By the Reverend Professor Andrew Linzey, Director of Oxford Centre for Animal Ethics.

The term ‘Apocryphal Bible’ requires some explanation. As is well known, the early Church selected the documents (gospels and letters) which it regarded as authoritative for the Christian community. These documents are now known as the New Testament, the ‘canon’ of Christian scripture. In this process, some books were left out or disregarded because they were thought to be inadequate doctrinally, or plainly ‘heretical.’ But a considerable quantity of material was regarded as more or less orthodox but less authoritative than others. ‘Apocryphal’ therefore does not necessarily mean unorthodox or unreliable; it simply means that, given the understanding of the time, they were thought to be less acceptable than others.

There is a voluminous amount of Christian literature that was not selected by the early Church but which is nonetheless interesting in providing insights into how Christians once thought and felt. What is especially fascinating is that a sizeable proportion of this material relates directly or indirectly to animals. Whilst there is an increasing amount of scholarly interest in this material, a great deal of it, sadly, has yet to be translated into English and is therefore largely inaccessible. I am therefore particularly indebted to the recent English translation provided by J. K. Elliott, The Apocryphal New Testament (Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1993, © OUP, 1993, and reproduced with permission). In what follows, I select ten segments of texts and offer a theological commentary on them:

1. Jesus’ healing of a mule (Coptic Fragment)
2. The vegetarianism of John the Baptist and Jesus (The Gospel of the Ebionites)
3. The catalepsy of all creation at Jesus’ birth (The Protoevangelium of James)
4. Jesus creates the sparrows (The Infancy Gospel of Thomas)
5. The birth of Jesus (The Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew)
6. Jesus — the harbinger of peace to the animal world (The Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew)
7. St. Paul's encounter with the lion (The Acts of Paul)
8. St. Thomas and the asses (The Acts of Thomas)
9. The conversion of the leopard (The Acts of Philip)
10. Animals accuse humans on the Day of Judgment (II Enoch, The Slavonic Apocalypse of Enoch)

1. Jesus’ Healing of a Mule (Coptic Fragment)

It happened that the Lord left the city and walked with his disciples over the mountains. And they came to a mountain, and the road which led up it was steep. There they found a man with a pack-mule. But the animal had fallen, because the man had loaded it too heavily, and now he beat it, so that it was bleeding. And Jesus came to him and said, ‘Man, why do you beat your animal? Do you not see that it is too weak for its burden, and do you not know that it suffers pains?’ But the man answered and said, ‘What is that to you? I may beat it as much as I please, since it is my property, and I bought it for a good sum of money. Ask those who are with you, for they know me and they know about this.’ And some of the disciples said, ‘Yes, Lord, it is as he says. We have seen how he bought it.’ But the Lord said, ‘Do you then not see how it bleeds, and do you not hear how it groans and cries out?’ But they answered and said, ‘No, Lord, that it groans and cries out, we do not hear.’ But Jesus was sad and exclaimed, ‘Woe to you, that you do not hear how it complains to the Creator in heaven and cries out for mercy. But threefold woes to about whom it cries out and complains in its pain.’ And he came up and touched the animal. And it stood up and its wounds were healed. But Jesus said to the man, ‘Now carry on and from now on do not beat it any more, so that you too may find mercy.’

Precisely how old this story is, or its exact source, is difficult to determine. The above translation is by Richard Bauckham of a version in an earlier collection of Coptic texts first translated into German by J. Boehmer in 1903 who simply lists it under the heading ‘Coptic Bible.’1 According to Roderick Dunkerley who translated the text in 1957, it is entirely in keeping ‘with the Spirit of the Gospels’ and ‘since kindness to animals was an aspect of Christian charity which the Early Church largely ignored' this may account for ‘such an incident falling out of notice.’2

Bauckham maintains that the story presupposes the Jewish legal tradition concerning the injunction to relieve an animal fallen under its burden (Exodus 23.4; Deuteronomy 22.4), ‘so the story may go back to a Jewish-Christian source in which Jesus’ teaching that love is the overriding principle in interpreting the law was extended, as it is not explicitly in the canonical Gospels, to concern for animals as well as people.’3 We cannot disregard the possibility that the text itself contains genuine historical reminiscence and therefore relates to an actual event in the life of Jesus. It needs to be remembered that even later texts may contain elements of much earlier material, so that even texts dating from the fourth or fifth centuries may be more trustworthy than might be supposed.

What is significant is that this fragment, preserved in Coptic, illustrates that some early Christians saw Jesus’ ethic as extending to the care of suffering animals. The animal concerned cries out to its Creator for mercy — suggesting that the animal also has its own relationship with God who hears its cries. But it is the failure of human beings to respond compassionately to the cries of the creature that most invites Jesus’ consternation and rebuke. Indeed, there is something contemporary, even prophetic, in Jesus’ rebuke to those around him who apparently fail to hear the cries of the suffering animal. The uncomprehending response, ‘No, Lord, that it [the mule] groans and cries out, we do not hear,’ earns a ‘threefold woe’ that those who should hear apparently do not. As Bauckham points out, Jesus’ attitude exemplifies the 'general principle that “the measure you give will be the measure you get” (Matthew 7.2; Luke 6.38), as well as the thought of the beatitude: “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy” (Matthew 5.7).’4

The text, therefore, unambiguously invites us to picture Jesus as compassionate to animals, even as a healer of their suffering. Perhaps Dunkerley is right; that thought was deemed so radical that it helps explain why the text was jettisoned at an early stage. Nevertheless, the message so coheres with other aspects of the teaching and ministry of Jesus that it is difficult to deny its prima facie authenticity. One cannot help wondering whether there are other, yet to be translated, texts (Coptic and others) similarly buried away in libraries that support this more inclusive view of Jesus' ministry.

