Ambrose of Milan and Community Formation in Late Antiquity [1 ed.] 1527564630, 9781527564633

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Ambrose of Milan and Community Formation in Late Antiquity

Ambrose of Milan and Community Formation in Late Antiquity Edited by

Ethan Gannaway and Robert Grant

Ambrose of Milan and Community Formation in Late Antiquity Edited by Ethan Gannaway and Robert Grant This book first published 2021 Cambridge Scholars Publishing Lady Stephenson Library, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2PA, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2021 by Ethan Gannaway, Robert Grant and contributors All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-5275-6463-0 ISBN (13): 978-1-5275-6463-3

To our colleagues, students, and alumni for supporting and challenging us to continue to learn from and to teach others about Ambrose of Milan.

To Anne, Owen, Henry, and Charlie.

To the late Angela Russell Christman. neque enim virtutis gratia cum corpore occidit non idem naturae meritorumque finis Ambrose, De excessu fratris 1.63 We are grateful to her family for permitting us the honor of this posthumous publication of her work.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

List of Illustrations .................................................................................... ix Acknowledgements .................................................................................... x Abbreviations ............................................................................................ xi Contributor Biographies ........................................................................... xii Introduction ................................................................................................ 1 Ethan Gannaway and Robert Grant Chapter One .............................................................................................. 12 Ambrose and the Creation of a Christian Community Rita Lizzi Testa Chapter Two ............................................................................................. 45 Ambrose of Milan: Constructing Roman Christian Patronage Robert Grant Chapter Three ........................................................................................... 58 Community in Transition: Ambrose's De virginitate as Testimony of a Hierarchical Reversal between Virgins and Bishop Metha Hokke Chapter Four ............................................................................................. 77 Ambrose, Martyrs, and Liturgy Mons. Francesco Braschi Chapter Five ............................................................................................. 90 The Song of Songs: A Key to Ambrose and His Vision of the Church Sr. Maria M. Kiely, O.S.B.

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Table of Contents

Chapter Six ............................................................................................. 106 Ambrose's Exegesis of the Psalms: A Bishop Forming the Community around Christ the Teacher David VopĜada Chapter Seven......................................................................................... 120 A Window into Biblical Culture: Virgil's Aeneid in Ambrose of Milan's Expositio Psalmi CXVIII Angela Russell Christman Chapter Eight .......................................................................................... 135 The (Re)Construction of Ambrose's Hymns Brian Dunkle, S.J. Chapter Nine........................................................................................... 151 Ambrose and Art: Toward a Community Aesthetic Ethan Gannaway Chapter Ten ............................................................................................ 172 Ambrose and Truth Allan Fitzgerald, O.S.A. Chapter Eleven ....................................................................................... 184 Blurring Distinctions between Arians and Philosophers: Ambrose’s Attack on Worldly Wisdom in the De interpellatione Anthony Thomas Chapter Twelve ...................................................................................... 205 Toward a More Perfect Union: Societas and Misericordia in Ambrose’s Theology of Community J. Warren Smith Chapter Thirteen ..................................................................................... 224 Ennodius and Ambrose’s De officiis in Ostrogothic Italy Giulia Marconi Bibliography ........................................................................................... 239 Index ....................................................................................................... 264

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Fig. 1-1. Callinicum. Map courtesy of Angelo Di Berardino, ed., Atlas of Ancient Christianity (Philadelphia: ICC Press, 2014), 19, map 11.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The editors would like to thank the Advisory Board of the Academy for the Study of St. Ambrose of Milan (ASSAM), without whose generosity, enthusiasm, and belief in the project, we would never have assembled on our campus such a brilliant and diverse community of scholars for our 2018 conference “Ambrose of Milan: (Re)Constructing Community.” Thank you also to St. Ambrose University (Davenport, Iowa), the Baecke Endowment for the Humanities (SAU), and for ASSAM’s many donors for their dedication to Ambrose and for trusting us to invest in the charism of our patron saint. Finally, let us express our gratitude to the Veneranda Biblioteca Ambrosiana and our growing international consortium of Ambrose scholars, whose partnerships and collegiality continue to challenge our understanding of Ambrose and, simply, provide endless joy in scholarship and fellowship.

ABBREVIATIONS

For Ambrose, we generally follow the abbreviations of his works found in Ivor Davidson, Ambrose: De Officiis, 1:xxiv-xxv. For the dual language (Latin and Italian) editions of Ambrose's work published as volumes of Sancti Ambrosii Episcopi Mediolanensis Opera, we abbreviate as SAEMO. Please note that some authors chose to cite SAEMO instead of CSEL, although the dual language (Latin and Italian) SAEMO editions include the then contemporary CSEL edition. The editors of the various SAEMO volumes, however, have sometimes commented on and sometimes altered the Latin editions. For classical sources, please follow the Oxford Classical Dictionary, 4th ed. For periodicals, we follow the conventions of L’Année Philologique.

CONTRIBUTOR BIOGRAPHIES

Rev. Mons. Francesco Braschi is Doctor of the Biblioteca Ambrosiana and Professor of Theology at Catholic University of the Sacred Heart in Milan. He is also Canon of the Basilica of St. Ambrose in Milan and President of the Russia Cristiana Foundation. His most recent publication, among many, is “Far rivivere Ambrogio di Milano: Le omelie del Cardinale Federico Borromeo (1564-1631) nella festa del suo Santo Predecessore,” in Ambrosiana, Hagiographica, Vaticana. Studi in onore di Mons. Cesare Pasini in occasione del suo settantesimo compleanno, ed. Ambrogio M. Piazzoni (Vatican City, 2020). Angela Christman, Professor of Theology at Loyola University Maryland, published “Narrative and Exegesis in Ambrose of Milan's Exposition of Psalm 118,” Studia Patristica 46 (2010), and “What Did Ezekiel See?” Christian Exegesis of Ezekiel's Vision of the Chariot from Irenaeus to Gregory the Great (Leiden, 2005). Brian Dunkle, S.J., is Assistant Professor of Historical Theology at the Boston College School of Theology and Ministry. He is the author of Enchantment and Creed in the Hymns of Ambrose of Milan (Oxford, 2016) and the translator of Ambrose of Milan: Treatises on Noah and David (Washington, D. C., 2020). Allan Fitzgerald, O.S.A., is Professor of Historical Theology and Director of Special Projects at The Augustinian Institute, Villanova University. Among numerous publications, major works include the edited volume, Augustine through the Ages: An Encyclopedia (Grand Rapids, MI, 1999) and Conversion through Penance in the Italian Church of the Fourth and Fifth Centuries (Lewiston, NY, 1988). Ethan Gannaway is Associate Director of the Academy for the Study of Saint Ambrose of Milan and Adjunct Associate Professor of History at St. Ambrose University (Davenport, IA). Recent publications include “A Viewer Walks into a Tomb: Transformation in the Cubiculum Leonis,” in The Ancient Art of Transformation, ed. Renee M. Gondek and Carrie L. Sulosky Weaver (Oxford, 2019), “Ambrose's Baptismal Ritual as Apocalyptic

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Experience,” Studia Ambrosiana 9 (2016), and “Ambrose the Traditional, Christian Educator,” Studia Ambrosiana 7 (2013). Rev. Robert Grant is Professor of Theology at St. Ambrose University and Director of the Academy for the Study of Saint Ambrose of Milan. He has published several times on Ambrose including “The Ambrose Doctrine,” Studia Ambrosiana 8 (2013), and “Weapons Strong for God: The Moral Theology of Ambrose of Milan applied to war, torture, and capital punishment,” Studia Ambrosiana 5 (2011). Metha Hokke is completing her dissertation, Ambrose’s Virginity Treatises. A Multidisciplinary Approach, at the University of Tilburg. She has recently published “The Concluding Prayers in Ambrose’s De institutione virginis and Exhortatio virginitatis,” in Prayer and the Transformation of the Self in Early Christian Mystagogy, ed. Hans van Loon, et al. (Leuven, 2018). Sr. Maria Kiely, O.S.B., is an Adjunct Assistant Professor of Classical Languages at the Catholic University of America. Her dissertation from the Catholic University of America is Ambrose the Pastor and the Image of the 'Bride': Exegesis, Philosophy, and the Song of Songs (2013). She has recently published on the hymns of St. Ambrose: “Sobria Ebrietas: the Role of Hymnody in the Divine Office,” in Psallite Sapienter: the Liturgy of the Hours, Proceedings of the Eleventh Fota International Liturgical Conference, 2018, ed. Joseph Briody (Wells, 2019). Rita Lizzi Testa is currently Professor of Roman History at the University of Perugia, Italy. Recent publications, among many, include The Past as Present. Essays on Roman History in Honour of Guido Clemente (Turnhout 2019; with Giovanni A. Cecconi and Arnaldo Marcone); The Collectio Avellana and Its Revivals (Newcastle upon Tyne, 2019; with Giulia Marconi), Late Antiquity in Contemporary Debate (Newcastle upon Tyne, 2017), Pagans and Christians in Late Antique Rome: Conflict, Competition, and Coexistence in the Fourth Century (Cambridge, 2015; with Michele Renee Salzman and Marianne Sághy), and The Strange Death of Pagan Rome (Turnhout, 2013). Giulia Marconi is a Research Fellow at the University of Perugia. Her publications include the edited volume The Collectio Avellana and Its Revivals (Newcastle upon Tyne, 2019; with Rita Lizzi Testa) and Ennodio e la nobiltà gallo-romana nell’Italia ostrogota (Spoleto, 2013).

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Contributor Biographies

J. Warren Smith is Professor of Historical Theology at Duke University. He is the author of Christian Grace and Pagan Virtue: The Theological Foundation of Ambrose's Ethics (Oxford, 2011) and Ambrose, Augustine, and the Pursuit of Greatness (Cambridge, 2020). Anthony Thomas is currently completing his dissertation, Ambrose of Milan Combats the “Crooked Interpreters”: Forming Nicene Identity through Old Testament Exegesis, for his PhD in Classics at the University of Minnesota. He most recently presented “Divisibility, Indivisibility, and the Triune God: Ambrose of Milan’s De Abraham and the Dangers of Applying Philosophy to God” at the International Conference on Patristics Studies at Oxford. Rev. David 9RSĜDGD is Associated Professor of Patristics and Ancient Church History at the Catholic Faculty of Theology, Charles University, Prague. He is also a Canon of the Royal Collegiate Chapter of Sts. Peter and Paul at Prague-Vyšehrad. His recent books are La mistagogia del Commento al Salmo 118 di sant’Ambrogio (2016, in Italian), and Quodvultdeus: a bishop forming Christians in Vandal Africa (2019).

INTRODUCTION ETHAN GANNAWAY AND ROBERT GRANT

In April 2018, The Academy for the Study of Saint Ambrose of Milan at St. Ambrose University hosted an international conference, “Ambrose of Milan: (Re)Constructing Community.” The objective of the conference was to examine how Ambrose built or reshaped community. Ambrose, of course, participated in many types of community, comprised of many different types of people. These communal entities, whether large (the court, upper class, lower class, etc.) or small (ecclesial congregations, clerics, vowed women, collegia, gangs, literati, etc.), overlapped one another in complex and often tense ways. Reflecting this variety, our conference included a broad diversity of perspectives. These multifarious approaches represent this late antique bishop’s manifold labors to unite his constituents in order to provide some stability during a period of religious, political, military, and social upheavals and transformations. Thirteen unique, individual interpretations of the theme are collected here to understand better Ambrose’s complex character by identifying the communities he affected and his motives for doing so. Scholars have studied the transformations of late ancient communities for a very long time, and the resulting scholarship has been accordingly copious. Edward Gibbon’s divisions set the stage for Roman history by such oppositions as Roman and barbarian, elite and the masses, soldier and civilian, pagan and Christian, and Church and Empire.1 Under Peter Brown, late antiquity became a period in its own right, as he articulated the many different groups of people who shaped it.2 The period became known for its exciting transformations, where some fought for old traditions and some began novel ones, resulting in a new interplay of rulers and ruled, citizens and outsiders, rich and poor. His corpus of scholarship has continued to advance our understanding of many late antique communities, nuancing 1

Edward Gibbon, The History of the Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire (London: Strahan and Cadell, 1776-1789). 2 Peter Brown, The World of Late Antiquity: AD 150-750 (New York: W. W. Norton and Company, 1989, reprint; London: Thames and Hudson, 1971).

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their compositions, interactions, and interdependencies. As for Ambrose, in Gibbon and Brown, the bishop was a champion of opposition, defending Christian versus pagan, Nicaean versus heretic, and poor versus rich. This role was made possible through his relationships with classically educated elites, social ordinaries, merchants, and masses, in addition to bonds with clergy and saints.3 The abundant current research on late antique communities engages the evidence in original and complex ways, which has led to a perspectival diversity regarding identity and community. In a recent issue of Studies in Late Antiquity that focused on community, the editor, Elizabeth Depalma Digeser, provided an introduction explicitly entitled “Building Community in Late Antiquity.”4 In it, she rightly asserts the tendency of historians to read only of ruin during this period, still following Gibbon’s thesis, except in regards to Church developments such as episcopal centers and monasteries.5 Tamara Lewit’s contribution focuses on specific villages in an attempt to see community resilience, especially through economic and social lenses.6 Still other articles note both a continuity with the Roman past and an effort to fuse Roman tradition with current religious and cultural circumstances.7 Such studies demonstrate the various and shifting community reactions during this period and the subsequent difficulty in describing these communities as built and new or rebuilt and renewed. A view focused on a late antique region or community can offer detailed insights into the lives and values of its people. Eric Rebillard’s, Christians and Their Many Identities in Late Antiquity, North Africa, 200-450 CE, provides an example. Rebillard considers identity, especially that of lay 3

For Ambrose in Gibbon, see chapters 27 and 28; for a recent treatment of Ambrose in Peter Brown, see “Ambrose and His People” and “’Avarice, the Root of All Evil’: Ambrose and Northern Italy,” in Through the Eye of a Needle: Wealth, the Fall of Rome, and the Making of Christianity in the West, 350-550 AD (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2012), 120-47. 4 Elizabeth Depalma Digeser, “Building Community in Late Antiquity,” Studies in Late Antiquity 4 (2020), 1-3. 5 Digeser, “Building Community,” 1. 6 Tamara Lewit, “A Viewpoint on Eastern Mediterranean Villages in Late Antiquity: Applying the Lens of Community Resilience Theory,” Studies in Late Antiquity 4 (2020): 44-75. 7 Martijn Icks, “The Urbs Aeterna in the Representation of Maxentius, Nepotian, and Priscus Attalus,” 4-43; Francesco Rotiroti, “Religion and the Construction of a Christian Roman Polity: Insanity, Identity, and Exclusion in the Religious Legislation of the Theodosian Code,” 76-113; Raphael Schwitter, “A “Roman” Wedding in Vandal Africa: Triangular Intertextuality and Generic Appropriation in Luxurius' Epithalamium Fridi (Anthologia latina 18 Riese),” 114-32.

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Christians in North Africa from the second to the fifth century. Rebillard examines, in part, the methods men like Tertullian and Augustine used to unite Christians who remained stalwartly engaged in secular and pagan communities.8 How does one reconcile, for example, the maker of pagan idols who is a practicing Christian? Ultimately, according to Rebillard, members of Christian communities did not stop participating in their secular pursuits, even when such activities may have contradicted Christian precepts and beliefs. In each instance, the citizens of these communities retained a continuity with the Roman past, sometimes a peculiarly local Roman past, and undertook subtle or, conversely, drastic innovations. In these assessments of late Roman communities, however, theological approaches have factored little, if at all.9 Ambrose's biography permits modern scholars to apply, broadly speaking, historical and theological methodologies. As an aristocratic bishop of the imperial city of Milan, Ambrose stood at the crux of many different communities and, by his peculiar position and training and by his own initiative, influenced them profoundly. This context, paired with the profusion of sources Ambrose left to posterity, provides a unique opportunity to seek the inner motivations of a late antique bishop regarding his delicate balance of various community commitments and responsibilities. Roughly twenty-five years ago, Neil McLynn offered a cogent, thoughtful, and complex study of Ambrose, even dedicating considerable space to address Ambrose’s community efforts.10 McLynn’s intent, however, was to demonstrate that Ambrose viewed community as a means to acquire personal political power. Subsequent studies mitigated the political motivations of Ambrose by reconsidering his episcopal responsibilities, his Nicene theology, and his asceticism, for example. Indeed, others have suggested that in Ambrose’s endeavors to lead his people as both Roman and Christian he strove for a type of communism, socialism, or within the existing empire,

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Eric Rebillard, Christians and Their Many Identities in Late Antiquity, North Africa, 200-450 CE (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2012). 9 This focus on economic, political, and sociological aspects without the theological appears to be the case with the very recent Leadership and Community in Late Antiquity: Essays in Honour of Raymond Van Dam, edited by Y. R. Kim, A. E. T. McLaughlin, Cultural Encounters in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages (CELAMA 26) (Turnhout: Brepols, 2020). This book, however, arrived too recently to be reviewed. 10 Neil McLynn, Ambrose of Milan: Church and Court in a Christian Capital (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994).

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an elite Roman Christianity (or Roman Christian imperialism?). 11 Using sociology and anthropology, a recent perspective found Ambrose building community through a “rhetoric of heresy,” by which he enhanced the intensity and popularity of doctrinal (i.e., Arian) opposition in Milan to make orthodoxy the champion and himself the authority. 12 Yet, a theological approach brought attention to Ambrose’s pastoral work to care for Milan’s faithful, while other studies find Ambrose making Christian communities by reinterpreting traditional philosophical ideas, especially Stoic.13 The publication of a 2009 conference in Berlin, Rom und Mailand in der Spätantike: Repräsentationen städtischer Räume in Literatur, Architektur und Kunst, edited by Therese Fuhrer, has produced some interesting new research on the relationship between Ambrose and Milan, if in the wider context of Milan and Rome as late antique capitals. A few examples will suffice to illustrate the variety and depths of these studies. Therese Fuhrer, addressing Denkräume, looks at Augustine's experience in Milan, exploring the influence of Ambrosian orthodoxy and relating it to physical space.14 Annette Haug examines the archaeological record for the city’s physical form, finding a unique relationship in Milan, where there was no senate, between emperor and elites.15 Furthermore, Claudia Tiersch adds another community dimension by delving into the social interactions in fourthcentury Milan, especially investigating the secular complications in Ambrose's

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See, for example, Arthur C. Lovejoy, “The Communism of Saint Ambrose,” The Journal of the History of Ideas 3, no. 4 (October, 1942), 458-68; Vincent Vasey, The Social ideas in the works of Saint Ambrose: a study on De Nabuthe (Rome: Institutum Patristicum “Augustinianum”, 1982). 12 Michael Stuart Williams, The Politics of Heresy in Ambrose of Milan: Community and Consensus in Late Antique Christianity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017). 13 Cesare Pasini, Ambrose of Milan: Deeds and Thought of a Bishop, trans. Robert L. Grant (Staten Island, NY: St. Paul, 2013); Ivor Davidson, Ambrose: De officiis, 2 vols. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001); Marcia L. Colish, Ambrose’s Patriarchs: Ethics for the Common Man (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005). 14 Therese Fuhrer, “‘Denkräume’ Konstellationen von Personen, Texten und Gebäuden im spätantiken Mailand,” in Rom und Mailand in der Spätantike: Repräsentationen städtischer Räume in Literatur, Architektur und Kunst. Topoi, ed. Therese Fuhrer (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2012), 357-77. 15 Annette Haug, “Die Stadt als Repräsentationsraum Rom und Mailand im 4. Jh. n.Chr.,” in Rom und Mailand in der Spätantike: Repräsentationen städtischer Räume in Literatur, Architektur und Kunst. Topoi, ed. Therese Fuhrer (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2012), 111-36.

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pastoral efforts.16 In addition to the value of the chapters in their own right, the collection as a whole provides a model for interdisciplinary dialogue, namely between literary image and topography, couched in the larger conversation of capital cities with and without an emperor. This volume has refined the bishop's role as it related to this imperial city and its people, yet looks primarily through lenses of history and archaeology, leaving room for theological methodologies. Finally, the Studia Ambrosiana series has provided different thematic and methodological approaches to Ambrose and his times. Its volumes are first a collection of articles originally presented as papers at the annual Dies Academicus of the Veneranda Biblioteca Ambrosiana (Classe di Studi Ambrosiani, Accademia Ambrosiana) in Milan, but also include outside contributions.17 Predominately this series provides the latest Italian research on the late Roman bishop, balancing theology, history, and archaeology in addition to other fields. For this introduction, let it suffice to note that the most recent volume titles reveal the increasing interest in nuancing Ambrose’s persona. Such titles include a review of a traditional and much studied religious topic, Ambrogio e l’Arianesimo; a new look at Milan and Rome through a common martyr, Il Culto di San Lorenzo tra Roma e Milano; and a contribution to current trends in social history, Ambrogio e la questione sociale.18 The mere ability to produce volumes dedicated to such specific aspects of Ambrose’s life demonstrate the profound richness of the sources to understand his character and behavior and the late antique context in which he lived. This brief review establishes several trends and lines of inquiry important to this current volume. First, interdisciplinary studies provide a clearer view of the complexities of late antique communities. The methodologies and the evidence can vary greatly. Second, the people of late antiquity could find themselves members of several different types of community, some of which were antagonistic. This conflict leads to numerous questions. How did one feel like they were a member of a certain 16

Claudia Tiersch, “Mailand im 4. Jh. – ein christliches Rom?” in Rom und Mailand in der Spätantike: Repräsentationen städtischer Räume in Literatur, Architektur und Kunst. Topoi, ed. Therese Fuhrer (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2012), 393-413. 17 The greater international community has also contributed immensely to Ambrosian scholarship, exceptionally so the Sources Chretiennes, and as demonstrated most recently in Progetti e prospettive di ricerca su Sant'Ambrogio a livello internazionale, ed. Emanuele Ghelfi, Studia Ambrosiana 12 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 2019). 18 Respectively, vols. 7 (2013), 8 (2015), and 10 (2017), each edited by Raffaele Passarella and published by the Biblioteca Ambrosiana in Milan.

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community? When one’s overlapping communities came into conflict, how did one decide to participate? And what were the repercussions of those decisions? When and how did members leave communities? Who shaped and reshaped the composition of them? Ambrose’s own intricate relationship with his intersecting communities, sometimes seriously and uncompromisingly at odds, yet awaits a more thorough and complex examination. How can archaeological, literary, philosophical, and theological approaches, and others, coordinate to help create a composite picture of Ambrose and his relationships with others, with the city, and with the empire? In the end, one finds that Ambrose, a leading figure in an imperial city during the dynamic transformations of the latter half of the fourth century, participated in many changing and developing communal manifestations. As vir clarissimus and former consularis, Ambrose engaged in Roman governance and, even as bishop, he was sent to bridge the divisions within the imperial community, such as those tensions between emperor and usurper. His many treatises, as well as his hymn writing, established him among the philosophical and literary elite of his time. As bishop, Ambrose served the pastoral needs of his community, such as tending to the poor and offering counsel in matters of personal relationships, and created a network of bishops, who shared advice through letters and met in councils to settle disputes. It is clear, then, that Ambrose built community featuring a diverse and complex blend of religion and philosophy, social networking, politics, patronage, and personal relationships. He engaged with other bishops, vowed women, emperors and their courts, the Senate of Rome, generals and bureaucrats, and cultural elites and merchants. He seems even to have been influential well beyond imperial borders. This volume presents some of the many ways that Ambrose of Milan sought to form or to recreate community amidst the complex socio-political, cultural, and religious contexts of late antiquity. The conference papers, edited and revised for this publication, nuance our understanding of Ambrose’s community-creating efforts by considering his theology, philosophy, Romanness, and Christianity. In their own way, the contributions collected here speak to the transformations of traditional late antique communities, which are sometimes so subtle as to be nearly imperceptible and other times overt and obvious. Concordantly, a reader must wonder whether or not Ambrose deliberately and directly altered or created a community. The first four papers loosely coordinate in their treatment of Ambrose and his people in the Church, including those outside the empire’s borders, patrons and clients, women, and martyrs. The volume begins with Rita Lizzi Testa’s detailed chapter on Ambrose’s influence abroad and at home.

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This historical examination of Ambrose’s interactions with people beyond the borders of Empire is a significant reappraisal of the value of ancient sources. Contrasted with his activities in Milan, it sets a contextual framework for Ambrose’s overlapping and variously sized spheres of community influence. This macroview of Ambrose’s efforts speaks to Roman, Christian, Nicaean, elite, and religious (both clergy and lay) communities. In a dual historical and theological approach, Robert Grant presents Ambrose’s effort to reinterpret traditional Roman patronage. Noting Ambrose’s elite social status, Grant begins by showing Ambrose to be a typical Roman patron. He then counters this image by presenting the poor as patrons of the wealthy and martyrs as patrons of the faithful. Together, these patrons overturn traditional relationships and re-frame the community both toward the common good and eternal salvation. Metha Hokke follows with an insightful study of Ambrose’s shifting hierarchical relationship with consecrated virgins. Hokke focuses on two treatises, De virginibus and De virginitate, working through several metaphors and textual exegeses to determine how Ambrose reorganized his ecclesiastical community, with particular emphasis on its vowed women members. Hokke demonstrates how Ambrose initially elevates vowed virginity to the very pinnacle of holiness. Yet, in the end, Ambrose imposes his own episcopal authority over these communities of women, putting himself clearly between this group and God. Martyrs are the focus of Francesco Braschi’s study, which considers how Ambrose invested in these Christian heroes to unite the ecclesial community. Ambrose set their relics in his churches, told their stories in his sermons and hymns, and included them in the liturgy. In other words, the eternal and ubiquitous presence of the martyrs provided a foundation for Ambrose’s faith community, both Christian and, more specifically, Nicaean. The effectiveness of this concentration on the martyrs to build a Nicaean community of faith is reflected in their continued presence in hymns and the liturgical calendar well after Ambrose’s death and even to the modern era. The next five papers generally address Ambrose’s literary and artistic means of bonding individuals, proposing and promoting a multifaceted aesthetic. Sr. Maria M. Kiely recognizes Ambrose’s appeal to the spiritual and emotional human depths through poetry. Kiely’s exegesis of Ambrose’s commentary on the Song of Songs focuses on its image of the Bride to bond his community to Christ the groom. The Song of Songs offered Ambrose an opportunity to tap into notions of Christian beauty, peace, joy, and love, yet still couched somewhat in classical culture. Then, with an interesting

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application of this community building to a historical event, Kiely provides a new explanation for the popular support Ambrose garnered in the basilica crisis of Easter, 386 AD. Ambrose’s role as teacher is the subject of David VopĜada’s contribution. VopĜada finds Ambrose using the Psalms and David, whom Ambrose believed composed them, to appeal to the audience’s sense of beauty. The mystagogical experience of Christ, expressed in the “poetic beauty” of the psalms, “surpasses the capacity of human intelligence.” Ambrose, performing his pastoral duties in writing catechetical and exegetical works, focused thus on the mystical and the moral in these psalms. Ambrose’s practice of mystagogy is a reflection of Christ’s teaching and a primary means of helping his congregation reach a common understanding of the faith. The next chapter is a posthumous publication by Angela Christman, a deeply respected and admired colleague. Her paper astutely recognizes some clever Ambrosian allusions to Virgil’s Aeneid in his Expositio Psalmi CXVIII. Unlike VopĜada’s mystagogical approach, the linguistic and literary study reveals Ambrose’s more traditional Roman approach to poetry. These references speak especially to the educated elite, eliciting more profound comprehension of the “moral and theological points the bishop was trying to convey.” Here, as with VopĜada, one finds Ambrose employing a range of methods to engage an audience of diverse education. One of Ambrose’s most significant legacies to the Church is his corpus of hymns. As part of the conference, five hymns of Ambrose (one spurious) were performed under the direction of Nathan Windt, following new arrangements by William Campbell. Brian Dunkle, applying the insights of his excellent Enchantment and Creed in the Hymns of Ambrose of Milan, offers here a revision of his paper that opened this concert. Dunkle rightly notes how the singing of hymns unites people simply by virtue of its practice. In other words, singing the same songs together binds individuals. Yet, more careful attention to the lyrics shows that Ambrose sought to link the participants in more specific ways, namely expressing classical and Christian virtues to draw people together and to strengthen ties to the Nicaean church, especially during its contests with homoianism. Dunkle demonstrates too that his hymns continue even now to foster community. In addressing Ambrose’s visual aesthetics, Ethan Gannaway examines an overlooked but pervasive aspect of Ambrose’s writing. Gannaway gazes intently at a specific passage in Ambrose’s Hexameron, identifying the application of traditional and secular modes of seeing and understanding art and noting the Ambrosian innovations concerning beauty. Through this aesthetic language, Ambrose urged his viewers to notice the creative powers below the surface of objects and to recognize the divinity of creation and of

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its creator, linking them to broader notions of virtues, both classical and Christian. Teaching his people how to see the divine in the world through this Roman and Christian philosophical aesthetic, Ambrose built and reshaped a community of viewers, who saw themselves in God's work in this life and prepared them to see themselves in God's eternal domus in the afterlife. The next three papers concentrate on the intellectual communities to which Ambrose belonged. Examining how Ambrose links Cicero’s virtues to building a Christian community, Allan Fitzgerald addresses truth and friendship. Fitzgerald turns his attention to Ambrose’s De officiis in particular, which is itself the fundamental book concerning the responsibilities required to ensure a successful Christian community. In it and in exempla such as David and Job, he finds Ambrose expressing that the search for truth is equivalent to the search for Christ. Thus, Ambrose appears to leave traditional, elite Roman processes of thinking based on Cicero for a Christian one founded on Old Testament virtues. Similarly, Anthony Thomas addresses Ambrose’s interest in true wisdom. His argument focuses on Ambrose’s critique of philosophers, Cicero in particular, and especially Stoic philosophy. Thomas finds Ambrose promoting faith-based over reason-based wisdom, yet locating a place for the precepts and tenets of the philosophers within his Christian view. From this broader viewpoint, Thomas notes a specific censure of Arianism, which, Ambrose asserts, fails to recognize God’s “divinely revealed knowledge.” Ambrose has long been known to have bonded his people together through the development of his Christian ethics. His De officiis is a ready example. J. Warren Smith provides a careful, interdisciplinary reading of Ambrose’s notion of societas and especially misericordia under the thesis that to build a Christian community, one needs to create a distinctly Christian moral vocabulary. For Ambrose, the combination of justice and generosity (misericordia) lay at the foundation of erecting a strong and virtuous Christian community. He contrasts natural law with a distinctly Christian duty and finds in Christ’s incarnation the very core of societas: loving humanity. Finally, regarding Ambrose’s lasting influence, which Braschi and Dunkle briefly consider, Giulia Marconi provides her important research regarding the early reception history of Ambrose. Marconi examines the reappearance of specific phrases and expressions of Ambrose’s De officiis in the works of Ennodius, and the plan to reform Christian education in Rome by Cassiodorus, who noted this Ambrosian work. Ambrose therefore continued to instruct Christians well after his death and well before he was supposedly rediscovered in the Caroliginian period.

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In their own way, each of the authors of this volume probe into ongoing intractable historical and theological debates. Certainly, each chapter is an argument in its own right. Our grouping of complementary chapters provides some initial, if somewhat vague, subthemes. Readers, however, will likely notice other potential assemblages of nonsequential, and potentially conflicting, chapters. Most clearly, perhaps, is how Ambrose’s Roman identity and his Christian identity informed his community building. Where does Ambrose stand on the spectrum of Roman and Christian cultures? Was he a more traditional, elite Roman or Christian bishop? Did he seek an even balance between the two? In the end, is he building a Christian community in opposition to a Roman one, making Christian community Roman, or making Roman community Christian? Some of our contributors will emphasize the former, some the latter, and still others hint at a fusion of sorts between the two. Still other, perhaps less obvious, thematic assemblages can be identified. For example, Ambrose's construction of a local and/or an imperial Christianity offers a religio-political view more in line with typical biographies of the man. Or, in a different way, one might notice that the authors’ research falls into various source groups. Some chapters focus on the Hebrew Bible or, more specifically, on the book of Psalms, yet others on Ambrose’s De officiis. More thematically, one might identify Ambrose and social influence, Ambrose and the arts, Ambrose and philosophy. Education and Ambrose provides yet another example. Just what and how did he teach? And to whom? These subdivisions represent a man that participated in communities that could be independent and dependent, isolated and integrated, preexisting and novel. Ambrose remains something of an enigma, meaning attempts to understand him are inevitably varied, even eclectic, which permits research originating in a variety of cultural and academic contexts. In fact, one explanation for the ongoing revisions of Ambrose’s intentions and goals lies somewhere in the various methodologies of historiography applied to his life. Differences should be expected between, for example, historical theology and theological history, intellectual and religious history, or simply between theology, philosophy, history, linguistics, classics, and other subfields. The sheer volume and diversity of Ambrose’s works (approximately twenty-five of which are cited in this volume), in addition to the remains of his Milan, let alone his own career as elite Roman governor and Christian bishop, make this fertile research ground. This volume does not present the one, true Ambrose, which would be a futile endeavor, but rather highlights the tensions that detailed studies of his thoughts and actions identify, especially through an examination of his

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sense of community. Yet, a reasonably coherent image of Ambrose does begin to emerge, even with so many hands painting the picture. Each contributor assembles evidence to shed light on one or another aspect of Ambrose’s words and works. The conclusions of one may be challenged by the insights of another. The conversation among the papers constitutes a dynamic engagement of collegial scholars who, not coincidentally, construct their own community. Readers are invited to join the conversation. When assembled together, our authors each make a significant contribution, a beautiful tessara, to a composition of a wide-eyed aristocratic priest who dares us to follow his gaze.

CHAPTER ONE AMBROSE AND THE CREATION OF A CHRISTIAN COMMUNITY RITA LIZZI TESTA

From Milan to the World When Paulinus was about to write the Life of St. Ambrose around 422, he had a serious intention of obeying Augustine, following the Lives of other blessed men that the bishop of Hippo had indicated to him as models.1 The former secretary of Ambrose instead, in writing his biography, moved away

1

Paulinus of Milan, Vita Ambrosii 1.1, trans. Mary S. Kaniecka (Washington, D. C.: Catholic University of America, 1928): “You urge, reverend father Augustine, that just as those blessed men, the Bishop Athanasius and the priest Jerome described with their pens the lives of Saint Paul and Anthony who lived in the desert, just as also Severus, a servant of God, composed in elegant language the life of the reverend Martin, Bishop of the Church of Tours, so too, I describe with my pen the life of the blessed Ambrose, Bishop of the Church of Milan.” The dating of the VA has always oscillated between 412/13 and 422, but despite some decades ago when Émilien Lamirande, “La datation de la Vita Ambrosii,” Revue des Études Augustiniennes 27 (1981): 44-55, and Paulin de Milan et la “Vita Ambrosii:” Aspects de la religion sous le Bas-Empire (Paris: Desclée, 1983), 21-24, strongly supported the former date, I think we must accept 422 AD as the year of composition of the work, following the solid arguments put forward by Elena Zocca, “La Vita Ambrosii alla luce dei rapporti fra Paolino, Agostino e Ambrogio,” in “Nec timeo mori:” Atti del Congresso internazionale di studi ambrosiani nel XVI centenario della morte di sant’Ambrogio (Milano, 4-11 aprile 1997), ed. Luigi Pizzolato and Marco Rizzi (Milan: Bulzoni Editore, 1998), 803-26; Lellia Cracco Ruggini, “Tra Ambrogio e Agostino, tra Milano e l’Africa,” Annali di Studi Religiosi 2 (2001): 503-17; Marco Navoni, Paolino di Milano. Vita di Sant’Ambrogio (Vetera sed Nova) (Milan: San Paolo Edizioni, 2016), 50-51.

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from them in several aspects.2 His was the first episcopal biography proper, and Ambrose, who had exercised his charisms on the political scene,3 had been an exceptional character, so that his fame, uncontainable within the borders of the Empire, had soon gone well over them. Three passages in particular from his Life of St Ambrose vividly show what kind of bishop, famous throughout the world, Ambrose was after around fifteen years in this role. Not always, however, is it possible to check the information of this work, although Paulinus reassured the reader that everything he had written was the result of personal testimonies or acquired by highly reliable figures (such as Ambrose's sister). 4 It is therefore necessary to examine these passages, which have scarcely attracted the attention of scholars, since they

2

The function performed by Paulinus of Milan seems to have been that of a notarius, who evaluated Ambrose’s correspondence (VA 49) and wrote his treatises under dictation (VA 42.1). For the growing importance that the notarii, once low-ranking figures, acquired both in the imperial and episcopal chancelleries, see Hans Teitler, Notarii and exceptores: An Inquiry into Role and Significance of Shorthand Writers in the Imperial and Ecclesiastical Bureaucracy of the Roman Empire from the Early Principate to c. 450 A.D., (Amsterdam: Brill, 1985); Jean-Michel Carrié, “Notarii.” in Late Antiquity: A Guide to the Postclassical World, ed. Glen Bowersock, Peter Brown, and Oleg Grabar (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1999), 611-12. It is not surprising that Paulinus of Milan passed from the dependencies of a deacon (VA 42.39) to the role of deacon himself. It is therefore possible to identify Ambrose's biographer with the deacon Paulinus quoted by Augustine in 418: De gratia Christi et de peccato originali II.3; 8; 26 (PL 44, 386-389; 397), and Aug., Ep. 29 (CSEL 88.137-48, ed. Divjak), and with the Paulinus quidam diaconus mentioned in Praedestinatus 1.88 (PL 53, 617) as defensor et procurator ecclesiae Mediolanensis, a deacon who took care of the interests of the Milanese Church in Africa. 3 On the nature of the VA as the first episcopal biography proper, see Christine Mohrmann “Zwei frühchristliche Bischofsviten: Vita Ambrosii, Vita Augustini,” Anzeiger der philosophisch-historischen Klasse der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften 112 (1975), 307. On the special nature of the Ambrosian charism, see Rita Lizzi Testa, “Tra i classici e la Bibbia: l'otium come forma di santità episcopale,” in Modelli di santità e modelli di comportamento: contrasti, intersezioni, complementarietà, ed. by Giulia Barone, Marina Caffiero, and Francesco Scorza Barcellona (Torino: Rosenberg & Sellier, 1994), 43-64; Cracco Ruggini, 2001, 50717; Rita Lizzi Testa, “Martino vescovo santo: un modello di santità nell’Occidente tardoantico,” Cristianesimo nella Storia 29 (2008): 317-44. 4 Paulinus of Milan, VA 1.3: in addition to his direct testimony and that of Marcellina, the sister of Ambrose, Paulinus refers to the probatissimi viri (men very worthy of trust), who were close to Ambrose before him, and to oral and written sources that he had collected.

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give a geographical dimension to the Christian community that the bishop of Milan was building.

Ambrose and the Persians At the same time two of the most powerful and wisest men of the Persians, because of the fame of the bishop, came to Milan, bringing with them many questions that thereby they might make trial of the wisdom of the great man, and with him they argued through an interpreter from the first hour of the day until the third hour of the night, and they went away full of wonder. And to show that they had come for no other reason than really to get better acquainted with the man whom they had heard of by report, on the next day bidding farewell to the emperor they set out for the city of Rome, wishing there to become acquainted with the power of the illustrious man Probus; and when they had become acquainted with him, they returned to their own home.5

There are various reasons for suspecting this extract of being a biographer’s invention. There is the recurrence of a frequent topos in the biographies of famous men, in which it was common to introduce figures from distant lands, who undertook long voyages for the sole purpose of meeting them. Furthermore, Paulinus establishes a seemingly rather naive correspondence: as the two Persians were extremely powerful and learned, they wanted to test Ambrose’s wisdom in Milan and acquaint themselves with Probus’ power in Rome. The writer also excludes the possibility that these men from Persia were ambassadors on an official mission, underlining that they merely wished to pay their respects to the emperor before leaving for Rome and after spending many hours with Ambrose. This also creates such a lack of symmetry between the time given to the bishop, that given to the emperor, and the fleeting visit to the powerful vir illustris Probus, as to suggest that the whole story was invented to exalt the bishop. Though these observations, put together, might lead one to dismiss the episode as implausible, other historical considerations tend to confirm its truth. We need, first of all, to shed light on the date of this journey from distant Persia to Milan and Rome. Paulinus mentions it immediately after describing what had happened in Thessalonica in 390, 6 so that some commentators of the Vita Ambrosii have thought that the phrase used to introduce it, per idem tempus (in that same period), was intended to place it around 391, when the news of the massacre ordered by Theodosius and 5 6

Paulinus of Milan, VA 25.1-2. Paulinus of Milan, VA 24.

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Ambrose’s reaction to it could even have reached the East.7 However, as Probus might already have died in the course of 388, it has been suggested that the Latin word potentia, which appears at the end of the extract, might have the sense of domus, as if the Persians had gone, not to visit him, but his house, the famous domus Aniciana.8 There is no need to force the text in this way. The term cognoscere does not suggest a tourist visit to admire a sumptuous palace, but the desire to question a man about political projects which had brought him so much power. Moreover, Paulinus never uses the expression per idem tempus to give a precise chronological indication—something required neither in a biography nor in the Life of a saint. “In that same period” is for Paulinus a convenient transitional phrase, frequently used to move from one subject to another and to indicate, by means of a general time reference, that this second event happened more or less “at the same time” as that described above. Just before speaking of Thessalonica, the biographer recounted the episode of Callinicum, which took place in 388.9 The phrase might, then, have the sense of ‘in the same period’ as Callinicum. The little village was on the borders of Syria—now ar-Raqqah—from which the news could quickly have reached neighboring Persia (Fig. 1-1). According to Theodoret, if we accept an attractive conjecture by Jean-Remy Palanque, Theodosius exclaimed on the very subject of Callinicum: “Now I know indeed that Ambrose alone has the right to be called a bishop.”10 Only then had the emperor finally understood what a bishop was. Moreover, Theodoret was bishop of Cyrrhus, a city about sixty kilometers from Berea (Aleppo) in Syria. What had happened in 388 in that Syrian settlement and its repercussions in Milan might have aroused no less interest than the meeting between emperor and bishop after the massacre of Thessalonica; in both cases the consequence was an unprecedented confrontation between the Christian bishop and the Roman emperor. 7

Michele Pellegrino, Paolino di Milano: Vita di S. Ambrogio (Rome: Editrice Studium 1961), 88. 8 Angelo Paredi, “Paulinus of Milan,” Sacris Erudiri 14 (1963): 226; cf. Navoni 2016, 121, n. 100. 9 Paulinus of Milan, VA 22-23. 10 Theodoret, Historia ecclesiastica 5.18.2: cf. 5.24 (GCS N.F. 5, ed. Ch. Hansen, Berlin 1998). For Jean-Remy Palanque, Saint Ambroise et l’empire romain. Contribution à l’histoire des rapports de l’Église et de l’État à la fin du quatrième siècle (Paris: E. de Boccard, 1933), 220, the sentence that Theodoret attributes to Theodosius could refer to a judgment expressed by the emperor after the confrontation he had in church with Ambrose on the events that occurred at Callinicum.

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Obviously, the Christians of the Sasanian Empire were the first to be interested in these facts, but they were not alone in this.11 Intermittently persecuted for four decades during the reign of Shapur II (309-79), as testified by the so-called Acts of the Persian Martyrs,12 after his death they began to benefit from the détente between the two empires.13 A peace treaty was signed by Theodosius with Shapur III in 387, ratifying the division of Armenia into a western smaller region under the Eastern Roman Empire and an eastern one entrusted to the Sasanians. That treaty, in particular, improved the conditions of the Christians in the cities of Mesopotamia.14 11

The Sasanid Empire had a considerable Christian population, many of them captured Romans who were often Christian: Samuel N. C. Lieu, Manichaeism in the Later Roman Empire and Medieval China. A Historical Survey (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1985), 481-7; Jan Willem Drijvers, “Rome and the Sasanid Empire: Confrontation and Coexistence.” in A Companion to Late Antiquity, ed. Philip Rousseau (Oxford: Blackwell, 2009), 445 and 451. 12 The so-called Acts of the Persian Martyrs, which circulated widely west of the frontier as well, were an important medium through which Roman Christians became aware of their cousins in Iran: Elizabeth Key Fowden, “Martyr Cult on the Frontier: The Case of Mayperqat,” chap. 2 in The Barbarian Plain: Saint Sergius between Rome and Iran (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999), 45-59. Most of the martyrs gained their crowns during four decades of the reign of Shapur II. Although modern scholarship no longer accepts the idea of a Zoroastrian state church (Drijvers, “Rome and the Sasanid Empire,” 444), it is sure that Sasanian kings supported Zoroastrianism and its religious leaders, as the great number of firetemples that have been found show: Béatrice Caseau, “Sacred Landscapes,” in Late Antiquity. A Guide to the Postclassical World, ed. Glen Bowersock, Peter Brown, and Oleg Grabar (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999), 45. Sasanian kings gave Zoroastrianism and its hierarchized priesthood a certain degree of dominion over other religions, in times of internal and political problems. 13 Michael Whitby, The Emperor Maurice and His Historian: Theophylact Simocatta on Persian and Balkan Warfare (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), 202-11, and Drijvers, “Rome and the Sasanid Empire,” 446, believe that the relations between the Sasanians and Roman Empire went through three main phases. After the first (226-363) of serious hostilities, the second phase (363-ca. 500) saw only a few conflicts and was characterized by coexistence and cooperation. The third phase (ca. 500-630) was mainly marked by mutual suspicion and warfare. 14 Arnold H. M. Jones, The Later Roman Empire 284-602. A Social Economic and Administrative Survey (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1964), 1:158; Arnold H. M. Jones, The Cities of the Eastern Roman Provincies (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971), 224-26, and 444-45, n. 15. The Roman share was by far the smaller, only about one-fifth of the Kingdom of Armenia, and was not brought under the normal provincial system. The hereditary satraps continued to rule their people according to

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Paulinus denies that the two learned and powerful Persians were ambassadors who had come to visit the emperor in Milan, and he seems to be right in this. The agreements had earlier been completed, and their journey was probably the first result of a treaty that—like all the pacts that had been stipulated with Persia since Constantine—entailed guarantees for the tolerance of Christians by the new Sasanian authorities.15 This tolerance, however, did not mean full rights of existence as Christians, and it took many more meetings and negotiations in the next ten years before the King of Kings Yazdegird recognized, in 399, the right of Christians to meet in synods and gave the bishop of Seleucia-Ctesiphon the title of katholikos, spokesman of all the Christians in his empire.16 The arrival of the Persians can be placed between either 388-89 or 38991 AD. We know that they went to greet the emperor in Milan, not in Rome. 17 The meeting with Theodosius may have taken place after 10 October 388, when the emperor reached Milan after defeating Maximus in Aquileia (28 August 388),18 and before the summer of 389, since on 13 July 389 he went to Rome to present his five-year-old son Honorius to the Armenian law, but on accession they received the insignia of their office from the Roman emperor instead of from the Armenian king: Roger C. Blockley, East Roman Foreign Policy: Formation and Conduct from Diocletian to Anastasius (Leeds: Caims,1992), 42-45, and Drijvers, “Rome and the Sasanid Empire,” 447. 15 Religion was a source of friction between the Romans and the Sasanians, especially because the Roman emperors from Constantine onward considered themselves the self-appointed patrons of Christians both inside and outside the boundaries of their realm, and therefore also of those living in Persia (Eusebius., Vita Constantini 4.9-13): Drijvers, “Rome and the Sasanid Empire,” 445. 16 Richard Lim, “Christian Triumph and Controversy,” in Late Antiquity. A Guide to the Postclassical World, ed. Glen Bowersock, Peter Brown, and Oleg Grabar (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999), 210, n. 102. 17 Angelo Paredi, S. Ambrogio e la sua età, rev. ed. (1960; repr., Milan: Jaca Book, 2015), 295-96, proposed to date the arrival of the Persians in Rome in 388, believing that Theodosius went to Rome after defeating Maximus during that year. From the text (VA 25.2), however, it is clear that the two Persians greeted the emperor in Milan before going to Rome. Pellegrino, 1961, 88, did not exclude that the Persians could have reached Ambrose in 391. 18 Before the battle, Valentinian II and his mother had fled to Thessalonica, where they rejoined with Petronius Probus, who had already left Italy: Socrates, Historia ecclesiastica 5.11.11-12 (PG 67). Sozomen, Historia ecclesiastica 7.13.11 (PG 67), unlike Socrates, suggests that the three fled together to Thessalonica when Maximus invaded Italy. Zosimus Historia nova 4.43-44, ed. François Paschoud (Zosime. Histoire Nouvelle. Tome II, 2e partie. Livre IV, Paris 2003, 311-12), remembers the Empress Justina’s use of the seductive attractions of her daughter Galla to induce Theodosius to declare open hostility to Maximus, in return for her hand in marriage.

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Senate, receiving the praises of the Gallic panegyrist Latinius Pacatus Drepanius.19 But they may have met Theodosius also in 389-91 because the emperor left Rome for Milan again at the end of August 389.20 During the previous spring or summer of 390, the events in Thessalonica took place.21 That autumn, in Milan, he was facing Ambrose and in Milan he remained until the departure for Constantinople in 391.22 The two Persians were able to get an interview with Probus in Rome also on this later date, because it is not absolutely certain that he was then already dead. In one of the many epigraphic dedications addressed to him, it is said that he was born around 328 and died at sixty, but the year of his death is not at all certain.23 We may suppose that the arrival of the two Persians was remembered as an exceptional event simply because, after the agreement of 387 AD and about fifty years of wars and treaties, it had inaugurated a new season of contacts between the two imperial courts, but with unofficial visitors, whose destination was Milan and Rome, not Constantinople. What kind of information they were interested in acquiring may be deduced from those they contacted. Sextus Petronius Probus may still have been alive in 390/91 and willing to receive them in his luxurious Roman residence. He had dominated the western scene for twenty years and had been repeatedly in charge of the most important praetorian prefectures in the West during the reigns of Valentinian I, Gratian, Valentinian II, and Theodosius. He had suggested appointments, drafted treaties, covered 19

Socrates, HE 5.14.3; Claudian, De VI consulatu Honorii augusti 53ff., ed. Michael Dewar (Oxford, 1996). The last in date of the twelve so-called Panegyrici Latini was delivered by Latinius Pacatus Drepanius (a younger friend of Ausonius) before Theodosius in Rome sometime between June and August 389 AD: C. E. V. Nixon and Barbara S. Rodgers, In Praise of Later Roman Emperors: The Panegyrici Latini (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 443. On its author, Alan Cameron, The Last Pagans of Rome (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 227-30. 20 The Chronicles report the dates of Theodosius’arrival and departure from Rome: Cons. Const. s.a. 389; Chronicon. miscellaneum 1, 245; Marcell. Com., s.a. 389; Chron. Min. 2.62, ed. Th. Mommsen (MGH AA 9, Berlin, 1892). 21 John F. Matthews, Western Aristocracies and Imperial Court (A. D. 364-425) (Oxford: Clarendon Press 1990), 234. 22 The displacements of Theodosius departing towards the East can be reconstructed from the places of issue of the constitutions against the paganism during the summer of 391: Matthews, Western Aristocracies, 236-38. 23 CIL 6.1756; PLRE I, s.v. Sex. Claudius Petronius Probus 5, 736-40. Cf. also Federico A. Poglio, “Una lite giudiziaria tra Aurelio Simmaco e Petronio Probo: a proposito di Amm., Epp. 2, 28; 30[-31] e 3, 4.” MEFRA 120 (2008), 149-61, who suggested to date in 389, after Maximus’fall, the lawsuit between Quintus Aurelius Symmachus and Probus.

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sudden power gaps by supporting the acclamation of a new emperor, and he had saved the autonomy of the western part of empire, indicating to the senate of Rome how to support this political project against the designs of the usurper Maximus. 24 For his part, Ambrose, while he supported the politics of Probus and the senate with his legations to Maximus, also forged a new type of bishop-priest, re-employing a great Old-Testament model. In exercising a power of sanction over the emperor, he transformed the humiliation of the baptized sovereign into the royal virtue of humility.25 In their different ways, Ambrose and Probus were therefore the most suitable figures of the time to give concrete responses to those who wanted to understand the relations between Christianity and empire, and how the Christian faith might even modify the absolute power of an emperor, if he was a Christian and a baptized emperor. After the sack of Rome in 410, Probus’ widow Anicia Faltonia Proba was in Africa, staying with Augustine, like Paulinus. There she may well have mentioned to the biographer the unusual arrival of the two Persian guests in the West and the importance of the discussions in Milan and Rome.26 In 399 the good relations between the Roman and Persian empires had reached the point that, in his will, the Eastern emperor Arcadius (395408) made Yazdegird I guardian of his son Theodosius, who was still a child, charging him to keep the throne for him.27 When he was writing the Vita Ambrosii in Africa around 422, Paulinus knew that the King of Kings was still honoring his commitment, so that that first exploratory journey of 24 The number and geographic partitions of his prefectures have long been debated: Rita Lizzi Testa, Senatori, popolo, papi. Il governo di Roma al tempo dei Valentiniani (Bari: Edipuglia, 2004), 316-19. New testimonies from Gortyna allow advancing important hypotheses about Probus’ career: Pierfrancesco Porena, “Le iscrizioni del Pretorio di Gortina e la carriera prefettizia di Sex. Petronius Probus,” in Senatori romani nel Pretorio di Gortyna. Le statue di Asclepiodotus e la politica di Graziano dopo Adrianopoli, ed. Francesca Bigi and Ignazio Tantillo (Pisa: Edizioni della Normale, 2020), 87-141. 25 On Ambrose’s legations to Magnus Maximus, see Rita Lizzi Testa, “L'autorità del concilio di Serdica in Occidente: testimonianze ambrosiane (epp. 30, 2-3; 72, 10),” in Autorità e recezione dei concili, ed. Giuseppe Ruggieri (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2019), 41-53; for Ambrose’s new type of bishop-priest, see Gilbert Dagron, Empereur et prМtre. Étude sur le “césaropapisme byzantin” (Paris: Gallimard, 1996), 304. 26 Although not in reference to this episode, Antoon A. R. Bastiaensen, Vita di Cipriano—Vita di Ambrogio—Vita di Agostino (Milan: Fondazione Lorenzo Valla, 1975), 287 and 307, suggested that Anicia Faltonia Proba had informed Paulinus of the links between Ambrose and Probus. 27 Drijvers, “Rome and the Sasanid Empire,” 450; Blockley, East Roman Foreign Policy, 51.

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the two learned and powerful Persians that had experienced the new climate of détente between Rome and Persia appeared to be still more relevant. This episode, with which Paulinus shows that Ambrose’s fame had then even reached the fabled land of Persia, should certainly be regarded as a historical fact. This is further confirmed by Ambrose’s detractors repeatedly underlining the “bishop’s proud intolerance,” an effect of his “worldly potentia,”28 alluding to his previous experience as an imperial functionary and insinuating that his election by popular acclamation had been orchestrated by Valentinian I in agreement with Probus, his plenipotentiary praetorian prefect. If the arrival of the two Persians in Milan had not been true, however great the notarius Paulinus’ simplicitas may have been, it would have been truly incredible that he should have invented a story to extol his bishop that could be added to those his adversaries already had for denigrating him.

Ambrose and the Franks A more complex example comes from a passage from the Vita Ambrosii that projects the fame of Ambrose’s supposedly extraordinary powers beyond the borders of the Roman Empire into Northern Europe: At the same time Count Arbogastes prepared for war against his people, namely the Franks, and he valiantly routed a no small number in a battle, and with the rest he made peace. But when at a banquet he was asked by the princes of his nation whether he knew Ambrose, and after he replied that he knew the man and was loved by him and was wont to dine with him frequently, he heard: “So you conquer, Count, because you are beloved by that man who says to the sun: ‘stand and it stands’.” And so I have set this down that my readers may know what fame the holy man had even among barbarian peoples. For we also know this on the report of a certain young man of Arbogastes, very religious, who was present; for at the time at which they said these things he was cupbearer.29

It is somewhat difficult to believe that the Franks beyond the borders, who were pagans down to the late fifth or early sixth century,30 were familiar 28

Palladius, Apologia, 124, ed. Gryson, 308: for Palladius of Ratiaria precisely the proud intolerance of Ambrose, in collusion with the adrogantia Damasi, had imposed the decisions of the Council of Aquileia of 381. 29 Paulinus of Milan, VA 30.1-2. 30 The conversion of the Frankish people officially came with that of their king Clovis. The letter with which Avitus (Ep. 46) congratulates Clovis for his baptism

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with the biblical phrase with which, after conquering Jericho, Ai, and Gibeon, Joshua asked God to stop the sun and moon until he had conquered the Amorite kings and made himself master of Southern Canaan.31 It may have been “the most pious young man in the service of Arbogastes,” a witness of the episode and one of Paulinus’ direct sources, who gave a biblical re-reading of the conversation between the Frankish chieftains.32 Or, more probably, in my view, it was Paulinus himself who formulated the phrase in question. Assimilating Ambrose to Joshua, the minister of Moses who, inspired by a divine vision, had conquered the Promised Land for his people, Paulinus made his bishop the real “source” of the military victories of the Roman Empire, as well as for the liberation of Florence by Radagaisus and the clash between Mascezel and Gildon.33 Even without drawing on Scripture, however, it is plausible that, in peace talks over lunch with conquered enemies willing to be foederati of the empire, Arbogastes should have boasted of his friendship with a bishop, whose great capacity for political negotiations and enormous generosity towards prisoners and the poor those Frankish chieftains were already familiar with. The purposes of the Frankish general, however, could have been very different from those for which Paulinus quoted the conversation at the banquet. This event is usually placed in 392-393, when Arbogastes was in seems not earlier than 501, if not even 508. Danuta Shanzer and Ian Wood, ed. and trans., Avitus of Vienne: Letters and Selected Prose (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2002), 362-69; Alain Dierkens, “Il battesimo di Clodoveo (Natale 508?),” in Roma e i Barbari: La nascita di un nuovo mondo, ed. Jean-Jacques Aillagon (Milan: Skira, 2008), 350-51, but before receiving baptism, he had married the Catholic Clotilde, Chilperic’s daughter, and had accepted that baptism was conferred on sons. 31 Jo 10, 12ff. 32 Navoni, 2011, 173-74. 33 Paulinus of Milan, VA 50, 2: Ambrose foretells liberation from the siege (of Radagaisus) of the Florentines; VA 51: Mascezel declares to Paulinus that Ambrose appeared in the night before the battle, showing him with his baculum the exact place where he could defeat Gildo. The latter was Mascezel’s brother, magister utriusque militiae per Africam, who revolted against the Romans and had been declared hostis publicus in September 397: PLRE I, s.v. Mascezel, 560. Paulinus, as later authors as well, depended on Ambrose’s theology of imperial victory, which the bishop formulated in his narrative of the usurpation and Battle of Frigidus, emphasizing imperial victory as proof of the power of the faithful orthodox emperor: Giuseppe Zecchini, “S. Ambrogio e le origini del motivo della vittoria incruenta,” Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia 38 (1984): 391-404. For divine aid in Roman battles in general, see Alexander Demandt, “Römische Entscheidungsschlachten,” in Westillyricum und Nordsttitalien in der spätrömischen Zeit, ed. Raiko Bratož (Ljubliana: Ljubliana Narodni muzei, 1996), 31-43.

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Vienne, from which it was usual for a general to conduct punitive expeditions to the borders of Gaul.34 That victorious campaign was the last Roman success on the far bank of the Rhine, one of the many military enterprises that Arbogastes had successfully conducted.35 In those years, though they had different roles, both Ambrose and Arbogastes had been involved in some of the most important events in the life of the Roman Empire in the West. As Arbogastes was still comes rei militaris, in 380, the Emperor Gratian had sent him as subordinate of Bauto to aid Theodosius against the Goths after the serious defeat of Adrianople. At the same time, in Milan, Ambrose ransomed the many prisoners that the Goths had taken during that battle, even selling church plate to do so.36 And, though Ambrose had managed, with his two missions to Trier, to prevent Maximus from invading Italy after killing the emperor Gratian at Lugdunum (Lyon) in 383, Arbogastes had been the real author of the usurper’s end. During the campaign that Theodosius had finally decided to undertake, it was he who had captured Maximus in 388 and killed his son Victor in Gaul.37 And so Arbogastes and Ambrose had often crossed each other’s path in those years. Furthermore, when Valentinian II was found dead on 15 May 392, hanged in his quarters in Vienne, Arbogastes claimed it was suicide. This was probably true, but various versions were circulating, and Rufinus, Sozomen, and Zosimus (the latter two drawing on Eunapius’ 34

Marco Navoni, “I Barbari nella Vita Ambrosii di Paolino da Milano,” in Ambrogio e i barbari, ed. Isabella Gualandri and Raffaele Passarella, Studia Ambrosiana 5 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 2011): 131. In the previous paragraphs (VA 27-29) Paulinus narrated Ambrose’s departure to Florence (to avoid meeting Eugenius who came to Milan from Gaul) and also his return to Milan. All these events took place between the end of summer 393 and August 394, but the expression per idem tempus never gives a precise chronological indication. 35 Gregory of Tours, Historia francorum 22.9 (quoting Sulpicius Alexander). Arbogastes made restorations at Cologne, as it is possible to infer from CIL 13.8262 = ILS 790: [Salvis domini]s et imperatoribus nost[ris Fl(avio) Theodo]sio Fl(avio) Arcadio et Fl(avio) Eugenio / [--- vetustat]e conlabsam(!) iussu viri cl)arissimi) / [et inlustris Arboga]stis comitis, et instantia v(iri) c(larissimi) / [ --- co]mitis domesticorum ei(us) / [---]s ex integro opere faciun / [dam cura]vit magister p(---) Aelius [---]. Cf. AE 1953, 271 and AE 1990, 738. Some interesting essays regarding its date of 392-394 AD appear on the Epigraphic Database Heidelberg, accessed August 20, 2020, https://edh-www.adw.uni-heidelberg.de/edh/inschrift/HD018791/. 36 Zosimus, HN 4.33.1-2; cf. Zosimus HN 4.53.1, and Eunapius, fragment 53. The date is probably 380, since Theodosius had already left Macedonia to go to Constantinople. Ambrose, De officiis 2.15.70 (Summa etiam liberalitas, captos redimere . . .); 71; 73; 2.28.141. 37 Pacatus, Panegyricus 44.2; Zosimus HN 4.47.1.

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contemporary account) reported that outside Vienne Arbogastes assassinated Valentinian II in front of his soldiers.38 For his part Ambrose preferred to pass over the causes of death in his funeral speech for the young emperor.39 A few months later, however, on 22 August 392, Arbogastes opted for open rebellion, proclaiming Flavius Eugenius emperor at Lyon.40 Eugenius sent at least two embassies to Constantinople for Theodosius to recognize him as legitimate emperor, 41 but the latter was not convinced even by Arbogastes' last successful campaign against the Franks. He rejected Eugenius’ offer to share with him the consulship of 393, which he instead took for himself and his general Abundantius. In January 393, moreover, he raised his second son, Honorius, to the rank of Augustus. In response to Theodosius' intransigence, by April 393, Eugenius moved to Italy and was recognized at Rome.42 Arbogastes' conversation, to which Paulinus refers, took place between August 392 and April 393. It was probably part of a broader strategy, by which the Frankish general attempted to put pressure on Ambrose, reminding him of their “great familiarity,” so that he could not fail to spend himself on the recognition of Eugenius, which Ambrose, as we know, did not. According to Paulinus, before joining battle against Theodosius at Frigidus, Arbogastes and Nicomachus Flavianus Senior, the praetorian prefect, promised that, if they returned as victors, “they would turn the Basilica of Milan into a stable, and enlist the clergy in the army.”43 Many have wondered how to reconcile such contradictory information as Paulinus provides in two closely placed passages in the Vita Ambrosii. Alan Cameron has recently questioned the substance of those threats: “The threat about the clergy is sufficiently unrealistic to look more like a joke, and the threat about the stable is a commonplace."44 Taking the latter first, supposing that it was 38

Sozomen, HE 7.22.2; Rufinus, Histora ecclesiastica 11.31 (ed. Th. Mommsen, Berlin, 1908, 957-1040); Zosimus, HN 4.54.3. 39 Ambrose gave his speech (De obitu Valentiniani) two months after the death of Valentinian II, according to De obitu Valentiniani 49, ed. O. Faller (CSEL 73, Wien 1945) It was some time before Arbogastes proclaimed Eugenius emperor of the West, since there is no mention of this in Ambrose’s speech. On his reticence in talking about the causes of Valentinian II’s death, see John H. W. G. Liebeschuetz, Ambrose of Milan. Political Letters and Speeches (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press 2005), 358-63. 40 Chron. min. 1.298; 517. Eugenius was magister of a scrinium at the time of his elevation (Socrates, HE 5.25.1; PLRE I, s. v. Eugenius 6). 41 Zosimus, HN 4.55.4; Rufinus, HE 11.31 (one embassy of clerics). 42 Matthews, Western Aristocracies, 239-40. 43 Paulinus of Milan, VA 31.2. 44 Cameron, The Last Pagans, 84.

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a commonplace, it only became one after, and not before, the Battle of Frigidus, as the oldest allusion to such a threat is in a letter from Jerome to Heliodorus on the death of Nepotian, dated with certainty to 396.45 As for “enlisting the clergy in the army,” this was anything but unrealistic. Two laws issued in the space of a few months in 383 in Milan and Constantinople, and confirmed later by Theodosius in 386, threatened to enlist the curial clergy if they had not left their goods to a close relative or city council before taking their vows.46 It did not mean enlisting in the army as such, but the many public services (munera civilia) required of members of the curia, from which the clergy were exempt, were a burden both on the time and financial resources of citizens, who were obliged to perform them both on the basis of birth (origo) and personal means (possidendi condicio).47 This means that Arbogastes and Nicomachus Flavianus Senior may have alluded to the fact that, if victory was theirs, they would not grant another amnesty to any clergy who had broken the law previously, as Theodosius had done in 390, probably under pressure from Ambrose.48 Cameron, however, also challenges the authorship of these threats. Referring to the battle of Frigidus, Ambrose recalled “faithless and sacrilegious men threatening the churches of the Lord with cruel persecution,” without naming these pagans.49 Paulinus may have been mistaken, then, in 45

Jerome, Ep. 60.16.3. The examples quoted by Cameron, The Last Pagans, 84 (“after ten minutes’ Googlings”) are all chronologically later. 46 Codex Theodosianus 12.1.99, from Milan, on 18 April 383 ad Hypatium PPO (Italiae), ed. Th. Mommsen and P. M. Meyer (Berlin, 1905); CTh 12.1.104 Postumiano Praefecto Praetorio (7 November 383); CTh 12.1.115 (31 December 386) ad Cynegium PPO (Orientis). 47 These munera (mandatory tax services) involved the collection of taxes, organizing transport for the supply of armies or the annona, taking care of and supervising public works such as the rebuilding of roads and being responsible for mail services. The jurist Arcadius Carisius (ca. third-fourth century AD) provides an almost complete list of such munera in his Liber singularis de muneribus civilibus, which is almost entirely reproduced in Dig. 50.4.18: Francesco Grelle, “Arcadio Carisio, l'officium del prefetto del pretorio e i munera civilian,” Index 1 (1987): 6377. Hermann Horstkotte, “Systematische Aspekte der munera publica in der römischen Kaiserzeit,” ZPE 111 (1996): 233-55, and Carsten Drecoll, Die Liturgien im römischen Kaiserreich des 3. Und 4. Jh. N. Chr., Historia Einzelschriften 116 (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1997) give a systematic classification of these services. 48 CTh 12.1.121 (17 June 390) ad Tatianum PPO (Orientis). Rita Lizzi Testa, “‘Praesul et possessor’: Ambrogio e la proprietà privata,” in Ambrogio e la questione sociale, ed. Raffaele Passarella, Studia Ambrosiana 10 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 2017), 54-65, shows in which context Ambrose convinced Theodosius to issue an amnesty. 49 Ambrose, Explanatio Psalmorum XII 36.25.

