Having received the spirit through this initiation, each member of Marcus’s circle believed that he or she shared “the gift of prophecy.” When they would gather to celebrate the sacred meal, the eucharist, Irenaeus says that “all of them [were] accustomed to cast lots.” Thus they followed an ancient Israelite practice, which, as Luke says in Acts, Christians revived, of throwing lots in order to invite the holy spirit to show, by the way the lots fell, whom the spirit chose to offer that day’s prophecy.51
As Irenaeus tells it—perhaps adding details for the sake of sensation—Marcus claimed that divine truth had revealed itself to him naked, “in feminine form, having descended upon him from invisible and ineffable space, for the world could not have borne [the truth] coming in masculine form.”52 According to Irenaeus, Marcus said that she revealed herself through letters and numbers, each part of her body adorned with one of the twenty-four letters of the Greek alphabet; and she spoke the mystical name “Christ Jesus.”53 The letters and numbers in which Marcus received his vision reflected Jewish traditions known to followers of his spiritual teacher, Valentinus, who claimed to be initiated into Paul’s secret wisdom teaching. Similar traditions would flower, more than a thousand years later, among mystically inclined Jewish groups, who would call them kabbalah.
Although the Hebrew term simply means “tradition,” kabbalah radically transforms tradition. The late Gershom Scholem, professor of Jewish mysticism at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, far more sympathetic to Marcus than Irenaeus was, explained that those who take the path of kabbalah seek to know God “not through dogmatic theology but through living experience and intuition.”54 Like other Jews, kabbalists interpret the Scriptures; but in their hands the Scriptures become the language of spiritual exploration. Like kabbalists more than a thousand years later, Marcus asked, How can we speak of what is ineffable? How can the invisible, incomprehensible God become manifest? Marcus’s vision suggests that the whole alphabet—all of human speech—can become a mystical form of divine truth—a conviction that many kabbalists would share.
Like many others, Marcus was fascinated with Genesis, as he wondered what happened “in the beginning”—and even before the beginning—of the universe. And like the authors of Thomas and John, Marcus interpreted Genesis 1, and suggested that “when first the unbegotten, inconceivable father, who is neither male nor female, willed to bring forth . . . he opened his mouth and spoke the word” (logos).55 Marcus explained that, as he envisioned this process, each separate letter that God spoke at first recognized neither its own nature nor that of the others, for “while every one of them is part of the whole, each one imagines its own sound to be the whole name” of the divine being. Yet, Marcus continued, “the restoration of all things will take place” only when this illusion of separateness is overcome, and “all these [elements], mingling into one sound, shall join unanimously” in the same song of praise.56 For the universe itself came forth from “the glory of that sound of praise.” Marcus believed that this is something everyone knows intuitively, and acknowledges from the first cry a newborn utters emerging from the womb to those moments of anguish when a person moans or cries out “in difficulty and distress . . . saying ‘oh.’ ”57 Such sounds, Marcus said, echo the divine name, which, he believed, people instinctively—even unconsciously—utter in the form of spontaneous prayer for divine help. And when people join their voices together in worship to chant “Amen” (Hebrew for “May it be so”), their unanimous voice anticipates how all that exists finally shall be restored into a single, harmonious whole.
