Abstract
For centuries, the authorship claims of certain New Testament epistles have been defended by postulating the use of a secretary. According to the amanuensis hypothesis, secretaries in the Greco-Roman world were afforded varying degrees of compositional freedom during the letter-writing process. Proponents of this view maintain that such a consideration invalidates the practice of making authenticity judgments based on the style or even content of a given letter. To better understand the merits and limitations of the amanuensis hypothesis, this article outlines its earliest formulations, traces the development of its evidential basis, and examines the various ways it has been applied within modern authorship debates.
Keywords
Introduction
The amanuensis hypothesis is a popular theory within New Testament scholarship that explains the style, content, and structure of certain epistles based on the claim that ancient secretaries were afforded varying degrees of compositional freedom during the letter-writing process. The significance of this view lies in the fact that it serves as a primary basis for defending the traditional authorship claims of nearly half the epistles in the New Testament.
There are two ways in which the authenticity of these letters receives support from ancient secretarial activity. First, it establishes the possibility that there could be variation in the stylistic character of letters sent by the same author, for the shape and content of any given correspondence would depend on who was serving in the role of secretary. Such a consideration would be crucial for assessing the differences between the disputed Pauline epistles and the rest of the Pauline corpus. If secretarial license was prevalent in antiquity, it would require a re-evaluation of the types of stylistic arguments commonly used to challenge the authenticity claims of letters such as Colossians, Ephesians, and the Pastoral Epistles.
Second, the amanuensis hypothesis offers an alternative lens through which to assess the stylistic quality of a letter purported to have been written by an author who lacked the requisite linguistic and/or literate abilities. This would be especially pertinent with regard to the Catholic Epistles. Scholars have long noted that the letters of James, 1–2 Peter, and Jude contain some of the most highly stylized Greek in the New Testament, leading many to question whether they could have been produced by Galilean peasants. When secretarial freedom is factored into the equation, however, one must account for the possibility that the epistles were commissioned by the ascribed authors but actually composed by educated individuals who were much more capable in the Greek language.
Despite the profound implications of the amanuensis hypothesis, many critical scholars have voiced strong opposition against it. In fact, the theory has been characterized as a ‘desperate expedient’ (McL Wilson 2005: 31), a convenient way to salvage traditional authorship claims in the face of evidence to the contrary (cf. Lyons 1985: 11 n. 36). Yet modern evaluations have not always been equitable. Critics tend to dismiss the proposal without fully engaging the evidence or arguments that stand behind it. In many ways, the amanuensis hypothesis is a theory in need of proper vetting. A helpful place to begin such a process is with a review of its history. In what follows, therefore, we will outline the earliest formulations of the amanuensis hypothesis, trace the development of its evidential basis, and examine the various ways it has been applied to modern authorship debates. Along the way, we will highlight problems that have not been adequately addressed by proponents of the theory as well as questions that require further attention from critics and advocates alike. The goal is to provide scholarship with a better foundation from which to evaluate the theory’s merits and limitations.
The Theological Origins of the Amanuensis Hypothesis
Our review of the amanuensis hypothesis will begin by identifying when and why the theory was first postulated. Although some have claimed that the view originated in antiquity, its earliest attestation comes from the time of the Reformation, where the theory was initially put into service out of theological necessity. In order to explain the stylistic differences between 1 and 2 Peter (and thus to avoid contradicting the traditional authorship claims of the latter), some Reformers tentatively proposed that one of the letters—or perhaps both—may have been composed by a secretary. In subsequent years, interpreters would adopt and further elaborate on this suggestion in an effort to defend Petrine authorship.
The Amanuensis Hypothesis in Antiquity?
The origin of the amanuensis hypothesis is commonly traced back to antiquity, where its initial formulation is attributed to Jerome. On two occasions, Jerome acknowledges that the letters of 1 and 2 Peter were written in notably different styles. The first time that this compositional feature is observed is in his description of illustrious ecclesiastical writers and the documents they produced (De Viris Illustribus, ca. 392/393 CE). When recounting the life and written accomplishments of Simon Peter, Jerome explains how the stylistic variation between 1 and 2 Peter had led many to question the authenticity of the latter: ‘He [Peter] wrote two epistles that are called Catholic; the second of which is considered by many not to be his due to its stylistic difference from the first (quarum secunda a plerisque ejus esse negatur, propter styli cum priore dissonantiam)’ (Vir. ill. 1.3 [PL 23:638]).
Although Jerome does not specifically identify who was among the ‘many’ (plerique) dissenters, some have speculated that he may have been referring to his teacher, Didymus of Alexandria (so, e.g., Westcott 1889: 448; Gregory 1907: 277). Whether or not this was the case, it is clear that the authenticity of 2 Peter had been challenged prior to this point. The earliest doubts are reported by Origen (Commentaries on the Gospel of John cited in Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 6.25.8), and such sentiments appear to have continued up through the time of Eusebius (Hist. eccl. 3.1.4; 3.3.1; 3.25.3). Even after the letter’s inclusion in numerous fourth century canonical lists (e.g., Cyril of Jerusalem, Catech. 4.36 [ca. 350 CE]; Athanasius, Ep. fest. 39 [367 CE]; Epiphanius, Pan. 76.5 [ca. 375 CE]; Const. ap. 8.47.85 [380 CE]; Gregory of Nazianzus, Carm. 12.31 [390 CE]; Jerome, Ep. 53.9[8] [394 CE]), some remained skeptical. The epistle is lacking in the Old Latin (see Westcott 1889: 263-65) and some strands of the Syriac tradition (e.g., the catalogue of St. Catherine’s monastery [ca. 400 CE]; Doctrina Addai 44; Aphraates, Homilies). Further, various church fathers from the fourth through sixth centuries rejected either the Catholic Epistles as a group (see Leontius of Byzantium, C. Nestorianos et Eutychianos III.14 [PG 86:1365]; Cosmas Indicopleustes, Christian Topography 7:292 [PG 88:372-373]) or only a certain portion that included 2 Peter (see Amphilochius of Iconium, Iambi ad Seleucum 310-313; John Chrysostom, Synopsis Scripturae sacrae [PG 56:317]; Junilius Africanus (De partibus divinae legis 6 [PL 68:19]). So even if ‘this formulation [of Jerome] may be somewhat exaggerated’ (Grünstäudl and Nicklas 2014: 221), there was obviously a large enough constituency that Jerome felt it necessary to mention.
What is particularly important about Jerome’s description of this group is that he identifies the reason for their skepticism. Up to this point, church fathers had merely noted the debate surrounding the epistle; but here we learn, for the first time, that the doubts were connected to the letter’s (stylistic) deviation from 1 Peter. Whether the earlier questions surrounding the authenticity of 2 Peter were driven by such comparisons, we can only conjecture. But this reference at least provides definitive documentation of an interpretive decision that would continue to grow in popularity.
Although Jerome mentions the basis for the skepticism surrounding 2 Peter, he does not attempt to address the stylistic problem in De Viris Illustribus. Nearly a decade later, however, we find his explanation within a personal correspondence. It seems that Jerome was in the habit of answering questions posed to him by Christians from around the empire (see, e.g., Jerome, Ep. 119, 121, 123, 125, 129). On one such occasion, he received a letter (ca. 407 CE) from a widow name Hedibia, who was seeking answers for various problems related to New Testament interpretation. For centuries, this letter was read as a real correspondence written by a woman from Gaul who was interested in the specifics of New Testament exegesis. Whether this is the case (Cain 2003: 15-33), or whether the letter was a fictive account designed to provide Jerome with a platform to pose and then answer interpretive questions (Burgon 1871: 51-57), the theory of Jerome represents an attempt to resolve what was perceived as a problem by many interpreters of 2 Peter.
In total, Hedibia posed twelve questions to the learned scholar. The eleventh related to the meaning of Paul’s statement in 2 Cor. 2.15–16, in which he declares, ‘We are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to the latter the smell of death leading to death, and to the former the smell of life leading to life. And who is adequate for such things?’ As part of this response, Jerome’s discussion of Paul leads him into a brief aside about Peter and the epistles attributed to him. He states, Even though Paul had a perfect knowledge of the holy Scriptures, though he was naturally eloquent, and though he possessed the gift of speaking in tongues, as he prides himself in the Lord, saying, ‘I thank my God that I speak with the gift of tongues more than all of you’, he was not able to express the majesty of the divine sentiments in eloquent Greek words. Therefore, Paul had Titus as an interpreter, just as Saint Peter had Mark, whose gospel was composed as Peter narrated and Mark wrote it down. Finally, also, the two epistles ascribed to Peter differ from one another in style, character, and word order (duae epistulae, quae feruntur Petri, stilo inter se et caractere discrepant structuraque uerborum), from which we can discern that it was sometimes necessary for him to employ different interpreters (ex quo intelligimus pro necessitate rerum diuersis eum usum interpretibus) (Ep. 120.11 [CSEL 55:507-508]).
The most important question that arises from this passage is the meaning of the term interpres. It could denote a ‘secretary’ who received the apostle’s spoken message, originally delivered in Greek, and then recorded it (in Greek) on a written medium. In this case, any variation between the words of Peter and the words recorded in the letters would represent the compositional license taken by the secretary. On the other hand, interpres could denote a ‘translator’ who received the original Aramaic (or Hebrew) message of Peter, converted it into Greek, and then recorded the translation on a written medium. In this case, any variation between the words of Peter and the words recorded in the letters would represent the (translational approach involved in the) conversion of a message from one language into another. Although there is obviously overlap between these two functions, they have been purposefully distinguished here in order to highlight the mechanism behind the stylistic divergence.
The evidence—while admittedly not overwhelming—seems to suggest that Jerome had the latter in mind. This is evident from the fact that reference is made to the Petrine epistles in the context of a discussion about the limitations of Paul’s linguistic abilities and his need for a translator. Even though Jerome lauds the various gifts and communicative abilities of Paul, he states that the apostle ‘was not able to express the majesty of the divine sentiments in eloquent Greek words’ (diuinorum sensuum maiestatem digno non poterat Graeci eloquii explicare sermone, Ep. 120.11). After the aside about the letters of Peter, Jerome returns to Paul’s speaking abilities. He describes Paul as being in a state of unrest while in Troas (cf. 2 Cor. 2.12-13) because he had not yet found ‘the pipe of his preaching, the organ through which he would sing to Christ’ (quia praedicationis suae in praesentiarum fistulam, organumque per quod Christo caneret, non invenerat, Ep. 120.11). By this, he was referring to Titus, who joined Paul’s team and thus solved his need for an interpreter. This seems to suggest that Jerome is thinking in terms of translation, not merely transcription.
At the same time, it is difficult to deny that when Jerome describes the composition of Mark’s gospel the written recording of oral speech was involved. He explains how Mark wrote while Peter narrated. This reflects an early and long-debated tradition of Mark serving as Peter’s ‘interpreter’ (see Papias [= Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 3.39.15; Irenaeus, Haer. 3.1.1; 3.10.5; Clement [= Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 6.14.6-7]; Tertullian, Marc. 4.5; Origen [= Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 6.25.5]; Jerome Vir. ill. 1, 8). When this tradition is discussed in modern scholarship, the question normally focuses on whether Mark served as an amanuensis, a translator, or a messenger. Yet it is important to recognize that the meaning attached to Mark’s role seems to have changed as the tradition evolved. Jerome stands at the end of this development, wherein the transcription of Peter’s speech allows the gospel to have direct apostolic authority in ways that earlier forms of the tradition do not (a fact noted long ago, see Davidson 1894: 1:463). However, even when Jerome supplements the Mark-as-interpreter tradition to include dictation and transcription, this does not rule out the possibility of language transfer; that is, Jerome’s reference is consistent with Mark recording (in Greek) as Peter dictated in Aramaic. This consideration, in connection with the evidence discussed above, suggests that, for Jerome, the stylistic discrepancy between 1 and 2 Peter should not merely be attributed to the compositional freedom of an amanuensis, but to the range of possibilities involved in translation.
Other pieces of evidence lend weight to this conclusion. First, this interpretation is consistent with Jerome’s use of the noun interpres elsewhere. Generally, he employs this term to denote one who explains the meaning of a word or phrase (Ep. 48.14, 17), or more commonly, someone who translates a spoken or written account from one language into another (Ep. 57.5, 11; 80.1; 106.3, 30; 116.3; 140.6). By contrast, when Jerome refers to one who transcribes the words of another into written form (without any translation involved), he tends to use the term notarius to describe a secretary (see Ep. 34.6; 57.2; 117.12). Consequently, his choice of interpres in Ep. 120.11 is most likely intended to highlight the impact of translation.
Second, Jerome offers a similar explanation to defend Pauline authorship of the epistle to the Hebrews. He acknowledges that others at the time doubted that Paul was the author of that letter, ‘because it differs (from the other Pauline letters) in style and language (propter styli sermonisque dissonantiam)’ (Vir. ill. 5). Nevertheless, Jerome accounts for this discrepancy by suggesting that Hebrews had been translated. The process that he envisions is noteworthy: ‘Paul, being a Hebrew, wrote in Hebrew, that is, in his most eloquent expression, so that those things that were eloquently written in Hebrew could be more eloquently turned into Greek (ut ea quae eloquenter scripta fuerant in Hebraeo, eloquentius verterentur in Graecum). This is the reason why it seems to differ from other epistles of Paul’ (Vir. ill. 5). It is clear, therefore, that Jerome was aware of the impact that translation could have on the style of documents written by the same individual (cf. Jerome, Ep. 57; Chron. preface; Sit. preface), much like he postulates in the case of 1 and 2 Peter.
A third consideration that points toward translational divergence rather than secretarial freedom is that Jerome elsewhere employs style as a criterion by which to judge authorship claims. On numerous occasions, appeal is made to stylistic considerations as a way to differentiate a work attributed to a given author from other writings by the same individual. In doing so, Jerome is thus able to challenge the authorship claim of the work in question (e.g., Jerome, Vir. ill. 25, 58; Ep. 84.10; Ruf. 2.19). This practice is applied to a variety of genres, including epistolary literature. At times, he rules out the possibility of common authorship between two letters because their style is different (e.g., Jerome, Ep. 102.1; Vir. ill. 15). In other cases, the identity of a letter writer is postulated due to the fact that the epistle shares the same style as others written by a known author (Jerome, Ruf. 2.24; 3.25). Since Jerome uses style to distinguish one epistolary author from another, it seems unlikely that he would allow for the possibility that a secretary could play a determinative role in the composition process. Otherwise, the stylistic distinctions that he notes would have no force.