2. The vegetarianism of John the Baptist and Jesus (The Gospel of the Ebionites)

We only know directly of this Gospel (now known by the modern name of the Gospel of the Ebionites) from the account given of it by Epiphanius, the fourth-century Bishop of Salamis, in his principal work Panarion which lists and condemns various heresies. The Ebionites were, it seems, a Jewish-Christian sect whose written Gospel was regarded by Epiphanius as a distortion of the Aramaic Gospel of Matthew. His attack apparently refers to some of the actual lines in their Gospel:

(i) And it came to pass when John was baptized, that the Pharisees came to him and were baptized, and all Jerusalem also. He had a garment of camel’s hair, and a leathern girdle about his loins. And his meat was wild honey, which tasted like manna, formed like cakes of oil.

(ii) They say [the Ebionites] that he [Jesus] is not begotten by the Father but created like one of the archangels, being greater than they. He rules over the angels and the beings created by God and he came and declared, as the gospel used by them records: ‘I have come to abolish the sacrifices: if you do not cease from sacrificing, the wrath [of God] will not cease from weighing upon you.’

(iii) Those who reject meat have inconsiderably fallen into error and said, ‘I have no desire to eat the flesh of this Pascal Lamb with you.’ They leave the true order of the words and distort the word which is clear to all from the connection of the words and make the disciples say: ‘Where do you want us to prepare for you to eat the Passover?’ To which he [Jesus] replied, ‘I have no desire to eat the flesh of the Paschal Lamb with you.’5

Sadly, since we know so little, we have no objective standard by which to judge whether Epiphanius was even quoting the Gospel correctly. We do not know whether Epiphanius’s attack was principally derived from the Ebionites's apparent rejection of the Virgin Birth of Jesus or even whether, in this respect, his account is entirely accurate. (Many of the early polemics against those deemed to be heretical were not, it must be said, either entirely accurate or charitable). It seems clear that the Ebionites were a community of Jewish Christians who apparently held that John the Baptist was a vegetarian, hence the account (i above) deletes any reference to locusts, and that Jesus opposed animal sacrifices (ii above), and was also a vegetarian — by implication through his rejection of a flesh-based Passover meal. According to J. K. Elliott, the Gospel originated in the first half of the second century and the Ebionite community was based in the Transjordan where Epiphanius was also known to work,6 but of course the Gospel could be much earlier than the recorded reference to it. By Epiphanius's attack sometime in the fourth century we may assume that an Ebionite community had existed for some considerable time.

The revealing thing is that this reference does appear to show that there was an early community of Jewish Christians who were vegetarians, and who, most importantly of all, claimed as their authority the ascetic practise of John the Baptist and Jesus himself. Much more than that, it is difficult to know precisely. Some, like Keith Akers, have argued that this original community of Jewish Christians faithfully recorded the witness of Jesus to a non-violent way of life (inclusive of animals) marked by a special concern for the poor (hence their name, Ebionite derived from the Hebrew term EBIONIM meaning "the poor" Christians).7 Without going down the route of a conspiracy theory that holds that the mainstream of the early church suppressed Jesus’ original message, it is worth reflecting on the simple known fact that there were theologically inspired Christian vegetarians at a very early point in the Church’s life.

In fact, we know that they existed right from the beginning because St. Paul also attacks them in his letter to the Roman Church. He writes, ‘As for the man who is weak in faith, welcome him, but not for disputes over opinions. One believes he may eat anything, while the weak man eats only vegetables’ (Romans 14.1-2). The apparent cause of the disagreement concerned the propriety of eating meat offered in sacrifices to idols, but although the controversy took this precise form it is possible that it hid a deeper disagreement about the propriety of eating meat in the first place.

Given that there were Christian vegetarians who apparently appealed to Jesus himself as their authority, the question arises as to the nature of their vegetarianism and how it was understood. Was it simply a cultic, ascetical rejection or was it based on some rejection of the morality of killing animals for food? It is unclear, for example, whether the references in the tradition to the vegetarianism of James, the brother of Jesus, is due to ascetical or moral objections, or a combination of both. But one recent scholar, Robert Eisenman, in an exhaustive study, relates the issue back to the Noahic covenant, which suggests that James adopted a form of theologically inspired vegetarianism, which had an ethical dimension.8

The debate is still open and it is unwise to be dogmatic. It is possible that early Jewish-Christian groups have faithfully preserved Jesus’ example of vegetarianism and his objection to animal sacrifices, and that it is the tradition, which the Ebionites represent in their Gospel. As we have seen (Section 2 on Animals in tthe Bible) there are good grounds from within the canonical Gospels for thinking that Jesus disassociated himself from the prevailing practice of animal sacrifice, but whether this rejection also extended to the avoidance of all flesh foods (as apparently his brother James practised) is not clear. According to the canonical Gospels, Jesus certainly ate fish, but there are no precise accounts of him eating meat, though the latter, of course, depends largely upon one’s view of the Passover meal which, interestingly, is one of the points of issue in the Gospel of the Ebionites.

3. The catalepsy of all creation at Jesus' birth (The Protoevangelium of James)

According to this account, Joseph finds a cave (not a stable) for Mary to rest and goes in search of a midwife for his heavily pregnant wife. He recounts that as he was walking a strange event took place:

Now I, Joseph, was walking, and yet I did not walk. And I looked up into the air and saw the air in amazement. And I looked up at the vault of heaven, and saw it standing still and the birds of heaven motionless. And I looked down at the earth, and saw a dish placed there and workmen reclining, and their hands were in the dish. But those who chewed did not chew, and those who lifted up did not lift, and those who put something to their mouth put nothing to their mouth, but everyone looked upwards. And behold, sheep were being driven and they did not come forward but stod still; and the shepherd raised his hands to strike them with his staff but his hand remained upright. And I looked at the flow of the river, and saw the mouths of kids over it and they did not drink. And then suddenly everything went on its course.9

At first sight the meaning of this strange experience might appear rather opaque; that is, until one appreciates that the author is seeking to describe how the birth of Jesus affects the entire created order. The truth revealed in this poetic way is that the event of this one birth has cosmic significance — for everything that lives. The earth stands still, as it were, to greet its redeemer in human form. Of course, nature miracles are not unknown in the New Testament and this event has obvious parallels with the reported earthquake and eclipse at the time of Jesus' crucifixion — for example in Matthew where Jesus’ death is attended by strange events including the shaking of the earth and the opening of tombs (Matthew 27.51-3).

