Sunday, March 31

An Introduction to Ancient Christian Magic and Amulets

The phrase "Christian magic" raises a number of questions. When I speak of Christian magic, I am not referring to the modern-day phenomenon of Christians who utilize ritual elements from ancient texts, but rather, a selection of texts containing Christian elements, names of power (angels, apostles, names of God), Scriptural quotes or citations, and similar features. As described by Marvin Meyer and Richard Smith, in their book, Ancient Christian Magic: Coptic Texts of Ritual Power, "These texts deal with what most people would regard as magic - spells, charms, amulets, and so on. They date from about the first to the eleventh or twelfth century C.E., with the majority from late antiquity... And virtually all are texts by Coptic Christians from ancient and early medieval Egypt" (1). The distinction between religion, magic, and mysticism continues to be debated by scholars, but in short, "Christian magic" here encapsulates materials connected in one way or another to early Christian communities, showing us their day-to-day concerns, or to ritual specialists (local "magicians," if you will) or scribes who appropriated and incorporated Christian elements into their materials. 

Several years ago, when I was first reading literature about early "Christian magic," one of the books I encountered and presented on was t
he 2017 book Making Amulets Christian: Artefacts, Scribes, and Contexts by Professor Theodore De Bruyn. This book is a little under 250 pages, and is divided into six chapters. De Bruyn is a Professor of Classics and Religious Studies at the University of Ottawa in Canada. He has degrees in English Literature, Church History, Theology, and Public Administration. His research has focused on various aspects of ancient Christianity, primarily in the time of the later Roman Empire.

(British Museum ; 2nd-3rd c.)
De Bruyn has translated into English two important early Latin commentaries on Paul’s Letter to the RomansHe has also published numerous articles on interactions between institutional forms of Christianity and the production of amulets in Egypt in late antiquity, culminating in this present book-length study. In his own words, “I’m interested in what we can learn from these materials about how people, in fact, lived as Christians. About what they did, rather than what they were ‘supposed’ to do,” according to Church authorities. 

For my own part, I argue that these materials are important for showing us the concerns of non-elite Christians. That is, while we have writings of the patristics, theologians such as St. Augustine of Hippo and apocryphal texts that speak to other Christian traditions, the magical texts show us what concerns a given community had and were going to a local specialist about. These materials give voice to those Christians. The early Christian magical texts can also reveal a lot about scribal practices, local culture, religious "syncretism," and other historical pieces, but for me, hearing the voice of Christians through these materials is equally as important. 

Returning to De Bruyn's text, an overview of this important work can serve as a helpful introduction to ancient Christian magic, and its amuletic tradition, hence why I have chosen to focus on it for this post. His first chapter, “Normative Christian Discourse,” begins by examining how early writers from the 2nd and 3rd centuries such as Tatian, Justin Martyr, Irenaeus, Julius Africanus and Origen tried to distinguish Christian practice from “magical” rituals. However, as De Bruyn notes, they likely did not know individual practitioners and had no firsthand knowledge. He also references St. Antony of the Desert, who in his biography by Athanasius is said to have “contrast[ed]… Christian methods [such as] calling upon Christ and making the sign of the cross with… magical techniques [and] invocation of idols” (31).

Next, he looks at the “Two Ways”, that is, the Way of Life and the Way of Death, frequently discussed in the first few centuries of Christian discourse. The Two Ways were mentioned in a number of early “Church Manuals” or “Church Orders” such as the Didache, the Apostolic Traditions, the later Apostolic Constitutions, as well as writings by Patristics, and others. De Bruyn points out that the Two Ways had particular influence in Egypt, as evidenced partly by the Didache’s availability in Coptic. Those who follow the Way of Life are exhorted, while those who follow the Way of Death - by using potions, uttering incantations, honoring demons - are condemned. 

Typically, those who follow the Way of Death - clerics and laypeople alike - are considered apostates and are barred from parts of the Mass, and must act as penitents for a given period of time. De Bruyn points out that unlike Church authorities, the Roman authorities, “were in most circumstances unconcerned about protective or healing rituals, incantations, or devices” (40). In other words, the first few centuries of Christianity were concerned about differentiating between “true” Christians, and those who practiced “magic.” 

