(Pauline and Patristic Scholars in Debate 1) Todd D. Still - Tertullian and Paul-T&T Clark (2013)

TERTULLIAN AND PAUL
ii
PAULINE AND PATRISTIC SCHOLARS IN DEBATE
SERIES EDITORS
TODD D. STILL, George W. Truett Theological Seminary, Baylor University
and
David E. Wilhite, George W. Truett Theological Seminary, Baylor University
VOLUME ONE
TERTULLIAN AND PAUL
edited by
Todd D. Still
and
David E. Wilhite
N E W YOR K • LON DON • N E W DE L H I • SY DN EY

Bloomsbury T&T Clark
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First published 2013
© Todd D. Still and David E. Wilhite and contributors, 2013
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.
eISBN: 978-0-567-55411-6
Typeset by Forthcoming Publications Ltd (www forthpub.com)

In Memory of Christy Ann Witherington
August 14, 1979 — January 11, 2012

vi
CONTENTS
Preface xi
Abbreviations xii
Contributors xiii
INTRODUCTION: READING TERTULLIAN READING PAUL

David E. Wilhite xvii
1. GOD IN CHRIST:
TERTULLIAN, PAUL, AND CHRISTOLOGY
Andrew B. McGowan 1
PAUL, TERTULLIAN, AND THE GOD OF THE CHRISTIANS:
A RESPONSE TO ANDREW B. MCGOWAN
Michael F. Bird 16
2. TERTULLIAN, SCRIPTURE, RULE OF FAITH, AND PAUL

Everett Ferguson 22
CHRIST THE FOOLISH JUDGE IN
TERTULLIAN’S ON THE PRESCRIPTION OF HERETICS
Clare K. Rothschild 34
3. THE SPIRIT OF PROPHECY:

TERTULLIAN’S PAULINE PNEUMATOLOGY
David E. Wilhite 45
TERTULLIAN AND PAUL ON THE SPIRIT OF PROPHECY
James D. G. Dunn 72
4. TERTULLIAN, PAUL, AND THE NATION OF ISRAEL

Geoffrey D. Dunn 79
TERTULLIAN, PAUL, AND THE NATION OF ISRAEL:
A RESPONSE TO GEOFFREY D. DUNN
John M. G. Barclay 98
viii Contents
5. THE JUSTIFICATION OF THE MARTYRS

Candida Moss 104
MARTYRDOM AS SACRAMENT:
TERTULLIAN’S (MIS)USE OF “THE APOSTLE” (PAUL)
Todd D. Still 119
6. STATUS FEMINAE: TERTULLIAN AND THE USES OF PAUL

Elizabeth A. Clark 127
A RESPONSE TO ELIZABETH A. CLARK’S ESSAY,

“STATUS FEMINAE: TERTULLIAN AND THE USES OF PAUL”
Margaret Y. MacDonald 156
7. TERTULLIAN ON THE ROLE OF THE BISHOP

Allen Brent 165
FROM TERTULLIAN TO PAUL:
REFLECTIONS ON ALLEN BRENT’S ESSAY
ON TERTULLIAN AND BISHOPS
N. T. Wright 186
8. TERTULLIAN AND PAUL: THE WEALTH OF CHRISTIANS

Helen Rhee 195
HELEN RHEE, TERTULLIAN, AND PAUL ON THE WEALTH
OF CHRISTIANS: A RESPONSE
Warren Carter 216
9. COMMUNIS MAGISTER PAULUS: ALTERCATION OVER

THE GOSPEL IN TERTULLIAN’S AGAINST MARCION
Stephen Cooper 224
DID TERTULLIAN SUCCEED?
REFLECTIONS ON TERTULLIAN’S APPROPRIATION
OF PAUL IN HIS RESPONSE TO MARCION
Bruce W. Longenecker 247
10. THE WORLD TO COME:

TERTULLIAN’S CHRISTIAN ESCHATOLOGY
William Tabbernee 259
HIS EMINENCE IMMINENT:
TERTULLIAN’S TAKE ON PAULINE ESCHATOLOGY
Ben Witherington, III 278
Contents ix
AFTERWORD: TERTULLIAN AND PAULINE STUDIES

Todd D. Still 282
Bibliography 285
Index of References 300
Index of Modern Authors 318
x
PREFACE
We have accrued many debts in the production of this volume, and a

brief word of appreciation is in order. To begin, we would like to thank
our editor at T&T Clark, Dominic Mattos, for his enthusiastic support of
our book proposal. Indeed, it was he who suggested that this project
become a series and not simply a single volume.
We would also like to thank the administration, faculty, and staff at
the George W. Truett Theological Seminary of Baylor University. Our
dean, David Garland, and our associate dean, Dennis Tucker, offered us
the means necessary to make this project a reality. Our graduate assis-
tants, Claire Hein Blanton and Natalie Webb, also merit mention here.
Their tireless hours of formatting essays enabled us to complete this
ambitious work in a timely manner. Additionally, we would like to
express our profound gratitude to the Parchman family for their endow-
ment of research at our institution. Their generosity is a lasting legacy
to the Parchman name that will continue to shape minds and hearts for
generations to come.
Last of all, but by no means least, we would like to thank all the
contributors to this volume. We are humbled by and grateful for their
willingness to squeeze this project into their busy lives. In particular, we
would like to highlight the work undertaken by Ben Witherington, III.
His daughter, Christy Ann Witherington, died only a short time before his
essay on eschatology was due. Ben’s ongoing commitment to this work
and his words about ancient Christians’ hope in future glory is an appro-
priate punctuation to this volume. We dedicate this book to Christy’s
memory, recalling the words of Paul that appear in her father’s chapter:
…then the saying that is written will be fulfilled: “Death has been
swallowed up in victory.” “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O
death, is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the
law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord
Jesus Christ. Therefore, my beloved, be steadfast, immovable, always
excelling in the work of the Lord, because you know that in the Lord your
labor is not in vain. (1 Cor 15:54–58, NRSV)
The Editors
Easter 2012
ABBREVIATIONS
This volume employs the following abbreviations and spellings for the works of
Tertullian:
Ad mart. Ad martyras
Ad nat. Ad nationes
Ad Scap. Ad Scapulam
Ad ux. Ad uxorem
Apol. Apologeticum
Adv. Herm. Adversus Hermogenem
Adv. Iud. Adversus Iudaeos
Adv. Marc. Adversus Marcionem
Adv. Prax. Adversus Praxean
Adv. Val. Adversus Valentinianos
De an. De anima
De bapt. De baptismo
De res. carn. De resurrectione carnis
De carn. Chris. De carne Christi
De cor. De corona militis
De cul. fem. De cultu feminarum
De exh. cast. De exhortatione castitatis
De fug. De fuga in persecutione
De idol. De idolatria
De iei. De ieiunio adversus psychicos
De mon. De monogomia
De or. De oratione
De paen. De paenitentia
De pal. De pallio
De pat. De patientia
De prae. haer. De praescriptione haereticorum
De pud. De pudicitia
De spect. De spectaculis
De test. an. De testimonia animae
De virg. vel. De virginibus velandis
Scorp. Scorpiace
Otherwise, with the exception of LNTS (= Library of New Testament Studies),
PatrMS (= Patristic Monograph Series), and VCSup (= Vigiliae christianae Supple-
ments), abbreviations used herein follow those set forth in The SBL Handbook of
Style: For Ancient Near Eastern, Biblical, and Early Christian Studies (ed. Patrick
H. Alexander, et al.; Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1999).
CONTRIBUTORS
JOHN M. G. BARCLAY
Lightfoot Professor of Divinity
Durham University
Durham, England
MICHAEL F. BIRD
Lecturer in Bible and Theology
Crossway College
Brisbane, Queensland, Australia
ALLEN BRENT
Visiting Professor
King’s College London
London, England
Professore Invitato
Augustinianum (Lateran University)
Rome, Italy
WARREN CARTER
Professor of New Testament
Brite Divinity School
Texas Christian University
Fort Worth, Texas, USA
ELIZABETH A. CLARK
John Carlisle Kilgo Professor of Religion
and Professor of History
Duke University
Durham, North Carolina, USA
xiv Contributors
STEPHEN A. COOPER
Professor of Religious Studies
Franklin & Marshall College
Lancaster, Pennsylvania, USA
GEOFFREY D. DUNN
Senior Research Fellow
Australian Catholic University
Brisbane, Queensland, Australia
JAMES D. G. DUNN
Lightfoot Professor of Divinity, Emeritus
Durham University
Durham, England
EVERETT FERGUSON
Professor of Church History, Emeritus
Abilene Christian University
Abilene, Texas, USA
BRUCE W. LONGENECKER
Professor of Religion and W. W. Melton Chair
Baylor University
Waco, Texas, USA
MARGARET Y. MACDONALD
Professor, Religious Studies
St. Francis Xavier University
Antigonish, Nova Scotia, Canada
ANDREW MCGOWAN
Warden, Associate Professor, and
Joan F. W. Munro Lecturer in Theology
Trinity College, University of Melbourne
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
CANDIDA MOSS
Professor of New Testament and Early Christianity
University of Notre Dame
South Bend, Indiana, USA
xv Contributors
HELEN RHEE
Assistant Professor of History of Christianity
Westmont College
Santa Barbara, California, USA
CLARE K. ROTHSCHILD
Associate Professor of Theology
Lewis University
Romeoville, Illinois
TODD D. STILL
William M. Hinson Professor of
Christian Scriptures (New Testament)
George W. Truett Theological Seminary
Baylor University
Waco, Texas, USA
WILLIAM TABBERNEE
Executive Director
Conference of Churches, Oklahoma
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, USA
DAVID E. WILHITE
Assistant Professor of Theology
George W. Truett Theological Seminary
Baylor University
Waco, Texas, USA
BEN WITHERINGTON, III

Jean R. Amos Professor of New Testament
for Doctoral Studies
Asbury Theological Seminary
Wilmore, Kentucky, USA
N. T. WRIGHT
Professor and Chair in New Testament and
Early Christianity
University of St. Andrews
St. Andrews, Scotland
xvi
INTRODUCTION:
READING TERTULLIAN READING PAUL
David E. Wilhite
For some time now the disciplinary boundary between New Testament
studies and early Church history has been eroding—thus the ¿eld of
early Christian studies. Even within a clearly partitioned framework
between these two guilds, the growing interest in “reception history” on
the one side and “patristic exegesis” on the other has resulted in the need
for more interdisciplinary projects wherein Neutestamentlers and
scholars of post-canonical Christian history can bene¿t from each other’s
expertise.1 This project is an attempt to inhabit such a space.
In what follows, we have invited scholars with expertise in Tertullian
of Carthage (who will be introduced below) and scholars of the Apostle
Paul (who needs no introduction) to engage in dialogue. This volume
represents the ¿rst of a series on the reception of Paul among the early
Christian writers.2 We realize that we are beginning out of chronological
order; so, perhaps a brief explanation regarding this work’s origin is in
order.
1. Helpful introductions include Manlio Simonetti, Biblical Interpretation in the

Early Church: An Historical Introduction to Patristic Exegesis (Edinburgh: T. &. T.
Clark, 1994); Steven Harmon, “A Note on the Critical Use of Instrumenta for the
Retrieval of Patristic Biblical Exegesis,” JECS 11 (2003): 95–107; Charles Kannen-
giesser, Handbook of Patristic Exegesis: The Bible in Ancient Christianity (Leiden:
Brill, 2004); and J. van Oort, “Biblical Interpretation in the Patristic Era, a ‘Hand-
book of Patristic Exegesis’ and Some Other Recent Books and Related Projects,”
VC 60 (2006): 80–103.
2. The following volumes will include Paul’s reception in the Apostolic Fathers,
Irenaeus, the Apologists, and Origen. We would also recommend Michael F. Bird
and Joseph R. Dodson, eds., Paul and the Second Century (LNTS 412; London:
T&T Clark International, 2011); and David L. Eastman, Paul the Martyr: The Cult
of the Apostle Paul in the Latin West (Atlanta: SBL, 2011).
xviii Tertullian and Paul
After having submitted my essay to Bruce Longenecker and Kelly

Liebengood for their project on early Christian economics, I wrote to
them and confessed my own surprise as to how closely Tertullian read
Paul (on the particular issue I had addressed).3 They responded by saying
that two other essayists in that collection had noted the same, adding how
Tertullian “turns out to be one heck of an exegete!” I mentioned this to
my colleague and friend Todd Still, explaining how there should be an
extended study of Tertullian’s reading of Paul. Subsequently, Todd
approached Dominic Mattos at T&T Clark International, who found the
proposal so intriguing and timely that he requested it be turned into a
series. By that time, our plans for this volume had already begun. That is
why the series starts with this volume.
As it happens, Tertullian provides us a bene¿cial place to begin, if for
no other reason than the fact that he relies so heavily on Paul. To be sure,
he may have been “one heck of an exegete,” but he did not always
exegete Paul faithfully. Nevertheless, even when he (mis)uses Paul (by
the standards of critical study), Tertullian knows Paul’s works well.
Indeed, this study offers a rich and thick display of how Tertullian
received Paul, notwithstanding the uses and abuses of such a transaction.
Before turning to the particular essays in this project, I will offer a brief
introduction to Tertullian.
Meeting Tertullian
Tertullian of Carthage wrote at the end of the second and beginning of
the third century AD.4 As the ¿rst signi¿cant Latin writer, his impact on
the terminology and shape of all subsequent western theology would
prove to be immense.5 He wrote apologetic treatises articulating the faith
to outsiders, pastoral works translating and directing the faith of insiders,
3. Bruce Longenecker and Kelly Liebengood, eds., Engaging Economics: New

Testament Scenarios and Early Christian Interpretation (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
2009).
4. See brief introductions to Tertullian in David Wright, “Tertullian,” in The
Early Christian World (ed. Philip F. Esler; New York: Routledge, 2000), 2:1027–47;
and Everett Ferguson, “Tertullian,” in Early Christian Thinkers: The Lives and
Legacies of Twelve Key Figures (ed. Paul Foster; Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity
Press, 2011). For fuller discussions, see Geoffrey D. Dunn, Tertullian (London:
Routledge 2004), and David E. Wilhite, Tertullian the African (Berlin: de Gruyter,
2007).
5. See Hans von Campenhausen, The Fathers of the Latin Church (trans.
Manfred Hoffmann; London: A. & C. Black, 1964).
WHILHITE Introduction xix
and polemical tracts meant to draw the boundary for inter- and intra-
ecclesial disputes.6
Whereas scholars once con¿dently described Tertullian as a Roman
lawyer, a priest, a ¿deist, and a late convert to Montanism, scholarship
stemming from the last forty or so years has signi¿cantly revised each of
these assessments.7 As it happens, Tertullian likely never went to Rome,
and his arguments are indebted more to the practice of any self-respect-
ing rhetorician from the Second Sophistic Movement than to technical,
legal training.8 In fact, his indebtedness to classical education belies his
oft-misunderstood question, “What has Athens to do with Jerusalem?”9
That being said, Tertullian had no tolerance for “heretics” who required
Christian instruction to conform to a philosophical framework.10 As to
his clerical status, he admits he was not ordained; so, he was not a
presbyter per se. He did likely belong, however, to the unique North
African Christian group of seniores laici (“lay elders”).11 His attachment
to Montanism or the “New Prophecy” is disputed because at the most he
belonged to an ecclesiola in ecclesia rather than to any schismatic
movement within the Christian community at Carthage.12 Tertullian’s
reception was itself inÀuential for some time, even after Jerome and
Augustine deemed him too controversial.13 Cyprian, Jerome reports,
asked everyday to read “the master.”
6. See Jean-Claude Fredouille, Tertullien et la conversion de la culture antique

(Paris: Études augustiniennes, 1972).
7. The major ¿gure to revise our understanding was Timothy D. Barnes. See his
Tertullian: A Historical and Literary Study (Oxford: Clarendon, 1971; rev. ed.;
Oxford: Clarendon, 1985).
8. David I. Rankin, “Was Tertullian a Jurist?,” StPatr 31 (1997): 335–42.
9. Robert D. Sider, Ancient Rhetoric and the Art of Tertullian (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1971), and Sider, “Credo quia absurdum,” CW 73 (1980): 417–19.
10. Eric F. Osborn, Tertullian, First Theologian of the West (Cambridge: Cam-
bridge University Press, 1997).
11. De exh. cast. 7.3; De mon. 12.1–4. See also Gerald Bray, Holiness and the
Will of God: Perspectives on the Theology of Tertullian (London: Marshall, Morgan,
& Scott, 1979), 40–41.
12. See especially Douglas Powell, “Tertullianists and Cataphrygians,” VC 29
(1975): 33–54; David I. Rankin, Tertullian and the Church (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1995); and L. J. van der Lof, “The Plebs of the Psychici: Are the
Psychici of De Monogomia Fellow-Catholics of Tertullian?” in Eulogia: Mélanges
offerts à Antoon A.R. Bastiaensen à l’occasion de son soixante-cinquième anniver-
saire (ed. G. J. M. Bartelink, A. Hilhorst and C. H. Kneepkens; Steenbrugis: In
Abbatia S. Petri, 1991), 353–63.
13. See the table in CCSL 1.
xx Tertullian and Paul
Tertullian’s theological contribution emerges in his disputes with other

Christian groups, and he is known through thirty-one of his surviving
works.14 He offers the ¿rst Christian treatise (De baptismo) devoted
wholly to the subject of baptism (against the unnamed Cainite woman).
For “orthodox” usage, he coined the phrase trinitas so as to refer to God
as una substantia tres personae (“one substance, three persons”).15 His
many memorable one-liners range from the praise of martyrdom (“the
blood of the martyrs is seed”) to his infamous rebuke of women for being
women (“each one of you is an Eve…you are the devil’s gateway!”)16
His opponents range from Marcion, who rejected the Old Testament and
its God, to the virgins in his church who refused to wear their veils in
worship.17 Throughout all his literary twists and turns, the single trail of
breadcrumbs in his works is his use of Scripture and especially his use of
Paul.18
For Tertullian the Scriptures consist of both the Old and New Testa-
ment.19 He admits that the Scriptures themselves will convince no
unbelievers and that they are dangerous in the hands of “heretics” who
do not have the correct “Rule” by which to read them.20 However, for
14. Complete editions of his works are available in CSEL 20, 47, 69, 70, and
CCSL 1–2. Translations can be found in ANF 3–4, as well as in many more recent
studies and translations.
15. In his work Adversus Praxean.
16. Apol. 50; De cul. fem. 1.1. For Tertullian’s view of martyrdom, see Candida
Moss’s essay below. For discussion of his notorious views on women, see F.
Forrester Church, “Sex and Salvation in Tertullian,” HTR 68 (1975): 83–101; Karen
Jo Torjesen, “Tertullian’s ‘Political Ecclesiology’ and Women’s Leadership,” StPatr
21 (1989): 277–82; and Daniel L. Hoffman, The Status of Women and Gnosticism in
Irenaeus and Tertullian (Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen Press, 1995), as well as
Elizabeth Clark’s essay below.
17. Adversus Marcionem and De virginibus velandis.
18. The only writings of his with no direct quotation of Scripture are Apologeti-
cum and De pallio. For Tertullian’s hermeneutical practice, see R. P. C. Hanson,
“Notes on Tertullian’s Interpretation of Scripture,” JTS 12 (1961): 273–79; J. H.
Waszink, “Tertullian’s Principles and Methods of Exegesis,” in Early Christian
Literature and the Classical Intellectual Tradition: In Honorem Robert M. Grant
(ed. William R. Schoedel and Robert L. Wilken; Paris: Editions Beauchesne, 1979),
17–31; and Geoffrey D. Dunn, “Tertullian’s Scriptural Exegesis in de Praescriptione
Haereticorum,” JECS 14 (2006): 141–55.
19. With the exception of 2–3 John, at one point or another Tertullian cites from
every biblical book. For discussion, see T. P. O’Malley, Tertullian and the Bible:
Language, Imagery, Exegesis (Nijmegen: Dekker & Van de Vegt, 1967).
20. De test. anim. 1.4; and the whole of De prae. haer. See further L. William
Countryman, “Tertullian and the Regula Fidei,” SecCent 2 (1982): 208–27.
WHILHITE Introduction xxi
those who do have the Spirit of God the “whole of God’s Scripture”
speaks with one voice because the Spirit is its author.21
Tertullian prefers the plain sense of Scripture as opposed to elaborate
allegorical readings.22 The historical events reported therein literally
happened, for “that which is written cannot possibly not have been so.”23
He also knows to look to the context of a passage, for many twist the
words of Scripture away from the Truth.24 That being said, Tertullian
certainly allegorizes, given that Scripture “is both spiritual and prophetic,
and in almost all its concepts has a ¿gurative signi¿cance.”25 He traces
such an interpretive approach to Paul himself, who certainly shaped the
Tertullian’s understanding and reading of Scripture.26 As to his view of
Paul, we may now turn to the essays themselves.27
Reading Tertullian with an Eye on Paul

The following essays are topical. For the sake of convenience, the
subjects treated follow a roughly systematic outline, beginning with God
and concluding with eschatology. When enlisting the contributors, the
editors asked them to analyze Tertullian’s use of Paul on their given
topic. Beyond this rather general request, however, the guidelines were
minimal. Each essayist was at liberty to write as deemed appropriate to
treat the subject at hand. Whereas some essays range across the whole of
Tertullian’s corpus, others focus on certain of his works. Additional
diversity among the essayists exists with respect to: their understanding
of how well or how poorly Tertullian read Paul; whether or not they
regard Pauline writings are best classi¿ed as authentic or pseudonymous;
and whether or not they think that Montanism caused Tertullian’s view
to shift over the course of his career.
In Tertullian’s thinking the various topics discussed here cannot be
separated into independent doctrines. Each tenet of the faith bleeds into
21. De or. 22; cf. De prae. haer. 36.5; De res. carn. 22.3; Adv. Marc. 3.14.3; De
pud. 19.3–4.
22. See De an. 2.5; Adv. Marc. 4.19.6; Adv. Prax. 26.1.
23. De carn. Christ. 3.9 (trans. Evans 12); cf. De an. 21.5; Adv. Prax. 11.1; 13.4;
18.2.
24. See Adv. Marc. 5.9.2; De fug. 6.2; De virg. vel. 4; Adv. Prax. 16.24; 20.1.
25. Adv. Marc. 2.19 (trans. Evans 139); cf. De res. carn. 19; Adv. Marc. 4.24.10.
26. See Adv. Marc. 3.5.4.
27. For a general introduction to Tertullian’s reading of Paul, see Robert D.
Sider, “Literary Arti¿ce and the Figure of Paul in the Writings of Tertullian,” in
Paul and the Legacies of Paul (ed. William S. Babcock; Dallas, Tex.: Southern
Methodist University Press, 1990), 99–120.
xxii Tertullian and Paul
the next. Therefore, the scholars who took up a speci¿c topic wrote
essays that often overlap with others. The interplay between Tertullian’s
various works, his reading of Paul, and his reading of Paul within the
wider canon all make for a dif¿cult task in dissecting or extracting any
one item from his writings. Far from being a drawback, such overlap
is arguably one of the bene¿ts of this project. In fact, those interested
in such interdisciplinary dialogue feel no discomfort whatever with
the interplay between the various topics within Tertullian’s writings.
Therefore, despite the dif¿culty of dividing Tertullian’s thinking into
independent categories, the following essays attempt to understand
Tertullian’s use of Paul by analyzing his dependence on the apostle in
terms of certain topics. It is hoped that these essays will serve as forays
for future studies employing a more synthetic approach.
In the ¿rst essay, Andrew McGowan treats the subject of “God in
Christ.” Therein, he investigates how Tertullian read Paul to identify
Jesus with the one God of Israel on the one hand and to distinguish the
eternal Word from God the Father on the other. Regarding the former,
McGowan turns primarily to Against Marcion 5; for the latter, he listens
most closely to Against Praxeas. In both instances McGowan ¿nds
Tertullian to be explicitly invoking Paul to counter heretical views of
Christ. Even when Tertullian reads Paul through the Rule of Faith, he is
simultaneously indebted to Paul.
Everett Ferguson takes the baton on this point to analyze Tertullian’s
view of God revealed. To do so, he explores the North African’s multiple
citations of the Rule of Faith and how his thought intersects with Paul
when doing so. Focusing on Tertullian’s Prescript Against the Heretics,
wherein Tertullian outÀanks his opponents’ interpretation of Scripture
by use of the Rule, Ferguson ¿nds Tertullian to credit Paul for such a
standard.
The third person confessed in Tertullian’s Rule of Faith, the Holy
Spirit, is the focus of my own essay. Tertullian’s understanding of the
Spirit is informed by the manifold meanings of the word (e.g., Spirit of
God, spirit of man, spirit of fear, etc.). While surveying the whole of
Tertullian’s oeuvre—wherein I see no signi¿cant “conversion” or shift
in his thinking—I ¿nd Tertullian to be heavily reliant on Paul for his
understanding of the Holy Spirit’s personhood and work in particular.
Geoffrey Dunn investigates Tertullian’s view of the Jews and Judaism
in light of Paul’s thoughts on the subjects. After reviewing the signi¿cant
passages from the Pauline corpus, Dunn surveys both their appearances
and their striking absences in Tertullian’s interaction with Judaism,
especially focusing on Against the Jews and Against Marcion 5.
WHILHITE Introduction xxiii
Candida Moss argues that Tertullian’s view of martyrdom stems

more from his view of Paul than from any conversion to Montanism.
Looking particularly to Tertullian’s works To the Martyrs, Remedy for
the Scorpion’s Sting, and On Fleeing Persecution, Moss ¿nds Tertul-
lian’s understanding of martyrdom to be less radical than modern
scholarship has claimed. Instead, Tertullian is seen to have a robust
theology of martyrdom—a theology indebted to the apostle.
Elizabeth A. Clark surveys Tertullian’s corpus for his statements on
women and women’s roles and compares his remarks to Paul’s own
statements on the subject. By outlining Tertullian’s own schema for
women’s statuses (e.g., wives, virgins, widows, etc.), Clark can carefully
identify how Tertullian reads Paul, where he breaks with Paul, and how
he frequently uses the inner tensions in Paul’s thinking for selective
purposes.
Allen Brent discusses Tertullian’s view of the episcopacy in light of
the of¿ce’s primitive shape in the Pauline and deutero-Pauline writings.
After tracing the different trajectories of this of¿ce in the ¿rst two
centuries, Brent ¿nds Tertullian to represent a record of the of¿ce in
transition from that of overseeing house churches/schools to that of the
monarchical bishop known to Cyprian. In his earlier works, Brent argues
that Tertullian missed a key Pauline teaching regarding the episcopal
of¿ce, one that he would retrieve in his later writings.
Helen Rhee examines Tertullian’s arguments about wealth (and
poverty), focusing especially on his use of Scripture in his argument.
Tertullian con¿dently appropriates scriptural statements to suit the need
of his church, for the Spirit authored them and continues to provide inter-
pretation of them. Paul’s writings play a signi¿cant part in Tertullian’s
argument, and Rhee focuses on this phenomenon in his On Patience, On
the Dress of Women, and On Idolatry.
Stephen Cooper looks to Tertullian’s understanding of Paul’s gospel
by way of a rhetorical analysis of his Against Marcion. Marcion had read
Paul to hold Law and Gospel as opposites; Tertullian, for the sake of
argument, agrees to these terms. Although Paul would have objected to a
thinning down of his understanding of the gospel in Galatians, Tertullian
nevertheless used Marcion’s presuppositions about Paul to undermine
the heretic’s reading of the apostle.
Finally, William Tabbernee outlines the developing eschatology of
Tertullian throughout his writing career. The Carthaginian’s thought
comes to be shaped by the New Prophecy, according to Tabbernee, but
certain nonnegotiable aspects of his view of resurrection and Christ’s
return remain indebted to Paul.
xxiv Tertullian and Paul
The responses to these essays from New Testament scholars vary

widely in form and content. The respondents were asked to situate Tertul-
lian’s views, as delineated by the previous essayist, within the scholarly
discourse about Paul. Some found Tertullian to have read Paul closely
and responsibly, while others found Tertullian to misuse Paul’s teachings
for his own purposes. In some instances, Tertullian was seen to display
impressive insights, while in others the apologist is thought to have
missed the apostle’s ideas entirely. From time to time, Tertullian’s inter-
action with Paul anticipated topics now current in scholarly discussion.
More often than not, however, Tertullian appropriated Paul to address
concerns of his day. In the Afterword, Todd Still will explore this vol-
ume’s contents in relation to Pauline studies today.
1
GOD IN CHRIST:
TERTULLIAN, PAUL, AND CHRISTOLOGY
Andrew B. McGowan
Misunderstanding Paul
There was, it has been said, no real meeting of minds between Tertullian
and Paul. Because “Paul never came to Africa and…his letters were
never really understood there,” allegedly “Tertullian…did not really
understand what ‘the rightwising of the ungodly’ or ‘suffering with
Christ’ or ‘Christ is the end of the Law’ really meant.”1 Gilles Quispel’s
opinion complements Adolf von Harnack’s pithier observation that it
was actually Tertullian’s nemesis, Marcion, who “was the only Gentile
Christian who understood Paul, and he misunderstood him.”2
Both Quispel’s and Harnack’s observations point to the real differ-
ences between the theology of Paul’s undisputed writings and other early
Christian constructions of truth and salvation, including Tertullian’s. Yet
that Paul referenced by Quispel, characterized by certain key themes of
the Letters to the Romans and Galatians in particular, is uniquely acces-
sible to modernity and in part its creation. Harnack’s aphorism about
Marcion and Paul contains an unintended hint; perhaps, if no one “under-
stood” Paul in the modern sense, it was because such a Paul did not exist.
Quispel’s Paul was largely unknown, or at least unrecognized, before
the Reformation. Since then an apostle “of the heart set free,” as one
evangelical study put it,3 emerged into view, emphasizing sin and guilt,
1. Gilles Quispel, “African Christianity before Minucius Felix and Tertullian,” in

Gnostica, Judaica, Catholica: Collected Essays of Gilles Quispel (ed. Johannes
Oort; Leiden: Brill, 2008), 433–34.
2. So Adolf von Harnack, History of Dogma (7 vols.; 3d ed.; London: Williams
& Norgate, 1905), 1:89. Bruce M. Metzger (The Canon of the New Testament: Its
Origin, Development, and Signi¿cance [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997], 93
n. 32) indicates Franz Overbeck had made this observation at an earlier time.
3. F. F. Bruce, Paul, Apostle of the Heart Set Free (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
1977).
2 Tertullian and Paul
personal salvation, and the power of the cross. Of course this Paul has
not been static; the modern critical possibility of discerning an authentic
Paul within a corpus of mixed origins has modi¿ed the classical Protes-
tant view, but has actually increased the emphasis on Paul’s personal
theology in a way arguably not possible before Romanticism. This helps
explain the appeal of Marcion’s intriguing but idiosyncratic view for
Harnack and some subsequent critics. As the one known example of an
ancient quester for a Paul within the broader tradition, Marcion’s project
is structurally comparable to modern ones, however different their
speci¿c conclusions. Marcion was, however, the exception—not only in
his conclusions, but in his assumptions, too.
The recent emergence of a “new perspective” on Paul indicates that
what scholars of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries assumed or
argued concerning Paul no longer seems so well-established to many.4
Yet despite changes of focus, such as the inÀuential critiques of empha-
sis on, for example, Paul’s own real or alleged introspection, the new
perspective as well as the old focuses on a Paul neither accessible to
ancient readers of the apostle nor indeed of much interest to them.
Modern approaches, newer and older, are concerned with access to a
character or a subjectivity equated with the core message of those
Pauline writings regarded as most profound and important.
Paul and Tertullian

Tertullian’s view of Paul focuses elsewhere than on Quispel’s criteria,
but is not merely the result of some de¿ciency peculiar to the African
context or to his own disposition. Rather, broadly speaking, it is a more
typical ancient Christian view, wherein Paul is not discerned by exca-
vating for some speci¿c idea or genius within a literary corpus but seen
as the persona implied by that corpus as a whole. That Paul is also
determined by the wider reputation of the apostolic hero and martyr,
including the Paul of the Acts of the Apostles.5 Thus while Tertullian has
a sense of Paul as a character,6 he does not view the apostle primarily as
4. See especially Krister Stendahl, “The Apostle Paul and the Introspective
Conscience of the West,” HTR 56 (1963): 199–215.
5. A recent assessment concludes that something similar could even be said of
the Paul known to the author of Acts. See Richard I. Pervo, Acts: A Commentary
(Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009), 1–20.
6. Robert D. Sider, “Literary Arti¿ce and the Figure of Paul in the Writings of
Tertullian,” in Paul and the Legacies of Paul (ed. William S. Babcock; Dallas, Tex.:
Southern Methodist University Press, 1990), 99–120.
MCGOWAN God in Christ 3
a person whose intention and spirit must be sought or one whose writings
are waiting for exegesis of undisclosed meaning. Rather, Paul is an
existing positive reality, a given, underpinning and exemplifying ortho-
doxy as well as a source from which to draw in its defense.7
Tertullian’s inÀuence from, interest in, or even knowledge of Paul,
must then be judged not in relation to the so-called historical Paul con-
structed by modern scholarship, but to the “historic” or canonical Paul
constructed by ancient faith. This early patristic Paul may still be judged
critically, relative to contemporary understandings of Pauline literature,
but must be assessed ¿rst and foremost in its own context and relative to
the wider inÀuence and reception of the reputation and writings of the
apostle in antiquity.
The “historic,” canonical Paul known to Tertullian is, I suggest, an
important source and inÀuence in his apologetic and constructive articu-
lation of Christian theology, including his understanding of the God of
Jesus Christ. This does not mean that Tertullian seems to have pondered
Paul’s writings longer and harder than other scriptural texts in a quest for
their meaning, but simply that a variety of important connections can be
made, both directly and indirectly, between the two early Christian
authors and their works. Tertullian does, of course, cite Paul as Scripture.
However, he looks to him and his works not as sources of undisclosed
truth, but as exemplars of a truth already manifest in the faith and prac-
tice of the authentic church. For Tertullian, as for many of his contem-
poraries, this truth was guaranteed not (only) by appeal to inspired Scrip-
ture, but by the Rule of Faith, which was both derived from Scripture and
the necessary touchstone for the proper interpretation of Scripture.
That Rule is one of two key emphases in Tertullian’s work that will be
addressed further below in relation to Paul, along with Tertullian’s use of
the Pauline idea of divine and redemptive “economies.” Both of these
involve inÀuence from Paul on Tertullian. But however strong or authen-
tic that inÀuence is perceived to be, they are at the very least key places
where the comparison and connection between Paul and Tertullian can
be assessed in relation to belief in the God of Jesus Christ.
This discussion will also give particular attention to two works of
Tertullian, or parts thereof. The ¿fth book of Tertullian’s work Against
Marcion is the North African apologist’s most sustained engagement with
the Pauline canon as such; the treatise Against Praxeas is well-known as
7. See more broadly J. H. Waszink, “Tertullian’s Principles and Methods of

Exegesis,” in Early Christian Literature and the Classical Intellectual Tradition: In
Honorem Robert M. Grant (ed. William R. Schoedel and Robert L. Wilken; Paris:
Editions Beauchesne, 1979), 17–31.
Tertullian’s most fully developed discussion of the nature of the triune

God and the primary locus of his signi¿cant contribution to Trinitarian
thought. Against Praxeas does quote Paul, and Against Marcion does
mention God, yet they are rather oblique to one another both in form and
content. I will suggest nevertheless that attention to both and how they
each work are important to constructing an adequate account of
Tertullian’s Christian God and to assessing Paul’s place in Tertullian’s
thought about that God.
The dates of these two documents and the positions represented in
them are close. It is worth noting that both show the inÀuence on Tertul-
lian of the New Prophecy, later known as Montanism. Although the tone
of Against Praxeas towards the other, “psychic” Christians is harsher,
and the treatise refers explicitly to some sort of rupture (1.7), the “modal-
ist” heresy taught by Praxeas had been inÀuential among the “psychic”
addressees of the treatise, and so the gap may be more contextual and
rhetorical than essential.8 Although Tertullian himself claimed explicitly
that the New Prophecy simply taught the acknowledged Rule of Faith
and hence was not doctrinally innovative, his own writings suggest a
more complex picture. The Paraclete, the third person of the Trinity,
heralded and enabled among adherents of the New Prophecy a disciple-
ship whose seriousness was as appealing to Tertullian as it was off-
putting to his contemporaries. While this was “discipline” rather than
“doctrine” according to his own rhetoric, both of these actually have to
do with Tertullian’s view of divine life, and for him the life of the Spirit-
¿lled community is the present and active mode of God’s presence in
history.9
The Creator’s Christ: Tertullian on Paul and Marcion

The ¿fth book of Tertullian’s Against Marcion is a survey of Marcion’s
interpretation of Paul, driven not so much by an expository agenda as by
an apologetic approach to the “canonical” shape of the Pauline corpus
more or less as Marcion had read or edited it, “with a hatchet rather than
a pen” (De prae. haer. 38.9). Tertullian walks through, letter by letter,
8. See further Andrew B. McGowan, “Tertullian and the ‘Heretical’ Origins of

the ‘Orthodox’ Trinity,” JECS 14 (2006): 437–57.
9. Discussed further in Andrew B. McGowan, “God in Early Latin Theology:
Tertullian and the Trinity,” in God in Early Christian Thought: Essays in Memory of
Lloyd G. Patterson (ed. Andrew B. McGowan, Brian Daley, and Timothy J. Gaden;
VCSup 94; Leiden: Brill, 2009), 61–81.
not considering Paul’s text in its own right so much as confronting

Marcion’s interpretations of it.
Tertullian’s concern to establish the case for this God, and Paul as his
apostle, is an even more fundamental framework for the discussion than
the quasi-canonical shape of Marcion’s apostolikon. Thus, while issues
of genre and scope may take the work some distance away from modern
expectations of what a survey of Pauline literature might involve, per-
haps the focus is not so “un-Pauline.” The overarching theme of the
discussion does have to do with the God of Jesus Christ and the correc-
tion of misunderstandings of the gospel; it is not very focused on Paul,
but is not unlike Paul’s own focus.
In and through the discussion and refutation, however, there is an
underlying thematic focus or logic, equal and opposite perhaps to the
single-mindedness of Marcion’s passionate (mis)understanding. This has
¿rst and foremost to do with the unity of history as revealed across the
writings of the Old and New Testaments, and hence with the unity of the
God who is revealed in both. While Against Praxeas would be concerned
with defending the possibility of personal differentiation within God’s
being, Against Marcion addresses a problem that is almost the opposite.
Since Marcion was inclined to draw radical distinctions, the bulk of
Tertullian’s argument has to do with defending continuities, creating or
discerning identity rather than distinction. It is also a reÀection of
Tertullian’s view of the relationship of Paul himself to those writings and
that God.
Tertullian begins with Galatians. His project here does have a sort of
af¿nity with Paul’s in that letter, in that Tertullian needs to establish a
reading of Paul that includes Abrahamic tradition in a continuum with
the Christian gospel, where Paul had had to read Abrahamic tradition
itself similarly. Thus, Tertullian agrees with Marcion’s claim that the
Law of the Old Testament is abolished, but not for the same reasons. It is
the Creator who himself abolishes the Law, and who had foretold this
through his own prophets: “The same deity was being preached in the
gospel who had always been known in the law, whereas discipline was
not the same” (Adv. Marc. 5.2.3). This is a more Trinitarian statement
than it may appear, since for Tertullian the (visible) revealer of Law and
Prophets is actually the Son, not the (invisible) Father (cf. Adv. Prax.
14), and disciplina—an allusion to the strict requirements of the New
Prophecy—is the work of the Spirit, the Paraclete. This implicit but lim-
ited Trinitarian differentiation of persons is juxtaposed with Marcion’s
explicit version, which is not only a distinction of persons but of sub-
stance; for Marcion, the God who sent Jesus Christ is not the same as the
God of the Old Testament. This, then, is one key theme of Adv. Marc. 5:
the establishment of a historical continuity between the God of Abraham
and of the covenants of the Old Testament.
The second theme is closely related, namely, the claim of a cosmo-
logical continuity and identity between the God who created the world
and the God of Jesus Christ. This, too, appears promptly as Tertullian
gets his discussion of Marcion’s treatment of Galatians underway:
Now if even to this degree the Acts of the Apostles are in agreement with
Paul, it becomes evident why you reject them: for they preach no other
god than the Creator, nor the Christ of any god but the Creator, since
neither is the promise of the Holy Spirit proved to have been ful¿lled on
any other testimony than the documentary evidence of the Acts. (Adv.
Marc. 5.2.7)10
Tertullian again links the persons of the Trinity, this time more explic-
itly, with the unity and identity of God. While this passage is characteris-
tic of Tertullian’s insistence on divine coherence and identity across
creation and salvation, it is also hermeneutically noteworthy. Tertullian
makes a strong and particular claim about how to read Paul, that is,
maximally and in relation to Acts. In linking them (on respect for the
Law; see Acts 15), he not only argues with Marcion about the canonicity
of Acts as such, but exempli¿es his own synthetic approach to reading
the apostle, which is not only strongly intertextual but, as we shall see
further, takes points of reference even from outside scripture in the form
of the Rule of Faith. The two themes of historical and cosmological unity
or identity in God, once established in Tertullian’s opening, are then
pursued along with others (particularly the material reality of the Àesh of
Christ and of the resurrection) through a survey of the rest of the Pauline
canon.
The longest discussion of a book is of 1 Corinthians (5:5–10). Much of
this pursues these same themes in refutation of speci¿c points Marcion
has made, with emphasis on the hidden and mysterious character of the
Creator’s purposes as a mechanism to reconcile the discontinuities of
which Marcion makes so much. Tertullian here takes another maximalist
step in his interpretation or construction of the apostle, seeing him fore-
shadowed even in the Old Testament:
For when he declares himself a wise master-builder, by this term we ¿nd
indicated, by the Creator in Isaiah, the one who marks out the limits set
by God’s law of conduct: for he says, “I will take away from Judaea,”
10. Unless otherwise noted, translations are from Ernest Evans, Adversus Mar-
cionem (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972).
among other matters, “even the wise master-builder.” And was not that
a presage of Paul himself (ipse tunc Paulus destinabatur), who was
destined to be taken away from Judaea, which means Judaism, for the
building up of Christendom? (5.6.10; cf. Isa 3:3)
By the time he comes to the Letter to the Romans, which might have
seemed likely to be a crux for assessing Tertullian on Paul, the apologist
has in fact almost run his race. He has relatively little to add (and says as
much, more than once!) because the issues themselves have all been
canvassed wherever they ¿rst arose in his survey. Again, the coherence
of the Testaments and the unity of the God to whom they witness have
prominence, along with another broadside against Docetism.
In his discussion of Ephesians (or “Laodiceans” for Marcion) Tertul-
lian addresses the complex passage concerning the divine “economy”
(Eph 1:7–10). In this instance Tertullian expounds the term in what is
perhaps the more plain or straightforward sense, of a plan or arrangement
made by God for creation and redemption (Adv. Marc. 5.17.1). Since it
involves recapitulation from the beginning, Tertullian argues that this
economy forces the conclusion that redemption is the Creator’s work
rather than that of any other god and illustrates again the key point that
God is one, and God’s history likewise coheres across and even within its
apparent discontinuities. We shall see, however, that Tertullian can also
make a quite different use of the Pauline idea of a divine ÇĊÁÇÅÇÄţ¸ which
also serves his purpose in confessing the nature of the Christian God.
Against Praxeas
Against Praxeas was written to oppose the inÀuence of a teacher
otherwise unknown, perhaps a person whom Tertullian did not want to
name (possibly Callistus).11 According to “Praxeas,” the one God did not
exist as distinct persons, but had been revealed in different forms at
different times; hence, “the Father himself descended into the virgin, was
himself born of her, himself suffered, in the end himself was Jesus
Christ” (1.1).12 Although the treatise focuses mostly on the relationship
of Father and Son (or Word), Praxeas was an opponent of the New
Prophecy, who thus also offended pneumatologically; he both “drove out
the Paraclete and nailed up the Father” (1.5).
11. See Allen Brent, Hippolytus and the Roman Church in the Third Century:
Communities in Tension before the Emergence of a Monarch-Bishop (Leiden: Brill,
1995), 525–35.
12. Translations herein are adapted from Ernest Evans, Adversus Praxean liber:
Tertullian’s Treatise Against Praxeas (London: SPCK, 1948), 131.
The explicitly Trinitarian element in the treatise is not great, however,

if by that we expect explorations of the divine triad as such. Tertullian
seeks primarily to articulate the relationship between the ¿rst two per-
sons of the Trinity, defending the absolute transcendence of the Father
and the real substantia (here the actual existence, something like the
hypostasis) of the Son. The implications for the Holy Spirit can be
inferred, and mostly are left thus. So the controversy is Trinitarian, but
also speci¿cally Christological; accused of teaching that there are two
Gods (see Adv. Prax. 13.1, 5; 19.8), Tertullian advocates the unity of
divine being, but also the distinct personal reality of the Son, who is the
Word of the Father.
Tertullian’s account of distinct persons and a common essence or
substance involves what he here again calls the “economy,” in a sense
distinct from the historical and redemptive sense noted above. In a
discussion that uses Gen 1, John 1, and Prov 8, as well as various texts
from the Psalms, Tertullian af¿rms the eternal existence of God’s reason
or Logos (Adv. Prax. 5–7) and explains the means by which God has
arranged God’s own being as Trinity, which he terms the “economy”:
We however as always, the more so now as better equipped through the
Paraclete, that leader into all truth, believe…in one only God, yet subject
to this dispensation (which we call ÇĊÁÇÅÇÄţ¸) that the one only God has
also a Son, his Word who has proceeded from himself, by whom all things
were made; and without whom nothing has been made. (Adv. Prax. 2.1)
Tertullian goes out of his way to point to this notion of “economy” as a

technical term, citing it as a Greek word. Although they differ from some
other early Christian uses, including his own understanding of its use in
Eph 1 as it appears in Against Marcion, his references to ÇĊÁÇÅÇÄţ¸ here
cannot be regarded as a merely pragmatic use of a “secular” notion, but
rather than as instances of an exegetical tradition related to Paul’s own
usage, however speci¿c or even idiosyncratic. Although there is no
explicit citation of the Pauline texts, the reference to the Greek loan-
word evokes the set of cosmic and divine mysteries that for Paul, as for
Tertullian, lie behind the idea. The background to this will be discussed
further below.
In any case, by ÇĊÁÇÅÇÄţ¸ or dispositio (or dispensatio) Tertullian
certainly refers here ¿rst and foremost to the history of God’s own being
and Trinitarian self-relatedness, which, while fundamentally important
for the character of revelation and God’s historical action in creation and
redemption, is nonetheless primarily about God’s own being even before
time. This divine economy is not then to be confused with the “economic
trinity” of later systematic theology. The economy in Against Praxeas
is ¿rst and foremost the way Tertullian describes the arrangement or

disposition of the single divine substance or essence in the Trinitarian
relationship, which is actually closer to the classical notion of the
“immanent” Trinity. The dispensatio of divine being, as he refers to it
here, must be understood in relation to the divine monarchia in order to
allow the reality of divine persons, but to avoid tritheism.
The speci¿cs of this economy are somewhat distinctive to Tertullian,
although his near-contemporary Hippolytus also makes use of the term
to refer to inner-Trinitarian relations. Unlike Hippolytus, Tertullian sees
the self-differentiation of the divine monarchy as completely preceding
all time so that the full personal existence of the Son is established not
merely in the incarnation but up to the emission of the ¿at lux of crea-
tion, where divine wisdom becomes literal, spoken Word:
[Sermo] was ¿rst established by him for thought under the name of
Sophia…then begotten for activity…thereafter causing him to be his
Father by proceeding from whom he became Son…and in him thence he
rejoices. (Adv. Prax. 7.1–2)
Tertullian is, of course, all the more distant from the types of radical
“economic” thought about God by “Praxeas” that gives rise to the treatise
or that which Marcellus of Ancyra would later advocate, whereby the
distinctions between divine persons are so bound up with the history of
salvation that they actually come and go with its phases. Yet Tertullian
also differs signi¿cantly from later “orthodox” views almost opposite to
Praxeas, wherein creation and redemption are themselves only arbitrarily
or ephemerally connected with the reality of divine being and their
respective Trinities are arguably quite different.
For Tertullian, God’s Trinitarian being is eternal, but related—at least
by analogy—to the historic mystery of salvation. While the differentia-
tion of divine being in the economy is before time and creation, the
persons of the Trinity have distinct places in the other, redemptive
economy. Not only does the eternal Son have the particular historic roles
of visible divine presence prior to the Incarnation, and as incarnate Son
and Word after it, the eternal Paraclete also has a present historic role in
the present as leader into truth. Eric Osborn thus suggests that Tertullian
anticipates Rahner’s dictum that the economic Trinity is the immanent
Trinity and vice versa.13
13. Eric F. Osborn, Tertullian, First Theologian of the West (Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press, 1997), 121.
Tertullian’s account of the divine history in Against Praxeas with its

complex account of what was happening “in the beginning” could be
seen as more Johannine than Pauline in character. Although comparison
or contest between these two inÀuences is not our concern here, the
strength of Johannine element is unmistakeable, with the account of the
generation and work of the eternal Word in Against Praxeas clearly and
repeatedly harking back to the ¿rst chapter of the Fourth Gospel. The
narrative is, however, also amenable to the cosmic Christ of Col 1, ¿rst-
born of all creation (cf. Adv. Prax. 7.1), and Tertullian himself relates it
to the Christ-hymn of Philippians (7.8).14 All in all, however, we have to
admit that the presence of Pauline proof-texts is an adjunct to the other
biblical elements of this exposition, at least in terms of citation.
Yet the underlying structure on which Tertullian arranges his scrip-
tural citations in Against Praxeas is not merely Johannine. Certainly the
Prologue of John’s Gospel coheres with his narrative of divine economy
and provides certain fundamental elements, such as the verbal and rational
character of the second person and the role of the Logos as instrument of
creation. Yet the Pauline notion of economy—Pauline at least in origin,
and for Tertullian still so in its authority—allows Tertullian to expound
inner-Trinitarian relations in a way both more complex and more dyna-
mic than, but still involving, the Johannine notion of the eternal creative
Word. The Johannine contribution is a structure of Trinitarian related-
ness, but the Pauline one includes the force of redemptive history, which
for Tertullian links divine disposition with creation and redemption. As
we have noted, Tertullian properly recognizes a related conception in Col
1 and reads what he believes about the incarnation in Phil 2 also.
The Economy of God

The idea, or at least the word, ÇĊÁÇÅÇÄţ¸ is an important point of Pauline
inÀuence in virtually all cases in which it appears in early Christian
literature from the mid-second century. It has no particular Septuagintal
background, and its speci¿cally Christian meaning commences with
Paul.15 In Pauline literature, usage of ÇĊÁÇÅÇÄţ¸ varies from more prosaic
and personal comments on Paul’s own “stewardship” (although of the
14. Although the sense of hic certe est qui in ef¿gie dei constitutus non rapinam
existimavit esse se aequalem deo seems to reverse the sense of the phrase in the
Greek text; Christ did not consider equality with God a sort of theft, but as his due.
15. Adhémar D’Alès, “Le mot OIKONOMIA dans la langue théologique de
Saint Irénée,” REG 32 (1919): 1–9.
“mysteries of God,” 1 Cor 4:1–2) to a few cases where its implications

are of cosmic signi¿cance, involving the whole plan of God’s dealings
with the world and even possibly the reality of God.16
We have already noted the passage in Eph 1 where a cosmic mystery
of salvation is described:
the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in
Christ, as a plan for the fullness of time (¼ĊË ÇĊÁÇÅÇÄţ¸Å ÌÇı ÈÂ¾ÉŪÄ¸ÌÇË
ÌľÅ Á¸ÀÉľÅ), to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on
earth. (vv. 9b–10, NRSV)
This passage could perhaps be seen as more closely connected to later

“economic” trinitarianism than to Tertullian’s own account of the “eco-
nomy” of God in Against Praxeas. The economy in question concerns
the “mystery” of salvation, but more importantly it is an economy of the
plerǀma of the times, which Christians of “gnostic” tendency were to
regard as a fundamentally important concept linking cosmology and
soteriology.17 Although Tertullian is ¿ercely opposed to such theologies,
he can also acknowledge them, as in his view that the Son or Word is an
emanation or prolation from the Father (Adv. Prax. 8).
The same term occurs later in Eph 3:8–12, where the apostle speaks of
his mission “to make everyone see what is the plan of the mystery hidden
for ages (÷ ÇĊÁÇÅÇÄţ¸ ÌÇı ÄÍÊÌ¾ÉţÇÍ ÌÇı ÒÈÇÁ¼ÁÉÍÄÄšÅÇÍ ÒÈġ ÌľÅ ¸ĊŪÅÑÅ)
in God who created all things” (v. 9, NRSV). Perhaps even more than for
Eph 1, this passage allows the possibility that the “economy” in question
is to do with God’s own being and not merely with an undisclosed plan.
Last among the obvious candidates for a technical and speculative use
of ÇĊÁÇÅÇÄţ¸ in the Pauline corpus is 1 Tim 1:3–4, where readers are
urged “not to occupy themselves with myths and endless genealogies
that promote speculations rather than the divine disposition (õ ÇĊÁÇÅÇÄţ¸Å
¿¼Çı) that is known by faith” (v. 4, NRSV adapted). Some English trans-
lations have rendered “economy” or disposition in educational more
than metaphysical terms, as something like “training.” This is possible,
but the context again invites a comparison of cosmologies and not just
pedagogies. The “economy of God,” being opposed to the myths and
genealogies offered by the opponents of the letter, is by implication a
true doctrine concerning the nature of reality.
16. For the purposes of considering Tertullian’s and other writers’ reception and
interpretation, “Pauline literature” is considered as a whole rather than divided into
presumed authentic, deutero-Pauline, etc.
17. R. A. Markus, “Trinitarian Theology and the Economy,” JTS 9 (1958): 92–
94; D’Alès, “OIKONOMIA,” 3–4.
These texts in particular became the basis for a tradition of early

Christian thinking, especially about the divine plan of salvation. Since
the magisterial study by G. L. Prestige last century, early Christian use of
the term and the idea has usually been seen as falling into two categories:
one group (including most of Tertulian’s near-contemporaries) regard-
ing the ÇĊÁÇÅÇÄţ¸ as the historical or redemptive arrangements God had
made for the world; the other, including “Praxeas” (and later Marcellus
of Ancyra) regarding the economy as a reality of divine self-disposition
that occurs historically and situationally, Son and Spirit appearing in the
history of salvation and disappearing again into an undifferentiated
divine substance.18
Authors, such as Irenaeus, had adopted what may seem to be a more
straightforwardly “Pauline” use in speaking of salvation history as the
ÇĊÁÇÅÇÄţ¸, and this was the more common tendency. Around the same
time, however, Tatian used the idea to refer to the eternal generation of
the Son in terms that have been called its “original, secular” sense,19
speaking of things in general that have been partitioned (not severed)
from their source as having a “distinctive function (ÇĊÁÇÅÇÄţ¸)” (De or.
5.2). Granted that this is a generic argument, the scope of use of ÇĊÁÇÅÇ-
Äţ¸ in Paul must raise the question of whether the language is not more
amenable to speculative theological subjects because of this scriptural
use. Although Tertullian does understand this divine self-disposition as
related to the ways God has acted and will act in the world, he differs
from the latter tradition of thinking in conceiving of the divine economy
prior to creation and redemption, but also from the former in seeing the
economy not merely as about the world and history, but about God’s
own being.20
The “economy of the mystery hidden for the ages/aeons in God the
creator of all” could for ancient readers suggest the reality of God’s
being, initially true while hidden, but then historically revealed. For
Tertullian this might be so, particularly because the plan of salvation and
even the Son himself have already been visible prior to the incarnation.
In any case, Tertullian’s conception of the divine economy involves the
unfolding before time of a divine self-disposition that exists always in
nuce but is ¿rst realized before time, and then in history revealed.
Although this economy is eternal, it proves to be profoundly important
for the other, historic, economy, which is recounted in the Rule of Faith.
18. G. L. Prestige, God in Patristic Thought (2d ed.; London: SPCK, 1959),
97–111.
19. Markus, “Trinitarian Theology,” 95.
20. Ibid.
Paul, Tertullian, and the Rule of Faith

We have already noted that Tertullian’s reading of Paul is maximalist;
that is, he regards Paul not as a source whose real meaning must be
established through single-minded attention even to the Pauline corpus,
but as organically related to a wider set of literature (the whole biblical
canon) and to the life of the church and its Rule of Faith in particular.
It is easy to overlook how Pauline that Rule is. Despite its ultimate
solidi¿cation in creedal form, the Rule is at this point very much a narra-
tive whose content is the story of salvation but also, certainly for
Tertullian, the story of God’s own economy.21
The economy of God’s being that is recounted in Against Praxeas
moves seamlessly from being a narrative of divine self-disposition into
the historical and revelatory account that is the Rule of Faith. Not only is
the Rule discussed in very close proximity to his longer account of the
divine economy (chs. 2–3), the economy is also referred to (in fact, if not
in name) in the statement of the Rule:
We however as always, the more so now as better equipped through the
Paraclete, that leader into all truth, believe (as these do) in one only God,
yet subject to this dispensation (which is our word for “ÇĊÁÇÅÇÄţ¸”), that
the one only God has also a Son, his Word who has proceeded (proces-
serit) from himself, by whom all things were made, and without whom
nothing has been made; that he was sent by the Father into the virgin and
was born of her both man and God, Son of man and Son of God, and was
named Jesus Christ; that he suffered, died, and was buried, according to
the Scriptures, and, having been raised up by the Father and taken back
into heaven, sits at the right hand of the Father and will come to judge the
living and the dead; and that thereafter he, according to his promise, sent
from the Father the Holy Spirit the Paraclete, the sancti¿er of the faith of
those who believe in the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. (2.1)
Here the Rule is introduced with the economy, the eternal generation
of the Word, before af¿rmation of the instrumentality of the Word in
creation.
This is worth comparing with the similar summary of the Rule in
earlier De praescriptione haereticorum:
There is but one God, not other than the Creator of the world, who
produced all things out of nothing through his Word sent out [emissum]
¿rst of all; that this Word, called his Son, was in the name of God seen
variously by the patriarchs, was always heard in the prophets, and last
21. See further L. William Countryman, “Tertullian and the Regula Fidei,”
SecCent 2 (1982): 208–27. Note also Paul M. Blowers, “The Regula Fidei and the
Narrative Character of Early Christian Faith,” ProEccl 6 (1997): 199–228.
was brought down by the Spirit and power of God the Father into the
Virgin Mary, became Àesh in her womb, and being born of her lived as
Jesus Christ. From there he proclaimed a new law and a new promise of
the Kingdom of Heaven, performed miracles, was cruci¿ed, rose on the
third day, was caught up into heaven, sat at the right hand of the Father,
sent the vicarious power of the Holy Spirit who leads believers, will come
with glory to take the saints into enjoyment of eternal life and of the
heavenly promises, and to condemn the wicked to perpetual ¿re, after the
resurrection of both [good and bad] has taken place together with the
restoration of Àesh. (De prae. haer. 13.2–5)22
The Rule here actually includes two distinct elements in the history of
the Son and Word that precede the incarnation. First, there is the
economy, the differentiated divine life before time; the emissio to which
Tertullian refers is not the historic sending of the Word and Son into the
world, but the Father’s eternal emanation or generation of the Word,
what in Against Praxeas he called a processio. Second comes a historical
but pre-incarnational phase reÀecting the claim Tertullian made also in
Against Praxeas that the theophanies of the Old Testament involved the
(visible) Son and not the (invisible) Father; these appearances were of
the personal but pre-incarnate Word. In addition, the Rule in both these
instances takes divine activity forward into the present, where the Spirit
is at work. In the later Against Praxeas the expression of the Paraclete’s
presence may lean closer to Montanizing tendencies, but the substance of
his claims has hardly varied. This, too, is a confession of the divine
economy as well as the historic one.
Although quests for scriptural quotations, or even allusions, are
unlikely to suggest the link by themselves, in force and form it is worth
comparing these narratives of the Rule to hymnic or creedal summaries,
composed or borrowed, of the central acts of salvation and on the origins
and work of Jesus Christ in the Pauline corpus (Gal 4:4–6; 1 Cor 15:3–4;
Phil 2:5–11; Col 1:12–23). The relationship between these and the
evolution of the Rule of Faith is beyond the scope of the present study,
but Tertullian’s use of Pauline texts in relation to the person of Christ
and the triune God suggests a particular interest in these narrative
summations of the Gospel.
Paul is thus for Tertullian both a source of the Rule of Faith and an
object of its hermeneutical employment. This Rule is the confession of
the faith Tertullian and his coreligionists had in the God of Jesus Christ,
which faith they had received—African trips by Paul notwithstanding—
from a tradition which included the apostle as a key ¿gure, not only as
historical construct but as source and authority.
22. Translation my own, from CCSL.

Conclusions
The two writings of Tertullian examined here are different in genre and
in focus, but have a complementarity in relation to Tertullian’s under-
standing of God as well as to his use of Paul. Put simply, in Against
Praxeas Tertullian contests a view of God without differentiation or dis-
tinction, af¿rming the reality of Christ as God distinct from the Father. In
Against Marcion, he deals with a view of God or gods where differ-
entiation must itself be countered, but similarly concluding that Christ is
God and one with the Creator.
While it is not necessarily replete with Pauline references, Tertullian’s
account of the Trinity involves an important use or interpretation of the
Pauline conception of ÇĊÁÇÅÇÄţ¸. Although arguably at some remove
from the meaning of references in the Pauline corpus, this represents an
important instance of Pauline reception, with relevance beyond Tertul-
lian and his work. As Eric Osborn put it, “Trinity has to do with the
internal disposition of the Godhead. Economy in Paul…and Tertullian
has to do with the plan of salvation; a consideration of this plan causes…
Tertullian to see economy in God.”23
This truth abides for Tertullian in a complex of ecclesial and historical
reality marked by the Rule of Faith. It is the Rule, more than particular
Pauline texts, to which Tertullian will resort for the fundamental author-
ity of his claims. But he regards Paul as authentic witness to this same
faith, and Paul’s contribution to that Rule is in fact not negligible in
either content or form. With one simple statement Tertullian sums up his
own Paul and the nature of the God of Jesus Christ whom he and Paul
both served: “I know whose apostle he is” (Adv. Marc. 5.18.7).24
23. Osborn, Tertullian, 121.

24. eius apostolum agnosco.
PAUL, TERTULLIAN, AND THE GOD OF THE CHRISTIANS:
A RESPONSE TO ANDREW B. MCGOWAN
Michael F. Bird
Reception history is one of the hip things happening in biblical studies at

the moment. We have nearly exhausted everything there is to say about
what Isaiah, Hosea, Paul, or John said themselves, or at least, what we
think they said. To that end, different methodologies and varied reading
contexts have proven useful for squeezing additional insights from the
biblical texts. Yet in want of something fresh, the most fertile ground to
grow something new in biblical studies is probably reception history.
Studying how a text was received, where and how it was interpreted, and
determining its impact and inÀuence over certain historical periods is
very much a vogue industry in contemporary biblical studies.
It is an exciting ¿eld because it is an area that has been neglected for
too long. A hypnotic ¿xation on the historical background of biblical
texts and a contemptuous ignorance of any interpreter before the modern
period has meant that, generally speaking, biblical scholars enter a whole
new playing ¿eld to explore and experiment once they start to investigate
how others over the course of history have read these same texts.
Patristic scholars who have been sitting on the monkey bars of church
history might ¿nd themselves highly amused to see a crowd of biblical
scholars trickling into their play gym and struggling to climb the
apparatuses that they themselves have spent a lifetime frolicking over.
Still, in the end, getting historians of the church and biblical scholars
together should lead to a fruitful dialogue about the signi¿cance of
biblical texts for religious communities at large.
The Apostle Paul, both the man and his writings, lends himself
naturally to such an enterprise of reception history.1 Paul has also been
1. My previous contribution to this area is Michael F. Bird and Joseph R.

Dodson, eds., Paul and the Second Century (LNTS 412; London: T&T Clark
International, 2011).
BIRD Paul, Tertullian, and the God of the Christians 17
one of the most inÀuential theologians of the early church. Paul was
venerated in the developing church as both a missionary and a martyr.2
Dissident groups like the Marcionites and the Valentinians saw them-
selves as Pauline in character.3 Theological reform and spiritual renewal
have followed whenever Christian leaders have had a fresh encounter
with Paul’s writings. From Augustine, to Martin Luther, to Karl Barth,
when the arresting voice of the apostle grips a person the results have
meant a drastic change in the course of Christian history. Pauline studies
is one of the few disciplines for which it can be legitimately claimed that
it has radically shaped the religious and political history of Western
civilization.4
Among the earliest interpreters of Paul, apart from perhaps Irenaeus,
there are few more notable than Tertullian. The ¿rst great Latin theolo-
gian of the West was an interpreter of Christian Scripture and drew much
theological energy from Paul.5 Here it is that my task starts. My charge
in this study is to present a response to Andrew McGowan’s account of
Tertullian and Paul, though I am immediately struck by the strangeness
of this task. Reading Andrew McGowan reading Tertullian reading Paul
sounds a bit like a movie I once saw that featured a woman pretending to
be a man pretending to be a woman (Victor/Victoria, 1982, directed by
Blake Edwards). In what follows, my response to McGowan will com-
mence with an exploration of several of his key tenets, followed with
further discussion about Pauline trinitarianism, Paul and the regula ¿dei,
and Tertullian’s theological exegesis.
McGowan’s opening assertion that understanding Paul tends to be a
fairly subjective affair is legitimate enough, as is his critique of efforts to
gain access to Paul’s “character” or to identify the “core message” of
Paul’s writings since this assumes a modernist predilection for historical
coherence and ideological essentialism. But herein, I think, lies the
2. Cf. David L. Eastman, Paul the Martyr: The Cult of the Apostle Paul in the
Latin West (Atlanta: SBL, 2011).
3. Cf., e.g., Irenaeus, Adv. haer. 4.41.4; Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 1.15, 20; 2.14;
4.2, 3.
4. For a basic introduction, see Wayne A. Meeks and John T. Fitzgerald, eds.,
The Writings of St. Paul: Annotated Texts, Reception and Criticism (2d ed.; New
York: Norton, 2007).
5. Cf. Eva Aleith, Paulusverständnis im ersten und zweiten Jahrehundert
(Berlin: Töpelmann, 1937); Robert D. Sider, “Literary Arti¿ce and the Figure of
Paul in the Writings of Tertullian,” in Paul and the Legacies of Paul (ed. William S.
Babcock; Dallas, Tex.: Southern Methodist University Press, 1990), 99–120;
Andrew M. Bain, “Tertullian: Paul as Teacher of the Gentile Churches,” in Bird and
Dodson, eds., Paul and the Second Century, 207–25.
superiority of pre-critical exegesis. Writers such as Tertullian were not

interested in excavating the “real Paul” beneath the dense and miry
layers of ecclesiastical dogma, nor even with formulating a coherent
account of Paul’s biography with sizzling hidden truths to be ¿nally
revealed. Tertullian’s real goal is to situate Paul in the canonical witness
and catholic context of the early church’s faith. I would not go as far as
McGowan to say that Tertullian’s interest in Paul was “historic” not
“historical,” since the constant allusions to Paul’s missionary journeys
and his ¿xation on the Paul–Cephas showdown in Antioch indicate that
Tertullian does see Paul’s historical career as somehow authoritative for
his own theological discourse. It might be better to say with Sider that
Tertullian’s Paul is a fusion of the “iconic” and “historical” aspects of
the image of Paul as Tertullian has received it.6 But McGowan is correct
that Tertullian envisages Paul as an apostolic authority who sponsors and
exempli¿es orthodoxy and constitutes a key example of the defender of
the apostolic faith. Paul is a key block in the church’s regula ¿dei.
I also concur with McGowan that Tertullian’s interaction with Paul is
most pronounced in book ¿ve of Against Marcion and throughout
Against Praxeas, though I do think a third text for consideration is On
the Resurrection of the Flesh, operating as it does largely on the back of
1 Cor 15. These are the places where Tertullian really does wrestle with
Paul at close quarters. Tertullian provides almost a miniature com-
mentary on the Pauline corpus in Against Marcion 5, where he takes
each Pauline letter to be an attack on the type of theology that Marcion
was advocating. Bain observes that nearly every step of Tertullian’s
argument in Against Praxeas utilizes Paul’s texts in an inner-canonical
conversation about the nature of God.7 McGowan successfully shows
how in Against Marcion Paul is principally concerned with mapping
continuities across the Old and New Testament, while Against Praxeas is
focused on the inner unity of the Godhead. But in both cases, there is a
concerted effort to demonstrate a binitarian unity between God and Jesus
Christ that is neither di-theistic nor modalistic.
I would like McGowan to have teased out further Tertullian’s under-
standing of Ephesians and the Pauline oikonomia due to my own loom-
ing interest in the subject. Similarly, discussion on Paul, Tertullian, and
Recapitulation could have warranted some comment too.8 That said,
6. Sider, “Figure of Paul in Tertullian,” 113.

7. Bain, “Tertullian,” 216.
8. Cf. Eric Osborn, Tertullian, First Theologian of the West (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1997), 21–24.
McGowan appears to have arrived at a defensible conclusion: “Tertul-

lian’s concept of the divine economy involves the unfolding before time
of a divine self-disposition that exists always in nuce but is ¿rst realized
before time, and then in history revealed. Although the economy is
eternal, it proves to be profoundly important for other, historic, economy,
which is recounted in the Rule of Faith.” That summary is valid in that
Tertullian appears to me to postulate a unity of God that explains the
unity of his actions across redemptive history. Tertullian does this by
working around the themes of divine unicity (in Against Marcion) and
divine plurality (in Against Praxeas). Now McGowan is perhaps correct
that Tertullian’s understanding of the divine economy here is not strictly
identi¿able with the economic Trinity of Karl Barth and Karl Rahner.
Even so, there does seem to be a genuine analogy, since the salvi¿c roles
of Father and Son do indicate something of the eternal relationships
within the Godhead. Tertullian looks as if he stands somewhere between
Paul and Rahner on equating the economic Trinity with the immanent
Trinity.
There are three main areas that I would like to reÀect on further con-
cerning Tertullian and Paul. First, Tertullian’s deployment of Paul in his
arguments against modalism and in favor of a developing trinitarianism
suggests to me something of the incipient Trinitarian nature of Paul’s
own thought.9 It goes without saying that Paul was not a Trinitarian theo-
logian in the Nicene sense and the language of personae and substantia
was simply not the horizon in which he conceived the relationships of
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Still, the fact that Tertullian and others
found Paul pushing them in a Trinitarian direction indicates that there
were “biblical pressures” to move into a Trinitarian framework precisely
as the way of understanding and holding together the scriptural asser-
tions about God and Jesus Christ.10 I think second to John the Evangelist,
Paul was in many ways responsible for fostering a distinctive view of
God that would later be seen to contain an intrinsic Trinitarian logic.
Second, for the early church their primary authority was not the bare
text, but a story, the Rule of Faith (regula ¿dei). It is this story which
Scripture testi¿es to and which Scripture must be interpreted in relation
to. In fact, Tertullian believes it is futile to argue with a heretic over
Scripture since the dissident simply does not have the hermeneutical
tools to comprehend Scripture properly (De praescr. haer. 19). Though
9. Cf. Francis B. Watson, “The Triune Divine Identity: ReÀections on Pauline

God-Language, in Disagreement with J. D. G. Dunn,” JSNT 80 (2000): 99–124.
10. Cf. C. Kavin Rowe, “Biblical Pressure and Trinitarian Hermeneutics,”
Pro Ecclesia 11 (2002): 295–312.
an oral-creedal tradition appears to trump Scripture, that is only because

Scripture itself is a record of the tradition.11 Story and Scripture com-
prise a mutually interpretative and mutually reinforcing framework in
which Christian talk of God takes place. Tertullian’s brief précis of the
regula ¿dei (Adv. Prax. 2.1; De praescr. haer. 13.2–5) is, as McGowan
observes, highly Pauline in character. Although these summaries of the
gospel go into areas that Paul himself did not comment on, like the
Father’s eternal emanation of the Word, there is an umbilical relationship
with the Pauline corpus. Paul does seem to intimate a pre-incarnation
time in the Son’s life even if he does not expound upon it in detail (e.g.,
Phil 2:5–11; 2 Cor 8:6; Col 1:15–20). So, McGowan is correct that for
Tertullian Paul is both a “source of the Rule of Faith and an object of its
hermeneutical employment.”
Third, if there is one category that best describes what Tertullian is
doing with Paul it is probably “theological exegesis.” The term “theo-
logical exegesis” or “theological interpretation” is another one of the
fashionable things in biblical hermeneutics at the moment. If reception
history is about biblical scholars ¿nally talking to Patricians, then theo-
logical exegesis is biblical scholars ¿nally talking to Systematicians.12
Tertullian does not engage in a historical-critical reading of Paul, much
less an ideological based reader-response one. Tertullian reads Paul
in light of the regula ¿dei and identi¿es Paul as its exempli¿er and
defender. A word of caution about theological exegesis, however, is in
order. While one can appreciate the symbiotic relationship between
Scripture and Doctrine that Tertullian makes, there remains some danger
all the same. (1) To begin with, there is the danger that Scripture’s robust
but limited assertions about divine ontology are freighted by Tertullian
with far more than they were intended to carry. That is not to say that
everything that Tertullian and other Church Fathers say about God on
the basis of Paul is false, but it makes us cognizant of the fact that much
of what is said about intra-trinitarian relationships is inferential and
emerges from reading Paul in a new linguistic and metaphysical frame-
work. Those new frameworks hold currency insofar as they lend them-
selves to providing coherence and unity to the entire biblical corpus.
(2) Theological readings also have a propensity to Àatten out the distinc-
tive witness of each of the biblical texts. Though the Pauline Epistles and
the Paul of Acts share a canonical unity in their presentation of Paul,
11. Geoffrey D. Dunn, Tertullian: The Early Church Fathers (London: Rout-
ledge, 2004), 20–21.
12. Cf. Daniel J. Treier, Introducing Theological Interpretation: Recovering a
Christian Practice (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2008).
nonetheless, the literary and historical tensions that emerge from their
juxtaposition do not vanish the moment one pronounces the words
“theological interpretation.” That is not to deny theological interpretation
its day in the sun. Despite all the talk of Christianities and diversities in
the early church, the New Testament itself constitutes a theological
unity, a common faith, but only as a unity-in-diversity.
In sum, McGowan presents a rewarding discussion of Paul and Tertul-
lian with several important observations about the signi¿cance of the
divine economy for Tertullian’s biblical hermeneutics and for his attempt
to construct a conception of the divine being as triune. In my estimation,
Tertullian also showcases the incipient Trinitarianism of Paul, demon-
strates the importance of the regula ¿dei for scriptural interpretation, and
shows the value and limitations of theological interpretation.
2
TERTULLIAN, SCRIPTURE, RULE OF FAITH, AND PAUL
Everett Ferguson
Introductory Observations
I begin with some general observations on what Tertullian says about
Scripture, Paul, and the Rule of Faith (regula ¿dei), and then introduce
his Prescription Against Heretics (De praescriptione haereticorum),
which focuses the relationship of these topics. Then I give a more
detailed analysis of what this treatise says about each.
Tertullian on Scripture
Tertullian held a high view of Scripture.1 His grasp of the entire Bible is
“astonishing.”2 For Tertullian, Scripture is the “voice of the Holy Spirit”3
and therefore “divine.”4 Since the Holy Spirit was its ultimate author,
Scripture carried authority.5 This authority was more assumed by Tertul-
lian than proven.6 This indicates that it was generally accepted. Although
Tertullian shows himself primarily as a rhetor, in his theological treatises
his proof is largely biblical exposition and follows in general the bibli-
cal sequence rather than rhetorical topics.7 Not all Scripture was on the
1. For the topic in general, see T. P. O’Malley, Tertullian and the Bible:
Language, Imagery, Exegesis (Nijmegen: Dekker & Van de Vegt, 1967); Eric
Osborn, Tertullian, First Theologian of the West (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1997), 151–62; Geoffrey D. Dunn, Tertullian (London: Routledge, 2004),
Chapter 3.
3. De idol. 4. For the Spirit speaking in Scripture, see Apol. 18.1–2; De or. 20
and esp. 22; De res. carn. 63.7–10 (the Holy Spirit is also the interpreter of Scrip-
ture); Adv. Herm. 22.1; De pat. 7.1.
4. On the divine origin of Scripture, cf. Adv. Prax. 11; De res. carn. 13.2; Adv.
Marc. 5.7.2; De an. 2 (Dei litteras); 28; De virg. vel. 1; Apol. 20; De test. an. 6.
5. Among many passages, see, e.g., Adv. Herm. 20; 31; Scorp. 2; Adv. Prax. 29.
6. O’Malley, Tertullian and the Bible, 123.
University Press, 1971), 64.
FERGUSON Tertullian, Scripture, Rule of Faith, and Paul 23
same level of authority for Christians, since the “new law of the gospel”
(the New Testament) had replaced the old covenant.8 The written records
of this new covenant formed what he called the “divine canon,”9 even
if this was not in his time a “closed canon.” It comprised certainly all of
the later recognized twenty-seven books except James, 2 Peter, and
2–3 John.10 Tertullian can speak of the “rule of Scriptures” (scripturarum
regulam, Adv. Marc. 3.17) or “the norm of Scriptures” (Adv. Iud. 9).11
Tertullian on Paul
The Apostle Paul occupies a prominent place in Tertullian’s writings. 12
He drew his image of the life of Paul from Acts as well as from Paul’s
Letters, and he chides Marcion for not accepting Acts and the Pastoral
Epistles.13 Even apart from Against Marcion, quotations from Paul’s
letters constitute nearly half of Tertullian’s quotations from the New
Testament. For Tertullian, Paul is “the apostle.”14 His authority derived
from being inspired by the Holy Spirit.15 He sensed no difference between
Paul and the other apostles on doctrine (see below on difference from
Peter in practice), but Paul was distinguished from the other apostles as
the “teacher of the nations.”16
8. Adv. Marc. 4.1; for the gospel as new law, 3.21; “new word, law, and
testament,” 4.9; cf. 3.14 for “two testaments of law and gospel.” The law of Moses
was replaced: Ad ux. 1.2; De mon. 14. This theme is prominent in Adv. Iud.: law of
Moses was “temporary,” 2–3; the “ancient law” would cease when the promise of
the “new testament” arrived, 6; “the two testaments of the ancient law and the new
law,” 9. For “new testament,” De or. 1; Adv. Marc. 4.6 (“old and new testaments”);
Adv. Prax. 15.
9. De pud. 10. Cf. “all our canon” to include the Old Testament (De mon. 7).
See further below on De praescriptione haereticorum.
10. John F. Jansen, “Tertullian and the New Testament,” SecCent 2 (1982):
191–207.
11. E. Flesseman-Van Leer, Tradition and Scripture in the Early Church (Assen:
Van Gorcum, 1954), 162. On Tertullian’s use of regula, see 161–70.
Southern Methodist University Press, 1990), 99–120, who argues that Tertullian
does not misrepresent the theology of Paul as much as some have claimed.
13. Adv. Marc. 5.1; 5.21.1; De prae. haer. 23.
14. Adv. Marc. 5.1 and passim, perhaps inÀuenced by Marcion’s usage. Among
other texts, see De prae. haer. 30.
15. Adv. Marc. 5.7.1–3; De pat. 7.7; 12.8; De virg. vel. 4.2–3; De iei. 15.1; Ad
ux. 2.2.4–5.
16. De res. carn. 23.8; De pud. 14.27.
Tertullian on the Rule of Faith

The Scriptures were “God’s inspired standard,” but Tertullian placed
“our rule and standard of faith” together as one (De an. 2). Tertullian
gives three full statements of the content of the Rule of Faith (De prae.
haer. 13; De virg. vel 1 [cf. 2]; and Adv. Prax. 2).17 All three present the
same essential content. De praescriptione moves from the one God, the
Creator, to his Word—seen by the patriarchs and heard by the prophets,
born of the virgin Mary, preacher of the kingdom of God, worker of
miracles, cruci¿ed, resurrected, ascended to heaven, sender of the Holy
Spirit to guide believers, and coming again in judgment. On the Veiling
of Virgins calls for believing in one only God, Creator, and his Son Jesus
Christ—born of the virgin Mary, cruci¿ed under Pontius Pilate, raised on
the third day, sitting at the right hand of the Father, coming to judge all
through the resurrection of the Àesh.18 Against Praxeas is more expressly
Trinitarian—one God the Father; who sent his Son to be born of the
virgin, to suffer, die, be buried, raised, sitting at the right hand of the
Father, coming to judge all, and the sender of the Holy Spirit the Para-
clete; who is the sancti¿er of the faith of those who believe in the Father,
Son, and Holy Spirit.19 The ¿rst and third statements are in treatises
against false teaching; the second expands the Paraclete’s work to a
matter of conduct. In spite of the basically common content and structure
of these statements, the wording is different in each case. Tertullian thus
demonstrates that there was no ¿xed wording of the Rule, and the same
goes for other statements of it.20 The Rule of Faith served as a summary
of the apostolic message, of the Christian gospel. Hence, its wording
varied as circumstances required.21 It was a forerunner of the Apostles’
Creed, which unlike the Rule soon established a relative ¿xity of
17. Some points from the rule are referred to Adv. Prax. 30. Note “Rule of truth”
in De pud. 8.
18. The passage af¿rms that the rule of faith is unchangeable, but the Paraclete
can unfold new developments in discipline.
19. For the full Latin text of each in parallel columns and English translations,
see L. William Countryman, “Tertullian and the Regula Fidei,” SecCent 2 (1982):
208–27, who argues that the regula was an oral composition used in the instruction
of new converts that arose in the context of a need to inoculate against heresies in
the second century.
20. Irenaeus, Epid. 6; Adv. haer. 1.10.1; Origen, De princ. Preface; Comm. Jo.
32.15; Comm. Mt. ser. 33.
21. “The regula is a summary, formulated according to the need of the moment,
of the entire Christian faith”; “regula is a condensation and formulation of the
apostolic tradition” (Flesseman-Van Leer, Tradition, 165, 170).
wording, because it was the statement of the faith confessed at baptism,

and this liturgical usage settled on a set form of expression.22
Tertullian on Forestalling False Teachers

Tertullian’s treatise, De praescriptione, focuses the topics of immediate
concern and will be the centerpiece for the remainder of the present
study. In this work Tertullian proposes a short and easy way of dealing
with heretics. Truth preceded falsehood, and all later opinions are heresy
(De prae. haer. 29–31).23 Hence, one must go to the churches of apos-
tolic foundation to ¿nd the true apostolic message (De prae. haer. 20–
21;24 cf. Adv. Marc. 1.21). Using legal terminology, he enters a prelimi-
nary injunction that limited the scope of the inquiry or questioned the
competence of the court or of the opponent in the case. Tertullian makes
a legal argument concerning property rights. The Scriptures belong to the
church; therefore, heretics have no right to them (De prae. haer. 15).
Arguments from Scripture produce either a headache or heart burn (De
prae. haer. 15: “upset the stomach or the brain”). Only true Christians
have the right to interpret the Scriptures, and correct interpretation is
found only within the church (De prae. haer. 19; 37).25
A rhetorical outline of De praescriptione offers the following
divisions:26
22. Everett Ferguson, Early Christians Speak (3d ed.; Abilene, Tex.: ACU Press,
1999), 19–28, relates the two as “the faith preached and the faith believed.”
23. For the same argument from the lateness of heresy, see Adv. Herm. 1; Adv.
Marc. 1.1; 4.5; Adv. Prax. 2. On disciplinary matters, Tertullian later reversed the
argument claiming further revelation from the Paraclete. See De mon. 2; De virg.
vel. 1. The catholics turned the argument from novelty against Montanist practices
(De iei. 1; 13).
24. See further on this passage below.
25. For Tertullian’s principles of interpretation in general, see R. P. C. Hanson,
“Notes on Tertullian’s Interpretation of Scripture,” JTS 12 (1961): 273–79; J. H.
Waszink, “Tertullian’s Principles and Methods of Exegesis,” in Early Christian
Literature and the Classical Intellectual Tradition: In Honorem Robert M. Grant
(ed. W. R. Schoedel and R. L. Wilken; Paris: Beauchesne, 1979), 17–31; and for this
treatise, Geoffrey D. Dunn, “Tertullian’s Scriptural Exegesis in de praescriptione
haereticorum,” JECS 14 (2006): 141–55, who argues that Tertullian as a rhetor
varied his principles of interpretation according to the situation and the arguments of
his opponents.
26. I follow with some modi¿cation Dunn, “Tertullian’s Scriptural Exegesis,”
143–47, who also gives rhetorical outlines suggested by others.
I. Introduction, 1–14.
A. Exordium, 1–7.
B. Praemunitio, 8–14, clearing away by anticipation preliminary objections.
II. Partitio, 15–19.
A. Propositio, 15. Contesting the grounds of the opponents’ appeal.
B. Probatio, 16–18. Only Christians have a right to the Scriptures.
C. Partitio summarized, 19. From whom, by whom, when, and to whom is
the faith
III. Refutatio, 20–37.
A. From Whom is the Rule of Faith, 20.1–5.
B. Through Whom is the Rule of Faith, 20.6–30.17.
C. When Comes the Truth, 31–34.
D. To Whom Has the Rule Come, 35–37.
IV. Peroratio, 38–45.
A. Reprehensio, 38–43. Ridicules Practices of Heretics.
B. Conclusio and Recapitulatio, 44–45.
De praescriptione haereticorum
The treatise, De praescriptione, has rightly gained attention because of
the novelty of Tertullian’s argument. This, however, has resulted in the
neglect of recognizing the premise of the whole discussion, the authority
of Scripture. The student of the treatise must remember its polemical
purpose and not generalize some of its arguments to represent the whole
of Tertullian’s thought on Scripture.27 The argument in De praescriptione
is another of Tertullian’s occasional pieces and thus coheres with his
practice of varying his approach to the situation at hand. He does not use
the speci¿c argument of this treatise elsewhere, although elements of his
case (for instance, the priority of truth to falsehood) do occur in other
writings.
It is notable that in De praescriptione when arguing that “heretics” can
be refuted without appeal to Scripture, Tertullian actually says a great
deal about the authority of Scripture and gives Paul a particularly promi-
nent place in the discussion. Implicit in the thesis of the treatise is the
authority of Scripture.
27. Waszink (“Tertullian’s Principles,” 22) notes that in spite of De praescrip-

tione Tertullian does not hesitate to use Scripture continuously in polemic against
Gnosticism. Dunn (“Tertullian’s Scriptural Exegesis,” 150) states, “In dealing with
non-Christians [whom Tertullian considered heretics to be] one had to use other
sources of argumentation. One should not generalize and claim that Tertullian down-
played the Scriptures; he did so only when he could not use them in an argument.”
Statements about Scripture

Tertullian appeals to three sources for his teaching: it was “in accord
with Scripture, Nature [or reason], and Discipline [ecclesiastical prac-
tice].”28 Of these, Scripture is the premise and its interpretation the issue
in De praescriptione, and reason is his method. Without the Scriptures
and their misinterpretation, there could not be heresies (De prae. haer.
39). Paul’s statement in 1 Cor 11:19 leads Tertullian to acknowledge, “It
was indeed necessary that there should be heresies,” but with the quali-
¿cation, “it does not follow from that necessity that heresies are a good
thing.”29 In this context he makes one of his af¿rmations of the lateness
of heresy in contrast to the truth.
As to the content of Scripture, this treatise contains Tertullian’s
fourfold formulation of the books in his “canon”:30 the church at Rome
“combines the Law and the Prophets with the writings of Evangelists and
Apostles, from which she drinks in her faith” (De prae. haer. 36). Despite
the af¿rmations of the new covenant replacing the old, there was a
continuity between them, for the New Testament and the Old Testament
were united before Marcion separated them (De prae. haer. 30). The
authoritative Christian works are summarized as “sayings of the Lord
and letters of the apostles” (De prae. haer. 4).31 These letters of the
apostles are principally Paul’s. The Acts of the Apostles is Scripture (De
prae. haer. 22–23).
The argument against Marcion and Valentinus in De prae. haer. 38
presupposes that the New Testament was an identi¿able entity, even if its
exact boundaries were not ¿nalized. Valentinus, in contrast to Marcion,
“seems to use the entire volume [integro instrumento].” The Scriptures
were a standard accepted by heretics as well as the orthodox: “They
recommend [their opinions] out of the Scriptures… From what other
source could they derive arguments concerning the things of the faith,
except from the records of the faith?” (De prae. haer. 14).32 Yet, or rather
28. De virg. vel. 16.

29. De prae. haer. 30; 1 Cor 11:19 quoted also in 4, 5, and 39; referred to in 29;
cf. 1 on heresies giving opportunity of the faith being “approved.”
30. Everett Ferguson, “Factors Leading to the Selection and Closure of the New
Testament Canon,” in The Canon Debate (ed. Lee Martin McDonald and James A.
Sanders; Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2002), 306, cites other early statements of
this fourfold classi¿cation, and 308 discusses Tertullian’s usage of two testaments or
instruments.
31. Cf. “written record” and “writings of the Lord and the apostles” (De prae.
haer. 44).
32. Another indication of Christian Scriptures as a de¿nite entity may be found
in De prae. haer. 40: the devil adapts “to his profane and rival creed the very
because of this, Tertullian would deny to heretics the use of the Scrip-
tures. The heretics argued from Scripture, but Tertullian would not admit
them to the discussion of Scripture: “None may be admitted to the use of
the Scriptures,” except those “to whom belongs the possession of the
Scriptures” (De prae. haer. 15). The argument of the treatise is that
heretics have no right to challenge the church’s appeal to Scripture,
because Christians own the Scriptures and “we without the Scriptures
[the argument from the praescriptio] prove that they have nothing to do
with the Scriptures” (De prae. haer. 37). Moreover, faith saves (quoting
Luke 18:42), not skill in the Scriptures (De prae. haer. 14). The lateness
of heresy proves it is false because “truth precedes its copy” (De prae.
haer. 29; the argument is continued in 30–31 from the lateness of heresy).
Tertullian sought to exclude heretics from debating the meaning of
Scripture because he saw their interpretations as incorrect. To the justi-
¿cation which heretics gave to their inquiries from the Lord’s words,
“Seek and you shall ¿nd” (Matt 7:7), Tertullian appealed to context and
historical setting (the words are addressed to those who had not yet found
him to be the Son of God, De prae. haer. 8) and to the proper sense of
words, “the guiding principle of all interpretation” (nothing more is to be
sought after ¿nding and believing in Christ, De prae. haer. 9). Tertullian
warns that the devil can interpret Scripture (De prae. haer. 40).
The distinction of the covenants was an important hermeneutical prin-
ciple. The Jews were formerly in covenant with God (De prae. haer. 8).
Hence, although there is continuity between the old and new covenants,
which come from the same God, the new covenant is the standard for the
Christian.
Impressive are the statements of the authority of Scripture in De
praescriptione. Catholic teaching is in accord with Scripture; there is
nothing in the “instruments of doctrine” (instrumenta doctrinae, here the
New Testament writings) that “is contrary to us” (i.e., catholic Christians,
De prae. haer. 38). From the Scriptures “we have our being” (De prae.
haer. 38).33 The heretics acknowledged the authority of Scripture (De
prae. haer. 14–15) and indeed could not believe without the Scriptures
(De prae. haer. 23).
Tertullian’s chain of authority begins with the Lord and his apostles:
“In the Lord’s apostles we possess our authority” (De prae. haer. 6; cf.
documents of divine things and of the Christian holy ones—his interpretation from
their interpretations, his words from their words, his parables from their parables.”
33. We may compare what he says about the reading of Scripture in the
assembly: “We meet together in order to read the sacred texts… With the holy words
we feed our faith, we arouse our hope, we con¿rm our con¿dence” (Apol. 39).
36). The revelation through them is complete; hence, there is no need

to “seek” further than “the records of the faith” (De prae. haer. 9; 14).34
The instructions given by the apostles were from the Holy Spirit so that
the transmission of the truth was from the Holy Spirit to the apostles to
“us” (De prae. haer. 8). And the Holy Spirit was the “the steward of
God, the vicar of Christ” (De prae. haer. 28). The apostolic churches,
therefore, received the “original sources of the faith” (the “truth”) “from
the apostles, the apostles from Christ, and Christ from God” (De prae.
haer. 21). The “church has handed down [the Rule] from the apostles,
the apostles from Christ, and Christ from God” (De prae. haer. 37).
The apostles (the twelve) were chosen by Christ and, being endowed
by the Holy Spirit with the gift of miracles and speech, preached the
same doctrine and faith in Jesus Christ and founded churches (De prae.
haer. 20), to whom they delivered what was revealed to them (De prae.
haer. 21).35 The Lord’s teaching was fully delivered to the apostles, so
there can be no secret tradition (De prae. haer. 22). It is incredible that
the apostles did not make known the entire Rule of Faith to the churches
(De prae. haer. 27), nor is it likely that so many churches went astray into
the same faith (De prae. haer. 28). The apostles had authority because
Christ gave them power to work miracles (De prae. haer. 30; 44).
The apostles delivered the gospel by voice and subsequently in writing
(De prae. haer. 21). There was no difference in the doctrine communi-
cated by these two media. The Scriptures contain the apostolic teaching.
The Role of the Rule of Faith

Tertullian explains that he wrote this treatise to show that heretics could
be refuted without reference to the Scriptures (De prae. haer. 44; cf. 19).
He argues that “where the true Christian rule and faith are, there will
likewise be the true Scriptures and their exposition, and all the Christian
traditions” (De prae. haer. 19.2–3).36 The “Christian traditions” here are
the Christian message. Christian teaching, the Rule, originates in “the
34. For the apostolic authority of the New Testament, see Adv. Marc. 4.2.
35. A. A. R. Bastiaensen, “Tertullian’s Argumentation in De praescriptione
haereticorum 20, 1ff.,” VC 31 (1977): 35–46, gives a commentary on chs. 20–21,
stating that here Tertullian does not argue about doctrine as such but reasoning along
historical and factual lines concentrates on the origins of the catholic and heretical
systems.
36. On Tertullian’s use of tradition, see Everett Ferguson, “Paradosis and
Traditio: A Word Study,” in Tradition and the Rule of Faith in the Early Church:
Essays in Honor of Joseph T. Lienhard, S.J. (ed. Ronnie J. Rombs and Alexander Y.
Hwang; Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2010), 3–29
(18–21); and Johannes Quasten, “Tertullian and traditio,” Traditio 2 (1944): 451–84.
tradition of the apostles” (De prae. haer. 21), that is, in what the apostles
delivered (traditio in the active sense). Although the Rule was distinct
from Scripture, Tertullian would not have set them against each other,
for they gave the same teaching.
Dunn’s statement on the basis of De prae. haer. 19–21 and 37 that the
regula preceded Scripture is not precise.37 The apostolic teaching orally
delivered obviously preceded its written form, but just as obviously the
effort to formalize a statement of this teaching, ¿rst attested in Irenaeus
(Adv. haer. 1.10), is later than Scripture. Osborn is more accurate in
saying that one of Tertullian’s moves in exegesis is to ¿nd Scripture con-
centrated in the Rule of Faith, which is dependent on Scripture.38
O’Malley observes that Tertullian always sought clarity, and since
Scripture can be misunderstood, he made a prescriptive appeal to the
regula so as to exclude argument from Scripture.39
Following his statement of the regula ¿dei, Tertullian declares “This
rule was taught by Christ” (De prae. haer. 13).40 Rather than saying Christ
actually taught it in so many words, he probably means that this teaching
originated with Christ, and this summary accords with his teaching, for
he understands this teaching to have been transmitted through the
apostles.
As well as being a summary of the apostolic teaching, the regula could
also be described as a summary of what was believed (qua creditur, De
prae. haer. 13.1). It “was what was taught by Christ, passed on by the
apostles, recorded in the Scriptures, and lived by the church.”41 Thus, the
regula was a yardstick by which one distinguishes “a correct from an
incorrect interpretation” of the Scriptures.42 Yet, as Waszink states, the
regula is a norm for interpreting Scripture only with respect to the
statements contained in the Rule.43
37. Dunn, Tertullian, 21.

