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On display at the Yale University Art Gallery is a painting from Dura-Europos, an ancient city in eastern Syria and the location of major excavations in the 1920s and 1930s. Yale archaeologists found the painting in the remains of a third-century house that was used as a church—the earliest Christian church ever discovered. On the southern wall of the building’s baptistery is the image of a woman drawing water from a well, while looking over her left shoulder. While most scholars have assumed it is a depiction of the Samaritan woman narrated from the Gospel of John, Michael Peppard has suggested that the painting is better interpreted as Mary at the well.1 The canonical Gospels of Matthew and Luke do not give a specific location for the Annunciation, despite general assumptions that place the scene at her home based on centuries-long depictions of the Annunciation in Western art. While the scene of Mary drawing water from the well or spring is not a detail found in the canonical infancy narratives, it is a feature of the Protevangelium of James (Protevangelium hereafter) in which the divine voice attempts to make contact with Mary to announce her special role in salvation history (Prot. Jas. 11:1–9). Additionally, the image also depicts a vacant space behind the woman, most likely representing the invisible divine voice of the Annunciation,2 a detail again found in the Protevangelium which describes a bodiless voice speaking to Mary before the appearance of an angel; hence Mary is said to have been looking “all around her, to the right and left, to see from where the voice was coming” (Prot. Jas. 11:3). If Peppard’s interpretation is correct, this painting would be the oldest depiction of Mary’s Annunciation at the well. This interpretation is especially intriguing given that in the same house church a procession of women walking towards a large building with doors is also depicted. On the east wall, the feet and bottom garments of five women approach the structure. On the west wall three full women are each carrying a lit candle.3 Admittedly, there is no consensus on the identities of the women in the image, but Gertrud Schiller is convinced that the women are the virgins who guide Mary to the temple (Prot. Jas. 7:4).4 If these two proposals are correct, then the church house at Dura-Europos would appear to display artistically two dominant themes informed by this apocryphal text.

While the Protevangelium’s presence and impact on the Dura-Europos church house is debatable, there is no doubt regarding the Protevangelium’s influence on early Christian traditions, practices, and forms of piety associated with the Virgin Mary. Offering rich details from Mary’s miraculous conception by her mother Anna to her own conception and birth of Jesus, this narrative stands as the foundation for her prevailing depiction as extraordinarily pure and holy, but also for later apocryphal, hagiographical, and liturgical writings. Despite its early date, this document’s contributions to Marian piety and devotion cannot be overestimated.5 Surviving in at least 140 Greek manuscripts and translated into multiple languages including Syriac, Georgian, Latin, Armenian, Arabic, Coptic, Ethiopic, and Slavonic (see section on transmission below), the Protevangelium’s frequent copying attests to its popularity throughout the Christian world.6 Moreover, the text functions as a source for a variety of later writings on the life of Mary, including the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew, the Nativity of Mary, the Armenian and Arabic Gospels of the Infancy, the History of Joseph the Carpenter, and Maximus the Confessor’s Life of the Virgin.7 From its use in liturgical readings for various feasts, including Mary’s Nativity, Conception, and Presentation, to its inspiration for numerous artistic representations found in church paintings, mosaics, and sarcophagi, the text enjoyed near canonical status despite its categorization as apocryphal.

As a narrative that features characters and events from the NT text but lacks a presence in the canon, the Protevangelium fits the criteria for extracanonical and apocryphal literature. However, other features attributed to works deemed apocryphal, including its rejection as a possible candidate into the NT canon, seem problematic not least because of its popularity and influence on early Christian practices, traditions, and beliefs. In his study of this categorization process, François Bovon proposed that church leaders, theologians, and ordinary Christians did not simply distinguish between canonical and apocryphal texts or accepted and rejected texts; rather, they were familiar with a third category of writing which were, according to Bovon, “useful for the soul.”8 Such writings functioned as the basis for religious life in the early church and were deeply cherished by the masses and even sometimes relied upon by orthodox leadership.9 Stephen Shoemaker has argued that Marian apocrypha is better understood not as failed scripture but as an accepted part of ecclesiastical tradition,10 and that the Protevangelium in particular should be more appropriately understood as “quasi-canonical” given its vast influence on Christian tradition.11

As a highly influential text about the most prominent woman in Christian history, the Protevangelium’s traditions were widely disseminated in later popular literature such as the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew and its derivative, the Nativity of Mary, each of which are witnessed in at least a hundred manuscripts. Instead of being perceived as a rejected scripture, it was received with some authority for helping understand questions about how Mary was conceived, what she was like as a child, and why she was chosen to give birth to the son of God; in addition, the text provides understanding of her role in salvation history and how and why she should be venerated.

Summary

Since Mary stands as the unequivocal center of the Protevangelium, the narrative’s contents are marked by the various stages in her life and are shaped by a deep desire to understand her for her own sake, particularly why and how she came to be praised for holding the paradoxical role of Virgin Mother. The text is dependent upon and clearly reworks elements of the canonical gospels of Matthew and Luke, but Jesus’ nativity scene, which commences during the last quarter of the narrative, comprises only a fraction of the text. The narrative focuses squarely and deliberately on Mary’s character and her role and contributions to Christian history. The following summary serves not only to describe the basic plot of the narrative, but also to point out several comparisons to its canonical sources as well as to other literary influences on the text.

Mary’s Pre-Story and Conception

The Protevangelium opens with information about Mary’s parents, Joachim and Anna, the circumstances of Mary’s birth, as well as the community in which they lived—precisely the information lacking in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. Reminiscent of great biblical couples (e.g., Sarah and Abraham; Elizabeth and Zechariah), we discover that despite their good standing in the community and their wealth (Prot. Jas. 1:1), Joachim and Anna suffer from infertility. The initial scene is set at the Jerusalem temple wherein Joachim’s double offering of sacrifice is rejected because of his childlessness (1:5). After confirming in the “Book of the Twelve Tribes of Israel” that he alone stands childless, Joachim runs off into the wilderness, fasting forty days and forty nights, to lament and wait for an explanation from God for his situation (1:6–7).

Aware that childbearing is a blessing awarded to the righteous by God (Gen 3:14), Anna too responds by wailing not only because of her barren state but also because she believes she is now a widow given Joachim’s disappearance (2:1). Anna’s cries elicit a rebuke from her slave girl that sends Anna into the garden to offer a poignant lament over how she alone is fruitless in such a fruitful world: “because even the [birds, beasts, animals, waters, earth] reproduce before you, O Lord” (3:1–8). Anna’s pain and embarrassment ceases, however, upon the arrival of an angel of the Lord who informs her that she will indeed conceive and that her child will be “spoken of throughout the whole world” (4:1). Anna immediately dedicates her child to life-long service to the Lord (4:2), confirming that her childlessness was the result of unlucky circumstances rather than a deficiency of righteousness.

Joachim also is the recipient of an angelic visit when he is informed of his wife’s new status (4:4), prompting him first to gather his flocks for a sacrificial offering (4:5–7), and only secondarily to return home to celebrate with his wife (4:8). Joachim’s righteousness is separately confirmed upon presenting his gifts at the temple and finding “no sin” indicated on the prophetic leafed headdress worn by the priest (5:2). Straightaway, the Protevangelium establishes Joachim and Anna as righteous and pious people fit to parent the child who would be the mother of the son of God.