The second chapter covers materials used, format and writing, as well as acoustic and visual elements of amulets. In writing an amulet, everything from papyrus, parchment, potsherds (the most common form of ostraca), strips of metal (lamellae), to wooden tablets and stone were used. Papyrus was the most commonly used for incantations, although metal or other durable material was typically used for binding incantations. Papyrus, as we may well know, was commonly used in Egypt. From the 5th century onward, however, the shift to parchment began. Other materials included ostraca, which was even cheaper than papyrus, and popular in places such as the desert where papyrus would have had to be brought in. Rarer materials included bone, limestone, and semiprecious stones. In rare circumstances, gold or silver would be used. Wood, if used, was typically placed in tombs or a niche. Many of the amulets only had verses of Scripture, but others included appeals for help, healing or protection. 

In terms of format, typically manuals instructed practitioners to write on a new piece of papyrus, not on previously used papyrus. In terms of writing, the material was typically written in a semi-cursive or cursive “hand”, and it seems clear that most material was written by more or less practiced scribes. Although most of the scribes were men, at times there were women among the writers of this material. Some of the amulets were written in “word shapes,” such as an inverted grape cluster, a pyramid shape, an egg shape or a rectangle. Sometimes the texts are written below or beside the word shape, above it or even around it or a figure. Charakteres are also used. These are esoteric signs, an invented script that defies reading, and are unintelligible. Another feature found in many amulets was adding little circles (or other shapes) at the end of strokes. These are called “ring letters,” and were often used in Coptic incantations.


Even figures of Jesus, angels and demons are drawn in the style of ring letters or included with them. Although figures are infrequent in this material, we find examples such as Oxyrhynchus 1077 - the Curative Gospel of Matthew (pictured; from Muhlenberg College, Special Collections and Archives). The next feature discussed is Nomina Sacra, a term introduced by Ludwig Traube in 1907. The term refers to abbreviated forms of certain words such as God, Lord, Jesus and Christ, often found in Greek manuscripts, but also present in Coptic. Typically a stroke is made over an abbreviated word. They could serve as an aid to reading, but were also part of the visual appearance of an amulet. We also sometimes find signs that are either a cross (equilateral cross), a staurogram (monogram comprised of Greek letters tau and rho: ΤΡ or τρ), and the christogran (monogram comprised of Greek letters chi and rho). These were not strictly Christian, but they were used frequently by the 4th century onward in Christian circles. The letters Alpha and Omega (as in Revelation) were also commonly used, as were Koppa and Theta (Α, Ω, Κ, θ or α, ω, κ, θ).

De Bruyn's third chapter looks at “Manuals of Procedures and Incantations,” in which discusses the "Theban Archive," fragmentary Greek collections, and Coptic manuals. He notes that although we know there were ritual manuals circulating in Egypt during these centuries, the manuals were not as broadly copied and maintained, in monasteries for example, as were works of poetry, satire, philosophy, or scripture. One notable exception is the Theban Archive, which was compiled in the 3rd and 4th century, mostly made up of "recipes" or spells giving instructions for rituals, incantations, material preparations and objects. 

Such materials provide a glimpse as to when Christian elements started appearing more prominently in these spheres. Some of these are preserved in the Greek Magical Papyri in Translation (PGM), edited and translated by Hans Dieter Betz. The name of Jesus, for example, sometimes appears in a list of other divine figures as a "name of power." Two passages from PGM 4 use the name of Jesus in exorcisitic spells, one saying “I adjure you by the God of the Hebrews, Jesus,” and the other invoking the name of “Jesus Chrestos” as the Jewish God. I will further explore those two exorcistic spells in an upcoming blog post.

