A Second-Century Christian Inscription from the Via Latina

Access Provided by Davidson College Library at 06/27/11 9:34AM GMT A Second-Century Christian Inscription from the Via Latina H. GREGORY SNYDER This article treats an early Christian inscription held in the Capitoline Museum known as NCE 156. Existing arguments for an Antonine date (138–192 c.e.) are reconsidered and strengthened. Earlier studies of the inscription have convincingly demonstrated its Christian character and this paper extends that discussion still further. However, arguments for the Christian character of the inscription have elided its debt to an established body of Hellenistic funeral poetry. An ancient reader would surely have sensed connections between this inscription and the extensive corpus of epigrams in which the language of marriage and death are intertwined. Given this literary context, NCE 156 should probably be understood as a funerary epigram for a Valentinian Christian, not as a baptismal inscription. But if the Antonine date is accepted, NCE 156 is one of the very oldest Christian material artifacts, older even than the Abercius inscription. Discovered on the Via Latina, an inscription now going under the name NCE 156 entered the collection at the Capitoline Museum at an undetermined date.1 In the early literature it was given the number inv. epigr. 2276; it has been recently re-catalogued as NCE (Nuovo Catalogo Epigrafico) 156, under which number it was listed as of 2009.2 Originally displayed in the underground passage between the Capitoline Museum and the Tabularium, it appears to have gone into indefinite storage. I am grateful to Keyne Cheshire, Nicola Denzey Lewis, Carlos Galvao-Sobinho, Trent Foley, and two reviewers at JECS for their contributions to this article. 1. The exact find-site is unknown as is the date of its excavation. In “Valentiniani a Roma: ricerche epigrafiche ed archeologiche,” Römische Mitteilungen 80 (1973): 169, Margherita Guarducci refers to a tracing of the stone bearing a penciled annotation saying only, “Via Latina probabilmente Tor Fiscale.” The medieval tower of Tor Fiscale stands at Mile IV of the Via Latina, but in excavation reports, any place between Mile III and Mile V can be referred to as in the neighborhood of Tor Fiscale. 2. My thanks to Daniela Velestino at the Capitoline Museum for this clarification and for conversation regarding the inscription. Journal of Early Christian Studies 19:2, 157–195 © 2011 The Johns Hopkins University Press 158 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES Estimates of its date have varied between the first and fourth centuries c.e. Luigi Moretti, the first editor, who did not entertain the possibility that the stone might have a Christian valence, assigned it to the first or second century c.e.3 Jeanne and Louis Robert cite Moretti’s judgment, but leaned, it seems, towards a later date.4 Mariano Raoss does not take a firm stand on the date but ends his article by saying that nothing stands in the way of the early date assigned by Moretti.5 Based upon detailed paleographical arguments, Margherita Guarducci placed it in the Antonine period.6 Angelo Coppo also places the inscription in the second century.7 Peter Lampe, who bases his reconstruction of a Valentinian community on the Via Latina largely on this inscription and on that of Flavia Sophe, also follows Guarducci in accepting the Antonine date of NCE 156.8 As to the nature of the inscription, it is generally held to commemorate a ritual of Christian baptism.9 Others have raised dissenting voices with regard to important aspects of NCE 156. In a recent article, Paul McKechnie has questioned the Antonine date, preferring to situate it in the fourth century.10 Clemens Scholten wonders whether the inscription is even Christian and sharply criticizes Peter Lampe for using the Flavia Sophe inscription and NCE 156 to construct a social-historical account of Valentinian Christianity in Rome.11 Schol- 3. Luigi Moretti, “Iscrizioni greche inedite di Roma,” Bullettino della commissione archeologica comunale di Roma 75 (1953–55): 83: “Lettere ben curate, probabilmente del I–II d.C.” 4. Jeanne and Louis Robert, Revue des études grecques 71 (1958): 359–60 (= Bulletin épigraphique, n. 554): “ces hautes lettres étroites peuvent aussi bien être du IIIe siècle ou plus tardives.” 5. Mariano Raoss, “Iscrizione cristiana-greca di Roma anteriore al terzo secolo?,” Aevum 37 (1963): 30. 6. Margherita Guarducci, “Iscrizione cristiana del II secolo nei Musei Capitolini,” in Bullettino della commissione archeologica comunale di Roma 79 (1963–64): 117–34, followed by “Valentiniani a Roma,” and “Ancora sui valentiniani a Roma,” Römische Mitteilungen 81 (1974): 341–43. 7. Angelo Coppo, “Contributo all’interpretazione di un’epigrafe greca cristiana dei Musei Capitolini,” Rivista di archeologia cristiana 46 (1970): 138. 8. Peter Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries, trans. Michael Steinhauser, ed. Marshall Johnson (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2003), 299–300. 9. First suggested by the Roberts, Revue des études grecques, 359. 10. McKechnie, “Flavia Sophe in Context,” ZPE 135 (2001): 117–24. 11. Clemens Scholten, “Gibt es Quellen zur Sozialgeschichte der Valentinianer Roms?,” ZNW 79 (1988): 244–61. Scholten is reacting to Lampe’s original treatment of the inscriptions in Die stadtrömischen Christen in den ersten beiden Jahrhunderten (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr [Paul Siebeck], 1987). SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 159 ten believes that NCE 156 is more likely to be a wedding inscription with no particular religious significance.12 He does not, however, provide any examples of such an inscription, and in later work, Lampe significantly expands his argument, showing that a Valentinian Christian interpretation remains the most likely of possible readings.13 Scholten’s skepticism is salutary, however, as it invites a reconsideration of NCE 156 within the context of Greek sepulchral poetry. I suggest that while the people who commissioned and displayed this inscription were indeed Christians with Valentinian tendencies, they were fully aware of the conventions of Greek funeral epigrams and crafted this inscription in light of these conventions. I will argue that the inscription is best understood as a funeral epigram commemorating the death of a Valentinian Christian, not as a “baptismal inscription.” CONTENT AND DATE It will be useful to have the actual object in view (see Fig. 1). A number of transcriptions of the stone have been put forward and it would be ponderous to cover them all.14 For present purposes, Guarducci’s and Lampe’s will suffice. Guarducci’s reconstruction of the Greek goes as follows: [λου]τρὰ δ᾽ἐμοὶ παστῶν δᾳδουχοῦσιν συν≥ [ . . . ], [εἰλ]απίνας πεινοῦσιν ἐν ἡμετέρο[ισι δόμοισι], [ὑμ]νοῦντες γενέτην καὶ υἱέα δοξάζον[τες], [σι]γῆς ἔνθα μόνης καὶ ἀληθείης ῥύ[σις ἐστίν].15 12. Scholten, “Gibt es Quellen,” 253: “Daher ist eine valentinianische Herkunft in hohem Maße unwahrscheinlich und so gut wie auszuschließen. Nicht einmal ein christlicher Sinn ist sicher. Die Deutung als profane Hochzeitsinschrift erscheint angemessen.” Moretti, “Iscrizioni greche,” 84, was the first to label it as wedding inscription, though admitting its very unusual character as such: “Si tratta evidentemente di un carme di argomento nuziale, di un genere tuttavia piuttosto insolito.” 13. Peter Lampe, “An Early Christian Inscription in the Musei Capitolini,” in Mighty Minorities? Minorities in Early Christianity, Positions and Strategies; Essays in Honour of Jacob Jervell on his 70th Birthday, ed. D. Hellholm, H. Moxnes, and T. Seim (Oslo: Scandinavian University Press, 1995), 79–92, largely reprinted in Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus, 300–307. 14. Editio princeps by Moretti; no changes suggested by J. and L. Robert; a few alterations by Raoss, Guarducci, and Coppo in the articles mentioned above. 15. This transcription represents her final version of the inscription proposed in “Ancora sui valentiniani,” 341; it incorporates a slight change (αὐγῆς to σιγῆς) in the fourth line from her earlier version in “Valentiniani a Roma,” 181. 160 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES Figure 1. NCE 156 (courtesy of the Photographic Archive at the Capitoline Museum, Rome). She translates as follows: For me, the brothers of the bridal chamber celebrate with torches the (baptismal) baths; they hunger for the (eucharistic) banquets in our homes; praising the Father and glorifying the Son, whence the flow of solitary Silence and of Truth.16 Lampe restores as follows, marking the feet of the hexameter line: λουτρὰ δ᾽ἐμ|οὶ πασ|τῶν δᾳ|δουχοῦ|σιν συνά|δελφοι εἰλαπίν|ας πει|νοῦσιν ἐν | ἡμετέ|ροισι δό|μοισι ὑμνοῦν|τες γενέ|την καὶ | υἱέα δοξά|ζοντες πηγῆς | ἔνθα μό|νης καὶ ἀ|ληθεί|ης ῥύσις | εἴη.17 16. My translation of Guarducci’s Italian, which reads: “A me i fratelli delle camere nuziali celebrano alla luce delle fiaccole i lavacri (battesimali); bramano i conviti (eucaristici) nelle nostre case, inneggiando al Padre e glorificando il Figlio, donde è il flusso di Sige solitaria e di Aletheia” (“Ancora sui valentiniani,” 343). 17. Lampe, Paul to Valentinus, 298. Lampe’s restoration of πηγῆς in the last line may go back to Guarducci’s 1963 article, “Iscrizione cristiana,” 118. In “Valentiniani a Roma,” 181, written in 1973, she suggested αὐγῆς, but then settled finally on σιγῆς (“Ancora sui Valentiniani,” 341). SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 161 Lampe (in Steinhauser’s English translation) reads as follows: Co-brothers of the bridal chambers, celebrate with torches the baths for me; they hunger for banquets in our rooms, lauding the Father, and praising the Son; oh, may there be flowing of the only spring and of the truth in that very place.18 Both Guarducci and Lampe have made extensive arguments for the Valentinian character of NCE 156, based chiefly upon the sacramental importance of the term “bridal chamber” for Valentinian Christians.19 I believe the case for reading the inscription in this way remains compelling even though certain points of the argument need reexamination. Before revisiting these arguments in light of Greek funeral epigrams, let us consider the dating of the inscription. Guarducci’s case for the dating of NCE 156 relies on quite specific paleographic considerations, which may now be strengthened in light of several developments.20 First, while a great many of the inscriptions that eventually appeared in Inscriptiones graecae urbis Romae were examined by Guarducci, these volumes were not yet published at the time of her initial paper.21 The collection is especially useful because it includes photographs of many of the inscriptions, which allows for independent confirmation of her results.22 Moreover, further discoveries and publications have expanded the number of inscriptions that bear on the question. Guarducci’s case rests on the archaizing letterforms of epsilon, ksi, sigma, rho, and omega, found in the inscription, forms that were commonly used in Greek inscriptions during the classical age. These lettering styles receded behind lunate forms during the Hellenistic age, appearing 18. I have omitted Lampe’s parentheses and Greek words. The English translation of Lampe’s German in Paul to Valentinus, makes it seem as if Lampe translates δᾳδουχέω as an imperative, not an indicative. In the original, Lampe’s first line runs: “Bäder—oder: Brautbetten/Ruhelager—erleuchten/zelebrieren mir mit Fackeln die Mit(brüder) der Brautgemächer” (Die stadtrömischen Christen, 258). 19. Lampe, Paul to Valentinus, 298–307; Guarducci, in “Valentiniani a Roma,” 172–75, and in “Ancora sui Valentiniani.” 20. As the author of many standard works on Greek epigraphy, Guarducci is uniquely qualified to make such an investigation. 21. Guarducci’s arguments for an Antonine date first appeared in “Iscrizione cristiana,” published in 1963–64. Inscriptiones graecae urbis Romae (= IGUR), ed. Luigi Moretti, was published in 1968. 22. Older collections such as Inscriptiones graecae, ed. Kaibel, register different styles of letters typographically, but the photographs in IGUR make for better comparison. 