Mary’s Birth, Infancy, and Stay at the Jerusalem Temple

In due time, Anna gives birth to her miraculous child and makes clear she is honored by her daughter, whom she names Mary (5:5–8). As expected of the “miraculous child being born to a once barren mother” motif, Mary’s life is immediately marked as exceptional—particularly with respect to her purity, but also by her agility and physical growth. In addition to waiting the prescribed days before nursing Mary (5:9), Anna is said to have transformed Mary’s bedroom into a sanctuary so that no “profane or unclean” person or thing can make contact with her daughter; Mary’s only companions are the “undefiled daughters of the Hebrews” (6:4–5). After Mary amazingly walks seven steps at the age of six months, Anna swoops her up, vowing her feet will not touch the ground again until she is taken up to the temple (6:1–5). Contact with the outside world takes place during a magnificent banquet in honor of Mary’s first birthday (6:6). At the celebration, Mary is given a double blessing (first by the temple priests and second by the high priests), the first of which is followed by an “amen” from all the people, reinforcing universally the blessed status and role of Mary (6:7–9). After the banquet, Anna sings another prayer, but this time the tone is joyful, thankful, and full of hope (6:11–13). When Mary reaches the age of two, Anna and Joachim discuss their vow to send Mary to the temple, but ultimately decide to wait one more year (7:1). The year passes and then the undefiled daughters of the Hebrews are summoned to help Mary with the move from her parent’s house to God’s house (7:4–5). Anna’s and Joachim’s fear that Mary will have a difficult transition are alleviated upon seeing her dance at the altar, receiving love and blessings from the priests and the whole house of Israel (7:9–10). Mary spends her childhood at the sacred Jerusalem temple, nurtured like a dove and fed by a heavenly angel (8:2).

Mary’s Adolescent Years: From Girlhood to Womanhood

After a nine-year time lapse, Mary’s approaching twelfth birthday sets the scene for the second part of the narrative. However, unlike the banquet celebration of her first birthday, this anniversary is marked by the fear of the priests that Mary’s transition from childhood to womanhood might “defile the temple of the Lord our God” (8:4). Concerned for both the sanctity of the temple and Mary’s well-being, the priests have Zechariah, the high priest, pray for guidance (8:5). Zechariah’s prayer is answered when an angel of the Lord appears and instructs him to gather all the widowers in town to determine by lot who should be chosen to guard Mary (8:7–9). Leaving Mary’s fate to God, the priest pays heed to the instructions, facilitating the arrival of Joseph on the scene, who is depicted differently and more fully than the canonical Gospels—he is old and already a father of sons (9:8). Reminiscent of Num 17:1–9 where Aaron’s staff buds to signal the selection of the proper priestly line, Joseph is chosen by God’s will when a dove springs from his rod and then lands on his head (9:5–6). Though resistant to the selection at first, Joseph is warned of the consequences when God’s intentions are disregarded and takes Mary (now described as the Virgin of the Lord) home under his guardianship (9:11–12).

The Annunciation and Mary as the Lord’s Virgin

Immediately after returning home, Joseph departs to build houses, leaving Mary under the watch of the Lord alone (9:12); Mary is soon summoned back to the temple to help weave the temple curtain. Reinforcing Mary’s royal lineage, the high priest remembers to include her among the other virgins found from the tribe of David to spin (10:1–6). By lot, Mary is given the scarlet and pure purple threads (10:7), symbolic of virtuousness and royalty, respectively. While working on her part of the curtain, one day Mary ventures out to a public space to draw some water (from a well or a spring)—a drastic contrast to the previous depiction of her private and enclosed childhood bedroom chambers and her stay at the temple. Only in this outdoor space is Mary first called upon by a bodiless voice that offers her greetings and blessings. Unable to locate the voice’s source, Mary returns to her house frightened (11:1–4). Perhaps to distract herself, Mary returns to her spinning only to be physically approached by an angel of the Lord who tells her not to fear because she is favored by the Lord and has been chosen to “conceive from his Word” (11:5). As in the Annunciation scene in Luke, but in a more creative manner and with additional details, Mary converses with the angel over how this conception will transpire given her status as a virgin. After the angel explains that she will not give birth like other women and that the power of God will overshadow her, she is instructed to name her child Jesus because “he will save his people from their sins” (11:7).

After fully consenting to her new role, Mary presents her part of the curtain to the high priest who blesses Mary’s work and says she will be “blessed among all the generations of the earth” (12:2). Mary then visits her kinswoman, Elizabeth. Miraculously expecting a child herself (the future John the Baptist), Elizabeth, much like her depiction in Luke, acknowledges Mary’s present state as significant and remarkable so much so that the child inside her has sprung up to bless her (12:5). However, unlike Luke’s depiction, Elizabeth does not offer praise of Mary for believing in the divine word nor does Mary respond with a song of praise (cf. the Magnificat of Luke 1:46–56). Instead, and oddly enough, Mary has actually forgotten the exchange she had with the angel Gabriel and again questions why she is the recipient of all these blessings. This exchange is not commented on further; instead, Mary is said to have simply stayed with Elizabeth for three months while her belly grew. Frightened and still unclear of how her situation came to be, the visibly pregnant Mary, now sixteen years of age, decides to return home to hide her condition from the “children of Israel” (12:6–9).

Joseph Returns Home to Mary at Six Months Pregnant

After three months have passed, Joseph returns home to find Mary six months pregnant and unable to explain her condition (cf. Matt 1:18). Breaking into a despairing lament over Mary’s pregnancy and his own failure to keep her safe, Joseph evokes an Adam and Eve analogy: just as Eve was deceived and defiled while alone, the same too has happened to Mary. Assuming that Mary is guilty of adultery, Joseph’s initial reaction of fright turns into an aggressive and accusatory questioning of his wife: “You who have been cared for by God —why have you done this? Have you forgotten the Lord your God? Why have you shamed your soul . . . ?” (13:6–7). After weeping bitterly, Mary responds to Joseph’s questions confidently and directly: “I am pure and have not known a man [sexually],” but is still unable to explain how she is pregnant (13:8–10). Joseph’s anger subsides, but he returns to a state of fear as he contemplates what he should do with her. Afraid that keeping the situation secret will get him into trouble with the law, but also that revealing it will result in an innocent death, Joseph contemplates divorcing her quietly (14:2–4; cf. Matt 1:19). Resolution comes when an angel appears to Joseph in a dream explaining to him that the child inside Mary was conceived by the Holy Spirit and that he will be responsible for “sav[ing] his people from their sins” (14:6 cf. Matt 1:20–23). After finding out the truth about Mary’s situation, Joseph glorifies God and recommits to his task of guarding the Virgin of the Lord.

