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AUGUSTINE AN D THE

JEWS •••

A C J-J RIST IAN DEFENSE OF JEWS AND JUDA IS1'"1 \Vi rh a Nc\1· l'o~rscripr

PAULA FREDRIKSEN

Yale UNIVERSITY PRESS New H.:wrn dn.d London

Pir.st published in paperback in 2010 br Yair Uni..wsity .,rcss. First published in hardcowr in 2008 by Doubleday. a di\~sion of Random House, Inc. COP}'right 0 2008 by Paula FrL-drikscn. Postscript copyright Cl lOtO b)' Paula Fredriksen. All rights rcsc:rwd. This book myaleup.co.uk (U.K. office). Frontispiece: Erich Lcssingf/\rr Resource, NY. I' RINTliU IN T Hli UN ITiiU STAl'li.S OF ,\t,IER ICA.

Libr.u y of Congress Control Number: 20J09260?7 JSBN 978~0·300·1 6628-6 (pr~perback : alk. paper) A catalogue reco rd fo r this book is available fro m

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CON TE N TS

Prologue

x•

PART ONE •

THE LEGACY OF ALEXANDER

2

Gods and Their Humans 3 Gods and the One God 16

3

Paideia: Pagan>jewish, Christian

4

Pagans, Jews, and Christians in the Mediterranean City 79

PART TWO

•

T H E PRO D I GA L SON

5 6

The Heretic 105 The Sojourner l!!

7 8

The Converc

PART T HREE

9 10 11

tl

l55

The Biblical T heologian

•

190

GOD A ND IS RAEL

The War of Words 113 The Redemption of the Flesh The Mark of Cain 160 "Slay Them Not ...'• 190

Epilogue 353 Postscript to the Yale Edition

367

235

4t

\'Ill • C OIVTESTS

Acknowledgments 376 Time Une .)81 Chronology of Augustine's Life and Work 383 Notes

385

Pri mary Bibliograph)' 437 Secondary Bibliography 443 Indexes Names and Places 469 Ancient Documents and Authors

Subjects

493

4n

AUGUSTINE - - AND THE - -

JEWS

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PRO LOG UE VII!Joever '"""' the life ofa si11gle fm'SOII, it is as ifbe saved tbe entire tt10rld. MISH.VM·I SIINHEI>HIN

I

4.6

n 11 46, for t he second time in fifty years, Christians in the Rh ine

Valley responded co the call to liberate rhe Holy Land from Muslims by fi rst laying waste ro communities o f Euro pean Jews. The earlier slaug hters of 1096, t he bloody prelude ro t he First C rusade, had star-

tled co ntemporar ies. This time> however, a learned churchman was prepared>a nd he preached against t hose incit ing anti-jewish vio lence. His good deed was g ratefully noted by a Jewish contemporary, Rabbi Eph raim o f Bonn: T he l ord heard our ourc1y, an d hemm ed ro us and had piry on us. In his great mercy and gt·ace, he senr a decent pl'iesr . . . named Abbot Bernard, ofCiakvaux in France. . . . Bernard sa1d ro rhem:

"Jc is good ro go against t he lshmaelites [Muslims). Bur whoSOt\'et• rouches a}f\V ro rake his life is like one who hat·ms j esus hunself . . ., for in rh e book of Psalms ir ts wrinen of rhem, 'Sia)' rhem nof;,lesr my people forget.'>' All rhe Gemiles l'egarded chis priesr as one of rheir saincs. . . . \'o/hen our enemies heard his words> fl"'
xu · Prologue

his interpretatio n of Psalm 59 in his g reat masterwo rk, C~' of God. He argued t here that the Jews, alo ne of all t he religious minorities with in th e (newly) Christian state, should be unimpeded in their religious practice. \Vhy did the Jews merit th is u nique exemption? Because, said Augustine, th eir religious practices devolved from a un ique a uth o r: God the Fat her. The same god whom Christians worshiped was h im self the source of Jewish scriptu re, Jewish tradition, an d jewish pracrice. Thus God h imsel f, Augustine insisted, wanted t he jews to remain Jews. Let them p reserve their ancient booksJ he urged~ let t hem live openly acco rd ing to t heir an cestral p ractices while scattered among th e Christia n majoriry. In so doing, Augustine ta ught, t he jews per formed a valuable service of testimony for the church. 4

By rhe evidence of rheirown scriprures rhe)' bear wimes.s for us t har we have nor fabl'icared rhe prophecies abour Cht·isc. . . . It follows [hat when [he jews do nor believe in our scriprures, d1eir scriprures are fulfilled in rh em, \Vhile t hey read chem wirh blind eyes. ... )[ is in order co give rh is resrimony which, in spi[e of [hemselves, chey supply fo t· our benefic by [heir possession and pre,.rva
«Slay rhem noc, les[ rhey forgec rour law; scacrer t hem b)' your tntghc. .. (.'I'I'Y OF GOD

18.46

Th is paragraph su ms u p Augustine's j ustly famo us "wimess doctrine." His teaching o n t he jews' special starus, and on the special service that th eir presence and their religious visib ility rendered to t he ch urch, remained a singular as pen of h is g reac rheological legacy. With rhe co lla pse of t he \\/estern Ro rnan Empire, this legacy passed into the crad itions o f medieval Christian Europe. In that more violent society, Augustine's wim ess doctrine p rovided a uthority for later learned churchmen, who used it-as Bernard, in the bleak d ays o f the Second Crusade-to deAect and defuse Christian violence against jews.2 Augustine and the jews cells the story o f how Augustine came co conceive this un ique teaching~ wh ich was o rigin al to h im. Thanks co the

Profoglft •

XIII

happy survival of so many of his writings, \vhose sequence we know) we can see the development o f h is t hought on this topic in an astonishing d egree of detail: p hilosophically oriented treatises and commentaries just after h is conversion in Italy in 386, h is failed commentary o n Genesis o nce back in North Africa, short essa)'S and attempted bigger projects on the Pa uline episdes, transcripts of deba tes with heretical o pponems) sermons 1 letters. And rh en, suddenly) dazzlingly, four brilliant and original works, produced in overlapping, ra pid successio n1 begin ning in 396- To Simplicianns (on Paul)1 Cbristian Teacbillg (on reading t he Bible), Co•ifessiolls (on knowing God), and Agaimt Faustus (on the Bible, against the Manichees). We have t hem all. These works chart the \va)' to h is teaching o n Jew'S and j udaism. Augustine's writ ing is so vivid, h is intellectual energy so fierce1 the force o f his personality so present, thar we can p ractically bear h im ch inking. Tracing his though t thro ugh these closely dated works is like viewing time-lapse photography. We can watch-phrase by phrase, pro blem by problem, insight by insight-how he gets ro where he goes. Prior to this question of Augustine•s teaching on Jews an d j udaism, hmvever) and in a sense framing it, stands the more fundamental one already put to us by our glance at the C rusades: Why an d how did relations between Ch ristians and Jews ever beco me so terrible in the first place?

••• makes this d istressing question char much more difficult ro answer. C hristianity had been born and nu rtured within j udaism. Its message of bodily resurrection, divine judgment, and messianic redemption is quin tessent ially Jewish. The earliest Christians, rhemselves Jews, had proclaimed the good news o f t his impending redemption in terms drawn entirely fro m jewish scripture. Fan n ing out from jerusalem, t he Christian movement in irs fi rst generation, and indefinitely thereafter, incubated within d iaspo ra synagogue co mmunities. Jn brief, ancient Christianity was irself a rype o f Judaism. Nonetheless, by Augustine's d ay-in fact, well before-an importan t shift had occu rred. Even t hough Ch ristianity's past was incontrovertibly Jewish) irs fu rure was resoundingly gentile. This shift in C hristianity's ethnic base ca me wi th shifts in tradiT J-16 f-IlS TOn Y Of CHRISTIAN OR lOI NS

XIV •

Pro/<1gM

rions of ce:~rua] interpretation. \Vhich change came first, o r whether both came together, is now impossible co Sa)r. The texts in question were rhemselves also originally Jewish. The larger and vastly o lder co llection was t he ancient jewish scriptu res in t heir '' n10dern'' G reek cranslarion, rhe Sepruaginr (largely complere b)' rhe early second cenrury B.C.E.). The fewer and more recent texts \veret preeminently. Paul's letters to his gentile communiries and some o r all of the gospels-also jewish, also in Greek-chat were eventually collected imo the ch u rches• New Testament canon. Both bodies of literat ure preserved condemnations o f the social and religious p ractices of outsiders, and they particuJarly condemned the images of the outsiders' gods. But rhis literat ure also p reserved hostile caricatu res o f insiders., heated polemics by cheir jewish autho rs against other jews. The scriptural prophet.~~ for example, roundly condemned those Jews whose practice and in terpretation of jewish law diftered from their way; and their way) chey p roclaimed) was God 's way. Asserting similar authorization (for he saw himself as '"an apostle neither from human beings nor through them) but through Jesus Ch risr a nd God rhe Farher"; Galarians 1:1), Pa ul energerically repud iated other Christian Jews who co nstrued the gospel message in ways difterenr from his own. And the evangelists presen t Jesus himself as condemning various jewish contemporaries: scribes! Pharisees, p riests, and occasionally others of his own followers who in some way d issent from rhe position championed by rhe particular gospel 'vrirer. (Marrhew 7-15- 23 provides a particularly clear example of rhis in rernal debate, which in its o riginal historical context would have been "internal'' with respect to Judaism no less t han with respect to Christianity.) Diversity, it seems, was worse chan dangerous: it was damnable. Yet, clearly, diversity was also typical. At least, we have very many ancient jewish texts- incJuding paleo-Christian Jewish te;ns- that complain abour or condemn such diversity. In the Christian literat ure that begins to appear early in t he second century, however, these argumen ts against orher Jews rransform inro co ndemnations ofjudaism itself From this poin t on, many gentile aurhors) whether dispu ting with Jewish contemporaries o r contesring with each other over questions o f au thorit)' and identity,

Prologfl.t . XY

increasingly expressed th e principles of their various Christian beliefs and practices by ap pealing ro a vase web of interconnected an ti-Jewish themes. They a u thorized their arguments by referring ro bib licaJ texts a nd, above all~ to statemenrs in rhe letters of PauL By Augustine's period, after rh ree h undred years o f vigorous development, this incerprecive ami-Judaism had become a defining feacure o f o rrhodox idenricy and o f o rchodox rheology. Scholars speak of chis invecrive as the adt~ersus lstdaeos or contt-n Judaeos traditio n: Chr istian teachings "against the Jews.'• These ceachings a ppear rhro ughouc every form of early Chrisrian lirerarure known to us: in e pistles, sermo ns, and co mmentaries; in apologies and in learned rheological rrearises. Evencually, from the early fourth century o n, t hey echo in the legislation o f chu rch councils, in the mosaics o rnamenting basilicas an d baptisteries, and in the legal language of the impe rial government. Yet) intriguingly~ no co rrespondingly robust tradition contra Cbrist:iaum appears in exta nt Jewish lirerarure o f the same period, fro n1 t he second to t he early fifth centu ry. The bulk o f these cexts o riginates with the rabbis: the Mishnah, the jerusalem Talmud, and the great homiletical commenta ries (midrasbim). They collect and preserve traditio ns whose focus is j ewish custom an d communi[)', whose language is Hebrew or Ararnaic, and whose provenance is the Land o flsrael. The voices of that vast portion o f th e Jewish population living west of the Land of Israel, however, the voices of the Greek- and Lacin-speakingJewish Diaspora, fall curious!)' silenr. The abundant j ewish litera ry culture in Greek, which had flo urished in the Hellenistic and the early Ro man periods, a nd whose momentum had led, cenruries before o u r period, to the translation of the jewish scriptures into Greek, simply dries up.l This imbalance in rh e evidence complicates efforts at explanation. \'Vhar social context can accommodate t he production of such hostile rhetoric, and why would chis rheroric be so heavily developed and so copiously represented o n o ne side alone? Current efforts to explain rhe scope and the energy o f the rotJDu lttdaeos t radition and to reconstruct a plausib le social conre:-.:r within which our lo psided evidence mighr make some sense look back particularly to the late nin eteent h century, to rhe work o f the great church

X\'1 • Prol<~gM

h istorian Adolf von Ha rnack (18j t-1930). Ha rnack made three interpretive proposals. The first was t hat, after the Roman destruction of Jerusalern'.s temple in 70 c.E.> Jewish co mmun ities began to curn inward , \Vith drawing from active re lations wit h a nd involvement in th e outside, gentile world. (This conjecture accounts for the general lack of early Jev.~sh respo nses to Christian an ti Jewish invective). His second proposal was that the stereotypical quality of Christian state· ment.s abou t Jews suggested that their usual source was not encounters with Jewish contemporaries bu t interpretations of Old Testament rexcs, especially of chose of the p rophets. (This second conjecture account.~ fo r the repetitive a nd a bstract quality of so much anti Jewish criticism: hearts th at are always stony, hard>or u ncircumcised; necks that are alwa}'S stiff; and so o n.) And, third, Harnack suggested that conh"a ludaeos invective was most often stimulated by Christians ' 4

4

polemical contacts not with Jews bur wit h the much larger population of potential co nverts, which is to say, wich pagans. Skeptical and hostile, th ese pagans would have pointed out to Christians that Je,rs did not fo llow the gentile Christian lead when in terpreting what were clearly Jewish books. Christian an ti-Jewish argument responded to pa· gans by making the case chat the Jews had t heir interpretatio ns all wro ng."' Other scholars challenged Ha rnack's conten t io ns. Two of these scholars, who published their work in che years just after World War II, stand in the immediate background of the present scudy. The first scholar, Bernhard Blu menkranz, minutely analyzed a late sermon of Augustine•s, tradirjonally idend fied as the "Sermon against t he j ews/' in Die j"denpl'edigt Ar
Prologur •

XVII

a corpse?1' Simon famously asked.) O n rhe contrary, urged these scholars: The church inveighed against the synagogue because the synagogue posed an active threat to the church.5 The many complaints wirhin ancient Ch ristian literature about gentile Chr isrians who "'J udaized,...-rhat is, who voluntarily assumed some jewish practices-and the occasional criticisms of and imperiaJ laws againsr gentile conversions to Judaism provided rhe evidence in sup po rt of rhis new description of the late Roman religious and sociaJ con texr. But Blumenkranz and Simon went further, arguing thar rhis evidence arrested not onl)' to the anractiveness of rhe S)'nagogue but also to strenuous efforts to be attractive made by the synagogue. The jews of late antiquity, argued Blumenkranz and Simon, exactly like their co ncernporary Christian counterparts, actively engaged in mis· sions, seeking to persuade Gentiles, whether pagan o r Christian, to become jews. T he noise and the quan tity of Christian anti-Jewish invective, they urged, indexed the younger cornmunity's insecur ity in the face o f its much more established jewish rivaL Christian polemic

contra Judaeos, they concluded, actually reveals the inrensity of the church's rivalry with rhe synagogue as both communities competed for a limited resource: new convercs.6 From that time ro this 1 an enormous volume o f fresh research, new data, and different argumenrs have refined, softened, or reinforced rhe rwo in terpretive oprio ns represented by Harnack co rhe one side and by Blumenkranz and Simon to the o ther. New archaeo logicaJ finds have offset the silence of post-first-century Hellenistic jewish literary cexts. The mo numental remains of the grear synagogue at Sard is, integrated inro the heart of that city~ a wea1th of inscriptional evidence and o f mosaic donor plaques, attesting to dose interactions between Ro man-era jews and Gentiles whether pagan or Christian~ new ways of reading rabbinic literature in order to perceive contacts and influences across the confessionaJ divide: Scholars now have much richer and more varied evidence to consider.7 Earlier interpretatio ns have also been modulated and new ones proposed, as scholars have paid increasing a[cention to rhe ways chat polemics ostensibly d irected against outsiders work rhetorically toestablish definitions of community for insiders. And aJso, while much o f

xvu1 · Prt.llogut•

rhe forma] Christian literary evidence (such as sermons and commencaries) bespeaks hosrility between Christians of various kinds, jews, and pagans~ much of the nonliterary and nonecclesiastical evidence (inscr iptions, papyri, decorative artifacts} and indeed, some of the complaints made within the literary evidence. attest ro various, often friendly contacts between members of these different communities, up to and including co-celebration and marriage. A second gap thus begins co open up, this o ne between the extremely hostile amtra fu daeos rhetoric and a surprisingly open and accommodating ~..tediter4 ranean ur ban social reality. \Vhence the strength, rhe ubiquity, and the stability of this anti-jewish invective, then 1 absent an explanatory social conrext of equaJiy universal and incense competition or hostility?3 These d ifficulties of in terpretation notwithstanding, we need to have a sense of the history and the role of Christian anti-jewish rhetoric in Augustine's culture in order to see how his bold revisions chal4

lenged this tradition. l propose to tell his story, then, by beginning with a diffe rent one: a broad and brief history of Greco Roman Mediterranean civilization from irs dawn in the conquests of Alexander the Great (d. 323 II.C.E.) to its incipient twilight in the fifth-century western Ch ristian empire. From this aerial view of Augustine's social and religious culture, we wiiJ move into our closeup of Augustine's life and rhoughr and thence, finall)', to the evolution/revolution of his theology ofJews and Judaism. Thus Pare l, "The Legacy of Alexander/ ' examines the in teractions of the nvo most important pop ulations in antiquity: gods and humans. \XIe will see how these gods and their humans-including the 4

judean god and his h umans-formed u nits rhat were hnagined and u nderstood as family groups. \XIe will also see how empire and the new "global" culture of Hellenism affected the wa)•S that different ethnic and, thus, religious groups perceived and described themselves and others; and V.'e will explo re rhe various practical ways in which ancient people sought to maintain good relationships both \\~th their own god(s) and with the gods of others. Next, we will consider elite rrad itions of Hellenistic education-chiefly rhetoric but also philosophyto determine how rhese shaped social, politicalt and imeUectual encounters and activities. As we trace the spread of the Christian

Prof()gut ·

XIX

n1ovemenr within th is erud ite culture1 we will examine how irs leaders saw their enterprise1 at least in part, as a conflict over the interpretation o f texts. And fi nally, we will explo re some of the variegated evidence noted earlier-inscriptions, archaeological remains, d iffe rent kinds of lirerantre-to gain a sense o f the social world of Ro man a ntiquityJ of the ways in which pagans> jews> and Christians interacted among themselves and with each other in t he shared space of the Greco-Ro man cicv. ' Part 11, "The Prodigal Son;• explores the immediate context of Augustine's teaching on jews and judaism; h is own intellectual and spirit ual development. This story of Augustine's life ranges from his studem days in Carthage (370s c. E.), d uring which he joined the outlawed Christian sect of the tvlanichees, through to h is early }'ears as a catholic bishop, when he co mposed his amazing prayer to God, the Confosswns (circa 397). Here I h ighlight t he parcicular questions that impelled h im first to the here.sy of Manichaean Christianity and, later, to a cosmopolitan version of his child hood church. Whar is the relation of spirit to fleshrOf a good god to rhe problem of evil? Of text to meaning ? Of time co eternity? Grappling with t hese questions d rove Augustine ever more deeply imo the p roblem of interpreting the Bible. The challenge that rhese questions posed ) and wh ich h is commitments co 1\.
xx . Prologut

pitula had surprising polemical power, which arose from Faustus' ingenious combination of two originally quite d istinct traditions: the rhetoric conh-a IudMos of heretical Christianicy and the rheto ric contra Judaeos of o rthodox Christianity. In Augustine's response to Faustus we can see in microcosm the ap plications and the effects o f trad itions of G reco-Ro man rhetoric, philosophy, textual in terpretation> and cross-ethnk relations explored in the macrocosm of Part 1. But we can also see, in wonderful detail, the effect that the particuJar co ntingencies of Augusti ne's own life had on his thought. His education and its limits; his relations with other Latin Christian inteHecruals~ the circumstances specific to late-fo urrh-cen rury North Afric.a, with its communities of Jews, pagans, and dissenting Ch ristians~ the instability of Latin versions of the Bible; the particular conclusio ns that he had come to in u nderstanding the biography as well as the rheo logy of the apostle Paul: all of these fac tors combined to lead Augustine to the st unning achievement of his teaching on Jews and j udaism .

•• • owE READ ERS some preliminary rernarks to explain several peculiar ities of this book. First, l have capitalized the word god only when it acts as rhe name of the biblical d eity: thus, "God spoke to Moses" bur "the god of Moses spo ke." T his decision reflects my effort to pur all o f o ur ancient actors o n the same level playing field. Traditional capiraJ ization seems like a fo rm o f special pleading. I did not want to write about "the god of Plato" if [ wrote about "the God of Abraham." 1

4

Second, modern English uses two words, Gentiles and pagans) where the Greek o n which these both rest has o nly a single word) ta ethne, '"the nations.'' The two English wo rds have different co nnotations. Gentile makes a statement abo ut a person's ethnicity: The person is not a je\v. Pagan refers to a person's religious beliefs: The person is neither a jew no r a Ch ristian. When Christianity began to appear in fi rst-century d iaspora synagogues, however, mutatis mutandis, pagans were Gentiles, and Gemiles ,,,..ere pagans. (The exceptions to this virtu· ally universal rule are explo red in the text.) The distinction between religion and ethnicity created by the two English words is an anachro nism fo r the first several centuries of the Christian E~ one that makes the quarrels within the first generatio n of the movemem

Prof()gut · :.:x1

and the reasons for later pagan anri·CI1risrian persecutions hard er to see. l note where this vocabulary presents pro blems. and I offset these problems by using the one word \vhen modern usage expects the other. The reader should prepare for enco un tering ('pagan Christians'' when we look at the first generation o f the Chr isdan movement in the Diaspora Third, throughout the presen t study I have tried to compensate fo r o ne of the abiding problems in the field o f anciem Christian studies: the language of the winners. Surveys of pre-Conscantinian Christianity often identi~' various Christian communities, marginalized o nly d uring the power struggles of the fo urth centu ry and later, as already "heretical'' in the lace fi rst century, o r in the second. o r in the third. Such an approach seems to grant ro the "orthodox... their own claim, nam ely, that rheir version of Christianity was the delining one, always the s.ame from the beginning and therefore authentic and in some special sense "true." It thereby invites and promotes anachronism. Before Constantine, each of the various Christian communities thought rhat its 0 \\11 views were correct and that the views of others, if d ifterenr, were false. Before 312, what we have is variety. After 312, we still have variety. By chat point, however, events had led to a clear, functional definition o f orthodoxy: the views that enjoyed the sup po rt of the emperor. After 312, in brief. what primarily d istinguished o rthodox Christians fro m their rivals was pmver. To chin k otherwise is simply m recapitulate in modern academic language rhe ancient rhetoric of the o rthodox bishops. (To see some version o f rabbinic Judaism as "orthodox" Judaism projects the same error onto ancient jewish communities.) Nonetheless, we remain stuck with the vocabulary of the winners. Scholars habitually identil)' various second- and third-century Christian groups by the names of their prominent leaders: Valentinians (the followers of Valentin us), Marcionires (the followers of Marcion), Manichaeans o r Manichees (the followers of Mani). And we identi~' the community char names them this wa)' as proto-orthodox o r as o rthodox. Fo r clarity, I have had to acquiesce. The reader should remember, however, that in their own eyes, all of these people were simply followers of Ch rist and, therefo re, "Christians." Fourth- a diffe rent version of the same problem- how should we

XX II • Prologu~

identify Paul and his jewish contemporaries in the first generation of che movement thac formed around the memory and the message of jesus of Nazareth? To caJI rhem ''jews" leads to confusion 1 because they are a particular kind ofJew, and it is their particularity thar gives chem their historical importance. {So roo. fo r example, with those Jews who were members of ocher first-century jewish schools or sects, such as the Pharisees o r the Essenes.) To call chis fi rst generation "Christian" risks anachronism, however. The term, and arguably the concept1 d id not exist d uring their lifeti mes. By their own lighcs1 these particular Jews saw themselves-when rhey were not arguing with each o ther-as Jews who had the correct understanding o f rhe Jewish god, rhe j ewish messiah, and the Jewish scriptures. The problem is no less acute when trying to speak about rhe non Jews who jo ined with them. Are these people "convercs"? (If so, in this period before a separate Chriscianity exists, then co what?} Or are they "Judaiz.ers)>~ that is, pagans who adopt some but not all Jewish practices? (\Vhich o nes? In what ways? And why?) J have finally o pted to use "Christian," while acknowledging the many poin ts made by good arguments ag.Unst such usage. Where t his label leads to problems of h istorical analysis, I men· tion it in the text. Fifth. J have designated the fourrh~centur)' Christian victors as both "catholic" and "orthodox.>~ This too reflects their own claim, es4

pecially in the age after Constantine. m represent universal (catholica) and right-thin king (orthodox) Christianity. Those later and more localized churches, (Lati n) Roman Catholicism and (Greek) Orthodoxy, descend from this community, but in our period rhey do nor yet exist. Thus Latin cheologlans in rhe fourch and fifth centuries can be '"or thodox" (like Ambrose 1 o r Augustine)~ and Greek prelates in the easeern Mediterranean (like Arhanasius of Alexandria), in claiming to represent an inrernacional and u niform Christian traditio n, can be "catholic." 1 hope that the use o f lower case leners will help avoid confusio n. Of co urse, impo rtant fo urth cent ury communities chat selfidentified as Ro mans and as o rthodox Christians lived outside of the immediate Mediterranean linguistic world of Greek and Latin. Vital trad itions also flourished in Coptic and in Syriac, and some of these conrribuced also ro the development of Christian anci Jewish invec4

4

4

4

Profogu~ • XX III

rive. Augustine, h owever, felt the impact o f those trad itions that ca me through Greek and especially through Latin texts. For that reason, the present study co nce nt rates on them.'9 Sixrh> while J have availed myself wh erever possible of standard translations of G reek and Latin texts> I have usually alrered and adjusted them. (This is true even when l used translations rhac l have previously published m)>self.) Bib lical quotations in English, often but nor always, d raw o n the text of the Revised Standa rd Versio n (RSV), t hough frequently I have adjusted these as well. Last, quotations o f b iblical rexts made bv , a ncient au thors often do not conform to rhe received texts and a uthorized translations of roday. Sometimes this is because the aurhor is quoting fro m n1emo1')'~ sometimes it is beca use h is text (especially if in Latin) differs from the Greek o r th e Hebrew t hat stands behind modern scientific editions o f t he Bible. In these instances, of course, l have kept rh eir readings an d translated accordingly. Seventh, and finally, my notes here a re discursive and only minimally bibliogra ph ical: I d id not intend them to be exhaustive. Two considerations pro mpted this decision. The first was p ractical. The earlier academic publications on which the present srudy rests a re readily accessible thanks to the ln ternec. Readers who \\'ant a fuller complement of schola rly bibliography a nd argumentatio n than I give here can consulr my \Vebpage ac Bosron University, where my earlier essays a re available in PDF format (mvw.bu.edu/ religion/faculty/ Fredriksen). My second co nsidera tion, however, was literru·yt thus aest hetic. The conclusions that [ have reached in the course of several decades~ work o n a \\•ide variety o f q uestions, in related but d iffe rent a reas, emerged only severally. ln AugustiiJf' and the jews, [ wanted to retell the results o f that research in one sweeping sto ry.

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- - - - - !'ART ONE - - - - -

THE L EGACY OF A LEXA NDER The IYXJts ofCbristianil)• run deep in }ttda;sm. And tire roots of ami-judaism rsm deep in Christianity. To grasp the fmw and complexity ofthese tttJO focts- and ofAugustine S singu1dr respome ro them- requires a stmst! of dreir historical matrix, the cttlwre that enabled d>eir bird1, sponsored their growth, and fod their long·lived, manifold imeractiom. TIJat culture tvas bom nearl)l sewn hundredyean before the brilliant bishcp I~Collceiwd his ideas abottt God, creation., and bistory; some tbree centuries before the mes.;age oftiJe risen Christ began its resbopillg ofMeditrrranean society. Understanding the traditions ofChristian anti:ftulaism, in order ro see how AttgmtineS idf'as on }e1Ps and judaism ul#matel)• challenged them, hegins with all under.
•••

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I

•

GODS AND T H EI R H UMANS

A task tvas set for me, tvhich caused me deep anxiety. ... 1 U tH to reciw the speech of]tmo in her anger and grief tiJat siJe «cot
•\U(jUSTINI:, COA'n;s.SIONS L £7,27

B orn in North Africa in 354, Augustine began life some four decades after Constantine's momentous decisio n to link the fortunes of the Roman Empire with those o f rhe church. Augustine's father, Patrici us, t hough not baptized u ntil near the end of h is life> was Christian~ h is mother, t he formidable MonnicaJ was a ferven t believer. Augustine's native province, with its illustrious history o f saints a nd martyrs> was t he cradle o f Latin C hristianity. Nonetheless> it was the tales o f ancient heroes and the classical gods that filled and formed the imagination of this bright linle boy: fu rious Juno and Virgil's doomed lovers, Dido a nd Aeneas; wicked Medea flying th rough the air; Zeus a nd Athena, Ach illes and Odysseus, and t he who le noisy throng of Ho mer's o utsize deities an d war riors. Augustine's formal educatio n - a benefic that his Christian parents made considerab le sacrifices co secure fo r him-was tho roughly an d u napologetically pagan.' How did these gods beco me so esta blished in traditions of learning? \Vhy would Augustine's parents wan t this sort of education for t heir son? How d id Augustine learn co read and co think with pagan literarure, and how d id this education ultimately affect h is reading o f t he Bible and rhus h is incerprerarion of Judaism? To answer these questions, we have co look back across nearly seven centu ries, to the b irth of the world that Augustine lived in. Odd as it may seem, the story of Augustine and rh e jews begins with the conquests of Alexander t he Great.

...

4 • ALlOUST I Nl! ANI> T IH : J EWS

Alexander the Great (d. J2J B.C.E.) presided over a vast and variegated empire that stretched from the eastern Mediterranean and Egypt to rhe edges of India. Though his empire was short lived- at his dead\ it fractured into much smaller kingdoms and city-scares-his underlying culruraJ achievement endured. ln the wake of his conquests, Alexander had planted Greek colonists and veterans from his army in new settlements. He organized these settlements along lines reminiscent of rhe Greek ci ty> or polis. Urban life in Alexander's new establishments pulsed around the agora> the centraJ public space that served as the commercial and social nerve center of rhe city. At public feasts, civic altars srnoked wirh the fles h of animals offered ro the gods. Schools and gymnasia educated the next generation in public speaking and athletics, rraining the sons of the elite fo r future leadership. The boule {t0\111 council), the library, the cheater, the hippodJome: all served simultaneously as sites for social interaction and for the enactment of public piery. These o rgans of the classical Greek city, wide!)' transplanted abroad, enabled the growth of a new international culture, which scholars call Hellenism. Greek irself became antiquity's English, the in· rernationaJ language par excellence. As such, it facilitated trade and rravel, rhe exchange of goods and ideas, and the workings of government and of diplomacy across vast expanses of territory. Hellenism, in brief, was the \Vest's first great experience of globalization. ·n1anks roche gymnasia- institutes oflearning for the adolescem sons of civic elites- education was also globalized. Adapted classical curricula brought the patrimony of hig h G reek culture, paideia, to lo· cal elites abroad. To the degree rhat citizens participated in the politi· cal, inrellecrual, and cultural life of their ci ties, to rhac degree they lived and thought in Greek. So penetrating was chis linguistic accomplishment that b}' che second century n.c.E ..]ews in the Mediterranean Diaspora had d ropped their native vernaculars and translated rheir ancient sacred wr itings from Hebrew {or Aramaic) into Greek. So perduring was chis linguistic accomplishment that most of the texts from c.he 6rst seveml centuries of the Christian movement, even those composed in the " Latin" \X1esr- in Rome, fo r example, or in Lyon-were in B\' T H B TIME HE WAS TH I RTY>

Gods d11d T"dr Humans • 5

fact written in Greek. The lineaments of Augustine's curricul um in fou rth-century North Africa, and Homer's p lace within it, give the measure of Alexander's long-lived cult-ural achievemem.! Vernaculars of course persisted, and Hellen ism itself was a mongrel phenomenon, expressed in local accents whether in Egypt, Syria, or Asia Minor (modern Turkey). {Artif.tccs from t he kingdom of the Ptolemies, for exan1ple, one of the dynasties that emerged in the power struggle after Alexander's dearh, a re at once recognizably Greek and unmistakably Egyptian.) Its myriad variations norwithsranding, however, Hellenism facilitated commun ication and spread cultural coherence across vast d istances. Adapting and adopting ic, Rome exported this civilization even fu rther, adding to the Hellenistic repertoire irs own variations o n urban structures: the forum, rhe basilica, the circus, t he public bath. B),. the end of the first cent ury c.E., rhan ks to Rome•s conquests, the expanse of territory from Britain in the west ro rh e edge of Persia in the east, from the Danube in the north to the African b readbasket in the sourh, formed an identifiable, if not uniform, cultural whole. Trade and govern ment, art and literarure: these a bstractions sit atop a rougher reality. Throughout the 750 years that stretch berween Alexander and Augustine, war and its aftermath, peace, b roughr different, d istant peoples closer together. Contacc with other cultures achie\red iniriaJly through military conquest often meanr d isempowerment, deportation, and d islocation fo r t he losing side. Defeated peoples miglu remain where they were 1 cooperating with and accommodating themselves ro the new order. Or they might move. whether as refugees, exiles, or slaves. Buc these empires, Hellenistic or Ro man, also established domestic peace. Peace enabled and encouraged interior travel and less traumatic forms of migration. Merchants. enticed by the wider horizons and the increased opportun ities for trade brought by empire. could travel in safety. So could pilgrims, who celebrated festivals and journeyed to famous rempies a nd holy sires. Populations mixed as soldiers married. a nd they and rhei r famHies garrisoned milirar)' colonies in frontier areas. Ancient empire rhus not only spread the unif}ing global culture of Hellenism but also F.tcilitated the mixing a nd mingling of populations, bringing fo reigners-slave and immig ra nt alike''home." (Different people, as we shall see, greered this new p roximity

6 · ALlOUST I Nl! ANI> T IH: J EWS

to strangers with differem attitudes.} And) since all ancient peoples had t heir own pantheons, these ancient empires also brought into closer contact many d ifferent gods .

••• ooos AND f-lU MANS were rh e two key populations of a ncien t empire, which could prosper o nly if t h<)' cooperated. To understand how an· cients solicited t his cooperation, we need to imagine the world as they d id, a world that was filled with gods. Though, often, rhes.e gods lived in rh e heavens, they also lived o n earth. Ancient gods tended to be local in two senses. They artached, first1 to particular places. Sometimes their holy sites were natural: a grove or a g rotto, a spring or a sacred moun tain. No less often, however, t hese sites were man made. Gods, like men, \Vere also u rban creatures, and cities held shrines. Temples might be visitl!d or statues temporarily tenanted by t he god to whom th ey were sacred. The Gospel of Matthew, written in Greek probably toward t he close of the first centur)' C. E.. provides a n ice statement of this extremely common ancient idea. ln t hat \vork, jesus observes th at ''he who swears by the Temple (in jerusalem], swears by it and by him who dwell.< in it" (Matthew 2}21)-rhat is, b)' rhe god oflsrael, who abides in his remple. At festivals a nd solemn occasions, whether in town o r in coun try, ancient gods joined worshipers a round t heir altars. There gods and men cou ld enact a fundamental a nd binding socia] ritual: they "are" together. The fat, bones, and flesh of blood offerings, the cereals and wine brought by worshipers, provided the medium of this encoun ter, which was cautiously scripted according co purity rules t hat (often) t he god h imself had revealed. Mistakes made gods a ngry; p roper ritual and piecy- all indices of affection, loyalty, and respect-pleased t hem a nd disposed then1 to be gracious. Humans., in consequence, took care to safeguard the p urity, sanctity, and financial securi ty of these altars and holy sites because, in a simple way, the god was there. (Much later into the Christian period, when anti pagan polen1ic demoted both the moral and the celestial status of rh ese divine beings to that of "evil demons," t heir p rese nce around t heir altars was still assumed.)1 4

Bur ancient gods were local in another sense. They attach ed not

Gods aud Thtir Hm1r.rnt · 7

just to places. hue also to peoples. Put more concisely, ancient '"religion"' was inherited. It characterized ethnic g ro ups. In antiquity, gods ran in rhe blood. I put "religion·~ in scare quotes because of the important diffe rences between t he ways t hat modern people tend to thin k o f religion and the ways that ancient peoples maintained good relations with their gods. For the modern \X1esterner, religion is a detachable aspect of individual identity. Largely personal o r private, modern religio n seems first o Fall a questio n of belieFs. And belieFs themselves oFten re· late to ind ividual psychological states, the sincericy o r co mmit ment or conviction o r inner disposition of the believer. In the ancient Jvfediterranean, by cont rast, the closest social analogue to our concept of religion would be cult, those protocols and practices whereby humans enacted their respect for and devotion to t he deity, thereby securing heaven's good will. Cult focused on deeds. It was communal, both across generations (cult acts, o r ri tuals, were perfo rmed accord ing to ancestraJ o·ad ition} and among members o f the group. This is not to say rhat individual households and, indeed, persons might not have their own particular protocols o f piety: They could and they d id. And rhis is not ro say that religious activities al\va)'S involved an entire urban po pulation. On the co ntrary, smaller groups gathered around particular deities whom they chose to worship, such as Isis or Dionysus. Various imm igrant co mmw1ities had their own liturgical calendars and t raditions that served, precisely, to indicate who was in the group and who was not. Still, ancien t worship in generaJ emphasized actions that were public> communal, and (especially at the civic and imperial levels) what we would identiFy as po·

litical.• To the degree that cult was inherited, to that degree it was also eth nic- that is, cult was most often speci fic to a people (ethnos in Greek). Cult t hus functioned as a rype of ethnic designation, binding a g roup together across time as well as space, defining one•s kinship group, rhe genos (Greek) or natio (Latin). Herodot us, the Greek his· torian of the fifth centu ry B.C.E., gives a clear example of this way o F thinking, when he defines "Greekness" (He/lenismos) in terms o f shared blood, language, altars, and customs (Histories 8.144-2- J). O r,

S •

,\UGUST lNil. ASO TUll p:WS

more simply, deiries, peoples, a nd places could all be identified in rerms o f each other: t he god of Israel, rhe gods of Rome, the god at Delphi, and so on. "Grear is Arcemis of t he Ephesians!" (Acts 19:18). Hellenistic jews> in distinguish ing t heir \vay of life from t hat of ou tsiders, invented a \1/0rd similar co Herodonts' term fo r Greekness:

Ttmdaismos, "Jewish ness" or {perhaps better) 'judea n ness.'' Thus the heroes of ch e passage in che Second Book of Maccabees>where th is word fi rst appears, figh t for "the temple, the ciry (Jerusalem), and t he laws" (1 Maccabees 2:11). Centuries Iacer, sometime in t he sos c.E.t another Greek jew> che a posde Paul, defined jewishness in ways that again recaJI Herodotus' cacegoriesof Greekness. "'My brothers, my kinsmen accordjng to ch e Aesh;' wrote Paul, ;'a rc the Jsraelites. To them belong ... the glory (Greek: dw:a ], rhe covenants [diathekai], t he giving of the Law [nonwthesia], and the worship (latn>ia]" (Romans 9:3-4 RSV). In o ther words, Pa ul exp lains to the (genti le) Christian co mmun ity in Ro me char h is kinsmen (-9~eneis) are distinguished by t heir customs, th eir cult, and their god. The Greek word that Paul uses, which implies severaJ of these ideas, is doxa. The Revised Standa rd Version (RSV) t ranslates this word as "'glory."' But Paul's phrasing d raws o n the jewish scriprures, so that beneath his G reek doxa lies the Hebrew word km10d. Kavod also trans· lares as "glor)','' but the word refers most specificaJiy to the glorious d ivine presence and rh us to the particular place of this presence-that is, t he altar o f Israel's god in his temple in Jerusalem (Romans 9'4). Paul aJso lists customs as defin ing his people~ t helr covenants (diatlwkai) and laws (nomothesia), by which h e mea ns Torah. And as another ethn ic identifier in this list, Pa ul names service o r cult: latreiA in his rexr, rranslated rat her bloodlessly by "worship" in the RSV. Bur latreia specifically means "offerings," most often b lood offerings; rhe b iblical Hebrew behind Paul's Greek would be avodah. In the context of Paul's letter, then> chis word hlh"l?ia refers both to Torah, which co mmu nicated God•s protocols fo r sacrifice) and also to the Temple in jerusalem, where che cult n·as performed before his altar. (Romans 9:4-5. Note char neith er the a ut hor of 2 Maccabees nor the apostle could follow Herodotus in using "shared language'' co indicate shared erhn icity.)' l11us 1 like their h umans, ancient gods (including, emphaticaiJy,

Gods and T!Jdr Hut1JM1f · 9

the j udean god) \vere ethnic also. Their ethn ic relation to th eir h umans was sometimes p resented in terms of the fam ily bond of descent. Myths of primordial b reedings becween a god and a mortal often recoun ted such a relation benveen h eaven and a ru ler. Alexander the Great claimed descent from Herades~ according to another legend, Alexander's morher, Olympias, had co nceived him through the god Zeus. Aeneas, hero of Virgil's g reac poem, was che child o f the goddess Venus, a co nnection thar larer served h is desce ndan t j u lius Caesar very well. Cities as well as ru1ers found such divine connections political!),. useful. A city whose citizens were descended from a god could negotia te treaties and reach understandings with oth er peoples by invoking newly discovered bonds through a ncient d ivine-human relationship. Hellenistic and Iacer Roman diplomats, availing t h emselves of these trad itions, wove int ricate \vebs of kinship diplomacy among cities. These diplomats could appeal to an ancient pasc when prolific deities and semidivine heroes, in the wake o f th eir considerable wanderings, left behind h u man offspring, who were the ancestors of the parties to the treaty under negotiation. So too did Hellenistic jews, who paired the offspring of their patr iarchs with lesser Greek divinities. This a ncient bond of shared "blood"' served co srah ilize current agreements.6 The j ewish god himself was austerely removed from such d ivinehu man co uplings. He had child ren nonetheless. Biblical claims of divine sons hip are a strong way of asserting in timacy with God. ''You are my son; today J have begotten you,'' God says on the co ro natio n day o f an lsraelice king (Psalm 27). "I will raise up your o ffs pring afcer you," God promises David. "I will be a facher to h im, and he shall be a son to me"' (2 Samuel 7: tl,t4: larer Christians referred such passages to jesus). So too wich the entire people o f Israel, whose h iscorical (thus eth nic) descent ran from Abraham through Jsaac to jacob. " Jsrael is my fi rst-born son/' God announces in Exod us 4:22, and the image recurs often throughour jewish scripture. The a postle Paul, repeating t his b iblical commonplace. distinguished h is genos from o thers by referring co their sacred "sonship" (for example, ac Roman s 9=4). Those members of the nations whom Paul evangelized achieve rh is filial status through ..adoption.'' Baprism brings th em in to the family as "sons": like Ch risc, they can address Israel's god as "Abba, Father" (e.g., Gala-

rians +5-?; Romans 8:t5). Lacer, in the second an d third ce nruries, when non-jewish C hristian commun ities sought co formulate t heir idencity, rhey roo fell back o n rhis narive J\ claiming that their commun ity constituted a new "race 1• (geiJ-os).7

••• a bo ut god s and h u man s mean practically fo r th e way that a ncient peoples lived? They meant that, fi rstJ in an age of empire, gods bumped up against each other with some frequenC)'> even as their humans d id. The larger the politkaJ u nit, th e g reater the n um ber of differenr peoples and rhus the g reater rhe number of gods. An d rhe g reater the n umber of gods and of peoples, the g rearer rhe plurality of cultic practices, bec.ause d iffe rent peoples naturally had t heir own ancestral customs. Ancient ern pi res. in other words, accommodated as a matter of course a wide range of religious practices. To see ch is acco mmodation as "religious tolerance'' is to m isunderstan d it. WNAT 010 TN ESE I DEAS

Ancient societ)' was nor liberal in the sense that modern civil societies rend (or tq') to be. But it was, of p racticaJ necessity, pluralistic. Religious diffe rences were a normal fac t o f life. Put differendy: A mark of successful empire (the subord ination of many different peoples to a larger government) was the variety of gods and the range of tradirionaJ practices that it encompassed (since many peoples meant. natu rally, many gods). Second> the existence or nonexistence of ch e gods o f o utsiders (those of a d iffe rent getws or natio) was not a t issue. Ancienr peoples gen erally assum ed chat various gods existed, just as their h umans did. \Vhen these godS:, \\~th their hu mans, were encountered, various kinds of recognit ions and acknowledgments might occur. \Vhen Alexander conquered Egypt> for e.xample. a priest o f th e god Ammon greeted him as Ammon's son. Deified himself, Alexander was depicted o n coins in gorgeous HeiJenistic profile, the ram's horns of the Eg)'prian deicy growing our of h is head . As cult ures e nco un tered each other, t heir gods might be identified with) associated with, o r assimilated to each o ther. Thus the Roman Jup iter rook on characteristics of the Greek Zeus~ statues of the Roman Minerva replicated aspects of Athena; in-

Gods and rluir Humans .

II

digenous Semitic gods (such as Ba'al sbamin, " lord of heaven") gained currency b)• being p resented under Olympian names ("Zeus"). When different peoples clashed, t heir gods were imagined as lighting, too. Bur t his was not alwa)'S the case. The Romans, ever practical, began sieges by addressing the presiding deities of t he enemy. Through r itu· als of evocatio ("'calling out't the Romans summoned the city's gods to come over ro them, pro mising in exchange for victory ro respect and to continue rheir cult.8 The Bible reveals a similar sensibilirv. Accusromed as we are to •

seeing our own modern monotheism mirro red in its verses, scripture's messier monotheism can be harder ro discern. Ocher gods, nonetheless, still peek t hrough the biblical text. "Who is like you, 0 Lord, among the gods?" sings Moses (Exodus 15:11). "You shall have no other gods before (or besides) me," che god of Israel insists (20:)). "All t he peoples walk, each in the name of its god," says the prophet Micah, "bur we will walk in the name of the Lord our god forever and ever" (Micah 4:5). Borh in law and in prophetic texts, ancien t Jews condemned "images" or "idols,'' those human p roductio ns that represented t he divine personalities worshiped by other nations. The god of Israel, in his self-revelation at Sinai, forbade his people this style of worship (and Exodus 32, t he story of t he Golden Calf and God's response to it, preserved a stand ing cautionary tale). Later Jews in the \vestern Diaspora certainly thought that idol worship lowered the moral tone of pagan society: Paul in Romans J:18-32 rendered a particularly full-throated indictment. Some Jewish \\'rirers, like the au thor of t he Book of Tobit (second cenru ry n.c.e.?), looked fo rward to rhe day when the nations would wake up and destroy their manmade images (14:6). The idols, however, were not the d ivinities themselves.? The Bible's casual acknowledgment of t he existence of other gods stands in srark cono·ast co its repeated injunction thar Jsrael must worship o nly lsrael's god and must never use lrnages ro do so. ln t he Hellenistic and Roman periods, rhese two characteristics o f jewish religious p ractice-a p rincipled cu1tic exclusivism and aniconic worship- were often remarked on by outsiders. But ancient jews lived in the same world as rheir pagan contemporaries, which means that the),.

12 •

AUGUSTI~E

AN I) THl! JEWS

lived with other gods as well. Jews thought that their 0\111 god was the best, the truest, the mightiest. jews o f an apocalyptic bene, as we shall see, looked forward ro the day when the gods of the nario ns, together with their humans, would acknowledge the god of Israel alone as supreme. In the meantime, however, rhese other gods co nti nued to in·

habit the human landscape too. The existence o f these lesser divinities was a marter of expe rience, not a question of"belief. '' Paul, for example, complained thar these beings artempted to impede his m ission. "'The god o f this cosmos," he protested to one o f his communities, "has blinded the rnind.s of unbe-

lievers" (1 Corinthians 4:4). Such beings, he tells gentile Christians in Galatia, are nor gods by nature but mere stoicheia ("elements ..). celestial ligluweighcs unworthy of fear or of worship (Galatians 4:8-9. Note rhat Paul o nly demeans the cosmic status of these beings; he does not

deny their effects and thus their exiscence). Idols-those figural representations of gods that are made by men-Paul insists are "nothing'' (1 Co rinthians 8:4, t0:19). The gods represented by these idols are actually only demons (and thus oflower status than the "living and true" God; J

Corinthians l0 :19-20; 1 Thessalo nians J:9. The Septuagint, centuries

earlier, had identified them as such: "The gods of the nario ns are dai mo11rs"; Psal m 95:)). Both earth and heaven hold "so·called gods"-"in· deed rhere are many gods and many lo rds," Paul notes co his Gentiles in Corinth. Nonetheless, he insists, his congregarlons musr rurn from

chese other, lower gods and lords to worship the god of Israel alone, cogecher wich the one lord, Jesus Christ (t Corinchians 8:5-6). When rhe risen Christ returnS:, Paul explains, he will defeat these cosmic encities, who at rhar point will themselves acknowledge the god oflsraeJ

(1 Corinthians Jj:24-27). They too will bend knee co che victorious Jesus (Philippians 2:10). Bur jewish apocal)'ptic co nvictio ns, such as Paul expresses to his communities, represent an exrreme attitude toward foreign gods and

rhus are by defi nition exceptio nal. On a day-to-day basis, for Jews as well as for others) whar mattered was deciding ho\v to deal with the

gods of outsiders while dealing with their humans as wdl. This was a practicaJ question: Any god by definition was more powerful rhan any

human, and gods as a g ro up cended to be incensed when slighted. In

Gods JIJd Tbt'ir Hum.uu · IJ

general, most people o pted fo r a sensible display of courtesy, showing and (perha ps just as important) being seen to show respect. Such co urtesy \vent a long way toward establishing concord both with other gods (who, if angered, could be dangerous) an d with their equally sensitive h uman s. Third, this anciem identifica tion of gods and peoples in the Greco-Ro man world meant that p iety required fi rst of all the honoring of one's oum gods according to ancesn·al cuscom. Ethnicity and antiquity \vere the measure of religious respectability a nd sources o f pride. The cerms designating proper religious behavior reflect t his defin ition. Ttt patri.a hili., p11tria nomima, mos maiorwm, pamdosis patrikOn: All these phrases translate as "ancestral custom."' No marter how odd a practice might seem-and other people's practices could str ike outside o bservers as odd indeed-if it were ancient and traditional, it co uld to that degree be understood and accepted as appropriate to that particular etlmos.10 Fourth a nd fi nally, the dense religious and rhus ethn ic multiplicity of ancient empire was o ffset by rh e bind ing power of two transethnic cultic instinttions: civic o rganizat ion and the cult of the ruler. Both were key aspects o f the legacy of Alexander, and both had a last· ing effect on Roman religio n and po lit ics, even after the Ro man Empire became Christian. To civic organization first . .Moderns rend to think of cit ies as densely populated secular space: Jndividual commu nities within a cit)' might be "religious,'' but the city itself is neutral. In antiquity it was otherwise. Ancient .Mediterranean cities were themselves religious instit utions, which their citizens an d residents were collectively responsible fo r maintaining. The urban elites who man ned an tiquity's town councils were, as magisn·ares 1 also priests. So were Ro man emperors t hemselves, beginning with Augustus. Through innumerable public a nd communal rituals-processions, b lood sacrifices. dancing> hymns, plays, co mpetitions both a thletic a nd musical-citizens and residen ts displayed t heir respect fo r the heavenly pa trons o f their city, thereb)' ensur ing divine favo r. Further, the opening of a city council, the convening ofa court of law, the e njoyment o f an d participation in cul tural events such as rhetorical> theatr ical, o r athletic competitions- all ac-

riviries chat moderns experience as religiously neurraJ- in antiquity honored ch e gods.*' Public displays of piety measured civic responsibility. Indeed, to be a citizen meant co take responsibility for the cult of the cit)r's gods. These forms of social activit)'> by publicly demonsrrating respect for t he gods who superintended the well-being of t he city, like\\;se bound che city's inhabirants together while articulating che social rankings organizing rh em. Civic cult frequently involved shared eating, and shared eating forged bonds between citizens and other residents1 just as the sacrifices through which the gods "ate" forged a nd maintained t he bonds between heaven a nd earth. T hus a ncient civic rit ua] established a nd consolidated necessary relations with powerful patrons both celestial and (since rulers, too> received d ivine honors) terrestrial. Neglect of these responsib ilities was impious, a nd impiety risked divine anger, \vhich could be man ifest in any number of dangerous ways-drought> flood, plague, earthquake, invading armies. Proper cult pleased gods. When gods were happy, cities prospered. Finally, t he cu lt of t he ruler. introduced in to the Jvlediterranean wo1i d rh rough Alexander, was adapted a nd adopted by Rome. T he em· perors from Augustus on ruled and protected the commonwealth as heaven's special agent on earth . After death, rransla ted to a higher realm, t hey continued to serve as the e rnp ire's special agents. Imperial cult served both soldier and civilian, focusing t he allegiance and piety of the army while notionaJiy binding the empire•s wide-tlun g municipalities both politically and religiously (rerms chat a re virtually syn· onymous in this contexc). Establishing a cult co the emperor and h is family brought honor to one's ciry a nd rhe possibility of imperial pa· tronage. And to offer to the emperor, as to t h e goddess Roma (the di· vine personificadon of che city)> was to offer as well for the empire. Inscriptions identified the ruler as "divine'' (diems). Jn provincial temples and privace shrines, t he emperor whether living or dead cou]d a lso be referred co as "god" (dms in Latin; tbeos in Greek). Temples, priests, feast days, blood offerings, images1 incense, processions, ritual prostrations, fesrive gladiatorial combats: Through aU t hese mea ns, citizen s of the empire enacted divine honors to th e emperor. (Jewish cidzens, in light of cheir a ncestral customs, were excu sed from such

Gods aud Thtir Ht01r.r ns • lJ

liturgies.) After 312 c.E., wit h his decision to become a patron o f the chu rch, Constan tine eventually banned b lood offerings, but all t he resc o f the imJ'<'rial cult perd u red lo ng into the Christian period. (Jews o nce again were excused.) And d eceased Christian empero rs, like their earlier pagan counterparts, contin ued to be venerated as heaven's special residents, well-placed celescial patro ns of th e empire below. In short, like t he civic cults, t he ru]er cu h: served co b ind citizens together even as it bound together heaven a nd earth. lc too helped esta blish and mai ntain the pax deorum {"the peace o f the gods"} o r, after Consta ntine, the pax dei ("the peace o f God"), t hat benevolent concordan t between humanity and divin ity upo n which d epended the commonweal.tl

2

+

GO DS AN D THE ON E GO D

It is a tlut1111!l to be gready respected tha~ while all tbe natiom subju.gated b)l Rome rvetJt over to the rituals of Rom,m worship) taking tsp those Sda·ilegious msroms and celebration.•, the jewish ndtitm rmderforeigtJ monarchs rvhedJer pagan m· Christian has never lost tbe sigtJ of tbeit· law, by tvbicb tbey are distinguished from all other tJatiom atJd peoples. AUG USTIN It ,

AG:IINSr FIIUSTUS

12. 13

L e Greek Diaspo ra ca used by Alexander's vicrories pulled o ther peoples in tow. His conquests led to the wholesale resettlement of Greek veterans and merchants in his new territories. Immigran ts followed in their wake. Am ong them were ancient Jews. Israel's experience ce nruries earlier under rhe Babylonian Nebuchad nezzar had been tra umatic. In 586 B.C.E., that king destroyed Solomon•s temple and Jerusalem>sending captive Judeans into exile in Babylon. Under and after Alexander, by contrast, Jews relocated voluntarily. As supporters o f Hellen istic regimes. whether as merchan ts, merc~maries, o r regular soldiers, th ey willin gly chose to move ou t in to t he broader Heiienistic world: Diaspora ('"dispe rsion'') was not exile. These Mediterranean Jews (or Judeans; either word translates the Greek ioudai01) came in time to view their diaspora commun ities as ''co lo nies., of the metropolis, the ''mother city" Jerusalem. Their city of residence became fo r them a p.1tria, their "fatherland'' and horne.1 lly the dawn of the Chr istian era, Jews had been settled fo r centuries eveql\vhere th roughout the Hellenistic world and in Italy as welL 1 Macca bees. a Jewish text composed in the mid-second cent ury B.c.e..> mentio ns substan tiaJ western je\\~sh populations in Eg)•pt, Syria, the cities and p rincipaJities o f Asia Minor> the Aegean islands,

Gods and the

011(0

God ·

.1 7

Greece proper, Crete, Cyprus, and Cyrene o n the northem coasr of Africa (1 Maccabees 15:22-23). The Jewish historian Josephus, a contemporary of the evangelists, preserves a remark by the pagan geographer and historian Strabo, himself an elder contemporary of Jesus of Nazareth. "This people,.. Srrabo noted, "has made its way inro eveq' city, and ir is not easy to find any place in the habitable world which has not received (them!" ( Josephus, Antiquities 14.115). Establishing themselves in their new cities of residence, these Jews, over the co urse of rhe centuries after Alexander, absorbed and adapted Greek language and culture. As rheir vernacular shifted from Aramaic to Greek, their scripcures shifted too. By about 200 B.C.E., Jews in Alexandria had completed the Septuaginr (LXX), the translation of their sacred texts into Greek. Thro ugh this medium, traditional jewjsh ideas abour divinity, worship, crearion, ethics} piety, and practice came ro be broadcasr in the international l.inguistk frequency. And d ue ro this same fact of translation, the vocabulary of paideia-Greek high cul tural ideas abour diviniry, humanity, cosmology, and governrnent- was established within the biblical text. This creative interpeneo·ation of Jewish and Greek ideas had enormous conseq uences for \Vesrern culture. Indeed, without the Septuagint, ir is impossible to imagine the eventual spread and growth ofChristianjty. Living among Greeks in the ciries of the western Diaspora, Jews also lived among Greek gods. Their new environment encouraged an attitude toward this pantheon that differed markedly from their scriptures' contempt for the pantheons of the Canaanires and Philistines. The Bible often reviled the other Semitic gods for inspiring human idolatry, sexual licentiousness, and infanticide. The behavio r of Greek gods, as described in ancienr poetry, was no less unsavory. Yet rhe classical deities, deeply integrared into the life of rhe polis, evenrually acquired "culture" via the ingenious interpretations of their welleducated human followers. Through the literar)' canon that shaped Hellenistic educacion- Homer and Hesiod; Sophocles, Euripides, and Aeschylus~ comedians, grammar ians, literary critics, rhetoriciansthese gods dominated education itself. To rhe degree rhat wesrern Jews availed rhem..selves of the oppo nunities offered by rheir new Hellenistic environment, to that degree they made rheir peace with Greek

1& • All
gods, arou nd whose cults pulsed the polit ical and cultural life of t heir cities. The Alexandrian translators of the Septuagin t~ moving their sacred text fro m Hebrew into Greek~ seem co have acknowledged, delicately, t heir new circumstances. Coming u po n the Hebrew o f Exodus 22:27, t hey altered the pro hibition against reviling "God" (elohim, a Hebrew plural fo rm used fo r the singular Jewish deity) to "Do not revile the gods" (Greek: ums theous; Exodus 22:28 LXX).' HeiJenistic ciry life put Jews in a potent ially awkward situa tion. Like everyone else, Jews (or ''judeans") had th eir own ancestral, thus ethnic, trad itions. Bu t unlike anyone else, Jews were in principle restricted by their t raditions ro \vorship ing o nly their own god. Some pagan observers co mmented irritably on this fact, complaining o f Jewish civic irrespo nsibility or d isloyalcy or impiery o r a t least discourtesy. Bu t majority culrure was extremely capacious, a nd respect fo r a ncestral t radition was the bedrock of Mediterranean religious, political, and legal civilization. Thus, despite evidence of pagan irritation or offe nse, we also have evidence of pagan patience a nd even sympathy. By and large, these people \vere prepared to make allowances for Jewish religious difference even on this po int ofJudaism's (odd} n drir exdusivism, precisely because o f j udaism's ethnicity and antiquiry.l Bur how exclusive were ancient jews? They served as town council membe rs, as athletes, as actors, as pan·o ns of pagan festivals! as offi. cers in gentile armies: All of these activities touched o n cult to o ther gods. All such Jews o bviously managed to find ways to benefit from and to contribute to local Greek cult ure, serving both their own traditions and those of their cities. They learned how to live with nonjewish neighbors and/or fellow cit izens, and thus with their gods as well. To repeat: That these other gods existed was a matter of experie nce, not a questio n of belief Sometimes we fi nd evidence of je\vs' acknowledging these gods and demonstrating respect for them. ln the third century u.c.E., rwo local d eities appeared in a d ream to Moschos son o f Moschion, ordering him to fi·ee o ne of h is slaves. He did so, in stalling the record o f his o bedience in their temple. Nonetheless, in this inscription, lvfos.chos ident ified himsel f as Joud4ios, "Judean" o r "Jew." (Either tran slation works> because ancienr ethn icity and religion

Gods and the On~ God · 19

stand o n the same contin uum.) A century later, o ne Niketas from Jerusalem gave a hundred drachmas in supporr of a festival dedicated to Dionysus. Higher up t he social scale, we fi nd t he example of Herod the G reat, king o f the Jews (d. 4 B.C. E.}. Famous fo r keeping che purity and food laws o f h is people, Herod insisted that a Gentile who sought marriage with his sister fi rst be circumcised; and he also gloriously re-furbished the Temple in Jerusalem. Yet Herod also built temples co foreign gods and to the empero rs, and he spo nsored O lympic games, dedicated to Zeus. Diaspora Jews seem no less flexi ble. Pious inscriptions from the Bosporus, co nsigning new freed men to the care of the syn agogue, open with praise to the "almighty god " and close with a nod to heaven, earth. and sky: Zeus, Gaia, and Helios. (Cf. Isaiah c2: ''Hear) 0 heavens) and give ear, 0 earth!"} And Jews m ig ht install inscriptions to their own god in pagan temples.-! How do \Ve understand this behavior? \Vere ancient jews not "monotheists'? By modern measure, yes and no. Their god, the god o f Israel, was for them the h ighest and mightiest god. By living according to ancestral custom ("the traditions o f my fathers,"' as Paul says; Galatians t:14},j ews enacted their respect fo r and their fidelity to their own god. (Both jews and outsiders identified these customs most comrnonly with Sabbath, food la\VS) and, for males, circumcision.} But these Jews were anc.if'nt monotheists. This meant that they (like the a posd e Paul) knew thac heaven and earth held other, lower divine personalities and fo rces as well. Jn certain circumstances, these divinities could be:J and were) acknowledged. The circumstances mattered. The man um ission inscripd ons mentioned earlier record pious individ ual acts, not civic communal ones. And Herod, by contrast> was a very public figure and the empire's loyal client: His political status obligaced him co make lavish displays o f largesse and of loyalty to Ro me. Neither set o f acrivicies need be seen as contravening "Jewish tradition," which (then as now) was incerpreced d iffe rently b)' diffe rent Jews in diffe rent p laces. Buc when in the second century B.C.E. a fo reign king> Anriochus JV, in trod uced Greek cult into jerusalem's templeJ the Maccabae:an revolc erupted, event uating in the establishment of a jewish kingdom under the victorious family of the Hasmoneans. And Caligula'.s effort to put his own statue

10 · AUGUSTINE ANI> T HE J EWS

in the Temple in 40 c.E. Ied to a massive strike in Judea an d Galilee and g rim predictions of an empirewide revolt. (Caligula's assassination averted the crisis.) The worship o f images-especially in the Temple in Jerusalem-was for Jews expressly forbidden by t h eir tradition. For this reason (the unhapp}' exceptions of Anriochus a nd Caligula to one side), aut horities routinely excused Jews, whether as loyal provincials or as Roman citizens., fro m obligations ro the gods of majority culture. The schools and th e courts, the councils, the theaters: All of these organs of the city provided o ne context for shared social (and to that degree, religious) activity between pagans and Jews in the Diaspora. jewish adolescents received good Greek educations in their cicies• gym· nasia and so joined the ran ks of the ephebe~ young adolescent males whose mun icipal duties entailed participating in cornpedtions dedicated ro the gods. Jews participated both as contestants and as spectators ar these events. (Again, given the intrinsically religious nature. of such activicies, the modern analogy is less to t he Super Bowl o r to Carnegie Hall than to high mass.) Every t ime we find a jewish ephebe, a Jewish town counselor, a jewish soldier o r actor o r a thlete, we find a Jew identified as a Jew who nonetheless spent part of his ·working da~· demonstrating courtesy toward gods not his. And while Jews in prin· ciple did not join actively in rh e sacrifices attendant upon rhe ruler cults native ro Hellen istic a nd, later, Roman culture, rhey dedica ted their synagogues ro rhese rulers (who were divine figu res for rhe local majority) and in Jerusalem made offerings on the empe ror's behalf. Prayers were offered not to rulers but for them.5

••• TWO JEWISH INSTITUTIONs-one local>o ne distant-served to express and to instill a special sense ofJewish identiry while ar t he same time providing) as these foreign dries did, a context for shared social and reLigious acrivities between Jews and pagans. 'TOe local institution was the "synagogue.'' Ancient literat ure and inscriptions sometimes use the renn S)'IJagOgC to designate the assem· bly of t helocaljewish community itself. Proseuc/J
Gods .tfJd rh~· Ont God ·

21

legistm, s;•nodos, politetmla, commsmitas). From Italy to Syria, from the Black Sea co North Africa, remnants of these fou ndations have been recovered. \Vherever there were Jews, it seems, there \vere synagogues. Ancient synagogues appear to have functio ned as community centers. They were also a type of ethnic reading house, where Jews could gather at least o nce every seven days co hear instruction in rheir ancestral laws. ("Fro rn earl}' generations Moses has had in every city those who preach him,"J remarks James> Jesus' brother, in the Acts of the Apostles, "for he is read "''"Y Sabbath in the synagogues"; tp t.) O n the analogy of pagan remples, synagogues could sen" as places where manumissions were enacted and recorded; and some pagan rulers gave synagogues, like temples, the srarus of places of asylum. Synagogue o rganizations hosted co mmunity fasts, feasts) and celebrations; they held archives of co mmunity records and copies of sacred books. They settled issues of community interest: announcing rhe calendar of festivals, negodating access to appro priate foodscuffs with the civic authorities, adjudicating internal disputes. They spo nsored fund drives, and rhey honored conspicuous philanthro py with public inscriptions. An intriguing number of big donors co diasporajewish com munities were not themselves Jews. They were pagans, and the record of their benefactions affords us a glim pse of the m ixed population that supported synagogue activities. One especially striking inscriptio n> from Acmonia in Phrygia., recalls the generosity of a first-centu ry Roman noblewoman, Julia Severa. This distinguished lady, a high priestess in the imperial cult (rhus publicly responsible for the worship given the Julian emperors), had paid for the synagogue building itself. Another very wealthy pagan lady in the third-century c.E., o ne Capitolina, recorded that she had (lavishly) furnished a synagogue interio r. jews in Aphrodisias in Asia Mino r, sponsoring a fund d rive of some sort (fourch o r fifth century c .E.), inscribed their donor monument with names of sponsors specified by affiliation: "native" jews, converts ro Judaism ("proselytes•')) and gentile sympathizers ("god-fearers")> whether pagan or (in view of the inscription's late dace) perhaps Christian. Nine in this last group were members of the town council. And synagogues elsewhere beneficed from the patro n-

H

• ,\UG UST I NI! AN O THE p:WS

age of city magistrates, whose generosity t he.y d uly p roclai med in srone.6 ..fb is same picture o f mixed populations in diaspora Jewish communities, teased from epigraphy, is supported by varied literary evidence. Professional magicians, fo r example1 evidently dropped by the synagogue to hear stories of a powerful god whom they could later evoke in their own spells. In the recipe books t hat th ey left behind, we find "magical" Hebrew (or Hebrew-like) words, as well as biblical e pisodes- badly garb led- that co uld easily have been picked up by listening to the Septuagint rea d and expo unded, as jewish corn munities were known to do every week. And a ncientjewsJ like their pagan counterparts, freque mly celebrated t heir holy days out of doors, singing, dancing~ processing, eating. The visibilit).. of such celebrations invited the interest and the pa rticipation of outsiders, as Philo of Alexa ndria (d. 50 c.E.?) a ttests. Philo d escribes an outdoor meal o n a beach just o u tside rhe d ry p roper, "where not only Jews bur also mu ltitudes of o thers cross the warer co do honor to rhe place l the site according to trad ition where the Sepruagint was t ra nslated] ... and also to give thanks to God " (lifo ofMoses 2-41-42). Both modem scholars and ancient o bservers refer co these inter· ested pagans as "god -fearers," and indeed that is how they referred to themselves. Another word used, both then and now, is "Judaizers." The terms are elastic, which fi ts the imprecision of o ur ancient data and o f the p henomena that they witness to. Occasional pagan involvement stands at o ne end of ch is behavioral spectrum, but levels of engageln ent \Vere known to increase. As pagan , jewish, and la ter Christian sources tell us, in terested pagans sometimes chose to assume some specifically jewish o bservances and to involve th emselves in more sustai ned ways with the activit ies of their j ewish neighbors. Ancient sources speak (and the non-jewish o nes complain) n1ost o ften a bout pagan s who assu me dietary restr ictions o r Sabbath observance or who participate in major jewish fasts (such as Yo m Kippur) or feasts (such as Passover). The Gospel of Luke tells the srory of a centurion inCa pernaum in the Galilee, evidently a Gentile, who solicits a cure from jesus. In support o f h is request, the Pharisees praise him as o ne who "loves our narion, and he built us our S)'nagogue''-an exa mple o f the

Gods and tht' Oth' God · l J

god-feare r-as-patro n (Luke 75). An other centurion , Cornelius) is identified explicitly as a god-fea rer. Though a worshiper of Ro man gods (since he is a commander in Rome•s army)> Cornelius d istinguishes himself through pious acts that Jews habi tually associated with Judaism: co nspicuous chari ty to the poor and consran t prayer ro God (Acts 10:2). Acts also depicts a significan t gendle presence within the jewish communkies of the Diaspora: Sebomenoi- rhac is, pagan "godfearers"- hear th e gospel t h rough t he synagogue.' The poinc_, fo r o ur p resenr purpose, is that these pagans, when t hey so chose, participa ted .1s pagan.s in Jewish communal activities. For pagans, multiple religious allegiances were entirely normal~ indeed, majoricy culture usually accorn modated this sore of openness to vario us cults. These Gentiles freely assumed as much or as little of Jewish a ncestraJ practices as they cared co, while continuing u nimpeded (as the case o f j ulia Severa demonstrares) in their own cults as well. No fo rmal constrain ts from the pagan side seem to have abridged this ad hoc, improvised, volun tary> and evidently comfortable arrangement. Nor, it must be srressed, did Jews irn pose constraints on this pagan support: After all, the deman d for exclusi\•e worship had been given by Israel's god to Israel alone. Welcoming the material support an d encouraging rhe interest and even the admiration of those from the host pagan majority, fu rthermore, simply made good sense, both socially and poli tically. Exclusive for insiders (Jews in princip le were not to worship fo reign gods),Judaism was thus inclusive fo r oucsiders (inrerested Gentiles, wherh er pagan o r, event ually, Christian, \vere welcomed). Jn the cities of antiquicy, ir seems~ no fe nces made good neighbo rs, and the give-and-take among commu nities with in these cities contr ibuted to ch e maintenance of the in tereth nic, rhus interreligious urban ecosystem. As with synagogue build ings in the Diaspora, so wit h the Temple in Jerusalem: It roo p rovided a common space for jews a nd pagans. The Temple \Vas the prime Jewish instit ution that served to focus Jewish identity at home a nd abroad, while also accommodating interested o utsiders. jews from everywhere within the empire and beyond came to Jerusalem on pilgrimage. For the lace spring festival ofShavuoc (Greek "Penrecost'·'), the Acts of the Apostles in the New Testament lisrs Jewish

24 • AliGUSTII'JE AN'D Tllll. J EWS

pilgrims from Pa rthia, Mesopotamia, che Black Sea, Asia Minor, Egypt, Libya, Crete, Roman Arabia, and Rome itself (Acts 2:9-11). Interested pagans came as well, especially for the grand festivals: Both the Gospel of jo hn and joseph us mention such people, especial!}' in connection with Passover (John 12:.20; Antiquities 14.110). Those jews who d id not make t he jou rney-thevasdy greater majorit:y-could conrribure annually co defray rh e Temple's overhead expenses. This volunraq' donation of the "Temple tax," a half shekel or t\vo drachmas, in effect enabled Jews far off to panicipate in t he enactment o f their people's ancient cult. The funds they collected could be so considerable that t heir cities of residence occasionally sought to appropriate these mon ies for more local use. But pagan authorities honored the Jews' ancestral cuscom and guaranteed their right to collecc and to send this donation o n co Jerusalem. As a result of these volu nt ary donations, Jerusalem ran in t he black for as long as t he Temple stood.' Under He rod t he Great, king from 37 to 4 •.c.E., the Temple reached rhe acme of its splendor. Herod expanded rh e area around the old sancruary to some thirt)' five acres, enclosing it with a rnagnificent wall that ra n nine tent hs of a mile along its perimeter. Concentric courtyards of graduated size ringed rhe Temple's imerior sacred space. Jrs innermost sancrum was entirely empty, given over to the presence of the people's god. Next, dedicated to h is service and regulated by an· dent puri ty codes, stood the court of h is priests, who supervised offerings at the altar. Two othercourrs circumscribed this area. the inner one for jewish men> the o uter fo r Jewish \vomen. Bur t he whole was surrounded by rhe vast and beautiful stone tund ra of che Gentiles' Court, or the Court of the Nations. Gentiles and je\\:s would mingle in 4

4

ch is space> which Jews necessarily traversed ro reach th eir own courts for cult activity. As in che diaspora synagogue, so in jerusalem's rem· pie: Pagans as paga ns had a p lace to show respect fo r Israel's god ("a house of prayer for all the nations" in the prophet's famous phrase; Isaiah 567). In fact, ar rhe Temple, t hey had t he largesr courr of all. Is· rael's priests, meamvhile, burned offerings at God's altar on behalf of rh e imperial family and t he empire. Traditional p ietr, ethn ic p ride> international politics, tourism, public pomp: lt all came together in Herod's extraordinarily beaut iful building.

••• of comfo rtable )e\\~sh-pagan interactions sho uld not suggest that patience \'lith foreign gods was embraced u niversally as a virtue) o r that social life was friction free. \Vhen they so desired. Hellenistic jews could formulate their own teaching o f contempt, taking aim at pagan contemporaries> expatiating o n the immoral and demeaning consequences of idolatry. "How miserable are those, their hopes set on dead things, who give the name 'gods' to t he works o f hu man hands," chides the (Alexand rian?} author of Wisdom o f Solomon, sometime in rhe first century s.c.E. {\X'isdorn tj:tO). Such people k ill children in their initiation ce remo nies and give t hemselves over to frenzied reveling; they defile their own marriages with adultery, their societies with treachero us mu rders; they p rophesy falsehoods and commit perjury; they lie> cheat, and steal (\Visdom q:2j- 28}. Pa ul rhe apostle, a h un dred years later, repeats and amplifies \Visdom's themes. Pagans degrade themselves with passio ns and with unnat ural sexual acts; their minds a re debased> their ways maJicious, their societies violent (Romans t:tS-32). This rheto ric could heat up real life. The disastrous war against Rome began in Caesarea, where pagan sacrifices, p rovocatively staged dose ro a synagogue> goaded local jews to riot and eventually led the country in to o pen rebellio n (JewisiJ Wl,r 2.28)- 288). And d u ring the mysterious uprising o f the jews o f Cyprus and Cyren e in the years between the first j udean revolt {66"73 c .E.) and the last ( tj2- tjj c.e., under Bar Kokhba), the bloodshed was accompanied by the deliberate desecratio n and destruction of pagan temples} Ancient pagan evidence also bespeaks various grievances, these directed against d iaspora jewish communities and against och er resident foreign groups. Then as now> glo balization and multiethnic, multicultural empire provided o pportunities for the cultivation o f ethn ic stereo typing, racial p rejudice, and occasionally (as-notorio usly-in Alexandria, that most cosmopolitan of ancient cities) fits o f in terethnic violence. Greek and Ro man in tellectuals sounded xenophobic themes in th eir writings: Foreigners, they feared, would pollute the b lood, the traditions, and the moral fi be r of their culture. In t he cap ical itself, th e governing elite was particularly zealous to guard T H IS PICTURE

26 · AUGUSTINE ASO THE J EWS

rhe purity of Roman religion. From time to time the Senate ord ered rhe expulsions of foreigners and rheir cults-along with astrologers and magicians-from the city. It> These da..ssicaJ aurhors penned bilious remarks. They cornplained that Jews were antisocial> hareful to outsiders, sexually profligate, lazy (because resting one day our o f every seven), and cannibalistic. tvlodem readers, looking back through rhe anti-Semiric horrors of midtwentieth-cent ury Europe and the vio lence of medieval Christian anti-Judaism> are particularly sensitive to the anti Jewish prejudices ex pressed b)' rhe.se ancient writers. This sensiriviry ea.sil),. obscures the fact that classical authors, in maligning Jews and Judaism, conferred no special d istinction upo n then1. Egyptians, Parthians, and Persians; Gauls, Brirons, and Germans: All came in for their share o f swingeing insults and derogatory d escriptions, many o f them the same as those aimed at jews. (Egyptians, said rhese writers) were also lazy; like jews, Britons, and Germans, chey also are human Aesh; and so o n.) In the world oflearned Greco-Roman ethnic prejudice, as one historian has noted, even the stereotypes ''.:ere stereoryped.u O ne ancestral tradition particular ro judaism, however, did single jews o ur fo r viruperation of a special sort. Jewish piety in principle focused o n the jewish god alone. The sorts of practical acco mmodations that some Jews occasionaBy made to lesser deities d id not soften, fo r ancient contemporaries, the insult of this aspect of Jewish behavior. Again, rhe fact that Jewish practices were ancient and ancesrra] fo r the mosc part legitimated them both socially and even legally, and helped jews to obtain various exemptions, protectio ns. and considerations. Majority cul ture valued eth nic loyalty as t he index o f piety. Bur chis ancient premium o n eth nic loyalty is also and precisely what accounts fo r a special c.aregory of pagan anti-Jewish hostility. T he target of this hostility was not Jews as such. b ut rather those pagans who decided to make an extreme co mmitment to jewish ancesrral practices. That is, some pagans slid from associating in synagogues with Jews, [0 voluntarily keepi ng some Jewish customs, to deciding, finally, to "beco me" Jews themseh•es. In modern idiom, pagans sometimes converred ro j udaism. An tiquity had no word for '(conversion," and concepruaJiy the act 4

4

Gods dnd tbt 011e God • 27

itself was odd. Ancient gods traveled in rhe blood; ethnicity anchored piety. How rhen could an individuaJ change his ancestors> his past, and his traditions? The closest analogue in Ro man society was legaJ adoption> another rirual creation of fictive kinship. Adoption was regulated and authorized by magistrates, who \rere themsdves priests. An adopred person>crossing kinship lines, moved aJso fro m his own family's private religious o bligations (which focused on ancestors) to assu me those of his adoptive family. For Jewish society, this crossing of the ethnic frontie r, the e:~treme degree of association rhat we term "religious conversion," was most readily understood o n the analogy of forging po litical alliances. Thus, said Philo, pagans who became ex-pagans joined the Jewish bod)' politic (the politeia; On the Special Laws 1.9-51). Hosc:ile pagan writers thought similarly, and saw in such behavior a species o f rreason. Rornan elires in particular objecred to conversion ro Judaism as by definition conduct unbefitt.ing a Roman. The converr spur ned Roman law to take up Jewish law~ he abando ned his own ancestral rites>gods, fatherland1 and family to assu me foreign ones. Lower-class people who made this e.xtreme act of affiliation were eviden tly at small o r no risk. Aristocratic Ro mans, hmvever, born into special obligations ro the gods and to the state, were in a diftfrenr situation. The emperor Domitian executed some members o f the Roman u pper class p recisely fo r lapsing into "atheism/' rhat is> fo r spurning their own gods o n accoun t of treasonable loyalty to "rhe customs of t he Jews" (Dio, Roman Histvty 67.L4.1-2).'1 The problem with Judaism> in the eyes of these pagan critics, was not its peculiar cusroms per se. The idiosyncrasy o f any ethnic culture-special days> special foods. special gods, special rules-was what marked it as specific to a particular people. But to make a commitment to a foreigll god tv the poi11t offorsakillg the gods of one's own people-a co ndition u nique ro judaism in t he pre-Ch ristian period-was to bt>/uwe with ,1/arming and imtt!titJg disloJ'
28 •

A UGUS TISE AND THE JEWS

we call"converslon." And rhe pro blem with conversion to j udaism as such was its pri ncipled exclusion of all other cult. The cultic exclusivism of born ] e\\'S \vas excused-sometimes grudgingly-because of rhe antiqui ty of Jewish cusrom. But in the convert's case, such exclusivism was adopted, not inherited; foreign, not native. The choice did not sir righr, especially with patriotic Ro mans.13 Yet pagans did convert ro j udaism in this period as in others, and majority cult ure d id acknowledge these peoples' (oddly altered) status. Their turning to the laws of another nation and their consequent dropping of what was their own nonetheless seemed ro some to insult the '"family," the birth/blood connectio n that one had to one's native genos o r natio. This was especially so {as we saw earlier in the case of the emperor Domitian) if those converting were ar istocrats, whose social ran k c.ame with special responsibilities fo r the safecy and prosperity o f their d ry. And accord ingly, since people inherited their gods, such behavior could place the whole famil)', or city, at risk. Respect for one•s own ancesrraJ customs defined piety. To abandon these customs was impious. Impiety angered gods. And angry gods usually made for unhappy h umans. ·T he complex religious ecosystem of the Greco-Ro man city provided the social context fo r the growth and spread of a very peculiar type of mid-first-cenru ry Hellenistic j udaisrn, namely, early Christianity. Like other Hellenistic Jewish communities, Ch ristian o nes welcomed symparhetk pagans~ u nlike those others, however, Christian jews actively solicited rhese pagans to join and to commir to their assembly (Greek, ekk!esia). This vigorous mission to pagans marks Christianity as a jewish movemenr specific to the Diaspora: The Diaspora, after a11, was where (most} pagans \vere. But rhe very earliest Christi anity was not a diaspora phenomenon at all If we take seriously the trad ition's own claims as embodied in the gospels> Christianity o rigi· 11ated specifically in the jewish homeland, in rhe mission and message ofJesus of Nazareth. RenoY.'lled as an exorcist and as a holy n1an, jesus had taught within the overwhelmingly je\vish comext of rura] Galilee and early1

fi rst-cen tu ry Judea. Like John t he Baptizer before him and like many of the prophetic figures in rhat regio n who preached in t he decades af-

Gods and flu

o,u God

· 29

ter him, jesus announced the impending arrival of God's kingdom. (Jesus' first statement in ~~lark's gospel>for example, is "The rime is ful filled, and the Kingdom of God is at hand!"; Mark 1:15). The Roman prefect Pontius Pilate evidently heard sedition in his message, or fea red that others did. He arrested Jesus in Jerusalem d uring the Passover holiday and crucified him as a rebel (around 30 c.E.). But shortly after jesus' execution, a sizable g roup of his followe rs reassembled. They were convinced chat they had seen Jesus again, risen from the dead.•• j e\vish ideas about the resurrection of the dead had germinated centuries earlier, \Vi thin the context of speculations about the End of the Age. Developing out of the prophecies of consolation that had flourished especially in the wake ofNebuchadnezzar's destruction of Jerusalem (aro und 586 B.c. e.), Jewish apocalyptic literature particularly flourished in the two centu ries to either side of Jesus of Nazareth's li fetime, roughly fro m the period of the Hellenistic kingdoms after Alexander to the years of the high Roman Empire. The sufferings of the righteous; a final battle between Good and Evilsometi mes led by God himself) someti mes by an archangeiJ sometimes by a messiah (or two, according co one of the Dead Sea Scroll texts}- the ingathering of the scattered people of Israel; the restoration or enlargement of]erusalem and of the Temple; the punishment of the wicked; the destructio n of idols; the fo undation of enduring, universa] peace: These vario us anticipated events> presented vario usly and in various combinatio ns in various apocaJyptic texts> would signal che coming of God 's kingdom and would mark its establishment. ApocaJyptic thought 1 in other words, represents neither a ('doctrine•' no r even a universal set of expectations. Rather, it expresses a particuJar mentality of urgency, coupled with intense religious conviction. lf times were terrible> if the wicked flourished and rhe righteous languished} rhar muse mean that God wouJd soon intervene to put rhings right, which was the way that rhey should be. The god of Israel was just, good, and powerful. He would nor tolerate for long this inversion of moral order. He would not permit history ro drift indefinicel)'- (The identities of the "wicked" and of the "righteous," of

JO • AliGVST lNE AS D Tllll. Jl!W'S

course, depended o n the perspective and the circumstances of the visionary writer.) Once one knew how to read these signs of the rimes, the codes fo r which \vere often revealed in apocalyptic rexts, one could know when the End would come, when God wou ld fulfill his long-

postponed pro mise of redemption. \Virhin rhese varied and variable traditions about rhe End time, the resurrectio n o f the dead was co nceived as a commu nal event. The idea represented an extension of the pro phetic idea of rhe ingathering of IsraeL The prophecy in Ezekiel 37, for example, can be read in t h is light. God a nd Ezekiel together ponder a valley of d ry bo nes. The Lo rd

commands; Ezekiel pro phesies. The bones rise up1 assemble, bloom with flesh, stand o n their feet, and live. ''Son of man," he said co me, "these bones ate rhe whole house of Israel. .. . [S]ay ro them, Thus sa)'S the Lord: Behold I will open

)tOUr graves, and I will raise you up, 0 my people; and I will bl'ing )'<>U home inro t he land of Israel. .. . Behold, I will rake the people

of Israel from t he nations among ''.:hich rhey haw gone~ and I \\~II gather rhem fi'Om all sides . . . . My servant David shall be king over t hem. ... My dwelling place shall be with them; I "; 11 be t heir god, a nd they shall be my people."

In other visions, chis idea o f communal resurrection and homecoming extended even more b road ly. Not only a.ll of Israel, living and d ead, would reassemble in Jerusalem; all of the dead> the nations as well, would be raised, and everyone judged. The wicked would receive rheir well-deserved reward~ at last>so would the just. Establishing finally h is unchallenged reign, God would p lant Israel back in the Land, while giving rhe nations a place also alongside the Jews in his king-

dom.1.> 'TOe earliest d isciples' experiences of the risen jesus th us represented an anomaly in the perspective of t his tradition. The resurrection of rhe dead had been imagined as a communal event, not an individ ual episode~ and in any case, resurrection was not to precede these other prophesied End -time events. And what possible meaning

Gods and tlu• Onr G.,d · 31

could an individual resurrection have, especiall)' as t he world continued o n just as it had before? Jesus' followe rs made a bold in ference. The miracle o f his resurrection, they p roclaimed, confirmed Jesus' orig inal prophecy: The kingdo m really WM at hand> the redemption o f Israel and the t ransfo nnacion of the world really was about to begin. And jesus h imself, they declared, was rhe kingdom's messiah. His firs t coming had e nded nor wit h his cruci fixio n but with his glorious resu rrectio n. His second coming would restore life to the d ead, defeat once for all t he power o f evil, gather in t he elect>and estab lish God's kingdom.c6 This good news o f che imminent redemption of Israel spread rapidly. Fired by their co nvictions, some o f Jesus' early followers took rhis message from Jerusalem throughour Judea, along th e seacoast and u p into Asia Minor, following pathways laid o ur by t he network o f synagogue commun ities. There th ey encoun tered what was for th em a new social reality: These diaspora synagogues, unlike their counterparts in Galilee and Judea, held interesred pagans in significanr numbers. Together with some of the synagogues' Jews (such as, eventually though not in itially, Paul), some of these pagans also responded positively to earliest Ch ristian ity's apocalyptic message. 1i How did these early jewish missionaries, so shortly after jesus' execution, react co chis unan ticipated pagan respo nse? As we can see fro m Pau l's letters, mid-fi rst century, the fi rst generation d id not know quite how to proceed. Some missionaries (like Paul and th ose in h is circle) argued fo r t hese Ch ristian Gentiles to be received , though provisionally, as Gentiles. As long as they behaved in certain ways-and a bove all, as we shall shortly see, in a specifically public, jewish waythey could join in a nd with the new commun ity. Other Christian missionaries stro ngly dissented from this view and pressed for more fo nnal affiliation to j udaisrn-not o nly th e same Jewish public behavior chat Paul insisted on but also Jewish private behavior. circu mcision fo r male pagans, actenrion to Israel's calendar, a nd th e comm icted maintenance ofJewish ancestral custom. Jn other words, conversion to Judaism. The confusio ns and vigorous disagreernents of th is fi rst generation of C hristian Jews imply that Jesus himself had never direccl)'

Jl ·

AUGUSTJNI: AS"O Tl-I E p:WS

addressed che gentile questio n. When we move from Paul's letters to che New Testament's next strara of hiscorical evidence, th e Gospe l of Mark (proba bly written sometime shortly after the Temple's destruction in 70 c. e.) and the traditions presetved in Q (material common co Ma tt hew and Luke that is not found in tvlark). we ca n see that instruction concerning sympathetic pagans is scarce in the gospel material icself. And even though all four canonical gospels presup pose the existence of a gentile mission-indeed. by the time thac they were writcen, in the final ch ird of t he firsc centu ry) thac mission seems to be already well estab lished in the Diaspora- these gospels do nor fearure Gen tiles with any pro minence in their respective narratives a bout Jesus' mission. All o f this literary evidence acco rds \Vich what we can surmise was the case hisco rically: Pagans did n ot figu re prominently among jesus• o riginal hearers in Galilee and j udea. Nor. evidently, did chey occup)' a major place in his teachings. Nonetheless, ch e questio n still remains: Even a bsenc clea r teachings from Jesus, wh)' should this enthusiastic pagan response to tbe good nett!$

of the coming kingdom batJe bmt a problem for the )Vtmg mollf1JJent in ·~· case? After all, Jewish co mmunities in the Diaspora had accommo· dated and beneficed from the incerest and even the participation of ou tsiders fo r hund reds of years by this po im ; and chey would continue co do so for lo ng after. With all t hese centuries o f such successful precedenc to look ro-and a precedent speci fic co d iaspora synagogue life- why did the m issionaries o f t his new messian ic movement not simply use the a·ad itional model, and welcome pagans as pagans in to t he fold? O ne part of the answer lies with the fact t hat the jesus movernent was messianic. That is, the convictions and co mmitments of its disciples, t he very way chac they defined t he missio n a nd message ofJesus and a rticulated be.l iefs about h is second coming, d rew u pon larger rra· ditions of apocalyptic thought. T hese tradicio ns focused sq uarely o n th e redemption o f Israel: the people's ret u rn to t he Land; t heir rededication to Torah; cheir feas ting a nd rejoicing o n God's moun tain, the home o f his h ouse) the Temple in jerusalem. \X' hat role in such imagined scenarios d id foreign nacions play? Speculations on the eschatological fate of Gentiles lie scactered

Gods and the

011(0

God ·

n

throughouc apocal)'pdc literatu re. \Ve can d uster t hem at two poles. At the negative extreme, God in his wrarh crushes these nations, destroying thern and their cirics. Thus, for example, the vision o f "Enoch": "The [Gentiles') towers shall be engulfed in fla me, and removed from th e whole earth. They shall be thrown into the judgment o f li re, and perish in wra th a nd in the force o f the eternaJ judgment" (1 Enoch 91:9). At rhe End, teaches 4 Ezra, a late-first-century c. E. apocalypric text, rh e natio ns will assemble near Mounr Zion. There they will be "reproved fo r rheir ungodliness . .. reproached fo r their evil t houghts," and they will be d estroyed (4 Ezra IJ=32- J8). "Rouse )'OUr a nger a nd po ur o ut your wrath," exhorts Sirach, o r Ben Sira, a text fro m rh e early second cenrury n.c.E. "Destroy the adversary and \\~pe o ut the en emy.... Ler him who survives be consu med in the liery wrath, and may rhose who ha rm your people meet destruction. Crush the heads o f the rulers of the enemy" (Sirach J67- 10). Consoling Israel, "Baruch"' promises, ~··vour enemy has overtaken you, but you will soon see rh eir destructio n, and will t read upon their necks'• (Baruch

4:15, pro bably ed ired in the second o r first cenrur)• B.C.E.) . At the positive po le, by cont rast, we fi nd t rad itions rhat look forward to the nations' inclusio n in the Kingdom of God. "'ln those d ays ten men fro m th e nations of every tongue will take hold of the robe o f a jew, saying, ' Let us go with you, tOr we hm•e heard chat God is with you' " (Zechariah 8:23). Afrer witnessing rhe eschatological inga thering o f lsraeiJ says "Tobirn (some time in the second centu ry B.C.E.), "all the Gentiles will praise rhe Lord._. and all who love rhe Lord God in trurh a nd righreousness will rejoice, showing mercy ro our b rethren," (Tobi t 147). "All the nations shall flow to ir," prophesies lsaial1 abou t jerusalem in the new age. " Jo.·lan)' peoples shall co me and say, 'Let us go up to the moun tain of the Lord, to the house of t he god of jacob' " (Isaiah 2:2- 3). This inclusive apocalyptic trad ition, in other words, envisaged rh e sociaJ makeup o f life in the kingdom as m irroring that o f everyday reality. (Confusingly, many of r.hcse writingst such as Isaiah and Sirach) express both extremes, those trad itions about final punishmenr and those abou t final inclusion.) jews and Gentiles, in the positive view, would reside rogether at r.he end of d ays in God's kingdom.'11 So far, rh is eschatological tradition of genrile inclusion seems

)4 • AUGUS T I NE ASO THE JEWS

little d ifferent from t he no neschato logical practice of receiving inter ested pagans as pagans in the d iaspora synagogue. But rhere was a huge d ifference> one t ha t we will see more clearly if we anend to a problem wirh our English usage. In the preceding paragraphs, I have used rhe two wo rds gentile and pagatJ interchangeably. Jn so doing, J have tried to have my usage reAect that of the New Testament's firstcentury Greek. In English , gentile and pag,m obviously are two different wordsJ and th ey have d ifferent connota tions. Gentile registers eth n iciry. It is a neutral way to indicate jewish starus-thar is> the person in question is nor a jew. Pagm1 on the och er han d indicates religion: not o nly "not jewish religionJ• but also "not Christian religio n." AndJ until very 4

rece ntly, pag(m would also register a note of d isdain or disapproval. Th is last is no su rprise because the word applied rh is way is a derogatory coinage of the fo urth-cent ury church, which wished co distinguish biblical religions fi·om rhe worship of the gods. O nly a single Greek word, however, stands behind both English ones: ta.edme, "th e nations."' This word rransla tes t he Hebrew ba goJ•im, "peoples." Jn th e Septuagint th e word denotes everyone who is not part o f IsraeL As with the paired terms Greek and barbarian, so too with l5mel and the nations: The two words ta ken together stand fo r ''aiJ h umanity,'' d ivided up roughl)' as "us'' and "them.'' An d, since "race" and "religion'' srood in the same continuu m in anriqujty. the biblical paired words Jsme/fta etlme dist inguished h umans acco rd ing ro ethnic group a nd, ar the very same time, according to "religion" (better, "ancesrral custom''). T he ethnic d istinction was the religious distinction was the an cestraJ distinction. (Hence Paul's comparable division of humanit)' into ! "th e fores kins"; Galat ians 2:7.) Barring what we thin k o f as conversion to j udaism, a/J Gentileseven those benefactors variously associated with j ewish commun ities as god -fea rers-were pagans. They worshiped the gods native to rhem, hmwver many orher gods (including Israel's god) they might add on. This point mark.< 0141 the mtcial difference bellveetJ d>e diaspot>~ synagof!'es'

acut<J practice of including pagam and the apocal)•ptic trnditums' ideas about including palf'IJS. The synagogue's Gentiles were pagans. TI>e kingdom's Gentiles, however, were a t heoretical category: ex-pagan pagans o r (to

Gods and tht' Oth' God · 35

use t he wiggle room created by our tv.'O English tenns) ex pagan Gen tiles. When t he lord of the universe reveals h imself in g lory, say rhese Jewish apocalyptic texts, the nations will repudiate their gods (who will themselves a t this rime worship lsraeJ's god)> destroy their idols> and worship Israel's god together with redeemed Israel. In other words, t hese Gentiles would also be included in the kingdom, a nd they would be included as Gentiles. But they would not worship other gods anymore. This last point needs stressing. The nations' destruction of their ido ls in rh is literature d id not imply that, at the end of t ime, t hey con verted to j udaism. The marker of conversion in j udaism-un iversall),. 4

4

4

named as such by jews> by pagans, and la ter by Chr istians-was ci r cumcision. No known a poca1ypdc rexc mentions o r alludes to circu m· cision in rhe event. Rat her> when God redeems Israe l. t hese te.xrs proclaim, t he nations will tum ft·om the lower gods whose images they had worshiped and ttlrtl to the god o f Israel. "Tum co mel" cries God, not only to Israel but also ro rhe nations (Isaiah 45'10-22). Similarly Tobit: Once God brings Israel back to the Land, "all the nations will tum in fear to t he Lord God . .. and t hey will bu ry their idols" (Tobit 14:6). Turtling is a good biblical and post-biblical p rophetic locution. But because of the accidents of translation-Greek into Latin into Englishth is idea of the apocalyptic inclmion of Gentiles1 which is what this term represents, becomes garbled. The words for "tu rn" in Greek- streph0 \\~th various p refixes-come into Larin as conversHS words; and c01wersus words come into English as ''conversion." But in th ese ancient texts> these th eoretical, eschatological Gentiles do twt"co nvert..-that is, they 4

4

do nor receive circumcision and/ o r in some way "become" Jews. Nor do they rurn to "Judaism" a nd t hus to jewish ann·srral custom. What the)' cw·n to is Israel's god, who is the god of t he whole universe. Jt is as Gen tiles that they worship him. So too> mutatis mutandis> o pined Paul>in a letter pulsing with apoca lyptic conviction. "You turned to God from idols." writes Paul to his pagan Christians in Thessa1onika) "co worship the t rue a nd living god" (r Thessalonian s 1:9).<9 T his passage from Paul's letter to the T hessalonians leads us back in to the mind -set of the earliest Chr istian jews who t raveled thro ugh 4

4

o ut the western Diaspora. \Vhen th ose pagans who were a ffiliated with synagogues began turn ing co the gospel, the new mission absorbed

36 •

AUGIJSTIN"E AND THE J EWS

rhem, because such a prospect cohered wirh those apocalyptic rraditions already shaping t heir worldview. The ancient traditions of gentile inclusion evidendy helped the early missio naries to improvise in their unan ticipated sit uation, as rime strerched on between jesus' postresurrection appearances and h is anticipated triu mphant remrn. These new communities saw themselves as the vanguard o f the liseapproaching kingdom: dead to the evil powers o f the p resent age, filled with the spirit of God so that they could exorcise and prophesy, living in an ticipation o f the return o f God's son to consummate h is missio n of red emption. And, consistent both with general Jewish social p ractices in the Diaspora and with the inclusive traditions ofJewish apocalyptic expecration, the earliest missionaries neither asked nor encouraged these pagans co commit exclusively to judaism and thus, for men>to receive circu mcision. It was as Gentlles that these people joined the assembly (ekk/esia) of Ch rist. Bur their acceptance in to chis new movement was provisional. The proviso was t his: Christian Gmtiles- 1uho ff.l:fre Christian pagans-could '10

longer worship their

natis~e

deities. This condition) which again cohered

with apocalyptic speculations about pagans at the End of the Age, was socially un precedented on a large scale: Jews had never before run missiom to solicit pagan inrerest in judaism. An d this surprising new policy-encouraging pagans to acr like jews but nor to "become jews"-placed rhese people in a complete!)' new (and ultimately dan· gero us} situation. Earlier, as synagogue-going god fearers, they had never faced such a demand. The custom of the d iaspora synagoguelo ng -standing, eminentl)' practical, and> within the larger context of ancient Med iterranean piety, entirely normal-was simply to receive symparhetic outsiders. \X'ell before the b irth of Chr istianil)'> these .syn agogues had welcomed such pagan Gentiles. And well after the b irth of gendle C hristianity, these synagogues continued ro welcome pagan Gentiles. (Much to the an noyance o f later b ishops, diaspora syna· gogues even continued ro welcome Ch ristian Gentiles.) Bur the mid first cenn try diaspora ekklisiai, these riny, Jewish. messian ic convocations, seem universally to have insisted rhat sympathetic pagans renounce their native gods as a condi tion of belonging fully to rhe newcommuniry. The question thar (only eventually) spli t rhe early 4

4

4

Gods JIJd thr 011t' God · 37

n1ission was not tvbetiJCt· to accept these ex-pagan Gentiles as members) but whee her these people should become Jews more forma11y, rhus for men to receive circurncision and for aJI to assume other specificall)' jewish p ractices: dietary customs, the jewish calendar of holy days, and so o n. ("\Vhoever receives circu.mcision"-that is, who converts fully to Judaism-"is responsible for t he whole of t he Law," Paul warned t he ex-pagan pagans of Galatia; Galatians s:J). About the necessity of these pagans' relinqu ishing their own gods to join the church, however, both PauJ a nd his jewish opponents, t hose other Ch risrian missionaries whom he calls "the circu mcisers," seem to have had no dispute.

By consrructing t heir demand in this way, rh e first gen eration of missionaries, faced with their u nanticipated reception arnong the syn agogue's pagans, creatively a pplied an element of t he hoped-for apocalypric futu re to t heir present sit uation. Gentiles join ing t he movement were ro act as if they were "eschacological'' Gentiles-which, given t he new cornmun ity's convictions, they were. Unencumbered by the greater part ofJewish ancestral practice, th ey nevertheless were req uired, by Paul as by or hers, ro assume precisely t hat very visible public behavior that was most resented by pagan cultu re and that pagan critics un iversally associated with Judaism: Christian Gentiles could nor participate in cult to their native gods. In th e long run, however-precisely what t h ese early rnissionaries were convinced would never be-this requi remenr turned o ut co be extraordin ar ily disruptive. It threa tened to unsettle the ce nturies-long stab ility of }e\11sh - pagan relario ns nor o nly with in t he synagogue community itself but also-indeed, especiall) - within t he larger social an d religious context o f the Greco-Roman dry. By declining to participate in th eir own familiar cults, these non-pagan pagans alienated and offended members of their own households. (For cenrw·ies hereafrer, Ch risrianity would be accused of ripping families aparr and disrupting normal patterns of household au thority.) And by not converting to Judaisrn {a position most associated with th e apostle Pa ul, t hough others also held it), these Ch ristian Gendles maintained their social status and, in a sense, their civic or legaJ status as members o f majority culture. By removing themselves from the worship of th ose gods who were 1

rheirs by birrh and blood, these people walked inro a social and religious no-man's-land. Exemption from such worship was an accommodation extended to Jews alone, and rh at primarily on accoun t of Jewish ancestral custom. These new Christian pagans, rhe Gentiles-inChrisc, were violaring their own ancestral customs. Perhaps worse, rh ey behaved in a way that their farnilies, friends, a nd neighbors could idenrify only as Jewish and could associate only wirh rhe S)>nagogue. In consequence, these people were open to charges of "atheism" and "impiety," failing to show respect to their own gods. They thus became rh e focu s of local anxieties over public endangerment. Gods, deprived of culr, grew a ngry. When gods were angt)', people paid. The Acts of the Apostles, written a round JOO c.e., offers vivid and historically pla usible depictions of the u rba n response to the socially d isruptive message of this tiny messianic jewish subcu lture. Itinerant Christian m issionaries were repudiated by t heir host synagogues, run out of town by irate pagan cirizens, and occasiona.lly punished by ca urious Roman authorities attempting to keep the peace. T he unprecedented Christian "policy" of separating pagans-in-Chr isr from t heir native cults was enormously disruptive. It provides us, however. with a gauge of the apocalyptic convictions that motivated members of these fledgling communities in their fi rst few decades, both rhose of pagans who made such a commitment ro t he gospel and those of t he messianist jews who received them in to community. Everyone expected rhat rh is anomalous and inherently unstable situation v.·ould be speedily and fi nally resolved. T he kingdom was at hand. Christ would rerurn soon.N Bu r as Christ dela),.ed an d the kingdom tarried, improvisations, confusions, and conflicts moun ted within t he j esus movement itself Some baprized pagans evidently resumed their participation in pub lic cult, perhaps confused because their ancestral worship had caused no problem back when t hey had been non-Christian god-fearers in the synagogue. ("Do nor associate \\~th any one who bears the name of ' brother,''' t hunders Pau l, aroun d 50 c.E., «if he is g uilty of immorality or greed, or if he worships idols!"; 1 Corinth ians 5:11, cf. 8:7-12; 10:14). Jn urban centers like Antioch, mixed groups meeti ng in households, Christian jews and Christian pagans, became entangled in con-

Gods dnd the 011e God • 39

fusions over the kosher status of communiry food. {Galatians 2 gives Paul's account of these events; Aces 15, another.) Competing missio ns offered d iffering messages. (This coo is evident from PauiJ who reserves his greatest vituperation for his Christian competition.) By t he late 40s, evidendyJ son1e missionar ies made a p rin cipled case t hat Christian Gentiles should regularize t heir devotion to Israel's god by assum ing fo r themselves t he p ractices commanded b)' t his god, t hus converting to j udaism (Galatians passim; cf. Philippians p fT. Paul did not like his colleagues' idea). Such a po licy would be no less so· dally destabilizing to d iaspo ra synagogue commun ities> which might still bear the brunt o f t heir pagan neighbors' resentment. Bu t perhaps Christian Gent iles themselves m ig ht gain some relief. Precedent existed. As converts to judaismJ thC)' would have some p lace, socially and religiously, to sta nd. Majority Clllture had long acknowledged such pa· gan t ra nsitions to j ewish ancestral practice.

••• is difficul t to sav. As earlv as we have evidence ' ' from t he Christian movcrnent- that is, wit h PauJ's letters> mid-first cent ury- we hea r t he noise of roiling debate. The noise continued u na bated ever after. Ch ristian Jews a rgued with Christian Jews: This is the noisiest fight that we overhear in Paul's letters. ("Are chey HeW li AT I-l A PPEN EO NEXT

brei\~? So am l. Are t hey Israelites? So a m I. Are they descendanrs o f

Abraham? So a m I. Are they ministers of Christ? . . . I a n1 a better o ne"; 2 Corinrhians u :22-2J RSV.) They also argued wirh non-Chr isrian jews, who argued back: Some of t hese quarrels a re retrojected back into t he lifetime of jesus a nd shape t he gospel stories, especially those in Matthew a nd in jo hn. ("Woe to you, 0 scribes and Pharisees! Hyp· ocrites!" Matthew 2J IJ.) C hristian jews argued with C hristian Gentiles: Should nor t hese people, who had been swept up in t he red emption promised to Israel, also keep the Sabbath, the food laws, o r any of rhe o ther practices that God had revealed to Israel? And fi. nall)'- the arguments for which t he most abundant evidence remainsChristian Gentiles argued bitterly with each other. Vigorous variety characterized early Chr istianit)' no less chan it characterized th e Judaism t hat was its mat rix.

40 • ... UOUSTlNE AS"D THll JEWS

Christian variety, a nd its ammdant argum enrs, only increased with time. But beginning in the early second century, rhese argu ments come to be expressed with increasing sharpness and clarity. This is so because rhetorically and ph ilosophically trained intellectuals, fo rmerly pagan , began to make t heir own co nt rib ut io ns co evolving Christian movemen ts. Jn articulacing their commitment ro Christian revelation, these men had to make sense o f t he literary medium o f that revelation: the Septuagint fi rst o f all, but also the burgeoning body o f specifically Christian writings (various gospels; collections of apostolic letters, especially Paul's; sermons; apocalypses, a nd so o n). To do so, they inter preted t hese Greek texts, and defended t heir interpretat io ns, in light of their shared rhetorical and philosophical culture, high GrecoRoman paideia. In short, Christian rheology itself was another late c hild of Alexander's success. 4

3 • PA l DEJ A: PAGAN, JEWI SH , C HRI STI AN

These [pagan) philosopher> have bl!l!tl raised abotJe the rest by a glorious reputation, tvhid> they tborollii/>6' dest>rtJe. TIN!)' recognized tbat no material object can be god . .. and that notl>ing chattge
I n modern parlance, d>eolog;y o ften means something like "religio us though ts."' In antiquicy the term had g reater precision. ·nJeos in Greek means "d ivinity'' o r "god.'' Logos has a very broad range o f meanings: In the standard Greek lexicon , its d efinitions stretch for over five colum ns of very fi ne print. "Word /' "reason,'' "disco urse; · ~'order": aU these can translate logos. -nJeologia as the Greek wo rd fo r our word ''th eo logy" means "systematic, rational discourse on the nature of the divine."' Jn the Greek world, chis intellectual enterprise had been conceived not in temples o r arou nd altars but wit hin ancient academies. Theol ogy was in this sense a special b ranch o f philosophy, which was itself distinct from traditional cult. The ways in which philosophers con ceived divinity coord inated with the \lla)'S in wh ich t hey imagined other aspects of realicy-maw~r, time, soul>reason>cosmos, a nd so on. God was a key term wirh in a larger, coh eren t a nd rational system o f thought. As a specialized exercise in reasoning. and as a srudy that implied an entire way of life as well as a training in particular modes o f t hought, philosophy stood to one side o f t he civic curricul um. The schools o f t he classical Greek polis had emphasized at hletics, poetry, music, mathemarics1 and rhetoric. Their purpose, eminently practical> was to t rain rh e nexr generation o f aristocra ts to lead the city, wheth er 4

4

4.!

· AUGUSTINE ASO THE JEWS

as soldiers or as statesmen. Philosophy entered in to advanced a nd specialized curricula onl)r eventually, and o nly o nce the writings of philosophers (like Plato's dialogues) had themselves acquired the starus of literar),. classics. In the lace fo u rth ce ntury B.C. E., following Alexander's conquests, chis mode of ed ucation and these forms of intellectual culture began co be exported on a large scale. Hellenism, che new international form of Greek culrure, was d isseminated precisely t hrough the social and physical str uctures of Alexander's new cities. These cities looked co the older classical polis as rheir model, and they ado pted classical Greek writings as their literary canon. Rome's enco unter wich Hellenistic culture resu lred in irs ado ption a nd adaptation of the Hellenistic curriculu m as well. As a result, ed ucated urban eli res fro m one end of the Roman world to the other shared a common litera ry culture, o riginally mediated through the Hellenistic gymnasium. ·n1e curriculu m for these young men was exceedingly stable. From one generation to th e next they read, memorized, a nd studied the great Greek epic poems and tragedies. (Romans eventually added Lati n classics such as Virgil a nd Cicero co ch is curriculu m; and well into the late empire-Augustine•s lifetime and beyond-Roman education remained in principle bilingual.) These young men were trained in fore nsic rhetoric-that is, in how to craft persuasive o ral argu ments and to discredit the arguments o f o thers-as pare o f th eir formation as future leaders in municipal and (later) imperial government. And at ch e h ighest levels, such students might advance co specialized schools offering a particular type of philosophy. Here they stud ied the wrirings of earlier masters) o r at least became acquain ted with them th rough su mmaries of or excerpts from their works. This mix of rhetorical and philosophical culture represented ch e acme of ancient education. l11ose forms of philosophical paideia rhat owed most ro Plato can properly be called monotheisr. Beneat h the multiplicity of physical existence) Platonists detected the effec ts of a single, transcendent deity, th e ultimate source of everything else. This highest god -variously called "the O ne" or "the Father" or "th e Being" or, more simply, "the god"-was irnagined in self·defin ing terms as perfect, changeless,

good, single, simple, utterly without body of any sort. He (or it) was utterly unique and uniquely self-generated. Everything else in some

sense derived from o r depended upon him; he alone derived from and depended upon onl}' himself Further, since he was absolure1y without body, he could not be represented (unlike che lower cosmic deicies) through any image: The high god, said these philosophers, co uld be <•seen .. only by the mind.' Cenruries Iacer, philosophically ed ucated Hellenistic Jews would in terpret these pagan philosophical claims in light o f their own traditions of imageless worship. 111ey further irnagined rhat Plato could

have learned such a manifestly "Jewish" theological principle onl)' through co ntact with Torah. Later still, Chriscian Gentiles made a

sim ilar claim: Since Plato had gotten his rheology {at least on this poinc) "right," he could have learned it o nly from Christ himself as the pre-Incarnate Logos. The presup posed chronology o f these two argumcmts, which impute rhe origins of Platonic theology either to j udaism o r to Christianity, neatly reverses the true intellectual line o f descent. Theological interpretations of the Bible, whether Jewish

o r Christian, depended fu ndamentally upon pagan philosophical paideia. How did this high god o f pagan philosophy relace to ever)•ching else? The cause but not the maker of the universe> rhis purely spiritual deity stood at the opposite end of an imagined continuum whose other terminus \vas the physical cosmos) the earth that stood at its center. and finally marter itself. The universe that coLL1d be perceived by the senses waS:, especially for Platonists> a sort of shadow cast by the divine world "above." The One/ the many> mindfbody, spirit/ matter> above/below> tntth/en or: All of these contrasting pairs simultaneously implied a cosmology> a moral hierarchy. and an epistemological divide. The structure of the physical cosmos itself revealed to the wise the true order of things, wherein what was truest1 best, and most "real'' visible noc co the fleshly eye buc o nly co the "eye o f che soul," that is, to the mind. To trai n the mind to '"see" these eternal verities, to

\\'llS

know them and to look beyond them to the ultimate god to which they pointed, was the goal o f this philosophy. The serenely trans.cendem high god was in no sense a "creator.''

4-l • ... UGUSTlNE AS"D THll Jl!WS

Such a function would have compro mised h is perfection, implic.ad ng h im in change by imputing to h im an act of wilL Nor could so perfect an entity be direcdy involved with the myriad irnperfeccions-andJ in· deed, the evils-that characterized experience in the realm below the moon. Matter itself, that unstable substratum of physical reality, in· d eed could seem to be the god 's cosmic o pposite: tangible, d efective, nonrational, perenn ially inclined co change and nonbeing. The in tr in sic unruliness of n1atter was heJd to account fo r much of the d ifficulry with physical existence itself. (To see matter as "bad" since god and spirit were o bviously "good'' was a temptatio n inherent in the Platonic system itself, o ne chat most Platonists strenuously attempted to avoid.)' Divine intermediaries filled in the gap between the all-good, unchanging h igh god and the p hysical universe t hat o nly a pp roximately reflected h im. Lower gods, d esignated variously as the "craftsman" (deminrge in Greek) or "world ruler" (kosmokrator) or "divine reason" (logos.)) took on the function of o rganizing and sustaining the maceriaJ universe accord ing to the p rinciples o f divine order. Stars and planecs, rhoughc co be ensouled a nd intelligent beings themselves, likewise stood between the high god and humanity, luminous witnesses to the perfection of the up per real ms. The gods o f t raditional pantheons, assorted cosmic envoys (angeloi in Greek}, still lower local divin ities called daimones (whence the English demon): All these subordinate powers helped to bind the universe togecher a nd to commun icate trut hs abou t cranscendent d ivinity to the hu man mind trained to understand their messageJ The g reat epic poems and p lays of Greek cuicure) however, relaced q uice d ifferent ideas about divinity. Literature•s gods had strong individual personaliries. As characters in stories, they constandy did things. They had bodies, which they used, occasionally with abandon. They fo rgor and remembered , g rew calm o r angry; they raged and plorced) lied and raped, and frequently behaved in ways chat o ne would not co lerate in humans. The deities of classical liceracure, in b rief, d id not o blige the moral categories of rhetoric or the meta physical categories of p hilosophy. How then could this cu ltural parri mony serve as a lite rary medium o f divine cruth?

Paidd.r: Pagd11, j t'wisb, Cl>ristian · 4.5

To spin th e stTaw of crad itional narratives in to rhe gold o f in tellectually and morally elevat ing theology, educated pagan Hellenists often availed themselves of sophisticated theories of reading. One such-grounded in rh e conviccion char rexcs held multiple levels o f mean ing-was allegory•. Alios in Greek means ''other"; agorein means "to speak." Allegory-"other-speak"- was a d isciplined techn ique whereb)' t he e nlightened reader could see rh rough what a rext merely said to what it actually meant. The u neducared might simply savor the action in ancienr raJes-Chro nos eating his children, Zeus raping Ganyrnede~ Odysseus sleeping by the cave of the nymphs. The learned few, however, could see beyond the simple or " lireraJ" meaning that was availa ble to just anyone and instead derect th e texr's lmponoid, its "undersense," and rhereb)' grasp its moral message, its eternal>lu minous t ruth. Divine cannibalism? No: Ti me (cbronos in Greek) is subdivided in to unirs. Divine ra pe? No: The soul experiences d ivine ra ptu re when it is seized by irs contem plation of the O ne. A sleeping homesick hero? No: The human soul )"arns co leave rhe physical body and coretu rn to irs t rue home in the upper cosmos. .A.s with humans, said the in tellectuals> so with te:~ts: The body of fles h was the lower, irra tional> morral part; the spirit the upper, ra tional> eternal pa rt. The flesh!)' body of the text-rh at is, the obvious narrative meaning available even co rhe un«lucared-had to be "looked rhrough " in order co grasp rhe text's ''soul/' its h igher spiri tual a nd intellectual import." Paideia d id nor produce atheists. \Vell-ooucared young men did not deny the existence of the t raditional gods> nor did they think that traditional \1/0rship was unimportant. Q uire th e contrary. Groomed by gymnasia to take their place in mun icipal councils as their cities' leaders a nd \real thy patrons 1 these men built and endowed temples and underwrote the celebrations- the games~ t he free provision o f wine, o il, and meat; t he p rizes awarded fo r excellence in dedicated competitions-through which their city's celestial patrons were hono red. As magistra tes, rh ey served as priests in their cults. Traditional piety toward the lower gods 1 like appreciation of their myths, stood o n the same cultural conrin u um as philosophy itself For the vast majority of an cient peoples, showing the gods honor was th e besr way to avoid their anger and to prorect against ill fortune. For rhose pious pa-

46 • AUGUSTIS l! AN I) THE J S WS

gans of philosophical bene, however, the traditional gods, t heir stories, and t heir cult all poi need t he way to t he O ne.

•• • plunged into lear ned HeJ · lenistic culture. They paid it the ultimate compliment and claimed t hat it was fundamentally, originally Jewish. What the Greeks got right, t hese Jews maimained-chiefly philosophy, but also mathematics, musict and astronomy-they actually goc from the Jews. Placo, some a rgued, had srudied Torah and developed his doctrines in Egypr, using a (since lost) G reek translation of th e Bib le made centuries before t he Sepruagin t. One writer dep icted Abraham as bringing civilization co the Egyptians, an argument for che greater antiqu ity of the Jews in a culture in which older was better. Hellenistic Jews forged pagan p rophecies, wherein ancient sibyls hymned Je\\~sh excellence in Homeric hexameters. O thers p resenced ··-histories": King Ptolemy sought out Jewish wisdom, commissioning O'anslations of th e Torah inco Greek for the royal library in Alexandria. Young ~·loses, in one storyt received instruction from t he wisest teachers of both Egypt and Greece, but of cou rse outstripped them all; in another, he caught mu· sic to Orpheus. jews rurned out Greek poetry in praise of t heir own culture while ascribing au thorship co t he literary heroes of the Hellenistic curriculum: Aeschylus, Sophocles, Eurip ides. (These forgeries rurn up centuries later, preserved in the texts of church fathers concerned to demonstrate ch e superiorit)' of t he Bib le to pagan culrure.) One pagan sage, Numenius of Apamea, finally conceded the point by asking, ''\X'hat is Placo hue Moses speaking Greek?"' Ingeniously, tirelessly, Hellenistic jews worked to liberate paideia from its pagan matrix. They t hus gave it a new "native" culcure: th eir own.s \'(!hen turning to their own sacred texts, however, educated Hel JEWS I N T I'IE OREEK·SPEAKING I>IASPORA

lenistic jews encountered t h e same problems that their learned pagan counterparts did when reading Homer. The first sentence of the entire collection gor things off on t he wrong foot by proclaiming," In t he beginning God made.. .. " (Genesis n). According to rhe principles of ph ilosophical paideia, either rhe god doing t he making was not the high god (since rhe high god, perfect and changdess, by definition

"did" nothing), or else he could not actually be "doing" anything. As with Homer, so with Moses: To rransmute venerable stories into philosophically elevating truths, the simple meaning of the words had to yield to spiritual understanding. Through rhe efforts and imagination of erudite Hellenisricjews, biblical theology was born. Theology in this sense-its ancient sense-was inrrinsical1y philosophical. The modern ph rase "philosophical theology" (to pur this idea another way) would be to ancient ears a redundancy. The philosophicaJ reinterpretation of sacred ancient te.'Cts defined rheology. For educated jews attracted to this project> the fact char their scriptures were now in Greek made the task of reinterpretation much easier. jews coming to the Septuagint's rendition of Moses at the burning bush discovered char rhe name of God, in Hebrew ('I am" (eh)oeb, Exodus

Jl4}, stood in their text as ho 61l, "the Being"-exacdy what anyone with a decent education, jew o r pagan) would expect as the designation of the high god. When this god established the heavens, he did so "by a word" (Psalm 33'6 RSV). The Hebrew davar ("word ") became rhe Greek logos. Forjewish readers with allegiances to Platonism and/ o r to Stoicism, framing the heavens through logos, divine rationality, made good philosophical sense. Biblical rheology comes into full flowe r in the works of Philo of Alexandria (10 o.c.E.?-50 c.E.?). An elder contempo rary of Jesus and Paul, Philo put his e:-.:tensive Greek learning at rhe service of scriptural interpretation. He saw in the Septuagint the very best philosophical thought of his age. Indeed, he referred to Moses quite simply as "the philosopher." Jn his commentary on Genesis, Philo gracefuUy conformed the offending elements of this ancient Semitic creation myth in its new Greek mode to the canons of philosophical ratio nality. The days of creation in Genesis t, PhiJo observes, cannot refer to time, since (the high) God does not act in time. Rather, ''days" refer to sequence and o rder: they are 1\·foses• way o f describing the rational process whereby God intellectuall)' conceived the universe. The actual material reaUzation of the plan, described in Genesis 2, was left to "the divine Logos/' the image of God according to which (or whom) humanity itself was made {Genesis 1:26). Of course God has no form, Philo remarks; no r is

48 • AUGUSTINE ANI> T HE J EWS

rhe h uman body godlike. The human mind is whar is made "afrer God's image and likeness.'• And who or what is this image and likeness? The divine Logos h imself, God's own Word and Reason (On the

Creatim1 2J69). Bur what abour the rest o f t he biblical creation story-the frui t tree, the wily serpent, the deceived \Voman, rhe disobedient man? "Now th ese are no mythical fictio ns such as the poets and sophists delight in;' scolds Philo. Rarher, Jewish stories (unlike, he insists, pagan sto ries) "a re mo des of making ideas visible, bidding us to resort to allegorical interpretation" (On the Ct~ation )6.157). Where the story, if read o n a simple or "literal., level, gives most offense} th e educated reader finds his clue-the invitation in a nd from the text itself-to t hink o n a symbolical or spirit ual lewl, to in terpret allegorically. (To be fai r-and Philo isn>r, here-pagan sages used exactly th is same a r gument to justi~' rerrieving p hilosophical truths fro m unsavory episodes in Greek myth.)' Genesis 2- 3, t hen, does nor relate a story a bo ut a snake deceiving the primal woman who eats fo rb idden fruit and gets her husband to do the same. Such a simple understa ndjng of th e sacred text, thought Philo, indicted o nly the ignorance of the u np hilosophical reader, not the mean ingfulness and timeless validity of scripture. Understood spiritually, as the text itself deman ded , these chapters relate the wa~· that the senses ("Eve"), perenn ially turned toward lower, earth ly things (''the serpent"), can distract even the mind ("Adam") fro m its pursuit of d ivine truth. What else should we expect from Moses, who "had atmined the very sum mir of ph ilosophy" (On the Creation 2.8)? Not o nly b iblical stories but also rraditional practices received this same sort of spiritual interpretation. The food laws, the holy days, Shabbat, the derails o f a nimal sacrifices1 the command co circumcise: Far &om being che arbitrary d irectives of a detail-obsessed deity, t hese laws symbolized profound mo ral instructions a nd commitments. Circumcision, Philo observed, spiritually understood) co nnotes th e exci· sion of pleasure and passion (a good aim fo r the wise). God does not care about festivals and seasons in themselves; these symbolize the gladness and gratitude that che soul feels toward God. To live according to rhe Law mean t to p ractice virtue, the goal of true ph ilosophy. 4

Paidtu: Pagan, j t u•lrh, Christian · 49

Some ed ucated Jews went a step further than Philo. Understand· ing the spiritual significance of the Law, they declined to enacr its "lower" o r "literal, protocols. \XIhat would be the point? After all, these commands at rheir most profound level were allegories of moral ex· cellence. O nce one grasped, for example, that rhe spiritual meaning of circumcision was self-discipline, rhen one lived o ne's commitment to the traditions of Israel by being so disciplined. Why perform a mere physical action, conforming to a literal interpretatio n of rhe com· mand, when the purpose of the command itself was to point to this higher and more itTlporrant moral truth? The allegorizing je~1·' had a good point. And Philo affirmed that these Jews did indeed grasp the more profound meanings of Jewish o bservances. Bur, he said, such people acted as if they were disembod· ied souls instead of men living in society. .A.ccordinglyt he co ncluded, they were poor philosophers because philosophy entailed not only a way of thinking but also and consequencly a way of living. "We should look o n all these outward observances as resembling the body,'' he urged, ''and their inner rneanings as resembling the soul. l t foUows that, exactly as we have to care for the body because it is the abode of the soul, so also we must arrend to the letter of the laws.., The disci· pline ofscrupulousness in matters of]ewish practice, Philo co ncluded, can o nly enable and enhance wisdom. "If we keep and observe these, we shall gain a clearer co nception of rhose things of which rhese are symbols" (Tb. Migration ofAbrabmn 16.89-93). In other words, for Philo as fo r the type of Hellenistic J udaism that he represents) true wisdom and true philosophy were not generic wisdom and generic philosophy. They were, q uite specifically, Jewish wisdom and Jewish philosophy. And these were attainable only thro ugh close reading, spir irual understanding, and disciplined adherence to jewish practice as encoded in divinely revealed jewish scrip· ture. The true identity of rhe philosopher's god, Philo insisted, was the god of Israel: bur most pagans 1 mired in their idol worship, could not realize this. Those who did, he said, and who in consequence became proselytes, did nothing less rhan recapitulate the journey of Abraham, going o ut from the idols of their fathe rs' houses to the true homeland of the One God (On d~e Special Lflws 1.9.52; On the Vittues 20.102-104).

)0

· AUGUSTINE ANI> T HE J EWS

Philosoph ical understa ndings of scripture> as we have just seen, could var)' quite significantly among jews who otherwise shared strong commitments. Both Philo and th e allegorists whom he ad dressed in J1Jl Migr(Jtion ofAbmbamJ fo r exa mple, concurred on the im portance, the sanctity, the p hilosophical depths, and the spiritual heights of scripture. Yet they neverth eless stro ngly d isagreed on the best wa)' to enact their co mmon convictions. Paul, their younger contemporary, o ffe rs a noth er imeresting comparison with Philo. Though neither as highl)' educated philosophically nor nearly as prolific litera rily, Paul too could o ffer spiritual u nderstandings of rhe Septuagint much as Philo did, convinced, as was Phi lo, that such read ings revealed the deeper sign ificance of the texc. Like Philo, Paul also saw in idolatr)' a standing ind ictment of pagan culture ch ar gave the lie to pagan claims to wisdom. "Claiming ro be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of th e immortal God fo r images" (Romans 1:22-23; fo r che whole passage, t:JS-Jl). Like Philo, Paul believed in the superio r value of his own understanding of th e Law's spir it ual meaning. Jews who understood th e Law d iffe rently from h is way1 Paul o pinedJ do not understa nd Moses at all. "That same veil [thac Moses puc over his face when bringing che Tora h down from Sinai] remains unlifred, because o nly chrough Ch risc''- che poinc of orientation for Paul's reading-"is it taken awa),., (2. Corinthians Jl4). 7

And again like Philo, Paul valued Jewish law deeply. ("The Law is holy, and the commandment is holy and just and good"; Romans 7:12.) As a jew who was committed co a new messianic movement, Paul had vie\l.:s on t he u ltimate meaning of scripture that distinguished h im in im · porrant ways from Philo. Yet as a jew whose fi rst lan guage was Greek and whose education was in good measure Greek, Paul also had much in co mmon with Philo) not least of aU the same Greek text of the Bible. After Philo's and Paul's lifecimes, however, che Sepcuagint (and testimonia, colleccions o f excerpts from the Septuagint) began ro circulate ever more widely within commu nities t hat were increasingly independent o f diaspora synagogues. \'Ve can attr ibute this broader circula tion q uite specifically to the spread of Christianity. By che late firsc to early second century, versions of the Christian rnessage had found adher 4

PJidda: Pagan, jewis!J, Christi.w · 51

ents among the educated class of rhe Rmnan world, as becomes evident in the types o f int ra-Christian d isputes t hat we can begin to overhear in our sources. Those formerly pagan inrd lecruals who entered the Christian movernent took upon t hemselves rhe relatively recent revelations attributed to jesus. In so doing, t hese men also rook upo n themselves an intensified fo rm of t he same problem that troubled educated Jews abou t t he depiction of the god o f Israel in t he Septuagint, and that troubled educated pagans about t he d epiction of the traditional gods in t heir own literary canon {Homer> Hesiod> Euripides> and so o n). In irs starkest form. that problem was relating rhe perfect and changeless high god of p hilosophical paideia to the imperfect world o f time, change, and matter. Theology in aU three modes-pagan,Jewish, and Christian- was the specific expression of t his more general intellectual problem. All theology p roceeded by making p hi losophical sense of sacred texts. In the case o f Christianity. however, this challenge was additionally co mplicated by the fact t hat gentile Christians for a long time had few sacred texts of t heir own. Paul's letters, letters written in Paul's name, gospels (many more chan would ulrimately appear in che New Testament's collectio n), various apocalypses and revelations, and a rich assortment of pseudonymous epistles all circulated widely~ and d ifferent communities respected d ifferent textual collections. Bu r for many, perhaps most, Christian communities thro ughout most of t he second cen tury and even into the third, their fundamentaJ scriptures were those t hat they shared with the synagogue, namely, the Septuagint. This simple fact ultimately had enorn1ous consequences, social as well as t heologicaJ, for jews and for Christians-and, as we shall see, fo r pagans as well.

••• T HEOLOGY, AS W£ NOTED EARLIER, d iffers from

Other types of religioUS t hought in irs effort to be systematic. to coordinate t he various elements of its vie\VS on d ivinil)'> h umanity. and the cosmos in ord er to achieve an intellectuall)' coherent whole. To be "religious" requires belonging to some sort o f community, but to be ''t heological'' requlres an effort at systematic thought. For this reason, the core texts of t he

)l • ,\UG UST I NI! AN O THE p:WS

New Testament collection-Pau l's letters and t he four gospels (Mark, Matthew, Luke,John)-are theological o nly incipiently. They commu· n icate their new message through story (the gospels) and through proclamation (Paul, too). Where they appeal to p hilosophical terms o r issues- such as rh e Gospel of)ohn's brief presentatio n of Jesus as '' logos" (John L:t-)) 1 o r Paul's naming Christ as an agent in creation (''through whom all things are a nd through whom we exist/' 1 Corint hians 8:6 RS\0-they offer no systematic reflection o n the idea. Eventually these texts will become the subject of and occasion fo r theological reflection. But even once they a ttained that status of "scrip rure" themselves- an uneven and contested process nor definitively concluded un til the era o f rh e imperial church-they were always understood in relatio n to rhe much larger, much older, a nd much more prestigious b iblical can on thar had preceded them: those Jewish scrip· cures chat eventually becarne the Ch ristian "O ld Testa ment."; \XIe catch an indirect ind ication of more a mbi tious theological reAection o n the Christian message in some of rh e later New Testament texts. In rhe writing kno\111 as 1 jo hn (probably fro m the !are first cen· rury), the author warns against ¢'false pro phets.., These prophets are o ther Ch ristians. \X' hat makes th ese Chrisrians "false/' john a rgues> is that rhey deny rhat "jesus Christ has come in the flesh" (• John ,p). "This is he who ca me by water a nd blood,jesus Christ, not with the warer o nly but wirh the warer a.nd rhe blood" (• John r6). In an other short lerter also attributed to this jo hn, the a uthor warns again against listening to these other Christians. "Many deceivers have gone o ut in to the \vorld, men who will not acknowledge the coming ofj esus Christ in the flesh. Such a one is the deceiver and the anti-C hrist" (2jo hn 7). Why would some Christians claim that Ch rist had had no fles hly bod}'? \Vhac sort of sense \vould that make? \X'e can u nderstand what is at stake in this early d ispute, and whar compelled these repudiated C hriscians ro teach that Christ did not have fles h1 if we chink with the principles o f philosophical paideia. "High" claims a bo u t jesus occur in the very earliest srratum o f our evidence> from mid-first cen w ry: the let ters of Paul. Paul speaks of jesus as the divine and preexistent son of God, h is agent in creation> the one " through whom all rhings a re" (• Corinrhians 8:6). Before

jesus' m ission o n earth, said Paul, he \vas "in the form of God"-a claim for his divinity, surely-bur that he chen "emptied himself" and took on "the fo rm of a slave," was born "in rhe likeness of men" and "in human form" (Philippians 2:5-10). When on earth, jesus had assumed "the likeness of sinful fles h" (Romans 8:;). i>aul elsewhere describes jesus as a human being (ambropos), albeit "from heav1m" (1 Corinthians 15:49); a man born of woman, under rhe Law-char is, a jew (Galatians 4:4; Romans 9:5); a fleshly descendant in fact of King David (Romans q). Frequently at still other points, Paul speaks of Christ's blood and of his death on a cross. And he proclaims jesus' bodily-though nor fles hly- resurrection (1 Corinthians 1542-55). These assertions of Paul's seem to pull in diftt>rent di rections. His claims for Christ's elevated, eternal, superhuman qualities-Christ's divinity~ in brief-sound shocking coming fro m a jew and thus from someone whom \ve habitually identify as a mo notheist. Here1 again, the modern version of rhe co ncept-belief char rhere is o nly o ne godo bscures both Paul's meaning and his historical context. Ancient rnonotheism left scope for many gods. O nly one suprerne god was ''on top," but var ious other gods in chis divinity-congested universe ranged beneath, lower than and in some sense subordinate to rhe high god. \Vere these lower gods "demons 1? Educared pagans were con1forrable with the claim. Plutarch, an intellectual of the early empire (46 c .E.?120 C.E.?), commented char such lower divinities were fla ttered when addressed b)' the name of the higher god whom they served. And the third -cenrury Neoplatonist f'orphyry observed that demons presided over o racles, local altars, and shrines: "They \Vere regio nal deputies, not very exalted cosmic powers." In shore, for pagans, demon (Greek: daimotJ} was a synonym for "lower god."3 The Septuagint reflects chis neutral usage. Centuries afterward, however, when some jews and, later, Christians impugned the moral status of these lower gods, the rerm assum ed the negative aspect that it still has in modern English. ''The gods of the nations are daimon~sJ" sang the Psalmisr in Greek (Psalm 95'5 LXX). "What [ocher] pagans sacrifice they offer to daimones, and not to God," Paul tells his pagans, to whom he fo rbids such practices (J Corinthians 10:10). The question of these powers' moral o rientatio n to one side, however1 the point is

54 • AUGUSTINE ASO Tllll. JEWS

rhat their existence was assu med un iversally, by h ighly educated churchmen no less than by others. By the early fifth century c.E., Au· gustine could insist chat god and demon \vere merel)' in terchan geable terms. "If the Ipagan ] Platonisrs p refer to call t hese ' gods' rather than 'den1ons,' and to co un t them among chose whom Plaro their master writes a bo ut as gods created by the highest god, let them say what they wan t ... fo r then they say exactly what we Sa)', whichever word they may use for them" (City of God 9·23). People of sufficient educatio n who thought philosophicall)• about relations between levels of divinity m ight see rhese lower gods as contingent upo n the high god, meaning t hat their existence d epended someh ow o n his. Less philosoph ically inclined monotheists \vere content to assert that their own particular god was the oldest o r the h ighest o r the best god. In other words, ancient "'monotheism" easily accom modated the idea of rn ultiple divin ities, as long as a single deity stood at the absolu te pinnacle of holiness and power. Claims fo r the divinity o f various och er beings did not compromise commitment to a single h ighest being, as Paul himself illustrates. And by speaking of the preexistent son as God's agent in creation-mud\ indeed, as pagan Hellenists spoke of the demiurge o r kosmokmtor and as both pagan and Jewish Hellenists spoke of the divine logos- Pau l explicitly subord i· nated the divine Son to God the Father. \X'hat about Paul's descripcion of jesus as anthrOpos, "human"? Again, thin king with the a ncient context helps. Paul lived in a society comforta ble with ascribing divinity to special hu man beings. (Heroic figures such as Heracles had started our h uman and e nded up divine; so too, mu tatis murand is, d id rhe emperor.) j ews famo usly [Ook a d iffe rent view on this matter from that of rheir neighbors, rh e pagan majority, though Philo can speak of Moses, or of t he patr iarchs, as representations o f the divine. For moderns, Paul's assorted declarations about jesus-that he \vas a man and that he appeared in the form of a man (Philippians 2;s-8), that he was truly divine and yet he truly died-can seem to stand in tension with each other. For an cients, while these claims about jesus in particular might have seemed un usual, they were certainly not in themselves un thinkab le: The un iverse was fi Ued wirh d ivine pe rsonalities who man ifested t hemselves in a vast va-

riety of ways. And o n the evidence, Paul himself noticed no fatal contradiction. He simply described jesus as human and as divine. as heaven I)' and as historical, as having flesh and blood and as simpl)' assum ing their "like ness.·~ The Christians denounced in 1 and 2 jo hn pro bably lived at least o ne generation, perhaps two, after Paul \'(le know nothing abo ut what o r which Christian writings they would have known. \Ve do know that collections of Paul's letters were beginning to circulate and that they confused people. ("There are some things in them,'' warned a late-firstcencury Greek-speaking Christian, '' that are hard to understand, which the ignorant and unstable twist to their O\vn destruction"'; 2 Peter J 15t6). The position that these repudiated Christians are accused of taking. however. makes sense in terms of the sorts of ···h igh •• claims for jesus' divinity that we find in Paul and in certai n passages of the Gospel of john. Undergirding these later Christian ideas about jesus' flesh, or lack of it, are the principles of philosophical paideia and the imagined architecture of the Hellenistic cosmos. This mental pict:ure of the universe, inherited fro m Greek philosophers and reinforced by ancient science, o rganized reality along averticaJ a.~ is. \XIhat was physically "up" was also morally ''good." Thus the bodies of che stars-luminous, beautiful, stable) eternal-declared their moral and metaphysical superio rity to the planets. which wandered~ just as the planets in turn were superio r to the moon itself, which altered in its monthly courses. Below the moon, matter grew chick and recaJcitranr. Flesh and blood-the co nstitutive elements of animal and thus of human bodies-were relegated to the earth, which stood at the universe•s center, where the heaviest matter had sunk. Labile both physically and morally, fles h was subject to insult and to death; susceptible to appetite, it distracted rhe mind, the highest part of the soul. How co uld rhe fleshly body possibly be the native home of the soul? Surely the soul came fro m above. (This last ide-a was extremely congenial to thinkers with allegiances to Plato.) O nce freed of its encrapment in rhe flesh, whether through sleep, spiritual ecstasy) o r final!)' death, the soul could begin its ascent through che universe, back up past the moon and on to its point of origin in the celestial realm.'0 It is this worldview that probabl)' prompted chose Christians at-

56 ·

AUGUSTINE ASO THE JEWS

racked in 1 and 2j o hn co ask a reasonable quescion: Had Chrisc at any point r-eall)' had a fles hly body at all? If Christ wer-e "from heaven,' if he were divine1 and if he asce nded back to heaven, then why suppose

chat he had really inhabited animal Aesh fo r the brief moment when he appeared o n earth? And if Christ had been "raised" at his resurrection to be seared "at che right hand of the Father''-that is to

say. in

che highesc heavens-why insist illogically (and unscientifically) char he had been in a fleshly body when he had been raised? (After all, Paul himsel f had explicidy caughc o therwise: "Flesh and blood cannot in· herir the Kingdom of God, nor can the perishable inherit the imper· ishable"; 1 Corinthians 15:so.) Such bodies, whether for humans or fo r Chrisc himself, belonged o nly in rhe realm below rhe moon. The hig her the claims for Christ's divinity. in o ther words) che less coher-

ent was the thought that he had ever actually had a body of flesh. If chose Christians who thought this way had had access

to

Paul's letters

and co the Gospel ofjohn, they could easily have found support there for their own views. Paul himself, mid-first century, does not seem to have reflected systematically o n chis aspect of the evolving Chrisrian message. But ev-

idently these later Chr istians did. Their theological understanding of Ch risc-chat he had onl)' seemed to have a fles hly body-scholars have labeled "docetic Christology" or, more s imply, "docetism." The rerm rests o n che G reek dokeo>"to appear." Docerism is "appearanceChristo logy. '' For many moderns, docetism seems an odd and even a councerinruitive idea. After fifteen centuries of Chrisrian art (and nearl)' one century of innumerable biblical movies), we are long accustomed to seeing jesus represented as an embodied human male. Ln chis formarive pe riod o f Christian theology, however, gods and their messengers, the angeloi) were not imagined as having bodies of earthl)' flesh. "Not

all fles h is the same," J>aul had observed. "There are heavenly bodies and there are earth!)' bo dies" (• Co rinrhians 15'39-40). For those later Christians who atternpted to think systematically) and thus who attempted to organize their religious assertions rationally) their belief in

jesus' d ivinicy readily im•ited the coordinating claim that jesus had neither appeared nor been raised in a fles hly body.

