Early Christian Historiography: Narratives of Retribution [Reprint ed.] 1845531884, 9781845531881

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EARLY CHRISTIAN HISTORIOGRAPHY

EARLY CHRISTIAN HISTORIOGRAPHY NARRATIVES OF RETRIBUTION

G.W. Trompf

~ l Routledge ~~

Taylor & Francis Group

LONDON AND NEW YORK

First published 2000 by Continuum This paperback edition published in 2007 by Equinox Publishing Ltd., an imprint of Acumen by arrangement with Continuum International Publishing Group Ltd. Published 2014 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017, USA

Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business ©G. W. Trompf2000 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Notices Practitioners and researchers must always rely on their own experience and knowledge in evaluating and using any information, methods, compounds, or experiments described herein. In using such information or methods they should be mindful oftheir own safety and the safety of others, including parties for whom they have a professional responsibility. To the fullest extent ofthe law, neither the Publisher nor the authors, contributors, or editors, assume any liability for any injury and/or damage to persons or property as a matter of products liability, negligence or otherwise, or from any use or operation of any methods, products, instructions, or ideas contained in the material herein.

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN- I 3 978 I 84553 188 I Paperback Typeset by SetSystems Ltd, Saffron Walden, Essex.

Contents

Preface Abbreviations

Part 1 Bases and beginnings 1 Backdrop: retributive principles in traditional societies and ancient historiography 2

The first Christian historian: Luke and his two books

3

Part 2 Centrepiece: the Eusebian achievement Towards historical triumphalism: Eusebius, Lactantius and their predecessors

ix Xlll

1

3

47 107 109

4

The man in the middle: Rufinus of Aquileia between East and West

158

Part 3 The Byzantine East

185

5

Church history as nonconformism: retributive and eschatological elements in Athanasius and Philostorgius

187

6

The golden chain of Byzantinism: the Tripartite ecclesiastical histories of Socrates, Sozomen and Theodoret

213

Part 4 The Latin West History as theodicy: Augustine's De civitate Dei

253 255

Consolations of history under the declining Western empire: Sulpicius and Orosius

283

Aftermath

323

Select bibliography

342

Index

345

7 8

Pray you now, forget and forgive. William Shakespeare, King Lear, IV, vii

Preface

It was one of the chief tasks of ancient historians - whether Semitic, Greek,

Latin or even Chinese - to defend collective preconceptual outlooks on the world, and especially to maintain that the course of human affairs reflected a 'moral order'. Early Christian historiographers accepted this same role by demonstrating history's providential governance in connection with the Church as the new people of God. With this outlook they adapted yet transformed both the Hebrew and Graeco-Roman heritages of historywriting: the cosmic specialness of Christ's ekklesia substituted for Israel's chosenness, and the message and values of the Church became the means by which the achievements and weaknesses of empire were to be judged. In this volume I examine these processes by focusing on the way Christian writers saw God's rewards and punishments instanced in events. It is a book about notions of retribution, and the perceived logic of their relationship to past events deemed worthy of narration. It assesses degrees of concern in the first history-writers of the world's most widespread monotheistic tradition to discern divine justice in human affairs. What actually or probably happened according to ancient Christian records will bear rather less attention in this book than assessing how historiographers, and those influencing them, 'constructed' or 'constituted' reality. The mentalites of early Christian history-writers, their explanatory frames of reference, their meaning-building, even certain developing ideologies, will be the primary subject-matter. Insofar as all these elements will be rendered intelligible they also form important data from the distant past, but in the chapters following it will be the history of historiographers' ideas, prejudgemental attitudes and (often sub-textual) 'mind-sets' that will be being documented, not the actualities they purported to describe. The transformations under consideration are conceptual, hermeneutical, sometimes doctrinal, and all just asking for treatment. This is thus a doggedly exegetical study, designed to probe and get behind texts rather than to regurgitate facts. Beginning with a theoretical and anthropological introduction to 'the logic of retribution', to tap thoughtmodes generating the need to record outcomes in human affairs as 'just' or

x

Preface

'merited', I sketch the developing application of retributive principles in historical narratives before Christ. The hermeneutical analysis then takes the readers steadily from the New Testament evangelist Luke (whom I consider the first Christian historian) to Theodoret of Cyrrhus in the Eastern Roman Empire and 'Paulus' Orosius in the West. The important memorials of Hegesippus, Arnobius, Eusebius, Lactantius, Athanasius, Rufinus, Augustine, Sulpicius, Philostorgius, Socrates and Sozomen are each considered along the way, and the story of the accounts is then taken on to the emergence of Islam. The intention is to create a cumulative effect, or to discover the various dimensions of retributive thinking as we proceed, rather than simply re-perceiving 'the same thing' in different historiographical works. Our attentions will certainly have much to do with continuity, with understanding a traditional habit of the historical mind, but still more with interpretative challenges facing different individual minds in different contexts, including impulses to reject certain retributive modes of explicating events. The book has been brought together from prefabricated building-blocks. The theoretical introduction abbreviates an article in Religioni e Societa, 28 December (1997): 48-72. The rest of the background chapter arises from arguments in J. Emerton (ed.), Studies in the Historical Books of the Old Testament, Leiden, 1979; in M. Blackman, F. Muecke and M. Sankey (eds), The Textual Condition: Rhetoric and Editing, Sydney, 1995; and in my book The Idea of Historical Recurrence in Western Thought, Berkeley and London, 1979, vol. 1. Chapter 2 is almost entirely new, but involves snippets from contributions to Revue d'histoire et de philosophie religieuses, 5312 ( 1973 ): 141-54; to Harvard Theological Review, 69/3-4 (1976): 259-67 (with G. B. Miles); and to C. H. Talbert (ed.), Luke-Acts: New Perspectives from the Society of Biblical Literature Seminar, New York, 1984. Chapter 3 derives largely from a piece in B. Croke and A.M. Emmet-Nobbs (eds), History and Historians in Late Antiquity, Sydney, Oxford and New York, 1983; and Chapter 4 from The Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 43/3 (1992): 351-71. Chapter 6 develops articles in L. Garland (ed.), Conformity and Nonconformity in Byzantium, Amsterdam, 1996: 11-33; and Phronema, 9 {1994): 19-36 (pt 1). 23-38 (pt 2). Chapter 7 slightly expands work in G. Clarke et al. (eds), Reading the Past in Late Antiquity, Sydney and Oxford, 1990; while Chapter 8 basically reproduces contributions to the Augustinianum's Cristianesimo e specijicita regionali nel Mediterraneo Latino (Sec. IV-VI), Rome, 1994; and to G. W. Trompf and G. Hamel (eds), The World of Religions, New Delhi, 2000. The concluding sections are entirely new, although at the end I defer briefly to arguments in Studies in World Christianity, 4/1 (1998): 65-83. For encouragement over recent years, I wish to extend my gratitude to Professor Peter Brown (Princeton), and over the long term to Professor Noel King (University of California). For help with discussion over specific matters

Preface

x1

of debate along the way, I express thanks to Professor Peter Ackroyd (University of London), Dr Katherine Adshead (University of Canterbury), Professors Pauline Allen (Catholic University of Australia), Robert Banks (Fuller), Timothy Barnes (Toronto), Angelo di Berardino (Rome), Averil Cameron (Oxford), [the late] Amos Funkenstein (Jerusalem and California), [the late] R[ichard]. P. C. Hanson (Manchester), Edwin Judge (Macquarie), David Ladouceur (Notre Dame), Joseph Lienhard (Fordham), John MacIntyre and James Mackey (Edinburgh), Raoul Mortley (Bond), Alanna Nobbs (Macquarie), Gilles Quispel (Utrecht), Dr Ronald Ridley (Melbourne), Professors Philip Rousseau (Wellington), Krister Stendahl (then Harvard), Emile Trocme (Strasbourg) and Dr Garth Thomas (Consultant for Gnostica, London). Many of my colleagues and research associates at Sydney - Professors Eric Sharpe and James Tulip; [the late] Dr Bill Jobling, Ms Ruth Lewin, Drs Carole Cusack, William Emilsen, Dean Philip Esler (now at St Andrews), Dr Moira O'Sullivan and John Squires, together with Professors Rifaat Ebied, Dexter Hoyos and Godfrey Tanner, Drs Peter Brennan, Guy Freeland, Bill Leadbetter and Lynette Olson, Mss Leonie Hayne and Frances Muecke have always been gracious in lending me materials, alerting me to new publications, or in chasing the odd reference. Gratitude must also be extended to the helpful custodians of libraries, especially to those of the Augustinianum and the Vatican, Bodleian, British Museum, New College (Edinburgh), Dumbarton Oaks, Fisher, Gillespie and Moore collections. Completing this particular opus also affords me the one opportunity I might have in my career to thank all my remarkable teachers in Biblical and Patristic Studies at Oxford, especially the Revd Professors George Caird, Henry Chadwick, [the late] Frank Leslie Cross and Christopher Stead. My research assistants Raw Ferm1ndez-Calienes and Jeremy Thomas kept renewing my incentives; and without the typing of Michelle Holmes, Lyn Leslie, and especially Judith Lauder, no presentable manuscript would have been forthcoming. Miss Fiona McKenzie was very helpful with the copy-editing, which was generously funded by the Macartney Hill Bequest. Once again my wife Robyn and family have more than tolerated my scholarly antics; and because of her life-long interest in Biblical and doctrinal matters, with my subject-matter bearing on the most basic principles of socialization in a Christian ambience, I dedicate this book to my mother. G. W. Trompf Feast-day of Symeon Stylites the Younger, 1998

Abbreviations

AA AARSR AB AbSa AC AGRL AHDLMA AHR AJBI AJP AJPH AJS Akk AKPAW AnBibl An Boll ANCL ANET An Greg Ant Antiq ANTJ ANYAS ARCA ARID AS ASOR ASPACL

ASS Ath

Acta Archaeologica American Academy of Religion: Studies in Religion The Anchor Bible Abba Salama Acta Classica Aspects of Greek and Roman Life Archeologie, histoire, doctrines et litterature du Moyen Age American Historical Review Annual of the Japanese Biblical Institute American Journal of Philology Australian Journal of Politics and History American Journal of Sociology Akkadica Abhandlungen der Koniglichen Preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften Analecta Biblica Analecta Bollandiana Ante-Nicene Christian Library Ancient Near Eastern Texts (ed. J. B. Pritchard) (1969 edn) Analecta Gregoriana Antichthon Antiquity Arbeiten zum Neuen Testament und Judentum Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences ARCA: Classical and Medieval Texts, Papers and Monographs Analecta Romana Instituti Danici Anatolian Studies American School of Oriental Research Australian and South Pacific Association for Comparative Literary Studies All Souls Studies Athenaeum

x1v

Abbreviations

Aug AUM AUT AUU BA BAB BALAC BASOR BB BF BFCT BGBE BHR Bib BiOr BJHP BJS BM BMes BS BSCRT BSR BSSR BThB Byz ByzAus BZ BzA BZAW CA CAH CB CBHB CBQ CCR CCSL CEA CeM CFHB CH CHFMA CJA CMH

Augustinianum Andrews University Monographs Annales Universitatis Turkuensis Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis: Studia Biblica Upsaliensia The Biblical Archaeologist Bulletin de la Classe des Lettres de l'Academie Royale de Belgique Bulletin d' ancienne litterature et d'archeologie chretiennes Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Biblische Beitriige (Schweizerischen katholischen Bibelbewegung) Byzantinische Forschung Beitriige zur Forderung christlicher Theologie Beitriige zur Geschichte der biblischen Exegese Biblica Helvetica Romana Biblica Bibliotheca Orientalis British Journal for the History of Philosophy Brown Judaic Studies British Museum

Bibliotheca Mesopotamica Bellarmine Series Bibliotheca scriptorum Graecorum et Romanorum Teubneriana Biblioteca di scienze religiose Bollettino di studi storico-religiosi Bulletin de theologie biblique/Biblical Theology Bulletin Byzantion Byzantina Australiensia Byzantische Zeitschrift Beitriige zur Altertumswissenschaft Beihefte zur Zeitschrift fur alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Classical Antiquity Cambridge Ancient History (ed. J. B. Bury et al.) Coniectanea Biblica Corpus Bruxellense historiae Byzantinae Catholic Biblical Quarterly Coptic Church Review Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina Collection d'etudes anciennes Classica et Mediaevalia Corpus fontium historiae Byzantinae Church History Les classiques de l'histoire de France au Moyen Age Christianity and Judaism in Antiquity Cambridge Mediaeval History (ed. J. R. Tanner et al.)

Abbreviations CMT CN

co

Conv CP

CQ CQR

CRINT

csco

CSEL CSHB CSSH CT CTM CUASMH CUF

CUOP

cuos

DCB DHGE

DNNT

DO PIS

DTC EA EC ECC EEC EFH EHS EM ESH Evid

EvQ

FAS FBES FGH FRLANT

FTS GCS

Gnom

xv

Classical and Medieval Texts, Papers and Monographs Collection noesis Commentationes Orientales Convivium Classical Philology Classical Quarterly Church Quarterly Review Compendium rerum Iudaicarum ad Novum Testamentum Corpus scriptorum Christianorum orientalium Corpus scriptorum ecclesiasticorum latinorum Corpus scriptorum historiae Byzantinae Comparative Studies in Society and History Church and Theology Concordia Theological Monthly The Catholic University of America Studies in Medieval History Collection des universites de France Cambridge University Oriental Publications Columbia University Oriental Studies Dictionary of Christian Biography (ed. W. Smith and H. Wace) Dictionnaire d'histoire et de geographie ecclesiastiques (ed. A. Baudrillart et al.) The New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology (ed. C. Brown)

Dumbarton Oaks Papers/Studies Dictionnaire de theologie catholique (ed. A. Vacant et al.) Etudes augustiniennes Etudes et commentaires Enciclopedia Cattolica (ed. P. Paschini et al.) Encyclopedia of the Early Church (ed. A. di Berardino) Entretiens de la Fondation Hardt Ecclesiastical History Society, Papers Eichstittter Materialen: Abteilung Philosophie und Theologie Exeter Studies in History Evidences Evangelical Quarterly Frankfurter althistorische Studien Forschungen und Berichte der evangelischen Studiengemeinschaft Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker (ed. F. Jacoby) Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments Freiburger theologische Studien Griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller Gnomon

xvi

Abbreviations

Gnos GR GRBS Gym HA HDR Herm HHD HI Hist

HM

HNT HR HT HTC HTh IAHI IB IDB

IEJ

IF IGSK Ir IRT JA JAOS JAS JBL JECS

JJS

JKP JNES JOB JRS JSNT JSOT JTS KEKNT KEPK

KF

Gnostica: Texts and Interpretations Greece and Rome Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies Gymnasium Handbuch der Altertumswissenschaft Harvard Dissertations in Religion Hermes Herder History of Dogma Hamdard Islamicus Historia Historisk-filosofiske Meddelelser: Det Kongelige Danske Videnskabernes Selskab Handbuch zum Neuen Testament History of Religions History Today Harvard Theological Review History and Theory International Archives of the History of Ideas The Interpreter's Bible (gen. ed. G. A. Buttrick) The Interpreter's Dictionary of the Bible (ed. G. A. Buttrick et al.) Israel Exploration journal Impulse der Forschung Inschriften griechischer Stadte aus Kleinasien (ed. E. Schwertheim)

Iraq Issues in Religion and Theology journal Asiatique Journal of the American Oriental Society journal of Ancient Studies journal of Biblical Literature journal of Early Christian Studies journal of jewish Studies jahrbuch fur Klassische Philologie journal of Near Eastern Studies jahrbuch der bsterreichischen Byzantinistik journal of Roman Studies journal for the Study of the New Testament journal for the Study of the Old Testament journal of Theological Studies Kritisch-exegetischer Kommentar uber das Neue Testament Kulunlenyomat az Egyetemes Philologiai Kozolny Kleinasiatische Forschungen

Abbreviations KP KPS KSU La LASI LCL LEC LHS LSS LUA LXX MAOG MBPAR

XVII

Der kleine Pauly, see RECA Klassisch-philosophische Studien Kulturgeschichte Studien zur Uberlieferung der antiken Literatur La tom us Library of Ancient Semitic Inscriptions Loeb Classical Library Library of Early Christianity Library of History and Doctrine Leipziger Semitische Studien Lunds Universitets Arskrift

Septuagint

Mitteilungen der altorientalischen Gesellschaft Munchner Beitriige zur Papyrusforschung und antiken Rechtsgeschichte McGill Studies in Religion Mesopotamia Monumenta Germaniae Historica Melbourne Historical Journal Melanges de sciences religieuses

McGSR Mes MGH MHJ MSR MT Mus NGWG NIGTC NMS NovTest NPNF

Le Museon Nachrichten der Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Gattingen New International Greek Testament Commentary Nottingham Mediaeval Studies Novum Testamentum Select Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers (ed. P. Schaff and

NT NTD NTL NTS OA OCD

Das Neue Testament deutsch New Testament Library New Testament Studies Orbis Academicus Oxford Classical Dictionary (ed. N. G. L. Hammond and

OChA OCM ODB OECT OG OGIS OLA OM Or

Orientalia Christiana Analecta Oxford Classical Monographs Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium (ed. A. P. Kazhdan et al.) Oxford Early Christian Texts Opuscula Graecolatina Orientis Graeci Inscriptiones Selectae (ed. W. Dittenberger) Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta Oriental Monographs Orientalia

Masoretic Text (Hebrew Bible)

H. Wace) New Testament

H. H. Scullard) (1970 edn)

:X:Vlll

Abbreviations

OS OTL PA PaM PAPS PAS PdO PG PGC Phoen PL PM PNTC PO PRS PSS PTM PTS QS REAug RECA REG ReiSoc RHPhR RHR RM ROC RSI RT RThPh RUO SARAS SBA SBEC SBLMS SBT

sc

SCL SCSML SCWH

Oudtestamentische Studien Old Testament Library Philosophia antiqua Patristic Monograph Series Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society Pontificium Athenaeum Salesianum Parole de l'Orient Patrologiae cursus completus; series Graeca (ed. J. P. Migne) Pelican Gospel Commentaries Phoenix Patrologiae cursus completus: series Latina (ed. J. P. Migne) Philological Monographs Published by the American Philological Association Pelican New Testament Commentaries Patrologia Orientalis (ed. R. Griffin, F. Nau et al.) Perspectives in Religious Studies Philosophy of the Social Sciences Pittsburgh Theological Monograph Series Patristische Texte und Studien Quaderni di storia Revue des etudes augustiniennes Pauly's Realencyclopadie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft (rev. ed. G. Wissowa)

Revue des Etudes Grecques Religion and Society Revue d'histoire et de philosophie religieuses Revue de l'histoire des religions Die Religionen der Menschheit Revue de ['Orient Chretien Rivista Storica Italiana Religious Traditions Revue de theologie et de philosophie Revue de l'universite d'Ottawa /University of Ottawa Quarterly School of American Research Advanced Seminar Series Studies in Biblical Archaeology Studies in the Bible and Early Christianity Society for Biblical Literature Monograph Series Studies in Biblical Theology Sources Chretiennes Spicilegium sacrum Lovaniense, etudes et documents Smith College Studies in Modern Languages Studies in Comparative World History

Abbreviations

SEA

SEER

SGLG SGOE SH SHR

SJLA SL

SNTSM Sp SPB Spec SPIFC SPT SR

SRP

ss

SSR SSRC SSSH StS StTh SUNT SWR TB TBA TCM TCS TD TDB TEB TF TH ThB ThZ

TL

TNTC

TPAPA

TQ

Trad TTH

Studia Ephemeridis Augustinianum Slavonic and Eastern European Review Studia Graeca et Latina Gothoburgensis Schriften zur Geistesgeschichte des ostlichen Europa Subsidia hagiographica Studies in the History of Religions (Supplements to Numen) Studies in Judaism in Late Antiquity Storia e letteratura Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series Spudasmata Studia post-Biblica Speculum Studi publicati dall'Istituto di Filologia Classica Studies in Patristic Thought Saggi e ricerche Schriften zur Rechtslehre und Politik Storia della Storiografia Sydney Studies in Religion Sydney Studies in Society and Culture Sociological Studies in Roman History Studi storici Studia Theologica Studien zum Umwelt des Neuen Testaments Studies in World Religions Tyndale Bulletin Tubinger Beitriige zur Altertumswissenschaft The Transformation of the Classical Heritage Texts from Cuneiform Sources Theology Digest Theological Dictionary of the Bible (trans. and ed. G. W. Bromley)

Traite d'etudes Byzantines Texte zur Forschung Theologie historique Theologische Bucherei Theologische Zeitschrift The Thinker's Library Tyndale New Testament Commentaries Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association Theologische Quartalschrift Traditio Translated Texts for Historians

xtx

xx

Abbreviations

TU TUAT UAMP UCPCS UF UMP UPIL UPM UTR UUA VD VigChr VP VT WMANT

ws

YOS

ZA ZAW ZdPV ZKG ZthK

Texte und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur Texte aus der Umwelt des Alten Testaments Uniwersytet im Adama Mickiewicza w Poznaniu: serie filologia klasyczna University of California Publications, Classical Studies Ugarit-Forschungen Universite de Montreal publication de l'Institut d'Etudes Medievales Universita degli Studi di Parma Istituto di Lingua e Letteratura Latina University of Pennsylvania Museum Utrechts Theologische Reeks Uppsala Universitets Arskrift Verbum Domini Vigiliae Christianae Vita e pensiero (pubblicazione dell'Universita del Sacra Cuore, contributi dell'Istituto di Storia Antica) Vetus Testamentum Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testaments Wiener Studien. Zeitschrift fur Klassische Philologie und Patristik Yale Oriental Series Zeitschrift fur Assyriologie Zeitschrift fur alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Zeitschrift des deutschen Paliistina-Vereins Zeitschrift fur Kirchengeschichte Zeitschrift fur Theologie und Kirche

In loving memory of my mother Irene Catherine Mildred Trompf 1914-1996 AD PRAEVIAM SUPERNAE VOCATIONIS

PART 1

Bases and beginnings

1

Backdrop: retributive principles in traditional societies and ancient historiography

History is philosophy teaching by examples. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Antiquitates Romae

The logic of retribution is quite perceivable as a configuration of human action and reflection. It becomes a discoverable object of investigation when we ask of others why they 'pay back' their fellow human beings by acting antipathetically, and why, conversely, they may instead behave with concession, generosity and forbearance. The questions we put to others might just as well be used for our own introspection. Almost invariably, it soon becomes obvious that humans can give reasons why expressions of animosity or friendliness have been uttered or enacted. Perhaps we will wonder whether these reasons are ill-founded, or 'properly' -stated, or plainly ex post facto rationalizations; perhaps we will doubt whether the reasons would be brought to someone's consciousness if we had not pressed them with the question 'Why did you do it?' That reasons are given at all, though, and so ubiquitously, is the rationale itself for analysing a logic or logics of paying back other people, whether negatively or positively. The discourse of requital or retribution itself is almost inevitably ostensive in character - we can usually only listen to communicated reasons for acting (or to the thoughts arising in our own consciousness when we account for our own behaviour). The real reasons for our deeds one way or the other may not be known to us, lying embedded in the unconscious. But the remarkable phenomenology of retributive logic - the constant attempts to explain, justify and rationalize requital - take up a sizeable part of human language and communication. We wage war and make peace, destroy and build, avenge and play host, punish and reward, condemn and commend, vilify and edify, take and give, accuse or apologize, prohibit or permit, all the while telling or being able to tell why. A vast field of mental constructions encloses us, awaiting the careful traversing of scholars. The realm of relevant notions looms vaster when realizing that our own or others' personal reasons for requiting are not the only ones that apply to

4

Early Christian historiography

it. A host of day-by-day events draw social responses from us in terms of praise and blame. How prevalent is the human recognition that, after an illchosen, unwelcome course of action, some people 'get what they deserve'! The whole world, it seems - extraordinarily enough - holds that significant outcomes in human affairs imply a 'because'. How characteristic is it of human societies that there are reasons why a certain group runs into trouble, or an individual falls ill and dies, or per contra some great 'blessing' is felt. Collective and consensus bodies of retributive explanation thus openly invite consideration. Now people do not ascribe all outcomes of events to human intention; in some effects they might perceive the finger of the divine, or the workings of luck, or the forces of nature. A relatively more reflective and distanced assessment of what is going on may result, yet still the logic of retribution pertains, and more so, because a wider-than-usual selection of causal possibilities is now brought to bear on the 'appearances' of events. Any group repertoire and the assumptions behind it could be criticized as inadequate - a David Hume objecting that non-empirical causes have been invoked, or a neo-Positivist lamenting the shelving of verification principles. Such charges can never wish away the realities of that great arena of cultureaffected ideas in which logics of retribution are pandemic, and although philosophies have been framed to address them, the aetiologies are mediated more through shared tradition than independent reasoning.

Retributive logic as product of culture and religion: from traditional societies to large polities Reasons behind acts of requital are cultural products, and it behoves anthropologists engaged in cross-cultural and comparative research to differentiate one profile or eidos of retributive logic from another. In most traditional small-scale or tribal societies, for instance, revenge raiding and warfare is highly typical, and with group pitted against group praise falls on those who (sometimes even indiscriminately) kill any of the enemy on opportune occasions - as it will on those who show hospitality and give lavishly to friends and allies. The logic involved is most often connected with prestige, which accrues to those who give their all both in bravery and productivity. The pursuit of revenge wells up from the tribal need to assuage the loss of blood, while reciprocity is grounded in a complex of obligations that a 'security circle' is committed to uphold. 1 Typically, such a band, or tribal or village society, possessed a range of prohibitions instilled for the sake of group security. Young initiates were warned to uphold them on pain of dire consequences, and breaking such

Backdrop: retributive principles

5

taboos often brought into play a regimen of severe physical punishments. This is the subject-matter of legal anthropology and comparative morality. The phenomena of shaming and guilt, demands for honour, the avoidance of bad feeling, caution between genders, and the pressure to fulfil obligations with kin and trading partners, are all consciously-perceived conditions gauged for oneself and others in traditional societies and impelling behavioural adjustments. 2 Accompanying the calculated logic behind acts of requital, and legal and moral sanctions, is also that surprisingly universal if neglected manifestation of reflective thought in the so-called 'primitive world' - a body of consensus explanations or explanatory principles by which significant events (especially trouble, sickness and death, and the blessings which are their opposites) are placed in the spirit-influenced scheme of things. A death through disease which a secular-minded Westerner might otherwise put down to germs may instead be ascribed to the contrivances and dark mysteries of sorcery, to the potency of a father's (or perhaps a mother-in-law's) curse, to some local god onto whose domain the victim has unwittingly trespassed, to ghosts or gods in punishment for some evil deed that human arbitrators have not been able to uncover, or to pollution through coming into contact with a woman's menstrual blood or with a corpse; and so on. In the operational modes of this folk logic, the disasters and triumphs of the whole community, and sharp environmental shifts - involving the devastations of droughts and earthquakes or the surprising bounty of the Earth's most fruitful yields- can be attributed to appropriate agencies and spiritual forces in the web of cosmic give-and-take. Honouring the traditions is seen to bring benison, while errors, weakness or carelessness in the performance or timing of ritual make for disaster - and the wise and the good are those who see the difference and comprehend what goes on in the changing circumstances of life. 3 In tribal and small-scale societies, it will now be obvious, retributive logic is an expression of religion, insofar as the term 'religion' denotes lifestyles that are also in effect expressions of a 'culture'. 4 Put more precisely, the logic of retribution, as a structuring principle of action and thought, reinforces activities and Weltanschauungen that assume the constant involvement of cosmically-significant agencies in the give-and-take of life. What most people in the West might deem mundane - the economic and the military - are indices in some societies of ongoing relationships that include spirit-beings. The tribal language of war, barter and belief run together to indicate both why one should act and what are the factors behind change. 5 When rituals are enacted, they epitomize this broader ethos in outward forms which moderns readily perceive as particularly religious. These rituals entail reciprocity between humans and non-humans, cult sacrifice actualizing the logic

6

Early Christian historiography

of retribution most explicitly because something is given to the spirit-powers in order that something - security, health, prosperity, blessing - be received by the sacrificers. Dant ut dent. These patterns apply to ancient small-scale societies insofar as they are reconstructable both from surviving records of larger polities and from cultures more recently studied by anthropologists and other observers. But we find that with the development of larger unities - amphictyonies, kingdoms, sovereign states and empires - the circles of security are greatly extended. In these both military loyalty and sense of reciprocal obligation are now expected to apply beyond the limits of one tribe. Enthusiasm for manslaughter and raiding against neighbouring groups must needs be curtailed, although a new consciousness about some 'common enemy' almost invariably arises. As Bryce's apt if old-fashioned maxim about the orientation of 'civilized countries' has it: Although every individual man is now under law and not in a State of Nature, every political community, whatever its form, be it republican or monarchical, is in a State of Nature towards every other community.6 Empires conquer by defeating outsiders, usually on the pretext that bordering groups merit punishment for being troublesome or pursuing an unworthy way of life. 'Legitimate reasons' for conquest or inter-imperial conflict apply that 'geometric rigour' of requital which, according to all extant epics composed at the interface between the tribal and the civilized, 'operates automatically to penalize the [perceived] abuse of force' by enemies. 7 The perennially resurgent heroic mentality reappropriates the otherwise potentially barbaric principle of payback as a national virtue, a principle now acted out by members and recruits of armies rather than by most able-bodied men of a tribe. Within larger unities (from city-states to empires), however, the primal stereotypes of the enemy as 'outsider' are seriously undermined. Life holds less certainty when, in the complex relations of urban life, one's neighbours behave inimically, or when - as the ancient Greek Theognis lamented - it now becomes too easy for one to deceive a friend while still remaining hard to trick an enemy (exBf.J6~, as outsider) (Eleg., 1219-20). The processes of transition from the tribus to the unitas so affect consciousness that words for 'enemy' and 'the objects of revenge' will now have to be carefully read in context to see whether they apply to distant or close relations or both. Inside a newly-emergent political society, naturally enough, pressures will be at work to do away with 'wild justice', such that previously disparate groups are held together with more detailed legal codifications of penalties and fines. Enemies inevitably fall into two sorts, however, and along with joy over defeating external foes by the country's army, allowance has now to be made for gloating over 'sweet revenge' on enemies within the community, when

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rivals suffer misfortunes or an adversary loses out at court (e.g. Aristotle, Rhet., 1370b; Aeschines, Orat., ii, 182-3). Some incidents occur, also, such as adultery, for which 'no compensation but only revenge seem sufficient' (Prov 6:34-35), while new fears of all-too-close sorcery and sexual dangers arise. 8 The widened horizons of poleis, kingdoms and empires, however, do indeed enhance the possibility of 'more universal' principles of law, and the wider acceptance of them. As in the paradigmatic case of Rome, immediate, direct, severe, even brutal impositions of punishment did indeed slowly recede before the emergence of more humane abstract principles of equity and justice. The indiscriminate revenge of tribal feuding gives way to juridical disciplining of particular culprits, and the lex talionis - the putative exaction of retributive equivalence: 'an eye for eye' (Exod 21 :24) - is indicative of the transitions involved, as are shifts towards an appreciation of common humanity. 9 In all realism, though, the rulers, governing bodies and lawenforcers of history have shown a recurrent capacity for totalitarian impositions and 'savage' torture in spite of declared humanitarian principles. 10 And political retribution usually falls on those deemed to threaten the unity or survival of the impressive post-tribalist structures: on the 'internal enemies' - domestici hostes in Cicero's words (Pro Sest., ii, 11)- who subvert internal social stability and become criminalized, and on various kinds of protest movements, regional or marginal, armed or unarmed, political or religious. In their turn group opponents of a disliked regime commonly claim that its former legitimizing policies are outworn -that the 'mandate' (ming, as the renowned Chinese dictum has it) has been lost.ll Religious beliefs and practices have been powerful tools of socio-political conservation, especially when what I have dubbed 'the perennial religion' is elevated to a super-tribal significance. This is the religion - very much a religio - that celebrates the victory of its warriors and the fecundity of its fields, and is ideal for an expanding military regime, confirming that the gods reward the now more centralized rituals and larger-scale sacrifices with success and give sanction to punish those who stand opposed to the divinelybacked forces that are achieving territorial growth. 12 This is the most persistent theme of religion throughout all history- the appeal of a colourful, socially cohesive connection to the spirit world to indulge the unassailed post-tribal muscles of social control. Conspicuously momentous in the history of consciousness are those times when abstract theories of retributive principles come to be proclaimed and to secure influence - when a Goshala sees the whole universe as a complex interplay of ineluctable forces called karma, or a Heraclitus can borrow from military discourse so as to conceive the cosmos as a vast arena of E(Jt~ (conflict). Still more important are those spiritual exposures of the 'perennial religion' as complacent or defrauding (as with Zarathustra,

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Mahavira and the Buddha, the Biblical prophets, Jesus, and Muhammad, who all sense the pointlessness of grand physical sacrifices beside their more spiritualized messages of social peace and salvation). And to persuade people that more cfnJ..la (friendship) was needed in the world (Socrates), more reciprocity (shu) and humaneness (jen) (Confucius), more compassion (metta) (the Buddha), more love (19Q/dydn1J) (Jesus) was significant enough in eventually mitigating strident legalisms and humanizing relations. To think through the motives and self-serving rationale was as important, if not more far-reaching psychologically. 'The true giver of a gift does not think of the return' is a surprising fragment from Democritus (Frg. 68B96). Non-attachment to expected prizes or kudos is a preferred Buddhist scriptural insight for earning merit (e.g., Tanha Vagg, xix, 352; cf. Bhagavad Gita, V). And Jesus, of course, is renowned for his irony about those who 'truly have their rewards already', for his injunction to love even our enemies, and for the unnerving suggestion that our homes should be open to people who are in no position to invite us back (Matt, 5:43-44; 6:2, 5; Luke 14:14, 23-24)Y In the complex interactions between the perennial and these spiritualizing tendencies, very interesting permutations arise in reflective thought about requital. Pointed questioning is expressed from time to time over why troubles still occur even after public rites or moral codes have been scrupulously observed. Some famous laments in the ancient Chinese Book of Odes (Shih Ching) (eighth-seventh centuries BeE) were given voice about this kind of dilemma, and it is one guaranteed to strain the ablest minds engaged in that famous reflective mode we have called 'theodicy' (literally 'a justifying of the divine [ways to humans]') since its coinage by Leibniz. Complaints like those in the Odes were met by Chinese philosophers in different ways, and not the least significant among the logical loopholes adduced by the great Confucius was that the justness of Heaven will manifest itself in time (rather than 'in mechanical immediacy'). The renowned book of Job wrestles with a comparable problem, its protagonist being struck down by 'unmerited' sickness and disaster. The work's poetic kernel leaves matters unresolved, with Job's protestations of innocence tantalizing his visitors and the readers, although the prose ending has Job restored to health and good fortune in a denouement reflecting Jewish normative retributive logic - since the righteous deserve their reward in this life. 14 Another converse difficulty traditionally addressed by theodicy is the apparent 'prospering of the wicked' (cf. e.g., Ps 94:3; Jer 12:1) which was claimed to be 'satisfied' by appeals to time, or by the unpleasant nature of an evildoer's death, or even by appeals that a life of virtue ( dQer'l)) is still to be preferred to being among the 'evil ones' (xauol) (Theognis, 315-18; cf. 101-4). Post-mortem judgements of dead souls (earliest with the Egyptians), some kind of hell (as in Zoroastrian imaging, in Diistiin-i-Menok-i

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Krat), or a metempsychosis into a lower life-form (according to some

Brahmanic teachings, Brihad. Upan., VI, ii, 15) are other projected situations of appropriate, resolving retribution. In the New Testament, Paul strikingly encapsulated both the this- and the other-worldly dimensions of retributive expectations in his profound aphorism: 'we reap what we sow' (Gal 6:7; cf. Job 4:8b)Y In the interactions between traditional and more complex socio-political forms, many fascinating, research-worthy sides to the history of thought manifest themselves. Archaic principles of honour have lingered down to quite recent times - evinced in European duelling and Samurai mentalities, or in certain acts of suicide. The loss of primal 'egalitarian' reciprocities has stirred up many an anti-plutocratic reformer, from Urukagina the ancient Sumerian to Karl Marx the modern Communist. And Hebrew ideals of preCanaanite and pre-urban purity, or Indo-European ones of a Golden Age, have long served to explain why current generations are undeserving or as base as iron. 16 Conflicts between old and new values have had to be addressed and resolved by modifications or compromise. Sophocles sensed the disappearance of the old straightforwardness in allowing his Antigone to be caught between the sacred, long-inured obligation to bury one's kin (to avoid cosmic retribution) and the newer political duty to obey the king (to avoid decreed punishment). There came a time in late Republican Rome, to illustrate modifying effects, when the censorious voice of Cato the Elder against luxuria and the breakdown of old reciprocities was barely heeded in city life and a new 'social myth' came quickly to be accepted to the effect that rich merchants bring benefit and prestige to the polity (cf. Cicero, De Offic., iii, 7). Later on, after the earliest generations of Christians had eschewed involvement in military action, the 'Christianization of the empire' made it inevitable that both soldiering to check the barbarians and the following of the unarmed Christ of forgiveness could now mix. And so the complicated story goes onY As we have increasingly discovered, however, the logic of retribution cannot be reduced to outward and material processes of human transaction. It insinuates the psychological realm of interior and consensus reckoning, in personal structuring and communications between minds. In its interpretative mode, retributive logic additionally cannot be limited to a pre-scientific outlook, or regarded as pertaining to one set of human temperaments and not others, or as a reflection of emotions interfering with reason. Its tokens lie in a thousand different literary moods, nowhere more variously displayed than in the plots of creative writing. Drama feeds on evil, on the idea that some fault in the universe - some arrogance, excess, sacrilege and sin - must be rectified by a resolution of justice, or by Nemesis and 'the anger of Zeus', by the 'retribution, swift vengeance, eternal malice' of a Moby Dick, or by the rebellion of Nature herself. 18

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What, then, of historiography? That, with special reference to the foundations of the Christian tradition, is the subject of this book.

The historicization of retributive logic When the very first attempts to narrate history were made (in the Sumerian cities, c. 3000 BCE), the main purpose for writing at all was to record and sanction 'economic' agreements as the ancient Near and Middle Eastern societies became witness to increasingly complex exchange networks, money circulation and trade specializations. Bargaining and business dealings, significantly, had to be hedged about by oaths before priestly custodians of the gods, patent curses threatening those who failed to fulfil their obligations. 19 Over time, a procession of Mesopotamian and Egyptian rulers were also concerned to ensure in writing that their actions were favourable to the deities, and to this end inspecting the omens was a recurrent courtly preoccupation, priests thereby telling the future or accounting for environmental and political instabilities.20 Dynastic control was better assured by divinely sanctioned laws (as with the neo-Babylonian Code ofHammurabi), 'curse-power' against treaty-breaking and border violation (for which Hittite monarchs are famous), or ritual execration against military foes (by Egypt's Pharaohs). 21 History was first put down in this touchy world of written as well as enacted retributions. Even the earliest known (Sumerian and Egyptian) proverbs commend those who uphold their obligations and taunt nonreciprocators - virtually cursing sorcerers and other evildoers - and this is indicative of an ingrained common concern that affairs should work themselves out in a 'fitting' way. 22 Now the historicization of retributive logic is set in motion when significant events in human affairs are so narrated as to suggest that the key actors on the scene receive their just deserts. In surviving records before the time of the great narrative works of the Bible (i.e., c. 1000 BCE onwards), accounts of the human (usually political or dynastic) past that approximate to history-writing are typically short, lack interest in motives, and are oriented towards formulaic or ritualistic rather than ethical principles. If the omens boded well, for instance, a Babylonian king's rule was described as 'good'; if not, 'bad', as evidently decreed by the gods. 23 Some glimmerings there are, though, of a sense that outcomes are affected by conduct that is 'right' or 'wrong'. In relation to military incursions, territories affected could 'appeal to history' to show what the associated consequences had been for previous invaders. Were the Ummaites to cross Lagash's boundary-ditch yet again, runs a Sumerian inscription (c. 2400 BCE), they might once more expect their Supreme God Enlil's destructive punishment. 24 And with evidence of previ-

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ous successes, writers who celebrated rulers' victories could readily claim that the rulers were the gods' favourites or had the gods 'run before' their armies to exact vengeance on their foes (as with the Hittite Mursilis I), or that the god-king of Egypt, acting with Amon-Re's blessing, was 'the [sacred] Avenger' (Thutmose 111). 25 Long before Israel, then, various narrators possessed a sense of the divine as actively involved in their people's recent past, not just in mythical time (when great cosmic acts of requital - by Osiris, Marduk or Baal - put the world 'right'). 26 Though they were few and far between, a few writers genuinely did show an interest in documenting outcomes they believed to be merited. A later Sumerian epic poem entitled 'The Curse of Agade' (composed c. 2000 BCE) perhaps provides the earliest-known reflection on a major historical event in terms of a 'moral order'. The world's first great empirethat of Akkad (forged by Sargon the Great) -was brought to its knees by Gutian hordes from the mountains, and the poet finds a prime cause of this terrible irruption in the sacrilege of Naram-Sin, the most powerful of Sargon's successors. Naram-Sin had sacked the famed city of Nippur, desecrating the sanctuary of the great sky and storm god Enlil. It was in consequence of this that the local goddess forsook Agade, Naram-Sin's capital, over which she had been tutelary deity. Eight deities subsequently pronounce an elaborate curse on Agade - and in that the invading Guti are understood to fulfil its purpose, the poet thus appeals to a prevenient notion of retribution and was perhaps the first author 'to interpret a historical event in the framework of a currently-held world-view'. 27 Naram-Sin's main fault, admittedly, was a specific desecration, yet there remain sufficient hints in this important poem that his acts were generally presumptuous, while in other writings - favourable or unfavourable - his reign is evaluated in terms of his attention to omens. 28 Certainly the need for rulers to be on the side of the gods was all-important. Such attested concern of the gods with human actions could thus generate interpretative axioms. Sometimes these were conveyed with a string of exemplars - even if in somewhat pedestrian fashion. The Hittite Palace Chronicle (c. 1610s BCE), by way of illustration, is a disorderly yet interesting collection of stories about royal officials whose 'good and evil deeds were duly rewarded or punished'. Functionaries of the great Mursilis I were obviously expected to take note and learn lessons from such precedents.29 In other more intriguing cases, however, we learn from the annalists that disasters are not straightforward acts of divine retribution on losers. The writer of one fascinating Sumerian tablet refuses to believe that Lagash fell because its own deity Ningirsu turned against the great reformer Urukagina. Because the latter was held blameless, the conquerors' tutelary goddess Nidaba had to be blamed: Ningirsu would eventually make Nidaba and her (Ummaite) accomplices 'pay for their misdeed'. 30 Of still more interest is the

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developing tradition in Babylon's priestly circles that Marduk, the divine lord of their city, could decree its defeat (not just constant victories) and yet expect due worship from its conquerors because - as adumbrated in the writings of the Kassites ( 1350s BCE) -good or bad endings respectively came to kings who either served Marduk or failed him. 31 In all antiquity, as we shall find, a common problem surrounds dynastic change or threats of such change, since those who disrupt a royal lineage fall under the suspicion of usurpership and require special legitimacy. Those successful in their claims to a throne or in fending off threats to their acquisition of power thus characteristically defend or bolster their positions in terms of retribution manifested through events. Before Telepinus seized power, one Hittite polemic (1520s BCE) has it that the gods arranged the assassination of the apparently legitimate rulers before him so that his advent brought an end to bloodshed. The famous 'Apology' of the Hittite Hattusilis III (1270s BCE) declares his worthiness to reign simply because the acclaimed and rightful heir acted malevolently against him: 'Lady Ishtar' displayed her retributive power to instal Hattusilis as a 'great king' instead. In the much later Assyrian context (eighth century BeE), by comparison, Esarhaddon also produced a personal apology for his removal of 'usurpers' (hamma'u) because they included his brothers (who had estranged him from his father Sennacherib and so led him to parricide). These brothers acted 'against the will of the gods', while he, Esarhaddon, was granted both divine and (despite everything) paternal blessing. 32 While admitting the prototypical qualities of these very ancient records, however, there is barely any sense within them of history's moving directionally along a single line of appropriate rewards and punishments, because an 'over-empirical' concern with particular reigns tended to prevent annalists from covering long periods of time. 33 Events were frequently recounted for their 'exemplary value', certainly, involving blame laid, deeds justified, and the occasional warnings that problems would recur if proper conditions were unmet; 34 yet we do not find a systematic instantiating of retributive justice. Principles of divine justice become decidedly historicized, however, in the long narratives of classical Hebrew and Greek authors. Yahweh, the God of Israel, is portrayed in the Bible as acting with 'blessing and curse' through long stretches of the nation's past, even from humanity's first beginnings. Greek initiators of laro{!ia, for their part, generally looked for the outworkings of justice in wars and the social upheavals of their times. If one is bent on explaining the emergence of early Christian historiography, coming to terms with its conceits and structural qualities, there is no better place to begin than with the determinative histories of the Hebrew Bible (the Old Testament) and of the Greek classics.

