posits a Syrian provenance.42 In the case of the Ascension of Isaiah, these similarities include the absence of a midwife during the actual birth (Prot. Jas. 19:12–16; cf. Ascen. Isa. 11:14) and Mary’s virginitas post partum (Prot. Jas. 20:1–3; cf. Ascen. Isa. 11:10). Other correspondences between these two texts include the reference to Mary’s Davidic descent (Prot. Jas. 10:4; cf. Ascen. Isa. 11:2), Joseph’s depiction as a carpenter (Prot. Jas. 9:1; cf. Ascen. Isa. 11:2)43 and the reference to and use of lots or “portions” (Prot. Jas. 9:7, 10:7–8; cf. Ascen. Isa. 11:3).44
Another literary source that strengthens the case for Syria is Ignatius of Antioch’s letter to the Ephesians (19.1), which also attests to Mary’s virginity in partu, albeit it is only implied in that giving birth too did not nullify her status as virgin: “the virginity of Mary and her giving birth eluded the ruler of this age, likewise also the death of the Lord—three mysteries of a cry which were done in the stillness of God.”45 The Odes of Solomon, another text of Syrian origin, shares with both the Ascension of Isaiah and the Protevangelium the view that no midwife was present and that Mary seemed to suffer no pain during the delivery of the child (19:6–9). Though literary dependency between the texts may be difficult to prove, the parallels between the texts are too close to be mere coincidences and may suggest a common provenance.
If one takes into consideration the text’s overarching themes and concerns, Syria continues to be a leading contender for place of origin. Anti-docetic and anti-Marcionite views, for example, are prominent themes in sources of Syrian provenance. The Protevangelium’s detailed description of Mary’s pregnant body (12:7, 13:1), descriptions of physical discomfort (17:6–7) coupled with her nursing of Jesus (19:16), and a very corporeal gynecological examination (20:1–2) can be convincingly read as a response to docetic claims that regarded Jesus’ body as semblance (as Irenaeus taught of Marcion’s beliefs: Haer 4.33.2.5) and likened Mary’s experience of childbirth “as water through a tube” (Irenaeus on Valentinus: Haer. 1.7.2 and 3.11.3). Additionally, while Marcion’s docetic ideas are only known to us from his opponents’ writings, there is scholarly consensus that his canon excluded the first four chapters of Luke.46 This rejection of Jesus’ conception, genealogy, baptism, and temptation as well as information about his parents and the prediction of his birth (and John’s) could be seen as an attempt to sever all human connections and Jewish roots from Jesus. Such as position might readily be countered by the Protevangelium’s massive expansion of Mary’s upbringing and emphatic Davidic ties.
Additionally, the general Jewish-Christian milieu of Syria is consistent with the presentation of continued Jewish practices and customs in the Protevangelium. In particular, Torah observances especially related to the temple and concern for biblical law (especially purity regulations and dietary restrictions), fit in well with the kind of sentiments held by Paul, Matthew, and Ignatius on the appropriate relationship between Judaism and Christianity.47 These three writers, among others, attest to the vehement debates and the complicated relationship between Judaism and Christianity in the early Christian centuries. Some firmly rejected the fluidity between Jewish and Christian traditions and the continued Jewish observances held by some who professed Christ; precisely that same fluidity is promoted within the Protevangelium.48 Thus while a Syrian locale cannot be determined with absolute certainty, it is a highly plausible proposition and presently the most sensible conclusion.