Finally, it is important to note that ‘many’ (plerique) at the time of Jerome rejected 2 Peter based on its stylistic difference from 1 Peter (Vir. ill. 1.3). This raises an important question about the prevalence of the negative evaluation: If, as Jerome is commonly thought to do, one could appeal to the freedom of an amanuensis to explain the discrepancies between two epistles, why was the style of 2 Peter such a widespread problem? Why did others not postulate this same explanation? Was Jerome the first biblical interpreter in nearly three hundred years to devise such a solution based on ancient letter-writing practices? And once the dissenters became aware of this formulation, why did the postulation of multiple amanuenses not alleviate any and all doubts? As it stands, it is much easier to explain the environment of skepticism to which Jerome is responding if his solution relates to the translational practices of an interpreter and not the compositional freedom granted to an amanuensis.
In conclusion, then, the frequent appeal to Jerome’s ‘solution’ by modern proponents of the amanuensis hypothesis appears to be a case of mistaken identification. While Jerome may be the source of the amanuensis hypothesis, in the sense that his explanation may have inspired the eventual formulation of the theory that has become so popular today, he seems to have been advocating for a slightly different explanation. Jerome actually put forward what could be labeled the ‘translator hypothesis’, wherein the differences in style between 1 and 2 Peter are explained by the translational decisions involved in converting the Aramaic message of Peter into Greek.
But if this is the case, who first postulated the amanuensis hypothesis, and why was the view originally formulated? The answer to these questions is found nearly a millennium after Jerome, during the time of the Protestant Reformation.
The Original Formulation of the Amanuensis Hypothesis
The doubts that some ancient interpreters expressed about 2 Peter continued to be echoed at the start of the Reformation. Not only were claims made about canonical distinctions, wherein 2 Peter was located within a less significant category of scripture (see Karlstadt 1520: 4; Hutter 1609: 8; Serarius 1612: 40), but prominent interpreters seemed hesitant to fully endorse the letter’s authenticity. Luther expressed some doubts, although he never rendered a final and absolute verdict. When addressing 2 Pet. 3.15 and its reference to ‘all of [Paul’s] letters’ (πάσαις ταῖς ἐπιστολαῖς), he claimed that this ‘sufficiently shows that this epistle was written long after St. Paul’s epistles’ (gnugsam anzeygt, das dise Epistel lang nach S. Paulus Episteln geschrieben sey; Luther 1524: e i). Further, he noted that this is one of the passages ‘that might persuade someone to conclude that this epistle was not St. Peter’s’ (die da yemand möchten bewegen, zu halten, das diese Epistel nicht S. Peters were; Luther 1524: e i). Yet he seems to remain open to the possibility that the letter was penned by the apostle.
Doubts were also expressed by Erasmus. As he began his Paraphrases of 1–2 Peter and Jude, the renown philosopher and humanist drew attention to the fact that, in antiquity, ‘there was never any doubt about 1 Peter, but there was for 2 Peter’ (de priore Petri numquam fuit dubitatum; de posteriore fuit; 1520: 5). Erasmus himself expressed some reservations about the letter’s authenticity based on its style and content, noting that the only way he could explain it was either that 2 Peter was pseudonymous, or that, like the (now) lost letter that he envisioned from his interpretation of 1 Pet. 5.12 (see Erasmus 1527: 684; cf. also Grotius 1650: 36; Pott 1790: 152; Hottinger 1815: 145), Peter had commissioned Silvanus to transcribe the letter (Erasmus 1520: a3; although, cf. 1520: 53, where he seems to attribute the letter to Peter). While this suggestion was put forth merely as a possibility, without any consideration being given to ancient letter-writing or to the role(s) of amanuenses in the process, it represents the first documented occurrence of the amanuensis hypothesis.
A few decades after the initial—albeit cursory—postulation of the amanuensis hypothesis, Calvin would suggest a similar explanation of 2 Peter’s composition. Like Erasmus, Calvin was aware that some in the early church had questioned the letter’s authenticity. In fact, he mentions Eusebius and the doubts that the historian records. This, however, appears to have done little in the way of persuading Calvin. Much more influential, it seems, was Jerome’s report that some in his day had rejected 2 Peter because it differed from 1 Peter. This stylistic argument was one that Calvin could not deny. He notes, ‘What Jerome writes influences me somewhat more, that some, induced by a difference in the style, did not think that Peter was the author. For though some affinity may be traced, yet I confess that there is that manifest difference which distinguishes different writers (fateor... manifestum esse discrimen, quod diuersos scriptores arguat)’ (Calvin 1551: 140; trans. Owen).
The reason why this presented a problem for Calvin was because he felt the need to balance historical and literary considerations (which pointed away from the letter’s authenticity) with 2 Peter’s placement in the canon of scripture (which would not allow the epistle to be pseudonymous). He reasoned, ‘according to the consent of all, it has nothing unworthy of Peter, as it shews everywhere the power and the grace of an apostolic spirit. If it be received as canonical, we must allow Peter to be the author, since it has his name inscribed, and he also testifies that he lived with Christ: and it would have been a fiction unworthy of a minister of Christ, to have personated another individual’ (Calvin 1551: 140; trans. Owen).
On the assumption that the letter is genuine, Calvin believed that a more nuanced description of the compositional process was required. As such, he hesitantly proposed the amanuensis hypothesis. To account for the stylistic differences between 1 and 2 Peter, he suggested the following: … not that he [Peter] himself wrote it, but that some one of his disciples set forth in writings by his command, those things which the necessity of the times required (non quod eam scripserit ipse: sed quod vnus aliquis ex Discipulis, ipsius mandato, complexus fuerit quæ temporum necessitas exigebat). For it is probable that he was now in extreme old age, for he says, that he was near his end. And it may have been that at the request of the godly, he allowed this testimony of his mind to be recorded shortly before his death, because it might have somewhat availed, when he was dead, to support the good, and to repress the wicked (Calvin 1551: 140; trans. Owen).
Even though Calvin confessed that he did not recognize the language of Peter, this proposal allowed him to assuage his own reservations about doubting a letter that he felt was pervaded by the Spirit of Christ (see Calvin 1551: 140).
Such a compromise is significant in that Calvin’s postulation of the amanuensis hypothesis seems to have arisen out of theological necessity rather than historical inquiry. In other words, when Calvin appealed to the secretary theory, he made no attempt to ground his view in letter-writing practices from antiquity or the role(s) of ancient amanuenses. The hypothesis was merely a useful expedient to avoid the (perceived) contradiction of a canonical pseudepigraphon. Little about this situation would change even after the time of Calvin. Those who espoused the amanuensis hypothesis made their case apart from ancient comparative evidence, and this would be the trend for almost four centuries thereafter.
Perhaps part of the reason why the historical basis of the amanuensis hypothesis was not addressed at this time was because of how rarely the view was posited. Despite the influence of scholars like Erasmus and Calvin, few in the 16th and 17th centuries espoused this solution to the stylistic problem of 2 Peter (one exception: Winckelmann 1705 [1608]: 1049, who suggested that Peter wrote 1 Peter himself, but employed a secretary to compose 2 Peter due to his advanced age). Many Reformation interpreters continued to defend the letter’s authenticity without appealing to secretarial license (Lefèvre d’Étaples 1527: 35-36; Pellikan 1539: 739; Hemmingsen 1566: n.p.; Strigel 1566: 302; Weller 1567: 166-68; Aretius 1581: 232-33; Herlin 1605: 328; Vorstius 1631: 544; Ames 1635: 121-22; Piscator 1638: 752; Dickson 1659: 298; Escobar y Mendoza 1667: 263). Various explanations were offered to account for the stylistic differences. Some followed Jerome and appealed to the use of different translators for each letter (e.g., Bellarmine 1587: 94). Others argued that the style of an ancient author could and would vary from composition to composition, especially over time and with regard to changing circumstances, such as the aged condition of Peter (cf. 2 Pet. 1.13-15). The primary example used to support this claim was the letter of ‘Paul’ to the Hebrews, which differs from the other letters in the Pauline corpus despite (at the time) being considered a letter from Paul (Lapide 1627: 354; Adams 1848 [1633]: 1; Cajetan 1639: 4:381). But even with the proliferation of such solutions, many who defended the authorship of the epistle simply refused to acknowledge that 1 and 2 Peter were stylistically distinct (e.g., Laurentius 1641: 1-5; Carrière 1663: 710; Alexandre 1710: 181; Bullinger 1534: 85; cf. Simon 1689: 196-97).
Aside from those who defended the authenticity of 2 Peter, there was also a small minority of interpreters who attributed the letter to someone other than the apostle Peter. One whose work garnered some strongly negative responses from subsequent interpreters was Grotius (1650: 38; for responses, see Hammond 1845 [1659]: 4:426-29; Le Clerc 1699: 598-99; Nietzsche 1785; Bertholdt 1819: 3124-27). Claiming that 2 Peter must have been written after the destruction of the temple in 70 CE, he postulated that the letter was composed by Simon (or Simeon), the bishop of Jerusalem, following the death of James. So rather than being a forgery, the epistle had mistakenly been attributed to the apostle by later Christian readers. To defend this thesis, Grotius was required to posit numerous interpolations and to divide 2 Peter into two letters: chapters 1–2 being the first epistle and chapter 3 being the second (cf. Weber 1798: 153-54, who also partitioned 2 Peter into two letters). Because of the complicated nature of this theory, few (if any) were ultimately persuaded. Others did, however, question the authenticity of 2 Peter. But when such challenges were raised, they were often connected to the content of the letter just as much as its style (see, e.g., Scaliger 1667: 71-72; Saumaise 1641: 14).
The Early Development of the Amanuensis Hypothesis
During the post-Reformation period, a growing number of scholars began to view 2 Peter as pseudonymous. In fact, near the middle of the 19th century, one review of the interpretive landscape boldly declared that since the time of the Reformation, ‘the voices of all discerning authorities have united in doubting and rejecting it’ (haben sich die Stimmen aller Einsichtigen in seiner Anzweiflung und Verwerfung vereinigt) (Schwegler 1846: 1:491; cf. Augusti 1801–1808: 2:5). While this assessment represents an exaggeration, in that many competent interpreters continued to defend the authenticity of 2 Peter based on detailed treatments of the relevant issues (see below), a sizeable shift in scholarship can be discerned. At this time, a large number of interpreters came to conclude that the letter (or portions of it: see Ullmann 1821; Bertholdt 1819: 3157-61; Bunsen 1847: 175; Lange 1853–1854: 1:152-54) was spurious (e.g., Wetstein 1751–1752: 2:698; Semler 1784: praef. D1, 167-68; Schmidt and Schwarz 1798–1803: 5/2:263; Welcker 1805: 181-83; Eichhorn 1804–1827: 3:624-56; Richter 1810; Mayerhoff 1835: 149-217; Magnus 1835; Credner 1836: 1:660-61; Jachmann 1838: 176-79; Audemars 1838; Daumas 1845; Schwegler 1846: 1:490-518; Neander 1847: 2:598-99 n. 1; de Wette 1847: 77-78; Volkmar 1867: 4-6, 94; Reuss 1887: 268-69; Ewald 1870: 105-12; Renan 1873: vi-vii; Hilgenfeld 1875: 765-70; Abbott 1882: 49-63, 139-53; 1903: 25-41; Lechler 1885: 440; Bleek 1886: 752-64; Davidson 1894: 2:529-51; von Soden 1899: 211; Chase 1900: 799-818; Mitchell 1911: 64-66; Strachan 1910: 106-109; cf. Schott 1830: 425, who claimed that a close friend of Peter composed the letter after the apostle’s death using the things that he heard Peter preach). What is noteworthy about this shift, at least for our purposes, is that the stylistic differences between the Petrine epistles was only one among many reasons for the rejection of 2 Peter. Critiques also pointed to the problems created by the intertextual relationship with the epistle of Jude, the reference to ‘your apostles’ (2 Pet. 3.2), and the existence of a collection of Paul’s letters (2 Pet. 3.15-16), all of which seemed to suggest that the letter was written after the lifetime of the historical Peter.
Despite this mounting skepticism, many post-Reformation interpreters continued to defend the authenticity of 2 Peter (e.g., Lange 1734: 215; Michaelis 1788: 2:1475-83; Morus 1794: 214-15; Augusti 1801–1808: 2:5-19; Feilmoser 1830: 519-28; Hug 1847: 2:475-87; Stier 1850: 10-13; Dietlein 1851: 1-74; Reithmayr 1852: 736-40; Maier 1852: 419-23; Schaff 1854: 365-66; Fronmüller 1862: 68-70; Wiesinger 1862: 5-30; Güntner 1863: 317-19; Schott 1863: 154-88, 284-94; Steinfass 1863: 83-90; Weiss 1866: 255-308; Danko 1867: 476-78; Bisping 1871: 100-102; Hofmann 1875b: 128-41; Luthardt 1875: 16; Haneberg 1876: 705-707; Hundhausen 1878: 19-100; Thiersch 1879: 204-207; Spitta 1885: 475-82). In fact, numerous works from this period were specifically dedicated to demonstrating that the epistle was genuine (e.g., Flatt 1806; Dahl 1807; Olshausen 1822–27; Kern 1829; Moutier 1829; Armand-Delille 1835; Windischmann 1836; Heydenreich 1837; Henkel 1904; Grosch 1914; Snyman 1923). Part of these defenses focused on addressing questions of style. Contemporary scholarship on the New Testament had recently begun to refine the stylistic comparison of ancient documents. As part of this general trend, interpreters of 1 and 2 Peter sought to devote much closer attention to issues such as vocabulary, syntax, word-order, intertextuality, and rhetoric. Consequently, some of the fullest accounts of the differences between the Petrine epistles were produced at this time (e.g., Magnus 1835: 9-16; Mayerhoff 1835: 161-70; Farrar 1882b: 1:188-203; Davidson 1894: 2:546-51; Chase 1900: 3:807-809, 812-13; Strachan 1910: 106-109).
Not everyone was convinced by these efforts, however. Many proponents of 2 Peter’s authenticity continued to argue that the style of the letter simply did not diverge from 1 Peter to such an extent that it would undermine the authorship claims (e.g., Michaelis 1788: 2:1480-83; Dahl 1807: 60; Augusti 1801–1808: 2:13-14; Kern 1829: 16-19; Hug 1847: 2:480-82; Barnes 1875: ccix-ccxi; Hundhausen 1878: 72-80; Lumby 1881: 225-31). Others pushed back by challenging the use of style as a criterion for comparison. This was the approach of Heydenreich, who maintained that ‘one should not rely so much on such affinities or discrepancies of style and expression in investigations into the authenticity or non-authenticity of a text’ (1837: 90; cf. also Hug 1847: 2:487; Gaussen 1860: 1:501). These considerations, he suggested, are ‘always very uncertain’ (immer sehr unsicher). According to Heydenreich, style is an especially unreliable gauge of authenticity in cases like the Petrine epistles, where there is only a very small amount of literary material to compare (1837: 91; cf. Pott 1790: 163-68; Dahl 1807: 59; Gloag 1887: 214-16). ‘It is impossible’, he contended, ‘to form a complete and definite idea of an author’s style from so little’ (Heydenreich 1837: 91; cf. Michaelis 1788: 2:1480; Spitta 1885: 482). What is more, he also pointed to the vastly different subjects treated in 1 and 2 Peter, noting that this distinction makes stylistic comparison all the more difficult (Heydenreich 1837: 91; cf. Morus 1794: 214-15).