Docetic Christology potentially provided o ne way to coordinate a whole host of related and difficult issues: how to read t he Bible, especially Genesis: h ow ro conceptualize both God and those beings made "after h is image and likeness'' (Genesis 1:27); how to wring some overa rching consistency o ut o f Paul 's letters~ how ro imagine salvation. If t he god described in Genesis had rnade the physical universe, fo r example, how could he be rhe hig hesr god ? If rhe stories abour rhac god stood in jewish scriptures commonly known as the Law, and if Paul so frequenrly contrasred Law and gospel, how should rhe Christian regard those scriptures and rhat god ? God is spir it; fles h (as Paul frequently asserted) battles against the spirit. How then could salvation rnean anything oth er than the redemption o f the hu man spirit from t his lower cosmos o f fleshJ sin, and dead\ and its t ransfer to rhe divine realm of spirit, love, and life eternal? But docetic Ch risrology did more than provide a pl umb line for t heology and exegesis. It also implied an answer to a question o f social import. In the view of docetist Ch ristians, "Aesh '' coordinated t heologically with the god who 1 acco rd ing to jewish scriprures, had made fles h. It was a sho rt move from this positio n to a more genera] interpretive principle, namely> that jews and Judaism were also particular!)' concerned with things of the '' flesh."' These Christians, by cont rast> saw themselves as concerned wirh things of rhe '"spiri t.'' Their d ocetic Christ po inted rhe way to coherently relate the Jewish god to the revelation o f Christ, rh e Jewish Law to rhe Christian gospel, the Jewish synagogue to the Chr istian ch urch. A Chr ist with out human fles h heralded a Christianity without j udaism. T hese positions, as we shall shorcly see, characterized the rheologies of docetist Christians Iacer on, in che early to mid-second century. \X'e cannot know how many of these ideas were affirmed b)' t hose first-century Docetists whose existence we can o nly glimpse behind the polemics o f the epistles o f john in the New Tesrament. Bur they stand as the anonymous o rigins o f a strong cheologlcaJ current that courses through major C hrisd a n t hinkers in t h e second century and on to Augustine himself in t he fo urth. The young Augustine, encounterlng ph ilosophy fo r rhe fi rst rime as a gifted "undergrad uate" in the early 370s, shed his childhood faith ro adhere

58 •

AUGUSTISE AND THE JEWS

for over a decade ro the o utlawed church of the Manichees. This commu nity introduced him to the docetic Ch rist and to the anti Jewish PauL The in tellecrua] coherence of the Manichaean position, and its 4

unnerving resonance with more mainstream Chrisrian paideia with its traditions of anti-judaism, haunted him long after he recurned to the Roman church. Augustine's teachings o n Jews and judaism have the clariC)' and the power that they do in no small part because Augustine had to pitch them against the clarity and the power of Manichaeism.

• •• ETE RNITY AND HIST ORY, god

and cosmos, time and redemption, spirit and matter. Philosophical paideia d icrated the terms and the problems that intellectual Christians thought with when they tried to frame a theology. llut it also, through allegory, offered a means by which to reach answers. This was because Christian paideia, like its Jewish and pagan elder siblings, relied profoundly upon textual interpretation. The premier text was the Septuagin t. Thro ugh their applications of allegorical in terpretation, Christian thinkers could achieve an understanding of the Sepruagint which d isclosed its "true," spiri tual meaning as a revelation of Ch rist. Paul's own letters once again provide o ur earliest instance of this sort of reading. Christ was the focal point for Paul's new perspective on scripture. Once he joined the Christian movement, Paul was cer rain that his native traditions and Israel's scriptures themselves, properly understood ("acco rd ing to the spirit, not according to the letter"), actually enunciated his own current co nvictio ns. Thus) when speaking to his Corinthian community about the material support due Christian apostles, he suddenly recalled a reaching of Moses. Deuteronomy 2):4, he realized, clinched his argument. "Do I s.ay this on human auchoriry? Does not the Law say the same? For it is written in the Law o f to.~loses, 'You shall not muzzle an ox when it is treading g rain', (1 Corinthians 9:4-9). Clearly, Pau] urges, the Law seeks to communicate more than just suggestions on good animal husbandry. "Is it fo r oxen that God is concerned? Does be not speak entire/} for our ow11 sake?" (v. 10). The more profound meaning o f Deuteronomy, in other words, 4

4

Paidd.r: Pagd11, j t'wi sll, Cl>ristian · 59

does not coincide with what ir plainly Sa)'S: Thar much would be obvio us ro anyone hearing the re.xt. Rather, understood spiri tuaBy, the La\v reveals a crucial trurh precisely pertinent to Paul's current situation: Christian a postles working in and for t he spir irual well-being of the community ("treading grain") should not be remained ("muzzled") from partaking of the community's materiaJ well-being. Shortly thereafter in rhis same lener>referring to Israel's wandering in the desert after leaving Egypt> Paul retrojects Christ back inro Exodus as a character in the biblical story and as an agent in lsrad•s past. The children oflsrael dran k water from a rock in the desert, Paul recounts> "and thar Rock was Chr ist/ • (1 Corinthians l0:4}. Nonetheless, Paul contin ues, some of these same Israelites later fell in to idol worship (the Golden Calf, Exodus _l2) and thence plunged in to indiscriminate eating> drinking, dancing> and idolatry's invariable companion sin , fo rnication. God destroyed them. Paul's argument assumes rhat t hese historical events did occur. But t he reason for their being recorded in scripture was in order thar the lesson be preserved fo r h is Corinthian community. "Now these things happened co them as a warning, bstt the)' w~re tvrittetl dortm for our imtruction>upo11 whom tiJe tmd ofdJe d.gf!s has come'' (1 Corinthians tO:l 1; we \\~II consider Paul1s last phrase shortly). Pa ul' s lesson here p resumes a notion of Christ's preexistence, and t he role of Christ as an actor in the foundatio nal history of Israel. Bur the reason fo r which this story was preserved in scripture, he teaches, was to serve as a clear moral warning ro Paul's gentile Christians: These Corinthians better not even think about worshiping idols again. Scholars designate t his last sort of reading l)•pology. A genre of allegory>t:ypolog)' takes a n episode o r person or image from scripture a nd trea ts it as a model or "type" (Greek tupos) rhat serves to in terpret a d iffe rent situation, understanding, or event occurring outside the frame of the original story. In the exa mple just given> the story o f the Golden Calf is a cautio nary tale. The Israelites of the generation of the Exodus serve Paul as a type of and a negative role model for the first-cent ury gentile community whom he addresses. \Ve can see Paul creating another such web of referents in Galatians 4>where he constructs a long lesson a round Abraham, Sarah and Hagar> Isaac and

60 • ... UOUSTlNE AS"D THll Jl!WS

Jshmael.]erusalem above and jerusalem below, all o riented around the poles of spirit versus fles h (Galatians 4:21-Jt. "Now these things a re being allegorized," he cues h is lisceners: v. 24). In Galatians his typology restates the message o f the entire episde: His Christian Gentiles in Galatia must not listen to other Christian m issionaries who advise them to be circumcised. In borh of these instances-with the Corinthians about ido l wor· ship, with the Galatians abour circu mcision-Paul read t he Bible rypologicaJiy as a way to situ ate h imself and h is listeners in their current context. Pauline typology d10s represents a radical updating of the Bib le and, at the same moment, a radical reinterpretation of j ewish h i.scory. The prime purpose an d function of these ancient stories, both religiously and historically, beco mes un derstanding rhe (gentile, Christian) present, which in rurn means revising older u ndersta nd ings of the Jewish past. Indeed, urges Paul, it was precisely fo r the benefit of h is gent ile Christian communities in t heir current h istorical momem chat scripture contained these texts. As he says in h is fi nal letter, Romans1 "\Vharever was written d own in former days was written for our instruction" (Romans 15:4). AJI th ese styles of "spirit ual" in terpretatlon would go on co have long lives as techn iques by \vhich to render th e Septuagin t a C hristian book. In this sense (as in others), later Christian in terpreters owed much to Paul (as, indeed, t hey would also owe much to Philo). Bu t PauJ•s situation v•.-as fundamentall)' different from that of h is later rheological heirs fo r rwo important and historica.lly specific reasons. First, Paul thought of h imself as a jew a nd he though< of his message as j udaism. And, second , Pau l was convinced char he stood o n th e ed ge of che End of ri me. As a Jew, Paul w1dersrood the "true" meaning o f scripture. He identified this with his own in terpretation o f the gospel, which he saw as co nfirming and con forming to the p romises that God had made to Israel lo ng ago through Abraham, Isaac, and jacob. We hear h im srar· ing these ideas most d early (and calmly) in h is fi nal letter, written to Christian Gentiles in Rome. "For J tell you t hat Christ became a ser· vant to the circumcised to show God's truth fulness> in order to con· fi nn the p ro rn ises made to the pa triarchs" (Romans 15:8). To be rrue to

scripture, Christ's redemption had to encompass Paul's "kinsmen by race/' his suggenoi, the Jews (Ro mans 9:3 RSV). Yet, as Paul knew, the good news of Chr ist had left many of his kinsmen un moved. Did rhis mean, then, that the word of God had failed? Impossible (9:6). What, then, was the explanation for Israel's ind iffere nce o r hostility ro Paul's message? In Chapters 9 through 11 of this letter addressed to the community ar Ro me, we hear Paul resolving rhis dilemma. Here he relies not o n reading scripture aJiegorically, bur rather o n consrruccing a g rand narrative rhat is at o nce historical-that is, set in the past-and, therefore~ also prophetic. In this g rand narrative, Paul develops a description of the ways that God has worked and will work in hisrory, choosing individ uals and natio ns to act (whether positively or negatively) as his agents, in o rder to achieve his purpose of redemption. Paul begins by seeming to narrow the field o f those enco mpassed by God's promise. He distinguishes two po pulations within Israel, those descended fro m Abraham according to the Aesh and those descended through the child of the promise, Isaac (Ro mans 9:6-9). Abraham had children by other women, but by Sarah alone he had Isaac, his divinely designated heir. And even between child ren of the same rnother- twins, no less~ and still in utero-God chose o ne brother, j acob, over rhe other, Esau, "though they were nor yet bo rn and had done nothing either good o r bad" (9:1o- 13)· What, then, of the question o f fai rness? "Is there injustice with God? God forbid!" (9:14). God, not man, contro ls history. God, not n1an, knows the djvine plan (9:J1). In pursuit of his purpose of elecrion, "so chat my name may be proclaimed in all the earth," God even hardened Pharaoh' s heart so that Pharaoh co uld not respond to rhe divine call (9:16-18). Like a porter, God shapes rhe clay of humanity as he will~ some vessels for mercy and others fo r wrath (9:19-13). All o f this controlling and choosing and shaping rests absolutely with God's prerogative, and he owes humanity no explanation. ···\Vho are you, 0 rnan, to answer back to God?" (9:20). This, urges Paul, is the way ro u nderstand the justice o f God. For now, God has evidently elected only some Jews (a mere remnan t, Romans 9:27) and some Gentiles. God can and does pick whomever he wanes to receive his mercy. He is under obligation ro no one.

62

· AUGUSTINE ASO THE J EWS

Bur Paul is commirred to a much broader vision o f redemption, and so is h is god, so he does nor leave marters here. It is true, he says, t hat in spurning t he gospel, Israel has p roven to be d isobedient and conrrary (Roman s 10:4,t8)21). Does lsrael's rejection o f God 's plan mean ch at God in turn has rejected Israel (11 :1)? "By no means!" Paul answers. T he current sit uation, he u rges) is both providentiaJ and temporary, for Israel's response to God's initiative is itseJf determined by God. For t he present, God has chosen " by grace'' only a remnan t o f Israel, just as back in t he days of Elijah he kept 7,000 men from worship ing the god Ba'aJ. So too he has currend}' ('hardened '' the g reater part of Israel, much as he once hardened Pharaoh (11:2-7, cf. 9:17 o n Pharao h). But God, explains Paul, has always intended Israel's "full inclusion" in redemption (11:12). True) the Gentiles have taken precedence with respect to the gospel, but ch is, Pau l war ns them) was not due to any merit whatsoever o n th eir parr, but solely to God•s surprising plan. "'Lest you be wise in your own conceits)., Paul cau tions h is gentiJe hearers in Rome~

I \vane you ro understand this mystery, brerhren. A hardening has co1ne upon parr of Israel, until the fuJI number ofrhe Gencfles come 1n, a11d so all Jsr.:reluttlf be saved. . . . As regards rhe gospel, rhey are rhe enem1es of God fot' )'OUr sake; bm as l'egards election t he)' a~·e belov~d for t he sake of their forefathers. For tl~ fifi; and tbe c.al.J of God are irreti()Cab/~t. j ust as you were once d1sobediem co God bur now have received metC)' because of rheir disobedience, so they have now been disobedtenr in order char, b)' rhe mercy shown ro }''OU, rhey may l'ecetve mercy. For God has consigned all men ro disobedience, dMt. be may batlf! nmt)' upcm ~u. ROMANS IJ:lj- p

RSV

Exa mining Paul in the retrospect o f h isro ry, we can sort through h is convictions, identifying those chat he would have had even if he had never encoun tered rhe C hristian movement and chose that he had specifically on account of his involvement in the Christian movemenr. And fo r clarity we label such beliefs "jl?\vish" or "Christian.'' In rerms of Pau l's own experience, however, such identifications a re a g ross anachronism 1 a nd they risk representing a f.1.lse d ichotomy. Jn his own

view, Paul was always a jew, in both phases of h is Jife. In l:1.ct-and again in his own view-Paul was always a n excellent jew in both phases o f h is life. Before receiving his call, " I advanced in Judaism beyond ma ny of nl)' own age among my people'' (Galatians 1..:14); "As to righteousness under the Law, I was blameless" (Philippians j:G). And given his own understanding of the message of Christ, he was also convinced that he was a superior Jew: chosen before birth by God himself to be an apostle to the Gentiles (Galatians Clj-16), empowered by God's own spirit to prophesy and to teach (t Corinthians L4 passim)> superior to other missionaries to an extraord inary degree on account of his fortitude in suffering (2 Corin thians u passim) and on account of his elevated visions and revelations (2 Corinthians t2.:r-s). "By the grace of God I a m what I am," Paul proclaimed, adding (wirh no false modesty) "and God's grace toward me was not in vain" (t Corinth ians

1p0). Our a nalytic disrinction between Paul rhe Jew and Paul the Christian simply does not ca rry over in to his own life. He was both> an d he saw th e message of Christ as absolutely synonymous with his native religion a nd with God's pro mises to Israel) his «kinsmen b)' race" (Romans 9:3 RSV). Paul 's convinions as a jew-that the god of Israel was both just and merciful, that his p ro rnises to Israel were irrevocable, rhat Israel's redemption was u naJrerably promised in the scriptures-might have conAicred with his co nvicrions as an apostle of Chrisr. After all, by mid· cent ury, when he wrote Romans, rh e gospel mission to Israel \liaS not meeting with conspicuous success. And Paul's convictions specifically as a Christian jew-char jesus truly \vas rhe messiah) thar he truly had been raised 1 that h is resurrection rruly heralded th e establishment o f God's kingdom-might have conAicted with his experience. After all) Christ had died and been raised nearl)' t\1/0 decades prior ro Pau1's writing his letter to Ron1e, a nd still the End had not come. But instead, through h is rereading of scripture, h is bed rock confidence in God's promises to Jsrael, and his certain ty chat the End \vas indeed at hand ("nearer to us," he cells the community in Rome, "rhan when we fi rst believed"; Romans IJ:II), Paul ingeniously resolved the tensions bet\veen his convictions a nd his experience. He understood God's plan. Because h e had seen rh e risen Christ, Paul believed that he knew what time ir was on God's dock. He was convinced ch at he lived and

Cl4 • AUGUSTIS l! AN I) THE JSWS

worked in the very last days, in histOJ')''s final generation. For this reason he could tell his community that the End of the Age had 111tud)' come upon them (1 Corinthians JO:u, quoted above). He would witness Chr i.sr·s rerurn, when "we who are alive, who are left un til the coming of the Lo rd " would be caught up with the resurrected dead to meet Christ in the air (t Thessalonianq:J) - 17). "We shall not all sleep," he tells his Gentiles in Corinth, "but we shall all be changed" (t Corinthians '5'51). Thus for Paul as for the o ther early apostles, Christ's resurrection v.ras no solitary event. Indeed, the resurrection of Christ was incomprehensible without irs co mmunal d imension. "If the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised'' {t Corinthians 15:16). For Paul as fo r this first generation of aposdes and missio naries, the risen Ch rist presaged the returning Christ, the imminent resurrection of all the dead and the transformatio n of rhe living, and the establish menr of God's kingdom. True, by the time chat Pau] wrote Romans> a gap of some twenty years had opened between Christ•s resurrection and his seco nd coming. But Paul knew why: God was giving Paul a little more rime to complete his mission to the Gentiles. Soon, very soon~ Christ would retu rn. God would stop his miraculous hardening of lsraef•s heart>and everyone- the full n umber of the Gentiles and all Israel-would enter in to rhe red emption promised in scripture (Romans 11:25). The entire biblical past wast for Paul, transparent upon current events {15~). He wove his own experience in this new messianic movernent together with his understanding of Jsrael's past as presenred in script ure co produce a sing le grand narrative of redemption. His experience of Christian pagans• tur ning frmn idols and false gods to the exclusive worship of the god ofJsraelJ together with his own witness to the risen Christ, charged the present wirh eschatological significance. These events confirmed Paul in his conviction that the kingdom truly was ar hand .

••• THE KIN ODOM, J·IOWE\'ER, did

not arrive within the first generation of chis viral new messianic movement. ln consequence> its foundational prophecy-"The Kingdom of God is at hand'"- shifted meanings as the missio n spread. Scattered communities of very diverse orientation

were left to make sense o f the gospel p roclamation, of t he jewish sc riptu res on which it was based, and o f t he literary legacy o f its early years> most especially t he letters o f i>aul. As forms o f the Christian message reach erudite urban eli tes, we begin to see evidence (as wit h our anonymous late-fi rst-century Docetists) o f learned reflection on its various eleme nts. Pagan intellectuals) commit ting t hemselves to Christian ity, applied th eir t rain ing in systematic rational thought, forens ic argument, and techn iques o f textual interpretation co t hese Greek Jewish texrs. Rising to rhe challenge of finding

mean ing in t he early message, rhese men defended th eir views using all the tools a nd skills of rhetoric and all the philosophical soph istication that their educad ons had made avai lable to them. T he result was an eruption of intra-Christian rheological dispute. By comparing rhe work of t hree p rominent early gentile Ch ristian theologians-Valentinus (fl. lJO), Marcion (fl. 40), and j ustin (fl. tjO)we can gain a sense o f the issues that shaped this dispute. These men came fro m various corners of the e mpire: Va1ent inus from Alexandr ia in Egypt, Marcion from Pont us by the Black Sea, Justin from Neapolis (now Nablus) in Ro man Palestine. For a moment, all three lived in Rome. T heir common ed ucational culture and t heir shared conviction that salva tion was uniquely available through Chrisr d id not preclude birrer enm iry. All rhree theologians left behind teachings rhar contributed to t he fo rmation of long-lived, \vide-flung, and mut ually a ntagonistic churches. And their a rgumenrs esta blished poin ts o f contention t hat s haped rheological controversy fo r centuries, in their own period up ro Augustine's day and beyond. This antagonism might surprise u.s. because these men and their respective commun it ies held so much in common. Two o riginally separate strands of ancient monotheism- from t he pagan side throug h philosophy, fi·om rhejewish side through t he Bible and the lirerature o f the early Christian movement- twined together in their works. AJI t h ree theologians defined the high god philosoph ically: He was u nique, perfect, good, ch angeless, incorpo real, utterly t ranscendent, and so o n. An d th is o·anscendent deity, the)' agreed , was indeed th e father of Jesus Christ. They all asserted, further, in light o f their co mmitment to this definition of the h igh god, that the divine intelligence who had orga-

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nized the material cosmos could only be a lower god. And t his lower god, they concurred, was the creative deity described in Genesis and accive throughout the Septuagint. And, fi nally, they all three asserted that rh e Septuagint, in terpreted correctly-char is, with spirit ual understanding-provided crucial insight into Christian revelation." Despite their broad agreement, however> th ese theologians were much divided o n t\vo questio ns. One, whose ul timate source in learned t"fediterranean culrure was the Platonic p hilosophical n·adition, concerned the moral sta tus o f matter. \Vas matter good or bad? The seco nd, whose source was th e Christian message itsel~ concerned the stat us of the Septuagint. How were jewish scriptures to be read and used to gain insigh t into Christian truth? The a nswer to o ne question immediate!)' affected the a nswer to t he other. Of th ese three Chr istian th inkers, t he first, Valentinus> was the most intellectually sophisticated, the most ph ilosophically radical, and the most theologically o riginal. At our cu rrent distan ce from h is work, which was sup pressed by the fo u rth-century Roman church, we cannot sort o ut the sequence o f h is convictions. Did his reading of the Septuagint prompt h is belief that the material cosmos was evil? O r did his belief that matter was evil subsequendy inform his interpreta tion of Genesis? HO\vever he a rrived at h is convictions, th ey led Valentin us to break with o ne of the prime positions o f Ro man-period Platonism, namely, that the cosmos was good, because irs o rganizatio n reflected the o peratio n o f divine mind. Valent i nus and his followers, o n the contrary. saw the material cosmos as a barrier rather than a bridge to the realm oflig ht and love beyond. And as the Valentinian estimate of the moral status of the physical u niverse sank, so too did their opinion of the god of Genesis who had o rganized matter. Co rrespondingly, cheir opinion o f the people who revered this god an d kept h is laws-that is, the Jews-sank as well. Genesis and other books o f the Jewish Bible d id in deed reveal Christian tru th, srud th e Valenrinians; but o ne had to know how to read t hese texts with spiritual insight to arrive at this truth. Such understanding exposed the biblical god as an ignorant deity, obsessively concerned with b lood sacrifices a nd sexuaJ couplings. His d istasteful and small-minded laws related exclusively to the j ews. Yet deep within

this unelevating text lay t he long-co ncealed message o f the h igh god, revealed now co his elect by the co ming o f his son. This message imparced other, divine, spiriruaJ laws chat were in fact directed toward the enlightened Christian. Rules for how to interpret t he Septuagint> transmitted t h rough aposto lic rraditiol\ could aid rhe discerning reader in di.sringuishing these spiritual commands fro m all the oth ers in the Bible char were d irected solely to Israel according to the flesh.t1 lvtarcion a nd his fo llowers sha red with the Valeminians t he view that matcer was the defective product of the lower god described in Genesis. They arrived at this position> however, by diffe rent textual means. Valemin ian teachings had drawn on a huge, rich, a nd eclectic assemb lage o f books: t he Septuagint (pa rticularly Genesis), various gospels, apostolic letters, and a considerable volume of their own inspired writings ("a countless number!'' complained their opponent lrenaeus. Against Heresies 1.10 11). Ma rcion concentrated his interpretive efforts much more narrowly. Fo r him, what mattered most \vere the letters of Paul. The co ntrasting pairs that structured Pauline rhetoricLaw and gospel, wo rks a nd g race, fles h an d spirit, Jew and Gent ileMardo n read as absolute, antagonistic o pposites. (In his sup pressed theological work, rhe Antitheses, .Marcion compa red statements in jewish scriptures to chose in Christian writings to demonstrate what he saw as the in tr insic incompacibility o f c.he cwo.) This reading of Paul led Mardo n to fo nnulare a radically new idea. Using Paul to a ut ho rize his position) Marcion repudiated not onl)' tradit ional jewish religious practices {the "works o f the Law") but also- t his is Marcio n•s novum-rhe scriptures that enjoined t hem. Both, he said> were " Aeshly'' and rhus inrrinsically unacceptable to the true follo,ver of Chrisr. The source of rh e Septuaginr t raditions was entirely the lower, justice-obsessed god o f t he jews. Bu t (gentile) Christians, urged Marc ion, worshiped the high god, the farher o f Christ, revealed by h is son u niquely through Pau l to be an aJI-Ioving and aJI-good de icy. jewish scripcure, t hen, should be u trerly relinquished to the Jews, who in any case insisted that ic was t heirs. In its place, Marcion proposed a new, specifically Ch risrian canon: a single gospel and the letrers of Pau L But wha t about those p laces in the Pauline co rpus where Paul had

68 ·

AUGUSTINE AI': I) THE J EWS

praised rhe Law, invoking irs a uthori ty and commending irs holiness? When arguing thar women should keep silent in co mmunity, Paul had urged thar rh ey "should be subo rd inate, even as the Law says,., (1 Co rimhians 14:34). "The law is holy,'' Paul had declared, "and the commandment is holy and just and good" (Romans 7:1 2). Paul's jewish e nemies, Ma rcion concluded, had corrupted Paul's lecrers by inrrod ucing these and och er similar assertions inro later copies of them. Marcion purged these statements, which he regarded as interpo lations. Elegantly, decisively, he thereby produced both a de-Judaized Apostle and a de-ju daized Ch ristian canon, a "new,. tesrament.'l Despite their very different views on what p roperly constituted C hristian texts, bo th Valenti nians and Jvlarcionites shared a similar Christology and rhus a sirnilar idea of red emption. Since matter, thus flesh (they ag reed), was the flawed medium of the moral ly derelict god of the jews, t here was no reason t hat Christ should have put it o n when he entered history to perform his m ission o f salvation. Rather, he had only seemed to have a body: In reality, he had a ppeared in the "likeness" of flesh. (Paul's statemenc in Philippians 2:s-u len t itself readily to this view.) According ly, nothing so crude as flesh was included in hu man redemption, either. (Had not Paul himself taught chat "flesh and blood will not inherit the k ingdom o f God," 1 Corinthians tj :jO?) Christ had been raised in a spirituaJ body, and t hat was rhe same sort of"body" that t he redeemed Chr istian would have. (Th is position, roo, was based on Paul: A dead human body at burial. he taugh t, "is sown a physical body, and it is raised a spiritual body isoma pnenmatiiwn]. If there is a physical body, there is also a spiricual body"; 1 Corinthians '5'44-) Flesh was not t ruly parr o f rhe person~ rather, flesh was rhe trap set by the lo\ver god ro e nsnare t he person, whose true self was h is soul. According ly. rhe salvation of Christians would nor be achieved en ma$St"' as a historical evem . Rather, rh e individua] soul, shedding rh e e ncum brance o f fles h at death~ \vould rise rh rough th e material universe and ou t of it1 to rhe rranscendenr realm of t he Father a bove. Against the positions of rhese two t heo logians stood t heir younger conremporary,J usrin. For all h is objections to t hem, however, Justin shared rnany o f t heir views. Like Valentin us and Ma rcion)Justin delined the hig h god according co the can ons of philosophical paideia.

Paidtu: Pagan, jtu•lrh, Christian · 69

Like Valentin us and Marcion, he also asserted chat this high god was the f."her of jesus Christ. And, again like Valentin us and Marcion, he too held that the busy deity who ap(J<'ared in the Septuagint in so many places and in so many sto ries-here conversing with Abraham, there speaking with Moses-could not possibly have been the high god. Jnsread,Justin \vrotet this deity had to be a heteros tbeos>anor.her) lower god (Dialogue wilb Trypbo 56). And he too maintained that Christian truth was made evident in Jewish scripture, providing one knew how to read wirh spirituaJ understanding. But j ustin held a philosophical positio n o n the moral status of n1atter that distinguished him from his two Ch ristian colleagues and aligned him more with his pagan intellectuaJ contemporaries. Like philosophers in the mainstream Platonic tradirion, J ustin also viewed matter as defective but not in itself evil. This conviction in rurn enabled and informed j ustin's bold Christology, and his equall)' bold reread ing of the jewish Bible. Since matter was nor evil, argued Justin, then neither was the Jo,,.:er god of Genesis who had fo rmed man er. No reason, then, to think thar that god was the cosmic opponent o f the divine son and of his father. But, no less obviously, chis active god could not possibly be the hig h god himself. Therefore, urged j ustin, the identity of rhe creator god of Genesis) the chief divine personality presented as an actor in Israel's history aiJ th roughout the Jewish scriptures1 co uld only be the divine son, Christ himself, before his incarnanon. In o ne sweeping motio n,. Justin was thus able ro argue thar the Septuagint, in a d irect and positive wa)', was a book of Christian revelation. Indeed, according to his interpretation, Christ tvas the god presented in the jewish Bible. More boldly still, j ustin was thus able to insist thar Christ, on this account, was (and always had been) the proi'<'r o bject of jewisb worship. Christ was the god who had spoken with Abraham, Christ was the god who had redeemed Israel from Egypt, Christ was the god who had given the Law o n Sinai) and so o n (Dialogue with Trypbc 56-62, cf. 38). Moses, the prophets, rhe psalmistall the great spiritual heroes o f Israel had realized this, j ustin claimed. \Vhen read with spiritual underscanding) their writings o bvious!)' spoke, whether symbolically or prophetically, of Christ.

iO •

AUGUSTISl! AN I) THE JSWS

Accordingly Justin argued t hat when Christ, the god present a t Sinai, had given his laws to Israel, he was actually giving Jsrael a coded message whose deeper, spiritual meaning was h imself. Alas, the Jews misunderscood h im. As always, thejev.'S interpreted rhe l.a\V in a fleshly way (Dialogu• with Tiypho 11- 14, a nd freq uendy elsewhere). They per· formed as physical acts-blood sacrifices, purificatio n rituals, a nd so o n- whar were mean r either as allegories or as pro phecies of Chrisc. Thus, in j uscin's perspective, rh e je\\~sh Bible, in t he most p rofound and direct way, rt'as the Christian Bible: Its divine author, after aliJ was Christ. Nor was •' Israel" actually the jews: Once read cor recti)'> t he Bible clearly prophesied the rejection o f the old Israel and t he salvation o f the True Israel, that is, of rhe gentile church (or, more precisely, ofJ ustin•s gent ile church; Ttypbo 29; ljj).jusrin could, therefore, insist against h is Christia n opponents thar nothing was wrong eirher with the Septu· agint o r wic.h its message. 'TI1e problem was not t he Bible, but the je\\'S. Furch er, a rgued Justin, since C hrist himself was t he god who had framed the material cosmos, norh ing impeded his truly assuming flesh when he fi nally did appear in histor)'· Not o nly had Christ lived in a real, fles hly body, Justin asserted: he had died in it, a nd he had also been raised wirh it. Neirher flesh nor matter, th en>was something t hat Chrisdans needed to escape in order to be saved. The saints, like Ch rist, would be raised in their fleshly bodies, roo. Thus> whereas Valent inus and .Marcion d efined redemption as t he soul's escape from the marerial cosmos and its ascent to a t ranscendent heaven.] uscin insisted on the resurrection not merely of a "body" but specifically and emphatically of the flesh6• body, in a communal and historical evenc to be accomplished in the last da)•'S. The saints, raised ro new life, would gather not in some spirit ual, transcendent heaven, but r ighr here o n earth. (\X'here else could Aesh and blood go?) Together wit h Christ, they would reign in Jerusalem for a tho usand years (Dialogue with Try•pbo 80-82). j ustin's views, of course, did not go u nchallenged. Valentinian s and Marcio nites contin ued to protest ch at the god of the Septuagin t was fu ndamentally incompatible, morally an d temperamentally, with Christian revelation. The Jewish god had demanded blood sacrifices. He commanded sexual procreation ("Be fruitful and multip ly"), and occasionally he ordered the wholesale slaughter of peoples. The en·

lighcened followers of Christ knew that their god would never have required b lood o fferings: Not only were such rhings fles hly in t hemselves but they came much roo d ose co the rices of t he idol-worship ing pagan majority. Further, they observed, Christ had valued virginity and sexual celibacy, nor marriage and procreation, and he had p raised those who would make rhemselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven (Marthew 19:12). Pau l h is apostle had taught that it was welJ fo r a man not to couch a woman (1Corinthians 7:1, .see also verses 28-38). Furthermore, Christians practiced love, patience, forgiveness~ they eschewed vio lence. How then could the martial deit)' of the blood-soaked Jewish book have any direcr relation to Christ o r to his gospel? Finally, they a rgued, the incoherent and u nspirirual belief in a fleshly resurrection and an earthly thousand-year reign o f the sainrsin j erusalem, no less!-bespoke a carnal JireraJ -m indedness that revealed the j ewish orientation of justin's own style of reading. And wh)' hold o n to the Jews' book an)~l>ay, if t he Christian were free of all t hose Aeshly practices and rites that the text enjoined?

••• of these second-century theologians protOundl)' affected the patterns of later Christian thought. Their writings circulated broadly; their positions and the arguments against them developed further in the writings of later generations o f theologians. Eventually, though, many of the main points of j ustin's O\vn position prevailed >thanks to the power of a belated patro n>the fourth-century Roman emperor Constantine. In .312 c.E., Constantine chose ro spo nsor and to promote chose Chr istian commu nities that had preserved the writings and expanded the arguments of j ustin and of other likeminded thinkers. And, despite the considerable rheological developments d istinguishing che Constantinian chu rch from the community o f justin's day>a common interpretive principle spanned their generations and bound them rogether, namely, that the Septuagint was a code fo r Christ. For these later Ch ristian conununities in the fou rth centLJry as fo r j ustin's in the m id-second>jewish scriptures, properl)' understood> were really the scriptures of the church. But this later community also appro priated and preserved an imT HE c oNTESTATIONS

] l • A UGUS TISE AND THE JEWS

porcant idea t hat had originated historically with Marcion. That idea had to do wit h writings t hat were specifically Christian. Scriptm~ fo r Justin had denoted Jewish sacred literat ure) mosr especially the Law and the prophets, particularly Isaiah. Relat ive-ly recent C hristian writings, such as the gospels and various letters, even ch ough ch ese were d oubtless valued by h is conununit)•, j ustin referred to as the apostles' "memoires" (Fint Apology 1.66-J). Their stat us did not equal the Septu agint's. \'\lithin fo rty years, however, this a t titude a ppears to shift. Those who succeeded j ustin a nd preserved his wri tings nonetheless held a body of specifically Christian texts as canon, as had the Marcionites before t hem. Unlike the Marcionites) however, these Ch ristians used their newer canon to b ind the Septuagint to the chu rch: The newer collection, they held, provided the necessary po ints of referen ce whereby to correctly in terpret th e o lder ca non. By the time that Co nstantine became its imperial patro n, a cent ury an d a haJf after Justin's lifetime, this chu rch had lo ng revered bo th t he Jewish scrip cures and this distinct collection of Chr istian ones as well. Marcion's original canon had been small and heavily Pauline. The later anti·Marcionite church ga thered a much broader selection of writings: fou r gospels rather than o ne; lerters written by later Christians in Pa ul's name as \veil as seven genuine letters of Paul's; the Acts of the Apostles, a continuation of Luke's gospel; var ious letters or sermons presented as letters, attributed variously to other apostles of the fi rst generacion; rhe apocalyptic visions ofJohn of Pat mos. Canonized as a "new"' testament-de facto in the late second century) officially in th e fou rth- this collection was regarded as correcting and co mpleting t he revelations record ed in t he Septuagint, now held as the (•oJd•' tesca menr of th e chu rch.4 A prime feat u re o f t he fourth-cenrw-y church's t rad itions of scrip· rural interpretation) however, gave a posrhum ous vicco ry to aJI rh ree of our second·century contestanrs. This chu rch read both parts of its Bib le, Old Testament and New, in ways that b road ly repudiated Jewish u nderstandings of the Septuagint and that effaced the Jewish co ntext and content of the co re te.xts of the New Testament canon. In so do ing, fou rth-.century imperial Christianity recapitulated a nd further developed a prime interpretive position exemplified variously in the

work of all t hree of our earlier theologians, namely, t hat both t he hig h god and h is divine son had utterly renounced Jews and Ju daism. In this ecclesiastical understanding, Jesus had come specifica lly ro teach against the jewish interpretation ofJewish law. For that macter> so had Moses a nd so had all of the p rophets in the period before the incarnation. All of rhese holy men, the church taught, as \veiJ as the Son of God himself, had denounced the Temple and its b lood sacri fices, had condemned Aeshly circumcision>had criticized the Jewish observance o f the Sabbath, and had censured Jewish practices generally. So too had Pau l, an d so roo the other apostles of rhe fi rst generation. Articulating this conviction were three broad modes of murually reinforcing arguments. O ne, which d rew ultima tely o n values and co ncepts in Plato, was rhe derogatory comparison of flesh (lower and thisworldly) to spir it (higher, t hus intrinsica lly better, a nd up per-world ly). Fled> in this rhetoric coded both intellectual inadequacy and moral tu rpitude. Christians who assigned "Jews'J a nd "Judaism" co this negative pole rhereby crea ted not only a hostile construct ofju daism. but at the same time created a posit ive construct o f themselves. And this co nstruct co uld do double-duty, for it served to express the problem with those other Christian commu nities who \vere o utside of this rhetorical and social fold. "True" Christianjty was spiritual, and true Chrisrjans understood the scriptures spiritually~ "heretical" Chriscianit)' and heretical Christians, condemned within this same value system> were o bviously carnal a nd literal minded. Jn this way, through this invective> these other, repudiated C hristians (who, like thei r opponents> were themselves Gentiles) were rhetorically rendered as "Jews.., A second genre of argument d rew o n a strongly biblical motif: the idea of prophet)' and fulfillment. Christ, said these Christians, had obviously and perfectly fu lfilled the Old Testament's prophecies about the messiah. If th e Jews failed to grasp th is filet, the fa ult was their m>n. They read rhe prophets with blind eyes and wit h carnal u nderstanding. But a ll th is had also been foreseen, these Christians pointed our. The same pro phets had co nsistently lamented their people's blind C)"eS, StoO)' hearts) and stifF necks. The Jews' rejection of t he way rhar gentile Christians read these Jewish books, in brief, con fi rmed rhar t he Christians actual!)' had t hings rig hr. Isaiah and Jeremiah had said so long ago.

74 • AU G IJSTII' £ ANO THE J EWS

Third, ap pealing to a model both pedagogical and historical, theo logians spoke of progressive revelation: God's lessons to h u manity, unfolding in time, were actuned to the abilities of th e students. Jews in this view were infants, elementa ry learners. The advanced class, history had revealed, had been reserved fo r the genrile church. This last argu· ment, invoking this educa tionaJ commonplace (beginners know less than mat ure students do) corresponded nicely with the first one. Elemental")' students, understanding a text a t its narra tive, simplest level, can g rasp only its obvious 1 "bodily" mea ning; advanced students, trained in h igher levels of in terpretation, see past the obvious and inco t he text's "spir ir." 1

These talking points were nor genera ted b)' orthodox Christian theologians in a n effort to describe actual jewish contemfX'raries, t hough they could be deployed in argu ments with Jewish conrempo· rar ies. These interpretive positions are topoi, argumencs intended to persuade listeners of the speake,~'s superiority, while position ing h is opponent at a disadvantage. Such modes of argument were used broadly, mutatis mutandis> in pagan a nd in Hellenistic Jewish polemics as welL Skill in arguing, in using beiJigerent topoi co maxj mum strategic advantage-especiaJiy in courts of law-was the praccical goal of Greco-Roman rhetorical education. Arguments structured in these ways had appeared already in Paul's let ters and in the gospels. These fi rst-century authors creared t heir own "rhetorical jews)" using the fles h/spirit dichotomy co d isparage various opponents. Paul> for example> criticizes other Christian Jews as being "fleshly" because they advoc.ace circumcision fo r Christian pagans in Galatia: His own message, he insists, is the "spiritual" one. (His lecrer to che Galatians is structured around this co ntrast, whereby Pauljspir ic/grace battles against circumcising opponents/ flesh/ works.) The same rhetorical dichotomy could be mobilized against Christian pagans who were tempted to listen to Paul's opposition. ("0 foolis h Galatians! . . . Having begun with the spirit, a re you now ending with t he flesh?"~ Galatians J:t-J). The similar contrast of ..upper'' a nd "lower" also worked welL Thus, in che fo u rth gospel, John's Jesus squares off with non-Christian jews. "You are from below/' he says to his hostile auditors, ..1 am from above. You a re of this w01id [Greek: cosmos], I a m not o f this world" (John 8:23).

P.tidtia: P. Christi.tn · 75

The rhetoric of prophecy/ fulfill ment depended o n idenrif}ing or constructing congeniaJ similarities between the older and the newer message, whereby the newer message provided the interpretive framework for the o lder scripture. \Vhen Paul twins Adam with Christ, for exam ple, he uses this sort of argument: The first Adam was "a cype o f the one who was to come" (Greek t.ttpos; Romans 5:14). T he concept o f graduated revelation/education, finally, with co ntent suited to the abilities of the hearer, could blend nicely with this rhetoric•s up/down, spiri t/ flesh dichotomies. PauiJ fo r example, combines the two when chiding the argumentative Corinthians for being immature: "I fed you with milk, nor with solid food, for you were nor ready fo r it. And even yet you are not ready, for you a re srill in the fles h" (1Corinthians J:I-J). The appeal to specifically b iblical p rophecy is everp 1·here in these Hellenistic Jewish d ocu ments. Paul invokes th e principle ("Christ died fo r our sins kata t.as graphas_,. according to rhe scriptures"~ • Corinthians t):J). The evangelists, structuring their respective presentations of the life and mission of j esus upon this same conviction, d emonstrate it through narrative. lvfark's j esus resigns himself to his arrest by saying simply, " Let the scriptures be fulfilled " (Mark 14'49). Matthew in particular, over sixty times in his gospel1 explains events by saying that t hey were d o ne specifically "in order co fulfill what was spoken by the prophets'' (for example .t-.·fatthew 1:23> on Mary's virginity; 2:14, on the fligh t to Egypt: J:q, on the sla ughter of the in nocents, and so o n). Luke's r isen Christ "begin n ing with Moses and all the prophers. _. interpreted in all the scriptures the things concerning himself'' (Luke 24:27; fo r the same idea, 24:44- 47). Jo hn's jesus, uncharaccerisricall)' curt, simply o bserves, " If you IJewsJ believed Moses, you would believe me, fo r he wrote of me'' (John 5:46). Once Paul's letters and these gospels became scripture for the later gentile churches, all of these rhetorical topoi. ripe for reuse, were redeployed. 11>< targers of choice might be " false insiders" (those other gentile Ch riscians with a diffe ren t rnessage chan the speaker's) as well as "the jews" {the perennial inti mate o utsiders). By the fourth century) when the community claiming tide to the Septuagint and to the New Testamen t fo und che emperor's favor, its d ouble canon, its identity) an d irs theology were all securely in terconnected by the tough ligaments of chis polemical rhetoric.

i6 ·

AUGUSTINE AI': I) THE J EWS

This victo rious fourth -cent ury church designated itself bo th right t hinking ("orthodox") and un iversal ("catholic")- Claiming that its teachings preserved traditions going directly back to Jesus and his original followers, rhis church pronou nced itself •'apostolic.'' Singularly empowered by Constan tine,s surprising decision in 3 12) this church propagared hostile caricarures of irs defining "enemles•'-pagans, surely; also o ther Christian communities ("hererics"}; and also, with ever-increasing authority, Jews. Unambiguous condemnations o f paganism and o f its invariable (rhetorical) accompani ments, fornication and idolatq,.> stood in both testaments. T he gods and images o riginally targeted in theJewish scriptures, of co urse> had been Canaanite deities. But once the co ndemnations o f these ancient Semitic gods, rhan ks to the Septuagint, were available in Greek> they \Vere easily redeployed against a newer pantheon, the urbane gods o f Greco-Roman culture. Specifically in New Testament documents, moreover, intra-Christian diversity had also been strongly condemned. Paul had with sarcasn1 d ismissed rival Christian missionaries as "super-aposd es" (2 Corinthians n:s)~ elsewhere, he cheerfully wished geniral self-mutilation on his Christian competition {Galatians p2). Matthew's Jesus warns against non-Matthean Christians by calling them "false prophets," wolves in sheep's clothing. Matthew acknowledges that such people indeed pray to Jesus as well as work m iracles, d rive our demons}and prophesy in his name. T hey may think, therefo re, that they follow Christ. Not so, reaches Matthew. On the last day, when it will be too late, rhese people will fi nd themselves denied ent rance to God's kingdom (Matthew 7:15-23). The a urhor o f the deutero-Pauline letter J Timothy co nsigns to Satan those Christians with whom he disagrees (1 Timothy 1:.20). 2 Peter identifies Ch ristians with beliefs differen t from his o\Vn as false pro phets and false reachers: "they will secretly introduce destr uctive haereseis" (l Peter 2:t). (This G reek word o riginally meant "opin ion" o r "school of rh ought": by the fourth cenrury, it means "heresy.") To the writer o f the Johannine epistles, other Christians, quire simply, are ' anti-Christ" (1john 2:18-t9; see also 2 John 7, said specificaJJy o f d ocerisr Christians).'' Bur r.he question of the Jews was different and, in many ways, more complicated. In the earliest decades of rhe Christian movemenr, 1

non-Christian Jews had posed a particular chaJ ienge to t he new commun ity's claims to correctly understand th e meaning of God•s promises to lsrael. Paul himself was so bafAed by his co-religionists• cool response to h is message that he a ttributed their ind iffe rence o r hostil icy to nothing less t han t he direct and providential intervention o f God. God h imself, Paul explained, was hardening Israel in order to allow t he a postles more time to concentrate on turn ing t h e nations to the gospel. At a certain point-very soon, Pa ul though t-God would release lsrad from t heir deafness and th e whole world) Jew and Gen tile, would be saved (see p. 62 above). In o ther words, while acknowledging t he p roblem of his kinsmen's rejection of the gospel, Paul in his final letter also reveals a hap py solutio n. God's prophets had foretold and described Israel's disobedience long ago: It was divinely imposed, merely tempora ry, and fated co be b rief. God's steadfastness was the foundation of Paul's conviction. God had called Israel, and "the gifcs and the call of God are irrevocable" (Romans 1 1:29). By t he second century, however, d iverse gentile C hristian con11n u nities regarded Jewish indiffere nce to or contempt fo r the gospel as a perman ent condition. In so doing, they rejected as heretical t hose o ther Christian co mmun ities, whether Jewish o r gendle) that saw no conflict between Christ and rhe Law. To neu tralize a nd to delegitimate the manifold d iversity of these Jewish o r J udaizing chu rches and to address rhe standing challenge of indiffere nt o r hostile S}'nagogues, these th in kers devised various arguments to explain why Jews were in trinsically incapable o f seeing that Christians alone had correctly u n derstood th e Jewish scriptures. Ca mal a nd proverb ially stiff necked> the Jews had missed their opportunity (so went the argumen t} and f.tiled to see that t he promise of redempt io n had already passed from them to the gentile church. Or, for t hese same reasonsJews (and t hose Christ ians who imitated t hem by keeping some of t he practices asso ciated wit h Jen·ish custom) were incapab le of seeing in the Bib le•s god the clear repudiation of carnal Jewish practice. The true Christia n>in brief, should have nothing to do with "t he Jews." Bur t his polarizing rhetoric did not describe a social reality so much as prescribe o ne. The a bsence of social clar ity was what dJ·ove the eit her/o r rhetoric of t he a rgument. 4

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78 •

AliG VST lNE AS D THE JEWS

Israel according to the fles h was WillS Ismel, "old" Israel. The Christian (and gentile) church was vtrus Israel., "true'' Israel. These sorts of arguments collectively comprise a rheological temperament and a literary-rhetorical tradition that scholars label adversm Judat"'os. o r con· b(t. Judaeos, "against the jews." Arguments adwnus luMe.os served to

confirm certain constructions of gentile Christian identity against many challengers: jewish co ntemporaries 1 pagans syrnpathetic to j udaism. gentile Christian judaizers (that is 1 gentile Christians who voluntarily assumed Jewish practices)> and jewish Christians (those jews who both proclaimed j esus and who lived according ro their ancestral practices). Bur rhe extreme variety of all of the competing gentile g roups posed no less a threat to the developing sense of Christian identity. j ust as o nly one communicy could be the true Israel, so too could o nly one community be the true church. The simple face of co nfessio nal d i· wrsity compromised the claim to possessing revealed truth. Gentile Christian contestants responded to rheir in herently com· petitive circumstances by waging rhetorical war o n each ocher. Their ammw1ition o f choice was those same polemics that they had developed and also continued co use against j udaism. In this context of eru· d ire intra-Cbristiall polemic. to call a gentile opponent a ..jew/' to accuse him of chinking or acting in ways rhat this invective identified as "jewish/' was to condemn him for being "fleshly>" '' stiff necked/' "stubborn/' "malicious"-in shore, fo r being d eeply, intrinsically un Chrisrian; indecd1 for being anti-Christian. As increasing numbers of well ed ucated Gentiles joined various Christian communiries, the intensity o f learned in tra-Ch ristian debate mo unred. So did rhe antiJewish rhetoric of abuse, as these Christians ''produced the 'jews• that rhey needed'' co attack their gentile Christian rivals. Eventually1 in the course o f the second, third) and fourth centuries, these theological ar guments among different communities o f gentile Christians elevated r.he (Jdtlff'StiS ImlMos tradition into a defining aspect of o rthodox Christian identity itself.s6 4

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4 • PAGANS, JEWS, AND C HRI STI ANS I N TH E MED ITERRAN EAN C ITY

bJ Carthage the)' catJ say, '{It is dont! by the pagam; it is done by dN! ]et11s. ,, Here, u!/10~· t.:tkes part is ~1 Cbri.stia-n. AUG USTINE, SliXM O I>I'..-.·Is 17.7 (0!'-' THE I'Ol'U L•\R

OKSl:KVANC~ OF MUNIC i f'Al FEST IVALS I N J99 C . G. }

l (ey featu res of the adversus Iudaeos tradirion, as we have just seen, formed as rhe rhetorical run-off of internal battles between welleducated gentile Christian in tellectuals. But more goes in to rheology than jusr p hilosophy, and more goes inro build ing rhe identity of a community t han deciding whom co exclude. \Ve can bEn er understand t he advers.arial tradition of Christian anri·Judaism- and thus Augustine•s singular challenges to it-by co nsidering how it fit into its social conrexr. \\l har can th e Ch ristian rhetorical presentation of rheological

ideas abo ut jews and Judaism tell us about acrual relations between j ews a nd Ch ristians? Among different kinds o f Christians? How did these scriptural communities relate to che pagan majority, and how did paga ns relate to rhem? And how do social relations among all of these different anciem communities illmnine, in turn, the ideas t hat we encounter in Christian po lemics against "the jews"? Hostility berween "jews" a nd "Christians" already shapes chose first-century documents that eventually made up t he core of rhe later New Testament canon: Paul's letters and t he gospels of Mark, Matthew, Luke, and jo hn. Difficult to remember when reading these, however, is that most of t he contestants presented in rhese writings are themselves jews. When Paul claimed thar he "violently persecuted the assembly (ekk/e.
80 • AUGUSTISl! AN I) THE JSWS

Jews. In Damascus, t h e probable location of his activity, Paul would certainly have had no authority, and no latitude, in "persecuting-" r.hat is, prosecuting or disciplining-any non-Jews (that is, pagans). Elsewhere, when he speaks of receiving thircy-njne lashes~ he again locates himself within the diaspora synagogue: This was a speci fically Jewish judicial discipline (2 Corin thians 11:24). These t\\'0 data combine ro give us a third: Both Paul and these others, whichever of them gave o r gor these punish ments, all considered themselves and looked on each other as jews. "Punishrnen t im -

plies inclusion."' As for the Christian opponents freque nd}' in the foregro und of Paul's letters co his gen tile communities, these too are Jews. ("Are they Hebrews> So am II Are t hey Israelites? So am l! Are rhey descendants of Abraham? So am 1! Are they servants of Christ? J am a better o ne"; 2 Corinthians ti:22-2J.) These objectsofPaul's ire appear to have been other Christian Jews who, like Paul himself, aJso worked to b ring the gospel to the Gentiles.' Paul's description of his own travails-imprisonmenrs, bearings, jewish juridical lashing, Roman bearing with rods. stoning (2 Corinthians 11:23- 27)-coheres well with the picture presented later in Acts (written probab ly c. tOO). Early Christian aposdes, Jews them· selves, seem often to have met with hostility and rejection in rhe d iaspora synagogues that provided the immediate context of their mixed urban missions. In the Gospel of Mark (written p robab ly sometime after 70 c.E.): the author skillfully foreshadows the post-resurrection gen tile mission in the cou rse of telling his story. His jesus works a sin· gle but spectacular healing in a pagan village {Mark 5); later, he agrees to perfo rm an exorcism at the request of a pagan wornru\ and he subsequendy reaches in pagan territory (Mark 7). Yet once in Jerusalem, Mark's Jesus " prophesies"' that his followers would experience harsh receptions in rhe Diaspora: "They will deliver you up to councils; atJd )'Ott u)t'll be beaten ill synagogues, and you will stand before governors and kings for my sake" (Mark 1):9)- tMark's Jesus, in other words, seems sci II to envisage a Jewish Christian movement, because these synagogues mentio ned in his warning would have no jurisdiction over genrile Christians. The gospels depict intra-Jewish controversies sparked over cypi · cally Je\\ish concerns. What is the right way to worsh ip rhe god of ls·

P.:~gans,

)ellis, and Christians m thr Medilerrullt'Jtl City · 81

rael? \XIhich of his laws a re the mosc important? \\/hat constitutes keeping h is Sa bbath? In lighc of h is command ments, hmv is a person o bliga ted to treat others: parents> spouses. children , and especially the poor? In the evangelists' stories, j esus argues heatedl),. with other Jews a bo ut these questions. He debates wirh Pharisees, with Sadd ucees, with priests. with scribes. and with Jews o f no party affiliation. The)' all qua rrel about the Sabbath, abour sacrifices, abour fasting, praying, and giving chari ty properly. They quote scripture to each other an d challenge each other's au thority to interpret it. The)' exch ange accusations of hypocrisy, impiecy, and b lasphemy. The evangeliscs, in shore, present a fairly typical portrait of Jewish in teractions borh in jesus' day and in their own. All rh e noise, all the a rgu ment over scripture. all the frater nal name calling, is one o f the most unmista kably Jewish things about th e j esus movement and a bo ut its earliest literature. \Vi thin a firs t-century int ra-jewish co ntext, such argu ments would and did sound like conflicting ideas a bo ut the right way to be Jewish. That right way would be rhe way urged by rhe writer of the rext. The gospels, when we regard them as sectarian jewish literature, deny any legitimacy to any consnuction o f "lsrad" o r o f the "people of God " o r of"those fi·om Above" ac odds with their a uthors• own self-understanding. In this regard, they are much like the writings of that other near-contemporary Jewish sectarian community by the Dead Sea. (And compared ro some of the things said in the Dead Sea Scrolls about je rusalem's priests, th e gospels in fict seem almost mild.) In th e gospels, as in Pau l's letters earlier, non-Christian understandings of Judaism are disallowed if not repudiared . And much o f rhe rhetoric of rejection, a t least in the gospels, is placed in the mouth ofJesus h imself.' Do the sectarian texts of these earliest Chr istians promote nega[ive stereotypes abou t fellow jews? Unquestionably. But that is what jewish sectarian texts d o) and ch at is what polemical rhetoric does. Further, all jewish te:~ts, beginn ing with Genesis, include warts-and-aU presentations of some o f their Jewish characters. [n this sense, the gospels are no more inn·insicaiJy "anti-jewish" than is the Bib le itself. But again like the Bible irself, rhe gospels, o nce they drifted o ut o f t heir commun ities of origin into a wider genrile world, were read as a standing indicnnent and pe rpetual condemnation of jews and Ju-

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daism as such , rather than as a narrative exhortation to change from

che wro ng kind ofJudaism co the right kind ofJudaism (that is, ro the author's kind of j udaism). jewish seccarian rhetoric) shorn o f irs native context, eventually became anti-jewish rhetoric} Two historical events particularly affected the composition and in-

terpretation of the gospels. Unlike Paul's Jeerers, which Paul d iccaced at mid-century, the gospels were composed after the jewish war with

Rome in 66-73 c.E. And like Paul's Jeerers-and, also, evenrually, like che Sepruagin t itself-the gospels' readership eventually became predominam l)' gentile. The arguments that the evangelists d epict between jesus and his Jewish contemporaries) the "predictions"' of the Ternple•s destruction that they place in jesus' mouth, their presentation of priestly co mplici ty in jesus· execution and their explicit linking of this complicity to the destruction o f the Temple one generation after Jesus' death: All of these elements, once the gospels circulated outside of their communities o f o rigin, made an enduring-and enduri ngly toxic-contribution co the arsenal o f gentile Christian antiJewish invective. ·n1e longesr lived and (eventually) the most toxic of these various 4

accusations was the charge that"thej ews'' killed Christ. lts roots trace back ro New Testament texts. In Paul's letter to the Thessalonians the

charge stands chat "che Jews" killed Jesus (• Thessalo nians 1:14-16). Despice jesus' indisputabl)' Roman deathJ the evangelists place the onus

for it on the Temple priesrhood and on the people o f Jerusalem. In the canonicaJ gospels,Jesus himself names the chief priests as the culprits.

The Gospel of Matthew, held by the early church co be an eyewitness account o f these events, picks up these themes from Mark's gospel

and amplifies chem. "j esus began ro show his d isciples chat he must go ro Jerusalem and suffer many chings from rhe elders and rhe chief priests and the scribes, and be killed," Marrhew reaches (16:21). Jesus' dearh specifical ly by crucifixion-a fo rm of capiral punishment exercised in j udea exclusively by Ro mans in jesus 1 lifetime-is implied o r

explicitly "forerold" as occurring at che hand of Genriles (Macrhew 16:24: 20:19). Bur as Macrhew's Jesus fo rrhrighdy reaches and as his Passion narrative dramatically proclaims, the priests and the Passover

crowd were rhe ones rruly co blame (Macrhew 20:18; 26:1- 27, 44).

Later gospel traditions further ampli l)• this theme. Luke, uniquely~ represents Pilate as declaring rhree tin1es char jesus is innocent. "I find no crime in this manJ" Pilate says co the chief priests

and the assembled crowd (Luke 23:4). And again: " I did not find this man guilty of any of your charges against him" (Luke 23:t4). And again: "I have found in him no crime deserving death" (Luke 23:22). Responsibility for Jesus' death shifts accordingly.John'sJesus, speaking \virh Pilare, makes the point even more plainly: "He who delivered me to you"-rhat is> Jerusalem 1s chief priesr-"has the greater

sin" (John 19:11). Later Christians broadened the indictment to include Jews who were nor present in jerusalem at rhe time ofj esus' death. In the Acts

of the Apostles (late fi rsr to early second centu ry?), Peter addresses a crowd o f jewish pilgrims from rhe Diaspora who are gathered in

the city for the holiday of Shavuot (Greek: Pentecost). "Men of Israel, hear these words: Jesus of Nazareth .. -)'OU cmcified and killed.. .. Let the whole house of Israel therefore know rhar God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus wbom )'OU crucified" (Acts 2:22- 2j,j6; emphasis mine). These pilgrims, presumably absent during the events of the prece ding Passover, are ''guilty" of the death o f

Jesus because-and only because-they are (non-Christian) Jews. Another second-century Christian> Melito of Sard.is, delivered an

Easter homily retelling the story of the Exodus as a <)•pology of Christ's crucifixion, while contrasting the Jews' joy In celebrating Passover with the sufferings of Christ. He builds to a dramatic crescendo: the accusarion that the Jews- his contemporaries> clearly, as well as chose presented in the gospels' narratives- are «godkille rs/' deicides:

He who bung the ea•·tb is hanging. He who fixed the beanms bas been ji.wd. He who fostmed the tmiwrse has been fostcned to a tree. T1Je Sovereign bas been i11mlted. The god bas been mttrdemi T1Je King oflsraelhas been put to death by an Jsmelite ri!)1t h.md.'

8.J ·

AUOUSTINE ANI> T HE JEWS

The rherorical force o f all these themes, further, was enhanced by another rraumatic h isro rical event: the j udean revolt against Rome led by Bar Kokhba in 1}2-135 C.E. The immed iare ca uses of this rebellion are obscure. Its resulr was not: Had rian crushed the revolt and (ac least according to a C hristian litera ry commonplace) banned jews from Judea. The Romans now designated t his territory by a political neolo gism, "Palescine"' (a Latin fo rm of'
dence that they had viewed> for generations, as "home." [n the eyes of gentile Christian theologians, however> this diaspora Jewish population had in effect just been driven out ofjudea by the Romans after70 c.E. into a punitive, divinely mandated, and long-foretold exile. The),.

had no Temple left, no jewish commonwealth; and after Hadrian, they could not even enter what had once been their capital city, Jerusalem.

Whar else could such disasrer measure, if nor rhe depths of God's wrath? In short, by interprering the whole sweep of biblical history from Cain to Caiaphas and beyond as the record of God's anger against the jews, Christian theologians combined episodes in the jewish Bible with these more recent disasters of the first and second centuries to produce a mass of muruall)' reinforcing arguments adve~·.c;us

/udaeos.s \X'e see many of these arguments assembled in justin, though they also appear frequendy elsewhere. Contemporary jews were in exile, justin explained, deprived of their Temple and their comrnonwealth>

as divine punishment for rheir role in rhe death of Christ (Dialogue widJ Tr;•pho 16). God had tolerated the Temple service only as a bulwark against the perennial Jewish tendency toward idol worship (Tr;•pho 32). The "old law" through Moses had been given to jews in the first in· stance as a punishmem fo r their stubbornness and obduracy (Trypho 1l-14, 18, 2 1-22, 27, and frequently); what was not purely punitive was

meant to be understood spiritually as pointing to Christ. But once Christ) the divine author of these figurations) finally appeared in the flesh> the jews murdered him and rejecced his teachings> just as they

had done to the prophets before him. By using the Romans to destroy the Temple, explained Justin) God had given the jews yet one more opportunity to g rasp whar he had always truly wan red [hem to understand1 namely, that the Law was ac-

tually about his Son. The Temple gone, no place for offerings re· mained, so chat blood sacrifices (which God had neverwanced anyway) were no longer possible. Surely the Jews would (finally!) realize now [hat 1-.·foses' Jaw was neve r meant to be fulfilled in a "carnal/ ' literaJ

way (Trypho J8). Yet incredibly, smbbornly, che Jews persisred, circum· cising fleshly foreskins rather than their hearts, observing the Sabbath carnally as a day of feascing and of physical repose. Having missed the

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AUG US TINE AI': I> T HE J EWS

Christo logical meanings of the ''old law,'' they now failed to u nder· stand that, t hrough C hrist and his chu rch, a '' new law·~ had been given (Tt)~pho 11- 12) . No wonder the Jewish nation was broken, scattered 1 and

powerless. A less srubborn, more p hilosophical people, sighed Justin, would ha'" seen the light long ago and joined Justin's chu rch• In real life, how traumatic fo r diaspora jews was rhe loss o f Jerusalem? In man)' ways 1 t he wound was deep. The Temple and the city had long focused the pride and the piety of the \\ide-flung Jewish nation. Both had d rawn Jews o n pilg rimage throughou t t he Roman w01id and beyond. The Temple itself had been the beneficiary of an enormous volu me o f volun tary do nations. Its sacrificial etiquecte was seen as co ntinuous since rhe days of lsraeJ•s wandering in the desert with t he tabernacle: In this sense, these sacrifices had been part of Israel's worship even before co ming into rhe Land. Descriptions of the ways that the altar functioned as the place for rhe praise, propitiation, and presence o f t he god o f Israel wove t hroughou t t he better part of the Five Books o f Moses and were t hus p roclaimed in communiry wherever Jews gathered o n the Sabbath to hear their law. Praises of the Temple were enshrined in the psalms and in t he prophets. The desire to rebuild it had fueled the hellish war under Bar Ko khba. later rabbinic traditions preserved (and expanded upon, and occasionally in· vented) the d etails of its protocols. The day of its destruction, the ninth o f Av (which usually falls in late summer), is still mourned and commemorated by a fast. In jewish liturgies and benedictio ns from that day ro this, prayers for its restoration and for the restoration of jerusalem have assumed a prominent and pennanent place.; And yet, in practical day-to-day ways, how much of a differe nce could such a loss have made? For hundreds o f years, the vast rnajoriry of Jews had lived outside of t he Land o f Israel. (East of the empire, Babylon was hon1e to a large and even more ancienr Jev.•ish community whose residence traced back ro the Bab)'lo nian exile of the sixth century u.c.E.) Generatio ns ofJews spanning three to si...: cenruries before its destruction had never experienced living in a jewish common· wealth at all and had long ago accommodated t hemselves to this fact. to.~lost o f these Jews, fo r that matter, had never laid eyes o n the Temple. The),. were already long accustomed to showing respect to their god

Pag~tns,

]e111t, dfld Christwns it1 the

M~ditt'Hdtuan

Cit)• · 87

wit hout offerings and sacrilices, because such o fferings in principle could be made only in Jerusalem. Instead, t h rough t he cycles of reading their scriptures, usually one day in seven on rh e Sabbat h, the)' had heard and learn ed abour such sacrifices. They could and d id continue to do so lo ng after t he Temple ceased to exisr.s Through t he public institution of t he synagogue and t he private instirutio n of che f.1mily, in other words, Jews throughout the world had long since devised patterns of practice char honored t heir ancestral traditio n in ways other than by making rh e o fferings mandated b)' t har tradition. Public reading of sacred stories, commun iry support for t he poor, a common calendar o f Sabbath and ho ly days that (at least notio nally) u nited jews across vast distances, th e dornestic venue of so much of Jewish observance: Thanks ro the un ique literar),. mediu m o f their traditio n- that is, t he Bib le- Jews had long since detached the worsh ip of their god from his original cu ltic site and learned how to live o n the road. Even after 70 c.E. 1 t hen, and even afrer r35, Jewish life in the Diaspora went on much as it always had. (The half-shekel Temple tax co ntinued as well, t he funds now levied against aJI Jews and d iverted by Rome to the Roma n high god, Jupiter Ca pitolimiS.} Ro man governrnent continued to respect t he long-established a ncestral practices o f its Jewish subjects, as it customar ily respected such practices of its other subject peoples. When Ro me (perhaps in the late 120s) banned the practice of circumcisio n, Jews were exempted from t he ban; slightly later} Antoninus Pius explicitly permitted circumcisio n to Jews, wh ile banning it for non-jews. Somecime between 196 and 211, t he emperors Septimius Severus and Caracalla ruled that those Jews wh o served on town councils co uld exercise rh at office withou t performing "'liturgies" (those rites and ceremonies incumbent upon a councilor) t hat might "offend against t heir religio n." And finally, when in 212 the emperor CaracalJa un iversalized Roman ci tizenship, Jews (as many others) who had been cltizens of t heir own cities became, also, citizens o f the city of Rome.9 The archaeological record fo r rh e entire Ro n1an period, both in t he Diaspo ra and in the Land of Israel, bot h before Constantine and well after him) also reveals char many jewish commun icies continued

S8

· AUGUSTINE ASO THE J EWS

to thrive. Synagogue buildings are refurbished and new ones built, oc· casionally o n a g rand scale. \Vealthy pagans contin ue co support and to sponsor localjewish activi ties~ Jewish citizens cominue to ho ld offices in mun icipal and imperial government; jewish fu nerary artifacts and inscriptio ns attest to the continued roocedness and sociaJ integration o f these communities in their d iaspora setting. And as compendia of lace Roman law codes (and the occasionaJ corn ments of irate orrhodox bishops) attest, rhe legitimacy of Jewish holy books, prop· erty> and practices co ntinues to be asserted>and Jews continue co be citizens of their d ries and o f the empire, well afrer the en1pire itself was Chr istian. The rhetoric of the adn:rsus Judaeos rrad ition does not g ive us the measure of this social reality.10

••• I'IJSTO RICAL EVENT quite d iffe rent from the faiJed j udean wars against Rome fur ther stimulated th e tulwrstiS ludaeos t radition. Those traumatizedt however, were not je\\'S but Christians-or, more specificall)', ge>Jtik Christians. Beginning in the late lirst cent ur)' a nd contin uing thereafter}gentile Christians \vere vulnerab le co acts of violence. They might be denounced before civic magistrates o r cond emned to capital punishments by imperial authorities. To be a (gentile) Christian was to risk harassment and imprisonment, perhaps juridical torture, a nd even execution.11 From the late-first co the m id rhird century, the period before the imperial governmen t became formally involved , these persecutions were random, spo radic, an d local. The absolute n umber of Christians who suffered this abuse was probably not large. (Origen in 247 c. E. opined that "the n umber could easily be co un ted"; Against Celsus J.8.) After 249, beginning wirh t he emperor Declus, imperial in itiarives attempted co e nforce cultic co n formity on th e part of all Romans {except, again, j ewish Ro mans) in the effort to solicit divine protection for the empire. The Christian sense of pe rsecution deepened as the numbers of Ch ristians affected-whether t hey defied o r complied with rh e government's initiative-increased .': \Ve are so accustomed to "knowing'' that Ro me persecuted ancient A T RAUMATIC

4

Christians chat we can fail co see how odd, unpreced en ted, and anom alous such a persecutiont in such a society, actually was. Pragmatic re4

ligious pluralism had long characterized anciem Mediterranean kingdoms in general, the Roman Empire in particular. (No one wanted to have to deal with an angry god.) To understand the sources o f t his unhap py social in novation-the invention of relig ious persecution- we need to recall whac concerned ancient peoples when t hey engaged in what we thin k of as "religious" activities. Ethnicity and an tiquity; t he standing obligations co o ne's own gods; the importance of communal cult acts, of showing and being seen co show respect; t he premium placed on maintaining t he pax deonm1, the concordat between heaven and earth thar guaranteed t he well-being of cit)• and empire: These are the considerations chat mane red to them. Cult, the ancients assumed, made gods happ)'; and when gods were happy. hu mans flouris hed. Conversely, not receiving cult made gods un happy; and when gods were un hap py, t hey made people un hap py. The problem with gentile Christians, then, in t he view of the pagan majority, was not that these people were "Ch ristian," but that they were "gentile/' o r racher (renouncing the slipperiness of o ur English translations of etlmos, p. 34 above), that they were still "pagan." That is to say, the problem was t hat, whatever the new religious practices these people chose co assume, they were nonetheless, in t he eyes o f their neighbors, still obligated to their native religious practices too, and t hus co their native gods. Gendle Christians became the objects o f local resennnents and anxieties precisely because they were deviant pagans, refusing co honor rhe gods u pon whom their city's well-being depended. Jn consequence, when chings \venc wrong-as t hings rend to do-genrile Ch ristians were easily, readily blamed. As Tertullian fan1ously complained, "If the Tiber overflows co the walls, if t he Nile does nor rise to che fields; if the sky does not move o r t he earth does; if there is famine o r plague, t he cry goes up ac o nce, 'The Christians to the lion! '" (Apology 40.2). Gentile Christians did not show t heir gods their due> and hence chey incurred the resentful accusation of "at heism"-that is, of nor honoring rhe gods (as opposed to the modern meaning o f "not believing in God"). Divine anger would affect everybody. In brief, ancesrral obligation, not particular beliefs-what people did, nor what t hey thought-was what rnattered.1> Popular fear of this strange new group fed a]so on rumor1 which attributed terrible an ti-social crimes to Christians: infanticide, canni-

90 • ... UOUST lNE

AS" D THll Jl!WS

balism, incestuous sexual intercourse. Lurid accusations like t hese, as we have seen. conformed to stereotyped views o f outsiders: Erudite ethnogra ph ies had habitually faste ned .similar descriptions o n various foreign groups (see p. 26 a bove). Against Christians, such stories evenmall)' lost their force as courts of law discred ited a nd disproved them. (Chr istians, however, in their tum >co ntin ued ro a ttribuce th ese crimes to sectarian co-religionists.) O nce a Christian stood before the magisn·ate, th e matter instead t urned on showing respect both for imperiaJ au thority and fo r the mos Romanon~m, "the ancient customs of t he Romans." Would the accused defer to t he governor's request? Would he ho nor the emperor's image? \Vould she ea t meat o r sip wine offered co the gods? Man y Chr istians complied; others refused. The stalwart might end t heir days in the arena, robed as characters fro m classical mythology, executed in spectacles recalling rh e stories of th e same gods whon1 the)' had refused more convent ionally to hono r.'4 ·n1e principals in these persecut io ns, both victims and vict im izers, were Gentiles. The pagan co ntext o f their conflict-showing honor to the gods o f majority cultu re- dominates th e ancient acco un ts. Nonetheless, Christian writers found ways to implicate Jews in these incidents o f pagan ant i-Christian violence. In his Dialog~trtuitl> Tl)pho, j ustin accused the Jews o f mu rderous harassment of Christians, extending back to the crucifixion itself: "Your hand was lifted high to d o evil, fo r even when you had k illed rhe Chr ist you did not repent, but you also h ate a nd murder us" (TI)•pi>o IJJ). Tertullian characterized synagogues as "fo untai ns of persecution'' (Scorpiace tO). Origen suggested that Jews stood ac the source of popular an ti·Ch risrian calum · nies about ritual murder) cann ibalism, a nd promiscuous sex (Against Celsus 6.27). And two impo rta nt martyr stories, Pol)~arp (mid-second centUJy) and Pionios (mid-third cent ury), prominently featured villaino us jews as instigators of, agents in, or hostile witnesses to the suffe r· ings of t he martyrs. Some h istorians incline to trust the historicity of th ese accounts ofJewish hostility, since the th eme itself in martyr stories is generally so rare. O ther historians hear in t hese accusa tions the strains o f the

adwrstH Iudaoos rheto ric t ra nsposed inro a narrative key. The components of that rhetoric ap pear in nuce in Paul's letters and the gospeJs,

Pilg.ou, Jews, a11d Cl>ristians h1 tbe Meditrrrdfltan City · 91

when those au thors co mplain t hat (other) Jews do not rightly interpret scrip ture. They achieve greater polemical fo rce and co herence in the second centu ry when, as we have seen, this rhetoric was applied in service to t he problem of Christian bib lical interpretation. Gentile Christian writers used it to make the ca.se t hat t heir church, not the diaspora synagogue, best understood how to read jewish scriptures. One o f their p roofs was that th e Jews had n ever u nderstood God's word. Not only did t he Jews interpret scriptural passages as "flesh ly., religious p ractices instead o f as spir it ual prescriptionsJ but t hey also never listened to t heir own p rophets, as the pro phetic texts themselves complained . Ch ristians also appropriated late Second Temple Jewish legends a bo ut the pro phets. Embroidering on the canonical pro phets' complaints about Jsrael's resistance to their message, these later legends related tales o f t he p rophets murders at rhe hands o f t heir own recalcitrant people. Thus Isaiah ended his days sawn in half:Jeremial1 died by stoning; Ezekiel was execured by "the ruler of the people Israel"; Micah, Amos, and Zechariah all perished violently {Amos after tortu re). These t raditions, collected in the pseudepigra phic text Lillfs ofthe Prophets, e nter Ch ristian writings already in the first century. The Jews {or "Judeans") "killed both the Lord Jesus a nd t he p rophets," a problematic passage in Paul relates (r T hessalo nians 2:15). "0 jerusalem, Jerusalem, ki lling t he prophets and sroning those wh o a re sent to youl" laments Jesus in Matthew {23'}7) and Lu ke (13'34). Matthew's Jesu s) add ressing crowds gathered a t t he Temple, adds: Woe co you, scribes a nd Pharisees, hypocrlh~sl for you build rhe rornbs of rhe prophets and adorn t he monurnems o f the riglu eous, 5a)'ing, 1' (f we had lived in rhe days of our farhei'S1 we would nor have taken pare wtrh ch em in shedding rhe blood of rhe prophers.'' Thus you wlcness againsr yourselvesJ rhar }IOU are sons of chose who murdered rhe prophers. Fill up, rhen 1 rhe measUI'e of rour farh ers. You serpents, you bi'Ood of vipers. how are you co escape semence in Gehenna? Therefore I send you prophers and Wtse men and scribes, some of whom )IOU will ktll and crucify, and some you will scoul'ge in your synagogues and

9!

· AUGUSTINE ASO TH E J EWS

persecute from town co cown, char upon you may come all che righteous blood shed on earch, from rhe blood of the innocem Ab
This "n-ajJ o f blood" motif, as ~.facthew deploys it, inculpates every generation ofJews since t he second generation o f hu manicyJ associating the Jewish people with Cain. In this view, t he Jews ki lled the prophets, and finally t hey killed even Christ himself, because t hey did not wane to hear the prophets' message t hat che Law was really a coded form o f the Gospel, its true referent Christ. 1> later Christians, writing apologies and martyr stories, a pplied t his ind ictment even more broadly. They presented t heir own Jewish concemporar ies as the cu rrent manifestat io n of this long line of persecutors char now screeched from the period o f bib lical Israel u p to jesus, thence co rh e generation of t he apostlesJ and fi nally up to cheir own day. Pau l's o ut burst in 1 Thessalonian s> the various early Christian se rmons p reserved in Acts~ t he complaints of a pologists and, evenruallyJ some stories about ch e ma rcyrs aU deploy it. T his "traH o f blood" moci f loomed large in C hristian polemic> in oth er words, in pare because the theme so supported conscrucrions of Christian iden· tity. Presenting non-Christian Jews as al\rays and everywhere hostile to C hristians (includ ing chose Sepruagintal "Christians" like Moses and the prophets, whose complaints about Israel's obstinacy filled the pages of scriprure), the younger commun ity expressed irs conviction that ic was itself bo th the true Jsrael and the true church.1<> ·nms we read in the Mart),.d
Pagans,

J~•vs,

stnd CbristiaJH iu tbr Mtdituntnea•1 City · 93

\lith enraged pagan neighbors would have put t hemselves at risk. Though Jews V.'ere customarily excused from pub lic culr, nonetheless (as \Ve have seen) th ev occasionaBv earned the resentment o f their '

'

neighbors for h olding back from ciq~vide acts of piety. In the volatile and violent context o f t hese outpourings of civic anger against gentile Christians, then, it would have been at least incautious fo r Jews to make t hemselves so conspicuous. In front of rh e mob, the),. would have risked emphasizing their own degree of religious difference from t he practices of majori ty culture precisely on t his contested issue. Martyr stories served as identity-confir ming narratives for t he Christian communities t hat preserved t hem. Reporting events as such was less th e goal of this.literarure than was exhortarion, the idealized presentation o f Christian witness, and rheological instruction. The gospels• passion narratives served as a literary a nd theological model of conduct for t he presentarion of th e martyr) and those narratives o f course had featured hostile, plotting je\VS.. The advet:.u.s Judaeos tradition, constituted in no small way o n t he pattern of those narratives, also figured in this mix, which fact probably accounts fo r the p rominence of hostile jews in some of these later stories. That tradition set the terms for how "th e j ews" were al\vays and everywhere supposed to act tmvard C hristians-that is, with unwavering malice and hostility. An d rhus t hey were depicted both in t he complaints of Christian apologists such as justin a nd Terrullian and in rhe narrative accoun ts o f n"'arcyrs' deaths such as Po~rc.arp a nd Pionios.fi PedagogicaJ and p rescriptive, the adt.tet-stts Juddeos tradition also taught gentile Christians how they should act toward Jews. Why would Christians. want to associate with t he unrepentant murderers o f their Lord? And, knowing as t hey did the t rue (that is, t he spirit ual and C hristological) meaning of the Law, why would Christians want to lmrolve themselves with t he divinely repud iated practices of carnal jewish ritual? Yet here, o n p recisely t his po int- gentile Chrisrian interactio ns with Jews-we have rich evidence t hat g ives us some measure o f t he gap between rhetoric and reality, between ideology and behavior, between what some Chr isrians said and wh at oth er Christians ac· rually did. Christian writers- often the same ones most ideo logicall)' com-

9..j •

AUGUSTISl! AN I) THE J SWS

mitted to separating Chr isd anity from judaism- frequently attesr as well to the persistence of social behaviors that t hey otherwise insist are unrhinkab le a nd impossib le. For the enrire period from the late first cenrut}' t hrough t he fourth, a nd arguably be)'Ond, rh ese literary sources complain a bout ongoing social intimacy berween gentile Christians and jews. Writers such as Ignatius (c. 100), j ustin (c. 150), and Tertullian (c. 200) all voiced alarm at rhe tendency of gentile Christians to volunra rily assume jewish practices. Both Origen in the rhird ce nrury a nd John C hrysostom in t he late fourth cent ury criticized members o f their own congregations who worsh iped and ace roget her with Jews in synagogues o n the Sabbat h and who t hen ap· pea.red ar church o n Sundays. Chrysoscom, Augustine•s contemporary, particularly excoriated Antiochene gentile Christians for frequenting j ewish Sabbath services. Jn a series of sermons delivered beginning in 386 c.E., he complained chat members of his congregatio n treated synagogues as holy p laces because those buildings contained scrolls of the Torah before which Christians would take oaths (Discom'ies against juMizing Christians 1.3-5; 8.8). Worse: These Gentiles celebrated the aurumn high holidaysRash Hashanah (t.)), Yom Kippur (1.2), Su kkot (j'. t)-and even Passover with their j ewish neighbors (3-4). Worse yer: These Christians, ignoring the rulings of rhe Council of Nicea some sixty years earlier (325 c.e.). cont inued to celebrare Easte r according to t he jewish dace for Passover, precisely because it was rhe older custom, implicit in the gospels themseh'l?s {j.J-4). It was all more rhan Chrysosrom could bear. "When have they l the jewsJ celebrated the Pasch with us>'' he demanded. ''\Vhen have they celebrated rhe festivals of the martyrs wirh us?" (4. 3). "If rhe jewish rites are hoi)' a nd venerable," he insisted, "ch en our way o f life must be false" (1.6).•• In roughly the same period, imperially sponsored ch urch councils, both in the Latin \'iiesr and in the Greek East, repeatedly pub lished canons the chief aim of wh ich was to establish and enforce a separa· tion of Christians, borh clerical and lay, from jews. The prohibitions reveal patterns o f actual behavio r. Some gent iJe Christians kepr the Sabbarh as t heir day o f rest a nd worked o n Sundays. They received festal gifts frorn jews (and also from ''heret ics,n t hat is, non-catholic

Pag~tns, }tiltS,

stnd Christians it1 the Medih'Hdtltatt Cit)' · 95

Christians). They accepted gifts o f matzah at Passover and partici· pared in Jewish wo rship. Christians co-celebrated Jewish fasts and feasts, tended lamps in synagogues o n Jewish feast days, and joined with jews (andJ again, with heretics) in pra)•'er. Chr istians and Jews married each other>so chat occasionally the Ch risrian partner joined the Jewish partner in his or her traditional practices. Archaeological evidence reveals rhat Ch ristians and Jews buried their dead togerher. And rhe Jewish calendar-especially the d ate of Passover relative to Easter-com in ued ro influence Christian communal celebrations, the poinred efforts of bisho ps and even o f empero rs notwithstanding.19 This is nor co claim chat "interfaith'' relations in antiquity were universally sunny: Beneath the smoke o f hostile rhetoric, some genuine fires also bumed. The stylized speech o f these literary sources, however, o r rheir poin ted ambiguity, makes clarity elusive. Celsus, a pagan observer) noted in the late seco nd century that jews and Ch ristians q uarreled u nendingly- though not as loudly and viciously, he also notes, as d ifferent Ch ristian g ro ups q uarreled with each other (Agaimt Cdsm J. f l o n Jew·s and Christians~ 5.63, on Christians who "slander o ne another with d readful and unspeakable \vords o f abuse ... fo r they utterly detest each other"). Later, in the lace fourth century and on into the fifth cenruq', repo rts o f violence perpetrated by Ch ristians against Jewish persons and property begin to accrue, as also against pagans and their holy sites and against Ch ristian mino rities ("heretics"} and theirs. Descri ptions of Jewish anti-Christian aggression also appear in that .s.ame period. Beginning in the fou rth cent ury and continuing thereafter) increasing acts of violence mar late Roman ~·tediterranean urban cult-ure. \Ve shall consider some of these episode.s more closely toward the end of rhis study:» But such violence is far from the who le picture. The gaps in o ur data notwithstand ing (for \1/e invar iabl)' k now less than we would like to know), our very var ied evidence for Jewish- Christian interactions, its broad chronological spread (fro m the second to the seventh cen· t llly and beyond), its wide geographical distribution (the Iberian peninsula, Gaul, Italy, North Africa, Alexandr ia, Asia Minor, Palestine), and the rich variety of its media (stories, lerrersJ sermonst imperial and ecclesiastical legislatio n, inscriptions, mosaics and other ar-

96 •

AUGUSTISl! AN I) THE JSWS

chaeological remains) also anest ro centuries of friendly relations benveen these communities as well. These data too must surely be considered in any historical assessn1em o f Christian reports o f active Jewish hosrilit)', especially in rhe pre-Constan tinian period. IfJews had actually played-or even been commonly thought co have played-a vigorous role in the pagan persecution of gentile Christians, then aU this other evidence of positive and long-lived social interactio ns between Christian Gentiles and jews beco mes extremely difficult to account fo r. Pagan Gentiles co ntinued to freq uent synagogues also, and Christian writers complain abo ut this as well. Terrullian in North Africa in rhe rhird cenrury and Cyril of Alexandria in rhe fifth cenrury both commented bitterly o n the inconsistency of those pagans who wor shiped borh rhe god of Israel and rheir o\Vn deities. Commod ian, a rhird -cenrury (or, perhaps, a fi fth-century) North African Chrisrian criticized Jews for allowing such behavio r on the part of sympathetic pagans, whom he mocked as "half-Jews." "You ought to tell them," he chides jewish contemporar ies, "whether it is right to worship the gods." The archaeological evidence of gen tile donations co jewish projects and specifically co synagogues sup po rcs rhe picture thar we can cull fro m this literarure: Lace Ro man pagans, like their Christian counterparts, co ntinued to find a place within j ewish communities..!! 4

\'V'hat Commodian does say, however> and what Ch rysostom>even in his most vituperative sermons, does llDt say hin t in the direction of an answer to the question of social context and contra ludaeos invective. As we have seen>scholars in the twentieth century co njectured that synagogues ran actual missions to Gentiles, both pagan and Chriscian, to persuade them to co nvert to Judaism. just as chu rches conducted similar m issions to Jews and to pagans. Jn this view, anti-jewish invective measured the heac generated between these two co mmunities by their white-hot competition for the limited "co nvert" market. But Commodian complains precisely that these North African synagogues are not tr}ing to convert interested pagans, while Chrysostom never complains that Antiochene synagogues attempt co persuade interested gen tile Christians to "become" jewsJ that is, to convert. In other words, what makes the synagogue so dangerous-or at least so very aggra\•at-

P.tgMH, jw•s, .J.nd Christi.tflS ill tlu Ah•diurrant.ttl City · 97

ing- to many Christian bishops in the fourth century c.e. is precise!)' its continuing exercise of the practice that stretched back to the Hellenistic cenruries u.c.E. Late Roman synagogues, like their earlier Helleniscic counterparts, received interested o utsiders tllitbout trying to convert them. And that openness~ precisely because it came without the demand for an exclusive co mmitment) is what acco unts for the synagogue's continuing attraction. A Gentile's participatio n in the community life o f his jewish neighbors, to whatever degree (casual and occasional presence, regular and committed interest, active philanthro py), was at his or her own discretion. That factJ and not the conjectu red mutuaJ missions, I suggest, is what explains all the pagan and Christian foot traffic through late Roman synagogues. That foot traffic in t urn accounts in part for the increased levels of learned vin1peration adtlf!rstts Judaeos in fourthcentury Christian texrs. And the lush tropes o f this vituperation, in tur n, combined with the explosion o r e:-.: p osure of"orthodox" Christian d iversity in the wake of Constantine's efforts to create unity, made for its perfervid reuse in the intra-Chrisrjan quarrels of the imperial ch urch." The exhortations of Christian leaders to their own floc ks, urging the faithful to desist from attending municipal festivals~ spectacles, and shows, make a related poin t. The structu res of urban society and those activities characteriscic of Mediterranean culture- education, governmem, recreation-were profou ndly, inrrinsicaJiy pagan. (Indeed, so important were these traditional fes tivals to urban life that Iacer Christian empero rs exasperated many of their O\vn bishops by insisting that town councils contin ue to sponsor these activities.} Jews had long ago fitted themselves into the pagan city, encouraging outsiders' in terest in and support for Jewish acrivities while participaring in majority cult ure as they would. For gentile Christians, these u rban structures (synagogues as well as baths and amphitheaters) and civic holidays were no less native chan they were for Jews. And any male member of the curial class from whatever religious or eth nic g roup would have been ed ucated within and would have reaped the benefits o f a purely pagan curriculum. Despite traumatic episodes o f earlier pagan hostility, then, and despite the vituperarion heaped upon civic

98 ·

AUG U STINE AI': I) T HE J EWS

celebrations and encertainmenrs by their own chu rch leaders, Christians1 like Jews, accommodated t hemselves co 1n ajoricy culture, evidently with much less difficulty t han some of their leaders would have liked. Thac is because majority cu1cure 1in many ways, was their culrure: AU o f these people \\'ere themselves Romans.lJ

•• • rh e continuing sociaJiz.ing among membe rs of r.hese diffe rent groups? The answer lies in part with the strong an d prevailing patterns of social and religious interactio n thar, by Augustine's rime, had shaped life in the Mediterranean city fo r nearly a millenniu m. Celebrations o f all sores- processions, co mmu nal ead ng, urban and imperial feast da)'S- were open and pub lic. Particularly in rh e eastern empire, Jewish celebrations had long n u mbered among rhese. Indeed, so strong was rh is t radition o f openness rhat rhe celebration of Christian wo rship, despite the regrets occasio naUy expressed by irate churchmen, might also be frequented by o utsiders: pagans, heretics, and jews (who would challenge the inrerpretation of Old Testament texts). Though o rthodox t heologians and bishops busily erecred rhetorical fences (as d id rheir Jewish counterparts, the rabbis) 1 the situation on the g round evidently continued to be fluid. Within these lace Roman avatars of Alexan der's imported polis, chen, and depending on whom you asked, it seems that no fences still made good neighbors.'• \XIe are unprepared to look at the evidence this way because, first of all, good relations are not what we expect co see. \Ve approach antiquity throug h the cultural memory of a millenn ium o f vio lenr Christian anti-jewish hostility1 from the massacres o f the Crusades to the d eath camps of che lasr centuq'. O ur retrospect can prompt us ro perceive Jews as segregated, perhaps even as self-segregated outsiders in t heir ancient societies, and perhaps to presuppose thar rhe traditions of an ti-Judaism so characteristic of late Roman Christian rhetoric translated) as it did in the later medieval and modern periods, into active an d generalized anti-Semitism. Similarlyt culturaJ memory enco u rages our expecration that Christians.1 gi\•en rhe choice, would avoid pagan social activities. The WNAT Accou NTS fOR

n1emory of pagan anti-Christian persecutions-preserved, occasionall)' invented, and always scrupulously cultivated by the later churchmakes ancient Ch ristians• volu ntary, indeed, insistent participation in and enjoyment of pagan ur ban culture seem deeply counrerinruitive. Yet participate the)' did: These Christians, after all, were themselves Greeks and Romans (as, indeed, were their j ewish neighbo rs also). And we are so accustomed to seeing Constantine's conversio n as the "triumph of the church"-for the very good reason that the vast majority o f writings that survive from this period belong to church fathers who presented history in this way-that we easily lose sight of the huge population e-x.tra e-cclesiam who in real life compromised and co mplicated the church's self-declared monopoly: myriad non-o rthodox Christians (including jewish Christians), Roman jews, and th rongs o f pagans who pro bably contin ued to constitute the majority of the total population throughout the better part o f the fou rth century and perhaps beyond. Orthodoxy's monopoly o f the ancient literary sources obscures this messier social reality. Ideologues of separation, the chu rch's bisho ps and theologians wrote treatises and delivered sermons that too often have been perceived as descriptions of acrual Ch risrian behavior> rather than the (perhaps wistful) prescriptions fo r behavior that the prelates would have preferred to see. When these men urged segregation on their balk)' congregations-ro shun synagogues; to avoid Jewish, pagan, and heretical convocations; to spum civic festivities with their contests and d ramas and mi me n oupes enacting w1savory scenes fro m pagan mythology-they fo ught against centuries-o ld social patterns. Their theological!)' mo tivated effort to segregate the habiruall)' mixing populations of Mediterranean cities was an evidencly unwelcome innovatio n. The threats, complaints> and laments rhat fill their sermons, together with the echoes of their effo rts that we find in church canons and in imperial legislation, all suggest that these effo rts at separatio n met with frustration much more routinely than with success.L.s Continuing positive in teractions specifically between diaspora jews and gentile Christians also had more particular contributing factors. One was the type of Ch ristianity that had "triumphed" in the

100 • ,\UG UST JNE AS D THE JllWS

fourth century and beyond. Unlike many of its various rivals, the church backed by Constantine had laid very strong and d irect claim to ch e Sepcuaginc. Those scriptures enjoining and praising che fidelity of God co Israel and of Israel co God were, as che O ld Tescamenc, pare of che ch urch's own canon, read aloud whenever the community gathered fo r worship. \Vhat Christians heard in their own services in no smaiJ way coincided with what they heard if they went to the synagogue: the public reading, in the tle1'1Jaculm; of these same texts. Jn this way, che synagogue could not be alien to visitors from the church.:ti True. the interpretation of the Old Testament was hotly contested, and that contest led directly to much of the vicuperation and venom of adtm'SUS Judaeos rhetoric. To make the O ld Testament imo a Christian book required strenuous efforts at reinterpretation, efforts that characterize the sermons and commentaries of chis period. \X'hat people in church would have heard first, however, were the biblical stories themselves. Those scriptures that che chu rch shared with rhe synagogue thus functioned as a bridge as well as a barrier between the cwo corn munities. And, ironically. some of the loudest and most articulate voices adversHS Iud(Jeos-justi n's in the second cenrury, Origen's in the chird, Jerome's in che fourch- also relied upon specifically Jewish rraditions of scriptural interpretation for their own work. Even these men learned from, and rh us in teracted with, co ntemporary jewish scholars, the better co read and to understand their own O ld Testalnenr.l7 ·n1e four canonical gospels couJd also encourage genrile Christian interest in con temporary je\l.··ish practice. In these texts, also read regular!)' in co mmunity service 1 jesus of Nazareth appeared as an obser vane Jew (Marc hew P?-•9), worshiping in synagogue o n che Sabbach a nd keeping Passover and (acco rding co Jo hn's gospel) che ocher greac pilgrimage fescivals to the Temple in jerusalem. He recited the Sbema (Mark 12:29) an d wore che prayer fringes enjoined o n Jewish males (tzit;Jot in Hebrew; kmspetia. in che gospels' G ree k; Mark 6:56}. He gave in· srructions o n how to pray in synagogue, how to keep fasts, and how to offer ac che Temple (Macchew PJ-24). He direcced h is followers o n che p roper d imensions fo r cheir phylacceries (Hebrew tefil/in; Man hew 2j:j). In community worship> first rhe gospel selectio n would be read 4

Pagans, j eu:s, and Christians in tht ,\fedJtu r.oual1 Cit)' ·

10 1

aloud and then the sermon based on the gospel would follow. As t he record of these sermons evince, t he learned priest or bishop would frequently interpret these texts in ways that vilified Jews and Jewish practice. Bu~ o n t he evidence of t hese church men's complaints~ evidencl),. the first impression on t he listener was made~ often, by the gospel stories t hemselves. Churchmen protested against their effect. ''Christ was circu mcised, t herefore you should be circumcised~" s.ay Judaizing Christians, according to a fourth-century church father. "Ch rist lived accord ing to t he Law~ t hen·tOre you should do the same" (Epiphanius~ 11Je Panarion 28.5)1). Many gentile Christians perceived jewish practice as con tinuous from the Old Testament th rough the New Testament to what they saw in t he acth•ities of their conternporary Jewish neighbors. Some justified t heir own voluntar),. observance of t hese customs and festivals by po incing precisely to the example of Christ, whose practice they wanted ro imitate. No less rhan the O ld Testament~ then> the New Testament itself could serve as a spur to Judaizing.!! The chu rch> observed Augustine, was the b ride o f Christ; bur t he synagogue was his morher (Agaimt FatlsUts t2.8; 22.39). His pit h)' remark touches on many of the reasons fo r t he persistent ambivalence of catholic Christianity toward Jews and J udaism. True, chu rch leaders routinely condemned Judaism along wit h paganism and \\~th heresy> and t heir rhetoric adventts Judaeos defi ned Jews in particular as the ultimate "'other'' against which to calibrate orthodox Christian belief and p ractice. It would be a mistake, however, in light of all this other evidence, co see t heir condemnations as a reliable measure of the actual separation of these communities or as an accurate index of a mo re general hostili ty. On the contrary: T he vitality of habitual contacts> both social and religious, bet\veen Christians and jews- as among Christians of all various sorts, Jews, and pagans- probably accoun ts for much of the shri llness and the obsessive repetitiveness o f pan·istic invective. Augustine himself certainly connibured his share co t his invective. He too, no less chan Jusrin o r Origen o r Jerome, decried jewish "obd uracy" and lamented Jewish "malice." Further, from the period of his own early schooling through to his productive years as a matu re intellectual and a powerful bisho p, Augustine moved entire!}' within a

10 2 · AllGUSTII'-t! ANO TU I! J l! W S

philosophical culture that valued the spiritual over the material, the eternal over the historical. Throughout his life, he thought within a range of theological cultures that in aJI their phases, whether heretical or orthodox, associated the Christian message with "the spirit" and che Christian construction of Judaism with "the Aesh." And all of these various Christians looked ro Paul as their premier aurhorit)' for doing so. Augustine, in short, was an unlikely revolutionary. Yet within the conrext of the adttersus Judaeos trad ition>a revolution is precisely what he achieved.

- - - - - PART TWo - - - - -

THE PRODIGAL SON Augustine the bishop bad once beetJ Augustine the ben.?tic_. atJ actitte metn.bi?Y for tuore tban a d~c:ade itt tbe church of dJ< Manichees. Ofa11 dH! aspects ofManiciMeism that had attmcJed him, Augustine later tvrot.e, its solution to the problem ofevil stood foremos~ Cosmic evil, said tbe ,o//anicbw, was lhe fault oflhe Kingdom ofDarknes~ afot~e tbat was indepwdent ofand co·etmtaltvith the good Kingdom of Light and its god. Moral evil- tbat is, sin- tvas tbe result oflhe victoty oftbis other evil entil)• wilhin tbe good individs1al. Fr..-ther, dte Manicbees idmtified lhe god oftbe Old Testammt, his a~ation, bis lmv, and bis people as lhe bistrn·ical expmsion ofthis Kingdom of Dat"!mers. AtJd tstnting to the New Testammt, tht:)' pointed especially to the letrers oftbe apostle Paul as their a11thorit)' for this view. Thus when A,.gusti1Je, shifting allefiance-s, quit tlx: Manichees for lhe c«iholic clnsrcb, more than /tis vier11 ofGod changed. His rmderst4nding ofsin «nd ofevil, his way of t~ading tire Bible, a-nd bis interpretation ofthe apostle P«ul had to cbange, too.

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5 • THE HERETI C

W1Jere does er1i/ come from? Is God confined within a bodily shape? Does be have fingmrails and hair? And catJ those men be comidet¥!d righte01u tvho had set~e~-al UJives at the same time cmd tvho killed people amf tvho offet'ed animals in sact'ifice? AUGUSn Nl! , CONrF.SSIOXS j . /,1 2

A ugust 28, 392 c.E. At age t hirty-seven, scarcely a year since h is fo rced ordination a t Hippo and a scan t five }"ears since his baptism by Ambrose back in Milan, Augustine faced the Manichaean teacher Fortunacus, his forme r colleague) in public debate. The municipal ba th was the only building large enough to hold the assemb ly gathered co watch the event: not o nly crowds from both of t he major Ch ristian factions in Hippo but also those whom Fortunatus had been ab le ro win over to his own cornmunity. Perhaps some of t he cown's remaining pagans1 intrigued>also attended; perhaps as well some of Hippo's jews. "Many people gathered/ ' Augustine•s biographer, Possidius, later commented (Ufo 6). "Some were tru ly interested, others merely curious."' The two men had knonn each other decades earlier> back in Carthage, after Auguscine had moved rhere in 371. Augustine had come from Thagaste, a n undistinguished town some 200 miles inland> to complete t he last phase of his education in rhetoric. He remained in Carthage, on and off, for a dozen years, evenrually enjoying local notoriety as an aggressive apologist and spokesman fo r his church. In time he left to pursue professionaJ advancement in Ron1e. Some people Iacer assu med rhac he had in face been chased out by t he proconsul. In 386. the imperial govern ment had taken action against t he Manichaean community, d riving t hem from t he city; and by t hat point, Augustine was well knO\vn in Carthage as a Manichee. 1

...

106 • AU
t hat co mmanded Augusrine's JoyaJty for over a decade? Born in Persian ~·tesopotamia d u ring t he previous century) Manichaeism began with the revelations that Mani) a vision· ary ascetic) received from his heavenly '' cwin." This celestial double ex· plained to Mani thac the entire universe and all life in it were the result of a momentous battle between eternally o pposed principles, Good and Evil) Light and Darkness. Their antagonistic engagement con tinued still. Those who knew this mystery could aid the Kingdom of Light, undoing the damage wrought by t his sn·uggle by ado pting re· vealed techniques of purification. Concerned to bring chis message to the rest of hu manity, Mani set abo ut establishing the first selfconsciously o rganized universal religion. He wroce down visions) prayers, and manuals of discipline. establishing an au thoritative canon of holy books. He assembled loyal apostles and d ispatched t hem to found churches. And, patronized by the emperor of Persia) he himself worked vigorously to disseminate his message. Even t ual I)·, however) ang ry Zoroastrian clergy alienated a succeeding monarch from 1v1ani's enterp rise. l\·1ani was arrested, b rought to the Persian court) imprisoned ) and tortured. Around 276, he d ied a marcyr's death.~ His movement) however, end ured and flourished. In the East, via the Silk Road, Manichaeism eventually penetrated China; in the West, it traveled across t he Syrian fro ntier into Palestine, Egypr, North Africa, and Ro me, ultimately reaching Gaul and Spain. The extraord inary range of languages in which Manichaean te.~ts are preservedArabic, Chinese~ Coptic, Greek, Latin, Middle Persian, Parthian,Syriac (their chief o riginal med iu m), Turkic, and s.everaJ les..'ier known Easeern tongues- gives t he measu re of t he vigor and che vision of chis extrao rdinary fo rm o f Ch ristianity. Its founder, presenting himself, like Paul in che New Testament, as "the Apostle of jesus Christ/' felt charged to bring t he good news of redemption, t he final phase of Christian revelation, to all the nations. From the beginning, l\·fani's church was a mission chu rch. WHAT WAS THIS C li RISTlAN SECT

4

In rhe \'Vest, the Ro man response was firm and harsh. \X'ichin twenty years of Mani's death, t he pagan emperor Diocletian, o n guard against "Persian'' infiltrarion.s~ djrecced the proco nsul o f Africa to

burn ~.fanichaean leaders togecher with cheir books and to seize an)' property for the imperiaJ rreasury. Later Christia n emperors trea ted Manichees no more kindl)'· In 372-around t he time thac the young Augustine became committed to the secr-Valentinian p rohib ited the group fi·orn meeting~ in 382, Theoclosius ordered those found living in community ro be pur co death.J Unambiguously severe as this legislation was, its initial practical effeccs seem slight. As we know from Augustine, Fortunatus, and others, Roman Manichees co nt inued to travel and to function in t he open~ proselytizing and d ebaring. Manichees and cheir sympathizers couJd be found everywhere: in t he a rmy, among the wealthy in Rome itself, even within the clergy of the officially sanctioned church. Jr is true that in 386 a Spanish bisho p, Priscillian > was brough t up o n charges of Manichaeism and magic> and he was su bsequently executed by rh e stare. The incident, however, caused something of a scan dal. Local rivalries and factionalism seem to have had much more co do wich Priscillian's d emise than did rhe doctrinal irregularities of which he could co nveniencly and effeccively be accused. Buc his deach made a point: The possibi lity of p rosecution was real That fact seems to have been sufficient co discourage much active interest in Manichaeism o n t he parr o f the ar istocracy: It was more pruden r to commune with the church favo red by the e rnperors. Effective pe rsecud on lay over the horizon>in the fifrh and sixth cent uries when, with the weakening o f t he \Vestern Roman Empire, power pooled locally arou nd rhe figure o f che cacholic b ishop. Unlike che secular authorities, bishops scayed fo· cused on rhe hum for heretics.-! ?\'lani•s celestial twin had revealed to him that the a ncient battle between Good and Evil continued in rhe condition of rh e current world . Hoscage co che Kingdom of Darkness, panicles of light- che ac· rual substance o f the divine-were t ra pped in matter, and permeated t he physical cosmos. They collected and mingled in everything-stone, planes, animals> hum ans-and thus accounted for a un iversaJ co ndition o f su ffering. Collectively, these particles of captive godliness constit uted the divine presence in rhe cosmos, "rh e su ffe ring jesus" or the "Cross of Lighc." But through ascetic d iscipline, th is revelation continued >the light

10 8 · AUGUSTI NE ,\N'D THIO J I:WS

could be redeemed. This co nviction accounts fo r the Manichaean community's strucrure, ethics, and central ritual. Mani established a two-tier church. At its upper level was the spiritua1 elite, the "Elect'': men and women who had taken vows o f permanent celibacy, poverty, and extreme abstinence. Owning no property, mendicant, their vows requi red that they refrain from having anything whatever to d o with acquiring even the few foodstuffs permitted them: bread, vegetables, fruits. Gathering and preparing such food invariably caused pain to the plants that were harvested. The Elect could not compromise their moral purity to such a deg ree. The task of feeding the Elect thus fell to those in the church's second tier, the auditores, or "Hearers.'' These believers \vere not bound by such drastic vows. Once ada)', bo th groups would gather together fo r a symbiotic assembly ro co mmune fo r the sing le daily repast of the Elect. After shared psalms, worship, and the presentation of the meal, the audito rs retired, and the Elecr partook. Through their o\vn d igestion, they then "breathed o ut" and so liberated the light trap ped in rhis sacred food. The freed panicles of rhe Supreme Good, fo rmerly d ispersed, thus began their ascent, first collecting at the moon (whose phases evinced this process), then ascending to the sun, then passing, finally free, back to the Kingdom of Light, rhe realm of God the father ofjesus.; Augustine had been raised in a much more conventionally Christian culture. ''Sa1ted'' at birth as a catechumen, he had imbibed "the name o f Christ,"' as he later put it, wirh his mother's milk (Confosskms 1.11,17; J.4,8). Catholic rit uals, customs, and scriptures would have been familiar to him since childhood. Ironically, his catholic upbringing was precisely what prepared the way for Augustine's allegiance to Manichaeism. Augustine had arrived in Carthage shortly after the death of his father (Confessions 3-4,7)- With the financial su pport o f a wealthy home· rown pan·on, he plu nged inro a final cycle o f study before launching himself Into a remunerative legal career (3.3,6). He frequented theaters and prowled church services, looking for opportunities "to love and to be loved" (J.l1 t; 3,5). In this way, aged eighteen, Augustine entered in to a common-law marriage with a lower-class Christian g irl, who bore his

Thr Hrretic • 109

son, Adeodatus. And he pressed ahead with his legal studies, so that "rh e less honest I was, rhe more famo us J would be" (j.J,G). And th en, abruprly, everything changed . Augustine encoun tered Cicero's Hortemitts. He d iscovered philosophy. The book changed my feelings, altered my prayeo·s to you, 0 lord, and gave me a new pu rpose and ambition. Suddenly all rh e van icy I had hoped in (saw as worthless, and wirh incredibly 1mense des.re I longed for immonal wtsdom.... The book excited and inflamed me: in my ardot' rhe onI)' t hing I found Jacking was rhe name o f Chrisr. .. . Any book which lacked t his name, however well written or polished or true, could not emu·ely gl'ip me. COSF ESS IOSS _3 . 4 , 8

Turning from Cice ro, imbued with the resid ual piety of his upb ringing, Augustine next went directly to \vhat he thought would be t he repository of Christian wisdom, namely the scriptures. His vague fa miliarity with them (previously, he would have beard rh ese stories, not read them h imself) d id not prepare him for whar he fou nd. O lder now, trained ro study texts carefully and to appreciate beau tiful p rose, Augustine's new e ncounter unnerved him. He fo und read ing the Bible in tolerable. One problem was, quire simply, the way chat rh e words lay on the page. Anon)'mous rranslators had rendered the African Bible into clumsy Larin some cenruries ea.rHer, and its style was rough. lr g rated. ("lt seemed unworthy in comparison with the d igniry o f Cicero··~ Con·

fossiom 3-5,9·) \Vorse, hO\vever, were its contents. Augustine's reading of the 1-Jor· tensius had prompted h im to regard the q uest fo r God and quest for wisdo n11 ascetically a nd philosoph ically conceived, as essentially the same project. His Christian upbringing had prompted him to investi· gate r.he catholic scriprures, Old Testament and New, with this con· cern in mind. But the o ld Jewish narratives did not oblige his new sensibility. \Vhar did it mean, chat God "made" man? And what did it mean, to be in Gocl•s image? And how was one to understand the un· savory lives of the patriarchs, with cheir mu ltiple marriages and p ro·

lJO ·AUGUSTIN I! AN"l> TUll J llWS

lific progeny, their military e ngagements and their unending animal sacrifices? For that matter, why d id God require such ofi(rings? And th e New Testament presented different but equally grave problems. Its Latin was no better than t he Old Testamen t's, its con tencs no less rroubUng. The gospels d isagreed both internally and with each other. Their problems began immediately with the birth narratives themselves. Matthew and Luke, each cracingJesus' lineage, p resented mutually incompatible genealogies. Born and raised a Christian, Augustine knew that he wanted to remain a Christian. Newly awakened intellectually, he also knew t hat he could fi nd few satisfactions in th e sttperstitio of his mother's church. It was at ch is point that he encountered the Manichees. North Africa's Manichees offered a perfect solution to his quandar)'· They were Christian. ("The names of God t he Father and of the l o rd jesus Christ a nd of t he Ho i)' Spiri t . .. were alwa)'S o n t heir lips"; Confessions 3-4,10.) They had a n enlightened attitude toward religious inquiry. disavowing-unlike t he catholic church-arguments from autho rity. ("I fell among these people fo r no other reason,'' Augustine later claimed, "than that they declared that t hey would completely pur aside the intimidations of authority and instead, by pure and simple rational effort, bring to God anyone willing to hear them out"; Usejisbms ofBelief1,2.) The a us· terity of their Elect was impressive, while the ascetic co mmitmen ts of the sect resonated effortlessly \Vith Cicero's exhortatio n to Aee bodily pleasures in o rder to free the mind for h igher pursuits. And they read scripture both closely and critically, pointing out d iscrepancies (such as the d iffe rences between Matthew and Luke on jesus' genealogy) and proposing rational explanations (in this instance, that the doctrine of Incarnation was borh late an d wron~ Agaimt Faustus J.l). Susceptible to their a rguments, Augustine was impressed.') The tvlanichees probably fi rst engaged Augustine in che same way that Augustine Iacer, as a Manichee himself, engaged cath olic Christians: t hrough debate. In that context>pointing o ut various pro blems with both testaments, the Man ichees could press t heir prime theolog· ical p rinciple. God, they fi rmly maintained, is wholly and solely good. From ch is t hey moved co a reasonable axiom: The good God cannot in an),. way be a source of evil. More: Evil had to be extremely powerful, or

Tbt Herrtic ·

11 1

else God would obviously have overcome it. Thus, they concluded, evil must have an independenc existence, necessarily quite apart from t he good God. Evil actively resisted and defied God. Two opposed principles, they accordingly affi nned 1 not one sup reme principle, accounted fo r the morally m ixed u niverse a nd for man's difficult experience wit hin it. This dualist conviction informed both Manichaea n ascetic d iscipline a nd their script ural interpretation. The god of Genesis, th ey observed, had formed Aesh, making h umans '~in his image." But human Aesh clearly imposed u rges and appetites on the individual t hat betrayed its fundamental moral orientation: The Aeshly body was <'\•il. Paul himself had taugh t as much. " I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my fles h'' (Ro mans 7:18). It was on this account that t he .t\'1anichaea n regimen, especially for t he Elecc, denied and disciplined the body. Only Aesh purified t hrough extreme austerit)' could serve to liberate lig ht from matter, Good from Evil. These premises entailed furth er co nclusions, Christo logical, textual, and interpretive. Mani>s Christ. the son of the h igh god, could have no direct involvement in evil flesh: Chr ist had o nly Sl emed to have 7

Aesh b ut was never truly in a Aeshly body. The father of this docetic Christ, further, was not th e god of the O ld Testament. That deity, observed th e Manichees, was clearly not a good god. Not o nly had he framed chis flawed material un iverse and then1 against common sense a nd experience, called it "good," but he h imself behaved badly. Unstable, envious, needy, cruel: The Jews' god rook pleasure in rhe b lood of both men and beasts (Morals ofthe Gmrch 10 .16). Such a deity co uld not possibly be the father ofjesus a nd t he god of Pau l. Thus his Law had norhing ro do with the gospel, a nd he as the god of the Law had norhing to do with rhe god o f rhe gospel. Accordingly, t hen, the O ld Testament had nothing to d o either with th e New Testament o r with true Christianity. For this positionJ t he .tvlan ichees found an au thoritative spo kesman in t h e a poscle Paul. After all, Paul had spoken in all his letters o f the vital moral distinction between Law and gospel, \vorks a nd grace, flesh a nd spirit>jew and Gentile. Here t he Man ichees rrod th ose t heological pathways marked out in the m id-second century b); Mardon•s

lJl · AUOUST I NE AN O THE J EWS

churches, which had long regarded Paul as the champion of "true"thar is, de-j udai2ed-Christianiry. Indeed, their shared views of Paul seem to artest to actual contact and communication betwee n the two communities. Nor was this resemblance lost on orthodox critics, who condemned Manichaean doctrine with po lemics first honed against Marcion.1

Finally, all these posirio ns-on the high god, on the doceric Christ, on the intrinsic evil of the Aesh, on Paul's co re message-converged on a precise po lemical point. Jn articulating their own views, the Manichees repudiated jews and judaism. For this Christian church no less than for the o thers to which it opposed itself~ "'the Jews'~ served as

a defining "Other." Bur whar jews, and which judaism? That depended on the po lemical project at hand. In their criticisms of rhe Old Testament and irs morally unappealing deity, the tvlanichees disparaged ancient Jews from the patriarchs o nward. Multiple marriages, fugitive

couplings, busy procreation, a blood-drenched cult: Seen from the per· spective of these austere ascetics, the religion o f Israel was fool.ish~ car-

nal, and indeed sacrilegious (Usefulness of8elief6,t)). Bur co ntemporary society provided Roman Manichees with a closer>bigger, and much more important target for their anti-jewish polemic: catholic Ch ristians and their church. In the name of the gospel~ the Manichees observed, Christians ever)'where had freed themselves of circumcision, Sabbath o bservance, food taboos, and aiJ

the myriad Aeshly things that the Jews' god demanded of his followe rs. \X'hy on earth, then, rerain rhe carnal jewish book? If the church is

the bride of Christ, she should be pure. But the catholic church had broken her vows. Unfaithful, she cherished letters and gifts (that is, these scripntres and their pro mises) from a lover who corrupted her

chastity- namely, the god of the jews.' This god had seduced the catholic church with his vai n pledges ("in his stone tablets he promises you gold and silver and abundance of food and the land of Canaan"). Bur the case was clear, the options mutually exclusive. One co uld accept the message either of the Old

Testament (as the Jews had done and continued to do) or of the Gospel (as the Manichees had done). To accept both, as catholic Christians did, was a sel f-indicting admission of failure. "You receive both

Tbt' Heretic • IIJ

beca use you a re only half-filled with each," observed Faustus, one of the Ma nichaean Elecr an d an o ld reacher of Augustine's. ···But the one is not completed but corrupted by t he other" (Agaimt Famtus lj.t). Nor only were such "goods'' as these-food~ material securi l)'> land-low and unspiritual in th emselves. T hey were self-evidently be· yond rh e power of this god to deliver. His promises were false, h is pow· ers broken. Faustus pressed this point by alluding to the Jews' losses in t heir wars with Rome centuries earlier: This god is impoverished and needy. He can nor pt·ovide whar he has pi'Omised. He can nor even give t hese rhings ro che synagogue> hts proper wife, who obeys him in aU things like a maidsel'vanr. \\/hat chance is there of his delivering them to you, srrangers ro him who have proudly rhrown off rhe yoke of his command· mencs? . . . Go ahead then. Srirch old dorh onto a new garment. Puc new wine in old hordes. Senre rwo masters with om pleasing either (Matthew 9:16-•7). Make Christianicy a hybrid monsrer, a cemaur neither hol'se nor human. Bur>please, leave us to serve Christ only) comem as his spouse wich rhe immoi'Cal dowry that he has given us, in imitation of the Apostle Paul who said, ('Our sufficiency is from God, who has made us able mtnisters of t he New Tesrament" (2 Corinthians n). .U:i At.....ST FAU.S'Tt.'S 1).1

Catholic Christians, Fausrus readily acknowledged, did nor live ac· cording ro Jewish Law. But in retaining che texts of jewish Law, he complained, catholics srill act and rhink as t he Jews o nce had a nd still do. They) like the Jews, venerate the Old Testament) worship its god> and crust in h is promises. The results were corrupting and carnal, for catholics interpreted even t he Christian nl)•'Steries-che coming of Christ> his resurrection, t he resurrection o f believers> final redemp· tion- in a Aeshly manner. Ca tholics held t hat Christ had been born in a Aeshly body and that he had died and been raised in this same flesh!)' body. Many believed t hat when the ki ngdom came, t hey too would be raised in rhe Aesh, and t hat th ey would celebrate with a miJie nnium o f feasting together with Christ in t he New jerusalem. Jn the mean t ime>

114 ·AUGUST IN I! AN"l> TUll J EWS

rhey regarded marriage as honorable and sexual procreation as its goal and purpose. And they not o nly permitted the consumption of wine and meat~ thev also feasted o n such carnal foods over rhe graves of ' martyrs and in celebration of the dead. In brief, catholic Christiansmisled and encouraged, no doubt, by their attachment to the j ews· books-were themselves mired in the Aesh.9

-

By contrast, said the Manichees, their own holy books were untainted by association with Jewish scriptures} their Christianiry u nrouched by such carnal sensibilities. 1\' Ch rist every day, restoring his scactered light back ro rhe kingdom of his father. The ligh t trapped in their own bodies and in rhe flesh of all orher per· sons and things would evemually be liberared roo: How could such a redemption be imagined as a "resurrection of the Aesh:o·'? Jn the meantime, even their auditors lived with resnaint; if sexually active wirhin marriage} they at least avoided procreation.tO The beliefs and activities of catholic Christians, thev , further asserted, had been u nambiguously condemned by Paul the Apostle of Jesus Christ, and definitively superseded by the revelations of Mani the Apostle ofJesus Christ. Yet still the catho lics refused to listen. In rheir continuing blindness to Manichaean rrurh, their promiscuous retentio n of the jewish books, and their own obdurate Aeshliness, catholic Christians were thus not merely "like" jews. Jn all the ways chat mattered most-in the interpretation and living out of Christian rruth-rhese people u1er~ Jews. Thus Secundinus, a Ro man auditor and former companion of Augustine's, mou rned when he heard of his o ld friend~s defection to the catholic church. "You have gone over," lamented Secu ndinus, "to the barbarous tribe of the Jews" (Let· ter ofSeamdinus to Attgustine J). •
Tb~

Here1ic · llJ

sent"; Cbnfossions J-7~12.) And while his new church's condemnation o f sexual activity and o f procreation must have been awkward fo r the domesticaJiy attached new father1 he knew t hat. as an auditor, he was excused. FurrherJ his second-grade status within the sect also per· min ed Augustine ro press o n wit h his rhetorical education and his plans for a career. ("I remained in rhe grade they caiJ ' hearers• so that I might not g ive up world!)' ho pes and duties,'' he Iacer wrote; Usrfulnm ofBelieft,2.) Finally, and no less important, if Augustine's continuing domestic sexual arrangement and his pursuit o f pro fessional success-both disparaged no less by the philosophical ideal chan by his new ch urchcaused him to feel anxious or compromised o r guilty. he co uld li nd solace in a prime Manichaean ethical teaching. The individ ual repli· cared in m iniature rhe cosmic barrie between Good and Evil that raged t hroughout the entire '"'·orld. His moral faili ngs measured the strength o f the forces of Darkness working within him-''the law of rny members," as Paul had caugh t, "at war with the law of my mind .. (Romans T 2J). For over a decade Augustine would believe that he himself did not sin bur rather thar some o ther, fo reign, evil nature sinned within him. He took comfort in the thought (Confossi<ms j.to,t8). Meanwhile, he flouris hed, not lease of all (as Augustine himsel f acknowledged) because his new com munity provided him with a theater fo r his growing rhetorical skills. "1 was almost always noxiously victorious arguing against ignoran t Christians who attempted to defend t heir fuit h .. .. lSJo I gained an enthusiasm fo r religious disputation, and fro m this, I daily grew to love the .Manichees more and more.. (The TttJO Souls 9.11). He proselyrized, persuading others of his circle to join

his new church (Confessions 4. 1,1). And he was also sustained by the bond of membership in a small and intimate communit~·. ln Carthage> he could experience intimate daily contact with the Elect, together with other auditors providing al ms and participating in rheir impres· sive liturgy. He had che solidarity and discipline o f weekly Sunda)' fasts. And he co uld co un t on the social, moral, and materiaJ support o f this small fraternity everywhere, whether in Africa or, years larer, in lraJy.u

•••

U6 · AU
suFFEns the fate of n umbering a mong history's losers. After taking root and endu ring in vastly varied and often hostile cuirural settings fo r over a rhousand years, ir van ished. \Ve make its ac!l.t.\N JCf-JAE JSM

quaintance usually through the polemics a nd rid icule of its greatest \Vestern critic, Augustine. Its own texts-ma ny recovered o nly in the last cenw ry-can seem exotic and o bscure because their message is so unfamiliar, and our own sympathies have been so contoured by its opponents. For all these reasons, we can have difficulty a ppreciating what ir v.
The other fu nda mental issue addressed by Manichaean readings of the Old Testament was the problem o f conceiving god intellectually. Exploiting the many a nthro po morphisms of t he Bib le, d isallowing a ny scope for figu ral readings ofjewish rexts, rhe Manichees easily ridiculed rh e idea of deity existing in man•s image {hence their jibe abou t God's finge rnails and hair in Confessions 3·7•'2• cited on p. l05 above). And b)' insisting o n physical resemblance as the meaning of "made in the image of God" (Genesis 1:16-28), the Manichees had a n additional argument fo r decoupling the god of Genesis from t he god

o f jesus, Paul. and tvlani. Humanity was jusr too physically variousdifferent genders, d iffe rent races-and the p rocesses of sexuaJ p rocrea tion too demeaning for God to have fra med flesh at all, much less to ha\'e made ir "in his own image."' The quesnon ts nor, Does God make man? bur rarher, Whar man does God make, and when, and how? For if God formed us according co his own image when we at•e fashioned in the womba belief that Gemiles (i.e., pagansJ, Jews, and you (catholics! aU share-chen God t•nakes the 'old man: produdng him through }usc and frenzy. This is hardly in keeping wich divine narure. Bur if God forms us once we believe and \1/e rum roward a berret·life . . . chen God makes us \1eo.o/ men, producing us in honor and puriry. This is rhe reaching rhar coheres wirh his sacred and venerable majesty. . . . The birch by whtch \1/e are made male and female, Greeks and jews, Scyrhians and barbarians, is nor the birch through which God forms humanity. .. . Man is made by God nor when he is divided inro many, but when from many he becomes one. Divers icy comes from rhe llrsr birch, which is bodily. Oneness comes through second btrrh, discerni ng and indeed divin e.

Faustus a rgues h is case here by summoning the dichoromies o f Jo hn's gospel and Paul's letters-first birth a nd second (John n-6), o ld nature a nd new (Ephesians 4:22-24), in ner and o uter man (2 Corinthian s 4:16), spir it and flesh (Galatians p6-18). He also leans o n commonplace contrasts that stem ultimately from Platonic philosophy. Thus when compar ing the u nity of baptism \virh the variery o f physical birth (male and female, Greeks an d Jews, Scyth ians and barbarians; Colossians 3:9-1 1~ Galat ians _3:28), he evokes the "one'• and the "many.~ "Oneness" in Platonism codes supreme d ivinity; "multip lic-

ity" codes lower levels of being. And wh en Fausrus compares rhe sanctity of spiriruaJ rebirch co ···che hu miJiaring process o f o rd inary generation" (acco mplished, he remarks, through "intemperate fre nzy) disgusting and shameful begetting, a nd t he satisfaction o f lust''), he characterizes rhis seco nd birth as inte!Jigibile ac diviiJa. I translated this Latin phrase as "d iscerning a nd divine." " lnrelli-

118 • AUOUSTISE ANI> THl! JEWS

gible" as a tyf"' of Platonic shorthand would have indicated that this "second birth'' relates to the mind, not to the fles h. The adjective modifies the noun birth in such a way that this birch relates to rational mental func tions like understanding or thinking, as opposed to p hysical characteristics (sext ethnicity) social status, a nd so o n). In short, Faustus aHudes here to the t raditionally Platonic djstinction berween lower things ap prehended through the senses (hence "sensib le" reality) and higher things apprehended th rough the mind ("intelligible" reality). In rheir native philosophical contexr) these tenns expressed as well a concrasr in modes of being! "imma terial" as opposed to "material.·· "In telligible'' in a classically Platonic sense denoted "spiritual," utterly incorporeal, \\~thout ph)'Sical d imension. Intelligible realiries-thoughrs, fo r instance-have no e.'\: tension in space. This aspect of th e old Platonic definition ofimmaterialicy, hO\vever, Faustus \vould emphatically reject. "Jntelligible'' fo r him did not mean "withou t body." Rath er, it indica ted a moral orientation, not a mode of being: What was "intelligible•' was "good." For t he Manichees, there was no such th ing as incorporeal reality. All being was embod ied being. Jn och er words, the Man ichees were ma terialisL They t hought of divin ity-indeed, of all reality-as physical substance. "God" a nd "'spirit'' and .. light'' were very refined matter; "evil,'' "flesh,'' and "darkness" were grosser sorts of matter. But everyth ing was matter. l\'lanichaeisn"l in all its dimensions-its view of God and of Evil, its ideas a bout t he u niverse and its o rigins, irs concept of redemption 1 its ritual logic- relied fundamen tally upon this p rinciple t hat everything was macter of some sore. This commitment to materialism gave Man ichaean thought tremendous coherence an d explanatory power, especially when addressing che problem o f evil. God and the hu man soul) they caught, were in reality of one substance. {"1 thought that you 1 Lord God, \vere like a lu minous body of immense size, a nd that J myself was a bit of chac body''; Collfrssiom 4·•6,ji.) Similarly, evil was "a kind of material substance wirh its own foul and misshapen mass" (j.J0;20). Cosmic evil and moral evil were thus two instances of the same phenomenon: r.he incursion of th e wicked1 alien substance in to the good. \Vhar made man good was God in h im; what made man evil

Tbt>

1-li!I'Nic- • I 19

was Evil in him, represented especiall)' in and by che intrinsic wickedness of his Aesh. For this last reason especially, ch e Manichaea n Christ was docetic, o nly "appearing" to have been embodied. He could not possibl)' be irnagined as truly incarnate. Such an intimate co mbination o f t\VO substan ces as elevaced as Divine Light and as base and corrupt as Evil Darkness would have compromised the very idea of Christ as God. '' I was afraid to believe him incarnate/" Augustine later wroce, "lest I had to believe him to be defiled by the flesh" (j.t0,20). Conceiving of good (thus God) and evil as particulate substantial realities meant, fi nally, chat Augustine the Manichee had an explan ation not o nly fo r the o pe ration and effects of evil but also-pe rhaps even more importanc-for the origin of evil. Evil as an experience was curiously but compellingly de-personalized. When a person did evil (that is, when he sinned), in many ways the sin had little or nothing to do wirh h im: Evil simply acted through h irn as a dark, invasive1 andessentially alien nature. In this regard, hu man experience corresponded exacdy to God's experience: He too, a nd his realm, had been invaded in precosmic times by th is dark fo rce. Evil was its own enticy, totall)' independent o f and co-eternal with God. \Vhere had ic come fro m? Why had it come? To such questio ns the Manichees responded: Evil simply tVas. Evil d!tva)'' was. Evi~ like God, had no origin. Thus despite their o bvious resonances wich earlier Valentinian and Marcio nite systems of th ought, these Manichaean views o n divinity, cosmology, and evil were rn uch more radical Those earlier fo rms o f Christianity had retained two of ch e prime ideas of Platonic paideia. Both rested on the concept of nonmaterial being, and both held to the principle that "being"-whether material or nonmaterial- was o rganized by hierarchical grades. These two ideas, incorpo realit)' an d order, enabled both Christian systems to retain their native pagan p hilosoph ical monotheism. For each, the high god presided in a ustere isolation at the very p in nacle of spirit ual reality, while, on a plane o f being F.tr below, the Jewish demiu rge busily and ignora ntly organ ized matter. And this lower deity was himself co ntingent for his own existence (though he d id not know this) o n the distant Father. VaJentinus and ~
120 · AUGUSTI NE ,\N'D THIO J I: WS

standing (Dittlogue rvith Trypbo 56). He too subord inated the god who organized matter-for him, the pre-incarnate Christ- to the changeless1 transcendent high god, just as "son" is subordinate ro "father," and Logos to duos. justin accord ingly shifted rhe role of cosmic anragonist, the opponent of Christ and of the high god his fathe r, fro m the god of Genesis (whom Valentin us and Marcion had indicted) to the fallen angel Satan and his minions, whose status as rebeh declared their subordinate rank. The graded hierarchies of all these Christian thinkers thus ensured the monotheism of their respective systems. Manichaean materialism, by conn·ast, expressed a true dualism: God and the Prince of Darkness were each masters of differen t, unequal, but o mo logically equivalent kingdoms. Both had existed from eternity. Such a radical dualism had the undeniable virtue of utterly insulating God from any responsibility for Evil. And, absent a concept of spir it1 no principle of hierarchy could organize their relationship. If God in this materialist system were ro be regarded as absolutely supreme, then he would have had to have created evil o r to be somehow complicit in its operation-a thought, Augustine observes, that his piety simply forbade him to think. Forced to choose between God•s good ness and Gocl•s omnipotence, Augustine the Manichee relinquished d ivine o mniporence 1 and so preserved God's moral integrity: God does only good. And this con· viction, coupled with his an th ropomorphic understanding of rhe O ld Testament's representation of God 1 required him to rejecc the jewish scriptures1 most especiaJiy rhe Book of Genesis, as \veil. "I felr it more reverent to believe that you were infinite in all respects but one, namely with respect to that mass of evil opposed to you, than to think that you were confined within the shape of the h uman body. I thought it better to believe that you had created no evil ... than to believe that evil, as I understood it, came from you" (Confessions 5.l0,10). In the Cotifessiom., writing with rhe clarity of retrospect, Augustine identified this philosophical idea ("1 d id not think that anything ex· isted that was not materiaJ") as "the principaJ and almost sole cause of my inevitable erro r" (Confessions ) .10,19). He oversimplifies here. His attraction to and dependence o n these rnaterialisr views was lin ked to and fueled by the urgency he fel t in the face of the problem of evil. "I

Tb~

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121

had no clear and explicit g rasp o f the cause of evil" (7-3,5). "I searched for ch e origin of evil, but in a flawed way~ an d I d id not see che flaw in my search" (7.5,7). The god of more conventional fo rms of Christianity at che very lease was willing to tolerate the operation of evil in his creation. Bur if he were all good and all powerful, whence this tolerance? By contrast, the Manichaean myth of the battle between two eternally o pposed powers, imagined materially, fi rewalled their high god from any relationship, whether causal o r contingent, with the independent dark force that he and h is followe rs co mbared. In consequence, then, as Augustine's confidence in the Manichees1 d ualist and n"'aterialist explanations slowly eroded and finally, in l\·filan, gave way, their question) Unde malu.m? (\X'hence and why e\•il?}, \VaKed increasingly acuce.