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attributing the phrase to Arbogastes, who could not have claimed such familiarity with the bishop if he had been a pagan.50 Indeed, for Cameron, Arbogastes was Christian and of Christian parentage, being the son of Bauto, who, according to Ambrose, was Christian.51 Here is not the place to discuss the validity of Cameron’s original view that only a small number of Roman aristocrats such as Quintus Aurelius Symmachus and Nicomachus Flavianus Senior were still pagans at the end of the fourth century.52 Nonetheless, the fact is that the testimonies he cites to prove that Arbogastes was a Christian are disputable. 53 Ambrose, for example, did not hesitate to defend Bauto against Maximus, who accused Bauto of seeking the kingdom for himself in the name of Valentinian II, unleashing the barbarians against him (qui sibi regnum sub specie pueri vindicare voluit, qui etiam barbaros mihi inmisit). Although, in 384 it was Bauto and Rumoridus (who was also a Frank) who had opposed Ambrose and initially supported the petition of the pagan aristocrats who wanted to restore the altar of Victory in the curia. 54 Thanks to his extraordinary 50

Cameron, The Last Pagans, 85. Cameron, The Last Pagans, 85: “Was Arbogastes even a pagan? So it has generally assumed—on the evidence of Paulinus of Milan. But the only other text to say so is Orosius, who undoubtedly drew on Paulinus of Milan. Two texts suggest that he was actually a Christian. According to John of Antioch, Arbogastes was the son of Bauto, and Ambrose implies that Bauto was a Christian.” 52 For a more detailed analysis of Cameron’s volume, see Rita Lizzi Testa, ed., The Strange Death of Pagan Rome. Reflexions on a Historiographical Controversy (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013) and Rita Lizzi Testa, “The Last Pagans of Rome: la fine del paganesimo a Roma, tra consensi e polemiche,” in Pagani e cristiani: conflitto, confronto, dialogo. Le trasformazioni di un modello storiografico: Convegno Internazionale di Studi (Città del Vaticano 13-15 novembre 2019), ed. Giulia Sfameni Gasparro and Enrico Dal Covolo, in press. 53 Cameron, The Last Pagans, 85, following PLRE I, s.v. Flavius Bauto, 158-60, believes that Ambrose, Ep. extra coll. 10.3, CSEL 82.3: 206-7 (“Aderat amplissimo honore magisterii militaris Bauto comes et Rumoridus, et ipse eiusdem dignitatis gentilium nationum cultui inserviens in primis pueritiae suae annis.”) is proof that Bauto was Christian, because Ambrose seems to say that only Rumoridus was pagan. But, contra, Lellia Cracco Ruggini, “Les généraux francs aux IVe-Ve siècles et leurs groupes aristocratiques,” in Clovis: histoire & mémoire, vol. 1, Clovis et son temps: l'événement, ed. Michel Rouche (Paris: Sorbonne Plus, 1997), 681, n. 33, believes that et ipse does indicate that Bauto comes et Rumoridus shared not only the dignitas of the magisterium militum and barbaric origin but also their paganism, and for this reason, Zosimus HN 4.33, appreciated both of them. 54 Ambrose, Ep. 30.4 and 7, CSEL 82.1: 210-212, defending Bauto; the two comites were in consistory when the question of the altar was discussed: Ambrose, Ep. extra coll. 10.2-3. 51

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military talent, Bauto replaced the pagan Praetextatus, who had been designated consul for 385, after the latter’s sudden death in December 384, and it was Augustine, the official orator of Milan before his conversion, who delivered his panegyric. 55 We can get some idea of the influence this Frankish general then enjoyed, as well as of his probable wealth, from the fact that his daughter Aelia Eudoxia, who had moved to Constantinople after her father’s death on 27 April 395, married the son of Theodosius, the emperor Arcadius. 56 Whatever their faith, Ambrose had relations with powerful senators and no less influential barbarian chieftains, with emperors and usurpers, and so the fact that he had frequent contact with Arbogastes is no proof at all of the latter’s Christian beliefs. Nevertheless, Arbogastes was regarded by some as responsible for the suicide of the weak Valentinian II. By encouraging the ambitions of the usurper Flavius Eugenius against Theodosius, Arbogastes was the first of those German magistri militum, often called “emperor makers” (Kaisermacher), who dominated the last two centuries of the Roman Empire and helped bring about its end.57 After the death of Valentinian II and the suicide of Arbogastes at Frigidus, it would not have been expedient for Paulinus to mention that Ambrose had been his friend and had often dined with him, had it not been true. In fact, it was well known, and even Ambrose’s admirers mentioned Ambrose’s sociability in his episcopacy in inviting consuls and prefects to dine (qui eo tempore consules et praefectos subinde pascere ferebatur).58 Ambrose did not entertain only his colleagues in Italy and the more distant regions of the empire, such as Damasus of Rome or Basil of Caesarea.59 He welcomed many people who wished to meet him, including those from abroad. Though embellished by a taste for the exotic, Paulinus’ account gives an effective and reliable picture of the bishop and of the fame he had gained, not only in his city but also in distant lands. 55

Augustine, Contra litteras Petiliani 3.25.30, CSEL 52.185. PLRE II, s. v. Aelia Eudoxia 3, 410. 57 On the usurpations in late antiquity, see now Joachim Szidat, “Considerazioni sul passaggio di potere, le sue forme e le ricerche relative alle usurpazioni,” Occidente / Oriente. Rivista internazionale di studi tardoantichi 1 (2020): 65-71, and, in the same volume, Zecchini “Per una fenomenologia delle usurpazioni nella Tarda Antichità,” 107-16. 58 Sulpicius Severus, Dialogi 1.25.6, SC 510 (ed. J. Fontaine, 2006). On Sulpicius’s model of bishop, Lizzi Testa, “Martino vescovo santo,” 317-44.. 59 The biographer ignores Ambrose's relations with the Eastern churches and in particular with Basil of Caesarea, to whom he wrote a letter announcing his election and received an appreciative reply: Cesare Pasini, Le fonti greche su sant’Ambrogio, SAEMO 24 (Milan: Città Nuova Editrice 1990), 1:10 and 35-37. 56

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Ambrose and the Marcomanni Another example of how Paulinus emphasizes Ambrose’s fame is the mention of Fritigil, queen of the Marcomanni in the final passage I want to quote from the Vita Ambrosii. At the same time, Fritigil, a certain queen of the Marcomanni, when she heard of the fame of the man from the report of a certain Christian who had by chance come to her from the regions of Italy, believed in Christ, whose servant she recognized him to be, and sending gifts to the Church she asked through her envoys that she be informed by his own hand what she should believe. And to her he wrote a remarkable letter in the manner of a catechism, in which he urged her also to persuade her husband to keep peace with the Romans; when the woman received the letter, she persuaded her husband to entrust himself and his people to the Romans. When she came to Milan, she grieved very much because she did not find the holy bishop to whom she had hastened; for he had already departed from this life.60

In Ambrose’s letter to Fritigil, he exhorts her to accept Christianity as well as to keep peace with the Romans. Being both Romanus et christianus, he identified Christian faith with loyalty to Rome, so that peoples from beyond the borders were welcome only if they seemed willing to accept the empire and its laws. 61 We have seen that Ambrose never refused to have close diplomatic relations with the new barbarian generals such as Bauto and Arbogastes. They had typically been trained in Rome and they fought for the empire in the highest ranks of the army, and so it was of no consequence if they were still pagans as, for Ambrose, their choice of Roman civilization was a providential sign that conversion was certain and imminent. Besides, 60

Paulinus of Milan, VA 36.1-2. Ambrose's patriotism emerged in opposition to the barbarians who, like the Goths, refused to come to terms with Rome. If the bishop of Poetovio, Iulius Valens, of Arian faith, who dared to show himself to the Roman army with a necklace and bracelet in the manner of the Goths, had come to the Council of Aquileia, he would have been judged and condemned for having betrayed his country as well as being an Arian. It seemed to Ambrose legitimate to employ usury to economically destroy the barbarians and export wine to them, so that they might be overcome by drunkenness. He obviously considered “just” also the war to subjugate them. See Lellia Cracco Ruggini, “Ambrogio di fronte alla compagine sociale del suo tempo,” in “Ambrosius Episcopus:” Atti del Congresso Internazionale di Studi Ambrosiani (Milano, 2-7 dicembre 1974) (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 1976), 1:230-65, and Lellia Cracco Ruggini, “I barbari e l’impero prima e dopo il 410 (in tema di provvidenzialismo),” in Ambrogio e i barbari, ed. Isabella Gualandri and Raffaele Passarella, Studia Ambrosiana 5 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 2011), 21-48. 61

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the celebration of Augustus as an “emperor with Providence on his side,” so that the christiana tempora coincided with the start of the Roman Empire, was not an innovation by Orosius.62 His idea, rather, exemplified faith in the empire’s providential mission, which Eusebius may already have expressed when he created the myth of Augustus as the first unwitting Christian emperor.63 Bishop Ambrose acted in the certainty that Roman universality was an inescapable condition of Christian Catholicism, and for that reason his fame extended, as Paulinus wanted to show, across all the lands of the earth.64 The references in the Vita Ambrosii clearly show that those foreign peoples were willing to accept the empire and its Christian-Catholic faith. Ambrose’s catechetical letter to Fritigil has been lost, as had the letter he sent to the boy Pansophius, whom the bishop had resuscitated in Florence while Eugenius (still in Milan) sought to be acknowledged by Theodosius.65 Nor does any other ancient source mention the queen of the Marcomanni and her husband. 66 However, some details in contemporary narratives confirm that, around 390, this people, who had created much alarm in the region, could have been exhorted by the Bishop of Milan to maintain good relations with Rome, since the Marcomanni had been at peace for twenty years (between 375 and 395). They were a tribe of Germanic origin who were initially stationed between the Elbe and the Oder and who later emigrated to the land of the Boii (now Bohemia), where their king Maroboduus, who had grown up at the court of Augustus, had managed to create a vast confederation of Germanic tribes loyal to Rome.67 When the 62 Orosius, Historiarum Adversum Paganos 6.18.34, and 20.40-45: a source of oil gushed when the emperor Augustus entered Rome in 36 BC; 6.20.1-4: Augustus returned from the East on the day of the Epiphany. 63 Late authors, as Cedrenus, Malalas and Nicephorus Callistus, cite a lost text by Eusebius of Caesarea, according to which the same Pythia had revealed to Augustus, who went to Delphi to know the name of his successor, to have been deprived of his prophetic power since the birth of Christ. Upon returning to Rome, Augustus would have raised an altar at the Capitol to the firstborn god (Georgius Cedrenus, PG 121, coll. 355-58). 64 Ambrose, Expl. Ps. 45.21 “Sed tamen, quo plura obirent spatia terrarum, in exortu ecclesiae potestatem Romani imperii toto orbe diffudit et dissidentium mentes terrarumque divortia donata pace composuit. Didicerunt omnes homines sub uno terrarum imperio viventes unius dei omnipotentes imperium fideli eloquio confiteri.” 65 Paulinus of Milan, VA 28.1-3. 66 PLRE I, s. v. Fritigil, 374. 67 Velleius Paterculus (2.109) narrates the incredible rise of Maroboduus, despite the campaigns that Tiberius led against him. Tacitus, Annales (2.46), describes the clash

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balance of power changed both inside and outside the empire, during the period of Marcus Aurelius and his son Commodus, the Marcomanni had guided a powerful coalition against Rome, stoking the fires of a war that lasted nearly twenty years (from 162 to 180 in three phases); some of the significant campaigns in it are depicted on the column of Marcus Aurelius in Piazza Colonna in Rome.68 After the late second century, there was a fleeting appearance of the Marcomanni among the peoples that Diocletian and Galerius had succeeded in containing between 292 and 295.69 During the reign of Valentinian I, at the beginning of Ambrose’s episcopacy, the Marcomanni returned to the scene. Around 372/73 they joined the Quadi in sacking and pillage, burning domus and villae and attacking and devastating harvests throughout the middle and lower Danube to avenge the killing of Gabinius, King of the Quadi. Ammianus describes the mighty fortifications the prefect Probus had built to protect Sirmium, seat of the praetorian prefecture, and the vigorous action against them by the youthful dux Moesiae and future emperor, Theodosius, who succeeded in signing a lasting peace with both peoples.70 Since then a long period of alliance began, during which it was also possible to begin the work of Christianization, which Paulinus attributes to one zealous Christian, evidently a member of Ambrose’s Church. When Theodosius operated around Sirmium as dux Moesiae primae in ca. 373/74, Ambrose was still assessor at the court of Probus, before being elected consularis Aemiliae et Liguriae in 374. Becoming a bishop some months later, he will have valorized the links previously established with the leaders of the conquered Marcomanni and Quadi, to start the work of conversion of their people.

between Arminius, victorious at Teutoburgus (in 9 AD on Varus), and the king of the Marcomanni, who did not accept an alliance with him against Rome. Defeated by Arminius and expelled from the kingdom, Maroboduus was welcomed by Tiberius, who allowed him to live for twenty years in Ravenna with his court until 36/37 AD, when he died (Tacitus, Ann. 2.63). 68 Lellia Cracco Ruggini,“Roma e i Barbari in età tardoantica,” in Roma e i Barbari. La nascita di un nuovo mondo. Catalogo della Mostra (Venezia, Palazzo Grassi), ed. Jean-Jacques Aillagon (Milan: Skira, 2008), 207: 3000 Suevi Naristae were deported to Moesia in the second phase of the war against the confederation of the Germanic peoples led by the Marcomanni (172-175 AD). 69 ; Aurelius Victor, 39.43: “Et interea caesi Marcomanni Carporumque natio translata omnis in nostrum solum, cuius fere pars iam tum ab Aureliano erat.” A. Demandt, Die Spätantike. Römische Geschichte von Diocletian bis Justinian 284565n. Chr. (München: Verlag C. H. Beck, 2007), 51. 70 Ammianus Marcellinus, Res Gestae, 29.6.2-13.

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Fritigil’s journey to Milan immediately after the bishop’s death in 397 also corresponds to events in that period. We know that in 396 Stilicho joined battle against the Huns, who were crossing the lower Danube, and also against the Marcomanni, who were pouring across the central Danube, sacking Noricum and Pannonia. 71 Essentially, just as the first literary contact between Fritigil and Ambrose happened during the period of peace following Theodosius’ campaigns, so also the queen’s journey to Milan in late 397 may have been conceived as part of an agreement in which Stilicho allowed the defeated Huns and Marcomanni to settle in the territory they had devastated in Pannonia and Noricum.72 The evidence, then, implicitly confirms the extensive relations Ambrose was so good at creating beyond the empire’s borders, within those limits in which Christian and Roman universalism coincided.

The Making of a Christian Community Ambrose, first aristocratic bishop of the Latin West The extent of the fame Ambrose enjoyed as described by Paulinus reflected above all his personal experience. Born in Trier, brought up in Rome,73 he had come to Sirmium (near present-day Belgrade) as “court advocate” of Sextus Petronius Probus, then PPO per Illyricum Italiam et Africam, and an assessor in his council. Later Ambrose came to Milan as governor of a Roman province that extended from the region north of Florence to Lakes Maggiore and Como.74 In 374 he was acclaimed bishop in Milan, one of the four capitals of the late antique empire, dominating the religious life and the 71 The Marcomanni are mentioned by Jerome in the long list of people who for two decades devastated lands and cities between Constantinople and the Julian Alps: Jerome, Ep. 60.16.8 (ca. 396): “Viginti et eo amplius anni sunt, quod inter Constantinopolim et Alpes Iulias cotidie Romanus sanguis effunditur. Scythiam, Thraciam . . . Gothus, Sarmata, Quadus, Alanus, Huni, Vandali, Marcomanni vastant, trahunt, rapiunt.” Cf. Demandt, Die Spätantike, 124, 140. 72 There is no more mention of the Marcomanni from the second half of the fifth century. Reunited with many other peoples under the leadership of Attila from 440, they dispersed after his defeat and his death: Sidonius Apollinaris, Carmen 7.321; Paul the Deacon, 14.2. Cf. Demandt, Die Spätantike, 154. 73 Paulinus of Milan, VA 3-4. 74 Paulinus of Milan, VA 5.1: “Sed postquam edoctus liberalibus disciplinis ex urbe egressus est professusque in auditorio praefecturae praetorii, ita splendide causas perorabat ut eligeretur a viro illustri Probo, tunc praefecto praetorii, ad consilium tribuendum, post quod consularitatis suscepit insignia ut regeret Liguriam Aemiliamque provincias.”

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political scene for nearly a quarter of a century. 75 His election was an exceptional event, not so much because an imperial official had been chosen as prelate, but because a man from the senatorial aristocracy in Rome—not from the provincial élites, but from among the members of the Roman Senate—was given that role. Ambrose was the first aristocratic bishop in the history of the Church and the Empire76. Nevertheless, Ambrose was not a scion of the most ancient and traditional aristocracy. There is a longstanding tradition that he descended on his mother’s side from the gens Aurelia, the same as Avianius and Quintus Aurelius Symmachus, one of the richest and most powerful houses of late-ancient Rome. 77 Specifically, the family relation between the Symmachi and Ambrose has been conjectured on the basis of the expression Symmachus parens, which Ambrose used in the funeral oration for his brother Satyrus, recalling that senator’s affectionate insistence not to leave for Northern Italy, exposed as it was to the danger of a barbarian invasion.78 This family tie seemed to be confirmed by the phrase Saturus frater communis, which Quintus Aurelius Symmachus used in a letter to his brother Celsinus Titianus, because the term frater could be used for

75

Paulinus of Milan, VA 6. Peter Brown, Through the Eye of a Needle: Wealth, the Fall of Rome, and the Making of Christianity in the West, 350-550 AD (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2012), 122. 77 Jean-Remy Palanque, Saint Ambroise et l’empire romain. Contribution à l’histoire des rapports de l’Église et de l’État à la fin du quatrième siècle (Paris: E. de Boccard, 1933), 6-8, Paredi, S. Ambrogio, 3 and 411, and recently Timothy D. Barnes, “Augustine, Symmachus and Ambrose,” in Augustine: From Rhetor to Theologian, ed. Joanne McWilliam (Waterloo, Ont: Wilfried Laurier University Press, 1992), 7-13. Contra, Santo Mazzarino, Storia sociale del vescovo Ambrogio (Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider, 1989), 13 and 17, describes the relations between the Symmachi and Ambrose’s family as traditional links among different aristocratic families; Luigi F. Pizzolato, “L’enigma del padre di sant’Ambrogio.” Aevum 88, no. 1 (2014):157, urges not to overestimate Ambrose's connection with the gens Aurelia. 78 Ambrose, De excessu fratris sui Satyri 32, ed. O. Faller (CSEL 73). The identification of Symmachus parens with Avianius Symmachus or with his son Quintus Aurelius Symmachus depends on the uncertain chronology of the death of Satyrus, so that the expression may indicate the first, who died in 376 as consul designatus, or his son, depending on whether Satyrus is considered deceased in autumn 375, or between the end of 377 and the beginning of 378. One can find an accurate representation of different positions in Banterle, SAEMO 18, 10-11. 76

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Satyrus.79 Neither the term parens, nor that of frater, however, is conclusive proof that Ambrose was related to the Symmachi and the gens Aurelia. Two pages of concordances list Symmachus’ fratres, some of whom, as he admits, were completely unknown to him, although they received or benefited from affectionate letters of introduction.80 Ambrose’s father, whom the bishop never refers to in his writings, and whose name and position only Paulinus mentions almost a century after his death, was a praetorian prefect in Gaul when Ambrose was born.81 Even now his identity is pure hypothesis. In my view, he was not Marcellinus comes rei privatae of Constans in 348/50, as has recently been suggested.82 I find it more likely what Mazzarino suggested years ago, that he was the official called Uranius—the same name as that of Ambrose’s brother, Uranius Satyrus—who was the recipient in 339 of an edict ordering an extraordinary tax levy. Only Constantius II is mentioned in the inscriptio of that law, but the laws were issued by the whole imperial college, so that the names of all three emperors should be included.83 Constantine II’s name 79

Symmachus, Ep. 1.63, addressed to his brother Celsinus Titianus (written between 374 and 378): “Longum loquantur pro incognitis aut alienis verba facturi; mihi haec opera desinenda est, cum litteras nostras Saturus frater communis accipiat, quas non commendationi eius praestiti, sed nostro circa vos amore functus emisi. Vale.” See the comments on this passage by Michele R. Salzman and Michael Roberts, eds., The Letters of Symmachus: Book 1 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011), 131-32. 80 I agree with Neil McLynn, Ambrose of Milan. Church and Court in a Christian Capital, (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 263, that the letter cannot be evidence of a blood bond between Ambrose and the Aurelii Symmachi, as proposed by Barnes “Augustine, Symmachus and Ambrose,” 7-13. Giuseppe Zecchini, “Gli spazi geografici di Ambrogio,” in Ambrogio e la natura, ed. Raffaele Passarella, Studia Ambrosiana 9 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 2016), 35, simply cites the different positions without discussing them. 81 Paulinus of Milan, VA 3.1. 82 Pizzolato, “L’engima,” 149. 83 CTh 11.1.5: IDEM A. scil. IMP CONSTANTIUS A. sed rectius IMP CONSTANTIUS A. AD URANIUM: Omnes omnino ad oblationem pecuniarum oportet urgueri. Lege enim nostra signatum est nec esse extraordinaria nec vocari, quae specialiter a provincialibus devotissimis conferenda sunt. DAT. III NON. FEB. CONSTANTIO A. II ET CONSTANTE CONSS. [THE SAME AUGUSTUS (scl. CONSTANTIUS AUGUSTUS), but better EMPEROR CONSTANTIUS TO URANIUS: Absolutely everyone must be compelled to make the tax payments in money. For it is indicated by Our law that the taxes which must be

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was deleted when all his measures were abolished and his name erased from the inscriptions on being declared publicus inimicus / hostis publicus (public enemy) for trying to invade Italy and taking possession of the territory of his brother Constans, for which he was killed in April 340. 84 With this revision of the law’s inscriptio, then, there is nothing to prevent us from thinking that this law was sent by Constantine II to his prefect in Gaul in 339 AD, to order additional taxation before his expedition against the Sarmatians, who were once again carrying out raids on the border of the Danube.85 The coincidence with Ambrose’s possible date of birth in Trier in 338/39 AD supports the identification of this Uranius with the father of the future bishop. His name, using Paulinus’ information, was therefore Uranius Ambrosius. Important prosopographical studies on Constantine’s prefects and their sons show that those we know of were all of noble birth, reaching the rank of senator with the title of clarissimi as a result of having been praetorian prefects.86 We also now know that Constantine reformed the office in favor of men who were well educated, expert in the law, and above all possessed of the administrative abilities that a long bureaucratic career in offices in different parts of the empire would require. The education, training, and specifically paid by Our most devoted provincials are not extraordinary and they must not be so called. GIVEN ON THE THIRD DAY BEFORE THE NONES OF FEBRUARY IN THE YEAR OF THE SECOND CONSULSHIP OF CONSTANTIUS AUGUSTUS AND THE CONSULSHIP OF CONSTANS (February 3, 339)] (trans. Pharr, 291). 84 CTh 11.12.1 (29 April 340) is evidence for the rescissio actorum (abolition of his measures) appearing after Constantine II was declared a public enemy: Bruno Bleckmann, “Der Bürgerkrieg zwischen Constantin II. und Constans (340 n. Chr.).” Historia 52, 2 (2003): 239. The deletion of his name was made throughout the Empire, as evidenced by some inscriptions in Asia (CIL 3.474; 477; 7198), in Africa (CIL 8.12272), in Noricum (CIL 3.5207), and in Italia (CIL 5.8030). In modern editions of the Theodosian Code, the inscriptio of the constitutions issued during Constantine II’s life almost never bear his name, but in some of the manuscripts it does appear, as Mommsen's critical apparatus shows: Paola O. Cuneo, La legislazione di Costantino II, Costanzo II e Costante (337-361): Materiali per una palingenesi delle costituzioni tardo-imperiali, s. II, 2 (Milan: A Giuffrè, 1997), XLIII and LXXII; Paola O. Cuneo, Anonymi Graeci oratio funebris in Constantinum II (Milan: LED Edizioni Universitarie, 2012), 75, n. 263. 85 Mazzarino, Storia sociale, 11; 75; cf. Lizzi Testa, “Praesul et possessor,” 34-42. 86 Pierfrancesco Porena, Le origini della prefettura del pretorio tardoantica (Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider, 2003), 398-496; Pierfrancesco Porena, “Trasformazioni istituzionali e assetti sociali: i prefetti del pretorio tra III e IV secolo,” in Le trasformazioni delle élites in età tardoantica, ed. Rita Lizzi Testa (Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider, 2006), 325-56.

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careers of Ambrose and his brother Satyrus confirm the fact that their father wanted his sons to have that kind of upbringing to guarantee their upward social mobility.87 Indeed, in the space of a few decades, because of the high political and administrative responsibilities involved, the office of praetorian prefect was the summit of a senatorial career and those who held the position and particularly their immediate descendants were treated with the respect previously reserved for the old nobility, with whom they were quickly assimilated. The new Constantinian nobility—of which Ambrose’s father must be regarded as a member—was economically and socially akin in its behavior to the traditional aristocrats. This was particularly so if the latter were already Christian, though there were no special religious restrictions. The younger members of the new nobility very quickly adopted the culture, ideals, and values of the traditional aristocracy. It is therefore certain that Ambrose was the first aristocratic bishop of the Latin West.

Clergy, bishops, and believers Palladius, Bishop of Ratiaria, whom Ambrose had had removed from his office at the Council of Aquileia in 381 for his “Arianism,” accused him in fiercely polemical terms “of instructing lectors and ministers of the church after his own fashion.” 88 This was indeed the most significant result of Ambrose’s activities as a bishop from the start. Ambrose’s sermons and his particular style of life presented the manners, behavior, and language of the Roman aristocracy both to priests and bishops in Northern Italian dioceses, many of which he had himself created in those years, and to the prelates he had established in border areas that did not fall under his metropolitan jurisdiction. In fact, some of these seats, such as Sirmium, where he had been advocatus, or Thessalonica, which had been the seat of the Nicene Acolius, risked remaining in or falling into the hands of Arian bishops. Traveling frequently and industriously writing letters and publishing sermons and treatises, Ambrose was able to bring together in the Nicene faith an ecclesiastical group of very varied social origin, who in the course of twenty years acquired a marked unity of purpose. This is clear from written works of the time by Zeno of Verona, Chromatius of Aquileia, Vigilius of Trent, Gaudentius of Brescia and Maximus of Turin, who 87 Ambrose, De excessu fratris Satyri 49: “nam quid spectatam in stipendiis forensibus eius facundiam loquar? Quam incredibili admiratione in auditorio praefecturae sublimis emicuit?”; 58: “qualis fuerit in universos provincialium, quibus praefuit, studia docent.” Cf. PLRE I, s. v. Ambrosius 3, 52, and s. v. Uranius Satyrus, 809. 88 Scholies Ariennes, SC 267, ed. Gryson, 1980, 300.

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disseminated the ideas, behavior and values endorsed by Ambrose in their communities.89 The bishop’s main instructions, which are scattered throughout some letters to his colleagues, are also clearly expressed in the three books De officiis (On Duties), in which he reworked the sermons he had given in his first fifteen years as a bishop. 90 Through extensive quotations from Scripture, the rules of the De officiis translated the culture and ideals of the late-antique aristocracy into Christian terms, following the structure and schema of thought in Cicero’s work of the same name. Ambrose, in fact, also shared the taste for the classical of the late-fourth-century cultivated Roman circles, which led to a revaluation and imitation of the genres and styles of late-republican literary-artistic culture. 91 The Roman orator of ancient times was also a model for the learned men depicted by Macrobius in his Saturnalia, and the priest was to have their same external manners— from how he held his head to his gait, from containing one’s anger to remaining silent, or speaking at the proper time, without raising one’s voice. He should attach great importance to the art of speech in his sermons, which should be both nourishing as milk and healing as balm, being designed to persuade God’s people and overcome adversaries of the faith by vigor of intellect. Ambrose’s priest would also share the ancient sage’s modesty and

89

Rita Lizzi Testa, “Ambrose's Contemporaries and the Christianization of Northern Italy,” JRS 80 (1990): 156-73. 90 Many traces of orality let us to think that treatises as the De officiis (Davidson 2001), or those on consecrated virginity (McLynn 1994, 60-68), were not born as works written at a desk, a sort of rhetorical exercise that mixed parenesis and diatribe, but constitute the written reworking of homilies pronounced before the faithful. Similar compositional processes would seem to be attributable to most of the works in which Ambrose commented on Old Testament passages: Basil Studer, “L’esegesi patristica, un incontro con Cristo. Osservazioni sull’esegesi dei Padri latini,” Augustinianum 30 (2000): 329. 91 Lellia Cracco Ruggini, “Arcaismo e conservatorismo, innovazione e rinnovamento (IV-V secolo),” in Le trasformazioni della cultura nella tarda antichità. Atti del Convegno tenuto a Catania (27 settembre-2 ottobre 1982), ed. Mario Mazza e Claudia Giuffrida (Rome: Jouvence, 1985), 1:133-56; Rita Lizzi Testa, “Policromia di cultura e raffinatezza editoriale. Gli esperimenti letterari dell’aristocrazia romana nel tardo Impero,” in Humana Sapit. Études d’antiquité tardive offertes à Lellia Cracco Ruggini, ed. Jean-Michel Carrié and Rita Lizzi Testa (Turnhout: Brepols, 2002), 187-99.

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sobriety, since patience was an effective missionary weapon in a world still steeped in paganism.92 He should also be generous to the poor and outcast, to the point of extreme acts of charity, so that the people would love him as their untiring defender. Nor did Ambrose wholly abandon the ancient ideas in describing the contexts and the meaning of Christian charity (misericordia), which was primarily generosity to one’s fellow-citizens. However, he made the act of giving something different from the liberalitas of the rich Roman, whose energetic activity ensured his political advancement and helped reduce social imbalances and rioting in the cities. In a chapter of the De officiis designed to show the degrees of duties, misericordia is analyzed as part of beneficentia for its great impact in the acquisition of the dilectio multitudinis. 93 In the section of the De officiis on the effectiveness of misericordia,94 however, when he exhorts the reader to help others even beyond one’s means, braving the slander of the “hard-hearted,” the bishop recalls distributing gold to the poor after selling the sacred plate of the church in Milan to free the prisoners held by the barbarians.95 For Ambrose, then, misericordia was not just a synonym of human justice, as it was for Cicero, because Christian charity was intended to reach a higher justice.96 He uses the same audacity with which he speaks of misericordia in the De officiis in describing Nature as a common mother in the De Nabuthae historia. This latter, like the De officiis, was also revised, incorporating over fifteen years of sermons, around 388/89—significantly at the time when Theodosius was in the West.97 In that work too, interpreting theologically 92 Ambrose, Off. 1.4 and 210; Ep. Extra coll. 14, CSEL 82.3:266-67; Lizzi Testa, Vescovi, 42-43; Lellia Cracco Ruggini, “Nascita e morte di una capitale,” Quaderni Catanesi di Studi Classici e Medievali 2 (1990): 30, n. 39 and 40. 93 Ambrose, Off. 1.11.38; 2.15.68. 94 Ambrose, Off. 2.28.136-140. 95 Ambrose, Off. 2.28.141: “Numquid dictum est sancto Laurentio: non debuisti erogare thesauros Ecclesiae, vasa sacramentorum vendere?” On Ambrose’s original attitude, see Rita Lizzi Testa, “La certatio fra Ambrogio e Mercurino Aussenzio, ovvero a proposito di una deposizione mancata,” in Ambrogio e la sua basilica, Studia Ambrosiana 3 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 2009), 50-55; Giuseppe Visonà, “Ambrogio e il martire Lorenzo,” in Il culto di san Lorenzo tra Roma e Milano. Dalle origini al Medioevo, ed. Raffaele Passarella, Studia Ambrosiana 8 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 2015), 22. 96 Ambrose, Ob.Theod. 26, ed. O Faller (CSEL 73); Ambrose Off. 2.15.70;71; 73. 97 Although the dating of De Nabuthae historia is controversial, the prevailing view is now to assign the work to the years 386-389: Stefania Palumbo, Ambrogio di Milano. De Nabuthae historia (Bari: Cacucci, 2012), 23-24. Ivor J. Davidson,

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the relation between the natural community of goods and private property, he showed how one might achieve greater justice through charity. Ambrose did not condemn wealth. It might constitute a serious obstacle for the mali divites98 and, when used wickedly, he saw it as the real cause of those natural upheavals and famines that the urban prefect Quintus Aurelius Symmachus saw as due to the abandonment of the ancient gods.99 However, wealth was an instrument of virtue (adiumenta virtutis) for good people,100 as one could then carry out one’s Christian duties and, through charity, solve that crisis of social relations that the abuses of the powerful, namely the expropriations and the exploitation of the wretched farm laborers had caused. Some priests in Northern Italy felt strongly the effects of Ambrose’s views and responded to the concern of those who feared they would suffer the punishment God reserved for the rich, reassuring them as Gaudentius of Brescia reassured Benevolus, a former imperial official and leader of the honorati citizens, and one of the richest men in the city: “God made you rich not out of malice but providence, so that you might find medicine for the wounds of your sins in works of mercy.”101 Assiduous in prayer, vigils and abstinence, Ambrose was also severe in his chastity, recommending it to his priests too.102 Previously regarded as an elite prerogative of late-pagan aristocratic circles, asceticism—experienced not as an eremite but as a pastor of souls—elevated the spirit in prayer and meditation, assimilating the bishop to extraordinary figures of classical antiquity and Holy Scripture. Such figures included Scipio Africanus, cited Ambrose: De officiis, 2 vols. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001) presents good arguments to also place the De officiis around 388. It is my impression that Ambrose published both treatises to dedicate them to Theodosius after Maximus's defeat. 98 Ambrose, De Spiritu Sancto 3.17.118 (CSEL 79); cf. Roberta Ricci, “In summis divitiis inops,” Ambrogio e il ricco infelice (Bologna: Pàtron, 2013), 13-29. 99 Symmachus, Rel.3.3; 15; 17; Ambrose, Ep.73.18: “Non est igitur idonea quae aegritudinem mundi fallentis causa constrinxerit, ut virentibus segetibus subito spes anni adulta moreretur.” 100 Ambrose, Expl. Ps. 36.28 (CSEL 64): “Non ergo divitiae accusantur sed divitiae peccatorum”; Expositio evangelii secundum Lucam, 5.69: “Discant non in facultatibus crimen haerere, sed in his qui uti nesciant facultatibus; nam divitiae ut impedimenta in inprobis ita in bonis sunt adiumenta virtutus. . . . Non census igitur, sed affectus in crimine est;” Expos. Luc. 8.84: “Cum divitibus quoque in gratiam revertamur; nolumus enim offendere divites. Qui volumus, si fieri potest, sanare omnes”. 101 Gaudentius, Tractatus Praef. 22, ed. A. Glueck (CSEL 68): “non malitiose, sed providenter te fecit Deus divitem, ut per operam misericordiae invenires peccatorum tuorum vulneribus medicinam.” 102 Paulinus of Milan, VA 38.1-3.

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by Cicero as one who had drawn immediately effective practical energy from the vigor of mind achieved in otium for contact with the divinity; as well as the biblical Elisha, a thaumaturgic prophet, miracle-worker, and counselor of kings, to whom Elijah had made the symbolic gift of his sheepskin cloak.103 In some particularly significant letters—such as that to Anisius of Thessalonica on the death of Acolius, who was celebrated as the real author of the victory over the Goths after Adrianopolis by virtue of his sanctity—and, above all, in constructing his own public image, Ambrose managed to form a new type of priest, one possessing extraordinary virtues—which Paulinus translated into a long series of miraculous events—because enjoying divine favor in public manifestations of his authority.

The bishop and the emperor, “believer among believers” Though Ambrose addressed emperors in tones that seemed to revive the centuries-long debate between the imperial regime and the senate, the priest’s authority did not come just from his ability to transpose the power of the great Roman senators into pastoral activity, devotional life, and ecclesiastical policy. Rather, Ambrose’s priest was equipped with a divine mission in defense of his church. And, by virtue of that mission, he also had the task of confining imperial behavior that seemed unfavorable to Christians to the principle that he had been the first to formulate: “the emperor is in the Church, not above the Church.” 104 The facts are well known and I shall only review them quickly to show how strongly the bishop was tied to his community. At the end of the summer of 384, between the wheat and the grape harvest, the senate was trying to have the altar of Victory relocated in the curia of the Senate and was asking to have the anti-pagan measures taken by Gratian in 382 abrogated. Knowing this, Ambrose declared that if the emperor were to assent to this, it would seem a sacrilege “to the bishops,” on a level with the persecution of a pagan tyrant, and would merit

103

Lizzi Testa, “Tra i classici e la Bibbia,” 43-64. Ambrose, Ep. 75a.36: “Quod cum honorificentia imperatoris dictum nemo potest negare. Quo denim honorificientius quam ut imperator ecclesiae filius esse dicatur? Quod cum dicitur sine peccato dicitur, cum gratia dicitur: Imperator enim intra ecclesiam non supra ecclesiam est; bonus enim imperator quaerit auxilium ecclesiae, non refutat.”

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excommunication. 105 It was the episcopal community of the whole peninsula that was evoked, since Ambrose did not act only for himself and for the prelates of Northern Italy, but also for Damasus in Rome, thanks to whom he had been able to prevent the first senatorial legation from being received at court and heard by the emperor in 382. 106 Faced with the possibility that the bishop’s reaction would isolate Valentinian II and further strain his government’s already weak position, even those members of the consistory who had at first seemed in favor of rescinding Gratian’s measures, had been forced to refuse the Roman Senate’s requests.107 The Milanese Christian community took a leading role during the serious crisis for the basilicas. When Ambrose was summoned to the court in 385, realizing from the letter of convocation what the prince had decided for the Basilica Portiana (San Vittore al Corpo, or Sant’Eustorgio, or better San Lorenzo Maggiore), he did not go to the palace alone: “As soon as the people knew I was going to the Palace, they burst in with such force that it was difficult to resist them . . . .”108 The faithful even resisted the charge of the light armed troops of the comes militaris, and only the bishop managed to keep them from open sedition, being assured by the emperor that “no one would invade the basilica, which belonged to the Church.” 109 Then, the 105 Ambrose, Ep. 72.9, 12, 13: “Si hodie gentilis aliquis, imperator, quod absit, aram statueret simulacris et eo convenere cogeret Christianos, ut sacrificantibus interessent . . . persecutionem esse crederet Christianus. . . . Te ergo imperatore Christiani in aram iurare cogentur? . . . Sed hoc non potest sine sacrilegio decerni . . . . Certe si aliud statuitur, episcopi hoc aequo animo pati et dissimulare non possumus; licebit tibi ad ecclesiam convenire, sed illic non invenies sacerdotem aut invenies resistentem.” 106 Ambrose, Ep. 72.10: “Nam et ante biennium ferme cum hoc petere temptarent, misit ad me sanctus Damasus, Romanae ecclesiae sacerdos iudicio dei electus, libellum . . . .”; Symm., Rel. 3.1: “(Senatus amplissimus scl.) iterum me querellarum suarum iussit esse legatum . . . . Cui ideo divi principis denegata est ab improbis audientia quia non erat iustitia defutura.” Cf. Rita Lizzi Testa, “The Famous ‘Altar of Victory Controversy’ in Rome: The Impact of Christianity at the End of the Fourth Century,” in Contested Monarchy. Integrating the Roman Empire in the Fourth Century AD., ed. Johannes Wienan (Oxford: Oxford University Press 2015), 405-19. 107 Ambrose, De obitu Valentiniani 19; Ep. extra coll. 10.3, where the comites Bauto and Rumoridus are mentioned among those reluctant members. 108 Ambrose, Ep. 75a.29: “Nonne meminerunt quod ubi me cognovit populus palatium petisse, ita irruit ut vim eius ferre non possent, quando se comiti militari cum expeditis ad fugandam multitudinem egresso obtulerunt omnes se neci pro fide Christi? . . . .” 109 Ambrose, Ep. 75a.29: “Non tunc rogatus sum, ut populum multo sermone mulcerem, sponderem fidem quod basilicam ecclesiae nullus invaderet?”

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following year, the whole populace—even its most active social members who belonged to the trade guilds, upon which the emperor had inflicted heavy fines to dissuade them from rioting—rallied in defense of the city’s churches.110 Besieged there with their bishop, they drew strength from the hymns that Ambrose had written for them. 111 Ambrose’s adversaries criticized him for the revolutionary tendencies of his popular poetry. 112 What was actually revolutionary in his hymns was that they “turned those who could hardly be called disciples into masters” (facti sunt igitur omnes magistri, qui vix poterant esse discipuli). 113 The spectacular inventio martyrum, which a timely divine inspiration suggested to the bishop, even convinced the homoian court that the Church was the daughter of a Christ who was God, able to work unexpected miracles through the action of his humble bishops.114 The community of believers meeting for mass was again the active subject of the confrontation between Ambrose and Theodosius on the events of Callinicum. Presenting himself as the prophet Nathan—who spoke to David, guilty of adultery with Bathsheba and the murder of her husband Uriah the Hittite—Ambrose had already written to Theodosius from Aquileia when he had heard that the emperor had ordered the bishop of Callinicum to rebuild the synagogue that had been burnt down by the Christians.115 Reminding Theodosius that all his successes—his ascent to 110 Ambrose Ep. 76.6: “Condemnationes ilico gravissimae decernuntur; primo in corpus omne mercatorum . . . erant pleni carceres negotiatores; 26: Nec mora, nuntiatur imperatorem iussisse, ut recederent milites de basilica, negotiatoribus quoque quod exacti de condemnatione fuerant redderetur.” 111 Paulinus of Milan, VA 13, 3; Augustine, Confessiones 9.7.15. On these liturgical innovations, see Navoni, Paolino de Milano, 95-96, n. 48; for the literary context, Franca Ela Consolino, “I versi di Ambrogio e la poesia latina tra la fine del IV e gli inizi del V secolo,” in Contributi di ricerca sulla poesia in Ambrogio, Studia Ambrosiana 2 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 2008), 29-50. 112 Ambrose, Ep. 75.19: “Semper ergo Christi laudes verbera perfidorum sunt. Et nunc cum laudatur Christus, dicunt haeretici quia seditio commovetur, dicunt haretici quia mors parabatur; et vere mortem habent in laudibus Christi. Quomodo enim laudes eius ferre possunt, cuius infirmitatem praedicant? Itaque et hodie cum laudatur Christus, Arrianorum amentia verberatur.” 113 Andrea Giardina, “Santo Mazzarino, la società del quarto secolo e l’età di Ambrogio,” in Ambrogio e la questione sociale, ed. Raffaele Passarella, Studia Ambrosiana 10 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 2017), 16. 114 Ambrose, Ep. 77 to his sister in June 386; Paulinus of Milan, VA 14.1. 115 Ambrose’s letter to Theodosius from Aquileia on Callinicum (Ep. 74) has to be read with that to Marcellina (Ep. extra coll 1), which preserves both the speech that

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the throne, the provisioning of his armies, his military victories, and his dynastic stability—came from God, he had entreated him to avoid apostasy by forcing a bishop to rebuild a place “where Christ was denied.”116 It was during Sunday service, however, that the bishop, like the prophet Aaron whose walnut rod blossomed, according to the verse in Jeremiah, and “who counsels what is useful to the salvation of the sovereign,” ordered the emperor to revoke his measures, so that he could bring the ceremony to an end with the offering of the sacrifice, mentioning the emperor among the offerers.117 Ambrose dealt in the same way with the serious episode of the “massacre of Thessalonica,” to whose populace he was tied by friendship with the deceased Acolius and the new prelate Anisius, whom Ambrose had wanted to succeed Acolius.118 The crowd, enraged by the arrest of a well known charioteer, had stoned to death general Butericus, which led to the slaughter of many civilians in reprisal. The emperor’s counter-order, which Ambrose had requested in a letter, had arrived too late to avoid the massacre.119 At this point, Ambrose recalled in his funeral speech for Theodosius, the emperor “laid down all royal insignia . . . wept publicly in church for his sin . . . with tears and groans begged pardon.” 120 The traditional story that Theodosius was repulsed at the doors of the church was a dramatized transposition of the dream Ambrose told the emperor he had had during the night.121 Nonetheless the church and its members remained the fulcrum of the episode. Outside his palace, a believer among believers, the baptized emperor was made aware of how vulnerable he was, particularly if faced by a bishop like Ambrose, with the whole community united in their devotions.

Ambrose pronounced in church in front of the emperor and a copy of the letter previously addressed to him: cf. Paulinus of Milan, VA 22-23. 116 Ambrose, Ep. 74.22-23. 117 Ambrose, Ep. extra coll. 1.2-3; 27-28. 118 Ambrose, Ep. 52. 119 Ambrose, Ep. extra coll. 11.6: Theodosius issued a counter-order; for Paulinus of Milan (VA 24) the emperor promised forgiveness. It is debated whether Paulinus of Milan knew this letter to Theodosius: cf. McLynn, Ambrose of Milan, 320-21, and Navoni, Paolino di Milano, 117-18, n. 92. 120 Ambrose, Ob. Theod. 33. 121 Ambrose, Ep. extra coll. 11.6;13-14: cf. Paredi, S. Ambrogio, 299-300, and McLynn, Ambrose of Milan, 326.

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Conclusion To create a unified Christian community in a city such as Milan had become in the last twenty years of the fourth century was a great challenge. The place, once a sleepy provincial town, due to the constant presence of the emperor and his court became a swarming place, where economic affairs, social challenges, cultural attractions, and religious alternatives fermented. Its Christian groups had been led for almost twenty years by a bishop imposed by Emperor Constantius II and of semi-Arian faith. Teaching the Nicene creed as well as arousing respect and enthusiasm for virginity and consecrated widowhood in such a heterogeneous environment were Bishop Ambrose’s main motivations. The strength of his example and teaching was already evident after a decade. The faithful did not abandon their bishop, who dared to oppose the court of Justina and Emperor Valentinian II, nor were they frightened by the heavy fines which the emperor had inflicted on the trade guilds to dissuade them from rioting. They barricaded themselves with the bishop in the churches surrounded by soldiers, singing their faith. The sacred hymns, which Ambrose had written for them, had turned those who could hardly be called disciples into teachers. Ambrose’s Christian community, however, transcended the boundaries of a city. Once governor of the province of Aemilia et Liguria, the new bishop knew the enormous Christian potential of the entire region (Italia Annonaria). In order for Christianity—still undermined by traditional cults and various heresies—to expand in the area, he multiplied the bishoprics. And he sent carefully chosen bishops there, who were inspired by the model of priest that he recommended in his sermons and writings: a priest who was fervent in prayer and divine contemplation but also active in his daily commitment. Like him, every new bishop he elected in northern Italy was ready to fight against corrupt officials or great landowners who cared little for their peasants' lives. He even was prepared to challenge emperors who did not respect the sacred law. All the bishops of northern Italy gathered around Ambrose when he asked Theodosius to revoke his measures (against the bishops of curial origin and for the reconstruction of a synagogue), before attending the solemn sacrifice of the Mass. A few years later, after the massacre of citizens in Thessalonica, Ambrose was able to transform the humiliation of the baptized emperor into the royal virtue of humility: ordinary people and priests learned from his example, and the episode was cited as a model of episcopal behavior in later centuries. But, well beyond Milan and the whole of northern Italy, Ambrose intervened wherever there was a need to create or consolidate Christian

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communities in the Nicene faith, as the episodes of Sirmium, Callinicum, and Thessalonica demonstrate. Born in Roman Trier into a senatorial family and raised in the city of Rome, like every great aristocrat who travelled through the empire, he maintained many relationships with army generals, court bureaucrats, hegemonic classes in the provinces, and simple people of foreign churches. Ambrose had the empire as his homeland. He believed that Roman universality was an inescapable condition of Christian Catholicism. Being both Romanus et christianus, he identified Christian faith with loyalty to Rome, so that peoples from beyond the borders were welcome if they seemed willing to accept the empire and its laws. For this reason, his fame extended, as Paulinus wanted to show, across all the lands of the earth.

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Fig. 1-1. Callinicum. Map courtesy of Angelo Di Berardino, ed., Atlas of Ancient Christianity (Philadelphia: ICC Press, 2014), 19, map 11.

CHAPTER TWO AMBROSE OF MILAN: CONSTRUCTING ROMAN CHRISTIAN PATRONAGE ROBERT GRANT

Set high above the Pusterla di Sant’Ambrogio in Milan is an image of St. Ambrose flanked by two male figures, appearing as warriors with swords. These, of course, are Gervasius and Protasius, the martyrs whose bodies Ambrose uncovered in a cemetery near the Ambrosiana basilica. In his account of this event, Ambrose referred to these as his “champions,” “defenders,” “attendants,” “shields,” and, significantly, as relied upon for tuteoria patrocinia: “more powerful patronage.”1 Patrocinium was already in Ambrose’s time a traditional bond between powerful patrons and dependent clients. The linking of this venerable conceptual relationship to the physical remains of long-dead (and generally anonymous) victims of state-sanctioned violence is emblematic of Ambrose’s Christian reconstruction of Roman traditions. The purpose of this essay is to demonstrate how Ambrose of Milan both participated in and reframed the Roman system of patron/client relationships. As a Roman elite, he inherited this ancient social construct. As a consularis and later as a bishop he exercised the expected role of patron to individuals and whole communities, some of them quite distant from Milan. Yet, consistent with his distinct theological methodology, he reinterpreted this social, political, and economic relationship. From his new perspective, patrons are not identified with traditional elites, reinforcing their social superiority over dependent citizen clients. Rather, these same elites are now clients who rely on the beneficence of their poor patrons and the intercession of the martyrs in order to be admitted into paradise. 1

Ambrose, Epistula 77.10-11 to Marcellina, SAEMO 21 (ed. and trans. Gabriele Banterle, 1989). “propugnatores,” “defensores,” “stipatores,” “armi.”

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Patrocinium (often synonymous with amicitia or fides) is an ethos of reciprocity, consisting of a voluntary and continuous relationship of exchange between those of unequal power or status with cultural, economic, political, and social dimensions. Significantly, patrocinium reinforced that inequality. The gods were prevailed upon to monitor the fidelity of both parties.2 Emperors came to see themselves as the greatest, if not the singular, patrons of the empire. 3 Cyprian of Carthage offers an early example of episcopal patronage, though he did not explicitly couch his practices in the framework of traditional patronage. Having access to wealth, he supported martyrs, the poor, his deacons, and even other bishops, asserting that such patronage will be rewarded by God. 4 He “laid the theological and ecclesiastical foundations of Christianized patronage that would last for ages to come” by supplying a novel eschatological motivation: patronage of the poor would be rewarded by salvation.5 In any case, by the late Empire and in no small part due to Ambrose, the Roman patronage system had been thoroughly re-shaped, integrated into the Church, and would persist well into the sixth century.6 Patrocinium was of a somewhat “elusive character,” more of a set of social norms than civic laws.7 It conferred on a person of rank and power a formal relationship sometimes described as that of adoptive pater (father) and conferring binding fides (loyalty) through multiple generations upon one’s freedmen and slaves, whole tribes, rural or urban neighborhoods, and entire cities. The patronus (or sometimes prostates) was a benefactor— providing buildings, infrastructure, entertainment, and festivals. 8 They distributed sportulae of alms and jobs and retirement bonuses, even citizenship. 9 Patrons intervened for and between clients as defender, 2

J. H. W. G. Liebescheutz, Continuity and Change in Roman Religion (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1979), 42. 3 Katie Cooper and Julia Hillner, “Introduction,” in Religion, Dynasty, and Patronage in Early Christian Rome 300-900, ed. Katie Cooper, and Julia Hillner (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017), 4. 4 Cyprian of Carthage, Epistle 59.3, trans. Robert E. Wallis, rev. ed. Kevin Knight, http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/0506.htm. 5 Helen Rhee, Loving the Poor, Saving the Rich (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2012), 144, 142. 6 See Neil Christie, From Constantine to Charlemagne: An Archaeology of Italy AD 300-800, (London, New York, Routledge, 2006), 74, 80. 7 John Nicols, Civic Patronage in the Roman Empire (Leiden, Boston: Brill, 2014), xvii. 8 Nicols, Civic Patronage, 9. For patronus, see Cicero (De officiis 1.35); for prostates, Appian (B.Civ. 2.4); and for patrocinium, Sallust (Cat. 41). 9 Rhee, Loving the Poor, 16.

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mediator or reconciler.10 Other common benefices were amelioration of tax obligations, legal advocacy against charges and accusations, and even physical protection. Most important, however, were the patron’s openended and vague promises to act in the future interest of the client. Indeed, it is this commitment to future benefactions, more than some sense of obligation for those already given, that sealed the bonds between patron and client.11 To confer legal patrocinium was the exclusive right of cities and was administered by municipal charters. 12 They seem to have picked their patrons, honored them with public approbation, and vowed themselves to gratitude. It was illegal to poach other’s patrons; it was utterly bad form for a patron to abandon his clients for others. The commensurate obligations of the client (whether an individual or an entire deme included loyalty, votes, services, regular visits to the patron’s home (called salutationes), and public displays of support13 There is no reason to doubt the sincerity of the patron or the client in what was a mutually beneficial relationship and which is, indeed, the most obvious (if somewhat utilitarian) meaning of the Latin amicitia. And yet, the patron/client relation served to cement into place a very unequal social structure, effectively serving to economically emasculate the clients. 14 Poverty relief was not the function of the patron/client construct: rather, it served as a social glue that fixed—and held—everyone involved in their place on the social hierarchy. This was the concept that the aristocratic Ambrose inherited from his Roman tradition. Ambrose the bishop accommodated patrocinium to his Christian ethos, changing it in both subtle and dramatic ways even while practicing it in a recognizably orthodox manner. At some unknown time, most plausibly some few years after his anointing as bishop, Ambrose and perhaps Satyrus, if he was still alive at the time, determined to surrender their wealth to the Church. Notably, they did reserve an endowment for the maintenance of their sister Marcellina and an unnamed companion. These two vowed virgins resided in the family home in Rome. This donation of wealth to the church did not mean that

10

Nicols, Civic Patronage, 237. See Ronald Syme and Peter Brunt in Nicols, Civic Patronage, xvii. 12 Nicols, Civic Patronage, xv. 13 Rhee, Loving the Poor, 15. 14 Rhee, Loving the Poor, 148. 11

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Ambrose stripped himself of the financial means of acting as patron, he being the executor of the Church’s benefices.15 We know that Ambrose engaged in extensive philanthropic activities including the alleviation of poverty, rescuing the enslaved, and building churches and a new baptistery in Milan. He alludes to enlarging cemeteries16 and it is likely, though archaeologically unverified, that he followed the example of Basil of Caesarea and other bishops by providing hospices, hospitals, food distribution centers (diaconae), and the like. 17 Such patronage led to what Peter Brown calls the “fateful conquest of the bazaar" that left bishops “throughout the empire” with a “virtual urban militia” of persons involved with the bishops’ care for the poor. 18 As patron, Bishop Ambrose was an advocate, responding to requests for help, securing positions of favor, and intervening in disputes.19 There are several traditional means at his disposal for accomplishing this. Among these were his gestae concerning the councils of Aquileia, Rome, and Capua, which explicitly asked emperors to act on behalf of the Church. Similarly, his relationes to individual emperors (Theodosius, Valentinian II, Gratian and Eugenius) urged certain actions for his community. His letters, petitioning support for one or another group or individual, are particularly helpful in revealing Ambrose as a consummate patron. All told, there remain ninety-four known letters,20 many others having been lost to history. 21 Ambrose addressed eleven letters to emperors, twenty-six to bishops, fourteen to priests, twenty-eight to laymen, three to his sister, and one to the ‘church of Vercelli.’ In total, we have record that 15

Given that, in his funeral oration for his brother, Ambrose explicitly comments on the wealth Satyrus left behind, it may well be that any official transfer of the family’s fortune happened after that event in 378. “Et certe erat non pauper opibus.” Ambrose, De excessu fratris 1.55-6, SAEMO 18 (ed. and trans. F. Gori, 1985). The transfer may have been completed by 386 when, in his letter to Marcellina about the Portiana controversy, he relates a comment he made to court officials. If interpreted literally, all of his property now belonged to the poor: “omnia quae mei sunt essent pauperum.” Ambrose, Ep. 76.8, SAEMO 21. 16 Ambrose of Milan, De officiis 2.142, SAEMO 13 (ed. and trans. G. Banterle, 1977). 17 Peter Brown, Power and Persuasion in Late Antiquity, Towards a Christian Empire (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1992), 101. 18 Brown, Power and Persuasion, 102-3. 19 See Ambrose, Off. 2.151. 20 Curiously, no letters survive addressed to Petronius Probus, his most important patron, or to Symmachus, whose letters to Ambrose are preserved. 21 See Franco Gori, ed. and trans., Verginità e vedovanza, SAEMO 14 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 1989), 115, n. 1.

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he wrote to forty different individuals or groups plus the discrete letters addressed mostly to emperors. It is devilishly difficult to date most of these letters. They are largely bereft of any chronological markers and twenty-five are very brief, even to a few sentences. 22 Many of them are epistulae amicitiae, that is, short missives designed, as Cristiana Sogno says of the letters of Symmachus, for the “formation and preservation of ties of friendship.”23 The content is not particularly important. “Le message n’est pas contenu dans la lettre,” as Phillppe Bruggisser observes, rather, “il est la lettre elle-meme.”24 In addition to serving Ambrose’s intent to cement his relations with other elites, it is clear that Ambrose is often acting as a patron writing in favor of or directly to his clients. In twenty-three letters he refers to the addressee as filius a characteristic of how a patron would relate to his client. Seven of these are to laymen, fifteen to priests, and one to a bishop. Recipients include Iraeneus, a priest of Milan of Greek or Egyptian origin; Hortentianus, a priest whom Ambrose had baptized and ordained; and a “high magistrate” named Studius.25 Another seven letters are addressed to fratri bishops: Anysius, Candidatus, Sabinus, Severus, Syagrius, and the Bishop of Rome, Sircius. In four letters the patron Ambrose seeks to resolve disputes: to Marcellus, Syagrius (twice) and Virgilius. The latter two, at least, were bishops. 26 His letter to Bishop Eusebius (#26) can be called a commendatica; to Bishop Constantius he assigns a task to be done (#36); and in two others he advocates for Atticus and Cynegius, both laymen.27 We can look briefly at two rather interesting cases where Ambrose used letters to assert his patronage. In the first situation a young man named Cynegius asked for Ambrose to intervene with his father, Paternus, who was 22

Of these, the most charming is that to Atticus (praetorian prefect for Italy, 384), which is five sentences long and consists mostly of a game to see how many times he can mention the name of one “Priscus” (nine times, including pronouns) in order to make a word joke: “not only by his name but by long interval of time he came to me as truly pristine (priscus).” Ambrose, Epistle 42, SAEMO 20 (ed. and trans. Gabriele Banterle, 1988). 23 Cristiana Sogno, Q Aurelius Symmachus: A Political Biography (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 2006), 88. 24 In Catherine Conybeare, review of The Letters of Symmachus: Book 1, by Michele Renee Salzman and Michael Roberts, Journal of Late Antiquity 5, no. 2 (Fall, 2012): 412-14, https://doi:10.1353/jla.2012.0023. 25 Giuseppe Visonà, ed., Sussidi: Cronologia Ambrosiana/Bibliografia Ambrosiana, SAEMO 25/26 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 2004), 25:66-87. 26 Ambrose, Ep. 24, SAEMO 19, and Ep. 56,57 and 62, SAEMO 20. 27 Ep. 26, SAEMO 19; Ep. 36, 42, and 59, SAEMO 20.

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the proconsul for Africa in 393 or 396 and comes sacrarum largitionum for Honorius in 396.28 The issue was that the father wanted the son to marry the boy’s cousin. With a cheeky sense of humor, Ambrose writes that “[I] freely took your burdens upon myself and restored, I suppose, the niece to her uncle. I don’t know what he was thinking to want her to become his daughter-in-law or to change from uncle to father-in-law. It isn’t necessary to say more, lest this begins to get embarrassing.”29 In another, much more serious case, Ambrose had to write two letters, Epistles 56 and 57. Syagrius, the eleventh Bishop of Verona, was hearing the case of the vowed virgin, Indicia, whose brother-in-law had accused her of killing her newborn child. Syagrius appealed to Ambrose who, having no juridicial authority, is clearly Syagrius’s patron. Ambrose urged him to drop the case but he didn’t. Syagrius wanted to subject Indicia to a test to prove her virginity. Ambrose adamantly rejects this option, using the legal argument that such a thing should never be allowed to become the norm.30 He advances a passionate defense of Indicia, as though she were also his client. Bishop Syagrius is discovered to have not been entirely forthcoming with Ambrose. 31 Ambrose uses character witnesses, including his own sister Marcellina to exonerate Indicia. 32 In his mind, the case is resolved in Indicia’s favor and Ambrose writes Syagrius about his decision, assuming it was final. Yet Syagrius went ahead with the test and Ambrose was not pleased. In a second letter he launches into a strong, if still fraternal, chastisement33 using long passages from Judges 19-21 and Genesis 20 as the basis of his argument.34 Although Ambrose’s patronage had failed to achieve the desired result for Indicia, the whole episode remains, nonetheless, a vivid expression of his self-awareness as patron to vowed virgins and even to other bishops. In addition to the evidence of his letters, there are many other hints of Ambrose’s patrocinium. For example, the popular acclamation for him to become their bishop may have been influenced by the crowd’s awareness 28

Visonà, Sussidi, 76. Ambrose, Ep. 59 to Cynegius, SAEMO 20. See. Ep. 58 to Paternus (SAEMO 20): “Ego vero libenter tua in me onera suscepi, et avo neptem, ut opinor, refudi. Quam nescio plane qua opinione nurum sibi fieri desiderabat ut avam socero mutaret. Plura non opus est, ne hoc quoque accedat ad verecundiam.” 30 Ambrose, Ep.56.5 to Syagrius. 31 Ambrose, Ep.56.18. 32 Ambrose, Ep. 56.21-23. 33 Ambrose, Ep.57.1-2 to Syagrius. 34 Ambrose, Ep. 57.19. 29

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that, being wealthy, he would make a very nice patron-bishop. Those same crowds seemed to respond to his influence and were under his protection when they took to the streets and occupied the churches during the basilica controversy with Justina. When demanded to rein in the mob, he demurs, “I was called upon to pacify he people. I replied that it was in my authority not to rouse them, but to soothe them was in the hand of God.” 35 His selfdeprecating claim that he cannot control the crowd rings hollow. Indeed, on another occasion during the same crisis Ambrose tells the emperor that, when the crowd surged forward “ready to die for their faith in Christ” against armed troops, he “did draw the people away” to avert violence.36 In another instance, unavailable to defend the victims of Theodosius’s massacre at Thessaloniki beforehand, he “persuaded, requested, encouraged, and advised” penance for “the destruction of so many innocent people.”37 And in another case, he sought imperial mercy for the bishop of Callenicum who had instigated a riot that destroyed a synagogue. It is worth noting that Ambrose admits the bishop’s guilt.38 In one curious situation, Ambrose may have literally stood between wild animals and the emperor to protect a nonChristian. Sozomen places the scene at the time of Gratian. A certain “pagan of distinction” was condemned for having insulted Gratian. Paulinus, who names the man Cresonius, adds that he fled to the church for sanctuary. He was seized and sent to be killed by wild beasts. Ambrose entered the arena with the bestiarii to confront the emperor directly. Faced with Ambrose’s obduracy the convict was released.39 It can certainly be noted that, in the latter two instances, Ambrose may also have had certain political-theological reasons for acting, namely protecting the autonomy of the Church. Nonetheless, he advocated for victims of imperial over-reach acting as their patron. His episcopalis audientia was another means of defending his clients, including a fellow bishop and that man’s sister, who were threatened by a

35 Ambrose, Ep. 76.10 to Marcellina: “Exigebatur a me, ut compescerem populum. Referebam in meo jure esse, ut non excitarem: in Dei manu, uti mitigaret.” 36 Ambrose, Ep. 75A. 29-30 Contra Auxentium, SAEMO 21. 37 Ambrose, Ep. ex coll. 11.12 to Theodosius, SAEMO 21. 38 Ambrose, Ep. 74 to Theodosius, SAEMO 21. 39 Sozomen, Ecclesiastical History, 7.25.10-12. Paulinus places the scene under Honorius, with Stilicho, influenced by the “perfidy of the arians,” defying Ambrose, who remained “prostrate in lamentation” in the church. Stilicho relented when leopards attacked the very guards who had arrested the man. See Paulinus of Milan, Vita Ambrosii, 34. In Boniface Ramsey, Ambrose (London, New York: Routledge, 1997), 210.

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land dispute with their brother.40 In this case he advocated that the greedy brother be allowed to take the property, so long as he endowed the sister. He even acted, if it might be said, in loco parentis for the young emperors Gratian and his brother Valentinian II, whom he chastised and eulogized. He also advised, instructed, and protected them. Later, he offered the same for Arcadius and especially for Honorius, both sons of Theodosius.41 More intriguing is Ambrose’s very Roman-Christian theology of patronage, adapted from his mentor in ethics, Marcus Tullius Cicero. It can be said that Cicero considered the virtuous, the expedient (utile), and even the decorous bearing of the aristocrat to be the means by which he exercised his patronage as a duty owed to all the citizens of Rome. 42 This Stoic emphasis on the common good informs Cicero’s entire political philosophy. To this, Ambrose adds a Christian eschatological dimension: virtue as meritorious toward salvation. The result is the assertion that one must categorically imitate God through the completion of one’s duty to serve the common good while at the same time becoming worthy of salvation by being virtuous.43 This is quintessential Ambrose: not one (pagan virtue) or the other (Christian salvation) but the latter super additur on the former. The first without the second is flawed or at least incomplete. For Ambrose, virtue must be pure, disassociated from any mere practical expediency (utilitas), even while simultaneously aiding in one’s gaining eternal life. The result is an utterly Christian sense of patronage. It is, in a sense, more rigorous than Cicero’s because it requires the purest of intentions. It is also more expansive, in that the object of one’s patronage is not restricted to fellow citizens, but to everyone and especially to the most marginalized. Furthermore, the good that accrues to the patron is not merely the obsequious servility of the client for one’s social, economic, or political

40 Cesare Pasini, Ambrose of Milan: Deeds and Thought of a Bishop, trans. Robert Grant (New York: St. Paul’s Press, 2013), 192-194. 41 As hinted at by Ambrose, De Fide 1.1, SAEMO 15 (ed. Claudio Moroschini,1984); De obitu Valentiani 23, and De obitu Theodosii 5, SAEMO 18. 42 In Marcia L. Colish, The Stoic Tradition from Antiquity to the Early Middle Ages, vol. 1. Stoicism in Christian Latin Thought through the Sixth Century (New York: E.J. Brill, 1990), 92-94. 43 Ambrose, Off. 1.28 “ad vitam illius aeternae,” in Marcia L. Colish, The Stoic Tradition from Antiquity to the Early Middle Ages, vol. 2, Stoicism in Christian Latin Thought through the Sixth Century (New York, København, Köln: E.J. Brill, 1990), 60-61.

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gain, but theological merit: union with God. For Ambrose, there can be no short-cuts: nothing is expedient if not also virtuous.44 Thus Ambrose excoriates what he sees as Cicero’s substitution of the virtuous for the merely expedient when Cicero justifies forging useful friendships with “imperfect” men if it serves some immediate purpose, or asserts that owning private property is acceptable as long as it is used for the common good. “But it often happens,” Cicero says, “that those principles seen to be worthy of just men and those we call ‘good men’ are changed and made contrary . . . it might be relevant to depart from what truth and loyalty require and to not serve what may be just.”45 Ambrose bluntly retorts: “This is what they [i.e., the philosophers] say.” He can’t agree with that because only pure virtue is a means by which one is saved. This orientation changes everything. Being good does serve the common good, as Cicero says, but it also constitutes merit toward salvation: “but . . . we define nothing to be useful if it is not for the blessing of eternal life; not that which is for present enjoyment . . . . Rather, we posit these to be disadvantages if not rejected, and to be judged to be burdensome more than as a loss when expended.”46 Ambrose is, in effect, introducing a new Christian virtue. “Nothing commends the Christian soul like mercy, offered first to the poor, that they have common right to their share of nature, which produces the fruits of the earth for use to everyone.” To this fortified Ciceronian position Ambrose adds the vital addendum, expanding on the claim of Cyprian of Carthage: “Further, the poor one bestows more on you than you on him, since he is your debtor in regard to your salvation... if you support the needy, he acquires for you the friendship of the saints and an eternal dwellings. That is no mean gift.”47 To clarify, by giving to the poor, the wealthy become the clients of the poor. These poor patrons unburden the wealthy of their wealth, 44

Ambrose, Off. 2.6.22-25, . Cicero: De officiis 1. 46, 51 and 31: “Sed incidunt saepe tempora, cum ea, quae maxime videntur digna esse iusto homine eoque, quem virum bonum dicimus commutanture fiuntque contraria . . . ad veritatem et ad fidem, ea migrare interdum et non servare fit justum.” 46 Ambrose, Off. 1.27-28: “Haec illi. Nihilque utile nisi quod ad vitae illius aeternae prosit gratia definimus, non quod ad delectationem praesentis . . . sed incommoda haec putatmus, si non rejiciantur; eaque oneri cum sint aestimari magis quam dispendiocum erogantur.” 47 Ambrose, Off. 1.38-39, 155: “Nihil tam commendat Christianam animam quam misericordia. Primum in pauperes, ut communes judices partus naturae, quae omnibus ad usum generat fructus terrarium . . . . Ad haec plus ille tibi confert, cum sit debitor salutis . . . ille tibi adquirit sanctorum amicitias, et aeterna tabernacula. Non mediocris ista gratia. 45

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which would otherwise impede their salvation. In doing so, as patrons recommending their clients, they present the rich to God. It is worth pausing for a moment to consider what Ambrose has done here. The patron-client relationship has been completely up-ended. This, to put it modestly, is something entirely new. His exemplar for this theological inversion of the rich and poor into client and patron is signaled in his story of the martyr Lawrence.48 Ambrose is our first source for the now famous anecdote that tells how, when required to produce the treasure of the Church, Lawrence boldly offered the poor. “These,” he said, “are the treasures of the Church.” In the end, Lawrence himself, “who preferred to spend the gold of the Church on the poor rather than save it for the persecutor, received the sacred crown of martyrdom for his singular and ebullient interpretations.”49 The poor are the treasure of the Church because, first, they are unhampered by the dragging influence of wealth and secondly because they provide the opportunity for the rich to be unshackled of that weight through their largesse. For Ambrose, almsgiving is not the act of a patron to a client, but the reverse. The poor are active subjects, not passive recipients. They are associated with Christ himself and almsgiving extends amicitia to these potential patrons, it is a means of becoming an offspring or brothers or “mutual servants of God.”50 Thus, duty to the poor is both mandated by Christian ethics and encouraged by Christian teleology: we will get into heaven on the shirt-tails of the poor whom we assist from our means and by means of whom we are released from the obstacle of our wealth.51 Here is the fullest expression of what may be called an “Ambrosian” patron/client relationship. The poor, by offering “spiritual blessings” to the rich, become their patrons.52 The poor use their influence to “take every care . . . to do whatever I can, while preserving my good faith, to help you . . . and always to procure your advantage.” The rich, now liberated from the great impediment to salvation that was their wealth, respond with the virtues 48 For the martyrdom of Lawrence, Ambrose, Off. 1.214-16: for the story of the poor, Off. 2. 140-41. 49 Ambrose, Off. 2.141. “Illi sunt thesaruri ecclesiae . . . Laurentius, qui aurum Ecclesiae maluit erogare pauperibus, quam persecutori reservare, pro singulari suae interpretationis vivacitate sacrum martyrii acceptit coronam . . . .” 50 Ambrose, De Nabuthae historia 14.59, SAEMO 6: “Proprii servi dominus.”. 51 Richard Finn, Almsgiving in the Later Roman Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 182. 52 Ambrose, Off. 1. 155. The poor person gives “spiritual blessings” to the rich. See Paulinus of Nola, Epistula 13.11, (CSEL 29.92): “patronos animarum nostrarum pauperes.”

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of faithful clients with “loyalty, services, regular visits to the patron’s home and public displays of support.”53 Similarly, Ambrose re-imaged the martyrs as spiritual patrons. These “friends of God” become special intercessors between God and humanity.54 Ambrose, descendant of the martyr Soteris, was, along with Damasus of Rome, instrumental in developing the cult of the martyr-saints. Among these, Gervasius and Protasius hold central place in Ambrose’s Milan. They were not merely his bodyguards (as the medieval gates of Milan repeatedly portray them) but his powerful patrons,55 to whom he ceded his own tomb beneath the altar of the basilica Ambrosiana and between whom he now resides, flanked, as it were, by his patrons. The very physical remains of these martyrs were deemed holy. Therefore, whoever possessed these relics was under the protection of these spiritual patrons. Christians who, at their baptisms, were re-named for the saints shared their patron saint’s birthday (i.e., the day they were martyred). Christians of Ambrose’s time added to their traditional notion of amicitia the “intensity of the late-Roman loyalty to patroni and the beloved teachers suffused their new forged style of relationship with the other world.”56 W. H. C. Frend argues that Christian patronage did not change the underlying economic, political, or social structures. He adds that Christianity did not attempt this. It would not have succeeded. It could and did, he says, use pressure to “denounce the worst abuses of power and wealth.” In the end it was “mainly concerned with the improvement of the lot of individuals within the already existing order.”57 This judgment misses the larger vision of Ambrose. Positioned better than most bishops and from a higher socio-economic status than any, it was his intent to convert his Roman tradition into a distinctly new, Christian, creation. Just as Christians were transforming the traditional mausoleum into a baptistery or the audience hall (basilica) into a church, Ambrose inverted ancient ideas. In his second response to Symmachus regarding the Altar of Victory, for example, Ambrose envisions Rome as a city of God ruling a Christian empire. “The voice of our emperor must ring out with the 53

In Rhee, Loving the Poor, 15. The quotes come from a traditional Roman patron named Oppius. It is his vow to his clients. Ambrose flips the reference on its head: Oppius’s clients are Ambrose’s patrons, and vice-versa. 54 Peter Brown, The Making of Late Antiquity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1978), 55. 55 Ambrose, Ep. 77.10, to Marcellina): “tutiora patrocinia sunt.” 56 Peter Brown, The Cult of Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity (Chicago, London, University of Chicago Press, 1981), 60. 57 H. W. C. Frend, The Rise of Christianity (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984), 569.

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name of Christ,” he says. Rome herself does not “blush at becoming a convert as the same time as the whole world.”58 Ambrose confirms “the continuity of Rome’s traditions . . . adding that that tradition is not broken but rather will continue and will be perfected in Christianity . . . to the end of the ages.”59 Thus romanitas is baptized. Similarly, philodemos, that is, the love of one’s city and (only) its citizens, is converted to philanthropy, care for all of humanity. 60 Cicero’s stoic service of the state becomes Christian duty to the marginalized.61 It is not that surprising, then, that he would so radically re-construct patrocinium that we may speak of his theology of patronage. Succinctly put, rendering service to those who are socially inferior, economically disadvantaged, or politically oppressed is not the act of a patron but the duty of a client. These poor, by facilitating one’s divestment from material wealth that drags against salvation, are liberators unto eternal life. Similarly, to venerate the relics of those who died for their faith is to claim them as one’s patrons who advocate their client’s case before Christ, the ultimate patron. This has implications for ethics as well as soteriology. This re-construction of community also has important implications for Ambrose’s theology of free will. He clearly asserts that, by becoming client to the poor, one gains merit toward salvation. This is to say that the rich can both choose and earn eternal life. It cannot be easily reconciled to, much less equated with, the predestinarian theology of grace which his own onetime client, Augustine, will arrive at some decades later. In his City of God, for example, ethical goodness is detached from merit, for “. . . such men, whether the virtues they have in this life be great or small, ascribe them only to the grace of God.”62 This later Augustinian position concludes that free will is permanently impaired by original sin and that God’s grace alone, not human choice, is the means of redemption. On the contrary, Ambrose’s faith-informed patronage leaves no doubt on this score: to care for the poor and to venerate the martyrs constitute good works which serve the advantage the Christian client. It is simultaneously 58

Ambrose, Ep. 73.10, 7, SAEMO 21. Cesare Pasini, Ambrose of Milan, 113. 60 Peter Brown, Through the Eye of the Needle Wealth, the Fall of Rome, and the Making of Christianity in the West, 350-550 AD (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2012), 73. 61 See Ivor Davidson, “Introduction,” in Ambrose: De Officiis, vol. 1, Introduction, Text, and Translation, ed. and trans. Ivor Davidson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 11 and 17. 62 Augustine, De civitate Dei 5, trans. William M. Green, Augustine: City of God (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1963) 245. 59

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the right thing to do by nature (officium) and meritorious toward salvation, in addition to the power of God’s grace. “Mercy . . . is a good thing, for it makes men perfect,” he says, adding that mercy is “shown chiefly towards the poor . . . .” And there is more: the poor recipient of mercy “bestows more on you than you on him, since you are indebted to him for your salvation.”63 Ambrose does not prefer either stoic deontology or an Augustinian teleology but grafts the latter onto the former: being neither one nor the other, exactly, he creates a hybrid. He is trying “neither to prove the inferiority of philosophy to the Gospel nor to synthesize it systematically with the Gospel. Ambrose does not labor under the uncritical delusion that Stoicism is isomorphic with Christianity.” 64 In short, Ambrose (very unlike his protégé) simply doesn’t seem to see the problem regarding the conflict between grace and good works. It is entirely possible that he is just being theologically inchoate, or even contradictory. No one has ever accused him of being particularly systematic. On the other hand, and more self-evident in his deeds and words, he genuinely does believe that grace builds on nature or, in even more Ambrosian concepts, that Christian faith builds on Roman tradition. If this is so, then Ambrose of Milan is engaged in the reconstruction of Roman tradition into what he may well have envisioned as a dawning new Roman Christianity. “As all people that are under the dominion of Rome serve you, emperors, and princes of this world, so you yourselves serve almighty God and the holy faith.”65 Ambrose could not be more clear about his vision. And, finally, to return to the specifics of this study, Ambrose inverts the client/patron relationship by elevating the poor and the martyrs to positions of influence with God for us while simultaneously he continued to operate as a Roman elite patron in the traditional sense. He managed this apparent contradiction with sublime legal nuance: having surrendered his own wealth to the Church, he was empowered, as the Bishop-steward of that great resource, to use it as a client to two patrons: alleviating the woes of the poor and venerating the relics of the martyrs. As for Ambrose himself, he has grown, throughout the long centuries and across continents, into both patron and saint.

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Ambrose, Off. 1.38-39. Colish, The Stoic Tradition, 2:50. 65 Ambrose, Ep. 72.1, SAEMO 21. 64

CHAPTER THREE COMMUNITY IN TRANSITION: AMBROSE’S DE VIRGINITATE AS TESTIMONY OF A HIERARCHICAL REVERSAL BETWEEN VIRGINS AND BISHOP METHA HOKKE

Introduction1 Neil McLynn points out the development of Ambrose’s “episcopal persona” between De Virginibus (Virg.) and De Virginitate (Virgt.). In Virgt., Ambrose presented himself as a fisherman like Peter.2 In Virg. (377), the first treatise in which Ambrose comes out to the world as a bishop after he acquired the episcopacy in 374, he portrayed himself as a modest student of virginity. Scholars agree that Virgt. has been composed later than Virg., but there is no scholarly consensus as to whether it was written directly after Virg. or in the 380s.3 The topic of this paper is Ambrose’s episcopal self-assertion in Virgt. in relation to the virgins and the larger community of the Church. Metaphors for the Church in both Virg. and Virgt. are important indications of how Ambrose visualizes the hierarchical relationships within the Church. Also, 1

I want to thank Michael S. Williams and Brian Dunkle for their comments on the first draft of this article. 2 Neil McLynn, Ambrose of Milan. Church and Court in a Christian Capital (Berkeley: University of California, 1994), 64. McLynn refers here to Virgt. 16.10520.135. Franco Gori, ed., Sant’Ambrogio: Opere morali II: Verginità e Vedovanza, SAEMO 14, bk. 1, De virginibus, De viduis, and bk. 2, De virginitate, De institutione virginis, Exhortatio virginitatis (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 1989). 3 McLynn, Ambrose, 64: Virgt. dated directly after Virg. Gori, “Introduzione,” in SAEMO 14, 1:69-70, bases his later dating on the affinities with De Isaac and Expositio Psalmi CXVIII.