39. O’Malley, Tertullian and the Bible, 117. However, he makes the common
mistake of generalizing from Tertullian’s approach in one treatise to his overall
perspective.
40. Also Apol. 47.10; De prae. haer. 37.
41. Dunn, “Tertullian’s Scriptural Exegesis,” 147.
42. Ibid. Flesseman-Van Leer, Tradition, 178, notes three passages where the
regula is connected with exegesis: De prae. haer. 9.12; De pud. 8; and Adv. Prax.
20.
43. Waszink, “Tertullian’s Principles,” 21. He declares Flessseman-van Leer’s
equation of the Rule with the totality of Scripture “wrong.” He does not represent
her position precisely: her statements are “Scripture in its entirety expresses the
regula” (Tradition, 178); the regula is not “a formal principle outside of scripture,
The Place of Paul in the Argument

Paul’s reference to “this rule [kanǀn]” in Gal 6:16 may be the source of
Tertullian’s and others’ use of this word for the standard of teaching.44
Some indication of this may be the allusion in De prae. haer. 27: “In
order that the truth may be adjudged to belong to us, ‘as many as walk
according to the rule,’ which the church has handed down from the
apostles.” Similarly, De prae. haer. 37 refers to “as many as walk
according to the rule” for those to whom the truth belongs.
Tertullian appealed to Col 2:8, “See to it that no one beguiles you
through philosophy and vain deceit, according to human tradition,” add-
ing his own gloss, “contrary to the provision of the Holy Spirit,” to
support his warning against philosophy as the source of heresies (De
prae. haer. 7).45 Then comes his famous question, “What has Athens to
do with Jerusalem? What agreement is there between the Academy and
the church? What between heretics and Christians?” Tertullian explains
that Paul in Athens discovered the dangers of philosophy.46 It is justly
pointed out that Tertullian opposes curiosity, not reason, and that he is
often incorrectly cited as a champion of irrationality.47
Tertullian notes that the heretics make “very great use” of Paul. This
circumstance accounts for some of Tertullian’s frequent references to
Paul, but hardly all of them, for Paul was an accepted authority apart
from use by heretics.
The prominence of Paul in Tertullian’s argument in De praescriptione
may be seen from the number of scriptural quotations in the treatise. A
count of the quotations, including those already cited in this section but
not including allusions and references to events or occasions (which
might be more telling than quotations but would not alter the overall
picture) and not counting separately repeated quotations in the same
context, gives forty-one quotations from Paul, forty-one from the rest of
the New Testament, and seven from the Old Testament (including a
but the purport, intention of scripture itself” (p. 194); while af¿rming that “scripture
has to be explained according to the regula,” she adds that for Tertullian “it is
entirely impossible to place the regula in any way above scripture” (p. 180).
44. As argued by William R. Farmer, “Galatians and the Second-Century
Development of the Regula Fidei,” SecCent 4 (1984): 143–70. He suggests Marcion
as the source for the appeal to Gal 6:16, to which the orthodox countered with their
statement of what the Rule was. Of Tertullian’s works, Farmer uses only Adv. Marc.
45. He also quotes Wis 1:1.
46. So also in De an. 3.1 and De res. carn. 39.7–9.
47. Osborn, Tertullian, ch. 3; R. D. Sider, “Credo quia absurdum” [which
Tertullian did not actually say], CW 73 (1980): 417–19.
deutero-canonical work).48 The subject of false teaching may account for

the frequency of the Pastoral Epistles among the quotations. The quota-
tions from Paul are often snippets and largely out of context, but this one
treatise shows that Tertullian knew Paul thoroughly, and his writings
were Scripture, including the Pastorals.
I will exhibit the use of Paul by going through the treatise, taking in
order its use of Paul, apart from quotations on the necessity of heresies
and the dangers of philosophy noted previously.
In ch. 3, 2 Tim 2:19 is quoted among the texts answering the question,
“Do we prove the faith by the persons or the persons by the faith?”
because the Lord knows his own. The heretics wrongly quote 1 Thess
5:21 in their support (De prae. haer. 4). In ch. 5 on behalf of unity 1 Cor
1:10 is quoted (referred to also in 26) as something “heresies do not
permit.” Tertullian quotes Gal 5:20 and Titus 3:10–11 as instances of
Paul “in almost every epistle” condemning false doctrines (De prae.
haer. 6). He continues in the same chapter saying that heresy is self-
chosen and must be rejected whatever its apparent source, quoting Gal
1:8 and 2 Cor 11:14.
Chapter 7 includes a cluster of quotations from Paul against doctrines
originating in human philosophy (in addition to Col 2:8, 1 Tim 4:1; 1:4;
2 Tim 2:17; 1 Cor 3:18 and 25, attributed to “the Lord”).
Tertullian cites “the apostle’s” writings in 1 Tim 6:3–4 and Titus 3:10
as warrants for not entering into controversy with heretics (De prae.
haer. 16).
Paul’s being “caught up to paradise” (2 Cor 12:4) did not qualify him
to teach another doctrine (De prae. haer. 24).
A cluster of passages from the Pastorals are quoted in De praescrip-
tione 25 for the apostles teaching publicly and not giving secret teaching
to a few (1 Tim 6:20; 2 Tim 1:14; 1 Tim 1:18; 6:13; 2 Tim 2:2).49
Since it is incredible that the apostles “failed to make known to all the
entire rule of faith,” heretics used Gal 3:1; 5:7; 1:6; 1 Cor 3:1; and 8:2 to
show that the early churches corrupted the message. Tertullian countered
that Paul “rejoices and gives thanks to God” (Rom 1:8; Phil 1:3–4;
1 Thess 1:2) for faithful churches (De prae. haer. 27). Tertullian appeals
again to Gal 1:8, this time supporting the priority in time of truth over
heresy (De prae. haer. 29).
Tertullian uses 1 Cor 15:3–4 without actually quoting it to summar-
ize “the apostle’s” description of the life of Christ (De prae. haer. 30).
48. The numbers are approximate because the line between a brief or loose
quotation and an allusion is blurred.
49. De prae. haer. 22 declares that there is no secret tradition.
De praescriptione 33 cites some of Paul’s writings by name in recording

errors he taught against. He expressly refers to “Paul in his ¿rst epistle to
the Corinthians” for the denial of the resurrection (by Marcion, Apelles,
and Valentinus) as a doctrine denounced by the apostles. He refers to
Galatians as teaching against those who observed circumcision and the
law (Ebionites). He names Paul’s “instructions to Timothy” for errors
speci¿ed in 1 Tim 4:3 (“forbidding to marry,” so Marcion and Apelles);
2 Tim 2:3 (“resurrection is passed,” so Valentinians); and 1 Tim 1:4
(“genealogies,” so Valentinus). “In bondage to elements” (Gal 4:9, so
Hermogenes) is quoted in the same context without the source named.
Tertullian begins his conclusio with a quotation of 2 Cor 5:10 about
the future judgment when all must give account of their faith (De prae.
haer. 44).
Tertullian refers to Paul’s conversion as recorded in Acts (De prae.
haer. 23) and af¿rms that Paul and the other apostles preached the same
things (De prae. haer. 26, in support of the unity enjoined in 1 Cor 1:10).
I have withheld from this listing Tertullian’s handling of Paul’s
disagreement with Peter recorded in Gal 2:11–14 in order to give
separate treatment to it.50 Heretics used Paul’s rebuke of Peter to show
“something was wanting in” the original apostles (De prae. haer. 23).
Tertullian’s response seeks to show Paul’s secondary position in relation
to the original Twelve. In doing so, he refers to Gal 1:18, 24; and 2:9,
12–13. The disagreement between Paul and Peter had to do with conduct,
not doctrine. Tertullian continues that in defense of Peter even Paul said
“he made himself all things to all persons that he might gain all” (De
prae. haer. 24 referring to 1 Cor 9:19–22). Indeed, Peter could have
rebuked Paul circumcising Timothy despite his opposition to circum-
cision, yet Peter and Paul were equal in martyrdom.51
The distinctive argument of De praescriptione haereticorum takes
nothing away from Tertullian’s high view of Scripture, within which the
writings of Paul were so important.
50. In dealing with Gal 2:11–14, David M. Scholer (“Sed enim Marcion nactus
epistulam Pauli ad Galatas: Tertullian and Marcion on Galatians” [a paper given at
the Thirteenth International Conference on Patristic Studies, Oxford, 20 August
1999]) discusses mainly the three texts in Adv. Marc. (1.20.2–6; 4.3.2–4; 5.2.7–3.7).
Note also Sider, “Literary Arti¿ce,” 103–4.
51. In the account of the episode in Adv. Marc. 1.20, Tertullian attributes Paul’s
rebuke to his being a neophyte in the faith and explains that Paul later came to accept
the practice of becoming a Jew to the Jews (1 Cor 9:20). Note the same appeal to
1 Cor 9 in Adv. Marc. 4.3; 5.3, where Tertullian elaborates on the concessions to
those of weak faith and the inconsistency in conduct as distinct from doctrine.
CHRIST THE FOOLISH JUDGE IN
TERTULLIAN’S ON THE PRESCRIPTION OF HERETICS
Clare K. Rothschild
Never mind censuring the Judge;

rather prove Him to be an unjust one.1
Introduction
In On the Prescription of Heretics (written ca. 198–203 C.E.),2 Tertullian
attacks biblical interpretations contradicting the regula ¿dei (“Rule of
Faith”; De prae. haer. 13; 36).3 The nature of Tertullian’s argument in
this piece is blunt: Scripture, he insists, is the sole purview of Christians.
Christians are de¿ned as those upholding the regula ¿dei. Those who
1. Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 2.15.1. ET: FC.

2. This date is put forward by Timothy D. Barnes in Tertullian: A Historical and
Literary Study (rev. ed.; Oxford: Clarendon, 1985), 55. For a discussion, see
Geoffrey D. Dunn, “Tertullian’s Scriptural Exegesis in de praescriptione haereti-
corum,” JECS 14 (2006): 141–55 (on 142). Throughout this essay I rely on the Latin
version edited by R. F. Refoulé, Sources Chrétiennes (1957) and the English trans-
lation by T. Herbert Bindley: Tertullian: On the Testimony of the Soul and On The
“Prescription” of Heretics (New York: SPCK/Gorham, 1914), with modi¿cations. I
wish to offer special thanks to Robert Matthew Calhoun and Meira Z. Kensky for
sage critiques greatly enriching the ¿nal product.
3. “Praescriptiones” were pleas put forward by the defense to rule a plaintiff’s
case out of court on the basis of competence, either of the court or the opponent.
(Adolf Berger, Encyclopedic Dictionary of Roman Law [Philadelphia: American
Philosophical Society, 1953], 645). See Dunn, “Tertullian’s Scriptural Exegesis
in de praescriptione haereticorum,” 143. On Tertullian’s use of praescriptio, see
Jean-Claude Fredouille, Tertullien et la conversion de la culture antique (Collection
d’études augustiennes antiquité 47; Paris: Études augustiniennes, 1972), 195–218;
J. K. Stirnmann, Die Praescriptio Tertullians im Lichte des römischen Rechtes und
der Theologie (Freiburg: Paulusverlag, 1949); Robert D. Sider, Ancient Rhetoric and
the Art of Tertullian (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971), 25–26. Tertullian
casts his entire argument in this treatise as a legal simile, that is, he applies for a
legal injunction to proscribe use of scripture by heretics based on incompetence.
ROTHSCHILD Christ the Foolish Judge 35
offer scriptural interpretations running counter to this Rule are not

Christians (De prae. haer. 14; cf. 19) and should not, therefore, be per-
mitted to argue from Christian texts (De prae. haer. 15; 37).4 The New
Testament predicts that such false interpretations will arise. Their
appearance is, therefore, if reprehensible, expected.
Although in places in this tractate Tertullian delves into speci¿c scrip-
tural interpretations in breach of the Rule of Faith, his main point for the
piece is simply to bar them—that the faithful not become confused by
apparent discrepancies between the Bible and the Rule.5 Generally
speaking,6 the Rule consists of the following nine tenets: (1) one God;
(2) God as creator; (3) Jesus “seen by the patriarchs and heard by the
prophets”; (4) Jesus’ virgin birth; (5) Jesus’ kingdom kerygma; (6) Jesus’
miracles; (7) Jesus’ cruci¿xion, resurrection, and ascension; (8) Jesus’
sending the Holy Spirit to guide believers in his absence; and (9) Jesus’
coming judgment (De prae. haer. 13, 36; also De virg. vel. 1; Adv. Prax.
2; cf. Adv. Marc. 3.17; Adv. Iud. 9). Some of these tenets were important
points of debate in Tertullian’s day. Tertullian’s opponents (haeretici)
were even known to use Scripture to contradict them. Thanks to Scrip-
ture’s authority, such “proof-texting” persuasively bolstered the diver-
gent viewpoints. As a lawyer and Christian, Tertullian was aware that the
most expedient way to undercut these arguments was to eliminate their
scriptural proofs. His argument in this tractate aims, therefore, to con¿s-
cate Scripture from anyone refuting the Rule. In sum, the Prescription
constitutes an injunction against the use of Scripture as evidence for
heretical arguments without the proper interpretive key, the regula ¿dei.
A praescriptio is a call by the defense for incompetence, either of the
opponent or the court. A successful praescriptio ruled a plaintiff’s case
out of court.7 Whereas his legal terminology determines the form of his
4. The following statements are characteristic of Tertullian’s argument: “ ‘Your

faith,’ Christ said, ‘has saved you,’ not your argumentative skill in the Scriptures.
Faith is posited in a Rule: it has a Law, and Salvation that comes from the obser-
vance of the Law” (De prae. haer. 14); “This Rule, taught (as it will be proved) by
Christ, admits no questionings among us, save those which heresies introduce and
which make heretics” (De prae. haer. 13); “To know nothing contrary to the Rule is
to know everything” (De prae. haer. 14); “Our appeal, therefore, must not be made
to the Scriptures; nor must controversy be admitted on points in which victory will
either be impossible, or uncertain, or not certain enough” (De prae. haer. 18).
5. Marcion offered clear and simple writings (e.g., Antitheses); one might say
that here Tertullian counters with an equally clear and simple approach.
6. More than one version of the Rule exists in this tractate, let alone Tertullian’s
writings.
7. See n. 3 above.
argument in this tractate, the peroratio makes an emotional appeal to its

readers.8 With more irony than arguably anywhere else in his extant
writings, Tertullian closes his case by utilizing the rhetorical technique
of prosopopoeia.9 He introduces Christ and allows him to speak, not to
defend himself against heretics, but to exonerate the heretics (!) in an
ironic performance as a foolish judge. This short essay will examine this
section of text (De prae. haer. 44) arguing that: (1) 1 Cor 1 and the
so-called Fool’s Speech in 2 Cor 10–12 provide its Christian precedent
and implied warrant; and (2) in the general literary context of the Second
Sophistic,10 parodic ancient courtroom literature provides the speci¿c
literary context in which it would be understood. The essay concludes
with the implications of the parody for Tertullian’s case overall.11
Jesus as Foolish Judge

The relevant passage (De prae. haer. 44.3–12) imagines Tertullian’s
opponents in a trial at the ¿nal judgment. The scene opens in the heav-
enly court on judgment day. The opponents face trial before Christ and
his apostles. Against the charge of deliberate misinterpretation of the
Scriptures, some will, Tertullian postulates, claim ignorance. They will
8. Charles Munier, “Analyse du traité de Tertullien de Praescriptione Haereti-

corum,” RSR 59 (1985): 12–33.
9. Barnes discusses the argument of this tractate at some length but is silent
regarding its unusual ending: Tertullian: A Historical and Literary Study, 64–67,
cf. 120–21. Barnes also offers a helpful discussion of Tertullian’s participation in the
Second Sophistic, noting Tertullian’s af¿nity for satire (220) without mentioning
De prae. haer. 44 (211–32).
10. Timothy Whitmarsh, The Second Sophistic (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni-
versity Press, 2006); Christine Oravec, “ ‘Observation’ in Aristotle’s Theory of
Epideictic,” Philosophy and Rhetoric 9 (1976): 162–74. The Second Sophistic’s
emphasis on display oratory meant that a forensic speech could be performed with
the idea that the audience would “judge” it, that is, with the force of epideictic
rhetoric.
11. According to Athenaeus (following Polemon), È¸ÉĿ»ĕ¸ in antiquity began as
“burlesque poetry” (Hipponax) and expanded: “It entails imitation, but an imitation
which is intended to be recognized as such and to amuse. By exaggerating distinc-
tive features, it may simply invite ridicule and criticism of the original; or it may
exploit the humour of incongruity, coupled with exaggeration for ease of recogni-
tion, by combining the language and style of the original with completely alien
subject-matter. In both cases, but particularly where incongruity is intended to
achieve its effect, the targeted original may be a whole genre of literature rather than
an individual author” (OCD, “parody, Greek,” and “parody, Latin,” 1114–15 [on
1114]). Of Latin works, Petronius’ Satyricon exploits parody, perhaps, most.
deny awareness of both the predictions of bad doctrine and the law
against scriptural misinterpretation (e.g., 1 Tim 1:3–11; cf. Titus 1:11):
They will allege, I suppose (credo), that nothing was ever foretold them
by him or by his apostles about strange and perverse doctrines destined to
come, and that no command was given them about avoiding and abhor-
ring them.12
Furthermore, they will insist on apostolic status based on their perform-

ances of miracles:
They [the heretics] will add, besides, much about the authority of each
heretical leader, how they specially con¿rmed the belief in their own
teaching—how they raised the dead, restored the sick, foretold the future
so that they might deservedly be believed to be apostles! Just as though it
were never written that many should come working the greatest miracles
in defense of the deceitfulness of their corrupt teaching.13
Surprisingly, Christ, Tertullian says, will accept their defense—both the

plea of ignorance and the claim to apostolic status. As judge, Christ will,
thereby, acquit them of all charges. Tertullian sums up: the heretics,
therefore, “win pardon” (itaque ueniam merebuntur).14
Next, however, Tertullian posits a second15 group of heretic defen-
dants. This group does not claim ignorance of Christ’s predictions and
warning concerning the misuse of Scripture:
12. De prae. haer. 44.3: Credo allegabunt nihil unquam sibi ab illo uel apostolis
eius, de saeuis et peruersis doctrinis futuris praenuntiatum et de cauendis abomi-
nandisque praeceptum.
13. De prae. haer. 44.4–6: Agnoscant suam potius culpam quam illorum qui non
ante praestruxerunt. Adicient praeterea multa de auctoritate cuiusque doctoris
haeretici: signis illos maxime doctrinae suae ¿dem con¿rmasse, mortuos susci-
tasse, debiles reformasse, futura signi¿casse uti merito apostoli crederentur. Quasi
nec hoc scriptum sit uenturos multos qui etiam uirtutes maximas ederent ad falla-
ciam muniendam corruptae praedicationis. This is an ironic appeal to Rom 15:18–
19. The works of power furnish “evidence.” However, Scripture qua law anticipated
the production of miracles by deceivers, too.
14. De prae. haer. 44.6. Playing on Christian forgiveness is an extreme form of
sarcasm, stemming, according to the next passage, from Tertullian’s rejection of the
possibility of a second forgiveness.
15. Regarding the second group of defendants, this is where Tertullian’s irony
really gets going, because this group knew exactly what they were doing when they
created their bad doctrines. What judge could acquit someone who knowingly
commits a crime? Only an idiotic, unjust one! And, that is who the heretics
implicitly believe Jesus the judge to be!
But suppose some have stood ¿rm in the integrity of the faith, mindful of
the writings and denunciations of the Lord and his apostles, these, I
suppose, will be in danger of losing their forgiveness.16
Certainly, the reader imagines, these heretics will be convicted. Yet, in a

swift ironic turn, they too are pardoned. Christ is portrayed, ironically, as
a mercurial, irrational, and unethical judge who violates judicial canons
and basic standards of his of¿ce by af¿rming the scriptural record that
false teachings were predicted and prohibited, but admitting that he never
expected such laws to be taken seriously. At this point, indirect gives
way to direct speech, and Christ speaks:17
I had certainly forewarned you that there would be teachers of error in my
name and in that of the prophets and apostles too; and I had commanded
my disciples to teach the same to you with the idea, of course, that you
would not believe it.18
Christ admits that he did initially issue his teachings “once for all,” but
explains that later he rethought the commitment, deciding to retract some:
I had given the Gospel once for all, and the teaching of the same rule to
my apostles, but it pleased me afterwards to alter some points therein.19
He then lists various points that he modi¿ed.20 Unsurprisingly, they
correspond to Tertullian’s opponents’ chief arguments against physical
16. De prae. haer. 44.7: Si uero memores dominicarum et apostolica-

rum [scripturarum et] denuntiationum in ¿de integra steterint, credo de uenia
periclitabuntur.
17. On prosopopoeia: Demetrius, Eloc. 165–66; Rhet. Her. 4.66 (cf. 2.47–50);
Theon, Prog. 11, 117, 30–32 Sp.; Cicero, Orat. 85; and Rut. Lup. 2.6.
18. De prae. haer. 44.8: Praenuntiaueram plane futuros fallaciae magistros in
meo nomine et prophetarum et apostolorum etiam, et discentibus meis eadem ad uos
praedicare mandaueram.
19. De prae. haer. 44.9: Semel euangelium et eiusdem regulae doctrinam
apostolis meis delegaueram. Sed cum uos non crederetis, libuit mihi postea aliqua
inde mutare. Emphasis added.
20. Here Christ embodies Tertullian’s attack against heretics in De prae. haer.
38: “Those who proposed to put forth a different teaching were obliged thereby to
alter the doctrinal documents, for they would not have been able to teach differently
unless they had altered the sources of teaching. Just as with them corruption of
doctrine could not have succeeded without a corresponding corruption of its docu-
ments, so also with us integrity of doctrine would not be met with save with the
integrity of those documents whence the doctrine is drawn.” Also, “For although
Valentinus appears to use the whole volume, he nevertheless laid violent hands on
the Truth with a no less cunning bent of mind than did Marcion. Marcion openly and
nakedly used the knife, not the pen, since he cut the Scriptures to suit his argument;
whereas Valentinus spared them, since he did not invent Scriptures to suit his
resurrection of the dead,21 virgin birth, the claim that God is father, and
the prohibition against divergent teachings:
I had promised a resurrection, even of the Àesh; but I reconsidered it, lest
I might not be able to ful¿ll it. I had declared myself to have been born of
a Virgin; but afterwards this seemed disgraceful to me. I had said that my
father was he who makes the sunshine and the rain; but another and a
better father has adopted me. I had forbidden you to lend your ears to
heretics; but I made a mistake (sed erraui).22
Having concluded the ironic characterization, Tertullian quali¿es it in a
sincere voice as blasphemy of the type promulgated by heretics:
Such are the blasphemies capable of being entertained by those who
wander from the right path, and do not guard against those dangers
whereby the true faith is imperiled.23
This portrait of Jesus is, of course, farcical. It might be funny if it were
not so bitterly caustic. Tertullian’s cynicism peaks in Jesus’ speech when
he betrays an absurdly duplicitous character as judge. He is an unwise
and unfair heavenly magistrate who mocks his citizens and retracts
willy-nilly their laws.24 The model is not Socratic insofar as Jesus is not
the object of his own parody. It is parodic as Jesus is the object of
Tertullian’s spoof, albeit ironically. This parody constitutes a scathing
rhetorical climax to the tractate’s overall reproach.
argument, but argument to suit the Scriptures; and yet all the same he took away
more and added more in taking away the proper meaning of each particular word,
and in adding arrangements of systems which have no existence.”
21. Note that Tertullian is gathering up one very large segment of heretical
teaching for which Scripture (1 Cor 15) presents the major problem: the resurrection
of the “Àesh” (cf. 3 Corinthians) and not the resurrection of its nebulous alternative,
a “spiritual” body, as both Paul and the heretics teach. This is an excellent example
of why the regula ¿dei is needed; one would not be disturbed by 1 Cor 15 if one
knew that Paul did not teach differently from the rest of Scripture on this point.
22. Emphasis added. De prae. haer. 44.10–11: Resurrectionem promiseran etiam
carnis sed recogitaui ne implere non possem. Natum me ostenderam ex uirgine sed
postea turpe mihi uisum est. Patrem dixeram qui solem et pluuias fecit, sed alius me
pater melior adoptauit. Prohibueram uos aurem accommodare haereticis sed erraui.
The precise heresies to which Tertullian refers are spelled out in De prae. haer. 7
(cf. also end of De prae. haer. 23, 34), known for its statement “What has Athens in
common with Jerusalem? What has the academy in common with the church? What
have heretics in common with Christians?”
23. De prae. haer. 44.12: Talia capit opinari eos qui exorbitant et ¿dei ueritatis
periculum non cauent.
24. See Meira Z. Kensky, Trying Man, Trying God: The Divine Courtroom in
Early Jewish and Christian Literature (WUNT 289; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck,
2010). More below.
First and Second Corinthians as Precedent and Warrant

Although this is the only place in Tertullian’s writings in which Jesus is
depicted as foolish per se,25 elsewhere Tertullian describes himself and
other believers in this way. For example, in De prae. haer. 7, Tertullian
alludes to 1 Cor 1:20:
These are the doctrines of men and of daemons, generated for itching
ears by the ingenuity of that worldly wisdom which the Lord called
foolishness, and chose the foolish things.
Likewise, in Apologeticum 49, Tertullian disputes the rights of his oppo-
nents to different tenets of faith by ironically depicting himself and other
faithful believers as fools.26 In this passage, Paul’s ironical characteri-
zation of God’s wisdom as foolishness to the wise in 1 Corinthians and
Paul’s self-parody in 2 Corinthians offer a basis and warrant. In 2 Cor
10–12, Paul delivers the so-called Fool’s Speech,27 in which he claims to
be a fool and “boasts” to make the point—against his opponents—that
25. A bad judge is by de¿nition a foolish one. The sarcasm that the reader picks
up on is primarily Tertullian’s.
26. “These are the things which in us alone are called vain assumptions, but in
the philosophers and poets are instances of the highest knowledge and of extra-
ordinary ability. They are wise, we are foolish; they are worthy of honour, we of
ridicule, nay more than that, of punishment too. Let the opinions we hold be false
and deserving of the name of prejudice, but yet they are necessary; let them be
foolish, but yet they are advantageous, since those who believe them are constrained
to become better men, from fear of everlasting punishment and hope of everlasting
refreshment. Therefore it is inexpedient that those things should be called false, or
regarded as foolish, which it is expedient should be presumed to be true; on no
ground whatever ought that to be condemned which is bene¿cial. It is in you
therefore that we ¿nd this very prejudice which condemns the useful. Hence our
belief cannot be foolish, and, assuredly, even if it were false and foolish, it is never-
theless injurious to no one; for it is like many other things on which you inÀict no
penalties, unreal and ¿ctitious things, which are not prosecuted nor punished, as
being harmless; but indeed against such errors judgment ought to be pronounced, if
at all, by ridicule, not by swords and ¿res and crosses and wild-beasts; in which
unjust cruelty not only this blind rabble exults and insults, but certain of your own
selves also, who aim at popularity with the mob through injustice, make a boast of
it” (ET: Q. Septimi Florentis Tertulliani, Apologeticus [trans. A. Souter; Cambridge:
University Press, 1917]). N.B.: Tertullian exaggerates foolishness (ironically) as a
method of exaggerating the bene¿t provided by the “foolishness” (i.e., ethical rigor,
etc.).
27. H. D. Betz, Der Apostel Paulus und die sokratische Tradition (Tübingen:
Mohr Siebeck, 1972); L. L. Welborn, Paul, the Fool of Christ: A Study of 1 Corin-
thians 1–4 in the Comic-Philosophic Tradition (JSNTSup 293; London/New York:
T&T Clark International, 2005).
self-praise is the business of fools. Hans Dieter Betz, who ¿rst argued for
a parodic interpretation of the passage, comments:
In this wild and brilliant self-parody, the apostle demolishes the presump-
tions of his adversaries. He restores his credibility by discrediting theirs
through the use of his entire arsenal of irony, sarcasm, and parody. In this
fool’s speech he demonstrates that, if he wished, he could conform to the
standards of his critics but that he has good reason not to do so. In the
role of the fool he performs—without actually doing—that which he
judges to be inappropriate.28
Tertullian deliberately links his Christ parody to Paul’s self-parody in the

opening lines of ch. 44 of De praescriptione haereticorum.29 Alluding to
Paul’s heavily ironic exclamation in 2 Cor 11:1–2 (“I wish you would
bear with me in a little foolishness. Do bear with me! I feel a divine jeal-
ousy for you, for I promised you in marriage to one husband, to present
you as a chaste virgin to Christ”30), Tertullian writes:
What, then, will they say who have de¿led with the adultery of heresy
that virgin committed to them by Christ?31
In 2 Cor 10–12, Paul is a fool on Christ’s behalf. In De prae. haer. 44,

Tertullian simply pulls Paul out of the way and makes Christ his own
fool. Readers do not need to understand this rhetorical tactic to appreci-
ate the parody. But, for those who do, it adds an interpretive richness, not
to mention a warrant, for the audacious (bordering on blasphemous)
upcoming parody of Jesus. The parody itself bears only subtle similari-
ties to Paul’s. Both represent rhetorical climaxes of a defense.32 Also,
28. H. D. Betz, “Corinthians, Second Epistle to the,” ABD 1:1148–54 (on 1149).
Not everyone agrees with Betz’s reading of 2 Cor 10–12. See the discussion in
Margaret E. Thrall, 2 Corinthians 8–13, Vol. 2 (ICC; London/New York: T. & T.
Clark, 2000), 711–14.
29. Against Thrall (see previous note), the evidence provided by De prae. haer.
44 supports Betz’s thesis insofar as Tertullian, an ancient reader of Paul, read 2 Cor
10–12 ironically. Of course, Paul could not have supported Tertullian’s reading of
Scripture and the regula ¿dei as “law.” Concerning Tertullian’s reliance on Paul, see
especially Sider, Ancient Rhetoric, 9.
30. mÎ¼ÂÇÅ ÒÅ¼ţÏ¼Ê¿š ÄÇÍ ÄÀÁÉŦÅ ÌÀ ÒÎÉÇÊŧÅ¾ËжÒÂÂÛ Á¸Ė ÒÅšÏ¼Ê¿š ÄÇÍ. ½¾Âľ ºÛÉ
ĨÄÜË ¿¼Çı ½ŢÂĿ, ÷ÉÄÇÊŠÄ¾Å ºÛÉ ĨÄÜË îÅĖ ÒÅ»ÉĖ È¸É¿šÅÇÅ ÖºÅüÅ È¸É¸ÊÌýÊ¸À ÌŊ
ÉÀÊÌŊ.
31. De prae. haer. 44.2: Quid ergo dicent, qui illam stuprauerint adulterio
haeretico uirginem traditam a Christo? Cf. 2 Cor 11:2 (Vulgate): Aemulor enim vos
Dei aemulatione; despondi enim vos uni viro virginem castam exhibere Christo.
32. Although Paul likely did not compose 2 Corinthians as it is preserved today,
it is possible that Tertullian had this version or at least understood chs. 10–12 as the
Paul uses parody to mock the self-praise of his opponents much as

Tertullian uses parody to mock his opponent’s self-reliance.33 The quali-
ties are not identical but closely related. Tertullian’s opponents interpret
Scripture based on their own curiosity and insight. They “seek” for the
meaning of the text, rather than accept interpretations comporting with
the tenets of the regula ¿dei (De prae. haer. 8–12, 14). For Tertullian,
curiosity signals faithlessness (it killed the cat!): “Let curiosity yield to
faith, let fame give place to salvation” (De prae. haer. 14)—Tertullian’s
parody of a line of Cicero’s.34
Parodies of Heavenly Courtrooms

While the biblical warrant was probably important to Tertullian’s parodic
characterization of Christ, the Second Sophistic offers a popular literary
context in which this sketch would be read.35 Petronius’ Satyrica, for
example, offers numerous characterizations of individual professionals
behaving like fools. Tertullian’s Christ also resembles a few of Lucian’s
ironic portraits. In particular, he recalls Lucian’s description of Alexan-
der of Abonoteichus—not a judge, but a religious charlatan—who
nevertheless, like Christ in Tertullian’s parody, modi¿es predictions
ex eventu.36 In one case, Alexander encourages Severianus to invade
Armenia by predicting his triumph. When, at last, victory yields to
defeat, Lucian explains that Alexander’s records had to be changed:
When that silly Celt, being convinced, made the invasion and ended by
getting himself and his army cut to bits by Osroes, Alexander expunged
this oracle from his records and inserted another in its place. (Alex. 27)
Unlawful judges speci¿cally are objects of ruse in Seneca’s Apocolo-

cyntosis, a piece in which, amidst other courtroom buffoonery, the dead
culmination of the argument, deliberately imitating its placement in his piece.

Tertullian also deployed prosopopoeia on rhetorical grounds. The choices are not
mutually exclusive. See Sider, Ancient Rhetoric.
33. In De prae. haer. 6, Tertullian etymologizes “heresy” as one who “chooses”
for himself, that is, without reference to the Rule. One cannot read Scripture
properly apart from the Rule.
34. Cedant arma togae, concedant laurea laudi (“Let arms give place to the civic
gown, and the laurel wreath, to praise,” Cicero, Off. 1.77).
35. “Tertullian’s erudition and technique can thus both be viewed as a mani-
festation of the Second Sophistic Movement” (Barnes, Tertullian, 213).
36. Cf. Lucian’s The Fisherman, The Double Indictment, Icaromenippus, and
other such pieces in which courtroom malfeasance is mocked. See Kensky, Trying
Man, Trying God, 103–17.
emperor Claudius’ unlawful acts are put on trial at his arrival in the
heavens.37 Other examples can be summoned.38
Conclusions
The facts stated or assumed as Tertullian sees them are: (1) both “Chris-
tians” and “heretics” use Scripture as evidence to establish doctrinal
propositions; (2) the latter do not employ the regula ¿dei; (3) both Scrip-
ture and the Rule have the force of law in the eschatological tribunal.
Therefore, the heretics have no standing to furnish their own defense
from Scripture—both in the court of public opinion and before the
eschatological tribunal because they reject a critical part of the Church’s
legal framework. Tertullian seeks to make the case that heretical use of
Scripture does not deserve any attention from the faithful. Heretics refuse
to accept all of it, so they effectively reject all of it. This conclusion leads
naturally to his portrait of Christ as an unjust judge, which Christ would
be if he allowed defendants in his court to pick and choose the laws they
accept and reject. So, Tertullian heads straight into the gap and exag-
gerates the portrait, building upon Paul’s self-portrait in 2 Cor 10–12.
Tertullian’s attack on his opponents comes to a climax in a parody of
the heavenly courtroom on the Day of Judgment when Christ, as errant
and corrupt judge, botches their trial. Tertullian’s purpose for the parody
is three-fold. First, the courtroom is the forum Tertullian knows best.
Second, a courtroom parody best suits the form of Tertullian’s argument,
namely, a praescriptio against heretical proof-texting. And, third, one
of Tertullian’s primary opponents, Marcion, has attacked God (in parti-
cular the God of the Jewish Scriptures) as an unjust judge. In Adversus
Marcionem, Tertullian imagines an earthly trial of Marcion;39 the purpose
of the present parody is to imagine its divine counterpart.40 The parody,
37. See the discussion in Kensky, Trying Man, Trying God, 96–102. Kensky’s
excellent monograph organizes numerous depictions of divine courtrooms in bibli-
cal and classical literature of all genres in a history of discussions about justice in
general and theodicy in particular. The title of her book reÀects the thesis that
literary depictions of the divine courtroom allow readers to think critically about
divine justice or “try” their gods. Kensky treats Tertullian’s Adversus Marcionem
on pp. 284–92. Tertullian’s purpose for his parodic Christ is, to my mind, another
example of Kensky’s thesis.
38. See ibid., especially Chapters 2–7.
39. Ernest Evans, Tertullian: Adversus Marcionem (Oxford: Clarendon, 1972),
xvi.
40. The parody looks exactly like an illustration of Tertullian’s argument in
Adv. Marc. 2.15.
almost certainly directed against all heretics, has a distinctly anti-

Marcionite Àavor.41
Ultimately, this ironical portrait of Christ as unfair judge is intended
to appeal to its readers’ sense of justice. The readers, in a sense, serve as
jury of the trial. Tertullian puts before them a double trial: the heretics
are tried for wrongful use of Scripture and even as he is judge, for the
readers, Christ is “tried” for the manner in which he will adjudicate the
matter. Tertullian’s not so subtle point seems to be that by modifying
Christ’s law, heretics—as the contemporary counterparts of Jesus’ Jew-
ish and Roman accusers—re-try and re-condemn Christ.42 Ironically, the
heretics are acquitted, Christ, his Scriptures, and his law, condemned,
cementing what Everett Ferguson rightly points out, is perhaps the most
important assumption in Tertullian’s treatise, namely, the authority of
Scripture.
41. Tertullian spells out this attack on Marcion in Adversus Marcionem. See the
discussion in Kensky, Trying Man, Trying God, 288–92.
42. A charge against which there is no hope of recovery/second forgiveness,
according to Heb 6:6.
3
THE SPIRIT OF PROPHECY:
TERTULLIAN’S PAULINE PNEUMATOLOGY
David E. Wilhite
I am thy Father’s spirit.

—The Ghost to Hamlet (Act 1, Scene 5)
Although this essay is primarily on the “Holy Ghost” in Tertullian’s

works, I must confess that another ghost haunts these pages: the ghost of
Montanus.1 While most modern scholarship has read Tertullian and
Tertullian’s pneumatology almost exclusively through the lens of his
supposed conversion to Montanism, in the last few decades an over-
whelming consensus has emerged which rejects the notion that Tertullian
joined a schismatic group.2 The only question remaining is to what extent
Tertullian’s views were “Montanistic.” In what follows, I will be repeat-
edly forced to battle the ghost of Montanus, addressing Tertullian’s
supposed shift to Montanism, in order to show how little the paradigm
1. The prophet Montanus and the prophetesses Priscilla and Maximilla allegedly
led their fellow Phrygian Christians to break from the “catholic church” and form
the “New Prophecy” in 170 C.E. The teachings are said to have included celibacy,
millennial expectations, and nose-picking. On this last point, see Epiphanius,
Panarion 48.14.4. De¿ning this group has proved dif¿cult for recent scholarship, as
will be discussed below. For the sources, see Pierre de Labriolle, Les sources de
l’histoire du montanisme (Fribourg: Librairie de l’Université, 1913); and Ronald E.
Heine, The Montanist Oracles and Testimonia (PatrMS 14; Macon, Ga.: Mercer
University Press, 1989).
2. Tertullian’s shift to Montanism allegedly occurred ca. 206. For the sake of
convenience I will refer to Tertullian’s “early” or “pre-Montanist” works and “later”
or “Montanist” works so as to cue the reader as to when in Tertullian’s life a certain
argument is set. For discussion of the full chronology of his works, see René Braun,
Deus Christianorum (rev. ed.; Paris: Études augustiniennes, 1977), 567–77; Jean-
Claude Fredouille, Tertullien et la conversion de la culture antique (Paris: Études
Augustiniennes, 1972), 487–88; and Timothy D. Barnes, Tertullian: A Historical
and Literary Study (Oxford: Clarendon, 1971), 30–56, and “Postscript,” in Tertullian
(rev. ed.; Oxford: Clarendon, 1985).
of a “shift” or “conversion” helps in our reading of his works. I do so,

however, in order to explore Tertullian’s pneumatology in relation to
his reading of Paul. Tertullian’s understanding of the Holy Spirit is
thoroughly Pauline, and Tertullian’s comments on the Holy Spirit center
primarily on the Spirit’s role in prophecy, be it “old” or “new.”
New Prophecies and a New Consensus

The past half-century of scholarly investigation into the life of Tertullian
has formed an overwhelming consensus that Tertullian was not a
Montanist schismatic.3 This revised view has scarcely found its way into
the standard reference works utilized by non-specialists, perhaps because
of two factors in particular. First, Tertullian himself frequently and
favorably invoked Montanus, Priscilla and Maximilla by name, seeming
to require the conclusion that Tertullian was in some sense a Montanist.
The aforementioned consensus, however, has found the matter to be
much more complex, and it is the ill-de¿ned notion that Tertullian was a
Montanist “in some sense” that has continued to cause confusion, which
brings us to the second factor.4
3. The term “Montanism” itself is now widely acknowledged by scholars to be

anachronistic, but remains in the discourse as a necessary evil. I will variously refer
to “Montanism,” in quotation marks or with some indication that the term is disputed
in order to signal to the reader that the now deconstructed category is often assigned
to a certain writing or teaching of Tertullian. For discussion, see William Tabbernee,
Montanist Inscriptions and Testimonia: Epigraphic Sources Illustrating the History
of Montanism (Macon, Ga.: Mercer University Press, 1997); “ ‘Will the Real Para-
clete Please Speak Forth!’: The Catholic–Montanist ConÀict over Pneumatology,”
in Advents of the Spirit: An Introduction to the Current Study of Pneumatology
(ed. Bradford E. Hinze and D. Lyle Dabney; Milwaukee, Wis.: Marquette University
Press, 2001), 197–218; “To Pardon or Not to Pardon? North African Montanism and
the Forgiveness of Sins,” StPatr36 (2001): 375–86; Christine Trevett, Montanism:
Gender, Authority and the New Prophecy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1996); “Gender, Authority and Church History: A Case Study of Montanism,”
Feminist Theology 17 (1998): 9–24; Alistair Stewart-Sykes, “The Original Con-
demnation of Asian Montanism,” JEH 50 (1999): 1–22; and Nicola Denzey, “What
Did the Montanists Read?,” HTR 94 (2001): 427–48.
4. Trevett, Montanism, 69, 73, concludes that he “may properly be described as
a Montanist,” only not a schismatic one. Tabbernee, “To Pardon,” 375–86; “Recog-
nizing the Spirit: Second-generation Montanist Oracles,” StPatr 40 (2006): 521–26;
Fake Prophecy and Polluted Sacraments: Ecclesiastical and Imperial Reactions to
Montanism (VCSup 84; Leiden: Brill, 2007), adamantly denies a schism between
Tertullian and the Carthaginian church. Even with such a caveat, Tabbernee remains
comfortable describing Tertullian as an “adherent” and Montanism as a “move-
ment.”
WILHITE The Spirit of Prophecy 47
Even the phrase “New Prophecy” is problematic and needs further

nuance. While there are instances when Tertullian refers to “the New
Prophecy” in the singular and times when he cites the Phrygians by
name, there are other times when Tertullian seems to refer simply to
“new prophecies” or ongoing prophetic utterances in his own Carthagin-
ian church with no ties whatsoever to the original millennialist move-
ment which expected Jerusalem to descend on Pepuza or Tymion.5
As it stands, there are three options available in terms of identifying
Tertullian’s “Montanism.” First, Tertullian parted ways with the catholic
party. Jerome (De virg. vel. 53) was the ¿rst to espouse this view,
probably based solely on his reading of Tertullian’s texts wherein Jerome
heard him defending the “heretical” Montanist party. Second, Tertullian
somehow converted to the New Prophecy, but was allowed to remain in
good standing with the catholic party.6 In this view, Tertullian’s antago-
nism towards his opponents who do not embrace “the New Prophecy” is
explained by stipulating that he belonged to an ecclesiola in ecclesia,
that is, a faction not yet excommunicated by the catholic party in Tertul-
lian’s day. This view understands Tertullian to become a Montanist
theologically, and yet not a schismatic ecclesiologically. I ¿nd, however,
that the ground for this (admittedly majority) view is shifting sand. There
is no reference, explicit or otherwise, to an ecclesiola in ecclesia in
Tertullian’s works.7 Third, Tertullian remained in good standing with his
Carthaginian church, and any “Montanist thinking” evident in his writing
would have been acceptable in his context. Because of a complete lack of
evidence that Tertullian was a schismatic, L. J. van der Lof agreed with
5. Rex D. Butler, The New Prophecy and “New Visions” (PatrMS 18; Washing-
ton, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2006), reÀects this dynamic in
his alternating use of “New Prophecy” and “new prophecies.” For the view that
Tertullian only knew of Phrygian “Montanists” via texts, see Gerald Bray, Holiness
and the Will of God: Perspectives on the Theology of Tertullian (London: Marshall,
Morgan & Scott, 1979), 10–11, 55; and William Tabbernee, Prophets and Grave-
stones: An Imaginative History of Montanists and Other Early Christians (Peabody,
Mass.: Hendrickson, 2009), 94. The possible fragment in Praedestinatus, De prae.
haer. 1.26, is debatable at best and only testi¿es to a belief in immanent judgment.
6. First championed by Douglas Powell, “Tertullianists and Cataphrygians,”
VC 29 (1975): 33–54, and then corroborated by David Rankin, Tertullian and the
Church (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). The consensus of scholars
follows Powell and Rankin.
7. Tabbernee, Fake Prophecies, 66, suggests this may have even been a house-
church, but he stresses that Tertullian mentions no “Montanist church” nor
“Montanist clergy.”
Powell and Rankin in rejecting option one.8 Van der Lof, however, took
this view further, ¿nding no evidence that Tertullian belonged to any
form of a subgroup or faction within the church of Carthage. Tertullian
was simply in good standing with his Carthaginian Christian community,
and his embrace of ongoing prophetic utterances seemed to have been
not only tolerated but welcomed by Christians in Carthage, as attested by
Cyprian who, in the succeeding generation, endorsed both Tertullian and
ongoing visions and prophecies.9
Tertullian remained, and repeatedly referred to himself as, within the
church. His supposed Montanism is largely an endorsement of “new
prophecies” or ongoing ecstatic utterances, which was in fact the norm
for Christians in his context.10 More work needs to be done on the
question of what exactly changed in Tertullian’s thinking and writing
after his encounter with the New Prophecy, for a growing chorus of
voices has called for us to recognize Tertullian’s consistency of thought
in both his “pre-Montanist” and “Montanist” periods and to appreciate
Tertullian’s independence of thought from the Phrygians.11 While time
8. L.J. van der Lof, “The Plebs of the Psychici: Are the Psychici of De Mono-
gomia Fellow-Catholics of Tertullian?,” in Eulogia: Mélanges offerts à Antoon
A. R. Bastiaensen à l’occasion de son soixante-cinquième anniversaire (ed. G. J. M.
Bartelink, A. Hilhorst, and C. H. Kneepkens; Steenbrugis: In Abbatia S. Petri, 1991),
353–63.
9. I have elsewhere argued against any notion that Tertullian belonged to a
faction within the Carthaginian church on the grounds that Tertullian’s opponents
are not in Carthage. See David E. Wilhite, “Identity, Psychology, and the Psychici:
Tertullian’s ‘Bishop of Bishops,’ ” Interdisciplinary Journal for Research on Reli-
gion 5 (2009): art. 9; Tertullian the African (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2007). The dif¿culty
lies in trying to identify Tertullian’s intended audience as opposed to his rhetorically
constructed audience. Cf. Andrew McGowan, “Tertullian and the ‘Heretical’ Origins
of the ‘Orthodox’ Trinity,” JECS 14 (2006): 437–57. Tabbernee, Fake Prophecy,
66–67, surveys the Carthaginian possibilities.
10. Butler, The New Prophecy, repeatedly shows how the so-called Montanist
distinctives were in fact shared by a wide array of second- and third-century
Christians who had no ties whatsoever to the Phrygian movement.
11. This list includes: H. J. Lawlor, “The Heresy of the Phrygians,” in
Orthodoxy, Heresy, and Schism in Early Christianity (New York: Garland, 1993),
338 (¿rst published JTS 9 [1908]: 481–99), who warned, “Tertullian brought far
more to Montanism than he found in it.” So also Hans von Campenhausen, The
Fathers of the Latin Church (trans. Manfred Hoffmann; London: A. & C. Black,
1964), 31, who contended, “As a Montanist, Tertullian did not become other than he
had always been.” Similarly, Gerald Bray, “Tertullian and Western Theology,” in
Great Leaders of the Christian Church (ed. John D. Woodbridge; Chicago: Moody,
1988), 50, surmised, “It seems probable, therefore, that Tertullian saw Montanism as
and space do not allow for such a thorough study in this present essay,
elsewhere I have contended that dismissing Tertullian’s views as
“Montanist” is premature, and his works should be further explored apart
from such imprecise categories.12 In the following analysis, I will explore
Tertullian’s pneumatology, especially in reference to Paul, ¿nding a shift
that does in fact occur in Tertullian’s theological vocabulary (i.e., the
Holy Spirit is more frequently called “the Paraclete”). The said semantic
shift, however, is found to be largely cosmetic, and it certainly was
occasioned by the controversy at hand more than a prior “conversion”
a movement that advocated some of his own teachings. He was therefore inclined to
rate it highly, though it is most improbable that he ever became a Montanist in the
strict sense.” Tabbernee, Montanist Inscriptions, 234, avers, “Tertullian’s views are
not necessarily applicable to other Montanists.” Tabbernee, Fake Prophecy, 131
(with reference to Salmon, “Montanus,” in the Dictionary of Christian Biography,
Literature, and Sects [ed. William Smith and Henry Wace; London: Murray, 1877–
1887], 3:943) offers a lengthier exposition which is worth citing in full: “Even this
statement [i.e., Jerome’s], undoubtedly meant pejoratively by Jerome, should not
be taken to mean, as has often been the case, that there was a radical change in
Tertullian’s theology and practice of Christianity after 208… The New Prophecy, as
Tertullian understood it, did not contradict ‘orthodoxy.’ As Salmon pointed out long
ago: “The bulk of what Tertullian taught as a Montanist, he probably would equally
have taught if Montanus had never lived.” The Montanist logia simply enabled
Tertullian more easily to take his own beliefs to their logical conclusions: conclu-
sions he may have reached anyway sooner or later.”
Geoffrey D. Dunn, Tertullian (Routledge: London, 2004), 6, states, “[W]e do not
know the extent to which he recast Montanism to suit his own inclinations…” Cecil
M. Robeck, Prophecy in Carthage: Perpetua, Tertullian, and Cyprian (Cleveland:
Pilgrim, 1992), 124, discusses Tertullian’s use of Priscilla’s oracle, concluding, “It
provided no new theological insight,” but it “corroborated” Tertullian’s opinion. In a
similar approach, Annemieke D. ter Brugge, “Between Adam and Aeneas: Tertullian
on Rejection and Appropriation of Roman Culture,” StPatr 49 (2010): 3–8 (4 n. 8)
agrees that Tertullian’s views remain unchanged regarding Roman culture. For dis-
cussion and response to this matter, see Vera-Elisabeth Hirschmann, Horrenda Secta:
Untersuchungen zum frühchristlichen Montanismus und seinen Verbindungen zur
paganen Religion Phrygiens (Historia Einzelschriften 179; Stuttgart: Steiner, 2005).
12. David E. Wilhite, “Tertullian on Widows: A North African Appropriation of
Pauline Household Economics,” in Engaging Economics: New Testament Scenarios
and Early Christian Interpretation (ed. Bruce Longenecker and Kelly Liebengood;
Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 227–29. Also see Ronald Kydd, “Polemics and the
Gifts of the Spirit in Tertullian, Irenaeus, and the Excerpts from Theodotus,” StPatr
45 (2010): 433–37, who discusses Tertullian’s treatment of 1 Cor 12–14 with no
reference to Montanism. To be clear, I do not mean to offer an apologia for
Tertullian’s “orthodoxy.” I simply ¿nd the label of “Montanist thinking” applied to
his work to be reifying, misleading, and ultimately unconvincing.
to a “movement.” Tertullian’s pneumatology remains largely Pauline

throughout his writings, except he borrows the Johannine language of
Paraclete when explaining the distinct operations of the Spirit (but sur-
prisingly, not for differentiating the person of the Spirit). The Johannine
vocabulary, while substantial in thought when contesting patripassion-
ism, nevertheless never eclipses Tertullian’s indebtedness to Paul.13 Just
what makes Tertullian’s views Pauline will be discussed below.
The Im-/Personal Spirit

Tertullian employs the term spiritus in two different ways, and these
two usages appear to the modern reader to stand in structural tension.
They are the personal and the impersonal.14 For Tertullian the notion of
a spiritus frequently implies a cognizant agent. When speaking of
believers, Tertullian can refer to the witness “of body and of spirit”
which stand in chiastic parallel to what is endured “in the conscious-
ness and in the Àesh” (in conscientia et in carne, De virg. vel. 12.1).15
Similarly, Tertullian refers to the spirit within a newborn as a synonym
for the intellectual capacity (intellectuum) within the child, the agency of
knowing and comprehending (De an. 19.7–8). The notions of intellect
and consciousness do not entail the whole of what a spirit is for
Tertullian, but the spirit is nevertheless the personal aspect of agency
within a being. The spirit is that which is cognizant or aware, as in the
case of virgins who are betrothed. They are already married “in spirit by
way of their inner awareness” (spiritus per conscientiam, De or. 22.10).
The spirit in terms of personal agent is that which animates, it is “the
body’s chariot driver, the animating spirit” (De an. 53.3).
13. Just how “faithful” Tertullian is to “Paul” falls outside of the aim of the
present study. For one, I will explore Tertullian’s use of Pauline letters without
judging matters of accuracy, proper exegesis, or hermeneutics. Also, to Tertullian,
the whole Pauline corpus is by Paul. I will leave the question of the Pauline
authorship of certain texts to the side.
14. The modern reader must not insist too rigidly on this binary opposition, for
Tertullian would be misunderstood. For a modern understanding of a person,
especially in the sense of a Cartesian ego, is notoriously problematic when interpret-
ing early Christian theology. Therefore, I will destabilize the impersonal–personal
dichotomy at the conclusion of this section. But for now, I will discuss each usage in
turn.
15. All of Tertullian’s texts have been taken from CCSL1–2; all translations are
my own.
In this sense, spiritus stands in contrast with the Àesh, and thereby
the term is often synonymous with the soul, or animus, and it is this
animating agency within the body that makes a human personal (e.g.,
Apol. 30.5).16 Embodied humans, however, are not the only ones to be
characterized by a personal spiritus. Tertullian can employ spiritus in
terms of personal agency when speaking of “evil spirits,” and he does so
throughout his oeuvre. Tertullian envisions demons and unclean spirits
as personal agents in every sense, not just as personi¿ed forces of evil.
Counterbalancing these unholy spirits of the devil, there is also the Holy
Spirit of God. And yet, Tertullian also will speak of the Spirit of God in
impersonal terms, and it is to this other meaning of the term spiritus that
I now turn.
Given the fact that Tertullian inherits the tradition of pitting the Àesh
in structural opposition to the spirit, it is not surprising that confusion
about the human “spirit” arose. Some identi¿ed spiritus as the personal
agency within a human body with the Spirit of God. In response,
Tertullian would attempt to clarify.
Taking the primordial meaning of spiritus to mean wind or breath,
Tertullian further extracted a theological meaning from this word’s
etymological root.17 When speaking of the Àesh–spirit dichotomy, the
spirit is the internal personal agency. When speaking in terms of the
soul–spirit distinction, the spirit is more properly the breath, symbolic of
the act of respiration, which is necessary for life/animation but is distinct
from it.18 While a complete treatment of Tertullian’s anthropology is
beyond the scope of the present study, it is helpful to recognize that
Tertullian appreciated the basic meaning of wind/breath for spiritus, for
his Christology and pneumatology entail the same primordial meaning of
this term.19 Moreover, these two usages, the impersonal and the personal,
that is, wind/breath and soul/consciousness, not only apply to the human
spirit, they also apply to the divine.
16. Tertullian contrasts Àesh and spirit throughout his works.

17. See, for example, the “wind” (spiritus) blowing through a pipe organ (De an.
14.4) and the “wind” (spiritum) which carries a pleasant odor (De an. 17.13). Cf.
where the devil is said to have tempted Eve with his words and “breathed” (adÀata
est) on her a corrupt “wind” (spiritu, De pat. 5.9).
18. “[B]reath and spirit (Àatus et spiritus) are approximately the same” (De an.
5.2; 9.6), for “to breathe is to spirate” (Àare spirare est, De an. 11.1; and see all of
11–16). At other times, however, Tertullian is comfortable claiming the spirit is the
soul, for “to breathe is to live (spirare vivere est)…and both breathing and living
belong to that which properly lives, which is the soul” (De an. 10.7).
19. See the recent discussion and secondary sources in Matthew C. Steenberg,
“Sinful Nature as Second Nature in Tertullian of Carthage,” StPatr 46 (2010): 17–19.
It would be tempting to assume that Tertullian’s de¿nition of spiritus

shifted in his “Montanist” period from an impersonal force to a personal
agent, since the New Prophecy would devote more attention to the
distinct personhood of the Holy Spirit.20 Such an assumption, however, is
incorrect. First, in Tertullian’s so-called Montanist writings, he continues
to discuss the s/Spirit of God as an impersonal substance. Second, in
regard to the human spiritus, there are as many examples in each phase
of his writings that employ both the personal and impersonal uses.
Instead, one ¿nds the key variable for determining which usage
Tertullian will employ to be Tertullian’s dialogical interlocutor and his
rhetorical aim. On the one hand, when debating the patripassionists and
laxists with the aim of de¿ning the nature of Christ, Tertullian will
continue to use spiritus in the impersonal sense (and these works are
written well into his “Montanist” phase).21 On the other hand, when
writing against heretics with the aim of clarifying the human spirit’s
relationship to the divine Spirit, Tertullian will de¿ne the former as
impersonal and the latter as personal, regardless of how pre- or post-
“Montanist” his work may be.22
Tertullian knew it to be common to read the creation account from
Gen 1:2 as referring to the Spirit of God. Alternatively, he insisted the
spiritus (cf. %#:/ÈÅ¼ıÄ¸) in this passage must not be understood as “God
himself” (ipsum Deum), but as the “wind” created by God. He con¿rms
this by cross-referencing other passages.23 Tertullian’s opponents,
however, did not always agree, and more problems arose out of the
creation accounts of Genesis that challenged Tertullian’s view.
20. To be sure, Tertullian’s hermeneutic of scripture was not always consistent;

see Geoffrey D. Dunn, “Tertullian’s Scriptural Exegesis in de praescriptione
haereticorum,” JECS 14 (2006): 141–55 (142).
21. E.g. Adversus Praxean. For this reason, Pierre de Labriolle, La crise
Montaniste (Paris: E. Leroux, 1913), 354, averred that Tertullian’s works should be
divided into sub-phases of Montanist development. Following de Labriolle’s
recommended labels, Braun, Deus Christianorum, 572–76, deems these periods
“Sous l’inÀuence montaniste” and “Rupture avec l’Église.” The problem with such a
view, however, is that no “rupture” is detectable in Tertullian’s works. See Rankin,
Tertullian, xiv.
22. Cf. De baptismo (= “pre-”) and De anima (= “post-”).
23. Adv. Herm. 32.2–3, referencing Isa 57:15 (LXX); Amos 4:13. Cf. Irenaeus,
Adv. haer. 5.12.2. See also where Tertullian (De bapt. 3.2 and 4.1) speaks of the
spiritus in Gen 1:2 as God’s Spirit. See, too, Adv. Marc. 2.6.3; 2.8.2, where the
adÀatus Dei is spoken of in personal terms.
All We Are Is Wind in the Dust

Tertullian understood the creation account to teach a clearly de¿ned
anthropology which corresponded to, but did not overlap with, the divine
ontology. At creation, God made “man” as the divine imago. Following
Irenaeus, Tertullian understood God to create Adam with the telos of the
divine similitudo or likeness. That which made the human the image of
the divine was not God’s Spirit, although this term would have sounded
synonymous with the divine “breath” (adÀatus).24 Instead, God’s hands
made human Àesh, while God’s breath (adÀatus) animated the human
and instilled the Àesh with a soul (animus).
At this point there arises an important distinction for Tertullian
between spirit as personal agent and spirit as breath, and the differing
usage depends upon the occasion. On the one hand, Hermogenes claimed
the soul was material and derived from Àesh, resulting in humans not
being in God’s image;25 on the other hand, Valentinus claimed the soul
never participated in the Àesh, resulting in a complete obfuscation
between the human spirit and God’s Spirit.26 Against Hermogenes,
Tertullian insisted that spirit is non-carnal, for it is not the same as the
empirical Àesh of man; against Valentinus, Tertullian postulated that a
soul has its own proper corporeality, for it is not the same as the in¿nite
and unbounded Spirit of God.27 In the former discourse, the soul and
spirit are united; in the latter, they are distinct.
Aside from this occasioned terminology, Tertullian would offer his
own understanding of the correspondence between the human and divine
spiritus. The soul stands directly in between Àeshly nature and spiritual
nature, as reÀected in its created substance. Tertullian explains the rela-
tionship between the divine Spirit and the human by leading his audience
through a set of questions:
24. E.g. Cicero, De or. 2.46.

25. Adv. Herm. passim; De an. 1.11; 11.1–6.
26. De an. 11.6; 24.2.
27. Adversus Valentinianos passim. Augustine criticized this view, probably
understanding “corporal soul” as more concrete (like the Stoics) than Tertullian
himself intended. See where Tertullian rejected this Stoic understanding explicitly
(Adv. Herm. 1.4; De an. 1.1; De mon. 16.1–2, which is an important nuance to what
he says in De an. 5.2–3). Augustine, however, never resolved his own view of the
soul because of the problems inherent in rejecting Tertullian’s view. It would be
Anselm, who apophatically de¿ned the nature of the soul in a way both Tertullian
and Augustine would likely have found satisfactory: “Is it true that a created spirit is
bounded (circumscriptus) when compared to you [Lord] but unbounded (incircum-
scriptus) compared to a material object?” (Proslogion 13). See Anselm, Proslogion
(trans. Thomas Williams; Indianapolis, Ind.: Hackett Publishing, 2001), 15.
Q.1: How was Adam made of “dust” (Gen 3:19) and yet was formed
as clay (Gen 2:7 [cf. Vg.])? The answer is that the dust was
turned to clay by moisture—obviously!
Q.2: But whence this moisture? It comes from the “breath (afÀatu) of
God.”
Q.3: And what is this “breath”? It is the “steam of the Spirit” (vapor
spiritus, De an. 27.7).
The “breath” (adÀatus) of God, according to the Greek Scriptures (Adv.

Marc. 2.9.1–2), is not the same as the Spirit of God. The adÀatus
breathed into humanity is ontologically distinct from God (De an. 11.1;
41.3), making the human soul an “image” of the divine Spirit (Adv.
Marc. 2.9.3–9). God created the human soul to be a bearer of the divine
Spirit and thereby grow in God’s likeness. Through sin, however, the
imago became warped and incapable of becoming similitudo, that is,
until God redeemed humanity through Christ.
The Spirit of God, received at baptism (De bapt. 8–9, referencing
1 Cor 10:2), re-makes God’s warped image into God’s likeness (De bapt.
5.7). Crediting Paul with the proper ordo salutis, Tertullian explains
how the soul received by the breath of God at creation came ¿rst, but
when this soul succumbed to the lower impulses of the Àesh it became
“carnal.”28 This human whose soul had become carnal no longer parti-
cipated in the divine Spirit, and therefore should not be known as
“spiritual” but as “carnal,” or if you like, because of the carnally driven
corruption of the soul, “animal.”29 Tertullian’s explication of this “carnal”
and “animal” state is laid out fully in his work De anima, which is
usually labeled “Montanist.” While it would be tempting to attribute this
contrast to Tertullian’s alleged conversion to Montanism, I contend that
it is best read in light of Tertullian’s Pauline theology.
A few brief reasons will suf¿ce to explain the hermeneutical prefer-
ence for “Paulinism” over “Montanism” in interpreting this passage, or at
the very least, not allowing “Montanism” to be the whole of our heuristic
lens. First, while Tertullian does mention ecstatic prophecy which occurs
“among us” in De anima, he does not mention Montanus, Priscilla, or
28. See De an. 11.3, referencing 1 Cor 15:46; and De an. 40.2, referencing Gal
5:16–17; Rom 8:5.
29. Tertullian’s anthropological dualism, however, never ¿ssured into a full
Platonistic dichotomy which places the Àesh in binary opposition to an immortal
soul, for Tertullian never broke with the integrative view of Justin (see Dial. Tryph.
5) and Irenaeus (Adv. haer. 2.34.4; 5.6.1). In response to those who would lay blame
on the Àesh so as to exonerate the spirit, Tertullian asks, “Is it for you to divide the
acts of the Àesh and of the spirit, which commune and connect so greatly both in life
and in death and even in resurrection?” (De paen. 3.6).
Maximilla anywhere in this work, nor does he make any reference to

“the New Prophecy.”30 In the famous passage where Tertullian describes
a woman who prophesies ecstatically and sees visions (De an. 9.3–4),
Tertullian is clearly describing something of a familiar phenomenon in
his Carthaginian church’s liturgy. Powell and Rankin understood this
scene to be Tertullian’s ecclesiola in ecclesia, that is, the Montanist party
within Carthage. The passage has most recently been understood, how-
ever, to refer to the normal practice of having the lay elders (seniores
laici) “test the spirits.”31 This testing, of course, is Johannine language
(cf. 1 John 4:1), but the practice itself, the waiting until after the spirit’s
work, is equally Pauline (e.g., 1 Thess 5:19–20; Eph 4:30).32 Moreover,
Tertullian’s description explicitly invokes Paul: “[F]or her [the proph-
etess’s] full guarantee the apostle spoke of future spiritual gifts (charis-
mata) in the church” (De an. 9.4, referencing 1 Cor 12). Beyond this
explicit evocation of the Apostle Paul, Tertullian’s description of the
woman’s prophecy, wherein she talks to angels and converses with the
Lord, bears a striking resemblance to the description of the man caught
up into the third heaven (2 Cor 12). Tertullian’s prophetess even “hears
mysteries” (audit sacramenta), which is likely his translation of the
phrase “hears unspeakable words” (ôÁÇÍÊ¼Å ÓÉÉ¾Ì¸ ģŢÄ¸Ì¸, 2 Cor
12:4).33 Lastly, Tertullian’s dichotomy throughout this work between
“spiritual” (spiritalis) and “animal” (animal) is certainly Pauline, for he
has not yet begun to use the transliteration of “psychic” (psychicus) as he
would in later works wherein he does invoke the Phrygian prophets
by name.34 Most importantly for the present discussion, Tertullian’s
30. Barnes, Tertullian, 43–44 n. 7, claims his reference to Perpetua as proof of

Montanism in this text. In fact, when Tertullian addresses the charge of “pseudo-
prophecy” (commonly understood in his later writings to be an attack against his
“Montanist party”), it is solely in reference to non-Christian philosophers and
diviners (De an. 2.3; 57.9). Tertullian betrays no awareness that this accusation
might in any way be directed to himself or any “movement” to which he belongs.
31. For the more recent view, see Brent D. Shaw, “The Elders of Christian
Africa,” in Mélanges offerts à R. P. Etienne Gareau (Numéro spéciale de cahiers des
études anciennes; Ottawa, Editions de l’Université d’Ottawa, 1982), 207–26 (209);
William Tabbernee, “Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry in Carthage
c. 203 C.E.,” PRSt 32 (2005): 421–41 (441); Wilhite, Tertullian the African, 178.
32. See Tertullian’s explicit use of the Ephesians passage for similar aims in De
res. carn. 45.11 and Adv. Marc. 5.15.5.
33. The Vulgate for this passage is more literal than Tertullian’s translation:
“audivit arcana verba.”
34. The notion that using “psychic” for one’s opponents is a sign of “Montan-
ism” (Barnes, Tertullian, 44) is problematic. For one, the earliest evidence of this
comes from Clement of Alexandria (Strom. 4.13), who claims the “Phyrgians” or
categorizing of Àesh vs. spirit also entails the notion that each of these
terms refers to a distinct substance. He is not forwarding a more informed
view of “Spirit” as person due to his encounter with the Paraclete via the
New Prophecy. Rather, Tertullian continues to forward a substantialized/
ontologized and impersonal use of spiritus, a usage that at times seems to
create problems for his Christology.
May the Force Be with You

In the previous section, examples were given which illustrated how
Tertullian often retained the primordial meaning of “breath” or “wind”
for spiritus. Here it remains to see how Tertullian’s abstraction of spirit
distinct from the Àesh—the life-force, if you will, which animates the
Àesh—results in his use of spirit as a synonym for the non-Àeshly sub-
stance. This usage governs his terminology about God, speci¿cally the
Son of God, but it has rami¿cations for his view of the Spirit of God as
well. First, Tertullian can easily use “spirit” as the de¿nitive substance of
the object in question or even as an abstract force, such as the many
times he echoes scriptural language about the “spirit of” various virtues.35
“the New Prophecy,” as well as the Valentinians, call their opponents “psychics,”
which Irenaeus, Adv. haer. 1.1.11–12, also reports. In fact, this simply seems to be a
common rhetorical device of Christian polemicists stemming back to Paul: Rom
7:14; 15:27; 1 Cor 3:1–3; 9:11; 2 Cor 1:12; 10:14. Cf. 1 Pet 2:11; Jude 23; 2 Clem.
14. Tertullian may well have learned to utilize the spiritual/psychic polemic from the
Phrygians, but he would have already encountered the Valentians (and Paul!) doing
the same. To understand Tertullian’s usage of these terms only as “Montanist” leaves
much to be desired. Much less does the terminology make him “Montanist.” One
might compare Clement of Alexandria’s use of “Gnostic” terms and later misunder-
standings. See Piotr Ashwin-Siejkowski, Clement of Alexandria: A Project of
Christian Perfection (London: T&T Clark International, 2008); Clement of Alex-
andria on Trial: The Evidence of “Heresy” from Photius’ Bibliotheca (Leiden: Brill,
2010).
35. For example, the spirit of wisdom, knowledge, discernment, counsel (Adv.
Iud. 9:26; Adv. Marc. 3.17.3–4; 5.8.4; 5.17.5; all with reference to Isa 11:1–2), or
even in regard to a “spirit of heaviness” (Adv. Marc. 4.14.13, referencing Isa 61:13);
or, quoting Paul by name, the believer does not have the “spirit of fear” but of
power, love, and a sound mind (Scorp. 13.11, referencing 2 Tim 1:7); and Paul
wishes to come in a “spirit of gentleness” (De pud. 14.14, referencing 1 Cor 4:18–
21). These abstracted forces of virtue are offset by the abstracted “spirit of heresy”
(spiritus haereticus, Adv. Marc. 1.16.1, in which he cites Rom 1:20 and Col 1:16). It
is worth noting that many of these instances come from “Montanist” works; yet,
instead of guarding spiritus as clearly personal and of God, Tertullian remains
comfortable utilizing this abstracted, impersonal form. Likewise, Tertullian’s
Also, Tertullian can speak in impersonal abstract terms about the two
kinds of “elements (elementorum), corporate and spiritual” (Apol. 17.1).
These spiritual “elements” can alternatively be called “spiritual sub-
stances” (substantias…spiritales, Apol. 22.1; cf. De bapt. 4.1), and as
such stand distinct from “bodily” and “earthly” substances (De bapt.
8.4). Demons, angels, and even stars can be said to consist of this “spiri-
tual substance by nature” (natura substantiae spiritalis, De carn. Chris.
6.9; cf. 15.1–2).
Were it not for his clear statement about God’s “spiritual substance,”
Tertullian would seem to be a clear proponent of binitarianism. For
Tertullian, Christ was the “Spirit and Word of God” (Dei spiritus et
ratio, Apol. 23.12; cf. Adv. Marc. 4.33.9); that is, eternally Christ has
been “the Spirit of God…and the Son of God” (De res. carn. 14.5). The
Word of God can so easily be understood under the name of Spirit that
Tertullian can even gloss Paul’s statement about how philosophy
misleads and is “against the wisdom of the Holy Spirit” (De prae. haer.
7.7 with reference to Col 2:8). Paul, however, had said this wisdom was
of “Christ.”36
Knowing that Tertullian embraced (or even de¿ned!) Christian
Trinitarianism, one might expect Tertullian’s so-called Montanist period
to avoid such binitarian language and embrace a more nuanced distinc-
tion between the Word of God and the Spirit of God.37 Tertullian,
however, continued to sound binitarian well into what Barnes called his
most “aggressive” Montanist works.38 He asks, “And what is the ‘Word’
if not the ‘Spirit’?” (De res. carn. 37.7). Regarding the incarnation,
explicit delineation of “spirit” as substantia, or even a “nature” (natura), continues

unabashed throughout his so-called Montanist works (e.g., Adv. Val. 10.5; 18.1;
22.2; 27.1; De an. 5.3; 10.2; 18.5; De res. carn. 62.2; Adv. Marc. 2.6.3; 2.8.4; 3.9.7;
De pud. 9). In this sense Tertullian employs the adjective “spiritual” throughout his
works, that is, in reference to things of a spiritual nature or substance.
36. However, taking into account the wider passage of Col 2, where Paul con-
trasts the natures of Àesh and spirit (ÈÅ¼ŧÄ¸ÌÀ) and then speaks of Christ fully
embodying (ÊÑÄ¸ÌÀÁľË) the divine (= spiritual?) substance (¿¼ŦÌ¾ÌÇË), Tertullian’s
gloss becomes, if not more permissible, at least more interesting as a “close reading”
of Paul. On “close reading,” see Elizabeth Clark, Reading Renunciation: Asceticism
and Scripture in Early Christianity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999),
118–22.
37. For example, Adv. Val. 11.1–2, where Valentinus clearly differentiates Christ
and the Spirit in the Pleroma. In more “orthodox” terms, see Adversus Praxean. For
discussion and bibliography, see McGowan, “Tertullian,” 437–57.
38. Barnes, Tertullian, 139. Barnes, however, is not addressing Tertullian’s
pneumatology, and he notes other motifs in Tertullian that run counter-intuitively to
his “Montanist” progression in thought.
Tertullian, along with most early Christians, reads the annunciation in

binitarian terms. The Spirit not only descended upon Mary but was also
born of her as the Son of God.39 Prior to the incarnation, God spoke his
word to Moses, and Tertullian asks, “Who was spoken, if not the Spirit
of the Creator, who is Christ?” (Adv. Marc. 3.16.5; 5.8.4–5). Near the
end of his career, in his work Adversus Praxean, he aims to counter the
modalistic thinking of those who famously “put to Àight the Paraclete”
(Adv. Prax. 1.5). In a piece where one would expect that Tertullian
would carefully articulate a distinction between the divine persons more
than ever, he continued his practice of equating the Son with the Spirit,
for the Son of God is “the Word and Spirit of God” (Adv. Prax. 12.6–8;
14.9; cf. 19.3). All of these examples illustrate the lack of any “shift” or
“conversion” to Montanist thinking in Tertullian’s works. These examples
also serve to demonstrate how Tertullian’s thought was deeply shaped by
the language of Spirit as substance, for, of course, Tertullian is not
binitarian even in his early works and is certainly not in his later works.
From his later works, one ¿nds clear examples where Tertullian
differentiates the person of the Son from the person of the Spirit.40 In
some of Tertullian’s later works, which are ¿lled with polemic about the
Paraclete and wherein one would expect to ¿nd a carefully nuanced
pneumatology, the reader instead hears Tertullian focusing on the person
of the Son with only offhand remarks about the Spirit. In Adversus
Praxean, Tertullian combats the simpletons who cannot understand the
“Father, Son, and the Spirit” in terms of their trinitatem but only in terms
of the divine unitatem (2.3–4). He, on the other hand, believes there are
three within the Godhead, ¿nding “the Spirit to be from the Father
through the Son” (Spiritum…a Patre per Filium, Adv. Prax. 4.1). The
immediate dispute is that of patripassionism, and so Tertullian devotes
most of this work to the distinction between the Father and the Son. It is
noteworthy that he focuses on Johannine passages in doing so.41 The
39. See Adv. Marc. 1.19.2. Cf. Luke 1:35; 3:1. In this passage Tertullian is
mocking Marcion’s view that the Spirit was born directly out of heaven, apart from
contact with a human, but he nevertheless betrays his own reading of the annun-
ciation in this passage. See Adv. Iud. 13.23; De res. carn. 19.5; 20.1–7; Adv. Prax.
26.2–5; 27.3–5. It is noteworthy that Tertullian’s only instance of clarifying the
person of the Son from the person of the Spirit in terms of the virgin birth comes in
his so-called pre-Montanist period. Note De prae. haer. 13.3, where Christ is con-
ceived “by the Spirit” (ex spiritu) and so is not the Spirit in se.
40. Especially poignant examples include Adv. Val. 11–14; 17.1; De an. 1.4; De
res. carn. 58.5; Adv. Marc. 3.22.7; 3.24.10–11; 5.17.6.
41. See the Logos of John 1:1–18 in Adv. Prax. 7; 8.4, 12, 15, 21; 26.2–5; 27.15.
Multiple Johannine texts (John 1:1; 6:8; 8:26; 10:30; 14:11) are cited in the crucial
analogy of light from John’s prologue is creatively applied and supple-

mented by Tertullian, for God’s threeness and oneness is like the sun,
with a ray, and the illumination point; or like a spring, a canal, and the
reservoir; or even like a root, bush, and fruit. He explicitly links each
analogy to the Father, Son, and Spirit (Adv. Prax. 8.5–7).42 The one
signi¿cant passage from John that establishes the distinction of persons
between the Son and Spirit is Jesus’ promise to send “another Paraclete”
(Adv. Prax. 9.1–4). After this distinction is established, the focus is
entirely on the ¿rst Paraclete, that is, Christ, and his united-yet-distinct
relation to the Father.43
In sum, the work most renowned for Trinitarian thinking has surpris-
ingly little to say about the unique personhood of the Spirit, who seems
to be more an afterthought, a third who necessarily follows the discus-
sion of the second. To be sure, Tertullian repeatedly refers to the Spirit in
Montanist terminology as the “Paraclete,” and even defends the right of
Montanus et al. to practice “prophecies” (once in Adv. Prax. 1.5). Yet,
the Paraclete language should come as no surprise, given the use of
Johannine thought to differentiate the persons of the Father and the Son
in this text. In other words, the terminology of the Paraclete is not unique
to Montanus. In fact, the only reference to the “New Prophecy” (Adv.
Prax. 30.5) is part of a distinction with Jewish monotheism; the “New
Prophecy” is “new” because it comes from the “New Testament” (Adv.
Prax. 31.1). “Montanists” do not gain insight into the persons of the
Godhead (Adv. Prax. 31.2); rather, it is they who accept the revelation of
the divine persons via the incarnation and teaching of the Son who have
perception. Moreover, this revelation of plurality within the Godhead, as
Tertullian explained earlier, is summarized in the Rule of Faith (Adv.
Prax. 13.5), and he explicitly credits this Rule to Paul.44 The text,
passage of 8.3–5. John 14:16, 28 appear in Adv. Prax. 9.1–4; 16.6–7; 30.5. John
10:30 is exposited more fully in Adv. Prax. 25.1; 27.15, as is John 3:6 in Adv. Prax.
27.14. Tertullian does credit Paul’s Christology when emphasizing the monotheistic
trend of differentiating the Father as “God” and the Son as “Lord” in order to claim
divinity for both (Adv. Prax. 13.7–9, referencing Rom 1:7; 9:5; and Adv. Prax. 15.7,
referencing to Rom 9:5).
42. Cf. Justin, Dial. 128.
43. There are, however, a few interspersed references to the distinct agency of
the Spirit, who prophesies in the Old Testament (Adv. Prax. 11.6–9; 12.2–7; 13.2–9).
Cf. also the contrast with Jewish monotheism (Adv. Prax. 31.1–2).
44. See all of Adv. Prax. 13, referencing Gal 1:1. Cf. Adv. Marc. 4.2.5, refer-
encing Gal 2:2. It is somewhat surprising that Tertullian nowhere cites Gal 6:16 nor
Phil 3:16 to support his claim. In terms of the general outline, see the shift from a
Triune outline of Persons to a discussion of the relationship between the Father and
although co-opting “Paraclete” terminology, is not so much “Montanist”

as it as “anti-patripassionist.” At this time, a hypothesis can be offered
which explains this blending of Montanist-sounding terminology and
thought—Tertullian relies on Johannine thought for Christology, but
even when keeping the distinct name of “another Paraclete” for differ-
entiating the Spirit from the Son Tertullian utilizes Pauline texts for his
pneumatology.
In addition to this lengthy work against Praxeas’s patripassionism,
Tertullian also penned three other works soon thereafter: De monogomia,
De ieiunio, and De pudicitia. Each addresses the laxist practices of the
Roman church that stand in contrast with the Paraclete’s teaching on
discipline. To be sure, these texts sound the most “Montanist,” especially
in the use of the term Paraclete for the Holy Spirit. I merely wish to
contend that this terminology, representing the few times in which a
distinct personhood and agency is attributed to the Spirit in these texts,
does not fully account for Tertullian’s pneumatology, for the focus in
these texts falls squarely on the discipline itself with surprisingly little
explicitly Trinitarian language counterbalanced by surprisingly large
amounts of binitarian phraseology (listed above). The problem with
dismissing Tertullian’s late pneumatology as “Montanist” becomes
especially clear in light of Tertullian’s earlier works, which supply multi-
ple instances of his view of the full personal agency of the Spirit as well
as Trinitarian outline of persons. This calls into question the notion of a
“shift” in Tertullian’s pneumatology from his “pre-Montanist” writings.
Tertullian’s early “pre-Montanist” works are also full of instances
where he thinks of the one God in terms of three persons. It comes as no
surprise that Tertullian follows the baptismal formula in the triune names
of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit (De bapt. 13.3), and he continues to refer
to the Spirit’s work after Pentecost (e.g., De bapt. 18.2) in what is clearly
a distinct personhood from the Father and the Son. Similarly, in his work
on prayer Tertullian differentiates the work of the “Spirit” prior to the
incarnation from the incarnate “Lord” himself (De or. 1). Then, when
giving the theological groundings of prayer, Tertullian explains how the
Spirit takes the words taught to believers by the Son (that is, the “Lord’s
Son in Adv. Prax. 4.4 (noting 1 Cor 15:24–25), wherein Tertullian explicitly shifts
from Pauline thought to Johannine (see Adv. Prax. 5). Tertullian later shifts back
from Christology to pneumatology and then Trinitarianism writ large in Adv. Prax.
28.12, and once again shifts explicitly to “the apostle” (referring to Eph 1:17). He
also announced a brief shift to Pauline thinking in Adv. Prax. 8.3–5, referencing
1 Cor 2:11. See, similarly, De res. carn. 50.4–5, referencing to 1 Cor 15:50 and John
6:63.
Prayer”) to the Father (De or. 9). In fact, this prayer is uttered three times
each day, a practice meant to commemorate our debts to “the Father, the
Son, and the Holy Spirit” (De or. 25). Akin to prayer in general is the
practice of penitence, wherein the Spirit, the one received at baptism
(De paen. 2.4) and not the same who was born of Mary (De paen. 2.5),
intervenes in the heart, enabling repentance and imparts heavenly goods
(De paen. 2.6). When speaking to heretics, Tertullian invokes the Rule of
Faith that should be followed by all. This rule, itself Trinitarian in
outline, is not the only guide, however, for the Son ascended to the
Father and “sent the Spirit to lead [into all truth] those that believe”
(De prae. haer. 13.5; cf. 22.8–9, referencing John 16:12). Tertullian also
cites the Triune baptismal formula from Jesus’ ¿nal words in Matthew
(De prae. haer. 20.3) and explains the latter’s work after the ascension of
Christ (De prae. haer. 20.4; 22.10–11; 28.1–4).
To recap what seems to be an inconsistency in Tertullian, one ¿nds his
use of spiritus as impersonal force or substance so that Christ is “Spirit,”
which sounds binitarian. Yet, at other times, Tertullian uses spiritus as
personal and distinct from Christ, which sounds Trinitarian. Furthermore,
both usages appear in his early and in his late writings, ruling out any
dismissal of this apparent inconsistency due to his suspected “Montan-
ism.”45 Within this analysis, a pattern has emerged which further supports
the hypothesis that Tertullian more clearly articulates the distinct person-
hood of the Holy Spirit when utilizing Pauline texts. Now, it remains to
be seen how Tertullian himself explicitly de¿nes this term so as to
resolve the apparent dilemma and how Paul informs his thinking on this
matter.
The Substance of the Father

In his work De carne Christi, Tertullian offers the reader clari¿cation on
how the term spiritus vacillates between the two poles of impersonal
force and personal agency within Christ himself. He begins the work by
admitting that the “bodily substance” (corporalem substantiam) is in
question not the “spiritual” (De carn. Chris. 1.2). Yet, Tertullian also
speaks of the Spirit who descended on Christ in the form of a dove at his
baptism in terms of personal agency (De carn. Chris. 3.8–9).
45. Admittedly, “Montanisms,” such as the use of the terms Paraclete and
Psychic, abound in Tertullian’s later works, the explanation of which cannot be fully
accounted for here. In short, I believe Tertullian to coopt the terminology of others
when it suits his cause, a tactic for which he is notorious. His opponents would not
have missed this tactic, even if later readers, such as Jerome, did miss it.
These impersonal and personal uses of what is meant by “spirit”

remain in a dialectical tension. For the Àeshly/human substance is united
in Christ’s person with the spiritual/divine substance—a remarkable
anticipation of Chalcedon’s de¿nition (De carn. Chris. 5.6–8).46 The
spiritual substance of Christ is God’s substance, as Tertullian ¿nds in
John. First, “that which is born of spirit is spirit” (John 3:6); next, “God
is spirit” (4:24); ¿nally, “[Jesus] was born of God” (1:13). Tertullian
cites all of these texts together to explain how Christ is spirit (De carn.
Chris. 18.5–7), which would sound binitarian were it not that Christ’s
divine nature is in view (cf. De carn. Chris. 19.5–20.7). But even this
“spirit” in Christ, distinct from the third person of the Godhead, is not
merely impersonal, which would ironically imply something inanimate,
for it is the Spirit in Christ which acts and operates. Then, when shifting
to the economy of divine persons, Christ is not Spirit as in the Spirit. For
just as the Word was God/divine and yet the Word was with God and so
not the Father (John’s prologue is referenced in De carn. Chris. 19.1);
thus the Word is Spirit/divine. Yet “the Word is with the Spirit of God”
(cum dei verbo spiritus, De carn. Chris. 19.2), so is not the Spirit.
In his earlier work, the Apologeticum, Tertullian had made the same
argument about Christ’s relationship to divinity, only more succinctly.
For Christ is “spirit of spirit,” making him divine in “substance” (Apol.
21.11; referencing John 3:6). Yet the Logos was “supported by the
Spirit” (spiritu fultum, Apol. 21.17), making him distinct in personal
agency. It is worth noting once again that Tertullian’s pneumatology is
subordinate to his Christology and that Tertullian once again draws upon
Johannine texts instead of Pauline ones.
When offering more explicit differentiation between the divine
substance and the third person of the Godhead, Tertullian returns to
Pauline texts. When Tertullian expounds on “the apostle’s” confession
that “Christ died according to the Scriptures” (Adv. Prax. 29.1, referenc-
ing 1 Cor 15:3), he focuses on how it is that Spirit or divine “substance”
in Christ can suffer. The solution is found in that it is the Àesh that
suffers, not the divine substance that is in the Àesh. With this, the patri-
passionists agree. Tertullian and his opponents differ, however, in terms
of “who” suffers. Praxeas and company claim it was God the Father,
while Tertullian follows Paul to clarify that “ ‘Christ was made a curse,
for our sake,’ not the Father” (Adv. Prax. 29.3, referencing Gal 3:13).
Now that he has shifted from substance to persons, Tertullian also shifts
46. Similarly, see De pat. 3.4; De carn. Chris. 5.6–8; 18.1–7; De res. carn.
53.17; De fug. 8.2–3; Adv. Prax. 27.6; 29.2; 30.2.
from abstract philosophical de¿nitions to concrete pastoral application.

Although the Spirit/divine-substance is impassible in Christ (Adv. Prax.
29.6), the Spirit/divine-person enables “our” suffering for Christ (Adv.
Prax. 29.7). In Adv. Prax. 29.7 the Spirit “in us” (in nobis) is the one who
“speaks through us” (loquitur de nobis) our “confession” (confessionis).47
A similar shift occurs when Tertullian contrasts the war of the “Àesh”
against the “spirit,” which is at least partly a statement about spiritus as
substance (De mon. 1.5). Tertullian invokes Paul’s statement about these
dueling substances and interprets the Spirit’s role in this battle by also
citing the text from Genesis to which Paul alludes: “Then the LORD said,
‘My spirit shall not abide in mortals forever, for they are Àesh; their days
shall be one hundred twenty years’ ” (Gen 6:3). The NRSV cited here
keeps the Hebraic sense of Yahweh’s “spirit” (%#:), but for Tertullian
(and Paul?) the Lord’s Spirit is here the Paraclete who acts in the
believer’s life of disciplining the Àesh (De mon. 2).48 Again, while the
Johannine language of Paraclete is salient throughout the rest of this text,
Tertullian utilizes Paul when bridging the Paraclete’s personal agency
and divine substance. Paul additionally informs Tertullian’s thinking
about the Spirit in terms of the Spirit’s role.
The Role of the Divine Persona

Tertullian learns the Spirit’s role more from the apostle’s teachings than
any other source. To extend the metaphor of the term “person” as de¿ned
in antiquity (i.e., an “actor” in a play or even a mask worn by the actor,
that is, a role), the Spirit in Tertullian’s Theo-drama has a major speak-
ing part.49 The Spirit whispers the Word of God both in the script(ure)
and in the performance (liturgy).
One of the Spirit’s means of speaking is through the Scriptures. From
early in his writing career, Tertullian understood the Scriptures them-
selves to be the “voice of the Holy Spirit” (De idol. 4; 6).50 The Spirit not
47. Cf. Rom 8:16 (¸ĤÌġ Ìġ ÈÅ¼ıÄ¸ ÊÍÄÄ¸ÉÌÍÉ¼ė Ìľ ÈÅ¼ŧÄ¸ÌÀ ÷ÄľÅ) and Rom.
8:18 (ÌÛ È¸¿ŢÄ¸Ì¸ ÌÇı ÅıÅ Á¸ÀÉÇı). See, too, Rom 8:26. Rom 8:32 is quoted in Adv.
Prax. 30.4, showing this passage explicitly informs his thought.
48. Similarly, see De pud. 17.10–11, referencing Rom 7:18; 2 Cor 3:6; Rom
8:2–5.
49. Hans Urs von Balthasar, Theo-Drama: Theological Dramatic Theory (5 vols.;
San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1992), 3:211, credits Tertullian for noting this motif
more than most who followed.
50. See also where the Holy Spirit is said to be speaking through Adam (De an.
11.4; 21.1–2; De iei. 3.2), Enoch (De idol. 15), Baalam (Adv. Marc. 4.28.8), Hannah
(Adv. Marc. 4.14.6), David (Adv. Marc. 5.9.8), Isaiah (De idol. 14; De or. 2;
only inspires the biblical authors in general (Apol. 20.4), but the Spirit’s
role is one of prophetic utterance in particular. Through the prophets of
old, the Spirit “foretells” the future (Adv. Iud. 5.4; 9.23; 10.19; cf. Adv.
Marc. 4.22.12; 5.11.12). The Spirit’s work, however, is not restricted to
the old prophets, but continues in “new prophets.”
The New Testament, which is “new” because of the Spirit giving
newness of life through it (Adv. Marc. 5.10.4, referencing 2 Cor 3:6),
is in harmony with the “Prophetic Spirit” (Spiritus…propheticus,
Adv. Marc. 4.40.6) heard in the Old Testament. One can hear the Spirit
teaching in “both the Old and the New Prophets (veteres ac novae
prophetiae)” (Adv. Marc. 5.16.4), that is, those of the Old Testament and
those of the New Testament.
The transition to the “New Prophets” occurs in the ministry of John
the Baptist. Tertullian insists that prophecy ceased with John (Adv. Iud.
8:13–15, referencing Matt 11:13/Luke 16:16). This, however, is
explicitly said to be in reference to prophecies about “Christ to come,”
and the statement is a polemic “against the Jews.” John himself had
clearly lost the “Spirit of prophecy” (spiritus prophetiae), for “the Spirit
had relocated to the Lord” (spiritus in dominum translationem, De bapt.
10.5). The evidence John had lost the prophetic gift is found in the scene
where the arrested Baptizer had to inquire if Jesus was the expected one
(noting Matt 9:2–6/Luke 7:18–23). In this sense, the Spirit of prophecy
had not ceased, but only passed from the forerunner, who typi¿es all
Jewish prophecy, to Christ, who typi¿es all Christian prophecy (De or.
1).51 Tertullian expressly states his belief in Spirit-inspired prophecy
continuing to occur after John. In fact, the aforementioned “voice of the
Spirit” heard in Old Testament Scriptures is “the same voice” heard in
Paul’s and Peter’s instruction on discipline (De or. 20, referencing 1 Cor
11:3–16 and 1 Pet 3:1–6; cf. De or. 22).
In two senses the Spirit’s voice in Scripture continues to speak to
Tertullian’s audience. First, through the past instruction of the prophets,
the Spirit presently speaks to the churches. The Spirit, who spoke through
the ancient prophets, does so “for our instruction” (Adv. Herm. 22.1–2;
cf. 1 Cor 9:10). The same can be said of the New (Testament) prophets,
whose teachings apply proleptically to Tertullian’s contemporaries.52
Adv. Marc. 4.40.6), Ezekiel (De carn. Chris. 23.6), Daniel (De iei. 9.2), Elizabeth
(De carn. Chris. 21.4), and Simeon (De mon. 8.3).
51. Even Cornelius receives the gift of prophecy “in the Spirit” (De iei. 8.4,
referencing Matt 6:16–18/Mark 9:29).
52. For Paul, see De pat. 6.5–6, referencing Gal 1:8; and De pat. 7.5, referencing
1 Tim 6:10; Adv. Val. 3.4, referencing 1 Tim 1:4; and De virg vel. 4.5, referencing
Conversely, to interpret the Scriptures rightly the reader needs the

Spirit’s guidance. Just as Joseph was enabled by “spiritual power” (vim
spiritus) to interpret dreams (Ad nat. 2.8.12, referencing Gen 40–41) and
just as Christians must see the “spiritual interpretation” when reading the
Old Testament in order to understand its reference to Christ (Adv. Iud.
7.6; 9.19; 10.9), so even in their own context Christians can recognize
Christ’s body in the bread through a “spiritual” interpretation (De or. 6;
cf. 1 Cor 10–11).53 Tertullian’s spiritual hermeneutic extends beyond
Scripture so that the ongoing prophecies of the Spirit in Tertullian’s day
can be distinguished from evil spirits by the fact that the prophet teaches
the same as that taught by the Spirit in Scripture (De iei. 4–5), just as the
apostolic writers agreed with each other in the “tranquility of the Holy
Spirit” (aequalitatem Spiritus sancti, De pud. 19.4). In other words,
Tertullian claims the ongoing prophecies in the church are performances
of the same prophecies found in the church’s script. In this light, the
second way the Spirit continues to speak is not different in content, but it
is simply a different theatre.
The second way the Spirit continues to speak to the church of
Tertullian’s day is through ongoing prophecy. Tertullian suggests the
Pentecostal gift was poured out upon all “disciples” who pray (De or.
25; De iei. 10.3). Yet, he commonly references the way the martyrs in
particular have the prophetic gift so they should not “grieve the Spirit”
(Ad mart. 1, referencing Eph 4:30; cf. Ad mart. 2–3). The Spirit guides
believers to martyrdom (De prae. haer. 8.4; 9.3; De fug. 9.4), which for
Tertullian still carries the primary meaning of witness, the content of
which will be given to the martyr by the Spirit (De prae. haer. 11.3,
referencing Matt 10:19/Luke12:12; De fug. 14.3, referencing John 16:13
and Matt 10:19/Luke 12:12). Paul stands as the exemplar of a Spirit-
¿lled martyr, one whose witness even before death allowed him to
experience the spiritual realm (De prae. haer. 12.1, referencing 2 Cor
12:2).54 The “prophesies which are of the Holy Spirit” are so linked to
“martyrdom” (martyria) that to reject the one is to reject the other
1 Cor 11:5–16. For Barnabas, see De pud. 20.3, referencing Heb 6:4. For Peter, see
De pud. 21.13, referencing Acts 2. For John, see De paen. 8.1 and Scorp. 12.6–8,
referencing Rev 2; and De an. 8.5, referencing Rev 1:10; 6:9.
53. Tertullian’s belief in the Spirit’s guidance in reading Scripture continues
throughout his so-called Montanist period. See, e.g., Adv. Marc. 1.29.4, referencing
1 Cor 7. Cf. the “allegorical interpretation” of God’s relationship to Israel (Adv.
Marc. 3.24.2–3). Moreover, it is Paul who teaches that the law must be interpreted
“spiritually” (spiritalem, Adv. Marc. 5.13.15, referencing Rom 7:14).
54. Cf. John in De an. 8.5; 53.3, referencing Rev 1:10; 6:9.
(De cor. 1.4).55 In other words, all true Christians are expected to live a
life of dying-to-self, as “the apostle” teaches, in anticipation of the
ultimate “crown” (Ad mart. 3, referencing 1 Cor 9:25). Dying-to-self
daily, or “discipline,” represents another form of martyrdom, a living
sacri¿ce through which the Spirit speaks.
Those familiar with Tertullian’s works will recognize “discipline” as a
common theme, especially in his so-called Montanist works. The
concept, however, is not restricted to his Montanist period, for it appears
even in Ad martyras (cited above), one of his earliest works. Throughout
his writings, there is a connection in Tertullian’s theology between
discipline and martyrdom. Just as the martyrs are especially guided by
the Spirit so the disciplined Christians are seen by Tertullian as the most
Spirit-led. Even in his pre-“Montanist” works, the same “spiritual inter-
pretation” (De or. 6.2; cf. 1 Cor 10–11) that enables the right reading of
Scripture (mentioned above) enables “spiritual discipline” (spiritalis
disciplinae) (De or. 6.3). To be “disciplined” in the virtues such as
patience is, indeed, to have “the whole power of the Holy Spirit” (totis
viribus sancti spiritus) (De pat. 12.8).56 Moreover, to “be led by the Holy
Spirit” (traduce spiritus sancti) is to practice the “discipline of going to
meet persecution” (persecutionis obeundae disciplina) (Scorp. 9.3). The
connection between martyrdom, prophecy, and discipline continues into
Tertullian’s later works.
Against Marcion, Tertullian sees proof of “the inspiration” (conspi-
rantia) of both Old and New Testaments in that they teach the same
regula and the same disciplina of the Spirit, a point he credits to “the
apostle [Paul]” (Adv. Marc. 5.8.12).57 Likewise, in order to show that the
scriptural injunction to be “holy as God is holy” applies to his current
audience, Tertullian argues that believers must still “walk worthily”
(cf. Eph 6:1; Col 1:10; 1 Thess 2:12) in the “discipline” (De exh. cast.
10.4) once taught by “the apostle” (De exh. cast. 10.5, referencing Rom
8:5–6) and still taught by the “Holy Spirit” (De exh. cast. 10.6).58 The
55. This passage is the only place in De corona militis that merits the label
“Montanist.” Yet even this text is not wholly convincing, given the same motif in his
earlier works (cited here). Instead of crediting “New Prophets,” Tertullian invokes
Paul as teaching that the Spirit will reveal anything the believer requests (De cor.
4.6; Phil 3:15).
56. Tertullian then proceeds to exposit 1 Cor 13 in this passage (De pat. 12.9–10).
57. The opposite is said of heretics: they reject disciplina and thereby are false
teachers in regard to the godhead (Adv. Marc. 5.12.6–7, referencing 2 Cor 11:13).
58. Tertullian here also quotes “Prisca” (= the Phrygian prophetess Priscilla),
about how those who are “carnal” (carnis) do not practice “holiness.” This one
cryptic saying, however, is the only statement in the whole work that earns it the
“discipline” in these passages is contrasted to “life” in the Àesh, which is

actually death, for “death” of the Àesh is in fact eternal life.
In another work where Tertullian discusses the “discipline” (De virg.
vel. 1.5–6) expected of a Christian, he again explains the Holy Spirit’s
role in terms of revelation and discipline, for the “Paraclete arranges
discipline, reveals scripture, renews the mind, and advances you to the
better (meliora)’ ” (De virg. vel. 1.5, referencing John 16:13; cf. 1 Cor
7:9, 38).59 Similarly, in his late works on discipline, Tertullian cites Paul
regarding the war of the Àesh against the spirit (De mon. 1.5, referencing
Gal 5:17).60 He then counters the digamists by reminding them of the
following:
1. The Paraclete’s role is to lead into “discipline” (De mon. 2.1–2,
referencing John 16:13; cf. De mon. 3.10); and
2. This discipline is in line with “catholic tradition” (catholicam
traditionem, De mon. 2.1; cf. 1 Cor 11:2; 2 Thess 2:15).
The resolution of any apparent tension between these two points is found
in Paul’s dialectic of what is permissible and bene¿cial (De mon. 3,
referencing 1 Cor 7:6–40).
In his later works, Tertullian attacks those who do not keep up the
discipline of the faith (De iei. 1.2 and passim), especially those who are
“the most laxist in discipline (laxissimae disciplinae) and forsake the
Spirit” (De iei. 17.1). As opposed to people like Praxeas’s bishop in
Rome (De pud. 1.6) who promotes such laxity, Tertullian’s church
in Carthage excommunicates those who “dishonor the Paraclete by
unregulated discipline (disciplinae enormitate)” (De pud. 1.20). The
label of “Montanist.” It seems Tertullian simply believes that Christians (be they
Phrygian or not) who follow the discipline taught by Paul can be trusted as being
led by the Spirit, as Paul taught. To credit this understanding of “discipline” to
Montanism, when Tertullian ¿rst cites Paul and has already forwarded the same
view in his earlier works, is unfounded.
59. This passage also is the only one that merits the label “Montanist.” Contra
Barnes, Tertullian, 44 n. 12, who claims Tertullian is referring to a Montanist
woman who was visited by an angel in 17.3. Such a reading imposes on the text
more than Tertullian claims, for nothing in the passage indicates that Tertullian is
speaking of “us” (Montanists) against “you” (Catholics). Nevertheless, aside from
whatever one makes of Tertullian’s “Montanism” in this text, to attribute the view
cited here as “Montanist,” fails to recognize that Tertullian already held to this belief
in his earlier writings.
60. Does Tertullian also have in mind Paul’s statement regarding how one must
“crucify the Àesh” (Gal 5:24)? If so, this would further establish Tertullian’s view of
discipline as martyrdom-training (cf. De spect. 1.5).
discipline practiced by Tertullian’s church is “new” because it stems

from the New “Testament,” initiated in Christ’s passion and by “the
Holy Spirit representing himself (repraesentatum ipsius) from heaven as
the determiner of discipline” (De pud. 11.3; cf. 12.1–2).61 The rationale
for this strict discipline of the New Testament is attributed to Paul’s
teachings on the death of the Àesh and the “law of the Spirit,” which is
one of “discipline” (De pud. 17.10–11, referencing Rom 7:18; 2 Cor 3:6;
Rom 8:2–5). “Discipline” is merely a summary of the “Spirit of God’s”
message, which is to avoid the “works of darkness” (De pud. 21.1,
referencing Eph 5:11). Finally, Tertullian contests the notion that martyrs
have the power to forgive mortal sins (De pud. 22) and asks that if these
martyrs are truly led by the Spirit they prove themselves by prophesying
in accordance with Scripture (De pud. 22.6). It is not martyrdom itself in
view here, but pseudo-martyrdom, unwillingness to die to self as led by
the voice of the Spirit.
Tertullian’s understanding of the Spirit’s ongoing role in utterance
applies to every true believer. The use of the term “Paraclete” has
already been discussed as language adopted from John’s Gospel. When
Tertullian translates and not simply transliterates this term, he under-
stands it to mean “advocate” (advocatum, Adv. Prax. 9.3, referencing
John 14:16), and when he does so he hears the same concept used by
Paul, for Tertullian’s opponents should “acknowledge the Paraclete as an
advocate (advocatum) who ‘pleads for your in¿rmities’ ” (De mon. 3.10,
referencing Rom 8:26). Therefore, it is by assisting the believer in
discipline that the Holy Spirit issues ongoing utterances in the church.
The Spirit is so intrinsically tied to divine utterance and self-revelation
that whether Christ speaks to the Father or of the Father, he does so “in
the Spirit” (Adv. Prax. 13.7; 26.8). The Spirit’s function of speaking
unspeakable words to God from within the believer ¿ts neatly into
Tertullian’s theology, as known in his early works. When God would
speak to the believer, the Spirit again must be the inspirer of the utter-
ances, for, quoting Paul, he asks, “Who knows the things of God if not
God himself? And who is God himself, if not the Spirit in God?” (Adv.
Herm. 18.1, referencing 1 Cor 2:11). In this way any divine utterance
(from God or to God) is of the Spirit. Conversely, any Godlike utterance
must be of the Spirit. For example, “every writing (scripturam) useful
61. The “New Prophets” (De pud. 21.7) are not the Phrygian prophets, who are
nowhere named or referenced in this text (contra Barnes, Tertullian, 44), but the
Christian prophets from the New Testament (De pud. 12.1), such as Peter (De pud.
21.9). They stand in contrast only with the “old prophets” of the Old Testament
(De pud. 6.2; 7.9, 18; 10.4; 21.5).
for edi¿cation is divinely inspired (divinitus inspirari)” (De cul. fem.