Relationship to Judaism
As mentioned above, the Protevangelium’s relationship to Judaism is probably the most highly contested issue related to the text’s origins, as made evident by the various waves in scholarship for and against a Jewish connection. Early studies on the Protevangelium generally assumed a Jewish milieu for the text given its frequent use and deep knowledge of the Septuagint. Not only are names and characters drawn from portrayals of famous figures—including Joachim in Susanna 1–4 and Hannah in 1 Samuel 1:1–28—but Anna’s and Joachim’s characterizations exhibit clear parallels with the biblical barren couples Sarah and Abraham and Hannah and Elkannah.49 Van Stempvoort has argued that the stories of these biblical matriarchs and other Hellenistic Jewish sources including Susanna, Tobit, and Judith played a significant role in the crafting of Mary’s character in the Protevangelium. Moreover, van Stempvoort writes that the text’s tone, thought, language, usage, and motifs all point to the Septuagint as a source.50 Cameron makes a similar appeal, describing the Protevangelium as being entirely “steeped in the language of the Septuagint” not only in terms of its use of individual words and phrases, but also in style.51
In line with de Strycker, who also supported a Jewish milieu for the text, Smid was so persuaded by the parallels he saw between the text and the Septuagint that he offered a detailed proposal for the profile of the author: someone of Jewish descent born after the destruction of the Jerusalem temple in 70 CE or someone who was highly influenced by and/or had extensive knowledge of the Septuagint and the Hebrew Bible.52 Like Cameron and van Stempvoort, Smid saw the Protevangelium as heavily couched in the same thought and vocabulary of the Septuagint. To make his point, Smid notes various examples in which unique Septuagintal phrases like “the great day of the Lord” (ἡ ἡμέρα κυρίου ἡ μεγάλη; 1:4) and practices like the bitter water test administered by the temple priest (5:1) are used at pivotal points in the narrative.53
However, when these Jewish elements were scrutinized further, many of the parallels found in the Protevangelium did not seem to line up as closely with the Hebrew Bible in terms of its literature, traditions, rituals, and customs. Cullmann,54 Elliott,55 and Hock,56 among others,57 stress that a number of the Jewish traditions depicted in the Protevangelium are distorted representations of Jewish practices, including Joachim’s rejection at the temple because of his childlessness (1:5), Mary’s upbringing at the temple (7:1—9:10), and Joseph’s travels to Judea from Bethlehem (since Bethlehem is already in Judea) (21:1) as either being unknown practices or a misunderstanding of Jewish customs.58 With regard to misunderstanding Jewish traditions, the bitter water test (16:3) is perhaps the most widely referenced. Numbers 5:11–31, in which such a test is given to a wife who is suspected of adultery, is cited as the source of this scene. Upon drinking the bitter water and swearing an oath, two outcomes are possible to determine the loyalty of the accused wife: if she is innocent, nothing will happen and she will be able to bear children, but if she is guilty, she will experience immediate physical pain, whereby her uterus will drop and her womb will discharge. The punishment for swearing falsely, therefore, is the removal of the accused woman’s ability to have children. Elliott notes that the bitter water scene in the Protevangelium does not correspond with the test described in Numbers as both Mary and Joseph are required to take the test to determine whether the two consummated the marriage (a marriage arranged specifically by the same priests, no less).59 Numbers also offers other details including the tousling of the woman’s hair and a recitation of a curse formula. The intention and details of the bitter water test in Numbers, according to Elliott, are simply not present in the Protevangelium.
Michael Mach also dismisses the possibility of a Jewish or Jewish-Christian origin for the Protevangelium but for different reasons.60 Mach argues that etymological wordplays that have been used to justify possible connections to Judaism are in fact expressions that have been lifted from the Septuagint or the NT and cannot be used as evidence for any real connection between the text and Judaism.61 In addition, he is not persuaded by the argument that Mary’s appointment to weaving the temple veil has a halakhic basis, or rather knowledge of Jewish customs, because of the emphasis on her exceptional purity and virginity as the reason for her selection. He argues instead that this detail is not a uniquely Jewish custom given that various temples in Athens also required the purity of all workers.62
Those willing to see some possibility of a Jewish background for the text have reasonably looked for other expressions of early Judaism beyond simply the Septuagint and Hebrew Bible. Taking advantage of the fact that Judaism was highly diverse and that the formation of Jewish and Christian identities was still very fluid in the first few centuries CE, such scholars have contributed to new trends that do not so easily dismiss the Judaism question. W. S. Vorster, for example, explores the representation of the Jews in the text to nuance the approach for understanding