Irenaeus says that he tried hard, at a friend’s request, to investigate Marcus’s teaching in order to expose him as an interloper and a fraud. For by attracting disciples, performing initiations, and offering special teachings to “spiritual” Christians, Marcus’s activity threatened Irenaeus’s effort to unify all Christians in the area into a homogenous church. Irenaeus charged that Marcus was a magician, “the herald of Antichrist”—a man whose made-up visions and pretense to spiritual power masked his true identity as Satan’s own apostle.58 He ridiculed Marcus’s claims to investigate “the deep things of God” and mocked him for urging initiates to seek revelations of their own:
While they say such things as these about the creation, every one of them generates something new every day, according to his ability; for no one is considered “mature” [or “initiated”] among them who does not develop some enormous lies.59
Irenaeus expresses dismay that many other teachers, too, within Christian communities, “introduce an indescribable number of secret and illegitimate writings, which they themselves have forged, to bewilder the minds of foolish people, who are ignorant of the true scriptures.”60 He quotes some of their writings, including part of a well-known and influential text called the Secret Book of John (discovered among the so-called gnostic gospels at Nag Hammadi in 1945), and he refers to many others, including a Gospel of Truth (perhaps the one discovered at Nag Hammadi), which he attributes to Marcus’s teacher, Valentinus, and even a Gospel of Judas. Irenaeus decided that stemming this flood of “secret writings” would be an essential first step toward limiting the proliferation of “revelations” that he suspected of being only delusional or, worse, demonically inspired.61
Yet the discoveries at Nag Hammadi show how widespread was the attempt “to seek God”—not only among those who wrote such “secret writings” but among the many more who read, copied, and revered them, including the Egyptian monks who treasured them in their monastery library even two hundred years after Irenaeus had denounced them. But in 367 C.E., Athanasius, the zealous bishop of Alexandria—an admirer of Irenaeus—issued an Easter letter in which he demanded that Egyptian monks destroy all such writings, except for those he specifically listed as “acceptable,” even “canonical”—a list that constitutes virtually all of our present “New Testament.”62 But someone—perhaps monks at the monastery of St. Pachomius—gathered dozens of the books Athanasius wanted to burn, removed them from the monastery library, sealed them in a heavy, six-foot jar, and intending to hide them, buried them on a nearby hillside near Nag Hammadi. There an Egyptian villager named Mu.hammad ‘Al¯ž stumbled upon them sixteen hundred years later.
Now that we can read for ourselves some of the writings that Irenaeus detested and Athanasius banned, we can see that many of them express the hope of receiving revelation, and encourage “those who seek for God.” The author of the Secret Book of James, for example, reinterprets the opening scene we noted from the New Testament Acts, in which Luke tells how Jesus ascended into heaven and departed. The Secret Book, apparently written as a sequel to that scene, opens as James, Jesus’ brother, offers to reveal in this book what happened after Jesus “departed from us while we gazed after him.”63 After that, he says, the twelve disciples were all sitting together and recalling what the Savior had said to each one of them, either secretly or openly, and putting it into books, and I was writing what is in my book.64
But the Secret Book says that Jesus astonished his disciples by suddenly coming back—a year and a half after he had departed—and explained that he had not actually removed himself from his disciples:
Lo, the Savior appeared. . . . And five hundred and fifty days since he had risen from the dead, we said to him, “Have you departed and removed yourself from us?” But Jesus said, “No; but I go to the place whence I came. If you wish to come with me, come!”65
According to the Secret Book, Jesus then invited James and Peter to travel with him to heaven, perhaps in the kind of ecstatic trance that John of Patmos said he experienced before he wrote the book of Revelation. First Jesus separated them from the others and privately explained that they could join him not only after death but also here and now, by becoming “full of the spirit.”66 But instead of urging his disciples simply to follow him, here Jesus encourages them to surpass him. He explains that those who suffer and overcome the fear of death may “become better than I; make yourselves like the son of the Ho
ly Spirit! Be zealous, and if possible, arrive [in heaven] even before I do.”67 As the Secret Book concludes, James tells how Peter and I gave thanks, and sent our hearts upward toward heaven. We heard with our ears, and saw with our eyes, the noise of war, trumpets blaring and a great turmoil. And when we had passed beyond that place, we sent our minds farther upwards, and saw with our eyes and heard with our ears . . . angels rejoicing, as we, too, rejoiced.68