6 • THE SOJOU RN ER

So I cdme to Milan, to Ambro.se1 the bishop. •\UUUST INE, CONI'liSSJ ONS 5· 13 , 2}

..W

atever his mounting d isquiet \lith his sect's theology, Augus-

tine continued as a Man ichce fo r as lo ng as he remained in Carthage. Still chasing after professio nal advancement, he eventually quit h is municipal professorship there in 383 a nd moved to Rome. Constantius, a wealth)' astditore>received him, housed him1 and p rovided fo r h im when, on arrival, Augustine fell desperately ill (Confrssiom 5-9,t6tO,t8). Despite wh atever doubts he m ight h ave had at t his time (difficult to gauge, since retrospect and hostility shape his description of t his period in the Confossitms), Augusti ne contin ued to cultivate h is Manichaean connectio ns once he was in Italy."'[ was in more in timare frie ndship with rhem than with ochers who \vere not in that heresy" {_;.tO,t9)His efforts paid off handsomely the following summer. The city of ~~ti lan, attempting to recruit a professor of rhetoric, had asked th e Roman u rban p refect Symmachus ro make the appoin tment. Symmachus was an aristocrat and a pagan. Augustine's Manichaean network brought him to Symmachus' attemion. \Vhatever Augustine's personal merit, t he fact that he was a Ch ristian heretic doubtless enhanced h is a pplicatio n. Earlier in this same rear 1 Symmachus had petitioned the Christian empero r Valentinian to permit th e reinstit u· cion o f one o f Rome's most venerable civic cults1 centered on the Altar of Victory in the Senate. Milan's bishop, Am brose, had objected vigor ously and successfully, blocking this pagan effort. Sending a Manichee to occupy the tvtilan ese mun icipaJ chair m ight well irritate the bishop-or so Symmachus probably hoped.' Durin g his unhappy period in Rorne1 and for a time after his ar 4

4

Tht• SOJOIIrntr · UJ

rival in ~·ti lan {the a utumn of 384), Augustine o nce again read philoso ph)'· This time: it ·was the: skepticism o f che Ne\v Academy that ca ught his a ttention. "They taught char everything was a matter of doubt, and that understanding the tru th lies beyond hu man capacity" (Ctmfessiom 5·9,J?). As with his reading of the Hortensius over a decade earlier in Carthage, so once again wirh his smdy o f t hese philosoph ers now: They too "were with out Ch rist's saving name/' and Augustine would nor o r co uld not commit to a non-Christian parh. The absen ce: of an established lvlanich aean community in Milan seems aJso to have accelerated h is growing detachment fro m the sect. Neverrhd es.s, his intellectual dependence o n materialism co ntinued, affecting his view o f the world, o f himself, and of the Bib le. " If I had been able ro conceive a spirit ual substan ce, at o nce all their imagined inventions would have collapsed and my m ind would have rejected them. But I could not" (j.4,24). Desire fo r p ro fessional success, meanwhile, drove him o nward. Augustine's advancement depended o n his securi ng powerful patro ns, an d the co n fused political context of the rh irteen-year-o ld boyemperor's court made t he search for such connections d ifficult and disheartening. Meanwhile, in the spring o f 385, Monnica arrived from North Africa to assist (or direct) her son's efforts. Her p resence) his disappointment wit h rh e .tvfan ichees, t he gravitational pull of h is childhood spent in Monnica 's ch urch, and his professional am bition together \virh a certain pragmatism {the e:cclesiasricaJ o rientation o f the court was well knmvn) perhaps combined to p ro pel Augustine to enro ll as a catechumen in the cat holic chu rch . This tepid gesture committed h im to no timetab le fo r baptism (Co11Jesswns ) .14,24). Insecure, uncomfo rtably aware of h is Afi·ican accentt a rdently ambit ious, unexpecredly u n moored, Augusrine drifted.' By t he late fourth century) rh e city o f Ro me was no longer t he real cap ital of t he Ro man Empire. tvlilirary necessity required western emperors with their courts a nd their armies to reside in cities closer to t he po rous northern borders. Milan,jusr south o f the Alps, was o ne o f t hese garrison-capit als, replete with the wealt h, t he energy1 a nd t he talent rhat concentrations of political and military power can gat her. In t he m id-380s1 it was also a cultu ral powerhouse1 ar the height of a re-

124 ·AUGUSTINE ,\N'D THIO JE\VS

nascence of Plaronic studies. Erudite Milanese, both pagan and Chris-

ciao, sponsored salo ns and reading g roups dedicated to the study of Neoplatonic philosophy. Ambrose, the city's aristocratic bishop, en· riched his sermons by borrowing nor o nly from these late pagan works bu t a lso fro m philosophically sophisticated Greek patristic writ ings as well as from the exegeses o f the Hellenistic Jew Philo of Alexandria. Floating between the reading g roups and the church>Augustine thus received a double dose o f late Platonism, the pagan stream through the salons, the Christianized scream through Ambrose. Traditional Platonism had always emphasized the su periority of eternal to tempo ral, of spiri t to matter, of mind to body, of the O ne ro the many. In the third cenmry c.e., Plotinus and his disciple Porphyry conformed the "upper·wotidliness'' of earlier Platonism to a new em· phasis on "inner-worldliness." Like older Plato nisrs, these Neoplaton· ists asserted the ontological reality of intellectual abstractions (Mind, Soul, !deal Forms, and so o n). But by conceiving such '""'Is of being as arranged in an o rder!)' hierarchy while insisting on a metaphysical lin kage between the ind ividual soul and these higher levels o f the spir· itual realm, Neoplatonists reconceprualized the way to know God: not only Look Up bur also (indeed , especially) Look ln. In short, these pagan p hilosophers developed a new lan guage of introspection. The path to the One lay within the mind a nd thus t he soul o f the individ ual By withdrawing fro m the distraccing world o f the senses, by training the mind in disciplined int rospection, the p hilosopher could attain the happy life, defined as kno\\1ng God. The tr ue goal of philosophy was the return of the soul to the divine One.3 Traditional Mediterranean piery had been the native matrix of Neopla tonism. Plotinus' and Porphyry's philosophical monotheism cohabited wit h their ancestral polytheism, and indeed most (nor all) ph ilosophers generally advocated piety toward the gods a nd t heir rites. Christian t heologian s had long availed themselves o f Pla tonism in its various stages, while leaving its native paganism behind. And behind these Christian ventures stood the work of the Jewish philosopher Philo, whose first-ce nrury philosophical commentaries o n the Septuagint had blazed the t rail fo r later Christian theologians, who both preserved and a ppropriated h is work. 11uough Latin translations of the pagan wricings and through

The SOJOUrner · 125

An1brose's homilies-a c reative mix of all of these sources, late paga n) Greek Christian> and Hellenistic jewish-Augustine began his encounter wich chis g rear p hilosophical panimony. In books six and seven of che Confession~ looking back some twelve years to chis period> he vividly recoun ted the d ra matic effects of t his sudden immersion in Milan•s cosmopolitan Christian culture. Listening to Ambrose) Augustine lea rned for the first time to th ink abou t the Old Testament allegorically or symbolically; secundum spiritum, with spir icual understanding. Bib lical passages of seemingly intraccable ca rnality, such as God's making man in his image, now yielded shin ing new trut hs. The divine "image" according to which God made Adam refe rred not to the body, Augustine now understood> but to the soul. God 1s image Ia)' in t he m ind, whose in tellectual processes, like t he divinity whom rhe),. reflected, were urterly immateriaL Thought has no spatial extension; neit h er did rhe inco rporeal God. Slowly, as Au gus cine assimilated Amb rose's .sermons, Ma nichaean materialism began to fall away. I was delighted ro heat· Ambi'Ose in his sermons ro rhe people s.aring, as if he were enunciating a principle of exegesis: "The Jwe~· kills, bur rhe spirir gi\•es life" [2 Corimhtans 3:6]. Those rexts which, taken lirerally, seemed ro conrmn pen'erse reachings) he would expound spirirually> drawing aside the mystical veiL ... Fearing a precipirate plunge, I kepr my hean from giving assem . . . . Bur from rhi.s rime on I gave nl}' preference ro [he carholic fili rh. CONFESSIONS

6.4,6 -5,7

Scripture's humble sryle, which had o ffended his eighteen-ye<>ro ld self, Augustine now saw as part of God's providential plan. Irs seeming simplicity reach ed our to t he uneducated many, while its obscUI·ities enticed the interpretive skills of the learned few. "The absurdity which used to offend me in those books . . . 1 now understood to signify t he profundity of t heir mysteries" (Confossitms 6,s,8). Read in the ligh t of Ambrosian allegory, rhe o ld Jewish texts revealed Christ a nd h is chu rch. The Manichees had it all wrong: The Old Testament, understood spiri tually, really was a Ch riscian book. Pagan metaphysics, meanwhile, began to djssolve the seeming rea-

126 · AUCiOSTII'-t! ANO TUI! J l!WS

sonableness of d ualism as an explan ation for the p roblem of evil. As he struggled co grasp th e concept of non material be ing, Augustine was able to affirm other characteristics o f the divine. The ancient feat ures of philosophical paideia's high god-perfect, immaterial, immut able, radically sta ble-began to meld with those of rhe b iblical deity. "Wirh all my h earr I believed you [God] robe incorruprible, free from injury, and unchangeable" (Conforsions 7-t,t). To affi rm God's immurabiliry, however, was to deny the old Ma nichaean e." planation fo r rhe o rigins of cosmic evil, namely, that an a utonomous Kingdom of Darkness had invaded Lighr's domain and raken caprive particles of rhe good, which now lay scattered within ic. lf God were immutable, he co uld not be subject ro invasion. Where, then, did evil come fro m? La te Placonists conceived this q uestion completel)' d iffe rently from t he ways char Augusrine could , as he lingered in t he twiligh r of h is Manichaean phase. Wedded as he was to materialist vie\vs, Augusrine though r of evil (as he rhoughr o f all orher caregories of be ing, in· elud ing divinity) as some tbing. Bu t for the Platonist, evil, because a defecr., was no thing. That is, evil d id not actually exist1 in the same way that da1·kness and silence do not "e.xist." Dark ness is the absence of light. Silence is the absence o f sound. Thus evil, too, is not a t hing but a lack, nan1ely, an a bsence of good. God is the funda mental ca use of everything t hat is. He is not the ca use of t h ings that are not. This way o f fram ing the problem o f "''il had two applica rions, one cosmic, one moral. In terms of the cosmos, if aspects o f the nat ural universe seemed corrupt, t his very corruption measured an essential good ness because only what was good to start \llith could become less so. "Things which a re liable ro corruprion are good" (Confessions J.I2,J8). 1\nd looked ar from a long enough perspective, imperfections rhar jar close up acrually conrribute to the beau ty o f rhe whole. (ihis lasr, "god's-eye" argument a bout evil and cosmic aesthetics can also be traced back to Plaro.) In terms of morals, if rhe individ ual made a poor moral choice-in specificall)' biblical language, if he sin ned-the cause of his sin was not his being overwhelmed by the material manitestation o f a superior evil force. Rather, he sinned because of a poor use of h is will> choosing to rurn from a higher good (God being rhe h ig hest good) ro a lower good. \VIry an individual would choose a lesser good was a d ifferenr

Tht Sojou.rmr · 127

question. Perhaps he lacked t he intellectual t raining to perceive the higher good, o r t he self-discipline to regulate h imself in order to choose it. In terms of t he problem ofechical evil, however, t he main point made by Neoplatonism was that the cause of sin Ia)' wit hin the self. Thinking in this way ena bled Augustine to absolve the biblical crea tor god o f respo nsibilicy fo r evil. Indeed, co chink o f him as responsible for evil in any wa)' was not o nly impious bur patently absurd: No o ne, not even God, can "make,. noth ing (Confessions 7·13,19-20,16). Buoyed by h is progress, Augustine th en ''seized the sacred writings o f your Spirit and espedally the writings of the apostle Pau l..., He saw in a new way that the t\VO canons, O ld and New1 cohered bo th with each ocher and with his new p hilosophy. " I began reading and fo und rha r all t he rruth 1 had read in rhe Plaronisrs was sta red here (i.e., in the Bible! with rhe commendation of you r g race" (7.21,27). Neoplatonism also enabled Augustine to reco nceive th e moral status of mat ter. Though unquestionably infe rior co spirit, matter in t he Neoplatonist view could nonetheless be regarded as a product of t he O ne, a sorr o f crust that fo rmed ar the outermost extremes o f divin ity, hovering o n the cusp o f nonbeing. \XIichour co mpromise co h imself a nd co h is a bsolme goodness, then, God was che ultimate source o f matter. As for ethical evil o r sin it could not be a consequence o f man's being in rhe flesh. Accord ing to rhese p hilosophers, fles h did not cause sin because, meta physically, it could not cause sin. Soul was "above" flesh in the hierarchy of being. Wh at was "below" did not determine or control what was above it. Thus, though the flesh u nquestionably importuned the soul thro ugh che senses, giving way to such promptings was never a foregone co nclusion. Sin icself was a decisiotJ. And the decisio n to sin \Vas made in the mind. Jn och er words, sin was the prerogative of soul, not body. Flesh, fo r good and for ill, mere!)' o beyed the mind's d irection. As he thoughr wirh these new concepts, Augustine felr the inrellecrual knors chat had bound h im for so lo ng ro Manichaeism loosen a nd come undone. His new convictions led h irn to embrace the teach1

ings of Ambrose's church. At this po in t, he should have moved on to ba ptism. lnsread, he lingered as a carechumen. Why? Here a third consideratio n seems to have held Augustine back. He

128 • AUOUST I Nl! ANI> T I.. E JEWS

wanted baptism to come wit h a life-lo ng commitment to celibacy. He was thirty-t\vo years old. In the late fourth centu ry> when even most clergy were married, th e church made no requi rement of celibacy> and Augustine knew this: I was still strongly bound by th e des of woman. The Aposde did noc forbid me to marry, rhough he exhorted me co something better and WI'}' much wished rhat all men were unam1ched>as he hirnself was (1Col'im hians Tt-7). Buc I was weaker, and chose [he softer op[ion, and t his single rhing prevenred me f.'Orn deciding more finnly o n orhers, so ch ar I was weary and wasted \1/ith nagging anxtedes. COA'H !SSIONS 8. 1,l

Son1e of his later ecclesiasticaJ o pponents> cri ticizing Augustine for the wa)'S that he linked h is eventual teachings o n o riginal sin to h uman sexuality, accused him of never having really freed himself from Manichaeism. His scruples before his baptism might indeed seem like a residu um o f t he Manichaean ethic, which dearly had privileged sexual renunciation. But Augustine•s meta physics had changed> a nd his (albeit wavering) resolve now d rew from rhe same source as h is new metaphysics: p hilosophy. Ambrose presented such philosophy in C hristian form> che return of the soul ro God aided by comminnent to holy celibacy. Cicero and Plorin us, t he two pagan philosophers whose works had most affected Augustine> had both urged the man who would seek after wisd om to wit hdraw from t he distractions of the senses. Renouncing sexual activity-a path t hat Plod n us himself had elected to follow-certainly went F.tr toward meeting this goaJ.~ A variety o f Christia ns, for a variety o f reasons, h ad also taught the virtues o f sexual renunciation. This ideal had roots going back to the foundational days o f the movement. In the m id-fi rst cent ury of the common erat tOr example, in h is letter to his gentile commu nity at Corinch. Paul had given temperate instructions o n sexual d iscipline within 1n arriage. If o ne member o f the couple wanted to abstain for a period> Paul had no objection, though he ca utioned that extremes of abstinence might lead to sexual temptation. '' Do not refuse each other except

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perhaps fo r a season, so that you might devote yourself to prayer; but come together again, lesr Satan ten1pt you rh rough lack of self-co nn·ol.'' Nonetheless, Paul clearly regarded coral abstinence as the higher parh. ('I say th is by way of concession, not ofcommand. J wish that all were as I myself am," rhac is to say> celibate (1Corinthians 7:1-7). Continu ing o n rhis rh eme, Pa ul reminded his commun ity of the reason fo r his teachings. ''In view of the impending distress. it is well fo r a pe rson to remain as he is.. .. I mean. breth ren> t he appoin ted time has g rown ver)' shorr.. . . The fo rm of this wo rld is passing away" (1 Corinrhians 7'25-3 1). Sexual renunciation berrer prepared rhe believer fo r the arrival of God 's kingdom, as well as for endu ring the travails rhar migh r p reced e ir (the " impend ing distress" rhat Pau l invokes here). Paul expected his generatio n to see these events. Some decades later, the writer of rh e Gospel of tvfatthew an ributed a sim ilar teaching o n celibacy ro j esus: ' There are eunuchs who have bee n so from birth, and eunuchs who have been made eunuchs by men, and there are eunuchs tVbo have ttldde themselves etmu.chs for tbe sake of dJe kit1gdom ofheaven. He who is a ble co receive this. let him receive it" (tvfacrhew t9:u -r2). Whatever the marital starus of the historical jesus, larer evangelists certainly presented him as sing le and thus celibate. Also. some members o f a j udean communjty ro ughly contemporary with j esus, the EssenesJ had also renounced sexual activity. Common ro aJI of t hese ancienr Jews-the evangelist Matthew> rhe Essenes, Paul, jesus- was their passionate belief that rhe Kingdo m o f God really was at hand. This apocalyptic co nviction seems ro have undergirded a nd informed rheir commit ment to sexual celibacy.s As rime continued and as C hristianity in irs var ious forms setd ed in to the broader world of Greco-Roman cultu re. rh ese teachings aJso continuedJ and \vere continuously reinterpreted. Marcion's church read Pa ul as teaching against sexual acciviry as such, a nd so permitted baprism (rhus full membe rship in rhe co mmuniry) o nly ro those who committed ro celibacy. The vigor of h is church ("spread throughou t t he whole world," as o ne o f h is orthodox critics. centu ries later, grumb led) arrests ro how many people were willing to meet h is standard. In t he same period, j ustin Ma rtyr a pprovingly relates, a young Christian in Alexandria petitioned the governor fo r permission ro be castrated 1

ljO • AIJClUSTJSt! AND THE J l!WS

(Roman law prohibited t he procedure): T his man wanted to make himself one of heaven's eu nuchs (Fim Apo!OlJ' 29). For pagan see rs and sibyls no less than for Jewish prophers, abstaining from sex had long seemed an appropriate preparation fo r serving as a medium for divine spirit; Christian reachers and prophets who sought to be vessels of the Spirit endo rsed such ren unciation as well. In b rief) man)' d ifferent theological commim1ents supported behaviors thar, from t he outside) all looked very similar. Eventually) fro m the second century onward>sexual renunciants (such as widows as well as married parrners), virgins, and celibates-both male and fema1e 1 borh itinera nt and residentproliferated wit hin very varied Christian commun ities. Asceticism, a nd sexual asceticism in particular) was practiced by Ch ristians o f all stripes-much to their mut ual irritation.' Two specific develo pments within chis general cu lt ure of con6 nence marked rhe ideal o f celibacy in Augustine's place and time. The first is the early stirrings of organ ized commun ities of celibates, what will later become monasteries. In the E.asr> charismatic individual ascetics1rh e ancho rites of the Egyptian and the Syrian deserts, were co llecting in to commun ities. Pious tourists and temporary visito rs from t he \Vest visited rh ese people and places and circulated admiring stories back home. (Augustine speaks about t he effecr of hearing the sto ry of St. Anthony's conversion to desert asceticism while he struggled to make h is own commit ment to celibacy back in Milan; Confos· .
Second>a nd certainly no less impon:ant: In t he Iacer part o f the fou rth cent u ry, spurred especially b)' the politics and policies o f rhe catholic T heodosius, Ro man elites took a serious a nd p rudent interest in aligning th emselves wit h the empero r's church. To do so was sim ply a sensib le fi rst step toward advancing o ne's prospects in government service. These elites moved coward t he church with their pagan aristocratic sensibilities intact, and these would have an important effect on western styles of communal celibacy. Ro man u pper-crust sensibilities had long been shaped by read ing and studying the great literat ure and p hilosophy of the classical past. Reti rement from the world to improve the soul by reading elevating books thar exercised rhe mind: This was rh e aristocratic ethic of otium

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lib
1_32 • AUOUSTJNE ANO T HE JEWS

more pronounced elirisrn. Augustine co uld o nly reco il from what would seem like continu ing as a second-class member o f his chosen group, though now as a married catholic layman.8 Meanwhile, with Monn ica's active involvemenc, he worked all fronts. His common-law wife, an impediment to his social ascent, was sene back to Africa. At the same time, he contracted an advan tageous tnarriage to a catholic Milanese ari.srocra~ though he was forced to wait two years u ntil t he girl came of age. (She was p robably around ten years o ld a r th e time.) Finally, as an interim arrangement) he cook a mistress. This seemingly unremarkable development in fact rnortified him deeply, beca use it publicly gave the lie to his philosoph ical pretensions. The only reason to rake a mistress (as everyone knew) was fo r sex-an activity that the best and the brightest esche\ved (Confossiom 6.tj;lj- lj,2j).'

Living with such conflicts indefin itely was un beara ble. Ultimately, Augustine found che in ner strength to emerge from this exhausd ng impasse. By the end of the su mmer o f 386, h is study of"the books of the Platonists/) h is read ing the let ters of Paul1 and h is mounting d issatisfaction wich his pro fession co mbined to enable h im to make rhree decisions. He resolved to live a life of sexual continence. He resolved to receive baptism into the catholic church in Milan. And he resign ed h is professorship and thus h is secula r public life. These t hree decisions collectively define what traditio n- and Augustine himself-designates his "conversion."

••• book eight of the Con.fe.uiOIJS) composed some eleven years after these events, provides a perspective o n Augustine's life back in Milan t hat reflects h is theological growth d uring that lo ng interi m. The wri tings that date from t his period itself-the fall and winter o f 386, after Augustine had resign ed h is professorship, befo re he received baptism on Easter .387-offer interesting contrasts to his more famous self-portrait. Thanks to the loan o f a countl')' estate from a weaJrhy co lJeague in .Milan. Augustine temporarily realized h is goal o f living a life of orim11 liberale. Together with his mother, his brother, his teenage son, t\vo ado lescent srudents, and .severaJ scribes THE ELABORATELY \\'RIT T EN

The Sojounw· · 133

{notm·ii} to assist h is literary effo rts, Augusd ne passed the winter reading, teach ing, and writing a t Cassiciacum . in the foothills o f the Alps. His goal was specifically Christian: ro seek for God rh rough contemplative ascericism b)' relying on fairh, hope, and charity (On Order 2.8,25). T he mode of his search, however, had a long an d d istinguished classical pedigree. Augustine wrote fou r trea tises over this winter, which he ded icated to learned and socially prominent gentlemen in h is old reading g roups back in Milan. In the first, Agaimt the Academics, he provided a description of h is decision to join rhe church. He reports thar, t rembling, he snatched u p the writings o f Paul, with the result that "ph ilosophy's countenance 1 howsoever d im that light th at was cast upon it, was revealed to me" (Again.
134 • AUGUSTJSl! AND THf! JEWS

scripture that had p rovided him, finally, \\Oth intellectually compe lling answers to the challenges o f Manichaean d ualism. cosmology. and th eodicy. In this period of retirement in 386, reading philosophy and scripture cogether, Augustine strengthened h is grasp o n his new way of t h in king and undertook h is lifelong project of reading deeply in Christian scriptures, both Old Testament and New. Scripru ral and ecclesiastical language event uaUy grow more prominent in his writings, especially after his baptism and h is return from Italy
...

to Africa al most two years after receiving bap tism fro m Ambrose. Mo nn ica's d eath and t he disruptions o f Roman power politics had delayed his return. Together with h is son, Adeoda· rus! and h is frie nd Alypius, he was g reeted and warmly received by catholics in Carthage. Event ually, h is small party made its way inland ro Thagaste 1 their hometown . Augustine in tended co live as a celibate la)'man on his family's la nd, a pproxima ting ch e experience of otimn chat he had left behind ar Cassiciacum. 10 Brief trea tises cont inued to flow fro m h irn: on liberal arts (Music))

AUGUSTINE CAM f! UACK

on the soul (The SmJs lmmott.1lit;; T1Je Soul's Grratness), and an oblique treatment of the problem o f evil, the first book o f Ft?e \Viii. Two frontal assaults on the Manichees also appeared: MatJidMMn Mon1lsl a companion volume to Morals of the Church> written while srill in Italy; and On Genesi.s, agaimt thf! Manichees, in two books, completed o nce back in Africa. T hough he had reversed sides in the six years since quit· ring Carthage for Ro me, Augustine che rhetorician o nce again found h is voice as a polemicist. The companion volumes on catholic a nd Man ichaean "morals" {t hat is, "\l'll)'S" or "lifestyles'') are a sharply worded reprise of many of the talking points made more suavely in the Cas.siciacum writings. Au gustine's polemical co mmentary on Genesis, by contras~ is norew01·· thy fo r several reasons. Firsc, as a n interpretation of the biblical c reation account1 the commenta ry is almost unrelievedly allegorical. The story of Adam and Eve> fo r exa n1ple1 Augustine noces> may be un-

Th~

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derstood either "carnally" or "spir ituall)'" (Gene.-is aga.imt the Manicbees 1.191JO}. The Manichees had erred b)' insisting that the story's meaning was "carnal," irs idea of God anthropomorphic. Against such a reading} Augustine expands on the text's spir irual meaning) decoding "Adam'' as the higher, rarionaJ part of the soul, "Eve" as the higher soul's helpmeet, the lower soul, and so on (1-.U,ljff). The co mmentary evinces the impact o f listening to Ambrose's sermons back in Milan. This work sounds much more like Philo o f Alexandria's first-century commentary o n the same text than it does Augusti ne's own writings o n Genesis that follow a few vears later. ' Noteworthy too is Augustine's use of another rraditional interpretive trope. He correlates the seven days of the bibtical week of creation to seven world-historical periods: the span from Adam to the second co ming of Christ are history's six "workingn days; the seventh "day" is the "Sabbath rest" of Christ and his saints. And he also COIT
A·1anidJees L22~35-15,43). This sort of macrocosm/ microcosm framework, applying stages of salvation ro both glo bal and individual processes, will loom large when he tu rns his atten tion> a few years later, to a close reading of Paul's letter to the Romans. At that point, he will wring o riginal rheological insights o ut o f his adaptation of rhis scheme.11 Finally, and most remarkably, rhis commentary hints at Augustine•s-impatience? dissatisfaction?-with predominantly aJiegorical o r figurative or ''spirirual'' approaches co scripture. Jn book o ne o f Genesis ag(Jinst tbe Manicbees>he inrerpreted God's activity both "histo rically" and "prophetically." (These are his rerms.) Bur Augustine's "historical~' understanding was aJso figurative. That is, he took Genesis as a descriptio n of God's actio ns in the past (hence the text's "hisrorical'' dimension); bur the meaning of those past actions, he said, was "spiritual" Thus, as he states here, the "image of God" in man refers to man's soul, not to his physical appearance. And, relating the seven days of creation in Genesis to the stages of a universal salvation history, Augustine deems this cosmic '' week'• to be "prophetic'' because

1_3,6 • AUGUST I N I! AN"l> Tl-tl! J EWS

its culmination- the se:venrh age o f redemption, the cosmic Sabbathla)' off in the fu t ure. j usr a t the beginning o f book two1 however1 im rnediare:ly before embarking on a n equally figu ra tive retelling of rhe story of Adam, Eve, and the serpent, Augustine interjects: History (seetmdum bistoriam) nan·ates past evenrs: prophec)' (secundum propbt•liAm) foretells furure ones. Of course, if someone wamed ro take hre:raJI}' (sc>cmuium littN'am) everything J'ecounced he1·e-chat is, ro un derstand nothing whatever other t han whar rhe \Vords themselves say (non alitt:'r intel!igere quam lrtA>t'a smJat)and if he could do so while avoiding blasphemy and conforming ro eveJ'}'t hing rhar catholic faith reach es, he should meet not wirh hosriliry, bur rather wirh praise for being an excellent imerpretfr.

What did Augustine mean by reading t he Bible in order to under· stand "nothing other than whar the words say'? Wha t does he mean by "accord ing co rh e letter," which I translated above as '(lirerally"? And how does such a reading relate to understanding events histori· cally (secundum bistoridm, "according to history") o r prophetica lly (se· ctmdmn prophetiam, "according ro p ro phecy")? At t he end of his life, reviewing all his writings chronologica lly, Augustine evaluated this period of his work in his Rett-actations. Criticizing his own failed effort a t inrerpreting Genesis "literally" t hat he had attempted in 393, four years after h is commentary againsr the Manichees. he expanded on t his expression ,ul/itteram. He had wan ted , said t he aged Augustine, to understand Genesis secundum bistoricam proprietaWm: "according to its histo rical character"' (RetractaJions l.l8, on Unfinished Liter.U Commentar;y

on Genesis). This p hrase implies someth ing different from just a narrat ive of past events. Augustine had al ready design ared rhat idea by the phrase "according to hiscory/' which J transla ted in the p receding paragraph as " historically.'• Proprietas indica tes 1 rather, a particular quality o r properry of somerhing. (Our English word appmpriate ca tches something of its sense.) Furrher on, we will look a t the way rhat Augustine

The Sojourntr · 137

thinks about interpreting texts, especially biblicaJ texts, in some detail. For now1 we may simply note that Augustine seems to be reaching for a d istinction between a narrative abour che past o r set in th e past (which he calls "hiscory") and the significance or value (proprietas) o f some sort o f "simple" or ~·straigh tforward" reference ro the past (ad litteram or quam Iitten~ son(/~ ''jusr what the words Sa)r"). Philosophical o r allegorical o r spiritual interpretation regarded the meaning of biblical passages from a timeless pe rspective, rh e perspective of eterniry and thus of the d ivine. Historical> p ro phetic, and "literal'' understandings of b iblical texts, by comrast, place t hem in the remporal and thus within a h uman perspective. Fro m his relative isolarion in retirement arThagasre, then, tak ing ain1 at the Man ichees with rhetorical weapo ns as sharp as ever, and availing h imself o f the new in terpretive armamenta rium t hat he had acquired only rece ntly, and at a d istance, fro m Ambrose, Augustine began to embark on a new project: to think wirh the Bible-both its narrative and its co ntentad litteram, in some particular way "historically," o r '"related to its setting in the past/• Within a decade) o ne of the mosr original results o f this effort will emerge: Augustine•s teaching, against Faustus t he Man ichee, on j ews and j udaism .

••• the period 39o-391 was n·ansitiona] personally as well as intellectually. At some po int before t he beginning of 391, he lost his son, Adeodatus. With him died Augustine's last reason for hold ing o n to h is fiunily's property and h is last pub lic tie to his old relationship with h is concubine and to his former, pre-cath olic life. Perhaps ch is great change sharpened Augustine's resoh•e in a new way. He was determined co found a celibate male community dedicated to Christian learning. In the spring o f 391, Augustine left Thagaste and jou rneyed to the coastt to Hippo. He was looking fo r a place to esrablish his co mmu nity, and he wanted co recruit a n acquaintance t here to join h is e nterprise. He jou rneyed advisedly. Augustine was now a b ig fis h in a small pond: The trained orator> the man with a past both as a fo rmer Man ichee and as a secula r success in the imperial co urt1 was now avoFO R AUGUSTI NE,

1_38 • A UG UST I NJl. ASO TH E J l!WS

cife ro us champion o f catholic Christianit)'· Churches with leadership \'acancies frequently drafted talented men into ecclesiasricallife. This was how Ambrose, who at the time was not yet even baptized, had ended his government service to become bishop of Milan (374 c. E.). Augustine> still a layman, preferred a life of intellectual retreat. Hippo had no vacancy: Its bisho p, Valerius, though o ld, was in good health. Auguscine t hought t hat he was safe. He miscalculated. Wich Augustine p resent at massJ Valeri us suddenly addressed his congregation o n the urgent need to "find and o rdain a priest for the city." Thus prompted, t he people seized Augustine and propelled him forward to the bishop's seat. As he wept, they demanded his o rd ination; and Valerius, acquiescing. welcorned the coerced newcomer inco the clergy (Lifo 4)-" Valerius' community was a beleaguered mino rity in Hippo, over· shadowed by a larger, better established. and sometimes hostile Christian ch urch. Catholics in North Africa had been divided and fe ud ing for almost a cent ury by the time o f Augustine's forced ordination. The t rouble had begun d uring the last of the pagan imperial persecutions, back in the year 303: Some clergy had complied with t he government's orders and had handed over Ch ristian holy books to be burned. O ther clergy had defied the o rder and were jailed or died in prison o r were even marcyred. A new day dawned shortly t hereafter, in 312, when Constantine, becoming sole ruler of t he western empire. declared himself the patron of t he ch urch. Bu t by chat po int North Africa's church was d ivided, its clergy riven with dissent as t he stalwart accused rhe pliant of collabo ration and betrayal The confesso rs, who had srood finn in the rime of persecution, regarded rheir co mpromised breth ren as tTaditore:s C'rraitors"), who had "handed over•' the sacred scriptu res for destruction. In co nseq uence, the stalwarts challenged the legitimacy o f tradi· tor sacraments. How could a cleric be a co nd uit o f the Ho ly Spirit when through his conduct he had sinned against t he Spirit by betray· ing Chrisr? The integrity o f the sacraments was at stake. T hose baptized by traitorous clergy> the confessors insisted > would have to be bapd zed again.'! Those o f the confessing church were in rhe rnajoriry. They called

Tlu Sojounur · 139

the ''treasonous'' clergy '"Caecilianists)" after the name of one o f their bishops. The Caecilianists returned the favor and called the co nfessors "Donatisrs,'' after Donatus, o ne of their bisho ps. Both sides wasted no time in taking advantage o f Constan tines new mood, and rhey asked him to adjudicate. The empero r convened a co mmittee of overseas bishops ro exam ine th e African case. These foreign bishops, disliking the idea of rebaptism and fighting t heir own fights against local purists, found in favor o f the Caecilian ists. At a stroke, t he Caecilianists became t he 1'catholics," t hat is, th e representatives o f a universaJ (catholic.a) commun io n. The confessors became the "Donatists, ·• followers o f Donatus (said their enemies), not followers of Christ. Over the course of t he fourth cent ury, periods of muruaJ h ostility a nd even violence between the two commun ities alternated with pe riods o f relative calm. By Augustine's day, these North African Christians had settled into an u nquiet modus vivendi. Virtually identical in terms of doctrine, calenda r, creed, litu rgy, and canon, these people kept the same holidays and venerated the same mar tyrs. Donatists and catholics alike saw in their respective commu nities t he "church o f the martyrs," which t hey celebrated through public readings of t he martyrs' stories and enthusiastic laetitiae, celebrations with food, d rink, and dance held in cemeteries over holy tombs. Many believers in both communides, d ericaJ and lay, affirmed the ancient Christian hope for t he approaching End of th e Age, wit h its attendant expectation o f bodily resurrection and a t housand-year reign of the saints with Christ o n earth. When Fausrus t he Manichee complained of the carnality o f t hose churches t hat revered the Old Testament, he had belief.< and behavio r such as these in mind. Cath olics and Donatists also shared a common conservative b iblicaJ cult ure, marked by the sort of interpretations t hat elicited Man ichaean scorn for rheir sstpetJtitio. (This attachment to b iblical stories was o ne o f the reasons that Western Manichaean missio naries had developed close critical readings of both testaments, and o ne of t he reasons that this critique, as Augustine noted, was so successful.) The b iblical culture common co both sides in tur n explains why, despite t heir d ifferences, t he two North African communjties were u nited in their loathing of the Manichees. Both churches g reat!)' emphasized

140 • ,\UGUSTl NE ASD ·ru E JllWS

rhe importance of ecclesiastical sacraments, especially baptism- co the point. in the case of t he Donatisrs, of requiring rebaptism. Bot h celebrated martyrdom and venerated relics, rhe bodily remains of the mar cyred dead. Both strongly defined redemption in terms of p hysical resurrection. Both dre\v deeply from the Old Testament fo r t heir ideas about God and commu nity. They could regard only with hostilicy and conrempt a group claiming to be Christian that looked u pon baptism as superAuous, physical resurrectio n as ridiculous, and t he O ld Testa· ment itself as repulsive and inrrinsically irreligious. The lv1anichees for rheir parr returned their contempt. Repud iating t he O ld Testament, championing a d ualist read ing of rhe letrers of Paul, advocating the coherence and rationalism of their own system againsr the supmtitio and ('Jewish carnalit)'" of t heir orthodox competition, t he ~
remained a thorn in the side of both Donatists and catholics. Augustine had entered the chu rch through Ambrose in Milan. When he rerurned to Africa, he identified wit h t he Caecilianisrs, whose local minority status was offser by their wider recognition abroad, which the Donatisrs lacked. JnitiaJiy, ho\1/ever, while living in relative seclusion in Thagasre. he could remain aloof from this factio naJ tension. And by t his point, he was somewhat cult-urally removed from both g roups. Before his ordination and after, Augustine's writings evince a philosophical sophistication char was foreign to t he co ncerns and rraditions of both North Afi·ican churches. The intellectual cuicure of cosmopolitan IraJian catholicism that had so captivated Au gustine back in Milan was oflitd e local consequence. Donatism, meanwhile, t he home chu rch o f North Africa, dominated Hippo. By inducting Augustine into rheir clergy, Valerius' congregation acclaimed its champio n. They had little hope ofappreciaring Augustine•s erudire catholicism, and p robably less in terest. lr was his rhetorical presence rhat rhey valued: He would be there to p reach. co debate, and ro build up. VaJeri us cushioned the blow to Augusrine 1s aspirations for intellectual retreat by giving him a garden near the church where he could establish his celibate male commun i[}''· And so in this way- precipitously, definitively-Augustine was wrenched out of his new life and pur back into a version of his o ld one. Public life had fou nd him again. 4

Tlu

Sojo~trner

· 41

This abrupt change in Augustine's personal circumstances did not correspond co an equally abrupt change in his t hought. The broad o utlines of his in tellectual program remained the san1e before ordination a nd after. The several brief works that he produced o r completed in this period of rhe early 390s- The Usefulnm ofBelie£ Ttro Souls, against the A·1anichees)· book one and the earlier sections of book two of Free

\Viii; Faitb and tbe Creed; Sermon on the Mount- demonstrate his increasing familiarity and facility with biblical text.' and with t he tradit ions of h is church. Bu t they also evince his continuing preoccupation with and allegiance to some of rhe cardinal poin ts of late Placonic philosophy. For instance, when p reaching in 393) Augustine criticized pagan philosophers as well as Manichees for disparaging the ideas of incarnation and resurrection. Bot h g roups were wrong, he said> to regard the h u man body as somehow polluting. Yer he himself co uld not quire endorse a positive valuation of Aesh. The redeemed body, he asserted! quoting t he chu rch's creed) will indeed rise. But raised "body" is one thing and raised "flesh" something else. The raised body, Augustine explains, "will be no longer fles h and blood." Rather, it will be "simply body ... changed to an a ngelic thing," the "spiritual body" char Paul had spoken of in t Corinth ians 15, now made suita ble to cdesrjaJ habitation (Faith and the Creed 4-,10~ 6~13; 10,24). His posirion here o n this issue was closer ro those which he would eventuall)" identify as dangerously inadequate (such as Origen's) th an to his own later positions on the religiously positive value of flesh itself. in rh e Reh'flCtatiomJ decades later, he repented whar he had caught here (t,J7).'• Augustine likewise continued to g rapple \\~th the problem of evil, specifically erhicaJ eviiJ that is, sin. His meta physical definition of sin had remained constant since Cassiciacum: Sin occurred when the individual rurned away from eternal good to a temporal good. (So he had stated in book one of Free \f!i/1, written in 388 back in Italy [L.J6,3435J; so he repeated in book two>composed sometime after h is ordination in Hippo [2.20S4J.) He also continued to assert t hat agents willed freely, othenvise they could be neither virtuous nor derelict. If someo ne does good deeds because he cannot do otherwise, it is not to his credit~ neither can someone compelled to do evil deserve censure.

l..p ·

AUCiOSTII'-t! ANO TUI! J l!WS

The ways in which Augustine framed this issue began to shift, however. While srill in Jraly, he had fretted about God's indjrect responsib ility fo r h uman sin: After all, when God had given free will co h umans, he ce rtain ly knew that they would m isuse it (Free \Tiillt.2,4}. O nce back in Africa, however, Augustine's defense o f t he \\~ll's freedom became increasin gly oblique, his questio ns (and a nswers) seeming ly motivated less by t he q uestion o f hu man merit as such and more by t he questjon o f divine justice. Thus, in 392, Augustine observed that God would nor be just in punishing sinners unless sinners had the choice nor to sin. But the biblical God is just, and he dors pun ish sin. It follows, then, rh at when someone sins he must do so of his 0\\'11 free choice. Therefo re, he concluded, the will is free (Ag.1imt Forttmatus 15; 20). In orher wo rds, Augustine's defense of human freedom seems motivared less by a desire co assert something int rinsic about hu ma n beings and more by his desire to d efend his idea o f a just god. As h is st udy of che Bib le became more profound, his a rgumenrs abour therelationship between divine justice and h uman freedom grew increasingly complex. Soon, this co mplexity would also contribute to his innovative reaching o n jews and Judajsm. In che meantime, curiously, Augustine's presence as p riest in Hippo created an opportunity for c.acholic a nd Donacisr cooperation. In August o f 392 he was approached by a d elegation drawn fro m borh commun ities. Dism ssed by "the p lague o fMa nichaeism (which! had taken ho ld o f both citizens a nd visitors in great n umbers/' this g roup requested t hat Augustine publicly debate the Manichaean priest, Fortunatus, wh om t hey blamed fo r the sect's local successes (Life 6). Aug usrine consented , and o n the 28th a nd 29th o f August he con fro nred h is former colleague in t he bat hs o f Sossius, ro debate the respective virtues of catholic and Manichaean positions o n the o rigin a nd narure of evil.•s

•• • "1 NOW T H I NK

an error what I previously chought was rrue." \Vith this

opening statement, Augustine challenged h is former colleague. "\V'hether I am righ t) I ho pe co hear fi·om you." "Describe t h is erro r," responded Forrunat us. In ch is way, before Hippo's gathered crowds, ch eir pub lic confrontation began.

Tht Sojounur • I.H

Augustine o pened by attacking the Manichees' doctrine of God. Their belief in a p rimordial battle between Good a nd Evil, he argued, comp romised the idea of divine o mnipotence: An aJI·powerful god cou ld never be u nder threat o f hostile invasion> nor could an invio· lable god suffer injury. Fortunatus coun tered by asserting t he moral incorruptib ility of God, n1eaning that no evil could ever proceed from h im {"Not darkness, not demons> not Satan"). He thereby implied (since these evil entities had to o riginate from somewhere} thar only a d ualist explanation could account fo r evil withou t compromising t he moraJ goodness and> therefore, the very defin ition of God. Only t he Son, said FortunatusJ came forth from the fat her, to effecr t he s.alva· tion of souls. And t hen 1 significantly, Fortunatus fortified his posicion by quoting fro m the New Testament, in t his instance specifically from the Gospel ofJohn. "I am t he way, t he truth, and t he door [sicj. . . . No o ne can come to t he Father except by me" (John 14:6). "He who has seen me has seen t he Father also" (John 14:9). '' Whosoever believes in me shall not taste deat h forever, but has passed from death ro life, and shall not come to judgment" (John 5'24: Agai11st FortliiJatus 1-3). By citing scripture and by being the first to do so, Fortunatus had seized the rhetorical high ground. He also established a patte rn t hat would continue for the d uratio n of the first day of their debate. Au· gustinet criticizing lv1anichaean d octrine, was t he o nly contestant to actually describe it. ForrunarusJ citing New Testament texts-the Gospel of Matthew, t he Gospel of John, and especially t he letters o f Paul-made his case by invoking material familiar to all t he assorted Christian members of their audience. He t hus had rhe added advan· tage of presenting the position t hat he represented (but did not actu· ally describe) as rooted in those Ch ristian texts that t he majority o f the a ud ience considered canonical Augusrine, by contrast, argu ed de· d uctively o r p hilosophically. Simply by invoking verses from t he New Testament. thent Fortunatus unsettled Augustine's case, making his own position seem to be sannioned by scriptu re. Finally, well along into their co ntest, Augustine s.aw a way co use the Bib le co his own advantage. "Ou r a ud ience wa nted us ro discuss the question whether two contrary natu res exist by using rational ar· gumenr. But since }'OU keep taking refuge in scripture, I will engage you o n that field." He then cited the fi rst line of Paul's letter to t he Ro·

144 • ... UGUSTl N"l! ASO Ti l E JEWS

mans, where Paul p roclaimed that Jesus was "descended from David according co che Aesh" (Romans I:J). The Manichees, Augustine knew perfecdy well, held chat fles hly bodies were the produce of evil forces. Their C hris< was docecic: He had not real!)' assumed flesh, bur had only seemed co. By invoking Romans 1:3, Augustine hoped co create daylighr, publidyJ between Forwnarus' Jvlanich aeism and Paul's aurhoriry. Buc For
4

been fettered in the race of dark ness." At that point, conduded th e no tat·ius) rh e crowd actually broke up the proceedings because they were so horrified by Fortunatus• remark. 4

These were Augustine's scribes, a nd it was Augustine who later pu t into circulation this transcripc of the debate. By the end of the sec ond day, as we will shordy see, Augustine did indeed back Fortunat us inco a corner, and the Manichee did leave Hippo. In light of all chis, many h istorians have simply assumed ch at th is occasion was the unmitigated success that Augustine claimed ic was.'6 Following rhe debare as ir u n folds in the rranscript, however, t his conclusion is Jess than dear. Augustine had been aggressive and lawyerly: scolding Forcunacus (Against rortttnattts 3), complaining repeated ly t hat he responded to all of Forcunarus' questions while Forcunacus answered none of his (5, 7, 8, 10), even implying da rkly that Man ichaean morals migh t indeed be (albeit secredy) as profligate as popular rumor held (2-3). These complaincs cell us more about Augustine's rhetorical rraining than they do about t he actual cornportmenc of Forcunaru.s and of his sect: Handbooks o n rhetoric advised 4

Tht> SojourntY •

14.5

speakers to ma ke exactly such accusations in o rder to d iscredit opponents in o ral argument. Also- h ighly rrained, h ighly skilled, and highly p rofe.sional oracor that he was- Augustine d oubdess projected confidence and conviction when he spo ke. But Fortunatus. the transcript reveals, had retained control o f their d ialogue. He persistently frustrated Augustine's a t tempts to ind uce him to declare Manichaean theology by the simple expedient o f quoting supportive New Testamem texts instead. And quotation was itself a shrewd stra tegy, enabling him co make statements o f seemingly un impeachable o rthodOX)'· It would be curious, th en, if at t his junctu re, ha\•ing already deflected Augustine's Ch riscological gambit by quoting Pa ul againsr " Aesh and blood," Fortu natus had then volu nteered his sect's teachings o n t he d ispe rsed and suffering Chr ist. Nor does that Manichaean teaching follow easily from h is last recorded remark. Perhaps, instead, Augustine's sympathizers in the crowd reall)' did break up the meeting in order to give h im rime to regroup. The evidence of the firs t d ay's t ra nscript cannot help us to decide. The best reason to t hink that Augustine had not do ne well o n the fi rst day of the debate, however, and t he best reason to suspecc that even Augustine knew t hat h e had not done well, is what happened o n the second day. This time Fortu natus opened. He made a simple statement o f princip le: God is all good; nothing he makes is evil; t he evil t h ings o f this world rhus have a source oth er than God, because evil t hings a re fo reign to him. Augustine responded by concurring with Fortunatus' theological po inr. God is all good; nothing he makes is evil. Then he n1oved in to his familiar argument o n free wil1 as t he o rigin of and explanatio n fo r evil, which he defined as sin.

Evi1 ol'igin aces u1 che voluncary sin of the soul, to which God gave free will. If God had nor given free will, he could nor judge justly, whet her ro punish or to reward. There would be no pouu to t he divine tnsrrucdon thac \\'e should repem our sins, nor any po1nc ro God 1s forgiving ou t• sins through our Lotd jesus Christ.. Wh)' no[? Be-cause unless someone sins o f hts own free will, he does noc sin ar all. AGAINST f'OIUV,,OA'T US 1 0

146 • AU
Fortunatus rhen answered Augustine with a query very similar co the one that Augustine himself had put four years previously in book one of Fm \Viii: If God gave t he soul free will, is he not at least implicated in h u man sin? If free will>which is t he reason why man sins, was g iven by God, rhen "he would pa rticipate in my faul t, because he would be t he a ut hor of my fault." Forcunacus framed his response in Pauline language about "sin dwelling within us" (cf. Roma nsp7). Augustine, u ndererred, simply repeated his prior remark: Neither sin a nd rh us jusr p unish menr nor meri t and just reward is possible wirh out free \viii. At this poin t, a bruptly, a fusillade of allusions and quotations from the Gospel of john, the Gospel of Matthew, and especially from t he letters of Pa ul burst fro m Fortunarus. All of these texts sup po rted his two main po ims: There is much more to evil chan simply th e evil rhat men do ("Apart from o ur bodies, evil th ings dwell in the whole world;' Ag.1inst Farttmatus 2.t); and men do evil because th is larger, cosmic, contrary narure, aJive in the fles h, compels them to do evil. Romans 8T "The mind of t he flesh is hostile to God." Galatians 5"7' "The flesh lusts against the spiri t and t he spirit against the Aesh." Romans 7 23-25: " 1 see a norher law in my members, \varring against the law o f my mind and leading me captive to sin and death . Miserable man! Who will deliver me from th is body of death?" (Against Formnatus 21). Augustine chen respo nded ro Fortu nat us. What he said, however. represenrs a fresh deparcure fro m his earlier remarks. Abruptly, su rprisingly, Augustine qualified h is earlier description of the will's fi·eedom t hrough an ad hominem ap peal to common expe rience. And as he d id so, he too invoked scripture, alluding to Paul (sin a nd de<>t h comes rh rough o ne man - char is} Adam~ Roma ns 5:12) and th us, th rough Paul, to Genesis:

That man who was firsr formed (Adam) could exerctse Ius will in complere freedom. He was made so char ab.solurely norhtng could resisr his will, as long as he subjeered himself ro God's command. Bur afrer he freely chose co sin, we who descend from htrn were plunged inro binding consrrajnrs (nos in n«essitt.tem pntecipirati

sumus). If }''OU reflece for a n1omene, you'll see rhe rrut h of whae I say. Today, before \Ve scare sinning, we have ir in our powet· co do or nor ro do as we want. We've formed no habir. BU[ once, rhrough rhe exercise of our freedom, we scan rosin, rhe pernicious sweemess and pleasure of sinning overwhelms d1e soul. Tangled up In and by irs own hablrs, rhe soul cannot rriumph over t he obscades rhac ir has made fol' ttself through irs own sins. Many people, for example, do nor wane ro S\l.rear1 bur t heit· rongue has become so habiruared to S\1/earing char rher just cannot srop themselves. .. . Do you wam co see for }•'Ourself whet her what I say is tfUe? j usr tty nor swearing: }'Ou'll feel rhe fo t·ce of habrr for sure.. . . Tbis is whar ''wars against rhe soul'': habir, formed in rhe fles h. 71Jis is rhe ''mind ofrhe flesh'' char cannot be subjecc ro God's Ia\\'.

Because of Adam's sin, Augustine a rgues here, h umanit)' is currently so co nstituted that will is in fucc not as free as Adam's had originally been. This is not an argument about o riginal sin: That signature teaching of Augustine's is still many years off in rhe future. Bur it is an a rgument about dimin ished capaciry. People now have a type of wiiJ, Augustine says, that is difterent from what Adam's had o riginally been: Now, because sin is habit forming, habit u ndermines the \vill•s free operation. lndividuals still choose co sin freely. in the sense that norh ing outside of rhemsdves compels rhem to sin. Bur once rh ey sin (as th ey invar iably do)t they sin thereafter with progressive ease. And when they finally decide rhac they want to stop sin ning, the),. discover that they have great d ifliculty. The will's effecciveness-what we \vould call "will power''-has beco me compromised th rough habitual sinning. Its debility is a n effect and a consequence o f Adam's fall. Fortunarus resisted Augustine's argument. He protested t hat Augustine reduced the scope of cosmic evil to the relatively small scale of hu man wrongdoing. Earlier, Fortunatus had alluded to Matthew (15:1} a nd J IO, on good and bad trees, good a nd bad fruit), and he had very effectively quored Paul in support of the idea of cosmic evil. Now he continued to press t his point. "The same aposde said that we snuggle

148 · AUGUSTI NE ,\N'D THIO J I:WS

not o nly against flesh and blood, but also against principalities and powers> spirits of wickedness, a nd the force of the kingdom o f darkness•' (Ag(Jinst Fo-rttmatus 2.3} referring co Ephesians j:l2). Bu r Augustine \Vas now in control of their encounter. He simply ignored Fortunatus' challenge while continuing to badger h is opponent with h is own scatements about the nature of God-rh e same points with which he had opened the debate (Ag.1inst Forttmatus 1). If God is rruly aU-powerful and incorru ptible, Augustine insisted} rhen no Kingdom of Da rkness could ever have invaded rhe d ivine sphere and somehow carried off the ''divine sparks" of soul supposedly now n·apped in flesh. Finally, ch ough sriiJ unconvinced, Forrunatus acknowledged t hat he could not defe nd his views o n evil's origin given Augustine's insisrence o n d ivine omnipotence. He conceded the debare (Agaimt Fort1matus 37~ note t hat Fortunatus· starting point, God's goodness. was simply buried by Augustine•s onslaught). Augustine•s biograp her Possidius closes his report of t his incident by relating that Fortunatus left Hippo shortly t hereafter and never retu rned (Lifo G) .

••• from what happened here?The transcript of t his deba te. first of all, reveals surprising areas of agree ment bet ween alJ three o f rh ese North African Christian communities, areas t hat Augustine's own p rior descriptions o f Manichaeism had nor disclosed. FortLtnatu s, for exan1ple, was just as inclined as h is more orth odox hearers ro see God the father of Christ as "an avenger o f evil" (ultor WHAT c.·\N WE L EARN

malomm; Against Fommats.ts. 20)-a sur prisingly '"Old Testament" characterizat ion of t he deiry fo r a communicant of a sect that rejected the Old Testament. Furthermore, Fortunarus bo th up held and appealed ro "the authority o f evangelical faith" and "the authority of scripture" (Against Fortunatus 20). For .Manichees, the New Testament was more like o rr.hodoxy>.s apocrypha: lr was not itself canonical, and rh us in this sense it was not authoritative. The Manichaean canon had been selfconscious!)' authored b)' Man i himself precisely to avoid the disorders of other churches, in which the founding figure (such as Jesus), having composed no writin gs of his own, had left confusion and corru pted

Tbt Sojournrr ·

149

secondhand trad itions in his wake. Further, as we saw earlier, Manichaean missionaries prided themselves o n not arguing from au thori ty. As Augustine noted, they prized rheir abilit)' to argue by appeal to "reason alone>" and rhey disparaged catholics for relying on authority to excess. (See, for example, Usefi baptized into contesting churches in the mid-second century by a wide variety of Christian in rellecruaJs> this god had never been native to the narratives of the O ld Testamenc, which portrayed lsraef•s god as a character who acted and spoke and felt and did. But the well-educated within al l o f these scriptural co mmw1ities perceived no awkwardness, so unselfconsciously did they read rheir sacred texts in terms o f the caregories o f meaning bequeathed rhem by their (fundamentally Hellenisric) education. Forcunarus' allegiance to rhis concept of deity also gives the measu re o f how western his branch of !\'1anichaeism had become, despite its historic origins in Persian Mesopotam ia. The o ld Greek p hilosophical idea o f an immu table high god srill provided the plumb line for all in rellectuaJiy respectable rheological discussion, at leasr within Rome•s empire. Hence Augustine's opening salvo rhe firs t day of their debate: He attacked the Manichees' conceptualization of rhe high god

150 • AUGUSTISl! AND THf! JEWS

not for its heretical features-on the contrary, their god was eminently

respectable a nd relig iously recogn izable-but fo r its philosophical incoh erence. The Ma nichaean myth of a p rimordial battle between good and evil>he insisted, in effecr made their god insufficiently unchanging (Ag.1i11st Forttmatus t- 2). Fortunatus, of course, denied his accusatio n. But by refusing to continue their d ispute o n this point-the impassibility of the h igh god- Fortunants also reveals how much more attuned to the biblical culture of the average North African Ch ristian audience he was than Augustine. The whole time that Augustine had been in Italy, acquiring h is cosmopolita n panache and h is sophisticated ph ilosophy, Fortunacus had been at work p roselytizing North Africans. The subtext of Augustine's initial atcack- Manichees are bad philosophers because their myth violates t he (ph ilosophical) idea of divine impassibilit)-mat· tered much less to their audience, Fortunatus apparentl)' knew, than d id establishing a position on the a u thori ty o f the gospels and of PauL On the second day, when Augustine ou tflanked his o pponenr, he did so b)' appealing not to New Testament texts (Fortunatus had found coo much ammunition there already) but to the North African Everyman and the common experience of compulsive swearing. In sup po rt o f docetic Christology, rhe impossibilit)' of physical resurrection and the essenrial antipathy of flesh and spirit- all core Manichaean teachings- Fortunat us had little difficulty marsh aling impressive authority from Paul's letters. lndeed, the entire debate. as one historian has noted. seems to have turned o n the interpretation of certain Pauline texts. And when>on day two, Augustine pressed him to explain why God permitted the soul to suffer t he hard ships of this life if nothing had compelled him to do so, Fortu nat us replied with Paul's defense of divine prerogative in Ro mans 9:20: '"0 man, who are you to answer back to God? Sh all the ching made say to its creator, 'Why did you rnake me like this?'" This verse, as we will see, would have a long future in Augustine's own \vritings once he developed his mature understanding of Paul o n electio n a nd grace a nd accordingly had to defend the justice of his own god.•; Even though Augusdne was the undisputed \vinner of this debate, Fortunatus had touched o n a true weak spot in Augustine•s defense of

Tl't- SojtJurMr ·

15 1

the freedom of the will. Free will, the Manichee had insisted, does not and canner in and of itself accoun t for sin. Here Fortu natus d rew as much on traditions that can be traced back to G reek philosophical erhics as he d id on passages in Paul's letters (such as Romans chapter 7) that could be taken to imply or describe inner conflict in ways that o bliged Manichaeism. Free will in philosophical thought had never been imagined as a neutral capacity to choose between good and evil. The truly free wiJI in this system always inclines to the good.111 For Forrunarus, then, the f.1cr that people d o sin was evidence that the will was not truly free, because no truly free will would sin. Jt fol· lowed, therefore, for him as for the Manichees generally, rhat the soul sin ned involuntarily, compelled by some fo rce foreign to its self to do what ir d id not wanr to do. He thus defended his view with a length)' catena of statements from Paul o n the hostility o f flesh to God o r to spirit, drawing especially on the letter to the Romans, wherein the aposrle himself seemed to mourn rhat he ro uld not do the good that he wanted to do, and rhat he fo und himself doing the evil that he d id nor wan t to do 1 because of his entanglement in flesh (Romans7:l9-20; AJ§Iimt Fm·trmatus 11). The agent in this compulsion, urged Fortunaw s, working th rough fles h, was Evil itself, the coercive fo rce of the King· dom of Darkness. Augustine, at the tu rning poin t of their debate, took a position o n the exercise of free will chat was borh like and unlike Forrunarus'. Jn o ne way, he essentially co nceded Forrunatus' point. He too said that human will cu rrendy was not exacthl free. Bur-and here is where they differ crucially-for Augustine, what co mpelled the will to err was not exterior to the self. On the contrary. the source of this miserable compulsion UJ:ls the self. Hurnan souls, bound ro morcal fles h (the "law in my members," as Paul had said, Ro mans T23) easil)' form bad habits. Bad habits facilitate bad choices and thus inhibit the will's free exerCISe.

Habit, its effects on the will, the burden of mortality in consequence of Adam's sin: All of these discrete elements of his response to Forrunatus had ap peared already in Augustine's writings well before their debate. Back in Cassiciacum, Augustine had considered the ways thar consuetudo ("habit/" "custom") acted on the soul (Against the Aca·

152 • AUOUST I NE ANO T HE J llWS

demics J.G,tj , written du ring the winter o f 385-386}.1\'1ortal flesh clearly made the soul more susceptible to sin, he observed, and the flesh was also susceptible "because of the most just law of God, o n account of ancient sin," that is, the sin of Adam (Marais oftbe GJUrch 22,40; written in Rome in 388). And earlier, in 392, he had d rawn connections berween life in rhe fleshly body, habir, a nd sin (Ttt!O Sat~ls, ag.1inst the ManidJ<es tO,tJ; 14,23). Bur Augustine, when he had fi rst voiced such ideas, had also concended that "whoever wishes to live rightly and ho norably . . . attains his object with perfect ease. In order to attain it, he has on I)' to wi11 it"' (H-.e \Viii 1.13,29; in 388). And some eight months before this confrontation with Fortunarus, he asserted that, since wisd om irn pedes th e soul's sin ning, "the wise man alone does nor sin" (Usefuln~ss of Be· lie[12,27; in 391- 392). It was the specific context o f h is debate with Fortunatus that altered rhe significa nce o f these various elements. Augustin e had begun his defense of free will in this debate by arguing ded uctively: If a just god punishes sin then the will rn ust be free, if wrong-do ing is not willed freely chen transgression is not sin, and so on. As their debate progressed, however, other emphases emerged, u ntil fi nally the question hovering over both co ntestants was the moral character o f an omnipotent god who (because he could nor be coerced) would either permit or induce the souls o f his onn creatures to suffe r (Against For· tunatus 17; 20}. By lin king moral choice both to Adam's fall a nd ro t he individual's psychological and moral development, Augustine had, de facto, red uced the free o peration of the will. These v.vo h istorical events-one dista nt {Adam 's sin)1 o ne proximate (one•s own sins)-necessarily im pinged o n in divid ual choice. Morrality, the pun ishment o f Adam's sin, was fo rever after inherited along with the flesh irself. "\X'e a re bo rn of earth, an d we shall all go in to the earth on account o f th e sin of the 6 rst man" {Against Fortunattts 12). For everyone after Adam, then, the soul is connected wit h t he sort o f Aesh (that is, morral flesh) that facilitates t he fo rmation of hab ir. Ha bit-feelings and actions with a past- in rurn creares a compulsive emorional pathway that exerts immediate in fluence on mora] de-

Tlu SOJOitYIJer • JSJ

cis ion making. In this wa)', a person's previous wrong choices combine and collude to compromise h is or her freedom in the p resent. The result is conflict a nd ethicaJ paralysis. People want to do something but lind that rhey cannot d o it>o r t hey do not want to do something but li nd themselves do ing it anyway. {Hence Augustine's apposite evocation, o n this pointJ of the difficulty in trying not to swear.) The Pauline verses that Forrunaws adduced did indeed bespeak in tense conflict. ''The mind o f t he flesh is hostile to God; it is nor subjecr to the law o f God nor can it be" (Ro mans 87). "The flesh lusts against t he spirit and rhe spirit against rhe fleshn (Galatians 5:17). Bu t this conflict, insisted Augustine, a ttested not to cwo contrary nat u res at war, pitting body against soul, bu t to a single soul caught between its present desires and the habit ual pull of its mvn emotional past.19 The deba te wit h Fortunatus sharpened a nu mbe r of issues fo r Augustine. Evoking Adam as he suddenly did o n the second day of their debate, Augustine did more cha n introduce inco this contexr his earlier idea that hab it mitigated ethical freedom. By framing his respo nse explicitly in terms of Adam's fall, he int roduced a biblical and, at the same moment, a h istoricaJ perspective. The prio r question ("Hmv does habit affect will?") ced ed to the more fundamental question: IV/ry a re hu mans so constitu ted that habit affects \1111? By framing t his question with th e b iblical story of Adam's fall, t he pro blem of ethical evil became, more clearly, the question of the justice of God. Augustine remai ned comm ined to his fundarnentaJ principles: To be justly punishable, sin had to be utterly voluntary~ to be justly rewarded, so did virtue. Thus if "Adam" and "hab it" implied that h uman agents, though now fun ctioning with dim inished capacity, were still culpable> then rheir co nditio n had to be compatible wit h the justice o f the judging god who was the u ltimate source of ch at condition. After h is debate. and despite his new d uties as priest, Augustine pressed a head both \lith his study of scri pture and with h is writing campaign against t he Manichees. In Faith and the Creed (393), h e again coun terpo ised rhe effecrs of habit to the Manichaean d octrine o f two nat u res when considering the problem of sin>reclaiming two favorite Pa uline verses from t hese o pponenrs, Ro mans 7:25 ("\X'ith my m ind I serve t he law o f God, but wit h my Aesh the law of sin") and Ephesia ns

ls.J · AUGUSTI N I! AN"l> TUil J llWS

("We were by nature children of wrath"; Faith and the Creed J0,2J). Committed to the interpretive principle that the PsaJms referred to Christ- another way to assert t he essemiaJ Ch ristianity of th e Old Testa menc- he began a co ntinuous cmnmenca ry o n aU of t h em, producing interpretations of rh e fi rst thirty-two psalms by 395· Bu r the p remier rexts and issues contested by cath o lics and Ma nichees were Paul•s letters) the gospels., a nd the moral sra tus of ma2]

terial creation as presented in Genesis. Augustine again began to work on these directly. In 393, he a ttempted a nother anti-~bnichaean commencar)' o n Genesis, this time not aJiegorical b ur ad JiUer.-;m. He soon a bandoned the project. ("My inexperience collapsed under t he weigh t of so heavy a load," he recalled decades later in his review of th is work RetmcU.tions <.(18]17.) The so-called a ntitheses from t he Sermon o n the Moun t ("You have heard it said . ... But I say,.~ .l\'fatthew 5:21 -22, fo r exa mple) had lo ng served t he Manichees as evangelical supporc for t heir rejection of t he Old Testament. Against them, in The Lord's Sermon on the Motnlt (394), Augustine argued in defense of the basic harmony of Old and New Testaments. And then, shortly thereafter, he began a new cycle of work. Plunging into a concent ra ted study of the Manichees' favorite apostle, Augusrine agajn cook u p the letters of Paul

7 • T H E CONVE RT

Wl1at did Saul tvant b11t to attack, seize, bi11d ,,d slay CIJt'istians? \Vbat a fierce, sar~age, blind rvilJ was tbat.1 Yet be teas tlwown prostrate by one word from on high, and a vision c(t.me to bim rvhereby his mi11d and tttil/ tuere tt~>nu•:d from rheir fii!rceness and set on tl~ right "'':Y towards fidtb. AUGUSTI NJl., TO StMt'J.ICJ, tSUS 1.2,22

A ugustine's fi rst serious encounter with Pa ul had occw..-ed in Carthage, when he was a Manichee. The Paul whom he met at t hat time was unencu mbered by any positive relatio nship wirh the Old Testament and thus with Judaism. The Manichees had explained away all affirmative references to jewish scriptures, law, or p raccices in PauJ's letters with their theory of rextuaJ corruptio ns. Anything else t hat co n tradicted what the Manichees thought Paul should have said-such as his claim that Ch rist was descended from Da\•id accordi ng to the fles h (Romans CJ)- they accounted fo r by holding t hat Paul's 0\\11 though t itself had developed, so that some o f h is statements were more sound than others. Mo re positively, the Man ichees readily fastened on Paul's hab it ual use of binary o ppositesAeshj spirit, Law/ g race, sin/ righteousness-to bu ild a firm base fo r coherent and compelling d uaJist interpretatio ns o f their own. And Paul himself, th o ugh h is letters were formally outside o f rhe Man ichaean canon, was esteemed by North African Manichees as a fo un dationaJ a uthority.' This Man ichaean Paul had been Augustine's own companion d uring rh e whole period of h is intelleccual coming-of-age, from h is n ineteenth year unril he was well past thirty. His close reading o f th e books of the Platonists in Milan then in trod uced him not o nly co a new way

15 6 • ,\lHiUST I Nil. ASD TUil p:WS

of conceiving God, matter, and t he problem o f evil, but also to a new apostle. At that heady momenr, Augustine enthusiasrically discovered and remained convinced that Paul expressed (though more perfectly because Paul was Christian) the same wisdom as d id the Neoplaconists. Through Paul's letters, Augusrine glimpsed the f.tce o f philosophy (Against the Academics 2.2,6). In Paul's d escri ption o f the visible things of creation making known the invisible God> Augustine heard the su mmo ns to the soul to retreat from temporal t hings and to return to t he realm of the eternal (Romans 1 :20~ Tme Rf!ligion 51,10J). Neoplaconism would remain fo rever fundan1encal to Augustine's t hought. Beginning in rhe mid-390s, however, challenged publicly as he had been by Fortu nat us' adept appeals to the f>auline epistles in the course of their debate, Augustine shifted strategies in his campaign against the Manichees. The erudite treatises appro priate to his gentleman h• aud ience in Jtalv and to his co ntinued life of retirement back in Thagaste would no lo nger do. He was now a ch urchman, responsible to and fo r a congregation, and co a wider church established in the Bible belt of Latin Ch ristianity. Augustine wo rked to be able to express his understanding of Paul in a more scripturaJ idiom. As he learned how co do so, his earlier> more p hi losophically framed argu ments and vocabulary ceded to the narrative st ructu re and co the inherent d rama of biblical salvation his>

'

m ry. Taking the issues thar the Manichees had set-t he o rigin o f evil, t he starus of the LawJ the character of the Old Testament's god, the ro le of the will and the flesh in both sin and salvation- Augusrine began an intensive project of exegesis. His goal w·as to in terpret PauJ>s lerters in such a way that he could defend rhe goodness o f the created order and o f the Old Testamen t (and thus rhe goodness of its god) while using Paul's own words in defense of the freedom of the will. The sum mer o f 394 marked t he begin ning of Augustine's staccato production of works o n Paul. Notes OIJ Rornans. p reserved a rranscri pt of answers that he had given in discussion wich fellow clergy at Carthage. Later, back in Hippo, he completed a commentary o n Galatians but abandoned a more ambitious work o n Romans, t he Unfinished Com· mental)'· (He left off this project, he later explained, because he was so "disco u raged by the magnitude and labor of rhis task": Rrtmctatiom

Tbt COfiVt'Y( • 157

l.lJ[22],t). Chapters 7 thro ugh 9 of Ro mans in particular offered the Manichees stro ng sup port fo r their views o n dualism> cosmic evil>and mo ral determinism. Paul spoke there o f the Law and sinful passio ns working death th rough the fles h (Romans 7=5), o f all of creation groaning while it awaited redemption (Ro mans 8:22), of the O ld Testament's god co ntrolling human actions (Romans 9:13-18). Addressing these d ifficult verses in passing in his Notes on Roman~ Augustine co nsidered them again shortly thereafter in greater derail (questions 66> 67> and 68 in his volume of collected essays>On Various Questions). Finally, capping this period and in a sense (as we shall see) transform ing it, he returned to Romans 7 through 9 yet again in 396 for his AtJStllt't-s to Simplicianus. Augustine's goal throughout this protracted effort was to construct from Paul an argument against the Manichee.s that was both scriptural and, by his definition (which we are still trying to g rasp), "historicaL'' Having already tried and failed in his attempt to understand Genesis "according to irs historical character., (Retractatiom 1.(18]17, remarking o n the U>JfoJisiJed Litem/ Cm>Jmelllal)'), he now discovered that Paul's letters were no easier to interpret with this co ncern in mind. He petitioned the famous j eron1e in Bethlehem to send him translated biblical co mmentaries of rhe g reat Greek fathe rs (Letter 18.2,2)> and he attempted to co nsult whatever Larin authorities he could. All of these darn-his fitful literary production, his search for authoritative guides, his d issatisfaction with his own repeated efforts to interpret these texts-arrest to a more fundamencal problem. In the mid-390s, Augustine was struggling with his 0\\TJ uncertain ty about how to read the Bible.' Help came to him from an unlikely quarcer. O nce again, the charged anti-t...tanichaean sentiment of bo th catholics and Donatjsrs served to bring members of rhes.e two murua11y alienated North African communities together. Back in 392, the desire to frustrate rhe missio nary success of rhe Manichee Fortunarus had precipitated a crosscongregational coalition of Hippo's Donatists and catholics, who united to ask Augustine to intervene. Two years Iacer, Augustine himself effected a similar initiative. His efforts resulted in a generative in tellectual coalition between himself and the work of an elder con-

158 • AU THE J EWS

temporary, one o f the most original a nd in1po rra nt Larin th eologians of the fou rth centu ry: the Donatisr layman Tyco nius. Tyco nius is o ne o f the most elusive figures o f lare La tin Christianit)'· A h ighly original a nd independent thinker, h e had insisred -against rh e perfectio nist principles of his own Dona tist com munity-th at in r.he age before rhe End, the church muse remain a <~mixed body" con· rai ning both sin ner and saint. Censured for taking t his posicio n by a Donatistcouncil in rhe mid ·J80s, Tyconius nonetheless remai ned JoyaJ to his church. He died sometirne before Augusd ne encountered his writings. (There is no evidence ch ar the nvoever acruaiJy met.) Perhaps his reputation as a d issident Donarist was what in it ially co mmended h is \\cork to Augustine's attention. Though h is dispute wirh the Man ichees preoccupied Augustine throughour rhe .390s, he was already engaged in anti-Dona tist polemics as well. Jn that conresr, he readily made many ofTyco nius' a rgu ments his own} Bur Augusti ne fo und much more in Tyconius ch an just a quarry for arguments against Donatisr separatism. Tyconius poin ted the v.-ay for h im to reconceprualize h is reading of th e d ouble canon of scrip· ture. In his han dbook of biblical interpretation, The Book of Ruks, Tyconius had identified seven compositional principles governing scriptural prose that, o nce understood, he claimed, co uld serve as "keys o r windows to the secrets of the Law." By " l a\1/' Tyconius in· tended much more than just the Five Books of .Moses o r the n·aditions of jewish p ractice. For h im, Law indicated the e ntire Bible, the New Testa ment as well as t he Old, which taken together constit uted «a vast forest of prophecy" (Book ofUules prologue). This perspective on scrip ture reversed th e usual terms o f Christian interpretatio n, e nabling Tyconius to read the gospel in light of t he l aw, not just the Law in light of the gospel. And this mode o f reading in turn enabled Tyconiusa nd through h im 1 Augustine-co understand Pau l's letters in a new \vav."' ' Tyco nius' originality emerges most clearly when we compare h im with his fellow b iblical interpreters. Christian writers had long relied on ph ilosophical and typological allegory when commenting o n the Bib le. Spiritual allegory provided a way to draw metaphysical truths from scriptural narrative and C hristian mean ings from o riginally Jew-

T/u COIWtrl • 159

ish rexts. Jn more classically allegorizing writings) especiall)' those o riginating from Alexandria-Philo's commentar ies (mu ta tis muta ndis), O rigen's, o r t hose later works by Ambrose (and t he young Augustine) that borrowed fro m t his n·ad ition-characters, images) and incidents in biblical narra tive were frequently matched to timeless mo ral or metaphysical trurh s. Thus, famously, in Genesis 3, Adam stood fo r che h igher incelligence of che soul, the serpe m for che distracting world of t he senses, and so on (see p. 4& above). Such allegorical interpreta tions were, in this sense, strongly ''verticaL" More "horizontal" allegories-temporally oriented interpretatio ns char soughr to demonstrate char Christianity was th e fu lfi llment ofJudaism or tha t episodes in the gospels revealed the t rue meaning oflncidencs in che Septuagim-worked by ident ifying correspondences between events, images, personages, or numbers across the Old Testamemf New Tescament d ivide. This sort o f typological allegory often established a relative inferio rity of rh e Septuagint prototype ro its later Christian co rrelate. In the New Testament's Epistle to th e Hebrews, for exarn ple, the earrh ly temple in jerusalem represents an inferio r copy o f the heavenly tabernacle, the Jerusalem p riesthood is an infe rio r anticipation of the erernal priest hood of Ch risr, the sacrifices at rh e earth!)' altar imitate only imperfeccly rhe perfect sacrifice o f Christ, and so o n (Hebrews S:s; 9:1 1- :!ll). This sort of typo logical reading reinforced the proof from prophecy: the O ld Testament procotype impe~fectly presented and predicted, its New Testament correlate co mpleted a nd perfeered . j ustin Ma rtyr's Dialogue with Trypbo stands as a monumenr to rh is kind of interpretation. \\/hen he drew correspondences between the Septuagint's references to "wood"' o r "tree"' and the Chr istian proclamation of Christ' s cross, for exa mpleJustin not only identified a common figu re o r type shared between the text a nd rhe later nadition. He also made a point abou t mean ing and d iscernment: The earlier images fo u nd their deepest and t ruest significance when understood as prophecic fores hadowings of Chr ist's crucifixion (Trypho 86; 90- 91). Melito of Sard is (as we have seen; p. 83 a bove) t ra nsmuted the entire b iblical story of Passover inro an inn·icate typological code fo r Christ's Passion. Melito assumes that rh e events described in Exodus had

160 • AU
occurred in che past. Bur the ultimate hiscorical significance of these events, he firmly believed> could be grasped only when they were understood by appeal to rhe Christian message. In ocher words, the present, not the past, set the terms for interpretarion.5 Tyconius too relied on typology to u npack the "mystical rules ... of the whole Law" (&ok of Ruks, p rologue). Bu t where ocher t heolo· g ians had used such interpretation to build various analogies between the (in ferio r) Old Testament and t he (superior) New Testament, Tyco· nius used typology to argue for the two testaments• theological concinnity, and even their identity. A single divine initiative of redemption, he urged, bound rhe cwo testaments together. Abraham, Moses, David, Paul, the co ntempo rary believer: All shared and share the same fai th. ('The Spirit, che faith, and the grace g iven by Christ have always been the same." Before his incam ation, Christ gave grace to the righteous within Israel; after his incarnation, he made the same g race available to all peoples. " By his co ming, Chrisr bestowed these gifts u pon the whole race> having removed the veil that was covering the Law.'' Tyconius alludes here to Paul's words about Moses' face, veiled when he descended Sinai (2 Corinthians )'tj- t?; Exod us 34'3335). In so doing, Tyco nius makes a further point, namely, chat the Law itself perdu res, continuous from the era of the Old Testamen t past to the era of the New, in che present. Christ, he said, had taken the Law, originally revealed solely co Israel, and made it available to all peoples. In o ther words, the d iffe rence between these rwo historically d istinct dispensations was only one of '(measure"' (modo), not of kind (genere;

Book of Rtdes 3,9). The same Law was given, the fi rst rime ro Israel, the second time to the nations.6 By so defining his terms, Tyconius established the biblical identity of t hose within t he presen t-day church: They stood in rhe spiritual line of Abraham, continuous fro m Isaac doY.'ll to contemporary times. ("This line has never been b roken," he asserts; &ok ofRt~les 3,2). Bur by chis same argument T}•conius also established the historical iden tity of JsraeL The significance of the righteous within Israel was not chat they fores hadowed or represented types or figures of che future chu rch. Rather, it was their historical integrity as witnesses co faith that an· chored the church in che Jsraelite past, creating a contin uous communiry of the redeemed (3,9).

Commenting on this salvatio n history, Tyconius raised a crucial question. If God had predestined rhe saved by h is promise to Abraham (they were Abraham's line "according to the spirit"), why then had he later, in Moses' day, given the Law a t all (Book of R11ks 3,4)> What did t he Law have to do \lith a redemption rhat, lo ng befo re, had ah·ead)• been securely p romised ? And how could th e Law confer any contin uing be nefir now that Christ had come? Tyconius un ta ngled th ese questio ns in his handbook•s Rule 3, •'on t he Promises and t he law." Turning precisely to those cwo letters in which Paul had seemed most harsh in his assessment o f t he Law. Galatians a nd Romans. l)•conius u rged ch at t he Law had always played a crucial role, and indeed that it co n tinues to pia)' a positive role in rh is divine process o f salvation. The Law was noth ing less. he said, than God 's instru ment t hrough which he led t he pious, in both biblical eras. to faith. How so? God , said Tyconiusl knew t hat he had given a Law tha t no o ne could possib ly fulfill. And God also knew t hat people would know ch is as well The t ruly pious individual) however, would realize that God wou ld never lem•e h uman ity in such a desperate sicuation wit hout a remedy. The thinking person who realizes that humanity cannot possibly fulfill t he Law . . . and yer who fails to understand that rh ere is a life-giving remedy [namely, fairh], is nothing Jess than pet·verse and blasphemous. It is simply nor possible char the good God, knowing thar the l aw could not be fulfilled, would hav~ provided noorher access ro life . . . . Faith cannot to lerate such a t hought. or evtn allow it .. . for fai th knows char rhe Lo1·d is good and just. HOOK 01: IWJ.IiS

J,S

This conviction about God's moral character, this confidence both in d ivine justice and in d ivine mercy1 said Tyconius) d efined pious faith. Such an affirmation was itself the faich ful respo nse to the fear a nd fr ustra tion caused by a person's invariably disheartening f.U iures wit h rhe Lmv. To make demands o f h is creatures that he already knew t hey could nor meet would be perverse. But God was not pe rverse. God was both good a nd just. T he p ious, affirming their fai th (that is, their

162 • AUOUST J Nl! ANI> T l.. E JEWS

confidence) in God's goodness, were and a re accordingly moved to rurn toward God and co implore his help. Harkening to them, God g ives such people the g race to do o ut of love what they had n·ied , and failed >co do our o f fear, namely, to be truly righteous under t h e Law. In other words, like a ha rsh school-slave sternly delivering young stu · dents to their master, "the Law . .. drove people toward fai th" (Book of Rules 3,8; an a llusio n to Galatian s 3:24: "The Law was o ur paklagOgos until Christ came"}. "For rh e righteous, the Law does not \Vork \vrac:h, but rather it exercises their fait h" (Book of Rules 3,19). Lex fidei d"non· stmtrix: "The Law points the way to f.tith" (3,9). God, of course, had al\\•ays foreseen the fait h o f his elect. That was rhe basis o n wh ich, observed T:vconius, he had made his pron1ise to Abraham. And since divine fo reknowledge is pe rfect and inerran t, God's promise o f salvation, like his knowledge of who would be saved, was a bsolutely secure. \Vhar then o f th ose instances in scripture that speak as if the promise were contingent o r co ndit io nal (as, fo r exam ple, at Isaiah 1:19: "ifyou obey me a nd a re willing")? In such places, Tyco nius explained , God was actually ad dressing those \vho were within rh e co mmu nity o f the saved but not of it. That is, God uses such lan guage when addressing "th e impious and sinners" (Book of Rules 3,18; Tyconius' in sistence thar Israel and, subsequently, the church had always been a mixed body of sinners a nd saints is whar had earned him t he censure o f his own Donatist commun ity). Why would God say "if you hear me" when he inerrandy knew {even before he made rhe individ uals in question) t he ident ity o f those who would hear him (3,18)? Clearly, said Tyconlus, in such places> God must be addressing the sinners. Divine foreknowledge> Tyconius fu rther insists> does not caus.e the foresee n faith of rh e saved. Rarh er>such faith was their own accom· plishment, achieved through t:hei r 0 " 11 free will. This faith precedes t heir recept ion of the g race that enables them to fulfill t he Law o ut of love (Book ofRules 3,16-20). That grace, however, is purely a gift. Therefore, Tyco nius concludes, t he faithfu l give glory to God p recisely fo r ch is g race, knowing that "'we have nothing chat we did not fi rst receive'' (3,11; a n aBusion ro Paul in J Corin thians 47: "'Wha t do we have ch ar we did not fi rst receive?"). Tyconius' reading o f Paul integrated the Law in a very positive way

in to the p rocess o f sa]vation. He thus provided Augustine with a nother strong argument against the Manichees' rejection of t he Old Testamen t and their demeaning assessment of the O ld Tescament'"s god. Furthermore, by insisting that divine election reseed o n God's fo reknowledge o f freely chosen faith, T)>conius suggested to Augustine a reading of Paul against Manichaean determinism that acknowledged an d indeed depended on hu man moral au tonomy. An d finally, by insisting t hat the dynamics of Law and f.1.ith >will a nd g race were constan t across nations> times. and individuals, from Abraham to jacob to David to rhe apostles and o n into the present life o f the church, Tyconius d isclosed in the entire doub le canon of scripture a cont inuous an d consistent reco rd of God's saving acts in history. T)>conius' Book of Rules helped Augustine to fi nd a way out of the impasse that he had come to in h is own struggle to make sense o f Pa ul's letters. Adopting and adapting h is arguments, Augustine in 394 began co work directly o n Roman s. Caut iously co mmen ti ng o n Romans po ("No Aesh will be justified before h im IGod) by the Law, for t hrough the La\v comes knowledge of sin"), Augustine war ned1 "Such statements must be read with g reat care, so that the apostle seems neit her to condemn t he Law nor to take a\vay the free exercise of human \viii" (Notes 011 Roma11s J} - JS .J) To this end, Augustine applied ro Paul's episd e a fo urfold scheme o f salvation history: prior to th e Law (ante

legem), under the Law (SJ•b lege), under grace (sub gmtia), a nd in peace (in pace)J Anr.e legem we pu t·sue fleshI)' concupiscence~ sub lege we are pulled by h; sub gntria we neither pursue nor are pulled by it~ m pace t here is no concupiscence of rhe fles h . . . . T hus [under grace) \1/e srill have desires, bur since we do nor obey rh em, we do not allow sin co reign in us. T hese desires arise from t he morra.Hty of rhe flesh, which \'le bear from rhe first sin of rhe fitsr man, whence we a.l'e born fleshI)' [c.anuJiter: by rhis) Augusdne intends a moral quality of rh< soul as well as a phySJCal qualicy of rhe body]. T hey will nor cease saw a r the resurrecrion of rhe body, when we will have mertred t har cransformanon protmsed co us. Then rhet•e will be perfecr peace, when we are established in t he fourrh stage. NOT'£.'> O.V HOMMi$ l j- 18.2,1 0

J6.i

·AUGUSTI NE ,\N'D TJ-1: 10 J IOWS

As we have seen Augustine do earlier, correlating seven world ages with biblical time periods a nd with the stages of an individual life (GetJesis t1g.1inst the Mallichees; see p. l35 above), so he does again wir.h this fourfold model here. Universal h istory is framed by bib lical rer· minals, h u man ity before Israel ("'prior ro rhe Law,.) to o ne ed ge> the Second Coming ("in peace") to the oth er. The incar nation thus stands ar an d as the hinge o f h istory, turning human ity's pathwa}' from God's revelation ro Jsrael ('"under the Law") ro God's revelation in Christ ("under g race"). Bur, again like Tyco nius, Augustine also ho lds that the process o f salvation is bo th linear and inrerior. The individual repeats in min iature what all h umanity lives co mmu nally, sharing the same beginn ing and end poin ts: Adam at one end; eschatological transforma tion in Christ at the other. Augustine had already experimented with such a fourfold perio dization of time at some poinr prio r to Not.es on Romam, in rhe cour se commenting on Jesus' feeding of the crowd of 5,000 (John 6:9-13; cf. Matthew 1.4'15-21). The five barley loaves rhar Jesus blessed o n rhar occasion, Augustine explained in q uestion 6t of his On Variosu Qtu!st:Wm., stand for the Five Books of Moses. These five loaves/books nourished this Jewish c rowd because they were not yet spiritual bur still "caJnal/' that is, t hey still were Living acco rd ing to the five senses 1 and so o n (question 61.1). The notice in Matthew 14:16 thac t his crowd had been following Jesus fo r rhree days chen prompted Augustine to remark that the fu ll span o f human h istory d ivides into three time periods (tempot-a), which he designated ante le§.'m, st~b lege, and sub gratia. A fourth time, he co ntinued here, refers to the eschatological peace of the heavenly Jerusalem (question Gq). This correla tes to the fourrh stage (ill p.1ce}, which he later speaks of in Notes 011 Romam. This earlier essay on the m iracle o f t he loaves and fishes seems primaril)' a t)'pological exercise in biblical n umber symbolism, wherein Augustine spins correlations between n u merals, quantities, and events in the Old Testament and rhe New with dizzying ease. Ancient Christians loved and valued this sort o f interpretation: lts ingenuity delighted them, irs flexi bility helped them to establish the ways in which the "true"' and "deeper" meaning of Old Testament figu res v.ras revealed in the New. (Pagans and Jews in antiqu ity valued and savored

this n umero logical and symbolic style of reading no less, when the)' a pplied it fo r t heir own reasons to their own texts.) Thus, as Augustine continues to comment o n jesus• miraculous feeding o f t he crowds, he notes that th e twelve baskets o f leftovers after th e meal co rrespond to the twelve aposdes (question 61.3), that a second crowd fed wit h seven loaves refers to the seven gifts of the Ho ly Spiri t (questio n 6q ), t hat t he two fish relate to t he two o ffices t hat the Old Law designated t hro ugh a noin ting-namely t hose o f p riest and prophet (question 6q), and so on. In b rief, t he idea o f rhe rhree (or four) periods as Augustine fi rst fo rmulates it in questio n 61 is less abou t rime and history-despite his use of th e term "rime periods'' (tempor,t)-than it is about associating numbers and s~·mbols across the O ld Testament/ New Testament divide. Once Augustine turned to Ro mans, however, the scheme of t he fo ur srages (gradus) helped him to read more closely and to t hin k more creatively abou t the interpretive challenges of chat letter, especiaUy t hose of Ro mans 7 a nd 9· At this sligh tly later poin t, the scheme p rovided a dynamic scaffolding fo r his rhoughts o n the relationship bet\veen Law and grace, election and free wi l~ and thus for his developing ideas on the process of conversion. This was so beca use, when applied nor onl)' historically and communally but also b iographically and, t herefo re, individually, t his fourstage scheme heightened the drama of salvation. Hisroq~'s tur n ing point1 the coming of Christ, moved humanity from "un der t he Law" to "under grace." Bu t th is transition became much more acute and dram atic when config u red individually. A single person's spir irual develo pment also pivoted upon the crucial move from stage two to stage three. This change was less a transitio n or a process that an event: t he mo n1enr o f co nversion. How does an individual move from condemnatio n to redemption? This dramatic, individualized story o rients Augustine's readjng in Not-es tm Rornam. He saw in Romans 7:15-16 a description of th e moral torque suffered by t he person constit uted un der t he Law: "') do not want to do what I do~ but what J hate, this I do. Jf, moreover, I do what I do not want to do, I agree that th e Law is good." "One must take care,'' Augustine cautions, "lest he th ink t hat t hese words deny free

166 ·AUGUSTI NE ,\N'D THIO J I:WS

wi l~

for it is not so" (Notes on Romans 44.1). The key to effecting this

rransition from Law (which can only instruct the sinner o n what he

should do, but cannot help him to do it)

to

g race (which enables the

man to do as he knows he should) lies precisely, says Augusrine, in rhe free exercise o f that individual's will. Insufficient to prevent him from sinning, man's free v.~ll does suffice to prompt him to rurn in

fai th to Christ in order to implore divine aid. "Thro ugh his free will man has a means to believe in the Liberator and to receive g race so

chat ... he might cease to sin" (44.3)· Receiving grace o n account of his faith that Chrisr will help him, man then moves sub gratia. The mocor of this movement is rhe will. Bur Paul's letter to the Romans contained passages extremely difficulr ro reco ncile with a strong view of man's moral freedom. \Xlhat about God's cho ice o f Jacob over Esau, before either had been born? This episode, Augustine admits) "moves some people to think that the

apostle Paul has done away with the freedom of the will" (Notes 011 Ro· mans 60.2; Romans 9:11-13). \Vhar abo ut Pharaoh: How much free choice did he have, once God hardened his heart? (Notes on R.omm1s 62.1-7; Ro mans 9:1 7). And how just was God whether in hating Esau o r in punishing Pharaoh, if the unborn Esau had done nothing yet and the hardened Pharaoh had had no free choice? Here Augustine of necessity must cornplicate his o riginal presentation. Man, he suddenly nores, cannot actually will at aJI- not even to

ask Christ fo r help-unless God has called him first. Clearly, neither Esau nor Pharaoh willed r ig hd)'· Did that imply that God had not called them? But if God condemned them when he alone had decided not to call them, he would be unjust, essentially punishing these men for the consequences of his own divine decision. Jn his effort to follow Paul closely, Augustine seems to have painted himself into a corner.

j ust preceding this j uncture, Augustine had adduced a line from the Gospel of Matthew and a key argum ent from Tyco nius' Book of Rttl~s. "Many are called, bur few are chosen'' (Notes on Romans )j.l - 2 ; Matthew 22:14). God justly distinguishes between those whom he (merely) calls and those whom he (actually) chooses, Augustine now explains, according to his inerrant foreknowledge, "by which he knO\vs the character even o f the unborn" (Notes on Romans 60.4). Foreknow-

ing t he movements o f rhe hu man heart, God graciously calls t he elect,

sub lege. They wanr not rosin but t hey are unable to sto p sin ning. God calls to ch is who at this point still languis h as sinners in stage

t\V01

group "according to h is purpose;' specifically, his purpose of election (55·5}. The elect, receiving ch is call, then respond autonomously-just as God had fo reseen they would-with a "good will." T heir good wiJJ then p rompts t hem, stiJJ mb lege, to tum in faith to Christ for help. At this point they receive g race again, a second rinH~, t h rough the Ho ly Spirit, which enables them to do good works. They can thus fulfiJJ rhe

Law thro ugh love. Once this occurs, rh e elect fi nally stand sub gr.1tia) in the th ird stage, able not to sin. This is a fatigu ing amount of qualifica tion: Augustine in effect has in trod uced a doub le loop in to h is a rgument. An entire back·and-fo rrh cycle o f d ivine fo reknowledge a nd human p redisposition now prefaces the sinner's calling out to C hrist for help. Why so complicated? Augustine was t rying to accommodate his idea o f free will and election to yet another d ifficult Pauline passage in Romans9. Right a fter Paul had decla red that God loved jaco b but hated Esau when both were still in t he womb, he had contin ued: Wha r chen shaH we say? Is rhere injusnce on God's parr? God fo rbid! For he s.a}'S co Moses, .;;[ wiU have mercy on whom I will

[alreadyJ have had mercy, and I \\~ll show him compassion upon who m I will [alreadyJ haw had compassion'' (Exodus 33!19). So it depends nor on man 's willing or running, buc on God>s mercy.

For rhe scriprure says co Pharaoh, " I have raised you up for this very purpose of showmg my power in you, so char my name may be proclaimed 111 all rhe eanh" (Exodus 9:13). So he has mercy on who mever he will and he hardens whomever he will.

The sequence of tenses in Augustine's La tin text-a fu t ure ('rl \Viii have mercy") a nd a fu ture perfec~ that is, a future form of a past tense ("I wiJJ have had mercy")-informs the double loop o f h is interpretation here. T he past an ion ("'I will have had mercy"), Augustine explains, occurred when God g raciously ca lled our, th e fi rst rime, to

168 · AllGUSTII'-t! ANO TUI! J l!WS

rhese people even t hough rhey were still sinners. He called them "according co his pur pose,'' because he knew a bsolutely and inerrantly th at they would freely respond ro his call wit h the "good will" of faith. Augustine, borrowing from T),.conius for this idea, thus concludes fi dem elegit in pmescientia, "(God] chooses fairh th ro ugh his fore knowledge" (Notes on Romam 6o.u). The fu ture action ("I will have mercy") 4

rhen follows. ''I will have mercy,).! he says, "on whom I wtll have had mercy." God was merciful ro us che fit·sr time \\rhen he called us when we \\J-ere sti11 sinners. ''On whonl r will have had mercy,).! he 5a}IS, "so t hat I called hhn /' and still '' I \Vt11 have merq1on him" yet again once t he man has believed. Yer how does God show mei'C)' this second time? He gives co the beJieving seekel' rhe Holy Spirir. NOH<S ON ROMAN$

6 r.1- J

Paul's line in Romans 9:16-"lt (that is, elecrion] d epends nor o n man's willing or run n ing buc o n God's mercy"-had risked rnaking God seem arbitrary and hu man moral effort seem otiose. But God is just, Augustine insists~ because he lkJes distinguish between sinners1 and he does so o n account o f his fo reknowledge of their futu re meri ts. God also does so beca use. to be just1he must do so. "Jf he does not choose accord ing to meri t/' says Augustine. "it is not election, for aU are equal prior to merit 1 a nd no choice can be made between ab solutely equal things" (Notes Oil Roman.< 6o.8). A person's fore kno""' "good will" rhat occasions God's cal l is thus the completely independent moral accomplish ment of t he elect. By preserving chis t hin sliver of hum an initiative-the elected sin ner's response to God's call-Au· guscine like\vise p reserved God's justice. Augustine's "reconstruction" of t his d ivine-hu man interaction, when the person hovers o n ch e cusp of the transition from Law to g race, srage two to stage threeJ provided a morally coherent explanation of and reason for divine discrimination. God saves th e elect because they deserve to be saved. They deserve ro be saved because the)' freely will t heir fait h, which God perfectly foreknows. This freely willed IiLit h is what d istinguishes rhe saved

Th~ Conm!rl · 169

frmn the reprobate. Rdes inc/mat m£>1·itum. Faith. concludes Augustine) initiates the distinction of merit (62.9}.

••• AUGUS TINE's soLUTION co che problem of h uman freedom and divine election in his Notes on Romans was, as we have just seen, complex. It was also fragile, and he seemed to know this. \Vhen he undertook a fo rmal co mmentary o n the letter, its prospective scale discouraged him, and he quit. lvfcanwhile, staying wit hin t he basic framework p roposed in Notes 011 Ronums, he continued filling in details-and generating more and more o f t hem-in shorter stud ies o f t hese d ifficult pa.o;sages. ln question 66, again investigating Romans 7, he sketched his fo ur stages (identified this time as actitmes, "proceedings"'), once more affirming the Law's essential goodness d espite its entanglement in sin and deat h. This constellation of issues-sin_, death, the Law-brough t him back to Adam and to the conseq uences o f Adam's d isobed ience fo r t he rest o f the race. Conscious) as ever, of the use t hat t he Manichees had made o f t his chapter o f Paul's, Augustine was especially sensitive to several p roblems wit h his own descriprion o f Adam 's sin and humanity's subseq uent sinfulness. He did not wan t to associate sin excessively with Aesh: That wo uld play coo much in to t he Manichees' d ualist materialism and n1oral determinism. (Paul's own language, of course, did not make chis effo rt any easier for him.) lt must be t he will, an aspect o f soul, that plays the crucial part in sinning. Buc Augustine also did not wane to sound too much as if a damaged soul~ o n the analogy of the Aeshly body, were somehow in herited from Adam: That too m ight play roo much into Manichaean materialism. Souls must be purely spirit, and spirit is not like mat ter, nor does it behave like matter: lt is not Inheri ted. passed o n from one generatio n to t he next in t he way t hat Aesh is. And finally there was t he more general problem o f ho lding d ivine justice to at least as high a standard as human justice. No h u man judge co uld justly punish o ne person fo r the cri me o f another. How t hen could God justly p unish those yet unborn fo r t he sin o f a distant ancestor?

170 • AUOUSTlNl! AND T I-t I! JEWS

Augustine attempts to square these circles in questio n 66.3 by introd ucing ch e concept of h uman "nature" and b)' associat ing this nature with Adam in a part icular way. Afcer Adam•s fall> he says) every later person was bo rn with a body ch a t \Vas mortal a nd with a nature t hat \Vas "'carnal." Humanity suf fered ch is condition beca use in Adam

natura nosbet pecc.avit ("our nat ure sinned"). Here Augustine has to d istinguish carefully between c.aroJ ••flesh,'' and qualitas carnalis, •'carnal character." Flesh is a material substrat u m, created good by the good God. Car nal character is a negative moral quality and descriptive primaril),. of ch e sinner's soul, which after Adam easily inclines toward sin, forming bad hab its. When a person is constit uted in stage three, sub gratia, h is flesh is stiiJ mortal, but h is soul, through grace, has been released fro m its carnal character. In this way> he can be said to have "died to sin" (question 66.1-2; 6). Narum nostra} th e vague "hu man narure," a ppears primarily in this conrext to d eAect the threat to God's justice posed by h is punishing all humanity for Adam•s transgression. Augustine reasons that a ll humanjty-the "we'' of the La tin nostra, .. our"-musc somehow have participated in Adam's sin: That way, his sin was "ou r" sin, and "we·" sinned when he sinned. Beca use Adam was the primal parent (of Eve also, according to Genesis 2, as well as of all later generations)) aU humanity. argues Augusti ne, was somehow, actually, hiscorically, really "in"' h im.8 Humans, in chis view, live a sore o f d ouble life, one distant and agg regate, o ne p roximate and individual. Everyone already existed in Adam (the distant historical mode), a nd each exists individually as a discrete person (the proximate historical mode). T his distant/ proxi· 1n ate structu re, invoked already by Augustine back in 392 in h is debate with Fortunatus to explain why souls sin (Against Forttmatu.s 22: see pp. 146-147 above) is summed up by the word IJdtl-lre h ere. In its d istan t, collective aspect, nature safeguards d ivine justice. All were present in Eden~ therefore, all are justly punished. Forensic necessity required t hat Augustine assert the historical or rea] or actual aspect of that d istant collective life: The en tire race1 in ch is view, truly was present "in" Adam. And this h istorical realism in rurn gives the measure o f how far Augustine's thinking o n Genesis had changed since j88-J89, when

Tbe Cofl vtrt •

17 1

"Adam" had served primarily as a S)'mbol for "mind'' (Genesis against tbe Ma11idrees 1.19,30). Augustine's t hin ki ng on h uman moral au tonomy also became more complex du ri ng this same period. Free Will, a n·ea rise star ted in Rome and completed back in Norrh Africa, changes noticeably in style, tone, and substance between book one (begun in 388) and book three (fin ished in 395). In t he course of his work o n Romans, as we have seen, Augustine had had to assert repeatedly t hat Paul nowhere impugned man•s moral a utonomy. Having defended free choice in these Pauline writings only obliquely, Augustine now a pplied h imself directly to the issue by resuming rh is long inrerrupted work. Augustine had o riginal!)' conceived and writ ten Free V;ti/J as a philosophical dialogue between himself a nd Evodius, one of his for· mer students. In book one, a synopsis of the views held at Cassici acum, Augustine had been un blushingly optimistic about the effectiveness of h uman wilL He repeated his usual a rgument on t he necessity of u ncoerced choice: tvtan sins beca use he \Van ts to sin, or else God would not be just in pun ishing sinners. \'1/ hy does man make bad moral choices? Because he strays fi·om lea rning (discipli11a). "Hence to do evil is nothing buc co stray from education" (Ftw Wi/J 1.1,2). But when man wills rightly, in accordance with d ivine law, he accrues merit (1.14,30), and ultimately achieves t he happy life. "Whoever wishes to live rightly and honorably," Augustine concluded, "and prefe rs t hat to all transient goods, artains h is object with perfect ease. To reach it, he has onl)' to \1111 it" (u3,29). Sometime after his ordination as p riest at Hi ppo in 391 but before h is elevation as bishop in 396, Augustine wrote books two and t hree (Retmctatiom 1.9(8],1). His d iscussion from the midway poin t of book two probably dates toward the end of that period. Near t he conclusion of book t\vo, where Augustine struggled to understand the root reason why an uncoerced will would t u rn from what is good, the optimism o f his earlier chapters fades considerably; and Evodius, his quondam partner in the dialogue, virtually disappears. In what becomes a somber monologue, Augustine no\v p resents a p icture of man in t1ia, "on th e road" in chis life, at risk of wandering off t he path inro darkness because of his weakness (Free Will 2.16,41). The sense of fore bod· 4

4

ing continues to build in book rhree. l\·fan sins, Augustine explains rhere, because his loves are misordered. Carnal custom (comuetudo) deflects his control of his desires and affections. The penal condition of ignorance and difficulty-.A.dam•s parrimony-retards man's progress 61,23: 18,52). ..IOese rhemes are not new. Augustine had sounded all of them in his earlier notes on Paul. There, however, they had been woven into the essentially o ptimistic pattern of salvation history. In book three of Free W'illJ these elemenrs are sraric; o r) rarher, they pile on top o f each o ther as Augustine builds his description of the sheer extremity of man•s situation. Mortality and habit weigh man d own; his own sins co mpound rhe inherited penalties of ignorance and d ifficulty. He moves in a situation of acute danger, through intense darkness, trying to keep his gaze riveted o n rhe bright, distam ligh t of Christ while the nigh t presses in o n all sides and rhe Devil hovers near to hand (Ftve \Viii J20,jj-j6; ).24,71-1),76). Fear of hell, rather rhan adherence to educa· tionJ keeps him o n the right road. "If any suggesrion springing from a d esire for the inferio r should deflect o ur purpose)"' Augustine condudes, "erernal damnation and the torments of the Devil will recaJi us ro the true path" ().25,76). The lambent certainties of Milan, Cassiciacum, and Rome seem long gone.

•• • had come tO Carthage back in 371 originally to pursue a career in law. Had he con tinued o n rhat course, he \vould have spent his in tellectual gifts crafting verbally brilliant argumen ts and mastering the intricacies of late Roman litigation. Instead, after discovering philosophy via Cicero, he gave himself over to "the pursuit of wisdom'• while turning to the stud)' of rhetoric. Lacer, in Milan, his rounds of reaching as a municipal professor \vere p uncruated by command performances-more verbal pyrocechnics-before rhe imperial courr, lauding its programs and policies and praising the emperor. Like his forsaken career, his chosen o ne also relied upo n ceaseless efforcs to cultivate useful connections and powerful patrons. Between times, Augustine attempted to launch himself as a culc-ured writer, conceiving trearises o n lear ned topics (rhetoric, aestherics, liberal arts). THE \'OUNO A UOUST I NE

Tl'~ Convtrl · 173

Talented >ambitious-or as he rnemorably put it, "all hot fo r money) honors, marriage'' (Confossiom 6.6,9)-Augustine aimed ultimately to secure a post in rhe imperial governmen t. His life, wlth all h is hopes and all h is fears, was relendessly public. Once he resigned his posr and committed himself to baptism> celibacy, and Christian otium liberale in the fall and winter of JSG-387, Augustine p robab ly thought t hat he had left all that behind. His unexpected conscription imo Hippo's clergy after nearly four }"ears o f such retirement came as a shock. As he assurned h is new d u ties, he would have found h imself o nce again perfo rming in pub lic) teaching classes {for catechumens), exploring and explaining rhe meaning o f texts (in sermons to co ngregations and in smaller seminars to fellow clergy), delivering fo rmal and polished add resses (to elevated ecclesiasticaJ assemblies), a nd estabUshing networks wirh po\\'erful and more established men (the more senior bishops of his own province, and es· pecia.lly with Aurelius, b ishop o f Carthage). Between times, Augustine lau nched h imself as a Christian "public intellectual," composing com· menraries on the Bible and learned polern ical pieces against the ene· mies o f his ch urch. Part of rh e shock of h is t ransition in 391 would have stemmed fi·om his necessary adjustm ent from a contemplative literary rerirernent to the rough -and-ru mble of North African church life. Bu t parr would hm•e been the shock o f the familiar: A d iffe rent versio n o f h is old life had fou nd h im again.9 A voice from h is past, from the q uiet life that o rdination had wrested from him, came to Augustine in a letter t hat he recei\•ed sometime in 396. A decade earlier, exhausted by h is ambitions a nd exhilarated by h is tandem study o f Neoplaro nism and Chr isdan scripture) Augustine had sought the guidance ofSimplicianus) a senio r priest in M ilan. "I wanred to consult with h im abour my problems," Augustine later wrote of t his moment in the Confossiom_, "so chat he rn ight suggest a way fitted to someone in m)' troubled state whereby I could learn co walk in your (God's] way" (Gmfossiom 8.1,1). Simplicianus had Augustine's measure. He related the story o f the conversion an d baptism of the Roman rhetor Ma rius Victorious, whose t ra nslations o f pagan Plaronists Augustine had been reading. Augustine in t urn (though perhaps only rerrospectively) had Simplician us' measure. "As

174 • AUGUSTlSl! AND THf! JEWS

soon as your servan t Simplicianus told me this story of Victorious, l was o n fire to imitate him-which was, indeed, why Simplician us had rold me" (S.j,JO). Simplicianus more recently had encountered some of Augustine's works of biblical in terpretation, a nd he now wrote with questions, some o n O ld Testament texrs, some on the perennially thorn)' passages in Romans 7 an d 9· His letter does not survive, but Augustine's affectionate response d oes. Adm irting freely that he has toiled over th ese verses a nd had g reat difficulty with t hem, Augustine shouldered Simplician us' request to consider them yet again (Letter 37-2-J). Sho rtly th ereafter, Augustine produced the fi rst work ofhis episcopacy, To Sim 4

plicianus. Question l o f that treatise) which t reats Romans 7:7- 25, essentially recapitu lated t he major points of Notes on R.ornans 28-38 a nd of question 66, though without d irectly mentioning the fou r stages of salvation history. Augustine's comments here conform to h is earlier d escriptions of man's condition mb lege and sub KJ'atia. He affirms the goodness o f the La\v against t he Manichees (To Simplicimw.s l. l 1J6). He explains man's carnality by appeal co Adam's sin (peccatum origilklle here-nor "original sin '' in the later Augustin ian sense but rather "the fi rst sin" or "the sin fro m man's o rigins"; u ,to-u). And he repeats h is a.ssertion that th e movement from sin co grace depen ds o n man's freely willed faith (u,6; u; q).~ Q uestion 2 returned Augustine co Romans 9:10 - 29, Paul's discussio n o f God's sovereign will acting in history. Regretting t he passage's o bscuri ty, Augustine slllnmarized the purpose of Paul's entire letter, which he said he would take as h is guide: No man should glory in the works of the Law) because good works are done only thro ugh fai th, received by g race. Faith depe nds o n first receiving God 's call; no o ne can believe who has not first been called (To Sim·

pliciauus 1.1)2). [f this is so, t hen how can God justly elect: o nly some people and not others? The case ofj acob a nd Esa u, o nce again, p uc the q uestio n

most acutely: Neirher had been born, so neit her had yec done anyt hing to merit either fare. The problem of jacob's prenatal election and Esau's p renatal rejectio n thus caJied into question che justice o f

Tlu Crmverl · 17.5

God. "How can election be just-indeed> how can there be afl)' sort o f choice at all-when there is no difference?" (To Simplicianu.s 1.1 ,.4). Thus far Augustine was on familiar ground. This is p recisely t he poinr in h is prior discussions of Roman s 9 where he had ap plied h is adapracion o f Tyconius• solution: God elects on the basis of his fo reknowled ge of man's [fu tu re] good will, and the faithful response to his call (Notes 011 Romans 60.4; u; Ot1 Various Questims 68.4). T his appeal to divine fo rek nowledge preserved a space fo r h uman initiarive in t he process of redemption, thereby protecting as well the moral coherence o f God's choices. Buc upon reaching this same po int when responding to Simplicianus, Augustine-suddenly, sur prisingly, unequivocaJiy-rejects fore knowled ge and d ismandes the solu tion to t he problem o f election that h e had so painstakingly worked out such a shore time befo re. "If electio n is by fo reknowledge. and God fore knew jacob's fairh, how wou]d you prove that he did not elect him fo r h is works? .. . Before Jacob and Esau were born rh ey had neither fai th nor works ... . \Ve still have to inquire, t hen, why t hat choice was made" (To Simpli-

ci.amu 1.2,5). This is a good momen t to step back from Augustine's argument and instead ro imagine Augustine as he was in t he process of fram ing it. Augustine o f course was not "writing" his response to Simplicianus. He was dicta ting it. (\X'riting in a nt iquity was a specialized technology. Ancient "writers" usuaJiy d ictated co scribes, reviewing and polishing t heir product la ter, before putting it into circulat io n.) The circumstan ces of this ki nd of composition are readily apparent in To Simpli· ciamu1 o ne of the most vivid, and vividJy oral, o f all of Augustine's works. From this point o n, o nce he has ruled out divine forek nowledge when co nsidering jacob and EsauJ his cone seems to a1ternace between excitement and urgenc)r as he boxes himself in to various in terpretive corners a nd fights his wa)' back o ut again. Kinetic, repetitious, fatiguingly dialectical: To ShnpliciamJs enables u.s co overhear Au gustine as he (literally) thinks o ut loud. We witness, by following h im, the birth o f an idea. Augustine's decision to rule out d ivine fore knowledge as a factor in the process of election threw aH o f t he interlocking Pauline issues in to crisis. Absent fore knowledge of the twins' fu ture characters and

17{) · A UGUST! Nil ,\SD THIO JEWS

choices, on what grounds did God or could God d iscriminate between rhem fairly? Augustine still insists t hat something has to d istinguish ch ose whom God loves from those whom God hares: "No one is elected un less he is different from him who is rejected" {To Simpliciamts. 1.2,6}. But Augustine cannot now say what ch at diffe rence might be. \' t u rns freely to supplicate Christ and rh us receives grace in order to cease sinn ing (Notes on Ro-mans 55.J-5; see p. t67 a bove). The point> again>was to safeguard hu man moral a uron· omy- no matter how drastically reduced-as a way to safeguard God's justice. Now, however>Augustine sees t hese issues d iffe rently. His earlier interpretation seemed ro h im to imp ly> unacceptab ly, that t he predisposicion of human will actually deten nined God's proposito1 h is in tention. Bur man's freedom-even in the tiny} circumscribed arena of man's fu ture good \\ill-could nor be permined in any way to determine the action of God. To preserve divine sovereignty, Augustine now decided>the in itiative of co m•ersion must lie utterly outside the ind ividual. God h imself determines not onl)' who receives rhe abiliry sub gratia to fulfill the Law ("will power") b ut a lso, prior to this moment a nd in a sense creating it, God determines who will be predisposed to receive his call ("good will"). The good will does nor precede God's call, but God's call precedes even the good will The facr rhar \1/e have a good will at aJI is l'ighrly anribured co God, who calls us . . . . So rh e senrence, "[r is

The Cot1tJeY( · 177

not hun who wills or him who runs bur God who has mercY' ' cannot be taken simply ro mean chat we cannot attain what we wish wirhom the aid of God. Rather> \\~thour his fit·sc calling us>

we cannot ewn zvi/1. 1'0$1"-fl'liCIANUS 1.2,1:!

Restat ergo z,ooltmtates eliguntur. Man•s very wiliJ concludes Augustine>is itself chosen by God. Man does absolucely noth ing o n h is own to merit salvation. Divine decision, nor hu man disposition> determines the d iffe rence bet\veen the saved and the damned. The in itiative o f salvation rests exclusively and e ntirely wich God. What t hen of God's justice? Acco rd ing to what sta ndard does God make t hese choices? \Xih)' love jacob, why hate Esau, if absolutely nothing distinguishes them? In the face o f such absolu te divine p rerogative, ca n humans understand God•s justice at a ll? lndeed, on an)' normal understanding of t he word, can God be said to be •<just"? A short eighteen months or so earlier, in 394-395, working slowly t hrough the opening verses of Ro mans, Augustine had asked rhis same question (U11jinisbed CommetJtary• on Ronums9.1). At that point, he had argued that divine justice transcended hu man justice because God's merC)' so t ra nscended hu man mercy. God, argu ed Augustine in t his earlier com mentary, sent out the Holy Spirit everywhere to admonish people to repentance, so that sinners would repent and rhus be saved . In ligh t of God's great forbearance and the superabundance o f his g race, what then could possibly be the sin against the Holy Spirit that Christ said could never be fo rgiven (Matthew 12:31; Unjin· isbed Commentmyon l~omam q .2)? After a long review of great sinners, all of whom- even David the adulterer, even Pau] the persecutor-had received fo rgiveness o nce they repented, Augustine had co ncluded t hat the one unforgivable sin was despair: "cont inuing in wickedness a nd maliciousness with despair of the kindness and mercy (indulgentia) ofGod." If o ne despairs of being forgiven, she has no motivation to repent. If she does not repent) she cannot reform, a nd so she will continue to sin. To be d riven by this hopeless despair, said Augustine, is to profoundly m isundersta nd che amplitude of divine mercy, rhus th e divine generosity that abides with d ivine justice. Despa ir is ta ntamount

178 · AllGUSTII'-t! ANO TUI! Jl!WS

to resisting "the g race and peace of God,"' which is nothing o ther than rhe Spirir itself (U11ji11ished Commwtary 011 Romn>IS 22.3-4). But in 394, when he wrote those words, Augusrine had held that human in itiative played some role in man •s d ecision to repent o r not to repent. By 396, such inidative has disappeared: God's purposes. Augustine now believed, could never be contingent upon man's decision. Having excluded fai th as a grounds fo r meric, having attributed man 's good will itself to God's action, having obscu red any means co discern between o ne person and another, Augustine moved to redefine the only variable left in h is equation : the nature of God's call. If some people responded ro God's call and others did not, t hen rhe only explanation consistent with God•s absolute sovereignty, Augustine now argued, was rhat he d id not call everyone in che same way. Those wh om he elects he calls congntfflter, "effectively" o r "appropriately," so that t hey \1111 follow. Those whom he rejects he calls d iffe rently, so that they do not follow. The proof is tau tological. If God had chosen these people, he would have called them effectively, so that t hey would have followed. Since t hey did not follow, although they must have been caJied (a nod, here, to ~brthew 12:14 , "l\·1any are called, but few are chosen''), God must have caJled rhem, bur not congrumtet: God's a bsolute authori ty is rhus preserved beca use the init iative of salvation rests exclusively with hirn. "God has mercy on no man in vai n''

(To Simplicianus t.2,1J)." In short, God•s decision whether to have mercy o r to withhold it is absolutely and e nt irely his alo ne, unafTected by any independent predisposition o r merir on man's parr. Bur how can God make such determinations justly? At rhis point, Augustine turns ro Paul's image of the djvine porter and the hu man pots. You will say co me rh en, ···\X'hy rh en doe.s God sriJI find fault? Fo1· who can resisc his will?" Bur who are vou, 0 man 1 ro answer back '

co God? WHJ rhe molded rhing say ro its molder~ ••\Vh)' have )'OU made me like rhls?'' Has che poner no nghr over rhe day>ro make ouc of rhe same lump (c.tmsparsio] one vessel fo1· beauty and anQ[he1· for menial use? \Vhac if God, desiring co show his wrarh and ro make knmvn his power) has endu red wirh much parience

The Com·eYl · 179

t he vessels of wrarh made fo r desrruccion, in order co make known rhe riches of his glory fo r t he ve.s.sels of mercy, which he has p1·epared beforehand for glory, ewn us whom he has called, nor onl)' from rhe Jews bur also from rhe Genriles?

The Latin rerm here fo r chis lump of day, rh e companio from which God fas hions hu manity (Romans 9:21), had caughc Augustine's eye years before. in 394- Ar that point, he had associated the term with man's condition sub lege, "under the Law,"' when man did nor wan t to sin bur could not avoid it Using massa, a synonym fo r comparsio, Augustine had chen co n tinued with a simile. "As long as you a re a molded thing, says Paul, a nd you are like chis 'lu mp of clay' (massa /uti) . . . it behooves you . .. nor to answer back to God '' (Nows on Romans 62.19). In other \1/0rds, within rhis earlier co mmentary, the lump o f cia)' (nwsa lutr) was a symbol. lr stood fo r the carnal as peers of human moral character, man's earchly self, che "man o f clay" (bomo /uti), which the believer had to renounce before he could investigate spiri tuaJ rhings (Notes ott Ramans 62.q- 23). At some poinr shortly thereafterJ in h is next pass ar Romans 9, the lu mp o f clay (masand more h isroridz.ed.. Invoking Adam and fallen human nature (natura nosh'a·J which ''sinned in paradise,.), Augustine asserted that all humanity was formed fro m t his same lu mp of sin. Because o f their origins in chis sinful mass. people can have no merit u nless and until they turn from their earthly o rientation. Noli es$e i11tum: literally, "do not want to be clay"~ instead 1 become children of God (On \0riaus Questions 68.3). Still, Augustine had insisted then, when God does choose between people, even though all hu mans orig inate from ch is single sinful mass, he does so on the basis of what they deserve (meritis), "for Gocl•s will cannot be u njust ... an d there muse be some differe nces between them.'' Such merits a re discernible> however, only ro God . To other people} th ey a re occts.ltissimi) "mosc h idden" (question 68.4). Now, reviewing these verses again for Simplicianus, Augustine

J8o • AUOUST JNE AND T l-tE J EWS

makes more extreme h is own earlier appeal to the divine discernment of h idden merit in defense of God 's justice. He remrns here co his idea of t he massa pecca-ti. Because of the sin in the gard en, he repeats, all humanity shares in Adam•s o ffense against God and aJI are made from ch is same sin fu] clay. Everyone, he concludes, is bo rn deservi ng o nly condemnation. Nevertheless, Augustine insists, God 's judgments a re just-but not bec.ause God measures the differences in what people deserve (merits in both the negative and the posicive sense), no matcer how hidden rh ese might be. (Previou sly, he had insisted that measu ring merit was rh e o nly fair way to judge; Notes 011 Rornans 6o.8; also question 68.4, cited just above.) He now interprets the effecrs o f human ity's o rigins in the massa peccati to mean that no o ne is capable of having any sort of positive meri t whatsoever. God's justice has been preserved, rather, because in lig ht of humaniry>s universal sinfulness, God has con· demned absolu tely everybody. "Sinful hu manity must pay a debt of pun ishment co the supreme divine justice"' (To Simplicianus 1.2:,16). If God has co ndemned all human ity, and condemned all humanity rightly. a rgues Augustine (after all, everyone sin ned "in Adam,), chen no one can impure any unrighteousness to h im. Jndeed, the ubiquity of this condemnatio n displays God's rigorous fairness, h is irreproach· a ble justice. By leaving a man to h is deserved co ndemnation, Augustine adds, God does nor choose to do him harm; he simply d eclines to do him good (1.2,15-18). O f course, then, God "hated'' Esau- tho ugh not rhe man 1 Aug ustine explains carefully. God hares no ne o f h is c rearures1 "bur he ha tes Esau t he sinner" (ToSimplicianus. Ll,t8). Formed from the massa pecctlt~ Es.au was born condemned. Indeed) like all Adam•s progeny, Esau was already condemned when still in t he womb. In light o f his new constructio n of the penalty fo r Adam•s sin (universally and fai rly im posed by God), Augustine has shifted t he c hallenge to God's justice. The questio n is not, How is God just in condemn ing someone? Rather, in ligh t of his scrupulously just condemnatio n of a bsolutely everybody, the questio n becomes, How is God r ighteous in re.deerning a nyone? How could God juscly choose to show mercy to Jacob?

At rhis poin t, Augustine turns o nce again to Paul's image o f the potter wirh h is lump of clay. He u ndersra nds this image as a hisrorically descriptive merapho r for hu manity's accual condition >the massa

pt!Ccati, t he "lump of sin ." All human ity is

sha~d fro m this same sin-

gle mass. Bu t God is absolutely free ro decide how co use this mass> shap ing t he clay of h umanity to whatever vessels he \van ts> mak ing some as vessels "of wrath" mean t for destruction, some o thers as vessels '"of mercy.'' God is the potter. He owes man no explanation. And if man does nor like this, Augustine answers, q uoting Paul, "0 homo tn

quis es qui respondeas Deo? \Vho are you, 0 man, to answer back to God ?" (Romans 9:21; To Simplici.mtt.<1.2,18). This same verse, defending the absolu teness of d ivine prerogative by alluding to Paul's image of the po t challenging the potter, had been invoked years earlier, in 392>in t he course o f Augustine's p ublic d e bare with Fortunatus (see p. l)O above}. There, however> it had been the Man ichee who had quoted this passage. In a brief span o f d me, a mere fo ur years, Augustine had thought himself into a posit io n o n the h u-

rnan condition and the problem o f evil that was no less severe than Fortunatu s' had been. And his appeal ro Romans 9:20 in To Simpli-

ciamts signaled> as defin itively as had Fortunarus' appeal to t he same verse )rears earlier, th at Augustine had run o ut o f explanations in defense of his view of God. Man simply cannot understand God's justice> Augustine now insists. All he can do, if he would be p ious1 is aver (because: God must be just} rhatGod is just. Piety forbids him to question why God does what he does. Who is man anyway, chat God should explain h is reasons to him? Jn the mont hs bet\veen his a nswer in question 68 and h is answer in To Simplicianus, a change had occurred in what Augustine was content ro regard as un knowab le. Earlier, he had held chat h uman merits, whether positive o r negative, were " most h idden" (occultissimr; question 68-4). Now, he emphasizes thar d ivine justice, God's standard of fairness, is \vhar is ''most hidden" (ocmltis$i1t14t) and furthesr removed (n...

motissima) from h u man understanding: ''0 rnan, who are you ro answer back co God?'' A man ralks back ro God when he is displeased rhar God fi nds faul c wirh sinners, as

db · ,\lHiUST l NI! AN"l> TUll J EWS

if God compelled 3..11)' man rosin when he simply does nor besrow his justifying mercy on some sinners. Fo r char re.ason, he is said ro "ha!'den" some sinners-noc because he drives them rosin buc because he does nor havl! metC)' upon rhem. God decides whom ro wirhhold mercy from acco t•ding to a srandat•d of fairness whteh is most hidden and far removed fi·om rhe power of human understanding. ''Inscrutable are his JUdgmenrs, and his ways pasr finding our'' (Romans J 1::33). He finds faulr wirh sinners jusdy1 because he does nor compel rhem rosin. j usdy also he has mercy on some. TO Sl.lli'LICJANUS t.l.,J6

Auguscine, in shor~ had abandoned any t hought o f understa nd· ing God, or of clearly perceiving God, as a n exempla r ofjustice. God's justice could be affi rmed o nly by faith.

••• this landslide in Augustine's thought? Scholars have p roposed a numbe r of causes, whether literary, environmental, o r psychological. Perhaps some ocher commentary o n Romans had rad ically reoriented Augustine's reading of Paul's letter. Or perhaps t h is g reat change was th e cumulathre effect of his own reading and reread ing of Pa ul. Or pe rha ps the d ifficult working conditions of his new position in t he church had worn him down. O r perhaps he had become disillusioned with t he life that he thought he had won back in Milan: "Very possibly, it could not bear t he terrific weight of his own expecta rions of it. ,.,1J WHAT AccouNTS FOR

A ce rtain trist.esse lingers over many of these reconstru ctions. And indeed it is very difficult for most modern \\/estern readers to look a t Augustine's new understanding of Pa ul without seeing in it some sort of register of despair. Standing as we do to this side of the eighteenth century, o u r cult ural instincts have la rgely bee n formed and nurcured by the presu mptions of Renaissance h uman ism a nd of Enlightenment moraJ a u tonomy. A rheology that in sists rhat humans are completely (and "justly"!) powerless; that wholeness totally depe nds upon facto rs absolurely beyond one1s own influence 1 much less cont ro l;

The Crmvert · tSJ

that God is end lessly pu nitive and in all cases morally opaque: Such a theology can seem to us to inventory nothing other than the loss o f hope, the profound disillusio n ment, the g rowing melancholy of the theologian. The sheer energy and self-confidence that mark Augustine's life a nd work in the period immediately foUowing h is fo rmulation of t his new reading of Paul, however, overwhelm any diagnosis o f d isco uragementor despondency that the conclusion of To Simplickmus can so easily p rompt. lf Augustine's creativity and productivicy may be taken as evidence of h is morale, then he was a t his most tencarive a nd insecure d uring the earlie~ '(o ptimistic" phase of his priesth ood, when he still a rgued in defense of man's moral freedom and God 1s ethical t ransparency. Abandoned com1nencar ies, unfinished t reat ises) postpo ned books, transcripts of p rivate lectures, small essays: It d id not add u p to much. O nly after 396 did he become the man-and t he au thor-whom \Vestern culture knows as Augustine. The period of his early priesthood had ma rked our a six·y•ar-long jabbok for Augustine, a time when he wrestled with powerful angels: the text.~ of his Bible~ his view of the relation between the testaments~ his post-Manichaean , post-Mila nese beliefs about d ivine justice and human fi·eedom; his understanding- affected deeply by his study o f pagan Neoplatonists-of rhe ways that time relates to eternity) that history relates to script ure, and that th e hu ma n being (mind, soul, and body) relates to God. With astounding courage and sheer acuity, he rethought absolutely everything t hat he had come into t h is p hase of his life wit h. Even those earlier convictions that he d id keep were cransformed by the new perspective that he fi nally achieved in the early ye<>rs of h is episcopacy. Small wonder, then, that Augustine limped t hrough this period o f h is early priesthood. Bur unlike the biblical jacob (Genesis 32), he d id not lim p t hereafter. On the contrary: To Simplicia11u.s marked the beginn ing o f a li fetime of sustained and self-co nfide nt c reativity. The astonishing and astonishingly original umfrssions (c. 397-401). Thirty[hree authoritative books against Latin Manichaeism, Ag+~imt F+~ttsttes (a gmnde opt<S, as he called it; c. 398-400). A master work o n t he strength o f which alone he would have been esta blished as o ne of t he

1f4 ·AUGUST! Nil AS D TJ-1: 10 JEWS

greatest Larin f."he rs, Liwrallnterpmation ofGem,is (c. 401- 414). On the Tt·inity, yet another master work (c. 399- 419). And crowning it all, his magnum opusetards"'m, "a huge and difficult work," Cit:yofGod (c. 413427). Add co this an enormous body of sermons, letters, and lesser creadses. Five m illion words in alJ, only a fraction of which V.'l'itten before 396. This productivit)' was the equivalent, one of Augustine's biographers has calculated, of publishing a modern three-hundred-page print book every year fo r fo rty years.'J A straightforward construction of divine justice and of human freedom both fall victim to Augustine's agitated dialectic in 10 Sim· plicianus. But we will m iss whac Augustine has accomplished if weallow the gloom that can settle over us as we read his conclusion in chat work to shape our historical understanding of Augustine's life and tho ught at this transitional moment. \X'hat happened by 396 was that Augustine had finall)' fo und a way to understand his Bible coherently. Exegetically in his response to Simplicianus, philosophically and (in a sense) autobiographically in the g reat masterpiece that fo iJowed, his Umfossions, Augustine resolved a foundational dilemma of ancient biblical rheology. He bro ught the timeless, unchanging high god of philosophical paideia and the active, engaged chief personality of the Jewish Bible together into a single coherent whole. And the actions within time of chis timeless god, he insisted, were always just, whether humans understood his justice or not: This conviction constituted fides, "faith." By the first years of his episcopacy, in other words. Augustine had achieved a new understanding of God. Thar idea nourished him fo r rhe rest of his life. Understanding God and undemanding how to read the Bible was fo r Augustine one and the same project. To g rasp his theology, we need co g rasp his interpretatio ns of scripture. The crajecrory of his earlier work through Genesis and thro ugh Paul was o riented by his effort to conceive of a way to read scripture fld littaam, "according to irs
ology, the champion of grace, but also the Paul of salvation history, the embodiment of dramatic conversion, the man singularly chosen by God to effect history's transition from sub lege ro sub gr'fttia. Paul the persecutor. Paul the convert. Paul the aposde to the Genriles. And most surprising (as \Ve shall see)> Paul the jew> \~lho valued rhe Law and kept ir according to Jewish tradition not only before his conversion but also thereafte r. Paul ad Jitteram. How did Augustine find this Paul? The scriptural canon helped him. As a late-fourth-century catholic bishop> Augustine had man)' more sources ro draw on when constructing his picture of rhe historical Paul than most academic historians do now. Modern critical scholarship on New Testament texts has iden tified only seven letters as indispu tably Pauline: t Thessalonians, Philemon, Ph ilippians> 1 and 2 Corinthians, Galatians> and Romans. Scholars contest the status of 2 Thessalonians, of Ephesians, and of Colossians. (I number among those who think that these letters, which read like sermons, were written by later followers of Paul, nor by Paul himself.) Finn consensus sees 1 and 2 T imothy and T itus (the so-called pastoral epistles) as later, pseudonymous writings in an evolving Pauline tradition. Paul's authorship of Hebrews was challenged alread)' in antiquity; again, modern consensus regards it as an anonymous Christian sermon>not as a genuine letter of PauPs. As fo r Aces, its chronology conflicts with that of Paul's O\lm letters, and its biographical details about Paul often sir uncomfortably \Vith what aurobiographicaJ information we have fro m Paul himself. Historians use Acts fo r Paul \\~ch caution.',. Spared the educational advantages of modern scholars, Augustine could and did use aJI of chis materiaJ when constructing rhe Paul oflare Latin theological tradition, whom he narurally assumed to be the Paul of history as well. T hus, in the 390s, we see him beginning to chink about Paul's li fe as \Veil as about Paul's work, to think with Paul's biography as well as with Paul's rheology. His view of the one intimately informs his interpretation of the other. And his new ways of chinking about and with Paul in turn inform both his maturing approach to the Bible more generally and (as we will shorrl)' see) his novel ideas on Torah, j ews, and judaism in parricuJar.

186 • A\JGUSTII>Hl ASO TUl! JEWS

Controversy always sharpened Augustine's thinking. His recur· ring engagement with the Manichees over Genesis and especially over Paul had led d irectly ro his interpretive breakthro ugh when read ing Romans in 396. Another controversy, unfo lding in chis same period but with a q uite different spar ring partner, also clarified his thinking on these larger issues of biblical narrative and its historical propt·ietar.. This time, his antagonist \vas nor a Manichee bur a fellow catholic, the formidable Jerome; the contested Pauline rext not Romans but Galatians; the contested theological question not r.he justice o f God but rhe historical rd iabiliry of scripture. In the second chapter o f his letter to the Galatian churches) Paul famously described two earlier moments of controversy involving gentile believers: a plenum meet-ing in Jerusalem ro d iscuss whether gentile Christians should convert to j udaism (Galatians 2:1-10) and a later falling·out in An tioch between Peter and Paul over Jewish and gentile Ch ristians' eating together {Galario ns 2:JJ- l4). Centuries later, ortho· dox commentators struggled to make sense o f the seco nd episode. Their presumption that jesus himself had taught against j udaism made their task more difficult. How could f'eter, who had followed jesus during his lifeti me and thus heard him repud iate j ewish prac· rices (so \vent the orthodox understanding) possibly be concerned d ecades later about a poin t of jewish Law? The g reat O rigen in the early third century framed an elegant ans\ver> which jerome in the following century appropriated for his own comments o n Galatians. Of course Peter knew that Christ had overth rown rhe Law, this interpretive traditio n urged. The argument \li th Paul had actually been a pre· tense enacted fo r the edification o f their audience. Consequend)', both Paul's rebuke to Peter and Paul's later report of this rebuke in Galatians were feigned as well. 15 \\forking o n his own Pauline commentaries in 394 -395, Augustine had written co the elder jero me appealing for translatio ns of Greek patristic autho ri ties. Jn the same comm unication, however) he signaled his disapproval of jerome's understanding of Galarians 2 (Letter 18.J,J-j). To ascribe this sort o f po lite deceit to scripture, Augustine protested) would only undermine its authority. And to undermine the authority of scripture would open the door to

Manichaean claims that t he-se biblical rexts were corrupt. Reiterating h is view in a sermo n from th e same period, Augustine emphasized h is main interpretive poinr: Paul's rext m ust be read straightfor\vardly, as the accurate report of a true disag reemen t. "Otherwise," as he later continued to j ero rne, "the Holy Scripn1 re, which has been given to preserve the faith of generatio ns to come, would be wholl)' un dermined and thrown into doub t, if the validity of lying were once admitted" (Letter 40 -4,5).'6 This issue o f t he h istorical and moral integrity o f scripture info rms Augustine's approach to rh e fourth-cenrury Pauline canon as well. He uses t hese texts not only to construct his fo u r-stage model o f salvation h istory, but also to reconstruct the historical Paul, borh preconversion and posrconversion. From his brief works o n Ro mans and Galatians in 394-395 t hrough co the Ad Simpliciatwm in 396, Augustine had conrin uously regarded Paul as a premier historical example o f how God moves a person from sub lege to sub gratia. Fo r him, Pau t•s b iograp hy modeled Christian conversion. while Paul's theology a rticulated its princip les. Augusd ne's views on Paul's life affecred h is view o n Pa ul's '\vork''-that is, on PauJ•s teachings on g race, free will, a nd d ivine justice, as Augustine understood them- and his views on Paul•s work affected his idea of Paul's life. When these views shift, they shift in tandem. It is his view o f t he h istorical Paul that final ly defeats Augustine's earlier ideas on free will, grace, and conversion. Paul's personal h istor)' as Augustine began to imagine it could not accommodate Augustine~s earlier understanding of how the saved individual moves fro m "under t he Law" to "under grace." The Pa ul of canonical traditio n, Augustine noted, described his former self as a blasphemer and a persecutor (1 Ti mothy 1:13), a foolish, impious, and hateful man enslaved co various pleasures (Titus j:J; Unfinished Commentat)l on Romans 21.6), a nd as a zealo us, vio lent Pharisee (1 Corinthians 15:9; Galatians J:lj~ Commen· tal)' tm Galatiam 7. 1-4). Augustine fu rther enriched Paul's "first· person" depicdon with th e before-and-after portrait ure of Acts, wherein Paul looms large both as a recalcit ra nt persecutor before his conversion and as a committed apostle t hereafter (Acts 8:3; 9:1-4; Un· finished Commeutary on Romans 15.5-6; quesrion 66.6).'7

J8S •

AUGUSTJSl! AND THf! JEWS

In Notes 011 Ro-mans, Augustine had a rgued thar rhe sinner's transition fro m Law to g race depended upon God's fo reknowledge of the in dividual's good will- that is, of t he person's desire, while still a sinner, to call on Christ for h elp to stop sin ning. This good will was t he auto nomous attrib ure of t he individ ual, foreknown by God. But the more that Augusrine thought ad littct-am wlth rh e New Testament's trad itions a bo ut Pa ul1s preconversion self-i ncluding what he took to be Paul's own remarks about his preco nversion self-the less his "histo rical Paul" o bliged Augustine's earlier model. No New Testament text gave Augustine reason to t hink rhat at any poin t prior ro h is transformation on his way to Damascus, Sau l had called on Christ for help (cf. Note.< on RonJAIJS 61-62). O n t he contrary: A ruth less persecuto r and, indeed, a mu rderer, Saul had liked h is work (Acts 8:j; 9:1-4). Yet God- mysteriously, ineluctab ly, even violently-had redeemed Sau l from the e rror of h is ways, without Saul's having done rh e least thing to deserve such redemption, indeed without Saul's having evinced a scin tilla of desire ro be so redeemed. Thusl at t he finale of book one of h is response ro Simplician us, Augustine d ramatically closed his exhausting exan1inarion of the dynamics of will and grace by invoking Pa ul at the very moment o f h is convers1on. \X'hat did Saul wruu but ro arrack, seize, blind and sla)' Christians? Whar a fie•·ce, savage, blind \\~II was t hat! Yet he was rhrown prosrrare by one word from on high, and a vision came co him wherebv his l"nind and wall were rumed from rhetr fie1·cenes.s and '

set on £he righr way cowards fairh so thar, suddenly. from a marvelous persecuror of rhe Gospel a more marvelous preachel' was made. \'{fhac rhen shall we 53)'? .. . ''Is chere unrighceousnes.s wJth God? God forbid!"' k OMASS

9: 16;

TO Sl.lli'LICIANUS t.2,2l

[n terms of any kind of foregoi ng merit, Saul's redemption was inexplicable. Obdu rate, vio lent, proud , he had done nothing to deserve God's mercy. Yet God had called h im aJl}""ray. For Augustine, rh en, Sau l was a premier h isrorkal illusrration of God·s sovereign

The Cot1tJeY( · 189

will, an irreducible example of the absolute freedom of the divine prerogative. What else could Paul (and Aug ustine) do but offer humble praise for God's graciousness in the face of his divine inscrutability? ('For his judgments are unsearchable> and his wa)rs past finding out" (Romans ll:JJ; To Simplici<mus 1.2,22).

8 • THE BIBLI CA L T H EO LOG I AN

W1Jo but)'Oil• 0 God, hat--e spt-ead or~e~· us a canop)' of ar~thoritj' itJ your dittine scriptures? For fitbe sky tvi/J be rolled up like a.scro/Jn UJhit-b is notv .-rstretcbed otter ItS like a skill [pat~lnnent{ cot~etillg" (!saiab 34:4; Psalm IOJ:2). Your divine scripcrsres bave a more ~xalted authorit)' t~otv that the mortals tlwou.gb whom )'0/.1 dispensed rhem have met their mortal end. You knotv, Lord, you ktJOtiJ !JOUI)'Oil clothed hurna11 beings tvith skins wl~n by dJeir sin they became mortal {Genesis pr). So too did )'OU git~e 11s UJI.' t-anop)' o() 'OIIr so·ip· tures to sente It/ike a. ski11 coveri11g, »all)'Ottr words fitted Wgt,ther in agt'fernent t.o girte us shelt~ ,\UCiUSTINE• CO NFt;S.SIO.V$ l j.l5, 16

P .ul's lerters and Acts had provided Augustine with key compo· nents of his new vision of salvation history in 396. Around this same rime, while working o n these ideas about the correspo ndence between scriptural texts, historical events) and biblicaJ interpretation) Augustine also began working at a more fundamental level o n the correspondence between language and meaning. Inspired in part b)' the Book of Rules, Tyconius' handbook of scriptural exegesis, Augustine embarked on his own guide to the interpretation of the Bible. His for· mal education as a master of rhetoric gave him comrnand of all manner of theories and rules and verbal sensitivities and techniques of argumenracion and interpretation when approaching o r creating a rext. In De doctrina Cbristia11a, or Christian 1CadJing, Augustine applied rhis vast erud ition to the task of reading God's book.1 The very fact of human language, Augustine had long held, was charged with religious signilicance. The ways that he thoughr about

language were bound up with h is vision of h istory a nd with his views o n the theological mea ning of man's existence in rime. Back in JSSJ89, commenting o n GenesisJ Augustine had a ttributed t he complexities and rigors of comrnunication to the fi rst sin. Man's current dependence on language, and t he sheer difficulty of fi nding mea ning in and t h rough ambiguous signs-whether those signs be events~ nu mbe rs> rhe spoken word) o r even t he text of scripture itself-were both the sympcom and rh e consequence of the great sin that marked the beginn ing of history. Interpretacion a nd its a ttendant difficulties \\itnessed to t he price paid by the entire species for t he fall (Gmesis (Jgaimt dJe Mm:ichees 2.4,5-5)6). From that point onward) meaning could o nly be med iated. When God cast Adam from Eden, he exiled h im into the dislocated consciousness caused by living in time.2 Reflecting fo rmally in Christian Teaching on the problem of inrerprerarion-the consequence of med iated meaning-Augustine focused more precisely on an immediate source of these difficulties: the problem of d istinguishing between different kinds of signs {signa; singular $ignmn). Signs are indica tors that refer to rh ings other than t hemselves. Some signs are naruraLJ with no inremionality. ("\Vhere there~s smoke"-a natural signl lacking inrention-''there•s fire.") Bu t t he signs that matter for the rhetorician are $t'gna data, "given'• or " intentional" signs, of which the pren1ier e.x ample is human language. Intention in forms human speech; understanding language requires in terpretation. And linguisdc signs themselves fall inro two categories: signs that poin t to specific things o r to an immediate interpreti\•e contexr (sigilli pl'opria, "proper'·' or "self-referring" or ''literal'' signs), and signs t hat refer ro t hings or ideas ours ide of t heir immediate context to something else (sigilli tTamlata, <•refer red-away" or metap horical signs). At issue between these two sorts of st7Jta is their interpretive points of reference. Signa proprifl a re, in a sense) reflexive. T he key to interpreting them prope1iy is fo u nd within the context thar they occupy. If such a sign occurs in a biblical story, chis means thar rhe key to u nderstanding it lies within t hat same story. And, since rh e Bib le often narrates accounts of things thar occurred in the past (srcundum histm·icam)) t hen understanding t hat srory (Jd litternm or semndum historicam

p,.oprietdtis means that its interpretive fTame o f reference musr also lie "in the past." A single word in a passage can function both \\'a)'S, as Augusrine illustrates with a passage from 1 Co rinth ians 9:4- 9. Paul wrote:

Do we nor ha\•e rhe righr co our food and drink? .. . Who serves as a soldier ar his own ex~nse? \Vho plam s a vin eyard wirhour eating of lrs frui r? . . . Do I say rhis o n human amhoriry? Does nor rhe Law say rhe satne? For ir is writren tn the law of ?\·loses, 1'You shall nor muzzle an ox when ir rread.s our rhe grain·· [ DeureronotU)125~].

Paul in chis passage had argued that the Christian commun iry should support the person who worked to bring them t he gospel (see p. 58 a bove). To clinch h is argumen t, he cited a law from the last of the Five Books o f 1\·loses, Deu tero nomy) on how to t reat animals. "'Is ir for oxen that God is concerned?'' (1Corinthians 9:10). The person who understood ox as a signum proprium within the contexr o f Deuteronomy would think, "\Vell, },.es." A person with spiritual in sight, however, would realize that in rhis instance ox also fu nctioned as a signum tram/a tum, referring away from the sign ox to the a postle (Christian Teacbing 2.10,1)).