Others admitted that there were enough differences between 1 and 2 Peter to require an explanation. Numerous reasons were given for such a discrepancy, and very often interpreters offered more than one possibility. Echoing earlier approaches, some argued that stylistic variation is a natural and expected part of the writing process (Horne 1856: 606-607; Wordsworth 1867: 73), and as such, the literary style of an individual can and will change depending on certain factors. One crucial factor frequently mentioned in this discussion was subject matter or content (so, e.g., Macknight 1806: 5:514-15; Bloomfield 1855: 730; Wiesinger 1862: 17-21; Wordsworth 1867: 70-73; Fausset 1875: 515; Alford 1878: prol. 4:156-57; Hofmann 1875b: 128-39). Those defending the authenticity of 2 Peter pointed out that the letters addressed vastly different topics, with 1 Peter focusing on persecution and 2 Peter being directed toward ‘false’ teaching on eschatology. In the latter, it was noted, there was no occasion on which to mention topics such as baptism or Christ’s role as shepherd of his people. Related to this, scholars argued that different situations would have given rise to varying emotions or moods that are displayed in the two letters (so, e.g., Bloomfield 1855: 730; Wordsworth 1867: 70-73; Lumby 1881: 230; Alford 1878: prol. 4:156-57; Hundhausen 1878: 73-74). Another factor that was sometimes mentioned is the impact that time plays on a person’s writing style. How an author communicates often changes over time—and especially over an extended amount of time. This, they argued, could be relevant in the situation of 2 Peter, wherein the author anticipates his imminent death, which might thus imply that he had aged since the composition of 1 Peter (e.g., Guerike 1854: 479; cf. also Pott 1790: 163).
Rather than appealing to the unintentional effect of factors related to the writing process, Schott (1863: 185) maintained that the differences between 1 and 2 Peter were intentional acts of the Petrine author. He argued that these stylistic changes were made with a view toward the situations addressed by the letters. Since 1 Peter was written to Gentile Christians in areas that were familiar with Paul, the apostle Peter wrote that letter in a way that suppressed his own individuality and in a way that would have sounded familiar to his readers, whom he had never met. Schott accordingly describes 1 Peter as ‘the product of no small self-denying labor of Peter’ (das Erzeugniß einer nicht geringen selbstverleugnenden Arbeit des Petrus; 1863: 185). Then, once a connection had been established between the apostle and these communities, and since the persecution of the readers had dissipated, Peter was able to write in his own style and using his own personality in 2 Peter.
Although the translator hypothesis of Jerome was not popular at this time, there were a few who continued to promote it. Advocates were nonetheless divided over whether this translation was made from a written document or from the oral speech of the apostle. Those who advocated the former view maintained that 2 Peter was translated from an earlier Hebrew or Aramaic original (e.g., King 1871; Wohlenberg 1923a: xxxv-xxxvi; cf. Sherlock 1725: 199-230; Benson 1756: 322-23; Whytehead 1854: 174, who claim that both Peter and Jude are quoting from a Hebrew source). This latter view was defended by Farrar (1882a: 419; cf. Falconer 1902: 56). He recognized that while the translator hypothesis held out the benefit of confirming the authenticity of 2 Peter, it also required sacrificing the close connection to the apostle (see Farrar 1882b: 1:180). Nevertheless, Farrar maintained that the spirit of the apostle Peter was still evident in the letter (1882b: 1:206-207).
It was against the backdrop of (and in competition with) these variegated attempts to explain the stylistic differences between 1 and 2 Peter that the amanuensis hypothesis continued to take shape. Just as it was in earlier periods, this view was rarely posited in the 18th and 19th centuries, and there was little progression in its theoretical underpinnings beyond the proposal of Calvin. A major reason why the theory was so uncommon in Reformation and post-Reformation scholarship was because of how interpreters understood the role of Silvanus in 1 Pet. 5.12. In this passage, the author claims to have written the letter ‘through Silvanus’ (διὰ Σιλουανοῦ). While the reference to compositional activity (ἔγραψα) opens the possibility that Silvanus might have functioned as an amanuensis, few adopted this interpretation (one exception: Ewald 1870: 6; cf. others who claimed that 1 Peter had been composed by Silvanus shortly after the death of Peter: Seufert 1885: 350-71; Usteri 1887: 345-47; Spitta 1885: 530-32; von Soden 1899: 115-18; Bornemann 1919–1920: 160); instead, the vast majority of scholars understood διὰ Σιλουανοῦ as a reference to Silvanus’ role as letter-carrier (e.g., Erasmus 1520: 52; Pellikan 1539: 737; Winckelmann 1705 [1608]: 1048; Dickson 1659: 298; Estius 1666: 1159; Froidmont 1678: 593; Benson 1756: 308; Nonnen 1758: 8; Macknight 1806: 5:505-506; Doddridge 1808: 225; Hensler 1813: 231; Jachmann 1838: 173-74; Wiesinger 1856: 334; Besser 1857: 405; Schott 1861: 334-36; Webster and Wilkinson 1861: 50; Wordsworth 1867: 67; Demarest 1851: 276-77; Lillie 1869: 331; Barnes 1875: 206; Fausset 1875: 514; Hofmann 1875a: 200-201; Hundhausen 1878: 464; Cook 1881: 219; Keil 1883: 173; Mason 1884: 435; Johnstone 1888: 407; Kühl 1897: 284; Monnier 1900: 244; Bennett 1901: 255). Consequently, Peter was assumed to have written 1 Peter with his own hand and through his own linguistic abilities.
This approach began to change near the end of the 19th century. An important impetus in this shift came from the work of Zahn, who noted the significance of this interpretation as it related to the authenticity of the Petrine epistles. He pointed out that, ‘[a]s long as one proceeded from the premise that 1 Peter was written by the hand of the apostle, and that 2 Peter was intended for the same group of readers as 1 Peter, the great difference in thought and language between the two letters was necessarily strong evidence against the authenticity of 2 Peter’ (Zahn 1899: 96). Such a line of reasoning, he maintained, was folly. According to Zahn, ‘[t]his argument falls to the ground, because both of these presuppositions have proved to be wrong’ (1899: 96). It was Zahn’s contention that Silvanus served as the amanuensis of 1 Peter and that Peter himself composed 2 Peter for a different audience than the one who received the first letter. Such a reconstruction was believed to possess strong explanatory power: It goes without saying that Peter in a letter to the Gentile-Christian communities across Asia Minor, which Silvanus wrote on Peter’s behalf and in his name, would be different from a handwritten letter from Peter to Jewish-Christian communities, who owed their Christian faith to him and his companions. In particular, it is clear that in the latter case Peter would show himself to possess a quite different consciousness of his apostolic calling and professional relationship to the readers (Pt letzteren gegenüber sich ganz anders von dem Bewußtsein seines apostolischen Berufs und seines berufsmäßigen Verhältnisses zu den Lesern erfüllt zeigen mußte). While in the former he is represented, and as it were, introduced by a missionary prominent in the communities of Asia Minor, in the latter the apostle of the circumcision speaks to the flock over which Christ had made him shepherd (1899: 96).
But while the proposal of Zahn marked a significant development in the formulation of the amanuensis hypothesis, it did not address how or why the use of Silvanus would have impacted the style of the letter so significantly. The ancient epistolary mechanism upon which the entire amanuensis hypothesis rests (viz. secretarial freedom) is assumed, but unexplored. It was in connection with the Pauline epistles that this key feature was later added.
The Historical Basis of the Amanuensis Hypothesis
The amanuensis hypothesis originated from attempts to explain the stylistic discrepancies between the Petrine epistles. But despite the fact that the theory was able to account for variations in the letters without denying their authorship claims, few interpreters from the Reformation and post-Reformation periods were led to adopt the view. Most were persuaded that any differences in style could be explained without appeal to a secretarial hand. This situation would begin to change during the 19th century, however. It was at this time that considerable emphasis was placed on stylistic analysis, with scholars undertaking the first systematic examinations of the vocabulary, diction, and phraseology of certain New Testament writings.
The Pauline Epistles, in particular, played a key role in this discussion. Based on stylistic investigation, critical scholars of the 19th century expressed their doubts about the authenticity of certain letters in the Pauline corpus (esp. the Pastoral Epistles). In response, defenders of the Pauline writings began to appeal more and more to the amanuensis hypothesis as a way to explain the stylistic variation on which critics had based their negative assessments. Nevertheless, proponents of this view had still not demonstrated the theory’s historical viability. That is, no one had proven, through a survey of the ancient source materials, that secretaries in the Greek and Roman worlds were afforded the freedom to shape the letters they transcribed. This lacuna would be filled in the early-20th century, when scholarship began to focus its attention on ancient letters and letter-writing conventions.
The Pastoral Epistles and the Beginnings of Stylistic Analysis
In antiquity, the letters of 1–2 Timothy and Titus were occasionally omitted (or rejected?) from consideration alongside other Pauline writings (see Tertullian, Marc. 5.21; Epiphanius, Pan. 42.9.3-4; Jerome, Prologue to Titus; cf. also Clement of Alexandria, Strom. 2.11.52.6; Origen, Comm. Matt. 117); however, the small amount of extant evidence provides no indication that this situation was based on stylistic evaluations. It was not until the early-19th century that the authenticity of any of these letters was challenged on stylistic grounds. The first modern scholar to question the genuineness of a letter within the Pauline corpus on this basis was F.D.E. Schleiermacher (1807; although, cf. Eichhorn 1804–1827: 3.1:318-19 n. 1, who claims this accomplishment for himself). Although his critique was limited to 1 Timothy, the study of Schleiermacher opened the door to further exploration into the authenticity of the Pastoral Epistles as a group.
Schleiermacher’s doubts about the authenticity of 1 Timothy were expressed in a letter-essay—written in German, rather than the traditional academic language of Latin—addressed to J.C. Gass. In this epistle, he hoped to provide a fuller defense of the theory that the two had only begun to discuss in passing (Schleiermacher 1807: 3-4). Aside from pointing out certain historical inconsistencies with the Acts of the Apostles, much of Schleiermacher’s case was grounded in the fact that 1 Timothy contains numerous terms and phrases that do not occur elsewhere in Pauline writings (1807: 27-76). At the same time, he noted a close correspondence with 2 Timothy and Titus. From this evidence, Schleiermacher concluded that 1 Timothy was a pseudonymous composition, written sometime in the second century, which borrowed from 2 Timothy and Titus.
As one of the earliest applications of higher criticism within New Testament scholarship, the theory of Schleiermacher was—as might be expected—met with strong opposition (e.g., Planck 1808; Beckhaus 1810; Wegscheider 1810: 9-36). But as others built upon this foundation over the ensuing decades, the strength of the position would eventually grow to become the majority position by the mid-20th century. One such study appeared only a few years after Schleiermacher published his groundbreaking work. In his introduction to the New Testament, J.G. Eichhorn rejected the authenticity of all three Pastoral Epistles (1804–1827: 3.1:315-410). While this view never rose above a minority position during the 19th century (e.g., Baur 1835: 8-39; Credner 1836: 1:448-87; Mayerhoff 1838: 11-19, 25-27, 32-34, 37-39; Neudecker 1840: 542-89; Schwegler 1846: 2:138-53; Bauer 1850–1852: 3:77-88; Saintes 1852: 47-154; de Wette 1848: 297-313; Plitt 1872: 1-7; Pfleiderer 1872: 832-38; Hilgenfeld 1875: 744-65; Huther 1876: 53-73; Bahnsen 1876: 1-8; Schenkel 1879: 357-63; Hincks 1897), it served to shift the discussion away from a focus solely on the genuineness of 1 Timothy to a consideration of all three letters as a group.
This position was given further stimulus by the two most thorough examinations of the stylistic problem in the Pastorals. In 1880, H.J. Holtzmann laid out, in a careful and comprehensive manner, a detailed case against Pauline authorship of the Pastorals. His critique addressed the problems associated with situating the letters within the lifetime of the apostle (1880: 15-53) and the key differences that distinguish the Pastorals from the undisputed Pauline epistles (1880: 126-252). An important part of his argument, however, was the fact that the style of the Pastorals diverged significantly from other Pauline writings (1880: 84-118). Not only are hapax legomena prevalent in the Pastorals, the letters lack certain characteristic features of Pauline style, such as his argumentative rhetoric and even Paul’s typical syntax.
Even more attention was devoted to the linguistic question by P.N. Harrison (1921; cf. also 1955). In an exercise in what is now referred to as stylometry, Harrison employed statistical analysis to reveal how and to what extent the style of the Pastorals diverged from the other Pauline letters. What is more, he communicated the results through numerous charts and graphs. This unique visual element allowed Harrison to further illustrate the stylistic variations of the Pastoral Epistles. However, style and grammar are addressed in the study (1921: 38-44), much of the focus is on vocabulary (1921: 20-38). As others had previously done, Harrison points out that the Pastorals contain a large number of hapax legomena. But through comparative analysis, he takes this observation further by demonstrating that many of these terms appear in the Apostolic Fathers and some early Christian apologists (1921: 67-86). On this basis, Harrison places the composition of the letters sometime in the second century CE (1921: 8).
Despite the growing number of scholars in the 19th and early-20th centuries who read the Pastoral Epistles as pseudepigraphic compositions, the majority of interpreters remained unconvinced by the historical and linguistic arguments (e.g., Bertholdt 1819: 3491-630; Heydenreich 1826–1828: 1:5-19; Curtius 1828; Schrader 1830: 177-257; Flatt 1831: 421-615; Mack 1836: 524-34; Böttger 1837; Leo 1837: vii-xxiv; 1850: ix-xxxviii; Matthies 1840: 3-48; Wieseler 1848: 286-315, 329-55, 461-78; Conder 1850: 191-213, 380-95; Oosterzee 1864: 2-6; Alford 1878: prol. 3:70-97; Conybeare and Howson 1860: 2:449-90; Laurent 1866: 104-105; Langen 1868: 116-24; Glaire 1868–1869: 5:3-17, 109-31; Herzog 1872: 1-39; Fairbairn 1874: 1-19; Hofmann 1874: 3-4, 55-62, 208-20, 315-22; Lewin 1875: 2:336-58, 375-409; Thiersch 1879: 147-49, 172-73; Koelling 1882–1887; Ellicott 1883: xx, 108, 178; Plummer 1891a: 3-16; Davidson 1894: 2:21-75; Stellhorn 1899: 1:1-10; Bernard 1899: xi-xlv; Belser 1907: 1-14; Brown 1917: xxiii-xx; Hillard 1919: xxiv-xxxv; Wohlenberg 1923b: 15-67; Meinertz 1931: 15-24). In fact, various studies from this time were specifically dedicated to defending the authenticity of the letters (e.g., Böhl 1829; Baumgarten 1837; Good 1848; Doumerge 1856; Mangold 1856; Dubois 1856; Otto 1860; Märcker 1861; Ginella 1865; James 1906; Bruston 1910; Maier 1920).
