Before the holiday season kicked in, I began a new 5-part series exploring what the phenomenon of miniature codices teaches us about the early Christian movement. This series is designed to draw out some practical implications (for a lay audience) from my new book with Oxford University Press, Miniature Codices in Early Christianity.
Having already done installment #1 and #2, and #3, we now turn to the fourth thing that miniature codices tell us about the early Christian movement. These tiny books demonstrate that early Christians had a very high view of their scriptural books.
What Was the Early Church’s Doctrine of Scripture?
For generations, scholars have battled over exactly what early Christians believed about their scriptural books. What was the “doctrine of scripture” in the first few centuries of the church? What did Christians mean when they said these books were “inspired”? And what implications does that have for the authority of these books?
Such questions have generally been answered by appealing to places in the church fathers where they make a direct statement about the nature of Scripture. In other words, scholars have typically appealed to what patristic writers have said about their scriptural books.
While the express statements of church fathers is a reasonable place for such discussions to start, it has unfortunately become the place where such discussions have also ended. Such statements are typically the only kind of evidence that has been considered.
The phenomenon of the miniature codex, however, provides a fresh window into how early Christians viewed their scriptural books. Rather than considering just what church fathers say about their books, the miniature codex forces us to consider how the church fathers used their books. The function of these books can tell us as much (and sometimes even more) about their status as any express statement could do.
As mentioned in prior installments in this series, miniature codices had many practical functions in the early Christian movement. They facilitated private reading, were suitable for carrying on long journeys, and even aided private worship.
But books in the ancient world were not just practical items. Their value was not just in being read—they were also to be seen and touched. In many ways, this visual–symbolic dimension was just as powerful, or even more powerful, than the words contained therein.
The small size of the miniature codex made it particularly suitable as an object with this sort of visual-symbolic value. It could be worn on the body, hung around the neck, and put on display. Early Christians even slept with such codices in their beds at night.
Why would they use scriptural books in such a fashion? Let me mention three reasons.
Symbols of Christian Identity
First, the earliest Christians viewed scriptural books as symbols of Christian identity. To be a Christian was to value scriptural books. And to value scriptural books was to be a Christian. The two were inextricably connected. So, what better way to declare your Christian identity than to wear a scriptural book around your neck for all to see?
A good example of this phenomenon is an early deacon named Euplus. We are told that he was martyred in Catania in 304 under the Governor Calvisianus with the “book of the Gospels” hung around his neck. That is, he was wearing a miniature codex. That the book was a symbol of his identity as can be seen by Euplus’s confession: “I am Christian and I read the divine Scriptures.”
Presence of Christ
While Christian books would have been an important way to express one’s Christian identity, for many users they were more than that. Such books would have also represented the spiritual presence of Christ himself. In other words, these books were a way to connect with the divine.
Of course, a biblical codex did not have to be miniature to represent the presence of Christ. A Gospel codex was displayed on a centrally placed chair at the Council of Ephesus (c.431) as a powerful visual representation of the presence of Christ. So much so, in fact, that when Nestorius, according to one account, moved the Gospel codex to the floor so he could sit down, the Egyptian Shenoute reprimanded him, “Do you want the Son of God to sit on the ground, while you sit on the chair?”
Clearly, the book represented the very presence of Jesus—what’s done to one, is done to the other.
While full-size codices would have still represented the spiritual presence of Christ, miniaturized codices would have made that presence even more personal—the wearer could now carry Christ with them on their body, take him on journeys, feeling his presence as the book dangled around their neck or touched their skin.
Power of Christ
The miniature codex highlights a reality that we already knew, to some degree, from other sources, namely that Christians viewed their scriptural books as having some sort of divine power within them. In particular, some Christians viewed this power as sufficient to ward off attacks from the devil and to protect the owner/user from disease and illness.
While a scriptural book of any size might be thought to provide such protection, the miniature codex was deemed to be particularly effective at doing so. The small size of such books allowed this protection to be portable—a person could now be protected on a journey, or as they wandered around town, or even while they slept at night.
The small size also allowed the protection to be personal. The wearer could physically feel the codex around their neck, maybe touching their skin, a constant reminder that God’s word was with them, and would protect them.
While we might understandably have some scruples about such practices, arguing they seem somewhat “magical,” it was not viewed this way by most ancient Christians themselves. For them, it was an allowable (and preferable) method of protection because, in their eyes, it involved writings ordained by God.
Conclusion
So, what did the earliest Christians think about their scriptural books? What was their “doctrine of Scripture”? While we can make some headway by culling patristic statements, the phenomenon of the miniature codex shines a fresh light on these questions. It’s not just what Christians said about their books that mattered; it’s how they used their books.
And, as we have seen, the miniature codex shows us that Christians viewed their scriptural writings as so centrally connected to Christ himself, that to draw near to the Scriptures was to draw near to Christ. And to draw near to the Scriptures was to be protected by Christ.
Whatever else one might say about such a phenomenon, it’s hard to imagine a view of Scripture “higher” than that demonstrated by these early Christians.