Along with the Theban Archive, some fragmentary Greek collections still survive as well. Typically they are remains of a manual, or a few recipes for personal use. Most of these lack Christian elements, but there are a few exceptions. These include a litany, a multilingual collection, misc. healing texts, and others. De Bruyn also discusses a 6th century "Buried Manual," that is, a manual found buried in a jar in the floor of a monk’s cave near a monastery in Thebes. De Bruyn notes, “it confirms that monks might own manuals consisting largely of Graeco-Egyptian recipes with few, if any, Christian references” (84). It is notable that it was not found in the monastery library, but again, buried in the hermit’s cave. He contends that these manuals are significant because they tell us a great deal about scribal practices, transmission, and how these collections were used and copied. They tell us a lot about the culture of different periods in which they appeared.

For Chapter 4 and Chapter 5, De Bruyn goes into greater detail on each of the spells he looks at, and while each of them demonstrate the use of various scribal features and Christian elements, I will avoid delving into each one individually, and will simply share highlights. His fourth chapter, “Scribal Features of Customary Amulets,” covers amulets against snakes and scorpions, amulets against fever and illness, binding incantations, and prayers for justice. Amulets for snakes and scorpions are also numerous in the papyri tradition of ancient Egypt, some of which appear to have been written from memory. In terms of Christian elements, we find references to Michael or Jesus, a cross, or a mention in one amulet (PGM P2) of St. Phocas, a Syrian martyr believed to heal people from snakebites when they reached the entrance of his tomb. That amulet is also interesting as it shows the development of the growing "cult of saints."

Another snakebite amulet has various symbols that reflect iconography of Christian tombstones and gems in the 4th and 5th centuries. In some spells, the names of Jesus or Christ are actually spelled phonetically. Many of these amulets began with invocations to Horus, and also invoke Jesus so we have in these examples of religious "syncretism" at the scribal level. In another amulet, we find different names for God (such as Eloi, Adonai, and Iao Sabaoth) treated as if they were separate entities instead of one God, which raises questions of how well-versed a given scribe was with Christianity, though it is worth noting that this undoubtedly varied from scribe to scribe.

The next group of amulets he looks at are against Fever and Illness. Regarding one interesting feature, De Bruyn speculates, “The powerful names could be written in a diminishing word-shape (a grape cluster or a wing-shape) that was probably symbolic of the fleeing fever” (99). One healing spell for a a man named Joseph invokes "Christ, the "white wolf," the sun god "Horos-Apollo," and despite the use of Egyptian figures, the text reveals itself as coming from a period where Christian conventions were well known. 

Next, De Bruyn looks at "Amulets in a Christian Idiom." A few of these came from the 6th century. Some of these were closer to the language of the institutional Christian culture. One significant text that De Bruyn mentions ends with a prayer to “our lady the Theotokos,” and is one of our earliest witnesses in Egypt appealing to Mary. Various locally venerated saints were used in these spells, too. Several amulets betray a strong familiarity with the liturgy and biblical texts, either by direct quote or paraphrase, and others include historiola, such as the story of Jesus being pursued by Jews, and upon arriving at the Euphrates River, he sticks his staff in, and the water stands still. De Bruyn also notes the popular apocryphal letter of Jesus to Abgar, which was given a status akin to the canonical gospels in Coptic Christianity, and it survives in many formats, including as amulets.

There are a few versions of the story, but in one, Jesus grants healing through his reply to Abgar, king of Edessa in Syria, and Jesus promises that wherever his letter is laid, that place will be protected against the adversary and evil spirits. This is why inscriptions of this letter have been found at a grave, a gate, and above a door of a house. In one amuletic example, the entire letter appears, but interspersed throughout are appeals for healing of a particular person, as well as the injunction “heal, quickly, quickly,” right in the middle of sentences. Another amulet ends simply with a monastic injunction, and both show a familiarity with the Abgar tradition. This apocryphal correspondence was very popular, as one might imagine with an alleged letter of Jesus Christ. I will be discussing the Jesus-Abgar tradition more in-depth in its various forms of materiality in an another upcoming post.