Mary’s and Joseph’s Purity Tested

When Joseph’s absence at the council is noticed, Annas the scribe decides to inquire about his whereabouts only to find the temple virgin they put under his care is now pregnant (15:1–3). Joseph’s role as Mary’s protector or guardian is tested again. This time, however, the results are positive and Joseph stays loyal to Mary and stands trial for the accusations made by the temple priests (15:10–12, 14–15). Both Mary and Joseph are questioned harshly over the pregnancy and accused of humiliating themselves and lying—ironically, much in the same tone that Joseph used when he first questioned Mary. Both Mary and Joseph assert their innocence in the matter (15:13, 15). Unconvinced by their testimony, the high priest decides to leave it to God’s will to determine their fate by having them both undergo a test involving the drinking of bitter water and being sent into the wilderness (Num 5:11–31; and m. Sotah 5.1). After Mary and Joseph pass the test by returning safely, they are cleared of any charges and sent home.

Mary Gives Birth to Jesus

After some unspecified time has passed, but while Mary is still pregnant, a census ordered by King Augustus for all of Judea (cf. Luke 2:1, where the census is for the entire world) requires Mary and Joseph to travel to Bethlehem to register (17:1). The basic story line proceeds with other scenes from canonical Gospel accounts, including the birth of Jesus, the visit from the Magi, and King Herod’s attempt to locate and kill Jesus who has been prophesied to unseat him. The Protevangelium’s repackaging of the account, however, sets the scenes on a new and more vivid stage. While preparing for their travels Joseph contemplates how he should enroll Mary, underscoring their untraditional relationship: “How shall I register her? As my wife? I’m too ashamed to do that. As my daughter? The children of Israel know that she is not my daughter” (17:2–3). With both the appearance of his son Samuel (17:5) as a reminder that Joseph already has children and the repeated references to Mary as a child (17:2), Joseph’s role as guardian rather than husband is again highlighted. While en route to Bethlehem, Mary undergoes a prophetic experience in which she sees two peoples, one lamenting and the other rejoicing, most likely representing those who will not accept Jesus’ role in salvation history (i.e., the Jews) and those who will (i.e., “Christians”) (17:9). Whereas Luke’s infancy narrative has Mary give birth in Bethlehem, in the Protevangelium Mary starts experiencing contractions before they reach the town, thus forcing her to give birth in a cave outside of Bethlehem. After leaving his sons to guard and care for her, Joseph ventures out to locate a Hebrew midwife to help with the delivery. At this point in the narrative a major shift occurs not only in content, but also in writing style: Joseph experiences and relays in the first person a vision in which everything is suspended in time: “I . . . was walking, and yet I was not walking” (18:3); “the ones chewing were not chewing; and the ones lifting up something to eat were not lifting it up” (18:6). This interruption in time signifies the exact moment Jesus enters into the world.

When the suspension of time breaks, the narrative returns to Joseph’s search for a midwife. Upon finding one, Joseph engages in an awkward exchange with her over the status and relationship he has with Mary: “Then who is the one who has given birth in a cave? My betrothed . . . Is she not your wife? . . . She is Mary, the one who was brought up in the temple of the Lord . . . I received her by lot as my wife . . . she has conceived by the Holy Spirit . . . ” (19:5–9). The two finally make it back just in time to see a cloud overshadowing the cave, and an intense, bright light within the cave that recedes to reveal Mary with Jesus already nursing at her breast (cf. 5:9 when Anna waits the prescribed days). While the midwife is too late to help with the delivery, she does, however, help with attesting to the miraculous events that unfolded: “My soul has been magnified today because my eyes have seen an incredible sign . . . a virgin has given birth” (19:14–18). When a second midwife named Salome appears on the scene, the first unnamed midwife confesses to all that has transpired, but her testimony does not convince Salome. Requiring physical proof, Salome instructs Mary to position herself for a gynecological examination, in which Salome literally attempts to insert her fingers into Mary (20:2–4). The incompatibility of the sacred (Mary’s genitals) and the profane (Salome’s hand) results in the combustion of Salome’s hand (20:4). Immediately recognizing that this is punishment for her transgression and disbelief in the virgin birth, Salome calls out to the God of her fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and begs for forgiveness (20:5–7). Salome finds relief when an angel appears instructing her to hold the child if she wants to seek not just forgiveness, but also salvation and joy (20:9). After she is healed, Salome leaves the cave a believer, but is told not to report on any of what happened until the child goes to Jerusalem (20:12).

The Magi Pay Homage to Mary and Jesus

One of the last sections of the narrative follows the Magi who cause a commotion in Judea with their inquiry about the identity and whereabouts of the new king of the Jews (Matt 2:1–18). Like Matthew’s account, the Protevangelium attests to the Magi seeing a star in the East and following it because they seek the identity of the messiah as prophesied in the Jewish Scriptures (21:2). However, while Matthew reports that the star stopped at a house in Bethlehem “over the place where the child was” (Matt 2:9), the Protevangelium relates that the star from the East led them to the cave (21:10–11). In both accounts, the Magi approach and offer pouches of gold, frankincense-tree, and myrrh before Mary, who is identified in the Protevangelium for the first time as a mother (21:11). Both accounts include advice to Joseph and Mary not to go home via Judea since they will encounter Herod’s wrath; however, this message is sent by dream in Matt 2:12, but delivered by an angel in the Protevangelium (21:12). Herod responds to being tricked by the Magi by sending out his henchmen to kill all children two years old and younger. This element of Matthew’s story is expanded and given a colorful new life in the Protevangelium, where Jesus’ life is saved not by Joseph’s flight into Egypt (Matt 2:13–15), but through Mary’s quick wit and courage to wrap her child in swaddling clothes and hide him in an ox-manger (22:3–4; cf. Luke 2:7).

Herod’s Wrath, Zechariah, and the Epilogue

The remainder of the scene has no parallels in the canonical Gospels. Elizabeth’s son John is also in danger because of Herod’s threat. Finding no place to hide her son, Elizabeth heads to the mountains to escape the executioners, but when exhaustion prevents her from continuing on, she calls out to the Lord for help; the Lord responds by splitting open the mountain to conceal her (22:5–9). While Elizabeth is able to escape with her son, the fate of her husband is not so bright. Approached by Herod’s henchmen at the temple where Zechariah serves as a priest, he is questioned about his son’s whereabouts. When Zechariah provides no useful information, he is slain at the altar of the temple and his blood is said to have turned into stone (24:9). The narrative concludes with the priest entering the temple to find only dried blood at the altar but no body, the lamenting of Zechariah’s murder, and the appointment of Simeon as Zechariah’s replacement (24:4–14). A brief epilogue ends the Protevangelium with information about James, the brother of Jesus, the supposed author, and the circumstances surrounding the composition of his account—namely, that he was inspired and given wisdom to write the account during Herod’s reign when there was an uproar in Jerusalem (25:1–4) following Herod’s death and his son Archelaus’s subsequent rise to power.