1.3.3, referencing 2 Tim 3:16—note the reversal of the original order!).
In the same way, Tertullian believes “all creatures pray,” including all
livestock, when “the Spirit/breath (spiritum)” comes out of their mouth
(De or. 29; cf. Rom 8:22–26). Therefore, everyone who “has the Spirit of
God” may communicate with God and receive communication from
God, as “the apostle says, ‘If you do not know something, God will
reveal it to you” (De cor. 4.6, referencing Phil 3:15).62
Conclusion: To Be (Pauline) or Not to Be (Montanist)?

I began this essay with a confession; I must end it with an apology. The
ghost of Montanus, which still haunts Tertullian studies, has repeatedly
played a part in this discussion. My apology is to those less familiar with
the Montanism theory, who may read this essay and wonder why so
much energy has been devoted to it. Someone could very well repeat
Gertrude’s question to Hamlet:
Alas, how is’t with you,
That you do bend your eye on vacancy
And with the incorporal air do hold discourse? (Act 3, Scene 4)
In other words, why not ignore the ghost of Montanus as a myth of the
past and simply compare Tertullian and Paul? For better or for worse,
such a morbid dialogue is still necessary in light of the ongoing
temptation to attribute any one of Tertullian’s ideas to “Montanism.” On
the one hand, the constant asides directed against the Montanism theory
have served as a ground-clearing exercise that enables a closer examina-
tion of Tertullian’s texts by underscoring his own stated claims to
Pauline thinking. On the other hand, this claim to Pauline pneumatology
set within a polemic against the Montanism theory risks overstating
Tertullian’s “Paulinism.” Therefore, a ¿nal word is in order regarding
what has been accomplished in this present study.
Tertullian need not be proved “not Montanist” in order for his work to
be read as “Pauline.” Tertullian could have easily been both Montanist
and Pauline. Few, however, have explored how Tertullian is indebted to
the latter, perhaps because of an assumption he belonged to the former.
While I have no problem believing Tertullian could have amalgamated
62. Similarly, Tertullian argues that every believer has the Spirit, but apostles
were known to have the Spirit “fully” because they had the gift of prophecy, which
explains why Paul had to stipulate, “I, too, have the Spirit of God” (De exh. cast.
4.4–6, referencing 1 Cor 7:40).
both Montanus and Paul, I remain unconvinced that he did. I see no

evidence that the Phrygians informed his pneumatology in any signi-
¿cant way, especially when compared to Tertullian’s extensive and
explicit use of “the apostle.”
In a recent essay on the reception of New Testament writers in the
Apostolic Fathers, Thomas G. Weinandy argues that Ignatius of Antioch
faithfully retained a New Testament Christology and simultaneously
anticipated the Chalcedonian De¿nition.63 To be clear, I have not
attempted to make such a claim for Tertullian in this present essay.
Whether or not Tertullian “is Pauline” in a critical sense, whether he has
accurately and adequately accommodated Paul, and whether or not he
anticipated the councils has been left for others to decide. I have, how-
ever, repeatedly referred to Tertullian’s writings as “Pauline,” and at
times even remarked on the “Chalcedonian” nature of his theology.
By arguing against the Montanism theory, I have been able to
underscore Tertullian’s own claims to Paul when speaking about the
Spirit. I have also noted the points when Tertullian’s theology most
clearly sounds post-Pauline and aligns with later “orthodoxy” (as de¿ned
by the councils from 325–451). In doing so, I have provided an analysis
of Tertullian’s pneumatology in light of the Pauline texts he cites as
support. While I suspect that Tertullian’s understanding of substantia
and persona in regard to the Spirit of God would sound foreign to Paul,
I equally suspect that Tertullian’s insistence on the Spirit’s role in
prophecy would sound antiquated to the later council fathers. I leave this
type of comparative analysis as an open question. It is hoped that this
current textual analysis will prove helpful for such future studies.
The etymological and philological analysis of the term spiritus that
has been offered here apart from any notion of a shift in Tertullian’s
thinking has resulted in the following conclusion: Tertullian’s imper-
sonal and personal uses of this term can in fact be distinguished in most
instances, but the two usages nevertheless are not entirely separable. The
distinction especially becomes salient in Tertullian’s Christology, for the
Son is of the same spiritual substance of the Father, but is not the same
person as the “other Paraclete.” If Christology distinguishes the personal
and impersonal uses of the term spiritus, Tertullian’s pneumatology
mystically unites them, for the impersonal substance animates and the
Spirit himself uni¿es the other persons (be they the Father and the Son or
63. Thomas G. Weinandy, “The Apostolic Christology of Ignatius of Antioch:

The Road to Chalcedon,” in Trajectories through the New Testament and the
Apostolic Fathers (ed. Andrew Gregory and Christopher Tuckett; Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2006), 71–84.
the Son and the believers) substantially. This mystical union exists
because the impersonal substance of the Spirit is by and large a question
of ontology for Tertullian (and Paul?), whereas the role of the Spirit is
largely a matter of epistemology. Tertullian (and Paul?) cannot address
one without assuming the other, for he can only know the Son who is the
substance of the Father “in the Spirit,” and he can only profess this Truth
by the Spirit of Prophecy.
TERTULLIAN AND PAUL ON THE SPIRIT OF PROPHECY
James D. G. Dunn
I approach David Wilhite’s essay on “Tertullian’s Pauline Pneumatol-

ogy” with great respect and some hesitancy, since, though my familiarity
with Paul is quite extensive, I can certainly not say the same of my
familiarity with Tertullian. So, I have to depend principally on Wilhite’s
treatment of the theme to ¿ll me in on the Tertullian side of the com-
parison, and I will have to compare Paul chieÀy with the Tertullian that
Wilhite provides, which, of course, may be far from unsatisfactory.
It is obvious that Tertullian knew the Pauline letters well; the hundreds
of references to these letters in his many writings, even as indicated in
the indices of the Ante-Nicene Fathers, vols. 3 and 4, put the issue
beyond doubt, even though he seems not to have used Paul as much as
one might have expected.1 Nevertheless, on pneumatology the issue is
clear: Tertullian drew heavily on Paul for the instruction he himself gave,
though whether his pneumatology is as “thoroughly Pauline” as Wilhite
maintains is not quite so clear.
It is not for me to consider the question of “Tertullian’s Montanism,”
even though “the ghost of Montanus” “haunts” the pages of Wilhite’s
essay. But the parallel between Paul’s dealings with the charismatic
Corinthians and Tertullian’s engagement with Montanism is immediately
striking. Considering ¿rst the title topic of Wilhite’s essay, one of the
most interesting features of any comparison between Tertullian and Paul
is that both were familiar with prophetic speech, with “praying in the
s/Spirit.”2 Should we assume, however, in both cases that it was ecstatic
speech which was in view? Tertullian seems to assume so (Adv. Marc.
5.8). But Paul makes a distinction between speaking in tongues, where
1. Andrew M. Bain, “Tertullian: Paul as Teacher of the Gentile Churches,” in

Paul and the Second Century (ed. M. F. Bird and J. R. Dodson; LNTS 412; London:
T&T Clark International, 2011), 207–25.
2. 1 Cor 14:15; Tertullian, De or. 28.
J. D. G. DUNN Tertullian and Paul on the Spirit of Prophecy 73
the mind is unfruitful, and prophecy, where the mind is fruitful and pre-
sumably engaged (1 Cor 14:6–25). Paul also indicates that the prophet,
even when inspired, retains some control of what he/she says (14:32).
As Wilhite notes, Tertullian’s concern that prophecy should be tested,
even if using the langue of 1 John 4:1, was as much if not more depend-
ent on Paul’s similar emphasis on the need to “discern,” “evaluate,” and
“test” the s/Spirit of prophecy.3 This was a familiar problem in the
history of prophecy, in Israel as in the early church: since prophecy gave
rise also to false prophecy, it was generally recognized that all prophecy
had to be tested and evaluated, and the s/Spirit inspiring the prophecy
“discerned.”4 That Tertullian displays the same concerns indicates that
his experience of prophecy was much of a piece with the earlier Christian
experience of prophecy. His reference to “the same regula and the same
disciplina” as the proof of inspiration can be seen as an updating of
Paul’s own criteria by which prophetic utterances should be evaluated.5
And given the similarity of the encounters or engagement with inspired
speech which Paul and Tertullian shared, it is hardly surprising that he
drew on Paul’s counsel on the greater value of prophecy over glosso-
lalia—“Be mature in your thinking/understanding.”6
One other point Wilhite could have made clearer is Tertullian’s
dependency on Paul’s advice on “spiritual gifts.” This is where he links
“Tertullian’s description of the women’s prophecy wherein she talks to
angels and converses with the Lord,” and the prophetess as hearing
“mysteries,” to Paul’s experience of a heavenly journey in which he
hears “unspeakable words” (2 Cor 12:4). But he could equally or more
relevantly have referred to 1 Cor 14:2, where Paul envisages the tongues-
speaker as speaking to God and speaking “mysteries”—presumably “the
tongues/languages of angels” referred to in 1 Cor 13:2.
I am intrigued by the issue of “personal” or “impersonal spirit,” since
it goes so far back into the roots of Israel’s attempts to speak of, and thus
conceptualize, “spirit.” As Tertullian was no doubt well aware, ruach
and pneuma had the same range of meaning—“wind, breath, spirit.” In
this case, any dependency that Tertullian had was on John’s Gospel,
where the imagery of spirit/wind/breath is played on in John 3:8 and
20:22. Paul does not make use of that imagery: his use of Gen 2:7 in
3. 1 Cor 12:10; 14:29; 1 Thess 5:21.

4. See R. W. L. Moberly, Prophecy and Discernment (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2006).
5. See my Jesus and the Spirit (London: SCM, 1975; repr.; Grand Rapids: Eerd-
mans, 1997), 293–97.
6. 1 Cor 14:20; Tertullian, Adv. Val. 2.
1 Cor 15:45 makes no allusion to the breath of God; nor does Tertullian
in his use of 1 Cor 15:45. Rather, Paul’s preference seems to be for the
equally Old Testament-based imagery of water (1 Cor 12:13), of which
John also made signi¿cant use (particularly John 7:37–39). Such imagery,
of course, encourages the currently popular view that Paul conceived of
the Spirit in material terms, as a material substance.7 What is less clear,
however, is whether such imagery implies the absence of personality.
Or is it rather the case that to take such a metaphor in a literal way (the
Spirit envisaged as a liquid or as a wind) is to misunderstand the char-
acter of a metaphor (that is, precisely as not to be taken literally). A large
part of the problem here, for commentators of the twenty-¿rst century (as
Wilhite appreciates), is that our idea of the “person” and the “personal”
is so different from that of the ancients, including Paul and Tertullian. In
a world that could conceive of the elements or the stars as sentient
beings, it is far from clear whether there was a conceptual boundary or
marked distinction between “personal” and “impersonal.”8
More intriguing is the question of Paul’s anthropology. Tertullian’s
spirit–Àesh antithesis was obviously inÀuenced to a great extent by
Paul’s. But in his argument for the resurrection of the Àesh, common
from the second century onwards as Christians reacted to the Gnostic
disdain for the body, Tertullian seems to miss the important distinction
which Paul makes in 1 Cor 15 between the “Àesh” and the “body.”
Tertullian argues quite effectively for the resurrection of the Àesh,
despite 1 Cor 15:50 (“Àesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of
God”).9 But he does not pay suf¿cient attention to the fairly obvious fact
that in the extended sequence of antitheses in 15:42–54, “Àesh and
blood” belong in the (negative) column along with “corruption” (15:42,
50), “dishonor” (15:43), “weakness” (15:43), “natural body” (15:44–46),
“earthly” (15:47–49), “the dead” (15:52), “corruptible” (15:53–54), and
“mortal” (15:54), set antithetically over against the (positive) column
consisting of “incorruption,” “glory,” “power,” “spiritual body,” “heav-
enly,” “incorruptible,” “incorruption,” and “immortality.”10 In that line
of argument it runs against Paul’s logic to maintain that, despite 15:50,
7. So, e.g., Friedrich Willhelm Horn, Das Angeld des Geistes: Studien zur
paulinischen Pneumatologie (FRLANT 154; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck, 1992), 175.
8. See further the critique of the pneuma-Stoff interpretation of Paul’s pneuma-
tology by Volker Rabens, The Holy Spirit and Ethics in Paul (WUNT 2/283;
Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), who argues that Paul understood the ethical work
of the Spirit in relational terms.
9. De res. carn. 48–49.
10. See further my Beginning from Jerusalem (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009),
827–30.
Paul looked for the resurrection of the Àesh as Àesh or that he understood
the “spiritual body” as Àeshly.11 The neatness of Paul’s solution to the
question, “With what kind of body do (the resurrected) come?” (15:35),
is the distinction he makes between “body” and “Àesh.” By maintaining
belief in a resurrection body he retained the Hebrew understanding of
material creation as made by God and good, while, at the same time, he
in effect diverted the more typically Hellenistic antipathy to the material
into his own warnings, we might even say antipathy, to the Àesh. To
ignore and lose that distinction is to miss the subtlety of Paul’s treatment
of the resurrection and to lose its potential for response to the Gnostics.
The intriguing feature here are the distinctions Paul seems to work
with in order to make his points. “Flesh” and “body” I have already
noted. It is important for interpretation of Paul that “body” is not con-
fused with “Àesh” or simply identi¿ed as “Àesh.” The two overlap, it is
true, but the vehemence of Paul’s antithesis between “Spirit” and “Àesh”
is only rarely expressed in terms of “Spirit” and “body” (Rom 8:13). And
in 1 Cor 15 “spiritual body” is the great hope that he sets over against
both “natural body” and “Àesh and blood.”
This highlights the further distinction that Paul was prepared to make
in his anthropology—between “spirit” and “soul,” pneuma and psyche.
The distinction between “spiritual body” and “natural body” is more
accurately between sǀma pneumatikon and sǀma psychikon. This despite
the fact that Gen 2:7 speaks of the breath (ruach) of God making man a
“living nephesh/psyche.” In the ancient anthropology on which Paul
drew, it was the ruach of God which became the breath of life in animate
creation.12 The problem with linking Hebrew anthropology with Helle-
nistic anthropology is that the former was more tripartite, the latter more
dualistic—body, mind, and spirit, as against body and mind. When “soul”
came into play, the issue became still more complex, since not only spirit
provided a bridge between the divine and the human, but also soul and
mind. For his part, Paul was clear that the mind could be/had been
11. Pace Robert H. Gundry, SOMA in Biblical Theology with Emphasis on Paul-
ine Anthropology (SNTSMS 29; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976).
12. Gen 6:17; Job 33:4; Ps 104:29–30. Since ruach could be used of non-human
creation (“the breath of life”—Gen 6:17), the relation of “spirit” to “personal” and
“impersonal” becomes even more confused. Was Tertullian, then, justi¿ed in
pressing for a clear distinction between afÀatus and spiritus (Adv. Marc. 2.9)? The
dif¿culty of determining in some passages whether Paul means (human) spirit or
(divine) Spirit is well known; see, e.g., Gordon D. Fee, God’s Empowering
Presence: The Holy Spirit in the Letters of Paul (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson,
1994), 24–26, who renders pneuma in several places (e.g., 1 Cor 14:15) as “S/spirit.”
See further John R. Levison, Filled with the Spirit (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009).
“darkened” and “disquali¿ed” (Rom 1:21, 28). And in 1 Cor 15:44–46

he clearly sets the psyche in the negative column over against the
pneuma—human life over against divine life.
Paul’s anthropology, then, was more re¿ned than that of most of his
contemporaries. The key concepts seem to move along a kind of spec-
trum or continuum, with pairs which overlap but retain distinct functions,
and which function differently in the process of salvation—Àesh and
body, mind and heart, soul and spirit.13 Tertullian certainly reÀects on
such distinctions (De an. 10–12), though I am far from certain that he
appreciated the re¿nement of Paul’s anthropology.
I was intrigued, too, by Wilhite’s demonstration of Tertullian’s
readiness to use a Spirit-christology or binitarian language, though
surprised at its extent. The issue is intriguing, since within Paul one
might well say that a Spirit-christology would seem to be as logical as a
Wisdom-christology. If it is the case that in the theology of Israel and
early Judaism, Spirit of God and Wisdom of God were different ways of
speaking of the immanence and operation of God within and upon his
creation, then in an incarnational christology Christ could readily be said
to have absorbed both functions, Spirit as well as Wisdom. And most
commentators accept that Paul did use a Wisdom christology, at least to
the extent of using Wisdom language of Christ (1 Cor 8:6; Col 1:15–
17).14 If Spirit was a variant way of speaking of the same immanence of
God, then does it not follow that Paul would have understood Christ to
be the incarnation of the Spirit as much as the embodiment of God’s
Wisdom?
In fact, however, Paul seems to identify Christ with the Spirit only in
one passage—once again, 1 Cor 15:45: “the ¿rst man Adam became
a living psyche; the last Adam became life-giving pneuma.” I have
included this passage above in referring to Paul’s distinction between
pneuma and psyche. But by the pneuma here Paul must have meant the
Spirit of God. The key term is “life-giving.” That is a divine action; for
Paul only God or God’s Spirit could be described as “life-giver.”15 Paul
would not have spoken of a “life-giving pneuma” unless he meant the
“life-giving Spirit (of God).” So here we can speak of a Spirit-christol-
ogy: that as Christ absorbed the functions of Wisdom, so he absorbed the
function of the Spirit. To that extent Tertullian was justi¿ed in his use of
what Wilhite refers to as “binitarian” language.
13. See further my The Theology of Paul the Apostle (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans;
Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1998), §3.
14. See again my Theology of Paul, §11.1–2.
15. Rom 4:17; 8:11; 1 Cor 15:22, 45; 2 Cor 3:6.
But there is another important distinction here, if we are to appreciate

the subtlety of Paul’s christology. Notably, in 1 Cor 15:45 the last Adam
is the risen Christ; the last Adam is the pattern or archetype of resur-
rected humanity. First Corinthians 15:45 envisages two “becomings,” the
second implied by the parallelism between the quotation from Gen 2:7
(“the ¿rst man Adam became a living psyche”) and Paul’s elaboration
(“the last Adam became life-giving pneuma”). For Paul, Christ only
“became” life-giving Spirit with his resurrection. In contrast, Wisdom is
very much a pre-resurrection identi¿cation with Christ—we might say a
primordial identi¿cation since the talk is of creation (1 Cor 8:6; Col
1:15–17). So, strictly speaking, it is not the incarnate Christ who is iden-
ti¿ed with Spirit, but only the resurrected Christ—which also means that
while we can speak of Christ in Paul as the incarnated Wisdom (though
Paul himself never quite puts it so), we should not speak of Christ as the
incarnated Spirit.
Once again Paul’s theologizing about Christ and the Spirit is more
nuanced than is often appreciated. In particular, he also identi¿es the
Spirit as the Spirit of Christ.16 This is not because he thought of the risen
Christ as the one who gave the Spirit; in Paul’s language only God is
described as the one who gives the Spirit.17 The explanation must be
rather that the Spirit so inspired Jesus that the character of Jesus could be
regarded as the de¿ning character of the Spirit. The Spirit, formerly a
rather impersonal way of speaking about God’s immanence, could now
be recognized as personal, as having the personality of Christ. This is
indicated nowhere more clearly than in the way Paul speaks of the
Christians’ sense of sonship as both a sharing in Christ’s sonship and as
attested by the Spirit crying “Abba! Father!” (Rom 8:14–17; Gal 4:6–7).18
The other indication that Paul knew he was walking on sensitive
ground when speaking of the relation of Christ and the Spirit is the care
he seems to have taken to avoid saying that Christ was raised by or
through the Spirit. This also would be the logic of Christ’s resurrection
as the archetype of the resurrection of believers, since Paul regarded their
resurrection as wrought by God “through his Spirit” (Rom 8:11). But
whereas Paul could have said quite straightforwardly, “If the Spirit”
rather than the more cumbersome, “If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus
16. Rom 8:9; Gal 4:6; Phil 1:19.

17. 1 Cor 2:12; 2 Cor 1:21–22; 5:5; Gal 3:5; 4:6; 1 Thess 4:8.
18. To that extent Wilhite is justi¿ed in arguing that “Tertullian more clearly
articulates the distinct personhood of the Holy Spirit when utilizing Pauline texts”;
but Tertullian’s translation of Pauline texts into the language of “substance” is more
confusing than helpful.
from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Jesus from the dead will give
life to your mortal bodies also through the Spirit that dwells in you”
(8:11). And there may very well be similar sensitivities in other closely
related passages in Paul.19 Was this because Paul wanted to avoid seeing
the risen Jesus as subordinate to the Spirit? Who can now say?
At all events, Paul seems to have held together experience of God as
experience of Christ (“in Christ”) and/or as the experience of the Spirit,
to be recognized now as the Spirit of Christ. Christ was now part of the
experience of God. Such christology, even if all the nuances were not
appreciated, was bound to have inÀuenced Tertullian’s attempts to speak
of God in Trinitarian terms.
19. Rom 1:4; 6:4; 1 Cor 6:14; 2 Cor 13:4. See further my Christology in the
Making (2d ed.; London: SCM, 1989; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 144.
4
TERTULLIAN, PAUL, AND THE NATION OF ISRAEL
Geoffrey D. Dunn
If Jesus brought a new covenant between God and people, as his ¿rst
followers asserted, what happened to the covenant God had established
through Abraham and Moses? Had it been replaced with the new, or did
the new co-exist with the one already existing? Did one ¿rst have to be
a Jew before one could be a Jesus-follower? What happened to Jews
who were not followers of Jesus? These questions confronted the ¿rst
generation of Jesus-followers, as Peter’s encounter with the God-fearer
and Roman centurion, Cornelius,1 and Paul and Barnabas’ experience
in Antiochia Caesaria in Pisidia (next to modern Yalvaç) during the
¿rst missionary journey record (Acts 10:1–11:18; 13:13–51) illustrate.
Indeed, the author of Acts records Paul’s explanation as to why, after
preaching (rather successfully we are informed) to the Jews in the syna-
gogue one week, he was preaching to the Gentiles the next week: there
was an obligation to preach ¿rst to the Jews, but since they have rejected
it and were unworthy of eternal life, it was then the turn of the Gentiles
to hear his message (Acts 13:46). The question of whether those Gentiles
who were attracted to Jesus needed to become Jews through circumcision
(for the males) occupied discussions in Jerusalem (Acts 15:1–29), in
which Paul argued that there was no distinction between Jew and Gentile
in God’s eyes (Acts 15:9), and this was to occupy the rest of his preach-
ing ministry. While a Jesus-follower, Paul continued to consider himself
a Jew (Acts 22:3) and took pains to demonstrate to law-observant Jesus
followers that he was not encouraging them to abandon the Mosaic
covenant (Acts 21:21–26).
Paul’s epistolary output became important foundational documents of
Christianity, a record of the new covenant and part of the Scriptures.
However, the question of the place of law-observant followers of Jesus
1. See Judith M. Lieu, Neither Jew Nor Greek? Constructing Early Christianity
(London/New York: T&T Clark International, 2002), 31–68, for discussion about
who God-fearers might have been.
within Christianity persisted long after Paul, particularly as their num-

bers fell in proportion to the total number of Christians. As Christianity
became more and more distinct from Judaism, which at this time was
developing its own post-temple characteristics, the question for Chris-
tians became more about the ongoing relevance of the Mosaic covenant.
The concern was no longer about Jews within Christianity or Christianity
within Judaism, but about the co-existence of two religions. Christian
writing of these ¿rst several centuries after the death of Jesus generally
denied an ongoing legitimacy to Judaism.2
In Carthage during the time of the Severan dynasty at the end of the
second and beginning of the third centuries, issues about the ongoing
place of the Jews in God’s plan of salvation remained. One of the most
dynamic, creative, and gifted, yet divisive, controversial, and strident
early Christian writers, Tertullian, who lived in Carthage, turned his
attention frequently in his literary output to these questions about the
Jews. The present study examines the ways in which Tertullian made use
of Paul in constructing his arguments. One of the signi¿cant contributing
factors that differentiated Paul from Tertullian on the question of the fate
of the Jewish faith and the people of Israel was the destruction of the
Second Temple under Titus in 70. Paul wrote before that cataclysmic
event and Tertullian after it. Another point of difference was that Paul
wrote as a Christianized Jew while Tertullian wrote as a converted pagan.
It will be demonstrated that while Tertullian could cite Pauline
passages about the relationship between Christian Jews and Christian
Gentiles, most often he divorced the text from the historical context.
Tertullian would employ Paul’s harsher appearing comments and almost
2. Whether we should call this Christian attitude anti-Judaism or anti-Semitism is

not a question that needs to be resolved here. I would tend to use the ¿rst term to
deal with theological debate and the second to deal with racial or ethnic vili¿cation.
This would follow Marcel Simon, “Verus Israel”: A Study of the Relations between
Christians and Jews in the Roman Empire (AD 135–425) (trans. H. McKeating;
2d Eng. ed.; London: Valentine Mitchell, 1996), 397–98; and Craig A. Evans, “Faith
and Polemic: The New Testament and First-Century Judaism,” in Anti-Semitism and
Early Christianity: Issues of Polemic and Faith (ed. Craig A. Evans and Donald A.
Hagner; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), 1–17 (1). Thus, I would not use them the
same way as John G. Gager, The Origins of Anti-Semitism: Attitudes Toward
Judaism in Pagan and Christian Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985),
8, who describes the ¿rst as coming from an internal dispute and the second from an
external hostility. Of course, the other question is the degree to which theological
anti-Judaism leads to racial anti-Semitism. Some, like Rosemary Radford Ruether,
Faith and Fratricide: The Theological Roots of Anti-Semitism (New York: Seabury,
1974), 3, and Gavin Langmuir, “Anti-Judaism as the Necessary Preparation for Anti-
Semitism,” Viator 2 (1971), 383–89, argue that inevitably it does.
G. D. DUNN Tertullian, Paul, and the Nation of Israel 81
completely neglect what appears to be the more moderate comments in

Romans. We may note a distinction between explicit use of Paul in
Tertullian, which will be the focus here, where Tertullian cites a passage
from a Pauline (or deutero-Pauline) letter, and implicit use, where
Tertullian comments on a passage from the Hebrew Scriptures, which
might have been suggested to him by Paul also having commented on the
same passage. Taking the latter fully into account would make the
present study extremely lengthy and so cannot be pursued here. What we
shall consider are some relevant passages of Paul and what explicit use
Tertullian made of them.
Paul on the Jews

How Paul portrays the enduring relevance of the Mosaic Law for
followers of Jesus is an enormous and not uncomplicated topic in itself,
and one that has been the subject of numerous studies.3 Paul has many
comments to make about Jews who accept Jesus and Jews who do not.
My purpose here is not to advance any discussion on this topic, but
merely to outline Paul’s various positions throughout his letters4 in order
to provide reference points to see how much of that would later inÀuence
Tertullian.5
The law remained a source of authority for Paul. In writing to the
Corinthians defending his apostolic credentials and his right to be
supported by a community he had established, even though he refused to
impose himself upon them, Paul turned to the Mosaic Law (Deut 25:4)
about the unmuzzled ploughing ox as the ultimate defence (1 Cor 9:8).
He insisted on his Jewish identity (2 Cor 11:22; Phil 3:5). Yet, he could
also refer to it as the old covenant (that has passed away, in contrast with
3. See, for example, Lloyd Gaston, “Paul and the Torah,” in Antisemitism and the
Foundations of Christianity (ed. Alan T. Davies; New York: Paulist, 1979), 48–71;
R. David Kaylor, Paul’s Covenant Community: Jew and Gentile in Romans (Atlanta:
John Knox, 1988); Peter J. Tomson, Paul and the Jewish Law: Halakha in the
Letters of the Apostle to the Gentiles (CRINT 3; JTECL 1; Assen: Van Gorcum,
1990); Graham Harvey, The True Israel: Uses of the Names Jews, Hebrews and
Israel in Ancient Jewish and Early Christian Literature (Leiden: Brill, 1996); and
Francis Watson, Paul, Judaism, and the Gentiles: Beyond the New Perspectives (rev.
ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007).
4. The question of Pauline authorship of letters like Ephesians, Colossians, and
Hebrews can be ignored here, since Tertullian accepted them as Pauline.
5. David Rokéah, Justin Martyr and the Jews (JCPS 5; Leiden: Brill, 2002), 43–
85, examines the ways in which Justin and Paul comment on the law and on
Abraham and the status of the Gentiles.
the enduring new covenant—2 Cor 3:11),6 and one that the Jews seem
incapable of understanding fully because they did not have Jesus (2 Cor
3:14), and he could be ambivalent: being like one bound to it for the sake
of the Jews and like one free from it for the sake of the Gentiles (1 Cor
9:20–21). On occasion he could follow the (Mosaic) Law, even though
not obliged to do so.
In his account in Galatians of the meeting in Jerusalem, Paul reported
the decision of the meeting that circumcision was not to be demanded for
Gentiles wishing to be Christians (Gal 2:3, 6), but the unity of Christians
was undermined when Peter visited Antioch and was persuaded not to
eat with Christian Gentiles but only with Christian Jews (Gal 2:11–14).7
This led Paul to articulate his law-free gospel: it is through faith in Jesus
not observance of the law that one receives the Spirit, as was the case
with Abraham (Gal 3:5–14). The law was necessary because of sin, but
was to be valid only until the coming of Jesus (Gal 3:19, 25), and now
faith in Jesus removes all distinctions, like that between Jews and Greeks
(Gal 3:28),8 but delivering from the law those who had been subject to
it (Gal 4:5). Those who follow the law are like the sons of Hagar, who
should be cast out (Gen 21:10), while the followers of Jesus are like
the sons of Sarah, who will be the favored heirs (Gal 4:22–30).9 Paul
presented this gospel to urge the Gentile Christians in Galatia not to
submit to any pressure to be circumcised,10 since by doing so they would
place themselves under the law (the implication being that it would be
impossible to ful¿ll) and would lose God’s favor (Gal 5:2–4). Whether
one is circumcised or not is of no signi¿cance, only faith counts (Gal
5:6). Yet, immediately after, as Paul gave advice about how to resist the
urges of the Àesh, he turned to the law (as Jesus did) to ¿nd the essential
element: the love of neighbour as self (Gal 5:14; Lev 19:18; Mark 12:31;
Matt 22:39).11
6. Michael J. Cook, “Ties that Blind: An Exposition of II Corinthians 3:12–4:6

and Romans 11:7–10,” in When Jews and Christians Meet (ed. J. J. Petuchowski;
Albany, N.Y.: State University of New York Press, 1988), 125–39.
7. See Jack T. Sanders, Schismatics, Sectarians, Dissidents, Deviants: The First
One Hundred Years of Jewish–Christian Relations (London: SCM, 1993), 10–17.
8. Gager, Origins of Anti-Semitism, 225–27.
9. Ibid., 241–43.
10. Michele Murray, Playing a Jewish Game: Gentile Christian Judaizing in the
First and Second Centuries CE (SCJ 13; Waterloo, Ont.: Wilfrid Laurier University
Press, 2004), 29–41, is a recent attempt to consider Judaizers not as those who were
bringing the pressure, but those who succumbed to it.
11. Luke 10:27 does not emphasize the Leviticus passage as being the summary
of the entire law.
It would seem clear that Paul’s opponents both in Antioch and in

Galatia were Christian Jews, that is, those who had been law-observant
Jews before becoming followers of Jesus. What this means is that those
Jews who did not accept Jesus as Messiah were not the object of his
comments in this letter, although their lack of faith in Jesus and their
adherence to the law made them unjusti¿ed by implication. In Hebrews
Jesus is contrasted with Moses and found to be as superior as a son is to
a servant (3:1–6), although the faith of Moses and a number of other
¿gures is held up for imitation (11:1–31, esp. vv. 24–29). The useless-
ness of the law to bring anything to perfection is asserted as the author
argues that the old priesthood has been replaced by the new priesthood of
Jesus himself, who is the guarantee of a better covenant (7:18–28) and a
better promise, since the ¿rst covenant was faulty and now obsolete
(8:6–13, using Jer 31:31–34). There is a contrast between the worship
prescribed in the old covenant (9:1–10) and that achieved by Jesus
(9:11–10:18).12
While the author of Ephesians states that Jesus abolished the law (Eph
2:15), there is a much more positive outlook here. The result of this
abolition was that inclusion of the Gentiles and the uni¿cation of two
peoples as one (Eph 2:14–16). Nothing of relevance is found in Colos-
sians, Philippians, 2 Thessalonians, or Philemon.13 In 1 Thess 2:14–16,
however, Paul complained that the Christian Gentiles of Thessalonica
had been mistreated by local non-Christians just as Christian Jews in
Judea had been by non-Christian Jews, whom he identi¿ed as the people
responsible for the death of the prophets and Jesus and for his own
persecution, who were now being punished by God.14
12. Gager, Origins of Anti-Semitism, 180–84; William Klassen, “To the Hebrews
or Against the Hebrews? Anti-Judaism and the Epistle to the Hebrews,” in Anti-
Judaism in Early Christianity. Vol. 2, Separation and Polemic (ed. Stephen G.
Wilson; SCJ 2; Waterloo, Ont.: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1986), 1–16;
Robert W. Wall and William L. Lane, “Polemic in Hebrews and the Catholic
Epistles,” in Evans and Hagner, eds., Anti-Semitism and Early Christianity, 166–98
(171–85); and Stephen G. Wilson, Related Strangers: Jews and Christians 70–170
C.E. (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995), 110–27.
13. Gager, Origins of Anti-Semitism, 177–80; and James D. G. Dunn, “Anti-
Semitism in the Deutero-Pauline Literature,” in Evans and Hagner, eds., Anti-
Semitism and Early Christianity, 151–65 (151), note that anti-Judaism is not a
feature of the deutero-Pauline literature.
14. Donald A. Hagner, “Paul’s Quarrel with Judaism,” in Evans and Hagner,
eds., Anti-Semitism and Early Christianity, 128–50 (130–36); David Luckensmeyer,
The Eschatology of First Thessalonians (NTOA/SNT 71; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck
and Ruprecht, 2009).
The most extensive comments offered by Paul occur in Romans.15 He

begins by asserting that God leads all people to salvation: the Jews ¿rst
and the Greeks second, provided they are people of faith (1:16–17; 2:10).
Those bound by the law are obliged to follow it (2:12, 17–24). Physical
circumcision counted for nothing unless there was a corresponding
observance of the law, and one who observed the law without physical
circumcision was not disadvantaged but was the real Jew (2:25–29). This
is a more sophisticated distinction than that found in Galatians. No
longer is it a physical one between Jew and Gentile but now a spiritual
one between true and false Jew.16 The advantage of being a Jew was in
being entrusted with God’s word (3:1–2), but it does not make that
person superior, since both Jew and Greek alike have sinned and no one
can ful¿ll the law (3:9, 19–20). So a new way for salvation is needed and
was provided through faith in Jesus (3:21–26). The law of works is
contrasted with the law of faith (3:27–31), especially as exempli¿ed in
Abraham (4:1–25), whose faith and justi¿cation preceded his circum-
cision.17 The death of Christ, which his followers experience through
baptism, means that they are free from the bondage of the law (7:6).
It is from ch. 9, after discussing what the new covenant brings, that
Paul considers the question of those who are not followers of Jesus and
who hold to the old covenant—the Israelites (9:4).18 Paul hoped that they
would be saved (10:1) and acknowledges that both Jew and Greek have
the same Lord (10:12), but for the Jews to be saved they would need to
hear the gospel preached and believe in it (10:14–21). The fact that many
do not believe implies their condemnation, but this does not mean that
15. See Neil Elliott, The Rhetoric of Romans: Argumentative Constraint and
Strategy and Paul’s Dialogue with Judaism (2d ed.; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007),
who highlights the importance of determining Paul’s audience for examining his
attitude towards the Jews.
16. It is on this basis of Paul seeing Christianity as a true Judaism that Hagner,
“Paul’s Quarrel with Judaism,” 129, questions the idea that Paul could have been
anti-Judaic in the full sense of that word.
17. Gager, Origins of Anti-Semitism, 214–20; and Hagner, “Paul’s Quarrel with
Judaism,” 136–41.
18. See J. A. Fisher, “Dissent Within a Religious Community: Romans 9–11,”
BTB 10 (1980): 105–10; C. E. B. Cran¿eld, “Romans 9:30–10:4,” Int 34 (1980):
70–74; D. G. Johnson, “The Structure and Meaning of Romans 11,” CBQ 46 (1984):
91–103; Gager, The Origins of Anti-Semitism, 223–25; and J. C. Beker, “The
Faithfulness of God and the Priority of Israel in Paul’s Letter to the Romans,” in
Christians Among Jews and Gentiles: Essays in Honor of Krister Stendahl on His
Sixty-¿fth Birthday (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1986), 10–16.
God has rejected Israel, even though Christ indeed is the “end” of the
law (10:4).19 A remnant has been preserved (11:2–10), and by God’s
choice of the Gentiles Paul hoped further that the Israelites would be
stirred by envy and believe (11:11–16). Paul’s metaphor for the relation-
ship between the two covenants is organic: Israel is the cultivated olive
tree, and the Gentiles are branches from a wild olive tree grafted on in
place of some branches that have been pruned (11:16–21). The new
branches still depend upon the root. Indeed, even the pruned branches
could be grafted back on later (11:23–24) so that all Israel will be saved
(11:26). In this letter, as in several others, Paul was proud to assert his
Israelite status (11:1).
One of the ongoing questions in Pauline scholarship is whether the
hardline view in Galatians or the more moderate and optimistic view in
Romans truly represents Paul’s thinking about the enduring relevance of
Judaism.20
Tertullian’s Use of Paul

These scriptural verses in the Pauline corpus provide us with the basis
for examining Tertullian’s comments about the Jews. He lived at a time
when Christianity and Judaism were now distinct religions; their ways
certainly had diverged, although they had not yet fully parted.21 Thus,
Tertullian’s comments about Judaism are not from an internal disagree-
ment but an external one.22 Tertullian had much more to say about the
Jews beyond what he read in Paul. It is appropriate to begin with that
broader picture of Tertullian on the Jews.
19. Hagner, “Paul’s Quarrel with Judaism,” 140, argues for taking telos as
“termination” rather than “goal.”
20. See S. J. Siker, Disinheriting the Jews: Abraham in Early Christian Contro-
versy (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster/John Knox, 1991); and S. G. Hall, Christian
Anti-Semitism and Paul’s Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993).
21. A “parting” of the ways seems to imply the end of any contact, while a
divergence allows, in my opinion, for a distinction in the midst of ongoing contact.
See Adam Becker and Annette Yoshiko Reed, eds., The Ways that Never Parted:
Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (TSAJ 95;
Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003).
22. Gager, Origins of Anti-Semitism, 164, argues that with Tertullian “the inten-
sity of [his] language clearly crosses the boundary between anti-Judaism and anti-
Semitism.” Evans, “Faith and Polemic,” 9, goes as far as to claim that Tertullian’s
external use of internal, prophetic criticism of Judaism was racist and bigoted.
Adversus Iudaeos
One of Tertullian’s earliest works is Adversus Iudaeos, a pamphlet
occasioned by an encounter between a proselyte Jew and a Christian and
their respective supporters, which ended in uproar and led Tertullian to
compose this work as an example of what ought to have been said on
that previous occasion and what could be used in the future at other such
meetings.23 Thus, this work is not the record of that previous dialogue,
but a blueprint for future Christian contributions to such dialogues. My
analysis of the pamphlet leads to the conclusion that Tertullian wrote the
entire text, but left it in an unrevised state, that the occasion should be
taken at face value as indicating ongoing interaction between Jews and
Christians, who by the third century were quite distinct religious groups,
and that the purpose of the pamphlet was not to convert Jews but to win
potential debates with them about the validity of Christianity and, more
importantly, about the replacement of the Jews by the Gentiles, thereby
bolstering Christian self-identity.24 It is a work that relies heavily upon
Justin’s Dialogus cum Tryphone.25
In a work designed to be used to debate with Jews about just what
God’s plan for salvation is, one would need to use evidence that both
sides would accept as valid, even though they might disagree about how
to interpret it. It is therefore not surprising that Adversus Iudaeos con-
tains almost no references to the New Testament at all.26 However, even
though nothing from Paul appears explicitly, this is not to say that
Tertullian did not make use of him. Tertullian’s arguments in his
refutatio in the early chapters about the difference between a physical
and spiritual circumcision and an old and new law employ some passages
23. Tertullian, Adv. Iud. 1.1 (CCSL 2.1339).

24. Geoffrey D. Dunn, Tertullian (The Early Church Fathers; London/New
York: Routledge, 2004), 63–68; Geoffrey D. Dunn, Tertullian’s Adversus Iudaeos:
A Rhetorical Analysis (PatrMS 19; Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of
America Press, 2008), especially 6–57.
25. The best analysis of this work remains Oskar Skarsaune, The Proof from
Prophecy: A Study in Justin Martyr’s Proof-Text Tradition. Text-type, Provenance,
Theological Pro¿le (NovTSup 56; Leiden: Brill, 1987). See also T. Stylianopoulos,
Justin Martyr and the Mosaic Law (SBLDS 20; Missoula, Mont.: Scholars Press,
1975); Harold Remus, “Justin Martyr’s Argument with Judaism,” in Wilson, ed.,
Anti-Judaism in Early Christianity, 59–80; Timothy J. Horner, Listening to Trypho:
Justin Martyr’s Dialogue Reconsidered (CBET 28; Leuven: Peeters, 2001); and
Rokéah, Justin Martyr and the Jews.
26. Geoffrey D. Dunn, “Pro temporum condicione: Jews and Christians as God’s
People in Tertullian’s Aduersus Iudaeos,” in Prayer and Spirituality in the Early
Church, vol. 2 (ed. Pauline Allen, Wendy Mayer, and Lawrence Cross; Brisbane:
Centre for Early Christian Studies, 1999), 315–41 (318–19).
from the Hebrew Scriptures also employed by Paul.27 Tertullian imitated

Paul’s arguments on a number of occasions without acknowledgment.
Yet, he was not slavish in his imitation. For example, like Paul in Rom
9:12, Tertullian made use of Gen 25:23.28 I have argued, however, that
Tertullian’s interpretation differed from Paul’s in that Paul was simply
arguing in Rom 9:6–24 that God has the free will to choose whomever
God wants, including the Gentiles. The story of Rebekah’s twins simply
shows that not all Abraham’s descendants are his children who will
inherit God’s promise (Rom 9:7). I would contend that Paul was not
interested here in the typological interpretation of the twins (and that
here he presumed the standard Jewish interpretation that the elder
referred to foreigners while the younger referred to Israel). Tertullian,
following Irenaeus,29 inverted this interpretation, making Jacob, the
younger twin, the symbol of the Christians not the Jews, who were
represented by Esau, because he was the older twin.30 Tertullian took
God’s promise to Rebekah that the younger will surpass the older and the
older will serve the younger to mean that the Christians replaced the
Jews, who had been divorced (est repudiatus) as God’s chosen people.31
The refutatio of the pamphlet seeks to demonstrate that God promised
that the old law would cease and that such a promise has been ful¿lled.
This supersessionism matches what we ¿nd in Heb 8:16–30 and even
Gal 3:19 and 4:30 in terms of the divine rejection of the covenant with
Israel, although using different scriptural passages to construct their
arguments. The Pauline remnant theology of Romans does not ¿nd a
place in this pamphlet.
Elsewhere, as David Efroymson has detected, Tertullian on many
occasions described an opponent’s position on some point of belief as
Jewish and therefore wrong, both sides of the debate accepting that what-
ever was Jewish was indeed wrong. As his initial example, Efroymson
27. Tertullian, Adv. Iud. 2.1b–3.13 (CCSL 2.1341–47).

28. Tertullian, Adv. Iud. 1.3–5 (CCSL 2.1339–40).
29. Irenaeus, Adv. haer. 4.21.2–3 (SC 100.678–84).
30. See Geoffrey D. Dunn, “Tertullian and Rebekah: A Re-reading of an ‘Anti-
Jewish’ Argument in Early Christian Literature,” VC 52 (1998): 119–45 (125). Here,
as I indicate, I disagree with scholars like Herman Tränkle, Q.S.F. Tertulliani,
“Adversus Iudaeos”: Mit Einleitung und kritischem Kommentar (Wiesbaden: Franz
Steiner, 1964), lxxv; H. Schreckenberg, Die christlichen Adversus-Iudaeos-Texte
und ihr literarisches und historisches Umfeld (1.–11. Jh) (Frankfurt am Main: Peter
Lang, 1990), 63; and R. J. Clifford, “Genesis 25:19–34,” Int 45 (1991): 397–401
(401). On pp. 126–38 of my article I also argue that Tertullian did not derive his
interpretation from Barnabas or Justin Martyr.
31. Tertullian, Adv. Iud. 1.8 (CCSL 2.1341). See also 3.
points to the way in which Tertullian labels the kind of monotheism of

Praxeus as nothing better than that of the Jews and inadequate for
Christians.32 What he is able to demonstrate are the many occasions on
which Tertullian was able to contrast the inadequacies of the Jewish
belief with their Christian ful¿llment.
Adversus Marcionem 5
We may turn our attention now to something Tertullian wrote that does
have very explicit dependence upon Paul. Tertullian’s longest work, his
¿ve-volume treatise against Marcion, centers on countering this heretic’s
gnostic-inÀuenced belief in two gods (a bad creator revealed in the Old
Testament and a good supreme god revealed by Jesus as recorded in the
New Testament), and his subsequent rejection of the Hebrew Scriptures
(and signi¿cant parts of the New Testament as well) as valid for
Christians.33 Marcion took the Pauline notion of new law to an extreme:
If the old law were replaced, why not simply remove the Hebrew
Scriptures altogether? In responding, Tertullian had to walk a tightrope:
af¿rming the validity of the Hebrew Scriptures but denying that of
Judaism. Tertullian needed to demonstrate, which he attempted in book
2, that the god of those Scriptures was not bad because he punished; such
action was necessary because the Jews were hard of heart.34 David
Efroymson has noted:
[T]he (admitted) “inferiority” of God’s “old” law and/or cult cannot be
due to any inferiority on God’s part, but must be accounted for by the
“inferiority” of the people with whom God was working at that time.
Thus, the God of the Hebrew Bible was “salvaged” for Christians pre-
cisely by means of the anti-Judaic myth.35
32. David P. Efroymson, “Tertullian’s Anti-Jewish Rhetoric: Guilt by Asso-

ciation,” USQR 36 (1980): 25–37 (25–26). See Tertullian, Adv. Prax. 31.1–2 (CCSL
2.1204).
33. See Stephen G. Wilson, “Marcion and the Jews,” in Wilson, ed., Anti-
Judaism in Early Christianity, 45–58; Wilson, Related Strangers, 207–21; Frank
Reitzenstein, ed., The First Bible: Marcion of Sinope AD 140 (Walliston: Chrestos,
2006); R. Joseph Hoffmann, Marcion: On the Restitution of Christianity. An Essay
on the Development of Radical Paulinist Theology in the Second Century (Chico,
Calif.: Scholars Press, 1984); and Bart D. Ehrman, Lost Christianities: The Battles
for Scripture and the Faiths We Never Knew (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2003), 103–9. For one criticism of Hoffmann’s redating, see Sebastian Moll, The
Arch-Heretic Marcion (WUNT 250; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 6–8.
34. Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 2.15.1–2 (CCSL 1.492).
35. David P. Efroymson, “The Patristic Connection,” in Antisemitism and the
Foundations of Christianity (ed. Alan T. Davies; New York: Paulist, 1979), 98–117
(101).
Stephen Wilson captures something of the tightrope Tertullian and other

early Christians walked in rejecting both Marcion and Judaism:
It is clear that both the Marcionite and Catholic positions involve a
denigration of Judaism. Putting it simply, it is as if the Marcionite said to
the Jew, “Keep your God, your Scriptures, your Messiah, and your law;
we consider them to be inferior, superseded in every way by the Gospel.”
The Catholic said: “We’ll take your God, your Messiah, your Scriptures,
and some of your laws; as for you, you are disinherited, cast into a limbo,
and your survival serves only as a warning of the consequences of
obdurate wickedness.36
In the third book Tertullian sought to prove that the Christ who appeared
was the same as the one expected in Old Testament prophecy, and
Marcion’s inability to see this matched that of the Jews. Book 4 posits
that the Christ in Luke’s Gospel (the only gospel Marcion accepted) was
identi¿ably the Son of the creator god, not of some second god of
Marcion, and that Jesus’ opposition to Judaism had been foretold by that
creator god. Book 5 turns to Marcion’s use of Paul. It is that last book
that we ought to consider here.
Tertullian’s thesis was that Paul proclaimed no new god other than the
creator,37 even though Paul himself did preach a new law to replace
the old law.38 It was the creator god who foretold the passing away
(decessio) of the old law through its replacement by the new.39 The old
law is defended against Marcion’s attack by being regarded as prepara-
tory for the new.40 In book 5 Tertullian moves through Paul letter by
letter, defending this notion against Marcion.
Tertullian acknowledged that Galatians was the principal anti-Judaic
letter from Paul.41 Besides noting Paul’s teaching that the old law had
ended, Tertullian was more interested to demonstrate that it was the
creator god who had called for this. The problem with Paul’s opponents
in Galatia was not their belief in a new god but in their adherence to the
old law, particularly circumcision (as had been the case for Paul with the
pressure put upon him about the uncircumcised Titus).42 It is the question
36. Wilson, “Marcion and the Jews,” 58.

37. Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 5.1.9 (CCSL 1.665).
42. Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 5.3.2 (CCSL 1.668): “non aliud statuere pergentes
quam perseuerantiam legis, ex ¿de sine dubio integra creatoris, atque ita peruertentes
euangelium, non interpolatione scripturae, qua Christum creatoris ef¿ngerent, sed
retentione ueteris disciplinae, ne legem creatoris excluderent.”
of the existence of two gods that preoccupied Tertullian’s reading of Paul

here, even while acknowledging that those under the old law had to be
liberated from it (Gal 4:5, the only time Tertullian used this verse) so that
the new law could come.43 The retention by Marcion of Gal 4:22–24,
about the sons of Abraham by Hagar and Sarah, surprised Tertullian, for
it was a passage that spoke of the two covenants and demonstrated that it
was one and the same God who created both peoples.44 The nature of the
relationship between those peoples was not at issue here.
Tertullian works his way through a number of the Pauline letters
throughout book 5.45 Interestingly, the Pastoral Letters and Hebrews are
not examined. Although there are a number of references to Judaism,
they are incidental to Tertullian’s main goal of demonstrating that Paul
believed that the creator god was one and the same with the god
preached by Jesus. The interest is with historic Judaism and not with the
situation in Paul’s own time or after. The references to Judaism in Paul
function to show how the minister of Marcion’s supposed new god was
so concerned with the creator god, unlike Marcion himself.
Paul is described as the destroyer of Judaism (destructor Iudaismi),
but one whose greetings to the Corinthians imitates what the creator god
in the Hebrew Scriptures promises: grace and peace.46 Indeed, given
Tertullian’s comments later in the book, it would seem that there is a
degree of irony and sarcasm in this statement.47 The continuity between
the two gods, which proves that there is only one, is demonstrated in the
religion of Israel, in which there was latent meaning (only to be brought
to full light by Jesus) as the hidden wisdom of God (1 Cor 2:7).48 The
passage in Deut 25:4 about the unmuzzled ox, found in 1 Cor 9:8, is
interpreted in this way: Paul acknowledged the authority of the creator
god by citing the old law, he was not seeking to destroy that authority,
and he acknowledged the allegorical value of the Hebrew Scriptures in
pointing to Christian reality.49 It is the only time that Tertullian used this

45. Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 5.5–10 (CCSL 1.675–95)—1 Corinthians; 5.11–12
(CCSL 1.695–702)—2 Corinthians; 5.13–14 (CCSL 1.702–8)—Romans; 5.15
(CCSL 1.708–10)—1 Thessalonians; 5.16 (CCSL 1.710–12)—2 Thessalonians;
5.17–18 (CCSL 1.712–20)—Ephesians; 5.19 (CCSL 1.720–23)—Colossians; 5.20
(CCSL 1.723–25)—Philippians; 5.21 (CCSL 1.725–26)—Philemon.
47. Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 5.13.15 (CCSL 1.705), wonders how Paul could have
been the destroyer of the creator since he revered the creator’s law.
48. Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 5.6.2 (CCSL1.678).
passage from Paul. It is not surprising, given Tertullian’s aim in this

book, that a passage like 1 Cor 9:20–21, about Paul being like one bound
to the law for the sake of preaching to the Jews, was not mentioned.
Turning to 2 Cor 3:7–11, about the superiority of the new covenant over
the old, Tertullian asserted that there can only be new if there has been
old.50 The old certainly existed, and it was not given by some inferior
god. The trouble was not with it, but with the blindness of the Jews
(2 Cor 3:14–15). It is one and the same God who both gave the old law,
which the Jews do not understand, and the Christ, who can remove that
misunderstanding. Since the creator god promised to establish a new law,
which came about in Jesus, Marcion’s position had to be untenable. This
was the only time he cited this passage in any of his extant writings.
In Tertullian’s reading, Romans appeared to be the Pauline letter that
most argued for the abolition (excludere) of the law.51 Yet the fact that
God leads believers, ¿rst Jew then Greek, to salvation (Rom 1:16–17) is
for Tertullian an indication that the just God is also the good God,
contrary to Marcion.52 The reference to all sinners perishing, whether
they have the law or not (Rom 2:12), is likewise only found in this book
of Adversus Marcionem.53 It is the only time in Tertullian’s literary
output that this passage is used.54 Again, the over-riding concern is with
the oneness of God: the circumcision of the heart rather than the Àesh
was not just the concern of Marcion’s new god, but of the god revealed,
for example, by Jeremiah (Rom 2:29).55 Paul was a servant of the God
of the Jews, because there was only the one God. It would seem that
Marcion excluded all of ch. 9 of Romans from his text of the letter,56 and
even when Tertullian makes comments about the next two chapters there
is little about the fate of the Jews, other than noting that the misdirected
zealousness of the Jews (Rom 10:2–4) was something the creator god
also complained about.57 Earlier, in his observations on 1 Corinthians,
Tertullian, in commenting upon the resurrection, digressed to note the
50. Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 5.11.5 (CCSL 1.696): “illic enim erit superponi quid,
ubi fuerit et illud, cui superponitur.”
54. In Tertullian, De exh. cast. 7.4 (CCSL 2.1025), there is a hint of a reference
to Rom 1:17 about living by faith, but nothing about Jews and Greeks.
55. Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 5.13.7 (CCSL 1.703). Paul does not make reference to
Jeremiah in this part of Romans.
messianic ful¿llment of prophecy. He noted that Jesus would be the one,

not Hezekiah, who would be the new Melchizedek, as he was high priest
of all the uncircumcised who believe, but that eventually he would win
over the circumcised as well. This is an allusion to Rom 11:26–27 about
the eventual salvation of Israel, but it is a passage never again alluded to
elsewhere by Tertullian.58
With regard to 1 Thess 2:15 about the Jews killing their prophets,
Tertullian used this to argue that since Paul took exception to this on
behalf of God, it would have to follow that these were the prophets of the
same God, not another one, and that the same God was offended by what
the Jews had done to the prophets as well as to Jesus.59 Any notion of
Jewish persecution of Christian Jews (or Christians in general) in the
letter receives no mention in Tertullian, as it did not contribute to his
argument against Marcion. These verses from 1 Thessalonians are only
used by Tertullian in this one instance, although elsewhere he will refer
to the Jews as persecutors of Christians.60 The unity of Jews and
Christians in Christ through the abolition of the law (Eph 2:14–15) is
mentioned in this work, but in no other of his writings.61
First and Second Corinthians

We may now turn to Tertullian’s use of Paul with regard to Judaism and
the Jews in his other works. The Pauline passage in 1 Cor 9:19–21 about
being all things to all people is mentioned in four other places in
Tertullian. In each instance, the original context about the Jewish law is
not important. The ¿rst is in the fourth book Adversus Marcionem. In
contrast to Marcion who deprived those apostles whom Paul had rebuked
of authority in the church, Tertullian asserted that perhaps Peter, who
changed his eating habits while in Antioch, was acting the same way
Paul did, being all things to all people, and by implication was unworthy
of Paul’s censure.62 In De idololatria, in commenting on blasphemy,
Tertullian argued that being all things does not mean that a Christian
becomes an idolater with idolaters.63 In defending the validity of the faith
on the basis of the apostolic tradition in De praescriptione haereticorum,

60. Tertullian, Ad nat. 1.14.2 (CCSL 1.33); Scorp. 10.10 (CCSL 2.1089). See
David M. Scholer, “Tertullian on Jewish Persecution of Christians,” StPatr 17
(1982): 821–28.
61. Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 5.17.14–15 (CCSL 1.715–16).
62. Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 4.3.3 (CCSL 1.548–49).
63. Tertullian, De idol. 14.4–5 (CCSL 2.1114).
and in defending Peter in particular, whose rebuke by Paul in Antioch

was taken by Tertullian’s opponents and proof of Peter’s lack of credi-
bility as a transmitter of the faith, Tertullian noted that things change
depending upon circumstances. One rebuke of Peter did not invalidate
his apostolic status. Indeed, Paul could change, being like a Jew to Jews
and a Gentile to Gentiles.64 The fourth instance I shall mention below.
Galatians
One would expect Tertullian to make numerous references to material
from Galatians. In De monogamia, where he interprets 1 Cor 7:39 about
whether or not a widow can remarry contrary to the standard interpre-
tation in his community, such that only someone widowed before she
became a Christian is permitted to remarry, Tertullian argued that Paul
needs to be interpreted in context, and he gathers a number of passages to
support his position. In ch. 14 he concedes that Paul might have allowed
the standard view, but it would only have been as a parallel with Moses
allowing divorce because of the hardness of Jewish hearts. It is for that
reason only that Paul allowed Timothy to be circumcised (Acts 16:3; cf.
Gal 2:3), even though he chastised those Galatian Christians who wanted
to observe the Jewish law (Gal 3:10). Paul was living according to his
principle in 1 Cor 9:20–22 of being all things to all people (this is the
fourth example, promised above).65 It was an indulgence for the Gala-
tians that has since been rescinded by the Paraclete.66 This argument of
changed historical circumstances was a rhetorical technique Tertullian
often employed when it suited.67
Paul’s censure of Peter only appears explicitly on one other occasion
in Tertullian, in De praescriptione haereticorum.68 The question in ch. 23
is about whether Paul preached a gospel that differed from that of Peter.
The answer was no. Peter had been rebuked because he had succumbed
to peer pressure or human weakness, not because he had compromised
the gospel.69 Tertullian makes uses of Gal 3 in several treatises, but on no
64. Tertullian, De prae. haer. 14.1–2 (CCSL 1.198).

65. Tertullian, De mon. 14.1–2 (CCSL 2.1249).
66. Tertullian, De mon. 14.3 (CCSL 2.1249).
University Press, 1971), 80.
68. On Tertullian’s arguments in this pamphlet, see Geoffrey D. Dunn, “Tertul-
lian’s Scriptural Exegesis in de praescriptione haereticorum,” JECS 14 (2006):
141–55.
69. Tertullian, De prae. haer. 23.1–11 (CCSL 1.204–5). This argument would be
developed in Adv. Marc. 4.3.3. This would con¿rm the point made by Timothy D.
occasion does he refer back to the historical context of debates about the
keeping of the law and the role of faith.70 Such a notable passage, like
Gal 3:28, about there being no Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or
female in Christ is never once cited by Tertullian.
Paul’s discussion of the two sons of Abraham is mentioned occasion-
ally. In De exhortatione castitatis and Ad uxorem there is an implicit
reference to Abraham’s multiple relationships as part of an argument
against Christians remarrying: Abraham would have provided an exam-
ple that could be imitated had not new discipline been imposed, which
Tertullian found in 1 Cor 7:29. Galatians is not mentioned explicitly.71 In
Adv. Marc. 3 Tertullian referred to the principle for interpreting Scripture
he would employ against Marcion, which was to understand some
passages allegorically rather than literally.72 The two sons of Abraham
were to be understood allegorically, although at this point Tertullian did
not explain that any further.73
In De praescriptione haereticorum Tertullian noted that many of the
heresies existing in his own time had already been condemned in their
embryonic form in apostolic times. Ebionism was already condemned
by Paul’s rejection in Galatians of those who defended the necessity
of circumcision and the law.74 This is really about the only occasion in
all of Tertullian’s writings, apart from what we have seen in Adv. Marc.
5, where the historical context of Galatians is noted and central to his
point.
Barnes, Tertullian: A Historical and Literary Study (rev. ed.; Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1985), 41, that De praescriptione haereticorum is to be dated prior to
Adversus Marcionem.
70. See Tertullian, De mon. 6.1–2 (CCSL 2.1235–36)—concerned about Abra-
ham as a man of faith; De carn. Chris. 22.5 (CCSL 2.931)—on Abraham (on this
part of the treatise, see Geoffrey D. Dunn, “Mary’s Virginity in partu and
Tertullian’s Anti-Docetism Reconsidered,” JTS 58 [2007]: 467–84); De exh. cast.
7.4 (CCSL 2.1025)—clergy are not to remarry (the reference to Gal 3:11 about
living by faith seems unconnected with the point being made); De fug. 12.2 (CCSL
2.1150)—Christ becoming cursed for us; De pat. 8.3 (CCSL 1.308)—the patience
of Christ in being cursed for us; and Adv. Prax. 29.3 (CCSL 2.1202)—the cursing
of Christ cannot be the cursing of the Father, which would follow from Praxean’s
theology.
71. Tertullian, De exh. cast. 6.1 (CCSL 2.1023); Ad ux. 1.2.2 (CCSL 1.374).
72. For comment on the ways in which Tertullian could use allegorical or literal
interpretations, depending upon the rhetorical situation, see Dunn, “Tertullian’s
Scriptural Exegesis,” 141–55.
74. Tertullian, De prae. haer. 33.5 (CCSL 1.214).
Hebrews
Reference to Hebrews is minimal in Tertullian, and reference to the
strongly anti-Judaic passages, like Heb 3, 7, and 8, is entirely absent in
Tertullian’s corpus of writing. De carne Christi mentions Christ as high
priest (9:10),75 and Ad uxorem mentions a promised eternal inheritance
(9:15),76 but there is no use made by Tertullian anywhere of Hebrew’s
vehement rejection of any enduring validity for the Jewish law.
Romans
While Rom 1:16 about faith-¿lled Jews ¿rst, then Greeks coming to
salvation is only used in Adv. Marc. 5, Rom 2:10, about everyone doing
good coming to glory, ¿rst the Jews then the Greeks, is never cited any-
where by Tertullian. De resurrectione mortuorum employs allegorical
interpretations of Scripture to argue for the true Àesh of Christ. At one
point he states that the blessings of heaven are blessings for the renewed
Àesh, but since the Jews are ignorant of this promise they miss out. The
new Jerusalem is the Àesh of the risen Lord, which transforms the
believer inwardly, since a true Jew is not one who merely observes the
law outwardly but inwardly (2:28–29).77 In the document for his wife,
Tertullian has to counter the belief that it is acceptable to remarry. He
does this by means of turning to this passage of Romans. The Pauline
notion of the replacement of physical circumcision with a spiritual one
from the end of Rom 2 is used by Tertullian to argue that the church was
pre¿gured by the synagogue, but that certain features of Judaism needed
to be removed and de¿ciencies needed to be recti¿ed, which they were in
Christ.78
The notion of their being advantages in being a Jew in that they have
long had the Word (3:1–2) does not appear in Tertullian anywhere, nor
does the idea that the Jews have no superiority over Christian Gentiles
since both Jew and Greek are condemned by sin (3:9). On one occasion,
in De pudicitia, where Tertullian wanted to reinforce the prohibition on
adultery and fornication, he turned to 3:31, where Paul asserted that the
law was not being abolished by faith but con¿rmed, to defend that
prohibition, which was made stronger by the teaching of Jesus.79 This is a
75. Tertullian, De carn.Chris. 5.10 (CCSL 2. 882).

76. Tertullian, Ad ux. 1.1.2 (CCSL 1.373).
77. Tertullian, De res. carn. 26.9–11 (CCSL 2.955).
78. Tertullian, Ad ux. 1.2.2–3 (CCSL 2.374–75).
79. Tertullian, De pud. 6.5 (CCSL 2.1290). The same kind of argument appears
in De mon. 7.1 (CCSL 2.1237), where Tertullian acknowledged that the old law was
abolished, but that some provisions of it were not unnecessary burdens but relevant
particularly masterful use of a piece of Scripture in a rhetorical Àourish

to argue for something (the enduring validity of the old law) that
normally he argued against. What is surprising is that this was the only
occasion he used it. Romans 4, about the faith of Abraham, appears only
in Adv. Marc. 4.80 In the parable of the man with two sons (Luke 15:11–
32), the Jews cannot be understood as represented by the elder son since
they could never have claimed to have served the father faithfully, even
though they are the elder of God’s adopted children in terms of temporal
priority (Rom 9:4).81
We now come to Rom 10–11, Paul’s moderate position with his
remnant theology. Just as Gal 3:28 is nowhere mentioned by Tertullian,
so too Rom 10:12, about there being no difference between Jew and
Greek, is never mentioned by Tertullian. Nothing else of relevance from
ch. 10 is mentioned by Tertullian.82 Romans 11:1–10, about the rejection
of most of Israel and the survival of a remnant by the grace of God, is
nowhere utilized by Tertullian, except to note, from v. 1, that Paul was
from the tribe of Benjamin.83 The notion that salvation for the Gentiles
will rouse the Jews to envy and the acceptance of the gospel (11:11–16a)
is also absent, as is reference to the organic metaphor of the grafted
branch (11:16b–21).
Conclusion
What this research reveals is just how little Tertullian turned to Paul to
comment about the relationship between Jews and Christians and about
the enduring validity of Judaism. Tertullian was a supersessionist when
he had the Jews in mind as a debating partner, as Adversus Iudaeos
reveals, where, not surprisingly, Paul was not employed as a mutually
agreed source of authority. Yet Pauline ideas, particularly as found in
Galatians, no doubt shaped much of the contrast found in the refutatio in
the early chapters about the end of the old law and physical circumcision
with their replacement by the new law and the spiritual circumcision.
When Tertullian turned his attention to someone he considered to be a
to salvation, and that what Jesus did was not abolish the law but extend it to its
originally intended purpose. See Efroymson, “Tertullian’s Anti-Jewish Rhetoric,” 32
(the reference should be Rom 3:31 not 3:11).
81. Tertullian, De pud. 8.4 (CCSL 2.1295).
82. Tertullian, Adv. Prax. 11.8 (CCSL 2.1172), cites Isa 53:1, as does Rom
10:16; De an. 49.3 (CCSL 2.855) cites Rom 10:18.
graver threat to Christianity than the Jews, viz., Marcion, and worked his
way through the Scriptures both accepted as valid, what we ¿nd in book
5, which deals with the Pauline letters, was that Tertullian was simply
interested to demonstrate that Paul was a believer in the creator god
whom Marcion rejected and that it was this god who had announced the
passing away of the old law and the coming of the new. The fate of the
Jews was irrelevant to the discussion and rarely the object of comment.
In other works Tertullian’s comments about Israel’s enduring relation-
ship with God and the importance of the old law, relied very much on
what his opponent had said previously. Of course, this depended upon
whether or not such original context was relevant to the debate in which
Tertullian was engaged. It must be remembered that he was an occasional
writer, always dealing with some controversial topic. If an opponent
denied that some requirement in the Hebrew Scriptures still applied
because it had been replaced by the new covenant of Jesus, he could
argue for the continuing relevance of the old because Jesus had come to
ful¿ll not abolish the old. Yet, equally, on other occasions, could he
argue the exact opposite by appealing to more supersessionist passages
of the New Testament. The variety of opinion within the New Testament
itself gave him this scope, but in both methods the Jews and Judaism
came in for criticism.
As ever with Tertullian it is hard to pin him down; he seems capable of
making contrary arguments on different occasions. He certainly believed
that the covenant with Moses had been abrogated and meant that the
Jews had been replaced by the Christians as God’s people. The only parts
of that covenant to be preserved were those parts con¿rmed and extended
by Jesus. Where appropriate he could turn to the Pauline letters for
support. Yet passages of Paul that challenged this notion, such as found
in Rom 11, could generally just be ignored. The interesting point to
conclude with is that it seems he could get away with this because no
opponent in Severan Carthage at the beginning of the third century seems
to have championed Paul’s remnant theology.
TERTULLIAN, PAUL, AND THE NATION OF ISRAEL:
A RESPONSE TO GEOFFREY D. DUNN
John M. G. Barclay
As Geoffrey Dunn has shown in his helpful analysis of our topic,

Tertullian rarely makes focused comment on Jews and Judaism, and
where he does Paul is not the only, or even the chief, inÀuence on his
thought. Nonetheless, there is suf¿cient material to conduct an analysis
of the points of intersection, similarity, and difference between Tertullian
and Paul, and the comparison can bring to light the historical and theo-
logical gulf that separates them. I will focus my attention on the two texts
of chief interest to Dunn, the inter-related treatises Adversus Iudaeos
and Adversum Marcionem.1 As Dunn remarks, Tertullian is a master of
rhetorical invention and can turn different elements of the biblical tradi-
tion (including the Pauline texts) to varying purposes according to his
argumentative needs. In that respect, at least, he resembles Paul, who
also produces varying statements on the people of Israel in different
letters. Tertullian can select items from this Pauline store, placing Pauline
tesserae in a new mosaic of biblical citations or allusions; even where he
follows the contents of Paul’s letters in Adv. Marc. 5, he selects only
what suits his argumentation against Marcion. But there are consistent
hermeneutical tendencies in Tertullian’s use of the Pauline material, of
which we will trace here just two.
The Historical Replacement of Jews and Judaism?

For the purposes of his argument in both our treatises, Tertullian argues
that God’s interactions with the world follow a historical order, where
certain customs or laws become valid or invalid according to “the issue
1. The complex question of the relationship between these texts I leave to one
side, glad to depend here on Dunn’s expertise. In some cases identical material on
the fate of the Jews is used in different contexts and for different purposes (e.g., Adv.
Iud. 13–14 and Adv. Marc. 3.7, 12–14, 23).
BARCLAY A Response to Geoffrey D. Dunn 99
of events and the order of the times” (exitus rerum et ordo temporum,
Adv. Iud. 13.28). This argument is crucial to the opening chapters of
Adversus Iudaeos, where Tertullian argues that the Mosaic Law was
neither original nor eternal: it came into place at a particular time, and
ordained distinctively Jewish practices such as circumcision and
Sabbath-observance which were strictly temporary, destined to pass
away once a “new law” was introduced by Christ. The same schema, for
Tertullian, applies to the people of Israel: they have had their time and
place in history, but God’s purposes have moved on from the nation of
Israel to the “second people” of Christians (Adv. Iud. 9.22), made up of
Gentiles from all across the globe. In the opening, foundational, chapter
of Adversus Iudaeos, this claim is developed by interpretation of
Rebecca’s two sons: the former (Esau = Israel) has been replaced and
“defeated” by the “greater” (Jacob = the Christian people), which
“attains the grace of divine favour from which Israel has been divorced”
(gratiam divinae dignationis consequitur, a qua Israel est repudiatus,
Adv. Iud. 1.8).2 Paul was of course undeniably a Jew, but he was destined
to be “taken away from Judaea, that is from Judaism (Judaismus), for the
building up of Christianity (Christianismus)” (Adv. Marc. 5.7.10). This
shift has taken place with the coming of Christ and is justi¿ed not only by
Israel’s history of idolatry, but also by its grievous errors of ignorance,
stupor, and unbelief in rejecting and killing Christ.
This sense of progression in salvation history is crucially con¿rmed
for Tertullian by the events that have happened since Christ, in particular
the destruction of Jerusalem and the “dispersion” of Jews from Judaea
(marked by the Hadrianic ban on Jewish access to the newly founded
Aelia Capitolina). In a precise calculation of dates up to Christ and
between Christ and 70 C.E., Tertullian insists that the Danielic and other
prophecies of the “extermination” of Jerusalem have come true exactly
as predicted (Adv. Iud. 8): the death of Christ is the precursor and cause
of the captivity and dispersion of Israel, in a tight historical connection
which proves that the promised Christ has come and that it would be
impossible for another to arise as Jews and Marcionites anticipated (Adv.
Iud. 13.28–29 = Adv. Marc. 3.23.1–4). History has borne out God’s
repudiation of the Jews so clearly that Tertullian can even take the “sign”
of circumcision (cf. Rom 4:11) as intended to mark out Jews for the
2. For the pivotal role of the Esau–Jacob identi¿cations in the logic of Adversus
Iudaeos, see especially Geoffrey D. Dunn, “Tertullian and Rebekah: A Re-Reading
of an ‘Anti-Jewish’ Argument in Early Christian Literature,” VC 52 (1998): 119–45
(143).
moment when they would be barred, by this identi¿er, from access to

Jerusalem: “which circumstance, because it was to be, used to be
announced; and, because we see it accomplished, is recognized by us”
(quia factum videmus, recognoscimus, Adv. Iud. 3.3). It is this con¿-
dence in the Christian ability to read the course of history that undergirds
Tertullian’s certainty that Israel has been replaced.
As Dunn has shown, multiple Pauline motifs could be, and were,
deployed by Tertullian in this connection. The notion that the Law has
a temporary role in history is ¿rmly anchored in the argument of
Galatians,3 while the notion that Paul’s former life was “in Judaism”
could be justi¿ed by Gal 1:13 (though not, of course, Tertullian’s corol-
lary that his subsequent life was “in Christianity”). Second Corinthians 3
provides a “new covenant” (if not quite a “new law”) and an analysis of
Jewish inability to understand their own Scriptures “to this day” (2 Cor
3:15), a time-frame Tertullian simply extended to his present. The notion
that unbelieving “Jews” were ignorant of God and responsible for killing
Jesus has, as Tertullian knew, a Pauline foundation (Rom 10:3; 1 Thess
2:15, cited in Adv. Marc. 5.14.6–8; 5.15.1–2), though whether he took
inspiration from the ¿nal, devastating comment of 1 Thess 2:16 we
cannot tell. Marcion’s highly reduced version of Romans drew Tertul-
lian’s eye to texts that brought Jews under criticism and judgment (e.g.,
Rom 2:24; Adv. Marc. 5.13.7), but Marcion’s omissions, and perhaps
Tertullian’s own predilections, led to the neglect of an equally important
strand in the theology of Romans, namely, Paul’s avowal of the priority,
election, and future salvation of Israel (for possible exceptions, see
below). As recent readings of Romans have emphasized, Paul’s persis-
tence in placing the Jew “¿rst” (Rom 1:16; 2:10) and his insistence on
the privileges of Israel (3:1–2; 9:1–5) are integral to the argument of this
letter, which asserts the faithfulness of God to his people (3:1–9; 11:1–2,
28–29) not as some adjunct to his gospel but as central to his under-
standing of God, Christ, and history. The schema of processes outlined in
Rom 11 includes the “hardening of Israel,” but Paul most emphatically
refuses to accept that the time of Israel is past; on the contrary, the
present Gentile mission is designed to provoke Israel to jealousy, “and
so all Israel will be saved” (11:25–26). Although this “mystery” has been
variously assessed and explained in Pauline scholarship, it amounts to
more than the “remnant theology” suggested by Geoffrey Dunn. Paul
imagines a future for Israel beyond its present, temporary, and partial
3. Tertullian’s reference to its arrival 430 years after Abraham (Adv. Iud. 2.9)
may be a silent echo of Gal 3:17.
“fall,” and although the Àow of Rom 9–11 suggests that Israel’s
“unbelief” will be overcome only through faith in Christ, this large-scale
“regrafting” of lopped-off branches when “the Redeemer comes from
Zion, to take away impiety from Israel” (11:23–26) indicates that Paul
does not regard the history of ethnic Israel as having come to an end.4
The difference between Paul and Tertullian on this point may be partly
ascribed to their differing historical and social contexts. Paul writes in
puzzlement at the unbelief of most of his fellow Jews, but with no reason
to think that this was either ¿nal or de¿nitive. Tertullian writes with
hindsight following the destruction of the Temple and the double
devastation of Jerusalem (in 70 and 135 C.E.), a context in which it was
temptingly easy to read historical events as a judgment on Jews and
Judaism. Paul writes in consciousness that a large proportion of Christ-
followers were Jews, not least in Rome and in Jerusalem, both destina-
tions on his mind as he wrote to the Romans. Although he is not (much)
directly involved, he supports the witness of these fellow believers to his
unbelieving Jewish “kinsmen according to the Àesh” (Rom 9:3) and
expends considerable effort in raising money in support of Jewish Christ-
believers in Jerusalem. Tertullian knows that many early believers were
Jews, including Paul, but he takes it as obvious that in his day “Christ is
unknown among the Jews but well known among ourselves” (Adv. Marc.
5.11.8). In social and institutional terms, Tertullian thinks of “Christians”
as categorically distinct from “Jews”; there was every incentive to think
of the two as mutually exclusive.
But does Tertullian just select and extend Paul’s statements on Israel
for a different historical and social context? Or, to put the question the
other way around, if Paul had lived another few years to witness the fall
of Jerusalem and the increasing eclipse of Jewish believers by Gentile
converts, would he have articulated a theology like that of Tertullian?
There are reasons to think not, and thus to assert that Tertullian has not
just selected elements of Pauline theology, but has fundamentally mis-
read Paul at a central point. I hope to substantiate that claim in what
follows.
4. The interpretative disputes around the “mystery” of Rom 11 are manifold; for
a selection of views, see John G. Gager, Reinventing Paul (Oxford: Oxford Uni-
versity Press, 2000); N. T. Wright, The Climax of the Covenant: Christ and the Law
in Pauline Theology (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1991); Florian Wilk and J. Ross
Wagner, eds., Between Gospel and Election: Explorations in the Interpretation of
Romans 9–11 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010). I have surveyed some of the issues
and summarized my own reading of the matter in “Paul, Judaism and the Jewish
People,” in The Blackwell Companion to Paul (ed. Stephen Westerholm; Chichester:
Wiley-Blackwell, 2010), 188–201.
The Cessation of Grace to Israel?

As noted above, Tertullian thinks that Israel since Christ has been
“divorced” from divine favor (Adv. Iud. 1.8). Since the Holy Spirit has
begun to build the church, “from that time forward the grace of God has
ceased among them” (exinde apud illos destitit dei gratia): deprived of
“heavenly bene¿ts” and with “the dews of spiritual graces taken from
them” (subtractis charismatum roribus), their land has been made deso-
late and their cities burned with ¿re (Adv. Marc. 3.23.2–3; cf. Adv. Iud.
13.25–26).
In another context he can speak of Jews as the Creator’s sons “by the
election of their fathers” (allectione patrum, Adv. Marc. 5.17.10), but it
is not clear if that has ongoing consequences. In fact, the only note of
hope for the future is a passing comment in Adv. Marc. 5.9.9, where it is
said that “when he [Christ] comes at the last time, he will vouchsafe
acceptance and blessing to the circumcised, the offspring of Abraham,
who will at long last acknowledge him.” It is possible, as Dunn suggests,
that there is an echo here of Paul’s “mystery” in Rom 11, but if so what
has been lost is Paul’s theological rationale for his con¿dence that God
will again have mercy. Where Paul cites the story of Rebecca’s twin
sons, Esau and Jacob, he does not identify the older son with Israel and
the younger son with the Christian church; rather, he highlights the
apparent irrationality of God’s unconditioned election, which does not
correspond to their ancestry, their achievements, or their order of birth
(9:6–13). Paul uses this story to establish that God’s word does not fail
(9:6) and that that word operates not by natural descent or moral worth,
but solely by God’s choice, God’s call, and God’s inexplicable mercy
(9:14–16).
Thus, the reason for Paul’s hope that “all Israel will be saved” (11:26)
is his conviction that God’s mercy remains faithful irrespective of Israel’s
disobedience and unbelief: if Israel appears to stand in the category of
“enemies” in relation to the gospel, this cannot be the single or ¿nal
word, since Israel is also “beloved for the sake of the patriarchs, in
accordance with election” (11:28). The grounds for that election lie in
nothing else than the grace or mercy of God: “for the gifts of grace and
the calling of God are irrevocable” (11:29). God will redeem Israel
because such redemption has been constituted from the very beginning
by the unconditioned grace of God, the very grace that is taking effect
now in the salvation of the Gentiles. For Paul the Christ-event does not
annul the elective grace of Israel, but rather con¿rms and guarantees its
operation, and if this takes place now through a period of disobedience,
that is precisely the signature mark of the incongruous grace of God

(11:30–32).5
Thus, Tertullian’s appropriation of Paul at this point is not only
selective and not merely an adaptation for a later point in time. More
fundamentally, in his claim that God’s mercy has ceased to operate for
Israel, Tertullian contradicts Paul’s assertions to the contrary and misses
the deep logic of Rom 9–11. Tertullian concludes from historical
events—the destruction of Jerusalem, the exclusion of Jews from their
city, the increasing separation of Jewish and Christian communities—
that Israel has been divorced from the favor of God; he lets history
dictate the contours of his theology. Paul faces with sorrow and bewil-
derment the facts of history—the unexpected disinclination of most Jews
to believe in Christ—but resists the conclusion that God’s mercy has
concluded in judgment, because of the strength of his theological con-
viction that God’s mercy will never be defeated by human disobedience.
Tertullian can cite numerous biblical texts on the punishment of God’s
people, Israel; Paul responds to a deeper biblical logic, clari¿ed and
regrounded in Christ, that despite human sin God’s calling of Israel in
mercy cannot and will not fail.
5. See further John M. G. Barclay, “ ‘I will have mercy on whom I have mercy’:
The Golden Calf and Divine Mercy in Romans 9–11 and Second Temple Judaism,”
Early Christianity 1 (2010): 82–106.
5
THE JUSTIFICATION OF THE MARTYRS
Candida Moss
Introduction
In scholarly treatments of Tertullian, his pro-martyrdom stance is
considered so manifestly clear that it is stated more than it is proven.1
Tertullian is demonstrably and undeniably a supporter of martyrdom. It
is from Tertullian that the most famous early Christian slogan—“the
blood of the martyrs is seed” (Apol. 50)—is derived. As a Carthaginian
Christian, Tertullian had more than a passing interest in the fate of the
Christians arrested and tried during the Severan period. Among them,
and well known to Tertullian, were North Africa’s most famous
daughters—Perpetua and Felicity—as well as the martyrs of Scilli, and
other martyrs known only through Tertullian’s own writings. Moreover,
ancient and modern historical assessments of the New Prophecy move-
ment have claimed that its adherents were especially inclined toward
martyrdom, even offering themselves for death. While the caricature of
the foolish death-crazed martyr has come under some scrutiny in recent
years, it is still within this broader context of Spirit-¿lled enthusiasm for
death that Tertullian has been understood. Consequently, and somewhat
unfairly, Tertullian’s views on martyrdom have been seen as more mar-
ginal and extreme than those of his Alexandrian contemporary Origen.
Yet the exoticization of Tertullian’s views on martyrdom obscures a
well-developed theology of martyrdom, a theology that was deeply
politicized2 and that drew upon the writings of earlier Christian apolo-
gists, Roman discourse about death, and Pauline traditions about the
spirit and suffering.
1. All quotations and references to Tertullian are, unless otherwise noted, found
in vols. 3–4 of the Ante-Nicene Fathers. Translations from the New Testament are
taken from the NRSV.
2. David Wilhite, Tertullian the African: An Anthropological Reading of
Tertullian’s Context (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2007), 167.
MOSS The Justi¿cation of the Martyrs 105
Tertullian engages the subject of martyrdom in a number of his works.

