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Anger matters: politics and theology in the fourth century CE

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Anger matters: politics and theology in the fourth century CE

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Content ANGER MATTERS: POLITICS AND THEOLOGY IN THE FOURTH CENTURY CE by Kristina Ann Meinking A Dissertation Presented to the FACULTY OF THE USC GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY (CLASSICS) December 2010 Copyright 2010 Kristina Ann Meinking Acknowledgements It is a pleasure to thank those individuals whose expertise, guidance, and patience have been formative to this dissertation. As committee chair, Thomas Habinek has been a tireless reader and critic of argument; his insights and suggestions have both challenged and motivated me throughout the course of the project. Clifford Ando has always inspired me to re-examine my presumptions and has exerted a particular influence on this project from its inception. I am also grateful to Kevin van Bladel for his attention to detail and insistence on specificity as well as to Jason Glenn for his open ear and for reminding me of the importance of asking questions. My thanks are also due to Daniel Richter and Ann Marie Yasin for their advice and enthusiasm for the project in its earliest stages. The effect that each of these individuals has had on me personally and intellectually, and on the dissertation, is greater than they might think. Grants from the U.S.C. Center for Religion and Civic Culture and the Graduate School provided financial support for the completion of the project. I would be remiss not to thank the U.S.C. Library staff and especially the departments of Interlibrary Loan and Document Delivery, whose services allowed me to continue the final stages of research despite being away from campus. Finally, it is with my deepest appreciation that I thank my family and especially my husband, Neil, for their unwavering support and encouragement in the best times and in the worst, from the very beginning to the very end. ii Table of Contents Acknowledgements ii Abstract iv Introduction 1 1. The ‘Christian Cicero’: De ira Dei and De Natura Deorum 24 2. The Origin of Anger: Lactantius and the Old Testament Scriptures 72 3. Ratio and Rhetoric: Lactantius’ Mode of Argument 116 4. Anger and the Apologists: Lactantius in his Christian Context 150 5. Anger and Adjudication: The Political Relevance of De ira Dei 188 Epilogue 225 Bibliography 233 iii Abstract In this dissertation I examine the De ira Dei of Lactantius from the perspectives of classical philosophy and rhetorical theory, Christian theology, and the socio-historic debates specific to the fourth century CE. Lactantius argues that the Christian God is moved by anger, a claim which he himself acknowledges as antithetical to the traditional philosophical and theological positions that viewed the supreme god as impassible. To date, De ira Dei has remained a misunderstood and undervalued resource in the study of the history of religion in Late Antiquity. My primary aim is to demonstrate the ways in which the text and its author were occupied with philosophical and theological questions of central importance to the development of Christian doctrine. I argue that Lactantius sought to shape the Christian (and) imperial present through his contribution to these debates. This document, indicative of the transitions and transformations particular to the early fourth century CE, presents an alternative perspective to the controversies of the period. The questions raised in and by the text prompt a reevaluation of our conceptions both of Christian beliefs about the emotions of God and, moreover, of the consequences of these beliefs. My approach to the text, grounded in philosophy, theology, and history, seeks to contribute to the fields of Classics and Religion, as well as to those of intellectual history and Latin apologetic more broadly, a reappraisal of a text hitherto confined to the narrower purview of Patristics. iv Introduction Does the Christian God get angry? Lucius Caecilius Firmianus Lactantius was among those Christian intellectuals who responded in the affirmative. Born in North Africa c.250CE, Lactantius was well educated in the art of rhetoric, converted to Christianity, was appointed head of rhetoric in Nicomedia by Diocletian in 297, and served as tutor to Constantine’s son Crispus, in Trier, from 317 until Crispus’ execution in 326. 1 With the exception of a few other details, the sentence above includes nearly all of the information that we have about Lactantius’ life. Jerome adds to our sketch the fact that Lactantius was taught by Arnobius, another North African and later convert to the Christian faith; Jerome also preserves the titles of Lactantius’ works, both those that have survived and those that have not. 2 Lactantius himself reveals biographical details only infrequently, mentioning at 1 1 It is unclear whether Lactantius’ name was Caelius or Caecilius; both are attested in the MSS. It has been suggested that Lactantius was originally from Cirta, Numidia, in part because of the survival of an inscription that mentions a certain L. Caecilius Firmianus. For the basic chronology of Lactantius’ life, see Timothy Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius. Harvard University Press 1981, 11-145 and 291-292. We hear nothing about Lactantius after Crispus’ assassination on Constantine’s order in 317. Despite their own brief introduction to Lactantius, Bowen and Garnsey are correct to note that there exists no satisfactory introduction to the apologist and his life in English, Lactantius: Divine Institutes. Translated Texts for Historians 40. Liverpool University Press, 2003, 1 n.1. For a comprehensive bibliography on Lactantius see Jackson Bryce’s ‘Bibliography of Lactantius’ located at http://apps.carleton.edu/curricular/clas/lactantiusbiblio/ (last accessed 24 May 2010). 2 De Viris Illustribus 80, quoted here in full: Firmianus, qui et Lactantius, Arnobii discipulus, sub Diocletiano principe accitus cum Flavio Grammatico, cuius de Medicinalibus versu compositi exstant libri, Nicomediae rhetoricam docuit, et penuria discipulorum, ob Graecam videlicet civitatem, ad scribendum se contulit. Habemus eius Symposium, quod adolescentulus scripsit; ὁδοιπορικὸν de Africa usque Nicomediam, hexametris scriptum versibus, et alium librum, qui inscribitur Grammaticus, et pulcherrimum de ira Dei, et Institutionum divinarum adversum gentes libros septem, et ἐπιτομὴν eiusdem operis in libro uno acephalo, et ad Asclepiadem libros duos, de persecutione librum unum, ad Probum Epistolarum libros quatuor, ad Severum Epistolarum libros duos; ad Demetrianum, auditorem suum. Epistolarum libros duos; ad eumdem de Opificio Dei, vel formatione hominis, librum unum. Hic extrema senectute magister Caesaris Crispi, filii Constantini, in Gallia fuit, qui postea a patre interfectus est. For a thorough study of Arnobius in his North African context, pagan and Christian, see Michael Simmons, Arnobius of Sicca: Religious Conflict and Competition in the Age of Diocletian. Oxford University Press, 1995. one point his time at the imperial court in Nicomedia and at another that he thought of himself first and foremost as a teacher. 3 Parallels and comparisons can help us to contextualize this slim biographical account. That Lactantius was appointed to such a high post by Diocletian indicates that he was well known and well respected for his craft. In order to have attracted the attention of the emperor, Lactantius likely would have been one of the foremost rhetors of Carthage, the civic, intellectual, and provincial capital of North Africa. As would have been common for someone so well connected, Lactantius likely had many pupils who went on to seek administrative and juridical careers. Here the evidence we have from Libanius of Antioch , about a half century later, can help us reconstruct some of the tasks required of someone in that position. Libanius’ epistolary correspondence, for example, depicts a network of patronage in which the teacher supported his former pupils by writing letters and soliciting favors in order to help the student acquire a desirable position. 4 While Lactantius neither fashioned himself as a jurist or as an advocate nor pursued a public career in the law, he would have been familiar with those who were and with the language of the profession. While he identified himself first as a professor, Lactantius was also a prolific author. He wrote a poem, in hexameters, that chronicled his journey from North Africa to 2 3 On teaching, see Divinae Institutiones (hereafter DI) 3.13.12: Equidem tametsi operam dederim, ut quantulamcumque discendi assequerer facultatem propter studium docendi, tamen eloquens nunquam fui; quippe qui forum ne attigerim quidem: sed necesse est, ipsa me faciat causae bonitas eloquentem; ad quam diserte copioseque defendendam scientia divinitatis, et ipsa veritas sufficit. For his mention of Nicomedia see DI 5.2.2: Ego cum in Bithynia oratorias litteras accitus docerem, contigissetque ut eodem tempore Dei templum everteretur... 4 See Bowen and Garnsey 2003 for the suggestion of this parallel: ‘Lactantius may perhaps be seen as an African equivalent of Libanius of Antioch, peppering provincial governors with letters of recommendation for pupils seeking a job on their staff, typically as assessors in their courts. We have Libanous’ correspondence but not Lactantius’, so this is guesswork, but reasonable guesswork nonetheless’ (2); see further on Libanius as the head of a school see Rafaella Cribiore, The School of Libanius in Late Antique Antioch. Princeton University Press, 2007 and especially 83-110 for the network of pupils and professors of which he was a part. Nicomedia; unfortunately it has not survived. 5 We do not know whether his conversion to Christianity took place before or after this journey, but his withdrawal from the court at Nicomedia in 303 suggests that he was a Christian at least by this point. 6 Another poem, De Ave Phoenice, is undatable; this text fashions the phoenix as a symbol of the Christian who has found salvation. 7 He was not in Nicomedia long before the outbreak of the Diocletianic persecution in 303 and it is difficult to establish Lactantius’ whereabouts during the years 303-317. 8 As Timothy Barnes has shown, one can read the narratives as indicating a variety of possibilities: that Lactantius remained in Nicomedia (in hiding of some sort), was there for Diocletian’s abdication in 305, there when the Edict of Toleration was promulgated in 311, and likewise there when Licinius published his letter legalizing Christianity in 313. At the same time, one could also read the sources as suggesting that he was in Gaul in 310, Serdica in 311, possibly in 313 as well, or perhaps with Constantine in Italy in 312. If we follow Barnes’ chronology, Lactantius left Bithynia not long after 305 and might have returned in 311. But it is too difficult to tell with any certainty. What we can know with greater confidence is that Constantine appointed Lactantius as tutor to his son Crispus in 3 5 De Viris Illustribus 80 (quoted at n.2 above). In addition to this, the other lost works of Lactantius include a Grammarian, two books to Asclepiades, and a eight books of letters, including two to Severus, two to Demetrianus, a student, and four to Probus. Three very short fragments attributed to Lactantius also survive: one is about the appropriateness of the emotions; another about the pentameter and tetrameter; and the third about the reason why the Galatians are white. 6 See DI 5.4 for Lactantius’ recounting of the discussions in which he participated while in Nicomedia. His identification of a jurist and a philosopher (see below page 4) as the opponents in this work is clear in its representation of Lactantius as a Christian at this time. 7 For a survey of the use of the image of the phoenix across religious traditions, see Mary F. McDonald, ‘Phoenix Redivivus,’ Phoenix 14.4 (1960), 187-206. (This is the same individual who translated the poem, along with De ira Dei and De opificio Dei for the Fathers of the Church series, Volume 54). For an attempt to link the poem to Lactantius’ contemporary context see Jackson Bryce, ‘Lactantius’ De Ave Phoenice and the religious policy of Constantine the Great.’ Studia Patristica 19 (1989) 13-19. 8 The dating and the material in this paragraph closely follows Timothy Barnes, ‘Lactantius and Constantine’ JRS 63 (1973) 29-46. 317, when both were located in Trier. Jerome attests that Lactantius in the meanwhile had taken up writing due to a lack of students until rescued by Constantine; whether or not this was wholly the case cannot be proved. 9 A brief look at Lactantius’ other works and a summary of his arguments will help to contextualize our discussion of De ira Dei. It is likely that Lactantius began work on his most substantial and best-known work, the Divinae Institutiones, while in Nicomedia in 303. 10 Evidence for this view primarily comes from Lactantius’ own statement about the impetus for the work in the fifth book: he identifies his opponents as a philosopher and a judge with whom he conversed while at the imperial court. The former wanted to ‘undermine the logic of the faith’ and the latter ‘simply did not know what he was saying, never mind what he was attacking.’ 11 In response to their criticisms, which included the deplorable quality of the scriptures, its inherent contradictions, and that Christ was merely a miracle worker (and not a very good one at that), Lactantius undertook this treatise ‘to wipe out in one single attack all 4 9 De Viris Illustribus 80. 10 For the Latin see Samuel Brandt and G. Laubmann, L. Caeli Firmiani Lactanti Opera Omnia (CSEL 19 [DI] and 27 [all other works]). Prague, Vienna, and Leipzig, 1890-93. The most recent English translation, the one upon which I have drawn throughout this study is that of Bowen and Garnsey, op. cit. n.1. For the dating of the Divinae Institutiones see Elizabeth Digeser, ‘Lactantius and Constantine’s Letter to Arles: Dating the Divine Institutes,’ Journal of Early Christian Studies 2.1 (1994), 33-52 with bibliography as well as Bowen and Garnsey’s introductory chapter. 11 DI 5.2.8, trans Bowen and Garnsey 2003: Ubi autem religionis eius, contra quam perorabat, infirmare voluit rationem, ineptus, vanus, ridiculus apparuit; quia gravis ille consultor utilitatis alienae, non modo quid oppugnaret, sed etiam quid loqueretur nesciebat. Lactantius’ discussion of these two runs from 5.2.1-5.4.1. The judge has been identified as Sossianus Hierocles, the governor of Bithynia in 303 (see Timothy Barnes, ‘Emperors, Panegyrics, Prefects, Provinces and Palaces (284-317)’ JRS 9 (1976) 532-552. There have been multiple attempts to identify the philosopher, who remains unnamed, as Porphyry based on his known distaste for Christianity, but it seems to me that this is pushing the text too far. For two voices in the debate see Elizabeth Digeser, The Making of a Christian Empire: Lactantius and Rome. Cornell University Press, 2000 with her ‘Lactantius, Porphyry, and the Debate over Religious Toleration,’ JRS 88, 129-149 and in contrast Barnes 1976 and 1981, 164-167, 174-178. those people everywhere who are attacking justice or who have done so.’ 12 The work is divided into seven books. He begins by assailing the pagan deities and those who worship them (Books 1 and 2), claiming that the fact that there are many, created gods makes them false and then chronicling how humankind came to worship such images. In the second pair of books, Lactantius crafts arguments against the philosophers while building up the case for Christianity. Here the false wisdom that abounds in philosophy (Book 3) is appropriated by Lactantius to become the true wisdom of the Christian faith (Book 4). The fifth book deals with justice and is the centerpiece of the work. In the sixth book Lactantius focuses on Christian life and behavior; this book is the most prescriptive. Finally, Book 7 moves into the more theological realm of eschatology and the life hereafter. 13 Changes and additions to the Divinae Institutiones, which included the appending of two invocations to Constantine, occupied Lactantius after 310. 14 Prior to this, and probably around 303, Lactantius also wrote De Opificio Dei, a shorter treatise addressed to his former pupil, Demetrianus. 15 Here Lactantius maintained that the evidence of man’s body and soul prove that he is the creation of God. Although the text is not completely devoid of theological material, it is more epideictic than combative; in it we find precursors of the kinds of ideas later expressed and advanced in his other works. De Mortibus Persecutorum belongs to Lactantius’ later treatises and has been dated to c.313-315. In this text he 5 12 DI 5.4.1: suscepi hoc munus, ut omnibus ingenii mei viribus accusatores iustitiae refutarem: non ut contra hos scriberem, qui paucis verbis obteri poterant; sed ut omnes, qui ubique idem operis efficiunt, aut effecerunt, uno semel impetu profligarem. 13 The Latin titles of the book are clear about their contents: (1) De Falsa Religione; (2) De Origine Erroris; (3) De Falsa Sapientia; (4) De Vera Sapientiae et Religione; (5) De Iustitia; (6) De Vero Cultu; (7) De Beata Vita. 14 The invocations are found at DI 1.1.13-16 and 7.26.10a, although there exist other mentions of the emperor at 2.1.2, 3.1.1, 4.1.1., 5.1.1, and 6.3.1. 15 Presumably this is the same Demetrianus to whom he addressed the two books of letters. recounts the lives and deaths of those emperors who persecuted Christians, beginning with Nero and ending with Maxentius. An Epitome to the Divinae Institutiones, written after 320, is the latest text and as the title implies it gives a summary, although not an entirely consistent one, of the longer work. 16 De ira Dei falls chronologically between De Mortibus Persecutorum and the Epitome. The text was written after 313 and likely in 316. 17 Relatively early in the Divinae Institutiones, Lactantius mentions the necessity of a separate tractate in which to discuss the question of divine wrath; here the topic is linked to his refutation of the philosophical conceptions of a supreme divine being. 18 The treatise itself is addressed to a certain Donatus and was composed so that he might refute all of those who claim that God does not get angry. 19 From the outset, Lactantius identifies the Stoics and Epicureans, as well as individual philosophers, as his opponents in this debate. Against these philosophers, Lactantius maintains that the Christian God does in fact get angry and that this anger is employed for the correction of faults together with the reward of the pious and the punishment of the 6 16 Lactantius himself bemoans the difficulty of condensing seven books worth of material into a brief treatise Epitome 1); the emphasis in the Epitome seems to be weighted more towards the proof of the existence of only one God, testimony to that end, and an attack on the pagan gods. 17 For a concise discussion of the issues involved in dating the text, see Christiane Ingremeau, Lactance: La Colère de Dieu. Introduction, Texte Critique, Traduction, Commentaire et Index. Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1982, 25-36. Barnes 1973, Ingremeau, and others agree that De ira Dei followed De Mortibus Persecutorum. 18 DI 2.17.3-5, see below Chapter 4 pages 175-179. 19 Lactantius is explicit about the fact that he is providing Donatus ammunition with which to defeat the arguments of those who deny that God has emotions at their own peril at De ira Dei 22.1-2: Haec habuit qquae de ira dicerem, Donate carissime, ut scires quemadmodum refelleres eos qui deum faciunt inmobilem. Restat ut more Ciceronis utamur epilogo ad perorandum. Sicut ille in Tusculanis de morte disserens fecit, ita nos in hoc opere testimonia divina quibus credi possit adhibere debemus, ut illorum persuasionem revincamus qui sine ira deum esse credentes dissolvunt omnem religionem; sine qua, ut ostendimus, aut inmanitate belvis aut stultitia pecudibus adaequamur; in sola enim religione, id est in dei summi notione, sapientia est. The identification of any specific Donatus as the recipient, while tempting, is impossible. At a most basic level we can say that it was one of the three most popular names among North Africans of the period and that this is likely the same Donatus to whom De Mortibus Persecutorum is addressed. impious, both of which are crucial to the institution of justice. Although Lactantius makes a distinction between just and unjust anger, he never concedes his tenet that the anger of God should be literally interpreted; it is an emotion, and one that is fitting and necessary for the supreme deity. It is not so much the underlying claim that speaks to the singularity of this text (other Christians thought God’s wrath to be a valid idea) but rather how Lactantius defends it and to what ends. The questions driving the current study are why Lactantius wrote this text, and why he did so at this specific historical moment. De ira Dei has received the least amount of attention in scholarship on Lactantius. To take the text itself, in addition to the English translation that forms part of the Fathers of the Church series, the most recent translation to have been undertaken was done so in 1982, in French, and with a thorough commentary. 20 In this respect, the text is somewhat representative of studies of Lactantius more generally: the bulk of the scholarship is in French, followed by Italian and German. This trend has begun to change in the past two decades, as newer translations of the Divinae Institutiones have been produced and historians have brought Lactantius’ arguments to bear on discussions of the fourth century. 21 Aside from these advances, however, Lactantius and his works have generally been used as a means to a greater end and interest in the works themselves has been relegated to three main areas: Quellenforschung; philosophy and religion in the third and fourth centuries; and the history of the persecutions with a particular focus on Constantinian studies. A brief consideration of 7 20 These translations include McDonald 1992, op cit n.7 and Ingremeau 1982, op cit n.17. Both use the text edited by Brandt, supra n.x (Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum 27.1), 1893, although Ingremeau makes some modifications (see her discussion of these at 63-81). Another English translation can be found in William Fletcher, The Works of Lactantius. Anti-Nicene Christian Library Volume 22. Edinburgh, 1871; a German translation with discussion exists in Heinrich Kraft and Antonie Wlosok, Vom Zorne Gottes, Darmstadt 1957, 1-79. Ingremeau notes the promise of an Italian translation by Ubaldo Pizzani (86) but this seems never to have materialized. 21 See discussion below, pages 14-15. each of these will help to illustrate the ways in which this project is meant both to contribute to and to advance upon previous work on Lactantius. Like many of his Christian counterparts, Lactantius has often been used as a gateway to the recovery of classical authors. His training in rhetoric make his writings especially useful to such an endeavor; in Lactantius’ corpus one finds preserved numerous references to, paraphrases and quotations of not only the Roman orators, especially Cicero, but also the poets, chiefly Vergil. In De ira Dei alone, Lactantius includes two excerpts of ancient texts that would have been lost otherwise. The first is the opening to Seneca’s treatise De ira; the second consists of fragments from the last book of Cicero’s De Natura Deorum. 22 Of all of the ancient authors upon whom Lactantius draws in his texts, Cicero is the one who appears to have exerted the strongest influence. Lactantius’ dependence on Cicero is not just an archaeology of Ciceronian texts, however, there is also a heavy stylistic dependence on the classical Roman orator. Jerome was among the first to note the imitative eloquence of Lactantius’ prose: in one epistle he describes Lactantius’ style quasi flumen eloquentiae Tullianae, in the Chronicon he calls hims vir omnium suo tempore eloquentissimus. 23 Pico de la Mirandola (1463-1494) coined the phrase that has been most often quoted with regard to Lactantius: he was the Cicero Christianus. 24 8 22 Seneca De ira 1.1.3 and Lactantius De ira Dei 5.3; Cicero De Natura Deorum 3.79 and 3.89 at De ira Dei 16.9 and 9.7, respectively. Brandt 1890, in his introduction to Lactantius in many ways pioneered the scholarly interest in seeking remains of classical antiquity in this Christian author. 23 Epistle 58.10; Chronicon AD 317. 24 De studio divinae atque humanae philosophiae 7. Mirandola’s interest in Lactantius is representative of a wider movement among Renaissance humanists. The manuscript tradition for De ira Dei also attests to Lactantius’ post-15th century popularity: in addition to the two most complete manuscripts for the text, Bononiensis 701 (dating to the second half of the fifth century) and Parisinus Puteanus 1662 (dating to the end of the ninth), only five of the other manuscripts that preserve the treatise are earlier than the fifteenth century. After 1500, the text can be found, in varying degrees of completeness, in forty-one other manuscripts. This designation and others like it spurred two related scholarly efforts. The first was concerned with tracking down such classical references and linking them to the original texts (either supplementing existing knowledge or, as in the cases of Seneca and Cicero above, providing otherwise lost excerpts). In addition to the classical exempla that were extracted from the text, investigators found that Lactantius made frequent use of oracles and Hermetic texts, but little use of Biblical scriptures. 25 We shall discuss some of the implications of this facet of Lactantius’ methods in two related contexts in the second and fourth chapters; for now it will suffice to note that the next logical step following the identification of Lactantius’ sources was the examination of why and how they were used. This second area of scholarship has developed more slowly than the first and has placed Lactantius himself at the whim of scholarly subjectivity. Several scholars of the twentieth century were more inclined to follow Jerome’s assessment that, despite his eloquence, Lactantius was more adept at destroying paganism than asserting Christian doctrine. 26 By supporting this view, researchers like Pichon and Loi placed the focus on Lactantius’ 9 25 Lactantius’ use of oracles has received some attention in studies of the broader Patristic incorporation of them. See for example Stefan Freund, ‘Christian Use and Valuation of Theological Oracles: The Case of Lactantius' Divine Institutes,’ VC 60 (2006), 269-284 and Bard Thompson, ‘Patristic Use of the Sybilline Oracles,’ Review of Religion 16 (1951-1952), 115-136. On Lactantius and the Bible, see primarily Pierre Monat, Lactance et la Bible. Une propeeutique latine a la lecture de la Bible dans l'Occident constantinien. Paris, Études Augustiniennes, 1982. 26 Epistle 58.10: utinam tam nostra adfirmare potuisset quam facile aliena destruxit. Bowen and Garnsey are likely correct to cast suspicion on Jerome’s assessment here. They note that it occurs in the same letter in which Jerome so pleasingly praised Lactantius, that it appears in a discussion of Christian writers who wrote in Latin, and that the letter itself was written to Paulinus of Nola at a time in which Jerome and Augustine were vying for Paulinus’ approval. (Bowen and Garnsey 2003, 4-5, where they also cite Jean Doignon, ‘“Nos bons hommes de foi:” Cyprien, Lactance, Victorin, Optat, Hilaire (de docr. Christ. 2.40.61),’ Latomus 22 (1963) 795-805, for the theory that Augustine, when he wrote De Doctrina Christiana, was responding to Jerome by praising the very apologists and theologians whom the latter criticized.) preservation of the sources and have assessed his handling of them as derivative. 27 This trend continued in both French and English scholarship, in studies that sought both literary and historical sources, and that aimed to show that, at best, Lactantius provided a means by which to access classical learning. 28 At worst, one argument ran that Lactantius was worth nothing more than his sources and, in perhaps the harshest assessment to date, likely had not read those very sources in the first place. These were the claims of and assumptions behind Ogilvie’s 1978 monograph, wherein he also argued that Lactantius knew no Greek whatsoever and had read little more than Cicero and Vergil. 29 One of the biggest problems with this assertion, however, is that Ogilvie includes little analysis of Lactantius’ texts themselves, and further that even if there existed some truth to his claims, they were misrepresented by the degree to which Ogilvie criticized Lactantius. If one is to accuse Lactantius of merely including and repeating the words of those who came before him, it is simply incorrect to fault him alone - to whatever extent one can characterize his work as mediocre in this respect, one has to look also to Lactantius’ peers for points of contrast and comparison. Such an effort indicates that he 10 27 René Pichon, Lactance: étude sur le mouvement philosophique et religieux sous le règne de Constantin. Paris, 1902 and Vincenzo Loi, Lattanzio nella storia del linguaggio e del pensiero teologico pre-niceno. Zürich, 1970. An earlier article by Loi focuses on Lactantius’ use of Roman ethical literature as source material, ‘I valori etici e politici della romanità negli scritte di Lattanzio,’ Salesianum 27 (1965) 65-132. See also James Stevenson, ‘Aspects of the relations between Lactantius and the classics,’ Studia Patrististica 4 (1957), 497-503. 28 On this theme see for example Pierre de Labriolle, Histoire de la littérature latine chrétienne. Paris: Societe d’Edition ‘Les Belles Lettres,’ 1920; Harold Hagendahl, Latin Fathers and the Classics. A Study in the Apologists, Jerome, and Other Christian Writers. Studia Graeca et Latina Gothoburgensia, VI, 1958. 29 Robert M. Ogilvie, The Library of Lactantius. Oxford University Press, 1978. was not unique in his use and knowledge of classical Greek and Latin matieral. 30 To this end, the work of Bryce, published just over a decade after Ogilvie’s, is indicative of the kind of analysis that helps us to better understand not only Lactantius’ use of classical sources but also his purpose in using them. Cicero and Vergil are again shown to be the most influential, but Bryce sees Lactantius’ involvement with these authors as fundamental to his apologetic agenda. 31 The recovery of classical sources in Lactantius’ corpus, however, also contributed to an interest in the relationship between philosophy and religion in the third and fourth centuries. Again, we see two main branches of such inquiry. There exists on the one side a fair amount of literature, although mostly relegated to articles and conference proceedings, that considers the use and meaning of specific words in Lactantius. The majority of this work has been carried out in French, has considered both morphology and meaning, and has been focused on philosophical language. 32 On the one hand, this philological work allows us to see how Lactantius both engaged with and appropriated his classical predecessors for his 11 30 Ogilvie 1978, 110, entertains the suggestion that Augustine, for example, was likely to have known little more Greek than Lactantius, but the idea is passed over without comment and Ogilvie does not fault Augustine for this as he does Lactantius. (This observation is also made in Bowen and Garnsey 2003, 6, but was reached independently by this author.) Although Ogilvie is correct to draw out attention to the problems of citation and quotation, and that when Lactantius writes of the Stoic opinion, for example, that it might not be the exact Stoic opinion, nonetheless he does so with an overly critical eye. The questions that he raises are those of doxography, attribution, and intellectual tradition, to which we shall give consideration in the first chapter. Ogilvie’s work might have been more insightful had it approached Lactantius in this way. 31 Jackson Bryce, The Library of Lactantius. New York: Garland Publishing, 1990. This work unfortunately carries the same name as Ogilvie’s book and consists of a minimally revised version of his dissertation. 32 Blandine Colot has made a large contribution to this literature, see her ‘Humanitas et ses synonymes chez Lactance,’ in Les problèmes de la synonymie en latin: colloque du centre Alfred Ernout, 3 et 4 juin 1992 (textes réunis par Claude Moussy). Paris: Pr. de l'Université de Paris-Sorbonne, 1994, 101-121 and ‘Considerations sur la forme et le sens des mots de la langue latine chez Lactance,’ in De lingua Latina nouae quaestiones: actes du Xe colloque international de linguistique latine, Paris-Sèvres, 19-23 avril 1999. éd. par Claude Moussy; with the help of Jacqueline Dangel [et al.]. Louvain; Paris: Peeters, 2001, 669-709. S. Casey, ‘clausulae et cursus chez Lactance,’ in Lactance et son temps. Recherches actuelles. Actes du IV e Colloque d'Études historiques et patristiques, Chantilly, 21-23 septembre 1976. ed. by Fontaine J. & Perrin M. Paris: Beauchesne, 1978, 157-164 is also useful. own, Christian purpose, and how his efforts varied both across his corpus and in comparison to other Christian intellectuals. On the other hand, it seems that at this moment, at least, this work has been relatively neglected in more recent scholarship on Lactantius. This is in part a consequence of the way that Lactantius has come to be used by recent scholars, a topic that we shall discuss below. An interest in Lactantius’ use of language has a parallel in the interest in his formulation of concepts. Here the bulk of the work has focused on his idea of iustitia, an idea of particular relevance to this project. 33 Along with these specific philological and conceptual studies has arisen a determined effort to understand Lactantius’ representations of the Stoics, Epicureans, and other philosophical schools. The work in this field has been partly doxographic but mostly critical: it is clear that Lactantius used and misused elements of various schools of philosophical thought as each best served his interests and argument. 34 While this has not led to a precisely preserved summary of those philosophical arguments, it has influenced our reading of Lactantius and our grasp of his method and intentions. The books of the Divinae Institutiones have been most often studied in this regard and demonstrate that Lactantius was 12 33 On iustitia, see Christiane Ingremeau, ‘Lactance et la justice dans le livre V des Institutions divines,’ Regards sur le monde antique: Hommages à Guy Sabbah. Textes recueillis par Madeleine Piot. Lyon: Pr. Universitaires de Lyon, 2002, 153-162 and Eberhard Heck, ‘Iustitia civilis - iustitia naturalis. A propos du jugement de Lactance concernant les discours sur la justice dans le De re publica de Cicéron,’ in Perrin and Fontaine 1978, 171-184. Both of these are concerned with the Divinae Institutiones. Although Ingremeau 1982 takes up the idea of justice in her notes on specific passages of De ira Dei, to the best of my knowledge, no sufficient treatment of the subject in the treatise exists. 34 See for example Christiane Ingremeau, ‘Lactance et la philosophie des passions,’ in Les Apologistes chrétiens et la culture grecque. ed. Bernard Pouderon et Joseph Doré. Paris: Beauchesne, 1998, 283-296; Gábor Kendeffy, ‘Lactantius on the passions,’ ACD 36 (2000), 113-129; Olof Gigon, ‘Lactantius und die Philosophie,’ in Kerygma und Logos. Beiträge zu den geistesgeschichtlichen Beziehungen zwischen Antike und Christentum. Festschrift für Carl Andresen zum 70. Geburtstag, ed. by Ritter A. M. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1979, 196-213; Tadeusz Maslowski, ‘The opponents of Lactantius (Inst. VII.7,7-13),’ CSCA 7 (1974) , 187-213; S. Casey, ‘Lactantius' reaction to pagan philosophy,’ C&M 32 (1971-1980), 203-219; J. Althoff, Zur Epikuruuezeption bei Laktanz. Zur Rezeption der Hellenistischen Philosophie in der Spatantike., Stuttgart, 1999; A. Bufano, ‘Lucrezio in Lattanzio.’ Giornale italiano di filologia 4 (1951), 335-349; E. Rapisarda, ‘L'epicueismo nei primi scrittori latini cristiani,’ Antiquitas 1 (1946), 49-54; and H. B. Timothy, The Early Christian Apologists and Greek Philosophy. Assen, The Netherlands, Van Gorcum & Comp., 1973. concerned more with Christian ethics than with accurately representing the opinions of the philosophical schools. Indeed, as we shall see throughout the course of this study, the theologian was more interested in appropriating perceived points of agreement only to use them to destroy philosophical arguments. Lactantius’ focus was on ethics and religion, and he envisioned the Stoics and Epicureans as opponents to his claims. The question of what Lactantius believed to have been a Stoic or Epicurean (or Platonic or Aristotelian) argument is likewise a topic that we shall treat in the first chapter. That Lactantius intended to establish a system of Christian ethics is a reflection of the socio-historic period in which he lived and wrote. If the author has been mined for classical sources, he has been just as frequently used as a source for the history of the early fourth century. An enthusiasm for the recovery of this history arguably took more at face value, as can be seen in readings of Lactantius’ accounts of the deaths of the persecutors and the rise of Constantine from certain Christian triumphalist perspectives specific to their authors’ own historical moment. 35 In the 1970s, some of these assumptions came to be challenged along with the dating of Lactantius’ works. 36 It is often the case that increased precision has led to a reevaluation of the apologist’s works and aims; his has been seen to be less a voice of Christian victory than of a relatively balanced, although certainly not neutral, 13 35 This is more so the case in summaries of the persecution dating to the nineteenth and earlier twentieth centuries. For the range of ways in which Lactantius’ account in De Mortibus Persecutorum has been handled in more critical scholarship of the event and its circumstances, see Christopher S. Mackay, ‘Lactantius and the succession to Diocletian,’ CPh 94.2 (1999), 198-209; Oliver Nicholson, ‘Lactantius' History of his own time: the first English translation of De mortibus persecutorum (1687),’ Studia Patristica 23 (1989), 256-265; Torben Christensen, ‘The so-called Edict of Milan,’ C&M 35 (1984), 129-175; Arne Søby Christensen, Lactantius the historian. An analysis of the De mortibus persecutorum. København: Museum Tusculanum Pr., 1980; and Francesco Amarelli, ‘Il De mortibus persecutorum nei suoi rapporti con l'ideologia coeva. SDHI 36 (1970), 207-264. The treatise has received special attention for its inclusion of two infamous bits of information, the so-called Edict of Milan and Constantine’s vision before the battle of the Milvian Bridge, both of which have parallels in Eusebius’ Historia Ecclesiae. 36 Most notably by Barnes 1973, upon which later authors have based their chronology. account of the Diocletianic persecution and the early years of Constantine’s rule with Licinius. It is in these ways in particular that he can be a useful balance to the histories written by Eusebius of Caesarea, including his Historia Ecclesiae and his Vita Constantini. When not referred to for the historical information that he recounts, Lactantius has come to play a significant role in the way in which recent scholars have constructed Constantine’s reign and the relationships between the emperor and the bishops, the state and the church. Lactantius’ contentions in the Divinae Institutiones have been formative in such arguments; three of these stand out. The first is Elizabeth Digeser’s 2000 book, in which she argues that Lactantius was instrumental in moving Constantine towards a policy of religious toleration. 37 Jeremy Schott sees Lactantius as an influential voice, and one that complemented Constantine’s, in the project of fashioning a Christian world history. 38 Finally, in Harold Drake’s analysis of the Donatist and Arian controversies, Lactantius comes across as having provided a model for non-coercion and disengagement. 39 In addition to these more thematic studies of the relationship between the rhetor and the emperor, 14 37 Elizabeth DePalma Digeser, The Making of a Christian Empire: Lactantius and Rome. Cornell University Press, 2000. 38 Jeremy Schott, Christianity, Empire, and the Making of Religion in Late Antiquity. University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008, especially 79-109. 39 Harold Drake, Constantine and the Bishops: The Politics of Intolerance. Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000, especially 192-308. arguments have been made both for Constantine’s forceful influence upon Lactantius and for Lactantius’ possible impact on Constantine. 40 The present study has benefitted from each of these areas of research, but it is specifically to the second and the third - matters philosophical, religious, and socio-historical - that it seeks to contribute. As noted above, the bulk of scholarship on Lactantius has focused on the Divinae Institutiones and little has been written about De ira Dei. Beyond the questions which occupied those engaged in Quellenforschung, the treatise has been examined for its representation of the Stoic and Epicurean arguments generally, for its presentation of theories on the emotions, and for the issue of divine anger narrowly construed. 41 With respect to the first, the conclusion is much the same as that which was reached in studies of the Divinae Institutiones: Lactantius takes what he deems useful and worthwhile from the philosophical schools, misrepresents their arguments, was working with a relatively static and murky idea of that tradition in the first place, and above all, wants little to do with philosophy. Much as in the longer treatise, in De ira Dei, the Stoics and Epicureans largely serve to give him a target as well as to engage a perceived audience, but in the end Lactantius 15 40 Those who think that Lactantius succeeded in an attempt to influence Constantine include Francesco Amarelli, Vetustas-Innovatio: Un’Antitesi apparente nella legislazione di Costantino. Naples, 1978 and Digeser 2000; one voice in favor of Constantine’s propagandist effort to use Lactantius as a mouthpiece is that of François Heim, L'influence exercée par Constantin sur Lactance, sa théologie de la victoire,’ in Perrin and Fontaine 1978, 55-64; but Jean Rougé, ‘Questions d'époque constantinienne,’ in E. Frézouls, ed., Crise et redressement dans les provinces européennes de l'empire, Actes du colloque de Strasbourg (décembre 1981). Strasbourg: AECR, 1983, 113-125 sees no influence. For an interesting and perhaps more balanced collection of evidence, see Judith Evans-Grubbs, Law and Family in Late Antiquity: The Emperor Constantine’s Marriage Legislation. Oxford University Press, 1995 (especially 5-53), who argues that there is little trace of any explicitly Christian effect in Constantine’s legislation but also suggests that Lactantius’ impact can be detected in Constantine’s Oratio ad Sanctos. 41 See also Carolyn Harvey, Lactantius’ De ira Dei: An Explications of the Arguments and Study of Lactantius’ Treatment of Greco-Roman Philosophy. MA Thesis, University of Georgia 2003 and E. F. Micka, The Problem of Divine Anger in Arnobius and Lactantius. Washington D.C., Catholic University of America Press, 1943. Max Pohlenz, Vom Zorne Gottes. Eine Studie über den Einfluss der griechischen Philosophie auf das alte Christentum. Göttingen, 1909 includes a treatment of De ira Dei. is more concerned with proving the superiority of justice (qua religion) and the primacy of the Christian God. It is with respect to the second case, the question of divine anger, that one would have thought there to have been greater attention paid to De ira Dei. That the supreme God was impassible was a distinguishing belief both of Greek philosophical and Christian doctrine. The problem with anger was that it was an emotion, and a bad one at that. If there existed a supreme being who was omnipotent, omniscient, and free from faults, it would not be fitting for that being to undergo the experience of having an emotion. Across the classical philosophical literature, emotions were understood as movements of the mind or soul. That a being could be moved in some way in turn implied that it was subject to change, and consequently that it could be lessened or destroyed. All of these were attributes that were seen as incompatible with the divine nature and thus could not be ascribed to God. Christian intellectuals who were aware of the Greek philosophical tradition would thus have had to reconcile anthropomorphic representations of God in the Old Testament books with that tradition. Curiously, this was not always the case. While Lactantius was not the only Christian to maintain that God’s wrath was a reality, he was the only one to have done so in a treatise specifically dedicated to that very point. 42 In writing De ira Dei, Lactantius established himself within a tradition of philosophical and theological argument over the nature of the emotions and their place in the divine nature. This was a conscious move. 43 The questions that remain are how and why he did so. Lactantius also engaged with a long history of ancient thought about the use and place of anger, a topic that, along with the emotions more generally, has become a focus of 16 42 Ingremeau 1982, 1 makes this point, as do others. The closest classical parallel is Seneca’s De Ira, although it had far different aims. 43 De ira Dei 22.1-2. recent scholarly investigation. In the case of the latter, studies have debated their conception by ancients as either cognitive or physiological, their valuation by various individuals and communities, and their perceived place in human beings (literally and figuratively). 44 With respect to the former, William Harris’ massive tome has provided not only a sweeping history of anger from the Greco-Roman through the Christian periods, but also has focused on the evidence that encouraged the removal or extirpation of anger. 45 Other studies have elucidated strains of ancient thought that argued for the necessity of anger, albeit in a moderated amount and only in very specific circumstances. 46 Aristotle, for example, believed that anger was crucial for maintaining social relationships, for justice, and for the preservation of one’s power, honor, and dignity. 47 There existed as well a literature concerning the appropriateness of anger in persons of power like magistrates and emperors. 17 44 There is a lengthy bibliography on the emotions; the items listed here are suggestions for the reader interested in both general assessments and theories about approaches to the emotions themselves. See, then Aaron Ben Ze'ev, The Subtlety of Emotions. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2000; Antonio Damasio, Descartes' Error: Emotion, Reason, and the Human Brain, Penguin Books, 1994; Margaret Graver, Stoicism and Emotion. University of Chicago Press, 2007; David Konstan, The Emotions of the Ancient Greeks: Studies in Aristotle and Classical Literature. University of Toronto Press, 2006; Martha Nussbuam, The Therapy of Desire: Theory and Practice in Hellenistic Ethics. Princeton University Press, 1994 and Upheavals of Thought: The Intelligence of Emotions. Cambridge University Press, 2003; William M. Reddy, The Navigation of Feeling: A Framework for the History of Emotions. Cambridge University Press, 2001; Daniel L. Smail, The Consumption of Justice: Emotions, Publicity, and Legal Culture in Marseille, 1264-1423. Cornell University Press, 2003; and Richard Sorabji, Emotion and Peace of Mind: From Stoic Agitation to Christian Temptation. Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2000. 45 William V . Harris, Restraining Rage: The Ideology of Anger Control in Classical Antiquity. Harvard University Press, 2001; although this is an unparalleled resource for the study of anger in the Greek and Roman worlds, Christianity is given only very brief treatment (about ten pages) towards the end of the work. 46 Such studies include discussions in works about power dynamics and persuasion, social status and etiquette, as well as thinking on imperial deportment and composure. Two relevant examples are Barbara Rosenswein, ed. Anger's Past: The Social Uses of an Emotion in the Middle Ages. Ithaca and London, Cornell University Press, 1998; Susanna Braund and Glen Most, eds. Ancient Anger: Perspectives from Homer to Galen. Yale Classical Studies 32. Cambridge University Press, 2003. 47 Aristotle Rhetoric 2.2; see also Nicomachean Ethics 8.10; see generally David Konstan, The Emotions of the Ancient Greeks: Studies in Aristotle and Classical Literature. University of Toronto Press, 2006 and M. Sokolon, Political Emotions: Aristotle and the Symphony of Reason and Emotion. De Kalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 2006. This tradition of anger-advice is one that continued into late antiquity and the Medieval period as both a continuation of the precedent and a reformulation of it. Lactantius’ treatise ought to be approached with both the philosophical and the practical dimensions in mind, much as Lactantius himself should be approached. He was both a classically trained Latin rhetor and a late convert to Christianity; as someone who lived during both the Diocletianic persecution and the first twenty years of Constantine’s rule, he was a witness to political and ecclesiastical intrigues and schisms, to tensions both internal and external to Christian life and doctrine. It is surprising then, that in an otherwise careful and insightful reading of De ira Dei, Ingremeau focuses her attention on the argument that Lactantius based his idea of divine anger mostly on the articulation thereof by Paul in his epistles. 48 The emphasis that she finds in the treatise is on the paternal, personal nature of God’s wrath at humankind, one that exists out of God’s love and care for humans. Yet she argues that this is not because they have disobeyed the divine law; in this model the law is just one component of the ties between God and mortals. 49 To further illustrate this point, Ingremeau compares the dedications to Constantine in the Divinae Institutiones to what she identifies as three major themes of De ira Dei: first, that ‘God is presented as erga pios indulgentissimus pater, and as adversus inpios severissimus iudex;’ second, that the ‘portrait of the emperor corresponds to the ideal of the paterfamilias;’ and third, that the ‘true justice of Constantine is opposed to the false justice of those who are ignorant of God, even if they seem fair by nature.’ 50 18 48 Ingremeau 1982, 13-16, although she notes that the text lacks the eschatological aspects found in Paul. 49 Ingremeau 1982, 16: ‘...il présente un Dieu personnel et sensible, dont la colère est étroitement liée à la bonté, juge équitable, mais qui veut aussi l’amour des hommes - non pas seulement l’obéissance à sa loi -, père attentif et, partant, sévère pour ceux qu’il aime.’ 50 Ingremeau 1982, 35-36; the dedications she has in mind are those that occur at DI 1.1.15 and 7.26.10a (cited by Ingremeau as 2.27.2). Although Ingremeau is correct to draw attention to the image of the father in the text, her assessment overlooks the significance of the idea of the paterfamilias, especially as the master of all of his domain and property (and not just his wife and children). 51 It is not, as Ingremeau suggests, that Lactantius subordinates the law to the relationship between God and humans but rather that he views that relationship as expressed in terms of the law. God’s wrath is not exemplary of the type of bond between father and child but of that between master and slave. Lactantius’ insistence on the image of God as judge is crucial to his formulation of divine wrath and the relationship between God and humankind, and along with it, his conception of the law and the implementation thereof. Furthermore, by raising the question of the parallels to the Constantinian dedications, Ingremeau suggests that De ira Dei was connected to the overarching themes of the Divinae Institutiones in a way that has as of yet been left unexplored. It is not merely that the one looked forward to and announced the other, but that both are equally representative of Lactantius’ thought on religious as well as practical matters. In both texts, the doctrine espoused by Lactantius was intended to influence and to affect his audience, both pagan and Christian. The aim of this study, then, is to examine how Lactantius came to formulate his argument about divine anger, how his claims were both similar to and different from those of his philosophical and Christian peers, and to identify the contemporary relevance of the treatise. This investigation will begin with a look at the literary theological tradition of which Lactantius saw himself a part. After a reading and summary of the treatise, an evaluation of Lactantius’ numerous references to, paraphrases and quotations of Cicero’s De Natura 19 51 The passages that Ingremeau has in mind in this formulation are primarily De ira Dei 5.12, 17.8, 18.6-9, and 24.4-5. One of the more significant problems with her focus on the idea of the pater and paterfamilias, in the context of 5.12 (as well as at 17.8 and 18.6-9) is that the term that Lactantius uses to express the relationship between God and humankind are dominus and servi. We shall consider this in Chapter 2, especially 105-115. Deorum will show not only that Cicero was an important source for this treatise but also that Lactantius was likewise interested in contributing to a discussion of the divine nature. 52 The parallels between the two texts are most explicit when Lactantius crafts his case for God’s providence and agency; God is not just the creator of humankind but even has a vested interest in that creation. Lactantius’ insistence on God’s active nature is fundamental to his idea of God and his conception of how God acts toward those within his power: if God is not active, he suggests, then there is little point in obeying and worshipping him. This discussion contextualizes Lactantius’ claims about divine anger and further elucidates his relationship to Cicero: the classical orator is not merely a stylistic model for the Christian intellectual, but a theological model as well. From there we shall examine how individuals in the Greek theosophical tradition articulated the idea of divine anger. The gods of Greco-Roman mythology were often and easily angered, in response to these representations a variety of hermeneutic strategies were brought to bear. Some, like Plato, sought to eradicate such inappropriate stories of the gods while others adopted figural readings and interpretations of these texts. To this end, the hermeneutic strategies of Heraclitus ‘the Allegorist,’ Philo of Alexandria, and Origen will serve as points of comparison. That Lactantius chose not to adopt any of these perspectives in his argument for divine wrath indicates that he consciously broke from the philosophical and theological positions. This break reflects the content of his argument just as it emphasizes its style: his will be a claim based in the principles of rhetoric and persuasion. An analysis of the way that Lactantius structures his argument and of how he defines anger highlights these points of difference and Lactantius’ moments of innovation. 20 52 Previous work on Lactantius has clearly demonstrated the relevance of Cicero to Lactantius’ Divinae Institutiones (one thinks immediately of Bryce 1990, for example); the issue explored here is how this relationship works to shape Lactantius’ argument in De ira Dei. Where a figural reading might suggest that we should understand something other than God’s wrath when we come upon texts that describe it, Lactantius’ literal reading and rhetorical defense thereof sees anger as an emotion, a ‘movement of the mind’ (motus animi) of God. 53 Lactantius’ qualification that this is iusta ira is not enough to discount its singularity as a deviation from the Greek philosophical tradition. The origin of Lactantius’ idea of divine wrath, namely his reading of the Old and New Testaments, is then explored, with an emphasis on the issues of the law and the figure of the judge. Although the idea of God’s anger is found in the New Testament, the Pauline representation of the problem especially focused on shifting the terms and motivations for that anger. In his epistles, Paul reframes the idea of God’s wrath as a product of his simultaneous love for humankind; here the image is predominantly of God the Father. 54 This articulation of God’s nature and attitude towards mortals marks an important transformation of the concept of God the stern judge often found in the books of the Old Testament. It also involves a reconfiguration of the idea of the divine law. Particularly in the Pentateuch, God’s law is crucial to the welfare of the Israelites; it is because of their frequent disobedience of the law that they fall into trouble and are punished by God. In De ira Dei, Lactantius places the highest significance on the divine law; God punishes the impious precisely because they transgress the law. The question then becomes how Lactantius envisioned that law. Through a consideration of parallels in his other texts, it becomes clear that the divine law for Lactantius consisted in the knowledge and worship of 21 53 Lactantius uses the terms motus animi and affectus to describe God’s wrath throughout the treatise. 54 We shall consider some passages below, pages 91-104 but a sampling includes Hebrews 12:5-11; Romans 1:18-28, 3:20, and 5:15; and Ephesians 2:3. God and God alone. 55 As such, it betrays an influence more akin to the theology of the Old Testament than that of the New; the emphasis is on God as Judge, not God as Father. This discussion lays the groundwork for a consideration of how other Christians in the Latin tradition handled the problem of divine anger. The writings of Minucius Felix, Tertullian, Novatian, Arnobius, and Cyprian suggest that there was no consensus among those who treated the topic. Some, like Minucius, Novatian, and Arnobius adopted the tenets of the Greek philosophical tradition and denied that God could get angry, although each fashioned his argument differently. Others, like Tertullian and Cyprian, were advocates of divine wrath, although each in his own way. Minucius Felix, Tertullian, and Cyprian are of particular significance to this project: Lactantius turns to a discussion of each of them in the Divinae Institutiones, criticizing them for their methods or for their use of scriptural references. Lactantius’ evaluation of his Latin predecessors in that text clarifies his purpose and methodology in De ira Dei. In the latter treatise, Lactantius’ references to the Bible are less explicit than in any other text, and purposely so. Lactantius informs us that his intended audience would discount such information and his argument would thus be better served by an appeal to the kind of material more familiar and acceptable to that audience. The discussions in this chapter suggest that Lactantius attempted to offer a unique presentation of divine anger, and that these Christians of the Latin tradition were not as concerned with the claims of the Greek theosophical tradition as we might originally have supposed. In the final chapter, we shall think about the practical implications of the treatise and the possible influence that Lactantius hoped to have on contemporary political and theological affairs. The issues that the Christian Optatus (late fourth century) identified as intrinsic to the debates surrounding the Donatist schism in North Africa will be our starting 22 55 Some articulations of this idea are found at DI 4.10, 5.8.8-10, 6.8.6-12, 6.9, 6.23.21-25, and 6.24.25-27. point. Throughout his text Optatus criticizes the Donatists for initially having sought secular Roman help in resolving the conflict and argues that such a theological debate would have been best heard by a ‘tribunal of God.’ In a series of documents appended to Optatus’ text we see how the dispute unfolded and how Constantine acted and reacted to it at various points. The emperor’s ultimate focus on the unity and concord of the church becomes clear, as does his concern with whether he was the appropriate judge for these affairs. As a witness to the schism, and in the guise of theological adviser, Lactantius might have attempted to offer advice. Read against these contemporary political and religious events, the message of De ira Dei is clear: God is the final and ultimate judge of those in his power; whatever power is extended to humans, it is meant only for those affairs that fall within their terrestrial jurisdiction. In arguing for God’s wrath and in distinguishing between the earthly and the heavenly judge, the treatise recalls in yet another way the tenets of classical Roman thought, here those of religion and jurisprudence. De ira Dei, far from being an obscure text, was instead a treatise designed to contribute to an ongoing theological debate as well as to persuade on the practical, pragmatic problem of the correct adjudication of ecclesiastical affairs. It is representative of Lactantius’ thought, a companion to his other works, and deserving of our attention. My intentions are to contribute to ongoing discussions in the scholarship on Lactantius and the early fourth century and to identify new avenues of research. In a brief epilogue, I suggest additional areas of potential interest to the reader and some of the ways that the current project might be advanced. 23 [1.] The ‘Christian Cicero’: De ira Dei and De Natura Deorum Students of Lactantius are quick to quote the designation bestowed upon him by the Renaissance Humanists: he is the ‘Christian Cicero.’ 56 Nor is this an unhelpful way of initially thinking of our author. Trained in rhetoric in North Africa by Arnobius, Lactantius was steeped in Classical Latin oratory and literature; the fruits of this education are evident throughout his corpus. 57 That Lactantius used and relied upon classical Greek and Roman authors in his own texts is not unusual; many of the Latin Church Fathers paraphrased, quoted, and otherwise borrowed from their pagan and philosophical predecessors. 58 These references are both implicit and explicit, and serve a variety of purposes: by using them, Lactantius seeks to make and refute points, clarify his thoughts, and shape the terms of the 24 56 Nor would this designation have been lost on his contemporaries and close successors; it begins as early as Jerome (quidam fluvius eloquentiae Tullianae, Epistle 58.10) and Augustine (De Doctrina Christiana 2.61). Petrarch and Pico della Mirandola made substantive use of Lactantius; later interest is attested by the number (over one hundred) of his manuscripts in circulation in the mid-19th century. 57 On Arnobius, see Michael Bland Simmons, Arnobius of Sicca: Religious Conflict and Competition in the Age of Diocletian, Oxford: Clarendon, 1995, 113-117, which is concerned with the study of rhetoric in North Africa in the third century CE. For what little we know about Lactantius’ life, see Timothy David Barnes, ‘Lactantius and Constantine,’ JRS 63 (1973) 29-46; Pierre Monat, ed., Lactance, Institutions divines, livre I (Paris 1986) 11-15; and Rene Pichon, Lactance: etude sur le mouvement philosophique et religieux sous le regne de Constantin Paris 1901, 1-32. The relationship between Arnobius and Lactantius is attested by Jerome, De Viris Illustriis 80, though Lactantius makes no mention of him and probably did not know that his former teacher had himself converted to Christianity, as at that point he would have already departed for Nicomedia; cf. Jackson Bryce, The Library of Lactantius, New York and London: Garland, 1990, 2-3, itself referencing Rev. Ermin F. Micka, The Problem of Divine Anger in Arnobius and Lactantius, Catholic University of America Studies in Christian Antiquity 3, Washington D.C., 1943, 145-147. On Lactantius’ education and the evidence of rhetorical training in his work, see chapter three, pages 116-122 below. 58 See most helpfully K. O. Harald Hagendahl, Latin Fathers and the Classics. Göteborg, 1958. debate. 59 Of the fifty discernible citations from Ciceronian works, thirty-six make direct reference or allusion to that author’s De Natura Deorum. Lactantius’ use of De Natura Deorum is not merely as a source of Roman religious thought and practice but more precisely as a way of framing his own arguments about the anger of God. On the one hand, Lactantius can only react to or against the text; it is a static entity and in replicating it he perpetuates its arguments and its errors, as in his use of some of the Stoic and Epicurean material. 60 Yet on the other hand, Lactantius also interacts with the text, insofar as he inserts himself into its debates and dialogues and wrestles with the same essential questions with which Cicero’s text is concerned. Much work has been done on the question of Lactantius’ incorporation of Ciceronian material, particularly with regard to the Divinae Institutiones. 61 An examination of the Ciceronian passages quoted by Lactantius in De ira Dei will prove equally useful. In what follows, we shall examine points of intersection and correspondence between De ira Dei and Cicero’s De Natura Deorum, a text which I will argue forms the basis for Lactantius’ 25 59 This is not to suggest, however, that Lactantius had read all of these authors: many of these quotations and paraphrases can be traced to Cicero, and references to Cicero alone constitute nearly half of the one hundred and nine of these cases. Different authors give varying amounts of credit to Lactantius in this regard. While I am not as pessimistic as some (e.g. Robert Ogilvie, The Library of Lactantius (Oxford 1978)) about the depth and breadth (or for Ogilvie, the dearth) of Lactantius’ reading, there is nonetheless a complex doxography at play. So while it is not enough to say simply that Lactantius got everything from Cicero and a few other sources, it is likewise too much to say that he was directly reading some of those authors whom Ogilvie cites. On Ciceronian doxography with particular emphasis on the Stoics, see briefly and helpfully Marcia Colish, ‘Cicero,’ in eadem, The Stoic Tradition from Antiquity to the early Middle Ages. Volume I: Stoicism in Classical Latin Literature. Brill, 1985, 61-108 at 65-74. 60 That is to say, Lactantius is one step (if not many steps) removed from Cicero, who was himself at some distance from the Stoic, Epicurean, and Academic arguments that he inserts into the mouths of his interlocutors. Thus, as often, we find Lactantius quoting Cicero quoting Cleanthes, or at least some kind of ‘Cleanthes.’ See also later in this chapter. 61 Nearly everyone who reads or writes about Lactantius cannot help but notice this fact; I point the reader to two works here. The first is the following edition of the text, which contains in index of all the Ciceronian passages: Samuel Brandt and Georg Laubmann, eds., Lactantius Firmianus: Opera Omnia. Accedunt carmina eius quae feruntur et L. Caecilii qui incriptus est De mortibus persecutorum liber. Vienna, Prague, and Leipzig 1890-97 = Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum 18 and 27); the second is the careful synthesis of Bryce (1990) 19-22. articulation of the nature of the Christian God. Before turning to these points of contact and transmission, however, it will be necessary to provide a brief presentation of the text and Lactantius’ main arguments. The seemingly uneven and haphazard organization of Lactantius’ text has led some to conclude that the treatise as we have it reflects only one stage in a process of revisions that Lactantius never finished. 62 Discussions and arguments about divine anger are spread over three main sections of the text and are interspersed by lengthy chapters on wisdom and knowledge, on divine providence and the follies of philosophical schools, as well as fear, religion and justice. For Lactantius, however, all of these are intimately related to the question of God’s anger; that this is so is evidenced by the organization of his text. A concise thematic analysis of the treatise is given in the following outline, to which I will refer in my reading; the numbers in parentheses correspond to the numbers of the chapters in the text itself: 1. Introduction and statement of the problem; plan for the work. (1-2) 2. Relationship between anger and kindness. (3-6a) 2a. Presentation and refutation of Epicurean arguments. (4) 2b. Presentation and refutation of Stoic arguments. (5) 3. Anger is necessary for religion; proofs to this effect (6b-14) 3a. On religion. (7-8) 3b. On divine providence and the power of God. (9-11) 3c. Religion; God’s governance. (12-14) 4. On the anger of God and emotions befitting him. (15-21) 4a. Anger has a materia in God. (15-16) 4b. The philosophers’ errors; definition of anger. (17) 4c. Just vs. unjust anger; punishment, anger, mercy; vice and virtue. (18-21) 5. Conclusion: testimony of the Sibyls and peroration. (22-24) 63 26 62 Christiane Ingremeau, Lactance: La Colère de Dieu: Introduction, Texte Critique, Traduction, Commentaire et Index. Paris, Les Éditions du Cerf, 1982, 41. We shall return to he organization of Lactantius’ text in the third chapter; the outline given here will also be developed and discussed in greater detail at that point. 63 For another version of this breakdown, see Ingremeau (1982) 37-41, who makes the following divisions: (A) Chapters 1-2; (B) Chapters 3-6; (C) Chapter 7; (D) Chapters 8-11; (E) Chapter 12; (F) Chapters 13-15.5; (G) Chapters 15.6-17.12; (H) Chapters 17.13-18; (I) Chapters 19-21; (J): Chapters 22-23; and (K): Chapter 23. The text of De ira Dei begins with an address to Donatus in which Lactantius states the debate in which he wants to engage: the question of divine anger (1). 64 His initial disagreement is with the many people who, along with some philosophers, argue that the supreme God is either altogether beneficent and thus incapable of anger or that he takes no interest in human affairs. 65 According to Lactantius, the overwhelming mistake inherent in these opinions is that those who hold them lack the teaching of God, relying instead upon conjecture in order to ascertain the ‘nature of things.’ 66 That this is the case is supported by a reference to Socrates’ insistence on the limits of human knowledge and wisdom. Lactantius reasons that since there is no human wisdom, knowledge of the truth is divine and thus only belongs to God. 67 In order to know the truth one must know God; knowledge of the truth is itself divine. Yet the path to knowledge of God is slippery and one can easily falter. Lactantius identifies three steps to be climbed in the pursuit of truth. 68 The first is to understand false religions - or rather, recognizing religions as false, including 27 64 There is no clear consensus concerning who this Donatus was. I quote here the notes from the PLL manuscript: Hunc nonnulli fuisse censent Donatum confessorem, cui Lactantius suum de Mortibus Persecutorum dicavit librum. Alii volunt fuisse Donatum haeresiarcham Donatistarum, alteri vero Aelium Donatum Grammaticum S. Hieronymi praeceptorem: quod cum divinari magis, quam certo sciri possit, penes lectorem remitto examen et iudicium. Cf. Ingremeau (1982) 215 and discussion pages 26-28. The identification of the Donatus of Lactantius’ treatise with the Donatus who came to be at the forefront of the Donatist schism in North Africa is tempting but ultimately unprovable. 65 Although this begins as a reaction against the ‘many’ who make this claim (plurimos ad aestimare) and the ‘not a few’ philosophers who also adhere to it (nonnulli philosophorum putaverunt), it quickly becomes clear that Lactantius has the Stoic and Epicurean philosophers especially in mind. We shall discuss below whom these imagined opponents might have been, but we shall leave a consideration of Lactantius’ audience aside until the fifth chapter of this study. 66 De ira Dei 1.3-4a, hereafter ID: Nec tamen nos adrogantes sumus ut conprehensam nostro ingenio veritatem gloriemur, sed doctrinam dei sequimur qui scire solus potest et revelare secreta. [4] Cuius doctrinae philosophi expertes aestimaverunt naturam rerum coniectura posse deprehendi. 67 ID 1.8: Si ergo nulla est sapientia humana, ut Socrates docuit, ut Plato tradidit, apparet esse divinam, nec ulli alii, quam Deo veritatis notitiam subiacere. Deus igitur noscendus est, in quo solo veritas est. Ille mundi parens, et conditor rerum, qui oculis non videtur, mente vix cernitur. Cuius religio multis modis impugnari solet ab iis, qui neque veram sapientiam tenere potuerunt, neque magni et coelestis arcani comprehendere rationem. 68 ID 2.1-7. the worship of gods made by human hands. Those who are able to recognize what is true can ascend to the second step, which is to perceive that there is one Supreme God, and from there to the third, the recognition of God’s ‘servant and messenger,’ namely Jesus Christ. 69 Lactantius already rebuked those who fall from the first step in the Divinae Institutiones; his concern in this treatise is with those who fall from the second step, who are ‘ensnared by the philosophers, captivated by false arguments.’ 70 His criticisms are even more specific: these people either deny that God has any shape (figuram), or think that he is moved by no affection (nullo affectu commoveri putant), since they maintain that ‘every affection is a sign of weakness’ (quia sit omnis affectus imbecillitatis), and there can be no weakness in God. 71 While some philosophers say that God is only benevolent, and others that he is completely aloof, nevertheless they are all incorrect in their agreement over the absence of anger in God (2). 72 Resting on the statement that there is an intrinsic relationship between anger and kindness (ira et gratia), Lactantius argues that either (a) anger must remain and kindness be removed from God; or (b) both must be removed; or (c) anger must be removed and kindness remain; or (d) that neither must be removed. 73 The explication of this idea takes 28 69 ID 2.2: Tertius, cognoscere ministrum eius ac nuntium, quem legavit in terram; quo docente, liberati ab errore, quo implicati tenebamur, formatique ad veri Dei cultum, iustitiam disceremus. Ex quibus omnibus gradibus, ut dixi, pronus est lapsus et facilis ad ruinam, nisi pedes inconcussa stabilitate figantur. 70 ID 2.5: De secundo vero gradu eos dicimus cadere, qui cum sentiant, unum esse summum Deum, iidem tamen a philosophis inretiti, et falsis argumentationibus capti, aliter de unica illa maiestate sentiunt, quam veritas habet; qui aut figuram negant habere ullam Deum, aut nullo affectu commoveri putant, quia sit omnis affectus imbecillitatis, quae in Deo nulla est. Cf. Divinae Institutiones 2.5.4-6.2 and Epitome 21.1-5. 71 The claim is drawn out over the course of ID chapters three through six. That the supreme deity could have no emotion was a popular argument, and one to which we will turn in the second chapter. 72 The way in which Lactantius presents this argument varies throughout the text, but he is most often concerned with examing the opposition - and what can later be seen as the relationship - between anger and kindness. At no point does it seem reasonable to him that the two exist separately; as we shall see below these emotions belong to the same ratio, or system, from which they cannot be divorced. 73 ‘Gratia’ for Lactantius is not the equivalent of the Greek charis or our ‘grace,’ but rather denotes an emotion just like that of anger or pity. the form of a rebuttal of the previous possibilities (a-c). No one, writes Lactantius, has ever argued that God is subject to anger alone, for to do so would be to suggest that evils come from God and good things from someone or something else. 74 Epicurus is then presented as the primary proponent of this view and the figure who ought to be argued against (2a). 75 In Lactantius’ understanding, Epicurus thought it unreasonable that God inflict harm or injury, and since these arise from anger, God cannot have anger - and, if he cannot have anger, he cannot have beneficence, either. Epicurus is presented as coming to the conclusion that God’s happiness and incorruptability are due to his disinterest in and disregard for human affairs. 76 For Lactantius, to remove movement, will, action, and administration from God is to strip him of all divine qualities. 77 It is the last of these, administration, that Lactantius later takes up, but it is on the first three that it is formed. If God is always inactive and immoveable, he cannot care for the world, he is deprived of his power (vis) and substance (substantia) and stripped of that which makes him divine. Here Lactantius notes the folly of Epicurus, who leaves the gods ‘in words’ (verba) but takes them away ‘in reality’ (res) 29 74 ID 3.1-5. Lactantius believes that evils do come from God however, for to attribute evil to another being would imply that that being has a source of power equal to or greater than God’s. 75 ID 4 passim, but especially 4.1-2. We shall discuss Lactantius’ sources for Epicurean (and Stoic) thought below, but can note at this point that what Lactantius identifies as Epicurean, for example, is not necessarily truly an Epicurean belief, and that the attribution of ‘Epicurean’ is itself problematic for its elision of doxographic tradition and philosophical development. For one take on Lactantius’ presentation of Stoic and Epicurean thought in De ira Dei, see Carol Harvey, Lactantius' De Ira Dei: An Explication of the Arguments and Study of Lactantius' Treatment of Greco-Roman Philosophy Athens: University of Georgia, MA Thesis 2003. 76 ID 4.2: Itaque ne illi vitium concederet, etiam virtutis fecit expertem. Ex hoc, inquit, beatus et incorruptus est, quia nihil curat, neque habet ipse negotium, neque alteri exhibet. As noted below, Lactantius commends Epicurus for recognizing that the emotions belong to one system and that for this reason cannot be separated from one another. The fault of Epicurus then was to remove, rather than to attribute, both. 77 ID 4.3: Deus igitur non est, si nec movetur, quod est proprium viventis, nec facit aliquid impossibile homini, quod est proprium dei, si omnino nullam habet voluntatem, nullum actum, nullam denique administrationem quoae deo digna sit. On the necessity of action and movement to God in Lactantius’ opinion see below, 39-40. attributing to them no motion (motus) and no function (officium). 78 The root of Epicurus’ deceit is in his ignorance of the truth, which is itself based in misguided reasoning, which returns Lactantius to the problem of anger: if Epicurus holds that there is neither anger nor kindness, there can be no other affections, because all the affections have one system, one ‘motion,’ which, because they are weak, cannot exist in God. 79 This leads Epicurus to the inevitable conclusion that God has neither care nor providence, which means that he has neither reflection nor perception, from which one must conclude that he has no existence. 80 For his next rebuttal, Lactantius attacks the Stoics, who (he argues) maintain that there is kindness in God, but not anger (2b). They claim, writes Lactantius, that anger is a ‘commotion and perturbation of the mind’ (commotio mentis et perturbatio), and by doing so they make anger something that is incompatible with a supreme god. 81 The Stoic conception of anger is couched in largely physical terms, insofar as anger effects changes in the body and results, for humans, in the shedding of blood, the destruction of cities and the like, with the resulting fear being that if God could get angry, he could very well destroy the world and the universe in their entirety. 82 A misguided emphasis on God’s perfection as 30 78 ID 4.7; the comment about Epicurus’ folly is taken from De Natura Deorum, 1.123 (to be examined in detail below), it also marks the first explicit reference to Cicero in the treatise. 79 ID 4.12a: Una est enim ratio cunctis adfectibus, una commotio quae in deum cadere non potest. Lactantius makes a slippery move; throughout the treatise he focuses on the reasonable elements of anger and the importance of ratio (see chapter three, below) but ascribes the idea that the emotions are the part of a commotio (or, soon, perturbatio) to his opponents. Cf. ID 5.2, below. 80 Lactantius omits this step in the logic but implies it. This view is based on Lactantius’ assertion that God is a living thing and that as a living thing he must have perception, from which it follows that he must be able to be moved by kindness or to anger. 81 ID 5.2: Favorabilis admodum ac popularis oratio non cadere in deum hanc animi pusillitatem ut ab ullo se laesum putet, qui laedi non potest, ut quieta illa et sancta maiestas concitetur perturbetur insaniat, quod est terrenae fragilitatis; iram enim commotionem mentis esse ac perturbationem, quae sit a deo aliena. 82 ID 5.4: Et si homo, qui habet imperium ac potestatem, late noceat per iram, sanguinem fundat, urbes subvertat, populos deleat, provincias ad solitudinem redigat; quanto magis Deum, qui habeat totius generis humani, et ipsius mundi potestatem, perditurum fuisse universa credibile sit, si irasceretur? something intrinsically contingent upon his love and kindness is, according to Lactantius, what causes the Stoics to miss an important point: if God is not angry with the impious and the unrighteous, he does not love the pious and the righteous. 83 For Lactantius, these claims are based on false premises, and the love of the good and hatred of the wicked are ‘connected by nature,’ so that the one cannot exist without the other - much as one cannot remove either anger or kindness from God but must remove both or let both remain. 84 For this reason, the philosophers ought to have reasoned that because God is moved by kindness, he is also capable of anger. 85 Lactantius further argues that this opinion is the ‘sum and turning-point on which the whole of piety and religion depend’ (3). 86 The mention of religion prompts Lactantius to enter into a discussion about the difference between humans and animals, namely, that man is the only animal capable of having knowledge of God (3a). Following a short comparison of the similarities between men and animals, Lactantius phrases the difference as follows: ‘religion is the only thing of which no trace can be found in animals,’ and that this is because ‘justice is peculiar to 31 83 ID 5.9a: Nam si deus non irascitur inpiis et iniustis, ne pios utique iustosque diligit. 84 ID 5.9b-11, after which Lactantius provides an analogy to a master and his slave: the master will love the obedient slave and hate the disobedient one (5.12-14). We shall discuss this analogy, which appears in two other moments in the treatise, in detail in the next chapter. 85 ID 5.16: Non enim sic oportebat eos argumentari: quia deus non irascitur, ergo nec gratia commovetur, sed ita: quia gratia deus movetur, ergo et irascitur. 86 ID 6.2: Haec tuenda nobis et adserenda sententia est: in eo enim summa omnis et cardo religionis pietatisque versatur. Nam neque honor ullus deberi potest deo, si nihil praestate colenti, nec ullus metus, si non irascitur non colenti. One should also note the mention of fear: for Lactantius, it is necessary that God be capable of anger so that people will honor and worship him; if there is no anger, then there is no reason for those who do not worship him to fear any repercussions. Or, in other words, to worship God is to fear him. For a later opinion on the appropriateness of fear, see Augustine, Eighty-Three Different Questions, Q 33 (‘On Fear’), Q 34 (‘Must Nothing Else be Loved but Freedom from Fear?’) and Q 71 (‘Is Fear a Sin?’). religion.’ 