Many other Christians who sought revelation—and may even have hoped to ascend into heaven during their lifetime—took Paul, naturally enough, as their patron apostle. The author of the Prayer of the Apostle Paul, discovered at Nag Hammadi, is one of many to recall what Paul wrote in his letter to Christians in Corinth about his own “visions and revelations of the Lord,” especially the famous episode in which Paul says he was caught up into the third heaven—whether in the body or out of the body, I do not know; God knows. . . . I heard things that are not to be spoken, that no mortal is allowed to speak.69
The author of the Prayer of the Apostle Paul, then, takes Paul as the paradigm of “those who seek for God” and articulates the longing to enter into God’s presence, as Paul had:
My redeemer, redeem me, for I am yours, one who has come forth from you. You are my mind; bring me forth. You are my treasure; open to me. You are my fulfillment; join me to you!70
Finally, echoing what Paul writes in his first letter to the Corinthians, the prayer concludes, “Grant what no angel’s eye has seen and what no ruling power’s ear has heard, and what has not entered into the human heart . . . since I have faith and hope.”71
Those who wrote, translated, and carefully copied works such as the Secret Book of James and the Prayer of the Apostle Paul may have known about techniques that certain Jewish groups used to induce a state of ecstasy and invoke visions. For example, one group of Jewish ascetics living in Egypt at the time of Jesus, called the Therapeutae, practiced a rigorous regimen of prayer, celibacy, fasting, and singing to prepare themselves to receive “the vision of God.” Some of the Dead Sea Scrolls also offer prayers and rituals apparently intended to help the devout enter God’s presence and join in worship with angels.72
We do not know precisely what was meant by “the vision of God.” Different people probably conceived it differently. Some scholars take this phrase to mean that such people sought to experience God’s presence through ecstatic trance.73 Paul’s account of his own ascent into Paradise suggests that this happened to him, although, as we noted, he claims that his vision occurred spontaneously and admits that “whether in the body or out of the body, I do not know; God knows.”74 Other scholars, however, point out that those who say they are seeking a vision of God may be referring to what happens in devotional practices and worship.75 For to this day many Jews and Christians use mystical language in worship services every week—or even every day—at a culminating moment understood to unite the human congregation with the angels, as they join in singing what the prophet Isaiah says angels sing in heaven: “Holy, holy, holy; Lord God almighty; heaven and earth are full of your glory.” Isaiah says that he heard this song when he himself received a vision and was taken into God’s presence.76
Scholars of Jewish history and literature are also investigating an enormous wealth of mystical literature that flourished for about a thousand years preceding kabbalah. Some of these so-called hekalot texts focus upon the figure of Enoch, who, according to Genesis, “walked with God” and, without dying, was taken up into God’s presence.77 Even before the first century B.C.E., Enoch had become a paradigm for those seeking access to heavenly wisdom.78 Other groups of Jews were devoted to the so-called Merkabah (chariot) literature, which thrived from the second century through the sixth. These writings emerged from Jewish teachers and their disciples who tried to act upon hints they found in the prophet Ezekiel’s marvelous vision of God enthroned upon a chariot shining like fire, borne by winged cherubim, and praised by the angelic host.79
Some of those who described visions like the ones found in the Secret Book of James seem to imply that they themselves, like the prophets Isaiah and Ezekiel, received such visions. Some of the books discovered at Nag Hammadi offer specific techniques for invoking revelations; others suggest that such techniques did not always work. The Apocalypse of Peter, for example, tells how Peter saw people running toward him and his fellow apostles, threatening them with stones “as if they would kill us.” Peter immediately appealed to the risen Jesus—probably in prayer—who told his terrified disciple to “put your hands over your eyes, and tell what you see.” But when I had done it, I did not see anything. I said, “No one sees [this way].” Again he told me, “Do it again.” And there came into me fear and joy, for I saw a new light, greater than the light of day.80
During a moment suspended in time, while Peter hears the crowd shouting, he is shocked to see a vision of Jesus being crucified. After he cries out in fear and anguish, Peter learns from the “living Jesus” that what is spiritual cannot die. Finally, an astonished Peter sees a vision of Jesus “glad and laughing on the cross . . . and he was filled with a holy spirit . . . and there was a great, ineffable light around them, and a multitude of ineffable and invisible angels blessing them.”81 The anonymous author of the Apocalypse of Peter says that this vision encouraged Peter to face his own death with equanimity, knowing that the spirit within him may overcome death, as those facing persecution in later generations might do as well.