162 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES again during the first century c.e., persisting through the reign of Hadrian and Antoninus Pius, and then falling into disuse thereafter. The difficulty of dating inscriptions based on style has often been noted.23 Nevertheless, the relatively narrow window of time during which these particular letterforms were in use allows for more than normal confidence where dating is concerned. Within the set of Greek inscriptions exhibiting classical forms (i.e. nonlunate) of epsilon and sigma, Guarducci sought out inscriptions featuring the archaic form of ksi found in NCE 156. Within this group of inscriptions, she finds eleven instances of Roman inscriptions datable to the first or second centuries c.e.24 Within this same set of inscriptions (classical epsilon and sigma), she also finds examples of the classically formed, nonlunate rho and omega with the descending strokes turned under, a form observed in NCE 156 (the omega in παστῶν and the rho in ῥύσις and in ἡμετέροισι).25 So it becomes evident that other Roman inscriptions with the same letterforms as 156 NCE cluster in the first and second centuries. Nevertheless, the opposite side of the question remains open: can it be stated with confidence that inscriptions with lettering like that of NCE 156 are not found in periods later than the second century? Guarducci asserts that such cases are “few in number” and “quite exceptional.”26 Careful inspection of the 1705 inscriptions in Inscriptiones graecae urbis Romae quantifies and confirms this claim. Screening IGUR for inscriptions featuring classical epsilon, sigma, and omega, I find a total of fifty-three cases. The letter ksi being relatively infrequent compared to epsilon, sigma, and omega, forty-five of these fifty-nine do not contain a ksi.27 Eight of the 23. “An exceedingly blunt instrument,” according to John Bodel, Epigraphic Evidence (London: Routledge, 2001), 38. 24. From Inscriptiones graecae (ed. Kaibel) 14: 1003, 1052 (154 c.e.), 1098a (two separate fragments), 1183, 1188, 1549 (= Werner Peek, Griechische Vers-Inschriften. I. Grab-Epigramme [Berlin, 1955; repr. Chicago: Ares, 1988], 1546), 1857, 1882, 2012 A (94 c.e.), 2015. 25. Guarducci, “Iscrizione cristiana,” 129–31. 26. “There are a great many inscriptions from the age of Hadrian that show Ε and Σ [i.e. the classical, non-lunate forms]. Vice versa, very few in number and therefore quite exceptional, are the appearances of Ε and Σ in epigraphs from the third and fourth centuries” (“Iscrizione cristiana,” 128). As an example, she points to an inscription from 298 c.e. in De Rossi, Inscriptiones christianae urbis Romae, 1:27 n. 23. 27. All centuries are c.e. unless stated otherwise. Classical (non-lunate) epsilon, sigma, and omega, no ksi preserved in text: IGUR 15 (first cent.), 17 (first cent. b.c.e.–first cent. c.e.), 21 (first cent.), 27 (Antonine), 71 (Augustan; for photo, see addendum to IGUR), 130, 162 (163 c.e.), 164 (“saec. II exeuntis vel III ineuntis”), 183 (second cent.), 213 (first cent.), 216, 231 (first-second cent.), 233 (second cent.), SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 163 remaining fourteen contain the three-barred, vertical-line ksi found in NCE 156.28 The remaining six feature a ksi with an inclined vertical stroke or some alternative form.29 Luigi Moretti, the editor of IGUR, or the editors of the collections from which they were originally drawn, date twenty-five of these fifty-nine. Twenty-three of the twenty-five fall within the first or second century; two are judged as from the end of the second or beginning of the third century (IGUR 164 and 1526). Of the 1705 inscriptions from IGUR, not one case is to be found in which, in the judgment of the editors, an inscription with the classical letter forms found in NCE 156 can be securely placed in the mid-third or fourth century. Of course, the judgments of Kaibel, Peek, Huelsen, Moretti, and other paleographers in assigning dates is not infallible, even though it is usually deemed possible to decide whether a given inscription bears an early imperial date (first and second centuries) or is better situated in the late antique period. In thirtyfour of the cases, the editors have not conjectured a date for the inscription in question, and it is possible that some of these undated inscriptions might be from the fourth century: however, none of them falls within the third or fourth century based on criteria such as identifiable names or events. Inscriptions with lettering like that of NCE 156 fall almost without exception in the first or second centuries. By way of extending slightly the number of relevant inscriptions, we may now include a corpus of inscriptions from Naples, not included by Guarducci or by Moretti in IGUR.30 Many inscriptions ascribed to the first 288 (n.d.), 300, 327 (n.d.), 497 (n.d.; photo in addendum), 504, 541 (n.d.), 558 (n.d.), 563 (n.d.), 582 (n.d.), 598 (Flavia Sophe; see below), 621 (n.d.), 686 (first cent.), 709 (n.d.), 715, 824 (n.d), 876 (Jewish: from via Randanini; n.d.), 993 (n.d.), 995 (n.d.), 1053 (second cent.), 1324 (from a sarcophagus outside of Porta Capena, second cent. according to H. Wrede, Arch. Anz., 1977, 395–41), 1325 (first or second cent., according to Kaibel, Epig. Gr. 581), 1424, 1449 (Peek, GVI 1141; dates to first cent.), 1466 (n.d.), 1491–95 (according to Moretti, “ad initia aetatis imperatoriae”), 1496, 1540 (date unsure), 1549 (n.d.). 28. Non-lunate epsilon, sigma, and omega, three-barred, vertical line ksi (as with NCE 156): 215 (Moretti: first-second cent.), 1194 (first or second cent., according to Kaibel, Epig. Gr. 580), 1247 (Neronian age), 1274 (second cent., according to Kaibel, Epig. Gr.), 1310 (second cent., according to Kaibel, Epig. Gr. 559), 1526 (“litterae saec. II exeuntis vel III”), 1551 (second cent.), 1612 (Tabula Iliaca; first cent.). 29. Non-lunate epsilon, sigma, and omega, three-barred, inclined line ksi: IGUR 24 (140 c.e.), 77 (146 c.e.). Different forms of ksi occur in IGUR 598, 822, 1244, and 1370 (Peek, GVI 663: first cent.). 30. The Naples inscriptions are gathered in Iscrizioni greche d’Italia, edited by Elena Miranda, 2 vols. (Rome: Quasar, 1990–95). I employ her numeration. 164 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES Figure 2. Miranda 47, Iscrizioni greche d’Italia, 1:76; the ξ in question is in the middle of the photograph, in the phrase ΤΑ ΕΞΗΣ (reproduced with the permission of the Soprintendenza Speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Napoli e Pompeii). or second century feature the classical letterforms mentioned above.31 A stone dating to the middle of the second century commemorates a musician by the name of Aelius Antigenides (Fig. 2). It features classical forms of omega, sigma, and epsilon, as well as the horizontal crossbar ksi found in NCE 156. So also with the following inscription datable to 178, 182, or 186 (Fig. 3). 31. E.g., epsilon, sigma, omega, and three-barred ksi with a vertical center stroke: 35 (“late Hellenistic”), 44 (194 c.e.). As before, some examples feature classical forms of epsilon, sigma, and omega, with no surviving, legible ksi: 41 (first-second cent.), 50 (90 c.e.), 52 (170–71 c.e.), 55 (first-second cent. <sc>), 56 (“imperial age”), 60 (“imperial age”), 62 (second-third cent.), 81 (“Augustan”), 88 (end of the second, beginning of the third century), 91 (second half of the second cent.), 133 (first cent.), 142 (first cent. b.c.e.–first cent. c.e.), 144 (second-third cent.). Some fragmentary examples preserve only epsilon and sigma (e.g., 17, 20, 59); 51 (“around 110 c.e.”) has epsilon, sigma, omega, and a ksi with three horizontals and half-diagonal; 64 (“imperial age”) has epsilon, sigma, and three-barred ksi with vertical center stroke, but no surviving omega. SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 165 Figure 3. Miranda 54, Iscrizioni greche d’Italia, 1:94; the ξ is in the next-tolast line of the inscription, in ΦΗΛΙΞ (reproduced with the permission of the Soprintendenza Speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Napoli e Pompeii). There are, of course, inscriptions from this period written with standard lunate letters. However, none of the inscriptions from Naples with archaizing letterforms of Σ, Ε, Ξ, or Ω dates from the fourth century. Only two stray (possibly) into the third century (Miranda 61, 144: second-third century), neither definitively, based on internal criteria. The results from Naples point in the same direction as the Roman evidence: inscriptions featuring these letterforms date almost exclusively from the first or second century. In sum, Guarducci’s case for a second-century date for NCE 156 is stronger than ever. Objections have been raised to a second-century date, based on the assumption that as members of a proscribed cult, Christians would not 166 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES have openly identified themselves.32 This might indeed be true as a general nostrum. It is certainly the case that Christians got into trouble with the government and were in some instances executed for their beliefs, as Justin and Ptolemy could testify. Justin, however, seems to have been relatively unconcerned with concealment, striding about in public wearing his philosopher’s cloak, engaging in public disputations with other philosophers.33 And Ptolemy only came to the notice of the authorities by being entangled in a domestic dispute, not through a general police sweep (2 Apol. 2). Both of these men seem to have presented themselves as philosophers and it may be the case that the Valentinian Christians behind NCE 156 thought of themselves in similar terms, as a philosophical group and not as a religio non licita. Furthermore, as I will argue in what follows, the Christian character of NCE 156 would have been clear to insiders, but not glaringly obvious to someone unfamiliar with the theology of the group who commissioned the inscription. A literate but secular reader of this poem would have recognized in it many of the conventions of Hellenistic funeral poetry. Second, as we shall see, the suburban setting of this area on the Via Latina afforded a certain amount of privacy; perhaps people who could afford to live in this relatively prosperous environment were able to pursue their beliefs and stage their rituals without fear of state interference. Valentinians apparently had no scruples about eating meat connected with pagan sacrifice (Irenaeus, Haer. 1.6.3, 2.14.5), so some Christians, it seems, were able to accommodate themselves to the requirements of state cult in a way that would not have brought them to the attention of the authorities, even if they would have incurred the disdain of Irenaeus or Tertullian. Worshippers of Isis were at various times suppressed, persecuted, and thrown out of Rome. And yet the worship of Isis persisted, finding imperial indulgence if not imperial favor at different points. It appears that sanctuaries to various eastern divinities—Cybele, Astarte, Artemis, Isis, Asclepius, Dionysus, Zeus Bronton, and Mithras—existed along the suburban reaches of the Via Appia, only a few miles away from the Via Latina.34 In the densely populated city of Rome, in the absence 32. “Christians did not identify themselves in inscriptions until it was safe to do so” (McKechnie, “Flavia Sophe in Context,” 123). Though he objects to Guarducci’s dating of NCE 156 on general grounds, he does not come to grips with the paleographical details of her argument. 33. For Justin’s social profile, see H. Gregory Snyder, “‘Above the Baths of Myrtinus’: Justin Martyr’s ‘School’ in the City of Rome,” HTR 100 (2007): 335–62. 34. Remains of these cults are preserved in the Antiquarium at the Villa of the Quintili. See Ricardo Frontoni, Via Appia: The Villa of the Quintili (Milan: Electa, 2000), 57–75. Most of the finds date from the Antonine period. SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 167 of a police force armed with the technology of surveillance and enforcement, with the government generally occupied with other more important matters, we can imagine that some Christians were able to pursue their curious religious preferences with minimal interference. PAGAN AND CHRISTIAN? While the Flavia Sophe inscription, discovered at Mile III on the Via Latina, makes explicit mention of Christ, the Christian character of NCE 156 is somewhat veiled. In his critique of Lampe, Scholten observes that Lampe does not consider whether NCE 156 might be a grave inscription.35 The possibility may seem unlikely, since the inscription is preserved almost in its entirety and there are no obvious sepulchral indicators, such as a name or age of the deceased. Moreover, one might think that nuptial language would be out of place where funerals are concerned.36 But in fact, the wedding imagery found in NCE 156 is ubiquitous in funerary inscriptions and any literate reader coming upon this epigram could hardly have missed the many points of resonance with the vocabulary and conventions of Greek funerary epigrams.37 When, at the suggestion of the Roberts, it became generally accepted that the inscription was Christian, connections with the vocabulary and conventions of sepulchral poetry were simply overlooked. Later studies of the inscription made reference to the writings of John Chrysostom, the Cappadocian fathers, Pectorius of Autun, or Sophronios of Jerusalem, all of which are at significant chronological or spatial remove from NCE 156. The implicit assumption, it seems, is that a Christian inscription would have no recourse to “pagan” vocabulary and concepts.38 In this instance, the dichotomies introduced into scholarly thinking by the terms “pagan” and “Christian” have hampered a full appreciation of the evidence. While it is true that the inscription is 35. Scholten, “Gibt es Quellen,” 253 n. 43: “Die Möglichkeit einer Grabtafel wird nicht ermogen.” Scholten does not pursue the idea. 36. So Lampe, Paul to Valentinus, 307: “an explicit nuptial motif . . . usually is absent in burial contexts.” 