Biblical Criticism & History Forum - earlywritings.com

The opening verses of the Gospel of Luke (Luke 1:1-4) are a fascinating—and often overlooked—admission of something that feels strikingly close to forgery. Consider the text:

Since many have undertaken to compile a narrative about the events that have been fulfilled among us, just as the original eyewitnesses and servants of the word handed them down to us, it also seemed good to me, having followed all things closely for some time past, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may know the certainty of the things you have been taught. [Luke 1:1-4]

At first glance, this sounds like the humble words of a writer simply compiling information. But, if we take a deeper look, particularly at the historical context, this seems to carry a different tone—one of strategic positioning. Luke essentially opens by admitting that he is reworking accounts written by others. In particular, we know that Luke heavily relies on the Gospel of Mark, which raises questions about the integrity of this project from the start.

The "Faux Gospel" Problem

Why would the author of Luke need to justify or explain why he is compiling yet another gospel narrative? The mention of "many" who have undertaken this task implies that there were already numerous circulating accounts of Jesus's life, leaving us to wonder: why did Luke feel the need to produce another one?

What makes this more intriguing is that early Christian heretics, particularly the Marcionites, were said to have had their own version of the Gospel, which was a shorter version of Luke's Gospel. The orthodox Church accused Marcion of corrupting the true Gospel, but this raises an interesting question: if Luke's Gospel itself admits to being built on earlier narratives, is it really that different from what Marcion did? One might even argue that Luke is providing a sanitized, orthodox version of earlier, more radical teachings, essentially engaging in the same process of "corruption" but in reverse—shaping the tradition to fit an orthodox narrative.

The Marcionite "Apostolic" Tradition

Marcion and his followers referred to their New Testament canon as "apostolic," but they used this term differently than Irenaeus and the later orthodox tradition. For the Marcionites, "apostolic" meant directly tied to Paul, their central apostle. Paul, in their eyes, was the only legitimate interpreter of Christ's message. But for Irenaeus, "apostolic" took on a new meaning: it came to describe things from those who heard the apostles preach - a subcategory of witness, witnesses of a secondary order of importance. This shift in terminology was crucial because it allowed Irenaeus to dismiss the Marcionites and their gospel as a false tradition, despite its claim to be "apostolic."

This leads to a fascinating point about Luke’s introduction. By admitting that other gospels preceded his, and that he is merely providing an orderly account, Luke is tacitly admitting that his gospel is part of a broader tradition, not an eyewitness account. And what if the Marcionites were right in claiming that their gospel was older and more authentic? What if Luke's Gospel is, in fact, a reaction to—or even a rewriting of—earlier texts like the Marcionite Gospel?

Apostolic Authority as a Tool of Disparagement

What Luke's introduction does, knowingly or not, is participate in this larger battle for control over Christian tradition. The Marcionites claimed that their version of the gospel was apostolic, in the sense that it came from Paul. Irenaeus, in contrast, invented the notion of "apostolic tradition" that referred to the disciples of Jesus. This shift allowed Irenaeus to delegitimize the Marcionites, casting them as late-comers who had corrupted the original message, even though they claimed the opposite. Luke’s introductory verses seem to implicitly align with this strategy by acknowledging the existence of multiple versions of the gospel but positioning itself as the "correct" version, the one that would ensure Theophilus understood the "truth."

In sum, Luke 1:1-4 offers more than just an introduction; it’s an ideological statement wrapped in the language of humility. It is an acknowledgment that multiple versions of the gospel existed—and, in doing so, it walks the fine line between claiming authenticity and admitting forgery. For the Marcionites, who believed their gospel was the true, apostolic account, Luke’s introduction would read like a denial of their tradition. And for us, reading this text centuries later, we have to ask whether Luke’s attempt to provide a "secure" and "orderly" account is, in itself, an orthodox reworking of a more radical Christian message that the Marcionites were trying to preserve.

And surely everyone has to admit that the Marcionite use of the term "apostolic" was likely the original and more natural use of the word. The suffix -ικός in Greek, commonly used to mean "of or pertaining to," perfectly fits the Marcionite claim that their canon was directly tied to the apostle Paul. In their tradition, Paul was the apostle—the one true apostle—whose teachings and writings formed the foundation of their faith. Therefore, to call their texts "apostolic" was simply to say that they belonged to, or were directly tied to, Paul.