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The Hebrews All the obvious signs that Israelite tribal custodians were preserving their oral traditions, and that the court scribes from the monarchical period (c. 1000-586 BeE) were chronicling events of each king's reign, show up in the present text of the Hebrew Bible. The final or near-final redactions to Biblical books with historical narration do not begin to take place before the sixth century BCE, though, and no systematic view of history along retributive lines can be established from bits and pieces of older source material used in the later compositions. All we can conclude is that these ancient materials point in the general ideological direction of later authors - God crushes the enemies of 'the people of Yahweh' and 'gives strength like the rising sun to those who love him' (Judg 5:13, 31; cf. Josh 10:12ff.), and God imposes the threat of curse and punishment on his people if they break his administrative covenant (e.g. Deut 27:15-26). 35 It is with the great Deuteronomic history (c. 570 BCE), however, that the historicization of retributive logic receives its first thorough application. The books of Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges, 1 and 2 Samuel and 1 and 2 Kings, together constituting a master-work, provide the lengthiest coverage of a nation's past before the birth of Christianity, signalling divine judgements over more than six centuries. 36 The context - indeed, crisis - that generated this work was the traumatic Babylonian Exile, and the need to explain why the kingdoms of Israel and Judah were overcome by outside forces - by Assyria and Babylon. The narrative is deliberately prefaced by Yahweh's forging of the covenant with Moses and the wilderness wanderers, so that the events which accompany the Israelites' possession of the Promised Land, the period of the Judges, and the rise and decline of the monarchy can be viewed by attentive readers in relation to the demands of the Torah. 37 This history is far from straightforwardly archival, then, let alone an attempt at 'objective history' before its time. 38 It addresses a national catastrophe, and the work, in all likelihood written in Babylon, reminds exiled Jews of an 'original basis' on which they received the Promised Land, and is made up of connected materials which exemplify the dire consequences of transgressing Yahweh's commands and the blessings flowing from righteousness. Barely a key prohibition or imposed condition enunciated legally in Deuteronomy is not also somewhere invoked in the narrative, 39 and although this method of arrangement may well reflect the main and actual developments in Israelite affairs, the materials selected are intended to illustrate the realizing of Yahweh's retributive actions and the coming true of the Sinaitic warnings. A historical pattern in Judges 2-3 encapsulates what the author(s) wish to say about the reciprocal principles that lie behind the ups and downs of Israel's affairs, both generally and more particularly for conditions after Joshua's forces seize the Promised Land. 40 Whenever the Israelites 'did what

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was evil in the sight of Yahweh', and 'forsook him for the worship of Baal', his 'hand was against them for evil, as he had warned and sworn to them' (2:10-15; cf. Deut 28:15ff.). But whenever the people 'cried to the Lord', under the oppression of those God allowed to 'test' Israel, he raised up deliverers for them - Judges - who 'saved them from their enemies' (2:18, 22; 3:9, 15; 4:3). With this bold schematization the impression is created that the whole of the Promised Land is lost and regained as Israel's possession in accordance with Israel's disobedience and obedience, the period of the Judges being chosen as the time when operations of divine retribution manifested themselves most regularly and starkly. Before and after these alternating conditions, the benefits of righteousness are rendered more obvious through the narration of the deserved total conquest of Canaan and the welcome 'Rest' (noah) under Joshua (especially Josh 6:27; 10:14, 28-42; 12:1; cf. 23:1), and of Israel's national high point when David unifies and expands the kingdom, Solomon builds the Temple, and God brings a significant second Rest to his people (especially 1 Sam 29:1-2 Sam 8:15; 1 Kings 6-10; cf. 2 Sam 7:10-16; 1 Kings 8:56). After the building of the Temple, however, and the wise first half of Solomon's reign, events gather momentum towards a nadir. Dangers attending monarchy had indeed already been disclosed in the desert (Deut 17:15-16), and its ambiguities show up both in altercations between the prophet-judge Samuel and the people over their desire for a king (1 Sam 9, 11-17, 22), 41 and in the problems of the inaugural reign under Saul (whom God rejected as king for his disobedience and who died by his own hand in battle with the Philistines [1 Sam 15-16, 31; 2 Sam 7:15]).42 But from the time of Solomon's chariot station and forced-labour policies, the Deuteronomic history traces mounting sin and defection that portend disaster. Israel splits from Judah, and Jeroboam I, as the first king to rule the northern kingdom of Israel, brings the looming shadow of Baalite idolatry over his people (especially 1 Kings 12:25-31; cf. Deut 5:7-10; 9:16), prophets pronounce against accumulating sins (e.g. 1 Kings 17-21 on Elijah), and Israel's collapse at the hands of Assyria is the terrible consequence (especially 2 Kings 17:21-23; cf. Deut 4:25-28).43 Judah is spared the Assyrian scourge, since some of its kings do go9d: indeed, two- Hezekiah and Josiah- are extolled for their active opposition to Canaanite cults (18:3-7; 23:4-20). 44 The terrible sins of the Judaean Manasseh, however, make the averting of another disaster impossible. His building altars to false gods, sacrificing his firstborn, resorting to superstitious augury and mediums, and especially his shedding 'much innocent blood' (2 Kings 21:2-9, 16; cf. Deut 4:23, 25; 5:8; 18:10-12; 19:10, 13; 1 Sam 28:15-25) make the fall to Babylon- as earlier prophesied by Isaiah (2 Kings 20:17) -inevitable (2 Kings 21:10-15; 23:26-27 [cf. Aquila text]; 24:3-4). Manasseh's offences and their terrible outcomes contrast pointedly with

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David's less significant sins and his avoidance of personal blood-guilt, although his reign was nonetheless fittingly wracked by rebellions and feuding (especially 2 Sam 13-19; 1 Kings 2:5). 45 As conqueror ofJerusalem, and thus founder-king of Judah, David was the recipient of a prophetic promise that was believed by the Deuteronomist(s) to outlast the tragedy brought on by his worst successors (2 Sam 7:16). The literary centrepiece of the whole work, moreover, seems to have been provided by an earlier, rather secular memorial intended to show why Solomon (and no other contender, not even one from the house of Saul) was legitimately king, and thus no usurper. 46 Yet the cardinal message of the Deuteronomic history remains overarching, indicating that the fall of Samaria to the Assyrians (721 BCE) and the fall of Jerusalem to the Babylonians (586 BeE) were divine punishments against a people whose persistent sinning made serious disaster unavoidable and thus brought on Israel's 'scattering among the nations', as Moses had forewarned (Deut 4:25-28).47 The Deuteronomist finishes on a quiet note of hope: Judah's exiled king Jehoiachin is freed from prison and eats at the table of Babylon's ruler Evilmerodach (2 Kings 25:27-30). But such optimism arises less from a concern to preserve the monarchy (cf. 24:9) than because of the demand, as the work's initial theological platform has it, that the people will return to God when 'tribulation befalls ... in the latter days' (Deut 4:29-31; cf. 28:36; 1 Kings 8:46). 48 The historical work covers almost 20 generations of bitter lessons, confirming the consistency of the One who established his inviolable covenant in the wilderness, imposing his curses upon the disobedient and granting mercy to the righteous. A residual hope apparently rests on Judah as kingdom and political entity, which is somehow to be preserved 'for the memory of David's sake', for David as recipient of the great promise ( 1 Kings 11:13, 32, 36; 15:4; 2 Kings 8:19; cf. 1 Kings 2:4; 8:20, 25). 49 Yet the Deuteronomic masterpiece is not that of a cultural or political victor. The whole work stands more as a 'theodicy' for a defeated people: Yahweh's ways required justification at a time when disillusionment and the attractions of the conquerors' gods were intensifying. If there was to be any kind of return to past glory, the story of Joshua showed the way. Of all the component parts of the work this was the most religiously and historically contrived, containing the least evidence of older sources. Those who suspect that what became the independent book of Joshua was originally the Deuteronomic manifesto demonstrating the kind of purity required for re-securing the Promised Land after defeat and exile under Babylon are probably correct. 50 The invaders enter Canaan after a stereotypical 40-year purification (Josh 5:6; cf. Deut 2:21, 33-36; 5:6); arbitrarily, all males are obliged to undergo circumcision before entry (Josh 5:5; yet cf. Lev 12:3); much of the mystique of the Exodus is repeated (albeit 'secondarily') in the conquerors' experiences -as in the parting of the Jordan (Josh 3:16; cf. also 2:1; 4:1-7; 5:15); and in

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their committed guiltlessness (2:17, 19) the Israelites' labour is only marred by the looting carried out by Achan (whose licence is not even condemned by Deuteronomic prescriptions: Josh 6:19; 7:20-25; 22:20; yet cf. Deut 20:14-16). The victory is consummate (Josh 6:8-10), and with the unconvincing purging of the whole land by 'utterly destroying all that breathed [nJtt¢~0-7-?1 as the Lord commanded' (Josh 10:40b; cf. Deut 10:16-17; Josh 6:21; 8:26; 10:28-40), we can infer that the historian is deliberately evoking 'the extremity of obedience' without which any return would be impossible. 5 1 The whole narration, we should acknowledge, is highly varied in content and conveys the differences between the stages of Israel's development, but the selection and framing of episodes and event-sequences is decidedly oriented towards retributive issues. 52 There is no stated theory of history, admittedly, but only the arrangement of materials to illustrate the consequences of actions, the punctuated injection of judgements as to which deeds are good (Jit!l) or bad (i.JJ), and occasional general assessments (as, for instance, at 2 Kings 23:26). It is left to readers to make many of the connections between Deuteronomy as preface and the bulk of the narrative, and to reflect on the cumulative impact of what remains an untheorized theology of history embedded below the textual surface. Contemporary and earlier modes of annal-writing may have constrained the writer(s) against interpretative commentary, yet a genuine originality lies in placing a narrative of the past under the prefatorial light of a Law code (which has also been given an 'ethical tone'), and in reinforcing the claims of Yahweh through the interjections of the prophets. The Deuteronomist, we could even say, inspirationally 'invented' the Law and the Prophets. 53 Implicitly the rewards or punishments reflected in the events as described were in accordance with the degree of merit or of incurred guilt, but outcomes were ultimately dependent on Yahweh and not upon natural or 'mechanical' laws. Retribution is not experienced evenly, nor even in stereotypical form. Happenings are basically left to speak for themselves, and requitals are therefore instanced in apparently actual rather than fabricated outcomes. A recompense for good may come as a general condition (as with peace during the Solomonic period), but could be found in a moment of death (as with Josiah, who was saved from worse troubles to come by dying in battle and 'being gathered to his fathers': (2 Kings 22:20; cf. 23:29-30). As for divine punishments, they could arrive immediately or relatively soon, or be intriguingly deferred. 54 Consider the evil Manasseh, who experiences a long life and is buried in his garden tomb (2 Kings 21:1, 18), yet according to the Deuteronomist's logic of retribution, the fortunes of the whole nation hinge on the characters and cultic allegiances of its rulers, and the penalty for Manasseh's defection was collective (even if other kings suffered more personal retributions, cf., e.g., 2 Kings 9:7-8; 21:22-23). And if in most cases the sense of punishment is unsubtle - rendered by

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an enemy's victory (e.g. 2 Kings 10:17), an environmental force (e.g. 2 Sam 21:1; 1 Kings 17:1), or declared judgements of righteous rulers and prophets (Josh 7:24-26; Judg 9; 1 Sam 2:27-36; 1 Kings 2:27-36; 21-22; 2 Kings 9)in other situations subtlety prevails. Readers 55 of the prophet Nathan's parable before David about the slaughter of the innocent lamb (2 Sam 12:1-7), for example, would have known that the penalty for killing one sheep is to repay four (cf. Exod 22:1), so that for deviously disposing of Uriah the Hittite to secure the beautiful Bathsheba, David was to lose four sons. 5 6 The Deuteronomic history is seminal for the historicization of retributive logic. The motif of requital binds the whole corpus materiae into a literary unity, and provides the key to its hermeneutics - its interpretation as intended for readers (the exiled community) and the composer's own interpretation of history - as stitched through the narrative from beginning to end (Deut 1:34; 2 Kings 24:20). The way the approach also brings into being a better-threaded body of redacted texts beyond the Deuteronomistic history itself is extraordinary. Deuteronomic editorial activity (D) intrudes into Pentateuchal tradition-keeping as a whole, encouraging subsequent redactors (thus P, the 'Priestly' source) to underscore retributive emphases. One way or another, patterns of defection, punishment, returning and blessing comparable to the scheme of Judges 2- 3 appear in the crucial prefatorial narratives of Genesis 1-11, the ejection from Eden, the shortening of the human lifespan, the Flood, and the confusion of tongues (3:23; 6:3; 7:17; 11:8); and show up strongly in the Exodus story and in narratives framing the reception of Israel's laws (especially Exod 7 -11; 14 -15; 33; Num 12). Deuteronomist influences emerge in the narrative chapters of the greater prophetic writings (especially Isa 8; 36- 39; Jer 24- 29; 32-45 ), coming to colour and unify the Torah and the Prophets as these collections crystallized in the fourth century BCE. 57 In other works (notably those that constitute the Wisdom literature) we find that a normative understanding of God's methods tends to restrain and inhibit subtler interpretations of suffering and social realities. A narrative redactor settles the apparently insoluble predicament in the Job poem by giving the hero his eventual- and abundant! - deserts (Job 42:10-16); psalms are made to link suffering and sin more palpably than in their original compositions; and, to quiet the restless cynicism of Qoheleth, a later addendum reassures us that God 'will bring every deed into judgement [in the end]' (Eccl 12:14).58 Such a dominant outlook was also bound to fertilize the seed-bed of Jewish apocalyptic, so that expectations of great retribution against Israel's enemies and oftransformative blessing for God's people are expressed (from such earlier texts as Isa 63:1-6; Zech 9:8-16; 14:12-14 to Dan 7; 12 and beyond). 59 The last works in the collection known as the Writings in the Hebrew

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Bible are Ezra, Nehemiah and 1 and 2 Chronicles, stylistically integrated enough to be considered one grand historical narration - that of 'The Chronicler'. A somewhat fastidious, unsubtle preoccupation with the working-out of divine retribution permeates the whole enterprise. As the original ordering of the books probably had it, 60 the writer(s) first concentrated on the achievements of David and Solomon's unified kingdom (with a special focus on architectural and liturgical arrangements) (1 Chron 112 Chron 9). And after tracing the vicissitudes of the kingdom of Judah to its fall and the first Temple's destruction - with little concern for Israel in the north - (2 Chron 10- 36), the Chronicler treats the restoration of the nation's fortunes under Ezra and Nehemiah, with characteristic attention to the rebuilt Temple and priestly rituals (Ezra, Nehemiah). The reigns of David and Solomon - especially that of the latter - are extolled and whitewashed so as to parallel the holy careers of Ezra and Nehemiah, whose role it is to fortify the devout community, not just the holy city of Jerusalem. 61 The failure of David's enemies (1 Chron 10:4- 14:17; 18:1-11), for instance, is tied in with and correlated to the increased capacity for establishing the centre of religious worship at Jerusalem and acquiring the materials necessary for his son to build the Temple (11:4; 14:1, 15:1-17:1; 18:8b, lla; cf. 2 Sam 5-8). Commensurately, a restored Temple can be achieved after the Exile because those who fit it out purify themselves 'following the directions of David' (Ezra 3:10) and 'his son Solomon' (Neh 12:45), and in this manner Jerusalem can once again stand firm (Ezra 9:8; Neh 12:27; cf. 1 Chron 23:25). Against a repentant nation its enemies are utterly incapable of preventing the Restoration (especially Ezra 4:1- 6:7; 9:6-15; Neh 4:1- 5:15; 10:28, 33-34; 12:30, 44b).62 In the Chronicler's portrayal of monarchs after Solomon, as my earlier study of the minutiae has revealed, the approach to rewards and punishments seems simplistic. Every illness is itself a deserved penalty, the violent deaths of kings are apprehended as punishments, and every defeat indicates prior disobedience. In contrast, material prosperity accompanies almost blameless rule, and except for the murder of the prophets, violent deaths of those not deserving of them remain overlooked. 63 The Chronicler's retributions, moreover, are characteristically immediate.64 The affairs of the northern kingdom fade into virtual irrelevancy. Made susceptible by Jeroboam I's disobedient idolatry, Israel is quickly weakened by the military victories of the Judaean Abijah (2 Chron 13:16-22). The eventual collapse of Israel before the Assyrians is left undocumented, though it was important to affirm that Israelite successes against Judah were due to royal faithlessness (as in the case of Ahaz: 2 Chron 28:9). In concentrating on Judaean affairs, the Chronicler created an alternating effect - between shifts for the better under monarchs who show repentance, and shifts for the worse by those who do evil - an oscillation between good

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and bad fortunes that recalls patterns in some Babylonian chronicles (though with retributions related to divine commands, not omens). 65 Some potentially crass results ensue. The apparent anomaly by which Manasseh committed abominations and yet enjoyed a long reign is now resolved, because, as his punishment, he is carried in chains to Babylon by the Assyrians, and then after repentance he is forthwith restored (2 Chron 23:11-20, om. 2 Kings). The perfidious Jehoiakim is conveyed in irons to Babylon by the Chaldaeans (2 Chron 36:6, om. 2 Kings), an evident 'impossibility ... before the capture of Jerusalem'. 66 Even Josiah, otherwise extolled for his righteousness, dies at Pharaoh Necho's hands for not heeding God's admonitions on the Egyptian's lips (2 Chron 35:21-22, om. 2 Kings 23:29) 67 - a reading so shocking as to induce a subsequent textual clarification that the warning was really from Jeremiah (figuring in the Chronicler's eyes as the prophet of Judah's ruin and renewal [Ezra a or LXX Ezra 1; cf. 2 Chron 36:12, 22, om. 2 Kings ]). 68 The alternations between defection and obedience of Judah's dynastic kings provides the framework for the Chronicler's most general overview of history, which in the book of Nehemiah's famous prayer (Neh 9:7-37) tends to return to the kind of artificial schema we have noted in Judges 2-3. Although they are not narrated in the work itself, this prayer conducts us through Israel's fortunes from the founding fathers to the pre-monarchical situation (cf. at least the genealogical backcloth of 1 Chron 1 - 9). 69 After the divine choice of Abram, the saving act of the Exodus, and the granting of the Law, regrettable presumption and idolatry rear among the wilderness wanderers. After they accede to the Promised Land the Israelites turn their backs on God. If in forbearance Yahweh gives them saviours (o~v.~WJI;l) to relieve them from the consequences of their disobedience, the sins nonetheless continue until God delivers the nation into the hands of others. The restored Jerusalem, however, is a sign of God's mercy for the laying aside of sin and avoidance of idolatrous profanity (cf. Neh 5; 13:18, 26), and is thus an upward movement in a general zigzag process that so far contains no one decisive peak in (post-Sinaitic) national history. 70 Rewards and penalties for individuals in the Chronicler's work are quite separate from those that befall 'all Israel' (7~")~¢~-7~). In the Deuteronomic work kings are accredited with a representativeness by which their actions could affect the whole nation and over a fairly extensive lapse of time, such logic being reminiscent of the archaic notion that the descendants of evildoers could suffer even 'up until the third and fourth generation' (Exod 20:5 par. Deut 5.9; cf. also Exod 34:7). The Chronicler minimizes this representativeness, however, and each king receives his individual deserts comparatively quickly. The effects of exilic and post -exilic notions of individuals' each paying for their own sins now manifests itself historiographically (see especially Ezra 9: 11-15, and cf. Ezek 18, Ps 7:16 for background). The

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whole nation must still pay, though, because kol-Israel as a people are themselves culpable, and their collective culpability thus leads to the incurring of adversity and exile (especially 2 Chron 36:14, om. 2 Kings; Ezra 9:7, 13; Neh 9:32).7 1 The historicization of retributive logic was firmly entrenched in Hebrew literature by the fifth century BCE, and without grasping how the classical Jewish historians wrote about blessing and chastisement so as to reveal patterns of the past one cannot hope to understand the operations of early Christian historiographers. The ancient Christians were inheritors of the Israelite modes of descriptive narration. For the Hebrews the monotheistic implication is strict: patterns of retribution never approach the status of 'natural laws' nor even independent principles of inevitable mutability or an impersonal 'poetic justice'. The Hebrews' God is decidedly non-commutative: he freely frames his statutes and decrees judgements according to his will. Event outcomes in terms of rewards or penalties each clearly presuppose divine initiatives, and they take on consistency - as retributive justice - only because God has established his covenants and demands Israel's compliance with them. The Deity is not subject to cosmic and historical principles, nor are such available for 'religious bargaining' with God, since the Torah is to be kept as a covenantal relationship, not for appeasement. 72 In what may be described as largely a 'double causality' humans act for good or ill, but what righteousness and evil are is pre-disclosed by God, who responds to human behaviour. 73 Only towards the end of the classical Hebrew period does Satan creep in as an inspirer of evil (1 Chron 21:1; yet cf. 2 Sam 24:1), and he is given a cosmic identity as the origin of all evil only in speculative literature (1 Enoch, especially 54:6). 74 The historiographical legacy received by the Christians, however, was not only Hebraic, and by the time of Jesus another great tradition renowned for its historians had already had its impact on Jewish literary activity - that of the Greeks. What, then, do we make of Greek 'enquiries [into the past]', and their implications for Christian reflections about the retributive face of events?

The Greeks It is surely not surpnsmg that retributive principles were significant to

ancient Greek historiographical practice. After all, the greatest Hellenic epic poetry related stories of heroic vengefulness in the Trojan War, and Hesiod's Theogony contains as much about cosmic conflict (140-210, 295-331, 617-820) as Mesopotamian creation myths. By the sixth century Nemesis had emerged as an inescapable power that dealt out appropriate deserts ( Vl~/1et) to those worshipping or neglecting her; and the Erinyes (Furies), whether originally ghosts of the slain or the fearful power of curses, were

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more uniformally accepted as the spirits of punishment, avenging murder (especially that of kin). These powers often seem to fulfil an inevitable destiny, and though resembling 'the angel of death' (2 Sam 24:16-17; 1 Chron 21:12-30, om. Exod 12; yet cf. Wisd 18:25), they remained unaffected by the kind of repentance allowed in the Bible, from a God 'having no pleasure in the death of anyone' (Ezek 18:32). Also by the sixth century the Moirai (Fates) were reckoned by Greeks to be the gods' dispensers of benison or doom, while Tyche (Fortune, good or bad) was extolled as a child of Zeus who came bearing bounty, and as 'sister of order and persuasion' in her distributions of weal and woe. 75 Zeus himself, a weather god elevated to kingship over the Olympians, was the deity whose wrath ( b(JY1]), when vented, was most to be feared (especially if oaths were broken), yet who came to be seen as the great distributor of justice more generally (15btfJ) (cf., for example, Homer, Odyss., VI, 188). Dike emerged as a goddess in her own right by the seventh century, while Dionysos, yet another child of Zeus, was distinctly vengeful on offences against his cult.76 So notwithstanding the monotheistic pressure to limit the agencies of explanation, the Greeks evidently accepted a wider range of spirit-harbingers. Certainly there were comparable concerns between Hebrews and Greeks about the effects of evil spirits, sorcery and pollution, 77 yet Greek thoughts on retributive thinking were more diverse and under less pressure to be consistent in the deployment of relevant interpretative conceits - at least, until attempts at synthesis by philosophers and historians. Early Greek philosophy reacted to this explanatory heterogeneity by moving towards greater intellectual coherence. Although radically questioning traditional polytheisms - not to mention the quarrels and inconsistencies of those old gods - pre-Socratic cosmologists not surprisingly appealed to the notion of retribution to unlock the secrets of the universe. 'Everything that exists', claimed Anaximander, 'metes out justice [(){xrJ] and makes or demands restitution [·rlm~] for what it thinks is injustice [cMtxia] as time disposes.' 78 'All things flow' and 'come into being and pass away' runs Heraclitus' renowned dictum - but they do so through what he unhesitantly calls ~(JL~ (strife): a strife between such opposing forces as heat and cold, fire and water, ocean and fresh water, that forever forestalls imbalance in the permanently conflictual arena of the cosmos.79 Metempsychosis was taught by other thinkers equally concerned with cosmic processes of justice, their teachings anticipating the Platonic formula that 'souls receive what they deserve in every succession of life and death'. 80 Questions of whether the gods bestowed favours and meted out punishments among humans, or whether there were abstract, reciprocal principles that governed the course of events (even the actions of the deities themselves), were bound to concern those engaged in narrating and interpreting the past. 81 Humans were obviously quite capable of upsetting the balance of

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things (and thus engendering the reactions and consequences which made for interesting literary reflection). What Heraclitus said about the moderating forces of the cosmos nicely complements much in Greek ethical theory, in which balance and restraint are extolled. The Delphic Oracle warned against excess; the Pythagorean prohibition against crossing a beam-balance (¢mn]) made the same point metaphorically; and the great Aristotle preached a middle way between excess and defect. 82 Mortals were often cautioned against aspiring to what they could or should not be - gods, or the possessors of undue power over others - because to violate one's portion (f.-LOL(Ja) in the universe inevitably brought disastrous results. 83 Heraclitus joined the chorus of those warning against human arrogance and excessive desire: to him the moderating principles of the natural world were complemented by proportionate 'measures' of law in the human and moral spheres. 84 Most extant ancient Greek historiography, one finds, seems inspired by events which allow comparable messages to be conveyed. Herodotus of Halicarnassus (c. 484-c. 425 BeE), the acclaimed 'father of history', 85 intended two things in his renowned account of the Persian wars: to preserve the memory of astonishing achievements by both Greeks and barbarians, and to show the cause ( alr:iry) of the warring between the two (Hist. I, 1). It is plain from the start that he realizes how the current GreekAsiatic, West-East struggle (especially between 490 and 480) had its basis in earlier reciprocal raiding across the Aegean, and he naturally includes among such raids the Hellenic expedition to avenge the Trojan abduction of Helen (I, 2-4). The Ionian historian is eager to explain the dreadful outcome of this Trojan War because what happened to Agamemnon and his Greek herocompanions becomes paradigmatic for his own work. As ordained by providence (.n(J6vow) the Greeks refused to believe what was true- that the Trojans did not have Helen with them at all - so that the utter destruction of the Trojans 'might plainly demonstrate to humanity that great injustices [ a&xt}f.-LaTa] are always visited by great punishments [Ttf.-LW(Jim] at the gods' hands' (II, 120; cf. 114-16). This avowedly personal conclusion might just as well stand as a vital key to his whole literary enterprise, in which he insists that when agents remain blind to truth and justice they reap disaster, while conversely those who are honourable and just are rewarded. And like the Biblical historians, his interests lie in representative figures, or the monarchs and leaders of nations. Herodotus' Historiae, it turns out, is above all about men who are to blame. 86 Its author is a democratically-inclined pro-Athenian writer who indicts kings for suffering from the typical delusion that they are more than men, requiring immense wealth through envy ( ¢86vo~) and greater-thannecessary power through pride (v{3(JL~) (especially III, 80). Such excesses generate tyranny, and the most awesome example of such a nexus lies with Xerxes (I), the last of the great Persian rulers to attempt an invasion of

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Hellas. Xerxes arrogated to himself mastery over the Hellespont - the very boundary between Europe and Asia - having it lashed 300 times and all the bridge-builders who failed against its storms decapitated (VII, 34-5). He reveals his godless hubris by wanting to rule over two worlds, and by destroying statues of the local deities as his forces proceed into Hellas (VIII, 109).87 He heeds neither omen nor sound advice (VII, 10, 48, 57). Even as his fleet is overcome at Salamis, he deludes himself that Persia carries no responsibility for the debacle because it is mainly Egyptian, Phoenician and ships from other dependencies that are destroyed (VIII, 101). In the face of this, Herodotus cannot forbear appealing to the Delphic Oracle's prophecy that 'L1ixry will quench hubris and violence ... and through Zeus, Victory bring freedom to Hellas' (VIII, 77), implying only humiliation for the loser (VIII, 118; IX, 107-13).8 8 Xerxes hardly stands alone in meriting adverse retribution: and some monarchs, in a manner comparable to that of the Bible, are also shown to deserve unpleasant deaths. Because Cambyses II, one of Xerxes' predecessors, violates v611o~ (Law) - by breaching the customs of conquered Egypt, murdering his brother and marrying his sister (III, 16-17, 30-1, 36)- death finds him bitter, guilt-ridden and lacking heirs, his empire racked by rebellion (III, 65-6). Darius I, who virtually usurped Cambyses' throne (III, 67-88), dies robbed of his longed-for chance to take revenge on the Greeks for the Persian defeat at Marathon (VII, 4). Even Cyrus (II) the Great, esteemed founder of the Achaemenid dynasty, dies apparently deservedly in battle, having expanded his territory too far - and having failed to heed warnings about such presumption (I, 189-90, 209-14). Other rulers less important to the Herodotean account likewise receive fitting deserts at death. Herodotus actually achieves literary cohesiveness in his work by posting 'fitting conclusions' to two of his central books through recounting the demises of a couple of relatively minor figures - the cruel queen Pheretima of Cyrene, who dies in horrible, worm-infested agony (IV, 205; cf. 161ff.), and the 'poor-spirited' tyrant of Miletus, Aristagoras, (significantly) killed in an expedition far from his homeland (V, 125-6; cf. 31ff.). 89 Ifless drastically, tisis also catches up with Scylas the Scythian king for daring to be a Dionysian initiate, and the Spartan Cleomenes I for corrupting the Pythian priestess (IV, 79-80; VI, 75, 84; cf. also III, 64; VI, 12, etc.). While some Egyptian Pharaohs are quietly left uncriticized (II, 100-11, 150-8, 177; III, 10), others bring retribution on themselves or their people - Psammis, for instance, faces changed fortunes after his attempts to destroy Libya (II, 161; cf. 124-33). True Hellenic (particularly Athenian) values stand in stark contrast to parochial treacheries and especially to the barbaric caprice of Asian despots. In Herodotus' earliest and perhaps most determinative dialogue, the dedication of those Greeks who die valorously in the service of their polity gleams

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as profound virtue (arete) beside the soft excesses and false happiness of Lydia's king Croesus (I, 29-34, 86; cf. also VII, 134-5).90 Justice thus supports those who have not 'made the gods jealous' (cf. III, 40), who like Themistocles divine the subtle messages of the gods (VII, 141-4), and the final victory is above all that of the more democratic Athenians, as champions of freedom and actual liberators of Ionia (from where the Athenians believed they hailed in the distant past: cf. I, 146; VII, 139, 157; VIII, 124-5). Later ancient writers were to criticize him for his partisanship, 91 yet at the time Herodotus wrote, the Athenians were still militarily active in the aftermath of the Persian invasion under Xerxes, consolidating their position in the northern and eastern Aegean, and his narratives lent early legitimacy to the maritime empire they had begun to build. 92 The Herodotean enterprise, then, proclaims a 'moral order' of divinelysanctioned retribution, and bears direct comparison with Old Testament historiography. 93 The differences are not to be neglected, of course, and have to do with preconceived aspects of retributive logic. In the Historiae the sense of destiny ( ro XQE6v) is a distinctly Greek element (especially VII, 17; IX, 42; cf. Aeschylus, Pers., 678-1004). The course of events is often represented as already affected by curse or prophecy, and thus by divine ordinance beyond any acknowledged agents' control. The woes of Croesus, for a start, are related directly to the forgotten oracle that the founder of the Lydian kingdom would be avenged in the fifth generation after him (Hist., I, 13, 91). An oracular prediction specified that Egypt should suffer long after Cheops (II, 133), and similar oracles are fulfilled in both the outrages and the appropriate demises of Cambyses and Cleomenes (III, 65; VI, 80). Here we should not neglect the curious case of Polycrates, king of Samos, who in experiencing too much luck (tyche) had then to endure a complete reversal of affairs through the jealousy of the gods, and so experienced a terrible death - by crucifixion - in return (III, 40-3, 120-5). This last situation may seem exceptional because Polycrates appears to have suffered retribution simply for being materially fortunate rather than for any particular sins. If Herodotus had concurred with the contemporary playwright Aeschylus, however, that 'it is not prosperity but impious deeds [c5vaae(3ec;] ... and hubris which produce ruin' (Agam., 755-61), he also would have agreed with the same author that excessive prosperity (Seven, 771), excessive glory (Agam., 468-9), and prosperity without regard for justice (Eum., 550-65) all bring disaster through divine jealousy. Polycrates, moreover, in being both a king and so lucky, inevitably overstepped the mark in relation to divine authority (Hist., III, 39-45, 120-26; cf. III, 80; VII, 10; VIII, 109). 94 Most significantly, the Delphic prophecy of a Greek victory was announced well ahead, to lay the major ground for the denouement of Herodotus' work. Together with Themistocles' judgement that the gods saved Hellas because they felt only jealousy towards one who had dared to

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try to rule both Europe and Asia (VIII, 109), this oracle lends a certain inevitability to Persian failures. The historian's distinct preference for telling the outcome first and then going back over the story arises precisely because the past for him betrays the grasp of a divine hand placed from the first upon its workings. 95 Yet it does no justice either to the Ionian to call him a fatalist, since he does not shrink from portraying humans as decision-makers (cf. especially VII, 238; VIII, 87). The logic runs, rather, that human agents, by choosing one line of action or another, bend the course of events towards a certain kind of outcome, a telos which others cannot avert (III, 43) and which can affect subsequent generations (I, 6-20; II, 133). In the Historiae, scores of characters opt to take revenge on enemies - Darius' resolution to avenge himself on Athens is prominent among the relevant cases (V, 105; cf. III, 135) 96 - but the actions entailed by such a choice, the cruelties and outrages en route, inevitably engender immoderate actions, and entail the retributive operations of the divine (see especially VIII, 105-6). Mortals' affairs are encompassed by the superior pronoia (literally fore-knowledge) of the divine (especially III, 108), so that such super-human authorities- for Herodotus still basically the ethnocentrically conceived deities that protect his beloved Hellas - can deceive their victim (as they did through a dream to make Xerxes 'decide wrongly' in his folly or (x-r:ry). 97 Rather than conforming to the natural pragmatic principles of Ionian philosophers, 98 then, Herodotus sees human actions as inducing divine responses - celestial nemesis (I, 34), divine jealousy (III, 40), the violent reaction (6Qy1]), tisis, or dike of the gods (VII, 18; VIII, 106) -which bring into play their inexorable commands with drastic consequences. The Herodotean position is not far removed from the Deuteronomist's, for according to the latter, after all, the most heinous cases of disobedience (Jeroboam I, Manasseh) seem to predestine disaster for subsequent generations. That a change of heart can alter outcomes for the better - evident in both works (as in 2 Sam 24:1, 10, 17, 25b; and when Croesus is made wise in Herodotus I, 87-8)- means that for both writers the sense of inexorability may be qualified, although the Chronicler makes more concession to the power of repentance than either of them. Overall, in any case, the Ionian shared with Old Testament historiographers a recognition that human affairs are divinely governed, albeit by an apparently more impersonal and less sovereign Deity ( n) Befov; cf. I, 32; III, 40, 108). The hermeneutical concepts deployed were admittedly different, yet Herodotus shares with the Hebrew authors an awareness that the Deity can 'turn against' evil, the Greek conceiving it primarily as hubris and the Biblical annalists as sin (i1~~Q). The converse interest in blessing is, of course, a more decidedly Hebraic one. This may have to do with Herodotus' cosmopolitan compass; many barbarian polities and their representatives come into his story as subject to a similiar logic of rise and decline as Persia. 99 The Bible's historiographers, in

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contrast, especially the Chronicler, conceive the nations more as Yahweh's instruments of chastisement and mercy for the sake of his purposes for Israel (1 Chron 1:1-26; 16:24; 2 Chron 33:11-13 [cf. 2 Kings 18:17; 19:17]; 35:21; 36:6; Ezra 1:1-2; 6:12). After Herodotus' example, Greek historiography always bore moral implications and the retributive motif. Thucydides (d. c. 402 BCE), the Ionian's best-known successor, was faced with a similar string of events the rise and humiliation of imperial Athens, his very own polis - and explaining the traumas of the Peloponnesian War entailed him casting blame. The Thucydidean approach, though, is notably 'rationalistic', even 'naturalistic', and his appeal to retributive principles indirect, subdued or rather sub-textual. 100 He soberly addresses the nature of power-conflict and social malaise in psychological terms, letting his values lie implicit in agents' (creatively adapted) speeches and through the documented consequences of human weaknesses. 101 Athens' expansionism becomes intolerable to Sparta (I, 118; cf. 89-117), creating anxieties out of which all war (including the great Trojan one) is born (I, 23; cf. 10). Under Pericles' democracy, Athens is stable enough to weather Spartan territorial incursions while keeping its overseas possessions intact, but a plague spells the beginning of social disorder and demoralization (II, 53; cf. 65), and after Pericles' death the impassioned demagogy of Clean and lawless excesses of Alcibiades tip the balance (rhope) towards its downfall (especially II, 65; III, 36-40; IV, 21, 27-9; VI, 15; cf. II, 42; V, 102-3; VII, 71, etc.). Thucydides is well aware that no political creation lasts for ever (II, 64). While quietly noting how flustered Athenian elders remembered an oracle foretelling death at Dorian hands (II, 54), however, his focus of attention is on the deleterious effects of greed, self-interest, treachery and unlawful deeds. His work reaches a climax in his account of the ill-fated Syracusan expedition, a folly of far-distant aggrandizement which he likened to Persia's invasions (VI, 33, 76), with the victorious Syracusans being prematurely extolled as the new liberators of Hellas (VII, 56). By subtly paralleling two Sicilian politicians - the wise Hermocrates and the demagogue Athenagoras - with his ideal Pericles and his bete noire Clean (cf. VI, 32-40, 76-80, 99), 102 Thucydides conveys how political moderation can forestall mishap or adverse fortune. For well-ordered souls who nonetheless suffer c5vm:vxia as did Nicias, appointed Athenian leader of the Syracusan expedition and a man of virtue executed undeservedly (cf. fpam:a c51) a;w~) - the historian allowed a quiet sympathy (VII, 86 [5]). For Thucydides, retribution as non-intended outcome belongs to the inner workings of human affairs and is not externally imposed by active immortal powers. A Delphic oracle may have promised Sparta victory, but he hardly takes that as determinative (I, 118). When the terrible plague

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descends on Athens, it befalls the 'good and the bad indiscriminately', and the Thucydidean emphasis is on how the epidemic brought with it 'changes of fortune' and 'unprecedented lawlessness' (II, 53). Most later Greek historians, in contrast, veered back towards the Herodotean mode, enthusiastically adducing divine purposes in order to endow events with an ostensibly profounder meaning and to make didactic points about the results of evil (kakia) or virtue (arete) for their readers' moral edification. 103 Along the way, Xenophon' s inspiring examples of the deeds of great generals constituted the meat of the better-known pre-Roman Hellenistic narratives, including early biographies of the greatest expansionist of them all, Alexander. 104 Before c. 200 BCE the first great Roman historian, the senator Fabius Pictor, attempted a general history of his people as the new force emergent in the West. Written in Greek yet patriotic in tone, his work attributes Rome's successes against the Carthaginians to its piety and justice, even if its author sensed a decline from times when 'petty jealousies' were absent. 105 As for earlier efforts at universal history (which were increasingly popular after Alexander), the wider coverage of political affairs apparently enlarged possibilities for recounting ethically significant episodes. 106 Of all the Greek 'oecumenical' historians down to the Hellenistic age, Polybius of Megalopolis (c. 200-c. 118 BCE) is the most famous. In his view, history provides many lessons for bearing bravely with change and with unexpected turns of events (I, i, 2-3; cf. IX, x, 13; XII, xxvb, 2-3; xxve, S-6). He describes how human affairs are beneficently governed by Tyche, whose rule, far from being mere capricious chance, is presented as that of an essentially godly moral arbiter (I, iv, 1, 4; cf. especially XXIX, xxi; XXXVIII, xxi, 3). 107 A combination of human adaptability and divine favour provide Polybius with the rationale for the most extraordinary international development of his time - the rapidly emergent dominance of Rome. As an erudite politician obliged to travel to Rome and thrust into the 'Scipionic Circle', 108 he finds himself in an excellent position to unravel Roman mastery over the then-known world - over Hellas and the Hellenistic kingdoms, and over Carthage (I, i, 15; ii, 7; XXI, xiv-xvi; XXXVI). Polybius as onlooker shares much in common with Herodotus. His 37 surviving books (out of 39) are studded with ethically-pointed events that illustrate the moral governance of affairs, even though his pragmatism allows for causality at a mundane level and concessions to human voluntarism (as against either divine or natural determinism). 109 His Fortune was certainly the nations' necessary and supreme Umpire (cf. I, lviii, 1), yet she was never as inexorable as destiny, and human actors have a fair chance of extricating themselves from the adverse side of supra-human forces. On the other hand, Polybius took human activity to be bounded by a finite number of possibilities and played out within a recognizable ambit. Human affairs reflected

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classifiable situations and event-complexes, outcomes offering lessons for the future that constituted materials about which Polybius was only too willing to be didactic.U 0 That the insolent should be brought low was an old literary convention going back before Herodotus, and Polybius was happy to retain and exemplify it. In this way the Roman general Regulus paid dearly for being too harsh in the flush of victory (256 BCE) during the First Punic War (I, xxxi, 4-7; xxxiv, 8; xxxv, 1-10),lll while Prusias II of Bithynia, a ruler of unchecked passions who desecrated temples, met 'what seemed like heavenly vengeance' when he lost his entire infantry to Pergamum (155 BCE) (XXXII, xv, 7-8, 13-14). Deploring shameful deeds against the infant son of Egypt's Ptolemy Philopator by the Hellenistic rulers Philip V and Antiochus [III] the Great, Polybius looks into the treaty between these villains (203 BCE) as a 'mirror reflecting all impiety [aae{3Eta] '. In this case Tyche was vehemently invoked: she was bound to make them pay the due penalty [D{u1]] in time, and she exhibited to their successors, as a warning for their edification, the exemplary chastisement [ v;rr6&ty~-ta] that came when the Romans were ... raised up against them, very justly and properly visiting them with the very evils they had wilfully, contrary to all law [;rra!_Jav6~-two~-ta) (1 Mace 6:5-16; cf. 2:68; 2 Mace 9:10-11, 28; 10:4, 9). 135 That then presented the risky challenge oflegitimizing an incoming regime as divinely sustained (cf., e.g., 1 Mace 14), a task Polybius found himself handling as witness to the extraordinary rise of Rome around the same time. Intriguingly, far, far to the east, where quite another historiographical enterprise was consolidating in China during the same second century, it was the confident Confucian explanation of dynastic change that any emperor who had lost the divine mandate would appropriately be toppled. 136 This was the historiographical expectation to sanction acceptable rules that the Christians to come also had to consider, especially when their new and remarkable movement was to gain credence in a wider world. It is to the world of earliest Christianity and the emergence of its own historians that we must now turn.

Notes 1. For pioneering work on revenge warfare: S. R. Steinmetz, Ethnologische Studien zur erster Entwicklung der Strafe, Leiden, 1892; and on primal reciprocity: M. Mauss, Essai sur le don, Paris, 1925. More recently on both: G. W. Trompf, Payback: The Logic of Retribution in Melanesian Religions, Cambridge, 1994. 2. See esp. ibid., prelim. For general information on the subject: M. Sahlins, StoneAge Economics, Chicago and New York, 1972; C. Levi-Strauss, La Pensee sauvage, Paris, 1962; M. Weber, 'Zwischenbetrachtung', in Gesammelte Aufsiitze zur Religionssoziologie, Tiibingen, 1920, vol. 1, pp. 463-9 (esp. sect. 8). For anthropological specifics: e.g., Trompf, 'La logica della ritorsione e lo studio delle religioni della Melanesia', Religioni e Societii, 28 December (1997): 48-72 (Melanesia); R. Benedict, The Chrysanthemum and the Rose, Boston, 1946 (Japan); C. von Fiirer-Haimendorf, Morals and Merit: A Study of Values and Social Controls in South Asian Societies, London, 1967, chs 3-5 (south Asia); S. A. Schlegel, Tiruray Justice: Traditional Tiruray Law and Morality, Berkeley, 1970, esp. pp. 32-4 (Mindanao); cf. B. Williams, Shame and Necessity, Berkeley, 1993 (antiquity); J. Pedersen, Israel: Its Life and Culture, Copenhagen, 1926, vol. 1, pp. 213-44 (ancient Israel); P. Walcot, Greek Peasants, Ancient and Modern, Manchester, 1970, ch. 4 (Greece). 3. Cf. J. Ruud, Taboo: A Study of Malagasy Customs and Beliefs, Oslo, 1960; H. G. S. Nordholt, Curse, Retribution and Enmity as Data in Natural Religion, Amsterdam, 1960; R. Redfield, The Primitive World and Its Transformations, New York, 1968 edn, ch. 3. 4. Cf. C. Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures: Selected Essays, London, 1975, ch. 4. 5. Recalling Friedrich Nietzsche's stimulating Zur Genealogie der Moral, Leipzig, 1887, ii, 1-11. 6. J. Bryce, International Relations, London, 1922, p. 3; cf. Charles Darwin's The

34

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

Early Christian historiography Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex, New York, 1906 edn, p. 118 (earlier quotation). Thus S. Wei!, The Iliad, or The Poem of Force (1940-1) (trans. M. McCarthy), Wallingford, PA, 1965 edn, p. 15; cf. also H. Haag, Homer, Ugarit und das Alte Testament (BA, N.S. 2), Zurich, 1962 (pertinent comparisons); A. A. Demerest and G. W. Conrad (eds), Ideology and Pre-Columbian Civilizations (SARAS), Santa Fe, 1992 (America). Cf. G. H. Mead, 'The Psychology of Punitive Justice', AJS, 23/5 (1918): 577ff. On law: S. Jacoby, Wild Justice, New York, 1983; L. J. Pospisil, The Kapauka Papuans and Their Law (Yale University Publications in Anthropology, 54), New Haven, 1958; cf. 'Legal Texts', ANET, pt 2 (Near Eastern law codes); K. Koch (ed.), Um das Prinzip der Vergeltung in Religion und Recht des Alten Testaments, Darmstadt, 1972 (Middle East); J. J. L. Duyvendak, The Book of Lord Shang: A Classic of the Chinese School of Law, London, 1928 (China). On regulations between armies: note the Indian Arthashastra (reflecting also the Persian decrees of Cyrus); and for Rome: C. E. Brand, Roman Military Law, Austin, 1968. On new moral ambiguities: e.g., M. W. Blundell, Helping Friends and Harming Enemies: A Study in Sophocles and Greek Ethics, Cambridge, 1989 (though missing our points); cf., e.g., E. H. Winter, 'The Enemy Within: Amba Witchcraft and Sociological Theory', in J. Middleton and E. H. Winter (eds), Witchcraft and Sorcery in East Africa, London, 1963, pp. 277ff. (sorcery); F. Sierksma, Religie, sexualiteit en agressie, Groningen, 1979 (sexuality). Vico, La scienza nuova, Naples, 1744, esp. II, prolog., i; cf. I[II], xcv; idem, Opere giuridiche: il diritto universale (ed. P. Cristofolini), Florence, 1974, I, clxxxviiiff. (esp. Rome); cf. W. Cross, 'Buddhist-Taoist Debate Under the Yuan Dynasty' (doctoral dissertation, University of Sydney), Sydney (forthcoming) (Mongol China). On tribalism and the absence of common personhood: e.g., K. E. Read, 'Morality and the Concept of the Person among the GahukuGama', Oceania, 25 (1955): 233ff. Cf. R. Girard, Violence and the Sacred (trans. P. Gregory), Baltimore, 1977, pp. 25, 89-118. Note, e.g., even human sacrifice: W. W. Fowler, 'The Carmen Saeculare of Horace and Its Performance, June 3rd, 17 Be', in his Roman Essays and Interpretation, Oxford, 1920, pp. 111ff. (Rome); A. R. W. Green, The Role of Human Sacrifice in the Ancient Near East (ASOR Dissertation Series, 1), Missoula, 1975, pp. 87-9 (Assyria); H. Gonzalez Torres, El sacrificio humano entre los Aztecas, Mexico City, 1995 edn (Aztecs); cf. B. Lincoln, Death, War, and Sacrifice: Studies in Ideology and Practice, Chicago, 1991. For modern lapses: start with B. Moore, Jr, Reflections on the Causes of Human Misery, Boston, 1973 edn, chs 2-3. On imperial punitive control: W. W. Hallo and W. K. Simpson, The Ancient Near East: A History, New York, 1971, esp. pp. 57-9, 84-6, 144-9, 234-5, 250-2; cf. J. N. Postgate, 'In Search of the First Empires', BASOR, 293 (1994): 3-9; E. S. Gruen, The Last Generation of the Roman Republic, Berkeley, 1974, chs 7-11; M. Gluckman, Politics, Law and Ritual in Tribal Society, Toronto, 1965, chs 3-4; E. Mizruchi, Regulating Society, Chicago, 1987; R. A. Horsley and J. S. Hanson, Bandits, Prophets, and Messiahs, San Francisco, 1988. On modern times: esp. M. Adas, Prophets of Rebellion (SCWH), Cambridge, 1979;

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12.

13.

14.

15.

16.

17. 18.

19.

35

cf., e.g., I. Lapenna, Soviet Penal Policy, London, 1968, esp. ch. 2; M. Loney, 'Social Control in Cuba', in I. and L. Taylor (eds), Politics and Deviance, Harmondsworth, 1973, pp. 42ff. (on the criminalization of political dissidence). For relevant theory: Trompf, 'Salvation and Primal Religion', in D. W. Dockrill and R. G. Tanner (eds), The Idea of Salvation (Prudentia Suppl. No. 1988), Wellington, 1988, esp. pp. 204-13; cf. G. F. Moore, The Birth and Growth of Religion (The Morse Lectures 1922), Edinburgh, 1923, chs 1-2. Not to suggest that small-scale traditional societies did not (come to) have relevant, parallel resources waiting to be harnessed: cf. M. Melko, 52 Peaceful Societies, Oakville, 1969; L. E. Sponsel and T. Gregor, The Anthropology of Peace and Nonviolence, Boulder, 1994. On Job, see alsop. 50. Here I followS. Terrien, 'The Book ofJob', in IB, vol. 3, esp. pp. 888-90 (though not unmindful of debates over the integrity of the text). Note that the 'Job-figure' and that of the Righteous Sufferer are very ancient ones: S. N. Kramer, The Sumerians: Their History, Culture, and Character, Chicago, 1963, p. 296; History Begins at Sumer, New York, 1959, pp. 118, 165. For further reflection: Ab and Aleid de Jong (eds), Kleine Encyclopedie van de Toorn (UTR, 2), Utrecht, 1993; J. T. Addison, La vie apres Ia mort (trans. R. Godet) (Bibliotheque scientifique), Paris, 1936; S. G. F. Brandon, The Judgment of the Dead, London, 1967; J. G. Griffiths, The Divine Verdict: A Study of Divine Judgement in the Ancient Religions (SHR, 52), Leiden, 1991, esp. pt 2. Note also themes in the spiritualization and sublimation of warriorhood, e.g., J. L. Weston, From Ritual to Romance, Garden City, NY, 1957, chs 5-14; cf. D. de Rougemont, L'amour et !'Occident, Paris, 1939. On honour, e.g., V. G. Kiernen, The Duel in European History: Honour and the Reign of Aristocracy, Oxford, 1988; M. Herzfeld, Poetics of Manhood, Chicago, 1987; I. Nitobe, Bushido, Tokyo, 1969, ch. 8. For lost primordia: e.g., J. W. Flight, 'The Nomadic Idea and Ideal in the Old Testament', JBL, 42 (1923): 158ff.; A. 0. Lovejoy and G. Boas, Primitivism and Related Ideas in Antiquity (A Documentary History of Primitivism and Related Ideas, vol. 1), Baltimore, 1935. Note that retributive logic does not have to be intrinsically religious (Trompf, In Search of Origins [SWR, 1]) as in the Machiavellian principles that things work out according to our cunning or folly. For the quotations: Aeschylus, Suppl., 428; H. Melville, Moby Dick, New York, 1851 (=The Whale, London), vol. 3, ch. 93. The retributive theme in literature eventually became a philosophical constituent of modern culture: e.g., M. Scheler, Ressentiment (ed. L. A. Coser, trans. W. W. Holdheim), New York, 1972 edn. I. M. Diakanoff, Sumer: Society and State in Ancient Mesopotamia, Moscow, 1959 (Sumerian economic records); S. D. Walters, Water for Larsa, New Haven and London, 1970, esp. chs 1, 4 (Akkadian). On relevant texts: see W. Farber et al. (comp. and trans.), Rituale und Beschworungen, 1 (TUAT, 11/2), Giitersloh, 1987, pp. 189-211, 236-9, 246-81 (various); cf. A. Falkenstein, Die Haupttypen der sumerischen Beschworung literisch untersucht (LSS, N.F. 1), Leipzig, 1931; J. Lau (ed. and trans.), Old Babylonian Temple Records (CUOS, 3), New York, 1906, pp. 2-44; W. G. Kunstmann, Die babylonische Gebetsbeschworung (LSS,

36

20.

21.

22.

23.