But how are visions received, and which are divinely inspired? Practically speaking, who is to judge? This central—and perplexing—question is what Christians since ancient times have called the problem of discerning spirits: how to tell which apparent inspirations come from God, which from the power of evil, and which from an overheated imagination. Although most people at the time—Jews, pagans, and Christians alike—assumed that the divine reveals itself in dreams, many people then, as now, recognized that dreams may also express only wishes and hopes, and that some may lead to fatal delusions. We have seen that Irenaeus recognized God’s power in certain prophets, healers, and teachers, perhaps especially in those whose teaching agreed with what many Christians accepted in common. In others, however, he saw Satan at work—for example, in the case of Marcus, whom he called “Satan’s apostle” and accused of inventing visions in order to deceive his followers and to exploit them for sexual favors and money.
In the Gospel of Mary Magdalene, discovered in Egypt in 1896, the apostles Andrew and Peter raise the same questions that troubled Irenaeus—but this time we hear a response from the visionary’s point of view. The Gospel of Mary dramatizes how certain group leaders—here represented by the apostles Peter and Andrew—sometimes attacked and denounced those who claimed to see visions. Although the opening is lost, what we have of the Gospel of Mary begins with a vision in which the risen Jesus tells his disciples, “The Son of Man is within you. Follow after him! Those who seek him will find him. Go, then, and preach the gospel of the kingdom.” Yet most of the disciples, apparently at a loss to find the divine within themselves, “were grieved, and wept greatly,” terrified that they would be killed as Jesus was. Then Mary stood up, spoke, and “turned their hearts to the good”:
Do not weep, and do not grieve nor be afraid, for his grace will be with you completely, and will protect you. But rather let us praise his greatness, for he has prepared us, and has turned us into human beings.82
Then Peter says to Mary: “Sister, we know that the Savior loved you more than the rest of women. Tell us the words of the Savior which you remember—which you know but we do not, nor have we heard them.”83 Peter apparently expects to hear things that Jesus had said at times when he himself was absent. But Mary startles Peter by saying that she knows not only what Peter did not happen to hear but also what Jesus chose not to tell him: “What is hidden from you I will tell you.” So, she continues, “I saw the Lord today in a vision,” and she says that she was so astonished that she immediately asked him how visions occur:
“How does one who sees the vision see it—through the soul, or through the spirit?” The Savior answered and said, “One does not see through the soul, nor through the spirit, but the mind which is between the two: that is what sees the vision.”84
After hearing that visions come through the mind, or consciousness, Mary turns her attention to what the vision shows her. At this crucial point the papyrus text is broken, and much is lost; what remains is a fragment in which, as in the Dialogue of the Savior, Jesus reveals what happens after death. He explains that the soul encounters “seven powers of wrath,” which challenge it, saying, “Whence do you come, killer of humans, and where are you going, conqueror of space?” Through this vision, Jesus teaches the soul how to respond, so that it may overcome these hostile powers.
When Mary stops speaking, an argument breaks out:
When Mary had said this, she fell silent, since it was to this point that the Savior had spoken with her. But Andrew answered and said to the brethren, “Say what you will about what she has said. I, at least, do not believe that the Savior said this, for certainly these teachings are strange ideas.”85
Andrew’s brother Peter adds: “Did he really speak with a woman without our knowledge, and not openly? Are we supposed to turn and listen to her? Did he love her more than us?”
Then Mary wept, and said to Peter, “My brother Peter, what do you think? Do you think that I made this up myself in my heart, or that I am lying about the Savior?” Levi answered and said to Peter, “Peter, you have always been hot tempered. Now I see you contending against the woman as our enemies do. But if the Savior made her worthy, who are you, indeed, to reject her? Surely the Savior knows her very well. That is why he loved her more than us. Rather, let us be ashamed, and . . . preach the gospel.”86
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