The REAL Reason Why Acolytes of the Farrer Hypothesis are SO CONVINCED To Theodore is a Forgery

Let's be real. Secret Mark need not disprove the Farrer hypothesis to disturb its promise of a clean solution. It need only introduce a history of Gospel composition and circulation that the familiar relationships among four surviving books cannot adequately describe.

That is the argument I want to make. An authentic Letter to Theodore would introduce additional questions: Which Mark? How many compositions circulated under that name? When were they produced? Who encountered them? How do their contents relate to the texts that survived?

A verdict of modern forgery removes that particular witness from the discussion. The resulting reconstruction has fewer complications.

My suspicion is that the attraction of preserving a clean solution helps explain some of the confidence surrounding the forgery verdict. That is an interpretation of the controversy. Whether it explains a particular scholar’s judgment requires evidence about that scholar’s arguments.

There is nothing inherently objectionable about preferring a simple explanation. A good explanation should account for the evidence economically. The difficulty begins when simplicity becomes a condition imposed on the evidence—when a reconstruction’s elegance becomes a reason to resist complications that deserve investigation.

A hypothesis becomes an ideology when protecting its completeness takes precedence over testing its adequacy.

Austin Farrer supplied a remarkably explicit statement of the ambition at issue. At the conclusion of “On Dispensing with Q,” he predicted:

“The whole literary history of the canonical Gospel tradition will be found to be contained in the fourfold canon itself.”

This appears on page 85 of his foundational essay, published in 1955. Farrer immediately qualified it by allowing the influence of the Old Testament, the Pseudepigrapha, and other New Testament writings. He also expressly allowed oral tradition.[1]

The qualification concerning oral tradition does not remove the significance of his prediction. Farrer envisioned a literary history in which Matthew amplified Mark, Luke used Mark and Matthew, and John presupposed all three. Additional lost Gospel sources would prove unnecessary.

He acknowledged that he had not supplied a complete demonstration. His concluding vision was a prediction about what further investigation would establish.

That distinction deserves preservation. A prediction invites testing. Once its fulfillment is treated as a requirement, it begins to constrain what investigators are prepared to discover.

The basic Farrer hypothesis is narrower than this comprehensive vision. Matthew’s use of Mark and Luke’s subsequent use of both can remain plausible even if other Gospel texts circulated. Consequently, an authentic Theodore need not destroy the central relationships proposed by Farrer.

It could nevertheless disturb the larger attraction: the prospect of explaining the relevant literary development through texts already in our possession.

A solution can retain its principal claims while becoming less complete, less exclusive, and more dependent on historical qualifications. That is the sense in which Secret Mark could make Farrer messy.

Clement’s undisputed writings already give us a reason to investigate the relationship between a Gospel’s name and its quoted contents.

In Quis dives salvetur, Clement presents an extended quotation of Jesus’s encounter with the rich man. Afterward, he identifies his source:

“These things stand written in the Gospel according to Mark.”

This is QDS 5.1. Clement then acknowledges differences of wording among the other recognized Gospel accounts while maintaining their agreement in meaning.[2]

The attribution belongs to Clement. A modern editor has not merely recognized a resemblance and supplied “Mark” in the margin.

Yet Clement’s quotation includes εἰ θέλεις τέλειος εἶναι, “if you wish to be perfect.” This wording appears in Matthew 19:21 and is absent from the corresponding passages in our standard texts of Mark and Luke.

Witness	Jesus’s loving look	Condition concerning perfection
Mark 10:21	Present	Absent
Matthew 19:21	Absent	Present
Luke 18:22	Absent	Absent
Clement, QDS 4.7	Present	Present

The quotation attributed to Mark combines Mark’s loving look with the perfection condition familiar from Matthew.[2]

Clement subsequently returns to the perfection condition in QDS 10.1. It supports his interpretation of the man’s incompleteness and freedom of choice. The condition therefore belongs to the transmitted exposition as well as to its opening quotation.[3]

Several explanations remain possible. Clement might have harmonized Matthew and Mark while quoting. He might have inherited an already combined form. His Gospel manuscript might have contained harmonizing readings. The transmission of QDS itself also requires consideration.

Harmonization may prove the best explanation. But the term identifies a process; it does not, by itself, establish who performed it or when. Those historical questions remain.

The example has a clear limitation: Luke does not reproduce the perfection condition. It is not a Matthew–Luke agreement against Mark and cannot itself explain one.

Its significance lies elsewhere. Clement names Mark while presenting wording that does not correspond precisely to the boundaries of our surviving Gospel texts. His attribution and his wording must be considered together.

The discrepancy is a small piece of historical mess. It becomes more consequential when placed beside a document that expressly describes different Markan compositions.

Clement’s broader use of named Gospels supplies useful context. In Stromata 2.9.45, he identifies the Gospel according to the Hebrews when citing a saying about wonder, kingship, and rest. In Stromata 3.13.93, he distinguishes the four received Gospels from the Gospel according to the Egyptians, locating a saying used by Cassianus in the latter.[4]

Clement could recognize a privileged fourfold collection while discussing Gospel literature outside it. The boundaries of his received collection did not exhaust his knowledge of Gospel writings.

These references do not demonstrate that the additional Gospels contributed to canonical composition. They establish the broader literary setting in which his references to Mark need to be examined.

The Letter to Theodore supplies a much more particular claim.

Its author describes an initial account composed by Mark at Rome during Peter’s lifetime. Following Peter’s martyrdom, Mark allegedly traveled to Alexandria with his own notes and Peter’s and expanded his earlier work. The letter distinguishes this composition from a version corrupted through Carpocratian additions.[5]

The author also supplies extracts and identifies their positions within the Markan narrative. One follows the passion prediction ending at Mark 10:34 and precedes the approach of James and John at 10:35. It concerns the raising of a wealthy youth and his subsequent instruction. A shorter extract follows the arrival at Jericho within Mark 10:46.[5]

The evidence is concentrated in the same chapter:

Location in Mark	Clementine evidence
10:17–31	The rich man episode quoted in QDS
After 10:34	The longer extract quoted in Theodore
Within 10:46	The shorter extract quoted in Theodore

This proximity invites comparison, especially between the rich man who departs and the wealthy youth who remains for instruction. It does not establish that they are the same character or that QDS used the expanded composition.

The cumulative significance is more precise. An authentic letter would add explicit Clementine testimony about different Markan compositions to the unusual named quotation in QDS.

The two works would not become independent witnesses merely because they are separate writings. They would offer different kinds of evidence from the same author: a quotation attributed to Mark and an account of Markan expansion.

Even then, Clement’s authorship would not automatically establish the accuracy of every historical claim in the letter. His knowledge of an expanded Gospel and his explanation of its origin would require separate evaluation.

The letter also describes expansion of an earlier work. It does not say that canonical Mark resulted from abbreviating the longer composition. That reconstruction requires further argument.

These distinctions produce a more complicated investigation. That is precisely the point.

The question would no longer be exhausted by identifying relationships among the surviving four Gospels. Investigators would also have to establish where another Markan composition belonged and whether it affected any of those relationships.

An expansion produced after Matthew and Luke might leave their literary relationship untouched. An earlier edition containing relevant material could affect particular arguments about their agreements. A relationship with John would require a further inquiry into the direction of dependence.

None of these possibilities can be settled merely by announcing that another Mark existed. Equally, the desire for a complete solution among surviving texts cannot settle them in advance.

How closely do Goodacre, Carlson, and Olson actually embrace Farrer’s comprehensive prediction?

The answer requires distinctions.

Writer	Position supported by the writings examined
Farrer	Explicitly predicts that the canonical Gospel tradition’s literary history will be contained within the fourfold canon, with stated exceptions.
Goodacre	Defends explanations through dependence on surviving Gospels, accepts oral tradition, and acknowledges that lost documents can be legitimate hypotheses.
Carlson	Presents Farrer as dispensing with Q through Luke’s use of Matthew. I can't locate an equivalent blanket declaration of four-Gospel sufficiency.
Olson	Explicitly supports Markan priority and Luke’s use of Matthew. I can't locate an equivalent blanket declaration.

Carlson’s overview explains Farrer through the plausibility of Luke’s use of Matthew. Olson’s account similarly identifies the sequence Mark–Matthew–Luke and the use of earlier Gospels by later evangelists.[6]

These statements do not establish that either author excludes every additional written source. Membership in a scholarly camp cannot substitute for examining what its members claim.

Goodacre’s qualifications are particularly important. His FAQ rejects the assumption that dispensing with Q necessarily means dispensing with all other sources. He allows Luke to interact with oral traditions alongside Mark and Matthew.[7]

That concession does not answer every question about an additional written Mark. Farrer himself accepted oral tradition while making his broader prediction about literary sources.