Early Christian historiography N.F. 2), Leipzig, 1932; T. Jacobsen, 'Mesopotamia', in H. and H. A. Frankfort, J. A. Wilson and T. Jacobsen, Before Philosophy, Harmondsworth, 1949 edn, pp. 142-8; G. Dossin, Melanges d'Assyriologie (1934-1959) (Recueil Georges Dossin) (Akk, Suppl. 1), Louvain, 1983; T. A. Gaster, 'A Canaanite Magical Text', Or, N.S. 11 (1942): 44. E.g., A. Goetze, Old Babylonian Omen Texts (YOS, 10), New Haven, 1947; cf. A. L. Oppenheim, 'Zur keilschriftlichen Omen-literatur', Or, N.S. 5 {1936): 199ff.; E. Reiner with D. Pingree (eds), Babylonian Planetary Omens: Part Two (BMes, 2/2), Malibu, 1981, e.g., pp. 48-9; Hittite Omen (ANET, pp. 497-8); Babylonian Eclectic Chronicle 23 (in A. K. Grayson, Assyrian and Babylonian Chronicles [TCS, 5], Locust Valley, NY, 1975, p. 178); and note idem, 'Divination and the Babylonian Chronicles', in La divination en Mesopotamie ancienne (XIV• Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale), Paris, 1966, esp. p. 76 (against Mesopotamian historiography's being derived from omen observations). On the range of legal sanctions: e.g., G. A. Barton (ed. and trans.), The Royal Inscriptions of Sumer and Akkad (LASI, 1), New Haven, 1929, esp., pp. 107, 130 [inscr. 3C] (Akkad); L. Legrain (ed. and trans.), Royal Inscriptions and Fragments from Nippur and Babylon (UPM Publications of the Babylonian Section, 15), Philadelphia, 1926, e.g., pp. 45-7 [inscr. 79-80] (neo-Babylonia). On legal legitimation: e.g., Lipit Ishtar Code, prolog. (ANET, p. 159) (Sumerian law); Code of Hammurabi, prolog., 1.20ff. (ANET, p. 164) (Akkad); for political cursing on boundary stones: e.g., H. R. Veenhoz, 'An Aramaic Curse with a Sumero-Akkadian Prototype', BiOr, 20 {1963): 143; regarding treaties: e.g., ANET, pp. 532-41; cf. F. X. Steinmetzer, Die Babylonischer Kudurru (Grenzsteine) als Urkundenform, Paderborn, 1922 (Babylonia); V. Korosec, Hethitische Staatsvertri:ige. Bin Beitrag zur ihrer juristischen Wertung, Leipzig, 1931, esp. pp. 13ff. (Hittites); D. D. Luckenbill, Ancient Records of Assyria and Babylonia, Chicago, 1926, vol. 1, pp. 265-8 (Assyria); execrations: cf., e.g., the conclusion of the Merneptah stele (J. H. Breasted [ed.], Ancient Records of Egypt, Chicago, 1906, vol. 3, p. 264; and note also ANET, pp. 326-8); F. C. Fensham, 'Common Trends in Curses of the Near-Eastern Treaties and Kudurru-Inscriptions Compared with Maledictions of Amos and Isaiah', ZAW, 75 (1963): 173-4. On divinely-backed victory: e.g., Grayson, op. cit., esp. pp. 50ff., 121ff. (Chronicle 21, eighth century BCE); K. L. Younger Jr, Ancient Conquest Accounts (JSOT Suppl. Ser., 98), Sheffield, 1990, esp. pp. 67-124 (various); and see pp. 11, 16, etc. E. I. Gordon, Sumerian Proverbs (UPM Monographs), Philadelphia, 1959, nos 1, 79, 81-83, 156, etc.; Teaching of Amenemope (BM Pap. 10474), esp. iv; vi-vii; ix-xi (ANET, pp. 422-3); and of further relevance, Oppenheim, Ancient Mesopotamia: Portrait of a Dead Civilization, Chicago and London, 1964, ch. 4; B. Alster, Dumuzi's Dream: Aspects of Oral Poetry in a Sumerian Myth (Mes, 1), Copenhagen, 1972, pp. 52ff. See, e.g., Weidner Chron. 21, 27 (cf. H. G. Giiterbock, 'Die historische Tradition und ihr literarische Gestaltung bei Babyloniern und Hethitern: Teil 1', ZA, 42 (1934): 1-91); cf. 'plain' king lists: T. Jacobsen, The Sumerian King List, Chicago, 1939; Manetho, Aegypt.; E. K. Kitchen, 'The King List ofUgarit', UF, 9 {1977): 131-42.

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24. Kramer, 'Sumerian Historiography', IEJ, 3 (1953): 226; cf. 224-5. For comparisons: M. W. Green, 'The Uruk Lament', JAOS, 104/2 (1984): 275-7 (B.1ff.). 25. Esp. the treaty between Mursilis and Duppi-Tessub of Amurru: ANET, pp. 203-5 (c. 1600 BCE); cf. H. A. Hoffner, Jr, 'Histories and Historians of the Ancient Near East: The Hittites', Or, N.S., 49 (1980): 321 (Mursilis). For Thutmose's Victory Hymn: Breasted, op. cit., vol. 2, pp. 263, 265; see also E. Ebeling, Bruchstucke eines politischen Propagandagedichtes aus einer assyrischen Kanzlei (MAOG, 12.2), Leipzig, 1938, p. 2 and passim (Babylonian materials); cf. Griffiths, op. cit., chs 1, 7-8 (various). 26. Enuma Blish, esp. ii (ANET, p. 63) (Sumero-Akkadian); Yuzget Tablet: cf. T. Gaster (ed.), Thespis, New York, 1980, pp. 270-2 (Hittite); Horus-Seth Contest, esp. x-xiii (ANET, pp. 15-16) (Egyptian); Baal and Anath myth, hi*AB, esp. v (ANET, p. 141). Cf. B. Albrektson, History and the Gods (CB, OT Ser. I), Lund, 1967, esp. pp. 90-3; W. Lambert, 'Destiny and Divine Intervention in Babylon and Israel', OS, 17 (1972): 65ff. 27. Thus Kramer, Sumerians, p. 62; cf. idem, in ANET, pp. 648-50; or J. S. Cooper, The Curse of Agade, Baltimore, 1983, pp. 55-7, 59, esp. 11. 91-150, 200-2, clinching the point. Thus also J. J. M. Roberts, 'Myth versus History: Relaying the Comparative Foundations', CBQ, 38/1 (1976): 5, against H. Gese, 'Geschichtliches Denken im Alten Orient und im Alten Testament', ZThK, 44 (1958): 133. 28. See 0. Gurney, 'The Cuthean Legend ofNaram-Sin', AS, 5 (1955): 96; cf. J. van Seters, In Search of History, New Haven, 1983, p. 79 (on the relevant literature). 29. Van Seters, op. cit., pp. 114f.; cf. Giiterbock, art. cit., pt 2, ZA, 44 (1938): lOOf.; materials to compare with the proverbial literature: J. J. van Dijk, La sagesse Sumero-Accadienne (CO, 1), Leiden, 1953; Lambert, Babylonian Wisdom Literature, Oxford, 1960; cf. [Biblical] Proverbs. 30. Kramer, 'Sumerian Historiography', p. 232, n.45. 31. Kurigalzu and Adad-shuma-usur Epics: cf. Grayson, loc. cit., p. 187 and collections referred to there (regarding the neglect of Marduk's cult); Weidner Chron., in idem, op. cit., pp. 43-5, 145-51 (Chron. 19) (Kassite period); cf. Nabonidus stele 16.36 with E. A. Speiser, 'Ancient Mesopotamia', in R. C. Denton (ed.), The Idea of History in the Ancient Near East, New Haven and London, 1955, p. 60 (Assyrian period); Cyrus Cylinder, in ANET, p. 315 (Persian). For parallel Hittite material: Goetze, 'Die Pestgebete des Murshilish', KF, 1 (1927-30), pp. 167ff. 32. See Chapters 3-5 below. Telepinus, Apol.: cf. E. H. Sturtevant and G. Bechtel (eds and trans.), Hittite Chrestomathy (William Dwight Whitney Linguistic Series), Philadelphia, 1935, pp. 175-200; Hattusilis, Apol. 9-13: cf. W. H. McNeill and J. W. Sedlar (eds), The Ancient Near East (Readings in World History, 2), London, 1968, pp. 37-41 (with trans.); H. A. Hoffner, loc. cit., pp. 295-300. On Assyria: Esarhaddon, Apol. Nin A, I, 26-33, 55-7; cf. H. Tadmor and M. Weinfeld (eds), History, Historiography and Interpretation, Jerusalem, 1983, pp. 40-3, 53, etc.; M. Cogan, 'Gyges and Ashurbanipal: A Study in Literary Transmission', Or, 46 (1977): 79. On a later Persian example: see Darius' Behistun rock inscription, col. 1, 14 (cf. L. W. King and R. C. Thompson, The Sculptures and Inscription of Behistun, London, 1907).

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33. Lambert, 'History and the Gods: A Review Article', Or, 39 (1970): 175 (quotation). On 'over-empiricism': esp. Kramer, 'Sumerian Historiography', pp. 217-20; cf. R. Drews, 'The Babylonian Chronicles and Berossus', lr, 37 (1975): 39ff. 34. Cf. esp. J. J. Finkelstein, 'Mesopotamian Historiography', PAPS, 107 (1963): 466 (quotation), cf. 486ff. 35. Start with 0. Eissfeldt, The Old Testament: An Introduction (trans. P. Ackroyd), Oxford, 1965, pts 1-2. 36. Each of these books probably reflects a reliance on earlier proto-texts. For signs: see Josh 15:63, Judg 1:21, and note Deut 6:12-26. Cf. G. von Rad, Studies in Deuteronomy (trans. D. Stalker) (SBL, 9), London, 1953; C. A. Simpson, Composition of the Book of fudges, Oxford, 1957, esp. pp. 133ff. (recognizing Judg 17-21 as an old but not original part of the Deuteronomic work). The story of David is probably based on the first ('pseudo-secular') long historical narrative of them all, with the retributive motif subdued (c. 960s): see note 46 below. The relative extent of retributive interpretation in later royal annals (referred to in 1 Kings 14, 2 Kings 14, etc.) remains unknown. 37. Esp. M. Noth, Oberlieferungsgeschichtlich Studien, 1: Die sammelnden und bearbeitenden Geschichtswerke im Alten Testament, Halle, 1957 edn, esp. pp. 3ff., 110ff.; cf. P. Ackroyd, Exile and Restoration: A Study of Hebrew Thought of the Sixth Century BC (OTL), London, 1968, pp. 65ff.; G. N. Knoppers, Two Nations Under God, Atlanta, 1993, 2 vols. 38. For preliminary orientation: F. Galindo Morene, Historiographia Biblica, Bogota, 1984. 39. As later Jewish commentaries also testify, though without the assumption that the laws shown to be broken were confined to Deuteronomy. Cf. J. Neusner, Midrash in Context, Philadelphia, 1983; H. Mack, The Aggadic Midrash Literature, Tel Aviv, 1989. 40. Trompf, The Idea of Historical Recurrence in Western Thought, Berkeley, 1979, vol. 1, pp. 156-7. 41. Also, on 2 Sam 21:14b here, cf., e.g., H. W. Hertzberg, I and II Samuel: A Commentary (trans. J. S. Bowden) (OTL), London, 1964, p. 385. 42. Saul was probably a more successful king than the Deuteronomist(s) made him out to be. See esp. 1 Sam 13 -14; cf. T. Koizumi, 'On the Battle of Gilboa', AJBI, 2 (1976): 67. On Saul's disobedience over Amalek: see von Rad, Der heilige Krieg im alten Israel, Gottingen, 1968. 43. Trompf, 'Notions of Historical Recurrence in Classical Hebrew Historiography', in J. A. Emerton (ed.), Studies in the Historical Writings of the Old Testament (Supplements to VT, 30), Leiden, 1979, pp. 222f. On Deuteronomic connections with the 'Gilgash School's' cycle of stories about Elijah and Elisha: J. N. M. Wijngaards, The Dramatization of Salvific History in the Deuteronomic Schools (OS, 16), Leiden, 1959, pp. 58ff.; cf. Noth, Uberlief Stud., op. cit., p. 80. 44. Josiah, furthermore, removed the golden calf erected by Jeroboam I at Bethel (2 Kings 23:15). The Deuteronomist's information about Hezekiah's reforms may be sparse (2 Kings 18:4; cf. 2 Chron 30:1-27; 31:2-21), but the latter's worthiness as a monarch is accentuated (2 Kings 18:3; 19:1-4, 15-35). Cf. J. Rosenbaum, 'Hezekiah's Reform and the Deuteronomic Tradition', HTR, 72/ 1-2 (1979): 34-6.

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45. Two heinous sins include adultery with Bathsheba and devising murder (2 Sam 12:11-14; 1 Kings 15:5b) and taking a census of Israel (2 Sam 24:1; cf. Num 1:45-47, om. Deut- but see 18:1). On avoiding blood-guilt:, 1 Sam 24:6; 25:26; 26:9-10; 29:16-19; 2 Sam 4:10-12; 9:3-8; 21:1-7; 1 Kings 2:31-33; 19:22b; 20:3b. 46. Thus L. Rost, 'Die Dberlieferung von der Thronnachfolge Davids' (1926), repr. in his Das kleine Credo und andere Studien zum Alten Testament, Heidelberg, 1965, pp. 119-253; qualified by T. Ishida, 'Solomon's Succession to the Throne of David', in idem, Studies in the Period of David and Solomon, and Other Essays (Papers read at the International Symposium for Biblical Studies, Tokyo, 5-7 December 1979), Winona Lake, 1982, pp. 175-87 and nn. 1-3. 47. Cf. esp. D. E. Gowan, 'Losing the Promised Land - the Old Testament Considers the Inconceivable', in D. Y. Hadidian (ed.), From Faith to Faith (D. G. Miller Festschrift) (PTM, 31), Pittsburgh, 1979, esp. pp. 252-5. 48. Following H. Wolff, 'Das Kerygma des deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerke', ZAW, 73 (1961): 35-50 (cf. F. M. Cross, Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic, Cambridge, MA, 1973, pp. 287-9), rather than M. Noth, 'La catastrophe de Jerusalem en I'an 587 avant Jesus Christ et sa signification pour Israel', RHPhR, 23 (1953): 87ff., in which the stress is more on doom. 49. Cf. von Rad, 'The Deuteronomic Theology of History in I and II Kings', in his The Problem of the Hexateuch, and Other Essays (trans. E. W. T. Dicken), Edinburgh, 1966, pp. 214-15. 50. For details and relevant literature: Trompf, 'Redaction Criticism and the Rhetoric of Retribution: Comments on the Book of Joshua', in M. Blackman, F. Muecke and M. Sankey (eds), The Textual Condition: Rhetoric and Editing (Papers of the 1993 ASPACLS Conference), Sydney, 1995, p. 181; M. Ottosson, fosua-boken - en programskrift for davidist restauration (AUU, 1), Uppsala, 1991, pp. 263-74. Cf. D. Daube, The Exodus Pattern of the Bible (ASS, 2), Oxford, 1963, p. 11. 51. The archaeological data reveal that the takeover was far messier, and as early as Josh 13:16-17 we learn that the whole land has not been captured after all. And the lists of the possessor tribes and their members look too organized, elaborate and post factum (even from 13:8: cf. Noth, 'Studien zu den historischgeographischen Dokumenten des Josuabuches', ZdPV, 58 [1935]: 185ff.; cf. also Deut 3: 12-17), in an attempt to depict a 'golden age' of military success: J. M. Miller and J. H. Hayes, A History of Ancient Israel and Judah, London, 1986, p. 58. Cf. also Judg 2:21-23; 3:1, 4, where the later loss of land was anticipated as a lesson by allowing nations to retain an existence earlier - an unusual view of outcomes in antiquity (cf. Chapter 8 below on Orosius). 52. The best example of selectivity is the very brief treatment of the northerner Omri's internationally important reign, which is deemed evil (1 Kings 16:16-30; cf. Mic 6:16- yet note ANET, pp. 280-5, 320). 53. See F. M. Cross, op. cit., pp. 286-9; W. Zimmerli, The Law and the Prophets (trans. R. E. Clements), New York, 1963, ch. 4; cf. N. Gottwald, The Hebrew Bible: A Socio-Literary Introduction, Philadelphia, 1985, pp. 370-2, on a possible prototypical (and 'triumphalist'?) Deuteronomic history as early as the reign of the reformer Josiah.

40

Early Christian historiography

54. E.g. Josh 12:2-26; 1 Kings 14:10, 21-22, 25-26; 15:29; 16:10; 22:34-35; 2 Kings 1:15-17; 9:30-37; 10:27, 32; 13:22-23 (not delayed); 1 Sam 2:34; 8:4-22; 1 Kings 11:39; 14:10-18; cf. Deut 17:14-17 (delayed). 55. Bear in mind those readers: their 'reading' may most commonly have been public reading to be heard by the non-literate. 56. B. H. Epstein (ed.), HaTorah Temimah, vol. 2, Jerusalem, n.d., s.v., MT Exod 21:37, pp. 137/272. 57. M. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, Oxford, 1972; R. N. Whybray, The Making of the Pentateuch: A Methodological Study (JSOT Suppl. Ser., 53), Sheffield [1987]; and for background, von Rad, 'Typologische Auslegung des Alten Testaments' (1952/3), in his Gesammelte Studien zum Alten Testament, II (ThB, 48), Munich, 1973, esp. p. 278; cf. J. Pedersen, Israel, vol. 1, esp. pp. 378-452; vol. 2, pp. 1-32; C. North, The Old Testament Interpretation of History, London, 1946, ch. 2; R. Smend, 'Tradition and History: A Complex Relation', in D. A. Knight (ed.), Tradition and Theology in the Old Testament, London, 1977, esp. pp. 49-56; S. Bigger, 'Genesis: History or Story?' in idem (ed.), Creating the Old Testament, Oxford, 1989, p. 115; cf. R. L. Fox's provocative The Unauthorized Version, New York, 1992, ch. 12. 58. F. Lindstrom, Suffering and Sin: Interpretations of Illness in Individual Complaint Psalms (CB, Old Testament Ser., 37), Stockholm, 1994, ch. 5; E. Beauchamp, 'Justice divin et pardon', in Ala rencontre de Dieu (Memorial Albert Gelin), Le Puig, 1961, pp. 129ff. (Psalms); cf. E. F. Sutcliffe, The Old Testament and the Future Life (BS, 8) [London], 1946, pp. 157ff. (Qoheleth). 59. For background: e.g., P. D. Hanson, The Dawn of Apocalyptic, Philadelphia, 1979 edn, esp. chs 2, 4. 60. On compositional issues and questions of 1 and 2 Chronicles, Ezra and Nehemiah: esp. A. S. Kapelrud, 'The Question of Authorship in the EzraNarrative: A Lexical Investigation', in his Skrifter utgitt av det Norske VidenskapsAkademi, Oslo, 1944, esp. pp. 95-7; S. Japhet, 'The Supposed Common Authorship of Chronicles and Ezra-Nehemiah Investigated Anew', VT, 18 (1968): 330ff.; D. N. Freedman, 'The Chronicler's Purpose', CBQ, 23 (1961): 440; J. R. Porter, 'Old Testament Historiography', in G. W. Anderson (ed.), Tradition and Interpretation, Oxford, 1979, p. 154. I suspect that most contradictions between 1-2 Chronicles and Ezra-Nehemiah derived from the unfinished nature of the latter, involving the use of unedited autobiographical materials at Ezra 8:19-9:15 and Neh 1:1-7:5. 61. Read the following analysis in conjunction with I. Kalimi, Zur Geschichtsschreibung des Chronisten. Literarisch-historiographische Abweichungen der Chronik von ihren Paralleltexten in Samuel- und Konigsbuchern (BZAW, 226), Berlin, 1995 (more historical details). For 'whitewashing': note the absence of the Bathsheba scandal, Nathan's criticism, and Solomon's misdeeds in the second half of his reign (his [fewer] foreign wives are placed at a distance from Jerusalem's centre [2 Chron 8:11; but cf. Neh 13:26]). Cf. Trompf, 'Notions', pp. 215-16, 224-5. Note also the Chronicler's playing down of the significance of Saul and his house: R. Mosis, Untersuchungen zur Theologie des chronistischen Geschichtswerkes (FTS, 92), Freiburg, 1973, esp. p. 22; Ackroyd, 'The Chronicler as Exegete', JSOT, 2 (1977): 3-5; and the necessary glossing over of the

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62.

63.

64. 65. 66. 67. 68.

69. 70. 71.

72.

73. 74. 75.

41

monarchy's obvious absence at the restoration after the Exile: so idem, 'History and Theology in the Writings of the Chronicler', CTM, 28 (1967): 511. A. C. Welch, The Work of the Chronicler: Its Purpose and Its Date (Schweich Lectures 1938), London, 1939, ch. 3; R. Mosis, op. cit.; cf. M. D. Goulder, Midrash and Lection in Matthew (Speakers Lectures), London, 1974, ch. 10. Note also the concern with genealogies in the paralleled early and later stages (1 Chron 1-10; Ezra 10:16-44; Neh 7:5-73; 10:1-12, 26); cf. M. D. Johnson, The Purpose of Biblical Genealogies (SNTSM, 8), Cambridge, 1969. Trompf, 'Notions', pp. 224-7. On the Chronicler's revisions to the Deuteronomist in consequence: W. E. Lemke, 'The Synoptic Problem in the Chronicler's History', HTR, 58/4 (1965): 350ff.; T. Willi, Die Chronik als Auslegung: Untersuchungen zur literarischen Gestaltung der historischen Uberlieferung Israels (FRLANT, 106), Gottingen, 1972, esp. p. 66; cf. Kalimi, op. cit. H. G. M. Williamson, Israel in the Book of Chronicles, Cambridge, 1977, p. 67. See above, Introduction; and cf. Trompf, 'Notions', pp. 227-9. Thus the great J. Wellhausen, Prolegomena to the History of Israel (trans. J. S. Black and A. Menzies), Edinburgh, 1895, p. 207. Cf. J. Goldingay, 'The Chronicler as a Theologian', BTB, 5 (1975): 122. I.e., Theodotion (in his Greek version of the Bible, as found next to the LXX in Origen's Hexapla), which may be from an earlier Hebrew version independent of the Masoretic tradition. For the issues: S. Jellicoe, The Septuagint and Modern Study, Oxford, 1968, pp. 292-3; Williamson, op. cit., ch. 3. Which also contains the perspective of world history as Israel conceived it, since it begins with Adam: cf. J. M. Myres, I Chronicles (AB), New York, 1965, pp. xli-xlii, xlix-liii, etc. Williamson (op. cit., p. 63) rightly views the Chronicler's main genealogical line from 1 Chron 1:34 as a 'chain of elected saints' as found with the Samaritans: cf. J. Macdonald, The Theology of the Samaritans (NTL), London, 1964, p. 277. Through Hezekiah, according to the Chronicler, Israel is in a sense reunited with Judah after the Assyrian onslaught (2 Chron 30:1a; 31:1b; 34:21; 35:18). Through exile, however, only a remnant has been saved to reveal God's justice: Ezra 9:13b; 15a; Neh 10:31; cf. 2 Chron 30:6; Isa 10:21; Jer 31:7; Ezek 6:8; and see H. H. Rowley, The Biblical Doctrine of Election (Louisa Curtis Lectures 1948), London, 1950; G. F. Hasel, The Remnant (AUM, 5), Berrien Springs, 1972, for reflections. W. Eichrodt, Theology of the Old Testament (trans. ]. Baker) (OTL), London, 1961-5; G. Ostborn, Yahweh's Words and Deeds: A Preliminary Study into the Old Testament Representation of History (UUA, 7), Uppsala, 1951; ]. Barton, 'Natural Law and Poetic Justice in the Old Testament', JTS, 30/1 (1979): esp. 10-13, questioning K. Koch, 'Gibt es ein Vergeltungsdogma im Alten Testament?', ZThK, 52 ( 1955): 1ff.; cf. idem (ed.), Urn das Prinzip der Verge/tung, op. cit. Cf. I. L. Seeligmann, 'Menschliches Heldentum und gottliche Hilfe: die doppelte Kausalitat im alttestamentlichen Geschichtsdenken', ThZ, 19 (1963): esp. 385. On 1 Enoch's provenance in the third century BCE: esp. M. Stone, 'The Book of Enoch and Judaism in the Third Century B.C.E.', CBQ, 40/4 (1978): 479-92. On Nemesis: e.g., Hesiod, Erga, 200; cf. W. Fauth, KP, vol. 4, col. 48, s.v.; on the Erinyes: e.g., Homer, Iliad, XIX, 259; cf. W. M. Ramsay, Asianic Elements in

42

76.

77.

78. 79.

80.

81.

82.

83. 84.

Early Christian historiography Greek Civilization (Gifford Lectures 1915-16), London, 1927, ch. 5; L. R. Farnell, The Cults of Greek States, Oxford, 1909, vol. 5, pp. 438-9; B. C. Dietrich, Death, Fate and the Gods, London, 1965; on Moirai/Moira: e.g., Hesiod, Theog., 904; cf. Homer, Iliad, XVI, 433; Odyss., III, 236. On Tyche: see E. Taubler, Tyche: historische Studien, Leipzig, 1926, esp. pp. 52-9; cf. the Delphic t:VX17V v611t~e, I Kyzik. II, 2, col. 1, no. 6 (IG, vol. 12/3, no. 1020); and behind the Roman fortuna: J. Champeaux, Fortuna, Rome, 1982, vol. 1. On Zeus: e.g., Homer, Iliad, Ill, 276; IV, 157, 235; XV, 90ff.; cf. E. Crawley, Oath, Curse, and Blessing, and Other Studies in Origins (ed. T. Besterman) (The Thinker's Library, 40), London, 1934, pp. 54-6; K. Kerenyi, Zeus and Hera (trans. C. Holme), London, 1975, chs 2-3; H. Lloyd-Jones, The Justice of Zeus, Berkeley and London, 1971, ch. 1 and p. 161; on Dike: H. Frisch, Might and Right in Antiquity: 'Dike' 1 (Humanitas, 2), Copenhagen, 1949, ch. 2; on Dionysos: e.g., Nonnus, Dionysiaka, 21-40; cf. P. McGinty, 'Dionysos' Revenge and the Validation of the Hellenic World-View', HTR, 71/1-2 (1978): esp. 77-8. For background: M. Douglas, Purity and Danger: An Analysis of Concepts of Pollution and Taboo, Harmondsworth, 1970 edn, esp. ch. 3 (with caution); cf. M. Visser, 'Worship Your Enemy: Aspects of the Cult of Heroes in Ancient Greece', HTR, 75 (1982): 403-5 (on neglected aspects). Frg. 1 (Diels-Kranz) = 112 (Kirk-Raven). Frgs 218-219 (Kirk-Raven) and Frg. 80 (Diels-Kranz) = 62 (Bywater); cf. esp. Frgs 30-31, 90 (Diels-Kranz) = 200, 221-222 (Kirk-Raven)= 20-22 (Bywater); cf. Empedocles, Frg. 462 (Kirk-Raven). For background, see Homer, Iliad, IV, 4409-41; Hesiod, Erga, 804; Theog., 225ff. Plato, Leg., X, 893b-896d; cf. Phaedr., 246dff.; Phaed., 73cff.; Gorg., 523aff. For background: W. K. C. Guthrie, Orpheus and Greek Religion: A Study of the Orphic Movement, London, 1952 edn, pp. 156ff. (Orphics); Pythagoras, Frg. 271 (Kirk-Raven); Empedocles, Frgs 115 (Diels-Kranz); 486 (Kirk-Raven). F. M. Cornford, From Religion to Philosophy, New York, 1957 edn, chs 1-2; Thucydides Mythhistoricus, London, 1965 (on philosophy, with caution). Playwrights, handling characters from the past, tend to accentuate the sense of necessity or inevitability more than historians: e.g., E. R. Dodds, 'Morals and Politics in the Oresteia', in The Ancient Concept of Progress, and Other Essays on Greek Literature and Belief, Oxford, 1985 edn, pp. 51, 55-7; D. A. Hester, 'Law and Piety in the Antigone', WS, 14 (1980): 5-8; idem, 'To Help One's Friends and Harm One's Enemies: A Study in the Oedipus at Colonus', Ant, 11 (1977): 22-33 (playwrights). Diodorus Siculus, Bibliot. IX, x, 3, on the Delphic maxim 'nothing in excess' (cf. Theognis, 335; Pindar, Frg. 235, etc.); Anon. Pythagorean in Anaximander, Akous. kai symb., Frg. 6 (Diels-Kranz, vol. 1, p. 465, 1. 23); Aristotle, Eth. Nic. II, ix, lff. E.g., Homer, Iliad, V, 4-44; Pindar, Olymp. Odes, II, 35-42; Theognis, 605ff., 653ff.; Herodotus, Hist., I, 206ff.; VIII, 99ff.; Thucydides, Hist., III, 82(8); Timaeus, Frg. 155 (Jacoby, FGH, pt IIIB, p. 644), etc. Trompf, Recurrence, vol. 1, p. 86; cf. Heraclitus, esp. Frgs 43-44, 110-112, 116; cf. 33, 118 (Diels-Kranz) = 100, 103-107; cf. 73-76, 110 (Bywater).

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85. Thus J. L. Myres, Herodotus, Father of History, Oxford, 1953, and also R. G. Collingwood, The Idea of History, Oxford, 1946, pp. 14-31. 86. See esp. B. A. van Groningen, 'Over het ordenen verbrand in Herodotus' Historien', in Exuli arnica Huizinga amici non historici, Haarlem, 1948, pp. 41ff. 87. See also K. Reinhardt, 'Herodots Persegeschichte', in his Von Werken und Formen, Godesburg, 1948, pp. 222f. (Herodotus being long known to use speeches for conveying his viewpoints: Marcellinus, Vit. Thucyd.). 88. Herodotus does not know of Xerxes' death. Signs of Graeco-Roman interest in his unhappy end, in any case, emerge only as late as Pompei us Trogus [on my reckoning] apud Justin, Epit. Hist. Philip. Pomp. Trag., III, i, and Orosius, Hist. adv. pagan., II, 11. Cf. Diodorus Siculus, Bibliot., XI, lxix; Plutarch, Artax., i-ii (do older sources perhaps underlie them? cf. Thucydides, Hist., I, 137-8), without strong suggestions of retribution. For the different, glorifying version of Xerxes' disappearance into mystic waters: M. A. H. Vidyarthi, Mohammad in World Scriptures, Lahore, 1940, p. 29 (cf. Shah Nameh, xxxii). 89. Here Herodotus shows signs of building on the regional histories of Ionian predecessors (esp. at V, 15-26; VI, 137-8): see L. Pearson, Early Ionian Historians, Oxford, 1939, chs 1-3 (with bibliography, pp. 106ff.); F. Diamond, Hecataeus of Abdera: A New Historical Approach, Ann Arbor, 1974. 90. Cf. 0. Regenbogen, 'Die Geschichte von Solon und Krosus', in W. Marg (ed.), Herodot: eine Auswahl aus der neuern Forschung, Munich, 1962, esp. pp. 380-2. 91. See W. W. How and J. Wells, Commentary on Herodotus, Oxford and New York, 1928 edn, vol. 1, intro. Critiques of Herodotus start in antiquity: cf., e.g., Plutarch, De Herod. malign. 92. See F. Jacoby, 'Griechische Geschichtsschreibung', in H. Bloch (ed.), Abhandlungen zur griechischen Geschichtsschreibung von Felix Jacoby (Felix Jacoby Festschrift), Leiden, 1956, p. 86; cf. Trompf, 'The Colonial Basis of Athenian Imperialism', MJH, 1 (1961): 45ff. 93. As early but loosely argued by C. C. J. Bunsen, God in History (trans. S. Winkworth), London, 1868, vol. 1, chs 1-8; vol. 2, bk 4, chs 12-17; cf. recent, tighter work by A. W. H. Adkins, Moral Values and Political Behaviour in Ancient Greece: From Homer to the End of the Fifth Century, London, 1972, esp. pp. 99ff. 94. M. ]. Apthorp, 'Aeschylus: "The Persians"' (unpublished mimeograph, University of Cape Town) Cape Town, [1970], esp. pp. 20, 28 (by kind permission). 95. See van Groningen, In the Grip of the Past: An Essay on an Aspect of Greek Thought (PA, 6), Leiden, 1953, p. 39. 96. See E. Powell, A Lexicon to Herodotus, Cambridge, 1938, s.v. blx17, -rlm~, TLJ-lWQl"l, .7rotv1], etc. 97. Thus H. Lloyd-Jones, op. cit., p. 62, cf. pp. 61ff.; Herodotus, Hist., I, 53ff.; VII, 46-52. 98. Pace C. N. Cochrane, Christianity and Classical Culture, New York, 1957 edn, pp. 456-68; cf. the warnings of C. G. Starr, The Awakening of the Greek Historical Spirit, New York, 1968, pp. 59-60. 99. See esp. H. R. Immerwahr, Form and Thought in Herodotus (PM, 33), Atlanta, 1966, pp. 153ff. 100. K. von Fritz, Grundproblem der Geschichte der antiken Wissenschaft, Berlin,

44

101.

102. 103.

104.

105. 106.

107.

108. 109. 110. 111.

Early Christian historiography 1971, pp. 208ff., 243ff., 442ff.; cf. K. Latte, 'Die Anfange der griechischen Geschichtsschreibung', EFH, 4 ( 1956): 1ff. Esp. I, 88ff.; II, 48-54; III, 36-49, 82-4; V, 85-113; VI, 61ff.; VII, 71; cf. I, 76; IV, 61; V, 105. For relevant assessments: C. N. Cochrane, Thucydides and the Science of History, London, 1929, ch. 1; P. Huart, Le vocabulaire de l'analyse psychologique dans l'oeuvre de Thucydide (EC, 69), Paris, 1968, pp. 9ff.; A. G. Woodhouse, Thucydides on the Nature of Power (Martin Classical Lectures), Cambridge, MA, 1970. On speeches, esp. Hist., I, 22: cf. A. W. Gomme, A Historical Commentary on Thucydides, Oxford, 1945, vol. 1, pp. 143-8. Following J. H. Finley, 'The Unity of Thucydides' History', in Athenian Studies (toW. S. Ferguson), Cambridge, MA, 1940, pp. 284-9. Early in Thucydides' wake, Theopompus was self-avowedly didactic: van Groningen, Grip, p. 28, and see FGH, pt 1, vol. 2B, esp. Frgs 90-96; cf. W. R. Connor, Theopompus and Fifth Century Athens, Washington, 1968, pp. 36f.; M. A. Flower, Theopompus of Chios, Oxford, 1995. More generally on postThucydidean historiography: Trompf, Recurrence, chs 2, 4. Cf., e.g., Xenophon, Hellen., V, i, 4; iii, 7, etc.; Ages.; Cyropaed. Cf. also H. D. Westlake, Essays on Greek Historians and Greek History, Manchester, 1969, p. 207; A. Momigliano, The Development of Greek Biography: Four Lectures, Cambridge, MA, 1971. On hero literature: L. R. Farnell, Greek Hero Cults and Ideas of Immortality, Oxford, 1921 [1970 repr.]; U. Pause-Dreyer, Die Heroen des trojanischen Krieges auf griechischen Miinzen (pub. doctoral dissertation, Ludwig-Maximilians-Universitat), Munich, 1975, pp. 18-89. In Livy, Ab urb. cond., II, 40 (adapted quotation); cf. M. Gelzer, 'Romische Politik bei Fabius Pictor', in his Kleine Schriften, Wiesbaden, 1964, vol. 3, pp. 51ff.; Momigliano, Alien Wisdom, London, 1975, pp. 18, 92. Esp. M. Budinger, Die Universalhistorie im Alterthume, Vienna, 1895; G. L. Barber, The Historian Ephorus, Cambridge, 1935. Regarding Alexander's conquests here: Taubler, op. cit., pp. 1-16; C. W. Fornara, The Nature of History in Ancient Greece and Rome, Berkeley and London, 1983, pp. 42-6. For Stoic, anti-Epicurean touches in Polybius: e.g., I, lxiii, 9 (which does not contradict I, iv, 1); X, ii, 5; v, 8; XVIII, xii, 2; XXXII, viii, 4; cf. X, iii, 7; vii, 3; XXXI, xxx, 3. Others before Polybius who take fortune as moral governess include, e.g., Anaximenes of Lampsacus, Frg. 11b.15 (FGH, vol. 2A, p. 120); Theophrastus, Frg. 7 (Wimmer edn); Demetrius of Phalerum, Frg. 81 (Wehrli edn, pp. 22f.) = Diodorus, Bibliot., XXXI, x, 1-2 (cf. Pedech, La methode historique de Polybe [CEA], Paris, 1964, p. 332); Philinus, behind Diodorus, XXII, xiii, 1-9. Cf. Panaetius of Rhodes (Panaetii Rhodi fragmenta, ed. M. van Straaten [PA, 5], Leiden, 1952), Frgs 2, 15-16, 21; Cicero, De re pub., I, xxi, 34. See A. E. Austin, Scipio Aemilianus, Oxford, 1967, pp. 294ff. Esp. F. Pedech, op. cit., pp. 54ff., 75ff.; cf. also idem (ed.), Polybe: Histoire livre XII, Paris, 1961. [Note: Books XVII and XXXVII of Polybius are entirely lost.] Trompf, Recurrence, op cit., pp. 97-105. F. W. Walbank, 'Polybius,.Philinus and the First Punic War', CQ, 39 (1945): 10 (cf. Diodorus, Bibliot., XXIII, xv, 1-6) (though for changed views); A

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112.

113. 114.

115. 116. 117. 118.

119.

120.

121.

122. 123. 124. 125.

45

Historical Commentary on Polybius, Oxford, 1957, vol. 1, p. 93; cf. J.P. Balsdon, 'Some Questions About Historical Writing in the Second Century BC', CQ, 47 (1953): 159, n. 2. On Fortune less 'morally engaged': IX, viii (Epaminondas); XXIII, xii, 3-4 (Philopoemen); IX, viii, 13-ix, 1 (Hannibal); XXIII, xii, 31-4 (general); cf. many other related passages: X, xxxvii, 4; xl, 6; XI, xix, 5; XV, vi, 6; XXIII, xii, 3; xxix, 3; cf. XII, via, 2-3; VI, xliii, 3; XV, ii, 13-15 (wvro,ua-rovbeing used instead of Tyche in III, xcvii, 5; XV, xxix, 5; XVIII, xii, 2; XXII, iv, 3; XXXI, xxv, 10). On alternations during the First Punic War: Trompf, Recurrence, op. cit., pp. 88-91. II, xxxviii, 6; xlii, 3; yet cf. XXIV, x, 8-10, etc.; and see A. Roveri, Studi su Polibio (SPIFC, 17), Bologna, 1964, p. 129. E.g., II, iv, 6; xx, 7; vii, 4-12; viii, 13; xix, 9; III, iii, 5; IV, iii, 5, 10-13; xvi, 4; xvii, 10-12; xix, 13-xx, 3; xxv, 4ff.; xxvii, 1-10; xxxv, 3f.; lxii, 2ff.; V, ix, 1-4; x, 8; VII, xiv, 3; IX, xxx, 6; XIII, xi, Iff.; XV, i, 7f.; XXII, xvii, 5; XXIII, xi, 1-6; XXX, xxvi, Sf.; XXXII, XV, 1-14. Apud Zosimus, Hist. nov., I, i, 1 (from the Polybian 'archaeology' of Rome's polity in Hist., VI? Cf. F. Taeger, Die Archaeologie des Polybios, Stuttgart, 1922). Frg. 28 (157] (Shuckburgh); cf. K. F. Eisen, Polybiosinterpretationen: Beobachtungen zu Prinzipien griechischer und romisi:her Historiographie bei Polybios, Heidelberg, 1966. Also cf. I, lxxiv, 1-3; II, vii, 1-4; XV, xxi, 1-4 (on non-Roman generals); X, xxxii, 7-12 (on Marcellus). For background: von Fritz, The Theory of the Mixed Constitution in Antiquity: A Critical Analysis of Polybius' Political Ideas, New York, 1954; E. Graeber, Die Lehre von der Mischverfassung bei Polybios (SRP, 52), Bonn, 1968; Trompf, Recurrence, op cit., ch. 1. XVIII, xxxvi, 5; xxxvii, 12 (international dealings); VI, xxxvii, 12; liv, 4; lv, 5; cf. I, xvii, 1; III, lxxv, 8; IX, iii, 6 (soldiery); VI, ii, 5-7; cf. III, lxxxv, 10; cxviii, 9 (adaptiveness); XXI, xxii, 5-xx:iii, 12 (liberationism); X, xv, 4 (condoning killings). On Fabius: see above, p. 27; and for Polybius' use of him: Hist., III, viii, 1; ix, 1. On moderation: esp. X, ii, Sf., 13; iii, 1; xxxiii, 1-3; XV, xvi, 6; (but cf. Frg. XC [161]; and see Dio Cassius, Hist. Rom., XXI, xxvii, 5). On virtue and retributive issues: esp. V, lxxxviii, 3; X, xxxiii, 2-7; Frg. XXX (184). I have been criticized by Walbank (in his review of my Recurrence in CP, 78 (1983]: 85) for speculating that for Polybius the silting up of the Euxine Sea (Hist. VI, xlii, 4, 6; xl, 5, 8-9, 10; xlii, 4; and esp. xliii, 2) bolstered this legitimacy in geo-cosmic terms. I am now duly abashed. If Diodorus reflects him as a source (Bibliot., XXX, x, 1), Polybius ascribed Perseus' momentary victory to Tyche. See Pedech, 'Introduction', to Polybe, pp. xxii, xxxi for discussion. Cf. Longinus, Peri Hyps., 4. XIII, v, 4-6; XXIII, x, 2-16; XXXI, ix, 1-4; XXXIII, vii, 1-3; cf. also XV, xxvia, 1-2 (Agathocles the rebellious minister to Ptolemy IV); XXVIII, liv, 6-12 (Scopas the Aetolian); cf. XIV, v, 1; xiv, 4; XV, xxva, 15; XVI, xxxix, 1-2, etc. Some other writers considered that if someone was at the mercy of fortune it

46

126.

127. 128.

129. 130. 131. 132. 133.

134. 135. 136.

Early Christian historiography would be difficult to see how justice could be satisfied: e.g., Aeschines, On the Embassy, ll8, 183; Seneca, Epist. moral., XCVIII, 1-6; cf. VIII, 3f.; LXIII, 7-ll; CXIII, 27f.; De tranquil., xvi, 3; Fronto, De eloquent., I, 9; cf. Pedech, Methode, op. cit., p. 74, nn. 105ff., pp. 33lff. Romances and Utopias: e.g., L. Pearson, Lost Histories of Alexander (PM, 20), New York and Oxford, 1960, chs 2, 8 (on Callisthenes, Clitarchus); E. Rohde, Die griechische Roman und seiner Vorliiufer, Darmstadt, 1960 edn, chs 2, 4; J. Ferguson, Utopias of the Classical World (AGRL), London, 1975, esp. ch. 14. Cosmic sympathy: W. L. Knox, St Paul and the Church of the Gentiles, Cambridge, 1939, ch. 1; cf. (on eclipses), e.g., Livy, Ab urb. cond., I, 16, etc., earlier; and increasingly later: XXIV, 21; XXXVII, 4; XLIV, 37, etc.; Plutarch, e.g., Vit. Romul., xxvii, 6; Caes., lxix, 6; Chaeremon of Alexandria, apud Origen, Contr. Cels., i, 58. V. Ehrenberg, Man, State and Deity, London, 1974, ch. 6. E.g., on the Deuteronomist: esp. E. Janssen, Juda in der Exilszeit (FRLANT, N.F. 51), Gottingen, 1956, p. 65, n. 2; on Thucydides, Hist., I, 22[4]; III, 82[2], 84): cf. Gomme, op. cit., vol. 1, pp. 149f.; P. J. Fliess, Thucydides and the Politics of Bi-Polarity, Baton Rouge, 1966. See R. Drews, 'Diodorus and His Sources', AJP, 87 (1962): 385 (quotation), and Chapter 2 below. On the Jews: start with R. H. Pfeiffer, History of New Testament Times, with an Introduction to the Apocrypha, London, 1949, pt 1, sects 1:2-3. A. Grayson, '[Histories and Historians of the Ancient Near East:] Assyria and Babylon', Or, N.S. 49 (1980): 184. For an Egyptian parallel (Demotic Chron., third century BCE): Griffiths, op. cit., p. 176. As with the Gallic/Celtic Trogus, apud Justin, Epit., XLI, i; cf. J. B. Swain, The Theory of the Four World Monarchies: Opposition History Under the Roman Empire', CP, 35 (1940): 1-13. Against which Theodotus the Samaritan historian later reacted in his Peri loud., apud Eusebius, Praep. Evang., ix, 22 (cf. also both Alexander Polyhistor and Josephus, with commentary by J. J. Collins, 'The Epic of Theodotus and the Hellenism of the Hasmoneans', HTR, 73/1-2 [1980]: 91-7). Cf. also a recovered Samaritan Apocalypse (c. 175 BCE) favouring Greek rule, in Asatir, xi, finis: cf. R. B6id, Studies in Samaritan Theology of the New Testament Period (SHR), Leiden, 1999. For useful background, Williamson, 'Eschatology in Chronicles', TB, 28 (1977): 131. Cf. J. A. Goldstein, I Maccabees (AB, 41), Garden City, NY, 1976, ch. 6. E.g., Shu Ching, Yin 4; T'ang 1, Chou 1 (using J. Legge trans., rev. C. Waltham, Chicago, 1971, pp. 61-2, 67-8, 113-14). Cf. also, on the relationship between Chinese divination and historiography, B. Hendrischke, 'How the Celestial Master Proves Heaven Reliable', in G. Naundorf, K.-H. Pohl and H. H. Schmidt (eds), Religion und Philosophie in Ost-Asien (Hans Steininger Festschrift), Heidelberg, 1985, pp. 77ff.; cf. R. De Crespigny, Portents of Protest in the Later Han Dynasty (OM, 15), Canberra, 1976.