One of the key points that these works were forced to explain was why the Pastorals diverge stylistically from the other Pauline writings. To account for this situation, interpreters commonly appealed to the fact that stylistic differences are also present among the other Pauline epistles; as such, they maintained that the same should be expected in this instance as well (Bertholdt 1819: 3510; Heydenreich 1826–1828: 13; Böhl 1829: 8-9; Wiesinger 1850: 237-57; Meinertz 1931: 17). Further, it was stressed that the language by which Paul expressed himself in the undisputed letters would not exhaust his vocabulary, and therefore, scholars must be open to the possibility that he could employ new words and different expressions (Flatt 1831: 462-65).
Aside from this appeal to the breadth of Paul’s linguistic abilities, other factors were also noted when accounting for stylistic variation. One was the genre of the letters. The Pastoral Epistles represent Paul’s direct communication to individuals whom he had known for many years. By implication, scholars maintained that the style through which the apostle would have communicated to these co-workers would have been different from a missive directed toward a Christian congregation, which was intended to be read as a public document (e.g., Hort 1894: 131; Parry 1920: cxii-cxiv; Lock 1924: xxix). Others pointed to the variations that would have arisen simply on the basis of changes in subject matter (so, e.g., Ellicott 1883: xx; Plummer 1891a: 7; Alford 1868: 31-36) or those resulting from new circumstances (e.g., Böhl 1829: 10-11; Hillard 1919: xxxii-xxxiv). Proponents also noted that the ‘heretical’ ideas addressed in the Pastorals had not been otherwise encountered by Paul; therefore, the situation would have required a fresh vocabulary (e.g., Hemsen 1830: 197-210; Belser 1907: 13-14; Brown 1917: xxvi-xxvii). Finally, some appealed to the apostle’s advanced age to account for these stylistic differences. If the Pastorals are placed at the end of Paul’s ministry, with 2 Timothy being composed just prior to his death, this would have provided an opportunity for the apostle to gain further proficiency in the Greek language and would thus account for the improved stylistic quality (Böhl 1829: 10; Bernard 1899: xxxvi). At the same time, if Paul was imprisoned for a long period in Rome, as many proponents of authenticity claimed, this would also explain the influences of Latin on the letters (e.g., Wohlenberg 1923b: 55; Hitchcock 1928; cf. also Delitzsch 1851: 726).
Even though explanations like these were the common refrain among those who defended the Pastoral Epistles, the case set forth by Schleiermacher, Eichhorn, Holtzmann, and Harrison was at least enough to cast doubt on the adequacy of explaining these stylistic discrepancies as the standard variation within the works of a single author. For those willing to acknowledge the strength of their case, the amanuensis hypothesis provided an alternative explanation for the linguistic divergence. The first interpreter to move in this direction was H.A. Schott. Recognizing the difficulties created by the style of the Pastorals, but also wanting to avoid labeling the epistles as pious frauds, he viewed the secretary hypothesis as a mediating solution. Schott proposed that an associate composed the Pastorals due to the fact that Paul did not want to write out the letters by hand or to dictate them verbatim (Schott 1830: 324-25; cf. Warren 1894: 406-407). This companion—whom Schott conjectured to have been Luke—was granted license to write about issues that he and Paul had previously discussed and even to offer his own elaboration on such topics. At the end of these letters, Schott maintained that the apostle would have added his own salutation as a way to confirm their contents.
By the early 20th century, the amanuensis hypothesis had grown in popularity and had become a relatively common means of explaining the style of the Pastoral Epistles (e.g., Harvey 1888: 10; Warren 1894; Bernard 1899: xli; Bennett and Adeney 1899: 414; Laughlin 1905: 22-24; Scott 1909: 329-71; White 1910: 71-72; Rackham 1912: 384; Milligan 1913: 102-103; Headlam 1913: 7; 1920: 49; Allen and Grensted 1913: 216; Cobern 1929: 102-103; Bisseker 1920: 881; Gore 1922: 214; Sayce 1922: 488). Perhaps this was because, unlike the case of 2 Peter, the Pastorals allowed interpreters to identify a specific secretarial candidate, whose writings could be used to compare their stylistic similarity. Based on 2 Tim. 4.11, wherein the author claims, ‘Only Luke is with me’, most who adopted this position attributed the composition of the letters to Luke.
Variations of the amanuensis hypothesis were also put forth at this time. One alternative was proposed by R.A. Falconer. He maintained that while Luke composed all three of the Pastoral Epistles, they were not written at the same time. According to Falconer, 2 Timothy was transcribed during Paul’s imprisonment; 1 Timothy and Titus, on the other hand, were not composed until sometime after Paul’s death (Falconer 1922: 593). This represents a combination of a secretary theory and pseudonymity. A different type of amanuensis hypothesis was suggested by F.W. Farrar. Since Paul regularly employed secretaries in his other extant letters (cf. Rom. 16.22; 1 Cor. 16.21; Gal. 6.11; Phlm 19), Farrar suggested that the Pastoral Epistles were autographic, being directly composed by Paul himself (Farrar 1880: 745). This theory allows for the possibility that amanuenses could have influenced the style and content of individual letters, without assuming that they were involved in every composition.
The Modern Formulation of the Amanuensis Hypothesis
In the early part of the 20th century, a survey of contemporary trends in New Testament scholarship noted that a proper understanding of secretarial activity in the ancient world held out important implications for the authorship of the Pauline epistles. In particular, it was noted that this issue ‘may eventually prove to have considerable effect upon criticism based upon the language and style of the various Epistles’ (Jones 1914: 287; cf. Milligan 1913: 26).
This observation was especially pertinent given that, at this time, there was a wide variety of opinions on secretarial freedom. Many believed that the amanuenses of Paul functioned like stenographers, trying to keep pace with the rapidity of the apostle’s spirited and sometimes disjointed dictation (Moffatt 1911: 50 n. ¶; Pelly 1917: 10; Jenkins 1925: 169-71). While accident and inability sometimes hindered these aspirations, the intent was to write down every word of Paul exactly as it was spoken. To facilitate the task, it was sometimes maintained that the secretary employed shorthand (e.g., Kent 1916: 127; Allworthy 1918: 559). In certain instances, however, interpreters viewed it as necessary to posit a freer role for secretaries. However, the secretary used for the letter to the Romans may have transcribed Paul’s words very close to (if not identical with) the way they were dictated, in other letters (e.g., Colossians; Ephesians; Pastoral Epistles) the secretary may have been given simply a plan or a few ideas and allowed the freedom to write up the letter on their own (Harris 1898: 402; Nairne 1920: 61; Cobern 1929: 584-85). Most variations in vocabulary and style were thus explained by the manner in which Paul used secretaries.
The problem was that, even among those who adopted the amanuensis hypothesis, the impact of secretaries on the composition of the Pauline epistles was more often assumed than demonstrated (see Jones 1914: 288). What scholarship (still) lacked was a definitive treatment of the processes of ancient letter-writing, one devoted to discerning the level(s) of compositional freedom granted to amanuenses. This situation was remedied in the 20th century. It was at this time that scholars began to focus attention on ancient letter-writing, and secretarial activity was a natural point of interest. This shift in focus resulted in the modern formulation of the amanuensis hypothesis.
The Earliest Defense of Secretarial Freedom
The first defense of secretarial license, both as it relates to the composition of the Pauline epistles and to ancient literary conventions more broadly, was provided by O. Roller (1933), a German archivist whose previous work had been in the fields of genealogy and numismatics. In his initial venture into biblical studies, Roller analyzed the Pauline writings in light of letter-writing procedures from antiquity. More specifically, he examined the processes and materials employed in letter-writing, the time and effort involved, tachygraphy, and even the role of secretaries. Ultimately, his goal was to determine how Paul’s letters were composed and to thereby defend traditional authorship claims.
As its point of departure, Roller’s study took the fact that stylistic comparison had become a key criterion used to challenge the authenticity of certain Pauline epistles. While such an approach was intended to lend credibility to the investigation, Roller argued that the entire edifice was constructed on two questionable assumptions. Those who engaged in stylistic comparison assumed: (1) that Paul’s epistles were literary compositions and (2) that he wrote with his own hand or dictated verbatim to a secretary (1933: 2). Accordingly, Paul was responsible for both the content and the style of the letters, even down to the very words and phrases that were selected. Roller sought to challenge these assumptions, and in doing so, he hoped to relativize the value of style in the assessment of authorship.
The critique by Roller begins within an inquiry into the origins of Paul’s letters and more specifically into the role that the apostle may have played in writing them. He suggests that there are four ‘conceivable’ (denkbar) processes by which the epistles were composed (1933: 3). The contents of the letters could have been (a) handwritten by Paul, (b) dictated word-for-word to a secretary, who took down the contents much like a stenographer, (c) constructed by a secretary based on Pauline concepts or written drafts, or (d) independently conceived by a secretary, who had only received instructions from the apostle. With these possibilities as a guide, Roller next proceeds to explore what the ancient evidence reveals about the composition of the Pauline corpus.
The discussion of ancient secretarial usage is relatively short compared with the space devoted to other topics. It nonetheless plays a significant role in Roller’s overall argument. There are two key points, in particular, on which his case rests. First, he contends that while ancient writers—including Paul—occasionally wrote out letters with their own hands, the normal practice was to employ a secretary. This situation arose out of the difficulties involved in the process of letter writing (1933: 5-14). Many of the problems grew out of the writing materials themselves. Despite alternative resources that were sometimes employed for short letters (e.g., potsherds, wax tablets), papyrus was reserved for longer correspondences like the letters of Paul. But the rough surface made writing uncomfortable, especially for someone without training in transcription. Writing utensils were also inconvenient. Due to the nature of its mixture, the ink did not easily adhere to the papyrus fibers, and writers were required to constantly immerse their pen, resulting in a disruption of thought. Further, the reed pen required careful force so as to avoid puncturing the papyrus. Finally, strain on letter writers was created by the uncomfortable position of writing, which involved either standing or a crouching position. And, if this were not enough, one had to navigate a different typescript (cursive vs. uncial) depending on the nature of the composition.
Based on these difficulties, Roller concludes that ‘in the case of letters, as a rule, autographs are therefore certainly not to be taken for granted’ (Eigenhändigkeit ist also bei Briefen als Regel sicherlich nicht vorauszusetzen) (1933: 14). Nevertheless, certain formulary indicators led him to believe that Paul wrote out some letters with his own hand (1933: 187-91 with notes on 499-504). Among the list of autographic epistles, he included 1 Corinthians, Galatians, Colossians, 2 Thessalonians, and Philemon. Roller diagnosed the compositional process of these letters through a reference to Paul’s ‘own hand’ in the subscriptions (1 Cor. 16.21; Gal. 6.11; 2 Thess. 3.17; Col. 4.18; Phlm 19). Rather than viewing such final greetings as an indicator that Paul had dictated the body of the letter to a secretary, only to include his signature in the closing, Roller viewed the references to Paul’s ‘own hand’ as a sign of Paul’s direct involvement throughout. For Roller, therefore, any disputed Pauline epistles can only be judged against the style of these letters (see 1933: 22-23, 191).
In the case of letters that lack an autograph, Roller maintained that these were composed by a secretary. But how did this process of transcription take place? How were the Pauline secretaries employed? These questions gave rise to Roller’s second key argument related to amanuenses, viz. that ancient secretaries were commonly granted extensive freedom to shape the style and content of letters based on the fact that senders often provided them with only limited input. This conclusion grew out of two considerations. The first was a deduction from the nature of letter-writing itself. The process of transcription, as Roller understood it, was slow and tedious, with ancient authors having to dictate their correspondences syllable-by-syllable (1933: 16-17). In such an environment, Roller found it difficult to believe that Paul would employ secretaries as stenographers who took down each word that he spoke (cf. Hitchcock 1930: 273-74).
Second, Roller appealed directly to the ancient literary record, which he believed revealed evidence of secretarial license. A compositional procedure that ‘was widely employed in antiquity’ (1933: 19) involved a type of ghost-writing. In this process, ‘the secretary or someone else, perhaps a friend, was entrusted with the composition of a letter without further instructions as to the content’ (ohne genauere Anweisung über den Inhalt) (1933: 19). When this occurred, Roller argued, the designated author might not even see the dispatch before it was sent out, which sometimes happened without as much as a signature (1933: 19).
To illustrate this practice, Roller draws (primarily) from the writings of Cicero, where he points to numerous instances in which permission is granted to another individual to compose a letter in the name of Cicero (see Att. 5.15, 21; 11.5, 7, 8, 15; 12.17; 16.15). For instance, in one letter Cicero makes the following request of his trusted friend, Atticus: ‘Please send letters in my name to such persons as you think proper—you know my friends’ (Att. 11.2 [LCL]). While there are various ways to interpret Cicero’s entreaty to write in his name, his intention becomes clearer from the warning that follows: ‘If they notice the absence of my seal (signum) or handwriting (manum), please say that I have avoided using them owing to the sentries’ (Att. 11.2 [LCL]). Such caution seems to indicate that Cicero is asking Atticus to write not simply on his behalf, but also in his stead; that is, he wants Atticus to compose and dispatch a letter as though it derived from Cicero himself, even though Cicero would have no part in its composition.
Another reference used by Roller to illustrate the substantive influence of secretaries comes from a passing remark made by Philostratus of Lemnos (3rd century CE) in his treatise, On Letters. Therein the ancient sophist mentions certain exemplars of epistolary style. Among them, he includes, ‘Brutus or whomever Brutus employed to compose his letters (ὅτῳ Βροῦτος ἐς τὸ ἐπιστέλλειν ἐχρῆτο)’, and he also cites, ‘the divine Marcus [Aurelius] when he himself wrote (ἐν οἷς ἐπέστελλεν αὐτός)’ (De epistulis 42). The distinctions that Philostratus draws here are understood to mean that when Brutus and Marcus Aurelius used secretaries, the letters that were produced reflected the style of the secretary, not the ascribed author. According to Roller, this consideration holds out important implications for assessing the authorship claims of certain epistles. By eliminating, or at least minimizing, the sender’s role in the composition process, he argues that ‘the style of such letters can no longer serve as an indication of authenticity’ (Der Stil kann bei solchen Briefen nicht mehr als Zeichen der Echtheit dienen) (1933: 19).
