The untitled second tractate in Nag Hammadi Codex xi, conventionally referred to as A Valentinian exposition, resembles the Valentinian systems reported by the Church Fathers more closely than any other Nag Hammadi text. In particular, it has several features in common with the system attributed to ‘Valentinus’ in Irenaeus, Adversus haereses 1.11, and therefore appears to reflect an early phase in the evolution of the Valentinian system. The tractate had already been published by J. É. Ménard in an earlier volume in the BCNH series (vol. xiv, 1985), but the editors of the series evidently found a new edition to be desirable. The codex was badly damaged soon after the discovery in 1945 and as a result the challenges facing an editor are considerable.
The new edition of the text has been furnished by the eminent Coptologist Wolf-Peter Funk and rests on a solid linguistic basis. Introduction, translation and commentary are the work of Jean-Pierre Mahé; they provide good access to the text and are generally illuminating. All in all, the volume constitutes a significant advance over previous editions and studies of the text. It will be an indispensable point of reference for future work involving A Valentinian exposition.
Although many points in Mahé’s introduction and commentary invite discussion, this present review will restrict itself to the more basic issue of the structure of the text itself as it appears in Funk and Mahé’s presentation. The fragmentary state of the manuscript makes the reconstruction of the mythological narrative and the identification of its consecutive events an especially demanding task. Mahé’s reconstruction is generally cogent, though not convincing in every respect.Footnote 1
The first half of the tractate (pp. 22–30) is devoted to a description of the Father, the Son and the unfolding of the Pleroma. Here it is in general possible to see what the text (somewhat repetitively) is speaking about. However, Mahé’s identification of a reference to Sophia in 30.21–9 seems to me unfounded; the theme in these lines, and to the end of the page, seems to be the continuous production of aeons.
The (very fragmentary) p. 31 seems to me to give an account of the passion of Sophia; I see no reference to Jesus here.
Other passages in the text (33.36–7, and probably 33.16–17) make it clear that A Valentinian exposition clings to an older version of the Sophia myth, according to which Sophia in her passion gives birth to Christ as her son. (Cf. Irenaeus, Adversus haereses 1.11; Clement of Alexandria, Exc. 23.2, 32–3; Mahé in his introduction at pp. 25–6.) When Sophia hits the Boundary (Horos), Christ detaches himself from her and returns to the Pleroma. In later versions (Irenaeus’ and Hippolytus’ main systems), Christ was replaced by an Upper Sophia. It seems likely that Sophia's passion and the birth and return of Christ was narrated in the lost parts of this page.
Page 32 most probably described the repentance of Sophia and the benevolent reaction of the Pleroma. The term ‘remembrance’, a key word in such a context, seems to occur (tipmeue 32.23.32–3; not identified by Funk and Mahé), but further reconstruction of the narrative must be conjectural.
On p. 33 the theme is how the fault of Sophia will be rectified. In 33.19 the correct restoration is surely diorth]ōsis mpshōft, ‘correction of the error’. It is very unlikely that the crucifixion is alluded to in these lines, as Mahé’s translation suggests. The story is that Sophia's son, probably referred to as ‘Christ’ in 33.17, is prevented by the Horos from going back down to help his mother; instead, the Father/the Pleroma generates his/its own son, i.e. Jesus, who will effect the restoration of Sophia.
On p. 34 Sophia herself speaks, in the style of the remorseful complaint of an abandoned woman – a topos borrowed from ancient rhetorical culture that might have occasioned some comment.
On p. 35 (continuing to 36.19), Jesus has descended to Sophia and is now busy creating the world. The preserved text presents us with three main problems. The first is the role of the Demiurge: normally Jesus the Saviour performs a preparatory work while the actual creation is delegated to the Demiurge. Although ‘the Demiurge’ is mentioned in 37.33 and 39.16, there is little indication of a division of labour between him and Jesus in the account on p. 35, and one is tempted to suspect that bits of text have been lost in the process of transmission. I am not convinced by the suggestion that ktisis in 35.14 is a name for the Demiurge.
A second problem is the exact nature of the ‘seeds’ of Sophia, said to serve as materials for the creation, and their relationship to the ‘passions’. On this point, further efforts of analysis will be needed to bring clarification.
The third problem is that the normal Valentinian tripartition into the spiritual, the ‘psychic’ and the material does not appear, neither here nor anywhere else in the preserved text (cf., for example, 37.25–8). This peculiar absence may be linked to the problem of the unclear role of the Demiurge, who is usually represented as the first of the ‘psychic’ beings. Mahé proposes that the author deliberately avoided thematising the psychics as a distinct category, motivated by a hope that they would all eventually be converted to spirituals. This feature is also an indication of the early date of A Valentinian exposition (introduction at pp. 31–5). Mahé’s proposals will need more careful scrutiny than is possible in this review.
In 36.19ff., the ‘angels’ accompanying Jesus the Saviour are introduced. They are an essential component of Valentinian soteriology, since they constitute the syzygoi of spiritual humans, the male partners with whom the latter are united in the apokatastasis. 36.19–22 should probably be restored as follows: ntarefei g[a]r [ahrēi] nci Iēsous afeine a[n … ] mptērf ‘[For] when Jesus descended he [also] brought the […]s of the All’. A peculiar and hitherto unexplained idea appearing in this section, and elsewhere in A Valentinian exposition is the important soteriological function given to Sophia's syzygos, her abandoned partner in the Pleroma, who plays a rather anonymous role in other versions of the system.
On p. 37 we are back to the creation and the structure of the cosmos. The Demiurge is now explicitly mentioned, his creation of the human being is related, and the world is described, in good Valentinian fashion, as a school envisaged by Providence for the education of spiritual humans.
Unusually for a Valentinian tractate, A Valentinian exposition also contains a section on the defection of the Devil and his angels, as well as on the primeval history of the Book of Genesis, viewed as a continual struggle between spiritual and carnal powers (p. 38). The final page (p. 39) describes the eschatological apokatastasis by way of a series of ascents and syzygic unions. Some features of this account deviate from known versions of the Valentinian system; Mahé’s commentary is a good starting point for further study.
Funk and Mahé’s edition also provides a superior text of the liturgical fragments (anointing, baptism and eucharist) that succeed A Valentinian exposition in the codex. Mahé argues confidently for the Valentinian character of these texts. Personally, I see no compelling indication that these texts are Valentinian, though in view of the context of their transmission as well as their contents this remains a quite likely assumption.