87 The difference, then, is threefold: man alone has knowledge of God, which makes him capable of religion, which itself has the aim of justice. This move from religion to justice is clarified by a further statement, that ‘the worship of God is under the category of justice; and he who does not embrace this [is] far removed from the nature of man.’ 88 To be human is to be capable of the knowledge of God, which is to say, religion. Here again Lactantius maintains that Epicurus has missed the mark. Quoting from Lucretius’ De Natura Rerum, he argues against the idea of a god who neither confers any good upon nor repays the obedience of his worshipper with favor, for if this is the case, there would be no reason to honor, sacrifice or build a temple to, or otherwise propitiate the god. 89 Further, Lactantius asserts, if God takes no notice of human affairs, there is no point in obeying the public laws and refraining from criminal acts; if there is nothing above or beyond the laws, there is little consequence to such actions. By embracing these opinions, Epicurus effectively destroys religion, which equates us with the animals. Since, Lactantius reasons, this is certainly not the case, the only other option is that religion must remain intact, and that part of religion is fear - the fear, primarily, of getting caught (e.g., of God 32 87 ID 7.6: Propterea ‘nullum est animal, ut ait Cicero, praeter hominem quod habeat notitiam aliquam dei.’ Solus enim sapientia instructus est ut religionem solus intellegat, et haec est hominis atque mutorum vel praecipua vel sola distantia. 88 ID 7.12-13: Longum est, si exequi velim, quae a singulis generibus animalium fieri soleant humanae solertiae simillima. Quod si horum omnium, quae adscribi homini solent, in mutis quoque deprehenditur similitudo, apparet solam esse religionem, cuius in mutis nec vestigium aliquod, nec ulla suspicio inveniri potest. [13] Religionis enim est propria iustitia, quam nullum aliud animal attingit. Homo enim solus imperat; caetera sibi conciliata sunt. Iustitiae autem Dei cultus adscribitur; quem qui non suscipit, hic a natura hominis alienus, vitam pecudum sub humana specie vivet. 89 ID 8.1-2. On Lactantius’ view of Lucretius, see A. Bufano, ‘Lucrezio in Lattanzio.’ Giornale italiano di filologia 4 (1951), 335-349; on Epicureanism in Lactantius more generally see J. Althoff, Zur Epikuruezeption bei Laktanz. Zur Rezeption der Hellenistischen Philosophie in der Spatantike. Stuttgart, 1999. seeing our actions and hearing our thoughts). 90 To round out the trio, we must consider that ‘there is no fear where no one is angry,’ with the unexpressed implication that there is a punishment (eternal or otherwise) to be meted out for wrong-doing. 91 Whether or not one ascribes to this theory depends on how one understands it, notes Lactantius. While some are content to appreciate the power of fear only in terms of utility - terror of the power above you will prevent you from sinning - and as a construction of skillful men for the ordering of societies, Lactantius sees greater purpose and design. Although he marks this next topic of discussion as ‘foreign to the subject which we have proposed,’ he nonetheless is compelled to enter into an explanation of divine providence, which spans the subsequent three chapters and several pages (3b). 92 This defense of God’s providence begins with an overview of those philosophers who denied it. We find among them Protagoras (who said it was unclear whether or not any divinity existed); Epicurus (who said that there is a God, but no providence, and again receives harsh treatment); Diagoras of Melos (who altogether denied God’s existence); and Theodorus of Cyrene (who, for lack of an alternative, simply disagreed with the predominant opinion that divine providence does exist). Socrates and Plato escape this round unscathed, as both are found 33 90 ID 8.8b: Multum enim refraenat homines conscientia, si credamus nos in conspectu Dei vivere; si non tantum quae gerimus, videri desuper, sed etiam quae cogitamus, aut loquimur, audiri a Deo putemus. At enim prodest id credere, ut quidam putant, non veritatis gratia, sed utilitatis; quoniam leges conscientiam punire non possunt, nisi aliquis desuper terror impendeat ad cohibenda peccata. 91 ID 8.7b: Quod enim non metuitur, contemnitur: quod contemnitur, utique non colitur. Ita fit, ut religio, et maiestas, et honor metu constet: metus autem non est, ubi nullus irascitur. Sive igitur gratiam Deo, sive iram, sive utrumque detraxeris, religionem tolli necesse est, sine qua vita hominum stultitia, scelere, immanitate completur. 92 ID 8.10: Falsa est igitur omnis religio et divinitas nulla est. Sed a viris prudentibus universa conficta sunt, quo rectius innocentiusque vivatur. Magna haec, et a materia quam proposuimus aliena quaestio est: sed quia necessario incidit, debet quamvis breviter attingi. by Lactantius to have upheld the earliest (and true) opinions concerning divine providence, along with the Stoics and Peripatetics. The question of divine providence is reformulated as a choice between belief in a supreme God who ordered and rules the terrestrial world; one that sees the world’s existence as a product of Nature; and one that attributes the composition of the world to the random coming together of first principles. 93 What follows is for the most part a refutation of the latter two systems, which focuses on theories of atoms, as expounded by Lucretius, and the contradictory nature of the elements. Lactantius’ issue with each of these explanations is that they are neither seen nor touched, nor do they allow for an artificer. It is impossible for him to conceive of a world ‘made from nothing,’ and one that lacks divine providence, intelligence, and design. 94 All of these things stem from the divine mind, from which humans are endowed with reason, and it is the divine mind that has the capacity for reflection, from which motion and efficacy derive, both for God and for humans. 95 The existence of art and skill and reason necessitate the existence of an artificer and of divine providence, and of a system and a world which are governed by a reasoning, intelligent nature that can be nothing except for God. Having made the case for divine providence, Lactantius then establishes that there is only one God, for if there were many, ‘the divine energy and power [would] be distributed 34 93 ID 10 passim but especially concentrated arguments are at 10.13-18 and 10.27-31. 94 ID 10.33-34. 95 ID 10.36-38: ‘Si quid est, inquit Chrysippus, quod efficiat ea; quae homo, licet ratione sit praeditus, facere non possit, id profecto est maius, et fortius, et sapientius homine.’ Homo autem non potest facere coelestia; ergo illud, quod haec efficiet vel effecerit, superat hominem arte, consilio, prudentia, potestate. Quis igitur potest esse, nisi Deus? Natura vero, quam veluti matrem esse rerum putant, si mentem non habet, nihil efficiet unquam, nihil molietur. Ubi enim non est cogitatio, nec motus est ullus, nec efficacia. Si autem consilio utitur ad incipiendum aliquid, ratione ad disponendum, arte ad efficiendum, virtute ad consummandum, potestate ad regendum et continendum; cur natura potius quam Deus nominetur? among several [gods], [and] must necessarily be diminished.’ 96 He finds many philosophers, Greek and Roman, to have been the originators of false opinions about the existence of several gods, but singles out Euhemerus, Ennius, and Cicero, as ‘destroyers’ of the public religion. 97 These last figures, he reasons, though unable to see the truth, nonetheless were able to distinguish false things, since such things lack the support of reason. To further his point, Lactantius cites the most ancient source he can: Hermes Trismegistus, following that with a list of philosophers including Plato, Socrates, Pythagoras, Aristotle, and Zeno. This rebuttal culminates in the resounding declaration that all of these philosophers, regardless of the terminology with which they expressed the notion, believed in a supreme god. Yet the problem, according to Lactantius, is that none of these wise men ever thought this through, which is to say that they never thought about how one ought to worship and honor the supreme god. That no one thought about how to worship god stems from the fact that everyone held him to be ‘bounteous and incorruptible,’ from which belief our original problem resurfaces: if God is so good, he cannot be believed to be angry. 98 Lactantius’ argument here and in what follows is predicated on the correlation between worship and religion and 35 96 ID 11.1-3a: Quoniam constitit de providentia, sequitur ut doceamus, utrumne multorum esse credenda sit, potius unius. Satis (ut opinor) ostendimus in nostris Institutionibus, deos multos esse non posse; quod divina vis ac potestas si distribuatur in plures, diminui eam necesse sit: quod autem minuitur, utique et mortale est; si vero mortalis non est, nec minui, nec dividi potest. Deus igitur unus est, in quo vis et potestas consummata, nec minui potest, nec augeri... 97 ID 11.8-9: Quod cum vetustissimi Graeciae scriptores, quos illi theologos nuncupant, tum etiam Romani Graecos secuti et imitati docent; quorum praecipue Euhemerus ac noster Ennius, qui eorum omnium natales coniugia progenies inperia res gestas obitus sepulcra demonstrant. [9] Et secutus eos Tullius tertio De natura deorum libro dissolvit publicas religiones, sed tamen veram, quam ignorabat, nec ipse nec alius quisquam potuit inducere. 98 ID 11.16a: Sed tamen summum Deum, cum et philosophi, et poetae, et ipsi denique qui deos colunt, saepe fateantur; de cultu tamen et honoribus eius nemo unquam requisivit nemo disseruit; ea scilicet persuasione, qua semper beneficum incorruptumque credentes, nec irasci eum cuiquam, nec ullo cultu indigere arbitrantur. Adeo religio esse non potest, ubi metus nullus est. an understanding that religion itself has a basis in fear. 99 That is to say, if we begin from the premise that God is good and does not need worship, there is no religion (a) because religion is worship, and (b) because there is no reason to fear a god who cannot react to or against humans. The relationship between fear and religion (likewise wisdom and justice) is taken up again in the next, brief chapter (3c). Here Lactantius concludes that only the fear of God ensures the ‘mutual society of men,’ and further, that such fear exists only so long as man believes in God’s anger, and that he is moved and ‘indignant’ when he sees people commit unjust acts. 100 If this were not so, nothing would separate us from the beasts, for that which does - justice - would be removed. Lactantius then returns to his argument concerning the providence of God. Having already shown that the world was made by God, he now sets himself the task of explaining why it was made. 101 We find a catalogue of the earth’s many merits, spanning the use of fire and the sea, the many benefits of the sun and moon, of fields and animals. An imagined conversation between the Academics and the Stoics is presented, in which the former ask why God allowed for the existence of evil things, and to which the latter make a feeble reply. Lactantius finds his own answer far more satisfactory: God set evil things before humankind precisely because he endowed them with wisdom. How else could man discern evil and good unless he knew which is which? Evil is what demands man to exercise his 36 99 ID 11.16b: Adeo religio esse non potest, ubi metus nullus est. 100 ID 12.5: Timor igitur Dei solus est, qui custodit hominum inter se societatem, per quem vita ipsa sustinetur, munitur, gubernatur. Is autem timor auferetur, si fuerit homini persuasum, quod irae sit expers Deus; quem moveri et indignari, cum iniusta fiunt, non modo communis utilitas, sed etiam ratio ipsa nobis et veritas persuadet. Rursus nobis ad superiora redeundum est, ut quia docuimus a Deo factum esse mundum, doceamus quare sit effectus. 101 ID 13.1: Si consideret aliquis universam mundi administrationem, intelleget profecto quam vera sit sententia Stoicorum, qui aiunt nostra causa munum esse constructum. Omnia enin quibus constat quaeque generat ex se munud, ad utilitatem hominis accommodata sunt. This is a rare moment in which Lactantius agrees with the Stoics on a point. wisdom, allows him to choose, and provides for his (self-) reflection, understanding, and knowledge. 102 The Stoics were not able to see things from this angle, and the Epicurean argument also suffers on this account. Epicurus says, we are told, that God either wishes to remove evils and is unable, or that he is able and unwilling, or that he is neither willing nor able, or that he is both willing and able. 103 It follows that, if he is willing and unable, he is feeble; if he is able and unwilling, he is envious; if he is neither willing nor able, he is both envious and feeble - and none of these are characteristics that one can attribute to God. The final option, that he is both willing and able, is at first equally problematic, for if that is the case, then one wants to know the source of evil and (perhaps more importantly) why God does not then remove them. Lactantius dismisses this objection by stating that while God is capable of removing evils, he does not wish to do so - not because he is envious or weak, but because he gave humans wisdom, by virtue of which we may know God and acquire the knowledge to obtain immortality. 104 Even evil should be understood as an entity created for the sake of man for without it we would not be able to know the good. If all things were made by God for the sake of man, Lactantius continues, then we must understand why God made man. The answer to this is evident in man’s appearance, 37 102 ID 13.9: Sed Academici contra Stoicos disserentes solent quaerere, cur, si Deus omnia hominum causa fecerit, etiam multa contraria, et inimica, et pestifera nobis reperiantur, tam in mari, quam in terra. We will return to this, and the passage of which it is a part, below. 103 ID 13.20-21: (referring to his previous argument about God’s purpose for allowing both good and evil to exist) Quod si haec ratio vera est, quam Stoici nullo modo videre potuerunt, dissolvitur etiam illud argumentum Epicuri. Deus, inquit, aut vult tollere mala et non potest, aut potest et non vult, aut neque vult neque potest, aut et vult et potest. [21] Si vult et non potest, inbecillus est, quod in deum non cadit; si potest et non vult, invidus, quod aeque alienum est a deo; si neque vult neque potest, et invidus et inbecillus est ideoque nec deus; si et vult et potest, quod solum deo convenit, unde ergo sunt mala aut cur illa non tollit? The formulation of the problem as a series of either/or options with respective consequences follows the mode that Lactantius used to first approach the problem of divine anger (paired with kindness, above ID 2-5); it also reflects the traditional way of framing the debate over the problem of evil. 104 ID 13.23: idcirco enim non tollit, quia sapientiam (sicut edocui) simul tribuit, et plus est boni ac iucunditatis in sapientia, quam in malis molestiae. Sapientia enim facit, ut etiam Deum cognoscamus et per eam cognitionem immortalitatem assequamur; quod est summum bonum. with a countenance perched upon an upright body so that he may behold and contemplate his maker. In this view, man was made to worship God as his creator and as the giver of ‘such great gifts,’ and man ought likewise to honor his fellow man: because man was made for the sake of religion and justice, it is only right that man honor God and love man. 105 Any infraction of this order results in the dismantling of justice, divine and terrestrial, though the former is more important. If one fails to acknowledge God or treats another injuriously, he is acting contrary to his nature and thus disturbs the divine institution and law. 106 The problem of sin - of why man commits unjust acts if he is, in fact, ‘born to justice’ - is resolved by Lactantius in a manner similar to that of his explanation for the existence of evils. Just as good needs evil, just as two elements exist in nature which both oppose and connect with one another, so too are humans composed of two substances. The one, soul, is good and heavenly while the other, body, is earthly and it is to this that evil clings, and from it that evil deeds are committed. 107 Moving on, Lactantius again reiterates his basic argument for the anger of God (4), stating here that the existence of good and evil in mortal affairs necessitates that God must be moved both to favor when he sees the just and the good, and to anger when he sees the unjust and the evil. Again he addresses an imaginary Epicurus as an interlocutor, and argues against the notion that if God has the affections of anger and kindness, he must also have 38 105 ID 14.4a: Unde intellegimus religionis ac iustitiae causa esse hominem figuratam. 106 ID 14.5-6: Quod si est verissimum, Deus ergo vult omnes homines esse iustos, id est, Deum et hominem caros habere: Deum scilicet honorare tamquam patrem, hominem diligere velut fratrem; in his enim duobus tota iustitia consistit. Qui ergo aut Deum non agnoscit, aut homini nocet, iniuste et contra naturam suam vivit, et hoc modo rumpit institutum legemque divinam. 107 ID 15.3: Sic et nos ex duobus aeque repugnantibus conpacti sumus, anima et corpore, quorum alterum caelo ascribitur quia tenue est et intractabile, alterum terrae quia conprehensibilie est; alterum solidum et aeternum est, alterum fragile atque mortale. Ergo alteri bonum adhaeret, alteri malum, alteri lux vita iustitia, alteri tenebrae mors iniustitia. those of fear, desire, and grief. Lactantius relegates these affections to the realm of mankind; God cannot suffer from them because he ‘was never born,’ is not subject to dangers, wants, pain, death, or the need to reproduce. 108 Anger and pity, however, do have their ‘substance’ in God, and he ‘employs them for the preservation of the world’ (4a). 109 As Lactantius points out, we might be curious to know what that ‘substance’ is. Rather than explain it, however, he reiterates that God has ‘occasion’ to react against both the pious and impious as he sees fit, for it would not be right for the one to go unrewarded and the other unpunished. In fact, Lactantius argues that there is a sort of kindness in anger, for by taking vengeance upon the wicked, God is promoting the interests of the good. 110 Both anger and kindness are described as affections which belong to virtue, opposed to those which belong to vice (fear, envy, etc.), and each is an ‘emotion of the mind in God.’ 111 Pity again comes into play, as Lactantius attributes each emotion or affection to a specific group: anger for the wicked, favor for the good, and pity for the afflicted. 112 Here he notes that there is a bit of a problem, widely recognized by man, namely that it often happens that the good suffer while the wicked prosper, but despite this mention, he continues with the theme of God’s anger. 39 108 ID 15.7-11. 109 ID 15.12: At vero, et gratia, et ira, et miseratio habent in Deo materiam; recteque illis utitur summa illa et singularis potestas ad rerum conservationem. 110 ID 16.5: Non est enim fas eum, cum talia fieri videat, non moveri et insurgere ad ultionem sceleratorum et pestiferos nocentesque delere, ut bonis omnibus consulat. Adeo et in ipsa ira inest gratificatio. 111 ID 16.6: Inania ergo et falsa reperiuntur argumenta, vel eorum, qui, cum irasci Deum nolunt, gratificari volunt, quia ne hoc quidem fieri sine ira potest; vel eorum, qui nullum animi motum esse in Deo putant. 112 Each human action has an appropriate divine reaction; we shall look at this more closely in chapter three. Lactantius again takes up the Stoics and Epicureans as straw men, but devotes more of his criticism to a discussion of whether or not God is moveable (4b). 113 He takes issue with the Epicurean notion of a God who is always at rest, since the only proper rest is that of death, to which God is not susceptible. If God cannot die, he cannot be at rest, and so he must have an action, which consists of the administration of the world. 114 Lactantius further argues that the administrator of the world cannot be without care for human life and individual acts; because he desires that men be good and their actions just - what Lactantius calls the ‘divine law’ - God must be moved by anger when men break it. Those who would maintain that any and all punishment comes from a place of bitterness and malice are mistaken, insofar as they fail to see that the law, the judge, and the punishment are all just. ‘Just’ here, as elsewhere, is discussed in terms of the transgressor getting his due. Neither the system nor the administrator are injurious, but rather he who committed the crime. To illustrate his point, Lactantius again invokes the common analogy of the master and the slave. 115 In this scenario, the slave despises his master, seizes his goods, and insults him, and we are asked to question whether or not the master should (righteously) exact punishment from that slave. The world is the ‘house of God,’ and men his ‘slaves;’ it is ‘natural’ and ‘peculiar’ to God to become indignant at those who injure him. Lactantius sees anger (or ‘being angry’) as ‘the part of reason,’ through which justice and wisdom rule. 116 40 113 ID 17.8a: Libet quaerere ab his deum faciunt inmobilem ... 114 That God has action and movement is central to Lactantius’ idea of the divine nature, on which see pages 56-60 below with emphasis on the Ciceronain parallels. 115 Lactantius takes up this analogy three times in the treatise; twice with an anonymous ‘master’ and last using the classical model of Archytas of Tarentum (5.12-13; 17.8b-9; and 18.12). We shall examine Lactantius’ use of this analogy and its significance for his argument below in chapter two. 116 ID 17.11: Nam mundus tanquam Dei domus est, et homines tanquam servi: quibus si ludibrio sit nomen eius, qualis aut quanta patientia est, ut honoribus suis cedat, prava et iniqua fieri videat, et non indignetur, quod proprium et naturale est ei, cui peccata non placeant? Irasci ergo rationis est; auferuntur enim delicta, et refraenatur licentia, quod utique iuste sapienterque fit. This move furnishes Lactantius with the opportunity to draw a distinction between two kinds of anger: the just, which belongs above all to God, and the unjust, which belongs only to men. The Stoics, he points out, did not see such a distinction between right and wrong, and for this reason desired to remove it from ideals both human and divine. 117 This leads Lactantius to claim that many of the philosophers were incorrect in their understanding of the nature of anger, the Peripatetics, Seneca (along with the Stoics), Posidonius, and even Aristotle among them. We come closer to Lactantius’ own definition of anger as he lists and dismisses those of his predecessors. 118 According to Seneca, anger is ‘the desire of avenging an injury;’ Posidonius that it is described as the ‘desire of punishing him by whom you think that you have been unfairly injured;’ some that ‘anger is an incitement of the mind to injure him who either has committed an injury, or who has wished to do so;’ and Aristotle that ‘anger is the desire of requiting pain.’ 119 All of these definitions, Lactantius says, are of unjust anger, that anger which is found among men and beasts alike, is akin to revenge, and leads to the kind of rage that results in evil acts. A little further on, Lactantius also dismisses 41 117 ID 17.12: Sed Stoici non viderunt esse discrimen recti et pravi, esse iram iustam, esse et iniustam; et quia medellam rei non inveniebant, volverunt eam penitus excidere. Peripatetici vero non excidendam sed temperandam esse dixerunt; quobus in sext libro Institutionem statis respondimus. (See Divinae Institutiones 6.15.2 and 6.16.1.) 118 This takes place over ID 17.13-14. 119 ID 17.13-14: Nescisse autem philosophos, quae ratio esset irae, apparet ex definitionibus eorum, quas Seneca enumeravit in libris, quos de Ira composuit. «Ira est, inquit, cupiditas ulciscendae iniuriae. Alii, ut ait Posidonius, cupiditas puniendi eius, a quo te inique putes laesum.» Quidam ita definierunt: «Ira est incitatio animi ad nocendum ei qui, aut nocuit, aut nocere voluit.» Aristotelis definitio non multum a nostra abest. Ait enim iram esse cupiditatem doloris rependendi. Haec est ira, de qua superius diximus, iniusta; quae etiam mutis inest: in homine vero cohibenda est, ne ad aliquod maximum malum prosiliat per furorem. Haec in Deo esse non potest, quia illaesibilis est; in homine autem, quia fragilis est, invenitur. Cicero’s definition as too close to the others, for the notion that ‘anger is the desire of taking vengeance’ has more to do with fury than with the correction of vices. 120 Lactantius’ displeasure with these definitions is focused on their choice of words and terms to describe anger: they all involve injury, but since God cannot suffer injury, his anger is (or must be) of a different sort. 121 The desire for revenge is not equivalent to the punishment of offenders, rather one must employ just anger, not so much (as we might think) in the sense of a judge who is enforcing what the law prescribes, but rather in the sense (as above) of someone who is incited to restrain those in his power who have committed an offense against him. Under these circumstances, we ‘arise to take vengeance’ not because of injury (real or perceived), but for the preservation of discipline. 122 This just anger is not reserved to God alone, but it is necessary for him from whom we learn the correct example. Again Lactantius draws a distinction between anger driven by injury and that (the just) which is driven by fault or offense. And so we arrive at a definition: ‘anger is an emotion of the mind arousing itself for the restraining of faults.’ 123 Throughout his review and discussion of the definition(s) of anger, Lactantius takes care to note that anger, that is to say just anger, is natural both to man and to God (4c). In response to those who might ask why anger is necessary for the correction of faults (i.e. 42 120 ID 17.20: Nam definitio Ciceronis «Ira est libido ulciscendi,» non multum a superioribus distat. Ira autem, quam possumus vel furorem, vel iracundiam nominare, haec ne in homine quidem debet esse, quia tota vitiosa est. Ira vero, quae ad correctionem vitiorum pertinet, nec homini adimi debet, nec Deo potest, quia et utilis est rebus humanis, et necessaria. 121 On Lactantius’ use of definition as means of argument see chapter three, below pages 140-144. In this sense Lactantius upholds the belief in God’s incorruptability, thought he otherwise argues against it. His complex relationship with classical Greek philosophical ideas about the supreme god are discussed in the second and fourth chapters. 122 ID 17.17: Ergo surgimus ad vindictam; non quia laesi sumus, sed ut disciplina servetur, mores corrigantur, licentia comprimatur. 123 ID 17.20: Ergo definire debuerunt: Ira est motus animi ad coercenda peccata insurgentis. without affection), Lactantius returns to the distinction between offenses judged in the law- court and all the rest. If someone commits an offense out of the sight of the judge, that judge may reserve his anger and try the case only according to the guidelines set forth by the law. If, on the other hand, one sees or perceives that an offense has been committed (and here Lactantius again draws on the analogy of the household), he must be indignant, for no one can calmly see any one within his power committing an offense. Another trope from antiquity underscores his point: in a common anecdote, Archytas of Tarentum is praised for having let his slave escape punishment, stating that he would have beaten him to death had he not been angry. 124 Yet this is exactly the opposite of how one ought to behave, Lactantius informs us, and this should be an example of folly rather than of forbearance. To restrain anger in such a dire situation is neither wise nor equitable, and serves only to encourage the slave to commit similar offenses. The error in these and other such circumstances goes back to a mistaken conception of the nature of anger. Fury and rage should be avoided because of the consequences to which they might lead, but (just) anger would have been appropriately exercised by Archytas. A further difference comes to light as Lactantius distinguishes between acceptable targets of anger. He finds that Archytas would have been justly praised had he curbed his anger against an equal or a superior, but that his inaction is even more abominable because it occurred within the context of a relationship between master and slave. 125 The human relationship between superior and inferior persons is extended to that between God and humankind, although Lactantius is careful to say that the Stoics, who maintain that God has no figure 43 124 We shall return to the figure of Archytas below, pages 94-96. 125 ID 18.9: Quod si naturam rerum causasque didicisset, numquam tam inportunam continentiam profiteretur, ut nequam servus iratum sibi fuisse domonum gratularetur. See also chapter three below, pages 94-100. (figura) and no form (forma) would disagree. 126 Although both anger and justice are ‘imbued’ in man by God, man easily gives in to vice because he is made of the divine but is derived from the earth. This division between soul and body serves to remind us that the good and the virtuous adhere to the soul, while the evil and the vicious adhere to the body, and further that God loves the just and hates the wicked. Nor should one assume, Lactantius continues, that because there is a ‘fixed reward’ for the good (or punishment for the wicked), even those who live ‘justly and innocently’ (we are returned to the philosophers, on the second step) can escape ‘with impunity,’ since either way God is despised, either by action or by neglect. 127 Legal terminology is again employed to make the point clear, for by despising God, one despises the law as well as the lawgiver. In this scenario, even the judge lacks the power to pardon offenses, subject as he is to a power above himself; God however can pardon, as the ‘arbitrator and judge’ of his own law. 128 Lactantius extends the master and slave analogy to explain why it is often the case that the sinful prosper while the pious are wretched. Here it is the discipline of living ‘under a father or master’ that holds the good to a more severe way of life. In addition, even though God is moved to anger in the here and now, one ought not to forget that such punishment may be encountered in the next life. God’s control of his anger gives him the 44 126 That Lactantius expresses reluctance to enter a discussion about the corporeality of God suggests that here too his view differed from most. 127 ID 19.7-8: Quod si aliquis iuste innocenterque vivat, et idem Deum nec colat, nec curet omnino, ut Aristides, ut Aristides et Timon, caeterique philosophorum, cedetne huic impune, quod cum legi Dei obtemperarit, ipsum tamen spreverit? Est igitur aliquid, propter quod Deus possit irasci, tanquam fiducia integritatis adversus eum rebellanti. Si huic potest irasci propter superbiam, cur non magis peccatori, qui legem cum ipso pariter latore contempserit? 128 ID 19.9: Iudex peccatis veniam dare non potest, quia voluntati servit alienae. Deus autem potest, quia est legis suae ipse disceptator et iudex: quam cum poneret, non utique ademit sibi omnem potestatem, sed habet ignoscendi licentiam. The figure of the judge comes to take on a special role in the treatise, as will be shown in the fifth chapter of this study. freedom to restrain or postpone it, in fact, Lactantius claims, if God did not avail himself of such patience, and instead punished every offensive act, most of the people in the world would already be dead. 129 In contrast to the public laws, which condemn only those offenders whose actions are manifest and known, God sees everything and is capable of punishing everyone. We are reminded again that an offense against God does not always necessarily denote a concrete act, but can also include neglecting to worship him or worshipping other (created) gods. In short, although punishment might not immediately come, it will in the end. Moving on from this discussion, Lactantius takes up what he sees as the last remaining question to which he must respond, concerning how it is that God is so far from anger that he even forbids men to be angry. He toys with the idea of re-hashing the difference between mortal and divine anger, but shifts our attention instead to the fact that God is eternal. Unlike our rage, God’s anger lasts forever, exercising it when needed but otherwise restraining it in his perfect virtue. What God really meant by the injunction to suppress anger is that mortals ought not to persevere in anger. Further proof of this is found in creation itself: the very fact that God placed anger in mortals and that he made it a necessary emotion should instruct us not to excise anger, but rather to curb it in such a way as to preserve moderation and justice. Above all, one must look to the model of God, who regulates his just anger (rather than be ruled by it) and who is appeased not by the offering of victims or the burning of incense, but by a true ‘reformation of the morals.’ 130 45 129 ID 20.3-4: Exitus est qui arguit felicitatem et nemo iudicium dei potest nec vivus effugere nec mortuus. Habet enim potestatem et vivos praecipitare de summo et mortuos aeternis adficere cruciatibus. [4] -- Immo, inquit, si irascitur deus, statim debuit vindicare et pro merito quemque punire. -- At enim si id faceret, nemo superesset! Nullus est enim qui nihil peccet et multa sunt quae ad peccandum inritent: aetas vinolentia egestas occasio praemium. 130 ID 21.10: Itaque deus non ture, non hostia, non pretiosis muneribus, quae omnia sunt corruptibilia, sed morum emendatione placatur; et qui peccare desinit, iram dei mortalem facit. In the next to last chapter of the text (5), Lactantius addresses Donatus a second time, informing him that he has instructed his audience in how to ‘refute those who represent God as being without emotions.’ 131 He tells us that he is imitating Cicero in his composition of an ‘epilogue’ by way of peroratio. Here he cites the Tusculan Disputations as his model but rather than offer divine testimony about death, Lactantius seeks instead to provide a series of Sibyline oracles about the anger of God. His aim, as throughout the text, is to change the persuasion of those who argue that God is without anger, and who, by so doing, destroy religion, here defined as the ‘knowledge of the Supreme God’ - it is in religion alone in which wisdom consists. 132 For the first time in the treatise, Lactantius makes direct reference to a source other than the classical philosophers: the prophets, who ‘speak nothing else than of the favor of God towards the righteous, and his anger against the ungodly.’ 133 Lactantius’ audience, however, puts little stake in these and so he will provide instead the sayings of the Sibyl, which they can believe - or, at the least, not oppose. What follows is a list of such quotations, each having to do with the supreme god and his anger against those who sin or act unjustly. Lactantius mentions the Erythraean Sibyl and the Cumaean Sibyls by name, but lumps the rest together without any demarcation other than ‘another Sibyl,’ and quotes a line from Ovid. 134 Yet again Lactantius summarizes his argument that the philosophers have missed the mark, and more importantly, that anger 46 131 ID 22.1: Haec habui, quae de ira Dei dicerem, Donate charissime; ut scires quemadmodum refelleres eos qui Deum faciunt immobilem. Restat, ut more Ciceronis utamur epilogo ad perorandum. 132 ID 22.2: ...ut illorum persuasionem revincamus, qui sine ira Deum esse credentes, dissolvunt omnem religionem: sine qua, ut ostendimus, aut immanitate belluis, aut stultitia pecudibus adaequamur; in sola enim religione, id est, in Dei summi notione sapientia est. 133 ID 22.3: Prophetae universi divino Spiritu repleti nihil aliud, quam de gratia Dei erga iustos, et de ira eius adversus impios loquuntur. Quorum testimonia nobis quidem satis sunt: verum iis quoniam non credunt isti, qui sapientiam capillis et habitu iactant, ratione quoque et argumentis fuerant a nobis refellendi. 134 ID 22.7-8; 23.3-8, 23.12. and fear are necessary for good governing (earthly or heavenly). It is worth noting here that, for the first time in the text, Lactantius draws a parallel to a figure other than that of the master: that of the king. Unless the ‘earthly kingdom and government’ is ‘guarded by fear,’ it will break down, and Lactantius argues that if anger is removed from a king, he will no longer be obeyed, those inferior to him will deride and injure him. 135 The relationship between government, fear, and anger is further developed: if no one submits to another except by compulsion, then all government exists by fear, and fear itself [exists] by anger. Lactantius argues this from a slightly different angle: if someone is not ‘aroused’ against one who is unwilling to obey, it is not possible for him (the unwilling) to be compelled to obey - where there is no anger, there is no authority (and since God certainly has authority, he then must also have anger). It is with this point repeated and with an exhortation to live life justly, piously, and with God that the text ends. Our survey of the text offers some indication of the extent to which Lactantius presented the ‘philosophers’ (as he construes them) generally and the Stoics and Epicureans specifically as his opponents in the debate over divine wrath. The use and attribution of philosophical arguments offer important evidence for the doxographic tradition that, although it cannot be fully treated here, merits our consideration. One way of approaching this issue is to take into account Lactantius’ methodology for the citation of his sources. For the moment this discussion will be limited to his engagement with the philosophers and Cicero, although we will have occasion to return to this topic later in the essay. The question 47 135 ID 23.9-11: Ex his apparet vanas esse rationes philosophorum, qui Deum putant sine ira; et inter caeteras laudes eius id ponunt, quod est inutilissimum, detrahentes ei, quod est rebus humanis maxime salutare, per quod constat ipsa maiestas. Regnum hoc imperiumque terrenum nisi metus custodiat, solvitur. Aufer iram regi, non modo nemo parebit, sed etiam de fastigio praecipitabitur. Imo vero cuilibet humili eripe hunc affectum, quis eum non spoliabit? quis non deridebit? quis non afficiet iniuria? Ita nec indumenta, nec sedem, nec victum poterit habere, aliis quidquid habuerit diripientibus; nedum putemus coelestis imperii majestatem sine ira et metu posse consistere. of citation is one that involves both a consideration of the texts that Lactantius would have had at his disposal when he wrote the treatise as well as those which he would have had either committed to memory or quoted or otherwise paraphrased in some ‘commonplace’ book that he could have carried with him throughout his many travels. 136 Much attention has been paid to Lactantius’ use of earlier authors in the Divinae Institutiones. 137 There is a general consensus that Lactantius did not have access to the texts of, for example, Plato, Aristotle, and Plutarch (he never quotes any of the Greek historians), a situation due both to his travels and the paucity of the libraries in the cities in which he resided for some years at a time, namely Trier and Nicomedia. 138 His quotations of Greek material can often be traced or ascribed to either an anthology or compendium, or to transmission through a Latin source. In some cases, this later source is another one of the apologists; so for example in the case of the Sibylline and Hermetic writings, Lactantius turned to Tertullian and 48 136 On these sorts of portable sources and notebooks in later antiquity with some discussion of the ancient world see Suzanne Reynolds, ‘Reading and the Trivium Arts,’ in eadem Medieval Reading: Grammar, Rhetoric, and the Classical Text. Cambridge University Press, 1996, 17-44. 137 All of it, for that matter, and to the best of my knowledge is about the Divine Institutes, with only mentions of and cross-references to the other treatises. For a brief survey of Lactantius’ familiarity with Greco-Roman authors (of all genres), see Ogilvie (1978). For a focused study on the relationship between the Divinae Institutiones and Cicero see Bryce’s (1990) work of the same name, the first half of the text takes on Cicero and the second takes us through Lactantius’ use of Lucretius and Virgil, but again, mostly in the Divinae Institutiones. (It is an unfortunate coincidence that both books have the same title; Bryce’s 1990 version is essentially his dissertation, with index locorum and a preface in which he addresses the issue of Ogilvie’s title.) While these volumes serve well as guides, general and specific, to the works that Lactantius presumably would have read, a more complex account of the manner in which Lactantius cited these works is discussed, as a case- study, by John Glucker, ‘Probabile, Veri Simile, and Related Terms,’ in J.G.F. Powell (ed.), Cicero the Philosopher. Oxford: Clarendon, 1995, 115-144. It is not nothing that these explorations are couched within Ciceronian studies: see also Jonathan Barnes, ‘Antiochus of Ascalon,’ in Jonathan Barnes and Miriam Griffin, eds., Philosophia Togata. Oxford: Clarendon, 1989, 51-96; A.A. Long, ‘Cicero’s Plato and Aristotle,’ in Powell (1995) op cit. 37-62 and, in the same volume, J.G.F. Powell, ‘Introduction: Cicero’s Philosophical Works and Their Background,’ 1-36 for how Cicero negotiated his own sources and the problem of dissecting the philosphical sects in scholarship ancient and contemporary. 138 On his travels, see above, Introduction, 2-4; on the state of the libraries see Ogilvie (1978), 5 and 109, with notes. It is most likely that Lactantius knew some of the works he quotes by heart, and that he had some kind of compendium with him on his journeys. Theophilus of Antioch, among others. At other times, Lactantius incorporates an anecdote that is so commonplace as to have no discernible origin, but is understood to have been in wide circulation. As far as Latin poetry is concerned, Lactantius mentions several poets by name, Lucretius, Ennius, Ovid, and Virgil among them. 139 Whether or not he had read their texts first-hand is another matter, and again there is some debate over the manner in which he encountered them, either through other sources or as texts in their own right. 140 Thus Cicero and others become more important as sources for Lactantius’ quotations of some authors, Plautus and Lucan for example, but for others, such as Lucretius, it is likely that Lactantius did in fact have a manuscript which he could consult. 141 Lactantius’ reliance upon Cicero, however, is greater than this; the apologist frequently quotes from Ciceronian speeches and philosophical works. He also refers to Seneca and to the texts of other apologists and, in the Divinae Institutiones at least, occasionally to biblical material. 142 So much for what Lactantius may or may not have read. When it comes to the actual quotation of these authors, he adopts one of two positions. The first is to introduce a statement as coming from the author himself. Generally such pronouncements are indicated 49 139 In the Divinae Institutiones he names: Cicero, Ennius, Germanicus, Horace, Juvenal, Lucan, Lucretius, Naevius, Ovid, Persius, Plautus, Propertius, Terence, and Virgil (Ogilvie 1978, 7). 140 Through another source: Ogilvie (1978); on their own: Bryce (1990). 141 Ogilvie (1978) 7-19; in at least two places in the Divinae Insitutiones, Lactantius preserves an earlier reading of the Lucretian text. 142 On Lactantius’ use of biblical material generally see Pierre Monat, Lactance et la Bible. Une propédeutique latine à la lecture de la Bible dans l'Occident constantinien. Volume I: texte. Volume II: notes (=Collection des Études Augustiniennes 89-90) Paris 1982. Lactantius’ relationship to the Bible shall be discussed in some detail in the next chapter, see especially pages 91-115. by the words inquit, dixit or some such before the quotation itself. 143 Whether or not Lactantius quotes an author faithfully or accurately in these circumstances can be too difficult to determine; for some excerpts Lactantius is our only source of lines that would have been otherwise lost and for which no points for comparison exist. Without dispensing with the possibility (and surely sometimes the certainty) that his quotation or paraphrase of an author had ulterior motives, it remains plausible that in many instances, he either thought he was providing an accurate transcription of the text or that he intentionally and purposefully altered words or phrases in order to achieve a desired effect, stylistic or connotative. 144 A second method that Lactantius employs is more subtle, and involves the implicit reference to a text: he may not digress to tell the reader that he is weaving in some bits and pieces of a Senecan text, but the informed, educated audience of the text ought to be aware of these textual layers and resonances. 145 Such strategies of integrating and rebutting the Classical tradition are also used in De ira Dei. In this text we find references in one form or another to Plato, Aristotle, Chrysippus, Zeno, Euhemerus, Ennius, Epicurus, Seneca, Virgil, Lucretius, Xenophon, Plutarch, Ovid, Terence, the Sibyilline oracles, and most of all, Cicero. 146 Of the Ciceronian 50 143 Glucker (1999), 68; see also his more general statement that ‘The best one can say so far is that Lactantius is erratic in his ascription of philosophical views; that sometimes he is accurate in ascribing a view to a philosopher or to a speaker in a Ciceronian dialogue, but often he ascribes whatever he has found in the Ciceronian work (or had copied into his commonplace book) to Cicero himself, sometimes even conflating things said by different speakers in two very different works.’ (69) 144 Bryce (1990) shows this in the case of Divinae Institutiones and a number of Cicero’s texts. In so doing he also acknowledges that he is working within a tradition of scholarship on Lactantius, in which one finds the quotation from a previous author or source, lines it up with the text of Lactantius, then comments on it. This is, in part, the objective of the current chapter, but the reader should be made aware that this process has not yet been carried out with De ira Dei. 145 As we shall see in the next chapter, the careful deployment of source material and ideas familiar to a specific constituent of his audience was a method that Lactantius also adopted with regard to biblical texts. 146 For an index of the ancient (non-biblical) texts and passages thereof mentioned or referenced in ID, see Ingremeau (1982) 383-409. texts that Lactantius uses, De Natura Deorum is by far the most influential, and used most clearly in his discussions and refutations of the philosophical schools. These quotations and paraphrases are clustered in five chapters of De ira Dei, specifically those that take up questions concerning the affections of God (4), religion (8), divine providence (9), the origin of the world (10), the existence of God and his providence (11), and the creation of the world for man’s benefit (13). Other elements of the Ciceronian text are evident to a lesser extent in Lactantius’ proof of the opinion that God created man and in his catalogue of early definitions of anger. Each of these chapters serves a particular purpose in proving Lactantius’ point that God does indeed get angry and sheds light on his process of thinking through this problem. 147 Despite Lactantius’ occasional disregard for Ciceronian ideas, the treatise often looks to Cicero’s De Natura Deorum for the expression and articulation of theological ideas that both support Lactantius’ claims and give him fodder for his rebuttals of the Stoics and Epicureans. Indeed, even the selection of these two philosophical sects suggests a notional imitation of the Ciceronian work. A few brief notes about De Natura Deorum will lay the groundwork for a discussion of the parallels and discrepancies between the two texts. Written like other of Cicero’s philosophical treatises in the last two years of his life, De Natura Deorum was intended to serve two functions. The first of these was to introduce the philosophies of Greece to the Roman world, and the second, of greater importance, to come to a consensus with regard to a set of theological questions, by which both the character and the possibility of religion - and consequently, for Cicero, morality - were determined. Chief among his concerns was that the supreme god be one who cares about humankind; by this criterion he dismisses the views of both the Epicureans and the Stoics 51 147 The topic of Lactantius’ argumentation is explored in chapter three. and aligns himself with the Academics. The substance of the discourse, however, lends itself to a less definite sense of Cicero’s convictions, as he often relies on arguments of consensus and probability to decide a point. Divided into three books, the work consists of a conversation between Gaius Aurelius Cotta, Gaius Velleius, and Quintus Lucilius Balbus, each of whom argues the case of a certain philosophical school: Cotta represents the Academics, Velleius the Epicureans, and Balbus the Stoics. In the first book, Velleius attacks the Stoic and Platonic theologies, paying special attention to questions of the creation of the universe and the motives of the creator; the picture of God that results is of a perfectly happy eternal being who possesses reason. The Stoics control the discussion in Book 2, as Balbus sets out to prove the existence of the divine along with the providential ordering of the universe and the providential care of man. Through the course of the exposition of the last of these arguments, he marshals as evidence such things as astronomy, animal and vegetable life, and the physiology of man, only briefly mentioning the problem of evil. Although approximately one-third of the third book is missing (having to do with the providential government of the universe and, in part, the care of the gods for men) in what remains Cotta launches an attack against the Stoic doctrine of the providential care for man. This largely consists of an argument against a divine justice and the value of reason as a good gift. Cotta finishes up by saying that his only aim is to illustrate the difficulty involved in acquiring any direct knowledge of the gods; the book ends with Cicero’s statement of preference for Balbus’ exposition. There can be little doubt that Lactantius read and was very familiar with Cicero’s text. 148 The two treatises share, in part, a similar method: as Cicero turns to the Greek 52 148 For concise summary and bibliography, see Ingremeau (1982) 43 and Pichon (1901) 191-193. philosophical schools to come to a consensus about the nature of the gods, so too does Lactantius turn to Cicero to formulate a Christian understanding about the nature of the supreme God. In so doing, both authors imbue their texts (to differing degrees in each case) with inaccuracies, inconsistencies, and contradictions. Both are relying on a series of statements and opinions, as represented in written form, that are static and fixed despite changes and developments over time and across cultures. Thus Cicero’s recapitulation, for example, of Epicurean doctrines as voiced through Velleius are problematic in their own right, and are further problematized both by Cicero’s use and by Lactantius’ repetition of them through his reading of Cicero. Sorting through the many strata of doctrinal points and variations is an undertaking in its own right, and in the end the differences that exist are perhaps not as important as the fact that Lactantius selected certain arguments for refutation. Whether or not the Epicureans, for example, thought that God cared nothing for the lives of humans may be of little or no consequence, but what is significant for our interpretation of the text is that Lactantius established the school and its adherents as opponents against whom he formed his own argument. 149 The first such instance that we shall examine is also the first moment at which Lactantius incorporates De Natura Deorum into the treatise. Lactantius begins his attack on the Epicureans in chapter four, and takes as his starting point a paraphrase of De Natura Deorum 1.45. In the Ciceronian text, Velleius, having established that the gods do exist, argues that they are ‘blessed and eternal’ (beatos et immortales). If this is indeed true, he 53 149 It is not that Epicureans are unimportant, or that Lactantius’ possible (or, probable) misconstrual of their arguments are not worth study (and they have been; see e.g., Harvey 2003), but rather that one aim of this study is to move away from the kind of Quellenforschung so easily born out of a desire to elucidate the relative correctness and accuracy of Lactantius’ claims. continues, god can know no trouble, cause no trouble to others, and must therefore be unaffected by anger or favor, since these would be signs of weakness: As I was saying, then, we have this prior notion causing us to believe that the gods are blessed and immortal; for just as nature has bestowed on us the concept of gods themselves, so also she has etched the notion on our minds to make us believe that they are eternal and blessed. If this is the case, the dictum expounded by Epicurus is true: “What is blessed and immortal neither is troubled itself, nor causes trouble to its neighbour; thus it is gripped by neither anger nor partiality, for all such attitudes are a mark of weakness.” If our aim was merely to worship the gods devotedly and to free ourselves from superstition, we would need to say nothing more; the pre- eminent nature of the gods would be venerated by the devotion of mankind because it is both eternal and truly blessed, for reverence is rightly accorded to all that is supreme. Moreover, all fear of the gods would have been excised, through our awareness that anger and partiality are remote from the gods’ blessed and immortal nature. Once these misapprehensions are banished, no fears of the gods loom over us. 150 The version of the argument that Lactantius transmits to us is similar, to a point: What follows is about the school of Epicurus: just as there is no anger in God, so too there surely is no kindness. For since Epicurus thought that to do evil and to harm, which generally arises from the affection of anger, was inconsistent with God, he also withdrew beneficence from him, since he saw that it follows that if God has anger, he also has kindness. And thus, lest he concede a vice to him, he made him devoid of virtue. ‘Because of this,’ he said, ‘God is happy and uncorrupted, since he neither cares for nothing, nor himself has trouble nor causes it for anyone else.’ Therefore he is not God, if he is not moved, which is peculiar to the living, nor does 54 150 This and the remaining translations of De Natura Deorum are from the following text: P .G. Walsh, trans. Cicero: On the Nature of the Gods (Oxford 1998). ND 1.45: Hanc igitur habemus, ut deos beatos et inmortales putemus. Quae enim nobis natura informationem ipsorum deorum dedit, eadem insculpsit in mentibus, ut eos aeternos et beatos haberemus. Quod si ita est, vere eita illa sententia est ab Epicuro, quod beatum aeternumque sit, id nec habere ipsum negotii quicquam nec exhibere alteri, itaque neque ira neque gratia teneri, quod, quae talia essent, inbecilla essent omnia. Si nihil aliud quaereremus, nisi ut deos pie coleremus et ut superstitione liberaremur, satis erat dictum; nam et praestans deorum natura hominum pietate coleretur, cum et aeterna esset et beatissima (habet enim venerationem iustam, quicquid excellit), et metus omnis a vi atque ira deorum pulsus esset; intellegitur enim a beata inmortalique natura et iram et gratiam segregari; quibus remotis nullos a superis inpendere metus. Sed ad hanc confirmandam opinionem anquirit animus et formam et vitam et actionem mentis atque agitationem in deo. anything impossible for man, which is peculiar to a god, if he has no will, no action, in short, no administration which is worthy of God. 151 Lactantius takes the basic idea asserted by Velleius - that God cannot be affected by anger or kindness - but changes the wording in two notable ways. First, where Velleius uses aeternos or inmortales to describe the gods, Lactantius uses instead the adjective incorruptus, setting the stage for his criticism of the Epicurean conception of anger as a vice. In the second place, Velleius describes God as ‘held’ (teneri) by anger, while Lactantius writes about anger as something that is in God (ira in Deo). These, and similar, slight changes in language might merely be explained as differences in the vocabulary of emotions over the centuries that separate the two authors. Yet they provide some clues as to how Lactantius conceived of divine emotions and specifically of divine anger (and, later, kindness). Anger here is not something by which God is held, but rather anger is something that is a part of his being. 152 It is also worth noting that Lactantius underhandedly gives Epicurus some credit, writing that even he saw that both anger and kindness go together. 153 Beyond these differences in language, this passage is also programmatic for Lactantius. In the Ciceronian text, we are presented with Velleius’ exposition of Epicurean doctrine, and in it we find the relevance of nature, divine impassibility, worship, and fear of God to one another. Lactantius does not give us any overt sign that his own re-working of 55 151 ID 4.1-3: Quod sequitur, de schola Epicuri est; sicut iram in Deo non esse, ita nec gratiam quidem. Nam cum putaret Epicurus, alienum esse a Deo malefacere atque nocere, quod ex affectu iracundiae plerumque nascitur, ademit ei etiam beneficentiam, quoniam videbat consequens esse, ut si habeat iram Deus, habeat et gratiam. Itaque ne illi vitium concederet, etiam virtutis fecit expertem. Ex hoc, inquit, beatus et incorruptus est, quia nihil curat, neque habet ipse negotium, neque alteri exhibet. Deus igitur non est, si nec movetur, quod est proprium viventis: nec facit aliquid impossibile homini, quod est proprium Dei, si omnino nullam habet voluntatem, nullum actum, nullam denique administrationem, quae Deo digna sit. 152 As we will see later in the study, it is theologically problematic to speak of something (anything) as ‘part of ’ God’s being, whether one has in mind the supreme god or the Christian God. 153 ID 4: Videbat consequens esse, ut si habeat iram Deus, habeat et gratiam. This will become important for Lactantius’ argument later on, as he seeks to establish that one can remove neither anger nor kindness (individually) from God, but can only attribute neither or both. this argument comes from De Natura Deorum, and in fact (and as an example of the second method of citation noted above) he credits the belief in a general way to the schola Epicuri. What we have then is Lactantius setting up what he thinks is the Epicurean doctrine about the anger of God, presumably based on what he had read in Cicero and possibly other sources that contained such broad doctrinal statements. 154 The matter becomes further complicated when we take into account that Cicero himself was reacting to an idea of Epicurus and of an Epicurean doctrine that were different not only from what we know of them, but also from what Lactantius knew in the early fourth century, and from whatever they may originally have been. 155 Matters of transmission aside, Lactantius follows the Ciceronian text and rounds out the passage with a further inquiry into the nature of God. Velleius in De Natura Deorum is made to admit that if it is true that God exists, then ‘the mind looks for form and life, and for action of the mind and agitation in God.’ 156 Lactantius’ take on the question is negatively phrased: this cannot be God, if he is neither moved (since this is peculiar to a living being) nor does anything impossible for man (since this is peculiar to God) - in short, if he has neither will nor action nor administration. 157 This leads Lactantius to further refutations of Epicurus, this time more clearly relying on Cotta’s reply to Velleius at the end of De Natura Deorum Book 1, part of which runs as follows: 56 154 Cf. Harvey (2003) and Glucker (1991), op. cit. ns. 75 and 137. 155 For philosophical schools in Cicero’s day, see Powell (1995). On the question of what and whom Cicero knew (and how and to what extent), see Barnes (1989), Glucker (2002), Long (1995), and Sedley (1989). 156 ND 1.45: anquirit animus et formam et vitam et actionem mentis atque agitationem in deo. 157 ID 4.3: Deus igitur non est, si nec movetur, quod est proprium viventis: nec facit aliquid impossibilie homini, quod est proprium Dei, si monino nullam habet voluntatem, nullum actum, nullam deique administrationem, quae Deo digna sit. You object that Epicurus too wrote a book on reverence. The man makes sport with us, though he is not so much a wit as one undisciplined with the pen. How can there be reverence if the gods take no thought for human affairs? How can a nature be invested with life, yet remain wholly insensitive? So undoubtedly closer to the truth is the claim made in the fifth book of his Nature of the Gods by Posidonius, whose friendship we all share: that Epicurus does not believe in any gods, and that the statements which he made affirming the immortal gods were made to avert popular odium. He could not have been such an idiot as to fashion God on the lines of a poor human, even if merely in broad outline and not in substantial appearance, yet endowed with all the human limbs but without the slightest use of them, an emaciated, transparent being conferring no gifts or kindness on anyone, and in short discharging no duties and performing no actions. First, such a nature cannot exist. In his awareness of this, Epicurus in actuality discards the gods, while paying lip- service to them. 158 Lactantius begins by stating that if God cares for nothing, he has lost his divinity, telling us that ‘Cicero relates what Posidonius said’ about the matter: But if he cares for nothing, foresees nothing, he loses all divinity. What else does he say, who removes all power, all substance, from God, except that there is no God at all? In short, Marcus Tullius relates that it was said by Posidonius, that Epicurus understood that there were no gods, but that he said those things which he spoke respecting the gods for the sake of driving away odium; and so that he leaves the gods in words, but takes them away in reality, since he gives them no motion, no office. 159 There is an implicit parallel in the criticisms of the (nominally) Epicurean view of a God who cares for nothing (and no one) as one that strips the divinity of all things that make him divine, rendering him inanimate and powerless. Lactantius also flags his use of the text, writing that Cicero related that Posidonius said that Epicurus ‘left the gods in words’ while 57 158 ND 1.123: Ludimur ab homine non tam faceto quam ad scribendi licentiam libero. Quae enim potest esse sanctitas, si dii humana non curant, quae autem animans natura nihil curans? Verius est igitur nimirum illud, quod familiaris omnium nostrum Posidonius disseruit in libro quinto de natura deorum, nullos esse deos Epicuro videri, quaeque is de deis inmortalibus dixerit invidiae detestandae gratia dixisse; neque enim tam desipiens fuisset, ut homunculi similem deum fingeret, liniamentis dum taxat extremis, non habitu solido, membris hominis praeditum omnibus usu membrorum ne minimo quidem, exilem quendam atque perlucidum, nihil cuiquam tribuentem, nihil gratificantem, omnino nihil curantem, nihil agentem. Quae natura primum nulla esse potest, idque videns Epicurus re tollit, oratione relinquit deos. 159 ID 4.6-7: Sed si nihil curat, nihil providet, amisit omnem divinitatem. Qui ergo totam vim, totam Deo substantiam tollit, quid aliud dicit, nisi Deum omnino non esse? Denique Marcus Tullius a Posidonio dictum refert, id Epicurum sensisse, nullos deos esse, sed ea, quae de diis locutus sit, depellendae invidiae causa dixisse: itaque verbis illum deos relinquere, re autem ipsa tollere, quibus nullum motum, nullum tribuit officium. he ‘removed them in reality.’ 160 The end result, in both cases, is a crisis of one sort or another: epistemic for Cotta, since an uncaring God means an end to sanctitas; existential for Lactantius, since it marks an end to God ([dicit] Deum omnino non esse). Although the possibility of an uncaring God is initially problematic for Lactantius because it takes away one of his defining qualities, it also has ramifications on a human level. Here, in our third example, we find echoes of the preceding paraphrase of De Natura Deorum, as well as 1.115-116: What reason can you offer that man should worship the gods, when the gods not merely show no regard for men, but take absolutely no responsibility or action of any kind? “But their nature is in some sense so outstanding and preeminent that of its very self it must entice the philosopher to worship it.” Yet how can there be anything outstanding in the nature which takes joy in its own pleasure, and whose existence - past, present, and future - is one of total inactivity? Moreover, what devotion is the due of one from whom we have received nothing, or what can possibly be owed to one who has not deserved well of us? Piety means giving the gods their due; but what religious law can we follow, when humans and gods have no common bond? Religious observance is expertise in divine worship, but I fail to understand why the gods should be worshipped if we neither obtain nor anticipate any blessing from them. 161 Cotta reiterates his argument against the Epicurean notion of a god who is removed and untroubled by regard for mankind, positing here that nothing of a ‘supremely excellent nature’ can languish in its own self without performing any action. To believe in such a god 58 160 See also ND 1.85. Here we have one example of Lactantius directly quoting his source, although the fact that ‘Cicero’ here is really ‘Cotta’ is not addressed, and that this is something said, apparently, by Posidonius is also left unexplored. Nor is Lactantius unaware of the fact that a speaker exists, on which see Glucker (2002) 69: ‘The best one can say so far is that Lactantius is erratic in his ascriptions of philosophical views; that sometimes he is accurate in ascribing a view to a philosopher or to a speaker in a Ciceronian dialogue, but often he ascribes whatever he has found in the Ciceronian work (or had copied in his commonplace book) to Cicero himself, sometimes even conflating things said by different speakers in two very different works.’ 161 Quid est enim, cur deos ab hominibus colendos dicas, cum dei non modo homines non colant, sed omnino nihil curent, nihil agant? [116] "At est eorum eximia quaedam praestansque natura, ut ea debeat ipsa per se ad se colendam elicere sapientem." An quicquam eximium potest esse in ea natura, quae sua voluptate laetans nihil nec actura sit umquam neque agat neque egerit? Quae porro pietas ei debetur, a quo nihil acceperis, aut quid omnino, cuius nullum meritum sit, ei deberi potest? Est enim pietas iustitia adversum deos; cum quibus quid potest nobis esse iuris, cum homini nulla cum deo sit communitas? Sanctitas autem est scientia colendorum deorum; qui quam ob rem colendi sint, non intellego nullo nec accepto ab his nec sperato bono. is nonsense, since no piety is owed to a being from whom one does not receive anything, and moreover that piety itself cannot exist if man has no community with god. Lactantius picks up this question of piety and asks whether one who believes in an uncaring god thinks that no worship (aliquem cultum) is due to God, or if he instead overturns religion: When he says these things, does he think that any worship ought to be bestowed to God, or does he overturn all religion? For if God bestows nothing good on anyone, if he repays the obedience of the one worshipping him with no kindness, what is so empty, so foolish, as to build temples, to offer sacrifices, to confer gifts, to diminish our houshold affairs, so that we may gain nothing? 162 The argument is the same: if God neither confers good nor rewards the worshipper, there is no point in worship. Lactantius follows this statement with a direct quotation from De Natura Deorum 1.124: if god really is of this sort, so that he is held neither by favor nor by affection for man, farewell - for why should I say ‘may he be propitious,’ since he cannot be propitious to anyone? 163 In the end, Lactantius decides that Epicurus has in fact overturned all religion, and in doing so recalls an assertion from the beginning of De Natura Deorum. Cicero’s statement here is programmatic, and the passage as a whole is fundamental to Lactantius’ argument in De ira Dei. We shall consider it here in two parts, the first of which runs as follows: For there are and have been philosophers who thought that the gods exercise absolutely no supervision over human affairs. If their opinion is true, how can we show devotion to the gods, or have a sense of the holy or of religious obligation? 164 59 162 ID 8.2: Quae cum dicit, utrum aliquem cultum Deo putat esse tribuendum, an evertit omnem religionem? Si enim Deus nihil cuiquam boni tribuit, si colentis obsequio nullam gratiam refert, quid tam vanum, tam stultum, quam templa aedificare, sacrificia facere, dona conferre, rem familiarem minuere, ut nihil assequamur? 163 ID 8: ‘Deus, inquit Cicero, si talis est, ut nulla gratia, nulla hominum charitate teneatur, valeat. Quid enim dicam, propitius sit? esse enim propitius potest nemini.’. Cf. ND 1.124: deinde si maxime talis est deus, ut nulla gratia, nulla hominum caritate teneatur, valeat — quid enim dicam ‘propitius sit’; esse enim propitius potest nemini, quoniam, ut dicitis, omnis in inbecillitate est et gratia et caritas. 164 ND 1.3: Sunt enim philosophi et fuerunt, qui omnino nullam habere censerent rerum humanarum procurationem deos. Quorum si vera sententia est, quae potest esse pietas, quae sanctitas, quae religio? What Lactantius maintains is not far from this: ‘While Epicurus thinks these things, he destroys religion from the foundations. With this removed, confusion and perturbation of life attend.’ 165 For Cicero, if the philosophers are correct in their view that the gods have no direction of human affairs (procurationem rerum humanarum), then there can be no piety, no holiness, and no religion (pietas, sanctitas, religio). What is of interest in terms of Lactantius’ text is what Cicero requires of the gods in order for these conditions to be preserved, namely that they have the power and wish to help us, that they care for us and take notice of our actions, and that something of them be available to us: All such chaste and scrupulous acknowledgement of the divine power is pointless unless the gods take notice of it, and unless the immortal gods make some acknowledgement to the human race. But if the gods have neither the power nor the desire to help us, if they have no interest whatever and they pay no attention to our activities, if there is nothing which can percolate from them to affect our human lives, what reason have we for addressing any acts of worship or honours or prayers to the immortal gods? If such activities are a mere facade of feigned pretence, they can contain no true devotion, nor indeed any other virtue, and without devotion to the gods all sense of the holy and of religious observation is also lost. Once these disappear, our lives become fraught with disturbance and great chaos. It is conceivable that, if reverence for the gods is removed, trust and the social bond between men and the uniquely pre-eminent virtue of justice will disappear. 166 In the Ciceronian formulation, holiness and religion attend upon piety, and without all of these we are left in confusion and disturbance (perturbatio vitae...et magna confusio). The final 60 165 ID 8.6: Haec dum sentit Epicurus, religionem funditus delet, qua sublata, confusio ac perturbatio vitae sequetur. 166 ND 1.3-4: Haec enim omnia pure atque caste tribuenda deorum numini ita sunt, si animadvertuntur ab is et si est aliquid a deis inmortalibus hominum generi tributum; sin autem dei neque possunt nos iuvare nec volunt nec omnino curant nec, quid agamus, animadvertunt nec est, quod ab is ad hominum vitam permanare possit, quid est, quod ullos deis inmortalibus cultus, honores, preces adhibeamus? In specie autem fictae simulationis sicut reliquae virtutes item pietas inesse non potest; cum qua simul sanctitatem et religionem tolli necesse est, quibus sublatis perturbatio vitae sequitur et magna confusio; [4] atque haut scio, an pietate adversus deos sublata fides etiam et societas generis humani et una excellentissuma virtus iustitia tollatur. result is the destruction of justice, by the removal of which all other virtues are likewise destroyed. 167 With Lactantius, we find a shift in the conception of justice as the chief virtue (una excellentissuma virtus iustitia) to one wherein wisdom, as something that has been bestowed upon mankind by God, is characteristic of him and his superiority over the rest of creation. This shift, however, does not appear until later in his text, in chapter thirteen: You see, then, we need wisdom because of evils: unless these things had been set before us, we would not be a rational animal. Because if this reckoning is true, which the Stoics are in no way able to see, even that argument of Epicurus is refuted. God, he says, either wants to remove evils and is unable; or is able and does not want to, or he neither wants to nor is able; or he either wants to and is able. If he wants to and is not able, he is feeble, which does not fall to God. If he is able and does not want to, he is jealous, which is equally foreign to God. If he neither wants to nor is able, he is both jealous and feeble; for this reason he is not God. If he wants to and is able, which alone is suitable to God, whence then are evils? Or why does he not remove them? 168 Wisdom allows mankind to know God, and it is upon this that Lactantius’ entire system depends and with this that the passage above is concerned. 169 He limits the philosophers of 61 167 The importance of justice to Lactantius cannot be understated, and is attested not least by his devotion of an entire book of the Divinae Institutiones to it. We shall approach a discussion of justice in the final chapter of this study, but I would like to stress here the degree to which justice (or a life lived according to justice) is intimately linked to religion and the worship of God. Nor is this entirely divergent from Cicero, see e.g. De Legibus 1.20.28; which Lactantius uses at 14. For a general discussion that takes book five of the Divinae Institutiones as a test-case, see Christiane Ingremeau, ‘Lactance et la Justice dans le livre v des Institutions Divines.’ in M. Piot. (ed.) Regards sur le monde antique: hommages á Guy Sabbah. Lyon, 2002, 153-162. 168 ID 13.19-21: Vides ergo, magis propter mala opus nobis esse sapientia: quae nisi fuissent proposita, rationale animal non essemus. Quod si haec ratio vera est, quam stoici nullo modo videre potuerunt, dissolvitur etiam argumentum illud Epicuri. Deus, inquit, aut vult tollere mala et non potest; aut potest et non vult; aut neque vult, neque potest; aut et vult et potest. Si vult et non potest, imbecillis est; quod in Deum non cadit. Si potest et non vult, invidus; quod aeque alienum a Deo. Si neque vult, neque potest, et invidus et imbecillis est; ideoque neque Deus. Si vult et potest, quod solum Deo convenit, unde ergo sunt mala? aut cur illa non tollit? 169 The exact relationship between wisdom, knowledge, and religion is a complicated matter both here and in the Divinae Institutiones. With respect to the latter, Bryce (1990) juxtaposes the three with the highest good (summum bonum) and suggests that Lactantius equated the knowledge of good and evil, when combined with virtue, with wisdom. Religion is viewed as the purpose of man, as the thing for which man is born and created (so Bryce, 182, comparing Lactantius’ take on religion to Cicero’s stance that man is born to justice). the Ciceronian passage to Epicurus and adds that confusion and ‘perturbation’ of life are consequences of such a destruction of religion - which, for Lactantius, is human life. 170 Taken together, these references to De Natura Deorum, while subtle, allow Lactantius to locate his argument and flag his concerns as questions (resolved or unresolved) of long standing and legitimate debate. Further, Lactantius has so far been in agreement with Cicero and the various figures of his text whom he chooses to incorporate, but he has also somewhat altered the terms of the debate. 171 In the first eight chapters of De ira Dei, Lactantius has established his assertion, in an arguably Ciceronian manner, that the philosophers who maintain that God does not care for man and is not moved by anger or kindness are incorrect, that man stands above the beasts because of reason, and that religion has its proper place among humankind. In what other ways does Lactantius look to Cicero, and in what ways does his argument in De ira Dei differ from some of the conclusions of De Natura Deorum? I offer three points of contact, each of which serves a distinct purpose for Lactantius as he makes his case for God’s anger. It is in his understanding of religion that Lactantius first begins to break from Cicero, and more precisely from Cotta’s refutation of Epicurus in Book 1 of De Natura Deorum. Up to a point, Lactantius is consistent in his use of Cotta’s declamations, and it would appear at first that, at the end of De ira Dei 8, their opinions are one and the same, insofar as both maintain that Epicurus (and others) have effectively rid mankind not only of superstition, but also of religion. 172 Matters become more complicated, however, if one 62 170 ID 8.6: Haec dum sentit Epicurus, wherein ‘haec’ refers to the opinion that the gods care nothing for man. 171 This agreement is more chronological than substantial; as we have seen, Lactantius picks and chooses what he uses from Cicero’s text. The clearest examples of the relationship are often those that draw upon Cotta’s refutation of Velleius’ Epicurean exposition. 172 ID 8.10: Falsa est igitur omnis religio et divinitas nulla est. Sed a viris prudentibus universa conficta sunt, quo rectius innocentiusque vivatur. Cf. ND 1.117-118, below. considers what precedes this statement in Lactantius’ text, namely the close relationship between fear and religion: ...how then can religion itself be grasped and preserved? Indeed, what is not feared is despised; what is despised is especially not revered. So it is that religion, and majesty and honor exist with fear: moreover there is no fear where no one is angry. If therefore you withdraw kindness from God, or anger, or either of the two, it is necessary to remove religion, without which the life of men is filled with foolishness, crime, and excess. 173 This is quite a reach from Cotta’s statement: The maxims of all these thinkers banish not only the superstition which induces groundless fear of the gods, but also the religious observance embraced by devoted worship of them. Then again, some have said that belief in the immortal gods was a total invention by sages in the interests of the state, so that those who could not be impelled by reason should be constrained by religious awe to a sense of duty; surely they too have utterly undermined all religion? 174 Unlike Cotta, who relegates (irrational) fear to the realm of superstition (and worship to religion), Lactantius maintains that fear is necessary for religion. 175 This belief in the existence of fear as something essential to religion, and further that such a fear can only exist when someone is angry gains in importance as the text progresses. 176 For the moment, 63 173 ID 8.7-8: ...quomodo Religio ipsa sine metu teneri aut custodiri potest? Quod enim non metuitur, contemnitur: quod contemnitur, utique non colitur. Ita fit, ut religio, et majestas, et honor metu constet: metus autem non est, ubi nullus irascitur. Sive igitur gratiam Deo, sive iram, sive utrumque detraxeris, religionem tolli necesse est, sine qua vita hominum stultitia, scelere, immanitate completur. 174 ND 1.117-118: Horum enim sententiae omnium non modo superstitionem tollunt, in qua inest timor inanis deorum, sed etiam religionem, quae deorum cultu pio continetur. [118] Quid i, qui dixerunt totam de dis inmortalibus opinionem fictam esse ab hominibus sapientibus rei publicae causa, ut, quos ratio non posset, eos ad officium religio duceret, nonne omnem religionem funditus sustulerunt? 175 Lactantius’ adamant claim that fear is necessary to religion both marks a further departure from previous and contemporary formulations of the difference between religion and superstition, and is also problematic in its own right. We will consider the problem of fear in the next chapter, but for now we should note here that for Lactantius, the difference between religion and superstition is merely one of degree. Throughout the theosophical tradition, superstition is cast in a bad light: it is first of all irrational, and second of all rooted in a fear of the gods which is both groundless and foolish; Christianity itself is early on referred to as superstitio (e.g. Pliny, Epistle 10.96) and as a contagion. Not so for Lactantius, who can argue that, at any rate, even the proper religio of the Stoics and the Romans amounts to superstition when compared to, or rather with the advent of, Christianity (see Divinae Institutiones 4.28.2-5, against De Natura Deorum 2.71). 176 Fear: ID 5-6, 8, 10-12, 15-16, 23. however, it serves the purpose of providing an opportunity for Lactantius to hold forth on divine providence. Nowhere in the text does Lactantius make more abundant use of De Natura Deorum than in the five subsequent chapters about providence, the origin of the world, god’s existence and governance of the world, and lastly, his proof of the argument that the world was made for man. It is in these chapters that we find a more generalized use of the Ciceronian text (our second mode of contact), wherein most of the material quoted and paraphrased is deployed in an effort to strengthen Lactantius’ argument. For the most part, these references go unmarked by Lactantius, and only twice does he mention Cicero and the text. Not surprisingly, many of these borrowings are incorporated without any mention of their original context or a sense of the greater argument of which they were a part. Among the Ciceronian references, we find mentions of the atheists Diagoras of Melos and Theodorus of Cyrene; Straton, who held that nature created the world; Leucippus and his variously shaped atoms; Euhemerus (via Ennius); Cicero (as a philosopher to be refuted); Plato; Hermes; Socrates (via Xenophon); Pythagoras; and Antisthenes. 177 Each of these philosophers is singled out as one of a handful of those who did not agree with the consensus regarding the opinion that god made and/or governs the world. In half of these instances, Lactantius makes it clear that he is referring to a specific work, e.g. ‘Plato, in his Timeaus.’ 178 The intention was, perhaps, to assure his reader of his learning and familiarity with the philosophical tenets and doctrines he was attacking, and some have taken their appearance in the text as evidence that Lactantius had in fact read some or all of these texts. 64 177 ID 11; ND 3.53; 1.119; 1.91; 1.30; 3.56; 131; 1.27; 132. 