The importance of accounting for secretarial license on epistolary style is further illustrated as Roller turns to the Pastoral Epistles (1933: 20-22; cf. also 1933: 93-99). His focus is specifically directed toward the letter of 2 Timothy. Since this epistle is said to have been written while Paul was in prison (2 Tim. 1.8, 16; 2.9), Roller argues that the apostle would not have composed the letter himself. He rules out this possibility based on the extremely difficult living conditions (e.g., darkness, cramped space) and the lack of material resources (e.g., pen, papyrus). This situation is also thought to exclude dictating the letter to a trusted associate. The only option, according to Roller, would have been to allow a secretary to draft the letter based on statements from the apostle. This composition would have been corrected and then approved by Paul, who would have added a closing in his own hand. Such a reconstruction, Roller contends, ‘would… explain the different style’ in which 2 Timothy was composed (1933: 21). Moreover, he suggests that ‘a similar relationship can be assumed wherever there are differences in style in the Pauline letters’ (1933: 21).
When Roller’s study was first published, it was met with mixed reviews. In one instance, it was lauded as an ‘epochemachenden Buch’ (Feine and Behm 1936: 208), although such an evaluation represented an exception within critical scholarship. While contemporary interpreters were impressed by the thorough and erudite nature of the work, especially given that Roller was not a specialist in the field of biblical studies, papyrology, or classics, most remained unconvinced by his ultimate conclusions (see Oepke 1934; Preisker 1935). Those who commented on the book were generally reserved in their criticisms (cf. Eschlimann 1946: 185 n. 2; Sevenster 1968: 12), but a few were more candid and vitriolic. One critic, in fact, described the book as a ‘grossly amateurish work (grob dilettantenhaften Arbeit) in many respects’ (Percy 1946: 10 n. 62).
For the most part, however, the study of Roller was ignored (cf. Richards 2004: 30 n. 54: ‘Many make a token nod to Roller, citing him in an early footnote, but do not take seriously his conclusions’). The few responses that it received were relatively brief (Evans 1970: 254-55), with detractors providing little more than curt rejections of his claims (Kümmel 1964: 176, 270-71; Dibelius and Conzelmann 1976: 5). But even though most critical engagement was not proportionate to the amount of space that Roller devoted to presenting his case, legitimate questions were nonetheless raised. Some took issue with Roller’s reconstruction of the ancient letter-writing process (Percy 1946: 11-12 n. 62; Michaelis 1946: 252), and, in doing so, called into question the theoretical foundations of his position. More specifically, critics maintained that Roller vastly overestimated the time and effort it would have taken to write a letter in antiquity. His inflated approximations, they surmised, were due to misunderstandings surrounding the practice of lucubratio and to the misreading of key texts that reference the length of the compositional process and the materials used in that process. Other claims of Roller, such as the idea that most ancient letters were composed by secretaries, were simply dismissed as ‘obviously quite absurd’ (Percy 1946: 13 n. 62).
Reviewers also questioned Roller’s interpretation of the texts used to argue that letters were often independently composed by secretaries after receiving minimal instructions from a sender (Percy 1946: 12-13 n. 62). According to critics, these passages could be read in a manner that is consistent with such a practice, but this was by no means the only way to read them. Alternative interpretations, they argued, were equally (if not more) plausible. What is more, they pointed out that even if Roller’s conclusions about ancient letter-writing were accurate, they would stand in sharp contrast to the epistolary procedures of Paul. However, ‘ghost writing’ took place when a sender was otherwise engaged and unable to write for themselves or when they had little of significance to communicate, Paul’s letters were deeply personal and (in his mind) highly important (Percy 1946: 14 n. 62). Their composition represented a task that could not simply be delegated to an associate without further thought or engagement.
Finally, challenges were leveled against the specific reconstructions by which Roller explained the composition of the Pauline epistles. Few were convinced by the criteria Roller used to determine which letters were Pauline autographs and which were transcribed by a secretary. Even those who were sympathetic to the amanuensis hypothesis preferred to interpret the reference to Paul’s ‘own hand’ as an indication of secretarial involvement (see van Roon 1974: 93 n. 4). What is more, opponents doubted whether secretarial activity was sufficient to explain the problems surrounding disputed letters like the Pastorals (see Michaelis 1946: 252-55; Lohse 1972: 29-30). A question for which some did not feel Roller had adequately accounted was their historical background: if 2 Timothy was written by a secretary due to the fact that Paul was in prison, it is difficult to explain why 1 Timothy and Titus share the same style when they reflect different circumstances. Further, if old age potentially played a role in the differences between the Pastorals and other letters in the Pauline corpus, as Roller surmised, then one is left to explain how Paul, in his old age (cf. Phlm 9), could write a letter to Philemon in a style that is consistent with that of earlier undisputed epistles.
Among those who defended the authorship claims of the Pauline epistles, however, the study of Roller offered fresh stimulus. By carefully defining and documenting the variegated roles of secretaries in the ancient letter-writing process, Roller had finally provided the amanuensis hypothesis with something that it had previously lacked: a historical foundation. From this starting point, many would continue to explain the stylistic discrepancies in the Pauline epistles through the use of a secretary (with regard to the Pastoral Epistles, see, e.g., Jeremias 1934: 8-9; Simpson 1954: 18; Kelly 1963: 25-27; Ambroggi 1964: 35; Spicq 1969: 1:199-200; Fee 1984: 26; Oden 1989: 14; cf. also Metzger 1958: 91).
Various studies on letter-writing practices appeared over the next few decades, and in each case, the same conclusion was reached: secretaries were commonly employed in antiquity to compose letters, and when this occurred, they were sometimes afforded the license to shape their style and content (see, e.g., Eschlimann 1946; Bahr 1966; Longenecker 1974). This interpretive unanimity served to further validate the theory—at least within the conservative circles in which this view was most commonly espoused. What was still lacking, however, was systematization. To understand (and to be able to affirm) secretarial freedom required a clearer sense of all the potential ways that amanuenses could function in the ancient letter-writing process. This comprehensive overview of secretarial activity would finally be added in the late-20th century.
Refining and Popularizing the Amanuensis Hypothesis
Over the last three decades, the leading proponent of the amanuensis hypothesis has been E.R. Richards. Throughout his career, Richards has written extensively on ancient letter-writing practices as they relate to the New Testament and to the wider Greco-Roman world (2004, 2008, 2012, 2013, 2017, 2019). But it was his earliest contribution on the subject, the publication of his doctoral dissertation, that has provided the fullest articulation of the amanuensis hypothesis (Richards 1991). This thorough and informed examination of secretarial activity in antiquity has been further refined in subsequent studies (see Richards 2004: 59-93; 2008: 640; 2012; 2013: 358-60). Through these efforts, Richards’ definition and defense of the theory has become highly influential: virtually all modern scholars who espouse secretarial freedom trace their views back to the work of Richards.
The form of the amanuensis hypothesis set forth by Richards contains many echoes of Roller’s earlier conception; yet it also offers refinement and correction that provides the theory with a more stable historical foundation. Two corrections, in particular, contribute to a more informed perspective on ancient secretarial practices. First, Richards demonstrates that there was in fact a system of Greek shorthand in operation at the time when the New Testament epistles were composed (1991: 26-43; 2022). This means that it would have been possible—in theory—to transcribe a letter at the speed of ordinary speech (i.e., viva voce), thus circumventing the laborious task of syllable-by-syllable dictation that led Roller to posit a freer and more independent role for many ancient secretaries (although Richards notes that secretaries trained in shorthand were uncommon, see 2004: 30-31; 2022).
Second, Richards proposes criteria for detecting the use of a secretary that are much more compelling than those adopted by Roller (although, cf. Hull 2005: 74, who describes Richards’ conclusions as ‘vague and, sometimes, infelicitous’). However, the latter focused on Paul’s reference to material written in his ‘own hand’, Richards explores both external (e.g., references by author/secretary, changes in handwriting) and internal (e.g., postscript, authorial preference, letter-type, stylistic variation) evidence that may indicate when the services of an amanuensis have been employed (1991: 68-97). On the basis of these considerations, he judges it to be ‘certain’ that six of the letters attributed to Paul were written with secretarial assistance (Romans, 1 Corinthians, Galatians, Colossians, 2 Thessalonians, Philemon). In other instances, the presence of an amanuensis is thought to be ‘probable’ (2 Corinthians, Ephesians, 1 Thessalonians), while in some cases the use of a secretary is ‘unascertainable’ (Philippians) (see Richards 1991: 189-92). A judgment about the Pastoral Epistles is withheld, although Richards notes that if the letters are authentic, ‘then a secretary can explain some of their differences from the other Pauline correspondence’ (1991: 192).
When Richards addresses the compositional freedom of amanuenses, he draws upon some of the same evidence that was originally set forth by Roller, although he ultimately reaches slightly different conclusions. Like Roller, Richards charts secretarial activity along a spectrum, with varying positions being distinguished by the extent to which the secretary was granted the freedom to shape the style, content, and form of the letter. He argues that an amanuensis could function as a recorder, editor, co-author, or composer (Richards 1991: 23-67).
At one end of the spectrum, where the author has the greatest impact on the shape of the letter, the secretary could have performed the role of ‘recorder’. In this case, the sender would have dictated the letter to the secretary who would have recorded the words verbatim or nearly verbatim (Richards 1991: 23). This strict form of dictation could have been carried out either at the speed of writing, with the secretary recording syllable-by-syllable (1991: 25-26) or at the speed of normal speech, using a form of shorthand (1991: 26-43). Although many have imagined that the letters of the New Testament were composed in a manner that was consistent with the latter, with amanuenses writing fervently in an attempt to keep pace with the flowing sermonic thoughts of the apostolic authors, Richards contends that secretaries trained in this form of shorthand would have been unavailable to most letter writers, including Paul (1991: 25, 195; 2004: 30-31; 2022). Therefore, if the apostle’s desire was to have his message reproduced as closely as possible, then it would have required the slow and tedious process of syllabatim dictation. The one exception to this rule, according to Richards, may be Paul’s letter to the Romans, which could have been composed through a form of viva voce dictation (1991: 171-72).
At the other end of the spectrum, where the secretary is thought to have more control over the form and content of the letter, the amanuensis is said to have functioned as a ‘composer’. In such instances, Richards suggests that the author may have offered the secretary general guidelines about what to include in the correspondence, or the author may have done nothing more than provide the necessary approval after the epistle was completed. In either case, the skills and compositional preferences of the amanuensis played the determinative role in the letter’s final form. ‘The practice was possible’, Richards notes, ‘only because ancient Greco-Roman letters, especially official and business letters, had a set form, vocabulary and style’ (2004: 77; cf. 1991: 49). To illustrate this type of secretarial function, he points to many of the same passages put forward by Roller (e.g., Cicero, Att. 3.15; 11.2, 5, 7; Philostratus, De epistulis 42), while also supplementing the list (Cicero, Fam. 1.10; 8.1.1; Quint. fratr. 1.2.8). But despite the time and effort that Richards spends delineating this category, in the end he concludes—in a departure from the earlier study of Roller—that the practice would have been uncommon in antiquity, and he acknowledges that there is no evidence that such a role was performed by an ordinary secretary. In the few instances in which it did occur, the contents of the letter were unimportant to the sender, and the act was intended to deceive the recipients (Richards 1991: 107-111; 2004: 92; 2012: 126 n. 65). He even goes so far as to say that ‘without an explicit reference to the use of a secretary as the composer of a letter, this secretarial method probably should not even be considered a valid option, for there is not an epistolary situation that by itself is sufficient to suggest this role of the secretary’ (1991: 111). All of this, according to Richards, seems to rule out the possibility that Paul employed a secretary as a composer (2004: 92).
In the view of Richards, the majority of secretarial activity in antiquity lies somewhere between the two extremes of recorder and composer. Yet, how and where one locates such practices more precisely represents the primary point of contention within scholarship. In his earlier work, Richards proposed two distinct functions within this range: ‘editor’ and ‘co-author’ (1991: 43-49, 102-107). Later, he combines them into one category, ‘contributor’, although still allowing for a range of activities therein (2004: 74-77). In an editorial role, the author would have retained a greater influence on the final product, even though the secretary contributed to the improvement of the letter through the introduction of new vocabulary, revised syntax, and/or an alternative arrangement of existing content. Such alterations would have been particularly appropriate when the amanuensis was working from an author’s written draft (Richards 1991: 44, 102-105, 162). From the letters of Cicero, it appears that educated and rhetorically trained letter writers would have commonly employed secretaries in this capacity (e.g., Fam. 16.4.3; 16.10.2; 16.11.1; 16.17.1), and this is how Richards envisions the use of secretaries by the apostle Paul (1991: 195).
Although the lines drawn between them may be artificial (cf. Richards 2004: 80), the editorial role of an amanuensis could be distinguished from the function of co-author. In this latter capacity, a secretary would have taken ‘an active role in the composition of the letter’ beyond ‘the correction of grammar or phraseology’ and beyond ‘mere editing’, and as a result of these efforts, ‘the letter would reflect, in at least some way, the thoughts of the secretary as well as that of the author’ (Richards 1991: 48). With reference to the letters of Paul, Richards describes a potential situation in which this type of collaboration might have worked: Unable to maintain the complete precision of verbatim transcription, the secretary took notes as complete and detailed as he could. He then prepared a rough draft, probably on washable papyrus sheets or stacks of wax tablets. Paul and his team heard the letter read and made corrections and additions… The process of editing and revising continued until Paul and his team were completely satisfied, since they, and especially Paul, had ultimate responsibility for every word of the letter (Richards 2004: 93).
For Richards, what is especially important here is to emphasize ancient (rather than modern) concepts of authorship. The authority of a work, he contends, should not be confused with singular authorship (Richards 2012: 131; 2013: 359). As evidence, he points to the fact that Josephus used ‘collaborators’ (συνεργοί; Ag. Ap. 1.50) to write The Jewish War, and that by doing so was able to improve the stylistic quality of the work beyond what he had earlier produced in Jewish Antiquities (Richards 2012: 131); nevertheless, all would consider Josephus to be the author of both publications. Similarly, Cicero describes a letter from Pompey that was ‘Sestian in its style’ (Att. 15.3), which is taken to mean that Sestius had assisted in the composition of the epistle. Yet, again, it was still considered to be a letter by Pompey (Richards 2012: 131).
To some extent, the response toward Richards’ formulation of the amanuensis hypothesis has mirrored that of Roller: many critical scholars have been skeptical of his conclusions (e.g., Grappe 1992; Betz 1992; cf. Murphy-O’Connor 1993; Prior 1996, who were more reserved in their critiques), despite being complementary of the judicious manner in which he engages a large quantity of ancient source materials. Objections have focused especially on the method by which Richards attempts to demonstrate his case. One concern frequently voiced by critics is that Richards’ reconstruction of secretarial activity relies too heavily on the letters of Cicero (Arzt 1991: 235; Penna 1992: 286; Betz 1992: 619; Weima 1992: 301; Prior 1996: 87-88). Given the numerous differences between Paul and Cicero (e.g., geographic location, language, economic class, etc.), many have wondered whether such comparisons are appropriate (cf. Ehrman 2013: 219-20; although, see Richards 2017 and 2019, where a comparison is made between the letter-writing practices of Paul, Seneca, and Cicero).