In addition to his famous Apologia, which defends the cause of Christians
to a posited external observer, there are those works that are addressed to
or otherwise directly justify the actions of the martyrs. The present study
will focus on the latter group of texts, on those accounts—Ad martyras,
Scorpiace, De fuga in persecutione—that use the writings of Paul to
develop and defend a distinctive view of martyrs, rather than simply
Christianity in general.3 It will focus not only on those passages in which
Paul is explicitly cited by Tertullian, but on those arguments that appear
to allude to or draw upon the thought world of the Pauline Epistles.4
Discussions of Tertullian’s attitudes to martyrdom have consistently
been set within the larger context of Tertullian’s growing interest in the
New Prophecy movement. For those interested in Montanism and
Montanist attitudes to martyrdom, Tertullian’s writings have been the
inevitable starting point. Even for those who do not take Tertullian to be
the champion for and embodiment of Montanist teachings, almost all
would divide Tertullian’s thinking on martyrdom into two periods: his
non-Montanist period (196/7–208/9 C.E.) and his Montanist period
(208/9–212/3 C.E.). Yet it is possible that the extremism of Tertullian’s
position on martyrdom has been exaggerated and that, while harsh, his
views were far closer to those of the majority of Carthaginian Christians
than is usually acknowledged. More recent scholarship has sought to
deconstruct the binary relationship between Tertullian before and after
his movement toward Montanism. As Laura Nasrallah has observed with
respect to Tertullian’s Montanist period, “It is clear that Tertullian
considered himself to be aligned with the ‘new prophecies’…[this does
not mean] that he converted or that he understood himself or that others
understood him to be anything other than a true Christian.”5 With respect
3. For the purposes of the present study I will not treat the famous Passion of
Perpetua and Felicitas. While some, for instance Van Beek, have argued that
Tertullian is the author of this account, it seems unlikely to me that Tertullian would
compose an account and mistakenly describe it in another work. For arguments in
favor of Tertullian’s authorship, see C. J. M. J. Van Beek, ed., Passio Sanctarum
Perpetuae et Felicitatis, vol. 1 (Nijmegen: Dekker & Van de Vegt, 1936), 92–96.
For arguments against, see discussion in Jan N. Bremmer, “Perpetua and Her Diary:
Authenticity, Family and Visions,” in Märtyrer und Märtyrerakten (ed. W. Ameling;
Stuttgart: Steiner, 2002), 77–120.
4. On allusion as an important means by which texts are received and interpreted,
see Candida R. Moss, The Other Christs: Imitating Jesus in Ancient Christian
Ideologies of Martyrdom (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 3–18.
5. Laura Nasrallah, An Ecstasy of Folly: Prophecy and Authority in Early
Christianity (HTS 52; Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2003).
to martyrdom, it may well be the case that Tertullian’s pre-Montanist

views have very little to set them apart from his later Montanist views.
Even if Tertullian’s perspective develops in this period, there may well
be points of continuity between the two stages in Tertullian’s thinking.6
For our purposes, therefore, we will discuss Tertullian’s works in terms
of their place in the chronology of his writing, rather than with a view to
a speci¿c doctrinal character.
The predominant theme in Tertullian’s argument for martyrdom in
his early writings is his conviction that martyrdom is the will of God
while persecution is not. This apparent contradiction was justi¿ed by a
complex description of politics and society as a whole. According to
Tertullian, Roman society writ large was corrupted by demonic inÀu-
ence. It was these demons and Satan in particular who were responsible
for persuading people to worship false deities (Apol. 22). That Christians
were incapable of holding public of¿ce (Apol. 21.24; De idol. 17.1–19.3)
meant that pagan rulers were susceptible to demonic inÀuence and were
frequently deceived into persecuting Christians (Apol. 27.4–5). Even
if persecution did not have its cause in God, Tertullian is insistent that
God allows persecution to occur (Apol. 50.12) and that God demands
that Christians remain faithful, even if this ¿delity leads to their deaths
(Apol. 50.2).
At a number of junctures, Tertullian concedes that the demands of
God are dif¿cult. While, rhetorically, he employs a number of stock
arguments to exhort his audience—shaming them by comparing them
unfavorably to women and fools, promising heavenly rewards, extolling
the Christians as the ones to be feared—theologically the source of
action is the Spirit. It is only with the help of the Spirit that anything is
achieved. In De fug. 14 it is clear that willingness to be martyred, con-
duct obligatory for all Christians, was in fact only possible with the help
of the Paraclete.7
6. The observation that Tertullian’s basic perspective on martyrdom did not alter
with his conversion to Montanism was made as early as W. Gass, “Das christliche
Märtyrerthum in den ersten Jahrhunderten und dessen Idee,” ZHT 30 (1860): 315–81
(321). More generally, Eric Osborn has suggested that the “conversion” to Montan-
ism merely strengthened those views already present in Tertullian’s thought. See
Eric Osborn, Tertullian, First Theologian of the West (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni-
versity Press, 1997), 210.
7. In this passage Tertullian explicitly refers to the Johannine comforter and
1 John 4:18.
Ad martyras
In Ad martyras, Tertullian writes words of encouragement to his fellow
Christians awaiting trial ca. 197 C.E.8 Having begun with an uplifting
reassessment of the confessor’s imprisonment, Tertullian moves on to a
dark form of encouragement. Much of the rhetoric of the exhortation
here is laden with politicized and gendered comparisons with other
groups. If non-Christians, mere women, and vainglorious fools are will-
ing to embrace not only death, but also torture, then surely the Christians
should be even more willing to suffer for Christ. The text hangs heavy
with the threat of public shame. In contrast to his numerous references to
ancient literature, Tertullian refers to Paul directly on only one occasion
here. Yet amid the rhetoric of praise and shame, Tertullian utilizes a
number of Pauline topoi about imprisonment, struggle, and the spirit.9
On the surface of the text, Tertullian draws upon tried and tested
analogies to Christ and executed pagans. He compares the plight of
Christians in prison to the desert solitude of the prophets and, in turn,
compares these situations to the solitude of the Lord when he was on
earth. Following classic martyrological logic in which that which is
reviled is embraced and conquered, Tertullian describes the prison as a
“place of safety” for the Christians. They are freed from the greater
worldly fetters that bind men’s very souls. The Christians, writes Tertul-
lian, have been made free by God and, despite the fact that the prison is
full of foul scents, they are an “odor of sweetness” (2).10 This opening
8. The dating of this text to 197 C.E. is accepted by, e.g., Timothy D. Barnes,
Tertullian: A Historical and Literary Study (rev. ed.; Oxford: Clarendon, 1985), 52–
53, 55. Similarities with the Passion of Perpetua and Felicitas led Schlegel to argue
that the account must have been composed around the same time (ca. 202/203). See
B. D. Schlegel, “The Ad Martyras of Tertullian and the Circumstances of Its
Composition,” DRev 63 (1945): 125–28. I follow Weinrich and others in seeing the
Passion of Perpetua and Felicitas as a separate composition. Given that Schlegel’s
argument hinges on Tertullian’s authorship of the Passio, it does not to this author
seem to be persuasive. See William C. Weinrich, Spirit and Martyrdom: A Study of
the Work of the Holy Spirit in Contexts of Persecution and Martyrdom in the New
Testament and Early Christian Literature (Washington, D.C.: University Press of
America, 1981), 223–25.
9. On the surprising under-utilization of Paul in this text and more broadly, see
Andrew M. Bain, “Tertullian: Paul as Teacher of the Gentile Churches,” in Paul and
the Second Century (ed. Michael F. Bird and Joseph R. Dodson; New York: T&T
Clark International, 2011), 207–25.
10. The sweet scent of a martyr is another common topos in Christian hagiogra-
phy. For a comprehensive discussion of scent in martyrdom accounts, see Annick
description of a prison full of sweet scent is reminiscent of the Pauline

Prison Epistles in which Paul describes his joy at imprisonment. The
literary gesture to Paul sets up an implicit model for Christian imprison-
ment.11
As consolation for those currently imprisoned, Tertullian offers the
promise of extra-corporeal freedom. Utilizing a traditional dichotomy
between the body and the spirit, Tertullian argues that the spirit is free to
leave the prison to pursue the path to God:
Though the body is shut in, though the Àesh is con¿ned, all things are
open to the spirit. In spirit, then, roam abroad; in spirit walk about, not
setting before you shady paths or long colonnades, but the way which
leads to God. As often as in spirit your footsteps are there, so often you
will not be in bonds. The leg does not feel the chain when the mind is in
the heavens. (Ad mart. 2)
Tertullian’s description of practices akin to dream incubation and ecstatic

prophecy has drawn a great deal of attention. Given that, according to
the traditional scholarly narrative, Tertullian is not yet a Montanist,
his reference to spiritual sojourning suggests that prophecy was a facet
of Tertullian’s Christianity prior to his acquaintance with the New
Prophecy. Whatever sociological phenomena are alluded to here, it is
clear that Tertullian focuses the intent of roaming in the spirit on the path
to God. Moreover, while Tertullian may be discussing dream incubation,
or other spiritual practices, it is possible to see Tertullian as interpreting
Pauline notions of the Spirit. The idea that the mind dwells in the
heavens and is set on the Spirit is reminiscent of Paul’s description of the
Spirit and dwelling in the heavens with Christ (2 Cor 5:1) and the notion
of the extra-corporeal ascent of the soul to heaven may allude to the
vision of the third heaven in 2 Cor 12. Read in light of Pauline notions of
the Spirit, Tertullian’s advice here is less a statement on charismatic
spiritual practices than it is an exegetically grounded exhortation to the
imprisoned.
One of the central metaphors employed by Tertullian in his exhorta-
tion to the imprisoned Christians is the image of the athlete. Tertullian,
like other early Christians, treats martyrdom as an athletic contest:
Lallemand, “Le Parfum des martyrs dans les Actes des martyrs de Lyon et le Martyre
de Polycarpe,” StPatr 16 (1985): 189–92. For a survey of scent in martyrdom litera-
ture in general, see Suzanne Evans, “The Scent of a Martyr,” Numen 49 (2002):
193–211.
11. On the ¿gure of Paul as martyr in Tertullian, see David L. Eastman, Paul the
Martyr: The Cult of the Apostle in the Latin West (Atlanta: SBL, 2011), 229.
You are about to pass through a noble struggle in which the living God
acts the part of superintendent, in which the Holy Spirit is your trainer, in
which the prize is an eternal crown of angelic essence, citizenship in
heavens, glory everlasting… [The athletes] are kept from luxury, from
daintier meats, from more pleasant drinks; they are pressed, racked, worn
out; the harder their labours in the preparatory training, the stronger is the
hope of victory. “And they,” says the apostle, “that they may obtain a
corruptible crown” [1 Cor 9:25]. We, with the crown eternal in our eye,
look upon prison as our training-ground, that at the goal of ¿nal judgment
we may be brought forth well disciplined by many a trial; since virtue is
built up by hardships, as by voluptuous indulgence is overthrown.
(Ad mart. 3)
Athletic imagery is strikingly common in martyrdom texts, arguably

because the situation of execution ad bestias was already connected to
notions of military struggle and athleticism. It is worth noting, however,
that the language of athletic contest and heavenly reward is explicitly
tied to Paul’s discussion of the “imperishable crown” won by Paul
himself (1 Cor 9:25). That this citation is coupled with a discussion of
heavenly citizenship (Phil 3:20) only strengthens the force of the allu-
sion. Tertullian’s notion of heavenly rewards as the result of martyrdom
draws upon Pauline language of heavenly citizenship and spiritual
contest. It is noteworthy that Tertullian here, as elsewhere, sees a direct
relationship between the degree of torture and the certainty of reward.
His statement that “the harder their labors…the stronger is the hope of
victory” implies that the post-mortem expectations of the martyr directly
correlate to their pre-mortem sufferings.12
Immediately preceding this passage Tertullian utilizes the related lan-
guage of military battle to describe the martyrs. According to Tertullian,
every Christian is a miles Christi on account of the oath of allegiance to
God he or she takes at baptism (Ad mart. 3.1). In this way, imprisonment
is likened to the process of preparation for military contest (Ad mart.
3.1). Military identity comes to de¿ne what it is to be a Christian. Like
the image of the rewarded athlete, the notion of the Christian as soldier
for Christ takes its rise from the Pauline and deutero-Pauline epistles.
Paul refers to both his co-worker Epaphroditus and the Christian
12. A. Brekelman argues that Tertullian conceives of the martyr’s glory in terms
similar to those of the gladiatorial games. The strati¿cation of the martyr’s glory
would thus reÀect the varying degrees of fame enjoyed by ancient athletes and
gladiators. See Antonius J. Brekelman’s Martyrerkranz: Eine symbolgeschichtiche
Untersuchung im frühchristlichen Schrifttum (Rome: Libreria Editrice dell’ Uni-
versitá Gregoriana, 1965), 72–76.
Archippus as “fellow soldier[s]” (Phil 2:25; Phlm 2). The author of

2 Timothy even exhorts the addressees of the letter to “share in suffering
like a good soldier of Christ Jesus” (2 Tim 2:3). In this last passage, as in
Tertullian, military exhortations are tied to athletic imagery (2 Tim 2:5).
In tying athleticism and military imagery to martyrdom, Tertullian
utilizes a pre-existent deutero-Pauline tradition that tied the sufferings of
the Christian to models of endurance and struggle. For Tertullian, how-
ever, aesthetic militaristic preparation for martyrdom extends beyond
imprisonment. Wealth and physical comfort can become an obstacle to
martyrdom. In De cul. fem. 2.13.3–7, he warns women that wearing
¿nery could render them incapable of facing martyrdom. Preparation for
martyrdom encompassed not only fasting and torture, but also dress and
physical comfort more broadly.
Although Paul’s writings clearly stand behind Tertullian’s thinking in
Ad martyras, they are evident only in the form of occasional allusions
that linger beneath the surface of the text. And while these allusions
would have been readily apparent to those familiar with the Pauline
Epistles, it is noteworthy that Tertullian chooses not to cite Paul explic-
itly. We should further note that in Ad martyras, a text written in his
pre-Montanist period, Tertullian refers to prophetic and visionary prac-
tices more usually associated with Montanism. It is clear that Tertullian’s
interests in both martyrdom and prophetic visionary practices pre-date
his “conversion” to the New Prophecy movement.
Scorpiace
Tertullian’s argument that God wills martyrdom ¿nds its most forceful
expression in his writings against the Valentinians. In Scorpiace, written
ca. 203/4 C.E., Tertullian repudiates the views of the Valentinians who
apparently claimed that martyrdom was unnecessary (Scorp. 1.8).13
Tertullian’s characterization of these opinions as akin to the poison of a
scorpion epitomizes his argument. In his antidote, he argues that martyr-
dom is the practical consequence of keeping God’s commandment
(Scorp. 2–3). God must have known, says Tertullian, that martyrdom
would be the end result of keeping the commandment against idolatry,
thus God “could not have been unwilling” that people would be martyred
(4.4). God’s approval of martyrdom does not render God un-good but,
13. On the date of Scorpiace, see Timothy D. Barnes, “Tertullian’s Scorpiace,”

JTS 20 (1969): 105–32, and Tertullian, 171–76. More recently Dunn has argued that
the account was written in 212 C.E., during Tertullian’s Montanist phase. See
Geoffrey D. Dunn, Tertullian (London/New York: Routledge, 2004), 105.
rather, demonstrates that martyrdom is good: because it is willed by God

(5.1–2) and is the opposite of idolatry (5.3–5). In the end, God heals
people by giving them eternal life (5.6–13), enables them to conquer the
devil (6.1–2), and provides them with exceptional rewards (6.2–11).
These post-mortem rewards Tertullian rationalizes with recourse both to
the “many mansions” in the house of the father and to the differing forms
of astral glory described in 1 Cor 15:41. From these examples, which
presuppose differentiation and strati¿ed glory, Tertullian argues that
suffering will bring about an “increase of brightness” in the afterlife.14
He concludes by restating that God wills martyrdom in order to show
that “righteousness suffers violence” (Scorp. 8) and grounds his under-
standing of how martyrdom works in the importance of the spirit. Just as
under the old covenant martyrdom was commanded for those (Isaiah,
Jeremiah, and Daniel) moved by the Spirit, so too, under the new covenant
inaugurated by Christ, martyrdom is commanded for those moved by the
Holy Spirit (Scorp. 9–14). Martyrdom is made possible and anticipated
by Jesus’ instructions to the apostles, in which he warned them that they
would be arrested and tried, but in which he promised that the Spirit
would tell them what to say. The prime textual reference here in Scorp.
9–14 is Matt 10:16, supplemented with pneumatological arguments from
1 Peter and Revelation. It is interesting that, in Scorpiace at least,
Tertullian does not explicitly connect this language to Pauline notions of
the Spirit in order to justify martyrdom. Rather, the spirit that sustains
the Christian through martyrdom is characterized using Johannine
notions of love and comfort.
In ch. 13, however, having surveyed Old Testament examples and
sayings of Jesus, Tertullian turns to the example of Paul himself. The
writings and person of Paul are here intermingled; it is not just Paul’s
writings on suffering, but their distinctly personal and autobiographi-
cal nature that appeals to Tertullian.15 The legacy of Paul the martyr,
refracted through his own letters and the Pastoral Epistles and supple-
mented by martyrological traditions about the death of Paul, informs
Tertullian’s use of the Epistles:16
14. On the elevated post-mortem rewards of the martyrs in general and in

Carthaginian Christianity in particular, see Moss, Other Christs, 150–55.
15. So Robert D. Sider, “Literary Arti¿ce and the Figure of Paul in the Writings
of Tertullian,” in Paul and the Legacies of Paul (ed. William S. Babcock; Dallas,
Tex.: Southern Methodist University Press, 1990), 99–120 (100).
16. It must be admitted that Tertullian has a very ambiguous relationship toward
the Acts of Paul and Thecla, one of the apocryphal accounts relating to Paul. In De
bapt. 17.5, he describes the account in the following way: “But if certain Acts of
Paul, which are falsely so named, claim the example of Thecla for allowing women
…[Paul] (I say,) speaks in favor of martyrdoms, now to be chosen by

himself also, when, rejoicing over the Thessalonians, he says, “So that we
glory in you in the churches of God, for your patience and faith in all your
persecutions and tribulations, in which ye endure a manifestation of the
righteous judgment of God, that ye may be accounted worthy of His
kingdom, for which ye also suffer!” [2 Thess 1:4]. As also in his Epistle to
the Romans: “And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also, being sure
that tribulation worketh patience, and patience experience, and experience
hope; and hope maketh not ashamed.” (Scorp. 13)
The concatenation of passages about the endurance of tribulation is in

turn connected to Pauline language of inheritance and the family.
Following the logical path of Rom 8, Tertullian links language of ¿ctive
kinship to the idea of cleaving to God despite all manner of worldly
adversity. In both cases the formula is the same: bonds of inheritance or
bonds of love mean that suffering must be endured:
And again: “And if children, then heirs, heirs indeed of God, and joint-
heirs with Christ: if so be that we suffer with Him, that we may be also
glori¿ed together. For I reckon that the sufferings of this time are not
worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us” [Rom
8:17]. And therefore he afterward says: “Who shall separate us from the
love of God? Shall tribulation, or distress, or famine, or nakedness, or
peril, or sword? (As it is written: For Thy sake we are killed all the day
long; we have been counted as sheep for the slaughter.) Nay, in all these
things we are more than conquerors, through Him who loved us. For we
are persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor power, nor height, nor
depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of
God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord” [Rom 8:35–39]. (Scorp. 8)
At the same time, we ¿nd hints here of the notion of the martyr’s eschato-
logical reward. Tertullian gestures towards the future glori¿cation that
follows from co-suffering with Christ:
In Scorpiace, Tertullian is aware of a potential Àaw in his reading of
Scripture, namely, that Romans could be read as an exhortation to submit
to the demands of earthly authorities. At Scorp. 14 Tertullian heads this
potential objection off at the pass:
No doubt the apostle admonishes the Romans to be subject to all power,
because there is no power but of God, and because (the ruler) does not
carry the sword without reason, and is the servant of God, nay also, says
to teach and to baptize, let men know that in Asia the presbyter who compiled that
document, thinking to add of his own to Paul’s reputation, was found out, and
though he professed he had done it for love of Paul, was deposed from his position”
(Septimii Florentis Tertulliani de baptismo liber. Tertullian’s Homily on Baptism
[trans. Ernest Evans; London: SPCK, 1964], 36).
he, a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil. For he had also
previously spoken thus: “For rulers are not a terror to a good work, but to
an evil. Wilt thou then not be afraid of the power? Do that which is good,
and thou shalt have praise of it. Therefore he is a minister of God to thee
for good. But if thou do that which is evil, be afraid” [Rom 13:3–4]. Thus
he bids you be subject to the powers, not on an opportunity occurring for
his avoiding martyrdom, but when he is making an appeal in behalf of a
good life, under the view also of their being as it were assistants bestowed
upon righteousness, as it were handmaids of the divine court of justice,
which even here pronounces sentence beforehand upon the guilty.
Tertullian’s argument here is that the command to submit to the authori-

ties in Rom 13:1–7 is not an excuse for avoiding or Àeeing martyrdom.
The rationale is that Christians should submit to authorities only in those
cases where the authorities are behaving correctly on matters appropriate
to their jurisdiction. Tertullian foreshadows this conclusion through an
appeal to Paul’s own experience with persecution.17 He amasses a
plethora of citations in which Paul describes suffering and persecution
approvingly in order to demonstrate that Paul’s actions and Tertullian’s
interpretation of Paul’s words are mutually reinforcing (Scorp. 13).
It is fascinating that Tertullian’s interest in Paul qua martyr and holy
sufferer emerges as a counter-argument to a potential Valentinian argu-
ment about collaboration with the state. Paul is invoked in Scorpiace, as
he is not explicitly in Ad martyras, in order to refute an interpretation
of Paul himself. In many ways the appeal to Paul as martyrological
exemplar is an expedient rhetorical move designed to undermine Paul’s
own writings. Though Paul appears in this account, as he does not in Ad
martyras, it is only in situations where the legacy of Paul himself is
being contested and reinterpreted in polemical contexts. Paul’s writings
do not appear to form the theological underpinnings for Tertullian’s
views on martyrdom; they are invoked strategically and selectively.
De fuga in persecutione
Around the turn of the third century, and perhaps in the wake of an
intense period of Roman prosecution of Christians, Tertullian became
increasingly concerned with the question of Àight as a means of avoiding
martyrdom. In a letter to his wife written around 203 C.E., Tertullian
writes that Àight is still preferable to apostasy, and as such is permitted,
17. Tertullian cites 2 Thess 1:4; Rom 5:3; 8:17, 35; 2 Cor 4:8; 11:23; 12:10; Phil
1:29–30; 2:17; 2 Tim 1:7–8; 2:11; 4:6. For a discussion of Tertullian’s use of Paul
here, see Barnes, Tertullian, 176–79.
but that it is not condoned (Ad ux. 1.3.4).18 The issue of Àight comes to a
head in his pamphlet De fuga in persecutione (ca. 212/3 C.E.), which was
composed as a response to a request by a certain Fabius. Here he uses
harsh uncompromising language to describe those clergy who Àed perse-
cution. He labels them bad shepherds who left their Àocks to be torn to
pieces (De fug. 11.1–3). The tone of the account, therefore, speaks to an
intensi¿cation in Tertullian’s already stated distaste for Àight.
In his argument against Àight, there appears to have been an important
but subtle shift in Tertullian’s position on the origins of persecution
itself. Whereas in earlier works such as Ad martyras persecution was
caused by the devil’s deception, here persecution comes “by the devil’s
agency, but not by the devil’s origination” (2.2). Persecution has become
the means by which the church is puri¿ed and God is glori¿ed (1.5–6;
3.1). Persecution now serves a positive function and stems, ultimately,
from the will of God.
The basis for this argument is rooted in the Corinthian correspondence
and in Paul’s arguments about strength and weakness. Drawing upon the
language of perfection, Tertullian argues that persecution (here, injustice)
affords the opportunity for the display of righteousness and perfection of
weakness:
For in other respects, too, injustice in proportion to the enmity it displays
against righteousness affords occasion for attestations of that to which it
is opposed as an enemy, that so righteousness may be perfected in injus-
tice, as strength is perfected in weakness [2 Cor 12:9]. For the weak
things of the world have been chosen by God to confound the strong, and
the foolish things of the world to confound its wisdom [1 Cor 1:27–28].
Thus even injustice is employed, that righteousness may be approved in
putting unrighteousness to shame. (De fug. 2)
The language of inversion—weakness reveals and facilitates strength,

injustice enables righteousness to put it to shame—is adapted from Paul.
In particular, Tertullian refers to Paul’s own personal experience of
weakness-perfecting strength (2 Cor 12:9), the notorious thorn in the
Àesh (2 Cor 12:7):
For either, with a view to their being approved, the power of trial is
granted to him, [Satan] challenged or challenging, as in the instances
already referred to, or, to secure an opposite result, the sinner is handed
over to him, as though he were an executioner to whom belonged the
inÀicting of punishment, as in the case of Saul. “And the Spirit of the
18. On the date of this account, see ibid., 55. Barnes argues that, prior to becom-
ing a Montanist, Tertullian opposed voluntary martyrdom and freely advocated Àight
in times of persecution (176).
Lord,” says Scripture, “departed from Saul, and an evil spirit from the
Lord troubled and stiÀed him”; or the design is to humble, as the apostle
tells us, that there was given him a stake (sudis), the messenger of Satan,
to buffet him [2 Cor 12:7] and even this sort of thing is not permitted in
the case of holy men, unless it be that at the same time strength of endur-
ance may be perfected in weakness. For the apostle likewise delivered
Phygellus and Hermogenes over to Satan that by chastening they might
be taught not to blaspheme. You see, then, that the devil receives more
suitably power even from the servants of God; so far is he from having it
by any right of his own. (De fug. 2)
It is clear that the thorn in the Àesh, even as a messenger of Satan, is both
permitted by God and serves a correctional and strengthening purpose.19
The same argument is made with respect to this aspect of Paul’s biogra-
phy in De pud. 13, in which Tertullian appears to suggest that the thorn
in the Àesh is caused by an ear or head injury.20 Here, in De fuga in
persecutione, Tertullian argues by way of analogy: just as God would not
allow Paul to suffer unless it were in some way strengthening, so also
Satan would not be permitted to attack the members of God’s household
were it not allowed by God.
Just as the purpose and function of persecution and martyrdom is
grounded in Paul’s sense of his own corporeal weakness, the Christian’s
ability to resist Satan is located in post-baptismal Christian corporeality.
In exhorting the Christians to steadfastness and courage, Tertullian com-
bines two Pauline ideas: the idea that Christians are to judge the angels
(1 Cor 6:3) and the idea that at baptism Christians clothe themselves in
Christ (Gal 3:27):
Do you fear man, O Christian?—you who ought to be feared by the
angels, since you are to judge angels; who ought to be feared by evil
spirits, since you have received power also over evil spirits; who ought to
be feared by the whole world, since by you, too, the world is judged. You
are Christ-clothed, you who Àee before the devil, since into Christ you
have been baptized. Christ, who is in you, is treated as of small account
when you give yourself back to the devil, by becoming a fugitive before
him. (De fug. 10)
19. Earlier in this passage Tertullian refers to Job 1:12, and it is possible that the
intellectual foundations for the idea that God allows persecution by Satan are to be
found in Job.
20. On Tertullian’s interpretation of Paul’s condition, see Ulrich Heckel, “Der
Dorn im Fleisch: Die Krankheit des Paulus in 2Kor 12,7 und Gal 4,13f.,” ZNW 84
(1993): 65–92, and Adela Yarbro Collins, “Paul’s Disability,” in Disability Studies
and Biblical Literature (ed. Candida R. Moss and Jeremy Schipper; New York:
Palgrave Macmillan, 2012), 165–84.
The idea that Christ is put on by, or dwells, in Christians after their
baptism is a central component of emerging Pauline soteriology and
baptismal theology. Tertullian had alluded to baptism as a foundational
element in the Christian’s obligations to God in Ad martyras. Here the
idea is invoked again as a shaming device: Christ dwells in the Christian
after their baptism, yet they Àee from persecution and the devil, thereby
handing themselves over to the devil and rejecting the changes brought
about in them at baptism. The focal point of this passage is not on the
fortifying effects of Christly possession or on the idea that Christ will
¿ght in the martyr. The anthropological change that takes place at
baptism is the physical condition that makes Àight in times of persecu-
tion that much more cowardly.21
Tertullian similarly adapts the notion of post-mortem judgment as a
means of bolstering con¿dence.22 In his efforts to prevent Christians from
lodging lawsuits against one another, Paul had promised the Corinthians
that the “saints would judge the world” (1 Cor 6:2). In Carthage the
phrase soon took on a new meaning as a reference to the post-mortem
expectations of martyrs.23 Tertullian, however, offers a less speci¿c view-
point. In addressing Christians in general, he argues ¿rst, following Paul,
that they will judge the angels and, further, that just as angels should be
feared by evil spirits Christians too have power over evil spirits. Just as
with his use of Pauline baptismal theology and his use of the ¿gure of
Paul in Scorpiace, Tertullian’s interests ultimately lie in his denounce-
ment of Àight in times of persecution.
While Tertullian’s approach to Àight has sharpened in this account, it
is dif¿cult to attribute the sense of urgency in this text to a dogmatic shift
rather than historical necessity. Tertullian’s account is in many ways
21. So Weinrich, Spirit and Martyrdom, 266.

22. Cf. Hermas, Vis. 3.1.9 (martyrs at God’s right hand); Hippolytus, Comm.
Dan. 2.37.4; Cyprian, Ep. 6.2.1; 12.2.1; 15.3; 31.3; Ad Fort. 13.6.42.5. See further
Klaus Berger, Die Auferstehung des Propheten und die Erhöhung des Menschen-
sohnes (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1976), 374 n. 489.
23. See, particularly, the Martyrdom of Marian and James, in which in a vision
the martyr Marian ascends a scaffold and—along with Christ and the executed
Cyprian—appears to participate in the judgment of the dead. In the Passion of
Perpetua and Felicitas the martyrs warn their audience to take note of their faces,
because they would see them again on judgment day. Similar ideas are at work in
other early Christian martyrdom literature, where the expectation is that by accepting
judgment in the earthly tribunal the martyr escaped eschatological judgment. For
discussion, see Arik Greenberg, “My Share of God’s Reward”: Exploring the Roles
and Formulations of the Afterlife in Early Christian Martyrdom (New York: Lang,
2009), and Moss, Other Christs, 142–46.
occasional; he addresses a speci¿c practical issue. Traditional studies

that have seen the Montanists as especially pro-martyrdom and anti-
Àight have tended to give too much credence to later anti-Montanist
histories.24 The evidence suggests that Montanists were not more likely
to volunteer for martyrdom than non-Montanists.25 The reasoning that
has categorized De fuga in persecutione as Montanist (on account of its
pro-martyrdom anti-Àight position) has followed on an outdated stereo-
type of the New Prophecy movement. In fact, Tertullian always opposed
Àight as a last resort for those incapable of confessing Christ and being
martyred. The strengthening of his position in a situation of persecution
does not indicate a radical shift in his thinking about martyrdom and
persecution.
Conclusion
As is the case with all early Christian interpreters, Tertullian’s use of
Paul in his arguments in favor of martyrdom does not follow the patterns
expected by the modern interpreter. Much of the argumentation in favor
of martyrdom uses stock scriptural texts adapted from other martyrologi-
cal texts and apologetic authors. In some cases, where we might expect
to ¿nd extended appeals to a Pauline notion of the Spirit, we ¿nd instead
the Johannine Paraclete. The one explicit discussion of Paul qua martyr
is used in order to subvert a potential or actual Valentinian reading of
Romans. Although the ¿gure of Paul, Pauline notions of suffering as
athletic contest, and Paul’s theology of suffering are utilized by Tertul-
lian, they often oscillate beneath the surface of the text. In contrast,
Tertullian’s textual gestures to Paul often go unmarked and unexplored,
though one consistent element in Tertullian’s use of Paul in his justi¿ca-
tion of martyrdom is the strategic and highly selective use of Paul for the
purposes of shaming his audience. The place where Paul moves to the
fore is in Tertullian’s discussion of God’s role in persecution and
martyrdom. In the development of his idea that God wills persecution as
a means of re¿ning the church, Tertullian uses Paul’s discussion of his
personal suffering in 2 Cor 12 to demonstrate the manner in which God
allows Satan to pursue the saints. That Tertullian uses Paul’s personal
24. See Chapter 6 in Candida R. Moss, Ancient Christian Martyrdom: Diverse

Practices, Theologies, and Traditions (Anchor Yale Reference Library; New Haven:
Yale University Press, 2012), 145–62.
25. William Tabbernee’s work in this area cannot be highly enough recom-
mended. See, particularly, Fake Prophecy and Polluted Sacraments: Ecclesiastical
and Imperial Reactions to Montanism (VCSup 84; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 201–42.
history—as inferred from canonical texts—to combat misreadings of

Paul, is an interesting and distinctive feature of his work.
The development in Tertullian’s perspective on the source of per-
secution and God’s role in the execution of the saints has often been
connected to Tertullian’s interest in the New Prophecy movement. Yet,
as we have seen, the seeds of Tertullian’s thinking on this point can be
located in his earlier non-Montanist writings, are paralleled in other non-
Montanist texts, and can stand alone as a robust theology of persecution.
Assuming that the traditional chronology is correct, there are threads of
tradition that develop consistently from Tertullian’s early to late periods.
While certain ideas—for instance the role of God in persecution—
develop and solidify over the course of his career, there is little reason to
tie this development to his growing interest in the New Prophecy move-
ment. Rather, the subtle changes in Tertullian’s views can be ascribed
to a maturing theology of martyrdom, one tied to the historical reality
of persecution ca. 202/3 C.E. Tertullian’s view of martyrdom develops,
but does not appear to change radically. As Tertullian’s thinking on
martyrdom evolves over time, his use of Paul becomes more strategic,
defensive, and overtly constructive. Whereas in Ad martyras Pauline
topoi are used to exhort Christians to vigilance and endurance, by the end
of his career the ¿gure of Paul is used to construct both an ethic of
resistance to authority and an explicit theology of persecution.
MARTYRDOM AS SACRAMENT:
TERTULLIAN’S (MIS)USE OF “THE APOSTLE” (PAUL)
Todd D. Still
In his martyrological tractates Ad martyras, Scorpiace, and De fuga

in persecutione, Tertullian is at pains to impress upon his recipients
that earthly suffering pales in comparison to heavenly glory. Indeed, the
Carthaginian theologian regards suffering as a Christian duty and con-
tends that persecution and martyrdom are good and divinely wrought
(see, e.g., Scorp. 2; De fug. 4). To buttress what Candida R. Moss
describes as “a well-developed theology of martyrdom” and “a robust
theology of persecution,” Tertullian turns repeatedly to Scripture. Within
the aforementioned documents, he appeals time and again by quotation
and allusion to both the Old and New Testaments in an attempt to
establish his disputed view “that believers are under obligation to suffer
martyrdom” (Scorp. 8).
Unfortunately, the purview of this response precludes a more exhaus-
tive treatment of Tertullian’s use of Scripture in the three writings under
review.1 In what follows, my necessarily modest goal is to consider how
Tertullian employs Paul to achieve his end of buoying beleaguered
believers who may well face the grisly reality of martyrdom while
opposing the perceived deleterious inÀuences of his Christian, primarily
Valentinian, competitors. In so doing, we will discover that even if the
apostle was not Tertullian’s primary resource in formulating and articu-
lating his pro-martyrdom perspective, Paul’s life, letters, and legend may
loom larger than Moss seems to imagine. We will also observe, however,
that Tertullian’s admiration of the apostle did not preclude him from
(unwittingly) altering certain key aspects of Paul’s thought.
1. More generally, see T. P. O’Malley, Tertullian and the Bible: Language,

Imagery, Exegesis (Nijmegen: Dekker & Van de Vegt, 1967).
Employing Paul
Ad martyras
In Tertullian’s earliest martyrological tract, Ad martyras, there is, as
Moss notes, but one direct appeal to Paul (Ad mart. 3).2 In writing to the
“blessed martyrs designate” (Ad mart. 1), Tertullian likens them to
soldiers and athletes who “are about to pass through a noble struggle”
(Ad mart. 3). Unlike those athletes, who in the words of the apostle
compete “that they may obtain a corruptible crown” (1 Cor 9:25), the
imprisoned Christians awaiting trial to whom Tertullian writes have
“the crown eternal” in view and look upon prison as a “training ground”
(Ad mart. 3). These so-called blessed ones are reminded in words
reminiscent of Phil 3:20 that their “citizenship is in heaven” (Ad mart. 3).
Moss thinks it likely that Tertullian derives both “the image of the
rewarded athlete” and “the notion of the Christian as soldier for Christ”
from “the Pauline and deutero-Pauline epistles.” Given the proximity of
these metaphors in 2 Tim 2 and Tertullian’s citations from 2 Timothy in
Scorp. 13, this is a plausible argument. I regard it far less likely, how-
ever, that Moss is on the right Pauline rail when positing a correlation
between Tertullian’s description of the “martyrs designate” as “an odor
of sweetness” (Ad mart. 2) and the joy of which Paul speaks in Phil 1
with respect to his imprisonment. A more probative parallel, it seems to
me, would be 2 Cor 2:14–16, where Paul likens himself and his apostolic
coworkers to “an aroma of Christ to God.” I think it even less probable
that Tertullian’s remarks in Ad mart. 2 regarding walking in the Spirit
with the mind in the heavens are best understood as an “exegetically
grounded exhortation to the imprisoned” based upon “Pauline notions
of the spirit” found in such texts as 2 Cor 5:1 and 12:2–4 (cf. Col 3:2).
In the unlikely event that Tertullian is engaged in Pauline exegesis in
Ad mart. 2, then it would be more likely that he would have in view a
passage like Rom 8:1–11 (cf. Scorp. 13; see also Gal 5:16–18).
Speaking of the Spirit relative to the “blessed,” we do well to note
Tertullian’s citation of (or perhaps allusion to) the admonition found in
Eph 4:30: “Grieve not the Holy Spirit” (Ad mart. 1). Whereas the
“Ephesians” are said to be marked by the Spirit as “with a seal for the
day of redemption” (Eph 4:30), Tertullian encourages the imprisoned
2. Andrew M. Bain (“Tertullian: Paul as Teacher of the Gentile Churches,” in

Paul and the Second Century [ed. Michael F. Bird and Joseph R. Dodson; LNTS
412; London: T&T Clark International, 2011], 207–25 [217]) suggests it “is sur-
prising…that more is not made of Paul’s example of and teaching on martyrdom [in
Ad martyras], given the emphasis that Tertullian gives this elsewhere [noting esp.
Scorpiace and De fuga in persecutione].”
STILL Martyrdom as Sacrament 121
to retain the Spirit who sustains and leads them. It may also be in
Ad mart. 1 that Tertullian alludes to Rom 16:20a (“The God of peace
will shortly crush Satan under your feet”) when he speaks of the martyrs
designate “trampling the wicked one under foot” and that the language
of “defections or dissensions among themselves” echoes 1 Cor 1:10
(“…that you all be in agreement and that there be no divisions among
you…”).
Scorpiace
Although Pauline letters feature in Ad martyras more than other Scrip-
tures, the apostle’s letters and life are more prominent still in Tertullian’s
Scorpiace, wherein the apologist polemicizes against “the views of the
Valentinians who apparently claimed that martyrdom was unnecessary”
(Scorp. 1.8). With respect to Paul’s letters, Tertullian gives them pride
of place in chs. 7, 13, and 14. In Scorp. 7, he not only cites Rom 8:32
and 11:34 (cf. 1 Cor 1:18–31) but he also alludes to Rom 4:25 (cf. Titus
2:14) to support his pro-martyrdom stance and to counter his detractors.
Turning to ch. 13, it is comprised almost entirely of a catena of citations
from 2 Thessalonians (1:4–5), Romans (5:3; 8:17, 35–38), 2 Corinthians
(11:23; 12:10; 4:8–10, 16), Philippians (1:29–30; 2:17 [erroneously
referred to by Tertullian as Thessalonians]), and 2 Timothy (4:6–8; 2:11–
13; 1:7). Lastly, in Scorp. 14, Tertullian turns his learned attention to a
text that had become a problem for his position vis-à-vis martyrdom—
Rom 13. Appealing to Matt 22:21 (“Render to Caesar…”; so also Matt
10:37) for support, he contextualizes the apostle’s (and “Peter’s” [note
1 Pet 2:17: “Honor the emperor…]) instructions and contends that peo-
ple are “the property of God alone” and that “one will not be permitted
to love even life more than God.”
In addition, one is able to ascertain allusions to the apostle’s writings
when Tertullian speaks of: “Christians who veer about with the wind”
(cf. Scorp. 1 [and Scorp. 11, “wind of reasoning”] with Eph 4:14 [“We
must no longer be children, tossed to and fro and blown about by every
wind of doctrine, by people’s trickery, by their craftiness in deceitful
scheming]); God bringing forth “skills and rules…into public view…
to be seen by men, and angels, and all powers” (cf. Scorp. 6 with 1 Cor
4:1 [“(W)e have become a spectacle to the world, to angels and to
mortals”]); “one star…differ[ing] from another star in glory” (cf. Scorp.
6 with 1 Cor 15:41 [“There is…another glory of the stars; indeed, star
differs from star in glory”]); and “the third race” (cf. Scorp. 10 with
1 Cor 10:32 [“Give no offense to Jews or to Greeks or to the church of
God”]). Tertullian’s indebtedness to Paul’s letters may also be evidenced
by his citation of Ps 32:1–2 in Scorp. 6, as this passage is cited by Paul in
Rom 4:7–8, and by his reporting in Scorp. 3, as does Paul in 1 Cor 10:8,
that “twenty-three thousand” Israelites died for attaching themselves to
the Baal of Peor. (Numbers 25:9 indicates that twenty-four thousand died
by the plague. Cf. Josh 22:17–18; Ps 106:28–31; cf. also Num 26:62.)
Beyond citations from and allusions to Paul’s letters, Tertullian refers
to various episodes in Paul’s life as he seeks to establish his belief that
“martyrdom is good” (Scorp. 5).3 If references to the apostle’s viper bite
on Malta (Acts 28:3 in Scorp. 1), “participation in (the joys) of paradise”
(2 Cor 12:2–4 in Scorp. 11), and persecutory activity (Scorp. 13)4 are
cursory and seemingly inconsequential, the same is not true of Tertul-
lian’s repeated references to his (purported) martyrdom. Tertullian ¿rst
mentions Paul’s martyrdom in passing at the outset of Scorp. 12. Armed
with extracanonical traditions, he returns to the topic in ch. 15 to report
that Nero beheaded Paul in Rome.5 According to Tertullian, “Paul
obtain[ed] a birth suited to Roman citizenship, when in Rome he
[sprung] to life again ennobled by martyrdom” (Scorp. 15). Addition-
ally, he employs a story recorded in Acts 21:7–14 where Paul, despite
Agabus’s gloomy prophecy and pleas of believers in Caesarea to the
contrary, journeys on to Jerusalem declaring that he is “ready not only to
be bound but even to die” (Acts 21:13). For Tertullian, this episode
indicates that Paul had “a mind to illustrate what he had always taught”
(Scorp. 15). It is from “the apostle,” who speaks (it is said) “in favor of
martyrdoms” by both precept and practice, that Tertullian learns to suffer
(Scorp. 13; 15).
The foregoing considerations lead me to question whether Tertullian’s
“appeal to Paul as martyrological exemplar is [simply] an expedient
rhetorical move designed to undermine Paul’s own writings” and whether
Paul appears in Scorpiace “only in situations where the legacy of Paul
himself is being contested and reinterpreted in polemical contexts.” I am
3. Ronald D. Sider (“Literary Arti¿ce and the Figure of Paul in the Writings of
Tertullian,” in Paul and the Legacies of Paul [ed. William S. Babcock; Dallas, Tex.:
Southern Methodist University Press, 1990], 99–120 [100]) maintains, “In the
literary art and rhetorical design of Tertullian, the life of Paul can be as important as
his thought.”
4. Cf. 1 Cor 15:9; Gal 1:13, 23; Phil 3:6; 1 Tim 1:13. See also Acts 8:3; 9:1, 21;
22:4; 26:10–11. Tertullian goes “beyond what is written” (1 Cor 4:6) when he states
that Paul was a former persecutor who “shed the blood of the church” as a “ravening
wolf of Benjamin” (note Gen 49:27) with “sword” and “dagger.”
5. On Paul as martyr in the early church, see Calvin J. Roetzel, Paul: The Man
and the Myth (Columbia, S.C.: University of South Carolina Press, 1998), 170–76.
See now also David L. Eastman, Paul the Martyr: The Cult of the Apostle in the
Latin West (Atlanta: SBL, 2011).
also left to wonder whether Paul’s letters and life are more important to
the formation of Tertullian’s theology of martyrdom than Moss suggests.
For Tertullian, Paul was not only “an apostle” (Scorp. 13) and “servant
of God” (Scorp. 15), he was “the apostle” (e.g., Ad mart. 3; Scorp. 1; 7
[twice]; 14; 15; De fug. 2.8, 9; 10.1). Even though Tertullian acknowl-
edged Paul as the haereticorum apostolus (“apostle of the heretics”),6 he
nonetheless regarded him “to be as much mine as the Christ is” (Adv.
Marc. 5.1).7
De fuga in persecutione
What is true, as I see it, in Ad martyras and Scorpiace is no less true in
De fuga in persecutione, namely, Paul’s letters and life are part of the
warp and woof of Tertullian’s argumentation. In seeking to impress
upon a certain Fabius that “persecution proceeds from God” and that
“what proceeds from God ought not to…be avoided…because it is good”
(De fug. 4.1), Tertullian ¿nds “the apostle” to be a very present help
in time of need. Indeed, I would argue that Paul is foundational for
Tertullian as he seeks to set forth his opinion “in answer and encourage-
ment” (De fug. 12.1) regarding the shunning of persecution and the
paying of bribes to avoid the same.
As Moss notes, Tertullian appeals to the Pauline pairings of strength/
weakness (see 2 Cor 12:9) and foolishness/wisdom (note 1 Cor 1:27–28)
in an effort to establish that “persecution comes to pass, no question, by
the devil’s agency, but not by the devil’s origination” (De fug. 2.2).
Tertullian holds that both “the shaking of faith by the devil” and “the
shielding of faith by the Son…belong to God.” In maintaining as much,
he appeals to both Job and Peter (De fug. 2.3). As he continues to reÀect
upon the devil’s involvement in testing “the household of God” (see Eph
2:19), he notes the “stake” sent by Satan to buffet “the apostle” (2 Cor
12:9). He also refers to Paul’s delivering “Phygellus and Hermogenes
over to Satan that by chastening they might be taught not to blaspheme”
(De fug. 2.8–9; see 2 Tim 1:15; cf. 1 Tim 1:20).
To combat those who appeal to the apostles’ example of Àeeing “from
city to city” (Matt 10:23), Tertullian turns once again to Paul (in Acts)
(De fug. 6). It is true, Tertullian concedes, that in turning to the Gentiles
and preaching to the nations (Acts 13:46) “the apostle” did on one
6. See Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 3.5.

7. So rightly Mark W. Elliott, “The Triumph of Paulinism by the Mid-Third
Century,” in Paul and the Second Century, 244–56 (on 250). Cf. Judith M. Lieu,
“ ‘As much my apostle as Christ is mine’: The Dispute Over Paul Between Tertullian
and Marcion,” Early Christianity 1 (2010): 41–59.
occasion submit by command “to deliverance from persecution by being

let down from the wall” (see Acts 9:25; cf. 2 Cor 11:32–33). However,
Tertullian assures, “the command to Àee was temporary” for both Paul
and the other apostles. This is evidenced by Paul’s unwillingness to give
into the “anxieties of the disciples” and forego a foreboding trip to
Jerusalem, where he would be persecuted in accordance with Agabus’s
prophecy (Acts 21:7–14; cf. Scorp. 15). So signi¿cant was this episode
from Acts to Tertullian’s argument against those who advocated Àeeing
from persecution or buying off persecutors, he mentions it yet again in
De fug. 12.10, this time in conjunction with the claim in Acts that Felix
hoped Paul would give him money (cf. Acts 24:10). The lesson Tertul-
lian draws from these experiences of Paul in Acts is that even as the
apostle suffered for the Lord so too should believers, as taught by John,
be prepared to lay down their lives for Christ and for fellow Christians
(De fug. 12.10).
As he continues to push back against those who would make the
command “to Àee from city to city” prescriptive (De fug. 9–10),
Tertullian (re)turns to clarify and capitalize upon Paul. He insists that
Paul’s call to “support the weak” (1 Thess 5:14) has nothing whatsoever
to do with supporting those who Àee. Likewise, the apostle’s admonition
to “comfort the faint-hearted” does not suggest “they should be sent into
exile” (De fug. 9.2). Additionally, Tertullian propounds in De fug. 9.2
that Paul’s exhortation “not to give place to evil” (Eph 4:27) by no
means indicates “that we should take to our heels” any more than when
he states “time must be redeemed because the days are evil” (Eph 5:16)
he intends that life be lengthened “by Àight” instead of “by wisdom.”
Rather, Tertullian notes that Paul “bids us shine as sons of light” (1 Thess
5:5), “to stand steadfast” (1 Cor 15:58), and “points out weapons” in
general and “notes the shield” in particular (Eph 5:16) so that believers
will not “hide away out of sight as sons of darkness,” will not Àee and
“play the fugitive or oppose the gospel,” and will not “run away” but
“resist [the devil] and sustain his assaults in their utmost force.”
Although Pauline allusions litter De fuga in persecutione (e.g., Eph
6:12 [“struggle not against Àesh and blood…”] at De fug. 1.5; Phil 3:14
[“the prize”] at De fug. 1.5; 1 Cor 10:22 [“stronger than God”] at De fug.
4.4; Rom 8:32 [“spared not his own son”] and Gal 3:13 [“…made a curse
for us, because cursed is he that hangs on a tree”] at De fug. 12.3; 1 Tim
6:1 [“rich toward God”] at De fug. 12.8; and 2 Cor 12:2 [“betrothed
virgin”] at De fug. 14.2), the other pastiche of Pauline allusions appears
in ch. 10. There, in rapid succession, Tertullian seeks to encourage
persecuted Christians not to shrink back, for they will “judge angels”
(1 Cor 6:3). What is more, they are “Christ-clothed” (Rom 13:14) and
“have been baptized into Christ” (Gal 3:27), even as “Christ is in [them]”
(Col 1:27).
Imitating and Distorting Paul

While I am inclined to think that Tertullian’s use of Paul in these docu-
ments is more pervasive and constructive than my Patristics colleague
from Notre Dame suggests,8 I ¿nd her conclusion that Tertullian’s
martyrological tractates are occasional pieces which reveal a maturing,
developing theology of martyrdom, but not a theology that changes
radically over time, to be convincing.9 To the extent that Tertullian acts
in the tracts under discussion as an occasional, contextual theologian
who employs Scripture to support and solidify his arguments, he is
following in the footsteps of the apostle he so admired.10
That being said, Tertullian simultaneously espouses theological per-
spectives in these tracts that his hero would (forcefully) oppose. For
example, Paul would eschew the unmitigated body–soul dualism
embraced by Tertullian, even as he would the anticipated gradations in
heaven(ly reward) that the Carthaginian theologian envisions. The
apostle would also be made to wonder, I ¿gure, why Tertullian, who
makes so much of his life and letters, does not make more of his oft-
repeated convictions regarding the proclamation and progress of the
gospel, human depravity and responsibility, the unity and purity of the
Christian community, and the resurrection hope.
8. Bain (“Tertullian,” 223) observes, “Tertullian’s use of Paul is selective and

frequently limited. However, this is not because of a lack of familiarity with the
Pauline corpus, or with some parts of it, relative to other sections of Scripture.” He
continues, “[Tertullian] is capable of engaging with Paul at great length and depth…
and of ranging dexterously and even, we might say, reÀexively across virtually all of
Paul’s writings…”
9. In his groundbreaking volume Paul the Apostle: The Triumph of God in Life
and Thought (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1980), J. Christiaan Beker described Paul’s
hermeneutic as both contingent and coherent. This construct might be of value to
Tertullian scholars in examining and explaining his thought. Geoffrey D. Dunn
(“Tertullian’s Scriptural Exegesis in de praescriptione haereticorum,” JECS 14
[2006]: 141–55 [155]) remarks, “[For Tertullian,] the method of hermeneutics was
not as important as its results being in conformity with his appreciation of
Christianity. [T]he Scriptures were to be interpreted in whatever way best supported
the faith believed and lived by the Christian community.”
10. Bain (“Tertullian,” 223) notes that in Tertullian’s “practical works” “his
choice of Pauline texts is consistently tied to his own aims or at least those relevant
passages ¿xed on by his opponents.”
Second Peter 3:16 contends that the “ignorant and unstable twist to
their own destruction” the hard-to-understand letters of Paul. While
Tertullian was neither ignorant nor unstable (although he thought of his
Valentinian opponents as such!), he did manage to distort various views
of Paul set forth by the apostle in his letters-turned-Scriptures. Ironically,
not a few of Paul’s Jewish contemporaries thought that the Apostle to the
Gentiles mangled their Bible.
We, who seek to read Paul and Tertullian at such remove, are no less
susceptible as we gaze through spectacles darkened by time and sub-
jectivity. Be that as it may, if I have managed to read Moss with the
sympathetic insight with which she reads Tertullian and Tertullian reads
Paul, then this hermeneutical, interdisciplinary exercise may well spawn
additional, valuable conversation regarding the North African’s (mis)use
of Paul and Scripture in developing and communicating his views on
persecution and martyrdom, which were far more than theoretical for
him and those to whom he wrote.
6
STATUS FEMINAE:
TERTULLIAN AND THE USES OF PAUL
Elizabeth A. Clark
Introduction
While Protestant commentators since the Reformation have lauded
Paul’s message of “Christian freedom,” Tertullian, when writing on
women, mined the Pauline Epistles to promote Christianity as “disci-
pline.”1 His stringent interpretation of 1 Corinthians and the Pastoral
Epistles, which seeks to temper and restrict women’s behavior, shows
him a consummate master of “close reading.”2 Shaping his exegetical
principles to ¿t the situations of his addressees (real or ¿ctive) and his
argumentative aims,3 Tertullian crafts ethical directives that would set
1. On Christianity as disciplina in Tertullian, see Cahal B. Daly, Tertullian the

Puritan and His InÀuence: An Essay in Historical Theology (Dublin: Four Courts
Press, 1993), 6, with numerous references.
2. On Tertullian’s reading of 1 Cor 7, see René Braun, “Tertullien et l’exégèse de
I Cor. 7,” in Approches de Tertullien: Vingt-six études sur l’auteur et sur l’oeuvre
(1955–1990) (Paris: Institut d’Etudes Augustiniennes, 1992), 111–18. (Tertullian
moves from “correcting” Marcion to approximating his position.) For the Fathers’
engagement with “close reading” to champion asceticism, see Elizabeth A. Clark,
Reading Renunciation: Asceticism and Scripture in Early Christianity (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1999), 118–22; on the exegesis of 1 Cor 7, see 259–329.
3. For Tertullian’s rules of interpretation, see Heinrich Karpp, Schrift und Geist
bei Tertullians (BFCT 44; Güterloh: Bertelsmann, 1955), 26–29. On aims: when
Tertullian argues against Marcion, he tightly links the Old Testament and the New
Testament and proclaims “one God” as author of both; against Valentinians, he
chooses biblical passages that commend the Àeshly body in contrast to verses he
selects in his more rigorously ascetic treatises or in statements pertaining to torture
and martyrdom for Christ’s sake (De cul. fem. 2.3.3 [CCSL 1.356], alluding to 1 Cor
10:24 and 13:5; Phil 2:4). On the relation of the two books of De cultu feminarum,
see Braun, “Le problème des deux livres du De cultu feminarum de Tertullien,” in
Approches de Tertullien, 147–56. (Book 2 is a recycled sermon.) On rhetorical
devices in De cultu feminarum, see Robert D. Sider, Ancient Rhetoric and the Art of
Tertullian (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971), 102–3, 107, 120.
Christian women on the narrow path. On one point only does Tertullian
accord women more “liberty” than we might expect: his acknowledg-
ment that they offer authoritative prophecy. Both this expansion of
female opportunity and his limitation of it in other contexts ¿nd their
basis in Paul’s writings.
Reading for Rigor

Although Tertullian proclaims “transgression in interpretation is not
lighter than in conversation,”4 he himself is skilled in hermeneutical
manipulation. Deploying various exegetical and rhetorical techniques,5
he turns the Bible into a treasure-trove for those pressing a “harder” type
of Christianity that the Paraclete reveals “to those able to bear the full
burden of Christian discipleship.”6 His adoption of the New Prophecy
con¿rmed the ascetic views he promoted in his earlier works, while
shifting his focus from doctrine to “discipline.”7
The writings of Paul (and those Tertullian ascribed to Paul8) provide
the biblically centered base for his instruction and “correction” of
4. De pud. 9.22 (CCSL 2.1299).

5. Sider argues that Tertullian’s exegetical principles ¿nd “their true home in his
rhetorical background” (Ancient Rhetoric, 9); I look also to his argumentative goals.
Tertullian in his later works, T. P. O’Malley argues, often appeals to non-scriptural
norms: to the Rule of Faith, tradition, and the (Montanist) Paraclete, who becomes a
“refuge” and “simple solution to the problem of interpretation” (Tertullian and the
Bible: Language, Imagery, Exegesis [Nijmegen: Dekker & Van de Vegt, 1967], 134,
178).
6. William Tabbernee, Fake Prophecy and Polluted Sacraments: Ecclesiasti-
cal and Imperial Reactions to Montanism (VCSup 84; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 416.
Montanism was “a diverse prophetic movement intent on bringing Christianity into
line with what it believed to be the ultimate revelation of the Spirit through the New
Prophets” (164; similarly, 388, 418). Tabbernee emphasizes the ethical dimension of
the new revelation.
7. Eric Osborn, Tertullian, First Theologian of the West (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1997), 210; cf. Michel Spanneut, Tertullien et les premiers
moralistes africains (Gembloux: Duculot; Paris: Lethielleux, 1969), 36, 46, 48;
David Rankin, Tertullian and the Church (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1995), 200. For proposed dates for Tertullian’s treatises, see Timothy D. Barnes,
Tertullian: A Historical and Literary Study (rev. ed.; Oxford: Clarendon, 1985), 55.
Barnes notes that Tertullian in his later “Montanist” works abandoned “persuasion”
and attacks in an “aggressive and abusive fashion” (139).
8. That is, the deutero-Pauline and Pastoral Epistles. Tertullian sometimes
deploys the Pastorals to contrary ends. In De cul. fem. 2.9.7 (CCSL 1.363–64), for
example, he exalts the coming era in which Christians will embrace “eunuchhood”
and abstain from “the creatures of God,” signs of “deceitful spirits” in 1 Tim 4:1–5.
CLARK Status Feminae 129
Christian women. Tertullian presses the Pauline dichotomies—lawful

vs. expedient, milk vs. solid food, slave vs. free, Àesh vs. spirit—to
rhetorical extremes.9 He skillfully transposes Pauline arguments regard-
ing “the strong” and “the weak”10 to contrast the laxity of “Psychics”
with the strength of Christians who embrace the New Prophecy—
although Tertullian exhibits far less concern (and far more scorn) for “the
weak” than had Paul. To appropriate Paul’s teaching in the most asceti-
cally rigorous fashion is Tertullian’s (unannounced) aim.
Five interpretive techniques appear so frequently in these writings
of Tertullian that they deserve special mention. The ¿rst links moral
evaluation with a contrast between “commands” and (mere) “permis-
sions.” What the Bible merely “permits” or “concedes”—variously,
marriage and second marriage—cannot, in Tertullian’s view, be called
“good.”11 This argument is bolstered by a second, perhaps drawn from
Old Stoic teaching, that allows no intermediate category between “good”
and “evil.” If “touching a woman” (1 Cor 7:1) is “not good,” then it must
be “evil.”12 Marriage, which Paul conceded was more desirable than
“burning” (1 Cor 7:9), cannot on that account be labeled “good.”13
Another exegetical principle links a silence or absence within a text to
authorial intent: “absence” conveys a message. Thus, Tertullian argues,
when Paul fails to differentiate categories (e.g., “virgins” from “women”
in 1 Cor 11:5–6), he intends that the same requirement (of veiling) apply
to both.14 Another example: the fact that Gen 2 does not originally name
9. This is also a feature of his rhetoric. See Sider, Ancient Rhetoric, 22. Osborn
remarks, Tertullian has “an Heraclitean respect for opposites” (Tertullian, xvi), and
concludes, “ConÀict is his life; opposites are his reality; and paradox is his intel-
lectual delight” (256).
10. For some important discussions, see Gerd Theissen, The Social Setting of
Pauline Christianity: Essays on Corinth (trans. John H. Schütz; Philadelphia:
Fortress, 1982), esp. Chapter 3 (“The Strong and the Weak in Corinth”); Wayne A.
Meeks, The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle Paul (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1983), 68–70; and concerning asceticism, Dale B.
Martin, The Corinthian Body (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995), 205–8.
11. Ad ux. 1.3.4–5 (CCSL 1.376); De mon. 3.3–4 (CCSL 2.1231). For rhetori-
cal strategies in Ad uxorem, see Sider, Ancient Rhetoric, 109, 117; Jean-Claude
Fredouille, Tertullien et la conversion de la culture antique (Paris: Etudes Augusti-
niennes, 1972), 105–6 (arguments de utilitate and de honesto).
12. De mon. 3.4–5 (CCSL 2.1231).
13. De exh. cast. 3.8–10 (CCSL 2.1020). Tertullian here takes “burning” as a
penalty, presumably hell¿re. On rhetorical devices in De exhortatione castitatis, see
Sider, Ancient Rhetoric, 107; Fredouille, Tertullien, 109–28.
14. De virg. vel. 4.2 (CCSL 2.1212): in this case, when Paul in 1 Cor 11 does not
differentiate between “women” and “virgins,” as he did in 1 Cor 7, it means all are
the ¿rst woman “Eve” (“mother of the living”), the wording shows that
“woman” constitutes a category distinct from “wife.”15 Likewise,
Scripture’s silence regarding rampant polygamy in humanity’s early
days, or wives of Jesus’ disciples (excepting Peter), forbids us to imagine
such.16 That no explicit divine approval is mentioned for second marriage
in the Gospels and Pauline Epistles implies that God disallowed it.17
Here, “lack” or “absence” drives rigor.
A fourth argument concerns the “voice” behind a biblical passage.
Here, Paul’s differentiation of “voices” in 1 Cor 7 proved highly useful
for Tertullian’s purposes: was the “voice” that of God or Jesus or that of
a (mere) human, Paul?18 Thus, Tertullian argues that while “Christ”
himself commanded the veiling of women in church,19 Paul pronounced
the “concession” for marriage.20 Yet when Paul claims to channel the
voice of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor 7:40), he acquires semi-divine authority.21
Citing the words of the Corinthian ascetics (“it is good for a man not to
touch a woman” [1 Cor 7:2]) as the apostle’s own, Tertullian makes Paul
the champion of a highly rigorous asceticism.22
A last type of exegetical appeal contrasts the “new” and the “old.”23 As
Anne Jensen notes, while Tertullian endorsed (allegedly) unchanging
included in the general category. On rhetorical strategies De virginibus velandis, see

Sider, Ancient Rhetoric, 103, 112–13.
15. De virg. vel. 5.1–5 (CCSL 2.1213–15), alluding to Gen 2:22–23; 3:20.
16. De mon. 4.4; 8.4 (CCSL 2.1233, 1239). On “silence” as a principle, see
O’Malley, Tertullian, 130. For rhetorical strategies in De monogomia, see Sider,
Ancient Rhetoric, 32, 34, 37, 95; Fredouille, Tertullien, 128–42. Fredouille argues
that Tertullian’s rhetorical training had prepared him, long before his move to
Montanism, to prefer “imperative” and “prohibitive” texts to those that “tolerate” or
“permit” (Tertullien, 117).
17. De exh. cast. 4.2 (CCSL 2.1021).
18. For patristic writers’ appeal to “voice” to further asceticism, see Clark,
Reading Renunciation, 141–45.
19. De virg. vel. 16.4 (CCSL 2.1225); the Corinthian church, he proclaims, to
this day veils its virgins (De virg. vel. 8.4 [CCSL 2.1218]).
20. De exh. cast. 3.6 (CCSL 2.1019).
21. De exh. cast. 4.6 (CCSL 2.1022); De mon. 3.6 (CCSL 2.1232): thus widows
will be happier remaining unmarried.
22. On Paul’s desire to moderate the Corinthians’ extreme asceticism, see
Margaret Y. MacDonald, Early Christian Women and Pagan Opinion: The Power of
the Hysterical Woman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 133, 138.
23. See the discussion in Fredouille, Tertullien, 290–97; the vetera-nova contrast
becomes for Tertullian “a veritable category of thought” (297). On Tertullian’s
working of “new” and “old” in relation to Roman religion, see Mark S. Burrows,
“Christianity in the Roman Forum: Tertullian and the Apologetic Use of History,”
VC 42 (1988): 209–35.
articles of faith, on moral questions he could champion innovation when

doing so promoted ascetic rigor.24 Although Tertullian faults his
opponents as inconsistent (they accuse adherents of the New Prophecy of
adhering to ancient practice, but then condemn them for introducing
novelty25), he too can work the vetera-nova argument to ¿t his own ends.
Sometimes Tertullian exalts the “new”: since the old creation has
passed away and the new has come (cf. 2 Cor 5:17), Christians may not
cite Old Testament provisions that might justify “laxity.”26 Recommen-
dations and commands given in the New Testament trump earlier ones,
and those given by the Paraclete carry still greater authority.27 Thus,
Moses allowed divorce and Christ abrogated it, but the Paraclete’s reve-
lation supercedes even what Paul allowed (namely, second marriage).28
The divine economy prudently corrects what has gone before.29
But Tertullian also insists, and in other than his anti-Marcionite writ-
ings, that the New Testament does not render the Old Testament obsolete.
The Hebrew Law remains in its essentials; the two Testaments are one.30
The Paraclete’s insistence on strict monogamy, for example, cannot be
dismissed as a “novelty,” since Paul’s (allegedly) similar teaching on
marriage pre-dates Tertullian’s own era by about 160 years.31 Indeed,
the Paraclete merely restores the monogamy of Adam and Eve, not
24. Anne Jensen, God’s Self-Con¿dent Daughters: Early Christianity and the
Liberation of Women (trans. O. C. Dean Jr.; Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John
Knox, 1996), 145, 150, 181. Also see Braun, Approches de Tertullien, 48 (“Tertullien
et le Montanisme”), on the “progressive perfection of disciplina from Adam to the
extremitas temporum” in Tertullian; and Fredouille, Tertullien, 294–95. Otto Kuss
notes three versions of the Rule of Faith: De prae. haer. 13, De virg. vel. 1, and Adv.
Prax. 2 (“Zur Hermeneutik Tertullians,” in Neutestamentliche Aufsätze: Festschrift
für Prof. Josef Schmid zum 70. Geburtstag [ed. J. Blinzler, O. Kuss, and F. Mussner;
Regensburg: Friedrich Pustet, 1963], 147–49, 155–56).
25. De iei. 14.4 (CCSL 2.1273).
26. De pud. 6.1–2 (CCSL 2.1289). For Tabbernee, Montanists were ahead of
their time in creating new forms of ministry, “a new future” (Fake Prophesy, 388,
422–23).
27. De exh. cast. 6.1–3 (CCSL 2.1023–24): Paul’s advice to “have wives as if
not” (1 Cor 7:29) supercedes “reproduce and multiply” (Gen 1:28).
28. De mon. 14.3 (CCSL 2.1249); see Cecil M. Robeck Jr., Prophecy in
Carthage: Perpetua, Tertullian, and Cyprian (Cleveland: Pilgrim, 1992), 142.
30. De mon. 8.1 (CCSL 2.1239); De iei. 2–3 (CCSL 2.1258–60); see the
discussion in O’Malley, Tertullian, 125.
31. De mon. 3.8–9 (CCSL 2.1232). Here, Paul is grouped among the “lax.”
Tertullian adds that the Paraclete “comforts” by not requiring absolute continence. In
De mon. 3.10 (CCSL 2.1232–33), he appeals to Rom 8:26: the Spirit “helps us in our
weakness” (i.e., by allowing marriage).
demanding of Christians in consideration of human weakness a return to

their original virginity. Here, Tertullian insists, there is no “innovation.”32
He cites biblical passages for support: Rev 1:8 (Alpha rolls on to Omega;
then Omega rolls back to Alpha)33 and Eph 1:10 (all things are to be
recalled back to their beginning in Christ).34 In some cases, he claims, the
seemingly new does not differ from the decrees of old. These argumenta-
tive props support Tertullian’s advocacy of rigorous standards regarding
women and marriage.
What is a “Woman”?
Immediately a question arises: what counts as “woman”? Are the
church’s virgins “women”? Among Tertullian’s sparring-partners (real or
imagined) were those who argued that the virgins of the church consti-
tuted a different class from that of the “women.” As a consequence,
Paul’s insistence on women’s head-coverings during worship (1 Cor
11:3–16) did not apply to virgins. The virgins, they argued, need not be
veiled; unlike married women, they were free to be “servants” (ancillae)
of the Lord alone (cf. 1 Cor 7:34).35
Tertullian will have none of this reasoning. He retorts that since
“virgins” here constitute a sub-set of “women,” the two groups share a
“community of condition”: the virgins must be veiled.36 Those who argue
that “woman” refers only to those females who have “known a man”
forget that Eve at her creation as a virgin was called a “woman” (Gen
2:22–23)37 and that Paul in Gal 4:4 classi¿es Mary the mother of Jesus as
32. De mon. 4.1–2 (CCSL 2.1233). Noah and his sons stand as examples. In
De mon. 4.5 (CCSL 2.1233), Tertullian goes back to Adam and Eve. Human history
thereafter was a “progressive degradation”; to return to the beginning through total
chastity is desirable. See Claude Rambaux, Tertullien face aux morales des trois
premiers siècles (Paris: Société d’Edition “Les Belles Lettres,” 1979), 225–27.
33. De mon. 5.2 (CCSL 2.1234).
34. De mon. 11.4 (CCSL 2.1244). Osborn (Tertullian, 8) claims that “recapitu-
lation” is “the golden thread” running through Tertullian’s thought.
35. De virg. vel. 3.1–2; 4.1 (CCSL 2.1211–12); De or. 21.1–4 (CCSL 1.268).
The implication: the veil signals subjection to a man.
36. De virg. vel. 4.2 (CCSL 2.1212–13); all “women” are “the glory of man”
(De virg. vel. 7.2 [CCSL 2.1216]). Tertullian insists that the entire head constitutes
“woman,” and hence the veil must cover her neck (De virg. vel. 17.1–2 [CCSL
2.1225–26]). Thomas Schirrmacher attempts (unsuccessfully) to show that it was
Paul’s opponents in Corinth, not Paul, who favored veiling. See Paul in ConÀict with
the Veil: An Alternative Interpretation of 1 Corinthians 11:2–16 (trans. Cambron
Teupe; 5th Ger. ed; Nürnberg: VTR, n.d.).
37. De virg. vel. 5.1; 8.2 (CCSL 2.1213–14, 1217–18); De or. 22.1 (CCSL
1.269).
a “woman,” despite her virginal conception.38 “Woman,” in other words,

occupies a larger category than “wife.”39 Tertullian concedes that
although the Greek language is “careless” in offering just one word
(gynƝ) to serve for both “woman” and “wife,” “we” (Latin-speaking
Christians?) know to differentiate them. There are cases where this
distinction matters: Tertullian is sure that the apostles of 1 Cor 9:5–6 did
not take “wives” around with them.40 Yet the question remains: At what
age is a female classi¿ed as a “woman” and hence required to veil? From
the time that she becomes sexually desirable, Tertullian answers: from
the age at which the “daughters of men” of Gen 6 invited the concupis-
cence of the “angels,” the “sons of God.” Female infants, he concedes,
do not yet count as “women” and hence need not be veiled at birth.41
In yet another way, Tertullian assumes that all females are “women.”
Despite his acknowledgment that women have the same “angelic nature”
and the same hope of reward as men,42 it was convenient for his
rhetorical purposes to stress their propensity to sin. All females, as
“women,” stand in the genealogical line of sinful Eve. To atone for her
sin that doomed the human race (“men”), Christian women should not
seek adornment, but rather spend their lives in shabby clothing, devoid of
cosmetics and ornamentation. In his arguably most celebrated line,
Tertullian asks of his (probably ¿ctive) female audience, “Do you not
know that you are the devil’s gateway?”43 On this topic, it was conven-
ient to overlook Paul’s claim that through one man, Adam, sin entered
the world (Rom 5:12). To Paul’s assumption of gender hierarchy in the
here-and-now, Tertullian adds the teaching of 1 Tim 2:14 that Eve was
38. De virg. vel. 6.1 (CCSL 2.1215).

39. De virg. vel. 5.3 (CCSL 2.1214).
40. De mon. 8.4–5 (CCSL 2.1239), but in De exh. cast. 8.3 (CCSL 2.1027), he
implies that they were “wives.” Tertullian urges readers to imitate Paul, who did not
“use this right.”
41. De virg. vel. 11.1–5 (CCSL 2.1220–21). Tertullian appeals to Rebecca (Gen
24:64–65), who veiled herself as soon as her future husband was pointed out to her,
as if already she had forfeited her virginity. He cites Roman law on the age at which
girls might marry: 12. Similar arguments are in Tertullian, De or. 22.10 (CCSL
1.271). See further below on the angels of Gen 6.
42. De cul. fem. 2.5 (CCSL 1.346).
43. De cul. fem. 1.1.2–3 (CCSL 1.343–44). F. Forrester Church hopes to correct
“misconceptions” about Tertullian’s views on women (“Sex and Salvation in
Tertullian,” HTR 68 [1975]: 83–101). By contrast, Marie Turcan ¿nds the only
example of women deemed good without quali¿cation are aged, widowed mothers,
as in De virg. vel. 9.3 (“Etre femme selon Tertullien,” Vita Latina 119 [1990]: 15–21
[16]).
the ¿rst sinner.44 Although not all adult women are “wives,” all are
“women,” and hence bear the curse and sin of Eve.
Differentiating Women
Although when Tertullian urges virgins as “women” to cover their heads
or chastises women as daughters of Eve, he presses female similarity, in
many other passages he differentiates women by their statuses: Christian
virgins, married women, and widows.45 Here, he ¿nds ample assistance
in Paul’s writings.
Virgins Dedicated to God

Perpetual virginity stands as the superior status for all humans.46 On this
point, Tertullian appeals without ambiguity to Paul, whose preference
for virginity was clear (1 Cor 7:7). Had Paul not written (according to
Tertullian), “It is ‘best’ (optimum)—not merely ‘good’ (kalos/bonum)—
not to touch a woman” (1 Cor 7:1)?47
Tertullian also endorsed the eschatological expectation that underlay
Paul’s encouragement of virginity and celibacy. He, too, believed that
the “straits of the times” recommend virginity,48 canceling the Old Testa-
ment command to “reproduce and multiply.”49 Tertullian frequently cites
44. In the afterlife, gender hierarchy might be modi¿ed. See Martin, Corinthian
Body, 232–33. Yet Tertullian’s belief (unlike Paul’s) in a physical resurrection body
might doom women to an inferior position even in the afterlife. Tertullian’s belief
that Paul wrote the Pastoral Epistles bolstered his claim to replicate Paul.
45. Tertullian expresses outrage that a dedicated virgin under the age of twenty
was placed in the ranks of the church’s widows (De virg. vel. 9.2 [CCSL 2.1219]).
46. “Sanctity” is “essentially abstention from sexual relations” (so Rambaux,
Tertullien, 214). Likewise, Peter Brown maintains that Tertullian was the ¿rst Latin
Christian writer to af¿rm that “abstinence from sex was the most effective technique
with which to attain clarity of soul,” citing De exh. cast. 10.1 on its bene¿ts for men
(The Body and Society: Men, Women, and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity
[New York: Columbia University Press, 1988], 78). For a good summary of the
issue, see Marie Turcan, “Le Mariage en question? Ou les avantages du célibat selon
Tertullien,” in Mélanges de philosophie, de littérature et d’histoire anciens offerts à
Pierre Boyancé (Rome: Ecole de Française de Rome, 1974), 711–20. In De mon. 8.1
(CCSL 2.1239), however, Tertullian allows Monogamy to stand alongside Conti-
nence as two “priestesses” (antistes) at the threshold of the Gospel; with a bit of
gender-bending, as Zechariah and John the Baptist respectively.
47. De exh. cast. 9.4 (CCSL 2.1028). Tertullian does not recognize this as the
view of the Corinthian ascetics, which Paul modi¿es.
48. Ad ux. 1.3.2 (CCSL 1.375).
49. De mon. 7.4 (CCSL 2.1238).
Paul’s phrases: “the form of the world is passing away”; “the time is
wound up”; we are those “upon whom the end of the ages has come.”50
He expects that (good) angels will soon descend to bear Christians in the
air to meet Christ.51 In his own era, the ever-present danger of persecu-
tion shows that the end is near52—and that chastity is recommended.53
In light of the expected eschaton, virginity has a special claim on
Christians.
But a question soon emerges: Who counts as a “virgin”? In 1 Cor 7,
“virgins” do not yet seem an “order”; unmarried females in general are
counseled to stay in their present condition (1 Cor 7:8). Thus, the father
(or ¿ancé) of 1 Cor 7:36 is advised that it is preferable to keep the
woman in question “as his virgin.”54 By contrast, the virgins whom
Tertullian exhorts in De virginibus velandis frequently appear as a
different category from girls who are simply (not yet) married: they have
made an oblatio to God.55 Does Tertullian’s language imply that they had
taken an of¿cial vow, or at least made a private decision to remain
unmarried?56 Although the evidence is not entirely clear, “virgins” often
seem to constitute a speci¿c class.
Christoph Stücklin, however, warns against overestimating, as have
some scholars, the formality of Tertullian’s group, “virgins.”57 One looks
in vain, Stücklin argues, for a tightly organized institution comparable to
50. De cul. fem. 2.9.6 (CCSL 1.363); De exh. cast. 6.1 (CCSL 2.1023); De mon.
7.4; 14.4 (CCSL 2.1238, 1249), citing 1 Cor 7:31, 29; 10:11.
51. De cul. fem. 2.7.3 (CCSL 1.361), alluding to 1 Thess 4:13–17; used as an
argument against Christian women ornamenting their hair.
52. De mon. 16.4–5 (CCSL 2.1251–52).
53. “Enduring to the end” (Matt 24:13) for Tertullian can mean remaining
content with a single marriage (De mon. 15.4 [CCSL 2.1251]).
54. The incomprehensibility of this text prompts widely varied interpretations.
Does it pertain to a father worried about his unmarried daughter or to a ¿ancé
wondering whether to consummate a proposed marriage? Is he of strong passions, or
is she “over-age”? What might “keeping her as his virgin (parthenos)” mean? Does
Paul recommend that they be “partners in celibacy”? See MacDonald, Early
Christian Women, 141. Later patristic writers did not think the “spiritual marriage”
option possible; for discussion and texts, see Elizabeth A. Clark, “John Chrysostom
and the Subintroductae,” CH 46 (1977): 171–85.
55. De virg. vel. 13.2 (CCSL 2.1222).
56. The options, with readings of various passages from De virginibus velandis,
are carefully outlined by Christoph Stücklin in his commentary on that work
(De virginibus velandis: Übersetzung, Einleitung, Kommentar: Ein Beitrag zur
altkirchlichen Frauenfrage [Europäische Hochschulschriften 23/26; Bern: Lang;
Franfurt: Lang, 1974], 150–58).
57. Stücklin, De virginibus velandis, 157–58.
the diaconate. There are no signs of a dedication ceremony.58 Indeed,

Tertullian sometimes seemingly includes all unmarried girls in the
category of “virgins,” as when he insists that in 1 Cor 11, “virgin” is a
sub-category of “woman.”59 Moreover, Tertullian gives the “virgins” no
speci¿c role to play in the church. As David Rankin puts it, “Their
primary function may indeed have been simply to be.”60 Their duties are
not speci¿ed: wedded to God, they “handle Him by day and night.”61
Unlike Paul’s busy wives of 1 Cor 7:34, they are occupied with nothing
but “attending on the Lord.”62
Virgins, Veiled and Unveiled

Tertullian appears to write in the face of opposition. His vehement
insistence on the veiling of virgins suggests that such was not the usual
practice in Carthage.63 His overriding concern is sexual. Assuming the
ancient analogy between a woman’s genitals and her head, Tertullian
argues that since the virgin covers the lower part of her body, the upper
part too should be covered.64 Scripture, Nature, and “Discipline” (i.e.,
church order and regulations), all three from God, require the veil.65 The
58. Ibid., 156–57.

59. For example, when he writes that all females from the time of puberty should
be veiled (De virg. vel. 11.2 [CCSL 2.1220]).
60. Rankin (Tertullian, 179–80) suggests they represent the holiness of the
church and provide a “signi¿cant symbol” of the church as the Virgin Bride of
Christ.
61. Ad ux. 1.4.4 (CCSL 1.377), probably alluding to 1 John 1:1; Luke 24:39; and
John 20:17.
62. Ad ux. 1.3.6 (CCSL 1.376), alluding to 1 Cor 7:35. For Tertullian, married
women, not virgins, are “anxious.” For a different interpretation of Paul’s verse, see
MacDonald, Early Christian Women, 136. Making the dedicated virgin the bride of
Christ is “the ultimate mechanism for bringing the independent virgin ¿rmly under
patriarchal control.” So Dyan Elliott, “Tertullian, the Angelic Life, and the Bride of
Christ,” in Gender and Christianity in Medieval Europe: New Perspectives (ed. Lisa
M. Bitel and Felice Lifshitz; Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008),
15–33 (16–17), discussing Jo Ann McNamara, A New Song: Celibate Women in the
First Three Christian Centuries (New York: Harrington Park Press, 1985), 121.
63. Tabbernee, Fake Prophecy, 114. Tertullian’s opponents call his insistence on
veiling a “novelty” (De virg. vel. 1.1–2 [CCSL 2.1209]). In De virg. vel. 2.1 (CCSL
2.1210), Tertullian notes a few places where veiling is customary, suggesting that in
other places it is not. Even in an early treatise (De or. 21.1–22.10 [CCSL 1.268–
71]), Tertullian had insisted that virgins be veiled.
64. De virg. vel. 12.1 (CCSL 2.1221–22). On the equation of head and genitals,
see Martin, Corinthian Body, 234–35, 237.
65. De virg. vel. 16.1 (CCSL 2.1225).
veil shows that despite her superlative Christian devotion, the Christian
virgin is still “woman” and must submit to the rules laid on all adult
women by the church66—or rather, in Tertullian’s view, by Christ.
Commenting on 1 Cor 11, Tertullian writes that if “Christ” tells
betrothed and married women to veil their heads, how much more does
he wish this for “his own”?67 The veil (as Dyan Elliott puts it) “does
double service as a symbol of both gender and submission”; it shows that
the virgin’s womanhood is “ineradicable.”68 In Tertullian’s view, Peter
Brown observes, Christian baptism did nothing to change “the fact that
women were seductive.”69
A virgin’s leaving her head uncovered in church signals that she is
open to rape, or at least to losing her virginity.70 In a sexually charged
passage, strategically placed at the climax of a chapter, Tertullian
describes the virgin who removes her veil: she is “penetrated” (percuti-
tur) by the gaze of many untrustworthy eyes, “tickled” (titillatur) by
pointing ¿ngers, feels a warmth creep over her amidst kisses and
embraces; her forehead hardens and then relaxes. Thus, as virgin, she has
learned to “please” men in a way different from marital intercourse, but
likewise sexually charged.71 The veil, by contrast, provides a “helmet,” a
“shield,” to protect her head.72 The images, taken from the realm of
warfare (cf. Eph 6:11–17), pass to the realm of sex: the veil serves as her
prophylactic, in effect, just as marriage serves as a prophylactic against
porneia and sexual desire for a man (1 Cor 7:2).73
In arguing that all adult women must be veiled in church, Tertullian
gets good purchase from the “angels” of Gen 6, as elaborated by 1 En.
6–16 (a book he includes in Scripture).74 Making a cameo appearance in
1 Cor 11:10, the “angels” serve to justify Paul’s insistence that women
cover their heads during worship. Tertullian even blames women (“the
daughters of men”) for luring these “sons of God” from their heavenly
66. De virg. vel. 4.2; 7.1; 8.1 (CCSL 2.1212, 1216, 1217).
67. De virg. vel. 16.4 (CCSL 2.1225).
68. Elliott, “Tertullian,” 17, 26. See Martin, Corinthian Body, 245–46.
69. Brown, Body and Society, 81.
70. De virg. vel. 3.4 (CCSL 2.1212). Tertullian argues that uncovered heads
signal the virgins’ fall from the grace of virginity (De virg. vel. 14.3 [CCSL
2.1223]).
71. De virg. vel. 14.5 (CCSL 2.1224).
72. De virg. vel. 15.1 (CCSL 2.1224); in 16.4 (CCSL 2.1225), he continues the
military imagery: the veil is her armaturam, vallum, and murum.
73. Martin, Corinthian Body, 214, 246–48.
74. De cul. fem. 1.3.1 (CCSL 1.346).
abode.75 Those angels, with a good eye for female desirability, targeted
nubile virgins, not matrons whose “bodies had already been de¿led
(maculata).”76 Coming to earth, the angels brought with them all manner
of evils, especially those to which women are prone and which encour-
age their vanity—jewelry, cosmetics, dyed clothing, even astrology.77
For Tertullian, women’s sin with the angels compounds the aboriginal
sin women inherited from Eve. The consequence for the present is that
the church’s virgins must cover themselves so as to prevent a reoccur-
rence of that inappropriate coupling. Tertullian intones, “So dangerous a
face that cast stumbling-blocks so far as heaven must be shaded.”78 By
styling Christian virgins as “Brides of Christ,” Elliott suggestively
argues, Tertullian ensured that they would not be brides of those fallen
angels, “celestial predators,” who so disrupted the world’s harmony; a
repetition of that “supernatural miscegenation” would be forestalled.79
Yet even in Tertullian’s own time, angels remain a menacing bunch; they
beat the necks of women who do not wear suf¿ciently long veils.80
By removing their veils, Tertullian charges, Christian virgins are, in
addition, guilty of pride and vanity. They try to make themselves “con-
spicuous.” If female virgins of the church are so keen to differentiate
themselves from other women by their uncovered heads, why should not
male virgins don some special marking, perhaps the feathers, ¿llets, or
75. Tertullian, De virg. vel. 7.3; 11.2 (CCSL 2.1217, 1220). The angels are also
useful in anti-heretical polemic. In Against Marcion, Tertullian asks, to “whose
angels” does Paul refer in 1 Cor 11:10? If the angels are of the Creator God, then it
is entirely suitable that women cover their faces with a sign (the veil) that obscures
their beauty and shows their “humble demeanor.” But if the angels are of Marcion’s
God, then no need to worry, for neither Marcion’s (male) disciples nor his angels
have any desire for women! (Adv. Marc. 5.8.2 [CCSL 1.685–86]). Here, Tertullian
critiques Marcion’s asceticism. Elliott remarks that Tertullian keeps the angels “in
reserve as a kind of trump to enforce female submission” (“Tertullian,” 23).
76. De virg. vel. 7.2 (CCSL 2.1216).
77. Tertullian, De cul. fem. 1.2.1 (CCSL 1.344–45). On the evils, cf. esp. 1 En. 8.
In Apol. 22.3–4 (CCSL 1.128–29), Tertullian elaborates how the fallen angels gave
birth to demons who brought sickness and other afÀictions to the world.
78. De virg. vel. 7.3 (CCSL 2.1217).
79. Elliott, “Tertullian,” 18. Virgins as Brides of Christ also appear in De virg.
vel. 16.4 (CCSL 2.1225); De or. 22.9 (CCSL 1.271).
80. De virg. vel. 17.3 (CCSL 2.1226). “Angels in Paul’s theology are never
unambiguously benign or positive characters” (so Martin, Corinthian Body, 244).
That humans post-resurrection will judge the angels (1 Cor 6:3) suggests that they
might exceed the angelic standard. See De cul. fem. 1.2.4 (CCSL 1.345); De idol.
18.9 (CCSL 2.1120); Adv. Marc. 2.9.7 (CCSL 1.485); De pud. 14.8 (CCSL 2.1307).
tattoos of various “barbarian” groups, to show their “distinction”?81

Clearly for a Roman man, such attire would be ridiculous.
Another question: Is the state of Christian virginity a “choice” or a
“gift”? Refusal to be veiled shows that the virgin “unwillingly” accepted
her status, that she was a virgin “by compulsion,”82 and for Tertullian, it
was of paramount importance that virginal life be a choice.83 Yet Paul’s
claim that continence was a “gift” (1 Cor 7:7) also proved useful to
Tertullian. Rebuking virgins who sought “glory” from their state, Tertul-
lian could deÀate their pride by insisting that since virginity was a “gift”
they have “received,”84 they should exhibit grateful humility.
Tertullian’s outrage concerning the unveiled virgins puzzles our con-
temporaries. Karen Torjesen suggests a socio-ecclesiological explana-
tion. She situates Tertullian at a historical moment in which the church
was transitioning from its earlier house-church provenance to a more
formal, structured organization with a hierarchy of of¿cers. On this
view, Tertullian’s insistence on the virgins’ veils correlates with his
assumption that the church operates no longer in a private, but in a
public, sphere.85 The church seen as a body politic, Torjesen argues,
would lend authority, discipline, and gravitas to Christian proceedings.86
81. De virg. vel. 10.2 (CCSL 2.1219). His rhetorical query assumes that the male
is the “unmarked,” normative category and the female the “marked” category that
shows her difference. It also serves to display Romans’ superiority to “others.”
82. De virg. vel. 14.1, 5 (CCSL 2.1223–24).
83. E.g., De virg. vel. 3.1; 14.5 (CCSL 2.1211, 1224).
84. De virg. vel. 13.3 (CCSL 2.1223). Yet Tertullian allows the virgin some
“glory.” If women-in-general are said by Paul to be the “glory of man” (1 Cor 11:7),
how much more is not the Christian virgin a “glory” to herself, all on her own? (De
virg. vel. 7.2 [CCSL 2.1216]).
85. Karen Jo Torjesen, “Tertullian’s ‘Political Ecclesiology’ and Women’s
Leadership,” StPatr 21 (1989): 277–82 (281). Torjesen gives several examples of
Tertullian’s vocabulary choices that reveal his understanding of the church as
“public.” Also see Karen Jo Torjesen, When Women Were Priests: Women’s
Leadership in the Early Church and the Scandal of their Subordination in the Rise
of Christianity (New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 1993), 160, 165. Daniel L. Hoff-
man (The Status of Women and Gnosticism in Irenaeus and Tertullian [Studies in
Women and Religion 36; Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen, 1995], 179) challenges
Torjesen’s argument: Were not women engaging in “public” activities in visiting the
sick, prisoners, and so forth?
86. Torjesen, “Tertullian’s ‘Political Ecclesiology,’ ” 279. Cf. James Ash’s thesis
that the authority of the monarchical bishop co-opted the charisma that prophecy had
enjoyed (although his views on the demise of prophecy might now be modi¿ed by
newer work on Montanism); see his “The Decline of Ecstatic Prophecy in the
Church,” TS 37 (1976): 27–52.
The virgins have a merely symbolic role, advertising the purity of the
church and the devotion of its members. If the virgins were to be given
public honors in the church, it would seem (Torjesen suggests) that they
were holders of public of¿ce. Such insinuations might well account for
Tertullian’s wrath: for him, nothing by way of public honor can be
granted to a virgin.87
Torjesen’s argument, however, rests on the assumption that the era
of the house-church was nearly past—a disputed assumption. William
Tabbernee, for example, assumes to the contrary that in Tertullian’s time,
Carthaginian Christians were still operating with a house-church struc-
ture.88 The adjudication of this question would be important to under-
standing Tertullian’s challenge to the virgins. How Tertullian’s notion of
the church affects his view of women in church of¿ces, we shall discuss
below.
Marriage as Institution89
When Tertullian argues against Marcion and other alleged heretics of a
highly ascetic stripe, or defends his own orthodoxy, he supports marriage
as God’s ordinance. Here he ¿nds assistance in the Pastoral Epistles.
Marcion, Apelles, and others who wish to “destroy” marriage and put an
end to the human race, he claims, are condemned by “Paul” in 1 Tim
4:3.90 Against such as these, Tertullian advances a form of Christian
discipline that welcomes marriage. He notes that in 1 Thess 4:3–5, Paul
teaches Christians to abstain from fornication, not from marriage; every
man is to possess his “vessel” in honor.91
87. Torjesen cites De virg. vel. 15, which does not address this issue. De virg.
vel. 14.2 (CCSL 2.1223), however, critiques virgins who are brought into the midst
of the church “elated by the public appropriation of their property” (publicato bono
suo elatae) and “lauded by the brethren with every honor charity and bountiful work.”
88. William Tabbernee, “To Pardon or Not to Pardon? North African Montanism
and the Forgiveness of Sins,” StPatr 36 (2001): 375–86 (385). Tabbernee (382, 386)
thinks that the oracle in De pud. 21.7 may have come from a Carthaginian “new
prophet” (or “prophetess”).
89. Alfred Niebergall (“Tertullians Auffassung von Ehe und Eheschliessung,” in
Traditio-Krisis-Renovatio aus theologischer Sicht: Festschrift Winfried Zeller zum
65. Geburtstag [ed. Bernd Jaspert and Rudolf Mohr; Marburg: Elwert, 1976], 56–72)
provides a theological and ecclesiological analysis of Tertullian’s views on marriage
and the marriage contract, arguing that even in his “rigorist” Montanist period
Tertullian did not abandon the notion that marriage found its origin and continuance
in God (65) and was imbedded in the church community (70–71, 72).
90. Adv. Marc. 1.29.1–2; 4.34.5; (CCSL 1.472–73, 636); De prae. haer. 33.6
(CCSL 1.214); De mon. 15.1 (CCSL 2.1250), citing 1 Tim 4:1–3.
91. Adv. Marc. 5.15.3 (CCSL 1.709).
Yet, if Paul now appears as a champion of marriage, the apostle’s

ascetic message in 1 Cor 7 needed explaining or “explaining away.”
Thus, Tertullian claims, Paul permitted marriage and advised its con-
tinuance; if he seemingly preferred celibacy, it was only because “the
time was short” (1 Cor 7:29), not because Christ represented a different
God (from that of the Old Testament).92 Even if celibacy is “better” than
marriage, marriage is still to be vindicated as from the Creator God. If
any blame lies in marriage, it is not the institution that is at fault but its
“extravagant use.” Besides, if there were no marriage, there would be no
way to show superiority in the “sanctity” of abstinence: “All proof of
abstinence is lost when excess is impossible,” Tertullian intones.93 Georg
Schöllgen stresses that in Tertullian’s era, the Augustan marriage laws,
with various penalties on the unmarried and on widows and widowers
who did not remarry—whether or not actually enforced—were still in
effect, thus constituting at least a social pressure for marriage.94
Yet when Tertullian is not arguing against Marcion and other ascetics
or defending his own orthodoxy, he takes a more rigorous line. One
reason for forgoing marriage he borrows from Paul: the imminence of
the eschaton. Here Tertullian ¿nds welcome support in 1 Cor 7. Given
the shortness of time before the “end” comes, married couples should
treat each other “as if not” (1 Cor 7:29).95 Ecclesiastes 3:1 proclaims that
there is “a time for everything,” and now, when the time is being “wound
up” (1 Cor 7:29), is the moment to prefer celibacy to marriage.96
Another reason drawn from 1 Cor 7: Tertullian argues that Paul, bow-
ing to human weakness, concedes marriage—not merely sexual relations
in marriage—as an “indulgence.”97 Paul’s grudging concession shows
Tertullian that marriage cannot be an absolute good.98 As an institution,
marriage has many faults that detract from the Christian life, and the
wealth and worldliness of the matrons Tertullian depicts99 exacerbate the
92. Adv. Marc. 5.7.7–8 (CCSL 1.683).

93. Adv. Marc. 1.29.5 (CCSL 1.474).
94. Georg Schöllgen, Ecclesia Sordida? Zur Frage des Sozialen Schichtung
Frühchristlicher Gemeinden am Beispiel Karthagos zur Zeit Tertullians (Münster:
Aschendorff, 1985), 216.
95. Ad ux. 1.5.4 (CCSL 1.379).
96. De mon. 3.8 (CCSL 2.1232).
97. De exh. cast. 3.6 (CCSL 2.1019). Tertullian makes clear that Paul’s “indul-
gence” in 1 Cor 7 is for marriage only, not for fornication, for “adulteries and
harlotries” (De pud. 16.23 [CCSL 2.1314]).
98. De mon. 3.3 (CCSL 2.1231). Among spiritual Christians, “license” (i.e.,
marriage), he claims, is modest (De mon. 1.2 [CCSL 2.1229]).
99. Schöllgen attempts to ascertain the class/rank situation that Tertullian
addresses; while cautious against pinpointing a precise rank, he opts for the decurial
institutional problems. The list in De exh. cast. 12 of the time-consuming

duties of the domina, meant to serve as a deterrent, suggests to our
contemporaries that Tertullian was dealing with substantial house-
holds.100 Revealingly, he passes over the role of love in marriage, even
when he extols the beauty of a Christian union as in Ad ux. 2.8.6–9.
Moreover, he generally reserves the term affectio to describe a widow’s
regard for a dead husband, which should serve as a reason for her to
reject a new marriage.101 Marriage, he bluntly writes, is a state into which
women have simply “fallen” (incidistis).102
Moving to a rhetorical “division” of his topic, “marriage,” Tertullian
declares that marriage stems either from Àeshly concupiscence (sexual
desire) or from worldly concupiscence (desire for things of the world):
both motivations are to be rejected by Christians.103 The sexual dimen-
sions of marriage lend ample fuel for his rhetorical ¿re. Commenting on
1 Cor 7, Tertullian repeats Paul’s argument that marriage may be
“necessary” to stave off sexual temptations, but what is only “necessary,”
Tertullian claims, is easily deprecated. As merely “permitted,” marriage
cannot be classed among the “goods.” Certainly it would be better
neither “to marry” nor “to burn” (1 Cor 7:9).104 To be sure, “marrying” is
better than “burning” (which Tertullian here treats as a penalty, presuma-
bly hell¿re), but what kind of a “good” can be compared only with a
penalty!105 Alluding to Gal 5:17, Tertullian acknowledges how strongly
the Àesh wars against the spirit.106
On the theme of sex, the ¿rst topos of his rhetorical “division,”
Tertullian is explicit: the act by which a woman becomes “married”
(namely, for him, by sexual intercourse) is the identical act by which one
becomes an adulteress or a fornicator: the nature of the act is the same,
class (Ecclesia Sordida?, 204–5, 208, 223–24). The women apparently found it
dif¿cult to reconcile the expectations of their milieu with Christian teachings (206).
100. Schöllgen (Ecclesia Sordida?, 214–15) notes: the house to manage, keys to
be guarded, food attended to, cares of the family lessened.
101. Rambaux, Tertullien, 219.
102. De virg. vel. 17.1 (CCSL 2.1225).
103. Ad ux. 1.4.2 (CCSL 1.377). “Concupiscentia saeculi” is tightly linked with
“ambitio” (Schöllgen, Ecclesia Sordida?, 207). “Ambitio” is especially deadly in that
it lacks a limit, unlike “concupiscenia” (Dennis E. Groh, “Tertullian’s Polemic
Against Social Co-Optation,” CH 40 [1971]: 10).
104. Ad ux. 1.3.3–5 (CCSL 1.375–76); De mon. 3.3 (CCSL 2.1231).
105. De exh. cast. 3.7 (CCSL 2.1019). For “burning” as penalty (not concupi-
scence), see also in De pud. 16.16 (CCSL 2.1313–14). As such, it means that for
Tertullian fornication is not pardonable.
106. De mon. 1.3 (CCSL 2.1229).
although the law distinguishes the one from the other.107 Even a ¿rst
marriage, he insists, has something of fornication about it. Given this
understanding, Paul was right to hold that it is “best not to touch a
woman.”108 And by advising couples to separate sexually at the time of
prayer (1 Cor 7:5), Paul implies that prayers have greater ef¿cacy when
sex does not interfere. “If the conscience blush, prayer blushes,”
Tertullian intones, invoking “holiness” language from the Old Testament
to suggest the sacredness of the moment of prayer.109 He praises Christian
couples who renounce sexual relations from the time of their baptism:
this is true virtue, since they abstain from a pleasure they know well.110
On his second topos, worldly concupiscence (desire for things of the
world), Tertullian likewise ¿nds much on which to comment.111 Christian
couples are faulted for wishing to bring children into this wicked
world.112 How can those who have supposedly disinherited themselves
from the world yearn for heirs? Repeating an ancient philosophical
commonplace, Tertullian declares that no “wise man” would ever desire
sons.113 Christians are rather called upon to “emasculate” the world, to
“circumcise” all worldly values.114 Tertullian’s concentration on inheri-
tance issues again suggests that he is dealing with a propertied class.
Matrons
Tertullian accords married women little praise. The luxury and expense
of their clothing, cosmetics, and jewelry, all designed to attract men, is
107. For early Christian writers and Roman law on what “makes” marriage, see
Elizabeth A. Clark, “ ‘Adam’s Only Companion’: Augustine and the Early Christian
Debate on Marriage,” Recherches Augustiniennes 21 (1986): 139–62. Tertullian’s
blunt assertion that it was “sex” (rather than “consent”) allowed him to construe
marriage as merely a higher form of prostitution.
108. De exh. cast. 9.3–4 (CCSL 2.1028). Elsewhere (De pud. 4.1–2 [CCSL
2.1286–87]), Tertullian identi¿es fornication (stuprum) with adultery (adulterium):
everything other than nuptial intercourse falls into these categories. See O’Malley,
Tertullian, 24–25, 173, 176. Tertullian disputes that the man Paul pardoned in 2 Cor
2 is the fornicator of 1 Cor 5. Paul “condemned” (damnaverat) the man, not
“rebuked” (increpaverat) him (De pud. 13–14 [CCSL 2.1303–10]). Sider cites this
section as an example of Tertullian’s use of the topic of “ambiguity” (Ancient
Rhetoric, 91, 93).
109. De exh. cast. 10.3 (CCSL 2.1030).
110. De exh. cast. 1.4–5 (CCSL 2.1015–16).
111. Ad ux. 1.4.6–8 (CCSL 1.377–78).
112. Ad ux. 1.5.1 (CCSL 1.378).
113. De exh. cast. 12.3 (CCSL 2.1032); similarly, De mon. 16.4 (CCSL 2.1251).
114. De cul. fem. 2.9.8 (CCSL 1.364).
his constant complaint. He sees it his duty to coax them into what he
considers appropriate female behavior: if the church as the “Bride of
Christ” is characterized by submissiveness, humility, obedience, and
discipline,115 how much more should human brides express these charac-
teristics? Since inner purity must be manifested in outward comportment,
Tertullian rejects their (alleged) argument that the externals do not
matter, since “God can see the heart.”116
Tertullian’s concerns provide a glimpse into the social class of his
addressees and the social problems that Christianity posed for them.117
Despite his critique of how the well-off use their money, Tertullian does
not aim for a “classless” society. He allows that there should be “appro-
priate” dress for the upper classes and is indignant that lower-class males
and females wear status-inappropriate clothing.118 It is rather “simplicity”
at which he aims. The fallen angels of Gen 6 (as elaborated in 1 Enoch),
who brought ornamentations to the human world, he fears, have undone
female modesty; their “gifts” serve as a lure to men.119 (Tertullian’s cri-
tique degenerates to the ludicrous: if God had wished humans to wear
purple garments, he would have arranged for sheep to grow purple
wool!)120 Yet Tertullian seems less interested in the money wasted on
luxury goods that could have been given to the poor, than, for example,
John Chrysostom. Tertullian concentrates rather on the sexual threat that
such attire, jewelry, and make-up pose for “neighbors” who might be
tempted.121
In their sumptuous living, these errant Christians appear to “glory” in
the wrong things; “glorying in the lacerated Àesh” is the only “glory”
115. For the church as Virgin and Bride, see Rankin, Tertullian, 83–86, with
texts.
116. De cul. fem. 2.13.1 (CCSL 11.369). Tertullian here appeals to Paul for
support: “Let your probity appear before men” (Phil 4:5, cf. Rom 12:1; 2 Cor 8:21).
117. For Schöllgen’s view regarding the social class of Tertullian’s audience,
see n. 99 above; Groh, “Tertullian’s Polemic,” 8, 9; Wilhite, Tertullian, 64–69,
98–99, 116–17.
118. De pal. 4.8–10 (CCSL 2.745–46). Tertullian’s indignation was initially
pricked by men’s preference for the toga over the pallium, but he also hints at class-
based issues. In De cul. fem. 2.12.1 (CCSL 1, 367), he mentions prostitutes who
deck themselves out in the ornaments reserved for matrons. For an alternative
interpretation of De pallio as relating to ethnicity, see Wilhite, Tertullian, 138–43.
119. De cul. fem. 2.1–2 (CCSL 1.352–55).
120. De cul. fem. 2.10.1 (CCSL 1.364).
121. De cul. fem. 2.2.4 (CCSL 1.354–55). Tertullian cites Pauline verses (1 Cor
10:24; 13:5; Phil 2:4) that urge Christians not to care about their own things but their
neighbors.
appropriate for Christians.122 Allusions to imminent persecution and

death haunt De cultu feminarum: how, Tertullian asks the women, will
your body so ornamented be able to bear torture and the sword?
Christians will be spending time in iron(s), not in gold.123 May they hope
to die a martyr’s death, not “on bridal beds, nor in miscarriages!”124
Tertullian also argues that women, by this false “getting-up,” show
their dissatisfaction with God’s handiwork. Do they aim to “put on
incorruptibility” (cf. 1 Cor 15:52–54) by means of cosmetics and dyed
hair? Will angels recognize them, so arti¿cially done up, when they are
carried to meet Christ in the air?125 Adopting a Pauline metaphor, Tertul-
lian writes that their heads are “free”; do they intend to become “slaves”
by such ornamenting? Rather, they should modestly don their veils.126
In his critique of marriage, Tertullian makes much of Paul’s claim that
“pleasing a husband” involved dif¿culties (1 Cor 7:34). He cleverly
deploys Paul’s words in an unexpected way: the Christian matron
“pleases” best by making no effort to “please” through clothing, jewelry,
and grooming. Was she not “pleasing” enough to her husband when he
picked her in her virginal innocence? Besides, Christian husbands should
seek virtue, not beauty, in their wives.127 Tertullian goes so far as to
declare that attempting to “please” a spouse through beauti¿cation and
dress is “a species of carnal concupiscence,” the cause of fornication.128
The Christian matron will “please” best by adopting the domestic habits
of archaic times: she should sit at home spinning, a far better occupation
than arraying herself in gold, and as a bonus, God will become her
Lover.129
Tertullian’s strictures about wealthy women ¿t well the glimpses of
Carthaginian society his writings elsewhere reveal. These women, we
gather, faced dif¿culties in ¿nding appropriate marriage partners: well-
off prospective Christian husbands were in short supply.130 Tertullian
122. De cul. fem. 2.10.2; 2.11.1; 2.3.2 (CCSL 1.365–66, 356); contrast with
“lacerated Àesh,” 2.3.3 (CCSL 1.356). On various nuances of gloria, see Groh,
“Tertullian’s Polemic,” 11.
123. De cul. fem. 2.13.6 (CCSL 1.370).
124. De fug. 9.4 (CCSL 2.1147).
125. De cul. fem. 2.5.1–2.7.3 passim (CCSL 1.357–61).
126. De cul. fem. 2.7.2 (CCSL 1.361).
127. De cul. fem. 2.4.1–2 (CCSL 1.357).
128. De exh. cast. 9.1 (CCSL 2.1027).
129. De cul. fem. 2.13.7 (CCSL 1.370).
130. This was especially a problem for rich widows. See Schöllgen, Ecclesia
Sordida?, 211; Groh, “Tertullian’s Polemic,” 11–12.
reports with disapproval that some elite pagan women were taking
lower-class men, eunuchs, or their own slaves as husbands—a move (he
suspects) designed to prevent the men from impeding their liberty.131
Christian women should not copy their behavior. To be sure, Tertullian’s
upholding of “class-appropriate” marriages when such were hard to
arrange may have been another way to promote female celibacy.
Intermarriage
Given the shortage of Christians of higher social class available as
marriage partners, the issue of intermarriage with pagans looms large.
Georg Schöllgen argues that the “problem of mixed marriage,” as
Tertullian describes it, “is also chieÀy a problem of the rich woman in
the community.”132 Schöllgen posits that the fear of social descent may
have been stronger for some women than fear of the church’s prohibition
of mixed marriage.133
Tertullian appeals to 1 Cor 7:12–14 to argue against intermarriage;
Paul here speaks of a formerly pagan couple in which one member
converted to Christianity after the marriage. Those who were baptized
before marriage, however, cannot marry “strange Àesh” (Jude 7), that is,
pagans, for such a marriage is unsancti¿ed.134 Christians, whose bodies
are “temples of the Holy Spirit” (1 Cor 3:16), who marry Gentiles are
guilty of fornication and should be shunned by the Christian community
(cf. 1 Cor 5:9–11).135 A Christian woman who marries a pagan man,
Tertullian warns, will ¿nd many impediments to her religious duties that
render intermarriage “inexpedient” as well as “unlawful” (1 Cor 10:23).136
Of course, if the wife converted after marriage to a pagan, she may have
the chance to win her husband to Christianity (1 Cor 7:13–14).137 A
marriage in which both prospective spouses are Christians affords more
hope, for they are “two in one Àesh,”138 their “togetherness” being
manifest in giving alms, visiting the sick, and so forth, free of obstacles
posed by the partner.139
131. Ad ux. 2.8.4 (CCSL 1.392–93).