Next, De Bruyn looks at Binding Incantations. Some of these fall under the category of Amatory Incantations - in other words, erotic amulets. Those with Christian elements are - as you might expect - quite rare. The scarcity of these texts is likely due to Christian moral and ascetic norms. Those we do have, however, refer to a legendary “crown of stars upon the head of Jesus,” the binding of Christ upon the wood of the cross, and one invokes the authority of God and the archangel Gabriel who caused Joseph to take Mary as his wife. From these amulets, De Bruyn moves on to prayers for justice. Many of these invoked Jesus or the archangels, and some were addressed to holy martyrs. A prayer curse used by a mother against a woman named Tnoute, in which she invokes a number of Christian elements, is grouped with these materials. 

The fifth chapter is “Scribal Features of Scriptural Amulets”. There are 3 principal ways in which Scripture appears in amulets: through their titles or opening words (incipits), through recitation and quotation, and through retelling (historiolae). First, he looks at Titles and Opening Words, which are almost exclusively the opening words of the gospels, Psalm 90, the Lord’s Prayer, and in one, the letter of Jesus to Abgar. Interestingly, we find admonitions by Bishops that allow for the wearing of a “gospel” as a substitute for "pagan" practices. Since it was, understandably, impossible to wear an entire Gospel as an amulet, scribes usually only wrote the opening words of the texts - these are called "incipits." Citing the opening words or title, in most cases, was meant to represent or refer to the full text. They were written on all of the aforementioned types of materials, along with medallions and pendants. Some amulets draw on specific passages from the Gospels used for healing, like The Curative Gospel of Matthew (pictured above)

De Bruyn then turns to the Lord’s Prayer. Some amulets give a version from a particular liturgy, the entire prayer from Matthew’s version, or only fragments. There are variations in spelling, wording, word order, and phrases that are taken out. One version we have in Meyer and Smith's Ancient Christian Magic has the Lord’s Prayer jumbled in with a Solomonic exorcism, passages from the Gospel of Luke and an adjuration (ACM 21). It is an example of the value placed on the written word: the efficacy of the words, the verbal powers - even when the written word is unintelligible to the writer. After this, De Bruyn looks at Psalm 90 (91 in some Bibles). It is found on the usual materials, but also on armbands, medallions, rings, tablets, and inscriptions on door frames, houses and graves. The material from Egypt in late antiquity includes more amulets citing this Psalm than any other Psalm. There are also a little more than 40 other Psalms which appear to have been used as amulets as well, such as Psalm 3 or 62, though much more infrequently. Other passages from the New Testament (outside of the Gospels) also appear in the amulets, though they were not as common.

The sixth chapter, “Christian Ritual Contexts,” looks at some of the ways in which Christian elements in incantations in the amuletic tradition were informed by rituals of the Church in Egypt. Incantations incorporate acclamations found in the Eucharistic liturgy and other services, for example, as well as draw on biblical passages recited in daily prayer. The Liturgies of St. Mark, St. Cyril, St. Basil St. Gregory were commonly used at this time, so some amulets draw from these liturgical traditions. One amulet from the 6th century includes adjurations, for example, that are also found in Byzantine liturgical exorcisms. Some also include allusions to Solomon’s control of demons, as well as litanies used in liturgies. The “Amen” is also a frequently used acclamation found in the amulets. 

For most Christians, De Bruyn notes, “Amen” was a word they said and heard during prayer and worship, not a word they read or wrote. So it is significant that it was written (and possibly uttered) repeatedly in some amulets. This could be an example of verbal powers, a word that was very efficacious in its own context, that is multiplied by its use in a ritual context. The Sanctus (the "Holy, Holy, Holy" from Isaiah 6), Hosanna, Benedictus and Trinitarian formula are also in the amuletsWhat is significant is that the scribe, in crafting the amulet, uses a Sanctus that is specific to a particular liturgy, confirming the role of the liturgy not only in establishing the value or verbal power of the acclamation, but also determining its wording. Other parts of Daily Prayer typically used by monks and anchorites appear in the amulets, too.