37. Moretti, who did not put a Christian interpretation on the inscription, was aware of wedding terminology in funerary inscriptions (“Iscrizioni greche,” 84), citing the article of Adolph Wilhelm, “Aigyptiaka,” in Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien, Philosophisch-historische Klasse, Sitz. 224, bd. 1 (1946): 48–54. See also Richard Lattimore, Themes in Greek and Latin Epitaphs (Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press, 1962), 184–94. 38. The learned and philologically detailed studies of Raoss, Coppo, and Guarducci mentioned above refer chiefly to patristic evidence, make very little use of classical literature and no mention at all of funerary epigrams. 168 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES best understood under a Christian interpretation, there can be no doubt that the author of the inscription works knowingly with and among the conventions of Greek funerary epigrams.39 Imagery connected with rituals of marriage and rituals of death overlap to a surprising extent in funeral poetry: a death bed is substituted for a marriage bed, a tomb for a bedroom, Hades instead of a bridegroom, a funeral procession for a wedding celebration.40 Torches that should have been carried by a joyous band of wedding celebrants now light the mournful path to the grave. Of the dozens of inscriptions that might be produced, the following inscription from Pantikapaion (modern Kerch, Ukraine) amply demonstrates the merging of matrimonial and funeral imagery, torches in particular: I am Theophila, short-lived daughter of Hecateus. The ghosts of the unmarried dead were courting me, a young maiden, for marriage, Hades outstripped the others and seized me, for he desired me, looking upon me as a Persephone more desirable than Persephone. And when he carved the letters on her tombstone, he wept for the girl Theophila from Sinope, her father Hecateus, who composed the wedding torches not for marriage but for Hades. Young Theophila, for you, no wedding, but rather a country of no return; no longer a bride of Menophilus, but a bedmate of Kore. Hecateus, your father, has left to him only a name of one who has died bitterly, he gazes upon a shape of you in stone, and Fate has unlawfully brought his unfulfilled hopes down beneath the ground. The one allotted beauty envied among mortals Theophila, the tenth of the Muses, a Grace for the hour of marriage, the very image of prudence, Hades did not seize you with his swarthy hands, 39. Unless otherwise noted the texts that follow are drawn from Peek, Griechische Vers-Inschriften. In what follows, I cite this edition with “Peek” followed by the number he assigns to the inscription. I have, where possible, checked the texts with the more recent edition of Reinhold Merkelbach and Josef Stauber, Steinepigramme aus dem griechischen Osten, 5 vols. (Munich/Leipzig: K. G. Saur Verlag, 1998–2004). 40. Marriage bed (παστός) mentioned thirteen times; marriage (γάμος) mentioned sixty-one times; νύμφ-terminology sixty times; marriage chamber (θάλαμος) ninetyfive times. The concordances to Peek’s collection, edited by Vittori Citti, Enzo Degani, Giuseppe Giangrande, and Giancarlo Scarpa, An Index to the Griechische Vers-Inschriften, 3 vols. (Amsterdam: Hakkert, 1995–2002), have been invaluable for this study. For many examples not found in Peek, see the indices in Merkelbach and Stauber, Steinepigramme, 5:338, under “Sterben vor der Hochzeit; Anstelle der Hochzeit das Grab.” For extensive treatment of nuptial themes in Greek literature and poetry, see Richard Seaford, “The Tragic Wedding,” Journal of Hellenic Studies 107 (1987): 106–30. SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 169 but Pluto has lit the wedding torches with his lamp, receiving a most longed-for spouse. Parents, leave now the dirges, cease from your lamenting; Theophila has chanced upon a deathless bed.41 Θειοφίλην με θύγατρα μινυνθαδίην Ἑκαταίου ἐμνώοντο γάμωι παρθένον ἠίθεοι· ἔφθασε δ᾽ ἁρπάξας Ἀίδης, ἠράσσατο γάρ μευ, Φερσεφόνας ἐσιδὼν κρέσσονα Φερσεφόναν. καὶ γράμμα πέτρης ἐκγλυφὲν στηλίτιδος κόρην δακρύει Θεοφίλην Σινωπίδα, τὰς μελλονύμφους ἧς πατὴρ δαιδουχίας Ἑκαταῖος Αἴδηι καὶ οὐ γάμωι συνάρμοσεν. παρθένε Θειοφίλα, σὲ μὲν οὐ γάμος, ἀλλ᾽ ἀδίαυλος χῶρος ἔχει, νύμφη δ᾽οὐκέτι Μηνοφίλου, [ἀ]λλὰ Κόρης σύλλεκτρος· ὁ δὲ σπείρας Ἑκαταῖος οὔνομα δυστήνου μοῦνον ἔχει φθιμένης, [μ]ορφὰν δ᾽ ἐν πέτραι λεύσσει σέο, τὰς δ᾽ ἀτελέστους ἐλπίδας οὐκ ὁσίη Μοῖρα κατεχθόνισεν. τὴν κάλλος ζηλωτὸν ἐνὶ θνατοῖσι λαχοῦσαν Θειοφίλην, Μουσῶν τὴν δεκάτην, Χάριτα πρὸς γάμον ὡραίαν, τὴν σωφροσύνης ὑπόδειγμα, οὐκ Ἀίδας ζοφεραῖς ἀμφέβαλεν παλάμαις, Πλούτων δ᾽ εἰς θαλάμους τὰ γαμήλια λαμπάδι φέγγη ἇψε, ποθεινοτάτην δεξάμενος γαμέτιν. [ὦ γ]ονέες, θρήνων νῦν λήξατε, παύετ᾽ ὀδυρμῶν· Θειοφίλη λέκτρων ἀθανάτων ἔτυχεν.42 The symbolic fusion between marriage and death is very much on display: the act of torch-bearing (δᾳδουχία), common to both weddings and funerals, and the wedding torches for the bedroom (τὰ γαμήλια λαμπάδι φέγγη) recalls the use of δᾳδουχέω in NCE 156. So too, with the following funerary inscription for a young man named Chrysios from Phrygia, dating (perhaps) to the first century b.c.e.: With him, Wisdom and the Muses . . . and divine prudence, but when he was thrice seven years, Fate slew him with disease. For him, his mother bore the torch, not with a wedding song, but with tears for Chrysios, along with Ophelimos, his father. Reared by his parents, a model of good behavior to his friends and kindred, he died, and left behind sorrowful grief to his household. Be satisfied, Fate, with the death of this young man; spare his two brothers, and keep off mournful destiny from his parents. 41. Unless otherwise mentioned, all translations are my own. 42. Peek 1989, second-first cent. b.c.e. 170 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES ὧι σοφίη καὶ μοῦσα συν[ . . . ] καὶ θ|εὸς ἔμφρων· φύντα τ[ρ]ὶς ἑπ≥ [τ]αέ|την δὲ ὤλεσε Μοῖρα νόσωι· | ὧ γόον, οὐ≥κ≥ ὑμέναιον ἐδᾳδου|χήσατο [μή]τ[η]ρ οἰκτρὰ δὲ σύ≥ν γενέτη≥ι ≥ Χρυσίον Ὠφελ≥ί μ ≥ ≥ω≥ ι ≥· | κόσμος γὰρ γε|νέταισι τραφεὶ|{ι}ς φιλίοις τε συναίμοις | ὤλετο καὶ γοερὸν πένθος ἔλ≥ε ≥|ι π≥ ε δόμο<ι>ς· | ἄρκεο, Μοῖρα, θανόντι νέω≥ ι, | δισσῶν δὲ συναίμ≥[ω]ν | φείδεο καὶ γονέων λυγ{υ}ρὸν | ἄπειργε μ≥όρον≥.43 Again, we observe several points of comparison with NCE 156: bearing torches (δᾳδουχέω), wedding imagery (ὑμέναιος, “wedding song”), γενέτης—juxtaposed to μήτηρ—for “father,” the συν-compound (συναίμοι in line 7), and the Ionic forms (μήτηρ, γενέτηι). We also find among the sepulchral inscriptions frequent reference to παστός, “wedding chamber” or “bridal bed” most often in the singular, but also in the plural form, as for example, in this inscription from Thasos, which Peek dates to around 100 b.c.e.: Just now, a daemon snatched me, ill fated, from my bridegroom’s chamber, entering into my third decade of life, just now, embarking on a life according to the sacred laws of good reputation, I was enfolded, childless, by hateful Hades, in his halls. Antiphon, he whom his mother (Hero) bore by the seed of Sophocles— Hero to whom I left behind not a son, but a tomb.44 ἄρτι με νυμφιδίων ἀπὸ δύσμορον ἅρπασε παστῶν δαίμων ἐς τριτάταν νισόμενον δεκάδα, ἄρτι βίου περόωντα κατ᾽ εὐκλέα θέσμια δόξας στυγνὸς ἄπαιδα δόμοις ἀμφεκάλυψ᾽ Αἴδας. Ἀντιφόωντα, γοναῖσι Σοφοκλέος ὃν τέκε μάτηρ Ἡρώ, τᾶι λιπόμαν οὐ τέκος, ἀλλά τάφον.45 The following epitaph from Cyrene, which also employs the plural of παστός, uses the same term for “banquet” or “wedding feast” found in NCE 156 (εἰλαπίνη): 43. This particular transcription comes from Merkelbach and Stauber, Steinepigramme, 3:137, number 09/01/04 in their numeration; cf. Peek, Griechische Versinschriften aus Kleinasien (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1980), 44, no. 30. It is reported in SEG 30 (1980), p. 403 no. 1426. 44. The translation, slightly altered, is from Christopher Hallett, The Roman Nude: Heroic Portrait Statuary, 200 B.C.–A.D. 300 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 55. 45. Peek 2038, from Thasos, around 100 b.c.e.; for παστός in the singular: Peek 804.5, 966.7, 1438.1, 1680.5, 1823.1, 1825.7, 2046.5; for the plural 719.3, 790.5, 878.3, 1130.1; also SEG 23, 440. SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 171 All too brief, Capito, the moment Tyche made for you between life and death, between tomb and bedroom: one night, deceitful and unmerciful, a night without flutes, the marriage bed torn in two, a night bereft of feasting. Alas, that your garments, your garlands unanointed and your books came only to ash, O untimely dead one. Woe, for the dirge instead of the wedding cry, woe for the torches leading to a final and empty bed! Βαίον σοι τὸ μετα|ξὺ βίου θανάτοιό | τ᾽ ἔθηκε καὶ τύμβου, | Καπίτων, καὶ Θαλάμοιο Τύ|χη, νύκτα μίαν ψεῦστιν καὶ ἀνη|λέα, τὴν ἄνις αὐλῶν, τὴν δίχα σοι πα|στῶν, τὴν ἄτερ εἰλα≥ πίνης· αἰαῖ | τὴν ἐπὶ πέπλα καὶ εἰς ἀμύριστα πε|σοῦσα[ν] στέμματα καὶ βίβλους <σ>εῖ|ο, πρόμοιρε, <τέ>φρην· οἲ θ≥ρήνοισι βο|ητὸν ὑμήναον, οἲ προκελεύθους | λαμπάδας ὑστατίου καὶ κενεοῖο≥ | λέχους.46 Thus, many elements of NCE 156 can be found in Hellenistic funeral epigrams: the hexameter form, the ionicisms, the terminology of torchbearing (δαιδουχέω), bridal beds (παστός/παστῶν), craving and lack (πεινάς εἰλαπίνη), and the mention of parents (γενέτης). In light of these observations should NCE 156 still be regarded as a Christian inscription? Several reasons to affirm its Christian character may be given. The chief reason remains the language of “praising the father and glorifying the son.” One might conceivably praise a father for rearing a promising child, now untimely dead, but the phrase “praising the father and glorifying the son” is exceedingly difficult to reconcile with the established patterns of funeral rhetoric.47 In addition, the unusual trajectory of the poem is best understood from a Christian perspective. The movement of pagan funeral epigrams so often involves the sharp turn from hope to hopelessness, from promise to disappointment, from the prospect of a young life teeming with possibility to the bitter ashes of the funeral pyre.48 The following epigram from Thrace, for a certain young man by the name of Dioscurides Heraclides, makes the point well: 46. Peek 1522; second century c.e. 47. Recalling the statement of J. and L. Robert, Revue des etudes grecques, 360: “c’est une doxologie chrétienne. L’interprétation doit partir de cette evidence irréfutable.” 48. Seaford, “Tragic Wedding,” 106: “Such a death is constantly imagined, notably in epitaphs, as a kind of marriage, notably (for the girl) with Hades.” 172 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES Just married, temperate, a young man, gentle—O passerby— from good parents, having a blameless character, now he lies here, yearning for his fatherland. Instead of a marriage bed, the bride in her chamber is bereft of a bridegroom. ἀρτίγαμος, σώφρων, νέος, ἤπιος, ὦ παροδεῖτα, ἐξ ἀγαθῶν γονέων ἦθος ἄμεμπτον ἔχων κεῖται νῦν πάτρῃ πεπο<θη>μένος· ἡ δ᾽ ἀπὸ παστῶν χηρεύει νύμφη νυμφίον ἐν θαλάμοις.49 The νῦν marks a joint in the poem: the sudden and wrenching turn from the promise of the past to the sad reality of the present. A reader familiar with the conventions of this genre of writing might expect that the bridal chamber language and remarks about torch-bearing in NCE 156 would lead to the expected and lugubrious conclusion: marriage to Hades. “My companions bring torches to my bridal chamber, but there will no feasting there; snatched away from my nuptial bed, betrothed instead to Hades”— this would be the typical trajectory.50 Given this expectation, the third line startles the reader with the language of praising and hymning. This sudden turn should be understood as a play on the typical trajectory of these epigrams. Not all funeral inscriptions are tragic, of course: some inscriptions do celebrate the accomplishments of the deceased or the deathless existence they now enjoy, having slipped the mortal coil.51 However, with the exception of NCE 156, I have encountered no inscription featuring wedding imagery in which the sense is not tragic. At most, one encounters something like grudging acceptance, as in Theophila’s inscription, where, after much bitter mourning, Hecateus is urged to leave off the dirges and console himself with the thought that Theophila has chanced upon a deathless bed. And finally, NCE 156 features no language drawn from the lexicon of sorrow so common in the funeral inscriptions: οἰκτρός (“pitiable, miserable”); ὀδυρμός (“lamentation”); φθίω (“destroy, perish, wane, waste away”); θρῆνος (“dirge, lament”); ὄλλυμι (“destroy, make an end of, per49. Peek 719; Thrace, second century c.e. 50. E.g., Peek 658: οὐδὲ γάμων ὑμ≥έναιον ἀείσαμεν, ἀλλ᾽ ἄρα μοῦνοι παρθενίην ἐρατὴν σώσατ᾽ ἕως Ἀίδου; 966: ἀντὶ μὲν οὖν θαλάμοιο τάφος γένετ᾽, ἀντὶ δὲ παστ[οῦ] στήλλη{ν} μαρμαρέη{ν}; 2046: οὐ νύμφαν, ἔτι παρθέ[νον]; Merkelbach, Steinepigramme 08/01/41 (οὐ γάμος, οὐ δαΐδας); 08/06/11 (ἀντὶ δέ μοι θαλάμοιο καὶ εὐιέρων ὑμεναίων τύμβος καὶ στήλλη ἐκθροτάτη); see also SEG 23 440: ἀντὶ δὲ παστῶν καὶ θα[λάμ]ων ναίει δύσμορος εἰν Ἀΐδηι. 