Goodacre directly addresses revised Markan sources in the same FAQ. Discussing a proposed deutero-Markus, he writes:

“Our only witness to its existence is the phenomenon of the minor and major agreements between Matthew and Luke against Mark.”

He prefers Luke’s knowledge of Matthew as the simpler explanation.[7]

An authentic Theodore would not establish the particular document required by that alternative theory. Its extracts cannot simply be expanded into whatever source a reconstruction needs.

It would, however, provide external testimony to another Markan composition. The general possibility of Markan plurality would then have evidence beyond modern attempts to explain Gospel agreements. Investigators would have to distinguish that testimony from the specific contents and chronology proposed for a reconstructed source.

Goodacre himself supplies an appropriate methodological standard. In “The Synoptic Problem: John the Baptist and Jesus,” he acknowledges the loss of numerous ancient texts and argues that Q’s hypothetical status cannot, by itself, count against its explanatory plausibility. Detailed comparison must decide the issue.[8]

That standard should apply to alternative Markan compositions too. A preference for surviving sources remains reasonable when it follows comparison. It becomes restrictive when survival determines the range of acceptable explanations.

Goodacre’s 2025 book, The Fourth Synoptic Gospel, extends his investigation to John’s knowledge of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Explaining its significance, he describes our ability to identify “three of John’s literary sources.” That wording does not claim they were John’s only sources.[9]

His research thus resembles an important part of the sequence Farrer anticipated without necessarily endorsing the entirety of Farrer’s prediction.

There is also a separate Clementine problem concerning Gospel order. Eusebius preserves a report from Clement’s Hypotyposeis commonly read as placing the Gospels containing genealogies before Mark. Carlson proposes that the disputed wording concerns public promulgation rather than chronological priority.[10]

That proposal deserves assessment through its linguistic and contextual arguments. Its compatibility with a preferred source theory does not decide whether it is correct.

The same distinction governs the forgery controversy.

Goodacre’s early confidence was striking. In May 2005, after reading a draft of Carlson’s work, he described it as “an utterly convincing case” and subsequently expressed surprise that anyone could continue seriously to maintain the letter’s authenticity.[11]

He later explained that he endorsed Carlson because he had examined the argument against the background of other scholarship and found it persuasive. He expressly resisted explanations based on ignorance or prejudice.[12]

That stated explanation must be addressed. A potential theoretical advantage does not establish that it caused his judgment.

Olson likewise distinguishes his analysis from Carlson’s specific attribution of the forgery to Morton Smith. In his discussion of the letter’s rhetorical function, he explicitly says he lacks the proof required to establish Smith’s authorship.[13]

A serious criticism must preserve these differences. Carlson’s attribution, Olson’s account of literary function, and Goodacre’s endorsement involve different arguments. They cannot be refuted collectively through a speculation about their shared theoretical sympathies.

What they can be asked collectively is whether their preferred reconstruction remains open to complications that do not fit its initial economy.

This is where the distinction between a hypothesis and an ideology becomes useful. A hypothesis can accommodate the discovery that its central relationships belong within a more complicated history. An ideology treats the preservation of the original picture as an intellectual obligation.

The danger arises when every relevant anomaly is assigned, without sufficient examination, to a category that leaves the preferred reconstruction untouched: harmonization, secondary expansion, imitation, or modern forgery.

Each of those explanations can be correct. The issue is how the choice is made. A reconstruction earns its simplicity by explaining the evidence; it cannot earn it by excluding inconvenient evidence because the result would be complicated.

This applies equally to defenders of Theodore. Authenticity cannot be assumed because an expanded Mark would be useful to their own theories. Nor can the missing portions of a Gospel be supplied imaginatively to solve every difficulty with Farrer.

The interpretive obligations run in both directions.

Clement’s quotation does not demonstrate that Matthew and Luke used an alternative Mark. An authentic letter would not automatically demonstrate it either. Specific arguments for Luke’s use of Matthew—including arguments about arrangement and editorial fatigue—would still require specific answers.[14]

But these limitations do not make the evidence irrelevant. They define the work required to integrate it into a historical reconstruction.

That is what a modern-forgery verdict removes: the obligation to explain Theodore as ancient testimony. It does not remove the unusual quotation in QDS. It does not establish that the surviving Mark exhausts the Markan forms relevant to early Christian literature. It does not turn Farrer’s prediction into a demonstrated history.

My contention is that a clean solution has an intellectual appeal beyond the strength of its individual arguments. It promises completion. The major documents are available; their relationships can be diagrammed; further discoveries can be fitted around an established sequence.

An authentic Theodore would interrupt that sense of completion. It would require another investigation into the identity, contents, and circulation of a foundational Gospel.

That complication might ultimately leave Luke’s use of Matthew intact. It might even strengthen some existing conclusions. What it would remove is the confidence that the necessary literary history has already been contained within the surviving four.

This is the potential bias identified by the title. The desire for a clean solution can make a verdict that removes complications especially attractive. Demonstrating that influence in individual cases requires close scrutiny of the arguments, their evidential standards, and their treatment of alternatives.

Secret Mark need not destroy Farrer to disturb its acolytes. It need only remind them that a persuasive solution to certain literary relationships may still leave a substantial history unexplained.

Farrer’s comprehensive prediction must remain answerable to that history.

References and textual notes:

1. Austin M. Farrer, “On Dispensing with Q”, in D. E. Nineham, ed., Studies in the Gospels: Essays in Memory of R. H. Lightfoot (Oxford: Blackwell, 1955), 55–88, especially 85. The quoted prediction must be read with its stated exceptions and acknowledgment of oral material.

2. Clement, Quis dives salvetur 4.7; 5.1. Greek in Otto Stählin, ed., Clemens Alexandrinus, vol. 3, GCS 17 (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1909), 162–63; Greek text. Compare Mark 10:21, Matthew 19:21, and Luke 18:22. Brief English renderings above are supplied from the Greek.

3. Clement, QDS 10.1, Stählin, 165; Greek transcription. The infinitive here is genesthai, whereas 4.7 has einai. Arguments concerning the quotation should use the Greek; details in older English translations do not always correspond to Stählin’s printed text.

4. Clement, Stromata 2.9.45.5, English translation, chapter 9; 3.13.92–93, Stählin, Clemens Alexandrinus, vol. 2, GCS 15 (1906), 238–39; Greek transcription. The discussion relies on the latter page’s Greek, rather than its generated English translation.

5. Letter to Theodore 1r.15–1v.9; 1v.20–2r.16. Edition, photographs, and translation in Morton Smith, Clement of Alexandria and a Secret Gospel of Mark (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973), 446–52; Smith’s translation reproduced online. Attribution to Clement remains disputed.

6. Stephen C. Carlson, “Overview of Proposed Solutions”, section on Farrer, and “Synoptic Problem FAQ,” §4; Ken Olson, “Welcome to my blog”. The findings concern the writings examined, rather than every publication by these authors.

7. Mark Goodacre, “Frequently Asked Questions on the Case Against Q”, especially the discussions of Ur-Marcus, deutero-Markus, and other sources.

8. Goodacre, “The Synoptic Problem: John the Baptist and Jesus”, in Andrew B. McGowan and Kent Harold Richards, eds., Method and Meaning: Essays on New Testament Interpretation in Honor of Harold W. Attridge (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011), 177–92, especially 187.

9. Goodacre, The Fourth Synoptic Gospel: John’s Knowledge of Matthew, Mark, and Luke (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2025); B. J. Oropeza, “The Fourth Synoptic Gospel: An Interview with Mark Goodacre”.

10. Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History 6.14.5–7, reporting Clement’s Hypotyposeis; Carlson, “Clement of Alexandria on the ‘Order’ of the Gospels”, New Testament Studies 47 (2001): 118–25, especially 122–25.

11. Goodacre, “Stephen Carlson and Secret Mark,” May 12, 2005, and “More Secret Mark,” May 13, 2005. Carlson’s book appeared as The Gospel Hoax: Morton Smith’s Invention of Secret Mark (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2005).

12. Goodacre, “Tony Chartrand-Burke on Secret Mark at the SBL,” December 4, 2008.

13. Ken Olson, “Tinker Tailor Soldier Forger,” including his clarifying comment, reproduced with permission by Neil Godfrey, June 23, 2020.

14. Goodacre, “Fatigue in the Synoptics”, New Testament Studies 44 (1998): 45–58, especially 54–58.

Solving the Problem of Mar Saba: The Complete 21-Part Video Series

The controversy over the Letter to Theodore has become a controversy about Morton Smith. His personality, his private life, his dedications, and his supposed intentions have repeatedly been used to explain a manuscript whose language, handwriting, and history require examination in their own right.