178 Although it is likely that here, as elsewhere, Lactantius has is speaking of Cicero’s translation of this text, we cannot rule out the possibility that he would have had access to (and understanding of) the original Greek. A certain level of generality, however, to these citations would suggest that while this is not impossible, it is more likely that he simply took them from Cicero. When he is not marshaling the philosophical voices of the past as straw men for rebuttal, Lactantius offers implicit allusions to his dependence on the vocabulary of De Natura Deorum for framing his own way of representing theological issues. Our third point of contact, then, is the vocabulary that Lactantius employs to communicate his conception of God, or rather, his criticisms of others’ conceptions of God. One argument to which he repeatedly returns concerns the view that nature created the world, which is succintly stated in De ira Dei 10.1-2: Those who deny that the world was made by divine providence say either that it was composed by first principles coming together among themselves by chance, or that it suddenly came to be from nature; they hold (as does Straton) that nature truly has in itself the power of production and diminution: but that it has neither any sense nor any figure, so that we may understand that all things were generated as if on their own accord, with no artificer, no originator. Each of these is empty and impossible. But this happens to those ignorant of the truth, that they contrive whatever they please rather than believe that which reason demands. 179 In this case, the reference to De Natura Deorum provides some information about the theological claim with which Lactantius was engaging. In 1.53, Velleius argues the exact opposite opinion: But we Epicureans define the life of blessedness as residing in the possession of untroubled minds and relaxation from all duties. Our mentor who has schooled us in all else has also taught us that the world was created naturally, without the need for a craftsman’s role, and the process which in your view cannot be put in train without the skillful touches of a god is so straightforward that nature has created, is now creating, and will continue to create innumerable worlds. Because you Stoics do not see how nature can achieve this without being endowed with mind, you behave like 65 179 Qui nolunt divina providentia factum esse mundum, aut principiis inter se temere coeuntibus dicunt esse concretum, aut repente natura extitisse; naturam vero (ut Straton) habere in se vim gignendi et minuendi: sed eam nec sensum habere ullum, nec figuram, ut intelligamus, omnia quasi sua sponte esse generata, nullo artifice, nec auctore. Utrumque vanum et impossibile. Sed hoc evenit ignorantibus veritatem, ut quidvis potius excogitent, quam id sentiant quod ratio deposcit. poets of tragedy, unable to draw the plot to its close, and having recourse to a deus ex machina. 180 The problem, argues Lactantius, is that those who believe it also believe that nature does not have either sense/sensation or form (nec sensum habere ullum, nec figuram), although it does have the power of ‘production and diminution’ (vim gigendi et minuendi). If something lacks these two qualities, he continues, it is not the artificer or author whose plan is required for the creation of the world, for the world did not come to be spontaneously. 181 This argument, namely that nature, as something which lacks sense/sensation and form/figure, can not be the creative force behind the world is drawn out at some length, and the Epicureans are the intended target. 182 This passage clarifies three points with regard to Lactantius’ text. First, it illustrates the crux of the problem that Lactantius finds with the Epicureans: their understanding of creation does not require an active, moving mind, but rather nature alone and, as noted above, he finds the notion that nature, something without sensus et figura, created the world, to be ridiculous. The second point is something to which Velleius briefly alludes, that the Stoics attribute creation to a ‘divine intelligence’ (divina sollertia), and in this much, at least, Lactantius is willing to give them credit. 183 Complications arise, however, when one explores the nature of that divine intelligence. 66 180 Nos autem beatam vitam in animi securitate et in omnium vacatione munerum ponimus. docuit enim nos idem, qui cetera, natura effectum esse mundum, nihil opus fuisse fabrica, tamque eam rem esse facilem, quam vos effici negetis sine divina posse sollertia, ut innumerabiles natura mundos effectura sit, efficiat, effecerit. Quod quia, quem ad modum natura efficere sine aliqua mente possit, non videtis, ut tragici poetae cum explicare argumenti exitum non potestis, confugitis ad deum. 181 ID 10.34: At enim (sicut alii dicunt) natura mundus effectus est, quae sense et figura caret. Hoc vero multo est absurdius. Cf. ND 1.53. Lactantius also alludes to Tusculan Disputations 1.27.66 in (9) and (10). 182 Nor are the occurrences of either sensus or figura as descriptors of God limited to the discussion as it is presented in these few chapters. Earlier in the treatise, Lactantius characterized the view of those who are on the ‘second step,’ writing that they ‘deny that God has any figure, or they think that he is moved by no affection’ (qui aut figuram negant habere ullam Deum, aut nullo affectu commoveri putant). 183 The argument is that the creator must be completely elevated above the created: cf. 10; ND 2.16; 3.17; 3.25. In the Stoic view, God does not have form, and Lactantius later informs us that he will not even begin to hold forth on this topic. 184 This is a discussion to which we will return, but it should be noted here, as the third point, that it is in this fundamental difference in his conception of the nature of God that Lactantius distinguishes himself from both the ancient philosophers and his contemporaries. Despite its title, Lactantius’ treatise is just as much an exploration of the nature of the supreme (and here, Christian) God as it is about his anger. The organization of the argument follows an implicit understanding, on the part of Lactantius, that his claims about divine anger depend on his claims about the figure, mind, and soul of God, and in turn, that these depend on a more basic conception of who God is – here, artificer and administrator of the world. The lengthy excurses on divine providence and administration serve as means by which Lactantius establishes his positions on these fundamental theological questions, and De Natura Deorum offers him a preset way of communicating these ideas. 185 Through the Ciceronian text, Lactantius sets up and subsequently knocks down Epicureans and Stoics, and effectively adds his voice to the debate. Lactantius’ reliance upon Cicero for the expression of these ideas is not limited to questions of divine providence; he often incorporates elements of De Natura Deorum in his discussion of the creation of the world for the benefit of man as well. In this much, at least, he professes to agree with the Stoics, if 67 184 ID 18.13: Omitto de figura Dei dicere, quia stoici negant habere ullam foram Deum, et ingens alia materia nascetur, si eos coarguere velimus: de animo tantum loquor. 185 One ought to note that for Lactantius, these are not excurses but are in fact critical to his position. It is perhaps for this reason that many commentators on the text tend to nearly dispense with the treatise’s concern with divine anger and instead read it as an exposition of Lactantius’ belief in divine providence and its central importance to his theology. While this view is correct insofar as it recognizes the significance of providence and so on to Lactantius’ broader theological concerns, it nonetheless dismisses its role in this treatise, a role which I will later argue plays the part of illustrating God’s kindness to humankind. Such a willingness to overlook the central tenet of the text, however, might be based in good intentions: there often seems to be a need to rescue Lactantius from his detractors, but the effort of doing this has merely replicated the problem. only to a point: quam vera sit sententia Stoicorum, qui aiunt nostra causa mundum esse constructum (13.1). Such an affinity for the Stoics’ position on the question extends beyond acknowledgement and is also apparent in his organization and defense of the matter, the basis of which is the argument that all things on earth - fire, springs, hills, rivers, animals, etc. - exist insofar as they are intended to be used by man. Proof of these points are culled, directly and indirectly, from De Natura Deorum Book 2, in which Balbus holds forth on Stoic theology. Although it should be noted that these chapters of De ira Dei are sprinkled with tangential discussions concerning the fear of God and the existence of religion, there is one curious deviation from this program. In Chapter 13, while defending a point about the existence of animals for mankind, Lactantius offers an answer for a long-standing question: if God made all things for mankind, why do there exist things which are ‘opposed, hostile, and injurious’ to us? 186 The Stoics, says Lactantius, maintained that there are many things in the world whose utility escapes the notice of man, and whose use will be discovered in due time. To reason away the problem in this manner, however, is contradictory for Lactantius, for one cannot argue that a ‘remedy should be required...drawn from itself ’ - surely it would be better for them not to exist in the first place. 187 Lactantius offers an alternative: evils exist so that mankind may exercise wisdom, the sole quality which separates him from the rest of creation. Perhaps not surprisingly, the argument here is reminiscent of Lactantius’ argument in favor of divine anger: if it were 68 186 ID 13.9: Sed Academici contra Stoicos disserentes solent quaerere, cur, si Deus omnia hominum causa fecerit, etiam multa contraria, et inimica, et pestifera nobis reperiantur, tam in mari, quam in terra. Cf. Prior Academics 2.38.120. 187 ID 13.11-12: Quae si est, invenientur aliquando; nempe adversis mala, cum id illi querantur esse omnino malum! - Viperam ferunt exustam in cineremque dilapsam mederi eiusdem bestiae morsui. - Quanto melius fuerat eam prorsus non esee quam remedium contra se ab ea ipsa desiderari! not for both good and evil, we would not be able to distinguish between the two - one cannot know what is good if he does not know what is evil. Throughout the text, Lactantius asserts that a defining quality of God is that he can do whatever he wishes. 188 That God can do as he pleases does not make him weak or envious, but it does both explain and justify the existence of evils in the world and, by extension, why God can get angry. The refrain is the same: if the one is taken away, the other must also be taken away; the end result is for wisdom to lack its office and by extention, for man to lose the quality that defines and distinguishes him. Stylistic and substantial influences of Cicero’s text permeate De ira Dei. Unlike his use of, for example, Lucretius’ De Natura Rerum, and other cases in which he quotes or borrows from a Classical author only to refute an opinion, Lactantius has absorbed and repeated significant Ciceronian formulations of theological questions in his treatise. Perhaps the most important of these is his adamant assertion that God cares for mankind, the same premise with which De Natura Deorum begins. Structurally, Lactantius’ text is often close to Cicero’s as well: both cast the Epicureans as their primary opponents, and devote much of their time to refuting the Epicurean notion of an aloof and untroubled God. Such parallels are also found in Lactantius’ treatment of divine providence and related topics, as his exposition of the argument follows the organization of Balbus’ defense of Stoic theology in De Natura Deorum Book 2. 189 69 188 ID 13: Deus enim potest quidquid velit, et imbecillitas, vel invidia in Deo nulla est; potest igitur mala tollere: sed non vult; nec ideo tamen invidus est. Idcirco enim non tollit, quia sapientiam (sicut edocui) simul tribuit, et plus est boni ac iucunditatis in sapientia, quam in malis molestiae. Sapientia enim facit, ut etiam Deum cognoscamus et per eam cognitionem immortalitatem assequamur; quod est summum bonum. Itaque nisi prius malum agnoverimus, nec bonum poterimus agnoscere. 189 In four parts: (1) the proof of the existence of the gods; (2) an explanation of their nature (although, this is arguably distributed throughout Lactantius’ text); (3) proof that the world is governed by the gods; and (4) that they have particular care of and interest in mankind. There has been considerable discussion of whether or not Lactantius was a Stoic, or had Stoic leanings. His representation of the Stoics would seem to indicate that he followed them up to a point, and that his point of departure was clearly demarcated: they did not attribute any figura to God. Whether or not this was true of the Stoics of Lactantius’ age is a separate matter; the conception of Stoicism against which he leveled his argument was that which was represented in the Ciceronian text. In this way, too, De Natura Deorum is an important text for Lactantius, for it not only provides him with caricatures of philosophers and philosophical schools, but also shapes the way he articulates his difference of opinion. The picture of God that emerges from Lactantius’ text is of one that has figure and form, sense and reason, action and movement, duty and administration. Lactantius crafts his argument to lead his reader down a specific path. If we accept the argument that God has administration of the world (and all that that entails), we must also accept that this administration is expressed by his movement, will, and action. Religion, in turn, is the means by which humankind expresses its recognition and worship of God as the creator and administrator - a bond, or set of practices, which we are able to exercise because we have been given the gift of wisdom. Further, to worship God is, in part, to fear him, knowing that he sees the unseen and can act as he wants. It is by this tenuous balance that justice is maintained both on earth and in heaven, and it is in the importance granted to justice that we see another facet of Lactantius’ relationship to De Natura Deorum. Justice and the regulation of behavior are, in both cases, the ends to which the proposed system aims and are viewed as critical to the maintenance of order. That Lactantius arrived at such a conclusion is, perhaps, not startling. The question of how he arrived at it, and the context in which that conclusion was reached - a discussion of God’s anger - do, however, require explanation. We have so far examined the ways in 70 which Lactantius looked to Cicero’s De Natura Deorum as a model for the issues at play in theological arugment, and have made note of other texts to which he frequently turned. Yet there were many other models and sources available to the apologist; if Cicero was formative to Lactantius’ intellectual development, the books of the Bible were likewise formative to his Christian understanding of the world and of God. In the next chapter, we shall consider how Lactantius’ literal interpretation of biblical representations of God’s wrath compared and contrasted to the hermeneutic strategies deployed by his predecessors and near- contemporaries among a variety of philosophical and theological traditions. Lactantius’ implicit use of biblical quotations and references serves as a point of difference from the citation methods that he adopts when incorporating classical Greek and Roman opinions; in this regard his methodology should be studied with particular attention paid to his own comments both in De ira Dei and in the Divinae Institutiones. 71 [2.] The Origin of Anger: Lactantius and the Old Testament Scriptures We have seen how Lactantius drew upon the theological ideas articulated in Cicero’s De Natura Deorum in presenting his own understanding of the nature of the Christian God. Lactantius also found in that text a series of opinions which he attributed to the Stoic and the Epicurean philosophical schools; De ira Dei, he informs his reader, was written as a response to these philosophers who do not think that the supreme god gets angry. 190 Yet the concept of an angry god is not one that can be found in the Ciceronian treatise, and as such it marks a significant departure from that model. 191 This is also a problematic departure: a persistent strain of ancient Greek philosophical and theological thought maintained that the supreme deity was impassible and could not be moved both by emotions generally and by anger specifically. To locate Lactantius’ model for God’s wrath we must look beyond his relationship with the Ciceronian text and instead to representations of God found in the books of the Hebrew Bible. That Lactantius knew and had read certain texts from this collection is not a mark of particular distinction. 192 The way in which he brought those texts to bear in his argument, however, indicates his desire to appeal to a non-Christian audience as well as his use of non-classical evidence. It also sharpens our understanding of Lactantius’ concept of the divine nature and the relationship between God and humans. 72 190 De ira Dei (hereafter ID) 1.1 and 22.1. 191 De Natura Deorum 1.51-56 (Velleius); 2. 45-72 and 2.154-167 (Balbus); and 3.65-93 (Cotta). The Ciceronian position is found elsewhere, e.g. De Officiis 3.102, where it is given as the agreed-upon argument of all philosophers: At hoc quidem commune est omnium philosophorum ... Numquam nec irasci deum nec nocere. 192 That Lactantius knew little of the Hebrew or Greek scriptures was a belief maintained by Robert Ogilvie, The Library of Lactantius. Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1978; this arose in part because of the practice by which Lactantius cited such sources (on which see Rene Pichon, Lactance. étude sur le mouvement philosophique et religieux sous le regne de. Constantin. Paris, 1901, 199-207). We shall consider how Lactantius incorporated scriptural material and why he did so below, pages 91-115, and in chapter four. This discussion has two parts. In the first, we will look at the exegetical strategies employed by three individuals who represented three different philosophical and religious traditions. The first of these is Heraclitus ‘the Allegorist,’ whose text Homeric Problems is the earliest allegorical treatment of Homer that survives. 193 Heraclitus’ attempt to reveal Homer’s grasp of philosophical truth offers one example of classical allegorical reading and method, and stands in opposition to the strategies of those who sought to eradicate such offensive stories about the gods from their cultural and intellectual traditions. 194 Our second consideration will be the hermeneutics of Philo of Alexandria (20 BCE - 50 CE). Philo’s allegorical reading offers one way of negotiating the philosophical and religious differences and similarities in Jewish and Hellenistic thought; his concerns about divine impassibility have parallels in classical Greek theology although his reconciliation thereof differs in method and implication. Origen will serve as a third point of reference. As a second- century Christian exegete, Origen employed and developed modes of reading biblical texts that allowed for multiple tiers of meaning. The hermeneutic that he brought to bear enjoyed a position of privilege among other Christian exegetes of the second and third centuries although it significantly differed from that which Lactantius undertook in De ira Dei. 195 73 193 David Konstan and Donald Russell (eds. and trans.), Heraclitus: Homeric Problems. Atlanta: GA, Society of Biblical Literature, 2005, xi: ‘Heraclitus is sometimes called “the Grammarian” or “the Allegorist” to distinguish him from his more famous namesake, the pre-Socratic philosopher.’ Despite some difficulties in dating (see Konstan and Russell 2005, xi-xii for discussion) the text was likely written around 100 CE. Although references are made to other such treatises, the next earliest such work was that of Porphyry’s. For a discussion of the varieties of Homeric exegesis see Robert Lamberton, Homer the Theologian. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1989; on Porphyry specifically see pages 108-133. 194 Plato and Epicurus are two such philosophers whom Heraclitus names at Homeric Problems (hereafter HP) 4.5; we shall briefly consider Plato’s qualms with Homeric theology below, pages 75-77. 195 Clement of Alexandria and John Chrysostom might also have served as counterpoints for our study of Lactantius on this question; the choice of Origen for this argument was based on his inheritance of the tradition as developed by Clement as well as for the innovations he contributed to that tradition. The relevant bibliography on Origen will be cited throughout the chapter. The second part of this chapter is devoted to a consideration of the type of reading in which Lactantius was engaged, as we can reconstruct it from his claims in De ira Dei. Lactantius was not a biblical exegete, insofar as no record of a commentary on or extensive interpretation of biblical material survives. 196 Yet the act of reading, regardless of the designation of that material as classical or biblical, involved interpretation and further Lactantius’ use of that material was produced by and negotiated through his peculiar understanding of it. 197 Such texts also would have been incorporated in the way most effective to his argument, with special attention paid to the audience that Lactantius sought to reach. 198 Throughout his works, Lactantius makes a point to note that he has drawn evidentiary support from sources that are most likely to convince the intellectual pagans who find no value in the scriptures. 199 Our investigation of Lactantius’ use of the Old Testament scriptures will take this claim as its starting point and from there examine three passages in which the apologist makes muted, thematic, and effective use of the Old Testament 74 196 In this Lactantius is both similar to his Latin-writing peers (about whom we shall learn in the fourth chapter) and unlike the three individuals with whom his method is here compared. Heraclitus’ project is in many ways an extended exegesis of the Homeric epics; the primary treatise of Philo’s that we shall consider, Quod Sit Deus Immutabilis, is a continuous exegesis of passages from Genesis; and Origen wrote not only treatises explicitly about the methodology of exegesis but also commentaries on biblical books in which he deployed those methods. 197 Although we may assert that Lactantius likely read scripture in the form in which it existed in the Old Latin Bible, it is difficult to know exactly which version thereof he would have accessed. There remains the possibility that he read some texts of the Hebrew scriptures as they existed in the form of the Septuagint but there is no clear evidence to support this view. That Lactantius probably would have used the Latin versions of these texts adds another layer of interpretation. For the opinion (often stated) that any act of reading or translation involves at least one (if not multiple) steps of interpretation, see for example William Klein, C. Blomberg and R. Hubbard, ‘The History of Biblical Interpretation, in idem, Introduction to Biblical Interpretation. Dallas, TX: Word Publishing, 1993, 24 and Alan J. Hauser and Duane F. Watson, ‘Introduction,’ in idem (eds.) A History of Biblical Interpretation. Volume I: The Ancient Period. Grand Rapid, MI: Eerdmans Publishing Co, 2003, 3-4. 198 Lactantius’ argument and the rhetorical strategies that shaped it are discussed in chapter 3. 199 ID 22.3; cf. Divinae Institutiones 5.1.15-28. books. 200 In each case, the scriptural parallels upon which he draws are the basis for his refutation of what he has presented as a Stoic or Epicurean fault. 201 Lactantius’ citation of scriptural evidence for God’s wrath suggests a literal reading of those texts; his limited yet thoughtful use of them in De ira Dei indicates not just that they were sources for his claim for divine anger but that he carefully deployed them as authoritative arguments for the persuasion of his audience. That Heraclitus, Philo, and Origen sought to establish interpretations of their inherited texts by opening the possibility for extra-literal meanings suggests that they did so in response to criticisms of the texts themselves. Heraclitus explicitly acknowledges this as a motivation for undertaking the Homeric Problems in the opening of his treatise. 202 With two exceptions, namely Plato and Epicurus, Heraclitus relegates these critics of Homer to 75 200 The chapters are 5, 13, and 17. Lactantius also deploys scriptural references in the cluster of chapters that constitute 20-23 of ID, but we shall refrain from commenting on these until the fifth chapter of this study. 201 Ingremeau (1982) 24 points out that Lactantius’ position on divine wrath is informed by biblical representations but refrains from discussing the parallels at any length. She presents the treatise as original for its lack of biblical exegesis (a point with which I agree) and sees the ultimate goal of Lactantius’ text as being a defense of biblical ideas of divine anger over and against the philosophical notion of apatheia, and for the benefit of a pagan audience. My interest here is in the ways in which Lactantius cited and used scriptural ideas in his rebuttal of Stoic and Epicurean claims and in what that can show us about this larger claims. 202 HP 1.1-1.4: Μέγας ἀπ’ οὐρανοῦ καὶ χαλεπὸς ἀγὼν Ὁμήρῳ καταγγέλλεται περὶ τῆς εἰς τὸ θεῖον ὀλιγωρίας· πάντα γὰρ ἠσέβησεν, εἰ μηδὲν ἠλληγόρησεν.) Ἱερόσυλοι δὲ μῦθοι καὶ θεομάχου γέμοντες ἀπονοίας δι’ ἀμφοτέρων τῶν σωματίων μεμήνασιν·) ὥστε εἴ τις ἄνευ φιλοσόφου θεωρίας μηδενὸς αὐτοῖς ὑφεδρεύοντος ἀλληγορικοῦ τρόπου νομίζοι κατὰ ποιητικὴν παράδοσιν εἰρῆσθαι, Σαλμωνεὺς ἂν Ὅμηρος εἴη καὶ Τάνταλος, ἀκόλαστον γλῶσσαν ἔχων, αἰσχίστην νόσον. Ὥστε ἔμοιγε καὶ σφόδρα συμβέβηκε θαυμάζειν, πῶς ὁ δεισιδαίμων βίος ὁ ναοῖς καὶ τεμένεσι καὶ ταῖς δι’ ἔτους ἐν ταῖς] περὶ θεῶν προτρεπόμενος ἑορταῖς οὕτω τὴν Ὁμηρικὴν ἀσέβειαν ἐνηγκάλισται φιλοστόργως, τοὺς ἐναγεῖς λόγους διὰ στόματος ᾄδων. anonymity. 203 We are told that they accuse Homer of having written mere myth, a criminal charge because of the impious depictions of the gods and goddesses that are included in the epics. Heraclitus’ rebuke of Plato is particularly targeted: ‘Away too with Plato, the flatterer, Homer’s dishonest accuser, who banishes him from his private Republic as an honored exile, garlanded with white wool and with his head drenched with costly perfumes!’. 204 While the comment about the garlands is a specific reference to Republic 398A, the idea of branding Homer an exile from the ideal state is one that Plato gives space to earlier in that text. A brief consideration of Plato’s argument here will help to elucidate the sorts of claims against which Heraclitus based his defense of Homer. In the second book of Plato’s Republic, Socrates holds forth on the shortcomings of Homeric representations of the divine. The context for the conversation is a discussion of the education that the youth in this ideal state will receive. Having divided education into two parts, music and gymnastics, Socrates begins with a consideration of music. Literature is included within the category, which leads Socrates to an evaluation of what is true and what is false. He defines ‘bad’ literature as belonging to the realm of the poets, namely Homer and Hesiod, and more precisely as anything that carries the fault of ‘telling a bad lie.’ This kind of lie is one that consists of an ‘erroneous representation made of the nature of gods and heroes,’ like a painter who paints a portrait that lacks even the shadow of a likeness to 76 203 HP 4.1-5: Ἐρρίφθω δὲ Πλάτων ὁ κόλαξ καὶ Ὁμήρου συκοφάντης, ἔνδοξον ἀπὸ τῆς ἰδίας πολιτείας τὸν φυγάδα προπέμπων λευκοῖς ἐρίοις ἀνεστεμμένον καὶ πολυτελεῖ μύρῳ τὴν κεφαλὴν διάβροχον.) Οὐδ’ Ἐπικούρου φροντὶς ἡμῖν, ὃς τῆς ἀσέμνου περὶ τοὺς ἰδίους κήπους ἡδονῆς γεωργός ἐστιν, ἅπασαν ὁμοῦ ποιητικὴν ὥσπερ ὀλέθριον μύθων δέλεαρ ἀφοσιούμενος.) Πρὸς οὓς μέγα δή τι στενάξας εἴποιμ’ ἂν εὐλόγως· Ὦ πόποι, οἷον δή νυ θεοὺς βροτοὶ αἰτιόωνται. Καὶ τὸ πικρότατον, ἀρχὴν ἑκάτεροι τῶν παρ’ ἑαυτοῖς δογμάτων ἔχοντες Ὅμηρον, ἀφ’ οὗ τὰ πλεῖστα τῆς ἐπιστήμης ὠφέληνται, περὶ τοῦτον ἀχαρίστως εἰσὶν ἀσεβεῖς. Ἀλλ’ ὑπὲρ μὲν Ἐπικούρου καὶ Πλάτωνος αὖθις ἐξέσται λέγειν. All English translations of this text are those of Konstan and Russell 2005. 204 HP 4.1, Greek supra n.203. the original. 205 Socrates brings in as examples stories representative of Greek mythology, and spends particular time on the account of Kronos’ castration of Ouranos. In the following passage, Socrates argues that such accounts should not be told to the youth, who are at their most vulnerable: ...and the battles of the gods in Homer's verse are things that we must not admit into our city either wrought in allegory or without allegory. For the young are not able to distinguish what is and what is not allegory, but whatever opinions are taken into the mind at that age are wont to prove indelible and unalterable. For which reason, maybe, we should do our utmost that the first stories that they hear should be so composed as to bring the fairest lessons of virtue to their ears. 206 It does not matter, Socrates says, whether or not these stories are meant to be read allegorically, what matters is that the youth, especially, will not know how to differentiate between the literal and the allegorical, and that this is too grave a risk to take. His concern is moral and ethical, but it also speaks to the problem of training: if provided with examples of inappropriate behavior, the city’s youth will also act improperly, but this is because they will not yet know how to distinguish a true account from an allegorical one. Heraclitus would agree with his opponents’ critiques: ‘if he [Homer] meant nothing allegorically, he was impious through and through, and sacrilegious fables, loaded with 77 205 Plato, Republic 2.377d-e: Ἔγωγ’, ἔφη· ἀλλ’ οὐκ ἐννοῶ οὐδὲ τοὺς μείζους τίνας λέγεις. Οὓς Ἡσίοδός τε, εἶπον, καὶ Ὅμηρος ἡμῖν ἐλεγέτην καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι ποιηταί. οὗτοι γάρ που μύθους τοῖς ἀνθρώποις ψευδεῖς συντιθέντες ἔλεγόν τε καὶ λέγουσι. Ποίους δή, ἦ δ’ ὅς, καὶ τί αὐτῶν μεμφόμενος λέγεις; Ὅπερ, ἦν δ’ ἐγώ, χρὴ καὶ πρῶτον καὶ μάλιστα μέμφεσθαι, ἄλλως τε καὶ ἐάν τις μὴ καλῶς ψεύδηται. Τί τοῦτο; Ὅταν εἰκάζῃ τις κακῶς [οὐσίαν] τῷ λόγῳ, περὶ θεῶν τε καὶ ἡρώων οἷοί εἰσιν, ὥσπερ γραφεὺς μηδὲν ἐοικότα γράφων οἷς ἂν ὅμοια βουληθῇ γράψαι. Καὶ γάρ, ἔφη, ὀρθῶς ἔχει τά γε τοιαῦτα μέμφεσθαι. All English translations are from Paul Shorey, Plato The Republic Vol I, Books I-V . Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1969. 206 Republic 2.378d-e: Ἥρας δὲ δεσμοὺς ὑπὸ ὑέος καὶ Ἡφαίστου ῥίψεις ὑπὸ πατρός, μέλλοντος τῇ μητρὶ τυπτομένῃ ἀμυνεῖν, καὶ θεομαχίας ὅσας Ὅμηρος πεποίηκεν οὐ παραδεκτέον εἰς τὴν πόλιν, οὔτ’ ἐν ὑπονοίαις πεποιημένας οὔτε ἄνευ ὑπονοιῶν. ὁ γὰρ νέος οὐχ οἷός τε κρίνειν ὅτι τε ὑπόνοια καὶ ὃ μή, ἀλλ’ ἃ ἂν τηλικοῦτος ὢν λάβῃ ἐν ταῖς δόξαις δυσέκνιπτά τε καὶ ἀμετάστατα φιλεῖ γίγνεσθαι· ὧν δὴ ἴσως ἕνεκα περὶ παντὸς ποιητέον ἃ πρῶτα ἀκούουσιν ὅτι κάλλιστα μεμυθολογημένα πρὸς ἀρετὴν ἀκούειν. blasphemous folly, run riot through both epics.’ 207 To understand Homer, Heraclitus argues, one needs to ‘recognize Homeric allegory’ and to discern ‘what is said in a philosophical sense.’ 208 It is not just that the myths mask the true, philosophical meaning of the epics, but that Homer himself was the source of the philosophical thought that came to play a critical role for later philosophers. By discrediting the Homeric epics, Greek philosophers have discredited their own ideas. 209 In Heraclitus’ formulation, allegory is ‘the trope which says one thing but signifies something other than what it says.’ 210 While a literal reading of a passage from the Iliad or Odyssey might only tell a tale about the interactions of the gods with one another or with humans, an allegorical reading will bring to light some truth or hidden message. The first Homeric passage to which Heraclitus turns to illustrate this relationship between the literal and the allegorical (or true) meaning of the text consists of the first ten lines of the Iliad. Here Heraclitus is concerned with the idea that the plague was sent as a result of Apollo’s anger at Agamemnon; the criticism to which he responds is that anger is an unfitting trait to have been attributed to the deity. Heraclitus’ rebuttal centers on the argument that the 78 207 HP 1.2, the Greek is quoted supra n.202. 208 HP 3.2: Εἰ δ’ ἀμαθῶς τινες ἄνθρωποι τὴν Ὁμηρικὴν ἀλληγορίαν ἀγνοοῦσιν οὐδ’ εἰς τὰ μύχια τῆς ἐκείνου σοφίας καταβεβήκασιν, ἀλλ’ ἀβασάνιστος αὐτοῖς ἡ τῆς ἀληθείας κρίσις ἔρριπται, καὶ τὸ φιλοσόφως ῥηθὲν οὐκ εἰδότες, ὃ μυθικῶς δοκεῖ πλάσαι προσαρμόζουσιν, οὗτοι μὲν ἐρρέτωσαν. 209 HP 4.1-ff; as we see above n.203, he has Plato and Epicurus in mind. The idea that Homer was a philosopher who authored an allegorical text is central to Heraclitus’ approach and informs this statement about the dependency of later philosophy on the poet; on this view Homer’s authorial intent was to use allegory to expound his philosophy rather than to veil it. See David Dawson, Allegorical Readers and Cultural Revision in Ancient Alexandria. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1992, 40-41 for a discussion of this point. 210 HP 5.2: Ὁ γὰρ ἄλλα μὲν ἀγορεύων τρόπος, ἕτερα δὲ ὧν λέγει σημαίνων, ἐπωνύμως ἀλληγορία καλεῖταi. On the language of allegory see Lamberton 1989; on matters of the varied definition and understanding of the symbol in ancient allegorical thought, see Peter Struck, The Birth of the Symbol: Ancient Readers at the Limit of their Texts. Princeton University Press, 2004, especially 1-20 and 162-203. Dawson 1992, 1-22 is also useful. plague was simply a plague, and only ascribed to Apollo because of the god’s association with the sun, itself a force that can increase the severity of an epidemic: Looking carefully at the truth underlying these lines, I believe that they do not describe Apollo’s anger, but the misfortune of a plague, which is a spontaneous rather than a divinely sent disaster. ... The sun gives plagues their best opportunity to be destructive. ... Homer made Apollo the cause of acute epidemics, explicitly connecting the god’s name with sudden death...So, since Homer assumes the Sun to be one and the same as Apollo, and since disasters of this kind are caused by the Sun, he has made Apollo the physical cause of the plague. 211 Given this explanation, Heraclitus urges his readers, the event should not be thought of as a divinely-sent disaster. He goes on to show that the plague struck in the summer, furthering his argument for the sun being taken for plague by demonstrating that the whole event was due not so much to divine anger but to a ‘spontaneous corruption of the air.’ 212 As David Dawson has shown, Heraclitus proposes both a literal and an allegorical reading in his analysis of this passage from the Iliad. Dawson writes that Heraclitus’ ‘allegorical interpretation of Apollo as the sun preserves the literal action of killing. For Heraclitus, even though the Iliad is an allegory, not everything in it is allegorical -- at least at the same moment.’ 213 This methodology serves to underscore a principle of Heraclitus’ perspective on the Homeric epics earlier noted: the allegorist is concerned to prove that Homer has been misunderstood as a poet and as a philosopher; the only way to uncover the 79 211 The quotation above is culled from selections from chapters 6 and 8: Πλὴν ἔγωγε τὴν ὑπολελησμένην ἐν τοῖς ἔπεσιν ἀλήθειαν ἀκριβῶς διαθρήσας οὐκ Ἀπόλλωνος ὀργὴν οἶμαι ταῦτα, λοιμικῆς δὲ νόσου κακόν, οὐ θεόπεμπτον, ἀλλ’ αὐτόματον φθοράν, συστάντος τότε καὶ πολλαχῇ, ὥστε καὶ μέχρι τῶν δεῦρο χρόνων ἐκνέμεσθαι τὸν ἀνθρώπινον βίον. ...Ταῦτα τοίνυν εἰρήσεται, ἀνθ’ ὅτου ποτὲ τὸν αὐτὸν ἀπεφηνάμην ἥλιον Ἀπόλλωνι. Καὶ τί πειρώμενος κατασκευάζειν; αἱ λοιμικαὶ νόσοι τὴν μεγίστην ἔχουσι τῆς φθορᾶς πρόφασιν τὸν ἥλιον. ... Τῶν δ’ ὀξέων συμφορῶν αἴτιον Ὅμηρος ὑπεστήσατο τὸν Ἀπόλλωνα, διαρρήδην τοῖς αἰφνιδίοις θανάτοις ἐπιγράφων τὸν θεόν· ... Ἐπειδήπερ οὖν ἕνα μὲν καὶ τὸν αὐτὸν ὑφίσταται τῷ Ἀπόλλωνι τὸν ἥλιον, ἐκ δὲ τοῦ ἡλίου τὰ τοιαῦτα τῶν παθημάτων συνίσταται, φυσικῶς ἐπέστησε τῷ λοιμῷ τὸν Ἀπόλλωνα. 212 HP 8.6: Καὶ ὅτι, καθ’ ὃν καιρὸν συνέβαινε τοὺς Ἕλληνας ἐν τῷ λοιμῷ νοσεῖν, θέρειος ἦν ὁ καιρός, ἤδη πειράσομαι δικάσειν· ὥστε οὐκ ὀργὴν Ἀπόλλωνος, ἀλλ’ αὐτόματον φθορὰν ἀέρος εἶναι τὸ συμβεβηκός. 213 Dawson (1992) 43; for Dawson’s treatment of this passage of Heraclitus see pages 42-44. truth in his writings is to apply an allegorical framework. 214 An important facet of Dawson’s argument is that this, and other hermeneutic strategies were employed to support or to challenge cultural norms and ideals. He identifies three possible ways in which an allegorical reading can be ‘revisionary’: First, it can challenge the literal sense of an established text by offering an alternative meaning. Second, given its challenge to the literal sense, allegory can either endorse or revise culture. On the one hand, if allegory negates countercultural literal senses, it can actually domesticate a subversive text. ... On the other hand, if allegory replaces a literal cultural meaning with a countercultural allegorical meaning, it can criticize or revise culture; on such a reading, cultural classics become defamiliarized and nonsupportive of cultural expectations. Finally, allegory can be used to “textualize” cultural meanings. The target for this revision is not the text read allegorically but the allegorical meanings themselves -- readers are led to view these meanings in a different light precisely because they are now attached to a new text. 215 On the basis of this framework, Dawson argues that Heraclitus sought to make the Homeric texts culturally relevant; divorced from their purely literal meaning the epics could once again enjoy the kind of cultural prestige that they had been denied by the philosophers. 216 That the cultural dimension of not only the Homeric epics but also of the Hebrew scriptures was a concern to the allegorists is evident in the exegetical works of Philo as well. In thinking through problematic or otherwise unfitting passages, both Philo and his predecessors made use of the tools of their Greek counterparts. These included a fundamental understanding of scripture as the ‘original written version of all wisdom’ as well as a belief that the messages contained in scripture necessitated a ‘rhetorical 80 214 See also Dawson (1992) 40-41: ‘We can see, then, that as far as Heraclitus is concerned, allegory is no arbitrary exercise of hermeneutical power over the text; on the contrary, it is the appropriate -- indeed, the necessary -- hermeneutic for the sort of text that Homer has in fact produced.’ 215 Dawson (1992) 35, with some omissions for the sake of brevity. 216 Dawson (1992) 47: the work shows ‘how nonliteral readings could endorse prevailing cultural ideals by supplying culturally appropriate (in this case, philosophically acceptable) allegorical meanings to culturally inappropriate texts.’ Cf. 48: ‘Heraclitus’ fundamental goal is to show that Homer’s epics are culturally fitting only if read allegorically.’ understanding of allegorical composition and reading.’ 217 Alexandrian Jews like Aristobulus and Aristeas often negotiated their immediate cultural context - ancient, Greek-speaking Alexandria - and the philosophical tenets maintained within it with scriptural wisdom by asserting the primary of Mosaic teaching. 218 The result, argues Dawson, is a ‘virtual rewriting when the meanings of non-Jewish texts become the allegorical meanings of the Pentateuch.’ 219 As a Jewish interpreter, Philo lived and wrote within a tradition and cultural context distinctly but not wholly different from that of Heraclitus. On the one hand, each allegorist needed to find a way to justify, in the face of Greek philosophical and theological discourse, the accounts described and depicted in their textual traditions. On the other hand, for Philo the task carried consequences on the religious as well as the cultural levels. 220 One of the ways in which Philo resolved this tension can be seen in his treatment of problematic scriptural descriptions of God. In a series of chapters of his Quod Deus Sit Immutabilis, Philo attributes the need to endow God with human characteristics to the human failure to comprehend anything other than the fact of God’s existence. 221 The treatise as a whole takes as its starting point an exegesis of Genesis 6.4-12; the question that drives this 81 217 As Dawson (1992) phrases it, 75 and 76. 218 Dawson (1992) 81. 219 Dawson (1992) 81. 220 While Heraclitus’ discussion about Homeric allegory clearly had repercussions for members of the cultured and educated intellectual elite, Philo had also to provide a way not just of redeeming the Hebrew scriptures in the face of Greek philosophical criticisms but also of giving Jewish inhabitants of Alexandria a way of practicing their religion in the midst of a predominantly Greek culture. One part of this difficulty arose from the fact that the scriptures contained the law, the prescriptive way of life for the Jewish community; cf. Dawson (1992) 74: ‘The resulting new view of the world also implied a certain kind of behavior, for Philo insists that the original Pentateuch was also a law to be enacted,’ and consider his concern to show that Philo’s ‘revisionary interpretation of culture was reinforced by an insistence on fidelity to the religious practices enjoined as law by scripture.’ 221 Quod Deus Sit Immutabilis (hereafter QDI) 62: ποιὰ γὰρ εἴδη ταῦτά γε καὶ εἰς αἴσθησιν ἐρχόμενα, ὁ δ’ἄρα οὐδὲ τῷ νῷ καταληπτὸς ὅτι μὴ κατὰ τὸ εἶναι μόνον· specific comment is why Moses ‘speak[s] of feet and hands, goings in and goings out in connection with the Uncreated, or of His arming to defend Himself against His enemies?’. 222 These anthropomorphic descriptions are then paired with equally disturbing anthropopathic traits: ‘Why again does he speak of His jealousy, His wrath, His moods of anger, and the other emotions similar to them, which he describes in terms of human nature?’. 223 Philo envisions that Moses responded by invoking the aim of the lawgiver: to work toward the benefit of all who fall within his reach. 224 The imagined audience falls into two groups. One consists of those who are gifted and trained in the discernment of truth; these individuals are able to grasp the divine nature without the need of human attributes. 225 Those in the other group, however, ‘whose natural wit is more dense and dull, or whose early training has been mishandled’ require a fear of God to be ‘brought to wisdom.’ 226 The metaphors with which Philo frames this relationship are both medical and social: individuals in this second group need ‘physicians in the shape of admonishers,’ whose treatment of 82 222 QDI 60: τίνος οὖν ἕνεκα Μωυσῆς βάσεις, χεῖρας, εἰσόδους, | ἐξόδους φησὶν εἶναι μερὶ τὸ ἀγένητον, τίνος δὲ χάριν ὅπλισιν τὴν πρὸς ἐχθρῶν ἄμυναν; All English translations are taken from F. H. Colson and G. H. Whitaker (trans.), Philo of Alexandria: Volume I. (Loeb Classical Library) Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1929. 223 QDI 60: ξιφηφοροῦντα γὰρ <εἰσάγει> καὶ βέλεσι χρώμενον καὶ πνεύμασι καὶ φθοροποιῷ πυρί—καταιγίδα καὶ κεραυνὸν ἑτέροις ὀνόμασι ταῦτα ποιηταὶ προσαγορεύοντες ὅπλα τοῦ αἰτίου φασὶν εἶναι, πρὸς δὲ ἔτι ζῆλον, θυμόν, ὀργάς, ὅσα τούτοις ὅμοια ἀνθρωπολογῶν διεξέρχεται; 224 QDI 61: ἀλλὰ τοῖς πυνθανομένοις ἀποκρίνεται· ὦ οὗτοι, τῷ ἄριστα νομοθετήσοντι τέλος ἓν δεῖ προκεῖσθαι, πάντας ὠφελῆσαι τοὺς ἐντυγχάνοντας. The conscious practice of speaking about or presenting an idea in ‘human terms’ or according to human nature is imitated and acknowledged by Paul in Romans 3:5, on which see below pages 105-115. 225 QDI 61: οἱ μὲν οὖν εὐμοίρου φύσεως λαχόντες καὶ ἀγωγῆς ἐν πᾶσιν ἀνυπαιτίου, τὴν μετὰ ταῦθ’ ὁδὸν τοῦ βίου λεωφόρον καὶ εὐθεῖαν εὑρίσκοντες, ἀληθείᾳ συνοδοιπόρῳ χρῶνται, παρ’ ἧς μυηθέντες τὰ περὶ τοῦ ὄντος ἀψευδῆ μυστήρια τῶν γενέσεως οὐδὲν προσαναπλάττουσιν αὐτῷ. The description of this group continues through the beginning of 63. 226 QDI 63: οἱ δέ γε νωθεστέρᾳ μὲν καὶ ἀμβλείᾳ κεχρημένοι τῇ φύσει, περὶ δὲ τὰς ἐν παισὶ τροφὰς πλημμεληθέντες, ὀξὺ καθορᾶν ἀδυνατοῦντες ἰατρῶν δέονται νουθετητῶν, οἳ πρὸς τὸ παρὸν πάθος τὴν οἰκείαν ἐπινοήσουσι θεραπείαν· their patients will be appropriate to their ailment, and they are ‘ill-disciplined and foolish slaves [who] receive profit from a master who frightens them.’ 227 Philo maintains that the lawgiver made the correct choice in allowing for the representation of God as menacing and angry, since it is by virtue of such descriptions the ‘fool is admonished.’ 228 He locates the basis of this claim in the fact that the law itself exhorts its audience by commands either to love the Lord or to fear him; the former is most suitable to those who have the capacity to envision God without anthropomorphic and anthropopathic qualities and the latter for those who cannot. 229 This formulation allows Philo to preserve the literal meaning and often the narrative of the scriptures but importantly, with a specific purpose, and to open up that same scripture for meanings and interpretations beyond the letter itself. 230 Philo also provides a means by which those capable may arrive at the true meaning of the law. He argues that human language is too limited to express the entirety of God, and that this deficiency stems from humankind’s inability to fully comprehend the divine nature in the first place; even those who are properly trained do not picture God ‘with form, but admit to their minds the conception of existence 83 227 QDI 64: ἐπεὶ καὶ ἀναγώγοις καὶ ἄφροσιν οἰκέταις φοβερὸς δεσπότης ὠφέλιμος, τὰς γὰρ ἐπανατάσεις καὶ ἀπειλὰς αὐτοῦ δεδιότες ἄκοντες φόβῳ νουθετοῦνται. μανθανέτωσαν οὖν πάντες οἱ τοιοῦτοι τὰ ψευδῆ, δι’ ὧν ὠφεληθήσονται, εἰ μὴ δύνανται δι’ ἀληθείας σωφρονίζεσθαι. 228 QDI 68: τοῦτον δὴ τὸν τρόπον ἤλπισεν ἐκκόψαι δυνήσεσθαι, εἰ χρώμενον ἀπειλαῖς καὶ ἀγανακτήσεσι καὶ ἀπαραιτήτοις ὀργαῖς, ἔτι δὲ ἀμυντηρίοις ὅπλοις πρὸς τὰς κατὰ τῶν ἀδικούντων ἐπεξόδους εἰσαγάγοι τὸ αἴτιον· μόνως γὰρ οὕτως ὁ ἄφρων νουθετεῖται. 229 QDI 69: παρό μοι δοκεῖ τοῖς προειρημένοις δυσὶ κεφαλαίοις, τῷ τε ὡς ἄνθρωπος καὶ τῷ οὐχ ὡς ἄνθρωπος ὁ θεὸς ἕτερα δύο συνυφῆναι ἀκόλουθα καὶ συγγενῆ, φόβον τε καὶ ἀγάπην· τὰς γὰρ διὰ τῶν νόμων εἰς εὐσέβειαν ὁρῶ παρακελεύσεις ἁπάσας ἀναφερομένας ἢ πρὸς τὸ ἀγαπᾶν ἢ πρὸς τὸ φοβεῖσθαι τὸν ὄντα. τοῖς μὲν οὖν μήτε μέρος μήτε πάθος ἀνθρώπου περὶ τὸ ὂν νομίζουσιν, ἀλλὰ θεοπρεπῶς αὐτὸ δι’ αὐτὸ μόνον τιμῶσι τὸ ἀγαπᾶν οἰκειότατον, φοβεῖσθαι δὲ τοῖς ἑτέροις. 230 On narrative in Philo see Dawson (1992) passim 83-126, but especially 100. only.’ 231 When one reads, then, of descriptions of God’s wrath, Philo argues that it is not really wrath itself but a property common to men that has been inappropriately ascribed to God (even if for the purpose of reaching the untrained). The predication of such a property of God can only be accomplished through catachresis, the misapplication of a word in a way other than its normal sense. In one example, Philo exhorts us as follows: We must return to the original question which caused this difficulty, namely, what thought is suggested by the words “I was wroth in that I made them.” ... Now the passion of wrath, which is properly speaking an attribute of men, is here used in a more metaphorical sense, yet still correctly, of the Existent, to bring out a vital truth... 232 The revelation of truth is at the heart of Philo’s hermeneutic and his readings consistently stress the moral aspect of the law. 233 His focus on the ethical messages of scripture has been central to a scholarly debate over Philo’s relationship to Hellenistic culture and philosophy. A more traditional strand of scholarship has argued that Philo sought to establish the Hebrew scriptures and ideals within his cultural and intellectual context by elucidating the moral and philosophical parallels between the two. 234 On this reading, the scriptures themselves become secondary to Hellenistic philosophy; the exegete’s concern is with 84 231 QDI 55: οἱ μὲν οὖν ψυχῆς ἑταῖροι νοηταῖς καὶ ἀσωμάτοις φύσεσιν ἐνομιλεῖν δυνάμενοι οὐδεμιᾷ τῶν γεγονότων ἰδέᾳ παραβάλλουσι τὸ ὄν, ἀλλ’ ἐκβιβάσαντες αὐτὸ πάσης ποιότητος —ἓν γάρ τι τῶν εἰς τὴν μακαριότητα αὐτοῦ καὶ τὴν ἄκραν εὐδαιμονίαν ἦν τὸ ψιλὴν ἄνευ χαρακτῆρος τὴν ὕπαρξιν καταλαμβάνεσθαι—τὴν κατὰ τὸ εἶναι φαντασίαν μόνην ἐνεδέξαντο μὴ μορφώσαντες αὐτό. 232 QDI 70-71: ἐπανιτέον δὲ ἐπὶ τὴν ἐξ ἀρχῆς σκέψιν, καθ’ ἣν ἠποροῦμεν, τίνα ὑπογράφει νοῦν τὸ ἐθυμώθην ὅτι ἐποίησα αὐτούς ... τὸ δὲ κυριολογούμενον ἐπ’ ἀνθρώπων πάθος ὁ θυμὸς εὐθυβόλως εἴρηται τροπικώτερον ἐπὶ τοῦ ὄντος εἰς τὴν ἀναγκαιοτάτου πράγματος δήλωσιν... See Dawson (1992) 93 for a discussion of this. 233 Dawson (1992) 98-102; Philo’s emphasis on morality is noted by most commentators. 234 For the more standard account of the motivations behind and intended consequences of Philo’s exegetical practice see (very briefly) Henry Chadwick, The Church in Ancient Society. From Galilee to Gregory the Great. Oxford University Press, 2001, 32-35; for a survey of approaches and a discussion of Philo’s social context, see Peter Borgen, ‘Philo of Alexandria as Exegete,’ in Hauser and Watson (2003) 114-143. showing how Judaism fits with the intellectual traditions of the dominant culture in Alexandria. 235 In contrast, Dawson has demonstrated how Philo’s hermeneutic strategy had quite different aims. On his reading, Philo ‘redefines general philosophy in terms of scripture’s distinctive features;’ it is not that Philo made Judaism and its beliefs more normative through an emphasis on commonly held notions and opinions, but rather that he claimed that those Hellenistic beliefs could be found in scriptural, which is to say Mosaic, teaching. 236 Philo’s hermeneutic was thus intended to comment on contemporary cultural concerns as well. His preservation of the literal sense and narrative of scripture also allowed for the preservation of Jewish history and identity; his allegorical reading of the text allowed for members of his community to recognize and share in the culture of their peers. 237 The sorts of problems that the Homeric epics and Hebrew scriptures posed to the fundamental philosophical and theological claims to the immutability, impassibility, and incorporeality of the supreme deity were similarly troublesome to Christians. In the fourth chapter, we shall see how Lactantius’ predecessors and contemporaries in the Latin-writing Christian tradition approached and negotiated the problem of divine anger; my intent at this 85 235 See for example the criticisms of Klein et al (1993) 26: Philo ‘sought to reconcile the Hebrew Scriptures with the philosophy of Plato,’ and ‘Philo tends to ignore the real differences between biblical ideas and those of Greek philosophy. It is hard to escape the conclusion that ultimately Philo’s interpretation depended more upon platonic philosophy than upon the Bible,’ 26-27, and compare with Dawson’s argument: ‘Thus in various ways does Philo subordinate classical meanings, texts, and authors to scripture. His allegorical reading of scripture brings the images and concepts prevalent in his Hellenistic culture into direct relation to scripture. In fact, by reading scripture allegorically, Philo treats scripture as a rewriting of previously written cultural ideals.’ (1992, 110). 236 Dawson (1992) 113, on the figure of Moses in Philo see also 110-112. For Philo, Moses carries the authority of the divine and was the author of the law. On questions of inspired authorship and the legitimacy of texts, see Jed Wyrick, The Ascension of Authorship: Attribution and Canon Formation in Jewish, Hellenistic, and Christian Traditions. Harvard University Press, 2004, especially 136-202 (although the concern here is with Josephus the material discussed is equally relevant to Philo). 237 See Dawson (1992) 124: ‘Philo is portraying classical virtues as features of Jewish practice for a Jewish audience. On this reading of the description, Philo does not seek to persuade Greeks to become Jewish, but to convince Jews that they can assimilate some measure of classical pagan culture even (or especially) while attending synagogue.’ moment is to consider the methods that one Christian exegete, Origen, employed to interpret problematic scriptural passages. Although Origen, like Heraclitus and Philo, remained at a considerable remove from Lactantius, his interpretative system was both informed by Greek philosophy and become formative for those who chose to operate within an allegorical hermeneutic. 238 An examination of Origen’s exegetical practice provides us with two avenues of comparison: the first, as a voice of Christian exegetical practice in contrast to Greek philosophical and Jewish theological interpretation, and the second as one of several Christian exegetical approaches within the Greek and Latin-writing Christian intellectual communities. 239 Origen’s perspective on and interpretation of the incorporeality of God will serve as the basis for this discussion. Christians faced opposition similar to that against which Philo was writing in his treatise, they too had inherited (of their own volition) a series of texts in which the supreme deity was described in anthropomorphic and anthropopathic language. 240 As Karen Jo Torjesen succinctly states, ‘among Christians, the crisis was generated by the confrontation 86 238 Origen’s relationship to Platonism has been well documented in the scholarship cited below (nn. xx-xx) as has his influence on the Christian exegetical tradition. 239 This consideration of Origen’s exegetical practice should be kept in mind in the fourth chapter as well, as it serves as an example of a very different approach than those undertaken by the second and third-century Latin-writing apologists and theologians. 240 With the significant exception of the theological issues raised by the suffering and death of Jesus, the criticism leveled at Christians was directed at the types of representations of God that are found in the texts of the Old Testament, texts (and thus problems) which Christians thus inherited, or more properly appropriated, from Judaism. For discussions about the adoption of the Hebrew scriptures by Christians and what the content of those scriptures would have included see for example David Stern, ‘On Canonization in Rabbinic Judaism,’ in Margalit Finkelberg and Guy Stroumsa (eds.) Homer, the Bible, and Beyond. Literary and religious Canons in the Ancient World. Leiden: Brill, 2003, 227-252 and Donald H. Juel, ‘Interpreting Israel’s Scriptures in the New Testament,’ in Hauser and Watson 2003, 283-303, Hauser and Watson’s Introduction to the volume is also sensitive to these issues (1-54). On the level of social interaction and literary representation, for a history of the scholarship on the question of Jewish-Christian ‘relations’ and a call for a post-colonial critic’s approach to the material, see Andrew S. Jacobs, ‘The Lion and the Lamb: Reconsidering Jewish-Christian Relations in Antiquity,’ in Adam Becker and Annette Reed (eds.), The Ways that Never Parted: Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2007, 95-118. of a philosophical conception of divine incorporeality with biblical anthropomorphism.’ 241 Just as Heraclitus, Philo, and others, Christians developed allegorical strategies for explaining such representations and moreover for offering an interpretation of them that would be consonant with their own cultural and intellectual traditions and inheritances. That a Christian employed allegory, however, did not necessitate that the same type of allegory was used by every Christian exegete or that there existed a standard exegetical practice. Whereas early scholarship on Christian patristic exegesis developed the divide between Alexandrian and Antiochean methods, described as a tension between allegory and literalism, more recent 87 241 Karen Jo Torjesen, ‘The Enscripturation of Philosophy: The Incorporeality of God in Origen’s Exegesis,’ in Christine Helmer (ed.) with T. Petrey, Biblical Interpretation: History, Context, and Reality. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature, 2005, 76. She continues: ‘The God who is seen and heard, who is angry and repents, who strikes and succours, resisted any easy assimilation to the abstract categories of the unity, simplicity, formlessness, and incorporeality of the divine. When the irresistible force of philosophical thought collided with the immovable object of anthropomorphizing biblical language, the collision created a different kind of cataclysm. In his fine article “The Incorporeality of God,” Guy Stroumsa demonstrates that biblical anthropomorphism was equally dangerous in two quite different aspects. On the one hand, when simple believers read the Bible, the anthropomorphic language made them stubbornly resistant to the fructifying insights of philosophy and the serious claims of rational thought. On the other hand, the insistence on the utter transcendence of God led the gnostics to reject the Old Testament altogether. Stroumsa argues that only allegorical interpretation of biblical anthropomorphism could chart a course between the Scylla of anthropomorphizing and the Charybis of gnostic dualism.’ The full citation for Stroumsa is ‘The Incorporeality of God. Context and Implications of Origen’s Position.’ Religion 13 (1983), 345-358 and is worth consultation, despite a now outdated discussion of the Gnostics (for a good survey of the issues at stake in thinking about ‘Gnosticism’ and a history of its treatment in scholarship, see especially Karen King, What is Gnosticism? Harvard University Press, 2003). That such anthropomorphic language continued to present problems in very different contexts, see for example on the medieval Jewish thinkers Saadia Gaon and Bahya Ibn Paquda, Diana Lobel, ‘Speaking about God: Bahya as Biblica Exegete,’ in Charles Manekin and R. Eisen (eds.), Philosophers and the Jewish Bible. University of Maryland Press, 2008, 11-40. studies have sought to challenge the fixity of these categories. 242 The attention paid to individual approaches has led to a greater appreciation of the methodological nuances that distinguish one exegete from another, as well as the ways in which some Christian interpreters identified their own work as informed by and representative of a specific exegetical school. 243 In his attempt to negotiate the philosophical doctrine of incorporeality with the anthropomorphizing scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, Origen relies on a rhetorical argument that prioritizes the allegorical meaning of the text. One cannot read scripture merely according to the letter, he argues, but rather must also seek to discern its spiritual meaning: Now the cause, in all the points previously enumerated, of the false opinions, and of the impious statements or ignorant assertions about God, appears to be nothing else than the not understanding the Scripture according to its spiritual meaning, but the interpretations of it agreeably to the mere letter. And therefore, to those who believe that the sacred books are not the compositions of men, but that they were composed by inspiration of the Holy Spirit, agreeably to the will of the Father of all 88 242 Margaret M. Mitchell provides a concise and useful summary of the problem and its treatment in her ‘Patristic Rhetoric on Allegory: Origen and Eustathius Put 1 Samuel 28 on Trial,’ Journal of Religion 85.3 (2005) 414-425 at 414-420. Frances M. Young has published widely and persuasively on this matter; one can benefit not only from her insights but also from the revisions to her original thesis across publications. See for example the following articles and book chapters: ‘The rhetorical schools and their influence on patristic exegesis,’ in Rowan Williams (ed.), The Making of Orthodoxy: Essays in Honour of Henry Chadwick. Cambridge University Press 1989, 182-199; ‘Reception and appropriation’ and ‘Allegoria and theoria,’ in eadem, Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture. Cambridge University Press, 1997, 9-28 and 161-185 respectively; and ‘The Fourth Century Reaction against Allegory,’ in Studia Patristica 30 (1997) 120-125. The representation of the Alexandrian and Antiochene schools as starkly divided between allegorical and literal hermeneutics can be found in many surveys and compendia of the history of interpretation, the history of the early Church, and literary criticism. 243 Mitchell (2005) 414-415. things through Jesus Christ, and that they have come down to us, we must point out the ways (of interpreting them) which appear (correct) to us. 244 Like Heraclitus, Origen appeals to a true meaning of the text that can be found through a specific kind of reading and like Philo, he gives space to the literal reading and meaning of the text. Further, both Philo and Origen find fault with those who rely upon the literal meaning of the text, and both exegetes find such individuals wanting in intelligence and in understanding of the divine nature. 245 In the case of Philo, however, the literal text serves a distinct purpose: to compel individuals, through psychological manipulation, to fear their God. It also gives them a way of expressing that which they cannot conceive of as being without expression, that is, the God that they cannot perceive to be just Being. That humans can lack this capacity is a fact that, according to Philo’s theory, was known by the lawgiver and was the motivation for his expression of God in anthropomorphic and anthropopathic language. Origen takes a much different stance; one component of his hermeneutic is that those who do read the scriptures literally are committing an impious act. He holds that a literal reading of the scriptures is what led to 89 244 De Principiis 4.2.2: Αἰτία δὲ πᾶσι τοῖς προειρημένοις ψευδοδοξιῶν καὶ ἀσεβειῶν ἢ ἰδιωτικῶν περὶ θεοῦ λόγων οὐκ ἄλλη τις εἶναι δοκεῖ ἢ ἡ γραφὴ κατὰ τὰ πνευματικὰ μὴ νενοημένη, ἀλλ’ ὡς πρὸς τὸ ψιλὸν γράμμα ἐξειλημμένη. διόπερ τοῖς πειθομένοις μὴ ἀνθρώπων εἶναι συγγράμματα τὰς ἱερὰς βίβλους, ἀλλ’ ἐξ ἐπιπνοίας τοῦ ἁγίου πνεύματος βουλήματι τοῦ πατρὸς τῶν ὅλων διὰ Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ ταύτας ἀναγεράφθαι καὶ εἰς ἡμᾶς ἐληλυθέναι, τὰς φαινομένας ὁδοὺς ὑποδεικτέον, ἐχομένοις τοῦ κανόνος τῆς Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ κατὰ διαδοχὴν τῶν ἀποστόλων οὐρανίου ἐκκλησίας. All English translations are from Frederick Crombie. Origen: On First Principles (Ante-Nicene Fathers Vol. 4). Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1885. As John David Dawson puts it, Origen exhorts his allegorical readers to ‘look for the spiritual (which is to say, the real) import of the letter, rather than a meaning in place of the letter.’ Christian Figural Reading and the Fashioning of Identity. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2002, 54 (his emphasis). 245 Origen’s criticism of such an audience is especially pointed. Stroumsa (1983) links this assault to Origen’s belief that exegesis is necessary for the understanding of scripture and for the reconciliation of Greek philosophical tenets with biblical anthropomorphisms; to refuse to engage in exegesis is to allow for the confrontation of these two competing ideas (broadly construed). Origen remains antagonistic towards the ‘simple’ people who cannot see past the literal meaning throughout his corpus (in his Homily on Genesis 9.2 he writes that ‘the stupidity of some Christians is heavier than the sand of the sea’); see Stroumsa (1983) 346 and 352-355, where he compares this view with Augustine’s (who, like Philo, comes across as more willing to allow that with guidance and instruction, such individuals can be trained to read correctly). the Jews’ inability to recognize the true identity of Jesus, and more generally, those who do engage in such readings must believe of God the sorts of things that ‘they would not believe of the most unjust and savage of men.’ 246 The literal text of the scriptures, which for Philo existed as a didactic and disciplinary tool for humankind, is so contemptible to Origen that he accuses those who believe it of impiety and slander. He takes the additional step of relegating the proper interpretation of scripture to those who already understand that the scripture itself is the inspired word of God rather than the creation of human beings; only the former group are capable of being taught correct interpretative practices. 247 Origen’s attack on anthropomorphism brings to light two issues relevant to our study of Lactantius. The first is that in crafting an argument against anthropomorphic representations of God, Origen can be shown to deploy rhetorical strategies; it is not just that he formulated his case in a rhetorical fashion but that the basis of that case is found in 90 246 De Principiis 4.2.1. 247 Wyrick (2004) explains the issue of divine inspiration (with respect to authorship) in Jewish and Christian theology as follows: ‘Christian biblical exegetes combined Jewish and Greek views on writers’ relationships to texts to create a new concept - authorship as critically and ecclesiastically authenticated prophecy. The principal component of this notion of authorship was the Jewish belief of divine composition as recorded in writing by human prophets. The Church Fathers took strong note of the positions of major churches and past authorities on the value of a given text; but they also promoted attribution analysis as a decisive factor in authenticating prophecy. In effect, the Christian notion of authorship required that the writing had been accomplished truthfully (in the author’s own name), and that it be a vehicle for the divine truth (the Word of God). For the Church Fathers, an authoritative composition represented the words of its author and the word of God at one and the same time. The Christian conceptualization of authorship was crafted from a Jewish metal, but was shaped on the anvil of Greek attribution analysis - the means by which a text was verified as having been composed by the writer to whom it was attributed. Significantly, this version of authorship did not require that the contributions of human authors to a prophetic text be rigorously separated from its sacred component; to the contrary, it depended on the continuing amalgamation of human and divine.’ (6-7) rhetorical as well as philosophical argumentation. 248 This is a discussion that we will take up in the next chapter with respect to Lactantius. The second point is that Origen’s disavowal of any sort of literal reading of scripture, and his attack on those who did believe or put stock in such readings, brings Lactantius’ unabashed defense of God’s wrath into sharper focus. The traditions upon and against which Lactantius constructed his argument consisted not only of the Stoics and Epicureans whom he singles out for debate, but also of the representatives of the classical Greco-Roman, Judaic, and Christian exegetical traditions. Although Lactantius did not write the kinds of exegetical commentaries for which some of his peers are so well known, we derive a glimpse of his reading of those scriptures from the way in which he draws upon them in De ira Dei. Despite Lactantius’ claim to have avoided arguments made on the basis of scripture, he nonetheless relies on scriptural themes and parallels, particularly those culled from the books of the Old Testament, at precise moments in the treatise. Three moments in De ira Dei are illustrative of this approach: Lactantius’ framing of the relationship between the master and the slave (5.12-5.14); his argument for the necessity of evil (13.13; 13.17); and the clarification and differentiation of his definition of anger (17.7; 17.11-12; 17.17; 17.20-21). We shall consider each of these below. In the fifth chapter of the treatise, Lactantius first introduces the idea of the master and the slave as a useful analogy for thinking about the relationship between God and humans, placing a special emphasis on the logical necessity of anger. The lead-in to this discussion is an attack on the Stoic idea of a God who is free from vicious emotions, a God 91 248 Both Mitchell (2005) and Young (1997) use Eustathius’ criticisms of Origen’s exegesis of 1 Samuel 28 as a lens through which to work out the intricacies of the effect of rhetorical training and argumentation in Origen’s exegetical method. Torjesen (2005) also comes to this conclusion in her essay about Origen’s handling of God’s incorporeality: ‘Incorporated into exegetical preaching was a fourth strategy for asserting the incorporeality of God in the face of anthropomorphizing scriptures. It is what I call a rhetorical manipulation of religious sensibilities.’ (82). Origen was in addition a rhetorical reader, his own interaction with the texts was heavily influenced by the rules and principles of rhetoric. who is envisioned to be incapable of inflicting injury on anyone. 249 He stresses this point with a series of oppositions: the Stoics apply their idea of the virtuous man to God in the belief that for both it is better to adhere to one set of behaviors (to do good, to heal, and to save) than to be guilty of having committed another (to injure, to kill, and to destroy). 250 A verse from Deuteronomy lies at the heart of these contradictory actions: ‘See now that I, even I, am he; there is no god besides me. I kill and I make alive; I wound and I heal; and no one can deliver from my hand.’ 251 Whereas Lactantius presents the Stoic argument as one that maintains that it is only possible to do one and not the other, Lactantius himself echoes the Deuteronomic expression of God’s power to embrace such contradictions. The inclusivity of this claim is reminiscent of Lactantius’ arguments elsewhere in the treatise, including his reasoning for the anger and kindness of God. It is never the case that God can 92 249 ID 5.5-6: Abesse igitur ab eo tam magnum, tam perniciosum malum oportere. Et si absit ab eo ira et concitatio, quia et deformis et noxia est, nec cuiquam male faciat, nihil aliud seperesse nisi ut sit lenis tranquillus proporitius beneficus conservator. Ita enim demum et communis omnium pater et optimus vere maximusque dici poterit, quod expetit divina caelestisque natura. The idea of the calm and benevolent father against which Lactantius argues here is a marked contrast to his own idea of the justifiably emotional dominus. 250 ID 5.7: Nam si inter homines laudabile videtur prodesse potius quam nocere, vivificare quam occidere, salvare quam perdere, nec immerito innocentia inter virtutes numeratur et qui haec fecerit diligitur praefertur ornatur, benedictis omnibus votisque celebratur, denique ob merita et beneficia deo simillimus iudicatur, quanot magis ipsum deum par est, divinis perfectisque virtutibus praecellentem atque ab moni labe terrena submotum, divinis et caelestibus beneficiis omne genus hominum promereri? The precise parallel is in the verbs vivificare and salvare (see Ingremeau [1982] 241-2, who notes that the prior verb pairing [prodesse...nocere] is classical, as in e.g. Cicero De Officiis 3.25, which Lactantius cites elsewhere). 251 Deuteronomy 32.39. All English translations of the Old Testament and the New are from the New Revised Standard Version. Lactantius’ citation of Deuteronomy here also points to his privileging of the scriptural text, particularly this legalistic book of the Old Testament, over and against the ethical teachings of the Stoics (as he represents them). On the structure of Deuteronomy and in particular its exhortative strategies, see Todd Penner and Caroline Vander Stichele, ‘Rhetorical Practice and Performance in Early Christianity,’ in Erik Gunderson (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Ancient Rhetoric. Cambridge University Press, 2009, 245-260 at 250: ‘The book of Deuteronomy, for instance, is filled with various hortatory speeches delivered by Moses, which culminate in his departing address in chapters 29-30. This so-called “deuteronomic tradition” is critical for the development of both Jewish and early Christian discourse in which Moses and the Law/Torah play a prominent role.’ be or have only one thing or another, or that he can have nothing, but rather that he has both elements of a pair. 252 Indeed, this idea forms part of Lactantius’ refutation of the claim that God can have only kindness but not anger, an idea which he attributes to the Stoics. To illustrate the faults of such an argument, Lactantius moves on to another discussion of the analogy of the master and slaves. In Lactantius’ mind, the connection between love and hatred (and between kindness and anger) is clear from his description of this social relationship: If any master has a good and a bad slave in his household, clearly he does not hate both or confer honor and favors on both. For if he does this he is both unjust and foolish. But he addresses the good one in a friendly manner, he honors him and appoints him to the command of his house and family and all of his own things, but he punishes the bad one with reproaches, with whippings, with nakedness, hunger, thirst, with fetters, so that by these things the latter may be an example to others to keep them from sinning, and the former to gain favor, so that fear may restrain some, and honor excite others. ... And just as he who loves confers good things on those whom he loves, so he who hates inflicts evils upon those whom he hates. Because this proof is true it can be dissolved by no means. 253 The core of this passage is drawn from a parable that appears in both the Gospel of Matthew (24:45-ff) and that of Luke (12:24-48 but especially 35-48). 254 In each version of the parable, Jesus tells the story of a master who has unexpectedly come home. If this 93 252 Lactantius’ repetition of the existence of such opposing pairs runs throughout the first six chapters of the treatise and can be found beyond these as well. We have touched on this topic in the first chapter, but in the following chapter we shall consider the roots of this kind of argument in classical rhetoric and the ways in which Lactantius uses them to construct his defense. 253 ID 5.12-5.14 (with the lines omitted from the quotation above): Si quis dominus habens in familia servos bonum ac malum: utique non aut ambos odit aut ambos beneficiis et honore prosequitur - quod si faciat, et iniquus et stultus est - sed bonum adloquitur amice et ornat et domui ac familiae suisque rebus omnibus praeficit, malum vero maledictis verberibus nuditate fame siti conpedibus punit, ut et his exemplo ceteris sit ad non peccandum et ille ad promerendum, ut alios metus coerceat, alios honor provocet. Qui ergo diligit, et odit, qui odit, et diligit; sunt enim qui diligi debeant, sunt qui odio haberi. Et sicut is qui diligit confert bona in eos quos diligit, ita qui odit inrogat mala his quos odio habet; quod argumentum quia verum est, dissolvi nullo pacto potest. 254 On the parable in its Matthean form and as part of a more contextual study of slaves and slavery in the New Testament, see Jennifer A. Glancy, ‘Slaves and Slavery in the Matthean Parables,’ Journal of Biblical Literature 119.1 (2000), 67-90. master discovers that his slaves have behaved well and are alert upon his arrival, he rewards them; if however he finds that the slave believed him to have been delayed, has beaten other slaves and has otherwise abused the master’s property, the master will ‘cut him into pieces.’ 255 In its scriptural context, the passage is meant to be an allegory for what will occur upon the return of Jesus; the eschatological point of the story is that he can return at any moment and that those who worship him should be prepared for that arrival and the judgment that will come with it. 256 Lactantius’ paraphrase of the parable omits the theological elements and construes the story as a simple metaphor of the master and slave relationship, wherein the master’s reaction to the state of affairs he discovers upon his return is illustrative of the natural balance and coexistence of love and hate. While the language that Lactantius adopts to express this idea is ultimately scriptural, he also locates a classical parallel in the figure of Archytas of Tarentum. 257 Later in the treatise, Lactantius mocks those who tout Archytas as an example of restrained rage; in his telling of the account, 94 255 Matthew 24:51 (‘He will cut him in pieces and put him with the hypocrites, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth’) and Luke 12:46 (‘the master of that slave will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour that he does not know, and will cut him in pieces, and put him with the unfaithful’). The notes to each version of the parable mark it as intended to be read allegorically. Luke’s version has an additional verse in which the severity of the punishments are meted out according to the degree to which a slave knew or did not know what was required of him. The slave who knew what was expected receives a severe beating, but the one who did not know, although he sinned, will receive a lesser beating. 256 In Matthew the parable comes before three parables about the return of Jesus and the final judgment; in Luke it is followed by a proclamation about the ‘time of judgment (12:49-59). Glancy (2000) 68 mentions the metaphorical meaning of this, and related parables with bibliography. 257 On Archytas’ moral character as represented in the literary sources, see Carl Huffman, ‘Moral Philosophy and Character,’ in idem, Archytas of Tarentum: Pythagorean, Philosopher, and Mathematician King. Cambridge University Press, 2005, 283-341 at 288-292 (with specific discussion of Lactantius’ reference to the anecdote at 289). Huffman fleshes out the testimonia he gives (283-288) by noting that the ‘basic point of this anecdote about Archytas and the similar ones about Plato is that one should never punish in anger (D.L. VIII. 20 has Pythagoras himself make the point). ... Applied to the specific circumstances of punishing when controlled by anger, the point would be that, if we punish in anger, we will punish unjustly. This in turn could be judged morally problematic for two different reasons: (1) the person punished will suffer unjustly, (2) the person punishing will act unjustly and hence harm his own soul. ... The startling fact that the slaves escape all punishment is precisely what makes this version so memorable.’ (288) He goes on to discuss the account given by the ‘dour Lactantius.’ See 283-288 for the testimonia for the Archytas version and cf. Ingremeau (1982) 341. Archytas is praised for having stopped himself from beating a slave who ruined his estate and for telling the slave that he would have beaten him had he not been angry. 258 In the first place, Lactantius takes issue with Archytas’ forbearance with the slave: ‘it is a fault,’ he writes, ‘not to check the faults of slaves and children; for through their escaping without punishment they will proceed to greater evil.’ 259 The only situation in which Archytas’ self- restraint would have been appropriate is if he had been angry at ‘any citizen or equal who injured him’ -- proper anger is reserved for those who are inferior to the individual holding authority but anger is inappropriate when directed towards those who are equal to or above an individual in power or stature. 260 The models of the power dynamic and that of reward and punishment provided by the analogy of the master and the slave are indicative of the way in which Lactantius alludes to scriptural sources and associates them with examples drawn from stories familiar to those who were versed in the moral and ethical literature of the classical tradition. By refraining from a direct quotation or nominal reference to the parable, Lactantius allows for the story to remain at a comfortable distance from the explicit scriptural accounts that his opponents so detest while simultaneously leaving open the possibility for a knowledgeable (Christian) 95 258 Lactantius discusses the correct set of behaviors necessary for the punishment of slaves, with criticisms of Archytas’ handling of his own slaves at 18.4-18.9 and 18.12. 259 ID 18.12: servorum autem filiorumque peccata non coercere peccatum est; evadent enim ad maius malum per impunitatem. 260 ID 18.12: esset igitur laudandus Archytas si, cum alicui civi et pari facienti sibi iniuriam fuisset iratus, repressisset se tamen et patientia furoris impetum mitigasset. Lactantius is not alone in thinking that anger has a specific and just use in specific contexts. Aristotle’s definition of anger in his Rhetoric, for example, stresses the social aspect and utility of the emotion as one properly directed towards those whom we regard we below us in power and status. For an overview of the moral dimensions of anger in antiquity see William V . Harris, Restraining Rage: The Ideology of Anger Control in Classical Antiquity. Harvard University Press, 2001 (and especially ‘The Roman Version,’ 201-228). reader to connect the abbreviated account given in De ira Dei with the Christian parable. 261 The significance of the parable to Lactantius’ understanding of the divine nature and the suitability of anger thereto is underscored by his use of the parable as evidence for the correct view of the intrinsic connection between anger and kindness. Further, his criticism of the classical example of Archytas is not only a direct attack on the Stoics (and Plato, whom he also names), but also an echoing endorsement of the scriptural parable to which he had earlier alluded. Lactantius further manipulates the sense of the story in both its forms by altering the figure with whom his audience is meant to relate. In the literal scriptural account as well as in the classical account, the immediate audience should envision themselves in the role of the master, and their own individual behavior is associated with the behavior that one should expect from God. Yet Lactantius is clear that in his formulation, his audience consists of those who are most like the slaves, and God himself most like the master, the interpretation that one would reach with an allegorical reading of the scriptural passage. 262 Again, however, Lactantius shifts the meaning: the model he presents is not so much eschatological as it is moral, the slave ought to obey and always expect the master lest he (rightfully) react in anger, and not necessarily because the final judgment could come at any moment. 263 That anger is as useful and as appropriate as kindness and that there exists a natural relationship between the reward of the good and the punishment of the wicked is reiterated at the end of the passage quoted above (5.14) and is a theme carried through the next 96 261 For the ways in which such stories would have circulated in the ancient Mediterranean see for example Robin Lane Fox, ‘Literacy and Power in early Christianity,’ in Alan Bowman and Greg Woolf (eds.), Literacy and Power in the Ancient World. Cambridge University Press, 1994, 126-148. 262 ID 17.11, see discussion below at 101-102. 263 This is not to say that the eschatological element was completely absent from Lactantius’ mind, but rather that his immediate concern in the treatise lies within the parameter of human behavior and its consequences. portions of Lactantius’ text, as he continues to argue against the Stoics. Lactantius devotes particular attention to this idea in the thirteenth chapter, where the correlativity of opposites is expressed in terms of the mutual dependence of good and evil. The larger claim in this chapter is that both the Stoics and the Academics misunderstood the problem of evil: the Academics have used it to argue that the world was not made (by god) for humankind, and the Stoics have given the ridiculous reply that there is some benefit even in something that appears bad. 264 Lactantius proposes a solution: They could have answered more concisely and truly in this way: when God had formed man as if in his own image (which was the greatest thing of the divine workmanship), he breathed wisdom into him alone, so that he might subdue all things under his own control and power, and use all the advantages of the world. Nevertheless he set before him both good and evil things, since he gave him wisdom, the whole system of which depends on the discernment of things evil and good. ... Truly, if only good things are put in sight, what need is there for deliberation, intellect, skill, or reason...? 