2

The first Christian historian: Luke and his two books

God shall bring every work into judgement. Ecclesiastes 12: 14

The teaching of forgiveness is central to the Christian message. The New Testament Jesus of Nazareth stands as the perfect embodiment of goodwill in his new injunction to love even one's enemies, in his claim that the old Torah and the Prophets 'hung' on deep love (verb ::10~), 1 in his ministry of care, and above all in his act of self-giving on the cross (especially Matt 5:44, 22:40; John 15:13). Jesus the Christ forgave sins, preached patient forebearance of others' faults, encouraged self-criticism and mercy before blame, and even asked God to forgive his crucifiers (especially Mark 2:5; Matt 7:1-5; 18:21-22; Luke 23:34). His disciples were expected to 'take up their own crosses' of non-violent activism, recognizing that his charge to 'love one's neighbour as oneself entailed eschewing revenge (cf., e.g., Mark 8:34; James 2:8; 4:1-12; 1 Pet 3:9; Rom 12:19; 13:8, 10). The new faith meant practising deeper-than-ordinary friendship and rejecting social partialities; it called for a spirit of reconciliation and loving-kindness, even a willingness not to judge one's persecutors (John 15:14-15; James 2:1-7; 2 Cor 5:18, 21; Col 3:5-17; Eph 4:32; Acts 7:60). 2 These are acclaimedly the highest points in the history of human conciliation. But wait - are there not more strident notes in the New Testament's pages? Consider the book of Revelation, for a start: might it not be a kind of vindictive 'self-glorification of the weak'? 3 A facile inference, perhaps, yet at least the suggestion impels us to think back to those New Testament projections of post-mortem punishment for evildoers. If a Torahbreaker is put to death on the basis of two or three witnesses, the Letter to the Hebrews has it, surely those who spurn the Son of God 'will receive a fittingly worse punishment' (xei(.Jovoat exfma]aew~) upon the contumacious Jews or 'this people' (Luke 21:22, 23b). For Luke it is therefore another Babylonian captivity (though worse), and he used the Biblical word for being 'dragged into exile' (alx~-taAwn­ aB1]aovrm) to express its desperate nature (cf. LXX 2 Kings 24:14). The second fall, indeed, fulfilled the scriptures (Luke 21 :22b; cf. :n;).r,aBfjvm, 111 om. Mark, Matt) - by which Luke did not mean just the fulfilment of a prophecy. According to the remodelled quotation of Amos 5 in Acts 7:42-43 in Stephen's speech, it is a reasonable conclusion that if the disobedient Jews are to be 'carried away beyond Babylon', not just 'beyond Damascus' (as in LXX Amos 5:27a), a second, repeated, and even more extreme punishment has occurred in the present time (cf. also 15:16-18 on Amos 9:10-11). By clear implication this great penalty is a part of a divine plan, one connected with the 'foreseeing purpose of God' to allow both Gentiles and Israelites to kill Jesus (as the great psalm oracle had declared on David's lips) (Acts 4:25-28; cf. Ps 2:1-2). The Fall of Jerusalem has in Luke an important resonance with 'the death of the Messiah' and with Jewish rejections of new faith, 112 but without reference to any causal connections - as if the devastation were a direct punishment for the Crucifixion - being stated. Like Josephus, though, the disaster is linked to prophecy - in Daniel. That the Temple was 'trodden underfoot' (LXX Dan 8:13, av~-t:n:arr.,e-f]aerm; Luke 21:24, :n:atoV~-tEV1J, om. Mark, Matt) was a fulfilment of the Danielic vision for both Luke and Josephus, the Evangelist subtly conveying this fulfilment as a 're-enactment' of the first 'trampling' (MT Isa 63:18; cf. Acts 7:43b again). Now it is a characteristic of Luke to relate Jesus' role back to the work of the Old Testament prophets. His Christ re-enacts- in Luke's understanding, in a final way - the Passover and Exodus of the 'prophet' Moses, through his last meal with the twelve disciples and the 'exit' that he was to make/fulfil/re-enact through his death in Jerusalem (Luke 9:31; 22:15, om. Mark, Matt, John; 113 Acts 3:22-23; 7:37). Luke's Jesus 'self-identifies' as a prophet in his first sermon, being forced to contend with the same Israelite

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indifference as Elijah and Elisha (Luke 4:24-27, om. Mark, Matt); and the Evangelist wants his mixed readership to grasp that people's most common, initial image of Jesus was as a prophet (especially 7:16b, 39; 9:8; 9:19; 24:19). 114 Like Moses, he commissions; like Moses and Elijah, he receives a special revelation on a mountain; like Elijah and the 'assumed' Moses of later Jewish tradition, he ascends (Luke 6:12; 9:30-31, 51; 10:1-12; Acts 1:9-10).u 5 More significantly, he joins company very obviously with Jeremiah and Ezekiel at the point just ahead of national disaster, in exposing the corruption and misguidedness of his people's leaders (especially Luke 7:29-46; 11:29-54; 13:31-32; 18:9-14; 19:45-46; 20:24, 34-39; 22:67-68) and pronouncing doom on the house of Israel. Statements about the 'forsaken' state and the impending destruction of the nation are by now well known to be more frequent and widespread in Luke than in the other Gospels (see especially 11:50; 13:34-35; 19:41-44; 21:6-24; 23:29-30; cf. Mark 13:2-23; Matt 22:36- 24:28).u 6 There is a clear sense of inevitabilityan equivalent to Josephan 'fate' - conveyed through Jesus' diagnosis of a 'rejected generation' and its leadership, who simply cannot receive - 'will not believe'- the divine message (22:67-68, om. Mark, Matt, John; cf. Luke 8:12b; 11:47-52; cf. Acts 7:42; 28:26-27). 117 An arresting element in this Lucan Leitmotiv of prophetic retributive judgement, however, is that the individual death of Jesus as the very bearer of its foreboding is indicative of the collective penalty's 'fittingness' and 'justness' when it comes. For 'it cannot be that a prophet perishes away from Jerusalem', from 'Jerusalem that kills the prophets' (Luke 13:33-34; cf. Luke 6:23b, both om. Mark, Matt), yet 'the blood of all the prophets, shed from the foundations of the world, is to be required of this generation' (11:50, cf. Matt 23:37-39) because Jesus' death is the 'summary' fulfilment/re-enactment of this prior suffering of the righteous ones (cf. Acts 3:21-24; 7:52). 118 Luke's Christ, however, is recognized by his disciples as 'the Messiah of God', the 'Holy One', or 'Holy Child', 'the Son of God' (Luke 9:20; Acts 2:27; 3:14; 4:27-30; 8:37; 9:20), even if he cannot be seen as such by his earthly accusers (Luke 22:70; 23:9-10). This is how it comes about that the Evangelist's manifest interest in matters of retribution cannot be contained solely within the framework of prophetic judgement - otherwise both his main protagonist and his own historiographical reference-point would remain solely Jewish. Luke is characteristically concerned with temporal stages. There is no suggestion that John the Baptist and Jesus preach from essentially the same starting-point- 'Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand' (Matt 3:2; 4:17; cf. Mark 1:15; om. Luke). Although he is Jesus' precursor, John's status remains that of the traditional admonishing prophet and moral purifier, while Jesus takes it authoritatively upon himself to enact, to fulfil, and indeed apparently to usher in the Kingdom through his first sermon (Luke 3:4-17; 4:8-22). So the cosmic-historical turning-point in

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69

Luke is his clarification of a logion of Jesus: that 'the Law and the Prophets held good until John', and that 'the good news of the Kingdom of God is preached from then on' (cf. dJto r6re) (16:16 [but cf. Matt 11:12]; Acts 13:25). 119 In Luke's presentation of Jesus' teaching, what the Kingdom of God 'is like' is far less important than that it 'was preached' (by the disciples with and after Jesus), and that it was present (as an 'eschatological now') while also to be anticipated as a consummating future. 120 To Luke this preaching of the Kingdom includes within itself both the crucial prospect of judgement - a cosmic Judgement of all people and all nations, with Christ as the final arbiter - and with an overpowering indication that the work and teaching of Jesus is a universal challenge addressed not just to the Jewish people and their particularities but to the world at large. Let us take the cosmic Judgement first. Luke reports that the preaching of the Christians includes the proclamation of the second return (the parousia) of Christ as final 'judge of the quick and the dead' (as Peter in Acts 10:42b), or as the man appointed to 'judge the world in righteousness' on a day fixed by God (as Paul at 17:31), at a resurrection to distinguish the just from the unjust (Paul at 24:15; cf. also 23:6b). Now the formulation of judging 'the living and the dead' (cf. also 1 Pet 4:5; 2 Tim 4:1) foreshadows the one part of Christian credal statements distinctly concerned with retribution (as both punishment and reward). 121 But because we have already reckoned with the place of a Last Judgement in Christian retributive logic conceived more generally, and because we cannot possibly trace the development of early Christian eschatologies in this study, 122 our focus will remain centred only on the implication of a consummating krisis for Luke's historiography, and for that matter on the basic effect the prospect of a Last Judgement will have on Christian historians to come. In the broadest terms, this 'millennia! implication' 123 allows for a resolution of all events, including an ultimate revealing of all thoughts and actions (Luke 21:3b; cf. 12:8-9; see also Rev 20:11- 21:8), whereas historians- certainly most of those ancients already examined - were normally under pressure only to discern divine judgements in those portions of the past they chose their narratives to encompass, and to look for tell-tale significances and patterns behind earthly mutabilities. Right from the start, though, Luke had to wrestle with problems of historiographical and collective expectation. For him any physical suffering of the body (e.g., Luke 1:22; 12:4-5; 18:33; Acts 16:19-29), any criminal charge or trial (Luke 12:11; 21:12-13; Acts 22:26), or terrible death (Luke 9:9; 11:49; 124 23:46; Acts 7:60; 12:2), cannot automatically be taken as being well-deserved, because the righteous- Luke's Jesus speaks of 'the chosen'can as easily be tormented, as innocent ones whose victimization will require speedy, timely, even final 'vindication' ( bu5lx'l}at~) or retributive justice (Luke 18:7-8). On the one hand Luke is ready to see signs of such a

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rectification process already in events, such that there is some suffering but it is only temporary; on the other his very historiographical temperament seems to require him to detect some correspondence between any discernible cases of appropriate recompense in temporal events and the very last of Judgements- which is at hand. The logic of an ultimate retributive outcome, to be sure, had the potential to render all human efforts to fathom divine judgement in terrestrial events either futile or utterly provisional. Yet Luke, the first Christian historian, does not let this deter him from undertaking his innovative task (and from proceeding into a modus narratoris left unembraced by the other Evangelists). It is significant that Luke proceeds slowly towards a clear exposition of Christ as cosmic judge. Jesus is himself shown alluding to such judgement (Luke 10:14-15; 11:31-32; 13:28; and [parabolically] 16:19-31) and to standing before the Son of Man when the Kingdom comes fully (21:36b; cf. 31b), but it is not until the speeches of Acts- in the first Gentile conversion of Cornelius (Acts 10:42) and especially in the great Areopagus sermon that it is revealed with clarity, and without Judaeo-Biblical phraseology, that Jesus is God's appointee as arbiter over 'every nation on the face of the earth' and 'their allotted times' (17:26, 31). This is the surest sign that Luke is educating his readership to apprehend the peculiarly Christian view of history or time's 'course'. It also indicates that his envisaged readership was 'mixed' (Jews/Christians/Godfearers 125 and proselytes/Gentiles) and required teaching via narrative as to how such remarkable happenings within the mysterious, particularist ambit of Israel were vital for all peoples. 126 The Jews were not of one mind over the 'last things' (e.g., Josephus, Bell. ]ud., II, 155, 163, 165), 127 as Luke himself wanted to show (Luke 20:27-38; Acts 23:6-10); the Gentiles differed over the beginnings, processes and fate of the world, and Luke pointedly includes Stoics and Epicureans as Paul's hearers on the Areopagus of Athens (17:18-19). But by stages and with recognizable care Luke unveils the consistent and distinct lineaments of the Christian imago historiae. Care is also taken with this re-envisioning of historical meaning that messages about the positive divine offer of salvation precede and outweigh notes of negativity. In both volumes Luke's educative strategy in terms of a prospective divine cosmic event is positive before any warnings are enunciated. At the opening of the Gospel, his agents aver that God 'redeems his people' (1:68; 2:38), 'saves his people from enemies' (1:71, 73), brings salvation, forgiveness and mercy (1:77-78; cf. 1:47, 50; 2:11; 3:6) and the 'light of revelation' both to the Gentiles and for Israel's glory (2:31-32). Only after this revelation of such promise does the chosen Son have to face the Devil (3:22; 4:1-13), and the first 'preaching of the good news' (4:18-19; cf. also 1:19; 2:10; 3:18) comes up against its human opponents (4:28-29). In the earliest preaching of Acts, moreover, the emphasis is foremost on the

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outpouring of the Holy Spirit because God did not suffer Jesus to die (Acts 2:17-18, 31-33), and thus more on the opportunity to be saved from 'this perverse generation' (verse 40), before 'the Day of the Lord', when his enemies become his mere footstool (verses 19b-20, 35). 128 Throughout most of the sermons in Acts, primacy is given to the call to repentance (3:26b; 5:31b), the acclamation ofJesus' glorification in heaven in spite of what had been done to him (3:21; 5:30-31; 7:56; 10:40; 13:34-39), the 'preaching of the good news' (5:42; 8:35; 10:36; cf. 3:19), and the bringing of 'light to the Gentiles' (13:47; cf. 26:18; 23b). The balance of the eschatological atmosphere thus evokes blessing - to those of goodwill (Luke 2: 14b) - rather than an abyss of 'outer darkness' for rejectors and evil ones (Matt 8:12; 22:13; 25:30, om. Luke; cf. Luke 13:28; 20:16). On the other hand, Luke clearly describes Jewish opponents as figures placed by Jesus under the threat of being 'thrust out of the Kingdom' at a Last Judgement, while Gentiles enter in (Luke 13:28-29; cf. the gloomy judgements against Jewish opponents in Stephen's speech and the later sermons in Acts [20:19-32; 28:25-28]). The implication is that the enemies who become Christ's 'footstool' at the last are these rejectors (Acts 2:35; cf. 4:26; Pss 2; 110 ), who 'judge themselves' undeserving ( ovx asiov~) of eternal life (Acts 13:46b) as the 'deniers of justice' in 'his generation' (Acts 8:33; cf. Isa 53:8). Most significantly, it is in Luke that the Fall of Jerusalem becomes such an exc5ixrJat~ against the Jews that it bears a prototypical relation to the formidable nature of the Last Judgement (Luke 21:20-27, 31, 36; cf. 19:27), a connection Josephus - though he probably held Pharisaic beliefs about a last divine denouement (Vita, 10) -never dared to make (cf. also Bell. Jud., II, 163). Perhaps there is never an explicit indication that any death in Luke-Acts also entails a Last Judgement, as found in the contemporary 4 Maccabees, where Antiochus Epiphanes dies horribly on earth and faces still more dreadful punishment in hell (7:34-36; cf. Acts 23:3b). The possibility of some pre-emptive evocation of hell-fire by the new custodians of God's power is eschewed in the Lucan story (Luke 9:51-56 [om. Mark, Matt]; see also Luke 13:6-9; but cf. Mark). A line is skilfully drawn, because the Godhead alone can judge ultimately - even if Luke apparently allowed himself the right to illustrate what follows the unforgivable sin against the Spirit, when, within the community of 'the new Israel', Ananias and Sapphira die on the spot for 'lying to the Holy Spirit' (Acts 5:3-10; cf. Luke 12:10 par. Mark 3:28-29 par. Matt 12:31). But in an original way, Luke does not want the point missed that whatever the signposts of blessed outcomes and negative requitals are, they have some connection with the final Judgement - a point none of his historiographical predecessors had made because none of them had a last X(Jiat~ of the known order in prospect. 129 The 'blessing-and-curse' balance of Luke-Acts, though, which bears some resemblance to Deuteronomy (especially Luke 6:20-26), is complicated by

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Luke's recognition of inevitable suffering for the righteous, who may experience the very worst adversities before the Last Judgement. In his representation of Jesus' teaching and the early Christian missions, Luke takes his Jewish and Gentile readers through this logical tension with a propaideusis of the endurance that will be required. Luke's Jesus warns of impending conflicts and the need for perseverance in a marked fashion (6:22 [par. Matt 5: 11]; 8:13-15b [cf. Mark 4:15-17; Matt 13:6-8]; 12:11 [par. Matt 10:17-18]; 21:12-19, 34-35 [cf. Mark 13; Matt 24]; 22:28-34 [cf. Matt 19:28]), but his characters in Acts illustrate persistence through sufferings (e.g., Luke 9:22; 17:25; Acts 9:16) and 'trials' (Luke 8:13b; 22:28; Acts 20:19) that are necessary for 'eternal life' and the 'last times' (Luke 18:30), and they emulate the Christ's own endurance (including his bravery and his avoidance of danger until his 'course' is done) (see Luke 6:29-30; 8:22-25; 13:31-32; 22:67-69; 23:3; cf. also Luke 9:23; 14:27; and on dromos or 'course': Acts 13:25; 20:24; cf. Luke 13:32b). Luke thus characterizes Christian discipleship as demanding a special heroism - Paul's journeys, indeed, take on the character of an Odyssey or Aeneid 130 - and the adoption of a way of life that was as much a foil to traditional military virtus as it was to the luxuria of exploitative power and riches (cf. especially Luke 22:25-26). 131 His mixed readership is, as we can detect, steadily educated into the otherwise unnatural, peculiar patterns of the Christians' behaviour - behaviour that will seem 'mad' (cf. Acts 26:24-25) unless viewed as a necessary witness to the nations in the light of eschatology: the coming of the divine Kingdom in fullness, and the impending Judgement of all humanity. 132 Most significantly in terms of retributive logic, the faithful and the persevering 'receive [their] reward [.uwB6~] in heaven'- this is Luke's early announcement of Good News for those who suffer 'on account of the Son of Man' (Luke 6:22-23), an initially unidentified figure whom Luke slowly, and only eventually, reveals as Jesus in glory and as final judge. 133 Let us turn now to the second aspect of the preaching of the Kingdom in Luke. The proclaimed message bursts beyond the cultural specificity ofJesus' Jewish origins, and Jesus is presented as a figure whose teaching already brings with it 'universal implications'. His sayings and actions are therefore deliberately selected to have meaning in a cultural interface, for a readership that combines those steeped in the Jewish heritage and those who, including Gentiles, look for an introduction to a new teaching and its initiator (see especially Luke 4:14-16, 31-32; cf. Mark 1:14-15; Matt 4:23-24). Luke's design, as especially evinced by the 'central section' or 'travel narrative' of his Gospel (Luke 9:51-18:43) is to demonstrate the sort of teacher Jesus was, the essentials of his teaching, and the kinds of situations he faced. 134 And the result is chosen themes and topics that combine Jewish and Gentile interests, not a Jesus who is called only to 'the lost House of Israel' (Matt 10:6) or one interpreted through subtle rabbinic exegesis. 135 Significantly,

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too, close comparative analysis of this central block of materials with parallel passages in Matthew (and some Mark) reveals that three themes are specifically highlighted: security, discipleship, and the retributive consequences of rejecting or accepting the divine intention. The last topic, indeed, is allocated most space - Luke deliberately re-slants some of his received materials so that they suggest a pending judgement of Israel (note for example Luke 12:54-56; 16:14-18). 136 This relative balance of Jesus' teaching is foreshadowed early on: the Magnificat links the promise of mercy for the lowly with the prospect of reversal for the rich and the proud (1:49-54); and John the Baptist announces one who will teach an even more rewarding yet more demanding repentance than his own, but with the promise of the Holy Spirit involving an 'elimination of chaff with unquenchable fire' (3:10-17). The Gospel is structured accordingly. Jesus preaches the good news, calls disciples in ways that cause astonishment, and heals the sick (4-9), but mounting opposition evokes his pronouncements of a forsaken Israel. 137 Now at this point we should reflect on Luke's presentations of Jesus' ministry as the work of a historiographer concerned with retributive issues. Following further inspection of Lucan themes and interests it is fair to maintain that Luke's Jesus is less the purveyor of a new Torah, confined to a Jewish context (cf. Matt 5:1-8:1), than the teacher of a new and higher set of cross-ethnic social principles. What I have previously identified as the theme of security, for example, and others have examined as teaching about possessions, 138 I now perceive more clearly as Luke's attempt to show to Jews, Gentile Christians and pagans how Jesus subverts old expectations about proper deserts and reciprocities, disclosing them as unworthy beside indeed, to be replaced by - the way of the Kingdom. 'Even sinners [d{la{>rwA.oi]' reciprocate with those who 'do good' or 'lend to them' (Luke 6:32-34; cf. Matt 5:44-48); even the apparently 'righteous' Jewish leaders do not see a need for forgiveness but keep reciting their self-justifications instead (5:32; 7:41-48; cf. 10:29; 16:15; 18:10ff.; 20:20); those loyal to the bond of blood, or over-busy with serving, can miss the challenge of the word (8:19-21; 9:59-62; 10:38-42; 18:29-30); even hated 'foreign' Samaritans can show more care and gratitude than the people of God (10:30-35; 17:11-19); and those Gentiles who exercise their lordly power to be termed 'benefactors' cannot grasp true greatness (22:25-26). 139 But the Kingdom of God cuts across these presumed or normalized expectations of reciprocity, requiring enemies to be loved, sinners to be called, the polluted and the deformed to be healed, the returning prodigal rather than the loyal son to be feted, the devoted poor to be 'justified' over the self-righteous rich, debts to be reduced, and even invitations of hospitality to be extended towards those unable ever to return it. 140 On top of this 'universalizing' of Jesus' preaching, the theme of discipleship in Luke's Gospel also contains related elements: the followers' simplicity (9:1-6; 10:10-11; 22:35), their spurning

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of riches (12:16-21; 18:18-25; 19:1-8), their wise stewardship (16:8-12; 19:13-27) and the rejection of Mammon or extortion (11:39b; 16:13-14; 19:46). These, together with Jesus' exhortations for endurance, prepare readers for the communalism and group support of the early Christians (Acts 2:42-47; 4:32-6:7; cf. Luke 8:14; 12:32-33; 16:14), and for understanding the disciplined and heroic commitment of his second volume's central figures, who as new missionary-travellers are to brave dire straits 'Stoically' and, even though protected by God, not look to the ordinary comforts and blessings of this life. 141 So we unexpectedly discover what has been singularly neglected in histories of social theory - that Jesus' teaching was deliberately presented by Luke as handling the issues of positive reciprocity, the suffering of the good, and the strengths of justice against wickedness (JWV'f/(J{a, JWV'f/()6~) and evil (xmda, xax6~, xaxw~), 142 matters that concern common people and philosophers alike. How, then, does this deliberate characterization relate to Luke's interpretation of events and their outcomes? At the most general level, as should not be forgotten, the good and the bad enjoy the blessings of God, for he gives to the nations 'the rains and fruitful seasons' and 'to all humans life, and breath, and everything' (Acts 14:17; 17:24). Which means, as Jesus puts it in the Sermon on the Plain, God is 'kind' (X(J'f/aT6~) towards the ungrateful and the wicked (JWV'f/(JOV~) (Luke 6:35b; cf. also 12:30a, both om. Mark, Matt), this being Luke's equivalent of Jesus' saying in Matthew that God's 'sun rises on both the evil and the good, and rain falls on the just and the unjust' (Matt 5:45) (a verse, as we shall see later, that becomes a key proof-text for Augustine's historical theodicy The City of God). This means, conversely and as well, that the righteous and the bad alike can experience calamities. Hence the famous assertion of Jesus, peculiar to Luke, that 'the Galileans whose blood Pilate mingled with their sacrifices' were no 'worse sinners than all the other Galileans', and that those 'upon whom the tower at Siloam fell' were 'no worse offenders than all the others dwelling in Jerusalem' (Luke 13:2, 4). 143 The typical archaic preoccupation with the meaning of death, on reflection, is not abandoned outright in these sayings, but is replaced by the challenge to consider the prospect of a worse form of perishing. In its Judaeo-Galilean setting readers would first comprehend Jesus' insistence that his listeners will perish like these unfortunate Galileans and Jerusalemites to indicate a coming judgement on all Israel. The passage Luke 13:1-5 can in fact be said to follow up Jesus' criticisms of Jewish leadership (in 11:42-52) and be part of his Jeremiah-like doomsday railing against 'this generation'. Looking again, and especially at Jesus' adjacent declaration that he has come to 'cast fire' and 'cause division' on the earth ( yij) [as a whole] (12:49-52), and initiate other 'universally-applicable' challenges, 144 a mixed readership could also read this passage about disasters more cosmically, as if 'all are equally in danger of divine judgement' .145

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The point is that Luke develops two perspectives about recompense pari passu, enabling Jesus' and the disciples' teaching to shape, even to constitute, his own historiographical task. God's final Judgement at the end of this order of existence evidently does not leave the historian with nothing to say about divine judgements during this order; all judgements are necessarily consistent. In the specifics of his narrative, in any case, Luke is left only with the intermittent 'manifestations' of God in his protagonists' experiences that is, with significant events that recognizably confirm divine blessings and judgements within a sea of less meaningful or less predictable phenomena. For the first time in historiographical history, however, not just conspicuous individual events but everything that happens within the time continuum, indeed all human experience, is to be read eschatologically. Everything bears on an ultimate Culmination and divine Judgement, as Philo - a Jewish thinker just before Luke's time- came close to recognizing. So it is that, while the historian's concern has traditionally been with this earthly realm's outcomes and patterns of events - and Luke retains his distinctive concern for these - happenings are not looked at just as the punctuated paradeigmata of divine providence or 'God's actions in history' but for their fuller eschatological implications. Luke reveals an interest, for example, in some of the 'mechanics' of an ultimate judgement vis-a-vis human potentialities or differences- the possibility that God will be patient before he executes it (Luke 13:6-9; but cf. Mark 11:12-14; Matt 21:18-20), and be lenient towards those who have been ignorant of God's challenges (12:47-48, om. Mark, Matt; cf. Deut 25:2-3; Num 15:29-30). Luke is also intent on noting his key figures' avoidance of wrong outcomes. Their 'successes' are not due to their 'own power or piety' (llJig lJvva{let r, ei'Jae{3elg) as Peter is significantly made to express it (Acts 3:12; cf. Luke 11:43; 18:11). Barnabas and Paul, illustrative of the disciples, are very quick to disabuse the populace at Lystra of the notion that the two of them are gods (Acts 14:11-15; cf. also 10:26), so dissociating themselves from that same arrogance that brought about the prompt death of Herod (Agrippa I) (12:21-23). Moreover, Luke's Jesus never once uses the [full] title 'Son of God' of himself (not even Luke 22:70; but cf. Mark 14:61-62, though see Luke 10:22), 146 and eschews any dramatic display of cosmic power (4:4, 8, 12; 9:55; 22:51; 23:8-9, 39b), so that, to appropriate Michel Foucault's discourse analysis, his divinity has 'to be kept secret' during the Gospel 'in order for everybody to keep talking about it' in the second volume! 147 In Acts, moreover, Peter refuses to take payment from Simon the Magician for the gift of the Holy Spirit (Acts 8:9-24), so avoiding the kind of demise that befell the dishonest Ananias and Sapphira (5:5, 10), and by weaker implication Simon himself (8:20). Paul seems to threaten the thriving economy of Ephesus, which is based on the idolatrous cult of Artemis, but even the presiding city leaders perceive that he and his companions are not

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sacrilegious or lawless (19:23-41). But in relation to such matters of avoidance, one should never take implicit outcomes for granted, when avoidances which a mixed readership will think ought to have been observed by the Lucan heroes were not - as when an ailing menstruating woman so likely to 'drain power' is healed (Luke 8:42b-48; Mark 5:24b-34), when the dead (who in time came to be called 'the father of the father of contaminants'!), and possibly also lepers, are touched (Luke 7:22; 8:54-55; Acts 20:10; though note the greater care in Luke 7:14-15; 17:12-14; Acts 9:39-40), and the breakers of these taboos do not suffer the expected consequences of being polluted. 148 Direct outcomes, however, are the ones that are classically grist to the historian's mill, and Luke does not want his audience to miss those he selects. Significant deaths certainly concern him, as they do Josephus, as do fitting outcomes to events (especially the cumulative effect of his narrative leading to the finales in each of his two volumes). Luke took the narrative beyond Christ's resurrection and, over and above Jesus' own prophecies, a continuation of the story enabled him to document some of the retributive consequences of putting Jesus to death and opposing his message, partly through an instancing of individual deaths. Judas' death is obviously a crucial case in point, for it comes hard on the heels of the Ascension, when the twelfth apostle had to be replaced (Acts 1:12-26), at the beginning of Acts. Whereas Matthew relates how Judas 'repented', returned the blood-money, and hanged himself in remorse (27:3-5; cf. Tatian, Diatess., li, 7-8), the first chapter of Luke's second volume shows how Judas bought a field with the reward of his unjust action ( a&xia) and then willy-nilly died a hideous death (Acts 1:18). As an instance of divine retribution, Luke's account would have been the more compelling for both Jews and Greeks, the Jews recognizing its basis in Biblical prophecy (2:16, 20), the Greeks seeing it foreshadowed in ancient oracles and by Jesus himself (verse 20; cf. Luke 22:22b). Both groups would thus be in a position to acknowledge it as a fitting end to the betrayer. 149 The death of Herod (Agrippa I) as recounted in Acts 12:20-23 is another case in point, and because the Herod who dies eaten by worms is not specifically identified, his ugly end stands as an implied retribution on 'Herodianism' in general. 150 Josephus, for his part, tried to excuse the dying Agrippa, whom he admired, by recording his last-minute self-recrimination (Antiq., XIX, 328-42; cf. XVIII, 144; XIX, 300-11) for not preventing the Phoenician throng from declaring him a god, a sin of omission which brought about his death (XIX, 343-50; cf. XVIII, 200). But for Luke there is no such excuse. His sudden extinction thus comes at the hand of the Lord's angel (a very Jewish historiographical touch: see 2 Kings 19:35; Isa 37:36; 1 Chron 21:7-16; but cf. Josephus' 'fate', Antiq., XIX, 347), smiting an unrepentant king who persecuted the Christians and refused to give 'the

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glory to God' (Acts 12:23, cf. 2-3). Luke's explanation was easier and more readily acceptable to Jew and Gentile alike. It is important, moreover, that no retributive measure of any kind is actually effected in his Gospel, as distinct from Acts (note Luke 9:54), and that chastisement was reserved for the time between the resurrection and the eschaton. Here we may have discovered one key motivation for Luke's writing of a second volume. What Jesus had warned about was coming true, and those who rejected him had to face the consequences. God's rejection of rebellious Jews as a whole group is signalled by Paul's prophecy of Ananias' assassination (in Acts 23:3; cf. Josephus, Bell. ]ud., II, 441-2), which also implicitly pays back the Jewish high priesthood in particular for its part in the crucifixion of Jesus and the stoning of Stephen. By not specifying the key role of Caiaphas in the notorious Sanhedrin hearing (see Matt 26:57, 59-68; John 18:13-14), Luke leaves the impression that Annas was the high priest ofJesus' time (Luke 3:2; Acts 4:6; 5:21b, 27)- a man whose name was barely distinguishable from that of the doomed Ananias. 151 Josephus, too, who disliked this high priest's corruption (Vit., 196), took his death to be of immense significance in the context of the Jewish War (Bell. ]ud., IV, 318). As the chapters of Acts come closer to the predicted climax of this war (70 cE), the reversals of fortune proclaimed at the very beginning of the Gospel in the Magnificat are shown to have been being realized in contemporary events. 152 The fact that Luke elsewhere refers to the seven sons of rtvo~ ~xeva 'Iovbalov ci{}Xte{}eW~ (Acts 19:14), who are overcome by evil power(s), suggests a further, though much subtler tilting against the Jewish hierarchy, if not also an illustration of Jesus' warning to the Jews about the strength of evil spirits as unexpected oppressors (Luke 11:14-26). 153 The story of these seven sons, however, is probably more comparable with Luke's approach to the cases of Ananias and Sapphira and to the two magicians Simon and Elymas. The couple who betrayed a sacred trust fall dead at Peter's feet (Acts 5:5, 10); the archetype of 'simony' is left in fear of Peter's imprecations (8:24); while Elymas is struck blind for undermining the faith of a new convert (16:11-12). It is therefore an obvious theme in Acts that the enemies and betrayers of God's new ways, whether they are powerful, marginal or even internal to the new movement, must suffer penalties befitting their recalcitrance. Elymas' loss of sight reminds us that Saul too paid for his sins as a persecutor (cf. Acts 9:8-9, 18; 22:4-5; 26:9-19), even though along with Jesus and the other disciples he eventually came to suffer as an 'innocent', and is thus meant to represent a 'great exception' in terms of divine retributive principles (see below). Luke does not paint the followers of the Christ as perfect, for inter alia he alludes to general points of division (e.g., Luke 22:24; Acts 6:1-2; 9:21, 29; 11:1-4; 15:7; 20:29), and more specifically to Peter's weakness (Luke

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22:31-34, 54-62; Acts 10:9-17) and Paul's disputatiousness (e.g., Acts 15:36-40; 17:16-17, 23-26). The Christians' work, however, has permanence because it is, as Gamaliel (I) seemed led to admit, 'of God' (5:39a). Luke skilfully indicates that certain sectarian-nationalist movements had sprung up in the same part of the world and in the same time-period. These included the insurrections of Theudas and of Judas the Galilean (cf. Acts 5:35-39; cf. Josephus, Antiq., XVIII, 4-10; XX, 97-8), 154 as well as the revolt under 'the Egyptian' (21:38; cf. Josephus, Bell. ]ud., II, 261ff.). But they came at best to nothing, at worst to disastrous ends. The new 'Way' (cf. 9:2b), in contrast, was neither typical nor politically dangerous, and even had the wherewithal to respond to a famine 'across the whole world' (elf>' OA1JV -r1)v olxOVf.LBV1JV) - one that its own prophets foretold 'through the Spirit' - with relief resources to cope with it (c'>Laxov{a, 11:27-30; cf. 6:3). It may be fairly argued that Luke appealed to the Holy Spirit as the special 'support agency' for Christianity, an agency comparable enough with providence, fate or fortune to be intelligible to the 'Greeks', yet pretty well indistinguishable enough from the 'Spirit of the Lord' in the Old Testament to preserve a continuity between the old Israel and its 'true successor' .155 The element of theodicy is obvious: Luke-Acts 'legitimizes' a necessary rupture between Church and synagogue as its events unfold, while at the same time both Jewish and Gentile followers or converts could hold to the confidence that 'God had not been untrue to his word to Israel'. 156 John Squires was right in eliciting from the text of Luke-Acts A Plan of God in History, although it is curious that the involvement of retribution in this providentialism is so seriously under-examined in his treatment, 157 when, as with Josephus, it is through instancing both the blessings and punishments of God, including the nature of deaths, that the historian provides his audience with decisive evidence of divine governance in human affairs.

The issue of satisfactory conclusions to Luke and Acts On the subject of death, however, Luke was faced with the problem of the official but cruel executions of both his heroes - difficult at first sight to present as good news or as reflecting a moral order in favour of the Christian movement. Jesus' death raised an insuperable problem: disgracefully, scandalously (cf. 1 Cor 1:18-25), it was 'the Christ of God' (cf. Luke 9:20b) who had been dispatched, and alongside two common thieves (23:32-33)! Luke's handling of this dilemma - this tangle of retributive logic - is crucial to the overall theme of his narration. First, note his stress on Jesus' innocence. The centurion who witnesses Jesus' last breath does not declare him to be '[a] Son of God' (as in Mark 15:39b; Matt 27:54b), and a golden theological opportunity might seem to have been lost when in Luke the soldier simply

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says 'This man was surely &xmo~ [innocent/upright]' (Luke 23:47b). But using this exclamation was intended to make the point - pace all those who argue that Luke is more lenient towards Pilate (cf. especially Acts 3:13) and an apologist for Rome 158 - that crucifying the Christ was a travesty of justice by all those who judged him - the Sanhedrin, the people, Herod and the Romans (Luke 22:71; 23:11-13, 18, 23-25; cf. Mark 14-15, Matt 26-27). The same point is again uniquely underscored by Luke in the interchange between the two criminals (xaxov(Jyat), when one acknowledges that they themselves had been 'fittingly paid back' ( al;ta . . . CXJ'WAa{l{:JClVO{lEV), indeed 'justly' ( c5txaiw~) (Luke 23:41) - the vocabulary of everyday reciprocity and criminal justice overlapping here (cf., e.g., 6:34; 12:57-58)- whereas Jesus had done 'nothing wrong' (ovc5ev aronov) (23:41{:3b). And the implication that the Crucifixion was a blasphemy or moral outrage - cf. V{:3(Jta(h]an:m in 18:32 - is underscored in sermons in Acts which declare that the Chosen One was 'killed by lawless men [avo{lot]' (2:23{:3b) and through collective betrayal and murder (7:52b; cf. 3:15; 13:28). 159 Second, departing significantly from Mark's Passion narrative, Luke accentuates the heroic qualities of Jesus' death. Jesus is still prophesying and warning on his way to the cross (23:27-31, om. Mark, Matt) and he is still proclaiming forgiveness when he is raised on it, even offering hope to a penitent thief (23:34, 43, om. Mark, Matt). He utters no cry of desolation (Mark 15:34; Matt 27:46; cf. Ps 22:1) or thirst (John 19:28b), but firmly commits himself to his Father at the last (Luke 23:46; yet cf. Mark 15:37, Matt 27:50); while the cosmic and sacred signals - the darkness and the eclipse (both signs of 'God's wrath'), 160 the killing of the 'Messiah of God' and the 'King of the Jews', the (divine) rending of the Temple veil (Luke 23:35-38, 44-45; cf. Mark 15:26, 38; Matt 27:37, 51-53) - reinforce the unprecedented significance of the event (like a Suetonius signalling the demise of a Caesar). Third, the combination of travesty and heroism amounts to a classical accentuation of tragedy. Of course it is possible that Luke's selectivity and adaptation in his Passion narrative has more to do with drawing a parallel between the Crucifixion scene and the only other death given in any detail in his two volumes: that of Stephen. 161 The contrasting of extraordinary personal grace in the protagonist with the utter misguidedness of those around him, however, is essentially the stuff of tragedy, that most powerful of narrative forces which compels us to acknowledge both the necessity or inescapability of death and the all too disturbing realization that in this case it need not or should not have happened (cf. Luke 24:20-21; Acts 3:13b). 162 It is difficult to believe that when Luke wrote he was unaware of this tragic impact, for, as we have been closely examining his narration, its intricate and - why not admit it? - uncanny artistry has been plain to see. (And of course Luke knew all about the denouement to follow).

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Fourth, and commensurately, Luke provided his readers with some palliation of the horror of the Crucifixion by showing how Jesus prophesied his own suffering (Luke 9:22, 44; 18:32-33), how he linked the 'killing and persecuting', 'storming and [condemning to] death' of the prophets with the 're-enacted fulfilment' of his own 'course' (11:47, SO; 13:33-34; cf. 22:37; Acts 8:32-34), and above all how Jesus chose language to stress that 'it was [divinely] necessary' (&f) for the Messiah to die the way he did. 163 That provision, though, to note a related fifth strategy, is complicated by the rather brilliant way Luke 'educates' his Gentile readers into appreciating the divine requirement for Jesus to go the way of the cross, by creating the impression of a final, agonizing decision to accept it, with an angel present to 'strengthen him' in the garden of Gethsemane, and great drops of his sweat falling to the ground (Luke 22:43-44, om. Mark, Matt). Now, in reading Luke de novo, without knowledge of the other Gospels, one is never completely certain whether Jesus' death is actually going to occur, for even the most specific prophecies of suffering could be understood as foretelling a situation in which someone is condemned to death ( ano"ravBijvm) followed by a 'stirring' (lye{.JBijvm) in reaction (9:22) or even 'a rising up in rebellion' (avaan}aerm, 18:33) (yet cf. Mark 8:31; 9:31-32; 10:34). 164 When Jesus enters a garden and contemplates his future action in aywvia, a Gentile could not be blamed for wondering whether Jesus will resist his accusers or even take his own life. Just before going out to Gethsemane, Jesus warned his disciples that they had better sell their cloaks and buy swords (Luke 22:36) - for some kind of reprisal or act of defence? - and then apparently expressed himself to be satisfied when only two swords were produced (verse 38) - enough perhaps for suicide? This deliberate, uniquely Lucan presentation with its climactic edge of expectation seems to be highly reminiscent of contemporary Gentile predispositions about a 'noble death'. Consider especially the death of Cato the Younger who, on the evening of his suicide at Utica (near Carthage in 46 BCE), attended a supper with his close friends, declaimed over wine that 'only good men are free, and wicked men slaves', and then took to the evening air with his by then very dejected intimates. Eventually he decided the time had come to perform the deed, and overcoming the slow response of his companions grabbed a sword and stabbed himself, soon thereafter being acclaimed by the people of Utica as their 'benefactor and saviour, the only free and undefeated man', neither letting himself be taken by Caesar nor drawing the local people into a conflict (cf. Plutarch, Cato, lxvii, 1 -lxx, 6). Pace my critics, 165 I find it fascinating how, unlike the other synoptists, Luke has Jesus deliver a farewell discourse on earthly authority after the Last Supper (Luke 22:21-38; yet cf. Mark 10:42-45; 14:25-26; Matt 20:25-28; 26:29-30, though note John 13:31- 17:26), and then, after wrestling with the inadequacies of his followers (Luke 22:31-34, 46), has him talk of

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swords. And we cannot be sure what the swords are going to be used for right up until the arrest proceeds (see 22:49, om. Mark, Matt). The point is clear once a mixed readership is envisaged. After all, honourable evasion by suicide was an inspiring path to glory in the popular thought of the time. The deaths of the philosophers Zeno and Socrates apparently still evoked admiration, 166 but of all exemplary suicides Cato's was the most widely esteemed. Persius Flaccus the satirist (34-62 cE) remembers how, as a boy, he smeared his eyes with oil to avoid 'reciting the noble speech of the dying Cato' that his tutors, his father and their invited guests were so delighted to hear (Sat., 44-7). 167 But for his part Luke wants his readers to witness the noblest death of all. His Jesus lets himself undergo a 'predestined' betrayal (Luke 22:48, cf. 22). He agonizes, but is given strength from heaven (Luke 22:43, om. a• A B T, Mark, Matt), and emerges as a resolute spiritual leader through prayer (42b, 44-46 par. Mark 14:36-41; Matt 26:39-44). He sees to it that his disciples' weapons have no permanent effect (healing the severed ear of the high priest's slave, Luke 22:51b, om. Mark, Matt, John) and deplores the use of 'swords and clubs' (52; cf. Mark 14:48); the arrest is accepted as but a temporary victory of darkness (Luke 22:53b, om. Mark, Matt). Luke was constantly at pains to engender confidence in Jesus at the crux of each event, and there is also a sense in chapter 22 that time has been 'reoriented' (verses 22, 36a, 42b, 53/fu) as something of'ultimate significance' approaches (23:45). 168 The decision is right, necessary, and carries with it a retributive thrust- a sore penalty, a woe (ovai, Luke 22:22)- for those who act under the shadow of its awful implication (which now explicitly involves actual death, cf. 24:40, 46, for the difference!). All this then tends towards identifying a sixth Lucan means of alleviating the offence of the Cross: that Jesus went to his death voluntarily, because it conformed to a plan. Jesus is no unwitting tool in a cosmic drama or classic tragedy. 169 And the historian's approach leaves little room for 'high theology', for Jesus' death to be a ransom, or propitiation, or atonement, let alone a 'payment' for the sins of the worldY0 Perhaps we are meant to see in the death the historian's paradeigma or exemplum- an extraordinary death that then inspired bravery and endurance, even to the extent of the martyrdom of such a man as Stephen (Acts 4:26-30; 7:54-60). The key kerygmatic thrust of the speeches in Acts, though, is that God did not abandon the Christ to Hades, but raised him, exalting him to His own right hand (especially Acts 2:25, 27, 31-33; 5:31; 7:52, 55-56; 10:40; 13:35-37), that Jesus was the true Prophet and teacher to come as promised by Moses, and could not be killed (3:22-23; cf. Deut 18:15, 18-20), and that he is indeed the only divinely appointed saviour (Acts 4:12; cf. 5:31; 13:23, 27; 16:17). The final means of reconciling Luke's mixed audience and their preconceived notions with the Crucifixion was thus the Resurrection. The tragedy is transformed into supremely good news- not believed at first (Luke 24:11;

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yet cf. Mark 16:8; Matt 28:8-9), then apprehended slowly (Luke 24:13-32, om. Mark, Matt), and at last made plain (24:34, 36; Acts 1:3-8), even with evidential proof (TEXf.lfi(Jlat~, 171 1:3; cf. Luke 24:40, 42; Acts 10:42). The death that might have seemed so shameful - the utter ignominy in being crucified, after all (cf., e.g., Livy, Ab urb. cond., XXX, 43; Josephus, Antiq., XVII, 295; XIX, 94), a defensibly licit punishment- turned out to be the event that made possible not just the miracle of Jesus' Resurrection itself but his followers' acquisition of the Holy Spirit (Luke 24:49b; Acts 1:5; 2:1-3, etc.), and bolstered the vulnerable new community's strength within what was manifestly the intended plan of God (cf. 7J {3ovA.iJ aov lr(JOW(Jtaev) (Acts 4:28). The resurrection does not provide an occasion for gloating, however; in Luke it is not in itself an excuse to proclaim any kind of earthly victory, to rebut any aspersions on the resurrection claim (cf. Matt 28: 13; Evang. Petr., x, 43-9), or to lend support to the notion of a traditionalist messianic victory (cf. Luke 24:21, 'we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel [AVT(JoilaBm n)v 'Ia(Ja't]A.]'). It certainly does not provide a rationale for any socio-political triumphalism, in view of the vulnerability of the early Christian movement at the time of writing. On the other hand, the mysterious 'rising to life' (anastasis), which could have been described in far more detail 172 or with more miraculous if not magical significance, becomes the reason for the disciples' earnest hope of being empowered to preach 'to all nations' (24:47-49; cf. Acts 1:12-14) -a vocation that is expansive and universal but the total opposite of a military coup, and a calling that has cosmic overtones in that, far from merely reaching beyond Roman borders (cf. Acts 2:8-11), it heralds the final parousia and the whole world's Last Judgement. 173 Moreover, as the Lucan narrative of Acts proceeds, the resurrection engenders an extraordinary confidence to match the threat of death. Stephen, the piteousness of whose death is accentuated because he was so admirable ('full of faith and the Holy Spirit', 'full of grace and power': Acts 6:5, 8), dies in the knowledge that Jesus is waiting for him (7:56, 59b ), and responds to his persecutors (cf. eoiwl;av at verse 52) with a spirit of forgiveness comparable to Christ's on the cross (verse 60; cf. Luke 23:34). Luke quickly passes over the death of James, the brother of John (Acts 12:2), and does not mention the death of any other named Christian. It is important to him that Peter evades death: Peter's mysterious escape from prison is narrated as a sort of resurrection story (12:6-17), and whereas Peter remains alive it is his oppressor Herod (Agrippa I) who dies {12:18-23). Peter goes on later to contribute towards the peaceful settlement of the dispute by Christian authorities over missionary policy in relation to the Gentiles {15:7-11). Paul, whose adventures receive considerably more scope and detail, also escapes death on a number of occasions {14:5, 19{3b;

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16:23-26; 19:29-34; 20:19; 21:31; 23:15; 26:21; 27:42, 44; 28:6) but remains alive and active to the very end of Luke's entire account (28:30-32). We now come to examine perhaps the most crucial and yet most difficult question of interpretation in Luke-Acts. How did Luke himself regard the ending of the second book, and how does it reveal the overall purport of the whole work? The question requires an answer, for Acts ends with Paul's arrival and teaching in Rome and yet there are various hints at Paul's impending doom scattered around the final chapters (20:22-24, 36-38; 21:11-14) that in turn relate to a well-established tradition that he was beheaded there by order of Nero. 174 Like Jesus, Paul is subject to arrest followed by a trial in three parts- Jewish, Herodian and Roman (Acts 21:33 - 26:32) - and remember it is only according to Luke that Jesus was taken before Herod for judgement (Luke 23:6-12). 175 Luke does not, however, document Paul's death but instead leaves his readers with an exciting, even Odyssean, story of his hero's perilous sea passage to Rome, followed by an outline of the problems and challenges he faces while 'preaching the Kingdom of God' in the hub of the empire (2728). That Luke should round things off in this way has everything to do with his sense as a historian of retributive logic. As is only to be expected from him, the ending of his work brings his careful, clever revelation of divine judgements manifest in successive events to a climactic peak. How do I make this out? Let us look more closely at the strange incidents that befell Paul during his remarkable voyage and then investigate the fact that Paul's execution is altogether omitted from the text - and let us come to our own conclusion about how these two elements are integrally related. The account of Paul's sea journey from Caesarea to Rome, with its shipwreck on Malta, is probably the dramatic high point of Acts. It is the bridge between the scene in which Christianity had its origins and was beginning to spread and the scene that was Rome, its civic authority and its military might. And it is an adventure recounted in much more than Luke's standard detail. At the same time it has to be said that commenting on the passages involved (27:1- 28:16) presents some difficulties. The narrative of the sea adventure seems to have been subject far more to literary criticism and to debates over its historicity than to serious analysis of its structure and purpose, with the result that this section of Acts has rarely been credited with being part of Luke's continuing interpretation of Christian theology. 176 It may be true that the way in which Paul braved the dangers of the deep, remained unaffected by the venomous bite of a viper and reached his destination safe and sound despite everything have all been understood to reflect God's providence. 177 But more specific statements about theological points Luke might have been trying to put across have been few and far between 178 - which is a somewhat disturbing fact in view of the narrative's

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strategic position within Luke-Acts as a whole. It is my contention that Paul's problematical experiences in the central Mediterranean actually bear a significance that is historical and theological, that is quite specific and intentional, and that may not be easily grasped by people today but was designed to have a full impact on contemporary Hellenistic readers. Now we have already examined in some detail the common belief shared by 'Jew and Greek' of the time that misfortunes that befall the wicked are in reality punishments meted out by the Deity for the sins they have committed. In Hellenistic thought, however, such an understanding of the working out of retributive justice was often complicated by a belief in the possibility of religious pollution. According to this belief, an innocent person who associates, even unwittingly, with a person guilty of a sin puts himself or herself in the very great danger of being engulfed in whatever catastrophe is sent by the divine to punish the guilty. A particularly relevant example of this belief in the Judaic tradition is, of course, the story of Jonah (Jon 1:1- 2:1). Avoidance of such pollution remained an important preoccupation in the Greek culture likewise from archaic to Hellenistic times. 179 Writing in a different language, for a different readership, and in an era that was rather before Luke's time, the Latin-speaking Livy held a similar world-view, ascribing the disastrous defeat of the Romans at Lake Trasimene (217 BeE) to the failure of the consul Flaminius to have the auspices read when he took up his office (Ab urb. cond., XXII, 1-6). A little-known passage in a speech by the Athenian orator Antiphon (c. 480-411 BCE) has been put forward by Gary Miles as an illustration of just how widespread was the notion of religious pollution within an understanding of retributive logic. It has a particular bearing on the story of Paul's sea voyage in Acts. 180 One of Antiphon's clients, a certain Helos, was taken to court because his companion had mysteriously disappeared while they were both sojourning at Methymne during a cruise around the Aegean. The charges against him included one of 'pollution'. Helos' main line of defence was, fascinatingly, that if his hands were 'unclean [!lr) xa8a(>oi]' or tainted by some pollution (!Liaa!La) the rest of the same voyage and other voyages undertaken subsequently should have ended in catastrophe, as happened so often when people journeyed across the ocean without knowing enough about each other (Antiphon, Herod., 82-3). 181 The fact that his voyages had been successful constituted absolute proof of his own innocence. The arguments proffered by Helios can contribute much towards an interpretation of Acts 27- 28, in which the story of shipwreck is the only one in the Bible to be described with colourful vigour (cf. Jon 1:14, 16; 2 Cor 11:25). Looking again at these chapters, though, we may suddenly be struck by what is effectively an inconspicuous and generally unnoticed punch-line to Luke's historical and theological thrust: after the dreadful ordeal, 'everyone was brought safely [.m1vra~ Dtaaw8fjvat] to land' (27:44;