51. E.g., Peek 647.4, 848.2, 1108.1. Δόξα is commonly encountered: forty instances in Peek; δοξάζω only twice (673.7, 578.1) both times in the passive, used of the deceased. SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 173 ish”); γόος (“weeping, wailing”); γοερός (“mournful, lamentable”); πένθος (“grief, sorrow”); λυγρός (“baneful, mournful”). It seems very unlikely that we have here a traditional funerary epigram. The father and son language, together with upbeat trajectory of the inscription make the most sense under a Christian interpretation. Moreover, the vocabulary of NCE 156 sits most comfortably within a Christian ambit. The accusative object with πεινάω is unusual: the earliest attestation of this usage is found in Matt 5.6. The use of “truth” (ἀληθεία) in line 4 is difficult to understand from the standpoint of a tragic reading. The term is quite rare, at least among the funeral inscriptions. We encounter it only once in Peek’s collection (565.1), where a certain Agelaos is said to have “lived with truth” (μετ᾽ ἀληθείας ζήσαντα). “Flow” (ῥύσις) does not occur even once in Peek.52 However, both terms fit easily with a Christian reading: ἀληθεία occurs frequently in Christian texts, Johannine literature in particular, as in John 1.17 (“Grace and truth came through Jesus Christ”), or John 4.24 (“God is spirit and those who worship him must worship in spirit and in truth”). Water imagery and language of flowing is also found, as in John 7.38 (“Whoever believes in me, from his heart will flow [ῥέω] streams of living water”), or John 4.14 (“Whoever drinks of the water that I give will never thirst again, but the water I will give will become in him a spring of water [πηγὴ ὕδατος] bubbling up to eternal life”). This latter passage, which occurs in the context of Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman at a well, resonates with ῥύσις, especially with the restoration of πηγή at the beginning of the line. We know that Valentinus and Valentinians (e.g., Heracleon) after him were quite enamored of the Gospel of John, so the presence of Johannine vocabulary in NCE 156 may be taken as support for the claim that the inscription is Valentinian in character. And finally, several features of NCE 156 seem related to the more obviously Christian Flavia Sophe inscription, an acrostic poem discovered at Mile III on the Via Latina, perhaps within a mile or two of the probable discovery site of NCE 156: Yearning for the fatherly light, sister, spouse, my Sophe anointed in the baths of Christ 52. ῾Ρῦσις (“deliverance”) does occur in 1566.4 (“I have deliverance from a bitter death”); with a long upsilon, however, it does not scan properly in NCE 156. Moretti’s original reconstruction (“Iscrizioni greche,” 83) employed ῥύσις because he read μονῆς (“abiding, tarrying”) instead of μόνης; see Raoss, “Iscrizione cristianagreca,” 13–14. 174 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES with oil, imperishable, pure; yearning to gaze upon the divine faces of the aeons the great angel, true son, of the great assembly having entered the bridal chamber and into . . . Φῶς πατρικὸν ποθέουσα, σύναιμε σύνευνε Σόφι μου λούτροις χρεισαμένη Χριστοῦ μυρὸν ἄφθιτον ἁγνόν, αἰωνῶν ἔσπευσας ἀθρῖ σαι θεῖα πρόσωπα, βουλῆς τῆς μεγάλης μέγαν ἄνγελον υἱὸν ἀληθῆ ἰς] νυμφῶνα μολοῦσα καὶ εἰ≥ς. οἴκ]ους ἀνοροῦσα ἄφθαρτο]ς πατρικοὺς κ[ ]ΟΝΕΣΤ[ . . . . ΛΩ[ ]ΗΠΡΟ[ On the back in a slightly different script, one finds the following text: She had no ordinary end of life, this women who died. She perished and she lives, and sees truly incorruptible light. She lives to those who are alive, she has died truly to those who are dead. Earth, why do you marvel at this type of corpse? Or are you afraid? οὐκ ἔσχεν κοινὸν βιότου τέ|λος ἥδε θανοῦσα. κάτθανε, καὶ ζωεῖ, καὶ ὁρᾷ | φάος ἄφθιτον ὄντως. ζωεῖ μὲν ζώοισι, θάνεν δὲ | θανοῦσιν ἀληθῶς. γαῖα, τί θαυμάζεις νέκυος | γένος; ἦ πεφόβησαι;53 In a companion piece to the present article I intend to return to this inscription, so I will not enter into the discussion about possible reconstructions. For now it is enough to observe the similarities with NCE 156: the “baths of Christ” (λουτρά Χριστοῦ), expressions involving forms of ἀληθεία (υἱον ἀληθῆ), and the bridal chamber language (νυμφών). All these considerations attest to the Christian ambience of NCE 156. Even if the Christian sense of NCE 156 is well established, this does not cut the inscription off from the matrix of language and poetic conventions found in secular funeral poetry. Reading NCE 156 against the background of the funeral inscriptions challenges and informs traditional 53. For the text, see McKechnie, “Flavia Sophe in Context” 117–18, 122–23. For the circumstances of discovery, see L. Fortunati, Relazione generale degli scavi e scoperte fatte lungo la via Latina (Rome: Tiberina, 1859), 43–44. SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 175 ways of interpreting the epigram. Lampe cites the use of the plural παστῶν as especially problematic for a simple nuptial reading: The plural in “bridal chambers” is a problem for any reading of the inscription, but in the Valentinian frame of reference it seems to create the smallest problem. In the pleroma the pneumatics unite themselves with their angels (plurals), which might have inspired the unprecedented plural in our epigraph.54 But as we have seen above, in the inscriptions from Thasos, Cyrene, and Thrace, the plural is by no means unprecedented. In a short note on the subject, Vemund Blomkvist contests Lampe’s claim, showing that plural terms for furnishings such as a bed (θάλαμος, λέκτρον) or a bridal bed (παστός) can occur where only a single item is at issue.55 In the Thasos inscription mentioned above, the plural probably occurs for metrical reasons, so as to create a spondee in the last foot of the line. As a result, the plural form of παστός in NCE 156 cannot be used to argue for a Valentinian reading, especially since its placement at the beginning of the third foot of the hexameter line would generally require a long syllable. With regard to the use of γενετής in the third line of NCE 156, Scholten claims that, in Christian parlance, the term is not encountered with reference to God.56 But the solution may lie in metrical, rather than theological, reasons. The term is very common in funeral epigrams, where in the plural, it can refer to parents, or in the singular, to the father, as in Peek 950.4 (see above). Unlike πατέρα, γενετήν in NCE 156 completes the dactyl in the second and begins the third foot properly with a long syllable. This may be an occasion where the conventions and practices of poetic epigrams exert a stronger pull on the vocabulary than do theological scruples. Questions have also been raised about whether the particle δέ is an appropriate beginning for a piece of verse, and whether this might indicate that we have only a part of a larger inscription.57 Indeed, δέ is exceedingly common at a point halfway through the epigrams, where it marks a turn towards the tragic outcome. However, it can occur in the first verse line of epigrams, as in Peek 651 (ᾍδας δ᾽ ἐπεσκίασεν), 1159 (ἡνίκα δ᾽ ἠέλιος), or 1381 (εἰ δ᾽ ἐπιτολμήσει). Given that the blank space on the top of the stone is wide enough that it must have been left intentionally empty, we 54. Lampe, Paul to Valentinus, 302. 55. See Vemund Blomkvist, “An Early Christian Inscription?” ZNTW 88 (1987): 143–44. 56. Scholten, “Gibt es Quellen,” 252; for Lampe’s response, see Paul to Valentinus, 303. 57. Scholten, “Gibt es Quellen,” 253 n. 43. 176 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES are certainly in possession of the first line of the epigram. Lampe is probably correct to read it as indicating motion towards something, as in Od. 8.292.58 Finally, it has also been argued that the Ionic elements of the inscription, in particular, the use of ἀληθείης, may reflect Valentinus’s personal style.59 If, however, the epigram is as deeply indebted to the genre of funereal poetry as I have argued, then its presence here cannot be used to establish any tie to Valentinus or Valentinian rhetoric, as the presence of Ionic elements in funeral verse is ubiquitous. IS THE INSCRIPTION VALENTINIAN? Even if we grant that NCE 156 is a Christian poem that employs conventions of Hellenistic funeral poetry, may we confidently assert that it is specifically Valentinian? As noted above, use of the term παστός is among the reasons why NCE 156 has been taken as not simply Christian but more specifically, as Valentinian.60 Guarducci’s restoration of σιγή at the beginning of line is deeply informed by the commitment to a Valentinian reading on the basis of παστός. But if the term has a background in funeral epigrams, not to mention other non-Valentinian texts, can it still be used to identify the inscription as Valentinian? I believe that the case for a Valentinian reading is strong, though, the frequency of bridal chamber language in funeral epigrams and the use of the concept in Christian texts that are not strictly Valentinian does affect the level of certainty with which one may affirm the Valentinian character of NCE 156. I shall therefore revisit the evidence for understanding NCE 156 as Valentinian and present two possibilities: 1) a specifically Valentinian, even Marcosian reading, and 2) a more generic Christian-wisdom reading. I consider the former to be more likely, but the latter cannot be ruled out. Valentinian sacramental practices such as “bridal chamber” are mentioned with remarkable frequency in the Gospel of Philip. The text employs a range of nuptial terminology: παστός (“bridal bed, bridal chamber,” at Gosp. Phil. 69.1, 69.37, 70.18,19,22, 70.33, 71.7, 9), νυμφών (“bridal chamber,” at 65.11, 67.5, 67.16, 67.30, 69.25,27, 72.21,22, 76.5, 82.18, 82.24, 86.5), κοιτών (“bedroom,” at 82.13, 84.21, 85.21, 85.33), νύμφη (“bride,” at 65.11, 71.11, 82.24,25), νυμφίος (“bridegroom,” at 65.10, 58. Lampe, Paul to Valentinus, 300; see LSJ, s.v. “-δε,” B. 59. Lampe, Paul to Valentinus, 305. 60. First suggested by Manlio Simonetti, put into print by Guarducci, “Valentiniani a Roma,” 172. SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 177 71.11, 82.16,17, 82.23,25), and γάμος (64.31,35, 72.22, 82.3–5, 82.10, 85.34, 86.2), as well as the Coptic terms for “bride” (veleet, at 75.28, 82.11) and “bridegroom” (patveleet, 75.28).61 Because this work is a collection of sayings gathered from different sources, there is no guarantee that the language of the bridal chamber is used consistently throughout; indeed, one must assume that a variety of perspectives appear.62 There is no clear consensus on whether the bridal chamber is simply a conceptual aspect of a ritual such as chrismation, a distinct ritual beyond and apart from baptism or chrismation that effects change in the present, or an event in the mythic world. It seems likely that concrete rituals did in fact mark or recapitulate events in the mythic world, and vice versa.63 In at least one saying, νυμφών and παστός are used as synonyms (69.19–70.4); no clear differences appear to exist in the way the different terms are employed among separate sayings. Beyond the general bridal chamber language, the phrase, “brothers of the bridal chamber” in line 1 of NCE 156 also bears a striking affinity with similar characters in the Gospel of Philip. “Sons [children] of the bridal chamber” (Nvhre µpnumfwn) occurs in 72.20–21, 76.5–6, and again at 86.4–5. We also encounter “sons [children] of the bridegroom” (Nvhre µpnumfios) and “friend of the bridegroom” (pvbhr µpnumfios) at 82.15–16. Any of these might correspond to the “brothers of the bridal chamber” mentioned in NCE 156. Of course, the reconstruction at the end of line 1 is uncertain: συναδελφός is one of several possible options.64 Some sort of companion or kindred term is warranted, however, which easily corresponds to the liturgical actors mentioned in the Gospel of Philip. The argument for the Valentinian ambience of NCE 156, however, 61. I have used the edition of the Gospel of Philip found in The Nag Hammadi Codex II,2–7, text by Bentley Layton, translation by Wesley Isenberg; volume edited by Bentley Layton; NHS 21 (Leiden: Brill, 1989). 