Title

Despite the testimony of the epilogue, the “Protevangelium of James” is neither the original nor the ancient title of the text; over its long and complicated history it has gone by many different names. In 1552, when Guillaume Postel reintroduced the book to the West,12 he called the work, Protevangelium sive de natalibus Jesu Christi et ipsius Matris virginis Mariae, sermo historicus divi Jacobi minoris (The Proto-Gospel or the Births of Jesus Christ and His Virgin Mother Mary, A Historical Discourse of Saint James, the Less), based on a Greek manuscript that has since been lost.13 The Protevangelium Jacobi (or James, as in standard English translation for the Jacobs of the New Testament) is a shortened version of this Latin title. There has been some discussion over whether Postel lifted the title verbatim from the manuscript or whether he simply offered a rendering of it; the latter seems more likely since no other manuscripts attest to this title. The various extant manuscripts only complicate the situation further given that there are a variety of long and confusing titles given to this work. For example, one title reads, “Narrative and History concerning How the Very Holy Mother of God was Born for Our Salvation” (Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, gr. 1454) and another, “Narrative of the Holy Apostle James, the Archbishop of Jerusalem and Brother of God, concerning the Birth of the All Holy Mother of God and the Eternal Virgin Mary” (Venice, Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana, II, 82).14 The Bodmer Miscellaneous Codex, our earliest manuscript of the text dating from the third or fourth century,15 provides the simple title, “Birth of Mary, Apocalypse of James,”16 and even still, it is doubtful that the second half of the title is original,17 though the attribution to James is fairly common in the manuscript tradition. Several possible early witnesses exist for this text,18 but only one offers a title for the work. In his commentary on Matthew, Origen of Alexandria (ca. 185–254) refers to Jesus’ brother as Joseph’s son from a previous marriage and states that his source is either the “Gospel of Peter” or the “Book of James” (Comm. Matt. 10:17 on Matt 13:55).19 It is possible that the Protevangelium was originally known very plainly as the “Book of James.”

The Protevangelium of James20 and the Infancy Gospel of James21 or Proto-Gospel of James22 are the most widely used contemporary titles for this work,23 an odd circumstance since neither reference Mary, despite the fact that the text is essentially her biography—all activities and conversations that take place in the narrative are connected to her in some way. More problematic with these two popular titles is that they seem to imply they are something that they are not. The implication of “Protevangelium” is that it is a gospel of sorts. The gospel genre traditionally involves content from the life and ministry of Jesus, which is simply not found in this text. While the pre-script “proto-” is accurate in its suggestion that the text precedes what is found in the canonical gospels, the implication that it is a gospel is still problematic since Jesus appears only at the end of the account and for only brief moments at his birth and infancy. The fully English title, Infancy Gospel of James or the Proto-Gospel of James, runs into similar problems because it implies a similarity in content and style to other writings categorized as infancy gospels, which again are traditionally about Jesus. While Jesus does make an appearance at the end, the crux and overarching concern is for Mary.24 Indeed the birth of Jesus and the minor activities associated with his infancy serve primarily to elevate Mary and her exceptional status and condition.

While there is a clear case for why the title of our text should be changed, the traditional title in its semi-anglicized form, the Protevangelium of James, will be used here mostly for the sake of convenience; it is popularly and widely used25 and changing it will only contribute to confusion about its already complicated history, which offers no clear indication of its original form.

Date

General consensus assigns a mid-second century to early third-century date to the text. While dates as late as the fifth century were proposed at the beginning of the twentieth century, these proposals were debunked with the discovery of the third- or fourth-century Bodmer Miscellanous Codex in 1952, which serves as our earliest manuscript of the Protevangelium.26 In support of the earlier dating of the text scholars have looked for indications of knowledge of the text in the works of early church writers.27 As noted above, Origen (ca. 185–254) cites a “Book of James” or the “Gospel of Peter” as a source for the tradition that Joseph was previously married and had children before his engagement to Mary (Comm. Matt. 10.17). This belief is articulated several times throughout the narrative: Joseph’s protest against taking on Mary is based on his already having children (Prot. Jas. 9:9); Joseph makes reference to his sons and specifically names Samuel as one of his children when contemplating how he will register for the upcoming census (17:2); and Joseph leaves his sons to care for Mary while he searches for a midwife (18:1). Clement (ca. 150–215), an older contemporary of Origen, mentions the tradition of a midwife who aids Mary at the birth and attests to her virginitas in partu (Strom. 7.16). Although Clement does not provide a source for this knowledge, he does relay that it is a widely held belief by most people. Other witnesses to Mary’s post-partum virginity include Irenaeus of Lyon (Epid. 54), Ignatius of Antioch (Eph. 19.1), the Ascension of Isaiah 11:1–16, and the Odes of Solomon 19.28 Finally, the Carthaginian author Tertullian (ca. 160–225) vehemently refutes Mary’s eternal virginity (non virgo quantum a partu; Carn. Chr. 23) as well as the possibility that Jesus’ brothers and sisters were Joseph’s children from a previous marriage (Carn. Chr. 7).

P. A. van Stempvoort has drawn on additional evidence to propose a precise date of composition between 178 and 204 CE.29 The terminus a quo of ±178 CE is based on van Stempvoort’s reading of Celsus’s True Doctrine (preserved in Origen’s Contra Celsum), which attacks Mary’s character most viciously. Celsus questions the legitimacy of Mary’s virginity, respected lineage, high social background, and livelihood. Reading the Protevangelium as an apology, van Stempvoort asserts that the text functioned specifically to counter these slanders. For example, he cites the Protevangelium’s reference to Mary’s wealth and royal lineage as a rebuttal of Celsus’s accusation that Mary was a poor village girl who had to spin for a living (Cels. 1.28–32). His highly scandalous accusation that Mary’s child, born in secret, was the product of an adulterous relationship with a Roman soldier named Panthera (Cels. 1.32) is countered by the emphatic statements and physical proof of her maintained virginity found throughout the Protevangelium. Van Stempvoort adds that Origen knew a Biblos Iakobou and that many of his contemporaries had knowledge of the Protevangelium’s content, thus strengthening the earliest possible date of 178 CE. For his specific terminus ad quem date of 204 CE, Van Stempvoort looks to Hippolytus’s homily on Susanna (in Comm. Dan.). Seeing strong parallels between the depiction of Susanna and the two major female figures in the Protevangelium, he suggests that the parallels are indicative of a shared compositional time period. Van Stempvoort’s incredibly precise dating may give some readers pause,30 but his proposal shines important light on sources that may indicate knowledge of the Protevangelium. If Origen’s, Clement’s, and Tertullian’s source for all these unique details is indeed the Protevangelium, its terminus ad quem can be placed reasonably at the beginning of the third century CE.

Another ambitious attempt at dating the text has been made by George Zervos who has proposed a very early date based on his determination of a literary dependency between the Protevangelium and Justin Martyr (d. 160), who makes reference to Mary giving birth in a cave outside of Bethlehem (1 Apol. 1.33). Zervos proposes a date no later than 150–160, the period in which Justin was actively writing, and a date no earlier than 80–90 when Matthew and Luke were discussing the virgin birth.31 Zervos’s argument is based in part on the work of Émile de Strycker, who suggested that the Protevangelium knew Justin’s work grounded on four concordances he found between the two texts.32 Zervos reverses the direction of dependency.33 While Zervos has not been able to persuade many, his theory is intriguing and speaks to the range of proposed dates for our text.