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cf. 24b ). As the difficulties of the Mediterranean crossing increased, Paul emerged as the crucial figure who could save the seafarers from total disaster. With every raising or lowering of sail, with every change of course and sounding for depth, the reader is carried along by the thoughts and the entreaties of the hero-captive who, after he has made a prediction about a calamity to come (verse 10) which goes unheeded, nonetheless advises cheerfully that 'there will be no loss of life' and that 'not a hair of your heads will be lost' (verses 22, 34) because God has destined him (&f) to 'stand before Caesar' in Rome (verse 24; cf. 19:21; 23:11). When the ship duly crashes onto the rocks and breaks up, as by this time is thoroughly expected by the reader, it is a relief to discover that Paul's confidence is not misplaced. Furthermore, Luke's emphasis on the complete fulfilling of Paul's predictions is both clear and deliberate. His impressive statement that 'everyone was brought safely to land' was intended not simply to convey the information that, with divine help, Paul was miraculously preserved from death in order to reach Rome and do what he had to do there, but to make the telling point that his faith and his presence on board ship saved the lives also of some 276 seafarers 'brought safely' (C>taawBfjvat) to the island of Malta (27:44; 28:1). Why should this be regarded as such a telling point? Because it constitutes decisive confirmation of Paul's innocence of the charges against him. At this stage we should ponder three particularly noteworthy facts. The first is that at the ending of Acts no information is given of any trial before Caesar or indeed before any authority in Rome (cf. the anticipatory passages 25:11b; 26:32; 27:24; 28:19). Paul arrives at the administrative hub of the Empire; he is welcomed by certain Christians and argues with certain Roman Jews; and he establishes a centre for preaching in the house he has rented (28:14-31). Modern readers may well be disappointed in the apparently inconclusive nature of this 'ending' and frustratedly curious about what happened afterwards. 182 But the omission of any reference to a trial in Rome could equally well suit Luke's purpose. Rather than pose the usual questions - whether Luke was planning a third book, for instance, or whether he simply did not have enough information to complete the story properly - we should instead realize how his account of the shipwreck appeared in the eyes of most of his contemporary readers. It was a sub-textual tour de force. Paul had been put to the ultimate test by forces and exigencies far more traumatic than attendance at any human court of law - and had been found innocent. What on earth did the outcome of his appeal to mere mortal authorities matter?' 83 The final chapters of Acts can in this way only be fully understood by re-establishing Hellenistic preconceptions on shipwreck. The second noteworthy fact is that Luke is careful to mention these very preconceptions, and at some length, in his description of the reactions of the

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inhabitants of Malta. In this connection, however, we must preserve an equally careful distinction between the background knowledge of Luke's original readership (who presumably had been following the career of Paul up to this point with great interest) and the cultural background of the Maltese, which Luke lightly parodies. The reader is wafted along in the 'upbeat' buoyancy of Luke's narration of the apparent workings of Providence. Instead of falling into the hands of alien thieves and murderers, Paul and his fellow-travellers were 'shown unusual courtesy' by the {3a{J{3a(Jot. 184 Instead of dying in agony from snakebite, Paul was miraculously preserved unharmed so that in turn he could perform miracles on behalf of the island people. In the meantime, the Maltese onlookers expressed their thoughts about what they saw, and those thoughts were certainly not representative of the thoughts of Luke's original readers (who apprehended what was going on) - but were nonetheless thoughts very familiar to Gentiles and doubtless occurred to them frequently. At this point we should make it clear that the comments of the Maltese islanders about the vengeance of Divine Justice are not focused solely on the sudden bite of the viper. Luke's narration of their views is worded very deliberately. 'The man is quite obviously a murderer. He may have escaped from the sea, but Justice [Jf 6l"1J] has not let him survive' (28:4). The implication behind these words is that Paul's emergence unscathed from the sea would have been considered by the people there to be a clear sign of his innocence of any crime, but that for a brief moment doubt had been cast over his worthiness. (For Luke's readers, this might well recall the memory of Paul/Saul's prior involvement in the killing of at least one man- cf. 8:1, 3; 9:1, 21; with later reminders at 22:4a; 26:10b.) The hasty judgement of the local inhabitants proved, however, to be wrong on no fewer than three counts. First, the Maltese were totally mistaken in suspecting Paul to be a murderer. Second, they were wrong to believe that Paul would be harmed by the snake (an error that led to their further misguided conclusion that Paul was himself a god). And third, they failed to realize that it was Paul who was actually the guarantor of the shipwrecked voyagers' safety. It is this third misapprehension that was most significant to Luke's underlying meaning. Paul had been shown to be innocent: there was no question that Justice would claim him at the last. The third fact of note is that the legal issues involved in both Helos' defence and Luke's narrative of shipwreck and deliverance are substantially the same. Antiphon clinched the argument on behalf of his client by pointing out Helos' surprising immunity to disaster at sea following the incident at Methymne, his case resting on grounds that were apparently well established in Athenian court proceedings, and on principles accepted beyond even Luke's time. 185 In Acts the point is much more than the matter of Paul and his company's being brought to safety among hospitable and naturally

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friendly, if uncivilized, natives on a comparatively isolated island such as to 'inspire all the Robinson Crusoes of the future'. 186 The point was also that he was able to heal the local sick so that support there was obtained for the continuation of the journey (verses 8-10), and that he and his companions were then enabled to go on in a new ship under the figurehead of the Heavenly Twins (verse 11), the south wind ( v6ro~, Latin Notus) blowing them on their way from the stern. For a Gentile readership especially, these last two benefits were important symbols of good fortune particularly welcome to mariners, associated with the success in adversity of the Argonauts and so also with a Deity to be thanked and praised (cf. verse 15b). 187 So, what about the ending of Acts? How did Paul die - remembering that there are some lugubrious indications in the text that his death was at least in prospect, that his was a possible 'path to martyrdom'? 188 The last paragraphs of the two-volume work are appropriately resolute. Paul arrives in Rome, the hub of the empire, and is given something like a hero's welcome on the Appian Way (28:15). The decision of God that the 'pagans' are to be proselytized and that there is to be a rupture between synagogue and Church is strikingly affirmed as if it is from Rome outwards that this rupture will have its greatest effect in the future (verse 28). And finally Luke generates a note of forward-looking optimism with the comment that Paul enjoys freedom to preach the Kingdom in the city 'for the whole of two years' (verses 30-31). In fact there is a fascinating similarity between this last suggestion of 'capability despite detention' and the finale of 2 Kings (at 25:27-30) or to the conclusion of the entire Deuteronomic history (cf. Jer 52:32-34; yet cf. 2 Chron 36:20-23). It has to be said that although the pericope-by-pericope structuring of Luke-Acts is reminiscent of histories already presented in the Bible as opposed to the continuous narration preferred by pagan historians, the deliberate use of such parallels by Luke for his Jewish readers endows an otherwise abrupt ending with an unexpectedly powerful meaning - of that ancient trust in God for the future of His people. At the same time, for his Gentile readers Luke illustrates Paul's relative peace and security in the great city of Rome itself. 189 And yet, ... and yet - there is no account of how Paul met his own end. That is a definite lacuna, and one that might have perplexed even Luke's contemporary readers. It needs an explanation. So to bring this chapter to a conclusion we shall examine an explanation, under three headings. The first is literary craftsmanship. Luke was no mean litterateur: his subtle - sometimes almost uncanny - way of imposing unity on his historical narrative cannot be considered anything but superb. The question arises, then, over whether Luke's work would have been diminished in terms of aesthetic balance if his second book had ended with a death as the first one had (and with a death, moreover, not shortly thereafter followed by a resurrection, as Christ's death had uniquely been, so possibly leaving the

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reader lacking that vivid sense of hope commensurate with the story of the Christian faith as Luke perceived it). The use of the shipwreck theme (which Luke might have exploited to a greater extent and elsewhere in his account if he had had more facts to work with - cf. 2 Cor 11:25) was thus a brilliant alternative, enabling the work to be rounded off on an optimistic note. Second: if - as non-Biblical tradition has it - Paul died a victim of execution by lawful authorities as Christ had done, then Luke had another ignominious (and therefore 'problematic') death on his hands. That was hardly going to advertise the new faith as something inspirationally attractive. Quite apart from the fact that Luke surely intended his attempt at accurate historiography to be one means of making new converts, there was the additional anomaly that the very civil authority that had formerly deemed Paul undeserving of imprisonment eventually executed him nonetheless. It was awkward enough for Luke to have to concede that a Roman procurator had sent Jesus to the most cruel of deaths (note Acts 2:23b; 4:27) (even if it remains difficult to believe that Luke knew nothing of Pilate's own brutality), but to finish with an expose of Roman judicial hypocrisy was another matter entirely. Here I am assuming that the time between the trial that prospectively exonerated Paul (c. 63 CE) and any volte-face by the authorities that brought about his death (c. 65 cE) was rather less than some have suggested190- too short an interval for Luke to avoid offending the sensibilities of influential Romans who might otherwise have formed a useful part of his readership. Finally, and most importantly, to describe Paul's wretched death would only have raised those very doubts that Luke supposed always to be lurking in the minds of readers familiar with traditional retributive logic. The hero, after evading so many potentially fatal mishaps, was eventually shamed and killed by order of a court of law (cf. Lysias, Frg. 32), and even if he had endured such tribulations as the most stoical of martyrs, these sorry circumstances did not provide a useful moral with which to round off the narration of Paul's extraordinary life-story. Admittedly, there is only a prima facie case for assuming that Luke felt constrained to bring his narration to a close while still following the Pauline adventure - but with the previous 17 chapters of Acts already devoted to the story, this is an inference that is by no means unwarranted. It requires only a brief analysis of Luke's approach to the grisly death of another unfortunate hero to appreciate his reluctance to go into any further detail on the subject than he feels he really has to. I refer to the fate of John the Baptist. It is significant that Luke omits the lengthy account found elsewhere of the Baptist's execution and the display of his head upon a dish (Mark 6:17-29 par. Matt 14:3-12). He speaks only of John's imprisonment by Herod(= Antipas; Luke 3:19), of the exchange of messages between John and Jesus (7:18-22), and then, by means of allusions placed in the mouths

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of others, of his execution by decapitation (9:8-9) in the fulfilment of his life's work (Acts 13:25). 191 In this Luke is as cursory in his narrative style as he was with the death of James. Another, obvious, reason for Luke to leave out Mark's story of John's beheading was that it depicted Herod as remorseful about it afterwards (Mark 6:26), whereas it was Luke's purpose to emphasize divine retribution to come upon the Herodians (at least before Herod Agrippa II). I suspect that Luke had in his possession all kinds of other reports and notes concerning various imprisonments of Paul (2 Cor 11:23), including a lengthy incarceration in Ephesus (Eph 3:1, 4:1; Phm 1, 9; cf. 2 Tim 4:16). But he did not use them, electing instead to feature only brief episodes such as the occasion on which it took a miracle to release Paul (Acts 16:23-40; cf. 23:18) - because at the conclusion of his work he could not wish away his missionary hero's chains (28:20{:fu). 192 A plethora of misfortunes, a pagan might protest, is likely to undermine morality (cf., e.g., Aristotle, Bud. Eth., 122laff.). So Luke's remarkable work is intent on recognizing enough of the workings of providence in times of adversity to point to the supreme salvation available to all that is indicated and vindicated by events. Luke is undoubtedly a worthy pioneer of Christian historiography. The first historian to combine biography with the history of a religious movement, he was also the first to recognize how greatly the influence of both his major subjects - Jesus and the spread of the Christian faith -would come to shape world events. By his account Jesus was to be the supreme and culminating figure of history, and the Way was chosen by God to be humanity's most important social factor. In Acts, Luke invented ecclesiastical history - carefully concentrating on the lives and works of individual missionary-heroes - to balance his biography of Christ in his first book. Clarity was achieved in his work by fusing together comparable elements of geographical information, dramatic events and cosmic themes. 193 And above all, as we have sought to prove, his perception of retributive logic binds that achievement into a compelling whole. It is possible that the unfortunate necessity for selectivity was forced upon him lest he gave the impression of a religious movement so cluttered with disparate details as to be unattractive. Yet the overall effect of the more traditional elements he included, their skilful sequencing, and the development of the narrative in each of the two books towards a slower, more prolonged climax are striking- indeed, astounding. Perhaps Luke's accentuation of Jesus' prophecies of the despoliation of the Jewish homeland and his instancing of representative punishments reflects a recognizably 'masculine' predilection for the judgemental, yet throughout his writings there is relatively greater interest in women's concerns than in those of the other Evangelists. Several images of maternal care are included. 194

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In fact, Luke-Acts is so impressive a start to Christian historiography that what follows during the Patristic centuries at no point ever really matches the work in its emotive vibrancy, or in its unmistakable authority in spite of its susceptibility in later eras to some higher criticism. It is evident to one and all, then, that Luke-Acts is 'Scripture' and not just an ordinary work. Within their slender dimensions, Luke's books contain and fuse comparable elements of information and explanation deriving from Hebrew and GraecoRoman literary strands, revitalizing this classical heritage and giving it a new and determinative orientation towards the theologically interpretative. And as is quite plain to see, it is the teaching that the work and life of Jesus provided that for Luke was the key inspiration for this transformation. At a time when Christianity was still such a minute force for good in the world, Luke had the incredible confidence in it to proclaim that its founder and his followers would come to define the true meaning of all human history.

Notes 1. Rather than just summarizing it, as Rabbi Hillel taught. See J. Goldin, 'Hillel (the Elder)', in IDB, vol. 2, p. 605. 2. For detailed studies: W. M. Swartley (ed.), Love of Enemy and Nonretaliation in the New Testament, Louisville, 1994; cf. also R. Stark, The Rise of Christianity: A Sociologist Reconsiders History, Princeton, 1996, p. 212; W. Klassen, '"Coals of Fire": Sign of Repentance or Revenge?', NTS, 9 (1962-3): 337-50. 3. Thus D. H. Lawrence, Apocalypse, Harmondsworth, 1974 edn, p. 12; cf. P. Esler, The First Christians and Their Social Worlds, London and New York, 1994,

ch. 8. 4. Often taken as imminent: G. W. Trompf, 'Introduction', in idem (ed.), Cargo Cults and Millenarian Movements (RelSoc, 29), Berlin, 1990, pp. 8-9; cf. Inventing the Millennium, Cambridge (forthcoming), ch. 1. 5. See G. W. Trompf, 'When Was the First Millenarian Movement?', in A. Sharma (ed.), The Sum of Our Choices (Eric J. Sharpe Festschrift) (McGSR, 4), Atlanta, 1996, pp. 244ff. On meta-technology: esp. W. C. Tremmel, Religion: What Is It?, New York and London, 1984 edn, pp. 62-6. 6. For milestones in the 'militant' line of interpretation: R. Eisler, The Messiah Jesus and John the Baptist, London, 1931; J. Carmichael, The Trial of Jesus, Harmondsworth, 1966 edn; S. G. F. Brandon, Jesus and the Zealots, London, 1967. Against: esp. G. H. Yoder, The Politics of Jesus, Grand Rapids, 1972; J. Ferguson, The Politics of Love, Nyack, NY, 1979, ch. 1. On identifying the Christianity of James, Jesus' brother, with Qumran 'militancy': R. Eisenmann, esp. fames the Brother of Jesus, London, 1987, vol. 1. Against: G. Vermes, 'The War over the Scrolls', New York Review of Books, 41/4 (1994): 12-13. 7. K. Stendahl, 'The Roots and Streaks of Violence in the Christian Tradition and the Traditions of the Books' (unpublished seminar paper, University of

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8. 9. 10. 11.

12. 13.

14.

15.

16.

17. 18.

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Sydney, 25 July 1982); cf. idem, 'Hate, Non-Retaliation and Love, 1 QS x, 17-20 and Rom. 12:19-21', HTR, 54/4 (1962): 343ff. Against, arguing that Jesus did hate: N. Symington, Emotion and Spirit: Questioning the Claims of Psychoanalysis and Religion, London, 1994, p. 25. Of pertinence, on hate and disdain in Jewish literature: J, P. Kealy, Who Is Jesus of Nazareth?, Denville, NJ, 1977, pp. 101-2. SeeR. Kyle, The Mind of John Knox, Kansas City, 1984, pp. 83-5. R. A. Horsley, Jesus and the Spiral of Violence, Minneapolis, 1993; idem (ed.), The Message and the Kingdom, Valley Forge, 1997. Thus J, Mazzini, The Duties of Man ((trans. E. A. Venturi] using Dent edn, London, 1907), ch. 1, p. 19. Cf., e.g., D. E. Oakman, Jesus and the Economic Questions of His Day (SBEC, 8), Lewiston, 1986, chs 3-6; B. Charette, The Theme of Recompense in Matthew's Gospel (JSNT Suppl. Ser., 79), Sheffield, 1992. I mean to return to the literature on New Testament sociology by Theissen, Malherbe, Kee, Marina, Esler, etc. in another study. Start with R. H. Charles' seminal Religious Development Between the Old and the New Testament (Home Library), London, 1914, pp. 147-58, on these views from the first centuries BCE/CE. Begin with M. L. Clarke, The Roman Mind, Oxford, 1956, ch. 12; cf. A. J. Malherbe (ed.), Moral Exhortation: A Greco-Roman sourcebook (LEC), Philadelphia, 1986. Epictetus, Enchirid., xlii; Frg. iv; Cicero, Epist. ad Caes. (49 BCE); Virgil, Eclog., x, 69; cf. also Aen., i, 312 ff. (and on Virgil's neo-Pythagoreanism: J, Carcopino, Virgile et le mystere de la quatrieme eclogue, Paris, 1930, pp. 30-105); Juvenal, e.g., Sat., iv, 10; Tacitus, Annal., I, 39, cf. II, 39; XV, 44-6. Long ago Lord Herbert of Cherbury listed Latin affirmations about the value of conscience: The Antient Religion of the Gentiles, etc. (1673] London, 1705 edn, pp. 329-31. E.g., Test. Sim. 6:3-4; Test. Jud. 23-24; Tacitus, Annal., I, 18ff. (but cf. Germ., esp. 7-20); Appian, Rom. Hist., proem. 7; cf. C. and R. Berndt, The Barbarians (TL), London, 1971, pts 1-2 (against outsiders); Ecclus 30:8-11; Cicero, De Offic., iii, 7, etc. (riches). Specifically on the Roman martial spirit: M. Marin y Pena, Instituciones militares romanas, Madrid, 1956; P. Plass, The Game of Death in Ancient Rome, Madison, 1995, pt 1, ch. 5; cf. (for crucial texts) Tacitus, Hist., I, 89; Cicero, Cat. mai. de senectut., vii, finis. E.g., Cato the elder, De Agricult., esp. i-viii; Varro, Rer. rust., I, vi, Iff.; III, 3ff.; Virgil, Georg., ii. For Gentile ideologies of collective hope: Trompf, Idea of Historical Recurrence, op. cit., vol. 1, pp. 200-3; cf. also B. Gatz, Weltalter, Goldene Zeit und sinnverwandte Vorstellungen (Sp, 16), Hildesheim, 1967. For fertile ground: W. Meeks, The Origins of Christian Morality, New Haven, 1993; cf. E. W. Barnes, The Rise of Christianity, New York, 1947, p. 300. Cf., e.g., B. D. Shaw, 'Body/Power/Identity: Passions of the Martyrs', JECS, 4/3 (1996): esp. 282-3. The quotation derives from Dio Cassius, Rom. Hist., I, vi, 5- a Gentile position Paul implicitly 'deconstructs'. On new approaches to Paul on justification: J.D. G. Dunn, 'The Justice of God: A Renewed Perspective on Justification by

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20. 21.

22. 23. 24.

25.

26. 27. 28.

Early Christian historiography Faith', JTS, 43/1 (1992): 1-22, questioning E. P. Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism, London, 1977. Addressing Paul and sacrificial principles: R. G. Hamerton-Kelly, Sacred Violence: Paul's Hermeneutic of the Cross, Minneapolis, 1992. See also Rom 4; Gal 7; cf. esp. Rom 2:4; Heb 6:1; 6:11; James 2 (faith without works); 2 Pet 1:1; 3:9, cf. also Matt 6:14 par. Luke 11:4 (as connected with retributive logic); cf. C. F. D. Moule, '"As We Forgive ... ": A Note on the Distinction between Deserts and Capacity in the Understanding of Forgiveness', in E. Bammel, C. K. Barrett and W. D. Davies (eds), Donum Gentilium (David Daube Festschrift), Oxford, 1978, pp. 68-77. For background here: J. Dunnill, Covenant and Sacrifice in the Letter to the Hebrews (SNTS Monographs), Cambridge, 1992, pp. 136-9. Thus (various): Virgil, Georg.; Cato, De agricult., cxxxix (for a positively AngloCatholic-looking prayer, of some fascination); Varro, Rer. rust., I, vi; Caracalla, in A. C. Johnson, P. R. Coleman-Norton and F. C. Bourne (eds and trans.), Ancient Roman Statutes, Austin, 1961, no. 277; Celsus, apud Origen, Contr. Cels., iii, 59; Julian, Caesar., 336B; Diocletian, apud Lactantius, De mort. pers., xxxiv, finis; Valens, apud Socrates, Hist. eccles., iv, 26; etc. On what is behind Jesus' and the Evangelists' responses to Galilean mentalities: Tromp£, The Logic of Retribition (forthcoming). Cf. also Philo (e.g. De Abrah., 96-8; 103; 145); [Mishnaic] Taan., i, 7ff.; cf. Ber., ix, 2; etc. Note Tacitus, Hist. I, 1 (an implicit attack on Velleius?); cf. J. W. and A. M. Duff, A Literary History of Rome in the Silver Age: from Tiberius to Hadrian, London, 1964 edn, p. 77. Livy, Ab urb. cond., I, 1; cf. Lucian, Graph. Hist., 42 for some Greek historiographical theory; and Sextus Aurelius Victor, De Caesarib., xxxiii, 26; xxxiv, 6; Claudian, IV Cons. Hon., 394-418; for the continuation of this evaluative orientation and rhetorical conceit into later antiquity: cf. H. W. Bird, Sextus Aurelius Victor: A Historiographical Study (CMT, 14), Liverpool, 1984, pp. 100-3. For some extant authors on the utter fickleness of fortune ( TVX'f/), denying its moral responsibility, yet not as Epicureans: e.g., Cicero, De Amicit., liv; Curtius, Hist. Alex. Magn. Maced., III, ii, 17; Pliny the Elder, Hist. nat., II, 22; Sallust, Catil., viii, 1-5. On the pollution issue, see note 181 below. On profanation in a Latin history: e.g., Livy, Ab urb. cond., XLI, 16; on sacrilege in Diodorus: e.g., Bibliot., XVI, lxi, 1-4; cf. also Cornelius Nepos, Miltiad., vii, 5. A later concept and significantly anachronistic: G. Lombardi, Ricerche in tema di ius gentium, Milan, 1946. See also G. Stiibler, Die Religiositiit des Livius (TBA, 35), Amsterdam, 1941, ch. 3; J. H. W. G. Liebeschuetz, 'The Religious Position of Livy's History', JRS, 57 (1967), pp. 45-55; cf. I. Kajanto, God and Fate in Livy (AUT, 64), Turku, 1957, pp. 63-100; R. M. Ogilvie, A Commentary on Livy: Books 1-5, Oxford, 1965, p. 708 (on Fortuna). For Chinese comparisons, Ssu-ma Ch'ien (90s BeE), Shih Chi, s. v. 'Liu Pi', Y. Hsien-yi and G. Yang trans., Hong Kong, 1974 edn, p. 307 (Lui Pi's speech on how 'Heaven blesses those who do good but visits calamity upon wrongdoers .. .').

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29. Trompf, Recurrence, vol. 1, esp. pp. 185-6, 195-6. 30. Livy, Ab urb. cond., II, 41; VI, 2 [2]: XLIII, 13ff.; [perioch.], LX; LXXIX-CXLII; cf. praef. [3], etc.; Diodorus, Bibliot., XXXVII, iii, 1; cf. XXXIVN, v, 1-x, 1; xxviiia, 1-xxix, 1; xxxiii, Sf.; Dionysius, Archaeol., II, xi, 2f. (but cf. Valerius Maximus, Fact. diet. mem., IV, i, 8); Tacitus, Annal., I, 3; Sallust, Catil., x, 4; xii, 2, cf. xi, 3; Iugurth., xli, 3-4 (but cf. xlii, 2-3; cf. Ad Caes., v, 4-6); Florus, Epit., I, xlii, 8. 31. Pompeius Trogus, apud Justin, [Epit.] Hist. Philip., XLI, i (following A. Momigliano, The Origins of Universal History', SL, 161 [1984]: 92, who also discusses Antisthenes of Rhodes, Nicolaus of Damascus and Timagenes of Alexandria as comparable 'resistance historians' in the East [pp. 89, 91], the first of these interpreting the pointed deaths of a Syrian officer and a Roman general as a return of Asia to power, apud Phlegon, FGH, vol. 3B [no. 257, Frg. 36]; cf. H.-D. Richter, Untersuchungen zur hellenistischen Historiographie [EH, 3, Ser. 3], Frankfurt-am-Main and New York, 1987, on Trogus' sources). 32. Augustus, Mon. Ancyr., esp. 21, 24; and picking upon this by treating Augustus' reign as a high point, Virgil, Eclog., IV; Tacitus, Annal., I, 4; cf. Suetonius [c. 120 cE], Vit. Aug., 100; Tib., 74; Calig., 57; etc.; Florus, Epit., II, xxi (12), 1-3. 33. For details: Trompf, op. cit., pp. 93-7 (esp. n. 146), 192-6, 232; cf. H. Drexler, 'Die moralische Geschichtsauffassung der Romer', Gym, 61 (1954): 168-90. 34. See I. J. Kidd, 'Posidonius as Philosopher-Historian', in M. Griffin and J. Barnes (eds), Philosophia Togata: Essays on Philosophy and Roman Society, Oxford, 1989, pp. 42-7 (esp. p. 46, and following his fragment numbering). 35. Cf. also R. Mellor, Tacitus, London and New York, 1993. The 'wrath of God' could be manifest elsewhere, e.g. against Ptolemy II of Egypt (Hist., IV, 84). 36. On these passages subtly accentuating Tiberius' alienation from Rome before his death: see esp. A. J. Woodman, Rhetoric in Classical Historiography, London and Sydney, 1988, pp. 186-9. 37. See, e.g., Tib., 14; 71; Calig., 57; Claud., 46; Ner., 17; 57; etc., although note anticipation of the tendency in Plutarch, Vit. Iul. Caes., lxix. 38. Han shu, 100 A, Sa; Wen hsiian 52; conveniently translated in T. deBary (ed.), Sources of the Chinese Tradition, New York, 1960, vol. 1, pp. 193-6. 39. Pan Ku on Wang Mang, Han shu, 99, B, lla-12b (see H. H. Dubs [trans.], The History of the Former Han Dynasty by Pan Ku, Baltimore, 1955, vol. 3, pp. 253-7), in the wake of the more cautious Ssu-Ma Ch'ien, Shih Chi, e.g., llOff.; cf. 130 (and see deBary, op. cit., pp. 269ff.). 40. For background, R. M. Grant, Augustus to Constantine, London, 1970, pp. 3-5; cf. W. Ferguson, 'Legalized Absolutism en route from Greece to Rome', AHR, 18 (1912-13): esp. 34-47. 41. E.g., on the hubristic cycle of individuals in Diodorus, Bibliot., XXVII, vi, 2; xi, 3; xv, 2; XXXIII, xv, 10; cf. XIII, xxv, Iff.; xxii, 6-8. On this theme in Herodian, see Chapter 3 below. 42. Plutarch, from an established Chaeronean family, liked to stress Rome's need of Greece: see Cat. mai., xxiii, 3; cf. C. Pelling, 'Plutarch: Roman Heroes and Greek Culture', in Griffin and Barnes (eds), op. cit., pp. 200-1, 215, 221-2.

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43. In this work, however, he failed to account for Domitian's long survival. In general: F. E. Brenk, In Mist Apparelled: Religious Themes in Plutarch's Moralia and Lives, Leiden, 1977, pp. 256-75. 44. See Marc., xxix, 7-8; cf. xx, 1-2 compared with Livy, Ab urb. cond., II, 6-7 and Cicero, De senect., vii. On weaknesses: e.g., Fab., xxvii, 2; Fab. Peric. Comp., ii, 4; Pomp. Aegil. Comp., i-v; and on after-effects: e.g., Grace. Cleom. comp., v, 4; Timol., xxxix; Aem. Paul., xxxix, 6-10. 45. Cf. G. Soury, 'Le probleme de la providence et Plutarque', REG, 58 (1945): 163ff. On Confucius: see, e.g., Analec., XIV, 38. 46. See Cicero, Somn. Scip., iii, 1; vii, 25 (for some influential thoughts: cf.. Macrobius, Comment. in Somn. Scip.); and more generally M. P. Nilsson, Geschichte der griechischen Religion (HA, 5, 2), Munich, 1920, vol. 2, esp. pp. 220ff.; cf. F. Cumont, After-Life in Roman Paganism (Silliman Foundation Lectures), New Haven, 1922. For further background: S. Angus, The MysteryReligions and Christianity, London, 1925, esp. ch. 4; K. Hopkins, Death and Renewal (SSRH, 2), Cambridge, 1983; J. Ferguson, Religions of the Roman Empire, London, 1970, chs 7-12. 47. Ferguson, The Place of Suffering, London, 1972, esp. pp. 53-5; cf. also Duff, op. cit., p. 175; H. H. Scullard, From the Gracchi to Nero, London, 1963 edn, p. 39. 48. Against Stoic views, apud (the Epicurean) Diogenes of Oenoanda, Frg. 35 [C. W. Chilton edn, Oxford, 1971, pp. 15-16]; Pseudo-Phocylides, Sent., 95-115 (111 for the quotation [P. Derron, Paris, 1986, p. 10]); a view that equates nature and religion, of course, as ancient as Sumer, and different from that of the early Christian theologians. 49. See, e.g., Poimandres, 26; and both the Armenian and Greek Definitions of Hermes Trismegistus (first century CE), the latter work(s) recently discovered; cf. G. Quispel, review of J. Fantino, La theologie d'Irenee, VigChr, 48 (1994): 412. This anticipated Christian Gnostic cosmogony: M. A. Williams, 'The Demonizing of the Demiurge: The Innovation of Gnostic Myth', in idem, C. Cox and M. S. Jaffee (eds), Innovations in Religious Traditions (RelSoc, 31), Berlin, 1992, pp. 73ff. 50. On intimations of Jewish martyrdom here and in the Maccabean context: esp. J, Downing, 'Jesus and Martyrdom', JTS, 14 (1963): 281-5; A. J. Droge and J. D. Tabor, A Noble Death, San Francisco, 1992, pp. 71-5; but cautioning against the notion that Christian martyrdom has any precedents: G. W. Bowersock, Martyrdom and Rome, Cambridge, 1995. Cf. J. A. Goldstein, II Maccabees (AB, 41A), Garden City, NY, 1983, pp. 291-304. 51. See D. Daube, The Sudden in the Scriptures, Leiden, 1964, Pt 1. 52. Thus 0. Eissfeldt, The Old Testament, esp. p. 614; for LXX usages: cf. E. Hatch and H. A. Redpath, A Concordance to the Septuagint, Oxford, 1892-6, pt 2, p. 423; pt 4, p. 930 on ex(){x:qat~ and f.UafJ6~; and note also pt I, pp. 169-70; pt II, p. 335; pt IV, p. 776; pt VI, p. 1354. 53. Cf. E. R. Goodenough, An Introduction to Philo Judaeus, New York, 1962 edn, p. 45. 54. Thus E. Brehier, Les idees philosophiques et religieuses de Philon d'Alexandrie, Paris, 1950, p. 89; cf. H. A. Wolfson, Philo: Foundations of Religious Philosophy in Judaism, Christianity and Islam, Cambridge, MA, 1948, vol. 2, p. 422.

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55. Trompf, Recurrence, vol. 1, pp. 167-8. 56. E. R. Goodenough, op. cit., ch. 7; H. P. Martin, Fil6n de Alejandria y la genesis de la cultura Occidental (Collecci6n 'Oriente-Occidente'), Buenos Aires, 1986, ch. 1, sect. 1.4. 57. Not forgetting longer-term background in Polybius, Hist., I, esp. xx, 5-7; xxv, 5-6. For the phrase d'vw xai xarw further back in previous authors: e.g., Aeschylus, Eumenid., 650; Herodotus, Hist., III, 3. 58. H. Conzelmann, Gentiles/Jews/Christians: Polemics and Apologetics in the GrecoRoman Era (trans. M. E. Boring), Minneapolis, 1992, pp. 203-25; G. E. Sterling, Historiography and Self-Definition: Josephos, Luke-Acts and Apologetic Historiography (NT Supp., 64). Leiden, 1992, ch. 6. 59. See esp. S. Sowers, 'On the Reinterpretation of Biblical History in Hellenistic Judaism', in F. Christ (ed.), Oikonomia: Heilsgeschichte als Thema der Theologie (Oscar Cullmann Festschrift), Hamburg-Bergstadt, 1967, pp. 18-25; cf. S. Rappaport, Agada und Exegese bei Flavius Josephus, Vienna, 1930, pp. 20, 108; P. Collomp, 'La place de Josephe dans la technique de l'historiographe hellenistique', in Etudes de la Faculte des Lettres de Strasbourg (Publications de la Faculte des Lettres, 106, Melanges III, etudes historiques), Paris, 1947, pp. 81-92. 60. What follows expands upon my 'Retributive Logic in Flavius Josephus' (unpublished seminar paper [in preparation for JJS], School of Studies in Religion, University of Sydney, March 1996). 61. But cf. Deut 3:26-27, 34-46 (see Chapter 1 above). That Graecizing also occurs here: cf., e.g., Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Archaeol., I, lxvi, 4. See also [the incomplete] Ass. Moys. Conversely Josephus does adumbrate (some of the punishments) on the rebellious ones in the desert: Antiq., III, 299, 314; IV, 57, 154-5, etc. 62. For background: W. Eichrodt, Theology of the Old Testament, esp. vol. 1, chs 2-11. Lltafh]xrJ, as translating the Toraic n')J, is strong in the LXX: cf. Hatch and Redpath, op. cit., vol. 2, pp. 300-2; but weak in Josephus: cf. K. H. Rengstorf, A Complete Concordance to the Works of Flavius Josephus, Leiden, 1973, vol. 1, p. 451. 63. Cf. A. Schlatter, Wie sprach Josephus von Gott? (BFCT, 14), Giitersloh, 1910, esp. p. 49. 64. H. W. Attridge, The Interpretation of Biblical History in the Antiquitates Judaicae of Flavius Josephus (HDR, 7), Missoula, 1976, pp. 86-7; cf. also Antiq., I, 183-5. 65. Cf. D. J. Munro, The Concept of Man in Ancient China, Stanford, 1969, esp. pp. 28-9. 66. And more occasionally of earlier rulers: W. J. Terstegan, 'Ei.lae{31J~ en l:Jaw~ in het grieksch taalgebruik na de vierde eeuw' (doctoral dissertation, Universiteit Utrecht), Utrecht, 1971, pp. 149-57. Ei.lae{31J~ has also been reckoned a good translation for the Sanskrit dharma: cf. W. Foerster, in TDB, vol. 7, s.v., n. 16. 67. Start with Antiq., IV, 180-6; cf. VIII, 266, 307, 394, 419; IX, 104, 199, 246; X, 45-6. On Josiah, cf. Chapter 1 above and 2 Chron 35:22. 68. Approximating the myth of the Wandering Jew for a Gentile audience. For Biblical background: Deut, 28:36-39; 29:22-25; 1 Kings 9:6-9 ('byword'); Deut 4:27; Lev 26:33; 1 Kings 14:15; Neh 1:8; etc. (scattering for sins); Deut 28:65

96

69. 70.

71. 72.

73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78.

79.

80. 81.

Early Christian historiography (lack of noah); Amos 8:12; Hos 9:12 ('wandering' foretold). For the latter myth, esp. P. Tabori, The Anatomy of Exile: A Semantic and Historical Study, London, 1972, pp. 53-60; G. K. Anderson, The Legend of the Wandering Jew, Providence, 1965. Antiq., XIV-XVII are books heavily dependent on Herod's historian Nicolaus (see A. H. McDonald, OCD, s.v.). Cf. also Antiq., XIII, 299-342; XIV, 77-9; XV, 243; Vita, 32-100; Bell. Jud., II, 254-62 (punishments against later Jewish, esp. Hasmonean, leaders); X, 211-19: XI, 2-3, 120, 132, 237; XIV, 77 (surprise concessions to non-Jewish rulers). Esp. Antiq. V, 339; VI, 35-6, 42, 60-1, 268; XI, 111; XIV, 491; Bell. Jud., I, 70; VI, 98-110; 323-7; cf. Antiq., IV, 223; VI, 83; XI, 112; etc. For discussion: esp. Schlatter, op. cit., pp. 32-3, 215; B. Briine, Flavius Josephus und seine Schriften in ihrem Verhaltnis zum Judentum, zur griechischen-romischen Welt und zum Christentum, Wiesbaden, 1969, esp. p. 206; T. Rajak, Josephus: The Historian and His Society, Philadelphia, 1983, p. 99; Attridge, 'Josephus and His Works', in M. E. Stone (ed.), Jewish Writings of the Second Temple Period (CRINT, 2,2), Assen, 1984, p. 204, n. 8; J. T. Squires, The Plan of God in LukeActs (SNTSMS, 76), Cambridge, 1993, pp. 164-6; cf. G. F. Moore, 'Fate and Free Will in the Jewish Philosophers According to Josephus', HTR, 22 (1929): 371-89; S. J. D. Cohen, 'Josephus, Jeremiah and Polybius', HTh, 21 (1982): 372. Note that an equivalent to the Greek philosophical notion of free will does not exist in the MT. See Rengstorf, op. cit., vol. 1, p. 444, vol. 4, p. 10 (on Satan); and esp. Antiq., XIX, 77; Bell. Jud., IV, 622; Vita, 63 (fortune). Thus, following Squires, op. cit., pp. 18-20, 46-52, 84-9 (on portents in Josephus), 129-37. See, e.g., Ezek 14:22; Zeph 3:13; Zech 8:12; cf. H. H. Rowley, The Biblical Doctrine of Election (Louise Curtis Lectures 1948), London, 1950, chs 1-2. Of relevance to those in quest of early Christian group-identity, e.g., J. Lieu, The Forging of Christian Identity' (unpublished seminar paper, School of Studies in Religion, University of Sydney, 21 May 1998), Sydney, 1998. Cf., on God's wrath, e.g., Antiq., VII, 150-3, 318-19, and see also Rengstorf, op. cit., vol. 3, pp. 229-31, 263-5. Thus Grant, 'Eusebius, Josephus and the Fate of the Jews', in P. J. Achtemeir (ed.), Society of Biblical Literature 1979 Seminar Papers, Missoula, 1979, vol. 2, pp. 69-82. I have no space here to discuss evidence concerning other editions of Josephus: start with D. H. Barish, The Autobiography of Josephus and the Hypothesis of a Second Edition of the Antiquities', HTR, 71/1-2 (1978): 61ff.; cf. also Bell. Jud., I, 3; VII, 55; Contr. Apion., I, 50-1; Slav. Joseph. On an apparently uncorrupted text of Josephus about Jesus in Arabic sources: Agapius, Kitab al- 'Unvan, fols. 6v-7r (PO, vol. 7/4, pp. 471-2); cf. S. Pines, An Arabic Version of the Testimonium Flavianum and its Implications, Jerusalem, 1971, esp. pp. 16f. and passim. For discussion of Hegesippus as the likely source, see Chapter 3 below. Thus N. A. Dahl, 'The Purpose of Luke-Acts' in his Jesus in the Memory of the Early Church, Minneapolis, 1976, p. 88.

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82. Literature on questions of authorship is vast. For recent, moderate assessments: I. H. Marshall, The Gospel of Luke: A Commentary on the Greek Text (IGTC), Exeter, 1978, pp. 33-5; idem, The Acts of the Apostles: An Introduction and Commentary (TNTC), Leicester, 1980, pp. 44-6. Cf., on Luke's common use of the phrase 'preach[ing] the Gospel', Luke 4:18; 20:1; Acts 8:25; 14:7, 21 (also as 'preach[ing] the word'). On the Christians as the new Israel: cf. esp. R. ]. McKelvey, The New Temple: The Church in the New Testament, Oxford, 1969, pp. 86ff. 83. Alex., i; cf. D. A. Russell, 'On Reading Plutarch's Lives', GR, 2nd Ser., 13 (1966): 148. 84. For the nearest to a parallel configuration, much later: Porphyry, Vit. Pythag. (early fourth century CE)- Porphyry opposes Christianity (Kata Christ.). 85. Esp. in Historical Recurrence, pp. 321-4. 86. See C. H. Talbert, What Is a Gospel?, Philadelphia, 1977. On Matthew's being before Luke to cover Jesus' infancy, and some signs of 'historical characterization': see ]. D. Kingsbury, Matthew: Structure, Christology and Kingdom, London, 1976, esp. p. 36. 87. At least from Luke 4:37 to 9:51 when Luke's 'middle section' or 'travel narrative' begins, and between 19:28 and 22:3, when the Lucan Passion account diverges. 88. For background: esp. R. Bultmann, 'Zur Frage nach der Quellen der Apostelgeschichte', in A. ]. B. Higgins (ed.), New Testament Essays (T. W. Manson Festschrift), Manchester, 1959, pp. 68ff.; ]. Dupont, Les sources du Livre des Actes, Bruges, 1960; M. Wilcox, The Semitisms of Acts, Oxford, 1956, ch. 6; E. Haenchen, 'Das "Wir" in der Apostelgeschichte', ZThK, 58 (1961): 329ff; ]. Kilgallen, The Stephen Speech: A Literary and Redactional Study of Acts 7, 2-53 (AnBibl, 69), Rome, 1976. 89. On the sources of Luke's Gospel, milestones are: B. H. Streeter, The Four Gospels, London, 1930 edn; W. L. Knox, Sources of the Synoptic Gospels, Cambridge, 1953-72, 2 vols; P. Parker, The Gospel Before Mark, Chicago, 1953; A. Farrer, 'On Dispensing with Q', in D. Nineham (ed.), Studies in the Gospels, Oxford, 1955, pp. 55ff.; V. Taylor, 'The Original Order of Q', in Higgins, op. cit., pp. 246ff.; W. R. Farmer, The Synoptic Problem, Dillsboro, 1976; F. Bovon, 'The Synoptic Gospels and the Non-Canonical Acts of the Apostles', HTR, 81/1 (1988): esp. 25-31; H. Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels, Philadelphia, 1990. 90. Cf. esp. A. A. Ehrhardt, 'The Disciples of Emmaus', NTS, 10 (1963): 182ff.; Trompf, 'The First Resurrection Appearance and the Ending of Mark's Gospel', ibid., 18 (1972): 325. 91. Trompf, 'La section mediane de l'Evangile de Luc: !'organisation des documents', RHPhR, 53 (1972): 141-54; cf. H. Marshall, Luke, p. 402; ]. A. Fitzmyer, The Gospel According to Luke (AB, 28-28A), Garden City, NY, 1981-5, vol. 1, p. 832; and see D. M. Moessner, Lord of the Banquet: The Literary and Theological Significance of the Lukan Travel Narrative, Minneapolis, 1985, pp. 120, 237 (obscuring my position, and making Lucan methods far too complex). Cf. also W. R. C. Loader, 'Luke's Historical Docetism: The "Golden Age" Approach to Christian Origins', in P. Davis and ]. Hinchcliff (eds), Dialogue on Religion, Auckland, 1977, p. 62. 92. Esp. H. Flender, St Luke: Theologian of Redemptive History (trans. R. H. and I.

98

93.

94.

95.

96.

97. 98.

Early Christian historiography Fuller), London, 1967, p. 42; Squires, op. cit., pp. 20-3; but cf. Marshall, St Luke: Historian and Theologian, Exeter, 1970, esp. chs 2-4; idem and D. Peterson (eds), The Theology of Acts, Grand Rapids, 1997. Note Conzelmann on Luke's Jesus being put in the past rather than the eschatological present; cf. his The Theology ofSt Luke(::::: Die Mitte der Zeit) (trans. G. Buswell), London, 1960, pt 4, ch. 4. For Luke qua historian in the longer-term background of scholarship: W. Gasque, A History of Criticism of the Acts of the Apostles (BGBE, 17), Tiibingen, 1975, ch. 7; Sterling, op. cit., pp. 315-20. On the reception of my structuralist corollaries: see, e.g., D. E. Aune, The New Testament in Its Literary Environment (LEC, 8), Grand Rapids, 1983, p. 119; and a reaction to it as 'parallelist': see, R. C. Tannehill, The Narrative Unity of Luke-Acts: A Literary Interpretation, Philadelphia, 1986, esp. vol. 2, pp. 29, 50. Tannehill rightly sees my approach to be more akin to C. H. Talbert's (Literary Patterns, Theological Themes and the Genre of Luke-Acts [SBLMS, 20], Missoula, 1974) than to that of M. D. Goulder, Type and History in Acts, London, 1964; cf. Luke: A New Paradigm (JSNT Supp. Ser., 20), Sheffield, 1989, 2 vols. Other writers interested in Lucan parallelisms in different ways are R. Morgenthaler, W. Radl, R. F. O'Toole and D. Buckwalter. Thus L. T. Johnson, 'On Finding the Lukan Community: A Cautious Cautionary Essay', in Achtemeir (ed.), op. cit., vol. 1, pp. 87-100; and questioning P. Esler, Community and Gospel in Luke-Acts, Cambridge, 1989 edn, esp. ch. 2 (missing Johnson). Cf. also R. J. Maddox, The Purpose of Luke-Acts (FRLANT, 126), Gottingen, 1982, ch. I, 5. Esp. M. Dibelius, Studies in the Acts of the Apostles (trans. and ed. H. Greeven), London, 1956, pp. 123ff.; cf. S. Brown, 'The Role of the Prologues in Determining the Purposes of Luke-Acts', PRS (Spec. Stud. Ser., 5 [ed. W. E. Mills]) (1978): 99ff.; L. Alexander, The Preface to Luke's Gospel (SNTS Monograph 78), Cambridge, 1993. For background: E. P. Sanders, A. I. Baumgarten and A. Mendelson (eds),]ewish and Christian Self-Definition, London, 1981, vol. 2, esp. chs 2, 4; cf. also D. L. Tiede, Prophecy and History in Luke-Acts, Philadelphia, 1980, p. 7 and passim. Note that the theories of authorial intentionality and perceived readership are integral to the history of ideas, yet they can be restricted by critical-hermeneutical insights on the one side and remain open to theological inspirationalism on the other. For help: N. Wolsterstorff, Divine Discourse, Cambridge, 1995. On the other major evangelists, in contrast: see esp. J. M. Robinson, The Problem of History in Mark (SBT, 21), London, 1957; G. Barth, Tradition and Interpretation in Matthew (with G. Bornkamm and M. J. Held) (trans. P. Scott) (NTL), London, 1963, pp. 95-124; C. H. Dodd, Historical Tradition in the Fourth Gospel, Cambridge, 1963; S. L. Davies, The Gospel of Thomas and Christian Wisdom, New York, 1983. S. G. Wilson, The Gentiles and the Gentile Mission in Luke-Acts, Cambridge, 1973. See Acts 4:21-24; 5:19-23; 8:4; 9:23-27; 12:7-17; 14:19-20; 15:1-3; 16:19-34; 17:6-10; 19:29-20:1; 21:30-23:11; cf. also Luke 11:49-50; 12:11-12; 21:12-19 (in Jesus' prophecies). On the significance of 1:8b: note Wilson, op. cit., pp. 122-5, 228-38; Maddox, op. cit., pp. 76-7.