265 The idea that humankind was formed in God’s own image has clear scriptural parallels, but the more important resonance here is that God placed (proposuit) both good and evil before humans. According to Lactantius, it is because God endowed humans alone with wisdom (sapientia), itself the one trait that most links humans to their creator, that they are capable of 97 264 ID 13.10: Quod Stoici veritatem non perspicientes ineptissime reppulerunt. Aiunt enim multa esse in gignentibus et in numero animalium quoarum adhuc lateat utilitatis sed eam processu temporum inventuiri, sicut iam multa prioribus saeculis incognita necessitas et usus invenerit. Lactantius’ presentation of the Stoic position on evil has resonances in Stoic theory about the emotions, in short that it is human judgment of an initial impression that leads one to deem something as good or bad and to have a corresponding emotional reaction. For studies of the emotions in Stoic thought with consideration of the Christian opinion, see (among others) Richard Sorabji, Emotion and Peace of Mind: From Stoic Agitation to Christian Temptation. Oxford University Press, 2000 and Margaret Graver, Stoicism and Emotion. University of Chicago Press, 2007. 265 ID 13.13 and 13.17: Brevis igitur ac verius respondere potuerunt in hunc modum: deus cum formaret hominem veluti simulacrum suum, quod erat divini opificii summum, inspiravit ei sapientiam soli, ut omnia imperio ac dicioni suae subiugaret omnibusque mundi commodis uteretur. Proposuit tamen ei et bona et mala, quia sapientiam dedit cuius omnis ratio in discernendis bonis ac malis sita est. ... Positis enim tantummodo in conspectu bonis quid opus est cogitatione intellectu scientia ratione, cum, quocumque porrecerit manum, id naturae aptum et adcommodatum sit? distinguishing between good and evil; the entire reason (ratio) for which that wisdom exists is to recognize what is good and what is evil and to respond appropriately. 266 Lactantius’ articulation of this idea is phrased in scriptural terms; the lines above are modeled on a passage (chapter 30) from Deuteronomy in which the covenant between God and the Israelites is renewed. Although De ira Dei 13.13 and 13.17 directly echo only two verses from the Deuteronomic passage, the intermediary verses are worth our consideration as well. 267 The passage runs as follows, with the two most relevant verses underlined: See, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity. [16] If you obey the commandments of the Lord your God that I am commanding you today, by loving the Lord your God, walking in his ways, and observing his commandments, decrees, and ordinances, then you shall live and become numerous, and the Lord your God will bless you in the land that you are entering to possess. [17] But if your heart turns away and you do not hear, but are led astray to bow down to other gods and serve them, [18] I declare to you today that you shall perish; you shall not live long in the land that you are crossing the Jordan to enter and possess. [19] I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, [20] loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him... 268 The direct scriptural references are those concerned with God’s creation of both good and evil. What Lactantius’ text lacks is the series of commands and injunctions that round out the idea in the lines from Deuteronomy; the connection between this concept and the law that went with it, however, would again have been in the minds of Lactantius’ Christian audience. At the very least, the connection between the creation of good and evil - and 98 266 It is in this (their possession of sapientia) that humans are also differentiated from beasts, an important idea for Lactantius not only for establishing the superiority of humankind in creation but also for distinguishing just human emotions from the irrational and uncontrolled emotions of animals. See e.g. ID 7 (passim) and 17.14. 267 On the interpretative statements and assumptions involved in adducing such ‘echoes,’ see the comments of Juel in Hauser and Watson (2003) 297-300. 268 See Ingremeau (1982) 306-307 for a discussion of ‘proposuit...bona et mala’ and 309 for ‘positis in conspectu’ in relation to the verses from Deuteronomy. Not unlike the previous example (above pages xx-xx), the immediate context of the ideas that Lactantius incorporates have to do with the privileged status of the one true God above all other gods and an injunction to worship only him. The consequences for not doing so are here made very clear. humankind’s ability to choose one or the other - would have been apparent to Lactantius as he sought to explain the existence of evil. Lactantius’ use of scripture here presents us with a second example in which a biblical source is brought in to refute a Stoic claim. 269 It also gives us some insight into Lactantius’ exegetical practice. This argument comes towards the end of a discussion in which Lactantius maintains that everything in the world was created by God for the sake of humankind; by following his own logic he comes to argue that evil was also created by God. Much as in his consideration of divine anger, Lactantius chooses not to engage in an allegorical or figural interpretation of an idea or concept that traditionally has been given a negative association. While the Stoics, argues Lactantius, interpret an apparent evil as an actual good, what they should do is admit that it is actually an evil and that, because it came from God, it exists for a specific purpose. 270 Here Lactantius subtly deploys a scriptural model as a challenge to the philosophical argument of his opponents. The way in which he does so is illustrative of his methodology: since he knows that these opponents would not accept proof that is explicitly scriptural (such as would be announced by a direct quotation), 99 269 Lactantius had actually agreed with the Stoics until this point. His first concern is to dismiss the Academics who, he writes, challenge the Stoics by asking why, if God made everything for humans’ benefit, there exist things that are contrary to human well-being (3.12). While the Stoics are correct to believe that the world was made by God for the benefit of humans, they were incorrect in their explanation of why evils (mala) exist; it is here that Lactantius draws on the scriptural text to refute a Stoic claim. 270 As in his thinking through anger, Lactantius appears to prefer an attempt to work with apparent reality (anger is anger, evil is evil, etc.) rather than to try to find a way to make that reality fit with an ideal or to argue that it really means something other than what it initially appears to mean. The task that he set for himself, if we can extract it from this treatise, was to discover why things were the way they were - that is, why God created evil (in his view) and not what how we might interpret evil. he incorporates just enough of the Deuteronomic verse to allow for recognition to those familiar with it but not so much as to cast suspicion on his claims. 271 The Deuteronomic excerpt also points to a particular framing of the obedience to the law and the legitimacy of God’s wrath when the law is not obeyed. This is a theme that permeates the treatise. 272 Lactantius often pairs it with presentations of his disagreement with the Stoics on specific points. In the seventeenth chapter of De ira Dei, the issue in question is the correct definition of anger. After sifting through a few possibilities quoted from Greek and Roman philosophers, Lactantius provides his own definition. 273 According to the apologist, anger is ‘a movement of the mind, arising for the restraining of faults.’ 274 The argument that builds up to this definition and its elaboration focuses again on the importance of the law as Lactantius seeks to claim that anger is the only appropriate reaction to an infraction of the divine law. Scriptural references and models are interspersed with his criticisms of the Stoic and Epicurean theories about anger and biblical motifs are interspersed throughout the chapter. In 17.7 for example, Lactantius endorses the view that 100 271 By doing so Lactantius is exemplary of the following idea posited by Penner and Stichele: ‘In fact, an analysis of early Christian oratorical discourse from the vantage point of the Greek and Roman rhetorical handbooks would suggest that, with respect to the deployment of the Hebrew Bible, it is difficult to draw a firm line between exemplum and auctoritas in so far as both scriptural citations and broader narrative references provide “proof-texts” for the argument being developed. Such argumentation presumes the weight of the scriptural texts thus used and secures, in turn, the authority of the material that is cited.’ (2009, 249). The role of Lactantius’ rhetorical training and expertise in his argument in De ira Dei will be explored in the next chapter. 272 We shall temporarily postpone our consideration of this theme, however, until the final chapter. 273 The list comes at 17.13 and includes the definitions of the ‘philosophers’ as presented by Seneca, Posidonius, and Aristotle: Nesciesse autem philosophos quae ratio esset irae apparet ex finitionibus eorum, quas Seneca enumeravit in libris quos de ira composuit: “Ira est, inquit, cupiditas ulciscendae iniuriae aut, ut ait Posidonius, cupiditas puniendi eius a quo te inique putes laesum”; “Quidam ita finierunt: ira est incitatio animi ad nocendum ei qui aut nocuit aut nocere voluit”; “Aristotelis definitio non multum a nostra abest. Ait enim iram esse cupiditatem doloris reponendi.”. Cicero’s definition comes later, at 17.20: Ergo ita definire debuerunt: ira est motus animi ad coercenda peccata insurgentis. Nam definitio Ciceronis, “ira est libido ulciscendi”, non multum a superioribus distat. 274 ID 17.20: Ergo ita definire debuerunt: ira est motus animi ad coercenda peccata insurgentis. both the just law and the good, unbiased judge will uphold a verdict that delivers retribution upon an offender. The belief that each individual will get his due grounds this claim and can be found in Isaiah 35:4, where the emphasis is just as much on the fact of divine vengeance as it is on the idea that one must await it. 275 Lactantius uses this idea to argue that God’s anger and retribution come not from a desire to repay injury but rather from the proper and fitting justice due to both those who obey and those who transgress the law. 276 That God’s anger is not a response to injury and perhaps more importantly, is not intended injuriously, is a crucial component of Lactantius’ idea and definition of divine wrath. 277 The belief that humans are best understood as the slaves of God (already hinted at in chapter five, above) is, however, equally relevant to Lactantius’ position on the matter. Lactantius links the two ideas as follows: For the world is just as the house of God, and men just as his slaves; and if his name is a subject of derision to them, what kind or amount of forbearance is this, that he should cede his own honors to see wicked and unjust things done, and that he should not be indignant, which is peculiar and natural to him to whom sins are displeasing? 278 Lactantius begins with a classical metaphor and quickly shifts to a biblical idea: Cicero would agree that the world is the house of God (mundus...dei domus) but perhaps not that humans 101 275 Isaiah 35:4: ‘Say to those who are of a fearful heart, “Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God. He will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense. He will come and save you”.’ Cf. Psalm 27:4. 276 Here Lactantius reformulates his discussion of the moral and ethical components of anger by closely linking them to the obedience or transgression of the law; the divine law becomes the arbiter of morality. 277 We mentioned this idea in the first chapter, but the terminological precision of Lactantius’ definition of anger will receive extended treatment in chapter three. 278 ID 17.11: Nam mundus tamquam dei domus est et homines tamquam servi; quibus si ludibrio sit nomen eius, qualis aut quanta patientia est? Ut honoribus suis cedat, ut prava et iniqua fieri videat ut non indignetur, quod proprium et naturale est ei cui peccata non placeant? Cf. Ingremeau (1982) 329-330. are the slaves of God (homines...servi). 279 In this instance, Lactantius’ combination of the classical and biblical themes serves as a rebuttal of the Stoic claim for the unsuitability of anger, the attack of which he turns to in the next line. 280 Lactantius’ complaint here is that the Stoics cannot see the difference between right and wrong or between just and unjust anger. The criticism itself is made on moral grounds, but at the same time it echoes his critique of the Stoics in chapter five. There the problem was that the Stoics interpret bad things as good things in disguise, here it is that they cannot discern any difference whatsoever. The scriptural model of humans as the slaves of their master (God) provides Lactantius with the basis for his argument and a framework for understanding the relationship between mortals and the divine. It also allows him to articulate why anger (even if qualified as ira iusta) is fitting for God. Although both just and unjust anger can be found in humans, only just anger can be found in God. 281 Lactantius identifies as one of the attributes of just anger as exercised by God that it is enacts God’s vengeance on those who have transgressed his law. This feature of God’s wrath is made explicit at 17.17: For it is necessary that things which are bad displease one who is good and just, and that he who is displeased with evil is moved when he sees it committed. Therefore 102 279 Ciceronian parallels: De Natura Deorum 2.154; 3.26; De Re Publica 1.19; 3.14; De Legibus 2.26; see also Seneca De Beneficiis 7.1.7. Biblical parallels for dominus...servi and servi Dei: Genesis 50:17; 1 Ezra 5:11; Daniel 3:93; Acts 16:17; I Peter 2:16; Revelation 7:3. 280 ID 17.12: Irasci ergo rationis est; auderuntur enim delicta et refrenatur licentia, quod utique iuste sapienterque fit. Sed Stoici non viderunt esse discrimen recti et pravi, esse iram iustam, esse et iniustam; et quia medellam rei non inveniebant, voluerunt eam penitus excidere. Peripatetici vero non excidendam sed temperandam esse dixerunt; quibus in sexto libro Institutionum respondimus. (See Divinae Institutiones 6.15.2; 6.16.1-11; and 6.19.1-11.) 281 We shall consider Lactantius’ division of anger into the categories of just and unjust as an essential tenet of his argument in the next chapter. we arise to take vengeance, not because we have been injured, but so that discipline may be preserved, morals corrected, and licentiousness suppressed. 282 Drawing upon his argument from the master and slaves metaphor, Lactantius reiterates his point that the observation of incorrect behavior necessitates an angry response. He is careful to distinguish that the subsequent vengeance is not sought out of injury, but rather for three specific purposes: the preservation of discipline, the correction of morals, and the suppression of licentiousness. In doing so he again alludes to biblical ideas of divine wrath and punishment: his phrase ad vindictam establishes a contrast with the noun ultio, which he uses in discussions of unjust anger. 283 With an appropriate object and when it is employed for the sake of justice, anger has a fitting place, unlike the mere desire for revenge on account of which the Stoics (argues Lactantius) view anger as a negative attribute. The judicial and disciplinary aspects of Lactantius’ understanding of divine wrath have scriptural parallels as expressed, for example, in 2 Maccabees. 284 In the sixth chapter of that book, the narrator recounts how Jews were forced to assimilate to Greek religious 103 282 ID 17.17: Necesse est enim bono ac iusto displicere quae prava sunt, et cui malum displicet movetur cum id fieri videt. Ergo surgimus ad vindictam, non quia laesi sumus, sed ut disciplina servetur, mores corrigantur, licentia conprimatur. It is worth quoting the next line here as well, although I omit it from the main text: Haec est ira iusta; quae sicut in homine necessaria est ad pravitatis correctionem, sic utique in deo, a quo ad hominem pervenit exemplum. 283 Cf. Ingremeau (1982) 337 and see Cyprian’s citation of this passage with Proverbs 20:22 at Ad Demetrianum 17; Lactantius uses ultio to describe the unjust anger against which the philosophers rant. 284 See the comments of Ingremeau (1982) 337, who identifies the reference and argues that it indicates that Lactantius had in mind biblical ideas of God’s wrath and divine punishment - although she does not think that he was necessarily aware of the depth of the parallel. A consideration of the excerpt above within its scriptural context, however, suggests that this was an intentional and precise use of the text. For a concise overview of 2 Maccabees with attention paid to its claims about both Judaism and Hellenism, see Martha Himmelfarb, ‘Judaism and Hellenism in 2 Maccabees,’ Poetics Today 19.1 (= Hellenism and Hebraism Reconsidered: The Poetics of Cultural Influence and Exchange I), (1998), 19-40. customs; their failure to do so resulted in punishment and persecution. 285 After recording a story of particular cruelty, the narrator goes on to encourage his audience to take heart: Now I urge those who read this book not to be depressed by such calamities, but to recognize that these punishments were designed not to destroy but to discipline our people. [13] In fact, it is a sign of great kindness not to let the impious alone for long, but to punish them immediately. [14] For in the case of the other nations the Lord waits patiently to punish them until they have reached the full measure of their sins; but he does not deal in this way with us, [15] in order that he may not take vengeance on us afterward when our sins have reached their height. 286 As an explanation for why such terrible evils have befallen the people of God, the perspective presented in this excerpt is repeated in the words of the apologists, like Cyprian, who sought to understand the reason behind the persecution of Christians. As a model for the workings of divine punishment, it resonates with Lactantius’ articulation of the necessity for and principles of divine anger. Those Hebrews who had transgressed the law were made to suffer by means of persecution, it is because they were the chosen people of God that their God enforces his decrees more swiftly than he seeks to punish others. 287 Lactantius extends this to his audience: if one knows God and his law, he can expect to receive God’s punishment for his offenses. Although Lactantius does not continue the connection in order to suggest the immediate punishment of the people of God (Christians, in his view) as 104 285 The book as a whole describes the events preceding the revolt led by Judas Maccabeus and the later adventures of Judas (up to 161 BCE); this chapter includes the attack on Judaism (6:1-11); an interpretation of the persecution of the Jews (6:12-17), and the martyrdom of Eleazar (6:18-31). In chapter six, the suppression of Judaism includes the coercion of Jews to forsake the law of God, to pollute the temple in Jerusalem and rename it a temple of Olympian Zeus; Gentiles filled the temple, behaving lewdly and immorally; and the Jews were forced to participate in sacrifices to the pagan gods (Dionysus is named). The clear parallels to the kinds of measures that were taken against the Christians made this text popular in Christian accounts thereof as well as in apologetic (see for example Cyprian Epistle 55.22) 286 2 Maccabees 6:12-15. 287 What it was that was being punished is unclear from chapter six of 2 Maccabees; the verses leading up to the passage quoted above describe how two women were paraded in front of the crowd and killed for having circumcised their children (10) and how others who had secretly met to observe the Sabbath were all burned together because ‘their piety kept them from defending themselves’ (11). opposed to the delayed punishment of all others, the themes of discipline and restraint remain fundamental to this articulation of divine anger. 288 That divine anger and divine punishment are linked to the equally important idea of God’s kindness towards his people is another theme present in the text from 2 Maccabees and in Lactantius’ treatise. God’s role as the disciplinarian of his people is tied to this point; the Maccabean account stresses that God has punished the Jews for the sake of discipline and Lactantius too sees discipline and restraint as fundamental attributes of God’s wrath. 289 Christiane Ingremeau has taken this emphasis on discipline as indicative of Lactantius’ modeling of his argument on discussion of God’s wrath in the books of the New Testament, particularly the Pauline epistles. 290 As examples, she cites three excerpts from Romans, one from Ephesians and one from Hebrews. 291 While thematic parallels do exist, a closer reading of the passages shows that Paul’s understanding of divine anger and its operation in humans’ lives was distinctly different than the view that Lactantius upholds in De ira Dei. Despite points of contact and agreement, Lactantius’ perspective ultimately bears more resemblance to those expressed by the authors of the Old Testament texts. Taken collectively, the citations from Paul’s epistle to the Romans bear similarity enough to Lactantius’ argument; 1.18-3.20 as a whole consists of an exposition of the idea that God fairly treats those within his power. That God’s judgment will come, that it will be 105 288 The idea of a divine punishment that remains reserved for the impious as expressed in the excerpt above is muted in De ira Dei, but it emphasized in De Mortibus Persecutorum. In the latter text, Lactantius shows how the persecuting emperors eventually came to fitting ends; while he does not attribute this to God’s wrath he does condone the notion that it is related to divine punishment. 289 We have seen this in Lactantius’ definition of anger at 17.20, see also 5.12, 8.9, 12.2, 17.16, 17.19, and 18.10. 290 Ingremeau (1982) 13-16, where she considers the place of Lactantius’ argument about divine anger with respect to the treatments of the topic in the Old and New Testaments. 291 Ingremeau (1982) 15; she cites Romans 1:18-28, 3:20, 4:15; Ephesians 2.3-ff; and Hebrews 12:5-11. just, and that it will be fitting are three essential tenets of De ira Dei. In principle, Lactantius can be seen to be in agreement with Paul, and both write of God’s wrath as it has been and continues to be revealed against the impious, with Paul adding that this is true whether they be Jews or Gentiles. 292 Yet a key difference arises when one considers that Paul clearly states that he speaks of God’s wrath in ‘human terms.’ 293 Paul’s own discussion of divine anger intends for that anger to be understood figuratively, by ‘the wrath of God’ he means God’s response to human action, not the emotion that Lactantius is at pains to defend. Paul’s position on the law is also at stake. In the Pauline formulation in these chapters of Romans, the law is the source of the knowledge of sin (3:20) and as such cannot acquit one of an offense that has been committed. The vindication that is necessary for one who has broken the law only can come from God, through faith in Jesus Christ (3:21-22); any forbearance or forgiveness that God might give has been acquired through Jesus’ sacrifice (3:24-26). With two exceptions, Jesus is a name wholly absent from Lactantius’ treatise, as is the idea of grace or redemption through a mediating party (or anything similar to the Pauline argument). 294 In each presentation of his case, Lactantius relies on the idea of the law and of God as the judge of his own law to establish the relationship between mortals and the divine, and more importantly, to defend the need and justification for God’s wrath. 106 292 Romans 1:18-32 is directed against the Gentiles and 2.17-29 against the Jews. Both Jews and Greeks are addressed in 3:9-ff. For a thorough and nuanced study of the term and idea of the righteousness of God in Romans (with which the passages cited here are ultimately concerned), see Sam K. Williams, ‘The “Righteousness of God” in Romans,’ JBL 99.2 (1980), 241-290. 293 Romans 3:5: ‘But if our injustice serves to confirm the justice of God, what should we say? That God is unjust to inflict wrath on us? (I speak in a human way).’ (εἰ δὲ ἡ ἀδικία ἡμῶν θεοῦ δικαιοσύνην συνίστησιν, τί ἐροῦμεν; μὴ ἄδικος ὁ θεὸς ὁ ἐπιφέρων τὴν ὀργήν; κατὰ ἄνθρωπον λέγω.) 294 Even these mentions are indirect: see ID 2.2, where the third step to truth is to recognize the ministrum...ac nuntium; cf. 2.6 where Jesus is called the legatum dei. Regardless of Lactantius’ ultimate theology and christology, the focus in De ira Dei is first and foremost on God, and Jesus plays no role in his discussion. Paul goes on to claim that ‘the law brings wrath; but where there is no law, neither is there violation.’ 295 This is not say, however, that Paul wants to jettison the law altogether; previously he urged his audience to ‘uphold the law,’ (3:31) and much of chapter four is dedicated to the explication of the notion that justification by faith itself upholds the law. On the one hand, the law is necessary for the delineation of right and wrong, a list of behaviors that are and are not acceptable. On the other hand it is not a means to salvation, the strict obedience to the law (itself impossible because of the sinful nature of humankind) cannot guarantee God’s mercy or forgiveness. For Lactantius, however, it is precisely the obedience to the law that results in God’s favor (gratia) of the pious, and the disobedience of the law that results in God’s anger towards the impious. Unlike Paul who invokes the figure of Christ as a mediator and path to God’s righteousness, Lactantius endorses the model of reward and punishment - the very model which Paul seeks to overturn in Romans. The Pauline configuration of the law as a handmaiden to salvation stands at a significant distance from Lactantius’ conception of it as the principle means for judgment. That grace and rebirth are dependent on Christ’s sacrifice is a theme also found in the second chapter of Ephesians, to which Ingremeau directs us. 296 Here the author draws a distinction between a former time in which the devil ‘killed [humans] through trespasses and sins,’ and the time since the coming of Christ when God, having shown his mercy, allowed 107 295 Romans 4:15: ὁ γὰρ νόμος ὀργὴν κατεργάζεται, οὗ δὲ οὐκ ἔστιν νόμος, οὐδὲ παράβασις. 296 Ingremeau (1982) 15. It is unlikely that Ephesians was written by Paul, but the author (possibly a disciple of Paul) wrote it in his name. See J. Paul Sampley’s brief comments in the preface to the epistle in the NRSV . Although it takes Pauline authorship for granted, see the summary and brief analysis of this letter at Nils Alstrup Dahl, ‘Gentiles, Christians, and Israelites in the Epistle to the Ephesians,’ The Harvard Theological Review 79.1 (1986) 31-39. for salvation through grace. 297 In describing the conditions of life before Christ, the author writes that we all once lived among the disobedient and ‘were by nature children of wrath, like everyone else’ (2:3); the implication is that all humans were subject to God’s wrath and had no recourse to mercy or forgiveness. 298 In Ephesians 5:6-8, the first verse of which is similar to 2:3, the connection between God’s wrath and humans’ disobedience is given a temporal aspect as the author reminds his readers that they once ‘were darkness, but now in the Lord [they] are light’. 299 Here again a key difference from Lactantius’ argument is the apologist’s emphasis on the fact that humans are still in this pre-advent of Christ mode of life. He does not phrase it exactly this way, but his description of the relationship between God and humans omits any temporal distinction that might be made along the lines of the advent of Christ. That both the author of Ephesians and Lactantius view God’s anger (or judgment) as a reality is the extent of the similarity. The insistence of the former on the temporal divide between the pre- and post- advent of Christ and the association thereof with the possibility of grace that resulted from Jesus’ death denote a significantly different theological perspective and argument. God’s anger as a means of discipline remains, however, an ambiguous notion: what form(s) does this discipline take, and what purpose does it have? Ingremeau has identified God’s wrath as having also been a sort of ‘paternal pedagogy,’ meant to guide and correct 108 297 Ephesians 2:4-7: ὁ δὲ θεὸς πλούσιος ὢν ἐν ἐλέει, διὰ τὴν πολλὴν ἀγάπην αὐτοῦ ἣν ἠγάπησεν καὶ ὄντας ἡμᾶς νεκροὺς τοῖς παραπτώμασιν συνεζωοποίησεν τῷ χριστῷ,— χάριτί ἐστε σεσωσμένοι, καὶ — συνήγειρεν καὶ συνεκάθισεν ἐν τοῖς ἐπουρανίοις ἐν Χριστῷ Ἰησοῦ, ἵνα ἐνδείξηται ἐν τοῖς αἰῶσιν τοῖς ἐπερχομένοις τὸ ὑπερβάλλον πλοῦτος τῆς χάριτος αὐτοῦ ἐν χρηστότητι ἐφ᾽ ἡμᾶς ἐν Χριστῷ Ἰησοῦ. τῇ γὰρ χάριτί ἐστε σεσωσμένοι διὰ πίστεως: 298 See also Ephesians 5:6 and Colossians 3:6. 299 Ephesians 5:6-8: Μηδεὶς ὑμᾶς ἀπατάτω κενοῖς λόγοις, διὰ ταῦτα γὰρ ἔρχεται ἡ ὀργὴ τοῦ θεοῦ ἐπὶ τοὺς υἱοὺς τῆς ἀπειθίας. μὴ οὖν γίνεσθε συνμέτοχοι αὐτῶν: ἦτε γάρ ποτε σκότος, νῦν δὲ φῶς ἐν κυρίῳ. rather than to judge. 300 Crucial to this notion is that one equates God with a paternal figure, a common enough analogy in the books of the New Testament, where Jesus himself is often invoked as an example of the kinds of suffering that one can reasonably endure for the sake of God as Father. 301 In this respect, Ingremeau is correct to see in Hebrews 12:5-11 a model of divine discipline upon which Lactantius could have drawn. In this excerpt from another pseudo-Pauline epistle, the author exalts Jesus as a model of suffering and endurance, quotes two lines from the Old Testament as a proof text, and then argues that God is treating his followers like children: Endure trials for the sake of discipline. God is treating you as children; for what child is there whom a parent does not discipline? [8] If you do not have that discipline in which all children share, then you are illegitimate and not his children. [9] Moreover, we had human parents to discipline us, and we respected them. Should we not be even more willing to be subject to the Father of spirits and live? [10] For they disciplined us for a short time as seemed best to them, but he disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share his holiness. [11] Now, discipline always seems painful rather than pleasant at the time, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it. 302 Here the author links divine discipline with the figure of the father or parent; earthly, human familial relationships provide the terms by which he can articulate the relationship between humans and the divine. It also offers a way of explaining suffering: even if one might think 109 300 Ingremeau (1982) 15: ‘cette colère est aussi une pédagogie paternelle,’ which she also sees in the following Old Testament passages: Leviticus 26:14-45; Numbers 11:33; 2 Samuel 6:7; Job 19:6-11; Proverbs 3:11; Psalm 93:12; Isaiah 9:12-10:4; Jeremiah 2:30; 5:3; and Amos 4:6-12. 301 Hebrews 12 offers a programmatic statement to this effect. 302 Hebrews 7-11: εἰς παιδείαν ὑπομένετε: ὡς υἱοῖς ὑμῖν προσφέρεται ὁ θεός: τίς γὰρ υἱὸς ὃν οὐ παιδεύει πατήρ; εἰ δὲ χωρίς ἐστε παιδείας ἧς μέτοχοι γεγόνασι πάντες, ἄρα νόθοι καὶ οὐχ υἱοί ἐστε. εἶτα τοὺς μὲν τῆς σαρκὸς ἡμῶν πατέρας εἴχομεν παιδευτὰς καὶ ἐνετρεπόμεθα: οὐ πολὺ μᾶλλον ὑποταγησόμεθα τῷ πατρὶ τῶν πνευμάτων καὶ ζήσομεν; οἱ μὲν γὰρ πρὸς ὀλίγας ἡμέρας κατὰ τὸ δοκοῦν αὐτοῖς ἐπαίδευον, ὁ δὲ ἐπὶ τὸ συμφέρον εἰς τὸ μεταλαβεῖν τῆς ἁγιότητος αὐτοῦ. πᾶσα μὲν παιδεία πρὸς μὲν τὸ παρὸν οὐ δοκεῖ χαρᾶς εἶναι ἀλλὰ λύπης, ὕστερον δὲ καρπὸν εἰρηνικὸν τοῖς δι᾽ αὐτῆς γεγυμνασμένοις ἀποδίδωσιν δικαιοσύνης. The Old Testament quotation is taken from Proverbs 3:11-12 (Septuagint) and reads as follows: ‘My child, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord, or lose heart when you are punished by him; [6] for the Lord disciplines those whom he loves, and chastises every child whom he accepts.’ that such suffering is futile and difficult in the moment, in the end it will be shown to have prepared an individual for a righteous life. 303 Lactantius takes a decidedly different stance. Despite the connection he draws between God’s discipline and God’s anger, throughout De ira Dei the apologist focuses instead on the identification of God as the master and humans as his slaves. Unlike in the passage quoted above, humans are never described by Lactantius as the children of God nor are they likened to Jesus. The analogy Lactantius most often brings to bear is that in which humans are the slaves (servi) of their master, God (dominus). We have seen one example of this above in our consideration of specific portions of the fifth chapter of the treatise. 304 The idea is repeated in 17.8, where Lactantius again looks to the household and the power dynamics expressed in the relationships therein as a way of convincing his audience of the necessity of God’s wrath: I would gladly ask those who represent God as immoveable, if any one had property, a house, and a household of slaves, and his slaves, despising the forbearance of their master, should attack all his things, themselves have the enjoyment of his goods - if his household should honor them, while the master was despised by all, derided, and deserted? Could he be a wise man who should not avenge the insults, but permit those over whom he had power to have enjoyment of his property? Can such forbearance be found in any one? If, indeed, it can be called forbearance, and not rather some insensible stupor. 305 The type of paternal diligence that can be identified as the reason for discipline and punishment in Hebrews 12:5-11 is absent from Lactantius’ summary of this relationship. 110 303 The idea expressed here seems to have more in common with the Stoic conception of evil and its purpose, and hence little in common with the kinds of arguments that Lactantius seeks to make. 304 ID 5.12, see pages 93-94 above. 305 ID 17.8: Libet quaerere ab his qui deum faciunt immobilem, si quis habeat rem domum familiam servique eius contemnentes patientiam domini omnia eius invaserint, ipsi bonis eius fruantur, ipsos familia eius honoret, dominus autem contemnatur ab omnibus, derideatur relinquatur, utrumne sapiens esse possit qui contumelias non vindicet suisque rebus eos frui patiatur in quos habeat potestatem? Quae tanta in quoquam potest patientia reperiri? Si tamen patientia nominanda est et non stupor quidam insensibilis. His concern here is to underscore the dynamics of power between humans and God; the central terms for Lactantius are dominus, servus, familia, and potestas. This servile, and not filial, conception of the mortal and divine relationship gives Lactantius grounds upon which to argue that anger is a natural, and not an injurious or otherwise malicious, response. The question of the appropriateness of patientia is also at issue in Lactantius’ conception of anger. Indeed, Lactantius’ disapproval of forbearance has been the subject of some comment as critics have struggled to understand his difficulty with a virtue. 306 Yet it is not the case that patientia has no place in God, but rather there exist specific, appropriate moments when it should be exercised. As with his understanding of the emotions of anger, kindness, and pity, patience too has its proper place and can only be correctly attributed to God when it is the correct response to a situation. That patience is the incorrect response in the scenario that Lactantius describes between the master and the rioting slaves explains why it is unfitting here as well as why he subjects the virtue to such derision. It is a specific and not a universal condemnation, just as his defense of divine anger. One aspect of the need for such specificity is the impression that the granting of forbearance might have on the offender, as highlighted in the following excerpt: Truly, if slaves perceive that their master is violent when he is not angry, then spares them when he is angry, they will not commit sins mildly, lest they be beaten, but as offensively as they are able, so that the might incite the displeasure of the perverse man and so get away with impunity. 307 The exercise of forbearance and the restraint of violence in those cases when the dynamics of power clearly call for the use of anger and punishment, for Lactantius, can only lead to 111 306 Ingremeau (1982) 328, with bibliography. 307 ID 8.6: Si enim senserint servi dominum suum saevire cum non irascitur, tum parcere cum irascitur, non peccabant utique leviter ne verberentur, sede quantum poterunt gravissime, ut stomachum perversi hominis incitent atque impune discedant. greater offenses and thus to the increased disobedience and disrespect of the master. 308 It is this model that he uses to explain divine anger and not that of God the Father, interested in the promotion of his followers’ well-being. That Lactantius maintains that there is also a display of kindness in God’s anger does not detract from the validity of this statement. Unlike Paul and those writing in his name, Lactantius sees God’s anger toward the impious as an act of kindness towards the pious. In the New Testament passages that we have examined, this kindness (or love) is directed at the impious and those who have committed the offenses themselves. It is in this sense that God’s anger is most readily understood as paternal and well-intentioned. Lactantius’ idea of discipline and of the function of punishment is not so much corrective as it is instructive: the lesson is to be learned by those who observe the punishment that has befallen another, not the individual who has been punished and has the opportunity to reform. Lactantius’ literal reading of these and other Old Testament accounts of divine wrath and punishment thus formed the basis for his understanding of that anger and its function in the lives of mortals. The model that emerges from the passages studied above is one of a God who is the judge of the divine law which he himself promulgated to humankind; the disobedience of the law equates to an offense against God and as such merits punishment. If, as Lactantius argues, there is some showing of kindness in God’s anger, it is that it instructs. 309 Those who are meant to receive that instruction, however, are not those who have been chastised but those who witness the punishment of the impious; the pedagogical method is one of example. Lactantius is an advocate not so much of 112 308 Cf. ID 18.9, noting again the terminology of servus/dominus: Quod si naturam rerum causasque didicisset, numquam tam importunam continentiam profiteretur, ut nequam servus iratum sibi fuisse dominum gratulatretur. 309 ID 16.5b: Adeo et in ipsa ira inest gratifcatio. personal reform of the offender once the crime has been committed but rather of using that offender and the consequences for his crimes as a deterrent to others: if one does not worship God (for example), they will suffer certain ills, therefore we, his audience, should be compelled to obey and worship God. The Christian God of De ira Dei is not the gently corrective father, the Stoic idea of which Lactantius mocks, but rather the severe and exacting judge, the master of his slaves. 310 This model of the divine nature and attributes stands at quite a distance from those expressed in the views of Heraclitus, Philo, and Origen. There is nothing in the text to indicate that Lactantius wrote with the intention of instructing those who were otherwise incapable of envisioning or understanding God, as Philo suggests. Lactantius’ unmitigated reading of biblical material in fact puts him among those whom both Philo and Origen single out as dull and dimwitted, and in turn Lactantius himself states that his treatise is meant to defeat in argument those who maintain precisely the opinions that Philo and Origen espouse. 311 Although we shall take up the question of the relationship imagined between Lactantius, his Latin-writing peers, and the Greek theosophical tradition in the fourth chapter, I suggest here that in one fundamental respect, Lactantius’ disavowal of the tenets of God’s impassability (expressly stated in De ira Dei) as well as those of his incorporeality and immateriality (hinted at in the treatise) are ultimately related to two things. The first point is quite simply that this is what Lactantius believed. Whether he developed these beliefs on his own or they were the product of his pagan and Christian educations and experiences, or were somehow related to his witness of persecution cannot be determined, 113 310 ID 5.6: Ita enim demum et communis omnium pater et optimus vere maximusque dici poterit, quod expetit divina caelestisque natura. 311 ID 22.1: Haec habui quae de ira dicerem, Donate carissime, ut scires quemadmodum refelleres eos qui deum faciunt inmobilem. but should not be ignored. The second point is that Lactantius was part of and wrote for an audience that likely was composed of people like himself, Christians who had at some point converted from their traditional Roman religious beliefs. In this respect, Ingremeau is correct to say that one of Lactantius’ chief accomplishments was to present the god of Christianity in such a way as to make him palatable to pagans. 312 On the surface this claim holds weight: Lactantius was a Christian after all, and there are parallels and references to biblical sources in his treatise. Yet the argument deteriorates when we consider these parallels in more detail. Lactantius eschews the Pauline model and instead favors the models of God and of the divine-human relationship as it is expressed in some of the exhortative and disciplinary verses of the Old Testament scriptures. The ‘Christian God’ for Lactantius, then, can seem to exist at some remove from, for example, Origen’s God. It also existed at a considerable remove from the supreme deity envisioned by Plato and Heraclitus, as too from the Stoics and the Epicureans. Here Lactantius’ deployment of allusions to passages from the Old Testament worked to rebut and undermine philosophical, and primarily Stoic, thought. Lactantius’ claim towards the end of the text then, in which he states that he cannot bring to bear the testimony of the prophets since it will not be accepted by his opponents, is not entirely honest. 313 He did in fact use proofs and exempla from both the Old and New Testaments in his argument, just not in so obvious a way as to attract attention and leave himself open to criticism. 114 312 Ingremeau (1982) 24. 313 ID 22.3-4: Prophetae universi divino spiritu repleti nihil aliud quam de gratia dei erga iustos et ira eius adversus inpios loquuntur. Quorum testimonia nobis quidem satis sunt, verum his quoniam non credunt isti qui sapientiam capillis et habitu iactant, ratione quoque et argumentis a nobis fuerant refellendi. [4] Sic enim praepostere agitur ut humana divinis tribuant auctoritatem, cum potius humanis divina debuerint. Quae nunc sane omittamus, ne et nihil apud istos agamus et in infinitum materia procedat. Ea igitur quaeramus testimonia quibus illi possint aut credere aut certe non repugnare. The subtle ways in which Lactantius formulated and supported his claims in De ira Dei are indicative of his training in Latin rhetoric and we would do well to remember that this was his vocation as well. In the next chapter, we shall examine how this education prepared Lactantius to craft his arguments in specific ways and for specific purposes. I have suggested above that Lactantius’ use of biblical material in an indirect fashion was intended not only to resonate with his Christian audience but also meant to escape the notice of a more strictly pagan reader of the text. I have also argued that one important component of Lactantius’ idea of divine wrath was that it was meant to instruct by example. As we shall see in the next chapter, rhetoric provided Lactantius with a mode of argument and moreover with principles of argumentation that allowed him to achieve these ends. In addition, it equipped him with a type of discourse suitable to yet distinctly different from the philosophical arguments of his opponents. 115 [3.] Ratio and Rhetoric: Lactantius’ Mode of Argument Lactantius’ project in De ira Dei was inherently theological: in taking up the question of God’s wrath, the apologist contributed to a debate that was in its most basic form one concerned with divinity. We have so far seen how he incorporated and adapted Ciceronian ideas of the divine nature broadly, and interpreted representations of the angry God of the biblical scriptures specifically. While we have identified two of the models upon which Lactantius drew in thinking about the material for his treatise, we turn now to a consideration of how he articulated those ideas. Our previous discussion about the varieties of exegesis practiced by Heraclitus, Philo of Alexandria, and Origen hinted at the role that rhetoric has been seen to come to play in those hermeneutic practices. Due perhaps to the dearth of exegetical commentary among the second and third century Latin-writing Christian intellectuals, at least of the sort of which Origen produced, the place of rhetoric in the formation of Latin Christian discourse in this period is a subject that has received little attention. 314 This is particularly apparent with regard to studies that investigate the mechanics of those arguments, in which there has been an emphasis on style over content. The exploration of rhetorical argument has not often included a corresponding interest in the rhetorical principles and foundations of that argumentation. This is a trend particularly evident in studies of Lactantius: scholars are quick to quote the descriptive phrase ‘the 116 314 I mean this very specifically: one can look ahead to bibliography about Augustine and Jerome to find traces of the effect that rhetorically-trained Christian intellectuals have had, but this is often the extent of the attention they, like Lactantius, have drawn. Some work has been done on Tertullian (see e.g. Timothy Barnes, Tertullian: A Historical and Literary Study. Oxford University Press, 1985), but the scholarship on the Greek apologists and fathers of the church in this respect far outweighs that on the Latin side. Christian Cicero’ in connection with his name, and much time has been devoted to understanding Lactantius’ eloquence and imitative style, but little else. 315 In this chapter we shall move beyond the stylistic and look instead at the more technical aspects of Lactantius’ argumentation in De ira Dei. We shall begin with a sketch of Lactantius’ education in mid-third century North Africa. Much of what we know about the status and shape of Roman education in that period relies on the evidence that both antedates and follows it, as well as comparative and contextual evidence from the Greek rhetorical schools. 316 What we do know, however, is that the texts and treatises of Cicero were significant and well-known to students of rhetoric, and that rhetoric itself was a critical 117 315 This is not to say that elocutio is unimportant, rather that there is much to be gained from thinking about how Lactantius uses rhetoric to craft his argument beyond merely stating that he does so. The only attempt to understand Lactantius and his work from this perspective of which I know is George A. Kennedy’s two-page treatment of the apologist in ‘Judeo-Christian Rhetoric,’ in idem Classical Rhetoric and its Christian and Secular Tradition from Ancient to Modern Times (2nd Edition). University of North Carolina Press, 1999, 137-182 at 169-170. The conclusions to which Kennedy comes are not so much different than those that I discuss here, but his claims suffer from a general treatment of Lactantius. 316 As we shall see below, the technical (and some of the non-technical) treatises of Cicero are particularly helpful for the earlier evidence; Quintilian’s Institutio Oratoria (especially the earlier books on education) is likewise useful. Various handbooks including the Rhetorica ad Herennium give a sense of the various kinds of considerations that students would have kept in mind. Our knowledge can be further supplemented by, for example, Augustine’s comments in his Confessiones. The education of students and the work that took place in the Greek rhetorical schools have been subjects of recent scholarly inquiry, aided by the survival of books on declamation and the hermeneumata. For some general discussion (and helpful general bibliography) despite its more narrow focus see Raffaella Cribiore, Gymnastics of the Mind: Greek Education in Hellenistic and Roman Egypt. Princeton University Press, 2001 as well as her The School of Libanius in Late Antique Antioch. Princeton University Press 2007. Libanius in particular offers us a comparative way of understanding Lactantius’ world (although, again, not without a healthy recognition of the significant differences between the two). See also Edward Watts, City and School in Late Antique Athens and Alexandria. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2006. component of the curriculum. 317 We have already seen how Lactantius reiterated Ciceronian ideas, our concern here is with the fundamental components of rhetorical argumentation, including the individual components of a rhetorical work and the parts of which they are constituted. An analysis of Lactantius’ claims about (1) anger and kindness, (2) just and unjust anger, and (3) the definition of anger will be illustrative of this point. In the final portion of the chapter we shall see that Lactantius adopted rhetorical techniques because he believed rhetoric to provide the soundest ratio for his material. Lactantius’ disillusionment with philosophy together with his training (educational and vocational) made rhetoric the most accessible and the most natural way for him to express his beliefs about the true religion. Equally importantly, rhetoric gave him a way of articulating theological arguments that allowed him to be most persuasive. To get a sense of what education might have been like in North Africa in the middle of the third century CE, we must look both backward to the texts, treatises, and techniques 118 317 See e.g., the general comments of John O. Ward in ‘Roman Rhetoric and its Afterlife,’ in William Dominik and Jon Hall (eds.), The Blackwell Companion to Roman Rhetoric. Wiley-Blackwell 2007, 354-368 at 355. One of his points here is that the theoretical works such as De Oratore remained popular through the time of Augustine, the handbooks and technical treatises of Cicero grew in popularity in the early Middle Ages. See also his statement that the Rhetorica ad Herennium ‘went mysteriously into recess between the time of its composition and the fourth century CE’ (355); based on this view (itself widely held), and given what we already know about Lactantius’ emulation of Cicero, we might keep the Rhetorica ad Herennium to the background of our discussion of Lactantius’ rhetorical training. The same could be said of the Rhetores Latini Minores, whose handbooks were often more concerned with the judicial uses of oratory, but see G. Kennedy, ‘Rhetoric in the Roman Period,’ in Classical Rhetoric and its Christian and Secular Tradition from Ancient to Modern Times (2nd Edition). University of North Carolina Press, 1999, 98-126, at 124 where he writes of the handbooks: ‘Their contents suggest something of the function of rhetorical studies in the western empire in the fourth and fifth centuries. Although all these handbooks belong more or less in the Ciceronian tradition, there are also signs of a separate, more Greek influence. Their contents are largely confined to discussion of judicial rhetoric, with a strong emphasis on stasis theory.’ See with this the suggestion that ‘The difference [in styles of rhetorical handbooks] is significant and seems to speak to a difference in political, and ultimately, epistemological framework traceable to the birth of rhetoric as a craft alongside of philosophy in the context of the Athenian democracy: on the one hand, the sophists, whose rhetoric threatens to destabilize traditional authority within the polis, in part by showing that there are two sides to every issue; on the other hand, Plato, whose quest to restabilize the polis can only succeed if rhetoric is given a minor and subordinate role.’ in Thomas Habinek, Ancient Rhetoric and Oratory. Blackwell Introductions to the Classical World. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2005, 48. Robert N. Gaines gives an overview of such handbooks in his ‘Roman Rhetorical Handbooks,’ in Dominik and Hall 2007, 163-181. of which Cicero and Quintilian wrote and forward to the information that individuals like Ausonius and Augustine have included in their work. 318 In some respects, little is thought to have changed between the first century BCE and the fourth century CE, at least insofar as daily routines and exercises are concerned. 319 Young boys and girls would begin their education at home; the boys would then go on to more formal training outside of the home. 320 If what Ausonius writes about fourth century education in Bordeaux can be taken as largely representative of the state of education in the empire at that time, at six or seven a child would pursue elementary studies in the schola grammatici, remaining there for about nine years. 321 Classroom numbers would decrease as the material - and the cost - of education became more difficult for families to manage. 322 The sorts of texts that students read and the sorts of activities in which they would have been engaged have been the topics of recent scholarly inquiries. One exercise in particular has drawn attention for its value to teach students not only about the principles of speech and delivery but also about the social roles and responsibilities that young men would assume as adults: declamation. 323 It was in this 119 318 On Augustine, see Peter Brown, ‘Education,’ in idem, Augustine of Hippo: A Biography. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2000, 23-28. For the argument that we can use what Ausonius writes about education in his own day as representative of larger trends see Alan Booth, ‘Elementary and Secondary Education in the Roman Empire,’ Florilegium 1(1979), 1-14. Also useful to an extent (given our focus) is Robert Kaster’s Guardian of Language: The Grammarian and Society in Late Antiquity. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1988. 319 This is not to say that rhetoric remained static throughout the centuries separating Cicero and Lactantius (or Augustine, for that matter), but rather that there were elements of consistency to the basic progression of a young man through the Roman educational system and the values and knowledge imparted by that system. 320 For girls’ and women’s access to education see Cribiore (2001), 74-101. 321 Booth (1979), 7. 322 See Augustine’s oft-quoted statements about the cost of education at Confessions 2.5-6; see also Watts (2006) 24-47 for a sense of education’s cost - and cultural prestige - in late antique Athens. 323 W . Martin Bloomer,. ‘Schooling in Persona: Imagination and Subordination in Roman Education,’ CA 16.1 (1997) 57-78. Bloomer also spends time on the hermeneumata (see 72-78). exercise that students’ skills were honed and sharpened with increasing precision until they could display mastery in the art of fashioning and delivering a convincing argument. Declamation involved both skill and talent, both theory and practice. 324 Students would have to defend one or the other position while deploying both tactical and technical principles as they crafted an emotionally moving speech. 325 Pseudo-Quintilian’s Minor Declamations offer some insight into not only the sorts of topics on which students would have to speak but also the pedagogical lessons they were meant to learn from them. 326 Many of these declamations required that the student adopt the perspective, for example of a woman or soldier or someone of a social status other than their own. 327 To do so well necessitated the ability to think both within and across such categories, as well as to approach the speech with clear organization and thought; the student also would have relied on principles of distinction and definition. 328 These exercises in delineation and differentiation were critical to success in oratorical pursuits beyond the classroom; in this respect the declamations practiced by students had as their goal the translation of the rules and methods of rhetorical theory into actual practice. The Minor Declamations, in one scholar’s words, 120 324 As evidenced not least by Quintilian’s division of his Institutio Oratoria into two parts (theory and education or teaching). Michael Winterbottom has argued that Cicero’s Pro Milone was designed with the specific purpose of retaining for educational purposes the theory as put into practice by the orator, see his ‘Schoolroom and Courtoom,’ in Brian Vickers (ed.), Rhetoric Revalued. Binghamtom 1982, 59-70 at 61-63. 325 The idea that a speech (as well as the orator delivering it) should have an emotional impression on the audience is important not only to Cicero but also to Aristotle, among others. Although this aspect of a text is more difficult to access in the case of De ira Dei, we should not discard its import and emphasis altogether. 326 See Winterbottom (1982) with Elaine Fantham, ‘Imitation and Decline: Rhetorical Theory and Practice in the First Century after Christ.’ CPh 73.2 (1978) 102-116 and Bloomer (1997). 327 Bloomer (1997), 58 with note 21. 328 Bloomer (1997), 57 and here 67, with reference to a specific declamation, ‘The declaimer’s first task is to redefine poisoning to include drugging. Again the declamation works by definition and it works out a conflict - the brave man accused of desertion - but shifts the blame to the stepmother.’ show in action what in an ars rhetorica would normally be stated as a precept. ... the fair-copy declamations in this collection are designed quite consciously to show the ossa controversiae, the bones. ... The rhetor by these methods was inculcating something that would always have its uses, the practice of lucid and organised thought. 329 The precise nature of those declamations and of the rules that governed them during the time in which Lactantius would have encountered and, later, taught them are beyond our reach. Certain principles, however, likely remained fairly stable, including the system of rhetoric proposed by Cicero and Quintilian as well as those outlined in the Rhetorica ad Herennium. 330 Thus while the division of the partes orationis into five or six parts might have been a matter of opinion or preference (as it was even in Cicero’s day), the fact that a speech could be divided into recognizable and purposeful sections was not. 331 Nor did the officia oratoris shift: inventio, dispositio, elocutio, memoria, and actio retained their importance. That a speech or rhetorical work could be framed and organized along the principles of these five parts of rhetoric did not automatically make it a good or convincing piece. Even the adherence to the partes orationis could not guarantee this; rather the choices that the orator made in constructing his argument in support of each part would determine success or failure. 332 A series of decisions on the part of the orator, some stylistic and others technical, together with the orator’s performance determined the persuasiveness of the speech. That the argumentation behind the organization and presentation of the rhetorical 121 329 Winterbottom (1982), 65-66. 330 Although such a statement elides the differences that originally existed between each of these individuals as well as between various schools and traditions of rhetoric, my point here is that, in the case of Lactantius especially, we are best able to detect the basic influences of Ciceronian rhetorical theory, which is unlikely to have undergone significant alteration since its formation. 331 On the different divisions of the partes orationis, see Martin Clarke, Rhetoric at Rome: A Historical Survey. Routledge, 1996, 24-25, or any other introductory volume cited here. Cicero gives a sixfold division in De Inventione as does the Rhetoric ad Herennium; Quintilian has five and others are said to have had four. 332 Cicero expresses this sentiment at De Oratore 2.33b-38. speech itself was also at issue in the composition of such a text is evident from the attention that Cicero pays to the loci (commonplaces) of argumentation in two texts, De Oratore and Topica. Although the former treatise belongs to the more non-technical of his oratorical works, it is here (and not in De Inventione, where one might expect it) that Cicero brings the loci (places, or seats of argumentation), which he attributes to Aristotle, to bear on rhetorical theory. 333 A parallel list is found in a different context in the more technical Topica. In what follows, we shall look at the ways in which Cicero’s identification of the parts of a speech, the duties of the orator, and the loci are identifiable in De ira Dei. Rhetorical influences are detectable in both the structure and the argumentation of Lactantius’ text. To begin with the former, the very organization of De ira Dei is typical of the training that Lactantius would have had in the art of arranging his orations. Both Cicero and the anonymous author of the Rhetorica ad Herennium identify six structural components of a speech: the exordium, narratio, divisio (or partitio), confirmatio, confutatio, and conclusio. 334 Lactantius’ treatise corresponds to this structure on a grand scale, although it admits of modifications to it: where one would expect to find a swift and lucid explanation of the case and the orator’s approach to its resolution, Lactantius instead repeatedly comes back to his basic argument (that God has anger) via the exploration of two related claims. 335 Despite this deviation, the first three organizational elements listed by Cicero come in quick succession at the beginning of Lactantius’ treatise: 122 333 On the relationship between Cicero’s loci and the Aristotelian topoi, see Sara Rubinelli, Ars Topica: the Classical Technique of Constructing Arguments from Aristotle to Cicero. Cambridge: Springer 2009, especially ‘Cicero’s List of Aristotelian Loci,’ 111-144. See also the introductory comments of Tobias Reinhardt in his translation and commentary, Cicero’s Topica. Oxford University Press 2003, 1-112. Throughout our discussion of the loci as used by Lactantius I will refer to both the Topica and De Oratore when possible. 334 As noted above the structure of a speech could be divided into less than these as well, see Quintilian 4.2-6. 335 We shall examine these below pages 126-ff. exordium: address to Donatus, brief introduction (1) narratio: the philosophers do not think that God is moved by anger (2.1-8) divisio: God does have anger, as well as kindness (2.9-10) Despite an unequal distribution of material, the remainder of the treatise (up to chapter twenty-two) consists of the confirmatio, which in this case often contains elements of refutation, or confutatio. Lactantius presents the opinions of his opponents on a series of matters and proceeds to refute them topic-by-topic. Narrative elements are interwoven throughout these chapters of the treatise, but their primary function is to give Lactantius a platform for the articulation and exposition of his argument. Among the various iterations of that argument, three programmatic moments can be located: (1) God has (certain) emotions (3) (2) Religion depends on God’s anger (6.2) and on fear of God (12.5) (3) Anger has a substance in God (15.12); an explicit purpose (16); definition (17.20) We shall look more carefully at these critical points below; for the moment our concern is only with the ways in which they help to structure and organize the text. The remainder of the material between chapters three and twenty-one consists of a series of arguments deployed in the defense of the points listed above. A conclusio, which Lactantius himself terms a peroration in the manner of Cicero, shapes the final three chapters of the treatise (22-24) and includes the provision of testimony from the Sibyls, a reiteration of Lactantius’ main arguments, and a call to worship God lest one incite his wrath. 336 Lactantius devotes the largest part of the treatise, then, to the advancement of his own arguments about God’s wrath and frequently merges these with a refutation of his opponents’ claims. This area, primarily of confirmatio, was considered the most important in 123 336 ID 22.2: Restat ut more Ciceronis utamur epilogo ad perorandum. Sicut in Tusculanis de morte disserens fecit, ita nos in hoc opere testimonia divina quibus credi possit adhibiere debemus, ut illorum persuasionem revincamus qui sine ira deum esse credentes dissolvunt omnem religionem; sine qua, ut ostendimus, aut inmanitate belvis aut stultitia pecudibus adaequamur; in sola enim religione, id est in dei summi notione, sapientia est. rhetorical theory, since it was here that the orator could give an exposition of his arguments. It was here too that the rhetorician could display the most talent in deploying and displaying the very qualities that were necessary for him to be considered competent (at least) and innovative (at best) in his field. According to Cicero and the Rhetorica ad Herennium, those traits which made an orator an orator (or the duties, officia oratoris, as above) included the degree to which he was able to find and develop his argument (inventio); the arrangement of that arguments into its constituent parts (dispositio, consisting of the elements just discussed); his style (elocutio or pronuntiatio); his ability to memorize the speech to be delivered (memoria); and the delivery itself, with its attendant invocation of gesture and emotion (actio). 337 Our focus here will be on Lactantius’ work in the area of inventio: we have seen above how Lactantius arranged his speech, we have noted his imitative Ciceronian eloquence, and we cannot recover any knowledge of his talent at memoria and actio in this text. Cicero’s precepts in the De Oratore, De Inventione, and Topica provide us with the means by which to analyze Lactantius’ rhetorical argumentation. In De Oratore, Antonius states that the process of inventio is the first to which the orator must attend when preparing his case. At the outset, the rhetorician must learn the case and discover its nature. 338 He identifies three possibilities for articulating the nature of the case and maintains that these can be found by posing one of three possible types of question: ‘the question must either be about what was done, is being done, or will be done; 124 337 See Clarke’s summary at (1996), 23. 338 De Oratore (hereafter O) 2.104a: Cum rem penitus causamque cognovi, statim occurrit animo, quae sit causa ambigendi; nihil est enim, quod inter homines ambigatur, sive ex crimine causa constat, ut facinoris, sive ex controversia, ut hereditatis, sive ex deliberatione, ut belli, [sive ex persona, ut laudis,] sive ex disputatione, ut de ratione vivendi, in quo non aut quid factum sit aut fiat futurumve sit quaeratur aut quale sit aut quid vocetur.; cf. 2.132: Ac primum naturam causae videat, quae numquam latet, factumne sit quaeratur, an quale sit, an quod nomen habeat; quo perspecto statim occurrit naturali quadam prudentia, non his subductionibus, quas isti docent, quid faciat causam, id est, quo sublato controversia stare non possit. All translations of the De Oratore are from Jakob Wisse and James May, Cicero: The Ideal Orator. Oxford University Press 2001. or about the character of the matter involved; or about the name that should be applied to it.’ 339 In doing so, Antonius is drawing upon a long history of status theory; the questions that he delineates can be otherwise presented as status coniecturalis, status qualitatis, and status definitionis. 340 Once one has discovered the nature of the case, says Antonius, the next step is to identify ‘the point that cannot be removed without eliminating the dispute.’ 341 Antonius gives the following as an example of how to find the ‘point that determines the case’: ‘Opimius killed Gracchus.’ What is the point determining the case? That he did so for the sake of the State, after calling the people to arms on the authority of a decree of the Senate. Remove this plea, and you will not have a case. 342 After the orator has passed through this second step, he may advance to the third, namely to identify ‘the issue to be decided.’ Again the case of Opimius is instructive: But Decius maintains that the act as such, being against the law, was not permitted. Therefore, the issue to be decided will be ‘whether the act was permitted on the authority of the decree of the Senate for the sake of saving the State.’ 343 Antonius notes that this much is obvious to anyone, but that where the rhetorician’s talent comes to the fore is in the discovery of ‘the arguments bearing on the issue to be decided.’ 344 125 339 See note above. 340 Others phrase these as an sit, quid sit, and quale sit; cf. Wisse and May’s note: ‘Antonius here summarizes (a particular version of) status theory, which was very important in contemporary standard rhetoric. He mentions, respectively, the conjectural status (status coniecturalis; developed in 2.105 below), the status of quality (status qualitatis; see 2.106), and the status of definition (status definitionis; see 2.107-109). His view differs from the standard view in two essential respects: (1) ‘immediately’ and (2) insistence that doctrine applicable to other than juridical cases’ (2001, 151 n.75). 341 O 2.132b (below); cf 2.104, where this is presented as the need to ‘establish the point of reference for the whole portion of the speech that specifically concerns the judgment of the issue itself.’ 342 O 2.132b: deinde quid veniat in iudicium: quod isti sic iubent quaerere: interfecit Opimius Gracchum. Quid facit causam? Quod rei publicae causa, cum ex senatus consulto ad arma vocasset. Hoc tolle, causa non erit. 343 O. 2.132c: At id ipsum negat contra leges licuisse Decius. Veniet igitur in iudicium licueritne ex senatus consulto servandae rei publicae causa. 344 O 2.132d: Perspicua sunt haec quidem et in vulgari prudentia sita; sed illa quaerenda, quae et ab accusatore et a defensore argumenta ad id, quod in iudicium venit, spectantia debent adferri. The statement is followed by a sharp criticism of contemporary teachers who train their students only to seek two categories of cases. To find these, the orator must consider the arguments of both the defense and the prosecution, and he must realize that the specific circumstances of the case are in reality related to much more general categories. The question is not about the individual parties involved in the dispute but rather the fundamental issue that is raised by the dispute. 345 Lactantius applies this method to his framing of the question of divine anger. In its purest form, Lactantius’ argument is concerned with whether or not God has anger (status coniecturalis). This perspective is evident in the opening lines of the treatise, where Lactantius chastises the philosophers for their denial of this possibility and identifies his purpose in writing as being to dispel this error, namely that ‘God is not subject to anger.’ 346 Shortly thereafter in the second chapter, Lactantius provides a clear statement of his argument: because some say that God has no emotions and other that he has only kindness, Lactantius will follow this division. So that, he writes, the speech may descend to the proposed material in order, a distinction of this kind must be made and followed by us: since anger and kindness are diverse and contradictory, either anger must be attributed to God and kindness removed, or both equally must be removed, or anger must be removed and kindness attributed, or both must be attributed. The nature of the case seizes upon nothing else besides these, so that the truth that is sought must necessarily be found in some one of these. Let us consider each one separately, so that reason and order may lead us to the hiding place of truth. 347 Lactantius offers a series of options to get at the fundamental question of the treatise: whether or not God gets angry. His exploration of these formulations occupies the next 126 345 Antonius’ discussion of this point runs across O 2.132-2.137. 346 ID 1.1: Animaadverti saepe, Donate, plurimos id aestimare, quod etiam nonnulli philosophorum putaverunt, non irasci deum.... 347 ID 2.9-10: Sed ut ad propositam materiam per ordinem descendat oratio, huiusmodi facienda nobis et sequenda partitio est: cum diversa et repugnantia sint ira et gratia, aut ira tribuenda est deo et gratia detrahenda, aut utrumque pariter detrahendum, aut ira demenda est et gratia tribuenda, aut utrumque tribuendum. Aliud amplius praeter haec nihil potest capere natura, ut necesse sit in uno istorum aliquo verum quod quaeritur inveniri. Consideremus singula, ut nos ad latebras veritatis et ratio et ordo deducat. three chapters of the text, leading him to assert in the sixth chapter that the only remaining possibility is that God does get angry, because he is moved by kindness. 348 Here Lactantius links God’s anger to religion: God has anger because without it, no one would fear or worship him, and religion would be destroyed as a consequence: We must observe and defend this opinion: truly the sum total and the turning point of religion and piety depend on this. For neither can any honor be owed to god if he offers nothing to one worshipping him, nor can there be any fear if he is not angry with one who does not worship him. 349 The point that determines the case for Lactantius - the point that, if removed, would result in the destruction of his case - is that God’s anger is born of the necessity to preserve religion, which is itself required for the existence of wisdom and justice, which are in turn necessary for the preservation of humankind, its civility and its institutions. 350 Although Lactantius adds a number of further arguments to this initial claim, it remains the most important to his criticism of his opponents. Lactantius’ statements about the dependence of religion on, on the one hand, God’s anger and on the other hand, humans’ fear of God here also helps to explain the material that he discusses in the chapters that follow it. 351 For Lactantius to support this idea he must convince his audience that religion is uniquely 127 348 ID 6.1: Hae sunt de deo philosophorum sententiae, aliud praeterea nihil quisquam dixit. Quod si haec quae dicta sunt false esse deprehendimus, unum illud extremum superest in quo solo possit veritas inveniri, quod a philosophis nec susceptum est umquam nec aliquando defensum, consequens esse ut irascatur deus, quoniam gratia commovetur. 349 ID 6.2: Haec tuenda nobis et adserenda sententia est: in eo enim summa omnis et cardo religionis pietatisque versatur. Nam neque honor ullus deberi potest deo, si nihil praestat colenti, nec ullus metus, si non irascitur non colenti. This should be read closely with 12.5: Timor igitur dei solus est qui custodit hominum inter se societatem, per quem vita ipsa sustinetur munitur gubernatur. Is autem timor aufertur si fuerit homini persuasum quod irae sit expers deus, quem moveri et indignari, cum iniusta fiunt, non modo communis utilitas sed etiam ratio ipsa nobis et veritas persuadet. 350 ID 6, above, and 12.2: Diximus religione sublata nec sapientiam teneri posse nec iustitiam, sapeintiam quia divinitatis intellectus, quo differimus a belvis, in homine solo reperiatur, iustitiam quia, nisi cupiditates nostras deus qui falli non potest coercuerit, scelerate inpieque vivemus. 351 See Ingremeau (1982) 37-44. important to humans, he must explain what religion is, whom it is that they should worship, and why. By explaining why one should worship God he also positions himself to argue that those who do not worship (or fear) God will endure his wrath. Once he has argued that God has anger and has demonstrated that it is necessary for the preservation of religion, Lactantius proceeds to articulate a definition of and a purpose for that anger. It is here that he expresses what Antonius terms the ‘issue to be decided.’ Whether or not God’s wrath can be so closely linked to piety and religion hinges upon the identification and description of that anger; what remains to be decided is whether or not God’s anger can be defined in such a way and understood with such a purpose as to convince the audience of its proper function and attribution to God. Here Lactantius appeals to the ideas of anger’s suitability to God, its purpose, and its definition; taken altogether this is an argument which he builds over the course of chapters fifteen through seventeen. Anger is identified as having a substance in God (15.12), as having a physical matter in God (16.4), and as an emotion that arises for the restraining of faults (17.20). 352 The argument culminates in the following statement: For it is necessary that things which are bad displease one who is good and just, and that he who is displeased with evil is moved when he sees it committed. Therefore we arise to take vengeance, not because we have been injured, but so that discipline may be preserved, morals corrected, and licentiousness suppressed. This is just anger, which just as it is necessary in man for the correction of depravity, so too is it necessary in God, from whom an example comes to man. For just as we ought to restrain those subjected to our power, so even God ought to restrain the sins of all. 128 352 ID 15.12: At vero et gratia et ira et miseratio habent in deo materiam rectque illis utitur summa illa et singularis potestas ad rerum conservationem; 16.4: Contra autem sunt alii facinerosi ac nefarii qui omnia libidinibus polluant, caedibus vexent, fraudent rapian periurent, nec consanguineis nec parentibus parcant, leges et ipsum etiam deum neglegant. Habet igitur in deo ira materiam.; 17.20: Ergo ita definire debuerint: ira est motus animi ad coercenda peccat insurgentis. In order that he do this he must be angry, since it is natural for one who is good to be moved and incited ad the sin of another. 353 This passage contains the most concise and pointed expression of Lactantius’ argument in the treatise. Here Lactantius’ conception of God’s wrath is at its clearest: God is inherently good, such a being must react to the observation of injustice and impiety, the natural and appropriate reaction is (just) anger, and thus God must have anger. The remainder of the content of the treatise that falls between the assertion in 2.9-10 and the end of chapter twenty-one consists in the argumentation of these points; he must prove that God has anger, that this anger is part of religion, which is itself closely related to justice, and that the God to be worshipped reacts (appropriately, in anger) when he sees unjust acts. Antonius divides the provision of proof into two types according to the kinds of evidence or material that the orator will have available. On the one hand, the rhetorician can make use of ‘things that are not thought out by the orator,’ and on the other hand, he could have recourse to ‘material which depends on the reasoning and argumentation of the orator.’ 354 Those evidentiary pieces that lie beyond the orator’s control can only be prepared for by practice, ‘so that they are permanently ready for use.’ 355 The orator must always be ready to argue either for or against such an item, whether it be general or specific, and carry 129 353 ID 17.17-19 (leading up the definition that Lactantius offers in 17.20, quoted above): Necesse est enim bono ac iusto displicere quae prava sunt, et cui malum displicet movetur cum id fieri vident. Ergo surgimus ad vindictam, non quia laesi sumus, sed ut disciplina servetur, mores corrigantur, licentia conprimatur. [18] Haec est ira iusta; quae sicut in homine necessaria est ad pravitatis correctionem, sic utique in deo, a quo ad hominem pervenit exemplum. [19] Nam sicuti nos potestati nostrae subiectos coercere debemus, ita etiam deus peccata universorum debet coercere. Quod ut faciat, irascatur necesse est, quia naturale est bono ad alterius peccatum moveri et incitari. 354 O 2.116: Ad probandum autem duplex est oratori subiecta materies: una rerum earum, quae non excogitantur ab oratore, sed in re positae ratione tractantur, ut tabulae, testimonia, pacta conventa, quaestiones, leges, senatus consulta, res iudicatae, decreta, responsa, reliqua, si quae sunt, quae non reperiuntur ab oratore, sed ad oratorem a causa [atque a re] deferuntur; altera est, quae tota in disputatione et in argumentatione oratoris conlocata est... 355 O 2.118a: Et primum genus illud earum rerum, quae ad oratorem deferuntur, meditatum nobis in perpetuum ad omnem usum similium rerum esse debebit. that argument with him, for it will surely be needed again in a similar case. When the material is of the latter kind and falls within the orator’s control, Antonius divulges the secrets of the trade: ‘I will reveal the fountainheads from which every line of argument for every case and for every speech is derived.’ 356 These fountainheads are, in short, the loci: the places from which any kind of argument whatsoever can be fashioned. 357 Yet for Antonius, it is not enough for the orator to be familiar with the loci, but he must also know how best to use them: ‘to be persuasive, orators have to be able to discuss a specific case in the light of more general assumptions.’ 358 If one wants to show that something or someone is just, for example, one must know what justice itself is. The loci as Antonius presents them are useful not just for rhetorical cases the sort of which would be brought to the law courts, but also for more philosophically natured matters of inquiry. 359 He lists the loci as follows: For there should be no stumbling blocks for someone who has perceived that everything that can be introduced into a speech, either for proving or refuting, is derived either from the essential nature of the matter at hand, or taken from outside. From the essence, when there is a question about either the matter as a whole, or about part of it, or the name it should have, or anything at all relating to it; from 130 356 O 2.130: Ac tibi sapienter monenti, Crasse, libenter adsentiemur, ut singularum causarum defensiones quas solent magistri pueris tradere, relinquamus, aperiamus autem capita ea, unde omnis ad omnem et causam et orationem disputatio ducitur. Neque enim quotiens verbum aliquod est scribendum nobis, totiens eius verbi litterae sunt cogitatione conquirendae; nec quotiens causa dicenda est, totiens ad eius causae seposita argumenta revolvi nos oportet, sed habere certos locos, qui, ut litterae ad verbum scribendum, sic illi ad causam explicandam statim occurrant. See Wisse and May’s note (2001) 157 n.94. 357 Cicero gives nearly the same list (differing only in terminology) at O 2.163-173 as he does in Topica 8-24; see Rubinelli (2009), 118-119 for a helpful chart, with discussion. Importantly, however, Rubinelli notes that the difference is primarily one of context in which the list is deployed (121). In O ‘Cicero inserts the discussion of the loci into a framework that echoes ideas expressed by Aristotle in the Rhetoric. Moreover, he even claims to have read the Rhetoric. In the Topica, despite a section where Cicero discusses what loci are better suited to each specific kind of inquiry and refers to some Aristotelian ideas about rhetoric, there is no explicit mention of Aristotle’s Rhetoric.’ (121). 358 Cf. Rubinelli (2009), 116 with O 2.133-136. 359 O 2.150; Cicero envisioned the loci specifically and rhetoric generally as having wider implications (i.e., beyond the courtroom in this case). without, when materials are collected that are from outside and are not inherent in the matter. If there is a question about the matter as a whole, its entire nature must be set out by definition ... But if about a part, then a partition must be used ... But if we use an argument based on a name .... But if we start from what relates to the matter, there are a number of ‘seats’ for arguments ... We will look for connected terms, genus, species, similarities, differences, opposites, attendant circumstances, consistencies, so-called antecedents, and contradictions, and we will search for causes and what results from causes, and look for things that are greater, equal, and lesser. 360 As classified above, the loci belong to a group that Cicero describes as consisting of those that are ‘from the essential nature of the matter at hand.’ 361 The four main types of loci that he distinguishes include definitio (cum res quae sit tota quaeritur); partitio (aut pars eius); ex vocabulo (aut vocabulam); and a series of loci under the heading rem illud quod attingat. 362 In De Oratore especially, these loci are presented as useful sources of argumentation for all variety of argument, whether philosophical, rhetorical, or juridical. Nor was Cicero the only orator to stress the relevance of the loci as a tool for finding and structuring one’s rhetorical argument. 363 Cicero was, however, a classical Roman intellectual of especial importance to Lactantius both stylistically, as we have seen in Lactantius’ imitative eloquence, and as I argue 131 360 O 2.163-166: Quid enim est, in quo haereat, qui viderit omne, quod sumatur in oratione aut ad probandum aut ad refellendum, aut ex <re> sua sumi vi atque natura aut adsumi foris? [Ex] sua vi, cum aut res quae sit tota quaeratur, aut pars eius, aut vocabulum quod habeat, aut quippiam, rem illam quod attingat; extrinsecus autem, cum ea, quae sunt foris neque haerent in rei natura, conliguntur. Si res tota quaeritur, definitione universa vis explicanda est, sic: "si maiestas est amplitudo ac dignitas civitatis, is eam minuit, qui exercitum hostibus populi Romani tradidit, non qui eum, qui id fecisset, populi Romani potestati tradidit." Sin pars, partitione, hoc modo: "aut senatui parendum de salute rei publicae fuit aut aliud consilium instituendum aut sua sponte faciendum; aliud consilium, superbum; suum, adrogans; utendum igitur fuit consilio senatus." Si ex vocabulo, ut Carbo: "si consul est, qui consulit patriae, quid aliud fecit Opimius?" Sin ab eo, quod rem attingit, plures sunt argumentorum sedes ac loci, nam et coniuncta quaeremus et genera et partis generibus subiectas et similitudines et dissimilitudines et contraria et consequentia et consentanea et quasi praecurrentia et repugnantia et causas rerum vestigabimus et ea, quae ex causis orta sint, et maiora, paria, minora quaeremus. Cf. the same list (with a few changes in wording) at Topica 8-24. 361 O 2.163, above n.360. 362 O 2.163-173, as above n.360. The last category include: ex coniuctis; ex genere; ex parte quae est subiecta generi; ex similitudine; ex contrario; ex consequentibus; ex consentaneis; ex praecurrentibus; ex repugnantibus; ex causis; ex iis autem quae sunt orta de causis; ex maiore; ex minore; and ex pari. 363 For a concise overview of the loci/topica in rhetoric see Reinhardt (2003) 18-35. here, in an even more fundamental way. While Cicero likely was not the only orator to whom Lactantius would have turned, or more accurately would have been inclined, by virtue of his own education and rhetorical training, to have turned reflexively when he began to formulate an argument, he remains the most likely. In what follows, then, we shall consider the ways in which Lactantius’ argument in De ira Dei used various types (and sub-types) of the loci as described by Cicero. 364 Our discussion will focus on Lactantius’ use of the loci in three major arguments of the text: his articulation of the relationship between anger and kindness, his qualification of some anger as just (as opposed to the unjust), and his definition of anger. One of the arguments that Lactantius most frequently makes in the text is that of the inherent relationship between anger and kindness. His initial framing of this relationship presents it as a series of alternatives: either God has anger and not kindness, or he has neither, or he has both, or he has only kindness and not anger. 365 This expression of the problem takes the form of what Antonius identifies as an argument ‘from the part,’ about which he says the following: But if about a part, then a partition must be used, in this way: ‘Concerning the safety of the State, he either had to obey the Senate, or establish another council, or act on his own initiative. Establishing another council would have been haughty; following his own counsel would have been arrogant; therefore, he had to employ the counsel of the Senate. 366 The partition has the advantage of providing the orator an opportunity to lay out the various possibilities, as Antonius does in the example above and as Lactantius does in chapters three 132 364 As noted above, this discussion will use the list of loci as given in both De Oratore and in Topica. 365 ID 2.9, supra n.347. 366 O 2.165, quoted supra n.360, to be read with Wisse and May’s (2001), 166 notes 129 and 130. through six of the treatise. Rather than simply state each possibility, however, Lactantius attributes the opinion to a philosophical group and then proceeds to refute it. 367 Another ‘commonplace’ lurks behind these formulations, that of genus. In De Oratore, Antonius categorizes the locus of genus under that of ‘those related to the matter,’ giving the following example: ‘If magistracies ought to be subservient to the power of the Roman people, why do you accuse Norbanus, whose tribunate complied with the wishes of the community?’. 368 Such a phrasing of the argument suppresses the underlying syllogism (regardless of that syllogism’s validity). The Ciceronian example begins with the premise about the magistracies, identifies Norbanus as having held the office of a magistrate, and seeks to exculpate him from the charge on that basis of the duties of a magistrate. Lactantius’ underlying argument about the suitability of anger and kindness to God differs only in the terms. If, he argues, one attributes kindness, an emotion, to God, how then can one remove anger, since anger too belongs to the class of emotions? 369 Cicero’s expression of the terms in De Oratore is less technical than it is in the Topica, and though Lactantius too refrains from employing a technical vocabulary, the underlying principle reflects the argumentation that Cicero describes. Lactantius’ understanding of the function of anger is critical to his position on its relationship to kindness and its place in God. In making the assertion that anger must by necessity belong in God, Lactantius draws upon two additional loci, those of causes and of 133 367 This amounts to a series of statements consisting of a confirmatio followed by a confutatio: Confirmatio 1: God cannot have only anger and not kindness (3); Confirmatio 2: God cannot have neither anger nor kindness (4); Confutatio 2: Epicurus; Confirmatio 3: God cannot have only kindness and not anger (5); Confutatio 3: the Stoics; Confirmatio 4: God has anger; religion depends on this (6). 368 O 2.167, quoted supra n.360. 369 As we shall see below, Lactantius sees all emotions as having one ratio, making their separation impossible. the results of those causes, both of which Antonius in De Oratore includes under the group of loci that are ‘related to the matter.’ 370 The Ciceronian explanation of each is again helpful: From causes, as follows: ‘If you want to eliminate greed, you must eliminate its mother, extravagance.’ From what results from causes: ‘If we use the resources of the treasury to support war and to adorn peace, then let us devote ourselves to safeguarding the public revenues.’ 371 Lactantius argues that God’s anger is a response to impiety and his kindness a response to piety and worship; put in the language that Cicero uses above, if one wants to eliminate God’s anger he must eliminate his unjust deeds, and if he wants to reap the benefits of God’s kindness he must work toward the proper worship of God. Within the space of a few lines, Lactantius links these ideas to his original statement about the mutual dependency that exists between anger and kindness: For if God is not angry with the impious and the unrighteous, then he does not love the pious and the just. Therefore the error of those who remove anger together with kindness is more consistent. For in opposite matters it is necessary to be moved either to both sides or to neither. Thus he who loves the good also hates the wicked, and he who does not hate the wicked does not love the good, because the 134 370 O 2.166, quoted supra n.360; Cf. Topica 58, where the idea of cause is treated in slightly different detail (and apart from its position as one of the loci listed in 8-24): Proximus est locus rerum efficientium quae causae appellantur; deinde rerum effectarum ab efficientibus causis. In the Topica, Cicero identifies two types of causes, those that bring about by their own force the things that are subject to their force, and those which are not ‘fully efficient,’ but without which an effect cannot be brought about. Lactantius’ description of anger as a materia of which God is in possession and one that leads to the restraining of faults together suggest that anger itself is not the thing which brings about an effect (punishment) on its own, but rather that thing without which the effect (again, punishment) could not take place. Anger requires the movement of God’s mind and the action of the divine will to produce any result. 371 O 2.171: Ex causis autem rerum sic: "avaritiam si tollere vultis, mater eius est tollenda, luxuries." Ex eis autem, quae sunt orta de causis: "si aerari copiis et ad belli adiumenta et ad ornamenta pacis utimur, vectigalibus serviamus." love of the good comes from the hatred of the wicked, and the hatred of the wicked descends from the love of the good. 372 This is an idea fundamental both to Lactantius’ understanding of how the world works and to his sense of how to understand the divine nature. If what we see, Lactantius reasons, are people who are punished, those who are fortunate, and those who have been shown mercy of some kind, it must be the case that God has the cause of each of these situations in himself. Thus if the effect, or result, is punishment, the cause is anger; if fortune, favor; if mercy, pity. 373 For Lactantius, the effects are almost more important than the causes themselves; his argument stresses that the very fact that one sees certain outcomes necessitates that specific causes were behind them. Once he establishes that anger exists in God, Lactantius must counter his opponents’ argument that anger can only be understood as a commotio or perturbatio, as an emotion with negative associations including the loss of self-control and one that carries the potential for violence. 374 Lactantius responds to this criticism by again appealing to the partitio; he begins by distinguishing human from divine anger but soon shifts into a differentiation between just and unjust anger. He first writes of anger in the most general sense; particularly in the chapters (two through five) in which he lays out the mutual dependence between anger and kindness he writes in only broad terms. As he shifts into the portion of the argument that 135 372 ID 5.9-10: Nam si deus non irascitur inpiis et iniustis, nec pios utique iustosque diligit. Ergo constantior est error illorum qui et iram simul et gratiam tollunt. In rebus diversis aut in utramque partem moveri necesse est aut in neutram. [10] Ita qui bonos diligit, et malos odit, et qui malos non odit, nec bonos diligit, quia et diligere bonos ex odio malorum venit et malos odisse ex bonorum caritate descendit. This also has a parallel in the example of master and slave, on which see chapter two pages 94-96. Cicero’s explanation of effect is particularly pertinent to Lactantius’ formulation of anger. After having discussed cause at some length, Cicero goes on to briefly expound on effect, which he describes as follows: ‘just as a cause indicates what has been brought about, so what has been brought about shows which cause had been there.’ (Topica 67: Coniunctus huic causarum lovo ille locus est qui efficitur ex causis. Ut enim causa quid sit effectum indicat, sic quod effectum est quae fuerit causa demonstrat.) All translation from the Topica are those of Reinhardt 2003. 373 ID 16.1-4; see below pages 141-142. 374 ID 5.2, this is the reason Lactantius thinks that the Stoics think anger is incompatible with God. seeks to explain the necessity of anger to religion, however, he identifies multiple types of anger; these include human and divine, just and unjust, temporary and eternal forms. Each of these, in turn, can be evoked by particular terms of description, so that ‘unjust anger,’ for example, is the kind that is vicious, cruel, and violent. 375 Similarly, specific groups can be identified by their use of one or the other type of anger, so that there are certain types of people who are prone to one or the other. Despite the elements of definition involved in this process, Lactantius’ argumentation of these points primarily reflects a concern with difference. Antonius’ example of this locus in De Oratore is that ‘It may be typical of barbarians to live only for the moment, but our plans should aim at what endures,’ noting further that ‘in both these categories, of similarities and differences, we must often adduce examples taken from the deeds or words or experiences of others.’ 376 The principles of distinction and separation that characterize Antonius’ explanation of the locus are those that underpin Lactantius’ divisions between various types of anger. So, for example, while it might be normal for mortals to rage and be furious (because they have unjust anger), God has only just anger, consequently elevating his behavior above the mean. 377 In the schema that Lactantius has established, anger, kindness, pity, fear, envy, and jealousy are all identified as species of the genus emotion. If one were to respond to the question ‘what is anger?’ or ‘what is fear?’, in both cases ‘emotion’ would be the answer. 136 375 Cicero identifies the kinds of questions that characterize description with the following examples: qualis sit avarus, qualis adsentator ceteraque eiusdem generis in quibus et natura et vita describitur (Topica 83); this is more information than he gives in De Oratore (on which see below, pages xx-xx) this whittling down the various kinds of anger and ultimately into what Lactantius considers to be just (which he equates with divine) anger happens over the course of the text, but see especially 2, 4, 5, 15-18, and 21. 376 O 2.169: At ex dissimilitudine: "si barbarorum est in diem vivere, nostra consilia sempiternum tempus spectare debent." Atque utroque in genere et similitudinis et dissimilitudinis exempla sunt ex aliorum factis aut dictis aut eventis et fictae narrationes saepe ponendae. 377 See for example ID 17.4 with 17.18. Lactantius then uses the ideas of vice and virtue to differentiate between these species of emotion, so that the first half belong to virtue and the second group to vice, in so doing he gives one way of thinking about the question of what sort of emotions each is. We should take care to note that this is another fundamental way in which he diverges from the more standard claim that anger, especially, belongs to the realm of vice. 378 There is no indication, in this text at least, that Lactantius felt a need to further differentiate between types of kindness and pity. Anger, however, receives a lengthy treatment that consists of Lactantius’ elucidation of a difference between two kinds of anger, just and unjust. It is from this difference that all other claims are made and believed to be valid; in drawing out the differences between just and unjust anger, Lactantius again deploys a number of the loci that Cicero describes in De Oratore. Unjust anger, according to Lactantius, is not terribly different from the basic idea of anger criticized by the philosophers, since this anger is characteristic of the malevolent, is fiery and vicious, and otherwise undesirable. 379 For these very reasons, the Stoics and Epicureans cannot attribute this kind of anger to God; these are characteristics that refer to a being that is weak, fallible, and human. As such, they correspond to what Antonius describes as ‘attendant circumstances,’ the example he gives is that ‘if he was killed with a sword, and you, his enemy, were seized with a bloody sword on the very spot, and no one 137 378 For a wide array of evidence for the evaluation of anger as a vice, see William V . Harris, Restraining Rage: The Ideology of Anger Control in Classical Antiquity, Harvard University Press 2001, 8, 28, 119, 122, 175, 195, 237 n.41, and 273. 379 For example, at 5.1-3, on the Stoics’ misrepresentation of anger: Existimantur Stoici et alii nonnulli aliquanto melius de divinitate sensisse, qui aiunt gratiam in deo esse, iram non esse. Favorabilis admodum ac popularis oratio non cadere in deum hanc animi pusillitatem ut ab ullo se laesum putet, qui laedi non potest, ut quieta illa et sancta maiestas concitetur perturbetur insaniat, quod est terrenae fragilitatis; iram enim commotionem mentis esse ac perturbationem, quae sit a deo aliena. Quod si hominem quoque, qui modo sit sapiens et gravis, ira non deceat, siquidem cum in anumum cuisque incidit, velut saeva tempestas tantos excitet fluctus ut statum mentis inmutet, ardescant oculi, tremat os, lingua titubet, dentes concrepent, alternis vultum maculet nunc suffusus rubor nunc pallor albescens, quanto magis deum non deceat tam foeda mutatio! but you was seen there, and no one else had a motive, and you have always been reckless, can we feel any doubt about the crime?’ 380 Lactantius’ description of the Stoics’ conception of anger is no less animated: For they say that anger is a commotion and perturbation of the mind, which is inconsistent with God, since when it falls upon the mind of any one, as a violent tempest it excites such waves that it changes the condition of the mind: the eyes gleam, the countenance trembles, the tongue stammers, the teeth chatter, the countenance is alternately stained now with redness spread over it, now with white paleness. But if anger is unbecoming to a man (provided he be of wisdom and authority) how much more is so foul a change unbecoming to God! And if man, who has authority and power, inflicts harm far and wide through anger, sheds blood, overthrows cities, destroys populations, reduces provinces to desolation, how much more is it believable that God, who has power over the whole human race and over the universe itself, would have been about to destroy everything if he were angry? 381 As Lactantius presents it, the Stoics’ criticism of anger is closely tied to the circumstances that they see as attendant upon anger. Put in the Ciceronian phrasing, if one sees a person displaying the kinds of attributes and physical conditions expressed in the excerpt quoted above, the only reasonable conclusion is that that individual is angry. Further, because these are signs and characteristics with negative associations, the valuation of anger itself is that it is a vice and something that should be absent from any good, benevolent being. The task that thus presents itself to Lactantius is to differentiate (as he does) between this anger, which he comes to term unjust, and another type, which he calls just. He begins this process by identifying the recipients of each kind of anger. 382 The malevolence or viciousness of unjust anger is something innate to it and thus serves to 138 380 O 2.170: Ex consequentibus: "si et ferro interfectus ille et tu inimicus eius cum gladio cruento comprehensus in illo ipso loco et nemo praeter te ibi visus est et causa nemini et tu semper audax, quid est quod de facinore dubitare possimus?" 381 ID 5.2b-4 (for 2-3 see supra n.347) ... Et si homo qui habeat inperium ac potestatem late noceat per iram, sanguinem fundat, urbes subvertat, populos deleat, provincias ad solitudinem redigat, quanto magis deum, qui habeat totius generis humani et ipsius mundi potestatem, perditurum fuisse universa credible sit, si irasceretur? 382 This is a mode of differentiation and specification Lactantius has begun elsewhere in the treatise but commits to in the seventeenth chapter. distinguish it in a fundamental way. Unjust anger does not discriminate in fixing on a target; it is as the Stoics envision it, quick to be provoked and a harbinger of ills. 383 In contrast, just anger is described as having as its targets the wicked, it leads to the just and proper punishment of those who commit unjust deeds, and is also useful as a means by which to instill fear in others. 384 In order for something to be recognized as just anger, it must have these three attributes, and importantly, it can exist in both God and humans. At no point in the treatise does Lactantius argue that unjust anger is equivalent to human anger, nor does he at any point use the term ‘human anger.’ 385 What he does do is discuss the manifestation of unjust anger in humans, as well as in animals, as something that should be at least limited. 386 Just anger, however, has just as much of a place in humans as it does in God. It is not the attribution of human that makes anger unjust, nor the attribution of divine that make it just, rather just anger and unjust anger each have a specific function. Both just and unjust anger subsist in man - man can be angry (justly or unjustly); just anger alone subsists in God, that anger is always there, God can be angry but does not always need to be so. In sum, unjust anger is malevolent and vicious; just anger is directed at the wicked, results in punishment, and aimed at the restraining of faults. Of these two types of anger, 139 383 ID 17.14. 384 Lactantius does not say anything about the idea of deserved or undeserved punishment, but seems to hint that there can be a punishment that does not fit or suit the circumstances; whether this would be due to the unsuitability of the punisher or of the punishment to the crime is also unclear. 385 Instead, throughout the treatise, just anger is equated with the anger of God, and unjust anger with the unrighteous anger of humans, the latter the part of weakness, fragility, and a lack of self-control. At the same time, and as a way to buttress his argument for divine wrath, Lactantius maintains that God created (just) anger in men for it to be used. The essential argument, in chapter 21, is that we would not have such a thing if God did not intend for us to have it. 386 ID 21.2-3: Possem dicere quod ira hominis refrenanda fuerit, quia iniuste saepe irascitur et praesentem habet motum, quia temporalis est. Itaque, ne fierent ea quae faciunt per iram et humiles et mediocres et magni reges, temperari debuit furor eius et conprimi, ne mentis inpos aliquod inexpiabile facinus admitteret. Deus autem et non ad praesens irascitur quia aeternus est perfectaeque virtutis, et numquam nisi merito irascitur. both the just and the unjust can exist in humans, but only the just can exist in God. By virtue of this strategic, rhetorically argued progression through the problem, Lactantius thus comes to argue that God has anger, and defends that anger as a literal emotion, rather than trying to explain it as a symbol or trope for some other (more desirable and acceptable) notion that we are meant to understand in its place. Indeed, Lactantius stresses that the just anger he attributes to God is an emotion; his tactic is to convince his audience to rethink their estimation and evaluation of that anger. This theme garners special attention when Lactantius comes to treat and discuss definitions of anger, eventually offering his own. Throughout this process of discarding previous definitions and adopting new ones, Lactantius works from the principle that Antonius identifies as a question about ‘the matter as a whole,’ in which case: Its entirety must be set out by a definition, as follows: ‘If the majesty of the community consists in its prestige and dignity, then it has been impaired by the man who has delivered up an army to the enemies of the Roman people, not by the man who has delivered up the one who did this to the power of the Roman people.’ 387 It is not just the name that is at issue (as would be the case if the locus were ‘an argument based on a name’) but rather everything that is associated with it; the definition of the matter, here anger, encompasses not just terminology but also purpose and a more nuanced understanding of the question at hand. Lactantius works out his definition of anger in three parts. His first step is to claim that anger has a materia in God, that it has some physical matter in the divinity. 388 In anticipation of someone’s inquiry as to what this materia is, Lactantius gives not definitions, but three exempla: 140 387 O 2.164: Si res tota quaeritur, definitione universa vis explicanda est, sic: "si maiestas est amplitudo ac dignitas civitatis, is eam minuit, qui exercitum hostibus populi Romani tradidit, non qui eum, qui id ecisset, populi Romani potestati tradidit." 388 We first find this term used at ID 15.12, where pity and kindness are also said to have materia in God. When they are first afflicted by evils, man for the most part flee to God, they beseech and entreat him since they believe him capable of repelling injuries from them. He has then a cause for taking pity; for truly he is not so severe and contemptuous of men that he would deny help to those flailing. Many similarly are under the persuasion that justice pleases God, and they venerate him who is master and parent of all with tireless prayers and frequent vows, they offer gifts and sacrifices, they attend his name with praises and endeavor to merit his favor through just and good deeds. So it is that God is both able to and ought to show favor. ... In contrast to these, however, there are others, criminal and nefarious men who pollute all things with their desires, cause distress through murders, commit fraud, plunder, and perjure, who spare neither relatives nor parents, and who neglect the laws and even God himself. Therefore anger has matter in God. 389 In each case, we are given a set of behaviors and an appropriate, emotional reaction from God. The content here is familiar by now from our previous discussions of it: these are the examples in which Lactantius identifies a human condition (suffering, worship, and wickedness) and informs his reader that this condition, and the nature of the relationship to God which it embodies, is the cause of one or the other reaction on God’s part (pity, kindness, and anger). It is not just that God has these emotions, but that he has a clear reason both for having and for using them. The next step on Lactantius’ path to a definition of anger is his insistence on the way in which his definition is different than that of his predecessors. At its most basic, this difference comes down to the idea of injury, here the force of the argument is on the terms used in the definition. Lactantius cites numerous definitions of anger as they have been given by other philosophers, each of which contains an implicit or explicit reference to suffering injury or pain. He then rejects each of these on the grounds that what is being 141 389 ID 16.1-2; 4: Primum accidentibus malis afflicti homines ad Deum plerumque confugiunt, mitigant, obsecrant, credentes eum posse ab his iniurias propulsare. Habet igitur causam miserandi; nec enim tam immitis est hominumque contemptor, ut auxilium laborantibus deneget. Item plurimi, quibus persuasum est Deo placere iustitiam, eumque qui sit dominus ac parens omnium, venerantur, et precibus assiduis ac frequentibus votis, dona et sacrificia offerunt, nomen eius laudibus prosequuntur, iustis ac bonis operibus demereri eum laborantes. Ergo est, propter quod Deus et possit, et debeat gratificari. ... Contra autem sunt alii facinerosi ac nefarii qui omnia libidinibus polluant, caedibus vexent, fraudent rapiant periurent, nec consanguineis nec parentibus parcant, leges et ipsum etiam deum neglegant. Habet igitur ira in Deo materiam. defined is unjust, rather than just anger. 390 After some discussion, he gives us his own definition: For just as we ought to restrain those who are placed under our power, so even God must restrain the faults of everyone. But in order that he do so, it is necessary that he be angry, because it is natural for one who is good to be moved and incited at the fault of another. So they ought to have defined it thus: anger is an emotion rising for the restraining of faults. 391 The question of injury, an argument against which characterized Lactantius’ dismissal of his predecessors’ definitions of anger, is again dispensed with in favor of an alternative: discipline. Although it could be read as some sort of sleight of hand, the shift has been foreshadowed in the chapters leading up to this definition. Lactantius has repeatedly emphasized that just anger is employed by God for the correction of the wicked and those who nefariously subvert the divine law. The modification of one term is noteworthy. Lactantius claims that anger arises ‘for the restraining of faults,’ and by doing so marks a critical point of difference from the previous definitions of the philosophers that he had quoted; this anger has the explicit purpose of restraint rather than retaliation. Lactantius maintains that, unlike the judge, who may not see the offenses for which he must decide the penalties, nothing escapes God’s notice. 392 It is because of this that God must get angry, for if he failed to restrain the faults of those who have committed an infraction, he has failed in his capacity as the administrator 142 390 ID 17.14. 391 ID 17.19-20 (some of which has already been quoted and discussed above): Nam sicuti nos potestati nostrae subjectos coercere debemus, ita etiam peccata universorum Deus coercere debet. Quod ut faciat, irascatur necesse est; quia naturale est bono ad alterius peccatum moveri et incitari. Ergo definire debuerunt: Ira est motus animi ad coercenda peccata insurgentis. 392 ID 18.1b, for example: --Atquin nullus est qui peccantem possit videre tranquille. Possit fortasse qui legibus praesidet, quia facinus non sub oculis eius admittitur sed defertur aliunde tamquam dubiam. Nec umquam potest scelus esse tam clarum ut defensioni locus non sit, et ideo potest iudex non moveri adversum eum qui potest innocens inveniri, cumque detectum facinus in lucem venerit, iam non sua sed legum sententia utitur. We shall revisit the role that the judge plays in the text in the final chapter. of the world. Nor is the degree of the fault taken into consideration; whether great or small, there is a responsibility to be moved by it and to act accordingly. Crucial to this framework is that the object of anger be someone in a position inferior to that of the one acting in anger. 393 Any form of disrespect merits God’s wrath and his subsequent punishment of the offender. It is in the purpose of this wrath, however, that Lactantius differs. If, in the majority of the philosophical opinions on the matter, anger arises as a means of seeking vengeance or of otherwise restoring a feeling of superiority, in Lactantius’ view it is for the restraining of faults. 394 Punishment is involved, but God’s impetus for getting angry, insofar as Lactantius presents it, has more to do with the intended effect of that punishment; it exists not only to put the offender in his or her place but also to prevent him or her from committing another offense and to encourage those who have some knowledge of the event to refrain from wickedness themselves. Even though Lactantius differs in the purpose itself of anger, the identification of a purpose reflects another way in which he drew upon Cicero’s rhetorical theory in his argument for divine anger. As we have noted, Lactantius defines anger as a ‘movement of 143 393 In this last point we are reminded of Aristotle, and particularly his definition of anger. Even though Lactantius dismisses it because of the element of injury, the framing of the emotion as one that occurs in someone who believes that they have been slighted (injured, or otherwise disappointed) by someone whom they perceive to be inferior to them is reminiscent of Aristotle’s thoughts about anger in the Rhetoric. Lactantius might add to the relationships expressed therein that between mortals and God: if, as Aristotle writes, ‘a man expects to be specially respected by his inferiors...,’ so too would God expect to be respected, which is perhaps to say worshipped and obeyed in this context, by humankind. Rhetoric II.2 1378b-1379a: A man expects to be specially respected by his inferiors in birth, in capacity, in goodness, and generally in anything in which he is much their superior: as where money is concerned a wealthy man looks for respect from a poor man; where speaking is concerned, the man with a turn for oratory looks for respect from one who cannot speak; the ruler demands the respect of the ruled, and the man who thinks he ought to be a ruler demands the respect of the man whom he thinks he ought to be ruling. (Trans. Roberts.) 394 The cause might be the same, in principle, for Lactantius, the breaking of the law and thus an infraction of one’s relationship with God, but his entire characterization lacks the sense of this being a personal offense (so as to create injury) or a personal response (so that the seeking of vengeance of the common definition, something that is phrased in personal terms, is recast in almost legal and disassociated terms - it is not entirely in God’s interest that he get angry, but in the interest of society and humankind). the mind arising for the restraining of faults,’ and it is this purpose of anger that is crucial to his understanding of God’s wrath. Over and above all of the other claims that Lactantius makes about God’s anger (that it is just, regulated, so on) is that it has the important purpose of curbing the behavior of those who offend and providing an example to others. The identification of this purpose and Lactantius’ emphasis on it resonates with Antonius’ statement, quoted earlier, that the most important component of a rhetorical argument is the articulation and argumentation of ‘the issue to be decided.’ What we find in De ira Dei is a series of key moments in which Lactantius separates, divides, and defines. He maintains that anger is an emotion and from there distinguishes just and unjust anger. Just anger has appropriate ends and circumstances: it is targeted at the wicked, has the effect of punishment, and most importantly, is grounded in an ultimate purpose. The purpose of just anger, that is, the restraining of faults, is at the core of Lactantius’ description and definition of the idea. Anger is justice itself, nor is it a stand-in for justice, but rather it is an enactment of justice, the means by which the good are rewarded, the wicked punished, and balance restored. Moreover it it is preventative: the punishment is meant to instruct those who have not yet committed an offense, the lesson is intended for those who witness the reward of the good and the punishment of the wicked. Defined and described in these terms, the idea of divine anger accomplished more for Lactantius than did the disavowal of it by his peers. Instead of finding ways to explain away or otherwise negotiate representations of divine anger, Lactantius embraces the idea and uses it to convey a specific message about justice and the role of God. In both its structure and its argumentation, De ira Dei reflects the classical rhetorical training in which its author was most experienced; Lactantius’ emulation of Cicero is not only stylistic but also formative. That Lactantius relied on the principles that he learned as a 144 student and later taught as a rhetor should not surprise; that these strategies informed his theological perspective is a facet of his identity that has parallels in the works and writings of his peers among the Greek-writing Christian intellectuals. 395 Lactantius’ strictly rhetorical argument and argumentation, however, represent a distinct choice on the part of the author: De ira Dei fits neatly into no category - it is not clearly apologetic and certainly not the kind of homiletic or exegetical text the sort of which a Philo or Origen would write. Like his Divinae Institutiones, the text has judicial undertones, but it does not offer the kinds of precepts that are found in the longer work, nor is it necessarily prescriptive. What the treatise does do, however, is to formulate a theological claim in rhetorical terms. It is not just that Lactantius looked toward his training in rhetoric or to the principles of reading and articulation that he could extract from it, but rather that he presented a doctrinal matter as a rhetorical piece. Two considerations help to elucidate the reasons behind this choice. The first brings us back to Cicero but again, this time our interest is in his idea of the relationship between rhetoric and philosophy. Points of dissent between rhetoricians and philosophers were many in antiquity; modern critics and scholars have brought to light the various positions maintained and defended by both. In its most basic form, the matter at stake was one that questioned training and preparation: could a rhetorician adequately expound upon a 145 395 Although Jerome, for instance, fretted over whether or not he was more Ciceronian than Christian: at Apol 2.6, Jerome recounts a dream wherein, upon meeting heaven’s judge and identifying himself as a Christian, the judge replies ‘You lie: you are a Ciceronian. Where your treasure is, there is your heart.’ As a consequence Jerome vows never again to read the classics. In this respect, Jerome’s comments support the assertion of W . Leadbetter that ‘Christian intellectuals, in particular, had to struggle with classical learning. They could not ignore it because it formed the core of their own education and they used its forms - the letter, the speech, the treatise - to communicate their own position. That involved them in necessary compromise with something that they formally rejected.’ (‘Lactantius and Paideia in the Latin West’ in T. W . Hillard, R. A. Kearsley, C.E.V . Nixon, and A.M. Nobbs, edd., Ancient History in a Modern University, Vol. II, Early Christianity, Late Antiquity, and Beyond. Eerdmans 1998, 245-252 at 245). Lactantius would seem to be an exception to this statement. philosophical matter or was a philosopher appropriately equipped to criticize the art of the rhetorician? A brief scan of Cicero’s corpus suggests that he, at least, believed that an individual could do both. This is a view that he suggests in De Oratore. In an oft-quoted excerpt, Cicero argues that the rhetorician can apply his art to any subject: But if we want to assign to the orator, besides his normal tasks, that other wide- ranging, unrestricted, and extensive group of questions, that is, if we think it is his duty to speak about good and evil, the things to be pursued and avoided, honorable or base, expedient or inexpedient, about virtue, justice, self-control, prudence, greatness of spirit, generosity, dutifulness, friendship, moral duty, loyalty, and all the other virtues and their corresponding vices, about the State, the exercise of power, military affairs, the political system, and human behavior -- let us then take this group of questions upon ourselves also, provided that it be confined within moderate limits. 396 That matters of a philosophical nature can and should fall under the jurisdiction of the orator is thus an idea with which Lactantius would have been familiar; we see this in action in De ira Dei. It is not merely that Lactantius chose a medium of argumentation with which he was most comfortable but rather that he saw in that medium a justifiable and appropriate way to express a matter of Christian theology. Nor was the applicability of rhetoric’s principles to philosophical (or in Lactantius’ case, theological) matters the only way to understand the argumentation of the treatise. The deeper motivation behind Lactantius’ strategy was that he, like Cicero, saw in the proper exercise of rhetoric the pursuit of a reasoned and logical argument. Unlike philosophers, 146 396 O 2.67: Sed si illam quoque partem quaestionum oratori volumus adiungere vagam et liberam et late patentem, ut de rebus bonis aut malis, expetendis aut fugiendis, honestis aut turpibus, utilibus aut inutilibus, de virtute, de iustitia, de continentia, de prudentia, de magnitudine animi, de liberalitate, de pietate, de amicitia, de officio, de fide, de ceteris virtutibus contrariisque vitiis dicendum oratori putemus; itemque de re publica, de imperio, de re militari, de disciplina civitatis, de hominum moribus, adsumamus eam quoque partem, sed ita, ut sit circumscripta modicis regionibus. Cf . De Inventione 1.1-3 and O 2.34. See also the comments of Clarke (1996), 61: ‘To appreciate his [Cicero’s] contribution justly one must see it against the background of contemporary rhetorical teaching. One will then recognise the pertinence of the main theme of De Oratore. In emphasising the importance of having something to say as well as knowing how to say it, and the desirability of combining the two main disciplines of the ancient world, rhetoric and philosophy, he was putting his finger on one of the weaknesses of ancient education. It was unfortunate that his message was so little heeded.’ orators (in their own estimation) were required to stick to a specific plan and procedure by the adherence to which they approached the truth of the matter. Cicero levels the following criticism at orators who fail to do so: And indeed, most people plead their cases in the forum haphazardly and without any method, while some do so skillfully thanks to training or a certain amount of experience. So there could be no doubt that, should someone observe the reason why some people speak better than others, he could give a description of it. 397 A good orator has been trained in and employs a good method (ratio); later in the text Cicero will argue that this method (ratio, again) depends on three means of persuasion. 398 Lactantius too frequently returns to the idea that it is because of the ratio of a matter (whether that matter be the speech, or treatise, itself, the argument, the emotions, or something else) that the answer to the question becomes apparent. He uses the term to mean not only ‘reason’ but also ‘method’ and ‘system,’ so for example, some people do not understand the ratio of the ‘great and heavenly secret,’ ratio (and ordo) can ‘lead to the hiding place of truth,’ there is no ratio for men to hope if God is only the author of evils,’ and there is one ratio to which the emotions belong. 399 Lactantius’ use of ratio to mean ‘method’ or ‘system’ can take two forms. On the one hand, he invokes the term when he wants to mark a transition in the speech or when he 147 397 O 2.32: Ut igitur de ipso genere sum confessus,' inquit Antonius 'artem esse non maximam, sic illud adfirmo, praecepta posse quaedam dari peracuta ad pertractandos animos hominum et ad excipiendas eorum voluntates. Huius rei scientiam si quis volet magnam quandam artem esse dicere, non repugnabo; etenim cum plerique temere ac nulla ratione causas in foro dicant, non nulli autem propter exercitationem aut propter consuetudinem aliquam callidius id faciant, non est dubium quin, si quis animadverterit, quid sit, qua re alii melius quam alii dicant, id possit notare: ergo id qui toto in genere fecerit, is si non plane artem, at quasi artem quandam invenerit. 398 O 2.115: Ita omnis ratio dicendi tribus ad persuadendum rebus est nixa: ut probemus vera esse, quae defendimus; ut conciliemus eos nobis, qui audiunt; ut animos eorum, ad quemcumque causa postulabit motum, vocemus. 399 ID 1.9; 2.10; 3.2; 3.4; 4.12; 5.15; 7.1; 7.2; 7.5; 7.10; 7.15; 8.3; 9.1; 9.4; 9.8; 10.2; 10.11; 10.22; 10.25; 10.32; 10.34; 10.36; 10.38; 10.41; 10.51; 10.52; 11.10; 12.3; 12.5; 13.8; 13.13; 13.17; 13.20; 13.22; 13.24; 14.2; 15.5; 15.9; 17.2; 17.12; 17.13; 18.10; 22.3; 23.9; 24.6. comments on his purpose; thus so that the speech may progress as it should it must be lead by ratio. 400 On the other hand, his criticisms of his opponents are phrased as sarcastic comments on and assaults against their philosophical ratio. It is by virtue of the Stoics’ ‘accurate method of reasoning’ that they attribute only kindness to God and not anger and thus ‘fall into the greatest error.’ 401 Lactantius is clearly mocking the Stoics and setting their false, philosophical reasoning against his own rhetorical methodology. This line of argument has parallels in the Divinae Institutiones, where ratio is also preferred as the means by which to come to the knowledge and worship of God. 402 Religion, for Lactantius, is a rational choice, thoughtful and reasoned out; it is not a system of beliefs to which one dedicates himself based solely on revelation. 403 A decision reached by such a method requires a similar method of exposition and explication; philosophical terms and thought are inadequate to the task, but the principles of rhetorical argumentation provide the tools by which Lactantius can convince and persuade his audience. The rhetorical system and principles that Lactantius adopted for the purpose of persuasion indicate a conscious and intentional decision on the part of the apologist. We have thus far seen how this was in many ways a natural choice, and one that reflects Lactantius’ educational training and background as well as his vocation. I have argued that in it he found a method for the explication and presentation of theological arguments that he believed to contain greater 148 400 See e.g., his use of ratio at 2.10: Consideremus singula, ut nos ad latebras veritatis et ratio et ordo deducat. 401 ID 5.15: Ii vero, quos ratio et veritatis argumenti huius inducit, falso omnino sententia suscepta, in maximum errorem cadunt. 402 Michel Perrin’s insightful analysis of this trend in the Divinae Institutiones should be consulted; he references De ira Dei from time to time but focuses on the longer treatise: ‘Lactance et la "ratio" romaine et chretienne,’ en deca et au-dela de la "ratio": actes de la journee d'etude, Universite de Lille, 3, 28, et 29 septembre 2001., Lille, Villeneuve-d-Asq, 2001, 153-160. 403 Perrin (2001) 155. reason and reasoning than methods of philosophical discourse. In the next chapter, we shall devote further attention to a consideration of the other factors at play and issues to which Lactantius was responding in choosing this method of argumentation. 149 [4.] Anger and the Apologists: Lactantius in his Christian Context Thus far in our study of Lactantius we have examined his indebtedness to Cicero, the relevance of the Old Testament to his claim for divine anger, and the rhetorical devices and strategies used to make the argument. This inquiry has focused on Lactantius’ relationship to earlier sources: we have thought about the Classical authors upon whom Lactantius drew in thinking about divine anger and by whom his style and rhetorical flourish had been shaped. It is time to move forward and to think about how Lactantius’ argument compares to those of his Latin Christian predecessors and contemporaries, as well as to Lactantius’ own arguments in his other works. We shall begin with a discussion of divine anger in the Latin apologists Minucius Felix, Arnobius, and Tertullian. 404 From there, we shall examine the claims of the apologist Cyprian, whose work was known to and admired by Lactantius. Finally, a look at Lactantius’ passages on divine anger in his Divinae Institutiones and De Mortibus Persecutorum will show how he construed the issue within the context of his broader theological project. This examination of Latin Christian apologetic ideas about God’s wrath further emphasizes the kinds of problems brought to the fore by both the Old Testament texts and certain voices among the Greek philosophical and theological traditions, as well as the ways in which they could be addressed. Although Lactantius was not the only Latin Christian intellectual to make the case for God’s wrath, he was the only one whom we know to have devoted a treatise to the subject and in doing to have fashioned an argument intended to appeal to a traditionally pagan audience. 150 404 By limiting the material under discussion to the Latin apologists, we remain closer to Lactantius’ own perspective. When possible, I will include in the footnotes material that can contrast with, complement, or otherwise inform our understanding of the point under discussion, but any further consideration of the other ecclesiastical sources is the work of an additional project. A list of Greek and Latin apologists who deal with the question is given by C. Ingremeau, Lactance: La Colère de Dieu. Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf 1982, 18. Of those contemporaries whom Lactantius acknowledges, Minucius Felix is the first to be mentioned. In the Divinae Institutiones, Lactantius writes that Minucius was ‘of not ignoble rank among pleaders,’ and that in his book the Octavius, the apologist shows how ‘suitable a maintainer of the truth he might have been, if he had given himself altogether to that pursuit.’ 405 Minucius probably wrote before Tertullian and was also probably African; the Octavius, the only text of his that we know, is in its most basic form an early example of Christian apologetic. 406 In a self-conscious imitation of Cicero’s De Natura Deorum, Octavius establishes the setting as a conversation between two characters, Caecilius (the pagan) and Octavius (the Christian). 407 The text is not so much a dialogue as two separate monologues: Caecilius inquires about and criticizes the Christians, then Octavius returns with a defense 151 405 Divinae Institutiones (hereafter DI) 5.1.21: Ex iis, qui mihi noti sunt, Minucius Felix non ignobilis inter causidicos locifuit. Huius liber, cui Octavio titulus est, declarat, quam idoneus veritatis assertor esse potuisset, si se totum ad id studium contulisset. All translations from the Divinae Institutiones are those by A. Bowen and P . Garnsey, Lactantius: Divine Institutes. Liverpool University Press, 2003. The Latin is quoted from the PLL. Lactantius and Jerome are the only two sources who identify Minucius as a lawyer but there is little reason to doubt this. 406 There is some debate over the question of dating Minucius Felix and Tertullian. Numerous parallels in the language of each has made for arguments over whether one freely borrowed from the other in writing his treatise. But as Simon Price writes, ‘The problem with attempts to date the works on purely internal grounds is that the two treatises have such different arguments that ‘parallels cannot establish the priority of either author’.’ (‘Latin Christian Apologetics’ in M. Edwards, M. Goodman, and S. Price (eds.) Apologetics in the Roman Empire: Pagans, Jews, and Christians. Oxford University Press, 1999, 112. Price dates Minucius to the second century on the basis of a reference to a passage in which Fronto discusses Christians, the date for which was the late 170s. Tertullian is given a later date, at ‘the turn of the second and third centuries’ (107). Price also has much to say about the nature of apologetic, and argues (rightly, I think) that in its early stages, it did not constitute its own genre but rather that there existed ‘generic similarities in the position of Christians during this period, though this varied significantly from time to time and place to place, and that these similarities led to a set of overlapping responses to the non-Christian world’ (113-114). 407 This imitation of De Natura Deorum is somewhat different from the kind of imitation that Lactantius effects, but not altogether so - Minucius’ imitation is more obvious through its adoption of the dialogue format, but both theologians call upon the content of the debates entertained in the Ciceronian text. Minucius also inserts himself into the conversation, sitting in the middle between the two other characters. For an account of the Ciceronian dialogues that Minucius might have had in mind beyond De Natura Deorum, see J. Powell, ‘Unfair to Caecilius? Cieronian Dialogue Techniques in Minucius Felix,’ in S. Swain, S. Harrison, and J. Elsner (eds.) Severan Culture. Cambridge University Press, 2007, 177-189. One facet of Powell’s argument is that the dialogue is ‘fixed’ in such a way as to prevent the pagan Caecilius from ever even having a chance to refute Octavius’ claims. and refutation of the new faith. Although this is a later text relative to many of those in the Greek apologetic tradition, it is relatively early in Latin apologetic; many of the themes that we find in the text are repeated elsewhere throughout the continuation and development of the genre among those writing in Latin. 408 One of Octavius’ principle arguments against paganism is that in both mythology and cult worship, the gods of Greek and Roman religion are represented as behaving in embarrassing and compromising ways. 409 He recounts, for example, the tales of Isis and Osiris, of Demeter and Persephone, the descriptions of Apollo, Vulcan, Aesculapius and Minerva, and the Homeric accounts of the gods’ involvement in the Trojan war. In addition to the stories themselves, evidence enough that the gods and goddesses are depicted as having ‘contemptible and disgraceful characters,’ Octavius cites the opinions given by the Stoics, Euhemerus, and Prodicus. He focuses on Euhemerus as the source for the commonly held belief that the divinities in question were men who became gods. 410 They had birthdays and graves and were ultimately deified because they had contributed something exceptional to humankind, but were not unborn and thus could not be immortal gods. That these stories and fables get told and retold is reprehensible to Octavius; in an argument reminiscent of Socrates’ in Republic 2, Octavius maintains that one’s parents are to 152 408 For a concise overview of the predecessors, Greek, Christian and philosophical, see Price op. cit. n. 406, pages 114-120. His comments on the perception of Christianity as another school of philosophy are particularly relevant to our discussion. 409 This forms a good chunk of Octavius’ rebuttal, and see especially Octavius 20-24. 410 Many Latin Christians are fond of turning to Euhemerus to show that the gods of mythology are created in the physical, material sense as well as in the imaginative sense, that is by humans’ deification of extraordinary mortals. Lactantius takes up this opinion when he attacks the philosophers at length in the Divinae Institutiones; he directly references Euhemerus at 1.11.33, 65, 13.14, and 22.27 but likely would have gotten his information through Ennius. blame for passing on such accounts, one’s education to blame for involving their study and examination, and the poets to blame for having written them in the first place. 411 The fundamental problem is that the gods are depicted in vicious ways and that these depictions inform and could even suggest the approval of vicious behavior among humans. This and the arguments that follow are used to establish a difference between the pagan gods and the true Christian God, who is removed from all earthly things, unborn, and holds supreme power. Interestingly, Minucius refrains from giving too much space to a consideration of representations of the Judeo-Christian God. 412 This omission releases him from the obligation of having to explain or defend such representations in light of his criticisms of their parallels in Greco-Roman mythology and Roman religious practice. Although Octavius does discuss the punishment that awaits all humankind at the end of the world, he does not relate this notion to anything like divine wrath or retribution, but rather as simple fact. 413 Our second apologist is also someone with whom Lactantius was familiar, and in fact knew personally: Arnobius of Sicca, Lactantius’ teacher in rhetoric and fellow North 153 411 Minucius has Octavius cite Plato here, writing that Plato ‘rightly expelled from the state which he had founded in his discourse, the illustrious Homer whom he had praised and crowned,’ 22. (Has fabulas et errores et ab imperitis parentibus discimus, et, quod est gravius, ipsis studiis et disciplinis elaboramus, carminibus praecipue poetarum, qui plurimum quantum veritati ipsi sua auctoritate nocuere. Et Plato ideo praeclare Homerum illum inclytum, laudatum et coronatum, de civitate quam in sermone instituebat, eiecit.) 412 The lack of information about the Christian God has not gone unnoticed by commentators, nor has the complete avoidance of any discussion of Jesus Christ. As Powell (following others) has argued, Minucius has Caecilius convert on the basis of only three terms, none of which were incompatible with similar but traditionally philosophical claims: ‘he accepts a belief in one God and in divine providence which is scarcely distinguishable from the philosophical monotheism of a Platonist or Stoic; and he accepts the sinceritas sectae, i.e. that Christians are a benevolent brotherhood and are not guilty of the enormities attributed to them by their opponents.’ (op. cit. n.407, p. 187.) 413 See especially chapter 35, where punishment is seen as an obvious end for the unrighteous and impious (and pardon is likewise the reward for the good and pious): Eos autem merito torqueri qui Deum nesciunt, ut impios, ut iniustos, nisi profanus, nemo deliberat, cum Parentem omnium et omnium Dominum non minoris sceleris sit ignorare quam laedere. Et quamquam imperitia Dei sufficiat ad poenam, ita ut notitia prosit ad veniam, tamen, si vobiscum Christiani comparemur, quamvis in nonnullis disciplina nostra minor est, multo tamen vobis meliores deprehendemur. Although the model for justice has parallels in other apologetic texts, anger has no place in the schema that Minucius creates. African. Despite their relationship as teacher and student Lactantius shows no awareness of Arnobius’ conversion to Christianity and never mentions him in any of his writings. 414 Arnobius was also a later convert; the one text of his that we possess is a defense of Christianity that was written, according to Jerome, as a means by which to prove to the bishop that his conversion was genuine. 415 The text was written sometime between 303 and 305, following the outbreak of the Diocletianic persecution, and takes as its target the pagan claim that the Christians have incited the wrath of the pagan deities. Insofar as the work touches upon themes common to the genre of apologetic, Adversus Nationes is a typical example of that genre; Arnobius, however, does maintain certain views which differed, to varying degree, from those of the mainstream. 416 That the pagan gods are angry and that this is a theosophically problematic idea are two recurring arguments of Adversus Nationes. Arnobius’ position has two approaches: the first is to turn the charge back on his opponents and to say that the gods are angry with them (and not the Christians); the second is to argue that anger is incompatible with the divine nature. The first contention is one of those most frequently found in apologetic and is stated most concisely in the third book. Here Arnobius refutes the charge by claiming that if in fact the gods are angry as the pagans allege, then surely they must be angry at the 154 414 For one account of the relationship between Arnobius and Lactantius, see E.F. Micka, The Problem of Divine Anger in Arnobius and Lactantius. Catholic University of America Studies in Christian Antiquity 4. Washington, D.C., 1943, 145-147. 415 Jerome’s mention of the reason behind the composition of Adversus Nationes is given only in the Chronicon (in the year of the 276th Olympiad, which is to say 327 CE - a decidedly later date than Jerome elsewhere attributes to him). It is in De Viris Illustriis 79 that Jerome includes the information about Arnobius having been Lactantius’ teacher of rhetoric, and here that Jerome gives the title of the work as Adversus Gentes, although our earliest manuscript titles the work Adversus Nationes. 416 On Arnobius, his background, and his apologetic project, see M. B. Simmons, Arnobius of Sicca: Religious Conflict and Competition in the Age of Diocletian. Oxford University Press, 1995; see pages 6-21 thereof for discussion of the ancient testimony on Arnobius. pagans themselves, since they gave them human attributes which the gods must find despicable and insulting. 417 Both the stories and the ceremonies that commemorate the gods are shameful and disgraceful; in an interesting twist, Arnobius finds that the pagans’ worship of their gods is the cause for anger. Unlike Lactantius, who sees God’s wrath as the consequence for those who have neglected him, Arnobius finds the fault in the worship of pagan deities - and the Christians’ exemption from blame in the fact that they do not worship them. It is not that the Christians do not worship the pagan deities but that the pagans do, with stories and rituals so absurd that they should incite the gods’ wrath. The second contention, that anger is unsuitable to a divinity, is the argument with which Arnobius opens his text. 418 In a series of chapters in the first book, he picks apart the idea of the gods’ wrath from a philosophical perspective. He begins with the challenge that divine anger, as expressed by his accusers, is something that comes and goes and that because of this we are meant to understand that the gods can hold onto or forget about the 155 417 Adversus Nationes (hereafter AN) 3.11.1, 3: Et audetis adscribere causam nobis offensionis deorum, cum, si iudicatio fiat, certissima in vobis repperiatur haec esse et in contumelia <alia> quam opinamini stare? Nam si dii, ut dicitis, adficiuntur ira et animorum indignationibus incalescunt. cur eos non putemus aegre atque aegerrime sustinere, dari sibi a vobis sexus, quibus canes porcique formati sunt, et cum ita cíedatis, non aliter se fingi et ignominiosa cum ostentatione proponi? ... Nam nobis quidem cur irascantur non habent, quos vident et sentiunt neque se colere neque deridere, quod dicitur, et honestius quam vos multo de sui nominis dignitate existimare, quam credere. We might compare this passage to 4.37.4, where Arnobius makes argues that the pagans miss the point that the god(s) cannot be moved by emotions and thus cannot get angry: Quod si datur, et illud necessario consequens, miserias has omnis quibus olim genus accumulatur humanum ab huiusmodi fluere fictionibus. quodsi ab his causis indignatio proficiscitur numinum, miseriarum tantarum vos estis auctores, qui animos eaelitum non cessatis offendere et ultionis in rabiem coneitare. Sin autem huiusmodi furiis deorum est genus immune neque quid sit irasci dii omnino noverunt, et nobis ergo irasci sine ulla ratione dicuntur, qui ira quid sit ignorant et ab eius comptu et permixtione sunt absoluti. 418 Arnobius’ position on divine wrath is just one part of his larger problem with anthropomorphic depictions of divinities. As M. Colish succinctly states, ‘for Arnobius God’s impassibility is a function of His transcendence an an index of His superiority to the emotional, capricious, and anthropomorphically conceived gods of the pagans.’ The Stoic Tradition from Antiquity to the Early Middle Ages, volume 2: Stoicism in Christian Latin Thought through the Sixth Century. Leiden: Brill, 1990, 37. causes for anger at their whim. 419 Arnobius does not push the issue here, but one implication is that it does not matter if someone has enraged the gods, since they can choose whether or not to react, and that there is no way to determine what the gods are reacting to at any given moment. From there he goes on to attack the ‘worshippers and priests’ of these gods for attributing anger to the divinities in the first place. Anger is a ‘base feeling,’ an ‘unseemly frenzy,’ to be angry is ‘to be insane, to rave, to be urged to the lust of vengeance, and to revel in the troubles of another’s grief through the madness of a savage disposition.’ 420 In a way similar to that in which Lactantius characterizes the Stoic and Epicurean opinions of anger, Arnobius finds anger inherently unsuitable to the superior nature of the divine. Nor does Arnobius stop there. A key difference between the formulations of anger made by Arnobius and Lactantius is that Arnobius maintains the very understanding of anger that Lactantius seeks to avoid in De ira Dei. Lactantius might argue that the anger of which Arnobius writes is unjust anger and therefore not that which should be attributed to divinity. Yet Arnobius’ disavowal of anger runs on, and finds its peak in his description of it as an emotion and its intrinsic effects: 156 419 AN 1.15.1-3: Sed fuerunt aliquando nonnulla in necessitatibus tempora: et relaxata sunt abundantiis rursus; contra voluntatem quaedam bella administrata: et victoriis postmodum successibusque correcta. Quid ergo? dicemus iniuriarum nostrarum deos modo memores esse modo esse rursus immemores? Si quo tempore fames est, irati esse dicuntur, sequitur ut abundantiae tempore irati et difficiles non sint; atque ita perducitur res eo ut vicibus ludicris et ponant et repetant iras et in integrum se semper offensionum <omissa> recordatione restituant. 420 AN 1.17.1-5, selections: Et tamen, o magni cultores atque antistites numinum, cur irasci populis Christianis augustissimos illos adseveratis deos? Ita non advertitis, non videtis, adfectus quam turpes, quam indecoras numinibus attribuatis insanias? Quid est enim aliud irasci quam insanire, quam furere, quam in ultionis libidinem ferri et in alterius doloris cruces efferati pectoris alienatione bacchari? Hoc ergo dii magni norunt, perpetiuntur et sentiunt quod ferae, quod beluae, quod mortiferae continent venenato in dente natrices. Quod levitatis in homine, quod terreno in animante culpabile est, praestans illa natura et in perpetuae virtutis firmitate consistens scire adseveratur a vobis: - et quid ergo sequitur necessario, nisi ut ex eorum luminibus scintillae emicent flammeae, aestuet anhelum pectus, spuma iactetur ex ore et ex verbis ardentibus labrorum siccitas inalbescat? The description is reminiscent of Seneca’s description of anger at De Ira 1.1.2-4, preserved in part by Lactantius at De ira Dei 5.3. But if this that you say is true,—if it has been tested and thoroughly ascertained both that the gods boil with rage, and that an impulse of this kind agitates the divinities with excitement, on the one hand they are not immortal, and on the other they are not to be reckoned as at all partaking of divinity. For wherever, as the philosophers hold, there is any agitation, there of necessity passion must exist. Where passion is situated, it is reasonable that mental excitement follow. Where there is mental excitement, there grief and sorrow exist. Where grief and sorrow exist, there is already room for weakening and decay; and if these two harass them, extinction is at hand, viz., death, which ends all things, and takes away life from every sentient being. 421 This nearly perfectly represents the opinion of the philosophical tradition as it was embraced by many Christian theologians. 422 We have in very concise form a summation of the problem: anger is an emotion, or here perturbatio, that agitates; if one believes it to have this effect on a divinity, one must also believe that some mental change takes place, which leaves that being open to even ‘worse’ emotions and above all, to change, and explicitly change for the worse. Whatever changes for the worse is susceptible to death, and by virtue of that very fact cannot be immortal. 423 All throughout this attack we are meant to be thinking of the Christian God as an antithesis to the pagans’ incorrect ideas about divinity. Those who are true gods, Arnobius argues, have neither anger nor even hold a grudge and they certainly do nothing to harm or 157 421 AN 1.18.1-2: Quod si verum est istud et est exploratum et cognitum, ecfervescere deos ira et huiusmodi motu, perturbatione iactari, immortales et perpetui non sunt nec in divinitatis alicuius existimatione ponendi. 2. Ubi enim est ullus, sicut sapientibus videtur, adfectus, ibi esse necesse est passionem; ubi passio sita est, perturbationem consentaneum est consequi; ubi perturbatio est, ibi dolor et aegritudo est; ubi dolor et aegritudo est, imminutioni et corruptioni iam locus est; quae duo si vexant, adest vicinus interitus, mors omnia finiens et cunctis adimens sentientibus vitam. All translations of this text are from H. Bryce and H. Campell, Anti-Nicene Fathers. Volume 6. Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co, 1886. 422 Or at least by those Christians who focused on the affinities between Christian theology and the Greek philosophical tradition. For some, like Minucius, this could come in the form of establishing baseline similarities on which everyone could agree; for others, like Arnobius, this meant using pagan philosophical ideas to attack pagan cult and religion. 423 Again the arguments of Socrates in Republic 2 are used, however implicitly, in Christian criticism of pagans. Arnobius’ use of the term pertubatio further reveals his conception of emotions; it is precisely this understanding of anger (as a commotio or perturbatio) against which Lactantius argues in ID 5.2. injure anyone or anything. 424 Arnobius’ self-conscious alignment of his position with the beliefs characteristic of the philosophical tradition is somewhat problematic. On the one hand, he is content to invoke that tradition’s ideas about the divine nature and attributes; on the other hand, his preoccupation with refuting his opponents prevents him from addressing the problem of the angry God of Christianity. 425 His contentions in Adversus Nationes give us a limited perspective. While they provide some sense of how other Christians addressed the question of angry divinities they do not help us elucidate how Arnobius would have approached the issues of representations of an angry Christian God. Arnobius’ decision to avoid discussion of the Judeo-Christian God’s emotions stands in contrast to Novatian’s concern with the issue in the opening chapters of his treatise De Trinitate. 426 Novatian was active in the third century as a Roman priest and as one of two competing popes, later reckoned an antipope. The story of his conversion hints at some of the theological debates in which he would later engage: it holds that Novatian was baptized by affusion and soon became a priest. 427 During the Decian persecution and the controversy over the lapsi, he had himself consecrated as (anti)pope despite the fact that Cornelius had 158 424 AN 1.23.1: Ceterum dii veri et qui habere, qui ferre nominis huius auctoritatem condigni sunt, neque irascuntur neque indignantur neque quod alteri noceat insidiosis machinationibus construunt. 425 ‘Prevents him’ from doing so is perhaps too polite, it is more likely that Arnobius consciously omitted any discussion of the relevance of this problem to his own religion and its foundational texts. Unless he were to enter into a hermeneutic discussion, this was a topic that had to be glossed in the treatise, at least when it could arise in close proximity to a discussion of the faults of pagan religious practice. 426 We do not know the original title of the treatise, though it has been suggested that it would have been De Regula Veritatis or De Regula Fidei, based on the opening lines of the text. 427 The main problem is that Novatian is said to have been baptized by affusion, which is to say that water was sprinkled over his head, as opposed to by immersion in ‘living’ water like a river or stream. Affusion was a method of baptism that was at that point contested and mostly reserved for martyrs or those who were not able to be immersed in water and could prevent one from taking on a clerical role. Novatian’s baptism in this fashion, his entry into the priesthood, declaration of himself as (anti)pope, and harsh views on the lapsi all made him an easy target for criticism by his contemporaries and later scholars and theologians. been elected to the office. 428 The effect that Novatian’s baptism had on the legitimacy of his ordination and his adamant refusal to let the lapsi return are representative of both an individual concern with matters of doctrine and to a broader concern among the Christian community over what to do with those who had forsaken their faith during the persecution. As such they are indicative of the extent to which matters of policy and dogma were constantly in flux and negotiation. De Trinitate has two distinct sections. In the first and shorter piece, Novatian catalogues those facets of the divine nature that make God transcendent; in the second part of the text, he discusses the divinity of Jesus Christ. The first portion is the most relevant to our consideration of God’s wrath, for in it Novatian takes up the topics of how to speak about God and how to understand what one hears or reads about him. Much of what Novatian says will by this point be familiar, for example, that God pervades the world, moves, gives life to all and observes all things. 429 In Novatian’s framework, God is entirely good and therefore cannot be the source of evils, and while he acknowledges God as the ‘judge and avenger of evils,’ unlike Lactantius, Novatian maintains that because he fulfills these roles, God cannot also be the source of the deeds that he avenges. 430 159 428 See R. DeSimone’s reconstruction of Novatian’s biography in his translation of De Trinitate in Fathers of the Church Volume 67. Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1972, 1-12. 429 On these, and other characteristics meant to prove God’s superiority, see the opening eight chapters but especially chapter two. 430 De Trinitate (hereafter T) 4.1-3: Quem solum merito bonum pronuntiat Dominus cuius bonitatis totus testis est mundus, quem non instituisset, nisi bonus fuisset. Nam si omnia bona valde consequenter ac merito et quae instituta sunt bona, bonum institutorem probaverunt: et quae a bono institutore sunt, aliud quam bona esse non possunt: ex quo omne malum facessat a Deo. Nec enim potest fieri, ut sit initiator aut artifex ullius mali operis, qui nomen sibi perfecti vindicat et parentis et iudicis: maxime quum omnis mali operis vindex sit et iudex; quoniam et non aliunde occurrit homini malum, nisi a bono Deo recessisset. Hoc autem ipsum in homine denotatur: non quia necesse fuit, sed quia ipse sic voluit. Unde manifeste et quid malum esset apparuit, et, ne invidia in Deo esse videretur, a quo malum ortum esset, eluxit. Novatian makes an argument about divine anger not entirely unlike the one that Lactantius fashions in De ira Dei. When we come upon descriptions of God’s wrath, he writes, we should not understand this to be the same as a human vice, for this corrupts. God, because he cannot be corrupted, cannot be said to have this emotion or those similar to it like hatred and indignation. 431 He continues: The fact also that God is angry does not arise from any vice in Him; rather He acts thus for our benefit. He is merciful even when He threatens, because by these threats men are recalled to the right path. Fear is necessary for those who lack an incentive to good living, so that they who have rejected reason may at least be moved by terror. And so all these instances of anger, hatred, and the like, on God’s part, are revealed, as the truth of the matter shows, for our healing and arise from deliberate purpose, neither from vice nor from weakness. Therefore they do not have the power to corrupt God. 432 For Novatian, anger on the human scale is a vice, but in God it is something else; God is still angry, but when he is it is for our advantage, since it ‘calls men to rectitude.’ Like Lactantius again, Novatian finds fear to be a motivating factor, arguing that it is our fear of God’s threats and anger that drives us to lead a virtuous life. The anger that arises from vice in humans arises instead from wisdom in God and from reason; in addition to this it does not corrupt God since he has no matter or substance upon which anger can have an effect. 433 160 431 T 5.1-2: Cuius etiam si iracundias legimus, et indignationes quasdam descriptas tenemus, et odia relata cognoscimus, non tamen haec intelligimus ad humanorum relata esse exempla vitiorum. Haec enim omnia, et si hominem possunt corrumpere, divinam vim non possunt omnino vitiare. Passiones enim istae in hominibus merito esse dicentur; in Deo non merito iudicabuntur. Corrumpi enim per haec homo potest, quia corrumpi potest: corrumpi per haec Deus non potest, quia nec corrumpi potest. 432 T 5.4-5: Nam et quod irascitur Deus, non ex vitio eius venit; sed ad remedium nostri illud facit. Indulgens est enim, etiam tunc cum minatur: dum per haec homines ad recta revocantur. Nam quibus ad honestam vitam deest ratio, metus est necessarius, ut qui rationem reliquerunt, vel terrore moveantur. Et ideo omnes istae vel iracundiae Dei, vel odia, vel quaecumque sunt huiusmodi, dum ad medicinam nostram proferuntur (ut res docet), ex consilio, non ex vitio venerunt: nec ex fragilitate descendunt; propter quod etiam ad corrumpendum Deum valere non possunt. Translation from DeSimone, op. cit. n.428. 433 T 5.3: Habent igitur ista vim suam quam exerceant; sed ubi praecedit passibilis materia, non ubi praecedit impassibilis substantia. Here, ‘materia’ clearly seems to mean something physical and God’s incorporeality is at issue. Novatian’s comments about divine anger should be kept in their context: a discussion of the language used to describe God. Although scripture often ascribes a human form to God, writes Novatian, we ought not to ‘confine the measure or form of the divine majesty within these outlines of our own bodily frame.’ 434 In making this argument, Novatian draws a line between the Old and New Testaments: while the former was written in such a way as to make sense to the ‘faith of the times,’ the more recent writings allow for an evolved understanding of God’s power and identification as spirit. 435 He continues to argue that when the parts of the body are used to describe God, what we should be able to understand is that a specific part or attribute is used to refer to something else. For example, if one reads of God’s eye, what it really means it that God sees all things, if his ear, that he hears all things, and so on. The language that is used to describe God is human and should be ascribed to humans who, because they lacked the capacity to conceive of God any differently, resorted to anthropomorphic language to express their ideas about God. 436 A little bit later, Novatian relates this to the way that one reads, holding that such expressions are ‘used figuratively, rather than literally. For in the Old Testament, God is called fire to 161 434 T 6.1-3, throughout which Novatian quotes lines from the Bible about the various physical features attributed to God as examples of human form being given to the divine. 435 T 6.2-3. Novatian draws a distinction between the prophets, who had to speak about God in parables so that the people could understand, and those of the present age, who ‘know the meaning of holy scripture from the unfolding of the divine dispensation.’ His comments here point again to the tensions characteristic of the Christian inheritance of the Old Testament. 436 T 6.2: Parabolis enim adhuc, secundum fidei tempus, de Deo Prophetes tunc loquebatur, non quomodo Deus erat, sed quomodo populus capere poterat. Ut igitur haec sic de Deo dicantur, non Deo, sed populo potius imputetur. The argument is reminiscent of those made by both Paul and Philo, who admit to speaking ‘in human terms’ (in the case of the former) and in the need for anthropomorphic and anthropopathic language as educational tools (in the case of the latter). strike fear in the hearts of a sinful people by appearing as their judge; whereas in the New Testament, he is revealed as spirit.’ 437 Novatian’s thoughts on figural and literal interpretation are carefully placed so as to support his assertion of God’s immateriality. Divine anger in this formulation is something that represents a part of God’s nature and as such is essential to God’s role as the judge of human affairs. Novatian occupies a midway point between those who, like Arnobius, seek to uphold the claims of impassibility that were maintained by individuals within the philosophical tradition (even if he ignores their application in Christianity) and those who, like Lactantius, seek to find an explanation for divine anger that is based on the representations of God found in the books of the Old Testament. In addition, Novatian’s project in De Trinitate is closer to Lactantius’ in De ira Dei. Both writers hoped to make a theological contribution to ongoing debates which were of critical important to an individual Christian community or to a group of Christian communities. Minucius’ and Arnobius’ ambitions were distinctly different. Adversus Nationes was a text written in defense not only of the legitimacy of Arnobius’ own faith, but also as a defense of that faith to its critics and detractors. Much of what Minucius Felix and Arnobius wrote was conditioned by the attacks and accusations that were made against them; if the charge was that the Christians were inflaming the pagan deities’ anger, then their response had to reveal weaknesses in that assault. These were not the only possibilities available to those engaged in apologetic work. Although the kinds of almost formulaic responses developed by Minucius and Arnobius in 162 437 T 7.5: Sed haec figurantur potius quam ita sunt. Nam et in Veteri Testamento ideo Deus Ignis dicitur, ut peccatori populo metus incutiatur, dum iudex ostenditur. Et in Novo Testamento Spiritus esse profertur, ut refector et creator in delictis suis mortuorum, per hanc bonitatem collatae credentibus indulgentiae, comprobetur. defense of Christianity were also adopted by Tertullian in his Apologeticum, this apologist deviated from their strategies in a significant way. Tertullian was another Christian Latin writer from North Africa and author of thirty-one extant works. 438 All of these treatises seem to have arisen from a local or immediate situation; they are reactions to circumstances rather than indicative of any systematic theology like that which we see in Novatian. More so than Novatian, however, Tertullian’s was a voice of Latin apologetic that was both accessible and familiar to Lactantius. In addition to his comment about Minucius Felix, Lactantius in the Divinae Institutiones tells us that Tertullian was ‘skilled in literature of every kind; but in eloquence he had little readiness, and was not sufficiently polished, and very obscure.’ 439 Be that as it may, Tertullian’s view of divine anger has parallels in Lactantius‘ arguments. The Apologeticum, the first text of Tertullian’s that we shall consider, was written in 197 and directed to the provincial governors. In it he takes up two issues: an exploration and rebuttal of the crimes of which the Christians have been charged, and an examination of the charges of treason and violation of the state religion. One strand of Tertullian’s refutation of the pagans addresses the charge that the Christians are to blame for all calamities. Like his peers, Tertullian appeals to the commonsense notion that bad things have always happened, certainly before there even were Christians, and that thus the Christians cannot be responsible for current misfortunes. 