T he Bib le is a special instance o f signa data because o f its un ique double authorship: t he timeless, eternal God who is its source and th e historicaUy and linguistically contingent humans who were its medium (Cbristian Teacbi1Jg 2.2,3). To rhis co nstitutive complexity of .scripture the \videly variable quality o f biblical rranslations and manuscripts add yet more layers o f interpret ive difficulty. And infi nitely compounding all of these pro blems is the Bible's literary style itself. l ts seeming simplicity concealed rich profundiries; mysteries lay encoded in images> figu res, and especially in nu mbe rs. Nothing was super-Au· ous; everything needed ro be u nderstood. But how?J Augustine took as h is interpretive North Star the double injunction in scripture to love God an d neighbo r (cf. Matthew 22:}6-40). "Scripture enjoins norh ing but love (caritas), and ce nsures nothing but lust (cupiditas) . .. . By 'love' J mean the impulse of one's mind to enjoy God o n h is own acco un t and to enjoy o neself and one's neighbor o n

The Bibliral Theologittn · l9J

acco un t of God" (Christian Teaching J.t0,16~ Augustine had introduced this idea back in l.JJJ7)· Such an orientation, he insists, ensures that the reader will interpret acco rd ing to the received reaching of the chu rch ("for (scripture] asserts nothing except the catholic fai th, in time past, rime present, and futu re"). And such an oriemation aids the reader in discerning whether to interpret a n ambiguoussigmm1 figuratively (that is> in a metaphorical sense, as referring ro something other than itself) o r speci fically (proprie, meaning within rhe time frame o f t he biblical story itself, rhus "historically"; }10,4). Correct discernrnent o f ambiguous signs is crucially important beca use of the rwin dangers in scriprural interpretat io n: understanding figu ra tive expressions literal!)', and understanding literal expressio ns figuratively (Christian Teaching j.I0,14). The jews, said Augustine, pardcularly err in the firs t way, understanding metaphorical p hrases ad litteram and so attending solei)' to the "carnal" o r rhis-worldly aspects of biblical signa. Jews rhus in terpret the Sabbath-a sigmm1 tnmslattun acrually d irecting the understa nding mind tmvard ch ose "higherl\1 realities revealed in and rhrough Ch ristas if it were a s17Jmm proprit4mJ a sign pointing exclusively ro a selfreferring meaning (thac is, to the t his-worldly Sabbath rest, o ne da)' o ur of seven). Accordingly,Je~vs fail to "raise the m ind's eye above phys· ical creation in o rder to absorb etemal light)" and so remain co n fined by their "fleshly" p ractices a nd impoverished understanding in "a m iserable kind o f spiritual servirude" (Cbristian Teaching ).5,9)So far, Augustine: has said nothing about jewish readings of scriptu re and about jewish religious practices that had not been said during the preceding ce nturies o f the: evolving adversus Jud.aeos rradition. His ne:-.:t sta tements thus mark an interesting departure. Turning from this familiar critique, he suddenly offers a novel endorsement. "The fo nn that this slavery took in rh e jewish people," Augustine co ntinues> "was very different from the experience of other narions 1' (Christilm Tt>acbing J.6.JO). Most Jews may h ave missed the spiritual meaning {that is, the Chr istian meaning) o f their own tradicion 1 mistak ing scripture's signa tnmsl4ta fo r signa propria; but even in chis enslavement they directed their worship to the one t rue God, who was the auth or and source o f rhese precepts. Thus by "do ing" the Law, despite not understanding its higher meanings, the jews conformed to the divine

19-1 ·AUGUSTINE ,\N'D THIO JE\VS

wilLT he jews were the only nation befo re t he coming ofCh risr to wor· ship the t rue God withou t resorting to images . ..me Lawtenacted in this way}served rh ejews in r.he way thar aped agogue serves youn g children, useful!}' di recring them thro ugh disci· pline so that they get to school. Thus those Jm> of Jesus' generation who joined the earliest apostolic commu nity in Jerusalem, precisely because o f their fo rmer life of slavery under the Law, were already "d ose to being spirituaL,., Habitua ted by jewish religious p ractices, th ey were p ro pelled ro great spiritual heights o nce rhey believed. Selling all of their possessions and g iving the proceeds to the apostles, rhey dedicaced themselves wholly to God (Acrs 4:32-35: Christidll Teach· ing J.G,!O). No gent ile chu rch of this fi rst generation artained a spirirual level as lo fcy as the church ofjerusalem did, Augustine continues, precisely because the Gentiles lacked what t he Jews uniquely had, namelv, Gocl•s Law.-l ' ·n1e "sign s,., to which jews were enslaved-that is, rh e p recepts of t he Law, mediated by the Bible-were "useful" beca use authored by God h imself. Bur the Gentiles before t he co ming of Christ were slaves to "useless sign s.,., of which they t hemselves were au thor. Slavery to c.he divinely a uthored Law led to t rue worship of the true god; slavery to signs o f h uman authorship, to "the pollut ion o f a horde of fictitio us gods" (Christian Teaching j.8,rl). Nor were all Jews who lived accord ing to the Law slaves to the La\v. Those who were "spiritual" among t hem> despite living in the era o f slaveq ' before Christ came, were free. These people-the patr iarchs, t he prophets, and others- had indeed lived the Law according to Jewish practice; but they also glimpsed its higher sign ificance. In consequence, it was t hrough these people-and thus u niquely through Israel-that the Holy Spirit gave to hu manity the support and comfort o f the scriptures (3.9,tj)J This mendon o f t he patriarchs moves Augustine to e mphasize the impo rta nce of considering conte:~rt both cultural and historical (even as a modern reader \Vould identify such terms), when construing scripture. People generally regard as culpable on I)' such an ions as men of rheir own time and place rend [ 0 blan1e and condem n, and rhey regard as commendable and praisewonhy only such a([ions as a t•e

Th~

Btb/i,·.r/ Tht olog;.r" · 195

acceptable within the convemtons o f t heir own soctery. And so ir happens char ifScrip[Ure enjoins somerhing chat varies fro m rhe pracrices o f irs t•eaders1 or if ir censures somedltng char their pracrice does not, t hey consider the passage ro have a figuranve meaning.. . . We must pay careful anemion co che conduce appt•oprtare co djffere m places, umes, and persons, lest we make rash imputations of wickedn ess. CHRJST/,IN Tf:.A· CI-It!..G

J .JO, l j

- 12 , 2 0

Surveying the wide variety o f social practices1 which alter diachro nically wit hin th e same cu lrure {he gives rhe example o f changes in Roman dress) and synchro nically across diffe ren t ethn ic groups

(gwtes), Augustine dist inguishes benveen cult ure-specific custom and timeless moral instruction. In th e latter category fall such teachings as, "Do not do to another \vhat you would not wish to be done to yourself" {Tobie 4:16). He chen rurns co che moral instruction offered by time-bound exemplars, rh e patriarchs and the oth er heroes. such as David and Solomon, presented in the Old Testament. Despite multiple marriages, he claims. the patr iarchs of o ld practiced chastity. "looking only to the procreation o f children in t he sexual act" (d~rist·

ian Teachi11g J. t8,27)-T he husba nds in Corin th, to whom Pau l permit· ted mar ital interco urse as a curb ro lust, eviden tly could not be chaste wit h a single wife (r Corin thians T2). And when scripture relates •·rhe sins o f g reat men/' it is to denounce them, not to endorse them. T herefore, concludes Augustine, "even if it is possib le to observe or trace a p refigu ration of future events in them, o ne shou ld nevertheless take up the literal mean ing of their deeds/' reflecting hmnbly on o ne's own sins in contemplating t heirs (Christian TeadJing 3-23,33). Neither ethical awkward ness nor figura tive significance should deflect t he interpreter from the effo rt to read such passages as h istorically descriptive as well. \X'ithou r d ue consideration of h istorical context and of "sp ecific'' n1eaning (proprkta.s), Augusti ne co ncludes, the sigtJa of scriptu re will be misconstrued. T his in terpretive point in defense o f t he morals and mores of Old Testament heroes leaves him poised to argue .against one o f the Man ichees' tradit io nal criticisms of the ca tholic canon. Some o f their most effeccive polemic targeted the behavior o f O ld Testament

196

·AUGUST! Nil ,\SD THIO JE\VS

pat riarchs and kings, whose many ma rriages offended their ascetic sensibilities. (On che evidence of the )IOung August ine, ch e sensibilities of thinking catholic Christians were offended as well; Confrssiom }7,12-IJ.) lnsread1 surprisingly, Augustine broke off Cbristia11 Teaching at chis point, a bo ut halfway through book three. It lay fallow for almost three decades. Augustine recovered h is unfinished work only as he was ar· ran ging and comment ing on his own writings in th e last years o f h is life (c. 426-427; Ret.nu:tations 2.4,1). At that point, he fi nally co mplered book three an d added book fou r, picking up composition where he had left off, o n knowing when to read fo r literal o r figurative meanin gs. Perhaps in 396, on the cusp of an energetic ca mpaign against the Donatisr chu rches, h is dependence here on the handbook of the Do· natist Tyconius made continuing chis project too awkward. (Once he resumed book three in 426, he moved explicirly into a lengthy consid · eracion ofTyconius• Book ofRules. By t hen, however, the Donatists had been safely o ut maneuvered.) O r perhaps his an ention and e nergy were absorbed by the a mbitious preaching program in the spring a nd sum mer of 397 that he undertook in Ca rt hage.' \'V'hatever his immediate reason fo r leaving Christian Teacbing to one side, Augustine went o n over the course of the nexc few years to develo p his new in terpretive insights into texts and time a nd his new t heological insights into d ivine justice and h uman freedom in rwo very difTerent b ut related writings. The later and longer work was h is Against Fat1slt1.< (c. 398-400). Unfurling in thirty-three books, this trea· rise was at once a massive refu tadon o f La rin Manichaeism and at the same time an u tterly novel defense o f the religious legitimacy of Jud aism. We will look ar Agaimt Faust>ts closely and at lengrh very shortly. The earlier and greater work- arguably the g rearest book rhat Au· gustine ever prod uced , and ce rtainly one of che master pieces of\X'este rn letters-was the Confessions.

••• like a Starburst in the )ace J90S, A b rilliam and profoundly o riginal work of creative theology, irs thirteen books combine biblical interpretation, late Pla tonism, and an ri-Manichaean THE CONFJ;SSIONS A PPEA RS

The Biblical Tl>eologian · 197

polemic with haunting au tobiographical med itation. This examination o f his past life, which begins in book o ne a nd shapes Augustine's narrative t hrough th e close of book n ine, is the stylistic hallmark o f the Confrssiom.. It is what makes the Confossions so unusual in ks own period, so pe rduringly valuable to Augustine's later biograph ers, and so seemingly accessib le to h is modern readers. In t he works on Paul t hat had absorbed him in the sewral Y"ars immediately preceding the Cotlfossiom1 Augustine had constructed an idea o f conversion as a clear and p recise movement from "under t he

Law" (sub lege) co "under grace" (sttb gratia). Unlike the more t raditional seven-stage model o f .salvation h istory and of personal growth, in which th e t ra nsition seemed more gradual and the stages more evolutionary, Augustine's four-stage model, linked now to Paul1s letters, presented sah•ation with d ramatic p recision. The coming o f Christ scood at the center of world history, ab ruptly defin ing t he change from Law to g race; and che same d ramatic transition shaped an individual life, marking t he measure o f personal redemptio n (see p. 165 above). Further, laboring again to interpret Ro mans 9 through u in h is torc-uo us response to Simplicianus, Augustine had made this charged moment, the t u rning of t he will to God by God, defin itive both of Paul's own co nversion a nd of Paul's theology itself. Small sur prise then that the scory of h is own life in th e Confossiom-assernbled wit h co nstant reference to Paul-seems d ramatically driven row<1rd t he narrative crescen do o f his own co nversion, unforgettably described in book eighu Read ing Augustine's Confossions this way-thar is, as primarily a story a bout his own conversion- in t urn highlig hts a strong theme in its first seven books. These become rhe d iscordant overture co book eight's final, soaring harmonies. Augustine's past life emerges as a tale o f missteps a nd false starts, a sequence o f erroneous conversio ns iniriated> most o ften, b)' powerful encoun ters with books. Virgil's Aeneid charges the child Augustine's imagination, but h is growing mastery o f classical literat ure only sweeps h im in to the "torrents o f h uman custom" (Confmion.< u 6,15). The young Augustine, in Carthage, then dedicates himself to the quest for wisdom, precip itated by his powerful encoun ter with Cicero's Hortemius. This resolve propels him fi rst to

19& · AllClUSTI I'-t! AND THE J l! WS

t he Bible (which he, ''swollen with pride," finds intolerably crude; }5,9), a nd then to t he Manichees (who never let him near their own books) and \vho lie ro him, he says in retrospect, about the books of rh e chu rch; j.6,tO- tt). Star charts and horoscopes lead him toward astrology (4.3,4: cf. s -s,6-5,9); t he wr itings of t he New Academy, to the edge of philosophical skepticism (s.14,25). Finally, t he books of t he Platonists (7-9,13), together with his rereading of l'aul's letters (7.21,27), liberate him from his ca ptivity to Man ichaean materialism. By t he end of book seven, Augustine's in tellecwaJ conversio n is complete. However, despite his new convictions, he srill lingers as a catechumen. The problem with p roceeding to baptism, says Augustine, was h is sexual need (8.1,2). Successive n·aves of conversion stories, each bearing a message of heroic renunciatio n, now break over Augustine. First, Simplicianus relates how the great Roman o rator Marius Victorio us, relinquishing h is pride, came to baptism. (Augustine "burns co follow'' his example, (()nfessions 8.2>3-5)10). Next} his friend Ponticianus speaks to him abou t Sain t Anthony's call to t he Egyptian desert and a bo ut a community of ma.Je celibates directed by Ambrose who live just o utside Milan (8.6,14). Finally, Ponricianus relates his personal knowledge of rwo affianced cou ples in Trier who resolved to quit rh e world a nd , committing themselves to celibacy, dedicate r.heir lives to God (S.6,15). Augustine's wrenching self-po rrrair of inner conflict dominates t he rest of book eight. He finds h imself trapped by the memory of his former delig hts. Those pleasures that he had o nce loved - th ough he wants to love t hem no longer- had forged a chain of habit in his soul, binding his \\'iiJ to irs own disorder. Panting. weeping) rh rowing h im self prosrrate, Augustine agonizes over his own indecision>his divided will, t he paralyzing paradox of wanting and nor wanting rh e same ching at the same time. "I p rayed in my g reat un worchiness, da mibi castitatem et continentiam domine sed noli modo: grant me chastity and continence, 0 Lord; but nor yet" (umfossiom 8.7,17). Back in 388, two years after he had resolved to join rhe church, Augustine had written rhatone could attain the righteous life "wit h perfect ease,'' since ro do so required merely a n act of will (Ft~e \Vi/1 1.13,29, quoted o n p. 171 above). Now, spealking of the moral torque caused by the divergence

Tlu Hiblir~tl Tlu<.~logidn · 199

between thinking and loving, between knowing and wan ting, h is new view o f the will is much more complex. \XIhat moves people, thought Augustine in t he lare 390s, is nor what t hey know bur what t hey want. Accordingly, he presents his conversion o f 386 in new perspective: Many years had flowed by-a dozen o r mo1·e-since ( a r nmereen had read Cicero's Hortensius . . . an d y~r sri II I was posrponing giving up t his world's happiness. . . . I was frantic in mind> in a frenzy of mdignadon ar myself for nor gomg over ro your Law and co you rcovenanr, 0 IH}' God, whe1·~ aJI my bones cried our char I should be. . . . The way was nor by ship or by charior or by foot; it was nor as far as I had gone when I wenc fro m th e house to the place where we now sat. Fo1· I had onl)' had co will to go in order nor merely to go, bur also ro arrive; I had only ro will m gobur powel'full)' and whole-hean edly, nor turning and rwisring a half-wounded will chis way and rh ac. . . . \"'hat is rh e source of chis monscrousness? \Vhere is irs I'OOt? Might rhe anS\WI' nor lie in rhe m)'Srel'lous punishtnent chat has co1ne upon all hlllnaniry, rhe deep hidden damage wichin t he child ren of Adam?

Suddenly, the chanting o f an unknown child reaches rh e irreso lu te, exhausted Augustine. Tolle, lege: "Pick up and read!" Remembering rhe stor)' o f Anthony, how he had been called to t he deserr b)' h is ch ance hearing of Matchew's gospel ("Go, sell all you have, give co rhe poor . .. and come, follow me"'; Matthew 19:21)>Augustine decides rhat this voice, too, is a divine comman d. He snatches up rhe book rhar he had left lying in the garden>a volu me of Paul's letters, and lets his eye fall o n whatever verse awai ts him on the o pened page. "Not in rioting an d drun kenness/' Ro mans IJlJ-14 instructs h im 1 "nor in chambering a nd wantonness. not in strife an d rivaJr ies; but put on t he Lord jesus Christ a nd make no provision for the flesh and its desires.'' "I neither wished no r needed to rea d further,'' Augustine concludes. "Ar once ... a lighr of relief from all anxiety flooded my heart, and all rhe shadows o f doubt disappea red." His v.-ay clear1 his resolve fi n n , he confide ncl)' gives himself over to his new fut ure (Con,{t,ssiom 8.12>29-30).

100 • AIJGUS T l N l: ;\NJ) THE JI:WS

If o nly Augustine had ended t he Confessions on this note! The rising action o f its fi rst seven books could stand as che kinetic buHdup to c.he emotionally extravagan t climax in book eight. And its followi ng book. which relates Augustine's baptism, a religious vision that he shared with his mother, and Monnica's death, could then dose the who le as its decorous diminuendo. Bu r instead, Augustine continued. O nce book nine co ncludes the narrative section o f the Confessions, fully 40 pe rcent o f its eighty thousand words still remain. Augustine ab ruptl)' shifts his focus from h is past (c. 387, when t he "a utobiographical" section ends in Italy) to his present (c. 397, when t he bishop of Hippo mediates o n t he question o f how to know God}. Book ten contemplates memory; book eleven) the nature o f rime~ book twelve, spir icual and material creation; book thir· ceen>revelation, redemption>eternity. The.se incandescent final books rerrospecrively alter any simple reading of the earlier, narrative ones. The problem with regarding the Confossio>IS p ri marily as au tobiography, t hen, is t he way chat such a readi ng risks losing a view of t he work as a whole. When Augustine wrote his masterpiece, he clearly had more ch an an exploration of his pe rsonal past in mind. Augustine himself saw the Co·nfossions as falling inro two uneven halves: t he fi rst ren books (including ch e centh, o n the nature of memOf)') o riented around h imself (''de -me"), the last three around Genesis 1:1 ("In t he beginn ing God created t he heavens and t he earth"; Retrnc· lations 2.6,1). Throughout, he in terwove b iblical fragments and images from Genesis, Pau~ and especially Psalms together with allusions co the works o f the pagan Neoplatonists Plotinus and Porphyry. And he cast th e whole in che form of a prayer to the omniscient god who already knew everything t hat Augustine relates to him. (Wit hin the conceit of this p resentation, the reader is o nly obliquely involved.) \Vhatever else it is, then-elegiac, intricate, acu te, incense-the Confos-

siom is also very o dd. Both the structu re and the content of this book frustrate any single anempt co defi ne it. Ho\vever) renouncing the temptation to psychologize the Confossiom as Auguscine•s ''true confessions"-that is, as an intimate narra· tion o f h is personal past, a candid review o f fo rmer sins a nd current regrets-is surely a step in the right direction. To do so is nor easy,

The Biblical Tbnl!ogitut •

10 1

given modern fas hions of reading. And Augustine's persistent recourse to a rich vocabulary of (especially sexual) transgressionearthly )"'arnings (amwpiscwtia camalis), shameful lusts (jlagitia), illicit congress lfornicatio), passionate desire (appetitss~ libido), sin (peccatum), sin (focimts), sin (illiquitas)- feeds a prur ien t modern preoccupation. {Let the reader be\vare: FortJic4tio is also how Augustine categorized his theft of pears at the age of twelve; Ctmftssiom 2.6,14.) It m ight help to remember too, despite the habitual locution "Augustine ·wrote,'' that Augustine d id not '"write." The thoughts that seem to throb across the centuries d id not pour out of him and o nco the page in a torrent o f tormented introspection d uring some dark night of the soul. Augustine performed the Ctmftssions, declaiming its beautiful phrasing aJ. wa)'S in the presence of at least one o r two other people, the skilled tJotarii taking shorthand dictation. \Vhat moderns rake to be intimate self-portraiture is often rhe product of their own presentism, overstimulated by Augustine's rhetorical artiscry. Read ing the C~nftssions as autobiography leaves roo much of it un· accoun ted for. \Ve cannot gee a satisfactory answer to the question> "\'<' hat are the la..'it fo ur books doing here?" But there is a single co nstant focus. One unique character figu res prominently in all thirteen of these books, and his textual presence u nites the whole: the god o f the Bible. If we see the C~nftssions not as religious autobiography but as very original theo!Og)', if we turn o ur attention away fi·om Augustine and toward his ideas about God, we can allow its coherence to ernerge. Such a reading enables an answer to the old interpretive question>which then gets turned o n its head. The question to the Con+ fossiom is no longer: Why) when presenting his introspective autobiography} djd Augustine write the last four books as he did? bur rather: \Vhy, when presenting his views o n God> did Augustine write the first nine books at all?

••• since his sudden ordinatio n In 391, and more specificall)' since his public debate with Forrunatus in 392, Augustine had struggled to frame his ideas o n God, creation, and the process of redemption th rough his reading o f the Bible. By 396-397, his efforts had I N THE PERIOD

101 • .\UGUSTII'li ANO Ti l E J EWS

led h im to three insights thar particularly co nce rn us here. Firs~ he saw rhat un dersta nding scripture required not o nly a "spiritual" reading (that is, one that g rasped t he manifold meanings available t hrough enig mas, types, nu mbers, and o ther symbols) but also a "literal" o r "historical" reading (one t h at took the past described in the rext as a n important interpretive context-in his own terms, a read ing ad litreram and ptvprie). Second, Augustine understood Paul's personal hisrory as illu mining and artintlacing a Pauline rheology o f g race. And th ird, he held t hat the difficulties attendant on interpretation of all sorrs, in secular matters no less than sacred ones, define fallen humanity's co nditio n in time. These three co nvictio ns converge in Augustine's Ctmfossiom. They set its central inqu iry: How can fallen ma n know God? This is t h e question thar opens Augustine's book. The problem is itself paradoxical: How can you look for something u nless you already know what you 're looking for? So too Augustine asks how to caJI o n God in order to know him if he is calling on God in order ro know h im. "Gran t me, Lord, to know and to understand which co mes first, to call upon you o r to praise you? And does knowing you precede calling upon you? But who calls o n you who does not know you?" (CotJ· fessiom u ,t). \'(!hen he moves from the retrospectofbooksone through n ine inro t he present, Augustine uses t his question to frame his inq uir)' into m ind and memory (two key components of the search). Thus book ten o pens with a prayer ro God: "Let me know you, You who know me. Ler me know you even as l a m known'• (Confosskms and it closes with a line from Psalm 2L: 'T hey shall praise the Lord who seek him" (10.43,70). By t he end of book th irteen, the a nswers to Augustine's petition have accumulated . God h as p rovided hu manity with many means of knowing him: physical crearion (Confessions Ij.2SAJ; 33,48); scriprure (lj.lj,J6; 29, 44; 34,48); t he chu rch (1323,33; 34,48); his divine Son, "who is rh e mediacor between You t he O ne and us the man)'"' (11.29J9, wir.h deliberate reference to t he Platonic contrast). Bu t it is especially the mind itself, wh ich in the begin ning God made according to his own image and likeness, that provides a royal road back to God (Genesis 1:26-27; cf. Conforsions IJJ4,49). B)' t urning inward- the clarion call of 10.1 11);

Thr Biblual Thrologiat1 ·

!OJ

late Platonism-a person can find God because God is there, u).11 God is within the self. Why, then, is knowing God, finding God so difficult? Augustine answers that sin has ruptured rhe human self and thus, also, the relarionship between the self and God. For the human race, and rhus fo r each individ ual person, sin has torn apart the soul by ruptur ing how it loves, tearing apart will and affect, thought and feeling. (This is the topic parricula•iy explored, in a sense demonstrared, in books one rhrough nine, Augustine's historicaJ narratio n of his own divided self.) And sin has ruptured the relationship between the individual and God by plunging the person into the dislocated dirnension of rime. The human experience of time, Augustine explains> delineates the crucial diffe rences between the human mind, which is God's image in man, and God himself. God is o utside of time. He knows eVfl}'thing perfectly and (an aspect of this quality of knowing) he knows everything aU at o nce, in "the simultaneity of eterniry'' {Confessions lj.7,9). Further, no gap whatever divides divine knowing fro m divine willing and divine doing. This divine seamlessness of thought>will, and deed accounts fo r the way thar God created the \vorld without co mpromising his unchangeable perfection. Everything, including rime itself, "occurred.. simultaneo usly. Before creation rhere was no "time''; therefore, strictly speaking, there is no "before crea6on." \X'ith astonishingly few arguments and with an amazing ease of reference-Genesis to Plotinus and back again-Augustine nearly dispatched o ne of the defining difficulries of biblical theology. The timeless, changeless deity of philosophical paideia and the engaged, active deity of biblical narrative have, in his fo rmulatio n, truly made their peace with each other, and melded into a single, coherenr concept of God.~ FaJien humanity, however, has an utterly differe nt experience of self and of rime. People know incompletely, they 'viii ineffectively, they do imperfecdy. T his abiding condition of imperfection reflects the quality of human conscio usness> which is itself disrended in time. To understand this distension and its consequences is to understand the effects of living in time. Augustine admits that he cannot say what time is, bur he gives a dizzying description of hotv ti me

104 · AUGUSTINE AND THS JEWS

is (Confessio-ns u .14,t7). Time, he says 1 functions psychologically; that is, its effects are e.~perienced within the soul. " It is in you>my mind>that 1 measure rime" (t 1.27,36). And how is time measured? By its flow} its constant movemem from the fu ture into the present and thence to che pasc. Considering the mind's effort to measure t ime's flow, Augusrine notes that o nly time•s middle term, present) designates something that actually exists. The fu ture does not yet exist; the past no longer exists. Only the present "is.'' Thus the present alone is \vhar the soul at any given moment actually experiences. Bu t what is "rh e present"''? \Vhat is "a moment"? Not even o ne dar is emil·ely presenr. All the hours o f the day add up ro twenry-four. T he first of them has the orhers in th e furure1 t he last has them in [he pasc. . .. A single hour is itself consrirmed of fugitive rnomenrs. ... If we can think of some bit of rime which cannot be divided imo even t he smallest instantaneous moment, t hat alone is wha[ we call ''presem.') An d this rime Aies by so quickly fro rn the fu[Ure imo [he past that it is an interval of no duration. Any duracion is divisible into pasr and fmure. A pt·esem momem cakes up no rime. CO NI'li SSIO.VS 1 1. 15,20

The present itself is thus consta nd)' receding and inherently ungraspable. lc exiscs becween cwo h uge planes of nonbeing chac spread out in fin itely in either d irection: the past (which has no existence> since it no longer is) and the fu ture (which has no existence, since ir is yet co be). Yet all of a person's consciousness> her entire ability to know and ro understand> is circumscribed by and lim ited to this infi nitely tin~·, perpetually t ransient rnome nr. Human consciousness dr ifts awash in this sea of nonbe ing. "I a m scattered in times whose order I do not understand/ ' Augustine laments. "The storms ofinco herent events rend n1y thoughts, che in mosc entrails of my soul" (Confr.<.solely in the present-constancly run s between the fingers of the soul like sand. How> then 1 can h umans know anything? How

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can meaning be d istilled from chis ceaseless flow of atomized experience? How, indeed, can che mind grasp a nything? Augustine begins to frame a n answer by thin king about language. Language, like experience) is also inn·insically tangled up in time: it too depends on the linea r passage from being (present) to nonbeing (past). Consonants and von·ds alternate to create phonemes, words follow ,~,-·ords, nouns verbs. Both in its smallesc units (consonants and vowels) and in its larger ones (sentences and more), language works by having a beginning, a middle, and an end. (like all ancient people, Augustine chinks of words and cexts orally, in terms of th eir being spoken and heard; Co>ifessiom u .6,8-n,13.) Time shapes language, an d language shapes time. lt is o nly than ks to memoq,., however, that humans can manage to wring meaning from language. Memory, says Augustine, is that part of the soul that p rocesses both language and experience. \VIe cannot know the meaning of a word, or of a sentence o r of a speech, until its end is reached. Only at thac point do we remember the whole, and we then interpret what these units of sound convey. Thus>iflatJguage is in· trimicall,y nandtive-syllables, words, stanzas, speeches all have a beginning, a middle, a nd an end-understatJditJg is intrimically retrospectille. Meaning emerges and can only emerge through che act of recoUection. \Ve owe co the integrative function of memory the fact that we can think a nd know at all." But meaning is never immediately present: lt is always and necessarily med iated th rough the images, signs, and words chat memory reAects upon. Thus, just as time is not the same as the units char we measure it by) so also meaning is not rhe same as chose words that we use in our efforc to convey meaning, or in those words from which memory attempts to wring meaning. Meaning, for hum ans, is always a retrospective and imperfect achievement. This tenuousness of significance obtains even in rh e case of inspired words, chat is>scripcure. God's \\lord, rhe Son, exists co-erernaJ with h im, spoken ''in the simu1taneity of eternity." But in the gospel, "the Word speaks through the Aesh" (Confessions 11.7,9);and once written, God's word is incarnate in contingent h uman language. The wri t· ten, h istorical word can sustain a d iversitv of n·uths. The vaJiditv of ' '

106 · A U(iiJST INE AND TH S JEWS

rhese truths cannot be limited by the historically contingenr in ten tions o f their o riginal a ut ho rs. Nor can aU o f scripture•s meanings ever be known a t o nce ( J2.2J.3l- j0,41). And, o f course, scripture can also be misunderstood and misinterpreted (cf 6-4,_;-s,S). Yet despite its cond i· cion of co nt ingency in language, th e Bible nonetheless mediates the knowledge o f God . It is the divinely constructed bridge between eter· nirv and t ime. ' Scripture t h us st ands between h u manity and God as "a solid firmament o f a uth oricv , ... like a skin stretched above us." lr exists because o f Adam's fall and because of God 's providential response to h is fall. "You know, Lord, how you clothed men with skins when by sin rhey became mortal (Genesis 3:21); so you have snetched out rhe fi rmament of )''Our book like a skin. thar is, your words .. . which )IOU have placed over us by the ministry o f mortal men" (Confossions IJ.Ij,J6). "To instruct the unbelie\•ing people Yo u p roduced from p hys· ical matter sacra ments and visible miracles and the sounds of the words of your book" (1J.J4,49). And wha tever other rrut hs scripture co rn mun ic.ares, it commences with and most straightforwardly asserts chat in the beginn ing t he eternal chan geless God made the invisible and the visib le universe (t t.3lr4-J; J2.2~}. The true God is t he crearor God, who made all things and called them good. This is an assertion

ad litteram. Bur since scriprure (necessar ily) describes God in language, it a lso measures the d ifference bet\veen God a nd h umanity. God, in eternity, knows all t hings simultaneously, as do the angels who dwell in the "heaven of heavens," rhe "inreiJecrual, no nmaterial heaven where the intell igence's knowing . .. is nor partial, not in a n enigma, not through a glass, but complete total openness, face to filce . . . concurrent, wit hou t any tempo ral successiveness" (Conftssiom J 2.1j,16). Man, t ra pped in time, can no longer know God (or anything else) in this way. Nor will he again know God in this way un til h is rransforma tion a t the end of time (11.29,39; IJ.lj,JS). Thus, in the only passage of his ent ire book in which Augustine "scops" speaking an d God h imself "speaks," Augus· cine imagines GocJ•s saying to him}

\X' hat is said in Scripcure ls said by me. Yet it is said to those who exist tn time, whi1e dme does nor affecr rny own Wotd, which

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exisrs as Ol)' equal in ~cenmy. \Xfhat you see by the Spirir's acuon I also see, jusr as whac you say by t he Spirit's acdon, I also say. But you see in cemporaJ sequence and I see ourside of time, you speak in temporal sequence and I speak ourside of rime [tJon ego temporalitt'l' dim]. COA'FiiSStONS

1J.29,44

Augustine's g reat exploration o f memory in book ten o f che CotJ· frssiom is thus his anrh ropological companio n piece ro the philosoph)' o f time that he sets o ur in book eleven. 1v1emory's premier role, as we have just seen, is cognitive: It is the site o f necessary intellecrual processesJ che way by which a person meaningfully locates himself within time. Bu t memory also has negative effects. 1t is the site within t he soul most marked by the habits o f the heart, what Augustine elsewhere calls t he soul's "weigh r": amor tm!us pondus meus (Cunfossiom t}9, 10). This idea

mingles wit h Augustine's vivid ap pro priation o f late Platonism and his no less vivid recourse to the language o f Psalms, wherein the seat of knowled ge is so often the "heart." For all these reasons, ''knowing" for Augustine is never sole-ly a function of cognition. Knowing immediately implies loving. Man seeks rruth because man loves truth, and his love directs his path. Love is rhe motor o f the wilL But in consequence o f t he Fall, Augustine asserts, a person•s will js d ivided and ineffectual, his loves misdirected. Augustine understands Ro mans 7 as the scriptu ral manifesco o f this condition. Exact!)' in the place where the Manichees had read proof o f external coercion, o f the good soul's struggle against the incursions of rhe fo rces o f evil, Augustine saw the thrashing around of the will divided against irself. Human will is indeed "free," bu t o nly in the sense that nothing ou tside of itself fo rces irs self to sin. Wounded by sin, the will figh ts against itself. It knows one thing and wants something else; it chin ks o ne thing and feels sornething else. ''I do not understand my own actions., , J d o not do what I wan r, bur I do the very thing t hat I hate ... , l can will whar is righr, but I cannot do it. For I do not d o the good t har I want, but t he evil I do nor wane is whar I do" (Romans ]:t) - 20). 11 Understanding t hese verses in Romans 7 as descriptive o f humanicy's punishment and of t he universal h uman condition after Adam's sin (which Augustine invokes immed iarely in t he fou rth and fifth lines

108 • AI!G U STI NE A~ U THE J I:WS

of the firsc book~ CmrfosJiom u ,t), Auguscine demonstrates their veracity (that is, the veracit)' of his current interpretation o f them) by describing h is own past in their terms. Power, p raise, sexual satisfaction, wealth: Augustine/ Everyman pursues these goals because he loves ch em, but they can never bring h im true happiness. Unaided by grace, fallen h uman love is co mpulsive, unconn·ollable, disordered1 depleting. Only the love o f God-which can be given on I)• by God-heals and sustains. The love of God alone is true happiness. So essen tial is love to h u man motivation that God uses it to effect salvation: He redeems the fallen individual by reorienting what and how the person loves, enabling the person to love him. Only by the grace of God, says Augustine, can the person co me to love what is good, rather than simply what he wants. Thus he presents the story of his own past, building to the rumulruous accoun t in book eight1 when he finall)' can praise God for "converting me to ):ourself" (Confossiom S.J2JO). Bur the purpose of Augustine's entire story1 begin ning from book one, is to provide a narrative demonstration both of his current rheological convictions and of the rnode of his realization of these: belatedly, retrospectively, in cime. The event in rhe garden so dramati cally rendered indeed occurred back in 386, in Milan; but Augustine could not possibly have described it as he does in book eight with out the theological development of the intervening ten years.'~ In that decade, Augustine's u nderstanding of Paul's theology had developed together with h is u nderstanding of Paul's b iogra phy. Cou· pled with h is conviction that scripture preserved a reliable record of past events (the position that had led to his argument with Jero me over the apostles' level o f je\\'ish observance), Augustine in his response to Simplicianus produced a portrait of Paul ad /ittenzm. And seeing in Paul a model by which to understand h is own past, coupled with his conviction th at all understanding is intrinsicaJiy retrospective, Augustine produced the Augustine ad litteram of the Confossiom. The purpose of that construction, of th e "historical" Augustine, is to illustrate h is current u nderstand ing of th e ways that the timeless God save.s his falle n creature 1 t rapped in time. Auguscine emphasizes the ren·ospeccive nat ure of this description of h is past1 of his Augustine adl.ittemm. Hjs constant refrain in the ear 4

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lier "autobiographical" books is that he did not u nderstand, while living it, his own experience. "1 did not know whar you were doing with me," he nores to God (Cotife$.Sions 3-4,8, on reading HortemiM). "Very secretly, you were putting a check o n me" (4.14,23, on his orarorical ambitions). "\Vhere was 1, when I was seeking You? You were there before me, but I had departed fro m myself. I could not even find myself, much less you·~ (5.2,2, o n his quest for wisdom in Carthage). "Grad ually, though I did not realize ir, I was drawing closer" ().13,23, on listening to Ambrose). The double time frame of these first nine books, the past and the present, demonstrates Augustine's po inr about epistemology, how we know what we (think we} know. Retrospect mediates meaning. But Augustine's d ouble time frame also provides scope for his literar),. artisrry: It is this device thar gives his story its grear po ignancy. \Ve watch as the young Augustine lives his life utterly innocent of the future, while we overhear the o lder Augustine o f 397 confiding his new insights on his old life to his silent and all-knowing God. The d eeper and truer significance of all of these past events- going to school, stealing pears, read ing Cicero, joining rhe ivtanichees, quitting Africa for Italy, listening to Ambrose- was available to Augustine, Augustine claims, only long afterward, once his memory had done ics work. Retrospect is necessary for Augustine•s reader 1 also. Not until reaching che complex final books of rhe Confossiom can the reader understand the strategy of Augustine's aucobiographical narrative in books one co nine. Rather rhan beginning with the abstractions laid o ut in his d osing books, Augustine o pens with a narrative application of these absrraccions. He offers his life stOf)' in such a way thar the reader is persuaded of the truth o f the theological principles that shape it lo ng before she encounters those principles as such. Augustine's story is a concealed form of his theology; his rheology is the revealed form o f his story. Jn rhe Confessions, Augustine applied the principles of his maturing theology to two poles of historical reality: to his individual life (books one to ten) and to the creation and evenrual completion o f the universe (books eleven to thirteen). Shortly thereafrer, again using Manichaeism as a foi1, Augustine began to apply his ideas ro a median

210 · A UGUST! Nil ,\SD THIO JEWS

cime, the span of biblical history described in t he unified ca non of the Old and New Tesca ments. More ad litteram constructs emerged from ch is exercise: the god who chose Israel a nd who revealed h is Law to ch em; che Jewish people, among whom were jesus, Paul, and che och er apostles: t he society ofjews and Gentiles t hat had fo rmed t he context of the earliesc mission and had become t he fo undation of ch e chu rch. Thin king wit h the Bible in the new ways t hat h is work in the 390s had enabled, Augustine in his next major writing) Against FausttsSJ elaborated a defense of divine justice and hu man freedom on the new ter· rai n marked off in his response to Simplicianus. In so doing, he produced as well something all but w1precedented within his trad ition: a Christian affirmacion o f Jews and Judaism.

- - - - - I'ART THREE - - - - -

GOD AND ISRAEL Christian anti-je((lish inV«liz-'f- expresses ideas about jud.aism. Btlt no less, CbristiatJ tmti·]etvisb intt""Ctive expnmes ide(JS abottt Christianity. IVbm AugiiStine left Manichaeism for catholic Christianit:y, lh" f>mbraced a new concept ofGod. He achieved a tJeiV rmdentanding ofthe sourc.es ofand reasom for evil. And be embmced a mudJ larger Bibk, one that itrclutkd the Old Testament along with the New. Sttrprisin!)y fomiliar, howevet; was his tmv church's tmderstanding ofjudaism. Jn this cme rraln~ catholics and ManidJees seemed mrious0' agreed. Both clmrcbes tkcr'ied the carnality o!Jewish practices. Both cburciJ<'s condenmed the obtuseness ofjewish biblical intetpmatio>J. A>Jd both churches held that the jewish cttlt ofanimal sacr·ifices in jemsalem linked jewish 1110rship to idolatry. dJallenged by a thou!)Jtful Manichaean missiotJd.l)! on the tmseem6' }etvislmes.s oftbe scriptures atJd doctrines ofcatholic Christianit)l, Augu.stine a>Jsr/li!red tvith a brillitmt a>Jd >Jond defense. He reimagined the t~latiomhip ofGod and lsmel, and tlms he rrimagined as well dJe t~ltttionship ofhis ch11rch, past and present, to the jews.

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9 • THE WA R OF WORDS

Do I believe the gospel? )'Ott· ask me. My obedimu to its rommat1ds shows that I do. . . . I have left my fother, "9' motiN!Yj ttry zvife and tlry d1ildren and all else tbat the gospel requires; and )let)'Ott· ask me if I belietJC in tbe gospel. ... 71,. gospel is »othing other that/ tJ,. preaching a11d the precepts ofCiwist l l>ave parted with all gold and silt~er. 1 no lot~ger carr)• motU!)' hJ In), ptt;t'$i!. I am content tvitb daily food, neither caring nor concetwed abouc bow I sball eat tomorrot~ or hotv / will be clothed; a11d )'et)'Oil ask me ifI believe ;,, tJ,. gospel. ... You see me poor and meek; a peacemaker, pure iu beart; mottrtJ· i11g, lumget·ing, thirsting, and bearing persecutiom atul mmiry for ri!!/JteoJisness' sake. A>ul still)'OU dottbt nry beliefin the gospel? 1".\\J STUS, Q.UOTIOU fl\' AUGUS T! N ll", AGM.>,'ST I'AVS'1VS

5. I

E ustus was an elder conrempora ry of Augustine's and, like Augustine, he was North African. T heir paths had crossed briefly in Carthage, back in late 382 c. E. when Augustine was still a Manichaean a uditor an d a mu nicipal professor of rheto ric, and Faustus an itinerant electus and bisho p. Book five of the Collfo.<SioiJS tells the story o f their encounter. Augustine had grown agitated by the discrepancies that he noted between texts o f scientific astronomy a nd those p ious explan ations o f celestial phenomena retailed by the Ma nichees. Once Faustus arrived, other Man ichees assu red him, he \vou ld a nswer all o f Augustine1s questions. Things went othen vise. Faustus d isappointed Augustine> who soon realized from conversation chat Faustus' Jibe raJ a rts education was coo thin fo r h im to truly e ngage the issues chat Augustine had fo und so unsettling. Ulti mately, each man went his

21.j ·AUGUST! Nil ASD THIO JEWS

own way> Augusti ne off co [taly (in 383)> Faustus remaining in Nort h Africa. In 386, caught up in t he imJ'<'rially sponsored purge of Manichees in Carthage. Faustus was exiled to a b leak island in the .tvfediterranean. During the year or so that he spent there. he composed his Capitula, the work that p rovides t he scaffolding fo r Augustine's later response,

Against Famtus. tvlanichaeisn1 alo ne, Faustus urged in h is Capitula, was th e purest form of Christianity. By this he meant that his was the only chu rch u tterly untainted by the Judaizing thatJ in the Manichaean viewJ ch arac· terized and thus compromised catholic Christian ity. To help his fellow Manichaean missionar ies make this ca..o;.e, Fausrus designed a nd dearly organ ized his presentation in t he Capitula to serve as a collection of taJ king points and a rguments for use against catholic d ispu tan ts (Against Fa"''"' 1.2). Faustus opened each unit by repeati ng a catholic challen ge to Man ichaeism. "Do I believe the gospel?" (2.t). "Do I believe in the incarnatio n?" (J.t). "Do I believe rhe Old Testamenc?" (4.1). "Why do I not belie\'<' rhe pro phets?'' (12.1). His responses to all o f rhese set-piece q uestions together made up a comprehensive challenge both to traditions of catholic b iblical interpretation and to defining poin ts of catho lic doctrine: creation, the incam ation and fles hly resurrection of Christ, the bodily resurrection of the redeemed at the end of time, and so o n. More fundamentally, the Capitula called into question the very concepr of orthodoxy's doub le ca no n. O ld Testament and New. Many of t he poin Ls adduced by Faustus against catholic understa ndings o f Christ, of scripture, a nd particularly o f Paul's letters had been rehearsed much earlier by the mid -second-cent ury t heologian Marcion. Marcion, like Faustus, had emphatically disallowed any C hristian value to j ewish scriptures. The jewish god was a bad god; the jewish laY.'S were bad laws. fles hly in conceptio n {obedience to them promised material rewards, such as progeny, long life, and an earthly kingdom) and fleshly in execution (male circu mcision>physical rest o n the Sabbath, and so o n). But the t rue god had nothing to do wit h Aesh, a nd neither d id h is son, the Savior: The Christology of both Ma rcionites and Manichees was doceric. Those p laces in Paul's Je[ters that seemed to teach that Christ had a fleshly body o r t hat spoke pos-

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itively of the jews• books o r practices or laws, said the members of both g roups> were self-evidently the co rruptions o f Judaizing copyists, o r (so the ~·lanichees} misrakes that Paul corrected elsewhere in his writings. \X'e cannot pursue this comparison in any detail, because Marcion•s writings did not survive imperial orthodoxy's censure. \Xlith Faustus' work we have better luck. Augustine presented his arguments against Faustus as if the two men had been engaged in active d ebate, quoting first from Fausrus' text, then giving his rebuttal "as if Faustus had stated his o pinio ns himself, and I had replied to him" (Against Faustus u ; we will look at the reason for Augustine•s presenting his views in this way shord y). In consequence, we have most, if perhaps not all, of Faustus' Capiwla. As \Ve saw in the transcript of Augustine's acrual dispute with Fortunacus, so we see again in this ersarL transcript here: Only Augustine refers co and relates any specifically Manichaean teachings. For his part, Faustus never mentio ned any, but instead made his case entirely by ap peals to the writings important co catholic Christians. His vari· o us arguments about how to read scripture all w1ite around a single premise, namely, that the (Jewish) Law has nothing whatsoever to do with {true, Christian) revelatio n. For Faustus, the source o f this premise lay in the revelations ofMani as preserved in the canonical writings o f his own church. Nonetheless, he insistendy focused on catholic scriptures alone and astutely emphasized those places within and between Paul's letters and the gospels o n rhe ro pic of the Law that appeared at least inconsistent where nor flat-our contradictory. Faustus thus created the vivid impressio n that the mutual antagonism bet\veen Law and gospel emerged naturally, indeed inevitably, from the New Testament texts themselves. Faustus' arguments reveal not o nly his impressive command o f New Testament writings but also his coherent and critical ap proach to in terpreting them. For example, he gave Paul's epistles priority over the gospels as a source of Christian instruction, both because the)' were firsthand documents and because Paul himself had authenticated them with his own signatu re. ("1, Paul1 write this g reeting in IU)' own hand 1·~ 1 Corinthians 16:.2 1. "See with whac big letters I write to

216 • AIJClUSTISt! AND THE J l!WS

in my O\Vn hand"; Galatians G:u. Several deutero-Pauline epistles, of course> use this same form of authentication.) Bu r what abou t those places where Paul seemed to contradict not only himself b ur also Manichaean revelation as well? In Faustus• view> only t hose statements that agreed wit h tvlani's could be true. Acco rdingly>such d ifficulties could be resolved in o ne o f two ways. Jf two murually exclusive statements t ruly seemed authentically Pauline> chen cogether t hey testified to the progress t hat t he apostle himself had made in u nderstanding the (true) gospel. For example> PauJ•s view t hat jesus was a fleshly descendant of King David (Romans t:J) had obviously ceded later to his more enlightened understanding in 2 Corin thians 5=16: "From now on we know no o ne from a human point of view."' (Thus the RSV translation. The latin, however, which mirro rs Paul's G reek, fo r " human po int of view.. says simply secrmdmn carnem: literally, "according ro the flesh.•') "Even t hough we once knew Ch rist fi·om a h uman point o f view..- again, semndum carnem-"we know him that way no longer'' (Against Faustus tu). ln tractable dashes between statements in Paul's texts and t he p rinciples of Manichaean doctr ine wimessed to the larer corruptions of anon~·mous judaizers. For example, developing his comparison o f t he two passages from Romans and 2 Corint hians just cited, Faustus reasons: "If t he earlier verse [in Ro mans] is Paul's, t hen he later corrected himself (in 2 Corinthians). And if you d on 1t like t he idea that Paul ever wrote anything req uiring correction>that's fi ne too. Jn chat case, this verse (in Romans] is not his" (A~imt Faustus ILl).• Faustus demonstrated equaJ argumentative agility when he considered canonica] gospel texts. Unlike Paul's letters, he notes, the gospels' accounts are second hand: they only speak about jesus but make no claim ro be by jesus. The purported sayings ofjesus tendered by the evangelists scarcely offset the secondhand quality o f t heir ma· terial. This is so because, even when more than o ne gospel reports a saying acrribu red to Jesus, the different concexts for the saying p ro· vided by each undermine t he au thority o f what both report. Matthew and Luke, for example, each depict jesus' curing a centurion's servan t. Only Matthew, however, connects this episode with the saying "tvlany will co me from the East and co me from rhe \X'esr to sit at rhe table you

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\lith Abraham, Isaac and jacob; but the children of the kingdom will be cast in to the outer darkness." Luke•s parallel scene lacks this saying entirely (co mpare Mart hew 8:11 a nd Luke T9l· Further, t hese two parallel scenes diverge descriptively. Matchew's cent urion petitions jesus directly; Luke's cent urion, by cont rast, asks. jewish elders to present this request o n h is behalf. And fi nally, even though Luke also relates jesus• saying about the table of Abraham, the concext chat he places it in does not correspond to tvlatthew's at all. Rather rhan work ing a cureJ as in Matth ewt Luke's Jesus gives a sermon (Luke 13=24-29). "Given how uncertain we must be about rhe IhistoricalJ context of t his saying,'' observes Faustus, '"there's no reason llot to question whether jesus ever sa.id it a t all" (Against Fat1sU1.< JJ.2-J). What a bo u t the au thority possessed by these texts as products o f jesus' own apostles (as catholic n ad ition understood the Gospels o f Matthew and Jo hn to be) o r of the apostles' in timate followers ("Mark" in Peter's case> "Luke" in Paul~s)? On t his pointJ toot Faustus responds after careful d eliberation. The catholics' attribution of the first canonical gospel to the apostle Matthew the former ta..x collector is undermined, Faustus poin t.~ out, by the very la nguage of t he text it self. After jesus calls Matthew, the gospel continues, "and h e got u p and followed h im" (Matthew 9:9). Who writes like this about h imself? asks Faustus. lf Matthew the quo ndam tax collector-turned-apostle had truly authored this gospel h imself, should he not have written, "He called me, and I got up and I followed him''? This text, Faustus accordingly concludesJ was written not by the historical MatthewJ bur by some later, anonymo us author writ ing in Matthew's name (Against Famtus 17.1). Surveying a ll fou r gospels. anal),.Zing in d etail rh eir various similar it ies. and t heir evident d iffe rences, Faustus concludes that some u nknown men of a later generation- nor the original apostles, surely, and even more certainly not Christ h imself-were the actual source o f many of the evangelicaJ t raditions. These Iacer, anonymous authors~ h e held. had presented their own views under the names o f the original apostles or those o f their fo llowers p recisely to a ppropriate an a uthority that they otherwise \Vould have lacked. Bu t in fact, urges Faustus} rh e gospels "are so filled with discrepancies in their stories

218 • ALlOUST I Nl! ANI> T IH : J EWS

and wit h errors in their teachings t hat rhey canne r be made to agree either wit h in themselves or bem'een each other" (Ag.1inst Fau.shu 32.2). Accordingly~ he concluded~ Manichees were free to sort through these garbled stories, receiving as d ivin e teachings o nly whar cohered wirh Man i's revelations. In so doing, o bserved Fausrus) t he l\·lan ichees were o nly exercising the same sort of discretion with New Testament rexcs as t he cath o lics did with Old Testament texts. "You sip so daintily from the O ld Testament,'' he taunted 1 "that your lips are scarcely wet!" (Agaimt Faustus j2.7). His mocking observation made a poin t. Catholic Christians manifestly felt free to honor whatever thev fou nd useful in the O ld ' Testarnent and to utterly d isregard the rest; so roo Man ichaean Christians felt free to respect whatever they fou nd useful in the New Testament, selecting whatever sup po rted t heir faith \vh ile "rejecting the rest as inconsistent with the majesty of Christ the Lord and of God his fat her" (j2.2). The uneven quality o f the gospels themselves, Faustus continued~ makes such prudence the measure of piety: Too much of the catholic Bible related material th at was simply insulting to tr uly Ch ristian understandings of divinity. "It is for good reason that wealways bring critical d iscernment to bear o n these scriptures, which are so d iscordant a nd diverse. By considering everything, and by compar· ing some verses to others1 \Ve weigh carefuBy whether a saying could actually h ave been pro nounced by Ch rist. For your predecessors have attributed many sayings to rhe Lord that dash with his teach ings, even though th ey a ppear under his name." But now~ finall)', t he evangelists' hodgepodge o f blw1ders and falsehoods stood exposed for what it truly was: a sorry mix of rumor and opinion passed o n pseudonymously b)• nescio quibus . .. mni-Juddei~ "obscure half-Jews" 63-J). This last accusation comes at the close of Faustus' remarks (at least, as Augustine has edited them). lts message provides an impor· cant pathway back into the body of Faustus' treatise. Faustus had mounted his criticisrns of catholic scripture with g reat force and dar· ity, revealing in the process his comfortable familiarity with the texts of Pa ul's letters and of the gospels. Yet t he total number of books within t he Capitnla ded icated specifically to problems with New Testament writings is relatively small: o nly five (namely, book eleven and books t hirty to t hirty-t hree), from a given total of t h irty-three. By con-

Thi' \V.rr of \Tiords · 219

trast, assorted criticisms o f pagan , jewish, and catholic n1onotheism as opposed to Manichaean dualism merir fo u r books. Arguments a ttacking rhe very idea of divine incarnation-the catholic doctrine that Faustus especially assaults-required another n ine. Bur fully fou rteen books-by far the greatest concentratio n of Faustus' efforts-are g iven over to a thorough-:going and detailed cri tique of the themes, comma nd ments, pe rsonages, and practices that stand in the O ld Testament. In short, to quote Faustu s' own admirably succinct su n11nary, "We [Man icheesj a re enemies not of t he Law, but ofJudaism" (Against

FtU<stus 12.1). Once again, Faustus offered many of the same criticisms of judaism that Marcion had made cenw ries earlier. The character o f the Jews' god was frightfully u n-godlike. He was ignorant (not knowing where Adam was) he had had co call our to him; Genesis J:9)· He was jealous and vengeful (as he repeatedly d escribed himsel~ fo r exa mple, Exodus 20:), and frequently elsewhere). He was bloodthirsty, emotionally unsta ble, and prone to violence. Faust us warmed to h is topic: T hese books [of t he Law] . . . portray a god so ignorant of the furure char he gave Adam a command without knowing char h~ \vould break tc. ... Envy made him feat rhac a human being might ear of rh e rr~c of life and live forevel'. LateI', he was greedy fo t• blood and fat from all kmds of sacrifices, an d Jealous if t hese were offered to an~'One orhel' chan himself. At n mes his enemies infuriared him, at orhel' cimes, h is frie nds. Sometimes he dest i'O)'ed t housands of men owr lirde: ar ocher rimes) over noching. And he rh re.arened co come wit h a sword and ro spa1·e no one, whet her che 1·ighreous Ol' t he wicked. ,tGAfJ..STFAUSTUS 22 . 4

Such a morally impaired deity, Faustus cont inued, was well matched with r.he sort of heroes-pa tr iarchs, kings, and prophetswho peopled the pages of Israel's sacred scriprure: \Ve (Mantchees) are noc rh e ones who wrote char Abraham,

enflamed by his francic craving for children, did nor fu lly crust God's pl'omise char Sara his wife \Vould conceive. And chen-even

HO • .\UGUSTII'li ANO T i l E J EWS

more shamefully~ because he did so Wl[h his ,,~fe's kn owledge-he rolled around wirh a misrt'ess (Gen esis 16:2-4). And larer-in facr, on rwo diffet·em occasions-he mos r disreputably ma.l'kered his own marriage, ouc of avarice a nd greed selling Sara uuo pros· tirmion ro rwo differem kings, Abirnelech and Pharaoh, duplkirousl}' claiming thar his wtfe was hts own sisrer, because she \Vas ver)' beauciful (Genesis 20:2; l2:Tj). And whar abour Lor, Abraham's brorhet (sic1 who laywirh his own rwo daugluers once he escaped Sodom (GenesiS 19'33-35)? . . . And Isaac who, irniracing his farhet·, passed off his wife Rebecca as his sisru, so rhar he could shamefully benefi r from her {Genesis 26:])? . . . And jacob, Isaac's son, who had four wives and who rucred a round like a goar among rhem (Genesis 29-30)? . . . And judah,bis son, who slepr wirh his own daughrer-in-lawTamar (Genesis jS)? . .. And David, who seduced the wife of his own soldter Uriah, while arranging for him robe killed in barde (2 Samuel tt:4,15)? . . . Solomon, wirh his rh ree hundred wives and seven hundred concubines (1 Kings tt:l- j)? . . . T he pt·opher Hosea, who married a prosricure (Hosea 1:2-3)? . . . Moses, who commirred murder (Exodus 2:t2)? . . . Bich er rhese S[OI'ies are faJse~ ot· rhe cl'imes char rhey relare at·e real. Choose whichever opuon )''OU please. Both at•e de[t>:srable. ,tGM.'I,'S'T't:Aus·rus 12.5

••• FAUSTUS DE LIVE n E O THESE DESCR IPTIONS

with energy and lJ4n. And

ch e s heer number o f his examples also helped h im to make his po in t. Still>t hese sorts of a ccusations, and even the ways in which he made rhem, were not original to him. Faustus' broadsides againsrjewish rra · ditions and practices had roots regressing nearly half a millennium, rh rough rhe works of those second cen tu ry gentile Christian thinke rs 4

who had repudiared t he Septuaginr, a ll rhe way back to pagan critics of t he Hellenistic synagogue. And his c rit icisms o f anthropomorphic

.

.

dei ty and of t he blood sacrifices mandated bv rradirion al cult had a n even longer (and also, finally, pagan) pedigree, originaring in the de·

Tb~

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·

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bates between different schools of philosophy in the HeUenistic period.1 The long rehearsal of these argu1nenrs in Mediterranean learned culture entailed as well their equally long-lived and continually rehearsed coun terargumenrs. This rhetorical arsenal. well stocked and exceedingly stable. remained co nstant long after the dramatis persatJde o riginal to the argumen ts had changed. Carneades> for example, a pagan Platonist of the second century B.C.E., had attacked Homer's u nseemly deities while ridiculing their Sroic defenders; Iacer, Hellenistic jews and, later still. Christian apologists availed themselves of his arguments, but used them against paganism itself Pagan intellectuals had long derided circurncision. Sabbath rest. and other jewish practices; Christians (whether j ews or Gentiles) sniving against each other as well as against non-Christian Jews over in terpretations of the Septuagint, picked u p the same themes. Hellenistic Jews had long defended (and constructed) the greater an tiquity and thus the g reater prestige of Moses, the Lawt and the prophets against similar claims made by pagan Greeks in defense of their poets and philosophers: later. Christian apologists appropriated these jewish argumenrs for their own an ti pagan campaigns) Finally, many of the parcicular ways in which Faustus framed his dismissive rernarks about catholic texts as such-that they were internally inconsistent and mutually contradictory. fo r example. o r that, if they really meant what Fausrus' (catholic) opponents though t the)' meant, they would have had to have been written in a different way, o r that only two possible \vays of interpreting Old Testament stories existed and either \liaS disastrous for his opponents' case-were second nature to any of Faustus' v.'ell-educated co ntemporaries. and to Augustine in particular. Such techniques of argumentation had been Augustine•s stock in trade in his earlier life: As a professor of rhecoric 1 he would have d rilled them in to his own students. Thus~ even though Faustus and Augustine are the spokesmen for two very different types of Christianity, they each build their respective arguments against the other by using exactly the same tools, namely, the adversaria] conventions of Greco-Ro man rhetorical culture.<~ Two d istinct yet related social settings had sustained the longevity

Hl • AIJClUSTISt! AND THf! JEWS

of these methods of argumentatio n in the Greco·Roman world: the institutions o f secondary ed ucation (Hellenistic gymnasia earlier; Roman·era schools later) and the chambers of municipal govern ments (whether cit)' councils or courts of law). During the seven·plus cenruries that stretched between Alexander the Great and Augustine, the learned and the literate (for the most part, the sons of the socialfpo· litical elite) were taugh t how to presenr a persuasive case for or against some proposition by orally rehearsing traditional arguments and their coordinating traditional co un terarguments. Handbooks on grammar, style, and presentatio n, equip ped with exercises to illustrate and exemplify this contentious verbal thrust and parry, both en1bodied and enabled the extraordinary stability of the rhetorical curriculum.. The goal o f such an education was ..to train rhetoricians who co uld argue for the meaning of a text that a given sit uation required >by means of a set of standard topoi for either case.' ' In o ther \\:ords, this education focused not so much o n how to in terpret a text-texts were ambiguo us, and could carry many meanings- but rather on how to conduct an argmnent about how to in terpret a text.S Public disputes pro pelled this pedagogic modeL Those trained in rhetoric imagined, practiced, and perfo rmed interpretive argument as an agim, a trial o r contest o r co mpetition. (The o riginal home of this word was G reek athletics.} From courts of law and city senates to d isputes between educated opponents over literat ure o r philosophy, this contentious way of framing discussions about meaning, together with its repertoire of srock challenges and defenses, passed easily and naturally into Chr istian literary production. T heological treatises o n biblical inrerpretation rh us im itated and evoked courtroom argument, and sometimes courtroom d rama as well. \\/hen Augustine framed his response ro Faustus as if the two men had actually been d isputing wirh each orher, he sit uated his counterarguments within the familiar mode of rhetorical and fo rensic co mpetition. Among irs many benefi rs, this style of presentation- a virtual debate rather than an actual one-netted its author two undeniable advan tages: He shaped the d iscussion, and he had the last word.6 Scope for creative talent rested with an individuaJ•s ingenuity in deploying the materiel of this culture of contention. Ingenuity, resti·

Tb~

\Var of \Vords ·

22}

lied Augustine, as well as eloq uence Faustus had in abundance (f'loqtsio suavis, ingenio callidsts; Agaimt Faustus 1.1). "\Vhen he came to Carthage," Augustine recalled in the Cotifessiom, "1 fo und h im g racious and pleasam with words.... an d I was delighted by the feeli ng a nd the force thar he brought co his d iscourse, an d by rhe fitting language which Aowed with facility to clothe h is ideas . . .. Every day he practiced delivery o f a discourse, and so acquired a verbal facility which was made even more agreeable and attractive by the cont rolled use of h is mind a nd by a certain na turaJ grace1' (Confessions ) .6,JO-u ). Augusti ne's fellow clergymen certain ly felt the fo rce of Fa ustus' talent: When a cop)' o f Faustus' work "against correct Chr istian faich and carholic t ruth'' came into their hands) rhey urged Augustine to respond (Against Fan· stus 1.1). In terms of ingenuity and eloquence, of course, Augustine was more than Faustus' match. Nevertheless 1 h is response to Faustus-arduous and belabored, for all its Aashes of fierce o riginality-betrays how much hard thinking Augustine needed to do to a ns\ver Faust us' challenge. \X'hat made Faust us so dangerous-dangerous enough to call fo rth th e massive coun terattack that Augustine mowued-wa.s not h is re-using the centuries-old cri ticisms of ea rlier Christian heretics or his depiO)'ing the derogations o f their common culture's rheto rical a rsenal. \Xlhat made Faustus so dangerous was the \vay rhat he built his case by a ppealing to so many of the a nti-jewish attit udes and traditions of interpretatio n that the ~.fanichees held in common with Augustine's own church.

••• one o f rhe champions o f Latin Christianicy, well illustrates some of the sources o f Augustine's p redica ment. Tercullian had flourished in the decades to either side of the turn o f T ERTU L LJAN o F CARTliAOE>

the third cenru ry. A brillianr stylist, o utsta ndingly argumenta tive even within an a rgu mentative rhetorical culture, Terrullian was a controversialist who relished h is work. He waged verbal war unceasingly against wh omever and whatever he viewed as an enemy of h is church: pagans,j <.'\I'S, and heretics (the usual unholy trinity for combative theo logians): Christians unduly atrracted to ph ilosophy (which rhe well-

H ..J • ;\U
educated Tertullian himself used freely when shaping his own arguments)~ var ious feminine vanities (cosmetics. coiffures. jewelry); moral laxity of an)' so n (not wanting to fast. fo r example; o r not \Vanting, in rime of persecution, to die). He finally wandered o ff into schism, joining a communiry-designared "Montanist" by orher Ch ristianswhose rigor and zeal matched his own. So fundamenral to subsequent Latin Christianiry was the considerable body of Terrullian•s wo rks, however. that his writings survived, highly valued by larer generations of North African catholics who chose to overlook his schismatic lapse.' Amo ng Tertullian's many treatises was his massive po lemic against the mid-seco nd-century Chr istian theologian Marcio n (inrroduced on p. 67 above). In this work, Tertullian did not quote his op· ponent when refuting him in the way that O rigen would later quote Celsus and as Augustine would later quote Faustus. But he d id say enough fo r us ro reconsrrucr much of Marcio n's rhought, fo r which, ironically, Against J\t!arcitm remains o ne of the best surviving sources. Marcion had established his theo logy by compiling the Antithese~ a collection of quotatio ns from Paul's lerrers and a version of l uke•s gospel juxtaposed to select passages from the Septuagint. (This fo rmar itself attests to the Greco· Roman schoolroom, with irs fondness for epitomes and excerpts rarher than whole texts.) The contrasts between his selections from these two sets of sources enabled Marcio n to articulate his pro found conviction that the gospd of Christ and of Paul his apostle co uld in no way be reco nciled with the god. the laws, and the behaviors depicted in j ewish scripture. Some fifty years later, insisting on the sanctity, the mora1ity1 and the in nate Ch risrian significance o f jewish scripture. Tercullian vigor o usly rebutted Marcio n•s position. His strategy was simple. Wherever Marcion had identified a conflict between the Law and the gospel, between the Old Testament and the New Testament. Tertullian deflected Marcion•s criticism away fro m the Jewish god and the Jewish texrs and onto the jews themselves: their behavio rs) their practices 1 their ancient 4

sins, their more recent military disasrers. No less ingeniously, Terrullian also accused his two quite differen t polemical targets of commitring the exact same interpretive error. ('fo r

Thi \V.rr of \Vords • 225

frmn the Jew the heretic has accepred guidance" (Against Marcion J.J,I). Marcio n and t he Jews, Tertullian insisred, stood united in a fellows hip of ignorance. Both read the biblical texts without the requisite spir itual u nderstanding. Accordingly, both failed to realile thac the Law and che p ro phets had lo ng ago foretold the incarnate Christ of TertuUian's fai th, whose life and death, resurrectio n and second coming, perfectly conformed co the messianic p ro nouncemen ts of Israel's scrip tures. Further, Tertullian's lin king of ?vtarcion and the Jews, absurd as actual descriptio n, v.ras extremely shrewd as invective. O n the o ne hand, this strategy allowed Terrullian to affirm, co appropriate, and even to amplifY Marcion's disparaging remarks abour those Jews and that J udaism that cheir equally hostile reading of t he Jewish scriptu res had created. And on the ocher hand, this same strategy enabled Tertullian-at the same moment and by the very same arguments- to assert, against Mardon, the Chrisrjan authority of the jewish books. The rnore Marcion criticized the jewish god, the more Tertullian reclaimed that god for his own Christianity by repudiacing God's recalcit rant ancient foiJowers. Jn the end, Marcion ceded fi rst place as the target ofTertullian's rhetoric, fo r Terrullian had identified j udaism as the source of Marcion 's error. "Let the heretic now give up bo rrowing poison from t he Jew!" (Against Marcion j.8,1). As much as he rails against .Marcion in Against Marcion, in b rief, Tertullian rails against jews and Judaism even more. In so do ing, Tertullian presented himself as simp!)' and piously repeating the repudiation of che Jews that he (like Marcion) read not o nly in che gospels and in Paul's letters but also (unlike Marcion) in the jewish scriptures themselves. (To make this case, TertuUian availed himself of argu ments that appeared earlier in Justin's Ditdogste with Trypbo; see p. 70 above.) T he Law given co Israel was indeed harsh and punitive, he said. and this was so because Jsrael needed harsh punishmem. Through such laws God sought to chastise and discipline the reprobate nation. ''This Law was nor laid down because o f its author's hardness"-as Marcion wro ng ly had daimed-"but .. . [in o rder] to tame the people's hard ness" (Against Mat~ion 2.19,1). And Jewish law as such- that is, t he Law as interpreted by Jews-had no intrinsic significance for Christianity, Tertullian said, again agreeing in principle with

HG •

AUOUST I Nl! AND T I-t I! J EWS

Marcion. (He does hint, however, at the Law's figurative o r p rophetic significance, which secured its spirit ual value for Ch ristianity. ·~1 say nothing o f the Lanr>s secret and sacred meanings"; " I say noth ing of rhe figu rative sense of chat healing": j. t9,2; 22,1.) Thus j esus and the heroic fi rst generation of t he church, correctly understanding scripcure, explicitly repudiated fleshly Jewish practices. jesus h ad defied the jewish understand ing of the Sabbath (4.12,t); his apostles had tu rned aside from "judaism itself" (ipso Judaismo; j.22,j); and Paul, composing Galatians>wrote "the p rimary letter against Judaism,'' a bolish ing the "ancient law" even as God h imself had done (j.2,t). Yet still t he jews persisted. By contin uing in their flesh ly o bservances-even after t he resurrection of Christ, whom th eir own prophets had said t hey would mu rder; even after t h e p unitive destruction of rheir city and their Temple, the o nly place where they could en· act most of their wrong-headed ancestral practices~ even after being driven out of thei r native land in p unish ment fo r t heir rejection of God's son- the jews confirmed all rhe reasons why God had given them th e Law co begin with. They were stiff-necked, stubborn, belligerent> utterly unrepentan t. Accordingly, concluded Tertullian, Israel was punished forever with e:\;'ile. Indeed, t heir permanent d isplacement had been instigated by Christ himself, who in the Psalms had delllanded of his Father> "Scacrer them in your m ig ht" (Psalm 59:12;

Against Marcio11

j.2j11-4).

For all their theological diffe rences, ch en) Ma rcion a nd Tertullian also exhibit striking similarities. Both employ the same rhetoric of argumentation co present their respective theological positions (insisting, fo r instance, that o nly two ways of reading rhe Septuagint exist, the wrong way and t heir way). Both complain that t heir Christian opposition errs when interpreting contested texts-Luke's gospel, Paul's lerters, a nd che Sept uagin t- by failing co construe t hem wit h spiri tual understanding. And both articulate and refine th eir respecrive positions by appealing to demeaning images o f jews and j udaism, t he better to accuse their C hristian oppo nent of reading behaving, and consequently erring like "the Jews." But the "}etv.\"' of their argnments are a amstruct: They are «rhetorical jews)'' 1wt historical }etvs. The image o f Jews used in ch ese polemics did 1

T!Je War of W'ordr · ll7

not derive fro m these authors' o bserving and then describing their Jewish contempo raries> but from their deploying literary-rhetorical techniques in disputes over sacred texts. (For that matter, Paul and the evangelists had similarly generated their own rhetorical Jews in o rder to express their convictions about "true" or "co rrect" Judaism, for them oriented around their various convictions about Christ~ pp. j840 above.) Put diffe rently: The "jews" of mcb intm·Cbristian writillgs, whether those of fo rmative first-century authors (evenwally gathered in the New Testament) or those of their later theological avatars (such as Valentin us, Marcion,Justin, Terrullian, Origen~ Faustus, and, with a difference, as we shall see, Augustine) are first ofall a rhetorical stmtegy. They are conjured in o rder ro assist their authors in positioning themselves advantageously within the agim of intra-Christian theological dispute, which for Paul and the evangelists had been an intra-Jewish dispute as welLS

••• T HE T ROPE O F Jewish

blood offerings well illustrates the bookishness that shapes rhe "Jews" of so much of ancient intra-Christian polem ic. Marcion, fo r example, had disparaged chis people and their god for their murual and unseemly interest in such sacrifices, o n conspicuous display rhroughout the Five Books of Moses. Both Chr isr and his aposde Paul, said Marcion, had renounced nor o nly these sacrifices but also all of the other fleshly Je\\1sh practices that went with themfood laws> circumcision, fasts and feasts, the Sabbath, and so on. (Marcion was aided in this interpretation, remember, by purging his copies of the gospel and of Paul's letters of any positive reference to Jewish tradition; p. 67 above.) The god who had commanded such carnal practicesJ Mardon urged, was accordingly co be abandoned along with these practices themselves. After all, Christians had been given a new revelation in order to live sectmd:un spiritum, according to the spirit, not sectmdtuu cartJetJJ, according ro the Aesh (Agaimt Marcion 2. 18J2-3 o n the Law; ) .2, 1-3 o n Paul's principled and-Judaism). Tertullian, though he repudiated MarciOI\ also agreed with hin\ and he even amplified ~·larcion•s anti-jewish critique. He ascribed differe nt motives, however, to the god who had commanded the cult.

HS ·AUGUST! Nil ASD THIO JEWS

Mandates of sacrifice appear in the jewish Bible, Tertullian explained, because of the desires of the Jewish people themselves, not because of the desires of their god. God through his Son had given Israel such elaborare ritual protocols for good reason, namely, to distract them from their perennial tendency co make and to ado re idols (Agaimt Mar·

cion 2.18,3). So too with the Jewish food laws: undisciplined earing had stimulated Israel's febrile lust for idols in the past, "for the people l>ad eaten and drunk, and risen up to pla)l\'-the notorious incident of the

Golden Calf (Exodus 32:6; cf. Paul's use of this incident against the Corinrhians' former idol worship, 1 Corinthians t0:6-t4; p. 59 above). All the pro hibitions and conditions about acceptable foods were likewise part of God's effort ro instill in the Jews some ethic of selfrestraint. (\Virhout success1 Terrullian notes, for while the wandering Jews are mann~ "the bread o f angels/' in the deserr, rhey also "han-

kered after the cucumbers and pumpkins of Egypr"; A~imt Marcio11 2.18,1- J). But God did not care about such trivialities in themselves. And he

certainly had no need of blood offerings, a.s he had plai nly declared rhrough his prophets: "\Vhat ro me is the multirude of your s.acri·

fices>" (Isaiah t:n). Thus, Tertullian concludes, "we should appreciate that g reat care by which, when this people inclined to idolan·y and transgression, God sought to artach Israel co his own worship by com· manding for himself, as if he needed them1 rituals similar to those of

this world Ithat is, of pagans]. He did so precisely to divert this people from the sin of making idols" (Agaimt Marcio11 2.18,3). Like Marc ion, in other words, Terrullian also saw blood offerings as intrinsically wrong worship. j ews, like pagans, they both held) were attached to blood sacrifices. And this \Vas because jews, like pagans, were drawn to the worship of ido ls. But unlike ?vlarcion, TertuiJian dis-

tinguished between the jews and their god, and consequently between the je11;sh god and the pagan gods. Those "troublesome scrupulosities" about culr thar in Mardon'.s view had made Jsrael's god seem like

a bad god had actually been given by the good God for a good purpose, though to a bad people, Israel (Against Ma1~iotJ 2.18,3; 4.Jl,J-'7). AJI the time, energy, and ingenuity that both Marcion and Tertul· lian expend in their quarrel about the purposes, sources.1 and signifi-

Tht \tlar of \Vords · 229

cance of jewish sacrifices, however, can d istract us from a simple fact: Neither of these Christian combatants had ever seen a j ew offering sacrifices. This was so fo r two reasons, each o f which derives from the same peculiarity of Roman era j udaism. For cen turies, Jews had largely re stricted their cultic activity to the Temple in jerusalem. After 70 c.E., when Rome destroyed rhe Temple, even those jews who lived near jerusalem ceased ro make o fferings. The idea of sacri fice} variously reinterpreted and memorialized, continued to live o n. Prayers, said some authorities, or charity o r o ther pious aces, migh t now take the place of offerings. O r study of the bib lical rules o f sacrifice might acceptably substitute fo r the o nce-performed act. A penitent heart was the acceptable sacrifice that effected atonement, and so on. The acwal perfo rmance of Jewish sacrifice, however- by Marcio n's day and, ac cordingly, by Tertu llian's-had lo ng ceased .' But in the dries of the Mediterranean Diaspora- the only places where Marcion (who ultimately lived in Ro me) o r Tertu llian (who lived in Carthage) would have encountered actual Jews- llo jws bad 1!1-'i?r of fot'e.d sacrifice.\ itltn~y case. Before 70 c.l!., when and ifd iasporajews chose to close the distance between their home cities and the Temple) they went on pilgrimage. Otherwise, their voluntary contribution of the half-shekel/two-drach ma "Temple tax" enabled t heir lo ng-d istance inclusion in the atonement accomplished through rhe cult;, while the)' remained at home. Fu rther, the place where Jews would congregate as a community in rhese diaspora ci ties, often called a proseud;e ("prayer house.,; see p. 20 above), makes the same po inr: Unlike the temples o f majoriry culrure, jewish gathering places co ntained no altars. Syna gogues/ prayer houses were not sires of sacrifice.:IO \X'hy, then) d id so many educated Christians aim all chis rhetorical fire power at a jewish practice that had long ago ceased in Jerusalem and chat locally had never existed at all? There were many reasons. To focus o n sacrifice enabled these critics ro d raw o n the rich arsenal of ar gume nts o riginally supplied by the Academy, the Platonic rrad ition that had criticized anthro po morphic deities, their cults, and their (Stoic) d efenders. ln o ther words, tried-and rrue rhetorical ammuni tion on this general topic lay read)' to hand. Also, and again by d rawing 4

4

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4

4

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ljO • AU
on originally Platonic notions to use against jewish sacrifice, Chr istia n thin kers could place themselves meaningfully within Med iterranean antiquity's meta physical universeJ wherein an immaterial Jdea was always better, both moral1)' and spirirually~ than its temporal>ma terial en· acrment. {It had been o n this basis that some first-centu ry Hellenistic jewsJ imerpreting Tora h aJiegoricall)' ro understa nd its '' in ner" o r "spirit ual" mea nings, h ad left off actually pe rfo rming t he bib lical commandmen ts. Philo had rejected their behavioral inferencesJ but accepted th eir in terpretive priori ties~ Migration of Ahn1hmn 16.89-91; p. 49 a bove.) And finally, by insisting on the centrality, indeed the absolute necessity, o f blood sacrifices for j udaism. Christians cou ld make the polemical point t hat t he Temple's destruction had made t he practice of Judaism itself definitively impossible. Accord ing ro the Jewish scrip tures, argued rhese Christians,Jews could not"literally" fulfill any of the Law's ordina nces o n o fferi ngs. By extension, rhenJewish efforts to keep o ther commandments "lirerally"-the food laws> circumcision> Sabbaths and various holidays-should cease as well." Furth er> in the litu rgical uni\•erse of th e chu rches, readings culled from rhe Septuagint and even from t he gospels contin ued to conjure the narra tive presence of Jewish offerings, while in t he real world of the Greco-Ro man city, th e gods o f th e majority acrually did receive cult: This happenstance passively underscored t heir similarity. lmperiaJ efforts to mandate cult-Decius' in the mid -third century, Diocletian•s in the early ):ears of th e fo urth century-also reinforced fo r Ch ristians the idea chat sacrifices were tan tamoun t to "paganism'' (p. 88 a bove). Constanrine and his heirs onl)' strengthened this associa tion by isolating sacrifices as rhat pagan practice most offensive to them ('·worth less" o r "empty" in rhe la nguage o f t he TheodQsian Code 16.10,2, pro hibiting such offerings in 341). While adoratio n o f rhe im perial image, and urban celebrations of the emperor and his family, contin ue long after 312, a nimal offerings d ropped our o f this liwrgy. FinaJiy) Goct•s evident sanctio n of t he Ro man destruction o f the Temple and t hus his sanction of Jewish cu lt aligned the facts o f h isto ry wit h the princip les of Christian polemic: "Aeshly'' interpretations were wrong, and animal sacrifice offensive a nd objectionable. Christian a rgumems against sacrifice also d rew t he sting fro rn jibes

The \Votr of \tfords • 131

(whether made by pagans or by t hose Christians who disputed the Christian relevance ofjewish sacred texts) t hat t he jews• god had been "ta ken captive" along with his people (so Min ucius Feli....: in a secondcentury Ch ristian apology, T1Je Octavius, tOA; so similarly Faustus, t\VO cent uries la ter, Against F~ustus 15.1). Ro n1e's gods had nor defeated Israel's god; rather (as the con II~ Judaro.< t radition made clear), God had never wanted a sacrificial cu lt to begin with , so he used t he Rornan s, finally, to end it. All of these factors- the social and cult ural experience oflife in th e Greco-Roman city; t he pagan imperial efforts to mandate un iversal b lood offerings: biblical depictions of sacrifice; rh e philosophicaJ view t hat "higher" worsh ip was spiritual, not material-comb ined to create, to support, and co strengthen this polemical association of blood sacrifice, idols, and judaism. Small wonder* then, that in 361 c.E., when Constantine's nephew, rhe emperor Julian, renounced the Ch ristianity of his child hood for the worship of the tradit ional gods, he also decided to rebuild t he Temple in Jerusalem. Julian knew t hat Christian apology had long associated Judaism with paga nism precisely on account of t h is issue of sacrificial cult. While flamboyantly reesrablishing paga n sacrificial rituals, he accordingly decided to reestablish t he Jewish cult roo . "The jews agree with t he Gentiles/' he noted, ••except that t hey believe in o nly o ne god. That is indeed peculiar to them a nd strange to us, since all t he rest we have in a manner in common with t hem: temples, sanctuaries, altars, purificatio ns. and ce rtain prece pts"' (Ago1inst tbe GaJileam joGB). And a rebuilt Temple, j ulian knew, would embarrass t he chu rch, which had made so much a pologetic use out of its destruction (see p. 85 above). Julian d ied in 363, too soon to effect much of his program, and his plans to restore t he jews' temple came to naught. But his efforts only enhanced the power of this old and provocative contlation of blood sacrifice, idolatry, and Judaism. Some twenty-plus years after ju]ian•s death. t hese two great rivers of Christian anti-j udaism, th e heterodox and the orthodox, coursed together thro ugh Faustus' Capitula. tvlarcion and tvlani stood a t the source of th e former t radition. At the headwaters of t he or her, specifically in North Africa, stood Terrullian, \vhose deployme nt of antijewish invective-whet h er to rebu ffJewish ridicule of Ch risr:ianity {On

ljl • AUOUST I Nl! ANI> T I.. E JEWS

Spectacks JO.s-6), to undermine judaism (Against dJe jws), or to rebut Christian competitors (Agaimt Marcio11)- recurred throughout his numerous works. His mid-third-cenrury theological heirt Cyprian> the g reat bishop of Carthage, in his turn compiled an influe ntial anrhol· ogy of biblical proof texrs to aid preachers in mounring such argu· menrs. The first book of these testimonia, To Quiriniu.~ offered q uorarions from scripture selected to show that ('the Jews~ as fo retold, have departed from God and lost his favor .. . while the Christians have succeeded co their place" (To QuiritJius 1.5). FamHiar talking points shaped Cyprian's headings: that the jews worshiped idols, that they murdered the prophets, thar rhey would lose j erusaJem, that spirituaJ circumcision supersedes fleshly circumcision, that baptism alone washes away the blood of Christ stai ning the Jewish people, and so on. To Qttirinim was frequendy mined by later generations of catholic polemicists and preachers. And so g reat was Cyprian's infl uence that numerous later polemical wri tings- Ag(Jimt the]etvsJ On Motfnt Sinai alld Mount Zion, On dJe Unbeliefof tbe jews, On CalcuLJting dJe Date of Easterborrowed authori ty by circulating under his name. Thus while Faustus owed his negative assessment of New Tesramenr cexts and of the heroic figures of Israel's past to rraditions specific co his own commu· niry, much of his critique of jews and j udaism simply echoed \vhat generations of more o rthodox North Africans had already heard in their own churches.12 Fauscus' clever appeals to and manipulations of these two traditions of anti-Jewish invective. together with his own argumentative ingenuity> dearly unnerved Augustine's colleagues. Insisting that behavior and doctrine gave the true measure of a person•s religious commi tments, Faustus urged chat North African Christians, at the end of the day, differed little from North African pagans. Shared cus· toms, a co mmon calendar, and similar commitments to the idea of a single hig h god> he o pined, all underscored rheir essential similarity. And since Jews (as catholic traditio n had long claimed) were really much like pagans-their traditions of sacrifice as well as (in the Manichaean view) their commitment ro a single god both pointed in this direction-all three groups) seemingly differem, actually consti· cured a single community. Jn terms of theology and praxis, Faustus as-

The \flar of \Vordr · 2Jl

serced, only the l\·fanichees rruly stood apart. ""In our belief and o u r worship,'' he explai ned, we resemble neirhet• rhe pagans. . . . nor rhe Jews. Nor, propet'l}' speaking, are we in schism from ~'Ou carholics. True, both you and we acknowledge and worshtp Clutsr. Bm our belief and worshtp are d iffere m from yours, and in schisn1, little distinguishes rhe newer group from rhe original. . . . (c's fro m t he pagans, rarher, char you·ve raken rh e readung of a single divtne principle as rhe sout'ce of all rhing.s. You've ch anged th eir sacrifices inco your Jove· feas[S1 [heir idols in co your marryrs (whom }•'OU pray ro like rhey pray co idols!}. Ltke rhe pagans, you a ppease [he dead wirh \l.:ine and feasts. You keep genrile holida)1S-rhe firsr of each monrh, rhe january new }"t'at·, [he summer sols[ice. And your way of living has remained jusr like rheirs. J>lainly,)rou. are in schism from t hem! Your sole distinction is where )•'OU hold your meetings. ln chat regard, you simply imirared rhe jews, who separared from Genu les bur \l.:ho, in facr, are also JUS[ like rh em. T l'Ue.)e\YS have no idols. Buc rh ey used remples and sacrifices and altars and pdesrs, and a whole round of sacrificial cet•emontes exacdy like the gemile ones. though even more supersririous. And Jews, like rhe pagans and like }··ou, also hold ro a single divine principle. In s hot't 1 bot h you and the Jews are mere break-away groups from rhe pagans: }'OUr meetings may be separare) bm your beliefs and practices at•e virtually th e same . .. . In face, only cwo [ruly disci ncr groups exisr: )•'OU Gendles, and we Manichees . .t(i AtNST'f'AUS TUS

!O.J - 4

But when he so ch ose, Fausru s could easily tu rn c.hcs.e arguments around, a nd taunt catholics wit h their resembla nce to Man ichees. O nce aga.in. he urged that behavior gave the crue m easu re of belief (a poinc t hat Faustus also made about his own Christianjty; Against Fau·

stus j. l , quoted o n p. 2:13 a bove). " I reject circurndsion as disgusting~ so do you .. .. I reject sacrifice as idolatt)'; so do you.... Both of us regard Passover and Sukkot as useless and needless .. . . Both of us despise and deride ch e var ious laws against m ixing types of doth, or species o f

134 • AUOUSTINl! AND T I-t!! JEWS

a nimals.... You cannot blame me for rejecting the O ld Testament, because you reject it as much as J do . ... Yo u deceirfuJiy praise with your lips what you hate in your heart I'm just not deceitful, that's all" (Against Fat1stu.s 6. t). "Your Christianity, just like m ine) is based on the belief that Christ came to demO)' t he Law and t he prophets. You p rove this by what you do, though you deny it with what you say" (18. 1). Catholics, he said, hypocrit icall)' clung to the Old Testament while despising everyth ing that it enjoined an d represented. tvlanichees) more honest. forth rightly rejected these unsavory Jewish books. But a core of corn mon convictions actually united the two Christian communities, Faustu s suavely suggested , despite the ca tholics' un wiJijng ne.ss to acknowledge this fact. The bond shared by Manichees a nd catholics was their p rincipled and mut ual contempt fo r rhe teachings and the practices ofJudaism.

10 •

THE REDEMPT ION O F T HE FLESH

Faustus the 1Wanichee blasphemed agai1Jst the latu and the propbets, agaimt God who is their soutn) ,md against the inca,.tJation ofChrist. He convicted all these b)' appeal to tbe Netv Testat>teiJ~ tbe texts ofwbicb, be also claimed, bad been cot'Ytfpted. Against bim I ttJrote a /mgt, tvork.

E

a rlier ca tholic authorities may have provided Faustus wit h valu-

able sources fo r much of his anti-jewish rhetoric, but they also provided Augustine with a ready model fo r rebut ting him. Augustine could have done what we have already seen j ustin and Tertullian do: deAecc criticism from the Jewish scriptures by training it instead o n the Jewish people_ And Augustine also could have deflected Faustus' criticisms of o rthodox doctr ine by berating h is o pponenr•s abiliry to think "spiri tually." T his larrer cactic had the a dded advancage o f ena bling the speaker to ident il)' his c'unspirit ual" Christian opponent with the unspiritual]ews, whose putative carnaljl)', sntbbornness, and s pite inured ch em. like h im, to t he n uth o f sou nd and spiritual doctrine. B)' u sing s uch arguments) Terrullian had reviled l\·farcion fo r his 'Jewish'' e rro rs, and Faust us had equated cath olic p racrice and belief wit h j udaism. But t he scripted back-and-fo rth of this adt~erms !udaros rhetoric eviden tly did nor tempt Augusrine. Enabled, perhaps impelled by all his hard t hin king in the 390s-on the figure a nd the rheology of the apostle Pau l, o n ~vconius and his views on the positive correspondence o f Law and Gospel, on divine justice and h u man freedom. o n understanding che Bible ad litttm:ml as well as secttndum spirittm:- Augustine had begun co thin k about God, time, and scripture in new ways. And

lj6 ·AUGUSTI NE ,\N'D THIO J IOWS

rhese new ideas, in turn, spurred him to rerh ink received ideas about Christianity's relationship with Judaism, and abour j udaism itself, both past and p resent. Contributing to this efforr, roo, was the latest round in his o ngoing co nflict wirh jerome over Paul's tercer ro the Galatians. Back in 394, ar work on his own Pauline commentaries, Augustine had challenged Jerome's interpretation o f the quarrel between Peter and Paul as Paul relared it in Galatians l :u - 14 {above} p. t86) . .A.t issue between these C\VO apostles was \vhether gentile Ch ristians needed ro convert to Judaism in order to regular ize their staws within the Ch risrian movemenr. Jerome} following an established interpretive tradition, had asserred rhat their quarrel had been a p retense enacted fo r the edification of rhe co mmunity. Peter and Paul should be understood, he explained, on rhe analogy of "rwo o rators in a court o flaw whose dispute is not real but simulated for rhe sake of rheir respective clients." Both men knew, said j ero me, that Christ had ab rogared rhe Law. Augustine had objecred strenuously. How could Jero me main tain rhat Paul had deceived nor only his and Peter's listeners by p retending ro quarrel but also the u ntold generations of later hearers of the New Testament by deliberately providing a false account of rhis same event (Le~te>· 28.),4-5)? At stake, Augustine felt, was nor o nly the authority of biblical interpretation but ultimately the m tthfulness of t he biblical rext and, therefore, the aut ho rity of scripture irse)(' Th ree years passed, all wit hout response fro m j ero me. (lr tur ned o u t t hat chis letter went missing. jerome fi nally read it only years later, once Augustine made and sene a fresh copy.) Thus arow1d 397-chat is, approximately as he worked on Confessions and shortly before read ing and responding to Faustus' Capitula- Augustine again wrote to jerome. In this later co mmunication, he reh erated his earlier points while adding a further challenge to the o lder man's interpretation. \Vhat would have been wrong in any case) Augustine now asked, if these Christian aposrlcs, Peter and Paul, were still living according ro the Law's commands? "After all, Paul was a jew," Augustine observes. Thus he, as Peter also) would have maintained his peopJe•s tradi tional practices even after becoming a Christian. Indeed, they would have had no reason not to (Leite>· 40 ·4Al·

The Redemption <Jf tht FleJb · 237

Augustine grounded h is assu mption char these two Christian aposd es had condn ued ro Live Jewish lives in part on h is reading o f l Cori nth ians 9:20, where Paul had said "l have become ro rh ejews like a j ew, in o rder chat I may gain rheJews." Paul did nor mean by chis that he hypocritically dissembled, Augustine insisted, merely acting "like a jew•' in order to gain jewish members fo r the church. That sort of reading ran down rh e same slippery slope as d id Jerome•s on Galatians 2, a nd Augustine would have none of ir. He fu rther reasoned t hat, if Pa ul's words were taken ro irn ply char he only mimed respectful piety when enacting the Law, th en rh e rest of h is statement ("to those outside the Law J became as o ne outside the Law"'; r Corin thians 9:22) might likewise be taken as meaning that he had also (albeit insincerely) worshiped idols in ord er co win Gentiles. If Paul had obsenred those sacrament4 [t his is Auguscine's term for Jewish riresj because he pretended that he was a jew in order co gaul the jews, why did he nor also offer sacrifice with rh e Gentiles since he became like someone wirhour the Law fo1· th ose who were wirhouc rhe Law, in orde1· that he might gain t hem, roo? Bur instead, he acted as someone who was a jew b)' birt h, and he said all these t hings nor so rhar he might deceitfully pretend co be what he was nor, bur because he thought cha r he might mercifull}' help these people in that war

Therefore, concluded Auguscine, this passage in 1 Corinthians arrested to the Aposd e's compassion as well as to h is integrity. Becoming "like a Jew'' a nd "like a Gencile" did nor mean pretetuliiJg to be either a jew o r a Gentile. Rather>it ind icated Paul's act of imaginative identific.acion with Jews and Gentiles. Paul sho\ved the sort of compassion to these people (be t hey Gentile o r Jew) that he, were he in t heir situation-that is, nor yer in Christ-would have wanted them to show ro him. But his display of Ch ristian compassion) Augustine firmly insisced, d id not call into question Pa ul's sincerity in honoring jewish observance (Le~m- 40-4,6). Further, co ntinued Augustine> Paul clearl),. un dersrood chat the

lj8 · AllGUSTII'·t! ANO TU I! J l!WS

problem with rh e Law- and thus with Peter's fear of t he "circumcision party," which had led him to advocate j ewish practices fo r gencile Christians in Antioch (Galatians 1:14)-was IJot the Law itself, nor even ch ose r itual practices (sacrmnenta) surrounding its o bservance. Augustine had long held that these had their sou rce in the divine will an d were, therefore, good (Christian Teaching J.6,JO; p. 193 above). The p roblem was a false belief abos1t rh e Law, namely, rh at it was necessary fo r salvation. O f course, in t he period before C hrist came, the Law indeed had been necessary tOr salvation. {Otherwise, notes Augustine> "the Maccabees would have become martyrs fo r the Law wit hout purpose or benefit"; an allusion to 2 .Maccabees 7.) But o nce Ch risr had come, died , and been raised , the profoun dest mean ing o f Israel's sacred signs and enactments had been made dear. The Law poi need to Christ h imself (Letter 40-4,6). Peter of course had also known rh at t he Law was no lo nger necessary for salvatio n. Under pressure from the "ci rcumcisers;' however, he had urged gentile C hristians in Antioch to take o n Jewish ancestraJ practices, beginn ing with circumcision. To do ch is, Augustine assu med, Peter woL~d have to have acted as if he had though t t hat those practices were still necessary for salvation. How else could he have hoped to persuade th ese Gentiles to take on such a burden? This was che "pretense" o r "hypocrisy" (sinwlatio) fo r which Paul h ad repri· manded h im> as the apostle later recounted in Galatians 2 (Letter 40.4s). Fu rther, Augustine continued, when Paul himself renounced ch e "evil" (mtlltun) to wh ich other Jews adhered, when he regarded "as loss a nd rubbish" rhe prerogarives o fj ewishness t hat he himself h ad formerly valued (Philippians }8), he had in m ind precisely those erro rs of interpretacion an d belief about the Law that non-Christian Jews still Gved in. Bur Pau] certain ly never derogated rhe Law as such, Augustine insisted. And th e indictment that Paul rendered in Ph ilip pians surely d id not encompass rhe "ceremonies of rh e Law when chose were observed because rh ey were the customs o f the fathe rs. For that llegitimatej reason, Pa ul himself stiJI observed them-again, not because rh ey were necessary fo r salvationt as some o f the Jews r.houghr, nor to enact a false pretense, somerhing for which he had rebuked Peter" (Let-

The Rt'drmpti(HI of tbt Flesh · 239

ter 40-4)6). Thus, he urged, at issue in An tioch, pure and sin1pl'\ was whether gentile believers needed to keep Jewish law in o rder to be saved in Christ. They did not. Peter's action had been truly m istaken, and Paul had truly corrected him. With exemplary humility, Peter had ac· cepted this public reprimand; and Paul accurately reported the incidenr, the record of which \Vas authoritatively preserved in the church•s scriptures. Lacer readers should interpret PauJ>s letter according ly. concluded Augustine, as a straightfo rward and reliable report of an actual event.l These letters to jerome abo ut Galatians, dating as they d o from 394-395 (Letter 28) and c. 397 (u~ter 40), suggestively frame this in tense period of amazing creativit}' in Augustine's life. To Simplidanu.s, Christian TeacbiiJg, and Confessions, each in its own way, had asked the question how the timeless God \vorks through time to effect the .salvation o f his creatures. Jn Simpliciamts, Augustine had looked at an individual life-Paul's-against che biblical backd ro p o f election thac arced from Genesis ro rhe NewTestamenr{and which continued, much more obscurely, inro the confusions of the present day). In 0JJ'istia·n Teaching, he had considered rhe \\'ays chat the Bible-irs textsJ its \vords, its story-referred the reader co God 's timeless rrurh despire the provisio nal qualities of irs own witness: var ious languages, variable manuscripts1 multiple translations> the basic puzzle of how \vords work. And in the Co11{essions, Augustine explored man's exile in time, the conseq uence of Adam's sin, and the wa)•'S that mind, love 1 and will seek God within the punitiveJ d isorien ting d istension of this life, a co ndition that Augustine d ramatically described by narrating his own life story. Bur Confo§ions also held ouc the consolation of divine mercy. explo ring the myriad ways in which God's grace~ incarnate in historythrough the Bible, through the ch urch, and most especially through the Son-works co dose this gap berween his creature and himself, until time would be dissolved in eternity. These great themesJ when looked at within the contexr provided by Letters28 and 40. converge o n a particular point: rhe role o f the Law in che history of salvation. Why had God given it? What did it have to do with redemption in Chrisc? Why should the Law scill be part o f Christian scripture ar all? Indeed, what did the whole prehistory of Is·

2-JO • AUGUSTI~t: ;\NO THl! Jl!WS

rael have to do with t he ch urch, whether in the generation of the church•s founding o r now> in the years of its triumph? Thus when Faustus• Capitstla came into his hands-nine of its t hirty-three books aimed against the very idea of incarnation; fourtee n of its thirty-three books specifically attacki ng che O ld Tesramenr, che people of Israel, and contemporary Jewish p ranice-Augustine, for his own reasons no less that fo r the sake o f his unnerved b rethren, was challenged to respond. Faustus himself, in addition> posed a very particular challenge. The threat lay not in his mastery o f the specificall)• Manichaean critique o f catholic doctrine and scripture: Augustine, as a member of that same com municy for over a d ecade himself, knew those argu· mencs inside ou t. On dangerous display throughout the Capitula, however~ was Faustus' equal mastery of rhe various interlocking themes and argu ments well known to Norrh African catholics, especially through p reaching: the polemics advi!Ysus ludaeos of t heir own t radition. Than ks to Faustus' ingenuicy, t hese familiar, biblically based critiques ricocheted off of their o riginal rhetorical targets back onto the church t hat had lau nched them. lc was Faustus' deft appropriation of this catholic critique of Judaism that made him so dangerous. And it was Augustine's defensive confrontation with Faustus and 1 via Faustus> with t raditional catholic anti-j udaism, that combined wich the new directions in his own thoughr to p ropel the vigorous originality of his lengthy riposce, Ag.•imt Faustus.

••• n ·rotooY SERVED :\UGUSTINE as his weapon of choice against Faustus. As strategies go, t his one 1nay hardly seem very original. Af ter all1 as soon as we have evidence of t he Christian movement-chat is to say, with Paul's letters-we also have examples of t his mode of reading. By constructing rheological correspondences between figures and events in chejewish Bible and in the life ofChrisc and of his chu rch, Paul had rransformed the episode of the Golden Calf into a warning abou t the peri ls of idolatry issued to his own commu nity o f Corint hian Genriles. So too, about a century later, Melito had decoded the Exodus story as a typological p ro phecy of Christ's passion. And justin Martyr, around

The R!!dempti
the year l)O C. E., had rendered the entire Septuagint into a vast collection of coordinated images that precisely foretold through their biblical avatars the evcnts1 beliefs, and doctrines of j ustin's own community. To the degree that it was "prophetic.'' such a strategy of reading was inn·insicaUy "histor ical.,; that is, it articulated a revelation that was d isclosed in time. Prophetic typology created a mesh of interpretive connections between the biblicaJ past and the Christian present and/ or future whereby the later, Christian damm became the point of reference for u nderstanding the deeper meaning or spiritual significance of the earlier, O ld Testament exemplum (figswa) or type (wpos). As such, typological readings of scri ptu re had long served a.s reliable ammunition in the arsenal of arguments contra Judae.os. In that polemical context~ "Jews" often coded the sorts of misunderstandings and rnisinterprecations risked by a reader who did not share the same point of reference as the author. Augustine himself, against Faustus 1 effortlessly conjured such prophetic correspondences in defense of the double canon of catholic scripture. 0Jristus igit:llr sollant haec omnia, he asserts: "The Bible everywhere speaks of Christ" (Agai11st Faustus 22.94). Thus, as Noah saved his family by wate.r and wood, and so d id Christ save humanity th rough baptism and crucifixion (l2.14). T he variety of animals saved in the ark resonates with the variety of nations saved in the church (12.15). The waters came seven days after Noah boarded the ark; Christians hope fo r salvation in the cosmic "seventh day.'' the Sabbath rest of the saints. Abraham left his countty and kindred; so Chris< left his as his n1essage wen t o ut to the Gentiles. [saac carried the wood for his sacrifice, Christ for his. Christ recalls the angel at jabbok, the stone under jacob's head; rhe evangelists, the angels ascend ing and descending the ladder (<2.26). The correspondences go on and on {and on, especiall)' in books twelve and thirteen, on Old Testament pro phecy). But by this point in time and for his own reasons> Augustine had been struggling for years to understand the Bible ad littemm and q•am littera sonat and proprie) and thus we see him asserting here against Faustus regarding both testaments what he had asserted against jerome regarding Galatians. [ts symbolic richness notwithstanding,

l..Jl ·

;\U
insists Augustine, scripture also and always reliably «reports things char were done" (facta nan-utt~r; Agaimt Faustus. 12.7; see p. 187 above:}. History for Augustine is a theological category, not a secu lar o ne. Au gustine "d oes h istor)"' by interpreting b iblical texts according to the doctr ines of h is chu rch, not by doing research. \X'hat makes his biblical theology "hiscorical" in his own view is h is emphasis on taking the "past'' conveyed in the biblical story as the in terpretive fra mework for rh e meanings thar he offers. Reading scripture ad litteram ro Augusti ne meant that he incerpreted rhe Bible's figu ra rively meaningful rexrs "with reference ro rhe past,... as well as to the (Christian) fut u re. The Bible for Augustine, in other words, was nor only a peculiar physical incarnation o f th e word of God. Nor was it solely an infinite treasury o f Jewish types and figures whose deepest mean ings Ia}' off in the Chr istian fut ure. The Bible a lso conrained meanings a bo u t events and ideas whose interpred ve poinr of reference lay within the time frame of its own narrative. thus at a point in the past. ln t he analyti cal language of Cbt'istian Teacbillg, rhe meanings of biblical sig>Ja 11 ( sign s"), while frequently tramlata. ("figurative'' or "referring away"), were also propria ("literal'' o r " referring back/' that is, to rh e story's own narratjve framing~ Cbristhm Teacbing 1.l0.15). The Bible offered accounts o f gesta, rh ings that happened in the way that the text itself relates (Augustin e asserted cotJhll Jero me) at thar particular moment in rhe hisrory o f salvarion. T hus, if rhe O ld Tesrament depicred God as giving the Law to lsrael an d as praising Jsrael for keeping the Law) a n understanding of these texts littera so1J.1t ("as the \vords say") will assert rhat t he rexr ''means1' wh ar it says. Augustine's ad littemm reading of the Old Tesra menr-as also of ch e New Testament-provided h im with texrs that praised t he Law, rhat rejoiced in the giving of the Law. and rhat pronounced the Law and its observan ces good. Many elements o f traditional Christian reaching, borh o rrhodox and hererodox, accordingly had ro shifr within this mode of read ing. The old an tagonistic cont rast berween Law a nd gospel, fo r example, was undermined. Law and gospel are neirher o pposites nor alternarives. Whether publicly o r priva tely, globally or individually, Law and gospel stand rogerh er as two h istorically specific modes of a single d ivine in itiative: of reden1ption. This conviction,

Th~

Rtdt·mptiot'l of the F!t'$IJ · 2.'tJ

attained in part t hrough h is study of Tyconius, u ndergirded Augustine's fou r stages of salvatio n histo ry: ante legem (befo re the Law), mb lege (under the Law), sub gmtia (under g race), and ill pace (eschatological peace; p. 163 above). God had given the Law to Israel to lead to fai th. Providential, not p unitive. the Law was a benefit and a p rivilege (Against Ftmstus 12.3). Wh ile many of its p recepts, "app ropriate rather than good in t hemselves" were d ue to rhe proverbially stony Jewish heart (18.4}, rhe Law itself end ures forever>because it refe rs in irs entirety, whether directly o r indirectly, to Christ (124 and 12-.7) an d frequently). This scriptural Christ-"nor t he C hrist p roduced by the Manichees, but rhe Christ of the Hebrew pro phets"-had removed the veil obscuring t he ultimate meaning of t he Law. Th rough h is incamation a nd crucifixion and bodily resurrection. Christ had revealed t hat t he Law, which had fo retold all rhese events, referred to himself. In rhis way, the Law was t he gospel. "The same Law that was given to Moses became grace and rruth in Jesus Chr isr" (Agaillst Famtm 22.6, recalling the Gospel of jo hn 1:1 7). Accord ingly. "the Apostle h imself . .. when prajsing and commending Israel's privileges, specifically mentions t he giving of the Law. If the Law had been bad, the Aposde would nor have praised the jews fo r ha\•ing it" (Agaimt Faustus 12.3; a reference ro Romans 9:4). Augustine's C hristological in terpretation of t he Law, t hus fa r, n1ight seem interesting but not particularly innovative: AfteraiiJ ustin Martyr, tirelessly decoding the Septuagint fo r Trypho, had also asserted that the problem with rhe Law was the jews' in terpretatio ns o f it, and not rhe Law itself (seep. 70 a bove). Bu t when conjoined with his commit menr ro reading rhe O ld Testament ad litwram and proprie as also mean ingful within its own frame of reference, Augustine's typology becomes radically innovative. This o rientatio n enabled him to assen not o nly that th e Law itself ·was good, but also, and much more boldly, that the jewiYJ u11dmtanding of the Law as enacted by /smel and as described in tbe Bible was (Jlso good. Ancient jewish behavior, asserted Augustine, with aU its p u rification rituals and blood offerings and food resrricrions a nd pilgrimage holidays and codes ofconducr fo r t he Sabbath, was also p raiseworthy. Scripture commends Israel for their

24..J ·

AUGUSTI~t:

;\NO TH l! J P.WS

loyalty to the Law. A plain understanding of the rext leads to the conclusion that trad itio nal Jewish practice truly conformed co d ivine intention. This simple assertion was revolutio nary. It stood centuries of o·aditional anti-Jewish polemic, both o rthodox and heterodox 1 o n its head. The Jews' "literal-mindedness" in observing the Law had long provided Christian critics with absolute proof of Israel's turpitude: As their own worst enemy (so went the argument)> the Je\\'S through their insistent loyalty to fleshly ancestral practices ind icted themselves. In· stead of understanding the Law <•spiritually/' Jews had understood "carnally" and thus remained enmeshed in the Aeshly "works o f the Law." Their rules about food were small -m inded and arbitrary; their sacrificial protocols mi micked those o f idol worship. ro which Jews were in any case strongly inclined. Circumcision was at o nce repulsive and laughable; Sabbath behavior d eeply antisocial. O f all the bad and offensive things aboutJudaism1 pronounced the tJdverms Istd-tteos tradition, fleshly Jewish practice was rhe very worst o f all. Augustine argued exactly the opposite. "The Jews were right to keep aJI these rhings''- immersions and seasons and nwst especially (and radically), he asserts, blood sacrifices and Aeshly circumcision. The Je\VS had not erred in their mode of observing rhe Law and enacting irs mandates "in a fles hly way,'' secundum caruem, rather than se· nmdum spiritu.m, "accord ing to the spirit.'' O n che contrary, they had done just what God had commanded them co do (Against Faust"s 12.9, and frequently). Despi te the plenitude o f spirit ual meanings available in scripture (and Augustine could effordessly conjure Christological references from any Old Testament rext), God, he maintained, did not speak only in allegories when he gave Israel his Law. In the time before Christ came, the Law also prescribed behavior. Laws about permissible and forbidden foods, whatever their symbolic aspect, also instructed the people abo ut what they should and should not ear. Laws about the Sabbath, whatever rhey contained propherically, really d id prescribe and prohibit certain activities when rhey were given. God, in brief, had charged Jsrael with more than preserving the d ivine word of the Law in the text of his book. He had charged them as well with enacting the commands oftbat same LAw in tJJe Jlesb) tvitbin bisto,.ical time. And precisely

Tht• Redemption of tb~ Fle sh ·

24.5

because rhese ancient Jews performed the Law seamdmn cam em-> ''the lives of these men as well as rheir words were pro phetic" (Agaimt Fau.s· ttlS 4.2). No less than did Jewish scripture, then, Jewish rices and Jewish behavior- God's word interpreted proprie-also served as signa tram/ata, signifyi ng d ivine truths. A special group within Jsrael- patriarchsJ prophets1 holy women and men- enlightened by divine revelation, had understood the ultimate Ch ristological significance of the Law. T heir people by and large did not possess this divine knowledge. Yet through their enacrmenr o f these mandaced observances, botb g roups ofje\I'S had foretold Christ. The heroes o f Israel, "not o nly in their speech, bur also in their lives," were prophets~ and by enacting the word of God, so too the entire jewish nation was ''one great prophet" (Agaimt Faustus l}t)}. "Through those men whose hearts were enlightened by the wisd om o f God}we may seek out the prophecy of the coming of Christ and his church 110t o11ly ill wbat tbe)• said lmt also ill what they did; and che same is true o f the body of the who le people. All this accords with what the Apostle said, that ' these things were done as examples (figurae) for us' " (1 Corinthians 10:6; Against Famllt.<22.24). For Augustine, then, the semiotics of prophecy encompasses deeds as well as words. ''for material symbolic acts (corporalia sacra· me11ta) are nothing o ther than visible speech (verba 11isibi/M)." This likening of physical actions ro language in turn provides Augustine with a way to explain why and how the d ivine truth signified through s.aC'ramenta can remain the same, even though the sacraments themselves, those ri tual acts co mmunicating chis truth, clearl)' changed. (The church celebrates rhe euchar isc, for example; it does nor .sacrifice animals.) Ever since the Fall, Augustine had lo ng held, language and indeed all h uman co mmw1ication had been intrinsically time bo und> its meanings necessarily and ambiguously mediated by signs. Syllables and words, to be sounded, had to unwind in time; their coherence and significance were the acco mplishment of memory. Language is intrinsically narrarive; interpretation- th us meaning-is in tr insically retrospective. Augustine had worked out these diffic ult concepts about language and time, reference and meaning, especially in Christian Teaching and in

246 • AUGUSTINE AND THS JEWS

rhe final fo ur books of rh e Confossiom.. Bu t now, against Faustus, he easily evoked them to explain how the Bible is t he temporal embodiment of eternal truth, a nd rhus how ancienr jewish rites and current Ch ristian rites both indicate the same ch angeless truth>even though rh eir ou t\vard forms> ti me bound and transient, diverge. He focuses o n a particular pare of speech to make h is point. Verbs) he notes, in the effort to relate modes of action and being> com municate the idea of rime•s Aow through d istinctions of rense. Wirh spoken language> the form of rhe ve1·b changes in rerms of Jeerers and syllables according co irs tense: "'done" indicates pasr acrion, .. co be done" ind ica res furure action. \'\i'hy rhen, likewise, should those symbols which declare rhe deat h and resltl'recdon of Christ nor differ fro m chose older S)'mbols which only predicted t hese t hings? We perceive a difference in rh e sound and rhe fol'ln of words if rhey indicate past or fu rure: {•has suffered"' and •(about ro suffer>·• ''has risen" and "abour ro rise." So roo wlrh mareriaJ S)'mbolk aces~ a form of visible speech which , rhough sacred) is also changeable and rransirory. For while God is erernal>rhe water ofbaptism-in facr, eve1·y corpo1·eal aspecr of tire-is transitory. And t he very \VOI'd ''God,» which muse be pronounced m rhe consecration, is only a sound which passes away in a momenr. The actions and so~tnds pass aw<'Y

communicate is eternal.

Some of the behavio rs that God demanded o f Israel-Sabbath rest, avoidance of certain foods- might oblige Augustine's reinterpreta tion, serving as a kind of enacted allegoq,of Christian truth. But the adversus Iudaeos traditions, both orthodox a nd heterodox, had parricu larly rebuked jews o n accoun t o f blood sacrifices. How> in an)' circum· sta nce, could a ri te so blatantly pagan, so obviously bound u p with the worship of images, so int rinsically fleshly) have ever been a ppropriate to che worship o f the crue god? These sacrificial protoco ls, rnany Chr istians held~ were worse than merely "pagan'': They were actually demonic. One esteemed sou rce of this view was, o nce again, t he mid -seco nd-cent ury rheologian j ustin 4

Tlu RtdtmptitnJ of the Flesl> · 247

Martyr. Modi~•ing a tradition d rawn o riginally from rhe Hellenistic syn agogue, Justin had identified t he gods o f the nations (daimones in rhe language of Psalm 95'5 LXX) wirh rh e demonic p rogeny sprung fro m an act o f primeval divine-hu man m iscegenation, when fallen angels, "the sons of God/' had intercourse with "the daughters of men" (Genesis 6:1-4). Their demonic offspring, justin said, seduced o r per· suaded pagan nations ro worship them or their images wirh b lood o fferings. Once Israel also fell inro idolatry, worshiping the Golden Calf, God instituted a mass of inn·icate rules of sacrifice governing h is own worship. He did so for the "ungrateful and unrighteous n arion,'• explained Justin, "as an acco mmoda tion, e njo in ing them to offer sacrifices as if ro his name, so that you would not serve idols.'• But even chis prophylactic disrracrion did not work: As the prophets later complained, Israel continued to worship demons and even sometimes to sacrifice their own children to them. These same prophets therefore reminded rhe u nruly people that God h imself had no use fo r sacrificesin fact, he despised them (Dialogtw with Tiypho 19 a nd 22, citing Amos pS ff. and jeremiah 7:21 fr). Faustus simp!)' echoed j ustin (probabl)' via Terru llian) when he dismissed j e\\1sh laws of sacrifice as "pure paganism." Bur he extended the target ofJustin's polemic by characterizing the blood-loving Jewish deity as "a demon, fo r he is not God" (Agaimt Fattstus 16.1; 18.2).1 Augustine•s commitment to ad litterJ on irs head. His argument with Jerome o n Galatians had sharpened his commitment to the p rinciple t hat bib lical texts did not d issemble, nor would they ever portray d ivine dissembling: God did not act: ' as if'~ when g ivin g h is Law. Against 1

Faustus, he made rhe same point, referring to that biblical passage wherein j esus h imself o rdered the leper whom he had just healed to submit to a priest and "give rh e offering, as Moses commanded" (Matthew 8:4). Bu t why would God- who th rough the prophets re· peatedly disavo\ved any need for offerings- nonetheless stiU require them? T he only reason God could have had, Augustine concludes> was pedagogical: God had wanted "to teach us something that would be good for us to know, which was suitably symbolized by these of· fe rings" (Against FamttiS G.s). If God chose sacrifices as his instrum ent o f instruction, th en any

248 • ,\!!GUSTI NE A~U THE Jl!WS

resemblance between Jewish offerings and pagan ones must be strictly superficial. The two cultic p rorocols o nly looked sirnilar, Augustine explainedJ and this \\'aS not because the jews had imi tated pagans but rather because pagans, prompted by t he offspring of fallen angels, had imitated t he jews. These demonic beings "whose chief sins a re pride and false ness" fore knew that God would insritute such worship in Jsrael for himself. Maliciously, they p rompted their gentile followers to worship images with sacrilega imitamenta ("impious imita tions'') of crue worship. Therefore, Augustine concludes, rather than indexing a blood sacrifices in fact attest to a deJewish tendencv , toward idolatn•, ' monic imitation of the d ivine, which these: fallen creatures rhen foisted o n benighted Gentiles (Agai11st Faustus 20.18). "Thus t he nature of sacrifice as d ue solely to God appears not o nly when t he true God righteously claims ir, but even when a false god arrogan tly demands it" (22.17). ln fu rther support of his argument, Augustine reasons "his· to rically." Poin ting to Gen esis 4:4, he observes that blood sacrifice had been designated proper and pleasing worship as early as humanity's second generation, when God had accepted Abel's offering of firsdbo rn sheep. In other words, urges Augustine, pagan practices, when seen from t he right vantage, actually confirm the co rrectness of lsraefs blood offerings. What then of the infamous episode of the Golden Calf, the prime biblical example in adver.>us Iudaeos traditions o f Jsrael's in tr insic relig ious instability a nd of their a bid ing attraction to idols? Augustine carefully reviews rhe story. \Vith t-.·foses m issing on the mountain, the people fo rced Aaron to make t he Calf, which they worshiped with sac· rilices. O nce Moses retur ned>he bur ned the Calf utterly, g ro u nd what remained into powder, sca ttered t hat powder on the wa ter. and rh en made the people d rink (Exodus }l:t-10). Audaciously, Augustine recasts these evem s by rraining h is attention on a seemingly incidenral narrative deraiL lt made sense, he said, for Moses to d estroy the Golden Calf, "but why should he have made them drink ir?" The seeming anomaly o f Moses' action fuels Augustine's conviction that the text itself beckons him co a rich er level of meaning. "Who can help bur feel exci ted at the prospect of under· stan ding what this action pro phetically signified?" Tacking verrigi·

Tht nt>dtmpzion of tht• FlrsiJ · 249

nously between Exodus> scattered New Testaments verses, and Psalms) Augustine triu mphantly produces his answer. The Calf, understood pro phetica lly> he says, represents gentile pagan commun ities (a nod here co the '"likenesses of four-footed beasts" t hat Paul mentions when excoriating pagan society; Romans t:2j). That is the co mmunity scorched by the Lord Christ ("I am come ro set fi re to the earth"; Luke 12:49). When the Gentiles thus have t heir ido lat!/' bum ed out o f t hem (losing t he "form" of the Calf ) and are hu mbled ("ground," in the language of the Exodus srory), t hey a re then "sprin kled in the water" and

imbibed b)' Israel, t hat is, /ry thr pre•chers ofthe gospel. In this way, through baptism, rhese fot·met· pagans are ad mined in ro rhe.s.e Israelites) bodies) char is) inro the body of Christ, which is rhe church . . . . So chis calf [repl'esenring idolat rous sodecy]) b}' rhe 6re of zeaJ, rhe keen penerradon of rhe word, and rhe warer of baptism, t•arher than swallowing rhe people rtsrael), was instead by rh em swal1owed.

Augustine d oes not contest the h istoridcy of this incident: The jews in the desert reaJiy d id worship the Calf, some o f them really \vere slaughtered in punishment, and Moses really did rebuke the whole people (A:§1imt Famttts 22.79). But t he prophetic sign ificance of t he Bible's report o f chis incident, he insists, lies less with Israel's co ndemnation because of ido l worship and more with rhe gentiJe natio ns• redemption, thro ugh Israel {from whom sprang t he fi rst gene rad on o f aposdes), from idol worship. And tba; concludes Augusrine, should stop che mouchs o f the heretics and the blasphemers! Srill-even g ra nting fo r t he mo menr that God might h ave commanded sacrifices in a first-o rder way. because fo r pedagogical reasons he really did want t his sort of worship1 and even granting for the moment that Israel had p leased God in a firs t·order way \vhen worshiping h im rhrough sacrifices-the q uestion remains: \X1J_,, blood sacrifices in particular ? Jndeed, why b lood sacri fices a t a ll? On this specific question1 the argumenrative advantage o f Augustine's Chriscological typology beco mes clear. Only blood sacrifices

150 • .\UGUSTII'li ANO Ti l E J EWS

would serve, he says, because only b lood sacrifices correspond typologically co the true sacri fice of rrue flesh and rrue blood that they represent and prophesy: the passio n of the incarnate Son. Augusrine sounds this t heme repeatedly t hroughout h is lengthy rebuttal of Faust us' critique. All of the Old Testament, bu t pa rticularly the laws regru·ding offerings, he assercs, a re typologicaJ references to Christ's redemptive death. "These [Jewish] sacrifices ')'pified what we now rejoice in>for we can be pur ified o nly by bloodt and we can be reconciled with God only by blood. The fu lfill ment of these types is in Ch rist, rhrough whose b lood we are bo th purified and redeemed .. . _Whatever kind of sacrifice you name, I will show you char it pro phesies Chrisr'' (Agf1inst FflUStus t8.6). "Jn rhe sacrifices, we recognize the mysreries of revelationJ b)' which things p rophesied were fo reshadowed. These rhings \Vere o ur examplest and in many different ways they aU pointed ahead to the one rrue sacrifice, 'vhich we rh rough our r ites now commemorate. Now t hat this sacri fice has been revealed and has been offered .. . sacrifice is no longer b inding as an act o f worship, rhough it retains its symbolic a uthori ty" (Against Fat~stu.s Gj). "God, using certain types, p refigured the true sacrifice"' (Agflinst 1-tuutus 22.21). The Jews, chen, had never been at F.tult when making b lood offerings co God: He had co mmanded a nd they had obeyed , thus perfectly prophesying t he Son's coming in th e flesh a nd his dying in the flesh (12.9; 4.6, and frequently). T hrough this defense of b lood sacrifice, Auguscine defends, against Fausrus, rh e incarnation of Ch risc. Bur thereverse is no less true: Defending the incarnation, Augustine also d efends Jewish blood sacrifices. What then of t hat salvation uniquely wrought by Christ's coming in t he flesh: his redemption of the fles h, proleptically accomplished and h istorically instan tiated by h is own fleshly resu rrection? Here Au· guscine) improba bly. seizes upon that mosr reviled and rid iculed of jewish religious observances, male circumcision. Pagan cult ure h ad lo ng derided Jewish circu mcision as bizarre and repulsive. Imperial law restr icted its p ractice explicitly to Jews; Roman comedy mocked it with rhe joke-name "Apella." (The Latin a-pella corresponded to sine pelle, "withou t [forejs kin," thus, a Jew.) In h is Di,1logue with Ti)1pho, j ustin Marryr put these negative associations to more

Tbe Rt dt>mption of the Fltsb · 251

polemical use: Circun1cision was God's way, said Justin, o f singling Jews our for rhe special punish ments rhac they so V.'ell deserved in light of their role in the death of Christ. " Fleshly circumcision," j ustin explains to Trypho> "was given for a sign, to separare you from other natio ns and from us [gentile Ch risrians ]>and so rhat you would suftfr what you now sufter.'' (Jusrin evidently ind icares rhose measures taken

by Rome after the Bar Kokhba Revolt of IJl- 135 c.E., when he sets his dialogue.) "Your land is desolate, your cities b urned, strangers eat your fruit, and none of you can go up to jerusalem. You are marked off from other 1nen by your circumcision alone." In lig hr of the Jews' consistently dismal record- after all, they have killed Chris~ murdered the prophers before him1 and rejecred not only Ch risrians and Ch ristianity, but also God himself-such punish ment, j ustin o bserved, is full)' justified (Try•pbo 16). But even in and ofitself,Justin fu rcher argued, physical circumcisio n made lie-de sense as a "sign of righteousness."' (The phrase comes fron1 Paul, Romans 4::1 1.) After all, none of the generations between Adam and Abraham had been circumcised, though just men lived d uring that period (Dia/og«e t11itb Try•pbo 19); and women, incapable of circumcision, are nonetheless capable of being r ighteous (23). Therefo re> j ustin concludes, the "circumcision" that registers as a "sign of righteousness" is not physical bur spi rirua~ the circumcision of the heart (18, and frequently). God had never intended that the Jews should "literally" pracrice flesh I)' circumcision, and their d o ing so simply attested to their endu ring inability to think and to act kata pneMJM, ('in a spiritual way."' Jndeed, the Jews' insistent Aeshly enactment of God's spiritual command simply revealed Judaism for what it \Vas: the unintelligent anti-type of Christianity. Faustus roo had little good ro say about circumcision~ b ut unlike j ustin, he used what he viewed as irs intrinsic offensiveness to mock the jews' god as well as the Jews' ri tes-and>by extension, ro ridicule the religious ideas of catholics also. Circumcision is an "obscene distinction•• (Against Faststus 19.4), a ''disgusting mark" given by the Jewish god co the jews, evidently for purposes of muntal recognition (25.1). This way, Faustus speculatesJ \vhen in the company of other gods) the jews' god can know when he is being add ressed: He hears his sum-

151 • AIJClUSTISt! AND THE JEWS

mons as "the god of Abraham , and Isaac, and jacob." This invocation of the fi rst three generations of circumcised Israel idencifies rhe fin ire god of their particular rribe. Moving beyond these broadsides, Faustus next rehearses many of rhe sam e points rhat justin had made: Cir cumcision is antisocial, marking Jews off from all other people; and it is nonsensical, since the Jews' own books relate t he lives of me n in the generations before Abraham who were also r ighteous. No matter, concludes Faustus. The main po in t is that catholic Christia ns are not cir cumcised. Therefore, t hey have no right to call upon the god o f the circu mcised who had commanded circumcision (Against Faustus 2j.t) . Cleverly~ Faustus united the general cultu raJ ave rsion to actual cir cumcision a nd the catholic traditions deridingJewish circumcision to form t h e t hin edge of his polemical wedge. With t hese combined arguments he d rove a d ivide between cat holics a nd t heir O ld Testament a nd between jesus and his "native" Jewish e nvironment as p resented in the gospels. "I reject circumcision as disgusting,'' he forth rightly ac knowledges, "and if I am nor mistaken, so do you.'' His o bservation a bout th eir mut ual revulsion tmvard circumcision leads inro a ll'lllch 4

4

4

4

lo nger list of t he n1any jewish p ractices t hat ~·tanichees and catho lics alike abhor in princip le and ignore in practice. By these means he cornes to his main point: ln retaining these Jewish books as part of their own canon, catholics are guilty o f rank hypocrisy (Agai>JSt Fauststs 6.1; also 16.2-8). Further) by keeping rhe Jews' books, Faustus repeatedly asserts, catholics betray Ch rist, who himself aJways srrove against judaism. Christ came to "desrroy" circumcision, as well as Sabbath, sacrifices, and all t he other works of the law (Against Fanstus 17.1-2). "Your Christian ity) like mine, is based o n the belief rhat C hrist came to destroy the Law a nd t he prophets/' he clajms, noting that Christ himself never observed the Sabbat h a nd never taught t hat it should be observed (18.2). And, o f course, Christ reviled circu mcisio n: \'Vhy else would he have said that t he proselyte who received ci rcumcision becarne a child of hell twice over {Agaimt Faust;<.< 16.6; Mat thew 2p5)? In sum, the religion of Moses differed u tterly from the religio n of Christ; and rhe Jews, strongly attached to ?\·loses, rejected Christ because Christ rejected Moses {Against Faustus 16.6). What then of Christ's statement t hat he

came not to destroy the Law, but to fulfill ic (Macthew 5"7)? Eicher the saying itself is spurious, answered Faustus (Ag(1imt Fasuttts 18.3), or else Jesus made it under duress, ro paci~· the Jews who raged against him exacdy "because he t rampled upo n their ancient instit utions... . For everyone knows that the jews \vere always ready to attack Christ" (19.2). The true followe rs of Christ) in brief, are ch ose who most completely rejecc the Judaism char Christ h imself rejected. These n·ue followers>o bviously, were not t he catholics, but the Manichees. As he had done with other jewish p ractices, so also Augustine does with the circumcision of the flesh: Dismantling t he t-.·1 anichaean critique, he affirms the excellence o f circumcision semndum canu!m not o nly against Faustus bur also agai nst the traditions of his own chu rch. And, again, he does so by interpreting (an d rhus radicall)' rehabilicacing) t he h iscorical }e\\ish ""'"mentum as a typological prophecy of Ch rist. Precisely by virtue of its ver)' fleshliness, insists Augustine. and indeed by virtue of irs precise location in the male sexual o rgan, carnal circumcision symbolized rhe central redemptive miracle o f Christianity itself: the t ransformad o n of the redeemed at the resurrection of the dead. Physical circu mcision prophesies t he ''putting off .. of that mortal narure t hat is conveyed from generario n to gem•rario n h;· generation. Christ achieved this putting off of h umanity's mortal nature by "pu rring ofP• his own genuine morcaliry chrough che resurreccion of his 0\111 fles h. Do t he Manichees balk a c chis idea? asks Auguscine. (No doubt, some of h is fellow catholics d id as well.) Thac was cheir problem.

To God, all things are pure. It ts mere prurtem absurdity, then, to find fault wirh God's purdng on the organ of human gene radon rhe sign of human regeneracioo . . . . Ifyou ask, as you ofren do, whether God could nor come up with some other \1/3.)1 of sealing the righteousness offairh, we t•espond: \'<'hy nor this way? If all things are pure to the pure, by how rnuch more are aU thll)gs pu re co God? . . . Try nor ro blush, chent when someone asks whether your god had nothing berrer ro do chan co encangle pan of his nature wirh d1ese sexual organs char you revile so rnuch. The subject is delicate, on accounr of rhar penal corrupdon rhar now

154 • AUOUSTISl! AND THE JEWS

acrends human procreation. These things involve rhe modescy of rhe chaste1 the passions ofrhe impure-1 and t he jusdce of God. A(i..U.VST FAUS'I'VS 6.J

Continuing in this line, Augustine observes that Chr ist rose o n the day after the Sabbath 1 which is to say, o n a Sunday. Since t he Sabbath is the seventh day o f the week, that fi rst Easter Sunday \Vas in effect the eighth day of the week of the Passion. For ch is reason. too, the Old Testament's co mmand to circumcise on the eighth da)' rypologically prophesied borh Chrisc's resurrection and also that redemprive miracle that his own resurrection represented an d made possible, '' the e rad ication of that mortality which comes from o ur carnal generation/' the sign and t he punishment o f Adam's fall. Christ's resurrection looks ah ead to the general resurrection o n the ••sabbath without e nd," when rhe body of the saim will rise. This risen bod)' will be changed, nor subsramially (it will still be fles h), bu t morally, "so thar it is no longer corruptible and morral " Q uoting Paul in t Corin thians 15, Augustine concludes, "To put on immortality, the body puts off mortality. This is the mystery of circu mcision, which acco rd ing to the Law rook place on rhe eighth day; and on rhe eig hth day, rhe Lord 's d ay, irs rrue mean ing was fulfilled by rhe Lo rd" (Against Fa11sttu 16.29; so too 19.9). Had th e jews u nderstood God's command to circumcise senmdum spirittmJ without performing it sewndum rarnem (as the framers o f t he classical adtlfi"StH Jud.aeos traditio n would have wished), neither they nor the Law that they \vere privileged to carry would have prefigured the fundamenral "I)'Sterium o f Chrisrianity irself: che redemprion of t he flesh through Christ's coming in rhe Aesh, dying in the flesh, and being raised in rhe flesh. Israel's performing circumci· sion in the fles h semtJdttm carnem- and indeed, their performance of all of the command ments secsmdtun CtW1ltml- had been, p recisely, the poinr of God's giving rhem h is Law. This praise of Israel fo r their fles hly obed ience moves Augustine to a striking revisio n of his own earlier views o n jesus' attitude toward and actions regarding th e Law. Jn h is early commemary on Galatians, Augustine had argued that Christ had alienaced rhe Jews because he did nor fulfill some of rhe Law's commands ad litteram. (The term can

be read both ro rnean "to the letter.., as in ''very scrupulously/• and it can also mean something like ''actually"~ On Galatians 22 .r.) An d as recently as his work in Christian Teaching, Augustine had sounded much like Faust us: jesus had a lienated his jewish contemporaries, he wrote there, by h is flagran t disrespect fo r Jewish law. \Vhen jesus came, he "d isregarded these signs .. . and refused to follow t hese practices as t he jews observed them'' (Cht·istian Teaching }6,10}. Now, a scan t three years o r so later, Augustine sees his "historical jesus" quite differendy. "Ch risr never tried to t urn Israel away fro m rh eir god," he insists, "but rather, he charged them with being t ur ned away. . . . He not only never b ro ke one o f God 's commands himself, but he found fa u lt with those a round h im who d id, . .. [forJ it was God himself who gave these com· mandments through Moses'' (Agaimt Faustus t6.24). So vigilanr was Christ in keeping the Law's commands as rbe jews t>~di/Wnall)• bad"". dentood and enacted them thar he remained in the romb1 h is body "resting from all irs works." d uring the Sabbath. For this. reason he rose again only "on the e ig hth d ay," once the Sabbath had passed (16.29). As for condemning the proselyte of the Pharisees as a '' two-fold child of hell" (Matthew 2} 15), explains Augustine, Ch rist spo ke not against circumcision, an d certain l)' not against conversion to J udaism, b ut rarher agai nsr rh e p roselyte's imitating h is teachers rhe Pharisees, who themselves were unfaic h ful co che Law (Ag.
156 •

AU OUSTI Nl! AND T I-t I! J EWS

Earlier t heologians had of course also nored that the gospels portra)'
source for Jerome's interpretation o f che apostles' conflict in Galatians 1 2 as a "useful lie. ' That fig he occurred too long after jesus' resurrection for O rigen to reasonably hold t hat Peter was still loyal to the Law.) One of the prime accomplishn1encs o f j esus' missio n, Origin further opined , was "to introduce co man kind a d oco·ine which did away with the customs of th e j ews while reverencing t heir prophets'' (A~imt CeJsus 1.29). Augustine's argu ment was both broader and much more original than O rigen's, and it enabled h is imputing a practical Jewishness to the ancient church u tterly withou t ambivalence. To che position that jesus and h is a posd esJ most especially Paul, had at any poin t condemned the jewish o bservances of the La\1,:-a view shared by most strains o f gentile Christianiries on ch e slid ing scale o f "o rthodox"' to "heterodox"'-Augustine o bjected strenuously. Not o nly had Jesus h im · sel f always remained a Law-observant j ew) he insisted , but so had the original apostles and so, always. had PauL And they remained obs.er vane well after the resurrection- in face, said Augustine, th e Law was ho nored through traditional Jewish practice for the d uration of the founding generation of the church>which is to say, fo r as lo ng as the Temple stood. Those oth er jews whom t hese a postles proselytized also contin ued to keep the Law; and some- like Timothy, who had a gentile father but a jewish mother (Acts t6:1-5)-even chose to receive cir cumcision o ut of respect fo r those other Christian Jews who still valued "the old sacraments." No reason not to do so, Augustine as serted~ and for the peace of t he chu rch, such sensitivity was actually a good thing. This fi rst j ewish-Christian generation understood that rheir beloved ordinances h ad pointed fo rward to and fou nd t heir fulfillment in Christ; and giving up such practices, after a lifeti me of hon4

4

4

The Rl•drmpti(HI of tbt F/es!J · 257

o ring them, would h ave been disorienting and difficult (Against Faustus t9.l6). So too would fo rcing o bservan ce on Gentiles have been, because they had not been brought u p in t hese c ustoms. Paul had rightly reprimanded Peter, insisted Augustine, on p recisely this point. But be)•"Ond t rad ition, he urged, a p rofound pastoral and theological reason fo r continuing co live by Jewish custom had guid ed these aposdes: It was crucially importan t that their gentile congregatio ns see that they kept the Law. These Gentiles, turning co Christ, had been instructed both t hat they had to a bando n rheir old gods and that the)' were not to assu me jewish p ractices. But keeping the Law was not at all like worshiping idols, and the reasons fo r not worshiping idols had noth ing in com mon with ch e reasons fo r Christian Gent iles' not living like jews. Therefore, concluded Augustine, this unique jewish generatio n, the fo nt of the chu rch, ceased their actio prophetias onl)' gradually, " lest by compulsory abandonment it should seem to be co ndemned (as pagan practice waiJ rather than b rought to a close" (terminata; Against Fau.stus 19.17). Furthermore, Augustine added, the gentile Christians of chis first generation actually chose co Judaize, voluntarily assu ming som e Jewish d ieta ry custo ms in o rder to accom modate the sensitivities of ]e\\ish Ch ristians "for the sake o f the Cornerstone, who makes both one in h imself " (Against FaHStus j.2.1 2~ Act.~ tf29 o n dietary disciplines; Ephesians 2:u-22 o n Ch rist's u niting Gentiles and Jews inro one "bu ilding"). Auguscine•s understanding of jesus' mvn jewish observan ce not o nly explained how j esus served as th e church's cornerstone. It also a ffected and was affected by Augustine1s underscanding of history, o f h istoricaJ narrative, and o f rh e interpreta tion o f scriptu re ad litte1~m. The past itself, he observes, no longer exists. "The past is gone, and che trurh of what is pasc lies in o u r own judgmenc, nor in the past event itself'' (Against Hmstus 26.5. This observation nea dy recapirulates his rich er discussion in book eleven of the Confessions). If V.'e must asses.s whether the report of a past event is t rue, our judgment will necessarily depend upon the authority o f the sources mediating our k nowledge. T he reason C h rist ians be lieve that Jesus was born o f a virgin and that he d ied on a crosst Augustine assens, is "because it is so writte n in the gospel." The gospel's authority reflects and is reflected by the a uthority of rhe church. While the gospel is hisrory of a special sort-

158

·AUGUST! Nil ASD THIO JEWS

unlike secular h istories. ir repo rts and reveals t he will and the actions of God -it is> nonetheless> still a text ual account of the past, t hough a d ivinely authorized o ne. Therefore~ concludes Augustine, "we believe both that Christ really was born and that he n·uly died because the Gospel is truth . . . . And we can affirm with confidence ch at what hap pened in the past (fortum) was nothing other than whar Gospel trurh reaches" (Agaimt Faustm 26.7).< Thus, as rh e gospels themselves relate, j esus was a pious Jew, as were h is parents before him; he was circumcised in the flesh on the e ig hth day, and h is parents brought an offering for him in the Tem ple according to the p ractices of their time (Against Faustus 32.18 a nd 22; Luke 2:2J- 24Al). An ad litteram reading asserts t he historicity o f these narrated events. Bu t even more fundamentally, an ad litteram read ing as a p rinciple of biblical interpretation, Augustine insists) rein fo rces sound doctr ine. Interpreting th e Bible in this way serves as a bulwark against heresy- most precisely, sa)'S Augustine, against rhe heresy of Faustus• docetic C hrist: When rhe Gospel says char jesus slept,)eslJS really did sleep (Marrhew T24)- When rhe Gospel says thar jesus was hungry, he t•eally was hungry (Marthew 4:2). When it claims thar he "as rhirsry (John 19:28) or sorrowful (Marc hew 26:37) or glad or wharever else-all of these claims are rrue jusr as rhey \vere reporced {narrata) and none of rhes.e scares was feigned. jesus acruall}' experienced all rhese emotions and condidons, undergoing chem nor our of a narural necessity, as we do, bur rarher rhrough rhe effective exercise of his will, according co his divine po\\'er. Fo1· men feel anger or sorrow or weariness O J' hunger or rhirsc involunrarily, bur Chrisr felr chern volunral'il)'. Men are born wirhour an}' ace of ch ei1· own will, and we suffer against our own will. Bur Clwist was bom by an ace of his own will, and he suffered as an acr of his own will. Nonetheless, his expenence of rhese sraces was no less real for being voluntary. And they were fairhfu11}1 and accurarely wrirten down, so rhac whoe\•er believes in Christ's gospel is nor deluded with lies, bur msrructed with rruch.

