The Epistle of Barnabas: A Witness to the Parting of the Ways

Foreign greetings, sons and daughters, in the name of the Lord who has loved us in peace. Seeing that God's righteous acts toward you are so great and rich, I rejoice with an unbounded and overflowing joy over your blessed and glorious spirits, so deeply implanted is the grace of the spiritual gift that you have received. Therefore, I, who also am hoping to be saved, congratulate myself all the more because among you I truly see that the Spirit has been poured out upon you from the riches of the Lord's fountain. How overwhelmed I was on your account by the long-desired sight of you. Being convinced of this, therefore, and conscious of the fact that I said many things in your midst, I know that the Lord traveled with me in the way of righteousness. Above all, I too am compelled to do this, to love you more than my own soul, because great faith and love dwell in you through the hope of this life, through the hope of his life. Accordingly, since I have concluded that if I care enough about you to share something of what I have received, I will be rewarded for having ministered to such spirits, I have hastened to send you a brief note so that along with your faith, you might have perfect knowledge as well. (Barnabas. Epistle of Barnabas 1.1–5, in The Apostolic Fathers, 3rd ed., edited and translated by Michael W. Holmes. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007.)

That is the beautiful opening of the Epistle of Barnabas from The Apostolic Fathers (Michael Holmes edition). The story of Christianity’s separation from Judaism is complex. No single event explains it; rather, it unfolded through a series of turning points. Historians call this process “the parting of the ways.

Before the Bar Kokhba revolt there was a forgotten conflict called the Kitos War, also called the Diaspora Revolt.

Think of it this way: the Jewish people were drawn into three major conflicts with the Roman Empire. Each one ended in disaster for Israel, and each one deepened the divide between the Jewish people and the emerging Christian movement. Most people know about the first revolt (66–73 CE, ending with the destruction of Jerusalem, the Temple, and Masada) and the third revolt (the Bar Kokhba revolt, 132–135 CE, ending with the fall of Betar). But very few know about the second revolt, the Kitos War, which unfolded in the early 2nd century.

This middle revolt set the stage for Bar Kokhba. It concluded with Emperor Hadrian making a promise to rebuild the Temple — a promise he would later break when he instead erected a temple to Jupiter on the site. That betrayal ignited the final revolt. For a decade or more, however, the Jewish people lived with hope and optimism that Jerusalem and the Temple would be restored. It is in that very context that the Epistle of Barnabas was written.

Scholars date the letter to this era precisely because it refers to plans for the Temple’s rebuilding. Though anonymous, tradition ascribed it to Barnabas, Paul’s traveling companion. Internal evidence, however, makes clear that the writer was not an apostle but a later Christian teacher — perhaps “Barnabas of Alexandria” — writing with the authority and style of an apostolic letter. The author appears to have been a Greek-speaking Christian with knowledge of Judea and early Jewish traditions.

Although it’s called an “epistle,” it is more of a theological tract or homily than a personal letter. It lacks the personal greetings, travel details, and community-specific issues found in Paul’s letters. The tone is didactic, almost sermonic — the author speaks with authority, aiming to reshape how his audience reads Scripture.

The Epistle of Barnabas itself is not a unified composition but a patchwork. It draws upon earlier Jewish-Christian traditions, even quoting or adapting sources such as the Didache. Barnabas 18–20 contains a version of the Two Ways tradition (the way of light vs. the way of darkness). This material also appears in the Didache and may derive from Jewish catechetical instruction. It shows that Barnabas preserves authentic apostolic-era teaching, even if the author uses it for his own polemical agenda. Some of its descriptions of Yom Kippur rituals, for example, must have originated from Jewish believers still familiar with Temple practice. In that sense, the epistle preserves early apostolic traditions like buried fossils — ancient, genuine fragments caught inside a later polemical framework.

Yet the overriding thrust of the letter is unmistakable: it denounces the Jewish people, their Torah, their Temple, and their covenant. Chapter 16 makes this clear when the writer mocks Jewish hope in the rebuilding of the Temple, insisting instead that the true Temple is spiritual and heavenly. Barnabas is one of the earliest witnesses to the radical allegorization of the Torah. The author interprets Torah commandments as allegories pointing only to Messiah, stripping them of literal meaning. Example: The dietary laws are reinterpreted as moral lessons (pigs = people who pray only when needy; rabbits = sexual promiscuity). Circumcision is declared invalid and replaced with “circumcision of the heart.” This method influenced Alexandrian allegory and early Christian exegesis, setting a trajectory that would dominate Christian biblical interpretation. Circumcision, dietary laws, festivals — all are redefined figuratively, while those who practice them are condemned as deceived by an evil angel (who the Jewish people call God by the way). Judaism, he insists, never had validity. The covenant belongs solely to Christians.

This radical anti-Torah, anti-Jewish reinterpretation found wide acceptance. Early church leaders like Origen and Clement of Alexandria read Barnabas as authentic. It was copied alongside the Gospels and Epistles, read in congregations, and treated as Scripture by many. As such, it became another milestone in the widening gulf between Christianity and its Jewish roots.

And yet — despite its polemics — the discerning reader can still find genuine echoes of the apostolic faith embedded within it. The Epistle of Barnabas is not the voice of the apostles, but it is a witness to the growing Gentile Christian identity of the second century — and to the tragic rise of replacement theology.

Today, we are blessed to live in a time when the Jewish foundations of our faith are being rediscovered. And so, even as we read this difficult text, we can sift through its layers and recover what is good.

Barnabas 15 contains an early millennial calculation: the “six days of creation” = 6,000 years of history, followed by a 1,000-year Sabbath rest (the Millennium). This text was important for early chiliasm (millennial expectation), later picked up by church fathers like Papias, Irenaeus, and Justin Martyr.

The epistle was included in Codex Sinaiticus (4th century) right after the Book of Revelation — showing how highly some communities regarded it. Church Fathers such as Clement of Alexandria and Origen cite it as Scripture or nearly so. Eventually, it was excluded from the canon but still shaped early Christian theology, especially the development of replacement theology.

Barnabas reflects the tipping point where Gentile Christianity moves beyond simply distinguishing itself from Judaism to opposing and condemning it outright. It doesn’t just say “the Church replaces Israel.” It goes further: Judaism never had validity; the Jews misunderstood Scripture from the beginning. This radicalization influenced later church attitudes toward Jews and Torah observance, with long-term consequences in Christian history.

Barnabas is not authoritative Scripture, but it shines light on the early 2nd century — how Christians were reading the Bible, redefining identity, and drifting from their Jewish roots. It helps modern believers understand the historical roots of replacement theology and why recovering the Jewish foundations of faith is so important today.

For all its flaws, the Epistle ends on a call to obedience and hope, a reminder that even within a polemical text, truth can still be discerned. Let us close with words from the epistle’s own conclusion:

“It is good therefore to learn all the Lord’s righteous requirements that are written here and to walk in them. For the one who does these things will be glorified in the kingdom of God. And the one who chooses their opposites will perish together with his or her works. This is why there is a resurrection. This is why there is recompense… Farewell, children of love and peace. May the Lord of glory and all grace be with your spirit.” (Barnabas. Epistle of Barnabas 21.1, 9, 21. In The Apostolic Fathers, 3rd ed., edited and translated by Michael W. Holmes, 400–403. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007.)