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metaphors for the virgins and the bishop are relevant. The metaphors and textual exegeses discussed in this paper can not only be considered as reflecting the social relations within the ecclesiastical community, but also as directing them. The discussion will begin with Ambrose’s configuration of bishop, virgins and Church in Virg. He makes himself known as an inexperienced bishop, who cannot rule over the spiritually independent virgins (1-2). In Virg. Ambrose’s recruitment of virgins is largely implicit, as is his episcopal authority. His main device of recruitment is the elevation of the virginal ordo to angelic height by its identification with the supernatural virtue of virginity and the Church (3). With the metaphor of virgin mother for the Church, Ambrose lifts the virgins up, but degrades himself as student of virginity among the rest of the community (4). His authority as bishop elected by God is symbolized by the nuts of Aaron’s rod in Virgt. These nuts are the produce of the garden, metaphor of the Church. In this garden prominence has been assigned to Christians of different levels of spiritual development instead of exclusively to the virgin in Virg. (5). In Virgt. the bishop takes control over the life of virgins and mediates not only the virgin’s, but also every Christian’s way to Christ (6). Bishop Ambrose speaks in loco ecclesiae. The crucial role the apostles come to play in Virgt. will be demonstrated in the last three passages. In the first passage about the metaphor of heavenly Jerusalem for the Church, the openness of the Church is emphasized more than the importance of the apostles in the build-up of the Church (7). In Virgt. 18.119-20.135, several themes come together. From the ship, a metaphor for the Church, Peter fishes Stephen by hook and the unbelievers by net, in Ambrose’s exposition. Ambrose identifies with both Stephen and Peter. For Ambrose, the hook represents being elected by God for an ecclesiastical function (Stephan as deacon, Ambrose as bishop), but more so for martyrdom. Peter’s fishing for converts by nets inspired Ambrose’s episcopal fishing for virgins. Both hook and net are labelled doctrina (8). The bishop as successor to the apostles and the subjugation of the virgins and the rest of the ecclesiastical community to the doctrinal authority of the bishop are most explicit in Virgt. 3.14-4.24, a passage about the virgins and apostles at Christ’s grave (9).

Ambrose’s acknowledged inexperience with virginity in Virg. In Virg. Ambrose apologizes for his inexperience, both as bishop and as practitioner of virginal life. Ambrose’s display of his inadequacy illustrates

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his dependence on God’s grace for the fulfillment of his office.4 After an episcopacy of less than three years, he is still a worldly man. 5 He has undertaken the task of writing a treatise about virginity thus: “like a slave, I will praise the family of the Lord,” i.e., the virgins.6 In the introduction to Virg. 2, Ambrose points out that this book should be about educating the virgins, but that he is incapable of doing this, because a teacher should be superior to his students. Besides, the virgins already have the authority of a martyr to instruct them how to lead a virginal life. The episcopal status of this martyr, Cyprian of Carthage, remains unmentioned. 7 Ambrose only adduces attractive examples of martyred virgins to show his sympathy for the virgins who requested him to write about virginity.8 Unlike Origen and Cyprian of Carthage, Ambrose upgrades virginity to the rank of martyrdom.9

The spiritual independence of the Virg. virgin In Virg., the virgins’ spiritual independence is still a praiseworthy quality. Virg.’s exemplary virgins have an unmediated relationship with God. Mary might go to church with her parents, but she is self-taught in religion.10 A woman (mulier) is subjected to a man, but the virgin, the martyred Theodora in this case, resides directly under Christ. 11 Also Ambrose’s sister, Marcellina, is said to be her own teacher in virginity. Ambrose explains his sister’s ascetic self-sufficiency as a heritable quality. This heritage goes 4 Ambrose, Virg. 1.1.1-4; 2.1.2; 2.6.39. McLynn, Ambrose, 60 about Virg.: “Ambrose hesitates to claim any authority over the virgins”. Cf. Virgt. 20.133 (Peter’s humble position). Partly, Ambrose’s modesty is a rhetorical device. 5 Ambrose, Virg. 1.1.3; 2.6.39 (the only time in Virg. Ambrose calls himself bishop). 6 Ambrose, Virg. 1.1.4: “quasi servus domini familiam praedicabo.” 7 Yves-Marie Duval, “Originalité du De Virginibus dans le mouvement ascétique occidental Ambroise, Cyprien, Athanase,” in Ambroise de Milan: XVIe centenaire de son élection épiscopale: dix études, ed. Yves-Marie Duval (Paris: Études augustiniennes, 1974), 9-66: this martyr is Cyprian of Carthage (22-23). 8 Ambrose, Virg. 2.1.1-4. 9 Ambrose, Virg. 1.3.10: virginity is the main (principalis) virtue. Virginity is not praiseworthy because it is found in martyrs, but because it makes martyrs. Katrin Pietzner, “Ordnung durch Geschlecht? Cyprian, die Jungfrauen und die christliche Gemeinde von Karthago,” in Geschlechterdefinitionen und Geschlechtergrenzen in der Antike, ed. Elke Hartmann, Udo Hartmann, and Katrin Pietzner (Stuttgart: Steiner, 2007), 133-52: Cyprian regulates virginal ordo (136); virgins ranked lower than martyrs (138, 141). Origen developed the same hierarchy (141, n. 44). 10 Ambrose, Virg. 2.2.9-10. 11 Ambrose, Virg. 2.4.29.

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back to a common martyred “ancestress,” Soteris, and so Ambrose implies he also has inherited this ascetical quality. 12 This inherited virtuousness qualifies him for the episcopal office.13

Recruitment of virgins in Virg. and Virgt. In Virg. Ambrose mentions “a fertile troop (agmen) of chastity,” a group of independent virgins who lived together in a community at Bologna, provided for their own livelihood, and actively recruited other virgins. Their active propaganda for virginity seems to contradict the reticent, subservient, domestic behavior Ambrose usually advocates for virgins. 14 Ambrose himself, however, is the main recruiter in writing Virg. He attempts to make virginal life attractive for potential virgins, their parents, and the rest of the community by strongly identifying virginity, the virgin, and the virgin Church and elevating this cluster above this-worldly reality. 15 Ambrose declares to have written Virg. 2 on demand of virgins, whom he specifically addresses.16 Here he is most explicit about his tactic of flattering persuasion to a virginal life.17 In Virgt., Ambrose explicitly states that recruitment and support for virginity is his episcopal task. 18 In Virgt. 19.121-129, the virgins are exhorted to be caught by the apostolic nets. 19 Yet, Ambrose’s initial interpretation of the nets is applicable to all Christians. In 20.130, Ambrose asks the community for their prayer for his fishing in the deep, characterized 12

Ambrose, Virg. 3.7.37-38. Ambrose, Virg. 2.1.2. 14 Ambrose, Virg. 1.10.60-61. In Ambrose’s Milan, virgins continued to live at home (e.g., Virg. 1.7.32), but in Virgt. 7.39, apart from the safe custody of the mother, the assiduity of the companions is mentioned as a factor Ambrose takes into account to judge whether a girl is old enough to be veiled. 15 Supernatural nature of virginity: Virg. 1.3.11; 1.5.20-22; of virgins: 1.3.13; 1.5.2022; 1.6.24. Identification: 1.5.22: “Christ is the groom of the virgin and, if it can be said, of the virginal chastity.” (The virgin then is explained as the Church); 1.5.23: “Let’s descend from the mother to the daughters.” (About virgins); 6.30: virgin; 6.31: Church. Parents: Virg. 1.7.32-35; 1.11.62-64; women: 1.9.55; widows: 1.10.57-59; community: 1.2.5. 16 Ambrose, Virg. 2.1.3 (asked by virgins); 2.6.39. Virg. 2.2.18: beatae virgines; 2.4.26: virgines, virgines dei; 2.4.27; 2.6.39: sanctae virgines. 17 Ambrose, Virg. 2.6.39-42; 2.1.4-5. Virg. 3 is written with the experienced virgin Marcellina in mind: 3.1.1: soror sancta; 3.3.13: virgo dei, tu; 3.4.15: tu; 2.4.16: tu, virgo veterana; 3.4.17: et tu, tuis hortis; 3.7.32: soror sancta; 3.7.37: soror. 18 Ambrose, Virgt. 5.26. 19 Ambrose, Virgt. 19.121: filiae; 127: filia, … te; 128: tu, te, tibi; 129: mireris. 13

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by the “tempests and gales of this world.” The people (plebs) caught are qualified as immaculate.20 The expertise of his fellow bishop from Bologna “at this kind of fishing” refers to recruiting virgins. The virgins are the ones addressed in 20.131 (filiae, vos). Their characterization as troop (agmen) reminds one of the characterization of the virgins from Bologna in Virg. Now we will examine the metaphor for the community, the Church, in Virg. 1.

Metaphor for the Church in Virg. 1 The virgin Church becomes wife and mother in her marriage with Christ. Her offspring are not limited to the virgins, but encompass the ecclesiastical community. 21 The virgin Church feeds us with her own milk. After Ambrose has explained the contradictory qualities of rock (hard, barren) and breasts (soft, fertile) from Jer 18:13-14 as referring to Christ, he reveals how the Church, “the virgin Jerusalem,” is fed. She is nourished by and depends on the water from the sources of the Trinity: Christ’s (the rock’s) breasts, God’s brilliance, and the streaming water of the Spirit. 22 Later, the parturition of the virgin mother Church is identified as eschatological in the terms of Isaiah: its painlessness (66:7) and its abundance (54:1). The milk we are fed with is not from the Church’s body, but from the apostle (i.e., Paul). 23 For participation in the Church’s wedding to Christ Ambrose distinguishes two levels: for the people the sacrament of baptism, for the individual soul the perfection after baptism in virginity.24

20

Ambrose, Virgt. 20.130: “tempestates et procellae mundi huius.” Cf. Sacr. 3.1.3: the neophyte is exhorted to imitate the fish in staying within the tumultuous sea of the world without drowning in it. Also, the regenerative function of the baptismal water (regenero) seems to be transformed in this text to the apostolic support for the virgins (vivifico: Virgt. 20.131). Joseph Schmitz, Ambrosius. De Sacramentis. De Mysteriis, Fontes Christiani 3 (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1990). 21 Ambrose, Virg. 1.5.22. Cf. Exh. 7.42: At Easter, day of the universal celebration of the sacraments of baptism and the veiling of virgins, the Church gives birth to many sons and daughters without pain. This offspring is called “populus consecratus” (consecrated people). The unbaptized part of the ecclesiastical community probably is not included in Ambrose’s concept of the Church. 22 Ambrose, Virg. 1.5.22. Jer 18:13-14: Expositio Psalmi 118 17.32. 1 Cor 10:4: the baptized people drank from the spiritual Rock that accompanied them, Christ. 23 Ambrose, Virg. 1.6.31. In Inst. 17.109 similar things are said, but now in regard to the individual virgin: she is pregnant by the Holy Spirit, and the immaculate offspring she gives birth to are named as faith, piety and the spirit of salvation. 24 Ambrose, Virg. 1.6.31.

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While the Church functions as mother to the whole ecclesiastical community, she is especially responsible for the maintenance of the virgins’ virginity. Like a wall with breast-like towers, she protects the young virgins from worldly attacks. She is not the only protector of the virgins, though. Christ himself and the angels safeguard the virgins too.25 Apart from the identification of virginity—virgin—virgin Church, Ambrose brings about the elevation of virginal life by the equation with angelic life in Virg. 1.26 While in Virg. Ambrose describes himself as a student of virginity, a position he has in common with the rest of the ecclesiastical community, in Virgt. the virgins are classified as a superior part of the community under the authority of bishop Ambrose. 27 The passage about the fruiting of Aaron’s rod in Virgt. not only indicates Ambrose’s matured episcopal authority, but also a shift in the relationship bishop–virgins–Church.

Aaron’s rod symbolizes Ambrose’s episcopal authority Given his controversial election, the budding of the rod of high priest Aaron as metaphor for Ambrose’s episcopal authority is significant. By this budding God re-established Aaron’s high-priestly authority under threat by the rebellion of Korach, Dathan and Abiram who advocated the priesthood of all believers. In Virg., Ambrose uses the metaphor to indicate that God could easily make his episcopacy flourish too. 28 More so, this budding would imply God’s approval of Ambrose’s episcopacy: it would make him a bishop elected by God. In Virgt. 16.98-99 Aaron’s rod flourishes. Ambrose identifies the fruit of Aaron’s rod with the crops of the nut tree 25

Ambrose, Virg.1.8.49: wall, breasts, towers are a reinterpretation of Sg 8:10. Virg. 1.8.50: Christ; 1.8.51: angels. Cf. Virg. 2.6.43: the virgin builds towers of virtues (Sg 8:9) on the wall and thus deters her enemies. 26 Angels: Virg. (18 times); Virgt. (14 times). Virginal life as angelic life: Virg. 1.3.11,13; 1.8.51-53; 1.8.52: “Chastity has made angels. He who has preserved it is an angel”; 1.8.53: “Virgins have crossed from the world to heaven by means of chastity.” The future predicted in Mt 22:30; Mk 12:25 that in the resurrection we will become as the angels in heaven has become actualized on earth for virgins, according to Virgt. 6.27; Virg. 1.3.11; 1.8.52. 27 Volker Leppin, “Das Bischofsmartyrium als Stellvertretung bei Cyprian von Karthago,” Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum 4 (2000): 255-69, offers interesting similarities and differences in the changed self-conception of a bishop with regard to his ecclesiastical community. 28 Ambrose, Virg. 1.1.2. Nm 16-17. Roger Gryson, “Le thème du bâton d’Aaron dans l’oeuvre de saint Ambroise,” Revue des Études Augustiniennes 26 (1980): 2944. Gryson claims that Ambrose’s entire episcopal theology is summarized in Aaron’s rod (29, 43-44), citing Virg. 1.1.2 (33) and Virgt. 16.98 (40).

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garden of Sg 6.11 or the Church. Ambrose ascribes his episcopal productiveness to a virtus secreta, a secret power (Nm 17:8). Priestly grace and effort contribute to the growing of the nuts. The allusion to Jeremiah’s call by God is relevant in this context.29 The imagery of the nut tree garden (Sg 6.11) is replaced by that of the more intimate garden (Sg 5:1). The goal of the building-up of the Church is to attract Christ that he may eat the honey “collected from the flowers of different virtues, assembled by the harmonious effort of those bees who preach wisdom. The holy Church stores away (this honey) to be Christ’s food.”30 While in Virg. the bees were explicitly identified with the virgins, 31 in Virgt. the bishops might be characterized as bees who preach wisdom and regulate virtues within the Church. The diversity of the virtues by which the Church flourishes makes the Church a more inclusive community. This observation is reinforced by the next paragraph, where Christ is within everyone’s reach: “whether sick by bodily sins, nailed to worldly desire, still imperfect but progressing by serious meditation, or already perfected by many virtues.”32 Aaron’s rod is a sign of Ambrose’s episcopal election by God, from its budding in Virg. to its nuts in Virgt. The merging of virgin and Church in Virg. 1 has been replaced by a similar merging of bishop and Church in Virgt.16.98. Ambrose’s Church in Virgt. is more inclusive than in Virg. This is partly due to the virgins’ losing their monopoly on Christian perfection, independent of episcopal authority.

29

Ambrose, Virgt. 16.98: in the nut tree garden (6:11 LXX/ Masoretic = Sg 6:10 Vulg.) is the fruit of the reading of the prophets and the priestly grace. Gori, SAEMO 14, 2:79, n. 175 and Gryson, "Bâton d’Aaron,” 40, agree that profetica lectio alludes to Jer 1:11. 30 Ambrose, Virgt. 16.98. Origen combined the same biblical texts and must have influenced Ambrose (cf. Gryson, “Bâton d’Aaron,” 31-32, for Origen). Gori, SAEMO 14, 1:86-88 shows Origen’s influence on this passage but does not mention Gryson. 31 Ambrose, Virg. 1.8.40. Note that in the analogy of the coordinated gathering of honey by the bees, the efforts of the virgins are praised without mentioning the Church. 32 Ambrose, Virgt. 16.99: “So, we have everything in Christ. Let every soul approach Christ. Sive corporalibus aegra peccatis sive clavis quibusdam saecularis cupiditatis infixa sive imperfecta adhuc quidem, sed intenta tamen meditatione proficiens, sive multis aliqua sit iam perfecta virtutibus, each is in the Lord’s power and Christ is everything to us.” Virgt. 15.93: “Search for him, virgin, more correctly (immo), let’s all search for him.”

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The virgins brought under control of the bishop in Virgt. In Virgt. Ambrose brings the independent virgins under the authority of the bishop and thus incorporates them into the Church. In Virg. Ambrose presents the decision of the virgin Pelagia and her female martyred family to sacrifice their lives rather than to lose their virginity as a personal one, without any mention of ecclesiastical involvement. In Virgt. Ambrose reasons that if virgins were prepared to die for their virginity, a bishop must defend the sacrifice of their virginity, if necessary, with his own life.33 In Virgt. the bishop replaces the virgin in his ambition for martyrdom. Defending his episcopal right to prevent consecrated virgins’ marrying, Ambrose identifies with John the Baptist’s criticism of Herod’s adultery with Herodias. Ambrose would be prepared to suffer a similar martyr’s death if thus he could prevent the worldly marriage of a virgin already married to Christ. 34 It is his episcopal privilege to spread the seeds of virginity and to stimulate the pursuit of it.35 Whether a girl is old enough to become a consecrated virgin is up to the bishop to decide.36 In her search for Christ, the virgin or any of us cannot track him in public spaces. The encounter with Christ is limited to the Church with its monopoly on the virtues of peace, justice, love, and faith.37 The most immediate answer to the question of where Christ can be found is: “in the heart of a wise bishop, of course.”38 This portrays the bishop as the spokesman of the Church. In the intermediate Virgt. section, virgin and bishop are described as subservient to the Church: “Heed to the example of that Church, lest the guards will find us. The Church is not wounded in itself, but in us, daughters.”39 The virgins are exhorted to look for Christ where the Church looks for him: at the fragrant mountains, which stand for the virgins’ sweet aroma before God.40 It also is the Church that teaches how to hold on to 33 Ambrose, Virg. 3.7.33-36. Virgt. 3.13: “potest esse patientia sacerdotum ut non vel morte oblata, si ita necesse est, integritatis sacrificium vindicetur.” 34 Ambrose, Virgt. 3.11-13; 5.24; 18.120: Ambrose’s aspiration for martyrdom; 2.7: children should be offered to God [as virgins], but they should not be strangled (iugulari). 35 Ambrose, Virgt. 5.26: “quod semper spectavit ad gratiam sacerdotum, iacere semina integritatis et virginitatis studia provocare.” 36 Ambrose, Virgt. 7.39. 37 Ambrose, Virgt. 8.46. 38 Ambrose, Virgt. 9.50: “In pectore prudentis scilicet sacerdotis.” 39 Ambrose, Virgt. 8.48: “Ergo caveamus exemplo ecclesiae illius, ne qui nos custodes inveniant, qui circumeunt civitatem: (citation Sg 5.7). Non in se, filiae; non, inquam, in se, filiae, sed in nobis ecclesia vulneratur.” 40 Ambrose, Virgt. 9.49. 2 Cor 2:15 (scent of Christ pleasing to God).

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Christ, when found.41 The Church, itself immaculate, warns the virgin about the danger of pollution.42 The Church is happy about the progress of our faith.43 In these Virgt. examples, Ambrose implicitly refers to his episcopal self, when he speaks about the Church. In Virgt., Ambrose’s earlier identification in Virg. of the virgin with the Church is replaced by that of the bishop with the Church. Ambrose gains control over the virgins. New metaphors are needed to express the identification of the bishop with the Church, such as heavenly Jerusalem and the ship.

Heavenly Jerusalem as metaphor for the Church in Virgt. 13.84-14.92 Apostles, especially Peter, come to play a prominent role in Ambrose’s argument in Virgt.44 This will be illustrated in the discussion of the next three passages. In Virgt. 13.84-14.92, the apostles are the builders of the Church allegorized as heavenly Jerusalem (Rv 21).45 This metaphor was evoked by Sg 5:7: the guards of the wall have taken away the cloak of the bride looking for her beloved. This would refer to the virgin’s as yet unsuccessful search for Christ. 46 Ambrose is less concerned with the varying interpretation of the cloak (from the cover of the body or bodily action to philosophical or worldly wisdom) than with what is left after the undressing: “the naked simplicity of the mind.” Only thus the human being is able to find God.47 The composition of the wall of heavenly Jerusalem is important. The names of the patriarchs are on the opened gates, those of the apostles on the walls. The apostles are also the foundation of the city, held together by 41

Ambrose, Virgt. 13.77. Ambrose, Virgt. 10.58. 43 Ambrose, Virgt. 9.53. 44 Cf. Virg., where “apostle” is referred to eight times: seven references introduce biblical texts by Paul, and one mentions the basilica of Saint Peter in Rome. 45 Ambrose gives a somewhat different elaboration of this passage in De Isaac (391) 6.53b-56. Cf. Virg. 1.5.22: virgo Hierusalem (Jer 18:13-14) interpreted as the Church. 46 Ambrose, Virgt. 13.84. 47 Ambrose, Virgt. 14.88 (body). 14.92: nuda mentis simplicitas, the cloak of bodily action and philosophical and worldly wisdom is removed by the watchmen as precondition to search and see God. Cf. Virgt. 8.48: The cloak of wisdom worn by Christ, the apostles, and the virgins has a positive connotation. The watchmen of the wall would take away this cloak, if the virgin did not follow the Church. 42

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Christ, its cornerstone.48 It is gradually revealed that the twelve angels at the open gates (Rv 21:12) are the watchmen of the wall (Sg 5:7) of heavenly Jerusalem. 49 Christ as cornerstone (Eph 2:20) introduces the topic of integration into heavenly Jerusalem. The virgins have already been told that their uncommon chastity qualifies them for entrance.50 Not only the virgins, however, but also the righteous with an immaculate chastity of soul can become “fellow citizens of the saints and members of the household of God.”51 Existence within heavenly Jerusalem is described as “entered by faith and precious acts, clarified by the light of the patriarchs, founded on the apostles, living among the angels.”52 And yet, within the enclosure of this city, the search for Christ continues. We only can reach this city spiritually and temporarily, but in the end this luminous city will descend to us.53 Even the young who roam the public places, if incessantly in search of Christ, might have a chance.54 Because the city of God might spill out through the open gates, there might be a judge who administers justice according to God’s law at the forum, and the participants of the Christian communal meal might be gathered in the

48 Ambrose, Virgt. 14.87. Note that the role of apostles is more important than in Rv 21:12,14. The apostles as foundation also appear in Eph 2:20, from which Christ as cornerstone is borrowed. 49 Ambrose, Virgt. 14.85-87 mentions the watchmen as prelude to introduce the theme of the watchmen’s angelic character in 88-92: heavenly city (85) and its walls (86-87). Virgt. 14.88: “How then, are those watchmen who take away the cloak of the chaste soul angels?” 14.89: “He who looks for Christ in his bedroom” or at public places, or wherever, “could encounter the angels guarding the city of God.” 14.90: the heavenly nature of the watchmen. 14.91: angels, i.e., the unmentioned watchmen; the wounding of the arrived person. 14.92: the watchmen, after the wounding, take away the cloak. 50 Ambrose, Virgt. 14.85. Rv 21:27: nothing impure enters the heavenly city. Cf. Exh. 5.28: “Virgin is the Church . . . Virgin is the daughter of Zion. Virgin is the city of heavenly Jerusalem, in which nothing ordinary, nothing impure enters.” 51 Ambrose, Virgt. 14.87: “Ergo vos, sanctae virgines, et quicumque iusti estis et immaculatam animae geritis castitatem, cives sanctorum estis et domestici dei” (Eph 2:19). 52 Ambrose, Virgt. 14.87: “Sed tunc nobilitatem istam patriae possidebitis si Christum intra civitatis huius saepta quaeratis, ingressi per fidem actusque pretiosos, patriarcharum clarificati lumine, fundati super apostolos, versantes inter angelos.” 53 Ambrose, Virgt. 14.86. Cf. Virgt. 10.59: Our feet standing in the gates (Ambrose: atrium) of Jerusalem in Ps 122:2 must refer to the feet of the soul, because the bodily feet of the human being could not reach heaven. 54 Ambrose, Virgt. 14.88. Yet, the Church has the monopoly on wisdom.

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streets.55 From the heavenly nature of these watchmen we meet, we come to understand the heavenly city.56 Not only the virgin, but everyone should follow Christ.57 This rare openness of the Church to the world illustrates once more that in Virgt. Ambrose reaches out to more groups than the ideal virgins with which to populate his Church.

Bishop Ambrose’s apostolic efficacy in Virgt. 16.105-20.13558 While the main topic of Virgt. is the search for Christ by the virgin or the soul, Ambrose finishes this treatise with a reflection on the Christian community or the Church. His role as bishop in the construction of this community comes more into the open in this passage. Of the metaphorical representations of the three entities mentioned in Virgt. 18.119 (soul, virgin and Church), we will focus on the one for the community, the ship: “(T)he ship on which the apostles sail and Peter fishes is no ordinary ship, which is piloted into deep water, that is separated from the unbelievers.” 59 Ambrose explains that this ship chosen by Christ to teach the masses (Lk 5:3-4) is the Church, “which sails well in this world with the sail attached to the Lord’s cross, blown full by the Holy Spirit.” 60 Peter, earlier characterized as fundamental for the Church in his doctrinal authority,61 is ordered to fish by 55

Ambrose, Virgt. 14.89-90. Cf. 8.46, where Christ solely can be found in the Church, not in public places. 56 Ambrose, Virgt. 14.90: “Quin etiam ex caelesti custodum natura caelestem intellegere possumus civitatem.” Who looks for Christ reaches the angels. Ambrose ascribes angelic qualities to Christians functioning in worldly functions according to Christian ethics. 57 Ambrose, Virgt. 15.93; 14.86. 58 This passage goes back to a sermon held during the festival of Saint Peter and Saint Paul (Virgt. 16.105-106; 19.125-126; 20.131), in which Ambrose accompanied by his fellow bishop Eusebius of Bologna (20.130) consecrated virgins. 59 Ambrose, Virgt. 18.119: Christ as the driver of the chariot of the individual righteous soul (15.94-97; 17.108-18.118), or as climbing the virgin’s mountain (cf. 9.49) or embarking on the ship of the Church. Cf. Virgt. 17.107: the virgin is compared to an anchored ship, undisturbed by the worldly waves. 60 Ambrose, Virgt. 18.119: “navem in qua aut apostoli navigant aut piscatur Petrus; nec enim vilis est navis quae ducitur in altum, hoc est ab incredulis separatur. Cur enim navis eligitur in qua Christus sedeat, turba doceatur, nisi quia navis ecclesia est, quae pleno dominicae crucis velo sancti spiritus flatu in hoc bene navigat mundo?” 61 Ambrose, Virgt. 16.105: “Petrus . . . in quo esset ecclesiae firmamentum et magisterium disciplinae.”

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means of nets or a hook from this ship. In Mt 17:24-27, at Christ’s instigation, Peter uses a hook to catch a fish in whose mouth is found a coin to pay the tax owed. Ambrose links this text to Christ’s prediction that Peter will be a fisher of men (Lk 5:10). Peter’s spiritual fishing by the hook of his teaching (doctrinae hamus) reels Stephen as the first martyr out of the world.62 Stephen’s martyrdom is connected to Mt 17:27 in that the treasure in his mouth was his preaching about Christ, but Stephen is also described as containing census Christi inside his body, which might imply that Christ asks something in return for the wealth given.63 This sacrifice of oneself in a martyr’s death is called the treasure of the Church. Peter, the fishing bishop, had caught Stephen in the ecclesiastical function of “minister of the altar” or deacon. 64 Ambrose distinguishes being caught by a hook from being caught by nets. The hook indicates the elected individual, the martyr, while the nets are meant for the masses. Ambrose’s wish to swallow the hook refers to both his election as bishop and his wished-for martyrdom.65 While in Virg. virgins are depicted as able to reimburse the debt owed to 62

Ambrose, Virgt. 18.120. Hilary of Poitiers used doctrinae hamus (Comm. Mt. 17.13) as the hook of teaching by which Peter as fisher of men drew the first martyr after Christ out of the world. Cf. Hilary Comm. Mt. 17.12: fish’s os—viscera and Ambrose, Virgt. 18.120: Stephen’s interiores—os. Jean Doignon, Hilaire de Poitiers, Sur Matthieu, Chap. 14-33, Sources Chrétiennes 258 (Paris : Éditions du Cerf, 1979). Hervé Savon, Saint Ambroise devant l’exégèse de Philon le juif, vol. 1 (Paris: Études augustiniennes, 1977), 273-83, about catching by nets or hook indicates that our passage is a rare positively meant example of catching by hook (281). Agnès Bastit-Kalinowska, “L’Impôt et le poisson. Une lecture patristique de la péricope de Matthieu 17, 24-27,” in Chartae Caritatis: Études de patristique et d’antiquité tardive en hommage à Yves-Marie Duval, ed. Benoit Gain, Pierre Jay, and Gerard Nauroy (Paris: Études augustiniennes, 2004), 145-56; specifically, 15153 about how Cyril of Alexandria, Origen, and Zeno of Verona use this passage. 63 Ambrose, Virgt. 18.120. Christi in census Christi also could be interpreted as a genitive explicativus: Christ is the wealth. Confessing Christ as the treasure in Stephen’s mouth easily changes into “our” appropriation of the “Word of God,” i.e., Christ as our treasure. Cf. 19.125: Peter and Paul preach fides Christi from the inner treasury of their heart (ex intimo thesauro cordis). 64 Peter as main character of our pericope represents the twelve apostles and the disciples who had chosen Stephen as one of seven disciples from the Hellenistic Jews for organizational tasks under this group (Acts 6:1-6). 65 Ambrose, Virgt. 18.120: “Oh, if only I would be allowed to swallow that hook which would scorch my mouth and would give me salvation by a light wound.” (O si mihi liceret illum hamum vorare, qui adureret os meum et levi daret salutem vulnere.) Such a personal sigh with o si only appears once in Ambrose’s virginity treatises. An unfulfilled personal wish with utinam + subjunctive past tense is more common, e.g., Virgt. 5.25-26; Virg. 1.1.2-3.

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Christ for his death at the cross in blood, in Virgt. they are exhorted to live a life worthy of Christ’s sacrifice.66 Now it is the bishop who is prepared to shed his blood on behalf of the community. The virgins are exhorted to enter into the apostles’ net of spiritual wisdom and teaching (doctrina), the net of the kingdom of heavens (Mt 13:47), let out on God’s authority.67 Ambrose ranges the virgins amongst the masses. By classifying himself as worth belonging to the category caught by the hook, he places himself above the virginal ordo. Both hook and nets are characterized by doctrina. Ambrose continues with an exegesis of pushing out the boat into the deep water in order to catch more fish in Lk 5:4. He spiritualizes his initial explanation of a separation from the unbelievers on the mainland (18.119): the depth of the water is explained as the belief in Christ planted in the human heart, a depth not reached by the synagogue.68 The synagogue, represented by Peter before his conversion, is associated with night, the Church with day. Peter and Paul now are day and proclaim day. 69 Daily, Peter reenacts this scene of deep fishing in his continuing moral involvement in the ecclesiastical community. So does Paul. 70 Ambrose wants his community to pray for his own apostolic, spiritual fishing. He hopes for as abundant a catch, with God’s help, as Peter had in Lk 5:6-7. The population targeted, however, is different. While Peter aimed at converts in general, Ambrose fishes especially for virgins.71 Many churches (identified with the ships in Lk 5:7) already are crowded by virgins and God has sent an expert in this kind of fishing, the bishop of Bologna, to assist in recruitment.72 Peter and Paul will rejuvenate (vivificare) the troop of virgins Ambrose caught in the nets of their argument (disputatio).73 Ambrose then describes how Peter benefited from his decision to follow Christ. Peter’s 66

Ambrose, Virgt. 19.126-129; 1 Pt 1 :18-19. Ambrose, Virgt. 19.121. Gérard Nauroy, Exégèse et création littéraire chez Ambroise de Milan : l’exemple du De Ioseph patriarcha (Paris: Études augustiniennes, 2007), 161-62, explains Virgt. 18.120 as a combination of the eschatological fishing and selection in Mt 13:47-50 and Mt 17:27. 68 Ambrose, Virgt. 19.122-125. 69 Ambrose, Virgt. 19.125. Cf. Virgt. 14.85-87: heavenly Jerusalem’s eternal light. 70 Ambrose, Virgt. 19.126. 71 Ambrose, Virgt. 20.130: “immaculata plebs”; bishop of Bologna suited to this kind of fishing (“aptus ad hoc piscandi genus”); 20.131: the virginal troop (agmen) is collected in apostolic nets. 72 Ambrose, Virgt. 20.130. In this pericope Ambrose compares himself implicitly to Peter by his wish that Lk 5:4 will be applicable to him too. In 20.131, he is more explicit: “We do not use our nets, but those of the apostles.” 73 Ambrose, Virgt. 20.131. 67

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humble background demonstrates that the elevation of his life was not due to his own merits, but that it proves Christ worked through him.74 In the last two pericopes of this treatise, Ambrose discusses the transfiguration scene from Mt 17:1-8. The two fishers, referring to Peter and John, face the bringer and executor of the law, Moses and Elijah, by whom Christ is flanked. 75 The main characters in this final part are Peter and Moses. 76 Moses here represents the ultimate example of heavenly ascent.77 Peter did not need to ascend to heaven, because he perceived God in the human body of the Son of God.78 Having observed that Moses already knew that God as creator implied both Father and Son, Ambrose cryptically adds “I do not yet know.” Ambrose seems to acknowledge that he did not yet have the familiarity with God that Moses had nor the disregard for the world he ascribes to Peter.79 In this passage, Ambrose identifies with Peter as a fishing bishop, though he aims to catch virgins rather than converts in his episcopal, doctrinal nets. The metaphor of the hook has the dual association of election

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Ambrose, Virgt. 20.132-133. Ambrose, Virgt. 20.134. 76 This pericope starts at the end of 20.133, where the one “who has not been taught the law, but speaks about what is above the law,” as he has received it from the ultimate Lawgiver refers to Peter. The pericope and treatise end with that God’s grace works in different virtues: “In him (ille), because he has described the world, in that one (iste), because he has disregarded the world (ignoravit).” Ille refers to Moses, iste to Peter. From the citation of Jn 1:1 in 20.134, I do not conclude an allusion to the apostle John, cf. Virg. 1.3.11. In Virg. 1.3.12, Elijah’s virginity is rewarded: he is taken up to heaven (2 Kgs 2:11) and he appears with Christ at the transfiguration scene. He is called a precursor of Christ’s Second Coming. 77 Cf. Savon, Saint Ambroise, 110-118: Ambrose was influenced by Philo in his high esteem for Moses. In his De Cain et Abel (1.2.7-9), Ambrose struggles with Moses’ semi-divine status in comparison to Christ, who in the end is superior to Moses. The transfiguration scene serves as a proof text (115), CSEL 32.1 78 Ambrose, Virgt. 20.134. Gori, SAEMO 14, 2:107, n. 247, interprets this phrase as referring to Christ’s divinized body. But cf. Virg. 1.3.11: “(T)he Word became flesh in order that the flesh would become God (verbum caro factum est, ut caro fieret deus),” which could refer to human flesh in general. From Virgt. 20.135, Peter’s superiority over Moses might be concluded: “after the law the people has gone astray, after the gospel the people have come to believe.” 79 Ambrose, Virgt. 20.135: “Et Moses quidem cum dicit: ‘Et dixit deus, et fecit deus,’ patrem filiumque signavit: sed ille non ignorabat, ego adhuc ignorabam.” Also according to Gori, SAEMO 14, 2:107, n. 249, Ambrose’s remark about himself comes as a surprise. He calls the whole passage incoherent and hard to grasp (n. 250). Disregard for the world: Vrgt. 17.110 (apostles); Virg. 1.8.52 (virgins). 75

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as bishop and potential martyrdom. Ambrose thus places himself above the virgins.

The apostles and the virgins at Christ’s grave in Virgt. 3.14-4.23 In Virgt. 17.110, Ambrose observes that we cannot imitate God and so our best option is to imitate the apostles in their estrangement from the world.80 The apostles are aligned with “us,” the ecclesiastical community. Not as partners, but as students they followed Christ, and the virgin is exhorted to be a student and follower of Christ too.81 The virgin here figures once more as the prototypical Christian, for whom Christ will pray as much as he prays for the apostles. The unity that Christ wants for the Church in Jn 17:21, Ambrose interprets as unity in virtues, by which both the Church and the individual soul are able to ascend.82 Virginity as the preeminent virtue in Virg. is replaced by the supreme transcendent virtue of justice within every righteous soul’s reach in Virgt.83 The equality between virgins and apostles suggested in Virgt. 17.110 is disqualified in the inserted passage 3.14-4.23.84 Ambrose’s interpretation of the gospel narratives about the resurrection expresses themes relevant to the community as a whole: spiritual integrity, the destructive role of doubt, and the possibility of conversion. But, there is more to this passage. At the beginning of Virgt. 3.14-4.23, Ambrose expresses the message of the reading of that day as: the virgins deserved to see Christ’s resurrection before the apostles.85 His conclusion at the end, however, is the alignment of the bishop with the apostles and his control over the virginal ordo. Let us have a look at his exposition. He names the gospels’ women at Christ’s 80 Cf. Virg. 1.8.52: the virgins succeeded in this alienation. Both texts go back to Jn 17:14. 81 Ambrose, Virgt. 17.110: “apostoli non quasi consortes sed quasi discipuli sequendo dominum ... Et tu esto Christi discipula, Christi aemula”. Note the chiastic positioned consortes – aemula (wife - female rival in love). 82 Ambrose, Virgt. 17.110. 83 Ambrose, Virg. 1.3.10: “amor integritatis ... principalis est virtus ;" cf. Virgt. 6.29: “non mediocris ..virtutis.” Virgt. 18.115: justice. 84 Ambrose, Virgt. 3.13 is continued in 5.24. The insertion of 3.14-4.24a at this location might be explained by the previous connection between the disapproved crying of Jephthah’s daughter over her virginity and her lack of faith. 85 Ambrose, Virgt. 3.14: “Considerate quia virgines prae apostolis resurrectionem domini videre meruerunt. Certe hoc docuit hodierna quae decursa est lectio”. The reading of Jn 20 is most probable.

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grave Mary and Mary Magdalene and qualifies them as virgins.86 Ambrose thus strongly associates the Mary who “was the first to see and believe,” with Christ’s mother. She understood that Christ did not need a grave, because he had overcome death.87 The difference in reaction between the two virgins is the crux to Ambrose’s interpretation: Mary believes, but Mary Magdalene is still in doubt.88 Her doubt would explain why she was not yet able to touch Christ (Jn 20:17).89 In Jn 20:11 Mary Magdalene stood crying outside the grave. Ambrose interprets both her crying and her position outside the grave as lack of faith. He opposes her to Peter and John, who ran, entered the grave, did not cry, and returned jubilant.90 Even the sight of the angels in the grave did not bring about faith in Mary Magdalene! Then Ambrose clarifies the angels’ words to Mary Magdalene, which are later repeated and thus authorized by Christ: “Woman, why do you cry? Whom are you looking for?”91 Christ’s qualification of Mary Magdalene as “woman” is connected to her crying and the distinction virgin/woman is raised to a spiritual level and thus becomes more relevant to the community in general. 92 The virgin believes, the woman hesitates, but each could develop into a perfected man (vir perfectus) (Eph 4:13) by faith. Ambrose clearly expresses the main theme of Virgt. here: “Believe and you will see [Christ]. Christ is present and he is never wanting to those who look for 86 Women (Mk 16:8; Mt 28:5,8; Lk 24:1,11) entered the grave (Mk 16:5; Lk 24:3). Ambrose’s description of the women as Mary and Mary Magdalene is closest to Mt 28:1: Mary Magdalene and “the other Mary.” In Matthew’s version, the angel’s message takes away the necessity to enter the grave. In Jn 20, Mary Magdalene is the woman (20:15) who does not enter the grave, while Peter and John had entered the grave (20:6, 8). 87 Ambrose, Virgt. 3.14. Also 4.15: “Illa . . . tangit Christum quae fide tangit” refers to Christ’s mother. Ambrose’s exegesis is flexible: e.g., in Jn 20:8, it was John who “saw and believed.” 88 Ambrose, Virgt. 3.14; 4.20. Cf. Lk 24:11,38; Mk 16:11.13: the apostles are the ones who doubt. 89 Ambrose, Virgt. 4.15. 90 Ambrose, Virgt. 4.16: Mary Magdalene cries, because she did not see Christ’s body and thought it was gone; 4.17: the woman cries, because she is stuck in mortal conditions. Cf. Jn 20:3-10 (Peter and John’s race to the grave); Mt 28:8 (women return from the grave afraid but filled with joy). 91 Ambrose, Virgt. 4.16. Jn 20:13: angels ask why Magdalene cries 20:15: Jesus asks her the same question and adds whom she is looking for. 92 Virgt. 4.15: virginity concerns both body and mind (mens). 4.20: “When one does not believe, one is a woman; when one starts to be converted, one is called Mary, that is one receives the name of her who brought forth Christ; for it is the soul which spiritually brings forth Christ.”

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him.” 93 When Ambrose comes to the last question—who is sought—he transcends the level of the narrative in a short exposition on Christology. The woman Magdalene errs when she thinks Christ would not be able to rise from the dead by his own power. Ambrose actualizes the narrative when he observes that no one can take Christ away from his tomb or from his virgin’s heart or the hidden part of the pious mind.94 Ambrose combines Christ addressing Mary Magdalene by her name “Mary” (Jn 20:16) with her turning around (Jn 20:16) to him and allegorizes convertere. Mary refers to her renewal: she becomes Christ-bearing in a spiritual sense. Her reaction— she calls Christ “master”—is the start of conversion in progress. Attempts at improvement do not yet suffice to touch Christ (Jn 20:17).95 In the closure of this pericope, Ambrose does not emphasize Christ’s sending the virgin to the apostles. The virgin’s entrance without tears implies her surrender to the monopoly of theological interpretation by bishops as modern successors of the apostles. The virgin delivers the message of Christ’s ascension to “my father and your father, my God and your God” (Jn 20:17), but she should leave the interpretation of that text to “the elected and most assiduous bishops,” “the more perfected ones.” Addressing the female messenger as “woman,” Ambrose downgrades the angelic virgin of Virg. to a member of the ecclesiastical community in which God is at work. Ambrose refers to that community as “us” and so also includes the bishop in it.96 Rereading this passage, one finds that the pieces fit better together with this interpretation. Ambrose’s mention of the differences between the details of the gospel narratives about the resurrection, his distinction between literal and spiritual senses of scripture (Virgt. 3.14), his Christological statements (4.18-19, 22-23), all support his doctrinal authority over all groups within the Church. Though virgins

93 Vrgt. 4.17: “mulier, quae nutabat, quia iam virgo crediderat. Ploras, quia non vides Christum: crede, et videbis. Adest Christus, nec umquam iis a quibus quaeritur deest.” 94 Ambrose, Virgt. 4.18-19. 95 Ambrose, Virgt. 4.20-22. 96 Ambrose, Virgt. 4.23: “Go to my brothers. What else would that mean than don’t cry outside anymore? Go to the elected and most assiduous bishops (ad electos et observantissimos sacerdotes) and tell them: (citation Jn 20:17b). What else would that mean than do not speculate about this, woman? Surely ask the more perfect ones (perfectiores), they will tell you the difference between my Father and your Father.” Cf. 18.120: Peter is Dei perfectior.

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remain closest to Christ, 97 the awareness that virginity requires spiritual guidance makes emulation of it by the rest of the community easier.

Conclusion and evaluation From the comparison of Virgt. with the earlier Virg. Ambrose’s episcopal self-assertion has become more explicit and the bishop has replaced the virginal ordo at the highest layer within the Church. Furthermore, this comparison shows that this new situation required other metaphors for the Church, and that these three aspects (virgin, bishop, Church) are linked. In Virg. Ambrose elevates the virginal ordo by its identification with the supernatural virtue of virginity and the Church, which is allegorized as virgin mother. Also, the virgins are said to partake in the angelic status during this life. Qualifying himself as an inexperienced bishop Ambrose positions himself almost amongst the community, in need of spiritual progress by virginity. He rather implicitly bases his episcopal authority on his genetically virginal disposition and on God’s endorsement of his episcopal election. The difference between his initially latent episcopal authority in Virg. and his later established authority in Virgt. Ambrose nicely expresses by the metaphor of Aaron’s budding and fruiting rod. The nuts of the rod attest to God’s approval for Ambrose’s episcopal efforts. The nuts are connected to the garden as metaphor for the Church. While in Virg. the bees are virgins and the honey is based on virginal virtuous behavior, in Virgt. the bee is the bishop and the produce is gathered from virtues of Christians of different levels of spiritual development. This inclusive ecclesiastical community returns in heavenly Jerusalem as the metaphor for the Church. The virgins are its priority citizens, the apostles are its main builders. The openness of its gates comes as a surprise. The identification of the bishop with the apostles becomes explicit in the last two passages studied. The Church is in the first passage allegorized as the ship from which Peter fishes by hook and by nets. On the one hand, Ambrose wants to be caught by Peter’s hook, which stands for his episcopal election and coveted martyrdom. In Virgt. Ambrose strives for the position of exemplary martyr, held by the virgin in Virg. On the other hand, he identifies with Peter in his fishing by nets. The virgins are exhorted to enter 97 Ambrose, Virgt. 12.68: “And you, soul, one of the populace, one of the common people (Christ is not impressed by the distinctions of worldly honors), definitely you one of the virgins, who illuminates the grace of your body by the brilliance of your mind (you are closer to him in comparison to the Church) (propior es quae ecclesiae compararis).”

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the nets with the masses. Ambrose gradually transforms Peter’s fishing of converts by nets to his own fishing of virgins by nets. As fisher, Ambrose elevates himself above the fishes; i.e., virgins. Both hook and nets represent apostolic doctrine. As spokesman of the Church, Ambrose declares he controls virginal life in various ways in Virgt. His association of the bishop with the Church reminds one of that of the virgin with the Church in Virg. His claim to doctrinal authority as successor of the apostles manifests itself best in the passage inserted in Virgt. about the virgins and the apostles at Christ’s grave. The virgin Mary Magdalene is outrun by the apostles to the entrance of the grave. Contrary to the apostles, her conversion comes about very slowly. Ambrose preserves the biblical reporting of the resurrection to the apostles by the virgin. He then actualizes the biblical scene: the virgin should leave the doctrinal interpretation to the bishop. The bishop is on an equal footing to the apostles, the virgins depend with the rest of the ecclesiastical community on his authority for their spiritual growth.

CHAPTER FOUR AMBROSE, MARTYRS, AND LITURGY MONS. FRANCESCO BRASCHI

Foreword The attitude of Ambrose toward the martyrs has long been investigated by scholars and historians. Their research has helped to outline the facts as well as to enlighten their political and legal background. 1 Perhaps the most significant event related to this topic was the finding of the bodies of the martyrs Gervasius and Protasius, which happened in Milan in June 386. This closely followed the so-called “Fight for the Basilicas,” which had taken place the same year in the days of the Holy Week.2 In order to provide the court-based homoian community in Milan with a temple for celebrating Easter services, Emperor Valentinian II had decided to seize the Basilica Nova, i.e., the main church, habitually used by Ambrose himself. Then, after an interlocutory denial by the Bishop, the emperor downgraded his request to the Basilica Portiana. The subsequent refusal by Ambrose and the turbulence caused by the bishop’s supporters (who occupied the church buildings in order to avoid their use by non-Nicene worshippers) led to a 1

See on this subject: G. Visonà, “Sterilem martyribus ecclesiam Mediolanensem: Ambrogio e la Chiesa milanese preambrosiana” in Milano e la Chiesa di Milano prima di Ambrogio, ed. Raffaele Passarella, Studia Ambrosiana 11 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 2018), 3-24. In this paper you can find the most recent and relevant bibliography on this subject, and a well-balanced position about the political and religious meanings of the finding of Gervasius and Protasius’ relics. 2 About the so-called “Fight for the Basilicas” see (with comprehensive and updated bibliography): G. Visonà, “Topografia del conflitto ariano: Ambrogio e la Basilica Porziana,” in Ambrogio e l’Arianesimo, ed. Raffaele Passarella, Studia Ambrosiana 7 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 2013), 113-45. The article, recalling the status quo of the various opinions of the scholars about this subject, re-shapes the historical, literary, and archaeological evidence, offering a convincing identification of the Basilica Portiana with the Basilica Sancti Victoris ad corpus.

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five-day-long dramatic confrontation between the consistorium (i.e., the Emperor’s inner council) and the bishop. Finally, he was able to witness the Homoians’ withdrawal and the forfeiture of any request by the Court. This was not accepted, nevertheless, as the end of the confrontation since Bishop Auxentius and Empress Justina, still largely influencing the Emperor’s court and who desired revenge, made the atmosphere of Milan a difficult one for Ambrose to live in. Given this framework, the discovery of the relics of Gervasius and Protasius, about two months later, surely had the effect of strengthening Ambrose’s position and to raise popular estimation of him, as the two martyrs appeared to be the first ones who had not been translated to Milan from elsewhere—as had happened with Nabor and Felix—but had witnessed their faith to the point of blood shedding in Milan itself, thus enhancing and ennobling the local Christian community. Then Ambrose was able to exploit his stronger and more secure position while gaining the favor of the court and the Emperor when he—as a gesture of goodwill and reconciliation— numbered them among the ones who could benefit from the heavenly patronage granted by the newly discovered martyrs. The martyrs’ closeness to the Nicaean faith was witnessed by those who were healed of torments by the contact with the martyrs’ bodies. It is not my intention to repeat the long story of the conflict between Ambrose and Emperor Valentinian (supported and prompted by his mother Justina). I just want to introduce the point of view and the purpose of my paper by recalling a brief summary of the main facts related to martyrdom in Ambrose’s aim to “shape” the faith of the Church in Milan, The mutual connection between faith and politics during Ambrose’s episcopacy has long been studied by scholars, reaching an extreme position in the description provided by H. von Campenhausen of Ambrose as a “Kirchenpolitiker,” 3 to which, even now, many others have shown their allegiance. It is not my goal either to minimize or to underestimate the value of such a field of research so firmly related to the possibility of understanding better Ambrose’s image and historical background. Nevertheless, while reading such récits of the above mentioned finding of Gervasius and Protasius like the one, for instance, by Neil McLynn, I am persuaded more and more that we do need to introduce other perspectives

3 Ambrosius als Kirchenpolitiker is the title of a book published (Berlin: W. de Gruyter) by H. Von Campenhausen in 1926, whose depiction of Ambrose has long been an opinio communis among the scholars. But see the revision of such a definition offered by C. Markschies, “Ambrogio teologo trinitario,” La Scuola Cattolica 125 (1997), 741-62.

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and contributions, in order to shed light on all sides of such a complicated subject. The long and interesting account of the episode of June 386 that we find in McLynn’s famous 1994 book,4 indeed, convincingly indicates the plot of different interests, suspicions, and more or less temporary alliances involved in the discovery of the two saints. But when we look for a more comprehensive evaluation of the whole matter, covering also its religious and theological side, we are far from satisfied with McLynn’s statements. On the one side, he repeatedly writes that the discovery of the martyrs was a “self-imposed task” containing “a significant element of bluff,” performed by Ambrose who “had gambled, and won.”5 Again, according to McLynn, “The outstanding feature of the episode is his [i.e., Ambrose’s] supremely confident management of events” and “words like calculation and manipulation are much too cold: for all the statuesque calm of his demeanor, Ambrose was holding a wolf by the ears.” On the other hand, he accepts that Ambrose’s “instincts probably played a greater part than any calculation.”6 Nevertheless, it remains unexplained why Ambrose’s enemies did not succeed in disproving the miracles (not only exorcisms, but also the healing of a blind man!) that had followed the discovery. Thus, the whole episode cannot be intended only as a screenplay written and performed by the bishop. In addition, Giuseppe Visonà, in his excellent 2018 essay,7 states that “the inventio (finding) of Gervasius and Protasius has to be intended as a clear example of the ‘creation of a tradition,’ whose meaning is to show an unquestionable case of ‘power representation.’”8 But the same author acknowledges that the cult of the martyrs, which appears to be the focus in finding of Gervasius and Protasius, was “one of the leading guidelines of Ambrose’s pastoral strategy” to implement his “intense and absolutely substantial connection with the congregation” of the believers.9

4 N. McLynn, Ambrose of Milan. Church and Court in a Christian Capital (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 209-19. 5 McLynn, Ambrose of Milan, 211, 212, and 217 respectively. 6 McLynn, Ambrose of Milan, 216. 7 Visonà, “Sterilem,” 3-24. 8 Visonà, “Sterilem,” 10: “...l’inventio di Gervasio e Protasio si impone come chiarissimo esempio di ‘invenzione di una tradizione’ e nel contempo si propone come forma lampante di ‘rappresentazione del potere.’” 9 See G. Visonà, “Sterilem,” 9: “Vorremmo... soffermarci più dettagliatamente sul momento topico in cui Ambrogio ha esaltato al massimo le prerogative... cioè il legame intenso ed estremamente concreto con il popolo, per di più associate ad uno degli assi portanti della sua strategia pastorale, vale a dire il culto dei martiri”.

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The religious meaning of the finding of the Martyrs I would like to draw attention to a topic that, in my opinion, has been and even now is widely underestimated; i.e., the religious meaning of the finding of Gervasius and Protasius. The significance of this aspect goes far beyond the political circumstances, which, however important, affected only the moment of the discovery. It even goes beyond the contemporary victory over the “homoian imperial community” obtained by Ambrose after the revelation of the martyrs’ heavenly power. By “religious meaning,” I mean the teachings exposed by Ambrose and related with the virtues of the martyrs in order to raise the level of Christian commitment and to strengthen the faith experience of his listeners.10 The first quotations are taken from Epistle 77 (Maur. 22),11 written in 386 to his sister Marcellina in order to inform her about the finding of Gervasius and Protasius. After describing how the remains of the martyrs were found, Ambrose quotes quite literally two sermons he delivered to the faithful on the day following the finding and on the day after, when the relics were deposed in the Basilica Martyrum. In the introduction to the first speech, he says: When I considered in what overflowing and unprecedented numbers you were gathered together, and thought on the gifts of Divine Grace which shone forth in the holy martyrs, I felt myself, I confess, unequal to this task, and thought it impossible that I could find language to express that which we can hardly conceive in mind or endure with our eyes. But when the reading of the regular Lessons of Holy Scripture began, the Holy Spirit, Who spoke by the Prophets, granted us grace to speak somewhat worthily of this great and expectant assembly, and of the merits of the holy martyrs . . . .12

10 Having in mind “the teachings exposed by Ambrose,” we will not examine the other account of the finding of the two martyrs (BHL 3514), written maybe not much later than bishop’s time, that we find in PL 17:821-25 in a small collection of letters doubtfully assigned to Ambrose. On this text, see M. Petoletti, “Nequimus esse martyres, sed repperimus martyres. Le reliquie di Ambrogio, Protaso e Gervaso nelle fonti antiche e medievali,” in Apparuit Thesaurus Ambrosius. Le reliquie di Sant’Ambrogio e dei martiri Gervaso e Protaso tra storia, scienza e fede, ed. Carlo Faccendini and Carlo Capponi (Cinisello Balsamo: Silvana Editoriale, 2019), 20215. 11 For the original text see: Sant’Ambrogio: Discorsi e Lettere II, SAEMO 21 Lettere (70-77), ed. G. Banterle (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 1988), 154-67. 12 Ambrose, Ep. 77.3. (English translation is mine.)

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Together with the usual captatio benevolentiae, we can see how Ambrose stresses that it was the Holy Spirit who helped him to find the proper words to say to a crowd, whose measure he could not anticipate, “when the reading of the regular lessons of Holy Scripture began.” And a few words later he repeats that the reading of Psalm 18 (“The heavens declare the glory of God”) was due to “the coincidence of the lesson being read today”. Even if we can think of Ambrose shaping his interpretation of the Scripture in order to adapt it to the current events, we should admit that, in the case of a pre-arranged discovery of martyrs, he could have selected readings more suitable to his goals. Moreover, it is a point of doctrine, frequently repeated by Ambrose, that Christ himself speaks to his flock when the Holy Scripture is read during Church services.13 The explanation of Psalm 18, indeed, points out how the life of the martyrs should be first of all regarded as a heavenly one, because of their endless quest for virtue: For it was not worldly snares, but the favor of the Divine operation, which raised them to the firmament of the most sacred Passion, and long beforehand by the evidence of their conversation and virtues bore this testimony of them, that they remained steadfast against the slippery wiles of this world.14

In the following passage the martyrs are compared to Paul, to John and James, to Christ, as they all “were heavens,” because they told the glory of God “not by any mere transient utterance but from their inmost heart, continuing constant in their confession, persevering in their testimony.”15 Therefore, the second feature of martyrs is that they are able to reveal the presence and the action of God in present time: through them, Ambrose says, God opens our eyes, so that we “behold the glory of the Lord, which as to the passion of the martyrs is past, as to His operation is present.”16 The result of this is such a strong and full experience of God’s help through the martyrs, that it can even change the usual attitude toward one’s enemies, so that the protection of those saints can be invoked upon them, and not only upon friends.17 13

See T. Graumann, Christus interpres. Die Einheit von Auslegung und Verkündigung in der Lukaserklärung des Ambrosius von Mailand (Berlin-New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1994), especially 417-26. 14 Ambrose, Ep. 77.4. 15 Ambrose, Ep. 77.6. 16 Ambrose, Ep. 77.11. 17 Such a prayer is typical of the Christian behavior, following the example and the teachings of Christ himself (see Mt 5:44 and Lk 23:34).

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Chapter Four These are the defenders whom I desire, these are my soldiers, not the world's soldiers, but Christ's. I fear no odium on account of these; their patronage is sure in proportion to its power. Nay, I desire their protection for the very men who grudge them to me. Let them come then and see my body-guard: I deny not that I am surrounded by such weapons as these. Some put their trust in chariots and some in horses, but we will magnify ourselves in the Name of the Lord our God.18

Martyrdom and persecution as a positive feature for Christian life This complete change of perspective toward Ambrose’s enemies has been judged by McLynn as fictitious and opportunistic, inspired only by the desire for a further exploitation of the privileged position obtained following the finding of the martyrs and the enormous mobilization of his supporters.19 It may represent, however, the distinctive mark of the new ability granted to believers to judge the circumstances they live in, in order to shape their existence and minds according to the Gospel. Indeed, a few years after the finding of Gervasius and Protasius, we have another interesting account of the importance of that event in two passages of the Exposition on Psalm 118 (whose composition date is set at either 390 or 396).20 In the sixth homily of the series, given by Ambrose on the yearly occurrence of the same day of the finding of the two saints, we read: Good was today’s reading: Behold, I send you as lambs among wolves. Indeed, today we celebrate the feast of the martyrs . . . like good snakes, they laid down the remains of the flesh, after defeating the bitterness of winter temptations. Then they were renewed by the Grace of the Holy Spirit and shone in front of the world, like lambs among wolves. Wolves are the persecutors. Wolves are all the heretics: they cannot teach but are good at yowling. By means of Christ’s intervention, even the wolf has totally changed . . . so it happened with the Apostle Paul: now he doesn’t endanger Christ’s sheepfold anymore, but defends and looks after it. It’s pleasant to have to do with such a wolf: thanks to him, we can now feel safe among wolves. No

18

Ambrose, Ep. 77.10. See McLynn. Ambrose of Milan, 212. 20 See Ambrose, Expositio Psalmi CXVIII, CSEL 62 (ed. M. Petschenig, 1919; M. Zelzer, 1999). 19

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one fears wolves any longer. We graze and browse together with them, as it is written: and then wolves and lambs will graze together.21

Once again, the grace of the Holy Spirit is the force that renews the martyrs, enabling them to be completely reshaped as new creatures, and thus to live safely among wolves. This process is described by Ambrose as a permanent one, whose endpoint is Christ’s grace made effective, able to convert even the persecutors. In the eleventh homily of the same series, we find another important passage about martyrdom and persecution: [David] knows very well that all who want to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted (2 Tim 3:12). So, he prefers to be persecuted, in order to live devotedly in Christ. And rightly he did not speak about a single persecution, but about several . . . because several are the persecutors, not just the visible ones, but also the invisible ones. Persecutors are the evil spirits; persecutors are the heretic, the Jew, the pagan. All those who want to live devotedly, live under persecution . . . . It is perhaps, when we do not suffer persecution, that it seems we have already been condemned, since we have not the slightest intention of living devotedly in Christ. It is certain, as it is clearly spelled out, that all who want to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted (2 Tim 3:12), he who doesn’t suffer persecution seems to have been repudiated, as if he does not live with a pious desire rooted in Christ. Indeed, the struggles of persecution storm against a faithful devotion. If there are no struggles, I'm afraid that it is precisely because of the shortcomings of people who have ceased to struggle . . . . A faith that does not constantly improve itself soon tires, and, if it remains inactive, soon a thousand difficulties put it to the test. An astute attacker breaks into the enemy field when the sentries are relaxed, whilst an external danger keeps a man vigilant and encourages him to keep in sight the prize of a glorious victory. Therefore, the condition of peace is for the faithful an opportunity for degeneration.22

Even if in the following chapter Ambrose will recall his struggle with the court, it is clear that he has moved from the level of a single event to a more comprehensive look. Persecution is not only a permanent dimension of Christian life, but reveals itself as an unavoidable “stress test” for the faith, a “touchstone” charged with the task of testing its truth. So, he writes, “[David] knew well, how persecutions of the evil men are a good chance for the virtues to grow . . . only one who suffers persecution because of faith,

21 22

Ambrose, Exp. Ps. 118, 6.16-17. Ambrose, Exp. Ps. 118, 11.21-22.

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of justice, of chastity, can say the psalm: Unrighteously they persecuted me. Help me, o Lord! (Ps 118:86)”23 What is stated in Psalm 118 about persecution, therefore, assumes the form of a general law, not connected any more to a single episode. So the memory of martyrs becomes a clear depiction of the way Christ keeps on acting in the Church: the martyr sets out and re-enacts His sacrifice on the cross, and thus reveals to what extent total dedication to God the Father reaches. We easily understand why Ambrose was a staunch supporter of the custom of consecrating new churches by means of the burial of martyrs (that is, of their remains). They were placed underneath the altar in order that the Eucharistic sacrifice might be celebrated with the believers facing the example of those people—the martyrs—whose lives, having been nourished with the Body of Christ, had most wholly assimilated His very way of life.

Liturgical meaning of Martyrdom in Ambrosian Tradition All the events connected with the finding of the Saints Protasius and Gervasius deeply marked the life and self-consciousness of the Ambrosian Church. The liturgical feast of the two martyrs soon entered the Church calendar (including both an evening vigil service as well as one on the feast day), and this led to the composition of a whole set of liturgical texts, among which was a hymn written by Ambrose himself. We want now to focus on the liturgical texts that are numbered among the most ancient available Ambrosian liturgical manuscripts, in order to highlight the main themes connected with the worship of the two saints.24 23

Ambrose, Exp. Ps. 118, 11.23. The liturgical texts for the Saints Gervasius and Protasius have been edited following the most ancient manuscripts related to the Ambrosian Rite. See M. Magistretti, ed., Manuale Ambrosianum ex codice saec XI olim in usum canonicae Vallis Travaliae. Pars Altera (Milan: Hoepli, 1904), 294-98; O. Heiming, ed., Corpus Ambrosiano Liturgicum I. Das Sacramentarium triplex. Die Handschrift C 43 der Zentralbibliothek Zürich. 1. Teil: Text (Münster Westfalen: Aschendorffsche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1968), 181-82; O. Heiming, ed., Corpus Ambrosiano Liturgicum II. Das Ambrosianische Sakramentar von Biasca. Die Handschrift Mailand Ambrosiana A24 bis inf. 1. Teil: Text (Münster Westfalen: Aschendorffsche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1969), 125-27; J. Frei and O. Heiming, ed., Corpus Ambrosiano Liturgicum III. Das Ambrosianische Sakramentar D 3-3 aus dem Mailändischen Metropolitankapitel (Münster Westfalen: Aschendorffsche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1974), 330-32; A. Paredi, ed., Sacramentarium Bergomense. Manoscritto del secolo 24

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The edited manuscripts, written from the ninth to the twelfth century, contain texts which can be dated back to the eighth century and maybe earlier, that is before the Carolingian liturgical reformation that affected (and somewhat “Romanized”) even the Ambrosian Liturgy. Some of these texts (prayers, antiphons) are still in use or were in use until the liturgical reform which followed the Second Vatican Council. The first text is the opening prayer of the Mass on the eve of the nineteenth of June, the dies natalis of Gervasius and Protasius. The prayer is very ancient and still in use in the Extraordinary Form of the Ambrosian Rite. So reads the text: Martyrum tuorum, Domine, Protasii et Gervasii natalitia preeuntes, supplices te rogamus: ut quos caelesti gloria sublimasti, tuis adesse concedas fidelibus. Per Dominum . . . . (While we celebrate in advance the day of the birth to Heaven of Your Martyrs Protasius and Gervasius, o Lord, we humbly pray to You: grant that those whom you lifted up to heavenly glory, may assist your faithful. We ask this through our Lord . . . .)25

It is remarkable that in this very short prayer we find two main themes also available in Ambrose’s speeches, as reported to his sister Marcellina: a) the theme of divine/heavenly Glory the martyrs are granted by God’s Grace; b) their assistance/advocacy/protection for the benefit of the faithful. This reminds one of the fact that, for Ambrose, martyrs are not far away from the “average Christian life”; they actually show how radical and comprehensive Christian life should be, but at the same time they are close to the faithful, in order to help them improve themselves. Again, we read the opening prayer of the Mass to be celebrated the day of the feast of the two martyrs. This text is still used in the Extraordinary Form of the Ambrosian Rite. Adesto, Domine, supplicationibus nostris, quas in beatissimorum Martyrum tuorum Protasii et Gervasii commemoratione deferimus: ut qui nostrae iustitiae fiduciam non habemus, eorum, qui tibi placuerunt, meritis et intercessionibus adiuvemur. Per Dominum . . . .

IX della Biblioteca di S. Alessandro in Colonna in Bergamo (Bergamo: Monumenta Bergomensia, 1962), 247-49. Each book contains thorough prefaces and forewords that explain the history of the liturgical texts as well as their historical context. 25 See Magistretti, Manuale Ambrosianum, 294-98, and Heiming, 181-82 and 12527. The translation is mine.

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Chapter Four (O Lord, listen to our supplications, as we submit them to You while celebrating Your most Blessed Martyrs Gervasius and Protasius; as we do not trust our righteousness, may we be helped by the merits and prayers of those who pleased you. We ask this through Christ . . . .)26

We meet in this prayer two different statements: first, that we cannot trust our righteousness, and thus we must rely on the help of the Saints; second, that martyrdom itself is not only the moment of the death, but involves an itinerary of progress in the Christian virtues. We see as background for this prayer an understanding of martyrdom which recalls what we have read in the passage of the Exposition on Psalm 118 about persecution as a path of growth and perfection of faith and good deeds and virtues. The last text we read is the so called praefatio, that is the praise read (or sung) by the priest at the beginning of the Eucharistic Prayer (or Canon), before the hymn of Sanctus. The original ancient praefatio for the Mass of the feast of Protasius and Gervasius, whose origins can be dated to the 5th century, reported the information that the saints were brothers. This information was also written in an apocryphal letter attributed to St. Ambrose,27 that describes the finding and passio of the two martyrs. Since the nineteenth century, scholars have harshly criticized the entire content of this text, due to the authorship of Ambrose being proved to be false, marking as a fiction all references to the brotherhood of Gervasius and Protasius. Thus, during the liturgical reformation following Vatican II, the text of the praefatio had been expunged. But the recent discoveries regarding the relics of Gervasius and Protasius scientifically showed that actually the two saints were brothers. Following this evidence, the historical value of the whole account of the finding and its details must be revised.28 Therefore, we prefer to quote the praefatio according to the text in use until 1976, that faithfully reproduces the text of the ancient manuscripts. 26

See Magistretti, Manuale Ambrosianum, 294-98, and Heiming, 181-82 and 12527. 27 For the letter, see BHL 3514; PL 17.821-25. 28 See C. Faccendini and C. Capponi, ed., Apparuit Thesaurus Ambrosius. Le reliquie di sant’ambrogio e dei martiri Gervaso e Protaso tra storia, scienza e fede (Cinisello Balsamo: Silvana Editoriale, 2019), which gives account of the whole scientific investigation performed in 2018 on the relics of Ambrose, Gervasius, and Protasius. In this volume, for the forensic evidence of Gervasius and Protasius’ brotherhood, see C. Cattaneo, D. Mazzarelli, and D. De Angelis, “I due fratelli: santo interno ed esterno,”110-21; C. Cattaneo, D. Porta, and M. Mattia, “Conclusioni,” 122-25; for the apocryphal letter of Ambrose about the finding of the two martyrs, see M. Petoletti, “Nequimus esse martyres, sed repperimus martyres. Le reliquie di Ambrogio, Protaso e Gervaso nelle fonti antiche e medievali,” 202-15.

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Qui militibus tuis, pro tui nominis amore certantibus, virtutem fidei contulisti. Inter quos et pios fratres beatum Protasium et Gervasium aggregare dignatus es: quos pater dudum paecesserat, adeptus martyrii palmam. Hi sunt, qui vexillo caelesti signati, victricia Apostoli arma sumpserunt: et a mundanis nexibus absoluti, nequissimi hostis vitiorum aciem prosternentes, liberi et expediti Christum Dominum sunt secuti. O quam felix germanitas, quae sacris inhaerendo eloquiis nullo potuit interpolare contagio! O quam gloriosa certaminis causa, ubi pariter coronantur, quos unus uterus maternus effudit! Pro quorum triumphis et fecundissima mater laetatur Ecclesia, quae per beatum Ambrosium tales meruit sobolem reperire, qui sibi conferant signa virtutum et gloriam . . . . (You have granted to Your soldiers [i.e., martyrs], who fought for Your Name’s sake, the virtue of faith. Among them you decided to number the pious brothers Protasius and Gervasius, whom their father preceded in receiving the palm of Martyrdom. They are the ones who, committing themselves to the heavenly banner, took up the winning weapons of the Apostle [Paul] and, loosened from any secular tie, overwhelmed the impious enemy’s army of wickedness, so that they freely and quickly followed the Lord Jesus. Oh happy brotherhood, which used to talk about sacred subjects, so that no contamination could creep in between them. Oh what a glorious reason to fight, as both those whom begot the same maternal womb, were crowned by the same victory! For their victories the Church rejoices , like a prolific Mother, who through the blessed Ambrose deserved to obtain such children, who became vessels of her virtues and glory . . . .)29

In this greatly laudatory text we can stress a further theme taken from the text of Ambrose’s sermons; i.e., the honor and glory merited by the Church as a proud mother of such sons. 30 This ecclesiological nuance is to be underlined, as Ambrose himself committed to the martyrs the task to shape and enrich the imagination and peculiar properties of the local Church he served. The Ambrosian Church has always maintained a tight connection to the local civic community, feeling herself involved in a relationship full of 29 See Magistretti, Manuale Ambrosianum, 294-98, and Heiming, 181-82 and 12527. 30 See Ambrose, Ep. 77.7: “Principes populi quos alios nisi sanctos martyres aestimare debemus, quorum iam in numerum diu ante ignorati Protasius Gervasiusque praeferuntur, qui sterilem martyribus ecclesiam Mediolanensem iam plurimorum matrem filiorum laetari passionis propriae fecerunt et titulis et exemplis?” (We will not honor no one as prince of the people, but the holy martyrs. Among them Protasius and Gervasius are prominent for us, as they were early ignored to be in their number. Indeed, by their own suffering they caused the Milanese Church to rejoice: she was the mother of many children, but still barren of martyrs, and through their example she received also this title of honor.)

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respect and the ability to foster the moral and spiritual growth of the town and its inhabitants by continuously recalling them to their roots of faith and dignity.

Conclusions As we stated before, for a long time the scholar’s focus has been centered on the political and polemical meaning of the finding of Gervasius and Protasius by Ambrose. We have tried, on our part, to emphasize the religious and spiritual meaning of these events, as it was stated by Ambrose himself both at the very time of their happening, as we can read in the account written to his sister Marcellina, and in the following years, mainly on the feast day of the two martyrs. The readiness of many scholars to underestimate the importance of the faith of Ambrose as the true background of his deeds has often led them to deny the historical value of the statements written by the bishop himself or recorded in traditional sources related to his church environment. But, now that the evidence coming from the most recent scientific examinations surprisingly (at least for many scholars) confirms traditional data like the brotherhood of Gervasius and Protasius, we are summoned to be a little more cautious in “hyper-criticizing” the traditional elements and texts. Moreover, even if we belong to a time when faith is hardly believed to be a true component of the person and a reliable and convincing reason for acting and deciding, we should remember that it did not always happen this way. As I wrote in 2017, “We can personally concur or not with Constantine’s or Ambrose’s political and religious thought. But we think it to be important and necessary to agree that a methodologically correct understanding of the deeds of such men—who showed themselves able to deeply mark their times and the course of history—must be ready to acknowledge in them a soul and a heart which could decide to act toward ideal goals with a more generous and realistic attitude than ours.”31 As we have tried to show, the martyrs were considered by Ambrose to be powerful celestial intercessors on the grounds that by their conduct they were perfect witnesses of the Gospel and they had procured their holiness through the shedding of blood: he himself encouraged the people to put their trust in them—in those brothers in faith who had virtuously led their own victorious battles—and he entrusted to their protection the custody and 31

See F. Braschi, “Costantino in Ambrogio. Appunti di contenuto e di metodo dalla lettura dei testi,” in Costantino a Milano. L’editto e la sua storia (313-2013), ed. R. Macchioro (Milan: Bulzoni Editore, 2017), 223-37; here, 237.