62. The literature on the question of the sacraments in the Gospel of Philip is extensive. A recent treatment of the outstanding questions with a full account of that literature is that of April DeConick, “True Mysteries: Sacramentalism in the Gospel of Philip,” VC 55 (2001): 225–61, especially 225–26 n. 2 63. DeConick, “True Mysteries,” 230, argues that bridal-chamber language in the Gospel of Philip refers to conceptual aspects of traditional sacraments, not concrete rituals; Nicola Denzey Lewis, “Apolytrosis as Ritual and Sacrament: Determining a Ritual Context for Death in Second-Century Marcosian Valentinianism,” JECS 17 (2009): 225–61, on the contrary, maintains that Redemption (ἀπολύτρωσις) was a distinctive ritual practiced by at least some Marcosian groups (550). 64. Moretti originally suggested συνέφηβοι (“Iscrizioni greche,” 83). For συνομαίμοι, see Peek 626.1, 701.1, 1140.11, 1252.3, 1556.4. Συνόμευνος is attested in the singular (Peek 483.3, 574.4, 1319.5,7 among others) but not in the plural. 178 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES does not hang solely upon the use of παστός. Both options for the first word in the final line—whether σιγή in Guarducci’s restoration or πηγή in Lampe’s—have significant resonance within Valentinian theology. Guarducci’s reconstruction of σιγή—silence—is based on accounts of the Valentinian system given by Irenaeus.65 According to Irenaeus (Haer. 1.11.1), Valentinus, “having adapted the principles from the so-called Gnostic school,” believed there to be an “unnamable Dyad,” which was to be called “Unutterable and Silence” (σιγή). From this primal dyad another pair was projected, named “Father” and “Truth.”66 Irenaeus gives a fuller account of the system of Ptolemy, a student of Valentinus, in which Bythus, the first principle, deposits a seed in his consort Sige, giving rise to Nous, also known as Monogenes or Only-Begotten, who in turn produced Truth (ἀληθεία). If we may regard Bythus as equivalent with the term Father/Parent (γενητής), and the Only-Begotten as Son, then we have in lines three and four of NCE 156 an allusion to the so-called “Primal Tetrad”—Father, Son, Silence, and Truth, the foundational principles of the spiritual universe. NCE 156 would therefore commemorate the return of the believer to this primordial state of aeonic life, characterized by silence and rest. Silence (both σιγή and karwÏ) also appears in a number of Valentinian texts.67 A Valentinian Exposition begins with a discussion of the Father, the root of the Entirety, “who dwells alone in silence (karwÏ)” but who also “dwells [in the Dyad] and in the Pair, and (δέ) his Pair is Silence (σιγή).”68 65. “Ancora sui Valentiniani,” 341–43. 66. For the critical text, see Irénée de Lyon, Contre les hérésies, ed. Adelin Rousseau and Louis Doutreleau, SC 264 (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1979), 166–67, my translation. For more details regarding Valentinian protology, see Einar Thomassen, The Spiritual Seed (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 193–247. 67. Guarducci makes her case for reading σιγή solely based on Irenaeus; she does not make reference to any Nag Hammadi texts other than the Gospel of Philip. The question of what should be considered a “Valentinian text” is debated. With Ismo Dunderberg (Beyond Gnosticism: Myth, Lifestyle, and Society in the School of Valentinus [New York: Columbia University Press, 2008], 10), I will take the following to be Valentinian: Prayer of the Apostle Paul, Gospel of Truth, Tripartite Tractate, Treatise on the Resurrection, Gospel of Philip, First Apocalypse of James, Interpretation of Knowledge, and A Valentinian Exposition. For a concise summary of the positions of different scholars on this issue, see Philip Tite, Valentinian Ethics and Paraenetic Discourse: Determining the Social Function of Moral Exhortation in Valentinian Christianity (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 15–17. 68. Val. Exp. 22.22–27, transcription and translation by John Turner, in Nag Hammadi Codices XI, XII, XIII, ed. Charles Hedrick; NHS 28 (Leiden: Brill, 1990), 107. In this particular case, “silence” seems to be “a condition of the Father’s being,” rather than the hypostatic being who forms a syzygy with the Father, as per Turner’s commentary on this passage (p. 153). SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 179 At 23.21–22, the Root of the Entirety, described as a “spring” (πηγή) is again said to exist in silence (σιγή). The same text records an alternative account of the primal Tetrad, which comprises Word, Life, Man, and Church. Silence is linked with Life: Word (λόγος) . . . is [for] the glory of [the] Ineffable One while (δέ) Life is for the glory of [Silence (σιγή)], and (δέ) Man is for his own glory, while (δέ) Church (ἐκκλησία) is [for] the glory of Truth.69 In spite of some inconsistency with respect to members of the primal tetrad, here again, both silence and truth are found in close proximity, as in line 4 of NCE 156. The Tripartite Tractate also makes reference to silence as an attribute of the unknowable, ineffable First Principle: “. . . in silence (HN oumNtkarws) he himself holds back, he who is the great one.”70 Even more suggestively, it goes on to link the act of baptism with truth, silence, and the bridal chamber: The baptism which we previously mentioned is called “garment of those who do not strip themselves of it,” for those who will put it on and those who have received redemption wear it. It is also called “the confirmation of the truth (tmhe) which has no fall.” In an unwavering and immovable way it grasps those who have received the [restoration] while they grasp it. (Baptism) is called “silence” (mNtkarws) because of the quiet and the tranquility. It is also called “bridal chamber” (ma nveleet) because of the agreement and the indivisible state of those who know they have known him.71 The significant overlap between these Valentinian texts and the language of NCE 156 makes a plausible case for reading σιγή, and if σιγή is to be restored at the beginning of line 4, the Valentinian identification can be regarded as highly probable. The concept of a “flow of silence” or a “flowing of silence,” however, may appear somewhat difficult; πηγή, “source,” or “spring,” has impressed some readers as a more congenial match with ῥύσις.72 As noted above, similar sounding language occurs in the Gospel of John. Living water language is also used with reference to God in the Septuagint (e.g., Jer 2.13, 69. Val. Exp. 29.30–35 (Turner 120–21). The text is broken but the reconstruction of σιγή is certain. 70. Tri. Trac. 55.36–38, ed. Harold Attridge and Elaine Pagels, in Nag Hammadi Codex I (The Jung Codex), 2 vols.; volumes edited by Harold Attridge; NHMS 22, 23 (Leiden: Brill, 1985), 1:199. 71. Tri. Trac. 128:19–36 (Attridge and Pagels 1:323). 72. E.g., Lampe, Paul to Valentinus, 304 n. 36. 180 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES Isa 55.1) and in other early Christian literature (Rev 21.6). A remark from Epiphanius looks rather similar to our line four: ἥτις μόνη ἐστὶ πηγὴ σωτηρίας καὶ πίστις ἀληθείας.73 But we need not wait until Epiphanius for the term πηγή: according to Irenaeus, Marcosians believed that human perceptual capacities were a mirror image of those belonging to the heavenly anthro\pos: “And furthermore, the human being, having been modeled according to the Power above, has in himself the power which derives from the one source (μία πηγή).”74 Πηγή, in the sense of spring or source of being, is also found in two Valentinian texts. In A Valentinian Exposition, the author describes the Monogenes, the only-begotten offspring of the First Principle as a “gushing spring” (phgh esbebe), the Root [of the All].75 In the Tripartite Tractate, the author uses the term to describe the emergence of the spiritual universe from the “nameless, unnamable, inconceivable, invisible, incomprehensible one,” who is described as “a spring, which is not diminished by the water which abundantly flows (Hete, perhaps for ῥέω) from it.”76 The Tripartite Tractate refers to this emanation as the “man of the Father,” the Monogenes, “the form of the formless, the body of the bodiless, the face of the invisible, the word of the unutterable, the mind of the inconceivable, the fountain (πηγή) which flowed (Hete) from him.”77 The Coptic word for “spring” (Halme) also occurs at Tri. Trac. 62.9, 68.10, and 74.6. Both A Valentinian Exposition and the Tripartite Tractate conceive of the source of all being and existence as a “spring.” And so, even if πηγή is restored instead of σιγή, there is still ample warrant for understanding NCE 156 as Valentinian. The term “spring” is not found solely in Valentinian texts, however. In the sense of “source,” it well suits the dynamics of the emergence and emanation found in other non-Valentinian texts, which in turn are deeply indebted to Platonic philosophy. In the Apocryphon of John, which contains a standard version of Sethian Gnostic cosmogonic myth, “spring” as a source of being is connected with (metaphorical) water: “It is he who contemplates himself alone in his light which surrounds him, namely, the 73. Epiphanius, Haer. 4.1 (ed. Karl Holl, GCS 25, 31, 37 [Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1915–33], here GCS 25:157.22–23). These citations are taken from Lampe, Paul to Valentinus, 305 n. 54, where other examples from Philo, Athanasius, and Ps.-Origen may be found. 74. Haer. 1.18.1 (SC 264:274), my translation. 75. Val. Exp. 23.18 (Turner 109); πηγή is also used at also in 24.18 (Turner 111). My thanks to Nicola Denzey Lewis for bringing this text to my attention. 76. Tri. Trac. 59.35–60.15 (Attridge and Pagels 1:207). 77. Tri. Trac. 66.12–18 (Attridge and Pagels 1:217). SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 181 spring (πηγή) of living water, the light full of purity, and the spring (πηγή) of the Spirit which poured forth living water from it.”78 The author of the Second Treatise of the Great Seth criticizes those who “did not know the Gnosis (γνῶσις) of the Greatness, that it is from above and (from) the fountain (πηγή) of truth.”79 The Sophia of Jesus Christ refers to the “spring” or “source of the totalities” (phgh NnipthrF).80 Πηγή can also arise in philosophical texts that do not qualify as Valentinian, Sethian, or even generally Gnostic. The Teachings of Silvanus, found among the Nag Hammadi texts, refers to “the holy Father, the True (ἀληθινός) Life, the Spring (πηγή) of Life.”81 Therefore, reading πηγή in line four would leave the epigram slightly more open to a non-Valentinian interpretation than would σιγή, which carries a technical sense within Valentinian theology. Given that bridal chamber language can be found in non-Valentinian and even non-Gnostic texts, it is necessary to entertain the possibility that NCE 156 stems from a non-Valentinian context. Nuptial imagery is somewhat uncommon in other Nag Hammadi literature, though it does occur, as here in the Second Treatise of the Great Seth: And the Son of the Greatness, who was hidden in the region below, we brought to the height, where I am with all these aeons (αἰών), which no one has seen nor (οὔτε) understood, where the wedding (veleet) of the wedding robe (στολή) is, the new wedding and not the old, nor (οὔτε) does it perish. For the new bridal chamber (παστός) is of the heavens and perfect (τελείος).82 The Apocalypse of Peter, a work that is neither clearly Valentinian nor Sethian, describes “the friendship with those companions rooted in fellowship, those through whom the wedding (veleet) of incorruptibility will be revealed.”83 The Gospel According to Thomas asserts that “only 78. Apoc. John, III 7.5–10, in The Apocryphon of John: Synopsis of Nag Hammadi Codices II,1, III,1 and IV,1 with BG 8502,2, ed. Michael Waldstein and Frederik Wisse, NHMS 33 (Leiden: Brill, 1995), 30–31. 79. Treat. Seth. 60.36–61.3, ed. Gregory Riley, in Nag Hammadi Codex VII; volume edited by Birger Pearson, NHMS 30 (Leiden: Brill, 1995), 177. 