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99. See next note below; cf. Acts 7:42-43, 13:41; 21:11; and concluding Acts, 28:26-28; on oracles: cf. also Luke 20:17, 43. 100. See Luke 4:28-29; 6:1-8; 11:53-54; 13:14; 16:14; 17:25; 20:20; 22:52, 66-71; Acts 4:1-7, 21-22; 5:17-28, 40; 7:51- 8:2; 9:23, 13:45-46, 50; 14:2-6; 17:5-8, 13; 18:6, 12-16; 19:9; 20:3, 28-30; 21:27-36; 23:2-22; 24:1-9; 25:2-3; 28:19, 24-27. 101. And closer to Luke's time, Ecclus. 44ff.; Ta'anith (apud Babylonian Talmud), ii, 4; Zadokite doc. (MSA) 1, 3, etc. 102. Cf. W. Manson, The Epistle to the Hebrews: An Historical and Theological Reconsideration, London, 1957, ch. 2; J. Munck, Paul and the Salvation of Mankind (trans. F. Clarke), London, 1959, pp. 222-4. The speech's nonPalestinian geography compares intriguingly with parallels in Ezek 20. 103. Acts, esp. 6:7 (many Jewish priests!); 21:20; 13:43; cf. also 2:5, 41, 47; 4:36; 6:7; 11:19ff.; 14:4b; 15:5; 17:4; 18:8 (on Jewish converts); 14:5; 16:22ff.; 17:32; 18:12; 19:24ff. (on Gentile difficulties). 104. Trompf, Recurrence, pp. 137-47 for crucial passages on revealing fulfilment as re-enactment; but cf. Paul's speech in Acts 26:22-23 by way of caution. Luke opened his work in terms of the fulfilment of messianic expectation, for the deliverance of the Jews and of all peoples, with the hymnodic Luke 1:72-73; 2:30-32. 105. For relevant debate: R. L. Brawley, Luke-Acts and the Jews: Conflict, Apology and Conciliation (SBLMS, 33), Atlanta, 1987; cf. G. Baum, Is the New Testament Anti-Semitic?, Glen Rock, NJ, 1965; J. D. Crossan, Who Killed Jesus?, San Francisco, 1995. For the earliest uses of the substantive Iovr5ai"a/16~, 2 Mace 2:21; 8:1; 14:38; 4 Mace 4:26; Gal 1:13-14 (a term not appearing in the Gospels). 106. Or siege? For the debated issues: cf. J. A. T. Robinson, Redating the New Testament, London, 1976, ch. 2. 107. On questions of authenticity: W. G. Kiimmel, Promise and Fulfilment: the Eschatological Message of Jesus (SBT, 23) (trans. D. M. Barton), London, 1957, pp. 99ff.; L. Gaston, No Stone on Another: Studies in the Significance of the Fall of Jerusalem in the Synoptic Gospels (Supplements to NT, 33), Leiden, 1970, chs 1-2. 108. Pompey entered the Holy of Holies in 63 BCE (Josephus, Antiq., XIV, 72). 109. Following H. Metzger, St Paul's Journeys in the Greek Orient (SBA, 4) (trans. S. H. Hooke), London, 1955, p. 73. 110. Also Conzelmann, Theology, op. cit., p. 129; cf. pp. 125-35. 111. The verb is JriWrA1J/1L, which Luke usually employed to mean 'filling' or 'completing' a time period, but here it suggests fulfilment. On this special sense: W. F. Arndt and F. W. Gingrich, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament (and Other Early Christian Literature), Chicago, 1957, p. 663b; cf. Luke 1:20, DWrp21. 112. See R. Brown, The Death of the Messiah, London/New York, 1994, vol. 1, pp. 584-5, etc. 113. Trompf, op. cit., pp. 123, 125-6; cf. M. H. Shepherd, 'Are the Synoptics and John Correct about the Date of Jesus' Death?', JBL, 80 ( 1961): 123ff. 114. See G. W. H. Lampe, 'The Lucan Portrait of Christ', NTS, 2 (1955-6): 169.

100

115. 116. 117. 118.

119.

120.

121.

122. 123. 124. 125. 126.

Early Christian historiography Other images, though, include lawgiver: esp. Luke 6; and sage: esp. 7:26-35; cf. B. Witherington III, Jesus the Sage, Minneapolis, 1994. Exod 19:20; 33:21-23; 1 Kings 19:8-11; 2 Kings 2:11-12; Assump. Moys.; Josephus, Antiq., IV, 325-6. See Rengstorf, Das Evangelium nach Lukas (NTD, 3), Gottingen, 1962, p. 125 on Elias-Christologie. Esp. G. B. Caird: cf. his Saint Luke (PGC), Harmondsworth, 1963, pp. 168-70 (and in his Oxford lectures, 1960s). Discussing 'fate': see also Squires (op. cit., pp. 170-3) on Luke 24:26; Acts 17:3; 26:23 (yet curiously missing these other passages). Thus the Law and the Prophets (and the Psalms) can refer to Christ more broadly (esp. in Luke 24:25, 27, 44-45 in concluding the Gospel). Also in Lucan understanding the crucial passage of Isaiah 53 (see Acts 8:31-35; cf. hints at Luke 9:22, 17:25, 22:15, 26:23; Acts 3:18, 9:16, 26:23) refers both to the sufferings of a past figure [or group] (note, e.g., Targ. Isa. 53) and to Jesus. On traditions of slaughtered prophets: e.g., 1 Kings 19:1; Ascen. Isa.; 1 Thess 2:14-15; Heb 11:37, and traditions behind Origen, Comment. in Matt., s.v. 23:31 [E. Klostermann ed., GCS, vol. 38, pp. 238-9]). For interpreting issues: esp. Conzelmann, op. cit., pp. 20ff., 160ff.; P. Cameron, Violence and the Kingdom (ANTJ, 5), Frankfurt-am-Main, 1988; cf. also Luke 13:3, 5; 16:30; Acts 2:38; 3:19; 8:22 (on Jesus and the disciples' re-enacting ageold calls to repentance). On likening the Kingdom: Luke 13:18, 20; 18:16; but cf. Matt 13:24, 31, 33, 44-45, 47; 18:23; 19:14; 20:1; 22:2; 25:1. On preaching the Kingdom (apart from 16:16): Luke 4:43; 8:1; 9:2, 11, 60, all om. Mark, Matt; Acts 1:3; 8:12; 19:8; 20:25; 28:23, 31; cf. 10:42. On the Kingdom present: esp. Luke 10:9; 11:20; 17:21, om. Mark, Matt; cf. also 12:56/fu; but cf. Matt 16:3/fu (on this G. Klein, 'Die Priifung der Zeit (Lukas 12, 54-56)', ZThK, 61 [1964]: 375-8); Luke 11:2b (par. Matt 6:10a); Acts 13:41b. Against the idea of Luke taking the parousia to be 'put off indefinitely' (so Conzelmann): see esp. S. Brown, Apostasy and Perseverance in the Theology of Luke (AnBibl, 36), Rome, 1969, pp. 6ff., and Kilgallen, op. cit. On the debated issue about kerygma and basic doctrine in Lucan speeches: Dodd, The Apostolic Preaching and Its Development, London, 1936, ch. 1; C. F. Evans, 'The Kerygma', JTS, 7 (1956): 25-41; cf. E. Schweizer, 'Concerning the Speeches in Acts', in L. E. Keck and J. L. Martyn (eds), Studies in Luke-Acts, London, 1968, pp. 208ff.; cf. Wilcox, op. cit., esp. pp. 158-71. But cf. my Inventing the Millennium (forthcoming). Here defining and categorizing the millennium (as sociologists do); so see Trompf, 'Introduction', in idem (ed.), Cargo Cults, pp. 1-10; 'When Was the First, etc.', loc. cit. This passage seems related to Luke 6:22-23 par. Matt 5:11-12 in prophesying the violent deaths of early Christian preachers: cf. R. J. Dillon, From EyeWitnesses to Ministers of the Word (AnBibl, 82), Rome, 1978, p. 259. 'Godfearers' in Josephus (Antiq., XIV, 110) seems a wider category than 'righteous Gentiles', circumcision not necessarily being entailed; but cf. Esler, op. cit., pp. 35-7, 154-6 (definition too narrow). Cf. Conzelmann, 'The Address of Paul on the Areopagus', in Keck and Martyn (eds), op. cit., pp. 220-9.

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127. Listing all known opinions, J. Bonsirven, Le Judai"sme Palestinien au temps de Jesus-Christ, Paris, 1950 abridged edn, pp. 203ff. 128. For Biblical background on the apocalyptic 'Day': esp. S. Mowinckel, He Who Comes (trans. G. W. Anderson), Oxford, 1959, esp. ch. 8. 129. Like their Greek and Roman counterparts, Israelite-Jewish historians show no signs of writing with an eschaton in mind. The book of Daniel looks an exception, yet I hold its narrative portions (1-6; 8-10) not to be historiographical, but to be Hebrew equivalents to Hellenistic romance vignettes (and so not to observe strict chronological rules). 130. See Talbert, Literary Patterns, op. cit., p. 81, yet the literary structure is that of historians rather than epic poets; thus E. Pliimacher, Lukas als hellenischer Schriftsteller: Studien zur Apostelgeschichte (SUNT, 9), Gottingen, 1972, esp. pt 3. 131. Talbert, Reading Luke, New York, 1988, pp. 153ff.; J. H. Neyrey (ed.), The Social World of Luke-Acts, Peabody, 1991. 132. Cf. R. Maddox, Witnesses to the End of the Earth, Sydney, 1980. 133. Only through Peter's confession is there a definite equivalence made between the Messiah and the Son of Man (9:20-21 [par. Mark 8:29]), and the further (strongly implied) assimilation of these into the Son of God comes only by the trial (22:69-70 [cf. Mark 14:61-62], not with Peter's confession at Caesarea Philippi [as in Matt 16:13, om. Mark 8:29J3b]). 134. Tromp£, 'La section', pp. 143ff.; cf. B. Reicke, 'Instruction and Discussion in the Travel Narrative', in Studia Evangelica (TU, 73), Berlin, 1959, pp. 206ff. (on alternating audiences between disciples and outsiders); H. L. Egelkraut, Jesus' Mission to Jerusalem, Frankfurt, 1977 (on steps towards a great crisis). 135. Cf., K. 0. Stendahl, The School of Matthew and Its Use of the Old Testament, Uppsala, 1954. 136. Luke 12:54-56 turns a mere ethical injunction in Matt 5:25-27 into a criticism of the people's disobedience; in Luke 16:14-18 the teaching about divorce is directed against the Pharisees; yet cf. Mark 10:11-12, Matt 5:31-32 (though note 19:9). For detailed exegesis: Tromp£, 'La section', lac. cit. 137. For the arrangement: e.g., Luke 4:22, 36; 5:9, 26; 7:16-17; 8:56; and on mounting opposition: 4:29; 5:21, 30, 33; 6:2, 7-8, 45-49; 7:31-35; 9:5. 138. E.g., L. T. Johnson, The Literary Function of Possessions in Luke-Acts, Missoula, 1977. 139. Mark 10:42-45 and Matt 20:25-28 lack this subtle tilt at self-styled 'benefactors'. Luke 7:41-48 and 9:59-62 reveal peculiarly Lucan materials; and note S. Aalen, 'St Luke's Gospel and 1 Enoch', NTS, 13 (1966-7): 2, on the Lucan critique of self-justification. 140. In order, Luke 6:27-30; 35; 5:31-32 and 8:47; 8:43-48 and 17:11-19; 15:11-32 (cf. also 15:3-10); 16:1-9; 14:12-14. 141. In Recurrence, p. 151, I discuss comparable pagan passages in Diogenes Laertius, Vit. philos., i, 17; v, 2; Philostratus, Apoll., I, 18; II; III, 1, 14; IV, 5; Epictetus, Dissert., III, xxii, 2. On protection by God: e.g., Luke 12:11b-12; 21:15; Acts 18:9-11; 27- 28; cf. Rom 2:4. 142. Luke 11:39; Acts 3:26; cf. Luke 6:22, 35, 45; 11:4, 13, 29, 34; 19:22 (wickedness); cf. Acts 8:22; cf.. Luke 16:25, 23:22; Acts 9:13, 18:10.

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143. The two incidents are not mentioned elsewhere, but match Josephus, Bell. jud., II, 8-13; Antiq., XVII, 213-18; Philo, Leg. ad Gaium, 299-305 on Pilate. 144. Luke 12:54-56 is no longer an attack on the Pharisees and Sadducees as in Matt 16:1-4 but on the crowds (oxA.m), and thus Jesus' challenge looks as much to pagan astrology as to Jewish sign-seeking. Luke 12:57-59, just before 13:1-5, is now about 'magistrate', 'judge' and 'officer' (as against 'judge' and 'guard' in Matt 5:25-26), and thus now addresses the Roman imperial order. 145. Marshall, Gospel, p. 552. 146. Note here the Johannine-looking reference to the Son: cf. John 3:35; 13:3; 10:15; 17:25; P. Parker, 'Luke and the Fourth Evangelist', NTS, 9 (1962-3): 317ff. 147. I allude here to Foucault's History of Sexuality (trans. R. Hurley), London, 1990-2, vol. 1. Luke of course inherits the motif of the Messianic secret from Mark. 148. On pollution in Judaism: E. Feldman, Biblical and Post-Biblical Defilement and Mourning: Law as Theology, New York, 1977, p. 15 (quotation); J. Neusner, The Idea of Purity in Ancient judaism, Leiden, 1973; and in Graeco-Roman mentalities: E. R. Dodds, The Greeks and the Irrational, Berkeley and London, 1951, esp. ch. 2; M. Douglas, Purity and Danger, chs 1, 3. 149. Of relevance is the suicide by hanging of Archias the betrayer of Cyprus in Polybius, Hist., XXXIII, v, 2-4. 150. Most of Luke's readers, being ill-informed on Palestinian affairs, could be excused for confusing the two Herods (Luke 3:19a; 9:7a; cf. 3:1, the tetrarch; and Acts 12:1a, the king). He apparently blurs the distinction to suggest that justice was satisfied (in Acts 1), after the murder of John and the mockery of Jesus (only in Luke, at 23:7-11). Cf. Acts 25:13, 23-26; 26:1f., 24ff. on the specific naming of Agrippa (II); and on anti-Herodianism in the Gospels: see H. Braunert, 'Der romische Provinzialzensus und der Schatzungsbericht des Lukas Evangeliums', Hist, 6 (1957): 192ff. 151. Significantly, Luke only once refers to Caiaphas, and even then after Annas (a name not unlike Ananias!), in Luke 3:2. John has both Annas and Caiaphas as high priest (18:22-24)! - evidently reflecting a common non-acceptance of Rome's annulment of Annas' position in 15 cE; but see S. Sandmel, 'Annas'; 'Caiaphas', in IDB, vol. 1, pp. 138, 481-2. 152. See J. Drury, Tradition and Design in Luke's Gospel: A Study in Early Christian Historiography, London, 1976. 153. This is the last passage in a whole section related to retribution: see Trompf, 'Section', loc. cit., pp. 146-7. 154. Put in the wrong historical order, albeit within a speech (E. Trocme, Le Livre des Actes et l'histoire, Paris, 1957, pp. 193-4), but it is difficult to deduce Luke's lack of familiarity with extra-Christian affairs from this: cf. Cassidy, jesus, Politics and Society: A Study of Luke's Gospel, Maryknoll, NY, 1979, p. 11. 155. See Trompf, Recurrence, pp. 174, 333-4. 156. Following Esler, op. cit., pp. 16-23, 57; cf. L. T. Johnson, loc. cit., p. 122 on theodicy connected with Israel. 157. Plan, op. cit. I am privy toR. MacFarlane's review of Squires' book for NTS; cf. my 'Australian Studies of Luke-Acts', RT (forthcoming).

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158. See H. J. Cadbury, The Making of Luke-Acts, London, 1958, chs 17-18; Barrett, Luke the Historian in Recent Study (A. S. Peake Memorial Lecture 6), London, 1961, p. 43. 159. Luke never uses the vocabulary of aas{J1)~, aae{Jsta or t5vaae{Jsta, though for the first two in the NT: Rom 1:18; 4:5; 5:6; 11:26; 1 Tim 1:9; 2 Tim 2:16; Titus 2:12; 1 Pet 4:18; 2 Pet 2:5; 3:7; Jude 4, 15 (three times!), 18. In Acts the blame for the Crucifixion tends to be placed more on the people's (in Luke's view exclusively Jewish?) pleas before Pilate (in the Court of the Gentiles, in front of the praetorium). 160. Thus R. Brown, op. cit., vol. 2, p. 1038. 161. Trompf, Recurrence, pp. 122-3. 162. See also T. Driver, The Sense of History in Greek and Shakespearean Drama, New York and London, 1967 edn. 163. Luke 9:22a; 13:33a; 17:25a; 22:37a, and esp. 24:7, 26, 44; Acts 1:16; 3:21; 17:3. Cf. Squires, op. cit., esp. pp. 166-76. 164. Mark renders the meaning of these logia 'plainly' or 'unambiguously' (8:32a), but this clarification is omitted in Luke precisely because he wants to preserve the possibility of multiple meanings. Mark at 9:31 distinguishes between being condemned to death and being killed; coupling anoxrsvovmv and anoxravlJsi~ removes the ambiguity - but Luke keeps it. Matthew, later than Mark and writing for a Christian community, assumes his readers will see no ambiguity, at 16:21-22 and 17:22-23. 165. E.g., F. W. Walbank's review of my Recurrence, CP, 78 (1983), p. 85. 166. Cf. esp. Diogenes Laertius, Vit. philos., VII, 26-8 (Zeno's Jain-like end); Xenophon, Def Socr.; Lucian, Pereg., 11; Justin Martyr, Apol., ii, 10 (Socrates, early linked to Christ); Xenophon, Memorab.; cf. also Silius Italicus; Pliny the Younger, Epist., iii, 7; yet cf. Tacitus, Annal., XVI, 18-20 (Petronius). See also Y. Grise, Le suicide dans la Rome antique (CEA), Paris, 1982; S. MacAlister, Dreams and Suicides, London, 1997, chs 11-12. 167. Cato was well-known in the Asia Minor region for the annexation of Cyprus in 59 BCE. For other sources on his death, aside from Plutarch: Curiatius Maternus, Cat., apud Tacitus, Dialog., ii, 1; Thrasea Paetus, Vit. Cat.; Appian, Romaik., II, 99; Dio Cassius, Hist. Rom., XL. Note Caesar's Anticato; cf. Lucan, Pharsal., i, 128; ii, 381ff.; ix, 566ff. Also F. Poulsen, 'Caton et le jeune prince', AA, 18 (1947): 117ff. 168. M. L. Soards, The Passion Narrative According to Luke (JSNT Suppl. Ser, 14), Sheffield, 1987, pp. 124-5; cf. 56-7, 109-11. 169. A. George, Etudes sur l'oeuvre de Luc: sources bibliques, Paris, 1978, pp. 211-12; cf. R. V. G. Tasker, The Nature and Purpose of the Gospels, London, 1944, pp. 54-5. 170. Cf., e.g., Mark 10:45; Matt 2:28; Rom 3:25; 5:11; Heb 1:17; 13:12; 1 Tim 2:6; 1 John 2:2; 4:10; Rev 1:5. For further reflection: R. Brown, op. cit., vol. 1, sect. Ill. 171. Such usage is attested enough in historical texts to deflect criticism; e.g., see Thucydides, Hist., I, 1 [5]; [12]; Josephus, e.g., Contr. Apion., i, 26; Vita, 344. Luke seems lightly to be suggesting previous Hellenistic-Roman images of the dead returned to life, but Jesus' resurrection is no mere temporary remanifestation (Plutarch, Romul., xxvii, 6-7; xxviii, 1-2) or that of a haunting

104

172. 173.

174.

175. 176.

177.

178. 179. 180.

181.

182. 183.

Early Christian historiography ghost (Plutarch, Brut., xliiff.), nor is it unsubstantiated rumour (e.g., Tacitus, Annal., II, 39-40, 83). Cf. P. Carnley, The Structure of Resurrection Belief, Oxford, 1993 edn, ch. 2. But for Ernst Kasemann Luke's historical approach detracts from the challenge of the lifestyle of a Christian disciple for whom only 'the Cross' is a prospect and the happy ending of the Resurrection is as yet unknown: 'Neutestamentliche Fragen von heute', ZThK, 54 (1957), esp. 14ff. On hints of impending doom: see Esler, op. cit., p. 27, who follows E. J. Goodspeed, New Solutions of New Testament Problems, Chicago, 1927, pp. 94-100. On execution by decapitation: see Eusebius, Hist. Eccl, II, xxv, 5; Acta Pauli, x, 4, etc. (see also note 190 below), although G. H. C. Macgregor, 'The Acts of the Apostles', in IB, vol. 9, p. 351, believes the evidence points to Paul's death before Nero's reign. See Tromp£, Recurrence, pp. 123, 126-7; cf. Aune, op. cit., p. 119. Literary criticism: W. L. Knox, Some Hellenistic Elements in Primitive Christianity (Schweich Lectures, 1942), London, 1944, pp. 13-14; Dibelius, Aufsiitze zur Apostelgeschichte (FRLANT, 60), Gottingen, 1951, esp. pp. 172-80; Pliimacher, op. cit., esp. pp. 14-15; P. Pokorny, 'Die Romfahrt des Paulus und der antike Roman', ZNW, 64 (1973): 233-44. On historicity: see, e.g., K. Lake and H. J. Cadbury, 'The Acts of the Apostles', in F. J. Foakes-Jackson (ed.), The Beginnings of Christianity, London, 1920-33, vol. 4/1 on Acts 27-28; J. Munck, The Acts of the Apostles, Garden City, NY, 1967, pp. xlii-xliii, 249-53; cf. also Conzelmann, Die Apostelgeschichte (HNT, 7), Tiibingen, 1963, app. E; Haenchen, Die Apostelgeschichte (KEKNT), Gottingen, 1965, pp. 633-4. Note esp. Haenchen, op. cit., p. 635; J. C. O'Neill, The Theology of Acts in Its Historical Setting, London, 1961, pp. 62-3; and esp. Squires, op. cit., pp. 153-4, who concurs with the earlier version of the arguments presented here: G. B. Miles and Tromp£, 'Luke and Antiphon', HTR, 69 (1976): 260ff. See Goulder, Type, pp. 36-40, on Paul's voyage and shipwreck as Luke's parallel to Jesus' crucifixion and death. An awkward argument- but note Acts 28:lla, 12b, 17,23{3b. Dodds, Greeks and the Irrational, pp. 35-7, 38, 43-8. Fear of pollution persists even today in Greece: R. and E. Blum, The Dangerous Hour: The Lore of Crisis and Mystery in Rural Greece, London, 1970, pp. 298-300, 359 and passim. Peri tou Herod. phon., 82-3; cf. Miles and Tromp£, Zoe. cit., pp. 261-263. See also Pliimacher, op. cit., pp. 14-15; Brawley, 'Paul in Acts', in his Luke-Acts and the Jews, op. cit., ch. 5; S.M. Praeder, 'Acts 27:1-28:16: Sea Voyages in Ancient Literature and the Theology of Luke-Acts', CBQ, 46/4 (1984): 683ff. for many other Hellenistic shipwreck stories that may or may not be relevant. Cf. also Homer, Odyss., XII, 127-41, 259-446, for a fundamental example of a pertinent case. For similar evidence closer in time (fourth century seE): Lysias, Frgs 112-143 (W. R. M. Lamb edn, LCL); Andocides, De myster., 137-9 (trans. K. J. Maidment, Minor Attic Orators 1, LCL). Even a modern critic may be: cf. esp. R. P. C. Hanson, 'The Acts', The New Clarendon Bible: The New Testament, Oxford, 1967, pp. 28-35. Some interpreters have Paul survive the threat of execution to carry out further ministry: see J. N. D. Kelly, Commentary on the Pastoral Epistles (Black's New

Luke and his two books

184. 185. 186.

187.

188. 189. 190.

191.

192. 193.

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Testament Commentaries), London, 1963, pp. 26, 30; D. Guthrie, New Testament Introduction, Downer's Grove, IL, 1970, pp. 598-9; E. E. Ellis, The Authorship of the Pastorals: A Resume and Assessment of Current Trends', EvQ, 32 (1960): 151-61, and the literature cited there. See Cadbury, The Book of Acts in History, London, 1955, pp. 25-6; Haenchen, 'Das "Wir"', p. 360, n. 93, on the feared piratical 'barbarians'. See esp. Lactantius, Div. Inst., II, vii; xvii (Migne, PL, vol. 6, cols 290-1, 337-9). Thus Trompf in 'Introduction' to Trompf (ed.), Islands and Enclaves, New Delhi, 1993, p. xiii. In 28:2a ( ·rvxoiJaav cjJtJ...av8QWJrlav) and 1Oa ( TL/laf~ ertwwav) lie the origins of the Christian ideal of humanity. Cf also Chapter 7 below. See esp. D. Ladouceur, 'Hellenistic Preconceptions of Shipwreck and Pollution as a Context for Acts 27-28', HTR, 73/3-4 (1980): 443-9 (for the argument reinforcing the Miles-Trompf case). See also Dio Chrysostom, De Fortun. (Drat., lxiii), 4; Apollonius Rhodius, Argonaut., ii; 1ff.; cf. F. Chapouthier, Des Dioscures au service d'une deesse, Paris, 1935 (Dioscuri = Heavenly Twins). Note esp. 20:25, 38; 27:24; cf. also 28:16. The Western text of 28:16 has Paul under the charge of 'the prefect of the emperor's bodyguard' - but did such an office exist before the time of Trajan? Cf. Pliny, Epist., X, 57. See Trompf, Recurrence, p. 145 (also on the influences of Old Testament histories on Luke more generally). The phrase evtlletvev be &erlav OA'YJV of Acts 28:30a I interpret as a rather cryptic indication that Paul was allowed two years of freedom before something even more cryptically hinted at and much more ominous occurred (see above; cf. 2 Tim 4:16-18). Chronology is crucial here, and there are various authorities to choose from: see Eusebius (Chronica [ed. Jerome, Bodleian MS. Fol. 16, reprod. with intro. J. K. Fotheringham, Oxford, 1905); cf. Hist. Eccl, II, x:xvi, 1; III, v, 1), which locates Paul's death in the fourteenth year of Nero's reign (= 67-68 cE); and the fourth-century Liberian Catalogue of Saints, which dates it as early as 55 CE. I prefer to date Paul's arrival in Rome at c. 60 CE (following Metzger, op. cit., p. 74), but I tend towards taking seriously the possibility that Nero turned his face against the Christians, as Eusebius (albeit rather ambiguously) suggests (II, xxii, 8). This would have brought Paul up before a second tribunal (see 2 Tim 4:16-18) while Luke was still with him (4:11), and makes 2 Tim 4:6-21 an authentic 'last words' final message from Paul around which a pastoral epistle was later constructed (Barrett, The Pastoral Epistles, Oxford, 1963, pp. 10-11; yet cf. Trompf, 'On Attitudes Towards Women in Paul and Paulinist Literature: 1 Cor 11:35 and Its Context', CBQ, 42 [1980): 205-15, on the pastoral epistles as largely Paulinist). That John's birth, ministry and contemporary significance are allocated a comparatively large degree of attention (Luke 1:5-25, 57-80; 3:2-20; 7:24-35; 16: 16) makes the absence of a description of his death all the more marked and all the more remarkable. On the likelihood of imprisonment in Ephesus: see G. S. Duncan, Paul's Ephesian Ministry, London, 1929; against this: J. L. Boulden, Paul's Letters from Prison (PNTC), Harmondsworth, 1970, pp. 42-4. Trompf, Recurrence, pp. 121-34, 139-55 and the literature cited there.

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194. R. A. Johnson, He: Understanding Masculine Psychology, New York, 1977 edn (with caution). Cf. esp. Luke 1:26-58; 2:36-38; 4:26; 7:12, 37-50; 8:2-3, 19-21, 42b-48; 10:38-42; 13:10-17; 18:3-5; 21:2-4; 23:27-31; 24:1-11; Acts 1:14; 5:1-10, 14; 9:36-41; 12:13-15; 16:1-5; 18:2, 18, 26 (women); and esp. Luke 1:44; 13:34 par. Matt 23:37 (maternal care).

PART 2

Centrepiece: the Eusebian achievement

3

Towards historical triumphalism: Eusebius, Lactantius and their predecessors

Not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng But in ourselves, are triumph and defeat. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Poets

Between the time that Luke was wntmg and the fourth century when Eusebius of Caesarea completed his Ecclesiastical History, Christian historiography might seem to have been virtually non-existent. Certainly in comparison with the apologetics of early patristic times it is practically insignificant - a luxury that the emergent Christian tertium genus apparently could not afford, beset as it was by Jewish disparagement, 1 by persecution on the part of pagan authorities, 2 and by Gnostic defections. 3 Expectations of the imminent apocalypse, heightened by the troubles of the age, might easily have dampened the spirit of history-writing and rendered documentation of 'the time of waiting' irrelevant. Yet such a 'millenarian temperament' would surely have fed on quests to find 'the meaning of history', and it is strange that Luke - who had managed to combine an eschatological vision with his historiographical activities - should apparently be without successors. We might well feel that we deserve more from two and a half centuries of human experience and exegesis, but either the books we would like to see have not survived the test of time, or the writing down of history for the perusal of posterity was indeed no more or less than has been found: sporadic and patchy. In any case, most Jewish preoccupation with historiography was abandoned during the continuing destruction of Jerusalem between 68 and 138 CE. The Samaritans, whose own worst trauma now seemed long past, and whose mode of life and culture was less affected by the Romans, apparently kept up a tradition of keeping chronicles with some interest in the divine dispensation of rewards and punishments going back to the time of their original split from mainstream Judaism (in the days of the priest Eli). 4 But the Jewish thinkers, survivors in a thoroughly traumatized society, had all but lost confidence in history. Messianism had failed them, and

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virtually all the great apocalyptic writings ended up with Christian rather than Jewish application. 5 They fell back on the Torah, as if post-Mosaic events offered no secure reason for hope, with the result that in rabbinic teaching of the time retribution and reward revolve strictly around the Torah's ideal of the life of righteousness. 6 Not that it was impossible for anything of worth to derive from contemplation of the Torah. In the second-century 'Chronicles of Moses', for instance, the arrogance of Pharaoh and the fate that devolves upon him because of it are contrasted (implicitly) with the arrogance and eventual fate of Caligula (d. 41 cE; taken to be the first totally evil emperor of Rome). And the Israelites' continual reverting to wickedness, since the time even of the Exodus, means that the Pharaoh - who escapes the re-flooding of the Red Sea and repents before God - and his dynasty are permitted to rule over Assyria 'for 400 years' (indeed, until it is given to Assyria to rise up, conquer the wicked northern kingdom and harass Judah itself!).? It was the unchanging Torah, however - not any record compiled during a later period of history-revising- that was to be the pivot around which all other scriptures and memorials of human affairs would be analysed and adapted for meaning and example. From that perspective Rome might at times be seen to deserve a divine judgement like that on Edom or on the disobedient kings of past centuries, and the current debates of the rabbis, though controversialist, would bring about a 'permanent result', whereas those who argued with Moses in the desert met with a cataclysm. 8 Meanwhile the Greek and Latin writing of history consolidated under the rule of the Roman emperors. And extracting moral lessons from the accounts of events when they were publicly read out became something of a rhetorical cliche: it was something that was expected of an orator (cf. especially Lucian, Quom. hist. contrib. sit., 42} -expected both by the emperors, who doubtless looked for some literary expression of legitimacy of accession, and by an elite audience who wanted their 'traditional Roman virtues' reaffirmed. At least until the time of Diocletian (fl. 300), the variety of approaches exhibited by the pagan historians whose work is still extant is intriguing. Herodian - writing around 248 after 'a rapid succession of reigns, changed fortunes and military uprisings' - held to the view that events overall corroborated the principle declared by his favourite emperor, Marcus Aurelius (ruled 161-180}, that Those rulers who last the full length of their reigns free from all danger do so by inspiring in those they rule a genuinely heartfelt response to their benevolent and philanthropic works, not by inspiring fear through their cruelty and repression. (I, iv, 5; cf. ii, 3; iv, 8)

with the result that those rulers who are tyrannical and cruel, or those officials who revel in the power and possessions of their rank (like Cleander,

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the greedy chamberlain of Commodus), soon meet up with the adverse 'balance of fortune' (I, xiii, 7; xiv, 1-7; cf. xii, 4-7), and those who are too immature to deserve power, too young to know what to do with it, inevitably fall easy prey to the assassin. 9 Other historians took on grander, and sometimes less contemporary, themes. Appian, an Alexandrian who managed to earn himself a procuratorship in Rome, narrated his own version of the story of the Punic Wars. In contrast to Polybius, he attributes the eventual victory over Carthage to the workings more of 'God' (Theos) than of Fortune (see, for example, Hist. Rom., VII, iii, 12; VIII, viii, 53), 10 deliberately emphasizing Hannibal's underhandedness and the excesses of the Carthaginians in order to point up how much their final destruction was merited (see especially VIII, ix, 63-4, 131; cf. also x, 69). On the clash between Roman republicanism and imperialism Appian, in his Romaika (on the civil wars), wisely hedges his bets, whereas the more archival Dio Cassius - employed by Alexander Severus (in the 220s and 230s) to celebrate a millennium of Rome's existence- reads into the continual disruption of prolonged civil strife a genuine need for the strong authority of the emperors. On so many occasions - including during the time of the Gracchi - the Romans had divided themselves into two opposing factions, and paid for it (Hist. Rom., XLIV, xxv, 1-6; 11 cf. XXV), and a relatively stable balance at the last had been maintained from Julius Caesar's death on. This was not to deny that the fates of corrupt (and factionalizing) emperors such as Caligula and Domitian were supernaturally ordained (cf. LIX, xxix, 2 -xxx, 2; LXVII, xvii, 2 -xviii, 2), 12 on the subject of which both Appian and Dio Cassius fell back on the finest Republican virtues -on Cato the younger's 'pure motives'- as the basis for moral evaluationsY By the time of Constantine's reign many emperors had come and gone, and the annal-writers had become increasingly preoccupied with the overall quality of individual dictatorships. Compiled around 317, the multi-author Scriptores Historiae Augustae14 also reveal a mounting desire- after a cautious Suetonius-style beginning- to put an interpretation on the deaths of rulers. 15 'They met ends consistent with the manner of their lives' was the rather terse way Capitolinus described the deaths of both Opellius Macrinus and Antoninus Elagabalus - the one cruel and gluttonous, the other so immoral and disgusting that the thrusting of his corpse down the Roman sewers aptly rendered his death 'as foul as his life'. 16 Wearers of the purple in Diocletian's time were in this way shown the sort of depravities to avoid. Not surprisingly, the more stabilizing reigns - of Alexander Severus (ruled 222-235) and of both Claudius II (268-270) and Aurelian (270-275), for instance - were extolled, and their deaths reviewed with considerable sympathyY But fickle volatility between pietas and impudentia, and later between legitimate takeover and usurpation, came in for the gravest disapprobation.18 The policies of the administrative 'mastermind' Diocletian

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(ruled 285-305) were intended to stem the tide of territorial loss and to return things to how they had once been (the antiquus status). 19 A certain Flavius Vopiscus, the biographer of Carus and his sons in the Scriptores, attempted to compile a systematic assessment of the governorships of Roman rulers from Romulus right through to Galerius. Interspersed in his exegesis he included evidence of the effects of good and bad fortune but combined with it some moral evaluation of various reigns (Car., ii-iii). 20 Although he was familiar with what was perhaps to him a 'rhetorical convention' concerning straightforward moral retribution - since he says that the conspirator Aper 'left his life in a manner worthy of the way in which he had conducted it' (agens dignum moribus suis exitum dedit: Car., xiii, 2) - it is not difficult to perceive in his assessments how the patriotic appeal to a kind of collective mind-force sustaining Rome inevitably weakened the thrust of ethical criticism and prevented a more balanced application of it that was to come with the Christian monotheistic hermeneutics of events. For Vopiscus the insidious fear engendered by Vitellius and Nero, the crudelitas of Domitian, the luxuria of Gallienus, are never subject to the supernal judgement of a single almighty deity. They are appraised instead in terms of the same old fortuna, pax, aeternitas, Fortuna Redux, felicitas temporum or providentia Augusta of the Roman dominion. 21 According to this retributive logic, recognizable behind all the Scriptores, benefits come in terms of imperial successes in war, avoidance of disaster, material blessings, and welcome signs that 'the gods take vengeance [persequuntur] on enemies of the Roman people'. 22 Such were the powerful classical Graeco-Roman modes of thought that confronted the early protagonists of the new faith. In any case, the emergent Christians had all been brought up in this understanding of the world, although they now possessed the New Testament teaching to help them see through it. Their new beliefs made them a threat to - and at times the persecuted enemies of- Rome, so that the best Christian minds were unavoidably set on undermining this prevailing logic in order to defend themselves and make their case at the same time. 23 The main problem in dealing with such an ingrained viewpoint on life, however, was that it could too easily be adapted to suit the upholders of a spiritual victory. And besides, it also had a habit of catching up with any group that finally achieved temporal success.

The hiatus: sustaining Christian historical orientations during the time of persecution Long before Augustine wrote his extraordinary work The City of God, brilliantly countering the charge that Christians were responsible for weakening the Empire (see Chapter 7), other Christian apologists had preceded

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him in formulating similar arguments. Against those who presume to judge or who deem Christians to be public enemies that bring injury to the people and calamity to the Empire, the North African lawyer Quintus Tertullian (c. 160-c. 225) argues for a total reconsideration (Apol., i; xxxv; xxxix). Surely, he said, throughout the history of ancient Greece and Rome, the tardiness of the gods in coming to the aid of cities and communities in the face of cataclysmic disasters was something that was entirely to be regretted (xxv; xl) - although not utterly unexpected if the gods were themselves simply demonic rivals of the true God (xxii). The truth is, the human race [hum ana gens) has always deserved ill [male ... meruit] at the hands of God ... It was God's blessing they enjoyed before they constructed gods for themselves, ... and now they suffer at the hands of Him whom they have ignored and cut themselves off from. All the same, if we look back at the catastrophes [clades] of former times, we can see that we are affected less by them now, now that God has given Christianity to the world. For since that time, righteousness [innocentia] has curbed the world's wickedness, and people are beginning to avert God's wrath [deprecatores] through the medium of prayer. (xi)

Suddenly it is the pagan readers who are to be blamed for publica incommoda - although disruptions to the public calm are indeed attributable to the same despised Christian God, who naturally and reasonably sends them as punishments on the idolaters for their false worship and the accompanying venalities, specifically for beseeching Jove to send rain even as they wallow in 'banquets, baths, taverns and brothels' (xli; cf. xl). The Fathers of the Church based in North Africa were good at this sort of argument. Bishop Cyprian (d. 258), living in Carthage, wrote celebrated rejoinders to the magistrate Demetrian after he publicly agreed with local hotheads that Christians were responsible for plague, drought and the recurrence of warfare throughout the Empire (Ad Demet., ii-iii). Again those who make such accusations are asked to ponder whether they have any right to sit in judgement, and to consider further whether - in view of their crimes of persecution against God's people, particularly under Decius (ruled 249-250) - 'the wrath of God [ira Dei] ought therefore to increase, to the detrimental punishment of the entire human species [poenas generis humani]' (x; cf. xi-xiii). And indeed, the world could be seen to 'be growing old', the Empire to be swiftly declining into 'the ruination of business, the depression of the economy, the needless loss of its soldiery and the consequent inability to maintain the Empire's boundary fortifications'. 24 Moreover, persecution by the Roman authorities can certainly not go unavenged. The harmless and innocent (Christians) will not themselves retaliate, but there is 'without doubt a final reckoning to be made' (de secutura ultione securitas) that enables them to wait patiently in the meantime

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(xvii; cf. iv). And at the same time, if some of the Christians have themselves been at fault in failing to stand up for the faith or even in causing dissension during problematical times, then a 'trial' or something merited as a censura divina would of course be visited upon them (De laps., v-vi; cf. also xxiv-xxv}. The faithful should learn from the perseverance of Job (Testim., iii, 1, 6, 14, 54; Op. et Elem., 18). At the height of Diocletian's reign almost half a century later (from about 303}, the newly-converted black African Arnobius ofSicca was brave enough to start vociferating 'Against the Nations [or the Heathen]'. Once more the reason given for his pronouncements is to counter 'false blame' of the Christiana gens to the effect that From the time they first came into the world the entire globe [terrarum orbem] 25 has gone to ruin, ... the human race has been subject to many and diverse ills ... such that the universe has deviated from its own laws, and the gods have been driven far away. (Adv. gent., i, 1)

Arnobius is bent on demonstrating that notwithstanding any terrible flood, earthquake, plague or political upheaval that occurred during his time as it had occurred in past centuries, humanity's situation had genuinely improved post Christum. How could anyone seriously claim that the winters had become longer now, that the climate had changed for the worse, that animals were no longer breeding, and that 'the earth was refusing to accept the seed deposited into it' (i, 2; cf. 6)? 26 (So much for Cyprian's 'ageing world'!) And had the spirit of 'bestial ferocity' (feritas) and blood-lust not diminished since the time of Christ? Was a peaceful tranquillitas not now possible if people would only return to rationality and adopt the Christian lifestyle (6}? 27 These are points that the universal historian Orosius, who worked under Augustine at Hippo (see Chapter 8), was to pick up later. It has to be admitted here that most of the arguments put forward by the early apologists merely addressed pagan presuppositions on the workings of divine retribution as misguided belief. But they were additionally quite capable of dredging up historical examples to enliven their 'deconstructions'. Tertullian, for example, noted how Cybele the Great Mother had long before failed to come to the assistance of those who put up a defence against the eventual conquerors of Greece and Phrygia (110 BCE), and had likewise failed - despite prayers and entreaties - to help the emperor Marcus Aurelius at Sirmium (in 180 CE) (Apol., xxv). 28 Arnobius enthusiastically listed the calamities of the distant past, notably the annihilation of Atlantis, the vicious struggle between the kings and the priestly magi of the Chaldaeans, the abduction of Helen of Troy, the crossing of the Hellespont by the Persian Xerxes, and - by no means least - the subjection of many nations by the Macedonians and the Romans (Adv. gent., i, 5}. To this macrohistory he added allusions to natural disasters that had

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befallen Italians, and Romans in particular, including showers of stones, earthquakes and even a plague of snakes (3-4). 29 For those who he thought might be unduly perturbed by the horrifying nature of Jesus' death he invoked the miserable ends of Pythagoras, Socrates, Regulus and even of Hercules and Romulus, deploring the commonly-held contemporary view that 'no innocent person meets a cruel and shameful death' (40-1). 30 Besides, Jesus' Resurrection proved that he could 'rise above the Fates' (exsuperasse fatorum) (46-7). As the Glorified One, moreover, 'Christ assisted the good and the bad alike' (cf. Matt 5:45), and because he was the lord of all that happened, he could not be charged with rejecting anyone who sought help against violence or against ill-fortune (49). Making use of the past in this way - however significant it was in illustrating changes of mind-set and adaptations to new ideas of divine retribution31 - nonetheless has more to do with solving contemporary problems of adversity and with defending God's freedom to dispense whatever punishment (or reward) He wishes. All sorts of Christian reflections spring to mind at this point. The Gnostics were concerned in their philosophy to relate the nature of reality to the problem of God and evil, and tended therefore to associate only the God of the Old Testament with punishment and retribution, so leaving the evidently different God of the New Testament out of the question. Marcion (d. c. 160) even criticized Yahweh/Jehovah for the maltreatment of insects. Mani (d. c. 274) - the founder of the Manichaean variant of Christianity - urged a dualist philosophy positing the absolutely separate existence of good and evil, apparently because, as a cripple brought up among Encratite Judaeo-Christians (who among other things eschewed meat, wine and marriage), he hated their teaching that all ills stem from divine punishment. 32 In the Alexandria of Origen (c. 185-c. 254), the major teaching- harking back to Philo's - effectively allegorized and spiritualized the old Hebrew traditions of divine retribution. Origen himself proclaimed a doctrine of universal purification in a multi-staged cosmos - one not governed by differing degrees and forms of punishment but by overall impartiality (De princip., I, ix, 8; cf. x; III, i, 23-4; vi, 1ff.) more in accord with the New Testament's 'meaning of the spirit' (Contra Cels., vi, 19). When Origen characteristically failed to take Jesus' reference to the 'two swords' literally (Hom. Levit., vii, 5; cf. Luke 22:36, 38), 33 other more orthodox souls felt bound to counter Gnostic denigration of the Judaic God by pointing up the evidence of divine retribution in both Testaments (cf., for example, Luke 12:46-47). 34 Yet others engaged in the writing and dissemination of consolatio literature,35 which developed out of the hope of the martyrs for resurrection in spite of their tragic deaths, and from a collective yearning for a final cosmic denouement to compensate for their persecution. 36 What, then, of those few history-oriented narrative writings of the time

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between Luke and Eusebius that are still extant? In the martyrological texts the emphasis is certainly on God's acts of redemption and vindication which remain unseen by the persecutors. In a diary completed in prison just before her death during the Games in the amphitheatre at Carthage in 203, Perpetua tells of her vision in which she is transformed into a magnificent male gladiator who wins an ultimate victory (Pass. Perpet. et Felic., 10).37 The anonymous narrator of the Martyrium Polycarpi (writing in the late 150s) explains Polycarp's execution as an 'election' from among God's servants (xx, 1) such that he was 'appointed' to become a partaker with Christ. Those who betrayed him (from within his own household) meanwhile underwent the same punishment (Ttf..lW(!ia) as Judas (vi, 1).38 Mors ultima ratio, but the value of the event was far less in the outward form by which death was meted out than in the subsequent reckoning before God as ultimate Judge after all, in respect of divine retribution, the weight given to post-mortem Judgement is surely the most important index of Christianity's transformation of the classical heritage. 39 Polycarp's friend Papias, who compiled traditions of Jesus and of the beginnings of the faith, may have passed down an alternative story of the consequences of Judas' 'impiety' ( aaef3ew) involving the gross swelling of Judas' body then crushed by a chariot so that the bowels gushed out (Frg. 3), but what little else we possess from his five books concerns the degrees of bliss and of punishment in the afterlife or under Christ's millennia! reign (Frgs 5-6).40 Those who tried to write memorials of the time and the circumstances that were slightly more detached from the heat of persecution by comparison showed a measurably wider interest in the terrestrial signs of God's judgements. Hegesippus (mid-second century) produced five (now fragmentary) books of Memories, largely comprising criticism of the Gnostics, which provided some of the source material for Eusebius' famous Ecclesiastical History. Although there appear to be no passages describing the deaths of individual heretics - unless it was Hegesippus who came up with the story of Peter's bringing the 'levitating' sorcerer Simon Magus down to earth in Rome (Apost. const., vi, 9) 41 - it is at least possible to infer certain Hegesippian conclusions about the final fates of some groups of humans. The Church is faced with efforts to 'undermine the strength of its faith' because the time of those who had personal contact with the apostolic age is past (apud Eusebius, Hist. eccles., III, xxxii, 7). 42 Hegesippus - perhaps because he was a Jewish Christian who took for granted the necessity of priestly succession - duly endeavoured to shore up the defences of true tradition by citing the existence of an 'apostolic succession'Y His high regard for continuity apparently led him to believe that the stoning to death of James the Just, the first4 4 head of the Church in Jerusalem, was a terrible act

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perpetrated by the Jewish leadership there and 'avenged' by God through the devastation of the city by Roman forces. Origen, in the mid-240s, was aware of this view, although he ascribed it confidently but wrongly to Josephus. He amended it, however, with the claim that it was the doing to death of Christ that was the real cause of such a catastrophe for the Jews (Comment. in Matt., x, 7; Contra Cels., i, 147). Post-Lucan speculation about 'the darkness that covered the earth' at the time of the Crucifixion confirmed Origen in his own 'more reasonable' conclusion that it was for Jesus' death, not James', that the Jews were punished, whereas Hegesippus had limited the connection to James simply because Vespasian attacked the Jews 'immediately after' James was martyred (apud Eusebius, Hist. eccles., II, xxiii, 15; cf. Josephus, Antiq., XX, 200ff.). 45 Piecing together other pre-Eusebian narratives with their interpretations of events and fates in the past is a difficult task. The wealth of apocryphal New Testament material comprises something of an embarrassment of later hagiographical works which tend to present text that is open to some question in both presentation and intention. It is hard work to arrive at the genuine data behind them. Yet we neglect the extra-canonical acta apostolorum at our peril, 46 for the effects of love and of evil are dramatically outlined in their pages. In the late second-century Acts of Andrew, for instance, it is by no means impossible to anticipate that the proconsul Aegeates - the 'wicked' schemer who puts the holy Andrew to death and attempts to force the faithful Maximilla into marriage - will 'hurl himself off the edge of a great height and die' (Pass. Andr. [= J. S. Detorakis edn., pp. 345-6, 351-2]).47 A more austere example is to be found in the Acts of Paul, where Paul's female companion Thecla is saved from burning at the stake by 'the God of vengeance' who threatens both an earthquake and a fire-quenching storm so imminently 'that many perceived themselves in danger and died' (Acta Pauli, 17, 21). 48 Behind the earlier second- or third-century layer(s) of the Acts of John we find in contrast a gentler text. Here, even so dreadful a personality as the evil Callimachus - who plumbs the absolute depths of base inhumanity by having sex with the corpse of the saintly Drusiana - may be transformed to become a penitent convert. It is true that he is then bitten by a snake and dies - but the apostle John raises him from death so that he may come to comprehend the true life of 'great compassion and infinite forbearance', and know that God 'has given us not vengeance but repentance', 'has not punished us but pitied us', and 'has borne us no ill-will even though we persecuted the brethren' (Act. ]oh., 77, 81; cf. 63-4, 70-2; but cf. 81-4 on Drusiana being also brought back to life). 49 This is the vision of an utterly new world: a world in which those who