From here, De Bruyn looks at Exorcism. Spirits are often used in binding spells, but are also invoked and warded. Some of these spirits are simply neutral beings, while others are more hostile. In spells used to dispel fevers or other ills, the name of Jesus is invoked to drive away evil spirits. As sickness was perceived to be the work of evil spirits, it makes sense that an exorcism in the name of Jesus is invoked in cases of healing. Typically these exorcisms from the amulet tradition also contain christological acclamations or creedal statements from the liturgies. The Veneration of Saints is another piece that De Bruyn looks at. Although the veneration of saints was widely institutionalized in the Egyptian church, only a small number of saints are invoked in amulets. Saints George, Mary, Victor, Phocas, Mercurius, and Serenus are some examples, along with the archangels, often named as saints. Mary is the saint most frequently named or alluded to in the amulets. The cult of the 40 Martyrs, while popular elsewhere in the 4th and 5th centuries, arrived relatively late in Egypt, in the 7th century. They are also mentioned, sometimes by individual name, in the amulets.

In his final chapter, De Bruyn looks at Alternative Doxological Traditions. Some of these are simply incantations that differ from orthodox Christian belief, such as a re-ordering of the trinitarian formula (placing the Holy Spirit before the Son), but we also find an amulet that invokes “Father, Son, Mother.” Other amulets appear to indicate Sethian or Valentinian influence. Some Manichean prayers or hymns of praise have been suggested to be amulets, but it is inconclusive. The challenge is that we cannot know for certain if the variations are simply scribes improvising, or unfamiliarity with the “orthodox” beliefs and theology of the institutional church, or if they do in fact reflect alternate doxologies. As a result, the connections are tentative and speculative at best, but open up interpretive possibilities. Regarding these possible liturgical connections, De Bruyn says, “this is the nature of ‘lived religion.’ Resources generated collectively are appropriated individually. Individuals may alter the traditions they receive and attach their own meanings to them” (234). Drawing conclusions by generalizing the available material is challenging, because we lose the specificity of each amulet. That said, De Bruyn believes it is important to do so.

Early Christian amulets ranged from those composed almost entirely of customary elements with only slight Christian elements, to those composed entirely of scriptural passages. They often made use of liturgical or scriptural phraseology. Yet there was room for individuality, as very few of the amulets are identical. Some scribes were clearly practiced writers, others were not. Some make use of nomina sacra, charakteres or other scribal features, others do not. Some undoubtedly came from Christian clergy and monks, others came from ritual specialists. In short, the writers of incantations were both receivers and generators of tradition. They would not have expected us to be pouring over their work so many centuries later, but here we are, thanks to the work of people like De Bruyn, and we come up with a vastly more complex and fascinating glimpse into history and how people lived because of this work.

Bibliography

De Bruyn, Theodore. Making Amulets Christian : Artefacts, Scribes, and Contexts. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017.

Meyer, Marvin, and Richard Smith. Ancient Christian Magic : Coptic Texts of Ritual Power. Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press, 1999.

“Teeth Will Be Provided”: An Amusing Forgery

(Credit to Rutgers-Brunsick)
In 1950, Paul R. Coleman-Norton, Latin Professor at Princeton University, published his article “An Amusing Agraphon”.1 He claimed to have found a manuscript fragment in 1943, at a mosque in Fédhala, during his time in the U.S. Army.2 He said that an Imam showed him a book of Arabic writings in the mosque’s library. Between its leaves was a single page of Greek, a portion the Opus imperfectum in Matthaeum, a collection of Matthean homilies. The page contained an agraphon (saying of Jesus) unparalleled in patristic literature.3 In it, Jesus refers to the “weeping and gnashing of teeth” by the unrighteous (Mt. 24.51). A disciple asks what will become of the toothless, to which Jesus replies, “if haply they will be lacking any, teeth will be provided.”4 Was this a genuine discovery, or was it something else? I will argue that this was a modern literary forgery, intended to prank other scholars and show how easily it was to fool them.