According to Elliott, the Protoevangelium is one of the most influential of the apocryphal Gospels and dates from about the second half of the second century — though, here again, it is possible that it is considerably earlier, or at least contains an earlier strata of material.10 The interest in creation is typical of much apocryphal material and is lyrically expressed in the Song of Anna (Mary’s mother) who compares her barrenness to the created fruitfulness of the earth, and especially the other creatures:

‘Woe is me, to what am I likened?
I am not likened to the birds of heaven;
For even the birds of heaven are fruitful before you, O Lord.
Woe is me, to what am I likened?
I am not likened to the beasts of the earth,
For even the beasts of the earth are fruitful before you, O Lord…
I am not likened to this earth;
For even this earth brings forth its fruit in its season and praises you, O Lord.’11

The song celebrates fecundity as God’s gift to all living creatures, and contrasts her own position with the more perfect fulfilment of God's purpose in non-human creatures. Since fertility and fruitfulness were associated with righteousness (see Psalm 1.1-6), the implication is that non-human creatures reflect God's will and receive God's blessing in a way in which she cannot. The Song itself is prefaced by Anna's observation of ‘a nest of sparrows’12 and concludes by emphasising the praise of the creatures for their Creator. It is a beautifully ‘earthy’ song entirely appropriate for a Gospel whose infancy narratives speak of the mystery of God made flesh.

4. Jesus creates the sparrows (The Infancy Gospel of Thomas)

When this boy Jesus was five years old he was playing at the crossing of a stream, and he gathered together into pools the running water, and instantly made it clean, and gave his command with a single word. Having made soft clay he moulded from it twelve sparrows. And it was the sabbath when he did these things. And there were also many other children playing with him. When a certain Jew saw what Jesus was doing while playing on the Sabbath, he at once went and told his father Joseph, ‘See, your child is at the stream, and he took clay and moulded twelve birds and has profaned the Sabbath.’ And when Joseph came to the place and looked, he cried out to him, saying, ‘Why do you do on the Sabbath things which it is not lawful to do?’ But Jesus clapped his hands and cried out to the sparrows and said to them, ‘Be gone!’ And the sparrows took flight and went away chirping. The Jews were amazed when they saw this, and went away and told their leaders what they had seen Jesus do.13

It is possible that the Infancy Gospel of Thomas fills some gaps in the childhood of Jesus up to twelve years old. Again, dating is imprecise but sometime around the fifth century appears likely. Elliott argues that the ‘theological teaching of these stories in minimal' and that the 'main thrust of the episodes is to stress in a crudely sensational way the miraculous powers of Jesus.’14 But these incidents do convey a closeness with, even fellow feeling for, animals that is not found in the canonical gospels.

For example, in the passage above, Jesus is depicted as the miraculous creator of sparrows which he makes out of clay in apparent contravention of Jewish law that forbade work on the Sabbath. Here the story resonates with two other incidents found in the canonical Gospels. The first concerns the saying of Jesus that even sparrows (strouthia in Greek — ‘little birds’) are not forgotten by God (Luke 12. 6-7), and the second concerns the principle enumerated by Jesus that it is 'lawful to do good on the sabbath’ which by implication includes extending compassion to an animal fallen into a pit (see Matthew 12. 10-12).

When linked with the story in the Infancy Gospel of Thomas, a line of interpretation emerges: God is the Creator of all life and Jesus is God's agent in creation — ‘begotten even before the creation of the world’ as the Gospel of Thomas subsequently makes clear (para 7.1). Since the Creator delights in the creation of other beings so Jesusv youthful activity imitates his Father’s own creative work. This divine work of creation continues every day (even on the sabbath) and takes precedence over any interpretation of religious laws of the time. Jesus' creation of sparrows not only reinforces his special relationship with the Creator and Father of all, but also demonstrates his closeness (as specific Creator) with the ‘little birds,’ which, like all beings, are created from the dust (or clay) of the earth. Indeed, the parallel with Genesis 2.7 is unmistakable: as God the Father creates man from the dust of the earth and breathes life into him, so Jesus (in this story) creates the sparrows from the dust and breathes on them likewise.

Elliott says that ‘the infancy stories represent the encapsulating in writing at various points in history of a developing cycle of oral tradition.’15 Whether this story stretches back in time to the actual life of Jesus is debateable and probably unprovable, but what is significant is that Jesus’ interest in the life of other creatures is a consistent motif in the childhood stories about him. In the same Gospel, other incidents reinforce this view. Jesus is reported to have healed his brother James of a viper’s bite, to have breathed on a dead fish to bring it back to life, and, in a playful mood, causes twelve sparrows to interfere with the instruction of his teacher.16

6. Jesus — the harbinger of peace to the animal world (The Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew)

Other animals, lions and panthers, apparently accompany the Holy Family into the desert 'showing them the way and bowing their heads' and indicating ‘their submission by wagging their tails’ and worshipping Jesus ‘with great reverence’:

Now at first, when Mary saw the lions and the panthers and various kinds of wild beasts surrounding them, she was very much afraid. But the infant Jesus looked into her face with joyful countenance and said, ‘Be not afraid, mother, for they come not to do you harm, but they make haste to serve both you and me.’ With these words he drove all fear from her heart. And the lions kept walking with them, and with the oxen and the asses and the beasts of burden, which carried what they needed, and did not hurt a single one of them, though they remained with them; they were tame among the sheep and the rams which they had brought with them from Judea and which they had with them. They walked among wolves and feared nothing; and not one of them was hurt by another. Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by the prophet, 'Wolves shall feed with lambs; lion and ox shall eat straw together.’20

The last reference to Isaiah 65.25 when God shall renew the earth and establish peace between all creatures (as in Isaiah 11.1-9) makes explicit the messianic theme of peaceful co-existence in Jesus’ period in the wilderness with the wild beasts in Mark 1.13. It is remarkable how the belief that the Messiah will bring peace to creation persisted and was perpetuated throughout years of Christian story-telling. Whether the events described in this story took place is rather beside the point; the point is that as Christians reflected upon the life and work of Jesus they became convinced that his work would issue in peace for all creation in fulfilment of the prophecies in Isaiah. Notice how both fear and violence are overcome in the story — all rather astonishing when it is appreciated that, in context, human beings lived with the real threat of being attacked by wild predators. Jesus’ influence creates a life of harmonious, non-violent, co-existence in which the wild animals — far from threatening or harming humans — are liberated into a new level of peaceableness both with their human neighbours and with fellow species.

