Simonianism is often described as a Gnostic sect that had been established by the legendary Simon Magus. It turns out this isn’t quite the case, even though this movement later acquired Gnostic traits, and early on had been associated with Simon. As with so many of these movements, we know of Simonianism mostly from the pens of Christians who opposed it, so we need to carefully consider their testimony.
Although Christian writers and heresy-hunters started describing Simonianism in the mid-2nd century and later, it’s probable this movement is much older than that, likely originating in the 1st century. It may have been originally of Samaritan origin but influenced by John the Baptist. In this regard — and at this early stage — comparisons to the Elkasaites may be apt.
Three different early leaders are connected with this movement: Dositheus, Menander, and Simon (for whom it would later be named). All of them were Samaritans. As far as is known, this movement was related to that of John the Baptist and held to some Hellenistic notions in addition to its foundations in Samaritanism and Judaism.
It’s worth taking a moment to keep something in mind about Samaritans. They had a religion of their own, but they were not pagans as such — even if Jews (then, or maybe even now) may think of them that way. Theirs is an Abrahamic religion, too. Their sacred texts include the five books of the Torah, but they have some works of their own in addition.
As one might expect, the Samaritans’ religion was very similar to that of Jews in the 1st century CE. The chief difference between them, and the source of the schism that separated Samaritans from Jews, is their chief holy site. For Jews it was the Temple in Jerusalem, but Samaritans held it to be the summit of Mount Gerizim (now in the West Bank).
Of note, Samaritans considered themselves survivors of the destruction of the northern Kingdom of Israel at the hands of the Assyrians in 720 CE.
Until the last decades of the 2nd century BCE, Samaritans had both a town and temple there, but it had been destroyed when the kingdom of Judea seized control of Samaria. In spite of the religious schism that had separated the two peoples, they’d lived for centuries alongside one another. It was after Judea’s conquest and razing of the Gerizim temple that hard feelings developed, on both sides.
In spite of this enmity, both peoples were under the Roman regime by the start of the 1st century. Both had already been under Hellenistic influences since Alexander’s conquest, and both were affected by Roman rule at that time, so it was natural that some notions would bleed from one to the other, or vice versa.
Simon is a familiar figure to Christians, having been mentioned in Acts of the Apostles (specifically, 8:9-24). There he’s described as a sorcerer who’d already hoodwinked the people of Samaria and they’d fallen under his spell — literally. But the apostle Philip then converted the Samaritans to worship of Jesus, and that included Simon. He watched as the apostles Peter and John baptized the Samaritans in the Holy Spirit, then asked them how he could obtain that same power (it’s implied he viewed it as a sorcerous spell that he could pay them to teach him). They rebuked him; he apparently repented, since he then asked them to pray for him.
That’s the extent of what’s said about Simon Magus in the New Testament canon.
More is said of him by later Christian writers, starting with Justin Martyr and Irenaeus. What they relate is that the apostles cast Simon out of the Christian community; he ventured to Rome where he professed to be something of a Messiah, himself. He also returned to his sorcerous ways, performing enough wonders that the Romans declared him a deity.
Justin and Irenaeus also tell us Simon took up with a woman in Rome named Helen, and with her developed something of a mythology. Later Christian “heresy-hunters” provide some details of this mythology, and it’s based on their reports — as well as further elaborations — that Simonianism came to be viewed as a form of Gnosticism.
You may have noticed that what Justin and Irenaeus say about Simon doesn’t align well with what Acts tells us, which is that Simon apparently was accorded with the apostles. Keeping in mind that Justin was a Samaritan himself, it’s possible he confused the Simon Magus of the 1st century with another Samaritan Simon better-known to him in the early 2nd century (the name wasn’t uncommon in the Levant). Or, Justin attributed to Simon something that happened with a later head of the movement.