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safety of the Catholic Church. In a time when the growing popularity of the bishop and the end of the Arian persecutions could deceive Christians into believing in the possibility of a Christian life lived easily and without any great effort, the pastor strongly reaffirmed that there could be no reward if there was no struggle. In this way he intended to propose a very precise model of Christian life to the faithful, which was both ecclesial and individual, one which countered the widespread tendency to laxity and the "normalization" of the Christian experience by setting a positive example. It is wholly evident how this underlining of the value of spiritual struggle is of greatest importance for nowadays’ life of the Church and of individual persons. The history of the Ambrosian Church still preserves such an important teaching by Ambrose, willing to renew its effectiveness by mean of the liturgical worship, where ancient texts still demonstrate their value. And the Church in Milan is proud and happy to share this inheritance with all those who honor St. Ambrose and wish to learn from him.

CHAPTER FIVE THE SONG OF SONGS: A KEY TO AMBROSE AND HIS VISION OF THE CHURCH SR. MARIA M. KIELY, O.S.B.

The basilica crisis of Easter 386 might have ended far differently. The bishop might have been exiled and an Homoian reinstated at the helm.1 Valentinian II might have shown that the emperor could act independently of the Church. The Nicene Maximus might have found the excuse he needed to invade Italy for a just war.2 None of this happened for two significant reasons. First, the bishop had enormous political savoir faire; he was a retired provincial governor, a lawyer, and a rhetorician with the experience and connections of a Roman senator. Second, the people of Milan stood behind their bishop. Although the details of the crisis elude to some extent a clear and fully developed narrative, the contribution of the Milanese Christians to the outcome is clear; Ambrose was able to navigate without mishap the political machinations of the court because the people of Milan were united around him, and they were numerous. 3 During more than twelve years of episcopacy, Ambrose had won their hearts and minds, not only to his person, but also to the Nicene faith.4 Now, in 386, they were willing to brave imperial troops and to successfully stage a protest that looks rather like a modern phenomenon. 1 Neil McLynn, Ambrose of Milan: Church and State in a Christian Capital (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 184. 2 McLynn, Ambrose of Milan, 208; Cesare Pasini, Ambrose of Milan: Deeds and Thought of a Bishop, trans. Robert L. Grant (New York: Society of St. Paul, 2013), 126-27. 3 See also Pasini, Deeds and Thought, 117-18, 224-27. 4 Note that Benevolus and the merchants react, not out of loyalty to Ambrose, but in order to maintain their Nicene faith. Also, soldiers defected to the Nicene side. How many we do not know, but numerous enough to be worth mentioning.

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The political causes of the basilica crisis have been fully analyzed, the political innuendos have been uncovered, and the political clout of Ambrose has been measured.5 Does it all add up to a sufficient cause for the united front of the protesting people of Milan? I think not. There is more to the story, something deeper that explains why Ambrose could command such loyalty and trust. A wide reading of his works and letters contains what I consider to be a key to his success. It is no doubt one key among several, but it touches deep psychological and spiritual attitudes that mobilize people in support of a cause and it is unique to Ambrose. It seems to have eluded the efforts of modern scholars, as they have sought to penetrate and readjust the image of the strong and powerful bishop, which has been Ambrose’s legacy. Their efforts have resulted in what might be called a helpful corrective to the image of Ambrose, but they have obscured significant elements of his personality. If we try to lift the veil on the interior life, the character, and the convictions of the bishop, do we discover a deeper charism that he would have transmitted to his congregation Sunday after Sunday, as they gathered to hear him preach? What is the source of this charism? If we cannot answer this question fully, is there nevertheless a key that opens a way into the personality and the appeal of Ambrose? I think the answer is “yes” and it is found in his abiding preoccupation with the Song of Songs, that small and wonderful book of the Bible which represents the entire economy of the Christian life under the allegory of sensual love; it is a kind of Scriptural myth, not unlike the myths of pagan Greece and Rome. This was congenial imagery to Ambrose’s poetic instincts, and it allowed him, on an intuitive level, to show himself and his people their identity as members of the Church. He saw in the image of Bride and Bridegroom of the Song a representation of the primacy, beauty, and attractiveness of the Christian life. In Ambrose’s able hands, the Song became an invitation to understand Christianity as a participation in the all-embracing, enchanting, and glorious exchange between Christ and the Church.6 5

McLynn, Church and State, 170-208. “Enchanting” is Ambrose’s word; he uses it in his sermon against Auxentius to refer to the singing of hymns by the people as they occupied the basilicas during the crisis. It is a play on the Latin carmen, which may mean either “incantation” or “song.” “Hymnorum quoque meorum carminibus deceptum populum ferunt, plane nec hoc abnuo. Grande carmen istud est quo nihil potentius; quid enim potentius quam confession trinitatis, quae cottidie totius populi ore celebratur? Certatim omnes student fidem fateri, patrem et filium et spiritum sanctum norunt versibus praedicare. Facti sunt igitur omnes magistri, qui vix poterant esse discipuli.” Ambrose, Contra Auxentium, Ep.75a, 34, CSEL 82.3:105. 6

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After taking a brief inventory of his treatises containing references to the Song of Songs, we will examine some personal qualities of Ambrose himself that seem to govern his use of the Song. Then we will look briefly at passages from the Song that represent his vision of the Church. Before we begin, however, I would like to share with you a passage from his Expositio on Psalm 118 that shows in a general way how much the Song meant to Ambrose. It is remarkable for the intensity and depth of the imagery. The passage is a commentary on Sg 2:8: “The voice of my beloved! Behold, he comes, leaping upon the mountains, bounding over the hills.” “Behold,” she [the Bride] says, “he comes.” I seek him, and now he comes; I strive for his favors, that he may come; and already he is near. I long to rouse my love; I sense that I am wounded by love, and Love itself hastens to me all the more. I said, “Come.” He leaps and bounds . . . . The righteous soul is the bride of the Word. And she, if she desires, if she longs, if she prays, and prays assiduously, without complaint, if she tends wholly towards the Word, then suddenly she seems to hear his voice, though she cannot see him, and by a deep and interior sense she recognizes the perfume of his divinity; many who have faith experience this. The nostrils of the soul are suddenly filled with spiritual grace and she senses the breath of his presence blowing upon her, him whom she seeks, and she says “Behold, this is the one I seek; the one I desire.”7

Note the primary orientation of the imagery. The Apostle Paul had likened the Church to a bride; she is the Bride of Christ (Eph 5:31-32). Ambrose takes up this image to describe the interior ascent of the Christian soul to God. Note also that he considers this experience to be more common among the faithful than one might think: “many who have faith experience this.” In the homilies that make up the commentary on Ps 118, Ambrose is not preaching to ascetics and virgins; he is preaching from the pulpit to his congregation at large. Finally, even as he refers to the Song of Songs, he 7

“Ecce, inquit, iste aduenit (Sg 2:8). adhuc ego eum quaero et ille iam uenit, adhuc ego suffragia capto, ut ueniat et ille iam proximus est. ego suscitari mihi caritatem cupio, ego me uulneratam caritatis puto et ad me plus caritas ipsa festinat. ego dixi ‘ueni,’ ille salit et transilit . . . anima iusti sponsa est Uerbi. haec si desideret, si cupiat, si oret et oret adsidue et oret sine ulla disceptatione et tota intendat in Uerbo, subito uocem sibi uidetur eius audire quem non uidet et intimo sensu odorem diuinitatis eius agnoscit, quod patiuntur plerumque qui bene credunt. replentur subito nares animae spiritali gratia et sentit sibi praesentiae eius flatum adspirare, quem quaerit, et dicit: ‘Ecce iste ipse est quem requiro, ipse quem desidero.’” Ambrose, Expos. Ps.118 6.6, 8, CSEL 62:112.

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gives more here than a simple exposition of the Song would yield; he is interpreting it on the basis of his own interior experience of mystical prayer.

The Song of Songs in Ambrose’s Writings References to the Song of Songs come into nearly every genre of Ambrose’s writings. Passing references are found in his letters, the Hexameron, De paradiso, De Cain et Abel, Noe, his treatises on the Patriarchs, the De Poenitentia, the second funeral oration for his brother Satyrus, the De Fide, his Expositio on the Gospel of Luke, and his commentaries on the psalms. More than passing references are found, as one would expect, in the treatises on virginity. In the De sacramentis and the De mysteriis, he uses the Song of Songs extensively to explain the spiritual dimension of Christian initiation. Finally, in the De Isaac, the Do bono mortis, the Expositio on Psalm 118, and in the funeral oration of Valentinian II, the Song of Songs is essential to the structure of the whole. The only major work containing no allusions to the Song of Songs is the De officiis; it was inspired by Stoic ideals inherited from Cicero, and it was intended primarily, if not exclusively, for his clergy. Precisely in their role as leaders in the Church the clergy do not fit the image of the Bride. Allusions to the Wedding Feast of Cana, to Christ as Bridegroom (Mt 9:15), to the wise and foolish virgins waiting for the Bridegroom (Mt 25) are also absent. This absence of nuptial imagery from the De officiis highlights the fact that Ambrose’s use of the Song of Songs in other treatises is intentional. Also not surprisingly, the funeral oration for Theodosius, in contrast to the oration for Valentinian II, contains no references to the Song. Finally, it is significant that the treatises in which the Song plays an essential role are written for his congregation at large, not for ascetics and virgins.

The Song of Songs: a key to Ambrose himself The Song of Songs was a bridge for Ambrose that united the periods of his life as a cultured, Roman senatorial provincial governor and as bishop of Milan; it added an element of coherence. It also provided him with a magnificent venue for poetic mysticism. Finally, it reveals in Ambrose a depth of affective integration that was highly unusual among fourth-century Christian writers. First, there are indications that the Song of Songs may have been of longstanding personal significance to Ambrose. He grew up in a household dominated by the presence of his mother, a pious widow, and an older sister Marcellina, a consecrated virgin who received the veil from Pope Liberius

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while Ambrose was still a young man at home. Though we have no written evidence, it is reasonable to think that the Song of Songs would have entered naturally into the piety of the family. Also, Marcellina was of the same senatorial rank and a contemporary of the pious women who surrounded Jerome. As Jerome has high praise for Ambrose’s early treatises on virginity, containing multiple references to the Song of Songs, we may suppose that his circle of women would have read the treatises and been familiar with the imagery they contain. We seem to see the young Ambrose after his episcopal ordination, under the tutelage of Simplicianus, getting himself “up to speed” in his study of Scripture. The fact that his earliest treatises were devoted to virginity, and these abound in references to the Song of Songs, may indicate that no intense study was needed here. Further, the Song of Songs is a love story like so many tales and myths Ambrose grew up with and knew how to interpret from his Classical education. Indeed, much of the Song is simply love poetry, like the poetry of Catullus, Ovid, Propertius, and others. Thus, culture and education would have made it a congenial text. Yet it also belongs to the canonical corpus of sacred Scriptures, and as such it was a text he could bring with him into the episcopate and handle with a measure of ease. From a purely psychological standpoint, having a bridge such as this would have been a comfort to Ambrose as he embarked on his unexpected career. We see traces of his classical and cultural inheritance in the delight he takes as he fills in details of a wholly secular nature; he lingers over them. For example, in the first stanza of his Expositio on Psalm 118, where he refers to the opening lines of the Song of Songs like Origen before him, he must explain the abrupt beginning in medias res: “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth.” Origen gives Ambrose a point of departure: the bride is a young noble woman waiting for her betrothed, and impatient at the delay, she begins to pray to God and beg God: “Let him kiss me . . . .”8 Ambrose, however, after introducing his young noble maiden, takes a different approach. He begins to tell a story, in elegant narrative style: So imagine a virgin betrothed for a long time and burning with a rightful love, who knew from the commendation of reliable witnesses the many and illustrious deeds of her beloved. With her desires in suspense, and repeatedly made to wait, she can bear the delay no longer, she has done everything possible to see her betrothed. [Understand] that at long last she will attain her desires, but at the unexpected arrival of her bridegroom she is flustered with

8

Kommentar zum Hohelied, Origenes Werke, bd.8, Rufins und Hieronymus Übersetzungen, ed. W. A. Baehrens (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1925), 89, l. 13; 90.2.

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joy and does not seek the introductory greetings, no exchange of words, but she demands immediately what she has desired . . . . “Let him kiss me. . . .9

Where Origen has his maiden pray to God, Ambrose makes his maiden run up to her fiancé whom she has never met and demand a kiss instantly. In a similar vein is the drama that closes the same Expositio. The daughters of Jerusalem from the Song of Songs become the matrons in a Milanese household. They wish to delay the marriage of the young bride, not because it is a bad match but because she is too young. The father and the groom are for going ahead without delay. Finally, they all ask the bride: she says she is ready and expresses her resolve with verses from the Song of Songs. This little drama is totally enmeshed in the social life of Milan. Both scenes, one at the beginning, the other at the end of the treatise, are entertaining and amusing literary pieces. Ambrose here, as elsewhere, shows a sense of humor and, without passing beyond the bounds of episcopal decorum, dwells with relish on mundane and circumstantial details of interest to his audience. Second, Ambrose was a poet of genius and a mystic. We saw both elements at play in the passage cited at the beginning of this paper. His poetic gift combined with an interior life of prayer and a deep sense of the reality of the Church brought the Song of Songs into its full function as an allegory of the Christian life. He worked out the story and the poetic elements with variety and in great detail.10 Here, however, I would like to mention one aspect of his interpretation of the allegory as a whole that is unique to Ambrose. The Biblical text of the Song of Songs retains an element of suspense; the lovers are seeking one another, but there are mishaps and their definitive union is never fully realized. This makes it a typical love story and a perfect image for the ascent of the soul in the spiritual life. Ambrose exploits this fully in the De Isaac. He understands, however, what J. R. R. Tolkien calls the persuasive power of the happy ending; Tolkien says: “It is not difficult to imagine the peculiar excitement and joy that one would feel, if any specially beautiful fairy-story were found 9

“Constitue ergo uirginem desponsatam multo tempore et iusto feruentem amore, quae multa praeclara opera dilecti probabilium testium adsertione cognouerit, desideriis suspensis dilatam frequenter iam non ferentem moras, quae omnia fecisset, ut sponsum uideret, aliquando uotis potitam suis ad inprouisum sponsi aduentum gaudio turbatam non quaerere primordia salutationis, non uerborum uices, sed statim quod desiderasset exigere . . . . Osculetur me . . . .” Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118, 1.4, CSEL 62:6. 10 There is not space here for detailed analysis, but the excerpts given contain multiple examples of Ambrose’s development of the allegory.

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to be ‘primarily’ true, its narrative to be history, without thereby necessarily losing the mythical or allegorical significance that it had possessed.”11 This comment beautifully captures Ambrose’s enthusiasm for the Song of Songs. It is an allegory that is true on the deepest level; it expresses the primary truth of human existence: that mankind is made for the unbelievable happiness of an intimate and reciprocal union with Christ. Ambrose is both optimistic and serene; Christians are still on the ascent, but the Church, the mystical Bride, lives now in the bridal chamber. Thus, in a number of passages Ambrose takes the union of Bride and Bridegroom beyond the limits of the Song of Songs to its logical conclusion and shows the Bride and Bridegroom happily married. In the example below, the Bride represents human nature and the whole of mankind who fell in Eden; after a long period of sin she regained her purity, and now she is brought with joy and exultation into the nuptial chamber. Her name is Caro (Flesh). By now, caro (flesh), desiring to cling to Christ, hastened to be married, that she might be one spirit [with him; cf. 1 Cor 6:17] and become the flesh of Christ, she who before was the flesh of a prostitute. She says “Let him kiss me”—The Word of God kisses us when the Spirit of knowledge illumines our understanding—and like one despising all her pleasures and delights, desiring passionately (cupiens) to adhere to heavenly mandates, she says, “For the precepts of your testaments are better than every appetite of the flesh and sensual pleasure of the world.” She remembers that formerly in Eve she had fallen as long as she put the pleasure of the body over and above the heavenly mandates. “Your name is a fragrant oil poured forth”; that is, this world (mundus) was stinking (faetabat), foul (immundus) with the impurities of varied crimes; now, the sweetness of chastity, the perfumed oil of faith, the flower of integrity breathe forth everywhere . . . . And she says, “The King has introduced me into his chamber; we exult and rejoice in you; we love your breasts more than wine” (Sg 1:4). For the kiss is a single gesture, but the business [of marriage] (negotium) is the secret of the bridal chamber.12 11

J. R. R. Tolkien, “On Fairy-Stories,” Essays Presented to Charles Williams, ed. C. S. Lewis (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1966), 84. 12 “Iam uolebat adhaerere Christo caro, iam festinabat innubere, ut esset unus spiritus (cf. 1 Cor 6:17) et fieret caro Christi, quae erat ante meretricis. “osculetur,” inquit, “me”—osculatur nos dei uerbum, quando sensum nostrum spiritus cognitionis inluminat - et tamquam despiciens omnes iucunditates et delectationes suas, caelestibus cupiens inhaerere mandatis ait: “quoniam optima praecepta testamentorum tuorum super omnem adpetentiam carnis et saeculi uoluptatem.” meminerat enim se in Eua ante sic lapsam, dum uoluptatem corporis praefert mandatis caelestibus. unguentum exinanitum nomen tuum (Sg 1:2/3), hoc est: totus inmundus inpuritatibus diuersorum facinorum faetebat hic mundus; nunc spirat

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Note that for Ambrose, the pastor in an imperial city, past sins are no obstacle to this glorious marriage and ultimate happiness. In Book 2 of De doctrina christiana, Augustine, in a near textual quote from Ambrose, shows us the effect Ambrose’s development of allegory had on his audiences. Augustine asks: Why is it, I ask, that if someone says that there are people who are holy and perfect, and that through their life and character the Church of Christ separates out those who come to her from all kinds of superstition; that she incorporates them in some way into herself by their imitation of [these] good [people]; and that the good and faithful, the true servants of God, who have laid down the burdens of the world and come to holy baptism, and rising up from [the font] and conceiving by the Holy Spirit, bring forth the fruit of a twin charity, that is [love] of God and their neighbor: why is it that if someone says these things, he pleases the listener less than he would if he had drawn the same meaning from an explanation of that passage from the Song of Songs where it is said of the Church, when she is praised like a beautiful woman, “Your teeth are like shorn ewes coming up from the washing, all of them bearing twins, and there is not a barren one among them” (Sg 4:2). Does anyone learn something different than if he heard it in plain words without the help of this simile? And yet, in a way I do not understand, I contemplate the saints with greater delight when I see them as the teeth of the Church, . . . it is difficult to tell why I should see this with greater delight than I would if no simile such as this were brought forth from the Scriptures, since the reality is the same and the knowledge is the same . . . .13 ubique suauitas pudicitiae, unguentum fidei, flos integritatis. et a moralibus uenit ad mystica dicens: introduxit me rex in cubiculum suum. exultemus et laetemur in te; diligamus ubera tua super uinum (Sg 1:4). simplex est enim osculum, negotiosum autem cubiculi secretum.” Ambrose, Exp. Ps. 118, 1.5b, CSEL 62:8. 13 “Quid enim est, quaeso, quod si quisquam dicat sanctos esse homines atque perfectos, quorum uita et moribus Christi ecclesia de quibuslibet superstitionibus praecidit eos, qui ad se ueniunt et imitatione bonorum sibimet quodammodo incorporat; qui boni fideles et ueri Dei serui deponentes onera saeculi ad sanctum baptismi lauacrum uenerunt atque inde ascendentes conceptione Sancti Spiritus fructum dant geminae caritatis, id est Dei et proximi. Quid est ergo, quod, si haec quisquam dicat, minus delectat audientem, quam si ad eundem sensum locum illum exponat de Canticis Canticorum, ubi dictum est Ecclesiae, cum tamquam pulchra quaedam femina laudaretur: dentes tui sicut grex detonsarum ascendens de lauacro, quae omnes geminos creant, et sterilis non est in illis? Num aliud homo discit, quam cum illud planissimis uerbis sine similitudinis huius adminiculo audiret? Et tamen nescio quomodo suauius intueor sanctos, cum eos quasi dentes Ecclesiae uideo praecidere ab erroribus homines atque in eius corpus emollita duritia quasi demorsos

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Augustine, Ambrose’s catechumen, was fascinated and charmed by the use of imagery from the Song of Songs. Without fully understanding why, he was drawn by the imagery; it led him to contemplate the saints with greater delight, and so more effectively than a plain text would be able to do. Remember that Augustine said in the Confessions that it was Ambrose’s figurative readings of difficult passages in the Old Testament that first opened his own eyes to the coherence of the Scriptures and the defensibility of the Catholic faith (Conf. 5.14). This is the power of the poetic image in the hands of an able bishop. Third, Ambrose brought to his exegesis of the Song of Songs a serenity that is somewhat elusive but which allowed him to allegorize the intimacy of the lovers in the Song without exceeding the bounds of episcopal decorum, and we know from the De officiis just how important that decorum was to him.14 When Gregory of Nyssa, by contrast, writes his commentary on the Song of Songs, he takes pains to begin with a warning to his audience: “Let no one bring passionate, fleshly thoughts . . . unsuitable for the divine nuptials (Hom.1, J15).” By contrast, Ambrose offers no admonitions whatever. Although the allegory of the Song is his constant and primary focus, he seems to feel no need to warn against the natural, literal level of the Song. He understood that the natural level is what initially draws his audience. They are charmed and they listen. There are a number of passages we could cite from the De Isaac, for example, that speak of the lover’s prolonged kiss and passionate embrace;15 but I would like to quote here a passage from a letter Ambrose wrote to his friend across town, Irenaeus, because it shows us the interior route Ambrose himself has taken. His language is that of sense; his love is pure. It is both/and, not either/or. So if the soul with her innate faculties for desire and pleasure has tasted this true and highest Good, and if she has drunk deeply from it with these two affections, banishing sorrow and fear, then she burns with incredible ardor. Having kissed the Word of God, she knows no restraint, nor can she be satisfied. She says, “You are sweet, Lord, and in your delight, teach me your mansosque transferre. Oues etiam iucundissime agnosco detonsas oneribus saecularibus tamquam uelleribus positis et ascendentes de lauacro, id est de baptismate, creare omnes geminos, duo praecepta dilectionis, et nullam esse ab isto sancto fructu sterilem uideo. Sed quare suauius uideam, quam si nulla de diuinis libris talis similitudo promeretur, cum res eadem sit eademque cognitio, difficile est dicere et alia quaestio est.” De Doct. Christ. 2.6.7, 11; Augustine, De Doctrina Christiana, ed. and trans. R. P. H. Green (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995), 60-62. 14 Ambrose, De officiis, 1.220-225, in Ambrose, De officiis, 2 vols., ed. Ivor Davidson (Oxford University Press, 2001), 1:244-248. 15 See Ambrose, De Isaac, 3.8-9, CSEL 32.1b:648.

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statutes.” (Ps118:68). Having kissed the Word of God, she desires him above all beauty, loves him beyond all joy, delights in him beyond all perfumes (Sg 4:10); she longs to see him often, to gaze at him again and again. She desires to be drawn, that she may follow. “Your name,” she says, “is a perfumed oil poured out” (Sg 1:2-3).16

The tone of this passage is that of Plotinus (1.6.12) and Augustine (Conf 9.1); yet it is Ambrose writing long before Augustine sat down to write his Confessions.17 A discussion of Plotinus in Ambrose, as well as Ambrose in Augustine, is beyond the scope of this paper, but we recognize that the imagery from the Song of Songs here reflects interior dispositions common to all three men. We also see in this passage Ambrose’s acceptance of human nature for what it is. This acceptance is wholesome, both psychologically and theologically, and it reflects a depth of affective integration unrivaled among fourth century Christian writers. Origen comes close at times, and Ambrose read Origen well, but the theological and philosophical foundations upon which Origen wrote his commentary on the Song of Songs are different from those of Ambrose. Ambrose brought the Song of Songs out of the essentially elite circles of celibacy and the high levels of perfection envisioned by Origen into the realm of Christian life at 16

“Hoc igitur verum et summum bonum sicut illo concupiscibili suo et delectabili anima gustaverit et duabus his hauserit adfectionibus, excludens dolorem et formidinem incredibiliter exaestuat. Osculata enim Verbum Dei modum non capit nec expletur dicens: Suavis es, domine, et in iucunditate tua doce me iustificationes tuas. Osculata Dei Verbum, concupiscit super omnem decorem, diligit super omnem laetitiam, delectatur super omnia aromata, cupit frequenter videre, saepe intendere, cupit “adtrahi” ut sequi possit. Unguentum, inquit, exinanitum est nomen tuum . . . .” Ambrose, Ep. 11.10, CSEL 82.1, 83-4. 17 Plotinus, En.1.6.12: “ȉȠ૨IJȠ Ƞ੣Ȟ İ੅ IJȚȢ ੅įȠȚ, ʌȠȓȠȣȢ ਗȞ ੅ıȤȠȚ ਩ȡȦIJĮȢ, ʌȠȓȠȣȢ į੻ ʌȩșȠȣȢ, ȕȠȣȜȩȝİȞȠȢ Į੝IJ૶ ıȣȖțİȡĮıșોȞĮȚ, ʌ૵Ȣ į ࡑ ਗȞ ਥțʌȜĮȖİȓȘ ȝİș ࡑ ਲįȠȞોȢ; ਯıIJȚ Ȗ੹ȡ IJ૶ ȝ੻Ȟ ȝȒʌȦ ੁįȩȞIJȚ ੑȡȑȖİıșĮȚ ੪Ȣ ਕȖĮșȠ૨ǜ IJ૶ į੻ ੁįȩȞIJȚ ਫ਼ʌȐȡȤİȚ ਥʌ੿ țĮȜ૶ ਙȖĮıșĮȓ IJİ țĮ੿ șȐȝȕȠȣȢ ʌȓȝʌȜĮıșĮȚ ȝİș ࡑ ਲįȠȞોȢ țĮ੿ ਥțʌȜȒIJIJİıșĮȚ ਕȕȜĮȕ૵Ȣ țĮȚ ਥȡ઼Ȟ ਕȜȘșો ਩ȡȦIJĮ țĮ੿ įȡȚȝİ૙Ȣ ʌȩșȠȣȢ . . . .” (If anyone should see it [the Good], what passions would he feel, what longings; desiring to be mingled and united with it, how he would be astounded with delight! It is possible for the one who has not seen it to desire it as a good, but to him who has seen, it belongs to glory in its beauty and, filled of wonder and delight, to endure a shock that causes no hurt, and to love with true passion and keen desire . . . .) . Augustine, Conf. 9.1: “Quam suave mihi subito factum est carere suavitatibus nugarum, et quas amittere metus fuerat, iam dimittere gaudium erat. eiciebas enim eas a me, vera tu et summa suavitas, eiciebas et intrabas pro eis omni voluptate dulcior, sed non carni et sanguini, omni luce clarior, sed omni secreto interior, omni honore sublimior…; et garriebam tibi, claritati meae et divitiis et saluti meae, domino deo meo.”

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large. This shift was an all-important step forward towards the integration of the Song of Songs into medieval religious and literary culture.

The Song of Songs: A Key to Ambrose’s Vision of the Church For Ambrose, the baptized Christian who comes forth from the font, purified of his or her sins, is as pure and lovely as the Bride of the Song, and he or she is incorporated into the Church as Bride, under the formality of Christ’s beloved.18 Each Christian and every Christian together is the Bride, cleansed, nourished, and unified by the sacraments. Several examples will suffice to show the varied aspects of this vision of the Church. The first example shows us Ambrose with admirable pastoral sense placing himself as bishop into the economy of the life of the Bride-Church. He saw himself standing in relation to the particular church of Milan as a proxy for Christ. In the passage below from his Expositio on the Gospel of Luke, the term ad temporalis speciem sacerdotis indicates that each successive bishop represents the Bridegroom for a period of time, by virtue of his office. This is an early formulation of classic episcopal theology. We have learned about the order of the truth [the historical events], we have learned of the counsel taken [Joseph considering whether or not to divorce Mary quietly]; let us learn now the mystery. It is well that she is betrothed, yet a virgin, since she is a type of the Church, which is immaculate, but married [to Christ]. As a virgin she [the Church] conceives us, as a virgin she gives birth to us without pain and sorrow. And so perhaps holy Mary was joined in marriage to one [Joseph] but made pregnant by another [the Holy Spirit], since indeed each of the individual churches (singulae ecclesiae) are made pregnant by the Spirit and grace, but married to a bishop for a time by virtue of his office (ad temporalis speciem sacerdotis).19

18

In the text (Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 1.5b) cited above that begins: “By now, caro…” the text within dashes clearly indicates that we, all Christians, are with the Church as Bride. 19 “Didicimus seriem ueritatis, didicimus consilium : discamus et mysterium. Bene desponsata, sed uirgo, quia est ecclesiae typus, quae est immaculata, sed nupta. Concepit nos uirgo de spiritu, parit nos uirgo sine gemitu. Et ideo fortasse sancta Maria alii nupta, ab alio repleta, quia et singulae ecclesiae spiritu quidem replentur et gratia, iunguntur tamen ad temporalis speciem sacerdotis . . .”; literally: “a temporal bishop.” Ambrose, Luc. 2.7; Ambroise de Milan, Traité sur l’évangile de s. Luc, vol.1, ed. Gabriel Tissot, O. S. B. (Paris: Sources Chrétiennes, 1956), 74.

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Second, in his mystagogical catecheses, Ambrose shows Christians how the Church is born in her members. These were sermons delivered at Milan, as elsewhere, to the neophytes during Easter week; in them Ambrose describes and comments upon the events of the Easter Vigil during which the catechumens were baptized and received the other sacraments of the Church for the first time. We have two treatises representing Ambrose’s mystagogy, the De sacramentis, notes taken during his sermons, and the De mysteriis, a more polished and general presentation. In De mysteriis 34-42, Ambrose hands over to the newly baptized through the Song of Songs their identity as the Church. It is a conversation between Christ and the Church newly emerged from the font and ready to proceed into the church for the Eucharist. The entire passage is too long to be quoted in full, but one may easily see from the excerpt given that it is a woven fabric of quotations from and allusions to the Song of Songs: Christ, however, as he looks at his Church in white garments . . . or, rather, as he looks at the soul, clean and washed from the bath of regeneration, says, “Behold, you are beautiful, my Love, behold, you are beautiful. Your eyes are like doves” (Sg 4:1). . . . [A little later, Ambrose speaks of the Church’s response,] “Do you see how, delighted with the gift of graces, she desires to arrive at the more intimate mysteries (interiora mysteria) and to consecrate all of her senses to Christ? Without ceasing, she seeks; she rouses her charity and asks the daughters of Jerusalem to rouse it up for her (cf. Sg 2:7), by whose grace, that is the grace of faithful souls, she desires to provoke her Spouse to a richer more abundant love for her. Whence the Lord Jesus, invited by such ardor of charity and loveliness of beauty and grace, since now in those who are washed no stains mar her, says to the Church: “Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm” (Sg 8:6); that is, “You are beautiful, my Love, you are all fair, there is no flaw within you” (cf. Sg 4:7).20

20

“Christus autem videns ecclesiam suam in vestimentis candidis, pro qua ipse, ut habes in Zacchariae libro prophetae, sordida vestimenta susceperat, vel animam regenerationis lavacro mundam atque ablutam dicit: Ecce formonsa es, proxima mea, ecce es formonsa, oculi tui sicut columbae. . . . Vides, quemadmodum delectata munere gratiarum ad interiora cupit mysteria pervenire et omnes sensus suos consecrare Christo? Adhuc quaerit, adhuc suscitat caritatem et suscitari eam sibi poscit a filiabus Hierusalem, quarum gratia, hoc est animarum fidelium, sponsum in aomorem sui uberiorem desiderat provocari. Unde dominus Iesus et ipse invitatus tantae studio caritatis, pulchritudine decoris et gratiae, quod nulla iam in ablutis delicta sorderent, dicit ad ecclesiam: Pone me ut signaculum in cor tiium, ut sigillum in brachium tuitm, hoc est: ‘Decora es, proxima mea, tota formonsa es, nihil tibi deest.’” Ambrose, De mysteriis 7.37, 40-41, CSEL 73:106.

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The interiora mysteria refer to the Eucharist, to which the baptized will proceed, and which Ambrose will explain in the following catechetical sermon. Note also his treatment of the “daughters of Jerusalem.” For Ambrose, in general, the role of the daughters of Jerusalem in the Song of Songs is that of a literary chorus, who may represent various groups as the need arises. In his little marriage drama, referenced earlier in the paper, they represent matrons of Milan. Here, the convention would have been to make them maidens, bridesmaids, following the bride, as in Psalm 44 and other commentaries (cf. Origen), or in liturgical texts. Ambrose makes them instead the souls of the faithful already baptized, who by grace keep the Church beautiful and lovable. They attend the baptism of her new members; they are almost, one might say, counsellors to the Bride. Three ideas run through this section. First, the perfection that comes from the sacraments is the same in kind as the definitive perfection of eternal life. Consequently, though the innocence of baptism must be maintained with fidelity until the end and brought to perfection, it is essentially the same in this life and in the next. Second, the bridegroom of the Church is the fully divine and glorified Christ; this is the Nicene faith. Third, the Church is identified with each and every individual baptized soul. They are the Church; she is the baptized. These three ideas—the efficacious perfection of baptism, the divinity of Christ, and the total identification of the individual Christian with the Church—are the hallmarks of Ambrose’s ecclesiology. The third example shows Ambrose in sections 16 and 17 of his Expositio on Psalm 118 describing the beauty of the Church. Before considering these passages, I would like to point out that Psalm 118 itself is dedicated to praise of the Law of the Old Testament; it is the longest psalm in the Psalter divided alphabetically into 22 stanzas of eight lines each. In his commentary, Ambrose introduces the Song of Songs as a parallel to Psalm 118: the opening verses of the Song are aligned to stanza 1; the final verse of the Song provides a commentary on the final verses of the psalm. The arrangement is, therefore, intentional. Ambrose considers the Song to be an interpretive lens through which to view the meaning of the psalm; it is Ambrose’s way of commenting on the precepts of the Old Law and the fulfillment of them brought by the person of Christ in the sacramental economy of the New Law. In sections 16 and 17 of his Commentary, as in the Song, the praises of the Bride go from head to toe and back again: the eyes, teeth, cheeks, hair, feet, navel, breasts, neck, and head all pass in review. Commenting on her feet as she dances, Ambrose says:

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And perhaps, when she [the Church] speaks wisdom among the perfect, she is beautiful in her higher members. But, when men of inferior status and learning follow the Word, when they do not forget the articles of the faith, when they keep the precepts of the bishop, then she is beautiful in her sandals. Often, the clergy fall into error, the bishop changes his mind, the wealthy side with an earthly prince of this world, [yet] the people keep the right faith.21

Ambrose may have been thinking of Easter, 386. Commenting on the phrase: “Your navel is a rounded bowl that never lacks mixed wine. Your belly is a heap of wheat, encircled with lilies” (Sg 7:2), Ambrose says: Indeed this whole description of the members of the Church is full of beauty and praise. For, her navel is praised “like a mixing bowl, well turned, that never lacks blended wine.” This is because it is well versed in every teaching, in the fullness of knowledge, and it is never lacking in spiritual drink. Her belly is not only like a heap of wheat, that is of the strong food enriched from the heavenly mystery, but it is also filled with the sweetness of moral teachings, as if [surrounded] by lilies.22

The wine and wheat symbolize the Eucharist, which Ambrose names by the customary circumlocution, “the heavenly mystery”; he also intertwines his signature reference to the Scriptures as containing the stronger food of mystical teaching and the sweeter food of moral teaching. The Scriptures and the sacraments are inseparable, though distinct. Thus Ambrose gave his own Church of Milan and future generations a compelling vision of the Church that is both mystical and realistic: the individual baptized soul, rooted in the sacramental economy, is the Church, black at times but always beautiful. This was a powerful image the ordinary people of Milan could understand and integrate as the baptized Christians 21

“Et fortasse, quando sapientiam inter perfectos loquitur, speciosa est in superioribus membris; quando autem etiam inferioris status aut doctrinae homines uerbum secuntur, fidei seriem non obliuiscuntur, sacerdotis praecepta custodiunt, speciosa est in calciamentis. plerumque clerus errauit, sacerdos mutauit sententiam, diuites cum saeculi istius terreno rege senserunt: populus fidem propriam reseruauit.” Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 17.18, CSEL 62:386. 22 “Denique tota ista descriptio membrorum ecclesiae plena decoris et laudis est. nam et umbilicus eius tamquam crater tornatilis praedicatur mixto non deficiens (Sg 7:2), eo quod in omni doctrina tornatus plenitudine cognitionis et potu non deficiat spiritali et uenter eius non solum aceruo tritici, id est cibis fortioribus caelestis mysterii saginetur, uerum etiam tamquam liliis quibusdam moralium suauitate repleatur.” Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 17.20, CSEL 62: 387-388.

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of Ambrose’s church. It was an image that ennobled them, energized them, and showed them their true and eternal identity as loved by God and destined to eternal happiness with the heavenly Bridegroom.

Conclusion If we wish to understand what happened at Easter 386, we need to look, in part at least, to Ambrose in his role as pastor and guide for his people. This role is beautifully encapsulated in the image of the Bride that he brought into his ordinary preaching week after week in the church at Milan. The political complexities of the imperial city where Church and State would inevitably clash were real, but for the ordinary citizen of Milan, these were not a matter of life and death. It would be a mistake to see the actions of the people of Milan merely as popular support for a charismatic bishop. Assuredly it was that, but the Nicene Christians of Milan were also responding to their vision of the Church and their own role within it as a community united by the highest truths and the most precious of bonds, which over the course of years Ambrose had formed within them. In standing by their bishop, they supported a man whom they could trust to have a real understanding of the nature and hopes of their lives; he did not propose an impossible ideal but rather a vision of the Church within their reach. This realism is represented by the humanistic side of Ambrose’s use of the Song of Songs. The ease with which he refers to it and comments upon it, his serenity and personal integration all were significant aspects of his charism and his appeal. He knew how to please and to persuade by means of delight.23 Remember that Augustine was drawn to Ambrose and charmed by his rhetoric long before he paid close attention to the content of his sermons.24 Even we are surprised and delighted to see the bishop so at home and so eloquent in the company of the Bride and Bridegroom, so at ease with the ordinary joys of human love. This too inspired confidence and trust in the hearts of his Milanese congregation. Finally, in his handling of the story and imagery of the Song, Ambrose brought the fruits of his classical culture and the lessons in interpretation gleaned from the Christian writers who preceded him into an idiom that late antique Christians could understand, use, and imitate. He became an allimportant link in the chain that led to the Christian centuries when the Song 23 “Sanctus quoque Ambrosius lactei serrnonis emanator, cum gravitate acutus, inviolenta persuasione dulcissimus; cui fuit aequalis doctrina cum vita quando ei non parvis miraculis gratia divinitatis arrisit” (Cassiodorus, Inst. 1.20). 24 et delectabar sermonis suavitate (Augustine, Conf. 5.13).

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of Songs was one of the books of Scripture most widely known and dearly loved. Looking back from the Middle Ages, we see the process already at work in Ambrose. Thus, as we admire the Bishop of Milan in his adroit handling of the crisis of 386 and the other complex political challenges of his life, we gain greater insight into his success if we remember the interior man, the other side of Ambrose represented in part by his interest in the Song of Songs. It was this other side that so fascinated Augustine, that rallied the people of Milan, and that gave to future generations the ideal image of a pastoral and holy bishop.

CHAPTER SIX AMBROSE’S EXEGESIS OF THE PSALMS: A BISHOP FORMING THE COMMUNITY AROUND CHRIST THE TEACHER DAVID VOPěADA

Ambrose paid much attention to the psalms. Not only were his works (and similarly also his preaching) intertwined with psalm quotations, but two entire works were dedicated to the psalms. One of them, the Commentary on Psalm 118, is the most extensive of Ambrose’s works, consisting of twenty-two books; the other one is the ample Commentary on Twelve Psalms.1 However, it is not easy to preach on the psalms, as every preacher who tried that knows. The question comes: Why did Ambrose do this? Moreover, why did he do this so gladly and wholeheartedly? What role did his preaching on the psalms and their exegesis play as regards building the community? What is more, Ambrose speaks very often of Christ the Teacher. It looks as if Ambrose followed the ancient philosophical tradition of a community of disciples who search for the truth together with their teacher.2 In a Christian community, the bishop does not try to be in the spotlight of his listeners’ attention. Instead, Ambrose desires to bring his audience to Christ himself, who is the true and only Teacher of his disciples.

1

In this chapter, the following editions of Ambrose’s works have been used: Commento a dodici salmi, ed. and trans. L. F. Pizzolato, SAEMO 7/8 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 1980); Commento al Salmo 118, ed. and trans. L. F. Pizzolato, SAEMO 9/10 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 1987). I have used the following English translations of these works: Commentary of Saint Ambrose on the Twelve Psalms, trans. Í. M. Di Riain (Dublin: Halcyon Press, 2000); Homilies of Saint Ambrose on Psalm 118, trans. Íde Ní Riain (Dublin: Halcyon Press, 1998). This chapter has been funded by the Czech Science Foundation as the project GA ýR P401/12/G168, “History and Interpretation of the Bible.” 2 Plato, Epistle 7.340c-341d, ed. J. Burnett (Oxford, 1903).

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Mystagogy: Preaching through the Beauty Beauty and poetry are two words that define Ambrose as a preacher and author. Even his theology becomes poetry. It is most evident in Ambrose’s famous hymns, but the poetic style is not limited to these hymns. Jacques Fontaine said that the traces of poetry in Ambrose’s texts are “a type of public exercise of the spiritual worship” and a literary means that helps the audience to participate in the delectatio beatitudinis; i.e., in the enjoyment of the blessedness.3 Ambrose tries to see the world with the eyes of God; he tries to grasp the beauty, the goodness, and the usefulness of creation, and this is the starting point of his exegesis.4 In fact, it is not only Ambrose’s literary style we speak about; the poetic style stems from Ambrose’s soul, his education, and his interior life nourished by the meditation of the Word of God. Ambrose adopts the poetic language of the Scriptures and of the classical authors and becomes a poet-theologian.5 His preaching was inserted in the liturgy between the reading of the Word of God in the church and the chanting of the hymn that prolonged and concluded the sermon. Brian Dunkle in his book, Enchantment and Creed in the Hymns of Ambrose, argued that “Ambrose hoped to enchant the singers with words and music, joining the congregation not simply in a common creedal profession but also in a collective ‘imaginary' that would perceive both nature and Scripture through a shared lens.”6 However, this is true also of Ambrose’s two commentaries on the psalms. Ambrose’s teaching, as well as his hymns, shaped a new, “sacramental vision” acquired by the Christians who were initiated into the world of faith through baptism. 7 In fact, Ambrose’s biblical exegesis is not a mere transfer of information or teaching as we understand it today; it is not only an explanation of the immediate meaning of the biblical text. His reading of the Bible is mystagogical as it is not limited to moral exhortation, but it draws the listener to the mystery of Christ. In this way, Ambrose’s exegesis 3

J. Fontaine, “Prose et poésie: l’interférence des genres et des styles dans la création littéraire d’Ambroise de Milan,” in “Ambrosius Episcopus”: Atti del congresso internazionale di studi ambrosiani nel XVI centenario della elevazione di Sant’Ambrogio alla cattedra episcopale, Milano, 2-7 Dicembre 1974, ed. Giuseppe Lazzati, Studia Patristica Mediolanensia 7 (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 1976), 1:151. 4 P. Siniscalco, “Poesia e religiosità nel IV discorso di Ambrogio sulla creazione,” Studi Storico-Religiosi 1 (1977): 100. 5 B. P. Dunkle, Enchantment and Creed in the Hymns of Ambrose of Milan (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016), 2. 6 Dunkle, Enchantment and Creed, 8. 7 Dunkle, 3.

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gets the audience close to Christ and thus transforms his listeners who share one common place in Christ.8 Actually, the psalms played a prominent role both in the liturgy and in the aesthetic theology, poetic culture, and stylistic originality of Ambrose.9 In this way, Ambrose shows the place of the psalms in the lives of Christian believers, the young and the old, of a higher as well as a lower social status in the various situations of their daily lives: The day, at its rising, joyfully utters a psalm; and, at its setting, re-echoes a psalm. The Apostle did not permit the women to sing in church, yet, they too sing psalms. Such singing is sweet at every age and suited to either sex.10

The bishop of Milan then enumerates a long list of old and young men, young girls, and even children; if the psalms can be good enough for kings and emperors, they can be suitable for anybody. The audience was drawn into the psalms to see the benefits that their singing can bring to them: a joyful heart, freedom from temptations, harmony of the community, and delight.11 Much of the fascinating poetic language of the psalms got lost in their translation from Hebrew to Latin, but the beauty of the psalms still touched the Latin-speaking audience. What is more, thanks to them, Ambrose was not the only preacher of the Word in the Church anymore; anyone who sang the psalms and his hymns became, in a sense, also a preacher to himself and a participant of the heavenly praise of the angels.12 Ambrose was convinced that the person who sees the fullness of the divine life can express it only through poetry; this is the only way to preserve that essential beauty.13 The beauty expressed in the biblical poetry (delectatio, gratia delectationis) does not produce only aesthetic emotions. The beauty of the psalms uncovers the original beauty of creation and becomes a stimulus to man’s reconciliation with God and with himself. It also involves the moral profile of men and women, as Ambrose said at the beginning of his Commentary on Psalm 1: “Enjoyment of future bliss was

8

Dunkle, 7. Cf. Basil, Epistle 207.3-4. 10 Ambrose, Explanatio Psalmorum XII 1.9, SAEMO 7: 46. 11 Ambrose, Expl. Ps. 1.9 (SAEMO 7: 46): “Diei ortus psalmum resultat, psalmum resonat occasus. Mulieres apostolus in ecclesia tacere iubet, psalmum etiam bene clamant; hic omni dulcis aetati, hic utrique aptus est sexui. 12 H. Leeb, Die Psalmodie bei Ambrosius (Wien: Herder, 1967); J. Fontaine, “Prose et poésie,” 137 and 163. 13 L.F. Pizzolato, La dottrina esegetica di sant’Ambrogio (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 1978), 128. 9

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the highest motive [or incentive] God put to us for the practice of virtue.”14 The psalm becomes an instrument of completing a divine plan; it opens a way of progress for anybody and a “remedy for man’s health.”15 When commenting on the psalms, Ambrose tries to help his audience to share this eschatological enjoyment and, through this aesthetic, to taste the heavenly blessedness to which they are invited. At the same time, the beauty of his sermons also expresses how pleasant it is to be with God in the present moment.16 The task of the preacher was to move his listeners. Having this in mind, Ambrose used the splendor of Christ revealed in the Psalter as an incentive to push his listeners towards the desire to know him. “It follows that it belongs to our very nature to love what gives pleasure,”17 Ambrose asserts. That is also why the style of Ambrose’s two commentaries on the psalms acquires its poetic character not only from the biblical text but also from the heart of Ambrose and from his pastoral intention: A psalm is a blessing for the people; it gives God praise; in a psalm the people utter God’s praises and all the universe claps its hands; it is our universal tongue; it is the voice of the Church, a sweet outpouring of faith. It is a devotion divinely ordained; it is the joy of freedom, the cry of heart’s delight; it is a leaping and jumping for joy.18

Ambrose understands a psalm not only as a place of worship but as a ‘place’ of encounter of God and man, which the believer can almost physically feel in the forgiveness of his sins: “God loves not only to be praised in song but also, in song, to be reconciled with us.”19 In fact, it is not only an encounter; Ambrose follows Origen’s doctrine of the conception of the Word in the soul of the believer, and he applies it to the psalms. He is even convinced that “in the psalms, Jesus is born to us.”20 In this way, a remedy (i.e., the salvation), comes to each man, whose “human condition . . . tends to go 14

Ambrose, Expl. Ps. 1.1 (SAEMO 7: 38); Pizzolato, La dottrina esegetica, 117– 118. 15 L.F. Pizzolato, La dottrina esegetica, 118–19. 16 J. Fontaine, “Prose et poésie,” 141. 17 Ambrose, Expl. Ps. 1.2 (SAEMO 7: 40): “Naturalis igitur delectation est.” 18 Ambrose, Expl. Ps. 1.9 (SAEMO 7: 44): “Et uere; psalmus enim benedictio populi est, dei laus, plebis laudatio, plausus omnium, sermo uniuersorum, uox ecclesiae, fidei canora confessio, auctoritatis plena deuotio, libertatis laetitia, clamor iocunditatis, laetitiae resultatio.” 19 Ambrose, Expl. Ps. 1.5 (SAEMO 7: 40): “Delectatur igitur cantico deus non solum laudari, sed etiam reconciliari.” 20 Ambrose, Expl. Ps. 1.8 (SAEMO 7: 44): “In psalmis itaque nobis non solum nascitur Iesus . . . .”

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downhill and is very liable to change direction. It rushes where it feels inclined to go, turning either to the study of virtue or to the fascination of vice.”21 Moreover, the remedy of this condition of humankind is present in several psalms interpreted by Ambrose: In the Book of Psalms you have all these things [sc. the same ones present in the Law], and a sort of medicine for the healing of the human race. Anyone who reads this book has the means of curing, by special remedy, the wounds of his own passions. Anyone who has a mind to discern will be like someone in a public gymnasium for souls or a sports ground for the practice of the virtues.22

Now, it is clear that the poetic character of the commented work would, to some extent, get mirrored in its commentary. The influence of the psalms on Ambrose’s commentaries goes even further. Ambrose’s texts try to follow the style of the psalms on the level of the vocabulary, the rhythm, and the sequence of the language describing the ideas in harmony with those of the psalms. In this way, the bishop’s style is very close to a liturgical prayer or a hymn.23 Ambrose makes his words an echo of the words of the psalmist; he even repeats those words to attract the attention of the ears and the hearts of his listeners. The center of his preaching moves from what he wants to say to the contemplation of God’s word, to which the listener fixes his attention. Ambrose then echoes the words of the psalmist: What do we mean when we say that eyes fail? We shall speak first of the physical sense, so that we may understand the spiritual. Is it not true that when we long for someone and look forward to their coming, we direct our eyes towards the place from which that person will come? . . .We must pray that the word may come to us from the Lord and that understanding be given to us.24

21

Ambrose, Expl. Ps. 47.8 (SAEMO 8: 234): “Procliuis enim et mutabilis in utrumque est humana condicio, ut quocumque intenderit eo propendat et uergat uel ad studia uirtutum uel ad inlecebram delictorum.” 22 Ambrose, Expl. Ps. 1.7 (SAEMO 7: 42): “In libro Psalmorum profectus est omnium et medicina quaedam salutis humanae. quicumque legerit, habet quo propriae uulnera passionis speciali possit curare remedio. quicumque cernere uoluerit, tamquam in communi animarum gymnasio et quodam stadio uirtutum diuersa genera certaminum repperiens . . . .” 23 J. Fontaine, “Prose et poésie,” 149–50. 24 Ambrose, Expositio Psalmi 118 11.9 (SAEMO 9: 456-58): “De corporalibus dicamus, ut intellegamus de spiritalibus. Nonne, quando aliquem desideramus et

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Ambrose tries to direct the eyes of the heart of his listeners to the revelation of the invisible God using physical and sensible images. These images do not only show the way to the intellectual understanding of the heavenly realities, but they also serve for opening the heart to prayer and contemplation.25 The image is a “poetic word” that refers to the message in more than one sense, and it is also able to communicate a spiritual, personal, and very intimate experience, which a technical language is not able to express. Such an image does not reduce the splendor of God’s action in the history of humanity as well as that of the Church and that of an individual believer. Therefore, the poetic imagery present in Ambrose’s commentaries on the psalms is not only a simple expression of rhetorical figures, tropes, or elegant language according to late antique preferences. Instead, these images become a medium of Ambrose’s biblical exegesis that grasps the meaning of the psalm and expresses it with a series of sensual images.26 In the variety of Bible quotations used by Ambrose, the listeners can find the beauty of God’s word and creation but also a logic hidden beyond the immediate and original meaning of the biblical text. Ambrose’s biblical exegesis is, in fact, poetical, and therefore beautiful. Such a language, with a wide spectrum of meanings, can touch the hearts of the listeners of various cultures and in their diverse spiritual situations, no matter how close or distant from the mystery of God they are; poetic language is approachable for the people both at the beginning of their spiritual journey or already far ahead on the way to their perfection: Anyone who sees with the mind’s eye the Word of God coming from afar and not yet plain and distinct, is seeing, as it were with interior eyes, the ship of the Word approaching his soul. Eager to see him clearly and distinctly, he hastens all the more to reach the harbor of truth, so that he may be nearest to the ship when it comes in.27 speramus adfore, eo dirigimus oculos, unde speramus esse uenturum? . . . Et nos igitur intendamus cor nostrum, ut possimus intellegere series scripturarum, et uerbum nobis uenire a domino postulemus atque intellectum dari.” 25 Ambrose, Iam surgit hora tertia, v. 3-4 (SAEMO 22: 40): “nil insolens mens cogitet, / intendat affectum precis.” 26 G. Lazzati, “Idee per una storia della poesia cristiana,” ScCat 69 (1941), 515; L. F. Pizzolato in SAEMO 10:457, n.19; R. Iacoangeli, “Anima ed eternità nel ‘De Isaac et anima’ di sant’Ambrogio,” Salesianum 65 (2003), 263. 27 Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 11.9 (SAEMO 9: 458): “Si quis de longinquo uerbum dei obtutu mentis aspexerit nondum planum atque distinctum, is uelut quibusdam oculis interioris uerbi nauigium adpropinquare animae suae cernit. Quo autem expressius uidere coeperit, eo magis quasi ad portum ueritatis festinat accedere, ut sit proximus inuehendae.”

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Let us notice how the spiritual teaching on the expectation of a man who turns towards the mystery of God finds its expression in a concrete image of “the ship of the Word” approaching the soul of a person who is trying to get to the “harbor” of the truth, where he or she shall find the “ship” coming to the port. The image of the realities that were well known to the audience (the ship, the harbor, the landing) allows the listener to enter into the logic of the image and to involve his intellectual and spiritual capabilities in his yearning for the invisible realities. The preaching, the catechesis on the waiting for God’s Word, and the exegesis of the psalm verses become an introduction to the mystery of God and to the meaning of the invisible realities; in fact, they are a mystagogy. Its function is not only to inform the audience about something, but Ambrose’s poetical language in the commentaries primarily rekindles the profound ardor and desires of one’s soul in a way similar to the hymns.28

Psalms and the Role of David Along with the element of beauty, which was dealt with above, the psalms contain also teaching, a doctrine: “In the psalms, doctrine contends with charm. While what is sung gives delight, at the same time instruction is being imparted.”29 Ambrose’s words point towards his intention as a bishop and preacher to use the psalms in his speeches: “It is a kind of game by which we learn of doctrine better than we would by formal instruction.”30 It is instruction or teaching that is the main task of the preacher, who desires to capture not only the minds of his audience, but also wants to enkindle their hearts for the mystery of Christ present in the Psalter. The education of the Christian community takes advantage of poetic images to enter the logic of the divine revelation. For the bishop, it is a “game,” which is at the same moment playful and serious. Using J. Huizinga’s expression, we can describe Ambrose the exegete of the psalms as homo ludens (playing man) as he refuses a strictly rationalist exegesis but rather prefers to ply the ears and hearts of his audience and readers with fireworks of God’s work,

28 J. Fontaine, “Prose et poésie,” 153–55, notices the profound closeness of hymn and homely in the Christian literature both of the beginnings and in the fourth century. 29 Ambrose, Expl. Ps. 1.10 (SAEMO 7: 48): “Certat in psalmo doctrina cum gratia; simul cantatur ad delectationem, discitur ad eruditionem.” 30 Ambrose, Expl. Ps. 1. 9 (SAEMO 9: 46): “Ludus quidam est iste doctrinae maioris profectus quam cum seria traditur disciplina.”

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chained together by poetical association of the key words he uses.31 In this way, the audience does not only learn, but they also have an opportunity to enter the logic of the biblical imagery and to make their imagination part of the profound logic of Ambrose’s biblical message. The playfulness present in Ambrose’s exposition follows this dynamic; it is a catechesis in its proper sense, “an amplified echo of the Word” that is left to resound in the fullness of its allusions and an expression of the spiritual experience of the author, who tries to express himself on the various levels that are available for him.32 And for Ambrose, David embodies both the aesthetic and formative aspect of the psalmody for he “was chosen by the Lord for this work of psalmody.”33 In a mysterious way, David can see the realities of the Gospel, and it is only through poetry that someone who can see the fullness of the divine life can express it; only then can the author keep the traces of that essential beauty intact.34 He is an “incarnation of the psalm”; a person who is endowed with an eschatological vision does not only announce what is to come, but he or she represents the eschatology that has already begun.35 In the Prologue of his Commentary on Psalm 118, Ambrose describes David as follows: Loud and clear as a trumpet the prophet David has proclaimed every mystery. But in this psalm [118], by its sheer beauty; he clearly sets forth the excellence of morality. All moral doctrine is sweet, but it becomes more so when to it are added the sweetness of song and the charm of psalmody.36

However, there are many more passages which express the idea that the Prophet David was taught by Christ himself. Thus, Ambrose considers David’s attitude towards learning Christ’s doctrine to be a model to follow: “David, like a good judge and discerner of truth about himself, is prepared to be taught even to the point of weariness and satiety. He is willing to be delayed even an immoderate time, to go even beyond the beyond.”37 David 31 J. Huizinga, Homo ludens. Versuch einer Bestimmung des Spielelements der Kultur (Amsterdam: Pantheon, 1939); H. Rahner, Der spielende Mensch (Einsiedeln: Johannesverlag, 1978). 32 J. Fontaine, “Prose et poésie,” 148; F. M. Genuyt, “La polyphonie des langages religieux,” Lumière et vie 22, 113 (1973), 27-38. 33 Ambrose, Expl. Ps. 1.6 (SAEMO 7: 42); Pizzolato, La dottrina esegetica, 117. 34 Pizzolato, La dottrina esegetica, 128. 35 Ambrose, Expl. Ps. 1.19; 36.59; 38.38, SAEMO 7: 56, 222, 374. 36 Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 prol.1, SAEMO 9: 54. 37 Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 4.13 (SAEMO 9: 180): “David quasi bonus sui iudex atque arbiter prope usque ad fastidium uult doceri et uel superfluo inmorari tempore quam necessarium ordinem praeterire.”

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is a “perfect prophet” who makes sure that a psalm also becomes an expression of a harmonious unity of the Church and thus also a privileged place of prayer of the Christian community.38 David becomes an example of a man who searches for the knowledge of the divine realities; he devotes the entire night to a real “study,” ready to sacrifice even the sleep of the body to the knowledge of God. The same could be applied to Ambrose himself, as his biographer Paulinus recalls. 39 This knowledge can be acquired through prayer, tears, and confession of one’s faults.40

The Psalms and Teaching the Law As mentioned, it is one of the primary duties of a bishop to teach. The first glance at his Commentary on Twelve Psalms and Commentary on Psalm 118 would confirm that it is the bishop who teaches the doctrine present in those writings. However, a closer look offers a different answer. Ambrose, as a mystagogue, uses the text of Psalms to introduce his Church to the true Teacher. In fact, he is well aware of Jesus’ words that his disciples must not allow themselves to be called teachers since they have only one Master.41 Therefore, at the beginning of De officiis, Ambrose confesses that he does not dare to assume the duty to teach as there is one true Teacher of humility, who invites people to learn from him; i.e., from Christ. 42 Similar to Ambrose’s deference, David asks God to make him a teacher in his psalms: But no one can express a hymn with sincerity unless he has first learnt the statutes of God, and learnt them from the Lord God himself. Therefore David asks specially that God would teach him; for he had heard and known in spirit “there is one master” and therefore he asked him to be his teacher everywhere, so that he might learn his statutes from God himself.”43

38 Ambrose Expos. Ps. 118 10.32 (SAEMO 9: 432); Expositio evangelii secundum Lucam 7.238 (SAEMO 12: 274); Pizzolato, La dottrina esegetica, 129. 39 Paulinus of Milan, Vita Ambrosii 38.2 (ed. Bastiaensen, 102): “Orandi enim adsiduitas magna die ac nocte. Nec operare declinabat scribendi propria manu libros . . . .” 40 Cf. Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 7.31, SAEMO 9: 302. 41 Matthew 23:8. 42 Ambrose, De officiis 1.1.1, SAEMO 13: 22. 43 Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 22.18 (SAEMO 10: 406): “Ideo hoc specialiter Dauid petit, ut eum doceat deus; audierat enim et cognouerat in spiritu, quia unus magister est, et ideo ubique ipsum doctorem fieri postulabat, ut ab ipso disceret iustificationes eius.”

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Being a part of the Scriptures, the psalms are also part of the Law. Although the knowledge of the Law is an essential element of one’s journey to the fullness of the truth, for Ambrose, this is not sufficient, as he shows in his Commentary on Psalm 118: According to the Apostle the Law is to us like a teacher of little children until we come to a more mature age, so to speak, of perfect faith. In the Law there are commandments, justifications, testimonies, ordinances and precepts. Let us, then, find life in the Law, for on that account the Apostle said: “The Law is not based on faith, but whoever keeps it finds life in keeping it.”44

The value of the Law, and of all the Old Testament, is conditioned by its relation to the reality of the Gospel to come. It does not bring justification “in reality” but serves only “as a figure and an image, not truth.” Ambrose values the Old Testament as a step to come to fullness and perfection,45 which is how he understands the meaning of the Law especially in Psalm 118, which offers great praise to the Law. In this way, Ambrose’s spiritual exegesis, learned from Philo and Origen, can be justified. The Law has its place in the formation of a perfect man, i.e., of someone who knows the Gospel: And so the Prophet goes on to say, “How I love your Law, Lord, it is my meditation all day.” This is the voice of someone diligent and zealous to know the Law. This is the voice of the Law that teaches the perfection of man, that perfection which is the very heart and gist of this whole psalm. Since the psalmist knew that the greatest commandment in the Law is to love the Lord our God with all our heart and soul, he wants us whom he so earnestly instructs to imitate him and be perfect.46

That is the reason why the Jewish interpretation of the Scripture is not enough for Ambrose: “The Jewish scribes lay claim to doctrine because they 44

Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 12. 34 (SAEMO 10: 42): “Lex secundum apostolum paedagogus est paruulorum, donec ad perfectae fidei maturiorem quandam ueniamus aetatem. In lege autem mandata sunt, iustificationes, testimonia, iustitiae, praecepta; uiuificamur ergo in lege, unde apostolus ait: ‘Lex autem non est ex fide, sed qui facit illam uiuet in ea.’” 45 The interpretation of the Law as the prophecy of the future realities and as pedagogical means can be seen already in Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses 4.15.1 (SC 100: 548). 46 Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 13.3 (SAEMO 10: 60): “Diligentis circa studium cognoscendae legis haec uox est, quae instruit perfectionem hominis, quam totus hic psalmus informat.”

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were the first to receive the Law and the prophets. They profess to teach, but do not teach.”47 That is why it is necessary for him to look for another Teacher, to understand what the Jews do not understand. He lets himself be guided by Jesus and invites his listeners and readers to do the same: And so in those people there was a foreshadowing, in us there is the truth. Let us therefore commit our journey to the leadership of the Lord Jesus, who first introduced the Law, and who in former times through Jesus, son of Nun, handed over to the chosen people the land that was promised to them. . . . So let us walk according to the doctrine of the Law, and let God’s Law be our way.48

Ambrose, like Jesus himself, does not abolish the Law but he uses it; the Christians are the real heirs of the Law according to God’s promise. Taught by Jesus, the Christian believer learns his doctrine and in Jesus he finds the “love of the Law”: “But whoever loves the Lord loves also his law; like Mary loving her Son and treasuring all his words in her heart, pondering them with motherly affection.” 49 It is only in this sense that the bishop invites his audience to walk according to the Law, showing them that, together with Prophet David, they should be taught from the Lord in person with the perfect teaching of the Spirit in order to be “lifted to the state of a perfect man, to the measure of the full maturity of Christ.”50 Now we can understand why Ambrose does not fear to teach on the “way of the Law” to arrive at perfection together with his Church. His teacher Jesus is the end of the Law, its fulfillment and its fullness.51

47

Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 13.10 (SAEMO 10: 68): “Doctrinam profitentur scribae Iudaeorum, quia legem et prophetas ipsi priores habere meruerunt. Sed illi profitentur docere, sed non docent.” 48 Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 5.6 (SAEMO 9: 200-202): “Itaque in illo populo typus fuit, in nobis ueritas. Nos igitur committamus iter nostrum ductui domini Iesu, qui legem primo introduxit et antea per Iesum terram repromissionis in possessionem populo suo dedit. . . . uia nobis lex dei sit.” 49 Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 13:3 (SAEMO 10: 60): “Sed qui diligit dominum legem eius diligit, sicut Maria diligens filium omnia uerba eius in corde suo materno conferebat affectu.” 50 Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 5.6; 13.11, SAEMO 9: 202; 10: 184; Epistle 65.7, SAEMO 20: 184. 51 Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 16.36, SAEMO 10: 202.

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Christ the True Teacher The Law is obviously not enough for Ambrose. It is only God who teaches and illuminates the intellect of everyone and pours the brightness of the knowledge into him. Through his exegesis of the psalms, composed by David, Ambrose teaches his Church the way to come into contact with the only and true Master. And again, it is the task of his biblical exegesis to make this doctrine of the “Teacher of mankind” resound and make it approachable for his audience by elucidating the more obscure prophecies and other biblical texts: How could David seek another master when he himself called God “the teacher of mankind”? God teaches, and enlightens every mind, pouring in the light of knowledge, provided, of course, that you open your heart’s door to receive heaven’s light. When you are in doubt, enquire diligently, “for he who seeks, finds, and to him who knocks it is opened.” In the prophecies of Scripture there is much that is obscure but if, with the hand of the mind as it were, you knock on the door of Scripture, and if you carefully examine what lies hidden, little by little you will begin to piece together the meaning of the words. The Word of God and none other will open the door to you. . . . The Lord Jesus alone, by means of his own Gospel, has made plain the enigmas of the prophets and the mysteries of the Law. He alone brought down the key of knowledge and gave it to us.52

God’s teaching can be found both in the Old and the New Testament. Even the Old Testament books contain teaching, and the exegetical tradition of the Fathers is convinced that it is Jesus himself who speaks and acts in the books of the Old Testament. That is why Ambrose says that “the Law teaches us”53 even if he refers to the Law contained in the psalms. The role of the Old Testament is that of a pedagogue whose task is to bring someone who searches for God to Christ.54 But the Law offers only the first phase of personal formation in the course of a long journey that leads to perfection. Its only function is to bring a person to the true and only Master who is Christ. In this sense, Ambrose interprets David’s attitude during the composition of his psalms. The object of the doctrine contained in the psalms is the mystery of Christ, true God and true man. In fact, we should not forget the historical-religious climate of Ambrose’s days in Milan, where a strong party of Arians who denied the Nicene profession of Christ’s divinity was present. 52

Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 8.59, SAEMO 9: 374. Ambrose, Expl. Ps. 1.7 (SAEMO 7: 42): “lex docet.” 54 Ambrose, Ep. 65.5, SAEMO 20: 182. 53

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Ambrose observes how difficult it is for a teacher to teach something that he has never seen. For the pupil it would be difficult to be taught by somebody who does not have direct experience of the subject he teaches:55 He (sc. David) shows that men cannot teach what is divine; and therefore those who presume to teach do not know what they teach, but the disciple being taught knows.56 As I have already emphasized, David tends towards the only Master who can teach such realities because he is the only Teacher of all. Christ the Teacher is not only an example to follow, but his teaching is much more essential. It allows men to see beyond, to see not only the invisible realities but also those not yet completed. David, taught by Christ, can see the justification of the Lord, achieved in his Passion, as something that has already happened and what, for him, is already a reality.57 The bishop leads his assembly to Christ, the True Master who “gathers his Church by the Cross” to be taught “from him who wanted to teach us what would be conducive to our salvation, and who says to us: ‘Learn from me.’”58 For anybody, Christ is the only Teacher who can teach both the mystical sense; i.e., God’s judgements impossible to penetrate and moral knowledge: Therefore he [sc. David] said: “Teach me your judgements.” They are, as the Apostle says, “impossible to penetrate.” Therefore unless Christ taught him he could not have known them, because Christ is the one Teacher of all.59

The person who wants to learn the true knowledge and the judgments of God can learn only if he or she “has always stretched forth his soul towards the Lord” and if the Bride (i.e., the Church or the soul), lets herself be embraced by the Bridegroom, who is “the Word of God and the Wisdom.” Only in this way can one arrive at happiness.60 This is what Ambrose desires to transmit through his commentaries on the psalms. It is not only his knowledge that he wants to communicate, but he also wants to draw his 55

Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 8.59, SAEMO 9: 374. Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 13.12 (SAEMO 10: 70): “Ostendit igitur, quod diuinum est homines docere non posse; et ideo qui docere praesumunt nesciunt, sed agnoscit discipulus qui docetur.” 57 Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 8.57 and 59, SAEMO 9: 370, 374. 58 Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 14.20, SAEMO 10: 104-106. 59 Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 14.28, SAEMO 10: 114-16): “Denique ideo dicebat: ‘Et iudicia tua doce me,’ quia iudicia dei sicut abyssus multa et inscrutabilia, ut Apostolus dicit. Ideo non poterat ea nisi Christo docente cognoscere, quia unus magister omnium Christus est.” 60 Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 14.28-29, SAEMO 10: 168. 56

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listener and reader to the direct experience of the teaching of Christ, who is the Word of God and Wisdom. One learns the true doctrine of Christ through the reading of the Gospel, and it is only in this way he also learns Christ’s attitudes, his virtues, and his perfection.61

Conclusion Coming back to the questions we posed at the beginning of this chapter, we can grasp why Ambrose exposed the psalms to his Church in the way he did. Relying on the poetic beauty of the Psalter, he tried to communicate the fact that the mystery of Christ, which he tried to convey throughout all of his episcopacy, surpasses the capacity of human intelligence and that it should be accepted wholeheartedly by the whole person of the Christian believer. He loved these psalms, and undoubtedly, he nourished his prayer, his meditation, and also his action by their recitation. That is why he unceasingly tried to enkindle the passion not only for the psalms but also for their content, interpreted in the moral and mystical; i.e., Christological way. Christ is “hidden” in the psalms as the true Teacher. It is around him that Ambrose desires to build the community of the church in Milan. That is also why the psalms become the privileged means of his intention to bring everybody to Christ, as “Christ is all for us.”62 The beauty and the formation go hand in hand in Ambrose’s exegesis. Here, his concerns for beauty and teaching come together; they form a part of a unified view Ambrose had not only of the Psalter and Christ but also of his ministry as a bishop. What is more, both these elements are contained in the mystagogy which Ambrose practices in his ministry as a bishop. This mystagogy is not limited to the baptismal catecheses, but it also penetrates his exegetical work, especially the Commentary on Twelve Psalms and the Commentary of Psalm 118. Ambrose wants to bring his Church to Christ and to gather it together in the school of Christ. This vision remains inspiring both for the ministers of the Church and for the entire body of the Church. In this way, Ambrose shows what it means for a bishop to participate in the teaching office of Christ.

61 62

Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 14.46; 20. 39, SAEMO 10: 134, 352. Ambrose, De virginitate 16.99 (SAEMO 14: 80): “omnia Christus est nobis.”

CHAPTER SEVEN A WINDOW INTO BIBLICAL CULTURE: VIRGIL’S AENEID IN AMBROSE OF MILAN’S EXPOSITIO PSALMI CXVIII ANGELA RUSSELL CHRISTMAN

To even a casual reader, one of the most striking characteristics of the homilies on Psalm 1181of Ambrose of Milan, indeed of all of his exegetical writings, is the density of his scriptural quotation and allusion. For example, in the commentary it is not unusual to have between eight and twelve scriptural quotations or allusions (and sometimes more) in a single page. Moreover, these multiple quotations and allusions are not simply juxtaposed, cheek by jowl, but are woven together so seamlessly into his discourse that, as Gérard Nauroy put it, Ambrose sounds “like the biblical text itself.”2 2But Ambrose’s sermons are even more complex, because phrases and images from classical literary and philosophical texts—from Virgil, Cicero, Plotinus, and others—are effortlessly worked into this intricate fabric of biblical quotations. While these citations are not nearly as 1

Expositio Psalmi CXVIII is generally dated to the last decade of Ambrose’s life. While some have placed it roughly between 386 and 390, others have argued that it was written closer to the end of his life, from May 395 to Feb 396. See Luigi Pizzolato, ed., Sant’Ambrogio: Commento al salmo CXVIII, SAEMO 9 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 1987), 1:12–15. In either case, it is significant that the work was not written early in his episcopacy because by that time, Ambrose’s authority would have been well-established. If, as some have contended (see below), one of his primary motivations in drawing on the classical corpus was to reinforce his authority, presumably he would have had less need to do this later in his life. The number of the psalm in the work’s title is based on the numbering according to the Vulgate; in the Hebrew Bible, this is Psalm 119. 2 Gérard Nauroy, “L’Écriture dans la pastorale d’Ambroise de Milan,” in Le monde latin antique et la Bible, ed. Jacques Fontaine and Charles Pietri (Paris: Beauchesne, 1985), 404.