Confro nting Faustus, Augustine brilliantly integrated his defense of catholic dogma and script ure with a startlingly original and positive apologetic for ancient Jewish p ractice. Both t he generations between Abraham and Jesus and the founda tional generation of jesus and his apostles, he arguedJ witnessed to cat holic trut h p recisely by living according to t he Jewish interp retation o f jewish law. But what about Augustine's own jewish contemporaries, and current jewish p ractice? At what point had being a jew who lived like a jew turned from an asset to a liability? Did present-day Israel semndum canJem-that perd u ring community of unbelievers- have any positive relation or relevance to the community of Christ? These questions in their mid -fi rst-<:entury fo rm had h ung over Paul as he pondered the nat ure of God's promises and the election and d estiny of his "kinsmen accord ing to t he flesh." Especially in his letter co t he community at Rome, he had contemplated the ultimate destiny o f his people while working our his view of the dynamics of grace, faith, and election. Three and a half centuries later, in a social context u nknown and u nknowable to Paul, rhese quesrjons in their posr-Constantinian form hung over Augustine as, reading Romans, he defended his god, his Bible, and his view of revelation and history against Faustus. Had t he word of God failed (Romans 9:6)? Had God rejected his people (Romans u:~)? Had t hey stumbled so as to fall (Romans u :u)? Had God, after all, changed his mind about choosing Israel ro receive his gifts and his call (Ro mans u:19)?

ll • TH E MARK O F CAI N

((71Jen God said UJ CaitJJ 'V;tbat hat;e)'OU doue? Tbe voice oj)ou.r brother,s blood is CtJ•ing out to me from the earth! • ., Tluts from the sacred scripttt res does God~s voice accuse tbe ]etlls. AUGUST! NIt, .tGAI!\'ST Jt/1US T ' US 11. 10

In the co urse of his vigorous defense of catholic canon and d om·ine against Faustus, Augustine produced1 as well, a stardingly novel a pology for traditionaljewish practice. But the same historical periodization char, accord ing to his argument, commended che "fleshly'' sacrameiJta both of the ancient jews of the O ld Testament and of the

apostolic generation of the New Testament would seem necessarily to lead him ro condemn these practices in the presem. Fulfilling the commands o f the Law secundt1m ca.rnem, he claimed, had witnessed to Ch ristian truth o nly fo r chat period before their ultimate meaning was reveaJed through Christ's resurrection. Contin uing in rhe Law sectm· dum carnem had witnessed to the Law's abiding sanctity only fo r that period of the foundation o f the chu rch, when the new commu nity of Jews and Gentiles first joined together. With the church now esrab· lished, however, the Christological significance of Old Testament fig· ures revealed, and the vase majority of Ch ristians Gentile, what poim could there possibly be to Jewish practice? What fu rther positive significance could these o ld prefigurations of Christian truth still hold? Before wo rking toward Augustine•s atlS\rer ro rhese questions, it might be well to pause for a moment to recall what we are looking at and what we are looking fo r. Theological argumenc in late antiquity, when co nducted at the level that \Ve examine it here, occurred in and rh rough highl)' constructed rhetoric. The author of Ag:Unst Faustus was one of the most brilliatu ecclesiastical rheroriciatls of his period, or of

Tbt> Mark of Cai11 ·

261

a ny other. The goal of theological d ispute-as of any fo rensic contestwas to dismande and discredit the oppo nent's posicion while promo ting o ne's own, often through appeal to inherited modes o f argu mentation (see p. 22J above). \Ve will search our sources in vain, or we will misinterpret them, if we read rhem to discern how their a uthors "really felt" o r what the)' "really thought" abo ut a given topic or person or g roup of people. Those foci of moder n in terest are nor o n immediate display in ancient literatu re. Nor will we ger a n undistorted view o f what real people were accually doing by depending simply o n the rheto rical presentatio n o f certain ancient people-be rh ey jews, pagans, heretics, women~ martyrs. emperors, virgins, b ishops, monks, or sold iers- for our p ictu re. Finding ancient people in these sources, or reconstr ucting andenr people in part by appeal to these sources., takes work. I say this to put Augustine•s argument abo u t j ews in Agaim& Fan· stus in context. The position rhar he assu mes vis-a-vis h is Ma nichaean o pponent o n "'the jewish question'• ca nnot help but make h im seem (by the measure of rnodern civil society) the more attractive of the two figu res. Bu t Augustine \\'aS as capab le of bitter a nti-jewish invective as were an)' ofhis fou rth-century peers. His remarks about contemporar)' gentile Christians who Judaize. his comments ro jerome about co ntemporary Jewish practice, and his sermons on the gospels' passion narratives, as we will shortly see, leave lirtle doubt of rhat. If we regard Augustine's theological teachings a bo ut jews as evidence for what he really thought or really fel t about jewish contemporaries, we wliJ come away wirh the impression of a man riddled with deep inconsistencies, emotio nal co nflicts, unresolved anger, and so on. But his theological writings do not yield evidence to help us with such questions. \X'hat Augustine, in sermons o r in rrearises or in letters, said about jews (or of jewish cu]r, and o f jesus • or Paul's o r Peter's jewish practice, does not give us evidence abom what Augustine "reaJiy r.hought'' or "really felt" a bo ut h is actual jewish neighbors and about local late-

262 • AUOUST I Nl! AND T I-t I! J EWS

fourth -cen tury j udaism. What it does provide us with, in abundance, is evidence of h is self-confident crea tivicy when arguing againsr a theological o pponent. In h is t reatm ent o f "co ntempo ra ry je\vs" and of "contemporary j udaism'' as theological ca tegories, Augustine's creativity continues. His position on this topic once again cont rasts in surprising and positive ways with that of the o lder adversus JudM!OS t radition. Occasional strains of that older traditio n nevertheless still sound. Thus. despite th e ways that his new a rgu ment relies o n typologies that correlate fleshly sacrifices with a fleshly Christ (that is, with a Ch rist who was m1ly incarnate), Augustine can still lapse into the o ld language that d emeans Jewish offerings. "God is nor greedy fo r blood and fa t," he "tells 1' Faustus, '(but by requ iring from a fleshly people sacrifices suited to their character lthat is, sacrifices ch at were also fles hlyJ, he by cerrai n types prefigured t he true sacrifice" (Against Faustus 22.21). Elsewhere in the same o-earise, he states that these b lood sacri fices were well suited to "a perverse people" (18.6). In a nother place, Jesus' Jewish contemporar ies fu me with "rage and hostiliry" (22.36). It is as if, when Augustine is not co nsciously develo ping his own argu ment, Faustus' stock questions a nd criticisms- \Xihy would a spir itual god ask for sacrifices of flesh? Why d id the Jews so emphatically reject God's own son?- dicit from him stock ad~-sus Judaeos rejoinders. But the general u tility o f chis o lder catholic tradition, for this specific project, had been compromised: The astu te Faustus had co-o pted roo much of it in his Capihtks. O n the evidence o f t he o ther \vorks that he had undertaken in the second half of the 390s, however, Augustine's chinking about biblical texts a nd textual interpreta tion, and his thinking a bo ut botv to ch ink abou t t he past, h ad already moved off in new direcrions. directions rhat d iverged from t he saliem points o f the old adr'f'rsus Iudaeos invective. \Ve can see this most clearl)' b)' watching how Augustine, in the course of countering Faustus, focuses on two episodes-one biblical, one historical-around which the earlier anti-Jewish t radition had built parcicuJarly caustic condemnations: th e stor)' of Cain a nd t he "exile" of th e Jews after the war with Rome in 70 c.E. Drawing on h is positive evaluation of ancient j ewish practice, a rguing by a ppea] to rhe h istori-

Tb t Mark of Ca.i11 · 263

cal typologies t hat so strongly sha pe th is entire refuration, Augustine framed a strategic characterization of contemporary jewry against Faustus. To do so, he began where the Bib le began: with Genesis. All of Genesis> Augustine asserts, "in its most minute details prophesies Christ and his church' (Agai11st FaJ<Stm 12.8). He proceeds to demonst rate how this is rhe case by reinterpreting Genesis through ingenious typologies>linking every story fro m t he creation of h umanity in Genesis t.:26 through to jacob's benedictions in Genesis 49 to histo rical incidents and theological truth s relating to Christ a nd his church. Beginning w·it h the seven days of creatio n, Augustine reviews t he course of salva tion history as seven stages or ages. In the lase "day}" t he current "sixth age,'' he states, the irnage of God within man is, th rough the chu rch, being renewed (Against Faustus 12.7; he had used the same device in his earliest commentary, Genesis against the ManiciJees>p. 135 a bove; he evoked it again in ((}llfossions 13). God's crea tion of man an d then of man's "wife" from his side> Augustine continues (slid ing from Genesis J ro Genesis 2) recalls also rhe creation o f the church, Chrisc>s bride, made from his side "by the sacra ment of his blood." (This image refers both ro t he eucharist as the blood of Ch rist and to th e passion narrative in Joh n's gospel>in which a Ro man soldier spears ch e side o f jesus' corpse, "and at once b lood and water came out"; John 19:34). From chis poin t o n t hroughout the rest o f book C\Yelve, the ideas o f flesh and bWodJ variously defined, contrasted, or co njoined, weave thro ughout Augusd ne's presentat ion. Augustine rnoves next to a mari tal meta pho r. Just as a man leaves his f.·tther and morher m cleave to his wife, m become «o ne flesh'' with her (Genesis 2:22- 24), so also Christ "left his mother the Syn agogue, stuck as she was in a flesh ly way (car11alim; an adverb: "flesh ily sruck") to the O ld Testament, to cling to t he church, his holy bride, so t hat in the peace of che New Testament they might be o ne flesh'• (A~tinst Ftm· stus 12.8 1 wit h a nod toward Ephesians 5:}21 o n the "mystery'' of t he church as Ch risr's b ride). This association o f t h e O ld Testament wit h flesh in a negative sense and of the New Testament wit h fles h in a positive sense (the chaste flesh o f t he chu rch, of whose body Christ is t he head) leads Au· gustine (skipping over rhe Fall!) d irectly to a co mparison of t he

264 • ,\!.! GUSTIN E A~U THE J I:WS

primevaJ brothers in Genesis 4· T he transition is rricky, because Abel, che "good brochd'- and a <:ype, as we will shordy see, of Chrisc-is che one who deals in "flesh": he makes blood offeri ngs ro God, sacrificing first born sheep. Cain, by contrast1 offers produce. Augustine finesses che interpretacive awkwardness by associating Cain and his "fr uit of c.he earth" with "earch" icsel~ the source of his produce (ex terrae) ''from che earth"). Earth and earthly are implicitly "bad"' in this comparison, in order to do what Augustine needs them to do fo r his exegesis. Their moraJ value, however, changes shorcly. God rejeccs Cain's offering. Abel's offering of sheep God acccpcs. Because Augustine associates Abel's offering with the New Testament's "faithful praise of God," he correlates chese sheep with the church's worship, characterized by imJOCl,ntia ("harmlessness" or "blamelessness,). Cain's vegetable offerings 1 by contrast, resonate with che earch l)' or earch-bound works (rerrena opera) of che Old Tescamenc. Jusc as God preferred Abel's "blameless'' worship co Cain's "earch ly" worship1 so does he value the New Testament's service over that of the Old Tescamenc (Against Faustus 12.9). Suddenly, in che midst of this awkwardly constructed bm nonetheless boilerplate comparison wherein "jews - earth bound bad; Auguscine incerrupts himself. "Earli"; theje~vs had done these things rightf>,"- that is, these ten·tma opera-"buc they were unfaithful in not d iscinguish ing che period of t he Old Tesramen c fi·om che period, o nce Christ appeared, of the New Testament., Augustine proceeds with his cypology o nly after he has defended Jewish blood offerings yec one more time. (Remember, he had invoked Abel's sacrificing of animals to justi~' the je\vs' cult against accusations that it smacked of paganism~ p. 248 above.) Abel is a figu re for Ch risc, he says, and Cain a figure for che jews. \'V'eaving together lines from Psalms, Matthew, and john, Au+ gustine then moves co his nexr point: Abel, the you nger brother, is killed by Cain, che elder brother; so also is Chrisc, t he head of the "younger" people (chac is, the Gentiles) "killed by t he elder people, the Jews'' (Against Faustus t2.9). Malice, jealousy, uncontrolled rage: biblicaJ commencacors, whether jewish or Christian) had long associated such negative emotions with che figu re of Cain. But the cale of Cain and Abel is only the

lirsr of a rich series of stories abou t rival sib lings in Genesis in which the younger son sup plants che elder son. When looking to chis theme to express the divine ch osenness o f rheir own commun iq•> incerprerers had tnany other> more narratively developed unhappy brothers to choose from: Isaac and Ishmael, j acob and Esau, Joseph and j acob's other sons. Patristic wricers before Augustine who had in terpreted Genesis 4 most often presented Abel as a type for rh e church and Cain as a cype for t he synagogue and thus fo r the Jews. Such typologies tended to emphasize th e d ifference between God's reception o f the brothers' respective o fferings. God, said th ese Christian com mentators, clearly preferred the church to the synagogue.' Augusrine> when arguing with Faustus, also presents the story o f Cain and Abel as a story of God's p reference fo r Christian ri tes over Jewish ones; b ut he develops o ther>newer ideas as well. "Cain'' for Augustine serves less as a symbol signaling t he unsuitableness o f cu rren t jewish worship (though it is t hatJ roo) and more a.s a tnpos explaining two striking characteristics unique to the Jewish people as now constituted: their persistent religious o r ethn ic or national identity (diffe ren t ways o f noting the same thing) and their ubiquity. No fo reign ruler whether pagan o r Christian, Augustine remarks, has ever succeeded in forcing the Jews to relinquish their an cestral practices and their sacred Law (Against Faush.s 12.13; quoted on p. 16 above); and the Jews have pe rsisted in remaining a d istincr people despite being scattered everywhere, a minority deprived o f their own commonwealth (r2. l2). Augustine attribu tes these t\vo singular filets of jewish existence to God himself. Jf it is God who scatcers the Jews to punish them for the death of his Son, it is also God who p rotects the Jews> and God who has ensured that other nations know chat it is he who protects them. Protects them how? (And from what?) God, explains Augustine, has placed upon the Jewish people the "mark o f Cai n" (12. L2-Jj}.

This description of]ewish nationhood has very broad application, which we can best see by following Augustine seep by step as he develo ps it. "God asks Cain where h is b rother is/' states Augustine, quickly noting (since Man ichees saw rhis question as indicating rhe Jewish god 's ignorance) that God> of co urse, knew the answer, but that he

266 • AI!GUST I NE A~U THE J I:WS

spoke to Cain in the same way chat a p residing judge in court asks the cri minaJ to acknowled ge h is crime (Against Faustus 12.10). Cain replies char h e does not know Abel's \vhereabouts a nd that he is not h is brother's keeper. O n this poinr, Augustine jumps from Genesis 4:9 d i· reedy into rh e present: "And what answer do the jews g ive us up co chis very day whenJ with God's own voice-thar is, with the sacred scrip· rures-we interrogate them about Christ, other than claiming that rh ey do nor know the Chr ist of whom we speak? Cain o nly pretended not to know where Abel was; bur the jews, in denying C hrist, are themselves deceived ." Ifo nly the Jews had been willing to keep t he Christian fai th} he comments, they might indeed have been Christ's "keeper." Augustine then co nti nues with the lines quoted at the beginn ing of ch is c hapter: God•s own voice, through scripture, accuses the Jews of shedding C hrist 's blood (12.10). O nly now does Augustine, in citing Genesis 4 :10 ("'The voice of your brorh er•s b lood c ries to me from rhe eart h!"), co me ro his first main point: that the Jews' murder o f Chr ist fo unded the church. Bypassing rh e o pportunity co develop a charge of deicide, he instead uses Abel's murder co expand o n a n elabo rate sacra menraJ metaphor. "The blood of Christ has a loud voice on rhe earrh, when all rhe nations of rhe earth, receiving his blood"'-agajn the eucharistic image-"respond,
ful who have been redeemed by h is blood" (Agttinst Faustus 12. 10). God chen curses Cain '"from the earth, which has opened irs mouth toreceive your brother's b lood from your hand." The eanh, God tells h im, will no longer g ive its yield to Cain; he will live ''groaning an d trem· bling"' o n ch e earth (Genesis 4:11-12). Augustine proceeds co transmute rh ese verses in Genesis inro yec more images of the eucharist a nd of ch e church. (Because Augustine personifies th e chu rch as a fe male character here. 1 \\~II put the fi rst letter in upper case, since Cburcb functions as the figu re's personal name.) Thus the unbelieving people of rhe Jews are cursed "from che eaJ'Ch 1" which is to say, fro m che Chut·ch. In rhe confession of sins, rhe Church has opened her mouth co receive rhe blood ofChl'ist pou red o ur fo t• rhe !'emission of sins. That blood was poUt·ed our

Tbr Mark of Cam · 267

by rhe hand of che petsecuror who chose nor co be sub p·~ttia bm mb lege. And so che Chu1·ch issues che curse) rhac is, che ChUI·ch underscands and ded aims char curse spoken by rhe aposcle Paul when he says, ''Those who are under che \vorks of the law are unde1· rhe curse of rhe Law" (Galatians J lO). ;WAIN$1' F,tUSHJS 12.1 1

By framing che Jews• sta t us as their choice to remain sub lege rather than, thro ugh Christ, to rnove sub gratia, Augustine is o f co urse repea ting Paul's vocabulary. Bur he now thinks with chis vocabulary in terms of t he fo ur stages o f salvat io n history that he had mapped o u t some time earlier in h is Notes 011 RO'mam.: before rhe Lawl under the Law, under grace, and in peace (p. 163 a bove). Histor)' has surged to a new stage; Chrisc, the t urning poinr of historyJ has brough t fallen h umaniC}'' from under the Law to under g race. Yet those Jews who chose not to follmv Christ have refused to advance. Their lives are o ut o f joint wich the times. Augustine co nti nues to develop th ese ideas with a thick mix o f metaphors for Ch rist, t he church, a nd rh ejews. God cu rsed Cain, saying that Cain will till t he earth but he will gain no advantage from it. But wair; isn't th e ch urch the "eart h,. that drank in Christ's blood? How do Jews "'till"' ch e chu rch? Augustine ca tch es himself: "\X'e need nor understand 'the earth ch a t Cain must tiiJ> as rhe san1e earrh t hat opened its mouch ro receive rhe b lood t hat he sh ed.'' \Vhat "ea rth 1" then. is this? The Church acknowledges and declares thac che jewish people are CU!'sed •(from rhe eatrh" because, even afcer kilhng Chrisc ["Abet~· in this imagery) rhey still conunue ro "rill the earth''; char is, rhe}' cry co wresr a sustaining yield from eanhly circumclsion, earthly Sabbarhsl earthly unleavened bread, earthly Passover. Buc everyone knows char chis eanhly riUing <:onceals che susraining )~eld of Chrisr's grace>which the }e\VS do nor receive as long as chey continue in thei1· impiety and unbelief, as the New Tesramenr reveals. A C>A INS'I' 1->tuSl'US l l. l t

268 • .\UGUSTII'li ANO Ti l E J EWS

Eat·tb in this passage now symbolizes scriptu re, which the Jews contin ue to till (or "work," oprratm-) withou t benefit. "Tilling the earth .. in an "ea rthly" wa}' equates to enacting (th us to u nderstanding) the comma nd ments o f the O ld Testamen t in a '' Aeshly" way. This idea of right and wro ng interpretations o f scripture immediately puts Augustine in mind of that classic Pauline image fo r jewish textual misunderstanding, rh e veil that obscures the deep meanings of the Law (2 Corint hians j:tj - 18). This o bscuring veil> says Augusrine, lies over the minds of unbelievingJen·s whenever th ey read the O ld Testa ment. It is removed o nly by Christ who, he says, taking a quick swipe at the Manichees, "does not do away \\~th the reading o f the Old Testament, but with the veil that h ides its virtm," the strength o r sustaining power chat it can yield when read th e correct way. How does Christ accom· plish this u nveiling? Augustine jumps to the Passion narrative: \Vhen C hrist dies on the cross, the curtain o f the Temple tears in two (Manhew 17:51). Christ's passion reveals the "mysteries of the rites" (secreta sacramentomm) that had been h idden within the Temple/ the Old Testament/Judaism. Chr ist's passion gives this revelation to the fai thful who go to h im, "mouths o pen in confession in ord er ro drink his b lood" (Agaimt Faustus L2.11.) Having wended his way {in very few lines) from murder and plowing thro ugh God's curse, Christ's crucifixion, veils and Temple currai ns, textua l in terpretation, the eucharist> and the chu rch, Augustine comes back) o nce again) to Cain. The Je\vish people) he says, like Cain, contin ue to rill t he earth (now a meraphor for scripture) by o bserving the Law in an earthly way, which is ro say, in a fleshly w-ay (carnaliter). Jn consequence, the earth/ scripture will not yield its virtm to rhem) because the Je\vs do nor recogn ize that scriptu re's tJirtus is, precisely, the grace of Christ. Then, a noth er association: "So, roo, was Christ's own flesh 'the earth' fro m which) by crucif}ling him, the Jews produced our salvation, because he d ied fo r our sins" (Agaimt Faustus t2.u ). Thar is, th e Jews "sowed" Ch rist, but t hey did not harvest h im. Jewish unbelief and impiety p revent them fro m garnering the fruits of their toil They killed Ch risc but, because o f their u nbelief, the)' gained no benefit from the result of his death , which is to say, t he power of h is resurrec cion. The risen Chr ist did nor appear to those who had crucified h im, 4

Tb(' Mark of Cai11 · 269

Augustine concludes> just as Cain was not allowed to see the fruit o f his labors. I have ta ken more ch an 1>600 words to explicate (most o f>not all of) the th ick tna.ss of images that Augustine took some 480 words to present. \X' ithin th is mass lurks a c rucial question: rhe problem o f h uman moraJ agency> which immed iately brings in tow the problem o f divine justice. \Vhy is it chat the jews do nor understand the message thar they themselves t ransport and embody? Why do they not acce pt the g race thar God 1 t hrough Christ, offers t hem? Augustine so far has touched on this question o nly lightly. At o ne po inr he explains t he jews' failure by saying that rh ey were roo proud of t heir "works of t he Law,'' alluding ro Pa ul in Romans 3· Excessively p leased wit h their own righteousness, t he jews could not humbly acknowledge their own sins. Th us t heir offerings to God have not been accepred ; and so they seethe, inflamed wit h rage, against rhe humble o ne (Abel/Ch rist) whose offe ring God acceprs (Against Faus~IS 12.9). Shortly later, Augustine speaks another way: T he Jews do nor follow Christ because they do not wan t to follow Christ. They are nolentisJ "unwilling"' to be sub gratia (ll.ll). Yet in the fi nal lines of th is same chapter, rhe Jews are prevented from understand ing the C hristological significance of scriptu re by God's own curse. Till as t hey m ig ht, t hey cannot get the earth to give rhem its yield. "As God said>'You will tiJI the earth. bur ir will no longer yield ro you its ttirtus.'" And what is chis virtus, chis power that Jews ca nnot benefit &om? The power of Chr isr's resurrection> that Christ who was "crucified in weakness, b ur who lives by t he vit·tus) the power o f God," citing Paul (2 Corinthians IJ4). So isje\\~sh pride o r d isinclination or incomprehension t he cause o f their blindn ess or its effect? As he considers rhe prophets of t he O ld Testament in books twelve and t hirteen and argues for cheir immediate significan ce for the church, Augustine will cry to frame a morally coherent answer to chis question. lt is a version of that sam e question t hat had d riven him in h is younger years firsr to r.he Manichees and ch en away from t hem; a version of rhar question that his period in l\'Hian with "the books of rhe Platonists" had helped h im to reframe; a version of that question char came co dominate his response co Simplicianus and that will reemerge to dominate his controversy with Pelagius. How does the

270 • AUGUST I NE AN"D T HE J I:WS

idea ofan ali-good and all-powerful god cohere "ith the problem o f evil? How does a just god justly punish human wrong-do ing, if the ability to d o good is solely his own gift? How does divine justice relate to hum an freedom? Or-irs iteration in this particular passage of Against F:mstushow can God justly condemn Israel for not believing in his Son, if the source of that unbelief is God himself? As he works through book twelve to book thi rteen, Augustine will present his answer.

...

Augustine continues tO interprer God's curse. Nor only will rhe earrh no lo nger yield irs virttl.< ro Cain bur he will "live groaning and trembling o n rhe earrh" (Genesis 4:12). "Here no one can fail to see that wherever the Jews are scarrered, rhey g roan and tremble," Augustine co mments, correlating Cain's ancient fate wirh the current liue of rhe jews. "They groan fo r the loss of rheir MEAN\VI·I ILE, IN BOOK TWELVE,

kingdom, and rhey tremble in fear at the vastly superior number of Christians.'' But Cain, he nores, immediately co mplains ro God after hearing this curse. He seems rnore anxious abo ut being driven from his fields and abour bodily death rhan he is about his impending sep· aration from God. (Cain will be "hidden from God's face"; Genesis 4:14; Against Fau.m," in co nsequence of killing Abel conjures the fare of the Jews in 70 c.E., the notional beginning of rhe second exile, in consequence of their killing Christ. Suddenly, God interrupts Cain's anxious co mplaining:

Whar does God say? "Not sol An)'Oile who kills Cain will be

undone by vengeance seven-fold.'t Ir's as if God had said, '(lr w111 nor be as you say. The impious race {gt11us} of che carnalJews will never d ie a bodil)' deach. \X' hosoever would desrroy chem tn chis way will unloose a vengeance seven-tOld, char is, he will bear away from rhem rhe seven· fold vengeance whtCh I have wrapped around rhe jewish people (co prorecc rhem] on accounr of rheir

guilr in murdering Christ.'' Thus, rhe jewish people will never perish, tor rhe whole lengrh of rhe seven days of rime. T hey make visible co rhe Chriscian faithful rhe subjecrion ch ar rhey merited

because rhe)', Ill rhe pdde of rhei1· kingdom, pur rhe Lo1·d ro dearh. And so "dle Lo1·d God placed a mark upon CaUl, lese anyone coming upon him should kiiJ him" {Genesis 4:15). AGMNS 7'1'>1USTUS t2.1l - t 3

The '' mark of Cain/' in colloquial English, often serves as a phrase synonymous with a "mark of shame." Neither in the biblical story itself nor in Augustine's reuse of it, however, does the phrase work that wa)'· True, the o ne who bears it is a murderer. Bur the poin t of the sign js not to shame its bearer, but to warn anyone who co mes upon him that rhe murderer stands under the protection of God. \Vhat is this signum, the protecting mark chat God puts on the jews? It is si7J1Um legis suae, the sign of their Law, "'which d istingujshes them from all other nations and peoples.'' But what does this mean? Though ever)' other people subjugated by Rom e adopted the ceremo nies of Roman

worship, observes Augustine, the jews alone, whether u nder pagan kings or Christian o nes, have "never lost the sign of their law,'' meaning that they have never stopped o bserving their ancestraJ practices. Augustine deems this facr revera nmltH.m mirabile, "a wonder to be greatly respected'' or "'a miracle to be greatly in awe of" This God-g iven sign, his Law, is enacted by je:\1/S every,vhere. It in turn explains why no empero r or king who has jews living within his dominion "kills them." Augustine s pecifically explains whar he

means by '' killing'' j ews: "that is, no mo narch forces them to ce.ase being)eu/s, marked by the sign of their own religious o bservances, and by those same observances set apart fro m the rest of the commu-

27.2: ·AUGUST I NE ,\N'D THIO J IOWS

nity of natio ns" (Against Faustus 12.13). Sabbath. circumcision, food laws. and so on: No monarch coerces jews to stop keeping rheir l aw secsmdt1m canu·m.Jews 1 living in every corner of rhe empiret bereft of their own kingdo m, ('terrified" by the vast!)' superio r number of Christians, do worry abo ut chis f lesh!)' sort of loss, the separatio n fro m the performance of their ancesrraJ customs, Augustine im plies. Like Cain with h is fleshly thinking {Genesis 4:14, just explo red), the j e\\·'S never realize that, precisely on account of their own fleshly thinking about their Law> they have cut themselves off fro m the eternal life pro mised b)' Ch rist's resurrection (Ag(tinst Faustu.s 12.12).

• •• good place to pause. As we have just seen, Augusti ne has described Jews as "terrified" (tremens timon?>"trembling in fear''} because of the vast Christian majority, to whom they live "in subjection"; an d he has also observed that kings d o not "kill" j ews. Some h is-

THIS I S ANOTI-JE R

to rians-notwithstanding Augustine's explicitly metaphorical use of the phrase "killing jews"'- have taken this passage in Agaimt Famtus) and other similar passages in later writings of his, to express Augustine's concerns abo ut rhe Jews' actual physicaJ safety. Other historians have underscood his description o f jews as "living in subjection'' co the Christian majority to frame some sort o f "policy": In a Ch ristian society, they say, Augustine thought that jews should live in servitude. And still others, fi nally, hold t hat Augustine's theological a rgument about rhe reasons for Jewish existence had a happy effect on imperial law, influe ncing Christian emperors so that they decide to protect Jewish reLigious prerogatives.2 But Augustine does nor wri te in a society where the lives of jews are under threat; nor is late-fourth-cemury North Africa the same sort of cul ture that much later medieval and early modern Europe will be. In thar Iacer time and place, Jews will be forced ro wear spedaJ cloth· ing and eventually to li"" in special quarters ("ghettos"). They will be socially d isenfranchised} and from time to cime they will faJI victi m to searing Christian violence. But in Augusti ne's world, jews are Ro man citizens. They sit o n city councils. They own land. And the legal prece-

Tbr Mdrk of Cain · l7J

dent for assurances regarding t heir a ncestral customs stretch back for cent uries before the ascent o f C hristianity. To t he degree that participarion in loca l politics a nd access to locaJ power, to education}and to courts of law reflect society as a system, la te-fourth-ce nrury jews a re still part of'
(A§1inst Famfus 12 .12). But jews sttfforno actual servitude withill rJJe societies of lhose kit~gdoms, nor diJC$ AllfjiStille s.-ry that they should. T heir metaphoric.d sen•it ude to Ch ris-tians, as we will shortl),. see, is a product of Augustine's theologicaJ imagination, a nd it co ncerns rh eir loyal relarionship with their own holy books (seep. }20 below). In shorr, and once again, Augus· tine's jews are rhetorica]Jews, not historical jews. On offer in A[t1itJst Faus·

tus is t heological argument) not soda] o r historicaJ description. Augustine•s rhetoric may line u p wit h social reality, however, a t one s pecific point: the issue of religious coercion. Exactly in rhe period during which he wroce this t reatise, some Christians did attempt to fo rcibl)' separate oth ers from their habitua1 religious customs. \X'ho are the coerced? Against Fatl.
2/4 • AUOUST I Nl! AND T I-t I! J EWS

down pagan shrines, to dismantle temples, and to desrroy the images of rhe gods. (Honorius' edict is preserved in the Thcodo,iall Code r6.ro,r8.) Violent riots be.rween pagans and Christians ensued. \Vhen the dust settled, some images were gone a nd some sanctuaries ruined; 1nany others remained. Bur the initiative clearly exhilarated Auguscine, who saw in rh e emperor's effort the realizarion of a ncient promises in Psalms, Jeremiah, an d Isaiah, which prophesied that one day the nations would destroy their idols. Thus, in Against Faustus, rehearsing an argument between a pagan, Faustus, and himself, Augustine stares chat the pagan would not hesitate to accept the authority of Hebrew scriptures} their foreignness notwithstanding, because "we can prove the reliabiliry (fides) o f the Hebrew pro phets from rhe ful6 1lmenr of th eir prophecies." He then quotes from Psalm 2 and Psalm 72, which speak of Israel's broad dominion ("to the ends of the earth''). Historical Israel never attained such reach, continues Augustine, and current fleshly Israel is wirhout their kingdom. The pro phecy, then, must speak ro the hegemony of"spirirua] Israel,'• that is, to th e hegemony of the Ch ristian empire. The pagan also would be persuaded, Auguscine asserts, beca use t•he woLL1d see the idols of the nations perishing from rhe earth, as predicted by the p rophet Jeremiah " (Agaimt Famtsss 1}7), Quoting Isaiah, he continues: " ' In that day, a man shall cast away his idols of gold and silver._ . .' Has chis man perhaps hidden his idols? Or perhaps he knows someone ... who h as d one this out of fear of the Lord who. through th e stern prohibition of the kings .. . who serve him and bow down to h im .. . now shakes the earth.. (13.9~ ch is " pro · h ibition" is Honorius' legislation). And finally>Augustine concludes, the very antiquiry of rhe Jews' books, so copiously filled with prophecies that now exactly fit the times, would further impress the pagan because the j ewish books provided completely in dependent witness to the claims o f t he church (•3-9-10; fo r "public and u ndeniable proofs" of splendid Christia n triu mphs, 22.76).l How does Augusrine's Christian triumphal ism vis-3-vis pagans relate to his theological argument about Jews in Against Faustus? His point was not to suggest that, in some real way, Jews were in any danger ofbecoming the next imperial target. They were nor. From the days of Constan tine, rhe earliest and readiest t argets of imperially sane-

Thr Mtrrk of Cain · 275

tioned Christian violence had always been other Christians. And even though now (in the lace 390s), with t he innovations of t he Theodosian era, emperors stood o n th e cusp of persecu ting pagans, no one seems either to have expected o r co nceived any such initiatives' being aimed at Jewish populations. Augustine's construction of the "mark of Cain'' in Against Fanstus is not an a rgument against some supposed Christian violence but a theological restatement of how t hings gene rail}' were for jews in any case. The Jews' abiding allegiance to t heir scriptures and cusromst Augustine continues, is by heaven's decree t heir d ivine safeguard. Their ancestraJ practices th emselves constitute t h e mark of Cain whereby God signals to t h e rest of h u manity h is continuing connection to and protection of the Jewish religion a nd thus his continuing desire t hat the jews always exist as a people. Any monarch who might try to force jews co stop living as jews, he asserts, in effect strives against God 1 who is d oubly th e source of their practices: the fi rst rime by giving them t he Law thro ugh Moses at Sinai. th e second time by "sealing'' them in their ancient observance o f t he Law at the time o f their exile in 70 c.E. In other words, acco rd ing to Augustine, the jews are in a completely different category from pagans (the source of whose religion is demons) and from heretics (the source of whose error is their own pride). Jewish law together with t he catholic.a share t he same source, namely, God himself. For this reason, d ispu ting Faustus' a rgument that pagans, jews, and catholics a re all essentially t he same, and onl)' the Manichees are d iffe rent (Against FaSISiti.< 20-3-4, cited on p. 233 above), Augustine maintains the opposite. jews and cat holics, h e insists, stan d togerher in one religious commun il)\ over against all others. True) th e JewsJ like the Manichees, do nor realize (though catholic Christians do) chat the Law fundamentally refers to Christ. Nonetheless, ' if we d ivide all who have a reHgion into those who worship t he o ne God and t hose who worship many gods, by t his distinction ... t he Man ichecs must be classed along wit h the pagans, a nd we belong with the Jews" (20. 10). Though Augustine, in another passage, identifies the Manichees and "all others who stubbornly persist in various erro rs, resisting t he tr uth" with Cain, and thus wit h the jews (t hey all leave rhe presence o f 1

276 • .\UGUSTIN"I! ASO Ti l E J EWS

God and in habir rhe land of Nod, "rhar is, rhe land of fleshly disrurbance"~ cf. Genesis 4:16; Ag.1imt Faustus J2.13), he has made a powerful argument against the Manichaean view ofJews and judaisn1 and thus against the Manichaean view that the Old Testament is unsuita ble to Christianity. By a ppeal to fleshly Israel's continuous and co ntinuing existence as evidence of God's own cont inuing protection, Augustine has by extension asserted the divine source o f his own chu rch, which claims lsraeJ•s hisrory and lsrael's books as its own. The patriarchs of Israel, and indeed th e entire O]d Testament nation, a re for Augustine simply "our fathers" (palm IJQstri; Against Faustus 20.21) .

...

about exile and ident ity co mbine to fo rm the second main poin t of Augustine's argument in books twelve and rhirceen: the positive role that contemporary Jews. virruaUy despite t hemselves, cominue to p1ay fo r t he church. Divine p rovidence had a rra nged h istory} claims Augustine, such that the Jews, whenever they wish to reject o r defy Christianity, acrually promote it. By k illing C hrist, t he Jews brought about the fow1ding of the church and the redemption o f the Gentiles (Agaills/ Faustm t2.u). And by clinging to their Law and thus spurning th e gospel while they wander in the punish ment ofexile,Augusrine asserts, the Jews still perform a un ique, and u niquely valuable, service co the church. Scattered all throughout the empire, th e whole peo ple exist as a sa·iniari~ a «guard ian of the books for the sake of the church, bearing the Law and t he Prop hets, and tesrifying to the doctrine of the chu rch, so that we honor in che sacrament whar chey d isclose in th e letter" {12.23). Preceding Christian tradicion had seen the consequences of the Jews~ war with Rome as exclusively punitive. Augustine, reimagin ing those t raditions t hrough h is creative interpreta tion of Genesis 4, tur ned both t he exile of the Jews after 70 c.E. and rh eir abiding religious distinctiveness in to something that th e church should regard as positive a nd even provident ial. Once Christianicy moved out into the Diaspora., Augustine claims, God sent rheje\VS out rh ere too, so t hat t hey would co nt inue their un ique historical mission as witnesses to th e message of the incarnate Son. The read)' identifiability o f their cuscoms, the antiquity of their TIH!SE THEMES

4

TIN Mttrk

()f C.tin ·

277

natio n and o f their sacred texts, their extreme attachment to those texts, and, finally1 their widespread dispersion: On acco un t o f all these F.tctors,jews evel)Where serve to authenticate, even to vindicate, Chr is· tian beliefs. "From rhe jewish man uscripts we prove that these lprophecies] were not written by us to suit the event1 but were lo ng ago pub lished and preserved by the Jewish natio n" (Against Famhss l j.JO; also tj.u). And the jews· rejection of the Chr istian interpretation o f their pro phecies only serves to strengthen the church's claims: k is a great confirmation of our fai t h char such imporram

resrimony is borne by enemies. T he beJieving Gem iles cannot suppose that these testimonies co Chl'is t are 1·ecem forgeries, fo1· rh ey ate found in books held sacred fo1·so many ages by rhose \\'ho crucified Ch rist, books still venerated b}' chose who

blaspheme him . . . . T11e unbelief of t he jews has been made of signal benefic co us, so that ch ose who do nor receive these truth s in their heart . . . nonet heless carry in their hands, for our benefit1 rhe writings in \t:hich t hese rrurhs are contained. T he unbelief of rhe jews increases rather chan lessens rhe aurhoriry of these books1 for rheir blindn ess is irself foretold in rhem. They testify co rhe o·urh by rhelr nor u nderstanding it.

The Jews as. Jews, concludes Augustine, are thus the servants of the church.

••• of these scriptu ral pro phecies o f jewish u nbelief, however, and their unambiguous confirmation>raised o nce again for Augustine that s.ame cluster of questions that had dogged him earlier, d uring his p ro longed struggle with Paul's letter ro the Romans. If the sin of unbelief is mandated by heaven-as \\'aS the case with Esau> hated by God while still in the womb (Romans 9:11-13); as was t he case wirh Pharaoh, whose hearr God hardened (Romans 9:17-18); and as is the case with anyone whom God chooses to shape as a "vessel o f wrath made for destruction'' (Romans 9:22)-how then is God just in punT HB VERY CLA RITY

278 • ;\U
ishing the sinner? If all are equally, hopelessly sinful before the reception of g race-ch e condusion wrought by Augustine's u nderstanding of h uman solidarity "in Adam"-then how does God with any justice decide between sinners? An d what does God 1s ••election '' of lsraeJ mean if salvation, going to the Gentiles, has passed Israel by? In To Simplicianus, written cwo years o r so before he began his response to Faustus' C~pitula, Augustine had closed h is examination of Roman s 9 with a dramatic consideration of the conversion of Paul. Paul (as Augusrine imagined him) had been a blasphemer and a sensualist, a hateful and violent persecutor of t he c hurch. God had called h im nonetheless. \Vrenched inco a new life sub gratia, chosen accord ing co some standard of justice thac was both utterly secret (occultissima) and incomprehensible (itJScmtibilia), Paul exemplified fo r Augusrine God's radical freedom co save \vhomever he would. And, of course, God also had the absolu te freedom 110t to save, as welL How did hearrive ac h is decisions? Impossible co know. The p ious could only affirm God's justice as a p rinciple of fait h. "Is there un righteousness with God? God fo rb id!" (Ro mans 9:14: To Simplicianus 1.2,22). God owes explanations to no o ne. Augustine opens Agaimt Fausttls o n this same note. \Vhy was someone as intelligent and well -spo ken as Faustus left in such great erro r? Why does God so often choose to help, instead, the slow and the fee ble? Divine 1nercy makes its decisions, Sa)'S Augustine, according to its .secret or hidden standard of fairness (occulta aequitate; Against Fausrns 1.1). And human moral decisio n, he cont inues, "in accord with che just judgment of God," o pe rates \Vithout co nstraint (2.5). Augustine similarly conjures this unconstrained will in book twelve, as we have seen, when explain ing the ]e\\~sh resistance to God's g race. The jews were not saved because they had nor wanted co be saved: They were nolentis, "un willing" (12.1 1). Elsewhere, against l\'lan ichaean views on evil, herepeats a sentence chat he had been using against ch em since h is very earliest writings, back in Jraly: "The o rigin of sin is in the will'' (22.22). Our familiarity with Augustine's p revious work o n this question of hum an moral freedom, however, should caution us against being beguiled by his word choice here. Through ou t h is life as a catholic Christian, Augu stin e would hold chat h u man will was "free.'' But in

Tbr Mark of Cam · 279

that arc o f his work chat we can t race from his debate wirh Fo rtuna· tus to his Notes on Ronums th rough to the Confession~ his d efinition o f the scope o f the will•s freedom had changed. Free comes to mean, for him, '' not subject co any exterior force." The sentence on the "unco n· strained" exercise of the will just alluded to, fo r example, srands in a passage where Augustine speaks againsr astral infl uences on human destiny. Though no correspo nding Latin wo rd appears in his text> "withou t ex.tental const raint" better translates his meaning {Against Fasts/><.< 2-5). But will operated wit h exr:reme in ternal constrain ts. The will as now constit uted -as Augustine argued brilliantly when explicating Ro· mans 9 to Si rnplicianus~ as he demonstrated brilliancly in his narration of his own past in the fi rst eight books of the Confessions-is undermined by its own self. Conflicted, ineffectual, chis will is indeed "free''-no srar or demon or external power compels it-but it is free o nly co sin. Absent g race, t he best that a person can do is to want not to sin, t hough he cannot not sin. (This idea of inner conflict fueled Au· gustine's newer interpretation of Ro rnans 7:1)-16: "l do not d o what I wish co do, but what l hate, r:his 1 do."} This enervating condition is the just penalty \•is ired on the whole family of man, because of r:he sin comrnit ted by the whole fam ily of man>back when all were "in Adam.,. Augustine's comments on Faustus in Against Faustus 1.11 then, and his remark on r:he Jews in J 2.11, borh come down to the same t hing: Neither parry had embraced true Christianit)' because neither had been enabled by God to do so. Or, as Augustine says in book nine> using Paul's image of the o live rree (Romans 11:16-26): The u nbelieving Jews have been b roken off from t he t runk of the good o live, "that is, from t he holy Hebre\v sr:ock," while Faustus, a Gentile, ''remains in che bitterness o f the wild olive" (Ag.Unst Fat1sttu 9.2). But it is God's handrendered u nobtrusive, perhaps, thanks to the passive voice o f the verb-that does chis pruning. Augustine especiaJiy invokes God 's "mysterious and hidden jus· rice" throughom books twelve and t hirteen, where he discusses the fate o f the Jews fro m t he perspective of biblical pro phecy. In a dense cento o f verses culled from t he gospels, Isaiah, Daniel, and Psalms, Augustine reviews the patent prophecies of Christ's passion and resurrectio n. Be·

28o ·

AI!GUST I NE A~U THE J I:WS

cause jews know this O ld Testament's literat ure inrimarely1 he says, ' 1we can a rgue wit h them fro m actuaJ evenrs" (even rhough, as he himself claims here, jews are divinely p revented from understanding; Against

Faust11s 12-44). The expectation of che Genciles' rurning to che God of Jsrael in rhe messianic age stands in their own sacred writings, Sa)'S Augustine~ thar grear conversion, achieved through the church~ has been

mosr manifesdy realiud. And rhejews' own h istory, since the crucifixion of Christ, o nly reinfo rces t he chu rch's views. Their temple gone, r.heir sacrifices no m ore1 the priesd y and king ly a nointing ceased: AU had hap pe ned exaccl)' as their own ho ly books had foretold. T har S)tmbolic anoinring could nor scop until t he coming of Chl'isr, who was prefigUI'ed by rhis drual. Por among all of their anoinred ones t he jews always search ed for rheir redeerner, rhe one who was ro save rh em. Bur the)' were bli11ded by the secret ;ustia

of God. T hinking only of the messiah's power, chey failed co understand his weakness, th rough which he d ied for us.

Excaec41ti ocmlta iustitia Dei. \Vhy then can jews not u nderstand the clear meaning of their own writings, to which they have always been so

loyally a ttached? Because God has blinded them. Why did he do cha t? \Ve can nor know why: His reasons a nd the standards of fairness that he uses are "hidden" o r "secret " o r "obscure" {occulta). All rhat piety

can do is affirm chat this secret sta ndard must be jusr, because it is God who uses it. Augustine o n this po int sounds very much like Paul, whose letter

co the Romans guides him in his own chinking. PauJ coo had marveled at his kinsmen's u nbelief, and he too had artribu ted rheir "hardening'' to divine init iative. God "'hardens whomever he ch ooses" (Romans

9:18). The elect \vichin Israel u nderstan d, b ut "the rest were hard· ened"- thac is, by God (Romans 1q). Israel's hardening is a "mystery" (Romans u :15). Bur Paul had written within a rime frame rhar was utterly differem from Augusti ne's. He \vas convinced that he and his generation stood poised o n the cusp of cosmic c hange, when t he god o f Jsrael would ac-

Tbt> Mdrk of Cao1 · 281

complish the definitive defeat of evil t h rough the imminent return from heaven o f his Son. Pau l held this conviction both early and late. He affirms it in the fi rst letcer that we have fro m h im ("\'(le who a re aliv•, wh o a re left until the [second] coming o f the Lord , will not precede those who have died"; 1 Thessalonians 4:15) and he repeats it in his finaJ one (''Salvation is nearer to us than when we first believed ''; Roma ns tj:u). And h i.sco ry> Paul asserted, would never end with God breaking h is promises to Israel. In Paul's scenar io> Israel had been hardened both temporarily and providentially. God wa nted the gospel (so Paul reasons) to go from the "renmanr" within Israel (among whom, says Pau l, he himself stands) thence to t he Gentiles. The greater part o f Israel would understand o nlv o nce the Genriles' "full n umber" had ' been gathered in (Romans 11:25). God e nsured t hat the gospel would spread according to this pattern o f reception by making Israel, for the (brief ) time being, deaf and blind to h is message of redemption (Romans u :S). In other word s, according to Paul> GocPs hardening o f Israel was strategic, not punitive. And it was o nly remporary. As history rushes to its conclusion, and as the "full nu mber" of Gentiles comes ro Ch rist, God will cease harden ing "part of Israel. ... And so all Israel will be saved" (Romans 11:26). In the end, God has mercy o n all (Romans ll j 2).• Augustine belie\red firmly that j udaism was essentially, uniquely> congruent with Christianity. His defense of actual jewish practice> both a ncient and contemporary, and h is insistence th at jesus, Paul> a nd the entire fi rst generation of th e chu rch had honored the Law and kept it-and t har their gentile counterpa rts, to the church's benefit> had adopted some of its p recepts-enunciated this belief. So coo did his historicizing typo logies, by which he bound both testaments together. His o u tlook o n the abidingsancrityand value of the Law aligns him in many ways with Paul. But his perspective> inevitably> is very diffe rent. By Augustine's lifetime, long cenruries stood ber\'.:een Chr isr's resurrection and h is an ticipated seco nd coming. Augusrine does not share Paul's sense o f an impending ending, wit h all the clarity that such a conviction can b ri ng. And he knows something that Paul did not know: that Jewish Jerusalem, and its Temple, had been destroyed.

2&t

·AUGUST! Nil ASD THIO JEWS

The simple passage of time between Paul's period a nd his own thus required Augustine to rein terpret the significance of the Jews' rejection of the gospeL In his view, this rejection occurs in two d istinct phases: firsr, in rh e past. with their crucifixio n of jesus, and>second, from rhac point up to the p resent, wirh their continued resistance to the message of rhe church. And, un like Paul, Augustine had to make sense of rhe destruction of th e Temple. For h im as for the t radition that he stands in, t he "dea th'' of rh e Jews' temple and of rh eir king dom was the divine penalty exacted for th eir role in the death of]esus. Their own pro phets, Augustine repeats. had fo resee n rhat the jews would kill C hrist, chat they would not even recognize who he was. (For this reason> Augustine later commented. Jesus had p rayed, "Farh er) forgive t hem. They do not know what they do" (Luke 2r34; Faith in 11Jings UnseetJ 6.9j. He makes the same poin t here, alluding to Paul, in Against Faustus t} JJ, quoted just below.) Seeing co ntempo ra ry Jewish commun ities all throughout rh e empire as the effect of a pun itive exile, the t ransgenerational consequence of "fratricide>" facilitated the church's rereading o f rhe Septuagint whereby all these disparate, more recent events could be worked back into the g rand pattern of biblical salvation h istory. All of chose prophetic texts char spoke o f displacement, loss, and exile under Assyria and Babylon coL~d now be reused to rnake religious sense ofJerusalem's destruction by Rome and of the jews' current>wide dispersion. The p ro phets' words abour forgiveness, abou t the restored and eternal house of David, and about the turning of the Gentiles to the god o f Israel co uld all be referred ro rhe chu rch. "The kings o f the earth are now happily subdued by C hrist," Augustine enthuses in 399· "All rh e nations serve him . . . . The hearts of the fai thful are confirmed b)' seeing these ancient p redictions now fullilled " (Agaimt Faustn.s lJ.7l· The Jews, by rebuffing the gospel, had certainly given the chu rch ample time a nd o pportun ity co go to t he Gentiles. Why then was Israel still hardened? Why still blind? And why should they be held accountab le if (accord ing to this read ing of the prophetic script) it were God himself who had prevented their receiving C hrist back in the days of Pilate, and God who p revented it srill? Augustine puts rhese questions into the mou th of an imaginary interlocutor:

Tht !tt..trk of Cdin • 283

Some pe1·son might be rno\ced to ask why che Jews> in whose books we find all ofrhese prophecies (which \Ve know have been reaJized), do nor join With us in the communion of rhe Gospel Bur once he was shown rhat chei1· continuing u nbeliefhad also been foreseen, he would only crust rhese books rhar much more. For who is so foolish rhac he does nor see chat rhejews do nor believe, who so lacking in judgmem t hac he precends not ro see dlis? Who, mdeed, can doubt char the propher Isaiah spoke prectsely abouc rhe unbelieving Jews when he said, ''The ox knows irs owner> che ass irs masrer>s S[able; bur ls!'ael has noc known me, have nor undersrood rneJ• {fsaiah t:3)? And elsewhere. as rhe Aposde rem.inds us, "All day long I have screeched out my hands co an unbelieving, comrary people'' (£saiah 65:2; Romans 10:21). And especially whel'e he says> ''God has gtven rhem a spir1r of remorse, and eyes so char rhey do noc see, and ears so rhat chey neicher hear nor u nde!'scand'' {Isaiah 6:"10; Romans n:S). The1·e are many similar passages. Bur what if chis person rhen goes on ro ask, In t~~hat w.ty IJar't the jews sinned, ifGod was d" one rPM blinded d!fm so tiM& the)> did not knorv Christ? nl}' people

AGAINST I:AVS'Tt.'S l j .l t

In defense of d ivine justice, Augustine agaln invokes divine inscrutability:

If he asks such a question, we would arrempr ro 1nsrrucr chis naive man, reaching him rhac che penal C)' of rhis blindness rhac affiicrs rhe Jews is indeed fair, since ir is a punishment for iiJeit· remt sins_, I(Jhicb .1re k110tun 01J~)' rc God. And we would demonscrace rhac borh t he Apostle and t he prophets have spoken about precisely t his sore of siruacion, thar is, abour rhe judgmenc of secrrt sins. "F'or dlis reason,!') Paul says, •cGod gave rhem up co rhe lusts o f their own hearrs, and co an immoral mind, so char rhey would ace in ways rhar were nor ficr.ing·J {Romans 1:24). In saying rhis, Paul wishes co reach chat publtc, obvious sins occur as rhe pen airy for prior; bidden sim. Lesr (go on roo long, ( would rhen simply poinr

2A.J ·

.\UGUSTIN"I! ASO Ti l E J EWS

ro t he prophet )eremtah. Jeremiah reaches. ••He is a man. \X1ho should know him?>' Bur lest the Jews use their nor t•ecognizing Clwisr as an excuse-for if rhey had known, says rhe Aposrle, 1'the)' would nor have CI'Ucilied rhe Lord of glory" {r Corinrhians 2:8}rhe prophet immediate!)' goes on co show chat the Jews' nor recognizing Christ was itself the j"sr petJa!ty fOr somdiJing f•lse> somedJmg d1.1t. the;• bad recretf)• earned. And so jeremaah continues, 1 ' 1, rhe Lord, search rhe heart, I ti'Y irs reins, so rhar I might give to each one as he deserves, according co che fruit of his deeds" (Jeremiah 17:10). AG,ti NS7' 1-'A USTU.'> t3. 11f

Secret sins known only co God (occt~ltos peccatis Deo cognitis). A continuing penalty merited by other, priorJ hidden sins (quorstmdam occu/ torwm). Punishrnenrs secretly ear ned (ocm/ti meritt). For Augustine, unlike for Paul1 God's hardening of Israel was punitive, not strategic; abiding, not temporary. History was nor rushing to a conclusion. The unbelief of the jews \vas not a momentary anomaly1 useful co the gentile mission chough in icself hard ro explain. To che lace Roman bishop, the jews' unbelief was a standing condition, an obduratio, a hardening long ago foresee n. The only explanation for chis scare of affai rs that honored God's mora] character was ro hold that the jews must have sinned in some way that scripture had not recorded, thus in some way that even the most careful reader co uld not know. But in what way? God knows, answers Augustine. On!)• God knows. A few years earlier, when co ming co the end of To Simpliciamu, Au· gustine had pondered "the hardening of rhe ungodly," rhe way char God justly decides co leave sinners to rheir sins. And yet, mercifully bm mysteriously, God sometimes chooses co give to some of chese sinners rhe gift of his grace. Ac this poim, Augustine had again recalled Pau l's rebuff to the person who might protest that GodJ in choosing some, was unfai r co all. When considering che obscu rity of God's judgments, Auguscine urged, one should always hear Paul's challenge in Romans 9:1o-"\Vho are you, 0 man, to answer back to God?"-like a "recur ring refrain." '1fGod•s punishment of the ungodly were not just, then his decision to spare a sinner could noc be considered a gift. But his 4

4

Tbr Mdrk of Cain · 285

punishment is just. God is not un righteous wh en he pun ishes." Eveq'o ne is sinful. No one is righteous. God would have been perfect!)' just if he had turned h is back o n everyone after Adam. Bu t instead-graciously; inexplicably-God caJJs some sinners to sa]vation. \Vhen and where God does decide to show mercy, then, Augustine concluded, the o nly appropriate response is ro praise God, not ro question h im (To

Simplicianus 1.2,18). It was on rhis po int rhac Augustine had rurned co co nsider God's selective salvation explicid)' in terms ofJen·s and Gentiles. "Us aJso he has called> nor only from rhe Jews> bur also fro m rhe Genu les" (Romans 9:24}. PauJ speaks here of rhe vessels o f mel'.:y> which God has prepared for glory. He d id nor call all of rhe Jews, bur on I)' some of rhem. Nor did he call all of rhe Gemiles>bur only some of rhem. For a single mass of sinful a nd impious human ity has come fro m Adam>ro which single lump, absent the grace of God, bod> Jews and Genriles belong. If rhe porrer our of rhis single lum:p of cia}' makes one vessel for honor, ano[he1· for dishonor> chen i[ is d ear chat God> too, has made fro m th e Jews some vessels for honor a nd some for dishonor; and he has done th e same from [he Gentiles. (c follows) rhen, ch ar all humanit)' muse be understood as coming fi'Om chis single lump. 1'0 St.lJI'J.JCIAXUS 1.2 ,19

This resolution to the mystery of salvation> presented with such urgent co nvictio n in To SimpUcianus, backlights Augustine's consideration of the sa me t hemes when he argues against Faustus. Ro mans 9:21> the potter's day, makes no formal appearance; but the figure of Adam> rhe anguish of rhe sin ner's divided will, and the solution proffered by the massa damnata recur throughout this treatise. So coo does Augustine•s insistence that a mong the redeemed some jews will number, since "many Jews, parr of fleshly Israel, have believed in Chrisr, and n1any of them will, in the furure, come to believe in Christ" {Against Fasutns 22.89}. The jews as a people> however>by divine will, would continue m exist un til the end of time ( t2.J2). \Xihat happens to rh em rh en? In this treatise Augustine does not

286 ·

.\UGUSTII'li ANO Ti l E J EWS

say. The one instance here where h e quotes Romans n :26, "All Israel shaH be saved," he lets Paul's statement pass with out commem (Against Faustus 10.2). Elsewhere, when citing Paul, he conjures the po ts made from this "single lu mp:· Paul1s "vessels of mere( (Ro mans 9:2326}. Augusd ne here varies the defin ition o f the term Israel. Son1etimes Israel refers to '' fles hly" Israel) he says~ ar other times, to "true,. Israel, rhe community of the redeemed, constituted both from flesh!}' lsraeJ and from those Gentiles who, as t he seed of Abraham, are also heir to the promises of salvation (Agaimt FaiiSt"s 22.89; Galatians 3'29). Whoever believes rig hd)', however, wh ether jew o r Gentile, whether now o r eventually, is enabled to do so o nly by rhe mercy o f God. Defending rhe O ld Testarnent against Faustus' argu ments, Augustine's appeal to divine inscrutability an d to human ity's secret sins provided h im as well with a way co make moral sense o ut of difficul t biblical passages. Why, when David o rdered a census of his nation, did God reprimand h is pride by "lessening the n umber that he could boast of"- in other words, by killing sevenry thousand oth er people in order to teach a lesson to the king? God in h is occulto iudicio) h is "'secret judgmen t/' explained Augusd ne, had determined chat these par ricular sevenry thousand did not deserve ro live (Against R1ustus 22.66; 2 Samuel 24). \li'hy d id God fo rgive David bur withhold forgiveness from Sa ul, when both had acknowledged ch eir respective sins with exactly the same words, in exactly rhe same way? "'The words sounded rhe same to human ears; the divine eye saw a d ifTerence In rheir hearts" (Ag.1it1st FmtsUts 22.67; 1Samuel 15'24; 2 Samuel 12:13). When virtually the who le people sinned in the desert with che Golden Calf, why did Moses spa re most, but cut three thousand down? Because God, "'in h is deep and hidden judgment" (alta et secreto iudicio) had decided that ch ose particular Israelites merited immed iate punishment (Against FausUts 22-79; Exodus 32:27- 28). Such events stand in scripture, Augustine tirelessly repeats, as figurae ('"examples"} to give Christians oppor runity to absorb both t he lesson and the warning. 4

4

••• tO th rash O Ut his respo nse tO Faustus' challenge. Of these, book C\\'ent:y two, with irs n inety eight

AUGUSTINE T OOK TfH RTY T I·I REE BOO K S 4

4

4

ch apters, is t he longest. It begins with o ne of Faustus' most rhetori· call)' lush and scriprurally fo rtified attacks o n t he Old Testament. These books> said the Manichee, "contain shocking calumnies against God himself" (Against Faustm 22-4). The sex lives of the patriarchs were scandalous; t hat of Israel's kings, even worse (22.j). Moses h imself shed blood in violence, as d id h is god, to a dreadful degree (22.5 and 4). Jn book twen ty-t\vo, Faustus declares himseJf, plai n and simple, the enemy o f j udaism (22.2; see p. 219 above). Augustine ret urns a barrage o f overwhelming tOrce: insults to his o pponent's ability to read and co reason (Against Faustm 22.7,22,}2); ar· gumencs d irected to a pagan straw man (22.14-19); thoughts on t he principles of just war (22}4-'75); lecrures on rhe necessarily meta pho r· ical q uality oflanguage that imputes emotio n to God (22.18,21); o bservations o n t he impo rtance of considering historicaJ context when assessing the behavior of ancient accors (22.23- 24) 79)~ and n u mberless typologies) many extremely imaginative even by the measure o f t he day. (David's lust for t he bathing Bathsheba, for example, "a heinous crime" h istorically, becomes a typological pro phecy o f Christ, "the desire of the nations, who loved th e Church when she washed herself o n the roof, t hat is, when she cleansed herself of the pollutions of the world"~ 22.87.) Amid all this pulsing verb iage, ho\1/ever, comes a surprising respi te: a brief medication on good and evil, right a nd wrong, the opacity o f personal experience, the moral opacity of God. If theological treatises were musical compositio ns, we would recognize in this passage t he same chords that had shaped Augustine's response to SimpJicianus, t he same chords chat had sounded in his long prayer to God , the 0mfossiotJs.

Human acts ofjusdce or injustice muse be volunrary. Absem chis moraJ auch ori()', neit her jusr rewards nor jusc penalties can existand no sensible person rhinks rhac. Buc a man's ignorance ot· weakness can prevent him from knowing what he oughc ro do, Ot' from dotng whar he wants co do. This condition ts t he con· sequence of che secret penal at·rangemeru:s and inscrurable judgrnems of God, ''in whom chere is no U1JUStice" (Romans 9:r4). God's fai rhfuJ woJ'd rhus rells ll5 abouc Adam's sin; and scriptu re

288 ·

AU OUS T I Nl! AND T I-t I! JEWS

n·mhfully relares rhar "in Adam all d.e," and rhar ''rhrough hun sin enrered the world, and chrough sin, deach" (Romans 5:12). How well \'le know fro m our own experience rhac, because of this punishmenc, rhe body corrupcs and croubles rhe souJ, a nd "by means of chis dwelling of clay, gready burden s t he chinking mind'' {\l'isdom of Solomon 9:15). How well we know rhac we can be delivered from God~s just senrence o nly by the grace ofhts mercy. And so, groaning, che Aposde cries ouc, "\'{!retched man rhar I am! Who will deliver me from rhiS body of dearh? The gt'ace of God rh rough Jesus Chrisc, OUI' Lord" (Romans 7:24-25). T his much we know. The reasons why God d iscribures his judg· ments and his mercy as he does, however, so that one person as like chis and t he othel' like char:, ate hidden~ bur, nevert heless, chey are juSL . . . Wit hin the judgtnenc of God and t he movements of ch e human wiiJ lies che secret reason why t he same prosperity helps o ne person, bur ruins anothea·, Ot' why advel'siry will undo one person, but strengthen someone else. What a trial is the emu·e ltfe of man upon t his eart h! (Job 7:1). . . . Bm ir a·emains true, nevercheless, char wharever good befaHs us comes to us chrough God's good favol', and whatever bad befalls us comes ro us t hrough his jusr Judgment. A GAINST FAUS.,.US 22 .78

These t ho ug hts provide the larger theological co ntext for Augus· tine's extraordinary argument, against Faustus, in defense of)uda ism, a nd fo r his even more exrrao rdinaq ' argun1enc in defense o f the jewish pra.xis o f judaism. T he pivot al texts for his arguments carne from Paul's lecrers. \X' hen reading Paul to extricace him from t he interpreta tions of the Manichees, Augustine thought with Paul's basic, jewish division of humanity: Israel and rhe nations. And like Pau l, he asserted Israel's h istoric p rerogatives, thereby echoing much of the mood and t he ma tt er o f Paul's p raises o fJsrael in Romans 9:4-5. No other na tion was like Israel. O nly Israel had received God's revelation. O nly Israel had worshiped God alone, utte rly withou t images. Onl)' Israel had safeguarded, both in word and in deed, t hose divin e mysteries that had pointed a head ro the incarnation and resurrectio n of God's son 1 and

TIN Mttrk

()f C.11n

• 289

that pointed ahead still to his redemption of humanity. By crucifying Christ, Israel had helped to bring salvation to the nations. By denying Christ> and thus by continuing in their ancesrral understanding of the Law, Israel performed rhe fulfillment o f their mm prophecies of exile, and thereby co ntinued to assist in bringing the gospel to the nations. \Vandering evel)Where, always bearing their books, "tilling the ground" of their earthly understanding of the Law: Israel, all unknowing, was the servant of the church. No less after their rejection o f Jesus than before, Israel secuiJdum camem \\~tne.ssed to God's redemptive acts in history. In this sense and fo r these reasons, Augustine could agree with PauJ's statement, though nor with his meaning: "The gifts and the call of God are irrevocable" (Ro mans 1 1:29). But when reading Paul ro understand the relatio nship between soul and body, between willing and wanting, between the individual sin ner and God, Augustine dissolves this distinction in favor of another, also derived from PauJ. j ews and Gentiles descend equally from Adam; both, back in Eden, had been equally "in Adam.'' For this reason, the biblical d ichotomy, "Jews" and .,Gentiles," gives way fo r Augustine ro another, more fundamental d ichotomy: "vessels of honor" and '"vessels of dishono r,'' the saved and rhe dam ned. As regards salvation, jews were no better and no worse off rhan was the rest ofhumaniry's massa dauuwta. Jews too were trapped in the penal condition o f ignorance and di fficulty char marked all human experience after the Fall. Jews too languished sub leg., not wanting to sin but not able, o f their own will) not co sin. \X'hether God chose to leave them there or to bring some fro m among them sub gratia, to himself, he would d o so, fo r rhem as for anyone, for inscrutable reasons, but justly.

12 •

.

SLAY THEM NOT ..

-

TIJt ]etvs u4Jo killed him, who t·efit.s.ed to believe in him and who refused to belietll? that be had to die and to rise again, suffired an even more wretched devasta.tiOJJ at the bands oftbe Romam. Utte.-ly ttprooted from their ki11gdom . .. they wet~ dispersed the tvbole rt;odd overindeed, there is 110 part of the earth where dN!)' are 110t found. 71ms b)• the evidence of tbeir own scripttJm t}}(!)' bear tvit:ness for us that we have IJOt fabricated the prop!J<>cies abottt Cbris< . .. A prophecy precise~· on thi.s point occurs in the Book of Ps.alnH1 tvbich they also read. ... ('Slay dH!m tJOt" it says, «Jest at some titne tl>e)' forget your Latv. Scatter tbem l>y )'Ottr might" ( Psalm 5.9:12). AUGUSTINE, CJ1T OF(;OD 18.46

' Wen Augustine firs< began to enunciate his thoughts on the original apostles' keeping jewish Law) he had written to Jerome) challenging the older man's views on Paul and Peter's confrontation in An· cioch (Letter 18; p. 186 above). He cook that occasion to voice, as well, his reservations abo ut j erome's g reat project, a fres h Latin translation of the Old Testamem based on Hebrew (th us, Jewish) man uscripts rather than o n the trad itional Septuagint text. The Greek texts, Augustine pointed out, enjoyed the authority of tradition, and the au· thenticating miracle o f their o rigin (Letter 28.2,2). This letter, entrusted to a colleague in the winter of 394-395, did not reach jerome. Augustine followed with a longer letter toward the end of 397 (Letter 40}. [n this second letter, as we have seen, Auguscine again raised the issues that had prompted his prior o ne: the reasons tOr Paul and Peter's falling out; the starus of PauJ•s report of their argument in

".S id)'

Th~m

Not .. . '' ·

291

Galatians 2; the necessary rruchfulness of biblical narrative, which in tu rn sup po ns the Bible's authority a nd that of the church. Augustine also defended once more h is view thar Paul and Perer, as apostles o f the risen C hrist> would have continued to live as o bservan t Jews (p. 237 above). And, finally, Augustine suggesred to Jerome thar t he larter fo rmally d isavow the erroneous opin io ns o n display in his commentary o n Galatians (40-4,7). Letter 40, unbeknown to Augustine, also wandered. Sometime in 403, still awaiting a response ro his questions, Augustine senr copies o f his two prior letters, as well as a third, new one, which was both briefer an d more urgent than rh e o thers (Letter 71.1,2). He was a nxious, yet again, about th e potential for Jerome's scholarship to undermine the a uthoritv of rhe Bible and of the church. At issue this time was not ' o ne of jerome's bib lical commentaries, but Jerome's new translation of the Bible irself. In North Africa, this new Larin O ld Testa nlent was already, an d literally, wreaking havoc. The quality of th e o lder Latin versions, based o n the Septuagint, was uneven and unlovely~ b ut by now, sanctioned b)' more than two cen t uries of use in co mmun ity worsh ip, those versions were traditional, beloved , and deeply familiar. For this reason, wh en rhe b ishop o f Oea (modern Tripo li) introduced jerome's recent rendering into his community-'s service, Augustine \vorriedly related, the congregation nearly rioted. (Ar issue, perhaps, was rhe identicy of th e vine un der which the prophet Jonah had rested-a "gourd" so the t raditional version o r an "ivy" so Jerome; Lettet"75·?,22;]onah 4=6.) Those familiar with the Greek claimed thar Jerome's new versio n was incorrect. The poor b ishop was compelled to ask local Jews to adjudicate. "Whether out o f ignorance o r malice," Auguscine continued> "rhey claimed char the Greek a nd rhe o lder Latin said what rhe Hebrew books said too."• Jero me's work on the gospels, Augustine soothingly contin ued , was tru1y wonderful, and "for it we offer God no small thanks. There is alrnost no problem in any o f the passages when we compare it with t he Greek original." Why, then, Augustine wondered, d id j erome's translation from the Hebrew d iffe r so markedly from the Septuagint? That o lder version, Augustine noted, had been th e te.'"' (Letter 71.4,6).

1 91 • AU OUSTI Nl! AN D T I-t I! J EWS

Also, he asked, why leave people in such an awkward situation? Readers could easily check Jerome's work against the Greek, but no such ease of access obtained for Hebrew manuscripts: How then could Jerome's t ranslarjon be vindicated? (71.2A). Beneath rhe courtesy, Augustine's meaning was clear: Jero me's efforts risked a pastoral crisis for rh e Latin church. "[ beg you, in t he Lord," concluded Augustine, "do not delay in a nswering all rhese questio ns" (71-4,6).' For better and fo r worse, Augustine's prayer was soon a nswered. Already irritated by the unsynchronized epistolary traffic berween t hem- shorter communications had volleyed between the rwo men before Augustine finally re·sent copies of his first t\vo, long letrers together with h is query triggered by events in Oea- jerome responded in high dudgeon and fired off a long and heated reply. Some of the sound and fury of his missive was simply h is indignadon at Augustine•s criticisms, which th e famous!)' self·regarding Jerome experienced as an at· tack. In defense of his reading of Galatians, Jerome proda.irned, h is weaponry would be Christ (fortified, however, by a solid wall of Greek patristic auth o rit ies, which he knew August ine could not read; Letter 7).1,2-Jl). Bur much of the roar ofJerome's response came from traditional adverstu Jud(Jeos rhetoric, now mobilized by jerome against Augusdne himself. Augusdne's position o n jewish Christians' having kept the Law, he darkly observed, was a heresy like that of the "Ebionices."' This gro up, " though they believed in Christ, were condemned by o ur fathers for the sole ·reason chat they mixed rh e ceremonies o f the Law with rhe gospel of Ch rist a nd professed the new reaching without giving up the old_"l Jerome went on, conjuring a similar contemporary community of jewish·Christians "found throughout all the synagogues of t he East," the heresy of the Minaei (a l.arinized form of the Hebrew mit~im1 "secta rians"'). Even th e current jewish authorities, he said, condemn them. (Jerome designates these authorities "Pharisees,'' though in r.he fifth century no Pharisees exist. His word choice, rather, reveals the degree to which th e vocabula1)' of the New Testament could rein force hosrile late Roman Ch risrian rhetoric against both Jews and heretics: Con· temporary enemies, rhus transformed, became as well the canonical

"'Sfa)' Them Not • . . " · 293

enemies o f Ch risr.) T hese jewish Minaei. also known as "'Nazareans" (a nod, obviously, ro Jesus• hometown of Nazareth}, ho ld much t he same F.tith as do orthodox gentile Christians, jerome co nti nued . They believe that jesus was rhe messiah, that he w-as also the son of God~ and that he was bo rn of t he Virgin Mary. suffe red under Pontius Pilate, a nd rose from the dead-all points o f doctri ne articu lated in t he ch u rch's own c reeds. Nor good enough, v.-arns jero me: The Nazareans~ orthodo~y is nullified by th eir continued Jewish p ractice. "Insofar as they \van t to be both jews and Christians, they are neither jews nor Ch ristians.'' Such people can never be accepted into t he ch urch, Jerome declares, an d not o nly beca use their practices, despite their belief.~, make rhem heretics. Rather, their very exa mple was dangerous~ indeed, they t hem· selves are dangero us. "If we were required to accept rh e (Ch ristjan] Jews wirh t heir legal observances, and if it becornes permissible for them to observe in t he churches o f Christ what they practiced in t he syn agogues o f Sata n-! am going to say what I t hin k-they will not become Christians, but t he)' will make us Jews!" (Lett<'1'75·4>' J). Jerome's assa ult ran on and on. He scolded Augustine fo r t he "heretical" implicatio ns o f h is views; he heroically warned against the contagions ofJewish practices. ("! shall proclaim fran kly, even if the whole world sho uts against me, that t he ceremonies of th e jews a re dangerous and dead l)' fo r Christians and that whatever Ch ristia n keeps rh em,Jew o r Gentile, has gone down inro the Devil's p id"; Letter 75-4,14.) As fo r those Jews in Oea who challenged the aptness o f jerome•s new translatio n-"your jews," as he ca lls them- clearly they ei· ther did not know Hebrew, o r else they lied: no surprise, hu ffed jero me, beca use it was well known ch at jews willingly corrupted even the He· brew text o f Scripture just to spire Ch ristians (Jj.G,l0-22) .

••• SOMEWH ER s B SNEAT H

all this overheated rheto ric bur ned Jerome's desire to bully Augustine into some version of t he a wkwa rd position t hat he himself was in. Before moving to Bethlehem from Ro n1e in t he late jSosJerome had un dertaken to produce a new La tin rranslation of t he Bible. In t he \'Vest, neither rh e New Testa ment nor the Old Testament

294 • AI!GUST I NE A~U THE J I:WS

had ever had a single authoritative Latin versio n, and a miserable mulciplicity of local traditions was the result. (Augustine himself had noted the vast number and variable qua1ity o f \X'estern translations in Cbristitm Teacbillg: "In the early days of the faith, any person who got hold of a Greek manuscript and who thought of himself as skilled in both languages went ahead with his own Latin translation"~ Cbristian Teaching 2.J J)l6.}j erome's efforts to produce a standard text began with the gospels, and this new version was received with relatively little conrroverS)'· Once he began work o n the Old Testament, however, Jero me decided co bypass the Septuagint, and instead co work up a fresh n·anslation based on the o riginal Hebrew. By this poin t, those fo rms of gentile Chriscianit)' that had laid claim to the Septuagint had a long and am bivaJent relationship \Vith its Hebrew foundatio ns. On the one hand, Hebrew, and originary jewishness, authenticated "orthodox" tradition: T he very architecnJre of the double canon) O ld and New Testam ents, declared this idea. By rhe second cenru ry, some gentile Christians reinforced the authority of the Gospel of Matthew-attributed by tradition to one of the original twelve apostles-by clai ming that it had been com· posed first in "Hebrew" for preaching to jev.·ish Christians and translated only later into Greek. From the fourth cen turyon\vard, wirh the imperial development of a Christian Holy Land in the Galilee and in what was o nce judea, legends grew abour miraculous retrievals of sacred relics: the shirt that !vtary wore while n ursing j esus> pieces o f the n·ue cross> the bones of St. Stephen. Such stories often feaw red a "wise j ew" who, combining local knowledge v.ith biblical autho ri ty, established the authenticity of the sacred object or place. (Frequently, their m issio n completed, such "Jews 1' end rhe tale by converting co the church.) Verus Israel, "true Israel•' (that is, the "true" ch urch) was su pported by the olive trunk of the writfls bebraica, Hebrew (but also Jewish) truth.< Yet gentile Christians had also long been aware of unnerving differences between the Greek and the Hebrew texts of the je\\ish scriptures.J uscin Martyr, in his Dialog11e witb Trypb<J, d iscussed at length the reading of Isaiah 7:14: p(wtbtmos o r "virgin" in the Greek t aalmab o r ")•'Oung girl" in the Hebrew. He complained to T•)'pho about '1ewish

"Sia)' Them Not . . . " ·

l9.):

teachers" who maintai ned chat rh e Greek neatliS., ''young girl," would becter capture t he meaning of the original text (1r)•pho 43; 66-67). At other poin ts, j ustin accused jews o f suppressing Christological references in the Greek biblical text by editing them o ut. (Trypho re· sponded that this "seems incredib le"; 1i)•pho 72-73. These Christian "references" had actually been edired in.} Christian interpo lations into O ld Testament texts had become notorious e nough by the late fou rth cent ury that .Manichees, publicly dispuring wich less exotic Christians, could score cheap poin ts by al lud ing to the subject. ("Shall we take an· other favo rite passage of yours: 'They shall see rheir life hanging, and shall not believe rh eir life'? You inserc the words 'on a n·ee,' which a re nor in the original"; Deuteronomy28:66~Agaimt Fttustus 16.5. Augustine does nor rebut Fa ustus on this particular point.} Finally, in the 2jOs, the great Christian scholar O rigen, then living in Caesarea on t he coast of modern-day Israel, determined to sort o ut a srable version o f the Septuagint. This p roject involved h im in research in Hebrew lan guage and in the Hebrew rexr of rhe Bible, rhus with local Jewish scholars as wel l. O rigen•s work~ in this senset paved the way for jerome ~s.s

But in terms o f temperament if not of ralent,jerome was no O rigen; and compared wirh rhc policies o f rheological dis pure in rhe third cen t ury. those of rhe !are-fourth-centu ry church 1 t han ks ro imperial patronage, were much more fraught. And even though Jerome the mon k was a rrilingual bib lical scholar- a public image rhar he vigor· o usly cultivated thro ugh steady streams of letters, commentaries, and translations of various re:-.:ts both Greek and Hebrew-he was also a fie rce co nrroversialisr, a good harer, a nd a dogged fighter. In rhe public arena o f fou rrh· ro fifrh·cenrury pa n-Mediterranean theological b rawling, h owever, he got as good as he gave. By so advertising his jewish expen ise, he had handed his enemies a powerful \veapo n. jerome•s advertisements for h imself- stories d ro pped about h is night time Heb rew tu to rials with jewish teachers, a bo ut his consultations on biblical interpreta[ion with local j e\vs, and about his ready filmiliarit)' with Hebrew names and places- could be and were used against h im. To express Christian truth, claimed h is enemies, jerome had relied mappropriately, even dangerously, on je\\~sh knowledge.6

196 ·

AI!GUST I NE A~U THE J I:WS

Augustine's lecters thus presented j erome with a golden o pportu niry ro display his own bona fides, h is p rincipled awareness as a good Christian o f the contam inating dangers of j ews and of judaism. Un· hesitatin g!)', he accused rhe younger man ofjudaizin~ just as h is e nemies had done to h im. Using the time-honored script of adtterstiS lttdatcs t radition, invoking ocher unacceptable m ixes o f jewish p ractice and Christian doctrine-the Ebionites, the Minaei, the Nazareansjerome categorized Augustine's proposaJs as heretically '"mixed'' as welL True Christianity could give no scope to th ose who were both Jew and Christian at the same time. And jerome's aJarmist, there-goes theneighbo rhood argumen t (absent sufficient hostilicy co j udaism, he warns, the next thing to happen will be Christians \vho Judaize o r) still worse, who convert to j udaism} served to caution Augustine even more vividly of the dire consequences o f thin king as he did-and thus of disagreeing with jerome (Lettet· 75-4,13-14)· Bur Augustine had already withstood chis sort o f barrage at dose ran ge o nce before. Faustus, in his C.pitula, had employed exactly the same rhetoric> drawn from the same trad ition! as did Jerome in h is epistle. They had even deployed some of th e same tropes. Musing on th e dangerous consequences of inadequately identifYing and excising covert jewish incursions into Christjan truth , Faustus had spoken of 4

4

h is own previous spirit ual endangermen t. Back when he, as a pagan, had thought of converting to Christian ity, Faustus recounted, he had initially co ntacted the wrong sort o f people, people wh o had the wro ng sores o f texts. These people may not have cho ughr of themselves as Jews, he continued, but they esteemed the Law and the prophets as Ch risrian scripture, and they uncritically adhered toquestionable gospel texts. Recalling his d ifficulties with jesus' saying in Matthew 5"7 ("Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law and rhe prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill rhem"), Faustus rold how

I, like you, from reading rhis vetse wirhour sufficient con side radon, had almost resolved to become a Jew. And rightly so, for ifChdsr came nor ro deso·oy rhe Law bur ro fulfi ll tr, and if a vessel, co be fully fiJied, muse not be em pry bur rarhet· parcial I)' 4

..Slay Tb~m Not . . • " · 297

filled ro sratc wirh, l concluded char no one ocher chan a jew could possibl)' be<:ome a Christian. Thou was rhe way ro be nearly filled with rhe Law and che prophets, so char chen coming co Chrisr would fiJI rhe person ro his capacity. . . . Ic seemed rhen rhar I) as a Gencile, couJd gee norhing by coming ro Chrisr) fo t· I bi'Oughr norhing rhar could be filled up from hiS addinons. Whar is reqUtred in order co be parrially filled? Sabbarhs, circumctsion, sacrifices, new moons1 immersions fo t• pul'iticarlon, the Feasr of Unleavened Bread, dtsritKnons of food) drtnk and clorhes, and orhet' rhings coo nurnel'ous ro specify. .. . With Christ, as rhe Son of God, seeming ro say char he had come nor co destroy rhese dlings bur co fulfill rhem) what was co prevenr me from becorning a jew?

This is Faustus' version o f the there-goes·the·neighborhood argu· ment) used with such flourish by jerome. And ch eir d ire warning shared che same souHexte) Faust us with o rthodox North African Christians in view, Jerome thinking mainly of Augustine: j ust because rhe audience fo r th is cautionary tale did not know that they or he had slid d own t he slip pery slope o f heretical Judaizing d id not mean t hat such was nor, in face, t he case. The worrying example of other wayward faux-Christian co mmw1itie5;, such as rhe near·proverbial Naz.areans, lay ready to hand. (Faustus, like Jerome, a lso invokes t hem, and to t he same e nd. "Such people practice circumcision, rhey keep the Sa bbath, they shun swine•s mear a nd other chings like t hat) aiJ accord ing to rhe Law. An d yet t hey sr:ill claim to be Christians! "; Against Faustm '9·J). Final!)', both rhe Manichee and the monk lamented loudly that such Judaizing, even if un-self·aware) polluced the sacred memory o f t hose foundat ional figures holy to the true church. " Beware of making Jesus in to a liar, a nd o f making yourself into a jew, b}' obligating yourself to ful fill the Law just because Ch risr d id nor destroy it!" (Ag.1inst Faustm '9·J). " How we.ll you succeed in defending Paul! He did not pretend to hold t he Jews' error; he actually did hold ir. . .. What an original sense o f mercy the Aposde demonstraces! W'hile he wanted to rurnjews into Christ ians, he made himself inco a jew. .. . How pathetic, how de·

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.\UGUSTII'li ANO T i l E J EWS

plora ble are those who, on accoun t of th eir own bell igerence and rheir love for t he abolished Law, make a Jew o ut o f t he Apostle o f Ch rist!" (Lette~· 75417).

• •• tOjerome•s b ullying in Letter 82 (c. 405). Jt is a miniarure masterpiece of careful an d creative bib lical incerp retation combined with moral exhortation and quiet au thority-a striking co n· trast to jerome's preceding scholar-as-diva performance. In this letter, Augustine repears, wit h clarity and conviction, man)' of the important points made earlier and less e legantly in h is commentary o n Galatia ns, in his t reatise About LJ•ing, and in his baggy, p rolix rejoinder co Fau· stus. He begins from a position of experience, warning Jero me of the dangers o f impu ting the "useful lie" to Paul, Peter, and the scene described in Gala tians: AUGUSTINE R ESI)ONDED

The Man ich ees claim, n·hen rhey cannot 1.w isr t he lucid reachings of ch e hoi}' scriprures ro some orhe1· meaning, rhac vet)' rnany passages in rhese same scriptures muse be f.1.lse. . . . And yet even chey do nor acrribuce chis falsity to the aposdes who WI'OH• rhem [as jerome's reading did), bur rarher ro persons unknown who Iacer cort·upred ch e manuscripts . . . . Does not your holy wisdom undersrand how great an opportunity would lie open co rh eil· malice were we ro say rha t th e aposrles'let ters had been falstfled not by ochers, bur by themselves? J.E1TtiR 82.2,6

And t hen, with appeals to t he Law and the pro phets, referring to t he gospels, Paul's letters, a nd Act.~, Augustine calmly rehea rses o nce more the assertions that had given jerome his excuse for accusing Au· gustine o f Judaizing. Unf.1.zed, training his sights on t he incident a t Antioch , Augustine repeats Paul's avowal: "As for what I am writing to you, look, before God, I do not lie!" (Galatians 1:20; Letter 82.2,7). Paul had always and everywhere vigoro usly denied that Gentiles should observe t he Law like the Jews, said Augustine; but scriprure a bounds wit h instances where Pa ul h imself, as a j ew who was a Chris-

"'Sftt)' Tlum Not •. . " · 299

tian, kept t he Law. "When Pau l circu mcised Timothy, o r fulfilled h is Nazirite vow at Cenchreae, or when he . .. u ndertook the celebrat io ns o f t hose rites [at the Temple], .. . he did this so that he would not be t hought co condemn, like the Gentiles· idolatry, those rites that God had commanded in earlier times, fittingly, ro foreshadow things to come" (Acts 16'3, J8:J8, 2J:26; Letre>· 82.2,8). Those Chr istians of Judea who were zealous fo r the Law had accused Paul of preaching against it to d iaspora jews~ but t hat accusation was false, a nd Paul's sacrificing in the Temple proved it so. "At that timeJ the lChristianJ jews were not to be kept from rh ose rites as if they were wicked, a nd the Gentiles were nor to be forced ro those r ires as if they were necessary" (Li.'tter 82.2,9). (After all, he notes shortly later, " it was God who commanded people to p ractice circumcision, bur Saran who convinced them to worship idols," 82.2,12.) Final ly, harking back to h is argument t hat h is· torica} a nd social conrext had to be considered when inter preting the Bible, Augustine observes thar the co mmands of the Law should not be regarded as something bad just because t hey cannot make people good, a t ransforma tion t hat o nly God's grace through C hrist can do. "They are not bad, because rhey were commanded by God as appro pria te co rh ose rimes a nd persons" (82.2,l4). That ''appropriate rime" included, emphatically, "the time of rhe presence of the Lord in che Aesh, and d u ring t he apostolic generation"' (82.2,t5). Augustine courteously t hanks Jerome for his concern in cautioning h im against the ideas of'•the heretics who, while they wan ted robe both Jews and Chr isriansl ·were neither Jews nor Christians"-rhe much maligned, much-invoked Ebionires and Nazareans. "You were so kind to warn me," he deadpans) «with t he greatest good will to avoid their o pinion, rhough in fact J had never thought to do othenvise'' (Letter 82.2>15). Bu t rhatcase has no bearing ac all, he insist.~, on the sincerit)' of Paul's Jewish p ractice. O r was Jerorne saying rhat Paul a nd aJI the other observant Jewish Christians of his generation were righr to keep rhe Law, bur only if th ey did so as a pretense? Jf so, continues Augustine, then "we a re slipping not in to rhe heresy o f Ebion o r of those commonly called Nazareans, bur imo some new heresy that is even mo re destructive, since it arises not fi·om error, but from an aim and a desire to deceive" (82.1.>16). (Besides, he adds, a person motivated to

JOO ·

AU
,'\NO TH l! J EWS

ca ke o n Jewish p ractices chiefly by a love of deceic would have co be crazy: imm1ire.) He closes this part of his response to Jerome by sum moning a powerful Roman image of p iecy, d ignicy, and filial affeccion: che respecc due co che body of a deceased pare m. Once t he fa.i th chat had been announced by these obsetvances

and fulfilled by che death and resumccion of che Lord had finally come.\ ir was as if rh e vicaliry drained our of their celebration. An d )~t, like the bodies of the deceased. t hey had to be bom e co rhw

burial, nor with feigned respecr bur \\lith genuine pie£}', neither abandoned immediately nor cast off to the abuse of cheit t>nernies

as if to a dog's fangs.

This image of burial implied closure, however, as well as affection and respect Now, however> if any Chrisrian-even if he is a jew-wishes to celebrate th ese observances once again, char would be like disturbing ashes already ar l'esc: nor like once again piously accompanying rhe bod)' ro irs rescing place, bm rath er like \l.:ickedly violadng its comb.

So no. Augustine says, a jew who converts to Christianity now, or an)' Gentile who is a Ch ristian, is not at liberty to reengage these o ld sacrametJta.; and he refers jerome to his earlier writing AlfliiJSt Faustus where, he says, he had already opined as much (Letter 82.2,17; Agai11st Faustus 19.17). And, Augustine continues, "I absolutely agree with your statement that any Christian who observes chese, be he from the jews or from the Gendles, whether deceitfu1ly o r sincerely, has plunged in to the Devil's p ir" (Lettn· 82.2,18). Yet he immed iately t urns back to t he pe· riod o f rhe gospels (could he be need ling Jerome?) and insists on the sincere piety of j esus' own Jewish observance. j esus himself had been circumcised-nor as a pretense (follaciter) by his parents or because he was then too young ro defend himself. He sent the cured leper to the priest "as Moses commanded.'' He worshiped in the Temple on the

"Slay Thrm No t . . . " ·

JO I

great Jewish feas t days. Jesus, like Paul and like Peter a nd like James and like all of h is o ther a posrles, had lived his life as a p ious and Lawo bservam Jew (82.2,19). As he begins to wind down h is response, Augustine tu rns yet o nce again to the figh t between Perer and Paul in Antioch a nd co Paul's ac· count of it in Galatians 2. Asserti ng o nce again that Paul acted deceit· fully neit her during chis argument nor in his later account of it, Augustine considers the figure of Peter. Back in 394-395> when writing his own commenta ry o n Gala tians, Auguscine had praised Perer's ex· emplary h umility in sustain ing co rrection from a junior colleague in pub lic-the harder role by far, Augustine noted at t h e time, than to be the o ne correcting a co lleague in public (On Galatiam 2.ll)lj) . Now, ten years later>Augustine dwells o n Peter's h umility an d the value of his example, '"for he offered to those who would co me after him a rarer an d h olier model of behavio r than did Pa ul. For Peter offered them an example char they should not decline to receive correction even from younger men .... Thus in Pau l we p raise righreous freedom and in Pe· ter) hoi)' h umility" (L ..tter 82.2,21). jeronH.>, Augustine's senior, was a careful reader of texts. \Ve ca n assume th at he caught Augustine's drift. Augustine takes another ten chapters to fin ish th is communica· cion. He is stud iously cou rteous, occasionaUy tongue·in·cheek. He admiringly nores all of the Greek a ut hori ties-('six o r seven, as I re· call"-whom Jerome had cited, admit ting fran kly that he had read none of them~ th ough he does mention>in passing, that Jerome had also, elsewhere1 c riticized o r denounced fo ur of t hese-"induding O ri· gen, whom you had earlier praised most marvelously''-so that of ch is group o nly three remained standing (Utter 82.J,lJ). Augustine con tin· ues by admitting that his interpretacion of Galatians, th us his views o n jewish law, a re his own. But he is nor alone: ('The apostle Paul comes to my rescue." Citations to innumerable aurhoriries. he implies (is he needling Jerome again?), mean less than does being loyal to canonical scriptu res) to being certain char none was wri[ten to deceive) and, o f course, to having Pau l on one•s side (81.),24). Ca n Augustine and j erome be frie nds? Augustine p urs r.he ques· cion, asking whether t ruly Christian fr iendships can occur in a context

J02 • A U
1

where the witticism of the pagan a ut hor Terence-' ' Fianeq' begets frie nds, but truth gives b irt h ro hatred' obtains n1ore than does the saying of th e church, '\Vound s from a friend are more n ustworrhy chan are rhe willing kisses of an e nemy'" (Proverbs 27:6; Letter 82.J,jl). He apologizes for the way t hat his earlier letter had wandered in Ro me, creating such a stir that jerome t hought t hat Augustine had written and circulated a book attacking him. He promises to do better, and begs t hat jerome will always correct him when he needs to be cor rected. A passing acknowledgment of th e diffe rences in t heir ecclesia.srical rank ("to be a bishop"-Augusrine's office-"is greater than being a priest") gives way to a sooth ing co urtesy ("Augustine is still less t han Jerome in many ways,.,) and to one last refe rence to t he "correct"' interpretation of the incident at An tioch and t he relevance of Peter's 4

example for Jerome ("although, one should not reject o r disdain cor rection, even from someone inferior")) and th en, fi nally, Augustine is d one (82.4,33). Well, almost. Those conspiratorial Jews whom Jerome had mentioned, the o nes who coverdy aJcer b iblical texts whether Hebrew o r Greek to spite jerome: ''\Vould you be so good as to point out what jews ever did th is?" (82.),34; Jerome had co mplained in Letter 7).6,20-2 1). 4

• •• we h ave begun to m ove out o nro different te r rain in terms of our evidence for recrieving what Augustine writes a bout jews a nd Judaism. First, beginn ing shortly after th e turn o f the centu ry> we lose the Manichees as a p rime focus of Augustine's attention. Perhaps he no longer felt t hem to be a serious challenge to the North African ch u rch; perhaps, if they ever had been such a t hreat (d oubtful, 1 think), rhey no longer were. O r perhaps Augustine decided that by now he had argued and writ ten enough to establish his own bona fides as an e.x /\·1anichee. \Vit h t his diminution, however, his remarks on j ews a nd Judaism, both positive and negative, scatter in to different rhetorical and t heological contexts, a nd rhus they often do different du ty. Second, the o ld accepted chronology of Augustine's letters and sermons, beca use of spectacular finds of previous!}' un known manuWITH T I'IESE LETTERS,

4

4

"Sia)' Them Not . .. " · JOJ

scripts in the last decades of the twen tieth century> has been strained to bursting. The entire enormous project o f going over all of this corpus, and of in tegrating it with a chronology for his treatises, must begin again. \X'ith Augustine's major writings> the siruarion is not nearl),. so severe. Thanks to che Retractatiom (the catalogue of his own works that Augustine composed toward the end of his life), a nd t han ks to the meshing of various sores of references internal to his works together with well-kno\vn external dates, the gross chronology of those works-or, at the very lease, their sequence-is fai rly secure. \Vith his letters and his sermons, however-writings of his not included in the Retracta.tiom-we lose rhis sentr icy. Another reason for some of the uncertainty o n dates and sequence is rhe scope and size of ehe major writing projects thae Augustine> after Agaimt FaustusJ begins to underrake. Acco rd ing to ehe o lder chro nology (we do not have a newer one), Augustine started his imporcanr work on the Trinity in 399; he finishes sometime in 419. His Literal Commentmy on Genesis, begun in 401, is nor completed uncil414. The sermons on the Gospel ofJohn1 which we' ll co nsider shortly, take the decade bet\veen 407 and 417, according to some scholars; others prefer 4 lhJ20. The Sermom 011 tire Psalms (al l o ne h undred a nd fifty o f t hem) also range across years, from 392 to 4 18. City of God, finally, gets under way ehree years after the "fall.. o f the cit)' of Rome in 4 10; Augustine concludes it in 426. In short, his big projects occupy zones o f time. The)' lack precise dates of co mposition.11 Shorter treatises also a ppear regularly all throughou t these years, and Augustine produces an astonishing scream of letters and other sermons as well. Where we have chronological scaffoldi ng provided by the /{etractatiom., o r where we can find an echo fro m a datable wo rk o f a particular set of themes or associaeio ns in another, undated one, we can still have a reasonably good sense o f where we are. Bu r in pursuit of our speci6c ropic, we will have to consider works whose period o f compositio n is very uncertain. Augustine's sermon Agaimt tbeje:u;s, for e.xample, nor mentioned in the Reh'actilriom., has been assigned vario usly co 418-419, to 425> and co 429. Another relevant wri ting that probably began life as a sermon, Faitb in Things Um•en, used to be dated early (c. 400); currently, it is dated late (420-425). And in one madden-

J04 • AUGUST I NE AN"D T HE J I:WS

ing incident of near-synchrony, a let ter to Augustine from a n episcopal colleague in ltaly, Paulin us, coincides approximately wirh the date when Augustine would have co mposed h is two sermons on Psalm 59-~ In those t\VO homilies, Augustine referred a line specificall)' to the Jewish people. "Slay them not, lest my people forget. Scatter t hem in your m ig ht" (Psalm 59:1 1). This q uotation from Psalm 59, understood as directed to co ntempo rary jews) will eventually beco me the signarure statement of Augustine's so-called wimess doctrine. Bur was this usage o riginal to him? Paulin us had also "ch oughc with jews" when reading this ps.alm1 framing his ideas with questions gleaned from Pau l's letter to the Ro mans. Jn Letter llJ (currendy dared between 4 10 and 415) he wrote to Augustine wit h questions abouc h is interpretation of these cexts. \X'as Paulinus the one who, in h is letter co Augustinet firs[ drew [his connectio n be[ween PsaJm 59:11 and t he jews? And th us was Pau li nus the o ne who ti rsc suggested [his reading to Augustine? Or d id Augustine, composing his sermon o n th is psalm sometime in the same period, co me co t his idea independendy, so that when he received Pa ulinus' quescions1 he already had h is a nS\1/ers {Letter l49, writte n perhaps late in 416)? We will look more closely at t heir correspondence sho rtly. This use o f Psalrns9:12, in ei ther case, reprises the san1e cluster of themes chat Augustine in Agaimt Faustus had attached co che figure of Cain. Augustine's exposition of t his line from Psalms, like his exposition of the figure of Cain in Genesis 4, combines th e ideas of punitive wandering and of d ivine protection, both fo r t he benefit of the chu rch, 1nediated in some fash ion on account of an d by the jewish understa nding o f the Law. Before conti nuing our p ursuit of Augustine•s positive usage of chese ideas ofJews and Judaism, however. we should consider also his very diffe rent statements about jews> made as he gave sermons on a d iffe rent b iblical text, the Gospel o f Jo hn. Jo hn's gospel> t he bane of modern in terf.1.ich dialogue, co ntains some of the harshcsr language about jesus' jewish contempo ra ries of a n)' writing in t he New Testament. Most of these statements come out of t he mouth of its rnain character. John structures his story around hig h-co nn·ast po larities: ligh t/ darkness, above/ below, God/Saran, spirit/flesh, sight/blindness, knowledge/ ignorance. Jesus and his fol-

"Sia)' Thott Ndt . . . " · 305

lowers belo ng to and embody the positive cluster. "The jews" thro ugho ut John's story are their oppo nents. John's jesus tells them forthrighdyJ ''You are from below) I am from above. You are of this world, I am not of this world" (John 8:2j). Jo hn's jesus represents the o nly way to know God the Father; since the Jews do not know who he is, they clearly do nor know the Farher either, rhough they insisr t hat they do ("We have o ne fa ther, God h imself "; Jo hn Sop ). They o ppose jesus and try to kill him (John 7:1, 7:19, tO:jt, 11:53). They a re not "of God "; far from ir. As jesus tells them, "You a re of your father the devil" (John 8:44). And even chough the Romans must, in the end, make some ap-

pearance in and around the crucifixionJ they are not the villains o f the piece. As John's jesus consoles Pilate, who resists proceeding with the e:"<ecution, he tells him that "the one who handed me over to you""thar is, the j ewish high priesr-"is guilty o f the grearer sin" (John 19:H). Augustine takes this gospel's h ighly hostile representarion ofJews and, in the course of creating his sermons, usuaJiy makes it wo rse. One schola1~ analyzing this material in a recent dose srudy, has noced that 60 of the 124 sermons co ntain «appreciable anti-jewish material, and between fifteen and seventeen are extensively or corn pletely taken up \\~th it.'' The tone and tenor of}ohn's gospel obviously make their own contr ibution. But much of Augustine's hostile characterization) so readily obliged by this particular gospel, co nt rasts sharply wit h p rominent features of his own earlier work. Here he repeats many of the standard n·o pes of conb~ Iudaeos invective, even if those speak agajnst the arguments chat we have watched him develo p so arduously elsewhere. For exam ple. when arguing with Manichees, Augustine had u nderstood jewish blood sacrifices as God's prime teach ing device to prophesy his incarnate Son. \X'hen presenting his sermons on John•s gospel1 jewish sacrifices become the same o ld same o ld: "You know that the sacrifices \vere given ro that people because they \vere so Aeshly) their hearts so stony1 in order to keep them from faJling into ido lat ry" (Sermons on the Gospd ofjobn 10-4): This line could have come (and in a sense, had come) from Terrullian 's Af1Si11St Marcion. Carnal people) carnal promises, srony hearts. an ever-present proclivity toward ido l wo rship: Augusd ne's jo hannine jews seem a different tribe from the o ne encountered in Against FaustJts.'0

JOG •

AUGUST I NE! AND THE JEWS

As we have seen him do in earlier writings, so here: Augustine easily segues from the "scriptural Jews" of the passage that he explicares to concemporary "rhetorical j e\\•s/' modern instantiarions of the various vices and sins that he sees in, or reads into, the gospel stor)'· From time to cime-a standard mow in ancient rhetoric- he addresses these Jews direcrly. ('1s the living temple of God to be laid low by your blows?" iSennom on jo/m 934]; " Have you become so hardened, false Israelites?" l114-40j.) Sometimes we can catch a glimpse of his actual fifrh-centu ry Jewish neighbors, passing rheir Sabbaths by dancing o n their baJconies, when he criticizes the Jews' "fleshly:· unspiritual day of rest. ("God forb id ... that we call rhat kind of thing 'observing the Sabbath'!'' Sermom on jolm J. l9. W/e'll return to dancing Jews in a moment.) Often where the biblical text has " Pharisees'' or ''priests/' Augustine is happy to substitute "Jews.'' When he is not itemizing Jewish sinfulness ("malice," "evil/' "perversity/' "hatefulness"), he larnents jewish spire~ envy, and arrogance. jesus' death, for Augusrine as for John's gospel, occurs less through the specific agency of Jerusalem's p riests or leaders than through t he generalized agency of "rhe Jewish peo ple." And in twenty-t hree of the p laces where he thus inculpates the whole people, the gospel text that he co mments on has no connection to jesus' death at all.

Some of the themes from Augustine's more "positive" theo logy of j udaism do make their appearance in these homilies, but the),. are the somber o nes. The scaccering of the je\vs post-?0 c.E., for example, here as in patr istic commentary generally, is the punishment for their role in jesus' death. But Augustine adds to this idea his signature positive gloss: ?v1ore chan merely punitive) the je\vs' exile is also providential, because everywhere that j ews go, they bring their books with them. Thus, and despite their hostility, they serve every,-vhere to authenticate Christian dainu, because their exile, the penalty for the crime of killing Christ, was forerold by rheir own pro phers (e.g., Sermons 011 jo/m 35.7). Augustine also repears his solution to the mystery of salvation: jews do not believe because jews do not want to believe. But he also 1naint.ains that jews do not believe because they cannot believe: God has b linded them. O n what basis? And how fairly? "God blinds and he hardens by abandoning, by not helping. He does t his ocCttlto iustitio, by

"'Sitt)' Tlum Not .. . " · JC/i

a hidden judgment.'' O nce again, Augustine's God is bo th merciful and just, bu t never at the same tinle to the same individual In h u man experience) God is either merci ful or he is just. "There cannot be injus· tice with God. Thus, when he helps) he acts mercifully; and when he docs not help, he acts jusdy" (jJ.6). \XIhat sense can we make of these d iffe rences between th e Augus· tine of Sermons on john and the Augustine of Against Fattstm.? Their co n· trast gives us, fi rst of aJJ, some measure o f the force and the flexi bility o f Augustine's rhetoric a nd some ap preciation fo r the way that differ· ent contexts and d iffe rent audiences affect both what he says and how he says it. Against Faustus, Augustine defends catholic canon and dogma-the Christian relevance of rhe jewish scriptures, th e work o f red emption achieved by the incarnate Ch rist. Before h is own congre· gationst he exploits rhe stark com rases of t he fo urth gospel as one o f the ways to commun icate the doctrinal principles rhat he sees in John: Christ's d ivinity and h is humility; the absolute d iffe rence between right and wro ng u nderstandings o f the Law and thus o f g race ("the jews" o f co urse represent rhe wro ng understanding)~ t he sharp dis· tincrions between carnal and spirit ual, between the synagogue and the chu rch. His rheto ric, in both instances, illumines fo r LIS not Augus· tine's "feelings" about or dealings with real jewsf but his construction and use of various kinds of"Jews" in service to whatever teaching that, at a given mon1em, he wan ts to drive home.

••• o n the rhetorical qualiry of these ''Jews" in Augustine's works is not to say chat real Jews were n or a norma] pare of the North African landscape. Jews had lived in North Africa for cent ur ies, and Ca rthage probably held t he largest Jewish settlement outside of Rome in the \'\.'estern Diaspora. Nor is it w say, because Augustine uses "rhetorical Jews," that Augustine had lim ited contacts with actual jews. Except fo r th e accident of a single letter, recendy discoveredt we have no evidence of co ntacts, a nd we also have no evidence fo r lack o f contacts. \\.'hac \\'e do have is no clear evidence. Did Augustine deal fre· T O INSIST

quendy with actual Jews? lnfrequendy? Almost never? Not at all? Absent evidence, how can we know?

J08 • ,\UG UST I NE AS D THE JllWS

Th ree questio ns need to be considered before attempting any reconsrruction of Augustine's personal interactions with his jewish contemporaries. First, where are these Jews? Second, what in Augustine's works provides us with any information about these j ews? Third, where and how would Augustine most likely have encountered rhese Jews? Auguscine in h is srudent years had lived in Carthage (something t hat he will co ntinue to do, irregularly, as b ishop o f Hip po), and later

in lraly: in Rome, in ~.
tion? As usual with ancient demography, numbers elude u.s. There is no way to know, in parr because there is no way to be secu re in the in· rerpretation of inscriptions, grave finds, and other such material evidence. Also, given a gentile Christian po pulatio n as steeped in biblical culture as North Africa•.s was, clar ity o n the ethnic/ religious provenance of an arri fact- Latin-speakingjews? Genrile j udaizers? Regular church-going Genriles?-can be d ifficult ro co me by. (Absent familiar-

ity with the cult ure of the seventeenth-cent ury .tvlassach usetcs Ba~· Colony, an archaeologist from some d istant future, armed o nly wich her own knowledge o f the Bib le, mighr conjectu re from all the Heph z ibah s and Calebs and Abigails a nd Ezras o n colonial g rave markers t hat New Engla nd had been settled by English-speaking diaspora Jews.)"

jervs, }etvisb, judaism, s:ynagogue, Israel; These \vords and their cognates ap pear countless times in Augustine's writings, as in the writings o f most patristic aur.hors. Given the historical d evelopment of orrhodox Christian idendty, this is not surprising. (And very freq uently- though not always-these writers• Jews are "Jews in the head:') Sometimes Augustine mentions something o nly inciden tally that might, perhaps, attest ro proximity and o bservation. ln Against

''SI.t)' Tl,tm Not .. . " · 309

Faststus, he notes that Jews neither cook on t he Sabbat h nor pick fruit from a field o n t hat day. Ta un ting Faustus in this same passage, he suggests, "It would be good if you would rest at home-and not just o ne day a week, like rhe Jews, bur every day" (Against Fattstm 6.4). He mentions as common knowledge t hatje\vs chant psalms in daily worship (On Psalms 148.17: The hymns of Christians a re berter). Jews celeb rate Su kkot for a week, he remarks elsewhere, for which t hey build booths (Smnoll IJJ.l). Jewish men spend Shabbat in t he theater (On Psalms 50.1), while the women dance o n their balconies. (This dancing he fo und very irritating, and he co mplains a bout it in a number of sermons and writings: Sermon 9·3t3; On P$alms 32.2,l,6; 9 l.2.) jews b utcher a lamb fo r Passover: O nce, Augustine had though t of t his practice as offering a "sacrifice.n Later, he corrects h imself and rightly identifies the practice as simply part of th e p reparatio n fo r the commemorative Passover meal (Gt>nesis agflinst tbi> Man-icbees J.2JAO; RetrtJctnt:Ums. 1.9,2). Jews can serve as positive moral exemplars as well as negative ones, and t hey sometimes d o d ouble-d u ty wit hin the same sermon. Augustin e b rings up jewish be havior to a listening congregation in o rder to upbraid t hem, a not-even-the-jews-do-t his technique. Not even t he Jews or the laborers attended an imperially sponsored t hearer festival in the town ofSimittu) so the men o f Bulla Regia should stop availing themselves of accorsJ prostit utes) and t heatrical entertainments. (Confusi ngly, he rhen cites Carthage as a place of dubious morality, precisely because ir is full of Jews; Sermo Denis 17.7·9; quored o n p. 79 a bove.) Nor even rhe jews exchange small gifrs of money on the (pa· gan) january New Yea'" Neither should his C hrisrians (Sermoll 196.4}. \Vhether these Jews are actual o r exemplary (thus Jews o r "Jews'') is hard co ce-ll. Augustine seems aware thac not all jews are commitced to the same level of religious observance, and he mentio ns t his to his congregation when speaking o n t he parable of rhe prodigal son (Ser· mon u2A.13): This o bservation may attest to actual t3 miliariry. And, finaUy, jews-real ones, we muse assume- can serve as consultants, to h elp Chr istians co better understand the mean ing of Hebrew words) wherher in rhe Old Testament (as at Oea) or in rhe New (as fo r rhe transliterated rasha, ''wicked man," o f Matt hew 5:22~ 71}(! LordS Set"nlOIJ

on the Mount 1.9,23). Je\\'5 1 we can safely assu me) really did live in Augustine's neighbor-

JIO · AllGUSTII'-t! ANO TUI! J l!WS

hoods. He pointed to them; he described them; he expected his audi· ence to know whom he meant. But where might he have acrually interacted \\~th Jews? In three placcs1 primarily. First1 there were the public municipal spaces (baths, fo rum, theater, circus, schools, mar ker, and so o n). How much rime would Augustine the bisho p have spent in such places? Probably nor much. Augustine the student in Carthage and, later, Augustine the professor of rhetoric (both in Carthage and later in Milan), probably much more. Afcer Monnica dies, he mentio ns specifically going to rhe baths at Ostia (Confessions 9.l2,p). Later, back in Africa, inrer Christian contests that he parrici pared in, whether against Manichees o r against Donacists, rook place in the baths, which offered some of the largest enclosed spaces in any Roman cit)( Did Augustine encounter Jews in these public spaces? He makes no mention. Given patterns of urban living in Ro man late anriquiry1we rnust infer that he most probably did, because it would be incredible if he did not. And given his silence on the subject, we can also infer thac such encounters as he did have in rhese venues \Vere in co nsequential. ·n1e second place where Augustine might have encountered and interacted with Jewish contempo raries was in Christian basilicas. \Ve know from varied evidence-some of it, the remarks of irritated churchmen- that j ews (and heretics and pagans) might choose to listen ro a sermon. And canon 84 from the Fourth Council of Carthage, in 436, fo rbade bishops to debar these outsiders from services (see p. 399, n. 24, below). If we look to Augustine•s sermons, do they evince rhe presence of Jews? Yes and no. He will "address'' Jews in his sermons, but this is a common rhetorical device to infuse d rama into presentatio n. \X'e cannot infer from his rhetoric chat real Jews were in the room. Speaking ar length about the idemity of the "true Israel'• against the Jewish claim, Augustine says to his congregation, "It may be well to address them, briefly, as if they were present"~ and from that point on he nar rates a disputation between "the Jews'' and himself (Srrnum against tbr jews 7.9). \Xlhat Augustine says about Jews is his sermons can range from mildly positive (especially when he complains to his congregation about how badly catholics are acting) to hardly inviting to down4

4

4

4

4

"'Slay T!Jem Nos . •• " · 311

right insulting. •·open your eyes,je\\:s! The sun is shin ing over here"thar is, in rhe ch urch, though the Jews are lost in shadows (Sermon IJG.j). Augustine will also exhort h is cong regation to "look at" or to "hear" Jews~ wheth er contemporary o nes or biblical/textual o nes: an· other d ramatizing device. " Look ac the masses ofJews right now! See how that narion is uprooted, scat tered thro ughout the whole wo rld. Look at the (o live tree's] bra nches, broken and cut away" (Sermons on john 16.J). "See how the jews wish co kill him !" (Sermom on jo/m 51.8). This sort of rhetorical address in a sermon cannot with a ny security present us with (so to speak) the jew in the pew. A glance ar the subject index under )etv or }std.aism in any volu me of Augusti ne's sermons reveals the familiar rhemes of adversus Jud(Jeos invective: Jews are blind, hard-hearted, fleshly, stubborn, a nd prideful: they murdered C hrist; they a re exiles; chey carry t he ch urch's books: they are saved only by conversion. Wou ld late-fou rth- to early-fifthcen t ury Norrh African j ews care co listen co t his? I can only guess, but I would guess not. Bur perhaps jews went to hear h im on Christmas? In a sermon fo r that day preached in Hippo, Augustine says to h is con· gregation~ "'Yo u a re all Christians. By rhe grace of God, the ciry is Christian. There are o nly two sorts of people here> C hristians an d jews" (Sennon 196-4). Is "here" the basilica, and thus t he congregation before h im? O r is "here" Hippo, and t hus che larger population of t he town? \Vich mosr scholars, I thin k "town." O n the other hand, Augustine was one o f the g reatest verbal perfo rmers of his d ay within a culture where such perfo rmances were savored1 a ppreciated, and recre· ationa11y enjoyed. Might Jews in Hippo, or in Carthage, or in some other city, d ro p by to hear h im speak? Considering che patterns of urban living in Ro man late antiqu ity> again, I thin k that we must infer that some Jews sometimes listened to him in h is basilica because> again, ir would be incredib le if they d id not. But infe rence is not evidence. Finally, local jews a nd local Ch ristians may have been in social contact with each other in ways that pro mpted Christians co j udaizethar is> to adop~ as Christians, some of the customs of the jews. As a pastor, then> Augustine would have been indi rectly in contact with jews through Judaizing members o f his own co ngregation. Augustine

Jll • ,\UG US T lNil. ASD TUll p:WS

does occasionall)' mention ch at Christians Judaize. "If anyone, even a catechumen, is ca ught observing the Sabbath according ro Jewish cu srom,'' he noted somewhar gloomily in 395, "t he whole church is in a n uproar"' (On Galatiam 35·5~ t he source of Augustine's gloom was h is congregations' open reliance on astrology, which he t houghr much worse than Judaizing). In a Iacer letter, he responds to a Bishop Ascellicu s who was troubled b)' a local Christian's success in e ncouraging others to Judaize (Letm· 196.4,16). Was the Old Testament itself, hea rd in chu rch services, the inspiration for such Judaizing? O r v.ras its source, instead, rh e local synagogue? 1 assume rhe former, because we have no preaching from Augustine (or others of h is colleagues) com· plaining to his congregadonl as Chrysosrom did to h is, thar membe rs of t he church freq uented Jewish gatherings. To conclude: Though he often mentions '"Jews,., and speaks variously both abou t t hem and "to" rhem, Augustine•s sermons in themselves prO\•ide no clea r evidence ch at jews \vere eith er actually p resent in his a ud ience or even indirectly involved with it.t! The third p lace where Augustine could have encountered jew'S and interacted with rh em \\'aS in his secretariwn where, in h is ca pacity as bishop, h e a rb it ra ted lawsuits. "When called upon whether by Ch ristians or by members of any ocher seer," his biographer Possidius recorded, "Augustine heard their cases with care a nd de1iberation.,., He passed much of h is time in his a udience hall, "missing th e mid -day meal, sometimes even f.1.sting all day'' (Po.ssidius again, Lifo 19.3). Every work day, every work week, he spent his daylight hou rs listening ro the arguments of plaintiffs and respondents. T hen as now, most of these cases revolved aroun d money and real estate: taxes, bequests, debt, property disputes. Tiresome, confounding complexities, he called t hem (perpl•xjtates; On the \Vork ofMonks 37).•l This is where we-and Augustine- meet Licinius. Licinius was a local la ndowner with a n awk\\<ard real estate problem: One of Augusrine's colleagues, a Bishop Victor, had defra uded Licinius of a piece of pro perty. Licinius had purchased this property from its former owners, who in t h eir tu rn had purchased it at some point p rior from Licinius' mother. Licinius evidently had come co Augustine w·ich documenrarionJ and Augustine, examining his dossier of ta blets, was satisfied chat th ey established ownership. "But what he

went o n to say in his complaint," Augustine wrote to Victor, "is quite incredible": He claims that Your Holiness then bought all of this parcel from t he same old wornan~ his mother, and rhar }··ou chased him off d1e properry, even rhough he owned 1r 111 full riglu! And when he bt·oughr his complaim co you>you cold him,,.,, bought it. If your mother was wrong ro selltt co me, rake her co com·c. Don'r ask me fo r anything because I don't owe you atl}'thing.~·· LF.rrttx

11

S. t

If he's lying, Augustine cells Victor, write right back. llur, he co ntinues d ip lomatically, "if) because you do not know the law, you t hought that you could answer h im like that, Your Charity should know that a person in legal possession of a property can not legall)' be evicted fro m it. And h is mother had no r ig ht to sell her son's land to you, even if some part of ir still belonged to her." The son, Augustine warns Victor, has a solid case, at1d he cerrainlr \Vas not a bo ut to sue his own mother. He ·would rather go after the man who had invaded his property-"the position,'' Augustine adds \\~th some delicacy, '"in which I wish Your Fraternity did not find h imsel f.'' Victor should restore h is p roperty to Licinius immediately, and then cry to collect from his mother. "And even if she refuses to give back to you the price that you paid to her, this man must in no case be deprived of his p ro perty. He must get it back. justice is o n his side; the laws cry ou t in his favor." Remember what Pa ul teaches, Augustine concludes, quot ing t Corinthians tO:j2: ''Give no offense to the jews o r the Greeks, nor to t he church of God"-the likely co nsequence if Victor, refusing to cooperate now, pushes Licinius to pursue the case before th e episcopal court (Lettet· *8.1).4 Augustine probably had more in mind than just the b ishop's court when he concluded h is letter with this quotatio n from Paul. \Ve would not know rhat1 however, had he not added a single word to Licinius' name back in the lener's first line: !tuiaeus Liniciu.s. Licinius

the Jew. This letter is undated and undatable. \X1e do not k now where Licinius' land was, nor Victor's chu rch, except that both, presumably,

Jl4 · AUCiOSTII'-t! ANO TU I! J l!WS

were convenient to Hippo. \\/hat we could guess from the first paragraph of this letter is whar its second paragraph goes on to reveal: Licinius and his mother have a troubled relatio nship. (Augusrine got co the bottom of that, coo, and in his second paragraph he gave Vic cor some practical advice about restoring peace in their household: Letter *8.2.) As a clue to social relatio ns bet\veen Jews and Christians in latefourth- co early-fifth-century North Africa, however, what is 1nost valuable abo ut this brief, precious document is what it holds in common wirh the d og in the nigh t-time in Sherlock Holmes' Siit'
••• TO T I·I E RliETO RJC-or, rather, to the theology-of j udaism rhat Augustine had achieved by circa 400. His thoughts on jews

LET 'S RETURN

"Sid)' Tht m Not .. . " · 3lJ

and j udaism were a small piece of his much larger, astonishingly r ich spiri tual and intellectual achievement of the late 390s. In To Simpli· ci
jl6 • AUOUST I Nl! ANI> T I.. E JEWS

also had great coherence, scope, power, and originality. lr sum moned the same from Augustine. \'
Traditional}ewish pm.xis- Sabbath, immmions, lmliday,food laws, alld nwst especial6· blood sacrifices a11d flesh9• cirmmcisirm- t.-uly ami approprifltely fulfilled God's commaml. This is the single brightest star in

"·sla)'

Th~m

Not . . . '' · 317

t he co nstella tion of h is original ideas in Augustine's theology o f j udaism. Against t he grain of late Roman Neoplato nic philosop hy, he emphasized the value, even th e necessity, of seeing h istOf)' as viral to revelation and o f seeing flesh as viral to spirit. Thus) aga inst the prio r catholic traditions adwrms lttdaeos, which had emphatically denounced "fleshly" Jewish practices, Augustine asserted t hat such p ractices had been and still were absolutely fundamen taJ to o rthodox Chr istian ity precisely beca use t hey were and are "fleshly." Praxis, t he "traditions of t he fathers" as Paul calls it (Galat ians 1:14), is where Judaism is a t irs mosr emphatica lly, distinctly, erh· n ically, carnally Jewish. \Vithour th is, said Augustine, you cannot have Christ ianity; because wlchour rh is, you can not have the in· ca.rnate C hrist. Against tvlanichaean Docetism) of course, Augus· t ine as others had lo ng ta ught that Christ tr uly had a h LLman body. Here, however, he affirms much more than that. Christ is God at his most emphaJic.al!J', distinct/)~ etlmica~ carna/1)1 jewish. Christ, Augustine insisted, \Vas God in a malejeulish body, which was nee· essary for the perfect fulfillment of the Law. And t he Law had to be-co uld o nly be-fulfiUed semndmu r art1en1J because redemption is not just th e redemptio n o f t he soul but t he redemptio n of the whole person, body and soul together. Thus, in h is jewish fles h) Christ piously and perfecdy kept all of Jsrael's commandments, from t he circumcision that he received on th e eighth day of his h uman, Jewish life up ro leaving his tomb o n rhe th ird day after h is dea t h, when he rose in the flesh only once the Sabbat h was over. Hisrorical jewish practice) unders-tood in t his posirive way, not o nly enables a robustly "plain" reading of the Old Testament and of t he New, Augustine main tains; it actually safeguards ca tholic doctrine. J.

]ems, the original af1"stl.es, the dmt~hes ofjudea, atld Past/ all kept the commandment! pious/} and 5incet't'{)) according to the traditWm of their fo· tbet'J. Here too, Augustine's teach ing was o riginal. t hough doubdess the clar ity and force wit h which he expressed it owed much ro the a ttacks of Jerome. Against Jerome's reading of Paul and Peter's fight in Galatians, Augustine emphasized t hat scrip-

j!S ·AUGUSTIN!! AN"l> TUil J llWS

ture does not lie. and thus that a desire co deceive can never be attrib uted to its autho rs. T hus against j ero me's loud er, mo re hostile, dassicall)' advet·srH lHdaeos u nderstanding of Christian iden tity-no o ne can be both a jew and a Christian at the same time but o nly o ne o r the other-Augusd ne affirmed the contrary. Po inting bo th to jesus and co the disciples. he insisted that the en· tire founding generation of the church was both Jew and Christian at the same d me. Had they not been, he further argued, they would have compromised their mission to the Gentiles, by con· fusing them about the profo und differe nce between the Law (which, though God-given, they d id not need to keep) and their faJse gods (whose cults the)' could not, under any circumstances) continue to keep). And even the Gentiles of this firsr Christian generation had Judaized, he said. assum ing some o f the practices of their jewish brethren, in this way also living as both jews and Christians ar the same rime. ln rhese ways, according to Augustine, Christian identity is bo und historica11)· as well as textually co Jewish identiC}'·· 4· God and the jews) and tbus the dmrdJ and tbe jews, nUJ.itJtain ttn abiding

rek.tiomhip. 11Jis rel4riomJJip is Jotmded upoll their shared biblical text 41Jd is especially commullicated ill that &ext by the figure of Cain. The im age of Cain typo logically reveals the "future''-which for Augustine means rhe present-of1srael sectmdmn cartJ-t>m. Both Cain and the jews are fratr icides. Like Cain, whom God exiled In punishment fo r the crime of killing Abel, the Jews coo are in exile, driven from their kingdom fo r the crime of killing Christ. Like Cain, who worried about his O\Vn f1eshly death, so the jews now worry about their "fleshly" death, that is, not their physical death but their ethnic/ religious ''death" as a separate people with their own inherited traditions o f worship. \X'irh the resounding success of the gentile mission, Augustine taught, observing the La\1/ secundt~>m carnem is no longer appropriate ro the rimes. Yet nonetheless, God has providentially arranged chings, bringing good o ut o f bad, by having the jews' stubbo rn Jewishness-of which he himself is authorbenefit the church. The very visible evidence both of their exile and of their Judaism, the u biquity of their presence and rhus the

".S id)' Th~m Not .. . '' · 319

5·

u biqu ity o f rheir books, publicly confi rms rhe C hristian underscanding of chese books, which long ago exacdy fo recold cheir currene condition. 'They have eyes t hat would not see" (Romans 1 1:8~ Isaiah 19:10): Fleshly Israel is blind co the rruch of t he gospel. "Let their backs be bent d0\111 forever" (Ro mans u :9; Psalm 69:23): Since they cult ivate th e Law in an earthly \Vay, their eyes a re turned not co heaven, but to che earth (On Psalms 59-2,7-S). Toiling in (unknowing) servitude to the Christians, the jews actually carry their books tOr t he chu rch. Jews as Jews, Augustine asserted through this argument, were not a challenge co Christian identity but a witness to it and a support fo r it, confirming in their aJ iegiance to their scriptures the validity o f the Ch ristian claim. God protects the jews as he had protected Cain. He has placed bis mark upon them, f»·otecting their sperial idenlil)• by f»·otecting their ancestt~l

practices; and these ancestnt! practices are themselves

God~c

"mark."

\Xlj[hou t t he visibility o f t heir a ncestraJ practices to identi~, them, jews could not be o f service to the chu rch. The prophecies of cheir exjle and of their blindness would not be so plainly manifest~ their dependence o n and identification with their books would be neither so srro ng nor so well known~ pagan skepticism o f Christian claims could not be so readily aJiayed. A ny ruler (even a Christian ruler) who would try to "kill" Jews-that is, who might a ttempt to separate chem forcibly from their d ivinely mandated o bservances-calls God's curse dO\vn upon himself Thus, despite the face chat individualjews had always joined the church and would always join rhe church, co ncludes Augusrine, rhe Jews as a people apart, marked by their un ique and un iquel)' God-given practices, will continue co exist u ntil the close of the age.

••• nu r IN .tGMNsrl';tus·rvs> Cain is nor the o ne who goes into exile carrying a load o f books. Thac job goes to Ham, che middle son of Noah. In a nother in tr icate typ ological reading, Augustine coord inates aJmost every detail of Genesis 9:10- 27, th e story o f Noah's drun kenness, wi[h the fut ure history of the ancient church. This time, the drunk Noal1~ sup ine and naked~ is the stand-in fo r Christ in h is mortality. O f the

JlO •

AU
rh ree brothers, Ham is the o ne who "sees h is fath er's nakedness/' that is, he is those Jews who consent to jesus• d eath. Ham nms o ur to tell h is two brothers a bo u t their father's nakedness; so also the Jews reU "Shem" (who stands for Jewish Christians) and "Japhec" (who stands for Greek Ch ristians) abou t Chr ist's "naked ness 1' (th at is, about h is d eath). By broadcasting Christ's mortality to Christians borh Jewish and gentile, rhe Jews/ Ham likewise broadcast the Bible's deepest meaning, "for what was hidden in rh e prophets was d isclosed by the Jews." Noah cursed Ham, saying tha t he would be a slave to h is b rothers (servtt~ Genesis 9:15-17). The Jews, by d isclosing what the p ro phets really meant-the prophets aJI spo ke of a crucified and risen messiah, t hough the Jews never understood this- are thus the slaves o f rh eir (Chr istian) b rorhers, "cursed" beca use t hey srilJ live under rhe Law (Galatians ):10; Against FausttiJ I2.u ). But t his servit ude is of a very par ricular ki nd. The whole narion (gens), carrying the Law and the prophets, is a librarian who ports a chest full of books (sct·iniari.a, feminine of scrini(Jrius because o f the fe minine gens; Against Faustus l l.2J). From Cain to Ham to slaves to servile book caretakers. Out of this 4

congested set of images a nd episodes Augustine conso·ucts his idea of rh e Jews as wandering book slaves who witness to Ch ristian rrurh. The wandet·ing pa n a nd rh e part a bo ut obvious }etvisb identit} {conveyed to outsiders by visible, physical behaviors) come from Genesis ..J= Cain, rh e exiled, d ivine!)' marked, d ivinely p rotected fra tr icide. The slave serv· ing tbe clmrcb comes fro m Noah's curse to Ham, who becomes a slave co his brothers in Genesis 9· T he books refer to scripture, the (misund erstood) script for the j ews' visible practices, whose deepest meanings had to awair the messiah's crucifixio n and resurrection before they could be (retrospectively) understood by orhers. Bur t he Law a nd t he prophets speak nor only abou t Ch rist. They also speak abour h is church. They declare the .frredom of the dum:h: Christians are no lo nger obligated ro keep the Law according to the lerter. For rh is reason>Augustine reaches1 the jews carry rheir books arou nd ad testimonium adsertionis t~desiae, '' ro testify to rhe adsertio of rh e church.'' This is an oth er dense knot of associa tions. An adsettio is a formal declaration of freedom, a public, legal acr by which a slave becomes a freedman. The Law and the p rophets, borne by the slave-Jews,

"Slay Tbrm .'f\1or

. .. " ·

p 1

testify to the divine manu mission of t he chu rch. Freed by Ch risr from bo ndage to the Law, C hristians honor t hrough t he church's rites (sacrametJta) what the j ews announced in t he letter (per litter~m; Against Faustus 12.23- 24). And by not understanding this t ruth, t he jews further disp lay their witness to this trurh>beca use their own books had fo reseen that r.he jews would not understa nd (Against Faustus 16.21). In short, rhe main theme of Paul's letter to the Galatians- exacdy what Paul had corrected Peter about; exactly what Augustine had corrected Jerome about- is the Gen tiles• fi·eedom from the Law in Chr ist. This declaration of freedom in rhe gospel p rovides Augustine with his scaffold for all of his other ideas here. Assembling t hese discrete biblical elements inro a unified image, he produces this historically rooted jignm o f t he Jewish people as key to understanding Chr istian faith. Augustine is the ultimate t heological bricokm: Bu t he was also a former p rofessor. lt is not surprising rh en t hat Augustine also knew a lor of ways ro say "people who a re respo nsible fo r books." "The jews serve us, as if they were our capsarii carrying codices for us to study," he says in h is sermon o n Psalm 40. Bur th is cap· sarius moves within Genesis 4: He is also '' Cain the elder brorher, who killed his younger brother, and so received the mark that no one should kill h im, rh at is, so thar he remains that peopJe•'-rh e j ewish people. \\/hen skeptical pagan s questio n Ch ristiansJ Christian s can summon the Jews' books. "Thus has God arranged all things, ordered all things fo r o ur salvatio n" (On Psalms 40.14,7). "The Jews, scattered t hroughout the worldJ a re Hke the custodians of our books•' (Sermon 5-5). "The Jew carries t he codex . .. chey have become our libra rian" (On Psalms )6.9,1). Book custod ian (wstos libromm), librarian (bibliothec.1rius, librari11s), guardian of t he book cask (scriniarius, capsarists). The Law and the p rophets universally speak abouc Christ: the jews, reading wrongly, unwittingly carry these books that they rh ink are theirs but thac actually belong co the chu rch . In this way, t he Jews help t he church to spread the gospel.•s This set of associa tions- jev.'S, exiles, books) testimony- is rhe verbal core of what scholars designate Augustine's "doctrine of jewish wimess." Historians (myself a mong rhem) have rermed this Augustinian teaching o riginal and distinctive, as indeed it is. When we place his

Jll ·

AUOUST I Nl! ANI> T I.. E JEWS

teaching within its native h istorical co ntext) however, second· through fifth-centu ry Christian rhetoric, what is striking, indeed surprising, is how rradi tional many elemems o f his "witness doctrine 1• actually look. TI1at jews a re punished fo r t heir rejectio n of Christ by t he loss of rheir k ingdom is an idea that goes back to the gospels rh emselves. Luke's jesus aJI but names Rome as he weeps over jerusalem and the consequences o f the j ews' coming denial of him. " Indeed the days will come upon you when you r enemies will set u p ram pares and surround you and hem you in on every side. And they will crush you to the groundJ you and your children; and leave no sto ne upo n another" (Luke 19:43-44). John's gospel actually does name Rome wh en the chief priests and Phar isees assemble to p lot jesus' d eath. ''If we let h im go on like this, everybody will believe in him, a nd the Ro mans will come and destroy our holy place"-thar is) the Temple-"and our nation" (John 11:48). Using the destruction o f jerusalem and rhe "exile" o f c.he people co confirm C hristianity is common to all patristic commenrary. O rigen even chides josephus fo r omit ting fro m his jewis.b WWr the "real ca use" behind these events: josephus "ough t to have said that the plot agajnst jesus was the reason why t h ese catastro phes came upon the people" (Agai11st CeL
(Against Crlstts 2-34). Augustine creatively uses the figu re o f Cain to rep· resent t he j ewish people posr-70; but t11bat Cain typifies recap it ulares many of these tradirionaJ ideas about guile) pun ishment, and exHe. Put d ifferently: Augustine's interpretacion o f the "mark of Cain" to mean current jewish practice and to indicate the divine means and sign o f rh eir continu ing preservation, is emphatically o riginal. His und erstanding o f the causes o f rhe jewish defeat in 70, a nd of the jews' subsequent exile) t)'pified for h im by "Cain," is not. l11ose gentile communities who lay claim ro rhe Septuagin t saw rhe gospels' prophecies of exile under Rome through rhe proximate lens o f the Bar Ko khba revolt in 132- 135 c.E. and th rough the d istan t lens of t he classical prophets: Isaiah, jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Daniel (p. 84 ab01..). Terrullian, explaining the exile as the p rophesied conse· quence o f the crucifixio n, acruall)' quotes Psalm 59:12, "Scarcer them

" Sfa)' T"em Not • . . '' · 3l J

\lith your might" (Again.
Jl4 • AUOUSTISl! AND THE JEWS

and rhe prop hers so thar C hristians can shake their fi nger ar skeptical pagans (especially in light of the "prophetic" events of the temples' closures in 399)-rrue Christians everyv.'here are happy to have such a slave to carry such books, answered Augustine. In short, Augustine's association o f Israel secundsm1 carnem with th eir scriptu res is not in itself an original idea~ nor is h is assertio n that t heir exile, their books, and their example verify C hristian claims. Rather, it is th e power of h is style, the sheer elan of his rh etoric in coordinating all o f rh ese d isparate ideas a round t he figure of Cain th at makes Augustine's image of the Jew-as-book slave so ou tstandingly vivid. His servile Jewish scriniarim, eternally marked by his ancient books and h is own sacred practices, is Augustine's rhetorical!)' pungent reprise of many different trad itional Christian ideas. 4

• •• 59, Augustine was moved tO reprise these ideas yet again. This discovery perhaps occurred at some po in t between 4 10 an d 415, when he was pressing forward in his long term project o f composing sermons o n the en tire book of Psalms. He shaped his in terpretation of verse 12-"Siay t hem not> lest my people forget; scatter them wit h your might''-by ap pealing exactly to those same a rgumen ts that he had advanced in Agaimt Faustus. "\X'hat does it mean>'to be killed'?'" Augustine asks here. And he answers, "It is to forger the law o f rhe l o rd." {The language of the psalm dictates h is use here of forget Against Faustus, he had emphasized the agency of others> namely monarchs who might n'Y to coercej'"kill" che jews by disrupring their p ractices.) Because o f their unique customs, Augus tine continues, the Jews have survived as a people despite t he loss of t heir kingdom. They are marked like Cain (again he refers to Genesis 4:15); a nd the sign marking them is their Law, which is to say, t heir trad itional practices. Augustine specifies some o f t hese here: circumci sion>Sabbath> slaughtering a lamb for Passover, and eating unleavened b read (On Psalms 59.l,21; the same point with p ractices unspecified>Against Famtm t2.tJ). At the end of h is fi rst sermon o n Psalm 59 and again in the course of his second one, Augustine comments fu rther o n the significance of ONCE I·IE DISCOVERED PSALM

4

4

4

"·slay Th~m Not . .. '' · J"25

"Scatter them."' O nce more, he describes the exiled jews' ca rrying their books) this time referring to Paul's letter to the Romans. Here Augustine conce ptualizes rhe ultimate fate of the jews with another t3.vorite image, the olive t ree in Romans It {some b ranches remain on the trunk; others a re b roken off, thus ''scattered..,). And he also refers to the vessels o f mercy and of wrath shaped by God the potter in Romans 9:21 (On Psalms 59.1,2l-22; 59.2,22; so also Against Famtm. 2LJ. All rh ree texts use these same Pauline verses}. Behind these two sermons o n Psalm 59 stand h is ideas o n the myswy o f salvation as he had formulated them, thinking particularly with Romans, when writing to Simplicianus. God had chosen Paul mysteriously, d espite Saul's murderous behavior. ''How had he dese1ved it? lt is not fo r us to say"' (On Psalms 59.1)11). Salvation, h e repeatst is not un iversal, and it depends entirely on God's election. The true Israel, "Jsrael according to t he spirit/' will comprise some jews and some Gentiles, inexplicably chosen by God our of the sinful mass of h umanity, the "lu mp of day" in Romans 9:2 1 (On Psalms 59.1J2; see further, 59.2,6-7). Sometime du ring th is same period, Augustine received a substantial e pistle from his friend and fellow bishop Paulin us o f Nola. Shaky chro nology prevents us from knowing which came firsr, Augustine's serrnons o r Pau linus' letter. Add ressing Augustine as the "blessed teacher o flsrael," Pa ulinus asked about the interpretation o f a variet)' of verses both from rh e New Testament a nd from Psal ms (Letter The meaning of Psalm 59:11 especially exercised him. This psalm should be u ndersrood, Paulinus observes, as the voice of the Son speaking to the Fath er. Sc.attering dearly refers to rhe jews, who lost their remple and their ki ngdom and were exiled for their part in the crucifixio n of C hrist. lluc why would Christ plead "lest they forget your Law"? If God has repudiated t he Jews, "what good does it do them/' asks Pau linus 1 1' nor to fo rger the Law?" After all, «whar does 12J.J ,2).

their remembering and meditating on the Lawconrribute to rh eir salvation, which is acquired solely by faith?" (Letter 12J.J,7). Turning to Ro mans, Paulin us continues ro rhink about the salvation o f the Jews. "As regards the Gospel," Paul had said about his kinsmen, Jsrael semndum canJen~ "they a re e nemicst beca use of you !Gentiles]; but as regards electio n, they are beloved, because of the

_u6

·AUGUSTI NE ,\N'D THIO J I:WS

forefathers" (Romans 11:28). Wh at good does being "beloved by God" do for rhe jews, Pa uli nus asks~ if they are damned o ut right for being r.he enemies o f Christ? Behind this question stands a more fu ndamental one: \Vhy d id God configure salvation as a zero-su m co mpetition between GencjJes a nd Jews in the li rsr place? Does Paul's statement not imply that rhe Gentiles would not have believed unless rh e Jews~ first~ had not believed? "How was God ... in capable of acquiring bo th peoples, rather t han having only one o r the other?" Pau lin us asks. "If t he Jews a re beloved of God, how will they perish? And if t hey do not beJjeve in Christ, how will they not perish?'' (Letter J2L2,J t).

Augustine responded to Pau lin us several years later and at length . (An earlier reply, which we no lo nger have~ had eviden tly gone missing; Lettet· 49.1,2.) As with Letter 82 co Jerome, so also wit h Letti!r 149 to Pau lin us: Augustine uses h is correspondence as a wa}' to summarize and to condense earlier, more d iffuse reach ings. This time) h is copies are the j ewish people, Jewish law, God's justice and mercy, and final salvation. He begins from h is interpretive set point: \'Vhcnever any psalm mentions the Jews• "scattering/' it refers to events in the }"ear 70, after "they were defeated and wiped ouc in a terrible war" (Letter 149.1J). Turning more specifically ro Psalm 59:12, Augusrine reiterates his eadier argument against Faustus, and again makes Genesis 4:15, th e "mark o f Cain>"' rhe pivot of h is exegesis (Letter 149.1,9; Against Fau· s/"s J2 .lj). The Jews' books prove to skeptical pagans chat t he church d id nor inwnt Christ. C hrist had been foretold long ago "in the man· uscriprs o f our enemies.'' And, again, he notes that Je\VS are nowhere "killed/' mean ing that they practice their religious customs freely. In so do ing> they unwit tingly render a service o f witness ro C hrist a nd to h is ch urch:

Do not ktlf dJem, lest rhis people's name be e,Hinguished; >o :bat the)• m")' not forgetyour~ somerh111g char mighr have happened if, 1

compelled co follow gentile rices and sacrifices, th e)' \vouJd nor have l'etained rhe name of t heir own 1·eligion. In sctipru1·e rhey ate symbol1zed as Cam, upon whom God placed hts mark, so chat no one would kill him. Then, as if rhe psalmisr had been asked \\'hac

"'S/;~.y

Tb('m Nor . • . ,. · 327

should be done \Vtth rhis people . . . so thac the}' m ight serve co cescify ro tJ'uch, he imrnediately added ScatA'1' dJem with;rour might ro the first sen renee, Do not kill them so that tbry do not forget )lOur

Lat11. For if th e jews lived in only one place on rhe earch, rhey could nor by their tesrimony assist in the preaching of che gospel, which causes t he ean h rhroughour rhe world ro bear fi'Uic. For t his reason, chen, th e rext scares srauer them tPttb your mrgj1~ so thar through their law1 which t hey do nor forger) t hey mighc be wimesses evet·ywhere co him whom the}' denied and per'secured and killed. T har Law fo retold rhe one whom the Jews do not follow. Bur ir does not do rhe Jews rhernselves any good not ro fo rger the Law. lr is one thing ro hold t he law in rhe memot·y, quire another co hold ir in min d and deed.