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defend idols are commiting sacrilege while those who overturn such images accrue no miasma, commit no crime and are therefore not brought low by a divine penalty. 5° Between the time of the events of the New Testament and the time that Constantine declared Christianity a religio licita (in 313) we have to imagine a small sea of proponents of this fast-growing - if spasmodically persecuted - tertium genus, constantly interpreting and reinterpreting events of the past and of the contemporary present in competition with pagan interpreters who had their own preconceptions. Increased access to Biblical traditions caused the beginning of a process of 'democratization' in historical consciousness across a wide range of populations unused to thinking in historical terms. 5 1 It also engendered a different way of looking at life and death, and of evaluating both. Luke was crucial to that process. Of the Evangelists he was by far the most concerned to impart information, and he was the only one to go on to narrate what happened to the apostles after the Resurrection. The style in which he wrote lent authority and historicity to Jesus' mission. 5 2 So it is not unlikely that commentaries on his Gospel - particularly those by Origen and by Pierus (sometimes called 'Origen the Younger') -were as inspiring and as productive of further initiatives as was the work of Hegesippus to Eusebius and the ecclesiastical historians. 5 3 And all the while, as interpretation of the Bible led also to the interpretation and demythicizing of other traditions, the deconstructive and philosophical extrapolation of truth was pitching one consequently more effectively defended notion of retributive logic against another. Firmianus Lactantius (c. 240-c. 320), another African and great Western Father of the Church, powerfully exemplifies these processes and is at the same time remarkable for grasping just how significant the issue of divine retribution was in the formation and transformation of religious outlooks. He falls right between the old order and the new. Having been a pupil of Arnobius at Sicca Veneria (on the road from Carthage to Hippo), he was deprived of his post as imperial orator after converting to Christianity (around 301) and found financial security only in his old age when Constantine appointed him tutor of his son Crisp us (313) - albeit for much of the time in remote Trier (from 318). 54 His writings demonstrate at the same time a certain bitterness, doubtless due to his experiences under Diocletian and his witnessing at first hand the Great Persecution (303-312), as well as a stridently triumphalist mode of expression, evidently as a result of his excited expectations of the new Constantinian support for Christianity. His career and his works and responses to the religious changes of his time are slightly earlier than those of the great Eusebius of Caesarea, yet it is necessary to introduce him and his ideas of retributive logic at this point in order that we may return to him

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again in due course towards the end of this chapter and compare his evaluations of historical events with those of Eusebius. It was while he was in the socio-political wilderness that Lactantius produced his monumental Divinae Institutiones, together with a much smaller but related tract on the wrath of God (De Ira Dei). 55 A recent convert, Lactantius had barely absorbed any knowledge of the Bible, and these works accordingly contain (perhaps surprisingly) few allusions to Scripture. Yet they reflect a skilful deployment of Graeco-Roman traditions, including the Sibylline oracles of Rome, in his commendation of the justice of the Almighty as extolled by the Christian apologists of his time. 56 His total self-confidence in pursuing his arguments in his own idiosyncratic manner seems to have resulted from an opinion that the old method of quoting the Bible at pagans - as employed by Cyprian and Arnobius, and perhaps also in his own experience- was no longer effective (cf. Ira Dei, i). 57 In rather a Stoic vein, Lactantius examines the parallels and the differences between the Divine Father of the universe and the ideal human father, justifying in both an anger which brings to bear a necessary poena for the correcting of future behaviour, provided that that anger is accompanied by a recognizable forbearance, a moderation, and the desire to pardon (xviii-xx). God concedes to humans the right to become angry - indeed, He grants them the liver as the seat of this emotion and allows them some of His own capacity for discerning fault. But He will not tolerate sustained anger (cf. Eph 4:28), let alone uncontrolled rage. The wrath of God, mind you, lasts for no measurable duration of time (cf. ad praesens) as human anger does. Being 'eternally and perfectly righteous, He is never angry - other than for good reason' (miri merito) (xxi) - and the effects of this anger are unknowable in advance. The extent of God's patientia and temperantia, and the unimaginable wisdom that sustains them, are evident from the fact that corrupt and ignoble individuals who at one stage seem to deserve everything God can throw at them may at a later stage turn out to live worthy and laudable lives. Moderation on a divine scale is in any case essential to the continued existence of humankind, for if all the evil actions of humans were to be punished- including 'so great a number of sins [that are] kept hidden' and therefore not subject to public prosecution - then 'few people or no people at all would be left on Earth' .58 Yet if God is long-suffering, He nonetheless 'punishes the guilty, albeit some time afterwards' (quamvis sero, noxios punit) once He has concluded that they are 'incorrigible' (inemendabiles) and so cannot be permitted to go on doing what they have been doing (xx). Significantly, those who persecute Christians for their faith are singled out as committing 'a sin that is irredeemable', bringing down upon themselves eternal punishment in the afterlife (Div. Inst., V, xx). Those who

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harass the faithful must be brought to realize that although 'the God of surpassing power' may do nothing to stop (patitur) the ill-treatment of martyrs, He will avenge (vindicat) His worshippers in time and for eternity (xxii). By bearing with aequanimitas such evils, such 'wages of injustice' (injustitiae praemia), and doing so with the true virtus of their forbearance (patientia) as humans, 5 9 Christians reveal the kind of brotherhood (fraternitas) and pietas extolled as ideal by the most respected pagan philosophers.60 The faithful, who are 'uncorrupted by prosperity' (cf. also Seneca, De provid., ii), are aware, even during their terrible ordeals, of the impossibility of being regarded as anything but sinners by 'our most indulgent Father' (xxiii), while also having to accept the worldly reality that the wicked are 'for the most part' (plerum) more fortunate in earthly terms, and the good more wretched (Ira, xvi). In bracing themselves for persecution rather than simply abandoning the faith under pressure from the 'insolent', they in fact gain more converts (xxii; cf. also Tertullian, Apol., i, 15)! Those Christians who endure to the end themselves exemplify the forbearance, the patience (patientia), of God - of the God who waits to forgive those who turn away from their sinful madness through 'the last remedy' of repentance (Div. Inst., lxvii) while He remains ready both to destroy Rome for 'holding His name in loathing' (Div. Inst., VII, xv; cf. xvi-xix) and to punish the souls of the wicked in an everlasting hell (xxi). Articulated during the time of the worst of the persecutions and under personal adversity, these arguments are both powerful and understandable. They eventually develop into a 'historical theodicy' by which the reprieve represented by Constantine's conversion to Christian ideals together with Lactantius' own reflections on the dread fates of past persecutors combine to illustrate further God's providential timing with its complementary vindication and forbearance. His initial ebullience in the light of Constantine's legislation to 'eliminate all vestiges of persecution' burst out in a panegyric on the return of a Golden Age (Orat. ad Sanct.; cf. Div. Inst., VII, ii, xxiv). 61 A celebrated orator at court, he was finally back in political favour himselfand for the whole body of the faithful the 'house of justice had been providentially restored'. Moreover, on the outset of the new prosperitypromising reign of pietas, those who had once defended unholy superstitions now lay 'ruined', suffering the 'poena for their guilt' (addend. to Div. Inst., II, xxvi [thusfinis]). 62 But around 318 there were suddenly signs that Constantine's co-emperor Licinius intended to renege on his sympathetic dealings with Christians. The ageing Lactantius felt obliged to gather his strength and fight in a renewed battle of ideologies - and the weapon he chose was history. In his De mortibus persecutorum there is accordingly a deliberate and caustic reappropriation of ancient, and particularly pagan, emphases on the correspondence between wrongful acts in the past and their consequences.63 He demonstrated

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how consistently those emperors and imperial officials who had persecuted or provided serious opposition to the Christians had died fearsome deaths 'the adversaries of God ever receiving a wage worthy of their crime' (v). In no time at all, Lactantius was exposing his unmistakably anti-pagan sentiments: the emperors before Constantine were nothing but criminals who had to pay for their evil deeds. 64 Unlike pagan historians he could hardly deem such miscreants 'worthy to be numbered among the gods', and it was the arrogance of the former emperors rather than the sacrilege of the Christians that he credited as the root cause of the empire's troubles. 65 As persuasively as he could, Lactantius turned popular pagan historiographical assumptions to the service of the Christian God - a God who thus became the 'driver' of the age-old operation of retributive principles,66 yet a God who not only thus brought down vengeance upon the persecutors but who also rewarded the innocent through the restoration of His Church under Constantine.67 That there is a delay before the Final Victory may be ascribed to God's own patient forbearance: the Almighty possesses not a shadow of capriciousness. A positively ethical monotheism leaves nothing to the workings of mere fortuna: 68 the persecutors are to be regarded as a series of 'monumentally noteworthy examples from which posterity may learn that there is but one God' (Mort. pers., i). Most of these unworthy emperors are, significantly, described as tyrannides- which makes them worse even than the usurper-tyrants of the Scriptores Historiae Augustae. 69 Only Constantine stands apart as 'the great exception', defending the true religion at God's chosen time. As we shall see, the official propaganda put about on behalf of Constantine lampooned imperial opponents as 'tyrants', yet Lactantius was more than happy to apply the same epithet to much earlier candidates. Yes, some of the previous emperors he selected for this dishonour - like Nero and Domitian - had already received a bad press from pagan historians. 70 But that only gave the Christian polemicist more leverage, allowing for an innovative enlargement of the list to include Decius, Valerian and Aurelian, not to mention Diocletian and the other adversarii Dei. 71 Lactantian triumphalism thus carried with it a certain unforgiving spirit deriving from classical antiquity, in which blame could be readily cast on monarchs as representatives of their subjects, and in which historians had heard no call to forgive 'seventy times seven'. Still influenced by the evils of persecution, history-writers found it difficult to forgive the perpetrators of those evils, and of course the writing of history hardly lent itself to forgetting. Lactantius' lifetime and career thus provide a benchmark denoting a considerable change in attitude after more than 200 years of Christian history: the notion of retributive justice passes from the old defensive to the new aggressive, from providing hope for the desperate and oppressed to equipping the 'winners of the day' with a vibrant ideology.

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But Lactantius was by no means the only Christian triumphalist of the era. And - as we now move on to examine the development of Church histories - there can be no better person with whom to compare him than his virtual contemporary, Eusebius Pamphili (c. 260-c. 340), Bishop of Caesarea, the 'father of Church history', and yet another solid champion of Constantine's 'cause'. It may in any case be more sensible to leave off further assessment of the Lactantian approach to imperial events and persecutions until we have presented another major Christian position with which to compare it - and it is certainly appropriate from the point of view of chronology to turn now to the great Eusebius.

Reflections with relief: explaining God's victory under the Pax Constantiniana In May 312, according to Eusebius' Ecclesiastical History, Maximin Daia promulgated an official rescript - an imperial decree combined with a statement of pagan ideology- in response to the petitions of urban Christians in the eastern provinces of the Roman Empire (Hist. eccles., IX, vii, 1-15). 72 Some four years had by then elapsed since the Roman world had been subjected 'for the first, and indeed the last, time' to the rule of six emperors at once.73 Although he was included in this sextumvirate, however, Maximin was by 312 one of only four real contenders for power in the divided empire/4 The nephew of Galerius, he was as dangerous to the Church as his uncle had ever been (cf. VIII, xvi-xvii; Frg. 4), and quickly came to be regarded as a tyrant by the partisans of the pre-Christian Constantine, who was eventually to be the supreme victor in the power-struggle. The extent of coverage given to Maximin's rescript in Eusebius' Ecclesiastical History is intriguing. The effort Eusebius spent in translating such a long non-Christian document was clearly not simply for the sake of thorough historical documentation (for which he is famous), nor was it merely to emphasize how tyrannical were the actions of Maximin, whose death marked the end of the 'enemies of godliness' in an earlier edition of Eusebius' work (IX, xi, 1).75 These are factors to be taken into account, certainly, but there are others. To enable his readers to witness these finaF 6 assertions of paganism was of strategic importance to the overall structure of his History. The rescript that Eusebius copied from a tablet in Tyre basically restates the perennial assumptions of both official and parochial paganism in the Mediterranean area - namely, that the honouring of the gods brings security and prosperity, while impiety leads only to shame and suffering. Zeus ... presides over your widely-renowned city - he who protects your family deities, your women and children, your home and hearth from all

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harm .... For who can have so little sense ... as not to perceive that it is by the beneficent guardianship of the gods that the earth does not refuse the seeds deposited in it, nor render futile the hopes of the husbandman? (IX,

vii, 8)

There will be no unholy war, nor will hurricane or earthquake strike, where and when there is piety (evaef3eta) involving due veneration and sacrifices to propitiate the gods (IX, vii, 8, 11, 14). Julian, Symmachus and Zosimus were to put the case more trenchantly, perhaps (see below in Parts 3 and 4), but the rescript levels an accusing finger at 'godless men' who have fallen into 'deadly error', and directs that they forthwith be expelled from the city so that the citizens may avoid 'the contamination of impiety'. And to obey this edict was itself proclaimed an act of piety towards the immortal gods a deed that might constitute a witness (f-la(JTV(Jia) to the fact that Caesar's benevolence had bestowed on the citizens and their descendants a veritable 'games-winner's trophy' for what they had done/ 7 The rescript represents the prevailing - and in this case, official understanding of divine rewards and punishments. 'Give, in order that you may receive' ... and woe betide those who do not have anything to offer. This is precisely the popular logic, however, that Eusebius was trying to turn on its head. His contention was that the unprecedented disruption and dissection of the Roman world was the direct result of the persecution of the Christians (VIII, xiii; xiv, 11-12, 18). Ten years (303-313) of harassing Christians, he maintained, had caused the empire no end of upsets, what with many of the sea-lanes no longer open to navigation, the constant fear of attack by enemies, and the ill-treatment of refugees trying to escape from one arena of war or another (VIII, xv, 1-2). So it is with a certain relish, therefore, that Eusebius describes how the posting of the rescript - which he deems arrogant boasting (f-teyaA.avxia) in the face of the true God (IX, vii, 16; viii, 3; cf. VIII, x, 1)- was followed in swift succession by famine, plague, another epidemic he calls 'anthrax', and a costly war against the Armenians which ravaged the eastern provinces (IX, viii, 1-2).78 The vivid sketch of the famine and the plague outlined by Eusebius (IX, viii, 3-12) would appear to be highly relevant to the overall unity of his History, because it recalls the shocking and detailed accounts of famine in Jerusalem during the Jewish War and of the plague in Alexandria at the time of Dionysius the Great - both catastrophes highlighted by Eusebius by means of lengthy quotations from his sources earlier in his work (III, vi, 1-28; VII, xxi, 2-xxii, 10).79 The dreadful suffering of the Jews, it is there plainly stated, was God's punishment (rtf-lW(Jia) for the Jews' impiety (~vaaef3ew) towards 'the Christ of God' (III, v, 6-7; vii, 1).80 And- although it is difficult to see what real point he was trying to make - Eusebius also implies that the plague in Alexandria took its heavy toll just when the virtuous and peaceable

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emperor Gallienus was struggling to supplant his wicked opponents (VII, xxii, 12- xxiii, 3; cf. xxi, 1, xxii, 1).81 In this way Eusebius suggests that the situations of Jerusalem and Alexandria in the past were not all that different from the situation in the Empire at the time of Maximin's rescript. After all, Maximin was the most evil antagonist of the beloved Constantine, whose victory and subsequent reign of peace were just around the corner (313). 82 In Eusebius' mind, then, the terrible calamities that follow hard on the heels of the posting of the rescript both give the lie to the false assumptions of the populace and foreshadow the toppling of the rescript's tyrannical author- who must soon submit to the Almighty's vindication of the Christians (IX, x, 3-15). Before Constantine finally achieved total supremacy over his three rivals, he had already sought to present himself as the legitimate defender of the Senatus populusque Romanus against tyranny. Both he and Licinius made much of celebrating the victory over Maxentius in 312 in that light (cf. IX, ix, 11; [Eusebius], Vit. Const., i, 38), although Licinius was later to fall into the category of 'tyrant' himself, so that Constantine was obliged to suppress the insurgencies he instigated (Hist. eccles., X, ix, 2-6; cf. Vit. Const., ii, 11-18). Eusebius' heavy emphasis on the overthrow of the three tyrants, in the last books of his History, thus evidently reflects official Constantinian propaganda (the final version of which Eusebius might himself have had some part in putting together). 83 Constantine's later, more developed, approach to the logic of retribution is to be found as a general statement in his official Letter to the People of the Provinces (of 323). It notes how those who in former times have striven to observe 'justice and righteousness' as 'the basis of human affairs' have succeeded in doing all the things they set out to do, obtaining all kinds of temporal blessings [literally, 'sweet fruit from the most delightful roots'] as reward, while those who deal in unrighteousness and arrogance such as to cause them in their madness to antagonize the Almighty [ro XQefrmv] and the rest of the human race ... have been punished. (apud Vit. Const., ii, 25; cf. 28)84

In essence, the letter simply appropriates the traditional Graeco-Roman assumptions so eagerly exploited by Maximin, but suggests instead that Christianity - not paganism - brings those results that tyrants are unable to achieve. It does what Eusebius saw as his own particular task: it turns the previous official line upside down. 85 It naturally follows, then, that the Eusebian approach to retributio shares a good number of basic ingredients with the new imperial platform. Taking an attitude for which he has more than once been criticized, the historian has apparently espoused the naive (some might say, shallow) optimism of

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the opportune moment. 86 Moreover, he has exerted himself in defence of the Constantinian order by exaggerating the injustices perpetrated by the deposed triad in order to stress the deserved nature of their defeats and dismal deaths. Even Licinius - whose persecutions were, after all, relatively localized and mostly limited to army personnel;87 who was probably innocent of the charges of 'tyranny' officially brought against him; 88 and whom, along with Constantine, Eusebius had at first acclaimed as a pious ruler, loving virtue and God (Hist. eccles., IX, ix, 9)- is eventually portrayed as the worst of all tyrants. Indeed, with Licinius evil seems to reach its highest pitch, so that he is described as being rather like the Platonic TV(>avvo~ (opposed to cpvat~), taking madness to extremes, subverting time-honoured laws, extorting wealth for himself, revaluing properties and imposing summary banishments, 89 all immediately before the best Roman governance of them all is established. Furthermore, Licinius' defection is shown itself to have been in particular a matter of his own foolishly forgetting the new understanding of retributive principles and the punishments to be visited on great tyrants who persecute Christians and who 'make war on God Himself' (Hist. eccles., X, viii, 9; Vit. Const., i, 59). Providence had also previously assured Constantine of divine protection (Hist. eccles., VIII, xiii, 14) in his escape from the clutches of Diocletian (Vit. Const., i, 20-21) and at least one assassination attempt - the agent of this plot dying 'a most shameful death' ( alaxianp xamm(>tcpet 8awxnp) (Hist. eccles., VIII, xiii, 15; cf. Lactantius, Mort. pers., xxiv, xxix-xxx). But even if these elements of Eusebiana match and sustain the new 'court ideology', it is important to bear in mind that Eusebius was interested in many more events than those that had so recently seen the empire reunified to the relief of the Christians (cf. Hist. eccles., X, ix, 2, 6-9; Vit. Const., ii, 19-24). After all, his History takes us right back to the life of Christ and displays Eusebius' further concerns with matters anthropological as well as the happenings of Old Testament times (Hist. eccles., I, ii, 23; v, 1 - xiii, 22; cf. ii, 18-22; iv, 5-14; Praep. Evang., i-ii). 90 The stress on tyranny and its penalties, moreover, comes towards the end of his History. And although he labours the point that five evil emperors from Diocletian onwards paid horribly for their sins,91 he evidently had no access to the sort of inside information on court history that was available to his contemporary Lactantius, who could describe the consistently hideous deaths of the imperial persecutors as far back as Nero. 92 In any case, the structure of Eusebius' ecclesiastical history demands that equal space is given to the internal concerns of the Church - that 'indestructible, invincible' and 'most populous of all nations' (Hist. eccles., I, iv, 2; cf. V, praef 4; X, iv, 19, 24) -and to the affairs of those bent on exterminating this veov UJvo~. I stand by the statement I have made elsewhere, to the effect that

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Eusebius 'was less interested in recurrent instances of retribution ... than in the plan of salvation which made world Christianization possible under Constantine'. 93 On the other hand, I must concede that retributive logic holds a central place in his historiographical hermeneutics because he felt he simply had to explain why the Deity was working on behalf of Christianity and not for its opponents. A significant part of that explanation lay in documenting the unpleasant fates that befell enemies of God, and explaining them as the concomitant 'accidents' (av!lf3ef3rp,6r:a) or 'occurrences' (avJlc/JO(!a{) of history as willed by God (Praep. Evang., vii, 12; Demonstr. Evang., v, 5; vi, 6; Hist. eccles., II, v, 6; vi, 3; III, v, 7; V, praef; ii, 1; Vit. Canst., i, 23). 94 And in this connection Eusebius was the obvious inheritor of both Biblical and Graeco-Roman historiographical perspectives, displaying what was a consequential enthusiasm for discerning a moral order behind the events of the past. In particular, the first two books of the History show him to have taken his interpretative cue from Luke - on whom he wrote a commenta~ 5 - with the stylistic support of Josephus and the Evangelist Matthew. 96 If one of Luke's motives in writing a sequel to his Gospel had been to indicate how the wicked were punished, then Eusebius, for his part, expands upon these verdicts of history with a good deal more detail and intricate argument, featuring them as lessons that foreshadow the retributive events of his own day. Herod the Great, having dared to try to murder the Christ (and all those of the same age in the area), was the recipient of Divine Justice in the form of a horrible wasting disease (Hist. eccles., I, viii, 3-15). Josephus- presumably following Nicolaus of Damascus - is quoted extensively on the subject of the king's terminal condition (which may or may not have been schistosomiasis) (Antiq., XVII, 168-92). There is no comparable-i.e. exhaustiveaccount of a persecutor's final illness in Eusebius' History until he describes the fate of Maximin (Hist. eccles., IX, x, 13-15). 97 Herod receives his 'entirely deserved penalty' immediately because of his attempt to kill the infant Jesus and for his slaughter of the innocents (I, viii, 16; cf. 1).98 Pontius Pilate, whose end is not mentioned in the New Testament, is held to have committed suicide, again through the workings of Divine Justice (II, vii). And both the lesser Herods, Antipas and Agrippa I - who are not distinguished from each other in Luke-Acts - suffer badly: the former has to contend with perpetual exile for his many crimes, and the latter dies with a belly full of maggots, which is ascribed yet again to the manifestation of Divine Justice because he was responsible for the death of the apostle James (II, iv, 1; ix, 4-x, 10).99 Unlike Luke, of course, Eusebius was in a position to quote Josephus at length on the terrible famine and civil strife that overtook Jerusalem during the Roman siege of 70 CE (III, v, 4- viii, 11). Although the historian evinces a touch of regret that it was the pagans who

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pitilessly destroyed the Jewish ethnos (II, xxvi, 2; cf. III, v, 1 -vi, 2), it is because of their own crimes against the Saviour that the Jews suffer reversals from the time of Pilate on (II, vi, 3; cf. I, i, 2). Indeed, the true Jewish priesthood had ceased just before Christ's coming, 100 as had the (preHerodian) Jewish kingship (I, vi, 1-11),1° 1 so that because Jesus himselfthen fulfilled the best of Israel's institutional roles, only destruction awaited the corrupt remnants - as Luke-Acts specifically indicated (cf. II, vi, 8; xi, 1-3 [cf. Acts 11:27-30; 5:36]; xx, 1-xxi, 3; IV, ii, 1-5; vi, 1-4; viii, 4). 102 Divine Justice was visited on this people primarily because of their violent reception of the Christ (II, vi, 8; III, v, 3, 6-7; vii, 1), yet they still went on to become the first persecutors of the Christians (II, i, 8; iii, 3, xxiii, 1 - xxv, 24; III, v, 2-3; cf. IV, viii, 4; xviii, 7), after which Eusebius writes as if pagan opposition to the Christians arose only as a result of these first (Jewish) calumnies (II, ix, 1-4; xxii, 4; xxv, 1-8; but cf. III, xvii; xxii-xxiii). Eusebius also cites a complementary view - allegedly held by Josephus, but probably deriving from Hegesippus or Origen- that the fall of Jerusalem was God's judgement (ex6ixrym~) on the Jews for the death o[James the Just, the brother ofJesus (II, xxiii, 20; cf. above). 103 Eusebius' language of retribution is geared to meet the preconceptions of two audiences: those steeped in the knowledge and traditions of the Bible, and those familiar with the devices of Greek historiography (particularly intellectuals at the imperial court who had no background knowledge of Christian history at all). As for the first of these audiences, we must remember that the Old Testament historical books harp constantly on the theme that Yahweh punishes evil and vindicates obedience (see Chapters 1 and 2). Much in the Prophets and in the Psalms (and thus much of the poetry that is such a feature of the episcopal rhetoric) voices the prospect of dire penalty befalling the enemies of God. 104 However, any traces of a virtually hypostatized L!ixry in either Septuagint or New Testament are few 105 - and this encourages suspicion that Eusebius' choice oflanguage was governed more by Hellenistic convention. Commending the ways of Justice is, of course, characteristic of contemporary Greek literature, and we have already seen how even the less predictable Tyche might be 'tamed' into being presented as a moral arbiter (even by the Greekwriting Jewish author Philo, let alone Polybius and Diodorus). Yet 'Divine Justice' in Eusebius, although frequently invoked, is evidently more selfconsciously de-Hellenized in tone. He is capable ofless monotheistic-looking alternatives (such as rf a;ia &xry), 106 but the early preponderance of the phrase rf 8da Dixry would seem to reflect the influence of the pseudepigraphic (in some uncials, Septuagintal) 4 Maccabees (first century CE) - a short work which Eusebius himself attributed to Josephus (Hist. eccles., III, x, 6) but which, unlike the Josephan corpus, includes this distinctive expression, and as many as seven times. 107

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It was in this way, then, that the age-old theme of just deserts (important in the then known ancient world from as far east as Persia to the Latinspeakers of the west}l 08 was intelligently disseminated in a revised form to correspond with what was acceptable under the new dispensation, that unique unfolding order within which Gentiles had become the inheritors of Jewish salvation history. 109 At this point, however, we should outline some of the problems that Eusebius faced as he endeavoured to account for the distribution of divine recompense over the first three Christian centuries. Between the total catastrophe experienced by the Jews in and around Jerusalem and Constantine's crushing of the 'tyrants' - that is, between the opening and closing sections of the History - considerable space is allocated to documenting some of the most malignantly cruel tortures ever devised by humankind (especially III, xxxi-xxxvi; IV, xv-xvii; V, praef, 1-3; VI, xxxix-xliv; cf. VIII, iv-xiii; Mart. Pales.). Eusebius knew only too well that the awful atrocities inflicted on the hundreds of martyred Christians registered in the pagan mind as the utter converse of prosperity and temporal blessings. 110 He therefore spent some time in describing how the people closely involved in such evil activities duly received their just deserts - how those who falsely accused the virtuous Narcissus could not escape 'the great eye ofJustice' (VI, ix, 7- x, 1), and how two of the villainous henchmen of Maximin were themselves tortured to death (IX, xi, 3-6). But their suffering seems tame beside the agonies of the martyrs.l1 1 If the Christians fared far worse than the pagans - being mauled to death by wild animals, being roasted upon the dreaded 'iron chair' or having their naked bodies sliced and torn by metal rakes 112 - how could Eusebius disentangle the demands of retributive logic and so play the expected role of apologist? 113 One way was, of course, to make something special out of celebrating the 'happy ending'. Accordingly, the panegyrical notes already sounded at the end of the History (X, ix, 6-9) become a full-blown orchestral symphony of triumph in the Vita and Laus Constantini. Charles Cochrane rightly suspects Eusebius of having extravagant dreams - dreams that look to the age of Constantine as one of universal (and perhaps everlasting) peace and prosperity.H4 The Pax Augusta was doubtless excellent for its time, in that 'the wars of antiquity were due to polytheism' and Christ's coming into the world coincided with a 'sovereign, profound peace' within Rome's 'worldwide' empire (Laus Canst., xvi, 4). 115 But these circumstances were no more than an unsatisfactory foretaste in comparison with the vibrant new order, which Eusebius proclaimed on behalf of Constantine like a reincarnated Virgil. It is no wonder, therefore, that scholars have detected in Eusebius far less emphasis on 'traditional' eschatology and far more hope in a this-worldlyyet-divinely-planned :n:oA.trda, 116 as well as the incipient emergence of a doctrine of progress. 117 Following this line of Eusebius' thought, the fact that

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human affairs have now taken an unprecedented turn towards a state of security and happiness 118 itself helps to justify the devious and unpleasant events that occurred beforehand. A great part of the Eusebian panegyric is, of course, the celebration of victory - a victory that involves the suppression of those agencies that unjustly persecuted the Christians. 119 While it removes the causes of persecution (by, it should be noted, instituting a different and much less aggressive ethos of intolerance), the new order is also vindicating the sufferings of the martyrs. Yet Constantine's punitive measures were hardly commensurate with the scale and persistence of the atrocities earlier committed against the persecuted Christians - which meant that something was missing: the happy ending was not enough by itself, and it was only one part of the victory. Eusebius felt obliged to resort to some of the more obviously theological devices in order to mitigate the discrepancies. We see him struggling with these issues most clearly in his Life of Constantine (ii, 26), in which Constantine is portrayed as becoming convinced that the martyrs' piety throughout their sufferings will be rewarded by their going on to 'the next life happy and blessed'. Meanwhile we read also that the persecutors have not only themselves had to endure 'the miseries of war, devastation and famine ... equal to their injustices' (all of which we have already heard about thanks to the final sections of the History) but they now must face 'misfortune ... and torment of mind' complete with the 'expectation of punishment to come ... in hell' (27; cf. 53; Mart. Pales., VII, 8). 120 Such generalizations are not examples of casualness in one so interested in the temporal future as Eusebius is. His use of martyriological quotations in the History and his own comments on specific martyrdoms show him ready to affirm that there is indeed an ultimate victory - a crowning and perfection- awaiting the sufferers (e.g., VIII, x, 12; xi, 2; cf. III, xxxvi, 9; IV, xv, 33). Because the martyrs have altogether rejected idolatry, they refused to be 'utterly destroyed' in hell, which is understood as the destination of pagan persecutors (VIII, x, 10; cf. V, i, 26). Perhaps we might have hoped to find in Eusebius - whose mind-set tends to lean towards that of Origen (Hist. eccles., VI, i, 1-xix, 19) -some universalist expectation of a 'restoration of all things' (apokatastasis) in which even the persecutors might eventually find God in another order ... Yet history (and I think it must have been the lessons of history rather than innate caution in theology) seems to have constrained him otherwise. In the long term, however, because Rome was in his view the last empire referred to in the gloomy prophecies of the book of Daniel, even that powerful earthly institution would at some stage have to be replaced by God's 'final triumph' (Demonstr. Evang., xv). 121 Another way of dealing with the problem of martyrdom - and one in which Eusebius struggled to make sense of suffering in terms not just of Christian theology but also of pagan perceptions - was to portray the martyrs

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as innocents who died bravely, even magnificently. We have already seen that both Jewish and pagan thinkers had had to confront the difficulty of undeserved death, and of how or when retribution should be forthcoming for it. The slaughter of virtuous individuals, or of those who at least had no guilt attached to them, was xaxia or aae{Jew, and it was this status applied to totally unjustifiable killing that Eusebius attributed to the slaying of Christians. He was not above having recourse to traditional retributive logic as an apologist's foil, and was well aware of how Graeco-Roman -let alone Biblical - paradigms of worthy - indeed, victorious - death might be put to good use. Eusebius therefore describes in detail the savage, mindless injustices done to the Christians (especially IV, xvi, 8; xxvi, 6; V, i, 6, 9, 57; VII, ix; IX, vi, 2) - a people he described as opposed to violence, and as fighting 'peaceful wars in order to bring peace to the soul' (especially V, praef., 3; cf. especially V, iv, 7; VIII, iv, 2; xiii, 9; X, ix, 6; Vit. Canst., ii, 57) -and goes on then to present martyr deaths as victorious and, far from being hideous and horrible, majestic (especially Hist. eccles., VIII, vi, 3; xiv, 17; cf. III, xxxvi, 9; IV, viii, 5; xv-xvii). Even Christian suicide can be justified, 122 in which connectionpossibly in the light of contemporarily popular Stoicism - Eusebius narrates how some Christian women preferred to put an end to their own lives rather than be raped (VIII, xii, 3-4; xiv, 17; Vit. Canst., i, 34). He rightly perceived it as significant that the women were capable of enduring agonies of pain with an equanimity, and of standing their ground with a virtue, equal to men's (Hist. eccles., VIII, xiv, 14-15). Altogether, the deaths of the martyrs are endowed with profound meaning. The Saviour Himself gives strength to the faithful in their torment. Miracles (such as the apparently divine muzzling of wild animals in the arena) affirm the presence and intervention of God even during these tragedies. Stones and the earth itself weep at their own inadequacy to respond to such cruelties. The Devil - who is himself one of the causes of the persecution - is infuriated by the martyrs' composure. And the noble deaths may be directly compared with that of Christ himself - and can stand that comparison, although the stricken Lord alone took upon himself the heavy burden of the punishment ( ra Jr:(JOaTtf.u'uwra) for human sin.lz3 According to the History, and markedly so, all this is the real and astonishing 'witness' (f..ta(JTV(Jia). And if Maximin later supplied a false definition in his notorious rescript, well, its promulgator himself showed how resigned he was to having little effect on those who 'fear no punishment', for he had conceded in his earlier epistle to the provinces in 310 what 'so long a passage of time' had 'proved' - namely, that 'they can in no way be persuaded to give up' their 'obstinate behaviour' (IX, i, 5; cf. 4). At the end of the first book of the Vita Constantini Maximin is even depicted as

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recanting and seeking God's pardon for what he had done to the Christians (i, 59).124 Eusebius' affirmation of a moral order through history - despite the awful and protracted suffering involved - once more reveals his capacity for developing themes laid down in Biblical and pre-Christian Greek historiographies and turning them into fresh (but for all that, not unpersuasive) paradigms. Admittedly, the greatest Jewish histories before him had presented the hand of God as the primary means of chastisement in such terrible events as the Babylonian captivity (the Deuteronomist[s)) and the Jewish War (Josephus) (see Chapters 1 and 2). The dominant classical and Hellenistic Greek historians too had deplored the enslavement of entire nations by tyrannical powers, 125 although they never actually made a virtue out of the calamities consistently experienced by minority groups or small, uncouth cultures. 126 Eusebius' own context of course made it easier to render the enormities intelligible. Vindication at last presented itself with Licinius and - above all - with Constantine. Yet to justify the carnage in the meantime was a problem. But the bishop had already been provided with one lead, at least, in the form of the Jewish books of the Maccabees: 1 Maccabees recounts how the Jews gained victory (and more than military, if only temporary advances) after the persecutions of Antiochus Epiphanes, and 4 Maccabeesso influential on Eusebius' vocabulary - was distinct in pre-Christian literature for containing something that approached a theology of martyrdom. Other Biblical writers (the author of the Chronicles and Luke among them) had also commended the perseverance of heroes of the faith in the face of oppression. 127 It was Eusebius, however, who originated the first fullscale history that featured suffering - noble, praiseworthy and ultimately effective suffering - as its central motif. We have already noted, though, that Eusebius was careful not to suggest that history alone could yield justification for the martyrs. To conclude that he sidelined fundamental Christian beliefs on Judgement beyond this world in favour of an outlook centred solely on this world is entirely wrong. Unlike Augustine, however (who lived later, and so knew that the apostate Julian would follow Constantine, and whose experience of the empire was that it was so shaky it might collapse at any moment), Eusebius made much less of the extra-terrestrial resolution of historical anomalies because the events that were happening around him spoke louder than theological speculation. The crux of this issue does not impinge upon his work. In times of bloody persecution other Christians could afford to question whether there was a moral order through history, and it is an interesting sidelight to the rise of their faith to 'ideological supremacy' that such apologists as Cyprian before him set so little store by earthly happiness or the promise of improvement in living conditions in the world. 128 Eusebius was not among those who

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seriously doubted the moral order through history, because he could borrow capital from the Pax Constantiniana, indulging in a questionable optimism which later generations had to unlearn. All is not so simple, however, and Eusebius' solutions were not in every respect one-sided in favour of the Christians. In his exegesis of more recent events, we find more sober, qualifying (and one might add episcopal) observations at the beginning of Book VIII- to the effect that the Church's opponents cannot take all the blame for the trials of history. The principles of retribution are evidently not interpreted either correctly or convincingly if the Church's own weaknesses are left ignored. Eusebius nevertheless refused to include the unedifying details of ecclesiastical logomachy (VIII, ii, 3; cf. 7); 129 yet it is the pride, the sloth, the hypocrisy and the factionalism within the fold during the hiatus before Diocletian's edicts that the bishop identifies as a cause of persecution (i, 7-8; cf. 6; ii, 4-51).13° There are no names to go by, yet Church rulers ( aQxovre~) are the chief targets of his criticisms, for their ambitions are incipiently tyrannical and the Psalmist's contempt of princes can be quoted as much against them as against the pre-Constantinian tyrants (i, 8; 131 ii, 2; cf. IX, xi, 8). Thus persecution is the payment for Christian divisiveness. In the same breath, however, Eusebius writes of 7J ()e{a 'XQlat~ against the Church, not as an ordering T:LfLWQ{a but as a judgement falling fLET:Q{W~ according to the divine f.ma-xo.n:1] (i, 7; cf. ii, 2). 132 This notion of the measured patience of God (which has an obvious affinity with the theologies of divine patience important for Cyprian, Lactantius and [later] Orosius) 133 is anticipated by Eusebius' comments on the later years of Aurelian. Divine Justice visited this emperor before he had the chance to organize a persecution. 'Thus', writes the historian, 'the rulers of this world never find it easy to proceed against the churches of Christ unless our champion's hand were to permit this, at the time he approved, as a divine and heavenly judgement to chasten and turn us' ( ()e{~ -xa{ oiJQavlcp UQ{aet .n:m&la~ ~ve-xa -xai f.n:tatQocpfi~; VII, xxx, 21). Here there is a different element in the explanation of events: the heavenly succour comes only after the correcting that God deems necessary for His people, a sufficient .n:mbela, it appears, to make the Church worthy of the blessed peace of Constantine (IX, viii, 15; IX, iv, 33-4). 134 Broadly speaking, then, Eusebius saw the Church as being refined rather than punished by persecution, although he was well aware that certain weaknesses within Christianity, especially evident before Diocletian, could affect the sternness of divine measures (cf. X, iv, 57-9). It is worth remembering here his apparent acceptance of a view maintained by his predecessor Hegesippus, namely that corruption and error first took root in the Church after the last of those who heard 'the divine Wisdom with their own ears had passed away' (III, xxxii, 8; cf. 6-7; IV, xxii, 4-6; cf. also V,

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xxviii, 2-4). The defilement, of course, comes with heresy - a persistent problem for the Church during its first three centuries, a period which Eusebius was the first to document as a whole - from Simon Magus to Arius. 135 In fact, it is in connection with heresy that Eusebius first introduces the Devil - who comes to receive considerable importance in his work as an agency influencing events (and thus as a means of explaining them). '0 1lOV'17{,JCJ!; bal~-twv, as he is called, is certainly characterized as a motivator of persecution (IV, vii, 1-2; V, xxi, 2; VI, xxxix, 4; X, viii, 2; Vit. Const., i, 49, 57, etc.). Yet he is more decidedly the one who undermines the Christian 'nation' as it is - causing error, working against the martyrs 136 - and only with this consideration can we concur with Momigliano's statement that Eusebius' history is 'a history of the struggle against the devil' . 137 If the panegyric in the newly dedicated church of Tyre is any indication, Eusebius' greatest fear of the Evil One was that he would seduce the Church and thus lead the 'Deity to depart from her' as unfaithful (Hist. eccles., IX, iv, 57). Thus matters were not so clear-cut that Eusebius could indulge in an unbalanced and uncritical polemic. He was only too well aware, moreover, that large-scale calamities -those which Maximin's rescript held to be forestalled by pious attention to the gods - overtook Christians along with the unbelievers. He may have reckoned the floods, conflagrations, famines, plagues and wars of the distant past as the chastisements (uoA,aat"IJ(!WL) of God against peoples who rejected God's ways (I, ii, 20; Onomast.) 138 -but there was clearly no exemption for Christians in the sufferings of Alexandria's great epidemic in 258-259. 139 Using Dionysius the Great as a source, however, Eusebius could contrast (as he does in other places) Christian care with pagan brutality. The Christians tended the sick: ... in Christ, and so most gladly departed this life along with them; being infected with the disease from others, drawing upon themselves the sickness from their neighbours, and willingly taking over their pains;

while the conduct of the heathen was the exact opposite. Even those who were in the first stages of the disease were thrust away, and fled ... They would cast them out in the roads half dead, and treat the unburied corpses as vile refuse, in their attempts to avoid the ... contagion. (Hist. eccles., VII, xxii, 7, 10; cf. xxi, 8-9; IX, ix, 13-15)

The eventual outcome of events in the History, therefore, is not determined merely by power struggles whether imperial or cosmic, nor only by the degree to which the Church can avoid error and contention, but also by the superior qualities of the Church's new social outlook. Eusebius' insistence is

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that no one person can undermine the whole collective undertaking (cf. VII, xxxii, 23-5), upheld as it is by wya).mpvxta (X, iv, 26). 140 As a whole, however, we may conclude that the Ecclesiastical History presents itself as a record of Providence, and that although Eusebius inherited the concept of a divine JrQ6vow from both Hellenistic and later Jewish predecessors, yet his understanding and usage of it has a recognizable freshness. Providence is much more than an overarching factor which can be appealed to in order to endow events with philosophical significance; it is the efficacy of a personal God who is intimately concerned for the whole universe, and especially for His own people. Fortune, Necessity and Fate are quite displaced, and thus Providence does not merely underlie the foreordained principles which give history its typical event-complexes, its patterns and situations. It is also the manifestation of a Will, of the 'God who acts' with freedom (as the Biblical perspective had it). 141 Under God's Providence one can find what is surprising and unwelcome - the agonies of the martyrs, for example - yet also the emergence of a quite new social order, of 'a nation never even heard of since time began, which now no longer lies hidden in some obscure corner of the earth, but extends wherever the sun does shine' (Hist. eccles., X, iv, 19). The hyperbole is commensurate, after all, with both the marvel of church growth and an enormous sense of relief. Relief? Yes, perhaps a more suitable word than 'triumph', which applies better to Lactantius' literary climax as we have detailed it thus far. We must return to Lactantius, for it will have already seemed strange that we have reversed the proper chronological order of these two writers' major historical works by setting aside Lactantius' account of the persecutions and their recent cessation. The rationale for this procedure, however, lies in the likelihood, newly established, that Eusebius completed the first draft of his history by as early as c. 290-295. Various scholars had previously inferred that Eusebius had finished one edition of the Ecclesiastical History before the Licinian persecutions (c. 318-3 24), and that this is why he allowed an accolade to both Constantine and Licinius at the end of Book IX (completed c. 317), but wrote of Licinius in his last version (of c. 324-325) as a tyrant meeting a condign downfall. 142 Revised estimates by Robert Grant and Timothy Barnes, though, have Eusebius finish his first narrative at Book VII in the 290s, with some stories about the Martyrs of Palestine later added to make up a second edition (c. 313-314). This addendum, the shorter version of the Martyrs, was then taken out of the narrative and turned into a separate (longer) work, this allowing Eusebius to produce a third edition of his Ecclesiastical History (c. 315) - favourable to Licinius - and later a fourth (c. 325) - unfavourable to him. 143 This means, then, that whereas Eusebius' last edition was completed about six years after Lactantius circulated his De mortibus persecutorum (i.e., c. 318), the first edition probably preceded De mortibus by over two decades.