This series returns to that evidence. Across twenty-one videos, I examine how the letter has been read, how arguments for forgery have been constructed, what Quentin Quesnell’s examination contributed, and what happens when scholars draw conclusions from reproductions without adequately investigating the photographs behind them.

The argument develops across the series, but the individual videos also address distinct questions. I have collected them here in order, with an introduction explaining the larger problem and a conclusion proposing what the scholarly community should do about it.

Introduction: Solving the Problem of Mar Saba

What should happen when someone discovers an unfamiliar manuscript? The introduction establishes the central concern of the series: preserving the object, documenting the discovery, and making the evidence available for independent examination.

Part 1: Morton Smith in Context

The starting point: Morton Smith, his discovery, and the controversy that developed around it.

Part 2: Reading the Letter to Theodore

Smith’s interpretation deserves examination alongside those of his critics. Understanding what the letter says must come before explaining why someone supposedly invented it.

Part 3: Who Knows?

Smith’s consultations, his dedication “to the one who knows,” and the transformation of uncertainty into suspicion. How did efforts to understand a discovery become evidence in a story about deception?

Part 4: From Concordance to Accusation

The use of Clement’s vocabulary in arguments against the letter. What can verbal similarities establish, and what additional reasoning is required before they become evidence of forgery?

Part 5: Does the Test Recognize Clement?

A method intended to distinguish Clement from an imitator must demonstrate that it can recognize Clement’s own writing. This installment examines the assumptions behind the test.

Part 6: Clement’s Language and Thought

Vocabulary belongs to an argument, a literary practice, and a way of thinking. The letter’s relationship to Clement must be examined at those levels as well.

Part 7: Before Morton Smith

The evidence for Clement’s correspondence did not begin with the discovery at Mar Saba. This installment turns to material that predates Smith and asks what it contributes to the discussion.

Part 8: A Lost Letter of Clement

A closer examination of the evidence for a lost Clementine letter and its significance for evaluating the Letter to Theodore.

Part 9: Clement and the Lost Letters

The wider problem of Clement’s correspondence: what survives, what is reported, and how fragmentary transmission affects our expectations about a newly encountered letter.

Part 10: Clement and the Bookends

The significance of the framing material around the letter’s most discussed passages, and the importance of reading those passages within the argument that contains them.

Part 11: The Cumulative Case

A cumulative argument depends on the quality and independence of its components. This installment asks whether the proposed evidence becomes stronger when assembled—and whether some arguments merely repeat the assumptions of others.

Part 12: What the Forgery Theory Requires

A forgery hypothesis must explain the production of a particular object. What knowledge, materials, preparation, and practical execution would the proposed scenario require?

Part 13: Quesnell’s Copying Experiment

Quesnell’s attempt to copy the handwriting provides a concrete point of comparison. What did the experiment involve, and what can its results establish?

Part 14: The Handwriting Has Habits

Recurring features of the script deserve examination as patterns. This installment considers the writer’s habits and their significance for claims about imitation.

Part 15: They Tried It

Attempts to reproduce the manuscript bring the discussion into the realm of practical demonstration. The conditions of an experiment matter when its results are used to explain how the manuscript could have been made.

Part 16: What Bothered Quesnell

Quesnell’s concerns become clearer when his public arguments are considered alongside the surviving record of his investigation. This installment examines the relationship between suspicion and observation.

Part 17: Ink, Paper, and the Proposed Accomplice

The material questions surrounding the manuscript intersect with proposals about assistance and collaboration. Each addition to the hypothesis creates another claim that requires evidence.

Part 18: The Expanding Forgery Hypothesis

As the literature grows, the proposed explanation acquires further elements. Has the evidence expanded at the same rate as the hypothesis?

Part 19: From Suspicion to Proof

An accusation requires a demonstrable connection between its evidence and its conclusion. This installment examines the steps needed to move from something considered suspicious to something established.

Part 20: The Tremor in the Printing Press

A feature visible in a reproduction must first be traced to its source. Before a mark becomes evidence about the writer’s hand, we need to establish whether it belongs to the manuscript, the photograph, or the printing process.

Part 21: Seven Egregious Sins of Mar Saba Scholarship

The final numbered installment brings together seven failures examined throughout the series. From the plain reading of gymnoi and the visible iota to the reliance on gossip and the misuse of reproductions, it asks how avoidable errors acquired scholarly authority.

Conclusion: What Should Happen After a Discovery?

The conclusion brings the discussion back to institutional responsibility: how discoveries should be reported, how photographs and examination records should be preserved, and how future researchers should obtain access to them. It also develops the proposal for a coordinating repository in Hamburg.

The authenticity of the Letter to Theodore and the quality of the scholarship surrounding it are distinct questions. An argument can fail regardless of the manuscript’s ultimate origin. An observation can remain valuable even when the person who recorded it drew an inadequate conclusion.

What this case demands is an accessible record: clear photographs with documented origins, complete accounts of examinations, reproducible comparisons, and a clear distinction between observation and inference. Those requirements should guide the handling of the next discovery from the moment it is made.

Is the Letter to Theodore an Encyclical Letter?

I think people have the Letter to Theodore all wrong. I don’t think it is simply private correspondence. I think it acts more like an encyclical letter, and that is why Clement makes Mark such a big deal. Assuming that Mark occupied the same foundational role in Alexandrian Christian life then that he occupies today, Clement cites him because he is appealing to apostolic authority. He is distinguishing his personal opinion from what he presents as authoritative decree.

The same principle operates in Quis Dives Salvetur. Clement is not merely offering his own “interpretation” of Mark. He invokes the authority of Mark’s gospel to determine how its account of the rich man must be understood. The distinction concerns the source of the judgment: Clement presents himself as explaining an authoritative teaching that already exists.

That distinction gives the references to Mark in To Theodore their significance. Naming Mark establishes the authority behind the gospel, the church entrusted with its preservation, and the tradition against which the Carpocratians’ claims must be judged.

The comparison with Quis Dives Salvetur deserves close attention. In §4.2, Clement introduces the Saviour’s words as:

ἑαυτῶν ἑρμηνέας γινομένους καὶ ἐξηγητὰς ἀσφαλεῖς

That is, “becoming their own interpreters and reliable expositors.” Clement grounds the explanation in the words themselves. After quoting the gospel passage, he identifies its source in §5.1:

Ταῦτα μὲν ἐν τῷ κατὰ Μάρκον εὐαγγελίῳ γέγραπται.

“These things are written in the Gospel according to Mark.” He then observes the agreement in meaning among the other acknowledged gospels.

Clement certainly performs interpretation. His argument, however, assigns decisive authority to the Saviour’s teaching as transmitted in the gospel. In §5.2–4, he insists that its meaning requires investigation appropriate to divine and mystical instruction. Its apparent simplicity cannot determine the limits of its meaning.

This is the distinction I propose for To Theodore: Clement’s explanation claims to disclose the authoritative meaning of a received text. His own ingenuity is not presented as the source of the teaching’s authority.

Mark’s position in Alexandria makes that appeal especially consequential.

The contemporary Coptic Orthodox Church explicitly understands its patriarchal succession as the See or Throne of Saint Mark. That modern understanding cannot simply be projected backward unchanged, but it identifies the kind of foundational authority at issue.

An ancient formulation appears in Eusebius. In Ecclesiastical History 2.16.1, Mark proclaims his gospel in Egypt and establishes churches in Alexandria. In 2.24.1, Annianus succeeds him in the administration of the Alexandrian community. Gospel, ecclesiastical foundation, and succession converge in Mark.

To Theodore makes a corresponding claim about textual custody. Mark’s writing is left to the Alexandrian church and remains under its protection, with its reading restricted to those admitted to the greater mysteries (I.28–II.2). The gospel is situated within a continuing ecclesiastical inheritance.

This is why, on the proposed reading, Clement references Mark openly. Mark is the seat of authority in the letter’s account of Alexandria. Identifying him explains whose tradition is being defended. Restrictions upon access to its contents do not require concealing the identity of the authority behind it.

The letter also distinguishes different kinds of statement. Clement qualifies his assessment of Mark’s preparation with an expression meaning “as it seems to me” at I.27. Elsewhere, he gives impersonal prescriptions: the opponents must be resisted; their claims must not be conceded; disclosure must be controlled (I.7–9; II.10–13). Personal assessment and directions governing conduct occupy distinguishable places in the argument.