But more than just applicability, the representative nature of this evidence has also been called into question. As noted by one reviewer, the ‘danger’ of such a procedure ‘is that a particular use of a secretary could be singular to Cicero and thus be misleading for a comparison with Paul’ (Weima 1992: 301; cf. Richards 1991: 13 n. 69 where this possibility is acknowledged and where further attestation outside of Cicero’s letters is prescribed). This consideration is important given that some recent interpreters have argued that the evidence from other ancient authors suggests a different compositional process, one that runs counter to the level of secretarial license proposed by Richards (see Cadwallader 2018: 393-96, who examines the letter-writing mechanics of Pliny the Younger; cf. also Ehrman 2013: 218-22, who challenges Richards’ interpretation of the passages in question).
For some, Richards’ concentrated focus on the evidence from Cicero stands in sharp contrast to his limited discussion of the Pauline corpus. In fact, the disparity in which these topics were treated led Sewell to question whether the title of the book (The Secretary in the Letters of Paul) might be misleading. He noted that, while Richards attempts to identify the letters in which Paul may have employed secretarial assistance, ‘he does little more than make hints about what this might mean for our interpretation of the letters as such’ (Sewell 1993: 536; cf. Cuvillier 1992: 110; Moda 1994: 199). In all fairness, we should point out that Richards acknowledges the limited extent to which Paul’s letters are treated in his study. He admits that in many ways it is ‘still a prolegomenon to the role of a secretary in Paul’ (Richards 1991: 2). Nevertheless, this consideration is still important given how Richards’ work has been received among those who defend the amanuensis hypothesis (see below).
According to some critics, it was not just later readers of Richards’ work that extended his conclusions beyond what the evidence will allow. The same criticism has been directed toward Richards himself. In response to Richards’ claim that interpreters must account for secretarial influence even when Paul exercised control over the composition (Richards 1991: 201), Lindemann was led to conclude that ‘the secretary hypothesis cannot be used in a methodologically controllable manner’ (die Sekretärs-Hypothese nicht methodisch kontrollierbar einsetzen läßt) (1992: 917). Others who have interacted with Richards’ work seem to agree. They argue that such a method, if pushed to its logical conclusion, could be used not only to authenticate all thirteen epistles written in the name of Paul, but even to deny the phenomenon of pseudepigraphy altogether (Arzt 1991: 235; Penna 1992: 288; Tuckett 1992: 123-24; cf. also Cuvillier 1992: 110). As a way to further temper such conclusions, therefore, some have stressed that stylistic variation is only one of many objections raised against the disputed Pauline epistles (Penna 1992: 288). They point out that other considerations, such as the historical situation reflected in the letter or the letter’s reception among early Christian writers, must also factor into any decision about an epistle’s authenticity.
A final objection raised against the amanuensis hypothesis of Richards is the fact that ancient literary critics commonly differentiated between authors based on their individual writing styles (cf. Penna 1992: 288). Although Richards addresses stylistic variation in epistolary literature, he denies that authenticity judgments were made on this basis. He maintains instead that ‘[v]ariations in style were simply not items of suspicion, because of the influences of a secretary’ (1991: 95; cf. 1991: 97; 2004: 146-47). However, opponents have challenged whether the evidence he provides (Cicero, Att. 3.12; 11.16) actually corroborates such a conclusion. Further, they argue that his claim runs counter to a large amount of ancient source materials. Not only were individual authors thought to possess a distinct and consistent literary style, but there are various instances where style is explicitly used to determine who wrote a given work (see Ehrman 2013: 138-39, 218-22).
Part of the problem, it seems, is that Richards’ definition of style is so nuanced that his argument is in danger of being hollow. In this instance, Richards adopts what he describes as ‘a more encompassing sense’ of style, which is defined as ‘a manner of expression characteristic of an individual, period, school, or nation’ (1991: 93 n. 115). While one could quibble over this definition, it is not objectionable in and of itself. The problem is how it is immediately (and without justification or explanation) limited to specific characteristics, including ‘the proclivity for the diatribe, the manner or extent of the citation of authorities, or, as possibly in the letters of Epicurus, the readdressing of the recipient before closing imperatives’ (1991: 93-94 n. 115). By thus narrowing the referent, Richards excludes features such as diction, phraseology, grammar, and vocabulary—all of which are characteristics that make up and define an author’s literary style (although, cf. Richards 1991: 105, where he later includes diction, grammar, syntax among the ‘minor’ elements of style). The reason why Richards’ (re-)definition is important is because it allows him to circumvent a serious challenge to his thesis: if secretaries (regularly and substantially) impacted the style of the letters they transcribed, then how could ancient literary critics ever employ stylistic analysis to distinguish between authors?
These critiques have not only exposed several weaknesses in the most popular formulation of the amanuensis hypothesis, they have also posed legitimate questions that have not been sufficiently answered by proponents of the theory. For many critics, such challenges are sufficient to demonstrate that the amanuensis hypothesis is unpersuasive. But it would be unwise to dismiss an idea simply on the basis that individual defenses have (in the eyes of opponents) not been compelling—especially when the larger epistolary question remains unanswered. In other words, regardless of whether Richards has convincingly established that secretarial license can account for the stylistic problems that surround the deutero-Pauline and Catholic Epistles, one is still left to address the initial question: what level(s) of compositional freedom was/were afforded to ancient secretaries during the letter-writing process? Critics of the amanuensis hypothesis have yet to fully address this question through a comprehensive examination of the role of secretaries in the Greco-Roman world. This consideration is especially important given that some of the evidence that Richards produces has not been adequately engaged by those who reject secretarial license. The idea of co-authorship is one the needs further engagement, particularly in light of the emphasis that has recently been placed on the collective nature of the compositional process in antiquity (e.g., Botha 2009; Butticaz 2016; although, cf. Prior 1996: 88, who criticizes Richards for ‘not distinguish[ing] adequately between the activity of the co-author of a letter, and that of a secretary’).
The lack of progress in modern discussions on the amanuensis hypothesis cannot be attributed solely to the theory’s opponents, however. Those who have been more receptive to Richards’ conclusions have contributed to this situation in a different way. As soon as Richards’ dissertation first appeared, interpreters recognized its potential to relativize the stylistic objections that critical scholars commonly raise against disputed New Testament epistles (see Ellis 1992). Yet, time and again, its conclusions have been uncritically adopted and indiscriminately applied by subsequent advocates of the amanuensis hypothesis. In fact, when the topic is discussed within modern scholarship, it usually involves the mere rehearsal of the varying levels of secretarial activity proposed by Richards along with the evidence that he used to support this idea (see, e.g., Murphy-O’Connor 1995: 8-16; Klauck 2006: 55-60; Blumell 2006: 208-26; 2014: 40-46; Elmer 2008: 45-60; Lee 2021). Rarely does one find that any new data has been brought into the discussion as a way to supplement or extend the theory’s defense.
The thousands of ancient letters from the documentary papyri are one data set that could prove especially beneficial for the amanuensis hypothesis. They offer scholars the potential to measure secretarial freedom in actual epistolary compositions from antiquity. In his work, Richards makes use of the papyri, but mostly to inform the question indirectly. For instance, appeal is made to documentary epistles to determine which groups of people employed secretaries during the letter-writing process (1991: 20-23; cf. 2004: 62-64). Richards does, however, make occasional reference to letters with elevated style that were written (presumably) for illiterate or semi-literate senders. He notes, ‘the papyri… are filled with examples of well-formed letters, with all the appropriate language and phraseology, being sent by an illiterate writer who could scarcely scratch a closing farewell. Obviously, the secretary took quite a bit of license in shaping those letters, well beyond merely correcting grammar or phraseology’ (2004: 76; cf. Richards 2012: 123-24, 131; see also Elmer 2008: 47; Blumell 2014: 43). Such evidence would be especially relevant for the application of the amanuensis hypothesis to the Catholic Epistles, where proponents often assume that the quality Greek in which these letters were composed should be attributed to a secretary rather than the nominal authors (see below).
But is it possible, through epistolary analysis, to draw these types of distinctions between the contributions of an illiterate sender and those of a secretary? One way to test the level of secretarial involvement in letters transcribed for illiterate senders would be to locate secretarial compositions written in a competent hand but containing substandard language (e.g., orthography, syntax, etc.). In such instances, one could conclude that the secretary merely transcribed the words of an illiterate individual verbatim. However, certain factors make it difficult to demonstrate the reverse (i.e., that a secretary took an active role in composing a letter for an illiterate sender). Not only must one verify that the sender was illiterate, but also that they lacked the communicative abilities to orally articulate the contents of a letter. While a reasonable attempt could be made to address the latter question by focusing on the skills and abilities developed through the various levels of literate education (although Richards makes no appeal to this type of comparison), the former often proves impossible in private letters, due especially to the lack illiteracy formulas. So, due to the limitations of our evidence, an appropriate level of caution is necessary here. At most, one might be able to address the influence of secretarial activity among those who were signature-literate. A more appropriate way forward would be to determine, through a close stylistic comparison of multiple letters, whether the levels of secretarial freedom that Richards discerns in the literary sources are on display in the documentary papyri (cf. Longenecker 1974, whose conclusions on secretarial freedom far exceed his examination of the papyrological evidence). This could be done by comparing letters that an individual secretary transcribed for multiple authors, letters transcribed by different secretaries for the same individual, or a letter transcribed by an amanuensis with an autograph by that same author (cf. Halla-aho 2017, although her interpretation of the papyrological evidence seems to have been influenced by Richards’ views).
The letters of Paul are another data set that has not been fully addressed by proponents of the amanuensis hypothesis. There are many who appeal to Richards’ study as though it definitively establishes that Paul allowed his secretaries extensive freedom in the composition of his letters (e.g., Ellis 1998: 77). Yet this remains to be demonstrated, both from further investigation into secretarial activity in the Greco-Roman world and from individual Pauline epistles (see Fiore 1993: 392; Cuvillier 1992: 110; note the methodological objections raised by Moda 1994: 199). As noted above, Richards describes his early study as ‘a prolegomenon to the role of a secretary in Paul’ (Richards 1991: 2), and while he proposes various ways that Paul may have employed amanuenses to compose his letters, he concludes by noting that ‘[a] letter by letter (or perhaps even a section by section) analysis is needed before further differentiation can be made’ (1991: 195). Since Richards first made this suggestion (and even before), a great deal of work on the style of Paul’s letters has been undertaken (e.g., Besançon Spencer 1998; Van Nes 2018; Brookins 2022). The results of these studies need be factored into the discussion, and more works like these should be undertaken.
Flowing out of these comparative examinations of ancient epistles (and being directly informed by them), proponents of the amanuensis hypothesis also need to add greater specificity to their descriptions of the varying roles of secretaries. In his recent work on the subject, Richards combines the role of ‘editor’ and ‘co-author’, including both under the designation, ‘contributor’ (2004: 74-77). But by collapsing these categories, one could argue that it prevents key distinctions from being drawn. For instance, many critics of the amanuensis hypothesis are open to the possibility that the secretaries of Paul offered minor editorial assistance, yet they are hesitant to allow secretaries a role that is equal to (or even greater than) that of Paul. According to the current nomenclature, however, in both situations the secretary would be performing the role of ‘contributor’. Therefore, in as much as the ancient evidence will allow, further attention needs to be devoted to the specific secretarial tasks that could distinguish one role from another—as artificial as such distinctions might be. What specific alterations were made to a letter by a secretary functioning as an editor? What specific contributions were made to a letter when a secretary was performing the role of co-author? How much and what type of editorial work would a secretary need to perform before being considered a co-author? The answers to these questions should flow out of (and be illustrated by) specific examples of secretarial activity within documentary and literary epistles (cf. Richards 1991: 43-49, who distinguishes the two mostly on the basis of comments from Cicero). Only when there is a clearer demarcation between what constitutes editorial activity and what constitutes co-authorship will scholars be able to determine how to best explain the differences between the disputed Pauline epistles and the rest of the Pauline corpus.
In the absence of attempts to further extend the evidential basis of the amanuensis hypothesis, proponents have left the theory vulnerable to critique. This problem becomes even more acute when considered against the theory’s history of development. Since the amanuensis hypothesis was originally postulated, numerous criticisms have been leveled against it (see above). Nevertheless, those who have followed the conclusions of Richards have done little to address these issues. As it stands, therefore, the fundamental tenets of the amanuensis hypothesis require further attention. While opponents might characterize the situation more somberly, contending that the cogency of prior critiques demands a full-scale reformulation of the theory (if not its abandonment), in the very least the unanswered objections demand more concentrated focus if proponents hope to establish the theory’s validity.
The Explanatory Power of the Amanuensis Hypothesis
While the amanuensis hypothesis was first postulated to account for stylistic discrepancies among epistles allegedly written by the same author, it quickly became apparent that its explanatory power could extend to other areas as well. In particular, it offered a new lens through which to view the quality of highly stylized letters purported to have been written by authors without the requisite linguistic and/or literate abilities.
Throughout the history of scholarship, it has been common for those who defend the authenticity of the Catholic Epistles to attribute direct involvement to the ascribed authors; that is, proponents maintain that, despite being craftsmen and traders from villages in rural Galilee, James, Peter, and Jude possessed the skills necessary to compose the letters attributed to them. Yet, as critical interpreters focused their attention on the style of New Testament epistles, questions were inevitably raised about the quality of the Catholic Epistles. While the letters of James, 1–2 Peter, and Jude clearly display signs of Semitic interference, they also contain some of the most highly stylized Greek in the New Testament. This literary accomplishment has been difficult for some scholars to reconcile with other historical data: not only was Aramaic the native language of most inhabitants of Roman Palestine (Poirier 2007: 56-64; cf. Chancey 2005: 122-65; Wise 2015: 331-45, who argue that Greek was employed much less than some have imagined), but the literacy levels at the time were extremely low (Bar-Ilan 1992; Hezser 2001). These considerations have made it difficult for many to accept that James, Peter, and Jude were responsible for the letters to which their names are attached. How, it is asked, could Aramaic-speakers like Peter and James write letters in Greek whose quality rivals or even exceeds the letters of Paul, when our sources record the latter as being much more highly educated (Acts 22:3) than the former (Acts 4:13)?
The amanuensis hypothesis provides an answer to this question, one that circumvents the problems surrounding the linguistic and literate abilities of James, Peter, and Jude. When the authorship claims of the Catholic Epistles are challenged, it has become common to appeal to the assistance of a secretary. Since it is generally assumed that, in some instances, ancient amanuenses were afforded considerable freedom in the composition of letters, allowance is made for the possibility that the Catholic Epistles were commissioned by the ascribed authors, but actually composed by individuals who were grapho-literate with considerable fluency in Greek. In this way, the letter-writing process takes on a new dynamic. Despite the lack of the requisite literate and linguistic skills, James, Peter, and Jude are thus able to produce epistles that rival those of a more educated class.
In what follows, we will consider how the amanuensis hypothesis has been applied to the authorship debates surrounding the letters of James, 1–2 Peter, and Jude.