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numerous as those from Scripture, they are no less impressive. Nonetheless, scholars have tended to underestimate their importance, positing that Ambrose’s quotations of and allusions to such classical authors should be seen primarily as rhetorical embellishments or displays of learning aimed at shoring up his authority.33 In this essay my focus will be confined to the way in which Ambrose employs phrases from Virgil’s Aeneid, specifically in the third homily when he treats Psalm 118:21, and I will argue that these earlier judgments about Ambrose’s use of classical authors need to be reexamined. I will show that the borrowings from Virgil in the third homily are not merely literary adornment, but rather serve to illuminate and deepen the theological points Ambrose is making. Further, his rereading of Virgil should be seen as part of a larger program of Christianizing pagan images and categories, and thereby creating a new, distinctively Christian culture, one capable not only of nurturing the faithful, but also of attracting those who were not yet members of the ecclesial community. Before turning to Ambrose’s exegesis of this particular verse, however, I will offer some general comments regarding the Expositio Psalmi CXVIII and the interpretive tradition of Psalm 118. Much of the exegetical tradition dealing with Psalm 118 produced prior to Ambrose is lost to us. Although commentaries on the Psalter were written by Origen, Eusebius, Didymus, and Apollinarius of Laodicea, only fragments of these have survived. From Latin authors, we have a tractatus from Hilary of Poitiers, penned during his later years, probably between 364 and 367 AD. In the form in which we have it, it covers fifty-eight psalms, including 118, and, according to Jerome, reproduced much of Origen’s commentary.44Hilary’s exegesis of Psalm 118, although part of this larger work, was nonetheless quite detailed. Although Ambrose commented on multiple psalms (though far from the entire psalter), his Expositio, a series 3

See Mary Dorothy Diederich, “Vergil in the Works of St. Ambrose” (PhD diss., Catholic University of America, 1931), 67, 119, 126–27, and more recently, Neil McLynn, Ambrose of Milan: Church and Court in a Christian Capital (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 77, 238–39. Diederich, “Vergil,” xxi, concludes that Ambrose used Virgil primarily for the sake of embellishment. McLynn sounds another note, claiming that Ambrose drew on Cicero, Plato, Plotinus, et al., in an attempt to shore up his authority, especially in the first decade of his episcopacy. Although he does not specifically address textual borrowing from Virgil, McLynn asserts more generally that “there is no compelling reason to suppose that Ambrose’s reading ever gave him more than material with which to adorn his sermons.” 4 Marc Milhau, Hilaire de Poitiers: Commentaire sur le psaume 118 (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1988), 1.17–18.

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of homilies, one for each of the twenty-two stanzas of Psalm 118, is a discrete work and significantly longer than Hilary’s. Ambrose’s homilies on Psalm 118 contain almost 120,000 words, whereas Hilary’s interpretation of it comes to approximately 44,000.55Ambrose appears to have drawn on Origen’s commentary, but it is unclear whether he had access to Hilary’s.66 Throughout Ambrose’s Expositio Psalmi CXVIII, there are a number of references to the liturgy and to liturgical readings which suggest that the work was originally delivered as a series of homilies and later revised for publication. Moreover, it is generally agreed that Ambrose was very careful about revising his writings—everything from sermons to letters—before they were disseminated more widely.7 7As a result, while we cannot be absolutely certain what Ambrose originally preached, we can feel confident that the homily as we have it represents his considered reflection on the biblical text. The third homily on Psalm 118 treats verses 17–24,88and Ambrose first borrows from Virgil’s Aeneid in an extended discussion of the sin of pride when he takes up verse 21, “You reprove the proud; cursed are those who stray from your commandments.” Before turning to Ambrose’s discussion of this verse, however, I will briefly summarize the exegesis of Origen and Hilary. From Origen, only a fragment survives, in the Palestinian catena,99but as we shall see, it illuminates Ambrose’s reading. Origen comments:

5

By comparison, Augustine’s later treatment of Psalm 118 is slightly more than 40,000. While the number of words in Augustine’s entire corpus is about three times that of Ambrose, his exegesis of Psalm 118 is about one-third the length of Ambrose’s. See Allan Fitzgerald, “Ambrose, Paul and Expositio Psalmi CXVIII,” Augustiniana 54 (2004): 131–32. 6 For Ambrose’s debt to Origen, see Pizzolato, Sant’Ambrogio, 16ff. For the argument that Ambrose was familiar with Hilary’s work, see A. Gariglio, “Il commento al Salmo 118 in S. Ambrogio e in S. Ilario,” Atti dell’Accademia delle Scienze di Torino 90 (1955–56): 356–70. This argument is dismissed by MarieJosèphe Rondeau, Les commentaires patristiques du psautier (IIIe–Ve siècles) (Rome: Pontificum institutum studiorum orientalium, 1982), 1:153. 7 See McLynn, Ambrose of Milan, xvi–xvii; Pizzolato, Sant’Ambrogio, 9–12. 8 In the first three-fourths of the homily Ambrose discusses a variety of themes, from the reward that will be granted to those who serve God to the mystery of the Incarnation and Christ’s sacrifice on the cross; the necessity of baptism—both in water and in fire—for spiritual purity, the true temple/true law, and freedom from chains to these worldly possessions. 9 Marguerite Harl, La chaîne palestinienne sur le psaume 118 (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1972).

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For when does the adversarial power not wrestle with us? It proves to be a match for us not only when we sin willingly, but also, when we are focused upon the good and the excellent, how it fights us, to puff us up and make us haughty. But God resists the proud and gives grace to the lowly (Prv 3:34). Because of this, the greater you are, the more you must humble yourself, and then before the Lord you will find grace (Sir 3:18).1010

At the heart of this fragment from Origen is the realization that one is susceptible to the sin of pride—perhaps even most susceptible to it— precisely when one is focused on God. The significance of Origen’s remark can perhaps be seen better when we read it alongside the one other fragment on this verse in the Palestinian catena, from the fourth-century bishop Apollinarius of Laodicea. He writes that “Pride is the mother of transgression,” thereby emphasizing the way in which pride paves the way for disobedience of the commandments.11 Origen’s exegesis does not necessarily contradict this, but rather draws special attention to the way in which pride can undermine even the holiest person’s efforts to love and serve God. Also noteworthy is the imagery of wrestling and of struggling that Origen employs. Hilary’s treatment of this same verse displays clear evidence of a debt to Origen.1212Noting that pride, more than any other vice, provokes God’s anger, Hilary observes that no matter how careful one is to observe “the divine precepts,” the memory of any good that one accomplished is destroyed “when pride insinuates itself.” To illustrate this, he turns to Jesus’ parable of the Pharisee and the Publican in Luke 18. The Pharisee, remarks Hilary, strove to “set himself in the way of life, so that he would not be greedy for other’s possessions, so that he would not prove to be unjust toward anyone, so that he would not be corrupted by adulterers!” Moreover, he fasted twice a week and tithed to provide for the poor. “What is more outstanding than this? What is more difficult to accomplish?” asks Hilary. Nonetheless, the Pharisee “slipped into the trap of pride” when he disdainfully compared himself to the publican, and “having become arrogant through glorying in his own virtue, he ceded his place to the publican, who was justified more than he.” From the example of the fictional Pharisee Hilary turns to the historical Paul, noting that, the devil’s efforts notwithstanding, the thorn in the flesh described in 2 Corinthians 11

10

Harl, La chaîne palestinienne, 222, fragment “a” on Psalm 118:21, ll.1–8. Harl, 222, fragment “b” on Psalm 118:21, l.14. Augustine takes the same tack in his treatment of this verse. 12 Hilaire de Poitiers: Commentaire sur le psaume 118 (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1988), 3.14–17, 164–68. 11

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saved the Apostle from the sin of pride. Moreover, Paul’s admonition regarding the qualifications of a new bishop in 1 Timothy 3:6, “He must not be a recent convert, lest he become puffed up and fall into the condemnation of the devil,” testifies to his awareness of the risks of pride. Ambrose’s exegesis of Psalm 118:21 is similar to Hilary’s in several ways, not least in seeming to be inspired by Origen’s insight that pride is the special nemesis of those who love God and seek to abide by his commandments. At the same time, Ambrose’s exegesis of this verse is more complex than Hilary’s, and at least part of this greater complexity results from the way in which Ambrose echoes Virgil in his interpretation. Ambrose begins his treatment of verse 21 by situating the sin of pride within the framework of salvation history: “The Lord Jesus, through his obedience, redeemed the human race and re-established justice. But the serpent (serpens), through disobedience, introduced sin.”1313The preeminent place of pride among the vices is signaled by this disobedience, Ambrose asserts, because the author of pride is the devil, the one whom Isaiah described as arrogantly insisting, “I will set my throne on high and I will be like the most high” (cf. Isaiah 14:13–14). The devil “trained his disciples to be even more wicked” than he was, Ambrose adds. Quoting 2 Thessalonians 2:3–4, “When the man of lawlessness is revealed, the son of perdition, who opposes and exalts himself above every so-called god,” Ambrose remarks that while the devil assumed himself to be equal to God, his follower (i.e., the man of lawlessness) assumed he was greater. We should notice at least two things about the way in which Ambrose begins his exegesis of Psalm 118:21. First, earlier in this homily he referred to Satan with the New Testament term “devil” (diabolus), but here he also refers to him as “serpent” (serpens), an obvious allusion to Genesis 3, but in addition, a linguistic link to a Virgilian phrase he will soon employ. Second, Ambrose draws attention not only to the devil’s pride, but also to that of his follower, the man of lawlessness. From this description of Satan’s desire “to exalt himself and to rival the Most High,” Ambrose turns to Christ’s attempts to rescue human beings from “the prince of the world.”1414“Wishing to protect the human race from such a crime,” Ambrose explains, Jesus introduced the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican praying in the temple (cf. Lk 18:10). He showed that, even though the proud Pharisee

13 14

Ambrose, Expositio in Psalmi CXVIII 3.34. Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 3.34.

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possesses other good qualities, he offends more than the humble Publican, who has no virtuous deeds to his credit.1515

In what is perhaps an echo of Origen’s perceptive commentary, Ambrose acknowledges that the Pharisee surely had good intentions, but the devil has special strategies for dealing with even the most devoted of God’s followers. Paraphrasing the Pharisee’s own prayer in the Temple, Ambrose, like Hilary, describes the Pharisee’s efforts almost sympathetically: The Pharisee had labored greatly not to steal, not to be unjust, not to commit adultery! (cf. Lk 18:11) He had worked so hard not to sin in the way the Publican had, to fast twice a week, and to give a tenth of everything he had acquired! (cf. Lk 18:12)1616

Following this, Ambrose does not say, as we might expect him to and as Hilary had said, that despite the Pharisee’s remarkable virtue, he “slipped into the trap of pride.” Rather, having just marveled at the praiseworthy aspects of the Pharisee’s behavior, Ambrose trains the spotlight on his audience’s life, a move that, I suspect, caught them off guard. “Which one of us does all this?” he asks. And then, he sharpens the accusation with a second question: “How many of us have possessions whose fruits we brood over all alone (soli incubant) and whose harvest we hide away for ourselves?”1717 The phrase translated as “we brood over all alone” is an allusion to Book 6 of the Aeneid. It occurs when the Sibyl and Aeneas stand at the fork in their path in the underworld, with the right leading to Elysium and the left to Tartarus, and the Sibyl describes those who, having sought to hide their crimes on earth, now suffer the torments of Tartarus. After naming mythical figures whose offenses were especially egregious—for they had dishonored the gods—the Sibyl portrays the great mass of the guilty who had violated “the laws of pietas”:1818 15

Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 3.35. Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 3.35. 17 Pizzolato sees this as a possible indictment of those who had participated in creating an artificial grain crisis; see his commentary in Pizzolato, Sant’Ambrogio, 161, n. 65. Cf. L. Cracco Ruggini, “Ambrogio di fronte alla compagine sociale del suo tempo,” in “Ambrosius Episcopus”: Atti del Congresso internazionale di studi ambrosiani nel XVI centenario della elevazione di sant’Ambrogio alla cattedra episcopale, Milano, 2–7 dicembre 1974, ed. Giuseppe Lazzati (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 1976), 1:230– 65; McLynn, Ambrose of Milan, 272–75. 18 R. G. Austin, P. Vergili Maronis: Aeneidos Liber Sextus (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977), 193, commentary on 6.608ff. 16

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Ambrose’s use of Virgil here is not mere ornament, but rather deepens his moral critique. That is, his allusion to the Aeneid enables him to show his audience how easily they could unwittingly share in the Pharisee’s sin of pride. Although Ambrose recounts the Pharisee’s ethical achievements in an almost sympathetic fashion, anyone familiar with the parable in Luke 18 knew well that Jesus presented the Pharisee as a bad example. The temptation for Ambrose’s audience, as for anyone reading this parable, was to find themselves all too quickly looking on the Pharisee with the same condescension he had displayed toward the publican. Lest they succumb to that very pride which had undermined the Pharisee’s accomplishments, Ambrose catches them up short with his query: “Which one of us does all this?” Then, by alluding to Virgil’s Aeneid with its arresting description of the sins and punishments of those in Tartarus, he reminds his hearers of their own sins, and especially those of brooding all alone over the fruits of their possessions. Ambrose’s rhetorical move here suggests to his audience that they have even less cause for self-congratulation than the Pharisee, whose virtuous deeds were undeniable, and thus the bishop tacitly encourages them to adopt and maintain the publican’s humble attitude. Moreover, although the Sibyl had explained that those guilty of hoarding their possessions had denied a share of them to “kin and friends,” Ambrose places no limits on the Christian’s generosity, thereby implicitly expanding the notion of whom we ought to share with to include anyone in need. For those in Ambrose’s congregation who, like their bishop, had received the traditional Roman education, this verbal echo would surely have brought to mind the Sibyl’s chilling portrait of the punishments of

19

Aeneid 6.608–611, 614–615, 625–627; translation is that of Allen Mandelbaum, The Aeneid of Virgil (New York: Bantam Books, 1981), 6.808–812, 816–817, 829– 832.

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Tartarus.2020Moreover, this allusion to the Aeneid has biblical resonance, for although Ambrose does not quote 2 Peter 2:4 here, when this epistle describes God as casting the fallen angels into hell, it refers to hell as Tartarus.21 21In addition, Ambrose had already brought to mind Satan’s minions with his reference to the pride of the man of lawlessness. Thus, for those familiar with the classical and biblical passages, the connection between hell and Tartarus could have easily been made. Ambrose’s echo of the Sibyl’s description would have served not only as a chastisement against greed, but also as a warning against assuming the same stance toward the Pharisee that he had taken toward the publican, lest they find themselves, like Satan’s followers, cast into Tartarus because of their overweening pride. Thus, through his quotation of Virgil, as he expounds on the Pharisee’s sin of pride, Ambrose keeps his audience’s focus on their own sins and potential punishments, while also encouraging them to imitate the humble, penitent posture of the publican. As Ambrose continues to discuss the Pharisee, he explains that Satan, the serpent, had noticed the Pharisee’s righteous behavior and “spread over him a grave sore,2222so that, inflated with a carnal mind (mente carnis), he did not hold on to the essential thing” (cf. Col 2:19). Although the Pharisee “was not a thief, an adulterer, or unjust,” and although he gave thanks to God for this, he found himself in a wrestling match with the serpent who “bound him with heavy coils (gravibus spiris ligavit).” Moreover, the serpent lifted the Pharisee up high so that his fall would be that much greater. Ambrose concludes: “Painful is the fall that follows from pride. . . . Painful is

20 Although the traditional biblical description of hell is simply of unquenchable fire, early Christians also spoke of hell as consisting of everlasting torture. See Encyclopedia of the Early Church, 2 vols. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), 1:372. The Sibyl’s description would have given concreteness to such a notion for those who heard this verbal echo. Moreover, those who knew the Aeneid well enough might also have recognized that the Sibyl’s words “A hundred tongues,/a hundred mouths, an iron voice were not/enough for me to gather all the forms/of crime or tell the names of all the torments . . .” are themselves an echo of the introduction to the catalogue of ships in Book 2 of Homer’s Iliad. The most sophisticated of Ambrose’s hearers and readers might have recognized this “window allusion,” and if they did, their awareness of their almost innumerable sins could have been heightened even further. I am grateful to Sidney Christman for drawing my attention to this Homeric allusion in Aeneid 6. 21 The Greek New Testament uses a participle of the verb IJĮȡIJĮȡȩȦ, while the Vulgate translates this as in tartarum tradidit (“he cast [the angels] into Tartarus”). 22 Here Ambrose alludes to Satan tormenting Job in Job 2:7.

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this wrestling match with the serpent, in which he winds himself in many coils.”2323 Ambrose’s description of the serpent as binding the Pharisee with heavy coils is the second borrowing from the Aeneid in this section of the sermon. The phrase which I translated as “bound him with heavy coils,” is taken from Aeneas’ account, in Book 2, of the last days of Troy, and it is used in connection with the Trojan priest Laocoön. When the Trojans first saw the wooden horse left by the Greeks, Laocoön was one of the few who counseled caution, crying out: “Poor citizens, what wild insanity is this? Do you believe the enemy have sailed away? Or think that any Grecian gifts are free of craft? Is this the way Ulysses acts? ... Trojans, do not trust in the horse. Whatever it may be, I fear the Greeks, even when they bring gifts.”2424

As he spoke these words, Laocoön hurled his spear against the horse’s side, an action the Trojans later come to view as irreligious. After describing the perjury of Sinon, who dupes his Trojan captors into thinking that the horse should be brought within the city, Aeneas recounts the “dreadful omen” which occurred next, a scene in which Laocoön returns center stage. As the priest is “sacrificing . . . a giant bull/upon the customary altars,” two hissing snakes advance across the waves and onto shore. The pair make quick work of the sons of Laocoön, and then turn on the priest himself. Although Laocoön is armed and struggles vigorously against them, the snakes “bind [him] in mighty [coils] (spirisque ligant ingentibus)” and in the end, kill him.2525Horrified at what they have just seen, the Trojans are nonetheless 23

Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 3.35. Virgil, Aeneid 2.59–63, 68–70, trans. Mandelbaum. 25 Virgil, Aeneid 2.217, trans. H. Rushton Fairclough, modified. Although Virgil does not explicitly say that Laocoön dies, R. G. Austin argues convincingly that the priest’s death is expressed through the simile of the bull: “Virgil does not describe Laocoön’s actual death; he uses this short simile to imply it obliquely. The simile is not casually chosen: Laocoön was on the point of sacrificing a bull, and he is now himself the victim, while the escape of a victim from the altar is a frequent occurrence in accounts of prodigies.” See R. G. Austin, P. Vergili Maronis: Aeneidos Liber Secundus (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1964), 107, commentary on 24

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convinced that Laocoön was rightly punished for the prideful act of throwing his spear at the horse. Oblivious to their collective doom, they conclude that the horse should be taken inside the city’s walls. Virgil’s description of the snakes binding Laocoön in their mighty coils is the very phrase Ambrose applies to the Pharisee wrestling with the serpent Satan. Once again, this is not an example of mere literary ornament, for the interplay between Virgil’s narrative, Jesus’ parable, and Ambrose and his audience is not only fascinating but also carries theological import. Ambrose’s use of Virgil reinforces both the sermon’s moral critique and larger theological issues addressed throughout the Expositio, and it illuminates the character of the God about whom Ambrose preaches. There are at least three significant points of contact. First, the parallels between Laocoön and the Pharisee: as Virgil describes Laocoön, he is one of the few Trojans who sees the truth clearly and appears to do what is right. That is, he realizes that the wooden horse is not to be trusted. Moreover, Laocoön “is no feeble old man;” rather he is a “strong, vigorous”, “decisive” and respected religious leader.26 Nonetheless, despite his strength and wisdom, he is no match for the two snakes who attack him just as he renders sacrifice to the gods. Similarly, the Pharisee is one who in many respects does all the right things, as exemplified by his fidelity to the commandments, and Ambrose emphasizes this.2727However, the strength of his virtue does not save him from the fatal sin of pride. He is powerless to resist Satan’s wiles and to overcome the serpent’s coils, just as Laocoön was no match for the two snakes who emerged from the sea. Thus, Ambrose’s reference to the Aeneid sharpens his audience’s awareness of human helplessness in the wrestling match with Satan, a point to which I will return. Furthermore, with this second reminiscence of the Aeneid, Ambrose intensifies the warning he had already given through his reference to the Sibyl’s description of those who suffer in Tartarus. In Aeneas’ tale of Troy’s last days, it is remarkable how quickly the Trojans assume that Laocoön committed an act of hubris when he threw the spear at the horse. The gods, they reason, used the snakes to punish him for this. Equally remarkable, the Trojans seem unaware that what befalls him has anything to do with them: 26

lines 223–224; 108, commentary on at gemini in line 225; and 94–95, commentary on lines 199–227. 26 Austin, Aeneidos Liber Secundus, 44, commentary on lines 40–56. 27 In addition to passages already quoted, see Ambrose’s comment in Expos. Ps. 118 3.36: “The Pharisee was not telling a lie, indeed all that he said was the truth. . . . The Pharisee entered the temple a man of greater integrity than the publican, but he left it a condemned man.”

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they are bystanders who witness his sin and its penalty as if from a distance.28 Further, they seem blind to the reality that they will soon share in the violent judgment visited upon him. This sort of blindness is, of course, precisely what Ambrose tried to guard against earlier when he asked, “Which one of us does all this? How many of us have possessions whose fruits we brood over all alone . . . ?” The temptation for those who listen to Jesus’ parable of the Pharisee and the Publican is to assume, like Laocoön’s countrymen, that they have no part in this sin and its attendant judgment. Thus, this second quotation from the Aeneid sharpens the dialectic of humility and pride, thereby enabling Ambrose to reinforce the moral critique he had presented through the first Virgilian echo. Third, by juxtaposing Jesus’ parable and the story of Laocoön, Ambrose sets up an implicit contrast between the God of Israel and the gods of the Greco-Roman pantheon, that is, between Christianity and paganism. Thus far I have focused on the similarities between the Pharisee and Laocoön. There is, however, one major difference between the two men, and it sheds light on their respective gods. While the Pharisee was blameworthy, Laocoön was innocent. The wooden horse was precisely what Laocoön suspected, a Greek ruse, a gift not to be trusted, and throwing his spear at the great horse was no act of hubris. Moreover, when his countrymen ignored his warnings, Laocoön goes “off to his official priestly duty,” and Virgil’s description of this underscores the solemnity and “correctness of the ceremonial act.”29 29Laocoön is righteous and does not deserve the violent end he suffers. By contrast, the Pharisee is clearly culpable. Although he can list his numerous virtues, he is guilty of pride, the very sin which the psalmist counsels against in the verse Ambrose is expounding: “You reprove the proud; cursed are those who stray from your commandments.” By reminding his audience of Laocoön’s violent end, Ambrose hints at the arbitrariness of the Greco-Roman gods. There is nothing—not even the priest’s solemn act of sacrificing to them—that can change Troy’s fate. Moreover, the two snakes are agents of the gods’ decision about Troy, and Laocoön and his countrymen are helpless to know what, if anything, they might do to avert disaster. 28

28 Indeed, as R. G. Austin observes, the Trojans “acquiesce eagerly in the justice of [Laocoön’s] punishment and resolve to prove that they never dreamed of such conduct themselves.” Austin, Aeneidos Liber Secundus, 109, commentary on line 228. 29 Austin, Aeneidos Liber Secundus, 101, commentary on sollemnis in line 102.

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In contrast, the will of the God of Israel is clear. The Pharisee would have known well the psalmist’s words, “You reprove the proud,” and thus Jesus’ judgment about him is not arbitrary. As Ambrose observes, Jesus’ very purpose in telling the parable was to protect humankind from the sin of pride; that is, to make clear how one ought to live so as to please God. Further, while the two snakes in the Aeneid act on behalf of the gods, the serpent Satan is the enemy of the God of Israel, the enemy conquered by Christ who shelters humankind under the veil of the cross.30 Thus, through his reference to Laocoön’s cruel end, Ambrose subtly underscores the compassion and justice of the God of Israel and, by implication, the superiority of Christianity over paganism. As is obvious, my approach to Ambrose’s allusions to Virgil in his exegesis of Psalm 118:21 could be described as intertextual; that is, as an attempt to hear the way in which one text shapes the meaning of another through the use of allusive echo, or metalepsis. This approach naturally raises a number of issues, such as, whether Ambrose intended the reminiscences of Virgil, whether he intended them to function as I have suggested, and what portion of Ambrose’s audience would have heard these echoes. At this point I would like to make some observations about these issues before returning to the question which opened this paper. The question about Ambrose’s audience and how many of them would have recognized his allusions to Virgil is difficult to answer. William Harris estimated that in the first century BC, the literacy rate was not above 10%, and that this rate actually declined in the third and fourth centuries AD, despite Christianity’s emphasis on the written word.31 Others have disputed Harris’ judgment, arguing for example that he underestimated the number of people who would have been semi-literate; that is, able to read and write at a very basic level, enabling them to carry out economic transactions.32 Of course, since the type of literacy relevant to my concerns involves familiarity with Virgil, these objections to Harris’ estimate would not seem to be significant. Nonetheless, it should also be noted that some of 30

31

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30

Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 3.19. William V. Harris, Ancient Literacy (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1989), 22, 282. 32 See, e.g., Keith Hopkins, “Conquest by Book,” in Literacy in the Roman World, ed. Mary Beard, Alan K. Bowman, and Mireille Corbier, JRA Supplementary Series 3 (Cambridge: Journal of Roman Archaeology, 1991), 133–58. 31

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Ambrose’s audience might have been familiar with the Aeneid through public readings, and thus have recognized the Virgilian phrases.3333 Another intriguing possibility is that some of Ambrose’s congregation might have known a version of the story of Laocoön through visual imagery. We are familiar with the magnificent, if chilling, marble statue of Laocoön and his sons, now in the Vatican Museums. I am not implying that members of Ambrose’s congregation would have seen this actual statue. However, in addition to the Laocoön group, there are at least six other extant representations of this scene, and three of them are dated to the late fourth and early fifth century AD.34 Since the artistic representations that have survived are almost certainly only a small fraction of those that existed, this suggests that the story of Laocoön was a popular subject among artists. Thus, those who might not have known the actual text of Virgil might have been familiar with the basic narrative from visual representation. The congregation that heard Ambrose preach on Psalm 118 was almost surely mixed; that is, it would have included people of varying degrees of education, as well as both lay and monastic Christians.35 Thus, it seems reasonable to conclude that at least some in the bishop’s audience would have heard both of the echoes of Virgil’s Aeneid in this sermon. For others, Ambrose’s description of the Pharisee’s vain attempts to struggle against the serpent Satan may have brought to mind artistic representations of Laocoön. And of course, some may not have heard these echoes at all. Naturally, the more of these resonances any individual recognized, the deeper (at least potentially) would have been that person’s grasp of the larger theological themes being presented. But even those who heard nothing could still have understood Ambrose’s basic point about the Pharisee and heeded his warning. The other two issues I mentioned are related yet distinct: Did Ambrose intend these reminiscences of Virgil, and if so, did he intend them to function as I have suggested? My instinctive answer to both questions is yes, for several reasons. First, what we know about Ambrose’s education 34

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See, e.g., Elizabeth Clark, Reading Renunciation: Asceticism and Scripture in Early Christianity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999), 47: “And since books were often read aloud, people outside the literate classes might have been familiar with their contents.” Cf. Harris, Ancient Literacy, 226, 258, 320. 34 Austin, Aeneidos Liber Secundus, 96–99. 35 Pizzolato, Sant’Ambrogio, 15–16. See also Nauroy, “L’Écriture dans la pastorale,” and Philip Rousseau, “‘The Preacher’s Audience’: A More Optimistic View,” in Ancient History in a Modern University, vol. 2, Early Christianity, Late Antiquity and Beyond, ed. T. W. Hillard, R. A. Kearsley, et al. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 391–400.

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and his editorial habits leads me to think that these echoes are not accidental. Moreover, if Hilary’s commentary gives us a sense of Origen’s (which is not entirely certain), we can see that while Ambrose’s treatment of Psalm 118:21 appears to be inspired by Origen’s insight into the particularly insidious nature of the sin of pride, at the same time it is distinctive in the way in which it both portrays the helplessness of human beings in the face of Satan and challenges the congregation to maintain the humble attitude of the publican. The allusions to Virgil contribute to both of these dimensions that are unique to Ambrose’s exegesis.3636 Just as significant is the way in which the interplay between these Virgilian reminiscences and the scriptural passages is consistent with and indeed amplifies the theological concerns manifested throughout the homilies. The Expositio Psalmi CXVIII is a complex text. It moves through the twenty-two stanzas of Psalm 118 verse-by-verse, and woven through this progression is a verse-by-verse treatment of the Song of Songs. Moreover, Allan Fitzgerald has demonstrated the way in which, as Ambrose works his way through these two biblical texts, he “is constantly concerned with the perfection of love as found in Jesus Christ, with the mystery that lies behind the moral message,” and with “how to bring about truly Christian action and meditation.”37 As Ambrose attempts to convey these themes to his congregation and to foster in them habits of thinking and acting appropriate to members of the body of Christ, he turns repeatedly to the theological themes sounded by Paul. Thus, for example, he quotes Pauline passages to underscore the dynamic process, even the struggle, that is integral to the Christian life.38 But he also emphasizes the need for God’s grace and the human inability to do anything apart from it, through quotations from Paul as well other biblical texts. For example, Ambrose writes, 37

38

Paul, the divinely chosen vessel, the doctor of the Gentiles, says that he is the least (1 Cor 15:7), unworthy to hold the name of that office which he ranked higher than all of the works he performed. He claims nothing for 36

It is worth emphasizing that although Ambrose is indeed indebted to Origen, at the same time, he is not content simply to repeat the Alexandrian’s interpretation. Rather, he builds on it, adapting it to address the specific circumstances and cultural context of his hearers. These creative adaptations undercut the judgments of those scholars who consider Ambrose’s exegesis to be merely derivative from his sources. 37 Fitzgerald, “Ambrose,” 133–34. 38 For example, 2 Tm 4:7–8, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith; in the future there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness,” which Ambrose quotes or alludes to in Expos. Ps. 118 3.3; 4.27; 5.26; 6.30; 7.3,12; 12.41; 20.21.

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himself, but imputes all to the grace of God. Surely this is beautiful in a just man.3939

In light of this, we should note that Ambrose concludes his discussion of the Pharisee with a reference to Paul. Like Hilary before him, he considers that Paul’s thorn in the flesh prevented him from becoming prideful. Ambrose, however, also emphasizes that Satan was conquered by Christ working through Paul’s infirmities,40 thereby suggesting that the believer is saved from the serpent’s attempts to puff him up only through God’s gracious activity. This radical need for the grace of God in the face of the serpent’s attempts to fatally bind believers in the coils of pride is, of course, precisely the point which I am suggesting is conveyed by the interplay between Virgil’s account of Laocoön and Ambrose’s description of the Pharisee. Thus, Ambrose’s allusions to Virgil in this homily are not merely literary ornamentation. Rather, for those in the ecclesial community who had ears to hear them, they would have strengthened and given greater vividness to the moral and theological points the bishop was trying to convey.41 Moreover, Ambrose’s use of Virgil supports Gérard Nauroy’s argument that Ambrose seeks to establish a “biblical culture” in which classical culture, although complementary to biblical culture, is also subordinated to it. That is, Virgil’s Aeneid is put in service of the Gospel, so that it is in effect taken up into the biblical culture. Thus, the Christianization of classical images from the greatest of Latin poets becomes one of the ways in which Ambrose fosters the spiritual conversion and ongoing transformation of his hearers, and thereby the creation and nurture of Christian community. 40

41

39 Ambrose, Expos. Ps. 118 20.16 (trans. Fitzgerald). See also, Expos. Ps. 118 1.17– 18; 3.18; 19.14. 40 This is exactly Paul’s point in 2 Cor 12:9, “. . . but he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness,’” although Ambrose does not quote this verse. 41 Nauroy, “L’Ecriture dans la pastorale,” 378–80.

CHAPTER EIGHT THE (RE)CONSTRUCTION OF AMBROSE’S HYMNS BRIAN DUNKLE, S. J.

Ancient sources agree that Ambrose’s hymns were not only widely popular but also catechetically effective. Paulinus of Milan, Augustine, and Ambrose himself note the spread of both their innovative form and their doctrinal content as they captivated the Church in the West.1 Their appeal has not waned: ever since Ambrose introduced his hymns in the 380s, Christians and music lovers have found that both their teaching and their virtuosity inspire devotion and delight. Through the processes of imitation, translation, and adaption to various settings, generations have made Ambrosian hymnody their own.2 The occasion for my paper is yet a new staging of this ancient inheritance, brought to us through an arrangement by William Campbell and

1

Paulinus of Milan, Vita Ambrosii 13.3, A. A. R. Bastiaensen, ed., vol. 3 of Vite dei santi, ed. Christine Mohrman (Milan: Fondazione Lorenzo Valla, 1975), 70; Augustine, Confessiones 9.7, CCL 27.141–42; Ambrose, Epistula 75a.34, CSEL 82.3:105. 2 Ambrose’s favored iambic dimeter appears also in Byzantine hymnody (though direct influence is hard to establish); see W. Christ and M. Paranikas, Anthologia graeca carminum christianorum (Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1963), lxxxv; on German reception of the hymns, see Alexander Zerfass, Mysterium Mirabile: Poesie, Theologie und Liturgie in den Hymnen des Ambrosius von Mailand zu den Christusfesten des Kirchenjahres (Tübingen and Basel: Francke, 2008), especially 140–47 on Ambrose’s Christmas hymn. For some representative studies of reception history, see Joseph Szövérffy, A Concise History of Medieval Latin Hymnody: Religious Lyrics between Antiquity and Humanism (Leiden: Brill, 1985); Helmut Gneuss, Hymnar und Hymnen im englischen Mittelalter (Tübingen: Max Niemeyer, 1968), esp. 10–40.

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performed by the Chamber Singers of Saint Ambrose University.3 My task is to provide some background for this performance by offering a brief account of the original aims and the enduring popularity of Ambrose’s hymns. Since so many aspects of the corpus, including their origins, dating, occasion, and even their texts, remain disputed, I will have to be very selective in this presentation;4 my hope is that this overview does not get in the way of the pure enjoyment, the delectatio—to borrow a favorite term of Ambrose—of the performance itself. 5 Hence, I will pass over the most disputed aspect of the hymn corpus, the issue of attribution;6 I have my own views on this long-studied question, which I have presented in some detail elsewhere.7 For the purposes of this presentation of Ambrosian hymnody, however, we are fortunate that four of the hymns on the program may be safely attributed to the Bishop of Milan, while the fifth, “O Lux Beata Trinitas,” gives us an ancient representative example of the tradition of hymns inspired by Ambrose’s model, that is, the ambrosiana, as the Rule of St. Benedict calls them.8 I offer my remarks in two parts that are directly related to the theme of our gathering. First, the “construction” of Ambrose’s hymns: I suggest that one helpful approach to interpreting Ambrose’s hymns attends to two basic 3

A critical text of the hymns of Ambrose arranged for this performance may be found in their entirety at Jacques Fontaine, ed., Ambroise: Hymnes (Paris: Cerf, 1992; reprinted 2008), 149–51 (“Aeterne Rerum Conditor”); 185–87 (“Splendor Paternae Gloriae”); 273–75 (“Intende, Qui Regis Israel”/“Veni, Redemptor Gentium”); and 345–47 (“Illuminans Altissimus”). The text of “O Lux Beata Trinitas” is available with commentary in Arthur S. Walpole, Early Latin Hymns (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1922), 289–91. 4 The indispensable source for research on the hymns remains Fontaine, Hymnes, which includes an extended introduction by the editor and introductions/commentaries by prominent scholars for the fourteen hymns most reliably attributed to Ambrose. 5 Jan den Boeft, “Cantatur ad Delectationem: Ambrose’s Lyric Poetry,” in Poetry and Exegesis, Poetry and Exegesis in Premodern Latin Christianity, ed. Willemien Otten and Karla Pollman (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 81–97, and Jacques Fontaine, Naissance de la poésie dans l’occident chrétien (Paris: Études augustiniennes, 1981), 22; for background to the hymns, see Brian Dunkle, S.J., Enchantment and Creed in the Hymns of Ambrose of Milan (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016); this essay depends heavily on the argument of that book. 6 See Fontaine, Hymnes, 93–107, for an overview of the issues. Note that recent scholarship has tended to identify more hymns as authentically Ambrosian than previous studies maintained; see Dunkle, Enchantment and Creed, 11–12, for a brief discussion. 7 Dunkle, Enchantment and Creed, 10–12, for an overview. 8 Regula of St. Benedict 9.4, SC 182.510; 12.4, SC 182.518; 13.11, SC 182.520; 17.8, SC 182.528.

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features of their composition, namely, their attempt to charm or enchant a congregation as well as their use of creedal language. I will lay out this interpretive framework before I consider one of the hymns on our program, “Aeterne Rerum Conditor,” to serve as a case study. In the second part of my essay, I engage the issue of the “reconstruction” of Ambrosian hymnody. I propose that reflection on new arrangements should look past some of the superficial elements of Ambrosian hymns (such as metrical form, the place of rhyme, or even the text itself) to focus on Ambrose’s basic principles of construction. By aiming to balance “reenchantment” with catechesis by means of Ambrose’s austere, meditative style, we may pursue an authentic retrieval of the bishop’s mystagogical and theological approach.9

The Construction of Ambrosian Hymns What inspired Ambrose to compose hymns? While he could have drawn some inspiration from his predecessors in the Latin West, especially the musical compositions of Hilary of Poitiers (ca. 315–368) and the philosophical verse of Marius Victorinus (281/291–post-365), his surviving corpus resembles these earlier efforts at only the most superficial level. Unlike Hilary, Ambrose employs a metrical form that can appeal to a broad, and often unlettered, audience;10 unlike Victorinus, Ambrose composes in Scriptural and sensual vocabulary rather than in philosophical terminology.11 Hence, while Ambrose was not the first to promote Nicene doctrine through hymnody, his effort was uniquely constructed to ensure the wide appeal of his songs. To achieve that popularity, Ambrose employed many of the same techniques that characterize his preaching, especially the mystagogical sermons that he delivered to neophytes.12 Both song and mystagogy aim broadly at the work of “enchantment.” I take this term in an expansive sense, 9

On “reenchantment,” see Charles Taylor, “Disenchantment—Reenchantment,” in George Levine, ed., The Joy of Secularism: 11 Essays for How We Live Now (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2011), 57–73. 10 For comparison with Hilary, see Jacques Fontaine, Naissance de la poésie dans l’occident chrétien: Esquisse d’une histoire de la poésie latine chrétienne du IIIe au VIe siècle (Paris: Études augustiniennes, 1981), 81–94. 11 On Victorinus, see Stephen A. Cooper, “The Platonist Christianity of Marius Victorinus,” Religions 7 (2016): 10.122, https://doi:10.3390/rel7100122. 12 On Ambrose’s “mystagogical” approach, see now David VopĜada, La mistagogia del Commento al Salmo 118 di Sant’Ambrogio (Rome: Institutum Patristicum Augustinianum, 2016), 72–141.

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as a script or even a spell that affects the individual and communal awareness of invisible realities, including soul, spirit, and divinity, as well as the spiritual meanings of the natural world and the biblical text.13 While the term itself is somewhat fashionable these days, I also think its use is warranted both by Ambrose’s own account of his motives and by a close study of the hymns’ techniques.14 Indeed, Ambrose’s only mention of the hymns uses precisely this vocabulary to describe his project. In the course of his “Sermon against Auxentius,” he reports the claims that his Arian opponents make against him: according to Ambrose they complain that “the people are deceived by the songs of my hymns.” 15 Ambrose concedes and even embraces the charge, using the loaded term carmen to refer to his hymns; he is playing on that term’s connection to “spells,” as in magic spells or “enchantments.”16 Ambrose admits that he is casting a spell—in fact, the most powerful spell there is: the proclamation of the Trinity itself. By linking the enchanting force of his carmina with their pro-Nicene trinitarian aims, Ambrose suggests that the very act of singing his hymnody “magically” aligns the sympathies and commitments of the Milanese Christians with his own account of orthodoxy. In a similar manner, when applied to his catechesis, the term enchantment conveys the non-propositional, affective character of ancient rhetoric and, especially, of Ambrose’s approach to mystagogy, that is, the explanation of the sacraments or “mysteries” to initiates.17 To engage this rhetoric we need to recall that the performance and the experience of the hymns are different from silent, scholarly reading. To be sure, students of Christian literature must focus on the texts that survive from the ancient world and the ideas 13

On Entzauberung, see Dunkle, Enchantment and Creed, 2–3; on the term “enchantment” in current social thought, see Charles Taylor, A Secular Age (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, 2007), 25–6, and, more broadly, Akeel Bilgrami, Secularism, Identity, and Enchantment (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2014). 14 In studies of early Christianity, see Carol Harrison, “Enchanting the Soul: The Music of the Psalms,” in Meditations of the Heart: The Psalms in Early Christian Thought and Practice. Essays in Honour of Andrew Louth, ed. Andreas Andreopoulos, Augustine Casiday, and Carol Harrison (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011), 203–23. 15 Ambrose, Ep. 75a.34, CSEL 82.3:105: “hymnorum quoque meorum carminibus deceptum populum ferunt.” 16 First argued by Christine Mohrmann, “La langue et le style de la poésie latin chrétienne,” chap. 3 of Études sur le Latin des chrétiens (Rome: Edizioni di storia e letteratura, 1961), 1:166. 17 VopĜada, La mistagogia del Commento al Salmo 118, 72–141.

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that these texts convey;18 theologians are especially concerned to identify specific terms and phrases that distinguish orthodoxy from heresy. But such a focus can distract us from the many non-verbal elements that are presupposed by and inform the ancient writings that we read.19 Ambrose’s pastoral aim was not merely to transmit content, but also to awaken imaginations. He is not content to have his congregation recite a set of doctrinal claims; he invites believers to recognize Christ in their hearts and at work in their celebrations.20 Song and music are, of course, particularly effective media for swaying hearts and minds, as recognized by Homer, Plato, and Aristotle in the classical tradition and by King David in biblical accounts.21 Early Christian teachers reflected on this power in music, especially in relationship to the Church’s use of the psalms in worship. 22 Bishops such as Athanasius promoted the chanting of the scriptural songs for specific spiritual therapies, prescribing particular psalms for calming anger, for instance, or for gaining courage.23 The psalms were the “gymnasium of souls,” as Ambrose calls them, not simply because their teachings could train and subdue stubborn

18 For some corrective to this imbalance, see the chapters on “Evidence: Material and Textual” and “Ritual, Piety, and Practice” in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies, ed. Susan Ashbrook Harvey and David Hunter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008). 19 On hymns in particular, Brian Dunkle, S.J., and Angela Kim Harkins, “Hymns and Psalmody in Early Christian Worship,” in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Ritual, ed. Risto Uro, Juliette J. Day, Richard E. DeMaris, and Rikard Roitto (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019), 610–26. 20 As detailed in Craig Satterlee, Ambrose of Milan’s Method of Mystagogical Preaching (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2000), 76–77. 21 For instance, Odyssey 12.40–45; Republic 7, 522a; Politics 8, 1339b1–1340a15; and 1 Sam 16:16. For an extended treatment, see Günther Wille, Musica Romana: Die Bedeutung der Musik im Leben der Römer (Amsterdam: P. Schippers, 1967); James McKinnon, Music in Early Christian Literature (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987) provides an invaluable and handy collection of ancient references. For song and theology, see the essays in James Hawkey, Ben Quash, and Vernon White, ed., God’s Song and Music’s Meanings: Theology, Liturgy, and Musicology in Dialogue (London: Routledge, 2019), especially the article by Carol Harrison, “Mellifluous Music in Early Western Christianity,” 3–18. 22 See Harrison, “Enchanting the Soul,” 203–23. 23 Athanasius, Epistula ad Marcellinum (PG 27.11–46); for background, see Everett Ferguson, “Epistula ad Marcellinum in Interpretationem Psalmorum,” in Studia Patristica 16.2 = Texte und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur 129 (1985), 295–308.

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human passions, but also because they employed the sorts of musical tones that transformed the dispositions of the heart.24 For the most part, we have little access to the original musical settings of the hymns and so we can only speculate on the specific psychological (and psychagogical) effects of those settings.25 Hence, we have to rely on the texts of the hymns themselves, as well as early reports, for evidence of their methods. A close reading of those texts, especially in light of Ambrose’s manner of preaching to neophytes, shows that he uses certain techniques to foster the contemplation and the “actualization” of scriptural history.26 These techniques, especially the clever use of repetitio, prompt the audience to look beyond appearances and to apply their “spiritual senses” to the hidden meanings of nature and scripture.27 Moreover, the earliest literary imitations of Ambrose’s hymns, especially the verse of Prudentius and Sedulius, emphasized precisely these techniques, suggesting that they were seen as distinctive features in the originals.28 As I will explain in my exposition of “Aeterne Rerum Conditor,” Ambrose’s hymns preclude wooden literalism and encourage a spiritual imagination (which, we might note, is the lesson that Augustine claims he received from Ambrose as he struggled to understand scripture). 29 His hymns, much like many of the songs of scripture, especially the Psalms, aimed to inculcate a certain spiritual sensitivity and to teach a congregation to read the cosmos and the Word of God with a heightened awareness of their multiple meanings.30 Hence, both the music and the text of Ambrose’s hymns contribute to their spell-binding effect.

24Ambrose,

Explanatio Psalmorum XII, 1.7, CSEL 54.6. For a summary and effort at reconstruction, see Giacomo Baroffio, “La tradizione musicale degli Inni di sant’Ambrogio,” in Contributi di ricerca sulla poesia in Ambrogio, Studia Ambrosiana 2 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 2008): 251–61. The settings for our conference’s performance update traditions that endure from the early middle ages. 26 On the patristic background to “actualization,” see Basil Studer, “Die patristische Exegese, eine Aktualisierung der Heiligen Schrift: zur hermeneutischen Problematik der frühchristlichen Bibelauslegung,” Revue des Études Augustiniennes 42 (1996), 71–95. 27 Dunkle, Enchantment and Creed, 67–68. 28 Dunkle, 186–213. 29 Cf. Augustine, Conf. 5.14.24. 30 Dunkle, Enchantment and Creed, 9–10. 25

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Creeds: Doctrinal and Communal But if “enchantment” accurately describes the form or mode of the hymns as a pastoral construction for formation, how should we understand the content of the hymns? For an answer I turn again to Ambrose’s account of his songs in his “Sermon against Auxentius.” When he describes the hymns as incantations, he emphasizes their effect: “What incantation can be more powerful than the proclamation [confessio] of the Trinity?”31 The spells’ power comes also from their content. Now, everyone who searches Ambrose’s hymns for clear and distinct confessiones Trinitatis, “proclamations of the Trinity,” will be disappointed.32 In fact, what strikes most scholars is the conspicuous absence of specifically pro-Nicene, trinitarian propositions. 33 With some important exceptions, the hymns rarely parrot the creeds that were the subject of fervent debate in Ambrose’s time.34 As in my discussion of enchantment, however, closer inspection finds clues to Ambrose’s meaning. In all of his hymns, Ambrose weaves in the language of doctrine, understood in a broad sense as “the language of belief,” to communicate a distinctively Nicene as well as Milanese account of the Christian faith.35 Indeed, it is striking that fides (“faith”) is the most common word across the corpus, and included strategically in almost all of the authentic hymns.36 The term indicates both the propositional content of the faith that Ambrose wanted his congregation to profess as well as the affections of belief that he wanted them to know in their hearts; that is, both the public fides quae and the personal fides qua.37 When the hymns sing of fides, the referent shifts between the doctrine that is proclaimed in the Church’s creed and the personal trust that the believer must place in God.38 Moreover, the creedal elements in the hymns often have specific links to 31 Ambrose, Ep. 75a.34, CSEL 82.3:105: “quid enim potentius quam confessio trinitatis?” 32 See Fontaine, Hymnes, 46–50. 33 Manlio Simonetti, Studi sull’innologia popolare cristiana dei primi secoli (Rome: Academia nazionale dei Lincei, 1952), 416–17, offers a good summary of the issue. 34 For exceptions, see creedal verses in “Iam Surgit Hora Tertia,” ll.29–32, and “Intende Qui Regis Israel,” ll.22–25. 35 Fontaine, Hymnes, 46–50; Dunkle, Enchantment and Creed, 47–49. 36 See the concordance in Fontaine, Hymnes, 671–72. 37 Dunkle, Enchantment and Creed, 138. For a critical engagement with the distinction in contemporary catechesis, see Olivier Riaudel, “Fides qua creditur et Fides quae creditur: Retour sur une distinction qui n’est pas chez Augustin,” Revue théologique de Louvain 43 (2012): 169–94. 38 See, for instance, the pairing of fides in “Victor Nabor Felix Pii,” ll.24–25.

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Ambrose’s beliefs about Christ. Studying the hymns, we find Jesus frequently identified with the true God, as “equal” (aequalis) to God, in the same terms that Ambrose used to distinguish his commitment to orthodoxy from rival christologies.39 And yet the “indoctrinating” language in the hymns extends beyond the strictly doctrinal terms that Ambrose inserts. Ambrose’s approach to creed depends, to some extent, on the sort of hymn he is composing. Specifically creedal language is more prominent in his songs devoted to the central liturgical hours of the day, such as “Aeterne Rerum,” as well as in his hymns for the dominical feasts, that is, the annual celebrations of the central moments in the life of Christ.40 But in the hymns for saints and martyrs, the language of belief takes a peculiar form.41 In these hymns Ambrose rarely inserts terms from Nicaea, but rather he has the congregation sing in evocative Roman language that would bring them to proclaim and endorse the classical virtues, such as courage and modesty, in their Christian forms.42 Singing the achievements of the saints, the Milanese would repeat the quasi-creedal terms that convey the ways that Christians should be both true Romans and true disciples.43 Indeed, for Ambrose, the content of his orthodoxy is intimately linked to Rome, the historical and religious capital of his Christian imagination.44 39

See Dunkle, Enchantment and Creed, 126, on specific links to the Nicene Creed. Two extended German studies treat such language at great length: for the daytime hymns, see Ansgar Franz, Tageslauf und Heilsgeschichte: Untersuchungen zum literarischen Text und liturgischen Kontext der Tagzeitenhymnen des Ambrosius von Mailand (St. Ottilien: EOS, 1991); for the hymns for the dominical feasts, see Alexander Zerfass, Mysterium mirabile: Poesie, Theologie und Liturgie in den Hymnen des Ambrosius von Mailand zu den Christusfesten des Kirchenjahres (Tübingen: A. Francke, 2008). 41 In these cases, I admittedly stretch the term “creed” beyond its doctrinal application; see the observations of Carolinne White, “Review: Enchantment and Creed in the Hymns of Ambrose of Milan,” The Journal of Theological Studies 69 (2018): 341–42. On the hymns for martyrs, see Cécile Lanéry, Ambroise de Milan hagiographe (Paris: Institut d’Études Augustiniennes, 2008), which contains extended treatments of many of these hymns. 42 Dunkle, Enchantment and Creed, 150. 43 Dunkle, Enchantment and Creed, 159–60; on the approach to the martyrs more broadly in Ambrose, see Lanéry, Ambroise de Milan hagiographe, 217–75. 44 On Ambrose’s Roman background, see Ernst Dassmann, “Ambrosius in Rom,” Römische Quartalschrift 98 (2003): 72–86; it is worth noting that sixth-century Western, anti-Nicene sources identify the “Homoousian” Catholics as “Romans”; see John Moorhead, “What Names did the Anti-Nicenes Use for Catholics and Arians?,” Augustinianum 50 (2010): 423–41. 40

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Hence, the singers of Ambrose’s hymns learn to adopt not only their bishop’s creedal commitments, but also his ecclesiastical and cultural loyalties. Ambrose is intent on a holistic formation of his congregation that would communicate a shared set of creedal and “quasi-creedal” values.

“Aeterne Rerum Conditor” This interplay between enchantment and creed is especially evident in the hymn for the morning hour, “Aeterne Rerum Conditor,” among the best known of the collection and still sung in the Latin Sunday Office.45 It is also among the most reliably attributed to the bishop of Milan.46 Ambrose’s song explores the meaning of the cock’s crow, called in ancient Rome the gallicinium. This cry accompanies the end of the dark night (the nox intempesta) and precedes the morning dawn (the crepusculum matutinum); it also marks the rising of the morning star.47 The rooster who calls out in the hymn rouses the faithful from their sleep and likewise banishes darkness from their hearts; the rooster’s call renders the waking hour tolerable and even heartening. The hymn’s eight stanzas first invoke Christ as the Creator of the world and then introduce the cockcrow as the voice that marks the shift of the darkness of night into day. The sound awakens the morning star, scatters the crowds of lurking thieves, gives strength to the sailor, and occasions Peter’s repentance (cf. Lk 26:22). Ambrose uses biblical and natural examples to illustrate the hope rousted by the rooster’s call. Then he invites the congregation to participate in the new life of the day by casting aside deeds of darkness and taking courage in the promise of reconciliation signaled by the dawn. The transformation of the natural order accomplished through the Incarnation allows the cockcrow to serve as a “nighttime light for wayfarers” (nocturna lux uiantibus), the paradoxical light of song giving hope to Christians and guiding them to the breaking dawn.

45

There is an extensive literature on the hymn, but see Carl P. E. Springer, “Of Roosters and Repetitio: Ambrose’s Aeterne rerum conditor,” Vigiliae Christianae 68 (2014): 155–77; Giovanna Maria Pintus, “Il primo inno di Ambrogio: ‘Aeterne rerum conditor’,” Paideia 65 (2010): 295–306; Klaus Thraede, “Und alsbald krähte der Hahn: Der Morgenhymnus des Ambrosius von Mailand,” in Hauptwerke der Literatur: Schriftenreihe der Universität Regensburg, ed. Hans Bungert (Regensburg: Mittelbayerische, 1990), 35–47. 46 On attribution, see Fontaine, Hymnes, 143–47. 47 For discussion of the times of day, see Franz, Tageslauf und Heilsgeschichte, 161– 74.

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So much for the narrative; now let us consider how “Aeterne Rerum” is both “enchanting” and “creedal.” The hymn enchants by fostering a resensitization to the present moment, linking the early morning hour to natural and scriptural events. 48 Consider the temporal markers scattered throughout the hymn. The reference to the “now” in line 5 links the cockcrow to the performance of the hymn itself. We then find the repeated hoc, “by this singing,” which actualizes the time we are celebrating:49 now the wandering abandon their peril; now is the moment when the sailor gathers his strength after a night at sea.50 We find a parallel in Ambrose’s mystagogies, when the bishop tells the newly baptized to recall the discrete moments of the rite they had just experienced. In the hymn Ambrose wants his congregation to re-experience the deeper meaning of the rising of the morning star.51 The temporal markers suggest the movement to the hymn’s second enchanting feature: Ambrose identifies invisible equivalences for visible realities, conveying a certain sacramental sense of nature. 52 “Aeterne Rerum” employs a subtle form of repetition for communicating this spiritual sense.53 In the first stanzas of the hymn Ambrose identifies the Creator as the one who gives “times of the times” (temporum das tempora). Here we have a single word with at least two different referents, which the congregation must learn: tempora refers both to the times that pass (“Time flies!”) and to the moments of time (“Time to get to work!”), which include the periods of the day and the seasons of the year. 54 The doublet 48 Jan den Boeft, “Ambrose’s Poem about ‘Time’,” in Jerusalem, Alexandria, Rome: Studies in Ancient Cultural Interaction in Honour of A. Hilhorst, ed. Florentino García Martínez and Gerard P. Luttikhuizen (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 31. 49 On “actualization” in patristic rhetoric, see Studer, “Die patristische Exegese,” 82–85. 50 Springer, “Of Roosters and Repetitio,” 158; den Boeft, “Ambrose’s Poem about ‘Time’,” 31. 51 For some discussion, see Georgia Frank, “The Eucharist and the Eyes of Faith in the Fourth Century,” Church History 70 (2001): 619–43. 52 On Ambrose and nature, see the articles in Ambrogio e la natura, ed. Raffaele Passarella, Studia Ambrosiana 9 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 2016), especially Luigi Franco Pizzolato, “L’uomo di fronte al creato nella visione di Ambrogio,” 3– 26. 53 For an inventory of the hymns’ rhetoric, see Sant’Ambrogio: Opere poetiche e frammenti, ed. Gabriele Banterle, Giacomo Biffi, Inos Biffi, and Luciano Migliavacca, SAEMO 22 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 1994), 173–80. 54 den Boeft, “Ambrose’s Poem about ‘Time’,” 31; M. B. Pranger, “Time and the Integrity of Poetry: Ambrose and Augustine,” in Poetry and Exegesis in Premodern Latin Christianity, ed. Willemien Otten and Karla Pollman (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 51.

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communicates Ambrose’s view that temporal shifts are themselves gifts from God. This theme appears in Ambrose’s preaching; Augustine calls it “the blessed vicissitude of the changing night and day.”55 By means of a lyrical device, the congregation learns the grace of changing seasons. The method recurs throughout the hymn. The cock’s crow divides “night from night” (a nocte noctem segregans).56 Again, nox has more than one meaning: it means both the nighttime (e.g., “all night long”) and one watch of the night rather than another (e.g., “at midnight”). I could add examples, and I could also discuss the early literary imitators of Ambrose, such as the Spanish poet Prudentius (348–c.413), who exaggerates precisely this feature of the hymn in his literary imitation, “Ales Diei Nuntius.” 57 This early reception indicates what enchanting features of the hymns originally stood out for their learned audience. The repetition of key terms, as well as polyptoton, a poetic technique that repeats terms sharing the same linguistic root, are especially prominent throughout the hymns on the hours, which would come to be sung daily in the liturgy. 58 The repetitions lead the congregation to a certain contemplative disposition, encouraging them to consider the many referents signaled by a single term or natural reality. Where did Ambrose acquire this technique? Although repetition appears in classical poetry, it is employed most often in generically determined and formulaic contexts; for instance, poets may speak of “hand-to-hand combat” when in reference to a battle.59 More typically, however, classical poets aim at verbal variation to express similar ideas in a range of terms that show off their virtuosity. Ambrose’s penchant for repeating key terms in his hymns more likely had a scriptural, rather than a classical, source. Hebrew poetry, especially the psalms, employs repetition to a variety of ends.60 Standard biblical repetitions, based on Hebraisms, were fixtures of Christian prayer by the fourth century: consider, for instance, in saecula saeculorum and seruus seruorum. 55 Augustine, De civitate Dei 22.24.5, CCL 48.851: “Quam grata uicissitudo diei alternantis et noctis!” 56 Ambrose, “Aeterne Rerum Conditor,” 8. 57 See Dunkle, Enchantment and Creed, 194–97; on repetition in ancient poetry, see Jeffrey Wills, Repetition in Latin Poetry: Figures of Allusion (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996). 58 See Ansgar Franz, “Gli inni di Ambrogio e la liturgia delle ore giornaliera,” Ambrogio e la liturgia, ed. Raffaele Passarella, Studia Ambrosiana 6 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 2012), 3–22. 59 See Wills, Repetition in Latin Poetry, 198. 60 Wilfred G. E. Watson, Traditional Techniques in Classical Hebrew Verse (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994), 377.

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These repetitions attracted the attention of early Christian theologians. While modern biblical studies typically pass over such doublets in biblical literature or identify them simply as emphatic,61 Ambrose usually takes the second instance of a term to mean something different from the first. When he reads that the “deep calls unto deep” in Psalm 42, for example, he takes the first “abyss” to be the Old Testament calling to the second “abyss,” the New.62 In this regard he resembles his contemporaries: patristic interpreters often explained each instance in a repetition differently.63 Thus, Ambrose’s construction of his hymns both resonates with psalmody and heightens the congregation’s sensitivity to meaning itself. They learn to hear the cockcrow with new ears; alert to the spiritual meaning of the biblical reference to the rooster’s call, they are equipped to interpret scripture in multiple senses. We have seen how Ambrose is attempting to “enchant” with his hymn, but now let us consider the evidence for the creed in “Aeterne Rerum.” Ambrosian orthodoxy hides beneath the surface of the hymn. As in the bishop’s mystagogical preaching, the Nicene commitments are not often explicit, but rather signaled by a single, evocative word or phrase.64 The hymn’s opening invocation furnishes an example. Aeterne highlights the Nicene position on the Son’s eternity, which establishes him as equal to the Father.65 His true divinity is further affirmed when he is named the conditor rerum and identified as the Creator.66 As many have observed, the final two stanzas, which invoke Christ as the Redeemer, form an inclusion with the opening call to the Creator: the Son operates in both creation and redemption and thus the cockcrow calls to mind Christ as both source and

61

See, for instance, Wilfred G. E. Watson, Classical Hebrew Poetry: A Guide to Its Techniques, Supplement, Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 26 (1984), 278– 9. 62 Iob 4.4.18 and Ps 35.18.6. 63 Dunkle, Enchantment and Creed, 96–7. 64 Dunkle, Enchantment and Creed, 99–100. 65 For a review of Ambrose’s relation to the theological debates of his time, see Raniero Cantalamessa, “Sant’Ambrogio di fronte ai grandi dibattiti teologici del suo secolo,” in “Ambrosius Episcopus”: Atti del Congresso internazionale di studi ambrosiani nel XVI centenario della elevazione di sant’Ambrogio alla cattedra episcopale, Milano, 2–7 dicembre 1974, ed. Giuseppe Lazzati (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 1976), 1:483–539; more recently, see Andrew M. Selby, Ambrose of Milan’s On the Holy Spirit: Rhetoric, Theology, and Sources (Piscataway, N.J.: Gorgias Press, 2020), 1–16. 66 On Christ the Creator in Ambrose, see François Szabó, Le Christ créateur chez saint Ambroise (Rome: Studium Theologicum “Augustinianum,” 1968).

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savior of human life.67 Moreover, the call of the final stanza, “Shine, o you our light, on our senses,” may contain a Nicene reference to Christ as the light, while the concluding exhortation—“Let our voice first call out to you/ and let us fulfill our vows to you”—affirms that Christ himself is addressee of liturgical prayer, which was a claim occasionally contested by Ambrose’s opponents.68 Likewise, heretics may be implied by the chorus of “errors” in line 11, the crowd of false teachers who must abandon their harmful doctrine. Gerard O’Daly proposes another link to doctrinal debate: “the negantes (“deniers”) who are reproached by the cockcrow in l.20 are most likely apostates from the true faith.”69 Furthermore, the reference to Peter as the “rock of the Church” in line 15 reinforces the singing congregation’s ties to Rome, a link I have already noted in his explicitly Roman hymns.70 By identifying with the great Church, the congregation gains a heightened sense of their communal opposition to the teachings of the “Arians.” To be sure, these are minor, even ambivalent, creedal references. Some scholars, by contrast, interpret the invocation of the first stanza to be addressed to the Father and not to the Son;71 likewise, one could argue that merely identifying the Son as conditor does not imply that he is true God as is the Father. Yet even if certain terms may be given interpretations amenable to non-Nicene Christians, the regular repetition in a polemical context would have reinforced the chant’s polemical effect as an “acclamation,” as Michael Williams has argued.72 The figure of Christ as true God, a belief that is coded throughout the hymn, is affectively Nicene. Doctrine and popular worship mutually endorse each other.

67

See, e.g., den Boeft, “Ambrose’s Poem about ‘Time’,” 35. “Aeterne Rerum Conditor,” ll.29–32: “Tu lux refulge sensibus . . . te nostra uox primum sonet/ et uota soluamus tibi.” On the dispute about the addressee of liturgical prayer, see Karl Baus, Das Gebet zu Christus beim hl. Ambrosius: Eine frömmigkeitsgeschichtliche Untersuchung (Berlin: Philo Verlagsgesellschaft, 2000), 102–14. 69 Gerard O’Daly, Days Linked by Song: Prudentius’ Cathemerinon (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 57. 70 Franz, Tageslauf und Heilsgeschichte, 233. 71 See the remarks in Manlio Simonetti, review of Tageslauf und Heilsgeschichte, by Ansgar Franz, Rivista di storia e letteratura religiosa 32 (1996), 186. 72 Michael Stuart Williams, “Hymns as Acclamations: The Case of Ambrose of Milan,” Journal of Late Antiquity 6 (2013): 108–34. 68

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Reconstructing Ambrosian Hymnody Mindful of the aims of this conference, I now want to turn briefly to the project of “reconstructing” Ambrosian hymns, a project in which we participate this evening. I suggest that the principles of Ambrose’s hymns that I have proposed—a concern for enchantment and for creed—should guide attempts to retrieve and update his songs for contemporary audiences. To be sure, these foundational aims allow for a broad variety of interpretations. But they nevertheless offer a “grammar” for authentic Ambrosian reconstruction, which I hope to show by presenting Campbell’s compositional choices for “Aeterne Rerum” in light of these goals. The first major decision for any reconstruction is the issue of original or modern language. Some arrangements of the hymns preserve the original Latin, while others draw on existing modern-language translations. Campbell opts for Latin in his version of “Aeterne Rerum,” although he also includes some English verses in other arrangements. Famous composers have drawn on or even composed their own translations; John Henry Newman’s “Framer of the Earth and Sky” is one of many creative reconstructions of Ambrose’s original.73 Both Latin and modern languages can achieve Ambrosian aims. Both can cast a certain “spell” on an audience and help to transmit a creed. And both can achieve these ends even when they depart from some of the superficial features of Ambrose’s own constructions, such as Ambrose’s use of iambic dimeter, or Ambrose’s own aversion to rhyme, which he inherited from Roman poetic practices.74 But to achieve these ends the text must prompt singers and listeners to reflect deeply on the hidden meaning of the words. Latin, obviously, presents difficulties to most modern audiences; but the strangeness of the vocabulary could very well invite the curious to investigate into the text, especially for the background to repeated terms, such as fides. As for English translations, I would suggest that Ambrosian reconstructions should strive less for decorative vocabulary or poeticisms than for a certain biblical austerity that prompts singers and audience to consider the text from multiple perspectives. 73

To identify these sources, the best resource is https://hymnary.org/. Zerfass, Mysterium mirabile, and Franz, Tageslauf und Heilsgeschichte, both treat Germanlanguage versions of the hymns in their respective studies, including Martin Luther’s contributions. 74 On these features and their reception, see Marcos Garcia, “Significant Differences: Ambrosian Hymns in Anglo-Latin Metrical Cultures,” The Journal of Medieval Latin 27 (2017): 165–221.

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For modern exemplars, we might look to lyricists who favor not clever wordplay, but dense terms that encourage their readership to ruminate on the multiple resonances of symbols and metaphors. When I have thought about Ambrosian repetition, I have often recalled the first stanza of John Updike’s “light” verse “Shipbored.” 75 Here the poet speaks from the perspective of a cruisegoer staring at the ocean, at the blue above and below the horizon. Relative to that horizon, the narrator reflects, “The blue above it is divine. / The blue below it is marine.” Spare and repetitive, the couplet leads the reader to imagine the radical difference between heaven and earth and sea, between meanings of “blue.” And the poem’s final couplet reveals a third, hidden meaning of the color: in his melancholy the narrator is also “blue.” Lyrics composed with a similar care could also foster a certain sensitization among the singers, leading them to read the “book of nature” in a new, transcendent light. Such techniques can be as effective today as they were in Ambrose’s time. As for creedal and catechetical content, reconstructions of Ambrose’s hymns face a daunting task, especially given the vast difference in context and culture between fourth-century Milan and the contemporary West. Many of the resonant terms in the originals were precisely those under dispute in the late fourth century: fides, aeternus, and creator, for instance, were fiercely contested by the competing theologians and parties in Ambrose’s Milan.76 Moreover, creeds were themselves in the process of being honed and clarified: much was at stake in communicating specific terms and phrases to a group of neophytes.77 Our situation is different. Particular theological terms do not generally signal ecclesiastical allegiance in the way they did in Ambrose’s time. Indeed, our manner of reading scripture and theology rarely share the lexical fixation characteristic of the patristic period; at least in Christian life, key terms matter less to us than they did to Ambrose’s Milan.78 Moreover, most issues of ecclesial identity are secondary to the challenges that a “secular age” poses to the belief shared among all Christians. Still, retrieving Ambrose’s approach to creed need not imply parroting his favorite words. Rather, Ambrose’s method can show us the value of concision and care in composition. Ambrose favors a limited, restrained 75 The entire poem, including the title, is worth consulting for the effects I have identified; The Carpentered Hen (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1982). 76 Dunkle, Enchantment and Creed, 92–109. 77 See Ambrose’s comments about the importance of proper teachers at De paradiso 12.58, CSEL 32.1:318. 78 For a brief reflection, see Joseph T. Lienhard, S.J., The Bible, the Church, and Authority (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1995), 44–45.

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vocabulary over an expansive and ornate one; in this respect his method parallels the sober “genius” of the Roman liturgy.79 Such sobriety allows for a range of lexical choices, but generally avoids excessive variatio, the penchant for creative invention that characterized some ancient Latin poetry. To be sure, ears eager for elaborate wordplay may resist the austerity of Ambrosian reconstructions. But such restraint, I would argue, allows the carefully selected terms to impress themselves on the singers and audience. I know that I have offered only the most minimal of guidelines for actual compositions. Moreover, I speak only about texts, and not to musical settings, which I leave to composers and musicologists to discuss. Nevertheless, even such minimal guidelines could inform recent efforts at revised translations and, perhaps, cut through some of the divisive rhetoric surrounding approved updates to hymns of the Roman missal.80 Moreover, practice and repetition will help us see the viability of these principles. Our gathering participates in that practice. We have the occasion to consider the prospect of “reenchantment,” not only by following the choir’s harmonies and by tracking the text of the song, but also by allowing the combination of sound, sight, and thought to prompt our interior senses as they reencounter Christian themes that are ever ancient and ever new. I trust this is a worthy setting to reconstruct a community of scholars and learners around the delectatio of a new rendition of an ancient hymn tradition.

79

Often presented, in Edmund Bishop’s terms, as “great sobriety and self-control”; “The Genius of the Roman Rite,” Liturgica Historica 45 (1918): 12; see Frederick R. McManus, “The Berakah Award for 1980: Response: The Genius of the Roman Rite Revisited,” Worship 54 (1980): 360–78. 80 A revised version of the English translation of the hymns for the Roman Catholic Liturgy of the Hours was approved by the US Conference of Catholic Bishops in November 2019 and is near publication.

CHAPTER NINE AMBROSE AND ART: TOWARD A COMMUNITY AESTHETIC ETHAN GANNAWAY

Communities create images, and images shape communities. This axiom is no truer today than it was in the fourth century. Not surprisingly, the power of images in classical antiquity has occupied many pages of scholarship of diverse disciplines, relying heavily on Campanian wall paintings and the works of Pliny the Elder and the Elder Philostratus, among many others. Interpretations of early Christian art, by necessity, have depended largely on funerary art, namely catacomb frescoes and sarcophagi, and the works of the church fathers, such as Augustine and Basil. Yet, Ambrose’s contributions to late antique visuality remain absent in modern academic studies, despite the fact that Augustine cites Ambrose’s influence several times, and that Ambrose regularly borrowed (cited, plagiarized) passages of Basil and of Plotinus, who remain popular in modern scholarship. This fact is all the more surprising since visuality comprises one of Ambrose’s primary interests throughout his corpus. Ambrose’s works, from exegetical texts to funeral orations to letters to hymns and more, are laden with references to sight and perception, what God sees, what a human sees, how to see what is not there, or what is. Ambrose discusses sight and the image, the science of perception, eye medicine, and mystical viewing. In the end, the sheer abundance of visual references leaves one a little (ahem) see-sick. This first exploration into Ambrosian visuality and aesthetics, topics persistently paired, requires a more focused approach. Ambrose’s Hexameron, expectedly rife with references to the visual, will provide a case study. The myriad approaches to visuality and aesthetics find rich fodder in this work. One chapter, to focus still further, is particularly interesting. In the Hexameron’s culminating book, on the creation of human beings, Ambrose

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calls God a craftsman and a painter, and humans his paintings.11This case study provides an opportunity to examine how Ambrose strove to alter traditional viewing habits and to encourage this new manner of viewing to strengthen the bonds within his community of listeners. This passage uses painters and their paintings as a metaphor, which depends heavily on traditional impressions and perceptions of those artists and their art. Not only was Ambrose a Roman, but so also was his audience. Yet recent developments in Rome’s history, namely imperial monotheism, demanded a change in pictorial content. Moreover, the practice of viewing, however indebted to cultural traditions, required as much of a transformation as did the subject upon which the gaze fell. Ambrose borrows the forms of traditional art criticism, colors them with philosophic and Christian principles, and finishes according to his own unique design and interpretive touch. The subject of this study is a fruitful excerpt that indicates how Ambrose developed a Christian visuality and aesthetic. Teaching his audience a new way of seeing, if fundamentally traditional, Ambrose formed and informed a new community of art appreciators and image interpreters that was exclusive, yet available to all. The initial two sentences of this passage set the analogy between divine and human creator, or more specifically between divine and human artist, which will ironically become a detailed picture in itself: Pictus es ergo, o homo, pictus a domino deo tuo. Bonum habes artificem atque pictorem. (You were painted therefore, o human, painted by the Lord your God. You have the good craftsman and painter.)22

Regarding the human being as a painted object, Ambrose names God both artifex and pictor. An artifex was generally a designer, particularly of elaborate engineering projects.33Thus one might consider the artifex to be 1

Ambrose, Hexameron 6.9.8.47, SAEMO 1. For the Latin, I rely on the CSEL edition (ed. Karl Schenkl) provided in SAEMO 1 and have provided my own translations, except where noted. I also have consulted SAEMO’s Italian translation (trans. Gabriele Banterle) and the dated translation in John J. Savage, trans., Saint Ambrose: Hexameron, Paradise, and Cain and Abel (New York: Fathers of the Church, Inc., 1961). 2 Gabriele Banterle, ed. and trans., I sei giorni della creazione, SAEMO 1 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 1979), 390, references Is 49.16, but that is misleading. Vulgate: “ecce in manibus meis descripsi te muri tui coram oculis meis semper.” 3 Pliny, Naturalis historia 36.4.30-31; 14.66, 68; 19.93 (Etruscan labyrinth); 21.96; 22.98; 24.118, trans. D. E. Eicholtz, LCL 419 (1952).