80. In both manuscripts of Soph. Jes. Chr. (NHC III, 96.9 and BG 87.4), in Nag Hammadi Codices III,3–4 and V,1, ed. Douglas Parrott, NHS 27 (Leiden: Brill, 1991), 59. 81. Teach. Silv. 91.7–9, ed. Malcolm Peel, trans. Malcolm Peel and Jan Zandee, in Nag Hammadi Codex VII, volume edited by Birger Pearson, NHMS 30 (Leiden: Brill, 1995), 297. 82. Treat. Seth 57.7–18 (Riley 167–69). 83. Apoc. Pet. 79.3–7, ed. James Brashler, in Nag Hammadi Codex VII, volume edited by Birger Pearson, NHMS 30 (Leiden: Brill, 1995), 237. 182 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES solitaries will enter the bridal chamber (ma Nveleet).”84 Authoritative Teaching describes the soul as finally coming to rest in the bridal chamber (ma Nveleet) and “eating of the banquet (δεῖπνον) for which she had hungered.”85 Bridal chamber language can occur in texts that are not particularly Gnostic in character, as in the Teachings of Silvanus: “When you entered into a bodily birth (σωματικόν), you were begotten. You have come into being inside the bridal-chamber (νυμφών), and you are illuminated in mind (νοῦς)!”86 And so the bridal chamber language of NCE 156 is not inconsistent with generic hellenistic-Christian wisdom traditions that draw on Stoic and middle Platonic philosophy. There are noticeable affinities between the language of NCE 156 and yet another Nag Hammadi document, the Exegesis on the Soul, a Christian allegory that describes the fall of the soul into material entanglements and its eventual redemption.87 Along the way, the author quotes a good deal of Scripture from both the Old and the New Testaments. According to the Exegesis on the Soul, the process of salvation consists of two steps. First comes baptism. The soul, after prostituting herself with many lovers, i.e. worldly pleasures, experiences remorse, and “weeps before the father,” and repents, turning inward from her external pursuits. At this point, . . . when the womb of the soul, by the will of the father, turns itself inward, it is baptized and is immediately cleansed of the external pollution which was pressed upon it. . . . And so the cleansing of the soul is to regain the [newness] of her former nature and turn herself back again. That is her baptism.88 Having been cleansed from her former lovers she yearns for her true love, and so, 84. Gosp. Thom. §75, ed. Bentley Layton, trans. Thomas Lambdin, in Nag Hammadi Codex II,2–7, volume edited by Bentley Layton, NHS 20 (Leiden: Brill, 1989), 81. 85. Auth. Teach. 35.10–13, ed. George MacRae, in Nag Hammadi Codices V,2–5 and VI, with Papyrus Berolinensis 8502,1 and 4, volume edited by Douglas Parrott, NHS 11 (Leiden: Brill, 1979), 287. 86. Teach. Silv. 94:25–29 (Peel 305–7). 87. Ed. Bentley Layton, trans. William Robinson, in Nag Hammadi Codex II,2– 7, volume edited by Bentley Layton, NHS 21 (Leiden: Brill, 1989). Einar Thomassen, “Notes pour la délimitation d’un corpus valentinien à Nag Hammadi,” in Les textes de Nag Hammadi et le problème de leur classification: actes du colloque tenu à Québec du 15 au 19 septembre 1993, ed. Louis Painchaud and Anne Pasquier, BCNH Études 3, (Québec: Les Presses de l’Université Laval, 1995), 258, believes that Exeg. Soul is “possibly Valentinian,” but this is a minority view; see Tite, Valentinian Ethics, 15–16. 88. Exeg. Soul 131.27–132.2 (Layton and Robinson 155). SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 183 From heaven the father sent her man, who is her brother, the firstborn. Then the bridegroom (rµveleet) came down to the bride. . . . She cleansed herself in the bridal chamber (ma Nveleet); she filled it with perfume; she sat in it waiting for the true bridegroom. . . . But then the bridegroom, according to the father’s will, came down to her into the bridal chamber, which was prepared. And he decorated the bridal chamber (νυμφών).89 After supplying several citations from Scripture—Gen 2.24 (“become one flesh”), 3.16 (“the master of a woman is her husband”), Ps 44.11–12 (“forget your people and your father’s house”), and Gen 12.1 (“come out from your country and kindred”)—the author continues, Now it is fitting that the soul regenerate herself and become again as she formerly was. The soul then moves of her own accord. And she received the divine nature from the father for her rejuvenation, so that she might be restored to the place where originally she had been. This is the resurrection that is from the dead. This is the ransom from captivity. This is the upward journey of ascent to heaven. . . . Then when she becomes young again she will ascend, praising the father and her brother by whom she was rescued. Thus it is by being born again that the soul will be saved.90 Several more scriptural references on the subject of remorse, “pitying the empty deception we were in . . . mourning for ourselves” follow, among them Matt 5.6/Luke 6.21, “blessed are those who are hungry, for it is they who will be filled.” Then, surprisingly, follow three citations from Homer: For no one is worthy of salvation who still loves the place of deception. There it is written in the poet, “Odysseus sat on the island weeping and grieving and turning his face from the words of Calypso and from her tricks, longing to see his village and smoke coming forth from it. And had he not [received] help from heaven, [he would] not [have been able to return] to his village” (Od. 1.48–59, 4.558).91 The quotations immediately following are also taken from the Odyssey (4.260–61, and 4.261–64). The text concludes with a quotation of Ps 6.7– 10, on the subject of repentance and the assurance of divine forgiveness. Each of the first three lines of NCE 156 has noticeable overlaps with language and ideas just cited. The first concerns the nuptial language, employing terms for bride, bridegroom, and bridal chamber (both νυμφών and veleet). Παστός per se does not occur, but it appears that νυμφών carries the same meaning. 89. Exeg. Soul 132.7–26 (Layton and Robinson 155–57). 90. Exeg. Soul 134.6–15 (Layton and Robinson 159–61). 91. Exeg. Soul 136.26–35 (Layton and Robinson 167). 184 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES The craving and lack of fulfillment in line 2 also finds a counterpart in this text. As the exhorter says, It is fitting to pray to the father and to call on him with all our soul—not externally with the lips but with the spirit, which is inward, which came forth from the depth (βυθός)—sighing; repenting for the life we lived; confessing our sins; perceiving the empty deception we were in and the empty zeal; weeping over how we were in darkness and in the wave [sic]; mourning for ourselves, that he might have pity on us; hating ourselves for how we are now. Again the savior said, “Blessed are those who mourn, for it is they who will be pitied; blessed, those who are hungry (πεινάω), for it is they who will be filled.”92 This type of compunction is not something that simply precedes baptism and then becomes superfluous: staying mindful of one’s former sins and errors is a continuous spiritual discipline. “It is fitting,” says the writer, “to pray to God night and day, spreading our hands towards him as do people sailing in the middle of the sea” (136.17–19), and the Exegesis on the Soul maintains this note to the very end. Like a sailor still at sea, away from port, life in the material body is never free from the obligation to mourn one’s physical, material existence. Similarly, in line two of NCE 156, the brothers of the bride yearn for a banquet that cannot be had in this life, within the bounds of the physical body. At the same time, we also find the language of praising, as in line three of NCE 156: “when she [the soul] becomes young again she will ascend, praising the father and her brother by whom she was rescued.”93 Reflecting the androgyne myth, this “brother” who rescues the soul is in fact the soul’s original partner, as per Gen 2.24, . . . for they were originally joined to one another when they were with the father before the woman led astray the man, who is her brother. This marriage has brought them back together again and the soul has been joined to her true love, her real master.94 This brother is also the offspring of the father, the firstborn (vorp µmise), and though the term “son” does not appear, “son” and “firstborn” are cognate entities. The Exegesis on the Soul shows no knowledge of aeonic characters such as Silence (σιγή) nor do we find πηγή or ῥύσις, so there are no suggestive lexical ties between it and the fourth line of NCE 156. And yet, 92. Exeg. Soul 135.4–19 (Layton and Robinson 161–63). 93. Exeg. Soul 134.27–29 (Layton and Robinson 161). 94. Exeg. Soul 133.4–10 (Layton and Robinson 157). SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 185 that the soul should be “restored to the place where originally she had been” seems consonant with the sense of line four and the ἔνθα, “there,” “in that place” in the presence of the Father, away from the turbulence of life in the body. And finally, apart from language and concepts, it is significant that the Exegesis on the Soul invokes texts drawn from epic poetry. These particular citations of Homer need not signal a very high literary culture: they may derive from anthologies or handbooks. But the mix of scriptural and poetic citations shows that the implied audience for the Exegesis on the Soul would surely have appreciated the poetic conventions found in NCE 156. Given these themes within the Exegesis on the Soul, it is possible that NCE 156 could arise within a Christian group whose theological affinities cannot be fixed as specifically Valentinian, Sethian, or Gnostic. I consider it more likely, however, that the inscription is indeed Valentinian, not simply because of the general bridal chamber language, which can be found in other texts, but because it refers to “brothers of the bridal chamber” as liturgical actors—companions or attendants, who “bring torches to my bath.” Similar characters, whether “children of the bridal chamber” (Nvhre µpnumfwn), “children of the bridegroom” (Nvhre µpnumfios), or “friends of the bridegroom” (nvbhr µpnumfios) are found only in the Gospel of Philip. In NCE 156, these actors bear torches, prepare baths, and join in praise. While many similar concepts are present in the Exegesis on the Soul, the narrative as a whole remains at the level of allegory rather than concrete action. And finally, while σιγή would firmly cement a Valentinian identification, we have seen that πηγή also makes perfect sense within a Valentinian context. In the final analysis, it may not make much difference whether we choose the Valentinian reading or the more generic Christian-wisdom reading. The boundaries between these categories (Valentinian, Sethian, Christian yet non-Valentinian, etc.) are more easily drawn in scholarly taxonomies than in real life, where people may entertain contradictory ideas, and where they may also speak and write in ways that do not always represent the full panoply of their theological concepts. Recent studies of Valentinianism have highlighted its paraenetic concerns, and the Exegesis on the Soul is nothing if not paraenetic.95 At a minimum, we can safely affirm that NCE 156 derives from a group of suburban, upper class Christians with a speculative bent, an appreciation for epic poetry, and a rich set of liturgical practices. 95. See Dunderberg, Beyond Gnosticism. 186 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES BAPTISMAL INSCRIPTION OR EPITAPH? Given that the inscription moves within the conventions of sepulchral verse inscriptions, it becomes necessary to ask whether NCE 156 is best understood as a “baptismal” inscription or as a funeral epitaph. Lampe has summarized the “baptismal” reading as follows: In the first person a host (line 1), opening his or her rooms (line 2) for Christian rituals, speaks. At the host’s residence, the congregation regularly celebrates baptisms (line 1) and looks forward to the Eucharistic meals afterwards (line 2), singing praise to the Father and the Son (line 3). When and where the rituals are celebrated, there is “flowing of the only spring and of the truth” (line 4), the speaker hopes. The image of flowing at the end fits well with the baptismal baths at the beginning of the poem.96 Accordingly, this “baptismal” inscription “probably hung in the suburban villa of a wealthy Valentinian man or woman . . . where what was spoken of in the text apparently took place.”97 Lampe briefly entertains the possibility of a funeral reading, but states that “an explicit nuptial motif (here παστῶν) is usually absent in burial contexts,” and then asks, “In which second-century frame of reference would it be possible to state that death gave access to ‘beds of bridal chambers?’”98 But we have seen that nuptial motifs are in fact very frequently encountered in burial contexts, and so we should consider whether NCE 156 is indeed a funeral inscription, commissioned by a Christian with Valentinian tendencies. The latter possibility commends itself naturally, since it is commonplace to commission a funeral inscription, of which thousands survive; an inscription commemorating baptism or marking a room where baptism took place would be somewhat anomalous in this early period, at least as unusual as a nuptial inscription. After all, the Flavia Sophe stone, which also features baptismal language and bridal chamber imagery, is a funeral inscription. If theological reasons could be found for understanding death—casting off the material body, completing the journey to one’s spiritual home—as the longed-for, consummating moment at the end of an extended and onerous betrothal, then NCE 156 can be easily read as a funeral inscription. The ideas about death and resurrection espoused in a Valentinian text like the Treatise on the Resurrection, for example, would be entirely congenial to understanding NCE 156 as a funeral inscription.99 Inspired by 96. Lampe, Paul to Valentinus, 305–6. 