Mark opens his account of Jesus with “the beginning of the gospel of Jesus the Christ” (Ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ). Although modern readers often associate the term “gospel” here with the now long-established genre by the same name, Mark clearly elaborates what he means (at least in part) in what follows

Whereas Luke and Matthew are literary products of gospel reading, only the Johannine corpus demonstrates within the canon how a gospel was read by a specific network of early Christian communities. The Johannine Epistles (likely penned in a context later than that of the Fourth Gospel) affirm, clarify, expand, modify, and in some cases even omit key themes emphasized by the evangelist. This unique intra-canonical reception of John affords the earliest model of an early Christian community’s gospel reading. After analyzing the broad reading dynamics imposed by the Johannine literature’s placement in the sequence of the canon, this chapter explores the interpretive practices of the Elder in order to discern a Johannine theology of textuality, writing, and gospel reading.

Perhaps the earliest canonical gospel reader was the Apostle Paul. As a Jewish interpreter of Scripture, his conception of “gospel” was informed by a Christological understanding of both “God” as the one who rescues and “Israel” as the community rescued. Understandably, one regular feature of contemporary scholarship on Paul, especially in the English-speaking world, is reference to God as the “God of Israel.” This phrase becomes a shorthand for the commendable conviction that Paul needs to be understood within his own Jewish identity and context – shaped by his engagement with Scripture. It comes as a surprise to recognize, however, that Paul himself never uses the phrase “God of Israel” (or any of its equivalents, such as “God of Abraham,” “God of our fathers”). In Romans 3:29, he comes close, only to reject the identification of God as “God of Jews alone.” Such nomenclature does appear in other early Jewish and Christian texts, but not in Paul. As Paul “reads” the gospel, the God who “sent his Son” and “raised Jesus our Lord from the dead” is also the God who made promises to Abraham and called Israel itself into being. Yet Paul’s “reading” does not include (intentionally or unintentionally) a naming of this figure as the “God of Israel.” That silence reflects the argument, especially in Romans, that God created Israel and sustains Israel: Israel is the “Israel of God” (a phrase Paul does use). In other words, Paul “reads” the gospel backward: it is the Christ event that reveals Israel’s history and significance.

This essay will examine readings of an influential gospel motif over the first two Christian centuries. Should Christian generosity be extended to all, without condition, and should that “all” include even those who are hostile? If so, why? The chapter starts with the materials that had reached written form by the end of the first century (in Matthew 5, Luke 6, and Didache 1), focusing on the malleability of this tradition, in its various forms and with its various rationales. As a second step, it examines the pragmatics of these instructions. Starting from these three texts, but pursuing their themes into later (second-century) materials, it notes the practical difficulties regarding (a) whether this generosity is too easily abused, and (b) whether, or for how long, such generosity can be sustained. The significance of this material for the outward momentum (mission) of the church will be highlighted. As a third step, it examines the theological interpretation of these instructions, and the various ways they are connected to the character of God, or the achievement of Christ, including the ways they become integral to the “gospel.” Finally, it indicates the value of crossing the canonical boundary, the importance of reception as an active and creative phenomenon, and the theological aspects of interpretation.

In his Foreword to this volume, Kevin J. Vanhoozer has helpfully drawn attention to Francis Watson’savowedly theological work in the 1990s and 2000s. My aim here is to take up the story from there and focus in particular on his more recent work, on canonical and noncanonical Gospels. This field is evident most magnificently in his monograph Gospel Writing, but has continued to be discussed in a number of edited volumes and essays: a fascinating conference hosted by Francis in Durham, for example, produced the book Connecting Gospels.1 Its subtitle has been something of a motto for Francis’ recent work: Beyond the Canonical/Non-Canonical Divide. Francis’ comparative work on canonical and noncanonical Gospels can also be seen as a study of reception, as for example in his analysis of the Apocalypse of Peter’s rewriting and development of Matthew’s Olivet discourse.2 In that spirit, I will in this Afterword take the Gospel of Philip as a case study of Gospel reading – first, as a text that engages in Gospel reading; second, as it is read as Gospel in antiquity; and finally, how it might affect our reading of canonical Gospels.

The Eusebian canon tables offered a detailed exegetical guide for formal gospel reading that is active and comparative. Though little evidence has been available for understanding how these tables were used by Greek writers, Matthew Crawford presents his discovery of a letter by Severus of Antioch who used Eusebius’ complicated system to help a colleague understand a Matthean variant of the piercing of Jesus’ side. Severus’ exegetical instructions are significant in demonstrating how gospel reading became a formal ecclesial practice aided by sophisticated tools and assumptions about the Fourfold Gospel in the Christian canon.

Chapter II identifies the first readers of the New Testament gospels in their social and economic environment. Who were the people who met to read and study the accounts of the life of Jesus of Nazareth, who owned or had access to these manuscripts, and who were able to read these texts? What use did they make of these texts in their daily lives and to what extent did these writings influence their own prose? Knowing more about the early readers sheds light on how contemporaries in the second and third centuries CE understood and interpreted these New Testament texts. What associations, memories or feelings did the stories of the life of Jesus elicit in them? Which elements of these accounts did they consider ordinary or exceptional—potentially contrary to those a modern reader would identify?