132. Schöllgen, Ecclesia Sordida?, 210.
133. Ibid., 212.
134. Ad ux. 2.2.1–9 (CCSL 1.384–87).
135. Ad ux. 2.3.1–3 (CCSL 1.387–88).
136. Ad ux. 2.4.1–2.6.3 (CCSL 1.388–91).
137. Ad ux. 2.7.1–2 (CCSL 1.391).
138. Ad ux. 2.8.7 (CCSL 1.393), citing Gen 2:24; Matt 19:5; Mark 10:8; Eph
5:31.
139. Ad ux. 2.8.8 (CCSL 1.394).
Widowhood and Remarriage

Given Tertullian’s lack of enthusiasm for marriage, it is unsurprising
that he adamantly opposes second marriage after a spouse’s death.140 To
his audience—Schöllgen suggests a small circle of wealthy, presumably
young, widows141—Tertullian claims that Jesus himself, though a celibate
in Àesh, set the pattern for monogamy: in spirit, he had one spouse, the
church.142 It is of interest that a Montanist oracle directed against remar-
riage provides Tertullian with his ¿rst clear reference to the New
Prophecy.143
Since it is God, Tertullian informs his readers (here, ostensibly, his
wife), who takes away husbands by death, why attempt to restore what
God has removed?144 Your desire for a second marriage does not match
God’s wish.145 In his human judgment, Paul leniently allowed remarriage,
even while advising against it (1 Cor 7:39, 6–8).146 More rigorous in his
later treatises, Tertullian there declares that neither the Gospels nor
Paul’s letters contain “a precept of God that permits second marriage,”
and what is not “permitted” is “forbidden.” If Paul thought ¿rst marriage
“inexpedient,” what must he think of second!147 If the spiritual faculties
are dulled by a ¿rst marriage, how much more by a second!148 When Paul
advises widows that they will be happier to remain unmarried, he adds
the phrase “and I too have the Spirit of God” (1 Cor 7:40). Note the
difference, Tertullian urges, between the “indulgence” of the (merely)
human Paul and the advice of the Spirit!149 If Paul allowed widows a
140. Yet in book 1 of Ad uxorem, Tertullian assumes remarriage as possible.

Remarriage after divorce is not even considered: if Paul in Rom 7:1–3 reports that
God does not will a divorced woman to be joined to another while her husband lives,
God certainly does not will it after he is dead (De mon. 9.5 [CCSL 2.1241]).
141. Schöllgen, Ecclesia Sordida?, 213.
142. Regarding Jesus’ Àeshly celibacy, see De mon. 5.6–7 (CCSL 2.1235),
alluding to Eph 5:29, 32.
143. Tabbernee, Fake Prophecy, 130, 152, citing Adv. Marc. 1.29.4 (CCSL
1.473). The shortness of time also counsels monogamy rather than second marriage.
Since the “time is wound up,” Christian laymen (not women) must be prepared to
assume the role of priests (De mon. 11.4 [CCSL 2.1244]).
144. Ad ux. 1.7.2 (CCSL 1.381). Schöllgen doubts that this work was written for
Tertullian’s wife (Ecclesia Sordida?, 207, 214). Elliott comments that in Ad uxorem,
Tertullian strives “to establish himself as disinterested moralist versus posthumously
possessive husband” (“Tertullian,” 20).
145. De exh. cast. 2.1 (CCSL 2.1016).
146. Ad ux. 2.1.4 (CCSL 1.384).
147. De exh. cast. 4.2–3 (CCSL 2.1021).
148. De exh. cast. 11.1 (CCSL 2.1030–31).
149. De exh. cast. 4.4–6 (CCSL 2.1021–22). The “I too” suggests that his
opponents claimed to have “the Spirit of God.”
little “milk” in the “infancy of their faith,” surely now, in Tertullian’s

era, is the time for “solid food” (cf. 1 Cor 3:2).150 Widows should ponder
that in the resurrection they will be joined in a “spiritual consortship” (in
spiritale consortium) with their dead husbands.151
Paul, however, gives no license for a Christian widow to remarry an
unbeliever. On this point, Tertullian is ¿rm. Here, his advice echoes that
directed to those contemplating ¿rst marriage: Christians who are bap-
tized before marriage who then mingle with “strange Àesh” (Jude 7) are
guilty of fornication; they forget that their bodies are “temples of the
Holy Spirit” (1 Cor 3:16).152 How can a bereaved spouse pray for the
spirit of the dead partner when joined to a second spouse?153 How can the
remarried widow pray for both husbands? If she does, is she not an
“adulteress” to both?154
Playing on the Gen 2 story of Eve’s creation, Tertullian puns that the
“one rib” that became Eve signaled there was to be “one wife,” as does
the pronouncement of “two in one [Àesh]” (cf. Gen 2:23, 24), taken up in
Eph 5:31 to signal the “mystery” of Christ’s marriage to the church.155
All appeals to the Old Testament’s allowance of polygamy and divorce
are futile now that the “time has now been wound up”; those with wives
should live as though they “had not” (1 Cor 7:29).156 Tertullian attempts
to “explain away” any earlier laxity God had allowed the human race, the
gradual “pruning” that led to more rigorous discipline.157
Since Tertullian, like other Christians of his day, believed that Paul
had written the Pastoral Epistles, he needed to explain, in addition, the
seeming variation in “Pauline” views regarding second marriage.
Tertullian’s “Psychic” opponents apparently insisted that only bishops
were required to rest content with one marriage,158 quoting for their
150. De mon. 11.6 (CCSL 2.1245).

151. De mon. 10.6 (CCSL 2.1243). Tertullian, unlike Paul in 1 Cor 15, expected
a real “Àeshly” resurrection (see De res. carne. 52–63).
152. Ad ux. 2.2.9; 3.1 (CCSL 1.387).
153. De exh. cast. 11.1–2 (CCSL 2.1030–31).
154. De mon. 11.2 (CCSL 2.1244).
155. De exh. cast. 5.2–3 (CCSL 2.1022–23).
156. De exh. cast. 6.1 (CCSL 2.1023).
157. De exh. cast. 6.1–7.1 (CCSL 2.1023–24). Tertullian’s opponents claimed
that restrictions regarding monogamy were put only on bishops. Tertullian cleverly
replies that all Christian laymen must be prepared to assume the priesthood at any
time. “Are we not all priests?,” he rhetorically asks (De exh. cast. 7.3 [CCSL
2.1024]; De mon. 12.1–2 [CCSL 2.1247]).
158. De mon. 12.4 (CCSL 2.1247). Tertullian rather feebly responds: Why don’t
they then refuse all the other virtues and quali¿cations that 1 Tim 3:1–7 and Titus
1:6–9 insist upon?
argument 1 Cor 7:9 (“better to marry than to burn”),159 1 Tim 5:14

(young women/widows urged to marry and bear children), and Rom 7:2–
3 (widows free to remarry). Tertullian suggests that they remember Rom
7:4: that Christians are “dead to the law,” and as such, will be judged
guilty of adultery if they remarry.160 Paul’s concession for remarriage
rested on the “in¿rmity of the Àesh” and human hard-heartedness, the
same that had led Moses to grant permission to divorce. Just as Christ
abrogated divorce, so the Paraclete now abrogates Paul’s allowance for
remarriage after the death of a spouse. The New Law abrogated divorce,
Tertullian intones; the New Prophecy abrogates second marriage.161
Those who cannot “endure to the end” (Matt 24:13) the loneliness of
their bedchambers deserve excommunication.162 Desiring heirs from a
second wife if the ¿rst bore no children offers no valid excuse. Tertullian
mocks the Christian man who, supposedly “disinherited from the world,”
desires heirs. Does he think that Christians are under the old Roman law
that would leave the childless and the unmarried with reduced capacities
to receive a “full portion”? Perhaps his “Psychic” opponents would like
to emend 1 Cor 15:32 to read, “let us eat, drink, and marry, for tomorrow
we die”?163
Tertullian also points to examples of notable pagans who maintained
virginity (as the Vestal Virgins) or a single marriage (as Lucretia; the
wife of the Flamen Dialis; and Dido, who preferred to “burn rather than
marry”).164 These pagan women serve as a convenient shaming device for
Tertullian: Christian women should be so honorable!
Women in Church Of¿ces

Tertullian denied priestly functions to women: they may not speak,
teach, baptize, offer the sacri¿ce, or perform any other masculine task
(virilis muneris) in the sacerdotal of¿ce.165 Tertullian charged that
159. De pud. 1.15 (CCSL 2.1283). In De pud. 1.6–7 (CCSL 2.1281–82),

Tertullian complains about the edict of a bishop of Rome declaring adultery and
fornication to be forgivable. For discussion and identi¿cation of the bishop, see
Tabbernee, Fake Prophecy, 38–39.
160. De mon. 13.3 (CCSL 2.1248–49).
161. De mon. 14.4 (CCSL 2.1249).
162. De mon. 15.3 (CCSL 2.1250–51); excommunication for digamists also in
De pud. 1.20 (CCSL 2.1283). Tertullian appeals to Paul: there is to be “no commun-
ion between light and darkness” (2 Cor 6:14). See De pud. 15.5 (CCSL 2.1310–11).
163. De mon. 16.4–5 (CCSL 2.1251–52).
164. De exh. cast. 13.1–3 (CCSL 2.1033–35). His list stands as a shaming
device against lax Christians. A similar one appears in De mon. 17.
165. De bapt. 17.4–5 (CCSL 1.291–92); Adv. Marc. 4.1.8 (CCSL 1.546); De
virg. vel. 9.1 (CCSL 2.1218–19), citing 1 Cor 14:34–35 and 1 Tim 2:11–12. Rankin
“heretics” allowed their “wanton” (pocaces) women to teach, exorcize,

undertake cures, “and perhaps even to baptize.”166 Catholic Christianity’s
disallowance of such practices separates its orthodoxy from their
“heresy.” His most famous outcry on the subject comes in his treatise On
Baptism. Here, he denies the right of a “viper,” a Cainite woman, to
baptize and to teach “sound doctrine” on the grounds of her sex.167 He
inveighs against appeal to the example of Thecla (in the Acts of Paul and
Thecla) to justify women’s teaching and baptizing. Tertullian reports that
the presbyter in Asia who wrote that book (even though he confessed he
had used the name of Paul “out of love”) had been removed from of¿ce.
Who, Tertullian scornfully asks, can believe that Paul, who did not even
let a woman boldly “learn,” would tolerate her teaching and baptizing?
Women, the apostle insisted, must be silent in church and ask questions
of their husbands at home (1 Cor 14:34–35).168
Karen Torjesen’s view that the church structure in Tertullian’s era was
rapidly changing from house-church to public organization might illu-
minate his views. Tertullian, she argues, understands the church as a
legal body (a corpus or societas), divided on the analogy of the ranks of
Roman society: the higher clergy are comparable to the senatorial order;
the lay people are the plebs.169 “Rights” accrue to each order, with bish-
ops possessing the right (ius) to baptize, to teach, to offer the Eucharist,
and to restore fellowship to penitent sinners.170 (Elsewhere, Tertullian’s
opponents apparently had faulted his insistence that authority and “disci-
pline” be vested in clerical hierarchy as mere lenocinium, pandering.171)
claims that Tertullian makes this ruling to foster order and peace, not for theological
reasons (Tertullian, 168).
166. De prae. haer. 41.5 (CCSL 1.221); discussed in Torjesen, “Tertullian’s
‘Political Ecclesiology,’ ” 279–80.
167. De bapt. 1.2 (CCSL 1.277).
168. De bapt. 17.4–5 (CCSL 1.291–92). See Stevan L. Davies, “Women,
Tertullian, and the Acts of Paul,” and Thomas W. McKay, “Response,” Semeia 38
(1986): 139–49.
169. On the laity as plebs, see De exh. cast. 7.3 (CCSL 2.1024); De iei. 13.3
(CCSL 2.1271–72); De mon. 12.2 (CCSL 2.1247). See the discussion in Rankin,
Tertullian, 131. To be sure, when Tertullian’s interest is to impose strict monogamy
on (male) laypeople, he insists that they are all priests and must be ready at any time
to assume the priesthood, though he does not mean this duty to fall on women. See
De exh. cast. 7.2–6 (CCSL 2. 1024–25).
170. Torjesen, “Tertullian’s ‘Political Ecclesiology,’ ” 278, with references to
De exh. cast. 7; De bapt. 1; De pud. 21.
171. De prae. haer. 41.3 (CCSL 1.221); and Torjesen, “Tertullian’s ‘Political
Ecclesiology,’ ” 279. Yet Barnes (Tertullian, 141) claims that by the time of De
Tertullian’s vision of the church, modeled on the analogy of the state,

insured that women, not enjoying the male right to govern the body
politic, could not speak in church, baptize, offer the sacri¿ce, or “claim
for herself a part in any male function.”172 Tertullian’s view about
women’s leadership, Torjesen argues, “is a consequence of his concept
of the church as a body politic.”173
Yet another, albeit related, explanation might be sought: with Tertul-
lian, we see the advance of a strong “sacerdotalist” current in which
episcopal ordination carried a high degree of sacred authority, in tan-
dem with the elevation of the Christian “mysteries,” that was disallowed
to others. Nineteenth-century church historians in America assigned
Tertullian a major role in transforming Christianity from a freer, more
“republican” structure to one of hierarchy and sacramentalism. In this,
they blamed Tertullian for resurrecting Jewish ideas of “priesthood.”174 In
this priestly vision of the church, women would play little part.
The Widows
Questions remain. For one, if Tertullian does not allow women sacer-
dotal of¿ce, where does he place “the widows”? “Widows” appear as a
speci¿c, formal group in his writings.175 He appears to include them in
the clerical ranks when he exclaims: How many men and women in
ecclesiastical orders owe their position to continence? Married to God,
they have slain concupiscence!176 In her study of the order of widows in
pudicitia Tertullian “resented the strengthening of episcopal authority, which was

partly designed to defend the church against Montanism.”
172. De virg. vel. 9.1 (CCSL 2.1218–19), citing 1 Cor 14:34.
173. Torjesen, “Tertullian’s ‘Political Ecclesiology,’ ” 277.
174. For references and discussion, see Elizabeth A. Clark, Founding the
Fathers: Early Church History and Protestant Professors in Nineteenth-Century
America (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2011), 188, 218, 221, 227.
These professors, to be sure, were not motivated by a critique of Tertullian’s views
on women’s status.
175. De prae. haer. 3.5 (CCSL 1.188); De virg. vel. 9.3 (CCSL 2.1219); De pud.
13.7 (CCSL 2.1304); De mon. 11.1, 4 (CCSL 2.1244); Ad ux. 1.7.4 (CCSL 1.381).
See the discussions in Rankin, Tertullian, 176–78; Bonnie B. Thurston, The Widows:
A Women’s Ministry in the Early Church (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989), 88–89.
176. De exh. cast. 13.4 (CCSL 2.1035). On problems with the manuscript
readings on this point, see Rankin, Tertullian, 136. William Tabbernee argues that
possibly Montanists had at least women deacons and presbyters, if not bishops (Fake
Prophesy, 373–76, 387), citing some inscriptional evidence. Epiphanius claims that
the followers of the Montanist woman Quintilla had women bishops and priests
(Pan. 49.2), but he may not be a reliable witness; see the discussion in Jensen, God’s
Self-Con¿dent Daughters, 165.
the early church, Bonnie Thurston claims that Tertullian’s writings

provide the ¿rst reference to the practice of widows being seated with the
clergy in church.177 Yet Tertullian does not elaborate on the widows’
status, merely repeating some of “Paul’s” quali¿cations for eligibility:
the widow should have been the “wife of one man,”178 at least 60 years
old, and a successful raiser of children. These credentials, Tertullian
claims, show that she has weathered the tests of a whole course of female
life. She is now in a position to counsel and comfort others.179 He does
not list speci¿c ministry functions for “widows,” merely emphasizing
the quali¿cations for entry.180 Even if Tertullian (possibly) considers
the widows a “clerical” of¿ce, he does not allow them any function that
involves speaking in church. He cites Pauline texts to enforce the
injunction—and if they may not speak, they certainly may not teach,
baptize, offer the sacri¿ce, or perform any other masculine task (virilis
muneris) in the sacerdotal of¿ce.181
Women Prophets
A second question: Tertullian’s denial of sacerdotal functions to women
and his ambiguous placement of “the widows” might render paradoxi-
cal his allowance of women prophets.182 As a “spiritual high-Àyer,”
Tertullian valued manifestations of the charismata183 and believed that
177. Thurston, The Widows, 83, citing De virg vel. 9.3 (misidenti¿ed) (CCSL 2.
1219). In De mon. 11.1 (CCSL 2.1244), widows are identi¿ed as a “sect,” and listed
along with bishops, presbyters, and deacons.
178. Ad ux. 1.7.4 (CCSL 1.381).
179. De virg. vel. 9.3 (CCSL 2.1219), citing 1 Tim 5:9–10.
180. Rankin, Tertullian, 176.
181. De virg. vel. 9.1 (CCSL 2.1218–19), citing 1 Cor 14:34–35; 1 Tim 2:11–12.
182. Adv. Marc. 5.8.11 (CCSL 1.688), presumably because Paul allowed it
(1 Cor 11:5). For the women prophets of the Corinthian church, see Antoinette Clark
Wire, The Corinthian Women Prophets: A Reconstruction through Paul’s Rhetoric
(Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990). For an overview regarding women prophets in early
Christianity, see Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, “Word, Spirit, and Power: Women in
Early Christian Communities,” in Women of Spirit: Female Leadership in the Jewish
and Christian Traditions (ed. Rosemary Ruether and Eleanor McLaughlin; New
York: Simon & Schuster, 1979), 39–44.
183. The phrase is Christine Trevett’s (Montanism: Gender, Authority and the
New Prophecy [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996], 68). See Dennis E.
Groh, “Utterance and Exegesis: Biblical Interpretation in the Montanist Crisis,” in
The Living Text: Essays in Honor of Ernest W. Saunders (ed. Dennis E. Groh and
Robert Jewett; Lanham, Md.: University Press of America, 1985), 73–95 (85–87,
90), for the debate on “ecstasy.” Likewise, Laura Nasrallah places Tertullian as
the Holy Spirit had the capacity to empower women to prophesy.184

Women’s prophesying, however, might seem problematic, given the
ancient view that the prophetic spirit was an “invasion” that resembled
sexual penetration.185 Women prophets are seen as passive recipients of
divine penetration/inspiration, channeling messages from beyond. The
model that lay behind the construction of the “woman prophet” (passive
receptivity to divine inspiration) seems different from that of the civic
and/or priestly model that lay behind “bishops” and “priests.”
Tertullian’s tolerance of women prophets surely rests on Paul’s
allowance of female prophesying in 1 Cor 11:5, an exception to the
prohibition against women speaking in church. Writing in 1911, Pierre
de Labriole claimed that Paul’s exception “placed in the hands of the
Montanists a very precious trump card.”186 Some scholars have proposed
that Tertullian’s insistence that all women be veiled in church underlay
his wish for them to be appropriately dressed to prophesy, should the
Spirit so move them.187 His assumption that sexual abstinence, holiness,
and receipt of visions, dreams, and private revelation are linked is
noteworthy.188
participant in a larger debate over “prophecy, ecstasy, and amentia” (“An Ecstasy of
Folly”: Prophecy and Authority in Early Christianity [HTS 52; Cambridge, Mass.:
Harvard University Press, 2003], 153). She challenges the model of Christianity’s
“charismatic origins and subsequent decline” (203, 202,159).
184. Trevett, Montanism, 190, 195; and Pierre de Labriolle, “ ‘Mulieres in
ecclesia taceant.’ Un aspect de la lutte anti-montaniste,” BALAC 1 (1911): 107–8,
citing De cul. fem. 2.13.7 (on women keeping silent), in contrast to Adv. Marc
5.8.11, allowing female prophetesses. Labriolle (121) concludes that it was the
Montanist crisis that led the church to resist the concession that Paul had given
regarding women prophets.
185. See Martin, Corinthian Body, 239–42, for discussion and examples.
186. De Labriolle, “Mulieres,” 103.
187. Geoffrey D. Dunn, Tertullian (London/New York: Routledge, 2004), 135–
43; Tabbernee, Fake Prophecy, 115.
188. Trevett, Montanism, 106. Eusebius (H.E. 5.18.3) claims that Priscilla and
Maximilla deserted their husbands, which may or may not be a way to discredit the
movement (see Montanism, 109). Rex D. Butler argues that Priscilla and Maximilla’s
abandonment of their husbands may relate to the absence of Perpetua’s and
Felicitas’ husbands in the Passion of Perpetua and Felicitas (The New Prophecy and
“New Visions”: Evidence of Montanism in The Passion of Perpetua and Felicitas
(PatrMS 18; Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2006), 130.
In the later Catholic Acts of Perpetua, the husbands reappear (101, 130). Butler
proposes that the Passion provides a bridge between the New Prophecy’s arrival in
North Africa and the Montanism of Tertullian (132).
Tertullian cites the Montanist female prophetesses,189 never appealing

to biblical passages that otherwise might have been used to restrict them
(e.g., Gen 3:16; 1 Cor 11:8; 1 Tim 2:12–14).190 Montanus, Priscilla, and
Maximilla, he claims, do not preach another God, nor do they separate
Christ from God, or hold any other Rule of Faith. If they are in disfavor,
it is not because of “heresy” but because they advocate more frequent
fasting than marrying.191 Writing against Marcion, Tertullian scornfully
asks: What can Marcion show by way of spiritual gifts? Is there any
woman in his community who has prophesied “among those holy sisters
of his”?192 When recommending Paul’s words that married couples
(temporarily) abstain from sexual relations in order to devote themselves
to prayer (1 Cor 7:5), Tertullian cites a logion of the Montanist prophet-
ess Prisca: “For puri¿cation makes for harmony, and they see visions;
and turning their faces downward, they even hear salutary voices, as
clear as they are secret.”193
And the female prophet was not a phenomenon of the past. Tertullian
mentions a “sister” of his own congregation who had visions concerning
the corporeality of the soul. She received these during the church service,
but reported on them “to us” (nobis) afterwards. The visions were
recorded “in proper order” (by Tertullian?) so that they could be tested.
That she explained her visions only at the conclusion of the main
189. See Tabbernee, Fake Prophecy, 113. For the oracles, see Trevett,
Montanism, 163–70; Ronald E. Heine, The Montanist Oracles and Testimonia
(PatrMS 14; Mercer, Ga.: Mercer University Press, 1989), 4–7. That the women held
greater prophetic authority in the movement than Montanus himself is argued by
Jensen, God’s Self-Con¿dent Daughters, 154, 159. On Prisca’s and Maximilla’s
oracles, see 160–61, 167. For a list and discussion of the six Montanist oracles cited
by Tertullian, see Robeck, Prophecy in Carthage, 110–27. Some of the prophet-
esses’ oracles have been shown to be developments from scriptural verses, especially
verses from Pauline letters. See Groh, “Utterance and Exegesis,” 78–79; Trevett,
Montanism, 164, citing Maximilla’s “wolf” saying and her “compulsion” saying;
see also 130–32. Trevett (Montanism, 164) comments, “The Prophets were laying
claim to the Pauline ‘high ground’ again, as the catholics claimed the legacy of the
apostle.” For the oracles attributed to Maximilla and Prisca/Priscilla, see Heine,
Montanist Oracles, 2–7. On Maximilla’s “compulsion” oracle, see Nasrallah, “An
Ecstasy of Folly,” 185–86; on other Montanist oracles cited in Tertullian, see
Tabbernee, “To Pardon,” 382.
190. Hoffman, Status of Women, 172, 176.
191. De iei. 1.3 (CCSL 2.1257). On Tertullian’s appeal to the charismata, see
Rankin, Tertullian, 124–26.
192. Adv. Marc. 5.8.11–12 (CCSL 1.688).
193. De exh. cast. 10.5 (CCSL 2.1030).
worship service to a group of like-minded Christians194 may suggest one

reason why Tertullian allowed women prophets but not women priests or
bishops: the meeting was not public, not part of the formal worship
service.195 The woman prophet served as a mere “channel” for the voice
of the Holy Spirit, not attempting to give authoritative teaching on her
own. Tertullian, like Paul, wants order in worship to be maintained.196
And order, it appears, means that women may have no speaking part in
the formal worship service.
Conclusion
Paul’s Epistles—and those Tertullian assigned to Paul—proved a vital
resource with which he could advance his views on women in relation to
virginity and celibacy, marriage and remarriage, church of¿ce, and
prophecy. His skill in manipulating the Pauline text to serve his various
purposes is notable. Although more restrictive in his exhortations to
women than many of his Christian contemporaries, Tertullian found in
the New Prophecy, and in Paul, the support for acknowledging women’s
prophecy as authoritative. Tertullian’s directives to women, however
harsh they may seem to our contemporaries, exerted a strong inÀuence
on the later Latin Christian tradition, with Jerome as just one of his
notable heirs.
194. De an. 9.4 (CCSL 2.792–93). Whether the “testing” was by Tertullian or
by a group of “elders” is not clear. See the discussion in Tabbernee, “To Pardon,”
380. On the meaning of “elders,” see Brent D. Shaw, “The Elders of Roman Africa,”
in Rulers, Nomads, and Christians in Roman North Africa (Aldershot: Variorum,
1995), 207–26.
195. See Trevett, Montanism, 173. Trevett argues against the view that the
Montanist women’s suffering as confessors promoted their clericalization (191–96).
196. Robeck, Prophecy in Carthage, 132. Cf. 1 Cor 11:5; 14:32–34.
A RESPONSE TO ELIZABETH A. CLARK’S ESSAY,
“STATUS FEMINAE: TERTULLIAN
AND THE USES OF PAUL”
Margaret Y. MacDonald
Tertullian’s interpretation of Paul on women is a topic where one senses

the battle for Paul—to draw upon the title of Dennis R. MacDonald’s
inÀuential study on the interaction between the Pastoral Epistles and the
Acts of Paula and Thecla.1 Beginning during his own lifetime and con-
tinuing among the ¿rst interpreters of his letters, there were arguments
about how the apostle’s words should be understood on such matters as
the desirability of sexual abstinence and the implications of life in Christ
for male–female relations and comportment. One of the most important
contributions of feminist scholarship over the past twenty-¿ve years has
been the recovery of the challenges to Paul (and deutero-Pauline authors)
on his teaching concerning women and gender that came from opponents
and community members alike, including women. Elizabeth A. Clark’s
fascinating essay illustrates that these challenges were ongoing and may
well have continued to include, at least in part, female initiative, even if
the constructions of female identity sometimes took on a life of their
own, several steps removed from the actual lives of women.
Clark offers valuable insight into Tertullian’s methodology. In essence,
Tertullian seeks to reconcile Paul with a “harder” type of Christianity. As
Clark puts it, “To appropriate Paul’s teaching in the most ascetically
rigorous fashion is Tertullian’s (unannounced) aim.” Using various
exegetical principles which often ¿nd support in Paul’s own approach,
Tertullian is able take advantage of a tension or inconsistency in Paul’s
discourse. Paul, like Tertullian, was an eschatological thinker. According
to the apostle, the current world order had no future (1 Cor 7:31). While
grounding his theology and even his ethical teaching in such conviction,
1. Dennis R. MacDonald, The Legend and the Apostle: The Battle for Paul in
Story and Canon (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1983).
MACDONALD A Response to Elizabeth A. Clark’s Essay 157
Paul often refused or was hesitant to carry his thinking to its logical
conclusion.2 In this age, celibacy was clearly the best option, and a virgin
was better if she remained as she was (1 Cor 7:1–7, 25–35). Carried to
fruition, Paul’s thought should have led him to establish communities of
celibates and people engaged in “spiritual marriages.” But marriage was
still allowed, and extremism was countered by warnings of the dangers
of immorality that could threaten those without the “gift.” Scholars
continue to debate Paul’s motives and the extent to which his ideas
reveal counter-cultural elements. But to a large extent, Paul’s stance on
gender and sexual relations was conformist. The consequence of his
ethical vision was to leave family structure largely undisturbed in the
Greco-Roman city. Yet as Clark illustrates, on asceticism, Tertullian
chose Paul’s more rigorous statements and played down the concessions.
The ambiguities and ambivalences in Paul’s recommendations left
Tertullian considerable room to maneuver. If it was only to prevent
“burning,” marriage could not truly be good (1 Cor 7:9). The words
which most modern interpreters take as the words of the ascetical party
in 1 Cor 7:1, Tertullian took as Paul’s own.
Before discussing the various categories of women mentioned by Ter-
tullian, Clark examines Tertullian’s views on the nature of womanhood
(what counts as woman?). Paul’s opinion is more dif¿cult for modern
interpreters to discern than Tertullian’s use of Paul would suggest. And
it is only by combining the Paul of 1 Corinthians and the Paul of the
deutero-Pauline Pastorals that Tertullian is really able to construct a more
uni¿ed vision where womanhood is ¿rmly entrenched in the human con-
dition with Eve as the ¿rst sinner (1 Tim 2:14). Clark notes that among
Tertullian’s sparring-partners (which might be real or imagined) are
those who argue that the virgins constitute a different class. There is a
fascinating element of continuity with the tensions within ¿rst-century
church groups. Paul would not go so far as to agree with the ascetic
extremists in Corinth who appear to have linked salvation itself with
sexual renunciation and the transcendence of sexual differentiation, but
in the opinion of some modern interpreters, Paul did view virginity as
creating a distinct class of womanhood or as overcoming womanhood
2. For detailed discussion of this topic, see Margaret Y. MacDonald and Leif E.
Vaage, “Unclean but Holy Children: Paul’s Everyday Quandary in 1 Corinthians
7:14c,” CBQ 73 (2011): 526–46 (533–35). On the relationship between Paul’s
asceticism and worldview, see also Vincent L. Wimbush, Paul the Worldly Ascetic:
Responses to the World and Self-Understanding according to 1 Corinthians 7
(Macon, Ga.: Mercer University Press, 1987).
altogether.3 Lone Fatum, for example, views Paul as contributing to a

radical distinction between married women and celibate women, reading
Gal 3:28 as a reference to the abolition of sexuality and gender differ-
entiation related to the apostle’s apocalyptic assumptions. Yet, this denial
of womanhood is ultimately problematic; the celibate woman may attain
“the freedom and equality of asexuality,” but she is also “no longer at
one with her sexuality and reproductive function,” becoming “like a man
in God’s image” (cf. 1 Cor 11:7).4
While not all scholars would agree with Fatum’s interpretation of
Gal 3:28, there is certainly some ambivalence in Paul’s thought on the
transformed identity of women in light of Christ.5 It has been suggested
that symbolic abolition of sexuality stands behind 1 Cor 11:2–16.6 Paul’s
perplexing and awkward response to women removing their head cover-
ings, culminating in his unusual appeal to “custom” (1 Cor 11:16), may
betray puzzlement about his own proclamation inspiring the develop-
ments in the community. While he does not go as far as the author of
1 Timothy, Paul does ground his directives in the human condition and
order of creation with an appeal to Genesis (1 Cor 11:7–9). But there is
an underlying experimentation with identity in Paul’s thought that
Tertullian seeks to harmonize into a clearer system. Moreover, despite
Tertullian’s con¿dence in difference between the categories of wife and
woman, the ambiguity created by the Greek term gynƝ (“woman” or
“wife”), has led to speculation among New Testament scholars about
what Paul actually meant when he referred to the right to be accom-
panied by a sister as a gynƝ in 1 Cor 9:5; scholars debate whether Paul
has in mind existing marriages, arrangements for particular ministerial
purposes, or even celibate partnerships of some kind (a minority of
scholars see corroborating evidence for spiritual marriages in 1 Cor
7:36–38).7
3. On asceticism and women in Corinth, see Margaret Y. MacDonald, “Women

Holy in Body and Spirit: The Social Setting of 1 Corinthians 7,” NTS 36 (1990):
161–81.
4. Lone Fatum, “Images of God and Glory of Man: Women in the Pauline
Congregations,” in Image of God and Gender Models in Judaeo-Christian Tradition
(ed. Kari Elizabeth Borrensen; Oslo: Solum, 2001), 56–137 (70).
5. See the summary of and response to Fatum’s work in Elisabeth Schüssler
Fiorenza, Rhetoric and Ethic: The Politics of Biblical Studies (Minneapolis:
Fortress, 1999), 160–61.
6. See especially Dennis R. MacDonald, There Is No Male and Female: The Fate
of a Dominical Saying in Paul and Gnosticism (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987).
7. On the meaning of 1 Cor 9:5, see Mary Rose D’Angelo, “Women Partners in
the New Testament,” JFSR 6 (1990): 65–86.
If Tertullian found ample material in Paul’s letters to differentiate

women according to their status, it was probably an accidental conse-
quence of Paul’s (reluctant?) engagement with the complexities and
unpredictable aspects of family life. First Corinthians 7 reveals a special
concern for the fate of virgins, but Clark correctly notes that they seem
simply to be young, unmarried women; they do not seem to have taken a
vow or to constitute a type of order.8 Given that ¿rst marriages for girls
in the Roman world typically occurred between the middle and late teen
years (how early remains a subject of debate), the virgins of 1 Cor 7 were
most likely adolescent girls engaged in the transition from childhood to
adulthood, which would last through marriage, the birth of the ¿rst child,
and beyond.9 Perhaps the reason we hear so little about their circum-
stances is that, with the exception of the use of advocates such as
inÀuential widows (1 Cor 7:39–40), their fate was not in their own
hands. In 1 Cor 7 we sense Paul balancing his theological and ethical
vision with the ambitions of mothers, girls, fathers, and ¿ancés. We hear
from an apostle who is hesitant to disturb the status quo, reactive to
probably many unforeseen scenarios, including the tricky problem of
what to do with one’s virgin in 1 Cor 7:36–38. But despite the fact that in
Tertullian’s world virgins have become a more formalized group, in my
view the function of the virgins in Corinth appears to be the same:
simply “to be.” If we assume that these young women of Paul’s day
remained with their parents in the desire to remain holy in body and
spirit (1 Cor 7:34), their signi¿cance as consecrated virgins may have
been great in the community’s ritual gatherings and for community self-
de¿nition in a world passing away. But in terms of the practical realities
of domestic, familial arrangements, their daily lives were probably quite
frequently unchanged.
According to Clark, Tertullian’s forceful insistence that virgins be
veiled probably means that this was not normally the case in Carthage.
Sexuality and women’s seductive natures are at the heart of the matter,
with Tertullian making good use of the reference to the angels in 1 Cor
11:10 (the signi¿cance of which scholars of Paul continue to debate). In
comparison to Tertullian, vivid sexual innuendo is strikingly absent from
8. On the signi¿cance of the designation “virgin” (parthenos) in 1 Cor 7, see

MacDonald, “Women Holy in Body and Spirit.”
9. Recent work on childhood and the life-course in the Roman world has drawn
attention to the fact that marriage was the most visible sign of adulthood for girls.
See, e.g., Beryl Rawson, Children and Childhood in Roman Italy (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2006), 145. On the end of childhood as a Àexible concept, see
pp. 134–45.
Paul’s discourse. Nevertheless, Paul employs various strategies to restrict

women’s choices. In 1 Cor 7, the reference to giftedness can act as the
theological anchor for Paul’s point that sometimes marriage is a neces-
sity. If, as is usually now the case, the engaged couple translation is
preferred for 1 Cor 7:36–38, the virgin would have to give up any desire
to remain holy in body and spirit if her ¿ancé did possess “the gift.” For
Tertullian, Paul’s reference to continence as a gift serves to warn virgins
who might glory in their state by insisting they should remain unveiled.
Paul and Tertullian also share concerns about female head-covering
that are tied to the setting of community boundaries and public visibility.
Citing Torjesen (but also Tabbernee for contrasting evidence), Clark
discusses whether Tertullian’s position on the veiling of virgins has to do
with the transition from earlier house-church structure to hierarchical
organization operating in the public sphere (with implications for
women’s participation in church of¿ces). As Clark notes, this is a topic
that begs for further investigation, but current research on Paul, families,
and gender may prove useful. New research on house-churches, which is
indebted to studies of ancient households, has pointed to a merging of
public and private space in ancient houses and has rendered the dichot-
omy problematic.10 In addition, in her recent analysis of 1 Cor 11–14,
Jorunn Økland quali¿es the distinction between public and private in an
interesting way; for Økland the more important distinction is between
house space and sanctuary space. She argues that the Corinthian dis-
course of gender in 1 Cor 11:2–16 functions to create sanctuary space
where higher levels of hierarchy are male (God, Christ, Paul, Corinthian
men); women ¿nd a place only at the bottom of the hierarchy (1 Cor
11:3).11 Central to her analysis are the few places (1 Cor 11:22 and esp.
in 1 Cor 14:33–35) where Paul distinguishes between the space of
assembly and the space of the household with behavior be¿tting each
realm.12 According to Økland, Paul is trying to convert familial space
10. On the complex relationship between public space and private space with
implications for gender constructions and the lives of women, see especially Lisa C.
Nevett, Houses and Society in the Ancient Greek World (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1999); Shelley Hales, The Roman House and Social Identity
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003); and Carolyn Osiek and Margaret
Y. MacDonald, A Woman’s Place: House Churches in Earliest Christianity (Minnea-
polis: Fortress, 2006).
11. Jorunn Økland, Women in Their Place: Paul and the Corinthian Discourse of
Gender and Sanctuary Space (JSNTSup 269; London: T&T Clark International,
2004), 178.
12. Ibid., 151. Økland argues against the theory that 1 Cor 14:34–35 represents
an interpolation.
into ekklƝsia meeting space (where women must be veiled) with decorum
be¿tting of ritual/sanctuary space. It remains to be seen whether
Økland’s theoretical perspective might also prove helpful in the analysis
of Tertullian’s discourse.
It is in his treatment of marriage that we ¿nd especially strong
evidence of Tertullian pushing Paul in a particular direction. But here,
Paul himself is somewhat evasive. As Clark notes, when Tertullian is not
arguing against Marcion and other ascetics, he takes a more rigorous
line, raising the question of whether Paul’s own response is tempered by
context. The main text in the undisputed letters of Paul where he treats
married life is 1 Cor 7 (the translation and meaning of 1 Thess 4:4–5
remains the subject of extensive debate), but, as noted above, in the
opinion of many New Testament scholars, Paul himself is responding
to ascetic extremism and perhaps even to the rejection of marriage
altogether. How Paul would have reacted outside of the context elicited
by those troublesome Corinthians is dif¿cult to predict. Perhaps he had
much more sympathy for the aspiring ascetics than his cautious approach
to familial matters in general would allow.
Despite his reasoning, Tertullian de¿nitely departs from Paul, how-
ever, in framing marriage as an indulgence. For Paul, marriage is deeply
related to containment of sexual immorality, which, along with the
worship of idols, is at the heart of Jewish critique of the sinful Roman
world. Despite the association of marriage with distraction and anxiety
(1 Cor 7:32–35), Paul does not really furnish the basis for Tertullian’s
claim that marriage is associated with wealth; the worldliness of matrons
is not much on Paul’s mind and, given his treatment of Phoebe in Rom
16:1–2 (who admittedly could be a widow), one is tempted to conclude
that he would have found a way to channel the resources of matrons into
his ministry with very little critique of their general comportment. Nor
does Paul, unlike the authors of the Pastoral Epistles (1 Tim 2:9) and
1 Peter (1 Pet 3:3–5), pay any speci¿c attention to the issue of female
adornment despite Tertullian’s rather ingenious exegetical attempts to
make him critical of cosmetics and dyed hair!
Moreover, while Paul is certainly concerned with the sexual dimen-
sions of marriage, marriage is not sexualized in the manner of Tertul-
lian’s discourse, as summarized so perceptively by Clark: “Even a ¿rst
marriage, he insists, has something of fornication about it.” Tertullian
praises couples for engagement in spiritual marriages, whereas only a
minority of New Testament scholars has seen evidence of the practice in
Paul’s letters based on particular readings of 1 Cor 7:36–38 and 1 Cor
9:5, with most reading 1 Cor 7:5 as a clear prohibition of such tenden-
cies. There is, in fact, more sexual innuendo in Ephesians, but it is cast in
positive terms. There is a clear focus on the bride’s sexual purity (Eph
5:26–27), with allusions to the bridegroom as “the agent of the bride’s
prenuptial bath and purity inspection.”13 On the basis of the evidence
presented in Clark’s essay, it would seem that Eph 5 had little effect on
Tertullian’s treatment of marriage as human institution. The role of love
in marriage, as Clark notes, is conspicuously absent despite much textual
support in Eph 5:25–33.14
On intermarriage and remarriage after widowhood, we ¿nd even
stronger evidence of Tertullian pushing Paul’s words (and lack of words)
in a particular direction. As Clark explains, the problem with intermar-
riage in Tertullian’s day seems to have been caused especially by a
shortage of Christians of higher social class to marry Christian women.
Tertullian can ¿nd support in Paul’s words for the circumstances of a
wife converted after marriage to a pagan (1 Cor 7:12–16), but despite
Tertullian’s best efforts, it is by no means clear that Paul actually pro-
hibited new marriages with pagans unless his concession that widows
could remarry, but only “in the Lord” (1 Cor 7:39), refers to an emerging
preference for endogamy. In his opposition to remarriage after widow-
hood, Tertullian cannot help but admit that he is more rigorous than Paul.
Tertullian’s pattern of argumentation is fascinating, however, revealing
points in common with the Corinthian women prophets who, according
to the analysis of Antoinette Clark Wire, challenged Paul based on his
theology of Spirit.15 Tertullian distinguishes between the indulgence of
the human Paul and the advice of the Spirit (1 Cor 7:40). But commenta-
tors have suggested that in 1 Cor 7:40, where Paul’s states that “I think
that I too have the Spirit of God,” he may be employing sarcasm.16 In
other words, he may be responding to widows whose theology of the
Spirit was leading them to more radical ascetic leanings than Paul
himself harbored.
It is fascinating, too, how Tertullian can use the elapsing of time and
spiritual progress (e.g., solid food; cf. 1 Cor 3:2) as license for a more
rigorous interpretation of Paul. First Timothy 5:14 is particularly prob-
lematic for Tertullian, for here he ¿nds Paul recommending remarriage
13. Carolyn Osiek, “The Bride of Christ (Eph 5:22–33): A Problematic

Wedding,” BTB (2003): 29–39 (35).
14. Clark indicates that Tertullian does make use of the church as bride of Christ
metaphor, though, as an anchor for his call for matrons to exhibit obedient and
subordinate behavior and in his discourse on second marriage.
15. Antoinette Clark Wire, The Corinthian Women Prophets: A Reconstruction
through Paul’s Rhetoric (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990).
16. See, for example, C. K. Barrett, A Commentary on the First Epistle to the
Corinthians (London: A. & C. Black, 1968), 186.
for young widows. But ultimately, the New Prophecy abrogates second
marriage. Once again, Wire’s analysis is suggestive; she argues that the
Corinthian women prophets “claimed direct access to resurrected life in
Christ through God’s spirit” and on that basis challenged Paul’s inter-
pretation.17 Tertullian sees himself as building upon Paul rather than
challenging him, but there is a similar pattern at work: old laws, barriers,
and weaknesses are overcome based on new experiences of the Spirit.
While it is almost certain that Tertullian would have found the activi-
ties of the Corinthian women prophets objectionable, it is not surpris-
ing that he does leave room for women to prophesy given his allegiance
to the New Prophecy. As Clark indicates, however, this is acceptance
of carefully circumscribed women’s leadership. Ministerial roles for
women that move in the direction of priestly functions are forbidden.
New Testament scholars who analyze the evolution of the Pauline legacy
into the second century are often struck by the differing trajectories
leading, on the one hand, to the story of Thecla, famously condemned by
Tertullian as an example of women’s teaching and baptizing, and to the
limiting of women’s roles in the Pastoral Epistles, on the other hand.
Tertullian’s ambivalent recognition of the widows as an of¿ce is in
keeping with the Pastoral Paul’s cautious attitude. But his continuous
openness to women prophets following the example of Paul (1 Cor 11:5)
seems closer to the world of the Acts of Paul and Thecla than the Pastoral
Paul and is worthy of careful reÀection, even if his model of women’s
prophecy is passive reception. Like Paul, Tertullian remains concerned
with order in worship and it appears that women’s prophetic messages
were reported after the “public” service was over. There is no sense of
such timing in 1 Cor 11:2–16 (albeit order of activities is clearly on
Paul’s mind in 1 Cor 14:26–33), and it is one of the reasons why this text
has often seemed to be in contradiction to the prohibition against women
speaking in church in 1 Cor 14:33–36. Yet, according to Økland’s analy-
sis, Paul’s understanding of the house-church assembly as sanctuary
space is certainly seeking to push female initiative to the margins and
might be read as preparing the way for Tertullian’s more explicit direc-
tives and assessments.
In recognizing the relationship between abstinence, holiness, visions
and dreams, Tertullian, like Paul, reÀects the well-documented associa-
tion between female chastity and oracular and prophetic activities in the
ancient world.18 Moreover, as Clark states in her conclusion, Tertullian
acknowledged women’s prophecy as authoritative. In so doing, in one
17. Wire, Corinthian Women Prophets, 85.

18. Ibid., 183.
way or another, he was acknowledging women’s power.19 Tertullian’s

use of Paul on women and gender offers a good example of the complex
legacy of the apostle which has recently been perceptively analyzed by
Richard I. Pervo. Tertullian ultimately presents his own construction of
the apostle and an analysis of his use of Paul reminds us that the voice of
the true Paul cannot be separated from the intra-Pauline conÀicts and
plurality of interpretations that were present in the early church from the
beginning.20
19. See Margaret Y. MacDonald, Early Christian Women and Pagan Opinion:
The Power of the Hysterical Female (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1996), 1–47.
20. See Richard I. Pervo, The Making of Paul: Constructions of the Apostle in
Early Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2010), 1–21.
7
TERTULLIAN ON THE ROLE OF THE BISHOP
Allen Brent
Tertullian was heir to a cluster of different views of episcopacy, apos-

tolic succession, and priesthood that were still in his time in process of
developing into a coherent discourse on sacred ministry. Cyprian, a
generation later, and his successors, were to synthesize separate currents
of tradition regarding sacred ministry, between East and West, into a
more coherent whole. Tertullian, as his predecessor, stood therefore at a
crossroad at which conceptualization of church order was still in a state
of Àuid development.
We begin, therefore, with the traditions on sacred order that Tertullian
had inherited and whose diversity to some extent, as we shall argue, his
so-called Catholic and Montanist phases represented. Indeed, we shall
argue that Tertullian’s “Catholic” phase represented a truncated form of
the Western concept of apostolic succession from which the role of the
Holy Spirit had been excluded, with an almost inevitable re-adjustment
in his “Montanist” phase.
Diversity in Concepts of Sacred Ministry before Tertullian

It is widely recognized that the original Pauline communities, described
mainly in 1 and 2 Corinthians where issues of church life and practice
are addressed, represented what may be described as a charismatic
church order in which ministry involved the exercise of a personal
charisma.1 It would, however, be wrong to see Paul’s Spirit-¿lled com-
munities as possessing a self-authenticating ministry. Paul asserted over
potential charismatic chaos an apostolic authority in which what he lays
down comes from a paradosis that he has received (“from the Lord”) and
1. For the standard presentation of this view, see Eduard Schweizer, Church
Order in the New Testament (trans. F. Clarke; 3d ed.; London: SCM, 1979; repr.,
Eugene, Ore.: Wipf & Stock, 2006).
which he passes on to the community. It is this paradosis that gives the

context of apostolic order within which charismatic gifts are to be
recognized, exercised, and regulated.2 At all events, charisma and order
are not necessarily to be regarded as opposing concepts in the early
church history as they have become in inter-church polemic since the
European Reformation.3
In those deutero-Pauline communities to which the Pastoral Epistles
were addressed, the distinct of¿ces of bishops and deacons are men-
tioned, as also in the preface to Paul’s Letter to the Philippians, where
holders of these of¿ces are associated with Paul and Timothy (ÊİÅ
ëÈÀÊÁŦÈÇÀË Á¸Ė »À¸ÁŦÅÇÀË, Phil 1:1). One reference in the Pastorals to
ÈÉ¼Ê¹ÍÌšÉÇÀ and ÈÉ¼Ê¹ÍÌšÉ¸À is simply to the need for respect for older
men and women and not to any presbyteral of¿ce (1 Tim 5:1–2). Mention
is made, however, of a presbyterate composed of a plurality of “bishops”
who are seemingly interchangeable with “presbyters who preside well”
(ÇĎ Á¸ÂľË ÈÉÇ¼ÊÌľÌ¼Ë ÈÉ¼Ê¹ŧÌ¼ÉÇÀ) in teaching (1 Tim 5:17).
In Clement’s letter to the Corinthians, ëÈÀÊÁŦÈÇÀ is a term also used
apparently interchangeably with ÈÉ¼Ê¹ÍÌšÉÇÀ so that these terms simply
indicate functions of an identical of¿ce not yet differentiated: at all events
there is clearly a plurality of ëÈÀÊÁŦÈÇÀ (1 Clem. 44). Deutero-Pauline
“bishops,” too, are called on to “preside,” not simply over their own
households, but over a church modeled as the “household of God.”4 Here
the “gift that is within” Timothy that needs “stirring up” (ÒÅ¸½ÑÈÍÉ¼ėÅ) is
given originally “through prophecy with the imposition of hands of the
presbyterate” (»ÀÛ ÈÉÇÎ¾Ì¼ţ¸Ë Ä¼ÌÛ ëÈÀ¿šÊ¼ÑË ÌľÅ Ï¼ÀÉľÅ ÌÇı ÈÉ¼Ê¹Í-
Ì¼ÉţÇÍ, 2 Tim 1:6; 1 Tim 4:14), which consisted of a plurality of bishops
and deacons, even though, in the case of 2 Timothy, the “gift (ÏŠÉÀÊÄ¸)”
is given through Paul’s hands alone (»ÀÛ ÌýË ëÈÀ¿šÊ¼ÑË ÌľÅ Ï¼ÀÉľÅ ÄÇÍ).5
But in both cases, whether that of a church order in which the gifts
of the Spirit are self-authenticating but within the context of apostolic
paradosis, or instead given by an act of ordination (ëÈÀ¿šÊÀË Ï¼ÀÉľÅ), the
2. Gal 1:11–12; 1 Cor 11:23–25; 15:1–4. For a further discussion, see Allen
Brent, Cultural Episcopacy and Ecumenism: Representative Ministry in Church
History from the Age of Ignatius of Antioch to the Reformation, with Special Refer-
ence to Contemporary Ecumenism (Studies in Christian Mission 6; Leiden: Brill,
1992), 142–48.
3. For a fuller discussion, see Allen Brent, “Pseudonymity and Charisma in the
Ministry of the Early Church,” Aug 27 (1987): 347–76.
4. 1 Tim 3:2–12; cf. 1 Tim 3:15: ëÛÅ »ò ¹É¸»ŧÅÑ, ďÅ¸ ¼Ċ»ĉË ÈľË »¼ė ëÅ ÇċÁĿ ¿¼Çı
ÒÅ¸ÊÌÉšÎ¼Ê¿¸À, øÌÀË ëÊÌĖÅ ëÁÁÂ¾Êţ¸ ¿¼Çı ½ľÅÌÇË, ÊÌıÂÇË Á¸Ė î»É¸ţÑÄ¸ ÌýË ÒÂ¾¿¼ţ¸Ë.
5. 2 Tim 1:6: »ÀЏ ùÅ ¸ĊÌţ¸Å ÒÅ¸ÄÀÄÅćÊÁÑ Ê¼ ÒÅ¸½ÑÈÍÉ¼ėÅ Ìġ ÏŠÉÀÊÄ¸ ÌÇı ¿¼Çı, Ğ
ëÊÌÀÅ ëÅ ÊÇĖ »ÀÛ ÌýË ëÈÀ¿šÊ¼ÑË ÌľÅ Ï¼ÀÉľÅ ÄÇÍ.
BRENT Tertullian on the Role of the Bishop 167
essence of the ministry, even when it has become located in de¿ned

ministerial of¿ces, is that of a teaching function. Material subsistence is
to be given to those ÈÉ¼Ê¹ÍÌšÉÇÀ who “labor in the word and in teaching”
(1 Tim 5:17). To be faithful in his ministry, Timothy is to “hold fast to
the form of sound words” (ĨÈÇÌŧÈÑÊÀÅ ìÏ¼ ĨºÀ¸ÀÅŦÅÌÑÅ ÂŦºÑÅ, 2 Tim
1:13). It is the teaching ministry of “guarding” Paul’s “deposit” (È¸É¸-
¿ŢÁ¾) that is committed and transmitted in the post-Pauline generation
through an act of ordination.
So far the development of church order was unmarked by those sacer-
dotal features of the priest of later times as an icon of Christ. Indeed, this
was to be true of the Western tradition up until the time of Cyprian, with
the exception perhaps of Clement of Rome. Clement charges the
Corinthians in having deposed their presbyter-bishops with deposing
“those who had offered the gifts blamelessly,” so that the “ministry”
(Â¼ÀÌÇÍÉºţ¸) from which they had been deposed was indeed a “liturgy” in
which they had a priestly role typologically represented in the Old
Testament (1 Clem. 40.5). For Justin Martyr the deutero-Paulinist presi-
dency of the paterfamilias “presiding” over the household of the church
has been reinterpreted in terms of a president (ÈÉÇ¼ÊÌŪË) of a philosophi-
cal school, reading and expounding the “memoires of the apostles.”6
Irenaeus will appeal to Clement’s notion of presbyter-bishops when
the latter claimed that these had “succeeded” (»À¸»ñÆÑÅÌ¸À) to the apos-
tles’ “ministry” or “liturgy” (Â¼ÀÌÇÍÉºţ¸Å, 1 Clem. 44.2). Indeed, Irenaeus
will claim as successors to the apostles not only bishops but presbyters,
too.7 But for Irenaeus the »À¸»ÇÏŢ will nevertheless be modeled on that of
the presidents of a philosophical school, and his emphasis will therefore
be upon continuity of doctrine guaranteed by one presiding teacher.
There is no emphasized connection between the of¿ce of the president
and the eucharistic sacri¿ce offered by the bishop as priest. Yet, as we
shall see later, the transmission of the doctrine of the apostles was not for
Irenaeus simply a mechanical process in which those legally entitled as
»ÀŠ»ÇÏÇÀ to teach proceeded to do so: the deutero-Pauline notion of a
ÏŠÉÀÊÄ¸ of the Spirit also transmitted in the succession was to be
maintained.
For Irenaeus as for Justin, the Eucharist is the “church’s offering,” but
the of¿ce of bishop as successor of the apostles focused not on his
6. Justin, 1 Apol. 66. See discussion in Allen Brent, Hippolytus and the Roman
Church in the Third Century: Communities in Tension Before the Emergence of a
Monarch-Bishop (VCSup 31; Leiden: Brill, 1995), 402–12.
7. Irenaeus, Adv. haer. 3.2.2: ĞÌ¸Å »ò ÈÒÂÀÅ ëÈĖ ÌüÅ ÒÈÇ ÌľÅ ÒÈÇÊÌŦÂÑÅ
È¸ÉŠ»ÇÊÀÅ Á¸ÌÛ ÌÛË »À»ÇÏÛË ÌľÅ ÈÉ¼Ê¹ÍÌšÉÑÅ ëÅ ÌÜÀË ëÁÁÂ¾Êţ¸ÀË ÎÍÂ¸ÊÊÇÄ¼Å¾Å
ÈÉÇÁ¸ÂŪÄ¼¿¸ ¸ĤÌÇŧË, ëÅ¸ÅÌÀÇÍÅÌ¸À ÌýÀ È¸É¸»ŦÊ¼À.
sacerdotal but on his teaching role.8 Indeed, Irenaeus calls the Eucharist
“the church’s offering” without reference to its performance by a parti-
cular ministerial of¿ce. The Eucharist as the Gentiles “pure sacri¿ce” of
Malachi is:
the new sacri¿ce of the new covenant (ÌýË Á¸ÀÅýË »À¸¿ŢÁ¾Ë ÌüÅ Á¸ÀÅüÅ…
ÈÉÇÊÎÇÉŠÅ), which the church receiving from the apostles (úÅÈ¼É ÷
ëÁÁÂ¾Êţ¸ È¸ÉÛ ÌľÅ ÒÈÇÊÌŦÂÑÅ È¸É¸Â¸¹ÇÍÊ¸) offers to God throughout
all the world (ëÅ ϮÇÂŊ ÌŊ ÁŦÊÄĿ ÈÉÇÊÎšÉ¼À). (Irenaeus, Adv. haer. 4.17.5–
6, in exposition of Mal 1:10–11)
It is signi¿cant moreover that the Eucharist in this passage is the people’s

offering, as is made clear by Irenaeus’ citation in this context of the
Matthaean logion regarding bringing gifts to the altar which the disciples
were forbidden to offer unless ¿rst reconciled with their brothers.9 Only
once in Irenaeus are the apostles called Levites, in the light of which
Telfer claimed that he regarded them as priests as well as »ÀŠ»ÇÏÇÀ.10 But
Irenaeus was not referring here to an ecclesiastical of¿ce, but was seek-
ing to refute a Marcionite interpretation of the action of the disciples
plucking ears of corn on the Sabbath: Jesus was surely showing his
contempt for the prohibition of a lesser god that allowed only the priests
to eat of the shew-bread in the temple. Irenaeus’ reply that Jesus was
con¿rming that such an action would be in order for his disciples only
because he had made them “honorary” Levites for this occasion.
Irenaeus’ conclusion is not that as a result the twelve alone are priests,
but that “all the Lord’s disciples are priests” (Ď¼É¼ėË »ò Á¸Ė ÈŠÅÌ¼Ë ĝÀ ÌÇı
ÍÉţÇÍ Ä¸¿¾Ì¸ţ, Irenaeus, Adv. haer. 4.8.3, citing Matt 12:3–4).
When Justin before him had described the ÈÉÇ¼ÊÌŪË presiding at the
Eucharist, he does not do so in a sacerdotal role: he simply utters “the
word (Logos) which comes from him” that effects the change in the
bread and wine:
In the manner in which Jesus Christ our Saviour was made Àesh through
the Logos of God (ĞÅ ÌÉÇÈÇÅ »ÀÛ ŦºÇÍ ¼Çı Ê¸ÉÁÇÈÇÀ¾¿¼ĖË) and took
Àesh and blood for our salvation, so too the food which is blessed by
means of the prayer of the word from him (»ÀЏ¼ĤÏýË ÂŦºÇÍ ÌÇı È¸ÉЏ¸ĤÌÇı
¼ĤÏ¸ÉÀÊÌ¾¿¼ėÊ¸Å ÌÉÇÎŢÅ) from which our blood and Àesh are nourished as
8. This point was originally made by Einar Molland, “Irenaeus of Lugdunum

and the Apostolic Tradition,” JEH 1 (1950): 12–28. See also Brent, Hippolytus,
446–49.
9. Irenaeus, Adv. haer. 4.18.1, citing Matt 5:23–24. See also Brent, Hippolytus,
479–80.
10. William Telfer, The Of¿ce of a Bishop (London: Darton, Longman & Todd,
1962), 114–15.
a result of their transformation (ëÆ úË ¸đÄ¸ Á¸Ė ÊŠÉÁ¼Ë Á¸ÌÛ Ä¼Ì¸¹ÇÂüÅ

ÌÉšÎÇÅÌ¸À ÷ÄľÅ, ëÁ¼ţÅÇÍ ÌÇı Ê¸ÉÁÇÈÇÀ¾¿šÅÌÇË) we teach to be the Àesh and
blood of the very Jesus who was made Àesh. (Justin, 1 Apol. 65.2)
Even, therefore, in Justin the divine word that the teacher has received
and utters effects divine nourishment not any act that imitates sacri¿ce.
This Western understanding of episcopal authority as didadochal
rather than sacerdotal stands in marked contrast to that of the East. For
Ignatius of Antioch the essence of episcopal order as part of the threefold
order of bishop, presbyters, and deacons, was that of sacral representa-
tion. Each of the three were images or ÌŧÈÇÀ of God the Father (bishop),
Christ the Son (deacons), and the Spirit-¿lled council of the apostles
(presbyters). Here was a typology of church order that was never to be
repeated precisely in such a form but whose roots were in a pagan under-
standing of priesthood: the three orders wore spiritually and mystically in
their persons the images or ĲȪʌȠȚ of divinity just as pagan priests who led
sacred processions wore in their ÊÌšÎ¸ÅÇÀ medallion images of the gods
whom they represented and thus made those deities present.11 Ignatius as
a martyr-bishop wears the image of the suffering God who shed his
blood.12
In the anonymous Refutatio omnium haeresium, attributed to Hippoly-
tus, an author of Eastern origin living at Rome around 217 C.E. combines
the Western tradition of »À¸»ÇÏŢ and Ignatius’ eastern, pagan sacer-
dotalism, veiling the latter’s pagan allusions behind an Old Testament
image of priesthood. This writer protested against the Monarchian heresy
allegedly expounded by Pope Callistus I and his school and against his
claim to be sole bishop over the looser confederation of house-churches
under their individual presbyter-bishops that had existed before him. On
behalf of these groups, the anonymous author asserted both the shared
teaching role of such presbyter-bishops in refuting heresy but also their
participation together in a shared high priesthood.13
Here we have the idea of apostolic succession described in character-
istically Irenaean terms, but with a signi¿cant addition to the Irenaean
tradition. As in Irenaeus before him, true to the Pauline tradition, it is
“the Holy Spirit handed down in the church (ÌŦ ëÅ ëÁÁÂ¾ÊÀŠÅ È¸É¸»Ç¿òÅ
ÙºÀÇÅ ÈÅ¼ıÄ¸) that the apostles previously receiving (Çī ÌÍÏŦÅÌ¼Ë ÈÉŦÌ¼ÉÇÀ
11. Allen Brent, Ignatius of Antioch and the Second Sophistic: A Study of Early
Christian Transformation of Pagan Culture (STAC 36; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck,
2006), 120–72.
12. Ignatius, Eph. 1.1–3; Magn. 6.1–2; Trall. 3.1.
13. For a full discussion of this text in the context of the development of the
early church at Rome, see Brent, Hippolytus, 475–81.
ÇĎ ÒÈŦÊÌÇÂÇÀ) handed on (Ä¼Ìš»ÇÊ¸Å) to those who believed correctly

(ÌÇėË ĚÉ¿ľË È¼ÈÀÊÌ¼ÍÁŦÊÀÅ).” It is here the Pauline ÏŠÉÀÊÄ¸ of teaching
that the ministerial successors of the apostles receive. But to this charism
is now added also the ÒÉÏÀ¼É¸Ì¼ţ¸ that is also handed on and received.
With the apostles, “because we are their successors (÷Ä¼ėË »ÀŠ»ÇÏÇÀ
ÌÍºÏŠÅÌ¼Ë), we also share both in the grace of the high priesthood and in
their teaching (ÌýË Ì¼ ¸ĤÌýË ÏŠÉÀÌÇË Ä¼ÌšÏÇÅÌ¼Ë ÒÉÏÀ¼É¸Ì¼ţ¸Ë Ì¼ Á¸Ė »À»¸Ê-
Á¸Âţ¸Ë).”14
The views of this author are mirrored in liturgical texts of the
Hippolytan Traditio Apostolica, where Aaronic and Mosaic images of
the bishop’s of¿ce are to be found: like Moses with his presbyters, the
bishop governs with his council, but like Aaron he propitiates. Here the
imagery of the bishop’s of¿ce is sacerdotal (ÒÉÏÀ¼É¸Ì¼ţ¸). To “serve you
as high priest” (ÒÉÏÀ¼É¸Ì¼ŧ¼ÀÅ ÊÇÀ ÒÄšÄÈÌÑË) is “to offer to you the gifts”
(ÈÉÇÊÎšÉ¼ÀÅ ÊÇÀ ÌÛ »ľÉ¸) and “to have authority to forgive sins” (ìÏ¼ÀÅ
ëÆÇ¿Êţ¸Å ÒÎÀšÅ¸À ÖÄ¸ÉÌţ¸Ë). The action of the bishop is propitiatory: “to
offer propitiation before your face” (ĎÂŠÊÁ¼Ê¿¸À ÌŊ ÈÉÇÊŪÈĿ ÊÇÍ).15
Cyprian, in the generation after Tertullian, was to emphasize both
the diadochal and sacerdotal elements in the bishop’s of¿ce. Neither
mentioning Ignatius, nor articulating precisely his theology of order, he
nevertheless followed an Ignatian principle: bishops were sacerdotes,
and they, as were the presbyters, were to imitate Christ in celebrating the
Eucharist: their actions at the Eucharist repeated precisely what Christ
had done.16
We are now in a position to ask what position Tertullian was to take in
his view of the of¿ce of the bishop or priest.
Tertullian and Bishops as Successors to the Apostles

Tertullian will follow Irenaeus during what has been called his “Catholic”
period in his assertion that bishops are successors of the apostles as
teachers, whilst insisting on the character of the content of what they
teach. As with Irenaeus, bishops are in the apostolic succession and their
heretical counterparts are not. Tertullian will claim that heretical
churches are recent and so cannot trace their history to apostolic times.
So he challenges them:
14. Ps. Hippolytus, Haer. 1, proem. 6.34–38.

15. Trad. ap. 3, 7. For further discussion, see Brent, Hippolytus, 467–75.
16. Cyprian, Ep. 63.2.1–2; 63.14.4. See also Allen Brent, Cyprian and Roman
Carthage (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 261–63.
Let them set forth the origins (origines) of their churches, let them set out
an ordered list of their bishops (euoluant ordinem episcoporum suorum)
in such a way that their account runs down from the beginning (ita per
successionem ab initio decurrentem) so that the ¿rst bishop (primus ille
episcopus) will have as his progenitor and predecessor (auctorem et
antecessorem) someone from the apostles or from apostolic men (aliquem
ex apostolis uel apostolicis uiris) who had continued steadfastly with the
apostles (cum apostolis perseuerauerit).17
For the basic form of his position, Tertullian is undoubtedly indebted to

Irenaeus rather than the early third-century Hippolytan documents that
are nearly contemporaneous with him. He refers to an ordered list (ordo)
of named bishops for many churches, as does Irenaeus, but like him can
only admit knowledge in any detail of only one list from Rome. As in
Irenaeus’ case, he will mention Clement as on the Roman succession list
and will also refer to Polycarp and “property lists” (census) establishing
rightful ownership for the church of Smyrna. Clement was ordained
(ordinatum) there by Peter, and the latter placed (conlocatum) there by
John.18 But he subtly changes Irenaeus’ focus.
In this change of focus, Tertullian reÀects a re-engagement with the
Pauline corpus in the New Testament that he has re-examined afresh
without simply following Irenaeus diadochic re-interpretation. Irenaeus
had placed Clement “in third place” at Rome after Peter. Tertullian will
claim his ordination at St. Peter’s hands, as will the Clementine Homilies,
which no doubt reÀect a legendary dynamic powered by such reÀections
made in the course of such a re-examination (Ps. Clem., Hom., Ep. Clem.
ad Iac. 1.19). There is a Clement mentioned amongst the companions
of Paul in the New Testament (Phil 4:3). Tertullian was to ¿nd such
companions important for his refocusing of Irenaeus.
In De praescriptione, Tertullian extends the Irenaean concept of
»À¸»ÇÏŢ from being a line initiated directly by the twelve apostles to
bishops, though on one occasion Irenaeus does include presbyters as well
“in accordance with the successions of presbyters in the churches” (Á¸ÌÛ
ÌÛË »À¸»ÇÏÛË ÌľÅ ÈÉ¼Ê¹ÍÌšÉÑÅ ëÅ Ì¸ėË ëÁÁÂ¾Êţ¸ÀË).19 A given church in
one geographical space can be apostolic if founded by companions of
apostles (ex apostolis uel apostolicis viri): their “lineage” (origo), “fount”
(fons), and “stock” (stirps) need not be an apostle alone—an “apostolic
man” who had been the close associates of apostles (cum apostolis
17. Tertullian, De prae. haer. 32.1.

18. De prae. haer. 32.2: hoc enim modo ecclesiae apostolicae census suos
deferent, sicut Smyrnaeorum ecclesia Polycarpum ab Iohanne collocatum refert,
sicut Romanorum Clementem a Petro ordinatum est. Cf. Irenaeus, Adv. haer. 3.3.3–4.
19. See n. 7 above and associated text.
perseveraverit) could also found a church. Tertullian refocuses »À¸»ÇÏŢ

from the Irenaean teacher presiding over a philosophical school to the
body of doctrine that is taught.
Tertullian in consequence revisits parts of the Pastoral Epistles on
which Irenaeus did not focus. Against heretical claims that the apostles
transmitted secret doctrines revealed only to a select group of pneu-
matikoi, he cites deutero-Pauline exhortations: “O Timothy, guard the
deposit (depositum)” and “preserve the good deposit.”20 È¸É¸¿ŢÁ¾ as a
translation for depositum is not found in Irenaeus’ Greek text. He points
out that this È¸É¸¿ŢÁ¾, according to deutero-Paul, was delivered “before
many witnesses” (De prae. haer. 25.2–3), which implies that it was pub-
lic, so that heretical teachers cannot be right in claiming a secret tradition
known to them alone:
Now, if they refuse to interpret the “many witnesses” as the “church,” it
is irrelevant. After all, what was published “before many witnesses”
would not have been unspoken (tacitum), his wish that Timothy (illum)
“should commit (demandare) these things (haec) to faithful men, who
should be able to teach others also,” cannot be interpreted as supporting
an argument for another, secret gospel (ad argumentum occulti alicuius
euangelii interpretandum est). His words are “these things” (haec), so he
was writing about the matters presently discussed. Otherwise he would
have said “those things” (illa) if consciously regarding matters absent
from the discussion. (De prae. haer. 25.8–9)
In his rereading of the New Testament, then, in Timothy and Titus he

has found examples of founders of churches that, though not founded
by apostles, were founded by “apostolic men” that were their close
associates.
But in the light of his refocusing upon the content of the È¸É¸¿ŢÁ¾
rather than primarily the apostolic of¿ce of those who hand this on,
Tertullian now goes further beyond Irenaeus and back to the deutero-
Pauline texts that he is rereading:
Accordingly, to this rescript (ad hanc itaque formam) appeal may be
made (provocabuntur) by those churches who, granted that they make
claim to their progenitor (auctorem) neither from apostles nor from
apostolic associates. As churches which are now being founded long after
their time (ut multo posteriores, quae denique cottidie instituuntur), not-
withstanding, because they agree together in the same faith (in eadem ¿de
conspirantes), are regarded as no less apostolic churches on account of a
family resemblance in their teaching (pro consanguinitate doctrinae). (De
prae. haer. 32.6)
20. 1 Tim 6:20 and 2 Tim 1:14, where depositum translates the Greek È¸É¸¿ŢÁ¾.
Thus, for Tertullian the test of orthodoxy is primarily consanguinitas or

the family resemblance between the È¸É¸¿ŢÁ¾ and its coherent devel-
opment into a systematic body of doctrine not exhibited by heretical
doctrine. On account of the “diversity of their profession of faith” (ob
diuersitate sacramenti) they “are not received into peace and communion
by churches that are in whatever manner apostolic” (nec recipiuntur in
pacem et communicationem ab ecclesiis quoquo modo apostolicis, De
prae. haer. 32.8).
Thus, even in his so-called Catholic phase, Tertullian’s emphasis on
the authority of a teaching hierarchy is not high. Bishops have a right to
teach only what is contained in the È¸É¸¿ŢÁ¾; their legitimacy is not so
much that of an of¿ce transmitted to them from the apostles as the
consanguinitas of what they teach with what the apostles taught. There
is, however, in Tertullian’s so-called Catholic phase no reference to the
role of the Holy Spirit in guaranteeing the authenticity and development
of what is contained in the È¸É¸¿ŢÁ¾.
We saw that the deutero-Pauline tradition made reference to an act of
ordination for someone, like Timothy, entrusted to command and teach
the È¸É¸¿ŢÁ¾ entrusted to him and which he was to repeat for those with
whom he was to be associated in such ministry. But we saw that in
deutero-Pauline writings there was an emphasis both on the È¸É¸¿ŢÁ¾
and on the Spirit given through an act of ordination. In the De praescrip-
tione, there is a lack of references to this action of the Spirit. This is a
surprising omission on Tertullian’s part since he clearly follows Irenaeus
claim about episcopal succession but omits the latter’s emphasis on the
transmission of the Spirit through the succession.
Irenaeus spoke not so much of traditio but of a depositum ¿dei
(È¸É¸¿ŢÁ¾) in regard to the teaching of which the bishops possessed a
charism of interpretation given through the Spirit in the light of which
the depositum “renews its youth” (iuvenescere). There is no emphasis
in Tertullian’s “Catholic” phase on this dimension of the »À¸»ÇÏŢ by
including what Irenaeus had continued in his view of episcopal order the
Pauline notion of the “gift that is within you through the laying on of my
hands.” It must be emphasized that the episcopal succession is not for
Irenaeus transmitted simply by a mechanical process running through
secular history. However much in the deutero-Pauline Pastoral Epistles
he who presides must hand on the È¸É¸¿ŢÁ¾ committed to him, he has
nevertheless the ÏŠÉÀÊÄ¸ of the Spirit imparted by an act of ordination.
Irenaeus, whilst tightening in his battles with second-century heresies
the structure of the order of the visible church in terms of a È¸É¸¿ŢÁ¾
transmitted by a de¿ned »À¸»ÇÏŢ, he will nevertheless hold on to this
deutero-Pauline doctrine: the È¸É¸¿ŢÁ¾ or depositum ¿dei is not trans-

mitted by a static process. Rather, it is the transmission of a living tradi-
tion constantly renewed from old age to youthfulness by the Spirit. He
describes all that the church preaches has come together from “the proph-
ets, apostles and disciples” and is “everywhere consistent” (undique
constante):
…through God’s universal plan (per uniuersam dei dispositionem
[ÇĊÁÇÅÇÄţ¸]) and through his activity whose purpose is the salvation of
humanity and the laying the foundation of our faith (et eam quae
secundum salutem hominis est solidam operationem quae est in ¿de
nostra). This faith that has been received from the church we guard
(quam perceptam ab ecclesia custodimus) and which always (et quae
semper) like a most precious object deposited by the Spirit of God in a
¿ne vase (a Spiritu dei quasi in uaso bono eximium quoddam depositum)
renews its youth and renews the youth of the vase itself in which it is
placed (iuvenescens et iuvenescere faciens ipsum uas in quo est).
(Irenaeus, Adv. haer. 3.24.1)
Thus, here Irenaeus remains true to the deutero-Pauline notion of ÏŠÉÀÊÄ¸

given through the imposition of hands, although the latter does not refer
to a speci¿c act of ordination. The Spirit is given to renew the È¸É¸¿ŢÁ¾
thus transmitted through the tradition. But in his early, “Catholic” works,
Tertullian is deaf to that aspect of the Pauline tradition of ecclesial
authority.
But what of the Eastern tradition represented by Ignatius of Antioch.
Here the bishop was a priest in an analogical way with a pagan
agonothete: he wore in an analogical way a ÊÌšÎ¸ÅÇË with images or
ÌŧÈÇÀ of divinity, and led a sacred, festive procession. What indeed of the
Hippolytan school, in which the episcopate was high-priestly and
Aaronic and engaged in acts of propitiation?21 We do not ¿nd the bishop
as priest also in this sense in Tertullian.
There are few mentions of the threefold order in Tertullian, whether
in his “Catholic” or in his “Montanist” period, least of all the many com-
mentaries on their respective ecclesial functions. In the De fuga, however
embarrassing this may have been later to Cyprian in the writings of the
man that he hailed as magister noster, he will have no truck with a
reading of Matthew’s Gospel that appears to licence Àight rather than
confession in persecution. Tertullian exhorts standing and not Àeeing in
persecution for both small and great and continues:
21. See discussion above and associated texts.

But when the persons of inÀuence themselves (sed cum ipsi auctores),
that is to say those very deacons and presbyters and bishops take Àight
(id est ipsi diaconi et presbyteri et episcopi fugiunt), how is a layman able
to understand the real interpretation of (quomodo laicus intelligere
poterit, qua ratione dictum): “Flee from city to city”?22
Here clearly the threefold order is presented in the role of pastoral

leaders, but there is no reference here to any sacramental functions. But
in the De baptismo, there are some interesting implications for how
Tertullian regards the relationship between the roles of the laity and
those of clerical of¿cers in the sacramental sphere.
Tertullian, Baptism, and the Priesthood of the Laity

For Paul, baptism was the sacrament by means of which the dying and
rising of Christ was realized in the life of the believer through member-
ship of the community of faith.23 For Tertullian, however, the waters of
baptism conveyed the Spirit since they were “the ancient substance”
(antiqua substantia) that was at creation the “resting place of the Spirit
of God” (divini spiritus sedes).24 The Spirit of God at creation:
…pre¿gured baptism as a type (praenotabatur ad baptismi ¿guram)…of
him who from the beginning was borne above the waters (qui ab initio
super aquas vectabatur), would as baptizer continue abiding above the
waters (super aquas intinctorem moraturum). Thus a holy substance
(sanctum) was therefore brought down upon a substance made holy
(sanctum autem utique super sanctum ferebatur), or rather, that which
bore holiness acquired it from what was brought down from above (aut
ab eo quod superferebatur id quod ferebat sanctitatem mutuabatur). (De
bapt. 4.1, commenting on Gen 1:6–7)
Tertullian will not, however, claim simply that baptism in the church was
simply the ful¿lment as antitype of an Old Testament type by simply
performing the act itself: “Invocation of God (invocato deo) was neces-
sary so that the Spirit could again descend and rest on the waters so that
they could ‘in virtue of the pristine privilege of their origin…acquire the
pledge of sancti¿cation (de pristina originis praerogativa sacramentum
sancti¿cationis consequuntur)” (De bapt. 4.4).
22. Fug. 11.1 (cf. also 6.1), referring to Matt 10:23.

23. Rom 6:4; 1 Cor 12:13; Gal 3:27; Col 2:12.
24. De bapt. 3.2: ‘Habes, homo, imprimis aetatem venerari aquarum, quod
antiqua substantia; dehinc dignationem, quod divini spiritus sedes…,’ commenting
on Gen 1:2.
But Tertullian does not claim that bishops (or for that matter presby-
ters) alone have the sacramental power to make the invocation. The laity,
too, in an emergency, can invoke the Spirit and thus perform the sacra-
mental act. This is, however, because for him priesthood pertains to the
whole people of God and not simply to the presbyters. When Tertullian
calls the bishop summus sacerdos, it is not because he believes that the
presbyters are simply sacerdotes by comparison, but because he is high
priest of both other clergy and laity, all of whom are priests. It is on this
basis he defends baptism ministered by any Christian in an emergency.
Thus, in the so-called Catholic period, during which he writes the
De baptismo, he concludes:
The supreme right of giving it belongs to the high priest, which is the
bishop (Dandi quidem summum habet ius summus sacerdos, si qui est
episcopus): after him, to the presbyters and deacons (dehinc presbyteri et
diaconi), yet not without authorization from the bishop (non tamen sine
episcopi auctoritate), on account of the Church’s dignity (propter
ecclesiae honorem) which when preserved peace is also preserved (quo
salvo salva pax est). Except for that, even laymen have the right (alioquin
etiam laicis ius est). (De bapt. 17.1–2)
The issue, therefore, is one of ius, auctoritas, and honor, and of the pax
or good order of the church. Unlike Cyprian in the next generation, the
giving of the Spirit in baptism is not associated with apostolic order in
terms of the insufÀation of the Johannine Pentecost so that there is no
baptism and therefore no salvation outside the Church. The one bishop
as successor of the apostles alone can transmit the Spirit and not any
heretical or schismatic rival that contends for the one episcopal chair.25
But for Tertullian baptism does not work in that way, however much he
will deny the validity of baptism outside the Church. Baptism is effective
because the waters are sancti¿ed by the Spirit as the antitype of creation
by virtue of the invocation of God not by virtue of the one who invokes,
lay or ordained:
All waters, therefore, in virtue of the pristine privilege of their origin
(omnes aquae de pristina originis praerogativa), do, after God has been
invoked, attain the sacramental pledge of sancti¿cation (sacramentum
sancti¿cationis consequuntur invocato deo); for the Spirit immediately
supervenes from the heavens (supervenit enim statim spiritus de caelis)
and rests over the waters (et acquis superest), sanctifying them from
himself (sancti¿cans eas de semetipso); and being thus sancti¿ed (et ita
sancti¿catae), they imbibe at the same time the power of sanctifying (vim
sancti¿candi combibunt). (De bapt. 4.4)
25. Cyprian, Ep. 69.1.1; 73.7.2; and Brent, Cyprian, 255–56, 296–97.
Tertullian’s problem with lay baptism except in an emergency seems

therefore to be that it is an infringement of the moral order that is
equivalent to social order; it infringes a social structure de¿ned in terms
of ius, auctoritas, and honor.
We have thus seen that the “Catholic” Tertullian seems to adopt a
position on episcopal order that seems incongruous with that of his
immediate successor Cyprian. Cyprian certainly was to advocate a sacer-
dotal view of Christian priesthood, whether episcopal or presbyteral, in a
Carthage in which presbyters as well as bishops offered what was clearly
regarded as the eucharistic sacri¿ce. In this respect he represented con-
gruence with the Eastern tradition that the Western Tertullian lacked.
Regarding his predecessors, Tertullian inherits the Irenaean concept of
apostolic succession, but has missed Irenaeus’ emphasis on the transmis-
sion of the Spirit in the handing on of the depositum ¿dei through a
succession of teachers that the deutero-Pauline letters had emphasized.
But Clement of Rome, though talking about a plurality of presbyter
bishops at Rome and Corinth appointed originally by apostles, had
spoken of presbyter bishops “offering the gifts” as an antitype of Leviti-
cal offerings in the wilderness. Such a model of church order was not,
as we have seen, reÀected in Justin Martyr, who is content with the
ÈÉÇ¼ÊÌŪË of his Christian philosophical school presiding at the Eucharist
but without sacerdotal features. Justin, in view of his lost work against
heresies, is often regarded as the precursor of Irenaeus. But Justin does
not articulate a theory of »À¸»ÇÏŢ as does Irenaeus, and more signi-
¿cantly, his name does not occur on the latter’s Roman succession list as
the episcopal successor ultimately to St. Peter: if he is the “president” of
his group meeting above the baths of Myrtinus on the Via Tiburtina, he
is nevertheless not the presiding bishop over the whole Roman com-
munity.26
The problem with positioning Tertullian in these currents of some-
times converging, sometimes variant streams in the historical develop-
ment of church order has been compounded by considering that there
was a single model of order in the early church to the construction of
which individual writers contributed as the model developed incremen-
tally. This we can see was certainly false. Clement of Rome with his
Levitical typology certainly shows us that the sacerdotal model was not
con¿ned to Ignatius and the Eastern liturgies, whereas the diadochic
model was exclusively Western. Cyprian’s synthesis was to emerge from
a plethora of models of church order, of which Tertullian’s was one,
26. Acta Justini 3.3; cf. Brent, Hippolytus, 400–402.

distinguished by its truncation of Pauline and Irenaean concepts of

authority and succession in its removal of the renewing action of the
Holy Spirit.
But does Tertullian give us any clues about how and out of what cir-
cumstances Cyprian’s later synthesis emerged in a form that had passed
him by?
Tertullian’s Historical Context and the

Development of Church Order
Chronologically, Tertullian was approximately contemporaneous with
Hippolytus, the Roman martyr whose shrine is located on the Via
Tiburtina. I have elsewhere attempted to recover an account of the events
surrounding the later ¿gure that have left their traces in the Hippolytan
corpus as the surviving works of an Hippolytan school. I argued that his
predecessor was the author of the anonymous Refutatio Omnium Haere-
sium that in its text bore witness to what Lampe originally established to
be the character of the Roman community before, wrongly in my opin-
ion, Victor, as opposed to before Pontian. The Roman church had been
a loose confederation of house-churches (I would prefer to call them,
in view of Justin Martyr’s example, “schools”), each presided over by a
presbyter bishop like Justin’s ÈÉÇ¼ÊÌŪË. But now, Lampe claimed, as
early as the Ponti¿cate of Victor, they had been united under a single
monarch-bishop.27
I have argued that though Lampe was substantially correct regarding
his concept of the “fractionalization” of the Roman community in the
second century, he was wrong to regard Victor as the end point of the
emergence of a monarch-bishop. Rather, he initiated a revolutionary
process that only reached its conclusion in the Ponti¿cate of Pontian,
with whom the martyr and presbyter Hippolytus had shared exile and
death in Sardinia following their reconciliation after their communities
had divided over the nature of the Trinity.28 The mark of the ¿nal trans-
formation of the Roman community into an episcopal monarchy is the
appearance against the names of Pontian and his successors’ real dates in
terms of speci¿c years, months, and days: monarchs have speci¿ed
27. Peter Lampe, Die stadtrömischen Christen in den ersten beiden Jahr-
hunderten (WUNT 2/18; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1989), 219–51, 320–45.
28. Brent, Hippolytus, 388–457. For the most recent statement of Brent’s case
against an early date for a monarch-bishop at Rome, see Allen Brent, “How Irenaeus
Has Misled the Archaeologists,” in Irenaeus: Life, Scripture, Legacy (ed. Sara Parvis
and Paul Foster; Minneapolis: Fortress, forthcoming).
periods in which they reign, presidents of philosophical schools merely

need to succeed one another at a time not needing such clarity of speci-
¿cation. Immediately subsequent to Pontian’s martyrdom and the bring-
ing back of his remains, Fabian his successor was to establish the nucleus
of the ¿rst papal mausoleum in the cemetery on the Via Tiburtina that
bears Callistus’ name.29
Though the controversy and division between Hippolytus’ predeces-
sor, the writer of the Refutatio, and Callistus has often been described
as a “schism,” with the former duly consecrated in opposition to the later
as an anti-pope, this has certainly been anachronistic and reÀecting a
post-Cyprianic conceptualization of church order. An analysis of Ref.
9–10 shows that the writer does not claim for himself the sole “chair of
episcopal oversight” (¿ÉŦÅÇË ëÈÀÊÁÇÈýË) for which his opponent Callis-
tus had yearned and which he mistakenly thought that he occupied
(Ps. Hippolytus, Haer. 9.11.1). Rather, a scene is described in which the
presbyter bishop of one group is, by a deliberate policy of absolving
those excommunicated by other presbyter bishops over other groups,
seeking to enlarge his own, despite the ancient canons that govern the
loose confederation of house churches according to which this should
never happen. Callistus
was the ¿rst to plan to allow people to yield to their pleasures, claiming
that they could all have their sins forgiven by him. For he who gathered
with a different person (È¸ÉЏ îÌšÉĿ ÌÀÅĖ ÊÍÅ¸ºŦÄ¼ÅÇË) and was called a
Christian, if he sinned, asserted Callistus, the sin would not be reckoned
to him if he would Àee to the school of Callistus. This rule pleased many
whose conscience had become hardened and at the same time, many who
under the inÀuence of many heresies became excommunicated, and some
who had been expelled from the church by us at an examination, attached
themselves to him and swelled into his school (»À»¸ÊÁ¸Â¼ėÇÅ)…and in their
vanity they attempted to call themselves the Catholic Church. (Ps.
Hippolytus, Haer. 9.12.20–21, 25)
Callistus had allowed bishops, priests, and deacons to remarry if

widowed, and had thus broken the ancient, New Testament discipline
that a bishop or deacon be “married only once” (1 Tim 3:2). By his
29. Brent, Hippolytus, 415–53, and The Imperial Cult and the Development of
Church Order. Concepts and Images of Authority in Paganism and Early Christian-
ity Before the Age of Cyprian (VCSup 45; Leiden: Brill, 1999), Chapter 8. For a
more recent re-assessment of this situation, see Allen Brent, “The Elenchos and the
Identi¿cation of Christian Communities in Second–Early Third Century Rome,” in
Des évêques, des écoles et des hérétiques, Colloque international sur la Réfutation
de toutes les heresies (ed. Gabriella Aragone and Enrico Norelli; Université de
Genève, Faculté de Théologie, June 13–14, 2008; Lausanne: Zèbre 2011).
fact, in 1 Cor 15, Paul says nothing about when the earth will give up the
rest of its dead, unless the mention of death being the last enemy to be
conquered refers to the raising of all the rest of the dead at the end of the
period of Christ’s reigning and before he turns the Kingdom back over to
the Father. Tertullian, as can be seen in Tabbernee’s essay, seems to
af¿rm a general resurrection of the dead at Christ’s return, and surpris-
ingly, considering how strongly he af¿rms resurrection, he seems to
think that the human story ends in a celestial rather than a terrestrial
locale. By this I mean that unlike Paul who sees the New Jerusalem
coming down to earth and staying there (see also Rev 21–22), Tertullian
seems to suggest that after the resurrection and the Final Judgment
Christians climb back up the stairway to heaven with Christ and rule
from above. This leads Tertullian to a very odd, almost Dispensationalist
reading of 1 Thess 4:13–18.
The Body of Evidence

Tertullian can perhaps be forgiven for some of his mis-readings of Paul
because the apostle does not always spin out all the implications of his
ideas as clearly as one might want. Take for instance the issue of the
pneumatikon soma referred to in 1 Cor 15. This, as it turns out, does not
mean a body made up of some ethereal substance called “spirit,” though
various exegetes through the ages have taken it that way,3 any more than
psychikon soma refers to a “soulish body.” The latter means a body
animated by life breath, the former means a body suffused with and
animated by the Holy Spirit. Tertullian may be forgiven for misreading
Paul at this point, and he is in good company in doing so.
But why is it so important that salvation involves bodies at the end of
all things? Tertullian’s answer would seem to be much the same as
Paul’s, namely, that God is a God of all creation, and he intends to
reclaim all that he originally made. It may be doubted, however, that
Paul would have agreed with Tertullian that God intends to annihilate the
present realm, whose “form is passing away” and replace it with a better
and more permanent realm. Restoration and renewal rather than replace-
ment seems to have been the apostle’s assumption.
Finally, a little something should be said about the asceticism of
Tertullian as a Montanist and Paul’s view of such matters. There can be
no doubt that Tertullian’s views evolved over time on this matter, and
3. See the detailed and very interesting discussion in Dale B. Martin, The
Corinthian Body (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999).
WITHERINGTON His Eminence Imminent 281
eventually he came to assume that sexual intercourse and even re-

marriage were too tainted to be a part of the world to come. This is not
Paul’s view, despite the frequent misreading of 1 Cor 7. There, Paul
makes clear that being married in the Lord should indeed involve
intercourse, except when one needed to be apart for a time of prayer. We
need to bear in mind that Paul is quoting Corinthian ascetics in the
sentence, “It is good for a man not to touch a woman,” not proffering his
own views on the matter. Indeed, he busily corrects the Corinthians and
tells them that being single for the Lord or being married in the Lord are
both valid charisma, grace gifts from God. At the same time, Paul does
not seem to agree with Tertullian that we will be married in heaven, for
Rom 7:1–4 makes evident that the surviving spouse is free from “the law
of the husband” when he dies. Marriage for Paul is an institution of God
meant for our earthly good, but it is something that is part of the schƝma
tou kosmou that is passing away.
It is the mark of a good essay that it stimulates deep thought about its
subject, and Professor Tabernee’s essay certainly does that. At the end of
the day we can see the profound indebtedness of Tertullian to Paul,
though even in matters eschatological he goes his own way in various
senses. Paul lived with great expectations but made no calculations about
when the End and return of Christ would come. Tertullian, it would
seem, ever the enthusiast, thought that events in Jerusalem and Phrygia
in his own day signaled or augured that “the end was at hand.” One thing
all such prognostications have had in common throughout church
history—they have had a 100% failure rate. Paul, in the end, was wiser
in the way he framed his eschatological reÀections than was Tertullian.
AFTERWORD:
TERTULLIAN AND PAULINE STUDIES
Todd D. Still
Why should Pauline scholars trouble with Tertullian? This is far from a
rhetorical question. Truth be told, Tertullian is not particularly well
regarded in most Pauline circles. He has a (well-deserved?) reputation as
a misogynist1 and supersessionist,2 and such perceptions, even when they
are hackneyed and stereotypical, have not endeared the Carthaginian
theologian to any number of erstwhile Paulinists and have arguably
discouraged many Neutestamentlers from learning more about the life
and work of the late second- and early third-century North African theo-
logian, apologist, and rhetor known to most people simply as Tertullian.3
As it happens, Paul has a checkered reputation himself among more than
his fair share of interpreters, both past and present, and has not escaped
being criticized as a prideful, power-hungry, patriarchal prude who
perverted Judaism on the one hand and Jesus on the other.4
1. See, e.g., Pauline Nigh Hogan, “Paul and Women in Second-Century Christi-
anity,” in Paul and the Second Century (ed. Michael F. Bird and Joseph R. Dodson;
LNTS 412; London: T&T Clark International, 2011), 226–43 (on 242 n. 57).
2. Calvin J. Roetzel (“Paul in the Second Century,” in The Cambridge
Companion to St. Paul [ed. James D. G. Dunn; Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2003], 227–41 [236]) notes that Tertullian referred to the “stupid obduracy of
the Jews” (Adv. Marc. 5.20) and concludes: “Thus Tertullian oddly presented a Paul
who was rooted in the religion of the Old Testament but who repudiated his native
Judaism.”
3. William Tabbernee sets forth “Tertullian’s” full name at the outset of his essay
in this volume—Quintus Septimius Florens Tertullianus. The learned sophistication
of the complex conversation that occurs among scholars of Tertullian, as seen in this
volume, might also serve as a something of a deterrent even for interested Paulinists!
For example, the painstaking distinctions some of our contributors can make
between Tertullian’s pre-Montanist and Montanist careers have been all but lost on
this editor!
4. See further Todd D. Still, “Paul: An Appealing and/or Appalling Apostle,”
ExpTim 114 (2003): 111–18.
Though geographical distance may seem large, there is a cultural

closeness over distance achieved, for example, by the exchange of news
of mutual interest by frequent travellers, letters, and so on, particularly
in connection with Carthage as the major port linking Rome with her
granary that was North Africa. Groups with such common purposes
experience a mutual sympathy that by such means transcend distance in
miles and in consequence experience a greater closeness than with other
groups that geographically are their neighbors. Once we have a success-
ful reconstruction of what our analysis has shown to be the real ecclesial
situation in the church of Rome in the early third century, we can see
how a clear ¿t will emerge between what Tertullian says about his
nameless bishop, and the behavior of Callistus at Rome recorded by the
anonymous writer of the Refutatio.37
Tertullian began the De pudicitia with the famous passage, which
reads as follows:
I hear that there has been published an edict (edictum esse propositum),
and that a ¿nal edict. The Pontifex (mark you!) Maximus, that is the
bishop of bishops (episcopus episcoporum), ordains: “I absolve both the
sins of adultery and fornication when penance has been performed.” O
edict to which there cannot be the appendage: “A good well done!” And
where is that generosity published? In the same place, I would think, [as]
on at the entrances of [houses of] lust, under the very arch that bears the
title of those houses. There penitence ought to have been declared where
the offence was committed. There you shall read of your pardon (venia),
where you enter in expectation of it. But this is read in the church, and in
the church it is proclaimed, and she is a virgin. (De pud. 1.6–8)
The passage is a highly rhetorical one. It is not, of course, referring to a

bishop actually issuing an edict of indulgence literally nailed upon a
church door, nor is it the title of Pontifex Maximus actually a title to
which any Christian bishop at the beginning of the third century would
have been happy in laying claim. What he is saying is that this particular
bishop was behaving like a pagan emperor issuing an edict generally
absolving mortal sin and claiming also the pagan and imperial sacerdotal
title of “High Priest” (Pontifex Maximus).
Tertullian’s bishop was not behaving like a normal bishop with normal
prerogatives in the Christ community over which he presided: the latter
is claiming to be an episcopus episcoporum with jurisdiction over all
other bishops. His behavior, of course, cannot to be understood in terms
37. One need only compare Tertullian, Adv. Prax. 1.6; De pud. 2.2; 7.22; and
Ps. Hippolytus, Haer. 9.12.20–25. For further discussion, see Brent, Hippolytus,
517–29.
of a medieval pope claiming universal jurisdiction over all other bishops

throughout the Mediterranean world, each in their own, far-Àung geo-
graphical territories. Rather, it must be understood of a situation rather
like that of the second-century Roman Church, fractionalized in a loose
confederation of different Christian house-school communities with
cultural differences drawn from their origins in different parts of both
Western and Eastern empires and presided over by their individual
presbyter-bishops. One bishop is arising and claiming sole jurisdiction
over other bishops—an ÒÉÏÀ¼É¸Ì¼ţ¸ rather than simply an Ď¼É¸Ì¼ĕ¸. It is
this description that precisely ¿ts the unique events taking place in Rome
and described by the Refutatio.
Callistus was accused of desiring “the chair of Episcopal oversight” by
a writer who has implicitly denied that there is only one such chair when
he has spoken of the presbyter-bishops over each house-school as both
successors (»À¸»ÇÏŢ) of the apostles and as sharing (Ä¼ÌšÏÇÅÌ¼Ë) in the
high priesthood (ÒÉÏÀ¼É¸Ì¼ţ¸) that they all hold together in common.38
Callistus, in other words, was claiming the title that Tertullian ascribes to
his anonymous bishop of Summus Pontifex on the grounds that he has
claimed exclusively the sole ÒÉÏÀ¼É¸Ì¼ţ¸. Tertullian is clearly, therefore,
commenting upon events that were taking place in his time uniquely
within the Roman community. It is perhaps for this reason that he takes
pains to emphasize in the De baptismo, as I have indicated, that each
individual bishop is summus sacerdos over a common priesthood shared
by the presbyterate and laity alike: he presides over the sacraments
because of his rank and not because of any essential distinction in the
character of his ministry in the Body of Christ.39
Let us now summarize Tertullian’s position in the historical develop-
ment of the episcopal of¿ce.
Conclusion
It would be a fundamental error to regard the difference between
Tertullian’s “Catholic” and “Montanist” phase as a difference between
adherence to a classical and sacerdotal view of Church Order that is
rejected by a new movement that claims the activity of the Holy Spirit
throughout the whole people of God in place of church hierarchy.
Such a view is highly anachronistic as it reads post-Reformation
distinctions upon the history of the early Church: it presupposes a settled
38. See the discussion above and associated text.

and established hierarchy with a coherent and supportive theological

discourse that only began to emerge with Cyprian. It is only in Cyprian’s
time that in the West the hierarchy of bishop, presbyters, and deacons
become sacerdotal, as it had been since Ignatius in the East, when a
Western presbyter ful¿lls the sacerdotal function of doing in the Eucha-
rist precisely what Christ did at the Last Supper and effects through
ordination the transmission of the Holy Spirit to both the baptized and
the ordained.40 Cyprian not only bears witness to a conÀuence of Eastern
and Western traditions on the character of sacred order by the second
half of the third century, but also he positively seeks to construct
tentatively and embryonically the role of the newly emerged monarch-
bishop at Rome in the episcopal collegium of the universal church.41
When he became a Montanist Tertullian did not therefore join a
charismatic movement that had separated from an episcopally governed
hierarchy, let alone a papal one that did not exist universally at a time
when the Roman community had only recently developed from a loose
confederation of house-school congregations into a structure presided
over by a monarch-bishop. It has been long recognized that Montanists
in Tertullian’s time did not constitute a separate church but remained a
controversial and troublesome group within the church of North Africa.
It was such an inner group that Tertullian joined.
How he exercised his Montanist convictions can be seen from the
De anima, where there is a description of a Montanist lady having
visionary experiences. But she enjoys these privately to herself whilst
“in the church (in ecclesia) and while the solemn rites of the Lord are in
progress (inter dominica sollemnia).” It is only “after the rites have been
performed (post transacta sollemnia) when the laity have been dismissed
(dimissa plebe)” that she now “will report to us (nobis) what she has
seen.” This takes place “according to our accustomed practice (quo usu
solet).”42 We should note that the ecclesia is clearly the usual Catholic
Eucharist community to whom the vision is not reported. It is only at the
conclusion that the visions are communicated “to us,” the spiritually
enlightened Montanist group who clearly gather with the psychics but
who go beyond their truncated vision. If this was the character of
Tertullian’s Montanism, Tertullian clearly always remained within the

41. See Brent, Cyprian, 57–68, 109–16, 290–94.
42. Tertullian, De an. 9.4. I follow here the interpretation of U. Neymeyr, Die
christlichen Lehrer im zweiten Jahrhundert. Ihre Lehrtätigkeit, ihr Selbstverständnis
und ihre Geschichte (VCSup 4; Leiden: Brill, 1989), 129–31.
Catholic Church where Cyprian located him with his description of him
as his master or teacher (magister).43
Given this character of his historical background, it would therefore be
quite wrong to see Tertullian as originally a defender of ecclesiastical
hierarchy but who then opposes that hierarchy when he participates in
a formal schism in a later sense. We have seen that, in his so-called
Catholic period, the role of bishop was that of high priest over the
priesthood of both laity and presbyterate, with his right to preside that of
honor and rank (ordo) conceived in terms of secular, Roman social
structure and not because of the exclusive possession of the power alone
to consecrate the baptismal waters. Tertullian’s “Catholic” bishop was in
the apostolic succession, but not like Cyprian’s because as a result of the
insufÀation of the Johannine Pentecost he alone could transmit the Spirit
through the Church. Rather, bishops were in the apostolic succession not
because the apostles had ordained them exclusively, since companions of
the apostles had also founded churches. What made them true successors
of the apostles was the “family resemblance” (consanguinitas) between
the content of their doctrine and that of the apostles, and the entrusted
È¸É¸¿ŢÁ¾ or depositum ¿dei that they handed on.
We have seen how Tertullian’s view of apostolic succession and the
transmission of the depositum revealed a blind spot in his reading of
Irenaeus and Paul in the New Testament. The view of the È¸ÉŠ»ÇÊÀË,
È¸É¸¿ŢÁ¾, or depositum ¿dei both in Irenaeus, Paul, and the Pastoral
Epistles, even if requiring an act of ordination, require also the action of
the Spirit through the imposition of hands that validates and renews the
teaching that is handed on. That blind spot revealed a lack in Tertullian’s
personal spiritual development that his Montanist experience was to ¿ll.
His opposition to Callistus was not that he was a bishop but that he
claimed to be more, an episcopus episcoporum who as a Monarchian he
believed to lack consanguinitas with the depositum ¿dei.
What Montanism gave Tertullian was a view of the Spirit in the com-
munity that his earlier, truncated vision of the character of the ordained
ministry had lacked. Blind to essential features of the Irenaean develop-
ment of the Pauline tradition of ordained ministry enlivened and renewed
by the Spirit, he had never possessed much spiritual conviction about the
sacramental character of sacred order in his “Catholic” phase. As an
individual Christian he therefore had a personal need of what Montanism
had to teach him.
43. Jerome, Vir. ill. 53.