Provenance

The Protevangelium’s provenance is one of the more debated issues surrounding the text’s origin, most likely because it is intricately related to questions regarding its relationship to Judaism (see section on relationship to Judaism below). Frequent dismissals of proposed geographical areas largely depended upon the text’s knowledge of Judaism or lack thereof. The problematic assumption that knowledge of “Jewish tradition and customs” would necessitate a Palestinian setting while the lack of this knowledge would require a different location functioned as the dominant determinant for how the text’s provenance should be discussed. Diasporic Jews who engaged in pilgrimages to Jerusalem offer a clear example of why such an approach is flawed, inasmuch as such travels gave them intimate knowledge of the geographical space of Jerusalem, despite not being inhabitants of the area.34

Other contentious criteria traditionally used for determining locale involve references to or knowledge of geographical and/or environmental details. De Strycker is often cited in this regard, as he rejected Palestine because of the author’s apparent confusion about the distance between Jerusalem, Judea, and Bethlehem with regard to Mary’s and Joseph’s travels. He argues instead for an Egyptian provenance based on linguistic features and the influence of Coptic elements in the author’s writing, but also on the description of the mountains and wilderness at Prot. Jas. 1:9; 4:5; and 16:4–5, which he argues is characteristic of the geographical landscape of Egypt.35 Also problematic is the close proximity of the gates of Jerusalem to the desert (Prot. Jas. 4:4–5), which persuaded de Strycker even further that the text was not composed in Palestine.36 É. Cothenet also supports Egypt as the place of origin, but his reasoning is based on Origen’s and Clement’s knowledge of the text.37

Not everyone has so readily rejected Palestine as a possible place of composition. Malcolm Lowe reevaluated the passages traditionally viewed as demonstrating ignorance of Palestinian geography and proposed instead an alternative interpretation of the details. He suggests that Joseph’s reference to being “in,” “near,” or “around” Bethlehem before preparing to “depart for Judea” (Prot. Jas. 21:1) may be influenced by John 3:22, where Jerusalem is described as distinct from Judea. In this case, Jesus is described as going forth into Judea from Jerusalem. Lowe also offers other examples from Jewish literature (e.g., Ezra 1:2, 1:3, 2:1; m. Ket. 4.12), which acknowledge that a distinction can be made between Jerusalem and Judea.38 In response to the widely accepted proposals by de Strycker over the location of mountains and deserts, Lowe also argues that Palestine cannot be so easily dismissed if one considers the heavy rainfall on the western slopes that would allow for the desert to start on the eastern slopes of the mountains that borders Jerusalem. To further support his claim, Lowe notes that the author calls the people not Ἰουδαῖοι (Judeans), but “Israel,” that is, the term commonly used by writers living in Palestine. The only reference to ᾿Ιουδαῖοι is made by one of the Magi, a non-Israelite, in his questioning of Herod over the location of the newborn King of the Jews. While Lowe’s investigation offers legitimate pause for the exclusion of Palestine, several scholars have noted that his explanation for Joseph going “from Bethlehem to Judea” at Prot. Jas. 21:1 is still not adequate.39

While the debate on provenance remains unsettled, perhaps the strongest contender for the text’s origin is Syria. Much like the arguments put forth for Egypt, however, traditional proposals have also relied on dubious assumptions about the proposed location’s geography and environment. H. R. Smid, for instance, rejected an Egyptian origin because he was unconvinced that the geographical details reflected a specifically Egyptian landscape. Opting for Syria instead, he cites the popular laurel trees and gardens of Syria as having inspired Anna’s garden scene.40 More recent trends have seen Syria as the more persuasive locale, but the criteria for determining such a conclusion have moved away from geographical details to a focus on literary parallels and the concerns and interests of the texts that may be more popularly reflected there. Ron Cameron notes that the Protevangelium’s harmonization techniques parallel the popular use of gospel harmonies in Syria.41 Drawing comparisons between the Protevangelium’s depiction of Mary’s unique virginal status and the birth of her child and those found in the second-century writings of the Ascension of Isaiah and the Odes of Solomon, J. K. Elliott also posits a Syrian provenance.42 In the case of the Ascension of Isaiah, these similarities include the absence of a midwife during the actual birth (Prot. Jas. 19:12–16; cf. Ascen. Isa. 11:14) and Mary’s virginitas post partum (Prot. Jas. 20:1–3; cf. Ascen. Isa. 11:10). Other correspondences between these two texts include the reference to Mary’s Davidic descent (Prot. Jas. 10:4; cf. Ascen. Isa. 11:2), Joseph’s depiction as a carpenter (Prot. Jas. 9:1; cf. Ascen. Isa. 11:2)43 and the reference to and use of lots or “portions” (Prot. Jas. 9:7, 10:7–8; cf. Ascen. Isa. 11:3).44

Another literary source that strengthens the case for Syria is Ignatius of Antioch’s letter to the Ephesians (19.1), which also attests to Mary’s virginity in partu, albeit it is only implied in that giving birth too did not nullify her status as virgin: “the virginity of Mary and her giving birth eluded the ruler of this age, likewise also the death of the Lord—three mysteries of a cry which were done in the stillness of God.”45 The Odes of Solomon, another text of Syrian origin, shares with both the Ascension of Isaiah and the Protevangelium the view that no midwife was present and that Mary seemed to suffer no pain during the delivery of the child (19:6–9). Though literary dependency between the texts may be difficult to prove, the parallels between the texts are too close to be mere coincidences and may suggest a common provenance.

If one takes into consideration the text’s overarching themes and concerns, Syria continues to be a leading contender for place of origin. Anti-docetic and anti-Marcionite views, for example, are prominent themes in sources of Syrian provenance. The Protevangelium’s detailed description of Mary’s pregnant body (12:7, 13:1), descriptions of physical discomfort (17:6–7) coupled with her nursing of Jesus (19:16), and a very corporeal gynecological examination (20:1–2) can be convincingly read as a response to docetic claims that regarded Jesus’ body as semblance (as Irenaeus taught of Marcion’s beliefs: Haer 4.33.2.5) and likened Mary’s experience of childbirth “as water through a tube” (Irenaeus on Valentinus: Haer. 1.7.2 and 3.11.3). Additionally, while Marcion’s docetic ideas are only known to us from his opponents’ writings, there is scholarly consensus that his canon excluded the first four chapters of Luke.46 This rejection of Jesus’ conception, genealogy, baptism, and temptation as well as information about his parents and the prediction of his birth (and John’s) could be seen as an attempt to sever all human connections and Jewish roots from Jesus. Such as position might readily be countered by the Protevangelium’s massive expansion of Mary’s upbringing and emphatic Davidic ties.

Additionally, the general Jewish-Christian milieu of Syria is consistent with the presentation of continued Jewish practices and customs in the Protevangelium. In particular, Torah observances especially related to the temple and concern for biblical law (especially purity regulations and dietary restrictions), fit in well with the kind of sentiments held by Paul, Matthew, and Ignatius on the appropriate relationship between Judaism and Christianity.47 These three writers, among others, attest to the vehement debates and the complicated relationship between Judaism and Christianity in the early Christian centuries. Some firmly rejected the fluidity between Jewish and Christian traditions and the continued Jewish observances held by some who professed Christ; precisely that same fluidity is promoted within the Protevangelium.48 Thus while a Syrian locale cannot be determined with absolute certainty, it is a highly plausible proposition and presently the most sensible conclusion.