Coleman-Norton (pictured) was an Oxford-trained scholar, and was also well-versed in the Patristics.5 In the 1920’s, he researched the authenticity and textual transmission of Patristic literature, and in the 1930’s, taught a class in Latin Patristics.6 Thus, he was acquainted with the Opus imperfectum in Matthaeum, which was once attributed to John Chrysostom.7 But the text was known as a Latin work, not Greek. It was thus convenient that he found a Greek “translation,” as he says that the Latin version “neither preserves the last part of 24:51 nor comments on it.”8 It left out the “weeping and gnashing of teeth,” freeing him to create his forgery and find story. Given his proficiency in the Patristics and Greek, he also possessed the technical know-how to create the forgery.

If the agraphon was not preserved elsewhere, one would expect him to have photographed it for other scholars. However, he says that he was transferred from Fédhala and unable to make arrangements to have it photographed, and that a former colleague was also unable to take its picture.9 He laments the lack of a photo, as it would have helped experts date it and determine its provenance.10 This plays into his rhetoric of deceit, a way of distracting from the fact that it was actually a forgery. After returning to the U.S., he claimed to have set aside his transcribed copy for a few years until he was reminded of it by hearing Mt. 25 at church, which follows after 24.51. He decided to return his attention to the agraphon, and, just like the Greek fragment sandwiched between Arabic pages, found his copy tucked between military papers.11 That is, the copy of the misplaced fragment was itself a misplaced document, likely an intentional wink and nod to readers.

In the article, Coleman-Norton said the agraphon was either “an ancient wag,” authentic, or a “pious invention.”12 In reality, the entire article was a modern “wag,” though perhaps he viewed it as a “pious invention.” He did not need to produce a physical apparatus, as he was only writing an article about his “discovery.” The article itself serves as the vehicle for an embedded forgery. But what was his motive in crafting it? Christopher Rollston suggests it was not for economic reasons, but was meant as a joke, and perhaps originally intended “to embarrass a rival institution and program.”13 Coleman-Norton had tried to get it published in the Harvard Theological Review, but after its rejection there and elsewhere, it was accepted by Catholic Biblical Quarterly. Had he been successful with Harvard, he would have “arguably felt it to be a particularly pungent prank.”14

The joke is almost acknowledged in the article. Following a public reading of its contents, someone noted that the saying appeared word-for-word in a 1941 book of jokes, nine years before the article and two years before its alleged discovery.15 He says in a footnote, “my sole comment on this coincidence can be that here then we have another proof of the antiquity of the present and the modernity of the past.” This is deflection from the obvious hoax. He also discusses puns and humor, and jokingly calls the disciple-questioner dumb “in the Pennsylvania German sense.”16 All of this suggests that the article was given by him in jest and good humor. But the biggest blow to the agraphon was revealed by his own student, Bruce Metzger. In the 1930’s, Metzger attended his class on Latin Patristics. During the class, Coleman-Norton joked that dentures would be “provided in the next world so that all the damned might be able to weep and gnash their teeth.”17 Metzger thus called the alleged agraphon a modern forgery.18

One scholar, Justin E.H. Smith, argues that the forgery/hoax “counts as great scholarship,” as he would much rather read it than most other “real” articles published recently.19 If one objects that the article was dishonest and “bad practice for an academic,” Smith responds, “I don't care. Any academic who thinks hoaxing as such is unethical or nugatory is a dull and petty functionary, and evidently has no interest in participating, or reveling, in the ongoing life of ideas.”20 I would differ from Smith in that the whole affair does seem unethical. Had Coleman-Norton eventually confessed to his hoax, and admitted his motivations, perhaps his actions may be viewed better in hindsight. He lived until 1971, over 20 years after its publication, but never recanted.