FROM TERTULLIAN TO PAUL:
REFLECTIONS ON ALLEN BRENT’S ESSAY
ON TERTULLIAN AND BISHOPS
N. T. Wright
The topic of ministry has for too long been a “poor relation” in dis-
cussions of Paul. Major debates have raged on the meaning of “justi-
¿cation” and its relation to “being in Christ”; on the question of salvation
history and the future of Israel; on the sociological context of Paul’s
communities; on the possible interplay between Paul and the popular
philosophies of his day (particularly Stoicism); and, in a recent Àurry, the
apparent political implications of Paul’s language about Jesus as “lord”
in a world which gave that title to Caesar. Other topics are not forgotten:
occasionally some brave souls venture as far as asking about Paul’s
ethics; some of the sociological discussions have approached the ques-
tions of ecclesiology from new angles; but ministry…well, who has the
energy, after all these topics, to disturb the dust on that particular pile of
questions?
Allen Brent’s essay invites us to contemplate that task, but he raises
from the start some interesting questions about what we know of ministry
in the Pauline churches and how we know that. Hidden within that “how”
are questions of major presuppositions, which need to be named right up
front, though Brent only mentions them near the end. I refer to the
reading of “post-Reformation distinctions” into the history of the early
church.
Since most mainstream New Testament scholarship until the last couple
of generations was generated and driven from within German Luther-
anism, and a particular variety of Lutheranism at that, quite heavily
inÀuenced by various Enlightenment philosophical movements, not least
Idealism, it has been all too easy to assume a standard modernist version
of the post-Reformation position, which goes something like this. Paul,
in this picture, was a good Protestant, who preached justi¿cation by
faith, which (of course) meant that every believer has direct access to
WRIGHT From Tertullian to Paul 187
God apart from human deeds of any sort. Paul’s gospel, therefore, had
no room for any exalted ecclesiology or carefully calibrated view of
ministry. That was the sort of thing you would expect, at least, from
“early Catholicism”—a category invented by F. C. Baur in the mid-
nineteenth century to “explain” how the two main movements he imag-
ined in the very early period (“Jewish Christianity” and “Gentile
Christianity,” led by James [and Peter] on the one hand and Paul on the
other) came together around the turn of the ¿rst century to produce the
theology of people like Ignatius of Antioch. That essentially Hegelian
scheme could only be sustained by carefully weeding out of the genuine
Pauline corpus anything which looked suspiciously “catholic.” So
Ephesians and Colossians, with their high Christology (and Ephesians
with its list of ministries in ch. 4) are relegated to the “deutero-Pauline”
category; and, even more, the Pastorals, with all their detail about
ministry and church organization, have to go as well.
We are left, in that scheme, with the supposedly “early” (and by
implication “pure”) Pauline communities; and that is where Allen Brent
begins. He notes the “Pauline communities” of the early period, visible
behind the text of the Corinthian letters, and contrasts them with the
“deutero-Pauline communities” to which the Pastoral Epistles were
addressed. The early communities are described, often enough, as “char-
ismatic,” with “a charismatic church order in which ministry involved
the exercise of a personal charisma.” It is clear enough what this means:
a glance at 1 Cor 12 and 14 will show what to modern eyes looks like a
cheerfully semi-chaotic mixture of gifts and ministries, thrown together
into a pre-liturgical worship setting in which the community needs to be
reminded that God is a God not of confusion but of peace (1 Cor 14:33).
It is not only nineteenth-century liberal Protestants who have highlighted
this as the basic, presumably “pure,” early Christian worship. The
Romantic philosophy according to which the “primitive” experience is
the genuine reality and anything which introduces “formality” is a late,
degenerate corruption has soaked very deep into the consciousness of
Western modernity, producing all sorts of crises, by no means con¿ned
to the church, which would be amusing if they were not so damaging.
Churches that begin as free-and-easy “house-churches,” with no formal
leadership, ¿nances, liturgy, or buildings can develop all of the latter
quite quickly. If they do not have a thought-out and speci¿cally Christian
vision of how all those things work, perfectly properly, in a healthy
human society, such churches can all too easily assimilate to the rather
obvious models available in the surrounding culture. Anyone familiar
with the free-church scene in North America over the last two genera-
tions will ¿nd plenty of examples. That has not prevented an entire
generation of commentators taking for granted the divisions wished on

Paul in the nineteenth century. The fashions of scholarship then become
“laws of the Medes and Persians” which scholars challenge at their peril.
Thus, even conservative Protestants on the one hand, and scholarly
Catholics on the other, who wish to treat Ephesians, Colossians and the
Pastoral Epistles as part of the Pauline corpus, regularly feel the need to
justify this move.
Exposing the ideological roots of historical hypotheses—in this case,
the separation of the “early Pauline communities” visible in the Corin-
thian correspondence from the “deutero-Pauline communities” visible in
the Pastorals—does not mean for a moment, of course, that there are no
problems about accepting all thirteen “Pauline” letters as a single body.
One would have to be quite unobservant, for instance, not to notice that
the Greek style of 1 Timothy is signi¿cantly different from the whole of
the rest of the corpus; indeed, I have sometimes surmised that in terms of
style if 1 Timothy did not exist there would never have been a “problem
of the Pastorals.” However, stylistic variation is not everything. The
differences between 1 Corinthians and 2 Corinthians are striking (and
can be explained, I believe, by the very different mood of Paul in dictat-
ing the two letters), but nobody for that reason thinks they were by two
different people or reÀect a different theology. My only point—though
it is important precisely for discussions of ministry, sacraments, and the
like—is that just as Western Protestants have tended to retroject the
sixteenth-century debates about justi¿cation back onto Paul and his
“Judaizing” opponents (the main point of the so-called new perspective)
so it is more than likely that the same mainstream scholarship has
retrojected similar debates about church, ministry, and sacraments onto
Paul and his second- and third-century would-be followers. Thus, the
Pastorals come to represent a kind of middle stage, the beginning of the
formalization of ministries, between the early, charismatic Paul and the
later hierarchical and sacerdotal ministries that have so troubled
Protestant theologians. Tertullian and the others then represent various
positions in the differentiated attempt to reinhabit Pauline and other early
models. That, substantially, is the story Brent tells.
I put all this on the table from the start because it seems to me
that when we examine Paul himself—in the letters almost universally
acknowledged to be from him—then several things emerge which one
might not have imagined from the normal picture, and which show, to
my mind, that he offered a more nuanced and multi-layered background
to the developments of the second and third centuries than might be
imagined. Allen Brent rightly highlights the ministries of the word as
central to some of the developments in the second and third centuries and
shows how Paul’s all-important notion of the Spirit was sometimes
present and at other times disturbingly absent from some of those devel-
opments. But what I think needs to be probed more fully is the way in
which Paul himself, rooted as he was in Judaism, was perfectly happy to
do three things which the normal picture of liberal Protestantism would
have preferred him not to do.
First, he was able to discuss the Eucharist (in 1 Cor 10 and 11) in
parallel both to the Jewish Passover and to the sacri¿cial feasts of pagan-
ism. Second, he used, to our minds almost randomly, the language of
priesthood and sacri¿ce to highlight various aspects of his own ministry.
Third, he seems from the start to have seen the need for, and the appro-
priateness of, human ministries through which, by the Spirit, God’s
ordering and directing of the church would be accomplished. Though he
did not put these three things together in the way that writers two or three
centuries later were to do, I think the presence of all three in his writings
shows the weakness of the normal reading in which “Paul” plays the
romantic early charismatic and later thinkers like Tertullian get to play
the parts of the proto-Catholic villains responsible for the hardening of
the arteries of a previously vibrant, non-hierarchical, and non-sacerdotal
ministry. There was, of course, development; that is obvious. All move-
ments develop and adapt to new surroundings and challenges. The ques-
tion is whether those changes are driven from within, by drawing out
elements that are already latent, or from without, by importing into the
movement features borrowed from other cultures that are fundamentally
alien to what the movement was really all about.
Here there is a different problem, which we cannot explore here. Some
have seen Paul reacting against “Judaism,” so that any apparent borrow-
ing from Jewish sources represents a dangerous falling back into a
religion that Paul had left behind. Others see Paul as still a very “Jewish”
thinker, still reacting like a Jew against paganism, so that any borrowing
from paganism represents a dangerous decline. These are of course gross
oversimpli¿cations but they have been important in the debates.
The danger of that oversimpli¿cation shows up right away in the ¿rst
of our categories. In 1 Corinthians, Paul discusses the Eucharist in a way
which allows resonances to be heard both from Jewish ritual meals such
as Passover and from the pagan sacri¿cial cult. He does not seem as
concerned as his later interpreters to distance himself entirely from
either. Indeed, as has sometimes been pointed out, his eucharistic discus-
sions in 1 Cor 10 and 11 are a good example of a wider phenomenon:
had 1 Corinthians been lost, generations of liberal Protestants would no
doubt have complained to Catholics that Paul, the ¿rst Christian writer,
knew nothing of the Eucharist, which would then appear to be a late
innovation, a dangerous import of “Catholic” practice into Paul’s non-
liturgical churches, and of course projected ¿ctitiously back on to Jesus
himself, “on the night when he was betrayed.” As it is, however, we
know simply from these two chapters not only that the Eucharist was a
central and vital part of the Pauline churches but that Paul, in one of his
own rare appeals to “tradition,” insists that it goes right back to Jesus
himself.
The key passage is 1 Cor 10:14–22, where Paul uses both the Jewish
meals and the pagan ones as direct analogies to explain what is happen-
ing at the Lord’s Supper:
Therefore, my dear people, run away from idolatry. I’m speaking as to
intelligent people: you yourselves must weigh my words. The cup of
blessing which we bless is a sharing in the Messiah’s blood, isn’t it? The
bread we break is a sharing in the Messiah’s body, isn’t it? There is one
loaf; well, then, there may be several of us, but we are one body, because
we all share the one loaf.
Consider ethnic Israel. Those who eat from the sacri¿ces share in the
altar, don’t they? So what am I saying? That idol-food is real, or that an
idol is a real being? No: but when they offer sacri¿ces, they offer them
to demons, not to God. And I don’t want you to be table-partners with
demons. You can’t drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons. You
can’t share in the table of the Lord and the table of demons. Surely you
don’t want to provoke the Lord to jealousy? We aren’t stronger than him,
are we?1
Paul, of course, is explicitly distancing himself and his congregations

from the world of paganism; and yet the analogies hold. Pagan meals,
and even Jewish ones at their altars, are as it were pointers to the reality.
Verse 18 (“Consider ethnic Israel…”) allows us cautiously to guess that
if we had pressed Paul for more explanation about the blessing of the
cup and the breaking of the bread he might have unpacked those ideas,
and the notion of “sharing” he mentions there, precisely in terms of altar
and sacri¿ce. The idea of “sharing” (my translation here for the root
koinonos) is the same in both cases: the bread and wine are the koinonia
of the Messiah’s body and blood, on the analogy of those eating the
sacri¿ce become koinonoi with the altar—in other words (we must
assume), with the God who meets Israel at that altar.
1. Translation from N. T. Wright, The Kingdom New Testament: A Contem-

porary Translation (New York: HarperOne, 2011), a work published in the UK as
The New Testament for Everyone (London: SPCK, 2011). Unless otherwise noted,
all subsequent translations of the New Testament are from this version.
This short exegetical step is some way, of course, from the idea of a
speci¿c vocation or authorization to certain persons that they, rather than
others, should preside at the Lord’s Supper, or that when doing so they
should be thought of in “priestly” terms. Yet, to move to our second
point, Paul does use just that language of himself in other contexts, in a
way which makes it slightly less unlikely than is often thought that he
would be comfortable with “priestly” language in the way it was later
developed in the church. To put it another way: if Paul had been as
worried about “priestcraft” as the average Western Protestant has been,
he would certainly have stayed away altogether from the language we
¿nd him using in, for instance, Rom 15: “…the grace which God has
given me to enable me to be a minister of King Jesus for the nations,
working in the priestly service of God’s good news, so that the offering
of the nations may be acceptable, sancti¿ed in the holy spirit” (Rom
15:15–16). Here is Paul, going up from Greece to Jerusalem, and speak-
ing in terms reminiscent of a priest going up from his village to offer
sacri¿ce in the Temple in Jerusalem—only now the sacri¿ce is not an
animal to be killed, but the offering of the Gentile nations. The Greek is
ambiguous: hƝ prosphora ton ethnon, “the sacri¿ce of the Gentiles,”
could be either “the sacri¿ce which consists of the Gentiles” (i.e., which
Paul is bringing and offering) or “the sacri¿ce which the Gentiles are
making” (i.e., which they are bringing and offering through Paul’s work).
Paul here seems to be referring to the eschatological promise of Isa 66:20
(“They shall bring all your kindred from all the nations as an offering to
the Lord,” NRSV), with echoes too of Mal 1:11 (“in every place incense is
offered to my name, and a pure offering”). Obviously this is not the same
as the eucharistic use of Malachi by Irenaeus, but it is not a million miles
away, in my judgment, either. In any case, and perhaps not least because
of these resonances, Paul is not worried about using “priestly” language
at this point, even though it will awaken echoes of the Jerusalem cult. On
the contrary, it all seems to be quite deliberate.
This may be the moment to make another point about anachronis-
tic readings: for some reason the Reformers regularly warned against
Catholic sacramentalism on the grounds that the Mass, seen as a sacri¿ce,
was both an addition to the once-for-all sacri¿ce of Christ on the cross,
and also in consequence a human “good work” designed to earn God’s
favor. Paul never even hints at that kind of critique of the Jerusalem
sacri¿cial cult, nor does any such polemic play any role in his exposition
of “justi¿cation by faith.” He would no doubt have agreed with the Letter
to the Hebrews that the cult was made redundant by the death of Jesus,
but it remained a good, God-given ordinance, and carried no negative
overtones when he referred to it, as here, metaphorically.
Similar cultic language is used in Phil 2: “Yes: even if I am to be

poured out like a drink offering on the sacri¿ce and service of your faith,
I shall celebrate, and celebrate jointly, with you all” (Phil 2:17). This lan-
guage, once again, echoes both Jewish and pagan practices. Though it is
more clearly stretching the metaphor, with the Philippians’ faith being
the “sacri¿cial animal” and Paul’s own life being the drink offering
poured on top, Paul is still quite happy to use a metaphor which would
have alarmed many of his modern Protestant readers.
This brings us to our third category. As Allen Brent points out, Paul
himself believed that his own calling as an apostle included the vocation
to stand over against the “potential charismatic chaos,” and bring his
authority to bear with a view, as he says, not to pull down but to build up
(2 Cor 13:10). But this, we may surmise, was not out on a limb in terms
of his overall theology. There is not, after all, such a great theological
gap between the list of “spiritual gifts” in 1 Cor 12 and the list of
“ministries” in Eph 4; and both reÀect the deeply Jewish and Christian
belief that humans are made by the creator God in order to reÀect his
wise stewardship into the world. For Paul, Jesus the Messiah is of course
the one true “image” of the living God (2 Cor 4:4; Col 1:15); but all
those who are called by the gospel are called to be conformed to that
“image” (Rom 8:29; Col 3:10). For Paul, this “image-bearing” capacity
necessarily involves the work of humans in bringing God’s will to pass
within his world; humans are neither mere passive recipients, nor spec-
tators, of God’s saving work, but having been called by grace they are
put to work within those gracious purposes by God’s spirit.
There is a whole other question, too large for our present purposes, as
to the extent to which Paul’s ordering of ministries within his newly
founded churches (as in the famous greeting in Phil 1:1) reÀects genuine
innovation or an attempt to reproduce, within the body he could refer to
as “the Jew” (Rom 2:28) or “the circumcision” (Phil 3:3), the ministerial
and organizational structures, such as they were, of the ¿rst-century
synagogue. Any attempt to trace developments from Paul to Tertullian
and beyond ought, I think, to take careful note of that context. What I
suggest, though, behind and beyond such possibilities, is that Paul’s
theological understanding of human societies and of individual human
roles within them was consonant with his belief that in Jesus the Messiah
the one true God had brought about his new creation, already launched
though yet to be consummated, and that his view of speci¿c vocations
within the Messiah’s body has just that combination of human dignity
and task, on the one hand, and humility and service on the other, which
characterizes all through his “now and not yet” eschatology, here applied
to humans and their work in particular.
It seems to me clear, therefore, over against any ultra-Protestant (or

ultra-Romantic!) notions of a Àat egalitarianism in which no Christian
was ever called to exercise authority over any other(s), that Paul devel-
oped quite naturally, albeit in a rudimentary fashion, a theological under-
standing of a differentiated ministry. All this took place, of course, under
the rubric of dying to self and coming alive to God in the Messiah and
the power of the Spirit, but it pointed forward nevertheless to the recog-
nition by the community, and the exercise by the individual, of speci¿c
gifts for the service of all, for the building up of the Messiah’s body. It is
within this larger framework, it seems to me, that all Allen Brent says
about the ministry of the word and the handing on of traditions then takes
place. By themselves such elements are telltale signs of a larger whole;
the larger whole is the entire Pauline vision of the calling of humans to
share in the work of the kingdom of God.
For Paul, all of this was itself framed within that remarkable narrative
of “new exodus” which he believed had taken place, and was taking
place, in and through Jesus and his Spirit. The Corinthians are taught to
look back to the ¿rst exodus in order to understand their own lives and
the dangers they now face (1 Cor 10). Paul uses “exodus” language in
two central passages to frame not only his account of the redeeming
work of God in Christ but also the new life of the Spirit (Rom 8:12–17;
Gal 4:1–7). I suspect there is much yet to learn about Paul’s view of
ministries within the church by reading the now-traditional questions
within this larger story, and I suspect that when that is done all kinds of
things in Irenaeus, Tertullian, and other fathers will gain more resonance
with the apostle than might before have appeared (for instance, the
typology of baptism, not just as a sign of new creation, but more speci-
¿cally in relation to the crossing of the Red Sea). And, of course, with
that same narrative we ¿nd precisely the ¿gures of Moses and Aaron, the
prophet/teacher and the priest, who as Brent has shown ¿gure as models
for some early teachers.
Putting all this together, I believe we can see in Paul, whatever we
say about the provenance of the Pastoral Epistles, the outlines and rudi-
ments of a theological understanding of the church in which, by the
Spirit’s leading, men and women are called to exercise responsibility
and/or authority in the church; in which, among the ministries thus
highlighted, Paul might well speak in the language of the Jerusalem cult;
and in which, among other activities of the church, the Eucharist might
be spoken of in the same way. This is not to say, of course, that Paul had
developed, as it were in embryo, that understanding of ministry which
came to be expressed by the great Fathers of the second, third, and fourth
centuries. But it is to say that when we ¿nd those ideas being explored
and developed in the ways they were, we should not suppose that the
Paul of the “early charismatic” community would have been horri¿ed at
the very thought. He would have insisted—this is after all what 2 Corin-
thians is all about—that the marks of an apostle, and likewise of a
presbyteros, an episkopos, or a diakonos, or indeed their female equiva-
lents, were the signs that revealed, through the paradox of suffering,
the glory of God in the face of Jesus the Messiah. Insofar as this out-
line program for Christian ministry anticipated both the “Catholic” and
“Montanist” elements in Tertullian’s life, Paul might have hoped that the
great theologian could have held them together more securely and
permanently, but he would have wanted strongly to af¿rm the God-given
nature of both.
8
TERTULLIAN AND PAUL:
THE WEALTH OF CHRISTIANS
Helen Rhee
Tertullian, the elite Christian apologist and the ¿rst Latin theologian
at the turn of the third century, was an adult convert with a classical
education and signi¿cant resources who was familiar with and demon-
strated sophisticated Roman literary culture in Carthage.1 We see a broad
spectrum of social locations among Tertullian’s audiences and commu-
nity. Tertullian addresses his treatises to Christians of “birth and wealth,”
particularly women (e.g., De idol. 18.3, 9; De cul. fem. 2.9.4–6; Ad. ux.
2.3–4, 8), and he refers to the Christian “women and men of highest
rank” (Ad Scap. 3.4; 4.5–6; 5.2; cf. Apol. 37.4), slave owners (De pat.
10.5; De paen. 4.4; De res. carn. 57.12; Adv. Marc. 1.23.7), the unedu-
cated (Adv. Prax. 3.1), and the poor (De pat. 7.3; cf. De pat. 15.3; Adv.
Marc. 4.14.2), and favors Christian marriage between social unequals
(Ad ux. 2.8.). However, the subject of the wealth of Christians is neither
self-contained nor systematic in Tertullian’s writings in general, and in
Tertullian’s reading of “the Apostle” in particular.2 It is scattered in
his works, but his views of wealth conform to his overall vision of
Christianity as the speci¿c manifestation of and testament to Christian
identity, conduct, and reality in the pagan world. While he employs
different rhetorical and rational arguments to get his points across on this
matter, Tertullian draws on the two main authorities when he uses the
Scripture: dominical teachings and examples (recorded in the Synoptic
Gospels) and the Pauline Letters. As I proceed, I will ¿rst note brieÀy
Tertullian’s interpretive approach to the Scripture as it pertains to our
topic. Then, I will trace Tertullian’s treatment of wealth (and poverty) in
1. See Timothy D. Barnes, Tertullian: A Historical and Literary Study (Oxford:

Clarendon, 1971), 69, 195–96; Geoffrey D. Dunn, Tertullian (London: Routledge,
2004), 5.
2. This is how Tertullian typically refers to the Apostle Paul in his treatises.
light of his larger theological framework and polemical and controversial

contexts. Finally, I will point out the ways in which Tertullian engages in
this topic by using the Pauline texts in a few of his writings—both how
his reading of Paul expresses his view on wealth/the wealthy and
poverty/the poor and how the latter also affects the former.
Tertullian as an Exegete of the Scripture

If there are any general principles in Tertullian’s use and exegesis of the
Scripture, they would be his claims that only the genuine Christians, not
the heretics, had the right to use and interpret the Scripture, which has its
internal unity as God’s revealed truth, and that the church’s regula ¿dei
should be the authoritative norm and guide for a correct scriptural inter-
pretation by the Christians.3 Nonetheless, these hermeneutical principles
were still subject to the most fundamental goal of his writings: “to attain
a certitude that the opponent cannot undermine by any form of argu-
ment” and “a clarity which admit of no ambiguity” whether in combating
heretics, defending Christianity against pagans, or persuading or debat-
ing with fellow Christians.4 To this end, a consistency is not necessarily
his exegetical method or principle, but his controversial and polemical
contexts and his vision of Christianity drawn from the Scripture; the
former is relative to the latter and his audience and style become occa-
sional depending on the particular controversy or argument of the
opponents with which he was dealing.5 For Tertullian, “the Scriptures
were to be interpreted in whatever way best supported the faith believed
and lived by the Christian community,” whether it be allegory, typology,
or literal reading in their historical context although his striving for a
certitude and a clarity through simple and concise reading led him to
favor the literal interpretation by and large.6 “Holy Scripture is,” in
3. On this topic, see J. H. Waszink, “Tertullian’s Principles and Methods of

Exegesis,” in Early Christian Literature and the Christian Intellectual Tradition:
In Honorem Robert M. Grant (ed. W. R. Schoedel and R. L. Wilken; Paris: Beau-
chesne, 1979), 17–31; Geoffrey D. Dunn, “Tertullian’s Scriptural Exegesis in de
praescriptione haereticorum,” JECS 14 (2006): 141–55; L. William Countryman,
“Tertullian and the Regula Fidei,” SecCent 2 (1982): 208–27; John F. Jansen,
“Tertullian and the New Testament,” SecCent 2 (1982): 199–207. See also, in
general, Thomas P. O’Malley, Tertullian and the Bible: Language, Imagery,
Exegesis (Nijmegen: Dekker & Van De Vegt, 1967).
4. Waszink, “Tertullian’s Exegesis,” 19, 30, respectively.
5. Dunn, “Tertullian’s Scriptural Exegesis,” 151; also Heinrich Karpp, Schrift
und Geist bei Tertullian (BFCT 47; Gütersloh: Bertelsmann, 1955), 21–29.
6. Dunn, “Tertullian’s Scriptural Exegesis,” 155.
RHEE Tertullian and Paul 197
Tertullian’s context of polemics then, “to be cited as a witness for the

correctness of his statements and assertions, and the only thing required
from witnesses is that they be reliable.”7 This also proves to be the case
in his discussion of wealth.
Tertullian on Wealth, the Rich, and the Poor

When Tertullian addresses or makes references to wealth (and poverty),
it is directed to Christians who are already on the journey of Christian
faith and yet must persevere to the end (cf. De prae. haer. 3.6). As a
“seal” of salvation that brings about remission of sins, rebirth, and the
gift of the Holy Spirit,8 baptism marks a new beginning of a life-long
upward journey toward maturity and perfection in imitation of God
which requires constant vigilance, discipline, struggle against tempta-
tions and vices, and cultivation of virtues until the end.9 In order not to
fall from grace after baptism, a Christian must refrain from sin and pro-
gress in sanctity by assiduous disciplines and good works (cf. De paen.
7.10; De pud. 1.10). His characteristic way of understanding this life
of salvation is consistency between inner reality and virtue of Christi-
anity and its outer expression and conduct, or lifestyle.10 In this effort to
achieve consistency, “fear (timor) is the true foundation of our salvation
(salus), whereas presumption is a hindrance to fear…for apprehending
will lead us to fear, fearing to caution, and caution to salvation” (De cul.
fem. 2.2.2–3). Christians’ ful¿lling of God’s will on earth through their
visible obedience to God’s disciplines enables the ful¿llment of God’s
will in heaven and effects their salvation in heaven and on earth (De or.
4.2). Therefore, Christian appearance, discipline, good works, and merit,
clearly laid out by God’s law and will as the external means of ascertain-
ing Christian truth and faith, are crucial indicators of the internal state of
the soul and absolutely critical and integral to one’s salvation (e.g., De or.
4.2; 5.1; De paen. 6.4; De exh. cast. 2.3; Adv. Marc. 2.6.7; 4.31.1). For
this reason, Tertullian gives meticulous attention to disciplinary matters,
7. Waszink, “Tertullian’s Exegesis,” 19.

8. De paen. 7.10; De bapt. 4–5; 12. Cf. other contemporary Christian under-
standings of baptism, such as, Herm., Vis. 3.3; Sim. 8.2.2; 9.13; Mand. 4.3; Justin,
1 Apol. 1.61; Theophilus, Autol. 2.16; Origen, Hom. Lev. 2.4.5; Acts Paul 25; Acts
Thom. 121.
9. Cf. Clement of Alexandria, Strom. 6.105.1; 6.71.3–72.1; Quis. div. 3, 40;
Origen, Hom. Josh. 1.6; De or. 29.13.
10. Dennis E. Groh, “Tertullian’s Polemic Against Social Co-Optation,” CH 40
(1971): 7–14 (13).
even matters of spectacles, modesty, veiling, dress, ornaments, wealth,

and a soldier’s crown, in his treatises.11 All of these should conform to
the law of Christ that is established by Scripture, attested by nature, and
carried out by discipline (De virg. vel. 16.1–2). Addressing the wealthy
Christian women of Carthage in On the Apparel of Women (De cultu
feminarum), Tertullian links their dress, cosmetics, and apparel to their
salvation: “Salvation…not of women only, but also of men, is especially
to be procured in the observance of modesty (in exhibitione…pudicitiae).
For, since we are all temples of God because the Holy Spirit has entered
into us and sancti¿ed us (Nam cum omnes templum Dei simus, inlato
innos et consecrato Spiritu Sancto), modesty is the sacristan and
priestess of that temple” (De cul. fem. 2.1.1; cf. 1 Cor 3.16; 6.19; 2 Cor
6.16). For Tertullian, “we” as the temples of God refer to not “merely” a
corporate Christian community but also individual Christians (pl.) into
which the Holy Spirit entered and consecrated; that is, it is a matter of
individual (personal) piety as well as corporate experience. The inner
work of the sanctifying Spirit must manifest in each Christian who con-
stitutes the Christian assembly, that is, in the modesty of each Christian
who represents the whole Christian community (to the pagans). Indeed, it
“is not enough for Christian modesty merely to be, but also to be seen.
Its fullness ought to be so great that it Àow out from the mind to the dress
and erupt forth from the conscience unto the surface, so that even from
without it may survey, as it were, its ornament, which may be ¿t for
faith’s maintaining forever” (De cul. fem. 2.13.3; Groh’s translation).
The salvi¿c faith must show itself in the world by each Christian and
carry exact external or visible form, otherwise it is not faith at all.12
In this overall vision of salvation and Christian life, wealth, which is
essentially granted by God but is fraught with dangers, temptations, and
problems to souls and human relationships, presents Christians a unique
challenge and opportunity to demonstrate their spiritual state and perse-
vere in their salvation and thereby to distinguish themselves from
pagans. First of all, Tertullian takes up the issue of wealth, the rich, and
the poor in his anti-heretical polemic, Against Marcion, where he defends
the fundamental unity of God in the Old and New Testaments as both the
Creator and the Redeemer against Marcion’s dichotomy between the two
and radical asceticism in rejection of the material world. In this context,
Tertullian points out that God the Creator, who out of his generosity
supplied the Israelites with material provisions and made Solomon rich,
11. Cf. ibid.

12. L. Raditsa, “The Appearance of Women and Contact: Tertullian’s De Habitu
Feminarum,” Athenaeum 63 (1985): 297–326 (305).
does grant material things and riches to his people because by them the
rich get “ease and comfort, and with them are performed many works of
justice and charity” (opera iustitiae et dilectionis) (Adv. Marc. 4.26.5–9;
4.15.8; 4.29.1). While God and money are antithetical as the latter is “the
author of unrighteousness, and the tyrant of all human society” (14.33.1),
and while God does condemn boastfulness of riches (divitiarum gloriam,
14.28.11), Christ, who showed the unity of God, rather than ridding
money away from God’s service, advises us to use worldly possessions
to procure ourselves future friendships and support, that is, eschatologi-
cal salvation (14.33.1–2 on Luke 16:1–17)—attested by the example
of the servant who, when dismissed from of¿ce, acquitted his lord’s
debtors by reducing their debts. Taking up Luke 17:21, where Jesus tells
the Pharisees, “The kingdom of God is within you,” Tertullian strongly
exhorts “everyone” to interpret the phrase, “within you,” as “ ‘in your
hand,’ ‘within your power,’ if you give ear, if you do the commandment
[sg.] of God” (4.35.12). Tertullian, who interprets this verse in light of
Deut 30:11–14, says that the kingdom of God is in his commandment
and his commandment is in our mouths, in our hearts, and in our hands
to do it (4.35.13), just as the will of God is to be done and the kingdom is
to come in our capacity to do it (De or. 4.2; 5.1). In the words of Ramsey
Michaels, “[the kingdom’s] presence depends on something they [the
Pharisees] must ‘do’.”13
Then, how does Tertullian understand what “the commandment of
God” (dei praeceptum) is? Commenting on the discourse between Jesus
and the rich young man (Luke 18:18–22) who asked Jesus, the “Good
Teacher” of God’s commandment, how he could obtain eternal life,
Tertullian indicates the signi¿cance of Jesus’ answer in pointing the rich
man to the “Creator’s commandments [pl.], in such form as to testify that
by the Creator’s commandments [pl.] eternal life is obtained” (4.36.4,
italics added).14 To the rich man’s answer that he had kept them since his
youth, Christ did not rescind those former commandments (the Deca-
logue) but “both retained these and added what was lacking,” namely,
selling all that he had and giving to the poor (4.36.4–5).15 “And yet,”
Tertullian writes, “even this commandment [sg.] of distributing to the
13. J. Ramsey Michaels, “Almsgiving and the Kingdom Within: Tertullian on

Luke 17:21,” CBQ 60 (1998): 475–83 (480, italics added).
14. On Tertullian’s interpretation of Luke 17:21 and of almsgiving as God’s
commandment leading to the kingdom/eternal life in the story of a rich ruler in Luke
18, see ibid., 479–83.
15. Compare “all that thou hast” (quaecunque habes) in 4.36.4 with “what you
have” (quae habes) in 4.36.7.
poor is spread about everywhere in the law and the prophets,” so that it
led to “the boastful commandment-keeper’s” conviction of “having
money in much higher esteem” and, therefore, not to his attainment of
salvation (4.36.5, italics added). In this context, Tertullian’s idea of
God’s commandment (sg.), without which eternal life could not be
obtained, is precisely “distributing [one’s possessions] to the poor” and,
with that addition, Jesus “both conserved and enriched” the Decalogue
and proved that he ful¿lled the Mosaic Law (4.36.6). By “distributing to
the poor” Tertullian does not mean literal abandonment of wealth (volun-
tary poverty) but almsgiving. Almsgiving, a visible act, ful¿lls both
doing justice and loving mercy of Mic 6:6 and the “one thing” required
by Christ for salvation (4.36.7; cf. 4.27.6–9). Thus, for Christians,
wealth, while given by God, does not have any value in itself except in
giving and sharing and therefore as an instrument to attaining salvation
through works of charity as it has been in the Old Testament.
How about Tertullian’s view of the rich and the poor? Discussing the
beatitudes and the woes in the Gospel of Luke (6:20–22),16 Tertullian
af¿rms that with the very character and attributes of God the Creator17
who “always expresses his love for the indigent (mendicos), the poor
(pauperes), the humble, and the widows and orphans, comforting,
protecting, and avenging them” (4.14.2; 4.14.13; cf. 5.3.6)18 throughout
the Old Testament (Isaiah in particular), Christ, “the comforter of the
indigent” (4.15.8), identi¿ed his ministry as proclaiming the good news
to the poor from the outset (Luke 4:18), blessed the poor, and pro-
nounced to them the ownership of God’s kingdom (4.14.7; cf. Ad ux.
2.8.5). At the same time, Christ’s disapproval of the rich, expressed in
his woes (Luke 6:22), testi¿es to the Creator’s own disapproval of them
throughout the Old Testament (prophetic texts in particular) (4.15.6–8).
Christ’s woe to the rich, which came from the Creator himself, adds a
16. The Lukan Gospel was the only Gospel included (albeit in an abridged form)
in Marcion’s canon along with ten Pauline Letters (not containing the Pastoral
Letters). Hence, Tertullian calls the Lukan Gospel “your gospel” (5.3.6).
17. This is typically how Tertullian addresses the God of the Old Testament,
against Marcion who believed the creator god in the Old Testament was ignorant,
vengeful, and different from the Supreme God, the Unknown Father of Christ the
Redeemer, who was purely spiritual and did not create the material world.
18. Note Tertullian’s distinction between the indigent (the absolute poor) and the
poor (the relative poor), corresponding to the typical distinction in Greco-Roman
society. For Clement of Alexandria and Origen, as for most Christian writers,
perhaps except Hermas, the poor typically meant the indigent (ptǀchoi), not the
“working poor” (penƝtƝs).
new threat against the rich besides his dissuasion from riches (4.15.13);
for the rich have already received their comfort from their worldly riches
due to “the reputation they bring and the worldly bene¿ts” (4.15.9). For
Tertullian, both Testaments (as the Scripture is one) are straightforward
with and consistent in “God’s preferential option for the poor.” Tertullian
takes for granted the pious poor and the oppressive rich tradition19 and
does not allegorize or interiorize wealth and poverty or the rich and
the poor, as his contemporary Alexandrian colleagues (e.g., Clement of
Alexandria and Origen) do.
Tertullian’s Reading of Paul and the Wealth of Christians

De patientia
We continue Tertullian’s understanding of the wealth of Christians
especially in this section with his reading of Paul scattered in some of his
writings. In the context of addressing Christian patience in the face of
many ills in life, including the loss of property, Tertullian initially frames
his argument after the dominical example of indifference toward money
(De pat. 7.2). The Lord “has set disdain for wealth ahead of the endur-
ance of losses, pointing out through his rejection of riches that one should
make no account of the loss of them” (De pat. 7.3). The Lord, who
himself was poor (“without money”), “always justi¿es the poor and
condemns the rich” (De pat. 7.3). Here Tertullian not only con¿rms the
inherited notion of the pious poor and the wicked rich but also intensi¿es
his (Christian) devaluation of wealth with a citation of the Lord’s own
example of repudiating wealth. Since the Lord did not seek wealth, we
need not seek it either and “ought to bear the deprivation of even the
theft of it without regret” (De pat. 7.4).
Tertullian intends to show the unity of the scriptural teaching (thus to
prove his point) by citing the Apostle Paul. The Spirit of the Lord (i.e.,
the author of Scripture) through the apostle (who certainly followed the
Lord’s teaching) called “the desire of money (cupiditas) the root of all
evils” (1 Tim 6:10; De pat. 7.5; cf. De idol. 11.1). Tertullian translates
Greek pleonexia (“love of money”; greed) to cupiditas (cf. Vulgate:
avaritia) and interprets that the desire of money refers to “the desire for
that which belongs to another” (concupiscentia alieni tantum constitu-
tam) (De pat. 7.5). What is implied here is that “love of money” is more
19. Note Adv. Marc. 4.28.11: “I have already in another connection suf¿ciently
proved that boastfulness of riches is condemned by our God, who puts down the
mighty from their seat and lifts up the poor from the dunghill” (cf. 1 Sam 2:8).
than hoarding one’s own possessions (which turn out to be not one’s own
anyways) through miserliness or displaying them through conspicuous
consumption as commonly treated in Greco-Roman moral writings
(e.g., Plutarch’s On Love of Wealth [De cupiditate divitiarum]). It is the
acquisitive spirit which by nature is never satis¿ed with one’s own but
always crosses a boundary of one’s “private property” for something that
belongs to another. However, note Tertullian’s next statement that “even
that which seems to be our own belongs to another” (nam et quod
nostrum uidetur alienum est). “Another” here turns out to be not another
human being but God, for Tertullian immediately points out that we
(human beings) own nothing and God is the owner of all things, includ-
ing us (De pat. 7.5; cf. Ps 24.1). Thus, any possible opposition claiming
that one does not commit cupiditas since s/he is concerned or preoccu-
pied only with one’s own properties and does not covet those of others
becomes moot. If Christians fret and are impatient for “their” material
loss, they “will be found to possess a desire for money (cupiditas), since
[they] grieve over the loss of that which is not [their] own” (De pat. 7.6).
Tertullian’s interpretation fundamentally characterizes cupiditas as a
spiritual problem rather than a social problem (though they are certainly
connected). Hence, when a Christian is unable to bear his or her material
loss, s/he sins directly against God (De pat. 7.7), since cupiditas is
essentially an offence to God’s sovereign ownership and a false and
pretentious claim to our non-ownership. Then, an impatient Christian
also behaves like a pagan by valuing earthly goods over heavenly goods
and thus exhibiting a serious attachment to the world (De pat. 7.11)
which manifests in reluctance in almsgiving (to the needy) (De pat. 7.8);
but patience to endure loss is a “training in giving and sharing” since the
one “who does not fear loss is not reluctant to give” (De pat. 7.9).
Therefore, just as patience is a virtue that de¿nes Christian’s relationship
with God and his/her “neighbors,” impatience in loss is a vice that
disrupts and eventually destroys both vertical and horizontal relation-
ships. As pagans are unable to endure loss, just consider to what extent
they would go in order to pursue wealth: “they engage in lucrative but
dangerous commerce on the sea; …they unhesitatingly engage in trans-
actions also in the forum, even though there be reason to fear loss; they
do it, in ¿ne, when they hire themselves out for the games and military
service or when, in desolate regions, they commit robbery regardless of
the wild beasts” (De pat. 7.12). In contrast, it be¿ts Christians “to give
up not our life for money but money for our life, either by voluntary
charity or by the patient endurance of loss” (De pat. 7.13).
De cultu feminarum
As impatientia over material loss reveals one’s inordinate desire for and
attachment to wealth, which was inspired by none other than the Satan
(De pat. 5.3–4), this nefarious desire is closely associated with the two
other motives, ambitio and gloria, with which Tertullian further probes
the problem of wealth and its acquisition and manifestation.20 ReÀecting
the current use of these terms in wider literature, for Tertullian, ambitio
is “desire without proper limits,” which manifests itself in the immoder-
ate desire for or the unrestrained use of wealth.21 In On the Apparel of
Women, in which he addresses the wealth of Christian women that is
exhibited in their extravagance and luxury of dress and adornment (cf.
De or. 20.1–2), Tertullian de¿nes ambitio as a vicious cycle of an unend-
ing movement with boundless desire: from scarcity (of goods/material,
not from its origin or use) is born the “desire to possess” (concupis-
centiam…habendi); from this desire to possess comes ambitio, that is,
immoderate desire (immoderate habendi)” (De cul. fem. 1.9.1–2). From
this unlimited ambitio is born “a desire of glory” (gloria), a “grand
desire” for magni¿cence and self-exaltation, which in turn does not
come from nature or truth but from “a vicious passion (concupiscentia)
of the mind” (De cul. fem. 1.9.2; 2.9.5). Then, the insatiable desire for
wealth (ambitio and cupiditas) and the unrestricted desire for self-
aggrandizement (gloria) feed upon each other and, along with the “want
of suf¿ciency” (insuf¿cientia), result in the “worldly concupiscence”
(concupiscentia saeculi) of striving for visible honors, luxuries, dignity,
and power of this passing world under God’s wrath (Ad ux. 1.4.6; cf. De
cul. fem. 2.3.2; 2.9.5; De idol. 18). The toxic power of gloria and ambitio
is so potent that “one damsel carries the whole income from a large
fortune on her small body” (1.9.3). They in fact drive and characterize
Roman social, political, religious, and intellectual life with pursuit of
public ostentation, praise, vanity, and conspicuous consumption (e.g., De
cul. fem. 2.9.5; 2.10.1; 2.11.1; Adv. Marc. 4.34.17; Apol. 38.3; De pal.
4.6; De an. 52.3; De spect. 25.3). And although Christ abolished
the worldly glory (De idol. 9.4), the gloria tempts and contaminates
wealthy Christian women in particular in the latter’s efforts of “glorying
in the Àesh” and in the world as the opposites of Christian humility
20. This paragraph is partially dependent on Dennis Groh’s classic study, Groh,
“Christian Community,” 71–74.
21. Ibid., 72, and “Tertullian’s Polemic,” 9. For examples of these terms in the
Latin texts, see Groh, “Christian Community,” 72–73, 152–54; “Tertullian’s
Polemic,” 9 nn. 14–15, 10 nn. 23–25.
(De cul. fem. 2.3.2; 2.9.5; cf. De virg. vel. 13.2), suf¿ciency, modesty
(Ad ux. 1.4.7), and frugality (De spect. 7.5).
Tertullian indeed makes sure that his “fellow servants and sisters” get
the clear and close connection among the twin vices of ambitio and
gloria, luxurious cultus (dress consisting of gold, silver, jewels, precious
stones, and clothes) and licentious ornatus (cosmetics including care of
hair, skin, and body), and their diabolical origin contrary to Christian
modesty. Women’s ornaments and make-up are the inventions of the
fallen angels (who were attracted to women by their natural beauty; cf.
Gen 6:2) because they wanted to make women offensive to God, like
themselves, knowing that “all ostentation, ambition (ambitio), and love
achieved by carnal pleasure would be displeasing to God” (De cul. fem.
1.2.4). Cultus serves ambitio for gloria (i.e., impressing people in
public), while ornatus appeals to sensuality leading to wantonness (De
cul. fem. 1.4.2; 2.3.2–3).
Instead of distinguishing themselves from the pagan women, subject
to the same worldly concupiscence by ambitio and gloria, the wealthy
Christian women—they are the ones who display “licentious extrava-
gance of attire” (De cul. fem. 2.1.3), “anoint their faces with creams,
stain their cheeks with rouge, or lengthen their eyebrows with antimony”
(2.5.2), “dye their hair blonde by using saffron” (2.6.1), frequently
change hairstyles in dressing their hair, even with elaborate hairpieces
and wigs (2.7), and cover their bodies with “a lot of frilly and foolish
pomps and luxuries” (2.9.1). Due to their “wealth, birth, or former
dignities,” these wealthy converts feel compelled to “appear in public
in overly elaborate dress” and thus “give rein to unbounded license”
under pretext of necessity (2.9.5). Tertullian might have had the women
from a similar social status in mind in To His Wife (Ad uxorem) when he
alluded to those Christian widows who would desire remarriage because
of “ponderous necklaces, …burdensome garments, …Gallic mules,
…German bearers, which all add luster to the glory of nuptials” (Ad ux.
1.4.7) and even remarriage with pagans because they could not ¿nd
Christian men of their social rank (Ad ux. 2.8.3) and would eventually
follow pagan practices—beauty of her body (formam), dressing of the
head, worldly elegancies, and seductive charms (Ad ux. 2.3.4).
Just as the detrimental vertical and horizontal sin and consequence
of “desire for money” (cupiditas) and impatience (impatientia), their
ambitio and gloria manifested in cultus and ornatus commit a double
crime. On the one hand, these Christian women who pursue their beauty
through these contrived and extravagant means sin against God and do
violence to God since (they show) they are not satis¿ed with God’s
creative skill and censure his handiwork by amending their looks from a
rival artist, the devil (De cul. fem. 2.5.2–3). It is essentially sin of decep-
tion and covetousness because they “lie in their appearance” and “seek
for that which is not [their] own” (2.5.5; cf. De pat. 7.5). Just like the
desire for money, the desire for beauty is ¿rst and foremost violence and
rebellion against God’s sovereign ownership and creative workmanship.
Therefore, by their pride (superbia)22 and action, they prove that they are
un¿t and unable to keep God’s commandments without which they
cannot achieve salvation: “How can you keep the commandments of God
if you do not keep in your own persons the features which He has
bestowed on you?” blasts Tertullian (2.5.5). On the other hand, these
women also sin against their “neighbors” since they “excite concup-
science in others” and thus become “the cause of perdition to another
[i.e., men]” (2.2.4); those men commit inner fornication and perish as
soon as they look upon the external beauty (formam) of those women
with desire, since the Lord’s expansion of the law made no distinction in
penalty between actual affairs (stuprum) and lustful desires (2.2.4; cf.
Matt 5:17, 23). However, the Scripture commands us to love our
neighbors as ourselves (e.g., Matt 19:19; 22:39; Rom 13:9; Gal 5:14; cf.
Lev 19:18) and not to seek only our interests but those of our neighbor
(2.2.5; as the apostle says in 1 Cor 10:24; 13.5; Phil 2:4). Tertullian notes
that this teaching of the Holy Spirit (i.e., again, the author of Scripture;
cf. De pat. 7.5; Adv. Marc. 5.7.2; De res. carn. 13.3) should be applied
whenever useful (i.e., as widely as possible), including this matter at hand
(2.2.5). Therefore, women (in general) must rid themselves of ornatus
(and cultus) as well as “natural grace” because the pursuit of beauty in
principle is dangerous not only to self but also to others (2.2.5).
Like a good lawyer and rhetorician, Tertullian anticipates several
oppositions and takes them head on one by one: ¿rstly, what about
“enjoying the simple praise that comes to beauty and to glory in a bodily
good (laude formae sola frui et de bono corporis gloriari licet)” without
sensuality (luxuria) but with chastity (2.3.2)? Tertullian answers that it is
simply impossible and mounts the evidence from the Pauline texts. To
begin with, “there can be no studious pursuit of glory” for Christians
since glory by nature is exaltation, which is incongruous and incom-
patible for professors of humility according to God’s precepts” (2.3.2). If
all glory, as Tertullian de¿nes and understands it, is vain and foolish,
how much more so is glorying in the Àesh (gloriari in carne) (Gal 6:13;
cf. 1 Cor 3:21; 5:6; Phil. 3:3)? In this string of several Pauline para-
phrases, he uses the verb glorior to express the biblical kauchaomai, “to
22. Cf. De or. 20.2.

boast” (as in De or. 22.9, quoting 1 Cor 4:7; and Adv. Marc. 5.6.13,
translating 1 Cor 3:21; Adv. Marc 4.28.11),23 and thereby enhances its
sense of misplaced con¿dence and unwarranted pride in self-exaltation.
A Christian cannot “boast” or feel con¿dent about the body (corpus)
even without sensuality and with chastity because the very perception of
physical beauty in society depends on pride and exaltation, which are
antithetical to God’s law.24 Tertullian sets up an apparent “Pauline”
antithesis between the spirit and the Àesh by saying that if Christians
must glory in something, it should be in the spirit and in “those things in
which we hope for salvation” as pursuers of spiritual things (2.3.2–3; cf.
Rom 8:8–9). The only way a Christian woman can and will glory in her
Àesh (in carne) is by enduring torture for Christ’s sake so that the spirit
may be “crowned” in it, not by attracting “the eyes and sighs of a young
man” (2.3.3). However, Tertullian turns the Pauline antithesis between
the spirit and the Àesh as the “carnal nature” (carnis = sarx) into the
antithesis between the spirit and the body, soma (corpus as well as
carnis), as he uses corpus (in the opponent’s question) and carnis (in his
response) interchangeably. As far as Tertullian is concerned, seeking
beauty of physical body is always tinged with boasting in sinful
wantonness (luxuria) and self-exaltation.
Secondly, some opponents might say, “May we not use what is ours?
Who is forbidding us from using our wealth (lit. utemur nostris) to
beautify ourselves?” (2.9.6). Tertullian tackles this opposition in two
ways: ¿rst, it is none other than the Apostle Paul who warns us “to use
this world as if we did not abuse it” (uti monet mundo isto quasi non
abutamur, 2.9.6; cf. 1 Cor 7:31). The apostle tells us: “The fashion of
this world (habitus huius mundi) is passing away. And those who buy,
let them act as though they possessed not (qui emunt, inquit, sic agant
quasi non possidentes)” because “the time is growing short” (tempus in
collecto est, 2.9.6; 1 Cor 7:31, 30, 29, respectively; cf. Ad ux. 1.3.3).
Tertullian contextualizes the apostle’s eschatological argument on celi-
bacy and marriage from 1 Cor 7.25 If the apostle advised a voluntary
ascetic lifestyle (abstinence from marital relationship, wine, and meat)
because of the fast-approaching end of the world then (there are in fact
“many” who follow just that now), what would he think about all of the
vanities of these wealthy women who, with all of us, now live in the
“extreme end of time” in God’s predestined plan and thus should rather
23. Cf. Groh, “Tertullian’s Polemic,” 11.

24. Cf. Raditsa, “Appearance of Women,” 308.
25. Tertullian deals with this passage more directly in his discussion on pref-
erence of celibacy to marriage in Ad ux. 1.3 and De exh. cast. 8.
castigate and “emasculate” the world (2.9.6–7; cf. 1 Cor 10:11)? They
have no excuse, according to Tertullian, since “you have used your
wealth and ¿nery quite enough, and you have plucked the fruit of your
dowries suf¿ciently before you came to know (receive) the teaching of
salvation (salutarium disciplinarum)” (2.9.8). In fact, Tertullian has
already introduced an eschatological argument in an earlier chapter when
he appealed to the expectation of resurrection to change their appearance
in the present (2.7.3). If the pure (i.e., natural) Àesh and spirit alone will
rise up on that Day of Christ,26 why do you mask yourselves in outra-
geous ornatus here and now (cf. 1 Thess 5:23)? “Let God see you today
such as he will see you on the day of your ¿nal resurrection” (2.7.3).
Based on the apostle’s arguments, Tertullian wants the urgency of the
last judgment to bring these wealthy Christian women into contact in the
present and to change their appearance and behavior here and now.27
Who is forbidding use of their own wealth? Second, it should be none
other than themselves! Well, it is true that God created and provided all
things, including gold, precious stones, production of purple garments
and ornaments, and permitted their use (2.10.1–4). However, it was
precisely for “testing the moral strength of his servants, so that in being
permitted to use things [i.e., cultus and ornatus], we might have the
opportunity of showing our self-restraint (continentia)” (2.10.5). Tertul-
lian suggests different levels of moral strength in his analogy of wise
masters offering and permitting things to servants to test them: the
blameworthy—those servants who use them without restraint (i.e., the
opponents wearing cultus and ornatus); the praiseworthy—those servants
who use them with moderation and honesty; the most praiseworthy—the
servants who practice total abstinence, “thus manifesting a reverential
fear of the kindness of the master” (2.10.6). He then ¿nds the con¿rma-
tion of his point in the apostle’s words: “ ‘All things are lawful, but not
all things are expedient’ (1 Cor 10:23; 6:12). It will be much easier for
one to dread what is forbidden, who has a reverential fear of what is
permitted (Quanto facilius illicit timebit qui licita uerebitur)” (2.10.6).
What is permitted (“lawful”) is not as good as what is preferred (“expedi-
ent”) (cf. Ad ux. 1.3.4).28 What is merely lawful or permitted may not be
26. Tertullian equates the resurrection with the Second Coming and the judgment
here.
27. Cf. Raditsa, “Appearance of Women,” 312.
28. His explanation of the difference between the permission (marriage) and
preference (celibacy) in Ad uxorem in fact ¿ts well in this context: “There are some
things which are not to be desired merely because they are not forbidden, albeit they
are in a certain sense forbidden when other things are preferred to them; for the
harmful but is not intrinsically good, whereas what is expedient or

preferred is intrinsically good and pure because it is positively pro¿table,
helpful, and useful (to the soul) (cf. Ad ux. 1.3.5). When one prefers the
lofty, it necessarily entails turning away from the low (cf. Ad ux. 1.3.5).
Despite his strong disapproval, condemning tones, and appeal to the
judgment thus far, Tertullian wants to woo these wealthy converts to
voluntary abstinence from what is lawful yet low, namely, cultus and
ornatus, out of “reverential fear” of God and for their salvation (2.10.6;
2.2.2–3), appealing to their moral discernment, capacity, and responsibil-
ity resulting from their Christian identity.
The third objection comes from their apparent fear that “the [Chris-
tian] name should not be blasphemed in us by making some derogatory
change of our former style of dress” (2.11.3). This objection directly
bears upon the concerned opponents’ social status and reveals the kind of
social circle of which they were a part. Tertullian has chastised their
“need” to appear in public in fancy dress because of the “desire to see
and to be seen” just prior to this objection (2.11.1); for no occasion of
Christian service such as visiting the sick, attending the sacri¿ce
(Eucharist), or listening to God’s word necessitates any luxurious attire
(2.11.2). However, the fact that he concedes to the occasions that they
are “required to go out because of friendship or (of¿cial) duty to some
Gentile” does point to their position in the high society of Roman North
Africa (2.11.2). Yet, from Tertullian’s perspective, those occasions
(festivals, spectacles, religious rites, etc.) are the very opportunities for
those elite women to “show off” their distinctive Christian armor—plain
dress and “natural grace” without conspicuous cultus and ornatus—so
that they may be an example to their “Gentile” friends and that those
friends may also be edi¿ed in them (2.11.2; cf. 1 Cor 10:23). This is
what it means to let “God be magni¿ed in your body,” as the apostle said
(cf. Phil 1:20; 2 Cor 6:20); God is glori¿ed in their body through
modesty, which means through dress (habitus) that is suitable to modesty
(2.11.2). Once again, Tertullian reads the apostle in such a way as to
ascertain his argument at hand. After all, for Tertullian, the whole point
is “distinguishing between the handmaids of God and of the devil” in
preference given to the higher things is a dissuasion from the lowest. A thing is not
‘good’ merely because it is not ‘evil,’ nor is it ‘evil’ merely because it is not ‘harm-
ful.’ Further: that which is fully ‘good’ excels on this ground, that it is not only not
harmful, but pro¿table into the bargain. For you are bound to prefer what is
pro¿table to what is (merely) not harmful. For the ¿rst place is what every struggle
aims at; the second has consolation attaching to it, but not victory” (Ad ux. 1.3.5–6;
see also De exh. cast. 8).
public in their attire (2.11.2) as this distinction in appearance is critical

to their Christian identity. Therefore, this objection, which comes in dis-
guise of genuine Christian concern that their “new” modest, plain appear-
ance will hurt Christian reputation among the high-ranking pagans, is not
received well at all by Tertullian. Instead, he retorts in his characteristic
sarcasm: “It is, indeed, a great blasphemy if it is said of one of you:
‘Since she became a Christian she walks in poorer garb!’ ” (2.11.3). It is
rather their fear “to appear to be poorer from the time that [they] have
been made richer and to be more shabbily clothed (sordidior) from the
time when [they] have been made more clean” that may count more as a
blasphemy than the words of the pagans (!) (2.11.3). Tertullian presents
an unequivocal choice before them: “Should a Christian walk according
to what is pleasing to the Gentile or according to what is pleasing to
God?” (2.11.3). In this Tertullian implicitly endorses voluntary down-
ward mobility in Christian appearance while censuring any (external)
effort to maintain (boastful) social status (cf. Ad ux. 2.8.3–5).
The ¿nal objection questions the necessity of human approval on this
matter; the opponent claims to seek the approval of God who sees the
human heart after all, not the human testimony (2.13.1; cf. 1 Sam 16:7;
1 Kgs 16:7; Jer 17:10; Luke 16:5; cf. 1 Cor 4:3). While Tertullian does
not confront this objection per se, he blends and juxtaposes “the Lord’s
sayings” that highlight the importance of Christian “showing” and “shin-
ing” before people of and in the world (2.13.1–2; Matt 5:14–16; Mark
4:21; Luke 8:16; 11:33). Intending to accentuate the unity of the Scrip-
ture again, Tertullian states that the Lord spoke through the apostle: “Let
your goodness (probitas) appear before people” (2.13.1; Phil 4:5, 8; cf. 2
Cor 8:21); it is the same Lord who said, “Let your works shine [before
people]” (Matt 5:16). These New Testament witnesses overwhelmingly
testify that “showing” Àows from and attests to truth, for “what is good,
provided it be true and full, does not love the darkness; it rejoices to be
seen and exults in being pointed out by others (gaudet uideri et ipsa
denotatione sui exultat)” (2.13.2, italics added). Quite contrary to the evil
of glorying in the Àesh, this is how one glories in the spirit—one must
“desire to see and to be seen” in public by what is good (i.e., modesty),
not by lascivious cultus and ornatus (cf. 2.11.1). Again, truth that does
not show itself in public is not truth, and faith that does not show itself in
public is not salvi¿c faith.
De idololatria
As one can see, Tertullian drives a clear wedge and tension between
Christian identity and the world (saeculum) and is concerned and anx-
ious to protect the purity of the former from the in¿ltration of the latter
as the wealth of Christians and its desires and displays (e.g., cultus and
ornatus) constitute among the most visible boundary markers. Christians’
attitude toward and use of wealth with attendant consequences can either
clarify or obscure the Christian–pagan boundary, and blurring this dis-
tinction amounts to committing idolatry as the latter denies God the
honors due to him by offering them to others (such as wealth, position,
self, and other created things) (De idol. 1.3). In his treatise On Idolatry
(De idololatria), Tertullian saw right through the dilemmas of day-to-day
living for Christians, including the artisans, traders, and magistrates
whose works, commercial transactions, and socio-political responsibili-
ties could put them in danger of committing idolatry and could not be
neatly compartmentalized or harmonized with their Christian commit-
ment (as seen by Tertullian).29
Since in idolatry are “the concupiscences of the world” driven by
gloria with “the ambitio of dress and ¿nery” (ambitione cultus et
ornatus), it threatens to blur a Christian identity not only in religious and
political arenas but also in social contacts and economic sectors such as
occupations and commercial transactions (De idol. 1.4; cf. 13.2; Ad ux.
1.4.6; cf. De cul. fem. 1.9.1–2; 2.3.2; 2.9.5). In an attempt to expose the
extensive domain of idolatry and its rami¿cations, Tertullian argues that
the makers of idols are guilty of idolatry (De idol. 5–8), particularly
targeting the excuses (objections) of the idol makers which utilize the
Pauline passages (5.1–2). They argue that they must be allowed to exer-
cise their art as Christians because: ¿rst, they have nothing else to live
by; second, the apostle who says, “as each is found, so let him remain/
persevere” (ut quisque fuerit inventus, ita perseveret), allows them to
stay in their art (1 Cor 7:20); and third, the same apostle also commands
the Christians to earn their own living by the work of their hands
according to his own example (uti minibus suis unusquisque operetur
ad victum) (1 Thess 4:11; 2 Thess 3:7–12; Eph 4:28; cf. 1 Cor 4:16)
(De idol. 5.1–2). Tertullian simply rejects their ¿rst economic argument;
they have no right to live unless they live according to God’s law, not
their own (5.1). Tertullian then refutes their “Pauline” arguments by a
29. In his earlier apology ostensibly addressing a pagan audience, he stressed

Christians’ “full participation” in Roman society and daily interactions with their
“Gentile” neighbors in forum, meat market, baths, shops, factories, inns, weekly
market, and “the rest of the life of buying and selling” (Apol. 42.2); he denies that
Christians are ascetics or unpro¿table in business because “we sail ships…[go] to
market with you…and our living depends on you” (Apol. 42.3). Tertullian also
emphasized Christians’ reliability and success in banking business in Ad scap. 4.7:
“We never deny the deposit placed in our hands.”
reductio ad absurdum.30 If one interprets the apostle’s statement in an

absolute sense, as they are doing with their excuses (i.e., by applying his
words to everything done with the hands), we may all persist in our sins;
and everyone is a sinner because Christ came down precisely to save
sinners (5.2)! Furthermore, if their interpretation is right, all evil prac-
tices done by hands may be defended, such as those by bath-thieves,
robbers, forgers, and actors who work with their hands for living (5.1–2)!
Finally, “If there is no exception of the arts which God’s discipline does
not allow (i.e., if their argument is right),” then let the church be open to
all who make their living by the work of their own hands—in whatever
way they may be (5.3)! By his reductio ad absurdum Tertullian (with his
stinging sarcasm) underscores the absurdity of the interpretation by these
idol makers who are now “proven” to have abused the apostle’s words to
persist in their sin.
What about those who do not make idols per se but furnish the neces-
sary attributes of the idols (e.g., temple, altar, insignia, votive offering,
etc.)? They are equally, if not more, guilty of idolatry for they give idols
authority beyond mere forms or images (8.1). The economic excuse of
needing to secure sustenance is not valid here either since these crafts-
men (e.g., stucco-workers, painters, marble-mason, bronze-workers, and
engravers) can readily earn their livelihoods by applying their skills to
many other arts that are “secular” (e.g., mending roofs, applying plasters,
decorating walls, making chests, etc., 8.2–3). Another economic excuse
that “there is difference in wages and the rewards of handicraft” does not
hold either. Tertullian answers: “Likewise there is also a difference in
the labor required; smaller wages are compensated by more frequent
earning” (8.3). In other words, the work of making an idolatrous attribute
may be fairly lucrative, but the “secular” works compensate the differ-
ence by their availability and frequency. At this point, Tertullian offers
the most ironic explanation for his argument. Compared to the number of
walls that need images and the number of temples and chapels that are
built for idols, there are countless houses, of¿cial residences, baths, and
tenements that need their crafts (8.4). Take just one example: ¿ne
slippers and sandals are gilded daily but Mercury and Serapis are not!
The fact that luxury (luxuria) and ostentation (ambitio) (which are
distinctively pagan characteristics) have always been more frequent than
any form of superstition (superstitio) works in favor of these Christian
artisans and craftsmen in their efforts to turn away from idolatry (if they
are really serious about it) (cf. 8.4). Ambitio requires fancy dishes and
30. Tertullian: De Idololatria (trans. and commentary by J. H. Waszink et al.;

Leiden: Brill, 1987), 14.
cups sooner than superstition, and luxuria demands wreaths more than
religious ceremonies (8.4–5). They can work off of and bene¿t from the
pagan ambitio and luxuria, though of course should not imitate them. In
his attempt to dissuade these artisans from any “contamination of
idolatry,” Tertullian capitalizes the vices of the pagan society to the
advantage (or survival) of Christians.
Then, Tertullian deals with the question of whether trade (negotium) is
a ¿tting occupation for a Christian, free from idolatry (De idol. 11).31
Like the other contemporary Christian authors, and as already mentioned
elsewhere (De pat. 7.5), Tertullian clearly sees the fundamental motive
of trade as covetousness (cupiditas; pleonexia in Greek),32 which,
according to the apostle, is the root of all evil (1 Tim 6:10) and has made
some “shipwrecked about faith” (1 Tim 1:19) (11.1). In fact, the same
apostle also called covetousness idolatry (Col 3:5; cf. Eph 5:5) (11.1).
Here Tertullian gives “extra emphasis to the wickedness of covetous-
ness” with the double citation from the apostle;33 thus, “the argument
becomes typically Tertullian: apart from the question of idolatry, trade
means cupidity, which is idolatry!”34 If covetousness, which is accom-
panied by mendacity and perjury by the way, disappears, Tertullian asks,
“What is the motive for acquiring? When the motive of acquiring ceases,
there will be no necessity for trading” (11.1). However, for the sake of
argument, suppose for a moment that there might be some righteous
pursuit of gain. Trade is still guilty of idolatry if it supplies any items
used for sacri¿ces to the pagan deities, however indirectly it may be,
such as frankincense and public victims (11.2–7), for it creates the
possibility of an agency for idolatry. Not all trade might be combated
in this way (11.2), but “no craft, therefore, no profession, no form of
trade contributing anything to the equipment or formation of idols will
be free from the charge of idolatry” (11.8). Again, no excuse based on
the necessity of securing sustenance (“I have nothing to live by”) is
acceptable because, ¿rst of all, a Christian trader should have considered
this matter before he accepted the faith (12.1). But even now the sayings
and examples of the Lord, who calls the poor blessed, commands to sell
everything and distribute to the poor, and demands single-minded
31. This is another indication of the presence of those Christians in Carthage who
were engaged in making idols or the “attributes” of the idols and also in providing
supplies related to sacri¿ces to the idols (whom Tertullian attempted to dissuade
from those activities).
32. E.g., Herm., Sim. 4.5; 8.8.1; 9.20.1; Vis. 3.6.5–7; Irenaeus, Adv. haer. 4.30.1.
33. Tertullian: De Idololatria (Waszink), 201.
34. Tertullian: De Idololatria (Waszink), 199.
discipleship, show his entreaty of poverty and provision for posterity to

be groundless (12.2). Rather, our dear ones, handicrafts, trades, and pro-
fessions should be left behind for the Lord’s sake with God’s almighty
help (12.3–4). Faith “must no less despise hunger than any kind of
death” for God’s sake (12.4).
Finally, for those Christians with wealth and birth, that is, the Roman
and civic elite and the rich in general, the social tension and dilemma
would have been urgent and pressing. The very social, religious, and
political roles (all intertwined) through patronage and euergetism they
were expected to play, were part and parcel of holding public of¿ce and
power (e.g., offering sacri¿ces, maintaining the temples, funding spec-
tacles, theaters, festivals, baths, and even judging), and endangered
polluting their Christian identity (cf. De idol. 17.2–3). However, “All the
powers and dignities of this world are not only alien to, but enemies of
God,” spurts Tertullian (De idol. 18.8). These Christians might protest
that those functions were merely part of their societal responsibility due
to their birth and substance and therefore there is no way to avoid those
civic obligations (cf. De idol. 18.1, 4, 9). By implication, they were
demanding that their inseparable civic and social ties and functions
should be separated from their Christian (religious) identity. To that,
Tertullian answers that the attire (priestly insignia) and pomp of these
of¿ces are already tainted with idolatry and thus make these functions
closed to Christians (De idol. 18.1–4). As a matter of fact, Christ, our
example, rejected worldly glory (gloria saeculi), honor, and dignity,
“which he did not want, and he condemned what he rejected, and what
he condemned, he consigned to the pomp of the devil” (De idol. 18.7).
Thus, “[F]or avoiding it, remedies cannot be lacking; since, even if they
be lacking, there remains that one by which you will be made a happier
magistrate, not in the earth, but in the heavens [i.e., martyrdom]” (De
idol. 18.9). On the one hand, as for Tertullian, the interlocking web of
socio-economic and political position and pagan idolatry, the very way
the Greco-Roman society operates, deceives Christians into insidious
enslavement to the present world as though they could settle for com-
partmentalizing their Christian identity without having to renounce and
separate from the whole system. On the other hand, other Christians
would attempt to disentangle perfunctory religious customs (“idolatry”)
from those interwoven socio-economic and political fabrics of society so
that they could maintain their faith without jeopardizing their socio-
political livelihood and standing and serve their Christian communities
utilizing their “worldly” and “unrighteous” resources and inÀuences.
Overall, as Christianity moved up the social ladder in this period,

Tertullian tended to disapprove of business affairs and commercial activi-
ties, linking them to the inordinate acquisitiveness of the (Christian) rich
and those who tried to be rich, that is, the middling group who could
have had hope and chance of upward social mobility, through those
engagements.35 The messages of not seeking to gain wealth and envy the
rich36 that accompanied disapproval of trade and avarice and to assume
the positions of honor and power (e.g., De idol. 18) as un-Christian
activities and disposition would have discouraged social mobility,37
though it could have also been a reaction/response to the social reality of
strong presence of those socially mobile populations in local Christian
assemblies.38 For Tertullian (like other Christian leaders), wealth itself is
morally neutral (though clearly dangerous), and following the cultural
understanding, inheritance is the superior form of acquiring wealth to
trade or business, which reveals his idea about socio-economic order (cf.
Eusebius, H.E. 8.14.10). Indeed, while Christianity attracted not insub-
stantially the socially mobile groups, upon becoming Christians, they
would have to give up aspirations for upward social mobility (through
accumulation of earthly fortunes)—although this implicit and explicit
message against social mobility was not likely followed by those who
were able, in reality, to move upward. Tertullian’s vision of society,
however, was largely conservative and static. People’s stations (loci)
were ordained by God (e.g., De cul. fem. 2.9.1).39 Even all the worldly
powers and honors were to be rejected as the enemies of God (De idol.
18.8). Thus, “There was an irreconcilable incompatibility between social
mobility and Christian community—between the opportunities and status
of human community and the commitment to divine community.”40
Ironically, while Christian identity was partially and indirectly associated
with social immobility, Christianity of this period unprecedentedly
penetrated into the circles of the socially prominent and elite.
35. Those who put con¿dence in “the [business] transactions that have made
them rich” are condemned in On Riches 37, attributed to Peter of Alexandria.
36. Cf. Clement of Alexandria, Quis div. 2; Peter of Alexandria, On Riches 55.
37. Cf. Robert M. Grant, Early Christianity and Society (San Francisco: Harper
& Row, 1977), 123.
38. This kind of message would be repeated by the bishops throughout Late
Antiquity (e.g., John Chrysostom, Hom. 1 Cor. 15.6).
39. Cf. 1 Clem. 38.2; Clement of Alexandria, Quis div. 3, 26; Peter of
Alexandria, On Riches 66; Cyprian, Epp. 3.1.1; 8.1.1; cf. 12.1.1.
40. Groh, “Christian Community,” 69.
Conclusion
This essay has attempted to show the dynamics between Tertullian’s
views of and arguments concerning the wealth of Christians and his
reading of the Apostle Paul in light of his hermeneutical principles,
vision of Christianity, and controversial and rhetorical contexts. For
Tertullian, wealth originates from God himself, the Creator, Owner, and
Distributor of all things, but is a signi¿cant identity marker for Christians
that should set them apart from the surrounding pagan values and
society. On the one hand, Tertullian basically associates the desire for
and acquisition and display of wealth with the concupiscence of the
world for self-exaltation and status, and thus dangerous and destructive
for Christians; wealth in this way disrupts the relationships with God,
fellow humans, and the self. On the other hand, Tertullian acknowledges
and advises the constructive use of wealth for the works of charity—
(alms)giving and sharing—which is in fact the only redemptive purpose
of wealth for Christians; wealth in this way demonstrates and con¿rms
the salvation of its possessor, who must persevere to the end. Tertullian
does not admonish divestment of wealth but voluntary restraint in pursuit
and display of wealth (especially in female dresses, ornaments, and
cosmetics) necessary for curbing immoderate desire for wealth, which is
idolatry. Thus showing is being, and being necessitates showing in
Christian faith. In all of these points, the words of the Apostle Paul serve
for Tertullian as authoritative and correct witness, second to and in
support of the dominical words and examples, to his ideal of Christianity
as he regards himself as the authoritative and correct interpreter of the
apostle.
HELEN RHEE, TERTULLIAN,
AND PAUL ON THE WEALTH OF CHRISTIANS:
A RESPONSE
Warren Carter
Reading Tertullian Reading Paul

Reading Helen Rhee reading Tertullian reading Paul highlights contours
of Tertullian’s concerns about wealth. For him, appropriate actions con-
cerning wealth are, along with other external Christian behaviors such as
“spectacles, modesty, veiling, dress, ornaments, wealth, and a soldier’s
crown,” manifestations of one’s inner salvi¿c status and progress.
Restrained displays of wealth are one of a number of important markers
attesting Christian identity. Rhee notes that for Tertullian wealth origi-
nates from God, but it can be dangerous for Christians. It should be used
for almsgiving and sharing. He does not, though, require his wealthy
Christian addressees to divest themselves of wealth. Tertullian thus
simultaneously disapproves of, yet sanctions, their wealth.
Rhee foregrounds Tertullian’s use of 1 Tim 6:10 (“the desire for
wealth is the root of all evils”) as foundational for the negative attitudes
to wealth evident in his pastoral address. This “desire” or acquisitive
spirit is a spiritual more than a social problem because it offends against
“God’s sovereign ownership” of all things and betrays our own human
non-ownership. While this desire does not, in Tertullian’s analysis, offend
against other humans by, for example, depriving them of resources, it
certainly has unacceptable social expression as Tertullian’s invective
against wealthy and beauti¿ed women shows. These women cause others
to sin—women who desire to be like them and men who desire to be
with them. Their own sin comprises false con¿dence and “pride in self-
exaltation” (Paul’s “boasting” [1 Cor 4:9 and 3:21]). They fail to heed
the force of Paul’s eschatological argument concerning celibacy and
marriage in 1 Cor 7, namely, that they should attend to the fast approach-
ing end of the world with voluntary abstinence from their own beauti-
¿cation and with modesty in a “voluntary downward mobility” of
appearance.
CARTER Helen Rhee, Tertullian, and Paul 217
Rhee also discusses Tertullian’s concern that the boundary between

Christian identity and the non-Christian world not be crossed in day-to-
day living, especially in matters concerning idolatry. Rhee notes that
Tertullian is concerned with “artisans, traders, and magistrates whose
works, commercial transactions, and socio-political responsibilities could
put them in danger of committing idolatry.” Tertullian argues that those
who make idols are guilty of idolatry. He dismisses arguments that
appeal to the Pauline Letters to claim that idol makers who become
Christians should remain in their former state (1 Cor 7:20) and should
work with their hands (1 Thess 4:11). Likewise, traders engage in
“covetousness” which is idolatry according to Tertullian’s Paul in Col
3:5 and Eph 5:5.1 Rich, high-status Christians face signi¿cant challenges
because of social expectations of patronage, euergetism, and public
of¿ce with responsibilities for “offering sacri¿ces, keeping up the tem-
ples, funding spectacles, theaters, festivals, baths…” Tertullian argues
that all such activities are so “tainted with idolatry” that Christians
should not engage in them. Tertullian also attacks business and commer-
cial activity as acquisitive and as involving un-Christian activity, thereby
discouraging social mobility for members of Christian communities.
For a New Testament scholar interested in trying to discern ways
in which the ¿rst Jesus-believers negotiated daily imperial life and
practices, I ¿nd Tertullian’s speci¿c discussion and instructions most
intriguing. Given his vociferous opposition, some Christians were cer-
tainly very accommodationist in their societal involvements. How
convincing the socially prominent and elite found Tertullian’s protests,
or how seriously they took his admonishments to voluntary restraint, are
other matters.
Reading Contemporary Pauline Scholarship

While Reading Tertullian
Rhee’s analysis of Tertullian reading Paul concerning wealth draws on
1 Tim 6:102 and various passages from 1 Corinthians to highlight two
contexts in particular: the personal displays of wealth by upper-level
women and involvement with idolatry as it pertains to either earning a
living or displaying one’s elevated societal status. As one who is not a
scholar of Tertullian, I do not claim to know whether Tertullian engages
other dimensions of wealth signi¿cant for this discussion. But it is
1. Most contemporary scholars would not ¿nd Colossians and Ephesians to be

Pauline.
2. Most contemporary scholars would not ¿nd 1 Timothy to be Pauline.
interesting in the context of Rhee reading Tertullian reading Paul to

observe the contours of contemporary readings of Paul and wealth. I will
do so by highlighting brieÀy four areas of contemporary discussion.
Socio-Economic Levels of Pauline Communities

Rhee points out that Tertullian, himself a person of “signi¿cant
resources,” addresses “his treatises to Christians of ‘birth and wealth,’
particularly women…to the Christian ‘women and men of highest rank’
[as well as to] the uneducated and the poor.” What social levels did Paul
address his letters to? What social levels were represented in the Pauline
communities? Rhee offers no comment as to whether Tertullian raises
this question or whether it impacts his pastoral interpretation of Paul, but
it is certainly an issue that contemporary Pauline scholars have vigor-
ously investigated.
For much of the twentieth century and into the twenty-¿rst century,
Pauline scholars have argued that Paul’s communities comprised a
relative cross-section of society. That is, in the hierarchical imperial
world of the ¿rst century in which there were considerable extremes of
wealth and poverty, Pauline communities did not draw members from
the wealthiest or poorest sectors but did draw mostly from the lower
levels, with a few members having more substantial resources. Early in
the twentieth century, Adolf Deissmann argued for such a view, and it
has been repeated regularly since, despite claims of a major shift in
recent scholarship.3 In his major 1983 study, The First Urban Christians,
Wayne Meeks concludes similarly that the wealthiest and the poorest
levels of society were probably missing from these communities, but
present were those who lived at subsistence levels while most members
were probably somewhat more wealthy, such as free artisans and
traders.4 Most signi¿cantly for Meeks, Paul’s communities attracted
people who were upwardly mobile, who had gained some higher status
on one or two counts (perhaps wealth or occupation or age or gender or
public of¿ce) but not consistently in all areas—that is, they experienced
status inconsistency. The Pauline communities provided opportunities
for them to gain more honor.
3. See the discussion of this scholarship in Steven Friesen, “Paul and Economics:
The Jerusalem Collection as An Alternative to Patronage,” in Paul Unbound: Other
Perspectives on the Apostle (ed. Mark Given; Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2010),
27–54 (28–29).
4. Wayne Meeks, The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle
Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983).
Meeks’ analysis has been very inÀuential, though not without its
critics.5 More recently, Steven Friesen has advanced the discussion by
proposing a societal poverty scale comprising seven gradations from
wealthiest to poorest.6 The ¿rst three categories identify wealthy elites,
probably missing from the Jesus communities (imperial, regional, and
municipal; PS 1–3). Level 4 involves a middling group of merchants,
traders, artisans, and military veterans who enjoyed some surplus of
wealth. Levels 5 and 6 comprise those who live near or at subsistence
level and involve most traders and artisans, shop/tavern owners, farm
families, and laborers. Level 7 consists of those who lived below subsis-
tence levels—beggars, unskilled laborers, widows, and orphans. Friesen
attaches percentages to these groups with levels 1–3 including about 3%
of the population, level 4 about 7%, levels 5 and 6 about 62%, and level
7 about 28%. On Friesen’s scale about 90% of the population lives near,
at, or below subsistence level. He identi¿es the Pauline communities as
comprising mostly levels 4–6, with the Corinthians Chloe (1 Cor 1:11)
and Gaius (Rom 16:23) ranking the highest as level 4s. Paul himself
ranks the lowest as a level 6 or 7.7
Such analysis of socio-economic levels is dif¿cult because of limited
information yet very useful as a heuristic tool. Bruce Longenecker also
argues that Paul’s rhetorical constructions may increase or decrease
levels depending on the argument he is making.8 For example, the phrase
“work with your own hands” in 1 Cor 4:11–13 and 1 Thess 4:11–12
suggests he addresses these communities generally in terms of levels 5
and 6 (near and at subsistence). The reference in 1 Cor 4, though, to
5. See the discerning but appreciative review by Bruce Malina in JBL 104
(1985): 346–49, and the chapters in Todd D. Still and David G. Horrell, eds., After
the First Urban Christians: The Social-Scienti¿c Study of Pauline Christianity
Twenty-Five Years Later (London: T&T Clark International, 2009).
6. Steven J. Friesen, “Poverty in Pauline Studies: Beyond the So-called New
Consensus,” JSNT 26 (2004): 323–61. For discussion, see John M. G. Barclay,
“Poverty in Pauline Studies: A Response to Steven Friesen,” JSNT 26 (2004): 363–
66; Peter Oakes, “Constructing Poverty Scales for Graeco-Roman Society: A
Response to Steven Friesen’s ‘Poverty in Pauline Studies,’ ” JSNT 26 (2004): 367–
71; Bruce W. Longenecker, “Exposing the Economic Middle: A Revised Economy
Scale for the Study of Early Urban Christianity,” JSNT 31 (2009): 243–78;
Longenecker, “Socio-Economic Pro¿ling of the First Urban Christians,” in Still and
Horrell, eds., After the First Urban Christians, 36–59; Walter Scheidel and Steven J.
Friesen, “The Size of the Economy and the Distribution of Income in the Roman
Empire,” JRS 99 (2009): 61–91.
7. Friesen, “Jerusalem Collection,” 40. Friesen cites 2 Cor 11:1–22; 1 Thess
2:1–12; Phil 2:25–30; 4:12–13 in support.
8. Longenecker, “Socio-Economic Pro¿ling,” 50–51.
Paul’s group being hungry, thirsty, poorly clothed, beaten, and homeless
might indicate that Paul rhetorically sets himself in level 6, thereby
placing (signi¿cant numbers of?) the Corinthians above him in levels 5
or even 4. The description of the “present abundance” of (some of) the
Corinthians in 2 Cor 8:14 seems to elevate them, while the earlier ref-
erence in 8:1–6 to “a severe ordeal of afÀiction…and their extreme
poverty” seems to decrease the Thessalonians and Philippians into level
7, in contrast to levels 5 and 6 that seemed to be assumed in 1 Thess
4:11–13. In addition, Longenecker has argued that care for the poor
(levels 6–7) was a crucial part of Paul’s gospel and that practices of
providing practical care for the poor were integral to the ethos of the
Pauline communities.9
Helen Rhee’s analysis shows Tertullian interested mostly in the small
percentage of wealthy women (PS 2?–3?–4?) rather than in the vast
majority of poorer people.
Women Co-Workers and Patrons

Rhee’s discussion illustrates Tertullian’s concern with these wealthy
women who use their wealth for self-adornment and for possible societal
activities involving idolatry, thereby crossing the line between Christian
identity and non-Christian society. While these women are a problem to
Tertullian (and to everybody else it seems in his discussion), much
Pauline scholarship has been devoted in recent decades to retrieving and
celebrating the positive involvements of women with Paul and his
mission. It has been noted often, for example, that Paul uses the same
language for women leaders in the communities that he uses of himself.
Thus, he greets Prisca and Aquila as his “co-workers” (Rom 16:3–5),
using a term with which he describes himself and his own ministry
(1 Cor 3:9) as well as other male leaders (Rom 16:9, Urbanus; 16:21,
Timothy; 2 Cor 8:23, Titus). These male and female “co-workers” are
those who, like Paul, proclaim the gospel and provide leadership and care
for the churches. Likewise, he commends the women Mary, Tryphaena,
Tryphosa, and Persis (Rom 16:6, 12) for “ working hard,” a verb he uses
for his own ministry of preaching, teaching, and leadership (1 Cor 15:10;
Gal 4:11; Phil 2:16)
A further contribution in this scholarship has been the recognition that
wealthier women patrons ¿nanced Paul’s work. Phoebe, for example, in
the church in Cenchreae is explicitly identi¿ed as a prostatis or patron
9. Bruce W. Longenecker, Remember the Poor: Paul, Poverty, and the Greco-
Roman World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010).
(Rom 16:1–2).10 R. A. Kearsley establishes that the term is used for high
status, wealthy women who occupy important public of¿ce and use their
wealth and position as patrons or benefactors. Phoebe, then, is “a
benefactor and patron of the Christian believers” and of Paul.11 Elisabeth
Schüssler Fiorenza suggests that wealthy women like Phoebe partici-
pated in the Jesus movement in part to gain prestige or honor from
leadership and inÀuence.12 How wealthy Phoebe might have been is not
clear. Kearsley’s inscriptional material might suggest considerable status
and wealth. Meeks suggests she might have “some wealth,”13 while
Friesen is also less optimistic and locates her in his level 4 (middling
level with moderate surplus) or perhaps, less likely, level 5 (near sub-
sistence level).14 From the Pauline Letters, Lampe also identi¿es Prisca
(with Aquila) as another (somewhat) wealthy woman who functions, at
least in part, as a patron for Paul (Rom 16:4–5).15
In Rhee’s discussion, Tertullian approves of the use of wealth for alms
and disapproves generally of beauti¿ed wealthy women. But he does not
assess the option of wealthy members or women as patrons for “the
Apostle.”
The Collection
Paul’s collection of funds from his Gentile congregations for the poor in
Jerusalem offers further insight into Paul’s economic practices that are
not considered in Rhee’s discussion of Tertullian. While various studies
have sought to locate the collection in terms of patronage practices,16
David Downs17 and Steven Friesen18 have argued that Paul was promoting
10. R. A. Kearsley, “Women in Public Life in the Roman East: Iunia Theodora,
Claudia Metrodora, and Phoebe, Benefactress of Paul,” TynBul 50 (1999): 189–211.
11. Ibid., 202.
12. Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological
Reconstruction of Christian Origins (New York: Crossroad, 1989), 181–82.
13. Meeks, First Urban Christians, 60.
14. Friesen, “Poverty,” 348, and “Jerusalem Collection,” 40, for a list.
15. Peter Lampe, “Paul, Patrons, and Clients,” in Paul in the Greco-Roman
World: A Handbook (ed. J. Paul Sampley; Harrisburg, Penn.: Trinity, 2003), 488–
523 (498–99). Lampe also identi¿es some women from Acts whom the narrative
presents as patrons.
16. Stephen Joubert, Paul as Benefactor: Reciprocity, Strategy, and Theological
ReÀection in Paul’s Collection (WUNT 124; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000); James
Harrison, Paul’s Language of Grace in Its Graeco-Roman Context (WUNT 172;
Tübingen; Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 289–332.
17. David J. Downs, The Offering of the Gentiles: Paul’s Collection for Jerusa-
lem in Its Chronological, Cultural, and Cultic Contexts (WUNT 248; Tübingen:
Mohr Siebeck, 2008).
an alternative economic practice. This collection drew not from a single

wealthy benefactor but from multiple communities, thereby decenter-
ing the power of any one ¿gure. The funding came from people living
around subsistence level who contributed a small amount each week
(1 Cor 16:2), rather than by a large contribution from a wealthy patron
who secured his or her power through this act. And it encouraged
reciprocal economic redistribution, since Paul suggests that the Corin-
thians might in the future need help from the Jerusalemites (2 Cor 8:13–
14). Instead of reÀecting conventional economic patronage that reinforced
inequitable social structures, the collection encouraged the voluntary
sharing of resources among poor people. Friesen comments that Paul’s
“rhetoric suggested multidirectional, occasional, need-based redistribu-
tion, the goal of which was economic equality for everyone involved,
even if that only meant resources suf¿cient for the day at hand.”19
Other scholars, notably Richard Horsley and Sze-kar Wan, have
identi¿ed a further element of the collection by setting this economic
practice in the context of the tributary economic practices of the Roman
empire. Horsley argues that Paul’s assemblies had “an ‘international’
political-economic dimension diametrically opposed to the tributary
political economy of the empire.”20 The latter comprised a “vertical and
centripetal movement of resources” whereby taxes and tribute moved
resources from low-status peasants and traders upward to various levels
of ruling elites and from provincial margins to the powerful center. Sze-
kar Wan calls the collection an “anticolonial act” by which Paul “con-
structed an all-embracing sociopolitical order that stood in contradistinc-
tion to and in criticism of colonial powers.”21 Wan highlights the
universal scope of the collection, whereby Paul insists on a “horizontal
solidarity between Jewish and gentile congregations” in contrast to an
excluding imperial and patronal system that secured an axis of superior
and inferior statuses.22
18. Friesen, “Jerusalem Collection,” 45–52.