That does not turn every prescription into a formal ecclesiastical decree. It does show why the letter’s voice deserves examination as an attempt to establish an authoritative response to a controversy.

The account of Carpocrates serves that purpose. He allegedly obtains a copy through a compromised Alexandrian presbyter and then corrupts its interpretation and contents (II.3–10). The story explains how opponents might possess recognizable material without possessing legitimate authority over the tradition.

Possession, transmission, and interpretation are separate questions. The letter places the right to resolve them within the Alexandrian inheritance associated with Mark.

But how securely do we know Clement’s own position within that inheritance?

His importance as a writer is evident. His precise institutional position is much less securely documented. The familiar description of Clement as the head of an established Alexandrian catechetical school can make the evidence appear considerably fuller than it is.

Epiphanius supplies a revealing example. In Panarion 32.6.1, he identifies:

“Clement, whom some call Clement of Alexandria, and others, Clement of Athens.”

He reports the two identifications without explaining their relationship. He does not distinguish birthplace from residence or supply an account of Clement’s Alexandrian office. The conventional reconstruction—born in Athens, subsequently active in Alexandria—reconciles the labels, but Epiphanius does not himself provide that biography.

Why does someone who knows Clement’s work leave such a basic matter unsettled? We do not have a source explaining his uncertainty. The chronological interval is also worth stating accurately. Epiphanius began the Panarion in 374 or 375, approximately 160 years after Clement’s conventionally dated death in 211–215. This was a comparatively short interval, yet the surviving notice already preserves unresolved identifications.

Epiphanius was acquainted with Clement as a literary authority: the surrounding discussion draws upon material preserved in the third book of the Stromateis (Panarion 32.4–6). His uncertainty therefore illustrates the difference between possessing an author’s writings and possessing a secure biography of their author.

Eusebius supplies important additional evidence. He connects Clement with Alexandrian catechetical instruction after Pantaenus (Ecclesiastical History 6.6.1). He also preserves Alexander’s description of Clement as a respected presbyter who strengthened the church and carried correspondence to Antioch (6.11.6). These notices establish teaching, standing, and ecclesiastical connections. They leave much about the extent and formal basis of his authority unexplained.

The historical difficulty is consequently more substantial than deciding which familiar institutional title to attach to him. Edward J. Creedy’s recent study argues that Eusebius presents a succession of Christian teachers rather than an unambiguous succession of heads of a formally constituted catechetical institution. The institutional reconstruction remains a matter requiring argument.

This uncertainty does not prove suppression or a concealed episcopate. It makes Clement’s own account of his authority especially valuable.

The surviving opening chapter of the Stromateis provides precisely such an account. Clement explains how he receives, selects, arranges, preserves, and communicates inherited teaching. Those activities closely resemble the activities attributed to Mark in the Letter to Theodore.

At Stromateis 1.1.11.1–3, Clement describes his composition as ὑπομνήματα: notes or memoranda preserving instruction received from earlier teachers. He connects that instruction with an apostolic inheritance associated with Peter, James, John, and Paul. His literary undertaking is grounded in what has been transmitted to him.

In To Theodore I.18–21, Mark arrives in Alexandria with his own and Peter’s memoranda. From these resources he supplements his earlier composition with material appropriate to advancement in knowledge. The further gospel results from editorial work upon inherited material.

Both accounts therefore place the writer between an earlier body of authoritative teaching and a later audience. His qualification consists in access to the inheritance and the capacity to transmit it appropriately. Producing a further composition can be an act of fidelity to what has been received.

The resemblance becomes more specific when Clement explains his editorial decisions. At Stromateis 1.1.14.2–3, he describes arranging recollections and deliberately omitting material. His expression is:

ἐκλέγων ἐπιστημόνως
“selecting with knowledge.”

The writer exercises informed judgment about what belongs in the composition.

Mark exercises corresponding judgment in To Theodore I.15–26. The earlier gospel selects material useful for the development of faith; the Alexandrian enlargement introduces material suited to further progress. Composition serves the capacities and needs of its intended recipients.

At the beginning of the Stromateis, Clement effectively occupies the authorial role attributed to Mark in the letter: the knowledgeable custodian who develops inherited material through selection and arrangement.

A further correspondence concerns the limits of writing. At Stromateis 1.1.14.2, Clement explains that his work does not undertake an adequate exposition of the reserved teachings; it serves recollection. At 1.1.13.2, he distinguishes personal transmission from committing something to writing. A written work participates in instruction without containing its entirety.

Mark’s more spiritual gospel likewise does not explicitly record the Lord’s ἱεροφαντικὴν διδασκαλίαν, “hierophantic teaching” (To Theodore I.22–24). An advanced composition can remain selective and require further interpretation.

The ethical justification for restraint is also comparable. Clement describes his deliberate omissions as:

οὔ τί που φθονῶν
“certainly not begrudging.”

His concern is that readers might misunderstand and suffer harm (Stromateis 1.1.14.3).

Mark’s preparation is similarly described as ἀφθόνως, “without grudging” (To Theodore I.26–27). Both accounts address the same difficulty: a generous teacher must communicate, yet responsible communication requires attention to the recipient’s capacity. Limiting disclosure can be part of fulfilling the duty to teach.

Clement then describes concealment as a feature of literary composition. At Stromateis 1.1.15.1, his writing will:

ἐπικρυπτομένη ἐκφῆναι
“make manifest while concealing.”

The text permits recognition without making everything immediately explicit. Mark’s arrangement likewise includes sayings whose interpretation leads the hearer into veiled truth (To Theodore I.24–26). In both accounts, the composition supports an interpretive movement beyond its immediately accessible surface.

The progression is explicit in Stromateis 1.1.15.2–3:

μυστήρια τὰ πρὸ μυστηρίων
“mysteries preceding mysteries.”

Preparatory instruction makes possible a further stage. That educational logic corresponds to the distinction between Mark’s earlier composition and the Alexandrian enlargement: material appropriate to the development of faith is followed by material suited to advancement in knowledge.

Finally, Clement explains why a written work needs a competent interpreter. At Stromateis 1.1.14.4, writing cannot answer questions beyond its contents. It needs assistance from its author or someone who has followed the same path. At 1.1.16.3, discovering truth through sustained effort similarly involves a suitable helper.

Clement performs that assistance in To Theodore. He supplies gospel passages as evidence and begins to explain their correct meaning; the surviving letter breaks off as he turns to the true interpretation (II.19–III.18). He occupies the interpretive position that the Stromateis says written compositions require.

These correspondences concern a connected account of authorship: inherited material, informed selection, purposeful arrangement, progressive instruction, restrained disclosure, and qualified interpretation. Mark provides an Alexandrian precedent for the kind of literary stewardship Clement describes undertaking himself.

The works differ in genre. The shared model is an author authorized by his relationship to received teaching. That model helps explain Clement’s voice in the letter even where his precise institutional position remains uncertain.

The comparison with Athanasius then helps explain how such a voice could function in ecclesiastical correspondence.

At To Theodore I.8–9, Clement qualifies the opponents’ possible possession of truth:

Εἰ γὰρ καί τι ἀληθὲς λέγοιεν
“For even if they should say something true …”

The sentence continues by denying that the lover of truth would consequently agree with them. A correct statement does not automatically confer authority upon its speaker.

Compare Athanasius, To the Bishops of Egypt and Libya §3:

Οὐδὲ γὰρ τὴν ἀλήθειαν λέγων ἀξιόπιστός ἐστιν ὁ πανοῦργος.

“For the deceiver is not trustworthy even when speaking the truth.”

Athanasius connects this principle with Christ’s silencing of demons whose identification of him was correct. Their truthful speech could provide an opportunity to introduce deception.

In §8, the principle becomes an instruction to his recipients:

κἂν τὰ ῥήματα τῆς ὀρθοδοξίας φθέγγωνται, μηδ’ οὕτως τοῖς λαλοῦσι προσέχετε.

“Even if they utter the expressions of orthodoxy, do not, even so, pay attention to the speakers.”

The warning applies to opponents who employ scriptural language.

The common argument concerns authority and reception. Apparently correct religious language is insufficient grounds for accepting the person or teaching that employs it.

The surrounding sequence strengthens the comparison. Theodore’s opening approves silencing the Carpocratians, refuses to grant them authority because they sometimes speak truth, and explains corruption through the mixture of truth and fabrication (I.2–15). Athanasius likewise joins silencing, truthful speech, and dangerous admixture in §3. The resemblance extends to the relationship among the arguments.

Theodore’s distinction between apparent truth and truth according to faith—including the expression commonly translated “true truth” at I.11—belongs within this concern. It is not an exact verbal parallel to Athanasius §§3 or 8. Its significance is that the mere presence of something true does not resolve whether the teaching containing it should be received.

