The opening verses of the Gospel of Luke (Luke 1:1-4) are a fascinating—and often overlooked—admission of something that feels strikingly close to forgery. Consider the text:
“Forasmuch as many have taken in hand to set forth in order a declaration of those things which are most surely believed among us, Even as they delivered them unto us, which from the beginning were eyewitnesses, and ministers of the word; It seemed good to me also, having had perfect understanding of all things from the very first, to write unto thee in order, most excellent Theophilus, That thou mightest know the certainty of those things, wherein thou hast been instructed.”
At first glance, these words sound like the humble words of a writer, possibly Theophilus of Antioch the purported author of the Gospel of Luke, simply compiling information. But if we look deeper, particularly at the historical context, they seem to carry a different tone—one of strategic positioning. The Gospel of Luke‘s author essentially opens by admitting that he is reworking accounts written by others. In particular, we know that the author of Luke heavily relies on the Gospel of Mark and the Gospel of Matthew, which raises questions about the integrity of this project from the start.
The “Faux Gospel” Problem
Why would the author of Luke need to justify or explain why he is compiling yet another gospel narrative? The mention of “many” who have undertaken this task implies that there were already numerous circulating accounts of Jesus’s life, leaving us to wonder why the author of Luke needed to produce another one.
What makes this more intriguing is that our Marcionite gospel, the Evangelicon, or the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ, is similar in many respects to the Gospel of Luke. Catholic Church Fathers accused Marcion of corrupting the true gospels to produce his gospel, but this raises an interesting question: if the Gospel of Luke itself admits to being built on earlier narratives, is it really that different from what the Catholic Church Fathers accused Marcion of Sinope of supposedly doing? One might even argue that the author of Luke is providing a sanitized, orthodox version of earlier, more radical teachings, essentially engaging in the same process of ‘corruption’ but in reverse—shaping the tradition to fit an orthodox narrative.
The Marcionite “Apostolic” Tradition
Marcion of Sinope referred to his canon as ‘apostolic,’ but he used this term differently than Irenaeus and the later orthodox tradition. For us Marcionites, ‘apostolic’ means directly tied to the Apostle Paul, our central apostle. The Apostle Paul, in our eyes, was the only legitimate interpreter of Christ’s message. But for Irenaeus, ‘apostolic’ took on a new meaning: it came to describe things from those who heard the apostles preach – a subcategory of witnesses or witnesses of a secondary order of importance. Irenaeus redefined ‘apostolic’ to create a hierarchical structure of authority – it allowed him to downgrade us Marcionites and our gospel, which was always deeply rooted in the Apostle Paul, by making ‘apostolic’ a broader category that simply required some connection back to the Twelve Apostles. This shift in terminology was crucial because it allowed Irenaeus to dismiss us Marcionites and our one true gospel as a false tradition despite our legitimate assertion that it is ‘apostolic.’ Under this new definition, figures like Mark and Luke became ‘second-class’ witnesses, not true apostles themselves but followers or interpreters of the real apostles.
This leads to a fascinating point about Luke’s introduction. By admitting that other gospels preceded his and that he merely provides an orderly account, the author of Luke acknowledges that his gospel is part of a broader tradition, not an eyewitness account. And what if we Marcionites are right in claiming that our gospel was older and more authentic? What if the Gospel of Luke is, in fact, a reaction to—or even a rewriting of—earlier texts like our Marcionite Evangelicon?
Apostolic Authority as a Tool of Disparagement
What Luke’s introduction does, knowingly or not, is participate in this more significant battle for control over Christian tradition. Marcionites claim our gospel was apostolic because it came from the Apostle Paul. Irenaeus, in contrast, invented the notion of ‘apostolic tradition’ that referred to the disciples of Jesus and the disciples of the disciples. This shift allowed Irenaeus to delegitimize Marcionites, casting us as latecomers who had corrupted the original message, even though we always claimed the exact opposite. Luke’s introductory verses seem to implicitly align with this strategy by acknowledging the existence of multiple versions of the gospel but positioning itself as the ‘correct’ version, the one that would ensure those who read it understood the ‘truth.’
In sum, Luke 1:1-4 offers more than just an introduction; it’s an ideological statement wrapped in the language of humility. It is an acknowledgment that multiple versions of the gospel existed—and, in doing so, it walks the fine line between claiming authenticity and admitting forgery. For us Marcionite Christians, who believe our gospel is the accurate apostolic account, Luke’s introduction reads like an explicit denial of their tradition. And for us, reading this text centuries later, we have to ask whether the author of Luke’s attempt to provide a ‘secure’ and ‘orderly’ account is an orthodox reworking of a more radical Christian message that we Marcionites initially tried to preserve almost two millennia ago.