What makes this interesting is that the later orthodox tradition, specifically under figures like Irenaeus, redefined "apostolic" to create a hierarchical structure of authority. For the orthodox, "apostolic" came to mean something else entirely: it referred to a subcategory of witnesses, with the "true" apostles being those directly linked to Jesus, like Peter and John. Under this new definition, figures like Mark and Luke became "second-class" witnesses, not true apostles themselves but followers or interpreters of the real apostles. This was a strategic move—it allowed Irenaeus to downgrade the Marcionites and their gospel, which was deeply rooted in Paul, by making "apostolic" a broader category that required lineage through the Twelve.

This orthodox reaction to the Marcionite use of "apostolic" is fascinating because it reveals a conscious attempt to reshape the language of authority. The Marcionite view of "apostolic" was straightforward: it referred to Paul, the apostle, and his teachings. But by bastardizing the term to mean "secondary" "of last virtue" "of less value," figures like Luke and Mark who were substandard, the orthodox tradition effectively neutralized the exclusivity of the Marcionite claim. By doing so, they positioned their own gospels as equally "apostolic," even if they had to acknowledge that figures like Mark and Luke were not apostles in the strict sense.

In short, the original Marcionite use of "apostolic" is far more intuitive and straightforward—"of or pertaining to the apostle" (Paul). The later redefinition by the orthodox was a reaction to this, an effort to claim legitimacy for their texts while discrediting the Marcionite tradition.

How then can any sane person imagine that the "apostolic" tradition of Irenaeus, where the subcategory "apostolic" itself means "secondary," was more original than the Marcionite tradition, which used "apostolic" in its natural sense—i.e., things pertaining to or coming from the apostle Paul? The very nature of the term in Greek, with the suffix -ικός (-ic) meaning "of or pertaining to," clearly implies that "apostolic" originally meant things related directly to the apostle. It wasn’t a diluted category of secondary witness. The idea that Irenaeus could successfully redefine "apostolic" to mean a subcategory, effectively lowering the status of key figures like Luke and Mark beneath Matthew and John, is a reactionary attempt to claim the term for orthodoxy.

It's not even about buying into the Marcionite idea of Paul as a Moses-like figure, speaking on behalf of God to a new Israel. That can be set aside for the moment. What’s striking here is Irenaeus deconstructing the natural meaning of "apostolic" and limiting it, confining it to a secondary role. And yet, scholars don’t seem to grapple with this or recognize it. This field is too often filled with shallow engagement with texts, limited by the desire to uphold traditional beliefs. What scholars like Goodacre do is essentially re-baptize long-held ideas that our ancestors accepted as true, legitimate, and holy, now draped in the rhetoric of academic "rightness" and "acceptability." It's scientific terminology overlaid on belief, dressed up as truth. But it's not the deep, critical engagement we should expect when dealing with ancient texts and traditions.

I'm not clear what you are proposing, You seem to be saying that Luke is a gospel that Marcion used and modified, but you seem also to be saying that Luke is a post-Marcion, anti-Marcion gospel. But maybe I misunderstood your proposal.

Wow. I thought I was getting better at expressing myself but apparently not.

Religion fills the emptiness of physical existence. We live, breathe, eat, defecate, die—that's the cycle of life. God and religion are what live between the air molecules. The story of Jesus, as told by the gospel, isn't "fixed" in a specific historical event. It’s not eyewitness reporting of an actual incident. Maybe something happened. Maybe an "event" took place. But the essence of the gospel lies in the interpretation, in the things that exist between the molecules of matter that bind us to physical reality.

Paul had a vision that the death of Jesus meant something. According to the Marcionites, Paul was a Moses-like figure—the apostle, in the same way Moses was the apostle, the spokesperson for God. Paul was the gnostic, the one whom God brought into direct knowledge of divine truth, that is, the correct interpretation of Jesus' death. For Paul to hold this status, like Moses, he must have been the author of the text that brought others into acquaintance with the truth. He couldn’t have relied on a corrupted version of Mark’s gospel, and his tradition couldn’t have been based on Luke.

By its very nature, as we see from countless references to Paul's heavenly ascent in 2 Corinthians, Paul’s role was unique. The Marcionite tradition recognized this and expounded on it almost to the point of the repetition of Cato the Elder. Church Fathers like Irenaeus, Tertullian, Origen, and even Eznik of Kolb recognized this. Paul ascended to heaven, became a gnostic, and through his gospel, transmitted what he learned to his followers and his tradition. Are you following me so far?