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someone who constructs, shapes, and puts pieces together. In Ambrose’s reference, this term seems to refer then to the physical construction of a human, meaning the creation and assemblage of bones, joints, tendons, and muscles that give it form and allow it to move. The greatest artifex, however, is Nature, “that parent and divine artifex of things,” parens illa ac divina rerum artifex, according to Pliny the Elder.4 The term pictor generally meant a painter. In this context, where Ambrose specifies God as a painter of human beings, the audience probably associated this pictor with the pictor imaginarius, who rendered figures for panel paintings and for the main scenes of wall paintings. He was also by far the highest revered and best compensated, according to the wage limits that appear in Diocletian’s Edict on Maximum Prices.55 In an earlier passage concerned with the separation of day and night, Ambrose explains the goal of artists: 4

Indeed shadow adheres naturally to the body and is joined to it, to a degree that even painters try to depict the shades of the bodies which they paint and assert this to be the goal of art, not to overlook the power of nature, and as if he would be considered a prevaricator of the natural law, whose picture does not even express its own shadow.66

According to Ambrose, the successful painter is the one who can best imitate what he sees in the world around him as naturalistically as possible through the painting medium. Ambrose assumes that his audience understands why these shadows are necessary for painting. Shadows create a three-dimensional quality and, in turn, make the figures and objects more lifelike, rendering the “power of nature,” in other words, as if those painted objects are truly present.77 Despite the transition to less naturalistic art forms during the latter half of the fourth century, when the use of shadow decreases, a certain revival had occurred beginning with the reign of Diocletian.8 8Edicts providing painters tax breaks appear under Constantine and again under Valentinian,

4

Pliny, HN 22.56.117. cf. 10.91.196; 11.28.82; 16.81.222. Roger Ling, Roman Painting (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 213. 6 Ambrose, Hex. 4.6.3.11. 7 For example, Vitruvius, De architectura 7.5.4, trans. M. H. Morgan (New York, 1914); Pliny, HN 35.2.4 (here on portraits); Philostratus Imagines 1.1, trans. Arthur Fairbanks, LCL 256 (1931). 8 Ling, Roman Painting, 192 5

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Valens, and Gratian,9 perhaps indicating a reinvestment in traditional GrecoRoman art forms (to some extent), and yet at the same time alluding to their fading fashion.10 Despite the limited evidence, extant paintings from Rome and from the palace at Trier suggest that this aesthetic survived, perhaps especially in imperial capitals such as these and at Milan. In Milan, mosaics are the best surviving evidence and reveal at least a hint of that naturalism of the past while at the same time bear the heavy outline and shallow perspective that would be the standard of the future.1111 Discussions of artworks are readily found in the corpus of ancient literature that continued to be read in the fourth century. JaĞ Elsner, in particular, has studied carefully the works of Ovid, Pliny the Elder, Pausanias, Lucian, Philostratus (the Elder and Younger), Cebes, and more.12 Such studies have offered enlightening results, teaching modern readers how to look at ancient art. Three chapters on famous artists in 9

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9 Codex Theodosianus 7.4.4, decreed to Chilo, Vicar of Africa, issued at Trier in 374. “It is our pleasure that teachers of painting (picturae professores), provided they are free-born, shall not be liable to tax-assessment neither on their own heads nor on those of their wives and children. . . . They shall not be called to the tax payment of tradesmen on condition that they deal only in those wares that pertain to their art. They shall obtain rent-free studios (pergulas) and workshops in public places, provided they exercise therein the practice of their own art…. They shall not be obliged by the magistrates to make sacred (i.e., imperial) images or to decorate public buildings without remuneration. . . .” Cf. Cyril Mango, The Art of the Byzantine Empire, 312-1453: Sources and Documents (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1986), 50. 10 James Trilling, “Late Antique and Sub-Antique, or the ‘Decline of Form’ Reconsidered,” in Studies on Art and Archeology in Honor of Ernst Kitzinger on His Seventy-Fifth Birthday, ed. W. Tronzo and I. Lavin, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 41 (1987), 469-76. 11 See, for example, the mosaics in the (perhaps imperial) Chapel of San Aquilino, adjoined to the Basilica of San Lorenzo, Milan, dated to the late fourth or early fifth century AD. For a recent discussion: Gabrielle Pelizzari, “‘Quando apparirà il supremo pastore, riceverete la corona di gloria’ (1 Pt 5.4): Il progetto iconografico dei mosaici dell’ottagono di Sant’Aquilino,” in Il Culto di San Lorenzo tra Roma e Milano, ed. Raffaele Passarella, Studia Ambrosiana 8 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 2015), 235-86. 12 Notably, Art and the Roman Viewer: The Transformation of Art from the Pagan World to Christianity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995); Imperial Rome and Christian Triumph: The Art of the Roman Empire AD 100-450 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998); “Inventing Christian Rome: the role of early Christian art,” in Rome the Cosmopolis, ed. Catharine Edwards and Greg Woolf (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 71-99; Roman Eyes: Visuality and Subjectivity in Art and Text (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2008).

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Pliny’s Natural History (34-36) also provide instruction on how to appreciate art of the past and to look at contemporary art and new and/or altered versions of past masterworks. Pliny presents a canon of painters and sculptors, some of their famous artworks, and explanations for their reputations, explaining all that a cultured Roman would need to know about the great masters; namely their most famous creations and often the virtuous habits that led to their success.13 For now, a few excerpts will suffice to depict the traditional understanding of the painter’s skill, talent, and wisdom. In a famous anecdote, Pliny the Elder relates the story of Zeuxis and Parrhasios, two rival painters competing in the early fourth century BC.14 In this contest, Zeuxis, known for the initial appeal of his paintings, seems to have the upper hand at the outset, for when he opened the curtains to reveal his still life, birds flew to the grapes depicted there. At that moment, Zeuxis turned to Parrhasios and told him to pull back the curtains to reveal his work. The curtains, however, were the content of Parrhasios’ painting. Therefore, whereas Zeuxis had tricked a bird, Parrhasios had fooled the artist, who was not only capable of rational thought and discernment, unlike the birds, but also educated in the illusory effects of painting.1515 Such deception could have more dire consequences than shallow shame. In his account of Apelles’ Venus Anadyomene, Pliny discusses the excellence of its execution and the impossibility of imitating it, adding that in this way the painting had been an inspiration for poets.16 Michael Squire, investigating Pliny’s note, explored the ancient epigrammatic history addressing this image, using this evidence to elicit the ancient viewer’s response to the painting's naturalism, even if acknowledging that the epigrammist’s response might be imagined. For example, viewers look upon the image as Aphrodite herself, says Archias, and should step away from the painting to avoid being splashed by the foam dripping from her 13

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Much in the way Giorgio Vasari will do for Renaissance Italian artists in the sixteenth century. See Verity Platt, “The Artist as Anecdote,” in Creative Lives in Classical Antiquity: Poets, Artists, and Biography, ed. R. Fletcher and J. Hanink (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 274-304. 14 Pliny, HN 35.36.65. 15 See Norman Bryson, Looking at the Overlooked: Four Essays on Still Life Painting (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1990), 30-31. Bryson draws special attention to the setting of this event, in a theater, which layers the interplay of real and unreal, fact and fiction. 16 Pliny, HN 35.36.91; See Michael Squire, “Introduction: Art of Art History in Graeco-Roman Antiquity,” Arethusa 43 (2010): 148-52.

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hair, another one warns.17 Leonidas of Tarentum puts it simply: Apelles’s Venus is “not painted but alive.”18 The naturalism of the artwork, therefore, is so great that it fools the rational viewer’s eye. The painting becomes a living creation. In the case of Venus, visual gullibility can lead to a sacrilegious act. Squire cites one epigram that questions the appropriateness of viewing a naked goddess, which is especially dubious when the image is rendered so naturalistically, that the goddess seems to be there in the flesh—and only in the flesh.1919More poignant is the story told in Pseudo-Lucian about a pilgrim who traveled to see Praxiteles’ cult statue of Aphrodite at Knidos, who became so enamored with the sculpture that he ejaculated on it, leaving a permanent stain.2020In the end, the young man, driven mad, jumped off a cliff to his death. One lesson from this tale (among others!) is that to value human work as real rather than rendered, divine not terrestrial, results in madness and death. The naturalism of the artistic endeavor seeks to represent truth, and its ability to deceive can be an inadvertent consequence and not necessarily the goal. In the painting contest, however, the artists attempt to make what is not real appear to be real. The mastery of naturalistic painting respects, not perverts, the visual world; neither Zeuxis nor Parrhasios might be called a praevaricator naturalis iuris, after Ambrose’s words.2121Instead, the fault in this contest rests on the rational viewer; thus the artists and their subjects are praised and the birds are excused for their gullibility, but Zeuxis is not. The viewer is susceptible to value the image as imbued with life, lost in the naturalism and detail of its form, rather than to acknowledge it to be the creation of a superior artist, whose creative effort has not been witnessed and is now invisible. The viewer considers only what is before the eyes, ignorantly looking at the final product of the artifex and pictor.2222In the end, 17

18

17 Anth. Plan. 179.1-3; Anth. Plan. 181.4-5, in Squire, “Art of Art History,” 151-52. All citations of the Anthologia Planudea come from this passage in Squire. 18 Anth. Plan. 182.4. See Squire, “Art of Art History,” 152, n. 59, noting ekphrastic poems of the Hellenistic period on empsychos, the Socratic idea of making the soul visible. 19 Democritus, Anth. Plan. 180.5 20 Pseudo-Lucian, Amores 11-17, LCL 432 (ed. M. D. McLeod, 1967); noted also in Pliny, HN 36.4.21. See Squire, “Art of Art History,” 149-51. 21 Ambrose, Hex. 4.6.3.11. 22 One might note a connection here with Greek pot painting, the products of which could be signed by those who made it and those who painted it, sometimes one and the same person. The signatures promoted the greatness of the artifex and pictor, reminding the viewer of the genius behind the structural (pot) and the decorative (painting) result.

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Zeuxis’ arrogance led him to look for something inferior, blinding his vision for artistic excellence. If the viewer loses sight of the crafted effect and the creative genius behind the image, he grasps at false grapes. The dangers of virtual reality are real, and the viewer must be warned of its subversion of nature and of its potential to lie. Vitruvius, in his discussion of painting, declares that “no pictures should be tolerated but those established on the basis of truth; and although admirably painted, they should be immediately discarded, if they transgress the rules of propriety and perspicuity as respects the subject.”2323 The good artist, according to Vitruvius, does not attempt to depict a lie and should it do so, one might infer that the error belongs to the viewer. The viewer ought not to see a lie when the truth is depicted and, conversely, to see truth when the image is a falsity. Since some artists do not aim or are not able to depict beautiful images true to nature, the viewer needs to recognize the work of a bad artist. Vitruvius, remarking on painting in his own time, asserts that “the ancients labored to accomplish and render pleasing by dint of art, that which in the present day is obtained by means of strong and gaudy coloring, and for the effect which was formerly obtained only by the skill of the artist, a prodigal expense is now substituted.”24 The layering of details obfuscates the underlying features and draws too much attention to the visual effects of the piece, perverting the true image. Sadly, for Vitruvius, the drive for such inappropriately ostentatious displays appears to have been profit. Vitruvius surmises that this profit derived from turpitudinous creations of superficial beauty and dazzling displays to hook ignorant consumers. Uneducated viewers purchased these unapproved products, which in turn led to the erosion, if not of morals, at least of good taste. Certainly, Vitruvius’ hard line concerning good art belongs to a context when Rome struggled still with the influx of Greek art and ideas, demonstrated clearly in Cicero’s remonstrance of his friend, Marcus Fabius Gallus, who had acquired statues of Maenads instead of Muses.2525At least Muses could have been used in his library, but what place was there for Maenads? To make matters worse, these sculptures were particularly expensive. This elitist complaint about derivative and current art, art which could be inappropriate and immoral, was reiterated by Pliny a century later, as he sought to instruct his audience when railing against the ever-expanding drive for and 24

23

Vitruvius, De arch. 7.5.4. Vitruvius, De arch. 7.5.7. 25 Cicero, Epistulae ad familiares 7.23.1-2, LCL 205 (ed. and trans. D. R. Shackleton Bailey, 2001). 24

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expression of luxury.26 26 Such sentiments sought to preserve traditional Roman values of austerity and gravitas. Among the charlatans and their superficial works, some figures, for Pliny, exemplified virtue. His most virtuous painter was Apelles. He was honest about his own ability, recognizing his own excellence, yet knowing when to stop painting. In fact, this awareness gave rise to the saying, manum de tabula.2727Another proverb belonging to this supreme painter, nulla dies sine linea, demonstrated his daily diligence and effort and his concentration on the most basic of skills.2828Indeed, in one excerpt, Apelles acts as both artifex and pictor, creating a varnish to enhance the colors and to protect the painting from dust and dirt.2929Apelles’ vaunted temperance of character is found in his finished product, which received his careful moderation of light to give austeritatem coloribus, austerity to the colors, so that these hues would not offend the viewer. Pliny writes much about what made various artists superior to others. For example, Pliny lauds Protogenes as the first painter to show the human mind and express human feelings. In this passage, Pliny finds an opportunity to praise Apelles once again, in that Apelles lauded the abilities of other painters, such as Protogenes.3030In another example, regarding the characteristics of the great artist, Pliny cites Parrhasios’ ability to render figures convincingly without detracting from underlying meaning: “For the extreme outline, to be properly executed, requires it to be nicely rounded, and so to terminate as to prove the existence of something more behind it (promittit alia et post se), and thereby disclose that which it also serves to hide.”3131Although he often praises the various formal successes of artists (line, color, shadow, etc.), Pliny recognized that the best art, and the best painter, revealed something more than technical ability. Pliny educates his reader about the exceptional skills of each artist, skills worthy of high esteem, reserving the highest praise for Apelles: In admiring [the great painters’] works and bestowing high eulogiums upon them, [Apelles] used to say that there was still wanting in them that ideal of beauty so peculiar to himself, and known to the Greeks as "Charis"; others,

26

Pliny, HN 35.1.1-2.8. Pliny, HN 35.36.80. 28 Pliny, 35.36.84. 29 Pliny, 35.36.97. 30 Pliny, 35.36.98. 31 Pliny, 35.36.68. 27

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he said, had acquired all the other requisites of perfection, but in this one point he himself had no equal.3232

The charis of Apelles has a ready parallel in Ambrose’s gratia above. In fact, Quintilian’s summary of artists, deriving from Pliny, has Apelles taking the prize for genius and grace (ingenio et gratia), to which he was especially devoted.3333Petronius, when he narrates the art museum visit of his character Encolpius in the Satyricon, vaunts Apelles’s lines as “so subtle and clear-cut that you could see them as expressing the subject’s very souls.”3434Artists were recognized for the various feats of skill, but only a few achieved that special charm, that genius, that grace, that soul. Ambrose too addresses truth, falsehood, beauty, and gratia in reference to painting and propounds what are true and valuable artists and art. Do not desire to erase that painting, flashing not with some deceptive pigment (fuco), but with truth, formed not by wax, but by grace. You erase the picture, o woman, if you would smear your face with white makeup, if you would overlay it with ruddy additions. That painting is one of fault, not of beauty; that painting is one of deceit, not of simplicity; that painting is temporal—wiped off either by rain or sweat; that painting deceives and lies, and does not please that one whom you desire to please, who understands that it is yours, not another’s, which is pleasing, and you would displease your originator, who sees that his own work is erased. Tell me, if you were to introduce one artist over another, one who would draw over the work of that superior artist with new works, would not the one who recognizes that his own work has been falsified be hurt?3535

In this comparison to a woman’s use of makeup, one is reminded of Vitruvius’ criticism of gaudy colors in painting, although one might consider also painted sculptures or perhaps painted idols, which Ambrose certainly addresses elsewhere.36 36 Or, one might note a connection with 32

Pliny, 35.36.79-80. Quintilian, Institutio oratoria 12.10.6, LCL 127 (ed. and trans. H. E. Butler, 1922). 34 Petronius, Satyricon 83.1-2, LCL 15 (ed. and trans. M. Heseltine, 1913; rev. ed. E. H. Warmington, 1969). See Pliny, HN 35.36.81-2, on the contest of lines between Apelles and Protogenes, the panel from which was moved to Augustus’ palace on the Palatine, where it burned. 35 Ambrose, Hex. 6.9.8.47. 36 On the foolishness of worshipping idols, see Ambrose’s letters (Ep. 72 .2, 9, 14 and 18.2, 8-9, 31, SAEMO 21) addressing Symmachus’ plea regarding the reinstatement of the Altar of Victory. In the latter, Ambrose compares the bright, golden, and colored words of wise men to golden idols, which are in the end mere wood and stone. 33

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painted walls, which were regularly whitewashed then subsequently covered again with red graffiti. This analogy would pair well with the popular scriptural reference in Ambrose, “Behold Jerusalem, I have painted your walls” (Is 49.16), one which he uses at times in relation to the painting of the soul.3737 In this context, when Ambrose mentions working over a superior painting, a figural painting, he calls upon the audience’s understanding of the beautiful painting, one based on the interplay between the naturalism of the details and the expression of gratia. Yet even a technically sound painting that overlays a “graceful” one weakens or destroys that painting’s value. Perhaps one must refine the meaning of artifex and pictor. Do the terms suggest the exceptional pairing of technical ability—that which renders form—and the ability to impart charis, or that which gives a special quality of life? The idea of painting over a masterpiece at a loss of value was not simply part of an elitist discussion of good art, but importantly had precedent in Roman law. Elsner cited two passages especially germane to the passage under review.3838The second century jurist Gaius comments: What a man builds on my land becomes mine by natural law, although he built on his own account, because the superstructure goes with the land. . . . On the same principle, it has been held that what another has written on my paper or parchment, even in letters of gold, is mine, because the lettering goes with the paper or parchment. But if someone has painted on my panel, namely an image, the contrary is held, the opinion preferred being that the panel accedes to the image. The reason supporting this distinction is hardly satisfactory.3939

Much later, under Justinian, the law rearticulates that of Gaius: If one person paints on another’s board, there are some who think that the board accedes to the picture while others hold that the picture, whatever it be, accedes to the board. To us, however, it is preferable that the board accede to the painting. For it is absurd that a painting by Apelles or Parrhasius should, by accession, become part of a cheap board.4040 37 For example, Ambrose, Hex. 4.6.7.42. Earlier commentaries on sculptures and painted walls belong to wider discourses in the ancient sources, including Pliny, Callimachus, and others. 38 Elsner, Imperial Rome, 241-43, including translations of the following Institutes excerpts. 39 Institutes 2.73-80 (trans. F. de Zulueta). 40 Institutes 2.1.34 (trans. J. Thomas).

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These passages claim that, in some contexts, ownership of foundational materials (here land or paper) is predominant, which is not true for the board on which an exceptional painting is created. Elsner deduces from these passages, at least as an ideal if not in practice, that some special quality belonged to paintings, especially those of masters, to make the board accede to the painting, a relationship not found between land and building. As Elsner remarked, one can envisage the difficultly of proving the gratia belonging to the hand of a great master.41 41 At any rate, these passages suggest the belief that good art depended on line, color, and shadow; extraordinary art, to the point of immortal renown and thus value beyond the board, required something exceptional in an inexpressible aspect of execution. The converse too is interesting here, especially since Ambrose addresses it. If the hand of a master could alter the ownership of the board, what if the hand was not of a master? Would it remain part of the board, just as letter to the paper, or a building to the land? If so, then for Ambrose, the woman who paints herself with her inferior hand has tied the painting (that is, her appearance) to the base mass of the board (that is, the flesh), rather than remaining under the ownership of the patron of that board, a patron who in this case is God, the artifex and pictor extraordinaire, who originally created the board/body and the painting/person imbued with life. Do not wish to erase the painting of God and to add the painting of a prostitute, because it was written: “Will I destroy the limbs of Christ and will I fashion the limbs of a prostitute? It would be wrong!” (1 Cor. 6.15) But whoever would falsify the work of God, that one commits a grave crime. For it is a grave crime for you to think that a human paints you better than God. It is grave that God could say about you: “I do not recognize my colors; I do not recognize my image; I do not recognize the portrait, which I myself fashioned. I cast back what is not mine. Seek that one who painted you. With that one have consortium; from that one take the grace for which you gave payment.”4242

Ambrose uses Scripture and traditional legal language to connect art law with divine. The reference to “falsifying God’s work” (adulterat opus dei) as “committing a grave crime” (grave crimen admittit) likely reminded viewers of the treasonous acts of counterfeiting coins with the emperor’s

41 Elsner, Imperial Rome, 243: “If a case of this sort ever came to court, the lawyers must have seen themselves in the unenviable position of judging the disputed image’s artistic quality . . . .” 42 Ambrose, Hex. 6.9.8.47.

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image or in any way altering or even disrespecting their images.43 Alteration also could devalue the worth of art objects popularly and aesthetically. Nero, infatuated with Lysippos’s sculpture of Alexander the Great as a boy, gilt it, an act which Pliny relates increased its monetary worth but diminished its artistic charisma, its gratia artis.44 In another way, a prostitute could appear nude and, if physically beautiful, demand a high price. A Roman woman of good standing was not to engage in such a vile practice, the value of her position not expressed in monetary terms but in her social position and freedom. A prostitute was stripped of such gratia and thus existed more as object.4545Still, an artist and a prostitute had to make a living, and even if their careers could be morally corrupt, they could be profitable. Fault, therefore, lies with the consumer. Opt to acquire what is virtuous and the market for what is not will shrink. Unfortunately, for a virtuous artist to be successful, no law could protect the processes that made one artist or another famous. In order to help vault the career of Protogenes, who was not respected even in his homeland of Rhodes, Apelles forced him to sell paintings at a high price to himself, who said he would sell them as his own. The people of Rhodes suddenly began to appreciate Protogenes’ work, having heard Apelles' name associated with it.4646This story demonstrates that name and reputation created value, which could be artificially incited with the help of an influential supporter. Moreover, the artist’s own writing helped promote his reputation, describing and explaining his works and his thoughts.4747Then later Pliny himself, to continue the practice, furthered their reputations, now fully embedded in the historical tradition. Moreover, he has omitted those less desirable imitators, except as detestable examples, in his effort to teach his audience to have a more discerning eye. The best artists, those in possession of exceptional gratia and charis, could not be imitated. When Apelles died and left a painting unfinished, no 43

44

43 On coins, see Codex Theodosianus 9.21.5 and 9. On statues, Digest 48.4.7.4. On the destruction of imperial images in Antioch (387 AD), see Libanius, Orations 20 and 22. 44 Pliny, HN 34.19.63. 45 See Anise K. Strong, Prostitutes and Matrons in the Roman World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), especially 108, where she notes how Messalina, the wife of Claudius, was forced to ride in a garbarge cart, signaling that her actions had lowered her status to the more terrestrial level of meretrix. See also Thomas McGinn, Prostitution, Sexuality, and the Law in Ancient Rome (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998). 46 Pliny, HN 35.36.88. 47 Platt, “Artist as Anecdote,” 293-95.

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one could complete it, even though Apelles had left behind preparatory sketches.4848Similarly, Pliny alluded to a verse inspired by Zeuxis’ painting of a nude hero, which chided that it was easier for people “to carp at than to imitate.”49 49 If art was to sell, the people (individuals and communities) needed expert instruction and guidance to help them choose appropriate and worthy images, a Cicero for a Gallus, perhaps. Pliny laments the abundance of wealth that had resulted in uncultured purchases and commissions of luxury and produced his chapter on art to try to correct the course in the art market and its effect on Roman culture and morality itself.5050 Without a discerning eye, Rome could come to value Maenads over Muses, decorative effects over charis, surface beauty over the “something more behind it.” If everything is valued, nothing is. Standards had to be set and protected, in practice if not in law. The superior artwork’s inimitable quality gave it worth, its unalterable existence ensured its lasting, immortal value, and its scholars ensured the community could tell the difference. When Pliny wrote about the artists and their art, a series of books set within his magnum opus dedicated to describing all of nature’s wonders, his goal was to educate his readers and audience. His work in these books is superficially art history, offering little more than anecdotes and listing works.5151Rather, this effort approximates art appreciation, explaining what characteristics made the artist and the art famous. The special quality of certain works, the je ne sais quoi, could not be easily described. Pliny might refer to formal characteristics, such as Apelles’ line, that excel others, although these attributes can only explain physical form. To describe the incorporeal characteristics, Pliny was forced to rely on words like gratia and charis, and the reader’s understanding of these metaphysical terms. The aesthetic of genre painting (and of other types) has many levels of appreciation. Norman Bryson’s study of still life paintings examines the vitality of Roman genre scenes including plant and creature.5252This study is particularly rewarding because it illustrates just how much life exists in a painting of plucked fruit and dead birds, or so an educated viewer acknowledges. A short foray into the Elder Philostratus’ Imagines makes this point clear. The naturalistic effects of the painting may trap the eye or may draw it more deeply into a consideration of human qualities such as

48

Pliny, HN 35.36.92. Pliny, HN 35.36.63. 50 See, for example, Pliny, HN 35.1-2, 32, although the sentiment can be found throughout his discussion of the arts. 51 Platt, “Artist as Anecdote,” 274-304. 52 Bryson, Looking. 49

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emotion and intelligence, a point Philostratus regularly stresses.53 A contemplation of the objects depicted and a consideration of the artist’s goals can lead the educated viewer to see in a painting the generative power of nature and the role of human effort, of natural abundance and cultural luxury, of natural equality and of social division.5454 Ambrose recognized too this multi-level appreciation of beauty. For example, he presents an image of the sea, displaying a mental picture, noting first impressions then demanding more from the viewer. 53

Beautiful is the appearance (species) of this element [the sea], either when it grows white with surging crests and caps of waves, and the cliffs drip with snowy spray, or when, with the surface rippling and then made smooth by gentler breezes, the sea displays a color becoming the violet of serene tranquility, which even from far away frequently pours over those watching, when the sea no longer beats nearby shores with violent waves but rather encompasses and greets them as if with peaceful embraces. How sweet the sound, how pleasant the breaking of waves, how gratifying and harmonious the reverberation! I nevertheless judge the elegance (decorem) of its creation estimated not by the eyes but measured according to the plan of the enterprise to agree and to correspond with the intention of the director.5555

Ambrose identifies its attractive formal characteristics, including foam, white caps, billows, spray, shimmering, purple. Ambrose’s viewer, at first, is distant. Then Ambrose draws the viewer nearer, enveloped in the sound of the waves against the shore, pleasing and rhythmic. The cause of these characteristics are surges and breezes. Note too that Ambrose makes its colors verbal: the sea becomes white (albescit) and its surface becomes violet (purpurescentem). Who or what directs these forces? The unspoken artist. And the result? Purple tranquility and peace. Grace and charm. Ambrose directs one to see the work of the creator behind the masterpiece, and from there to see the plan, harmony, and intention. Thus, Ambrose judges not the creation but its decorem, a word which can mean elegance or beauty, particularly as it relates to its core meaning; that is, to be fitting or suitable. 56 To conclude, Ambrose contrasts estimating with the eyes (extimatum, a word often linked to establishing currency value) and measuring (definitum) for concordance with the designer's plan, directing his audience to practice the latter.

53

For two fruitful examples, see Perseus (1.29) and Pantheia (2.9). Bryson, Looking, 17-59. 55 Ambrose, Hex. 3.4.5.21. 56 Cf. Cicero, De legibus 2.45: “color autem albus praecipue decorus deo est.” 54

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This ekphrasis, albeit here of a living image, falls under rhetorical training, not unlike the epigrams to Venus or Philostratus’ Imagines. Ambrose’s point is that the sea’s beauty delights the human eye at the initial encounter, evoking thought and feeling beyond the eye’s corporeal appreciation of the view. With careful attention, the mind or soul is inspired even more by the image because it reveals God’s gratia, as pictor and artifex. While any human can appreciate the beauty and excellence of creation from a distance, Ambrose urges the viewer to look differently, to delve more deeply, and to understand more. He wishes to teach his audience to search for meaning beyond the tangible, an instruction that follows the pedagogical efforts of authors such as Pliny and Philostratus. In part, this aspect of beauty, namely that any person, however uneducated, can recognize it, frustrated Plato.57 57 As a form, an ideal of beauty exists, especially to be found in the work of nature. Anything in imitation is derivative and, in the case of painting, prone to mislead viewers. To lie to them. Plato was therefore suspicious of painting because it could so easily push and pull people to believe in something unreal. If employed respectfully, however, art and poetry had the potential to lead people to virtue and to encourage them to seek and to identify what is truly beautiful. Later philosophy also addressed the image, beauty, and truth. Although more interested in patterns and moral interpretations, Stoic approaches as found in Cicero (if likely colored by other philosophical schools) also urged the viewer to look beyond the illusion.5858Good morals and virtue should be at the core of human images, and when these parts agree, true beauty appears. For Marcus Aurelius, baked bread with its irregular cracks was beautiful not in the perfection of its details, but the harmony of those parts that made it bread.59 Plotinus, whose work set the foundation for Neoplatonism current in Ambrose’s time and present in Ambrose’s works, furthered the treatment of beauty and image. Perhaps not surprisingly, he asserted the need to see with the soul, not with the eyes.6060This type of vision allows one to see the harmony of parts, virtue, and ultimately the Good.6161In a way similar to Aurelius’ understanding of beautiful baked bread, a rock could be pulchritudinous for Plotinus.6262Ultimately, Plotinus could write that an 59

57

Plato, Republic 10; Oleg V. Bychov and Anne Sheppard, Greek and Roman Aesthetics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), xiv-xix; 52-67. 58 Bychov and Sheppard, Aesthetics, xxiii-xiv. 59 Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, trans. Maxwell Staniforth (London: Penguin Books, 1964), 3.1. 60 Plotinus, Enneads 1.6.1-5, Bychov and Sheppard, Aesthetics, 185-89. 61 Plotinus, Enn. 1.6.6, Bychov and Sheppard, Aesthetics, 191. 62 Plotinus, Enn. 1.6.2, Bychov and Sheppard, Aesthetics, 186.

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ugly person was more beautiful than a beautiful statue simply because the human had life, had a soul.6363 The philosophical understanding of great paintings agrees with the descriptions of such paintings in Pliny and Philostratus. All human beings can appreciate beauty from a distance, but true recognition of beauty rests in the ability to discern the unseen excellence, gratia, and virtue which support the visual. The appreciation of beauty in God’s creation is a central theme in Basil’s Hexameron and had unique manifestations in Byzantine art.6464Anne Karahan argues that Byzantine art, lacking perspective and the subtleties of three-dimensional form, is meant to draw the viewer’s attention first to the corporeal world, only to redirect it to the divine, which cannot be seen or expressed. In the end, the viewer is to “focus on the spiritual light.”6565The spiritual light or the divine spark is what lies behind all of creation and what must be acknowledged by the (Christian) human viewer. In fact, God gave humans this capacity to discern the invisible and to appreciate the divine.6666 The educated, however, can see the unique excellence, the singular genius below the surface features.6767In a passage preceding the excerpt at the center of this study, Ambrose calls for his audience to “know oneself” (te ipsum scito), the well-known precept, to focus on the mind and soul (animam ac mentem) not the corporeal. He continues with a metaphor where he defines the well painted human being as one painted by virtues. That soul is painted by God, which holds in itself the flashing grace (gratiam renitentem) of virtues and the splendor of piety. That soul is well painted in which shines the effigy of divine operation. That soul is well painted in which are the splendor of glory and the image of its paternal substance. After this image, which flashes, is the precious picture (pictura pretiosa). Following this image was Adam before sin, but when he lapsed, he put aside this heavenly image, and assumed an earthly copy (effigies). Let us flee this image, which is not able to enter the city of God, because it was written: “Lord, in your city you will drive back their image to nothing” (Ps 72.20).6868

While Ambrose borrows or restates Basil’s work regularly, the image of God as pictor is not developed in Basil. Ambrose has defined the ideal 63

Plotinus, Enn. 6.7.22, 24-36, Bychov and Sheppard, Aesthetics, 197. Anne Karahan, “Beauty in the Eyes of God: Byzantine Aesthetics and Basil of Caesarea,” Revue Internationale des Études Byzantines 82 (2012): 165-212. 65 Karahan, Eyes of God, 186. 66 Basil, Hexameron 7.5; see Karahan, Eyes of God, 195-99. 67 Plotinus, Enn. 1.6.4, Bychov and Sheppard, Aesthetics, 188. 68 Ambrose, Hex. 6.9.7.42. 64

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beauty, that divine radiance, which can only be seen now in the “shining grace of virtues and the splendor of piety.” His reference to a painting’s virtue, piety, grace, and divine operation, and its paternal nature, is not at odds with the painter’s goal to render nature as perfectly as possible. The best traditional artist renders the charm of nature, its generative power and its vivacity, and reveals his singular hand. The work of this artist is not simply a decorated product, some cheap imitation, a repainted board for terrestrial purchase; this one is the valuable painting, pictura pretiosa. Ambrose’s Christian viewer must be able to discern the truly valuable painting if that viewer is to join the heavenly community. Ambrose’s Christian viewer sees an order to the universe behind the carefully executed lines and colors.69 In that image is the planning, organization, effort, and creativity that lead to the final, beautiful outcome, an outcome that makes these aspects of the creator available for the viewer to comprehend.7070To paint over this image is likened to the gaudy colors Vitruvius cites, which might give immediate sensory appeal but lack the true genius of the great artist. This great artifex and pictor of human beings, Ambrose writes, works on each part, then later skillfully fashions the parts together in a process of working and reworking, but God can praise each part as he creates it, knowing already the end result. Ambrose asserts, “True beauty (vera pulchritudo), indeed, is that which would be fitting (deceat) in each part and in the whole, so that the charm in each part and the full appropriateness of the form in the completed work are worthy of commendation.”71 After Ambrose’s earlier comparison between truth and pigment, wax and grace, the truth is seen in the field of corporeal vision, which is laid over the waxy foundation of grace, and is recognized in the concordance of the parts with each other and with the (God's) overall plan.72 Ambrose’s interpretation of God as artist and nature as his painting, from the wild to the civilized and from plant to person, bears two important consequences for the moment. First, if God is the blameless designer and painter, then the critic can find no fault in the painting. Therefore, to see virtue, piety, and divine operation in the work falls solely on the viewer’s ability and desire to see it, as it was for Zeuxis. Our eyes, Ambrose explains, let us appreciate natural beauty, but we must look with the mind and the 69

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69 Cf. Ambrose, Hex. 1.1.4.16: Heaven and earth are the sum of invisible things and appear as adornments of the world and as testimony of invisible things. 70 Ambrose, Hex. 1.1.5.17. 71 Ambrose, Hex. 2.3.5.21. Pliny, HN 35.36.76, offers the example of Eupompus, the first artist to be well educated in arithmetic and geometry, necessary for artistic perfection, according to the artist. 72 Ambrose, Hex. 3.4.5.21.

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heart.7373Second, all that is visible is subject to art appreciation informed by traditional viewing culture and by text. Instruction on this matter, however, must come from a proper judge, as Vitruvius warns, otherwise the viewer pulls at painted curtains, so to speak. Third century elite Romans needed Philostratus, an intermediary between the art and, for example, Homer; fourth century Milanese needed Ambrose, an intermediary between image and Scripture.7474 Yet, that true image must remain somewhat dimmed for the viewer’s eye. Apelles, Pliny tells us, developed a shadowy, glassy varnish, visible only when close enough to touch it, to dim the brightness of his paintings’ colors.7575According to Ambrose, God had to allow shadow to accommodate the weakness of human eyes.7676No matter how close one might get to the genius of the true master artist through his works, some separation inevitably remains because the viewer cannot see all of the creator in his works. No amount of training can change the fact that corporeal human eyes cannot withstand the full brilliance of the image.7777 To this point, the viewer as individual has been identified as primarily responsible for reading images. He should identify the best artists and appreciate their artworks for the technical mastery and for the charis. Although the authors presented here, such as Pliny and Plotinus, often speak as if addressing a single person (Titus, for example, was Pliny’s primary audience), their audience was considerably broader. Pliny wrote to socially elite Romans; Plotinus spoke to the philosophical elite. The Elder Philostratus’ fictional address to school children more likely meant an informed elite ignorant of art and its iconographical and semiotic depths. They educated their readers so that they could join and fruitfully participate in a certain type of community. This educated community would know how to avoid misinterpretation or appreciation of special but cheap, immoral effects and to seek and to comprehend the rational, emotional, moral, and spiritual aspects that lie 73 Ambrose, Hex. 1.2.9.34: Light has no corporeal form. One cannot measure or weigh it, but one can still sense it. 74 Compare, for example, how Philostratus urges his students to refer to the Iliad (Imagines 1.1) and Ambrose tells his audience to open their ears to Scripture when evidence before the eyes is weak (Hex. 4.6.2.5). 75 Pliny, HN 35.36.97. 76 Ambrose, Hex. 4.6.6.27. 77 One might consider how divinities in ancient myth would not reveal their full brilliance to mortals. See also on God’s divine brightness, overwhelming to mortal eyes, suggested in Ambrose’s description of the sun, Hex. 4.6.1.1-2; cf. Ambrose, De Isaac vel anima 7.57, 8.79; De bono mortis 3.11, 10.47, 11.49.

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below the formal ones. Misinterpretations occurred when one studied the image without the proper training, or ignored that training, and also when one created—or altered—an image. What one creates reflects the traits of the creator, but what one visually appreciates, the images one values, reflect the characteristics of the viewer. Plotinus makes this point explicitly.7878What one appreciates visually, what beauty one values, will be reflected in one’s own person. Ambrose, in fact, follows Plotinus rather closely in this respect.7979 Communities figure largely in Pliny’s work, commissioning, purchasing, and celebrating various masterpieces. To return to the Aphrodite of Knidos, for example, the community associated itself with that particular Aphrodite, and its reputation persisted not only in epigrams and literary works, but also no doubt in the verbal tales pilgrims told about their own experiences. The cult statue itself even appeared at times on the reverse of Caracalla’s coinage. If a community chooses images for public consumption, establishing their value by their selection and public display, the community educates itself on beautiful form, humanness, morals, and virtues. The community’s public artworks reveal the community’s character ideals. Knidos becomes renowned as a primary cult site to Aphrodite/Venus as fertility goddess. The place was viewed as idyllic, filled with love, beauty, and pleasure. Yet the nudity of the cult statue suggests, according to the repeated legend noted earlier, that Knidos and at least some of its visitors have transgressed decorum, leading to disastrous results.8080 Ambrose spills much ink trying to urge his audience to see in a new way, for a new age. As Ambrose put it simply, there is no shame in passing to better things.81 Ambrose calls upon traditional ways of seeing and standard notions of beauty, expressed by literary authors, historians, philosophers, early Christian writers, and more. The aesthetic for the Christian community depends on seeing the “something more behind it” of God’s masterpieces. To see this way both embraces traditional Greco-Roman aesthetics while at the same time undermines them. For example, where Apelles’ transparent dark wash reduced light to better reveal the colors, Ambrose has God’s dimmed light reduce the shadows to unveil the colors. This contrast, where Apelles darkens the artwork but God the light itself, demonstrates that even human masters and their works are merely cheap imitations of God, the 81

78 79

Plotinus, Enn. 5.8.1-2. “One is much affected by what one sees.” Ambrose, De bono mortis 6.25, SAEMO

3. 80

So Pliny’s anecdote, which begins by describing the excellence of the sculpture but ends by noting the transgression of the stain (HN 36.4.21). 81 Ambrose, Ep. 17.7.

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supreme artist, and nature, his inimitable masterpiece. In that way, Ambrose has reworked Pliny’s Nature, the divine artifex, which provides simple medicines to heal, medicines that humans make complicated and inferior through arrogance and a drive for luxury.8282Ambrose’s God is that divine artifex, the one who gave nature its power, and whose work humans too often copy for selfish reasons. Ambrose’s contemporary John Chrysostom proposed that one’s soul is like a painting after the colors have been applied, since at that point no changes can be made.8383Ambrose likely would agree but would add that humans paint over the image. That temporal painting, that makeup of the prostitute, washes away, however. Might one imagine Peter’s tears of penitence here, recalled from other works and words of Ambrose, perhaps even connecting them to the rain and sweat that wipe away the deceitful, temporal painting near the beginning of the passage under consideration?8484For now, if the individual, using Ambrose and Scripture as guides, can learn to see the virtues and truth in the world and to allow these characteristics to appear in the viewer himself, he may follow them to God’s gratia and his living portrait may join God’s company. Let us accustom our eyes to see what is bright and clear, to look upon the face of continence and of moderation and all the virtues, in which there is nothing troublesome, obscure, and complicated. Let one look upon oneself and one’s own conscience; let one cleanse that inner eye so that it may not contain any dirt. For what is seen ought not to clash with him who sees, since God wished we be conformed to the image of his son.8585

Humans, therefore, as God’s art, are extensions of his character, of his divinity. The human being is not to be judged so much by appearance but by how well he lives life in accordance with God. If not, then like Adam, and echoing the Roman damnatio memoriae, his image will be removed from God’s city. The ultimate goal of seeing this way, of embracing this aesthetic, is to enter that consortium with God, to return to the city which Adam was forced to leave.8686The communities for which the viewer/reader/audience strove

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Pliny, HN 22.56.117. John Chrysostom, Ad illuminandos catechesis 2.3, PG 49.235. 84 Ambrose, Hexameron 6.9.8.47. On Peter’s tears washing away sin, see Ambrose Ep. 80.7; hymn, “Aeterne Rerum Conditor”; and especially, Hex. 5.8.24.88-90. 85 Ambrose, De Isaac vel anima 8.79, SAEMO 3. 86 Ambrose, Hex. 6.9.8.47. Also in Basil; see Karahan Eyes of God, especially 19394, 200-207. 83

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reflected the separation between bad and good art, ignorant and knowledgeable, temporal and immortal. And thus: The unworthy image does not enter and which one might enter is shut out, because “he will not enter,” he says, “in this entire community, who makes a curse and a lie” (Apoc. 21.27). That one, however, will enter into it, on whose forehead is inscribed the name for the lamb.8787

The passage from Ambrose’s Hexameron that has served as the subject of this case study notably belongs to a context, where, at Hexameron 6.9.8.44, Ambrose endeavors to define the meaning of ad imaginem diei, “to the image of God,” regarding the creation of humans. God has taken Nature’s title of artifex, as Pliny named it, to be the one who sets the forms of life. He is also the painter, which not only instills life, but rationality, emotion, virtues, morals, and more, or, in general, gratia and charis. Ambrose uses the metaphor of painting, tapping into traditional approaches to and interpretations of art and artists and even referring to established valuations of them. By viewing rightly the pictura pretiosa on earth and thus striving to become that image, the viewer not only finds himself among a special terrestrial community that shares the same virtues and values, but also is prepared to join the heavenly one, when the time comes. That community, as Ambrose sees it, will include consortium with God. Like a visual parable, reading an image in Ambrose’s Christian manner delineated those who do not understand and remain outside from those who do, those who see clearly and correctly and join the community, both temporal and eternal. Whereas Pliny’s or Philostratus’ art historical instruction helped the reader join the human society of cultured, virtuous, Roman elite, Ambrose’s theological, ethical, and visual pedagogy directed his diverse audience to God’s community of Christian-cultured viewers and believers.

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Ambrose, Hex. 6.9.7.42.

CHAPTER TEN AMBROSE AND TRUTH ALLAN FITZGERALD, O.S.A.

One significant Christian contribution to the Roman society of the first five centuries AD has a lot to do with the Christian understanding and practice of truth. In the Hebrew Scriptures, “truth” (ªemeth, ªemunah) primarily conveyed the notion of God’s faithfulness, a faithfulness revealed in the history of Israel. 1 In ancient Greek philosophy, aletheia appears to have been understood in terms of accuracy in regards to what was happening.2 Romans spoke of veritas as representing events in a factual way. 3 But Roman religion was ritualistic rather than philosophical, and social practice was not the same as speculation about truth—as Augustine indicates in his work on True Religion.4 Some, the Skeptics, did doubt the value of trying to know the truth, and Cicero seems to have been interested in the probable rather than in the truth. The Christian claim that there is one God—a God who revealed the truth and who was the truth—brought a new atmosphere along with it. No longer a matter of mere philosophical speculation, truth was affirmed as accessible on the basis of faith. In the New Testament, it is firmly tied to Jesus’ relationship with God the Father. Some aspect of truth is referenced ten 1 Edward Thomas Ramsdell, “The Old Testament Understanding of Truth,” Religion 31, no. 4 (October 1951): 264-73. 2 E.g., Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.1.2. See the discussion in Craig S. Keener, The Gospel of John: A Commentary, 2 vols. (Peabody, MA.: Hendrickson Publishers, 2003), 1.417–19. 3 E.g., Cicero, De inventione 2.53.161. See a parallel to John 18:27-8 in Cicero, De natura deorum 1.67: “Sed ubi est veritas?” (But where is truth?). When Jesus spoke to Pilate about a “kingdom” of truth, Pilate most likely would have thought of a kingdom of philosophers (e.g., Epictetus, Diatribai 3.22.49; Plutarch, Flatterer 16; Moralia 58E). Keener, John 1:418, says the “aborted dialogue of John 18:37–38 suggests that John is aware of competing cultural understandings of truth.” 4 Augustine, True Religion 3.3-6.

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times in the Synoptic Gospels and forty-eight times in the Gospel of John, whose whole purpose was to highlight the validity of Jesus’ claim that he is the Son of God (20:30–31 and 1:14; 14:6). Truth, for John, is summed up in his saying that God is truth; likewise is his Word the truth. In a third-century debate between Caecilius and Octavius, Octavius describes truth as having come of age in his time among Christians; 5 perhaps a recognition that it had become sufficiently important to be able to talk about it. By the end of the fourth century, Ambrose responded to the claim of Symmachus that there is no one truth in one god: “What you do not know, we know by the voice of God. What you seek by conjecture, we have obtained assurance about through the wisdom and the truth of God.” 6 Ambrose would use all the means at his disposal—his preaching, a reliance on the exemplary lives of saints, and interaction and debate with others—to show that there was but one truth, and it was found in God. That God, for Ambrose, was the true God (Deus verus).

Ambrose What, then, did Ambrose have to say about truth, whether it was in doctrinal or ethical terms? How was his belief in the true God translated into his thought and practice? Classically educated, one might suspect that Ambrose of Milan was taught to think of religion in ritual and practical rather than in philosophical terms. But Augustine does provide an image of Ambrose as a preacher, whose way of thinking and speaking was clearly about his desire to find truth: I made no effort to learn what Ambrose was saying, but was interested only in listening to how he said it . . . . Nonetheless as his words, which I enjoyed, penetrated my mind, the substance, which I overlooked, seeped in with them, for I could not separate the two. As I opened my heart to appreciate how skillfully he spoke, the recognition that he spoke truly (vere diceret) crept in at the same time, though only by slow degrees.7 5

Minucius Felix, Octavius 38.7: “Veritas diuinitatis nostril temporis aetate maturuit.” 6 Ambrose, Epistula 73.8. Cited by F. Chapot, Vérité et Virtus (Paris: Institut d’Études Augustiniennes, 2008), 9-10. 7 Augustine, Confessiones 5.14.24: Cum enim non satagerem discere quae dicebat, sed tantum quemadmodum dicebat audire (ea mihi quippe iam desperanti ad te viam patere homini inanis cura remanserat) veniebant in animum meum simul cum verbis, quae diligebam, res etiam, quas neglegebam. Neque enim ea dirimere poteram. Et dum cor aperirem ad excipiendum, quam diserte diceret, pariter intrabat et quam vere diceret, gradatim quidem.

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Shortly thereafter, he reaffirms that experience more forcefully: "I listened to him straightforwardly expounding the word of truth to the people every Sunday . . . ."8 What then was this truth that Ambrose set before Augustine? What place did it have in Ambrose’s life and teaching? Those questions, in fact, are not only a way of looking into Ambrose’s writings in an abstract way; they also have to interact with the way that some scholars have, in recent years, tended to interpret his descriptions of the social and political events of his time. For it is certainly important for historians to read the texts that have been preserved for us within their reallife context. Some may have been too generous in accepting Ambrose’s words as accurate; others have been concerned that Ambrose’s words— often the only witness to a given event—were accepted too quickly as accurate.9 Others question whether Ambrose was overly dependent on his sources10 or that he was lacking in originality.11 The plausibility of that view was enhanced by some rather oblique statements by Jerome about Ambrose's work on the Holy Spirit.12 Some also read Ambrose as the kind of powerful figure who could not only use his authority to overcome contemporary opposition but could also make the impression he wanted on 8

Conf. 6.3.4: Et eum quidem in populo verbum veritatis recte tractantem omni die dominico audiebam . . . . See also 6.4.6: "The possibility of healing was, ironically, within my reach if only I had been willing to believe, because then I could with a more purified mind have focused my gaze on your truth, which abides for ever and is deficient in nothing.” (Et sanari credendo poteram, ut purgatior acies mentis meae dirigeretur aliquo modo in veritatem tuam semper manentem et ex nullo deficientem.) 9 J. W. H. G. Liebeschuetz, Ambrose of Milan: Political Letters and Speeches (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2005), 46: “Ambrose’s own publicity” was a way to “control posterity’s view” of him. 10 See, for example, H. Hagendahl, Latin Fathers and the Classics (Goteborg: n.p., 1958), 850-72, and K. Zelzer, Randbemerkungen zu Absicht mid Arbeitsweise des Ambrosius in De officiis, Wiener Studien 107/108 (1994/95): 481-93. 11 K. Zelzer, “L’etica di sant’Ambrogio e la tradizione stoica delle virtù,” in L’etica cristiana nei secoli III e IV (Rome: Institutum patristicum Augustinianum, 1996), 47-56. H. Savon, “Ambroise lecteur d’ Origène,” in Nec timeo mori: Atti del Congresso internazionale di studi ambrosiani nel XVI centenario della morte di Sant’Ambrogio: Milan, 4-11 aprile 1997, Studia patristica Mediolanensia 21 (Milan: Vita et Pensiero, 1998), 221–34. 12 D. G. Hunter, “The raven replies: Ambrose’s ‘Letter to the Church at Vercelli’ (Ep. ex. coll. 14) and the criticisms of Jerome,” in Jerome of Stridon. His life, writings, and legacy, ed. A. Cain and J. Lössl (Farnham, England: Ashgate, 2009), 175-89.

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later centuries;13 as if he had any control over the way others would read his works or as if his enemies would have remained passive.

Ambrose’s De officiis To begin to respond to those questions it will be useful to look at Ambrose’s De officiis as one way to develop an idea of his Christian interpretation of his classical education—specifically as it relates to his understanding of truth. Written for Milanese clerics, that work was also linked to the cultural shift that was happening at that time. How, in fact, was his classical background and language being transformed by his Christian experience? About halfway through the first book of that treatise, Ambrose appealed to truth-seeking as a correspondence between thought and action, calling it a common dimension of human experience: By their very nature as human beings, then, all have an instinct to investigate the true, for nature herself impels us to show an enthusiasm for understanding and knowledge; it instils in us a yearning for enquiry. To excel in this area is regarded as a great thing by people everywhere, but it is given to only a few to attain it. . . . In fact, an enthusiasm for knowledge without the actions that should go with it may very well prove more of a hindrance than a help.14

He thus situates the search for truth—for that which is true—at the heart of the unity between thinking and acting; it is more than a merely intellectual

13 N. McLynn, Ambrose of Milan Milan: Church and Court in a Christian Capital (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), xiv, holds that Ambrose’s stature was so great that he could appear to be “beyond the reach of his contemporaries.” M. Proulx, “Patres Orphanorum: Ambrose of Milan and the Construction of the Role of the Bishop,” in The Rhetoric of Power in Late Antiquity: Religion and Politics in Byzantium, Europe and the Early Islamic World, ed. Elizabeth DePalma Digeser, Justin Stephens, and R. M. Frakes (New York: Tauris Academic Studies, 2010), 7597, esp. 81, 85, and 87, holds that Ambrose was trying to “create the impression that he was an imperial insider.” 14 Ambrose, De officiis 1.26.125: Omnibus igitur hominibus inest secundum naturam humanam uerum inuestigare, quae nos ad studium cognitionis et scientiae trahit et inquirendi infundit cupiditatem. In quo excellere uniuersis pulchrum uidetur sed paucorum est adsequi . . . Nam studia scientiae sine factis haud scio an etiam inuoluant magis.

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exercise. 15 But one looks in vain for much explicit reflection on this perception. The search for truth does not appear to be at the forefront of his concerns in this work whose primary focus is on the virtues of prudence, courage, justice and temperance. With that in mind, the study of the De officiis will look for that which is implicit in how Ambrose understands virtue, truth, faith, and honesty in this work. A few words about this work will set the concerns expressed in his just-quoted words in historical context. In Ambrose’s time, authors tended to use the very beginning (exordium) of a work to set the tone or even to define the context for all which would follow. That is what Ambrose does at the beginning of his De officiis, as Klaus Zelzer explains:16 At the beginning of his work, before the systematic Christian treatment of the four virtues, Ambrose very thoughtfully sets humility, the main Christian virtue since the time of saint Paul, but which was foreign to pagan thought [Augustine, Conf. 7.18.24 and 21.27]. St. Ambrose thus makes it the foundation of his whole work, the foundation of the ethical practice of the Christian, eliminating right away any possibility of an interpretation in terms of pagan philosophy.17

By talking about humility at the very beginning of this work, Ambrose is not only setting a tone for the rest of the work. He is also announcing that his work is quite clearly and specifically Christian; that is, not a repetition

15Ambrose’s criticism of philosophers and of philosophy is well known. See, for example, G. Madec, Saint Ambroise et la philosophie (Paris: Études augustiniennes, 1974). See Off. 2.9.49: “Therefore, let us retain this fourfold division in deference to popular opinion so that we can stay away from the pointless discussions of philosophy and of wisdom—brought out from some shrine to refine truth—we can follow everyday usage and the meaning intended by ordinary people.” (Sit ergo nobis communis opinionis gratia quadripartita haec facta diuisio ut ab illa subtili disputatione philosophiae sapientiaeque—limandae ueritatis causa quasi ex adyto quodam eruitur—retrahentes pedem, forensem usum ac popularem sensum sequamur.) 16 Zelzer, “L’etica,” 47-56. See too, A. Michel, “Du De officiis de Cicéron à Saint Ambroise,” L’etica cristiana nei secoli III e IV, Rome: Institutum Patristicum Augustinianum, 1996), 39-46. 17 Zelzer, “L’etica,” 50: “All’inizio della sua opera, ancora prima della sistematica trattazione cristiana delle quattro virtù, con molta consapevolezza pone l’umiltà, la principale virtù cristiana già dal tempo di San Paolo, ma ch’era estranea al pensiero dei pagani. Sant’Ambrogio ne fa il fondamento dell’intera opera, il fondamento dell’operare etico del cristiano, eliminandone subito ogni possibilità di interpretazioni filosofiche pagane al riguardo.”

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of or merely derivative from the De officiis of Cicero.18 He thus identifies this work as distinctive namely as a treatise on the responsibility that Christians have to pursue virtue in a humble way. His methodology, moreover, is also different from that of Cicero. He develops his ideas on the basis of biblical figures—examples that are inevitably in contrast with Roman heroic or exemplary figures. That is why, at the very beginning, Ambrose appeals to David, naming him a master of humility, and citing Psalm 33 in support of that characterization: I will not appear presumptuous, I trust, if I take the attitude of a teacher among my children; for the master of humility himself said: Come, children, listen to me: I will teach you the fear of the Lord (Ps 33:11). In these words can be seen both grace and the humility of his modesty (In quo licet et humilitatem uerecundiae eius spectare et gratiam).19

King David—a favorite among the biblical figures upon whom Ambrose relies as examples—will be one of many “moral and spiritual guides” in this work. Although the overall framework of this work does bear more than a little resemblance to that of Cicero, Ambrose's appeal to biblical examples is a way to affirm his oft-repeated conviction that biblical thought is better because it is more ancient.20 Ambrose used biblical wisdom in the way a Roman orator might have used the classical tradition: the more ancient an idea, the more worthy of attention and respect. The opening paragraphs of the De officiis, thus describe David as both a “master of humility" and also "of true wisdom and happiness.”21 By placing his teaching in the care of David, as it were, Ambrose also sets the fear of 18

Ivor Davidson, “A Tale of Two Approaches: Ambrose, Off. 1.1-22 and Cicero, De Officiis 1.1-6,” The Journal of Theological Studies 52, no. 1 (April 2001): 61-83. In his Ambrose: De officiis, Davidson calls humility “the antithesis of pagan Gloria.” Ivor Davidson, ed. and trans., Commentary, vol. 2 of Ambrose: De officiis (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 442. 19 Ambrose, Off. 1.1.1: “Non adrogans uideri arbitror si inter filios suscipiam adfectum docendi, cum ipse humilitatis magister dixerit: “Venite, filii audite me; timorem Domini docebo uos”. In quo licet et humilitatem uerecundiae eius spectare et gratiam.” 20 Ambrose frequently maintained that pagan authors were not to be credited with originality or true wisdom. He finds many occasions to connect their sayings with those of Scripture. See Ep. 7.28 (and paragraphs 25-29): “Quanto antiquior, quanto vetustior David! Agnoscant ergo de nostris se habere, quaecumque praestantiora locuti sunt.” Cf. Off. 1.31; Expositio Psalmorum 118 2.13. 21 K. Zelzer, “L’etica,” 51: “maestro di umiltà e quindi della vera sapienza e beatitudine.”

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God as the basis for human searching whose goal is shared by all; that is, for wisdom and happiness. Zelzer notes the difference in the way that searching is described: “Just as the Stoics could only attain happiness through virtue, so was it that the Christian attained happiness only through a life of humility that accords with the will of God.”22 David’s life thus provides the foundation for that which Ambrose will say about virtue in the rest of this book and specifically in relation to the cardinal virtues, prudence, justice, courage, and temperance.23 Then, in the third paragraph of this work, Ambrose proposes another dimension to Christian life and responsibility when he says that Jesus Christ is the only true (verus) teacher. Although he can say that David is a teacher of humility—and humility is the way of truth for Ambrose24—something more had to be said: For there is only one true teacher (magister), who never had to learn all that he taught everyone else: in this he is unique. Human beings must learn beforehand what they are to teach and receive from him what they are to pass on to others.25

What he said about David as a teacher in the first paragraph of De officiis is, in the third, tied to the only true teacher, Jesus Christ. Ambrose thus says that Christ did not have to learn to be teacher, thus suggesting that David 22 K. Zelzer, “L’etica,” 51: “come per la Stoa la beatitudine è raggiunta soltanto con la virtù, cosí essa viene conseguita dal Cristiano solo con una vita in umiltà e in coerenza con il volere di Dio.” 23 K. Zelzer, “L’etica,” 50: “eliminandone subito ogni possibilità di interpretazioni filosofiche pagane al riguardo.” 24 See below, n. 30. Ambrose, Off. 2.123: “. . . is a vero devius superbit, quoniam veritatis ea est regula, ut nihil facias commendandi tui causa, quo minor alius fiat, neque habeas, si quid boni habeas, id ad deformationem alterius et vituperationem exerceas.” 25 Ambrose, Off. 1.1.3: “Unus enim verus magister est qui solus non didicit quod omnes doceret; homines autim discunt prius quod doceant et ab illo accipiunt quod aliis tradant.” See too Exp. Ps. 118 20.3: “The best of our effort is that we may grow in humility, may seek the truth; the one who is self-important, inflated with a carnal mentality and not keeping his head, does not see this. . . . The one who is inflated does not keep his head, that is, the very humility of Christ whereby he humbled himself on the cross. . . . This humility is the head of all virtues . . . .” (Omnis autem summa est studii nostri, ut simus humiliores, veritatem sequamur, quam non videt extollens se frustra, inflatus mente carnis suae et non tenens caput. . . . Inflatus ergo caput non tenet, hoc est illam Christi humilitatem qua descendit usque ad crucem. . . . Haec humilitas uirtutum omnium caput est.) This is the section of Psalm 118 entitled “Res,” a word Ambrose defines as “head” (caput).

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did. At the same time, he is affirming that there is a personal link between the promise of the Old Testament and its fulfillment in the Christ of the New Testament. Humility is that link. Implicitly, Ambrose is also saying that David had to learn what he taught about humility from the only true teacher. Once again, Ambrose reinforces the distinctive Christian vision of duty. Parenthetically, it may also be useful to note a different appreciation of that which Ambrose says about himself in the following paragraph, that is, the meaning of Ambrose's words about having to teach before he had a chance to learn. The inclination of scholars to interpret those words as nothing more than a lament or a kind of self-depreciation or a lack of education usually fail to notice that the focus is on Christ as the only one who did not have to learn. Ambrose wants to be like the apostles, whose attentiveness to the divine Scriptures is the path he has chosen to follow. That is, after all, the final duty of the saints. 26 In order to rise to that challenge, Ambrose has simply acknowledged that Jesus Christ is the only one who can be truly the teacher (unus enim uerus magister est). That is, after all, the attitude that a minister of the altar of Christ ought to have.27 The fact that he is being truthful about his relation to Christ, as well as to those he is supposed to teach can reassure readers that he will be truthful in other matters as well.

Truth in the De officiis In Ambrose's work humility is the attitude that defines his relationship with others; that is, knowing oneself truly and presenting oneself in a nonpretentious way. Ambrose affirms: "The humility that is praised is not ignorant, but it reflects modesty and self-knowledge.28 For Ambrose, truth (veritas) is not merely/only an ethical category. To live in an ethical or moral way is to practice the virtues; virtue, in other words, is a way to know and to love the truth; ethical living is a condition for knowing what is true. 26

Ambrose, Off. 1.1.3: sed tantummodo intentionem et diligentiam circa Scripturas diuinas opto adsequi quam ultimam posuit apostolus inter officia sanctorum; et hanc ipsam ut docendi studio possim discere. 27 Ambrose, Off. 1.20.88-89: "We have received a ministry to serve at the altars of Christ, not a duty to pay homage to human beings. It is right for us to be humble … to preserve due measure in everything we do." (Ministerium altaribus Christi, non obsequium hominibus deferendum recepimus. Humiles decet esse, mites decet, mansuetos, graues, patientes, modum tenere in omnibus, ut nullum uitium esse in moribus uel tacitus uultus uel sermo adnuntiet.) 28 Ambrose, Off. 2.17.90: “Non ergo indocta humilitas sed quae habeat sui modestiam et scientiam, laudi datur.”

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Although he also affirms that the truth is more than that which we can know because it is in some way part of the life that is to come: Stop judging like a child, speaking like a child, thinking like a child, and behaving like a child by laying claim to things which belong to an age yet to come. The crown is for those who are perfect. Wait until that which is perfect comes, when . . . you are able to recognize the actual form of the truth which at present is hidden.29

But all are called to know what is true so as to be able to make good choices. “The function of thought is to seek out that which is true.”30 In another place, after talking about false humility, Ambrose says, "The rule of truth dictates that you should never behave in a way that is false so as to win commendation at a cost to someone else, and it says that if there is any good in you, you are not to exploit it to denigrate or disparage your neighbor in any way."31 Ambrose will again use the example of David's response to Shimei, the man who disparaged him and threw stones at him,32 to show what he means by the practice of the virtue of humility. He comments: "Look how he maintained humility and justice and prudence, all of which would merit him favor from the Lord."33 Humility, therefore, is not one virtue among many; all of the virtues are inter-connected—a facet that Ambrose notes: "It is quite clear that these and all the other virtues are closely related to one another."34 Then, he continues, I have introduced this story to show you that holy David followed the spirit of the Gospel: far from displaying resentment, he was actually grateful to

29

Ambrose, Off. 1.16.62: “Noli igitur ut paruulus sapere, ut paruulus loqui, ut paruulus cogitare, ut paruulus uindicare ea quae sunt posterioris aetatis. Perfectorum est corona: exspecta ut ueniat quod perfectum est, quando non per speciem in aenigmate, sed facie ad faciem formam ipsam redopertae ueritatis possis cognoscere.” Cf. Off. 1.25.118: “Primi igitur nostri definierunt prudentiam in ueri consistere cognitione.” 30 Ambrose, Off. 1.22.98: “Cogitationes verum exquirere et quasi emolere muneris habent.” See Off. 1.24.115: “Where it is the virtue of prudence which makes us seek the true?” (Quarum primo loco constituerunt prudentiam quae in very investigatione versatur et scientiae plenioris infundit cupiditatem?); see 1.25.118 as well: “Primi igitur nostri definierunt prudentiam in ueri consistere cognitione.” 31 Ambrose, Off. 2.24.123. 32 Cf. Ambrose, Off. 1.6.21. 33 Ambrose, Off. 1.48.237: “Vide autem quomodo et humilitatem et iustitiam et prudentiam emerendae a Domino gratiae reseruauerit.” 34 Ambrose, Off. 1.28.127:

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the one who hurled abuse at him . . . so he used to say, 'Make me know, Lord, my final end and what the number of my days is . . . .35

He is looking for the days of eternal life "where perfection lies, where truth lies."36 He then continues: Here, what we have is only the shadow, here it is only the image, there, it will be the truth. The shadow is in the law, the image is in the gospel, the truth is in the heavenly realms. In times past it was a lamb that was offered . . . now it is Christ who is offered . . . here in the image, there in the truth. . . . While we are here, then, let us make sure that we preserve the image, so that we attain to the truth that awaits us there.37

Truth, therefore, is that which guides right action by being the goal; it is more than the rhetoric, more than the actions that point to it. Ambrose clarifies what he means by citing Job as having greater insight than can be found in Cicero’s interpretation of Plato’s Republic. Job, after all, provides an older and therefore purer wisdom about the way to find truth: Look how holy Job, who first discovered all this, predates all of [the philosophers]. Nor was it simply to embellish an argument that he thought he should offer such excuses. It was to establish the truth. And he unraveled the mystery himself without further ado, when he added this: "The lamp of the ungodly is snuffed out, and their destruction is yet to come." God is not deceived, he said, and he is the one who teaches us wisdom and gives us instruction: he is the judge of truth. An individual's happiness is not to be

35

Ambrose, Off. 1.48.238: “Quod ideo inservi ut evangelico spiritu sanctum David non solum inoffensum sed etiam gratum fuisse con vicianti docerem et delectatum potius quam exasperatum iniuriis, pro quibus mercedem sibi reddendam arbitrabatur. . . . et ideo dicebat: notum mihi fac, Domine, finem meum et numerum dierum meorum . . . .” 36 Ambrose, Off. 1.48.239. 37 Ambrose, Off. 1.48.239-40: “Hic umbra, hic imago, illic ueritas: umbra in Lege, imago in Euangelio, ueritas in caelestibus. Ante agnus offerebatur, offerebatur uitulus, nunc Christus offertur sed offertur quasi homo, quasi recipiens passionem; et offert se ipse quasi sacerdos ut peccata nostra dimittat, hic in imagine, ibi in ueritate ubi apud Patrem pro nobis quasi aduocatus interuenit. Hic ergo in imagine ambulamus, in imagine uidemus; illic facie ad faciem ubi plena perfectio quia perfectio omnis in ueritate est. Ergo dum hic sumus, seruemus imaginem ut ibi perueniamus ad ueritatem.”

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measured by the level of affluence he enjoys on the outside but by the state of his conscience within.38

Thus, “the function of thought is to seek out the true and, as it were, it has the duty of grinding it out,”39 setting thought in contrast with impulse and recognizing the effort that is required in the process of seeking that which is true. That search depends upon the virtue of prudence for Ambrose: “Prudence makes us seek the true and instills in us a yearning for ever deeper knowledge.”40 Referring to what he read in Cicero, Ambrose offers a general comment: Now they tell us that when we investigate the true we must keep a firm hold on what is seemly (decorus). This way, they say, we shall pursue the true with real dedication and not confuse false ideas with true ones or mix up true facts with abstruse speculations or clutter our minds with things which are pointless or involved or uncertain.41

Therefore, The rule of truth dictates that you should never behave in a way that is false so as to win commendation at a cost to someone else, and it says that if there is any good in you, you are not to exploit it to denigrate or disparage your neighbor in any way.42

38

Ambrose, Off. 1.12.44: “Quanto antiquior illis Iob qui haec primus repperit nec eloquentiae phalerandae gratia sed ueritatis probandae praemittenda aestimauit! Statimque ipse quaestionem enodem reddidit subiciens quod exstinguatur lucerna impiorum et futura sit eorum euersio, non falli Deum doctorem sapientiae et disciplinae sed esse ueritatis iudicem; et ideo non secundum forensem abundantiam aestimandam beatitudinem singulorum sed secundum interiorem conscientiam quae innocentium et flagitiosorum merita discernit, uera atque incorrupta poenarum praemiorum que arbitra. Moritur innocens in potestate simplicitatis suae, in abundantia propriae uoluntatis, sicut adipe repletam animam gerens.” 39 Ambrose, Off. 1.22.98: “Cogitationes uerum exquirere et quasi emolere muneris habent.” 40 Ambrose, Off. 1.24.115: “Quarum primo loco constitverunt prudentiam quae in ueri inuestigatione versatur.” 41 Ambrose, Off. 1.26.122: “Itaque tractant in ueri inuestigatione tenendum illud decorum ut summo studio requiramus quid uerum sit, non falsa pro ueris ducere, non obscuris uera inuoluere, non superfluis uel implexis atque ambiguis occupare animum.” 42 Ambrose, Off. 2.24.123: “. . . his a uero deuius superbit quoniam ueritatis ea est regula ut nihil fuci facias commendandi tui causa quo minor alius fiat, neque si quid boni habeas, id ad deformationem alterius et uituperationem exerceas.”

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Throughout this work, Ambrose condemns falsity, affirms honesty and requires that human relations are carried out with authenticity and integrity.43 The goal is to attain to the perfection of truth which is Christ and the means is by living truly, honestly, and in a kind of friendship.44 Based upon the view of Augustine in book five of the Confessions, I had expected to be able to say something about the role that rhetoric played in Ambrose's preaching, where delight would be seen as a means to truth when truthfully employed. Augustine reaffirms such a result when he said: "I listened to him straightforwardly expounding the word of truth to the people every Sunday . . . ."45 However, it is at least clear that—at least in his De officiis—the truth for Ambrose is Jesus Christ. Further investigation into his search for truth or his commitment to truth will need to pay attention to that central dimension of his faith and thought.

43 Ambrose, Off. 3.10.66: “in every area of our behavior, we must make sure to banish fraud, show honesty, and declare the truth.” (sed etiam generaliter in omnibus dolus abesse debet: aperienda simplicitas, intimanda ueritas est.) 44 Ambrose, Off. 3.10.68: “Because the truth is such a dear friend to them, the think that no one is a liar, and they have no idea what it means to deceive.” (Et quia ipsis amica est ueritas, mentiri neminem putant, fallere quid sit ignorant, libenter credunt quod ipsi sunt nec possunt suspectum habere quod non sunt.) 45 Augustine, Conf. 6.3.4: “Et eum quidem in populo verbum veritatis recte tractantem omni die dominico audiebam . . . .” See also 6.4.6: "The possibility of healing was, ironically, within my reach if only I had been willing to believe, because then I could with a more purified mind have focused my gaze on your truth, which abides for ever and is deficient in nothing.” (Et sanari credendo poteram, ut purgatior acies mentis meae dirigeretur aliquo modo in veritatem tuam semper manentem et ex nullo deficientem.)

CHAPTER ELEVEN BLURRING DISTINCTIONS BETWEEN ARIANS AND PHILOSOPHERS: AMBROSE’S ATTACK ON WORLDLY WISDOM IN THE DE INTERPELLATIONE ANTHONY THOMAS

Introduction “It is pleasing to reflect upon the prayers of both men [Job and David], because in these men the shape of human life is expressed, its court case is pleaded, and its special position is filled out (formatur),”11states Ambrose of Milan regarding his purpose for composing his De interpellatione Iob et David. Recent Ambrosian scholarship has centered on the historical and theological content of Ambrose’s treatises, particularly those on heretics called “Arians.” One of Ambrose’s works that has received little attention, however, is the De interpellatione Iob et David. Probably written between 383 and 394,22the De interpellatione is a series of four sermons, two on the Book of Job (Books I and II), one on Psalm 72 (Book III), and one on Psalms 41 and 42 (Book IV).33Unsurprisingly, given that half of the sermons focus 1 Ambrose, De interpellatione Iob et David 1.1.3, in De patriarchis, De fuga saeculi, De interpellatione Iob et David, ed. and trans. Gabriele Banterle, SAEMO 4 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 1980), 135-263. The English is my own. This article draws on (and partially corresponds to) the research and discussion in chapter four of my dissertation, Ambrose of Milan Combats the "Crooked Interpreters": Forming Nicene Identity through Exegesis." 2 Giuseppe Visonà, ed., Sussidi: Cronologia Ambrosiana/ Bibliographia Ambrosiana (1900-2000), SAEMO 25/26 (Milan: Biblioteca Ambrosiana, 2004), 25:120-21. 3 Michael P. McHugh, ed. and trans., The Prayer of Job and David, in Saint Ambrose: Seven Exegetical Works, vol. 65 of The Fathers of the Church: A New

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on the biblical figure of Job, the overarching themes of these sermons are the difficult questions of evil, suffering, and God’s omniscience vis-à-vis earthly, human wisdom and knowledge. This paper focuses on the manner in which Ambrose attempts to reorient his audience’s perception to be critical of the solely rational and excessively wordy style of argumentation of philosophers. After situating Ambrose philosophically and historically in light of recent scholarship, I will analyze his arguments about wisdom and the human mind in the text of De interpellatione. For, while he accepts many aspects of Stoic philosophy, as Marcia Colish has shown,44Ambrose also argues against certain elements of the Stoic belief in a sage who can attain wisdom and freedom from the passions autarchically, by his own unaided intellectual power.55Ambrose contrasts this Stoic belief in reason-based wisdom with the faith-based wisdom of the Apostles and their successors, the Nicene bishops. Furthermore, I suggest that, when Ambrose criticizes philosophers, he is also attacking the homoian and Eunomian “Arian” heretics,6 6whom he presents in his polemical works as relying on reason and on the crafty use of language to escape recognition of the truth concerning the Trinity.