Also worth attention is the apparent statement of Jesus in the previous passage that, ‘I am and always have been perfect; and all the beasts of the forest must needs be docile before me.’ At first sight there appears to be no obvious connection between these ideas, namely, of perfection and friendliness. It is only in the context of messianic prophecy that such a linkage makes sense. It is because Jesus is ‘perfect,’ that is, the Messiah sent by God to renew the earth, that he is recognised even, and especially, by the wild beasts. They recognise his authority as one, unlike others, who comes with genuine benevolence to heal the earth and usher in the peaceable kingdom. This idea is further exemplified in the subsequent story of Jesus, aged only eight years, and his encounter with the lions. It deserves to be read in full:

And there was beside the road, near the bank of Jordan, a cave where the lioness was nursing her whelps; and no one was safe to walk that way. Jesus, coming from Jericho, and knowing that in that cave the lioness had brought forth her young, went into it in the sight of all. And when the lions saw Jesus, they ran to meet him and worshipped him. And Jesus was sitting in the cavern and the lion’s whelps ran around his feet, fawning and playing with him. And the older lions, with their heads bowed, stood at a distance and worshipped him and fawned upon him with their tails. Then the people who were standing afar off and who did not see Jesus, said, ‘Unless he or his parents had committed grievous sins, he would not of his own accord have exposed himself to the lions.’ And when the people were reflecting within themselves and were overcome with great sorrow, behold, suddenly in the sight of the people Jesus came out of the cave and the lions went before him, and the lion's whelps played with each other before his feet. And the parents of Jesus stood afar off with their heads bowed and watched; likewise also the people stood at a distance on account of the lions, for they did not dare come close to them. Then Jesus began to say to the people, ‘How much better are the beasts than you, seeing that they recognize their Lord and glorify him; while you men, who have been made in the image and likeness of God, do not know him! Beasts know me and are tame; men see me and do not acknowledge me.’ After these things Jesus crossed the Jordan in the sight of them all with the lions; and the water of the Jordan was divided on the right hand and on the left. Then he said to the lions so that all could hear, ‘Go in peace and hurt no one; neither let man injure you, until you return to the place where you have come from.’ And they, bidding him farewell, not only with their voices but with their gestures, went to their own place. But Jesus returned to his mother.21

The superiority of the animals (in recognising Jesus and worshipping him) in contrast to humans is a exceptional idea given the contexts in which these stories circulated; after all, it was the common view throughout all centuries of Christian thought that humans are superior to animals because they are made in the image of God. Yet, here we have a story of Jesus, which circulated for decades, if not centuries, within the community of Christian believers that expresses the idea that animals have a spiritual capacity that supersedes humanity.

One possible source for this view may derive from the realisation that while human beings are sinful, animals cannot sin since they are not moral agents. According to Christian theology, humans alone are morally responsible because they have free will whereas animals have no such freedom. But the logical conclusion of this train of thought is that since animals cannot sin, they must be closer to the state of natural blessedness that God intended. Since their lives have not been disfigured by sin, they still possess an original innocence in a way that humans do not.

Such a view naturally coheres with the idea that the person of Jesus brings peace to the animal world. Jesus’ injunction is clear: ‘Go in peace and hurt no one; neither let any man injure you …’ The significance of the story consists not just in Jesus’ filial relationships with animals, but specifically in how Jesus’ presence realises in time that original vision of peaceful co-existence which God willed from the beginning. Because of their sinlessness, animals are able to prefigure, and respond to, the presence of Jesus, which joyfully returns creation to its original state of paradisal innocence. The theology behind this story then is truly biblical and orthodox, even though it may be the work of embellishment and imagination. The writer makes explicit those themes of kinship and peacefulness, which are only implicit in the canonical Gospels. And the telling thing is that the popularity of this Gospel kept alive a more inclusive, animal-friendly vision of peaceableness and redemption at a time when the very notion that there could be friendship with animals was being derided by, for example, scholastic theologians like St. Thomas Aquinas. As I suggest elsewhere,22 the lives of saints and St. Francis of Assisi in particular, represent an alternative tradition to that of scholastic theologians.

7. St. Paul's encounter with the lion (The Acts of Paul)

The Acts describe how St. Paul has been ordered to be thrown to the lion by Hieronymus, and the two are placed against each other in the arena.

But the lion looked at Paul, and Paul at the lion. Then Paul recognized that this was the lion which had come and been baptized. And borne along by faith Paul said, ‘Lion, was it you whom I baptized?' And the lion in answer said to Paul, ‘Yes.’ Paul spoke to it again and said, ‘And how were you captured?’ The lion said with its own voice, 'Just as you were, Paul.’ After Hieronymous had sent many beasts so that Paul might be slain, and archers that the lion too might be killed, a violent and exceedingly heavy hail-storm fell from heaven, although the sky was clear: many died and all the rest took to flight. But it did not touch Paul or the lion although the other beasts perished under the weight of the hail, which was so heavy that Hieronymus’ ear was hit and torn off, and the people cried out as they fled, ‘Save us, O God, of the man who fought with the beasts!’ And Paul took leave of the lion, which spoke no more, and went out of the stadium and down to the harbour and embarked on the ship that was sailing for Macedonia, for there were many who were sailing as if the city were about to perish. So he embarked too like one of the fugitives, but the lion went away into the mountains as was natural for it.23

Some versions of the Acts were apparently known by the end of the second century and, according to Elliott, Hippolytus in his commentary on Daniel (written about 204) regards the story of Paul and the lion as 'orthodox.’24 The figure of St. Thecla (St. Paul’s companion mentioned in the Acts) acquired cultic status in both the East and West — itself a sign of the popularity and influence of the work over many centuries.