Relationship to Judaism

As mentioned above, the Protevangelium’s relationship to Judaism is probably the most highly contested issue related to the text’s origins, as made evident by the various waves in scholarship for and against a Jewish connection. Early studies on the Protevangelium generally assumed a Jewish milieu for the text given its frequent use and deep knowledge of the Septuagint. Not only are names and characters drawn from portrayals of famous figures—including Joachim in Susanna 1–4 and Hannah in 1 Samuel 1:1–28—but Anna’s and Joachim’s characterizations exhibit clear parallels with the biblical barren couples Sarah and Abraham and Hannah and Elkannah.49 Van Stempvoort has argued that the stories of these biblical matriarchs and other Hellenistic Jewish sources including Susanna, Tobit, and Judith played a significant role in the crafting of Mary’s character in the Protevangelium. Moreover, van Stempvoort writes that the text’s tone, thought, language, usage, and motifs all point to the Septuagint as a source.50 Cameron makes a similar appeal, describing the Protevangelium as being entirely “steeped in the language of the Septuagint” not only in terms of its use of individual words and phrases, but also in style.51

In line with de Strycker, who also supported a Jewish milieu for the text, Smid was so persuaded by the parallels he saw between the text and the Septuagint that he offered a detailed proposal for the profile of the author: someone of Jewish descent born after the destruction of the Jerusalem temple in 70 CE or someone who was highly influenced by and/or had extensive knowledge of the Septuagint and the Hebrew Bible.52 Like Cameron and van Stempvoort, Smid saw the Protevangelium as heavily couched in the same thought and vocabulary of the Septuagint. To make his point, Smid notes various examples in which unique Septuagintal phrases like “the great day of the Lord” (ἡ ἡμέρα κυρίου ἡ μεγάλη; 1:4) and practices like the bitter water test administered by the temple priest (5:1) are used at pivotal points in the narrative.53

However, when these Jewish elements were scrutinized further, many of the parallels found in the Protevangelium did not seem to line up as closely with the Hebrew Bible in terms of its literature, traditions, rituals, and customs. Cullmann,54 Elliott,55 and Hock,56 among others,57 stress that a number of the Jewish traditions depicted in the Protevangelium are distorted representations of Jewish practices, including Joachim’s rejection at the temple because of his childlessness (1:5), Mary’s upbringing at the temple (7:1—9:10), and Joseph’s travels to Judea from Bethlehem (since Bethlehem is already in Judea) (21:1) as either being unknown practices or a misunderstanding of Jewish customs.58 With regard to misunderstanding Jewish traditions, the bitter water test (16:3) is perhaps the most widely referenced. Numbers 5:11–31, in which such a test is given to a wife who is suspected of adultery, is cited as the source of this scene. Upon drinking the bitter water and swearing an oath, two outcomes are possible to determine the loyalty of the accused wife: if she is innocent, nothing will happen and she will be able to bear children, but if she is guilty, she will experience immediate physical pain, whereby her uterus will drop and her womb will discharge. The punishment for swearing falsely, therefore, is the removal of the accused woman’s ability to have children. Elliott notes that the bitter water scene in the Protevangelium does not correspond with the test described in Numbers as both Mary and Joseph are required to take the test to determine whether the two consummated the marriage (a marriage arranged specifically by the same priests, no less).59 Numbers also offers other details including the tousling of the woman’s hair and a recitation of a curse formula. The intention and details of the bitter water test in Numbers, according to Elliott, are simply not present in the Protevangelium.

Michael Mach also dismisses the possibility of a Jewish or Jewish-Christian origin for the Protevangelium but for different reasons.60 Mach argues that etymological wordplays that have been used to justify possible connections to Judaism are in fact expressions that have been lifted from the Septuagint or the NT and cannot be used as evidence for any real connection between the text and Judaism.61 In addition, he is not persuaded by the argument that Mary’s appointment to weaving the temple veil has a halakhic basis, or rather knowledge of Jewish customs, because of the emphasis on her exceptional purity and virginity as the reason for her selection. He argues instead that this detail is not a uniquely Jewish custom given that various temples in Athens also required the purity of all workers.62

Those willing to see some possibility of a Jewish background for the text have reasonably looked for other expressions of early Judaism beyond simply the Septuagint and Hebrew Bible. Taking advantage of the fact that Judaism was highly diverse and that the formation of Jewish and Christian identities was still very fluid in the first few centuries CE, such scholars have contributed to new trends that do not so easily dismiss the Judaism question. W. S. Vorster, for example, explores the representation of the Jews in the text to nuance the approach for understanding the text’s relationship with Judaism. Noting that identifiably Christian texts often portrayed Jews in negative ways and Jewish customs and traditions as being superseded, Vorster finds that the Jewish leadership, people, and institutions are simply not portrayed in that way.63 He writes that Jewish leaders in particular are unexpectedly doing all the right things: they are helpers of the protagonist and the message of the text by offering blessings (17:3, et al.), praying (8:3 et al.), correctly performing rituals and rites (6:2; 8:2, 3; 24:1, et al.), and taking care of the temple and determining proper practices and norms (10:1; 15:3 et al.). Their authority and acts are also legitimized and verified by God as illustrated by the divine responses to questions and advice asked of him (8:3–8; 9:3–6). Vorster argues that even when Jewish leadership aggressively demands the testing of Mary and Joseph via the bitter water test, they still continue to support and contribute to the message of the Protevangelium in that Mary and Joseph are declared unequivocally to be innocent and pure. For all these reasons, Vorster suggests that the author likely had Jewish interests when crafting his story about Mary.

Cothenet also offers a proposal that reconsiders the text’s relationship with Judaism by expanding what constitutes Judaism in the first centuries CE. Describing the Protevangelium as one of the “premier midrash chrétien sur la Nativité de Marie,” Cothenet draws a number of parallels between the traditions depicted in the Protevangelium and the Jewish scriptures and stories found within rabbinic tradition.64 He also proposes that many of the Protevangelium’s motifs were influenced by those found in the Haggadah. Timothy Horner follows suit in this reevaluation by looking into rabbinic literature, but his approach is more careful in that he limits his sources to tannaitic traditions. He writes boldly that the “Prot. Jas. would have been best understood—perhaps only fully understood—within a community that was familiar with concerns and images of contemporary Judaism.”65 Past rejection of the text’s relationship to Judaism, according to Horner, was based on a disconnection between the Protevangelium and elements characteristic of Second Temple Jewish, pre-rabbinic literature.