Translation, (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1972), 327-28. While the original, chronological order of the sermons remains uncertain, I follow Karl Schenkl, Michael McHugh, and Gabriele Banterle in the ordering of the sermons: Book of Job (Books I and II), Psalm 72 (Book III), and Psalms 41 and 42 (Book IV). 4 See Marcia Colish, Ambrose’s Patriarchs: Ethics for the Common Man (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005). 5 The only scholarship I have been able to find on Stoicism in the De interpellatione is a very brief note in Hervé Savon, “Le De interpellatione Iob et David dans la collection ‘Sources Chrétiennes’: problèmes et perspectives,” in Lire et éditer aujourd’hui Ambroise de Milan: actes du colloque de l’Université de Metz, 20-21 mai 2005 (New York: Peter Lang, 2007), 6-7 and 17-18, suggesting that the De interpellatione may have been influenced by Stoicism in its presentation of Job’s heroic suffering. 6 While I am aware that many of Ambrose’s immediate opponents were homoian Arians, if that term has any value to cover the varied theological positions held by those to whom it refers, I will refer generally here to his theological opponents collectively as Arians for simplicity and because it is not clear that Ambrose made a distinction between homoian, Eunomian, and other brands of “Arianism” and likely intended to combat all forms of it, even if those forms of Arianism had little presence in or near Milan.

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Concern with Arianism in De interpellatione At various points throughout the De interpellatione, Ambrose demonstrates his acute concern with Nicene theology and Arianism, theological matters capable of generating waves that threaten to inundate the faithful. Ambrose provides his audience with an impermeable pro-Nicene commentary on biblical texts to combat the threat of Arianism. To do so, he uses the depth of language and critical explanation of words to attack the beliefs of the Arians. Ambrose demonstrates his concern with Nicene theology and Arianism at several points in the De interpellatione. In the first book of the De interpellatione, Ambrose cites the Prologue to John’s Gospel, one of the key texts in pro-Nicene theology: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God,”77which shows that the Word always existed. This quotation, moreover, is introduced by mentioning that John had wisdom because of his reliance on Christ instead of on himself, a theme that is key to Ambrose’s pro-Nicene argument in the De interpellatione: “He Himself revealed (Himself) to John, with whom was Wisdom, and therefore that one spoke not what was his own, but what Wisdom poured into him.”88 Ambrose even more explicitly defends a Nicene understanding of Christ and of John’s Prologue when he discusses Psalm 60:6: “I will rejoice and I will divide Sichem.”99He begins by saying, “The division is owed to the Lord alone, which is grasped by the Word, that is by that spiritual sword of the true Solomon.”1010He then proceeds to make it clear that when he says “the Lord alone,” he is not trying to separate the Father from the Son: What is “to him alone”? To the Father without Christ or to Christ without the Father? Absolutely not. When I say that the Father is alone, I do not separate the Son, because the Son is in the bosom and hiding place of the Father . . . . Indeed, John says it very plainly, “In the beginning was the Word,” but he was not without the Father. And the Father was (existed), but was not (did not exist) without the Word. And the Father was God, but not without the Word, because “the Word was with God.1111

7

Ambrose, Interp. 1.9.31. Ambrose, Interp. 1.9.31: ipse ergo reuelauit Iohanni, cum quo esset sapientia, et ideo dixit ille non quod suum erat, sed quod sapientia infudit ei. 9 Ambrose, Interp. 4.4.15. 10 Ambrose, Interp. 4.4.15. 11 Ambrose, Interp. 4.4.15. 8

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The Prologue to John’s Gospel, then, is for Ambrose a clear proof text of the permanent unity of the Father and the Son, in opposition to the beliefs of the Arians. Ambrose cites Proverbs 8:22, perhaps the key text in the Arian controversy, twice, “The Lord created me as the beginning of his ways,”1212and provides a pro-Nicene interpretation of the passage both times. The first instance occurs at 2.2.6, in the second sermon on Job, when Ambrose is seeking to provide a reason for Job’s laughter when his friends accuse him of sinning. He contrasts the action of two Old Testament figures, David, who was silent when cursed, and Job, who laughed, with Paul, a New Testament figure, who blesses when cursed (citing 1 Cor 4:12, “We are cursed and we bless”), providing an explanation for this difference in Christ’s coming: Because of divine teaching (magisterio quippe diuino) the progress of human virtue increased (processus humanae uirtutis excreuit), because the One who would make stronger ones from weak ones had now come and he had heard him saying, "Bless those who curse you and pray for those who injure you.” He said this in word and proved it by His example (quod uerbo dixit et exemplo probauit). Indeed, when on the cross, He said concerning his persecutors, who were reviling Him, “Father, forgive them, because they do not know what they are doing,” in order that he might pray for those reviling Him, whom He Himself was able to forgive.1313

Ambrose’s emphasis on Christ’s power to forgive sins is in opposition to the interpretation of the Arians, who took passages like this one as indicative of Christ’s inferiority with respect to the Father, in such a way as to indicate that Christ is equal to the Father.1414Ambrose explains that Christ speaks in this manner in order that he might serve as an example for humans to follow, since humans cannot on their own forgive sins. Indeed, Christ’s prayer to the Father on the cross does more than merely provide a pattern for others to follow; it provides an example that makes possible similar actions by others.1515It can only do this precisely because Christ is himself God and 12

Ambrose, Interp. 2.2.6. Ambrose, Interp. 2.2.6. Italics are used here as a translation of quippe. 14 See Athanasius, Four Discourses against the Arians, trans. John Henry Newman and Archibald Robertson, vol. 4 of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1892) 3.26. 15 Margaret Elizabeth Mohrmann notes, citing Exp. ps. 118 20.57, “In Ambrose's thoroughly Nicaean Christology, such spiritual formation is mediated through the co-eternal Christ even in those who lived before the incarnation. But now, because 13

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thus the source of the virtues, without whose saving example even the just men of the Old Testament cannot forgive sins: “Job therefore laughed, because Christ had not yet come, for whom alone was preserved the right to be first (praerogativa, or “sure sign”16 ) in the virtues (uirtutum), because He Himself is the beginning of the virtues (uirtutum principium), just as He said, ‘The Lord created me as the beginning of His ways.’”17 Ambrose thus shifts the attention away from the word “created” in the passage to the idea, more amenable to Nicene theology, that Christ is the “beginning,” or source, of all things, and especially of the virtues. Ambrose thus demonstrates that Christ is indispensable for progress in virtue and is the foundation of the Christian life.1818 Ambrose utilizes language in a similar manner to a similar end in his second citation of Proverbs 8:22. At 4.7.26, Ambrose discusses Psalm 42:10-12: 16

17

The second prayer (interpellatio) is that the awaited arrival of Christ for the prudent ones of Christ was put off (exspectatus prudentibus Christi differebatur aduentus), which (arrival) the law had announced, which the prophets promised, and thus the hearts of the just were burning, because they knew that one was going to come for the redemption of all, of the whole [world] (uniuersorum), to whom he would open the way of virtue (uiam uirtutis) by the Gospel path (euangelico tramite) and would show the paths of good works (bonorumque operum semitas demonstraret), just as He Himself said in Proverbs, “The Lord created me as the beginning of His ways.” Therefore it was said to him, “Where is your god?” because Christ had not yet come, but was hoped for.1919

Ambrose once more emphasizes the need for Christ’s example to make it possible to do good works and provides Christ’s divinity as the reason for his ability to effect moral progress in others and their salvation. the incarnation has occurred, we can also be shaped by Christ, not only through the mediation of the exemplary patriarchs but through the life of the imago dei himself, as Ambrose explains in a passage that includes a summary of his Nicaean theology.” “Wisdom and the Moral Life: The Teachings of Ambrose of Milan” (PhD diss., University of Virginia, 1995), 191. 16 Charlton T. Lewis & Charles Short, eds., A Latin Dictionary (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1879), s.v. “praerogativus.” 17 Ambrose, Interp. 2.2.6. 18 Lewis Ayres notes that such an emphasis on Christ as the foundation of the Christian life is a characteristic of the pro-Nicene vision of reality. Nicaea and Its Legacy: An Approach to Fourth-Century Trinitarian Theology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 304-12. 19 Ambrose, Interp. 4.7.26.

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In the section immediately preceding this one, 4.6, Ambrose emphasizes the unity of the Father and Son in their substantia. When discussing the passage where Christ commends his spirit to the Father at the crucifixion, Ambrose argues against an addition to the biblical text that appears to have been made by the cantors in church: Let not some, then, add, “Lord,” as the cantors (psaltae) do, because I have found it neither in my Latin text nor in the Greek nor in the Gospel, which is even more clear. Indeed, previously he had said, “Father, forgive them this sin,” and therefore he says to the Father that he, as it were, commends his spirit into his hands, in whose bosom the Son always is (et ideo tamquam patri in manus eius commendare se spiritum suum, in cuius sinu semper est filius). Nevertheless, even if they add that he said “Lord,” let them reflect that he says this like a man exposed to death (quamquam, etsi addant quod dixerit domine, considerent quod quasi homo in morte positus hoc loquatur).2020

Ambrose is clearly concerned that the addition of this word would make it appear that there was a difference in status between the Father and the Son. Aside from denying that it is part of the biblical text, he utilizes a frequent Nicene argument claiming that any passage seeming to indicate inferiority in Christ is said with respect to his humanity.2121He chooses to emphasize by contrast the unity of the Father and Son, citing the assertion of John 1:18 that the Son’s place is in the Father’s bosom. This emphasis on their consubstantial unity is made more explicit in the next paragraph where Ambrose, continuing to discuss Psalm 22:1122 , wants to make it clear that Christ never left the Father when he went forth from his mother’s womb: 22

The Father indeed, did not cast out the Son, from whom the Son never went forth, just as He Himself says (non proiecit utique filium pater, a quo numquam egressus est filius), “I have been handed over and I did not go forth.” He did not cast Him out, to whom he is joined by the unity of the same substance (non proiecit eum, cui eiusdem substantiae unitate conectitur).2323

20

Ambrose, Interp. 4.6.24, Banterle, SAEMO 4: 247, notes Ambrose’s concern with this passage. 21 For this argument in Athanasius, see R. P. C. Hanson, The Search for the Christian Doctrine of God: The Arian Controversy, 318-381 (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1988), 448. 22 “I have been cast out into you from the womb, from my mother’s belly,” Ambrose, Interp. 4.6.23. 23 Ambrose, Interp. 4.6.25.

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Ambrose argues against those who would take the passage as indicating a separation between the Father and the Son by asserting their unity in substantia. Thus, Ambrose provides a pro-Nicene commentary in the De interpellatione, in opposition to Arian attempts to stress Christ’s weakness.

Philosophizing Arians? For Ambrose and Christians living in the fourth century, the boundaries between “heretic,” “pagan philosopher,” and “Jew” are not as clearly distinct as they are in the modern mind. Ambrose utilizes a linguistic blurring of categories in the De interpellatione to assert the guilt by association with pagan philosophers, Jews, and the Arians. One method Ambrose often uses to attack the Arian doctrine is connecting it with pagan philosophy. Goulven Madec notes that in the anti-Arian treatises, like the De Fide and the De incarnationis dominicae sacramento, Ambrose contrasts the Nicene faith, based on the Sacred Scriptures, with the “argumentations artificieuses des hérétiques.” Madec says further, “C’est à la lumière de ce principe doctrinal qu’il convient de lire les passages où l’on relevé les traits les plus vifs qu’Ambroise ait décoché à la philosophie et plus précisément à la dialectique.”2424Ambrose thus contrasts the simplicity of the Nicene faith with the complicated arguments of his Arian adversaries.2525For Ambrose the truth is a matter of faith, not philosophy. At the beginning of the De Fide, Ambrose, citing 1 Cor 1:20, explicitly contrasts the prophets with the (Stoic) sages.2626Madec notes the connection made by Ambrose in the De Fide between philosophy and paganism, where Ambrose says, “What difference is there between pagans and Arians?”2727For Ambrose, whose belief is a type of “dualisme doctrinal,” all types of differing belief, whether philosophical, Jewish, or heretical, are just different forms of false belief.2828This contrast between the Nicene faith and (Arian) philosophy appears frequently in Ambrose’s anti-Arian treatises.29 Mohrmann, following Madec, notes, “Merely human wisdom receives a variety of labels in Ambrose’s writings: wisdom of the world, wisdom of the flesh, philosophy, heresy, Judaism. Although he does at times differentiate . . . the most important identifying characteristic of each one is 29

24

Goulven Madec, Saint Ambroise et la philosophie (Paris: Études augustiniennes, 1974), 46 25 Madec, Saint Ambroise, 52. 26 Madec, Saint Ambroise, 46. 27 Madec, Saint Ambroise, 50, citing De Fide 1.13.84. 28 Madec, Saint Ambroise, 236. 29 Madec, Saint Ambroise, 48-49.

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what they hold in common.”30 In the Expositio Psalmi 118, Ambrose claims that the Arians left “the Apostle” for philosophy and the wisdom that comes from God for dialectic. In the Expositio Psalmi 118, Ambrose uses the Apostles to stand for the true faith against the philosophically-influenced heresy of the Arians. He consistently uses this same opposition in the De interpellatione: the simple truth and its embodiment in Christ and the Apostles versus the Arians and the wordy pagan philosophers. In addition to addressing his attacks on dialectic to the Homoians, the adherents of the type of Arianism most common in Northern Italy, it seems likely that Ambrose also had in mind a particularly philosophical form of Arianism that was more dominant in the eastern half of the empire, Eunomianism or anomoianism.31 Anomoianism, so called because it tended to present the Father and Son as anomoios or “unlike,” places emphasis on the logical impossibility of an “unbegotten” Father and a “begotten” Son sharing the same nature or even being similar. At the foundation of this emphasis on the names “unbegotten” and “begotten” is the theory, ultimately derived from Plato’s Cratylus, that rather than names arising at random, names are expressive of essences and thus things with distinct and contradictory names cannot have the same essences.3232Beyond even this use of philosophy, however, as Hanson notes, Eunomius “had indeed an unbounded faith in the power of Greek philosophy to explain all questions about God. Both Basil and Gregory complain about his tendency to immerse the argument in philosophical terms.”33 For Ambrose (and other proNicenes), there is an undeniable link between the Arian and the philosopher. 30

31

33

Ambrose and the Stoic Sage The Stoics believed that it was possible for a person, though only rarely, to reach perfect understanding in such a manner and to such an extent that he 30

Mohrmann, “Wisdom,” 92. See Hanson, The Search, 617-36, for a treatment of Eunomius’s theology. Ambrose emphasizes the philosophical character of Eunomianism in De incarnationis dominicae sacramento 2.7, SAEMO , where he describes Eunomius as “asserting that the generation of Christ, which is above all things, has to be deduced from the traditions of philosophy, even though there is one reason [governing] creatures, another power [connected with] divine secrets.” (. . . generationem Christi quae super omnia est, adserens ex philosophiae traditionibus colligendam, cum utique alia creaturarum sit ratio, alia secretorum potential diuinorum.) All translations from the De incarnationis are mine. 32 Hanson, The Search, 630. 33 Hanson, The Search, 630. 31

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(or she) would never cease to have perfect wisdom or understanding. Such a person would be called ੒ ıȠijȩȢ, sapiens, the “sage” or, literally, the “wise man.” The sapiens would have perfect sapientia, wisdom, which, for Stoics, is “knowledge of things divine and things human” (divinorum et humanorum scientia).34 34 Cicero, in the Academica, describes the Stoic image of the sage’s perfect understanding: (1) Zeno used to clinch the wise man’s sole possession of scientific knowledge with a gesture. (2) He would spread out the fingers of one hand and display its open palm, saying, “An impression is like this.” (3) Next, he clenched his fingers a little and said, “Assent is like this.” (4) Then, pressing his fingers quite together, he made a fist, and said that this was cognition (and from this illustration he gave that mental state the name of katalƝpsis, which it had not had before). (5) Then he brought his left hand against his right fist and gripped it tightly and forcefully, and said that scientific knowledge was like this and possessed by none except the wise man.3535

Thus, not only does the sage have a greater knowledge than normal men, but his knowledge is complete and involves so strong a grasp of reality that he differs significantly from other men. Related to the Stoic belief that the sapiens will have complete understanding of things human and divine is the Stoic belief that the sapiens will not be able to be disturbed by passions, ʌȐșȘ or passiones.3636While the Stoic sage may still have good, rational emotions, he will not have passions, which are irrational emotions. These irrational emotions involve false beliefs about the nature of things and accordingly the sage, since he does not have false beliefs, will not have passions.3737He will, moreover, not be disturbed even if he is experiencing the greatest suffering because he will be secure in his knowledge that nothing aside from virtue and vice is either good or evil, but merely “indifferent.” It is this image of the Stoic sage as wise and free from passions on his own strength (as opposed to by God’s grace) with which Ambrose is in dialogue in the De interpellatione. 34

G. B. Kerferd,“What Does the Wise Man Know?,” in The Stoics, ed. John M. Rist (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1978): 130. 35 Cicero, Academica 2.145, in The Hellenistic Philosophers, ed. and trans. A. A. Long and D. N. Sedley, vol. 1. Translations of the Principal Sources with Philosophical Commentary (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 25354. 36 Michael Frede, “The Stoic doctrine of the affections of the soul,” in The Norms of Nature: Studies in Hellenistic ethics, ed. Malcolm Schofield and Gisela Striker (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986): 93. 37 Frede, “The Stoic doctrine,” 94.

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In Ambrose’s Patriarchs, Marcia Colish aims to correct the commonly held perception that the ethics upon which Ambrose’s anthropology is based is a Platonic dualism by showing the presence of Aristotelian and Stoic influence in the patriarch treatises, combined with a biblical anthropology.3838 Ambrose claims, with the Stoics, that the sage possesses the four cardinal virtues, and, with the Aristotelians, that justice is the head of the four virtues. Against the Stoics, and with the Aristotelians, he claims that lesser goods do exist. Essential to Ambrose’s ethics is the idea that the mark of a sage is not a Platonic, ascetic rejection of the passions, but rather a moderation of the passions by reason. In Ambrose’s view, this moderation of the passions is possible not because of Stoic autarchy, or self-sufficiency, but rather because the Christian sage relies on the grace of God.3939This rejection of Stoic autarchy appears again in the De interpellatione. It should be noted that, by the late fourth century, Stoic ideas and terminology did not necessarily identify a person specifically with a particular philosophical school, but were rather elements of a common intellectual vocabulary, much of which Neoplatonism had adopted from Stoicism. In using Stoic terms, then, Ambrose is not necessarily accusing the Arians of being Stoics, but connecting them with a broader philosophical mindset.

Philosophers in the De interpellatione In an attempt to counteract the perceived philosophizing of Arians, Ambrose in the De interpellatione presents Christian adaptations of Stoic concepts in such a way as to emphasize the importance of reliance on God rather than on human ability. Similarly, he criticizes philosophers for their vain pride in their own abilities. Ambrose gives what appears to be a revised version of the Stoic image of clenched hands representing katalepsis in the De interpellatione. Ambrose discusses Psalm 73:23-4: “You have held my right hand and led me away in your will and you have taken me up with your glory.” “He is directed well,” Ambrose says, “whose right hand God holds in his hand. He

38

For the following, see Colish, Ambrose’s Patriarchs. It should be noted that, according to Madec, Saint Ambroise, 141, most of Ambrose’s knowledge of Stoicism appears to come from Cicero. 39 Colish here builds on the distinction that Michel Spanneut makes between Christian and Stoic patience, namely that Stoic endurance is egocentric while the Christian version is communal and relies on divine assistance to make up for human weakness. “Le Stoïcisme dans L’Histoire de la Patience Chrétienne,” Mélanges de science religieuse 39 (1982): 108-9.

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can say, ‘The Lord is at my right lest I should be moved.’”4040 Ambrose transforms the Stoic image of hands being held from one that represents the wise man’s sure grasp of truth to one representing God’s guidance of the wise man to truth. He argues with this image that certain knowledge comes not from one’s own thorough grasp of a matter (his own hands grasping each other) but rather from God granting him wisdom (God holding his hand). Wisdom imparted by God is so sure that it could have prevented even the fall of Adam: “Adam, if he had been willing to have the Lord at his right, would not have been deceived by the serpent. But because he forgot the command of God and fulfilled the will of the serpent, the devil held his hand and made it extend to the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, so that he would pluck off what had been forbidden.”4141Ambrose explains that the right hand represents “the power of the soul in action” and that “if it should be directed by the will of the Lord, it desires nothing else, seeks nothing, requests no riches of this (world), no aids.”4242Wisdom coming from God, then, grants the recipient true autarchy, freedom from any need for worldly help. Ambrose indicates that Peter has such autarchy when he connects this image of holding hands to when Jesus, reaching out his hand to save Peter on the water, “did not allow suffer him to totter (titubare non passus est) and steadied him in his daring step (atque intrepido firmauit incessu).”4343 Ambrose, then, offers his own revision of Stoic katalepsis in which sure knowledge comes only from God and connects this image of sure knowledge to Peter, who is representative of Nicene theology in Ambrose’s thought. Ambrose even presents his own revision of the classic image of the sage as happy upon the rack (due to his complete self-control and knowledge that pain is not truly an evil) in such a way as to indicate the need for reliance on God.4444He begins by saying that knowledge of God’s goodness comes not because a person has succeeded in everything, but rather because he has confidence in the goodness in store for him “out of the depth of the heavenly mysteries and the height of God’s plan.”45 Ambrose then gives two reasons for a person to be happy when suffering: either he knows that the suffering will atone for his sins or he knows that he is winning a reward in 45

40

Ambrose, Interp. 3.10.27. Ambrose, Interp. 3.10.27. 42 Ambrose, Interp. 3.10.27. 43 Ambrose, Interp. 3.10.27. 44 For this idea, see, for instance, Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 5.26.73, “Even in torture and upon the rack? (Etiamne in cruciatu atque tormentis?),” LCL 141 (ed. and trans. J. E. King, 1945). 45 Ambrose, Interp. 3.2.3. 41

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heaven.4646Ambrose continues by discussing explicitly how the just man will be happy even on the rack: Therefore, the just man, even if he should be on the rack (eculeo), is always just, because he justifies God and says that he undergoes things less than his sins. He is always wise, for the true and perfect wisdom (uera et perfecta sapientia) is not taken away by the torments of the rack (eculei tormentis); he does not lose what he is (quod est), because he shuts fear outside with the desire and decision of charity (studio et proposito caritatis). He knows like the sapiens to say that the things we undergo in this body are unworthy of the reward of the glory to come, and all the sufferings (passiones) of this time cannot equal the wages to come.4747

Ambrose thus takes the proverbial image of the Stoic sage as happy on the rack and revises it to accord with the idea that power comes from God’s grace, not from the human will, and with an awareness of human sinfulness. True wisdom becomes belief in God, rather than trust in the perfectibility of human nature. It is such (right) belief that is capable of allowing one to undergo the greatest torments. Ambrose finishes the sermons of the De interpellatione focused on Job, with a rebuke of the pride and folly of philosophers in attempting to seek wisdom by their own strength, unassisted by divine revelation. He begins by saying of the path to happiness, “(The way is) difficult to discover, impassable to the proud, shut off to the boastful, level to the rather humble, open to the wise.”48 48 Here, he contrasts the prideful with those who are humble and wise and in so doing, he links wisdom with humility and implies that true wisdom is found in being humble. He then proceeds to exhort his readers to wisdom: “And therefore we should seek wisdom that we might walk in the just way.”4949This would seem to potentially favor philosophers, but he proceeds to link philosophers with pride in one’s own abilities, saying, “But let him who wants to discover wisdom, not seek it in the abyss like the philosophers, who think that they, on their own, by their own inborn ability can recognize its depths.”5050As Colish shows, while Ambrose adopts some Stoic ideas about the sage, his sage is “a sage . . . whose selfsufficiency never translates into Stoic autarchy, since his natural virtues are united with grace.”5151The Stoic idea of autarchy is presented by Anthony 46

Ambrose, Interp. 3.2.3. Ambrose, Interp. 3.2.3. 48 Ambrose, Interp. 2.5.23. 49 Ambrose, Interp. 2.5.23. 50 Ambrose, Interp. 2.5.23. 51 Colish, Ambrose’s Patriarchs, 97. 47

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Long and David Sedley thus: “The Stoics claim that a virtuous man does possess all that he needs to fulfill himself, to live well, to have his desires satisfied.”5252Autarchy, then, is the sage’s perfect self-sufficiency, the fact that he does not need anything or anyone’s help to accomplish his own happiness since he can himself attain virtue without external assistance. Ambrose’s sage is never fully self-reliant, but must rely on Christ, for, as Colish notes, “He is one of the Lord’s elect, never lacking in God’s assistance; and he strengthens and consoles himself with the hope of resurrection and eternal life.”53 Ambrose presents philosophy as attempting to understand nature by pure dialectic, not relying on the revealed wisdom or the supernatural grace of God to attain understanding and the moral strength that comes from understanding.5454 Ambrose proceeds to direct his readers to seek true wisdom and happiness, “not . . . in the sea—for where there is storm (tempestas), where there is windstorm (procella uenti), not there can wisdom be—but there let him seek where there is tranquility of mind and peace, which is above all understanding.”5555Rather than seeking tranquility in the wisdom of material things, Ambrose’s readers are exhorted to seek wisdom by relying on God by means of an allusion to Philippians 4:7, which presents Christ as the source of peace that is beyond understanding. This passage, moreover, uses two related natural images, the abyss and the sea, to point to the greatness of God’s wisdom and power in contrast to created things. Ambrose emphasizes the immensity of the abyss by referring to its depth and connecting it to the philosophers’ (failed) attempts to understand it. He similarly emphasizes the power of the sea by mentioning the “storm” and “windstorm.” Ambrose ties humility with the true sage’s wisdom, when he discusses a passage from Job 10:15, “If I am just, I cannot raise myself up, for I am full of shame.”5656Ambrose explains this passage thus, “For the just (iustus) man takes more note of his weakness…the wise man (sapiens) recognizes, the fool (insipiens) does not recognize. Indeed, the wise man (sapiens) feels 53

52

Long and Sedley, The Hellenistic Philosophers, 1:399. Colish, Ambrose’s Patriarchs, 97-8. 54 Mohrmann, “Wisdom,” 85, notes something similar: “Philosophy is useless and even dangerous because it has forgotten its origin in the stories and revelations of scripture and has consequently directed itself towards false ends. In just the same sense, reason cannot be the dominant faculty it is meant to be unless it fully acknowledges its creating source and focuses solely on its proper destiny, the bosom of God.” 55 Ambrose, Interp. 2.5.23. 56 Ambrose, Interp. 1.6.20. 53

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remorse at his falls, the fool (insipiens) is delighted.”57 57 Ambrose, then, connects the word iustus with the sapiens, the sage, and claims that the true sapiens is wise not because he is faultless but because, though he has faults, he recognizes that fact and is repentant. Thus, Ambrose corrects the image of the Stoic sapiens by showing that the sapiens is not someone so free from faults that he can never be moved by his passions, but rather someone who, though he certainly has faults, repents of them, relying on God’s grace. Indeed, against the desire of men like the Stoics to claim that they are free from passions, in spite of great evidence to the contrary,58 Ambrose proceeds to quote Proverbs 18:17, saying, “‘The just man is his own accuser,’ the unjust man is his own advocate. The just man wants to outstrip his accuser in the confession of his sin. The unjust man desires to hide his sin. He (the wise man) hurries up at the beginning of the speech to reveal the error. That man puts to rest the accusation with much speech so as not to reveal his error.”59 Ambrose is characterizing the loquacity of philosophers, their dialectic, in such a way as to prove that rather than being wise, they are fools grasping at straws to try to prove their own sinlessness. A little further on, while commenting on Job 14:1-5, which says, among other things, “Who is clean from filth? No one, even if his life upon earth is one day.” Ambrose further stresses the sin-filled character of human existence: 58

59

He is forced to present an account of his sin, which he cannot avoid (peccati sui, quod uitare non possit, rationem praestare cogatur). He is compelled to come into the sight of the all-powerful Lord, to set forth the reasons for his deeds (iudicium intrare, in conspectum subire domini omnipotentis conpellitur, edere causas gestorum suorum), which he has run through in so many ages of his life, although no one at all could be clean from sin (quae tot uitae suae aetatibus percurrerit, cum mundus a peccato quiuis esse non possit).6060

As a consequence of human sinfulness, it is more wise for a man to recognize his sins, than for him to claim that it is possible for him to be free from sin. In a similar way, it is wiser for heretics like Palladius and Auxentius of Durostorum to recognize their erroneous theology, rather than hiding behind verbal subtleties, as Ambrose and others at the Council of 57

Ambrose, Interp. 1.6.20. One thinks of the story from Aulus Gellius’ Noctes Atticae mentioned by Augustine in City of God 9.4 of the philosopher who was on a storm-tossed boat growing pale and, when teased later for giving in to passions, claimed that the paleness arose not from a proper passion, but from a pre-passion. 59 Ambrose, Interp. 1.6.20. 60 Ambrose, Interp. 1.7.22. 58

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Aquileia accused Arians of doing in their attempts to avoid confessing that Christ was deum uerum.

Loquacious Heretics and Rational Argument about God Nicene theologians often level against their Eunomian opponents the charge, frequently aimed against philosophers from the beginnings of ancient literature, of sophistic reliance on words rather than realities. A similar accusation was made repeatedly against the Arians present at the Council of Aquileia, centered around the Arians’ refusal to refer to the Son as deum uerum (true God): In Ambrose’s mind, there was “deceit” (fraus) in these assertions . . . . The fact that Palladius would not commit himself to confessing “filium deum verum” was just another instance of deceit in the history of the Arians. Among the ultra-conservatives at Aquileia, there was now no longer any room for theological ambiguity. One notes throughout the conciliar proceedings how Palladius is repeatedly asked to speak “clearly” or “without cunning” (Gesta 12), or that he has “vacillated” (refugio) or “quibbled” (cavillor) in his answers (Gesta 47).6161

Ambrose is criticizing a similar desire to hide one’s fault by means of verbal gymnastics in the passage discussed above. Elsewhere in the De interpellatione, he aims his sights on the philosophizing Arians’ attempts at hiding their errors by means of loquacious speech. Ambrose explicitly contrasts the heretics’ use of empty words with their failure to attain true knowledge when he discusses Job 21: 11-13: “They remain like perpetual sheep. Their children play, receiving the psalter and the cithara, and delight in the sound of a psalm. They have consumed their life in good things, they have slept in the rest of the underworld.”6262Ambrose, after discussing how Satan only appears to be an angel of light, compares a heretic’s appearance of truth to Satan’s: “Reflect on some heretic focused on bodily abstinence and the knowledge of heavenly mysteries. He is thought of as one eternal, he does not have the wages of eternal life, because he who does not have the truth of the faith has a false imitation.”6363He then proceeds to compare the heretics’ use of empty 61

Williams, Ambrose of Milan, 179. Ambrose, Interp. 2.4.16. 63 Ambrose, Interp. 2.4.16. While Holmes Dudden, Saint Ambrose: His Life and Times, 2 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1935), 2:576, suggests that this passage 62

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words (dialectic and rhetoric) to a woman playing on the cithara: “She has reveled in the psalter and the cithara, that is, in the sound of her voice, not in the depth of mysteries, so that it resounds on the lips, but does not bring them to the heart.”6464Arians are thus presented as female slaves used for musical entertainment. Rather than being made powerful by their speech, Arians become weak. Ambrose indicates that Christ, the Word, is the best defense against the seduction presented by loquacious Arians: “We understand the waterfalls to be the depths of words and force of heavenly speech. . . . Therefore the remedy of all weariness and the one refuge in temptations is Christ and the divine Scriptures.”65 Christ, then, whose divinity the Arians deny, provides powerful “heavenly speech” against the empty cithara playing of the Arians. Since he has discounted verbal argument as a means of obtaining access to the truth concerning God, Ambrose provides an alternative means of access to the truth: through the Apostles and their successors, the bishops. Ambrose alludes to Paul’s rapture in such a way as to indicate the impossibility of speaking properly about God: “Paul heard some secrets of wisdom, which he was forbidden to share with others, and so he was caught up into paradise, caught up all the way to the third heaven, to hear things that one on earth could not hear.”6666 A little further on, Ambrose drives home his point: “It is not permitted you to look too curiously into what is done on earth, and you ask too curiously what is done above heaven? Why do you argue (disputas) about Wisdom’s origin? Man does not know His way, nor has perfect wisdom been found among men.”6767The use of disputas seems like a clear jab at the dialectic of philosophers and heretics, who are presented as spending their time arguing about divine matters, rather than relying on divine revelation to grant wisdom to them, as it was granted to Paul. The mention of Paul, moreover, serves to indicate the manner in which those who do not have direct divine revelations ought to seek to attain wisdom. They should seek wisdom in the teaching of the Apostles, who have had the truth revealed to them, and in the successors of the Apostles, namely bishops like Ambrose. 65

refers to the Priscillianists, he gives no clear reason for this identification, and I see no reason why it cannot refer to heretics generally and even Arians in particular. 64 Ambrose, Interp. 2.4.16. 65 Ambrose, Interp. 4.4.18. 66 Ambrose, Interp. 1.9.29. 67 Ambrose, Interp. 1.9.29.

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The Metaphor of the Sea and the Unfathomable Depths of the Mind of God Ambrose takes advantage of the persuasive power of imagery to move his audience to reliance on God and belief in the Trinity, rather than on human strength and loquacious theological speculation. He does this by presenting them with images of the unfathomable worldly sea and presenting God as infinitely more unfathomable and more powerful. Ambrose connects the human inability to achieve perfect sinlessness with the dangerous power of the sea when he discusses Job 13:26, “Why have you written evil things against me and placed before me the sins of my youth?”68 He presents the metaphor of the storm at sea: “In so great, therefore, and so choppy and windy a storm of this word, why are such frequent shipwrecks ascribed to the improvident ages (in tanto igitur et tam confragoso et procelloso mundi istius turbine, cur tam crebra naufragia inprouidae adscribuntur aetati)?”6969Ambrose not only uses the mention of the power of a storm to stress the danger to one’s soul in this world but also evokes the common metaphor of the tumultuous sea as the world. This metaphor of the sea as the world is shown even more clearly when Ambrose discusses Job 28:14, “The abyss said, ‘It is not in me,’ and the sea said, ‘It is not with me.’”7070Ambrose introduces this passage by saying that the wise man does not quarrel with God’s judgments because “he knows 68

68

Ambrose, Interp. 1.7.21. Ambrose, Interp. 1.7.21. The image of the shipwreck appears often in Stoic writings. See, for instance, Seneca’s Epistle 74.4: “You will recall men who have suffered shipwreck, or whose sufferings resemble shipwreck; for they were untroubled and at ease, when the anger or perhaps the envy of the populace . . . dismantled them like a storm which is wont to rise when one is most confident of continued calm, or like a sudden stroke of lightning which even causes the region round about it to tremble. For just as anyone who stands near the bolt is stunned and resembles one who is struck, so in these sudden and violent mishaps, although but one person is overwhelmed by the disaster, the rest are overwhelmed by fear, and the possibility that they may suffer makes them as downcast as the actual sufferer.” LCL 76 (ed. and trans. R. M. Gummere, 1920). For the frequency of this image of life in Ambrose’s writings, see Craig Satterlee, Ambrose of Milan’s Method of Mystagogical Preaching (Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical Press, 2002), 267. By this logic, death becomes a harbor, as J. Warren Smith, Christian Grace and Pagan Virtue: The Theological Foundation of Ambrose’s Ethics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 147-48, notes, “. . . Ambrose speaks of death as a ‘harbor’— not the end of the journey but only a point of shelter en route—and of heaven or the resurrection as our ‘home’ or ‘homeland.’” 70 Ambrose, Interp. 1.9.29. 69

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that the depth (altitudinem) of the wisdom and knowledge of God is deep (profundam) and that His judgments are inscrutable and His paths are not to be discovered.”7171With words like profundam and altitudinem that allude to the immensity of the sea, then, Ambrose emphasizes the distance between human and divine wisdom. This language of depth is further connected to wisdom when, after citing Job 28:14, Ambrose says, quoting Romans 11:20, “It is not permitted to you to know, oh man, the depths (alta) of wisdom. Therefore it is written for you, ‘Do not be wise deeply (altum), but fear.’”72 72 Ambrose then proceeds with a rebuke of those who, like the philosophers and like the Arians, seek to know more than they should: “Why do you desire to search eagerly into what it does not benefit you to know, nor is it given (to you) to find out?”7373

Peter, Paul, and the Power of Faith over Reason Ambrose further aims at graphically presenting the power that can come to a human being by humble reliance on God, by presenting Peter and Paul’s reliance on God, and especially by connecting Peter’s reliance on God with the image of the troubled sea of this world discussed in the previous section. Peter and Paul receive a great deal of praise throughout the De interpellatione. Ambrose uses them as examples of men who humbly accept their sufferings. About Paul he says, “What is more sublime than Paul, who underwent so many perils, endured so much suffering and weakness (quid sublimius Paulo, qui tantum periculorum subiit, tantum doloris atque infirmitatum absorbuit?) . . . and thought that he suffered nothing unworthy in this time for the hope and longing for such great glory (et nihil indignum perpeti se in hoc tempore pro tantae gloriae spe atque expectatione censebat).”7474Similarly, a little further on, he says of Peter, “What shall I say about Peter, who, since he judged his cross unworthy of the coming repayment, demanded to be hung upside down to add something to his suffering, the punishments of which he did not fear to heap upon himself? (nam de Petro quid loquar, qui crucem suam futura remuneration indignam arbitrates inuerso suspendi poposcit uestigio, ut aliquid passioni suae

71

Ambrose, Interp. 1.9.28. Ambrose, Interp. 1.9.29. Morhmann, “Wisdom,” 89, notes about this passage, “Not only is the good that characterizes God beyond every human mind and understanding (De Isaac 79, De fuga 36), but also it is neither permissible nor possible for human beings to penetrate the secrets of God’s cosmos.” 73 Ambrose, Interp. 1.9.29. 74 Ambrose, Interp. 1.1.2. 72

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adderet, cuius aceruare ipse sibi supplicia nec timeret?).”7575Paul receives special praise for his diligent leadership near the beginning of Book 3: “Here he guards his produce so that there he might store them up without concern (hic custodit fructus suos, ut illic secures recondat). Therefore, God is always good to him, because he always hopes for the things that are good from God (semper itaque ei bonus est deus, quia semper quae bona sunt de deo sperat).”7676The contrast between the Apostles as defenders of the true faith and those with false beliefs appears in a passage near the beginning of Book 4, where Ambrose discusses Song of Songs 2.9-12: “Rise, come, my nearest, my beautiful one, my dove, because, lo, the winter has passed, the rain has gone away, it has dispersed, flowers are seen on the earth.”7777“Winter is the synagogue, rain is the people of the Jews, who could not see the Sun, the flowers are the Apostles . . . . That harvest is the faith of the church, the voice of the turtle dove is modesty.”7878The fruitful faith of the Apostles is contrasted with the barren winter of the Jews’ disbelief, which is often a means used by Ambrose to hint at the Arians’ unbelief.79 Ambrose thus makes the Apostles the sources of stability against the unbelief of the Jews and heretics.8080 Ambrose drives home his point about the importance of belief over philosophical speculation by once more using the language of depth, saying: 79

It is above you to know, oh man, the depth of wisdom (altitudinem sapientiae), it is enough for you to believe. . . . You cannot know the abyss, you cannot grasp (comprehendere) the abyss, how will you grasp the depth of wisdom (altitudinem sapientiae comprehendes)? The abyss said, “It is not in me,” and can you say that wisdom is in you?8181

75

Ambrose, Interp. 1.1.2. Ambrose, Interp. 3.2.3. 77 Ambrose, Interp. 4.1.3. 78 Ambrose, Interp. 4.1.3. 79 See Maria Doerfler, “Ambrose’s Jews: The Creation of Judaism and Heterodox Christianity in Ambrose of Milan’s Expositio evangelii secundum Lucam,” Church History 80 (2011): 749-72. 80 Ambrose refers to Jews in other places in the De interpellatione. Perhaps the most important such mention comes in 4.7.27: “Christ has set his sign on the forehead of each one; the Antichrist sets his sign there also, that he may recognize his own. But as for him who is a Jew in secret, to him the true believer says, ‘They have set up their ensigns for signs, and I knew them not.’” Here, it seems clear, he is referring not to actual Jews but to Christians, like the Arians, who have “Jewish” beliefs, such as denying the divinity of Christ. 81 Ambrose, Interp. 1.9.29. 76

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Ambrose here uses the contrast between the depth of the abyss, which mortals cannot understand, with the depth of wisdom to emphasize just how far beyond mortals it is to understand wisdom, which is infinitely more immense than the sea. He does this, moreover, by playing on the multiple meanings of comprehendere. While comprehendere very often means simply “to understand,” at its root it means to take hold of an entire thing. Thus, the ridiculousness of attempting to take hold of the immensity of the ever-shifting sea highlights the even greater folly of attempting to grasp the immensity of wisdom as a whole. Ambrose thus uses the language of natural phenomena to emphasize just how utterly beyond even the immensity of these natural phenomena is the enormity of the wisdom. Ambrose continues to discuss this passage from Job in such a way as also to emphasize Peter’s reliance on Christ and his consequent reliability as a source of wisdom. Ambrose says, “Therefore, if the abyss is asked, ‘Where is wisdom?’ it responds, ‘It is not in me,’ because it has risen (resurrexit).”8282Christ is the wisdom that philosophers have sought with dialectic and not found because they needed to rely on revelation. Ambrose then proceeds to emphasize once more the impossibility of finding wisdom in the world and the identification of the world and the sea in Job. “You too, therefore, in this strait of this age, do not seek that perfect Wisdom of God, because the world does not know it.”8383He then proceeds to link the image of the metaphorical sea of this world back to the literal sea through the story of Peter walking on the water: “But if you wish to find it, trample upon the waves of this world, just as Peter trampled, and walk upon the waters of this age.”8484Peter, then, because of his faith in Christ, has the power to find the wisdom that neither philosopher nor heretic can find; Peter’s great power, moreover, is not only explicitly stated, but is presented graphically in the image of Peter walking upon the waves. Ambrose then proceeds to emphasize the source of Peter’s power; Peter’s power comes not from being an autarchic Stoic sage, but rather from Christ granting him the power: “Wisdom will stretch out to you His right hand, just as He stretched it out to Peter, because there was no one whom the wave of this age did not trouble.”8585On his own, Peter is not capable of being untroubled; rather, Peter, though troubled like Abraham and Moses,86 is able to act with power because of his reliance on Christ. 86

82

Ambrose, Interp. 1.9.30 Ambrose, Interp. 1.9.30. 84 Ambrose, Interp. 1.9.30. 85 Ambrose, Interp. 1.9.30. 86 Ambrose, Interp. 1.9.30. 83

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Ambrose then proceeds to make even more explicit the need for men to rely on the wisdom granted to the Apostles, and consequently to Nicene bishops like Ambrose who have received that power. He says, “Therefore, do not seek Wisdom in the sea, because the Lord Jesus did not say that he was going to be with the sea, but with his Apostles, so that they might know Him to some extent.”87 The sea is identified for Ambrose with the world and with the worldly way of seeking wisdom practiced by the philosophers and heretics. The door is definitively shut on them and they are replaced with the Apostles, who attain knowledge of Christ, though interestingly, only “to some extent.” Ambrose seems to indicate, then, that even revelation does not give one knowledge of everything about God. God must always remain to some extent beyond human knowledge and understanding. Ambrose then quotes the Great Commission in Matthew 28:16-20, when Jesus sends his Apostles out and empowers them, when he says, “Lo, I am with you to the completion of the world.”8888It should be noted that it is in this same passage of Matthew that Jesus mentions his own power and grants a share in it when commissioning his apostles. It might also be suggested that when Ambrose proceeds to say, “Blessed are they with whom He is. Would that He were also with us, but the sea is with us,”89 he is actually alluding to the presence of Arian heretics in Christian society, who are keeping Christians from enjoying the strength that comes from reliance upon Christ and Nicene bishops. 87

89

Conclusion In the De interpellatione, Ambrose is using a criticism of the pagan philosophers as a veiled attack on Arianism. He uses the language of height and depth to show the extent to which the mysteries of God and the Trinity are beyond the mind of human beings, who should, accordingly, not seek what is beyond the capability of their mind. They should instead rely on the divinely revealed knowledge of the nature of God presented by the Apostles and their successors, the Nicene bishops, especially the bishop of Rome, the city of the Apostles. Ambrose thus presents his audience with an image of faith and wisdom as found in a community led by Nicene bishops.

87

Ambrose, Interp. 1.9.30. Ambrose, Interp. 1.9.30. 89 Ambrose, Interp. 1.9.30. 88

CHAPTER TWELVE TOWARD A MORE PERFECT UNION: SOCIETAS AND MISERICORDIA IN AMBROSE’S THEOLOGY OF COMMUNITY1 J. WARREN SMITH

In his 1997 Carus Lectures entitled Dependent Rational Animals: Why Human Beings Need Virtue, Alasdair MacIntyre seeks to correct an oversight among social ethicists: a neglect for what he terms “the virtues of acknowledged dependency.” The prevailing goal of virtue theorists in the Western tradition has been to enable students to mature into independent rational agents; that is, individuals capable of making moral judgments for themselves rather than blindly subscribing to the values of their parents or teachers or the larger society. One unfortunate consequence, however, has been the loss of a sense of mutuality—acknowledged mutual dependence by members of a community—such that we imagine the virtuous service of others as altruism—that is, the unidirectional flow of benefits of virtues from the virtuous benefactor to the beneficiary but not the other way around.2 MacIntyre places the blame for this at the feet of Aristotle, who taught that it was unmanly to expect others to help carry the burden of one’s own grief or distress (Nicomachean Ethics 9.11.3-4 1171b1-13)3 and who describes the great-souled man—Aristotle’s paragon of virtue—as being eager to confer benefits but feeling shame at receiving them or even be reminded of them (N.E. 4. 3.24).4 With this lost sense of dependence, we 1

I am grateful to my student, Bruce McCuskey, who challenged me to put MacIntyre and Ambrose into conversation and to Stanley Hauerwas for helping a patrologist understand and appreciate MacIntyre more deeply. 2 Alasdair MacIntyre, Dependent Rational Animals: Why Human Beings Need Virtue (Chicago: Open Court, 1997), 160. 3 MacIntyre, Dependent Rational Animals, 7. 4 Ibid, 108.

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have replaced the egoism of “self-interested desire” with the egoism of, what he calls, “bland generalized benevolence” in which our only relationship with those we are serving is that they “provide an occasion for the exercise of our benevolence.”5 MacIntyre’s corrective is to establish a social ethic that is genuinely social, a relational ethic that integrates the virtues of independent moral agency and the virtues of acknowledged dependency. One problem, however, is finding a moral vocabulary that will do just that. In this matter the Western philosophical tradition is lacking.6 Neither justice nor generosity is an adequate term since neither is reciprocal: one can be just without being generous and one can be generous without being just.7 Where, then, can we find an understanding of “just generosity” that is truly relational? The closest MacIntyre comes to finding a solution is in Aquinas’ idea of misericordia: where there is mutual distress for the suffering of others, compassion raises up my neighbor’s distress and thereby simultaneously frees me from my own distress. MacIntyre’s project of integrating the ideal of justice and generosity grounded in a sense of mutuality is an important step, especially for Christians, if we are to get beyond an ethic in which charity is confused with altruism. What is lacking in MacIntyre, however, is a robust theological account of mutuality that can be the source of misericordia, compassion. I will argue that in Ambrose’s adaptation of societas and misericordia from Cicero we find a conception of mutuality that addresses MacIntyre’s concerns but also is grounded in the work of Christ. In De officiis 1.28, Ambrose introduces the idea of societas into his account of justice: “Justice restores the societas of the human race and community. The logic of societas consists of two elements: justice and generosity which is also called liberality or kindness; justice is viewed as the loftier principle while generosity is deemed more pleasant; the former retains careful judgment, the latter goodness” (Off. 1.28.130). 8 Within Ambrose’s corpus, the 5

Ibid., 119. The single word that comes closest, for MacIntyre, of conveying the mutuality of generosity and justice is wancantognaka, a Lakota expression that refers to “the virtue of individuals who recognize responsibilities to immediate family, extended family, and tribe and who express that recognition by their participation in ceremonial acts of uncalculated giving, ceremonies of thanks-giving, of remembrance, and of the conferring of honor” (Ibid., 120). 7 Ibid. 8 Although Ambrose already situated iustitia within a theological hierarchy of goods—justice is an expression of pietas towards God, who is the object of prudentia (Off. 1.27.126-7)—his primary focus here is justice within human social 6

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meaning of societas is twofold. It may refer to an actual group of people— what we would call a “society,” “fellowship,” or even an “alliance”—but it also may refer to a disposition or affection that unites individuals in such a fellowship. This affective sense of societas I have translated here as “bond of fellowship.”9 Ambrose’s concept of societas not only unites justice and generosity but also is the source of compassion that infuses the virtues with a sense of mutuality that stands in contrast to the unilateral munificence of Aristotle’s great-souled man. However, before turning to Ambrose’s account of misericordia, we need to begin with his account of the relationship of societas and iustitia. Societas as a political concept first appears in De officiis during Ambrose’s discussion of the cardinal virtues. Having put forth a pithy definition of the virtues, Ambrose—not surprisingly—reverts to his inductive, exemplarist approach to moral discourse, focusing on “our ancestors,” the patriarchs of Israel, whose lives are a “mirror of moral instruction” through which we see an image of the virtuous life, which we are able to imitate. Ambrose writes, Our ancestors [e.g., Abraham, David, and Solomon] defined prudentia as knowing the truth . . . then [they defined] iustitia as looking after the fellowship of the human race (ad societatem generis humani). Therefore, David says, “He distributed, he gave to the poor, his iustitia remains forever” (Ps 111:9). “The just man is compassionate and he shows kindness” (Ps 111:5 LXX). To the one who is wise and just belongs a whole world of riches. The just man holds that which is common as his own and what is his own as common.10

In the paragraph immediately preceding this one, Ambrose had begun his analysis of the virtues by defining wisdom—which he speaks of alternatively as prudentia and sapientia—as the belief in God—because

relations. See Ambrose, De officiis, vol. 2, Commentary, ed. and trans. Ivor J. Davidson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 569–70. Cicero too sees social trust (fides), the bonds of fellowship (societas), and justice (iustitia) as expressions of pietas; consequently, any loss of reverence for the gods will result in a loss of fides, societas, and iustitia (Nat. deo. 1.2.3-4, LCL 268). 9 Ambrose also uses societas metaphorically to speak of a union or conjunction of things, such as virtues (Off. 1.18.69) or basic physical elements (Hexameron 3.4.18) or parts of the body (Hex. 2.1.1) or the soul and body (De Isaac vel anima 4.13; De bono mortis.4.13, 4.14, 9.41). 10 Ambrose, Off. 1.25.118.

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such knowledge is the source of the other virtues (Off. 1.25.116-17).11 Not surprisingly he alludes to Proverbs 9:10 “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” Therefore, when he turns to justice Ambrose illustrates the connection between wisdom and justice by quoting David’s encomium for the wise in Psalm 111 (LXX), “Blessed is the man who fears the Lord; he delights greatly in his commandments” (Ps 111:1);12 it goes on to describe the life of the sage who “has distributed, he has given to the poor, his justice endures forever” (Ps 111:9). This association of justice with care for the poor is, not surprisingly, a central feature in Ambrose’s understanding of justice and one about which I will say more shortly. For understanding Ambrose’s view of community, what is particularly interesting is his identification of societas as the telos of iustitia, “Justice is looking after the societas of the human race.”13 The connection between justice as the means and societas as the end hinges on a tension in Ambrose between the personal and the common good. His initial definition of iustitia in chapter twenty-four has three parts “1) allowing everyone to have what is his, 2) laying no claim to someone else’s, and 3) disregarding what is beneficial for the self for the sake of fairness for all” (Off. 1.24.115). Parts 1 and 2 are concerned with protecting the individual’s right to his own, both in the positive sense of allowing the individual to have what is hers and in the negative sense of not seizing and taking away what is hers. Interestingly enough, Ambrose does not use the language of “property” but merely the possessive adjective: suum in contrast with alienum. Thus “one’s own” may include a range of rights as well as property. Ambrose’s idea of iustitia erects a wall to protect a sphere of personal autonomy against incursion by those who would deprive others of such rights. But then in the third part Ambrose’s definition qualifies the individual’s sphere of autonomy. The limit to this sphere is not simply the 11

Davidson, after describing the structural difference between Cicero’s and Ambrose’s De Officiis, notes that although “A. too has nowhere ‘defined’ duty . . . he has made it clear that a right relationship with God is pivotal to right behavior . . . [and] how closely God is involved in the sphere of human activity.” Davidson, Commentary 552–53. 12 “Beatus vir qui timet Dominum: in mandatis eius volet nimis . . .” Vulgate Ps 111:1.. 13 Ambrose, Off. 1.25.118: “Primi igitur nostri definierunt prudentiam in veri consistere cognitione. . . . Deinde iustitiam spectare ad societatem generis humani.” (So then, our people were the first to specify that prudence consists in the knowledge of the truth. . . . They also insisted that justice has to do with looking after the fellowship of the human race.)

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mutual recognition of spheres—as we would say today “my rights end where yours begin”—but rather justice requires that the individual disregard or be indifferent to or not lay claim to (neglegere) what is personally advantageous (utilitas propria) in order to protect the common or public equality (aequalitas). While this might be construed as a logical corollary of the first two parts (that is, one does not seek personal advantage by violating another’s sphere), it may also mean—and this is what I think Ambrose is concerned with—not exercising certain rights at certain times that, though personally beneficial, would compromise the common good.14 Thus justice demands a limitation on one’s autonomy for the sake of collective welfare. Therefore, justice understood conventionally as “giving to each her due” means not only respecting her personal sphere but also preserving her ability to enjoy the common goods. Thus, concern for the collective good and the good of other individuals governs how one uses “one’s own.” The conception of justice as the disregard of personal advantage for the sake of the common good reflects Ambrose’s view of the relationship of the individual to the larger community. First, human beings were made social animals because of their need for mutual assistance. Appealing to God’s rationale for fashioning Eve as a helpmate for Adam, “It is not good for man to be alone; let us make him a helper” (Gn 2:18), Ambrose asserts that the obligation to give aid (auxilium) to one another is grounded both in God’s will and in the order of nature (Off. 1.28.134). The value of such aid, however, is not reducible to a mutual necessity for survival. Rather Ambrose sees such aid as contributing a sweetness or gratia to our life together that strengthens the bonds of fellowship (Off. 1.28.135). By extension, therefore, “No one should be kept back from doing his duty by a fear of danger; each of us must regard every situation as something which concerns him personally, no matter what the circumstances, adverse or 14 In Ambrose’s illustration of the reciprocity of the virtues (Off. 1.25.119), especially wisdom and justice, he points to Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac: “Fuit sapientiae Deo credere nec filii gratiam anteferre auctoris praecepto; fuit iustitiae acceptum reddere . . . .” (There was wisdom in it: he believed God, and he refused to put the attraction of keeping his son before the command of his creator. There was justice in it . . . .) This is consistent with his association of prudentia and iustitia with devotio and pietas towards God (Off. 1.27.126-27). In the case of Abraham, his justice is two-fold. First, it is a display of piety in that he is rendering to God his due. Second, although Isaac does not fall under the category of “the common,” Abraham, in giving up Isaac who was given to him, resists the impulse to lay claim to or possess Isaac as his own (suus). In so doing, he disregards personal advantage subordinating his desire to God’s wisdom.

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favorable.”15 The operative phrase here is “each of us must regard every situation as something which concerns him personally.” This is the essence of societas as an affective bond between individuals: the need of another is my need as well. This confident sense of mutual regard for another’s needs—even at risk to one’s own life—fosters the bonds of fellowship giving justice its glory and setting the just person on the pinnacle of virtue.16 Although this view is an extrapolation of Genesis 3, Ambrose is also drawing heavily upon Cicero’s understanding of societas. Cicero, in his De officiis among other moral treatises, explains that the service of the common good that builds up societas is grounded upon an innate sense of the bonds of mutuality that unite individuals into a community.17 He speaks of societas, which corresponds to the Greek notion of ʌȠȜȚIJȚțંȞ (Fin. 5.22.65), as an affection (affectio) for the interests of others and a sense of mutual dependence implanted by nature.18 Societas begins as an inchoate sense arising from one’s experience of affection and dependence within the family. As one grows from childhood, reason extrapolates from the experience of intra-family dependence and grasps the greater interest of the state and of the whole human family. 19 From this consciousness of interests beyond the self emerges a fundamental sense of justice, which he defines as an affectio that springs from the “bond of fellowship for mutual assistance.”20 Thus justice entails giving to each her 15

“sed omnia sua ducat vel adversa vel prospera” (Off. 1.28.135, trans. Davidson). Ambrose, Off. 1.28.136: “Magnus itaque inustitiae splendo, quae aliis potius nata quam sibi communitatem et societatem mostram adiuvat; excelsitatem tenet . . . .” (What a splendid thing, then, justice is. Born for others rather than itself, it aids the community and fellowship that exist between us. It occupies the moral heights . . . .) 17 Among the gifts nature has bestowed upon human beings, chief of which is magnitudo animi or the ability to resist the assaults of fortune, Cicero includes convictum hominum ac societatem. Cicero, Fin. 4.7.18, LCL 40. 18 Cicero quotes the Stoic view that nature implants in human beings the desire to procreate and from the procreative impulse comes parental affection for one’s offspring, which is the source of mutual attraction and feeling of kinship that unites people and is the source of the impulse to give assistance to those outside one’s immediate family. Although this phenomenon is noticeable in non-rational animals, the social bond that is the source of the conferral of mutual aid is “far more intimate” among people (Fin. 3.19.62). 19 Cicero sums up the developing sense of societas from the bonds of friendship to those of family to the human family quoting Plato’s Epistle 9 to Archytas, “man was not born for self alone but for country and for kindred . . . leaving but a small part of himself for himself” (Fin. 2.14.45). 20 societatem coniunctionis humanae munifice (Cicero, Fin. 5.22.56; Nat. deo. 3.15.38). 16

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due (Fin. 5.23.67). Philosophical reflection on the relation of the many to the one provides a theoretical understanding of societas that “calls scattered human beings into the bond of social life (in societatem vitae)” (Tusc. 5.2.5), and that acknowledges the rights of men rooted in the shared existence and experience of all people (in generis humani societate) (Tusc.1.26.64). Out of this recognition that all people are dependent on others to provide and protect those goods necessary for human flourishing one grasps the need for rights that ensure that all people have access to the common goods. Furthermore, society’s laws and institutions preserve and teach its members the idea of societas by upholding the collective understanding of justice through protecting the rights of its citizens.21 Cicero’s understanding of a populus as a societas, as defined by Scipio in Republic, is founded upon Roman law that uses societas to refer to a legal partnership held together by a “bona fidei contract” for the sake of mutual benefit.22 One way a sense of societas is instilled in citizens is through the study of philosophy, which offers instruction in virtue. Cicero subscribes to the view that there is a reciprocal relation between the virtues. That is, the cardinal virtues of wisdom, justice, courage and temperance, though distinct from one another, are yet united such that one must possess all four together in order to be virtuous. Courage not guided by wisdom toward a just end is not true or perfect courage. Therefore, since justice, which aims at the common good, is an essential condition for all other virtues, all virtues are, directly or indirectly, concerned with promoting the good of society as a whole. Yet, more than simply standing as the theoretical basis for our idea of justice and rights, the civic bonds of societas are essential for our experience of a life that is good and beautiful in the profoundest sense (Rep. 4.3.3). For, societas is friendship writ large; thus the tyrant’s unjust treatment of others so alienates him from the sweetness of societas that he

21

Political stability is preserved where relations between people are held together by a sense of mutuality or “sacred partnership and honor.” The laws of the state and its institutions can teach what this sense of mutuality is only if they uphold the equality of each citizen before the law. See Rep. 1.32.49, LCL 213. 22 In Roman law, because each partner contributes to the shared enterprise—though not in equal amount or form—each has a right to the shared benefits. In political terms, therefore, when Scipio says that a people has formed a partnership or an alliance, he means that the people have entered into a “common venture to manage a common property or res publica in which all members have an interest,” the goal of which is based on the promotion of common advantage (utilitatis communio) governed by laws (iuris consensus) to preserve that end. See Jed W. Atkins, Cicero on Politics and the Limits of Reason: The Republic and Laws (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 134.

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can never be truly happy.23 In sum, for Cicero and Ambrose, justice builds up the bonds of fellowship because the individual has a just understanding of his relationship to the larger group or other individuals and so fulfills his obligation to aid those who are dependent on him and on whom he himself is dependent. This concept of justice as an individual’s obligation to serve others in need is foundational for their understanding of the relation of private goods and common goods that informs his sense of both justice and generosity. For Ambrose, there is a fundamental reciprocity between personal and public goods: “To the one who is wise and just belongs a whole world of riches. The just man holds that which is common as his own and what is his own as common” (Off. 1.25.118). The individual is anything but an autonomous monad moving independently among other autonomous monads without violating their sphere of autonomy. The individual sees herself as a member of the whole contributing to and sharing in the common good. This view of the private and the public puts a Christian conception of justice and of societas fundamentally at odds with the view of those Ambrose calls “the philosophers”—by which he chiefly means Cicero and Cicero’s sources—who define justice as “doing no harm except to those who provoke by inflicting injury” (Off. 1.28.131) and as “holding what is common for the sake of the public and what is private for the sake of oneself” (Off. 1.28.132, quoting Cicero Off. 1.7.20).24 Although Ambrose agrees with Cicero that iustitia and beneficentia are the elements necessary to preserve societas, and that societas is closely associated with the “common bonds” (communitas) of a political community, Cicero defines justice as upholding a strict division between the common and the private. Justice entails “using the common things for the common and the private for one’s own.”25 Cicero (Off. 1.7.21-22) and Ambrose (Off. 1.28.132 and 135) agree that such a distinction does not exist in nature. Cicero explains that in the original state of nature all was common: the land was not divided but open for the use of all. Over time, 23

Cicero’s example of this point is the tyrant Dionysius’ envy of the friendship between Damon and Phintias and his inability to enjoy the social life (societate victus); see Tusc. 5.22.63. 24 Cicero’s discussion of iustitiae munera (Off 1.7.20-23a) tends to focus on preserving private property more than for communi utilitati. As Dyck notes, except at 1.16.51-2, Cicero does not treat property held in common in Off. See Andrew R. Dyck, A Commentary on Cicero, De Officiis (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1996), 109. 25 “Sed iustitiae primum munus est, ut ne cui quis noceat nisi licessitus inuria, deinde ut communibus pro communibus utatur, privatis ut suis.” Cicero, Off. 1.7.20.

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however, the land became private property when an individual or a group settled on it and made use of that land to serve their own needs. This occupation was the result of either settling on vacant land or by conquering the people who already occupied the land. Cicero’s state of nature in which there was no private property might be imagined as that of a primitive hunter-gatherer culture or a nomadic herding society but which ceased to be due to the development of agriculture. Yet within this present context where land has, through benign or malevolent means, been privatized, societas is maintained by not intruding on another’s property and through devoting one’s talents and labor to promote the common advantages (communes utilitates). His account of the transition from the state of nature to a state where land has been privatized is not a fall narrative. Cicero does not see anything wrong with the just acquisition of property as one’s own.26 This, however, was a point on which Ambrose parts company with Cicero. Although Ambrose agrees with Cicero that in nature there is only that which is common, he is reluctant to follow Cicero’s view that rights to private property must now be accepted as a way of protecting the individual from infringement by the greedy. He rejects Cicero’s defense of private property because he sees the unnatural impulse to delimit the private from the common as antithetical to justice and undermining of the spirit of societas that holds community together.27 The loss of the natural state where all goods are viewed as common comes from the primal greed (prima avaritia), which privatizes that which was held in common, especially land. Privatization is a blatant usurpation of what God intended to be common.28 26 As Dyck, Commentary, 110, notes Cicero’s genealogy of privatization has been misinterpreted as an attack on private property. He is not advocating “turning back the clock” to the original state. Cicero’s concern was with the just acquisition of property, in contrast to the unjust of seizure of property by Crassus and Caesar. 27 Admittedly, he seems to follow pragmatic acceptance of humanity’s unnatural social situation by not requiring his priests to sell all their possessions and give the money to the church—essentially renouncing their right to private property—but allows them to keep the income from their property if it is used liberally to serve others. See Ambrose, Off. 1.30.149 and 152. 28 “Natura igitur ius commune generavit, usurpatio ius fecit privatum” (Nature produced common rights, then; it is greed that has established private rights) (Off. 1.28.132). As Davidson points out, the point of contention is whether to translate usurpatio in the neutral sense of “use” or the pejorative connotation of “usurpation.” For a review of the diversity of scholarly opinion on this critical passage, see Davidson, Commentary, 572–73. Davidson’s conclusion, supporting Louis J. Swift, “Iustitia and Ius Privatum: Ambrose on Private Property,” AJPh 100 (1979): 176– 87, and M. Wacht, “Pritatiegentum bei Cicero und Ambrosius,” JbAC 25 (1982):

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Avarice leads to a breakdown in societas because it reflects the loss of both justice and generosity and because the greedy individual separates his interests from those of his neighbor (Off. 1.28.137). He no longer sees his wellbeing as bound to his neighbor but lives primarily, if not exclusively, for his own advantage. Such a separation of my interests from my neighbor’s interests allows me to distance myself from my neighbor especially in times of distress. Those who have been accustomed by the private ownership of property to think of the world dichotomously as “mine” and “theirs” are not inclined to sacrifice or restrict their own advantage for the advantage of others. This belief is the heart of the argument Ambrose advances in De Nabuthae, where he critiques the privatization of property as arising from a radical loss of mutuality due to the fallacious belief that life is a zero-sum game. Benefits are not shared; my neighbor’s advantage is my disadvantage. “You believe that what belongs to anyone else is your loss,” he declares to the wealthy of Milan, “The world was created for all but you few rich try to keep it for yourself” (Nab. 2.8). Since one man’s loss is another man’s gain, Ambrose reasons, the rich are not primarily desirous of enjoying a neighbor’s property, but far more sinisterly they seek pleasure solely in despoiling the neighbor’s property. Such an egoistic hedonism is contrary to nature and so reflects a complete loss of the bonds of fellowship. Commenting on Isaiah 5:8, “Woe to those who join house to house and field to field. They enclose with the aim of shutting others out,” Ambrose says that the wealthy, who buy up their neighbors’ properties to push their neighbors farther away spatially and socially, have reduced human life to something beneath that of non-rational beasts. For many species of animals have communal existence that “leads not to loss but to lively interaction when they strive for a large company and seek a kind of protection through solace of numbers. [By contrast] you, O Man, exclude your fellow . . . you extend the boundaries of your property so that you will have no neighbors” (Nab. 3.12). Ambrose envisions the ever-expanding enclosure of land within an individual’s private control as insidious, not just because it is an expression of avarice but of misanthropy. As such, privatization is not only antithetical to the higher Christian duty of caritas, but at a more fundamental level is contrary to man’s nature as a social animal. In sum, justice and generosity are simultaneously expressions of societas and necessary conditions for preserving societas. To put it simply, in childhood we develop an inchoate sense of mutuality. Through 28–64, is that Ambrose’s explicit contrast with Cicero means that Ambrose is not speaking of privatization in neutral terms.

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philosophical reflection on the order of nature and our experience of mutuality, the wise person comes to grasp the necessity of justice and generosity for societas. At the same time, the more we act justly and generously toward our neighbors, the more we build up the confidence and pleasure in one another that constitute the bonds of fellowship. As central as this affective bond is for preserving a just ordering of community, there are certain virtuous dispositions or affections that are corollaries of societas. Among the most important of these for understanding the relationship between Ambrose’s moral psychology and his view of community is misericordia, compassion. As we saw earlier, Ambrose appeals to Psalm 111 to provide a biblical account of the relationship between iustitia and societas. Having defined the telos of justice as “looking after the societas of the human race,” he illustrates how justice strengthens the bonds of fellowship by quoting verse nine of the psalm, “[The wise man] distributed, he gave to the poor, his iustitia remains forever,” and in the next sentence he jumps back to verse five, “A just man feels compassion and shows kindness” (Iustus miseretur, iustus commodat).29 Why does Ambrose reverse the order of the psalm placing verse nine before verse five? This reversal has the rhetorical effect of first providing an operational definition of what constitutes just action—namely, attending to the needs of the poor—and then identifying the affective motive for caring for the poor, namely misericordia: literally, to feel distress in one’s heart. Misericordia logically follows as a corollary of societas because where there is a deep sense of mutual dependence and familial affection, the suffering of any one member or group elicits emotions ranging from sympathetic concern to genuine personal distress among the other members. Therefore, in a community united by Christian bonds of fellowship, just generosity toward the poor, which provides the material and emotional requirements for their flourishing, arises out of the mutuality of compassion for sisters and brothers whose suffering causes the shared distress of the community. The importance of misericordia in Ambrose’s moral theology is clear early in De officiis when he identifies misericordia as the virtue distinctive of the Christian life, what he calls officium perfectum or perfect duty. Commenting on Jesus’ conversation with the rich young ruler (Mt 19:1622), Ambrose uses the young man’s recognition of the inadequacy of the Law for salvation and his ensuing question, “What must I do to be perfect?” to contrast the basic moral duties of the Torah, which he associates with Cicero’s officia media, and the higher, perfect level of virtue required of Christians. If one would be perfect in virtue, something more is required 29

Ambrose, Off. 1.25.118.

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than simply adhering to the Decalogue. 30 Jesus’ reply gives Ambrose a description of this perfect duty: “Sell all your possessions and give to the poor and you will have treasure in heaven.” This is an image of the perfection of our heavenly Father—the perfection that Jesus binds upon his follower in the Sermon on the Mount (Mt 5:48), commanding the sun to shine on the just and the unjust (Off. 1.11.37). Ambrose unites Jesus’ instruction to sell one’s possessions in order to provide for the poor and his description of our heavenly Father as one whose goodness extended to all people without distinction in a single word, misericordia: Good is the compassion (misericordia), which makes people perfect, since it imitates the Father’s perfection. Nothing commends the Christian soul as much as compassion, first in one who cares for the poor, so that you judge parts of nature as common which produce the fruits of the earth for all people to use and give to the poor what you have and assist the one whose shares your common humanity.31

Two things stand out in this passage. First, his description of misericordia is identical with his understanding of justice as providing for the poor. Moreover, second, even though he does not use the word societas, he grounds the works of compassionate justice to the poor in our bond with the poor, whom he describes as our brothers and sisters (consortes) because they share our common humanity (conformem). Moreover, such fraternal compassion for the poor reflects the perfection of God who, because he is

30

Davidson, Commentary, 481–82, interprets the distinction between the officia media and the officia perfecta to be the basis for Ambrose’s distinction in the twotiers of Christian vocation; i.e., between the ordinary believer and the higher sort who are consecrated to the service of Church, which entails a world-renouncing asceticism. If officia media, which Ambrose equates with the Decalogue, corresponded to the obligations of the ordinary Christians, then Ambrose would seem to make no distinction between the moral duties of lay Christians and observant Jews, which seems unlikely given that Ambrose goes on to identify the officia media of the Torah with the wisdom of the flesh in contrast with perfect wisdom which values eternal goods of God (Off. 3.2.9-12). Moreover, given that Ambrose does not in fact require his priests to sell all their possessions and in fact tells them that they may attain perfection even if they do not give all away (Off. 1.30.152), he cannot be making a contrast between the common duties of the laity and higher duty of the ordained to sell their possessions. The force of the officia media-officia perfecta distinction is to turn his readers, lay and religious alike, from a focus upon the worldly goods of the present age to the eternal goods that comes from an imitation of the Father’s perfect mercy, on which Ambrose focuses in 1.11.38. 31Ambrose, Off. 1.11.38.