The originator of Simonianism appears to have been one Dositheus, who was succeeded by a Simon, who was in turn succeeded, or set aside, by one Menander. All of this presumably took place at some point in the 1st century when the movement was essentially still a Baptist/Samaritan cult. It is the Simon in the middle of this sequence who appears to have been referred to in Acts. His request that the apostles pray for him — and the implication that he returned to the good graces of the early Church after being rebuked — suggests a possibility the original movement was partly or wholly subsumed by Christianity.
In this scenario it appears to be Menander who led this movement back away from Christianity (or was cast out, as Justin had claimed about Simon). If this is the case, then it’s he who likely came up with the mythology which eventually developed into a Gnostic sect. Menander had also reportedly been a teacher of Basilides of Alexandria, the founder of an early Gnostic sect.
It’s from Hippolytus of Rome, who wrote his own massive catalog of heresies in the early 3rd century, that we get more details about the later Gnostic version of Simonianism. By his time, the figure of Helen has taken on greater importance. She was seen as a manifestation of the original, primeval Εννοια (Ennoia, meaning “concept, sensation, thought”) who then spawned some angels or αιωνες (aiōnes or “aeons”) that subsequently created the physical world. These same aeons also trapped Ennoia in a physical female body inside the physical world, thus forcing her to manifest as Helen (among other agents).
Varying reports assert that Simonians practiced magic or theurgy (i.e. using one’s knowledge of the divine to enact what might otherwise be thought of as magic). Like many “heretical” groups, they were also accused of licentiousness and depravity. The extent to which this may have happened is an open question; Simonian morality wasn’t known to be equivalent to that of the Carpocratians (for instance).
Simonianism as described by Hippolytus and later Christian heresy-hunters features a mythological worldview nearly as complex as that of Valentinianism (which may or may not have been influenced by very-early Simonianism).
Of note, a late 2nd century Gnostic text, The Testimony of Truth, complains that Simonians marry and have children, implying this is a serious offense of some kind. How much of an offense it might be is impossible to assess, but if it’s true that Simonians married, it suggests they weren’t as libertine as many of their “literalist” Christian critics would claim.
There are late references to Simonians being baptized with the Holy Spirit and “with fire,” which reflects back on the account of Simon Magus in Acts and tends to separate them from other Christian or near-Christian movements (Gnostic or otherwise).
Epiphanius of Salamis, writing in the late 4th century, describes Simonianism, so we can be sure this movement at the very least lasted into the early 5th century. Aside from this, it’s hard to know how long Simonianism lasted.
After Justin Martyr’s time, Simonianism is described as being centered in and around Rome, so it makes sense that either Simon Magus or Menander (or maybe both) had relocated there, either around the same time as Justin or prior to his arrival. If this movement was a threat to Christianity, that had to have been the case in the environs of Rome and (by extension) the central Roman Empire. Epiphanius of Salamis in Cyprus reports on Simonianism but that’s because he catalogued all the heresies he heard about, including some that weren’t within his own sphere of influence (i.e. the island of Cyprus and parts of the Levant).
One legacy that Simon Magus and his movement have left us, is the word “simony” itself. This term refers not only to bribery, but “sacred” bribery (i.e. the illicit purchase of sacred favors). The term was inspired by Acts 8:9-24 even though the conclusion of this passage implies Simon had learned his lesson and had been restored to the apostles’ good graces.
At this point it’s impossible to determine the truth of what happened with both Simon Magus and with Simonianism generally. Was Simon a misguided sorcerer who converted to Christianity, attempted to understand it in his own sorcerous way, was rebuked, repented, then became a devout, dutiful Christian? Was he an insolent sorcerer and Gnostic teacher who preyed first on his fellow Samaritans and later the denizens of imperial Rome? Was he any or all of those things who was supplanted by a later protégé (i.e. Menander)? Was Simonianism an innocent version of John the Baptist’s teachings which was wrenched aside and turned into a vile form of the Gnostic heresy?
At this point, it’s impossible to say. The documentary evidence, which is meager and had been penned by people who despised both Simon and Simonianism, doesn’t make that entirely clear. As with so many other aspects of early Christianity, we’re unfortunately in the dark about this, left to make sense of the little that’s left to us.
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