Augustine next considers those passages that PauJinus had singled o ut in Pa ul's letters. Puzzling over Roma ns and the unequal fa tes o f Gentiles and je\vs, Paulin us feh: that "PauJ>s" statement in J Timothy o nly compounded t he p roblem. "God wan ts al l people to be saved and to co m e to t he knowledge of rrut h " (t Timothy 2:4). Why then, Pa uli nus asked, if he wan ts to save all people, has God acted as if he could save o nly o ne people or the other, o nly the Genciles and not also the Jews (utter 121.2,n )? Augustine d ispatches t h is difficulty by quoting the next sentence o f th is deucero·Pauline epistle: "For t here is o ne God, a nd one media· tor between God and h um anity, t he human Jesus Chr ist" (1 Timoth)'

2:5). These two sentences stand in chis sequence, he explains, so chat the reader would underst and t he phrase "God wants all people to be saved" to mean usaved in Christ," t he unique med iato r between God an d man (utte>· 4 9.2,18). This idea of delim ited redemption moves Au· gustine easily ro Rom ans and ro the restatement of his understanding of redemptio n chat he h ad worked out in the lace 390s. "Hence}do not let the words of the sam e apostle abour ch e jews alarm you," he coun· sels PauJinus, ''namely, 'Jn terms o f t he gospel t hey are enem ies o n your accounr, b ur in terms of election) t hey are beloved, on accoun t of the forefat hers•" (Roman s 11 :28). God's ways a re un searchable} his

_u8 ·

AllGUSTII'-t! ANO TUI! J l!WS

judgments inscrutable (Romans HJ3)- The pious can only trust in h is wisdom and his justice~ they cannot u nderstand his reasons. \Vhy does it please God to make so many people \vho he fo reknows will remain reprobate? Because he makes good use of evil for t he benefit of the good, asserts Augustine. To h uman mindsJ ho\vever, his plan is concealed (in abdito). It is at this point that Augustine confronts, and so reinterprets, Paul's statement about the ultimate redemption of aU Israel: " I do not want you to be ignora nt of this mystery, broth ers and sisters. For blindness has come upon a part oflsrael, un til th e fullness o f th e Gentiles has entered, a nd so all /srael lvi/1 be saved" (Ro mans 1 c25). Paul lim · its Israel's blindness to onl)' ''a parr," notes Augustine, because some Jews had indeed received the gospeL Similarly, rhe "fullness of the Gentiles,., refers not co all Gentiles, but o nly to that fractio n of the Gentiles "who have been called according to God 's plan": O nly they are p redestined to election. Accordingly, he continues, "aii imtel" that is Sat'td does not a11d c.amwt mean all of "Israel according to tbe flesll''- tbat L~ the }etvs. \Vhar does Paul mean, then? " Israel according to the spirit," Augustine concludes~ vems Israel, "true Israel,'' t he Israel of God. This " Israel'' designates t he co mmu nity o f the redeemed, which is composed of t hose particular Jews and those designated Gentiles whom God, in his inscrutab le wisdom, chose to save. Likewise when Paul q uotes Isaiah 59:20, "l shaJI rake awa)' their sins," t he apostle speaks "not to the sins of all the Jews, but o nly ro t he sins of t hose je\VS who were chosen'' (Lette•· 149.2,19)." "This is the po in t," continues Augustine to Pa ulin us, "at which Pau] adds t he words that you set forth to be investigated: 'The)' are enemies in terms of t he gospel on your account' " (Romans 11:28; Letter 149.2,20). Ch ristian salvation had depended o n Christ's being slain, a n act that o nly enemies could commit. "Here is an example of how God uses evil fo r th e improvement of the good.'' The second clause of Paul's statement, ''they are beloved in rerms of election o n accounr of the forefachers," must therefore refer to a difterent subject, Augustine explains, not to "the Jews" who were rhe subject o f rhe first clause. The true subject of the latter clause, t he identity of God's "beloved ," Augustine concludes, are those who were p redestined "according to the

"'Sfa)' Them Not • . . " · .319

election rhar was hidden in the foreknowledge of God" (Letter

'49-2,20). Augustine concludes by deftly synopsizing chis view of Romans~ achieved so laboriously when he had commented on these same verses~ years agot to Simplicianus. Proceeding to Romans 11:29-"The gifts a nd t he call o f God are irrevocable"-Augusti ne again modifies Paul b)' understanding "calling" in light of Matthew's reach ing o n how few a re chosen, e>'l?n t hough many are called (Matthew 22:t4; Letter 49.2,21). The o nly call ch at is irrevocable, he says, is the o ne that goes our 1'ac· cordin g to God's plan /' which summons those whom he already pre· destined and infall ibly fore knew. But if the initiative for salva tion rests entirely with God, how then does he come just/;1 to h is decision about whom to save and whom to leave? By what criteria does he judge? God aJone knows> answers Augustine. Piety affirms that, while God's rea· sons may be h idden (ocmlta), they can never be unjust. "Is there injustice wit h God? God forbid!" (Romans 9:14; Letter 149.2,22). To Pau lin us' more fundamental question-not whether God co uld have saved t he jews>bur why he chose not to-Augustine answers that th ere is no an· swer. But not many Gentiles are chosen, either. All are equally children o f Adam, and thus many from each people are condemned justly, though some from each people are mercifully saved. At some point after this exchange with Pauli nus, Augustine again tu rned to Psalm 59:12. \Ve haw two undated sermons from him t hat a ppeal to t h is special verse, one tided Faith in 11Jings Umetm, the other) Sermon against the jews. Faith in Thing; Umeen 6.9 offers a condensed presentation of now-familiar ideas: rhe j ev.<s' exile, their books, their practices, t heir service to rhe chu rch. jews read their books) Augustine says, bur because of God's ocetdto justoque iudido} h is "hidden just judg· menr," rhey do not u ndersta nd them. Why has God thus judged the jews? For occultioribus causis, "rather obscure reasons.'' Augustine refers to Psalm 69:22-24, on the jews' blind eyes and bent backs, quoted by Paul in Romans n:ro . And he then deploys Psalm 59:12, "Slay rhem not,,. in h is now-usual way. By never forgetting the Law, che d ispersed Jews senre the church. "In their hearts they are o ur enemy; in their books, o ur witness.'' \V'har is srriking about this passage in th e sermon is not its content, but its economy of expression. Augustine has

)jO • AUOUST I Nl! AND T I-t I! JEWS

rhought out this argument so well and mobilized its supporting scriprural citations so often t hat he can convey it> when he wants, in very few words. In his Sermon agdinst tile )etus, Augustine moves at a more leisu red pace. His ropic is not jews as such, b ut rather t he t rue claimants ro the idencity of Israel. He begins by invoking Paul's olive tree and its b ro ken branches (Romans tJ:17-18), ch en he taunts je\vs for reading what rh ey do not truly understand. (Augustine mentions here chat jews "chant" the prophets, perhaps evidence for his knowledge of actual Jewish lit urgical practices; Agflinst the }elliS 1.1.) The fallen Temple and rh e contin uing exiJe are pressed in to their usual service, and various Ternple sacr ifices, once explicared, reveal the blood and flesh of t he in carnate Christ- no accident, since Christ came to fu lfill rhe Law, not to destroy it (Against tbe jews 2.J-s)- Augustine next decodes several psalms in similar fash ion (Psalms 44, 69, 79, 49, 45; Ag.1inst a>e jer., 2.J6.8). Thereafter, he enacts a debate between himself a nd "rhe je\vs, as if t hey were present" (Against the }etvs 7·9 and passim). Only at this poin t does Augustine cite Psalm 59:12. He uses it torebuke t he Jews for rh eir continuing exile and for their witless service to rh e church. ("Mindful'' of t he Law, t he Jews never realize that what rhey carry is actually a covenant for the Gentiles, to whom they unknowingly min ister; Against tbe )eu1s 7.9.) In this way, the older brother (Esauf the Jews) now serves t he younger brother (Jacob/the Gentiles). Quoting Isaiah 5):8, Augustine then declaims: 'T his is .said about Chrisr, whom you>in your paretJts, led to death" (Against the jews. 7.10). Jews are ignoran t, blind, and deaf (7.10-8.11); they build destruction (8.11). By turning t he Gentiles to God, t he church has proved t hat she, not the jews, is t he rrue "house ofjacob," she is "the frui tful olive tree" (9.t2- JO.I); Psalm )L:IO). " Proclaim t hese d ivine testimon ies to che Jews, with great love for them," Augustine exhorts his congregation, and so brings h is performance to a close.:s 'Ibese clusters of scriptural citations and allusions, the continual reference to Paul's letter to the Romans, the wanderingje\VS with rheir Law and rheir books: \XIe have seen aU of th is before. Bur something is different here. \V'har is most in teresting abo ut t hese two sermons, what they hold in common \\~th each other and what distinguishes

"SI.ty Thtm Not . .. " · J3•

them &om Augustine's p rio r works o n jews a nd j udaisrn is not sornething tha t they have, but something that tht}' lack. Cain>Augustine's premier b iblical figure for the Jews, is suddenly strangely absent. What hap pe ned to Cain? Where did he go? Why? To find h im, we must look in City of God.

••• Ha ppy gods make fo r happy h umans. And o f course t he opposite is also true: absent cult, gods grow angry. \Vhen gods are angry, h umans pay. This traditional understanding of po litical an d social relations between heaven a nd earth was as strong in rhe earl)' fifth century C. E. as it h ad been during the lifetime of Alexander the Great in the late fo urth cent ury u.c.E. \X'hen a marauding army o f Goths humiliated the city of Ro me in 410, impatient pagans lost no time in poin ting to the real culprits: the misguided a nd zealous Chr istians, who had closed public altars a nd withdrawn public monies from t he old cults. Under those gods, the city and t he empire had Aourished. Now tha t Rome had deserted her gods, her gods had deserted Rome. It was in response to this pagan challenge that Augustine began his final master work, Ci~• of God. He labored o n a h uge scale: twentytwo books, written across thirteen years. City of God began as a reco nsideratio n of Roman history. lts firs t cen books review how Rome had had her downs as well as her ups u nder the o ld gods, a nd how what had passed fo r Roman virtue was in service co Ro man lust fo r power> libido domina11di. Buc the t rue subject o f Augustine's magnum opus et ardutml, this 1' huge, d ifticulc work/' as he described it, was h is monumental considera tion of the enri re course o f salvation history, from Genesis thro ugh co final redemptio n. An d in composing chis vast project, Augustine p rod uced as we.ll a symphonic reprise of h is own work) repeating a nd reinterprering the master themes of a lifeti me of vital theological reflection. Jn Cit)! of God, Augustine's comminnent to the centrality of the Bible as God 's revelation, both textually and temporall)', remained as firm and as dear as ever. Bur che cwo decades or so that intervened beCULT MAKES GODS li APPY.

tween his completing Against Faustus and h is composing the second

)Jl ·AUGUSTI N I! AN"l> TUil J llWS

half of Ci~ ofGod had seen important changes in Augustine's position on many key p roblems. Th ree in particular affect, and were affected by, c.he ways that he thought about ChristianiC}->s relationship with Jews and with Judaism. They are (1) the relationship of fles h to spirit, body co soul; (2) che relationship between b iblical texts a nd h istorical time, th us between language and meaning; a nd (3) t he relationship of prophecy to history, and rh us ofGod 1s will to conren1pora ry events. To conclude our work o n his b roader theology- th e context fo r h is innovative a nd imporcant teachings on Jews and Judaism- we must follow ch e development of h is t hinking o n t hese more fundamental issues. By this somewhat circuitous route, we wi11 fi nd our way back co Cain.

Spirit a11d Flesh We have already seen how Augustine, in the )'ears between his p riesthood and h is becoming b ishop, had changed his mind on t he question of hu man salvation, moving from main taining the resurrection of"body" to the resurrection of"flesh" (p. 141 above). This was a d istinction with a great difference-the difference, in Augustine•s lifetime, between orthodoxy a nd heresy. t-.•fore precisely, distinctions of ideas about salvation, spirit, and flesh measured the difference berween che ways that the great third -century theologian Origen had been a ble to think abour redemption (and t hus about divine justice) and the ways that his fi fth-century counterparts were able to think about O rigen. In the in tellecrual freedom o f th ird -cenrur)' Christianity, Origen had read Genesis as describing God's ordering of rwo different realms of creation. God's primary creation~ "made" before time 1 was eternal and spir irual, the native home of all rational beings. God's secondary creation he made out of nothing (creatio ex nibilo). This lam:-r creation \vas t he temporal realm of the material cosmos. Fallen rational beings, in o rder to learn from mistakes that they had made in the spiritual cosmos, lived for a while in chis lower cosmos. In eternity, these rat ional beings had had "spirit ual bod ies.'' (!his was Origen's reuse of Pau l's term for t he type of bod ies that Christians would have a t Christ's Second Coming, the soma pneumatiko-n:; t Corinth ians 15:44; p. 68 a bove.) In time

"Slay Tlum Nor . . . " · 3.B

o r in history) they lived for a while in fleshly bodies, whose source was also the good a nd g racious God. At the end of rime, all souls, even Satan's, would u nderstand the erro r of their \vays, repen t of t he sins com· mitred both before t hey had had material bodies and afterward , an d freely choose co n trn, with love) co God. At tha t poinc, flesh and matter, their purpose as a moral learning tool fo r the soul now completed~ would sin k back in to t he nothingn ess from which t hey had come. 19 This way o f imagining salvat io n seems exotic. but that is because O rigen and his work represent the road not taken by later Christian t heology, much of whjch was shaped in reaction against h irn. In its own day, Origen's t heology powerfully responded to t he problem o f evil) which in monotheistic systems with an all-good. all·pmverfu] god beco mes as well the problem of d ivine justice. By posit ing t hat rational beings had a life (and thus made moral choices) well before t hey ever a ppeared in fles hly bodies, O rigen was a ble to dissolve t he ethical problem posed by the wild diversity of h u man conditions in this life. Why would a just and loving god permi t a baby to be bo rn blind? Because of some sin co mmitted by its soul prio r to its life in its flesh!)' body. Divine providence had determined that exactly that sort of body could best instruct that p articular soul, in o rder to begin that souJ•s process o f freely choosing to tllrn back co God. How could a just god "love j acob"' but " hare Esau" when bo th were sri II in the womb? That was the Bible,s way of hinting a t O rigin•s system: God '"hated" not Esau. of course. but onl)' Es.au 's sin. whatever it was that Esau's soul had d o ne wrong before God sent it into Esau's body. God was the infin itely effective, infinitely resourceful, infinitely pa tient lover of souls, SY.'aying considerate scales. No soul would be lost foreve r. O rigen's in· terpretation o f biblical salva tion h istory, by emphasizing the free will o f the individual rational being, thus also emphasized the un iversali ty, thus th e absolu te fairness, o f God's love. His God, within this system) providentially arranged the material universe so that each and eveq' soul, h is creatures whom he loved, would eventually freely will to turn back to him) to love him. Eventually all are saved. Origen 's legaC)' proved controversial. Exacd y in t he period when Augustine came into h is inrdlecrual mat ur ity as a catholic church· ma n) th e late 390s and the early 400s> t he contro\rerS)' burst upon- and

J.W • AUGUST I NE ,\~D T l-tE J I:WS

blew a part-the pan -Medirerranean community o f o rthodox t heolo gians. Here Augustine's inability to read Greek probably p rotected h im: Dependent on Latin t ranslations o f Origen's works> he could not real!}' join in the international epistolary fray. Bu t when a younger contemporary in Ro me, Pelagius, later defended an idea o f human moral freedom that was much closer to Origen•s than to Augustine's, Augustine convulsed Latin Christianity with tireless polemics against " Pelagianism "~ and endless d efenses of his own ideas o f divine predestination. As usual) argument shar pened his thinking, b ut it also pro voked him to extremes. These extremes seem particularly evident in Augustine's fi nal fo rmu lat io n of his ideas about divine justice and human freedom. l\'lany of his theological positions, taken in t he course o f the Pelagian cont roversy, sound d iametrically opposed to chose o f Origen. \Vhere O rigen held that all would be saved, Augustine held that all should be damned. Where O rigen held that every rat io nal being has li·ee will, Au· gustine held that, absent g race, human will was free only to sin. For both biblical theologians, God 's two great attributes are justice a nd mercy. But Origen•s god e.xpresses these attr ibutes simultan eously and universally: To each soul, h e is both just a nd merciful. Augustine's god expresses these a ttributes serially and selectively: To each soul) God is either just or merciful, and those who receive mercy are in the minority. For Augustine, even babies, if unba ptized, go to hell, and the greater pare of hu maniry is justly predestined to damnation. For Origen) even Satan will at last be redeemed, fo r God desires the salvation of all h is creatures.:o This sharp co ntrast between Augusrine and Origen paralleled the shar p cont rast benveen Augustine and those rwo g reat pagan contemporaries ofOrigen's, Plotinus and Porphyry, whose works had affected him so powerfully back in Milan (p. 126 a bove). The issues d ividing them a re nowhere greater than in their respective views o n t he relation o f bodily flesh to soul. For Origen as fo r these pagan Neoplatonisrs, something about the Aeshly body was in tractably "other." They identjfied "self>' \\ith "soul.'• F1esh was not-self, simply the soul's inconveniem vehicle while it sojourned in time. \X'ith the .tvlanichees, of course} the contrast between Augustine's ultimate posit ion and t heir own was even

" Sfa)' T"em Not • . . '' · J35

sharper, their view of the struggle between se.lf and Aesh mo re drastic. Mani had taught that the fles h was entirely the work o f the fo rce o f darkness: nor just other but also evil. The body was nor rhe remporar)' habitation o f the good self, but its prison. And for all of these thinkers, the progress of the soul or (in Manichaean-Pauline vocabulary) "the inner man'• coward God was measured by lts freedom from the flesh. Augustine rad icall}' reconceived chis body/ soul dichotomy. Living \lith and working through all of these preceding positions-first as a young man with the Manichecs~ Iacer in Milan as a reader of pagan Neoplatonic philosophy and a hearer, via Ambrose, of O rigen-he ultimately came to define human natu re quire diffe rently. The firsr im· porrant steps toward this redefinition had come in the mid-390s, as he wo rked to pry Paul's letters away fro m Manichaean incerpretations. By understanding "spirit'" and "Aesh" nor as substances bur as moral cat· egories, Augustine de·rnateriaJiz.ed evil. Bodily fles h does nor cause the sins of the flesh: Sin's origin lies in the defective will of the "fleshly soul," which burdened the entire species after Adam. O nce the soul, through g race, is no longer "fleshly"' {that is, inclined toward sin), the fleshly body will become "spirimaJ," that is, morally o rien ted coward God and the good (p. qo above). This way of conceiving spirit and Aesh in turn helped Augustine to pry the Old Testamem away fro rn Manichaean in terpretation. \Vhen fles hly bodies engaged in fles hly activitiesJ Augustine main· rained, that behavio r \Vas not necessar ily ''fleshly,'' chat is, sinful. The problem with sexual activity, for instance) was not that it engaged Aeshly bodies bur that it involved both soul and body in that great index o f the sinful state, pleasure. Pleasure was sin's bait. It anesthetized the will. Pleasure o perated involu ntarily both in the soul (which, o nce it started sinning, rapidly became habituated) and in the body. In short, people sin not because they like sin, but because they like plea· su re. People) in fact, could even hate sin but, because o f pleasure, still find themselves repeacedly sinning anyway: That was precise!)' the predicament of the person sub lege, "under the Law/' before he moved sub gratia, "under g race.'• This was rhe awful conflict chat Augustine's Paul had explained by saying, "The evil that I do not wan t to do, I do. .. _Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me fro m this bod)'

Jj6

·AUGUST! Nil ASD THIO JEWS

of dea th?'' (Ro mans 7:19,24). This was the wrenching miser)'• at peak befo re h is conversion> that had moved Augustine to p rar> "Oh Lo rd, g ive me chastity a nd continence-bur not yet!" (Collfossiuns 8.7,17). And th is was the obvious t rut h that Augustine, with some irritation>now th rew at Fausrus: "lf there were no pleasure in wh at is un lawful," he snappedt "no o ne would sin!'' (Against Faustus 22.28). 111e otJ{)' redeeming thing about conjugal intercourse, said Augustine, despite the risk of pleasure, was the oppo rtu nity t hat it p resented for procreation. The Manichees had a ll of this exactly upside d own: In th eir vicious insistence t hat fles h in itself was evil, they even permitted sexual activity to t heir auditm·es provided that the couple practice cont raception (p. 115 above). "You would have thought better o f ~·l ary had she ceased being a virgin wit hout beco ming a mother, instead of becoming a mother without ceasing co be a virgin!" (Agaimt Famtw 30.6). No wonder, then, that the Man ichees displayed so extremely th e invariable consequen ce of doctrinal perversity: They misread the Bible. With the O ld Testament, t hey completely missed rhe fact t ha t the pa· triarchs had conjugal in tercourse nor because it gave them pleasure, but because it gave them child ren (Against Faustm 22-48). The narra· rive's seemingly incidental deta ils-which bad readers invariably missrevealed rhe obvious t ruth of Augustine's position. When Leah (who was neither beloved nor beautiful) traded her mandrake roots with the beloved, beautjful Rachel in exchange fo r jacob's sexual sen,ices}what happened (Genesis JO:t4- 17)? Nothing! What more proof d id Faustus need? Once he discovered his wives1 agreemenc, Jacob suddenly an d unexpecredly had ro mrn fro m rhe beaudful wife co che plain one. Did he go whire wich anger? Or dark wirh melanch oly? Did he tr}' ro wheedle his way Wtth flartery>so rhac he could rerum co rhe prior arrangemencs with Rachel, and saris~' his own desires? No! . . . Seeing d1at his w1ves wet•e concerned about rhe producdon of children-rhe same resulr chac he himself soughr fi'Om conjugal union-he rhoughr ic besr co yield ro rheir deetston. . . . This conrrol over the appNires>and t his destre co beger children>Fauscus \',...ould have been inrelligenr enough ro

"SI
see and ro approve, had his decesrable sen nor so co1·rupced his characce1·and his talems. That is \vhac led him co find fault wirh everything in Scripmre. That is whac raughr hun co condemn che procreation of children as the grearesr crime. whereas ic ts the enril'e point of marriage.

In his g reat commentary on Genesis adlitteram, written duri ng the years between co mpleting Ag.1inst Faustm and starting Ci~' of God, Au-

gustine furt her explo red t he implications of God 's having created fleshly bodies "in t he beginn ing.'' Why would God have made t he fleshly, gendered bodies o f Adam a nd Eve, he asked, if not p recisely for the p urpose o f sexual procreation (Lirem/ Interpretation ofGenesis J2 1,JJ; 9.J,S-ll,t9)? In Parad ise, before sin, the individ ual fleshly body o f each primal parent had been harmoniously and sinlessly united with its soul. Therefore> in Paradise> intercourse. orgasm1 and co nception could all have occurred at will, without pleasure~ and childbirth would have been withour pain (9.tO,t6- t8). Once the p rimal pair sinned , however, all this became impossible. Two enormous punishments interrupted the harmonious souljbody relationship: sexual pleasure and death. After t he sin in t he gard en, both for Adam and Eve and fo r ever)' generation rhereafter, procreation had to wait for the "'stirrings o f lust": involun tary, rhus sha me-prod ucing, cam al appetite (9.JOA0-4t). And o f co urse. ever since Adam and Eve, each soul was torn, unwilling and w1happy, from its native home, the fles hly body, by death (9-J2A2). When Augustine again ca kes up t hese issues in City of God, he speaks noc only of what physical sex in che garden should have been like had Adam a nd Eve not sinned so soon (book fiftee n) but also o f whac beatitu de ac the end of time would be like, when t he souls o f che saints are reun ited with their fleshly bodies. As Christ had ascended in his risen flesh, so too would the saints> restored co their bodies, rise co heaven (book twenty-two). T here t hey would experience t ha t greatest possible joy: rhe unmediated knowledge o f God. No more words. No more symbols. No more books. No more interpretatio n. In eternity>no more time. This happy ending-che ultimate marriage o f the Bib le's history o f salvation and the metaphysics o f Neoplatonisrn-drives Au-

3.48 •

AIJClUSTISt! AND THf! JEWS

gustine to the edge of vib rating paradox, because he insisrs th at the saints will have this knowledge in the flesh. But how can physical bod ies see t hat which has a bsolutely no body of a ny sort, namely God the father? "The sain ts will see God in the body: b ut whether rhey will see rhrough the eyes of t he body, in t he same way t hat we now see the sun, moon, starst sea a nd earth and aJI the rh ings o n th e e.arrh- that is no easy question" (City of God 12.29). Jesus' saying in rhe Gospel of Matthew might imply bodily vision: "Blessed are the pure in heart, for rh ey shall see God" (Matt hew s:S), but Pau l's saying, "we shall see God face co face" certainly does not imply t hat God has a face (• Corinth ians 1J 12). \Vhatever and however, Augustine concludes. The one cer rainry is that rhe sainrs will rest eternally, body and soul, with God (Gty ofGod 21-JO). Augustine's arguments in Against Fausn.ts in defense ofJews and judaism-God 's choice and ap proval of Israel Sfftmdtuu cdrnem; the positive significance especiaiJy of b lood sacrifices and of circumcision; the n-ad itional, fleshly Judaism of Jesus and of h is apostles, includ ing Paul-are all discrete points within t his much larger, even more intel lectua.lly a mbitious undertaking: co retrieve and co defend rhe positive rh eological stat us of the fles h. T he values native ro la te Platonism fought against his p roject. So d id traditional Christian rhetoric, especially traditional cont:m Jud<Jeos rheroric, as Fa ust us so amply demonstrated in his Capitula. \Vit hin that discou rse, Aesh was too often bad and defective and dangerous; Aesh was too '"j ewish." But rh e orthodox doctr ines of Creation, Augustine insisted, and of Incarnation and of Resurrection compelled the effort. This effort served many of Augustine's projects, both exegetical and rheological. It gave him a way co bind the Old Testament and the New Tesra menr together into a single grand narrative of salvation. It steadied his attempts to devise a t heory of reading) one whose fra me of reference was h uman time) th us historical time. It enabled him, with in a very small pe riod of years (perhaps monrh s), ro reverse his earlier u nderstandings of how jesus a nd t he Pharisees had each observed Torah (p. 255 above). It supported him>against jerome, in h is reading of Galatians and in his understanding of the profound Jewish ness of the church's fou nding generation, jews and Gentiles both 4

4

'" Sfa)' Them Not . • . " · 339

(p. 299 above). And it even provided h im with a way to regard conremporary jewish observance as God·given 1 as God-protected, and as good for c.he chu rch. By wanting to value "flesh'1 positively, Augustine carne to value "Jew•· and '"judaism'' positivel)'· His stun n ingly original teaching on jews and j udaism was one of th e strongest, brig htest t h reads in this ino·icace patcern of mutually sup po rting associations chat he wove to consn·uct his entire theology.

Texts and Time Sin made human fles h mortal, thus ''narrative'': the life of fallen man as she now moves through time has a beginnin~ a midd le1 and an end. And sin made hu man knowing ''narrative,"' dependent upon sequence and memory to achieve a n inexact apprehension med iated through signs, be th ose signs actions or words. \Ve have seen how Augustine grap pled \lit h these ideas, whether he though t about texts (Cbristian Tea
)40 · AU(iiJSTINE ANI) THS JEWS

.scripture in both its Hebrew and irs Greek recensio ns. For this reason, rh e Sepruagin t takes precedence over any other Greek rendering, d ivinely authorized as it was through the miracle o f the seventy-two a uth ors' inspired translation. ln those many p laces where its Greek differs undeniably fi·om its Hebrew, Augustine thus concluded, this d ifference is aJso due ro the Holy Spirit, and vice versa: Anything in the Hebrew char is not in the Greek "is so1nething which the Spirit of God d ecided co say not through t he translators but through t he prophets." There are no mistra nslationst only a plenitude o f meanings, divinely intended fo r d iffe rent audiences: to the jew fi rst (primarily through rhe Hebrew) and also ro rhe Greek (for whose ultimare benefic, mainrai ned Augustine, the Septuagint was made). Seen fi·om this point of view, Ptolemy's t ranslato rs, those legendary Jewish sages sent from Jerusalem to render the Hebrew Bible into Greek, had served as prophets co the gentile church (Cit)• ofGad t8-42-43).

Hisror)' and Revelation What happens when the ten1po ral na rrative of history lines up wirh rhe prophetic narrarive of the Bible? Can rhe action of God be d iscerned in contemporary events? O n this q uestion Augustine sustained a p rofoun d chan ge of mind. In Ag.1inst Faustus, and in many other wridngs of a pproximately the same period, Augustine had voiced his excited conviction chat the world , t hrough the agency of the empire, was living through a longforetold moment in t he histo ry o f salvatio n: the Gentiles• destruction of their own false gods. The sur prise of govern ment-o rchestrated antipagan coercion. put in place by the empero r Honorius, spurred Augustine to pronounce excitedly that ancient aJtars were being destroyed seamdum propbeticatn veritatem ("according to p rophetic cruth.,). Pro phets in lsraeJ•s a ncient scriptures had spoke n of the Genriles' destroying their ido ls a nd abando ning their f.tlse gods as a n apocalyptic act, achieved at the end o f rime, when God would reveal h imself in glo ry and establish his kingdom (p. 35 a bove). Now, in 399, t he closing of pagan temples in Carthage confirmed for Augustine ch at the emp ire•s government, within the quotid ian, enacted God's

"'SI
will. Recen t events should cotwince any pagan of th e t ru t h of the church, Augustine declared> o nce he was shown the ancient script for this destruction, namely, the books of t he j ews. Such a man would see t hese same kings of che earch now happil}' subdued b}' Christ . .. and he would hear che words of che psalm in whtch chis was predicred so long ago: "All the kings of t he earth shall bow down to him; all rhe nations shall serve him» (Ps.aJm 72:!0). . . . And readjng whac was satd in chis p.saJm abom Christ and abour hts Church, he would fi nd thac what was foretold chere is fulfilled now. . . . He would see che idols of the nacions perishing fro m the earch. and he would find char jet·emiah had predicted this . . . . "In t hat da)','' said Isaiah, 1ca man shall throw away his abominations of gold and of silver" (Isaiah 2:20). AGMNS.,.FAU:H'US tj.7

It was for t his very purpose, Augustine continued, that God, through Rome, had sent Is rael with their boo ks in to exile. Otherwise, Ch ris· tians would have reason to fear that pagans would accuse them o f having forged such prophecies "once the events t hat they describe were al ready occurring, . _.., wet•e ic nor for rhe Jews. WideI)' dispe!'sed and widely mal'ked, rhe)' are Cain, who !'ecetved hts sign so chat no one \vould ki11 him; rh ey are Harn, t he slave of h is bt·orhers, bearing chose books fo r his b!'Ochet·s' instrucrion. F!'om rhese same books we prove char chese chings \Vere nor writ ten by us ro fit che rimes. T hey wet·e published long ago in rhe Jews• kingdom, and preserved as prophecies; and now rhey are made manifest and fulfilled . . .

''fo1· these rhtngs happened ro them as an example, bm rhey were wdrren down for us> 111 whom rhe end of rhe ages has come"

(1 Cortnthians JO:n). A(i.\/N$1' f'AVSTVS tj.IO

Caught up in ch e moment>Augustine identified God's purposes with Rome's policies. But unlike these a ncient pro phets (and unlike

)42 • AUOUSTINl! AND T I-t!! JEWS

many o fh is co ntempo ra ry co -religio nists), Augustine was nm thinking apocalyptically. The church's triumph did not sig nal the end o f time, but a SJ'<'cial quality of the times-ideas that Tyconius' work had helped him to think (p. 424, n. 2t, below). Funher, Augustine's division of time into the "cosmic week" calmed Paul's apocalyptic pronouncement in 1 Corjnthians considerably. By definition, t he "'sixt h age" o f the universe had already begun with the coming of Christ. It would e nd only wit h h is Second Coming. How long would this current period be· tween his fi rst and second advents last? That was unknowable and unknown: All t hat could be asserted with ce rtainty was t hat th e last age had already commenced (Against Ftmstus 12.14). In the indefinite meanwhile, however, believers could savor the gospel's triu mph, indeed its vindication. "\Ve have seen Christian empero rs, who have put all t heir confidence in Christ, gaining splendid victories over ungodly en emies who hoped in idols and the worship of demons" (Agaimt Fa11stt1.< 22.;>6). \Vhen voicing these views, Augustine sounds m uch like an earlier bishop, Constantine's contemporary a nd "biographer;• Eusebius of Caesarea. Eusebius had lived at a n equally heady moment when after J l2 c.E. the chu rch became the startled recipient o f Constantine's largesse. Stopping anti-Christian persecution, Constantine threw h imself into h is new ro le as rhe patron of the chu rch, endowing basilicas, underwriting episco pal expenses, convening councils, commissioning copies of Bib les. Commenc-ing o n Constantine's elaborate (and expensive, and ambitious) program o f pub lic b uild ing in jerusalem, Eusebius rhapsodized t hat it seemed as if"the glory of the God o f Israel" had re· m rned to its ancient seat.'' Perhaps this is t he new a nd second jerusalem 1

ann ounced in the p ro phetic oracles" (Life ofCtmstnlltit~e 3-33). As Augustine would later do, Eusebius fram ed contemporary events by using and reinterpreting fo rmerly apocalyptic prophecies. And this prophetic perspective netted Eusebius two advantages. First, it enh anced t he p rescige o f his patron, promoting in biblical accents the belief that the supreme ruler o n earth enjoyed very close relations wi th the supreme ruler in heaven. Such a view of the ruler's special status, regarded skeptically in modern democracies when elected oflicia]s make sim ila r daimsJ was deeply traditional to Ro man political culture. \Vh ac was new after 312 was not these claims' being tnade for the

"Sfa)' Them Not • . . " · 3·H

emperor but rhe identity of t he cultural insrimrion making these claims: the church and her bishops. which nmv cook their place in chis chorus of praise alongside the more traditional pa negyrists, oracles> cit)' councilors, and Roman senators. Second, by ap propriating apocalyptic prophecies for such present-day> nonapocalypric events, Eusebius also challengeAu· gustine robed h is church•s resort to violence in ch e mantle o f biblicaJ precedent. The Donarists co mplained chat coercion was un-Christian: "\X'irh whom did Christ ever use force? \Vhom does he co mpel?" Augustine readily produced Ch ristian models. "See, they have rhe apostle Pa ul. Let t hem acknowledge in him Christ's firsr using force: and afterwards teaching, first striking and afterwards consoling... . \X'h)' then should t he church not force her lost child ren to retllrn?" (Utter

l8j.6,1.!, written c. -P7~ Augustine had already poin ted co Pa ul's ''conversion'' as a New Testament example of divine coercion in Against

Famtus 22.70). Christ, too, in t he para ble of t he great banquet, had ordered his servants to "compel'' tarrying invitees to join th e feast. The divine take-home message was clear: "Disobed ience meers with coercion" (Luke 14:23; Lettet· 18).6,4). To Donatisrs, the coercion of t he Christian Ro man Empire looked a nd felt very much like the earlier coercion of ch e pagan Roma n Empire. Augustine was unirn pressed. Both Pharaoh and Moses had "coerced " JsraelJ but t heir reasons and their

)44 · A U(iiJS TIN E ANI) THS JEWS

goals co uld not have been more d ifferent, though their means> to a n outsider, might look the same.!! His defense of the O ld Testament against Faustus had equipped Augustine very well to defend religious coercion against rhe Donatists. Just because two actors seem to behave rhe same way, he had also insisted against the 1\·lan ichee, shared external resemblances cann ot establish a common in ternal morality. Both pagan a nd Jewish sacrifices looked alike, but they had absolutely differem origins and absolutely differenr e nds (Ag"in.
"Sidy Them Not . .. " · J4.5

eschatologically opaque: They could not be matched wich scriptural prophecy to indicate anything of the d ivine plan. However certain in their faith, Christians could never be certain of their circu mstances. For th e period of time that stood outside the biblical canon, h istory's patterns and the ul timate significance o f events, like God's standards o f justice, were ocmltissimi as weU.~! Augustine unrolled t his somber vision in t he t\venl)'·t\vo books o f his Ci~ ofGod. The who le was u nited by his pursuit of a single theme: the history of love. Ever since Cain and Abel, he said, all hurnanity has been divided between rwo great cities, according to t he o rienta tion o f their love. Those who love carnal, lower th ings (and, most insidious o f itas termra, the "earth ly city," Babylo n. all, themselves) belo ng to t he cit> Those who love God belo ng to rhe heavenly ciry,Jerusalem a bove, t he city of God. Augustine's a rgu ment cakes these t\VO cities o f a pocalyp· tic traditio n. Jerusalem and Babylon, a nd transmutes t hem in to two o pposed moral communities existing together, indefin itely mixed> wit hin time. \'Vandering in the exile of h istory, h u manity has been sep· a rated from its d istan t, heavenly homeland by rhe fi rst sin o f the fi rst man, Ada m; by the weig ht of o riginal sin, \vhich aftlicts every generation t hereafter, disordering human love and>t herefore, h uman society~ by the vast river of time, flowing o n into a fu ture o f unknowab le d uration. The citizens of God 's city live in this world as p ilgrims and as strangers; peregriiJi, "resident aliens." The home chat t hey yearn for, t he glorious cicy promised to them and, th rough Christ, won fo r t hem) lies beyond history>s horizon.!-! It is to tell t his tale of two cities that Augusrjne, la te in life> sacrifices his elaborately developed typo logy of Cain as a figure fo r rhe exiled Jews. He does so in part because Genesis 4:17 so well obliges his new idea. After mu rdering Abel, Cain ''\vent away fro m God's face,'' serried east o f Eden, and p roceeded to "build a city." An other ci ty, Rome, Auguscine immediately remarks, was also founded after fratricide, when Romulus killed Remus. Both Roman brothers were citizens o f t he earthly ciry, contending fo r power and g lory. No such struggle fo r sovereignty explai ns the history o f t he primal brothers, ho\vever, "for Abel d id not aim at power in t hee icy which his brother was founding. Bur Cain felt t he d iabolical envy rhat t he wicked feel for rhe good

)46 · AUG USTI NE A~U THE J I:WS

simply because they are good, while they themselves are evil." The struggle bet\veen Romulus and Remus demonstrated how citizens of r.he earthly cicy strive against each other. The fighr between Cain and

Abel, by co ntrast, "displayed the hostility between the two cities themseh•es, the city of God and the city of men'' (City of God 15-5). Augustine goes on to ponder the motivations of the good and of

rhe wicked, minutely analyzing the language of Genesis 4 to understand how Cain's sullenness, caused by God's accepting Abel's offering but not his, led him first co en\-)'> then to rage, and finally to

violence (City of God ' 5-7)- The well-worn verses fro m Romans 9 preface this investigation>as Augustine reminds himself and his readers of God 's decisio ns when distinguishing t•the vessels of wrath from the

vessels of mercy by a deeply hidden yet just dispensatio n known o nly co himself" (Ci~· ofGod 15.6). God had warned Cain to master the sin that lurked in wait fo r him, but Cain did not do so (Genesis 4'7)- His jealousy o nly grew stronger, until at last he mw·dered his brother. "Such was the man who founded rhe earthly city/' Augustine con· d udes. (The line of the heavenly city is established o n earth by the

slaughtered Abel's replacement, Seth; Genesis 4:25; City of God 1).15)But before Augustine proceeds co the rest of Genesis. he mentionsalmost in passing-one last thing about Cai n. '1He also .symbolizes the

Jews by whom Christ was slain, that shepherd of the human flock who was prefigured by Abel, rhe shepherd of the flock of sheep. But rhis is a matter of prophetic allegory, so 1 will not explain it here. Besides, l recaU that I said something on this point in my book Against

FaiiStm" (City of God '5-7)Cain's role as the founder of rhe earrhly city placed him solidly at the earliesr parr of biblical and universal history1 and Augusrine

wanted to leave him rhere. City ofGod, following the sequence ofbiblical books as it does, has a strong narrative line) one chat typology, wirh its energetic back-and-forth between rhe testaments, risked muddying. But the main reason why Augustine released Cain from service as a figure for
and emotional q uali ty of"wandering" and of"exile." Back in the glory days at rhe tum of the fourth to the fifth century, the new initiatives

of the blooming Christian kingdom made an apposite co ntrast to the

..Slay Tbem Not . . • ,. · )47

jews' humi1iating loss, centu ries earlier, of their own kingdom. Au· gustine's rhetoric had emphasized thac conrrasr. At rhac point; and for a long while thereafter, Cain t he exiled fratricide aptly symbolized both the jews' crime a nd t heir permanenc punishmenr. And Augus· tine's deeply o riginal interpretation of t he ma rk of Cain thar p ro· tected Cain in his exile adroidv commun icated the rich mix o f ideas ' thac Augustine associated with his theological construction of Jewish law and Jewish p ractice: d ivine origins, distinctiveness~ visibility, a fo rm of p ublic pedagogy. Even after h is discovery of Psalm 59:12, Augustine's interpretive ce nter of gravity remained Genesis 4:15: Both in his rwo earlier sermons a nd in his letter to Paulin us. he elucida ted t he psalm by referring, exp licit!)', to Cain (pp. 324-327 a bove). Cain drops out when Augustine quotes Psalm 59:12 only in his two Iacer, undared sermons; and J th ink t hat rh is is so because Augustine delivered them only after he had conceived and become committed to his vision in City of God. The great rh eme of that \vork is wandering. The longing for home and the acute sen se of d isplacement defines rh e experience and the identity of the Ch ristian and not) as in so many o f Augustine's earl ier writings> the experience and the identity of t he "Jew." Cain the fi·atrkidal w·anderer would have co n fused this plaintive and morally positive image of Augustine's wandering citizen·s.ainr so· journing in rime> far from his heaven ly home. Thus. Cain, resolutely earth-bound, becomes the firsr to build a city; and the city t hat he fo unds is the civitds t.ernma, "th e earthly ciry, which longs fo r earth l)' joys" (Ci9• of God 15.15).'' Accordingly, when in book eighreen of City of God Augustine finall)' takes up t he birth a nd death of jesus, and thus the fare of the jews, Cain makes no appea rance. But all of Augustine's earlier ideas thar he had develo ped against Faustus are t here: rhe missing kingdom, the visible practices> the permanent blindness, the unwitting servi· tude, t he ancient testimony, the divine immunity to ethnic death, t he broadest possible d ispersion ofjews and t heir books co aid a nd to amplifY t he broadesr possible dissemination o f t he gospel. Everyching but Cain reappears in book eighteen. In his a bsence, Augustine hangs all of these ideas, orig inal ly generated from his reading of Genesis>from the hook of Psalm 59:12.

)48 • .\UGUSTII'li ANO Ti l E J EWS

The jews who killed hun and who refused ro believe in him . . . were disp
... had a knack for finding and deploying good proof rexrs. And his identifying such proof texts-a pirhy scriptural sound bice condensing a much larger complex of rheological ideas-often came co nsiderably after he conceived and developed AUGUSTINE TIH! MAST ER Of RHETO RIC

"'Sitt)' Them Not .. . " · 349

the ideas that they served to su m up. It was in th e late 390s, when he wrote To Simplidanus and immediately thereafter, Confossiom, that Au· gustine first rei magined t he relad on of divine grace and hu man will so thar the initiat ive of salvatio n rested solei),. and entirely wit h God: God turns the sin ner toward h imself (see p. 188 above). Only later, after 411, did he d iscover Proverbs 8:35· ''The will is p repared by t he Lord." He used it repeated!}' thereafter. His belief char all human ity was in sorne real way"in Ada m,'' voiced a t the curning poin t of his debate with For· tunaws back in 392, larer spurred Augustine's co nce ptualization o f o riginal sin when he squared off againsc the idea of fi·ee will promulgated by Pelagius. Eventually, Romans 5:12 ("Ada m ... in whom all sin ned..) would serve as his slogan fo r this teaching, but rhe verse itself had played no co nspicuous role a t eirher formative stage of h is thinking about sin and Adam, whether early (against Fortunatus) o r lare (against Pelagius).» These observations should provide some purchase when we assess Augusti ne's use of"Siay t hem nor." \Vith in his own lifetime and rhus within the contemporary context o f h is own works1 Psalm 59:12 never had chis status as a major proof text in his a rsenal He had co me to it too late, well after he had already coordinated all of those b iblical, theo logical, and h istorical ideas about the jews and rheir continuing role in t he Christian commonwealth around the figure of Cain. By t he time that he found Psalm 59, he did not need it; when he did use it1 he usually used it together with Genesis 4· Only wichin the specific context of the latter half of City of God rud Augustine finally relinquish Cain as a type o f the Jews. His much larger idea of che heavenly pilgrim•s earrh l)' exile demanded it. His o ther two sermons- also late and, within Augustine's own lifetime, relatively unimportan t- reflect this decision thac t he much grander City of God had dictated. Th us it was o nly when Augustine p resented his theological <1jews, there, and never in any of his earlier writings. that Psalm 59:1 2 assu med irs sta nd· alone posture. In later Christian t radition) and even more frequently in modern scholarship, PsaJm 59:12 does loom large as the Augustinian proof text a bo ut jews and j udaism. This is so, in borh instances. fo r the same rea· son: precisel}' because of its placement in Ci~' ofGod. That work is one

J)O • AU
of the abiding masterpieces of late Latin rh eology) and it went on to exerr a huge and formative influence on \X'e.srern med ieval culture. When later C hristians during the Middle Ages wan red to summon Augustine's authority fo r a statement chat the),. wan red ro make about Jews, Psalm 59:12 as presenred in City of God stood ready to hand. Bur chis verse will not help u.s if we want to understand the birch and development of Augustine's theology of jews and j udaisrn o n its own terms) within his own lifetin1e> and within the specific context, social a nd inreJiecrual, o f late Latin Ch ristian ity in Roman antiquity. For chat p roject-how Augustine t houghr about jews and Judaism, not hmv later Christians thought abour Augustine on rhe Jews- Against Ft~tutu.s is the essent ial text. lr is the texr in which all of h is mosr original ideas on chis topic come together most fully and for the first time. In its citations of Faustu s' Capitula, it provides us with a rare a nd valua ble look ar a noth er commun ity o f late Latin Chriscian.s, Norrh Africa's Man ichees, against whose moral concerns and texrual practices Augustine pitched so much of his mat uring theology, includ ing his radically in novative theology of judaism. It acq uaints us in unexpected ways with the issues at stake-textual, ethical, doctrinal, ritual, social, political-when late-fo urth-cenrury Christian s imagined and con.srructed their contesting identities. It aftOrds us a clear look a t hmv these co ntesting Chrisdan.s used ''Jews" a nd the adtterStiS ludaeos rhetoric wh en they fought with each ocher. And finally (
"Slay Tbrm .'f\'or . .. " • JS•

n1atter how h idden that justice may be. As a metaphor for humanil)'> this image of the massa ultimately overrode t he significance> even rhe ut ility, of the terms 'J ew" and "Gentile" wirh in Augustine's thought. After Adam's sin>he wrote> d1e whole of mankin d ts a condemned lump> fo r he who com· mirred rhe first sin \Vas pun ished, and along with him all rhe stock which had irs roots in him. The result is char rhere is no escape for an}'One fro m rhis JUsdy deserved punishment, except by merciful and undeset·ved gt and those in whom is shown the might ofjusr retribution. Neit her of rhese could be d isplayed in respecr of all mankind, fol' if all had remained condemned . . . t hen God 1s merd ful grace would not have been seen.,. and 1f all had been rransfel'red fro m darkness ro lighr, rhen the trut h of God-'s vengeance would nor have been made evidenr. Ma1ry nwre are condenmed b)' tJt"ngt\1t:Ci? th..1n are

rekased b)' mercy. CI'I'YOFQOD 2 1.1 2

Augustine's idea of eternity> with its Neoplatonic embellish ments a nd irs ra ised fles hly bodies, is peculiarly Christian. \X'ithin t hat co ntext, ch e defining distinction is between the saved few an d the damned many: "Jew" and "Gentile" disappeared. But when considering not ererniry bur hisrory (borh p;m a nd present), Augustine rhoughr as people within a ncient Med iterranea n culture had a lways th ought: Humans a re defined by the gods that they worship. Resrated in biblical idiom> this idea defin es the d ifference between Israel and rhe nations~ t he differe nce, before Christianity, between Gent iles and Jews. And h ere, as he argued against Faustus, Christians and je\vs formed one community over against pagans a nd heretics> beca use (tr ue) Christians, like Jews, worshiped the One God (p. l?f> a bove). Thus against jerome no less t han against Faustus, Augustine insisted that jews were nor a challenge to Christianity but a witness to it. In their allegiance to their ancestral practicest he asserted, the jews unknowingly confirmed th e church's claim to their scriptures. (Th ei r

Jjl • AUOUST I Nl! ANI> T I.. E JEWS

having these texts in Hebrew conferred no advantage~ and when read ing and living by a book-by God's book-interpretation is all.) Augustine's "witness doctrine/' in short, fundamentally addressed questions of rh eology and identiry inrernal ro his own commun i(}'· Augusrine had lit rle reason to think that his ideas o n this topic would some day, in their turn, be inrerpreted "literaHy." He lived in a society governed by Roman law, wherein Jews were srill citizens. All rh is changes as Euro pean sociery alters in th e wake o f the western Roman Empire's demise. Neverth eless, because of Augustine•s tremen· dous a uthority, his "witness doctrine:· mediared through Ci~y of God, bec.ame parr o f that erudite traditio n through which patrisric learning shaped Western Chr isrian t hought. In the changed social contexc of medieval Ch ristendom, Augustine's invocation of Psalm 59, inter preted literally, ultimately would safeguard Jewish lives. But t hat is a story of another time, for another time. 4

EPIL OGUE

All things are forektJoumJ a1Ul man has free choice. (1/J!Kf( Al'OT (E:T!ii<.:S OF T I.. IS F.\TH IHtS) J, l j

W ere Augustine's thought is most characteristically "Augustinian"- in his a pproach to biblical interpreta tion) and to in terpretation more generally~ in h is ideas abou t the flesh, and about its relation to spiri t; in his thoughrs on the nature of time, and of histo ry, ro eternity; in h is understand ing o f sin 1 and of the mystery of salvation; in his views o n the incarnatio n and resurrection of Christ-\\'e find him thinking with "Jews." The ways that he depended on "Jews'• as a fu ndamental element in his broader rheology enabled h im> indeed pe rhaps co mpelled him, to play t he stunning variations thac he did o n the themes of rhe older contra Judaeos tradition. But are rhetoric and rheology, imporcant though these are, all that he fi nally leaves us with? Can V.'e move beyond t he rhetoric to see a measure of social reality? Is there any way to know how Augustine though t and felt, not a bo ut rhetorical ''Jews/' but about h is actual Jewish contemporaries? As we have already seen) what Augu stine says a bo ut rh eological a nd rheroricaJ Jews) whether positive o r negative, cann ot be read as direct evidence to help us settle this questio n (see p p. 26r- 307 above). \V'hat can and does help us, hov.rever, is something that he does not say. But to appreciate t he meaning o f chis significant silence, we must first situate it, albeit b riefly, within its significant context: three episodes o f violent religio us repressio n that occurred d uring rh e middJe years of Augu stine's episcopacy. The fi rst was the imperially spo nsored coercio n o f North African pagans. T he second was rhe duress inflicted o n Dona tist Christians by church and state acting in conce rt. And t he third-for which we have unnervingly excellent primary testimony-was rh e forced conversio n to catholic C h ristianity

J:H · Epilogue

of the 540 Jewish residents of Magona> one o f two cities o n the island ofMinorca.

• •• 399 and co t he religious coercion o f pagans {p. 340 above). The empero r's initiative, directed against the great temple o f Juno Caelestis in Carthage, served co inspire acts o f Christian vandalism elsewhere in North Africa. Bad feeling simmered a nd urban violence irregularly erupced for years t hereafter, and o ut raged pagans sometimes pushed back hard. (Sixty Christians were killed in Su fes, payback fo r t heir destruction o f t he town 's statue of Hercules; Lettn· 50.) And yec, as we have seen, Augustine rrumpets this moment as if it were an un mitigated victory for the church. He musters Old Testament a uthorities, drap ing current events in p rophetic glory. He boasts to enemies and to friends alike-Fa usrus o n the o ne hand; his co ngregation ar Hip po o n the other (Agaimt Famtm IJ.?- JO; Se,.mon 22.4)-rhar God's ancient promises were being fulfilled in t heir own day. Even the violence on both sidesl even the loss o f li fe, d id not disrurb his confi· dent conviction t hat t hese acts of religious repression were profoundly right. Abo u t ch e religious coercion of pagans) in brief, Augustine evinces not the slightest qualm.l It was t he Donatists, however, who p resented rhe single g ravest challenge to the local hegemony of catholic Christianity, a challenge more pointed than chat of any o ther community in North Africa. They had the nu mbers o n t he ground and were present in force in t he ci ties and in the many small towns of Roman Africa's h interlands. Their WE R6TURN TO T HE YE:\R

clerical hierarchy d u plicated rhat o f the imperia] church. to which they offered a specifical ly African alrernariw. Fu rther, t hey co uld a ppeal to that t raditional heroic sta ndard o f spirit ual excellence: stal\vart perseverance in time o f persecudon, whether the persecu ting e n1pire be pagan o r Christian. The catholic hierarchy had to move against chis formidable rival. llur rhey had to do so carefully-especially o nce they allied with in1perial fo rce-lest they seem to be the aggressors, and so reinfo rce the Donatisrs' self presentation as the church of the martyrs (and rhus as t he "true" church).' 4

n,. imperial church prosecu ted irs case thoroughly and wirh con-

Epilogut · JS5

summate political skill, and Augustine himself took a very active role in these proceed ings. Already in 393, he worked with Aurelius, b ishop of Carthage, to coordinate a vigorous program of anti·Donatist •· pub· lie relations1' : p reaching and teaching o n the o ne hand, writing letcers o f collegia] courtesy to Donatist bishops and circulating invitations to pub lic debate o n the ocher. Once the emperor Ho norius stepped into the fray, however, he changed the local calculus of power. In 405, the emperor posted his Edict of Uniry to Carthage. From t hat time o n, through th e a ppJication of prejudiciaJ laws, Donatists were actively en· coUI-aged ro rejoin rh e "true" church. Catholic clergy, meanwhile, as· su med control o f t he Donarist churches, both rhe buildings and t he congregations~ Donatisr bishops had the options of submission, arrest, o r exile. The noncompliant, fi nal!)', would th enceforth be regarded as hereticsJ and thus subject to the same legal disab ilities as heretics. The fi rst, diplomatic stage of the campaign \Vas over) As with African pagans, so wirh t hese African Christians: Some complied, others grudgingly acquiesced. A radical fri nge drawn from those who resisted, however, pushed back violently, destroying catholic churches and occasionaJiy mmilating and even mu rdering catholic clergy. The catholic chu rch responded with the power of the catholic scare~ more bloodshed, including execu tions, resulted. Both communides slowly settled down into a situation of en-atica11y waged civil \\rar. Finally, in 410, Honorius posted a nother o rder: "\Y/e abolish the new superstition and \1/e command that the regulations in regard to catholic law be preserved unimpaired and inviolate" {Throdosian Code t6.1L.J). Summoned to Carthage the following year, 285 Donatist bishops confronted 286 Catholic bishops to plead t heir case before a n a ppointed imperial officer, himself a loyal catholic. The conclusion was never in doubt: The officer fo und in favor of the catholics. This latest turn of the screw increased the pressure of hostile law on Donatist laymen as well as o n clergy. Armed resistance in t he coun tryside persisted, sometimes t ra nsmuting into defiant suicides: Jn one effort to persuade an imperial agent co desist, the Donatist bishop of Timgad, together with his entire congregation, even threatened to burn their basilica down around themselves:! The repression of the Donatisrs signaled the catholic clergy's un-

JSG • EptlogtH.>

ambivalent embrace of the coercive power that Ho norius had so suddenly made available co them. Both as a tireless straregist and as a commitred anti-Donatist campaigner, Augustine actively availed him self of this unprecedented oppo rtuniry. But he went much further, framing a cheologicaJ justification fo r rhe use of force thar intimardy linked h is long-held views o n sin and vitiated hu man will to the pasco ral obligations of the church. Al ready against Faustus, Augustine had argued thar a coercive action in itsel f could be neither good nor bad: l ts moral q uality cohered with rhe inrentions of its agene. Force applied o ur of love and coward a good end co uld never be morally wro ng. God h imself had sec rhe example, whether when d isciplin ing Israel fo r their own salvatio n o r when wresting Paul away fro rn the Pharisees and claiming him for the church. How, then, could the church countenance doing any less now fo r the wayward Donatists, especially since the means to effecr such discipline, thanks to the empero r, lay so ready to hand? Communion was no guarantee of salvation, as Augustine himself was the first to admir. T he cdtholica) no community of saints, existed as a diverse collecrivity chat included many sinners as \veil. (This idea of rhe church as a corpus permixtwn had come to Augustine fro m his great Donatist rnentor, Tyco nius; p. 158 above.) Jnside the church, however, s.alvation was ar least a possibility, while o utside the church there could be no salvation. This distinction between salvation's necessary and sufficient conditions mirrored for Augustine rhe distinction between the church's divinely mandated responsibilities and God•s sovereign, and secret, decisio ns abour election. In sum, Augustine is even harder o n nonconforming Christians than he was o n pagans. He suffered no misgivings about the applicatio n of fo rce in the o ne instance; in the o ther, he actually urged coercive action. To rebuke religiously errant Christians) if necessary by force, was a dear and sacred duty. The co nscientious pastor, like the co nscientious father, must apply such "discipline" fo r rhe ulrimate well-b
EptlogtH' · 357

Christians. The pattern of such hostilities followed the broad lines o f sacred vio lence described in the Bible, which Augustine saw as prescribed by the llible. In t he church's Old Testament, God had explicitly condemned the worship of idols, com manding Israel to extirpate such practices from the Land; in the chu rch's New Testamen t, Paul had full-hean edly repeated rhis condemnarion. And God was no less intoleran t of deviant p raccices on the pare of his people: His d esignated scriptural spokesmen- holy men, priests> kings, and prophetsunceasing ly repudiared cultic diversity within Israel, jusr as Paul, the evangelists' jesus>and rhe amhors of other New Testament rexcs repudiared diversities of practice and belief wirhin rhe early chu rch. If Chris dan monarchs b rought rhe coercive power of the Chr istian stare against pagans and against heretics, rhose exrernal and in ternal enemies of Chr istian nuth, they did God's work: Augustine found inn umerable scriptu ral precedents for such initiatives. Bu t where in scripture did God advocate the repression of Judaism itself ? And how did Augustine regard rhe fo rced conversions ofjews?

••• beC\veen late Roman Christians and jews in the fou rth and fifrh centuries is as star tling ly inconsistent for t he entire empire, eastern and western, as it is fo r the island of Minorca in 418 c.E. On the one hand, reports begin ro accrue fro m vario us corners o f the Roman world describing the seizure o r destruction o f synagogues and the fo rced expulsion or baptism ofjewish communities. On the other hand, contemporar}' Jews do not act as if they feel margina1ized: They maintain enormo us and exquisite co mmunity structures in the heart of Ro man cities; they mock jesus (rhus Christianity) openly, ro che poinr of provoking w·ban riots; and in o ne eastern city, Laoclicea, they even physicall)' abuse a local archdeacon. The language and the subsrance o f imperial law also pull in at least two directions. In the 71Jrodosian Code, rheto rical hu miliation o f t his "nefarious" and ''Lm-Roman sect/' and occasional hostile legislation aimed particularly at converts to Judaism, sit cheek by jowl with imperiaJ orders to respect jewish persons 1 places, and privileges and with imperial assertions of j udaisrn's continuing legitimacy. Finally, EVI DENCE BESP EAKING RELATIONS

JS8 · Epilogut-

rhe social and po litical prominence of some late Roman jews, and the Jewish inscri ptions that publicly proclaim the names of co nverts, sug-

gest that the laws against Jews' holding high office or against gentile (more specifically, Christian) conversio ns to j udaisrn do not reflect widespread initiarives.o Most of our relevant evidence specifically for l\·linorca comes from an encyclical letter wrirten by its bishop. Severus; and it provides1 in miniarure, a similarly complex picture. Much o f this complexity is em· bodied in the figure o f Theodo rus) the island's preeminent citizen and a fo rmer defensor civitatis ("protector of rhe city/' thus Magona's pre·

mier magistrate). Emperors had established this office back in the jGOs. The defensor was charged with expediting local legal cases and with e nsuri ng some measure o f justice ro the poor. In 4091 the emper 4

ors added a fu rther refinement: Holders of such office, they decreed, had to

be men "imbued with the sacred nl)'Steries o f o rthodox reli-

gion"-in other words, catholic Christians (Code ofjustinian l.jj.S). At some point duri ng the decade between rhe establishment of this lase law and the religious vio lence o f 418, b)' consent o f the d ry

councilors together with the major local landholders and the bishop, Theodo rus had served Magona as irs defensor. By then) noted Severus, Theodon iS had "already fulfilled all the (other] duties of the town council."' In 417-4181 the incumbent defensor was his kinsman) Caecilianus, a tlir bonestus and praecipttH.S ("a preeminent man of rank"'; Letter

of Sevems 011 the Conversio11 of the }et11s 19.6). T hrough the interlocking links of marriage, social status, land, and wealth> their family's con·

necrions extended far, perhaps to the highesr levels of the imperial government. Bur these rwo men also held high office within another commu-

nity: their synagogue. Distinguished for his learning as well as for his presrige and his largesse, Theodon iS was also the leader of his ethnic/ religious community, its pater pawron ("F..rher of fathers") as well as its Mctvr legis ("teacher of the Law"; Letter ofSevems 6.2). The younger Caecilianus ranked as a pater Ju
and political ly in Magona, perhaps on Minorca in toto. And the wealthiest and most powerful man on the island) a learned and hon·

Epilogue · 359

o red pat ro n respected a nd relied on by C hristian and jew alike, was himself a jew (Letter ofSevems 6.t).' Severus, the bishop of Minorca's oth er city) Jamona, ranked \\'ell below this distinguished Jewish gentry in renns of social status and (thus) ed ucation. (To compose h is encyclical lener, he enlisted the services of a gentleman ghost writer>Consen tius, who provides us wirh a direct link to Augustine~ Letter ., r2.13.) But in the lace summer o f 416> a round the time that Severus assu med episcopaJ office, the island's Christian community unexpeccedly acquired a new and d ifferent patron: the first martyr of t he church, St. Stephen (Acts 6-7: i.Rtwr of Severus 4.1). During the previous \Vinrer, in December 4l5, Christian clergy near Jerusalem had discovered human remains and identified t hem as Stephen's. Authenticated almost instantan eously by the miracu lous cure of scores of t he afflicted faithfu l>the greater portion of Stephen's relics were moved to jerusalem. A lesser portion>th anks to a peripa tetic monk> t raveled fi rst to Norch Africa an d then co Minorca, where they were deposited in a church o utside o f Magona. As Sever us tells the story, Stephen's presence instantaneously altered ch e customarily war m relations becween Christian s and jews: hnmediacely, our comp1acency (tepor) heared up, as did out· heans which, as Scriptut'e says>•1burned in che waf' (Luke 24:32). Ac one moment, zeal for che fakh 6red us; ar anoth er moment, rhe hope of savtng a mulricude spurred us o n. In rhe end>even t he obligadon of greet ing one anocher \Vas broken off. Our old habit of easy acquaimance was disrupted and-out of love for eternal salvarion- t he harmful visibihry of our long-scanding affecuon rumed tnro remporary harred. In every public place 1 we barded against rhe jews over che law~ in every household, we foughr for che faich.

Severus exaggerates here: This " immed iate., change of atmosphere took him more than a year and a half of patient anti·Jewish preaching to effecc. Bur once he finally roused h is Aock to action, events d id move quickly. In February 418, their hostility honed, Christians from

;6o · Epilog~tt

both cities, with Severus a t their head, converged o n Magona·s jews. Jn itially demanding a public disputation, they next insisted on inspecting the synagogue, which was rumored ro h old stockpiled weapons. (The existence of such a rumor, and its evident credibility, th emselves index the success o fSe verus• preaching; in the event, however, no weapons were found: Lett· ofSewrtts 8-4-5·) Then, suddenlythough in retrospect1 he says, providentiaii)'-Severus lose control of his people. Before we reached the S)'nagogue, certain je\vish women (b}' God's arrangement, I suppose) acted 1'ecklessly a.nd1 doubtless to rouse our people fi'Om their gendeness, began ro chrow huge scones down on us fro m a highel' spot. Although these S[Ones (rnarvel· ous to relare) rained down like hail on rop of rh e dosely packed crowd~ not one of OUI' people was hanned or even touched by a direct hir. Bm at ch is poinr, rhe terrible Lion (Christ] momentarily rook away t he mi1dness fro m his lambs. \'<'hile r prorested in vail\ they all snatched up stones and 1 neglecting th e warnjng of rhei1· shepherd lSeverusJ-fol' d1ey were united in a single plan, more fronl zeal for Christ ch an from anger-rhey decided that the wolves (Jews) had to be repulsed by homs. (In facr, no one could doubt t hat t hey did this with the approval of him who a lone is the True and Good Shepherd.) . . . [T)heJews ret reated, and we gamed control of t he synagogue .. . . Fire consumed rhe synagogue itself and all its ornamems1 except for irs books and irs silver. T he sacred books we l'tJl'lO\"t>'d a nd retain ed, so that they would nor suffer a.Jl}' harm among t he Jews; bur t he silver n·e l'erumed co rhe1n, so char they would nor complain about any theft on our parr, or any loss on theirs. Thus, while the jews srood t here, srupefied by the loss of chei1· synagogue, we se[ off for rhe church ro the chancing of hymns, gi\~ng thanks ro rhe Aurhor of our \~crory. l.l:Tt'Jift OFSF.VIiiWS l j . j - I.(.J

Neglecting to mention who started rh e fi re) Severus passed on ro a review of rhe rnany drea ms, po rtents, prodigies, and m iracles that fol-

Epilogue · 361

lowed t h is day of destruction. ln the end, he relates, faced wit h t he choice of conversion o r exile. the demoralized jewish commun ity in its entirety agreed to accept baptism. consenting as well to assume the ex· pe:nse of raising a new basilica where once their synagogue had stood (Letter ofSe"'''"-' 30.2). Conclud ing on a note of enthused exhortation, Severus urged his tellow bishops to ''ta ke up Christ's zeaJ against t he jews . . . for the sake o f their eternal salvation." Severus hoped that his exemplary (and utterly illegal) actio n would serve as a "spark" whereby "t he whole earth might be ablaze wit h t he flame of love," thus con· sum ing the jewish "forest of un belief" (31.2- 4). Augustine. we now know1 was directed coward t hese events by Cons.encius, the man whose literary culrure had enab led Severus to craft his accoun t. At some point shortly after these forced conversions) sometime in the year 419, Consendus had written to Augustine, pard y a bo ut t he virtues of using force (and subterfuge) against heretics (Let· ter * 11}, a nd partly about his ro le in shaping Severus' letter o n "Stephen's" conversion of Minorca 's je\\'S (Letter *12). A hard p ragma· dsm underla)' Consenrius' words: The church, he believed, should avail itself of coercio n, because coercion worked.9 \X' hen did Augustine receive Consentius' letters? And what effect, if any, d id they have o n h is own position regarding con temporar)' j e\vs? T he chro nology of Augustin e's letters, sermo ns) and later writ· ings, now uncertain) makes precision impossible here. I have suggested in t his study t hat his two sermo ns on Psalm 59 ("Slay t hem not") and his letter from Pauli nus about t he salvation of t he jews were all writ· ten a t a bo u t t h e san1e rime, benveen rhe years 410 to 4t5~ \1/e cannot know in what sequence (Oil Psalms 59.1 and 2; Letter 121}. After Augus· tine's fi rst response to Pa ulinus went missing , his second response eventually fo llowed at some indeterminate poinr after th eir fi rst round o f correspondence (Letwr 149). How long after? As late as c. 419? Before o r after Augustine had received t hese rece ncly found letters from Con· senti us? I do nor know; and until the huge effort of a complete revi· sion of Augustinian chronology is successfully completed, I do not see how we co uld tell. But certainly, by the rime that he heard from Consentius~ Augus· tine had already witnessed the advantages to the catbolica that t he us·

;6z · EptlogtH.'

ages of coercion could bring. \X'hy not extend such salutary "discipline" to the Jews? If \1/e ca n judge from an event that occurred c. 425 in Uzalis, another Nort h African town> local Christians migh t well have endorsed such an action. \XIhen Severus' letter was read aloud th ere, the enthusiastic congregation was moved to applaud "rhe mar· wlous deeds of the glorious Stephen, accomplished on that island [MinorcaJ through the presence of his relics, for t he salvation of all of t hose Jm' who believed" (T1Je Miracl.s ofSaint Stephen 1.2). Support for such a campaign was further stimulated by Chr istian fears and hopes about the coming apocalypse, which waxed in the wake of Rome's fall in 410. According to one read ing of Paul's letter to the Romans, the Jews at last would embrace Christianity at the End o f the Age, o nce Christ retu rned. (In a n utterly ditTerent religious and culrural moment, the historicaJ Paul himself had asserted a cognate conviction.) Indeed, Bishop Severus had conjured this belief at the conclusion of his letter. E.xhorting his fellow bishops to be "zeaJous" in o rder to save Jewish souls, he cited Paul in support: "Perhaps t hat time predicted by t he Apostle has now indeed come, so that with th e ' fuJiness of the Gentiles' having come in, 'all Israel will be saved' •> (Romans n:25-26~

Lettet" ofSere-us Jl.J). And fi nally, Augustine's own theological rationale in defense of religious coercion- that the loving effort to save Donatist souls> otherwise lost, not only justified the use of force, but morally obligated the Christian leaders of both church a nd state to use such force-could easily have been extended ro embrace the je\VS as well. 1~> Bur Augustine never moved in the slightest degree in chis direction. His en1brace of che coercive power of t he state against paga ns, his advocacy of that fo rce against Donatist Christians, and h is voluble de· fense of his position on this question of force, could notconrrast more sharply with his position o n Jewish contemporaries. Jn contrast to what he does say in filvor of repressing "faiSwe have what he does not say to or about those catholics who would coerce Jews. He never p raises Consenrius. He never praises Severus. So far as v.re know. he never read Sewrus' letter aloud to his congregation in Hippo, as his fellow b ishop had read it to the church in Uzalis. Augustine, too, had dedicated a chapel to Stephen in Hippo, where the: saind),. d ust also made miracles. \Vhen

Augustine reviewed the details of these miracles, he dwelt upon the sa.inr's healings> exorcisms> and acts of charity: No contnt Jud.aeos theme sounds (Ci~ of God 21.8). Stephen, for Augustine, inspired no mission· ary effo rt directed at Hippo's jews. Severus' justification fo r coercing the Jews of Magona sounded very like Augustine's jusrification fo r coercing the Donatists of North Africa: B)' cornpelling these intimate o utsiders in, bishops co uld help them to take an essential step toward their ultimate redemption. But fo r the full course of his long episcopateJ Augustine never advocated extending such muscular pastoral care to cut-rentje\1lish communities. If, according to Augustine) Jews represented a rheologicaUy unique comrnunity vis-a-vis pagans and heretics, then in this period of late Roman religious repression, that rheological significance translated fo r Augustine into social significance as \Veil. Jews, u niquely) were a cetet~t'tmt gentil~m comtmmione diso-eti, ''a community set apart from the other natio ns" (Ag.1imt Faustm 12.lj), and the agent of their separation was God himself. Pagans and heretics rh us were rhe chu rch's respo nsibility~ the Jewish community, God's. Here, then, we co me again co the positive evidence chat helps us with our question. \Xlhat Augustine did say about Jews, both earl)' (Ag.1imt Famws) and late (City of God), remained consistent from 399 c .E. th rough to 425 c. E. and beyond. His lifcing up of the divine injunction nor to "kill'' jews alt4-'(l.YS stood in his teachings as a metaphor fo r che divinely willed freedom of currenc jewish practice. He initiall)' generated chis understanding from the mark of Cain/ God 's protec· tion of fracricidal lsrael in Genesis 4:13-15 (Ag.1inst Fatlsttu, c. 399-401). A decade and more thereafter, he combined this reading o f Genesis and this understanding o f Cain's mark/Jewish practice with the words o f David/ the voice of Christ in Psalm 59 (his cwo sermons and his first, lost response to Paulin us's letter, c. 410-4L5, o n the one hand; his extan t response ro Paulin us, Letter 49, c. 415-420, on the other}. O nce he conceived of Cil)• of God and reconceived exile as the Christian hiscori· cal experience par excellence, he rested his teaching on God 's protec· tion of jewish practice on Psalm 59, standing alone (City of God 18-46, c. 425~ also Sermon againJt the jews and Ft,itb in 11Jings Unseen). No one should fo rcibl)' separate j ews from j udaism, Augustine taught,

;&.. · Epilogue

whether he saw such a n a ttempt in t he pages of J Maccabees o r in the lener o f an episcopal colleague. To do so, he insisted, was co cono·avene God's will. Auguscine never conceived h is teaching about jewish religious prerogative as a jurid ical injunction. It always served as a theological ar gument about t he value of "fleshly," historical Jewish practice as a prophecy of an incarnate, hisrorical, jewish jesus. So roo with Augustine's invocation of Psalm 69:22 by way of Romans J 1:10: '"Bend d own their backs always." This verse was always a meta phor fo r the spiri tual consequences of"earrhly" (rhus 'J ewishn) bib lical hermeneu tics; it was 4

never a p rescrip tion fo r gentile Christia n sociaJ practice. So too with Augustine's understa nding of lsraet•s exile after 70 c. E.: The "sca tter ing" of fleshly Israel was never solely a divine pun ishment for th e Jews, bur it was always, also, a providentiaJ d ivine g ift to rh e nations, o r more precisely to t he church, to a id in her mission to rurn the nations from their idols and demons to rh e true god, Israel's god. Augustine•s argu ments, and his motives, were theological. Bur the idea ch at d rew a ll of t hem toget h er, the idea oflsrael and th us of the Jews, was for Augustine exp licitly socia l and h istorical as well. lsraeJ•s books a re the church's books, taughr Augustine, because the church•s books are Israel's books, while the New Testament pro 4

claims to the nations t he fulfillment of God's promise of redemption to "Israel." But t he ident ity of the redeemed Israel, the "all Israel" that Paul prophesied would be saved (Romans u :2j-26), never meant all of fleshly Israel. On this point especially, for Auguscine, t he Jews as a people embodied che paradox of d ivine juscice a nd hu man freedom, the mystery of God's elecrion. Ma ny are called, few are chosen, a nd yet the will is free. God in his unerring justice co ndemns because of secret sins> known only co h imself. He g rants salvation purely as a gift>mysteriously. to rhe chosen few. Thus redeemed Israel, Augustine insisted. \vas alwa)'S and only rh e commun ity of the elect, t hat t iny minority removed from the massa dannMtd ofJews and Gent iles both. Only those mysteriously chosen few comprise rhe citizenry of jerusalem Above, the ci ty of God. Finally, I have argued in t his book t hat Augustine's teaching on Jews and Judaism had the power a nd clarity char it did in no small way

Epilogue · 365

beca use of the power and the clarity of the anti-cat holic arguments assembled by Faustus in his Capitula. In t hat work, Faustus adroitly used both testa menrs to defend La tin l\·lan ichaean po inrs of principle-on the sources of evil, on the theological status o f gendered fleshJ on the nat u re o f salvation, and o n th e docetic Christ. It was Faustus, with his reading of Genesis and especially of Pa ul the apostle, who created the o pportunity for the multitude of .A.ugusd ne's in tellectual t rajecto ries in the late .390s to intersect. Thanks to Faust us, and to Man ichaean biblical interpretation, Augustine was inspired to bring these intellectual trajectories together precisely on the point of his rh eological co nstruct of the "Jew." But this Augustinian "Jew" was never simply an a bstract bib lical t11pos figuri ng catholic doctrinal t ruths. The idea always poin ted to socially rooted accors on the stage of Christian history, the Bible's master narrative interpreted ad litter-am, th e h istory of God's salvation o f the fles h. Augustine's "jew'' expressed t he continuing positive theological significance ofj udaism as a n incar nate, historical commu nity; an d tha t community in principle stretched cont inuously fi·om the pages of the Bible (wich all its mystical heig hts and depths) to the syn agogues of the la te Roman Empire. Thanks again in no small way to Larin Manichaeism and in particular co its gifted spokesman, Fa ustus, Augustine was ab le co conceive and to construct a catholic theology that drove Neoplatonism's meta physics back into history, and h istory-hum an time-back in to bib lical interpretation. But with t he closing of the canon, Augustine taught, the clarity o f divine intent io n and action in history had dimmed. Postbiblical h istory had begun with Ro me's destructio n of the Second Temple; it would end only with the Second Coming of Christ. During the indefirtire meam~,o·hile, Augustine insisted , fleshly Israel-the "exiles" o f 70 c.e..~ hisje\\~sh contemporaries; jews thereafter-would remain h istory's Pole star, a continuing quotidian revelation o f God's will shining in the darkness of secular rime." The better we understand Augustine's theology o f Jews a nd J udaism, the better we understand the interplay of all these g reat themes in h is work. And the more clearly we see che theological continuity in Augustine's thought between ''jews"' as a $igmun and jews as an acwal

;66 · Epilogue

historical community, che better we see the theological p ri nciple so fundamen tal to Augustine the fo rmer tvlanichee a nd to Augusrine the former p hilosophical enrhusiast. Augustine asserted that flesh and spirit>time and ecerniry) creation and redemption>..belong" together. They had been joined together by the god o f the Bible. They were embodied a nd enacted by that god's son. And they were revealed to humanity rh rough rh e books> the tradirions, and the h istorical existence of Israel- char poin t in his vision where "jews" and Jews meet.

POS T SCRIPT T O THE YA LE EDITION

A stgustineand the]etvs first ap peared in December 2008. ln the t ime since then, I have benefitted enormously from conversations with and questions from various readers, both about ancient jewish-Christian relations in gene raJ and a bom Augusrine in particular. This new paperback edirion by Yale University Press g ives rne the o pportunity not o nly to co rrect many of the various erro rs of rhe first edition and to enlarge its subject index! but also to add a postscript that synopsizes a nd further clarifies rh e conclusions char [ presented narratively in t he

body of the book. ~~ty remarks post scriptum co ncentrate o n Christian traditions contra IHdaeos and their various connections {1) ro social relations between Christians and Jews, {1) to internal Ch ristian diversi ty~ and (3) to Augustine's theology ofJews and ofJudaism.•

••• )etuisb·Cbristian Social Hela.tions. \X1hy does there seem to be so little correspondence between the ways that Christian literate elites wrote about j e \VS and the ways that actual Christians and jews (and pagans as well) interacted socially within the matrix o f the Med.iterranean city? A consideration of the origins of Ch ristian trad itions contr.-t Jr.~-­ daeos can make this yawning gap between word a nd deed less puzzling. Christianity as a religious system distinct frorn and an tagonistic toward j udaism was born in an argument between fo rmerly pagan elites over how to u nderstand Jewish texts. \X'hile those biblical traditions originally referred to by Jesus of Nazaret h would most likely have been in Hebrew o r Aramaic, the texts and the arguments that shaped Christianity's future were in Greek. Greek did more than make the new movement avaHable to a wider world, both jewish and pagan. It • The present essay draws in pare from 1ny response co rhc rc\'ic\.,.. ('Ssars col· leered in Auguslil:ian Studies 40.2 (1009} 279-199.

;6& · Posts(ript

also made ch ose Hellenistic je\\'ish texts chat mattered mosr to the movement-the Septuagint, Paul's letrers, various early gospels-inter pretivd y compatible wirh three important traditions from pagan high cultu re: ethnographical stereocyping, forensic rhetoric, and p hilosophical paideia. From rhese four elements (the availability of Hellenistic Jewish traditions in Greek being t he fundamental one), later Christian t raditions conh"t'J Judaeos cook shape. For t he well-educated gentile Christians who used them, t hese Hellenistic Jewish texts were gold mines for anti jewish invecrive. Seco nd century Christian wordsmiths changed the intra j ewish arguments thar shape both rhe Bible and t he paleo-Christian writings of Paul and o f the evangelists from condemnations of an opponent's judaism into condemnations of Judaism tout court. To do so, they deployed the rhetorical techniques, stereotyping tradi tions~ and philosophicaJ commitments available to them th rough rheir education. Rhetoric contra lttdtJeos, in other words, was produced by cultural elites. \X'as chis rhetoric also produced for th em? lr's a nice question. How many Christians in justin's comrnun ity could follow his argu· ments, were Ti)1pbo read co t hem? In what son: of context \vould 4

4

4

lumpen Carthaginian Christians encounter Tertullian's works? \'V'irh the exception of t he srories of Polyca.rp•s and Pionius' martyrdoms, heard annually in their communit ies to commemorate t heir death days, we have very litde sense of how writings shaped by rhetoric COIJ· tra. Judaeos would have circulated outside of d ire circles in the second a nd th ird cenruries. Its t heological and strategic double goal) too, might have d iffused its social impact: treatises •·against the Jews'' tar 4

geted heretical chal lengers no less frequencly-indeed, maybe more freq uently-than it targered je\VS themselves. Perhaps we should be less surprised, ch en, that our evidence reveals such a gap between Christian a nti jewish literary t raditions (un questionably abusive) and Jewish-Ch ristian social relations (by and large coopera tive and irenic).,. 4

How much could any erudite litera ry tradition shape social reality? • Sec r.spcciaiJy pp. 79--tOt above, on the \'llr ious gaps between hostile rhetoric and accual sociaJ rdations. Ramsay MacMullen 's new study of popular C hri~ ti.tniry makes the sam I." point from a d ifferent p<'rspccci...r: chc gulf between what most Christians did and wh.u a ftw literate Chris(i:ms produced was wide indeed.

Intra-Christian Divenity. ln the fourth cen tllly things change. Christian an ti-jewish rhecoric undergoes a second g reat period of hyperdevelopmcnt in rh e decades followi ng Constantine's conversion. This n ew surge of overhea ted o ratory might seem counterinruitive> given that t he emperor's patro nage had dissolved so man)' of the p rior period's uncerrainries. After all, by the mid -fo urth century, t he Sepruagint had emphatically become t he church's Old Testament, " heresy'' had n1ade th e rransition from being a form of name-calling to being a legal djsability, t he old Jewish homeland had become t he new Chris· tian Holy Land, and the chu rch and its bishops were actively sup· porced by imperial pat ro nage. These new circun"'stances d early define t he victory of orthodox Ch ristianity. Whence, then, orth odoxy's continuing and even increasing vicuperarion against 1'the jews"'? Jno·a-Christian d iversity again goes far in explaining ch is new b loom of rhecoric conflu. ludaf'os. Constantine's efforts to consolidate o rthodox-y had resulted in the shocked recogn ition that the notionally uniced catbo/ica. in fact e ncompassed many local variations in practice, d iscipline, belief. and doctrine. The awareness and even the generation o f difference \Vere caused by the imperial consolidation itself. Creeds as consensus docu ments served as occasions for further fract u ring. Coercive measures, a t imperial iniciative, soon followed. T he resulting explosion of intra-Christian debate led to heated exchanges of antijewish accusations between warring individuals and docn·inal ca mps. In brief, the roiled state of fourth-century o rthodoxy offered new op· porrunities fo r intra-Ch ristian exch anges of anti-Jewish insults. T he tempestuous state of orthodoxy also led to ecdeslastical and imperial initiatives th at t ried co curtail contacts between actu al Jews a nd Chr istians. lr is here that we see rh e rhetoric of orthodoxy linked to t he realities o f power. In ch e corpora of church canons and of im· perial rescripts, we glimpse both t he church's concern to separa te C hristians from jews, and the sorts of no rmal social contacts t hat prevailed between t hese po pu lations, as between pagans, Jews, and C hristians of many sorts. These patterns of inte rco mmunal socializSec 'fbr Sec~md Cbttn-h: Popular Christianil)' AD. 100-400 (Adantn: Socict~· of Bi b-l i c:~-1 Lir<'r.tture, 1009).

370 · Postscript

ing seem very entrenched, which perhaps g ives the measure of how lo ng-l ived they were. Bur in the late fourth cenrury and following~ this erudite hostile rhetoric begins to have social effeccs. Its medium was the sermo n. Fourth-cen tury bishops-in this period> freque ntl)' the ed ucated sons of landowning gemryt trained in orato ry-co uld and occasionally did inspire their congregatio ns to violence, seizing synagogues, burning rhe chapels o f hererics, desrroying pagan holy sires. In rhe !are fourr h century and later) in other words, rhetoric .1dvt..,.sus Iudaeos begins to g row legs, and to affect the Christian street. Nevertheless, Christian emperors countenanced urban disruption no better than their pagan predecessors d id1 and imperial law continued to protect Jewish prerogatives. In the fourth and fifth centuries, aggression directed against Jewish property and persons is unquestionably much more rare than aggressio n directed, first, against "deviant"' Christians and, second, against pagans. And intercommunaJ religious violence in late antiquiry is still far from whar ir will be larer, in rhe Middle Ages.• Augustine's 71>rology ofje~vs and ofjud..ism. To whar degree d id Au gustine knO\v real jews, and know about real jews? It is d ifficul t to say. His ciries of residence-especially Carrhage a nd Rome-h eld la rge Jewish communities. In a sermon, he specifical1)' mentions that jews live in Hippo. A single piece of his correspo ndence addresses a grievance broughr co him by a Jew. He mer news of rhe a nt i-Je\lish rior and fo rced conversions on Minorca in 418 with icy silence. But \Ve cannot build a robust reconstruction of his relations with his jewish contemporaries from these bits and pieces: exiguous evidence frustrates the efforc.t \'(lhatever the quotidian familiarity with jews chat Augustine did have is urrerly overshadowed by rhe degree ro which he rhinks wirh "Jews" as a rheological category. This lasr is rhe focus of my book. The alchemy of his theological imaginarion works astonishing transfor mations in the prior tradition.* Jn the brief period between c. 396-.397 (when he begins de doct>·ina Cbristia11a) and c. 399 (when he begins co114

• The single besc d iscussion of the.se issues may be round in J'. Bro\vn, "Chris· r:ianization and Religious Conflict." t For my own attempt. see pp. 307-314 above. :j: J owe this nice phrasing to Philip Cary, Augustinian Studies 40.2 (2009) 286.

Postscript · 371

tra F.1ustum}) Augustine rethinks how co read the Bible, an d so rethinks, as well, the relationship o f judaism to Christianity. Traditional Jewish "fleshly" observances- circu mcisio n, b lood sacrifices, pur ifications, Sabbath an d high holiday p rorocols-transmute from self-condemning signs of unintelligent interpreta tion ro positive historical enactments of God's will} both in the pasr and, even more sta rtlingly, in the present (temple offerings now necessar ily excepted ). Jesus himse:lfbeco mes a shining exemplar of traditional jewish piety; so roo the aposrlesJ and especially Paul, fo r rhe entirety of the 6 rst generation o f rhe church. The jews· endur ing commit ment to their God-given way of lifeJ says Augustine) textually encoded as rhe I< mark of Cain'' (Genesis 4:r5), preserves rh em and rh eir freedom of practice, through God•s will, un til the end of t ime.* Why does a provident God cont inue to guide and to guard jewish practice, jewish presence, jewish lives? Because, Augustine argues, rheir faith fulness to their own books and their empire-wide ubiquit)' tesciJY to rhe teachings of the Christian church. This idea defines Augustine's o riginal fo nnulation of rhe doctrine of jewish witness, a rticulated tOr rhe fi rst rime in contra Famtum. ln rhe ta re 420s, aJmost two d ecades after his devising it, Augustine p resents t his idea again in Cit)' of God 18.46, this t ime wirh reference ro Psalm 59:l2. Augustine had come to rhis verse in Psalrns sometime in the years 4J0-415 (well before rhe even ts on Minorca) when he was sequentially working his way through the Psalter, and when he received a lerrer fro m Pau lin us o f Nola t hat posed q uestio ns about God's justice and Jewish redemption. (Letter J2J.J,2-7 ldared ro before 415] asks specifically, inter alia, a bo u t Psalm 59.) Both in his .sermons on Psa1ms a nd in h is later response ro Pau linus> he unpacked Psalm 59:1 2-•'Siay them not, lest your people forget; Scatter rhem with your m igh t"-by referring it to h is touchsto ne interpreta tion of Genesis 4 an d rhe '<mark of Cai n~" as t he God-given a nd protective sign o f the Law (01J Psalms 59.1,21~ Letter J49.1,2). Bu t in City ofGod, this verse from Psalms suddenl)' stands by itself.+ \Vhy? Because in thar h uge work) Cain assum es a role much • For chc summary .1rgumcnc, sec p p. }16-319 above. t For chis reason, I would .tlso d.th' rwo Jarc sermons of Augustine's, S('rmon ~mt 1/x }t!W$ and Faith in rhing Unut•n, ro this same period, though after Ci~· of

J7l · Posl'Script

larger than (pre)figuring the wa ndering Jews: he is litera lly fu ndament al to the establish ment of che cittitas ten·etJa, the spiritual and h istorical opponent of t he civitas Dei. The figure of Cain in City ofGod, in short, serves t he o rganizing p rincip le ofAugustine's e nt ire magnum

opus et anUmm. How much o f Augustine's te.achings o n jews and j udaism is con· cerned primarily wit h t he ''hermeneutical jews" of his biblical interpretation, and how much o f it is concerned with his actual jewish contemporaries? Because of the way th at Augustine reads the Bible and understands the significance of the Jewish people, I argue, the question fundamentally collapses. Augustine's "Jew" is indeed a bib lical tupos fig· ur ing catholic d octr inal tru ths. Bu t beca use Augustine reads the Bible ad litteram and proprie-"historically'"'-he co nceives the two Jewish communities. biblical and co memporary, as o ne. No less than the people chro nicled in the church's O ld Testament, the jews o f the late Roman synagogue. for Augustine, embody- literally in carnate--the will of God in hu man history. 4 The continu ing existence ofj ews as Jews, Augusti ne urges, is )'·et another gracious gift of God to the church. Nonetheless, Augustine's theology, for aJI its innovative and positive positions, does ultimately subordinate j udaism to Christianity. This is why he uses such rerms as "servan t" o r "librarian" o r "bookslave" to describe Judaism's subservient role. Actual jews in late Ro man society, however. were not so subject to Christians: their "subordination" is Augustine's theological construct. This theological subordination should neit her d isappoint nor surprise us: Augustine is a lace Roman bishop. Did Augustine's rhetoric abou t the Jews and. ch us, h is th eology o f Judaism, differ all th at much, then, from the superses· sionist rhetoric of h is predecessors and o f h is contemporaries? Here J will have to insist that yes, they d o. \Ve can leave to o ne side the obvious h igh-co ntrast cases-Faustus, not Augustine, was Terru llian's heir-and contrast him. instead, with tha t other genius of t he early churcht O rigen of Alexandria. God: thC)', coo, lack his signarure reference to Genesis 4:15. Fo r chc \,.·hole discus· sion. sec pp. 3.!-t-331 and 362-366 abo\'c.. • Stt p p. j61-365 abovi", whc.rt' I discuss how Aub>uscinc's vicv,:s cdesco pl· b iblical jews wich the conccmpornrr Jewish community.

Posurnpt • 373

In the Contra Celsnm, Origen chides Celsus for misrepresenting judaism when he speaks against Christianity in the persona of a jew. O rigem claims- rightly, it curns our-to understand jews and j udaism berter than Celsus did. And where Celsus lumps both scriptural religions together to repud iate borh, O rigen's defense of Christianity frequently swings into a defense, as well, ofj udaism (much of it d erived fro m rhe Hellenistic j ewish apologecic traditions upon which he unhesitating ly d raws}. But O rigen's supersessionism is much less complex chan is Augustine's, his views on "'Aesh'' much more classical!)' Platonic. He consequently consigns livingj udaism to a desuetude chat Augustine never does, and never would. O rigen's Jesus, like Augustine's, observes jewish Law d uring his lifetirne, but this, says Origen, merely prefaces Christ's disowning o f Jewish practice after the resurrection {Cont:1~1 Celsmn 1.2}. AU current Jewish "doctrines/' he continues, are now just "myths and trash" (2-5). The decoupling of the prophets' message from Jewish practices, O rigen explains, was a fu ndamental purpose of Chr isr's earthly mission (1.19). How d iffe rent from this is Augustine? Very. Origen's negative theology of Judaism stands within an overwhelmingly positive sysrem char anticipates universaJ redemption. God throws no o ne away~ even Saran is saved. Augustine•s positive theo logy of Judaism stands wirhin an overwhelm ingly negative system thar anticipates all-but-u niversal co ndemnation: God's righteous anger against the human race burns hot; even babies, if unbaptized, are lost foreve r.* \\!hence, chen, che attractiveness of Augustine·s theo logy ofj udaism? I chink that it rests) ac least in parr, on an emotional trompe l'oeil: so many o f his points o f principle seem to speak to modern sensibilities- his emphasis on historical co ntext fo r interpretive meaning, his insistence chat Aesh is an essenria) aspect of human being, his repudiation of re.lig ious coercion d irected coward je\VS (though nor chat direcred against heretics, schismatics, and pagans!)- that o u r own S);mpathies trick us in to identifying with Augustine and his arguments, indeed into seeing him 1 in this o ne exceptional instance, as • Par a comparison of these two thinkers, sec especial!)' pp. Jll-315 .tbov.:; this comparison i.s furchcr dl'\dopcd in my Spencer T rask lectures, Sin: ThE- J.:4r!J Hi:tory ofan Jtka (Princeton. NJ: Princ«on University Vrcss, forthco ming).

374 • PoslScripl

something of a religious liberal. He is not chat, of course, no r co uld he ever be. Nonetheless, I chink that we can still ad mire him for rhe exceptional, o riginalJ creative, even daring fo u rth- to fifth-cenrury t hinker chat he was. And his theology ofJudaism in parricular showcases al l o f t hese ad mirab le qualities.

Can Augustine's theo logy ofj udaism}in providing a positive model, contribute something to rhe modem d ialogue between Christians and Jews?* Perhaps.. Modern Christian anti-Judaism, however, info rmed as it is by racist an6 -Semitism and by more recent politicaJ anti-Zionism} is a phenomenon much more co mplex, and much more deeply rooted, chan was the Christian anti-Judaism of Augus6ne's era His world, unlike ours, had no long hisrory of anti-jewish violence and murders. AugustineJs rheological Jev..·s acco rdingly cluster around more innocent issues of textual interpretation: He mobilizes them to d efend the catholic d octrines of creation, incarnation, and resurrection.t Jn co nsequence, th e social impUcat ions of his rheology ofj udaism (which, hap-

pily. \vere benign) occurred co him only as occasion arose. In his own periodJewish co mmunities and je\\~sh lives were not co mmo nly at risk. Augustine's theological legacy had a fundamental effect o n subse-

q uent Latin Christianity. In the changed social context of later perio ds, his teachings o n Jews and j udaism came robe interpreted literally, both for good a nd fo r ill. Thus his reference to Psalm 59:<2, "Slay t hem

no r''-fo r Augustine a metaphor against imped ing je\\~sh religious practice*-was eventuaHy caken as counsel to spare j ewish Jives.i How-

• On rhis question sec cspeciaJly the rc\'icw l."ssar by Elen.t l'rocario· Foley in Augusiinitm Studits 40.2 (2009) 290 -294t All of these docrrlnal positions serve to underscore Augustinc·s a rguments o n chc posiciw theological •;aluc of"Ocsh." S€:c pp.lJ)-259 above; for the b rooder potnt, Peter Brown , "'A Surprise from Saint Augustine," Nrw )"Ork. Rt·lrit.'IV of Hooks, June u, 2009. +"'Slay them not" from l'salm 59:Jl can mislead readers more familiar "~th the Wcsrern Middle Ages (when Jews were often t he targets of terrible religiously provo ked violence) than \\~th lace Antiquit)' (when Jews n'Crc R()man citizens, and society nl()re civil). Evtn ()n Minorca, the choice was co nversion o r exile., not con· version or death. On Augustine's me-taphorical intcrpri'rnrion ()f"slaying,,. sec pp. 270-276 above and 4l6n2. § Sec p. xi above for the famous instance in 1146 involving lkrna.rd o f C)ajrvaux.lsrad Yuval has n oted that rhc rt'fcrence to Psalm 59:1 1 jn Ephraim of Bonn•s

P<.lstrcript • 375

ever, his reference to Psalm 66:13, "Bend down their backs foreve r,.for Augustine a metaphor fo r the Jews' "earthly,. o rientation when reading Scripture-was evenrually taken as prescribing active Chr is· tian oppression.~ Augustine deserves neither blame in the second in· stance nor praise in rhe fi rst. No author can be responsible for the ways that later generations put his work to use.t Argument did not always bring out the best in Augustine. Pelag· jus stimulated Augustine to create "Pelagianism," an international threat, as he saw it, to the church. j ulian of Edanum d rew out in him a doctrinal rigidity on predestina6on and o riginal sin chat other catholics sought to modulate even in his own lifetime. But Augustine's fight on two fronts against the ami-Judaism both of Fausrus and of jerome worked a startling and liberating transformation in Augus· tine's own thinking) driving him out of the box of traditional contra Jr.~-· daeos rhetoric inro genuinely new ways of imagining the relationship between fles h and spir it, between history and revelation, between Judaism and Christianity. \X'estern thought is the richer for it.

Book of RcmC'mbraro-t:t resonates wirh a passage in che Babylonian Talmud, Gittm 57.1, that seems co l"Vince f:tmiliarity wirh Augustine's wirness doclTine: cherc, the teaching is puc imo the mouth ofJesus. Yuval, TtlYJ .~tkms b; Hmr Womb, 5.5-56. • For Augustine's reading. of Psalm 66:13 as a metaphor for J C\\~sh biblical in· tcrpretation, sec pp. 319,364 abov\'. t Already in the fi rsc half of the Sl"\\':nth ccn(urr, in Visigothic Spain, Isidore ofS..."Villc, hi1nsclf a student o f Augustine•s work, was busy m isinterpreting it. 1n a Christian society o bscssivdr focused on anti-Jewish lcgislacion, Isidore fails to refer to Augustine's theology of j t'\\-ish witness, and he even adapts seve r~ of Au· gustine's .:uui-Donacist .argumencs to justify .tnti-Jcv..·ish coercion. Jn Isidore's great work dtt fidt• catbolira, Augustine's reading of Psalm 59:!2 is co nspicuously air sene. Elsewhere, when commenting on Genesis, Isidore lifts from Augustine's COli· t.ra Far1sttun 12.12 the \'cry passage on the Jews• bearing the proucri\'c and divindy bcstO\\'Cd "mark of Cain•• and even combines ic with a nod to J'salm 59, buc on che evidence, he m"\>-er applies Augustine•s arguments to thl.' sicuarion o f h is o wn soci· cty. For m ore on Isidore, the Jrw.s, and Isidore's odd relation to the Augustinian legacy, Sl"r W. Drews, 11x Un.biOWn Nt'i[}>bor (teidcn: Brill, 2006), ~p. 219 (l>salm 59:12) .tnd 292 (Genesis 4); also my forchcoming .tr tide, "Imperial Romc and the Post-Roman \'l;'cst: The Social Correlates of the rontrtt ltu!aMS T rndicion."

AC K NOWlED GM EN T S

A ugustine and I met in 1971, a t Wellesley College, in a seminar on heresy, crusade, and inquisit io n. [ had volunteered to lead the second week's discussion, which focused on something called "the Donatist comroversy.'' "You m ight wane to have a look ar a new book by Peter Brown ," suggested my wonderful professor, Eleanor McLaughlin. The rest, as they say. is history. l11e idea fo r the presen t study came to me in, of all places, j erusalem. The occasion was th e 1993 \Vorld Congress o f j ewish Studies. My topic was ami-judaism in the formatio n of Christian identity. My angle into the topic was che commentaries o n Paul's letter to the Romans t hat Augustine, as a new churchman, had wri tten in rhe midJ90S. In t he frenzied final m inures of packing fo r th a t tr ip, I t hought co t h row rh e o ld, clun ky translation of Against Faustus into my suitcase, along with a photocopy o f Dave Efroymson•s important essay. "The Patristic Connection." In t hat article. Efroymson had demonstrated th at th e lum inaries o f ancient proto-orthodox tradit io n- j ustin, Ter rullian, lrenaeus, Origen-had exercised t heir most virulently a ntiJewish rhetoric not against jews bur, curiously, against other, "heretical" Chr istians. Augustine, l knew, had written Cor1tra. Famttmr, h is monumental repudiation o f North African 1-.•lanichaean Christi aniry. only a few )1ears after completing t he early Paul ine commen · ta ries. Guided by Efroymson's insights, I t hought that I wou ld bo lster my presentation of Augusti ne's anti jewish remarks in h is smaJier Pau line works by min ing Agaimt Famtus fo r even stronger o nes. O nce in JerusaJem1 however, editing and re~diting my pape r for th e morn· ing pan el, J did not get to Agaimt Faustus until sometime after rnid n ight. J decided at that point just to skim some chapters> cu ll a few choice an ti jewish remarks, and then get some sleep. It never happened . Jnstead>energized by my own astonishment, J did not and could not stop reading. Augustine, I saw. had indeed a t4

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Ad:t~ou,Jedzmenzs

· 377

tacked Manichaean Christianity when he attacked Faustus. Bur he never repudiated judaism to do so. O n the contrary: He defended Judaism and even praised it, while defending and p raising, as weJI. the traditional practices of contemporaq' Jews. He even insisted that the Jews had no less a protector than God himself, who would punish whatever monarch, pagan o r Christian 1 who attempted ro impede their observances. In brief~ in Against Famtus-ar the very last moment, and purely by accidenc- 1 found t he opposite of what I had expected to fi nd. 1 remember staring out the window o f rhe Mishkenot Sha'ananim at daybreak, watching the walls of the O ld City g low gold, as I struggled to frame the thought dawning in my own mind: Between 394-395 (when he wrote his com mencar ies on Paul) and 399-400 (when he began Against Faustus), Augustine had come to a view ofjews and ofJudaism that differed d ramatically not only from his own p rior teachings, bu t aJso from the p revailing traditions o f his chu rch. Augustine and thc}etvs had its beginnings in my manic twenty minutes on that morning panel, now fifteen years ago; and I recall with g ratitude the generosity of my listeners, who tracked my ideas, shared my excitement~ and encouraged me co press o n. From that time to this, I have benefited g reatly from the support of many friends and colleagues. Special than ks, first, ro Ora Limor. David Satran, and G U)' Strou msa, who invited me ro attend rhe 1993 \X'CJS, and again to David and Guy for supporting my application ro Hebrew University as Lad)' Davis Visiting Professor. jeren1y Cohen encouraged me to expand upon my ideas in an international seminar o n Jews and medieval Christianiry held in Wolfenbuttel; thelare Keith Hopkins, inviring me to the King's College Research Centre, gave me a chance to pull them together. I am especially g rateful to Ben Isaac and Jo nathan Price for welcoming me into Tel Aviv Universiry~s energetic community of classicists) historians, and religio nists; and to Shlomo Biederman 1 Gidi Bohak, ~..tenachem Fisch. and Jtamar Gruenwald. fo r facilitating rny fo rmal association there as a Sackler Visiting Professor. An invitation to lecture at rhe Thirteenth Oxford Internatio nal Conference on Patristic Studies p rovided me with a wonderful oppo rtunity, before an ideal audience, to share some of the results of my early research. Elaine Pagels, at an especially bleak moment, offered kindness and good

37& • Arkn<Jw ledgmttllS

counsel. In Paris, fo r Archipel JJ, Gerard Mordillat and jerome Prieur coaxed me to think our loud about the big picture: Roman Mediter ranean culture and ancient Christianity's place within ic. In the pages of The New Republic, uon Wiesel tier provided me with similar scope, while doing me (and fu ture readers of this book) the g reat service of pruning and chastening my prose: Shock eventually yielded to grati· rude. Co nversations back in jerusalem with Bro uria Bitton-Ashkelony and with Israel Yuval quickened my imagination and broadened my field of vision; while my dear friend Oded lrshai- bibliographic hunrer gatherer ex-tnwrdiiMire-has sustained me in aU seasons wirh endless streams of great ideas and inspired insights. To all these scholars, my warmest thanks. I was able to begin a new cycle of research in 2001, for which I am indebted to my then-chairman, john Clayton, who enth usiastically endorsed my request fo r leave; to my chen-provost, Dennis Berkey. who approved ir; and co the National Endowment fo r the Humanities, fo r the grant that supported me while I worked. Texans, when they die, john once explained to me, have small need of heaven: Given the choice, they go, instead, to Texas-and Texas, indeed, is where John now lies. I miss his quick intelligence, his wisdom, and his humor. In peace his sleep, and may his memory be fo r a blessing. Early into my first draft, I appealed fo r criticism to three col· leagues whose work has sec the bar for my own: Liz Clark, Robert Markus, and Margaret Mitchell. All three responded with g racious goodwill and acute suggestions, and 1 appreciate greatly the time that they took from their own projects in order co help me with rnine. Margie in particular exceeded aU reasonable expectations, sending back almost twenry single-spaced pages of comments, corrections, and challenges: My readers, no less than I, have benefited g reatly from her broad and deep erudition and her energetic generosity. j im O'Donnell and I have been exchanging co rrespondence on issues Augustinian since before the advent of e maiL As I worked my way through this project, he poked and prodded whatever ideas I sent his way, to my ed· ification. Glen Bowersock and Ramsey ~
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Acknowlrdgmotts · 379

those points on which we d iffe red. Lynn Cohick and Andrew Jacobs, co-ch airs of the Early Jewish-Christian Relations Group of che Society o f BiblicaJ Literature, patiently awaited the arrivaJ of my manuscript for some chree years running before I could finally oblige. Ac che 2007 meeting in San Diego, rhe panel of scholars that the),. convened to discuss Augustine and the }etvs- Philip Ro usseau, Jeffrey Trumbower, Tina Shepardson, and Ra'anan Boustan-inspired and enabled rne to make several important eleven th-hour revisions an d additions. Ra'anan'.s shar p and insigh tfuJ commenrs, indeed, p rompted the finaJ form o f my epilogue. My deep chanks to everyone. When Sandy Dijkstra, my indefatigable literary agent, b rought my book p ro posal to Trace Murphy, my editor at Doubleday, I thought thar J would have rhe p rojecr do ne within t\VO years. As the semesters Aowed by and (co my disbelief) o ne year gave wa)' to the next, I apologized and agonized and noisily lamented. They expressed only pa· tience with me and confide nce in the book. Thank you, Sandy, for all your enco uragement; thank you, Trace, for your quiet and unfailing kindness. Thanks, too, to my dear friends-working moms all- for their steadfast assurances that, some day, my rhree daughters would no longer be teenagers and t hat my book would eventually be finished: Susan Black, Esther C hazon, Lucy Kerma n, Ross Kraemer, Amy-Jill Levine, Renee Melammed, SaJi Miller, Mara Plekss, Adele Reinharrz, Shifra Sharlin, Susan Thistlethwaire, Leslie Valas, Eleni Zachariou. And finally) for rheir assistance to me in the course of this project, nl)' thanks to special helpers in the religion department of Boston University: Karen Nardella, the department's administrative assistant~ Brenda Gardenour; and graduate students Mireille Bishay and Rodd)' Knowles. Special thanks to Cristine Hutchison-Jones for emergency indexing. Two standing debts, appropriately acknowledged here. The fi rst is to my doctoral advisor, john Gager. My own work, and the work of the dozens of students that John through the program at Princeton has produced, sh are a family resemblance, inherited from him: a commitment ro u nderstanding ancient Christians not in contrast to their contemporaries, wherh er pagan or {especiaJiy) Jewisht bur in active an d o rganic contacr with th em. Augustine and tbe jews is a late product

380 · A cknouJ/r dgmtn fs

ofJo hn's Instruct ion. Behind John stands a prime source o f this commitment: h is own teacher, Krister Stendahl. Krister has served as mentor to many of us in the field of ancient jl?'.vish C h ristian relations. His sern inal 1963 article> ''Paul and the Introspective Conscience o f the \Vest/' cont inues ro exert a sal ubrious effect o n modern scholarship; and much of my own wo rk> both on Paul and on Augustine, can be seen as an e.xtended foomo te to h is insights in that luminous essay. John, Krisrer: thank you. Indeb ted as I am to all of these colleagues, frien ds, and reach ers, 1 owe still more ro my husband, Alfred L Ta uber. Together we have rid· den o u t the heavy storms of t he past eleven years, buoyed by o ur love for each other, stead ied by ho pe and by the ballast o f sheer stubbo rn · ness. I dedicate t his book to you, Zev, with deepest respect, admiration, and love. 4

T I ME li N E

330s B.C. E. Alexander t he Great~ transmissio n o f Greek culrure (He I· len ism) 200

jewish scriptures translated into Greek (Septuagint, or LXX)

167

Maccabean revoir Herod rhe Great, k ing of the Jews

37- 4

6 c.E.

c. 30 c. 33 c. 50

66- 73

c. 75- 100

u6- u 7? 130

t32- t35 qo

tso- t6o 190 1.00

220- 250 150

l8os

30J-3J J 312

Judea beco mes Roman province Execution ofjesus of Nazareth~ begin nings of Christian movement Paul joins the movement~ preaches to pagans Paul writes lerters exta nt in New Testament collection (1 T hessalonians, Philemon, 1 and 1 Cori nth ians, Philippia ns, Galatians, Romans) jewish wa r against Rome;Jerus.alem, Temple destroyed in 70 Josephus, ]eiVisb IV~tr a nd Antiquities oftbe ]w s; gospels of Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John composed: Acts of t he Aposdes in late firsr/ early second cenrury Diasporaj ewish revolt fl Valenti nus (Alexandria, then Rome) Bar Kokhba revolt- against Ro me in Palescine fl. Marcion (Pontus, t hen Rome) fl. justin Martyr (Palestine, th en Rome) fl. Tertullian (Cart hage) fl. lrenaeus (Lyons) Origen (Alexandria, then Caesa rea) Decian "persecution" of Ch ristians Mani (Persia) spreads new Christian revela tion Diocletian's persecu tion of Ch riscians Constan t ine becomes patron of Christian church; secures power in western Roman Empire; schism in church of North Africa; rise o f the Donatisr church

354 360-363

379-395 3~)5

4 10

4" 4 18

429

430

Augustine born in Thagasre, Norrh Africa Emperor Jul ia n converts from C hristianicy ro paganism; plan s co rebuild Jewish cemple in Jerusalem Reign ofTheodosius 1; legislation against paganism Honorius, emperor of western Ro man Empire.~ Arcadius) emperor of eastern Roman Ernpire Augustine becomes bishop o f Hippo Honori us o rders closing of paga n temples in Carthage Eruption of pan-.tvtediterra nean conrroversy over Origen's t heology Legislative noose tightens around Donacist Christians (Edict of Unity) t'Fall" of Rome ro rh e Visigorh Alaric, an A.rian Christian

Council of Carthage rules against Donatists Forced conversion of Jews on Min orca Arian Vandals invade North Africa Augustine dies in Hippo

CHRONO LOGY O F AUGUSTINE'S LIFE i\ND WORK

354

366-369 370- 373

Born in Thagasre, North Africa Grammatical education in Madau ros Higher studies in Carthage; begins relationship with common 1aw wife~ b irt h of son Adeodatus; reads Cice ro 's Hortemiu~ resolves ro pursue \X' isdom; joins t he Manichees as an auditor ("hearer") 4

373-374 374- 383 383-384

384 386

387 388-389

Returns co Thagaste ro reach Teaches rhetoric in Carthage Leaves Carthage for Ron1e; stays within tvfanichaean neework As.sumes post in rhetoric in Milan Reads Neoplaronic rexcs in translacion (lace win ter/ spring<); decides co join catholic chu rch (-the conversion scene in Collfo.<:iions 8; August); resigns post in Mi1an; retreats to Cassiciacum; writes early d ialogues (autumn) Baptism a t Easter by Ambrose in Milan~ leaves l\·filan to return ro Africa via Rome; death o f Monnica (August) Free \ffill, book o ne; On Genesis, against dJe Manichees~ returns ro Thagaste; dea th o f Adeodatus. ManicbaeatJ Morals:

Mor.tls ofdre Cburr:h 391 392

393

Inducted into clergy at Hip po; Usefolness of Belief Begins sermons/ commentary on Psalms~ completes first th irty-two psalms by 395 (Srrmom Oil P,.,/ms); debates Fortunarus rhe l\·1anichee (August}; cjrculates Against Forttma"ts Speaks before bishops' council in Hippo (Tr11e Religioll); question 61of On Variom Questions; UtJfinis.bed Liter~/ Com-

mentary• on Genesis 394-395

Studies the exegetical work of Donatist theologian Tyco nius, esp. Book of Rules; lectures on Paul in Carthage (Notes on Ronl4ns)~ writes early Pauline commentaries (On Galatiam~ Unfinished Commentaf)' on Romans)~ wrires to jerome about Galatians (Letter 28); Oil LJ•illg

JS..J • Chrt:mology

()f /utgtJSiinr •s

Lif~

and \Vork

Questions 66-68 o f Answers to \' mendoning ~vconius' Bock ofRules (?); finishes books two and three of Ft~e Will 396

397

398-399 401

403 404 405

4 JO

4 10-4 15?

Becomes sole bisho p of Hippo; reads Roman s again; An+ swer to Simpliciamu (historical use of massa) Anti+Donatist preaching campaign~ begins Cbristidn Teaching, in terrupting composition in book three; begins Confessions; wri res Li.'tter 40 to jerome Begins Against FaustsJs~ Ho norius closes tern ples in Carthage Begins Litt>ml Ctmmumta.1)' on Genesis; completes by 414 Lettet· 7 t to Jerome Lettet· 75 from Jerome Empe ror Ho norius takes more steps against Donatisrs, Edict of Unity; Lettet· 81 to Jero me "Fall" of Ro me to Visigoths. Begins sermons on the Gospel ofJo hn, completed between 417 a nd 420 Paulin us writes ro Augustine asking a bo ut salva tion of Jews and t he meaning of Psalm 59 (Letter 121); Augustine cornposes two sermons o n Psalm 59 (On Psalm 59), expli+ eating ir in terms of Genesis 4 and the mark of Ca in; Au gustine's fi rst letter responding to Paulinus goes missing

4 ' 1- 420?

Smnom on tlte Gospel ofjo/m

4 11

Council of Carthage againsc Donadsts. Augustine a ttacks t he t heology of PelagiLJS; begins Cil)• of God Second letter to Pa ulin us, on salvation ofJews, how co understand Romans, Genesis 4 on rhe mark of Cain, and Psalm 59 together (Letter 149) Forced conversion ofJews on tvlinorca Letter *12 from Consenrius, referring to incidcnc on tvlinorca Completes Cil)• of God; writes Sen/loll against Jbe j ews and Faith itJ Things Unseen: All th ree use Psalm 59 without refe r· e nce to Genesis 4 Resum es and co mpleces Clwistian Teaching; writes R~hwcta+

4 14-4-20?

4 18 4 l9

426

427- 428

tions 430

Vandals besiege Hippo; deat h of Augustine (Augllit 18)

NOTES

PROLOOL'E 1.

2.

J.

4·

Srfc·r Zi>khrmb (Book of Remembrance) cited i n S. l:::iddbcrg, lhr jl!ws and tbe Crut<;ckrs, 121-.U. Sec .tlso 0. Berger, ''The Attitude o f St. lk·rnard o fCiairvaux to the Jews;• 89-108. S. S imonsohn, 7'1x! ApQtlolic S(.oe and tht jru-s., traces the effects o f Augustine's witm'S$ doctrine on mcdic\•al papal policies toward J!.-·ws; J. Cohen, l.Jving Ll't· ft•rs of thr Law, surveys the later theologicaJ transmutations o f Ausustinc's teaching during the l::urop.:an Middle Ages. "If the J udaism o f the Diaspora in this }X"riod d id produce any literature, it has been entirely lost" (F. Millar, «Jews of the Grae
j86 • Notes 10 pttgrs

5·

6.

7·

S.

XPi- .'(Piit

post·Har nack tlll~ories: Both men claimed that re.JI, often hosrite encounters with actual Jews stood behind the ron.fr.J Jrid&ros rhetoric. Taylor proposes, in· stead, that gentile Chri:>tianity>s m"td to d istinguish and to diffcrcnriatt' itsdf from its Jc,.,.·ish matrix made irs traditions c:ontr-.J lt~ros a standing nL"Ccssity for the construction o f its identity, wh.u~vcr rhc contact o r lack of contact wirh JL"''\'S. Horbury diss.:nts from Taylor, and he postubtes m.issionary com· pctiti\•-:.ness as the stimulus for these Christian traditions.. ( rertuUian's tn:a· tise rontm /udaros, for c.xampl.:, .seems ro Horbury to supply "a fuller picture ofjcwi.sh-Chr isrian m issionary rivalry, in competition for the samr potential non-Jewish .ldhercnts";Jt"ltls .1nd Clm'sti.ms, 140.) Carleton J'"agcr and Jacobs of· fe r ro unded considerations of both arguml.'.nts; I propose .:mother rccon· struction in Parr I of rhe p resent study. "Or nrc they such slaves ro habit," Simon continued, "that thcr will go on producing a type ofliteran1r.: that has lost, ccnh.lries t'arlil'r, its justification and purpose?" (llmu lmu:l) 140). l~lumenkr.mz understood Augustine's 1hJdat.us as a statement of the bishop's desirc to conven j.:\\'S Uude~•pmligt passim); his specifically exegetical argu· menr is found on pag.:'s J 10-181, prcs.:'nted in summ.uy fo rm on pages l1o-2r2. He- repeats these points di.scursivcly in a larcr css.1y, "Augustin et lcs Juifs, Au· gusrin ct le Juda'i.sme,·• 226 and 230 (problematic J e\t~sh presencc),ll7 UL"''\'ish m issionary efforts). and lJJ, 23)- 2.36 ("missionary" count.:'rnrsumcnrs). Si· mon construed the phl'nomenon of Gentiles' volunurily Judai7Jng and .....,....._n conwrring to judaism as t-vidmce w 1fm> ofJewish missionary cnde.avor. l ar· guc b ril.'ny ag.tinsr this idea of competitive missions in "Exca(-cati Ckculta lusti· tia Dri,. }2.0-314, .lt length in "'Christian Anti·Judaism,"' and in chc prcsem book. Behind the won- of BlumcnkrJ.nz and Simon stands rhe srill-va.Juable st11dy of ChristiJ.n sources from the rexrs of che New lht.amcnt to lace im· p.:rial legislation: J. PJ.rkcs, Thr Conflict of thr Church (.md the' Synagogue- (origi· n.:~.lly published in J9J4). V.lfkcs a.Jso posited Jewish missionar y activity to account fo r Christian anti·Jcv..·ish invrctiw. Jrws ncwr producOO an ad"rr.<Us ChnsUanos liceracurc comparable to the VJSt Christian adr't'rsus l11da.t·os litern.ttlre (though the pagan Cc1sus lsce n. 41 n·· peats somr Jewish calumnies abour Jesus• parenr.tgc). A greater familia rity with bO(h fu.milies of sources, howl"'<'t'r, has rnJ.blcd recent schobrship co dl'· tL"Ct rr, Babylonian rabbinic texts. For che for mer, see especially W. Horbury. '1'emtllian o n the Jews-"; for rhc latter, sec mosr recently, V. Schiifl.'r, ]('$US in tht 1aitm«L On i ntra·J l'\\~sh concerns about minut (..scccari· anismu} and th.:' idcntific:ation of such minim "'sectar-ians" as "Christians," sec D. l~oyarin, Dyingfor Gurl. "Harn:~.ck was righc in !\"cognizing the internal importance of c.wgesis adt't'r· ms Judmxn for Christian education.'' Horbury has suggesc~d. "bur \O,.TOng in supposing that significant contact betwcrn Jew'S and Christians had cca..,.cd" U("ws <111d Cbristiam1 10l). Seeking a ..medial position" brtwccn currt-nt maximalists in the U.lumenkr.mz-Simon stream (fo r whom im·l"Ctiw plus co nversions signal vigorously competitive Jewish and Christian missions) a nd minimalists (among whom I number, and for whom J e\\~sh-Chri stian contacts, conrroWI'S)', and co nwrsions d o n ot evince competing m issions). J. Carleton Paget has proposed a theory of mitigate-d missions-that is, a.lthough nor aU Jews in all place-s sought co 1w~rts, perhaps soml' jews in soml' places d id ("'Jewish

Proselytism," 102). What this more modest proposal gains in plausibility, how.-:vcr, it loses in explanatory power: OccasionaJ missionary effons in dis· cr~tc localities cannot account fo r the ubiquity and the rxtremc hostilily of Christian contra !u&tcos rheto ric. In the course of the present study. f propose an alt~ rnarive explanation. g. Syriac traditions of anti-Jewish polemic haw been comprchcnsivdr scudicd by C. Shepardson, AJtli:fudaism and Chrislhm OrthodtJX)'· She notl."s how concemporarr Jewish communities, rhc actracrions of synagogue rituaJs and of Jewish holidars, and intra-Christian anxieties about doctrinal d eviance all concribuced to rhe sound and the fury. No compamble scudy }'l:t u iscs for Copric tradition; Sl"t, howe\•er, S. Shot'maker's essay " ' Let Us Go Bum Her Body,',. which notes t he ways that L'volving legends of the death of the Virgin 1\
The premier source for Augustine's life remains his own work o f rctrospcc tivc t heo!Ob")', Tb€' ConfoMwm (hereafter cited. in notes as Co11f). Augustine's fathe r, Patricius, who formally affiliated with the church onlr toward t he end of his Jife (Con[. 9.9,.ll), has frequcndr !><en idemifil'CI as p:tg;tn {sec, l'.g., H. Chadn'ick, Augtmint1 tO; S. la.ncd, Sdint Ar~gusline-1 9, apparcndr in \'iew ofPatricius' t levcnth hour baptism). This se~ms unlikely to me. In fane baptism, while .t strong local cusrom in North Africa. \O,.'tnt Christians (or Jews, for that maccer) from St"rving boch as students and, in some cases, as teachers in Mediterranean schools. H. J. Marrou pro't·idcs a comprchcnsi\'e sur\'L'y of ch.-: ancient curriculum from its stirrings in pn"-dassical Grttce co its cransformarions in B)"Lantium and in early medieval Europe in lbr HisUJI)' of EdtKation in Anliqlfit_y. For :t w ry good gcncr.1l introduction to Hellenism, sec F. \'i/. \'t1,tlbank, '11~ Hrllt•nis.lic \Vorld. Ardtaeological evidence in p:.rcicular mc.tsu r~s the d iffusion of Hellenism's \risuaJ vocab ul ary~ for beautiful images of rhesc. material rc 4

4

4

4

4

4

l.

4

jSS • Notn to pages J - 8

mains as wdl as sh.lrp historical analysis, SL't' J. Elsner, 1mperiod fWmr- and Chris· ti.:t.n Triumph. .. Hellenism was a language in which pLooples of t he most diverse kind could participate. .. . Lltsl thought, mythology, and images ... consti· tuted an extraordinarily flexible nlL'd.ium of borh cultural and linguistic expression" (G. W. Bowersock, Heflmism m l.dh- Antfqult:J> 7). Hellenism's supple cohesion both t'nabled and was supported by the political (thus rdigious) and sociaJ o rganization of rhe city, o n which, sec A t\·1. H. Jones• magisterial studt·· ·1-m- GnYk Ci!)' from Alrxa-ndl·r to ju!tinian. Greek was lo ng the language of Christians in Western churches (and, no tably, in Ro ml' it:«: If) Jx:cause of the numlx-rs of immigrants who came from thl' East; learned L.1tin Chris· tians could compose in Greek lx!cause of rheir bilinguaJ educ.uion. J. P"or a description both lcarm-d. and livdy of the conscstcd uniwrsc of Mediter raJ1l'an di\~ ne-hu man interactions sec csp. R. lane Fox, Pa§Jm and dmS· tians, 11-261. For an orientation in cultic cciquetu:, induding pu rity rules, offerings, prarers, banqm•tins, and proci'ssion, sec W. Uurkcrr, Gr«k Rrlfgjon. "Anronc wishing to ascend into the podium," advises a f irst-century inscription fro1n Tunisia, cn'Cted ncar an area sacred co Asdepius, t he god of healing. "should abstain for three days from \\-umcn, pork, beans, the barber, and the ciry baths, and he should not enter we.ulng shoes" (R. MacMullen and 1:. N. lane, Soum•book. 37). Jewish sacrificial cult was concentratL-d. in JrrusaJcm, an d the rules fo r sacrifice and puriry appear throughout fou r of the Five Hooks of Moses (Exodus, L{",·iricus, Numbers, nnd Oeuteronomy). E. P. Sanders ,jud.tism: Pracllw and lkliefi 6J BCJ£-66 Cl:~ situates t hese Jc·wish purity mlcs in t heir ct1lcic comrxt of late Second Temple Judaism, v.:hilc drawing attention to the ways char these praccices were a particular c.xpres· sion of more general, rccosnizably t\·Jcd.iterrnnl'.:tn patterns or rc-sul.lCing proximity to che divine. On che Christian fear of demons lurking around public altars, sec most rccendy A. Y. ReL-d.. "The Trickery o f t he Fallen Angels and chc Oemonic Mimesis of the Divine." 4· Ancient philosophy presents a closer anaJogue co modern religion th an ancient "'religion" dOC's. lndividuaJ philosophical schools cmpha.sizcd personal assent and intellectual a.llcgiancl' ro particular propositions (hence the •·doc· trines" or Platonism o r of Stoicism), and a decision to identify with such a school entailed making commitments to distinctive bch.tviors and/ or dress andf o r diet as wd l. For rhcsc reasons, Hdlcniscic auchors frequently identified jews as a n.uion or philosophers: sec M. Stern, GnYk ar.d Nom.w Atdhcrs on jews and judmsm, voL 1, for copious examples. Pagan incdiL•ctuaJs convrrting to some fo nn or Christianity .tlso spoke o f their decis ion on t he analogy of joining a p hilosophical school; thus, fo r example, Justin Marryr in the opening chapters of his Dialogur with 1iJ•pho. 5· I. Malkin, Anck'nt Pen:cptions ofGnYk Elbmci~i assembles a splendid sroup of essa)'S on Gn'i:klll"SS and ideas of ethnicity, many o f v,:hich consider this fa· mous passage from Herodotus 8. On Hellenistic jc\.,.·ish adaptations o f these ideas, SL'(' chc essar by E.. Gruen in Malkin's colteccion, ''jewish l'crspcctiws on Greek Culture and Ethnicity." On the /oudais.mosjH(-1/t•nismw distinction in the passage from 2 Maccabees, SC(' t he commentary by J. A Goldstein in II Maccabees, 192. G. \V. Bowersock deftly d raws our the vicissicudes of this vocabulary of cthnicity an d religion and ics Iacer pcrmur:uions in Christian Greek ruts, whcn'in rthnikos ("l"thnic") beco mes the standard wo rd for «pa·

Ndtl's to pages 8- 11 • J89

6.

7.

gan." This usage «suggests atone and the same time thclocaJ character of pa· san cults ... and the role of Gn't'k cuhur<: in sustaining chose cults" (Hf'l· /erusm in lAI<" Antiq"il;)j tO-tt). For more o n Paul's positi\'c orientation toward the Jcrusalcln temple, sec S. Ston~rs, 11 Rrn-ading of &.mldns~ ljO-cjr. C. P. Jones, Kimhip IJiplomac;y in the Ancimt \Vorld, rt:vcaJs how ancient parties ro rrc.:aries discovered rhat th~.--y were "cousins." The Jewish god did not lea\'C behind o ffspring as the Gn.'t:k gods did, so Jews in rhc Hdh•nisric age con· strucrcd kinship lines and thus diplomatic ri'lations through heroic parri.uchs in.sc<:ad. Jn this way. for example, they became " related to" the Spartans: T he djvinc Hcrades, in the distrutt past, had {'1/idently married a SJ".lnd· daughter of Abraham. «After reading.1 cercain document,,. announc~s a Spar· ran kins to the Jewish hish priest, «wt' have foun d that Jews and lacL-dacmonians [SparransJ arc o f om: fam ily lgmosJ, and share a connection \•.:ith Abraha1n." This text (a Hellenistic Jewish fabricarion) is reporccd both by Josephus (A7Jliquitit•s 12.2.26; c( l.l.JO; late first century C.E.) and in 1 Mace. 12:11(mid-fi rst ccnrury n.C.E.). For discussion, S(.'C Jones, Kimhip Diplumao; 7280; and Gruen, "Jewish Pcrspcctiws o n Gr«k Culttm:;• 36r-364. The claim is fr~.-'<Jucntly found chat Christian icy, as a religion of com~rsi on, "separated religious be-lief and pr.1ctice fro m Romanit.1.<, culr from cultur e,.. and thus in'A':nted what wc mean b)• «religion" in the moder n sense as a cat ~gory independent of a partin 1lar echnic group. T hus, for example, D. Bo· t·arin, "Semantic Differences,'' 71-72 (the source of this quotation). l!ut some ancient Chrisri;tns se~m to haw seen thin;s differently. They are the on~ who '\u\~ gathered into the one rnce (grnosJ of t he saved people.,.. said the second-century church fachcr Clement of Alexandria (Mi'sa.o/l,mies 6.4-2.2). Chris;tians, preached i>olycarp (mid-second centurr} .u~ "the race lgt-nMJ of che righteous" (A·tarl)nlom of Pofyr.arp 4.1). D. K. Buell has undersca n-d. the wa}'S in which early Christian writers us.c precisdy chcse .1n.:icnr conct-pts of raccftl-'nrn to articulatc their communal identity; sec "Rethinking the Rcle ..·ance ofRac(' fo r Earlr Christian Sclf-Definition;. ,..Racc and UniwrsaJism in Em·ly Christianit)',.. and \Vkv 11n"s Nrw R.acr. On Paul in particular, see C. j. Hodge, I{Som1 Then Heir.<. For pagans, set e.g., R. Turcan, Thr Gur.lt o[Andcnt N.umt .md 711-e Cults oftl-e Ru· man tmpn-r. M. Beard et aJ. d iscuss f'I·W &M, whcrcb)' '"the gods of che enemy could be seduced" (RJ!/igiuns ofRom~1 J:34). More frcqut·ncly, war Vlas imas)ncd. as a dash bcnvcen deities as well as between their peoples, as Homer, Jewish scripn1rc..s, a.nd later Christian ones amply ottcst. Bo..,.\':rsock traces the long lives o f deitieJ> whose locaJ char.tcrerisrics were preserved despite, and C'lt'ntu ally lxcau.se o f, their "tmnslation" into Greek, in Hdlmism in I.At<" Anliquio/, ('.g.• 18 (ArsUf Arcs, an Arab god), 25 (Ai6nf 0siris). Note roo, in the case ofjcw ish/ Spartan kinship diplomacy ~xplorcd inn. 6 abovl!, chat the Jews who construct chcir f.1mily connection co Spana deal straightforward!)' with the historical existence ofHer.:tcles. 1\
4

8..

4

4

9·

J90 · Notes t<J p.tgt's u - 15

and neither should we. In the view of the p.1gan majority, gods could inl1.1bit their statues from time to time, just as chey \~sited t heir aJmrs and other sanctuaril".s. Cult images in this way wen.• sanctified hr the divine pr6Cnce. ( r hc ability to tell when a god tenancL-d. his statue was chc mark of the ell"\'atcd scn.sibilily of a holy man~ SL'i." e.g., Bowi'fsock o n Heraiscus in Hrl/(!msm h1 Antiqsuf)~ 15.) But pagans coo d i.scinguished between their god.s and the im· ages of their gods. to. Achcnagoras, alate·S('cond-centtll")' Christian apologist, tnakC's both of these poincs nicely in t he vcr)' beginning o f h is v.:ork in defense of Christianity, :td· dressed ostcnsibl}' co thl· empt".rors rvlarrus Aurdius and his son, Commodus. "In rour empire," Athcnagoras obsc-r\'cs, "d ifferent nations haw different cus· toms and laws. and no o ne is hindered by law or b)' fear of punishmenc from fo llowing his ancc.straJ custo ms, no marrcr how ridiculous these may be" (Leypliu 1). Similarly, the pagan G.-lsus, also in the lace se-cond century, points out that je\\··s "obserw a worship which may be \'cry peculiar bur it is ac le.t.st traditional fn this respect they beh av~ like the rest o f mankind. because each nation follows its particular c ustoms" (A§Iimt Cr!.ws 5·25)· 11. On che intertwining of municipaJ govrrnmcnl, impcria.J govrrnment, sacrifi· cial cult, and priesthoods, sec Jones, '/be Greek Ci0~ 127-135~ and th e more rL"cenr essays .lSscmbiL-d in M. BC'ard and J. Nonh, eds., l'a§ln P'rirsls.. The ea.rly·third·ccnrury church father TC'rtullian particularly inveighed against Christians• frequenti ng the t heater, the baths, and the comperirions: T hese wrrc tainted wich the imag.c.s .md worship o f pagan dcicics. A similar d i.scus sion o f the p irfuUs ofliving \o.:ich idols .tppcars in the near-conn.-mporary r.~b­ binic tractate At'OtLth Z.uuh, its Hebrew ride an cxacc match for Tertullian•s treatise On Idolatry. On the e\~denn~. most gencilc Christians, mos.t d iaspora Jews, and .some among thc rabbinic Jcv.·ish subculture in Palestine a U made their peact" ''~th this lc\'d of t'ngagcmenc with "idolan y." On this lase point, sec c.speciaUr Y. Eliav, "The !{o man Bath as a Je,.,.·ish Institution." In 425. chc empero r Throd osius JJ cr-ied ro prohibit nor onlr Chrisrians but aJso Jews and pagans fro tn attending theater .tnd horse races on Sundays and Christian holr days: Evidently, memlx:rs o f aU thrL'i:' groups w~"re there ('I'IHodosian Code t5·5·5~ A Linder, Tbt jt•ws in lmpt•ria/ IWman Ugislation, no. so, }Ol-304). This d ra\lting o ft hr battle lines lx:twccn the high·minded and the majority continued into the sixth century. T he Syriac Christian Jacob of ScrUg rrfX"ai'.S the nonchalant response o f Christians with whotn he ple.tds to cease attending pla)'S and pantomimes: "It is a game, not paganism. What do you lose if I laugh? The dancing ofch:.r pl.:tc:c cheers mr up, .... I am b.lptizcd just as )'Ott are," Homili~s ur. tht· Spt•rtadcr of1/x> '11X'atn-. cited in Uowc.rsock, Hd· h•,Jism, JS. Jn Chrisri:m North Africa, Augustine expt:ri cnc~.--d. similar frustra· tions :. century e-arlier. rvlarkus illumines che abiding incc rpcnecration-or S)'ltonymy-of religious and civic life, and Augustine's pragmaric acquits· cence ro this social fact, in 1bt· Eml ufAndent Christia,Ji!)~ t07-tlJ. 1:.. 11le surwys o f Hellenistic and of Roman religion mentioned earlier aJI h>lw discussions on the c ult o f t he ruler. J. Elsner's Imperial Rom~ and Christi.:m 1i-i· tmtph offers .m cspcciaJly fin e d iscussion on how the cmpt"ror•s image.. ubiq· uitously d ispla}'cd, was itself though t to have numinous pow~r and, like ancient temples, was considcn:d a pl>lcc o f asylum (chis was true well into the Christian period, 53-87). On t he e mperor's image and ancient politics and 4

Notes to pages

lj - 16 ·

391

pil."ty, SL't' further K. Hopkins, "Divine Emprrors." Sec: also H. Drake, ConstantinE' and tht Bishops, who n icdy notl."s the rd igio·· poliricaJ messages encoded on coins, "antiquity's sound bites!' S. Price, Rituals and Pou't'r; insists on a differt'nce bl."t\VI.'I."n thl." ways th:.t the gods were worshiped and t he ways that honor wa.s shown to the em~ror ("Language sometimes .l.Ssimilarcd the emperor to a god, but ritual hdd back," 113); J. Gradel, Emprnn· \Vorship ami &man FMi· gion, discounts any such d istinction. And what wcnc up sometimes cam.: down: Through d.nmwtio 111t·moriart, .1 repudiated t'mperor like Nero or Domi(i,ut, once safdr dead, could bt' cdestially d emoted.. To oppose che empr.ror wa.s co co mmit sacrilege: This hdd true t'vcn afft'r Constantine's conversion; .see Jones, 1..4trr &mar. Empin:~ 1:93, who aJso comme-nts on Constantine's pl."rsonal approval o f chcatTic.tl competitions and gladiacoriaJ games dedicated co him, under super\~sion of an imperial priest. Bowt:rsock, "The Imperia] Cult," l8l, noti.'S that the fifth-century church historian Philostorgius complains, in Churrh Hisl41)' 2.16, of Christians in Constantinople who pray to a statue o fConst.:tntinr "as to .t god ... Sec too Bowersock's btt'r essay "Polytheism and t\·lonothrism in Arabia and the T hree J>aJcs.rincs." R. MacMullen sun't'ys the conrjnuing cult of chc cmpc:ror afrer Consmntinr in Christiam'I:J .wd 1-'tt§.111ism, 34-39. Const:.ncinc's «object was co obtain the support o f chc supr<:me ru ler o f the uniYerse ... in che de-fen ce and administration of h is reahn ... . The basic conception W.tS Ro1nan rather than Christian. Constantine wished ro maintain t he pax doomm as his predecessors had done, but he lookt'd to a new d ivinity and for new procr· dures to maintain it";J. H. W. G. ticbeschuL't'4 CmJtinuil)• and Cb.1ngt• in Ronum Rt-ligiun, 291. Cf'IAPT ER 2: OOOS AN I) HIE ONE GOD 1.

My discussion here is much indebted to the recent work ofj. B.arclaj',jC:'ws in tlv \~'sfr:m A·lt•dilt•rranran Di.1Spom; and E. Gruen, Hrritagr and Hrl{enism and IJia.<pora. A very fuU SUrvt')' of the rdev.;tnt primary material is available in e. SchGrcr-Vcnnl'.S et aJ., Histmy oj'tbr]~wish Prople m tht· Ag.• of)l!ms Christ. A convenient and extrl."mdy wd l organized compl.'ndium of translated primary sources for this jev1ish population (includins inscriptions and paprr us texts as wdl as excl.'rpts from literary ones) is now available in M. Williams, jew,: dmung tl:e Gn't'ks and &mar.r. On jews .a.s Hellenistic colonists, j osephus rl."pons that the Sdeucid king Antiochus the Great (llj-187 S.C.E.) settled 2,000 B:tb)'lonian j e\'t'ish families in Asia Minor to garr ison his colonies t here (Anliq"ities 12.147-153); .similarly, a Ptolemaic king sertJcd Jl."ws in outposts o f his territories (Ag.1imt Apion 4-44)-

"'So populous arc the jews," wrote PhiJo in his essay l-'1accus, «th-lt no one country can hoJd thl."m, and therefore t hry srtde in very many o f chc most prosperous countries in Europe and in Asia, both in the islands and on the mainland; and while they hold rhc Holy City whc:re st:.nds t h!.' s.1crrd Temple of the most high God lJcrusalemJ co be their mother city l mrh·q~,;ofis1 )<et thosr .::iries which are theirs by inheritance: from rhcir farhers and grandfarhcrs, and ancestors even further back, arc: in each case accounh•d by them to be their futherland (patriaJ in which rhcr were born and reared" (i-1amu 46).

J9l · Notn to pages 16- 19

For the Jewish communities o f Asia Minor, sec too W. Amding,. «Die: jUdischen Gemcindcn im anriken Klc:ina.sicn" and, follov,:ing him, Gruen's fu r· ther thoughts on apoikia («colonies'"), metropolis, and p.Uria- vocabulary drawn from Philo and Josephus- in Vimpora, 242. Ro man Jews in the: early fifth cl'ntttr}' C.l!. were no less att.lChed to their hometowns in the Oiaspora than their earlier, HeJirnistic counterparts h>ld bet'n. \'(.'hen in 4-18 C.l!. the Jews of Magona were faced with the choice of l'Xilc or conversion to ChristianiC)•, one o f them observed chat "whoL•vrr dol's n ot abandon his fatherland lfkttria- that is. the island of 1\Jiinorcaj \\~II not be able to rtt.tin the faith of h is fathers lfidt's patn~.m J," U:J.IJ!rcm ~ Cant'ersion aft!H? jt'li'S 18.19; hercafrr r Let· frtr afStiJl•r:ts. JC\\~sh apocalrptic texts-those writinss that pronounce the conviction th;tr t he god o f Jsrad was about to inren.'l'nl' in history, O\'l'rcome evil once fo r all, and establish his kingdom-also abound in this period from ro ughly 100 B.C.!!. to lOO C.£. Since many of che!K' texts modded chemseh't.s on o lder biblicaJ prophecies ch.:~.t spe.1k about the redemption from B.abylon, they also used the imagerr o r literary framing of «exile," as beer Christian wr iters, polemically, will also do (.sec p. 84 above). By rhc sixth cenrury :lnd later, drawing again o n this same biblic.tl imagcrr. rabbis in Babylon will do the .same, speaking of Rome as initiating che second l'xile. In reality, hom,\'er, Jewish populations had bern .settled in the West fo r cemuric.s before the. Ro man destruction ofJerusalem in jO C.E. 2. Showing courtesy toward p:tgan gods, Philo rcmarki:d, ensured peace bL"twccn fsrad an d the nations, "fo r reviling each othcr•s gods ahvays causes war" (QucstimJs a1Jd AmWl'rr on Exodus l.5, commenting on Exod. l l:l.S LXX). He goes on to add that this wrsc of Scripture urges jews to rcspL'
Notn to pagu t9- lJ · 39J sla\'e Chrysa, on condition that she be unharmed and unmolested by .my of his heirs under Zeus, Gaia, and Hdios," reads a mant11nission inscription from the Bosporus, mid-first century C.E. T he je\\·ish god dominates its invocati on~ Greek gods duster l t its dose. What is the echniciry. then, o f rh..donor? Is l'othos a god-fearing p.1gan or an anciem j ew? For a tour through the m.osr recent arguments, Set" J. lL"\'CJtskaya. ·ttN.• Hook ofAc~ in Iff Djaspor.r Sr-nir.g, m - u6 (with the full text o f the inscription on p. 139); sh..- concludes that Pothos was .l sod-fearing pagan; also l. Levine, The Ancknt S)'Mgogttfj u3-113; he concludes (on p. •• -t) that Pochos was a Jew. Those who wonder why it should be so difficult to make the idencificacio n will appreciate two articles br ft. Kr.u:mer: "On the meaning of the lCr m 'jew' in Graeco-Roman In· scriprions:· and "j c\\~sh Tuna and Christian Fish." For che two Jewish inscriptions co chc Jewish g.od plac~.--d in the Egyptian temple o f Pan, sec Li'v· inskaya, Acts br Jb Di.:upora St•tting1 9-t-95· s. M. Williams, }t'li>"S Amor.g the Gr«ks and N.om~IIJS1 •07-J)t, ass..-.mbles rranslacions of t he ancient primary evidence for Jews as ephebes, citiz..-.ns of pagan cities, memb..-.rs of town councils, o ffi cers in gentile armil•s. Going to the gymnasium and being a member ofrh~ l'phcbatc meant that on\! w.t.s a mem· bcr of the citizen body. T he firsr-auJ in Galatians 2:4 compl.1ins t hat P«er wanes to compel gentile Christians in Amioch

J9-l • Nott'S to po~ges lJ- 27 "to Juda.iZC",.: there the issue seems co be food. For a dear discussion o f chis

murky topic, SL"C S. Cohen, Tb" Begmmngs ofjcwislmess, 175-197. 8. Sec M. Goodman, "The l'ilgrimagl! P.conomy o f Jerus.tlcm in the Second Temple Puiod." Sanders provides a dc.u account o f the \'ast wealth hdd by the Te1nplc trc-a.surr,Judaism: ltr-.u:lia-and Brlie£ 83 (with valm•s on gold talents translated inro U.S. dollars ar the nn e o fS 4oojouncc) as well as a calculus o f the don.uions from chc two~rachma or half-shckd Tl'!np!e cax paid b)• every adulc Jl'\vish ma.le. '11lis was n ot a l.uge sum: approximacdy two da)>s' pay for a day labourer, a m;m at t he bottom of chc pay scale. Thac it was paid is o ne o f the things: about first·cc nrury judaism chat is most certain," 156. On chcs.r donations, scl' funhe r Pucci bi-n ZecY,jrwish Rights in tiN! Roman \florid, 468471. 9· Accusations o f sexual m isconduct, such as we sec here in Wisdom o f Solomon and in l'aul, ww: a reliable and near·universa.l rhetoricaJ trope of such ancient polemic, on which now sec J. Knust, Ab.mdoned lo Lllsl. On the rebellion in the Diaspora, daccd to either U)/117 C.E. or u6/ tt7 C.E., wry litdc is known. Relevant sources from inscriptions, pap)•ri, and literature arc: assembled and aSSHSl'd in M. Pucci ben Z~.-•t•v, Diaspcm judaism in 1imtJoil. The Jews' dclibemtc destruction of pagan holy sici.'S h ints .u a possible ri'lis)ous faccor fuding chc rL'VUit: The dl•scruction of idols had long been associated v,:ith che m essianic age (Di.upor.' judaism, t29- 133}. For Augustine's aJiusion to such prophccic.s when the cmpcror Honorius, in 399 C.E., d osed pasan temples in Carthage, SL"C pp. 173-174 abow. 10. Hen Isaac providL'.S an l'Xhaustive survey of tlu building blocks of intc:r-t'thnic hatreds in 'fbt hwt•nlion of &td.rm h1 dassiral Antiqui~y; for Jews in particular, see 44o--491. He notes char ..Christian activity is responsible forth..- prt's erva· tion ofa good dcaJ o f ancicnc sourcc-macl'riaJ on Jews that is noc available for other ethnic groups in antiquity,,. 441. llle city o f Ro me occasionall)•cxpdll-d. furc isners, among \vhom Jews, in the lace Rcpublic and c.uly empire; fo r vary· ing analyses of the purposes and the t'ITc«s or chcSi' expulsions, compare the \•olumes by Gruen, Llmpe, and Barclay. 11. Nicely obscn 'l'd by G. Bohak, «111l· Jbis a11d the jewish Quescion)• 43. whose article rc\•icws some of (he truly scurrilous things t hat Greco-Roman writers said about Egyptians. r nsults d irected specifically against Jews arc co iiL-ctcd, organiud, and anaJr.tcd by P. Sch':ifer,judrophobi.-J; sec also L J':ddnun, Jt>ll-' am.l Gentile- i11 tlx Am:k-nt \llorid, who sorts hostile remarks according co popu· Jar prejudice (107-1ll) and learned pn•judicc (l1J-l76). 1~ On rhc rd i.gious diml!nsions o f Ro man adoptions, sec M.lkard , PJj-111 Prif!sts, j8. j).tul uses che language o f adoption as a metaphor fo r the way thac Gen· tiles, through Christ's baptis1n , c:mer into God's promises to Israel: they "rL"ccivc the adoption of son_..,. (Gal. 4:5 RSV); "and if sons then heirs" (Rom. S:r4-t7). On the language of political aJiiances ro d e-scribe Gentiles• "becoming,. Jcn:s, SL"C Cohen, T1w 8t'ginnings ofjc-U'isJm~s; 115- J39, 156-174· Domirian's moriv-:trions in accing against Flavius Clemens, Domitilla, and others arc obscure. Their bcing god-fca rc:rs, as opposed ro converts to Ju· da.ism, m ighc haw been eno ugh co giw Domitian an excuse: Aristocrats had dL•v.ated civic obligations and scrwd a.-. p riests, and Ro man elites W<' rt: p:.r· cicubrly exercised by "pollution" fro m foreign cults. P. Lam~. F1'0m H:mllo V.rlt>ntimu, 1!}8- 205, speculates that chc co up le wnc Christians, nor Jews; on

Notilf /()pages 27- ]1 · 395

t.J.