From the standpoint of animal theology, there are three important aspects to this story. The first, and most obvious, concerns the peaceable kingdom motif in which humans and animals live together in harmony free from the usual violence and conflict that has marked the history of human-animal interactions. Indeed, the story offers us a parable of animal liberation: both Paul and the lion are made captive by those intent on violence and only by a miraculous act of God are both set free. Paul escapes to another country and the lion to his natural habitat. There is kinship, even friendship, between Paul and the lion — a glimpse of the messianic age of non-violence for which Christians hope.

The second concerns the ability of the lion to acquire human speech. The canonical authority for this possibility was already established in the Book of Numbers 22:21-33 where Balaam’s ass is so gifted by an angel of the Lord. Yet its significance might appear rather opaque. What does it mean that animals can speak (at least in ways that humans can understand)? To answer this question we need to remind ourselves of the view which prevailed in antiquity and which influenced Christian thinking for many decades, namely, that the essential difference between humans and animals consisted in the rationality of the former. And the outward sign of such rationality was the capacity of human beings to speak and create language. Animals were thus judged to be inferior to, even defective in contrast to, humans because of their lack of rationality.25 St. Augustine speaks of the ‘defects’ of animals though by the same token argues that they should not be 'deserving' of condemnation solely for that reason since God made them as they are.26 Allied to this was the view also found in antiquity that the status of animals was somehow detrimentally affected by the fall of humans, so that, as originally created, animals enjoyed a higher spiritual life than they do today. When these ideas are combined, it becomes clear that in acquiring human speech animals are, as it were, raised above their current existence and restored to the original state that God intended. Speaking animals are those creatures which have been restored by God to that state of existence prior to humanity's fall from grace.

The third, and most striking of all, is the reference to Paul baptizing the lion. Given the barrier of rationality that was thought to separate humans from animals, the very idea of animals participating in Christian sacraments would have been regarded as absurd, even offensive. And yet here it is in one of the earliest apocryphal documents, a story even regarded by Hippolytus as 'orthodox.’ How can we explain it? The answer, again, is most likely to be located in the new God-given status of the lion as a rational, talking being. In THAT context, even the ministration of Christian sacraments seemed appropriate — or so it did to the author of the Acts. Still, we cannot but marvel at the apparent flexibility of the historic barriers that Christian thought has erected being dispensed with so easily in relation to the animal world. Here we have portrayed a rational, talking, even believing (the lion also prays) animal who is baptised a fellow member of the Body of Christ by no less a person than St. Paul. A boundary is being crossed here, and it is astonishing that it appears in a popular work of Christian literature.27 The point is not whether such a thing is true, but rather that it was thought, by some, to be true, or at least thought to be conceivable.

8. Thomas and the asses (The Acts of Thomas)

Whilst the apostle was still standing in the road speaking to the multitude, a colt of an ass came up to him and, opening its mouth, said, ‘Twin brother of Christ, apostle of the Most High… because you came to erring men, and through your appearance and your divine words they now turn to the God of truth who sent you — mount, sit on me, and rest, until you come to the city.’ And the apostle answered, ‘O Jesus Christ, Son of the perfect mercy, O rest and calmness, and you of whom even the unreasoning animals speak … Who are you, and to whom do you belong? For surprising and strange is that which was spoken by you. These things that are also hidden from many.' And the colt answered and said, ‘I am of that family which served Balaam, and to which also belonged that colt on which sat your Lord and your Master. And now I have been sent to give you rest as you sit upon me …’28

It seems likely that the original date of the Acts of Thomas is sometime in the third century, probably in Edessa, and if true, then it is ‘the oldest non-Biblical monument of the Syrian Church’s literature.’29 From our perspective what is interesting is how it reinforces those insights already discussed in relation to the Acts of Paul. The colt speaks to the apostle and recognises him and his apostolic work as few humans have done. When asked where he comes from, the colt claims a spiritual ancestry — he is not only a descendent of Balaam's ass, but also of the very ass that carried Jesus into Jerusalem. The colt is a pre-eminent example of a servant, or rather co-servant, of God, who seeks out God's apostle to give him rest, and to lead him where he needs to go. With his work apparently completed, the colt mysteriously dies near the gates of the city.

Also of interest is the further story in which Thomas calls upon the wild asses to take the place of the weary animals that have pulled his wagon out of the city. They, too, prove to be joyful and obliging servants, and Thomas even sends them as messengers and to help exorcise the demons. When their work is done, St. Thomas charges them to ‘Go in peace to your pastures!’ And 'the wild assess went away willingly, the apostle standing and seeing to it that no harm was done to them by anyone, till they were far off and out of sight.’30

9. The conversion of the leopard (The Acts of Philip)

So they all [Philip, Bartholomew and Mariamne] set out for the land of Ophiani; and when they came to the wilderness of dragons, behold a great leopard came out of a wood on the hill, and ran and cast himself at their feet and spoke with a human voice, 'I worship you, servants of the divine greatness and apostles of the only-begotten Son of God; command me to speak perfectly.' And Philip said, 'In the name of Jesus Christ, speak.' And the leopard adopted perfect speech and said, 'Hear me Philip, groomsman of the divine word. Last night I passed through the flocks of goats near the mount of the she-dragon, the mother of snakes, and seized a kid; and when I went into the wood to eat, after I had wounded it, it took a human voice and wept like a little child, saying to me, "O leopard, put off your fierce heart and the beast like part of your nature, and put on mildness, for the apostles of the divine greatness are about to pass through the desert, to accomplish perfectly the promise of the glory of the only-begotten Son of God." At these words of the kid I was perplexed, and gradually my heart was changed, and my fierceness turned to mildness, and I did not eat it. And as I listened to its words I lifted up my eyes and saw you coming, and knew that you were the servants of the good God. So I left the kid and came to worship you. And now I beseech you to give me liberty to go with you everywhere and put off my beast-like nature.'