The Amanuensis Hypothesis and the Epistle of James
Among the various reasons why the authorship of the epistle of James has been challenged, none are perhaps as significant as its literary style. Over the years, some have questioned whether James would have been capable of writing in Greek (e.g., Reicke 1964: 4). But for most, objections have not been based simply the expectation that a brother of Jesus would have written in Aramaic (or even Hebrew). The problem is the elevated level of Greek: the letter represents some of the highest quality Greek in the New Testament, surpassed only by Luke-Acts and Hebrews. Reservations of critics have thus centered on whether a person from the social, economic, and geographic location of James would have been able to compose Greek at the level reflected in the epistle. The following explanations are representative of the types of clarifying comments that surround this discussion (cf. also Pratscher 1987: 210-11; Tsuji 1997: 41-42; Painter 2012: 21): The issue is not whether someone in Palestine could speak and read Greek. That is amply demonstrated by inscriptions and other data. Nor is it unlikely that some members of the Jerusalem Christ group could write Greek or that even that the brother of Jesus, who surely spoke Aramaic as his first language, could speak and write some Greek. The issue is whether James, from a family of artisans, could have acquired the level of Greek displayed in the letter of James…. The question is whether James, from a non-elite family, without access to expensive grammatical and rhetorical schools, could have acquired the facility in Greek that is evidenced in the letter of James (Kloppenborg 2022: 25; original emphasis). … even if we can account for the widespread use of Greek in James’ day, the letter was written by a writer for whom Greek was clearly Muttersprache. Further, the letter was produced by a true literary stylist, someone who had quite likely received secondary rhetorical education. Especially when one notes the comparatively simple Greek of Paul’s letters, it seems unlikely that James of Jerusalem could have produced such a document (Nienhuis 2007: 110-11).
Despite such caveats, some have been strongly opposed to any claims that challenge the linguistic and/or literate abilities of James, the brother of Jesus. According to Blomberg, ‘this view represents about as blatant a classist and ethnic prejudice imaginable’ (2016: 467). Similarly, McKnight describes this as ‘the logical fallacy of applying what may have been the general situation statistically to a particular person’, noting that ‘[t]here are always exceptions to the average’ (2011: 31; cf. Bernier 2022: 207-208). However, this line of reasoning is neither prejudiced nor fallacious; it is simply the outworking of the historical method. Investigations into the linguistic environment of first century Roman Palestine and the educational opportunities that were available to groups and/or individuals living at that time reveal certain information about what was typical for most people or for particular groups of people. It is not a stretch to then apply those conclusions to a given member of that society. One could grant that there may have been exceptions to these general trends; but due to the fact that such cases were atypical, critics have merely argued that sufficient evidence is required to posit that any given individual should be considered such an exception.
Some who defend traditional authorship claims have argued that James the Just would have possessed the ability to directly and independently compose the letter (e.g., Sevenster 1968: 3-21, 190-91; Roberts 1984: 13-15; Motyer 1985: 18-19; Stulac 1993: 13-14; Johnson 1995: 116-18; Richardson 1997: 23-24; Wall 1997: 7; Moo 2000: 14-15; Doriani 2007: xiv; Witherington 2007a: 399-400; Blomberg and Kamell 2008: 33; Besançon Spencer 2020: 37-39). This confidence is based on the spread of Hellenism within Jewish culture following the conquests of Alexander the Great (see esp. Hengel 1969). To demonstrate the extent of Hellenization across ancient Palestine, interpreters commonly point to the use of Greek loanwords in rabbinic literature as well as the preference for Greek on Jewish epigraphy (esp. ossuaries). What such defenses have not produced, however, is any evidence for widespread Greek literacy among rural Galilean craftsmen, or further information about the specific literate and/or linguistic abilities of James. In the absence of such evidence—and given the questions that surround the extent of Hellenistic influence in early Roman Galilee (see, e.g., Chancey 2002; 2005)—many interpreters have explained the stylistic quality of the letter in ways that (to varying degrees) eliminate James’ direct involvement in the composition process.
It is common to interpret the letter’s elevated style as evidence that it is a pseudonymous composition (e.g., Kugelman 1980: 10; Martin 1982: 11-12; Scheef 1983: 58; Vouga 1984: 17-18; Pratscher 1987: 211; Schrage 1993a: 11; Perkins 1995: 84; Burchard 2000: 3-6; Popkes 2001: 64-68; Hartin 2006: 8; Allison 2013: 25-26; Cargal 2016: 655; Metzner 2017: 3-4; cf. Theißen 2003: 55; Konradt 2009: 578). In fact, this view has become the majority within modern scholarship (see Hahn and Müller 1998: 62-63), although the position was widely represented within an earlier generation as well (e.g., von Soden 1899: 175; Bauer 1910: 15; Ropes 1916: 47-52; Marty 1935: 243-49; Windisch 1951: 3; McNeile and Williams 1953: 203-205; Thyen 1955: 14; Williams 1965: 93-95; Michl 1968: 19-20; Dibelius and Greeven 1976: 17). Only occasionally will one come across a downplaying of the stylistic evidence among those who interpret the letter as an early pseudepigraphon (e.g., Laws 1980: 40; Painter 2004: 238).
Another way that scholars have resolved the stylistic problem is through the translator hypothesis, a view that originated as far back as the 18th century (Faber 1770: 4; Schmidt 1804: 307-308; Bolten 1805: 17; Bertholdt 1819: 3033-3040; Wordsworth 1885: 136-50; Burkitt 1924: 65-70). Proponents of this view maintain that the canonical letter of James was originally written in Hebrew or Aramaic (perhaps by James, the brother of Jesus) and was later (freely) translated by someone fluent in the Greek language. Since the letter does not read like a wooden translation, one would have to attribute stylistic features such as syntax, word choice, rhetoric, etc. to the Greek translator, indicating that he (or she?) played a fundamentally determinative role in the shape of the epistle. If this evidence were pressed further, the active role of the translator could also imply—although it need not—that James was unable to compose Greek at this level on his own.
A similar but slightly different view has been advocated more recently by Davids (1982: 10-13, 57-59) and Martin (1988: lxix-lxxvii). They maintain that the epistle of James represents two compositional layers that were added a different times: an original piece of teaching/tradition, written in a Semitic language (perhaps by James), which was subsequently revised in Greek by one skilled in that language (see also Kittel 1942: 79; Knox 1945: 10-17; Blackman 1957: 26-27; Schneider 1961: 4; Mitton 1966: 232; Niebuhr 1998: 431; cf. others who allow for this possibility: Wright and Bird 2019: 735). Much like the previous proposal, in this redactor hypothesis the elevated Greek of the letter is attributed not to James but to the reviser. What distinguishes the two is that the redaction is thought to have occurred at a time and place that was separate from the actual author (i.e., James), which represents a serious problem in the eyes of some interpreters (see Sleeper 1998: 40).
Finally, numerous interpreters seek to circumvent the stylistic problem presented by the letter of James through the postulation of a secretary. Among these proponents of the amanuensis hypothesis, some are hesitant to affirm that James would have been able to independently compose the letter attributed to him (e.g., Klijn 1967: 150; Mussner 1981: 8; Palmer 1997: 3-4; Bateman 2013: 55-56). These doubts usually derive from the widespread illiteracy levels that existed in Roman Palestine or from the quality Greek in which the letter was written. By positing that an amanuensis was afforded considerable compositional latitude, interpreters are able to account for the present form of the epistle without severing all connections to the historical James. Many who adopt the theory, however, believe that James would have been quite capable in Greek, and thus they argue that any assistance he received from a secretary would have consisted merely of editorial improvements (Bennett 1901: 22; Mitchell 1911: 34-35; Mayor 1913: cclx-cclxviii; Hayes 1921: 96-97; Chaine 1927: xci-cviii; Beasley-Murray 1965: 19; Sidebottom 1967: 19; Hengel 1987: 251-52; Harrison 1992a: 4; Bernheim 1997: 226-27; Bauckham 1999: 21-24; Brosend 2004: 4-5; Guthrie 2006: 200-201; Burge, Cohick, and Green 2009: 381; McCartney 2009: 27-29; Jobes 2011: 150-58; McKnight 2011: 31-34; deSilva 2012a: 48; Vlachos 2013: 3-5; Coker 2015: 61-62; Blomberg 2016: 467; Anderson 2017: 3; Cheung and Spurgeon 2018: 3).
One significant obstacle that lies in the way of the amanuensis hypothesis in this case is that the letter of James does not (explicitly) indicate that a secretary was involved in the composition (noted, e.g., by Sevenster 1968: 3; Tsuji 1997: 43; Metzner 2017: 4). To address this issue, some appeal to the very stylistic qualities they are attempting to explain. McCartney, for instance, argues the high-quality Greek is a sign of an amanuensis: James has no explicit marks [indicating the presence of an amanuensis], and given that we have only one letter from James to consider, it is difficult to do more than hypothesize regarding implicit indications. The one consideration that might apply is that the language of James is stylistically more like what one would expect from an educated Hellenist than from a Palestinian Jewish whose knowledge of Greek would have been only secondary (2009: 28).
But not only does this argument assume what needs to be demonstrated (viz. that ancient amanuenses were able to extensively shape the style of the letters they transcribed), some have reached the opposite conclusion about secretarial involvement based on stylistic considerations (see Holloway 2010: 574, who argues that there is evidence within the literary character of the letter that points away from the presence of an amanuensis).
Others base their conjecture of secretarial assistance on the regularity of this practice. In what seems like a slight departure from his earlier redactor hypothesis, Davids notes, ‘Since it was rare for a person, especially an important person, to write his or her own letters, some sort of amanuensis was certainly used, and a trusted amanuensis would likely improve the style of a letter’ (1999: 43 n. 28). But this raises an important question: How common was the use of a secretary in epistolary composition? Ever since the time of Roller, proponents of the amanuensis hypothesis have claimed that the practice was quite common based on clues in the literary sources. Research on epistolary subscriptions in the documentary papyri seem to challenge this assertion, however (see Sarri 2018: 192, who claims that ‘the vast majority of the very large number of surviving private letters that circulated and have been preserved to us were probably written by their authors themselves’).
The Amanuensis Hypothesis and the Epistles of 1–2 Peter
Discussions of authorship in 1 Peter, as with the epistle of James, must explain letter’s elevated style. Some account for this situation by attributing to the apostle Peter a high level of fluency in Greek (Spicq 1966: 17-26; Kelcy 1972: 7-9; Barbieri 1977: 18-22; Grudem 1988: 25-31; Hiebert 1992: 11-20; Miller 1993: 57-75; Clowney 1994: 18-21; McKnight 1996: 26-29; A. Black 1998: 14-16; Waltner 1999: 176-78; Jobes 2005: 6-8; Powers 2010: 26-31; Keating 2011: 18-19; Lee 2018; Schreiner 2020: 14-16). Since the predominant language in early Roman Galilee is generally agreed to be Aramaic (see Poirier 2007: 56-64), the defense of this position normally begins with an attempt to establish that Peter was bilingual—not merely displaying a basic acquaintance with the Greek language but possessing a considerable degree of proficiency in it (for a full defense, see Lee 2018: 158-81). Consistent with this task, some contend that Bethsaida, the hometown of Peter, had been especially impacted by Hellenism. Around the time of Jesus’ death, Philip the tetrarch renamed the village ‘Julias’, in honor of Augustus’ daughter, and afforded it the status of a polis (see Josephus, Ant. 18.28; cf. War 2.168). In this environment, proponents argue, it would have been difficult to have escaped Greek influence. Further, the fact that Peter’s brother was known by a Greek name (Andrew) is thought to indicate some level of Hellenization within the family (cf. Mason 1884: 385; Ebright 1917: 82; Spicq 1966: 23; Kelly 1969: 31). Others maintain that the commercial interactions inherent in Peter’s occupation as a fisherman would have given rise to a need for fluency in the Greek language as well (e.g., Witherington 2007b: 52; Judd, Jr. 2014: 252-53; Schreiner 2020: 14).
Even among those who seek to defend the letter’s authenticity, however, it is generally acknowledged that the language of 1 Peter rises above what could have been accomplished by the apostle and thus presents a significant problem to traditional authorship claims (see Cranfield 1960: 13-14; Green 2019: 85; Keener 2021: 10). While this was not the primary reason why the authenticity of the letter was first challenged (on the early challenges, see Williams and Horrell 2023: 1:121-22), stylistic considerations have become an important factor in this discussion. In recent scholarship, the language of 1 Peter continues to be one of the main reasons why the letter is understood to be pseudonymous (e.g., Frankemölle 1990: 9-11; Goppelt 1993: 48-53; Brox 1993: 43-47; Schrage 1993b: 64-65; Krodel 1995a: 63-64; Schweizer 1998: 15-18; Boring 1999: 30-37; Seethaler 2003: 13-16; Bony 2004: 11-14; Feldmeier 2008: 32-39; Gunsalus González 2010: 4-5; Vinson 2010: 1-7; Donelson 2010: 15-17; Schlosser 2011: 35-37; Vahrenhorst 2016: 9-16; Bartlett 2016: 667; Wagner and Vouga 2020: 8; Ostmeyer 2021: 17-19; Williams and Horrell 2023: 1:122-31, 149-62). Even some who defend the authorship claims of the letter find it difficult to attribute a high degree of literate and linguistic competency to the apostle Peter. As a result, they are forced to postulate alternative compositional scenarios.
One way of explaining the elevated style of 1 Peter is that the letter was the product of a Petrine circle (Best 1971: 59-63; Elliott 1980: 250-67; Elliott 1990: 267-95; Elliott 2000: 127-30; Blevins 1982: 402-403; Soards 1988: 3827-49; Knoch 1990: 22-25; Knoch 1991: 105-26; Perkins 1995: 13; Achtemeier 1996: 42; Dschulnigg 1996: 175; Richard 2000: 9-11; Prasad 2000: 36-46; Böttrich 2001: 247-48; Senior 2003: 4-6; Klauck 2006: 340; Chatelion-Counet 2006: 403-24; Prigent 2006: 10; Hartin 2006: 29; Le Roux 2018: 15-21). According to this view, a group of disciples had formed in Rome around the influence of Peter. Following his death, the teachings of the apostle were used to compose the letter of 1 Peter and then were dispatched under his name. While this view maintains that someone other than Peter composed the epistle, it nonetheless allows proponents to maintain a connection with the apostle, for it is his ideas and teachings that are being employed. Where defenders of the letter’s authenticity take objection to this theory is that it assumes that the letter was composed without the direct commissioning or consent of the apostle (for a critique of this view, see Horrell 2002: 29-60).