Athanasius employs this argument to establish a common response to a doctrinal threat. Theodore’s opening can similarly be read as guidance intended for application beyond the immediate exchange.

The individual address to Theodore does not settle the question of audience.

Athanasius supplies a concrete example in the letter to Serapion preserved with Festal Letter XII. He sends material so that the brethren will learn through Serapion what they need to know. Concerning his instruction about the fast, he explains:

“for I have written this to each one”

The communication also supplies documentary evidence against Meletian claims. Serapion receives information that he is expected to use in instructing a community and answering its opponents. An individual recipient participates in a wider ecclesiastical exchange.

This provides a practical model for the proposed reading of Theodore. The named recipient can be the person through whom a broader audience receives, understands, or applies an authoritative judgment.

Another Athanasian letter supplies the complementary evidence about confidentiality. In Letter 54, concerning Arius’s death, §5, Athanasius directs Serapion to read the material to those who had raised the disputed question. He also restricts copying:

μηδενὶ μέντοι θελήσῃς ἐκδοῦναι τούτων ἀντίγραφον μηδὲ σαυτῷ μεταγράψαι

“Do not, however, agree to give anyone a copy of these, or transcribe them for yourself.”

The direction concerns the material sent with the letter, including the associated writing to the monks. Athanasius fears that readers will impose preconceived opinions upon the text and distort its meaning. Communication to an intended audience is permitted while reproduction remains controlled.

Together, the two Serapion letters establish two relevant practices: common instructions could be conveyed through individual recipients, and material intended to reach others could remain subject to restrictions on copying and disclosure.

This does not make every confidential letter an encyclical. It shows why confidentiality cannot establish that a letter’s purpose ended with its named recipient.

Theodore’s letter similarly differentiates the treatment of opponents from the instruction offered to Theodore. Its rules about disclosure lead into an answer supported by gospel quotations (II.10–20). That movement is intelligible as the preparation of a trusted intermediary who needs both the grounds for a judgment and instructions governing its use.

A comparison from Clement’s own period makes this ecclesiastical setting more concrete. Serapion of Antioch—distinct from Athanasius’s later correspondent—wrote to the community at Rhossus concerning the Gospel of Peter. Eusebius preserves extracts in Ecclesiastical History 6.12.3–6.

Serapion distinguishes apostolic authority from writings falsely attributed to apostles. Having obtained and examined the disputed gospel, he reports that much accords with the Saviour’s teaching while other material has been added. He indicates that he has identified the objectionable additions for his recipients.

Here an ecclesiastical writer intervenes in a controversy over a gospel carrying an authoritative name, assesses its contents, and communicates a judgment to those affected. The authoritative association is precisely what makes the disputed text consequential.

Theodore’s appeal to Mark belongs within that kind of controversy. Naming Mark identifies the foundation of the claim. Explaining the gospel’s transmission, custody, and proper interpretation determines who can legitimately appeal to that foundation.

The cumulative case therefore rests on several connected observations. The letter invokes Alexandria’s foundational gospel authority. Its writer occupies a role closely resembling the editorial and interpretive role Clement claims in the Stromateis. Its opening resembles Athanasius’s instructions for confronting doctrinal opponents. Its personal address and restrictions on disclosure are compatible with practices through which ecclesiastical judgments reached wider audiences.

An encyclical function nevertheless remains an inference. The surviving Theodore text contains no distribution list or explicit forwarding instruction. The parallels establish a historically intelligible model, not a surviving record of its circulation.

That model explains why the letter combines a personal addressee with general prescriptions, restricted disclosure with substantial explanation, and textual argument with an appeal to Alexandrian custody. It equips a recipient to defend a received tradition against rival appropriations.

Mark’s prominence follows from that purpose. Clement names Mark because the authority being defended is Mark’s authority, preserved within the Alexandrian church. His own task is to communicate the judgment that follows from it.

Do I Have One of the Best Dogs in Washington?

 

SBL Part 3 The "Gay Thing" With the Secret Mark Forgery Theory

 

SBL Part 2 How Morton Smith Lost His Way

 

More Than Assembling Random Words from a Concordance

The strongest parallels occur in Clement’s handling of disputed teaching, selective disclosure, and quotation, as well as in several individual grammatical constructions. Below I go through the entire surviving letter, including its gospel quotations.

I use manuscript page-and-line references for the letter, and book, section, subsection for Clement: Strom. V.140.2 means book V, section 140, subsection 2. “Close” means a demonstrable grammatical or verbal correspondence; it does not necessarily mean an entire sentence is reproduced.

The opening attribution to Clement is a heading rather than part of the letter’s argumentative prose.

1. I.2 — Theodore did well to silence the Carpocratians

The construction is καλῶς ποιεῖν + participle: the participle specifies the action being commended.

Compare Strom. III.1.2–3:

καλῶς ποιοῦσι μὴ γαμοῦντες

“They do well in not marrying.”

This is a close grammatical parallel: present tense and a negative present participle in the Stromata, versus aorist verb and aorist participle in the letter. Clement is reporting a Basilidian interpretation here, so it is an attested construction in his prose, rather than necessarily his own judgment. 

2. I.3–4 — Οὗτοι γὰρ οἱ προφητευθέντες ἀστέρες πλανῆται…

The sentence begins with a nominal identification, with “are” understood, then adds an extended articular participial description: these people are the wandering stars—those wandering away from the road.

Compare Strom. VII.94.6:

οἱ τοιοῦτοι δέ, ἅτε ἀποπεσόντες τῆς ὀρθῆς ὁδοῦ…

Clement identifies a class of people and then explains their errors through a participial description of departure from the right road. The difference matters: his participle is causal, introduced by ἅτε; the letter’s is attributive, introduced by the repeated article. This is a close combination of syntax and metaphor, not an identical sentence frame. 

There is also a more localized correspondence in Strom. IV.158.2, where sin/disobedience is described as σαρκικῆς τε οὔσης καὶ ἐνσωμάτου. The letter turns the same paired characterization into attributive adjectives modifying “sins.” 

3. I.5–7 — Πεφυσιωμένοι γὰρ εἰς γνῶσιν…

This long sentence contains three independently comparable constructions.

• Perfect participle + εἰς γνῶσιν. Paed. I.25.1 has οἱ εἰς γνῶσιν πεφυσιωμένοι. This is an especially close match: the same participle, preposition, and noun, with their order changed. 
• λανθάνω + supplementary participle, expressing an action performed without recognizing its significance. Compare Strom. II.118.1: ἐλάνθανεν δὲ ἑαυτὸν κατασοφιζόμενος ὁ ἄθλιος—the unfortunate man was unwittingly outwitting himself. The letter similarly describes unwitting self-destruction. 
• A claim to freedom reversed into slavery. Strom. III.44.4 says μηδὲ λεγόντων ἐλευθερίαν τὴν ὑπὸ ἡδονῆς δουλείαν: they must not call slavery to pleasure freedom. For the particular construction “boasting + infinitive,” compare III.49.1, where opponents boast of understanding the gospel better than others. 

The accusative ἐλευθέρους deserves separate attention. With an infinitive sharing the subject of καυχώμενοι, a nominative predicate would be the straightforward construction. An understood reflexive accusative can explain the wording, but the parallels above do not establish an exact match for that case choice.

4. I.7–8 — Τούτοις οὖν ἀντιστατέον πάντῃ τε καὶ πάντως

Compare Strom. VII.90.2:

πιστευτέον οὖν τοῖς βεβαίως ἐχομένοις τῆς ἀληθείας

“One must therefore trust those who hold firmly to the truth.”

Both have an impersonal verbal adjective in -τέον, inferential οὖν, and a dative identifying the people toward whom the prescribed action is directed. The dative is a complement of the verb, not a dative of agent.

The adverbial combination πάντῃ τε καὶ πάντως also occurs in Strom. VI.155.2. Thus the sentence combines an attested directive construction with an attested emphatic expression.

5. I.8–9 — Εἰ γὰρ καί τι ἀληθὲς λέγοιεν…

I read τι ἀληθές, “something true,” following the usual transcription, where your pasted text has το ἀληθές.

Compare Strom. V.140.2:

εἰ γὰρ καὶ τὰς λέξεις ἐπίοιμεν αὐτῶν, οὐκ ἂν φθάνοιμεν

The grammatical correspondence is particularly strong:

Letter	Clement
εἰ γὰρ καί + optative λέγοιεν	εἰ γὰρ καί + optative ἐπίοιμεν
negative + optative συμφωνοίη + ἄν	negative + ἄν + optative φθάνοιμεν

There is a difference in force: Clement’s καί can mean “also”—if we also examined their expressions—whereas the letter’s is concessive, “even if.” The conditional architecture nevertheless matches closely. 