And Philip said, 'Where is the kid?' And he said, 'It is cast down under the oak opposite.' Philip said to Bartholomew, 'Let us go and see him that was smitten, healed, and healing the smiter.' And at Philip's bidding the leopard guided them to where the kid lay. Philip and Bartholomew said, 'Now know we of a truth that surpasses your compassion, O Jesus, lover of man; for you protect us and convince us by these creatures, that they may forsake their nature of beast and cattle and come to tameness, and no longer at flesh, nor the kid the food of cattle; but that men's hearts may be given them, and they may follow us wherever we go, and eat what we eat, to your glory, and speak after the manner of men, glorifying your name.'

And in that hour the leopard and the kid rose up and lifted their fore-feet and said, 'We glorify and bless you who have visited and remembered us in this desert, and changed our beast-like and wild nature into tameness, and granted us the divine word, and put in us a tongue and a sense to speak, and praise your name, for great is your glory.' And they fell and worshipped Philip and Bartholomew and Mariamne, and all set out together, praising God.31

The Acts of Philip is dated around the fourth or fifth centuries. M. R. James who was one of the first to translate it into English describes the work as 'edifying fiction.’32 Elliott judges that all the apocryphal Acts (of Bartholomew, Barnabas and Xanthippe — for example) are 'depositories of legend and art' and as such have 'considerable interest,’ but that — from a theological point of view — they are 'of little significance.’33

I find it strange that such a claim should be made because, whilst not denying the imaginative element present in the Acts (as, arguably, it is present in all scripture), there is clearly a theology of the peaceful creation in the above story which deserves to be wrestled with. The striking fact is that the story presupposes that Christ will bring about, or rather restore, creatures to a state of vegetarianism as originally decreed in Genesis 1:29-30. Specifically the creatures 'forsake their nature' and the leopard 'no longer eat[s] flesh, nor the kid the food of cattle.’ The creatures are granted human speech, they praise their creator, and are returned to a state of 'tameness,’ that is, non-aggression and non-violence, which God wills for them. And all this is done in the name of Jesus and his compassion. In other words, the apostles by specific command actualise the truth of Jesus who explicitly requires an inclusive ministry extending to fierce and aggressive creatures. The original vegetarianism not only of human beings but also of all creatures, as envisaged in Genesis 1, is the underlying motif here. As such this story, far from being of 'little' theological significance, can be seen as an imaginative attempt to convey and perpetuate the biblical truth that God originally willed a non-violent, specifically vegetarian, existence for all creatures on earth.

I have discussed elsewhere,34 the implications of this story for the theology of 'falleness' and I shall only summarise them here. Briefly stated, the point is that 'nature' as we now experience it is not the original creation as God made it. Quite how the once good creation that God made has become what it is — is a difficult theological problem. But the significance of this story (and others in the canonical and apocryphal writings) is that creation, or rather nature, is as yet unfinished or un-restored: we cannot take the world of nature as it is as a moral textbook. The Gospel of Jesus Christ has implications for the entire created order, and the inclusive generosity we see glimpsed in the life of Jesus compels us to conceive of another world — a genuinely, peaceful, vegetarian world — that is yet to come. In Book 12, the leopard and the kid even ask for communion, a truly astonishing idea given the traditional animal-human boundary within Christian theology.35

Again, even allowing for the imaginative elements within the story, the envisaging of this other world is wholly consonant with normative biblical hopes, indeed is, in all likelihood, inspired by them. And this recognition must make us wonder whether doctrine has left to one side an important aspect of its articulation of the nature of Christian hope for creation. Indeed, the comments by exegetes so far suggest that this aspect has seldom even been considered.

10. Animals accuse humans on the Day of Judgment (II Enoch, The Slavonic Apocalypse of Enoch)

Listen, [to me] [my] children [today]! In the days of our father Adam, the Lord came down onto the earth [on account of Adam]. And he inspected all his creatures which he himself had created in the beginning of the thousand ages and when after all those he had created Adam.

And the Lord summoned all the animals of the earth and all the reptiles of the earth and all the birds that fly in the air, and he brought them all before the face of our father Adam, so that he might pronounce the names for all the quadrupeds; and [Adam] named everything that lives on the earth.

And the Lord appointed him over everything [as king] and he subjected everything to him in subservience under his hand, both the dumb and the deaf, to be commanded and for submission and every servitude. So also to every human being. The Lord created mankind to be the lord of all his possessions. And the Lord will not judge a single animal soul for the sake of man; but human souls he will judge for the sake of the souls of their animals. In the great age there is a special place for human beings. And just as every human soul is according to number, so also it is with animal souls. And not a single soul which the Lord has created will perish until the great judgment. And every kind of animal soul will accuse the human beings who have fed them badly.

He who acts lawlessly with the soul of an animal acts lawlessly with his own soul. For the person brings one of the clean animals to make a sacrifice on account of sin, so that he may have healing for his soul. If he brings it to the sacrifice from clean animals and birds [and cereals], then there is healing for that person, and he will heal his soul. Everything that has been given to you for food, bind by four legs, so as to perform the healing properly. And there is healing and he will heal his soul. [And] he who puts to death any kind of animal without bonds [puts his own soul to death] and acts lawlessly with his own flesh. [And] he who does any kind of harm whatsoever to any kind of animal in secret, it is an evil custom, and he acts lawlessly with his own soul.36

This text, unlike the others, comes from the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, that unusual collection of apocalyptic literature and testaments that spans the period between the Old and New Testaments. The material reputedly contains the solemn last words of notable figures who give guidance and instruction on the ways of righteousness. The second book of Enoch was probably, but not certainly, composed sometime during the late first century AD.