19. Ibid., 51.
20. Richard A. Horsley, “1 Corinthians: A Case Study of Paul’s Assembly,” in
Paul and Empire: Religion and Power in Roman Imperial Society (ed. Richard A.
Horsely; Harrisburg, Penn.: Trinity, 1997), 242–52 (251).
21. Sze-kar Wan, “Collection for the Saints as Anticolonial Act: Implications of
Paul’s Ethnic Reconstruction,” in Paul and Politics: Ekklesia, Israel, Imperium,
Interpretation (ed. Richard A. Horsley; Harrisburg, Penn.: Trinity, 2000), 191–215
(192).
22. Ibid., 215.
Lord’s Supper
Paul’s outburst in 1 Cor 11:17–34 concerning the abuses in the celebra-
tion of the Lord’s Supper in Corinth does not ¿gure in Rhee’s discussion
of Tertullian. Yet it also provides insight for a consideration of wealth in
Paul. Paul addresses here a situation involving socio-economic divisions:
“Each of you goes ahead with your own supper and one goes hungry and
another becomes drunk” (11:21). Paul assesses the implication of this
social disparity and inequity of access to food and drink by saying that
wealthier members “show contempt for the church of God and humiliate
those who have nothing” (11:22). The last phrase is signi¿cant. In terms
of Friesen’s scale, Paul’s concern is the treatment of those who belong to
levels PS5–7 by those of higher levels.
Paul’s disapproval is directed at the refusal of those with wealth and
resources to share them with the impoverished. He declares that their
refusal is an act of despising or scorning the community. It is a social
offense against “the body” (11:29). It is particularly an act of dishonor-
ing, humiliating, and shaming the poor. Interestingly, Paul identi¿es with
this latter group and defends them against this indignity, perhaps sug-
gesting Paul’s own lowly status. He withholds any commendation of the
wealthier members for their practice of withholding resources (11:22).
His communities are to embrace a “preferential option for the poor” and
the practice of sharing economic resources.
Conclusion
Reading Tertullian reading Paul has led, with Helen Rhee’s help, to read-
ing Tertullian while also reading contemporary scholarship on Paul and
wealth. From the contemporary discussions I have identi¿ed four promi-
nent areas of discussion: the social levels of members of the Pauline
communities, Paul’s partnership with women leaders and the roles of
several women patrons, the Lord’s Supper observance among the Corin-
thian Jesus-believers, and the collection for Jerusalem. While some
overlap with Tertullian’s concerns is evident, the contemporary discus-
sion is more wide-ranging and generally concerned with historical
reconstruction and analysis than pastoral address.
9
COMMUNIS MAGISTER PAULUS:
ALTERCATION OVER THE GOSPEL
IN TERTULLIAN’S AGAINST MARCION
Stephen Cooper
I’m not scared of you saying, “So you deny Paul was an apostle?” I don’t
defame the one I’m defending: I’m denying him to be an apostle to make
you prove it. (Adv. Marc. 5.1.6)1
Marcion’s church,2 with its alternative Christian gospel thriving “all over
the world” (Adv. Marc. 5.19.2) some half century after the death of its
founder, elicited from Tertullian his lengthiest surviving work, the ¿ve
books of Adversus Marcionem. Its ¿nal two books are devoted to the
analysis of Marcion’s canon with a view to turning the instruments of his
own gospel against him. Tertullian took up this task of opposing Marcion
and his “radicalized Paulinism”3 after the example of Irenaeus (De prae.
haer. 3.12, 12–14), who had made Paul part of a united front with the
rest of the apostles against Marcion, Valentinus, and others who had
elevated him to the status of a privileged or even unique witness to the
gospel. The catholic Paul had to be asserted and de¿ned, rendered
1. Translation mine. For this work, I have primarily used Ernest Evans, ed. and
trans., Tertullian, Adversus Marcionem (2 vols.; Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1972), whose translation I employ—adding italics to identify scriptural quotations—
except when noted. I have also consulted of René Braun’s Sources Chrétiennes edi-
tion (nos. 365, 368, 399, 456, and 483 of the series), Tertullien: Contre Marcion
(Paris: Cerf, 1990). The ¿nal two volumes, comprising books 4 and 5 (published in
2001 and 2004, respectively), are joint products of Braun and Claudio Moreschini,
the latter supplying the critical text and Braun the translation, introduction, and
notes. Where the critical text of this edition differs from that of Evans in the
passages I quote, I generally follow the reading of the Sources Chrétiennes edition
(noted ad loc.).
2. On Marcion generally, see the recent work of Sebastian Moll, The Arch-
Heretic Marcion (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010).
3. Gerhard May, “Marcion ohne Harnack,” in Marcion und seine kirchen-
geschichtliche Wirkung (ed. Gerhard May and Katharina Greschat; Berlin: de
Gruyter, 2002), 1–7 (3).
COOPER Communis Magister Paulus 225
distinct from the one Tertullian called “the heretics’ apostle” (Adv. Marc.
3.5.4). The task of the catholic authors4 who wrote against Marcion thus
included a “recuperation” of Paul, as Ernesto Norelli has noted,5 which
necessarily involved an exegetical component. The present study pro-
poses to examine a central aspect of Tertullian’s project of recuperation
in Against Marcion, namely, his attempt to refute Marcion’s interpreta-
tion of Paul’s distinction between law and gospel through a more histori-
cally responsible exegetical reconstruction of the apostle and his salvi¿c
message. Tertullian and Marcion could agree that the gospel is the power
of God for salvation (Rom 1:16) and that this message is made known
through the church (Eph 2:10). But which church that was, and what the
relation of its proclamation to the God and religion of Judaism was, were
matters of profound disagreement and the chief items in dispute.
Given the length of Adversus Marcionem—approximately that of
Augustine’s De trinitate—what I present here is a small portion of
Tertullian’s analysis and deployment of Paul in this work. My focus will
be largely limited to a central site of the exegetical struggle over the
Corpus Paulinum: Paul’s narrative in the ¿rst two chapters of Galatians
concerning his relations with the Jerusalem apostles, which culminates
in his rebuke of Peter at Antioch. This last incident (Gal 2:11–14) seems
to have been of great signi¿cance in the dispute with the Marcionite
church: Tertullian discusses it three times in Adversus Marcionem,
having previously noted its importance to Marcion in De praescriptione
haereticorum.6 But we must observe beforehand that Tertullian does not
present Adversus Marcionem as a struggle for the Apostle Paul, whose
person and letters are discussed variously within the larger argument. As
Robert Sider has noted in his seminal article, any attempt to evaluate
Tertullian’s relationship to the Apostle Paul must take cognizance of
Tertullian’s “literary arti¿ce.”7 We will accordingly treat Tertullian’s
4. Tertullian had discussed Marcion already in his early work De praescriptione

(ca. 203) before his move toward Montanism. His attack on Marcion is avowedly a
defense of the church of the apostles (which is what I mean by “catholic” authors
church in Tertullian’s time).
5. Enrico Norelli, “La funzione di Paolo nel pensiero di Marcione,” RevistB 34
(1986): 533–97 (597).
6. Tertullian’s various treatments of this passage (in De prae. haer. 23; Adv.
Marc. 1.20; 4.3; 5.3) have been discussed by Gerhard May, “Der Streit zwischen
Petrus und Paulus in Antiochien,” in May, Markion: Gesammelte Aufsätze (ed.
Katharina Greschat and Martin Meiser; Mainz: Philipp von Zabern, 2005), 35–41.
Southern Methodist University Press, 1990), 99–120.
reading of Paul with a view toward comprehending the particulars in

relation to the persuasive ends and means of the whole.
Before turning to Adversus Marcionem, its complex history of compo-
sition, and the place of Paul in its argumentative structure,8 we review
basic data on Marcion, as well as some of the perspectives on Tertullian
as an interpreter of Paul that have been developed in the last century and
a half of scholarship.
Marcion, Tertullian, and Their Paulinisms

Marcion was a wealthy nauclerus or “ship-owner”9 from Pontus on the
Black Sea (Adv. Marc. 1.1.4)10 who had come to Rome and was received
into the church, to which he gave a handsome gift of 200,000 sesterces.
Other biographical data from later sources seem the stuff of standard
anti-heretical fare.11 Before Marcion came to Rome, he may have sought
to ¿nd a home for his gospel elsewhere, even if we do not regard
Irenaeus’s report of Polycarp’s encounter with and rejection of Marcion
as reliable (De prae. haer. 3.3.4). The Roman church appears at ¿rst to
have been unaware of Marcion’s views—or else he had not yet devel-
oped or publicized them; but shortly thereafter, in 144 C.E., Marcion was
ejected from the church and his money returned (De prae. haer. 30.2).12
At some point, Marcion produced a biblical canon, consisting of a trun-
cated and edited version of Luke followed by ten lightly edited Pauline
8. For a good account of the treatise’s argument, see Chapter 5 of Eric Osborn,
Tertullian, First Theologian of the West (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1997).
9. De prae. haer. 30.1; Adv. Marc. 1.18.4; 3.6.3; 4.9.2; 5.1.2. A nauclerus “can
be an owner or a joint owner of a ship, or he may only be someone commissioned by
the owner” (Gerhard May, “Marcion in Contemporary Views,” SecCent 6 [1987–
88]: 129–51, 130 [repr. in May, Markion]). See May’s full discussion in “Der
‘Schiffsreeder’ Markion,” StPatr (1989): 142–54 (repr. in May, Markion).
10. Tertullian, unlike other ancient informants, does not mention Sinope as
Marcion’s hometown, but his reference to Diogenes of Sinope (Adv. Marc. 1.1.5)
may signal an awareness of the fact.
11. See May, “Marcion in Contemporary Views,” 134–37. The account in Hippo-
lytus’ Syntagma (reported in Ps.-Tertullian, Adv. omn. haer. 6.2, and Epiphanius,
Pan. 42.1.3–6) that Marcion’s father was a bishop who sent his son packing after he
seduced one of the church’s virgins is regarded as ¿ction by most scholars, including
Harnack, who accepted that his father was indeed a bishop (Marcion: The Gospel of
an Alien God [1924; 2d Germ. ed.; repr., Eugene, Ore.: Wipf & Stock, 2007], 16).
12. For a discussion of the probably unreliable claim by Epiphanius of a decisive
showdown between Marcion and the Roman clergy, see Gerhard May, “Markions
Bruch mit der römischen Gemeinde,” in May, Markion, 75–83.
Epistles. His gospel and its alternative church caught on quickly: in the
mid-150s Justin refers to Marcion as active and having converted people
“of every nation” (1 Apol. 26), identifying his main point as the claim
that Christ had revealed a hitherto unknown god (1 Apol. 58).13 This
“other god” was far removed from the Creator of the heavens and earth.
“Between these [gods] he sets up a great and absolute opposition,”
explains Tertullian, “such as that between justice and kindness, between
law and gospel, between Judaism and Christianity” (Adv. Marc. 4.6.3).
For Marcion, law and gospel were antithetical principles of the religions
serving these disparate deities. A signi¿cant aspect of Tertullian’s refuta-
tion, we will see, involved an alternative interpretation of what likewise
appeared to him as an undeniable opposition between Judaism and
Christianity.
Betimes the victor appears the vanquished, and the fallen the one on
top. In at least one respect Marcion would seem to have gotten the better
of Tertullian, if only for a season of scholarly understanding. For it was
Marcion’s understanding of Paul’s distinction between law and gospel14
that brought Harnack to utter his celebrated epigram: “Marcion was the
only Gentile Christian who understood Paul, and even he misunderstood
him.”15 Tertullian’s presentation of Paul, geared to combat Marcion and
his more muscular apostle, fell under suspicion. What kind of Paulinism
could we expect to ¿nd in Tertullian, the archetypal representative of the
theological tradition that identi¿ed the gospel as a kind of law?16 Franz
Overbeck,17 in his 1877 study of the incident at Antioch of Gal 2:11–21,
13. See Chapter 3 of Moll’s Arch-Heretic Marcion for discussion of “Marcion’s

Gods.”
14. Harnack, Marcion, 21, 134 (2d Ger. ed. [1924], 30, 218).
15. Adolf von Harnack, History of Dogma (trans. Neil Buchanan; 7 vols.;
London: Williams & Norgate, 1894–99), 1:89.
16. R. P. C. Hanson (“Notes on Tertullian’s Interpretation of Scripture,” JTS 12
[1961]: 273–79) concludes: “Having virtually removed the burden of a legalistic
Old Testament religion [sic], he introduced a legalistic New Testament one… The
tendency to turn Christianity into a baptized Judaism…¿nds its earliest exponent
in Tertullian” (279). A similar reading of Tertullian (without the anti-Jewish Àavor)
is found in H. J. Schoeps, Paul: The Theology of the Apostle in Light of Jewish
Religious History (trans. Harold Knight; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1961), 267:
“Tertullian is moving on the same ground as was covered by Barnabas, Hermas, and
Justin when he de¿nes the gospel as the nova lex, as a con¿rmed legalism of attitude
by which man acquires merit, which Irenaeus had explained on even more radical
lines.”
17. Franz Overbeck, Über die Auffassung des Streits des Paulus mit Petrus in
Antochien (Gal. 2, 11 ff.) bei den Kirchenvätern (1877; repr., Darmstadt: Wissen-
schaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1968), 10.
had claimed that Tertullian in his zeal to preserve Peter against the
accusation of betraying the gospel truth basically “surrenders”
(preisgiebt) Paul to Marcion. Likewise, Fritz Barth maintained in his
1882 article on “Tertullian’s Conception of the Apostle Paul and his
Relationship to the Original Apostles” that the Carthaginian’s attempt to
put Paul on the same level as the other apostles amounted to a “degrad-
ing” of his status. Eva Aleith’s 1937 study of the reception of Paul in the
¿rst two centuries after his death came to a similar conclusion: Paul’s
reputation as the “apostle of the heretics” (Adv. Marc. 3.5.4) could
explain “a certain coolness in [Tertullian’s] handling of him.”18 This
picture of Tertullian’s relationship to Paul articulated well with the old
thesis that the favor Paul found among heterodox interpreters of the
second century was linked to a putative neglect of his Epistles and theol-
ogy among the authors of the emerging catholic tradition. Harnack’s
conclusion that Marcion was engaged in an “attempt to resuscitate
Paulinism”19 clearly presupposed such a picture.
More recent research20 has decisively rejected this aspect of Harnack’s
reconstruction of the place of Paul in the second-century church for the
most part.21 “There is certainly no basis for the notion,” Andreas Linde-
mann has concluded, “that Paul was forgotten or unimportant in the
(wing of the) church in which ‘Clement,’ Ignatius, and Polycarp did
their work.”22 Marcion must be understood against a background where
Paul was already widely known and discussed among Christians as an
authority, even if his letters were not yet part of a closed New Testament
canon.23 Ulrich Schmid has argued not implausibly that the rapid spread
18. Eva Aleith, Paulusverständnis in der alten Kirche (Berlin: Töpelmann,

1937), 52.
19. Harnack, History of Doctrine, 1:284.
20. Andreas Lindemann, Paulus im ältesten Christentum: Das Bild des Apostels
und die Rezeption der paulinischen Theologie in der frühchristlichen Literatur bis
Marcion (BHT 58; Tübingen: Mohr, 1979), 1–6. At the same time appeared the
work of Ernst Dassmann, Der Stachel im Fleisch: Paulus in der frühchristlichen
Literatur bis Irenäus (Münster: Aschendorff, 1979).
21. An exception is Calvin Roetzel, “Paul in the Second Century,” in The
Cambridge Companion to St. Paul (ed. James D. G. Dunn; Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2003), 227–41: “Marcion and Valentinus appear in mid century to
rescue Paul from obscurity” (228). For a more balanced view, see Richard I. Pervo,
The Making of Paul: Constructions of the Apostle in Early Christianity (Minnea-
polis: Fortress, 2010), 4–7, 198, 229–39.
22. William S. Babcock, “Paul in the Writings of the Apostolic Fathers,” in
Babcock, ed, Paul and the Legacies of Paul, 25–45.
23. For a good exposition of this perspective, see Lindemann, Paulus im ältesten
Christentum, 381.
of Marcion’s church is evidence of a context in which the pre-Marcionite

version of Paul’s Epistles had circulated widely and had given rise to “an
extreme Pauline movement within many congregations.” Marcion was
the most able representative of a wider phenomenon:24 the Pauline gospel
as the cutting edge of an ever more Gentile Christianity.
Date, Structure, and Opening of Adversus Marcionem

The openings of the ¿rst three books of Adversus Marcionem relate the
complex history of this work, Tertullian’s lengthiest composition.25 Its
¿nal form emerged after multiple stages of composition over a period of
something shy of a decade.26 Against Marcion ¿rst appeared—probably
shortly after De praescriptione haereticorum in 200–202—as a single
book focused on Marcion’s novel divinity, the previously unknown
father of Christ. Tertullian acknowledges having composed this primum
opusculum hastily and later revised and expanded the work to discuss
Marcion’s Christ, probably in another volume (Adv. Marc. 1.1.1). The
resulting second version was pilfered by a “former brother, later turned
apostate,” who distributed faulty extracts of it (Adv. Marc. 1.1.1). This
prompted Tertullian to a third phase of rewriting, datable to the ¿fteenth
year of Septimius Severus’ reign (207–208), according to Tertullian’s
chronological indication (Adv. Marc. 1.15.1). This effort produced the
¿rst three books we now have: a ¿rst book refuting Marcion’s novel
divinity; a second in defense of the Creator; and a third focused on
Christ. These books reÀect in several passages Tertullian’s move toward
Montanism (Adv. Marc. 1.21.5; 1.29.4; 2.24.4).27 Thereafter, books 4
and 5 were written, in 209 and shortly before the spring of 212. These
last two books contain increasing indications of Montanism28 and are
24. Ulrich Schmid, Marcion und sein Apostolos (ANTF 25; Berlin: de Gruyter,
1995), 307–8.
25. Timothy D. Barnes (Tertullian: A Historical and Literary Study [2d ed.;
Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985], 326–28) retracted his initial claim that all
¿ve books were closely produced together at the time indicated in Adv. Marc. 1.15.1
(the ¿fteenth year of Severus’ reign, i.e., 207–208) and has endorsed a similar
reconstruction of the composition of the work I described here.
26. The following draws freely on the excellent introduction of René Braun in
Contre Marcionem, 1:11–19.
27. Thus, ibid., 1:17 n. 1.
28. Note the characterization in Adv. Marc. 4.22.5 of non-Montanist catholics
as psychici (cf. 1 Cor 2:14). Braun observes that the traces of Tertullian’s adoption
of Montanist views are even more evident in book 5 (ibid., 5:15 n. 4). Braun also
notes that Tertullian added a couple of Montanist-sounding arguments on prophecy
devoted to the refutation of Marcion’s scriptural canon, respectively, his

Euangelion and Apostolikon.
The ¿rst three books of Adversus Marcionem engage the Antitheses
and refer only generally to Marcion’s canon, although Tertullian holds
out the promise of an eventual exegetical treatment (1.15.1; 1.16.2). His
quotation of Rom 11:33 in 2.2.4 reveals he was unaware that Marcion
had suppressed the term “judgments”—something he did know when
he quoted that same verse later in 5.14.9. As Braun has surmised,29
Marcion’s “New Testament” came under Tertullian’s eyes only after the
¿rst three books had attained their ¿nal version. It was only then that he
was able to carry out his exegetical program (Adv. Marc. 4.1.2; 5.2.9)
and implement the strategy suggested by Irenaeus of refuting Marcion on
the evidence of his own canon.30 In the face of Marcion’s novel doctrine
of God, Tertullian readily employed arguments from common ideas
of philosophical monism, much as he did against Hermogenes.31 But
because Marcion had linked his theology of two gods32 to an exegetically
supported distinction between law and gospel, the Carthaginian polemi-
cist had to “let down his defense based on prescriptions” (Adv. Marc.
1.22.1)33 and engage in close discussion of their shared scriptures.
Evans has reasonably suggested that the ¿ve books of Adversus
Marcionem were “envisaged as a case argued in court against Marcion as
defendant…as it were three speeches in presentation of his case,
followed by two more in assessment and examination of his opponent’s
evidence.”34 Such a prosecutorial stance, exhibited in numerous passages,
does not obscure the indications—frequent use of the terms defendere
and defensio throughout the ¿ve books35—of an apologetic strand to the
(Adv. Marc. 1.21.5) and the impermissibility of second marriages (Adv. Marc. 1.29.4)
to his ¿rst book when he produced its ¿nal version in 207 or 208 (ibid., 1:17).
29. Ibid., 1:40.
30. Gerhard May, “Marcion in Contemporary Views,” SecCent 6 (1987–88):
129–51 (repr. in May, Markion). Irenaeus articulated this strategy in Adv. haer.
1.27.3 and 3.12.12 (ANF 1:352, 434).
31. See Claudio Moreschini, “Polemica antimarcionita e speculazione teologica
in Tertulliano,” in Marcion und seine kirchengeschichtliche Wirkung, 11–27.
32. See Chapter 3 of Moll, Arch-Heretic Marcion for discussion of “Marcion’s
Gods.”
33. Relaxata praescriptionum defensione (my trans.). For the plural use of the
praescriptio in Tertullian (as also in Adv. Marc. 3.1.2), see S. L. Greenslade, Early
Latin Theology (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1966), 99–100.
34. Evans, Adversus Marcionem, 1:xvii.
35. I have noted the following materially relevant uses of these terms in the
following passages of Adv. Marc.: 1.6.1; 1.7.3; 1.25.8; 2.1.1; 2.5.3; 2.6.1; 2.18.1;
2.29.1; 3.16.7; 4.29.8; 4.43.3; 5.1.6; 5.9.7.
work: a defense of the Creator against Marcion’s slanders and of the

church and its tradition against his charges of having falsi¿ed the gospel.
In this light it appears to be modeled as an altercatio,36 a forensic debate
in which Tertullian needs among other things to exonerate Paul from the
charge of having introduced a gospel that repudiated Judaism so
vigorously that the Creator God went out the window too. This is to say
that Tertullian, in attacking Marcion’s “Pauline” theology, had to defend
Paul against the charge of really being the apostle whom the heretics had
depicted so compellingly; and for this he needed to elaborate an under-
standing of Paul’s gospel that contained elements of both continuity and
discontinuity with Judaism.
Tertullian followed Justin’s lead in making Marcion’s chief theologi-
cal claim—the doctrine of two gods—the ¿rst target of his polemic. This
focus is complemented by a variety of rhetorical means to discredit the
doctrine through an uncomplimentary depiction of the heretic’s person.37
The exordium prepares the ground for a negative view of the heresiarch
by con¿guring him as something monstrous and strange through an
ekphrasis painting his native land of Pontus in frightening and repulsive
colors (Adv. Marc. 1.1.3). This vituperatio, “written in brilliant prose,”38
casts uncomplimentary light on Marcion by association with negative
stereotypes about his birthplace.39 Tertullian’s fantastic description of
Pontus maligns everything about the place: the climate; the uncivilized
life of its inhabitants—sedes incerta, vita cruda, libido promiscua, et
plurimum nuda, etiam cum abscondunt40—including their necrophagy
and lack of feminine modesty. A climax of expression is reached with
the declaration that “there is nothing so culturally debased and depress-
ing (tam barbarum ac triste) in Pontus as the fact that Marcion was born
there.” He is more destructive than a wild beast: “What beaver is so great
36. Quintilian, Inst. 6.4.1. Quintilian goes on to specify that altercatio consists of
charge and defense (ex intentione ac depulsione).
37. For analysis of the exordium and narratio, see Robert D. Sider, Ancient
Rhetoric and the Art of Tertullian (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971), 29.
38. Thus Braun, Contre Marcion, 1:70. Quintilian clari¿es that vituperatio is not
limited to the “demonstrative” or “epideictic” rhetorical genus (Inst. 3.4.12–15),
which ¿ts well with our view that Adv. Marc. is a piece of forensic rhetoric.
39. Sider, Ancient Rhetoric, 30. Sider employs the term ekphrasis according to
this notion in ancient rhetoric, where there is a broader concept than its current use
in literary study to mean a vivid description of a work of art. See Ruth Webb,
Ekphrasis, Imagination and Persuasion in Ancient Rhetorical Theory and Practice
(Farnham: Ashgate, 2009).
40. I translate: “They have no steady home, their life is rough, and their sex
promiscuous, hardly covered up even when they do it privately.”
a chopper of the Àesh as the man who has done away with marriage
(Quis enim tam castrator carnis castor)? What mouse41 is such as nibbler
as the Pontic one who gnawed up the gospels?” (Adv. Marc. 1.1.4–5, my
translation).
Tertullian’s implication that the mouse had something in front of him
to gnaw articulates well with his central and recurrent argument against
Marcion based on the anteriority of the catholic gospel message—as well
as the catholic gospel texts—to that of the heretic.42 If Marcion once
adhered to the catholic church—as the evidence of a letter43 ascribed to
him allows Tertullian to state as a fact his followers cannot deny
(1.1.6)—then his doctrine of two gods is clearly a later and deviant
development, which is precisely the mark of heresy.
But how did Marcion make this step into error? In line with rhetorical
theory,44 Tertullian’s narratio (Adv. Marc. 1.2) presents data relevant to
the case, including biographical:
The unhappy man became afÀicted with the idea of this wild guess in
consequence of the plain statement which our Lord made, which applies
to men, not to gods, the example of the good tree and the bad, that neither
does the good tree bring forth bad fruit nor the bad tree good fruit (Luke
6:43)—that is, that a good mind or a good faith does not produce evil
actions, nor an evil mind and faith good ones. For, like many even in our
day, heretics in particular, Marcion had an unhealthy interest in the
problem of evil—the origin of it—and his perceptions were numbed by
the very excess of his curiosity. So when he found the Creator declaring,
It is I who create evil things (Isa 45:7) in that he had, from other argu-
ments which make that impression on the perverse, already assumed him
to be the author of evil, he interpreted with reference to the Creator the
evil tree that creates evil fruit—namely, evil things in general—and
assumed that there had to be another god to correspond with the good tree
41. Braun (Adv. Marc. 1:104 n. 1) relates a widespread view based on Aristotle,
Hist. An. 8.7.2 and Pliny, H.N. 8.55.37 that mus here means an ermine or stoat
(which is lexically possible). The force of Tertullian’s use of it seems to demand a
mouse as a more likely candidate to gnaw a manuscript or codex than a stoat.
42. Thus Lindemann, Paulus im ältesten Christentum, 381: “Marcion’s text-
critical work, particularly on the Pauline letters, is most comprehensible if one
assumes that these letters already in a certain respect [emphasis mine] held ‘canoni-
cal’ validity.”
43. Tertullian is the only witness to refer to this letter, which he mentions once
more in Adv. Marc. 4.4.3–4 and again in De carn. Chris. 2.4 (for discussion of the
letter, see Moll, Arch-Heretic Marcion, 115–18).
44. Cicero, Inv. 1.20–21, 28–29. Quintilian quotes Apollodorus’ de¿nition of the
narratio: “a speech informing the listener what the controverted issue is” (oratio
docens auditorem, quid in controversia sit [Inst. 4.2.1]).
which brings forth good fruits. Discovering then in Christ as it were a

different dispensation of sole and unadulterated benevolence, an opposite
character to the Creator’s, he found it easy to argue for a new and hitherto
unknown divinity revealed in its own Christ, and thus with a little leaven
has ensnared the whole mass of the faith with heretical acidity. (Adv.
Marc. 1.2.2–3)
This “little leaven” and “whole mass” alludes to Gal 5:9 (cf. 1 Cor 5:6)
and is the only trace of Paul in Tertullian’s initial account of the heresy’s
origin. The depiction of Marcion’s discovery as “leaven” may be a thrust
at Marcion’s interpretation of the leaven of the Pharisees (Luke 12:1) as
“the preaching of the Creator” (Adv. Marc. 4.28.1). The real leaven is
Marcion’s corrosive doctrine of a new god, a view achieved through
tearing down the god “whom he could not but confess to exist” by
making him responsible for evil (Adv. Marc. 1.2.3). Tertullian’s tracing
of Marcion’s heresy back to a relentless curiositas concerning theodicy
resembles his genealogy of heresy too nearly to be regarded as
historically reliable.45
Paul in the Argument

Paul in Book 1
The apostle comes into extended discussion in the ¿rst book following a
passage where Tertullian de¿nes the lines of combat. Pausing after an
imagined interjection from the Marcionite side (1.19.1), he sets out their
main claim: the “separation of law and gospel is the primary and princi-
pal exploit (proprium et principale opus) of Marcion.” The Antitheses
and its contrariae oppositiones work to make this case, arguing for a
“diversity of gods” based on the “diversity of principles between these
two documents” (Adv. Marc. 1.19.4). Tertullian asserts that this separa-
tion, which he takes to be at the root of Marcion’s novel theology,
followed upon a previous “peace between gospel and law” (Adv. Marc.
1.19.5). This assertion “calls for justi¿cation on our part” (defensio
quoque a nobis necessaria) in light of the claims of the opposition (Adv.
Marc. 1.20.1). One area in particular need of such a defensio is apparent
from Tertullian’s segue to the question of Paul’s rebuke of Peter at
45. See De prae. haer. 7.7, which inveighs against the heretics who, ignoring the
apostle’s warning against philosophy and empty deceit (Col 2:8, RSV), pursue “a
Stoic, a Platonist, or a dialectical Christianity,” getting caught up in myths and
endless genealogies (1 Tim 1:4). “We have no need of curiosity after Jesus Christ
nor of research subsequent to the gospel” (De prae. haer. 7.12). Chapter 30 of this
work mentions curiositas in regard to both Valentinus and Marcion.
Antioch (Gal 2:11–21). He introduces the discussion of the passage by

referring to the claim of Marcionites that Marcion did not so much
“invent a basic principle (regulam) by a separation of the law and the
gospel as he did re-establish one previously adulterated” (Adv. Marc.
1.20.1). That this adulteration theory of the gospel was adduced as both
motive and justi¿cation of Marcion’s text-critical work—literally a
separation of law and gospel through the production of a Gesetztfrei
gospel and apostle—would seem to support Tertullian’s identi¿cation of
that separation as the heretic’s proprium et principale opus.
Tertullian’s ¿rst discussion of Galatians in Adversus Marcionem is his
briefest attempt in the work to mitigate the conÀict between Paul and the
other apostles:46
They (sc. Marcionites) object that Peter and these others, pillars of the
apostleship, were reproved by Paul for not walking uprightly according to
the truth of the gospel (Gal 2:9)—by that Paul, you understand, who, yet
inexperienced in grace (adhuc in gratia rudis), and anxious lest he had
run or was running in vain (Gal 2:2), was then for the ¿rst time confer-
ring with those who were apostles before him. (Adv. Marc. 1.20.2)
This brief presentation of the matters obscures the chronology of Paul’s

narrative in Galatians, which depicts the conÀict in Antioch having come
some indeterminate time after this meeting in Jerusalem in which Paul
was “conferring” (conferebat) with the apostles to alleviate his anxiety
about his grasp of the gospel. Tertullian takes Paul’s rebuke of Peter in
Antioch to be still determined by the supposedly neophyte status of the
former. “Still ¿red up as a newborn Christian (ut neophytes) against
Judaism,” Tertullian writes, Paul reckoned that the slightest slip in
conduct (in conversatione) could not be overlooked, although afterwards
he too would in practice become all things to all people (1 Cor 9:20).
There is no ground, then, for Marcion’s allegation that Paul’s rebuke of
Peter and the others had to do “with any slippage in their preaching about
God” (Adv. Marc. 1.20.3, my translation).
Tertullian’s inclination to press Paul into a united front with the
Jerusalem apostles is patent and earned him much criticism from nine-
teenth- and early twentieth-century scholars.47 More recently his exegesis
46. For a full discussion of early and medieval Christian attempts at such an
exegetical whitewashing, see René Kieffer, Foi et justi¿cation à Antioch: Interpréta-
tion d’un conÀit (Paris: Cerf, 1982), 82–103.
47. Overbeck, “Über die Auffassung,” 10–13; F. Barth, “Tertullians Auffassung
des Apostels Paulus und seines Verhältnisses zu den Uraposteln,” Jahrbuch für
Protestant Theologie 8 (1882): 706–56 (752); Aleith, Paulusverständnis, 53.
has been labeled a “noble ¿ction” of the apologist.48 Yet Tertullian is

actually in agreement with modern scholarship in seeing that the points
of conÀict Paul had with the Galatian Christians were within a sphere of
larger agreement despite the debate about the observance of the law:
The whole essence of the discussion was that while the same God, the
God of the law, was being preached in Christ, His law was under criti-
cism: and consequently, while faith in the Creator and his Christ stood
forever ¿rm, conduct and discipline were in doubt (stabat igitur ¿des
semper in creatore et Christo eius, sed conversatio et disciplina nutabat).
For there were some who disputed about eating things offered to idols,
others about the veiling of women, others about marriage and divorce,
and a few even about the hope of the resurrection: about God, not a one.
(Adv. Marc. 1.21.2–3; Evans’s translation, slightly altered)
Had the apostle preached a new god, Tertullian presses, there would have
been no need for any discussion concerning whether the old law was
still valid or to what degree; it would have been abolished without any
contention (1.21.1–2). From textual evidence he reconstructs a more
probable context to account for the data in the letter. Marcion had pro-
ceeded similarly but arrived at a different reconstruction: the problematic
conversatio of Peter and the other apostles was a sign of their faulty
understanding of the gospel; their corrupt praedicatio was the cause of
their conduct. Tertullian’s counter-proposal, on the other hand, supposes
a more signi¿cant distinction between matters of conversatio et disci-
plina and the gospel message as ¿des…in creatore et Christo eius, as
“faith in the Creator and his Christ.” Thus, he conceived the gospel as
the central element of the Christian message, being both the basis for
concord among believers as well as the norm in light of which any
disagreements concerning conduct were to be adjudicated.
Paul in Book 4
The discussion of Paul’s rebuke of Peter recurs in book 4, which
commences an extended introduction to problems relating to Marcion’s
canon prior to Tertullian’s exegetical survey of it. Book 4 opens on an
inquisitorial note, with an abrupt summons of Marcion’s gospel text as
evidence against him: “Every sentence, indeed the whole structure, I now
challenge (provocamus)49 in terms of that gospel which he has by
48. Roetzel, “Paul in the Second Century,” 237.

49. This language may allude to the Roman legal provision of the provocatio, in
which a defendant could appeal a magistrate’s decision to the vox populi. For
discussion, see R. Develin, “Provocatio and Plebiscites. Early Roman Legislation
and the Historical Tradition,” Mnemosyne 31 (1978): 45–60.
manipulation made his own” (Adv. Marc. 4.1.1). To make this gospel
seem plausible—Tertullian avers—Marcion pre¿xed to it his Antitheses
as “a sort of dowry” (dotem quondam), he mocks. Tertullian declines to
enter into a point-by-point refutation of the Antitheses or to invoke his
praescriptio ruling out scriptural discussion with heretics (quamquam
tam facile est praescriptive occurrere). The Antitheses are much more
conveniently refuted by the evidence in Marcion’s own gospel (exam-
ined at length in book 4), which material Tertullian will convert into his
own “antitheses” against Marcion.
Tertullian then moves to establish the nodal point of the conÀict by
granting a key feature of his opponent’s case: that the coming of the
Christ meant a break between the soteriological principle of law—which
he conceived as the basis of Judaism—and that of the gospel or
Christianity. This concession—or shared conviction—allows Tertullian
to de¿ne the main issue of the debate favorably to his case. His strategy
can be expressed in terms he himself would have recognized, those of the
rhetorical theory of “issues” or staseis (constitutiones or status in
Latin).50 In line with this body of theory, Tertullian seems to have framed
the issue of the debate with Marcion as the constitutio generalis, the
“qualitative”51 stasis. Unable to contest the factum Marcion identi¿ed—
an undeniable distinction between law and gospel—the debate could not
be a matter of the ¿rst stasis or “conjectural” issue (whether such a fact
exists) but had to be quale sit. Granted that the phenomenon is real, what
kind of thing is it?
So then I do admit that there was a different course followed in the old
dispensation under the Creator, from that in the new dispensation under
Christ. I do not deny a difference in records of things spoken, in precepts
for good behavior, and in rules of law, provided that all these differences
(tota diversitas) have reference to one and the same God, that God by
whom it is acknowledged that they were ordained and also foretold. (Adv.
Marc. 4.1.3)
50. This was invented by Hermagoras of Temnos (mid-second century B.C.E.),

imported into Latin rhetoric by Cicero’s De inventione, and developed by Hermogenes
of Tarsus. See Ray Nadeau, “Hermogenes On Stases: A Translation with an
Introduction and Notes,” Speech Monographs 32 (1964): 361–424. Hermogenes of
Tarsus was a Greek rhetor born ca. 160 who achieved fame in his youth. Marcus
Aurelius was among his admirers (so ibid., 363).
51. Reading book 1 of Adversus Marcionem in line with stasis theory was sug-
gested by Sider, Ancient Rhetoric, 49. For the technical terms I employ the English
translation of Cicero’s De inventione (here, 1.8.10–11) by H. M. Hubbell (LCL). For
a recent discussion of stasis theory, see Malcolm Heath, “The Substructure of Stasis-
Theory from Hermagoras to Hermogenes,” CQ 44 (1994): 114–29.
Marcion was right to identify Christianity as a different system from that

of the law (alium ordinem decucurrisse in veteri dispositione apud
creatorem), but he wrongly interpreted the signi¿cance of that fact. God,
Tertullian argues, even foretold that there would be this shift in dispo-
sitio, which we might translate here as “valid religious system” (instead
of Evans’s “dispensation”).
This central perspective is what the lengthy opening chapter of book 4
labors to establish against Marcion. Tertullian cites at length verses from
the prophets pointing to the coming of a new religious dispensation.
Concerning Isaiah’s saying (2:3) about a law to go forth from Zion and
the word of the Lord from Jerusalem, he comments: “certainly, a differ-
ent law and a different word.” Then that God, the prophet continues, will
judge amidst the Gentiles and will convict a great people—“obviously
not the people of that one nation of Jews,” Tertullian interprets, “but a
great people of the Gentiles who are judged and convicted among
themselves52 about their primal error through the new law of the gospel
and the new word of the apostles” (4.1.4, my translation). More verses
from Isaiah in support of the same idea follow, along with citations of
Jeremiah (4:3; 31:3) and Malachi (1:1). He elucidates Isa 10:23—God
will make a short word on the earth—with a paraphrase indicating the
matter is clearly one of a change in religious systems: “The New Testa-
ment has been abridged (compendiatum) and disentangled from the
overloaded burdens of the law” (Adv. Marc. 4.1.6, my trans.).
Thus, catholics agree with Marcion that law as the basis of a religious
system has been superseded and that salvation is through the gospel of
Christ held by the church (whether catholic or Marcionite). What Tertul-
lian wants the Marcionites of his day—or the catholics who may have
been targeted by Marcion’s church as potential converts53—to admit is
that these facts do not demand the postulate of different gods with
disparate systems of salvation:
The one who ordained the change also established the difference: the one
who foretold of the renewal also told beforehand of the contrariety. Why
need you explain a difference of facts as an opposition of authorities?
Why need you distort against the Creator those antitheses in the evi-
dences…? (Adv. Marc. 4.1.9–10, slightly altered)
52. This formulation seems to be inÀuenced by Rom 2:14–15.

53. See Tertullian’s telling remark in De prae. haer. 41.1 about the targets of the
heretics’ preaching (he names Valentinus and Marcion in ch. 39 of the same work):
hoc sit negotium illis, non ethnicos conuertendi sed nostros euertendi. Greenslade
(Early Latin Theology, 62) translates thus: “Their concern is not to convert the
heathen, but to subvert our folk.”
The “difference in facts” (differentia rerum) and “antitheses in the

evidences” point to the scriptural data Marcion’s Antitheses highlighted
to support the conclusion of two different gods as the ground for the
differences between law and gospel. Harnack was right to insist on
Marcion being a biblical theologian in this sense: he took the books of
the Hebrew Bible at face value as “true information” about the God of
the Jews and the law they were given as the means of their relation
to that deity.54 Noteworthy is the concurrence of Tertullian and his
Marcionite opponents that Judaism is the negated other whose negation
their accounts of their own religions presuppose. The same insistence on
the de¿nitive break with Judaism recurs later in book 4, where Tertullian
clearly marks out the supersession of Judaism by Christianity through the
ministry of John the Baptist (4.33.8).
The second section (ch. 2) of the opening to book 4 contains Tertul-
lian’s transition to the argument based on Luke’s Gospel, which Marcion
had edited and “published” without attribution. The Carthaginian sets out
his own presupposition about the Gospels and their claims to authority:
“I lay it down to begin with that the documents of the Gospels have
the apostles for their authors, and that this task of promulgating the
gospel was imposed on them by our Lord himself.” He grants that two of
the Gospels, Mark and Luke, have the names not of apostles but of
“apostolic men” (apostolicos) who authored their works not by them-
selves or on their own authority but in close association with the apos-
tles, even if after them (sed cum apostolis et post apostolos) (Adv. Marc.
4.2.1).55 “The authority of their teachers” (auctoritas magistrorum) and
even of Christ, who “made the apostles teachers,” is thus behind the
“apostolic men” and the Gospels they composed. Marcion, Tertullian
states, chose Luke’s Gospel to alter; but this raises a question of Luke’s
authority:
Now Luke was not an apostle but an apostolic man, not a master but a
disciple, in any case less than his master, and assuredly even more of
lesser account as being the follower of a later apostle, Paul, to be sure: so
that even if Marcion had introduced his gospel under the name of Paul,
that one single document would not be adequate for our faith, if destitute
of the support of his predecessors. (Adv. Marc. 4.2.4)
54. Harnack, Marcion, 65 (2d Ger. ed., 93).

55. I agree with Braun in rendering this last phrase “mais avec les apôtres et
après les apôtres” (Contre Marcion, 4:69), as opposed to Evans’s “as companions of
apostles or followers of apostles”, since post apostolos would be a way of indicating
that—in Tertullian’s view—Mark and Luke were written after Matthew and John.
This is direct counterpoint to Marcion’s overvaluation of Paul as a

solitary witness, but in my view implies no diminution of Paul on
Tertullian’s part. It simply presses the attack at a potentially weak point:
that Marcion stands accused of innovation if the genealogy of his gospel
does not hold up. If Luke is dependent on Paul, as Tertullian thinks and
assumes Marcion did also, then a question arises about “that gospel
which Paul found, that to which he [Paul] gave his assent, that with
which shortly afterwards he was anxious that his own should agree”
(Adv. Marc. 4.2.5). Referring here to Gal 2:2 (which recounts Paul’s
journey to Jerusalem to con¿rm with the pillars there that he was not
running or had run in vain), Tertullian paraphrases the story of the
Jerusalem visit in Gal 2:2–9 to highlight Paul’s own desire to con¿rm his
gospel with a prior authority. The way Tertullian writes of a gospel Paul
“found” (invenit) suggests he thought Paul possessed a written gospel
which the Jerusalem apostles later compared with their own and declared
authentic (integrum evangelium, Adv. Marc. 4.3.4).
The question of the authority behind Marcion’s gospel brings Tertul-
lian to disclose the particular signi¿cance of Galatians to the heresiarch:
“Marcion got a hold of (nactus) Paul’s letter to the Galatians, where he
castigates even the apostles themselves because they were not walking
uprightly according to the truth of the gospel [Gal 2:14], while he also
accuses certain false apostles who were perverting the gospel of Christ
[Gal 1:7]” (Adv. Marc. 4.3.2, my translation). Paul’s narrative in Gala-
tians—regarded by modern New Testament scholars56 as working to
claim the support of the Jerusalem apostles for his gospel—was inter-
preted by Marcion as indicating the incompatibility of Paul’s gospel with
that of Jerusalem. Tertullian’s counter-exegesis grants the fact of the
rebuke but shades it more acceptably as reÀecting an early phrase of
Paul’s missionary work:
Even if Peter was rebuked (Gal 2:11), and John and James, who were
considered to be pillars (Gal 2:9), the reason is obvious: they seemed to
change eating habits of our consideration for certain individuals. And
since Paul himself would become all things to all people (1 Cor 9:22) to
gain them all (1 Cor 9:19), this could have been Peter’s intention in his
acting otherwise than he was teaching. (Adv. Marc. 4.3.3, my translation)
Tertullian concludes: “So it was not about the preaching but their
practice (non de praedicatione sed de conversatione) that they were
called out (denotabantur) by Paul” (Adv. Marc. 4.3.4, my translation).
56. E.g., J. Louis Martyn, Galatians (AB 33A; New York: Doubleday, 1997),
154.
Apostolic concordia was important to Tertullian,57 but even within this

framework he allows the possibility of tension between the apostles
despite broader areas of agreement, much as he assumed was the case
concerning the disciplinary and moral problems of the church he debated
in his own day.58 As was the case for so much of the early Christian
reception of Paul, Tertullian’s notion of apostolic concordia was heavily
inÀuenced by Acts and its presentation of Christianity as moving
progressively away from Jewish observance and from Jews as targets of
its mission. Particularly important for Tertullian, as for the later Latin
exegetical tradition,59 was Acts’ depiction of the Jerusalem Council
(ch. 15) as well as Paul’s circumcision of Timothy (16:1–3).
Paul in Book 5
The ¿fth book of Adversus Marcion continues the interrogation of wit-
nesses, with Tertullian turning speci¿cally to Marcion’s Apostolikon
after a carefully composed exordium setting out the terms of his chal-
lenge. The exordium opens by recalling a key theme of book 1,60 which
functions as a commonplace acceptable to all parties of the dispute:
“Nothing is without origin except God alone.” Tertullian draws the
epistemological consequences: in the case of originate beings, we can
only be certain of their existence—the basis for any evaluation of the
nature of that existence—through knowing their origins. This conclusion
seems forced, but it is clear where the argument is heading: “I desire to
hear from Marcion the origin of Paul the apostle” (Adv. Marc. 5.1.1).
Tertullian poses this question—which could be interpreted as hostile to
the apostle—under the cover of a new authorial voice, namely, that of “a
new disciple, one who has no ears for any other teacher” (novus disci-
pulus, nec ullius alterius auditor). This persona of an interested inquirer
allows him to declare as his single critical method that “nothing is to be
believed rashly” (qui nihil interim credam nisi nihil temere credendum).
57. Barth, “Tertullians Auffassung,” 737–41. See Tertullian, De prae. haer.

23.1–24.3 for his ¿rst attempt to ameliorate the apostles’ conÀict of Gal 2.
58. For a study of Tertullian’s use of Paul in this regard, see Claude Rambaux,
“La composition et l’exégèse dans les deux lettres Ad uxorem, le De exhortatione
castitatis et le De monogamia, ou la construction de la pensée dans les traités de
Tertullien sur le remariage,” REAug 22 (1976): 3–28, 201–17; 23 (1977): 18–55.
59. See Stephen Cooper, Marius Victorinus’ Commentary on Galatians (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2005), 200–206.
60. Adv. Marc. 1.3.2: “God is the supremely great, ¿rmly established in eternity,
unbegotten, uncreated” (deum summum esse magnum, aeternitate constitutum,
innatum, infectum).
He then turns to Marcion directly and frames a question loaded with

maritime metaphors, implying that he must have been rather more
careful with his business than with the goods of religion:
So then, shipmaster out of Pontus, supposing you have never accepted
into your craft any smuggled or illicit merchandise, have never at all
appropriated or adulterated (adulterasti) any cargo, and in the things of
God are even more careful and trustworthy, will you please tell us under
what bill of lading you accepted Paul as apostle (quo symbolo susceperis
apostolum Paulum), who had stamped him with that mark of distinction,
who commended him to you, and who put him in your charge? Only so
may you with con¿dence disembark him: only so can he avoid being
proved to belong to him who has put in evidence all the documents that
attest his apostleship. (Adv. Marc. 5.1.2, slightly altered)
Evans’s “bill of lading” renders symbolon, a Greek loan word attested in

this sense in Carthage for the contract (or the seal of it) between the
shipman and the owner of the cargo.61 The implication is that Marcion
had received Paul under the proper billing, but set him ashore no longer
quite the same.
Continuing to press the question of the authority of Paul’s gospel,
Tertullian reviews Marcion’s own claims about Paul. “Paul himself—
says Marcion—claims to be an apostle, indeed, an apostle not from men
nor through a man but through Jesus Christ [Gal 1:1]” (Adv. Marc.
5.1.3). Tertullian’s response to this is a legal argument: “Sure—anyone
can make a claim about himself, but his claim holds weight only by
someone else’s authority…. No one is both witness and claimant on his
own behalf” (my translation). Dropping his “guise of a disciple and an
inquirer,” he reverts to his catholic position, including the willingness to
accept typological interpretations. “Even Genesis long ago promised
Paul to me,” he claims, quoting Jacob’s dying benediction upon his son
Benjamin (Gen 49:27, RSV: “Benjamin is a ravenous wolf, in the
morning devouring the prey, and at even dividing the spoil”). According
to Tertullian, this verse is clearly a ¿gurative prophecy of Paul, who was
from the tribe of Benjamin! Likewise another Benjaminite, Saul, who in
abandoning pursuit of David (1 Sam 18) resembled Paul who persecuted
David’s son—the Christ—before repenting of his hostility toward him
(Adv. Marc. 5.1.5–6).
Tertullian brings up another document—essential to the catholic
canonization of Paul—but one he knew Marcion rejected. The Acts of
the Apostles “has transmitted this account of Paul to me, which is not to
61. Braun, Contre Marcion 5:72 n. 4.

be denied even by you” (my translation). This element of Paul’s vita,

being amply witnessed in his epistles, was not something that Marcion
could eliminate from his presentation of the apostle. If, as Marcion
maintained, Paul was not in service of the Creator, then “the apostle
ought not to teach, know, or intend anything in line with the Creator”
(Adv. Marc. 5.1.8, my translation). Tertullian then announces the thesis
he intends to demonstrate: “From now on I claim I shall prove that no
other god was the subject of the apostle’s profession, on the same terms
as I have proved this of Christ” (5.1.9). His evidence will be “the very62
epistles of Paul,” which have been “mutilated” even as regards their
number (the Pastoral Epistles were not part of Marcion’s Apostolikon).
Galatians is the ¿rst letter Tertullian discusses,63 as that stood at the
head of Marcion’s collection (as it likely did in the ten-letter edition he
utilized).64 In three chapters of the critical edition he examines passages
that either played a key role in Marcion’s theology or were particularly
useful to oppose him. Before Tertullian addresses any particular passage
from Galatians, he sets out where the catholic and the Marcionite
understandings of this letter concur: “We too admit that the main letter
against Judaism is the one that instructs the Galatians.” A further point of
agreement follows—“We certainly do embrace the full abolition of the
old law”—but then a quali¿cation comes that signals the agreement goes
only so far: “…an abolition, even the very one coming about from the
Creator’s direction” (Adv. Marc. 5.2.1, my translation). In accord with
Luke 16:16, “the law and the prophets were until John,” Tertullian offers
a prototypical supersessionist65 interpretation of the relation between
62. My translation. I follow Braun’s text here, which gives the reading of the
manuscripts (ex ipsis utique epistolis), instead of Evans’s conjecture of ipsius for
ipsis.
63. Book 5 treats Marcion’s ten Pauline letters at uneven lengths. Twenty pages
of the CCSL edition are dedicated to 1 Corinthians; ten pages for Galatians; eight for
Ephesians (which Marcion entitled Laodiceans); approximately six for both Romans
and 2 Corinthians; two to three on Colossians, 1 Thessalonians, 2 Thessalonians, and
Philippians each; and a bare two sentences on Philemon.
64. See Schmid, Marcion, 282–83, 294–96.
65. See the discussion of this concept in Daniel Boyarin’s review article, “The
Subversion of the Jews: Moses’s Veil and the Hermeneutics of Supersession,”
Diacritics 2 (1993): 16–35 (27): “ ‘Supersession’ can thus itself be understood in two
ways. It means either that Israel has been contradicted and replaced by the church or
that Israel has been ‘continued’ and ful¿lled in the church. What is common to the
two is that after Christ there is no further positive role for Israel in the Àesh. A
hermeneutic theory such as Paul’s, by which the literal Israel, literal history, literal
circumcision, and literal genealogy are superseded by their allegorical, spiritual
Christianity and Judaism: “the apostle removes his support from the old
but lends his weight to the new (vetera in¿rmat nova vero con¿rmat)…
Therefore both the tearing down of the law and the building up of the
gospel even in this letter turn out in my favor” (5.2.1–2, my translation).
With a clear perception of the historical situation of the Galatian
believers, he adds the forceful point that the Galatians “were presuming
the Christ to belong to the Creator and to be believed in along with the
maintenance of the Creator’s law.”
A further argument based on a reconstruction of the historical situation
of the Galatians and the dynamics of religious conversion allows Tertul-
lian again to point to the implausibility of Marcion’s supposition that
Paul preached a Christ of an unknown God. “If anyone had received a
new god”—Tertullian poses the matter counterfactually—“would he wait
very long to learn that he ought pursue a new rule of living?” (Adv.
Marc. 5.2.2, my translation). Obviously not. Had the Galatians received
from Paul the gospel of a god who was not the Creator, they would not
have been easily led to want to observe the Creator’s laws. In place of
Marcion’s contention that Paul was trying to call them away from that
Creator and his law, Tertullian has a more probable scenario as to what
Paul was doing in Galatians: “The entire purpose (tota intentio) of this
letter, therefore, is to teach nothing other than that the departure of the
law (legis discessionem) comes from the plan (dispositione) of the
Creator” (Adv. Marc. 5.2.4, my translation).
The ¿rst verse of Galatians Tertullian takes up is the apostle’s show of
shock (Gal 1:6) at his converts’ readiness to turn to another gospel (ad
aliud evangelium). Given that Paul’s language of “another gospel” had
been co-opted by Marcion, Tertullian is careful to gloss the sense of
aliud: “another (aliud) in manner of life, not in religion, another in rule
of conduct, not in divinity: because the gospel of Christ must needs be
calling them away from the law, not away from the Creator towards
another god” (Adv. Marc. 5.2.4). To undercut the Marcionite claims that
the Creator himself had a gospel (as promised in the Creator’s prophets),
Tertullian had to offer a better reading of Paul’s vehement anathema
against anyone who “has preached the gospel otherwise” (aliter66
evangelizaverit), even “an angel from heaven” (Gal 1:8). Like some
signi¿ed is not necessarily anti-Semitic or anti-Judaic.” Boyarin does not credit the
ancient or (most) modern interpreters of Paul with having avoided anti-Semitism or
anti-Judaism, as one can see from the remainder of his article.
66. On Tertullian’s translation of the Greek par’ ho as aliter, see Schmid,
Marcion, 74.
modern scholars,67 the Carthaginian takes Gal 1:8 to be an attack on the

advocates of circumcision mentioned in the preceding verse. Paul said
an angel as an example (gratia enim verbi dictum est) to make that point
that if an angel preaching thus is anathema, how much more a human
being (the common argument a maiore ad minus). This was meant to
anticipate, thinks Tertullian, the circumstances the apostle goes on to
detail in regards to those who were leading the Galatians astray. What
the apostle wrote in this letter corroborates (con¿rmat) the account in
Acts (15:5), where “certain persons intervened who said the men ought
to be circumcised and the law of Moses was to be kept” (Adv. Marc.
5.2.7). The responses of the apostles (Peter and James, left unnamed by
Tertullian) to these men prove that Acts agrees with Paul (congruent
Paulo Apostolorum Acta).
Tertullian turns to Paul’s conÀict with the false brethren secretly
brought (Gal 2:4) and to the subsequent narrative culminating with the
scene at Antioch between Peter and Paul. His discussion of this sum-
marizes what he said previously in the treatise about this letter: Paul had
gone to Jerusalem (Gal 2:1) “to confer with them concerning the content
of his gospel”; the clari¿cation that Titus was not compelled to be
circumcised (Gal 2:3) demonstrates that “it was solely the question of
circumcision which had suffered disturbance” through those whom “he
calls false brethren unawares brought in” (Gal 2:4); and that the charge
of perverting the gospel (Gal 1:7) relates not to the question of the God
of the gospel but to an improper “retention of the old rule of conduct”
(Adv. Marc. 5.3.1–2). Because Marcion’s text—like most of the Greek
manuscript tradition and modern editions—had the negative particle
at Gal 2:5 (which Tertullian’s catholic version apparently lacked),
Tertullian assumes he had suppressed it to deny that the apostle was
willing to maintain aspects of Jewish practice when the circumstances
warranted it, such as the circumcision of Timothy (Acts 16:2), and other
cases where Paul was willing “to become a Jew to the Jews in order to
gain Jews” (Adv. Marc. 5.3.5, my translation). Peter, James, and John did
well (bene) to join hands with Paul and enter into the agreement dividing
the mission ¿eld, with the stipulation that he remember the poor—which
67. Thus, François Vouga, An die Galater (HNT 10; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck,
1998), 23. Vouga, apparently unaware that he is following Tertullian, gives the same
analysis, including the idea that the mention of the angel “bereitet mit einem
Argument a fortiori den aktuellen Bezug der Klarstellung vor.” This strikes me as
preferable to the suggestion of Martyn (Galatians, 113) that the competing “Teach-
ers” had informed the Galatians “that their gospel is uttered to the whole of the
world by an angel who speaks through them.”
for Tertullian is another indication that “this too [was] according to the
law of that Creator who cherishes the poor and needy” (Adv. Marc.
5.3.5). This is clearly the God of the Jews whose law concerning alms-
giving the apostle was ready to ful¿ll. This is, perhaps needless to say, a
correct characterization of Judaism; and Tertullian not implausibly
supposes in this early period of Christianity that there was “a question
solely of the law, until a decision was reached as to how much of the law
it was convenient should be retained” (Adv. Marc. 5.3.7).
Tertullian then follows out Paul’s narratio to the question of Paul’s
rebuke of Peter (Gal 2:15–21). He refers to the Marcionite objection that
Peter was “not walking uprightly according to the truth of the gospel,”
and frankly admits that the text says Paul rebuked him (Plane reprehen-
dit). But the reason for the rebuke was not a matter of “any perverse view
of deity”—which he would have vehemently opposed anyone about—
but Peter’s alternating between observing Jewish dietary laws and not
observing them, depending on his eating companions. Tertullian declines
this time to attribute the rebuke to Paul’s inexperience in the mission
¿eld, but concludes the discussion of this segment of text with the
rhetorical question, Sed quomodo Marcionitae volunt credi? (“But what
do the Marcionites want it to mean?,” Adv. Marc. 5.3.7, my translation).
Tertullian had no need to answer the question, since he previously
(particularly in book 4) apprised his readers of Marcion’s theory of the
corruption of Christ’s gospel by his Judaizing apostles and Paul’s
struggle against them.68
Conclusion
Our pursuit of one thread of Tertullian’s presentation of Paul in Adversus
Marcionem has led us into the heart of the dispute with Marcion.
Without pretending to give a full account of Tertullian’s Paulinism or
his understanding of the gospel, I have attempted to show how his
presentation of Paul was shaped by the contours of Marcion’s distorted
but compelling portrait of the Apostle to the Gentiles as the only reliable
witness to the saving message of Christ. The centrality of Galatians to
the heresiarch’s audacious revision of the faith—his separation of law
from gospel—meant that Tertullian had to engage Marcion on his own
turf. He did this chieÀy by means of a largely literal approach to the
Epistles combined with his keen sense for the weakness of the opposing
argument. In the foregoing I have highlighted Tertullian’s rhetorical
68. For the passages in Tertullian that relate this theory, see Harnack, Marcion,
26–27.
strategy as granting elements of the Marcionite case—the great gulf

between Christianity and Judaism as distinctly different religious sys-
tems—but insisting that the phenomenon granted need not be interpreted
in the fanciful light of Marcion’s theology. While Tertullian could
honestly agree with Marcion that a de¿nitive “parting of the ways” of
Christianity from Judaism had taken place, he did not concur with the
heresiarch in reading the apostle as having posited law and gospel as
antithetical principles corresponding to different deities. In the face
of Marcion’s central assertion that Paul was an emissary of the Christ
who came to proclaim the gospel of his previously unknown Father,
Tertullian opted for a less speculative historical account—even when he
got the history wrong—and read the evidence at hand to construct a more
probable scenario concerning Paul and his gospel than that tendered by
Marcion.69 With greater toleration for ambiguity than the heresiarch,
Tertullian could see a more complex genealogy of the family of relig-
ions, extending from the one that Paul counted as loss for the sake of
Christ, to the Christianity the apostle preached (Phil 3:8, RSV), and to
that of Marcion.
Tertullian’s extensive engagement in Adversus Marcionem with the
Corpus Paulinum stands at the beginning of the history of Latin Christi-
anity’s exegetical affair with its favorite apostle. That he was brought to
this task by the attractiveness of Marcion’s revision of the apostle and his
gospel is no surprise to the student of church history, where the develop-
ment of doctrine proceeds in part through the highways and by-ways of
blunders and false starts that have for a time seemed the way of truth.
This was not lost on Tertullian. He was fond of quoting 1 Cor 11:19—
“there must be also heresies among you, that they which are approved
may be made manifest among you” (KJV)—and on one occasion he
allows that the inevitability of heresy arises from the openness of the
Scriptures to false interpretation (De res. carn. 40). Paul, as Tertullian
himself frankly acknowledged to the Marcionites, is “our common
teacher” (communem magistrum Paulum, Adv. Marc. 3.14.4; my transla-
tion), and for that very reason had to be an object of intense scrutiny and
investigation. Tertullian could not in this debate afford to “defame”
(blasphemo) the one he was defending (Adv. Marc. 5.1.6), but he was
also unwilling to let Marcion’s promotion of Paul as the gospel’s sole
suf¿cient witness go unchallenged.
69. See Todd D. Still, “Shadow and Light: Marcion’s (Mis)Construal of the
Apostle Paul,” in Paul and the Second Century (ed. Michael F. Bird and Joseph R.
Dodson; London: T&T Clark International, 2011), 91–107.
DID TERTULLIAN SUCCEED?
REFLECTIONS ON TERTULLIAN’S APPROPRIATION
OF PAUL IN HIS RESPONSE TO MARCION
Bruce W. Longenecker
The more things change, the more they stay the same. Referencing Paul
in theological debate has been commonplace throughout Christian
ecclesial history; so too has the phenomenon of Paul being claimed as an
ally by all parties in those disputes—in this case, by both Marcion and
Tertullian.
While Tertullian is the proto-orthodox hero in this particular story, I
want initially to salute Marcion for his theological sensitivity and for
what he was seeking to accomplish. Of course, his exegetical methods
and theological worldview seem far-fetched to the orthodox mind. But,
although we know of him only through the voices of his opponents (and
therefore must be cautious in claiming to know much about the nuances
of his motivation), it seems unwise to imagine him as driven by a
commitment to some philosophical system over which he merely draped
a veneer of Christianity. Instead, it is more likely that Marcion, having
had extensive exposure to proto-orthodox forms of Christianity (his
father having been a bishop of Sinope), was driven by a concern to sort
out tensions within texts received as authoritative within Christianity
and, consequently, to make Christianity more palatable to Greco-Roman
sensitivities—in particular, freeing it from what he perceived to be rustic
and uncivilized elements. In essence, then, his project ultimately derives
not so much from philosophical systems beyond proto-orthodox forms of
Christianity but from his convictions about the fundamental character of
Christianity.
One component of Marcion’s convictions about the fundamental
character of Christianity, arguably, had to do with violence. Within the
Judeo-Christian texts that were deemed authoritative among proto-
orthodox circles of second-century Christianity, Marcion had noted a
deeply entrenched tension concerning the legitimacy of violence. One

factor motivating Marcion’s dichotomization of law and gospel was his
perception (regardless of its merit) that the violence running rampant
throughout his world resonated with the modus operandi of “the god of
the Old Testament,” in complete contrast to the modus operandi of the
God of salvation revealed by Jesus.1 Calvin Roetzel captures something
of this when laying out Marcion’s understanding of the two competing
divinities in this way:
The creator God had Moses stretch out his hands to kill; the alien God
made Jesus Christ stretch out his hands to bless and to save. The creator
God urged Joshua to violence; the alien God had Christ forbid violence.
The creator God gave a law that required an “eye for an eye and a tooth
for a tooth”. The alien God commanded his followers to “turn the other
cheek” and to “repay no man evil for evil.”2
Marcion, quite likely, was sensitive to what he perceived to be a clash of

theological narratives of power—a narrative of “power through non-
violence” that he recognized in revered texts of Christianity on the one
hand, and, on the other hand, narratives of “power through violence” that
he saw advertised all around him, in the Greco-Roman stories of the gods
and (rightly or wrongly) in the Old Testament narratives of the Israel’s
divinity.3 In light of this perceived clash of narratives, Marcion went on
1. I am under no illusion that the issue of violence was the sole motivating factor
behind Marcion’s project, but it seems to have been a fairly central one nonetheless.
2. Calvin Roetzel, “Paul in the Second Century,” in The Cambridge Companion
to St. Paul (ed. James D. G. Dunn; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003),
227–41 (231). Richard I. Pervo (The Making of Paul: Constructions of the Apostle in
Early Christianity [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2010], 202–3) notes that while “Marcion
was not a philosophical theologian, nor was he a profound thinker,” what troubled
him most “was the contrast he saw between the just, angry, and vengeful god of the
Hebrew Bible and the goodness, love and mercy of the god proclaimed by Jesus.”
3. Similarly, it is important to note that, in the late second century C.E., the
strident opponent of Christianity, Celsus, incorporates precisely this issue into his
critique (of 177 C.E.) of the intellectual instability of Christianity.
“If the prophets of the God of the Jews foretold that he who should come into the
world would be the Son of this same God, how could he command them through
Moses to gather wealth, to extend their dominion, to ¿ll the earth, to put their
enemies of every age to the sword, and to destroy them utterly, which indeed he
himself did— as Moses says— threatening them, moreover, that if they did not obey
his commands, he would treat them as his avowed enemies; while, on the other hand,
his Son, the man of Nazareth, promulgated laws quite opposed to these, declaring
that no one can come to the Father who loves power, or riches, or glory; that men
ought not to be more careful in providing food than the ravens; that they were to be
less concerned about their raiment than the lilies; that to him who has given them
LONGENECKER Did Tertullian Succeed? 249
to construct a kind of Sachkritik (i.e., “analysis of the [theological] con-

tent”) derived from an unrelenting dichotomization of two main deities.
A distinction between law and gospel enabled Marcion to postulate not
only a corresponding distinction between two divinities but, more impor-
tantly, a corresponding distinction between two incompatible narratives
of violence and non-violence. Instead of worshipping a god of violence
“who was Àawed through and through,” Marcion’s theological project
enabled him “to register protest against the creator” whose violent world
was a reÀection of his own image and likeness.4
It is probably no coincidence that Marcion’s sensitivity to the inter-
relationship of power, violence, and theological narratives was forming
at precisely the point when Christianity was beginning to get some solid
traction among the elites in the corridors of societal power. It would not
have taken a clairvoyant to reveal to Marcion that those who wielded
violence most effectively (i.e., most destructively) were usually those at
the helm of social, religious, economic, and political power. Was it not
dangerous to put a deity of violence (as Marcion saw the deity of the Old
Testament) in the hands of those who could all too easily wield violence
for their own advantage?5 To his credit, Marcion spotted the issue and
sought to do something about it, ¿nding Paul’s law–gospel dichotomy as
the perfect tool to deprive those in power of a dangerous narrative. And
since Marcion’s inÀuence spread like wild¿re through the second half of
the second century C.E., when Christians were enlisting in the military
with some frequency, it seems that many ordinary people were also vot-
ing to keep dangerous narratives of power out of the hands of dangerous
people of power—even to the point of giving up their own lives in
protest.6
one blow, they should offer to receive another? Whether is it Moses or Jesus who
teaches falsely? Did the Father, when he sent Jesus, forget the commands which he
had given to Moses? Or did he change his mind, condemn his own laws, and send
forth a messenger with counter instructions?” (Origen, Cels. 7.18 [ANF])
4. The quotations are from Todd D. Still, “Shadow and Light: Marcion’s
(Mis)Construal of the Apostle Paul,” in Paul and the Second Century (ed. Michael
F. Bird and Joseph R. Dodson; London: T&T Clark International, 2011), 91–107
(98, 103).
5. And this is much to Marcion’s credit, since he himself originated from an
established, inÀuential, and well-resourced family. This is all the more clear if
Roetzel (“Paul in the Second Century,” 233) is right to state that Marcion “under-
stood the radical nature of Paul’s egalitarian tendencies. He…saw the import of
Paul’s gospel for the poor and for the disenfranchised.”
6. The willingness of Marcionites to undergo martyrdom is testi¿ed to by
Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 1.24, 27.
I do not intend to be Marcion’s encomiast, but merely to suggest that

Marcion’s efforts were driven by an underlying concern to craft the
moral identity of Christians in a responsible fashion, in accordance with
what he perceived to be the bedrock of Christian ethics.
How does Tertullian fare in all of this? If the issue is simply whether
Paul imagined his God to be the deity of the Old Testament, then obvi-
ously (and if it is safe to use that word anywhere, it is here) Tertullian
does far better justice to Paul than Marcion. Of course, some of the
exegetical techniques that Tertullian used to prove that Paul’s God is the
creator God are exegetically questionable from a historical-critical
perspective.7 Nonetheless, his efforts to demonstrate that the God of
salvation is the creator (and covenant) God of the Old Testament have a
¿rm foothold in the Pauline corpus.
But it needs also to be asked whether Tertullian may have won the
battle but lost the war—to put things only a bit too starkly, perhaps.
Offering a better reading of Paul’s texts, Tertullian rightly corrected
Marcion’s de¿cient dichotomization of alleged divinities. If this was the
task that Tertullian set for himself, then he succeeded. But might it be
that, in his attempt at wrong-footing Marcionism, Tertullian nonetheless
failed to capitalize on the moment? Might it be that Tertullian missed an
opportunity to offer, from a Pauline perspective, a robust alternative to
Marcion’s apparent concerns about theological narratives of power?
I enter this issue by way of Stephen Cooper’s telling suggestions
that Tertullian’s “presentation of Paul was shaped by the contours
of Marcion’s distorted but compelling portrait of the apostle,” that
“Tertullian had to engage Marcion on his own turf,” and that Tertullian’s
rhetorical strategy was one of “granting elements of the Marcionite case”
in order to correct that case from within, in a sense. If Cooper is right
about this, it seems to me that adopting this rhetorical strategy leaves
Tertullian open to the charge of articulating matters along lines that do
not always reÀect Paul’s most entrenched theological convictions and,
consequently, along lines ill-suited to address larger theological issues at
stake. Marcion had presented law and gospel as irreconcilable entities,
like water and oil. When Tertullian enters into debate with Marcion, he
enters it on Marcion’s terms, which arguably are not the terms that Paul
himself preferred. Tertullian rightly enlists Paul in his efforts to correct
Marcion’s de¿ciencies in understanding the identity of Paul’s God, but
by adopting the law–gospel dichotomy as the discursive center-point for
7. See, for instance, Adv. Marc. 5.11, where he tortuously interprets the phrase
“the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers” (2 Cor 4:4).
his engagement with Marcion, Tertullian may himself have been com-
plicit in a more widespread abandonment of Paul’s preferred theological
worldview.
It is true, of course, that Paul at times articulated things by way of a
straight-forward dichotomization of two salvi¿c principles—law and
faith, with faith and not law being in accord with the fundamental
“soteriological principle” of Paul’s gospel (i.e., divine grace in trium-
phant procession restoring a world in the grip of chaotic forces). For
Paul, although the law had served several God-ordained roles prior to the
“coming” of faith, it is now recognizable that the law does not serve a
soteriological role in relation to God’s transforming grace.8
If Tertullian “bought into” this dichotomous construct that Paul articu-
lated on occasion and that Marcion fully utilized, it is important to note
that Paul was never quite satis¿ed to leave the law and the gospel in a
wholly dichotomous relationship (at least when he moves into “non-
soteriological” frames of reference, although even that way of articulating
the matter looks suspiciously dubious). Paul constructed a dichotomous
relationship between law and faith (as in Gal 3:11–12, for instance) when
it seemed most prudent to do so within a particular rhetorical context.
When Gentile Jesus-followers in Galatia were being presented with a
forceful case for seeing nomistic observance and faith in Christ as two
parts of a single soteriological whole, for instance, Paul depicted law and
gospel as alternatives. But elsewhere, and even within his Galatian letter,
Paul saw scope for bringing the two into a more harmonious relationship
(e.g., 5:13–14; 6:2; see further references below).
When Tertullian associated the law with the saving Father of Jesus
Christ (who is also the creator God and the covenant God of Israel), he
moved along constructive Pauline lines of thought, and his discursive
parameters were broad enough to incorporate Pauline assertions that
would not have served Marcion’s interests without some heavy nuances
to accompany them. So, for instance, Tertullian’s scheme can incorporate
the following Pauline statements with ease:
8. Was Paul’s theology supersessionistic, as both Marcion and Tertullian sup-

pose? The simple answer is yes. But that answer is far too bald in its current form,
and requires much greater quali¿cation than can be offered here. It needs to be said,
however, that Paul’s form of supersessionism (along with the supersessionism of
other Jewish parties and sects of his day) never deteriorated into a “replacement
theology” in which the people of Israel have been replaced in God’s affections by
Gentile Jesus-followers. See Bruce W. Longenecker, “On Israel’s God and God’s
Israel: Assessing Supersessionism in Paul,” JTS 58 (2007): 26–44.
x the law is “holy, righteous, and good” (Rom 7:12);

x “the oracles” of (Paul’s) God were given to the people of Israel
(Rom 3:2), along with many other glorious aspects of their
history (Rom 9:1–5);
x “scripture…declared the gospel beforehand” (Gal 3:8) and,
when rightly interpreted, articulates the gospel even now (Rom
1:2, 17; 3:31–4:25; 10:6–13; 2 Cor 3; etc.);
x the law can be understood as having been “written for our sake”
(1 Cor 9:10) and “for our instruction” so that “by the encourage-
ment of the scriptures we might have hope” (Rom 15:4);
x Jesus-followers “have the same spirit/Spirit of faith that is in
accordance with scripture” (2 Cor 4:13).
Tertullian’s project when rejecting Marcion’s views allows for an appre-
ciation of statements such as these, and at times he showcased these
statements directly.9 But what Tertullian never quite articulated in his
response to Marcion is an explicit construct that would have enabled him
to reconceptualize and transcend Marcion’s either–or construct and offer
his audiences fruitful theological resources from a more productive
Pauline perspective. In his response to Marcion, Tertullian operated
primarily within an either–or construct dictated by Marcion’s interests
and expended his energies tweaking that construct in important ways.
While his line of argument does justice to one form of Pauline discourse,
to place all of one’s theological eggs in that basket is to risk losing other
Pauline ways of formulating the relationship of law and gospel—other
ways that at times hold more theological promise.
Here I offer a suggestive demonstration as to why the discursive
parameters of a law–gospel dichotomy do not lie at Paul’s preferred cen-
ter of theological gravity. This demonstration begins in Rom 14:1–15:6,
9. One case in point, for instance, is when Tertullian interprets the stipulation to
“remember the poor” in Gal 2:10 not as the Jerusalem apostles instructing Paul to
send their communities’ money (on the supposition that “the poor” were based in
Jerusalem) but as a stipulation to extend care to the poor throughout Paul’s mission
to the Gentiles. As Tertullian points out, what was being debated in the episode of
Gal 2:1–10 is “what portion of the law it was convenient to have observed” (Adv.
Marc. 5.3). That is, what the apostles agreed upon was that the scriptural command-
ment regarding circumcision was not relevant to all Jesus-followers, whereas the
scriptural commandment regarding care for the poor was relevant to all Jesus-
followers. As I have shown elsewhere, this insight is of immense import as a correc-
tive to disastrously inaccurate readings of Gal 2:10. See Bruce W. Longenecker,
Remember the Poor: Paul, Poverty, and the Greco-Roman World (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 2010), esp. 157–206.
which is almost a sibling text to Gal 2:11–14—a passage that was

favored by Marcion and featured in a different fashion by Tertullian. In
the Galatian passage, of course, Paul recounts his attack on Peter (and
others) for compromising the freedom of Gentile Jesus-followers to live
as Gentiles and not as Jews. This passage from Galatians is easily
incorporated within the law–gospel dichotomy. But notice that the same
is not so obviously the case for Rom 14:1–15:6. There, Paul addresses
those who were not doing enough to ensure that Jewish Jesus-followers
felt free to live as Jews within the body of Christ. In that context, Paul
defends the rights of Jewish Jesus-followers to observe the law as a
cultural component of their identity before God, should they choose to
do so.10
This passage does not take us to some backwater of Paul’s theological
worldview, or to some second-rate concession on Paul’s part—a view
that might arise if one’s theological frame of reference operates solely on
the basis of a law–gospel dichotomy.11 In fact, Paul’s case-study in the
corporate life of Jesus-followers in Rom 14:1–15:6 provides him with
the resources to summarize the grand scheme that he has been advocat-
ing throughout the earlier ¿fteen chapters of Romans. Notably, Rom
15:1–6 pivots into Rom 15:7–13, where Paul’s discourse is characterized
by “a heightened eloquence and compelling power” that “is evidently
intended to round off the body of the letter, both the theological treatise
[of Rom 1–11] and the resulting paraenesis [of Rom 12–15].”12 In this
way, Rom 14:1–15:6 is to be recognized as a case study in Christian
identity informed by the deepest theological resources of Paul’s letter.
In fact, in important ways Rom 14:1–15:6 takes us to the very heart of
Paul’s theological system altogether—that is, Paul’s theology of divine
sovereignty and the self-giving moral identity that derives from God’s
10. Notice, of course, that these Jewish Jesus-followers are not depicted as
imagining their observance of the law to be salvi¿cally ef¿cient for them. On the
issue that Paul is addressing in this passage, see esp. John Barclay, “ ‘Do We
Undermine the Law?’: A Study of Romans 14.1–15:6,” in Paul and the Mosaic Law
(ed. James D. G. Dunn; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996), 287–308. Barclay’s con-
clusions about the weaknesses of Paul’s discursive strategy in Rom 14–15 are
challenging, but elsewhere Paul provides other theological resources to offset those
potential weaknesses.
11. The fact that this passage might appear to be a bit of a theological cul-de-sac
con¿rms that the ghost of Marcion lives on in those of us who can only imagine that
Paul always opposed observance of the law.
12. The quotations are from Robert Jewett, Romans (Hermeneia; Minneapolis:
Fortress, 2007), 887, and James D. G. Dunn, Romans (2 vols.; WBC 38A–B; Dallas,
Tex.: Word, 1988), 2:844.
triumph in Christ. In Paul’s vision of things, communities of Jesus-

followers were to be characterized by full-bodied diversity and fully
embodied love, in a necessarily inseparable fashion. Corporate diversity
was meant to reÀect the fullness of God’s creative hand; relatedly, the
love that was to transpire between diverse Jesus-followers was not so
much an emotional feeling but a practical expression of cruciform self-
giving for the bene¿t of others. This combination of self-giving within
fully diverse communities lay at the heart of Paul’s theological project
precisely because it testi¿es to the power of the sovereign God, putting
to shame all other claimants to sovereignty. In comparison to Paul’s ideal
Jesus-group, all other groups and associations were monochrome in their
corporate constituency; consequently, any forms of care for the other
within those collections of people were not much more than expressions
of care for one’s own—being little more than a slightly more complex
form of self-interestedness. It is only when care for the other is expressed
among groups of fully diverse members that the transforming power of
God (rather than a corporately shared survival instinct) can be attributed
to their corporate life. For Paul, when self-giving behaviors transpire
among diverse members of Jesus-groups, those behaviors are attributable
solely to the working of the Spirit of the self-giving Jesus, through whom
God is reclaiming his world. When addressing the matter of “the weak”
and “the strong” in Rom 14–15, Paul concluded his advice about that
situation by interweaving it with this narrative of divine triumph in self-
giving (15:1–6), and then uses that as the platform to summarize that
narrative one ¿nal time, as if to encapsulate the main theological strands
that have been running throughout the letter from the start (15:7–13).
In light of this, it probably would have horri¿ed Paul to learn that his
gospel would later be used (by Marcion and others throughout the
centuries) to undermine Jewish identity—especially within groups of
those who followed Jesus, who himself was “born under the law to
redeem those under the law” (Gal 4:4) and who became a “servant to the
circumcised” (Rom 15:8). For Paul, observance of the law by Jewish
Jesus-followers was to be embraced as a legitimate expression of identity
within Jesus-groups—not least in order to maintain the diversity of
identity within Jesus-groups, in order that self-giving across identity
boundaries could testify to God’s transforming power.13 Accordingly,
13. This is true, of course, as long as nomistic observance was not seen to have a
salvi¿c function and did not result in implicating Gentile Jesus-followers as second-
rate members (since inequality has no place within Jesus-groups). Moreover, Paul
saw his own apostolic commission as requiring him to adopt and abandon Jewish
Gal 2:11–14 and Rom 14:1–15:6 function as two sides of the same coin.
If imposing nomistic observance among Gentile Jesus-followers was
likened to a form of slavery and a compromise of cruciform sonship
in the Galatian context (Gal 4:1–11), so too the opposite impulse of
expunging nomistic observance from Jesus-groups would result in the
undermining of cruciformity (Rom 14:15; 15:1–6), thereby threatening to
destroy God’s liberative working among them (Rom 14:15, 20).
This intricate narrative of divine sovereignty capturing an out-of-joint
Darwinian cosmos through cruciform self-giving places us in a much
better position to recognize the nexus of Paul’s primary theological
discourse, over and above any version of the law–gospel dichotomy—
whether Marcion’s, Tertullian’s, or another version altogether. It is
critical to Paul’s theological program, in fact, that cruciform self-giving
between otherwise dissimilar Jesus-followers should be seen as a point
of intersection between (and interlock of) the gospel and the law. When
the diverse collection of Jesus-followers (i.e., Jews and Gentiles, males
and females, slaves and free, and on and on, we should imagine) care for
one another and bear one another’s burdens, beyond any ordinary expec-
tation, it is precisely in those transformed relationships of cruciformity
that, in Paul’s view, the law ¿nds its ultimate ful¿llment (Gal 5:13–14;
6:2; Rom 13:8–10). It is precisely in Christ-like self-giving that “the
righteous requirement of the law” becomes “ful¿lled” in Jesus-followers
whose lives were animated by the Spirit of the self-giving one (Rom
8:4). In this frame of reference, Paul feels free to depict the law as “the
law of Christ” (Gal 6:2), “the law of faith” (as opposed to “the law of
works,” Rom 3:27), and “the law of the Spirit of life” (as opposed to “the
law of sin and death,” Rom 8:2).
Originating in Rom 14:1–15:6 (itself the sibling passage of Gal 2:11–
14), this demonstration has taken us from the side-road of the law–gospel
dichotomy to the major highway of Paul’s theological worldview. In
fact, numerous data from Paul’s texts overspill the constraints of a law–
gospel dichotomy—precisely the dichotomy that undergirded Marcion’s
project and that Tertullian adopted when countering Marcion.14 Part of
practices as necessary, in light of the exigencies for the perpetuation of the gospel
(1 Cor 9:19–23); but he did not imagine his own apostolic practice to be a model for
all Jewish Jesus-followers.
14. Tertullian’s failure to capitalize on Paul’s participationistic theology when
decrying Marcion is all the more poignant if Robert D. Sider is right to claim that
Tertullian’s view of Paul generally “does not take its point of departure from an
antithesis between law and grace but from a vivid sense of the signi¿cance of the
age in which we live and of the presence of the Spirit as the sign of that age.” See his
the reason for this “overspill” is that the law–gospel dichotomy is itself
off-center from the primary nexus of Paul’s theological preferences.
Paul’s thought is not driven primarily by a differentiation between law
and faith; instead, while Paul employs various metaphors to interpret
what God has done in Christ, it is “participationism” that takes center
stage in so much that characterizes Paul’s distinctive discourse. The
structural framework for Paul’s participationistic theology is most
basically articulated in this way: “I have died with Christ, so that Christ
lives in me” (cf. Gal 2:19–20). For Paul, Jesus-followers have died with
the self-giving Christ, who now lives in his followers, as self-giving
is enlivened in them through the power of the Spirit. This discursive
center, rather than a law–gospel dichotomy, undergirds Paul’s theologi-
cal distinctiveness. If a good number of passages from Paul’s letters
overspill the law–gospel dichotomy, the overspill is mopped up by Paul’s
eschatological participationism.
Of course, Paul’s participationism is a dif¿cult thing to get a hold of,
as the testimony of reception history all too often illustrates. The author
of Acts, for instance, fails to do justice to it in his depiction of Paul’s
ministry, as did those canonical authors who sought to articulate his
voice after his death (e.g., the author/authors of 1 Timothy and Titus,
whom some have imagined as countering Marcionite inÀuence in the
middle of the second century).15 Similarly, Polycarp (69–155 C.E.)
admitted that neither he nor others could “follow the wisdom of the
blessed and glorious Paul” (Letter of Polycarp 3.2). In the second-
century Acts of Paul and Thecla, Paul appears as one whose simple faith
heroically animated a model life and a fearless death, despite the threat
of violent abuse by those who wielded power. But the hero of Acts of
Paul and Thecla is nonetheless a Paul who advocates a very “thin”
theology, lacking in any full-blooded participationism. Evidently, the
author of 2 Peter spoke for many when he said, “There are some things
in them [Paul’s letters] that are hard to understand” (3:15).
Unfortunately, whenever Paul’s participationism is lost from sight, the
chances of retrieving meaningful resources from his texts is greatly
diminished. This is the tragedy of Marcion’s situation. Ironically, the
“Literary Arti¿ce and the Figure of Paul in the Writings of Tertullian,” in Paul and
the Legacies of Paul (ed. William S. Babcock; Dallas, Tex.: Southern Methodist
University Press, 1990), 99–120 (119). Even if this is true, however, Tertullian’s
grasp of “the dynamic center of Paul’s theology” (114) falls short of a full-bodied
participationism in Christ.
15. In my view, 2 Timothy is likely to have been written by Paul himself, even if
the same is not the case for 1 Timothy and Titus.
resources that Marcion needed in order to address issues of violence

were embedded within Paul’s participationism that he seems not to have
understood. Increasingly scholars are noticing how a discourse on
violence is ¿rmly embedded within Paul’s participationism. A very
cursory glance at Galatians, for instance, demonstrates the potential for
understanding Paul’s participationism in this way, as outlined in the
following paragraph:
The Paul who had adopted violence as his modus operandi prior to his
christophany (i.e., as a persecutor of others) has now been cruci¿ed with
the one who himself was violently cruci¿ed. Animated by the Spirit of
the self-giving one, and with the stigmatic marks of Jesus’ self-giving
non-violence embedded within his own Àesh, Paul now lives in a “new
creation” characterized by a unique modus operandi—the overthrow of
conÀict through self-giving, despite the full-bodied diversity of its mem-
bership. What is true for Paul is also true for Jesus-followers in general.
They used to live under the divisive inÀuence of the “stoicheia of the
world,” resulting in lives of competitive strife and envious hatred, always
under the threat of animosity-induced destruction. In contrast to the ways
of the present evil age, Jesus-followers now are to be characterized by
Spirit-inspired, life-giving, law-ful¿lling, self-giving service, both to
other Jesus-followers and to those beyond their number. Deliverance
from the present evil age and the establishment of a new creation is
manifest among Christians as faith works practically in self-giving love
across boundaries of each and every kind.
This rough digest of central features of Paul’s Galatian letter resonates

with the view of a growing number of scholars. To give one example,
Michael Gorman claims, “Paul’s experience of the resurrected cruci¿ed
Messiah Jesus results in his conversion away from zealous violence and
toward nonviolence and nonviolent forms of reconciliation.”16
If observations of this kind are along the right lines, then Paul’s parti-
cipationism contains potent resources not only for a nuanced view of the
relationship of law and gospel (as noted above), but also for a robust
reÀection on power and violence. If Marcion’s project was fundamen-
tally an exercise in Sachkritik, the participationistic nexus of Paul’s
thought (rather than a law–gospel dichotomy) would have been a much
16. Michael J. Gorman, Inhabiting the Cruciform God: Kenosis, Justi¿cation,

and Theosis in Paul’s Narrative Soteriology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 130.
Others who have articulated somewhat similar insights include N. T. Wright, Luise
Schottroff, Juሷrgen Sauer, Willard M. Swartley, Gordon Zerbe, and Davina Lopez.
See also the work of my former Ph.D. student Jeremy Gabrielson, Jesus, Paul, and
the Theological Politics of Peace (Eugene, Ore.: Wipf & Stock, forthcoming). See
also, signi¿cantly, Tertullian, Scorp. 13.1.
more potent place to start that project, and one that would have suf¿-
ciently met Marcion’s theological requirements on that score.
Accordingly, we might be permitted a moment of speculation to
engage in an exercise of alternative history—imaginatively speculating
on how things might have happened differently. In order to assist in this
imaginative exercise, let us conjure up two counter-factual scenarios:
(1) Paul’s participationistic theology circulated with probity and inÀu-
ence in second-century Christianity, and (2) as a consequence, Marcion
found Paul’s letters to offer a foothold for sidelining theological narra-
tives of violence through a participationistic Sachkritik. How might
Tertullian’s literary corpus be different to the one we know if such an
alternative history had taken shape? Two outcomes might be imagined.
In the ¿rst version of our alternative history, because Marcion did not
need to postulate a dichotomization of two divinities in order to offset
theological narratives of violence, he never rose to prominence as a
distinctive (i.e., “heretical”) voice. In this scenario, Marcion did not leave
a mark in the timeline of (alternative) history—much to the satisfaction
of the Tertullian of our non-alternative history.
In the second version of our alternative history, Marcion rose to promi-
nence as one who recognized within Paul’s participationistic theology
robust resources necessary for the shaping Christian attitudes toward
violence, and who articulated a discourse that bolstered the defenses of
Christianity against conscription by those who would build empires
through violence. In this scenario, Tertullian (who even in our non-
alternative history added his own voice to the opposition of violence)17
did everything he could to perpetuate and enhance Marcion’s contribu-
tions to the crafting of Christian identity.
Perhaps this is one instance in which we might wish that history had
indeed been otherwise.
17. See, for instance, Apol. 36–37; De idol. 17–19; De cor. 11; De pat. 3; Scorp.
13.1.
10
THE WORLD TO COME:
TERTULLIAN’S CHRISTIAN ESCHATOLOGY
William Tabbernee
In 208 C.E., or slightly later, Quintus Septimius Florens Tertullianus

(160/70–ca. 220) became passionately committed to a Christian pro-
phetic movement known to its adherents as the New Prophecy. This
movement, later called Montanism,1 had originated in West-Central
Phrygia some forty or so years earlier and was, at the time, attracting
followers in Carthage. However, neither Tertullian himself nor any other
North African Christian in the ¿rst decade of the third century C.E. left
the Carthaginian “Catholic” church to form a separatist Montanist con-
gregation. Nonetheless, one or more of the various house-churches, of
which Carthaginian Christianity as a whole was comprised, favored the
new movement. Some of their members even became second-generation
“Montanist” prophetesses.2 Tertullian utilized the sayings of these third-
century prophetesses as well as those of the original second-century
founders to interpret Scripture and to receive new insights about a range
of Christian topics, including “the world to come.”
Tertullian had been a Christian for perhaps a decade by the time he
became inÀuenced by the New Prophecy/Montanism. He was a well-
educated, highly literate, and articulate member of Carthage’s upper
class and had already written numerous treatises defending Christianity
1. On Montanism, see Christine Trevett, Montanism: Gender, Authority, and the

New Prophecy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996); William Tabbernee,
Fake Prophecy and Polluted Sacraments: Ecclesiastical and Imperial Reactions
to Montanism (Leiden: Brill, 2007). The literary and epigraphic sources are col-
lected and translated into English by Ronald E. Heine, The Montanist Oracles and
Testimonia (PatrMS 14; Macon, Ga.: Mercer University Press, 1989), and William
Tabbernee, Montanist Inscriptions and Testimonia: Epigraphic Sources Illustrating
the History of Montanism (PatrMS 16; Macon, Ga.: Mercer University Press, 1997).
See also William Tabbernee, Prophets and Gravestones: An Imaginative History of
Montanists and Other Early Christians (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2009).
2. William Tabbernee, “Recognizing the Spirit: Second-generation Montanist
Oracles,” StPatr 40 (2006): 521–26.
in light of anti-Christian “pagan” polemics; promoting Christian ortho-

doxy in light of “Gnostic” and other “heretical” competitors; and provid-
ing practical advice on matters ranging from baptism to marriage after
the death of one’s spouse. Even various aspects of what he, and the
community out of which and to which he wrote, believed about the end
of the present world and the world to come had not escaped Tertullian’s
“pre-Montanist pen.”
Tertullian’s Eschatology Before 208 C.E.

The Resurrection of the Dead
The dominant theme in Tertullian’s eschatology is his passionate belief
in the resurrection of the dead, a topic to which he refers in almost all of
his early works. Answering the charge that Christians have an unusual
contempt for death, Tertullian, in Ad nationes (To the Heathen) written
ca. 197, counters that what appears to be “contempt” is simply the reality
that Christians take for granted “a resurrection of the dead” (Ad nat.
1.19.2). This resurrection is not to be confused with reincarnation. It is
the deceased’s original body, reunited with his or her own soul, recreated
by God ex nihilo, just as the ¿rst human beings were created by God “out
of nothing” (Ad nat. 1.19.4; Apol. 48.1–15).
Contrary to the views of heretical teachers such as Marcion (Àor. ca.
140–155), Apelles (Àor. ca. 145–160), and Valentinus (Àor. ca. 130–
160), whom he denounced collectively as “modern Sadducees” (De carn.
Chris. 1.1; cf. De res. carn 2.2), Tertullian insisted on the physical resur-
rection of the body and devoted two treatises speci¿cally to this topic.
The thrust of the ¿rst of these, the De carne Christi (On the Flesh of
Christ), written between 203 and 206, was to deprive the followers of
Marcion (1.2; 2.1–5.10), Apelles (1.3; 6.1–8.7), and Valentinus (1.3;
15.1–6) of one of their main arguments against the resurrection of the
dead. By not believing in the “Àesh of Christ,” the “heretics” were able
to deny the bodily resurrection not only of Christ himself but of all
human beings (De carn. Chris. 1.1–2).
Tertullian, after systematically countering Marcion’s, Apelles’, and
Valentinus’ views about “the Àesh of Christ,” promises to devote a
whole future treatise to “the resurrection of our own Àesh” (De carn.
Chris. 15.2). That work, appropriately titled De resurrectione carnis,3
3. In some manuscripts the work is titled De resurrectione mortuorum (On the

Resurrection of the Dead). As the main issue at stake was not merely the resurrec-
tion of the dead, but whether or not those resurrected would be reunited with their
earthly bodies, the title De resurrectione carnis (On the Resurrection of the Body)
appears to be the more appropriate one.
TABBERNEE The World to Come 261
however, was not written until around 210 C.E.—well after Tertullian’s
adherence to the New Prophecy movement.
A Contemporary Problem
The teachings of Marcion, Apelles, and Valentinus, although promul-
gated half a century before his own time, were, nonetheless, a contem-
porary problem for Tertullian. There were still people alive in his day
who had been taught personally by Apelles (De prae. haer. 30.5–7) as
well as early third-century followers of Marcion (Adv. Marc. 1.1.6) and
Valentinus (Adv. Val. 1.1–2.1). Some of these, like the disciples of
Praxeas and other heretics were active in Carthage (Adv. Prax. 1.6–7;
De bapt. 1.2), winning “Catholic” Christians over to their side (De prae.
haer. 3.2). Such desertion from the “true faith” troubled Tertullian.
Although not a presbyter, as was sometimes assumed by later writers
(e.g., Jerome, Vir. ill. 53),4 he seems to have been one of the “lay elders”
(seniores laici) who, in Carthage, comprised an oversight council
responsible for maintaining ecclesiastical discipline and the purity of the
faith (Apol. 39.1–5; De pud. 14.16).5
Tertullian’s earliest literary foray into “enemy territory” was his De
praescriptione haereticorum (Prescription against Heretics), written ca.
203. In that work he deals quite broadly with Marcionite, Apellian, and
Valentinian teachings, as well as those of other heretics. In the penulti-
mate sentence of that work, Tertullian promises to write speci¿c treatises
on each of these heresies (De prae. haer. 44.13), a promise he keeps.
Almost immediately, Tertullian made a ¿rst attempt at writing a treatise
against Marcion, only to rescind it later as an immature and too hastily
written work. This ¿rst Adversus Marcionem is no longer extant. Nor has
the second edition, written pre-208, survived. It was pilfered by one of
Tertullian’s (former) friends, inaccurately transcribed and published
without Tertullian’s permission (Adv. Marc. 1.1.1). A third, expanded
edition, written after the De carne Christi, has fortunately survived. Not
so fortunate has been the fate of Tertullian’s Adversus Apelleiacos
(Against the Apellians), mentioned in De carn. Chris. 8.2–3. His
Adversus Valentinianos (Against the Valentinians), written ca. 206/7,
however, is extant.6
4. See Timothy D. Barnes, Tertullian: A Historical and Literary Study (rev. ed.;
Oxford: Clarendon, 1985), 11.
5. William Tabbernee, “Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry in
Carthage in c. 203 C.E.,” PRSt 32 (2005): 437–38.
6. As is a work, titled Adversus Hermogenem (Against Hermogenes), written
perhaps a year earlier, countering the views of a local Carthaginian heretic already
discussed brieÀy in the De praescriptione haereticorum (33.9).
The Last Judgment

As early as in his Prescription Against Heretics, Tertullian stressed the
importance of the regula ¿dei (Rule of Faith). This authoritative sum-
mary of what orthodox (or, better, proto-orthodox) Christians believed
included a synopsis of what was universally accepted about what would
happen at the end of the present age: Christ would come again in glory.
All of humanity, both saints and sinners, would be resurrected through
the restoration of their bodies. Christ would condemn the wicked to
eternal ¿re but lead the righteous into everlasting life, enjoying what was
promised them about heaven. None of this, argued Tertullian, raises
questions among the faithful, other than those questions raised by
heretics (De prae. haer. 13.6).
One of these questions, as we have seen, concerned the physical
resurrection of the dead. This question, as Tertullian pointed out, had been
around since the time of the Apostle Paul (1 Cor 15:12) but had been
revived by Marcion, Apelles, and Valentinus (De prae. haer. 33.6–7).
An integrally related question concerned the ultimate fate of humanity.
According to Tertullian, the reason why all of humanity would one
day be resurrected and the souls of people reunited with their bodies was
so that they might all participate in the ¿nal Day of Judgment (De paen.
3.6). This judgment had been ordained by God (Ad nat. 1.19.5) as the
judgment seat of Christ (De spect. 30.4). Christians should long for this
day, knowing that it will result in their eternal bliss (De spect. 29.3; cf.
De prae. haer. 13.5). They should also use the knowledge of the coming
of that day as a reminder to live good lives, being aware that angels are
watching and recording every act to be revealed at the time of judgment
(De spect. 27.3). On that day, all will be judged according to their merits
(Ad. nat. 1.19.5; Apol. 48.4, 12), and the temporal world as it exists now
will come to an end (Apol. 48.11; De spect. 30.2).
The Day of Judgment will be inaugurated by the trumpets of angels
and the glorious spectacle of the coming again of Christ, with angelic
hosts and the rising of all from the dead (De spect. 30.1). It will end with
the assignment of the wicked to the Àames of perpetual ¿re (Apol. 48.13)
and the destruction of the world, also by ¿re (De spect. 30.2).
The End of the World

In ch. 5 of his De oratione (On Prayer), written between 198 and 203,
Tertullian, in commenting on the phrase “Thy kingdom come” in the
Lord’s Prayer, argues that Christians must not pray for the continuation
of the present world. Rather, they should pray for the “consummation.”
According to Tertullian, the souls of the martyrs were crying out to the
Lord, asking how long it would be before their blood would be avenged
(De or. 5.3; cf. Rev 6:10). Pointing out that the avenging of the martyrs
is accomplished through the ¿nal judgment at the end of the age,
Tertullian asks his readers to pray that the kingdom will come quickly
(De or. 5.4).
Tertullian attributes the fact that the end of the world has not come yet
to the patience of God with the ungrateful, persecuting nations who have
forgotten that they owe their very existence to God (Ad nat. 2.17.18;
Apol. 26.1; 30.1–3). However, just as earlier empires have fallen, God
has predetermined the fate of the Roman Empire, a fate known already to
Christians (Ad nat. 2.17.18). Exactly when these things would occur was
still not clear, but Christians should be alert, ¿xing their eyes on the
direction the world was taking and reckoning up the periods of time (De
spect. 29.3). Their own patience should emulate God’s, reinforced by the
certain hope of the resurrection of the dead and the subsequent judgment
of the wicked and the world itself (De pat. 2.1–3; 9.2; 16.5).
In the tract Ad martyras (To the Martyrs), written ca. 197 to a number
of Christians in a Carthaginian jail, Tertullian encourages the martyrs-
designate by pointing out that the world was awaiting its own judg-
ment—not the proconsul’s, but God’s (Ad mart. 2.3). In fact, at the ¿nal
judgment, the martyrs themselves will, along with Christ, judge those
who, on earth, have judged them (Ad mart. 2.4; cf. De spect. 30.3).
Paradise (View One)

In the meantime, the souls of the martyrs, along with those of the other
faithful dead, would await the resurrection of the body and the ¿nal
judgment in a particular section of Hades (the “lower regions”) called
Paradise. Paradise, a quite beautiful zone of the subterranean underworld,
was separated by a wall from hell, the place of mysterious ¿re and
punishment (Apol. 47.12–13).
Sometime before 208/9, Tertullian wrote a whole treatise on the topic
of Paradise (Adv. Marc. 5.12.8; De an. 55.5). According to Charles E.
Hill, part of this work, long considered totally lost, may in fact be the
fragmentary De universo (On the Universe), traditionally attributed to
Hippolytus (ca. 170–236/7), or, at least that the extant De universo bor-
rowed heavily from Tertullian’s De paradiso.7 If so, this would provide
greater details of Tertullian’s view of Hades and Paradise at that time.
All that Tertullian himself says about that work, however, is that in it he
demonstrated that the souls of all human beings were sequestered safely
in Hades until the Day of the Lord (De an. 55.5).
7. Charles E. Hill, “Hades of Hippolytus or Tartarus of Tertullian? The Author-

ship of the Fragment De Universo,” VC 43 (1989): 105–26.
The “Afterlife”
In the extant treatises emanating from Tertullian’s pen before he was
inÀuenced by the New Prophecy, there is surprising little about the life
of the faithful after the Day of Judgment. There are references to the
“kingdom of God” (De or. 5.1–4) and “the kingdom of the righteous”
(De spect. 30.1) as well as to “a region of bliss” (Ad nat. 1.19.6):
Christians are described as “living eternally in the presence of God”
(Apol. 48.13); “clothed” in a new incorruptible nature of some kind,
somewhat akin to that of the angels (Apol. 48.13; Ad ux. 1.1.4); and
enjoying everlasting life and heavenly promises” (De prae. haer. 13.5).
The reader is left to guess, however, exactly what these references mean
and of what life in the “world to come” will consist.
On one matter, however, Tertullian is totally adamant: in the afterlife
there will be no sexual intercourse. In ca. 203, Tertullian wrote the ¿rst
of two works titled Ad uxorum (To His Wife). These relatively short
books functioned as living wills giving advice to his spouse in the event
of his death. He encourages her to not remarry for her own sake—not
his. On the day of resurrection, Tertullian tells her, no voluptuous activi-
ties will recommence between them as they will be changed into not only
the nature, but also the sanctity of angels (1.1.2–6). By not remarry-
ing after his death and enrolling in the of¿cial ecclesiastical Order of
Widows,8 she will already be “wedded to God,” considered to be part of
the family of angels, and living in the presence of God in preparation for
doing so eternally (1.4.3–8; 1.5.1; 1.7.4, 8).
Tertullian’s Eschatology After 208 C.E.