Although not as widely posited in modern scholarship, another way to explain the style of 1 Peter is by appealing to a translator. In other words, some maintain that Peter had little-to-no aptitude in Greek and thus was required to communicate his message in a Semitic language. In this case, Peter orally dictated the letter to an amanuensis in either Aramaic or Hebrew, and the amanuensis rendered the contents of Peter’s discourse into Greek (e.g., Olshausen 1838: 145; Schonfield 1955: 420; Picirilli 1992: 93, 212). Alternatively, a few have proposed that 1 Peter was originally a written document composed in Aramaic and that the secretary’s role was simply to translate the text into Greek (e.g., Bertholdt 1819: 3078-79; cf. also Baronio 1864: 1:297, who claims that it was written in Hebrew and translated by Mark). In both instances, the translator would ultimately be responsible for the final product. The biggest obstacle for this view is that the letter provides no indication that it was translated, much less from a Semitic language. While exhibiting some degree of Semitic interference (see Jobes 2003), the style reflects a moderately polished form of Greek composition.
The only interpretation that allows scholars to attribute the letter to the historical Peter, regardless of his literate abilities or his level of proficiency in Greek, is the amanuensis hypothesis. What is more, 1 Peter is the only one of the Catholic Epistles that might potentially refer to a secretary. In 1 Pet. 5.12, the author states, διὰ Σιλουανοῦ ὑμῖν… ἔγραψα (‘I have written to you through Silvanus’). Many modern interpreters take this phrase to mean that Silvanus performed the role of secretary for Peter (for a full defense of this position, see Keener 2021: 393-402; against this interpretation, see Richards 2000; Williams and Horrell 2023: 615-24). Proponents of this view differ slightly on the reason why Silvanus functioned in this role. Some claim that in antiquity it was customary to employ amanuenses to transcribe letters, even for those who could perform the task themselves; therefore, the secretarial duties of Silvanus were merely undertaken with a view toward editorial improvement (e.g., Hart 1910: 12-15; Blenkin 1914: xxiii-xxiv; Selwyn 1947: 9-11, 25-27; Stibbs and Walls 1959: 20-30; Wheaton 1970a: 1236; Blum 1981a: 211-12; Holmer and de Boor 1986: 16-17; Marshall 1991: 22-23; Bénétreau 1992: 36-41; Hillyer 1992: 2; Witherington 2007b: 41-42; Osborne 2011a: 131-32; Watson 2012: 4; Rodgers 2017: 2-3; Keener 2021: 9-13; cf. Helyer 2012: 109-11; Judd, Jr. 2014: 251-55, 257-59; Gäckle 2015: 12-13; Green 2019: 85-93). Others maintain that the decision to employ a secretary arose out of necessity. Since it is unlikely that a Galilean fisherman would have possessed the skills to compose such an epistle, Peter was required to seek out someone with the requisite abilities (e.g., Robinson 1929: 1339; Willmering 1953: 1177; Cranfield 1960: 13-14; Reicke 1964: 69-71; Beasley-Murray 1965: 51; Fitzmyer 1968: 2:362; Thompson 1983: 80-81; Mounce 1983: 3-4; Michaels 1988: lxii; Davids 1990: 4, 6-7; Skaggs 2004: 3; Bosetti 2004: 15; Charles 2005: 278; Green 2007: 6-7; Warden 2009: 12). In either case, as Peter’s amanuensis, Silvanus is assigned an active part in the composition of the letter.
The importance of the amanuensis hypothesis lies in the fact that it alleviates many, if not most, of the objections used to challenge Petrine authorship. This is acknowledged even by those who attribute pseudepigraphic status to 1 Peter (e.g., Fuller 1966: 157; Stanton 2003: 1495). If secretaries in antiquity were given considerable latitude in a letter’s composition, and if Peter employed Silvanus as his amanuensis, then the quality Greek style in which 1 Peter was written would reveal little about the actual author. Such a scenario would allow for the possibility that a Galilean fisherman ultimately stood behind the epistle (see Michaels 1988: lxii). In addition, the secretarial role of Silvanus could potentially explain why 1 Peter shares so many linguistic connections with the writings of Paul—given that Silvanus was a close associate with Paul (even co-authoring a letter with him)—and why the scriptural citations in the letter were drawn from the LXX rather than the Hebrew Bible.
In the case of 2 Peter, the situation is very similar. The overwhelming majority of modern interpreters reject the authenticity of 2 Peter, with the style being one of many contributing factors (e.g., Schrage 1993c: 126-27; Fuchs and Reymond 1988: 30-32; Schelkle 1988: 179-81; Knoch 1990: 215-18; Frankemölle 1990: 80-82; Paulsen 1992: 89-91, 93-95; Neyrey 1993: 118-20, 134-35; Vögtle 1994: 122-27; Craddock 1995: 92; Danker 1995: 84; Knight 1995: 22-23; Perkins 1995: 160-61; Horrell 1998: 136; Richard 2000: 308-309; Kraftchick 2002: 75-76; Harrington 2003: 236; Skaggs 2004: 86-88; McKnight 2003: 1504; Hartin 2006: 48-49; Wilson 2010a: 269-70; Donelson 2010: 208-209; Aichele 2012: 4-9; Callan 2012: 137-39; Frey 2018: 213-20; Ostmeyer 2021: 107-108). Much of the suspicion regarding the style of 2 Peter stems from the fact that, despite some early assertions to the contrary (Hug 1847: 2:480-82; Weiss, 1866: 286-300; Warfield 1881: 66-68), the vocabulary, syntax, structure, and rhetoric is notably different from 1 Peter (cf. Mitchell 1911: 64; Cranfield 1960: 149). Nevertheless, many of the same explanations used to defend the authorship of 1 Peter are applicable to 2 Peter as well. For even if there is no direct reference to a secretary in the latter, the possibility that an amanuensis was employed in the former would account for stylistic differences between the two epistles. On the one hand, scholars have argued that 1 and 2 Peter were each composed by different amanuenses (e.g., Plumptre 1879: 79-81; Bennett 1901: 65; Falconer 1902: 47-56; Dillenseger 1907: 193-94; Vrede 1921: 149; Heupler 1942: 627; Charue 1946: 478; Holzmeister 1949: 353; Mounce 1983: 98; Hillyer 1992: 10-11; Picirilli 1992: 219-24; M.C. Black 1998: 145; Charles 1999: 260-63; Powers 2010: 162-65; Warden 2009: 297-306; Osborne 2011b: 275-77; Green 2008: 139-50; Bateman 2013: 55-56; Mbuvi 2015: 16-17; Harmon 2018: 366; Bayer 2019: 116; Schreiner 2020: 298-323). This would be consistent with the tradition that Peter employed various other ‘interpreters’ to record his memoirs (e.g., Mark, Glaucias). The other alternative is that Peter employed a secretary in 1 Peter (viz. Silvanus), but that he composed 2 Peter himself (e.g., Spitta 1885: 530-39; Zahn 1897–1899: 2:89-110; Wheaton 1970b: 1249; Bowman 1982: 156-57, 159-60; Holmer and de Boor 1986: 185-87; Hiebert 1989: 1-20; Lucas and Green 1995: 239-40; Moo 1996: 21-26; cf. those allow for either possibility: Blum 1981b: 257-61; Hillyer 1992: 9-11; Harvey and Towner 2009: 13).
The Amanuensis Hypothesis and the Epistle of Jude
Until approximately the mid-20th century, the elevated style of Jude had little bearing on the question of authorship. For the most part, considerations other than language played the decisive role in evaluations of the letter’s authenticity. These included the identity of letter’s opponents, the non-canonical source materials cited in the epistle, and whether certain internal (viz. the reference to the predictions of the apostles, v. 17) and external (viz. the age of the historical Jude) considerations point to post-apostolic dating. Among those who defended traditional authorship claims during the 19th and early 20th centuries, the letter’s style was rarely (if ever) mentioned (e.g., Huther 1877: 245-47; Alford 1878: prol. 4:188-92; Keil 1883: 287-91; Plummer 1891b: 365-76; Kühl 1897: 291-93; Bennett 1901: 92-96; Bigg 1902: 317-22; Mayor 1907: cxlvi-clii; Mitchell 1911: 69-70; James 1912: xxxvi-xxxviii; Wand 1934: 187-90; Chaine 1939: 267-69; Lenski 1945: 597-603). Even within more recent treatments, this question is sometimes left unaddressed (e.g., Harrison 1992b: 327-28; Moo 1996: 27-28; Charles 1999: 278-80; Mills 2003: 1319; Warden 2009: 453-54; Mbuvi 2015: 10-12; Bateman 2017: 11-19).
For those who maintain that Jude did not possess the linguistic and/or literate abilities to compose the letter independently, two options remain. First, it is possible to view the epistle as a pseudonymous composition. This has been the approach of the majority of critical scholars since approximately the mid-20th century. Most who take this position point to the elevated style of the letter as a primary reason why it could not have been written by the brother of Jesus (Schelkle 1988: 140-43; Fuchs and Reymond 1988: 148; Frankemölle 1990: 129-30; Paulsen 1992: 44-45; Neyrey 1993: 29-31; Schrage 1993d: 227-28; Vögtle 1994: 10-11; Krodel 1995b: 107-109; Richard 2000: 236-38; Kraftchick 2002: 20-22; Seethaler 2003: 125-26; Harrington 2003: 182-83; Hartin 2006: 48-49; Wilson 2010b: 380; Frey 2018: 25-30; Ostmeyer 2021: 163-64).
For those who wish to defend the letter’s authenticity, the alternative is to conjecture that Jude received assistance from an amanuensis. This view has been occasionally espoused because there of doubts about Jude’s ability to compose in elevated Greek. Cantinat, for instance, notes that the letter discloses ‘a thorough knowledge of the Greek language, which only a Hellenistic Jew could possess’ (1959: 607). This is a problem because ‘the Aramaic upbringing of St. Jude, who was from Nazareth, would certainly not allow him to write Greek this well’ (1959: 607). Nevertheless, Cantinat acknowledges that ‘among the disciples of the leaders in the early church, there was no shortage of trained Hellenists who could easily place their talents at the service of the common good’ (1959: 607; cf. Wohlenberg 1923a: xxxix-xl, xliii; Manser 2009: 212). Even for those who maintain that the linguistic environment and missionary experiences of Jude would have provided a sufficient basis for composing the letter, allowance is still made for the use of an amanuensis. This decision is normally grounded in the frequency with which secretaries were employed in the letter-writing process (Chaine 1939: 281; Dalton 1969: 1263; Watson 1998: 474; Brosend 2004: 4; Green 2008: 4-9; deSilva 2012b: 179-83).
Despite these appeals to other compositional theories, there is still a large constituency who maintains that Jude could have composed the letter, even with its elevated Greek style (e.g., Blum 1981c: 381-82; Bauckham 1983: 14-16; Hiebert 1989: 185-92; Green 1987: 48-52; Skaggs 2004: 148-50; Witherington 2007a: 563-67; Green 2008: 4-9; Harvey and Towner 2009: 146; Powers 210: 252-53; Osborne 2011c: 357-58; Schreiner 2020: 484-90; cf. Ellis 1978: 226-35). As in the case of James and Peter, few interpreters have attempted to argue that Jude would have received a literate education from a young age; instead, most seek to justify Jude’s writing abilities through extended missionary work into Greek-speaking areas. The explanation of G.L. Green is representative of such an approach. He argues, ‘we know that Jude, along with the other brothers of Jesus, engaged in itinerant ministry, which presupposes that they either had or acquired fluency in Greek… How they acquired this skill we can only surmise, but that they had gained some mastery of the tongue is hard to deny on historical grounds’ (Green 2008: 8; cf. also Osborne 2011c: 358).
Unanswered Questions and Future Prospects
After considering the origin, development, and modern application of the amanuensis hypothesis, it is important to specify how this survey might aid in the evaluation of the theory and its use in subsequent scholarship.
First, the origins and development of the amanuensis hypothesis raise some legitimate questions about its validity. By all indications (some of which were explicitly acknowledged by Calvin), the theory was initially posited in an effort to avoid contradicting the (perceived) truth claims of scripture. That is, interpreters advanced the view as an alternative to the conclusion that certain New Testament epistles were composed pseudonymously. The postulation of interpretive theories to preserve theological beliefs is problematic enough, but what makes the situation even more objectionable is that it took approximately 400 years before proponents of the amanuensis hypothesis finally offered a historical justification for their views. Such a development is thus a cause for concern, one that can only be mitigated by cogent arguments for secretarial freedom that flow directly from the ancient source materials.
The historical case for the amanuensis hypothesis represents the second important consideration. But, here again, there are reasons for apprehension. The fullest defenses of the theory have been set forth by Roller (1933: esp. 1-23) and Richards (1991; 2004: 59-93). While their efforts are to be commended, both for the depth and breadth of their research, the conclusions they reached have not been above critique. In fact, both formulations have received strong opposition. The reason why this consideration is disconcerting is because the objections raised against them have not been fully addressed by those who continue to espouse the amanuensis hypothesis. As such, one must be cautious about the theory’s modern unreserved application to questions surrounding the authorship of New Testament epistles. This is not to say, however, that proponents of the amanuensis hypothesis are the only ones for whom further inquiry is necessary. Critics have challenged many of the fundamental tenets of the view; but modern assessments have been rather brief, lacking substantial engagement with the essential claims of the theory and leaving a number of important questions unaddressed.
What is needed, therefore, is additional investigation into the questions that originally gave rise to the amanuensis hypothesis as well as others that would further illuminate secretarial activity in antiquity. Initially, the theory took shape as interpreters considered the following questions: How long did it take to compose a letter in antiquity? Did the materials used in epistolary composition (e.g., pen, ink, papyrus, writing surface) present such great difficulties that most letters were composed with the assistance of a secretary? Do the literary sources from the Greek and Roman worlds indicate that, at times, a secretary was afforded the freedom to contribute an equal (or even greater) amount to the composition of a letter than the actual author? While the evidence discovered by proponents of the amanuensis hypothesis has led them to conclude that secretaries were commonly employed and afforded a considerable degree of latitude in the letter-writing process, this interpretation has not been shared by everyone. In many cases, critics have provided very different answers to the same questions. Moving forward, this evidence must be submitted to fresh analysis in order to arbitrate the disagreement. At the same time, there are other questions that neither side has sufficiently addressed, but that play a key role in understanding ancient secretarial activity: What was involved in the process of dictation, and were their factors that would have contributed toward a more strict or a more unconstrained form of transcription? Are there any indisputable cases in the literary record where a letter-writer commissioned another person to write on their behalf and in their name without providing the specific content (i.e., words, ideas)? What level(s) of compositional license was/were granted to secretaries in letters from the documentary papyri? Did ancient literary critics assume that an author possessed a unique style that stayed consistent throughout his (or her) compositional efforts, and if so, was that style used to distinguish one epistolary author from another? These will similarly require extensive investigation.
The (in)validity of the amanuensis hypothesis is far from settled. Much more work is needed to properly evaluate the theory’s merits and limitations. But, in time, through a close investigation into ancient letter-writing practices, scholars can begin to contradict or confirm its tenets.