The nominal expression “lover of truth” also appears in Strom. VII.94.5, in the dative τῷ τῆς ἀληθείας ἐραστῇ.

6. I.9–11 — Οὐδὲ γὰρ πάντα τἀληθῆ ἀλήθεια…

I did not locate an exact counterpart to the opening aphorism. There are, however, strong parallels for its distinctions.

In Strom. I.98.4, Clement distinguishes Greek truth from Christian truth even though they bear the same name. At I.100.2 he uses the exact attributive expression:

ἡ κατὰ τὴν πίστιν ἀλήθεια

The letter relocates that prepositional qualification after its noun, with a repeated article. 

For the prescription to distinguish apparent from genuine truth, compare Strom. VII.91.4:

διακριτέον … τὸ ἀληθὲς ἀπὸ τοῦ φαινομένου

Both employ -τέον to prescribe a discrimination between reality and appearance. Clement has separation with ἀπό; the letter has preference with a comparative genitive. This is a close argumentative and grammatical analogue, with different verbal government.

7. I.11–13 — Τῶν τοίνυν θρυλουμένων… τὰ μὲν… τὰ δέ…

The initial genitive is partitive, not a genitive absolute: “of the things being circulated,” some fall into one category and others into another.

Compare Strom. I.87.2, where material obtained from the prophets is distributed into categories: some things were falsified, others distorted through ignorant ingenuity, others invented. The organizing device is the same τὰ μέν … τὰ δέ partition, although Clement expresses the subsequent actions through participles.

More pointedly, I.85.3 says:

ἐν δὲ τοῖς ψεύδεσι καὶ ἀληθῆ τινα ἔλεγον οἱ ψευδοπροφῆται

False prophets said some true things among their falsehoods. This closely parallels the letter’s ἀληθῆ τινα contained within unreliable reporting. Neither passage supplies the complete fronted-genitive sentence, but together they provide substantial comparanda.

8. I.13–15 — Συγκεκραμένα γὰρ τἀληθῆ τοῖς πλάσμασι παραχαράσσεται…

Compare Strom. I.18.1:

ἀναμεμιγμένην τὴν ἀλήθειαν τοῖς φιλοσοφίας δόγμασι

The shared construction is perfect passive participle of mixing + truth as the affected entity + dative of what it is mixed with. Clement’s phrase is accusative, dependent on “will contain”; the letter makes the corresponding entity its nominative subject.

For the next predication, compare Strom. III.27.4:

οἱ παραχαράσσοντες τὴν ἀλήθειαν

The letter converts an attested active “falsifying truth” expression into a passive assertion. I did not find a comparably close Clementine parallel for the complete concluding ὥστε + infinitive construction involving salt. 

9. I.15–18 — Mark’s initial selection of material

The governing structure is a finite verb of writing, followed by two negative participial qualifications and a positive corrective participle: not reporting everything, nor indicating the mysteries, but selecting useful material.

Compare Strom. I.14.3:

τὰ μὲν ἑκὼν παραπέμπομαι ἐκλέγων ἐπιστημόνως

Clement describes deliberately passing over material while selecting knowledgeably. His finite statement likewise expands into participles explaining selection, reluctance to write, and concern for readers.

This is a substantial parallel for authorial selection expressed through a governing verb and an extended participial explanation, although the letter’s exact three-member negative-negative-positive arrangement is not reproduced there.

10. I.18–22 — Peter’s death, Mark’s relocation, and the further composition

For the opening temporal construction, compare Quis dives salvetur 42.2:

τοῦ τυράννου τελευτήσαντος … μετῆλθεν ἐπὶ τὴν Ἔφεσον

The pattern is strikingly similar: someone’s death in a genitive absolute, followed by another person’s geographical relocation. In the letter, participles then connect the relocation with carrying documents and transferring material. 

A separate comparison is Clement’s gospel-origin account preserved by Eusebius, HE VI.14.6–7. It connects Peter’s Roman preaching, Mark’s writing, and a subsequent “spiritual gospel.” However, the spiritual gospel there belongs to John, and the account is transmitted through Eusebius. It is relevant evidence for the narrative formulation, but should not be presented as Clement independently telling the letter’s particular story.

11. I.22–26 — Further writing without disclosing the innermost teaching

Two correspondences stand out.

First, Strom. I.21.2 joins ἀπόρρητος teaching with ἐξορχήσασθαι, the unusual verb used for divulging it. The letter uses the same verb with the substantivized plural “the secret things.” This is a close match in both vocabulary and the verb’s object relationship.

Second, Strom. I.13.2 describes recipients:

οἷς προσήκειν ἠπίστατο

“Those for whom he knew it was appropriate.”

Both passages embed ἠπίστατο + infinitive within a relative construction concerning the proper communication of teaching. The letter is more elaborate, introducing an accusative subject, “the interpretation,” and a future infinitive.

For the sevenfold enclosure and sanctuary imagery, Strom. V.32–34 is relevant. But that is an imagery parallel; it does not reproduce the letter’s intricate relative-and-infinitive construction.

12. I.26–27 — Preparation without jealousy or carelessness

Compare the explanation of withholding material in Strom. I.14.3:

οὔ τί που φθονῶν … δεδιὼς δὲ … περὶ τῶν ἐντυγχανόντων

Clement rejects jealousy as his motive and substitutes concern about readers.

The letter compresses essentially the same paired evaluation into two coordinated negative adverbs. The grammatical realization differs—participles versus adverbs—but the balancing of generosity against responsible restraint is unusually close.

13. I.27–II.2 — Leaving the work to the church, with restricted reading

The sentence moves from an author’s death and bequest to a locative relative clause describing the document’s continuing preservation and readership.

The closest verified construction concerning access is Strom. V.58.2:

ἃ μὴ ῥᾳδίως ἐπιτρέπουσι τοῖς μαθηταῖς ἀναγινώσκειν

Clement describes writings that students are not readily permitted to read until they have been tested. The letter similarly characterizes a document by who may read it, though it uses a passive participle rather than permission plus infinitive.

The distinction between preliminary and greater mysteries also appears in V.71.1. That supports the classification of readers by advancement, but not the whole bequest-and-preservation sentence. 

14. II.2–9 — Carpocrates obtains and corrupts a copy

This period combines:

• a causal or circumstantial genitive absolute;
• participles describing instruction and deceptive means;
• a main verb followed by a result clause;
• a relative clause describing interpretation and contamination.

In Strom. I.20.2 Clement writes:

ὑπό τινος ἀπατηλοῦ τέχνης καταγοητευομένους

The shared feature is being acted upon through deceptive art, expressed by a passive participle and its accompanying qualification.

The final mixing construction returns to the pattern already established at I.13–15 of the letter and Strom. I.18.1. Here, however, the participle is active: Carpocrates contaminates words by mixing falsehoods into them.

I have not located one Clementine sentence reproducing this entire long sequence. Its components are much better paralleled than its complete architecture.

15. II.9–10 — The Carpocratian doctrine is drawn from that mixture

Compare Strom. I.12.2, where wells are described as τὰ φρέατα ἐξαντλούμενα.

This establishes Clement’s use of the same drawing-out verb in a water metaphor. It is a limited parallel: the letter makes doctrine what is drawn out, with the mixture as its source; Clement’s wells are what is drained. The lexical correspondence should not be promoted into an exact syntactic match. 

16. II.10–12 — Do not yield, do not concede, but deny

The notable feature is the accumulation of impersonal -τέον directives, arranged negatively and then correctively.

Compare Strom. VII.91.3, where Clement prescribes undertaking the labor of investigation rather than abandoning it, using ἐπαποδυτέον … ἀλλ’ οὐ … ἀποστατέον.

This is a close parallel for coordinated verbal adjectives governing an argumentative instruction. It parallels the sentence’s grammatical form; it does not independently parallel the particular instruction to deny something under oath.

17. II.12–13 — Not every truth should be told to everyone

The construction combines an impersonal verbal adjective with two differently functioning universals: everyone as recipient; everything true as content.

Strom. I.13.2 supplies a close distributive formulation: Christ did not disclose to many what did not belong to many, but to the few suited to receive it. The letter turns that distinction into a compact general prescription.

This is stronger as a parallel in quantification and restriction of recipients than as an exact verbal match.

18. II.13–15 — Wisdom speaks through Solomon, followed by an explanatory participle

The structure is scriptural attribution → quotation → participial explanation of what the quotation teaches.