I+ 15.

16.

17.

chis issm:, I incline to trust Dio rather chan the later version of Eusebius., His· tory ofthe Churth J.t84 L-1mpc errs in stating chat the couple, as. J e\\~sh "sym· pathizers,. (as opposed to «conwrts"), "cannot likev.·i se religiously \\urship the emperor, and their loyalty is suspected" ( 204). Sympathizers-another term for the cacch-all '"god-fc-a rers,.-remaim-d pagans, and nothing prohibited them from continuins in chc)r native cults. "Some who haw had a father who rewre.s the Sabbath," complainL-d che Ro· m>ln satirist ju\'cnal, "worship nothing but the douds and the d ivinity of the hcawns., and sec no d ifference bet\\'\"en eacing swine's n esh (from which their f.uhcr had abstained) and rhat of a man. In rime, the)' take l'O cirnuncision. Having been inclined to n out Roman law, rhcy learn, follow and respccc Jew· ish law, and all chat t\·loscs handed do\.,.·n in his secret book: forbidding [Jews) to give directions to anrone who d <M:s not cherish the same rites., leading only chose who arc (.1lsoj circumcised ro the fountain that they are lookins for. For all of this behavior the father was to blame, who ga\'e up cwry seventh day to idleness. scparatins it utterly from the concerns o f daily life,. (Sattn-s 14-96-106). t"l. Stern anaJy.t.es this and others o f Jm\"nal's poetic insults co je\\'S in GJTrkand Wlin Authors em }f!fllf and juddism, 2:94-10]. The offense to an· cestral custom also bothered the philosopher Cclsus (late se
J96 · Not,•s to

18..

19.

20.

Jt -43

sketch o f his relations wirh che earlier apostles back in Jerusalem, and his call to 1x a n emissary ro pagans (Gal. J:t6-!:to). Other Jews in che mO\'Cmenc a lso wo rked t'O induct pas;ms: Paul addresses his letter to a (mostly pag.1.n? en· tirdy pagan?) Christian communit)' at Ro me, where he has yrt co visit (Rom. 15:13). This positive pagan n•sponse to che gospd causL-d contro\\':rsy and con· stemation fo r Jews both inside and outside the nev,: mm·ement. Many Jewish ttadirions articulate the-se two poles of op inion, wirh manr vie\~tS r.,_mng between che two extremes. l11C Dead ~a Scrolls express rhe m osc e:-:dusivist extreme, anticipating redemption solely for members o f the sccc; some rabbinic texts, and the btc r rabbinic tr.tdition, anticipate the redemption both of lsrad and of the nations. for an o rdered and .-tmple ovcr\'iew o f chis material, sec E. P. Sanders, Paul aml J~destini:m jutku'sm. rvli.sh· nah Sanhedrin tO, a late-second o r early-third·cl.'nturr uxt, seems to want to split the difference: "'All lsrarl has a place in the world to come..,,. ir as.o;erts, while immediately going on to list the IJewishJ ewt-prions ("And these shall haw no place . . ."}. "T he uniwrsaJisc passages in Old Tesr.amc:nr prophccr, mosc signally Second isaiah's prediction that alJ nations will ewntually worship God alone. stop short o f making Jews of all m:mkind," notl.'s T homas Braun, "The Jews in the late Roman Empire," 157· For a mort- thorough rL"View o f these texts, SL'<' P. Fredriksen, "Judaism, the Circumcision of Gentiles, and Apocalyptic Hope," 544-548. Hy the m id-second century, hostile gentile Christians were famil iar enousJt \\~th this Jewish eschatological chtme-namdy, that when God (or his messiah) est.Jblishes his kingdom, the nations will stop wo rshiping idols and wiU enter the kingdom without converting co Judaism-th.u thL'Y in· \'Okcd it co assert that, by che Jews' own standards, Jesus must haw btcn the m essiah . S!."i:, c:.g..,Juscin, Dutlo~ with liJpho Lll-r!J; and Tcrtutlian, A:g1111st Man:iQn J.!0-.2J. On synagog.uc.s as t hl.' first port o f call fo r these missionaries, SL'r, e.g.., Acts 13:5 ("\'<'hen tht')' arrived at SaJamis, they procla imed the wol\~ of God in the synagogues of the Jews"). Paul preaches in chc synagogue o f Pisid ian Anti· och, attracting jews., p roselytes (i.e., converts to J udaism), and god·fl•ar-ing pagans, bur is d r iven from tO\'r'n by his host communit)'; Aces tJ:t.f.-51. (A similar scory. ending again with the apostles run om of town, is set in leo· nium; Acts t.p-7.) Paul is stoned in lystra (Acts 14=-19), brought before town magistrates by irate p ag.ms in Philippi and beattn with rods (Acts J6:t9-ll), and is accustd before tltl.' city authorities in T hess.tlonica {Acts 17-1-9) and before che !{oman p rocounsul in Corinth (Acts t8:1.2-17). In Ephesus, the gospel ignites an urban riot by enraged pagans seeking to p ro tect the local cult o f the goddess Artemis (Acts J9:2J-4t). Fo r Paul's own description of his woes, inflictL-d variously by Jews, Greeks, and Romans, S« l Corinthians 4:8-9; 6:4-5; and 11:4 - 16. CHAPTER

1.

po~gn

3: I,:\ IDE I:\: PAOAN, JEWISH, CHR ISTIAN

Philosophers were not the only genre of pagan monotheisrs. Asia t\4inor was the cradle of the cult of 'l'bt."''S H)ps.is.tos ("the highest god"), a popular third· n•ntury C.E. pagom form of monotheism . T his cult wa.'> aJso aniconic, worshiping the- highl.'sc god through solar piety, lamps, and hymns. Pourth·century

Notes ro pagn 4)- 45 · J97 Christian h er~·hunters co mplained that this community mimicked the church. hts.::riptions and sit6 belonging co these worshipers haw been found in areas t hat aJso hdd S)'nagogucs, which m ight mean that their cult had bl"t'n stimulated by co ntact with Jews. Por pagan monotheism both "high'' and "low," Sl"C most recently thc essays gathered in P. Achanassiadi and M. Frede, f{z!lm .1\.'/onothct.rm in Lak Antiquity. cspecia.lly the cssar br S. Micchdl, «Thl• Cult of.lbros H)'psitos." l. Hellenistic Plaronisrs '"had disputed whether Matter was an inert, fo rmless and hence ethic.:tlly neurra.l entity," writes R. 'J: Wallis, "or an active principle of e\~L" The gri'ar pagan Nl-oplatonist J'lotinus, he continues, "characreris-tl· cally olTcrs a paradoxical combination of both views. Sin-ce goodness consists in form, he arsurs, it is precisely Marter's lack of any form v,:hatevcr that prO\,.es its idemity with Absolute Evil. ... Plotinus, hov.-c,•er, is no dualist; his Matter is nor an independently u isting principle, bur rhe point at which the outflow of rcalit)' from the One f.1.dcs away into utter darkness. Matti'r's l'Vil is thus nor a posicive fo rce ... !but rather) an ucrcr sterilit)', or •po\'crty,> which communicates irs own deficiency to the bodies based on it, and thus bL"Comcs the source of all cht sensible world's imperfections, including ... thl· v..ickedncss o f individual so uls" (NwplaUmi.ms, 49-50, with many n·fcrcnces to Plocinus' Ennr'ads). 3· A. 0 . Nock, in h is L-dition of the pagan Sallustius' cssar on theology and cosmolog)', provides a rour thro ugh che metaphysics of th is idea of the uni-..'t'rsc and introduces its man)' intermediaries. For the ways thar rhis cosmic architecture and irs implic.uions affected J ~'''~sh and, later, Christian thcolos y, sec H. Chadwick, E.arl)• Cbristian Thought mtd tlx- Cl.wical 7i-adititm; Sl~ a.lso A. Sco tt, 0Jigm and thr' Lifo oftlx Stars, 53- J7l. 4· i-'l'ter Stneck's recent study lffl; Birth ofthe S)•mlwl pro\'idrs a wonderful!)' rich c.ntr}' into t he compkx incerprcciw world o f ancient GrL'l"k en igma. mrsrery. srmbol, and allegor)'. (All th ose rrrms function as synonyms in these exercises in ancient intcrprcr.-.tion.) Such litcmry efforts could be made o nlr by a literate .tnd educated d ire, but this way ofthinkins symbolicaU}' and allegorically had a trickle-down c-fli-ct into thl· more general population through rl"ligious r itual prac-rjce and h oly space. Srruck•s examination o f a mural found in Hem's temple on the island or Samos (rhird century !t C.E.?) deftly makes this point. «In this murnJ, Hera is depicted as fellating Zeus, and we arc to ld ... rhat Chrysippus Ia third.-centurr Sto ic philosopher! inrcrprctl-d rhc painring allegorically: it portrayed maner receiving the s~m1<1tikoi l.ogoi o f till' divine." He continues that later Christian writers found this interpretation implausible and rhe p:tinting itself scandaJous, and they took Chrrsippus· interpretation as evidence that he too w.ts embarrassed by the temple's .:trr. Struck continues, "It is most doubtful that the artist was attempting co shock; th is simp!)' would no t make sense .u the largest and most important (and expensive) center of active worship of the Greeks' highest-ranking godd~ss. If the drawing were offensive, embarrassing, o r sacrilegious in the eJ~ o f the priests or the worshipers, \\'C' can safdy assume that it wo uld nor ha\'C lasted .1 minute on rhe '"·a iL What did the artist, the priests, and rhe wo rshipers Sl'C when they looked
make: scn.sL' ... or is he, ouc of some assumed embarrassment, passing off a hermeneuticnl whopper? T he former SL"Cms to me much more: likely'' (280181).

11111'c: recent liw:ly and learned appreciations o f the Wol)"S that Hd lenistic Jews admired and appropria.red Greek lear ned culture may be found in E. Gruen•.s Viaspura and Hcrild!J.' and Hellmism, an d in J. Barclay's JrW1 in th~ W't!stern Mc..Jitemm.ran Viaspurtt. 6. For a pagan statement of the same interpretive principle, .SL"i" Sallustius, Ct.m· n-mmg the Guds .tttd the Uttif~nr, j: "Th.lt rhe myths are di\~ ne can be: SL"i"ll by those v,:ho have u.srd them-inspired poets, the IX'.sr philosophers, and the gods thcmsdw:.s in oracles.... But why d o they contain stories of adulccrr, robbery, fachcr-binding, and all thl· ocher absurdity? Js it noc ~rhaps a thing \\X>rthrofadmiration, d one so that by means o f the visible absurdit)', the soul may immediately feel th;u the wo rds .ul.' veils, and bdicve the Truth to 1w a myste ry?·" l..ttL'r Christian writers Wl'rc no more ready than their pagan and Jewish counRrparts had bL't'n to cxrcnd the courtesy of aUegor ica1 reading to the myths of outsiders; meanwhile, of course, such "spiritual" understandings \\'tre d e rigueur for Christian tc:xn1al inrrrprecation.. The less learm-d within one's ov.:n co mmunity, for chis re.1son, could pose no less a chaJJrngc chnn hostile outsiders. Thus Origrn ofAJexandria, in the early third century: "'Sim· plcr Christians ... bdiC'.-c such thing::; o f the Cr!.'ator .u would not be betiewd o fc he most sav.tgl' and unjust o f men .... T he reason that they make impious o r ignorant assertions about God is simply this: that scripturi' i.s not unde r~ stood in its spiricuaJ sense, but is inc.:rpretL'hilosoph)' in later Antiquity.'' 41-79. 9· Ancient pagans took seriou.slr the idea char gods might appear in the likeness of human beings. Josephus relates rhe story of a Roman macron and h!.'r hus· band who wer\! dL-cei\•cd b)• a conni\~ns suitor zmd a deceitful priest. With her husband•s perm ission, the woman Wl.'nt into the s od's sanctuary where the suiror, impersonating chc god, sexually violated her: "'shl· wa.s .at his .service all night, supposing chat he was the god" (Antiquities 18.66-So). According to Acts, after PauJ wo rked a spcccacular run· in L)'stra, the v.:atching crowd c ried out, "The gods h.1vc come d own co us in human form!" and attL'mpt to sac· 5·

Notts /{) p.tges 55-71 · 399 rifi c.:- oxen to Pa ul (who m they idl.'.ntify as Hcm1cs) and to Barnabus ("Zl•us") (Acts f4:8-1S). O n the Syrian divinit)' ocn,candrirc-s" (tlx'm means «god," ant'r means •·man "), set Bowersock, Hellrni.<m in lAW Antiqui~) 18. 10. O n the rd isious and scientific signific.uKc o f this idl-a of tlu· cosmos, «which Lucr antiquiry inhcritl'd from Aristodl." and the Hellenistic astronomers," sec E. It Dodds, Pa~pn ~wd ChristiAn iJJ an A,ge {)fllnri'i)~ 6-14. 1·he ubiquiry of the zodiac, attested in pagan, Jewish, ;md Christian matcriJ.J culture, n"\~als the rc· lig.ioust'cumenis•n ofthis view of the uniwrsc and of its an:hittccurc. For a dc.tr pagan statement on the uni\'crsc's relation to chc sinsle high god, s.:-c Sallustius, Ccma-rmng the Cicxls ~md tht• Unit.'t'nt. In the late fourth century, the Manichce Faustus idcncifi~.--d such monotheism-the «bd icf in a sin gle principlt'" that stands as th e source of this cosmos-as a v.:ay of thinking about the world tha t \o,.a s common to pagans, Jews, and catholic Christia ns (1\.'§linst Pauslus 20.3-4). n. lampe gi\'e.s a thorough n_"'·iew o f thcs.r- theolosians' IC'<>tls of education in Paul f{) \.~1/entil:m, 241-256 (Marcion), 257- 284 (Justin), 292-318 (Valcntinians). He o bserw s that, of the three, Marcion s:«ms to haw h:td the le-ase am ount of«hig.hcr" educ-arion stxcifimlly in philosophy. Uut to rhc dcgn'i: that ,\<Jar· c-ion attempted (on chc C'<·idencc, successfully) co build a rational and consis· ct:nc theological srstem based o n close rc.1dings of rrccived texts (in his case most rsprcially the letters of l'a ul) together wich a mode o f life consistt'nc with such a thl'Oiogy, Ma rcion was engaged in what contem poraries would ct'rtainly identify as a phi losoph i c:~-1 t'OCerprise. 12. The Valentinian Pto1emr introduces some rules for how to rt'a d Mosl."s' books co rrectly in Lrtter to Flom (prcscn •cd. in Epiphanius, Hm.:Jrion 33-3-7). Until the middle o f rhc last century, scholars had co rely mainlr on the hostile descrip· tions of his Christian o pponents for knowledge o f Valcn1inus' work. With the 1948 d iscovi':ry o f che Nag Hammadj libmrr in Eb)'pt, this sin1:1tion improwd significantly. Many of the rescued codices concaim-d. Coptic cranslacions of earlier, G rttk writings from Valcnrinus and his schooL For translations of these, see l'hr Nag Hamm and Rt•alil); 161- 2]0. 14- "The gospels could not possibly be cithcc more o r less in number chan th~.--y arc," taught lrcnacus, bishop of Lyon, taking aim, rcspccciwly, at Valt·ncini· ans (who had too many gospels) and Marcionice.s (who, with o nly o ne gospel, had too few). lrcnacus explained why this was so. "'Since there arc four zones of the world in whjch \\o\': live, and four principal winds, th e c hu rch . .. fit· tingly has fo ur pillars, L"Vcry\"' herc breathing out incorruption and n·vivifying men. Prom chis it is d ear that the Logos, the artificer o f all thi n~, he who sits upon the. cherubim and sustains all things ... gavt' us che gospd in four· fo ld form , though hdd together by one Spirit.... for the c her ubim haw fo ur

400 •

Notes to pagn 72- 80

f.1ccs, .1nd their facts arc images of the acri..·iry of the Son of God... . JAndJ the sospds, in which Christ is cnthronL-d, arc likr chest" (Agmut He'f'C'Sit"i tt,S). 15. The ferocity of this family quarrel o nly got wors.r as time passL"tn the least concession to reach agreement, fo r they un crly d r test e.a.ch ocher," reported by Origen (A&Jiml Cdms 5.6j). Origcn docs not denr the truth of Cds.us' description but observes that such interscctarian bincrnes.-. also char.tctcrizcos pagan philosophers and pagan medical docrors. All of these parties, o f course, would be arguing with e,1.ch o ther b)• using the rhctoricaJ wrestJing holds that thL'Y had h·arned in the schools. 16. "A Chrisrian author might identify a fellow Christian .as a 'Je'\\'' if it sui red his argunwm," n otes J. Knust. "Alternatively, an autho r might invent :t fictionaJ, o r loosely hisro ricaJ, 'Jew' for the purpo.sc.s o f sdf~defin i cion and identity cn~­ ation. This was especially thr case in heresiolosical lircratun:, v.:hich accusL-d target Christians o f being either'too Jewish' o r 'too Greek'" («Early Chrisrian Rc-\l'r-iting,"' 491; the quotation in the text .Wove is from p. 493). Knust 's ~s­ say traces tht c:\:tremc p lasticity, both trxtualand interpretive, of the story of Jesus and the adulterous wo man, v.:hich noars in diiTl•rent m>lnuscript tradi· tions of Luke and ofJohn. By the fourth centu ry. interpretations o f t his particular srory had become discinctlr anti·Jtwish. Knust's essay dr:w.·s on a seminal article by David Brakke, which ana· 1yzL-d the ways that Athanasius' rheroric.tl alchemy turm-d local Christians o pposing At h.a.nasius on the date of Easter into enemy "Jews" ("'Jewish Flesh and Chri.stiJ.n Spirir in Athan.1sius of AJe>:andria"). Brakke nicely breaks down the "constntctcd J udaism" of this in trn·Chr isrianf.m ti-jc\vish rheto r ic into b inary o pposites (sc~ his chart, 478).

r

CHAPTER .. PAGA NS, J EW.S, :\ND C f'IR ISTIANS I N T HE MEDITEnRANEAN C IT\'

r.

The quotation in t his parasraph is from Sanders, who goes o n to noce, "If Paul h.td considered that he had withdr.twn fro nl judaisn1, he would n or have attend ed synagogue. If t he members o frhe synagogue had consid ered him an outsid.:r, they would not have punished him" (P.Jtd, tbr Lat~
pi<, 19l). Scholars habitually d.:scribc t>.aul's evansdizing acti\.·ity as h is "'m ission to the Gentiles," b ur th is phrase obscures t h.at mission's abiding syna,s:oguc cont.:xt. First, the d ensity of scriptum! references in his letters broadcasts Paul's presumption that h is gentile n··
Notes to pagts gum~:nr, on the sw:ngch of Oeureronomy

81} - 8.} • 401

ll:lJ (..curs~.--d of God is t'vcry 1nan hanged on a tr~.--r"). took o ffense at the idea of a curstd messi.th. Others conjccturt' legal offense. T he Torah would be cancdcd in the days of the ml!!>siah; thcrcforc,Jcws feared that the proclamation ofJesus as mt-ssiah would induce a gcneraJ defection on the part of J ~.-•ws from t he 1-"lw. (This last theory par· cicularly runs aground on the point t hat Jesus' e.trlicst apostles obviously choug.hc that ht was the mc..,.siah, and rct- .1-" the arsumcnt over kosher food in Antioch demonstrated IGaL 2:t- tjJ- Jesus' earliest apostles also continued co liw according to Jev..·ish tradition.) Or perhaps these diaspomJews were ex· crcisi"'CC by the Gc:milcs' claim that they, too, wert' no\\; in Christ, .aJso members of the people of God. (Tnis last conjecture, currently enjoying a \'oguc among New 1Cstament scholars, in cs.sencL' repeats the: accusnrions of ancient Chr isri.tn rh~tori c-namdy, that Jews did not \\•a nt to share snlvation with Gentiles.} More sensible chat any and all of these earlier speculations i-" Martin Goodman's proposal in his essay "The PcrsL'<-lltion of Vaul b).• Diaspora Jews... Goodman observes that, although "'there m ight have been all sorts of thrologirol reasons for Jewish hO-"tility to early Christians, rheology aJone can never explain the risks taken by S)'llagogue authorities in i mposing vio lent discipline o n Christian jews such ns Paul,. (187). lnsr.:ad, hL· suggests, practi· ca.l concerns about the social consequences of the Chri...tian proclamation forfktgam motivated synagosuc authorities. "The problem fo r Paul's fdlon' J~.-·ws lay i n the hostile rl!r HaboJkkuk 8.8-Jj). Nor t'VCll Caiaphns, in the sospds, sot such bad press. For more bashing o f the Jrrusalcm pr iests, St"e too JJamd$CUS /Jowmcmt. in G. Vermes, Dfttd St'a Scrolls in En!)is.b. 3· Oriscn, in t he early chird century C.E., cornmented on t he quarrelsomeness and factiousness oflare Second Temple Judaism. "'There was in Judaism a f.tcro r v,:hich caused sects ro begin, which was rhc: variety of the interpretations of t he writings o f MoSt'S and the s.ayings of the prophets" (A§1imt Cdsus J.ll). On the ways that Jewish sectarian writings can trrutsmute into semile anti· Jewish writings, sec John Marshall, "ApocaJypticjsn'l and Anti-Semitism ... 4· The accus.ttion o f Jewish culpability for Jesus' d .-ath appears in an early source, Paul's letter 1 11'1css. l:J4- J6. The passage, howcwr, is o f d ispurcd au· chenticity, because ir ill accords w1ch what P.tul has to say in his other letters about Jesus' dC'ath, and it su conforms to rcrogniz.:tbly posr-70 polemical

402 · Nores 10

pagrs

SJ - &7

theml"S. For a concise review of t hese problems, sec H. Pe.1rson, "'1 ThessaJonians l:.lj- 16."' On the growth of this tmd icion of Jewish culpabilitr in the gospds themsclws, seeP. Fredriksen, From }t'Jus to Chris-'> J0]-1!6; fo r the: later iterations of this theme ofJev.:s as Chrisc-killcrs, SL"e R Wilken, jolm Chryros· tom ,md the }<'I~ l!j- 1!6. 8oth N. de Lange, Ongm and tffl! Je•vs, 78-79,and J. Lieu, lmatJ.' ~md Rralil)\ !81- 282, discuss the ways that the twinnL-d defeats of 70 and o f J35 n-verberatc in later Christian tradition. 5· Trypho, the Jewish incerlocucor in justin's fJ.mous d i.1logue, litcr.tlly r~prL"­ scnts this idea. 11lough J ustin presents Trypho a.s a Hellenistic Jev.: (v..-cll-read philosophically, oril•nted to the Scpcuaginc as his biblical text, fluent in Greek, and so on), he cnscs his interlocutor as "a refugee fro m the recent wars;• that is, the Bar Kokhba rebellion in 1}2:-135 C.E. ('l'r)pht> 1). This Chris. cian assertion that the Rom.tn conquest of Jerusalem in ]0 C.E. and the destruction of the Temple inaugurated the "second exile" masks two important histo rical rcaJities: the antiquity of the Jewish settlements in t he western Di· aspora, and che continuity of Jewish settlement in the land of Israel. The later rabbinic traditions that emanate from the land of Israel evince no such consciousness of exile, for chc good reason that t he Galilean rabbis wert' still "at home... In short, the idea or the year 70 as thl' stare of a second exile was originally Christian. J~u:i.
8. \'(re ha"'C no way of knowing \~,-·hcther dia.o;pora Jews improvised sacrificia l of fe rings where t hL"}' \\T .rc, as they imprm,.iscd various purification rituals (on which , &nders,]C:'wish L.1u; l55-l7J). Bgyprian Jews m.1de o ffe rings at che Jewish temple in Uoncopolis, which functioned from roughly 160 f~.C.E. to 73 C.£. Jews in the Diaspora continued to slaughter lambs fo r t he Passo'lter meal, .111 acti\•ity that outside observers occasionaJly mistook as o fferins sacrifices, as Augustine did in Gmr-!is .t§1imt d.v Mamdxcs t.2JAO (corrL'Cted in Rl:tntd(ltfons 4

1.9,1).

9· lkforc l l l C.£., individual Jews might be Roman citizens (as Paul is porrrayrd in Acts .u:25); after 2 12, the privilege was cxtcnd~..-d. to the emire free population of the empirr. For pr.nnission to Jc\vish parents to circumcise, SL't' Digpt 48.8.u; on jL•ws as members of ciry counc-ils, sec Di~'1t jO.l.).J; fuJI discussion in Linder,Jt'fl'.dl1 Roman lmpt>ri.al Legisl.ationJ 99-106. 10 . For the a rchaL'Oiogical C"t'idencc o f chc flo urishing synagogue culture of fourth·ct nrury .,,,lcstinc.., Sl"i' G. Sternberger, jeu1s and Christians in tht- 1-lu~y Lwd, 121-160. The famous synagogue at Sardis in Asia Min or stood at the heart of the ancient city, integ rated .architccturnJiy inco the same structure chat held the gymnasiwn. 11u· Jewish community there throvi' "right u p to che Persian destruction of t he ciry in 6J6,. (L J. lL'Vine, "Jl•wish Archaeology in Late Antiquity," 535); for ll•vine's whole surve}' of matl.'rials both in the Ui· aspora and in che Land of Israel fo r chis pt!riod, sec 519-555· This same vol· umc o f t he Cambridgi" H istOI)' ufjud&ism also includes valuable essays o n the Jewish communities of Italy (L. H.utg.::rs, "The Jew'S o f Italy," 491- jOS) and of Spain (where bleaker circumst.mccs pri'v.Uied in the \O,.'cter and P.1ul that date their martyrdoms to chis rvcnt, then Jewish .ts well.-.s sen tile Christians were arrested and p ut to d rath- m ou evidence that the issue was social scapc· goating rather th.tn religious persecution. L.:1tc Nrw Testament cexrs, such as the Episdl• to till' Hebrews, the INters o f Peter, .tnd (perhaps) Revelation seem \niccen in or to comtnunitics in time of pt.•rsccution, hl.'ncl.' mr vagueness in locating such .1ctivicy sometime in rhe late first century. Sci.' also Lieu's re· mark, quoted in che following notr. u. "It is not .always easy to distinguish here bcrv.-ccn the real consequences of :tc· tuaJ persecution .tnd the creation o f a mental world v.:here pcrsL•cucion and co nflicr is thl.' norm; hence the disp.uity betWL"i'n some schol.:trly estimatl.'s of the extent o f .tcruaJ persecmion before 1:50 C.f.. and irs brooding presence in much Christian literature"; J. lieu. h1wge .and Rralil)~ 281. t.J. "We aJso a rc a rdig.ious pL'Ople;" pro tests thl.' Roman proco nsul Saturninus in 180 C.E. to Ch ristians .urnigned before h im in Carthage (Sdllitan ft.l.trl:;rs 3). In his l'ffor ts to have chcm agree co swear by the genius of the emperor, Satur· ninus ri'pcat.::dly solicits their coopt!.r.uion. ("Cease to be of this persuasion,.. 7; "Have no pare in this folly!" 8; "You wish no time fo r consideration?" u; "You have a rcpriL'\\" o f thirty days. Think it o\-cr," tJ). "'Will you offer sacri· ftcl.'?,. asks t he proconsul Quintillian of Pionius in Smyrna (c. 250 C.f!.). "'No,.. answers l>ionius. "I am a c.acholic prcsb)'ter!' Quintiman: "'Offer sacrifice." l'i· onius: "No." QuinriHi:m: '"Do ~·ou pay heed to thr air? Then sacrifice to thl.' air!,. (!rlarlyrrlum of Piunim £9). Fear of hcawn spun·~..-d cheso: efforts; "thr be-st chat humans could hopt' for," David Potter rcm.arks, "was th3t thl.'y could

kel.'p the gods in a. good mood,. ("'Roman Rdigion," 134). On the spor.1dic and local nature o f pre-Dccian sacrificial initiatives and thl'-ir source in tradirionaJ piety, secT. L>. Hames. "legislation against rile Christians»; o n the theme of sacrificing to the emperor, F. tvlillar, "'The llnper-ial Cult and the J>ersccutions:'' Christians who were Jews escaped chis pressure to conform to the pracci c~ of the majorit)', because as j l.'ws their I.'XI.'mption from such cult wa.s ancient, tradition.1l, :md long acknO\dedged by majority culture. L~. Plinr, a provincial gowr nor, r~ports to the emperor Trajan in the l.'arlr SI.'C· ond century chac the Christians rried before h im had confcss~.--d to ml.'eting together "'to cake food, bur lonlyl ordinary and harmll.'ss food,. (Letter 10.96). J'anicularly after t he mid-third century, when imperial initiatives cast a wider and finer m·t, the main probl<'m faced b)• churches was how to deal with the significant numbers o f those who had lapsed, ,.,.·hethcr clergy or lay, whether by Oig.hc or b)' outright apostasy. On p risoners' e:.:l.'cutions staged as tableau.-.: drawn from mytholog)'. sec K. Coleman, «f'atal Charadl.'s.•• 15. For a brief introduction and a new English translation of 1'br LiW'f uf lhl' Proplx-1'5~ sec D. Hare in Ch:.rlesworrh, f'mul.-pigrapha 1.379-400. Hare dis· cusses the Chrisrian appropriation of thesr traditions funher in "llx Tbt·nu• uf thr jE'wi.
churches were empty because tht' Jews wei\" cdcbrating their h igh holidays, chis suggested chat the Jewish way was more authentic. If Christians used. the Jewish calendar ro set the dare o f a Christian festival, this could only mean that th!! Jews had t he true calcndnr. In such ,, setting there was no middl!! ground," ll Wilken, John C!Jrysorlqm and thr jf'r411, n - 78. Ro me, like Antioch, also had a large and wdl-t"scablishcd Jewish community, whosl! observance of Yom Kippur may ha\'1" stimubrcd the creation of an aucumn Christian countcrfast, Ember Day; sec D. StOkl Ben Ezra, "Whose Fast Is fr?'' 19. The Council o f Elvira in the early }OOs condemned Christians' marrying Jews (canon 16), asking Jews to bless lidds (c. 49), accepting Jewish hospitality (c. 50), and having sexual relations with Jews (c. 78}. Toward the end o f that ccn· tury, the Council of Laodccia prohibitL-d Christians from resting on the Sabbach and wo rking on Sundays (c. 19), from rec~ivi ng gifts from Jews and from heretics (c. 37), and specifically JTom accepting gifts o f matzah from J..-ws (c. 38). Nor, ruiL-d the bishops, should Christians share in Jewish fasts and feasts or tend lamps in synagogues on festal days o r pray together with heretics and Jcv,·s (Apostolic Cmwm., c. 69, 'JO, 6J). tinder collects and analras this Jcgisla· cion in jews hJ the i.e'8fl Somwsoft!H: £(lrly Middlr Aus. zo. The theme of non-Christian Je\-..·s forcing Christian J..-ws o ut o f srnagogue communities appears already in the late first c~ncury, r«rojcctcd back into the lifetime o f Jesus. Jn the Gospd o f John, the par~ms o f a b lind man cur'--d by Jesus avoid answl.'ring the hostile queril!s of"the J..-ws,'' "fm the Jews had already agrnd that if anyone should confess UcsusJ to be the Christ, he was ro b!! put out of the S}'nagogue" (John 9:23). Lacer second-century gentil!! Christian authors compbin o f Jews' cursing Christ, o r cursing Christians, in their synagogues. '''hether a "benediction against heretics" trtullian on t he Jews"). For an analysis of fou rth· and fifth-century violence, and thl.' sciztlrl' o r destruction of propl'rt)'. sec the c.xcdlem essays in \'01. 13 of Cambridgi: An· t·ienl HistorJ•: ·n~ Ltte- Empire> A.o. 337-42_\, c.spccially the chapt..-r by l'crrr Brown. "'Christianization and Rdigious Conflict"; also MacMullen, Cbristi· tWi~)' and P.1!1fnism.• .!1. Some pagans keep the Sabbath and Passovn,}W worship at tradirional altars, Terrullian, 1b tlw Nations I.I}.J- ..J; men in Phoenicia and l'alrstine, calling themselves god-fcarc.rs, co nsistc.ndy follow neither Jewish nor pagan customs, Cyril, On Worsb1p m Spirit t~nd 1Yuth }.92.3; some men li\\': bem-cen both ways, "half-j...-ws'' who rush fro1n synasogue m pag..m .shrine. The Jews ought to tell them that it is "Tong to worship the sods, Commodian, lmtmdiom L37,10. On d onor inscriptions by Gcncilcs {thus pcrh.lps Christians} in tht late H.o· man .synagogue, sec p. 19 abo,•e. Fergus Millar remarks on rhe "re\'olutiona.ry

406

·Notes lo pagu 96-98

implications,. of rt'-dating the Je·wish inscription from Aphrodi.sias, \\>'ith irs list of g~nti l e god·fea..rers, thac, togNher with the synagogue macerial from S3J'dis, «offers th~ occ-a.,.ion for a complete reevaluation of the place o f Ju· daism in the rdigious map of th~ late Roman Christian empire in the East. . .. As soon as we read this document, not as a product of the period when OOth Christian .:and Jewish communities li.,·cd as tolcr.ued o r threatened minoritie-s in
Notes ro

pag~s 98- tO& ·

407

chem.' p.tgan orator and the Jewish patriardt and vir droclus of Cons-r.:tncinople," J94). Later, in a fine frenzy of ecumenical frustration, t>roclus preac.ht.-d: Lc:t therefon: the pagans be killed! Let the Jcn:s be destrO)wn if no o ne wishi.'.S to make a martyr of you? As }'OU .m: a monk, go sic in fOUr cdl and kerp quiet. T his is my affair'" (Authonty and 1/x- Sa~ 51, citing Callinicus, lifo of HJ'fMrius 33). .!6. On Greek as the Jewish liturgic.allanguage in rhe Wes.r, sec Br.tdbury, Selt'TU$ of Minorc~ 32; also t\·lillar, "The JL'WS of the Gracco-Koman Diaspora" and "Christian Emperors, ChristiaJ1 Church, and chc- Jew.s o f the Oiaspora.» Wilken not~, "'In Greek-speaking cities, ewn in Palesrinl', t hr Jev,;s prn)'cd in Greek (jSot~fh 7.1..; 21b) and used Greek as rhe language of instruction'" Uobn Chrywstam and the }t't~~S1 57). Uuring the events around the forced ronwrsion ofJews on Minorca, both communities, Chris.tians and Jrws., spontaneously took up chc joint chanting of t>saJms: Presumably the language thtrc was

408 • .'f\1ott•s to pages tOfJ- tiJ6

Latin (IJ!ltt-r oJSct
On Christian writers' <W.liling themselves o f JL•wish learning whether dirccdy (Origcn,Je.romc) or indirccdr(as docs Augustim•, via Jero me), see A. Kas!.'mJJ·, ...r hc Evaluation of thl' Narratiw Aggada"; and the older discussions in de Lange, 0Ji~71 and the-}eli's; and in \tlilkcn,John Chr,ysMfom and tiN- jews. Tht Old Tcstam\'nt itself could always inspire pious Christians co Judaize. This seems to be the cas\' with one Aptus, a Norrh African Christian n:ho began urging his co -rdigionists co avoid certain meats and ro assume other ancient Jewish practices; SCl' Augustine, Letter 196 to Asdlicus.. 28. "It is because they arc Christians," observes Wilken, "char the Judaizers arc drawn to the Jews, and it is as Christians chnc they justif}' their actions.... JTjhC)' sanctioned their observance of the taw by appealing co the example of Jesus, who as a Jcv.' had kept the Law... He brings as examples Origen (Com· tmmtar:y on MatJiwur 79), Epiphanius {A~imt HI!MiC"S lS.j,l), and Chrpostom (Di«UUNC"S d!ftimtJudaizing Cbriftiam J.4), who aU mcnrion Christians' justifying th!.'.ir Jewish practice by fo llowins thl.'. exampll· o f jesus h imself. juhn CIJI')"StJstom and tlx- )ru')., 93-

!.] .

CHAPTER j : T IH! HERETIC 1.

2.

Uisputl"S h.1d long prm·ided cnterrainmem in antiquity, from the Hdlenis(ic age up through thl' lat\' Roman period. They ofTercd those trained in rflctoriC'al·philosophicaJ culture chc opportunity to demonstrate their skills, and listeners appreciated a good show o f vl.'rbal fi r~works. Augustine's reputation as a calentcd orator prccipirarcd his forced ordinarion at Hippo in 39t. The aged bishop therl.', Valerius. was a nati\'c Greek spcak!.'r. He announced at Sundar eucharist his intentions o f find ing a younger .and morl' verbally agile man to scrw as priest; t he crowd caught (he hint, stizcd the \'isiting Augus· tine, and ri'fuscd. co release him until he acquiesced (Lift• 4). 5« aJso p. 138 abow. On JL'WS residing in Hippo, SL't', e.g., SrnJ:01J 196.4, and p. 310 above. \'>/'cs(ern Manichccs used public dispuus as a means to missionizc, a style wdl suited to the roung Augustim•'s tl'mpcrament nnd training. While an f:Uditor ofrhe sect in Carthage, he cheerfully exercised his skills in this new forum (On Jhr ·n"v StJtds a;;imt thr Manid~s 9.u. For che rumor that he had been exiled from Carthage because of his sectarian affiliation, SL"C AnsAA'?· to Pt·tilian j.2jJO. Augustine hnd in f.tcr left for Rome in jSj, three rears brfore the proconsul's purge. An account o f the latter part o f Mani's life is prl•servcd in an extraordinary Greek codex d iscovered in 1969. ·rhe most rL"Ccnr brief biography is available in che excdlcnt collection L-d.ited br I. Gardner and S. Lieu, Manifh.1-ran 'lt-xh from the- Roman EmpiJ7!) J-8. A \
N&tes 10 p.tgrs J06- tJb · 409

riched scholarly resources. Older, still-v.-tluabh: studies include H. C. rucch, i.J.• Manic/H!isme; F. Decrct, M.tm: cl Ia lr(o·ditfOIJ mamchimnc; and M. Tardir u, i.J.• Manic/H!isme. For an analysis o f the mmxo.ment thar focuses o n ritual rarhl'r than doccrinl', SCI.' J. BI.'Ouhn, 'l11e Ma11id"-11!dn Bod)' h• Disdpliuc ublic Institution," 274}. S~.-"t" also f'. Brown, "The Diffusion of ~vl an i chacism in t hr Roman Empire,.; and J. O'Meara, J'br Ywmg Augush'm:, tOJ. On the discowry of a tvl.-tnichaean m issionary sheltering in the catholic hicr archy, Gardner and Lieu, Manicha.-an 1Cxls 1-Jj. On t>r iscillian and thl.' \o,.·ays that his encmil.'.s pre~ nrcd him, sec V. Burrus, •ttlf! 11./aking ofa Herdic. s. "According to yo ur s.tcrilcgious nonsense, Christ is nor only minsled with heaven and aU the stars," thundered Augustine rhc bishop c. 399 C.E., "bur he is conjoined and compoundL-d with thr earth and ewryrhing born of it. no longl'ryour S.l\~or, bur needing to be s..wed by you, by your chev.:ing and belching. This impious fancasy leads your auditors to bring rou food , so that by ~'Our t~.-'i:th and bellies }'OU can liberate Christ, who is bound up in ic" (A&:fillsl Famlm 2.5). The cciquecce o f dismissing the non-iniri.ati' members before thl' sacred mea) has obvious paraJicls with less c.xotic Christian practice:•: catholic c.:trrchumrns aJso had ro retire before the eucharist. The strictures binding audito rs pcrmirt~.-"<1 them to marry bur d iscour· aged procreation (births prolonged the enrrapmenr oflight), and they could sti11 1iw in t he wo rld and own p ro perry (as, indeed, rhe )'OunsAugusrine did). Bringing. alms to the Elect v.:as a d.t.ily d iscipline, as wcrl.'. the community's prayers, which were augmencL-d by wl.'ekly fasts o n Sunday. The efforts of thl' Elrcr whom t hey sustained, meanwhile, counO!d coward their merir too, so chat in their ntxt cydl• o flife, an auditor might be reincarnated as an Elector perhaps, Augustine much l.arer obserwd \\~t'h collCl'lllpt, "if they possess grcare.r merit, they shall enter into melons o r rucumlx:rs or some orher food for rou Ithe Electl to chew, to be purified through your d igestion" (Ag.1iml 4

4

1-"amlus j.JO).

6. Both Augustine pm- Happy Lift: ..J) and the t\·lanicltc.'('S (l'ht.> Usefidm•ss of Bdief 1.2) charactl.'rized the catholic Christianity of his youth as sr~pertlitio. Tlw Manichaean claim to superior rationality obviousJr appealed to the }'Oung Augustine, and hi.' alludes to it often~ sec e.g.. 'l11e HapPJ• Lifo t.4; Morals oflilt' Church 2J; Ustfrdn.-.u of Bebtf t,l; Ctmf. 3.6,10; and A[llimt Fauslus 20.J n.r in· ce-nse asceticism of the Elect dearly imprcssL-d him at the time aJso, thous h in his latl.'.r anti-Manichaean tracts, whcrher rhrough insinuation or outright

insult, he s.uggl.'st.-. ch.:.t rhey \\'l!re secretly profligate; see Momls of tbr Chun·h 1.2 ("they make a great show or c has.tity and of norable .abstinence"); Mamrh.:-rran o\IQr.t/s 20.74; later, and mon: scurrilous, About Hm-sie.< 46.9-10. On his unnerving rcaJiz.ation char the genealogies rdatL-d in the gospds of Matthew and o f Luke d o not correspond, sec Srnnmr 5'·5-6. Faustus had had similar problems with these d iscrepancies (Against Flfus.tus j..J). 7· On the simil.uities (and ditTcrc.nce.s) bo::twt'cn t\·1arcion's and Mani's vil•ws on New Tcs.tamenr texts, especially the Pauline letters, sec Tardieu, '"les prin· cipes de l'exCgCse manichCcnne." l4l- f44· 8. "Remembn that the promise ofCana.:m in chc O ld l 'tsramcnc is made to the Jews, that is, to the circumcised, who o ffer s.acrifice, and .:.bsrain from sY..inc's flesh , and from other animals which Moses pronounced unclean, and who obscrvt' Sabbaths, .tnd thl• Feast of Unlc.t\'ened l~read lP.assovcrJ, and other things of the sam e kind which ch.- Old l Cstamenc•.s author e-njoined," observed Faustus.. "Chris.tians ha.,·e not adopt.:d these obscr\'anccs, and no one kL't'"ps chem. Jf we will not take rhe inheritance, we should surrendl•r the doc· umcnts" (Aj~imt Fatmus 4.1; see .tlso 6.1). 9· Norch African Christians, both the catholic minor ity and the Donatis.t rna· jority, were given ro energetic millenarian convictions. A spt-"Cifically African chronographicnl trad ition had identified the zone of rime corresponding to .JOO-jOO C.E. as the 6,oooch ~>ea r s-ince the creation of rhe uniw.rse and thus the period co expect rhc Second Coming o f Christ and t he resurrection o f the saints.. Both churches, further, were much given to fcasring with food and drink ar the graves of the holy d~·ad, a custom that greatly embarrassed Hippo's new, cosmopolitan priest. ("Fleshly gorging,,. can~a{is h1gurgilalio, Au· gustine com.plaincd; Uttrr 29.11). On t he feasts for the dead, sec espc:ciaJJy F. van dcr Meer, AugMtim•the Bishop., 498-525~ s.ce alsoP. Brown, ·tm. Cu/J ofll.v Sail:lf. On North African millcnari.snism, see P. Fredriksen, "'A pocalypse and Redemption in Early Christianity.'' On contesting Jewish and Christian un· dersnmdings of final redemption and how these affected both biblical int<'r· prctation and attitudes roward JerusaJem and rhc Land o f lsrad, sec H.. Wilken, lAnd Callrd Hoi)'· F:.usrus' jibe about the ...,.·idem paganism of these Christian c-on\'ictions and practices h it home: "The LpaganJ sacrifices you chansed into love· feast~ the id ols into martyrs, who1n rou pray l'O as pagans do to idols. You appc.tse the ghosts o f the dead with food and wine. You keep the same holidays as the pagans d o, rhe new ye.:.r i n Januar)', the mid·summer and mid·winter fio.asts.. Jn your way o f li\oing you ha..·e made no chnngc ar a ll" (A~mst Faustus lO. ..f). Augustine worhd hard to n\'an his congregation in Hippo away from s.uch festivities, and his effort traumatized both parries (Lrtl<:'Y ll.l- 8). 10. Since Augustine and his common·lav,: wife had o nly one child together in the courst" of their rt'lationship, during. mosr of which rime he h.td been an ..uuli· /Qr; it seems probable that they practiced contraception .tccording co the rh)rthm method, then commended by his church but condemned b)•hers. Au· gus.rine hinr.s at chis in Con[. 4.2,2.. 11. Augustine's efforcs as a Manichec to proselytize do not seem co have cxrendcd to the two women in h is life, his mother, Monnica, and his unnamed wife. When Augustine r<'turned home co T haga.ste for what tuntL-d our to be a brier stint o f teaching grammar, his mother inicially r.:fuscd to have the young

·nx-

Notes ro page-r Uj - 122 · 411 ~vl an i chL"t'

und.,..r her roofor at her table (Conf J.9,£9; sh.,.. e\•entually ro:lenttd). His C.uth;tglnian spouse he .,..ncountc:red in his pre-Manichaean dars, at a catholic service (C<mf. J3.5)· When, fiftct·n )i 56-73· 12. Augustim• d csc:rib....s his mounting disenchantment in Book 5 of the Co11fi's· siam. Manichae.:tn astral traditions d id not square with thc p hysical sciences (Conf.. 5.2.,}- 3.9). Though they insisted that New Testament texts hnd been cor· tuptrd by Judaiz('rs, they could nrwr produce uncorrupted copies (s.6,l.J). Faustus, the much-anticipated hbJ1ichaean bishop. prowd co 1x: a d isap· pointment (5-4.10-13). 13. Faustus points to contempt for Jews and Judaism as co1nmon ground between c.uholics and Manichccs: "l rcjL'Ct circumcision as disgusting, and so do rou. J reject obsrrving Sabbath as supernuous~ you do, coo. I reject sacrifice- as i dolatry~ )'OU do roo.. . . \V(' both look upon the \'leeks o fP.:tssovcr and Sukkot as unneccssar r and useless," and he socs on to ridicule o ther b i bl i c:~-1 l!.'gislarion as "'things which we both dl'spisc .and laugh at'' ( A§fiiJst F&mlus 6.1). Augustine rt'porcs that the Manichc:cs "asserted char the scripn1rcs of the New Testament' had be-en tampered with by persons unknov.:n, v..·ho wanted co insert t he Jews"' Jaw into chc Christi.tn faith,.. buc that their persuasi\'eness on chis point suiTl•J'L-d. by their inability to product' any unco rruptL-d copies (Conf.. j .H,2J). 14. "Gi'ntiles" in Faustus' remark refers to «p:.gans." Greco-Ro man culture was unabaslu'CUy anthropomorp hic in depicting deity. In th is v..-ay, Faustus uni'ltrsalizcs the erro r against v..·hich Mani caught: Ewr)'o ne, he says, pasans, Jcv..·s. and catholic Christians, wrongly co nslrucd the rdation o f divinity and humanity.Thjs passage of Ag.Jiml. F.-zustus is fiJJcd \\-ith references to the Gospd of John and ro the Pauline leucrs, thus making (he case that in rejecting Manichaeism, catholics rejccc both the gospel and the teaching of Vaul. CHAPT ER 1.

6:

THB SOJOURNER

lksc:ribing the strugsle betw~.-'<'n Syrnmachus and Ambrose over Ronll•'s Altar of Victory. J'dcr Brown comments. "Smarting under so d ram:. tic a snub to che traditional religion, Symmachus may wdJ haw been glad ro ensure that a man such as Augustine. knm.vn co him as a member o f a \iolcntly anti· Catholic sect, wo uld be in a position to speak before the Emperor;" Augtutine of Hippo, 70. Augustine's position as rvlilan's pro fus sor o f rhetoric meant that he had to d d ivrr speeches praising th e- emperor to the empl'ror. ("How unhappy I was ... o n the day when I was preparing to ddi·vrr a panegyric on rhe l'mpcror! In the co urse of it I would tdl numerous lies, and for my mendacity \\'Ou)d win rhc good opinion of peo ple who knew it ( O lx- untrue"; Con[. 6.6,9). Neil Mclynn points out as wdl that political circumstances had con-

4-12 •

Ndtes to pagu

l:H - ljt

spin,_'({ ro minimize competition for this post-som~thing els~ that wo rked to Augustine's advancag~. offs~tting his Jack ofimporunt, l"srablished locaJ pa· trons (Ambrose of.'l'lilan., t69--t/O}. l. "Valentinian's court lacked a single focus," Mcl.ynn norrs. (Small surprise, in ,;cw of the emperor's age.) "Augustin~'s afternoons were consignL'CI to the arduous and frustrating senrch for reliable patrons. His diA-Icultics wdl reflect the shifting, elusive balance of pow~r in Milan. It is perhaps not surprising that he was incri!asingly drawn to, and C'\>l:ntuaJiy captured by, one of rhe city's fL·w solld .,_nd reliable institutions: t he church o f Hishop Ambrose," Am· lmm~ of !111/tm, 1]0; sec roo Conf. 6.u ,1S. Augustin~'s position J..S thc city's rhcror- would ha\'e made him ~xtn:mcly conscious of his foreign ac.cenr (On Ord-rr l .t7.45). j. lltc "'\'aS( o rdered COSil'IOS.. or tht' Ncoplatonists, o bserves R. Markus, had its source in "the tmnsccndcnt One, be~·ond Spt"~ch and b~yond thought. which co1nmunicatcd itself to beings below it in the infinitely ordered h i· ernrchy down to the lowest lewis of t hc system. T he universe w.ts p1cturLxl as a sort o f cascade of d ivine Jig.ht descending from its transccnd~m origin, d issipating itself gr.1dually in multiplicity, limitation, and ultimately thc darkness o f non-being. The dcsct:nding sclf·communic.uion of the Onc constit utes a cosmic h ierarchy which pro\tidrs the soul with the rouu•_for its ascent. To liberate itsdf from the realm o f darkncss and muhiplicit)' the soul needs to retrace the univl'rs.'ll o rder, ascending from its place o f exile, from its dissipation among material thing." and multipliciry, to irs goal and its true home," C:ontY.•rsion ttnd Visrncba11l1tw,,t in Augustin~'s Spiril~al Cdt't""t't; 14- 15. P. Brown provides a lucid ovcn•icw of the spccificaJiy Chr istian aspecrs of Milanese NcopJatonism, Augustin.- ofHippo, 88-100 . 4· "Thar St:xuaJ relations have value only for procreation had be~n implicit in l'lato and w.ts common ground for most mor.tlists of late Antiquit)'. And the Symposium's doctr inc that Lhe sexual energy is more profitablr d in•ctcd cowards t he idcaJ world provided a strong incentive ro toraJ celibacy," \VaJIis, Nroplatonism~ 9. His whole fi rst chapter o n «the effects of t he n~.·w oth· ~rwurld l i ncss" (u) provides a valuabl ~ context for understanding the philosophical lineaments o f Augustine's dilemma. 5· A.·J. Ll'\'inc :tnaly.tc.s these earlr Christian traditions on scxu:tl renunciation in their apocai)'Ptic context in "The Earth Mowd." On possiblc connections between Jesus' instr uctions on sexual celibacy and what we find in l'crul's lett~ rs, Stt P. Fredriksen, jesus of Nazan•th, King of//}{' jt·ws1 6.

98- JOI. 1'. Brown's Body and Sodety presents a picture gallery o f these v.,_rious Chris·

tian beh.wiors; Dodds has a wundc.rful sen Sl' for t he compe-titive asceticism of the desert fathers, l'a§ln and Cbristi.1'l, 33 and n n. ·2- 4. R. Ltnc Fox, in his chapter "living like Angels," puts t h~ v.1rious Christian practices, rhe ideal and t hc rcaJ, wit hin the b road er social context of marriage laws, medical wrlting;s. penitential practices, chur ch c.1n ons, and apocryphal aposto lic acta, Pa&·m s .md Cbrislioms, 336-374· 7· Ambrose was a patron of Christian \'itgins, but he was .1lso, \'l.'ty practically, in t he thick of ar ranging and sanctioning upper-class Christian 1nar riagcs in Milan; sec Mclynn, AmbrMt' of Milan, 258-259· «sexuaJ renunciation was

Notes to pagu 1Jl - JJ8 • ...JJJ never a c~nrral , o r even an ~xpl icit , part of .-\mbrose•s call to baptism. I t was a pr~occupa tion chat Augusrine had brought \o,.ith him to r\'li1an and that conditioned h is undersranding of the bishop•s preaching" (ibid., Hj). B. Stock notes the twin sources of this "prcoccupalion'" from Augustine's past: "Cicero and t\hni represented diff~r~nc sorts o f innucnce on Augusrine, buc cher had one me~ring·poi nt-and o rientation in t he direction of t he ascetic life;• Augustine~~ &ttdn; -IJ.. S.. Stock shrc\l,:dly obsc~/cs how frusrr.ued Augustine must have be~n as a "s«· ond·class" t\hnichec back in C.uthage. "The c;:~non.ic;:~l texts \\\"rc known only ro the higher ranks of the hierarch)'· ... Even within the intimacy o f the group, t he attditorts had little or no direct access to the canonical books .... For the nine ~'t:ars of his apprenticeship, while his interpretive abilities grew in leaps :md bounds, Augustine was not given frL'C access to the sacn:d texts of his chos~n faith, nor was he encouraged to read them critically," Augtutine tht· Uratler., 46. 9· "The idral of philosophical retircmcnc was as stringent as any caJJ to the monastic life: it would mean b reaking o ff his career, his marriage, aU forms of sexuaJ relations-'' (Brown, Augusthw of Hippo, 106). 10. S. Lance}, ciringAugustine's b iographer Possidius, hoJds th.u Augustin!! rclinqu ish~d h is personal propcrry «to t he church communitr of h is nariw town'" o nce he returned to Thagaste (Sah1t Augustb1C!t 130). J. O'Donnell reconstructs this period \'e')' differcndy: "As long as Adeodatus v.'as aliw Augustin e w.1S no dl.'ric, and show~d no signs o f cll.'rical ambitions for his son... . The car~er change that Augustine undertook at chat moml.'ntabandoning t\
IJ.

q.

15.

16.

when they wish to rccin: from the tumult of the world" (Against. Faustus ;.8). Relations hch\'L'C'n chest' two, unequal branches of the North African church wtre complicated b)• the facr chat both could make a reasoned and r~on· able appeal to the teachings o f the great Carthaginian bishop and martyr Cyprian (d. ljS). fn the roiiL-d. atmosphere after the Oecian persc:cution. Cyprian had pn-sidtd ovt'f an episcop:LI council that ruled that t he sacra· mcnts of heretics were invalid and that those baptized b)' heretics had to be rebaptiud into t he true church. Ht' also insisted on tht primacy of the bishop o f Rome-a principal that he disresardL'
Notn to p.rgt·s 144- 155 ·

17.

18.

19.

mdm"cht;ism.- dam I'Afriqtu'1Ynnail1c-1 48 f). Or perhaps the c.uholic .md Donarisc lisreners-the vast majorit)' o ft h.- audience-were genuinely upset b)' the specific Pauline \'i'rsc- quoted by Forcunatus. in light of the vi\•id belief in bod ily rcsurrL'Ct:ion th:u so marked African Christianity, 1 Corimhians 15:50 would be a difficult vo:rsc- fo r t hem to hear. \'<'. H. C. frend ob~n.·L-d that this deb-arc was a contest in how to interpret J)aul in "The Gnosric-Manichaean Tradirion in North Africa;" 11. Against inc.arn.uion, 1--'o nunacus cites Phil. l :j-8 (Paul's verses on Christ appearing in che likeness of man and in the form of a sla\'1!; ~W•iml Forttmatus 7); against both incarnarion .1nd, by extension, physical resurn"Crion, he circs t Cor. 15:50 ("flesh and blood cannot inherit the Kingdom"; ..-1_9.1imt FurtmMtus 19); as w.:-U as G..tl. 5:14 (crucif)~ng the world to the self and \rice vo:rsa) and 5:17 (..the d esires ofrhe flesh arc against the spirir and the desires o f the spirir 3J'C ag.1inst the flesh"; Atpinrt ForltuMtus 21). in one construal of Greek mor.tl philorophy, choice assumL'
1.

..jlJ

7:

THE CONVERT

'~1posto1Mn auipis?" "Et maximd" ("Oo you acknowledge the aurhority of J'aul the Apostl!!?" "Absol utely! "'~ A~limt ftmstus 9.1). For an analysis of tht ways chac North African Manichaeism based itself on P.:tul's lcners, see F. Dt-crer, "Utilisation d es t.'pitn•.s d e Paul chez lcs ManichCtns d'Afriquc"; for Paul's t'fTcct o n techniques of scriptural interpretation, Tardieu, "L•exCgl'sc manichCtnne."

4-16 · Notes 10 pttgrs ljJ- 160 "lr i.s conventional ro chink t hat 391 marked an impon.mt turning point, with fo rmal affiliation to the ecdcsias-ticaJ hierarchy through o rdination. Thar m oment brough t a reaJ .shock to Augustine and opened a difficult and frustrating period in hi.s l ife~ whrn one l i t~rary project afru another fd l to piece..; in h is hands as a d rspcrate writ~r's b lock .settl«< on h im," notes O'L>onndl or this series of small studies, Cunfrssiuns r:xlii. J. Though no rnajor .mti-Oonatist tteatiSC's date from this period, Augustine was aln•ady in diplomatic communic.uion with his Oon.1tist counterpart in Hippo (Ldtcr 23); and by 394. he had compo.sL-d a rhyming popular song "Against the Donatists,'' as strert·levd propaganda (Rrtmdalium J.20lr9J). E. Plumer, in Galati.tmj 249-252, gives a quick 0\'Cr\~cw of Augusrine•s anti· Donarist acti\'ities in che early to m id·J90s; Brown, in AJrguslinr ofHippu, chap. 20, cnergeticaUy narratl'S Augustine's earlr iniriarivrs and their consequences. M. T illey. in "11Ht. Biblc in Chris/ian Nurlh ltfrir:dt rrj-129. places Trconius within his Donatist context. 4· Part of chc fresh ness o f"l)-.:onius' approach was dur to his deri\'ing his ~x­ egctical rul.-s primarily from the biblical crxc itself. No statement about d i\'inr impassibility, for cx.tmplr, or .about t he pr~rogativcs of the rational soul commcncc.s or controls h is discussion, which is rcmnrkably indifferent to and indl.'pmdenr of non-African exegcticaJ traditions. 1)rconius' fram ing of the entire Biblc within rhe categories o f "law'' and "prophecy" emphasized, rather, h is concern ro understand how God's purposcs unfold in time. Up until I'('Cently, scholars had d;atrd Augusrinc•.s first contact with l )'conius no e-arlier than 396-t\\'0 )logy as a whole took shapc" (Wblkallnterprct
:!.

Norrs to pages t6D- q8 ·

417

6. Once he construccs h is theology o f Judaism, Augus.rinc ''~ U keep this 1}'con· ian idea o f " nll~asure'' o r "way .. (modus) and type (grnus1 b ut alter ic. ForTyconius, t hl.' contrast is between J.srarl's having the law in che Old Testament, and Chrisr-'s b ringing thl.' law to the narions in the N~.-·w Testament. For Au· gustine, God rc\'cals the Uw to Israel in tht' Old Tesr
A.ugusfine,

179-180.

On this idea of uniwrsal guilr for a transpcrsona) sin and the way that it con· jures the idea of a "doublr life" (co rporately in Adam, individually for ('ach pl.'rson), Sl.-'i: esJXcially J. Rise, Augustint~ 91-J47. on soul, body, and personal identity. Rist notes, "Augustine !i.l)'S that IAdamJ was 'onl.' man• and also thl.' whole hwnan race (tuttts genus btunanum). That is an allegory prrhaps, an d of course Adam d ocs represent ead1 and ~.-·very o ne of us aJJcgoricaJJy. But in Augus(ine's tinll.' Ad,lm cannot be a me.rdy allegorical figurt!. And the tr.msmission of sin co us is not an allegorr, no t just a symbol o f our similarity to Adam ... but an h iscorical fact. T ht' hiscorical Adam is 'the whole human racl.'· of which we are all ml.'mbcrs" (tl6}. 9· Right after his surprise o rdination, Augustine p«itioncd. Valerius for (inn• o ff co study s.cripcurc bl.'fore assuming his new responsibilities (Letter 11). O'Donnell sp~.-xulates rl.'asoJt.lbly tha( Augustine might haw sent this Jeerer from Thagas.tc, ha\~ns fl ed back thl.'rl.' .shortly after the ewnt, in part im· pdled by drl.'ad, in parr drawn back to the idea of a life in rl.'rirement. Jn ei· cher case, Augustine would haw had ( 0 sctde affairs wich his property then• bl.'forc his m<.wc (AugustinrJ 25). 10. Augusrinl.' frames his dassic teaching on originaJ sin in the course of arguing against rdagiu.s, after 4JO. Then hi.' \\~ll sr.ue that all people aftl~r Adam haw inhl.'rited not only Adan1's pt'naJty (monaJ Ocsh and the trpc of soul that forms b.1d habits easily once ir scarrs sinning) but also Adam's guilt. For this rl.'ason, he u~ U argue, l"\o\':n babies who arc not b.tptiz~.--d are, on this account, condcmnl.'d. Sec i>. fn_'tlrikscn, "'B"-"}''Ond t hl.' Bodyt'Soul D ichotomy"; sec also p. ..J2J, n. 20, below. 11. Augus.tinl.' seems to confib'tlrl.' the relation o f divinl.' and human wills as a zero-sum game: As God's sovcreignt)', in his vil.'w, increases, humanity's moral autonomy correspondingly dccrl.'ases. Only a brief rimI.' l.'ariier, Augus.rinl.' had rl.'fcrred to that p..1ssagc of Acrs that dt'.Scribcd Saul's participation in Stt!phcn's stoning (Acts 6:8-7:60). Spcaking of raul's postconwrsion rcgrl.'t of this moment, Augustine comments, "he l:ttl.'r reproached himself regrl.'tfully for that incident when he w.t.s fi lled with char S
4-18 · Notn to pages 18l - 187 l~rown,

,n.,..

Augrutiue ofHippo, 150; and s.,..e his entiri: chapter .. Lost Futur.,..;" 146-tj7, for an drgiac consideration of the intangible ._..nvironmcnt.tl factors affecting. Augustine; sec too L...1.ncd's lucid anaJysis o f Augustine's theological arguments in Sai1tt Augu.stil:r, 186-203 (a chapter d cd ic.ttcd precisely to chis rran..,.itional period). Markus spe.tks o f Augusrine's «inrcllcciUall:tndslidc,. in Convrrdon aml Dmmcbantm~nt, 23; fo r his discussion o f the 390s, see 14- 2.3. Jn Fredriksen. «Beyond the Uodyf Soul Dichotomy," 99-101, f cva.luat~ possible sources that may have prompted Augustine's new views in ·10 Simplki.tnus. C. Harrison, in Relhinlu·ng Augtutme'.< Earfy 11wology. has rccendy argued th.u Augustine•s position in Notes on Romans is something chat he only "briefly entertained," ;tnd that his strong.,..r statement in lO Simplidanm was his "rerurning to what he had ahmys, d eep down, believed" (Harrison, 151}; Romans is an anomaly and Simpliriamu a retunt (Ibid., t63). J"or rhe reasons t hat I lay out in my nar-ratiw here, I cannot find Harrison's argt1ment persuasivr. Augustine in his IMr..tdonatis( concrowrsy, with which Augustine was simultancouslr invoh•cd, SL"C R. Cole-Turner, «Anti-HcreticaJ Issues... 12.

Notts to pages IIJ- 19-J · 17.

Allusions to Paul's conwrsion suddenly appear and clusr.::r in these wo rks in the 39os; stt' G. LeRoy. "Ac 9.4b dans Ia prediction de Saint Augustin." esp. the chart on 17-21. CHAPT ER

1.

419

8:

TI-lE BIBLICAL THEOLOGI:\N

Behind or beside T)
icy. z. "Ruding and writing," notes Brian Stock, "were among the labours imposed on the fi rst couple as a result o f t heir disobedience in the garden o f £den. They were the consequences o f human curiosity and pride. Before chc falJ, there was no need ofsuch cumbersome instruments ofcommunjcar.ion. God spoke to Adam and Ev-e directly, as he did to (he Hrbrcw prophets, or he made his ''~ II kno\\-U without the usc of lansuage. Reading .1nd writing .uosc in time and wen.• ro disappear ar the end of tim.e, when the soul would be re stored co unity v..ith God," Augustine~ Rt'adt•J; 15-16. J. L:uin re.aders, in addition, scood ar one lingtlistic rcmow from the New Testament, which v.:a.s written o riginally in Gri'ck, and at rv.-o rcmows from thl• Old Tes.t.ament. tmnslart-d from a Gr.,..ek transl.ltion of the original Hebrew. And. as Augustine wdl knew, the Ucin translations were numerous, thrir quality v.uiable. For all these reasons, knov.:ledgc of lansuages helped enormouslr when interpreting biblicaJ texts (Christian 'fi>adJiJJg 2.11,16). 4· Augus.tim• d rl'\\' chjs im.1sc o f t he Law as a h.trsh school-slaw o f immature stud ents from GaL j:l..j., \'-'here Paul sa.id, «The law was our school-slave un· til Chris.t ca lm~." ·[}-conius, in Hook ofRtdes J,S, had used J'aul's \-crsr similarly (sec p. £62 .1bovi'). G:.l. 3:24 RSV gives "'custod ian" for P.1ul•s paulagogos, which the NRSV changes, without improvemcnr. to "dis.ciplinarian.,. This confuses car pool with class time. A pedagogue was the slaw \\'ho led the child co school, ensuring that he got to his re.1.cher; he did not himsdf give instruc tion. It is interesting that both l }'conius and Augustine had combined Gal. 3:24 with 2 Cor. 3;14, on Chrisc's rt'moving «the w il" that had obscuri'd the l:w.: ("!)'coni us in Buok uf Rules 3,9~ Augustine in Uujidtwn of 8rlief3.9). For both1 the combined wrses made the poinc chat Chris.r's comins h.ad doncotW:l)' not with the law but with th.- difficulties in unde-rstan ding and living according to the law, which had kept the Law rcstrictt·d to Israel. T his wrse fro m l Corinthians m.lki'S no such appearance in Christian lhr.ching, thoug.h it \viii rentrn .1 few ye-ars later, against the Manichees, in A~mst J·dustus. S· Ustfulnt•sr oflklie[J.9 had ..tlso mentiom-d. "useful srr\'ittlde" co the law, b ut 4

4

420 · Nores 10 pagts 194- 208

6.

7·

8. 9.

10.

u.

without making rhe positive points about Jewish observance that Augustine mak~ here:-. Trconius had insisted that Abraham and others were:- righteous under the Law. See Lancd, S.1i11t Augustine, t92-J97· o n rhe sermons of 397. J. O'Oonnell, Au· gushm:, 141, sptcul.:ttl'.S on the awh.-'lt )'OU think o fl}conius' SL"\"Cn rules or keys" (Lt'ttrr 41,2 Augustine to Hishop Aurdius of Carthage). Paul may be in\'oked in the rhetorinl.!ly powt'rful posi(ion at the end of the opening passage of Cor•f. 1.1,1, where Augustine praises God fo r the gift o f h is faith, implam«i "by the humanit)' of your Son, and by the ministry o f your preacher." Augustine had c}osL-d '/b Simplid.uuts with this same image of Paul as God's chosen preacher (1.2,22). l~ook eight, which fcatlLn•s the dramatic con\'crsion in the garden in r...1ilan, is built on a scaffolding o f Pauline remi· niscenct'S from Ro mans; sec O'Donnell's comment.uy, Ctmfi·ssirms 3:3-71, and his remarks in Augtutim") 73-80 and (on the historicity of this scene} J48 n. 1}2. G. Wills .accomplishes an cxtraordinarily simple and lucid description o f Au gustine's complc.x thought on this topic in Saint Augmtmr, 88-99. l~ook devt'n in particular is a dense mix of refcrences co Genesis and co Plotinus. On Christ as the timdess Hcginning, SL't' Con{. 11.4.6--9,1 1. On rime com· ing into cxisrencc onlr ''~th Cn.•ation, St"C Omf. n.8,12; on the old saw abour God preparing hdl for pl'Oplc who ask whar he was doing befof\" he made the world, sec Ctmf. 11.12,14. "You havt' m.:ade rime yourself•• (Conf ru},15). ''You arc unchangeably eccr n.1l," Augustine says co God, "the rruly eternal Creator of m inds. just as rou kncn: heawn and carch in the beginning without that bringing any variation into your knowing, so you m.tdc heaven and earth in the beginning \vithout that mL•anins a tension bctwt'cn past .utd futt1re in your activity," Omf. 1L}1,.4r. o·oonndL on chis point, defers to~ M. Pirsig>s Zcm and the ArtofMotOJt)rl.r Maint~nanrr, 247: "The past exists only in our memories, the futt1rc o nly in our plans. The present is our onJy rcaliry. The trL't' chat )'OU arc av..-.u e of in· tdiL"Crually, bemuse of that small time! lag, is always in the pa.'it and therefo re is ah,•ays unreal" (Confroiom j:175). In Romans 7, l'aul's "I" is not l'aul It is the rhetorim l ego o f prowpopd.:t ("speech in char.tctcr,.). whcrcby the speaker speaks in the persona ofsomeone dse, thercby d ramatizing his prc.sentation. In his Notes on RMM1J.<, Augustine understood l'aul in Rom>lns 7:1 4- 20 as employing chis dL'Vicc: J'auJ "describes a man who is under the Law, before he h.as rcccivcd sracc,. (Nok•son Romans 44.146.6}. Much brt"r, in the dosins~'t'"a rs of his campaign .lb~inst the defenders of l'dagius, he will intt'rprct Paul's rhetorical I biographically and insist that l)aul speaks o f his own rorment here. Augustine's pcrsonallr conflicted apostle (constructed in part br his r.:aking dtutt'ro PauJinc letters .tnd Acts as dcscripti\·~ o f P.aul) ,.,..as n ot the Paul of history, who had a wry robust smsc of sdf. Kristcr Stcndahl's arride f.tmously made this case ("'Paul and the lntrosp~.-'Ct:iw Conscicnct' of the West"); for chc dcta.ils of Augustinc•s theological transfor· m.ttion of Paul, with full bibliographr, s~.-'t' P. l:rcdriksen, "Paul and Augustine: Conversion Narratives," and "lk)•ond the Body/Soul Dichotomy... "You IGodl were co n\'erting me co roursdf'' (Con[. 8.11.,30), echoes Augus· tine's description of J>aul's conwrsion, when he commented on Ro mans: "If 4

4

12.

Ndtl's

to pages 208- llt • 421

chose things \Vhich ddisJtc us serve to turn us to God, this is due not to us, bur to him» ("10 Simpliciamu L2,.2r).

Cf'IAPTER

9:

THE WAR 0 1' WORDS

1\..lodern New 1tsumrnc scholarship places Ro mans chronologically last in the st'qut·ncr of r.,uJ•s extant letters. f:ausn•s• argument for l'aul's sradual improvcmenc r~.-'quired a different chronological sequence. The Manichees' commitment to Mani as che final rrvcaler and aposdl• of Christ, together \•.:ith their cheory of textual corruptions in l>aul's il-'t'tcrs and the gosp<'ls, put them in .1 position of greatrr scriptural independence vis·.t·vis their Chr-istian opponents chan Marcion had been vis·O·•lis his. Ac mid·second century, t\hrcion conceived thr idea of a New Testament canon: No definitivr co lll'Ction(s) preceded him.The ApoMoliron, his edited collection of Paul's leucrs, reflects rhis formati\'t' period., when Marcion could both name his sd~.-"Ction and produce "co r rected" \'ersions of chcir concrncs. Marcion propoS('_d GaJatians, 1 and 2 Corinchians, Romans, 1 and 2 T hes.saJoniaJtS, ''laodiceans" (i.e., Ephesians), Colossians, and Philippians. He excluded 1 and 2 Timothy, T itus, and HebrL'\\'S. (E\'ans reconstructs this collection in ll-rtuJb:'tn Adwrms Man.:ionc-m 2:644-046.} Marcion, in other words, could s.hapc his \'l.'rsion of a dosed canon, bur he necessarily held many of the 1>:1uline leners themsdw.'.s, albeit edited, in common with his opponents. And h is ani tude toward chest' cexts \o,tlopcd almost into a professional opposition co all Stoic doctrines and, in particular, co the Stoic d efence of the tr.ldition.tl wlcus,.. Contr.f Crlsum, x; sec also n. 3 followins. 1.

422 · Notes 10 pttgu 221 - 2H

Thts(' st:mdard arguments, yoked co t heir st.1ndard counterarguments, JX'r· durL-d so unchangingly and functionrd so adaptivdr chat modern historians can reconstr uct the der.tils of much earlier wrbaJ wrestling holds by <W•liling thcmsdws of polemicaJ or- apologetic works from much Iacer periods. A fa· m ous .1nalogue co Augustine's Ag.:Aimt Paml#.S, for example, is che mid·third· n•ncury ''virtual" disputation b)' Origen of Alexandr ia, A&fimt Crlsus. Cdsus, a late·:«!cond-century pag.m philosophl'r, had written a critique of Christian· it)' c.11led On '/'Yue- Doctrine-. In that earlier work, Cdsus argued char Christian· it)' was philosophically muddled and incrinsicaJJy impious. Sometimes Cdsus expresses h is views in his own persona, criticizing "barbarian" Judaism together with Christianity; at other times, he presents arg uments in t he pcr· sona of a Jew disparaging Christianity (and in so d oing, relates some genuinely Jewish .anri·Chr isrian craditions t hat show up, much 1.m:r, in the Talmud, e.g .• A:§Jimt <:rlsus l.Jl). Origen, sL·vcra l generations later, r~ponds to boch genres of criticism. " In truth," observes Chadwick in h is L-dition of this work, «thl• Stoa and the Ac.adcmy Ii.e .• Sroic and Platonic philosophers, rcsptctiwlyJ had provided arguments and coumcr..argumcnts o n a wide mnge of subjects, with the re· suit chat we ftL'qUencly lind that where C~lsus shows affinity with the Acad· cmy, Origcn has only to fal l back on the trad itional refutation provided by the Stoics, and vice: w rsa.... J"anly in con:«!quenc~ of chis continual reference co the debates of the Hellenistic philosophical schools, the: Conlra Ct•fsum is of high interest not merely co the h istorian o f the ChristiaJ1 church bur aJso to the studc.nc o f Hellenistic philosophy. In respect of some Stoic doccrinl·s, it has been obscrwd that thC)• were first made intelligible by O rigt>n's com· ments," Ct.mlr& Cclmm, x- xi. Further, O rigt'n par ries Cdsus' criticisms of Ju· daism (and t hus, to some t'Xttnr, of Christianity) by referring to the apologetic traditions o f Hellenistic je\t~sh writers (such as Philo) .1gainst pa· ganism. This (almost three·way) f ight makes Against <:rlsus n gold mine for traditions o flearned im-ccrivc. 4· 111e "fo rensic, schoolroom approach to the trc.ltmcnt of textual e\~dcnce;" n otes Margaret M itchell, oper.ued fully among and between wdl-educatL-d churchmen arguing owr interpretation or the Bible. Courtroom language and tactics framed exegetical debates a." contesting thoologj.m s used "stereotypical characterizations of •iitemJ' and 'ilkm, "'and evi'ry imdlcctt1al pursuit beJ.

otcs to pages

."-1

122- 119 · .p:J

rraycd its influence-the writing of hisrorr. philosophy, poerry, theological polemics, biblical commentaries, and, ewntu.tlly, preaching"' (luhn Cbrysos/Um and th.:-Jervsi 97; SL"C Wilken's \Vhole discussion in chap. 4, 95-127}· 7. Cyprian of Carthage, rh..- mid-thil\.-1-cenrury bishop o f t he church that Ter· tuUian purportedly had quit, was s.1.id nL•ver to pass a day "without reading T..-rrullian. He frequently said to his secretary, 'Hand me the master,' mean· ing Tercullian'' (so j..-rome {Augusrin..-'s conwnpomrrl. On Famqus ·"·11!11 53}. Tercullian scn.'<'d as a Latin conduit for much o f jusrin Martyr's c-.1rlir r adrt~r­ ms Judaeos argum..-nts i n f)ia/ogu.r with li)pho (U. Efroymson, "T he Patristic Connection," 100- 108}. 8.. Terrullian. an.tcking Marcion, particularly revels in thr martiaJ language of the agOn: "'So much for skirmishing: from this point I take up the reaJ battle, fighting hand to hand." Prom this image h..- moves directly imo an analysis ofthe "form " and "charncter" ofb iblical prose; of the fmmcs of reference par· cin dar to "prophetic diction,.; and of the abundance o f "enigmas, allegories and parables," which o f course must lx "un derstood o thenvise fro1n the way chat they are \\Titten" (A§1imt Martian J.j ,J-J; cf. j .17,2-3, where he expounds on thl· types and figures throusfl v.,hich the Bible codes its mystC.I')' (saaa· mcmlumJ). In short, this sort of theologic.tl polemic reads like a sportsc.t.Sr mixed in with va rious grammar lessons, literary criticism, and passing insults co «the Jt."\vs:" 9· For exam pl..-. the jL•wish text Avot il~Rabbi Nald11 4·5 relates this sto rr about a conwrsation between two figures from the period of the Temple's d..-struction i n 70 C.E.: "Once, as ltabbi Jochanan ben Zakkai was coming forth from JerusaJem, Rabbi joshua follow~-d after h im and bchrld the lCmple in ruins. 'Woe unto us,' cried Rabbi Joshua, ' that this.. the place where Jsracl atoned fo r its sins, has been destroyed!' But ltabbi Jochanan sajd to him, 'My son, do not grieve. We ha\'e anoch.-r atonement as dfucciw as this was. What is it? Jr is aces o f loving kindness, as it is said, «J desire ml.'rC)' and nor sacri· ficc."'( Ho!U:a 6:6}!' 10. Centuries before the Hellenistic and Roman cmpirr-s_, when l'crsia ruled suprcm..-,Je\.,·s living in the garrison rown of Elephantini on the Nile mad..offerings i n a temple to their god, but b)• our period that temple was long gone. (Schafe r. judropbohia, rclates t he historical circumstances of this an· cient rcmple to later traditions of Egyptian anri~Juda i sm .} The remple in Leonropolis, also in Eg)'pt, was d estrored b)' th..- Romans in the v.:ak..- o f t he Firsr Revolt (66-73 C.E.). For 1nosr o f rhc Hellenistic and all of the Roman period, jews esmblished no aJrcr nue sites of such worship. Mosaics in later Roman-era srnagogues pro.'.sent motifs char recall Temple sacrifices and imagery, e\•idently in an ciTorr ro re-create Temple space, l'hus associaling through images and liturg}' the synagogue-'s r icuals \\~th those of che Tem· pte. Contemporary church ornamentation used similar motifs to make t he countc.rclai1n - namdy thac Christianity, nor Judaism, was the true heir to and incarnation of t he s.acraJ traditions preserved in the O ld Testament. J. Magne-ss, "Heaven on Earth," pro,-ides a fascinating tour of this Chriscian/Jl'Wish competition, conducc~.--d at the lcvd o f .trt and archiCL"cture. Theological polemic ag.:Unst Jewish cult ob,•iously did not devalue the prestige and power of Temple imagery when the church wished. to claim it for icsclf.

424 · 11.

12.

Nores lo pagrs lJO- lJ9

"To tht: Jews arguments of this son must have appcart:d famastic;" notes Robt:rt Wilken. "Judaism did n ot need the city ofJerusalem or the temple to legitimate the obsenrance of the lavl. Long before the temple was de· stroyt-'assovcr o utsid e the city o f Jer usalem and in cirjes thro ughout the rvkditt:rranean \vorld . . . . IWJ ithin Jud.tism, the dc..srruction of the temple never assumed the theological importance it djd in Christianity, and chi.' religious crisis provoked by t he los.s ofJerusalem was tesoh·l•d long before the fourth centur)'. There is no trace in Jl•wish sources that Jews thought the loss of the temple invalidau-d t he observance of the law'" Uohn Cbryostum and the jews~ 151). For che prominent placl.' that the Temple's destruction assumed in lare.r Christian anti-Jewish rhetoric, espLo.cially within incra-Chrisrian battles over the date of faster vis-i-vis Passover, now sec C. Shepardson, "'l>aschal Politics." On these works attributed to Cyprian st'C John Gagl.'r, v.·ho hears in them "dl.'ar echoes of public debate and persistent Jewish criticism,. ("JIM Origins ofA11li-Stmitism, J)4). William Horbury places them in the context of both intl.'rcommunity and intracommunity connicts in jews t.md Christians in Cm1tact and Conln>t't"N)) 180-199, on pseudo-Cyprian's A§-fiJUl the jews in the concl.'xt of specificaJiy North African adiVmtr lttdat·os writings. For a b rief surwy of the themes and contents of this North African t radition (which includes the contributions of Commodian and Laccantius), sec 1~. Blumenkranz,judrnpn:dig4 9-43; Sl.'l.' also Krauss and Horbur)', JeutislrCbristiar; Com'ruw~~ t}-26 (an anaJytic surwy of themes acLr!nus luda(.oos) and 29-43 (a prosopographr of Christian anti-Jewish writers). CHAPTER

r.

2.

to: H

IE REDEMPTION Of TI-l E FLESH

In this initiallencr o f 39-t. Augustine cautions that Jc.ro mc's theory of the "useful lie,. undermines inrer precation: "I chink that ic is extremely dangerous to entertain che idea thac the Sacred Books contain any lie anyv.:here; that is, the idea that the men who co mposed and wrote the Scriptures m.ty h.tw lied in rhcir O\'<"n books .... If we .tllow into that supreme authority C\o'fn a single ·useful' lie. nothing will remajn o f those books because., whenever anyone finds som~thing in them difficult to do o r to bdiL•vc, he \viii appeal to this s:~.me idea and auribure thl.' passage ro chc plan or purpose o f a l}"ing author" (Letkr lS.jJ). The quot.:~.tion about the: "tv.·o orators" comes from Eric Plumer's summary o f t his d ispute (Augustillt's ComnU!IJlal)' on Godtltians, 46); it is a d ose paraphrase of jl.'rome'.s point in his GaJatians comtnenta.ry l:u-13. Still fighting this fight ten years later, Augustine remarks anent t his point o f Jrrome's that he fears Jess fo r the aposdes if their positions arc comp;~n'Ci with thosl.' of pagan philosop-hers than he docs fo r t ht: aposdl•s' being compared to "lav.-)'t'rs of tht: court, when rhey lie- during the trials of others" (Ltl· ter Sl.l.t}). "Otherwise," continued Augustine, again raking aim at the argument in Jerome's comtnentary, '"thl.' Holy Scripture, which had been given to pre-· serve chc fujrh of generations to come, would bl• whoUy undennin«< and thrown into doubt, if the valid it)' of lyins were even once admitted'' (Lt·tter

Notes to p
40.4,5). Augustinl!'s understanding of l)aul and l)ctl."r's dispute v,:a.s first articulated in his 0'\\ "ll commenta ry. \'tTittt'n togl."ther "''ith his two early efforts on Ro mans, in 394-395· He repeated the$(! same points in .tnothl."r treatise that dares fro m the same pl."riod.. About Lying. Jn h i.s Galatians commentary. Augustine had also addressed thr issue o f l)aul's circumcising t he Christian T im othy, whose m other was Jewish (Acts 16:1-30). Paul «d id so to avoid scandalizing his own p<eplc. He did nor act hypocriticaJiy (simulans) in a ny way, but rather hr acted o ut of that ind in--erenct' wit h which he says: 'Circ umcision is nothing, .and uncircumcision is nothing' •• (1 Cor. 7:19; ComTIU!1Jla1)' on Galatiam 41.6). Fo r a spirited account of this conrroversr from Jero me's vantage, and of the dangers involved in woJking the fine line Jxo. tween invoking Ju daism to understand Christianit)' and being perceived as actuallr Judaiz.ing. sci." A. Jaco bs, Remains oflhr jrws, 57-100, esp. 89-99 (Au· gustine an d Jerome). 3· Justin's creatiw adaptation o f this Jewish tradition did double duty, d enouncing nor only pagans for their idolatrous cult b uc aJso Jews fo r having had a cult at all. "Within Justin's schema of saJvation-his.tory the Je\vish relationship with God is disringuishL-d. by their exceptional hard·heartedncss,.. noti."S A Reed. "Despite God's repc.:ttctl attempts to guide them towards his "'ill, the Jews rt'spond with chro nic, willful disobL-dience. .. . All o r t he tradi· tiona! emblems of Jewish chosennl."ss arc here transformed into signs of this nation's exceptional w.aywardness" e'Thi! T rickery o f the Pallen Angels,,. lj5)· ReL-d notes aJso a distinctly North African line o f descent from Justin's a.rgu· mcnt in the works ofTertullian, Cyprian, and Commodirut (ibid., l44)· 4· Jn an e.ulicr treatise, On tlx Usiftdnm of Hr:lt£'£ Augustjne had argued that, while knowledge rests on reason, bdief necessarily depends on a uthor ity; and he V.t 'nt o n to prn.ise the autho rity o f t he caJhobm. Such appeals to a utho rity n'Cur frequent!)' thro ughout his response.' to faustus, e.g., A§timt Fd.ustus •J-5 ("The a uthority o f our books, conftrm~.--d b)• t he agreement of so many nations, is supported by rhe succession o f apostles, bishops, and councils"), and ta.l ("T he o utstanding witness o f the catholic church is supportL-d. bra succession o f bishops from the o riginal scats of thl· aposde.s up co t he present time,.).

CHAPTER I C T HE MARK OF CA IN 1.

l.

Jon Lcw nson, 11N Dtatb a-nd J<es.urn•(tfon of the &lor'>.--d Son, cxplof1's the ways chat boch gro ups ofin terprt'ters shape this cheme o f sibling ri\'alry. Christian co mment on Cain as the typological murderer of Christ, noce.s Lisa Unterscher, is surp risingly scant, v..·herl!as this reading o f Genesis 4 v.:ill be the kL-y exegetical &aming fo r Augustine's "thL-ology of Judaism'' ("The Mark o f Cain and che Jews"~ Her chap. 3 gives a useful survey o f pri'·Augustinian exegesis on t his passa~. On Augustine's put.u ivc desirt' that Jews should live .t "misrrJ.ble survi\ral,,. "oppressL-d into sen ·itud e," sec, for example, Jeremy Cohen, l.i':ing Letters of the Lim; 28 an d 35~ o n his tc.'aching as "policy,'' sec 37-<'i5 passim. Cohen also charnc[rrizes Against Faustus as conct!rncd p rimaril}' with the phrsical protu tion ofJews (ibid., 39). Maret' I Simon asscrrs that Jews' rxisring "in m isery was a Christian theological desideratum which affcctL'
Jsmrl> 217).

Lcg.a) historian A rvl. Rabello states that the specific Christian

theological rt.-quircment that Jews survive ..led to chang..-s in civil la\o,·. " ("The LcgaJ Condition of t he Jews in the Roman Empire,'" 696). The fi rst m istake- that is, that Augustine thinks that Jews should Jive in miseryscents to rest o n a misreading. Augustine dors say that Jews should Jive "with their backs bent down fore\'t'r.'• But that is a line from PsaJm 69, quoted by f'aul in Rom. 11:8. Where Augustine docs repeat this line, as in his sermon o n Psalm 59, he refers it not to the Jews' social condition, buc to their h.1bitual hermeneuticaJ posture.: 111ey read the Bible in an earthly way, not in a spiri· tual w.1y. The second mistake-that Christian theology p ro 1nptcd imperial policy's protection of Jews-attributes to Augustine a p rrstige and an in flu· cncc that he ccnajnly did not haw in his own lifeti me~ it wrongly assumes that late Roman Jews Jiwd under a gcncr.tl threat o f violence; and ir ign ores the chronology o f Koman legal pre<ede.nt, which antedates Augustine•s lift."time by centuries. J. Oescribing the swirl of\tlolencc t hat rollowed in the wake ofHonorius' o r· der, Brown writrs, ..Augustine and his colleagues stood at the center of this storm. In Carthage. he would preach to g.rcar crowds amid c heers of'Down with the ltom:m godsF It is t he first rime that we see him, a peace·loving man, intensely sensitive to violence.., tho roughly caught up in the excitement which his own passionate certain[)' had done so much to provoke," Auguslim· ofHippo, 131. In his chap. 20, which contains this passagl.', Brown describes the two cresting waves of anti·Donacist and anti·pagan coercion in North Africa (ibid., 226-131). MarklL~ gjvcs., piercing analysis of Augus· tine's t heology of histo ry during the head}' days of the 390s and earl}' 400s (Sa('Culumt 30-42). 4· Did Paul ml.'an aU lmtrl when he said "all Israel"? Or did he inte-nd by thar phrase only that pare oflsrael that he (and God) considered truly to be lsmrl? The co1nmentaries wrirtcn on this question an.' \'aticd and endless. J take a m.l:ximalist view here; other scholars do not. For a comparison o f t he two r~.-"­ ligious thinkers o n rx.1ctly this poinc, sec P. Fl\"drikscn, "Paul and Augustine: Conversion Narratives, Orthodox Traditions, and the Recrospcctiw Self." A conviction similar to Pa ul·s wots \'Oict.-d by other Jews a hnost two centuries later. r\'lishnah Sanhedrin 10.1 proclaims, ..All lsr.1rl has a placl.' in the wo rld co comr"-and then proceeds immcdiardr to lise the exceptions (..And these shalJ have no place .....). 5· The first chapter of Romans is Paul's indictment of pagan culturc. It is a classic passage of Hellenistic Jewish rheto ric, a "sin list" of the moraJ consequences ofgentile idol worship. Augustinc·s reuse ofi{om. 1:.!4 h..-re puts it in a prophetic co ntc.xt, w hereby P.1ul•s dark allusion to pag.1n srxuaJ mi.scon· duct srr\'c.s co justify the divine condemnation of a U Israel, except fo r that part caJied b)' grace- like the apostles; like 1>,1ul; like whocwr in future gener· atiotts converts to rhe true c hurch-who represent the chosen remnant (Rom. 9:6-4; 11:6). CHAPTER tl: ''SLAY T li EM NOT • .. " 1.

F. \•an der t\'lccr n icely obs.rn.'C.'s thar Latin Christian a rt had reinforn-d. the imagl!ry of che older latin trn.nslarion. "We know wdl v,:hat was behind rhis

(the near·riot in OeaJ. for nearly two hundred )'l'.US Christians in the west had s~.-"Cn a cercain picture on grm'CS, sarcophagi, church w.llls, .and innumer· able other pl.1ct'S. It was the lirde slender figure: o f the prophet (Jonah) stretclu-d out nah-d and fast .uleep under the mcurbita with the hanging gourds: o ne .arm was nearly .Jlv..ays over his he.ad and his leg." were crossed, and the whole mannrr o f p resentation suggested an Endynlion who has somehow w:U1den-d o ff into the pages of the Bible/' Ar.gwtinc tl~ Bishop, 34l: for photographs o f sculptures o f the heroicod ly nude prophet, buff and beard· less, ibid., after p. 296. l. Augustine was hard prt'ssed to come u p \Vith .t justification for Jerome's p roj· L"Ctofrranslation from the Hebrew. If the \Vesrcrn churches adopted Jerome's wrsion, t hL'}' v..'Ould be out o f synch with rile churches of che East, which dung to the Septuagint; and \>.:henC'\o·er so mL'One challenged Jerome's text, ic \~'O uld be t"-asily shown not to agree with the traditional GrL"<'k, which could be produced and was a language rhar many people (not Augustine, 1·hough!) were comfortably familiar wirh."Bur if .anyone is upset by something unfa· miliar in the translation from the Hebrew, and he mi.ses t he ch.1rgc offu.lsifi· cation, he wiU rarely or llL"\-cr ha\'1.' acccss to the Hebrew texts by which )'OUr translation might lx- defended. Bur ewn if o ne did h:wr access, who would toler.tee the cond!.'mnarion of so man~· Latin and Greek .1uthoritics? And in addition, I!Wn the HebrL'WS, when consulted, might o ffer a different rc· sponse, ... and who V..'Ould be the judg.:?'' (Utkr j'0.2,4). S. Lancd synopsizes the problems that Augus1ine's lack ofG rL"<'k caused for his n'Ork on the Trinity (Sflinl Augttstitw, 377-380}. For the most rea·nc wo-rd o n Augustine's knowledge of Greek, sl"t o •oonncll, Augustine", 126. 3· Orthodox writers who speciali:..:.r d in describing and denouncing hl•retics usually provide a much dearer \tlcw of their own concerns t han o f the pmcrices, bdiefs, and occasionally ewn o f the existen ce, o f those o ther Christians whom they condemn. rn the mid-seco nd cemur)', for example, J ustin re· marks on the e.xisrcncc ofJews who hold Ch ristian bdiefs but who stillliw according to the law. Such peop le, he continues, sometimes prevail upon gentile Christians to Judaize as well. j ustin t hinks that mcmb!.'rs of both groups wiU bt sawd, though he acknowledges that o thl'r Christians do not share h is views (Dialogue with T1)•pho, 47). B)' the end of that same cen tury, lr<.'· nacus condemned a similar g roup as "heretics." These JX'Ople, he said, still prncticc circumcision; l i\~ accord ins to Jewish tradition; and insist that Je· sus was fu lly and nor mally human, albeit aJso the messiah v.:ho was crucified and raist"d. lrenaeus labds such heretics «Ebionitcs,. (Ag.-linsl Ht·mies 1.16,1; j.l.1,1; j .I.J}.

T he wo rd Hbionitr is rdaud. to a Hebrew word evicmi 'im ("the poor"), .a sdf.designacion, perh.1ps, o f the ancient community in Jerusalem. (P..1ul in his letters mentions collecting from h is diaspom assemb lies tu givi' to "the poor back in Jerusalem"; Ro m. 15:26; aJso Gal. 1:10.) Accustomed to naming hcrerical sects after their ostr nsiblc founder (Valentin us fo unded the Va)en· tinians, Marcion found!.'d the Marcionites, ..:md so on). hcresiologists cvcntually buril-d. this Hebrew co nnection to "'the poor" beneath their conviction that the sect had been escablish!.'d by that n otorious hcrcsiarch, Bbion. By the late fourch centUt)', chesc hcrcsiological d iscussions have a Talmudic quality: Are these heresies actual groups? Or arc thC)' categories-th.u is, abstract

boundar~·

4·

m:ukcrs. a chcorcrical assemblage o f various notions o f what would make a group unacccptablr to o rthod oxy? Sec especially H. L New· man's arrjcle, «Jerome's Judaizcrs," for a choughtfu1 rc\'icv,: o f t he arguments and che t";'idencc. The "potential for misund erstanding and inh'Ndiglo us strife,. is intrinsic to such efforts at .sdf·dcfinicion, by which .t hostile caricature- of che ..other" group provides rhe building blocks o f o ne-'s own identity. A. Jacobs obsc-r\'C".S that, in anriquirr. «such confrontation and a rgumcnr.uion ,..,a.s not che un· forcunace con.SL'<JUencc o f the Christian approp riation of a.supcrlati\'c Jewish \'oice, b ut rather the goal of this accempt to constn1ct a theological self our of the haunting difference o f the other" ("A jen:'s Jl.'w,.. 2)8-l86; on "originary Jewishncss," 16 1). Eusebiu.s n•ports the story a bout the o riglnallr Hebrew Gospel of Matthew (7bt- Hi.sfU1)' t>f tM Church 3-4,5). Of course, t he gospels and l'aul'.s letters, with their occasional ourcroppings o f Hebrew and Ara· maic, make the .samr point. On the authl.'ntic.ttingjews o f Chr istian rd ic leg· ends, SL"<: G. Stcmbergcr,Jrll's and Cbristi<~m m thr Holy Land, 58-59; 0 . limor, "Christian SJ.crcd Space and the Jew." Finally, Robert Wilken o tTers a pan oramic view of the Christian ization o f Jewish .sites in Roman Palestine in

Lane! Callt'tl Hofy. 5·

J.saiah 7:14 LXX and it.s rdation to the Hl.'brcw ti.'Xt long rl.'mained a sore spot. Origcn giws a (faulty) p hilologicaJ defl.'n.se o f translating •a(dm<~h as "virl)in"' o n the basis o f other texts in Demeronomr, and then makes a more commonsense argument: "'What kind of .sign would it OC if .1 'young girl' rather rhan a 'virgin' bore a son ?.. (A.g;u'mt Cdms 1.34 -35; so similarly Tertullian, AfiJirut Marcion J.IJ). On chis particular passage, sl.'e A. Kame· sar, "The Virgin of J.s-aiaJ1 7:14." Scholars haw established that Ch r i.stian.s and Jc\o,:s communicated , quartded , and ll.'arncd fi·om cach o ther \•,:hile in· cerprcting the-it rl.'spcctive Siblc..s: Stt in particular the works of A. Kame· sar, N . d e L1-nge (for Origen), J. Lieu, \V. Horbury, A. SaJvcnsen, and M. H irshm an . Rabbinic sources for their pan evin ce fa miliarity \'lith Chris· tian concerns. limhuma Va:>tcm 6, a lace commentary, rdarc.s: "tvloses n."qucstcd t hat the 1\>fishnah be wriucn d own, too Ithat is, as t he Torah was wr itten J. But t he Hoi)' One, blessed be he, foresaw that in the days to come t he nations o f rhe wor ld would cr.mslare the Torah and re.td ir in G rel.'k and say, ' \'{/c arc Israel!" (Thanks to my colleague Jcsper Svarcvik for bringing this text co my attention.) Sec a lso \'\". Horbur}"s discussion of t he .stor)' reported i n the Babylonian Talmud about Abbahu, a fourth· century r.1bb i in Caesarca: lkcause they liw c heck by jowl with minim in the land oflsrad,Jcws there stud)• the Bible dosd)', says Abba hu, whl.'rea.s Babylonian Jews, absent mi11im, do not (bA vod<~h Zamh 4a~ Horbury, "Jews and Christians," 20-J-20)}. 6. A. Ja cobs pro\'idcs a sharp and lively analysis o f the battle benvcen Jerome and his nemesis Rufinu.s o ver Origen, Hebrl.'w language, and Judaizing in /k· mtfins oftlx> J~·ws~ 7J-90; on Ausu.scinc and Jero me. sec 90-100. 7· "I giw unceasing thanks co my teacher," said Fausrns .:tc the start of book six· tL"<:n, "who prevented nw from falling into rhis e rtor, .so t hat I a1n still.:t Chtis· tian... And he co ncludes, "The wise teaching of rvlani rescued me from danger" (Agamst FaJtsttiS 16.1 and 5). 8. The sequence o f Augustine's formal writings can be gle.aned with rdaciv\.' se-

curity from his rL"Vicw o f these in the RrtradaUons. Augustine oiTeri'd thar work in part as a critical consideration of his own theological development. not as a chronological record of it, though he docs state his intention to rc· view his works in the order in v.:hich he composL-d. them (Retmt:lation.<, prologue 3). T he particular dates assignL-d to these writings arc less secure, till' (vagudr canonical) duonoiO!,')' more wobblr since P.·M. Hombert publishl"tt Nmwt•lles rrcbcrr!Hs de rh•vnologie augustblil~nnr in 2000. The daring of .sermons and lettl."rs, in light o f the new discoveries o f twenty )'t'ar.s ago, now has to be enrirdy rc\,.icwcd: a huge undertaking. My narrati\'c here dl•pcnds o n the rd· atiw sequence or tlu clustering of Augustine's worl;.s, nut their absolute dat· ing; and some dates-like Honorius' orders in 399, or the Gothic sack of Rome in 410-do provide cxternaJ ser poincs by which to get our be.uing.s. The major biographies of Augustine usually include a chronology. Brown's Au· gusti1w of Hippo, though now d.m:d, usefully attempts to coordinatl." dates in broader lace Jloman history with events in Augustine's life and with the ap· pearancc of his works; sec the more ri'Ci'llt, Lance I, St. Auguttittr1 531-536, with considerable discussion in the body o f the book. For the o lder daring o f the sermons and leccers, stt A J~itzgerald, AugusliiU' tbrou;iJ tht- Ages~ s.v. "Scr· moncs" and "Episn1lae/' with dea.r charts.. These datl'S, a.s the ones gin~n for individual wr·itings in this last reference work, a re less certain than its a.rtides .sometimes have them appear. 9· A~imt l~Jews ha.-. usually bL'i'll datL-d to the last five years o f Augustine•s life. Lancd, tying the sermon's thcml."s in \\~th the points that Augu.stim• makes in Lt'tt1•r 196 to Asellictts, susgests instead the years 418- 4t9. J sec no\\·'<~)' of .Si'tding chc question; but the sermon must dare to some time aftl."r chc com· position of Ldil'Y 111 to Paulinus of Nola. 10. This paragraph and the next relics o n D. EfrO)mson·s careful examination and anaJ}'s is ("Whose Jl•ws?''; the quotntion is from p. t98). u. "The Jews o f Roman Nort h Africa," notes KJ.re.n Stern, "figure st.rJ.ngcly in the historical rccord- .atrestacions of their presence in Africa .arc simultanc· ously frequcnc and scare!.". Christian authors commonlr announce (hac African towns teem with Jev,.s, who are their distinct rivals and ancichests ... (butl in contra.sr, only sporadic discm·erics o f JC'\\~sh arrh-arolog.ical materials haw attested to the settlement ofJews in North .1\fric.a during the tare an· tique pl."r iod" ("inscribing De,•ocion and Death in Context," 1). Stern goes on to rerc.td t he rl'
430 · Notes lo pttgt's )s2- J28

or diatribe-enliwncd Christian sermons. There are nov,: many line studies on this topic. On Ausustine's oral presentation of l'aul, see T. Martin, "Vox P.u~li. ,. More broadly, looking :.u these techniques as le;,r ncd ••vcncriloquism," Jacobs, "A JL·w•s Jc·w"; and M. Mitchdl, "l'.uristic Rhetoric on Allegory,.. and her ample uamination, more specifically, o f Chrrsostom, Augustine's con temporary. Tho: H('.:lf't'n[y ·trumpet. The text of Sen11on 1964 seems unarguabl)' co indic.tte th.- Jewish population o f Hippo (CinistimM est civitas. duo ~'1'1174 bomir.u.m hie .<~~nt .•. ). So, fo r example, SL't' F. van der Mecr, A."gu.t'«
4

the finaJ ri'dt"mption of all Jl"\VS (255-263). Bur how significant is this? As we sh.tll shortly see, Orig(:n onticipated the final redemption o f all rational Jxo. ings: stars, planets, demons, and t"\o'C.n Satan h imsclf (p. 331 above). rf God saws absolutdy "evcryom:,,. then, of course~ he saves Jews too. I have no general e.xplanation for this misinterpretation or t he scope of Augustine's vision o f Jewish saJvation. rcrflaps bl."causc of a U the positi\·e l'hings that Augustin!." says nbour jc\.,..s or about "Jews," it seems counterincu· itive chat he would be so hard line on this issue. But he is. Jt is co nsiscenc with his su.nce on the broader question: Most of humanity, mdudm.~ most Chr-rs· ti.ms, a.re noc :.mons the savl'
4:Jl · Notn to pages JJ..J -347

Such a god would b(' a car icatur(' of justice. An owr..-iew of how Augustine thought himsdf into this position may be found in 1'. FrL-driksen, '"Beyond the Bodrf Soul Dichoto my." For Augustine's pr(' Pdagian arrjct!lation ofrhis \'iew on unbaptized babies, src A l.ik'rdl Commt>nfy, Elizabeth Clark notes: "\'(·'ith thr- condemnation of both Or igenism and l'dagianis1n, the l.t.sc chance for a fruitful unifiCJ.cion of E.:tst er n and Western Chrisrianity met wirh defeat. Their co ndcmn.uion made cf· fcctivt in the West the nourish ing of a Christian theology \\>'hose C('ntral concerns wtrc human sinfi.llncss, not human potr-nti.:d icy; di\'ine derermina· cion, not human freedom .md responsibility; God's mysrery, not God's justice" CrlN OngeniltCmllrof\"I'S)) 250). For the ways th.:trJerome .,...us im•olvcd in these argumcncs, SL'i' ibid., 159-193~ for the way char the PelasJan contrm~rs~· repn."senrs a Latin transmutation of the quarrels around Origcn, set" ibid., 194- 244· 21. Sec FrL-driksen, "Apocalypse and R~.--dl•mp tion in l::arly Chri.srianicy," for a re \'ic\V of this aspL'Ct of ancient Chr istian political theology, with full notc:s. 22. There is a noticeable .md important distinction bctn'L'i'n Eusebius' reuse of biblicaJ imagery and Augustine's, visible ewn in chc cinr sample from both men ch,u \\'1." haw her('. \\'hen Euscbius conjures t he r('built messianic Jerusalem, that •·messiah" corrc:-sponds to Jcrw;,, lcm's current contractor, Constantine. When Augustine applies Luke's P.arable of the Great Banquet to the siruarion vis·.:l·\'is the L>onarisrs, chc t'mperors,like the bishops, arc r('prescnted by the tc.xt's "servants." Stt Markus, S:Jt'cufum, -15-52.. for tspecially clear and co ncise obser..·ations. 23. Robert Markus' great classic Samrlum remains the premier discussion o f this aspect o f Augustine's mature thinkjng, his "sceulari:lation" o f the church, 105-132; ofrhc empire, -15- 10-J; and of the times, 1-4. (These tlucl' thcmr-s are summar izc:d in ibid., chap. 6.) Augustine's intellectual acco mplishmwt in this regard sits oddly ne.xt co my generaJization about happy and unhapp)' gods, happy and unhappy humans. If curr('nc circumstances do not in principle signal d ivine n:iU, then human happiness or unhappiness becomes even more contingent. (Nothins co d o either way.) And if the entire rdarionship wich the deity is defined b}' the uni\'ersaJ consequences of an ancient sin, the god's .-motional vacillations arc unreadable, unknowable, and moot. 24. l~rown provides elegiac n:flection on the associ.:~.rions available in Augustine's usc of prn:grinatio a.s definitive o f currcnc Chr istian l'Xpericncc (Augusti11e" of /·llppo, chap. 27, «civicas Pi'regrina"). 25. This intcrpretnrion "igorously d issent.<> from the one o ffered b)' Jeremy Cohen, I.inng L..rt~'1·s of thr L.uv. In his fi rst chap(cr, Cohen names six dements chat .supposed!)' describe Augustine's "Uoctrinc of Jewish Witness'': Only when fiw of rhe six arc present, Cohen says, is Augustine's thought full)' rna· cure or fully rc.alized (Lit'ing Lc-tkl"l 41). T he point ofhischarr on p. -11 ls to es rablish che lace date o f Augustine's '"full doctrine" and thus to create the strongest contrast possible berwec.n his earlier wririn~ and his Iacer works. Two o f these themes, Cohen claims, d o nor show up in A~imt Fom1tus at aU, namdy, (1) "Ps 59:11, •stay them not': Christians must let Jews liw as Jews" and (l) «Jews must be refuted in proofo f Christianity" L"Vt'n if they will not admit 4

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Ndtrs to pages 347-349 · 4Jl

d.:feat because they cannot unders.r:md whar chey read. A rhird rheme-(3) chat Jewlsh persc~;~rnnc~ in their O\•.:n rdigious customs, despite Greek and, later, Ro man hcgemonr is pr.liscworthy and of testimonial value-docs in· deed appear in A§1imt Fo.~mlur, Cohen says, b uc it is '"less than fully explicit." r. Cohen's misconscrual o f "Cain" contributes to some o f the oddities of his chart, though it does nor l'Xpi..Un all o f thenl. As \W ha\'1.' se.:n, Augustine cirrs J"'salm 59 only quite late; but v.:hen he d ocs, ic is to exaa?J• the same point thar he made in evoking Genesis 4:15 carlier- na.mdy, char Chris. cians must not force Jews to abandon the practice of Judajsm. Jn Lrtter J49.t,9, Aug.ustine explains Psalm 59 by n•fcrcnce !'o Cajn in Genesis 4:15, and he states thtrt h i.s intcrpre[acion of what both of these p.assagi!S con· demn: rhe s~paration o fJrws fro m Jewish practice. So, while Psalm 59 d ocs nor .:tppC'ar in Abfinst Faustus, t he idea that "Christians must let Jews li\'e as Jev.:s,. certainly dOC!s (A§1inst Fduslus 12..12- 13). 2. "Refutingjev..-s from scripture C'\o'\"ll chousfl they c.:tnnot understand:· Cohen claims, is a cheme missing. from A~inst Famtm. In f.lct, Augustine d ocs encourage Christians to undertakl· this exercist" in Agfumt Famtm. Chris· cians should cirt all tht Old Tescament prophecies to rhe Jews, he s.l)'S there; and bccause the Jews know biblical literature intjmatcly, «we can a.r· gue with them about .1crual C'\o'Cnts," C\'en though Jews .we divinely pr~~ wntrd from understanding (A§1inst f~mslus tl..44). 3· Cohen claims that the theme chat Jev,.ish IO)•.l.ity to their Law is praise~ wo rthy, and that this loyalty enhances their s.crvict' o f witness to till' church, is "'only implicitly present" in A~insi. 1-lwstus. Uuc Augustine forch· rightly states chcrc that thisJewish lo)'ahy is Yt't't'r.r multtmJ mirotbilc-1 "a mir· ade robe gre.:tdy in awe of" (A~rinst Faustus 12.lj). Exiled israel, IO}'•ll to their Law, pJ'O\•id cs a uniquely ve themes that he idenrifies- A§timt Famttis, alone of all the tc.xts he lists, expresses aU six themts. The onlr ircm lacking is the cirarion to l'salm 59; buc the meaning o f Psahn 59 is g.i v~n in Augustine's exegesis of the mark of Cain. z6. "Scripture for Augustine is as much a sourn• of understanding as of daca. Hence one striking and resular fearu re of his procedure is easily miscon· strucd.: his rd iance on proof-texts. Especially in works composed berwcen his conversion lin JS6J and his succession to Valerius in the~ o f Hippo l396J, Augustim• will often work out a theory o r doctrine without undue rd i:mce on anr particular biblical tc.xt. later in life, somerim.es much later, he will come upon a text which seems a peculiarl}' appropriate support for the posi· cion
Rise goes on to note the carL-cr of Rom. pl in Augustine's late theology (stc also ibid., 124 n. 93). fn the instance o f Psalm 59. we luckily have the inbetWl"t'n stages prcscr\'~.--d in Aug.ustint's two s.crmons o n that psalm and in his lccw· to Paulinus, when•in che interpretation o f the psahn is til-d. to his understanding. o f Cain in Genesis 4-

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5·

6.

M;trkus provides coptous references to Ausustine•s own writings that jus· tif}' anti·paga.n coercion (Sarcul:m'> 29-38). Another violent incidl'nt oc· currl'd n ine years latl'r at Calama, during which Christian cle rg~· attempted to disrup-t a pagan rdig_ious procession, and in turn, the pagans attacked the accackl'rs, among whom was Possidius, Augustinl''s protige and eventual biographer (Lf'ftrrs 90 and 91). Augustine insisted t hat the pa· gans be punished (ibid. 91.2). Sec also J. O'Donnell's remarks (Augustine; 18)-190). In Brown, Augustmc of Hippo, chaps. 19-21 and 28 namtre the course: of this controvrrsy in nucr; SL"t' also Stephen Micd1dl's more r«ent discussion in A HisfOI)' OfJI~e IAU?· J«'Jman Hmpirr, chap. 8, on the post·Constantinian politics of rdi,Sious identity; for the Don.uists in parti ct~lar-, SL'i: 279-182. Many o f these laws h it the w·ealthy where it hurt most: in the pocketbook. BrO\\'Tl comments: «The lmperiaJ laws fd l errntic.tlly o n African society. T hey drm·l· a wcdgt bct\wen rich and poor, (own and coumryside. T he Donatists lost their bishops and the supportofche uppt'.r classes. One landowner, Cder, had had poems inscribed in his honor in t ht forum. Now he found out rh:u, as a L>onarist, he could not hold office, chat he could nor prouct his pro p.:rt}' by litigation nor pass it on to his heirs by valid testament. After 405, chercfori', such men found it \\i .se to conform to thl' established religion," Augt~stine of Hippo, 240-241. Brtnt Shaw, "African Christianity," pro\oides .1 wonderful ru1-alysis o f the coun· cil o fC.arthagc in 411: S. lance I, who e-stablished the criricaJ text of the coun· cil's tr.lllscripts, d rscribl."s the catholic .s-trategy in Saint Augustim:1 289-307. Sec roo O'Donncl~ Augttstine, 229-245. Augusrim• invokes God's hidden justice in t his connection, too: "'God, through .1 stcrcr though just dcsisn loaulta disposith:m" ... S<"d lustaJ, has prl."· de.stintd soml' people to the ultimate penalty {that is, damnation_!. It is doubtless better, chen, if the overwhelming majority o f thl• Donatists were coiiL-cted and reabsorbed ... v.:hile the few perish in thcir own flaml•s. Bruer that, truly, than that all Donatisrs, on account of thcir sacr ilegious dissent, be burned in the fi res of Hell,. (Lctll!r 204.2), s.tid in regard to the suicidal coup dl• thCitrc o f T imgad's L>onatist bishop. "\'\•'e have no context to cxpi.Un how or wh)' the Jew.s then.' could have had the temerity to beat an archdeacon publicly in the city's t heatre," com· m ems f. M illar abour this incident from 435 C.£. ("Jews in Lhe Gn•l'k East," 5). On the centrally locattd Jewish buildings (Sardis in lydia, Aphrodisias in Cari.1, Apamea in Syr ia II, and Gl'rasa in Roman Arabia}, sec ibid., 7-14S. Bradbury rcvicn...s the evidl'nce on J ev.·i.sh/Chr istl;~n r iots, .1nd names ten c ities whcrl' d estruction or "hostile takc·o\·ers" of synagogues occurn-d or arc rcportL-d as having occurred: The sites range from the edge of i'l'rsia (Callinicum} to the JtaJian peninsula and North Africa to •'-tinorca (Ma· gona; Lrtlt>r ofSt·vrnu, 53-54}; sec coo the older itemization in J. jusrer, Lcs Juift dmu /'empire romain1 q64 n. J. Imper ial d irectives t hat reassert j e\vish p rerog.lCivcs appear in t hl' Theodosian Code 16.8.9 (in 393 C.E.), 8.J1 (in 397). 8.20 (in 412). and 8.25-27 (in .pJ). As lkadbury notes, .. The wry repetition of these laws indicates ri-ll' recurrence of the p roblem,. (Letter ofSewnrs 54); but it also indicates the emperors' resolve to reducl.' occasions of urban vi·

Notts tu

pag~s

)j8-J61 · -135

olence. On Roman l.uv and the jl"\VS, most reccndy, sl.'e 1-\. Linder, "'11tc Legal Status of thl.' Jews in rhc Ro man Empirl.'.'' This ll.'gislacion creates its own kind of trompe-l'oeil Gachl.'rl.'d into g rand compendia such :tS the Jm:«lmian Codt> and thl.' Codr ofJmlinian in the fifth and sixth centuries, the-se earlier laws originated as letters and thus as discrete communications sent to particular imperial officers in one part or .tnorher of the empire; sec esp. Millar, «je\vs in the Greek East/' 4; and t\·lillar-, A Gn.oek U(}man Empin•, 7-13, and passim. 7. "The simple fact thac t he patronage net\.,.urk in t"lagona began with the head of rhe S)'tlasoguc would ha....c had far·reaching implications for the general prestige o f the Jewish minority and their inrl."raction with the Christian ma· jority," S. Bradbury obscn.TS (J.etkr (}fSe'-'l:'TUS 43). He pro~·ides a rich and fu ll description and .tnalysis o fMinorc:.'s Jewish gcncry in the introduction ro his critical edition of Stwrus' letter (ibid.,.!j-43). Se\~rus describes Theodorus' young sister·in·bw, Artemisia, as a frm· bu.J n(}bilissima, "a woman of t he highest rank" (Lt'Ner (}f Sewms l.p). ·r h rough her, Theodoru.s' family was rdated to Litorius, a recent past govcrnor of the Balearic Jslands .md currentJy a high military officer and count. Evidencl.' about Licari us, intriguingly, cannot settle the question of his own religious affili:.rion, whether Christian, j ewish. or pagan. (Bradbury considers this last identification the lea.-.t l ikely~ ibid., 37). If Litorius, Artemisia's father, were Jewish. he p rovides another conspicuous example of the impcriaJ government's not enforcing its own laws: Jews had been debarred from high military and civic offices since .;08 fl1h·odosiall Code 16.8.16; the ban was reputed in 4LS. in 4.!41 and again in 438). r:inaJiy, Sevcrus speaks about anothrr member of this fumi ly group, lnnoccntius, who was learned both in j l.'wish law and in Latin and Greek litl.'rature (Let· tC"r o{Sr-1-ems 18.15). Pagans nrc curiously absent from s~ rus' narrativc, per· haps, as Bradbury sugso::srs (ibid., 29) b~.--cause they play no role in the events of Fl.'bruarr 418. &. Sec Bradbury, Leuer(}fSrr'l:'ms 16-25, on traditions surrounding the discovery o fStcphcn's relics. Sc\-crus mentions that the Christians' fi rst approach •.,. force to the Jews of Magona occurred when Theodorus "by chance,. was off the island. Summoned home, Thwdorus " retur ned and frightened manr p~!opl e br his authority, and although he d id not extinguish our :tr· dor for the srrug.gle~ he d id calm it fo r a little while" (Lettc•r ofSr-n'IW 7.1- 2). Se\'t'.rus (or Consenrius, his ghost v.:riter) loads h is dl.'.scription o f c\'enrs with chc vocabulary of marcia] engagement: The two populations are ..two armies" (6-4); their ensagcmcnt is a "war·• (7.3); Christian arguments are "weapons prepared in advance as the battle loomed" (8.1). Excl.'pt for some sfonc throwing, howc\'er. actual violence seems d irected to the synagogue building and not to Jen:s themsd\'CS (though Stt lj.I0-12, a happy incident caused bran errant stone). 9· "CI.'rtain miraculous things,*' Consentius explains to Augustine, "wer\! per· formed among us at the: bidding of the Lord. Whl•n che blessed priest, the brorher of rour !>a remit)', Bishop Sewrus, aJong with o th..-rs who had bcw present, recounted these things ro mr, he broke down my resolution (Con· senrius had resolved not to cssay literary compositions! by the grcac force of his low, and he borrO\\'l'd from me some words and phrases-no more than

436 · No t,•s to

10 .

11.

po~gn

j6J - )65

that- so that h!! could write a lem:r char contained rhc narrative of these C\'('llCS,. (Lrtter 9 tl. IJ.5- 6). S. lk 1dbury discusses this co llL'rtion of Stephen's miracles in his cdirion, Lft· trr ofS('l!{"rus, 13- t4. f or Augustine's ..-fforts against millenarian cxpcrtations., sec Fn-d.riksen, "'Apocalyps!! and Redemption in Earlr Chrisrianit),.; s ~cifi~ call)' in rt"gard to j e\t~sh con\'crsio n, set'S. Bradbury, Lt'llr!r ofSt•t.Y!rus, -U-57· Sec P. Fred riksen, "Secundum Carncm,.. fo r fu ll arsument and rdcrcnccs.

PR I MARY B l B LI OGRAP H Y

AUGUSTI NE

Only those works of Augustine•s that figure imporuntly in Augmtinr ~md thr jtwt appear here, cited according to my English title together with the standard latin title and with a readily available English translation.

A full list o f Augustine's works, cogcchcr with their ....uious editions and tmnsln.tions, may be found in the one-volume mcydopl-dia A:,gustine llmmtJ' the Agp, ed ited by All.tn Fitzgerald (Grand Rapids, Ml: Ecrdmans 1999). fncer<"stcd 1\"adcrs might also consult the saint's own Website, mainuincd by Jam.:s j. o ·oonndl of Gcorgl·rown Uni\'crsity: WWW9.gcorgctown.cduj facu lryjjodf augus. tine.. Collections of latin texts and English tr.1nslarions :m: linked to t hat page

About l..J•ing (
A!Jlinst Pomslus (contra Paustum Manichamm) Stothcrc,ll. Rt!pJ:J to Paustus thr lt1anichttcan. Niccnc and l>ost-Niccnc Fathers, '55-345· Series 1. Vol. 4· Grand Rapids, M l: £trdmans, t97+ Originally published 1872. Against RJrl:matm (dcta sm dispulatio C.lmtra ForlMJattmt Maniost-Niccn r fachcrs, 5 1 9~18. Series 1. Vol. 4· Gr.1.nd Rapids, M 1: Ecrdmans, 197-1·

OriginaJly publishL'rcss,J995·

43& · PrimM)' Bibliogr.tpb)' Clrrist's Grdcr .-111d OrigitJdl Sin (de- gmtia Cbrisli t'f dt' pn-r:ato ori!Jnali) Schaff, Philip. Nicene and Post-N iccne Fathers. Series r. Vol. 5· Ncw Yo rk: Christian Literature Publicarions, r886.

City ofGod (dt• dvitate lkl) lkttcnson, Henry. Ctty ofGod. New York: P~nguin l~ooks, l972· Cammmtary 011 Gaktli~ws ( tpistoldr .-1d Gdldld.s c-xpositio) l'lumcr, E. A Auguslinc's CAmmwrlktt)' on Galati:tllf. Oxford: Oxford Uniwrsity Press, lOOJ.

Confrsdons (Confosrwrn•s) Shccd, F. J. '/'be ConfrmonsofSt. AugustinCi. New York: Sht"Cd & Ward, l943Wills, Garry. ConfoJSiom. Nt·w York: Pi'nguin G roup USA, 2006. Chadwick, Henry. Confos.sicms. Nt•w York: Oxford University Press, t99L. O'Donnell, James J. Augusti11e: Conft'S!Jom. 3 vols. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992. F.'tith ~~~~d Jl:e Cn.'t'd (dr fide i't ~ymbofo) Burlcigh.J. H. S. Augttslinc~· Harli'i'r \'t'ritbty, 349-369. Phi1adclphix Westminster, l95J. Faith in 1'bingr Ume{·n (d.- fide- n'7m11 im,jsjbilium) Campbell, Michael G. RAith in tlv Unwt'11. ·111e- W'orl.-s ofSaint Augustinc.ljS. Hyde Park, NY: N ..·w City Press, 2005.

Free Will (d.- bm•ro arbjh·io) Uurleigh,J. H. S. Augush'nt:: l:'.:~rli'i'r Writings.. 10ti-lt7. l)hibdd phia: \Vestminstl'r,

l95J. Gt'n('fiS against tlw Mam'rbm (de Grnc# amtrd nMnichaeos)

Te-ske, Roland J. Sdinl Augustine- m• Gt·nr.si.s. F.uhers of the Church 84. Washingto n, DC: Catholic Uni\'crsity of America Prcs.s, 1991.

J.ettrN (ep#tular) Teske, Roland J. Tht Works ofSaini Augmtinr. 11/ t- 4. Hyde l)ark, NY: New City Press, 1001- 2005.

UtrrallnterprrMtion ofGenesis (dr Gmesi dd littm:m) Taylor,J. H. Thr I.itl!r
la·fd.nil:bdf.'dn Morals (de moribtu M:mkhaeonun) S tothert, R. Tbr .\·lomls ofthr MdnidJrl"S. Nicene and

Posc- Nic~ne Fachers, tij-89.

Series t. Vol. 4- Grand Rapids, rvl l: Eerdmans, t974· O r igin.aJiy published 1872.

Morah ofthe Clmrrh (dt· moribus rrrlestac raiholicae) Stothert, R. '/1,y Mor•.tis of/he Cbu~h. Nicenc and Post-N irenc Fathers, 37-63. Scries J. Vol. 4- Grand Rapids. Ml: Ecrdmans, t9i'4· O riginallr published 1872. Noft"1 on fU.mram (c-xpositio •'4 propasttiomm• CiX t'pistol
agamst thr Mdmrhtrs (de d1tabus ;.utimdbu.< contm mdmrhaNJs) Teske, Roland. 7TH: 1liYJ Souls. 11N Works ofSamt Augustine, ll]- 134- l/ t9. The Manichacan L>ebate. Hyde Park, NY: Nl'W City Press,2006. On Various Questiom (de d.in:-r.
Prim.tY)' Hibliograph)• · 439 N.c.otracldliom (rl'lnl.clatftm£-'f) Uogan, •"lary I. 11x Rdra.ctatum.<. Fathers of thl• Church 60. Washington, DC: Catholic Uniwrsity o f America l'rcss, 1968. ~·mum ttgahut tbr jews (lYactatus ttdtJt·rsus ludttros) l igouri, tvl. Senncm .1&"1inst tht•Jrws. Fathers of thl• Church 27, 387- ·P+ \'(·~'l.Shington, DC: Catholic Uni.. Wurlu ofS(lint Augtutin~. lH/ t - u. Hyde P.uk, NY: New City Press, 1990-1997· Sermom on #w GusJNI ofjolm (7'rartatus in fl14ng<.1ium loham:is) Retrig.John W. "lhut-dl~ m• thr Gusprl ofjolm. Fathers of the Church 78-79.88,90, 92. Washingto n, DC: Catholic Uniwrsit}' of' America PrL'S.S, J988-1995· Sennom 011 Psalm.< (rnarmtwm•s in Pmfmus) Bouldin& to.·taria. Expositfom uft!Jt• Psalms. ·nX' \Vu'*-s ofSaint Augtlsthll!. Jllj 1s-•7· H)'de l'ark, NY: New City Pre.o;s, 2000. Soliloquies (soliluqtda) Burleigh, J. H. S. r1t~gustinr: l:'~rrltrr \Vrilif:gs, 23- 63. J'hiladdphia; Wrsrminster, l95J. True Rt!ligion (dt'l't'ra rdigiune) Burleigh,J. H. S. Augttstine: Earlin· Writings, 22j-28j. Philadelphia; \'('estminstcr,

'953· U1J{rm'si1M Commo:tary on Romat~s (epistol.tt' ad Romanus inchoate expusitu) Fredriksen, Paula. Augu.sline un N.omam. Society of Biblica.l Literan1re, l'i:xt and Translation Series, 53-89. Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1982. Unfrm'slx.od Litrml Commrtttary on Grm•sis (de G~n~si ad fitter
1953· JEWISH TEXTS

I usually cite b iblical texts acco rding ro the ftt"'iscd Standard Version, and in· tcrtcs.ramentJJ rc:xrs from the Oxford Am:utatM N.t!ltisl!d standard Vrmon wilh Apor-· t)•pb.1. A larger collection ofintc:rcrsram encal J ~,,~sh writings can be. found in "11w Old '/i'stamcnt AptJCT)•pb..1 and Psrttdrpigrctp!M~ 2 \'Ois., cdirrd by J. H. Charlesworth (New York: Doubleday, 1985). J;or thl" Grrck text ofrhc j ..,,~sh scripttlrt$, J usL-d '11w St•ptttagml (Grand Rapids, M l: 2ondcrvan Publishing Howe, 1970). For English translations o f the great rabbinic corpora, Sl"C ( 1) fo r the Mishnah, the edition by H. Danby (London: Oxford Uni\\"rsicy l'ress, 1950); (2) for the Jerusalem Talmud, t he volumes edited under the direction o f J. Neusner, 'J'br Talnmd ofthe Umd ofIs· rarl (Chicago: Uniwrsiry o f Chicago Press, 1982- ); and ()) for the Babylonian Tal· mud, the volumes under rhe gcnC"r.tl edito rship o f I. Epstein (London; Soncino l'rrss, t978; originally published £935-•952).

J.Nad Sra Scrolls in EntJtsh. Trnns. Geza Vermes. 3rd ed. Hannondsworth, UK; Penguin, 1962. Josephus. jewish Anliquitk's. Trans. H. St. J. Thackcrar. Loeb Classical Librar}'. 7 vo ls. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Uniwrsicy l'r<'ss, 1930- 1965.

4-10 •

Primary Bibliogr.rpb)•

- - . J'br Jrwisb \V:~r. Trans. H. Sc. J. T hack.,..ray. Loeb Clas.sical librnry. 2 \'Ois. Cam.bridgc, MA: H.uvard University Press, 1927- 1928.

- - . Thr Lifr and .-"tj.-tinsl Apitm. Trans. H. St. J. ih3ckeray. loeb Classical Library. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1926. Philo. \1'r0r.b-. Loeb Classical library. tO \'Ols. 2 suppL vols. Cambridge, t\·1A: Harvard Uni\'ersity Press, 1929- 1936. Phi/a's Haaus: 11Jt• H1-st Pagrom. Introduction, trans., and commentary P. W. vrut dcr Horst. Adanca: Sociecy o f BibJicaJ Lirernrure, lOOJ. At'Of dr-Rabbi N.'llan. 1'hr F.u.lxf"f Ac:rording /.o J
For the iNew Testament, I most often r._..fcrr~d co the Jtcvist'd Standard Version. For the Greek texr, l usL-d. Novum •t<-stamrntum Gm«i" d Latin€'; edited b)' E. Nestle- er ol. (Stuttgart: !Xutschc BibdgC"SC.llscha.ft, 1984). Ambrose. J>olitk.11 Lt"Uers ttnd Sfl'-"tv:bi"s. Trans. Carole HilL liv....rpool, UK: Liwrpool Uni-...-crsity Press, 2005. Arhenasoras. Apologja pro Cbristi.-tni~ Ll'§ltio, and dt• U.emrn-v:tiaiU'. Ed. rutd crans. W. Schocd.el Oxford Early Christian Tc.xts. Oxfo rd: Clarendon J."re:;s. 1972.. John Chrysostom. Di:co-uNes dgt~imtJudaizing Christians. T rans. Paul W. Harkins. l:athcrs o f the Church 68. Washinston. OC: C.uholic University of America Press, 1999. Clcmcm o f Alexandria. '11X' /l:U:cell(mier; or Sl:romttta.. Antc·Niccne fachcrs, 349 462.. Vol.l. P~abody, MA: Hendrickson J"ublish.,..rs, t99..J. Originally published 1885. C)'prian. 11mtt' Books o['ltrtimom~ a:g.timt.tlw Jct"'f ('10 Quirinim~ Ed. A. Roberts and J. Donaldson. Ant~·Nicene Fathers, )Oi-557· VoL 5· l'eabodr. MA: Hendrickson l"ublishers, 1994. Originally published 1886. Ephrem. St. Epfr.Jim's f>rosr Rcfottttions.. Vol. 1. Ed. C. WI. Mitchell. london: Williams and Norgme, 1912. - -. St. Hpfr.1im's Prose Rcfutatiom. Vol. 2.. Ed. E. A. BC\·an and P. C. Burkicc. London: \'~/iiJiams and Norgate, 1921. Epiphanius. lbe Ptmariun ofJ::pip/J.;mius olS.:rl.-tmlf. Trans. Frank Williams. iNcw York and lciden: E.. J. Brill, 1987. Eusebius. 'l11e His-tory oftbi" Clum:h. Trans. G. A. WiUiamson. London and New Yo rk: Penguin Books, 1989. - -. In Praise ofC:amtantine. T rans. H. A. Drake. Berkeley: Uniwrsity of California l)rrss, 1976. lr~nacus. Ag.tfmt Hm-siN. Trans.. Dominic J. linger, with John D illon. A.ncicnc Christian Writers 55· New York: Paulist Press, l99l. Justin Marryr. DirAiagur with lYypho. Anc~.-"-iN i cc:ne Fathers, t9..J- l 7(>. Vol. 1. Peabody, t\._. abody1 Mt\: Hendrickson J>ublishers, 1994. Originally published JSSj.

PrimaY)' Bibliography · 4·11 t\·lcliro of Sardis. "A Homily o n che Passovc:r." Jn Tb.:- Christdogic.:~J Contmt't'YS)'· Trans. and ed. Richard A. No rris Jr. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1980. Minuclus J':d ix. Ortar•itts. Trans. Gerald H. Rendall Loeb ClassicaJ Library, 315- 437. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Uni\'ersily Press, 1984. Nag Hammadi Libral)'· Ed. James M. Ro binson. RL'V. ed. San Francisco : H arper San Francisco, 1990. Orig.en. Contra Ct!lm.m. Trans. He-nry Chadwick. Cambr idge: Cambridge Uni\'crsity l'ress, 1953. - -.On Hnt Prin.cip/C'f. Trans. G. \V. Butterworth . Glouct"Stcr, MA: Peter Smith, 1973. Philosro rgitL'> . Church History. Trans. 1'. R. Amidon. Adama: Society o f Biblical Litcr:uurc , 200]. Possidius. 1'br Ufr ofSaint A.ugustim·. lnrroduction and no tes M. Pd lesrino. t:d. J. RotcJI\'. Villanova, PA: Augus(inian l'rcs.-., 1988. Ptolemy. U·tJer to Flora. In Gnosis: A 5€'/«h'on ofGnostlr 1f'xts. Ed. W. Focrsti'r, a:1j4 - 161. 2 ...o ls. Oxford: Oxford Uni\•ersity l'rcss, 1972.. l 'Crtullian. Adrvtrsus Mai"CW1lt'ltJ. Trans. Ernl"St Evans. 2 vo ls. Oxford.: Clarend on Press, 1972. - - . A:9-1imtlhe jew:. Trans. Geoffr<e)' L>. Dunn. The Earlr Church Fathers, 6j- 10 4- london .tnd New Yo rk: Routledge, 200-f. - -. A,tJOitJfJ' and dr Sp«ldrtdis. Trans. T. R. G lmrcr. LoW Classical Library. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Uniw rsit)' Press, J984. - -. lk idalt~triafOn Jdo/atr:y. Ed. and trans. J. H. Waszink and J. C. M . •.-an Winden. Lcidcn: E.J. Brill, 1_987. - -. Srurpw:r. Ante-Nicene Fathers, 633-648. Vol. J. Peabody, tvJA: Hendrickson J'ublishrrs, •99+ O riginaJiy p ublishL-d r885. Tyconius. T1x- Book o[Rttlcs. Trans. \~:iUiam S. Babcock. Adanta: Scholars l>rcss,

1989. - -. «Thl" Book o f Rules, t- Ill!' ln Wblicallnlerprd.'tfhm b1 tlw Edrb' Cbun:h. Trans. K. Froehlich, 104-132. Philadelphia: Forcn~-.s l'res.-., 1985. Scwrus of Minorca. Lrtter on dJ<• CoJwt•mon aftht feu.'$. Ed. and trans. Scott Bradburr. Oxford: Clarmdon l' rcss, 1996.

OTHER ANC I ENT TEXTS Uio Cassius. Roman Histor:y. Trans. Ernest Cary. 9 vols. Loeb Classical Library. Cambridge, M/\: Harvard Un i\'nsity Press, t9]0--t990· Herodotus. '1'1N Histories. Trans. A. D . GodlC)'· Loeb ClassicaJ Library. 4 vols. Cambridge, MA: Har vard Un i\'Crsity Press, l981. Julian. Against tlx! G;~{ilt•am. Ed . and rr.1ns. R. Joseph Hofflnann. Amh\'rst, ~.fA: f'rom\'thl.'us l~ooks, 2004. S.tllustius. C:onrrrning tbr Gods and tl1t• Vnu.trr:e. Ed. and trans. A. D. Nock. H ildl·shcim: Georg O lms, 1966. COLLECTlONS OF ANC IENT TEXTS

Coleman-Norton, l'aul R. Roman SttAk and Christian Chun:.h: A Collecfion o[Utt;"l D«uments to A.D. jJj. London: S. 1'. C. K., 1966.

4-1-2 · PrimM)'

Bibliogr.tphy

Eiddbrrg. Shlomo. Tbr]tows and thr Cru.f...ul~n: ·11w Ht>brew Clmmides ofthe Finl and Srrond Cmsades.. Madison: Uniwrsity o f Wisconsin l'rHS, 1977. Gardnl!r, lain, and Samud N.C. Lieu, cds. MankiMran 1i'xtsfrom thr Ruman Empiw. New York: Cambridsc Uniwrsity Press, 2004 Linder, An·m on. l1w jrws in lhf U'gti Sourrcr fl{lhe Earl)• Middle Ages. Detroit: Wayne Sr.m: University Press, l997· - -. 7tY }t'l"'i in Homan Impert:tl Legisldtkm. Detroit: Wayne Sratl! Uni-...>trsit)' l'ress, 1987. 1\lacMuUcn, RamsL'Y>and E. N . lane. P.·:gptism atJd Cbrisliamty, 10&-415 C.G. Mi nneapolis: Forrrcss l'ress, 1991. tvlansi,J. D., cd. SaCTOmm Consiliflrtmt Nom N Amplissima Collectio. 31 \-olumes. Florence and Venice, 1759 and seq . t\·lusurillo, Herbert. ·111t' Acts oftht· C!Jristum Mar~·rs. Oxford early Christian Tt.'-X(S.. Oxfo rd: Clarendon Press, 1972. Pharr. Clyde. Thr '/1;c.ood Cht1rrh to AD 3JJ. l.nd cd. \'(f. H. C. Frcnd. London: S. P. C. K., 1987. Srern, Mcnachem. GnV!k &nd Latin Auth(lrs on }t'l"'i and juddism. J \'ols. Jerusalem: Hebrew Uniwrsit)' l'rcss, 1974-J994· Winiams, Margaret. jews <>'mong Grrrks and Romam: A Diasporrm Sor.n:.-booJ:. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Uni\1'\:'rsicy Press, 1998. Observations o n anc:ienr J L'WS and Judaism by non-jc\VS cited i n the present wo rk may be found in M. Stern; the various manyr stories cited in the present work may be found in H. MusuriHo.