Where I agree with Smith is in his assessment of the article’s draw. Coleman-Norton successfully combined an interesting "find story," a scholarly interpretation, brought in Greek and Latin considerations, and provided the entertainment of the hour. Perhaps he hoped his “pious invention” would be uncovered, and would inspire scholars not to take discoveries at face value. He may have been attempting to alert scholarship to how easily it could be fooled with his “pious invention,” but if so, why did not later reveal his hoax to show how forgeries could enter academia? Regardless, the lack of admission on his part was a deceptive act. As amusing as the forgery is, the “tooth” did not set him free. In a role reversal from the agraphon’s teacher/disciple, maybe he hoped a former “disciple” would be the one to provide the answer, and unmask his modern “wag.” Indeed, it took his student, Metzger, to come along and tell the world that “truth” would be provided.

Endnotes

[1] P.R. Coleman-Norton, “An Amusing Agraphon” (The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 12, no. 4, 1950), 439-49.
[2]
Ibid., 439.
[3]
Ibid., 441.; He added that there was no N.T. manuscript support either (442).
[4]
Ibid., 443.
[5]
Anthony Grafton, Forgers and Critics (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2019), 4-5.
[6]
Ibid., 5; Bruce M. Metzger, “Literary Forgeries and Canonical Pseudepigrapha,” in New Testament Studies: Philological, Versional, and Patristic (Leiden, 1980) 1.
[7]
Coleman-Norton 441; However, he notes that by his time the collection was considered anonymous.
[8]
Ibid., 442.
[9]
Ibid., 439.; This was due, he says, to restrictions placed on the area at that time, and when they were eventually lifted, his colleague found that the codex had been acquired by a British bibliophile, which provided a reason why other scholars could not go searching for this claimed agraphon (440).
[10]
Ibid., 440.
[11]
Ibid., 442.
[12]
Ibid, 444.
[13]
Christopher A. Rollston, “Forging History: From Antiquity to the Modern Period” in Archaeologies of Text : Archaeology, Technology and Ethics., ed. Rutz, Matthew., and Kersel, Morag M., Joukowsky Institute Publication ; 6 (Oxford: Oxbow Books, 2014), 187-188.
[14] 
Ibid.; He also tried the Journal of Biblical Literature and Chicago’s Journal of Religion, but none accepted it.
[15] Coleman-Norton,
“An Amusing Agraphon”, 444.; The book was Lewis Copeland's The World's Best Jokes (Garden City, N. Y., 1941), 221. There were earlier literary precedents as well (“Anecdotes”, Annie Besant, Our Corner V (1885): 120.; “Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree,” Everybody’s Magazine XXIV (Jan.-June 1911): 142.).
[16]
Ibid., 446.
[17]
Metzger, “Literary Forgeries and Canonical Pseudepigrapha,” 1-2.
[18]
Ibid.
[19] Justin E.H. Smith, “In Defense of Hoaxes”,
The Chronicle of Higher Education 65, no. 9 (2018): B17.
[20]
Ibid.; He adds, “I confess I am astounded… by the moralism and the piety toward rules and procedures that so many academics are expressing, as if hoaxing were always unethical and lacking in any potential salutary effects… They do not know about Paul R. Coleman-Norton's equally ingenious "An Amusing Agraphon,"…. [he] had produced a rigorous scholarly apparatus, had himself composed the agraphon and the relevant paratexts in Greek--had, in short, displayed his scholarly expertise.”

Bibliography

Annie Besant, “Anecdotes”, Our Corner V (1885): 120.

Anthony Grafton,
Forgers and Critics, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2019.

Bruce M. Metzger, “Literary Forgeries and Canonical Pseudepigrapha,” in
New Testament Studies: Philological, Versional, and Patristic, Leiden, 1980.

Christopher A. Rollston, “Forging History: From Antiquity to the Modern Period” in
Archaeologies of Text: Archaeology, Technology and Ethics, ed. Rutz, Matthew., and Kersel, Morag M., Joukowsky Institute Publication ; 6 (Oxford: Oxbow Books, 2014), 176-197.

Justin E.H. Smith, “In Defense of Hoaxes”,
The Chronicle of Higher Education 65, no. 9 (2018): B17.

P.R. Coleman-Norton, “An Amusing Agraphon”,
The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 12, no. 4 (1950): 439-49.

“Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree,”
Everybody’s Magazine XXIV (Jan.-June 1911): 142.