The same proverb appears in Strom. V.18.2:

ἀποκρίνου … τῷ μωρῷ ἐκ τῆς μωρίας αὐτοῦ

Clement then explains how one should address seekers of wisdom through their own intellectual resources. The letter gives the proverb a different explanatory application, concerning concealment.

The exact prooftext and the movement from citation to interpretation are parallel; the interpretation itself differs.

19. II.15–16 — The paired sayings about deprivation and darkness

The construction is a citation-introducing expression followed by two scriptural clauses connected with καί.

Compare the close succession of scriptural sayings in Strom. I.13–14, including the saying about additional gifts to the person who already possesses something. That is a useful comparison for the chaining of prooftexts, but I did not locate Clement independently reproducing this particular pair in this order.

20. II.16–18 — “We” as illuminated children of light

Paed. II.80.1 combines first-person Christian exhortation with the Pauline designation of believers as children of light. Immediately before it, II.79.3 characterizes the enlightened person through a substantivized perfect passive participle.

The letter similarly moves from a collective identification to a participial description explaining that identity. The correspondence is real, but much of the language is inherited from Scripture rather than distinctive to Clement.

21. II.18 — Where the Spirit is, there is freedom

This is the locative correlation οὗ … ἐκεῖ, with a parenthetic citation verb.

The underlying sentence is 2 Corinthians 3:17. I did not verify an independent Clementine reproduction of this exact wording in the texts searched. Clement’s insertion of citation verbs within quotations is readily paralleled—for example in his quotation of Solomon at Strom. V.18—but that does not make the biblical correlative construction a distinctive Clementine parallel.

22. II.18–19 — All things are pure to the pure

Clement quotes the same Titus passage at Strom. III.109.1.

The structure—neuter plural subject, predicate adjective, dative of the persons concerned—is therefore directly attested in his writings. Because both texts quote Titus 1:15, this is evidence of shared scriptural usage rather than an independent specimen of Clement’s sentence-making. 

23. II.19–20 — The promise to answer Theodore from the gospel’s wording

Compare Protrepticus VIII.79.2:

οὐκ ὀκνήσω λέγειν

“I shall not hesitate to say.”

The letter uses precisely this negative future of hesitation + infinitive, adding an initial recipient and a participle explaining the evidential purpose of the answer. This is a close match for its governing construction.

24. II.20–22 — Locating and introducing the longer quotation

Two particularly good parallels occur in Clement’s treatment of opponents.

At Strom. III.28, he abbreviates a scriptural passage with:

καὶ τὰ ἑξῆς ἕως

That is the letter’s same procedure: give the beginning, indicate the omitted continuation, and identify the endpoint.

At Strom. III.9.3, introducing Epiphanes, he writes:

ὧδέ πως ἐπιφέρει κατὰ λέξιν

The letter’s formula differs principally by omitting πως. This is among the closest parallels in the entire letter, both grammatically and in its function within a dispute about teaching.

25. II.23–III.11 — The longer gospel quotation, sentence by sentence

Here the appropriate Clementine controls include both his own narrative prose and the gospel language he quotes. The distinction matters: Quis dives salvetur 42 supplies authorial narrative; chapter 4 supplies an explicit quotation of Mark.

Sentence or narrative unit	Structural comparison with Clement
Arrival at Bethany; a woman whose brother died	Historical present followed by background imperfect and a relative clause. Clement’s narrative in Quis dives 42 uses comparable changes of tense. I found no close independent match for the particular relative construction with a resumptive possessive pronoun.
The woman approaches, bows, and speaks	An aorist participle introduces coordinated actions, ending in historical-present speech. Compare the arrival, looking, and speaking sequence in Quis dives 42.3. The correspondence is ordinary narrative syntax, not a distinctive verbal match.
The disciples rebuke her	A short subject–verb–dative clause. No distinctive Clementine counterpart identified.
Jesus becomes angry and goes with her to the garden	Participial emotion or circumstance preceding a verb of movement. Quis dives 42.10 similarly connects emotional gestures with speech and subsequent movement, but does not reproduce this sentence.
A loud voice is heard from the tomb	Passive aorist, source phrase, and postponed subject. No close independent Clementine match identified.
Jesus approaches and rolls away the stone	An anterior aorist participle precedes the main action. Compare Quis dives 42.11: ἐλθὼν δὲ εἰς τὸ χωρίον … ἁλίσκεται. The basic construction matches, while Clement uses a historical present for the main verb.
He enters, stretches out his hand, and raises the youth, grasping his hand	Participial framing surrounds coordinated finite verbs. Clement likewise accumulates participles around the principal action in Quis dives 42.14–15. The particular hand-and-raising sequence is not independently established there.
The youth looks at him, loves him, and begins to request companionship	The closest correspondence is Quis dives 4.7: ὁ δὲ Ἰησοῦς ἐμβλέψας ἠγάπησεν αὐτόν. The quotation changes the subject from Jesus to the youth. Clement is quoting Mark, so this is a close match within Clement’s writings, but not independent Clementine composition.
They leave the tomb and enter the youth’s house; he was rich	Participial departure followed by arrival, then an explanatory γάρ-clause. Quis dives 4.8 likewise follows narrative action with an explanation of the man’s wealth. Again, the comparator belongs to Clement’s gospel quotation.
After six days Jesus gives an instruction	Initial temporal phrase, aorist verb, dative recipient. No distinctive Clementine sentence parallel identified.
Evening comes; the youth arrives wearing linen	Temporal genitive absolute, historical present, and circumstantial perfect participle. All are compatible with Clement’s narrative grammar, but I did not locate a close sentence combining them in this way.
He remains with Jesus that night	Verb of remaining, accompaniment, and accusative duration. No distinctive Clementine counterpart identified.
Jesus was teaching him the kingdom’s mystery	Explanatory γάρ, imperfect teaching verb, and two accusatives: person taught and subject taught. Clement’s Quis dives 5.2 similarly describes the Savior teaching his followers through divine and mysterious wisdom, but does not reproduce the double-accusative sentence.
Jesus rises and returns across the Jordan	Initial location, aorist participle, and finite movement verb. Comparable movement sequences occur in Quis dives 42; no distinctive independent verbal parallel identified.

The narrative comparisons are available in Quis dives 42.2–15; the particularly close looking-and-loving expression and the wealth explanation are in 4.7–8.

The general participial constructions are consequently much less informative than the specific looking-and-loving correspondence. Several other clauses remain without a verified close Clementine counterpart.

26. III.11–13 — Identifying the passage that follows

The writer returns from quotation to commentary, treating the beginning of the next passage as a substantive introduced by the article.

Compare Clement’s recurring practice of quoting an opening, abbreviating its continuation, and introducing the next textual unit, particularly Strom. III.28 and V.2.

This is a close expository procedure. I have not verified the exact combination of the letter’s opening prepositional phrase, “follows,” and “the whole pericope” elsewhere in Clement.

27. III.13–14 — The disputed “naked with naked” wording is absent

A particularly relevant comparison is Strom. III.93.1. Clement says that a disputed saying is absent from the four transmitted gospels but present in the Gospel according to the Egyptians:

οὐκ ἔχομεν τὸ ῥητόν, ἀλλ’ ἐν τῷ κατ’ Αἰγυπτίους

Both passages identify disputed words as textual objects and adjudicate whether they occur in a particular gospel.

The letter uses passive “is not found”; Clement uses active “we do not have.” This is a strong parallel in the organization of textual argument, rather than an exact grammatical duplicate. 

28. III.14–16 — The second quotation and the two sentences it contains

The introductory sentence again uses a textual landmark followed by a verb meaning “adds.” Its closest established comparator is the quotation procedure in Strom. III.9.3 discussed above.

Within the quotation:

• The women are present at Jericho. The structure is an existential imperfect followed by a coordinated list of people. A relative clause identifying the youth contains both a relative pronoun and a resumptive personal pronoun. I did not locate a close independent Clementine sentence with this particular combination.
• Jesus does not receive them. This is a simple negative transitive clause with the named subject postponed. Nothing in that construction alone provides a distinctive Clementine parallel.

The first sentence’s resumptive relative deserves more attention than the second sentence’s ordinary word order. It should be compared separately from the surrounding epistolary syntax.

29. III.17 — The other allegations both appear false and are false

Compare Paed. II.45.4:

εἶναί τε καὶ φαίνεσθαι γελοῖοι

“To be and to appear ridiculous.”

The shared construction coordinates being and appearing with one predicate applying to both. The letter reverses the order and uses finite verbs with a predicate noun; Clement uses infinitives with a predicate adjective.

This is a genuine structural parallel, although not a complete verbal match. 