163 438 For a discussion of the ancient evidence and chronology of Tertullian’s life and career, see T. Barnes, Tertullian: A Historical and Literary Study. Oxford University Press, 1971, 3-56; for an especially swift overview see pages 57-59, where Barnes argues that 170 could easily be the year of Tertullian’s birth. In her consideration of the North African Christian writers whose theologies contributed to the varying doctrines at play in the Donatist schism, Maureen Tilley devotes space to Tertullian, noting that ‘Both [his] rhetorical and religious training inform his approach to the Bible and set standards to which later North African Christians adhered in their use of Scripture.’ and attributes his avoidance of allegory to the threat that Valentinian hermeneutics (in this mind) posed to proto-orthodox Christianity: The Bible in Christian North Africa: the Donatist World. Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fortress Press, 1997, 20-28 at 21 and 26. 439 DI 5.1.23: Septimius quoque Tertullianus fuit omni genere litterarum peritus: sed in eloquendo parum facilis, et minus comptus, et multum obscurus fuit. Ergo ne hic quidem satis celebritatis invenit. Drawing upon his characteristic sarcasm, he turns the question around and asks his opponents where their gods were when such evils happened in the past and why they did not come to their rescue. 440 So far this is representative of the kinds of arguments that are often made, but soon Tertullian moves into less common territory by asserting that it is not the pagan deities who are enraged, but rather the Christian God, and that he has good reason for being so inflamed. Had the pagans recognized and obeyed the supreme God, they would have found him gracious rather than angry, and if at any time God is not angry it is only because the Christians have propitiated him on the behalf of the rest of mankind - although Jupiter mistakenly gets the credit. 441 Tertullian repeats the claim: the pagans ‘ought to see that the very same God is angry with them now as in ancient times, before Christians were so much as spoken of...they suffer at the hands of him to whom they have been ungrateful.’ 442 Like Lactantius, Tertullian identifies God as the giver of things both good and evil, and like Novatian, he discusses the importance of the fear of God and its relationship to his anger. In addition, he puts present suffering in the greater context of eternity: God’s judgment is both immediate and everlasting, and those Christians who suffer in the moment as a result of pagan hostilities must bear in mind the hope of eternal life. Throughout these two chapters, divine anger is 164 440 Apologeticum (hereafter A) 40, passim, but condensed here at 40.5: Ubi vero tunc, non dicam deorum vestrorum contemptores christiani, sed ipsi dii vestri, cum totum orbem cataclysmus abolevit, vel ut Plato putavit, campestre solummodo? 441 A 40.10-11: Semper humana gens male de Deo meruit: primo quidem ut inofficiosa eius, quem cum intelligeret ex parte, non solum non requisivit timendum, sed et alios sibi citius commenta est quos coleret; dehinc quod non inquirendo innocentiae magistrum, et nocentiae iudicem et exactorem, omnibus vitiis et criminibus inolevit. Caeterum si requisisset, (sequeretur, ut) cognosceret et recognosceret requisitum, et recognitum observaret, et observatum magis propitium experiretur quam iratum. 442 A 40.12-13: Eumdem ergo nunc quoque scire debet iratum, quem et retro semper, priusquam Christiani nominarentur. Cuius bonis utebatur ante editis, quam deos sibi fingeret, cur non ab eo etiam mala intelligit evenire, cuius bona esse non sensit? Illius rea est, cuius et ingrata. Et tamen si pristinas clades comparemus, leviora nunc accidunt, ex quo christianos a Deo orbis accepit. Ex eo enim et innocentia seculi iniquitates temperavit, et deprecatores Dei coeperunt. treated as something real and valid; at no point does Tertullian question the attribution of wrath or even the valuation (i.e. as vice or virtue) of the emotion itself. There is no hint of the discrepancy between this view and that of the Greek philosophical tradition. 443 In De Testimonio Animae, which acts as a kind of appendix to the Apologeticum, Tertullian gives further proof for Christianity by using the soul as his witness. His arguments include a discussion of God’s existence and his power. Tertullian takes on those who deny that God is ‘Searcher, Ruler, and Judge,’ and who especially disdain Christians who convert or worship God partly out of the fear of his judgment. 444 Here he brings up the philosophical opinions only to refute them. He acknowledges that there are some who think that God’s anger would mean that he is ‘susceptible to corruption and passion; but that of which passion and corruption can be affirmed may also perish, which God cannot do.’ 445 But the soul itself, says Tertullian, knows its giver and because it knows him cannot fail to know that God should be feared; and moreover, one cannot fear God if one does not either want to gain his favor or avoid his wrath. Tertullian argues that fear comes from anger and anger from the fact that God watches us. God’s observation of our wrongdoing necessarily leads to his judgment of us, the force of which comes from his supreme power and 165 443 Tertullian’s avoidance of any discussion of philosophy is somewhat surprising given that the text is addressed to individuals who would have been part of the cultured, educated elite, and serves as another example of the differences that existed in early Latin apologetic. Yet in De Testimonio Animae, which is meant to be a companion-piece of sorts to the Apologeticum, and geared toward the laity, Tertullian takes up the philosophical challenge presented by conceptions of a God who is angry and the ultimate judge. On Tertullian’s address of the provincial governors as members of the cultured elite and the implications thereof, see C. Moreschini, ‘L’intellettuale cristiano e l’impero da Tertulliano a Costantino,’ in R. Uglione (ed.) Atti del Convegno Nazionale di Studi Intellettulai e Potere nel Mondo Antico, Torino, 22-24 Aprile 2002. Torino: Associazione Italiana da Cultura Classica, 2003, 249-252. 444 De Testimonio Animae 2: Sunt qui etsi deum non negent, dispectorem plane et arbitrum et iudicem non putent -- in quo utique nos maxime reiciunt, qui ad istam disciplinam metu praedicati iudicii transvolamus -- sic deum honorantes, dum curis observationis et molestiis animadversionis absolvunt, cui ne iram quidem adscribunt. 445 De Testimonio Animae 2: Nam si deus, inquiunt, irascitur, corruptibilis et passionalis est: porro quod patitur quodque corrumpitur, etiam interitum potest capere, quem deus non capit. authority. 446 This series of assertions takes Tertullian back to his original point that the soul knows God and recognizes him as the most powerful being in the universe. It further establishes Tertullian’s viewpoint as one that endorses a belief in the necessity of divine anger. Although he is clearly aware of the philosophical arguments to the contrary, Tertullian invokes a moral, or practical-moral perspective, much as Lactantius does and as Novatian does with qualification. Beyond those apologists whom we have so far considered, however, one other individual was especially esteemed by Lactantius, and his ideas were most clearly relevant to Lactantius’ discussion of divine anger: Cyprian. Cyprian is the third apologist whom Lactantius acknowledges as a predecessor, praising him as follows: ...he also wrote a great deal worth admiring for itself. He had an easy talent, a sweet flow of words, and (the greatest of virtues in exposition) he was clear; you could not tell with him whether elegance of language, success in explanation or power of persuasion came first. 447 Lactantius’ flattering description of Cyprian might reveal more about his own preferences than it does about Cyprian and his writing, but it establishes Cyprian as a literary, stylistic, and theological model for our author. It should thus come as no surprise that of all of the 166 446 In this, Tertullian’s argument is close to one of those that Lactantius adopts in De ira Dei, namely that the individual vested with power cannot bear to see those below him commit an offense without being moved to judge and correct their actions. But for Tertullian, the entire link is based on the belief that the soul is something from the divine, De Testimonio Animae 2: At idem alibi animam divinam et a deo conlatam confitentes cadunt in testimonium ipsius animae retorquendum adversus opinionem superiorem. Si enim anima aut divina aut a deo data est, sine dubio datorem suum novit, et si novit, utique et timet et tantum postremo adauctorem. An non timet quem magis propitium velit quam iratum? Unde igitur naturalis timor animae in deum, si deus non novit irasci? Quomodo timebitur, qui nescit offendi? Quid timetur nisi ira? Unde ira nisi ex animadversione? Unde animadversio nisi de iudicio? Unde iudicium nisi de potestate? Cuius potestas summa, nisi dei solius? 447 DI 5.1.24-25: admodum multa conscripsit in suo genere miranda. Erat enim ingenio facili, copioso, suavi, et (quae sermonis maxima est virtus) aperto, ut discernere nequeas, utrumne ornatior in eloquendo, an felicior in explicando, an potentior in persuadendo fuerit. Despite this praise for his rhetorical greatness, Lactantius’ estimation of the relevance of Cyprian’s corpus is critical of the prominence of scriptural texts and Cyprian’s lack of appeal to those ‘who do not know God’s sacred mystery,’ 5.1.26. See also Lactantius’ assessments of Tertullian and Cyprian at 5.4.3-7 with discussion below. Latin apologists, Cyprian is the greatest advocate of divine wrath. As a third-century bishop of Carthage and later martyr, Cyprian also fits in well with our general impression of those Latin Christians of whom Lactantius was aware. 448 The works that survive include a number of treatises on different matters of concern to the church and the Christian community; there are also three books titled Testimonia ad Quirinum, which use an arrangement of passages of scripture to show the passing of the ‘Old Law’ and its fulfillment in Jesus Christ. Examples of Cyprian’s belief in God’s anger run across his corpus. These can frequently take the form of Old Testament quotations as illustrative of a point or proof of a claim. 449 We shall look at these in the context of at two treatises by Cyprian and extract from these some thematic points about his treatment of divine anger. Our first text is the third in the series of Cyprian’s thirteen treatises. Titled De Lapsis, the treatise takes up the question of how to deal with those Christians who, faced with the very real threats of persecution, rescinded their faith and now sought readmission into the Christian community. Like Novatian, Cyprian thought that these Christians should be subject to harsher rules and greater scrutiny, not simply received back into the fold without question or renewed commitment. 450 The text is primarily concerned with a matter of doctrinal import that has arisen from contemporary events: it serves as a response to the 167 448 The absence of Arnobius is striking in this respect, since the others, both Minucius Felix and Tertullian, were North African, and the one Latin apologist whom Lactantius does not mention was based in Rome. Scholarship on the topic generally argues that Arnobius would have converted after the point at which Lactantius departed for Nicomedia (c.297) and cites this as explanation enough for Lactantius’ ignorance on the matter. Perhaps this student-professor relationship was not as close as others that existed in antiquity; we have ample evidence of the continued correspondence between teachers and their former pupils. Apparently this was not the case for Arnobius and Lactantius. 449 See Tilley (1997) 28-41 for an exceptionally insightful discussion of Cyprian’s hermeneutics, his reading and representation of the Hebrew scriptures, and how his work in these two areas both compared to Tertullian’s and later influenced the arguments of the Donatists. 450 He maintained that at the least, the question should be deferred to a council of bishops to be held once the persecution was over. Cyprian encountered a great deal of opposition from those who thought him unfit to even contribute to the discussion since he himself had fled Carthage when the persecution began. theological consequences of the persecution, somewhat like Tertullian’s Apologeticum, it is local and specific. Cyprian begins with a grand statement of sympathy and understanding: he is aware of the many and significant sufferings that so many have endured, and although fortunate enough to have escaped such calamity himself, he can imagine the enormity and difficulty of the choices that loomed before his audience. He reassures Christians that all will be set right in the end and that God’s retribution will punish the persecutors. 451 Soon Cyprian switches gears and begins an attack on the lapsi, moving from compassionate compatriot to frustrated accuser. His most basic point throughout the criticism is that the Christians should have seen persecution coming, precisely because they are Christians and know that God punishes everyone’s sin. In fact, he argues, persecution is at the least the sort of punishment that Christians deserve for their disobedience. 452 Support for Cyprian’s claims are drawn from Old Testament examples of God’s wrath with the Israelites for their transgressions of the law and he repeatedly informs his audience that they have been duly warned by both the apostles and by scripture. Like Lactantius, Cyprian’s emphasis is on the penalty of breaking the divine law. The fact that God sees all things 168 451 De Lapsis 1: Pax ecce, dilectissimi fratres, Ecclesiae reddita est et, quod difficile nuper incredulis ac perfidis impossibile videbatur, ope atque ultione divina securitas nostra reparata est. 452 De Lapsis (hereafter L) 5: Habenda tamen est, fratres dilectissimi, ratio veritatis, nec sic mentem debet et sensum persecutionis infestae tenebrosa caligo caecasse, ut nihil remanserit lucis et luminis unde divina praecepta perspici possint. Si cladis causa cognoscitur, et medela vulneris invenitur. Dominus probari familiam suam voluit; et quia traditam nobis divinitus disciplinam pax longa corruperat, jacentem fidem et pene, ut ita dixerim, dormientem censura coelestis erexit; cumque nos peccatis nostris amplius mereremur, clementissimus Dominus sic cuncta moderatus est, ut hoc omne quod gestum est exploratio potius quam persecutio videretur. The seeming harshness of Cyprian’s claim can be mitigated by remembering that he is primarily attacking the clergy and bishops: yes, Christians have fallen from grace through immoral behavior, but their leadership has paved the way by pursuing wealth and power in the Church, 3.6-7. means that we cannot escape him or his judgment. 453 Persecution does not necessarily mean that God’s wrath has come to end. Christians should constantly evaluate their sin and think about the punishment that they deserve; no one should believe that because he or she is temporarily safe that the eternal reward waits for them - in fact, there is cause for greater concern since this could only mean that more divine anger is reserved for them. The only avenue available to humankind to avert God’s anger is to try to appease it by ‘fasting, weeping, and mourning.’ 454 Cyprian’s configuration of the relationship between divine anger and the persecution is strikingly severe. Yet it is consistent with his understanding of the kinds of behaviors that incur God’s wrath, all of which relate to the fact that the divine law has been broken. In Cyprian’s formulation, the law is the law, and any infraction thereof will instigate God’s anger and subsequently his punishment. 455 The only solace that seems to exist for Christians alone is that they can make appeal to and entreat God for mercy and forgiveness. Unlike the persecutors, Christians have knowledge of the supreme God, knowledge that they can use to improve their situation as well as to seek pardon for their offenses. Despite this provision, few other apologists seem to attack other Christians with the same vehemence, barring those who are attacking groups and individuals that they have deemed heretical. Some of the 169 453 L 18: Caeterum, si quis, praepropera festinatione temerarius remissionem peccatorum dare, se cunctis putat posse, aut audet Domini praecepta rescindere, non tantum nihil prodest sed et obest lapsis. Provocasse est iram, non servasse sententiam, nec misericordiam prius Dei deprecandam putare, sed contempto Domino de sua facultate praesumere. See further 19-20 and here, 21: Delicta potius nostra reputemus, actus nostros et animi secreta revolventes, conscientiae merita ponderemus. Redeat in cor nostrum non ambulasse nos in viis Domini et abjecisse legem Dei, praecepta eius et monita salutaria numquam servare voluisse. 454 L 29: Ad Dominum toto corde redeamus. Iram et offensam eius ieiuniis, fletibus, planctibus, sicut admonet ipse, placemus. 455 ‘The law is the law’ - yet there remained some question over what exactly the lex Dei was. This is a problem that we shall take up in the next chapter. For an interesting survey of the concept across a broad chronological spectrum, see Rémi Brague, The Law of God: The Philosophical History of an Idea. (Translated by Lydia G. Cochrane). University of Chicago Press, 2007. more programmatic statements are found elsewhere, for example the ideas that God is always watching, that he is angry, and that punishment will come, but the degree to which Cyprian affirms and repeats these themes is exceptional. If the Christians are targets of God’s wrath, so too are those who persecute them. In his fifth treatise, Ad Demetrianum, Cyprian takes aim at the pagan accusation, familiar to us by now, that the Christians are the cause of the calamities assaulting the empire. His argument is somewhat similar to Tertullian’s insofar as it sees the Christian God’s anger as the reason for the current misfortunes. Faced with the charge that an increase in wars, plagues, famines, and droughts are due to the Christians’ refusal to worship the traditional Roman gods, Cyprian maintains that it is really the pagans’ fault for refusing to acknowledge the Christian God. A distinguishing characteristic of his claim, however, is that the world is simply getting old and that it is by virtue of its increasing age that it no longer produces as it once did and that everything has begun to deteriorate. 456 Part of the problem, then, is age, but the other part is that God’s anger at those who neglect his worship is hastening the end of the world and the last judgment. All of this has been foretold, continues Cyprian, and all of it happens because the pagans do not worship God. Cyprian culls proof from the Old Testament scriptures, discussing passages in which God’s anger at sin and impropriety results in punishment. He is particularly fond of citing examples that highlight the intimacy of the relationship between anger and fear. Thus in the ninth chapter, he sets up an Old Testament scenario as a parallel to his own day. The passage he quotes is from Hosea: 170 456 Ad Demetrianum 3: Dixisti per nos fieri et quod nobis debeant imputari omnia ista quibus nunc mundus quatitur et urgetur, quod dii vestri a nobis non colantur. Qua in parte, quia ignarus divinae cognitionis et veritatis alienus es, illud primo in loco scire debes, senuisse jam mundum, non illis viribus stare quibus prius steterat, nec vigore et robore eo valere quo antea praevalebat. Hoc etiam, nobis tacentibus et nulla de Scripturis sanctis praedicationibusque divinis documenta promentibus, mundus ipse jam loquitur et occasum sui rerum labentium probatione testatur. Hear the word of the Lord, you children of Israel: for the judgment of the Lord is against the inhabitants of the earth; because there is neither mercy, nor truth, nor knowledge of God upon the earth. But cursing, and lying, and killing, and stealing, and committing adultery, is broken out over the land, they mingle blood with blood. Therefore shall the land mourn, with every one that dwells therein, with the beasts of the field, with things that creep on the earth, and with the fowls of heaven; and the fishes of the sea shall languish, so that no man shall judge, no man shall rebuke. 457 Cyprian’s exposition of the passage runs as follows: God says he is wrathful and angry, because there is no acknowledgement of God in the earth, and God is neither known nor feared. The sins of lying, of lust, of fraud, of cruelty, of impiety, of anger, God rebukes and finds fault with, and no one is converted to innocency. Lo, those things are happening which were before foretold by the words of God; nor is anyone admonished by the belief of things present to take thought for what is to come. 458 Cyprian’s use and discussion of the passage suggest that he too took the words of the Old Testament at face value. 459 There is no room given to the possibility that God’s anger was meant as a metaphor for something else, and there is certainly no indication that Cyprian found the idea of an angry deity, Christian or pagan, as theologically problematic in any way. His presentation of the text speaks to the degree to which Cyprian’s view of divine anger differed from, say, Arnobius’ view of it. Rather than give space to a consideration of the 171 457 Ad Demetrianum 9, quoting Hosea 4:1-4: Audite sermonem Domini, filii Israel, quia iudicium est Domini adversus incolas terrae, eo quod neque misericordia, neque veritas, neque agnitio Dei sit super terram, sed execratio, et mendacium, et caedes, et furtum, et adulterium diffusum est super terram; sanguinem sanguini supermiscent. Idcirco terra lugebit cum universis incolis suis, cum bestiis agri, cum serpentibus terrae, cum volucribus coeli, et deficient pisces maris, ut nemo iudicet, nemo revincat. Translation FOC. 458 Ad Demetrianum 9: Indignari se Deus dicit et irasci quod agnitio Dei non sit in terris, et Deus non agnoscitur nec timetur. Delicta mendaciorum, libidinum, fraudium, crudelitatis, impietatis, furoris Deus increpat et incusat, et ad innocentiam nemo convertitur. Fiunt ecce quae verbis Dei ante praedicta sunt, nec quisquam fide praesentium ut in futurum consulat admonetur. Translation FOC. 459 Tilley (1997) 34 identifies three steps to Cyprian’s methodology for the evaluation of biblical texts. He begins with his chosen citation (and here, as for Tertullian, the context of that citation is important); takes note of the original audience and the reason for the writing of the verses; and finally, in a move that Tilley thinks ‘both built upon and nearly negated the first two,’ Cyprian applied the citation directly to his community: ‘any verse could speak equally well to the present as it had to the past, and interpretation of the verse no longer depended on the literary or rhetorical contexts in the biblical book from which it came.’ validity or impossibility of divine wrath, Cyprian invokes the Old Testament accounts as sufficient proof for his assertions. The discussion above brings to light an important point: the third century Latin Christian opinion on divine anger was diverse and nuanced. Despite an awareness of the philosophical and theological tenets that deny the possibility of God’s wrath, it could be understood as a necessary component of the divine nature. There are a few points of consensus among those who find that some version of divine anger exists. Included among these are the ideas that God is the ultimate judge, that a day of final judgment awaits and that the fear of God is crucial to the working of religion. 460 The discrepancies among them reflect, however, the theologians’ response to and interaction with the commonly held belief in God’s impassibility and their commitment to a previous philosophical education. One’s relationship to the theosophical tradition could be carefully formulated or nearly wholly ignored, as it was by Cyprian and Tertullian. The method employed by Minucius Felix and Arnobius was to use the tenets of that tradition to attack the representations of the pagan divinities. This also implies that the true God whom the theologians defend is beyond reproach because he meets the kinds of criteria that the apologists establish through their criticisms of the pagan gods and goddesses. Another option was to use the philosophical idea of the supreme god in a positive way, as a means by which to support the idea of the Christian God. Novatian offers the clearest example of this tactic through his adoption of 172 460 But as we see with Novatian and Minucius Felix, one could hold this belief without attributing it to divine wrath in the literal sense. philosophical language to describe and defend God’s nature. Similarly, Minucius Felix writes that it was possible to mistake Christians for philosophers, so alike are their ideas of God. 461 For all three, the idea of God’s wrath is bound up in the question of his nature. Although all three theologians adopt the perspective of the philosophical tradition when either attacking pagan deities or supporting their own deity, they come to differing conclusions about the role of anger in the Christian God. For Arnobius and Minucius Felix, divine wrath is incompatible with the divine nature, but for Novatian the issue is somewhat more complex. Although he maintains the perfection and immateriality of God, he does not altogether deny its possibility but argues instead that it is a different kind of anger than that which affects humans. On the one hand, by invoking this kind of distinction, Novatian makes a move similar to Lactantius’ in De ira Dei. On the other hand, he negotiates this difference in a unique way. While Novatian draws a line between human and divine anger, Lactantius draws one between just and unjust anger. Anger serves the same function in both cases, but for Novatian no kind of anger can be shared by God and humans. Each theologian’s use of and response to the fundamental claims of the philosophical and theological opinions shaped and was shaped by his relationship to the Old Testament. Here we find four options for articulating one’s position: the use of quotations from the Old Testament to support a claim or underscore a point; the supplementation of a general idea of God conditioned by a literal reading of the Old Testament; the complete avoidance of a reference to it in a treatise; or the presentation of the issue for discussion. Although we did not explore all of the examples here, Cyprian made frequent use of the 173 461 Minucius’ point is that he has followed the philosophical tradition by establishing proof for the existence of only one, supreme God. This can lead people to think that Christians are philosophers or that philosophers are Christians, an error which Minucius will set out to correct. Octavius 20: Exposui opiniones omnium ferme philosophorum, quibus illustrior gloria est Deum unum multis licet designasse nominibus; ut quivis arbitretur, aut nunc Christianos philosophos esse, aut philosophos fuisse jam tunc Christianos. Old Testament both in his treatises and in his letters; this is especially the case in his three books of testimony Against the Jews. 462 Both Cyprian’s and Tertullian’s ideas of an angry God draw upon exempla from the Old Testament texts and suggest a greater sense in which their fundamental ideas about God and about religion were based in a reading of those books, not unlike the impression that we get from Lactantius. Arnobius and Minucius Felix, however, shy away from discussing the Old Testament books or making an appeal to them in their defenses of Christianity and the Christian God. This seeming disavowal of the theological continuities between Judaism and Christianity could be interpreted in a number of ways, but not by an argument for their ignorance of the texts. It is something more like a sweeping under the rug. If a Christian wanted to invoke the support of the Greek philosophical tradition in his description and explanation of Christianity he ran into a series of problems. To explain how it was that the Christian God became human, suffered, died, and rose again in the form of Jesus Christ posed sufficient challenge; a discussion of the biblical representations of God could pose another substantial difficulty in overcoming the discrepancies between their ideal of God and the religious tradition on which their theology was purported to have been built. 463 Novatian’s comments about God’s wrath further illustrate the point: if we believe God to have certain properties that are in line with those attributed to the summus deus, he suggests, then we must deal with the matter of how he is described in our textual sources. The approach that a Christian theologian took to his understanding and description of God was related to his position on two other identifiable questions, the role and 174 462 The text is as polemic as it sounds - the opening chapter of the first book shows that that God is angry with the Jews for worshipping idols and for forsaking their God. Throughout the books, Cyprian uses Old Testament citations to prove his claim that the Jews are condemned. 463 For one example of the kinds of attacks of this kind that could be leveled against the Christians, see Celsus’ treatise On the True Doctrine (preserved in part in Origen’s reply, Contra Celsum), 178CE. perceived worth of philosophy and the degree to which the texts of the Old Testament were formative to Christian dogma. Other factors were certainly at play, including but not limited to the location of each, the time at which each wrote, his education, and his role in the institution of the church. The intended audience and the broader aims of a text also played a part; the texts that we have considered include those both apologetic and theological, differences which can account not only for style but also for the kinds of material upon which each author drew in crafting his argument. It is with the questions of aim and audience in mind that we shall further consider Lactantius’ view of divine anger. We have seen that in De ira Dei, Lactantius drew upon classical, and particularly Ciceronian, rhetoric and philosophy and that the basis for his argument for the existence of God’s wrath was formed by his reading of the Old Testament. Nor was Lactantius’ idea about divine anger unique to De ira Dei, rather it is explicitly foreshadowed in his Divinae Institutiones. A consideration of Lactantius’ treatment of the question in this text as well as his De mortibus Persecutorum will help us better understand the role of the Old Testament, the Greco-Roman philosophical traditions, and Lactantius’ greater purposes in De ira Dei. The seven books of the Divinae Institutiones constitute an introduction to Christian religion coupled with a refutation of pagan religion and philosophy. In addition to the thematic points of intersection between this text and De ira Dei, there is one point at which Lactantius is explicit about the problem of divine anger and his intention to treat the subject. Here Lactantius criticizes the theological concept of the supreme god as a perfect being for its implication that God cannot be affected by anger: For the time being he suffers men to stray and to fail in duty even to himself while he remains just, gentle, and patient. In him is perfect virtue: perfect patience is necessarily in him also. Hence the view of some people that God does not even get angry, because he is not subject to emotions, which are disturbances of the mind: all creatures liable to emotional affect are frail. That belief destroys truth and religion 175 utterly. Let us set aside for the moment, however, this topic of the wrath of God, because the material for it is quite large and needs to be treated more broadly in its own right. 464 This programmatic statement comes at the end of the second book (titled ‘On the Origin of Error’) of the Divinae Institutiones, immediately before Lactantius gives his reader a recapitulation of the book’s material. The philosophers’ refusal to attribute anger to God is presented as a significant factor in their greater misconception of the divine. It is also shaped as a topic worth its own separate treatment. Lactantius’ awareness of his projects in both texts and of their relationship to one another is further evidenced in the second chapter of De ira Dei, where he refers to this passage and its broader context as ample proof of philosophical error. 465 The fact that pagan religion and mythology allow for angry divinities does not appease Lactantius. 466 Lactantius declines to take up the question of divine emotions insofar as they are attributed to the gods and goddesses of classical mythology. The closest he gets is to disparage them for being lustful and driven by desire, which for him is not quite the same thing as being affected by emotions; while he finds the behavior of these divinities despicable and offensive, Lactantius does not take on the question of the emotions that might have led to these behaviors. Unlike Arnobius, who attacks the emotions of the pagan deities from a philosophical perspective, Lactantius attacks the gods on three grounds: first, 176 464 DI 2.17.3-5: Nunc autem patitur homines errare, et adversum se quoque impios esse, ipse iustus, et mitis, et patiens. Nec enim fieri potest, ut non is, in quo perfecta sit virtus, sit etiam perfecta patientia. Unde quidam putant, ne irasci quidem Deum omnino, quod affectibus, qui sunt perturbationes animi, subjectus non sit; quia fragile est omne animal quod afficitur et commovetur. Quae persuasio veritatem, atque religionem funditus tollit. Sed seponatur interim locus hic nobis de ira Dei disserendi, quod et uberior est materia, et opere proprio latius exequenda. 465 De ira Dei 2.4: Sed horum inperitiam iam coarguimus in secundo Divinarum Institutionum libro. 466 Nor does he attack representations of them as angry or emotional in the first place. This is not surprising given his support for the idea of divine wrath, but it is another point of contrast between him and Arnobius. that they were originally human; second, that the images people worship are created and of the earth; and third, that all the divinities that do exist are only there because God rejected them for one reason or another. 467 Lactantius introduces as examples stories about Jupiter and Saturn, in which he finds multiple problems, including that they were born (which implies mortality rather than immortality), could be conquered by other gods (i.e. Jupiter by Cupid, which proves that Jupiter cannot be the supreme, omnipotent god), feared the creation of a power greater than their own (as would result from union with Thetis), and so on. 468 Throughout his criticisms, Lactantius maintains the theological principles of the omnipotence, omniscience, and immateriality of the supreme god, agreeing with these ideas up until the question of emotions, which he avoids. Lactantius’ relationship with philosophy is intricate: even though he would not necessarily have admitted that he was adhering to such philosophical notions, given his expressed intent of proving philosophy invalid, he nonetheless relies on them insofar as they support his claims about the ultimate divinity. 469 Although he loathes the Stoics and Epicureans here and in De ira Dei, he nonetheless presents each of their theories for explaining the mythological tales about Jupiter, even if only to show that the tale itself is 177 467 These arguments are found throughout books one and two of the Divinae Institutiones, but Lactantius’ recap at 2.17.8-12 is a particularly brief summary of the charges he levels against the pagan gods. In the last, he is not too far from Arnobius, who also maintained a belief in the existence of lesser gods below the Christian God. 468 See DI 1.10-11, passim. 469 As noted by M. Colish, as well as others, with specific regard to Stoic theology, Lactantius ‘emphasizes the limits of philosophy as a source of truth, particularly in the field of ethics. He acknowledges that philosophers may have hit upon the truth accidentally. When this is the case the Christian may borrow the philosophers’ ideas.’ op. cit. n.418, p. 39. problematic in its own right. 470 He also shows that he is familiar with hermeneutic strategies in these discussions, writing that ‘no poetical work is a total fiction. There is some element perhaps of adaptation and concealment by metaphor so that the truth can be hidden in wraps.’ 471 As we saw previously, however, this ‘adaptation and concealment’ is limited to the interpretation of Greco-Roman mythology and not applicable to the Old Testament. Despite his many criticisms of mythology and pagan divinities, Lactantius does not find fault with the frequent representation of those deities as angry. If anything, writes Lactantius, the Greco-Roman gods are found wanting in vengeance: If a poor man does things like that, he gets the whips and flames, the rack, crucifixion, anything that men maddened to anger can think of, but in punishing people caught in sacrilege they mistrust the power of their own gods: if they think their gods do have power, why not leave the space for revenge to them? 472 Lactantius accentuates the point by making an appeal to Cicero’s Verrines and arguing that in the case of Verres, it was left to Cicero, rather than the gods, to restore justice. 473 This brief passage is telling not only for its presentation of Lactantius’ idea of anger in its human form but also as a means by which to underscore the relationship that he posits between anger and power. Although there are elements of mockery and sarcasm in this discussion and it fits into a larger criticism about the created nature of the Roman gods, it still stresses the degree 178 470 For a taste, see his summaries of the Stoic theory: Divinae Institutiones 1.12; the Euhemerist at 1.13. The only positive thing that Lactantius identifies in these theories and in allegory more generally is that they betray the fact that the philosophers and allegorists had to have known that the ‘gods’ of whom they wrote were not really gods at all. 471 DI 1.11.30: Nihil igitur a poetis in totum fictum est: aliquid fortasse traductum, et obliqua figuratione obscuratum, quo veritas involuta tegeretur; sicut illud de sortitione regnorum. 472 DI 2.4.21-22: At si humilis quispiam tale quid commiserit, huic praesto sunt flagella, ignes, equulei, cruces, et quidquid excogitare iratis et furentibus licet. Sed cum puniunt deprehensos in sacrilegio, ipsi de deorum suorum potestate diffidunt. Cur enim illis potissimum non relinquant ulciscendi sui locum, si eos posse aliquid arbitrantur? The acts to which Lactantius refers are those he alleges to have been committed by Dionysius in ‘Greece,’ by which Bowen and Garnsey note he likely means Magna Graecia, (2003) 127 n.12. 473 As Lactantius puts it at 2.4.31, Cicero said that the Sicilians begged him to intervene, since they no longer had gods to whom to turn in search of aid. to which Lactantius believed that one of the essential, defining rights and purposes of a divinity was to have the power to punish an offender, regardless of the crime. The pagan gods’ inability to punish is one of the fundamental ways in which Lactantius establishes their impotency against the supreme power of the Christian God. In the one text where we would especially expect to find a discussion of God’s wrath, however, the idea is surprisingly absent. Lactantius’ De Mortibus Persecutorum chronicles the actions and harsh ends of those emperors who sanctioned the persecution of Christians. Lactantius’ prefatory comments indicate both relief at the end of persecution and conviction that those who offend God will eventually be punished: They who insulted the divinity lie low, they who cast down the holy temple are fallen with more tremendous ruin, and the tormentors of just men have poured out their guilty souls amidst plagues inflicted by heaven, and amidst deserved tortures. For God delayed to punish them that, by great and marvelous examples, he might teach posterity that he alone is God, and that with fit vengeance he executes judgment on the proud, the impious, and the persecutors. 474 The list begins with Nero and continues through Galerius and the eventual triumph of Constantine (and Licinius), increasing in detail with each successive emperor. Given Lactantius’ expressed plan to show how the punishment of God was meted out, some consideration of the anger that led to punishment seems warranted. Yet there is no exploration of divine wrath, and only one mention of it, wherein Aurelian is described as having ‘provoked the anger of God.’ 475 The emphasis instead is on God as punisher (vindex) and on his judgment and not on the necessity of anger to these roles. 179 474 De Mortibus Persecutorum 1.5-7: Qui insultaverant deo, iacent, qui templum sanctum everte rant, ruina maiore ceciderunt, qui iustos excarnificaverunt, caelestibus plagis et cruciatibus meritis nocentes animas profuderunt. Sero id quidem, sed graviter ac digne. Distulerat enim poenas eorum deus, ut ederet in eos magna et mirabilia exempla, quibus posteri discerent et deum esse unum et eundem iudicem digna vid<elicet> supplicia impiis ac persecutoribus inrogare. Translation FOC. 475 De Mortibus Persecutorum 1.6.1: Aurelianus, qui esset natura venatus et praeceps, quamvis captivitatem Valeriani meminisset, tamen obliuts scleris eius et poenae iram dei crudelibus factis lacessivit. ‘Ira’ appears three times in this text, as compared to sixty-two times in De ira Dei. The apparent inconsistencies in Lactantius’ understanding of divine wrath created by these three texts can be partly explained by their differing purposes. De Mortibus Persecutorum is an often explicit account of the earthly punishments that the persecutors faced as a result of offending the Christian God and harming his people. Insofar as it is a text filled with proof of the divine judgment, and insofar as Lactantius believed that judgment to be intimately linked to God’s wrath, it is a companion piece to De ira Dei. Lactantius’ agenda in this treatise is predominantly shaped by an interest in the historical unfolding of events, but these events should be understood as manifestations of the theological ideas on which he expounds in De ira Dei and Divinae Institutiones. We have in the Divinae Institutiones a text that was meant to codify and explain Christian theology in such a way as to appeal to the educated elite but so as not to be confused with philosophy; the basic ideas of divine anger and punishment are present in the work and are fundamental to Lactantius’ case for the greatness of the Christian God, but they are not explored to the same extent as they are in De ira Dei. For Lactantius, divine wrath was a subject closely connected to the kinds of questions that he raised in the longer work, but deserving of its own, separate treatment. Lactantius seeks to create and to exploit a tension between pagan philosophy and Christian theology, and the rift he creates runs throughout Divinae Institutiones. On the one hand, Lactantius wants his treatise to have an effect on the cultured elite, but on the other hand, he devotes a significant portion of that treatise to denigrating and deriding the philosophical systems to which that elite would have adhered. 476 One of his principal criticisms of pagan philosophy is that it does not contain true knowledge, which is 180 476 For a sense of the intellectual activities of the early third century, see M. Trapp, ‘Philosophy, Scholarship, and the World of Learning in the Severan Period,’ in S. Swain, S. Harrison, and J. Elsner (eds). Severan Culture. Cambridge University Press 2007, 470-488. Although the period under discussion in this article predates that during which Lactantius was writing, it was nevertheless formative to those apologists (at least) to whom Lactantius saw himself responding and upon whose work he sought to improve with the Divinae Institutiones. something that can be obtained from God alone. The knowledge that one receives from God is the only true wisdom, and far outstrips anything that any of the philosophical schools have put forth. 477 Lactantius also maintains that the philosophers ultimately fail because they cannot do or live as they instruct men to live; unlike Jesus who was the perfect embodiment of his teachings, the philosophers, writes Lactantius, set the bar so high that they could not succeed. 478 At the root of all of this, he continues, is that the philosophers do not really understand the mechanisms of justice, something which is itself closely linked to the workings and purposes of emotions in both humans and in God. That justice has been misconstrued and misunderstood is an important component of the work as a whole, and the driving argument of the fifth book thereof (aptly titled ‘Justice’). In a key chapter, Lactantius addresses his detractors, criticizes his contemporaries, and crafts a programmatic statement for the work. He begins by referring again to his two anonymous opponents and tells us that his ‘aim in writing was not to put down people who could be eliminated in a few words but to wipe out in one single attack all those people everywhere who are attacking justice or have done so.’ 479 Lactantius is aware that numerous others have undertaken similar tasks in both Greek and Latin, but he tells us that he formed his argument to be the definitive end of the question, to wipe out the necessity of reading 181 477 This is a recurring theme throughout Divinae Institutiones, and the focus of the third and fourth books. 478 For Lactantius on Jesus as teacher, see especially Divinae Institutiones 4.23-25. Another part of his argument is that the philosophers were human and destined to fail because of their human frailty. Although Jesus was divine and heaven-sent, his existence in the flesh and on the earth proved his superiority. 479 DI 5.4.1: Ii ergo de quibus dixi, cum, praesente me, ac dolente, sacrilegas suas litteras explicassent, et illorum superba impietate stimulatus, et veritatis ipsius conscientia, et (ut ego arbitror) Deo, suscepi hoc munus, ut omnibus ingenii mei viribus accusatores iustitiae refutarem: non ut contra hos scriberem, qui paucis verbis obteri poterant; sed ut omnes, qui ubique idem operis efficiunt, aut effecerunt, uno semel impetu profligarem. previous writers and close off all avenues of reply and elaboration for future writers. 480 He then goes on to discuss Tertullian and Cyprian in more detail. Although Tertullian had the same goals in his Apologecticum, says Lactantius, there is nonetheless a difference between responding to attacks and establishing new precepts. Lactantius envisions himself as doing both in this treatise. 481 In addition to this, Lactantius sees himself as going a step (or a few steps) beyond Cyprian; he mentions here the treatise De Lapsis, addressed to Demetrianus, maintaining that Cyprian ‘failed to exploit the material as he should have done, because Demetrianus should have been rebutted with arguments based in logic, and not with quotations from scripture, which he simply saw as silly fiction and lies.’ Instead of bombarding his audience with quotations of scripture, Lactantius thinks that Cyprian ought to have given his reader some ‘primary training, as if he were a beginner, showing him the elements of illumination little by little;’ ‘men’s evidence’ should come before ‘God’s evidence,’ since man is more likely to believe the former and then get on track to receive the latter. 482 The Old Testament books and other scriptural sources are valid, but they have their place. For Lactantius this does not include a role in the rebuttal of the philosophers or in the advancement of the Christian cause. 182 480 DI 5.4.2: Non dubito enim, quin et alii plurimi, et multis in locis, et non modo graecis, sed etiam latinis litteris, monimentum iniustitiae suae struxerint: quibus singulis quoniam respondere non poteram, sic agendam mihi hanc causam putavi, ut et priores cum omnibus suis scriptis perverterem, et futuris omnem facultatem scribendi aut respondendi amputarem. 481 DI 5.4.3: Quanquam Tertullianus eamdem causam plene peroraverit in eo libro cui Apologetico nomen est: tamen, quoniam aliud est accusantibus respondere, quod in defensione aut negatione sola positum est, aliud instituere, quod nos facimus, in quo necesse est doctrinae totius substantiam contineri... 482 DI 5.4.4-6: qua materia non est usus, ut debuit; non enim Scripturae testimoniis, quam ille utique vanam, fictam, commentitiamque putabat, sed argumentis et ratione fuerat refellendus. Nam cum ageret contra hominem veritatis ignarum, dilatis paulisper divinis lectionibus, formare hunc a principio tanquam rudem debuit, eique paulatim lucis principia monstrare, ne toto lumine objecto caligaret. Nam sicut infans solidi ac fortis cibi capere vim non potest ob stomachi teneritudinem, sed liquore lactis ac mollitudine alitur, donec, firmatis viribus, vesci fortioribus possit: ita et huic oportebat, quia nondum poterat capere divina, prius humana testimonia offerri, id est, philosophorum et historicorum, ut suis potissimum refutaretur auctoribus. Lactantius represents an interesting case both in his treatment of divine anger and in the ways in which that treatment is illustrative of his broader intellectual training and theological aims. He occupies a somewhat borderline position in respect to both the Old Testament and pagan philosophy. His opinion on divine anger is informed and conditioned by his reading of the Hebrew Bible and of those apologists who defended the idea and were known to him, namely Tertullian and Cyprian. Yet his disavowal of proofs culled from these scriptures in light of his desire to reach a predominantly pagan audience prohibits him from drawing upon any of this evidence in making his defense or in building his case. When he does do so in his treatises, it is almost only by a subtle reference and not by direct quotation. Unlike Cyprian, he avoids the expressed introduction of scriptural proof and instead relies on citations from, for example, the Sibyls and other oracular pagan deities like Apollo. 483 Of all the apologists that we have examined, Lactantius is the only one to state in no uncertain terms the reasons why he chose the method and material to his argument that he did. Lactantius’ rejection of Cyprian’s approach merely distances him from the Old Testament; it does not entail a complete break with the text or its tradition. As we have seen, the apologist is quite clear about his reasoning: the use of the Old Testament books will not garner sympathy from pagans or bring anyone to conversion. One needs to employ a more familiar means by which to attract pagans and certainly not the kind of source material that would open an argument up to criticism and attack from the opposition. It would seem reasonable to expect that Lactantius approaches his arguments from a philosophical perspective, by finding points of agreement or at least by trying to reconcile points of difference. Yet we know that this is not the case. As opposed to his contemporaries, who 183 483 On Lactantius’ use of such oracles see S. Freund, ‘Christian Use and Valuation of Theological Oracles: The Case of Lactantius’ Divine Institutes,’ Vigiliae Christianae 60.3 (2006) 269-284. align themselves with either classical Greek philosophy or with evidence drawn from the Old Testament writings, albeit at various points along that spectrum, Lactantius turns instead to rhetoric. It is not just that Lactantius makes use of rhetorical principles and argumentation in his treatises, but that he adopts rhetorical strategies to construct his defense and explanation of Christianity. Rather than invoke elements of philosophy as does Arnobius, Lactantius shuns the efforts of the philosophers and ultimately disagrees with their claims. This cannot be true on every count: Lactantius naturally is in agreement with some of the fundamental claims of philosophical monotheism, but he does attempt to convince us that his explication of Christianity proposes a different system. For example, while the majority of these traditions would agree on the existence of only one, supreme god, Lactantius focuses on the different manifestations of that god by entering into detailed discussions of the divine nature. 484 For Lactantius, the differences are in the specifics. Despite the elements common to Christianity and the Greek philosophical and theosophical traditions, the ways in which Christianity and most importantly the supreme God of Christianity are distinct constitute those points on which he lingers. In the case of divine anger, this expansion requires an additional treatise, as he indicates in the Divinae Institutiones. 184 484 Lactantius does not even need to go into specifics; the mere addition of a relative clause can result in harmony or discord among philosophers and theologians, as W . Frede notes, ‘the phrase ‘belief in one God who governs the universe’ hides a certain ambiguity, and one might argue that everything turns on this ambiguity. One might argue that the Platonists, the Peripatetics, and the Stoics believe in one highest god who governs the universe, but that they also believe in many other gods. By contrast, one will say, the Christians believe in one and only one God, namely the being which governs the universe. And one will rightly insist that to believe in one highest god is not the same as to believe in one God, even if this highest god should be conceived of in such a lofty fashion as to be thought of as governing the whole universe.’ ‘Monotheism and Pagan Philosophy in Later Antiquity,’ in P . Athanassiadi and M. Frede (eds.) Pagan Monotheism in Later Antiquity. Oxford University Press, 1999, 43. Even if, as he might be so accused of having done, Lactantius was splitting hairs in drawing certain distinctions, the fact that he represented Christianity as something different and separate from any variety of pagan monotheism is worth our attention. Lactantius does not think that the philosophers are equipped with the necessary tools with which to contemplate the divine; their arguments are repeatedly characterized as empty, false, and lacking in truth. Christianity, however, is the vera religio: in it and through knowledge of God, one finds wisdom and truth, the items that the philosophers seek but fail to obtain. The ideas about the divine nature (through an understanding of which one subsequently understands God) promulgated in the Old Testament books (and in the New) are valid, but in Lactantius’ opinion must be presented in a culturally appropriate way. Rhetoric, its tools, its argumentation, and its artifice allow Lactantius to present the fundamental points of Christianity to his elite, pagan, cultured audience in a way that they will understand and appreciate. He intended his to be the final word, an improvement upon the work of his predecessors and the definitive presentation of the matter, alleviating the need for future writers to undertake so momentous a task. These ideals, expressed only in the Divinae Institutiones, are applicable to De ira Dei as well. In both treatises, Lactantius positions himself in opposition to the philosophers and consciously refrains from incorporating explicit references to or quotations from the Old Testament; located at some point in between these two inherited traditions, Lactantius creates a third point and fashions a rhetorical argument against his detractors. When it comes to the problem of God’s wrath, Lactantius is not particularly unique in acknowledging either that it is a theosophical problem (insofar as it had been an issue of debate) or in his belief in its reality. As we have seen, Arnobius and Novatian took up the question in different ways in their treatises as they tried to defend their faith against pagan critiques, attack the pagan mythology itself, and negotiate the place of the representations of God in the Old Testament. Tertullian and Cyprian both express a conviction that God’s wrath is present and palpable; while Tertullian gives space to possible philosophical 185 objections, Cyprian focuses on past incidents from the Old Testament to instruct and to correct. Lactantius suppresses the fact that his conception of divine wrath is rooted in a literal reading of the Old Testament and assails the arguments of the philosophical schools by drawing upon his training in rhetoric. If any trend emerges from this discussion, it is that many of the Christian theologians and apologists who wrote in Latin in the second and third centuries did not seem to think that the philosophical or theological tradition merited special attention in terms of the principles of Christian theology. 485 For Lactantius especially, philosophy was not something to be included in religion but rather to be distinguished from it; whereas a number of his contemporaries uphold or engage with philosophical tenets, Lactantius seeks to refute philosophical ideas as baseless and false. Lactantius’ decision to turn instead to rhetoric, while not necessarily novel, is indicative of this trend. Moreover, it highlights the fact that he believed this to be an appropriate and effective way to reach his audience. We have already identified this audience as consisting of members of the cultured and educated elite; thus far in our consideration of the treatise we have viewed it as the rhetorical presentation of a concept of importance to both Greek philosophical and Christian theological belief. Yet as Lactantius was well aware, the eternal aim of rhetoric was to persuade on all matters to which a speech could apply. In the next chapter, we shall turn our attention to the issues of contemporary relevance to Lactantius, and against which De ira Dei can be understood as a reaction and an intervention. To do so will require an investigation of the socio-historic context in which Lactantius wrote as well as the political and religious matters in which the empire’s Christians and the emperor himself were embroiled. Against this backdrop we shall be in a better position to discern 186 485 In contrast to those in the early tradition of Greek apologetic, as W . Harris notes, these ‘dealt with this dilemma of divine anger by siding with the intellectual-pagan view of the divine nature.’ Restraining Rage: The Ideology of Anger Control in Classical Antiquity. Harvard University Press 2002, 395. those points of which Lactantius attempted to persuade his Christian audience and to see in the treatise’s theological argument a message of direct contemporary relevance. 187 [5.] Anger and Adjudication: The Political Relevance of De ira Dei Our discussion of De ira Dei has so far been limited to the more abstract and conceptual aspects of the treatise and its contents. We have examined Lactantius’ indebtedness to Cicero in matters doxographic, theosophical, and rhetorical as well as his strategic use of Old Testament texts to support and justify his claim for divine wrath. In this final chapter, we shall turn to the implications of Lactantius’ message in the context of his socio-historic moment. The text was written after 313CE and thus on the one hand, after a period of intense, imperially-sanctioned persecution and the ending thereof by Licinius and Constantine. 486 On the other hand, despite the relief and sense of triumph expressed by some Christians, this remained a politically tenuous and religiously fraught historical moment. Constantine’s victory over Maxentius in 312 did not usher in an era of peace and tranquility but rather brought specific theological and political issues to the fore. Two such debates are of particular relevance to our study. The first concerns the behavior of Christians themselves. Significant points of difference emerged between Christians over matters of doctrine (e.g. rebaptism of the traditores) and ecclesiastical politics; in the case of the Donatist schism these debates escalated and continued throughout the fourth century. The second, and related, question has to do with imperial behavior and deportment, specifically in the adjudication of disputes. When acting as the judge of matters brought before him, the emperor had to consider not only the legal issues at hand but also the proper social conduct required of his position. In religious affairs, this balance was complicated by the question of whether or not the emperor, in his capacity as a civic judge, was the appropriate figure to adjudicate religious offenses. 188 486 For the issues surrounding the dating of the treatise and bibliography, see C. Ingremeau, Lactance: La Colère de Dieu. Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1982, 25-36 and discussion in the Introduction. Constantine’s conversion to Christianity presented not so much a challenge to but a development in the traditional Roman handling of such matters. As we shall see below, in the late republic and early empire, religious offenses, although they were believed to have an impact upon the state, nonetheless remained beyond the legal jurisdiction of the courts. An offense against religion, whether procedural (as in a violation of ritual praxis), or against the religious system (such as committed by Christians, for example, by virtue of their rejection of that system) was closely tied to the city and the community; such an act was not personal or individual but rather communal and the responsibility of the group. An imperial decision to refrain from the prosecution of a religious offense suggests that acts of sacrilege were envisioned as committed against the gods themselves, thus relegating the punishment for those crimes to the deities rather than to the state. What I suggest in the pages that follow is that in De ira Dei, Lactantius’ arguments for divine wrath are representative of this classical mode of legal and religious thought. As such they should be understood in contrast to the opinions of others, like Eusebius, who envisioned the emperor as a creator and enforcer of religious law. We shall approach this idea from two perspectives. We shall first consider the role of the emperor in adjudicating religious disputes. Here the Donatist schism will provide a glimpse of Constantine’s interactions with his Christian subjects; similarly it gives us occasion to compare this to legal precedent. Our second inquiry concerns the figure of the judge as presented in Lactantius’ text. This examination of Lactantius’ argument brings to light his formulation of a classical political-religious opinion that posits the secular, traditional judge as both enforcer of earthly law and subject of divine law. Anger is described as fitting to the king just as it is to God; the judge however can perform his role without recourse to anger. 189 We shall begin with a few words about the socio-historic circumstances. The gradual breakdown of the tetrarchic system between its inception in 293 and its effective dissolution in 313 underscore the degree to which the empire operated under varying, uncertain conditions. Constantine remained a keen and shrewd political player throughout his continuing bid for solitary rule. The story of Constantine’s defeat of Maxentius at the Milvian Bridge in 312 is well known, though we should not overlook here the detail about Constantine’s supposed vision and conversion to Christianity. 487 Only Constantine and Licinius remained in power, in the west and the east, respectively. They would rule together although not necessarily in harmony and agreement from 313 until 324, when Constantine defeated Licinius and became the sole emperor. 488 The changes and inconsistencies in the imperial position towards the Christians were likewise problematic. We find in the east that the persecution was enforced with great zeal; despite their obvious biases, we should not discount Eusebius’ and Lactantius’ accounts of the miseries suffered by those who refused 190 487 The evidence for Constantine’s vision comes from Lactantius and Eusebius, De Mortibus Persecutorum (hereafter DMP) 44 and Vita Constantini (hereafter VC) 28-32, where it receives more extensive treatment. Whether or not Constantine converted to Christianity and what that would have meant are questions that have been frequently debated in the scholarship, but we would do well to follow H. Drake’s advice that ‘an even more pressing need is to account for the active role that Constantine began to assume in Christian affairs and the powers he began to assign to Christian bishops. Traditionally, all these questions have been intermingled by the dramatic circumstances of his conversion, so that the answer to that question preempted the need even to ask the others. That is the cardinal error of Constantine scholarship, for a Christian emperor might just as naturally have decided that God’s work was best left to God, and the bishops that imperial power, like all earthly temptation, was to be eschewed. That both thought otherwise is a matter of politics, not religion; its explanation lies in a series of assumptions all parties shared about the role of the emperor and in the routines both emperors and bishops had developed for resolving problems.’ (Constantine and the Bishops: The Politics of Intolerance. Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002, 201). Drake’s discussion of the discrepancies in the description of the labarum at 201-204 is also concise and insightful. Timothy. D. Barnes’ Constantine and Eusebius (Harvard University Press, 1981) is a particularly helpful account for those who seek both an introduction to and a consideration of the complexities of the late third and early fourth centuries. More recently, David S. Potter’s The Roman Empire at Bay, AD 180-395 (London: Routledge 2004) is similarly helpful, as is Drake’s work when it comes to relations between church and state. 488 The eventual disintegration of relations between Constantine and Licinius does not make it into DMP , but Eusebius gives a fair amount of space to this at VC 1.49-2.18. to sacrifice to the pagan deities. 489 In the west we are told that Constantius and, later, Constantine were sensitive to the plight of the Christians and hardly let the 303 edict alter their treatment of Christians. 490 Christian communities themselves were divided by the secular actions taken against them, leading to conflicts over the acceptability of martyrdom and the question over the readmission to the church of those who had renounced their faith or handed over scriptures. The Donatist schism in North Africa is representative both of the types of problems that arose in the ecclesiastical sphere and of imperial reactions to them. Our understanding of the Donatist schism is based primarily on Optatus’ treatise De Schismate Donatistarum (366-370 for the first six books; 385-390 for the seventh book), supplemented by the Appendices to that text as well as the Acts of the Abitinian Martyrs, a number of Augustine’s works which comment on the group, and some imperial legislation. 491 The Donatists have come to hold a prominent place in contemporary scholarship on this period of church and imperial history; about a decade ago Mark Edwards published a new translation of Optatus’ text and in 2004 David S. Potter used the Donatists as a lens through which to get a better grasp of Constantine’s religious policy in the early- 191 489 That Christians suffered during the persecution is an obvious theme that runs throughout DMP; it also has resonances in VC, although more so with respect to Licinius’ persecution, see the opening chapters of Book II. 490 Barnes 1973, 43-44 is inclined to think that Maxentius, though later vilified in the sources (particularly by Eusebius) was not uncharitable towards Christians, and notes that Maxentius likely ended the persecution in Africa by 307. 491 The schism began as early as 303, although some place the origin of the disagreement earlier (see below) and lasted through the fifth century, when in 415 the Donatists were stripped of their right to assemble. For this reason our ancient evidence for the schism includes the collection of various Acta of local, North African martyrs (discussed below,); Optatus’ text, begun c.384; the collection of documents attached to that text, of various date; Augustine’s Contra epistolana Parnaeniani, De baptismo Contra literas Petiliani, and Contra Cresconium; as well as letters and legislation preserved in Eusebius’ HE. A council at Carthage in 411, convened to give a final judgment on the schismatics, also includes material from and references to the proceedings and development of the schism in the previous century. mid fourth century. 492 While Edwards is more focused on the text (the book entirely consists of a translation and notes), Potter views the schism as an example of the way that Constantine adopted policies that served pragmatic, not ideological ends. As Potter maintains, Constantine’s attitude towards the church was formulated by a ‘series of actions, often taken in response to immensely complicated relationships within various Christian communities.’ 493 We shall address Constantine’s correspondence in the second part of the chapter, for now a brief summary of the schism and issues raised by Optatus is in order. Optatus identifies an origin of the schism that predates the Diocletianic persecution of 303. 494 According to his account, a woman named Lucilla kissed the bone of a martyr before taking communion; the archdeacon Caecilian saw this and chastised her for worshipping an idol. 495 This was an affront that Lucilla would not soon forget. In the meantime, the bishop of Carthage, Mensurius, hid a Christian named Felix, who was accused of having written a work that was offensive to the emperor. 496 The governor demanded that 192 492 Mark Edwards (Trans. and ed.), Optatus: Against the Donatists. Liverpool University Press, 1997; Potter (2004) 402-411. The bibliography on the Donatists is split in two: the schism either receives independent treatment or is used as a means by which to understand the broader issues and complexities of the period in which it occurred, most notably as regards Constantine’s position towards the Church. For the former, see W . H. C. Frend, The Donatist Church. Oxford, 1952 and Maureen Tilley, The Bible in Christian North Africa: the Donatist World. Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fortress Press, 1997. For questions of dating, see especially T. Barnes ‘The Beginnings of Donatism,’ JTS 26 (1975) 13-22. Both Potter (above) and Drake (2002) 212-222 offer good examples of the ways in which the schism has been used to illustrate or support a broader reading of Constantine’s Christianity and interference with the church. All English translations of De Schismate Donatistarum (hereafter SD) and the Appendices are taken from Edwards. 493 Potter (2004) 402; see also Drake (2002) 413 where he argues that the dispute raised problems that ‘resulted in a number of decisive modifications in imperial procedures; at the same time, they plunged Constantine into the middle of ecclesiastical politics earlier than might otherwise have been the case and forced him to make choices that have much to say about the type of Christianity he was prepared to support.’ 494 SD 1.17 fixes the origin at some point before the Diocletianic persecution in 303-305, although Edwards suggests that we should instead date this to 307 (see page xviii). 495 SD 1.16, see also Appendix 1.6, 1.20 and Augustine Contra Cresconium 3.33. 496 SD 1.17. The supposed letter is thought to have been directed at Maximian (Maxentius’ father), as. Barnes 1975 originally argued, 19-20; see also Edwards’ concise summary of the problem of identifying the emperor and the consequences thereof at 16 n.69. Mensurius surrender Felix; Mensurius refused, was arrested, and brought to Rome. 497 During Mensurius’ absence and probably even before news had arrived of his death, the Numidian bishops overthrew the election of a Donatus (not ‘the’ Donatus) in favor of a Silvanus. 498 In response, Silvanus’ rivals claimed that he was a traditor, someone who had handed over the scriptures during the period of persecution. 499 As this transpired in Numidia, news of Maxentius’ rise to power reached Carthage, where the church at this point still lacked a bishop. Two senior members of the Carthaginian church, Botrus and Celestius, convened a synod in the hopes of having one of the two of them elected bishop. Their designs were thwarted by the Carthaginians, who instead chose Caecilian; Caecilian was duly consecrated by bishop Felix of Abthungi. Botrus and Celestius were brought in to account for the ‘treasures’ they were responsible for safeguarding during the persecution, but they found support with Lucilla, who still resented Caecilian. Together, the three called upon Secundus Tigisis and other Numidian bishops in his circle; this group attempted to invalidate Caecilian’s election, failed to accomplish this, regrouped, and elected Majorian as bishop in opposition to Caecilian. 500 To further damage Caecilian’s legitimacy, the Donatists claimed that Felix of Abthungi was a traditor; the two sides traded insults and accusations back and forth for some 193 497 SD 1.19; What happened to him in Rome is not known, but we do know that he died before he returned to Carthage. Potter suggests that the story is more complex than this and that Mensurius’ involvements in the controversy date back to the problem of the Abitinian martyrs, discussed below ([2004] 404-405). 498 Optatus 1.19, see also Appendix 1. For the process of the election of bishops in the North African church during the time of Cyprian, see F. Decret, ‘Organization and Life of the Third-Century African Churches’ in Early Christianity in North Africa. Eugene, OR: Cascade Books 2009, 82-100 and especially 86-88. The significance of the laity to the selection of their bishop should not be overlooked; both Ambrose and Augustine write of the overwhelming role that the populace played in their promotions. They did so apparently goaded on by Secundus Tigisis, the senior bishop of Numidia, and to deliver on a large bribe. 499 The question of whether or not Silvanus was a traditor is the subject of the entirety of Appendix 1. 500 On Majorian see SD 1.10; 1.19; 7.5; Appendix 1.6. time until, after the defeat of Maxentius, Constantine and Licinius ordered that all church property be returned. 501 Both sides claimed to be the rightful owners of the church that had originally been seized under Maximian’s rule; representatives from both sides went before Anulinus the proconsul. 502 Nor was this the first time that Anulinus had been involved in the disputes of the North African Christian communities; previously he had sealed the fate of a group of martyrs. 503 The Acts of the Abitinian Martyrs preserve an opponent’s account of Anulinus’ interactions with these martyrs: he ordered them to be tortured and when this 194 501 HE 10.5.2-14; DMP 48. HE 10.5.15-17 preserves the rescript addressed to Anulinus, proconsul of Africa. There is some debate over the date of this letter and Constantine’s reference to the ‘Catholic Church’ therein. As Drake notes, ‘a date on the letter would answer many crucial questions. It would, for instance, give us a sense of how to read his reference to “the Catholic Church of the Christians.” Was this, as it sounds, an awkwardly innocent reference by someone newly introduced to the way Christians generally defined themselves? If so, then his instruction would have been a simple order to restore property seized in the persecution. But if it was something more, a specific phrase, it would suggest that Constantine already knew about, and had taken sides in, the controversy, ordering Donatist churches to be turned over to their Catholic rivals.’ ([2002] 215). 502 HE 10.5.18-20 indicates that Anulinus had kept Constantine informed of what was happening in Africa. 503 As a collection of documents, the Acts of the Abitinian Martyrs describe and document the plight of a group of Christians who consciously and directly violated Diocletian’s first edict, an act for which they were brought before Anulinus in February of 302, again pointing to an early date for the beginning of the controversy. This edict prohibited the performance of the liturgy and the assembly of Christians. The Acta are collectively concerned with the question of Mensurius’ behavior towards the imprisoned martyrs and accuse him, along with Caecilian, of having prevented supporters from visiting the martyrs as well as from bringing them food and other necessities. A fight broke out between the guards that Mensurius had posted at the prison and those who came to visit the martyrs; it is this disagreement over the issue of how to handle the martyrs that is linked to the origin of the schism. In her preface to her translation of the Acta, M .Tilley draws our attention to a contemporary law, promulgated by Licinius, that forbade sympathizers to feed those condemned to starvation in prison (25-6; see Eusebius HE 10.8.11). Given the evidence of this edict, it is possible to argue that Mensurius and Caecilian dispatched ecclesiastical guards to prevent the Abitinian supporters from getting into further trouble with secular law - thus what has been cast as an example of Catholic cruelty becomes one of protection. Regardless of the motives behind Mensurius’ and Caecilian’s actions, however, the author of the Acta has nothing nice to say about the bishop and his deacon, and the problem of the martyrs continued to be divisive in the North African church. failed to elicit their recantation he had them imprisoned. 504 Until this point, secular involvement in the dispute was limited to Anulinus’ dealings with the martyrs and then his adjudication of the disagreement between the Donatist and Caecilianist factions. In 312, however, Majorian penned two direct petitions to Constantine. In the first, he denounced Caecilian’s character and in the second he argued that Caecilian was not the legal bishop according to the precepts of church custom. The goal of his request was to secure a church council in Gaul, and he named the bishops whom he preferred to be invited. 505 Constantine granted this wish, with clear adjustments - rather than Gaul, the council was set to be held in Rome, and Constantine selected fifteen Italian bishops to hear the case. Majorian died before the council, leaving Donatus - the Donatus, this time - to present the cause of the anti-Caecilianists in Rome in September of 313. The Roman 195 504 The incarceration of these martyrs should be read alongside a council of 411, in Carthage, in which the debate is rehashed in a slightly different way. According to this document, Secundus Tigisis (the senior Numidian bishop) accused Mensurius of being a heretic, the alleged reason being that he had cooperated with the persecutors by handing over sacred books. Secundus refused to give in and instead went to prison. Mensurius’ response was to argue that he did not hand over scripture so much as heretical books, and he went on to opine that the people who had resisted the persecutors did so out of a desire to get out of paying their debts, and thus not out of religious faith and devotion. Potter argues that the overall impression one gets from the sources is that the Donatists could have brought more damning accusations but that these would have had less traction in the Roman legal system: ‘The fact that the Caecilianist faction avoided the issue of Mensurius’ conduct toward the martyrs in their tale of the event should lend credence to the tale told by his adversaries. Unfortunately for the Donatists, Mensurius’ conduct, as they described it (Act. 20.881-917, 21.957-60) also made it very difficult to assail him before a Roman magistrate: few if any imperial officials would choose to hold that a man who had supported the action of an imperial official had acted incorrectly.’ ([2004] 405) He further argues that the Caecilianists’ avoidance of the question of Mensurius’ behavior should suggest to us that it is all the more likely that there is something true behind the Donatists’ claims; moreover, if this was in fact the way that Mensurius reacted, the reaction was of such a nature as to make it ‘very difficult to assail him before a Roman magistrate’ - by handing over the books, Mensurius followed imperial orders, hardly a charge for which he would be convicted by a magistrate. In addition, the Donatists argued the Caecilian was illegally elected and a murderer, for they alleged that he also helped the persecutors. 505 SD 1.22. council ruled in favor of the Caecilianists on the basis that the Donatists had insisted on the rebaptism of Caecilian’s communicants. 506 Displeased with the verdict, Donatus again went on the offensive, this time accusing Miltiades, the bishop of Rome who presided over the council, of having been a traditor. He further encouraged the bishops aligned with the Donatist cause to ignore the council’s ruling and to stand against what he saw as Miltiades’ attempt to unify the church. 507 Constantine, however, had shown a keen interest in the outcome of the council, he supported its ruling and forbade Donatus to go back to Carthage. Despite his agreement with the council and possible anger over Donatus’ return home, Constantine nevertheless allowed for a second council to be held one year later, in Arles. 508 The emperor himself convened the council but remained absent from the proceedings, a point further evidenced by the formal letter sent by the council to the emperor detailing its verdict. Constantine responded to this letter, supported the council’s findings, and headed off an appeal that the Donatists had quickly filed with him. 509 In addition to this, he wrote two letters condemning the Donatists, both of which we shall consider in a few moments. 196 506 The issue of rebaptism might seem a bit out of place, but it does (as Potter notes) create an association with previous ecclesiastical problems in North Africa, namely here the question of rebaptism after the persecutions, fought over by, among others, Cyprian. 507 As Drake has commented, Constantine’s eventual displeasure with the Donatists could very well be explained by their opposition to unity and concord; unlike the Catholics who positively responded to Constantine’s initiatives the Donatists instead acted to subvert the very authority which they so often sought. See Drake (2002) 229-231 for a discussion of this in relation to other of Constantine’s involvements with the church in the earlier years of his reign. 508 Potter explains this allowance by suggesting that ‘it is possible that he recognized that there might be some truth to the Donatist claim that Miltiades had changed the rules on them without a warning when he had insisted that they present actual evidence in accord with Roman legal procedure.’ ([2004] 407) 509 For the letter of the bishops at Arles to Silvester in Rome, see Optatus Appendix 4; for Constantine’s heading off of the Donatists, see Appendix 5. This was not the last that Constantine would hear of the Donatists. Early in 315, they came back with documentation that they claimed proved that Felix of Abthungi, the bishop who ordained Caecilian, was a traditor, again effectively calling into question Caecilian’s legitimacy. The governor of Africa did not put much stock in what he thought to be forged documents, so the Donatists filed another complaint with Constantine. 510 From Milan in the fall of 315, Constantine again found in favor of the Caecilianists, prompting the Donatists to instigate riots in Carthage. It was at this point that Constantine seems to have lost patience with the whole business. The emperor wrote to the vicarius of Africa detailing this history of the dispute and ordered him to confiscate the Donatist churches. 511 This offensive continued for about six years until, in 321 Constantine again wrote the vicarius, this time to convey the sentiment that vengeance should be left to God, and so washed his hands of the entire affair. A letter from Constantine to the Numidian bishops in February 330 marks the last document implicating the emperor in the continuing schism. 