Horner’s most intriguing proposal is that some of the Protevangelium’s major themes—including childlessness, betrothal, marriage, and virginity—are more fruitfully read in the context of ideas found in the Mishnah.66 For instance, he argues that Mary’s life can be divided into three stages: birth to age three, ages three to twelve, and from twelve to adulthood—corresponding to the life cycle of girls found in the Mishnah. Specifically, m. Nid. 5.4 and m. Ket. 1.1–3 describe the parameters of virginity loss; namely, the virginity of a girl three years and a day or younger can be assured, whereas the virginity of a girl older than three years and a day cannot.67 For Horner, this mishnaic tradition offers insight into why Anna and Joachim decide to dedicate their daughter at the age of three instead of their initial plan to send her to the temple at the age of two. Even more, Horner takes up the highly contested bitter water test scene arguing that the Protevangelium’s version is more aligned with the mishnaic discussion of the Sotah than with Numbers 5:11–31 since the former describes a test to determine fidelity by acting as a sort of truth-telling serum.68 In the Protevangelium, Mary and Joseph are required to take the test because both are being questioned about their actions; additionally, the test is not used to determine an illegitimate pregnancy.

While Horner’s proposal has been criticized given that his approach attempts to connect the text with the Mishnah, an early third-century collection which has no historical evidence of exerting influence in the second century, his point is well taken that the parallels between the Protevangelium and the Mishnah help to reevaluate the text’s relationship with Judaism, even if no direct relationship can be determined. Horner’s study also helps problematize the questions concerning categories. Describing the difficulty of determining the influence of Jewish Scriptures on apocryphal literature more generally, Tobias Nicklas asserts that much of the struggle has to do with the fact that while one can locate intertextual relationships between apocryphal writings and what we now know as the Hebrew Bible or the Old Testament, “there was no fixed Jewish ‘canon’ (in the sense of a fixed list of writings)—neither in the form of a Tanak nor as ‘the’ Septuagint.”69 Nicklas’s comments generally construed remind us of the fluidity and murkiness of categories and boundaries related to Jewish and Christian literature and identities in the first few centuries of the Common Era, the period in which general consensus holds our text to have been written. These ideas concretely problematize the position that the Protevangelium has no real connections to Judaism.

Genre, Purpose, and Possible Audience

The Protevangelium’s genre, purpose, and even possible audience are closely connected to the text’s overarching goals. Scholarship on the text has proposed a number of reasons for its creation including, “filling in gaps,” “expanding,” and “interpreting” the writings of the New Testament (see also the section on sources below).70 In many ways, the Protevangelium does fill in gaps by providing its readers with rich and detailed descriptions of an incredibly prominent woman in Christian history, but for whom we receive precious little information in the canonical Gospels about her character, history, or background. Some have suggested that the popularity of infancy gospels (cf. the section on title above) inspired interest in creating literature about the early life of Mary, a process that ultimately developed into a need to provide her with her own biography. Many have read the Protevangelium as a vital part of the ancient biographical genre that sought to better understand and to help quench the desire to know more about the lives of the “rich and famous.”

Another popular genre of literature among early Christians, especially prior to Constantine, was apologetics. As a tradition that had not yet gained complete legitimacy throughout the Roman Empire, Christianity felt the need to craft writings that were apologetic in nature or at least had apologetic aims. The Protevangelium’s specific claim that Mary conceived and gave birth as a virgin seems to respond to various Jewish and/or “pagan” polemics against Mary. A number of scholars have argued that the work shows clear signs of being motivated by apologetic concerns.71 Van Stempvoort takes this proposal a step further by suggesting the text is specifically intended to counter Celsus’s attacks on Mary. He views the specific details of Mary’s proven and enduring purity and virginity, the description of her parents as wealthy and respected members of the community (1:1–3), and Mary’s weaving of the temple curtain (12:1) as direct responses to Celsus’s accusations that Mary had a child out of wedlock with a Roman solider, was the daughter of poor and socially insignificant parents, and that she spun for a living.72

Galit Hasan-Rokem traces the roots of Celsus’s polemic to folkloric Jewish tradition that may have begun in the first century.73 Two rabbinic references come to mind that offer some parallels. In the Tosefta (t. Hull. 2.22–24) there is a reference to a “Yeshu ben Panthera” who might be a thinly-veiled Jesus given that various versions of the illegitimate birth of Jesus claimed he was the son of a Roman soldier named Panthera. In the later traditions of b. San. 106a, there is also a reference to an unnamed woman who is described as playing the “harlot with carpenters”—a possible reference to Mary given Joseph’s frequent association with carpentry. That the Protevangelium repeatedly affirms Mary’s virginity by having a number of different and independent witnesses—including the angel (11:5–8), Joseph (14:5), the priest and people of Israel (16:5–8), an unnamed midwife (19:14), and Salome (20:1–2, 10)—attest to her certainly indicates an attempt to refute any slanderous and defamatory remarks made against her character. Bart Ehrman and Zlatko Pleše remind us, too, that doctrinal debates and theological discussions about Mary’s purity and eternal virginity, which occupied various councils from the fourth century and beyond, were rooted in the Protevangelium’s apologetic discourse.74

The incredibly flattering depiction of Mary in the Protevangelium has encouraged Hock to suggest another possible reason for its creation. Namely, Hock reads the consistent praising of Mary as an encomium consistent with the Greco-Roman standards of literature written with the purpose to praise. While he does not deny that the narrative serves apologetic concerns, he asserts that it “hardly needs to be the principal purpose [and] does not explain the gospel as a whole.”75 Indeed, the Protevangelium’s overwhelming focus on Mary’s purity greatly exceeds any proof needed to defend accusations made against her status. To offer support, Hock compares the text with the expectations of Hermogenes’ Progymnasmata to argue that the Protevangelium was crafted and guided with these criteria in mind. As a teaching manual, the Progymnasmata provides instructions and examples of common characteristics for encomium writing. Family, national origin, upbringing, achievements, and virtuous deeds are several aspects commonly found in Greco-Roman encomiums, all of which Hock sees as being directly addressed in the Protevangelium.76 Consistent with Hock’s claim, Mary Foskett argues that the driving force behind the narrative is “praise of Mary—rather than the need to defend her.”77

The deliberate focus on Mary and her extraordinary features has also convinced Stephen Shoemaker that the main motivation of the text must be the extolling of Mary for her own sake, rather than, for example, Christological reasons that sought to confirm Jesus’ divinity though his mother’s virginal birth. No doubt, the Protevangelium addresses these concerns by making clear that Jesus was truly born of a virgin, but the narrative’s focus is wholly devoted to Mary;78 indeed Jesus seldom appears and only in the context of his mother giving birth to him. Mary no longer functions as the protagonist in the final section of the narrative (22–25), but Jesus is absent also. The reality of Jesus’ virgin birth need not require an entire book to demonstrate what can easily be made plain in a single chapter.

Authorship, Sources, and Literary Unity

The epilogue of the Protevangelium attributes the work to James, the brother of Jesus and the bishop of Jerusalem (Matt 13:55; Mark 6:3; Gal 1:19; Acts 15:13–21) and sets the time of its composition during the period in which Herod was king of Judea (25:1–4). The Protevangelium, however, is a pseudonymous work and as such, its authorship, as well as date and provenance are difficult to determine with precision and have spurred some debate among modern scholars. While more recent trends in apocrypha scholarship have cautioned against offering exact identities about authors and intended readers/audiences,79 especially based on approaching texts through “mirror reading,”80 some general inferences can certainly be made of the author’s educational exposure and cultural background. For example, like Matthew and Luke, the author has a clear knowledge of the Septuagint, as evident in the close affinities between the depiction of Mary and the biblical matriarchs including Sarah (Gen 18, 20–21) and Hannah (1 Sam 1–2) mentioned above, but also because the tone, thought, language, usages, and motifs found in the Protevangelium resemble Septuagint texts too closely to be coincidental.81 Other Hellenistic Jewish sources such as Susanna (Dan 13:1–64), Tobit, and Judith also seem to have a deep influence on the Protevangelium in terms of style and motifs.