30. III.18 — The unfinished introduction to the true interpretation

The surviving text is only an expanded noun phrase. Its most secure parallel is Clement’s repeated use of κατὰ τὴν ἀληθῆ φιλοσοφίαν to qualify his exposition, including the close of Strom. I.182 and the opening of VI.1.

Here the correspondence concerns an attributive prepositional phrase defining the standard according to which an exposition is conducted. The letter coordinates that qualification with an adjective describing the interpretation as true.

Because the text breaks off before its predicate, we cannot compare the completed sentence’s syntax or determine how its opening μέν was subsequently balanced. 

I Am So Much Happier After Giving Up Participating in Discussion Boards

Oh my God. A friend noted there was this weird conversation going on at a place I used to frequent. I have to mention it because it epitomizes the emptiness I left.

My reason for leaving was simple. The site owner deliberately provokes "ambiguity" "conflict" "I am not sure" behavior to stimulate traffic at his site. In common parlance (or what used to be common parlance in the 1850s) he "plays the harlot" in order to stimulate participants. 

My dog does this at the dog park. I really have one of the cutest dogs on the planet so my comparison of my dog with the site owner should flatter Peter Kirby. But I've noticed that my dog deliberately greets and fawns over other dogs owners in order to provoke a reaction from his companion canine. 

I think it cute in Tiger, not so cute in a "serious" discussion board. 

Anyway Peter's "taking seriously" of certain "anachronisms" with the Letter to Theodore - specifically an attributive adjective modifying its cognate abstract noun - is just bullshit. Clement, Stromata 6.12.97.1 has:

καὶ εἰκόνα τῆς ἰδίας ἰδιότητος ἐποίησεν αὐτόν
“and he made him an image of his own distinctive nature.”

So just fuck right off. This is just a ruse on his part to "stimulate" discussion. The same old same old. I hope the coffee he bought at Starbucks was worth it. 

The never-ending controversy over Secret Mark increasingly resembles a marriage in which one spouse can always find room for criticism. Answer one complaint and another takes its place; explain the offending words and the objection shifts to how they were phrased. In a recent discussion, the Letter of Clement’s reference to “true truth” begins as evidence of modern philosophical perspectivism. When ancient parallels enter the conversation, attention shifts to the precise Greek adjective–noun combination. Each objection deserves consideration, but so does the movement between them. What, exactly, is supposed to be modern here: the idea, the wording, or the English translation? Before bringing Nietzsche into the marriage, we might let Clement speak.

The discussion on the Early Writings forum begins with an argument reproduced from Craig Evans, drawing on Peter Jeffery: the Letter’s “true truth” allegedly reflects a modern conception of truth foreign to antiquity. Later contributions concentrate on whether the precise Greek expression, ἀληθοῦς ἀληθείας, occurs elsewhere in ancient literature.

These are different questions. A phrase can be unusual without expressing an unfamiliar idea. It can also be unattested elsewhere in the surviving literature without being anachronistic. The distinction becomes particularly important when Clement’s undisputed writings supply close parallels for the thought under examination.

Consider Stromata 1.17.85:

ἐν δὲ τοῖς ψεύδεσι καὶ ἀληθῆ τινα ἔλεγον οἱ ψευδοπροφῆται

“Among their falsehoods, the false prophets also said some true things.”

Clement proceeds to invoke Hermas, explaining that a false prophet can speak true words while serving a destructive purpose. Accurate statements do not automatically establish the authority or truthfulness of the person delivering them.

This is immediately relevant to the Letter’s warning against agreeing with the Carpocratians merely because they say something true. Clement’s undisputed work already recognizes the underlying problem: genuine material can occur within deceptive teaching. The recipient must judge more than the isolated accuracy of a statement.

The Letter itself explains its apparently paradoxical assertion that not all true things are truth. Immediately afterward, it states:

συγκεκραμένα γὰρ τἀληθῆ τοῖς πλάσμασι παραχαράσσεται

“For true things, mixed with fabrications, are falsified.”

The problem is identified in the verbs: true material has been mixed with inventions and adulterated in transmission. Its presence does not authenticate the resulting account.

We encounter this distinction constantly. An account can contain accurate quotations, correctly named individuals, and authentic events while arranging them into a misleading story. Recognizing that possibility does not require us to believe that truth is socially constructed. It requires us to distinguish the truth of particular details from the truthfulness of the account containing them.

Litwa’s objection, quoted in the discussion, treats the Letter as asserting that some true things are untrue. But this interpretation needs to address the author’s explanation about mixture. The Letter does not leave its maxim suspended in philosophical abstraction. It applies it to the transmission of material about Mark’s Gospel.

The distinction between the plural “true things” and the abstract noun “truth” makes that reading possible. The following sentence makes it contextually persuasive. The presence of true material does not guarantee truthful transmission.

There is another difficulty with the suggestion that the Letter’s hierarchy of truth sounds modern. Clement explicitly distinguishes forms of truth in Stromata 1.20.97–98. After discussing geometry, music, and philosophy, he writes:

χωρίζεται δὲ ἡ Ἑλληνικὴ ἀλήθεια τῆς καθ’ ἡμᾶς

“Greek truth is distinguished from our truth.”

He adds that they share the same name while differing in the extent of knowledge, the authority of demonstration, and divine power.

Clement’s belief in the unity of truth therefore coexists with distinctions among the ways people possess and understand it. Calling something “truth” does not, for him, erase differences between philosophical knowledge and divine instruction. A claim that such distinctions belong to modern esotericism must first explain their explicit presence in Clement.

The strongest comparison comes from Stromata 6.15.122–126. There Clement speaks of:

ἡ ὄντως ἀλήθεια

“Genuine truth,” or “the truth that really is.”

He connects this truth with the teaching of the Son and the power of faith. Shortly afterward, he considers heretics who speak of one God and praise Christ, yet concludes:

κατὰ περίληψιν λέγουσιν, οὐ πρὸς ἀλήθειαν

“They speak in general terms, not in accordance with truth.”

His explanation concerns their understanding of God and Christ. The familiar religious language does not guarantee agreement with the teaching transmitted through the prophets. The same chapter then discusses accommodation for salvation and the concealment of scriptural mysteries from unsuitable hearers.

This continuous argument deserves more attention than it receives. Genuine truth, faith, misleading religious statements, selective communication, and concealed mysteries occur together in undisputed Clement. We do not have to assemble them from unrelated authors separated by centuries.

Andrew Criddle’s suggestion that emphatic truth language associated with secrecy sounds characteristically modern encounters a substantial obstacle here. Clement himself supplies an ancient setting for that combination. This does not settle every question about the Letter’s treatment of secrecy, but it prevents the combination from functioning as a self-evident chronological marker.

The appeal to perspectivism is also difficult to reconcile with the Letter’s actual argument. The author assigns authority to truth according to faith and rejects the priority of what appears true according to human opinions. He asserts a governing standard. Whatever one thinks of that standard, identifying it with a denial of objective truth requires an argument that the phrase “true truth” cannot supply on its own.

Peter Kirby’s examination of the proposed parallel from Plato makes a legitimate correction. In Theaetetus 162a, the question is whether Protagoras’ Truth is true. That does not furnish the same attributive construction found in the Letter. There is no reason to pretend otherwise.

But conceding that point does not establish anachronism. The reported searches show that the exact expression has not been located in the material searched. That is relevant to its rarity and potentially to an assessment of style. Establishing a modern date requires an additional explanation of why the expression belongs to a later linguistic or intellectual environment.

Nor can the English translation carry that burden. Finding “true truth” in modern English does not establish that the Greek was composed under its influence. The suggestion that a forger worked on Greek and English simultaneously remains a proposed reconstruction, not something demonstrated by the two Greek words.

The positive evidence from Clement must still be weighed. He acknowledges true statements within false prophecy. He distinguishes Greek truth from Christian truth despite their shared name. He speaks of genuine truth in connection with faith, and he discusses concealed mysteries within the same argument. These passages provide a recognizable Clementine setting for the Letter’s language.

They do not prove that Clement wrote the Letter. A later imitator could have understood Clement’s thought. But that possibility is a different claim from the assertion that the thought is alien to Clement or necessarily modern. An argument for forgery must preserve those distinctions if it is to remain an argument rather than an accumulation of suspicions.

There will always be room for another criticism of Secret Mark. The question is whether the criticism establishes what it claims. Here, the exact wording may remain unusual, but the conceptual setting has substantial ancient parallels in the very author whose name the Letter bears. Before concluding that Clement could not have written it, we should give his surviving Greek more weight than the unfamiliar sound of its English translation.

So happy to go back to my job, not back to responding there.