The New Jerusalem
The only “pre-Montanist” reference to the New Jerusalem by Tertullian
is in his De spectaculis. In that treatise, the New Jerusalem (De spect.
1.1) is listed among the unparalleled spectacles accompanying the
“advent of the Lord”—along with the angelic hosts, the resurrection of
the saints, people quaking before the judgment seat of Christ, and the end
of the world by means of one huge conÀagration (30.1–4). By contrast,
one of the two earliest clear references to Tertullian’s adherence to the
teachings of the New Prophecy movement (Adv. Marc. 3.24.4; cf. 1.29.4)
has quite a lot to say about the New Jerusalem.
8. See Bonnie B. Thurston, The Widows: A Woman’s Ministry in the Early

Church (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989).
As mentioned already, Tertullian had been forced to undertake the

writing of a new edition of the Adversus Marcionem because the second
edition had been pilfered. The new edition was started in 208 and
included the addition of books 4 and 5, perhaps written over an extended
period.9 This revised and expanded version enabled Tertullian to attack
Marcion’s teachings in greater detail, but also to incorporate some of
the insights and perspectives which he had gained through the New
Prophecy. The founders of the New Prophecy movement were Montanus
and two prophetesses named Maximilla and Priscilla. Each of these had
uttered prophetic sayings (logia), some in oracular form. A number of
these logia had been written down, collected, and circulated. Tertullian
possessed, or, at least had access to, one or more of these collections.
The revised version of book 3 of the Adversus Marcionem contains the
following statement:
This (is the city) with which Ezekiel was acquainted, the Apostle John
had seen, and for which the saying of the New Prophecy, which belongs
to our faith, provides evidence—having even predicted the appearance of
an image of the city, as a portent, before it will actually be made visible.
(Adv. Marc. 3.24.4; cf. Ezek 48:30–35; Rev 21:9–22:5)
Tertullian does not quote the ipsissima verba of the logion of the
New Prophecy about the New Jerusalem, but simply summarizes its con-
tent. This particular logion was one of a number of related sayings on
eschatology by Montanus. In his later, no longer extant, De ecstasi (On
Ecstasy), Tertullian defends his adherence to the New Prophecy by
claiming, “We differ in this alone that we do not permit second marriages
nor reject Montanus’ prophecy concerning the impending judgment”
(Fr. Ecst., ap. Praedestinatus, De haer. 1.26). Montanus had uttered one
or more logia speci¿cally about the last judgment, including the predic-
tion that “¿re will come and consume all the face of the earth” (ap.
Michael the Syrian, Chron. 9.3). Montanus had also referred collectively
to Pepouza and Tymion, two small cities in Phrygia as “Jerusalem” (Fr.,
Apollonius, ap. Eusebius, H.E. 5.18.2) in the belief that the New
Jerusalem would descend “out of heaven” (Rev 3:12; 21:10) between
these two settlements.10 Priscilla or, more likely a later Montanist proph-
etess named Quintilla, was even more explicit about the location of the
9. See Barnes, Tertullian, 326–28.

10. See William Tabbernee, “Portals of the New Jerusalem: The Discovery of
Pepouza and Tymion,” JECS 11 (2003): 421–41; William Tabbernee and Peter
Lampe, Pepouza and Tymion: The Discovery and Archaeological Exploration of a
Lost Ancient City and an Imperial Estate (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2008).
future New Jerusalem at or near Pepouza (ap. Epiphanius, Pan. 49.1–3).

Maximilla predicted imminent wars, anarchy, and the synteleia (“coming
together of last things”) (ap. Eusebius, H.E. 5.16.8; ap. Epiphanius, Pan.
48.2.6).
Tertullian gives no hint concerning whether he believed that the New
Jerusalem would ultimately descend out of heaven in Phrygia. He took
quite literally, however, the prediction about the symbolic precursor
of the New Jerusalem suspended in the sky before its actual descent.
According to Tertullian, this had recently been ful¿lled in Judaea—
attested by unspeci¿ed non-Christian witnesses who claimed to have
seen the image of the heavenly city for forty consecutive mornings (Adv.
Marc. 3.24.4).
The Millennium
More important to Tertullian than the New Jerusalem’s time of appear-
ance or its precise location was its function. According to Tertullian’s
reworked Adv. Marc. 3.24, the New Jerusalem is the “heavenly” city into
which the (martyred) saints will be welcomed at their resurrection and
where they will receive an abundance of spiritual blessings to make up
for all that they had suffered or lost in the present age. The New Jerusa-
lem, and the earthly/heavenly kingdom it encompassed, would last for a
thousand years and enable its residents to experience proleptically the
reality that their citizenship is in heaven (cf. Phil 3:20), even though they
had not yet been transported to the celestial realm itself. In the meantime,
they would be nurtured and comforted in the “Jerusalem from above”
which the Apostle Paul described as “our mother” (cf. Gal 4:26). During
this millennium all the rest of the deceased Christians would be raised,
earlier or later depending upon the merits they had attained (Adv. Marc.
3.24.6). The ¿ery destruction of the world would also occur at the end of
the thousand years. At that time, the righteous would be changed in an
instant, their bodies transformed into angelic substance with an incor-
ruptible nature, and, ¿nally, transported to the heavenly kingdom.
How much Tertullian had said about the millennial kingdom and the
New Jerusalem in previous versions of the Adversus Marcionem is not
clear. Tertullian had written an earlier treatise titled De spe ¿delium (On
the Hope of the Faithful). In that (also now lost) work, Tertullian made
the case that the restoration of Judaea and Israel, predicted in various
passages in the Hebrew Scriptures, should be interpreted allegorically as
applying to Christ and the Church (Adv. Marc. 3.24.2). Jerome (ca. 347–
419) considered this work also to have espoused millennialism (Vir. ill.
18). Jerome’s view, however, may simply be based on what Tertullian
says in Adv. Marc. 3.24. While some of Adv. Marc. 3.24.3–6 may also
have been contained in the De spe ¿delium, Tertullian does not actually
say that it was. In either case, the main source of Tertullian’s chiliasm
must be Rev 20:1–15. Whether or not Montanus, Maximilla, and Priscilla
were also chiliasts and whether their logia inÀuenced Tertullian on the
issue of a millennial reign on earth before the end of the world remains
an open question.11 Tertullian could have been a chiliast regardless of
whether the founders of Montanism and/or their followers elsewhere in
the Roman Empire were as well.
“Abraham’s Bosom”
Marcion’s scriptures consisted of a single gospel (an abridged version
of Luke) and ten epistles of St. Paul (omitting the Pastorals and also
Hebrews). Books 4 and 5 of the Adversus Marcionem are Tertullian’s
responses respectively to Marcion’s use of Luke’s Gospel and the
Pauline Epistles. His responses include details on issues related to the
“world to come.”
Although he had already referred brieÀy to the story of Lazarus and
the rich man in Hades (e.g., De idol. 13.4), Tertullian’s most extensive
explication of Luke 16:19–21 occurs in Adv. Marc. 4.34.10–17. There
Tertullian argues that “Abraham’s Bosom” is a speci¿c place, separated
from the rest of hell by a wide gulf (4.34.11–12) but within the lower
regions (Hades). It is “higher” than hell but not as high as heaven
(4.34.13). It is the place prepared by God to receive the souls of the
departed “righteous,” Abraham’s true children (4.34.12).
Paradise (View Two)

Tertullian’s description of “Abraham’s Bosom” as a temporary lodging
place for the souls of the faithful, where they await the resurrection in
comfort and gain a foretaste of heaven (Adv. Marc. 4.34.10–17), is simi-
lar to his earlier description of Paradise. A profound change has occurred,
however, in Tertullian’s eschatological geography between the time he
formulated his earlier understanding of Paradise and his later (New
Prophecy-inÀuenced) thoughts on the subject. This is seen perhaps most
clearly in his De resurrectione carnis, the book written ca. 210/11 in
ful¿llment of the promise made in De carn. Chris. 15.2, where he states
strongly what he has now come to believe on two related topics. Firstly,
11. For example, contrast D. H. Williams, “The Origins of the Montanist

Movement: A Sociological Analysis,” Religion 19 (1989): 331–51, with Charles E.
Hill, “The Marriage of Montanism and Millennialism,” StPatr 26 (1993): 140–46;
cf. Hill, Regnum Caelorum: Patterns of Millennial Thought in Early Christianity
(2d ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), 143–59.
upon death one does not immediately dwell in the presence of Christ (De
res. carn. 43.4a). Secondly, martyrdom is the only exception to this rule,
as martyrs are lodged in Paradise, not in “the lower regions” (43.4b).
By 210, Tertullian had developed a cosmology in which there are
multiple places of abode for the departed. Two of these were in the
inferni (the lower regions: Hades): Hell for the wicked and “Abraham’s
Bosom” for the righteous. Paradise is no longer a special region of Hades
but a location close to and almost indistinguishable from heaven. Texts
such as Rev 6:9, where the souls of the martyrs are said to have resided
“under the altar” of God in heaven, are taken by Tertullian as proof that
Paradise was located there (De an. 55.4). This location was reinforced in
Tertullian’s mind by the Passio Perpetuae et Felicitatis (The Passion of
Perpetua and Felicitas). The graphic account of the arrest, imprison-
ment, trial, and execution of a young Carthaginian matron and some
other Christians who died on March 7 (probably) in 203 also contains a
record of some visions. One of these visions is experienced by Saturus,
one of Perpetua’s co-martyrs. In that vision, Saturus and Perpetua, after
their death and the “shedding of their Àesh,” are carried by angels upward
beyond the world to a large open space which turns out to be a huge
garden (Pass. Perp. 11.2–6). There they meet four, very welcoming,
angels and some of the martyrs who had preceded them from the same
persecution (11.7–9), before going on to greet the Lord (11.10–12.5).
Perpetua’s own ¿rst vision (Pass. Perp. 4.3–9) also refers to an
immense garden which Tertullian (De an. 55.4) rightly takes to be
intended to represent Paradise. Perpetua, in this vision, reaches Paradise
by stepping on the head of a dragon (cf. Gen 3:15) and climbing up a
long ladder (cf. Gen 28:12). In the garden, Perpetua sees (in addition to a
shepherd, i.e., Christ) only a multitude wearing white garments, that is,
martyrs (Pass. Perp. 4.8; cf. Rev 9.10). In his De anima (On the Soul),
also written ca. 210, slightly before or contemporaneous with the De
resurrectione mortuorum (De res. carn. 17.2), Tertullian appeals to this
particular vision12 to reinforce not only that Paradise is situated close to
(if not actually in) heaven, but that only the souls of martyrs go directly
to Paradise (De an. 55.4). “The only key to Paradise is your own blood,”
Tertullian tells his readers (55.5).
12. In later sections of the account of Saturus’ vision, Perpetua and Saturus also
see the souls of deceased persons other than martyrs (13.8) and even still-alive
persons who had come to implore Perpetua and Saturus to help them (13.1–6).
Tertullian, a rhetorician intent on making his point, conveniently omits these
contradictory details.
The Corporality of the Soul

That Perpetua was able to recognize the souls of the martyrs (Pass. Perp.
8.1; cf. 11.9; 13.8) served as con¿rmation to Tertullian that among the
soul’s qualities is its “corporality.” According to Tertullian, the soul has
shape and form, as well as life and intelligence.13 Whether or not
Perpetua herself belonged to the New Prophecy movement remains a
debated issue.14 It is clear, however, that she and her co-martyrs died as
“Catholics” and were always considered as “Catholic” martyrs by main-
stream Christianity. Perhaps the most that can be said is that the original
author/editor of the Passio Perpetuae et Felicitatis appears, like
Tertullian, to have been someone inÀuenced by the New Prophecy
movement (Pass. Perp. 1.3–5; 21.11). There is no doubt, however, that
an unnamed contemporary was one of the several “second generation”
Montanist prophetesses active in Carthage, probably attending the house-
church of which Tertullian may have been the patron.15 After one parti-
cular Sunday worship service, this woman reported to Tertullian and his
fellow seniores laici (as was her practice) that, during the service, she
had been “in the spirit” and shown “a soul in bodily form.” This cor-
poreal soul was not empty and devoid of characteristics. In fact, although
soft, full of light, and the color of air, its shape was completely like that
of a human being (De an. 9.4).
The woman’s vision was written down (De an. 9.4) and taken very
seriously by Tertullian who, by this stage of his involvement with the
New Prophecy movement, deemed visions such as this one legitimate
instances of the Paraclete’s latest revelations to a church ¿nally ready to
receive the fullness of the gospel (De mon. 3.1). This is not to say,
however, that for Tertullian the “new revelations” were the sole source of
his theology and eschatology. He concludes this particular chapter of the
De anima by alluding to 2 Cor 12:2–4, Luke 16:23–24, and Rev 6:9–10.
Taking for granted that in the passage from Corinthians, Paul is talking
about himself being “caught up to the third heaven/Paradise” and
presuming that he there “heard and saw the Lord,” Tertullian argues that
13. Tertullian had argued some of this in a second treatise directed at Hermogenes.
That treatise, like so many of his works, is now lost. Titled De census animae (On the
Origin of the Soul), it was written before his most comprehensive treatise on the soul,
the De anima (1.1). The latter summarizes some of the earlier treatise’s main points
(22.2) but emphasizes the corporeal nature of the soul against all views to the contrary.
14. The case for this has been argued most recently by Rex D. Butler, The New
Prophecy and “New Visions”: Evidence of Montanism in the Passion of Perpetua
and Felicitas (PatrMS 18; Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press,
2006).
15. Tabbernee, Fake Prophecy, 131.
this proves that souls have their own kind of “ears” and “eye” (De an.
9.8). Similarly, from the story of Lazarus and the rich man, Tertullian
concludes that the soul of the rich man in Hades had a “tongue,” Lazarus
had a “¿nger,” and Abraham had a “bosom” (9.8; cf. De res. carn.
17.2)—omitting to point out, for rhetorical reasons, that elsewhere he has
gone to great lengths to argue that “Abraham’s Bosom” should be
considered the name of the whole of the particular region of Hades where
the souls of the faithful (apart from the martyrs) are kept until the
resurrection. Finally, from the account in Rev 6:9–10 of the souls of the
martyrs “under the altar” calling out to the Lord for the avenging of their
shed blood, Tertullian sees further evidence that souls have the kinds of
physical attributes as those which may be extrapolated from 2 Cor 12:2–
4 and Luke 16:23–24.
Marriage and the “Age of the Paraclete”

One of Tertullian’s most obviously New Prophecy-inÀuenced books is
his De monogamia (On Marriage), written ca. 210/11. Earlier, Tertullian
merely preferred his wife to remain unmarried after his death (Ad. ux.
1.7.4) but permitted remarriage—as long as it was “in the Lord” (Ad ux.
2.1.2–4; 2.2.3–5; cf. 1 Cor 7:28–29). Following his involvement with the
New Prophecy movement, however, he came to take a strong position
against remarriage. This more stringent view was based on the logia of
Montanus, Maximilla, and Priscilla on the topic (De iei. 1.3; Adv. Marc.
1.29.4; cf. Fr. Ecst., ap. Praedestinatus, De haer. 1.26; Fr., Apollonius,
ap. Eusebius, H.E. 5.18.2). These “sayings,” in the opinion of Tertullian,
conveyed the latest revelation of the Holy Spirit (Paraclete) on the
subject.
Through the New Prophecy, the “Montanists” believed, a new “era”
or “dispensation” had been inaugurated (De virg. vel. 1.3–7). The “age
of the Paraclete” superseded that of “the Father” and even that “of the
Son,” clarifying, once and for all, what God’s will was on matters such
as permanent monogamy. During earlier eras, God had been prepared
to be more lax, allowing polygamy among the Hebrew patriarchs and
remarriage (under certain conditions) for Christians. None of this,
however, was what God had intended for humanity in the beginning
(Gen. 2:24). In the present era, the Paraclete had come to restore the
ethical precepts to their original intention, even if this appeared to be a
change in what had been allowed previously.
Tertullian’s very ¿rst extant explicit reference to his own acceptance
of the New Prophecy and the Montanist view of the role of the Paraclete
is made in the context of his discussion of marriage and remarriage in
book 1 of the ¿nal edition of the Adversus Marcionem:
Now if at this present time a limit of marrying is being imposed, as for

example, among us, a spiritual reckoning decreed by the Paraclete is
defended, prescribing a single matrimony in the faith, it will be his to
tighten the limit who had formerly loosened it. (Adv. Marc. 1.29.4)
The kind of monogamy mandated by the discipline revealed by the
Paraclete for Christians living in the present age is not merely the oppo-
site of bigamy or polygamy. It is also the opposite of digamy. Remarriage,
even if allowed legally after the death of one’s spouse, is forbidden by
the Paraclete’s new method of spiritual counting. Whether a person had
multiple spouses concurrently or successively is irrelevant. The number
is wrong because it is more than one! Remarriage is “adultery-in-series”
(De mon. 4.3; cf. De exh. cast. 4.5–6); it is a “species of fornication”
(De exh. cast. 9.1).
“The World to Come”

In making his Montanist-inÀuenced case against remarriage after the
death of one’s spouse, Tertullian makes some interesting observations in
the De monogamia concerning life in the world to come. He reiterates his
earlier view that there will be no resumption of sexual relations between
husband and wife in the afterlife (De mon. 10.7, cf. Ad ux. 1.1.2–6). This,
however, is no reason, argues Tertullian, for people not to remain bound
to their departed spouses. In fact, because of their belief in the resurrec-
tion of the dead, they should pray that the souls of their beloved departed
may have refreshment in their intermediate state and look forward to
their future reunion (De mon. 10.5–8).
Tertullian has no doubt that, in the world to come, husbands and wives
will recognize each other, have a spiritual (rather than physical) relation-
ship, and have their memories intact (De mon. 10.8). Being in the
presence of God does not exclude being in the presence of each other.
Husbands and wives will not be separated by God in the world to come,
just as God (as recently revealed by the Paraclete) demands that they not
be separated during their life on earth (De mon. 10.9). The kind of
“mansion” received in the afterlife (cf. John 14:2) depends upon the
“wages” earned in this life (10.9).
Tertullian’s Use of Paul

Tertullian was a rhetorician rather than an exegete or a systematic theolo-
gian. Although normally referred to as such, his extant works are not so
much “treatises” but “polemics.” In arguing his case against various
“heretics” or for topics such as the resurrection of the dead, Tertullian
utilized whatever sources he deemed most advantageous for winning the
argument. These ranged from illustrations contained in classical litera-

ture to quotations from, or allusions to, speci¿c texts in the Hebrew Bible
and the (not-yet-canonical) Christian Scriptures. After his involvement
with the New Prophecy movement, his sources, as we have seen, also
included the sayings of the founding Montanist prophets and prophet-
esses, as well as contemporary ones in Carthage.
The Montanists were particularly interested in the book of Revelation
and derived much of their eschatology from that early Christian apoca-
lypse. As pointed out already, the book of Revelation certainly inÀu-
enced the later Tertullian. In some instances, such as on the nature,
location, and inhabitants of Paradise, it even caused him to change his
earlier views. The most important and consistent source for Tertullian’s
eschatology, however, was the Pauline corpus.
Tertullian’s most comprehensive use of Pauline material in defense
of various aspects of his fully developed eschatology are to be found
in book 5 of the Adversus Marcionem and in the De resurrectione carnis.
In the former, he systematically discusses each of the ten Pauline
Epistles that comprised the second part of the Marcionite scriptures,
commenting, where applicable, on topics related to the world to come.
He starts with Galatians (Adv. Marc. 5.2–4), presumably the ¿rst epistle
in Marcion’s Bible, a copy of which Tertullian had in front of him (e.g.,
5.13.4; cf. 5.14.5). In the section of the De resurrectione carnis dealing
speci¿cally with relevant Pauline material (De res. carn. 23–24; 40–54),
Tertullian starts with Colossians (De res. carn. 23.1–6). Given the count-
less references in Tertullian’s works to Pauline passages, it is impossible
to treat them all here. It may be useful, however, to give a few examples
of how Tertullian utilizes texts from 1 and 2 Corinthians, 1 and 2 Thessa-
lonians, Galatians, and Romans—his primary Pauline sources for “the
world to come.”
First and Second Corinthians

In 1 Cor 7:31 Paul declares that “the present form of the world is passing
away.” Tertullian, like Paul, uses this text to remind people to live
accordingly (e.g., De cul. fem. 2.9.6; De pud. 16.19) but also employs it
to stress the ¿nality of the world’s destruction (De res. carn. 5.4–5).
Not surprising, 1 Cor 15 plays the most dominant role in Tertullian’s
eschatology. He refers repeatedly to the numerous topics related to the
resurrection in this chapter: there is a crucial connection between the
bodily resurrection of Christ and the “resurrection of the dead” (1 Cor
15:12–23, 52; see, e.g., De res. carn. 48.1–8; cf. Adv. Marc. 3.8.7; 5.9.1–
10). All the dead will be raised, in a given order of priority, at the time
of Christ’s “coming” (15:22–24, 35–41; see, e.g., Adv. Marc. 3.24.6;
De res. carn. 48.10). Ultimate transformation will occur when the resur-
rected, yet perishable, body takes on imperishability and immortality
(15:50–56; see, e.g., Ad ux. 1.7.1–2; Adv. Marc. 5.10.14–15; De res.
carn. 42.11–13) because “Àesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of
God” (15:50; see, e.g., Adv. Marc. 5.10.14; De res. carn. 50.1–6).
Tertullian points out that denial of bodily resurrection had been
prevalent among heretics even from Paul’s time (1 Cor 15:12; see De
prae. haer. 33.3; cf. Adv. Marc. 5.9.2–3). Baptizing “on behalf of the
dead” was a Pauline argument in favor of the ¿rst-century belief that
Christians would, indeed, be raised bodily (1 Cor 15:29). This argument
was repeated by Tertullian (e.g., De res. carn. 48.11; Adv. Marc. 5.10.1).
He admitted, however, that he did not know the precise details of that
earlier practice, although, whatever it was, it must have had to do
speci¿cally with the body (Adv. Marc. 5.10.2).
First Corinthians 15 also provided Tertullian with scriptural warrant
for Christ’s (second) coming (15:23) and his reign (on earth) until, at
“the end,” all enemies, including the rulers of the present world, are
destroyed (15:24–28; cf. Adv. Marc. 5.9.6; Adv. Prax. 4.2). At that time,
even death will be “swallowed up in victory” (15:54; cf. Adv. Marc.
5.10.16; De res. carn. 51.5.7).
First Corinthians 15:40–41 refers to the different “glories” of heavenly
and earthly “bodies” (including the sun, moon, and stars). The next
words read: “So it is with the resurrection of the dead” (15:42a).
Tertullian takes this statement, not as the start of a new section, but as
the conclusion of the section on “different glories” and as the answer to
why there are so many mansions in the Father’s house, prepared by
Christ for the saints (John 14:2–3). According to Tertullian’s exegesis of
1 Cor 15:40–42a, Christians, especially martyrs, will be rewarded in the
world to come differently on the basis of what they have accomplished
for Christ on earth (Scorp. 6.7; cf. De mon. 10.9).
Tertullian argues from 2 Cor 5:2–10 that Christians have an eternal
house in heaven, namely, their incorruptible “dwelling” resulting from
the transformation of the resurrected bodies after they have appeared
before the judgment seat of Christ (e.g., Adv. Marc. 5.12.1–5). At least
by the time he came to write the De resurrectione carnis, Tertullian no
longer interpreted 2 Cor 5:6–8 as indicating that to be “away from
the body” is to be “at home with the Lord” immediately (De res carn.
43.4).16
16. See also Hill, Regnum Caelorem, 30 and 30 n. 26.

To make his point that the souls of the deceased have “physical”
characteristics such as “ears” and “eyes” (see above), Tertullian alludes
to 2 Cor 12:2–4 to claim that Paul heard and saw the Lord in Paradise
(De an. 9.8)—even though the text itself does not actually say so.
First and Second Thessalonians

Tertullian cites 1 Thess 1:10, 2:19, and 3:13 in con¿rmation of the
coming of “our Lord Jesus with all his saints” (e.g., De res. carn. 24.1–
2). Tertullian’s eschatology is also very much inÀuenced by 1 Thess
4:13–5:11. In that passage, Paul reassures his readers that their deceased
loved ones will not be disadvantaged at the “coming of the Lord.” At
“the archangel’s call and with the sound of God’s trumpet,” Christ “will
descend from the heaven.” The “dead in Christ” will be the ¿rst to rise
and those still alive will be next, “caught up in the clouds together with
them to meet the Lord in the air” to “be with the Lord forever” (1 Thess
4:15–17; cf. De res. carn. 24.1–20; 41.6–7).
Tertullian’s chiliasm forced him to see a distinction between the
descent of Christ to establish the millennial kingdom and his coming “in
the clouds.” The latter was deemed by Tertullian as occurring at the end
of the millennium, after the ¿nal judgment. Consequently, he had to
interpret 1 Thess 4:16–17, despite its reference to the descent of Christ
out of heaven, more as an ascent and as the means of the Christians’
“ascension” to Paradise/ Heaven after the world had been destroyed. To
justify this, Tertullian linked 1 Thess 4:16–17 not only with Dan 7:13,
but with texts such as Isa 40:8 and Amos 9:6 (Adv. Marc. 3.24.11;
4.10.12–13; 5.15.4).
First Thessalonians 4:16 states that at the coming of Christ, the “dead
in Christ shall rise ¿rst.” This text must also have been problematic to
Tertullian’s chiliastic cosmology. If the resurrection occurs at the end of
the millennial reign of Christ, then there is a theoretical conÀict with the
view that the dead will be raised in stages throughout the millennium,
depending upon their worthiness (Adv. Marc. 3.24.6; De res. carn. 48.10;
cf. De an. 58.8). Tertullian resolved the matter in his own mind by bor-
rowing the phrase “¿rst resurrection” from Rev 20:5–6 (e.g., see De res.
carn. 25.2). The “¿rst resurrection” commences with the martyred saints
who will reign with Christ. At the “¿nal and general resurrection” all of
humanity will be judged “from the books” (De res. carn. 25.2; cf. Rev
20:12–14). Those judged to be faithful will escape a “second death”
(cf. Rev 20:14; 21:8) and “meet the Lord in the air,” along with those
who are still alive (1 Thess 5:17). The latter will also be instantaneously
transformed (Adv. Marc. 5.20.7) and with the other faithful, spend
eternity with the Lord (1 Thess 5:17).
As noted earlier, Tertullian, after being inÀuenced by the New

Prophecy, is convinced that no one, except martyrs, enters Christ’s/
God’s presence until after the ¿nal judgment. Tertullian in De an. 55.3
draws on 1 Thess 4:16 to claim that no one enters Paradise/Heaven “until
the trumpet sounds and God commands it.” In De res. carn. 24.7, he uses
the same text to argue that the “trumpet of God” may be equated with the
gospel, calling people to salvation (cf. 1 Thess 5:9). In De res. carn.
47.17–18, Tertullian quotes Paul’s prayer that the Thessalonians’ “spirit
and soul and body be kept sound and blameless at the coming of our
Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Thess 5:23).
Tertullian also draws heavily on 2 Thessalonians. He complains in
Adv. Marc. 5.16.1–2 that Marcion has expunged the references to “Àam-
ing ¿re” from 2 Thess 1:5–8. That text refers to the righteous justice
meted out by God “when the Lord Jesus is revealed from heaven with his
mighty angels in Àaming ¿re, inÀicting vengeance on those who do not
know God and on those who do not obey the Gospel of our Lord Jesus
Christ.” As in the case of other Pauline texts, the later Tertullian reads 2
Thess 2:1–12 through the lens of Johannine literature. The Day of the
Lord (cf. 1 Thess 5:2) is not yet here and will not come until Satan’s
agent, the Antichrist, is revealed and is defeated by the coming of Christ
(Adv. Marc. 5.16.5–7). The Roman Empire is the only thing standing in
the way of the rise to power of the Antichrist, but the Empire will fall,
just as earlier empires have fallen (De res. carn. 24.13–20).
Galatians
In addition to citing Gal 4:26 to refer to the New Jerusalem as “our
mother from above” (Adv. Marc. 3.24.4), Tertullian utilizes a number of
other passages from Galatians from which he draws conclusions about
the world to come. For example, Tertullian, on the authority of Paul,
warns that there are certain “works of the Àesh” which “will not inherit
the kingdom of God” (Gal 5:19–21; De res. carn. 49.1–13). Tertullian is
careful to distinguish, however, between the works which have been
committed by the “Àesh” and the Àesh itself—which once forgiven at the
¿nal judgment and transformed can inherit the kingdom (Adv. Marc.
5.10.11–15; cf. De res. carn. 45.1–15).
Romans
Tertullian is convinced that not even the “Holy Land” will be exempt
from the total destruction of the world which is to come to pass on the
Day of Judgment. Romans 2:28–29 provides Tertullian with the herme-
neutical key to interpret matters relating to Judaea and Jews spiritually
rather than literally (De res. carn. 26.10–14; cf. Adv. Marc. 3.24.2). In
Rom 6:1–11, Paul points out that all who are united with Christ in bap-
tism will be raised as Christ himself was raised from the dead. Tertullian
(as does Paul) utilizes this text to call on Christians to lead moral lives in
the certain hope of their own resurrection (De pud. 17.4–8). Tertullian
makes a similar appeal on the basis of Rom 8:2–13, especially v. 11: “If
the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who
raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also
through his Spirit which dwells in you” (De res. carn. 46.5).
Invariably, Tertullian places the emphasis on the future dimension
of the transformation of the Christian through the death and resurrection
of Christ, a transformation which culminates in the transformation of
their bodies after the ¿nal judgment. It is these transformed, angel-like
bodies which Tertullian takes to be intended by Paul when he implores
Christians to present them to God “as a living sacri¿ce” in a continuous
act of “spiritual worship” (Rom 12:1; De res. carn. 47.16).
Conclusion
Tertullian’s mature, New Prophecy-inÀuenced eschatology may be sum-
marized as follows: God’s dealing with humanity is based on a number
of “eras” (or “dispensations”). The most recent of these is the “age of the
Paraclete.” This current era is the period of time when, through the
visions and sayings of the New Prophecy, the Holy Spirit (Paraclete) has
¿nally revealed to Christians exactly what is expected of them to live
strictly in accordance with God’s highest requirements. One of the ways
in which Christians are able to accomplish this is to keep before them the
promises made to them in Scripture about the world to come, when they
will be ultimately in the presence of the Lord forever. That hope of
eternal bliss, however, will not be realized for a very long time as a
number of events are to occur ¿rst. Christians, nonetheless, need not be
discouraged if they concentrate on the certainty of the resurrection of the
dead. All human beings will, at the appropriate time, be raised in order to
be judged at the judgment seat of Christ.
Meanwhile, the souls of dead reside in one of three temporary loca-
tions: Paradise for the martyrs; “Abraham’s Bosom” for other faithful
Christians; and hell for the wicked. These souls are corporeal, with a
recognizable “human” form and with the capacity to see, hear, speak, and
taste. Separated from their bodies, they are no longer all they used to be,
but they will be restored to their former soul/body unity on the day of
their resurrection so that works (both good and evil) committed in the
Àesh may be judged accordingly.
Exactly when this resurrection will occur is known only to God, but
there are signs for which Christians should look. One of these signs is the
fall of the Roman Empire that, up to this point, has prevented the coming
to power of the Antichrist, who is the devil’s agent. Christ, however, will
return to earth to defeat the Antichrist and Satan, and to rule an earthly
millennial kingdom. To participate in this reign, the martyrs will rise ¿rst
and reside in the New Jerusalem which will come down out of heaven,
prepared especially for them. The “¿rst resurrection” continues through-
out the thousand years of Christ’s millennial kingdom. Those with
greater merit will rise earlier rather than later so that they have a longer
period of time to enjoy the New Jerusalem in the presence of the Lord.
By the end of the millennium, all the dead will have been resurrected in
time for the Last Judgment.
The martyrs will participate in the judging of their persecutors, and all
the wicked will be assigned permanently to hell, along with the devil and
the devil’s angels. The world will be totally destroyed by an immense
¿re. The resurrected bodies of those judged to have been faithful and
righteous will, at that time, be transformed into an incorruptible nature
like that of (but not exactly the same as) the angels. They will meet
Christ in the clouds, soaring upward to the celestial realm, led by Christ
through the gate of heaven. There they will live forever with the Lord,
claiming their promised position as citizens of heaven.
In the world to come, there will be relationships with others (including
spouses), although these will be spiritual, not sexual relationships. The
many and varied mansions prepared for them will be awarded to the
saints on the basis of merit, but all Christians will be together with the
one God, worshipping and singing hymns of thanks eternally, in the
world to come.
HIS EMINENCE IMMINENT:
TERTULLIAN’S TAKE ON PAULINE ESCHATOLOGY
Ben Witherington, III
It has become commonplace in some circles that the “imminent” escha-

tology of the earliest Christians died on the vine somewhere in the
middle of the second century C.E. (see, e.g., the transmutation of apoca-
lyptic thinking in The Shepherd of Hermas), and this despite the ongoing
major inÀuence of a collection of Pauline Letters circulating in Christian
churches long before there was a canon of twenty-seven New Testament
books. However conventional this wisdom may be, the Montanist move-
ment gives the lie to this suggestion. The very fact that an orthodox
thinker like Tertullian could be persuaded to be a part of the “New
Prophecy” movement which arose in Phrygia shows that things eschato-
logical were still on the front burner in many Christian quarters of the
Empire, including in Africa and Roman provinces in the country we now
call Turkey.
From the outset I will take for granted that the very ¿ne essay by
William Tabbernee on Tertullian in this volume has laid out more or less
correctly what Tertullian’s views were on “the end of all things.” It will
be my task to compare and contrast Tertullian’s views with those of the
Apostle to the Gentiles. We may start with the observation that it is
evident on even a cursory examination of Tertullian’s work that there
was a deep and abiding impact of Paul’s eschatological teaching on
Tertullian. One does not write at least two major treatises defending the
notion of the resurrection of the body and drawing again and again on
1 Cor 15 unless Pauline thought has penetrated deeply into one’s world-
view. At the same time, Tertullian is also a creative and original thinker,
whether or not we wish to call him a systematic theologian,1 not a slavish
imitator of anyone, as we shall now see.
1. From which Tabbernee demurs. I do not quite agree with the notion that
we should simply see Tertullian as a brilliant rhetorician instead of being a system-
atic thinker or exegete. While the modern phrase “systematic theologian” may be
The Soul of the Matter

As I have argued elsewhere,2 Paul does not simply baptize Greco-Roman
body/soul dualism and call it good. His anthropological thinking is more
Semitic than that. Paul does not in fact af¿rm the Greco-Roman idea of
the “immortal soul” nor the notion that Hades is where the “soul” goes
when it dies, unless one is a martyr or “special” in some sense. These
ideas can be predicated of Tertullian, but not Paul on two counts. First,
for Paul, there is the body, there is the non-material part of the person,
sometimes called the person’s spirit, and there is life breath (psychƝ
means this in Paul, it does not mean “soul”). Paul af¿rms a limited dual-
ism such that the person can go and be with the Lord in heaven at death,
but will once again ¿nd themselves in a body permanently when Christ
returns and the dead in Christ are raised. Second, perhaps surprisingly,
Paul has next to nothing to say about the theological notion of hell, nor
does he really ever mention Hades. His sole focus in any case is on the
afterlife of his converts, the Christians. On the one hand he stresses that
for all Christians “to be absent from the body is to be present with the
Lord” (2 Cor 5); on the other hand, he stresses that even Christians will
not enter the ¿nal Kingdom of God on earth in their present earthly
condition—they will need a resurrection body (1 Cor 15). Especially
clear is the fact that Paul would not have approved of the notion that
some Christians merit closer company with God than others, such that
the martyrs may well be in heaven with Christ, but all other Christians
are in some sort of pleasant abode in Hades called Paradise. No indeed.
For Paul, as for other early Jews, Paradise is a term for heaven or a
particular level in heaven (see Luke 23:43).
And in the End…

Another interesting difference between Paul and Tertullian when it
comes to eschatology is the way the two thinkers see the afterlife resolv-
ing. Paul, on the one hand, is clear enough that not everyone, but only
the dead in Christ will rise when Christ returns, and that there will be a
process of Christ ruling on earth until all of his enemies are banished. In
pressing things too far, it will not do to underestimate the theological and logical
prowess of Tertullian when it comes to major theological ideas.
2. See, for example, my Paul’s Narrative Thought World: The Tapestry of
Tragedy and Triumph (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 1994), and my
ConÀict and Community in Corinth: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary on 1 and 2
Corinthians (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996).
fact, in 1 Cor 15, Paul says nothing about when the earth will give up the
rest of its dead, unless the mention of death being the last enemy to be
conquered refers to the raising of all the rest of the dead at the end of the
period of Christ’s reigning and before he turns the Kingdom back over to
the Father. Tertullian, as can be seen in Tabbernee’s essay, seems to
af¿rm a general resurrection of the dead at Christ’s return, and surpris-
ingly, considering how strongly he af¿rms resurrection, he seems to
think that the human story ends in a celestial rather than a terrestrial
locale. By this I mean that unlike Paul who sees the New Jerusalem
coming down to earth and staying there (see also Rev 21–22), Tertullian
seems to suggest that after the resurrection and the Final Judgment
Christians climb back up the stairway to heaven with Christ and rule
from above. This leads Tertullian to a very odd, almost Dispensationalist
reading of 1 Thess 4:13–18.
The Body of Evidence

Tertullian can perhaps be forgiven for some of his mis-readings of Paul
because the apostle does not always spin out all the implications of his
ideas as clearly as one might want. Take for instance the issue of the
pneumatikon soma referred to in 1 Cor 15. This, as it turns out, does not
mean a body made up of some ethereal substance called “spirit,” though
various exegetes through the ages have taken it that way,3 any more than
psychikon soma refers to a “soulish body.” The latter means a body
animated by life breath, the former means a body suffused with and
animated by the Holy Spirit. Tertullian may be forgiven for misreading
Paul at this point, and he is in good company in doing so.
But why is it so important that salvation involves bodies at the end of
all things? Tertullian’s answer would seem to be much the same as
Paul’s, namely, that God is a God of all creation, and he intends to
reclaim all that he originally made. It may be doubted, however, that
Paul would have agreed with Tertullian that God intends to annihilate the
present realm, whose “form is passing away” and replace it with a better
and more permanent realm. Restoration and renewal rather than replace-
ment seems to have been the apostle’s assumption.
Finally, a little something should be said about the asceticism of
Tertullian as a Montanist and Paul’s view of such matters. There can be
no doubt that Tertullian’s views evolved over time on this matter, and
3. See the detailed and very interesting discussion in Dale B. Martin, The
Corinthian Body (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999).


AFTERWORD:
TERTULLIAN AND PAULINE STUDIES
Todd D. Still
Why should Pauline scholars trouble with Tertullian? This is far from a
rhetorical question. Truth be told, Tertullian is not particularly well
regarded in most Pauline circles. He has a (well-deserved?) reputation as
a misogynist1 and supersessionist,2 and such perceptions, even when they
are hackneyed and stereotypical, have not endeared the Carthaginian
theologian to any number of erstwhile Paulinists and have arguably
discouraged many Neutestamentlers from learning more about the life
and work of the late second- and early third-century North African theo-
logian, apologist, and rhetor known to most people simply as Tertullian.3
As it happens, Paul has a checkered reputation himself among more than
his fair share of interpreters, both past and present, and has not escaped
being criticized as a prideful, power-hungry, patriarchal prude who
perverted Judaism on the one hand and Jesus on the other.4
1. See, e.g., Pauline Nigh Hogan, “Paul and Women in Second-Century Christi-
anity,” in Paul and the Second Century (ed. Michael F. Bird and Joseph R. Dodson;
LNTS 412; London: T&T Clark International, 2011), 226–43 (on 242 n. 57).
2. Calvin J. Roetzel (“Paul in the Second Century,” in The Cambridge
Companion to St. Paul [ed. James D. G. Dunn; Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2003], 227–41 [236]) notes that Tertullian referred to the “stupid obduracy of
the Jews” (Adv. Marc. 5.20) and concludes: “Thus Tertullian oddly presented a Paul
who was rooted in the religion of the Old Testament but who repudiated his native
Judaism.”
3. William Tabbernee sets forth “Tertullian’s” full name at the outset of his essay
in this volume—Quintus Septimius Florens Tertullianus. The learned sophistication
of the complex conversation that occurs among scholars of Tertullian, as seen in this
volume, might also serve as a something of a deterrent even for interested Paulinists!
For example, the painstaking distinctions some of our contributors can make
between Tertullian’s pre-Montanist and Montanist careers have been all but lost on
this editor!
4. See further Todd D. Still, “Paul: An Appealing and/or Appalling Apostle,”
ExpTim 114 (2003): 111–18.
STILL Afterword 283
Misery may love company, but is this suf¿cient reason for studying
this pair in tandem? I would have thought not, nor is the fact that “recep-
tion history” is, in the words of Michael F. Bird, “one of the hip things
happening in biblical studies at the moment” (see p. 16, above). That
Paul and Tertullian were both ancient, occasional, pastoral theologians
and writers of considerable intelligence, rhetorical prowess, biblical
knowledge, and uncommon commitment, however, does make for an
interesting pairing, as the essays in this volume ably and amply demon-
strate.
Furthermore, beyond intellectual curiosity and academic intrigue, a
primary reason that Pauline scholars do well to read and to reÀect upon
Tertullian is the unassailable fact that he read and reÀected upon Paul.5
More than an oft-repeated claim that the Apostle Paul was “the” and
“his” apostle, Tertullian’s extant literary corpus demonstrates how
deeply indebted he was to Paul’s life, letters, and legacy. “Throughout all
his literary twists and turns, the single trail of breadcrumbs in his works
is his use of Scripture and especially his use of Paul” (so David E.
Wilhite in the “Introduction” above). Indeed, as Stephen Cooper has
noted in his contribution to the present volume (p. 246), “Tertullian’s
extensive engagement in Adversus Marcionem with the Corpus Paulinum
stands at the beginning of the history of Latin Christianity’s exegeti-
cal affair with its favorite apostle.”6 Contemporary Pauline scholars, as
they seek to plumb the various depths of the multifaceted apostle, can
ill afford to dismiss out of hand one of his earliest, most inÀuential inter-
preters, regardless of their academic assessment of Tertullian’s interpre-
tive competence.
In fact, in reading and editing the excellent essays and responses that
comprise this volume, I have been impressed time and again by how
relevant so many of the topics taken up (or, at least, touched upon) in this
work actually are to the ongoing dialog regarding Paul and his life and
work. A truncated, ten-fold list of particular interest to Paulinists might
include the following: Christology; ecclesiology; Scripture; Israel;
continuity/discontinuity in Paul’s thought relative to Scripture and Israel;
(the perceived center of) Pauline theology; Greco-Roman rhetoric and
5. Roetzel (“Paul in the Second Century,” 235) remarks: “Tertullian drew a

portrait of Paul which was nuanced and complex, deeply rooted in the Pauline letters
and fully at home in the Graeco-Roman world.”
6. Roetzel (ibid., 237) posits, “While he depended on the works of Irenaeus,
Tertullian’s argument was fuller and more complex, and he was able more than any
other to enlist Paul in the struggle against Marcion and Valentinus and to secure
Paul’s canonical status.”
philosophy as evidenced in the apostle’s Letters; Roman imperialism

and militarism; women’s roles in the ancient world and early church;
and poverty and wealth in the “Pauline churches.”7 Even, as it turns out,
that Jerusalem has no small amount in common with Athens, this col-
laborative work demonstrates that Pauline and Patristics scholars share
any number of common interests and concerns that might be usefully
explored and elaborated upon for the common good of Early Christian
Studies, if not also for the church and contemporary culture writ large.
Simply and succinctly stated, Pauline scholars should trouble themselves
to study the works of Tertullian and his interpreters because it is worth
the work and the trouble. Reading Tertullian reading Paul enables one to
become a more sympathetic, strategic, and skilled reader of the apostle
whom Tertullian (and not a few others have) loved.
7. This is not, of course, the place to survey the ¿eld of Pauline Studies. See,
however, the serviceable and insightful volume by David G. Horrell, An Introduc-
tion to the Study of Paul (2d ed.; London: T&T Clark International, 2006). See now
also Stephen Westerholm, ed., The Blackwell Companion to Paul (Chichester:
Wiley-Blackwell, 2011).
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Aleith, Eva. Paulusverständnis in der alten Kirche. Berlin: Töpelmann, 1937.

Ash, James. “The Decline of Ecstatic Prophecy in the Church,” TS 37 (1976): 27–52.
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INDEXES
INDEX OF REFERENCES
HEBREW BIBLE/ Deuteronomy 53:1 96

OLD TESTAMENT 25:4 81, 90 57:15 LXX 52
Genesis 30:11–14 199 61:13 56
1 8 66:20 191
1:2 52, 175 Joshua
1:6–7 175 22:17–18 122 Jeremiah
1:28 131 4:3 237
2 129, 148 1 Samuel 17:10 209
2:7 54, 73, 75, 2:8 201 31:3 237
77 16:7 209 31:31–34 83
2:22–23 130, 132 18 241
2:23 148 Ezekiel
2:24 146, 148, 1 Kings 48:30–35 265
270 16:7 209
3:15 268 Daniel
3:16 154 Job 7:13 274
3:19 54 1:12 115
3:20 130 33:4 75 Amos
6 133, 137 4:13 52
6:2 204 Psalms 9:6 274
6:3 63 24:1 202
6:17 75 32:1–2 121 Micah
21:10 82 104:29–30 75 6:6 200
24:64–65 133 106:28–31 122
25:23 87 Malachi
28:12 268 Proverbs 1:1 237
40–41 65 8 8 1:10–11 168
49:27 122, 241 1:11 191
Ecclesiastes
Leviticus 3:1 141 APOCRYPHA
19:18 82, 205 Wisdom of Solomon
Isaiah 1:1 31
Numbers 2:3 237
25:9 122 3:3 7 OLD TESTAMENT
26:62 122 10:23 237 PSEUDEPIGRAPHA
11:1–2 56 1 Enoch
40:8 274 6–16 137
45:7 232 8 138
NEW TESTAMENT 18 199 21:13 122

Matthew 18:18–22 199 21:21–26 79
5:14–16 209 18:42 28 22:3 79
5:16 209 24:39 136 22:4 122
5:17 205 23:43 279 24:10 124
5:23–24 168 26:10–11 122
5:23 205 John 28:3 122
6:16–18 64 1 8
7:7 28 1:1–18 58 Romans
9:2–6 64 1:1 58 1–11 253
10:16 111 1:13 62 1:2 252
10:19 65 3:6 59, 62 1:4 78
10:23 123, 175 3:8 73 1:7 59
10:37 121 4:24 62 1:8 32
11:13 64 6:8 58 1:16–17 84, 91
12:3–4 168 6:63 60 1:16 95, 100,
19:5 146 7:37–39 74 225
19:19 205 8:3–5 59 1:17 91, 252
22:21 121 8:26 58 1:20 56
22:39 82, 205 10:30 58, 59 1:21 76
24:13 135, 149 14:2–3 273 1:28 76
14:11 58 2 95
Mark 14:16 59, 68 2:10 84, 95,
4:21 209 14:28 59 100
9:29 64 16:12 61 2:12 84, 91
10:8 146 16:13 65, 67 2:14–15 237
12:31 82 17:3 67 2:17–24 84
20:17 136 2:24 100
Luke 20:22 73 2:25–29 84
1:35 58 2:28–29 95, 275
3:1 58 Acts 2:28 192
4:18 200 2 65 2:29 91
6:20–22 200 8:3 122 3:1–9 100
6:22 200 9:1 122 3:1–2 84, 95,
6:43 232 9:21 122 100
7:18–23 64 9:25 124 3:2 252
8:16 209 10:1–11:18 79 3:9 84, 95
10:27 82 13:13–51 79 3:11 96
11:33 209 13:46 79, 123 3:19–20 84
12:1 233 15 6, 240 3:21–26 84
12:12 65 15:1–29 79 3:27–31 84
15:11–32 96 15:5 244 3:27 255
16:1–17 199 15:9 79 3:31–4:25 252
16:5 209 16:1–3 240 3:31 95, 96
16:16 64, 242 16:2 244 4 96
16:23–24 269, 270 16:3 93 4:1–25 84
17:21 199 21:7–14 122, 124 4:7–8 122
302 Index of References
Romans (cont.) 9–11 101, 103 13:9 205

4:11 99 9 84, 91 13:14 125
4:17 76 9:1–5 100, 252 14–15 253, 254
4:25 121 9:3 101 14:1–15:6 252, 253,
5:3 113, 121 9:4 84, 96 255
5:12 133 9:5 59 14:15 255
6:1–11 276 9:6–24 87 14:20 255
6:4 78, 175 9:6–13 102 15 191
7 206 9:6 102 15:1–6 253–55
7:1–4 281 9:7 87 15:4 252
7:1–3 147 9:12 87 15:7–13 253, 254
7:2–3 149 9:14–16 102 15:8 254
7:4 149 10–11 96 15:15–16 191
7:6 84 10 96 15:18–19 37
7:12 252 10:1 84 15:27 56
7:14 56 10:2–4 91 16:1–2 161, 221
7:18 63, 68 10:3 100 16:3–5 220
7:29 206 10:4 85 16:4–5 221
7:30 206 10:6–13 252 16:6 220
7:31 206 10:12 84, 96 16:9 220
8 112 10:14–21 84 16:12 220
8:1–11 120 10:16 96 16:20 121
8:2–13 276 10:18 96 16:21 220
8:2–5 63, 68 11 97, 100– 16:23 219
8:2 255 102
8:4 255 11:1–10 96 1 Corinthians
8:5–6 66 11:1–2 100 1 129
8:5 54 11:1 85, 96 1:10 32, 33,
8:8–9 206 11:2–10 85 121
8:9 77 11:11–16 85, 96 1:11 219
8:11 76–78, 11:16–21 85, 96 1:18–31 121
276 11:23–26 101 1:20 40
8:12–17 193 11:23–24 85 1:27–28 114, 123
8:13 75 11:25–26 100 2:7 90
8:14–17 77 11:26–27 92 2:11 60, 68
8:14 113 11:26 85, 102 2:12 77
8:16 63 11:28–29 100 2:14 229
8:17 112, 121 11:28 102 3:1–3 56
8:22–26 69 11:29 102 3:1 32
8:26 63, 68, 11:30–32 103 3:2 148, 162
131 11:33 230 3:9 220
8:29 192 11:34 121 3:16 146, 148,
8:32 63, 121, 12–15 253 198
124 12:1 276 3:18 32
8:35–39 112 13:1–7 113 3:21 205, 206,
8:35–38 121 13:3–4 113 216
8:35 113 13:8–10 255 3:25 32
4 219 7:29 94, 131, 11–14 160

4:1–2 11 135, 141, 11 136, 137,
4:1 121 148 189
4:3 209 7:31 135, 156, 11:2–16 158, 160,
4:6 122 272 163
4:7 206 7:32–35 161 11:2 67
4:9 216 7:34 132, 136, 11:3–16 64, 132
4:11–13 219 145, 159 11:3 160
4:16 210 7:35 136 11:5–16 65
4:18–21 56 7:36–38 158–61 11:5–6 129
5 143 7:36 135 11:5 152, 153,
5:5–10 6 7:38 67 155, 163
5:6 205, 233 7:39–40 159 11:7–9 158
5:9–11 146 7:39 93, 147, 11:7 139, 158
6:2 116 162 11:8 154
6:3 115, 125, 7:40 69, 130, 11:10 137, 138,
138 147, 162 159
6:12 207 8:2 32 11:16 158
6:14 78 8:6 76, 77 11:17–34 223
6:19 198 9 33 11:19 27, 246
7 65, 127, 9:5–6 133 11:21 223
129, 130, 9:5 158, 161 11:22 160, 223
135, 141, 9:8 81, 90 11:23–25 166
142, 159– 9:10 64 11:29 223
61, 216, 9:11 56 12–14 49
281 9:19–23 255 12 55, 187,
7:1–7 157 9:19–22 33 192
7:1 129, 134, 9:19–21 92 12:10 73
157 9:19 239 12:13 74, 175
7:2 130, 137 9:20–22 93 13 66
7:5 143, 154, 9:20–21 82, 91 13:2 73
161 9:20 33, 234 13:5 127, 205
7:6–40 67 9:22 239 14 187
7:6–8 147 9:25 66, 109, 14:2 73
7:7 134, 139 120 14:6–25 73
7:8 135 10–11 65, 66 14:15 72, 75
7:9 67, 129, 10 189, 193 14:20 73
142, 149, 10:2 54 14:26–33 163
157 10:8 122 14:29 73
7:12–16 162 10:11 135, 207 14:32–34 155
7:12–14 146 10:14–22 190 14:32 73
7:13–14 146 10:18 190 14:33–36 163
7:20 210, 217 10:22 124 14:33–35 160
7:25–35 157 10:23 146, 207, 14:33 187
7:28–29 270 208 14:34–35 149, 150,
10:24 127, 205 160
10:32 121 14:34 151
1 Corinthians (cont.) 3 100, 252 12:9 114, 123

14:45 74 3:6 63, 64, 68, 12:10 113, 121
15 18, 39, 74, 76 13:4 78
75, 148, 3:7–11 91 13:10 192
272, 273, 3:11 82
278–80 3:14–15 91 Galatians
15:1–4 166 3:14 82 1:1 59, 241
15:3–4 14, 32 3:15 100 1:6 32, 243
15:3 62 4:4 192, 250 1:7 239, 244
15:9 122 4:8–10 121 1:8 32, 64,
15:10 220 4:8 113 243, 244
15:12–23 272 4:16 121 1:11–12 166
15:12 262, 273 4:13 252 1:13 100, 122
15:22–24 272 5 279 1:18 33
15:22 76 5:1 108, 120 1:23 122
15:23 273 5:2–10 273 1:24 33
15:24–28 273 5:5 77 2 240
15:24–25 60 5:6–8 273 2:1–10 252
15:29 273 5:10 33 2:1 244
15:32 149 5:17 131 2:2–9 239
15:35–41 272 6:14 149 2:2 59, 234,
15:35 75 6:16 198 239
15:40–42 273 6:20 208 2:3 82, 93,
15:40–41 273 8:1–6 220 244
15:41 111, 121 8:6 20 2:4 244
15:42–54 74 8:13–14 222 2:5 244
15:42 74, 273 8:14 220 2:6 82
15:43 74 8:21 209 2:9 33, 234,
15:44–46 74, 76 8:23 220 239
15:45 76, 77 10–12 36, 40, 41, 2:10 252
15:46 54 43 2:11–21 227, 234
15:47–49 74 10:14 56 2:11–14 33, 82,
15:50 60, 74, 11:1–22 219 225, 253,
273 11:1–2 41 255
15:52–54 145 11:2 41 2:11 239
15:52 74, 272 11:13 66 2:12–13 33
15:53–54 74 11:14 32 2:14 239
15:54 74, 273 11:22 81 2:15–21 245
15:56 273 11:23 113, 121 2:19–20 256
15:58 124 11:32–33 124 3:1 32
16:2 222 12 108, 117 3:5–14 82
12:2–4 120, 122, 3:5 77
2 Corinthians 269, 270, 3:8 252
1:12 56 274 3:11–12 251
1:21–22 77 12:2 65, 124 3:11 94
2 143 12:4 32, 55, 73 3:13 62
2:14–16 120 12:7 114, 115 3:17 100
3:19 82, 87 3:9 11 Colossians

3:25 82 4 187 1 10
3:27 115, 125, 4:14 121 1:10 66
175 4:27 124 1:12–23 14
3:28 82, 94, 96, 4:28 210 1:15–20 20
158 4:30 55, 65, 1:15–17 76, 77
4:1–11 255 120 1:15 192
4:1–7 193 5 162 1:16 56
4:4–6 14 5:5 212, 217 1:27 125
4:4 254 5:11 68 2 57
4:5 82, 90 5:16 124 2:8 31, 32, 57,
4:6–7 77 5:25–33 162 233
4:6 77 5:26–27 162 2:12 175
4:9 33 5:29 147 3:2 120
4:11 220 5:31 146, 148 3:5 212, 217
4:22–30 82 5:32 147 3:10 192
4:22–24 90 6:1 66
4:26 266, 275 6:11–17 137 1 Thessalonians
4:30 87 6:12 124 1:2 32
5:2–4 82 1:10 274
5:6 82 Philippians 2:1–12 219
5:7 32 1:1 166, 192 2:12 66
5:9 233 1:3–4 32 2:14–16 83
5:13–14 251, 255 1:19 77 2:15 92, 100
5:14 82, 205 1:20 208 2:16 100
5:16–18 120 1:29–30 113, 121 2:19 274
5:16–17 54 2 10, 192 3:13 274
5:17 67, 142 2:4 127, 205 4:3–5 140
5:19–21 275 2:5–11 14, 20 4:4–5 161
5:20 32 2:16 220 4:8 77
5:24 67 2:17 113, 121, 4:11–12 219, 220
6:2 251, 255 192 4:11 210, 217
6:13 205 2:25–30 219 4:13–5:11 274
6:16 31, 59 2:25 110 4:13–18 280
3:3 192, 205 4:13–17 135
Ephesians 3:5 81 4:15–17 274
1 8, 11 3:6 122 4:16–17 274
1:7–10 7 3:8 246 4:16 274, 275
1:9–10 11 3:14 124 5:2 275
1:10 132 3:15 66, 69 5:5 124
1:17 60 3:16 59 5:9 275
2:10 225 3:20 109, 120, 5:14 124
2:14–16 83 266 5:17 274
2:14–15 92 4:3 171 5:19–20 55
2:15 83 4:5 209 5:21 32, 73
2:19 123 4:8 209 5:23 207, 275
3:8–12 11 4:12–13 219
2 Thessalonians 2:3 33, 110 1 John

1:4–5 121 2:5 110 1:1 136
1:4 112, 113 2:11–13 121 4:1 55, 73
1:5–8 275 2:11 113 4:18 106
2:1–12 275 2:17 32
2:15 67 2:19 32 Jude
3:7–12 210 3:16 69 7 148
4:6–8 121 23 56
1 Timothy 4:6 113
1:3–11 37 Revelation
1:3–4 11 Titus 1:8 132
1:4 11, 32, 33, 1:6–9 148 1:10 65
64, 233 1:11 37 2 65
1:13 122 2:14 121 3:12 265
1:18 32 3:10–11 32 6:9–10 269, 270
1:19 212 3:10 32 6:9 65, 268
2:9 161 6:10 263
2:11–12 149, 152 Philemon 9:10 268
2:12–14 154 2 110 20:1–15 267
2:14 133, 157 20:5–6 274
3:1–7 148 Hebrews 20:12–14 274
3:2–12 166 3 95 20:14 274
3:2 179 3:1–6 83 21–22 280
3:15 166 6:4 65 21:8 274
4:1–5 128 6:6 44 21:9–22:5 265
4:1–3 140 7 95 21:10 265
4:1 32 7:18–28 83
4:3 33, 140 8 95 NEW TESTAMENT
4:14 166 8:6–13 83 APOCRYPHA AND
5:1–2 166 8:16–30 87 PSEUDEPIGRAPHA
5:14 149, 162 9:1–10 83 Acts of Paul
5:17 166, 167 9:10 95 25 197
6:3–4 32 9:11–10:18 83
6:10 64, 201, 9:15 95 Acts of Thomas
212, 216, 11:1–31 83 121 197
217 11:24–29 83
6:13 32 APOSTOLIC FATHERS
6:20 32, 172 1 Peter 1 Clement
2:11 56 40.5 167
2 Timothy 2:17 121 44 166
1:6 166 3:1–6 64 44.2 167
1:7–8 113 3:3–5 161
1:7 56, 121 2 Clement
1:13 167 2 Peter 14 56
1:14 32, 172 3:15 256
2 120 3:16 126
2:2 32
Ignatius Cyprian 9.13 197

To the Ephesians Ad Fortunatum 9.20.1 212
1.1–3 169 13.6.42.5 116
Visions
To the Magnesians Epistula 3.1.9 116
6.1–2 169 3.1.1 214 3.3 197
6.2.1 116 3.6.5–7 212
To the Trallians 8.1.1 214
3.1 169 12.1.1 214 Hippolytus
12.2.1 116 Traditio apostolica
Letter of Polycarp 15.3 116 3 170
3.2 256 31.3 116 7 170
63.2.1–2 170
CLASSICAL WRITINGS 63.14.4 170 Commentarium in
Anselm 69.1.1 176 Danielem
Prosl. 73.7.2 176 2.37.4 116
13 53 73.19.3 181
Irenaeus
Aristotle Demetrius Adversus haereses
Historia animalium De elocutione 1.10 30
8.7.2 232 165–66 38 1.1.11–12 56
1.10.1 24
Cicero Epiphaneius 1.27.3 230
De of¿ciis Panarion 2.34.4 54
1.77 42 42.1.3–6 226 3.2.2 167
48.2.6 266 3.3.3–4 171
De oratore 48.14.4 45 3.12.12 230
2.46 53 49.1–3 266 3.24.1 174
85 38 49.2 151 4.8.3 168
4.17.5–6 168
De inventione Eusebius 4.18.1 168
1.8.10–11 236 Historia ecclesiastica 4.21.2–3 87
1.20–21 232 5.18.2 265, 270 4.30.1 212
1.28–29 232 5.16.8 266 4.41.4 17
5.18.3 153 5.6.1 54
Clement of Alexandria 8.14.10 214 5.12.2 52
Quis dives salvetur
2 214 Hermes Epideixis touapostolikouk
3 214 Mandates kerygmatos
3 197 4.2 181 6 24
26 214 4.3 197
40 197 Jerome
Similitudes De viris illustribus
Stromata 4.5 212 18 266
4.13 55 8.2.2 197 53 185, 261
6.105.1 197 8.8.1 212
6.71.3–72.1 197
John Chrysostom 4.8 268 Rut. Lup.

Homiliae in epistulam 8.1 269 2.6 38
i ad Corinthios 11.2–6 268
15.6 214 11.9 269 Tertullian
11.10–12.5 268 Ad Scapulam
Justyn Martyr 13.1–6 268 3.4 195
Apologia i 13.8 268, 269 4.5–6 195
1.61 197 21.11 269 4.7 210
26 227 5.2 195
58 227 Peter of Alexandria
65.2 169 On Riches Ad martyras
66 167 37 214 1 65, 120
55 214 2–3 65
Dialogus cum Tryphone 66 214 2 108, 120
5 54 2.3 263
128 59 Pliny 2.4 263
Naturalis historia 3 66, 109,
Lucian 8.55.37 232 120, 123
Alexander (Pseudomantis) 3.1 109
27 42 Praedestinatus
De haeresis Ad nationes
Michael the Syrian 1.26 47, 265, 1.14.2 92
Chronicle 270 1.19.2 260
9.3 265 1.19.4 260
Pseudo-Hippolytus 1.19.5 262
Origen Haereses 1.19.6 264
Contra Celsum 1 170 2.8.12 65
7.18 249 9.11.1 179 2.17.18 263
9.12.20–25 182
Commentarium in Ad uxorem
evangelium Matthaei Ps. Clementine 1.1.2–6 264, 271
33 24 Homilies, Ep. Clem. 1.1.2 95
ad Iac. 1.1.4 264
Commentarii in 1.19 171 1.2 23
evangelium Joannis 1.2.2–3 95
32.15 24 Pseudo-Tertullian 1.2.2 94
Adversus Omnes Haereses 1.3 206
Homiliae in Joshuam 6.2 226 1.3.2 134
1.6 197 1.3.3–5 142
Quintilian 1.3.3 206
Homiliae in Leviticum Institutio oratoria 1.3.4–5 129
2.4.5 197 3.4.12–15 231 1.3.4 114, 207
4.2.1 232 1.3.5–6 208
Passio Perpetuae et 6.4.1 231 1.3.5 208
Felicitatis 1.3.6 136
1.3–5 269 Refutatio 1.4.2 142
4.3–9 268 9–10 179 1.4.3–8 264
1.4.4 136 2–3 23 1.20 17, 33,

1.4.6–8 143 2.1–3.13 87 225
1.4.6 203, 210 2.9 100 1.20.1 233, 234
1.4.7 204 3.3 100 1.20.2–6 33
1.5.1 143, 264 5.4 64 1.20.2 234
1.5.4 141 6 23 1.20.3 234
1.7.2 147 7.6 65 1.21 25
1.7.4 151, 152 8 99 1.21.1–2 235
1.7.1–2 273 8.13–15 64 1.21.1 89
1.7.4 264, 270 9 23, 35 1.21.2–3 235
1.7.8 264 9.19 65 1.21.5 229, 230
2.1.2–4 270 9.22 99 1.22.1 230
2.1.4 147 9.23 64 1.23.7 195
2.2.1–9 146 9.26 56 1.24 249
2.2.3–5 270 10.9 65 1.25.8 230
2.2.4–5 23 10.19 64 1.27 249
2.2.9 148 13–14 98 1.29.1–2 140
2.3–4 195 13.23 58 1.29.4 65, 147
2.3.1–3 146 13.25–26 102 1.29.5 141
2.3.4 204 13.28–29 99 1.29.4 229, 230,
2.4.1–2.6.3 146 13.28 99 264, 270,
2.7.1–2 146 271
2.8 195 Adversus Marcionem 2.1.1 230
2.8.3–5 209 1 233, 236 2.2.4 230
2.8.3 204 1.1 25 2.6.1 230
2.8.4 146 1.1.1 229, 261 2.6.3 52, 57
2.8.5 200 1.1.3 231 2.6.7 197
2.8.6–9 142 1.1.4–5 232 2.8.2 52
2.8.7 146 1.1.4 226 2.8.4 57
2.8.8 146 1.1.5 226 2.9 75
3.1 148 1.1.6 232, 261 2.9.1–2 54
1.2 232 2.9.3–9 54
Adversus Hermogenem 1.2.2–3 233 2.9.7 138
1 25 1.2.3 233 2.14 17
1.4 53 1.3.2 240 2.15.1–2 88
18.1 68 1.6.1 230 2.15.1 34
20 22 1.7.3 230 2.18.1 230
22.1–2 64 1.15 17 2.24.4 229
22.1 22 1.15.1 229, 230 2.29.1 230
31 22 1.16.1 56 3 94
32.2–3 52 1.16.2 230 3.1.2 230
1.18.4 226 3.5 123
Adversus Iudaeos 1.19.1 233 3.5.4 94, 225,
1.1 86 1.19.2 58 228
1.3–5 87 1.19.4 233 3.6.3 226
1.8 87, 99, 1.19.5 233 3.7 98
102
Adversus Marcionem 4.3.3 92, 93, 5 6, 18, 88–

(cont.) 239 90, 94, 95,
3.8.7 272 4.3.4 239 97, 98,
3.9.7 57 4.4.3–4 232 226, 229,
3.12–14 98 4.5 25 242, 265,
3.14 23 4.6 23 267
3.14.4 246 4.6.3 227 5.1 23, 123
3.16.5 58 4.9 23 5.1.1 240
3.16.7 230 4.9.2 226 5.1.2 226, 241
3.17 23, 35 4.14.13 56, 200 5.1.3 241
3.17.3–4 56 4.14.2 195, 200 5.1.5–6 241
3.21 23 4.14.6 63 5.1.5 96
3.22.7 58 4.14.7 200 5.1.6 224, 230,
3.23 98 4.15.13 201 246
3.23.1–4 99 4.15.6–8 200 5.1.8 242
3.23.2–3 102 4.15.8 199, 200 5.1.9 89
3.24 266 4.15.9 201 5.2–4 272
3.24.2–3 65 4.17.2 89 5.2.1 89, 242
3.24.2 266, 275 4.22.5 229 5.2.1–2 243
3.24.3–6 266 4.22.12 64 5.2.2 243
3.24.4 264–66, 4.26.5–9 199 5.2.3 5
275 4.27.6–9 200 5.2.4 89, 243
3.24.6 266, 272, 4.28.1 233 5.2.7–3.7 33
274 4.28.8 63 5.2.7 6, 244
3.24.10–11 58 4.28.11 201, 206 5.2.9 230
3.24.11 274 4.29.1 199 5.3 33, 225,
4 96, 229, 4.29.8 230 252
235, 236, 4.31.1 197 5.3.1–2 244
238, 245, 4.33.8 238 5.3.2 89
265, 267 4.33.9 57 5.3.5 244, 245
4.1 23 4.34.4 199 5.3.6 200
4.1.1 236 4.34.5 140 5.3.7 245
4.1.2 230 4.34.10–17 267 5.4.3 90
4.1.3 236 4.34.11–12 267 5.4.8 90
4.1.4 237 4.34.12–13 96 5.5–10 90
4.1.6 237 4.34.12 199, 267 5.5.1 90
4.1.8 149 4.34.13 267 5.6.10 7
4.1.9–10 237 4.34.17 203 5.6.2 90
4.2 17, 29, 4.35.13 199 5.6.13 206
238 4.36.4–5 199 5.7.1–3 23
4.2.1 238 4.36.4 199 5.7.10–11 90
4.2.4 238 4.36.5 200 5.7.10 99
4.2.5 239 4.36.6 200 5.7.2 22, 205
4.3 17, 33, 4.36.7 199, 200 5.7.7–8 141
225 4.40.6 64 5.8 72
4.3.2–4 33 4.43.3 230 5.8.2 138
4.3.2 239
5.8.4–5 58 5.17.6 58 11.6–9 59

5.8.4 56 5.17.10 102 11.8 96
5.8.11–12 154 5.17.14–15 92 12.2–7 59
5.8.11 152, 153 5.18.7 15 12.6–8 58
5.8.12 66 5.19 90 13 59
5.9.1–10 272 5.19.2 224 13.1 8
5.9.2–3 273 5.20 90, 282 13.2–9 59
5.9.6 273 5.20.7 274 13.5 8, 59
5.9.7 230 5.21 90 13.7–9 59
5.9.8 63 5.21.1 23, 181 13.7 68
5.9.9 92, 102 14.28.11 199 14 5
5.10.1 273 14.33.1–2 199 14.9 58
5.10.2 273 14.33.1 199 15 23
5.10.4 64 21.1 181 15.7 59
5.10.11–15 275 16.6–7 59
5.10.14–15 273 Adversus Praxean 19.3 58
5.10.14 273 1.1 7 19.8 8
5.10.16 273 1.5 7, 58, 59 20 30
5.11–12 90 1.6–7 261 25.1 59
5.11 250 1.6 182 26.2–5 58
5.11.5 91 1.7 4 26.8 68
5.11.8 101 2–3 13 27.3–5 58
5.11.12 64 2 24, 25, 35, 27.6 62
5.12.1–5 273 131 27.14 59
5.12.6–7 66 2.1 8, 13, 20 27.15 58, 59
5.12.8 263 2.3–4 58 28.12 60
5.13–14 90 3.1 195 29 22
5.13.1 91 4.1 58 29.1 62
5.13.2 91 4.2 273 29.2 62
5.13.4 91, 272 4.2.5 59 29.3 62, 94
5.13.7 91, 100 4.4 60 29.6 63
5.13.15 65, 90 5–7 8 29.7 63
5.14.5 272 5 60 30 24
5.14.9 230 7 58 30.2 62
5.14.6–8 100 7.1–2 9 30.4 63
5.14.7–8 91 7.1 10 30.5 59
5.15 90 7.8 10 31.1–2 59, 88
5.15.1–2 92, 100 8 11 31.1 59
5.15.3 140 8.3–5 60 31.2 59
5.15.5 55 8.4 58
5.16 90 8.5–7 59 Adversus Valentinianos
5.16.1–2 275 8.12 58 1.1–2.1 261
5.16.4 64 8.15 58 2 73
5.16.5–7 275 8.21 58 3.4 64
5.17–18 90 9.1–4 59 10.5 57
5.17.1 7 9.3 68 11–14 58
5.17.5 56 11 22 11.1–2 57
Adversus Valentinianos 2.3 55 5.7 54

(cont.) 3.1 31 8–9 54
17.1 58 5.2–3 53 8.4 57
18.1 57 5.2 51 10.5 64
22.2 57 5.3 57 12 197
27.1 57 8.5 65 13.3 60
9.3–4 55 17.1–2 176
Apologeticum 9.4 55, 155, 17.4–5 149, 150
17.1 57 184, 269 17.5 111
18.1–2 22 9.6 51 18.2 60
20 22 9.8 270, 274
20.4 64 10–12 76 De carne Christi
21.11 62 10.2 57 1.1–2 260
21.17 62 10.7 51 1.1 260
21.24 106 11–16 51 1.2 61, 260
22 106 11.1–6 53 1.3 260
22.1 57 11.1 51, 54 2.1–5.10 260
22.3–4 138 11.3 54 2.4 232
23.12 57 11.4 63 3.8–9 61
26.1 263 11.6 53 5.6–8 62
27.4–5 106 14.4 51 5.10 95
30.1–3 263 17.13 51 6.1–8.7 260
30.5 51 18.5 57 6.9 57
36–37 258 19.7–8 50 8.2–3 261
37.4 195 21.1–2 63 15.1–2 57
38.3 203 24.2 53 15.2 260, 267
39 28 27.7 54 18.1–7 62
39.1–5 261 40.2 54 18.5–7 62
42.2 210 41.3 54 19.1 62
42.3 210 49.3 96 19.2 62
47.10 30 52.3 203 19.5–20.7 62
47.12–13 263 53.3 50, 65 21.4 64
48.1–15 260 57.9 55 22.5 94
48.4 262 22.2 269 23.6 64
48.11 262 55.3 275
48.12 262 55.4 268 De corona militis
48.13 262, 264 55.5 263, 268 1.4 66
49 40 58.8 274 4.6 66, 69
50 104 11 258
50.2 106 De baptismo
50.12 106 1 150 De cultu feminarum
1.2 150, 261 1.1.2–3 133
De anima 3.2 52, 175 1.2.1 138
1.1 53, 269 4–5 197 1.2.4 138, 204
1.4 58 4.1 52, 57, 1.3.1 137
1.11 53 175 1.3.3 69
2 22, 24 4.4 175, 176 1.4.2 204
1.9.1–2 203, 210 De exhortatione castitatis 3.1 114

1.9.2 203 1.4–5 143 4 119
2.1.1 198 2.1 147 4.1 123
2.1.3 204 2.3 197 4.4 124
2.2.2–3 197, 208 3.6 130, 141 6 123
2.2.4 205 3.7 142 6.1 175
2.3.2–3 204, 206 3.8–10 129 8.2–3 62
2.3.2 145, 203– 4.2–3 147 9–10 124
5, 210 4.2 130 9.2 124
2.3.3 127, 145, 4.4–6 69, 147 9.4 65, 145
206 4.5–6 271 10 115, 124
2.4.1–2 145 4.6 130 10.1 123
2.5.1–2.7.3 145 5.2–3 148 11.1–3 114
2.5 133 6.1–7.1 148 11.1 175
2.5.2–3 205 6.1–3 131 12.1 123
2.5.2 204 6.1 94, 135, 12.2 94
2.5.5 205 148 12.3 124
2.6.1 204 7 150 12.8 124
2.7 204 7.2–6 150 12.10 124
2.7.2 145 7.3 148, 150 14 106
2.7.3 135, 207 7.4 91, 94 14.2 124
2.9.1 204, 214 8 206, 208 14.3 65
2.9.4–6 195 8.3 133
2.9.5 203, 204, 9.1 145, 271 De idolatria
210 9.3–4 143 1.3 210
2.9.6–7 207 9.4 134 1.4 210
2.9.6 135, 206, 10.1 134 4 22, 63
272 10.3 143 5–8 210
2.9.7 128 10.4 66 5.1–2 210, 211
2.9.8 143, 207 10.5 66, 154 5.1 210
2.10.1–4 207 10.6 66 5.2 211
2.10.1 203 11.1–2 148 5.3 211
2.10.2 145 11.1 147 6 63
2.10.5 207 12 142 8.1 211
2.10.6 207, 208 12.3 143 8.2–3 211
2.11.1 145, 203, 13.1–3 149 8.3 211
208, 209 8.4–5 212
2.11.2 208, 209 De fuga in persecutione 8.4 211
2.11.3 208, 209 1.5–6 114 9.4 203
2.13.1–2 209 1.5 124 11 212
2.13.1 209 2 114, 115 11.1 201, 212
2.13.2 209 2.2 114 11.2–7 212
2.13.3–7 110 2.3 123 11.2 212
2.13.3 198 2.8–9 123 11.8 212
2.13.6 145 2.8 123 12.1 212
2.13.7 145, 153 2.9 123 12.2 213
De idolatria (cont.) 3.3 141, 142 1 23, 60, 64

12.3–4 213 3.4–5 129 2 63
12.4 213 3.6 130 4.2 197
13.2 210 3.8–9 131 5 262
13.4 267 3.8 141 5.1–4 264
14 63 3.10 67, 68, 5.1 197
14.4–5 92 131 5.2 12
15 63 4.1–2 132 5.3 263
17–19 258 4.3 271 5.4 263
17.1–19.3 106 4.4 130 6 65
17.2–3 213 4.5 132 6.2 66
18 203, 214 5.2 132 6.3 66
18.1–4 213 5.6–7 147 9 61
18.1 213 6.1–2 94 20 22, 64
18.3 195 7 23 20.1–2 203
18.4 213 7.1 95 20.2 205
18.7 213 7.4 134, 135 21.1–22.10 136
18.8 213, 214 8.1 131, 134 21.1–4 132
18.9 138, 195, 8.3 64 22 22, 64
213 8.4–5 133 22.1 132
8.4 130 22.9 206
De ieiunio adversus 9.5 147 22.10 50, 133
physchicos 10.5–8 271 25 61, 65
1 25 10.6 148 28 72
1.2 67 10.7 271 29 69
1.3 154, 270 10.8 271 29.13 197
2–3 131 10.9 271, 273
3.2 63 11.1 151, 152 De paenitentia
4–5 65 11.2 148 2.4 61
8.4 64 11.4 132, 147, 2.5 61
9.2 64 151 2.6 61
10.3 65 11.6 148 3.6 54, 262
13 25 12.1–2 148 4.4 195
13.3 150 12.2 150 6.4 197
14.4 131 12.4 148 7.10 197
15.1 23 13.3 149 8.1 65
17.1 67 14 23, 93
14.1–2 93 De pallio
De monogomia 14.3 93, 131 4.6 203
1.2 141 14.4 135, 149
1.3 142 15.1 140 De patientia
1.5 63, 67 15.3 149 2.1–3 263
2 25, 63 15.4 135 3 258
2.1–2 67 16.1–2 53 3.4 62
2.1 67 16.4–5 135, 149 5.3–4 203
3 67 16.4 143 5.9 51
3.1 269 17 149 6.5–6 64
3.3–4 129 De oratione 7.1 22
7.2 201 9.3 65 28 29

7.3 195, 201 11.3 65 28.1–4 61
7.4 201 12.1 65 29–31 25
7.5 64, 201, 13 24, 30, 34, 29 27, 28, 32
202, 205, 35, 131 30 23, 27, 29,
212 13.1 30 32
7.6 202 13.2–5 14, 20 30.1 226
7.7 23, 202 13.3 58 30.2 226
7.8 202 13.5 61, 262, 30.5–7 261
7.9 202 264 31–34 26
7.11 202 13.6 262 32.1 171
7.12 202 14–15 28 32.2 171
7.13 202 14 27–29, 35, 32.6 172
8.3 94 42 32.8 173
9.2 263 14.1–2 93 33 33
10.5 195 15–19 26 33.3 273
12.8 23, 66 15 25, 26, 28, 33.5 94
12.9–10 66 35 33.6–7 262
15.3 195 16–18 26 33.6 140, 181
16.5 263 16 32 33.9 261
18 35 34 39
De praescriptione 19–21 30 36 27, 34, 35
haereticorum 19 19, 25, 26, 37 25, 29–31,
1–14 26 29, 35 35
1–7 26 19.2–3 29 38–45 26
1 27 20–37 26 38–43 26
3 32 20–21 25, 29 38 27, 28, 38
3.2 261 20.1–5 26 38.9 4
3.3.4 226 20.3 61 39 27, 237
3.6 197 20.4 61 40 27, 28
3.12–14 224 20.6–30.17 26 41.1 237
3.12 224 21 29, 30 41.3 150
4 27, 32 22–23 27 41.5 150
5 27, 32 22 29, 32 44–45 26
6 28, 32, 42 22.8–9 61 44 27, 29, 33,
7 31, 32, 39, 22.10–11 61 36, 41
40 23 23, 28, 33, 44.2 41
7.7 57, 233 39, 225 44.3–12 36
7.12 233 23.1–24.3 240 44.3 37
8–14 26 23.1–11 93 44.4–6 37
8–12 42 24 32, 33 44.6 37
8 28, 29 25 32 44.7 38
8.4 65 25.2–3 172 44.8 38
9 28, 29 25.8–9 172 44.9 38
26 32, 33 44.10–11 39
27 29, 31, 32 44.12 39
9.12 30 22 68 De spectaculis
44.13 261 22.6 68 1.1 264
1.5 67
De pudicitia De resurrectione carnis 7.5 204
1 181 2.2 260 25.3 203
1.6–8 182 5.4–5 272 27.3 262
1.6–7 149 13.2 22 29.3 262, 263
1.6 67 13.3 205 30.1–4 264
1.10 197 14.5 57 30.1 262, 264
1.15 149 17.2 268, 270 30.2 262
1.20 67, 149 19.5 58 30.3 263
2.2 182 20.1–7 58 30.4 262
4.1–2 143 23–24 272
6.1–2 131 23.1–6 272 De testimonia animae
6.2 68 23.8 23 6 22
6.5 95 24.1–20 274
7.9 68 24.1–2 274 De virginibus velandi
7.18 68 24.7 275 1 22, 24, 25,
7.22 182 24.13–20 275 35, 131
8 24, 30 25.2 274 1.1–2 136
8.4 96 26.9–11 95 1.3–7 270
9 57 26.10–14 275 1.5–6 67
9.22 128 37.7 57 1.5 67
10 23 39.7–9 31 2 24
10.4 68 40–54 272 2.1 136
10.12 181 40 246 3.1–2 132
11.3 68 41.6–7 274 3.1 139
12.1–2 68 42.11–13 273 3.4 137
12.1 68 43.4 268, 273 4.1 132
13–14 143 45.1–15 275 4.2–3 23
13 115 45.11 55 4.2 129, 132,
13.7 151 46.5 276 137
14.8 138 47.16 276 4.5 64
14.14 56 47.17–18 275 5.1–5 130
14.16 261 48–49 74 5.1 132
14.27 23 48.1–8 272 5.3 133
15.5 149 48.10 273, 274 6.1 133
16.16 142 48.11 273 7.1 137
16.19 272 49.1–13 275 7.2 132, 138,
17.4–8 276 50.1–6 273 139
17.10–11 63, 68 50.4–5 60 7.3 138
19.4 65 51.5.7 273 8.1 137
20.3 65 53.17 62 8.2 132
21 150 57.12 195 9.1 149, 151
21.5 68 58.5 58 9.2 134
21.7 68, 140 62.2 57 9.3 133, 151,
21.9 68 63.7–10 22 152
21.13 65 10.2 139
11.1–5 133 Scorpiace 12 122

11.2 136, 138 1 121–23 12.6–8 65
12.1 50, 136 1.8 110, 121 13 111–13,
13.2 135, 204 2–3 110 120–23
13.3 139 2 22, 119 13.1 257, 258
14.1 139 3 122 13.11 56
14.2 140 4.4 110 14 112, 121,
14.3 137 5 122 123
14.5 137, 139 5.1–2 111 15 122–24
15 140 5.3–5 111
15.1 137 5.6–13 111 Theophilus
16 27 6 121 Autolycus
16.1–2 198 6.1–2 111 2.16 197
16.1 136 6.2–11 111
16.4 130, 137, 6.7 273 Theon
138 7 121, 123 Progymnasmata
17.1–2 132 8 111, 119 11 38
17.1 142 9–14 111 30–32 38
17.3 138 9.3 66 117 38
53 47 10 121
10.10 92 Rhetorica ad Herennium
11 121, 122 2.47–50 38
4.66 38
INDEX OF MODERN AUTHORS
Aleith, E. 17, 228, 234 Dassmann, E. 228

Ash, J. 139 Davies, S. L. 150
Ashwin-Siejkowski, P. 56 Denzey, N. 46
Develin, R. 235
Babcock, W. S. 228 Dodson, J. R. 16
Bain, A. M. 17, 18, 72, 107, 120, 125 Downs, D. J. 221
Barclay, J. M. G. 101, 103, 219, 253 Dunn, G. D. 20, 22, 25, 26, 30, 34, 49, 52,
Barnes, T. D. 34, 36, 42, 45, 55, 57, 67, 68, 86, 87, 93, 94, 99, 110, 125, 153, 195, 196
94, 107, 110, 113, 114, 128, 150, 181, 195, Dunn, J. D. G. 73, 74, 76, 78, 83, 253
229, 261, 265
Barrett, C. K. 162 Eastman, D. L. 17, 108, 122
Barth, F. 234, 240 Efroymson, D. P. 88, 96
Bastiaensen, A. A. R. 29 Ehrman, B. D. 88
Beker, J. C. 84, 125 Elliott, D. 136–38, 146
Berger, A. 34 Elliott, M. W. 123
Berger, K. 116 Elliott, N. 84
Betz, H. D. 40, 41 Evans, C. A. 80, 85
Bindley, T. H. 34 Evans, E. 6, 7, 43, 112, 224, 230
Bird, M. F. 16 Evans, S. 108
Blowers, P. M. 13
Boyarin, D. 242 Farmer, W. R. 31
Braun, R. 45, 52, 127, 131, 224, 229–32, Fatum, L. 158
238, 241 Fee, G. D. 75
Bray, G. 47, 48 Ferguson, E. 25, 27, 29
Brekelman, A. J. 109 Fiorenza, E. S. 152, 158, 221
Bremmer, J. N. 105 Fisher, J. A. 84
Brent, A. 7, 166–70, 176–82, 184 Fitzgerald, J. T. 17
Brown, P. 134, 137 Fredouille, J.-C. 45, 129–31
Bruce, F. F. 1 Friesen, S. J. 218, 219, 221, 222
Burrows, M. S. 130
Butler, R. D. 47, 48, 153, 269 Gabrielson, J. 257
Gager, J. G. 80, 82–85, 101
Campenhausen, H. von 48 Gass, W. 106
Church, F. F. 133 Gaston, L. 81
Clark, E. A. 57, 127, 130, 135, 143, 151 Gorman, M. J. 257
Clifford, R. J. 87 Grant, R. M. 214
Collins, A. Y. 115 Greenberg, A. 116
Cook, M. J. 82 Greenslade, S. L. 230, 237
Cooper, S. 240 Groh, D. E. 142, 144, 152, 154, 197, 198,
Countryman, L. W. 13, 24, 196 203, 206, 214
Cran¿eld, C. E. B. 84 Gundry, R. H. 75
D’Alès, A. 10, 11 Hagner, D. A. 83–85

D’Angelo, M. R. 158 Hales, S. 160
Daly, C. B. 127 Hall, S. G. 85
Index of Modern Authors 319
Hanson, R. P. C. 25, 227 Martin, D. B. 129, 134, 136–38, 153, 280

Harnack, A. von 1, 226–28, 238, 245 Martyn, J. L. 239, 244
Harrison, J. 221 May, G. 224–26, 230
Harvey, G. 81 McGowan, A. B. 4, 48, 57
Heath, M. 236 McKay, T. W. 150
Heckel, U. 115 McNamara, J. A. 136
Heine, R. E. 45, 154, 259 Meeks, W. A. 17, 129, 218, 221
Hill, C. E. 263, 267, 273 Metzger, B. M. 1
Hirschmann, V.-E. 49 Michaels, J. R. 199
Hoffman, D. L. 139, 154 Moberly, R. W. L. 73
Hoffmann, R. J. 88 Moll, S. 88, 224, 227, 230, 232
Hogan, P. N. 282 Molland, E. 168
Horn, F. W. 74 Moreschini, C. 230
Horner, T. J. 86 Moss, C. R. 105, 111, 116, 117
Horrell, D. G. 219, 284 Munier, C. 36
Horsley, R. A. 222 Murray, M. 82
Jansen, J. F. 23, 196 Nadeau, R. 236

Jensen, A. 131, 151, 154 Nasrallah, L. 105, 153, 154
Jewett, R. 253 Nevett, L. 160
Johnson, D. G. 84 Neymeyr, U. 184
Joubert, S. 221 Niebergall, A. 140
Norelli, E. 225
Karpp, H. 127, 196
Kaylor, R. D. 81 O’Malley, T. P. 22, 30, 119, 128, 131, 143,
Kearsley, R. A. 221 196
Kensky, M. Z. 39, 42–44 Oakes, P. 219
Kieffer, R. 234 Økland, J. 160
Klassen, W. 83 Oravec, C. 36
Kuss, O. 131 Osborn, E. F. 9, 15, 18, 22, 30, 31, 106, 128,
Kydd, R. 49 129, 131, 226
Osiek, C. 160, 162
Labriolle, P. de 45, 52, 153 Overbeck, F. 227, 234
Lallemand, A. 108
Lampe, P. 178, 221, 265 Pervo, R. I. 2, 164, 228, 248
Lane, W. L. 83 Powell, D. 47
Langmuir, G. 80 Prestige, G. L. 12
Lawlor, H. J. 48
Leer, E. F.-V. 23, 24, 30, 31 Quasten, J. 29
Levison, J. R. 75 Quispel, G. 1
Lieu, J. M. 79, 123
Lindemann, A. 228, 232 Rabens, V. 74
Longenecker, B. W. 219, 220, 251, 252 Raditsa, L. 198, 206, 207
Luckensmeyer, D. 83 Rambaux, C. 132, 134, 142, 240
Rankin, D. I. 47, 52, 128, 136, 150–52, 154
MacDonald, D. R. 156, 158 Rawson, B. 159
MacDonald, M. Y. 130, 135, 136, 157–60, Reed, A. Y. 85
164 Refoulé, R. F. 34
Malina, B. 219 Reitzenstein, F. 88
Markus, R. A. 11, 12 Remus, H. 86
320 Index of Modern Authors
Robeck, C. M. Jr. 49, 131, 154, 155 Ter Brugge, A. D. 49

Roetzel, C. J. 122, 228, 235, 248, 249, 282, Theissen, G. 129
283 Thrall, M. E. 41
Rokéah, D. 81, 86 Thurston, B. B. 151, 152, 264
Rowe, C. K. 19 Tomson, P. J. 81
Ruether, R. R. 80 Torjeson, K. J. 139, 140, 150, 151
Tränkle, H. 87
Sanders, J. T. 82 Treier, D. J. 20
Scheidel, J. T. 219 Trevett, C. 46, 152–55, 259
Schirrmacher, T. 132 Turcan, M. 133, 134
Schlegel, B. D. 107
Schmid, U. 229, 242, 243 Vaage, L. E. 157
Schoeps, H. J. 227 Van Beek, C. J. M. J. 105
Scholer, D. M. 33, 92 van der Lof, L. J. 48
Schöllgen, G. 141, 142, 144–46 von Balthasar, H. U. 63
Schreckenberg, H. 87 Vouga, F. 244
Schweizer, E. 165
Shaw, B. D. 55, 155 Wagner, J. R. 101
Sider, R. D. 2, 17, 18, 22, 23, 31, 33, 34, 41, Wall, R. W. 83
42, 93, 111, 122, 127–30, 143, 225, 231, Wan, S.-K. 222
236, 256 Waszink, J. H. 3, 25, 26, 30, 196, 197
Siker, S. J. 85 Watson, F. 81
Simon, M. 80 Watson, F. B. 19
Simonetti, M. 1 Webb, R. 231
Skarsaune, O. 86 Weinandy, T. G. 70
Spanneut, M. 128 Weinrich, W. C. 107, 116
Steenberg, M. C. 51 Welborn, L. L. 40
Stendahl, K. 2 Westerholm, S. 284
Stewart-Sykes, A. 46 Whitmarsh, T. 36
Still, T. D. 219, 246, 249, 282 Wilhite, D. 48, 49, 55, 104
Stirnmann, J. K. 34 Wilk, F. 101
Stücklin, C. 135, 136 Williams, D. H. 267
Stylianopoulos, T. 86 Wilson, S. G. 83, 88, 89
Wimbush, V. L. 157
Tabbernee, W. 46–49, 55, 117, 128, 131, Wire, A. C. 152, 162, 163
136, 140, 146, 149, 151, 153–55, 259, 261, Witherington, B. 279
265, 269, 282 Wright, N. T. 101, 190
Telfer, W. 168

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TERTULLIAN AND PAUL

N E W YOR K • LON DON • N E W DE L H I • SY DN EY

175 Fifth Avenue 50 Bedford Square

First published 2013

© Todd D. Still and David E. Wilhite and contributors, 2013

No responsibility for loss caused to any individual or organization acting on or refraining

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Typeset by Forthcoming Publications Ltd (www forthpub.com)

August 14, 1979 — January 11, 2012

INTRODUCTION: READING TERTULLIAN READING PAUL

2. TERTULLIAN, SCRIPTURE, RULE OF FAITH, AND PAUL

3. THE SPIRIT OF PROPHECY:

4. TERTULLIAN, PAUL, AND THE NATION OF ISRAEL

5. THE JUSTIFICATION OF THE MARTYRS

6. STATUS FEMINAE: TERTULLIAN AND THE USES OF PAUL

A RESPONSE TO ELIZABETH A. CLARK’S ESSAY,

7. TERTULLIAN ON THE ROLE OF THE BISHOP

8. TERTULLIAN AND PAUL: THE WEALTH OF CHRISTIANS

9. COMMUNIS MAGISTER PAULUS: ALTERCATION OVER

10. THE WORLD TO COME:

AFTERWORD: TERTULLIAN AND PAULINE STUDIES

We have accrued many debts in the production of this volume, and a

BEN WITHERINGTON, III

1. Helpful introductions include Manlio Simonetti, Biblical Interpretation in the

After having submitted my essay to Bruce Longenecker and Kelly

3. Bruce Longenecker and Kelly Liebengood, eds., Engaging Economics: New

6. See Jean-Claude Fredouille, Tertullien et la conversion de la culture antique

Tertullian’s theological contribution emerges in his disputes with other

Reading Tertullian with an Eye on Paul

Candida Moss argues that Tertullian’s view of martyrdom stems

The responses to these essays from New Testament scholars vary

1. Gilles Quispel, “African Christianity before Minucius Felix and Tertullian,” in

Paul and Tertullian

7. See more broadly J. H. Waszink, “Tertullian’s Principles and Methods of

Tertullian’s most fully developed discussion of the nature of the triune

The Creator’s Christ: Tertullian on Paul and Marcion

8. See further Andrew B. McGowan, “Tertullian and the ‘Heretical’ Origins of

not considering Paul’s text in its own right so much as confronting

The explicitly Trinitarian element in the treatise is not great, however,

Tertullian goes out of his way to point to this notion of “economy” as a

is ¿rst and foremost the way Tertullian describes the arrangement or

13. Eric F. Osborn, Tertullian, First Theologian of the West (Cambridge:

Tertullian’s account of the divine history in Against Praxeas with its

The Economy of God

“mysteries of God,” 1 Cor 4:1–2) to a few cases where its implications

This passage could perhaps be seen as more closely connected to later

These texts in particular became the basis for a tradition of early

Paul, Tertullian, and the Rule of Faith

22. Translation my own, from CCSL.

23. Osborn, Tertullian, 121.

Reception history is one of the hip things happening in biblical studies at

1. My previous contribution to this area is Michael F. Bird and Joseph R.

superiority of pre-critical exegesis. Writers such as Tertullian were not

6. Sider, “Figure of Paul in Tertullian,” 113.

McGowan appears to have arrived at a defensible conclusion: “Tertul-

9. Cf. Francis B. Watson, “The Triune Divine Identity: ReÀections on Pauline

an oral-creedal tradition appears to trump Scripture, that is only because

Tertullian on the Rule of Faith

wording, because it was the statement of the faith confessed at baptism,

Tertullian on Forestalling False Teachers