Literary elements and social conventions from Greco-Roman romances also have been detected in the Protevangelium. In particular, Hock has argued that Anna’s lament in the garden (3:2–8), Joseph’s wailing in response to Mary’s condition (13:1–5), and the bitter water test (16:3–8) all parallel the style, language, and motifs found in the Greek romances of Longus’s Daphnis and Chloe and Achilles Tatius’s Leucippe and Clitophon.82 In the former case, Daphnis’s lament also takes place in a garden (4.28.3). In Achilles Tatius’s novel, Clitophon expresses a lament closely resembling Joseph’s (5.11.3) and Leucippe is also required to take a water test to prove her purity (8.3.3; 6.1–5; 13.1—14.2). Furthermore, Hock argues that certain Greco-Roman conventions may also help understand details that would be understood easily by the audience of the Protevangelium, but might be lost on a modern reader. For example, he cites Chloe’s discussion with her mother Nape, who warns that her virginity might be more safeguarded at home spinning rather than out frolicking on the hillsides, as an aid to understanding why Mary rushes home to her threads upon hearing a bodiless voice (Prot. Jas. 11:1–4). For Hock, Greek novels share with the Protevangelium a deep concern for sexual purity, providing insight not only into the intentions of the writing but also, by implication, the audience who valued and “read” these works.

Questions regarding specific sources for the text have also proven difficult to answer. Given that the Protevangelium can be divided into three main parts and at two points the narrative switches to the first person (chaps. 18 and 25), albeit with two different first person voices, has led some to suspect multiple sources. At the end of the nineteenth century Adolf von Harnack was the first to suggest the Protevangelium was a composite text when he posited three independent sources each with differing dates of composition: a biography of Mary’s nativity, which informed the beginning of the text’s description of her lineage, miraculous birth, upbringing by her parents and the temple priests, engagement to Joseph, and conception of Jesus (chaps. 1–17; early third century); a Joseph source comprising Joseph’s first-person experience of time suspension and Mary’s postpartum inspection (chaps. 18–20; late second century); and a Zechariah source, which offers an account of Zechariah’s death (chaps. 21–24; second century).83

Von Harnack’s source theory was convincing and left unchallenged for some time until the discovery of the Bodmer Miscellaneous Codex in the mid-twentieth century, which proved that the text comprised all three sections (minus the “suspension of time” passage of chapter 18) at a very early date.84 More recent trends too have seen a shift away from multiple source theories and have argued instead for the literary unity of the text. Hock notes that many of the discrepancies observed about the Protevangelium could be explained persuasively as various oral traditions available to the author as well as arguments dependent upon rhetorical reasoning.85 Specifically, Bovon has argued that the switch from third to first person supports the overall goals of the text and makes even more emphatic the importance of the moment being described, namely the birth of Jesus.86 Perhaps the strongest and initial catalyst for the shifting trend can be attributed to de Strycker and Elliott who argue that the vocabulary and compositional structure of the text point clearly to a unified work.87 Hock too observes the consistency of the text’s syntax and word choice as evidence for literary unity, but makes the argument for concordance from a different perspective. Looking to the dominant theme of purity as the binding agent, Hock writes that “it is difficult to imagine anyone more pure than Mary” and that it is this overarching concern for her purity that informs the Protevangelium thematically and structurally.88

No new or substantial arguments have been made to shift discussion away from the current consensus that the Protevangelium is a unified text. In fact, various recent studies on the Protevangelium have presumed the text is coherent and such unity is used as a springboard or justification for other inquiries into the text, especially ones that employ literary analysis.89 Important to note, however, is that the arguments for literary unity in the text do not exclude the use of sources by the author or the editing of the narrative at a later date. The author shows clear signs of literary influence from a number of different sources; the literary unity of the text simply holds the position that the Protevangelium can be read as a coherent whole.

Mary’s Characterization as Virginal and Pure

Even the most cursory reading of the Protevangelium will reveal the deep and overarching theme of Mary’s extreme and unparalleled purity. As a narrative devoted to providing more information about the mother of Jesus, every aspect of Mary’s character is defined by her purity and every detail disclosed is for the purpose of enhancing her status. Perhaps most obviously, Mary’s perpetual virginity dominates most discussions regarding her purity and has often been used as justification for viewing her as the New Eve, since she alone is immune to the curse placed on the primordial woman of Genesis (Gen 2:16) because of her extraordinary virginity.90 No doubt, Mary is emphatically declared to be a virgin before, during, and after the birth of Jesus. This claim is not simply vocalized by various characters throughout the narrative, but actually imbedded in her title as the Virgin of the Lord, an honor bestowed upon her the moment she leaves the sacred space of the Jerusalem temple (9:7). Every scene in the Protevangelium is carefully constructed either to ensure that her sexual purity is safeguarded or to verify that it is still intact.

Three specific scenarios in particular stand out as tests and proof of Mary’s virginal state.91 The first occurs when she is questioned harshly by Joseph about her pregnant state after he has been away for several months wherein he implies Mary was deceived and corrupted in a manner liken to Eve (13:1–7). Mary speaks only eight times throughout the entire narrative so it is especially significant that three of these occurrences involve defenses of her purity and innocence.92 The first two of these three declarations occur when she responds to Joseph in a clear and active voice that she is innocent and has not had sexual relations with any man (13:8) and when Mary vows that she does not know how she became pregnant (13:10).

The second time Mary defends her virginity she does so in language similar to her response to Joseph, but the claim this time is made before the high priest: “I am pure before him and I do not know a man” (15:13). Mary’s third declaration of innocence is also found in a tense situation involving the verification of her virginal state. In this second scenario the stakes are higher, but so are the rewards. When both Mary and Joseph are questioned about her pregnant state, Mary’s virginal status is doubly defended not only by her own voice, but also by Joseph, who declares that he is pure concerning Mary. The testing escalates when the high priest requires them to take the “Lord’s drink test” (16:3–8) with the purpose of disclosing their sin, moving the defense of Mary’s virginity from a vocal declaration and a private affair to a physical testing and a public matter.

The third scene emphasizing Mary’s sexually pure state and role as the Lord’s virgin has the goal of presenting Mary as a virgin to an even higher level when she is questioned and given a gynecological examination by a midwife (20:1–2). The results, of course, are that the midwife physically confirms her extraordinary and paradoxical state as virgin mother (20:3–4, 10–11). In other words, Mary’s pre- and post-partum virgin status is repeatedly established by all major characters in the narrative (Joseph, Mary, the priests, all the people, the angel, and the Lord God) and verified through the physical testing of both Mary and Joseph.