97. Lampe, Paul to Valentinus, 310. 98. Lampe, Paul to Valentinus, 307. 99. For these selections from the Treatise on the Resurrection, I have employed the translation of Bentley Layton in The Gnostic Scriptures (Garden City, NY: Doubleday SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 187 Platonist metaphysics, Valentinian Christians did not consider their physical bodies to be fundamentally connected with their true selves: “are you (the real you) mere corruption?” (Treat. Res. 47:18). Jesus came not as a sacrifice for sin, but rather in order to show the nature of the spiritual universe, the place of humankind within the present order of material and spiritual reality, and the true identity of those who understood his message and responded to it, instinctively, from within their inner selves. While some Christian groups were emphasizing the resurrection of the flesh that would take place after one’s death, the writer of the Treatise on the Resurrection emphasizes that resurrection can be experienced in the present: by setting aside the demands of the physical body—the state of “dispersion and bondage”—the believer already possesses resurrection (49:13–15). Therefore, one ought to regard the world as “an apparition; it is resurrection that is truly real” (48:13).100 Even so, physical reality and life in the body cannot be denied. Believers must for the present live within the confines of the material world, looking forward to that moment when finally even this last constraint falls away: Now, since we are manifestly present in this world, the world is what we wear [like a garment]. From him [the savior] we radiate like rays; and being held fast by him until our sunset—that is, until our death in the present life—we are drawn upward by him as rays are drawn by the sun, restrained by nothing. This is resurrection of the spirit, which “swallows” resurrection of the soul along with resurrection of the flesh.101 One’s physical death becomes the goal towards which one is “rushing”: For if the dying part [flesh] “knows itself” and knows that since it is moribund it is rushing toward this outcome [death] even if it has lived many years in the present life, why do you [the intellect] not examine your own self and see that you have arisen? And you are rushing toward this outcome [that is, separation from the body] since you possess resurrection.102 For a person committed to this brand of Platonist-inspired, anti-materialist theology, death might indeed have been visualized as a joyous occurrence, & Co., 1987), while making reference to the critical edition of the Coptic (by Layton) and the translation (by Peel) in Nag Hammadi Codex I (The Jung Codex), 123–57. 100. These sentiments are quite similar, in fact, to those in the Exegesis on the Soul, where the regeneration of the soul is described as “the resurrection from the dead,” “ransom from captivity,” and the “upward journey into heaven” (Exeg. Soul. 134.11–15 [Layton and Robinson 160–61]). 101. Treat. Res. 45:28–46:2 (trans. Layton, Gnostic Scriptures, 321). 102. Treat. Res. 49:9–25 (trans. Layton, Gnostic Scriptures, 324). 188 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES the final, consummating act in a long betrothal and thus fitly commemorated with the kind of inscription we find in NCE 156. This type of theology also aligns very well with the sentiments found on the reverse side of the Flavia Sophe inscription: this woman has died to the realm of death and matter, having come alive to those who are truly living. Indeed, this fits with what we know of the ritual practices of certain Valentinian groups. If the report of Irenaeus may be trusted, the followers of the Valentinian teacher Marcus seem to have explicitly staged a ritual, which they consider to have been a kind of second baptism: Some among them prepare a bridal chamber (νυμφών) and perform initiatory rites, invoking certain phrases over those being initiated; they say that this is a spiritual marriage after the pattern of the heavenly syzygies.103 It was this second baptism to which Jesus referred, when he said, “I have a baptism with which I am to be baptized, and how I am held back until its completion,” a remark that links this second baptism with his upcoming death.104 Irenaeus goes on to say that, “others practice the rite of Redemption up to the moment of death, placing on their heads oil and water, or the previously mentioned ointment mixed with water.”105 Hippolytus refers to both of these rituals as “baths” (λουτρά), which would cohere very nicely with line one of NCE 156, if λουτρά is restored there.106 Ptolemy, another disciple of Valentinus, links the bridal chamber with the moment of death, i.e. when the deceased divest themselves of their “animal souls” and return to the Pleroma, their true spiritual home. By doing so, they mimic the restoration of Achamoth, or “lower wisdom” to her place in the Pleroma: 103. Irenaeus, Haer. 1.21.3 (SC 264:298–99), my translation. Though some of Irenaeus’s remarks concern Marcosian groups in Gaul, late sources place Marcus himself in Rome, and followers of his were active there, according to Hippolytus, Haer. 6.42.1. See Ismo Dunderberg, “Valentinian Teachers in Rome,” in Christians as a Religious Minority in a Multicultural City; Modes of Interaction and Identity Formation in Early Imperial Rome: Studies on the Basis of a Seminar at the Second Conference of the European Association for Biblical Studies (EABS) from July 8–12, 2001, in Rome (London/New York: T & T Clark International, 2004), 170. 104. Luke 12.50, my translation. The RSV reads, “I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is complete!” 105. Irenaeus, Haer. 1.21.5 (SC 264:304–5), my translation. The Greek text survives only in an extract from Epiphanius, Haer. 36.2–3 (GCS 31:46.16–47.10), as per Rousseau. On this ritual, see Denzey Lewis, “Apolytrosis,” 554–57. 106. Hippolytus, Haer. 6.42.1 (ed. M. Marcovich, Hippolytus: Refutatio omnium haeresium, Patristische Texte und Studien 25 [Berlin/New York: Walter De Gruyter, 1986], 259). SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 189 When all the seed has come to perfection, they say that their mother Achamoth will cross over from the intermediate place and will enter into the Pleroma and receive as her bridegroom (νυμφίος) the Savior, who originated from all [the Aeons], in order that a syzygy might be formed between the Savior and Sophia née Achamoth. This is said to be bridegroom and bride, while the whole Pleroma is the bridal chamber (νυμφών). The spiritual seed, again, being divested of their animal souls (ἀποδυσαμένοι τὰς ψυχάς), and becoming intellectual spirits (πνεύματα νοερά), shall in an irresistible and invisible manner enter in within the Pleroma, and be given as brides to the angels around the Savior.107 It is not hard to imagine that some groups, like Marcus and his followers, would have furnished elements of this mythic narrative with concrete, sacramental counterparts. In addition to a noticeable overlap between the language of NCE 156 and the ritual practices attributed to Valentinians, we can also place a number of Valentinian teachers and groups in Rome at the time our inscription was executed. Valentinus himself lived in Rome from the late 130s for a period of fifteen to twenty years, perhaps even longer.108 His follower Ptolemy may have been resident in Rome in the mid second-century, if he is the same individual mentioned by Justin in his Second Apology as having suffered martyrdom when Urbicus was city prefect (144–60).109 Indeed, we know of several other Valentinian teachers active in Rome during the second century.110 It thus appears that NCE 156 dates from a period when Valentinians are most active in Rome, according to the literary evidence from Irenaeus and Hippolytus. If NCE 156 is to be understood as a funerary inscription written within the conventions of epic verse, then certain elements of the received reading are clarified and expanded, for example, the interpretation of εἰλαπίνη in line 2. Lampe’s reading assumes that εἰλαπίνη should be understood as a reference to the Eucharist. Justin uses the term with reference to communal meals, perhaps implicitly including the Eucharist (Dial. 10.1), but 107. Irenaeus, Haer. 1.7.1 (SC 264:100–101), my translation. 108. Dunderberg, “Valentinian Teachers,” 159–60. 109. In favor of the identification: Gerd Lüdemann, “Concerning the History of Earliest Christianity in Rome: I. Valentinus and Marcion; II. Ptolemaeus and Justin,” Journal of Higher Criticism 2 (1995): 127–29, and Lampe, Paul to Valentinus, 239–40; Einar Thomasson, Spiritual Seed, 494, considers the idea “unpersuasive.” Ismo Dunderberg, “The School of Valentinus,” in A Companion to Second-Century Christian “Heretics,” ed. Antti Marjanen and Petri Luomanen (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 76, calls it an “intriguing possibility.” 110. See Dunderberg, “Valentinian Teachers in Rome,” 157–74, and Thomassen, Spiritual Seed, 494–502, on “western” Valentinians. 190 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES outside of this instance, the term is not used of the Eucharist per se until the seventh century.111 In fact, the writer of the epigram may have chosen εἰλαπίνη because of its Homeric cachet, in particular because of its nuptial associations. Εἰλαπίνη is the term used in the description of the Shield of Achilles, where it is closely paired with a marriage celebration: “With weddings and wedding feasts in one [city] and under glowing torches they brought forth the brides from the women’s chambers, marching through the streets while choir on choir the wedding song rose high”112 (ἐν τῇ μέν ῥα γάμοι τ’ ἔσαν εἰλαπίναι τε, νύμφας δ’ ἐκ θαλάμων δαΐδων ὕπο λαμπομενάων ἠγίνεον ἀνὰ ἄστυ, πολὺς δ’ ὑμέναιος ὀρώρει).113 Connections with NCE 156 are immediately evident: in addition to εἰλαπίνη, we also encounter nuptial language (νύμφη, θαλάμος) and processing by torchlight. Δαΐδων (from δαΐς, δαΐδος, “fire-brand, pine torch; funeral torch”) is related to δᾳδουχέω with which it is sometimes paired.114 The word for wedding song (ὑμέναιος) is similarly related to ὑμνέω, and forms of both δᾳδουχέω and ὑμνέω appear in NCE 156. Not all readers might have appreciated these connections, but it seems very likely that the author of this epigram was mindful of Homeric precedent. Under a baptismal sense, πεινάω was taken to mean that the co-celebrants of the person being baptized were yearning for the eucharistic feasts connected with the rite, looking forward to its celebration, which would presumably take place soon.115 But the typical sense of πεινάω means simply “to starve” or “to suffer from hunger,” without any implications about prospects for relief.116 Matt 5.6, mentioned above, refers to those hungering and thirsting for justice, a justice that will only be fulfilled in the eschatological future.117 Fulfillment of the craving mentioned in line 2 is 111. Lampe, Paul to Valentinus, 302; in Sophronius of Jerusalem (550–638 c.e.). 112. The translation is that of Fagles, The Iliad (London: Penguin, 1998), 483. 113. Il. 18.491–93 (ed. David Munro and Thomas Allen, Homeri opera. Tomus II: Iliadis libros XIII–XXIV, 3rd ed. [Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1920]. The same pairing occurs at Od. 1.226 (ed. Thomas Allen, Homeri opera. Tomus III: Odysseae libros I–XII, 2nd ed. [Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1917]): εἰλαπίνη ἠὲ γάμος. 