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no respecter of persons, intends the land and its fruit to serve the common needs of his creatures. In no place in Ambrose’s corpus, however, does one see the concomitancy of compassion and the bonds of fellowship as much as in his homilies on the patriarch Joseph. These sermons come at the climax of his Lenten-long narration of the virtues that should characterize the catechumen’s life after baptism. To the young, Joseph’s resistance to the seductive wiles of Potiphar’s wife was an example of moderation and self-restraint. For the elite of Milan, who served in the imperial government, Joseph’s stockpiling of grain to prepare for the years of famine that Egypt was about to face served as an example of how the virtues of prudence and justice could protect the state against calamities. Even more, Joseph is an example of perfect virtue because of his compassion. At the beginning of the Joseph homilies Ambrose spells out for the catechumens the precise moral lesson they should take away: “the theme of the entire story has come to this: that we may know that the perfect man is not tempted to do wrong by avenging his suffering and does not pay back evil in return . . . [Joseph who lived] before the Gospel showed compassion when harmed and forgiveness when attacked” (Ios. 1.3). Similarly, in De officiis, Ambrose speaks of Joseph’s compassion as the pinnacle of virtue, “And what about his greatness of spirit (magnanimitate)? His brothers had sold him into slavery, yet he took no revenge for the injustice they had done him, but chose to banish their hunger instead” (Off. 2.16.84). It is precisely such perfection manifest in compassion for his brothers that makes Joseph a pre-figuration of Jesus’ compassionate justice that was made manifest in his self-emptying condescension at the Incarnation. Ambrose devotes considerable attention in the homilies to showing his catechumens how Joseph’s life is a pre-figuration of Christ’s. Commenting on Joseph’s interpretation of the dream of the stars bowing down to him as his father and brothers’ bowing down to him, Ambrose reads such celestial images alongside Psalm 148:3, “Praise him sun and moon; praise him all you stars and lights,” and asks “Who is he before whom parents and brothers bow down to the ground but Jesus Christ?” (Ios. 3.8). As Joseph is sold into slavery, Christ entered into the condition of humanity enslaved to sin in order that he might pay the debtor’s bond to free humanity from its debt (Ios. 4.19). As his brothers sold Joseph for various sums of gold, Christ, who is sold by Judas, pays the debt of sin and so is valued most by those, who are most conscious of the debt to be forgiven (Ios. 3.14), like the woman who anointed his feet in the house of Simon the Pharisee (Luke 7:36-47). Joseph was wrongly imprisoned on false charges and yet ministered to his fellow prisoners; so too, Christ who was without sin

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endured his passion impassibly and brought relief to those in bondage to sin (Ios. 5.26-27), even descending to those imprisoned in hell that he might release them from captivity to death (Ios. 6.31). As Joseph saved from starvation those suffering during the famine, Jesus opened the granaries of heaven—that is, life-giving wisdom and knowledge—to all men inviting them, “Come eat my bread” (Ios.7.41). When interpreting Joseph’s weeping for his brother’s suffering, Ambrose passes from simile to metaphor and says that Joseph’s tears are “Jesus weeping in him” (Ios. 11.66). Particularly important in this Christological reading of the Joseph saga is Ambrose’s treatment of Jacob. Although Ambrose does interpret Jacob’s rebuke (Gn 37:10) of Joseph’s presumptuous interpretation of his dream— the sun, moon, and stars bowing down as his father and his brothers’ bowing to him (Gn 37:9)—as a prefiguration of the hardness of the unbelieving hearts of the Jews who rejected Jesus, he also presents Jacob as having a paternal love for his disobedient children that is an image of God’s love for errant Israel (Ios.3.8-9).32 Similarly, he explains that as Jacob sent Joseph to see if all was well with the sheep his brothers were tending (Gn 37:14), Christ’s Father sends him to save the lost sheep of Israel (Mt 10:6 and 15:24) (Ios. 3.9). Jacob’s weeping when he sees Joseph’s precious coat covered in blood and thinks his son has been killed (Gen. 37:31-34) parallels the Father’s lament for lost Israel (Ios. 3.18). Jacob’s role as a figure of God the Father proves critical for Ambrose’s explanation of Joseph’s magnanimous treatment of the fratricidal brothers who sold him into slavery. When Joseph finally reveals himself to his brothers, he says, “I am Joseph. Is my father still alive?” (Gn 45:3). Ambrose sees here a parallel with Jesus’ own self-disclosure to the people he desired to save.33 Ambrose explains the significance of the juxtaposition of Joseph’s revelation of his identity as their brother—“I am Joseph”—and his question about the status of his father, “Is my father still alive?” by putting his own gloss of the statement into Joseph’s mouth, “Because I do not deny my father, I know 32

Marcia L. Colish notes Ambrose’s “exegetical embarrassment” over Jacob’s reproving Joseph, for his dream interpretation leads him to offer a “double typological” move according to which Jacob is a figure of both believing and unbelieving Israel. See Ambrose’s Patriarchs: Ethics for the Common Man (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005), 132–33. Yet, this is simply an instance of the polyvalence of Old Testament types in Ambrose’s figural exegesis in which Jacob is himself, as Colish notes, a figure of Christ. 33 The instances Ambrose has in mind include Jesus’ declaration of his identity as the Son of Man from Daniel 7:13 to the chief priest (Matt. 26:64), Jesus’ reply to Pilate’s question “Are you a king?” (John 18:37), and Jesus’ self-identification as the great I AM when he was arrested at Gethsemane (John 18:5).

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my brothers, if you recognize your brother or a father recognizes his son. Is my people still alive then? From a family of that people I have chosen a brother for myself” (Ios. 11.67). Ambrose’s gloss must have been just as cryptic to his catechumens in the 380s and 390s as it is to readers today. The sense seems to be that because Joseph claims Jacob as his father, he must also claim these men to be his brothers because they are all the children of his father. In other words, the fraternal bond Joseph retains for the very men who sold him into slavery is derived from their shared connection to Jacob. Since a people is known or called by the name of the patriarch, when Joseph asks “Is my father alive?” he is asking about the whole of Jacob’s tribe.34 Ambrose seamlessly moves from the scene in Joseph’s tribunal placing Joseph’s invitation to his startled brothers, “Come to me,” into the mouth of Jesus: “Come to me because I have come near to you, yes, even so far that I have made myself a sharer in your nature by taking on flesh” (Ios. 12.68). To his catechumens, Ambrose is giving the Christological meaning of Joseph’s story. The Joseph who at the beginning of the homilies is praised for the perfection of his compassion for his brothers turns out to be the Father’s only Son, who draws sinful humanity to himself by assuming their nature and so becoming their brother that he might deliver them from death into life. Then Ambrose’s Jesus says to his brothers—to the catechumens,“If you do not know the author of your salvation, at least do not flee from a partaker of your societas” (Ios. 12.68). In other words, by his Incarnation Christ has entered into the bonds of human fellowship and by that union with our nature has created a new societas that binds human beings with God. Even as Joseph forgave his brothers for selling him into slavery, saying, “Now, therefore, do not be grieved and let it not seem a hard case, that you sold me here; for God sent me before you,” so too Jesus from the cross forgives those responsible for his death. The significance of this forgiveness Jesus makes clear to his disciples, Ambrose contends, when at the resurrection he allays the disciple’s fear, “Peace to you. Do not be afraid (John 20:19)” (Ios. 12.69).35 By entering into the natural fellowship of those who share a human nature, the divine Son, who was without sin, offered himself as a payment for the debt of sin so that his brothers might be freed 34

The last line of Ambrose’s gloss, “From a family of that people I have chosen a brother for myself,” likely refers to Benjamin, who is a figure for Paul. Cf. Ambrose, Ios. 10.56-11.64. 35 Ambrose may be seeing a parallel between Joseph’s telling his brothers not to fear and Jesus telling his disciples not to fear. There is, however, an asymmetry between the episodes since the fear of Joseph’s brothers and the fear of Jesus’ disciples are triggered for different reasons: Joseph’s brother out of guilt at having conspired to kill him, but the disciples because they think Jesus to be a ghost.

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from slavery to sin and death (Ios. 4.19) and enjoy the freedom in the bonds of fellowship with God.36 What is distinctive about the correlative relation of societas and misericordia in the Joseph homilies is that the bonds of fellowship are not derived primarily from the order of nature and common property, as in De officiis. Rather Joseph’s compassion for his brothers is ultimately an expression of his love of their father, Jacob. It is then because of Jacob’s love of his sons who have gone astray that Joseph is moved to love and forgive his brothers. Thus, Joseph’s compassion for his brothers grows out of a bond grounded in their father’s love for all his sons and then Joseph’s act of compassion restores the societas broken by his brother’s malicious actions toward him. For Ambrose’s catechumens, these homilies illustrate how Christ by his merciful condescension to sinful humanity has entered into fellowship with us that he might draw us into fellowship with his Father and by extension into a new fellowship with one another. As we have seen, Ambrose’s notion of societas provides the integration of justice and generosity that MacIntyre is seeking. Where the bonds of fellowship exist, there is a sharing of that which is common and even a forgoing of what is personally advantageous to ensure that each member of the fellowship has what she needs to flourish. But because the bonds of fellowship have an intrinsic sweetness (gratia) akin to bonds of friendship, the members of the fellowship are not content with rendering to each only the bare minimum. Rather the goal of societas is to maximize the collective experience of that sweetness through a generous distribution of benefits. Furthermore, we have seen how misericordia as a corollary of societas provides the affective motive of mutuality, the shared suffering concomitant with the bonds of fellowship. More than this, however, Ambrose’s understanding of the relationship of misericordia and societas is more robustly theological than MacIntyre’s because it is grounded in God’s compassion manifest in Christ. Aquinas’ union of caritas (friendship toward God and neighbor), beneficentia (doing good), and misericordia (taking pity)37 presents a form of giving to others 36

Ambrose in De officiis 1.50.252-53 explicitly challenges the claim that communitas is more important than sapientia, which he associates with having faith in God and loving God with all one’s heart. While it is good to contribute to the fellowship of the human race (in societatem humani generis), we should devote what is our highest possession, our soul, to God. The one who is perfect, however, seeks nothing but societas with God, who is the highest good and alone is sufficient to be the source of happiness (Ambrose, Iac. 1.7.30). 37 MacIntyre, Dependent Rational Animals, 121, references Summa Theologiae 22ae.117.5.

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beyond the minimum owed by justice that is generous and carries a sense of mutuality, “in relieving the other’s distress I relieve my distress at her or his distress.”38 When MacIntyre answers the question what is the source of the compassion that gives the relief of suffering a proper sense of mutuality, in which the benefits of aid are multi-directional rather than a unidirectional largess, he cites the Chinese philosopher Mencius, “All human beings have the mind that cannot bear to see the suffering of others . . . when human beings see a child fall into a well, they all have a feeling of harm and distress.”39 The urgency of the need awakens a natural feeling of compassion that impels individuals, who have no relationship other than their shared humanity, to act to rescue the child in the well. There the emotions of delight and relief at the successful rescue are shared nearly equally by the child and his rescuers alike. Although for MacIntyre there must be an “education of dispositions [of mutuality] . . . to sustain relationships of uncalculated giving and graceful receiving,”40 the source of misericordia is what we might call our shared humanitas, a “pre-existing tie” or sense of kinship or empathy.41 Mencius’ scenario, however, is persuasive because the person for whom we feel compassion is a child trapped in a well—a figure of innocence and helplessness. But what happens if we recast the scenario, replacing the child with an officer in the Gestapo or a Southern slave overseer or Somali warlord? Is humanitas enough? In other words, is this natural affinity that elicits a general feeling of compassion sufficient to foster a compassion for one’s enemies—that compassion which creates the condition for the possibility of forgiveness and reconciliation without which there is no reconstructing a broken community? To be sure, Ambrose’s account of misericordia is every bit as grounded in natural law as Cicero’s or Mencius’. Had Ambrose stopped with a natural account of societas he would have little new or interesting to bring to this subject. Ambrose, however, does not stop with natural law. Although Ambrose was obviously unfamiliar with Mencius’ scenario of the child in the well, his interpretation of Joseph and his brothers reframes the question of who should be the recipient of Christians compassion. Unlike the innocent child in the well, these brothers cast him into a pit to die only themselves to suffer under famine and face starvation unless they can buy Egyptian grain. Within his two-fold figural presentation of the Joseph saga, Ambrose grounds the moral meaning in the spiritual or Christological 38

MacIntyre, Dependent Rational Animals, 121. The Book of Mencius 2A:5, quoted in MacIntyre, Dependent Rational Animals, 123. 40 MacIntyre, Dependent Rational Animals, 121. 41 Ibid. 39

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meaning and so lifts up Joseph’s compassion for his brothers as an example of mercy he expects his catechumens should show to all people, including enemies, because Joseph also is a figure of the Lord who has shown mercy to them. By situating our natural societas within the context of the Incarnation, Ambrose elevates the societas of our common humanity into the societas between God and humanity born of Christ’s assumption of our nature. Thus, the new societas between God and man creates the condition for a new societas between people. Moreover, by narrating the Incarnation through his figural interpretation of the Joseph saga, Ambrose illustrates— and indeed emphasizes—how Christ’s fellowship that united righteous God with sinful humanity creates the possibility for something greater than a generic, natural disposition of compassion—a compassion that extends even to those who are unworthy of mercy, even to the enemy within one’s own family. Joseph’s brothers did not merit mercy, not by any Classical standard of clementia or liberalitas.42 Therefore, Joseph’s compassion was conditioned by his father’s love. So too the Christian’s—and Jew’s—compassion is not limited by the merits of the person in distress nor of the urgency of his need; rather it is conditioned by God’s compassion that fashioned Christian fellowship through Christ’s passion and resurrection and at Pentecost with the gift of the Holy Spirit. Out of our love for our heavenly Father and our brother, Christ Jesus, our happiness is dependent on the flourishing of our brothers and sisters, even if they are our enemies, solely because they are loved by God. We also share in their misery, which therefore militates against our happiness. Consequently, the alleviation of their suffering is not a point of disinterested concern for us but strikes directly at the heart of our deepest interest, the fulfillment of God’s will in which we find our 42 Although there are certainly examples praised by philosophers of mercy shown by conquerors to the conquered enemy (e.g., Plutarch, Alex. 30.6; Lyc. 22.5; or Cicero’s praise of Caesar’s misercordia, Pro Lig. 12.37 and Off. 1.11.35), for Aristotle liberality (ਥȜİȣșİȡȚંIJȘȢ) entails giving to the right sort of person (N.E. 4.1 1120a10-11). Cicero lays out criteria to decide to whom liberality ought to be shown, which include nobility of character, a positive attitude toward the giver, intimacy with the giver, and being of service to the giver’s interests (Off. 1.14.45-48). In De clementia, Seneca not only rejects misericordia as a mere emotion—no more rational than a superstition (Clem. 2.5.1)—in contrast with clementia, which is mercy grounded in reason, but says that clementia should not be conferred frequently but given only to those who can be healed (Clem. 1.2.2). It is not the complete relief of punishment—to be just there must be punishment that renders to the offender his due—but a form or degree of punishment that stops short of what might be administered (Clem. 2.2.3). While clementia ought to be shown to a defeated enemy that demonstrated virtue in battle and so is consistent with reason and justice, pardon (venia) is an unjust failure to punish.

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happiness. Such mutuality, which promotes an ethical alternative to altruism, is possible within the societas we discover in the bonds of the Holy Spirit. For through his witness to the Father’s compassion, which conditions our relationship to each other, the Spirit is at work to reunite Christ’s divided body and refashion a badly broken world until we attain that more perfect fellowship that mirrors the fellowship and unity of the Triune God whom we confess and worship.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN ENNODIUS AND AMBROSE’S DE OFFICIIS IN OSTROGOTHIC ITALY GIULIA MARCONI

The present contribution re-evaluates a few ideas traditionally accepted by scholars regarding the transmission of Ambrose’s De officiis in Late Antiquity. 1 Ivor Davidson, in the introduction to the translation and commentary of Ambrose’s De officiis published in 2001, affirms that the book was scarcely distributed during Late Antiquity.2 The scholar believes that the number of thematic parallels which can be identified in Jerome’s Epistula 52 (393 AD) suggest that he read, at least out of critical curiosity, Ambrose’s De officiis.3 Paulinus of Nola probably alluded to Ambrose’s work in one or two passages of his Epistula 24 (400 AD).4 The first explicit reference to it, however, was given by Augustine in a letter to Jerome about 404 AD: nisi forte nomen te moveat quia non tam usitatum est in ecclesiasticis libris vocabulum “officii”, quod Ambrosius noster non timuit, qui suos libros utilium praeceptionum plenos “De officiis” voluit appellare. 1

On the problems concerning the title, the date, the models, and the purpose of Ambrose’s De officiis, see Ivor Davidson, “Introduction,” in Ambrose: De officiis, ed. Ivor Davidson, vol. 1, Introduction, Text and Translation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 1-112, and recent remarks by J. H. W. G. Liebeschuetz, Ambrose and John Chrysostom: Clerics between Desert and Empire (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 77-80. 2 Davidson, Ambrose: De officiis, 100-1. Of the same opinion is Maurice Testard, Saint Ambroise. Le devoirs. Introduction. Livre I (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1984), 53. 3 Davidson, Ambrose: De officiis, 97 and bibliography cited therein. 4 Paulinus of Nola, Epistula 24.7, ed. W. Hartel and M. Kamptner (CSEL 29), would evoke Ambrose, De officiis 1.183 (ed. M. Testard), and Paulinus of Nola, Ep. 24.13 is similar to Ambrose, Off. 1.193-4.

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(Perhaps the term bothers you, because the word “duty” is not much used in ecclesiastical books, although our Ambrose was not afraid of it, since he gave the name “On Duties” to certain of his books filled with useful rules of conduct).5

Paulinus of Milan, Ambrose’s notary, was maybe inspired by the De officiis for a few fragments of the Vita Ambrosii (412-3 AD), but never quoted the book explicitly.6 Like Augustine, Cassiodorus in the Institutiones listed the De officiis to be among those books regarded as useful to teach ecclesiastic discipline: utiles etiam sunt ad instructionem ecclesiasticae disciplinae memorati sancti Ambrosii “De officiis” melliflui libri tres. (Useful also for the teaching of the ecclesiastical rule are the three honeyed books of Saint Ambrose “On Duties”).7

Only during the seventh century, for the first time, was Ambrose’s work finally quoted explicitly by Isidore of Seville in the Etymologiae and in the De origine officiorum.8 Considering Davidson’s affirmations, we can infer that most of the authors active during Late Antiquity never came in contact with Ambrose’s De officiis, or were never particularly interested by the book, as no one directly quoted the text before Isidore. Moreover, it seems that most Late Antique authors considered the De officiis a text merely related to “ecclesiastic matters,” only useful to teach “ecclesiastic discipline.” A more in-depth analysis of the writings by Ennodius of Pavia and Cassiodorus shows, on the contrary, that Ambrose’s De officiis was the object of a very specific and new interest in Ostrogothic Italy. Ennodius began his ecclesiastic career in Pavia after the Ostrogoths conquered Italy

5

Augustine, Epistula 82.21, ed. A. Goldbacher (CSEL 34.2), trans. Wilfrid Parsons (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1951). 6 Paulinus of Milan, Vita Ambrosii, in Paolino di Milano: Vita di S. Ambrogio, ed. M. Pellegrino (Rome: Editrice Studium, 1961), 38-41. 7 Cassiodorus, Institutiones 1.16.4, ed. R. A. B. Mynors (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1961); trans. James Halporn and Mark Vessey (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2004). 8 For example, Isidorus Hispalensis, De origine officiorum 2.5.15 and 17-18, 2.25.13, ed. C.M. Lawson (CSEL 113). These quotations were identified by Anthony Lawson, “The sources of the De ecclesiasticis officiis of St. Isidore of Seville,” Revue bénedectine 50 (1938): 31.

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(ca. 493) and became deacon of Milan.9 He then devoted himself to the Christian rhetorical formation of the students of Deuterius’ auditorium that was inaugurated in the city’s forum at the beginning of the sixth century.10 Around 513, he became bishop of Pavia. The analysis of his texts (which include public speeches, letters, biographies, and epigrams) reveals that Ennodius directly quoted Ambrose’s De officiis, which was well before Isidore of Seville cited it in the seventh century. Let us take a more detailed look at the quotes of Ambrose’s text that Ennodius used in his work. Already during his clerical activity in Pavia, around 496/7, Ennodius wrote a speech to celebrate the anniversary of Epiphanius’ episcopacy. In it, he referred directly to the De officiis: si reddenda est de otioso sermone ratio, non minus de otioso silentio11

which recalls Ambrose’s De officiis: si pro verbo otioso reddimus rationem, videamus ne reddamus et pro otioso silentio.12

9

For a general overview of the life and works of Ennodius of Pavia, see Giulia Marconi, Ennodio e la nobiltà gallo-romana nell’Italia ostrogota (Spoleto: Centro italiano di studi sull’alto medioevo (CISAM), 2013). 10 The Milanese auditorium was transferred to the city’s forum at the beginning of the sixth century and it can be investigated by connecting and comparing different sources: Ennodius of Pavia’s dictiones and epistles (the only direct testimony), the data from the archaeological excavations in the Milanese forum and cathedral, and the information about other best known sites such as the Forum of Trajan, the Forum of Augustus, the Athenaeum in Rome, and the so called “University” in Constantinople. In the Milanese auditorium, where Deuterius taught, Latin rhetoric and law practice were the main subjects. This institution seems to have been created on the model of the Constantinopolitan auditorium Capitolii both by a legal arrangement inspired by Codex Theodosianus 14.9.3 (issued on February 27, 425), and through the enforcement of the Theodosian law in Milan. The Milanese forum, which once was the civic and religious center of the pagan city, appears to have become the cultural core of the Christian city, following a trend which is documented elsewhere. On this institution, see Giulia Marconi, “La scuola nel regno ostrogoto. Un ‘nuovo’ centro formative nell’Italia del Nord,” in Pratiche didattiche tra centro e periferia nel Mediterraneo tardoantico (Roma, La Sapienza, 13-15 maggio 2015), ed. G. Agosti and D. Bianconi (Spoleto: CISAM, 2019), 91-125 and the bibliography cited therein. 11 Ennodius, Opera omnia 43.4, ed. F. Vogel, (MGH, AA, 7), 43.4. Emphasis is mine. 12 Ambrose, Off. 1.9.

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The source of the Ennodian expression had already been noted by philologist Friederich Vogel in the nineteenth century,13 and more recently Franca Ela Consolino confirmed that the words used by Ennodius are too similar to those used by Ambrose not to be connected together.14 In the Praeceptum quando iussi sunt omnes episcopi cellulanos habere, which Ennodius composed by request of the metropolitan bishop Lawrence, the De officiis is explicitly quoted: confessor Ambrosius [ait]: “multi non dederunt errori locum et dederunt suspicioni”15

which recalls De officiis: quanti non dederunt errori locum et dederunt suspicioni.16

Finally, in Epiphanius’ biography, which Ennodius wrote after the bishop’s death, the description of the bishop’s handsome appearance is clearly filtered through Ambrose’s words: vox sonora, suco virilis elegantiae condita, nec tamen agrestis ac rustica nec infracta gradatimque a mascula soliditate deposita17

which recalls De officiis: vox ipsa non remissa, non fracta, nihil feminem sonans, qualem multi gravitatis specie simulare consuerunt, sed formam quamdam et regulam ac sucum virilem reservans . . . sed, ut mollliculum et infractum aut vocis sonum aut gestum corporis non probo, ita neque agrestem ac rusticum.18

These last quotes clearly prove that Ennodius used the De officiis to promote, as if it were a new concept, the pastoral model of the bishop-monk that Ambrose—first in the West—elaborated and promoted. And wearing 13

Friedrich Vogel, ed., Ennodius, Opera omnia (MGH, AA, 7, 1885), 41. Franca Ela Consolino, “Prosa e poesia in Ennodio: la dictio per Epifanio,” in Atti della terza giornata ennodiana (Pavia, 10-11 novembre 2004), ed F. Gasti (Pisa: Edizioni ETS), 100. 15 Ennodius, Op. 8.10. 16 Ambrose, Off. 1.87. 17 Ennodius, Op. 80.17. 18 Ambrose, Off. 1.84. Maria Cesa, Vita del beatissimo Epifanio vescovo della chiesa pavese (Como: New Press, 1988), 132, confirms that the Ennodian passage comes from Ambrose’s De officiis. 14

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the monastic cowl, the very symbol of humilitas, in the deacon’s daily life clearly shows Ennodius’ personal efforts in that sense. 19 Specifically, Ennodius combined these features with the figure of diplomat and orator, so that in the Vita Epiphani, unlike the other vitae, the bishop convinces, rather than begs, thanks to his remarkable oratory skills. The importance of oratory in pastoral activity at the time was taken up in Provence by his friend and rhetor Julianus Pomerius. He dedicated a number of chapters of his De vita contemplativa to the use of the word and the art of preaching which he considered to be the two strong points of episcopal power, so much so as to indicate the rhetor as a model which the bishop, in the public sphere, must imitate.20 These two authors, Ambrose and Julianus, are also at the extremes of a well-established tradition, which imposed on the clergyman the use of sermo humilis in preaching. At the time of Pomerius the question of the relationship between clergy and oratory seems to have been particularly important in Gaul, as shown by the numerous passages dedicated to the subject not only by the reformer but also by Caesarius of Arles.21 In his reflections on the relationship between clergy and oratory, Ennodius may also have been affected by the debates on the ecclesiastical language, which took place at the time in the Gallic church, of which he may have been directly informed by correspondence with Julianus Pomerius. A clue to this seems to be the fact that the only letter Ennodius sent to the rhetor, which we possess, shows that the deacon and Pomerius also exchanged views on rhetoric (Ennod., Op. 39). From Ennodius’ words it seems that Pomerius had criticized the style of the previous letter sent to him by the deacon because, coming from the Gallic rhetorical schools, he would have expected proof of the typical Italic style (latinitas), identified with the Roman aequalitas and the latiaris undae vena. As elsewhere, Ennodius did not delay in rebutting. He says that he would have answered him as he deserved, facing a discussion on eloquentiae pompae, if only he had not been prevented by religious professio, which required him to deal 19

We learn from a letter that Ennodius’ relative Apodemia, a femina religiosa who lived in Provence, had given him the gift of a monastic cuculla to wear (Op. 441.2). On this epistle, see Giulia Marconi, “La sostanza dell’effimero. L’abbigliamento dei chierici nell’Italia teodericiana,” in Pensando tra gli oggetti. Dai Greci ai giorni nostri, ed G. Falaschi (Perugia: Morlacchi Editore), 85-89. 20 On the importance of Pomerius’ De vita contemplativa in the development of Western monasticism, see Roberto Alciati, Monaci, vescovi e scuola nella Gallia tardoantica (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 2009), 164-69. 21 On the sermo humilis theorized and used by Caesarius, see William Klingshirn, The Making of a Christian Community in Late Antique Gaul (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 146-51.

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with the Christian faith (simplex doctrina) rather than secular and pagan things, such as rhetorical schemata. Ennodius used to respond to both stylistic and other criticisms in a biting and ironic way: it is possible, therefore, that, alluding to the relationship between clergy and rhetoric, he intended to recall the themes he knew to be of particular interest to the Gallic rhetor, endowed with a deep religious and profane culture (utriusque bybliothecae fibula). 22 The deacon made these concepts of the sermo humilis his own, as can be seen from the letters in which he called upon clerics and devoted laymen to the simplicitas rather than to adorn them with artifice.23 A careful consideration of yet another one of Ennodius’ writings, the socalled Paraenesis didascalica, reveals that the deacon also saw in the De officiis a reference text for his own teaching activity focused on Christian rhetoric and addressed to the students of Deuterius’ municipal school.24 The text is a public letter Ennodius posted under the patronage of Quintus Aurelius Memmius Symmachus at the beginning of the sixth century, in which he expressed his pedagogical ideas for Christian youth. According to Ennodius, what prompted the writing was the occasion in which two of his students from Milan, Ambrose and Beatus, asked him to write a 22 Ennodius, Op. 39.3-5: “in epistulis meis sine cura dictatis Romanam aequalitatem et Latiaris undae venam alumnus Rhodani perquirebas. Sollicitus credo scrutator et diligens quid lima poliret invenit, dum per infabricata verba discurreret . . . ergo etsi indigenas et inter studiorum suorum palaestra versatos fulcit latinitas, mirum dictu quod amat extraneos. Periclum facere de eloquentiae pompa non debeo nec praesumo qualiter quis valeat experiri, cum professionem meam simplici sufficiat studere doctrinae . . . .” 23 For example, with letters Op. 21 to Florianus and Op. 47 to Asturius the deacon reacted to linguistic polemics; Op. 5 responded to Florus’ criticism of the clerics; writing to Honoratus (Op. 64) Ennodius defended himself against the accusation of not having rendered the service requested by his friend. On the relationship between religious life and rhetoric in Ennodius, see Marconi, Ennodio e la nobiltà galloromana, 59-61. 24 About this text see Giulia Marconi, “Istruzione laica ed educazione religiosa nell'Italia del VI secolo. Considerazioni su Ennodio e Cassiodoro,” in Studi per Ovidio Capitani (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2013), 5-24, and, more recently, Luca Mondin, “Sullo scrittoio di Ennodio: la trama allusiva della Paraenesis didascalica (opusc. 6 = 452 Vogel),” in Il calamo della memoria 7, ed L. Cristante and V. Veronesi (Trieste: Edizioni Università di Trieste, 2017), 153-55. The rhetorical and Christian teaching carried out by Ennodius in Milan is testified by his so-called dictiones controversiae and ethicae. For the reconstruction of this educational context, see Giulia Marconi, “L’insegnamento della cultura cristiana nell’Italia ostrogota: l’apporto di Ennodio, diacono della chiesa di Milano,” Koinonia 44 (2020): 973-1001.

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“concinnatio didascalica,” namely a pedagogical text that could guide the two young men during their stay in Rome.25 It is therefore reasonable to presume that the educational path Ennodius illustrated in the Paraenesis could be the one he practiced as a Christian teacher in Milan. The letter starts with a brief introduction in which Ennodius exhorts the students to love the Christian God and their neighbor, and discloses in advance that he is going to write prose and verse in order to explain his teachings. 26 After that, Ennodius metaphorically calls to the front stage, through prosopopoeia, the personifications of verecundia, pudor and pudicitia, fides, grammatica and rhetorica: So while you rush towards the rock of disciplines, you must love verecundia . . . therefore always unite in close union pudicitia to pudor . . . welcome it [the mortification of the belly] and adorn it with the addition of fides . . . but with regard to these virtues, of which I have spoken, let us avoid the absence of the love of liberal studies, by means of which the goods of divine things are adorned like the splendor of a precious jewel . . . in front of the door, then, and in the first place, as it were a nurse of the other arts, place grammatica . . . in departing from it, when it has already given you the first instruction, Mars calls you with the rhetorical trumpets of eloquence.27

This sequence (we could call it an ordo or ratio studiorum) presupposes that students assimilate the Christian concepts of verecundia, pudor, pudicitia and fides; and only after internalizing these principles like a second nature, could they move forward to learn the communication techniques necessary to express them, namely grammatica and rhetorica.

25 Ennodius, Op. 452.1: “deo obsequimur, dum eius convenientia monitis inperamus. Nam quod petitioni vestrae studio caritatis adquiescimus, mystica sunt praecepta. Multi etenim supplicationibus exegistit, ut pagina vobis concinnationis didascalicae fingeretur.” 26 Ennodius, Op. 452.2-3: “deum tota mentis intentione mundis tenete visceribus et circa vos precum frequentatione mulcete, nullis ab eo animarum fornicationibus, nulla transactione diducti. fovete etiam proximos, quos facit naturale collegium, et ne quod vobis factum dolori esset, vos fecisse gaudetis.” 27 Authors’s translation. Ennodius, Op. 452.5-15: “ergo ad disciplinarum arcem properantes matrem bonorum operum amate verecundiam . . . pudor ergo cognatam semper sociate pudicitiam . . . hanc [ventris castigatione] admittentes fidei ornate consortio . . . de praefatis virtutibus facessat studiorum liberalium deesse diligentiam, per quam divinarum bona rerum quasi pretiosi monilis luce sublimentur . . . istae tamen prae foribus quasi nutricem ceterarum anteponunt grammaticam . . . hac vos digredientes iam institutos rhetoricis lituis evocat Mavors eloquentiae et quasi loricam hamis.”

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The curriculum imagined by Ennodius stretched from virtues to arts, following an educational path contrary to the Platonic one, which, through the enkyklios paideia, led the student to the contemplation of Divinity. This scheme suggests, instead, Ennodius’ knowledge of the cognitive theory exposed by Augustine in the De magistro. According to Augustine, the learning process, directed towards the knowledge of Truth, starts when the student listens to the inner teacher, God, and is realized through language, because words are divine “signs.” 28 Therefore, in Ennodius’ program, learning the traditional rhetorical techniques had to come after the knowledge of God; this, in turn, was only accessible to those who had conducted their life following Christian ethics. Ennodius, to summarize the key elements of Christian morality that his students had to follow, seems to have taken inspiration from the model Ambrose had created by reinterpreting, in the De officiis, the traditional Roman virtues in a Christian perspective. According to Cicero, verecundia was the sense of shame and the ability to hold back instincts and desires, setting human beings apart from animals.29 In the fourth century Quintus Aurelius Symmachus considered it one of the most important virtues for a public character, particularly if destined to be a part of the Senate. 30 In 28

On Augustine’s didactic concept of interiority, see Therese Fuhrer, “On Augustine’s Didactic Concept of Interiority,” in Teachers in Late Antique Christianity, ed. P. Gemeinhardt, O. Lorgeoux, and M. Munkholt Christensen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2018), 129-46 and bibliography cited therein. 29 Cicero, Off. 1.105, ed. M. Winterbottom (Oxford: Oxford Classical Texts, 1994): “Sed pertinet ad omnem officii quaestionem semper in promptu habere, quantum natura hominis pecudibus reliquisque beluis antecedat; illae nihil sentiunt nisi voluptatem ad eamque feruntur omni impetu, hominis autem mens discendo alitur et cogitando, semper aliquid aut anquirit aut agit videndique et audiendi delectatione ducitur. quin etiam, si quis est paulo ad voluptates propensior, modo ne sit ex pecudum genere (sunt enim quidam homines non re, sed nomine) sed si quis est paulo erectior, quamvis voluptate capiatur, occultat et dissimulat appetitum voluptatis propter verecundiam.” On the concept of verecundia according to Cicero, see Jaime Alvar, Romanising Oriental Gods: Myth, Salvation and Ethics in the Cults of Cybele, Isis and Mithras (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 151 and Walter Nicgorski, Cicero’s Practical Philosophy (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2012), 43-57. 30 Symmachus, Oratio 6.2-3 ed. J.-P. Callu, (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2009), for Flavius Severus: “Si posset ullus in tantis rebus ordo retineri, mores viri prius adsererem, tunc honores, sed intellego utrumque iungendum. Fideliter enim de ingeniis singulorum potentia iudicat. Olim pervectus in fastigia summa rei publicae adhuc dubitat an senatorem possit implere. Nempe auxit dignitatem nostram ista

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Ambrose’s De officiis, verecundia became an essential virtue for the cleric’s behavior, and it had to be expressed through a corresponding way of speaking,31 praying,32 moving, gesticulating, walking,33 and dressing.34 In the Roman moral system, pudor and pudicitia, namely sexual sobriety, were typically feminine virtues, together with castitas.35 Ambrose, cunctatio et superior locus factus est quem sibi optimus uirorum post honores potissimos reseruavit. Fateamur necesse est, patres conscripti, ideo nobis amplius esse delatum, quia properantibus aliis ad hunc ordinem nil negamus.” On this passage, see Cristiana Sogno, Q. Aurelius Symmachus. A Political Biography (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2006), 28. 31 Ambrose, Off. 1.67: “pulchra igitur est verecundiae et suavis gratia, quae non solum in factis sed etiam in ipsis spectatur sermonibus, ne (ultra) modum progrediaris loquendi, ne quid indecorum sermo resonet tuus. Speculum enim mentis plerumque in verbis refulget. Ipsum vocis sonum librat modestia ne cuiusquam offendat aurem vox fortior. Denique in ipso canendi genere prima disciplina verecundiae est; immo etiam in omni usu loquendi, ut sensim quis aut psallere aut canere aut postremo loqui incipiat, ut verecunda principia commendent processum.” See Davidson, Ambrose: De officiis, 2:506-7. 32 Ambrose, Off. 1.70: “in ipsa oratione nostra multum verecundia placet, multum conciliat gratiae apud Deum nostrum … Paulus quoque orationem deferri praecepit cum verecundia et sobrietate. Primam hanc et quasi praeviam vult esse orationis futurae, ut non glorietur peccatori oratio sed quasi colorem pudoris obducat, quo plus defert verecundiae de recordatione delicti, hoc uberiorem mereatur gratiam.” See Davidson, Ambrose: De officiis, 2:509. 33 Ambrose, Off. 1.71: “est etiam in ipso motu gestu incessu tenenda verecundia. Habitus enim mentis in corporis statu cernitur.” See Davidson, Ambrose: De officiis, 2:509-10. 34 Ambrose, Off. 1. 83: “ut enim artifex in materia commodiore melius operari solet, sic verecundia in ipso quoque corporis decore plus eminet, ita tamen ut etiam ipse non sit adfectatus décor corporis, sed naturalis simplex neglectus magis quam expetitus, non pretiosis et albentibus adiutus vestimentis sed communibus, ut honestati vel necessitati nihil desit, nihil accedat nitori.” See Davidson, Ambrose: De officiis, 2:516-23. 35 The bibliography on these Roman virtues is endless. It is appropriate here to quote the most recent works of Myles McDonnell, Roman Manliness, Virtus and the Roman Republic (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006); Alvar, Romanising; Catalina Balmaceda, ‘Virtus romana’: Politics and Morality in the Roman Historians. Studies in the History of Greece and Rome (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press), 2017. A particular strand of studies is that on the function of declamations as a didactic means of inculcating the values on which Roman society was based. See, on the predominantly educational-moral function of declamations, Margaret Imber, “Practised speech: oral and written conventions in Roman declamation,” in Speaking Volumes: Orality and Literacy in the Greek and Roman

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instead, considered pudor and castitas the fundamental features of the state of perfection to which every bishop should aspire. In order to reach this state of perfection, every cleric should adopt ascetic habits, such as fasting and sexual restraint.36 Fides was worshipped like a goddess by the Romans and meant both “loyalty” towards the res publica and “trustworthiness” as far as personal relationships were concerned.37 Ambrose identified it with the faith in the Christian God and with the trust relationship Christians build among each other, which guarantees justice.38 Grammatica and rhetorica, namely exegetical technique and eloquence, were the traditional competences related to Roman aristocratic status.39 To World, ed. J. Watson (Leiden: Brill), 199-216; Robert A. Kaster,“Controlling reason: declamation in rhetorical education at Rome,” in Education in Greek and Roman Antiquity, ed. Y. Lee Too (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 317-37; John Dugan, “Modern critical approaches to Roman rhetoric,” in A Companion to Roman Rhetoric, ed. W. Dominik and J. Hall (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell), 9-22; Martin W. Bloomer, The School of Rome. Latin Studies and the Origins of Liberal Education (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2011), 53-80. 36 Ambrose, Off. 1.69: “neque vero quisquam solius hanc laudem castitatis putet. est enim verecundia pudicitiae comes, cuius societate castitas ipsa tutior est. Bonus enim regendae castitatis pudor est comes, qui, si praetendat et (praecaveat) quae prima pericula sunt, pudicitiam temptari non sinat.” See Davidson, Ambrose: De officiis, 2:507-9. 37 On the Roman fides, see Mario Pani, “Sulla nozione di ‘obsequium’ in Tacito e Plinio il Giovane,” in Epigrafia e territorio. Politica e società. Temi di antichità romane 2, ed. M. Chellotti (Bari: Edipuglia, 1987), 173-96; Nicola Barbuti, “Sulla nozione di fides in Tacito e Plinio il Giovane,” in Epigrafia e territorio. Politica e società. Temi di antichità romane 3, ed. M. Pani (Bari: Edipuglia, 1994); McDonnell, Roman Manliness, 143. 38 Ambrose, Off. 1.142: “fundamentum ergo est iustitiae fides: iustorum enim corda meditantur fidem, et qui se iustus accusat, iustitiam supra fidem conlocat: nam tunc iustitia eius apparet, si vera fateatur.” See Davidson, Ambrose: De officiis, 2:581-3. On the relationship between the Roman traditional concept of fides and Christian Faith, see Teresa Morgan, Roman Faith and Christian Faith: Pistis and Fides in the Early Roman Empire and Early Churches (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015). 39 Starting from the third century BC a change in school paradigms took place in Roman culture, which led to the gradual affirmation of the Greek ideal of paideia, centered on the disciplines of grammar and rhetoric. The bibliography on the relationship between Greek paideia and the development of Roman educational institutions is extensive. See Stanley F. Bonner, Education in Ancient Rome. From the Elder Cato to the Younger Pliny (London: Routlege, 1977); Bloomer, The School of Rome; Hénri-Irénée Marrou, Storia dell’educazione nell’antichità (trad. it.) (Rome: Studium, 2016), and bibliography cited therein.

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Ambrose they were also tools allowing the bishop to face efficiently his pastoral activity, because to educate the masses he had to be able to interpret the Scripture and preach.40 What we have said up to now suggests that Ennodius’ operation reveals a paradigmatic cultural change taking place. Ambrose’s De officiis, as a matter of fact, had been explicitly dedicated to his spiritual sons41 and, as we have seen, up to that moment, it had been considered by Late Antique authors to be a useful book to learn disciplina ecclesiastica. Ennodius was the first to use it to elaborate a high-level educational program, focused on rhetoric, designed for the educated Christian heirs of provincial nobility as well as for Roman aristocracy, a program which was proposed along with Deuterius’ traditional teaching in municipal school.42 Ennodius concluded the Parenesis with a list of eloquentissimi men and virtuous women his students had to use as behavioral models: Therefore, o sweet children, try and achieve all these things and, after achieving them, safeguard them. But you could reply: “Which teachers and masters could we use, using the example of whom could we ascend, since Faustus and Avienus . . . are too busy counseling the princes?” . . . there are [in Rome] the patricians Festus and Symmachus . . . the patrician Probinus . . . the patrician Cethegus . . . the patrician Boethius . . . the patrician

40

On the importance of oratory and preaching in Ambrose’s conception of bishop, see Rita Lizzi, Vescovi e strutture ecclesiastiche nella città tardoantica (L’Italia Annonaria nel IV-V secolo d.C.) (Como: New Press, 1989), 36-57. 41 Ambrose, Off. 1.24: “et sicut Tullius ad erudiendum filium, ita ego quoque ad vos informandos filios meos; neque enim minus vos diligo quos in evangelio genui, quam si coniugio suscepissem.” For a thorough investigation into the way Ambrose envisaged the bishop’s role as a (mainly) moral and doctrinal teacher, see Carmen Angela Cvetkoviü, “‘Si docendus est episcopus a laico, quid sequetur?’ Ambose of Milan and the Episcopal Duty of Teaching,” in Teachers in Late Antique Christianity, ed. P. Gemeinhardt, O. Lorgeoux, and M. Munkholt Christensen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2018), 92-110. 42 The relationship between Ennodius and Deuterius was not without tension since traces of rivalry between them can be detected in Ennodian works. For example, in the speech with which Ennodius introduced his nephew Lupicinus to Deuterius, he contrasted his own Christian culture with the traditional one taught by the rhetor: “Maro vester tantis institutores suos commendavit, quntis ipse notus est … Hieronymus noster, nisi praeceptorem suum Gregorium diceret, illo melior conseretur” (Op. 69.13-5). On the relationship between clerical self-representation and rhetoric in Ennodius’ works, see Marconi, Ennodio e la nobiltà gallo-romana, 79-81.

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Agapitus . . . the vir inlustris Probus . . . and if you enjoy spending time with matrons, you have Barbara, a true Roman genius . . . and Stefania.43

These are all senators and matrons from illustrious gentes such as the Anicii, the Symmachi, the Rufii Festi, the Rufii, and the Corvini, which is further evidence proving that Ennodius’ educational proposition, which was innovative because of its Christian framework, did not call into question the central role the senator-orator had as a model for the education of Christian young people striving for a political career. The idea that Ambrose’s De officiis could have been rediscovered during the Ostrogothic era for educational purposes seems to be confirmed by the analysis of Cassiodorus’ Institutiones divinarum et saecularium litterarum. In the introduction of the work, Cassiodorus affirms that, around 534-5, while he was praetorian prefect in Athalaric’s government, he planned to reform the scholae christianae in Rome, and received the support of Agapitus, bishop of the city: When I realized that there was such a zealous and eager pursuit of secular learning, by which the majority of mankind hopes to obtain knowledge of this world, I was deeply grieved, I admit, that Holy Scripture should so lack public teachers, whereas secular authors certainly flourish in widespread teaching. Together with blessed Pope Agapitus of Rome, I made efforts to collect money so that it should rather be the Christian schools in the city of Rome that could employ learned teachers—the money having been collected—from whom the faithful might gain eternal salvation for their souls and the adornment of sober and pure eloquence for their speech. They say that such a system existed for a long time at Alexandria and that the Hebrews are now using it enthusiastically in Nisibis, a city of Syria. But since I could not accomplish this task because of raging wars and violent struggles in the Kingdom of Italy—for a peaceful endeavor has no place in a time of unrest—I was moved by divine love to devise for you, with God’s help, these introductory books to take the place of a teacher.44 43 Ennodius, Op. 452.18-25: “sed replicetis: ‘quibus ad ista magistris, quibus utamur institutoribus, quorum erigamur exemplis, cum Faustum et Avienum . . . sed istis in bono publico desudantibus . . . patriciis Festus et Symmachus . . . est etiam Probinus patricius ... est patricius Cethegus . . . est Boetius patricius ... est Agapitus patricius . . . . Est Probus vir inlustris . . . iam si matronam delectat aditio, habetis domnam Barbaram, Romani flos genii . . . est illic [Romae] etiam Stefania.” 44 English translation by Halporn and Vessey, Cassiodorus, 105. Cassiodorus, Inst. Praef.1-13: “cum studia saecularium litterarum magno desiderio fervere cognoscerem, ita ut multa pars hominum per ipsa se mundi prudentiam crederet adipisci, gravissimo sum, fateor, dolore permotus ut Scripturis divinis magistri publici

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On the purposes of such an institution scholars have debated plenty, and today most scholars believe that Cassiodorus founded a school that, for the first time, would have put together classical paideia and Biblical knowledge: a first example, then, of those Christian universities that would have only been formally instituted during the Middle Ages.45 In light of the results of the research I am conducting on late antique educational institutions, however, the following aspects seem clear: 1. the scholae christianae already existed; 2. there, the teaching of the Holy Scriptures (Old and New Testaments) took place; 3. the students were probably already baptized or catechumens (fideles); 4. until then the teachers were not professionals. Although Cassiodorus at the time held an official position in the Ostrogothic government, this initiative seems to have been based on setting up, with the help of the bishop of Rome, a public trust to hire professional teachers (locatio).46 This venture is consistent with the confidence that Cassiodorus, even as a praetorian prefect, expressed in the social utility of Christian values, and a result of the fact that the Ostrogothic government entrusted the ecclesiastical institutions with more and more civic and political functions, especially the administration of justice and diplomacy. A passage in Cassiodorus’ Varia 11.3 (533 AD) is clear evidence of this attitude. deessent cum mundani auctores celeberrima procul dubio traditione pollerent. Nisus sum cum beatissimo Agapito papa Urbis Romae, ut, sicut apud Alexandriam molto tempore fuisse traditur institutum, nunc etiam in Nisibi civitate Syrorum Hebreis sedulo fertur exponi, collatis expensis in urbe Romana professos doctores scholae potius acciperent Christianae, unde et anima susciperet aternam salutem et casto atque purissimo eloquio fidelium lingua comeretur … sed cum per bella ferventia et turbulenta nimis in Italico regno certamina desiderium meum nullatenus valuisset impleri, quoniam non habet locum res pacis temporibus inquietis, ad hoc divina caritate probor esse compulsus, ut ad vicem magistri introductorios vobis libros istos Domino praestante conficerem.” 45 On this mysterious institution, see Christine Delaplace, “De l’université au monastère: Cassiodore, Boèce, Symmaque et le maintien de la culture antique dans l’Italie du VIe siècle,” in Que reste t-il de l’éducation classique? Relire ‘le Marrou’ Histoire de l’Education dans l’Antiquité, ed. J.-M. Pailler and P. Payen (Toulouse: Presses Universitaires du Mirail, 2004), 171-78; Alberto Condorelli, Cassiodoro. Le discipline matematiche e l’ordine della natura (Catania: CUECM, 2007), 17-9; Massimiliano Vitiello, Theodahad: A Platonic King at the Collapse of Ostrogothic Italy (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2014), 182. 46 On teaching as possible object of locatio (a contract in which the lessor makes his services available to the lessee in return for payment of a fee), see Giovanna Coppola, Cultura e potere: il lavoro intellettuale nel mundo romano (Milan: Guiffrè, 1994), 173-76.

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Cassiodorus, recently appointed pretorian prefect by Athalaric, announced his promotion to Italian bishops. At the end of the letter, he expressed his trust in the fact that, if the bishops’ teaching action could have been completed successfully, eradicating from all human beings the temptations of the Devil, the activity of judges and courts would have become superfluous.47 The implicit connection of sins and crimes and the idea that, to keep social order intact, it would have been preferable to let the bishops take care of young people’s education, are reflections of the progress made by Christian thought in shaping the sentiment of those times. Particularly, one would think that a lot of cultural processes, which started at the beginning of the fourth century, finally came to mature rapidly during the Ostrogothic dominion over Italy, when some discontinuity clearly emerged in the educational training for young people. At the beginning of the sixth century, indeed, the deacon Ennodius composed the so-called dictiones controversiae and ethicae that would be the scholastic models used by the author for teaching Christian rhetoric (not to be confused with the catechesis) which he carried out in an ecclesiastical environment and not, as is traditionally believed, in the local auditorium. Together with the so-called dictiones scholasticae, these texts testify to two phenomena not otherwise attested in late antique Italy: on one side, some students of the local municipal school also drew on a teaching of Christian rhetoric offered by the church; on the other, orphans of noble origins, who had been entrusted to the church, were enrolled in the municipal school.48 47

Cassiodorus, Variae 11.3.22-30, ed. T. Mommsen (MGH, AA, 12): “excludite, sanctissimi, inter immundos spiritus implacabiles vitiorum furores, violentiam temperate, avaritiam depellite, furta removete, depopulatricem humani generis luxuriem a vestro populo segregate. Sic auctorem iniquitatis efficaciter vincitis, si eius persuasiones de humanis cordibus auferatis. Episcopus doceat, ne iudex possit invenire quod puniat. Administratio vobis innocentiae data est. Nam si praedicatio vestra non desinat, necesse est ut poenalis actio conquiescat. Et ideo dignitatem meam in omni vobis parte commendo, quatenus actus nostri sanctorum orationibus adiuventur, qui minus in humana potestate praesumim.” 48 Such information has important repercussions on the narratives relating to the relationship between Christians and traditional educational institutions between the fourth and sixth centuries. Eastern and Western Christians, beyond the declarations of intent, did not consider the traditional school curriculum, the collaboration of the clerics with the educational institutions, and the use of classical texts and disciplines as problematic, to the point of rejecting them. From a regional point of view, moreover, the educational activity identified in Milan suggests both that we reduce the phenomenon of the “Christianization” of classical-Roman education in Italy up to the Greco-Gothic war and that we re-evaluate Milan’s role as an important

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Back to Cassiodorus, we do not know, however, what other texts, together with Scripture and Christian exegetical works, constituted the program of the scholae christianae. Rita Lizzi Testa recently suggested the idea that the ratio studiorum described by Cassiodorus in the Institutiones for the monks of Vivarium, could reflect the curriculum that Cassiodorus could have introduced twenty years before in the Christian schools. If so, Ambrose’s De officiis, which is mentioned in the Institutiones, was among the books proposed to the young Christian students who aspired to a highclass training in the scholae christianae.49 The analysis just presented reveals that Ambrose’s De officiis was not ignored up until the Middle Ages—as it was customary to think. It was instead appreciated and used during the Ostrogothic era by characters such as Ennodius and Cassiodorus, who took upon themselves to organize, on the model of the traditional scholastic curriculum, a teaching of high rhetorical level that would focus on Christian culture and would be addressed to the educated upper class. Then, for the first time, the De officiis became appreciated as a point of reference upon which a new educational program could be modeled, one that could meet the needs of the future members of a Christian ruling class, be they laymen or clerics. And probably this revaluation conditioned the subsequent high-medieval transmission of the De officiis.50

recruitment basin for the functionaries of the Ostrogothic court in Ravenna and for the staff of the Roman church at the beginning of the sixth century. On this “Christian” educational context, see Marconi, “L’insegnamento della cultura cristiana.” 49 See Rita Lizzi Testa, “Tradizione e innovamento nella scuola tardoantica. Note introduttive,” in Pratiche didattiche tra centro e periferia nel Mediterraneo tardoantico (Roma, La Sapienza, 13-15 maggio 2015), ed. G. Agosti and D. Bianconi (Spoleto: CISAM, 2019), 20. 50 As a matter of fact, the anonymous Vita Ambrosii, written during the Carolinginan era, mentioned the De officiis first among Ambrose’s works and described it as a fully successful attempt to illustrate a life model for clerics and laymen in both an elegant and clear way: “primam itaque ecclesiasticorum ordinum institutionem et catholicae vitae formulam in libris suis quos de officiis praenotavit luculenter inseruit et evidenter expressit.” On this passage, see Pierre Courcelle, Recherches sur saint Ambroise: “vies” anciennes, culture, iconographie (Paris: Études Augustiniennes, 1973), 59 and 127: “sans tenir compte non plus de la chronologie des oeuvres ambrosiennes, il signale en premir lieu le De officiis comme contenant les vues d’Ambroise sur la hiérarchie ecclésiastique et sur la conduite de vie catholique . . . .”

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Ancient Sources Ambrose texts cited in this volume, including the editions and translations used by the authors. SAEMO volumes, with facing Latin and Italian translations of the Latin, follow the CSEL editions, but the SAEMO editor may alter or supplement the Latin (although sometimes only with a footnote). For this reason, and for efficiency, SAEMO volumes may be cited without reference to specific CSEL editions. —. De bono mortis: CSEL 32.1 (ed. Schenkl, 1897). —. De Cain et Abel: CSEL 32.1. —. De excessu fratris: CSEL 73 (ed. O. Faller, 1955); SAEMO 18 (ed. and trans. G. Banterle, 1985). —. De Fide: CSEL 78 (ed. O. Faller, 1962); SAEMO 15 (ed. and trans. C. Moroschini, 1984). —. De incarnationis dominicae sacramento: SAEMO 16 (ed. C. Moreschini, 1979). —. De institutione virginis: SAEMO 14.2 (ed. and trans. F. Gori, 1989). —. De interpellatione Iob et David: SAEMO 4 (ed. and trans. G. Banterle, 1980); ed. and trans. M. P. McHugh (Washington, D.C., 1972). —. De Isaac vel anima: CSEL 32.1. —. De mysteriis: CSEL 73. —. De Nabuthae historia: CSEL 32.2; SAEMO 6 (ed. and trans. F. Gori, 1986). —. De obitu Theodosii: CSEL 73; SAEMO 18. —. De obitu Valentiniani: CSEL 73; SAEMO 18. —. De officiis: ed. Davidson (Oxford, 2001); SAEMO 14 (ed. and trans. G. Banterle, 1991); ed. M. Testard (Les Belles Lettres: 1984). —. De sacramentis: CSEL 73. —. De Spiritu Sancto: CSEL 79 (ed. O. Faller, 1964). —. De viduis: SAEMO 14.1 (ed. F. Gori, 1989). —. De virginibus: SAEMO 14.1. —. De virginitate: SAEMO 14.2.

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—. Epistulae: CSEL 82.1 (ed. O. Faller, 1968; books 1-6); CSEL 82.2 (ed. M. Zelzer, 1990: books 7-9); CSEL 82.3 (ed. M. Zelzer, 1982: book 10 and Epistulae extra collectionem). Also, SAEMO 19 (ed. and trans. G. Banterle, 1988: 1-35); 20 (ed. and trans. G. Banterle, 1988: letters 3669); 21 (ed. and trans. G. Banterle, 1988: letters 70-77). —. Exhortatio virginitatis: SAEMO 14.2. —. Explanatio Psalmorum XXII: CSEL 64 (ed. M. Petschenig, 1919; M. Zelzer, 1999); SAEMO 7/8 (ed. and trans. L. F. Pizzolato, 1980); trans. Í. M. Di Riain (Dublin, 2000). —. Expositio evangeli secundum Lucam: SC 45 (ed. G. Tissot, 1956: books 1-6); SC 52 (ed. G. Tissot, 1958: books 7-10). —. Expositio Psalmi CXVIII: CSEL 62 (ed. M. Petschenig, 1913); SAEMO 9/10 (ed. and trans. L. F. Pizzolato, 1980); trans. Í. M. Di Riain (Dublin, 1998). —. Hexameron: CSEL 32.1, 1-261; SAEMO 1 (ed. and trans. G. Banterle, 1979); trans. J. J. Savage (New York, 1961). —. Hymni: SAEMO 22 (ed. G. Banterle, et al., 1994). Paulinus of Milan. Vita Ambrosii: ed. M. Pellegrino (Rome, 1961); ed. A. A. R. Bastiansen (Milan, 1975); trans. Mary S. Kaniecka (Washington, D. C., 1928); trans. J. Halporn and M. Vessey (Liverpool, 2004). Ancient sources specifically cited, not only referenced, by contributors. Athanasius. Epistula ad Marcellinum: PG 27. —. Four Discourses against the Arians: trans. J. H. Newman and A. Robertson (Buffalo, NY, 1892). Augustine. De civitate Dei: CCL 48; trans. William M. Green (Cambridge, MA, 1963). —. Confessions: CCL 27; ed. James J. O’Donnell (Oxford, 1992). —. Contra litteras Petiliani: CSEL 52. —. De doctrina Christiana, ed. and trans. R. P. H. Green (Oxford, 1995). —. De gratia Christi et de peccato originali: PL 44. —. Epistula 29, CSEL 88 (ed. Divjak, 1981); Epistula 88: CSEL 34.2 (ed. A. Goldbacher, 1898); trans. W. Parsons (Washington, D. C., 1951). —. Praedestinatus: PL 53. Benedict. Regula: SC 182. Cassiodorus. Institutiones Divinarum et Saecularium Litterarum: ed. R. A. B. Mynors (Oxford, 1961); Fontes Christiani 39 (ed. Wolfgang Bürsgens, 2003); trans. Halporn and Vessey (Liverpool, 2004). —. Variae: MGH, AA 12 (ed. T. Mommsen, 1894).

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INDEX

Aaron’s rod, 41, 59, 63, 64 aesthetics/ aesthetic theology, 8-9, 108-9, 113, 151-52, 154, 16263, 165-66, 169-70 allegory, 91, 95, 97-98 Altar of Victory controversy, 25, 38-39, 55, 159, 254 Ambrose of Milan and bishops, 6, 34, 38, 40, 42, 46, 48-50, 55, 64, 74, 139, 185, 199, 204, 237 and emperors, 4-6, 14-17 and the Franks, 20-21, 23, 25-26 and the Marcomanni, 27-30 and the Persians, 14-15, 17-18, 20 first aristocratic bishop, 3, 11, 30-31, 34, 47 Ambrose of Milan writings De bono mortis, 93, 168-69, 207 De Cain et Abel, 71, 93, 152 De exessu fratris, 31, 34, 48 De Fide, 52, 93, 190 De incarnationis dominicae sacramento, 190, 191 De institutione virginis, 58 De interpellatione Iob et David, 184-86, 190-93, 195, 198, 201-2, 204 De Ioseph, 217-220 De Isaac vel anima, 58, 66, 93, 95, 98, 111, 168, 170, 201, 207 De mysteriis, 62, 93, 101 De Nabuthae historia, 4, 36, 54, 214 De obitu Theodosii, 52 De obitu Valentiniani, 23, 39, 52

De officiis, 4, 9-10, 22, 35-37, 46, 48, 53, 56, 93, 98, 114, 174-79, 183, 206-8, 210, 212, 215, 217, 220, 224-27, 229, 231-35, 237-38 De sacramentis, 62, 93, 101 De Spiritu Sancto, 37, 100, 146 De viduis, 58 De virginibus, 7, 58-66, 69, 7172, 74-76 De virginitate, 7, 58-76, 119 Epistulae, 13, 20, 24-25, 30, 32, 36-41, 45, 48-51, 54-57, 8082, 87, 91, 99, 117, 135, 13839, 141, 159, 169-70, 173-74, 177, 198, 211, 224-25 Exhortatio virginitatis, 58 Explanatio Psalmorum XXII, 24, 108, 140 Expositio evangeli secundum Lucam, 37, 114, 202 Expositio Psalmi CXVIII, 8, 58, 62, 82, 110, 120-22, 133, 191 Hexameron, 8, 93, 151-52, 166, 170-71, 207 Hymni, 135-51 Ambrosian liturgy, 85 amicitia, 46, 47, 49, 53, 54, 55 Ammianus Marcellinus, 29, 32 anthropology, 4, 193 Apelles, 155, 158-60, 162-63, 16869 Apollinarius of Laodicea, 121, 123 apostle, 62, 66, 71, 82, 87, 92, 108, 115, 118, 124, 191 Aquileia, 17, 20, 27, 34, 40, 48, 198 Arbogastes, 20-27 Arcadius, 19, 24, 26, 52

Ambrose of Milan and Community Formation in Late Antiquity Arianism, 6, 26, 34, 185-86, 191, 204 Aristotle, 139, 205, 222 artifex (God as), 152-53, 156, 158, 160-61, 165, 167, 170-71, 232 artist (God as), 152, 155-57, 162-64, 167-68, 180 Athalaric, 235 Athanasius, 12, 129, 187, 189, 235 Augustine, 3, 12-13, 19, 26, 31-32, 40, 56, 97- 99, 104-5, 123, 125, 138, 140, 144-45, 151, 172-74, 176, 183, 197, 222-25, 231 baptism, 20-21, 62, 97, 102, 107, 122, 217 Basil of Caesarea, 26, 35, 48, 108, 151, 166, 170, 191, 217 basilica, 23, 36, 55, 66, 154 Ambrosiana (martyrium), 45, 55, 80 crisis, 8, 40, 51, 90-91 Nova, 77 Portiana, 39, 77 San Vittore, 39, 77 Bauto, 22, 25-27, 39 beauty, 7, 8, 91, 99, 101-3, 107-9, 111-13, 119, 157-59, 163-67, 169, 217 beneficentia, 36, 112, 120 bride, 7, 66, 91-96, 100, 102, 104, 118 Byzantine, 118, 135, 154, 166 Callinicum, 15, 40, 43-44 caritas, 214, 220 Cassiodorus, 9, 104, 225, 235-8 catechesis, 112-13, 137-38, 141, 170, 237 catechumens, 101, 217, 219-20, 222, 236 charis, 158, 159-60, 162-63, 168, 171 chastity, 27, 61, 63, 67, 84, 96 Christianization (of classical culture), 29, 35, 134, 237

265

Christology (-ical), 74, 119, 218-19, 221 Cicero, 9, 36, 38, 46, 52-53, 93, 120-21, 157, 163-65, 172, 177, 182, 192-94, 206-7, 210-14, 222, 231 clergy, 2, 23-24, 34, 93, 103, 228-29 Codex Theodosianus, 24, 154, 162, 226 common good, 7, 52, 208-12 Constans, 32-33 Constantine I, 17, 153 Constantine II, 32-33 Constantius II, 32-33, 42 contemplation, 42, 110-11, 140, 164, 231 creation (God’s), 8, 107-8, 111, 146, 151, 153, 156, 164-66, 171 creed, 42, 107, 136, 138, 140-43, 145-46, 148-49 Cyprian of Carthage, 46, 53, 60, 63 Damasus, 26, 39, 55 David (King), 8, 9, 40, 83, 112-13, 116-18, 139, 177-81, 184-85, 187, 207 decorum, 95, 98, 169, 182, 232 Deuterius, 226, 229, 234 devil, see Satan diabolus, see Satan doctrine, 76, 81, 109, 112-17, 119, 137, 141, 147, 189-90, 192 doubt, 72-3, 117, 172 education/pedagogy, 8-10, 33, 94, 107, 112, 115, 126, 132, 165, 175, 179, 221, 229-30, 233, 235, 237 enchantment, 8, 107, 136-38, 14043, 145-46, 148-50 Ennodius of Pavia, 224-31, 233-35, 237-38 epigrams, 165, 169, 226 episcopal authority, 7, 36, 59, 63, 65, 75

266 eschatology, 46, 52, 62, 70, 109, 113 ethics, 4, 9, 52, 54, 56, 68, 185, 19293, 200, 205, 218, 231 Eucharist, 101-3, 144 Eugenius, Flavius, 22-23, 26, 28, 48 eunomianism (anomianism), 185, 191, 198 Eusebius, 17, 28, 49, 68, 121 exegesis, 7, 70, 73, 98, 106-7, 109, 111-13, 115, 117, 119, 121-24, 131, 133, 136, 144, 184, 218 fides, 46, 69, 141, 148-49, 207, 230, 233 filius, 38, 49, 189 forgiveness, 41, 109, 217, 219, 221 Franks, see Ambrose of Milan Frigidus (Battle of), 21, 23-24, 26 Fritigil, 27-28, 30 Gaudentius of Brescia, 30, 34, 37 generosity, 9, 21, 36, 126-27, 212, 214-15, 220 Gervasius and Protasius, see martyr gods/goddesses (Greek, Roman), 37, 46, 125, 129-31, 156, 169, 207, 231, 233 goodness, 56, 107, 194, 206, 216 grace/gratia, 13, 38, 53, 56-57, 60, 64-65, 71, 75, 80, 82-83, 85, 92, 100-2, 104, 108, 112, 123, 13335, 159-63, 164-66, 167, 17071, 176-77, 180, 182, 192-93, 195-97, 200, 220-1, 232 grammatica, 230, 233 Gratian, 18, 22, 38, 48, 151-52, 154 Gregory of Tours, 22, 98 harmony, 108, 110, 164-65 heresy (heretic), 2, 4, 82-83, 139, 147, 184-85, 190-91, 197-99, 202-4 hierarchical relationship, 7, 58 Hilary of Poitiers, 69, 121-23, 125, 134, 137

Index honey, 64, 75 Honorius, 17, 23, 50-52 hook (fish), 59, 69-71, 75-76, 157 human nature, 96, 99, 109, 175, 195, 219, 222 humilitas/humility, 19, 42, 114, 130, 176-80, 195-96 hymn/hymnody, 6-8, 40, 42, 84, 86, 91, 107-8, 110, 112, 114, 135147, 150, 170 iambic dimeter, 135, 148 image/imagery/imago, 5, 7, 11, 38, 45, 78, 91-93, 95, 98, 103-5, 111-12, 115, 151-52, 155-57, 160-62, 164-71, 173, 181, 19295, 197, 200-1, 203-4, 207, 216, 218 interpretation of scripture, 61, 66, 72-74, 76, 81, 95, 104, 106, 122, 124, 133, 155, 167, 175-76, 181, 187, 217-18, 221-22 inventio martyrum, 40, 79 Isidore of Seville, 225-26 Jacob (patriarch), 218-20 Jerome, 12, 24, 30, 94, 121, 174, 224, 234 Jerusalem, 59, 62, 66-67, 75, 95, 101-2, 144, 160 Joseph (patriarch), 100, 217-22 Judaism (Jewish, Jew), 115 190, 202 Justice/iustitia, 9, 36-37, 39, 65, 67, 72, 84, 124, 130-31, 176, 178, 180, 193, 206-17, 220-22, 233 Justina (empress), 42, 51, 78 Justinian, 29, 160 Laocoön, 128-30, 132, 134 Latin West, 30, 34, 55, 120, 137 law biblical, 42, 67, 71, 84, 102, 110, 114-17, 122, 161, 181, 188, 215 natural, 9, 153, 160, 221

Ambrose of Milan and Community Formation in Late Antiquity Roman, 24, 32-33, 160, 162, 211, 226 Lawrence, see martyr Liturgy/rite/worship, 7, 77, 79, 81, 84-85, 89, 107-9, 122, 139, 14445, 147, 150, 223 Ambrosian rite, 84-85 love, 7, 36, 56, 65, 72, 91-92, 94-99, 101, 104, 109, 115-16, 123-24, 133, 169, 179, 218, 220, 222, 230 MacIntyre, Alasdair, 205-6, 220-21 Marcellina, 13, 40, 45, 47-48, 5051, 55, 60-61, 80, 85, 88, 93 Marcomanni, see Ambrose of Milan Maroboduus, 28-29 Marcus Aurelius, 29, 165, 172 martyr/martyrdom, 6, 7, 16, 45-46, 55-57, 59-60, 65, 72, 75, 77-87, 142 Gervasius and Protasius, 21, 45, 55, 77-80, 82, 84-88 Lawrence, 54, 227 Nabor and Felix, 78, 141 Stephen, 69 Mary (mother of Jesus), 60, 73, 100, 116 Mary Magdalene, 73-74, 76 Mascezel, 21, 76 Maximus, Magnus, 17, 19, 22, 25 misericordia/compassion, 9, 36, 53, 131, 205-7, 215-17, 219-23 monasticism, 132, 228 morality, 113, 163, 231-32 Moses, 21, 71, 203 munera, 24, 203, 212 mutuality, 205-7, 210-11, 214-15, 220-21, 223 mystagogy, 8, 101, 107, 137, 139, 146, 200 mystery, 100, 103, 107, 111-13, 117, 119, 122, 133, 181 Nabor and Felix, see martyr

267

nature, 36, 53, 57, 107, 140, 144, 149, 153, 157, 164-65, 167, 170, 175, 192, 196, 209-10, 212-16, 220 natural law, see law New Testament, 117, 124, 127, 172, 179, 187 Nicaean, 3, 34, 42-43, 77, 90, 102, 104, 117, 137-38, 141-42, 14647, 184-91, 194, 198, 204 Old Testament, 9, 19, 35, 98, 102, 115, 117, 146, 172, 179, 187-88, 218 Origen, 60, 64, 69, 94-95, 99, 102, 115, 121-23, 133 orthodoxy, 4, 138-39, 142, 146 Ostrogoths, see Ambrose of Milan Pacatus, 18, 22 paideia, 143, 221, 233, 236 Palladius of Ratiaria, 20, 34, 197-98 parable, 123-24, 126, 129-31, 171 parrhasios, 155-56 passions, 99, 110, 140, 185, 192-93, 197 patriarchs, 4, 66-67, 93, 185, 188, 193, 195-96, 207, 218 patrocinium (patron, patronage, patronus, prostates), 19, 45-57, 78, 82, 161, 229 Paul (apostle), 12, 62, 66, 68-70, 8182, 87, 92, 122-23, 133-34, 176, 187, 199, 201, 219 Paul the Deacon, 30 Paulinus of Milan, 12-15, 20-21, 23, 25, 27-28, 30-32, 37, 40-41, 51, 114, 135, 225 Paulinus of Nola, 54, 224 pedagogy, see education perfection, 62, 64, 86, 99, 102, 111, 115-17, 119, 133, 159, 165, 167, 181, 183, 216-17, 219, 233 persecution, 24, 38, 82-84, 86, 115 Persian(s), see Ambrose of Milan

268 Peter (apostle), 58-59, 66, 68-71, 73-75, 127, 145, 194, 201, 203 Petronius, 159 pharisee, 123-34, 217 philosophy, 9, 53, 169, 172, 176, 181, 185, 187, 189-93, 195-99, 201, 203-4, 212, 222 Philostratus (Elder, Younger), 151, 153-54, 163-66, 168, 179 pictor/painter, 152-53, 156, 158, 160-61, 167, 151 Plato, 106, 121, 139, 151, 165 Pliny (Elder, Younger), 151-60, 162-63, 165-71, 233 Plotinus, 99, 120-21, 151, 165-66, 168-69 poetry, 7, 8, 40, 91, 93-95, 98, 10713, 119, 136, 144-46, 148, 150, 165 poor/poverty, 1, 2, 6-7, 21, 36, 4548, 53-57, 123, 128, 207-8, 21516, 228 potentia, 15, 20, 231 preaching, 69, 92, 104, 106-7, 110, 112, 137, 139-40, 145-46, 173, 183, 200, 228, 234 Probus, Sextus Petronius, 14-15, 1720, 29-30, 48, 159, 235 property, 37, 48, 52-53, 208, 21114, 220 Protogenes, 158-59, 162, 220 Prudence/prudentia, 176, 178, 180, 182, 206-9, 217, 237 Psalms (the book of), 8, 10, 106, 114, 119, 138, 140, 184-85 Pseudo-Lucian, 154, 156 pudor/pudicitia, 230, 232-33 reconstruction, 42, 45, 57, 137, 140, 148, 229 repetitio, 140, 143, 144 rhetor/rhetorica, 31, 228-29, 230, 233-34 Roman Empire, 1, 13, 16, 20-22, 26, 28, 39, 46, 54, 154, 233 Rufinus, 22-23

Index sacraments, 62, 100-3, 138 sapiens/sage, 192, 195-97 Sasanian Empire, 16-17, 19 Satan (devil, diabolus), 124-25, 127, 129, 131-34, 194, 198, 237 Satyrus, 31-32, 34, 47-48, 93 serpent, 124, 127-29, 131-32, 134, 194 Sibyl, 125-26 societas, 9, 16, 205-8, 210-16, 219 Socrates, 17, 18, 23 Song of Songs, 7, 51, 90-105, 133, 202 Sozomen, 17, 22, 23, 51 Stephen, see martyr Stilicho, 30, 51 Stoicism, 93, 165, 185, 190-95, 197, 200, 203, 210 Sulpicius Severus, 22, 26, 70 Syagrius, 49-50, 70 Symmachus, Quintus Aurelius Memmius, 18, 25, 31-32, 37, 48-49, 55, 70, 159, 173, 229, 231-32, 234-35, 242 synagogue, 40, 42, 51, 70, 202 Tartarus, 125-27, 129 teacher, 8, 60, 106, 114-19, 177-79, 230-31, 234-35 temptation, 82, 108, 199, 237 Theodoret of Cyrrhus, 15, 237 Theodosius, 14-19, 22-26, 28-30, 36-37, 40-42, 48, 51-53, 93 Thessalonica, 14-15, 17-18, 34, 38, 41-43 transfiguration, 134, 143, 152, 154 Trier, 22, 30, 33, 43, 154 trinity, 62, 138, 141, 185, 200, 204 Uranius, 32-34 utile/utilitas, 52, 209, 211-13 Valentinian I, 18, 20, 23, 25, 29, 42, 153 Valentinian II, 17-18, 22-23, 26, 39, 48, 52, 77-78, 90, 93

Ambrose of Milan and Community Formation in Late Antiquity veritas/verus, 172-73, 178-79 Vienne, 21-23 Virgil, 120-21, 124, 126-29, 131-34 virgin (virginity), 7, 35, 42, 50, 5863, 65, 69, 71-73, 75, 93-94 virtues, 8-9, 38, 54, 56, 63-65, 7172, 75, 80-81, 83, 86-87, 110, 119, 130, 142, 166-67, 169-71, 176, 178-79, 188, 193, 195, 205-9, 211, 217, 230-32

269

visuality, 151-52, 154 Vitruvius, 153, 157, 159, 167-68 Word of God, 69, 96, 98-99, 107, 111, 117-19, 140 Zeno of Verona, 34, 69, 192 Zeuxis, 155-57, 163, 167 Zosimus, 17, 22-23, 25