512 Optatus’ text is primarily occupied with the theological debates and events that led to the Donatist schism. Throughout the seven books we find references to and explications of the various points of difference between the Catholics (Caecilianists) and the Donatists, particularly on the point of baptism. Despite Optatus’ focus on the religious grounds for the problem, however, there is an equally important emphasis on the source or origin of judgment. This is most frequently presented as a discussion about the question of the appropriate judge for this theological, ecclesiastical argument. Optatus formulates his criticism of the Donatists by stressing the fact that they sought public, secular, Roman 197 510 See Optatus Appendix 7 for Constantine’s response, with discussion in Drake (2002) 220-221. 511 Optatus Appendix 9. 512 The letter is discussed below, pages 220-222; the Numidians, while undoubtedly not without some involvement or interest in the schism throughout its history were not aligned with the Donatists. courts, tribunals, and channels in and through which to lodge their complaints and mediate the dispute. His pointed attack of the Donatists on these grounds leads him to build a case in favor of the view that such matters should be left to God’s judgement and discretion, in support of which claim he brings in multiple references to Old Testament texts and enters into not a few discussions of the nature and identity of the Law. Optatus writes that it would not even have been necessary to address the Donatists at all, had they not made the accusation that the Catholics had ‘requested military force’ against them. 513 This is a charge that Optatus repeats in the third book of his treatise, where he refutes the accusation by chronicling how, first, there were no troops in the proconsular province and, second, that it was the Donatists themselves who brought about turmoil and sought secular intervention. Optatus further alleges that the Donatist bishops wrote to Taurinus, the ‘count,’ in an effort to have the Catholic bishops chastised and corrected. 514 It was this initiative, writes Optatus, that necessitated the importation of armed military forces - thus the very thing that the Donatists accused the Catholics of having perpetrated is that which they themselves caused to happen. 515 Nor is this a sentiment that Optatus limits to 198 513 SD 1.5: Denique non omnia te video dixisse contra catholicam : imo multa pro catholica, cum catholicus non sis, ut et nobis necesse non fuerit respondere tractatibus tuis: nisi, quod dum male instructus es, ut quod non vidisti, sed falso audieris, loquereris, cum in epistola Petri Apostoli legerimus: Nolite per opinionem iudicare fratres vestros (Jacobi IV , 11): ut inter aliqua, quae ad nos non pertinent (sicuti probaturi sumus) diceres, a nobis contra vos militem fuisse postulatum. See also Book 3 for the events and actions to which Optatus refers in this charge. 514 SD 3.4: Unde cum vestrae partis episcopis tunc invidia fieret: Taurino tunc comiti scripsisse dicuntur, huiusmodi homines corrigi in Ecclesia non posse: mandaverunt, ut a supra dicto comite acciperent disciplinam. 515 That the Donatists are represented as having smeared the Catholics by maintaining that they called upon military reinforcements, and that Optatus twice counters that this was not in fact the case suggests that the act of seeking external (that is, external to the church) aid in fighting ecclesiastical battles was a point of contention for both parties. Optatus certainly had enough on which to base his accusations given the theological differences between the groups; that he raised a possible initiative on the Donatists’ part is worth our attention. Optatus’ handling of the situation is equally significant: not only is this Donatist action said to have led to violence and further problems, but it provides him with one point on which the Catholics are both superior to and able to refute the Donatists. In his view, petitions made on behalf of the church (whether Donatist or Catholic) ought to be made to a specific figure within the ecclesiastical setting. his discussion of pleas for military aid. He frequently criticizes the Donatists for bringing an ecclesiastical matter to a secular judge or court. In the sixth book, for example, Optatus accosts his opponents by writing that they ‘have often thought it right to use secular tribunals and public laws to snatch away the instruments of the divine law through the executive power of officials.’ 516 A plea to a secular tribunal is doubly problematic: not only does it indicate that the plaintiff (as it were) entered the plea with full knowledge of its weakness, but it also transposes an ecclesiastical problem from its proper setting, putting judgment in the hands of an unqualified judge. Optatus further alleges that God was angry over the schism, and he attempts to meet the Donatists on what he perceives as their level: that of secular law. 517 In taking up the issue of the Donatist records, Optatus mocks their validity as well as the Donatists’ litigiousness. If the Donatists, he writes, want to make this an argument about forensic 199 516 SD 6.5: Et illud praetermittere nequeo, quod nec Deo est placitum, nec a vestris cultoribus excusari, nec ab aliquo homine defendi potest. Per iudicia saecularia et leges publicas, divinae legis instrumenta, executione officiorum a plurimis extorquenda esse duxistis : volentes soli habere, quod pax in commune possederat. See also Constantine’s remarks at Appendix 5. Optatus’ argument is that even if the pagan ‘executive’ is incapable of ignoring the atrocity of the Donatists’ crimes, he remains unable to fully understand their implications or properly adjudicate. There is likewise an insinuation that the Donatists knew that they would have been rejected had they appealed to an ecclesiastical court. 517 SD 1.21, where God is angry ‘with great anger’: Igitur Deus pro neglectis mandatis suis iratus est ira magna, et quod in sacrilegos et parricidam non fecerat, in schismaticos fecit. Optatus is recalling the Old Testament account of God’s wrath at Dathan, Abiram, and Korah, to be discussed below, but he fully intended this to resonate with the contemporary schism. For Optatus, God the judge is a figure perfectly capable of getting angry. As much as Optatus uses the examples of Moses and other to illustrate that God does not get angry in certain situations, he invokes other stories to establish the precedent for God’s anger as part of his judgment. Through a series of quotations meant to show the specific injunctions that the Donatists have violated, Optatus holds that ‘God in his sorrow declares his anger against’ the Donatists. (SD 3.2; the inclusion of ‘sorrow’ is an interesting turn; Lactantius and others likely would not have agreed with the attribution of this ‘weak’ emotion to God.) With the exception of the idea of the relationship between sorrow and anger, this formulation of God’s justice and judgment is not altogether different from that which we find in Lactantius, though in Optatus’ text it is buttressed by its connection to a specific series of events and a specific set of offenders. Both thinkers maintain that God has anger, yet each defends this claim in different ways. Indeed, for Optatus, God’s wrath is something that does not even necessitate explanation: it is a given, proven by the texts of the Old Testament, and something that he invokes as a rhetorical tool in his argument against the Donatists. What is in De ira Dei abstract and removed, esoteric and philosophical, becomes in Optatus a legitimate means by which to support a call for divine rather than human judgment. records, then they ought to take into account Constantine’s response to their initial petition for a council to be held in Gaul, a portion of which he quotes in the text. 518 According to Optatus, Constantine replied with ‘extreme acerbity’ (pleno livore). The Donatists are represented as hostile to the Catholics, presumably for their relationship with the imperial government, and Optatus quotes them as retorting ‘what have Christians to do with kings? Or what have bishops to do with the palace?’. 519 Absolutely nothing, writes Optatus, also claiming that the Catholic petitions to the emperor(s) were made only out of the necessity of having to respond to the motives and allegations of the Donatists. 520 Optatus’ explication of this point is sometimes merely stated and elaborated upon; he tells his interlocutor that these were matters that should have been brought before ‘God’s tribunal,’ that it is fit for ‘God to know the criminal,’ that the judge should be sought ‘in heaven,’ and that since they have broken the ‘divine law,’ a Christian, and not a secular, response is necessary. 521 In other cases, it is supported by the typological invocation of passages culled from the Old Testament scriptures. 522 That God should be the judge of doctrinal and theological matters is a claim that Optatus supports by drawing upon biblical examples of judgment 200 518 SD 1.23, which includes a misquotation of Constantine’s words as they appear in Appendix 5. 519 SD 1.22, one of the most concise manifestations of Optatus’ disagreement over the Donatist attempts to seek secular and imperial intervention in the affair. The portion of the petition that he quotes here has also received some scholarly attention: its authors seek judges from Gaul because it was immune (immunis est) from this outrage (facinus). It is unclear whether the facinus was persecution or the schism itself; Barnes (1975) argues for the latter in opposition to many who argue for the former. The questions posed in the mouth of Optatus’ opposition are directly attributed to Donatus at 3.3 and are reminiscent of similar questions posed by, for example, Tertullian in De Praecriptionibus Haereticorum 7 (Quid ergo Athenis et Hierosolymis?). 520 SD 1.28. By so doing, he quickly removes the Catholics from any blame for having sought imperial guidance, which they often did. 521 SD 2.5; 4.1; 5.3; and 6.5. 522 Optatus’ use of the Old Testament in this way is similar to the methods employed by his North African predecessors, particularly Tertullian and Cyprian. Tilley sees the use of scripture as crucial to the development of the schism, finding Cyprian’s use of the Old Testament as a significant influence on the Donatist formulations of the problems of martyrdom and baptism. See ‘Donatist Predecessors’ in Tilley, 18-52. fulfilled as well as contemporary events that speak to the ruling of divine judgment. Of the former kind, Optatus is fond of an analogy drawn from the book of Numbers. In this story, three Israelites, Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, along with two hundred and fifty supporters, attempt a rebellion against Moses and Aaron. 523 Moses, aggrieved, instructs the three ringleaders to show up at the door of the tabernacle the next day, along with the multitude of their contingent, and the group decides to let God be the judge of who should or should not properly hold the priesthood(s) and thus wield power over the Israelites. When everyone arrives the following day, God instructs Moses and Aaron to leave the area so that he can ‘consume’ Korah, Dathan, and Abiram and all of their comrades. After Moses tells the opposing group that his legitimacy as ruler will be sanctified by God’s intervention, the ground opens up and swallows the three ringleaders, their families and supporters, whole. This story gives Optatus a way of articulating both the nature of the crimes that he alleges the Donatists have committed as well as how such crimes should be judged. He makes the association clear in the sixth book, exhorting the Donatists to ‘take care that you do not descend to the nether regions and find there the schismatics Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, who are obviously your masters.’ 524 On the one hand, Optatus furnishes little proof that the Catholics properly can be said to be the legitimate representatives of God, or that their church expounds the correct interpretation of faith and practice. On the other hand, that the Donatists are schismatics who follow in the tradition of the original schismatics in Numbers serves as a theme by which Optatus, through his defamation of the opposition, attempts to establish the superiority of his own position. The most important moral of the 201 523 Numbers 16; Optatus quotes or references this account at 1.21 and 6.1. 524 SD 6.1. account consistently is that theological, ecclesiastical matters should be brought before God for judgment. 525 These claims, along with others that Optatus makes in his seventh book, drive to the heart of the schism: the dispute is fundamentally one about the interpretation and adjudication of the law. The law in its Jewish and Christian forms is something that transcends the physical and the human, it cannot perish. 526 Thus Optatus avers that there would have been no penalty for those who were forced to surrender the books of the law - 202 525 This point appears already at 2.25, where Optatus writes of ‘God’s tribunal.’ If one pays attention, Optatus also argues, it is possible to see evidence that God’s judgment has already been imparted on the questions dividing the Catholics and Donatists. Writing about the Donatists’ actions during the reign of Julian the Apostate, Optatus maintains that the Donatist appeal to the emperor for readmission into the world of the African church lent a whole new fervor to their impiety. See SD 2.16-17, where Optatus adopts a tone of mockery: the Donatists should find little reassurance in the fact that their appeals for religious freedom found currency with Julian since he was, after all, the same emperor that ‘commanded the idols’ temples to be opened.’ He finds this to have included a number of atrocities, literal and figural, among which Optatus counts the ‘mutilating the limbs of the church,’ murder, forced exile, and the destruction of (physical) churches (SD 2.17). Yet in this too Optatus finds evidence for the judgment of God, which punished the Donatists by allowing for the death of Julian, that ‘profane and sacrilegious emperor. A little bit later, Optatus offers another sign of divine judgment: having catalogued the heinous misdeeds of the Donatist bishops against Catholic clergy and congregations, Optatus writes that they (the Donatist bishops) ordered for the eucharist wine to be poured out for dogs. The dogs, ‘inflamed with madness,’ turned on their masters; their deranged behavior is meant to be understood both as analogous to that of the Donatists and as a sign of what can happen when the divine law is broken. See SD 2.19; Optatus attributes this madness to the fact that the Donatists had not ‘kept in memory the injunctions of Christ, who says, ‘Do not give what is holy to the dogs, and do not throw your pearls before pigs, lest they should trample them under their feet and turning round attack you.’ It is worth noting that the Donatist bishops’ impiety transferred to the sacrament and through the sacrament to the dogs; the implication is that it their sacrilege can likewise befoul their congregations. 526 Optatus has a great deal to say about that divine law, especially in the seventh book of the treatise. He begins by providing the Donatists with a different way of thinking about the act of handing over the scripture, itself an infraction of the law, and as we recall, a problem that arose during the persecutions. In short, Optatus argues that the fact that one is compelled to commit an evil act removes any blame; if people had voluntarily handed over the law, the verdict would be punishable. Optatus focuses greater energy on defending the position that the law is something in a way abstract and ethereal - its physical, written form is something human and susceptible to destruction, but its source (God) cannot perish and thus the law itself cannot perish, even if its incarnation does. This is a claim that frequently is repeated in, for example, the Acts of the Abitinian Martyrs, in response to questions about whether or not the law (which is to say, scripture) has been turned over to the persecutors, an individual will often say that it does not matter, for the law is inscribed in his or her heart (recalling 2 Corinthians 3:2-3). To underscore the point, Optatus discusses the example of Moses’ breaking of the tablets of the Law in Numbers. God’s lack of anger against Moses illustrates that the law ‘remained sound in God, even after it had been shattered by a human being with tablets of stone,’ and that further, the possible loss or destruction of the physical law prompted God to inscribe the law ‘in the very inner man, that is in the mind and heart of every single believer’ (SD 7.1; Optatus also uses this argument in part to excuse Donatists’ predecessors’ actions and invite current schismatics back into the fold.). to surrender is not the same as surrendering one’s belief in God. 527 The Donatists’ initial failure to interpret the problem this way was the original source of their error. It is because of its theological nature that the case should be brought before ‘God’s tribunal,’ and not the courts of the Roman empire. The view that Optatus espouses has parallels in late republican and early imperial conceptions of how properly to manage cases involving religious offense. As John Scheid has shown, judges, magistrates, and emperors declined to prosecute various types of religious offense and instead left such matters to be appropriately adjudicated by the divinities themselves. 528 To demonstrate the validity of this claim, Scheid analyzes a series of cases culled from Roman literature and law, dividing the evidence into two categories: those offenses which are ‘internal’ to Roman religion and those that are crimes against religion. The former category consists of the types of infractions that might be committed during a religious activity by anyone involved in that activity; the latter includes behaviors or attitudes that the Romans would have regarded as direct assaults on religion itself. 529 In both types of case, the offense is reformulated as a crime that was committed against the city itself and the 203 527 Lactantius, at least, would agree with this view. In his Epitome of the Divinae Institutiones, he argues that one cannot find fault with those who were compelled to sacrifice to the pagan deities (rather than face death) because did so out of necessity did not do so voluntarily and as soon as possible thereafter returned to the love and worship of God (54). 528 The earlier and lengthier presentation of this argument is in John Scheid, ‘Le délit religieux dans la Rome tardo-républicaine.’ Le délit religieux dans la cité antique. CÉFR 48. Rome: École française de Rome 1981, 117-169, although portions of the argument are incorporated in Scheid’s later piece, ‘Oral Tradition and Written Tradition in the Formation of Sacred Law in Rome,’ in C. Ando and J. Rüpke (eds.), Religion and Law in Classical and Christian Rome. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag 2006, 14-33. 529 Scheid (1981) 120. method of adjudication is cast in terms of public law. 530 The kind of specific offense committed by a recalcitrant priest thus was refashioned not as a religious crime but rather as a violation of the duties required of that priest; the persecution of the Christians is explained as a reaction against the Christian refusal to partake in traditionally Roman cult and practices, a rejection which is equated with high treason. 531 Three expressions of this idea of particular importance to Scheid’s argument are likewise relevant to our inquiry. The first is the account given by Tacitus at Annals 1.73-4, wherein Tiberius is said to refrain from indicting Rubrius for having committed perjury against the deified Augustus: To Rubrius the crime imputed was violation of the deity of Augustus by perjury. When the facts came to the knowledge of Tiberius, he wrote to the consuls that place in heaven had not been decreed to his father in order that the honour might be turned to the destruction of his countrymen. Cassius, the actor, with others of his trade, had regularly taken part in the games which his own mother had consecrated to the memory of Augustus; nor was it an act of sacrilege, if the effigies of that sovereign, like other images of other gods, went with the property, whenever a house or garden was sold. As to the perjury, it was on the same footing as if the defendant had taken the name of Jupiter in vain: the gods must look to their own wrongs. 532 204 530 Scheid (2006) 31, where it is succinctly put: ‘We notice that the traditional settlement of offences against the immortals depends on the same ideology of the city. The priests and magistrates lay hands on the presumed guilty person, and check the degree of his guilt before handing the noxium caput over to divine vengeance. In other words, the temporal authority comes between a mortal and an immortal, deferring the divine right to vengeance while they rationally assess if divine revenge is justified. The offence itself is like all other offences: an injury to the prestige or the property of the gods. It is an external, material offence, such as one can commit against other citizens.’ 531 Scheid (1981) 129 and 163-6, where the finer point about the Christians is stated at 165: Il est par ailleurs intéressant de noter que la culpabilité ne consistait pas tant dans le refus de sacrifier que dans les intentions que ce refus révélait: ce n’étaient pas les dieux qui étaient offensés, mais la cité. La culpabilité individuelle n’était d’ailleurs pas envisagée sous l’angle des délits commis par un chacun, mais sous celui de l’adhésion à une communauté criminelle. 532 Translation from Loeb Classical Library, Volume 249 (Histories Books IV-V , Annals Books I-III). Harvard University Press, 1931. 1.73: Rubrio crimini dabatur violatum periurio numen Augusti. quae ubi Tiberio notuere, scripsit consulibus non ideo decretum patri suo caelum, ut in perniciem civium is honor verteretur. Cassium histrionem solitum inter alios eiusdem artis interesse ludis, quos mater sua in memoriam Augusti sacrasset; nec contra religiones fieri quod effigies eius, ut alia numinum simulacra, venditionibus hortorum et domuum accedant. ius iurandum perinde aestimandum quam si Iovem fefellisset: deorum iniurias dis curae. Scheid reads this anecdote as consistent with the views of those who came both before and after Tacitus (the second and third expressions of the idea). 533 Looking to the republic, Scheid cites the parallel opinion of Cicero who in De Legibus 2.9.22 draws a distinction between human and divine punishment; in Cicero’s words the gods’ ‘punishment for perjury is destruction, for humans, infamy.’ 534 Both Cicero’s and Tacitus’ description of the sorts of offenses appropriate to human and divine punishment are identifiable in a principle articulated in the Codex Iustinianus, where Severus Alexander’s statement that vengeance should be left to the gods is quoted (iurisiurandi contempta religio satis deum ultorem habet. periculum autem corporis vel maiestatis crimen secundum constituta divorum parentum meorum, etsi per principis venerationem quodam calore fuerit periuratum, inferri non placet). 535 In contrast to those who have interpreted this evidence as indicative of trends of either the increasing decadence of or the decreasing regard for divinities in Roman religion, Scheid suggests that they are instead representative of a specific and enduring practice, namely that ‘divine vengeance was never converted into a legal procedure to be settled in human courts.’ 536 He goes on to link this belief in the necessity for deities to enforce the divine law and to punish infractions thereof to the Roman conception of the city and the relationship of the gods thereto. One facet of this argument is that a religious offense could only be conceived in terms of the community. The preservation of the pax deorum depended on the collective group and excluded a deep concern for individual piety, when this pact was 205 533 Scheid (2006) 22. 534 2.22: Periurii poena divina exitium, humana dedecus esto. 535 CJ.4.1.2. 536 Scheid (2006) 30; cf. the conclusions reached at (1981) 166. broken the ira deorum would fall on the community in its entirety. 537 When such an offense was committed, it was treated as a civic crime and its punishment was mediated by civic institutions. 538 Thus, as Scheid writes, the use of the adjective ‘religious’ in the consideration of these offenses is inaccurate: as crimes ‘of the public order’ they were neither envisioned as nor prosecuted as concerned with religious affairs. 539 When a crime truly was religious in nature, its punishment was understood to be undertaken by the god or gods against whom the offense was committed. Scheid is careful to note that his argument is meant to apply only to late republican and early imperial Rome; he draws a distinction between the kinds of issues that existed for Romans operating within a religious system that lacked the idea of personal revelation or a core text. 540 Yet as we have seen Optatus upheld (as did Constantine) this traditional opinion concerning the appropriate adjudication of religious affairs. If there existed any appropriate human institutions for the handling of such matters in the Christian context, only the episcopal and ecclesiastical courts and councils could appropriately mediate disputes between Christians. As Constantine himself avers, the bishops are essentially representatives of God on earth, and as such (and as theoretically pure of heart and free from ulterior motives) are the appropriate channels through which religious and theological disputes 206 537 Scheid (1981) 130 with 167, where he writes that the ethical component exists solely in relation to the preservation of the city: Les liens religieux métaphysiques entre humains et dieux sont exclusivement du ressort de la communauté. C’est dans sa piété que l’on trouve la notion de pureté d’intention, c’est son salut qu’assure la piété; c’est elle aussi qui commet, identifie et expie le délit religieux, c’est entre elle et les dieux que la pax est rompue le cas échéant, c’est elle qui pâtit de la colère divine. (His emphasis.) 538 Scheid (1981) 131-4 (with 166-7); the example discussed here is that of Clodius, whose ‘religious offense’ was refashioned in a politically convenient way. 539 Scheid (1981) 166. 540 Scheid (1981) 120 and (2006) 32; the Christian-centered perspective of other scholars’ work on this topic is another issue with which Scheid is concerned in both articles. should be debated and settled. 541 In the instance of the Donatist schism, Constantine eventually moves away from this position and, whether due to his lack of interest or his inability to effect any change in the matter, he assigns judgment to God. Another way of understanding the emperor’s continually shifting response to the Donatist and Catholic appeals for his intervention, however, is as a manifestation of a specific facet of imperial power. As the emperor, Constantine was meant to adhere to a set of guidelines governing his conduct in the role of judge. As a Christian, the extent to which those guidelines still applied or to which they changed and in which contexts were questions that had yet to be determined. One’s model for the Christian God becomes of paramount importance to this question and it is in this contemporary issue that we identify the force of Lactantius’ argument in De ira Dei. It would be in no way unusual for Constantine, as Roman emperor, to have around and among him a cohort of advisers and confidants. Lactantius would have been one of several individuals whose role was to aid the emperor on various matters. 542 The emperor was clearly in contact with members of the episcopal hierarchy and gave special attention to 207 541 Appendix 9. 542 The degree to which Constantine used Lactantius as a rhetorical mouthpiece for imperial ideology, if at all, has also been a debate that continues, in various forms, in scholarship. Barnes’ objective in his essay is to show that the relationship between rhetor and emperor ‘has often been misunderstood’ (Barnes [1973], 42). Through a discussion of the possible dates for the composition of the DMP , Barnes ultimately settles on the fall of 314, and certainly no later than the winter of 315. The greater point he then demonstrates is that contrary to what many have argued, Lactantius cannot be shown to have been an imperial spokesman, spouting the propaganda that Constantine would have liked to distribute. A sense of collaboration, particularly with respect to the Divinae Institutiones, between Lactantius and Constantine has been suggested by others, notably Elizabeth Digeser and Harold Drake, and later modified by some, like Jeremy Schott. the views of specific individuals. 543 By taking on the role of theological adviser, Lactantius took part in a tradition that stretched back to classical antiquity and would continue through the early Medieval period; his texts should thus be read with careful attention paid to themes regarding not only correct theology but also those that resonated with matters of contemporary social and political import. Peter Brown’s work on the effects of a common paideia that would link these individuals both with each other and with the emperor, particularly in the eastern portion of the empire, offers a helpful way of thinking about the kinds of relationships between emperor and adviser. 544 He argues that one of the most important components of such bonds was that each side relied on the ‘same code’ in their dealings with one another, a phenomenon which itself allowed for a ‘safe’ and ‘predictable’ interaction: if the author of a letter, for example, follows a prescribed method of articulating his requests, then its recipient will be forced to comply and reply accordingly. 545 This stricture of formality and procedure in turn reflects the necessity of preserving an over- arching atmosphere of decorum, wherein all parties were expected to behave according to a 208 543 Evidence for the effect of Lactantius’ thought on Constantine’s understanding of Christianity, especially in his Oratio ad Sanctos, is a subject that has garnered some attention in scholarship on both the emperor and the theologian. For a representative selection of studies of Lactantius’ influence on Constantine, see E. Digeser, The Making of a Christian Empire: Lactantius and Rome. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2000; Heim; Barnes 1973; A. Bolthuis, ‘Die Rede Konstantins des Grossen an die Versammlung der Heiligen und Lactantius’ Divinae Institutiones,’ VC 10 (1956) 25-32; and M.J. Edwards, ‘The Arian Heresy and the Oration to the Saints,’ VC 49.3 (1995) 379-387. More recent scholarship takes such a relationship for granted, although the trend has been to understand it more as a give-and-take and less as a system in which Lactantius is merely a spokesman and propagandist for the emperor. Evidence for this view is often drawn from DMP and the Divinae Institutiones, although surprisingly little has been said about De ira Dei, a subject which we shall take up below. 544 P. Brown, Power and Persuasion in Late Antiquity: Towards a Christian Empire. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1992, especially 35-70. For a perspective on this relationship in the Christian tradition, see also R. Kaster, ‘Polished Speech, The Common Good, and Christianity’ in Guardians of Language: the Grammarians and Society in Late Antiquity. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1988, 70-95. That rhetoric and oratory played important roles in Christian texts of apology and advice (and in the ecclesiastical courtroom) is discussed and reformulated in C. Humfress, Orthodoxy and the Courts in Late Antiquity. Oxford University Press, 2007. The ‘Introduction and Background’ (135-152) to the second part of the volume is particularly helpful as a review of the literature and developments in the scholarship to date. 545 Brown (1992) 42. set program of behaviors that included elements of correct speech, gesture, and demeanor. 546 Anger had no part in the ideal of composure to which a member of the elite and the ruling class, no less an emperor, was meant to aspire and conform. As Brown puts it, ‘rather than give way to incoherent rage, public figures were expected to compose themselves as carefully as they composed their speeches.’ 547 He continues: “Anger” was the antithesis to a harmonious and controlled mode of public action. Anger, indeed, emerged as a central component in the language of late Roman politics. It meant, on occasion, the sudden, shameful collapse of self-restraint, associated with a public outburst of rage. ... Either form of anger was held to constitute a serious breach of decorum. It carried a stigma. ... By treating anger as a failure in decorum, those who commented on the politics of their time discreetly emphasized a principle of reversibility in an otherwise relentless system. For anger was a passion of the soul that the upright man could regret. Anger might be cooled. ... The counterpart of anger was clemency. 548 One role of the imperial adviser was to help to control such outbursts with an eye towards helping the emperor behave as properly and perhaps as equitably as possible, even if only in appearance. This ‘politics of decorum,’ as Brown puts it, was important both in shaping an imperial persona that could mask the harsh realities of governance and in providing a framework or discourse through which members of the elite could attempt to exert some influence over the emperor. The expectations imposed by such rules of formality and presentation worked both ways: the same etiquette required of the emperor was likewise required of the various officials and officers under his control. 209 546 Brown (1992) 49-52. 547 Brown (1992) 50. 548 Brown (1992) 54-55; on the place of anger in political personas, see also W . Harris, ‘Restraining the Angry Ruler,’ in Restraining Rage: The Ideology of Anger Control in Classical Antiquity. Harvard University Press 2001, 229-265, and for later examples, G. Althoff ‘Ira Regis: Prolegomena to a History of Royal Anger,’ in B. Rosenwein (ed.) Anger’s Past: The Social Uses of an Emotion. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1998, 59-74 (the three other items in this section of the book, ‘Kings and Emperors,’ 59-126, are also illuminating). At the same time, these social rules could restrict advisers: when political standing and imperial favor were at stake, one had to be careful not to overstep one’s bounds. While this system could allow for the regulation of discourse, it could not guarantee any freedom of speech. 549 This privilege, Brown argues, eventually was reserved to the philosopher, whose ‘freedom from society,’ by virtue of his detachment from all things worldly - political ambitions, financial gain, etc. - made him uniquely qualified to address and have an effect upon the emperor. Although the ideal expressed here might not have existed any longer by the fourth century, the presence of a philosopher-adviser was a feature of the imperial court throughout the period; Brown goes on to contend that these philosophers ‘enjoyed an almost total monopoly of access to the imperial government for most of the fourth century.’ 550 We might think of the earlier examples of Seneca and Nero, Metrodorus of Skepsis and Mithradates of Pontos, and Arius Didymus and Augustus, as well as of the later examples of Themistius, who served in this capacity during the reigns of six different emperors, and of Ambrose, who played a particular role during the rule of Theodosius. 551 Along with these ideas of decorum came the sense that the Christian emperor should act as a representative of God on earth: divinely appointed to his rule, the emperor 210 549 Brown (1992) 61. 550 Brown (1992) 70. 551 Themistius flourished under Constantius II, Julian, Jovian, Valens, Gratian, and Theodosius 1. We shall briefly consider Ambrose at a later point; for a study that expands upon the evidence discussed in Brown, see J. Vanderspoel, Themistius and the Imperial Court: Oratory, Civic Duty, and Paideia from Constantius to Theodosius. University of Michigan Press, 1995. For an account of how the adviser-emperor relationship was negotiated in the decades after Constantine, see the study by Neil McLynn, especially ‘Ambrose and Theodosius,’ in Ambrose of Milan: Church and Court in a Christian Capital. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press 1994, 291-360. should seek to embody the beneficent qualities of the supreme god. 552 The panegyrics that honored the late Roman emperors consistently focused on the gentler qualities of the emperor, including his mercy, patience, and clemency, as those elements of his character that reflect both his devotion to God as well as God’s favor of him. When challenges to this representation such as the necessity of war and the use of violence arose they were tactfully avoided or glossed by those praising the emperor; the same can be said for angry outbursts, which could be fashioned as ‘breaks’ from the emperor’s usual calm demeanor or opportunities for the emperor to show clemency. Given not only what we know about the theological tradition but also about contemporary social concerns about the appropriateness of anger and especially the perceived connection between the divine and imperial figures, it is all the more interesting that Lactantius so strongly advocates divine anger. We should be careful to remember that for Lactantius, God’s anger is just and employed for the restraining of faults, rather than the intemperate rage that characterizes unjust anger. Although humans are more prone to experience the latter kind due to their inferior nature and composition, they should nevertheless aspire to use just anger when they need to correct those within their power. It is in this parallel, best expressed through the analogy of the master and slaves, that we are most able to see how Lactantius’ message about divine anger can be understood in the mortal realm: if God is our master and we his slaves in the eternal sphere, then the emperor 211 552 Eusebius is one proponent of this view and his articulation of the idea can be found across his corpus. As noted above, this was a concept very much rooted in the Classical Roman tradition; the Christian adoption of that tradition, however, often went beyond the trope and saw the Christian emperor as God’s representative and instrument on earth. It is one thing to envision the emperor as divinely blessed and his appointment divinely sanctioned, but quite another to imagine that he is accomplishing God’s work and will in his political and ecclesiastical dealings. is likewise our master in the temporal sphere. 553 If anger is necessary for the correction of faults and the maintenance of order then it should be just as important for the emperor to employ as it is for God. The Christian emperor is, however, in a liminal space: his temporal power is something granted to him by God and he himself is a slave to God, thus while he should be angry when he sees laws broken and when he is offended or disobeyed by his subjects, he has a responsibility not to offend or disobey God. Two systems of law are in effect, each with their own procedure for adjudication. On the one hand, human laws are in place to regulate human affairs, when an infraction is committed the offender is brought before a judge, the executor of the laws. On the other hand, the divine law was established by God, in part to serve as a set of guidelines for human conduct, but more so to form the basis of religion, which for Lactantius is the worship of God. 554 It is this tension that Optatus sought to exploit through his criticisms of the Donatists for seeking secular judgement and that Constantine initially sought to avoid by convening the council of Rome in 313. Each system of law, divine and secular, had its own respective judge, whose capacity to fulfill his role depended on the laws that have been broken by the offender, and of which the judge was the executor, nothing more and nothing less. The figure of the judge is one that receives a fair amount of attention in De ira Dei. In the temporal sphere the judge is the executor of the laws, the person responsible for 212 553 Ingremeau identifies the analogy as resting on the identification of God as the paterfamilias (35) and emphasizes the importance of an understanding of God as father to Lactantius’ treatise. While she is correct to draw upon Lactantius’ use of this figure, he is more focused on the power dynamic in relationships; it is not simply that we as God-fearing mortals are children of God (and/or children of the emperor), but rather that we are slaves to each, we are in their power and subject to their will and judgment. 554 In contrast to his lengthy and often circular descriptions of what constitutes the proper worship of God in the Divinae Institutiones and De ira Dei, at the Epitome 56, Lactantius is clear: true religion and true worship of God are found in justice, and it is to justice that all men should aspire. ensuring that the letter of the law has been upheld and enforced to the best of his knowledge. It also serves as another interesting point of disagreement between Lactantius and his imaginary interlocutors. Those who ‘endeavor to extirpate anger’ maintain, he writes, that if the judge is angry it is only insofar as the laws have been broken and he is responsible for them; when it comes time to sentence the guilty to punishment, however, he ‘ought to be of a sedate mind.’ 555 ‘They’ would argue that the judge’s anger is something that he employs as part of his office, but not something that arises from within himself - in Lactantius’ formulation, the philosophers think that the judge’s removal from the offender justifies his anger because in the end, it is not really anger but the performance of anger. It is not so much an emotion as the playing of a role. Lactantius adopts a different position: the judge’s removal from the offender is the only thing that could justify the fact that the judge cannot get angry at those who disobey the law. When the guilty are in our power, we have a responsibility to discipline them and for that purpose to be incited to anger; because the judge is merely an arm of the law he can maintain some degree of distance and disinterest. 556 This idea is developed across three chapters of the treatise (17-19), as Lactantius supports his argument for the centrality of anger to the correction of faults by showing that the knowledge of wrong-doing necessitates anger: What need is there, they say, of anger, since faults can be corrected without this emotion? But there is no one who can calmly see someone committing an offense. Perhaps he who presides over the laws could do it, since the crime is not committed before his eyes, but is reported to him as a doubtful matter from another person. Nor can there ever be a crime so apparent that there is no place for a defense; and 213 555 ID 17.16a: Non dico de his qui adversum leges peccant: quibus etsi iudex sine crimine irasci potest, fingamus tamen eum sedato animo esse debere cum subicit poenae nocentem, quia legum sit minister, non animi aut potestatis suae; sic enim colunt qui iram conantur evellere. 556 ID 17.16b: Sed de his potissimum dico qui sunt nostrae potestatis, ut servi, ut liberi, ut coniunges, ut discipuli: quos cum delinquere videmus, incitamur ad coercendum. thus it could be that the judge is not moved against one who could be found innocent; and when the revealed crime will have come to light, the opinion of the laws, and not his own, is employed. It may be conceded that he does what he does without anger - for he has that which he may follow. 557 In this iteration of the idea, the possibility of innocence is another factor that can contribute to the judge’s potential ‘unmoved’ response to the presentation of an offender. Even when guilt is apparent, the judge may still not be incited to anger because, as Lactantius earlier presented it, he functions as an arm of the law and has no personal investment in it. Personal, individual relevance and significance are important concepts in Lactantius’ idea of the place of anger. Again and again, he emphasizes the point that the person who holds power over an offender, or in whose possession the offender remains, cannot but be angry when an offense is committed against them. In doing so, he runs the risk of returning to the idea of anger as a means of revenge for an injury, an idea which he was so careful to avoid in delineating his own definition of (just) anger. The invocation of the law gives Lactantius a means by which to avoid stepping into this trap, however, at least when it comes to the divine sphere. Whereas the human judge is below the law and a servant of it, as the divine judge, God is both creator and enforcer of his law. Lactantius works this out by thinking about the ability to pardon: while the judge cannot pardon offenses because he is ‘subject to the will of another,’ God can, ‘because he himself is the arbitrator and judge of his own law.’ 558 What is usually presented as a matter of personal injury is refashioned as 214 557 ID 18.1-2: Quid opus est, inquiunt, ira, cum sine hoc adfectu peccata corrigi possint? Atquin nullus est qui peccantem possit videre transquille. Possit fortasse qui legibus praesidet, quia facinus non sub oculis eius admittitur sed defertur aliunde tamquam dubium. Nec umquam potest scelus esse tam clarum ut defensioni locus non sit, et ideo potest iudex non moveri adversum eum qui potest innocens inveniri, cumque detectum facinus in lucem venerit, iam non sua sed legum sententia utitur. Sed potest concedi ut sine ira faciat quod facit - habet enim quod sequatur.... 558 ID 19.9: Iudex peccatis dare non potest veniam, qui voluntati servit alienae, deus autem potest, quia ipse est legis suae disceptator et iudex; quam cum poneret, non utique ademit sibi omnem potestatem sed habet ignoscendi licentiam. one having to do with possession. It is not that God is injured (and thus angry) when someone breaks the divine law because he sees it as a personal affront, but that because the divine law is his law, and because there is no one greater than God to whom he could be held responsible, the infraction is intrinsically committed by someone who is within God’s power and jurisdiction. God’s identity as the supreme judge is not the only role that he has, but rather, for Lactantius, one that comes to him by virtue of the fact that he is the administrator of the world, the overseer of all human affairs, and the most supreme deity. It is in this capacity that God is most comparable to the emperor: both are construed as the highest rulers in their respective realms, both are saddled with the responsibility of government, and both wield the greatest possible power over their respective subjects. This analogy is hinted at throughout the text in Lactantius’ discussions of the necessity of fear, whether it be in relation to anger, to religion, to government, or to one’s superior. Fear is something that Lactantius thinks is crucial to one’s belief in, or perhaps more properly one’s worship of, God. He stresses this idea early on in the treatise, remarking that if God is not angry with those who do not worship him, then no one will fear him, and that no one will respect God if they do not think that he will punish them for that lack of respect. 559 Religion itself depends on this balance, for no one will honor a God whom they despise, and people will indeed despise God if they do not fear him. 560 The purpose of this fear is extended to the laws, as Lactantius argues that if the fear of a superior being is removed, then people will think that they can escape the notice of the laws - if there is no one (real or imagined) to 215 559 ID 6.2: Nam neque honor ullus deberi potest deo, si nihil praestat colenti, nec ullus metus, si non irascitur non colenti. 560 ID 8, passim, wherein the target is Epicurus. enforce the laws through punishment, and if God does not get angry when he sees that unjust acts are committed, there is no point in following those laws. 561 Lactantius extends his model to the terrestrial sphere in his discussions of the ‘earthly kingdom and government’ which, unless fear should guard it, is dissolved. Remove anger from a king, and not only will no one obey him, but he will even be thrown from his height. 562 This is true, Lactantius holds, not only for those with a great deal of power, but also for those who are the lowliest among society; regardless of one’s station in life, if an individual does not show himself capable of exercising just anger, no one will refrain from attacking, injuring, and otherwise insulting him. Anger and the fear of the angry person are key to obedience, as he goes on to argue: If no one is obedient to another unless compelled, therefore all authority consists of fear, and fear through anger. For if one is not moved against someone who refuses to obey, he cannot be forced to obedience. Let anyone consult his own emotions, straightaway he will perceive that no one can be subjugated to an authority without anger and reproof. Thus where there will be no anger there will be no authority. God, moreover, has authority; thus by necessity he even has anger, of which authority consists. 563 Once again, the emphasis is on obedience, with regard to both the earthly and the heavenly realms. Lactantius establishes a parallel system in which the highest power (the emperor and God, respectively) is vested with an authority that depends upon his ability to be angry and 216 561 ID 8.5: Quod si negotium deus nec habet nec exhibet, cur ego non delinquamus, quotiens hominum conscientiam fallere licebit ac leges publicas circumscribere? Ubicumque nobis latendi occasio adriserit, consumlamus rei, auferamus aliena vel sine cruore vel etiam cum sanguine, si praeter leges nihil est amplius quod verendum sit! 562 ID 23.10: Regnum hoc inperiumque terrenum nisi metus custodiat, solvitur. Aufer iram regi, non modo nemo parebit, sed etiam de fastigio praecipitabitur. 563 ID 23.13-14: Si enim nullus alteri servit nisi coactus, omne igitur imperium metu constat, metus autem per iram. Nam si non moveatur quid adversus parere nolentem, nec cogi poeteri ad obsequium. Consulat unus quisque adfectus suos, iam intelleget neminem posse sine ira et castigatione imperio subiugari. Ubi ergo ira non fuerit, imperium quoque non erit. Deus autem habet imperium; ergo et iram, qua constat imperium, habeat necesse est. thus to show the proper admonition and discipline to his subjects. For God, anger exists in relation to the law; the violation of the divine command incites God’s wrath and results in his judgment. Our fear of God exists because of his capacity to judge. Matters are slightly yet significantly different in the human sphere. Although Lactantius focuses on obedience, he has little to say about human laws, and we have already learned his opinion of human judges. The emperor, as the king, maintains the highest level of authority and in this way most resembles the divine model. It is as such that he should be feared and revered, and he must employ anger lest his subjects cease to honor and obey him. So on the one hand, there exists in the text an implicit injunction to the emperor to cultivate just anger for the sake of government and discipline. On the other hand, Lactantius does not establish a parallel between the human and divine judge; indeed as we have seen, the human judge is the one figure whom Lactantius identifies as possibly performing his due function without anger. But we also know that the emperor was thought of as a judge, an arbiter of disputes in the secular sphere, even if in the classical Roman model his power of adjudication excluded interference in religious affairs. The questions which a Christian emperor must answer were whether or not, or to what degree, his Christianity should influence his adjudication of secular affairs and if he should use the power invested in him by virtue of that secular office to interfere in ecclesiastical matters. The range of Constantine’s behavior toward those involved in the Donatist schism demonstrates that these were questions that continued to be negotiated. There are moments when he appears aloof and delegates responsibility to the appropriate ecclesiastical authorities, as in the councils of Rome and Arles. At the same time, he interfered in the background by selecting the bishops for both councils, through his communications with the Caecilianists and others throughout the course of the affair, and later by bringing disciplinary 217 action to bear on the Donatists. These discrepancies in his actions have been interpreted as part of the development, on a case-by-case basis, of Constantine’s formation of his role as the Christian emperor and the politics of church and state. The evolutionary nature of this process should not be discounted here; indeed the ad hoc system of imperial responses to the schism gives us the opportunity to evaluate the changes that took place and to discern what might have been behind those changes. In the case of the Donatist schism, Constantine’s eventual relinquishing of control and removal of himself from the dispute has been interpreted as reflective of three related factors: the impending war with Licinius, the desire to preserve unity, and the concept of religious toleration. The empire between 305 and 312 was divided, lacked consistent leadership and authority, and was maintained under fragile conditions. That Constantine emerged victorious in 312 was only a first step in a series of political maneuvers; complete imperial coherence could not be attained until the divestment of Licinius’ power. In North Africa, the situation among Christians was not altogether different: Carthaginian, Numidian, and Mauretanian Christians each simultaneously elected bishops to the same post, and those bishops themselves fought with one another for legitimate control of the North African church. Although this was a situation limited to North Africa, it had far-reaching consequences for Christians across the empire, who themselves had just withstood nearly a decade of persecution, however varied in severity. Politically and in his religious activities, Constantine sought to maintain order and impart consistency, to create unity and promote concord. 564 The link between this strategy and the perspectives advocated by Lactantius has recently garnered more attention as scholars have begun to see the motifs of toleration and 218 564 On how these ideals manifested in his religious policies, which were not identifiably Christian in the public sphere bur rather ambiguous and meant to identify a spectrum of belief along which varieties of monotheism could co-exist, see Drake (2002) 194-212. acceptance in De Mortibus Persecutorum and Divinae Institutiones. It is somewhat surprising, then, that in his discussion of the motivations behind Constantine’s final withdrawal from involvement in the Donatist schism, Drake does not see the influence of such thought at work. Commenting on Constantine’s emphasis on the need for patience and for letting God settle the affair, Drake notes that It may well be that Constantine was motivated by expediency, that he was merely putting the best face on an embarrassing demonstration of the actual limits of imperial power. But even so, it remains significant that the face he chose was that of Christian love and endurance, that the principle he chose was one compatible with the Edict of Milan. It is just conceivable that in the course of the Donatist conflict he had grown to appreciate the important of that principle. 565 Our study of De ira Dei allows us to go a step further, and to suggest that the arguments that Lactantius made in his treatise are at play in this perspective. That God would always judge and that mortals should reserve patience in awaiting punishment were two important components of Lactantius’ argument for divine wrath. These were also notes that Constantine was careful to strike in his letters to the Catholic and Numidian bishops. No longer the eager convert or the equally eager imperial administrator, Constantine’s persona in the later letters suggests a measured confidence and a studied appreciation of his limits, both as a Christian and as the emperor. We first find this in his letter to the Catholic bishops following the Council of Arles. Here, Constantine stresses the concepts of potential unity and reform, making the claim that if he could come to the right path, so too could the Donatists: The eternal and incomprehensible goodness of our God will by no means allow the human condition to carry on straying in error, nor does it permit the abhorrent wishes of certain men to prevail to such a degree ... For there were initially in me 219 565 Drake (2002) 221. many obvious defects in righteousness, nor did I believe that the supernal power saw any of those things that I did in the secrecy of my own heart... 566 The firm belief that God can and will lead the wrong-doers to righteousness is one that Lactantius often expresses in De ira Dei, particularly as he focuses on the use of anger as a means by which to correct and to instruct - anger is important not only as a way to reprimand but also as a way to inspire others to proper behavior and to reform the behavior of the offender. 567 Constantine’s language describing his ignorance that God sees the things that he did in ‘secrecy’ is also reminiscent of Lactantius’ contention about the necessity of divine anger: while the human, temporal judge can only decide a case based on the evidence before him, God sees and has knowledge of everything that we think, see, and do. 568 Constantine again addresses the Catholics in 321 to inform them that he has done all that he reasonably could in dealing with the Donatists. Here the focus is on awaiting the judgment of God while patiently persevering through the present circumstances: You know well that I have attempted to fulfill the debt of faith, so far as my wisdom prevailed and my integrity sufficed, through all the offices of humanity and moderation ... But since our policy was not able to tame that power of ingrained wickedness ... we must take measures, while this whole business concerns but a few, that the mercy of Almighty God towards his people should be temperately applied. ... But while the heavenly medicine does its work, our policy is to be so far regulated that we practice continual patience, and, whatever their insolence tries or does as a result of their customary intemperance, all this we are to tolerate with the 220 566 Appendix 5: Aeterna et religiosa inconprehensibilis pietas dei nostri nequaquam permittit humanum condicionem diutius in tenebris oberaare neque patitur exosas quorundam voluntates usque in tantum pervalere ... Fuerunt enim in me primitus, quae iustitia carere videbantur, nec ulla putabam videre supernam potentiam, quae intra secreta pectoris mei gererem. (Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum 26: S. Optati Milevitani Libri VII, Accedunt Decem Monumenta Vetera ad Donatistarum Historiam Pertinentia. Ed. C. Ziswa 1893.) 567 This is a theme by now familiar, but see for example 5.12, 8.9, 12.2, 17.12, 17.18-19, 18.10, etc. 568 ID 9.5, 15.5, 16.5, 19.5, 20.13 are some examples. virtue of tranquility. Let nothing be done to reciprocate an injury; for it is a fool who would usurp the vengeance which we ought to reserve to God.... 569 Constantine moves quickly from an apology for the failure of temporal institutions to put an end to the affair to an exhortation to the Catholics (the letter is addressed to clergy and laypeople) to endure the events incited by the Donatists and to refrain from retributive action. The sentiment that proper vengeance belongs to God has parallels in Lactantius’ claims in De ira Dei: as the supreme, ultimate judge, God will punish those who break the divine law. In this case, Constantine applies this notion to the Donatists, who by virtue of having instigated religious discord and dissent have violated the principles of unity and concord prized by the Christian God. If harmony comes from God, then heresy comes from the devil, or so runs the argument of Consantine’s 330 letter to the Numidian bishops. The emperor differentiates between those who who worship the most high God and those who are ‘insidious and heretical.’ Eternal glory awaits the former, but damnation and ‘condign punishment’ await the latter. 570 Constantine again invokes the rhetoric of God’s vengeance and punishment to accentuate his point: Indeed it is by this that the judgment of God appears manifestly more great and righteous, that he bears them with equanimity and condemns by his patience, 221 569 Appendix 9: Quod fides debuit, quantum prudentia valuit, provet puritas potuit, temptasse me per omnia humanitatis et moderationis officia optime scitis, ut iuxta magisteria legis nostrae pax illa sanctissimae fraternitatis, cuius gratiam deus summus famulourm suorum pectoribus inmiscuit, stabilita per omnem concordiam teneretur. Sed quia vim illam sceleris infusi paucorum licet sensibus pervicaciter inhaerentem intentionis nostrae ratio non potuit edomare favente adhuc sibi huic nequitiae patrocinio ... Inde enim remedium sperare debemus, cum omnia bona vota et facta referuntur. Verum dum caelestis medicina procedat, hactenus sunt consilia nostra moderanda, ut patientiam percolamus et, quicquid insolentia illorum pro consuetudine intemperantiae suae temptant aut faciunt, id totum tranquillitatis virtute toleremus. Nihil ex reciproco reponatur iniuiae; vindictam enim, quam deo servare debemus, insipientis est manibus usurpare, maxime cum debeat fides nostra confidere, quicquid ab huiusmodi hominum furore patietur, martyrii gratia apud deum esse valiturum. 570 Appendix 10: ... Et ideo cum a sacerdotibus dei per patientiam cum ipso suo patre superant, sibi ii, qui cultores dei summi gloriam, illi vero damnationem conparent et condigna supplicia. enduring all the things that come from them. God indeed promises to be the avenger of all, and thus when vengeance is left to God a harsher penalty is exacted from one’s enemies. 571 The model that Constantine creates here for the bishops is not unlike that which Lactantius suggests for those who hold terrestrial power in De ira Dei. One of the implicit encouragements of Lactantius’ text is for such an individual to look to God as a model for rule. One should not, however, overstep the boundaries that separate mortal and divine by taking responsibility for the adjudication of ecclesiastical affairs, for God the judge will decide the cases of his worshippers when he sees fit. The emperor offers a similar idea to the bishops. They should, like God, endure in the present, a goal which is attainable because they ought to have trust in God’s vengeance and his enforcement of the penalty. He goes on to maintain that to know God is to know this fact, namely that ‘a greater vengeance is provoked against the opponents of the church when they are spared in the temporal sphere.’ 572 Temporal judgment and action are inadequate when dealing with offenses against the divine and these offenders are best left to their proper judge, not Constantine. Yet there was one thing that Constantine could do for the Catholic bishops. In discussing a petition that he had received from them, the emperor recounts that the heretics have ‘invaded’ the basilica that he had ordered to be built in Cirta (now named Constantina). Despite having been ordered to return the property by judges, imperial and ecclesiastical officials, the Donatists have refused to do so. Constantine’s solution, which he saw as ‘imitating the patience of the Most High God,’ was to give the Numidians money and to 222 571 Appendix 10: Ex hoc quippe maius dei summi exsistat iustiusque iudicium, quod eos aequo animo tolerat et patientia condemnat his omnia, quae ab ipsis processerunt, sustituendo, deus siquidem se omnium vindicem promisit. Et ideo cum vindicta deo permittitur, acrius de inimicis supplicium sumitur. 572 Appendix 10: hoc est vere ac penitus deum nosse, hoc est praeceptis insistere, hoc est felicter credere, hoc est vere sentire, hoc est scire, quod maior vindicta in contrarios ecclesiae provocetur, cum hisdem in saeculo parcitur.. order the construction of another basilica. Although he can do nothing about the heretical Donatists, Constantine can offer financial aid and help the Catholic cause in Numidia through the provision of space. Despite his prayers that the Donatists see the light and ‘flee to God, who is one and true and the judge of all,’ he expresses doubt that this will ever happen and instead attends to those matters over which he can exert some control. This allows Constantine to remain distant from the theological dispute while still behaving as a benefactor of the church, and to do so within the confines of secular, traditional modes of adjudication. His disavowal of any role in the ongoing conflict and injunction for others to do the same by submitting to God’s eternal ruling gives him the opportunity to exercise the imperial power proper to his position and to still favor the Catholics. Constantine was a shrewd, politically astute ruler in matters concerning both the state and the church and in each of these areas he sought to establish unity and legitimacy. His earliest maneuvers among the ecclesiastical elite indicate the extent to which his relationship with the Christian church was one marked by transition, development, and the negotiation of boundaries. One of the issues at stake throughout this process was the definition of the role and power of the Christian emperor. In Lactantius’ formulation, God was both supreme king and judge of all things heavenly and the enforcer of his own law; the emperor was a reflection of this power and majesty but could not overstep his bounds by adjudicating ecclesiastical disputes. God’s wrath, the operation of which provided another model for the emperor, was nonetheless reserved to God and would be meted out against those who had broken the divine law in due course. A few, precise moments in the history of his interference in the Donatist schism illustrate that this was a view to which Constantine eventually, though perhaps only temporarily, adhered. While there is not enough evidence to suggest that Lactantius envisioned his treatise as having a specific and immediate effect on 223 Constantine, the issues raised by the Donatist schism do offer examples of the kinds of debates and discussions in which Lactantius attempted to interfere. In Lactantius’ formulation, the figure of the emperor is both king and judge, both ruler and ruled. Insofar as he holds the highest temporal authority, Lactantius envisions him as upholding the principles of jurisdiction and adjudication that Scheid identified in the late Roman republic and early empire. The emperor is free to judge and to prosecute secular affairs within the limits and according to the standards of human powers and institutions; here anger is appropriate because those being judged must submit to the authority of the emperor. When it comes to religious, and here specifically Christian, offenses, however, Lactantius maintains that only God can be the true and proper judge, his anger has been and will continue to be revealed against those who transgress the divine law. Such a reformulation of classical religious and political thought is entirely consistent with Lactantius’ broader apologetic and theological agenda: he advocates a model for divine wrath that combines scriptural expressions of God’s anger with traditional pagan conceptions thereof, and his framework for the practical (and political) implications of that idea seeks to maintain lines of continuity with traditional Roman policies and identities. In so doing Lactantius also emphasizes the collective over the individual, the health and preservation of the community over the personal violation and its consequences. First visible in his privileging of ratio over revelation, this belief in the reason and system of religion can be seen here as influential to his conceptualization of the politics of religion. The existence of God’s wrath insures that each ultimately will get his due; in the meantime he exhorts his audience to work toward the preservation of discipline for the greater good of all. 224 Epilogue In this study I have established Lactantius’ position within and contribution to the philosophical and theological traditions concerning the nature of the supreme god and the place of emotions in the divine. I have argued that De ira Dei is both consistent with Lactantius’ other works and a departure from those of his cohort: his attack on the philosophers and engagement with the learning of classical antiquity, coupled with his avoidance of any direct quotation of or reference to the Christian scriptures reflects the methodology he adopts in the Divinae Institutiones, itself inherently and self-consciously different from those adopted by the likes of Minucius Felix, Tertullian, and Cyprian. In addition, although he was fully capable of engaging in the kinds of figural and allegorical readings frequently undertaken by both philosophers and theologians, Lactantius instead approached the question of divine anger from a literal reading of the Old Testament scriptures. Here again we find the author making an intentional effort to differentiate himself from his peers and adversaries; by adhering to the letter of the text he crafts an argument in favor of God’s wrath. To build his case, Lactantius invoked the tools and principles of Ciceronian rhetoric, skills which he prized above all others for the construction and demonstration of his argument. To his thinking, these provided an indisputable rationale and foundation from which to assail his opponents, the philosophers. De ira Dei was not, however, simply an example of rhetorical flourish or an exercise in proving the validity of a point. The text was written in the midst of continuing political and ecclesiastical uncertainties, the complexities of which the case of the Donatist schism in North Africa offers just one example. Optatus’ reconstruction of the events highlights the idea that secular involvement in ecclesiastical 225 affairs was troublesome to certain Christian communities; similarly, Constantine’s representation of himself as one who struggled with his roles as Christian and emperor illustrate that this was a political issue as well. His redefinition of these roles and the varying degrees to which he intervened in the dispute further suggest that these were questions that the emperor often reevaluated and concerning which he was receptive to guidance. Lactantius’ treatise thus served two immediate ends. The first was to contribute to a long-standing (and still contemporary) theological debate. This much is clear from the text itself, as Lactantius informs his dedicatee that he penned the text so that he might have some arguments to bring to bear against those who claim that God does not experience any emotions. 573 The second objective was to suggest a model for the adjudication of ecclesiastical affairs, a model that had two distinctive components. On the one hand, imperial rule was a reflection of divine rule, although importantly not equal to it. In this construction of power, there are traits that both God and the emperor share: both are the sole and highest rulers of their respective domains, and by virtue of this fact, both must act as judges of those who fall within their power. On the other hand, Lactantius distinguishes between between the mortal and divine realms. The significance of this distinction should not be disregarded: by it Lactantius establishes the emperor as the judge of the terrestrial sphere but perhaps more critically, as subject to the Christian God. An emperor (or magistrate, or any other person holding earthly power), then, may govern and punish those who fall under his control, but as the mere human arbiter and enforcer of the law, he should not step beyond the confines of the secular. In the Introduction, I pointed to three broader areas of inquiry and scholarship upon which I have drawn in the present study and to which this project is a contribution. 226 573 ID 1.1; 22.1. These include the relationship between the secular and the Christian, the Christian intellectual inheritance of and engagement with the classical tradition, larger concerns in scholarship on Lactantius. One could add to this the variety of studies that examine the anger and the emotions. At the same time, the material explored in the preceding pages has opened up further points for discussion and investigation, much of which was by necessity relegated to the notes or simply left unaddressed. In the pages that follow and as a way of closing our consideration of Lactantius, I shall suggest some avenues for further research. Three topics immediately come to mind: the questions of the role and authority of the law; the manifestation of the concept of the wrath of God in the art historical and material records; and the psychology of divine anger and mortal fear. At the heart of Lactantius’ distinction between the human and divine judges is the belief that each is responsible for the enforcement of a specific body of legislation. In the former case, this naturally corresponds to the kinds of edicts, statutes, and rescripts later collated in, for example, the Justinian and Theodosian Codes. In the latter case, the nature and definition of the law is arguably more fragile. Here again we can attribute one reason for this to the tensions inherent in the relationship between Judaism and Christianity. For a certain group of Christians, the divine law was that law originally handed down to Moses on Mt. Sinai; even if the commandments were not preserved in their entirety, at least the first two came to play important roles in their fashioning of the law. By contrast, other Christians did away with the ‘old’ law entirely and instead upheld Jesus’ teachings in the Gospels. In this configuration, the new covenant replaced (and was often argued to be better than) the old, a valuation which spilled over into characterizations of the Jews and the Christians as less and more beloved by God, respectively. 227 If Lactantius maintains that there are two systems of law in effect, one governing mortal affairs for which the emperor and his officials are responsible, and another governing religious affairs, for which God himself is responsible, more work ought to be done on his idea of that divine law. It has been suggested that Lactantius adopted a Ciceronian perspective in thinking about the divine law as based on innate, inherent principles common to all of humankind. 574 Support for this view comes from the fact that it is very much in keeping with the way that Lactantius operates: it draws upon a familiar, classical model and seeks to appropriate it for Christian use and ideals. What remains to be seen is whether or not there existed any parallels to the divine law as transmitted in the Old Testament texts and along with that, what Lactantius’ opinion was regarding the place of Jews and Judaism in relation to Christianity. We get some hints of this in the Epitome, wherein Lactantius takes up the familiar position that the Jews had been promised all the benefits that accrue from being God’s favored people, but that they went astray and lost that privilege over time. 575 Their ultimate failure was to recognize Jesus Christ, paving the way for Christians to usurp their status and cultivate a relationship with God. A Christian conception of divine law, then, would have had to taken into account Roman or imperial law and Jewish law as presented as having divine origins in the Old Testament. That the authority of one system of law over another was a concern to either or both of these religious communities is evident from the survival of two documents. The first is the Collatio Legum Mosaicarum et Romanarum, also referred to as the Lex Dei. 576 Written 228 574 E. Heck, ‘Iustitia civilis - iustitia naturalis. A propos du jugement de Lactance concernant les discours sur la justice dans le De re publica de Cicéron,’ in Fontaine J. and M. Perrin (eds.) Lactance et son temps. Recherches actuelles. Actes du IV e Colloque d'Études historiques et patristiques, Chantilly, 21-23 septembre 1976. Paris, 1978. 1978, 171-184. 575 Epitome 43-46, 48. 576 M. Hyamson, Mosaicarum et Romanarum Legum Collatio. Oxford University Press, 1913. in the late fourth century, the text consists of sixteen tituli from Mosaic law followed by citations of the Roman jurists and Roman legislation. 577 There has been much discussion over whether or not the compiler was Jewish or Christian as well as over the purpose that the document was meant to serve, a debate not helped by the lack of commentary or discussion in the text itself. 578 The second document is one of two texts by ‘Ambrosiaster,’ the name ascribed to the author of a set of Commentaries on the Pauline epistles and a book of 127 Quaestiones put to the Old and New Testaments. 579 Much like the Collatio, the Quaestiones were written in the late fourth century (c.366-384), and again we know very little about the author. 580 It could be interesting to compare the ideas about and representations of the divine law contained in these two documents with Lactantius’ formulation thereof in De ira Dei as well as in the Divinae Institutiones. Throughout this study, we have been concerned with the theosophical argument and implications of divine anger. One facet of this problem that we have not discussed is the manifestation or the image of an angry god in the art historical and material records. Although such a consideration has been beyond the scope of both the thesis and the research that went into it, I suggest here at least one avenue for future work. A general inquiry into representations of the Christian God or biblical scenes in which anger or 229 577 For dating see A. Jacobs, ‘“Papinian Commands One Thing, Our Paul Another:” Roman Christians and Jewish Law in the Collatio Legum Mosaicarum et Romanarum,’ in Ando, C. and J. Rüpke (eds.) Religion and Law in Classical and Christian Rome. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2006, 85-99; for the Latin translation of biblical materials and the role of the Lex Dei in preserving them see R. Frakes, ‘The Lex Dei and the Latin Bible.’ Harvard Theological Review 100 (2007), 425-441. 578 See again Jacobs (2006) against L. V . Rutgers, L. V . The Jews in Late Ancient Rome: Evidence of Cultural Interaction in the Roman Diaspora. Leiden: Brill, 1995, whose summary of the previous scholarship on the issue is helpful. 579 For a discussion of Ambrosiaster’s identity with synthesis of previous work on the author, see S. Lunn- Rockliffe, Ambrosiaster’s Political Theology. (Oxford Early Christian Studies). Oxford University Press, 2007, 33-62. 580 Lunn-Rockliffe (2007) 11-88. punishment are part of the story could be a useful tool for thinking about the broader issues at play. A more focused investigation, however, of the Christian art in a specific city of import during Constantine’s reign and Lactantius’ lifetime might be of greater value. To that end, Trier appears to be the best candidate: the city had a long history of importance to the Romans as a military and economic center. It became particularly esteemed once Constantius (293-306) came to power and the city was established as the capital of the praefecture of Gaul. 581 Constantine too engaged in a number of building projects in the city. In addition to taking residence there before his battle with Maxentius as well as in the 320s, Constantine rebuilt the bridge over the Moselle and had constructed a Roman basilica (not a church). Also known as the Aula Palatina, the structure was built in 310 as part of the palace complex, and originally had other, smaller buildings attached to it. During Constantine’s reign, the bishop Maximin of Trier (329-346) oversaw the construction of the church; raised on the foundation of earlier Roman buildings, the church was massive, including four basilicas, a baptistry, and exterior buildings. The city also rose in intellectual prestige in the early fourth century, so much so as to invite comparison with Autun. Given Constantine’s patronage of and involvement in the city, on civic and Christian terms, as well as Lactantius’ residence in the city between 317 and 326, the material remains of the city merit consideration. Such a study could look at both the archaeological remains and the Christian art in the church. A better understanding of the space inhabited by Lactantius might shed light on the later life of the apologist; examination of the surviving art in both the basilica and the church can help us to construct a more vivid picture of Lactantius’ world. 230 581 The archaeological remains attest to the military and economic importance of the city, monuments include the Porta Nigra, the forum, a granary, an amphitheater, a circus, and baths. For as much as the physical, material aspects of Lactantius’ world merit investigation, so too does the psychology of anger. In Lactantius’ case, scholars often have been content to relate his position on divine anger to feelings of resentment and a conviction in punishment, the likes of which we find hinted at in a text like De Mortibus Persecutorum. While I shown that there was much more at stake, theologically and politically, in De ira Dei, one area left unexplored was a more theoretical discussion of the psychology behind Lactantius’ views, especially with regard to his adamant assertion about the importance of fear. Throughout the text, Lactantius argues that anger and fear are necessary for the preservation of order both terrestrial and heavenly, since no one will obey someone whom he does not fear, and he will not fear someone who cannot get angry and inflict punishment. Yet Lactantius does not tell us much more about fear, with the exception that it cannot belong to God (since there is nothing greater than him). Despite its seeming severity, this formulation of fear is not terribly different from Augustine’s, for example. In the second book of his De Doctrina Christiana, Augustine sets out seven steps that are necessary for achieving wisdom, the first of which is the fear of God. 582 Each theologian sees the fear of God as a consequence of the knowledge that God will judge; in Lactantius the emphasis is on judgment that leads to punishment. Augustine, however, is more focused on the need to love God, a facet of his argument that should inform our reading of his thoughts on the need to fear God. In his De diversis quaestionibus octaginta tribus, for instance, Augustine considers the question of mortal fear at three different points. Quaestio 33 argues that one only fears that which is loved; Quaestio 34 then maintains that one ought not to love freedom from fear but that one should also not love it alone. The last question having to do with fear is 77, which consists of a debate between an interlocutor 231 582 De Doctrina Christiana 2.7.9-11. and Augustine over whether or not fear (timor) is a sin. Although Augustine’s response does not directly address the concerns first articulated, from what Augustine does say, it seems that he would have said ‘yes,’ perhaps with qualifications. Lactantius and Augustine might have agreed on the reasons why fear is a sin, or at any rate an undesirable, if unavoidable, consequence of the human condition: it is a reflection of our mortality and our human frailty - but altogether necessary for our salvation. The difference, I suggest, is that for Augustine, fear is a step on the path to the love of God, not just, as Lactantius explains it, a means by which one is compelled to obey and to observe the law. 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Abstract (if available)