The ethical injunctions in the above extract combine both a traditional rendering of Jewish thought together with some unusual twists in the direction of the humane treatment of animals. The story begins with God's own presence as Adam names the animals, and the traditional subjugation of all life to Adam himself. Humans are to be the 'lord' of God's possessions. But then comes the statement that God will not judge a single animal 'for the sake of man' but will judge human souls 'For the sake of the soul of their animals.' In other words, animals will not be held morally accountable for what they do to humans, but humans will be expressly accountable for what they do to animals. This diverges from some Jewish and medieval Christian beliefs which held that at least some animals were accountable for their actions towards humans (see Genesis 9.5 and Exodus 21.28). And then comes the remarkable statement that animal souls will be saved until the last judgment when they will be called upon to 'accuse the human beings who have fed them badly.'

By acting 'lawlessly' with animals, a human being jeopardises his or her own soul. An illustration is then given which at first might appear paradoxical. An individual may obtain healing by sacrificing an animal but only if this is done in the prescribed manner and the legs of the animal are properly bound. The purpose of such binding was to ensure that the animal did not struggle and did not therefore suffer unnecessarily. Unless the sacrifice is performed in a way that causes no unnecessary suffering, the sacrifice cannot be thought to constitute an act of proper 'healing'. The injunction is also widened to apply to any kind of harm done to an animal 'in secret' which is expressly condemned as 'evil' and perilous to the soul of the human concerned.

Although the acceptance of animal sacrifice will appear less than morally wholesome, it needs to be remembered that in context such sacrifice (at least before the destruction of the temple in AD 70) was standard Jewish practice. What is striking is how Enoch only appears to regard this practice as morally and theologically licit only if the animals are not made to suffer unnecessarily. So, according to Enoch, failure to treat animals properly, to feed them badly, to sacrifice them cruelly, or inflict any kind of harm on them 'in secret' are actions that are so wicked that they involve the penalty of loosing one's own soul. Exactly what actions performed 'in secret' are envisaged here is not entirely clear — perhaps acts of cruelty, or neglect, or beating, or even bestiality, but whatever precise activity was envisaged — the overall message is clear: no 'harming' is allowable.

Enoch then offers us a remarkable vision of how inhumane acts towards animals imperil our spiritual status. Even while sacrifice is allowed, it must be performed within strict moral limits. And significantly, there are no other exceptions allowed. Neither hunting nor making animals captive, nor any other harming activity is explicitly endorsed. Most significant of all, is the concept of animals accusing humans at the Last Judgment, an idea which is without parallel in either the Old or New Testaments. Perhaps it is best understood in relation to the third sentence in the first paragraph (above) which speaks of the Lord "inspecting all his creatures" which suggests that since they are God's own possessions (a point made expressly clear in a subsequent line) humans should treat them with special care, and will therefore be held especially accountable for them.

F.I. Andersen in his commentary welcomes the 'general and humane' ethics of II Enoch, but also comments:

The traditional form of beatitude as a medium of moral exhortation is extensively used. Embedded in the conventional moralizing, alongside such quaint ideas as man's accountability for his treatment of animals is an ethical idea as sublime as any found in Jewish or Christian teaching, an idea equal to the noblest doctrines of any ancient moralist. Man is the facsimile of God, God's visible face. Any disrespect for any human being is disrespect for God himself. This interpretation of the imago dei ethical rather than metaphysical terms is quite enough to justify the inclusion of 2 Enoch within the Pseudepigrapha.37

This one line dismissal of the 'quaint' idea of 'man's accountability for his treatment of animals,’ says more about the moral comprehension of the commentator than the author of II Enoch. It is indeed an impressive idea, as Andersen goes on to extol, that 'disrespect for any human being is disrespect for God himself'. But it shows a basic unfamiliarity with Jewish thought to also suppose that disrespect for God's own creatures is not also disrespect for God. Indeed, as Enoch makes clear, such disrespect is to act 'lawlessly,’ which is entirely apt since the Torah contains a range of humanitarian provisions that relate specifically to the treatment of animals. There is a spiritual linkage between these two ideas of responsibility which Enoch's message makes clear: our position as bearers of God's image requires the very same kind of compassion to others as God shows to us. Being special in creation means behaving especially well. Far from being two disparate or rival ideas they belong theologically together; that such a distinguished commentator should fail to see the link is one of the reasons why Christian tradition has perpetuated a moral blindness to animals of which Enoch would have been ashamed.

Overall, what these texts demonstrate is that interest in, and concern for, animals remained a theme of Christian thinking and imagining during the first centuries of Church history. Contrary to many commentators, these texts do contain insights of considerable theological value. It really is not good enough for scholars, like William Morrice, to just dismiss — for example — the Infancy Gospels as possessing 'little historical OR theological value'.38 Quite what their historical value is — is currently undeterminable, at least precisely. Some may be entirely legendary. Some may comprise genuine historical reminiscence. Some may yet turn out to constitute vital sources of illumination in understanding the complex three or four centuries of Christian history following the death of Jesus. I am inclined to a much more positive (and I hope more open) evaluation of their historical value. But historical value apart, their theological value, especially at a time when ethical discussion about our treatment of animals is increasingly topical, should not be underestimated.

It is often supposed that Christian thought has been indifferent or hostile to animals, and there is a great deal of evidence to support that view. But these (and many other) texts provide testimony to a recurrent preoccupation with the world of animals by Christians of various persuasions and at various times, spanning a significant period of early Church history. And a great deal of this concern and reflection has been — in comparison with many ages including our own — remarkably positive and ethically enlightened. One recent, and less jaundiced commentator, has written that 'we may assume that the basic underlying message of the speaking animal narratives calls on the hearer to display, at least, the dignity and sensitivity to the divine displayed by these animals. Readers of the apocryphal acts were asked to affirm, along with the leopard and the kid of the Acts of Philip, that there is no life, be it human or animal, apart from God.'39 Understanding that sense of relatedness, even of communion and fellowship, is a strand of spiritual reflection that still awaits theological recognition and ethical realisation.

