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The literary productivity of early Christianity invites the model of textual communities. This productivity includes the appropriation of the Jewish Scriptures and other writings and the claim to their correct interpretation, as well as the creation of a range of new writings reflecting both continuities and discontinuities with contemporary conventions. The selection of particular texts as authoritative is part of a process of self-definition, which excludes other claimants. Approached independently of such processes allows the diversity of texts to challenge rigid categories of Christianity versus Judaism or of orthodoxy versus heresy.

This chapter examines Erasmus's edition of Augustine's collected works (Basel 1528–9) to illuminate the interaction between humanist scholarship and the Reformation. The most widely disseminated version of Augustine in the sixteenth century, Erasmus's edition offered not just a thorough critical revision of the Augustinian canon, but also some surprisingly open reservations about the church father's works. This chapter explores the editorial guidance of Erasmus and Juan Luis Vives, the commentator of the City of God. It argues that Erasmus's humanist perspective on textual criticism and his theological agenda guided—and at times misguided—his editorial practice, such as in the assessment of authenticity. The result was an edition in which Augustine's works were framed by a highly ideological textual apparatus, which proved especially controversial in post-Tridentine Catholic circles.

This chapter examines the ways in which four different pseudonymous letter-collections (those attributed to Plato, Xenophon, Solon, and Euripides) portray themselves as the work of their purported famous authors; how the authority of individual letter- and wider collections depends on the creation of an impression of authorship by a particular historical individual; and the functions to which the authority so created are put. The chapter focusses on how the theme of authenticity is important in these texts, and how they have a complex relationship with mainstream biographical traditions about their purported authors. The picture that emerges points to a sophisticated conception of authorship and provides important evidence for the relationship of the narrating voice of a text and its supposed author in antiquity.

This chapter examines the ‘long recension’ of the corpus of letters attributed to the early second-century Christian bishop Ignatius of Antioch. The ‘long recension’, now generally agreed to be a spurious addition to Ignatius’ genuine letters, alters the text of the genuine letters and adds new letters to new correspondents. Three purposes for the forgery may be imagined: first, for entertainment; second, to show that Ignatius was orthodox at a time when his status was in doubt; third, to invoke Ignatius’ authority in some then-current debate. This chapter argues that there is evidence for all three motives, and examines related questions, such as how this example of Christian pseudepigraphy differs from others, and to what degree it requires that the reader be deceived.

This chapter sets the stakes for Vandal Africa’s ecclesiastical controversy. Taking its cue from the anxieties of contemporary Nicene bishops, it suggests that the Nicene and Homoian churches were not so dissimilar from one another, whether in size, personnel, language use, or ecclesiastical culture. It also presents the (surprisingly scanty) information on the careers of key Nicene clerics and argues that pseudepigraphic texts must be integrated into any analysis of this period, not least since the works of better-known figures were often transmitted under assumed names in the early Middle Ages.

This chapter deals with the social contexts that determine esoteric content. Knowledge is not of itself esoteric; it is its socially recognized secrecy that makes it so. Names of angels are one example of this. Secrecy enhances value and power, both for the initiate and for the outsider. Problems in testing analyses of secret societies and the function of secret societies are explored. We look at control of knowledge and scribal secrecy and the role of writing in esoteric knowledge. The question of pseudepigraphy stands at the center of this discussion. Does it reflect some religious experience? Or is it an authority-conferring convention?

The recent publication of the first volume of Old Testament Pseudepigrapha: More Noncanonical Scriptures offers scholars an ideal vantage point from which to review the major trends in Pseudepigrapha research since the publication of the last milestone collection, James H. Charlesworth’s Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, thirty years ago. Most significant in this regard is the radical expansion of the corpus in the new collection, which signals a return to the “maximalist” conception of the Pseudepigrapha that defined the category during its early history. This chapter discusses the Pseudepigrapha as category and corpus, their historical relationship and the dynamics of change, and the impact of changes over time on issues regarding early Jewish texts and traditions in Christian transmission.

At first glance, the Aramaic letters embedded in the biblical book of Ezra look like authentic documents issued in favour of the Judaeans by the Achaemenid chanceries. This chapter shows that the letters display formulaic and stylistic features differing from authentic imperial Persian royal correspondence, that the contents of these letters are influenced by other biblical texts, chiefly Deutero-Isaiah and the books of Chronicles, and that the image of the king in these letters comprises aspects of the euergetism characteristic of Hellenistic monarchs. Grätz therefore suggests that the letters in Ezra 4–7 are fictitious and serve certain literary and ideological purposes: they present the Persian period as a time of divinely monitored reconstruction after the exile, and they emphasize God’s lasting election of Judah and the Jerusalem temple. The deployment of letters for such purposes can be compared with similar practices in Hellenistic historiography.

The fundamental goal of this chapter is to present the dynamic to be explored in this book, relating heresy, forgery, and novelty. In its first sections, this chapter probes the contestability of religious novelty and the roles that condemnations of novelty played in Christian heresiological discourse. Then the chapter examines and also chips away at the various perspectives and biases that have prevented exploring the Jewish origins of Christian heresiology. The chapter next considers the extent to which second temple period Jewish writers went to conceal innovations, often by deceitfully disguising recent writings as much more ancient ones. The threads tie together with a restatement of the key dynamic at play: Heresy involves the condemnation of novelty; forgery entails the feigning of antiquity. Novelty ensues with the valorization of innovation, which can harden into supersessionism—the inverse of heresy.

Early Christians acted “out of love” for Paul—to quote a phrase from Tertullian—producing other texts and stories in his name or associated with him. Such pseudepigraphical writings should be understood in the context of Roman “practices of history” found, for example, in the spheres of education, entertainment, and literature. Pseudepigraphical and other references to Paul are found in Thessalonikē: 1 Thessalonians becomes the grounds for civic pride in the apostle over several centuries. Letters in Paul’s name (like 2 Thessalonians) or stories about him (as in the Acts of the Apostles) indicate ongoing engagement. These are improvisations that complicate the categories of history and fiction. Such texts and practices, for which we also find archaeological evidence in Ephesos and Philippi, must be understood within the context of “epistolary narratives” in antiquity that sought to expand the life of a famous figure, not as instantiations of forgery or lies.

Burnyeat and Frede argue that the seventh of the letters ascribed to Plato is no more genuine than any other letter purporting to be from a philosopher before Epicurus; that its true author is far too remote from Plato for it to give any reliable evidence about Plato’s thoughts and activities; and that it is to be appreciated as a fine tragedy in prose. This review criticizes some of the details of their arguments, while endorsing and amplifying their conclusion.

This chapter uses David and the Psalms to rethink the phenomenon of pseudonymous attribution. A common understanding of pseudepigraphy in antiquity is that a discomfort with anonymous texts spurred a drive to attribute them to authoritative figures. But it was not only the quest for authorization that motivated practices of attribution: rather than texts in search of authors, we sometimes have characters in search of stories. The chapter traces the development of psalm headings and David’s character over time, from an ancient king to a cosmic angelic figure who is also known as a great writer and singer. It shows that Davidic attribution was not a religious dogma that asserts the literal authorship of the book of Psalms, but an aesthetic, poetic, and honorific act that celebrates an ancient hero and lets him inhabit new literary homes. The chapter places the Davidic case study in the context of other scribal heroes whose skill in writing becomes part of their developing biographies.