SECONDARY BIBLI OGR.>\P H Y

.l!Je:xandcr, PhilipS. "Jewish Elements in Gnosticism and Ma£ic c. 70-c. 1]0." In G1mbrid~· Hista')' ofjudaism, }:IOjl-1078. Cambridg.:: Cambridge University Press, 1999. - - . ' ' 'Quid Athcsis ct Hierosolymis?• Rabbinic Midrnsh and H.-rmencutics in the Gracco-l{o nlan World... In A Yiibutr: to Gr;:tt V~ntiC'S: Essa)-s on jNf•jsh and Cbristittll Litl?'atun• .tnd HislUIJ'· Ed. P. R. Davies .tnd R. T. White, tOt- tl.4. Sheffield, UK: JSOT £)ress, 1990 . .l!Jfaric, Pros)M'r. L'i-vol~ttlcm mtrlltctur:llr drS. A11gustin. Paris: E. Nourry, 1918. Allgeier, Arthur. "Ocr Einfluss des Manichaismus auf die c:xt:gNischc Fragrstrllung bei Augusti n.'" In Atm•lius Augusli nur: Festschrift dt•r G6rn'S· Grtdlschaft z;nn 1500. Ed. 1\
itudcs jmt't'f 135 (19i6): 3-29. AJrancr, Berchold. Klt'inr p.Urisluch.: SdmJk•n. Ber lin: Akademic Verlag, 1967. /\Jv..uC'L, j. ''St. Augustine and Anriscmirism." Sludh: Patristira 9 (1966}: 340-349· Amding, Walter. " Die jlidischen Gcmcinden im .uteikcn Klcin.tsicn ... In jiidisdw

Gt:mt'indt'11 mtd Or:y1tlimfiqnrformrn tvm drr Antik~ bit ttff Grgrmw;u·t. Ed. R. JUttr and A f>. Kuscermann, 29-55· Vienna/Cologne: HOhlars, 1966. Amor)', 1'. l~:ople and Identity in Ostrogotlnc Uafy. Ctmbridg.:: Cambridsc Uni\'ersit}' l'ress, 1997. Appleb.-twn, S. Jt•rvs and Gredu in Am:imt <-)nmc. Leiden: 1::. J. Brill, J979· --."The Legal Sta(Us of the Jr,.,.·ish Communities in the Diaspora.·• In 'I''INJ~wi.
Vol. 1, 464-SOJ. Athanassiadi, r .• and M. Frede, cds. Rrj-111 MonotbrtSm bt Laft Antiquity. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1999. Avi-Yo nah, M. "11~ jru•s ofl'a/rstim!: A Politic~rl Hiflol)'from Jht· Bar Kokhb.J U{tr to IIH! Ar-.Jb Conquest. Oxford: Clarendon J'rcss, 1976. Babcock, W. S. "Augustine and rhr Spirituality ofDrsire... Augmtinidn Studies 25 (1994): 171H99- - . "'A ugustine's intcrpr«:ction of Ro mans (A.D. 394- 396).'' Augustini4'1l SludiN 10 (•979): 55-74·

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Historical Rf'vit•w i8 (1973}: 11-}4. Bammd, C. 1'. "Augustine, Origen, and chc Jncerpretation o f St. l'aul."

Augustiniamtm 32 (1992}: 341- 368. - - . «l'aulint: ~xegesis, Manichaeism and Philosophy in t he Early Augusti ne... In Christt.:m Paith and Gn'l."k l'hiluropl!)' in Late Allliquit)•. Ed. lioncl lt. \'V'ickham and Caroline P. Hammd, 1- 25. Lcid cn: E. J. Brii1, 199J. 8arc1a)1, J. jc>1vs in the Westen• Aft·ditar.mrmJ Vi.1spora, from Alrxamlcr f(} 1Yt~j.;m l;z-J &cF.. to tr7 c.~:J . Herkt lcy: Uni\'ersit}' of Calif<>mia Press, 1996. Barkhuiu:n, J. H . «Pro d us o f Constantinople: A Popular Preacher in Fifth Century Constantinople." In Pm:cbn· and Atulkm:e: Studirs iJJ Eat1y Cbmtian and 8)'4tmh'nc HQmildics. Ed. M. B. Cunninghan1 and 1'. Allen, t79-200. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1998. Barnes, T. D. "Constanrinc and Christiamry: Ancicnc E"id cncc and Modern Jnterprrtarions." Zeil.(('hrifl for Antik.r!s Christrntum! (1998}: 174- 94. - -. Coml
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Sacris l::mdiri 36 (1996}: 37-65. Bau-.-r, Waltt!r. OrthodoX)' and Hl!rtS)' i11 Earlit'st Christiani~·· rvlifflcnto wn, PA: Sigler, 1971.

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15-83. Bcaujcu, Jean. "les apologCces cr le ct!lte du souvcrain." Jn Le mitt• d<'s sum'l!r-.Jim dam l't·mpm· nmuJin. Ed. \Villem den Boer, 103-136. Vandocuvrcs·Gene...c: O livier RC\o·crdin, t97J. Becker, Adam H., and Anncnt Yo shiko Reed, cds. ·111e W~J'S '/'bat NrJ..\7 P..1rl£'il: jews and Christians i11 Lati' Ant1quil)' aml thr E~rrfr AUddl€" Agtt. Ti..ibingen: Mohr Sicbl"Ck, 200l 8cDuhn, Jason. lht· M(tnich..u-:m &d)' in Disdpfi,tc a11d Rltt~al. 8..1-ltimorc: Johns Hopkins Uniwrsit}' 1'1\"ss, 1000. lkrger, David. "The Attitude o f St. lkmard of Clain'aux to the Jews... Prurmlings Qfthe American Ac.ad£'11'1)'for jewish Re$t'arrh 40 (1971}: 89-108.

Suond«ry Bibliography · 44.5 - - . "Mission to chc Jews and j l'\\~sh~Ch ris.rian Contacts in the Polemical literature ofthe High Middle Ages." Americ
(t986): ;76-;9•lkrrouard, M.~f. S. Augusti~ Hamili(-'S s11r g:t~.:~ngift' de mintJt41f. HibliothCquc augustiniennc 73A. Brussels: Drsclcc, 1988. - -... L'c.xfsCsc ausustinicnne de Ro m . 7, 7- 25 entre 396 cr -118.'' Rrfflm-clx-s augrutinirnnr1 16 {1981): !Ol- l9j. BlanchetiCre, F. "'Aux sources de t·.mtijuda'isme ch!itien." N.~1·w: d'histain· t't pbi/o1oph1r migi... In U tulte dt•t SOIUY!nli1ls dam l't'mpirr romabt. Ed. Wille1n den Bocr, 179-106. Vandocuvrcs-GenCw: O livier Rcvcrdin, t97J. - - . Hdlenism b: 1.4tr Anfiqtury. Ann Arbor: Universitr of Michig.'ln Press, 1990. - - . "The Imperial Cult: l'e rceptions and Persistence ." In }t'IVish t~nd C!Jristum SrlflkflnilimJ. Vol. J. f:d. H. F. Me)'l.'r and E. P. Sanders, 171- JSl. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, t98l. - - . Mart;yrdom a1ui!Wmt'. New York: Cambridge University l'ress, t995· - - . '' l'olythcjsm and MonO(heism i n Arabia and rhc T hree Palc.stines ... Dnmbarkm Oaks l'aJX'n 51 (1997}: J-JO. Bowersock, G. W., P. Hrown, and 0. Grabar, «is. L:t~ Anttqtli~-: A Gutd£' to the l~kldMtr:al \Varld. Cambridge, ~,tA: H:tr\'ard University l' ress, 1999. Hoyarin, Oanid. Bortkr Lines: 1-~arlitwn afjmko-Cbristi.:tnf~·· Philadelphia: Uni\'crsity of P.:nnsylvania Press, 2004. - - . O;ymgfor God.: M.Jrtynlom and tlw Ala.kmgofChristiOAmty
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- - . Sra-rrus ofMinorca. U!twron tlx- Comt-r.hilip F. eslcr, 1102-1127. Ntw York: Routledge, 2000. - -. «canon Formnrion and Social ConOict in Fourch-Cenrury Egypr: Athanasius o f Alexandria's T hirt)'·Ninrh PestaJ Lcttl'r... Harvard T1x'Olo§<4i

Rrvit•w8t ( 1994): 395-419. - -...J ..·wish flesh and Christian Spirit in Ach:masius ofAll•xandria." jounwJ of l:~arl)· Chrrstwn

Studie.< 9 (2001): 453 -4~k

Braun, Thomas. «The Jews in the late Roman Empire!' S
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- - . A.uthorit)•and the Sacn·d: Asprrts oflhc Christianiz.alion ofthe' Roman World. Cambridge: Cambridge University J'ress, 1995. - -. Thl" Hod)' and Soc-iety: Me-n, \Vomm, ami Srxsral R£mmcwt1m1 m Ear!y Christianif)•. New York Columbia University Pre.ss, t91)S. - -. «Chriscianization and H.d igious Connict." Jn C.Jmbridgt• ..-·bu:it'nt Hislory. Vol. £j. Ed. A. Cameron and P. Garnsey, 632-664. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. - - . The Cult oftiH! Saints. Chicago: University of Chicago l>rcss, 1981. - -. « Th~ Diffusion o frvlanichaeism in the Roman Empire." Jn Religion .wd Society in ihl" Agr ofSdint Augmli11f} 94-uS. London: Faber &. Faber, l972· - -. «f:njo)'ing che Saincs in Late Antiquity." l:'arly .\·ledil!l'fJI Eurvpt· 9 (2000):

£-4- - . l'ower and J.'ersuasimJ in Latt· Anliquif)•: '/iJwards a Christi.ill Empin•. M.tdison: University of Wisconsi n Press, 1992. - - . "Religious Coercion in the later Roman Empire: T he Case o f North Africa.•• In Urligion tmd Sockf)• in tht· A»· ofSaint Augush'nc, 30J-J3L London: Faber and Faber, 1972. - -.«Religious D iss.cnt in rhe later Roman Empire: ihl· Case of Nort h Africa... In Religion and Soc.ie{>' in tht• Agr ofSaint AuJYlsfh•e) 237- 259· London: Faber and Faber, 1972. - - . «The Rise and Function ofrhc Holy Man in tate Anriquicy." journal of Ranum Studies 61 (l97t): 80-101. - -. «st. AUJ)'UStine's Attitude tO\vard kdigious Coercion.'' Jn Religion and Sodel:)• h1 the Age ofSaint Augmline, 260-278. London: Faber and Faber, 1972. Bud), D. K. «Ethniciry and Religion in M~.--dicerraJ1~.an Antiquity and Hl'}'Ond."

Rrligious Suulit•s Rr111rw 16 (looo): 43- 249. - -. «Race and Universalism in Early Christianity.'' Journal of 1:4rfy Christian

Studies 10 (1002): ..J29--t6S. - - . "Rethinking the I« levance of Race for Early Christian Sdf-Ddinition."

Hanurd 1'bt'ologicdl Rc-vifw 94 (lOOr): 449-476.

- - . W'hy 11Jis Nrrv R:w:: Etlmk Ht•Mtming in Early CIJrisli&nit)•. N.,..w York: Columbi.t Universi ty Press, 2005 . Bu onaiuri, Er ncsto. «The Gtnl·sis of Sr. Augustinl"'s Idea o f O riginal Si n."

Hanunl 'l11eoloOl-al Rt'l.'il!tV 10 (1917): 159- 175· - - . '""Man ichacism and Augustine's Idea of the Masrd Penlitionis!' Ham1rrl

TbroiO'_ska/ Revirw 10 (192.7): U7- 117. Burkett, W. Gm'k Rdigion. Cambridge, ~,lA: Harvard University Vrcss, 1985. l~u rrus, Virgin ia. l1x Md.ktngofa Hl!rdit:: Gender; Authoril)~ :.~nd the Priscillia-nist Colli11Jt't't>)'· Berkeley: University o f California Press, t99)· Cadbury, H . J. "'Some f oibles in Ncv,: 1Cs-t.1mcnr Scholarship." jmtntdl ofBiblr .md &ligion 16 (1958): 213- 216. Cameron, ..-\Jan. "Grarian•s Repudiation of the Pontifical Ro be... journal of RtJmdn

Studi.s 58 (1968): 96-99· Ctmcron, A~>tril. "'Byz.nntin~ and J ~.-·ws: Some Rcccnc Work on Early Byzantitun." 8yvmtnw a1kl Modem Gr«k Studies 20 (1996): 149- 274.

- - . CbriUi.mil)•a1HI tbr RhttorK o{Empirr!: '11w J.A•& lr/opmenl ofChrishAn l>t.scatm.:. lkrkdcy: University o f C.tlifornia rn:ss, 1991. - - . " L>ispucations, t>oJcmicallitcratu rt' and Formation of Opinion in t he E..1rly Byzantine Pe-riod." Orit'ntali
RcL"45- 360. Tiibingrn: Mohr Si.-bcck, 2003. - - . '1'hc Jews i n Sc\'cnth·Ccnrury t>alescinc:• Scripld Classka Jsr.Jelica 13 (1994):

75-93· Cameron, Micha.-L "The ChristologicaJ Subst ruct u rt' o f Ausustinc's Figuraciw Exege-sis." In AuouthJt'and the l.lible. Ed. 1'. Brighc, 74- tOJ. N ot re Dame, IN: No( re O;tme Uniw rsity l'rcss, 1999. Carleto n Pagct, J. "Anti-Judaism and Early Christian Identity." Zdtichrift for

Antilus Cbristenunn 1 (1997): 195-115. - - . "Jt\vish Christianity.,. In Cambridge History of judaism. Vol.}. Ed. \'<'. D. Davirs,J. Sturdy, and W. Horbury, 731-'775· C.tmb ridgc: Cambridge Uniwrsity Press, 1999. - - . '"Jc,.,_·ish Prosd)ttism ;tt the Time of Chriscian Oris)ns: Chimera or Reality?" jutl¥1tdl uftht Stud)' ofthr Ni•w Testament 62 (t996}: 65- tOJ. Carroll, Ja mes. Cunstanlbtr's Su.10nL New York: Houghto n Miffiin, 2001. Ct.stTitius, H . «The JL•ws in Nonh Africa ac the Time of AU!,'ll.Stinc of HippoTheir Social and UgaJ Position." In l"rourdmgs u[thf NiiJtb \Vorld Omgn!J.S of jeUJi.tJJ Shldies, }1-37. jerusaJcm: World Union o f Jewish S tudies, 1986. - -... 'Seid w«trsit)' Press, 100t. - - . Edr{y ClnisJi.:m ·nmugbt aml the Classical Tmditio11. Oxfo rd: Oxfo rd University Press, J966. - -...O r.1clcs of the End in thr ConRicc of l"aganjsnl and Christianity in the Fo urth Century.,. In Mimorial A11d¥i-jrall ffostugihr. A~11iqtliti paii?me etchn"'html(". Ed. E. Lucchesi .tnd H. D. Saffre)', t2j- 119. Genc\'a: l'a trick Cramer, J98-l-·

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- - . Origen: A§1imt Cdsus. Cam bridge: Cambridge Un iversity Press, t96j. - -. f'riscillian ofAvila:: 1M Occult and thr Ch..msJIIdlk inlht Earfy Church. Oxford: Clarendon Press, t976. - -. «Tyconius and Augustine... In A Ctmflido[Christiar. Hcrm.enctdiN 11t Roman Afric:a: 1j'f<JIJJUS and Augustine. Ed. Charles Kanncngicsser, Pamda Bright, and Wilhelm H. \l'udl ncr, 48- 55· Herkd t)•, CA: Ccnt('r for Hermencuric:.l l Srudies in Hdlenistic and tv1odern Cul run~, l989. Ch:miotis, A., «The Jl'WS of Aphrodisias." Scripta Classka lmu:lka 21 (1001): 209--242.

Clark, Elizabeth. Ascdic Pidy r incecon: Princeton University J'rcss,J999· Cohen, Jercm)'. Lif'ing L.·tt.-rs of tho! Law: ltleas ofllw jt·tv in Medh't'di Christiamty. Bl'rkdcy: Uniwrsit)' of Californ ia Press, t999· - -. «The Mystery of lsr.ad's Salvation: Ro mans Jl:lj - 19 in Patristic and Medieval Exegesis... Ho1rwmi 11x"'Oo§c..tl f/.(:'t'ie-w 98 (1005): 147- 281. - -. «Ro man Imperial J>olicr to ward t he JL'WS from Constantine un til the End of the l>.alestinian J'atTiarchatc (ca. 429)." 8)""Za11hJW Studies 3 (a9]6): t- 29. - - . « 'Slay Them Not': Augustine and the jcv.:s in •" lodem Scholarshi p." Medi(:'m/ Enrormten 4 (t99S): 78-91. Cohen. Sha)"': J. D. -,11t' 8rgjnnings ofjetvisbm'Ss: &ttndari<'S, V.tricfits, Vncerlc~infies. lk rkclcy: University of Californ ia Press, t999· - - . «'Those Who Say They Are Jews and Arc Not.',. In DiasJX>ras m A11Uquil)•. 6d. S. J. 0 . Cohen and E. S. Fr('richs, £-45· Adanra: Schol.us Press, t99}. - -. «Was Judaism in Antiquity a M issionary Religion?,. In jewish Assimil.ttion1 Acc.ultur.ttion, and Ammmtodahon: J>.uf 1hulitions, Curn'11t l.<mc~ and Ft~hu-e Prosptds. Ed. M. Mor, I..J- l.J. Lanham, MD: University i>ress of .lunerica, t991.

Cole-l itrner, Ronald S . ..Anti-Hcrl."ticaJ Issues and che Debarr ove r Galatia ns l :u - 14 in the Lcctl•rs of St. Augustine co St. Jerome." Augmtmia-11 Sludks 11 (t980): ljj- l6j. Coleman, K. M. "'fatal Charades: Ro man Executions Staged as tvlythological Enactm;:ncs." journal o{UmJJd1J Studies So (r990): 44-iJ. Colorni, V. «Gii ebrci nci cer rito ri italiani a nord di H.o ma dal 568 agli iniz i d el sccu lo XIII! ' S~tlimane 26 (1980): l+t-J il . Courccllc, l'>ierre. L.:tf4• L.:ttin Wnlers and Thdr Gri't'k Soun:es. Cambridge, ~'lA: H.uv.u d Uniwrsit)' Press, 1969. - - . Rt-c!lt'rrllt'HUrles Confi•ssions de- fdiltf Augustin. Paris: E. de Boccard, t968. Cmggo-Ruggini, L "lnco lerance: !!qual and less Equal in tht• Ro man World ... dasskal Philology 82 (1987): t8]- l.OS. - -. "Paganj, ebl\"i e cristiani: Odio sociologico e odio teologico nd mondo antico;" In Gli rbrei ndl'alro medioe1YJ. XXVI St'tt. di St. del Cmt.ro IJ.. di St. mil'Alto Mc.odiiX!ro Uo mdf7.U"J apr. 197/fJ, l:s5- 117. Spolcto : Centro Studi Alco Mc:dioc\'O, 1980. Cr:mz, F. E. "T he Ocwlopment o f Augustine•s lde.u; o n Socict)' before the Oonarist Contro\'CrS)'." Han,a rd ·nJt>ological RetJiew 47 (l954): 255- 316.

DaniCiou,J. From Shadows to Re.<Jlit.y: Sludir-s in the Hiblical 'ljpo/otJ oftM f:ithcrt. london: Burns & Oates, 1960. - -... La (ypologic miiiCnaristc: de lc semaine dans lc christianismc primitif," Vigilia~: Cbri:tian.w 1: (•948): 1- 16.

De Bryn. T. S. "'Consrnntius the Tr..tdator. Author o f an Anonymous Commentary on the Pauline Episdes?" journal oFr1wolol)cal Sludi(,'$ -13 (J992) 38-54. L>ecr<'t, F. L'Afriqut< m(.michl£"mw (IV- V si?dcr). 1: vols. Paris:: Ett~dt"S augustinicnnes,

1978. - -...Aspects de l'Egtisc manichi:ennc: Rcmarqucs sur lc manuscrit de Tcbess..1.: · In Signum l'ietaiU: Fr.stg,1bc-fiir Conw/iu.< Petrus Ma)'t'r OSA l;Jim 60. \.1t'bm1sfag (Carsiriaa1m,¢}. Ed. A. ZumkciJer, t.l:J- 1)1. \X:Ur.t.burg; Augus(inw·Vcrlag.

•989. - - . Aspct't$ du mamrhiisme dans l'Afriq:uo rrmtdlrH'. P'.u is: Erudcs augustinicnnes, •970- - . Mm'ii £"t.la trudititJr. mamc.hiame. l'aris: Scuil, 1974. - -... Lc manichCisme prCscntait·il en Afrique eta Rome d es panicul.trismes rCgionaux d istincfi(s?" Augustinfotnllm 34 (1994): 5-40.

- - . " L'urilisation des tpicre.s de P'aul chez lc.s tvlanichCcn.s d 'Afriquc. '' In Lt· .rpistolc paolint< 11.ri Mttniclm: i lfimatisli e if primo AgorJino, 1_9-83. Rome: lstitu(O Paui.scico Augus(iniamun , 1989. De lanse. N. R. M. Ori,gt·n and tht< jti"'S. Cambridge: Cambridge Uni v~noiry P'r('ss, 1976. DeRoche, V. «VolCmiquc anti·jttdaiquc et I'Cmcrg~nce d e l'lslam l7c-Sc S iCdcsJ." Rct•ue des itud~~s b:'ft;Jnlincs 57 (l999): 14 1-161. Oigcscr, i::Jiz.1bcth Od'aJma. TJ.lt' Making ofa Cbristia11 Empin': iAcMnlim ami Rome. Jrhaca, NY: Cor nell University Prcss.l:OOO. Dillon, John. The- Middle l'latonists: A Stu-d)' ofPlalonimt 80 n.C. to A.D. 100. Jrhaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1977. L>odds, E. R. f'a&1n a11d Christian man Au ofAnxit'tJ'· Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, tC)6j. L>olbeau, F. A.ugr1sti1J d'Hippon<:': VbJgt·six sO!nnom att pt:uple d~\frique. P.uis: E.tudes augusrinicnnes, 1996. - - . "Sermons in&! its de 5.tinr Augustin prCchCs en 397·" Rt'VIJ.I.' bt:nididiJte 101

(199l), 40- 1:j6; 102 (1991:). -15-74,167-197· Donfricd, K.. P., t-el. T1w Romans Debt~IO!. t\•1inm•apolis: Augsburg Press, 1977. Drake, H. A. Comttmfim! and liN Bishop.<. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1000. - - . "'L.1.mbs into Lions:: Explaining Early Christian lntolcrrutcc." P.ISt ami Prewnt 153 (1996): J-)6. L>reyfus, E «J....l condc.sccndanc(' divine (S)"nlu.ttab.Jsis) com me principe hermC.ncutiquc de l'Ancicn Testament d:ms Ja tradition juivc ct dans Ia t radition chrCticnnc." Jn Umgn-ss Vo/.u.tm·, S..damanca 198). l!d. J. A. Emerton, 96-107. Lciden: P..J. Brill, 1985. Drog.:. Arthur J. Honu'T or MosC"S? Earfy Christian lltlO!rprott<Jfi<ms oftht History of OtltUil'. Tftbingcn: J. C. B. t\·lohr, 1989. Duchro\\', U. Chrisf<:'IIMit t~nd W'dtt..-r..mluvrltmg. Sntttgart: Klcu, 1970. Eden, K. Hennmeutks ami the Rhttork&l Jhulitkm. New H:n
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NAMES AND PLACES

Aaron, 2.48 Abbahu, 428n5 Abel, 92, 248. lti4-267, 269, 2]0, jr8, 345:346 Ab imdcch, 120

Abr.tham, xii, 9, 39, 46, 49, 59, 60, 6t,

69, 80, 160, 161, t61, Hij,lt{, 219-220, 141, ljl , lj2, l j9, 186,

J89n6, 419-420n5

Achilles, 3 Acmonia (J'hrygia), 21 Admn, 48, 75. 115, 134-o tJj, t}6, 146147, ljl, ljl, ljJ, lj9, 16-J. 169, !]0, 171, 172, 17-J, 179, tSO, 191, 199, 206, 20{, 219, 139. l jl, lj4-, 278, 279, 285, lS]- 288, 289, 335,337,

JJS, 339, 345, J ..J9, 350, Jj t,

4Jjn1S,

417nn8 and tO, 4-19112, 43mr8,

431- 432n.20 Adcodarus, 109, 134, 137, 374-o 4lJntO Aegean islands, 16 Adia Capiro! ina, 84

Acnca.'>, 3:9 Acsch}'lus, 17, 46 Africa. St!e Norrh Africa Alexander, l.>hilip S., 42lnj, 443 Alex.:mdc:r the Grcac, t , 3, 4-5, 9, 10, tJ, 14, t6, 17, 29, 41, &.J, 98, 129, 211, j jl , 372, j88 Alexandria (Egypt), xxii, 17, 18, 15, 46, 65. 9): 96, 129, 159: 372 AJypius, 134 Ambrose, xxii, 105, Jll, 124, 125, 1.1 7, Jl.S, 131, 1]4-, 13). 137. £j8, £40, 198, 209, 3Jj, 374,411 -4 1201, 412n1, 411-41307 Amding, \'i/., 392111, 443 Ammon, 10 Amos, 9 1, 247

Anthony, IJO, J98, 199 Antioch, }8-39, 94, 96, 186, !}8, 239, 190, !91), JOI, J01, 393- 394tl], 400--JO!nl, -404-4050 18, 407112.4 Ant:ioch us Il l (the Gre.-tt), J9•-J92£H Antioch us IV (~pi phancs), 19, 10 Antoninus l'ius, 87 Apam.-a, 46, 43-4 Aphrodisias, 21, 39Jn6, 40j-406n21, ..J06nH, 434n6 Aptus, 40Sn27 Aquila, 385113 Artemis, 8, J96n 20 Ancmi.sia, 43507 Asc1cpius, 388nj Asc11ic-us, 4081117, 419119 Asia Minor (modern TurkL'Y), 5· 16, lr, 4 . 31, 95. 39•-391111, J96 -J97nl~ 4031110 Assyr;.l, 281 Acha11asius o f AJcxandria, x.xii, 400m6 Atha11assiadi. 1'., 397m, 443, 444, 451, 460 Achcna, 3, 10 Achrnagoras, 390n10 Augustus Ca.-sar, rj, 14 Aurel ius (bishop of Carthage), 173, 355· 375, 410n6 Aurel ius, Marcus (Ro man emperor), 3901110

Ha' al, 61

Ba'al tiJdmm> u Habcock, W. S., 4 15019, 441, -143 Habylon, 16, 84, 86, 282, 345: j86n7, 391-391111, 401117 Halcaric- Jsl.1nds, 435" 7 Harachiah. 92

470 · Names ..md PlarM

B.-u d :l)', J., 39m1, 393n5. 394n10, 398n5,

444 Sarkhu izcn, J. H., 407n4, 444 lklr Kokhba, Simon, X\'i, 25, 84, 86, 251, }22, 372., 402ll5 Barnabus, 398-399n9 Barnes, T. D., 404nJ3, 429011, 444 Bathsheb.t, 287 Beard, M., }89118, 390n11, 3941112, 444 SeDuhn,J., 409n2, 41m11, 444 Berger, D ., 38;nt, 444 Bernard of Clairvaux, xi, xii Ucthlr heJn, 157, 293 Slack Sea, 21, 24, 65 Blumcnkranz, Jl.crnhard, X\ri-xvii, j86nn6 and 8, 429-4J.Onl2 Bohak, G., )68, 394011, 445 Bosporus, 19, 392-393114 Sous(an, R., 370 Uom:rstock, G . W., 369. 388-389n5, 390n119, 11, and 12, 39909, 445 Bor:uin , 0., }86n7, 445 Brnd bury, S., 403m0, 407n26, 434435116, 435nn7 and 8, 4.36mo, 441, 445 Sr.tkkc, Uavid, 400m6, 446 Braun, ll10mas, 396nt9, 406-..J.0 7nl j, 446 Urirain, 5 Brown , J'c-tcr, 367, 3S7n1, 40 7n25, 409nn3 and 4, 410n9, 410-41llltt, 4 1llll, 4f2Jm3 a nd 6, 4 t6 n3, 4 tSntl, 426n3, 4}lnl4, 434nn2 and 3. 445 Buell, 0 ., 389117, 446 Bulla Kq;ia. 309 Uurkrrt, W., j8Sn3, 447 Burrus, V., 409n4, +47

Caecilianus {o f Minorca), 358 Cacsart-a, 25, 295. 342, 372 Caiaphas, 8;, 40 m2 Cain, 85, 92, l.6o, 261, 264- 273, 275,304, 318-324. 326, 33t, 332, 341, 345- 347, }49, 363, 375> 425n1, 432-433Hlj , 433n26 Calama, 4340 1 Caligula, 19- 20. 403nu Canaan, 112, 410n8 Caracalh , 87 Carlccon P'a sct, J., 3S;-386n4, }86n1S, 447 Cameadcs, llt Carthage, xix, 79, IOj , 108, tJ5,Il6, 122, 123, 134. '55· 156, 172, 173. 196, 197,

209, 2l3, 214, 223,229, 232,307, 308, 309, 310, 311,340,343, 354, 355• 3721173. 394n9. 403nt3, 40)1120, 407024, 408111, 413118, 426nj , 429011,434114 Cassiciacum, 133, 134, 141, '51, 171, 172, 374 Cassiodorus, 4}001) C;tstritius, H., 430014, 447 C«:ilianists (North Africa), 139, 140 Cclcr (Donarisc land owner), 4>4113 Cclsus (pagan critic o f Christianity), s4, 88, 90, 95, 2.4. 256,322, ]85J86n..J.. 386n7, 3900 10, 395m3, 400111), 40103, 4llnn3 and 6, 42811) Chad \\~ck, H., 387m, 397113, 398118, 42m2, 422n3, 4J8, 441, 447 ChaJccdon, 407n25 China, 106 Ch rist (stt' alsu j i'sus o f Nazarcrh), xii, x.xi, r, 9, 12, 36, }8, 39, 50, 52, 53, ;;6, 57. 5s, 59· 60-71,73.75, 76, n. SO, 82-86, 90,92, JOt, 108, tll-1(4, 119, tl.O, 123, 125, 1]3, 135, 1j8,139, 144, 145, J48, '54· l55· 159, s60-J6l~ 164-16], 172, 176. 177, 186, t88, •93. 194, 197, 213, 214, 2r6- 218, 224-227, 232- 238, 241, 143, 244- 46, 49- 260, 26 2- 264. 266- 272, 275- 277,279- 285.

287,289- 293, 296-299, ] 06, 307, 31 t, 315- 323, 325- 328, 330, 332. 337, W -.143, 34;, _146. .148, 353, J60-36J, 365, 394012., J99-4001l14, 40040tnt, 40t-402n4, 404"'5• 405n20 , 409n;,4tOn9, 4141114, 4151t17, 4-t7n6, 419n4, 420n9, 42m1, 42501, 430-431nJ7, 431020 Ch ronos (Greek god), 45 Ch rysippus {Stoic ph ilosopher), 397-39804 Ch rysostom, John, 94. 96,312, 406-4071123, 407n26, 408n2S, 429-430m 2, 440 Cicero, 42. 109, uo, 128, 172. 197, 199, 209, 374· 411-413n7, ..J.I9nt, 422114 Clark, E., 369. 431-432n20, 448 Clayton, John, 369 Cohen,Jcrcm}', 368, J85n2, 425112, 430lll7, 432-433nl5, ..J.48 Co hen, S., 3941ll17 .tn d 12, 448 Coleman , K. M., 4041114, 448 Cole-Turner, K., 41Sm 6, 448 Commodian, 96, 405-406n2t, 407-408n26, 4l4ml, 425n3

NatMS at1d Placts · 471

Commodu.s (Roman emperor), 390m0 Conscnrius, 359, 361, 361, 375, 435n7,

435-4)6n9 Cons:r.tmine, xx-i, xxii, }, 15, 71, 72, 76, 87, 97, 99, 100, t38, t39, 1JO, 131, 274, }42, 371, 390-3911111, 4 1.4014, 430n13,432n11 Constantinople, 390-39m11, 40701-1 Cons:t.Jntiu.s (Roman Manichee), lll Corinth, ll, 59, 60, 64, 75, J9j, 3.961120 Cornelius:, 23 CIWC,l/, 24 Cyprian, 231, 4 14013, 413n7, ..f14nl 2, 425"3 Cyprus, 17, 25 Cyrenc, 17, 25, 393n5 Cyril, 96, ..J05-406n11

Oamascu.s, 80, 188, 418n14 Oa11icl, 179, 3l2 Oavid, 9, 30, 53, J-44, 155, 160, 163, l77o 19.), 216, 210, 281, 286, 287,344. 363 Dcad Sea,8J 0l'cius., SS, 230 l>l'crct, F., 409n1, 4141116, 41jlll, 449 Oc lange, N., .¢Sn17, 428n5, 449 Odphi. S Dido, 3 Dio C.usius, 17, 394-395n12 Dioderian, t06,130, 372, 414Jl13 Dionysus, 7, 19 Dodds, E. R.,399n10, 4 12n6,449 Oomirian, 2],28, 390- 3911111, 394-395nl 2 Domirilla, 394-395n11 Oonatus, 139 Orake, H. A, 390-39tm1, 4301113,440,

449 Ebion, 299, 417-41Sn3 Eden, J7t, l9t, 289, 339,345, 4 19111, 431018 Efroymson, 0., 367, 399m3, 413117, 429010, 450 Egypt. 4. 5, 10, 16, .q, 46, 59, 65, 69. 75, 106, !30, 198, 118, 393f4, 394n11, 399m2, 402n8, 408-40902. 413m0 Eidclberg. S., J85n1, 441,450 Ell'phamini, 413ntO Eliav, Y. Z.,j_!)Onu, ..JOlrq, 450 Elijah, 62 Elsncr,J., 3S7-3S8n2, 3901112, 450 lilvirn (church council of), 405n19

Endymio11, 416- 42701 Ephraim of" l~onn, Rabbi, xi Ephrcm, 399m3, 440 Epiphanius, 101, 399n11, 40Snl8 Esau, 6t, 166, •67. 174-J75, tSO, 165,

•n.

277, 330, 333, J H Euripides, 17, 46,51 Euscbius, 342-}43, 394- 3951111, 4041116, 418114, 432n11, 440 Eve, 134, t35,136, 170, J91,3j8, 4191\l Evodius, 171 Eu-kie 1... J~o• 91' J' 2!

Fau.srus the M:mid tl'e, xix-xx, n3, 117, uS, 137. 139, 213-214, 227, 2Jt, 232l35,240,241,146, l47,250, 2jl- 2j3, 255, 2)8, 259, 16<>-263, 265, 274,275, 2]6, 278, 279, 285 - 288, 295 - 298, 307, 309, 315, 323. 324,316, 336. 338, 344. 347. )j0-3jl, 354· ))6, )6j, 398n8, 399n10, 409n3, 409-410116, 4-10nn8 and 9, 4 1tn1111- 14, 4 13414nt!, 4lm1, 4!2!14, 415n4, 42Sn7 Feldman, L, 394n 1t, 450 l-1a\~ us C lemens (Domit ian•s kinsman), 394-395n11 foUiet, G ., 430m;, 450 Fortunan1s t he Manichcc, 105, t07, t42-IS3. , 5o. ,57, 170, tf'6, 1SJ, 201, 2lj, 179, 349. 374. 4'4"'5· 414-4151116,415017 Frede, M., 396- 397m, 39Sn8, 443, 45t Fredriksen, P., 395nn15 and 16, 396n19, 398n7, ..JOOOI, 401- 401n4, ..J04lll7, 406n11, 4 10n9, 412115, 4 14n14, 417n10, 418nn12 and 14, ..Jl.On u , 42604, 43tnl9, 4Jl-4J1n20, 4}21111, 4361110,438,439.451-452 Frend, W. H. C., 385-j86n4, 4ljlll7, 452 Froehlich, K., 4-l6n5, 441, 452 Gaser, J., 370, 424m2, -152 G.ti.t, 19, 391-393n4 Galatia, 60, 74, 186 GaliiL'f, 10, 22, 28, 3 •~ Jl, 294, 40105 Gamaliel V I, 406-407n23 Ganymede, 45 Gardner, 1., 408n2 Gaul, 95: a06 Goldsccin,J. A, }8Sn5. 451 Goodman, Marcin, 394n8, 400-4-0mt, 4)2. 462,467 Gmdd, I ., 390-39tm1, 453

Gr~.-"«c, 4-5. 17, 46, 387m, 409nn3 .md

4· 441· 452 Grutn, f:. S., 388n5, 389n6, 391- 39101, 394n1o, 398ns. 453 Habakkuk, 401n.2 Hadrian, 84, Sj Hagar, 59 Ham, 319-320, 313-J.!.t, 341 Har~, D., 404n 1j Harnack, Adolf von, xvi-x\'ii, 38j- 386n..J,

J86-JS7n8, 453 Harrison, Carol, 409m2, 453 Hasmon~ans, 19 Hdios, 19, 392-393114 H~ra. 397-39804 Heraclcs, 9, J89nn6 and 8, 393n5 Heraiscus, 389-390119 Hercules, 354 HemH~s. 393n5, 398-399119 Herodotus, 7, 8, }88-389115, 4·11 Herod rhe Great, 19, 24, 372, 392- 3931\4-. 402n7 Hesiod, 17,51 Hilarianus, 4 14014 Hi ppo, IOj, 137, l38, 140, 141, 142, I..J.J, q S, 156, 157, 171, 173, 100,308, 3tt, 314, 354• 361:., 363, 408m, 410119, ..tJ6nJ, 418013, 41:9-4301111, ..J3Jn26 Hirschberg, H. Z., 429nu, 453 Hodg..:, C. J., 389n7, 454 Hombert, J>.- M., 416n4, 418-419n8, 454 Honwr, J, 5, 17, 46, 47, j t, 1:21, 38701, 389n8,411n1 Hono r ius, 273-274. 340, 344· 3)), 356, 373, 375, 394119, ..tO~..J071l2}. 426n3, 418-429n8 Ho pkins, K., 368, 390- 39mtl, -154 Horbury, \V., 3Sj-386n.J, J86rq, j86-J87n8, 402116, 4051\lO, 4141112, 428n5, 429nu, 430m6, 454, 456 Horsl·, 1'. W. \'an dcr, 392n2, 440, 454 Hosea, 220 Hunt, E. 0., 409n4, 4.54

Ignatius, 94 lndia, -1 lnnocmtius (of Minorca}, 43507 rrenc-aus, 67, 367, 372, 399-400nq, 4141li..J, ..J27n3, 440 frshai, 0 ., 369, 404m7, ..J06n22, 451, 455 Isaac, 9, 59, 60, 6t, 160, 217, 1:20, 241, 251:.. 265

Isaac, Benjamin, 368, 394ntO, 455 Isaiah, 73, 9r, 274,183,322, }4 1, 396019 Ish marl, 60, 265 lsis, 7 JsracJ, XV, xix, 9, II, t6, 23, 29, 30, 31-Jj, 39, 49, ; •, 59-64, 67, 69, 70. n 78, 81, 83,84-. 86, 87, 9 1, 92, 100, ttl, 160, t6! , 164, l94. 210, ! It, 219, 225. 2.26, 2!8, 2J2, l }S, 240, l.fl- l.J9. 252,2)4. 255· lj9. 270, lf.f, 276,

278, 280-289, 294,29j,}08, 310, 3tj-Jt9, 3!..J, >25. 328, 330, 338, J..JO-J43. 3jt, Jj6, 357, j6!- 36j, 39t- 392nJ, 3921\l, 39-Jnll, 396n18, 40tnl. 401ll5, 403nt0, 410119, 416n4, 417116, 4 19n4, 423n9, 4!6nn4 a nd 5, ¢n5, ..JJ0- 4Jint7, 4331\lj icaJ)', xiii, 16, 21, 95. 115, tll, 134, 14 1, 142, ljO, lj6,200, 209, 114, 178, 304, 308, 40jmO, .fiO-..Jitnll, 4ljn18

Jabbok, 183, 24J Jaco b, 9, 33, 60, 61, J63, 166, 167, 174- 175. 177, 180, r8j, !17, llO, 41, ljl, 263, 265, JJO, 333, 3J6, 344 Jaco b ofScrl1g, 390nu Jacobs, AndrewS., 370, 385- 386114, 424-425nl, 4!8nn4 and 6, 429-430nt!,47i James (bro(hc.r o f J ~us), !t, JOt Jamona, 359 Japhr-t, 320 Jere m iah, 73, 9 1, 247, l 7..J,1:83-284, 322,

341 Jerome, 100, tOt, '57· 186, 187, lOS , 136, 237. 239. 4t, !4-l, 147.2)6, 161, 190, 291- 294. 295- 302, Jl7- Jt8, 321, }!6, 3)1, 374· 375> ..J08n!{, 4t8nnlj and t6, 423n7, 414m, 424-..J25nl, 427fll, 417-428n3, 4!8n6 J ~rusalem. xii, xvi, 6, s. 16, 19, 20, lJ, l..J, 29-33, 60, ]0 , 71,80-87, 91, 100, 164, 186, 19.f,2U, 229, 23t,2Jl, 2jl, !St, 282, j06, }22, 340.342, 345· 359, 36..J, 367,369, 372, 373, JSSnJ, 388- 389ll5, 39t-39lnt, 39104, 394118, 3951116, 395- 39601], 40 tnl, 401nn5 and 7, 410n9, 4J4lli..J, 4s8n 14, 423n9, 44mt, 427-41:8n3, 4J!n2l Jesus son o f Antiphilo.s (epheb~). 393115

ns.

Namils and Plttas · 47J

J!!Sus o f Nazareth (see also Christ), xi, xvi, xiv, xxii, 6, 9, 12, 17, 21, 21, 18- 32, 36, 39. 47. 51, 52- 56.63, 6j, 69, 7), 74-70,78, 80- 84, 91, 92, tOO, 10], JtO, Ill, ll4, II], 129, 144, l48, 164,165, 186, 194,199.110,116, 217, 116,1.-U, 247. 15l-25J, 2j4- 259· 261, 262, 163, 2St, 282, lSS, 289, 293, 194, 29(1, 297, 300, jOt, 304-306, 3tj, 3•7. 3t8, 320, 321. 323. 327. 338. 347· 357,360,362,364. 372., j86n7, 395n16, 395- 396nt], 396n19, 400m6, 400- 401m , 40t -401n4, ..JOjnlO, 408n28, 412n5, 4 131110 John o f P.umos, 71 John the Baptizer, 28 John the Elder (author o f 1 and 2

John), 52, 55, 56, 57· 70 Jonah, 291, 4-2.6-42701 Jones, A. M . H., J87-38Snl, J90nu, 390-391nr2, 455 Jones, C. P., 389n6, 455· 463 Joseph (son ofJacob), 265 Josephus, 17, 24, 311, 372, J89n6, 39t39l.nt, 39211.4-. 39S- 399n9. 401n7,

4)9 Joshua, Rabbi, 423n9 Judah (son ofJaco b), 220 Judaizcrs, xxii, 21, 78, tt6, 216,308, 408, ..JU, 4-l-J Judea, 2.0, 28, 31, Jl. 84. 85, 155, 194, 199, 317, 372, 393n5, 418n14 Julian, 231,373, ..f-1' Julius Cal".Sar, 9

Juno, J, )54 Jupire r, tO, 87 Juster-, Jean, 434n6, 455 Justin Martyr, 65, 68-83, 85, 90, 93, 94. tOO, 101, 116, 119, 110, 129, 159, llj, 21], 235, 2.-JO,l.JI, 4 3,146- 247, 15o-252, 294-295, 367, 371, 388n4, 390019, 399n11, 402n5, 414n14, 422n6, 423n7, 425n3, 417n3, 440 JuvenaJ, 395nt} Kamesar-, A , 42Sn5, 455 Kimdman, R., 40jn10, 455 Knusc, Jennifer, 394n9, ..JOOnt6. 456 Kraemer, R., 370, 392-393114, 456 Krauss, S ., 402n6, 414n12, 456

Lactami us, ..Jl4tll2 l-1dncr, G., 4tjnu, 456

Lampe, 1>., 394n010 and 11, 399ntl, 457 l.anccl, S., J87m, .g;mo, .p6n4, 41707, 4 18m2, ..J20n6, 427n2, 428-419n8, 419no9 and u , 430m3, 434n4, 457 Lane Pox, K., 388nj, 4 12116, 457 Laodicca, 357, 405019, 4.!-t LassCre, J.- M., 429n11, 457

Leah, JJ6 Lc 8ohcc, Y., 4l9mt, 457

Lcontopolis, 402n8, 423m0 Lewnson, J., 4l)HI , 457 Levi ne, A.-J., 370, 4tln;, 457 Levi ne, L., 392-393n4, 393nn5 and 6, 403nJO, 457 Lcvinskara, 1., 392-393n..J.. 457 Libanius, 406-407023 Libra. 24 lici nius, 312-314 Licbe.schucrL ,J. H. W. G ., J90-39HU2, 40j- 406n21, 457 Lieu, Judi th, 39811:7, 399ntJ, 40t-.j.02n4, 403nnu and 12, 404015, 418nj, 457·458 Umor, 0 ., 368, 42814, 458 Linder, A., j!)On tl, 403nn9 and 10, 40)nt9, 406nll, 43 4 -435n 6~ 441,

458 Litorius, 435n7 Lot, 220 Luncau, A., ..Jtjnt 1, 458 L)-on, 4, 371, 399-400014 L)>str.t, 396n10, 398-399n9

MacMullen, R., 369, j8Snj, 390-391n 1.2, 40)020, 442. 458 Magness, J., 423m0, 459 Magona, 354, 3;8, 359· 363, 39t-392nl, 435nn7 .tnd 8 Malkin, r., jSSn5, 459 Mani, xxi, 106-108, 1u, 114, 117, 148, 215, l£6, 218, 231, 335. 371, 399nt.3, 408- 40902, 410n7, ..JIU114, 412- 41307, 411111, ..Jl8n7 Man::ion, xxi, 65, 67- 70, 72, 1u-u2, 116, U9, 110 , 129, 214, 11j , lt9, ll4- 229, 231,235,372, 399nnt1.1nd 13, 410n7, 4-41ll4, 4lm1, 423n8, 417-428n3 Markus, R. A., J69, 390nn, 405- 406n21, 406--407nlj, 4 11n3, 413ru 1, 4r4m3, 418ntl , ..J-2.6nj., 4}!nn21 and 23, 434n1, 456, 459 Marrou, H .-I., 387nt, 459 Marshall, John W., 40103, 459

474 · Names and Plares rvlarti n, T., 419-430012, 459 Mary (m other of Jesus}, 75, 293, 294,

}36, JS;m9 t\•lassachusetts Hay Colony, 308 Me-Lynn, Neil B., -JII- -Jt2m, -111n2, 412- 4 1307,460 Medea, 3 Mccr, F. •;,m der, 410n9, 426-427"'·· 429-430lll2, 460 Meier, john 1'., 395m6, 460 Melito o f Sardis, 83, tj9-t60, 240, 416!lj Mesopotamia, 2-J., 106, 149 Micah, 91 Milan, 105, 121-12j, t}CH3}, tjj, tjS, 140, '55• 171, 173, t82, t8J, 198, 208, 269, .)OS, jtO, 334, }3), 374, 410-41 lOl l, 4H--J11nl, -J1202, 412- 413117, 4tJmO, 420n7 Millar, F('rgus, .)Sjn3, 403-40401}, 405-406o2t, 406o11ll and 13, 407016, 434-4})n6 Mincrv.l, tO ~ Minurca, 354, 357-359, 36t, 362, 373, 375, 39•- 392nt, 407- 408n26, 434-435116 Minucius Felix, 2Jt Micchdl, Marg.tret, 369, 421m14 .tnd 5· 419-430011, 460 Micchdl, S ., 396-397nt, 434n1, 455· 460 Monnica, 3, 123,132- 134,200,310,374, J87nl,410-4llll1 1 Montanus, Montanisc.s, ll-J, 40..Jn t6 Muschus, 18 Moses, XX, ll, 21, 46, 47, ..JS, 50 , )4, j8, 69, 73, 75, Sj, 86, 92. 158, r6o, 161, 164, •67. 192, 220, 221, 217,l..JJ, 247. 248, 249. 152, 2jj, 275. 2.86, 2.87,

JOO, .123, 343, 388n!, 395013, 399012, 4()mj, -107n24, 4 10n8,

428n5 Nathan, Rabbi, 406-407023 Nazarcans, 293, 296, 297, 199 Neapolis (NabJus), 65 Ncbud'kldnczzar, 16,29 Nero, 390- 39 nu 2, 40)n11 New Ensland, .)OS Ncn:man, H. L, 427- ¢nj, 461 Ni kccas o f Jerusalem, 19, 392-393114 Nile, 89, 423nt0 Noah, 141, 319, }lO Nock, A D., 397113, 441, 461 North Africa, xiii, x:o:, 3, 5· 21, 95, 96, 106, liO, 123, IJS, tJ9, 40, 48, ljO,

1jj, 157, 171, 173, 2q, l 3t, l 3l, 2-JO, 172, 273. 291, 197. 302, 307, .)08, 311, 314, JjO, 353, 354, 359, 362, 363, 367, 372, 373,374, 387m, 390nu, 407408n26, 410n9, 4 14nm3 and 14, 424nt2, 425n3, ..j.l6n3, 419m t, 43406 Numrnius, -16

O'Oonndi,J. J., 369, 413, 416n2, 41709, 4t8nmj- 16, 419017, -120on7 and 10, 417n1, 4J.41tn1 and 4, 437, 438, 461 Odys.s~us, 3, 45 Oca, 291, 192, 293, 308, 309, 426- 427nt o ·Meara,J., 41104, 461 Orlgl."n, 84, 88, 90, 94, roo, JOt, 141, 159, 186,2.2.4, 227,256, 195. 30r, 312, 332, 333. 33-1. 335.367. 372, 373. 38504, 39Sn6, -JOOlllj, -JOmj, 408nn27 and .!8, 4 14U14, -115nt8, 418m5, 422nn3 and 6, 4l.Son5 and 6, 430-43ut17, 431nt9, 432n20, 4-t£ Orpheus, 46 Ostia, j 08, 310

P.-.gds, E., 368, 461 l>alrstinc, 6j, 84. 95, 106, 372, 390011, 403m0, 405-406n21, 407--108n26, 428114-- p-a radise, t79. 337 Parkes, J., 386n6, -104n•7 Parricius, J, 387m Paul (sre- alstJ Saul), xi ii, xiv, xv, xx, xxil, S- 12, 19, 25, 31, 32, 34, 35,37- 40,46, 47, 50-6j, 67- 68, 71- 77179-82., 90-92, 102, tOJ, 106, 111- 117, 12711.9, Jj2, t33. ljj, q 0 - 147. lj0- lj8, J60- 163, t66- t69. 171, 172, 174- 179. dh- J90, t92, 195. 197- 200, 202, 208, 210, 214- 218, 224-228,235-249. 2)1, 254- 257, 2j9, 261, 267- 270, 277286, 288-291, 297- 299, JOt, 304, Jt3, 3t7, 321, 323, 32)- 330. 332, 335.338. 3-Jl, 343, JjO, 3)6, 357, 362, 364, 365, 367, 368, 37 1, 372, 374, 388- 389n5, 389n7, 392112, 393- 39-1" 7• 394n9, 394-395n12, 395nnt4 and 16, 395-3961117, 396n20, 398-399n9, 399nu, 400-4011u, 401-402114. 403nn9 and tt, -J04ntj, 410n7, 4-unq , 4 12ns. 4 15nnt7 and 18, 4Cj- 4 16lll, 4 16114, 4170n7 and II, 418nm4 and '5· 419 nt7, 419n4,

N<3mrs and Plaru · 47.5

410nn7 and II, 410- 41HU2, 41101, 4l.J-41Sn1, 4l6nn4 .md 5, 4l7428oj, 41204, 429--·UOntl., 4304Jint7, 431nt9 Paulious of Nola, JO.J, }15-319, 347, }61, J6J, 375, 429n9, 430- 4}Hl17, 433n.16 Pearson, 8 ., 401- 40104, 40401), 461 Pdagius, 169,334, 349, 375• 417n10, 4!0nu, 431m8 Pc ~ i a, 5, £06, 149, 372. 42JmO, 434n6 Pcccr (apostle), 83, 186, 117, 236, 2}8, 239. 156, 257. !61, 290- 29 1, 298, 301, 302, Jl f, 311, 393-394" 7· 403nH, 4rsms, 42 4 -415n2 t>haraoh, 61, 61, 166, t67, llO, 1:77, 343 Philippi, 396n.10 l>hilo o f Alexandria, 21, ! 7, 47-50, 54, 60, 124, 13.). £59. 230, 39•- 39101, J91n1, 421n3,440 l>hrygia, 21, 404m6 t>ilace, l"ontius, 19, 83, 281, .293, 305 P:ionios (aJso " l>ionius'"), 90, 93, 403-40.pu3, 463 Pirsig, lt. M ., 410n 10 Plato, XX, 4-l- 44, 46, 54: 55, 73, 116, 41104, 411111 Pliny, 404nt4 Plorin.us, tl4, tlS, IJt, 100, !OJ, 3J4, 39701, 420 119 t>Jutarch, 53• .19Sn8 t>ol)othos, 392-393n4 Potter, Oa\·id, 403-404m3, 462 l>rice, Jonat han, 368 Price, S., 390 -39tm1, 444, 449, 461, 467 Priscillian, 107, 409n4 Proclus, 407024 Ptolemy, King, 46, 340 t>tolcmy, Valcnri nian, 399n11, 44t t>ucci Ben Zcev, t\<1., 392n3, 3941108 and

9.462 Pul'Ch, H. C., 408-40901, 461

QuinciUian (proconsul), 403-4040 13

Rabdlo, A M., 425-426n2, 461 Rachcl, 336

R.avcau.x, T., 429-430m1, 461 l«:bccc45, 346

K
3J4, 341, 343.344. 345· ,161, 365, 372, 373, 374 375, 387-j 8Snl, 39t- 391m, 394ntO, 395-396n17, 404-40j nt8, 40Snt, 411-4 12nt, 4141ll3, 41S-419n8 Ro m ulus, 34), 3-16 Ruether, R, 4o4ltl), 463 Rufinus, 42Sn6 Rutgers, L V., 385n3, 403m0, 463

Salamis, 396n10 Sallustius, 397n3, 398n6, 399nt0, 441 Sal\'cnscn , A., 428n5, 463 Sandl'rs, E. P., .}88n3, 394n8, 39jllntj and 16, 396ntS, 400-40m t, 402nn7 and 8, 463 Sara (aJso Sarah ), 59, 6 1, lt9-110 Sardis, xvii, 83, tj9. 403m0, 40)- 406n11, 434116 Satan, 76,110, 119, 143, 193, 199, 304, 333.334. 430- 4}1017 Saturninus (proconsul), 403--J04Jll3 Saul (kios), !86, 344 Saul (larcr t>aul), 155, tSS- 189, 315, 4 171lll Schafer, P., 3S6rq, 394011,464 Schilrcr, E.- G. Vccmcs, 39nu, 391n..J, 464 Scott, A., 397n3, 464 Secundinus (Maoichce), 114 Seth, 346 Setzer, C., 419 nu, 464 S{'\.'Cr.J, J ul ia, 11, 13 Sl"\owus, Scpcimius, 87 Sl'\'trus o f Minorca,. 358, 359-363. 435007 and 9 Shaw, B. D., 43404, 464

Shcm, 320

Slu~pardsoo, C. (Tina), 370, 387n9,

4!40il, 46..J

Sho~makc r, 5 ., 387n9, 464

S im im1,}09 Simon, Marcd, >.vi-xvii, 385- 38604, j86nns and 6, 386-387ll8, 425- -J-26n.2:, 464 Simonsohn, S., 385n2, 464 Simplicianus, xiii, 155, 157, 17}- 184, 188, 189, 197, 198, 208, 110, 239. 269, 278, 279, 284-. 2Sj, 287, 315, Jl9, }49, 375, 415018, ..J171111, 418ot2, 420-4111112 S inai, u, 50, 69, ]0, 160, 275 Smyrna, 92, 403-404013 Sodom,llO Solomon, 16, 15, 195, 220, 288, 392, 402n7 Sophocles, 17, 46 Spain, 106, 403m0 Sparta, j89nS Srembc rg~r. G., 40jn10, 41804, -1-65 Stcndahl, K.,371, 410, 465 Stephen, 294, 359, 361, 362, 363, 417m 1, 435n8,436mo Stern, Kal\"n, 429ou, 465 Srcrn, Mrnach.-m, }8804, 392n3, 395nl3, ..J42 Srock, Urian, 4 11-4 13117, 4 13n8, 419112, 465 StOkJ ben Ez.m, D., 40..J- 405n18, 465 Stowers, S . K., jSS-389n5, 465 Strabo, 17 Srruck, P. T., 397-39Sn4, -1-65 Sufcs, 354 Sym.machus (scn:uor}, 121, ..JII- .p.2m Synlm.tchus (translato r of LXX), 385n3 Syria, 5· 16, 11, 106, 130, 434n6

Tamar, .220 Tardicu, M ., 408-409n2, 41007, ..Jt5m,

46;

Th~.-"'doniS of Minorca. 358, 435nn7

and 8 Thoocl.osius I, 107, 130, 373 111L'Odosi us H, xvi,390tlll, 435n11 Thcodotion, 385n3 ThL-ssaJonika, 35, 396n20 Tibcr,89 Tilley, M .• 416nj, 466 Timg.1d, 355· 434n5 Timoth)', 256, 299, 425n1 lhjan, 40-J-nl4 Tri.-r, •98 Trypho, .2jl, 294, 401115, 42.2-423n6 Tu11isi.t, JSSnj Turcm, R., 389n8, 466 l}
Unrrrsc.hcr, L , 425n1, 466 Uriah, .220 Uzalis, 362

Valentin ian, 107 Valentin us, xxi, 65-70, 116, 119, J20, .227, 372, 3991112, 4l-J-Hf4., 41 7-4.2Snj Valerius, tj8, qo, -J-08111, 4 17n 9, 433n26 Venus, 9 Victor, }12- 314 Vicwrinus, Marius, 173-174- 198 Virgil, 9, 42, t97, 387m

Walbank, f.'. W., 387-38Sn.2, 466 Wallis, R. T.• 3970.2,41214. 466 \X1ilkrn, l{olwrt L , 401-..JOln4, 40..J- 405m8, 408nn27 and 28, 4.22-423n6, 4.2:4011, 4.28114, 466 Williams, tvlargaret., 39101, 393n5, 466 W ills, G., 4.2:0118, 466

Taylor, Miriam S., 385- 386n4, 466

l Crrcnce, }02 Tcrtullian, 84, 89, 90, 93-, 94. 96, 223-129, 2jt- .2:Jl, 235, 47,305, .)21-371, 385-3S6n4, 390nu, 396n19, 3991113, 4051120, 4054061121, 423nn7 and 8, 425n3, 429nu , 441 Thagaste, 105, 13-J, 137, I..JO, tj6, 373, 374, J87m, 410-..JliOII, ..JI}niO, 417119

Young, F., 4t6n5. 467 Yuvn.l, 1., 369, 402115, 467

Zakkai, Rabbi Jochanan b.-o, 413n9 Zcrhariah, 91, 92 Zeus, 3, 9, 10, u, 19, 45. 392-393n4.

397-39804

ANC IENT DOCUMENTS AND AUT H ORS

OLD TESTAMENT

J8

210

49

263

Genesis 1:1

46, 200

E:..'Od us

t:26

47. 263

1:26-17

20 2

2:12 }:14

llO 47

t:26-28

116

4:12

9

1:2]

)7

9:Jl

167

2 1:22- 24

47.

II

1-J J ) :9

48 1)9 219

lj:ll 20:} 20:j 21:17 21.:28

j :l t

t90, 206

Jl

111

4

264, 26j, 2]6, 304.320, Jll, 346.349. 3)0, 375· 42jlll, 43Jnl6

248

248

.}2: 1- 20 jl:6 _)2:2]- 18 }j:t9

J46

J.I:Jl-35

4'4 4'7 4'9 4:10

tj'O, 263

26)

II

219

18 tS, 392n1 j9, jt6

228

286 167 160

266 Deuteronomy

4 :1 1- 11:

266 266

2 1:1:}

..p 2

270

2H

40101 192

4 :1}- lj

j6J

28:66

29 j

-P 4

4:15

270, l ] l 2] 1 ,J24,J26 , J4~43J02j

1 Samud

..p6

276

•s:-4

4:17

345

4 :2j

346 247

6:1-4

9 9:20-17 9:2)- 17

JlO

ll:tj

t6:2- 4 19:))-Jj

Jl9

7-' 4 tq

9 9

,,:,5

220 220

llO

12:1}

286

220

24

286

J20

llO

Kings

llO

t

220

ll:t -3

19-30

llO JJ6

Esther

J8j

8:17

J2

286

2 Samuel T.J l

20:2 16:]

}0:14- 17

ss.

220

393117

478 . Anciou Document.s and Authors Ezekiel

Job ] :I

!8S

J7:U- 27

Ps.alms '2 '-7

274 9

1:2-j

220

6:6

.Jlj09

" 33:6

Hosea

202

49

47 l" 330 330 330

jt:IO

330

40 44

45 59

xii, 304,319, Jl4., 325,349. 352, j6t, 363, 375· 4.2:6n2, 430n£j, 433n1;, 43Jnl6

59:11-12 59:12

30

Amos

pSff

47

Jonah 4:6

291

Micah 4:5

II

348

Zcch.u"i.th

xi, 226, 290,304, }ll, 314, 3.2:5· 326, }29. 330~ 347· J49.

8:23

33

350, 432025

69 69:22 69:23 69:22-14 _, 1-

72:10

79

9s:s tOj:l

330, .p6n1 )64 319 329 274 341 330 tl, 53: l..J7 190

NE\l' TESTAMENT

MarthC'\V t:lj

2:14 j :tO j :t 7

75 75 147 75

4:2

258

.s:8

338

Proverbs 8:3; 349 17:6 302

.P7

2j2- 2j3. 296

Isaiah t:l l:j

19

5:23-14 7:1j - 23

183

7:14

t:u t:t9

228 162

8:4

100 '54 309 100 Xi\', ;6 258 47

8:JI

l l]

l:l - 3

33 J4l

9:9 9:t6-J7

217 tlj

!l:Jl q :tj - 21

177 t64

14:16

164 147 82 82

2;20

s:t7-19

5:lt-ll 5:22

29 :10

283 294. 428n5 319

34'4

190

45:.! 0-22

35

lj:Jj t6 :!t

53:8 56:7 59:20

330

t6:14

24 318 283

t9:t l-ll 19 :12

6:t0 ] :q

6 j :2

Jeremiah 7:21ff l ]:IO

247 284

19:21 20:£8 20:t9

22:14 22:.)6--40 2}:5

129

71 199 82

82 t66, 192 100

1]8,

329

l\ncie111 J)arumtnrs and Attrbors . 479 2j:IJ 2}:15 23:21

39

2}:2]- 24 2}:29--35 1):)1-37

255

2j2, 255 6

91-92

8:44 9:1) 10:31 11:48 ll:jJ

12:20

2}:}7

404nt6 91

1):)9-35

9 1-91

26:1- 27 26:37 26:44 2jr.j l

81

14:6 14:9 J9:JJ

2j8

19:2.8

81

19:34

J 05

405n20 305

Jll 305 4

4J 143 83,305 258 16)

268

Acts Mark l:lj

19

1:15 2:9-11

so

2:22- 23

100

2:)6

7

so

12:29 1):9

100

4'.11- 35 6-?

14:49

75

5

6:56

so

6:8-7:60

T-58 8:3

387m4

4 8) 83 194 359 409011 410nt4 l8], 188, ..p8!1J4 187, 188 418nJ4

Luke 2:21- 4 2=-41

258 2j8

9:10-JO

]:5

ll- 23

396n.20 39611.20

9:1- 4 10:2

13

7'9

217

•lj:l4-jl n

12:49

49 217 91

q:J-7 14:8-18 14:19

3961120 396-39909 39

13:24 -29 13:)4 14:2j

3-.0

'5

19:43-44 1):4

322 SJ SJ 83

15:21 15:.29 16:1-5 16:1- jO 16:j t6:J9-22 17:c-9 18:t2- 17 18:!8 19:23-41

23:14

23:22 1):34 2..J:l7 24:32 2..J:4.f- ..J7

181

75- 313 359

75

John 1:1-5 1:17

5'

3:)-6 ) :6 4:19

117

5:24 5:46

6:9-IJ 7:1 7:19

7:26

43

3951"'1 16 143

Romans

75

1:2 l:j

164 305 305

8:>'

8:4J

.10'>

_,

"

257 256 42jll1

299 3961120 396ll20 396n20

199 396020

8 199 40}09

44

39 jlll6 3951116 74,305

7:-to-41

19:2.8 21:26 21:25

396n20

I

1:4 1:18 -32 1:18 -35 1:20 1:12- 13 1:23

4260j 323 t..J.J.., l55· 216

53 tl, 25, Jl., 50 392lll lj6

so

49

480 • AndttJl /)(I(UIIllmts and Auth()rs

1:.24

!8j, 42-60j

9:t9-l3

3

269

9:t9-l4

j:lO

163

9:20

4:U 5:11

'5' t46, l8S,349,433n26

9:21 9:22

.s:t-4

75

9:2}- 16

7

lj t, 165, 169, 174, l O.J, lO], 420 1111

9:24 9:27

'57

10:4

7- 9 7:5 7:7- 25

t :tl

ljl

10 :18

174. 415018 50,68

10 :.21

61 178- 179 6t, ljO, tSl, 237, !84 179, t8t, 1Sj, 325 237.177 l86 285 61 62 62 62, 283

II

J2j

11:1

62, lj9 62

] :tj - 16 t :lj - 20

420 llll 4ljnt8 t6j, l 79 20 ]

7=17 7:18

Ill

11:8

] :19 - 10

Jjl

11:9

{ :19 7:1_9- 20

:335-336

II: tO

Jt9 319, 364

ljl

11:1 t

1)9. 348

7:2)

l lj, l jl

t :lJ- 25 7:24-25 7:24 T·-) "'-

146 ! SS 33;- J36

ll:l l 11:16- 26

62 179

330

8:) 8:6

53

11:17- tS ll:lj ll:lj - 26 ll:lj - 31 11:.26 11:28 11:19 lt:j !

{:14- 20

f:IS

146

lj}

s·-.,

170 14 6, ljj

8:14- 17

394012

8 :tj

9- JO lj7 16j, !67, J74. 17). l79, 178, 279. )46, 3)0 61, J97. 4301117 61, 63 8 s. 9 . 243 8, 288 53

8:2! 9

9- 11 9:) 9:) -4 9:4 9:4-5 9:s 9:6 9:6 -9 9:6-24 9:lO- rJ 9:10- 29 9:tt 9:tr- lJ 9:£3- 18 9:q . 9:q- 18 9:1 6 9:16- 18 9:17 9:17- 18 9:18

'59 61

426n5 61 174 61 166,1n lj7 6r, 278, 2.87, 319 167 168, 188 61 62, l66 277 280

11:.2-7

u:s 11:6 11:7

11:33 lj:ll lj :l]- q ~s~

lj:8 lj :2J lj :4 15:26

4 }Ull7

4260j l80 281, !SJ, 319, 426n}

64, 280, Uh , 328

361,364 62 l8t, 186

Jlj-}26,}27, 318 77. lj9, 289. )19 lSI 182, 189, 327- JlS 6j, 281 •99 60, 6-f 60 396nJ7 64

. p.]llJ

1 Cor inthians 2:8 l84 J:O- J 75 162 4'7

.s:u 7:1 7:1- 7 7:2 7:19 ]:2j-J!

7=28-)S 8:., &s- 6 8:6 8.7- 12

38 7' ll8, 129 t9j

425n2 129

7' 11

12

5' 38

Ancunt Do(l(mi'IUS at1d Authors

9:10

j8. 192 j8, 191

9:20 9:21

237 237

9:4-9

I:IJ - l j

1:14 •:•s - 16

1:15 - 22

395017 19, 6j. Jl7

6J 4181ll4 396nt7

10:4 10:6 10:6-q 10:u 10:14 10:19 10:19-20

59 245

1:16- 1:10 1:20 1:22

59. 64. 341 j8

2

ll

12

2:1- 10 2:1-15

10:10

53

1:7

34

10:32

313

IJ :I!

338

14

186, 236 138.393117

14:34

63 68

2:10 2:1 1- 14 l :q

lj

141. 254

15:3

IH- 6 1):9

us

) :1-3

298 255 39, 186, 237, 238.256. 290- 191,

301 186 40101

417"3

j :IO

74 267, J20

75

):24

161, 4 19ll4

39jlll 4

3:18

):29

"7 286

1):39-40

ISf 63 64 11 j6

15:41 -50

4l4nl4

15:10 15:16 15:24- 17

15'42-55

53

4

4'4 4')-7

59 5)

4:5

9-10 39-Jntl

4:8-9

u

..J-:21-}J

60 37

'5=4-4 1)'49

68, )31

53

p2

1.6:21

llj

P4 p6- t8 5='7 6:11

4151117

1

j6, 68, 1..J4, .Jij!1l6, 4ljl1l7 64

76

15:50

s:s•

2

s:J

"7

146, 153• .pjlll7 l.lj- 216

Corinthians

J:5

113

3:6

115

3:1}- 17 3:1}- JS 3:14

160

4'4 4:8-9 ..p6 p6 6:4-5 II

168

Colossians j:9-ll "7 Ephesians

so. 4 1914

2:3

'53-154

11

2:1 1-11

255· 257

396n20

4:22- 24

U7

"7

p2

116 396nl0

5'32

48 26)

6) 76

Philippians l :j-8 2:j - 10 l :j - 11

54.4151117

2:10

12

396n20

):1ff.

6j

):6 j:8

39 6)

11:5 11:12-1} lt:1J- 27 11:14

so so

11:14 - 26 12:,- 5 13:4

39, so

169

Galatians t:l

XI\'

1:1}

79. 187

. ..s.

5) 68

ljS

1 T h cssaJonians 1:9 ll.., 35 2:q - 16 82, 401114

tvfaccabces

2.:15

9•

I

·P5

181 64

1- 2 11:21 15:22-!J

2 Macc.abccs

.;pj-17

393115 389n6 16-17

1 Timo thy t:tJ

187

1:10

76

2:21

8, j88n5

2'4

)17

7

ljS

"5

317 4 Ezra 1):)2-JS

33

Titus 3:3

187

The Lives of the Prophets Hebrews 8:5 9:u- 18 l

9t. 404015

159 159

Pcrcr

"'

j:tj- 16

RABB IN IC SOU RCES

76 55

A~vxlah

Zanth 390nu

•Joh n 2.:18-19

.p j:6

76

b A:10d.1h Zt~rah

jl jl

4;1

428llj

j Avodah Zarah .!John

1:78

407013

jl. j6

7

APOCRYPHA ANI) P S EUDE PIGRA PHA

J\1ishtklh Sanlxxlrin 4·6 .'(1 10 3961118 10.1 41604

PiNi AJ!C& Tob ie 4:16 14:6 14=7

J,l5 195 II, J5 33

353

j Sorah 7·' lib

Wisdom of Solomon 9:15 ISS 13-15 392n1 13:10 t.f..:2J-JS

4l80j

lj

25

Sirach 36:7- 10

Tanhttma Va:Yt"r.f 6

DEAD SEA SCROLLS

J3 D.1masms Dorumcmt

&ru ch 4:15 1

401n.2:

33

Enoch

91:9

Pesl>a Hltbbakuk 8.8- 13

33

401n2

Anciet1t Dorumtnts AUGUSTI NE

About H~mie; (tk Hal!resibus ad Quodtmltdeum fiber muts) 46._9-10

410n6

A§Jinst tbe Ac.:tdL-.,nirs (ronh<J. a.cttdemicor) L3,9 1.1,6 J.16,t3

ljJ

r33, 156 1.)1-152

A_;:tinst Faustus (ronmt Famtum Mauidkleum) IJ 1.2

2.1 1.5 ) .I +I 4·2 5·l

;.8 5.10 6.1 6.) 6.4 6 .5 9-1 9.2 10.2 II

I I.J

ILl

12 11.1 12.j 12.4 12.7 12.8 12.9 11 .10 11.11 12.1.2 11.12- 13 t2.Jj 12.14 12.1j 12.23 12.23-24 12 ..26 12.44

21), 123, 278, 279. 421111 214 214 278, 179. 409"5 110, 114, 4 10n6 410nS 45 213, 233 409n3, 413-4141112 409n5 234, 2j2, 4010118, 41Jillj 253- 254 J09 247. 2)0 41)01 179 286 118 2t6, 42101 258, 425n4

323 214 4J 4J

42. 43.263 tOt , 26}

24-4. 2j0, 264, 169 260, 266 266-267, 267, 268, 269, 276, 278, 279, j.!O 26j, 2]0, 271, 173,285 26), 17 1, lf2, 17J, 43302j t6, 26j, 2]2, 2]6, 324, 326, j6j, 4331l2j 241, }42 41 276, 320, 43Jtllj )21 41 280, 4J301j

IJ

13-5 13-7 •3-7- 10 13-9 13 -9--tO 13.10 t3.t l 13.15 14.6 lj.l lj.ll 16J 16.2- S 16.j 16.6 16.21 16.24 16 .29 16.29-30 16.j2 17.1 17.1-1 18.! 18.2 18.3 18.4 18.6 19 .2 19.J 194 19-9 19.15 19.16 19.17 20.3 10.3-4 20.4 20.10 20.18 20.22 11.3 H

21.1

llA ll.j

21.6 22.7,22

21.7.32 ll.q - 19 22.1]

12.18 21.21

dtl d

Au.thors •

4t. 269, 323 258, .p;n4 274. 282, }41 354 274 174 2n.34r 282, l8j, l8J- l84

245 250 uJ,231

277 247, 42Sn7 251 29j,296-297,428n7 252 1n. 311 255 254:255 255 255 217 252

2)4 147. 2jl., 398118 253

243 250, 261 253

297 251 154 246 256-257 257· }00 40tn6 23J, 275. 3991110 .p0n9 275 48,344 176

)25 286-287, 323 219, 187 219, 287 lt9-ll0, 187 43 287 287 287 248, ]44 287 2j0, 261, 287

.-~&J

22 ..22 21.23-24 22.2-4 11.28 22.36 22.39 22.48 22.j0 22.66 22.67 21.{0 12.74 22.74-75 22.76 22.78 22.79 22.87 21.89 22.9J 22.94

2]8

2}

287 245 336

J7

l 6l

j.ljJO

336- 337 286 286

AJwwrs t.o Simplkhmm (de dit~nis qudNtionibus ad Simpliri(tmtm)

J4J

1.1,6 Lt,I0- 11 l.t,l6

344 287 274:341 287-288 149. 286, 287 287 255· 28j, 286 249 141

4·' 25.t 26.5 26.7 26.8 30 -33 J0.6 31.1 31·7 32.12 32.18 32.12 J>.2- J JJ.J

2jl, lj2 2j7 2j8

2j8 218 :336 21j-l18, 118 218 2j7 258 258 217 118

A§timt Forttmattts (acta s.:>u. disputcuio ro111r.1 Forrunamm J'.-I.Jnkhaerlm) l- l

1-3 2-3 J

A.JuW!"r to Prtili:m (rotJlYd littemr P~tili.1ni Dmwristd.e)

101 JJ6, }44

117

I

'47-148 148

qS, 149 150, 414Jllj

143 ' 44 144: 149. 4 14015

l.l,l 1.2,4 l.l,j

1.2,6 1.2.,12 Ll,lj Ll.,lj - 18 1.2,16 Ll,IS 1.2,19 1.2_,21 1.2,22 II

q

408n1

174 174 174 174 174 '75 '75 176 1]6- 177 178, 4t7n11

180 180, 18t- t82. 180, 181, 285 285 411m2 '55· 188, 189, 178, 420 07 174 174

Cbrisritm 11:.1cbing (dr doctrina dmsliatkt) L3JJ7 2.2,3 2.tO,Ij 2.tJ,I6 3·5·9 J.6,ro .}.8,12

J.9,1J

•9> 192 191, l ..J-l 294· 4 19113 •9> 19.3, 194, lJS, 155 194 194 •93

j.IO,l4 j.IO,tj - ll, 20 19-4- 195 J.IO,t6 19l- J9j j .tS,l7 195 J.2JJJ '95

5

q4

7 8 10 '5

144:4151117 144 144 l4l 151: 176 '44.4'5"'7

Chrirfr Grac,;o .md Origin(d Sin (de gmrid Christi r&d.:> pruato originall)

'49

9.23 '5 15·5 lj .6

'7 19 l9-20 20

,, 22

141, 14j. 148, 149. ljl q 6, 1)1, 4151117 146- I..Jj, lj l, 170

2.40.45 Ci~•

&6

431n20

ofGod (de r;,•if.(lfe D~i) 41 54

JJ7 346 346

And~nr

15·7 ' 5·'5 18

tS-42--13 18-46 20.30 2 1. 12 11 22.1

22.S 12.29

12.30

346 346,347 339. 347 340 xii, 190, 348,363, 431n17 43Jnt 7 _ljl

337 255

j6j 338 338

Commentd')' tJn Galatians (cp;sro/~w dd Gal.1tas exfWt#io) 1.H,Ij 7·1-4 10 20.30

JOI 187 ..J31nl7 431017

11.1

255

35·5

jll 42501

41.6

CtmftssitJm (Confrssion"s) l..t ,I l.ll,l7 l.tJ,.l0-23 J.t6,.lj U7,.27 2.3.5-6

1.6,14 j.l,l

J.3.5 3.3,6 J.-1.7

J.4,8 j...J,IO 3.) J.5.9 J.6,t0 3.6,10- 11 J.6,u J.7,12 3·7,12-13 J.9,t9 J.l.l ..J.l ,l 4.1,.2 -1·3.4 4 ·14,13 ..J.16,jl

5

j.l.,l j.l,.l-3,9

202, 20]- 208, 41007

t08, j87f11 3S7nl 197 3 3S7n1 201 108 411111 1 t08, 109 108 t08, 109, 109 110 108 109, t98 40906 198 203

105, 114- llj, n6 196 41Ull l IOj llj 410lll0 198 109

uS

DtJCII1'H'tlts a11d Authors • 485

j .3,6-j,9 t98 54:10-13 41l012 j .6,t0- ll 213 ; .6,11 41lnl2 5·9,J6-JO,t8 t22 113 j .9,t7 j.IO,t8 llj, 4 11nll j .tO,t9 llO, Ill 5.10,20 1tS, 119, 120 5.1t ,11 411nt3 lll, 209, ..JilOJJ 5·13,23 113 5·'4.4 t9S j.l-t,.lj 6.4.)-j,S 106 6A,6-j,7 llj 6.;,8 llj 6.6,9 17]., 4 1101 6.11,18 412Jll 6.11,19 131 6.12,22 lj l 6. 13,.23- lj, 1j 6.1),25

7.1,1 7·3·5 7·5·7 7·9,13 7-12.,18 7·13,19-20, 16

7.11,.27 8 8.1,1 S.t,l 8.2.J- j,IO 8.5,10 8.6,14 8.6,1j 8.7,17 8.7,17-9,21 S.u,17 S.t2,29-JO S.t2JO

9 9·4·7

9.9,ll 9.12,32 10

10-13 10.1,1 tO. ..Jj,]O

!Jl

41lntl 116 tlQ--t!l

12t t98 116 117

127, t98 tjO, tJl, 197, 37-t• ..J20n7 173 t28, 198 198 174 198 198 198, 336 199 ljj

199 lOS, 420011 308 133 387nt 310 100

339 202 101 200, 20], 257

213, 308, 4lllll1

II

109

l J.4,6-9,U 41009 I 1.6,8-1 l,lj 20)

41Ull2

H.7.9 1£.8,11 t£.11,14 tt.l j.lj lt. l.f,l7 ll. lj ,l O ll.17J6 ll.19J9 ll.j0,40 tr.jl,41 t2

tl.l ,l

tl.lj,l6

205 4-20n9 420n9 420n9 lOj - 20-t 104 104 202,206 104 206, 420119 100

206 206

rl.l3 J2- 30, 206 41 I} 200, 163

tJ.7,9 lJ.9,10 lj.lj,l6 t}.lj,l8 rJ.23 1}.1},}3 tJ.28A3 £}.29.44 1}.3}48 1}.}4 .48 13.34,49

203 207

6,J3 10,23 10,2.4

IO,.l..J

141 14 1 14 1

18,52

172

a&1imt the ltlauid)N!s (di' Gen(!S.i contra m.:mkhat:os)

GE'II<':iis

135 U9JO t35: 171 Ll2,3j- 2j,.0 l j j 1.13.40 309, 401n8 l.lJ r36, 184 2.4.j-j ,6 t91 2.tJ,IjA. t35

1'1x? Happy Lifo (di' bi'ata vita) 1.4 409n6 4 40906

190, 202, 206

206 4ll0 11 202. 202. 202, 206--207 202 202. 202,206

Utters (rpisrular) •8 Jt4,430n14

•8.,

"82 •n * 12

14 1 14 1 '54 14 1

28.1,1 28.3J

Fdith in11Jings UmN>n (di' fide remm

.!S.JJ--5 28.34-5

236

29.11

41009 174

J7.1- }

Fn~e

..JO.-tA

40

\Viii (de li/Nro arbinio)

I

146

L l,l

171

l.l ....

141 415n1S ljl, 171: 198

'57. 290

42-lnl t86

;,wisibili.um) 6.9 181,}19

L l l, l l

313 3l4 361 j6J, 375

*11.£3 359 *11.t3,j-6 435-43609 21 4l709 21.2-S 410n9 23 4t6n3 .!S 239,190,374, 418016

Faith and tl'lt' cn~t'd (de fide (md symbclo)

.po

..J,tO 6,r3

40.4,5 40 ...,6 40·4.7 41

239, 290 , 291, 375, 418n16 236 187, 238, 424-425n2 237. 2]8, 138- 239 291

375· 4160-J

l.J3,.19 171 t.14,}0 t.I6J.-t-35 14 1

4 1,.2.

2 2.l6At 2.20,)4

m

3

375

7J.4,6

291, 292

3-7,23

172

75

375. 418016

320,jj- j6 172

75·1,.2.- tl

292

J-4.71- 15:

19} 75·4,13 75·4.13- 14 296 19} 754 .14

76

Jlj,76

so

.;2on6

354

7'

427fl2 375, 4t8n16

171

7U,2

29 1

14 1

71.2A

292

172 172

]0.2,4

75·4.•7 75.6,.2.0-2.t 75·6,.2.0- 22 75·7,.2.2 8l 82..2,6 822,7 82..2,8 82..2,9 82.2,12 82.2.,1} 82..2,14 82..2,15 82.2,16 82..2,17 822,18 82..2,19 82..2,2! 8l.J,23 82.3,24

Sl.JJt 8'-4,)) 82.5,34 90 91 91.2

'"

121. 1,2 12t.l,7 12C.l,l t 149 149.1,.2 149.1J I..J9.1.9 149.2,18 J49.2,19 149.2,.2.0 J49.2,.l.t l..J9.2,2l. t8j.6.ll 18).6 ,24 •96 •96-4 196-4, 16 2.04.2

297- 2.98

302 293

Tbr! Lord's St•mtoll on dJc- Mount (tk sermo Domini m mom47) '-9,23 )09

291 298.jl6,J7j. 4 1Snt6

298 298 299 299 299 414nf

299 299 299.300 300 300 )01 301 301 301

302 302 302 43401 43401 43401 30-J, 361, 375. 419n9

.,., ,_

)'' ->

326, 327 JO..J,Jl6,36t,}6J,375 )26

326 316, .)26-317, 4330lj

327 j2S, 431n17 3.!8, 318--319

329 319 343 343 408027, 4.!9 09 430m2 312 43-JOj

Ureml lmt~Jpll'Mtion ofGenl"sis (de

Ge,w:>i ad litti"rnm) 3-li,JJ 9.J,j- U,I9 9.10,16- tS 9-30,-10-41

337 337 337 337

9..)1,4!

33i

10. 11,19

431o20

ManiclMMI1 Mo-rals (de- moribm Mrmic!Mrorum) 10.]4

410116

Mm
l .J 10.16 H.40

410116 409n6 ti l

tj2

Nott!s on Rom.·ws (r!xposi#o 84 propositionum ex epistola ad Rom.-mos) II

lj -18.1 lj - 18.2,10 28- )8 44·1 44·1-..J6.6 44-3 jj.l- 2 jj.l-j

55·5 60.2 60.4 60.8

60.11 6t-62 6t.l- 3 62.1-7 62.9 62.17-13 62.19

66 66.1- 2 66.6

67 68 68.4

175 16) t6j '74 t6j- J66 420nu o66 o66 176 167 o66 t66, 175 t68, t80 168 188 o68 o66 169 179 179 t69 170 170

'57· '57 '57

179. t80

On Order (dl" ordine) 1.8,15 tJ3 2.9,.!6 tJj 412n2 1.17,-15 On tbt TtJ·'<> Souls a§limt tl~ ManidJc-es

(dt duabus animabt~S comra ma~ticbou-os) Uj, ..J08m

9.11 10.1} 14.23

152 tj2

488 · A1t
Vdrious Questions (dc> diwrsis 83 f.lUtlestionibus)

•33.1 lj6.3

61 61.1

164,374 164

355

61.j

J6j t6j J64

OtJ

6q 61.7

66 66.1-l 66.} 66.6 67 68 68.3 68-j

•57. 169, 174· 375 170 170 170, 187 1)7, 375 1)7, 181, 375 179 175, 1]9, t80, 181

0,. tlx! Work of Mtmks 37

)12

•96·4

J09 31l 309, 3••. 408111, 4301112 413m2

Srmwns on tbe Gospel ofJolm ( 1htct.:ttus itJ es•angelium lolvumis) 3-19 306 10.4 16.3 35·7

51.8 5J.6 93-l 114 .40 3•9

305 3u 306

JU 306-307 306 J06 306

St•rmons on tl~ Ps,dms (enarnt.tiottc>> in Psalmos)

Rcrr..tcMtiom (Yt'tractationrs) prologu~ 3 42rn8

j.U,t

309

j2.2,6

309

Lj.,2 L9,2 1.9[8[,1

..JO.I..J,7

311

jO..t j6.9,1

309 321

)8.2,7-8 59·•

319 361

59.1,12

>->

Cl7

l.l8 c[18j 17 1.20[19[ L23fllj,t

133 309. 401n8 171 14 1 1}6 1)4. '57

416n3 1)6-157

4 1

196

2.6, 1

200

2.7, 1

235

1.28,1

4 18m2

Sermon Dmis '7·7 17·7·9

79

.109

Sermon agpimt lbe jews (Tht.ct.'1ctus .1d1oersus lmktros) L2 J30 l.J-5 330 l.J-6.8 330 JtO, 330 7-9 7-10 7.10-S.u

J30

8.11

J30 330

9.!2-IO.Ij

J30

Sc>rmom (wmumes)

.,.

59.1,.21 324 59.1,.21- 11 325 361 59·1 59.2,2 59.1,22 59.2,6-7 59.1,22 91.2 148.17

325 325 325

325 309 309

Soliloquies (soliloquia) 1.14,24

ljj

n ·ue Rdigwt: (de wra n..,igio1w) 26-49

413nu

)2.101

156

Unfinisbed Commcmary ou J~omdns (epistolae ad Rom.111os inrl~ruta exposito) 6 9-1 q .l 15·5- 0

187

15.6

417011

177

5·5 9-3-3

311

309

11.6

187

"·-1

)54

ll.J-4 66.6

177-178 170

5'·5-6

410n6

ulA.t}

309

Unfinished Lirmll Commmrary Otl Gcmesis (de GcnNi t~d litter.:rm

Sped.-tl i.afl/'i 4.}4.178

17

impo:rfcctusli~r) JO.U ,t9 43lll10

+•78

49

Us~fitlnm ofIklief(d£> uri/ira~ o~dendo) l.l ttO, 115 , 149, JS7n1, 409n6 2,4 114

20.102- 104

Virtues

3.5 3.9

AI'O& di!--Rabbi 1\'.:11.111

·H

413n 9

4l9nl 4l904, 419-4-lOllj

6,13

Ill

11,.27

lj1

CHR IS TIAN T EXTS

Athcnagoras JEWIS H TEXTS

L"'Wftlo 1

Calhnicus Life of HJ'P~tius

Josl'ph us A.jtitttl Apion 4+1 39tnl

}!'wish Antiquitif.>s 12.216

J90nto

389n6

11.t47- t53 39tnl 14.tt0

l4

14.U) 16.1)6- 149 J6.1..J9 1.6.H j

17 39lll4 39104 391n4

18 .66-80

398n9

71x> jewish \V.-tr l.lSj - 288

25

6 6.2)0

402n7 40307

Philo Crt•OltiOtt

40]1l25

John Chrysostom Discom"St>s tl&titts& juddiziflg CbristiaJJS 1.2 94 1.3-5 94 1.4

4071l1j

Lj

94 94 94

1.6

3-J- 4 3-4

4-3 7·' 8.8

94. 408028 94 94 94

Clement of A]cxandria Mi.tc-t'llr.mies; or StnmMra 6.42.2 38907

Tb.:-

Commodian /nttntcrions

2.8

13.69

j]. t-JO

j6.1j7

40jn1t

C)•prian 39tnl

TIN! Lifo of Moses 1.4l- 41

ll

Tbe Migration of Abraham 16.89-91 230

16.89-93

49

Questions ami Ansrt>~n· 011 Exodus 2.5 392n2 2.6 392n2

To Qttirinius Lj

131

crril of ;-\]exandria On Wlor;bip in Spirit and Tmtb

}.91.3

40)021

Epip hanius PtmariotJ d§1i1Js& Heresies 18.j,l 101, 4()Sn28 }3.3-7 399ntl

490 · Anclt'llf DonwurHs ..md Authors

Euscbius 11~e Hisroo• oftiM Cburcb j.rS-4

395012

J.24·5

428114 404nl6

j.J6,Jl 11~e

72-73 80-82 86 90-91 tll- 11} 128

295 70 159 '59 3961119

83

Lifo ofConstantinE' 3·3> )42

•33 IJS

Minucius Felix

First Apology 1.66.} 72

11~e Oaavius 10-4 lJt

29

90

70

ll9

Hilari:utus

Mart)•rdom ofPioniO'S

On the Pass.1u o{Time (dE' m-r·su wmporum) '·55-74 4141114

19

Mart;yrdom ofPo[vcarp t.U

lrcnacus Agplmt Hrtresics Ll O,I

6f

1.26,2

427113 42711}

J.ll,l 5·'·3 u.S

427") 399-4001114

Jerome Commentary 011 Gttl(ltidns l

418nlj

2-lHJ

44m

On Fowmus Men 53 41307 Justin Ma.rrrr

Dialogue ll'itb Tr.ypho u - rl

402ll5 86

70,s5

u - r4 !6 18 19

85, 2jl 85, 151 147.251

l l-12 21

147

23

2)1

27

85

29 32

Sj

38 43 47 )6 56-62

66-67

ss

70

69

295 4'7n3

69, U9-110 69 295

403n9

92

Miracles ofSt. St~phr-u 1.2

J6l

O r igcn AjVinsr Celsm 1..29

lj6

t.Jl

422n3 418n5

t.J.J-35 1.47 l.l 2.J4

Jll

j.l j.S

88

J.ll 4·31

J12 156

95 .JOinj

;.63

84 390010 3951llj 95.400015

6.27

90

5·25 5·41

Comme1ttw 79 408n2S OtJ First Principles 4.2,1 398n6

Philostorgius

Clmrrb Histo1)' 2.16

39utl2

Pos.sidius Tbe Lifi• ofSt. Augustine 4 138, .J08m 6 105,142,148. 4 ' 4"'5 19.3 )1.2 j8,61 ..Jt3n10

Prod us

j .l,.t

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Homil]•

) .l,l-3

227

'5

407l1l4

Apology Secundmw

26.J

84

lLttn- 11J AMgusdM

-lO.!

89

3

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&verus

l.l!tUr on lhr Com't'f'sum oftlx> }til'S

Sco,.pitu:e

6.1

359 359 358-)59

6.1 6..j

358 359· 43jn8

To the l'14tums l.lj.J--l 40jnll

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~3Sn8

7·3 8.1

~)jl.S

T)"Conius

4JSnH

Tbr! Book of Rult$ prologue 159

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4·-J-j.l

8.-1-s l j.l - 1

lj.J-14.1

360 408n16 j60

10

90

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161 161. 161, -419"4 160. a6l,. 419n4

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361 361

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OTHER ANCIENT TEXTS

~;sn-

~35"7 ~;;n6

4)4n6

Tcrru lhan

Oto Cassaus

Roman Htstor;y 67.1.p- 1 27 Herodotus

A.JtiMt Mllrrlon

TM Hisrort.ts

l..tS,l-3 l..tSJ

U7. uS

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J88ns

3·SJ-3 3.7,1 3.8,1

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8.14-1.1-3 -

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Juhan A§titJS£ the G4111rans

J.aJ

41t1ns

3.17,1-3 }.19,1

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4JJn8

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J-lG-11 j.ll,l j.l!,j

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10.96

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49'l · Andnlt Documents and A1Jr!Jors

SaJiustius Concerning tiM c~ds (md tlw

Digest 48.8.11

Uniwne

jO.l.j.j

3

398n6 T h t-odosi.tn Cod~

Srilfit4tl Mm1)'YS

l.l f.l

3 7 8 r3

8.12 8.10 8.25- 27 15·5·5 16.8.9 16.8.16 16.10.2 16.10.7 16.10.18 16.11.3

403m3 403nt3 403m3 403m3

ROMAN LA W

Code ofJu stinian

'·55.8

358

430013 43406 43406 43406 39001! 43406 -4351l7 230

406n!} 174 355

SU B) EC T S

Abmham: in convrrsation \\~th Christ, 69; as f.1.ther of Gentiles, 186; as font of Egyptian civiliz.u ion, 46; as modd for conv\':rts ro judaism, -49; and the Spartans, 389n6; in

l}conius, 160-t6J, 420n5; as viewed by Manich~.-~s. 2 19--220,252 Adam: Adam's effect on human nature, 170-17.2; and the ma.<sa pt'{X
allegory (SlY afro rhcroric): and Ambrose, 115; and Philo's biblical theology, 47-49; and polemical

rhetoric, ..J-llfl.4; and proplll"Cy, 346; and rendering the OT a Christian book, 8; as rcdmiquc fo r makins nar ratives philo.sophically coherent, 45, 397n4; in tension with •history,' 417n8; J.nd T)teonius, Jj8-r60 (t)'pology} anti Judaism. Sre contra ludaeos apocaJ}'ptic (s« also conv~rsi on): and Christian mi ll ~nar-i anism, 4041116, ..p0n9. 4'41114, 436mo; and the fate o f pagans at the End, 3.2- 34; and inclusion o f pagans in c:.u liest Chr istian communities, 3-t-39; and the r~su rrecti on o f the d~.1d,19-}0, jJ (Jesus) asceticism: and Augustine pr~.-~conwrsion, 117, 131-t}l, 198, +t3nr, and t\•1anic.hacan Elect, -409n6; and p hilosoph)~ 109, tl4, t28, J) t; as a rt'sponse to 4

a poca lyptic convictions, 119, 411n5; and sexual renunciation, 128-130, 412n6 Augustine: Conftssirms as autobiog· r.1ph)'. 196-101; embract' o f rel igious conclon, 273,340-344, 35-1,361- 361, 426n3, 434n1; as cpist.:mology, 201-108; on free will, 14l- t-t6, ljl- tjl, 165- 176, 187 (construction of Vaul), 198 (construction of conv~rsion in Confrmons), 177- 2.89 (the Jl•wish nation), }15, 334; hdpl-d by T)teonius, 157-163, 164, 166-168, 175 (divine foreknowledge .tnd election), 243,344: hostile rhetoric on Jews, 302-30;7; and J~romc, 186-187,108, 236-47, 290-302; on languasc as a theological problem, 44-246 (rer also rime); as a ~
Augustine (umtimwd) memory, 203-207~ traditional Jewish practices sign.tl and s.1fcguard orthodox Christian doctrine, 248-257, 26-f, 317, 338

baptism: and adoption of pagan Christians into God's family, 9 (Paul); and rutti·JL'\\'ish \'iolence, 357.361 (Min orca)~ and commit· ment to celibacy, 127- rlS, 173 (AuSllsti nc). 129 (Marcion); and the Donatisc co ntrowrsy, 139- 140; and sacramenul semiotics, 246; a'> SL"C'ond, spiriruaJ birch, J 17 (F.tusrt.lS); as sole st,Jwnr for Jewish guilt for killing Christ, 232 (Cyprian); as cypological kl'Y to understanding the incident o f the Golden Calf.l.4 9 blood sacrificcs: and ci\'ic piety, 13; defended by Augustine, 24J., 244, 248 (pag.'lns copied Jcv.·ish wor· ship), 250, 30j (anticipation of passion o f incarnate Chrisc), 264 (Abcl),l66 (prophesies eucharist), }16, 3}8, 344; d ivinely repudiated, 85 (destr uction ofTC"mple), 230 (Temple, asa.Jn); and the imjXriaJ cult, 14. 15 (Constantine); as indicating low status of sod of Jsr.1d, 66 (Valenrinus). 70 (and Marcion), 247j as indicm1ent of Jews and ofJudaism, 70 (Justi n Martyr), 71. 73, 11 2 (rvtanichL"CS), 2 19 (Faustus}, 262 (Augustine), 26-J(Abd); Jewish one..; intrinsically idolatro us, 127- 13t (~·l arcion
Cai n: and founder o f the c-archly Cicy in City o[GCJd, .14j-}46~ and thC' intupn:t.uion of l's 59:12, 34-326, 375; markL-d by God for pro n..'Ction 26j, 319; "mark o f ,. a.s Jewish religious practice, 271-272, 275, 319; a.s S)'rnbol for Jev,:ish biblical

intcrprct'.i:lrcion), 219, !4. 231, 233, 315~ approach co criticizing go spels, 216-218; approach to criticizing l'aul's lcttcrs. 21j-116; focus on anti-Juda;sm, 219; ignorance and .,.·iolcnce o f O 'Ps god and heroes, 219-210; missioni;--Jng handbook 2l4 celibacy: and Augustine in Milan, 1.!8, 130 , 173. •98. 405nn7 and 9; co herence- with Va1cnrinian and MarcionirC" Christianitic..'>, 71, t29; and Christian m onasticis m , 130~ and Gospd of Matthew, 129; and Jcn:ish apocalyptic behaviors 129 4 11n)..> Uesus • Paul' Esscncs) . • ·' and Manichaean elrdf. 108; and ctitmJ lihfr..t/e) 130-131; and p.1san philosophies, rlS, 4 12n4. 412n6 Christ: as crl.'.acor god, 52, 69, 120; neshlv rc.surrcction of, 337; incarnarioit of anticipated by Jc\\~sh blood s.acrifices, 250, 330~ invo ked ac moment o f Augustine•s conversion (CtmfrJsiom 8), 199; killed by Jev.·-s, 82-85,90, 92., ll6, 251, 271, 276, 277, 282, 289, 306, 3u, 318, 322,325, 3l8. 346, 431017; onJy appeared to haw flesh (Docccism), jl-)8, 67 (Marc ion), 68 (Valenti· nus), 111, u 4. JJ9 (Mani), 144, ljO, j6j, 399111}, 4 ' 4"'4· 4lj01]; opponent ofJev.-ish law, 227, 252; present in OT,j9, ]0, jj, llj, 232., 40, 241,2)0, 263- 2.66 (Abd), 287, jt6, 321, 341, 363; and Second Coming (Pm'Omi.:~) , 12, 38 (dday). 63 (delay). 64, 133. l39, 342-343 (de-cschato1ogizl-d), 361, 36j, 410119; as rimdcss beginning o f Creation (Confossions 11), 420119; as rurn ing point of h istory, 165, 197, 267; vigilam in keeping Jl·wish law, 101, 2)3- 254 (circumcision}, 155 circumci.sion: and Christian hcn~rics, 297; deridL-d by non-Jews, 27. 221, 233, 244, lj0 -25l: God's command

S~tbjulS

co lsrad, 299; identifier ofJev.tish god, 252.; as nor praccicL-d by non· jewish Christians, u2; o f Jesus, 300; parti ct~lar indic:uo r o f Jewish stants, 19. 27, 35; spiritual mean· ing of, 49; typological prophL'C)' of Christ an d of n rshly rcsurrL-ction, .ljJ- 25-1 coercion: of Christians by Christian state, 341. 354-356 {Donarists); of Chr istians by pagan s tat~, 86-93; of jcn·s , 357-358. j60-J6t (Minorca); of pagans by Christian state, 273274, }40-J.p. 354 Const.tntine: and che Ch ristian c ute of the emperor, t5, 230, 391ml; and che Donatist controvtrsy, 13S- l39; dfect o n defining Christian orthodoxy, x:\:i-xxii, 71 (LXX as che Old Testament), ;6. tOO, 430m2; and EtL-.cbius, 342, 432n22; and je\l-ish communities, 87, 274; a*" stimulating Christian d i ~'i'rsity,

97

rontr.r lmlac-os traditions: already in SL-rond<entury Christian " 'rirings, xv; .-.nd Christian identityformation, xv, 378014, 7 and 8; and Christian traditions about Rome's d estruction of the je\\ish temple, 131; and Cib• ofGod) j6j; contrast with vitality o f Jcwish·Christi.m soci.-tl co n· caccs, r01; and r.·ausnts, xx; gcncr· acrd by competition over converts, :\:vi-xvii; generated by gentile anraccion, boch Christian and pagan, co synagogue, 95-97, 405nlt, 406n22; identifies "Jl'Ws" v..ith "ncsh," 338; and Jewish rdiglous practic~. 44, 316; occ:.sionaUy used by Augustine, 262, 305 (sermo ns on John); in Srriac an d Coptic Christianity, 387n9; and typologr, 141 conwrsion: confu.sed with univers.tl apocalyptic acknowledgement of God, 33- 39 (ea rliest Chrisri.1n missions); of Constancinc, 99; to Judaism, 26-28; noc the ccntraJ theme o f Confessions., 196-10 1; and pagan Christians,31-31, 297 (F.:tusn.s); Paul's biography modeling Christi.1n conwrsion, tSj-188, 278 {Augustine)

·

4 9.):

Docctism: 56-58; .ucributcd to V.tlentinus .1nd M.wcion br heresiologists, 399m3; 11nd tvlanichaeism, 11 1-114, 119, 144> lr4~ Pauline -"upport fo r, j2- )3, 66 (Valentin us and Marcion), 150

L>onarists, Donacism: clnin'ls to Cyprian's a ucho ricy. 4t4n13~ coercion ,u a sprrics o f pastoral care, 356, 361~ coercion o f. 343344; and imperial legislacion, 434n3-; and millenarian belief.-., 4-10n9; o rigins of schism, t38-I..JO Euscbius: daims chat Flavius Clemens and Oomicilla ar~ Christian, 395ml; sees Conscantine as rcali· z:Jtion of the Bible 's messianic prophecies, 341-343, 431nH; an d Goopd o f Matthew, .p8n4; rrpudiation o f Montanists, 404016 exile (Jewish): of Adam and Ew, 191; of Aususcine, 408nt (a rumor); under Babylon in 586 B.C. E., j , 84, 86,282; of Cain, 170,318, 3ll.J46. 3..Ji; Christi:..ns rcfcr OT laments to Jews, promises of redemption to Christians, 282; of Donacist bishops, 355; o f Faustus, 114, 413011; God protects Jews in exile with "mark o f Cain../ l...lw, Jt9; of Ham, 319~ humanity's exile in time bL"C'ausc of Adam 's sin, 239, 345, >49. 363. 412n3 (_p.lsan item· rion}; Israel puni . . hed with Exile fo n._...,-.:r because of killing Chr ist and ri'fusing to conw n to Christianity, H6 ( ICrruJlian), 31 1, 318, j22, 315; and Jewish com· munity ofrvlinora (418 C. E.), 361, 392m; Jewish exile benefits the church. 276. 289, 306,364 417n6, -l-331llj;Jev.:s exiled with !heir books, 320, 329, 330, J ..J•; prophc· sied and lame.nccd in LXX, 84, 313; and Ps 59:12, 313 (TertuUian). 325 {Augusrinc), 330; «second ~xi l c'' after 70 C.C. .1 Christian theological cre-ation, 85, 262, 270, 275> 276,365, 391nt, 402nj; western Greek-speaking Uiaspora noc rhe result of exit", 5, 16, 402115

496 · SubJt·rrs F.lustus: .:mti-c.uholicism of, t39. 21.4, 4t0n9 (catholics just like pagans); anti-Judaism of the CapiUIIa, xix-:o:, tlj,ll4, 2tj, 2Jt,240. 251- 252 (circumcision}, 287, 323, 365; and biblical cxcgC"sis. 2tj, 2t7

(sosp,ls), 218-220 (OT), 2.14, 252 Ucsus :tS againsc Judaism), 295 (catholic to:.xcual corn •ptions o f OT), 297, ..ptm4; co nversion ro Manichacism, 296; encounter with Augustinc,2t3, 223, ..Jttm.!; exiled, 2t4, 409n3, 4l3nll; and Greco-l{o man rhctoric, 21t, 117, 42ln4~ and imi tntion of Christ, 113; t"lanichaean philosophical maccrialism, uS; and M.ucion, 214- ltj, 131; OT god as demon, 39Sn8; paganism as source of the idea of m onotheism , 233, 399010; on t>.auJ, u7, 215- 1t6, 42-tnt; use o f cacholic anti-Judaism,ll3. 224 (I~rtullian), 2j£, 140, 247, 262, 297 (Nazareans), } tj , 338 Forcunacus: on evil as cosmic, not merely m oraJ, r48, tjt, 153; the hish god is morally incorrupribl.-, 143; and the Ni, t43. t4-ht 45. q6 (Paul's letters), q 8-q9 (its authority); and Paul's authori ty, t50, tj6, 413m7; success in missionizing catholic Chrisrians, tOj, 150

God-fe.uers: Aphrodisia.s inscription, 21, 393n6, 40j-406nn2t-22; broad range of interests and activities, llj confusions caused by apocalyptic Christian message, JS; donor inscriptions, 393n6~ Flavius Clemens and l)omitilla, 394m2; pagans invol\'cd in synagogue life, lJ, 23 (Acts); worship nariw deities as well as god of lsmd, 34, J6, 96, 39jnt2 God o f Jsracl: .tcknov.:lcdged by n.uions and by lo\\'fr gods as supreme ar apoc.tlypcic End-tlnw, 12, J4t; actttall)' a demon, 398nS (Faus.tus}; auchor o f Jl·wish practice as well as o f j l'wish L.:tw, 244-259, 299, jt6-Jl9i and blood sacrifices, 8 (J'aul), ll7, 2Jt (Julian)~ defea ted by H.o me's gods i n 70 C.E., 2Jt; ide-ntified llS high god

of Gn•i:k philosophjcal paidcia (l>hi1o), ..J9i his law giwn b}' pre· Incarnate Christ, 70; his Law meant to be understood as Chris · cian a llegories or prophecic.", ]0, L;l {Augustine); che opponent, notch.- fa ther, o f Christ, 66-69~ present in Jerusalem Temple, 6 (Gospd of Matthew), 8 (Plul) gods (slY also allegory; idols): associated with fJ.IIen angds (Genesis 6:1-4), 247, 425n3; and blood offerings, 9, J3-t4; .tnd blood sacrifice co OT god, ll]-229 , 147-250 (defend ed by Augusrine); and cthnicicy, :\·viii, 7, tO, 27, 38; as interpreted philo.sophically, ~ lower gods call~.-"<1. dainwm:-sj"demon.s'• by

jc\•.:.s, 12.51 ( r~satm 95:5 LXX), by pagans, 5t, J97n8, and by Augustine (City ofGod 9.23), 52 gospel (message or proclamation): accepted b)' some Jews, 255, Jl8i broadcast through Hellenistic srtugogue, 2J, 32, 396n2o; as co nsonant with law (Tor.1h), 60 (Paul), 158 (r:vconius). 225 (because both Law and Gos~l oppose Judaism; Tcmtllian, 235 (Augustine), 242- 243; as contrast to law {Torah). 57· 67 (J>aul), 7t, ttl (Mani}, tt.!, llj (F.lUsttts), 2 t6, 24, 292; inrra·jC\\~.sh incer prcta· cions o f, xi\•, So. St; Israel's exile serves prochmation of, 289, 319, J2t, 317, >47; L.:1.w a Chriscological rode for, 92 (Marthe\\'); as mt-s.sage of Christ,2rJ (Faustus}; and pagan god-fearers, 3.2, JS, 396n17; preached by first disciples, l.J9; preached by Paul, 188, 192; rejected b)' m ost )cw.s,276, 282. l8j; cempo~rily rejected b)' lsrnd (Po.utl}, 62, 63, 77. l8t; universally proclaimed now that Empire is Christian, 344,347 Gospels (NT): as the aposrles' "memoirc.s," 72 {Justin}; auchority of. ljO, ll7 (faUS(US), l4 (Marcion), 257 (Augustine); blame Jcv..·s for death ofJc.sus, 9r-92, 322, 40214 ; canonical onl)' in late second/ early thi rd century, 72, 75, 399nt4 (l rcnacus); depictions of (pagan)

Subjrcts • 497 Gentiles, }2.; depictions of intrn Jewish hostiljty, 74, 79-80, 405n.2o; depictions ofJesus, xiv, .28, 29 (apocalyptic message), 39. 94 (l'a.ssowr), tOO (Jewish piety o f ), 256, 258,395016 (prophet o r messiah?); effects ofj udean wa1'S against Ro me on gentile inrcrprctu· tions o f, 82- 84, 32.2; 1\>lanichacan interpretation o f, uo, u2, 143-146, •54· 2J3-2l8, 152, 255· 4111114: ..j.2Jnl; as scct.l rian Hellenistic Jewish rexts, xiv, 81; as theological statcmems. 51. 55; t ranslated by Jerome, 291, 294; usL-d for anti-Jewish motifs. 75. 8!, 26t (Augustine}, 304-305; and usc of LXX ("OT'), 75, 91, 159 (typology), 2.25 ( fcrcullian•s anri Judajsm), 279 {prophecies) gymnasium: and Hellenistic culttJre, 2, 4l;Jcwi.sh presence in, 393n5; and rheto rical culture, 121 4

4

heresy {stoe alsr1 Docetism): co ndemned by c hurch leaders along with Judaism and paganism, 101; and Jewish Christianity, 292 Uero me), 2.99; original mcanins ofIMrres.ds~ 76; p rewnred by ad litti"ram understandi ng o f Scr ipture, 258 (Augustine}

idols (representations of the d ivine): and blood offerings. 21)- 229 (associated with judaism}; and Christian i mperiaJ law, 274 (N. Africa}; contrast v..ich lsr.tcl's Law, 257; and con\'crsion, to Jsrac:l' s god, >s (!':lui), 49, 364, J96m9; and cute of the martyrs, 410n9; and demons 247. 299; destruction of as sign of apocalyptic End· rime-, 29, 35, 64, 274 (N. Africa}, 340, 394119; fo rbidden by Judea.n god at S inai, u ; and t he Golden Calf {Ex. 32), 218. 47f.; and Paul's gentiles, 39 inc.un.ltion (m- alro b lood sacrifices): announced in OT throush blood sacrifice and circumcision (Augus tine), 250 ; championed b)•Justin , 68; C hrist•s fl esh asserted against 4

do cctic Christians in late first-century NT texts, 52 Jsrad: "a lf' lsrad sawd., 28l, 328, 362, 426114, 431m7; and allcienc monotheism, 19, 23; apocalyptic in1;athering, 29, 30, 32, 62- 64 (l'aul); and B.lbyl ~)nian Exile, 16, 86; biblical Jsr.u:l and Ro 1nan Jews fo rm a single community, 365- J66; distinguished a.s «fleshly·· :md "spiritual," 61 (Paul). 67 (Valencinians), 69-70 (Justin), 255. 274. 286, 289, 318, 3•9, 325. j26, 328, 338.364 (Ausustinr); forbidden to worship \risual rcprt'SCntations o f God, u ; fon."vcr in "exile;'' 2.26, 341, 364 {to benefit the church), 433n26.3; .t.s God's first born son, 9~ and idol worship, 228, 247, 248; ond Jewish sectarianism, 81; and pag.ins, 24 (JerusaJem), 31-36 ( Kingdom of God); permanently hardened as-1inst 1\"Cl'iving the gospt'l (Augustine), 170, 278, 280, 283-284 (s«:rct sin); recipients o f Christ·s grncc, 160 (l)tconius); retrograde people ncL'
Jeroml!: accusL-d ofjud.1izing.195; accuses Augustine ofJudaizing, 296; argument wich Augustine over Galatians, 186- 187.208, 2.~6-l...j.l, 47. 2j6, 290-l9t, 298, 301,301, 317, 3.21, 338, ..j.t8nm5- J6, 424nm-2, 4l8n6; Augus rinc•s source for Larin translacions o f Gr~.-o.ck patristic commentacors, 157; and Jewish biblical intcr prctacion, tOO, 195. 408n27; and 4

j C\\~.sh·Ch ristian

minim, 292-193.

296, 299, 427n3; and Larin rr,ulslacion of t he O ld Testament, 291,

498 · Subjects Jerome (e<mh'r.ued) 191 (Oea), 193. 194, 417n1; and the O rigenisr conrr()\f'('rsy, 4.U-nl.O; similarities with f.tusrus' anti· Judaism, 296-298 Jerusalem: aJJ.-gori;.-.cd by P;J.u), 60; apocalyptic glorification of.1:9, }0, Jl., 33 (nations streaming co city), 70-71 (dwelling-place of resurrected saints), 113, 414nq (•ooo*yc•u reign o f saints with Christ); built up by Constantine, }42, 43lnH; and Christian origins, xiii, 29 (l'ilati.' arrests and CXL"CUCes Jesus), 31,81-83 (gospels), r86 (Galatians), 194. 395n16, 39601~ contc.sti ng J e\\~sh and Christian apocalyptic rmditions of, .p0n9; dcstrorcd by B.lbylon in 586 B.C. E., J6, 29, 281:; destruction t he punishme-nt for J ~.-'\vs' killing Christ, 151 (Justin),1:82 (Augustin.-), 3ll. (l.uke and John), 402115~ and divine presence, 8 (Paul); and Episdc to the Ht.'brcws, 159; frequented by Jesus, 100; I-I adrian buries under Adia Capitol ina, 84-85~ as historical symbol for the City o f God, 345· 364; and Julirut, l] r; and rvlaccabean remit, 8, 19; as nit'hupolis o f the western Oiaspora, 16, 84, 39J-39ln!; in moder n Jewish liturgics, 86; and Paul's activity, 418n1.J, 417n3 (the collection); Roman d~cn1 crion of in 70 C. E., xvi, ll9, 28r, 4l4nu (Christian claim thar Jerusalem's destTuction made practice o f Judaism impossible); and Sc Su•phcn's rcljcs, 3591 as symbol of eschatological ptacc, 164 (Augus· tine); and the Temple, 19 (Herod the G r('at),1:3 (pilsrimagc site), 24 ( rcmple tax), 394n8 Jesus of Nazareth: apocalypcic message o f, 19, 3J, jl., 395016; arrest and execution by J>:ilace, 19, Sj (progr~sivc ~·xculpati on i n Christian tradition); bbminsJl'WS for death o f, 82,84 ( Ha.T Ko khb.1 fC\'Oi t}, 91, 91: (t.'xtension of blame to subsequent Jl·wlsh generations), 306,322, 401-402n-1; and Lhri.stian origins, x:xii, ll., 31; debate o~'C r body of («doc~ti sm"). jl-jj, 56, 216, l.6J;

gospel portraits of, xi, 39, 74, 75· So, 81, 81, 83, 110 (incompatible gcneaJogies in MatthL•w and luke), 119 (celibacy), J64, 186 (as teaching against Judaism), 305 (Gospel ofJohn), 4()jn1:0 (hostilities with synagogue i n Gospel or John); high thL'Oiogic.tl claims for, 52; identification as "messiah," 31, 32, 63, 144 (J'aul}, 396nt9~Jewish environment of, 28; Jewish piety of, 6, 31, 81, tOO (in gospds),153 (Manichacan explanations for},1:j6 (Origcn•s explanations for). 1:96 (faustus), 408n18; Jewish piety o f as asserted by Augustine, 1:47,254-1j8,16r, l.SJ, }00-JOt (against Jerome), 317-318, jj8; left no wririn&S, 148; mocked in larer centuril•s by JcYi'S, 357, j86n7, 405n20~ and pagan Gentiles, 21:., 31-31 (nesJi· giblc contacts \•.:ith and teachings about); parentage o f, j86n7; reshaping of rradirions about, 51, 63, 73, 76 (fourth-century church), 1:16 (as repudiating Judajsm); and resurrection traditions, 19, JO, 36 (apocalyptic infl•rcn~ of his followers) J ~.-·ws: accused o f persecuting Christi.1ns, 90-94~ as being in same religious c.tregory .1s Christians, against pagans and Manich~s. 275; blrunt.'d for death or Chrisc, 81:-8j, JO.J-30T. Christian identification o r J ~us as,, Jew, r00- 101, 256; condcm· nation of pagan gods, 25- 1:6; as custodians of sacred books, 276--1:77, JI9-Jl4; at home in cities outside o f Judea, 16- 1:3, 87 (tov.:n councilors), 393n5; and lorahy to ancestral custom, 16, l.6J- l7j ('ma rk o f Cain'), jl8-3J9; permanently b linded b)' God from seeing cn1th o f Christian daims, on account of Sl-'crt"t sin, 2n-280, 281:- 1:89 (Augustine), J1:6- J19; rl.'spccc fo r pagan gods, 13, r7- 20, 392nn1: and 4; rhetorically associacffi with "ncsh," 66--67,71, 73, 74 (Paul's Christian oppo· nents), 78, 114, l.l6 -119 (Tt.'rtt1llian and rvlarcion); •servitude' co

Subjuts · 499 Christians a metaphor, 172-277; u:mporarily blinded by God from seeing rnu:h o f Christian claims, 61- 64. 2.80- 181 (Paul}; trndirion.-.1 pracrin-s acknowledged by Kom:m law, 88, 357, 434n6; westl'rn D iasporn not t·he rl.".l>ult o f exile., 16- 17, 39•- 39lm, .JOln; John Chrysosro m: ag,tinst Christian J udaizing, 94. 404018, 408n18~ scolding Je-wish social behavior, 407n23 L.icinius: Augustine's ad ...ocaC)' of, 3t3- 314j and Bishop Victo r, 3t3; co nfu!K!d legal situation of, 312; a Jew, 313

Manichaeism: and anti-Judaism, 58, lll, 114, 231; appeal tO the roung Augustine, 108- 109, 110 (cbi1ns to superior mti onaJjty}~ and d occric Chrisrologr. 58, m - 112, 144; c:xpr.r· rise in script u ral criticism, 116, 323, 4ln11; as foil for Augustine's arguments, 194-208 (Confosrions), 365; as linked to anti-cath olicism, ul- 114; Mani's commit ment to a mission church, 106; and Marcion, 214,119, 399m3, 410117, 4-!mt; materialism, uS, 110, tl7; missionar}' success, 106, r.p, 150; origins in rcrsi:ms rvlesopotamia, 106; and l>aul, JIJ- 112, 1-44, t46, 41 1RJ4, 4 1jlll; pcrstcution by Christian Roman gowrnment, 107, 409n3; sexual renunciation, 108, 128, 413n7 Marcion: anti-Judaism of, 6], ul, 219, ll7; and anti-Marcionite polemic, ul, 225 (Tern11lian), l35; and celibacy, 129; Christ 1h e son of chc high god, 67, 69; creacor of«new c~tam ent,'' 68, 72.; de-Judaiz.uion of Christi;mity, 68, J U - 112.; and docctism , 399n13~ founder of a Christian church, xxi; and god of Genesis, 1 20~ lcwl of education, 399n11; and ManichcL'S, m , 116, 119, 214, 219 , 231 (source for Faustus), 4lOn7, 4l1nt; and readins o f J'aul, 6]-68, 116, 410n7; renunciation o f LXX, 67, 114; and Tcrtullian,

2.14- 229, 423n8; and theory o f inu:rpolarions., 68~ \'i~o-•ws on mattl.'r, 6r, .,·ie\I!S o n s..
North Africa: bi blical culture o f, 150, ..J08Jt27 (OT), 4 16n3; bi rthplace o f Augustin~, 3~ Christian m il· lcnarianism o f, 410.119, ..Jl4Jt14; .and coercion ofDo natists in, 4}4nn3 and 4; and continuity of (paganJ civic life post-Consuntine, 390n 1 1~ and rontr.t Judaf!O'S tra· d itions, 231, 4241111. 425n3; and Cypr ian, 231, 414m3, 424n12 (as source of loc.al « mh·a. J.udaros traditions); dense rd igjous,lcthnic demography, xx, 173-17-t-; d ivisions wit h in cat h olic church o f (Caccilianisrs and Oon.uists), c38- 140, 157, 354; ccdcsiasticaJ c ulture o f, 173~ cduc.uion in fourth cenrury, 5; Honorius shuts d own pag..tn sites in, 273- 274, 353. 3)4. 4l6n3; import..tnce of Tt.rtullian in, 224 , lJt (as font of loca l co-ntra Juddcos t raditions); Jews o f, 11, 95, 96, 291, 307, 30831-i. 350, ..J08nl6, ..J29JU I, 430n 14,

soo · SubJt·rrs North Africa (c1.mtimu!d) 43.Jn6; Manichccs in, t06, 110, 148, 150 (missions), 155, 213 (Fausn1s), 240,301, 350, 4 15017; pagan god-feal\"rs in, 96, -t08n.l6~ rect·ption ofjerome's biblical translations in, 291~ and rd ics o f St. Stephen, 359, 362 (U7.otlis)

Orig.en: and allegory, 159, 398n6; and anri-Jewish accusations, 84, 90, 101; and Christian martyrs, 88; controversial kgacr, 333, 431n10; criticizes Christians for going w synagogues, 94; and final redemption, 334. 430m7; against hC'resy, 36'7; and inri'rpn:tation o f Galatians, 186; and Jesus rhe Jew, 256, 408nS; on Jewish sectar ianism, 40 m3~ and prob· }em o f evil, 333, 415n18, 431019 (on matt(:"r); reliance on J~.-...vish learning. tOO, 295, 408n17, 4llnj, 418n5, 428n6 (Hebrc·w); and resurrection o f chc body, 141, 331, 334.-JI 4nl4i and rhetor ic, !.17, 400n1j, 421n3 Paid~·ia (sft' also

philosophy): definitions of the H igh God. 4l-44, 46, 51, 63; and d occric Christology, 55-58; Hdlenisric Jews claim as their ovm, 46; hdpt'd to a rticulate Christian sectar ian differences, 40; innuence on \\'CSt(:"rn Manichoean religious concepts, 149 (god), 151 (free \Viii), 409n6 (daims to superior rationality) Paul (s« dlw Augustine): and "ado~ tion" of pagan Christians, 9, 394n11; all Jsrad to be saved, 61-03, 77, 1j9,180-18t, !.86, }28, }62, 364, 4!6n4, 43WJ7; apocalyptic convictions, 12,31 (inclusion of G~ntilcs), 3j, 60-64. 77, 119 (sexual ahsrin.:nce), 2.80, 341. 412n5; .ugues wich Peter in Antioch, 39, 236-239 Ucromc and Augustine), 190-301 (Jerome and Augustin.:), 39.3n7, 4 18nms-16, 425n1 (Augustine): ass.:.rcs t har

Jesus was human, 54-5.5; and Augustim•'s con\'crsion, 127, 131, 133, 198, 199; condemns idolatry, 35To and con\'i:rsion to Judaism, 37, 39; and death o f Jesus, 8.!, 9 1, 92, 401- 401n4, 404m5; d efinitions ofJcwishnt:ss, 8 (Romans); diffi· cuhy in designating as "Christian," x.xii. 60 , 62, 63; d ivides world into "Jews" and "G.:.ntiles," 34 (Gala· rians), .!SS; and d ocecism, 55-57, 68; dominates NT canon. 71; focus of Augustine's anti· to.bnichacan works, lj6-JS2 (divine justice and human frt-'C· dom), 335: and high Christology, 52-53; on idol-worshiping bap· ci:a-d. pagans, 38 (t Corinthians); importance of biography to Augustine, 18)-189,101, !OS, 235, 178, 4t9n17; imponanct of to Manichaeism, 106, 11 1- 117, 140, 143-153 (Forcunatus), tjj (Augus· cine}, 214- 116 (Faustus), 365, 410117, 4lllll4, 4151117, 4ljnl, 4!tm; importance o f co t>.·l a~ion, 67, 72. 119, 22.4. 399n11; letters as Hellenistic Jewish texts, xiv; negative comments on "flesh ," w; and pagan gods, t.l, 19, 53; "~ rSL'Cllh'd " by non-Christia11 Jcn:s, 80, 396n20, 400- 40101; "prrst-'CUCI.-'d'' Christian Jews, 80, 395n1r, and Philo, 47, 50; praise of Law, 8, 68, }89n5; repudiates other Ch ristian Jt-•ws who disagr« with him, xiv, 39, 76, 80; and r~urr«tio n, 56 (spiritual), 68, 141, 3J.2: and rheto ric, 75; and "rh.:.rorical" pagans, J 1 (Romans), 25, 392n1, 394n9, 426n5; riru01l demands 1nadc of pagans, 31, 37; and sexu.tl abstinence, 71, Jl8-129, ..p lnj; .and "spiritual" readings o f LXX, 58-6o, 75 (typolob"}'), 191, 40; in tension v.:ith portrait in Acts, ISj, 4181114; touchstone fo r Confrssiom, t97, 410n7, 420n1t, 410m2; used as font o f rontr.t Judai!Os cradirions, :-.:v. 73-74, 79, 90, 102, 1tl, 214-22.8 P.mlinus of Nola: and Augustine's r.:sponsc, 316-319,347, 419119 (Jews as «C.tin"), 433n16; d~.--ction and damnation o f Israel, 325-316,

Subjurs • 431017 (Augustine); and God's h idden justice, J.!9; and Jewish l·xile, 315; salvarion of all peop les, J!r. \O,.Tites to Augustine about Romans and t>s 59:t1, 304-. Jlj- }29. 361, 363 Peter: in Acts, 83; .ugumcnc with Paul in Antioch, t86, 236-240 (Jerome and Augustine on), 257, 29 0 , 291, JOt, ) t], 311, -tt8ntj, 424-425n2; associu«i wi(h Gospel of t\·1 ark, .!t7; d isparaged by Porphyry, 4t8nt5; as example of humility, 239, JOt; and mission to pagans, 393 -394117~ and Nero, 403ntt; and che •·useful lie,.. 298 l>hilo: and conversion to Judaism, 27; courtesy to pasan gods, 39.!n.!; JemsaJem as mctropoliSt diaspora citirs as p.ttrtd, 39t-39lnt; and Jewish practice, 49, 230; .tnd pagan jud:Uzins, ~and Paul, 50; and «spiritual,. inrerprrtarion of chc Bible, -17-jO, 54, 60, tj9, 130; and «true" philoso phy, 49; used by Ambrose, 124, 135 philosophy: .ugumcncs abouc as aym, ll!; .tnd a rs umcnts against tr.tdi· cionaJ cult, l1t; and Augustine's co tn>trsion, 133 (t>aul's lcttrrs), 156; AugustitH~·s first r nco untcr with, 109 {Cicero), 171; and call t-o sexual renunciation, 109, 124, 128, 131; d is· pun':s between different schools of, 4lln3; disti ncr from cradi· cionaJ cult, 41; d ire tr.td icion HciJcnistic paidcia, xviii, 41, tJO (Ro man otitun); evil as pm~rt(o bom~ tl.7; and Hellenistic Jews, 46-48, 49 (compacibility with Jewish practice)~ in fluenced br rheto rical cducacion, 421-423n6~ j udaistn as a type of, }88n4; 1\Jiarcion noc particularly f.tmiliar \~ith, 399tm; tl.·losl"S as philosopher, 48; and pagan monotheism, 65; pagan NL-oplatonism in Milan, 14, IJt, 335; relation between kno\1.:ing che good and choosing it, 415nt8; in tension with rradi· cionaJ narratives, 4-J; theology a subset o f, 79; of cimc, 1cYJ (Omfrssio~ts tO); and rraditjonal piety toward lower gods, 45; unchanging h igh god o f, 43

or

50 1

resurn~cti on: apoc.tlyptic framework

o f. 29-31,71 (Justin), 139; bodily but not flesh ly ( t>a ul), 53, t41 (Augustine), 4151117; communaJ. 30, 64, 254; did not signal immi· nent End time, !S t~ lleshly (Justin), 70, 140, 163, 4.?. 332. 415n16; ofJesus, 29, 30, } t (as h.trbinger of coming Kingdom), 43; Manichaean criticisms of. uj-II..J, I39-140,IjO, 214; .tnd OT prophcqr, 22j- ll6 (Terrullian), 279 (Augustine), J20; and promise of rtern.tllifc, 2.72; quin te~ntiaJJy jewish idea, xiii; and second coming, }6, 63-64 (J>aul), 4 10n9 (Nonh Afric.t); symbolized by Christ's ci rcumcision, lj0-1j4; symboliud in s.acramcnts, 246, 288, }00; t r-ue, spirintal meani ng of Law n...·cal~.-'<1 only after, lj6 (Origen) rhetoric and the gods, tt, 13, q ; ..Jews" as rflrtorica l category o f i ntra· Christian polemic, 73-78, 93-94, u2- 120,2t3 - 2J..J (Faustus• Capitula), 29 1- 198 {Jerome), 314-323 (Augus· rine against Faustus); and polcmi· cal const ruction of che 'Other,' 15 (Je\\·S of p.tgans), 26 (Grttks and Romans of ethnic minorities), 394mu0- 11; and rcchniques of argumentation, 42, 119-122; and textual inrcrpn::tation, xiv, 4lln5 !tome: adopts .tnd adapts Hellenistic cuicure, 5, 14 (ruler cul ts), 41 (l' ducarion); all conquered people buc Jews assume }{oman religious pr.tcciccs, t6, 27r {Augustine): Augustine goes to, tOj, ll.l, t34, 408n1; and Bar Kokhba rt'\o'Oit, 25, 4 113, 2jt; and ceremony of l!tYJcatio, 389nS; diwrted Temple ca.x co, 87; '"fall" of i n 410 C. E., 303, 33t.. 344; fa.U stimulates .apocalyptic fears, ,)6.2.; and ft rsr jude-an revoir, lj, 82, u3, 219, 262, 365; founded by fratricide, 345; and Herod the Gre.u, t9; home co Valentin us, Marcion and Justin in m id·first centur y, 65; imperial culc, 3901112; and Jero me, 193; jC\\~sh community i n, l.J, 307 (probably largest \'\'estern scnlc· ment), 308, 405nt8; Ma nichacan

501 •

Subjats

Rome (contimu'tl) communiry in, 106-107; named in gospels, 322; no longer true capital by lace fo urch century, 123; occasion.tlly expelled foreigners, 394nJO; pagan Christian com· munity in, 60-6J, 259 (Paul), 396n1r. and fMX tieDrum, 89; and Pdagius, 334~ and ptrsecution of pagan Christians, 88-89; and post-Constancinian theolog)'. 343; primacy o f Rome's bishop, 41..Jnlj (C)'Prian); uniwrsalizL-d citizen· ship in 2t2 C. E., 87; victories against J ud~a divinely pun i ti ~'C, 276 (rontm ltulac-o-s tradition); victories agajnst Judea providenciaJ, 276 (Augustine), }4l synagogue: attraction o f Gentiles to, xvii; and birk~t h.Hninm~t 40jn20; in Cacsarea, 25; Christian appro· priacion or d~struct:ion of, 357, }60-361, 434n6, 435n8; a.s com· munity centers, 2t~ as context for Jesus' m ission, too; as contut for Paul's mission, So, 400-40101; d..-dicated to pagan rulers, 20, 393n5; and early Christian m issions, xx, 23, 31-39, So (tv1ark), 91-92 (Matthew), 396n20 (Acts), 400-40uu; gentile Chrisri:m reactions to, n; and Gentiles' "judaizing,"' 21- 23, 4, 3t-3..J, 94-95 (Christians), 96 (pagrut..;), 97 (both), 99-100,312, j87n9, 405019 (Elvira), .J06n12.~ 408n26~ inscrip· tions from Bosporus, 19, 392-393n4: as jesus' mother, tOt, 263; a.ttd Jewish-Christian SL'Ct.arianism, 292-293: on Minorca, 358-}61, 4350117 and 8~ pagan benefactions to, 21, 96, 393n6 (Aphrodisias); pagan critiques of. 220~ places o f asylum, 11; proximit)' ro pagan cult ofthe high god, 396-397n1; in Sardis, X\'ii, 403m0; and Temple imager)', 423ntO; thriving in latl' .tntiquity, 88, ..fO}nto; typified by Cain, 265; various ancient terms fo r, 10-21; wide· spread, 21, 87~ .as "wift.'" ofJewish god, 113 (Faustus)

Templc (jerusaJcm): apocalyptic cxpcct.acions o f, 29, 32; appropria· cion ofTemplc imager)' in Chris· cian mosaics, 413m0; and Bar Kokhb.t rL•volt, 84; and Caligula, 20; and e<mtmludarM traditions, !4. H6, 230,233 (Faustus), 282 (punishmmt for dcach ofJesus), 306, 315, 330, 402n5 (dcstruc· cion begins "seco nd" exile}, 4l4t11t; curtain of..!68; di'Stro)\':d by Habylon in 586 H. C. E.:., t6; deslroycd by Rome in 70 C. E., .wi, 85, jl2, 365, 402117. and diaspora Jews, 86-87, 383 (Philo); donations to, 2.4 86, 87, 229, 392n3, 394n8; God's and Elcphancinj, 4l}ntO~ gospds depict Jesus in, tOO, 256-58 (Augustine), 300; gospds "pr<'dict" destruction of, 82j gospels wrirten afrcr d estruction of, 32, 82; and Herod, 19, 14; historical J"aul's allegiance to Temple, 389n5; inferior (O heawnlr Cl'tnple,t59 (Ep. to t he Hebrews}; and Julian, 2}J; and lcontopolis, 402n8, 423ntO; .and MaccabL"CS, 8, 19; pagan presence in, 23, 32 (apocalyptic); J'aul n'Orships in i<'mplc,.!99 (Acts); prc..s..-ncc in, 6 (Jesus), 8 (Paul); rabbinic response to d estruction of, 423n9; repudiated b)' later Christians, 73; and sacrificial c ult, 8, 229, 233 (Fausrusas bulwark ag.ainst idol·worship}, 85 Uustin) temples (pag.tn}: by Christians, 274, 324,340, 394n9; and civic pride, 45; descruction o f by jen-s,25; gods• presence in, 6; and emperor cult, 14. £9 (Herod), 390n11, 392n4 (Herod); Jewish inscriptions in, 18 (Moschos), 19, 393n4; as pilgrim· age sites, 5; on Samos, 397n4; and synagogues, 2 1,229 Tcrtullian: blames JL'WS for Christian herCS)', Hj; blaml'S Jews for pagan anti·Christian pcrs«utions, 90, 93; calling gen1il(' Christian co mpetitor "Jew," 23; ag.ainst Christian judaizing. 94; agajnst Christian participation in pag.m civic lire, 390ntt: contrtt Jutlaeos arguments appropr-i.ttL'Ci by

SubJt'Cis • 50.4

raustus, 247, 305; rontra Mar· citJik'm~ 14-US, 232; as controw rsialist, HJ-224, 423nS (rherori· cal a,gt.~n); disasters stimulate anti-Chr istian persecutions, 89; L-ffi()(s Jewish anti-Christian calumnies, }86n7, 405n10; inspimrion to C}'prian, 423n7; and jev.·ish apocalyptic univcr· saJisc traditions, 396m9~ .1ga.inst· Jewish blood offerings, 227- 230~ and Jev.·ish missionary compcti· cion, j86n4; and N. African je\\~sh population, 429nu; against pag.1n judai.zing, 96, 405n2l; and l's 59:t2, }23; source for rcconstnlct· ing Marcion 's teachings, 399m3; Temple dcstrored by Rome to avenge death ofJesus, 84~ usrs Justin's anci·Jewish arguments, 425n3~ and rhe virgin birth, 4281lj time: and biblicaJ inccrpretarion, 235, 2.41- 47, 158 (historic.tl Jesus), 339--340, jll (Orig.en), 416n5; as co nsequence of Adam's faJI, 203-105; and flesh ly bodies, 337; fou r stage model. 164-166, 195; langu.tg.c and interpret.1tion a consequence of full into time, 190-191, 4lml~ narratiw quaJity o f ti mc, lOj -209~ and six stages of historr, 135. t6+ as a theological c.ut'gory fo r Augtlstinc, t35~ •,:aluing o f history as dimension of rcvdation, tj6-137, 184-188, 191-19}, 202 T}'conius: anti-apocalrptic chinking, 342; Book ofRJtlt•r 3 and J'aulinc intcrpri'tation, t6t- t62; both Jsrad .tnd the Church had always been morally «mixed,. bodies, 162, 344, 356; and Chrisn·an ·teac1Ji11g, 196; di\oine forl'knowiL"
(av.:kwardness o f Augustine's drpl•ndence on)~ entire Bible.' , NT and OT, constinm:s «the Law," ljS, t60, 235; hdpcd v.:ith Augustine's carly commenc.arics on Paul, 163, t90, 4171'7~ historic.1l identitr of Jsrnd and of the church, r60-161; ideas on God's foreknowl~.--d.ge offairh used by Augustine, t66, 168, 175; j cwish Law as book-slave (Galatians 3:.24), 41914; and latin rhetoric, 419n 1 ~ originaJity, 158-J60 , 4t6n4; process of saJv>1tion both com· m unal (linear) and individual (interior}, 164, 243 typology: Augustine agains-t F:mstus, 240, 264; eschewed fo r Cain in City ofGtJd, 346; and figu re of Cain, 345: in Galatians, 60; genreof aJIC.'gory, 59; interpretive meaning o utside the frame of the o riginaJ senjng, 59; jewish blood sacrificrs and orchodox doctrine. 249; and Melito o f Sardis, 83, 416n5~ prophetic, thus histo rical, 241~ radicaJ updating o f significant story, 60~ and 1)'coniu..~ , 160-163 (no im~d i ous comparison bct\\'i.'Cn OT lupas and NT her meneutic kL-y)

VaJencinus: doctrinal similarities with Justin and with Marcion, 68-69 (high god of Hellenistic paidcia), u9 (creator god a lower god); and esoteric 1\':\'darion, u 6; and follower Pto lemy, 3991111; god of Genesis hostile to high god and to Christ, 120 ; and Nag Hammadi, 399m2; p ro minent SL'Cond-ccntury Christian theologian , 65; and "rhetorical Jews... 12r, sophistication and o riginality of, 66; spiritual redemption, 70, 414nl4

ALso BY PAULA FREDRIKSEN

From jesus to Christ The Origins of the New Testament Images of Christ, Second Edition How did Jesus of Nal'!reth become the Christ of the Christian tradition? And why did the earl y C hrist ian commlLnitics d evelop different th eological imogcs of Jesus? In th is exciting book. Puuln Fredriksen answers these q uc)Lions by placing th e various cn i'IOI1icnl images of Jesus within their historical context-the Hellenistic and Judaic cultures from which the Chrbtian communities grew. Carefully examining the New Testamem texts, she provides fascinating insights into such issue-s as the social and religious problems fucing early Chri~~otian communities, the content o f Jesus' minis1ry, and the circumstances o f his crucifixion. "This is a fin.t · rntc work of a fi rst-rate historian." - James 1), 'labor, journal of Religion " BriUi,mt and enjoyable.. .. Mogisterial." -GCt.a Vermes. Times Lirerary Supplcuumt "Brilliant and lucidly written, full of o riginal and fJscinating insights." - Reginald H. fuller, }oumnl of tire American Acmlcm)' of R£ligio11 "Fredriksen confronts her documents-principal ly the writings of the New Testament- the images of Jesus in temlS of the strategies and purposes of the writers Paul, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John." - ·1homas D'Evf."lyn, Clrr;stian Scitmce A4ouitot

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