Notes

1. Translation of Coptic text in Richard Bauckham, 'Jesus and Animals I: What did He Teach?' in Andrew Linzey and Dorothy Yamamoto (ed), Animals on the Agenda: Questions about Animals for Theology and Ethics (London: SCM Press and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1998), pp. 38-39; also cited and discussed in Andrew Linzey and Dan Cohn-Sherbok, After Noah: Animals and the Liberation of Theology (London: Mowbray, 1987), pp. 66f.

2. Roderick Dunkerley, Beyond the Gospels (London: Penguin Books, 1957), p. 143.

3. Bauckham, ibid, p. 39.

4. Bauckham, ibid.

5. The Gospel of the Ebionites, from Epiphanius adv. Haer., paras 30.13, 30.16, and 30.22, cited and discussed in J. K. Elliott (ed), The Apocryphal New Testament: A Collection of Apocryphal Christian Literature in an English Translation based on M. R. James (Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1993, © OUP, 1993, and reproduced with permission), pp. 15-16.

6. Elliott, ibid, p. 6.

7. Keith Akers, The Lost Religion of Jesus: Simple Living and Nonviolence in Early Christianity (New York: Lantern Books, 2000), p. 26. The foreword is by Walter Wink.

8. Robert Eisenman, James the Brother of Jesus: Recovering the True History of Early Christianity, Vol 1: The Cup of the Lord (London: Faber and Faber, 1997), see pp. 258-390.

9. The Protoevangelium of James, para 18. 1, in Elliott, ibid, p. 64.

10. Elliott, ibid, p. 49.

11. Song of Anna, para 3.1, Elliott, ibid, p. 58.

12. Elliott, ibid.

13. The Infancy Gospel of Thomas, para 2.1 (Greek A version) in Elliott, ibid, pp. 75-76.

14. Elliott, ibid, p. 68.

15. Elliott, ibid, p. 69.

16. See Elliott, ibid, paras 16.1 (Greek A), 1 (Latin), 2 (Latin), pp. 79-83.

17. The Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew, para 14, in Elliott, ibid, p. 94.

18. Wilhelm Schneemelcher (ed), ed and trans by R. McL. Wilson, New Testament Apocrypha, vol. 1: Gospels and Related Writings (Cambridge: James Clarke and Kentucky, Louiseville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1991), p. 65.

19. Elliott, ibid, p. 95.

20. Elliot, ibid.

21. Elliott, ibid, pp. 97-98.

22. For Aquinas on how we can have no friendship with irrational creatures, see 'Summa Theologica' in Fathers of the English Dominican Province (trans), The Summa Theologica of St. Thomas Aquinas (New York: Benzinger Bros, 1918), Part 1, Questions 6.41 and 65.3; extract in P. A. Clarke and Andrew Linzey (eds), Political Theory and Animal Rights (London & Winchester, Mass: Pluto Press, 1990), pp. 102-105. For a discussion of St. Francis of Assisi in comparison with St. Thomas, see Andrew Linzey and Ara Barsam, 'St. Francis of Assisi' in Joy A. Palmer (ed), Fifty Key Thinkers on the Environment (London and New York: Routledge, 2001), pp. 22-27.

23. The Acts of Paul, para 16, in Elliott, ibid, pp. 378-379.

24. Hippolytus, Commentary on Daniel 2.29, cited in Elliott, ibid, p. 350.

25. For a discussion of the centrality of reason, see Gillian Clark, 'The Fathers and Animals: The Rule of Reason?' in Linzey and Yamamoto, Animals on the Agenda, ibid, pp. 67-79.

26. Augustine, City of God, Book xii, paras 4 and 5.

27. For a discussion of this boundary and its theological significance, see Dorothy Yamamoto, 'Aquinas and Animals: Patrolling the Boundary?' in Linzey and Yamamoto, Animals on the Agenda, ibid, pp. 80-89.

28. The Acts of Thomas, para 39, in Elliott, p. 464.

29. Elliott, ibid, p. 442.

30. The Acts of Thomas, in Elliott, ibid, p. 479.

31. The Acts of Philip, VIII, in Elliott, ibid, pp. 515-516.

32. M. R. James (ed), The Apocryphal New Testament (Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1924), p. 438.

33. Elliott, ibid, p. 512.

34. See Andrew Linzey, 'Unfinished Creation: The Moral and Theological Significance of the Fall', Ecotheology, No 4, January 1998, pp. 20-26. In this article and in After Noah, ibid, pp. 91, 129-130, I specifically defend the use of imagination and storytelling as a means of appropriating Christian truths. So, although I have used the word 'imaginary' in this section to denote non-factual, I do not mean by that to deride its importance. I hold with Rachel Trickett that all believing requires an act of the imagination, and I do not think that scripture is the poorer for its authors using theirs.

35. For a discussion of the meaning of this extraordinary story, see Christopher R. Matthews, 'Articulate Animals: A Multivalent Motif in the Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles,’ in Francois Bovon, Ann Graham Brock, and Christopher R. Matthews (ed), The Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles, Harvard Divinity School Studies (Harvard Mass: Harvard University Press, 1999), pp. 205-232.

36. Enoch II, the Slavonic Apocalypse of Enoch, chapters 58-59 [J version] in James H. Charlesworth (ed), The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, Vol 1: Apocalyptic Literature and Testaments (London and New York: Doubleday, 1983), The Anchor Bible Reference Library, pp. 183-184. The material in square brackets indicates the editor's insertions.

37. F. I. Andersen, 'Introduction to (Slavonic Apocalypse of) Enoch', in Charlesworth, The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, ibid, p. 97; my emphases.

38. William Morrice, Hidden Sayings of Jesus: Words Attributed to Jesus Outside the Four Gospels (London: SPCK, 1997) p. 143; my emphases. Morrice's criteria for determining authenticity strike me as entirely subjective and question begging, pp. 17-23.

39. Matthews, in Bovon et al, The Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles, ibid, p. 232. Matthews says of the Apocryphal Acts that they represent 'certain strands of early Christian optimism [that] saw them [animals] awash in human salvation,’ (p. 205), but I would also want to add that whatever instrumentalist tendencies are present, they also offer an inclusive vision of animal and human redemption alike.