Abstract In this dissertation I examine the De ira Dei of Lactantius from the perspectives of classical philosophy and rhetorical theory, Christian theology, and the socio-historic debates specific to the fourth century CE. Lactantius argues that the Christian God is moved by anger, a claim which he himself acknowledges as antithetical to the traditional philosophical and theological positions that viewed the supreme god as impassible. To date, De ira Dei has remained a misunderstood and undervalued resource in the study of the history of religion in Late Antiquity. My primary aim is to demonstrate the ways in which the text and its author were occupied with philosophical and theological questions of central importance to the development of Christian doctrine. I argue that Lactantius sought to shape the Christian (and) imperial present through his contribution to these debates. This document, indicative of the transitions and transformations particular to the early fourth century CE, presents an alternative perspective to the controversies of the period. The questions raised in and by the text prompt a reevaluation of our conceptions both of Christian beliefs about the emotions of God and, moreover, of the consequences of these beliefs. My approach to the text, grounded in philosophy, theology, and history, seeks to contribute to the fields of Classics and Religion, as well as to those of intellectual history and Latin apologetic more broadly, a reappraisal of a text hitherto confined to the narrower purview of Patristics.

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Creator Meinking, Kristina Ann (author)

Core Title Anger matters: politics and theology in the fourth century CE

School College of Letters, Arts and Sciences

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Classics

Publication Date 08/13/2010

Defense Date 08/05/2010

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag Anger,apologetic,Christian,Cicero,Constantine,De ira Dei,fourth century,God,Lactantius,Latin,OAI-PMH Harvest,Philosophy,Theology

Language English

Contributor Electronically uploaded by the author (provenance)

Advisor Habinek, Thomas N. (committee chair), Ando, Clifford (committee member), Glenn, Jason (committee member), Van Bladel, Kevin (committee member)

Creator Email kmeinking@elon.edu,meinking@usc.edu

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-m3400

Unique identifier UC1476922

Identifier etd-Meinking-4027 (filename),usctheses-m40 (legacy collection record id),usctheses-c127-391811 (legacy record id),usctheses-m3400 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier etd-Meinking-4027.pdf

Dmrecord 391811

Document Type Dissertation

Rights Meinking, Kristina Ann

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Repository Name Libraries, University of Southern California

Repository Location Los Angeles, California

Repository Email cisadmin@lib.usc.edu