In the early stages of any religion, there’s always a visionary, a gnostic, who defies convention and brings new ideas into existence. Judaism, as it stands now, with its practices, beliefs, ways of life, and even naming customs, didn't spring into existence fully formed. At the very beginning, there had to be someone who essentially invented it—crafted something that seemed like "nonsense" to the status quo. Pre-Pentateuch practices certainly influenced what would become the Jewish religion, but it took a visionary to create a new system of belief.

For the Marcionites, that visionary was Paul. Even in the Pseudo-Clementines, Paul is portrayed as a figure who relies so heavily on "visions" that he's ridiculed for it. But this is exactly what all religions need—a madman, as Maimonides referred to Muhammad, someone like Diogenes wandering the streets with a lantern, defying convention, and establishing new values. This madness, this willingness to break from the norm, is what births new religious traditions.

The Marcionite tradition, with Paul as the central figure, represents an older, more primal form of Christianity—one that preserves that raw, visionary stage of religion. It predates what became the orthodox tradition, where the religion was formalized. The bundling of four gospels into one unified text isn’t the start of Christianity; it’s the formalization, the ecumenical effort to organize the religion. It’s the end stage, not the beginning. Religion begins with madness and vision, and it ends with structure and orthodoxy.

In light of this background, it's clear that Christianity must have originally developed from the visionary experiences of Paul. Scholars who try to construct biographical narratives around the gospels often miss the mystical and spiritual foundation that underpins the liturgical practices of early Christianity. The Marcionite tradition, which seems to preserve this "nascent" understanding of Paul as a shaman, gnostic, or mystic, arguably did so more faithfully than the orthodox tradition. This is akin to how the Samaritans preserved essential speculations about Moses better than the Jews, who pursued more secondary concerns.

Given this, the idea that the Marcionite tradition, with its preservation of early Christian ideas, would have done so through the Gospel of Luke seems impossible. Paul repeatedly references "my gospel," and some might argue that he isn't referring to a written gospel. However, I believe that interpretation is influenced by the indoctrination of our orthodox tradition. The orthodox view tries to explain the Marcionite "my gospel" by claiming it was written by Luke, a disciple of Paul, which is highly unlikely. The Gospel of Luke is a forgery of Mark—this is a fact. The Marcionites claim to have the written gospel Paul referred to with "my gospel" in Romans.

If we are trying to understand the Marcionite tradition, we can't accept the notion that (a) the Marcionites misinterpreted Romans 16:25, then (b) stole Luke and reshaped it to "fit" their interpretation of Romans 16:25, and then (c) invented a whole historical narrative where this written gospel was brought by Paul to the Jerusalem Church, out of which Matthew was created. No reasonable person would argue that Matthew was a forgery of Luke. There was a pre-existent ancient dynamic, attested by Papias, that it was Mark vs Matthew which was at the heart of the origins controversy.

Luke was clearly based on Mark. So, the historical story that Irenaeus and Tertullian repeat—the claim that the Marcionites tampered with Luke—disproves itself. It’s evident that this Marcionite Lukan forgery narrative, also invented by Irenaeus, doesn’t hold up. But it was invented, I believe, to side step the Mark vs Matthew controversy witnessed by both Papias and the Marcionites (as reported by Irenaeus and Tertullian).

Paul had visions—visions foundational not just to Marcionism, but to the establishment of Christianity itself. Orthodox Christianity's denial of Paul having his own gospel doesn't make their view historically accurate. It was likely a method to undermine the authority of the Marcionite tradition, which preserved this early, mystical understanding of Christianity. In discussing Marcionite Christianity, it's unreasonable to believe that their faith was founded on a corrupt version of a forged Gospel of Mark. It just doesn't align with the early Christian framework Paul established through his visionary experiences.

In summa: the Gospel of Luke is necessarily not the gospel that Paul brought down with him from his ascent to the heavens. Impossible given the introduction. The introduction is a deliberate statement of "this is a small gospel." This is a "weak gospel." This is not a gospel which is a bombastic statement of glory, power and authority. It's a nerdy, weak, "accountant's" gospel.

In short:

(1) the earliest claim about a gospel was that it was written by an apostle, namely Paul
(2) Luke explicitly isn't written by an apostle
(3) therefore Luke post-dates the shift in understanding about what a gospel is

Shorter:

(1) Marcionites were right
(2) Luke was a corruption of the Gospel

Or a corruption of "a gospel." Since I think the Marcionite gospel was Mark, yes Luke was the corruption the Gospel.