114. As in an inscription from Athens (Kaibel, Epig. Gr. 822.8–9) dating to the second or third century, that mentions a “taurobolium.” 115. So Lampe, Paul to Valentinus, 302. The term does seem to be used in a eucharistic sense in the inscription of Pectorius of Autun, which dates (probably) from the fourth century: “hungering, eat (ἔσθιε πινάων), holding the ‘Fish’ [Christ] in your hands.” See Coppo, “Contributo,” 115–16. 116. Juxtaposed with riches in Aristophanes, Pl. 595 or with pleasure in Plato, Gorgias 496c; to suffer from hunger (Xenophon, Mem. 6.2.15); to starve miserably (Herodotus, Hist. 2.13); also Rom 12.20: ἐὰν πεινᾷ ὁ ἐχθρός. 117. Cf. Luke 6.21, “blessed are those who are hungry now (πεινάω).” SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 191 not possible in one’s present material condition, and so the attendants of the bridegroom are left hungry for heavenly banquets that cannot be fully experienced in this life. Instead they look forward to the kinds of feasts represented in catacomb art, e.g., in the well-known fractio panis scene of the Capella Greca in the Catacomb of Priscilla, or more relevant for our purposes, in the small catacomb in the area of Cava della Rossa, around the Mile V on the Via Latina.118 Reading NCE 156 as an epitaph also clarifies the sense of ἔνθα. Guarducci’s use of “donde” (“from where, whence”) is not entirely consistent with the meaning of ἔνθα, which typically means either “here,” or “there,” not “from whence.”119 Reading NCE 156 as an epitaph, ἔνθα in the sense of “there” fits naturally. The one who has died or will soon die is speaking of the place she (or he) is headed, and it is there, not “from there,” that she will experience the full measure of truth. Under this reading, Guarducci’s restoration of ῥύ[σις ἔστιν] is preferable to Lampe’s ῥύσις εἴη.120 And so, given all these considerations, I would restore and translate as follows: [λου]τρὰ δ᾽ ἐμοὶ παστῶν δᾳδουχοῦσιν συ[ν . . . ] [εἰλ]απίνας πεινοῦσιν ἐν ἡμετέρο[ισι δόμοισιν], [ὑμ]νοῦντες γενέτην καὶ υἱέα δοξάζον[τες] [πη]γῆς ἔνθα μόνης καὶ ἀληθείης ῥύ[σις ἔστιν]. To my bath, the brothers of the bridal chamber carry the torches, [here] in our halls, they hunger for the [true] banquets, even while praising the Father121 and glorifying the Son. There [with the Father and the Son] is the only spring and source of truth. This reading presumes that the deceased person is speaking throughout, which is very common among the funeral epigrams. It also emphasizes the here-there dynamic of the poem, from life in the body to life away from the body. Typically, this meant a tragic turn, but not in the present case. Someone familiar with the normal trajectory of funeral epigrams would have appreciated this inversion. 118. See Guarducci, “Valentiniani a Roma,” 187–88, with figures 50 and 51. 119. “Hither” or “thither” with verbs of motion, according to LSJ; it may also refer to time. 120. Though neither term is commonly encountered as the last word in the epigrams. Ἐστίν occurs in Peek 89, 251, and 1582; εἴη occurs in 256 and in 1436 (editorial conjecture). Lampe rejects ῥύσις ἐστίν as too long, but it does not seem that the right margin need be so rigorously aligned. 121. One might translate “parent” for γενέτης, though in this case, the term is very commonly encountered in funerary inscriptions in the sense of “father.” 192 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES Finally, while I have argued that NCE 156 should be understood as a funeral epitaph, the line between a baptism and a death ritual could be rather thin. From a very early period, death and baptism were intimately linked, as the Pauline language of dying with Christ in baptism attests (Rom 6.4). Among early Christians, baptism was very often deferred until the moment of death.122 And baptismal associations would no doubt have arisen in connection with the traditional rite of bathing the deceased as part of burial preparations.123 As with the falsely simplistic “either/or” between pagan and Christian, so also here, a sharp “either/or” between death and baptism would miss the complexity of actual ritual practice. It cannot be ruled out that a group of Christians saw this λουτρόν (whether first or second baptism) as a kind of virtual death and resurrection and that they should commemorate the act with an epitaph employing the conventions of funeral poetry. It would make the “death” and the “resurrection” that followed it all the more real and compelling, marking it as a real and proper death. On this reading, what we have is not a “baptismal” inscription, but a funeral inscription marking a virtual death and resurrection experienced in baptism, after which the baptized individual continues living in the body, but now (symbolically) raised. Or, as I believe to be more likely, NCE 156 was commissioned by a Valentinian Christian who saw his or her death approaching, and wanted to commemorate the event as a joyous occasion: to make a statement that for one of our faith, death is a liberating return to one’s true spiritual home. TOPOGRAPHICAL CONTEXT Given the find-site along the Via Latina, we might with ample justification assume the inscription comes from one of the monumental tombs crowded along this stretch of the road. Another verse inscription in Greek comes from a tomb at Mile III on the Via Latina: This tomb conceals the body of a young girl, of surpassing beauty, having departed this life worthy and blameless no one living on earth loosed her bridal band. To Elpis, sweetest sister, from Donation. 122. Denzey Lewis, “Apolytrosis,” 557; Orazio Marucchi, Christian Epigraphy, trans. J. Armine Willis (Chicago: Ares, 1974), 103–10, gives examples of several baptismal inscriptions involving deathbed baptism. 123. Jocelyn Toynbee, Death and Burial in the Roman World (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996), 44. See also New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity, vol. 8, ed. S. R. Llewelyn (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1998), 176–79, for an inscription commemorating a certain Nikander, who has “attained divine washing” (θείου λουτροῦ). I owe this reference to an anonymous reader at JECS. SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 193 Τύμβος ὅδε κρύπτει κούρης σεμνῆς καὶ ἀμέμπτου σῶμα κατοιχομένης περικαλλέος, ἧς ἐπιγείων παρθενικὴν ζώνην οὔτις ἔλυσε βροτῶν. Ἐλπίδι ἀδελφῇ γλυκυτάτῃ Δωνατίων.124 Even the tragic wedding theme is here. Marriage to Hades is evident if unspoken: in the absence of an earthly husband to loose her bridal garment, she was joined in marriage to Hades. So a person traveling down the Via Latina would not have been surprised to encounter a Greek funerary inscription with nuptial imagery adorning a tomb. And yet, it is by no means certain that NCE 156 must come from a tomb, or rather, from a tomb far removed from the dwelling place of the family of the deceased.125 Starting in the second century, tomb shrines seem increasingly to be located within the grounds of villas.126 This represents a change from an earlier period, when people preferred to keep a certain separation between cemeteries and inhabited areas. Griesbach produces several examples of small temple-like tombs situated on the grounds of villas. Moreover, there is precedent for similar inscriptions on the grounds of villas during the time period of interest, and moreover, very close to the Via Latina. SAR inv. 475259, a Greek funeral inscription from the second century, written in epic verse, was recovered near the intersection of the via di Grotta Perfetta and the Via dell’Automobilismo, within a few miles of the probable find site of NCE 156. According to the excavators, “the inscription does not come from a funeral context, but lay on the ground in a corridor, facing part of the structure of a villa.”127 Given these precedents, it is possible that NCE 156 derives from a villa or from a private funerary shrine on the grounds of a villa.128 124. IG 14,1571 = Peek 536. Peek assigns it a date in the second century c.e. According to Giuseppe Tomassetti (La campagna Romana, vol. 4 [Rome: Arnaldo Forni, 1920–26], 70), it derives from the same area as the Julia Evaresta inscription (Inscriptiones christianae urbis Romae 1:cxvi), another inscription of seemingly Gnostic character dating from the third or fourth century. See Guarducci, “Valentiniani a Roma,” 186–87. 125. Lampe, Paul to Valentinus, 312, suggests that the people buried along this section of the Via Latina may have lived on the Caelian hill. 126. Jochen Griesbach, “Villa e mausoleo: trasformazioni nel concetto della memoria nel suburbio romano,” in Roman villas around the Urbs. Interaction with landscape and environment. Proceedings of a conference held at the Swedish Institute in Rome, September 17–18, ed. B. Santillo Frizell and A. Klynne, The Swedish Institute in Rome, Projects and Seminars 2 (Rome, 2005), 113–23. 127. Giulia Sacco, in Roma: memorie dal sottosuolo. Ritrovamenti archeologici 1980–2006, ed. Maria Antonietta Tome (Milan: Mondadori, 2006), 432. 128. Kim Bowes, Private Worship, Public Values, and Religious Change in Late Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), discusses private venues for Christian worship, though in a somewhat later period. 194 JOURNAL OF EARLY CHRISTIAN STUDIES CONCLUSIONS Traditional approaches to this epitaph have sought to understand it almost exclusively against the background of Christian literature and theology. The approach is warranted and fruitful, but as we have seen, it is too limiting. The language of NCE 156 sends its roots down deep into Scripture, Valentinian theology, and the long tradition of pagan funerary poetics. The person who commissioned this poem for their epitaph was a knowing connoisseur of the conventions of funeral epigrams, one who playfully sought to subvert the reader’s expectations while giving voice to a deep theological conviction about death and what lay beyond it. In this instance, an overly sharp dichotomy between “pagan” and “Christian” has hampered our appreciation of this multivalent artifact. NCE 156 gives us a solid piece of evidence for the existence and location of a concrete community of Christians sometime during or just after the middle of the second century. The date alone is very significant: an Antonine date would place NCE 156 earlier than the Abercius inscription, which is often considered to be the earliest Christian inscription.129 NCE 156 may be a better candidate for that honor. It also gives us a fairly precise geographical location for a group of sophisticated, literarily inclined Christians, which is important for two reasons: 1) it helps as we seek to understand the variety of Christian communities in Rome and the networks among them, and 2) knowing the general neighborhood of this Christian group on the Via Latina is very important for thinking about the social location of this particular group. In the conjunction of villa and private shrine along this stretch of the Via Latina, we have a concrete and plausible life setting for one early group of Christians. And in the polyvalent language of this inscription, we glimpse a group of Christians who inhabited a particular intellectual space, a group that sought to integrate the language of Scripture, a philosophically informed Christian theology, and the language of classical poetic conventions. Finally, to speak generally, it is positively bracing to have a tangible object from the milieu of second-century Christianity. Written texts from this period pose significant challenges: those of the heresiologists are distorted by polemical concerns, while the vestigial writings of their opponents are often so deeply conceptual and metaphorical that it is difficult to put feet 129. The Abercius inscription is typically dated to around 200 c.e. See R. A. Kearsley, “The Epitaph of Aberkios: The Earliest Christian Inscription?” in New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity, Vol. 6, ed. S. R. Llewelyn (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1992), 177–81. I am grateful to a reviewer at JECS for this reference. SNYDER / SECOND-CENTURY CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTION 195 on the ground where Gnostic groups are concerned and to imagine how these people might have actually lived. Of course, NCE 156 is a piece of writing and an allusive one at that. And yet, this piece of stone, commissioned (most probably) by a Valentinian Christian, emerges with special directness from beneath thick layers of polemical and conceptual overgrowth. As such, it is a singularly fascinating object that deserves more attention than it has received from students of early Christianity. H. Gregory Snyder is Professor of Religion at Davidson College in Davidson, North Carolina