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What are the implications of this for Eusebius' historical vision, and what bearing does this reappraisal have on his application of retributive principles? Basically this: his first edition apparently did not end on any optimistic note; and his second, completed a year before Lactantius' De mortibus, concluded with a doxology of sheer thankfulness (X, i, 1) rather than panegyric (cf. X, iv). If the first edition ended at VII, xxii, 32, however, it would be hard to fathom the general point of his work, except perhaps as an attempt to improve and continue Hegesippus' Memoirs as a useful account of episcopal successions, doctrinal disputes and martyrdoms (cf. xxxii, 29-32; VIII, praef). But our analysis has revealed that the Eusebian master-work has been skilfully threaded together by a concern to interpret the judgements of God, and it would seem likely that beneath the opening sections of Book VIII lay the original conclusions to the first edition. While the Church grew prosperous in recent times (i.e., by the 290s), this first conclusion maintained (VIII, i, 1, 5-6; note also xiii, 9), and God intervened protectively to forestall evil or persecution against His people (6b; and cf. VII, xxx, 21), an unfortunate 'pride, sloth, envy and railing among clerics and laymen alike' had infected the Church in easier times (under the Carii and in the earlier years of Diocletian's administration). 144 Behind the editorially altered reflections of VIII, i, 7- ii, 2, with its extended quotations from Psalm 89 on God's just purification of Israel in His anger, a striking warning can be discovered against complacency and its consequences for the churches, who will have to contend with the divine krisis for their sins (i, 7b; cf. ii, 2; VII, xxx, 21b). The trauma of the Great Persecution was therefore explained by these very internal weaknesses, even if Eusebius went on to show how things eventually turned out well (in both his second and third editions). Thus, on this reading, the greater part of Eusebius' history was not originally motivated by a theological triumphalism at all, but by the sobering prospect that the very same just Judge who could punish the persecutors and the wicked could also chastise his own. The road to 'political monotheism' is slower in Eusebius than in Lactantius' case, and less decisive in terms of retributive pointedness against the old regime. 145 For instance, De mortibus provides details for the deaths of every single persecuting emperor. Both Nero and Domitian 'could not avoid retribution' (poena!ultio), the one being deprived of a burial place and the other not only being killed at home, but receiving the memoria damnata (ii-iii). Decius' body was left exposed to the beasts after losing to the Carpians; Valerian became sacrificial meat in a Persian temple, and Aurelian was murdered by friends at Caenofrurium, each receiving what was 'fitting [dignum] for an enemy of God' (v; cf. iv; vi). Diocletian, though increasing in madness and criminality throughout his long reign, did not reap what he merited as long as he did not assail the Christians (ix; cf. vi-viii). Once he begins persecuting (from 303, late in his reign), his good luck leaves him (x;

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xvii), and because he gives in to his appointed fellow-Caesars- referred to, according to Constantinian ideology, as 'the tyrants' (vi ff.) 146 - Diocletian's insanity increases (xvii-xviii), and he eventually dies in utter anguish over his colleagues' failures, taking neither food nor rest (xlii). In contrast, Eusebius relates nothing of the deaths of Nero, Domitian or Aurelian, even though documenting their malignities. When noting Valerian's enslavement by 'the barbarians' in the History, moreover, he does not even hint at it as God's requital (VII, xiii); and we learn that Decius' maliciousness (xaxot:(.JOlr{a) was met by his 'sudden disappearance, root and branch, with his family' only because Eusebius quotes in extenso from Dionysius the Great of Alexandria (VII, xxiii, 1; cf. xxii, 12). Unlike Lactantius, Eusebius mentions no agony at Diocletian's end, but only the effects of a prolonged and painful infirmity of body (VIII, finis, Frg. 3), which were not clearly linked to his mental derangements (xiii, 11) or actual death. 147 If Eusebius' first volume ended at the seventh book, then, his retributive discourse concerning imperial personages was remarkably subdued. Only towards the end of that book is there talk of 1f 8e{a {J{xrt pinioning Aurelian before he could persecute - by the faint implication, because he died- this coming hard on the heels of the historian's favourable view of the emperor whose 'extremely just decision' drove the heretic Paul of Samosata from the Church with 'the utmost indignity' ( Tfjf eaxcirrtf alaxvvrtf) (Hist. eccles., VII, xxx, 19-21) - in this presumably doing God's will. In the first edition there may have been recognition of the progress of God's people, with occasional recognition of improved conditions allowed under the emperors (see especially VII, xxii, 1-4), but Eusebius' main thrust was an old one familiar to us from earlier Fathers: a Providence-trusting perseverance against threats from without and distortions from within. To this orientation he could add a 'respect for the facts' and an avoidance of 'myth-making polemic' that he found so lacking in the pagan Philostratus' attempt to portray Apollonius of Tyana as a foil to Christ. 148 Only with the Great Persecution of 303-312, indeed with his own closeness to the martyrdoms in Palestine, does the nature of imperial deaths become important for him; and with the passing of tyrants, first the three main ones, and then Licinius, he finishes the later editions of his work by celebrating in excess rather than soberly warning. Even when Eusebius' treatment of the deaths of Galerius, Maxentius, Maximin Daia and Maximian is scrutinized beside those of Lactantius, however, the former's approach is comparatively less extensive, certainly in the History. Their stories generally match, but Lactantius' retributive sting always has the edge. 149 Like the Chronicler following upon the subtler Deuteronomist, Lactantius invested much more than Eusebius in the necessary outcome of 'similar sufferings to the ones culprits have inflicted' (i,jinis), and his imputation of imperial impietas was more acerbic. 150 But Lactantius,

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it should be remembered, died c. 320, before Licinius' persecution was over, and did not document it. Once this additional and not insignificant trial for the churches had been halted, 151 Eusebius was still at work, and he had more than a panegyrical tone to add to his History (in the last edition, especially at X, iv, 2-72; cf. also Laus Canst.): he could offer the great sequel of his celebratory Vita Constantini. If Lactantius departed with Crispus to the West in 318, moreover, leaving behind a close personal involvement in Constantine's court, 152 Eusebius was increasingly propelled thereafter towards the hub of the new Rome, Constantinople, as a relative outsider looking to enhance the Church's 'political' opportunities. The geographical cleavage between these two great apologists for Constantine and the Christian cause presages a subsequent imperial imbalance, in which old Rome was always in danger of losing the counterpart to its genius - the emperor - to another place, was characteristically prone to usurpers, and was consequently made more vulnerable to external threat. 153 The Greeks looked like regaining an edge over the Latins. If Western pagan political culture and historical reflection faced losing a certain centre of gravity, though, plenty of Latin laudatory voices tried to make a differencemost of Constantine's extant panegyricists hailing from GauU 54 Of Latin Christian reflection on the past arising out of the Constantinian turning-point, though, the most common point made in terms of retributive justice was that God rejected Rome's heedless past. In an earlier piece (330), the Gallic poet Ausonius, whose Christian faith is admittedly 'not obtruded' in his verse, 155 put together 24 quatrains on the Caesars, assessing their lives and deaths from Julius to Antoninus Elagabalus in a vein reminiscent of Lactantius. Most emperors received a bad press, some being singled out as tyrants, and some (for example, Gaius, Domitian, Commodus, Bassianus Antoninus and Macrinus) meriting just poenae (De Caesar.; monost., iv; tetrast., xii; xviii; xxii-xxiii; cf. xiii; xx). The aristocratic Roman woman Proba may well have composed the first draft of her remarkable Cento in celebratory response to the defeat of Maxentius at the Milvian Bridge, 156 in which case her work is an example of poetic macrohistory intriguingly anticipating John Milton's renowned epic. Paradise is lost through Adam and Eve, and the past, despite the spiritual greats of the Bible, basically sees 'fury and wrath dethroning reason' (Cent., 170, 264-5, 300ff.). Treachery, as Mary was the first to suspect, also befell the Christ (340-448), but 'when the cycle of time is completed', peace will come, and blind humans - all too tempted by the serpent - 'shall pay the penalty for their ancient wrongs' (474-80). 157 Proba's work links with the theological theme of Christus Victor, of Christ's spiritual victory over the Devil, which under Constantine's reign chimed with the arrival of a Christian peace- especially as expressed by Lactantius. 158 A less subdued voice than Proba's, in contrast, one even shriller than

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Lactantius', heard by the end of this reign, was that of the new convert Firmicus Maternus (fl. 330s). In his fulminations against the errors of the pagan religion, he recast Christianity as more Roman and pagans as deserving the kind of punishments Postumius meted out to the worshippers of Dionysos (De error. profan. relig., vi, 9; cf. Livy, Ab urb. cond., XXXIX, 9ff.) or Old Testament rulers gave to idolaters (De error., xxxx). 159 Here the feeling of relief accompanies recriminatory attitudes. In the light of the Great Persecution, forgiveness is no more appropriate than forgetfulness, and for the first time a (self-described) Christian litterateur160 was proposing how a historicized retributive logic could be applied as a political policy. In his newly established court in the East, however, Constantine was listening to the mixed tones of both pagan and Christian panegyricists, and while his policies abetted the orthodox Christian cause to the detriment of other parties, their punitive thrust was concentrated rather specifically against 'the tyrants' and not against pagans in general (still the majority of his subjects). 161 The greatest care had to be taken against destabilizing the empire. All the resounding praise he heard for having achieved internal political cohesion, external expansion and a significantly different religious settlement belied the problem that Constantine himself could be seen as a usurper, pre-empting Diocletian's favoured appointee Severus. 162 The most significant document in legitimizing the Constantinian succession and dynasty was that last and apparently unfinished work of the Christian Eusebius, the Vita Constantini. Virtually sanctifying but significantly never divinizing him, Eusebius constructed out of his emperor hero's life the first great exemplar of the worthy 'Christian prince'. An earlier form of the Vita may well have been intended for Constantine's presence at the opening of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in 335, where Eusebius was seeking to enhance his own and episcopal Christian influences at court, and ~so perhaps to secure support for his compromise position in the Arian controversy. 163 Whatever the case, the adulatory bios accentuates further the divine requitals against the tyrants, asserts by comparison the divine sanctioning of Constantine's inheritance and maintenance of power, and transforms his restitutive, punitive and arbitrating measures on behalf of the true Church into a righteous ministry for God. The new ordering of the materials in Book I contrasts the 'fearful ends of the tyrants' (i, 3) with the blessings granted both to Constantine and to his father. The granting of visions - of the Cross and of Christ himself - while Constantine was resolving to deliver Rome from Maxentius (26, 28-30) only make Maxentius look all the more like an ungodly Pharaoh (38) confronted by a 'new Moses' (12, 20, 38; cf. ii, 11; and n. 93). The defeat and death of Maxentius now become archetypal, and the ignominious demises of Maximin, Galerius and Maximi[a]n Daia are now placed after them (47, 57-9; to conclude the first book). Licinius is already presented as conspiring to persecute (i, 49-56)

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before these last two die, while the second book deals first with the open conflict between him and Constantine, apparently conflating their two separate wars into the one to accentuate the latter's victory and the former's fitting TLJl-WQia - as one executed with his counsellors for being an impious tyrant (ii, 1-18; iii, 1). This was the first among many rulings Eusebius then enumerates which make up the 'blessings' of Constantine's united empire (ii, 19, 21, 23 ff.) which healed the unprecedented splitting of the principate ( dQX1]) begun by Diocletian (Hist. eccles., VIII, xiii, 11 ). 164 Constantine succeeds, in fact, because he has already contemplated the fates of imperial idolaters and turned instead to 'the God of the Universe' ( 6 ()eo~ rwv l>Awv) (i, 27), a lesson he later passes on to the Persian Sapor II, in the forging of a treaty (iv, 11-12; and see Chapter 4 below). In contrast to the tyrants, his father Constantius dies peacefully in a way 'vouchsafed by God' (i, 17, 21); 165 his mother Helena, the blemishes of her earlier past left unmentioned, emerges as the pious foundress of churches in the Holy Land and a great benefactress to the oppressed (Vit. Canst., iii, 41-5), whose soul was changed at death into an angelic essence (46). 166 Constantine's acts to dispatch his wife Fausta and son Crispus are left unrecorded, 167 and Eusebius extols his three (remaining) sons, whom he has seen with his very own eyes, as 'reflections of [their father's] brightness' (i, 1 [praefl; cf. iv, 40, 49, 70-2). 168 As for Constantine's course on earth, how well he compared with the greatest of Persian rulers, Cyrus, who died 'ingloriously at the hands of a woman', and Alexander, who was carried off by the effects of revelry in his late youth (i, 7; cf. Diodorus Siculus, Bibliot., III, xi; Arrian, Anab., vii). 169 Since the barbarians had treated Christians better than the Romans, moreover, Constantine had by implication removed the latter's shame from the wider world (Vit., Canst., ii, 53). When his 'thrice blessed soul' was laid in the monument of the apostles, it still continued to have its influence on imperial affairs (iv, 71), and his life stood as a worthier example than any known 'Greek or barbarian' ruler (75). 170 Constantine's career sets the seal on Eusebius' revised restructuring of his retributive outlook, allowing for his propagandist matching of Old Testament lawgiving by Moses with the wise legislation appropriate to one holding imperial dynasteia, or the imperium, 'that most significant word in the history of Roman· statecraft' . 171 And there is a transcending of these two powerful legal concepts through the Church's grand vision of a 'wellordered and united family of humanity' now made possible because Christ thwarted the 'Satanic fraud' and the old 'implacable hatred of nation against nation' had been removed through God's effect on Rome (Laus Canst., xvi, 3-4, 7). In the inaugural celebrations of Constantine's new imperial dispensation, according to Eusebius, 'the former afflictions [of the Christians] were forgotten, and all past impieties [of the pagans] forgiven' (xaxwv naA.mwv

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xai t5vaae{3ela~ dn:aa17~ A:fJ81J) (i, 19, finis). The distinctively post-war, non-recriminatory Christian politics of peace, important through subsequent centuries of turmoil, has rarely been so succinctly stated. The physical conflict was over: although Eusebius would go on to say that Constantine ordered the destruction of many temples and deprived heretics of their meeting-places (esp. iii, 54-8, 64-5), there was no question of a 'civil war' against the pagans or of disturbing the pax by reverse persecution (e.g., ii, 56). And although this concessive attitude may have had for Eusebius some kind of precedent in the Pax Augusta, or that special context in which Christ also gave his reconciliatory peace (Luke 4:18-19; cf. 2:14; 10:5-6; 24:36; Acts 10:36; John 14:27; cf. Praep. Evang., ix; Demonstr. Evang., x; cf. Melito quoted in Hist. eccles., IV, xxvii, 8), Constantine's reign is upheld as decisively transformative when compared to the past and adopted for the future ( Vit. Canst., iv, 75). In the Vita Constantini, however, Eusebius is more decisively than elsewhere the Christian triumphalist. There can be no forgiving or forgetting of the tyrants and the dreadful consequences of persecution. The memory of martyrdom was hardly to be repressed, because obviously the martyrs' cults now need fostering (especially to provide a rationale for the imperial support of rebuilding old churches or erecting new ones) (cf. ii, 35-6, 45-55; iii, 1, 15-43, 48-50; iv, 32). 172 For both Lactantius and Eusebius one senses such architectural developments being likened to the rebuilding of the Jerusalem Temple (in Ezra-Nehemiah). 173 And Eusebius had put such trust in an earthly dynasty as a new divinely ordained embodiment of Providence that he openly sanctioned physical punitive power (something Lactantius, with his stress on 'divine victory', never clearly espoused). In Eusebius' Vita, Constantine may have encouraged and brought peace with external powers (iv, 7-8), any record of his Iranian campaign being conveniently dropped, 174 but nonetheless 'God rewarded [a11etf3611evo~] him' (for his oversight of the churches) by militarily 'subduing all barbarous nations under his feet' (i, 46; cf. iv, S-6). As for the emperor's measures to secure internal security, in Eusebian eyes he 'wisely chastises [the wicked] in the fashion of God' ( awlj}(!ovlCwv rfl n:(!en:O'I1an rov (Jeov xoA.aaet) (iii, 1) .175 Certainly, Eusebius sought to gloss over conflicts within the Church, more particularly the Arian controversy - which he claims to have been settled more by Constantine himself than by the episcopal participants at Nicaea in 325 (iii, 6-13, 17, 20, 23; cf. ii, 61-73; iii, 4)- but also the debate over the correct date of Easter (iii, 14; cf. 5, 18-19). 176 Orthodox or Homoousian177 critics were later to blame Eusebius for not showing that the Nicene vote was cast against Arius or that 'just retribution' befell his 'companions in impiety' 178 (cf. especially Chapters 4 and 5 below). In the Ecclesiastical History, Eusebius' treatment of Lucian of Antioch (Arius' alleged

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forerunner) as a martyr (IX, vi, 3) was likewise tendentious. 179 He also significantly omits mention of the first exile of the vehemently anti-Arian Athanasius, who was ordered by Constantine to leave his see at Alexandria, after the decisions of the Council at Tyre in 335 (over which Eusebius presided) and a fiery meeting at Constantinople (at which Athanasius and Eusebius put their differing cases to the emperor concerning Athanasius' feud with the Melitian schismatics). 180 If these omissions may be seen as an attempt to soften partisan spirits in a serious conflict, and to use the higherthan-episcopal power of Constantine to forestall it, they nonetheless reflect Eusebius' own confident claims to solve current theological problems as one of the oldest, and certainly the most published bishop of his day (cf. iii, 11). Indeed Eusebius had taken the first initiative, in the presence of the emperor at Nicaea, to present a formulation of the Christian creed he believed acceptable to all parties (apud Athanasius, Epist. Euseb., i-iv; cf. Vit. Const., iii, 12). 181 By 338, however, Eusebius' special form of semi-Arianism 182 was bringing him trouble. Constantine was laid to rest in May 337, passing away in the presence of his Arian chaplain Eusebius of Nicomedia, who baptized him and received his will. Athanasius was reinstated by Constantine II in mid337 (an early significant act by an emperor who was killed in battle at Aquileia after only three years in office). Eusebius had not at first taken kindly to Athanasius as a young and combative ecclesiastical upstart, who had become Patriarch of Alexandria by 328 and had refused to attend a synod he was chairing at Caesarea in 334. Even being pressed to go to Caesarea made Athanasius associate Eusebius with the Arian cause (Apol. contr. Arian., iv, 77; cf. Theodoret, Hist. eccles., i, 28), and while it was not until 340, after Eusebius' death, that he reminded readers how Eusebius was an early 'accomplice' of Arius (Ad Afr., 6; cf. De synod., ii, 17), Athanasius had no compunction in quoting reports that Eusebius had once cowardly sacrificed to idols in prison rather than face martyrdom during the Great Persecution (Apol. contr. Arian., i, 8; cf. Epiphanius, Adv. Haer., lxviii, 7). Eusebius' imperial champion, Constantine, had passed away without solving the unsettling theological wrangle of the day, yet died bending towards the party that the strong-willed Homoousians portrayed as betraying the Gospel. The triumphalist Vita Constantini was left unfinished, and while Eusebius' problem with the organization of the bits and pieces of the work may have been one factor deterring him from publishing it before his death, another probably more important one was his own concessiveness towards the Arian grouping, even the possibility that at the approach of death he was trying to remodel the Vita as a 'political pamphlet' to get at 'his enemy Athanasius' .183 If this last speculation goes too far - interesting though it is in terms of retributive issues! - there was sufficient material in the work to make Eusebius look tainted with compromise in the Homoousian party's eyes. He

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even implied that it was Athanasius' aggressive predecessor Alexander who unnecessarily sparked the whole Arian controversy (Vit. Const., ii, 69). Neither side was fighting a just cause, and Eusebius wrote only of an acrimony that suited the Devil, the 'evil spirit who looked with an envious eye on the prosperity of the Church' (73). When Eusebius died the work was not hurriedly published posthumously, either by his immediate successor and biographer the tempestuous Arian Acacius 184 or afterwards by Gelasius (bishop 367-395), who probably edited the work as Eusebius' continuator but kept the results secret. 185 Thus the effects of the Vita on Christian historiographical polemics were to come over a generation later. Death has a habit of shattering all triumphalisms, and it was only towards the end of the century, when the empire was reunited once more, that the Eusebian vision in the Vita could regain its potency.

Notes 1. See A. F. Segal, Two Powers in Heaven: Early Rabbinic Reports about Christianity and Gnosticism (SJLA, 25), Leiden, 1977. The Jewish anathema proclaimed

2. 3.

4.

5.

6.

against the Nazarenes probably originated in the second, rather than the first, century: thus R. Kimelman, 'Birkat ha-Minim and the Lack of Evidence for an Anti-Christian Prayer in Late Antiquity', in E. P. Sanders, A. M. Baumgarten and A. Mendelson (eds), Jewish and Christian Self-Definition, vol. 2, pp. 226-44; and L. H. Schiffman, Who Was a Jew? Rabbinic and Halakhic Perspectives on the Jewish-Christian Schism, Hoboken, 1985, especially p. 60, against R. T. Herford, Christianity in Talmud and Midrash, London, 1903, pp. 127-35. For an introduction: see W. H. C. Frend, The Rise of Christianity, Philadelphia, 1985 edn, Pt. 2. Cf., for example, H. E. W. Turner, The Pattern of Christian Truth, London, 1954, chs 3-4. On the Church as a 'third nation' over and above Jews and Gentiles: M. Green, Evangelism in the Early Church, Guilford, 1995 edn. See Aristides Athenarum, Apol.; cf. Galerius' official charge to this effect in 311, apud Lactantius, Mort. pers., xxxiv [2, 5]. See J. Macdonald (ed. and trans.), The Samaritan Chronicle No. II (BZAW, 107), Berlin, 1969, pp. 123ff.; J. Bowman (ed. and trans.), Samaritan Documents Relating to Their History, Religion and Life (Pittsburgh Original Texts and Translation Ser., 2), Pittsburgh, 1977, pp. 88-103, 117. On Samaritans vis-a-vis Jewish-Roman conflict: M. Mor, 'The Samaritans and the Bar Kochbah Revolt', in A. D. Crown (ed.), The Samaritans, Tiibingen, 1989, pp. 19ff. M. Stone, Scriptures, Sects and Visions, London and New York, 1980, ch. 6; and see L. Finkelstein, Akiba: Scholar, Saint and Martyr, Philadelphia, 1993 edn, especially ch. 9 on Yer. Ta'anit, iv, 68d and disappointments over Bar Kochba in 130-132 CE. See J. Neusner, 'The Religious Uses of History: Judaism in First-Century AD Palestine and Third-Century Babylonia', HTh, 5 (1966): 171; cf. also A. Agus,

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7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

15.

16. 17.

18.

19. 20. 21.

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The Binding of Isaac and the Messiah, Albany, NY, 1988. For renewed Jewish historiographical activity in medieval times: S. Schwartzfuchs, 'Chroniques hebra'iques du XI• siecle', Evid, 6 (1954): 33. Dibre ha-yamim shel Mosheh, Paris, 1629, pp. 43-5; cf. also 0. S. Rankin, Jewish Religious Polemic of Early and Later Centuries, Edinburgh, 1956, p. 18. For the pivot see Pirqe Aboth, v, 20; cf. 22, 26, etc.; for the cataclysm: Pirqe Aboth, v, 25; cf. M. Hadas-Lebel, Jerusalem contre Rome, Paris, 1990, pp. 358-9; cf. alsop. 44 (the parallel with Edom). Thus, for example, I, xvi, 1; xvii, 2, 11 (Commodus); II, viii, 9; III, iv, 7 (Niger); VI, ix, 5-8 (Alexander Severus). Cf. esp. B. Goldmann, Einheitlichkeit und Eigenstandigkeit der Historia Romana des Appians (BzA, 6), Hildesheim, 1988, chs 3, 4-6. This being a speech put into Cicero's mouth, epitomizing Dio's historiographical outlook. On the millennium at the time: see Asinus Quadratus, Chiliat.; cf. E. Schwartz, 'Asinus, 31', in RE, vol. 2, cols 1603-4. See also F. Millar, A Study of Cassius Dio, Oxford, 1964, pp. 83-101; J, W. Rich, 'Dio on Augustus', in A. Cameron (ed.), History as Text: The Writing of Ancient History, London, 1989, esp. pp. 107-8. Thus Dio, Hist. Rom., XXXVII, !vii, 3; cf. xxii, 1-3; Appian, Hist. Rom., II, 99, 132; yet cf. 154. De Vita Caesarum and Vitae Caesarum are alternative titles: cf. T. Mommsen, Gesammelte Schriften, Berlin, 1905, vol. 7, p. 301. For questions of authorship identification: see esp. P. White, 'The Authorship of the Historia Augusta', JRS, 57 (1967): 115ff.; R. J. B. Syme, Ammianus and the Historia Augusta, Oxford, 1968, pp. 178ff. Cf., e.g., Spartianus, Hadr., xv, 8-10; xxiv, 9-xxv, 7; xxvii, 2; Ael., vii, 3; Did. Jul., viii, 6-ix, 2; Capitolinus, Ver., vi, 7; viii, 1-7; x, 9; Pertin., xiv, 6-7; Gallicanus, Avid. Cass., xiii, 8-9; Lampridius, Commod., xvi-xx; yet cf. Capitolinus, Anton. Pius, xiii, 3-4; Marc. Anton. [Aurel.], esp. xix, 10-xxiv, 2. Capitolinus, Opell. Macr., xv, 2 (first quotation); cf. xiii, 3-4; Lampridius, Ant. Elag. [= Heliog.], xvi, 5 (second); cf. vi, 7; xvii, 1-4; xxxii, 1-xxxiii, 7. Spartianus, Sev., xvii, 5-xix, 1 (who shows some signs of following Aurelius Victor, De Caesarib., xx, and who makes more allowances than Herodian); Pollio, Div. Claud., xi, 8 -xii, 3; Vopiscus, Div. Aurel., xxxvii, 7; cf. xxi, Iff.; xxxvi, 6-xxxvii, 1; xli, 1-2. Cf. C. H. Talbert, 'Biographies as Instruments of Religious Propaganda', in H. Temporini and W. Haase (eds), Aufstieg und Niedergang der romischen Welt, Berlin, 1978, vol. 16/2, pp. 1619ff. (missing this point). Earlier, e.g., cf. Capitolinus, Marc. Anton., xix, 10 (pietas and sanctitas); Lampridius, Commod. Ant., xiii, 4 (impudentia); and later, Pollio, Tyr. Trig. ('The Thirty Usurpers'), ii-xxxiii. The archetypal usurper and tyrant for the Romans was of course the ancient figure of Tarquinius Superb us. Cf. Gallicanus, Avid. Cass., xiv, 6 (phrase). Cf. also G. Cochrane, Christianity and Classical Culture, New York, 1957 edn, pp. 136-57. See Trompf, Recurrence, pp. 198-200. See Cochrane, op. cit., p. 174 (cf. p. 160 on Virgil, Aeneid, vii, 334); F. Paschoud, 'Roma Aeterna' (BHR, 7), Rome, 1967.

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22. Capitolinus, Max. Duo, xxvi, 1-2; cf. Ver., viii, 1; Lampridius, Sev. Alex., lxvi, 2. 23. Cf. H. Fuchs, Der geistige Widerstand gegen Rom in der antiken Welt, Berlin, 1964. Yet cf. A. Momigliano, 'The Disadvantages of Monotheism for a Universal State', in his On Pagans, Jews and Christians, Middletown, 1987, ch. 9. 24. For the conceptual background to this notion, as in Jub 23:8-15; 2 Esdr 5:50-55; 2 Bar 85:10; Heb 8:13b: cf. D. Brooks, 'The Idea of the Decay of the World in the Old Testament, the Apocrypha and the Pseudepigrapha', in J.D. North and J. J. Roche (eds), The Light of Nature (IAHI, 110), Dordrecht, 1985, pp. 394-404. Note also Horace, Od., III, vi, 45. On the Decian persecution: see Frend, Martyrdom and Persecution in the Early Church, Oxford, 1965, ch. 13. 25. Meaning both the Roman Empire: as in Cicero, Orat. de leg. agra., ii, 13 [33]; and the wider world: as in Pliny, Hist. nat., XXXVI, xxxvi, 13 [676]. 26. Commendata semina tellus recusat accipere (in i, 2). There is a possible allusion in this last phrase to the rescript of Maximin Daia against the Christians in 312 (cf. Eusebius, Hist. eccles., IX, vii, 8, and see references, p. 123); yet cf. also 2 Cor 9:1-15. 27. Cf. also Melito of Sardis (fl. mid-second century), apud Eusebius, Hist. eccles., IV, xxvi, 8. On Arnobius' 'general theodicy', see below, Chapter 7, note 1. 28. See also M. S. Burrows, 'Christianity in the Roman Forum: Tertullian and the Apologetic Use of History', in J. Neusner (ed.), The Christian and Judaic Invention of History (AARSR, 55), Atlanta, 1990, pp. 51ff. 29. Cf. Livy, Ab urb. cond., I, 31; Pliny, Nat. hist., II, xxxviii (stones); Seneca, Natural. quaest., VI, i, 1-2 (Pompeian earthquake); cf. Tertullian, Apol., xi (on earlier Greek cases). The Greek city of Amyclae was allegedly overrun with snakes. 30. Cf. Anon., Mart. Pion., xiii ('Who is this criminal who has filled the entire world with his disciples?'). 31. For an anthropological background: see Trompf, 'Gang Leaders and Conversion in Contemporary Papua New Guinea', in L. Olson (ed.), Religious Change, Conversion and Culture (SSSC, 12), Sydney, 1996, ch. 11. 32. Marcion, apud Tertullian, Adv. Marc., i, 14, is discussed by Muelenberg, 'Marcion's Jealous God', in D. F. Winslow (ed.), Disciplina Nostra (Robert F. Evans Festschrift: PaM, 6), Cambridge, MA, 1979, ch. 3; yet cf. Act. Joh., 60. On Mani: see G. Quispel, 'Mani', in G. W. Trompf, M. Honari and H. Abramien (eds), Mehregan in Sydney: Proceedings of the Seminar in Persian Studies, Sydney, 1994 (SSR, 1), Sydney, 1998, ch. 8; yet cf. L. J. R. Ort, Mani: A Religio-Historical Description of His Personality, Leiden, 1967, pp. 195ff. 33. W. A. Baehrens edn, GCS, 29, Leipzig, 1920, 11. 386ff. The text of Origen's In Luc. hom. does not take us as far as ch. 22. See G. E. Caspery, Politics and Exegesis: Origen and the Two Swords, Berkeley, 1979, pp. 40ff. 34. Dialog., 8lle-f; cf. Trompf, 'The Significance of the Adamantius Dialogue', in R. A. Pretty (trans. and comm.), Adamantius: Dialogue on the True Faith in God (Gnos, 1), Louvain, 1997, pp. xix-xx. 35. R. C. Gregg, Consolation Philosophy: Greek and Christian Paideia in Basil and the Two Gregories (PaM, 3), Philadelphia, 1975, esp. pp. 35, 103; cf. Ignatius, Epist. ad Rom., iv, vii, etc. Seen most clearly above with Cyprian; but see also

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36.

37.

38. 39.

40.

41. 42. 43.

145

Tertullian, Apol., xx; xx:ii, 1; xli, 1 (against Rome); cf. also viii; Arnobius, Adv. gent., ii, 14, 32-3, 61 (although admittedly he presents no clear-cut eschatological picture because he does not exclude reincarnations: 16, 28). On Christian hope in the Creeds: e.g., Justin, Dial., 132.1; the Old Roman Creed (R); cf. Kelly, Early Christian Creeds, pp. 102-3, 114; and on the Nicene Creed (IV), p. 216; cf. idem, Early Christian Doctrines, London, 1960 edn, pp. 479ff. Polycarp, apud Mart. Polyc., 14; Priscilla, apud Epiphanius, Panar., XLVIII, ii, 4; anon., apud Eusebius, Hist. eccles., V, xvi, 13; cf. Luke 21:9; Tertullian, Apol., viii; xx; xx:ii, 1; xli, 7; Arnobius, Adv. gent., ii, 14, 32-3, 61. Cf. also W. J. Burghardt, 'Primitive Montanism: Why Condemned?', in D. Y. Hadidian (ed.), From Faith to Faith, p. 343; cf. p. 346. A great deal of work has still to be done on the terminology of retribution in early Christian versions of the Bible to test the relative inelasticity of meaning in Greek, Syriac and Latin. Her diary is now included in a male writer's narration of her death: see P. Wilson-Kastner, G. R. Kastner, A. Millin, R. Rader and J. Reedy, A Lost Tradition: Women Writers of the Early Church, New York, 1981, p. 24; cf. pp. 1-12. Cf. also, e.g., Mart. Pion., xv; Martyr. Apoll., vii, 39, using H. Musurillo (ed. and trans.), The Acts of the Christian Martyrs, Oxford, 1972, pp. 100, 140. Cf. E. C. Rust, The Christian Understanding of History, London, 1947, chs 5, 13-14, 19, not forgetting the rapidly altering contemporary perspectives on sacrifice relating to Christian martyrdom and to liturgy and thought; cf. R. J. Daly, The Origins of the Christian Doctrine of Sacrifice, London, 1978, ch. 5. I cite a Latin proverb of unknown origin. Frg. 3 is preserved in Oecuminius (Comment. in Act. Apos., i); Frg. 5, apud Irenaeus, Adv. haer., v, 36; Frg. 6, apud Eusebius, Hist. eccles., III, xxxix, 12 (cf. 1, on the cited number of books) -using the ANCL ordering of fragments. On Papias' millenarism as one Jewish response to the fall ofJerusalem: see U. H.-J. Kortner, Papias von Hieropolis: ein Beitrag zur Geschichte das friihen Christenturns (FRLANT, 133), Gottingen, 1983, p. 187; cf. Papias, Frg. 23 (J. Kiirzinger, EM, 4, Regensburg, 1983). Cf. also Act. Petr., 32; Hippolytus, Contra haer., vi, 15, Augustine later denying the incident; Epist., 86 (Casulano ordering) I ix, 21 (Migne); and cf. Chapter 8 below. For background on Cleopas see Luke 24:18a; Papias, Frg. 10. Cf. also Sozomen, Hist. eccles., V, 21. For background see esp. Eusebius, Hist. eccles., IV, xxii, 8. On Hegesippus' Jewishness: W. Telfer, 'Was Hegesippus a Jew?', HTR, 53/2 (1960): 143-53; E. Bammel, 'Die Anfiinge der Kirchengeschichte im Spiegel der jiidischen Quellen', Aug, 28 (1988): 367-7. On the interest in succession: see esp. H. J. Lawlor, Eusebiana: Essays on the Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius, Bishop of Caesarea, Oxford, 1912, essay 1; C. H. Turner, 'Apostolic Succession', in H. B. Sweet (ed.), Essays on the Early History of the Church and the Ministry, London, 1918, pp. 115-19, 207; J. Quasten, Patrology, Utrecht, 1949, vol. 1, pp. 284-7 (and the literature cited there); R. L. P. Milburn, 'A Note on .dwc5oxrf, inK. Aland and F. L. Cross (eds), Studia Patristica [1955] (TU, 63/8), Berlin, 1957, pp. 243-4.

146

Early Christian historiography

44. As an illustration of his interest, Hegesippus evidently thought that Cleopas was the second bishop of Jerusalem, presumably after the fall of the city in 70 cE: cf. Eusebius, Hist. eccles., III, xxxii, 1-2. 45. R. M. Grant, 'Eusebius, Josephus and the Fate of the Jews', in P. J. Achtemeier (ed.), SBL 1979 Seminar Papers, vol. 2, pp. 71-6. Cf. also the later pseudoHegesippus, De Excid. Hierosolym., apud Abdias, Hist. Apos., i, 16-20. On the darkness as a significant solar eclipse: see Thallus, Hist., apud Julius Africanus, Chron., xviii, 1; Phlegon, Chron., apud Origen, Contra Cels., ii, 14 (and in Julius, xviii, 1 again). 46. A. di Berardino, 'Gli apocrifi cristiani e illoro significato', in A. di Berardino and B. Studer (eds), Storia della Teologia: I: Epoca Patristica, Casale Monteferrato, 1993, pp. 286-92, 294-5. 47. For the relevant pages in English translation: see W. Schneemelcher (ed.), New Testament Apocrypha (trans. R. M. L. Wilson), Cambridge, 1992, vol. 2, pp. 145-51. For questions of textual criticism we await the publication ofJ.-M. Prieur's edition. 48. Schneemelcher, pp. 242-3. The phrase 'the God of vengeance' reflects Ps 94:1 and Exod 20:5. The Acta Pauli also derive from the second century: cf. C. Dagron (trans. and ed.), Vie et miracles de Sainte Thecla (SH, 62), Paris, 1978, pp. 13ff. 49. Schneemelcher, pp. 194-200. For an introduction to questions of textual criticism: see E. Junard and J.-D. Kaestli, L'histoire des Actes apocryphes des Apotres du Ill' au IX• siecle: le cas des Actes de Jean (Cahiers de la RThPh, 7), Geneva, 1982; cf. also J. E. Salisbury, Church Fathers, Independent Virgins, London, 1991, pp. 5ff. on differing attitudes to devout virgins in Christian literature. 50. Cf. the tradition behind Abdias, Hist. Apos., vi, 21-3 (Persia); and for a later, better-known case see Vit. Patr. (Migne, PL, vol. 73, col. 955 [Egypt]). On unavenged ridiculing of the gods in e.g. pantomime: see Lactantius, Div. Inst., V, xxi. At the same time we should not ignore unavenged acts of desecration by pagan rulers: Suetonius, Tib., 36; Chaeremon, apud Porphyry, Abst., iv, 7. Cf. E. M. Smallwood, 'Jews and Romans in the Early Empire: Part 1', HT, 15/4 (1965): 236. 51. See Trompf, 'Macrohistory and Acculturation', CSSH, 31/4 (1989): 637-9. 52. For example, Luke 1:5; 2:1; 3:1; Cf. E. Kasemann, 'Unity and Multiplicity in the New Testament Doctrine of the Church', in his New Testament Questions for Today (trans. W. J. Montagne) (NTL), London, 1969, pp. 254-5; 'Paulus und Friihkatholizismus', ZthK, 60 (1963): 75-89. On relevant usages of Luke: see Tatian, Diatess., xlii, 3; Clement, Exhort. Graec.; Origen, Contra Cels.; Hom. Luc.; down to Ambrose, Exposit. in Luc., prolog., 11; Excid. urb. Hieros.; Hist. Hieros.; Chrysostom, Hom. in Act. Apos.; Arator, Hist. Apos.; Nicetas of Heracleia, Luc. Caten. Cf. J. Reuss, Lukas-Kommentiiire aus der griechischen Kirche (TU, 130), Berlin, 1984; J. Quasten, op. cit., vol. 2 [1962], p. 51; T. Graumann, Christus interprens (PTS, 41), Leiden, 1994. 53. Cf. C. de Boor, Neue Fragmente des Papias, Hegesippus und Pierus in bisher unbekannten Exzerpten aus der Kirchengeschichte des Philippus Sidetes (TU, vol. 5/2), Leipzig, 1888, pp. 165-84. A life of St Pamphilus is also attributed to

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54. 55. 56.

57. 58.

59.

60.

61.

62. 63. 64.

147

Pierus, and is thus possibly the earliest of the 'hagiological', as opposed to the limited 'martyrological', approaches to the life-stories of extra-Biblical figures. A. S. Christensen, Lactantius the Historian (OG, 21), Copenhagen, 1980, ch. 3. See R. Pichon, Lactance, Paris, 1901, for background and details. (The text of Lactantius used is that of S. Brandt and G. von Laubmann [eds], CSEL, Vienna, 1890-5.) On the absence of Biblical quotations: see B. Leadbetter, 'Lactantius and Classical Paideia in the Latin West', in T. W. Hillard et al. (eds), Ancient History in a Modern University (E. Judge Festschrift), Grand Rapids, 1998, vol. 2, pp. 245-52; but cf. the list of allusions to the Scriptures in J.-B. Le Brun and N. L. Dufresnoy (eds), Lactantius: Opera Omnia, Paris, 1748, vol. 1, pp. cxxviii-cxxxii; I estimate Div. Inst., IV as including the largest number of allusions. On the use of the Roman Sibyls: see Trompf, Recurrence, p. 210; cf. Div. Inst., I, xv; IV, vi; VII, xx, xxiv; Ira Dei, xxii, with Theophilus of Antioch's appeals to the Sibyls providing interesting background. For these and wider concerns: see R. M. Ogilvie, The Library of Lactantius, Oxford, 1978. U. Pizzani, 'Osservazioni sulla genesi della teologia della storia in Lattanzio', Aug, 16/1 (1976): 53ff. For Biblical background: e.g., Rom 3:5-19; Ps. Sol. 7:3-5. Cf. Ira Dei, xx; Div. Inst., II, xvii on divine patience; for a more detailed exposition: R. van den Broek, 'Deus habet imperium, ergo et iram: Lactantius over de toorn van God', in A. and A. de Jong (eds), Kleine Encyclopedie van der Toorn, op. cit., pp. 33-42. For the Biblical background: see, e.g., 2 Cor 6:6, and Chapter 2 above on perseverance in Luke; cf. U. Falkenroth and C. Brown, in DNTT, s.v. 'patience' ["a(JTeQtw; f-W"(JoOvpia]. See also Justin Martyr, De monarch., 1 (PG, vol. 1, col. 313); Tertullian, De paenit., viii; De pudic., x (divine patience); Origen, Eis martyr. protrep., xliii, 302 (P. Hoetschau edn, GCS, Leipzig, 1899, p. 40), etc.; cf. M. Spanneut, 'Patience et martyrs chez les Peres de l'Eglise', in G. Pelland (introd.), Pleroma (P. Antonio Orbe Festschrift), Santiago de Compostela, 1987, ch. 31 (martyrs' patience). This is a locus classicus for the notion of religious fraternity in antiquity. For background outside the Bible: see, e.g., Plato, Menex., 239a; Xenophon, Anab., VII, ii, 25; Vettius Valens, Anthol., VI, 11; cf. Clarke, The Roman Mind, ch. 12, on relevant Stoic notions. Frend, Martyrdom, p. 518 (quotation). For the ascription of the Oratio ad Sanctos to Lactantius, writing in the name of Constantine: cf. E. Barker (ed.), From Alexander to Constantine, Oxford, 1956, pp. 215-17; and more recently, D. de Decker, 'Le "discours a l'assembU:e des saints" attribue a Constantin et l'oeuvre de Lactance', in J, Fontaine and M. Perrin (eds), Lactance et son temps: recherches actuelles (Actes du IVe Colloque d'Etudes Historiques et Patristiques, Chantilly, 21-23 September, 1976), Paris, 1978, pp. 75-87; T. D. Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius, Cambridge, MA, 1981, pp. 73-4. F. Heim, 'L'influence exercee par Constantin sur Lactance', in Fontaine and Perrin (eds), op. cit., pp. 57-8. Cf. Cochrane, Christianity, op. cit., pp. 218ff. So ii (Nero); iii (Domitian); iv (Decius); v (Valerian); vi (Aurelian); xvii (Diocletian: his long reign lasting 'for as long as he did not defile his hands

148

65.

66. 67. 68.

69. 70.

71.

72.

73.

Early Christian historiography with the blood of the just', ix); xxiv, xxxiii (Galerius Maximian); xxvi (Severus); xxviii, xxx (Maximian Herculius, whose flight from Rome is paralleled with that of Tarquinius Superbus); xliv-1 (Maximin). Eutropius, Brev., IX, 28; X, 2, 8, 18 (as for the first quotation, even the Christians Constantine and Jovian had been so numbered!); Zosimus, Hist. nov., III-IV (on suggestions of sacrilege by Christians); cf. Lactantius, Mort. pers., e.g., vii; ix, on the theme of hubris. That is, the principles are not 'natural' but are the result of God's own will; cf. Mort. pers., xxxi. Cf. Trompf, Recurrence, pp. 234-5. See Mort. pers., i; x:xiv, finis; xxxiv; xlvii; !iii; cf. xviii; xliv; De Ira Dei, xvi; Div. Inst., V, xxii-xxiv. On Lactantius' 'elimination' of fortune, see De fals. sapient. philosoph., III, xxviii; xxix (PL, vol. 6, cols 437ff., 440-2); and cf. Augustine later, Civ. Dei, IV, 18. As a result, Western medieval appeals to fortuna were not common in written text; yet cf. esp. A. Doran, 'Fortuna im Mittelalter und in der Renaissance', Vortrage der Bibliothek Warburg 211 (1922-3): 7lff.; M. R. Patch, The Tradition of the Goddess Fortuna', SCSML, 3 (1922): 186ff. Mort. pers., ii; iii; vi; xxxi; xlix; Script. Hist. Aug., s.v. tyranni triginta, etc.; and see also above, p. 121. For example, Suetonius, Vit. Caes., VII [Nero], 27, 35-6, 39; cf. 47 (vices, etc.); cf. 50, 57 (death by self-administered poison); XII [Domitian], 16-17 (assassination), 23 (negative assessment); cf. Lactantius, Mort. pers., ii (no burial place for Nero; cf. Chapter 7 below); iii (implied murder of Domitian). Ibid., iv (Decius' body left to the birds); v (Valerian as sacrificial meat); vi (Aurelian murdered) - yet in Script. Hist. Aug. Decius' murder is omitted, Valerian's body is returned (Pollio, Val. duo., viii, 3) and Aurelian's death passed over quickly (Vopiscus, Div. Aurel., xli, 2). For the Latin phrase, see Mort. pers., xliii. On the dating of the rescript's promulgation and its inscription on stone columns (late in 312): see esp. Lawlor, Eusebiana, op. cit., pp. 223-4; Lawlor and J. E. L. Oulton (eds), Eusebius, Bishop of Caesarea: The Ecclesiastical History and the Martyrs of Palestine, London, 1954, vol. 2, pp. 287-8, 296-7. Dissemination of the rescript was evidently not restricted to Phoenicia (Eusebius saw one inscription of it in Latin at Tyre: Hist. eccles., IX, vii, 3); the decree was intended to be proclaimed in most cities of the Roman East: vii, 1. Cf. W. Dittenberger (ed.), OGIS, Leipzig, 1905, vol. 2, no. 569 [p. 252]. Cf. also H. Castritius, Studien zu Ma.ximinus Daia (FAS, 2), Frankfurt, 1969, pp. 48-51,68. Note that the Greek edition of Eusebius used is that of E. Schwartz and T. Mommsen, GCS, 9/2, Leipzig, 1908 (2 parts/vols), and that what follows revises and adds to my The Logic of Retribution in Eusebius of Caesarea', in B. Croke and A. M. Emmet-Nobbs (eds), History and Historians in Late Antiquity, Oxford, 1983, pp. 132-46. Thus Edward Gibbon, Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, London, Everyman edn, 1910, vol. 1, p. 397; cf. pp. 385-6, 396-9. In the year 307 there were six consular holders of the purple, although as Lactantius rather ineffectively tries to say, they technically had different titles - Augustus, Emperor, and Caesar: Mort. pers., xxv. Cf. for the ordering of details: R. S. Bagnall, A. S. R. Schwartz

Eusebius, Lactantius and their predecessors

74. 75.

76. 77.

78.

79.

80. 81. 82.

83.

149

and K. A. Worp, Consuls of the Later Roman Empire, Atlanta, 1993, pp. 148-52; and see Barnes, The New Empire of Diocletian and Constantine, Cambridge, MA, 1982, ch. 11.2. Lactantius, Mort. pers., xxvii-xxxii; Eutropius, Brev., X; cf. Aurelius Victor, [Hist. Abbrev.] Lib. de Caes., xxxix-xl; Zosimus, Hist. Nov., I, ii, 10; Socrates, Hist. eccles., i, 2. In all probability Book X of Hist. eccles. was added as an appendix some twelve years after the completion of the first nine books (note X, i, 2-3; cf. 8; Lawlor, Eusebiana, p. 261); but see below, p. 134 on this earlier edition still not necessarily being the first. Eusebius, who died c. 340, could not possibly have foreseen the attempt at a pagan revival under Julian (361-363). Hist. eccles., IX, viii, 9 (cf. TWV afJepirwv . .. avfJ()(OJlWV); 12 (f.J,U'taf.J,aTO~ 'Xai aaef3ela~); 14 (roil {Jt Vf.J,ii~ aglwv flrafJAWV reTVXTJ'XEVat ... ). Eusebius clearly means to make something special of f.J,a(JTV(Jla here: the Latin equivalent in the extant Lycian inscription (see note 72 above) is [testabi]tur (1:5). Cf. also R. M. Grant, 'The Religion of Maximin Daia', in his Christian Beginnings: Apocalypse to History, London, 1983, ch. 9. The wealth of detail (VIII, viii, 6-12) almost suggests a first-hand report- but it is right to suspect exaggeration here, for there are few geographical pointers given to the locations of these disasters and there is no other record of the Armenian engagement against which to gauge how serious it actually was. Points in common between the later calamities (that follow the rescript) and the two earlier ones include: shamelessness (III, vi, 5, 20; IX, viii, 7; cf. VII, xxii, 10), the desperate selling of possessions for scraps of food (III, vi, 3; IX, viii, 6), the rotting of great numbers of corpses (III, vi, 15; VII, xxii, 8, 10; IX, ix-x; cf. the phrase wan:e(J ei{)w)..a . .. , III, vi, 12; IX, viii, 8), and weeping and wailing (III, vi, 13; VII, xxii, 2; IX, viii, 11). There are also references to cannibalism (III, vi, 21-8; IX, viii, 10) and to death as the equalizer (VII, xxii, 9-10; IX, ix, 11; cf. also VII, xxii, 7, 10; IX, ix, 13, 14). The 'Christ of God' is an expression unique to Luke in the New Testament: 9:20; 23:35; cf. also Origen, Contra Cels., i, 49. On the connection between the Jewish War and the death of Christ, see Hegesippus above. That is, Gallienus established peace after the 'Xa'XOT(JOJl{a of Decius and his successors (xxii, 12), and eventually overthrew Fulvius Macrianus (xxiii, 2). Cf., e.g., Grant, Augustus to Constantine, op. cit., ch. 11. Did Dionysius the Great's panegyric to Gallienus (VII, xxiii, 1-4) act as model for Eusebius' own paean to Constantine? It is tempting to conclude that it did, more especially because the correct fixing of the date of Easter - an issue of vital importance to Eusebius (IV, xxvi, 3; V, xxiii-xxv; VII, xxxii, 14-19; Pasch. Heort.)- was made possible by Gallienus (Hist. eccles., VII, xxiv, 4; cf. 20) and settled by Constantine (Vit. Const., iii, 12). Cf. N. Zernov, 'Eusebius and the Paschal Controversy at the End of the Second Century', CQR, 116 (1933): 24-41. Apart from a few earlier allusions to tyranny in Hist. eccles. (cf. sources quoted in III, vi, 22; V, i, 27), all references to it are in the last three books (VIII, i, 8; xiii, 15; xiv, 3-17; IX, i, 1; ii, 1; iv, 1; vii, 16; viii, 2-ix, 11, 13; x, 1; xi, 7; X, ii,

150

84.

85.

86. 87. 88. 89.

90.

91.

92. 93.

Early Christian historiography 1; iv, 14, 35; viii, 2; ix, 2, 9; cf. Vit. Const., i, 3, 23, 26-7, 35-8, 47, 49, 59; ii, 1-4, 18-19; iii, 12; iv, 12; Mart. Pales., IV, 1(L); VII, 7(S); VIII, S(L); IX, 1(L). On Eusebius' panegyrical writing as an attempt to create a 'Constantinian perspective': see esp. H. A. Drake, In Praise of Constantine (UCPCS, 15), Los Angeles, 1975, pp. 4-8, 59-60, 75-9. Historical problems surround various of the official Constantinian statements in Vit. Const., since the MSS do not make it obvious where some (though certainly not all) quotations begin and end, and whether interpolations have been made. For background: see esp. A. Crivelucci, 'I documenti della V.C.', StS, 7 (1898): 412-29, 453-9; P. Battifol, 'Les documents de la Vita Constantini', BALAC, 4 (1914): 81-90; I. Daniele, I documenti constantiniani della V.C. di Eusebio di Cesarea (AnGreg, 13, Ser. Fac. Hist. Eccles., Sect. B1), Rome, 1938. The previous quotation squares with what is to be expected as the imperial stance at that time. Fertility is associated with virtue (as in Maximin's rescript), although the allusions to oppressive attitudes remind the reader of the defeat of the tyrants. Because the language is not characteristically Eusebian - in the light of the terms used for 'God' (25, 26) and of the retribution that befalls the oppressors ( rwv cqwtf3aiwv rvx6vra~) - there is no reason to suspect Eusebius' editorial modification or creative involvement here. Contrast this with·Constantine's letter to Sapor II (as discussed in Chapter 4 below). See esp. T. Mommsen, Medieval and Renaissance Studies (ed. E. F. Rice), Ithaca, NY, 1959, p. 291; Trompf, Recurrence, pp. 224-5. Note, incidentally, that retributio is patristic and ecclesiastical (not classical) Latin. Socrates, Hist. eccles., i, 2 (... btwyf..lo~ ro.mx6~); cf. Sozomen, Hist. eccles., i, 7. Eutropius, Brev., X, 6; Zosimus, Hist. nov., I, ii, 28; cf. (Eusebius-)Jerome, Chronic. (ed. A. Schoene), Frankfurt, 1875, vol. 2, col. 191. Hist. eccles., X, viii, 11-14; ix, 2; cf. Plato, Resp., 566A, 573C-574A; Polybius, Hist., VI, ix, 8-9; VII, xii, 7. Cf. also Vit. Const., ii, 18. Adjustments were made later to Hist. eccles., IX so that in the tenth book Licinius' defection would not come as a surprise (IX, ix, 1, 12). See also Demonstr. Evang., iv, 8 (157c-158b), 9 (160b-d); Chronic., I (Schoene, vol. 1, cols 7-171). Cf. J. Sirinelli, Les vues historiques d'Eusebe de Cesaree durant Ia periode preniceenne (Universite de Dakar, Faculte des Lettres et Sciences Humaines, Sect. de Lang, et Litt., 10), Dakar, 1961, Pts 1-2. Hist. eccles., VIII, xiii, 10-11 (Diocletian); VIII, xvi, 3; Vit. Const., i, 57-9 (Galerius = Maximian II); Hist. eccles., IX, ix, 1; Vit. Const., i, 38 (Maxentius); Hist. eccles., VIII, xiii, 15; xiv, 7; IX, vii, 2; x, 4-6, 13; Mart. Pales., IX, 1 (L); XIII, 10 (L) (Maximin [II) Daia); Hist. eccles., X, ix, S-6 (Licinius). Cf. VII, i, 1; X, viii, 9; XIII, i, 23 (earlier cases); Mart. Pales., VII, 8 (L, S) (overall view). See esp. J. L. Creed (trans. and ed.), Lactantius' De mortibus persecutorum (OECT), Oxford, 1984, pp. xv-xxv, on historical details about reigns in Lactantius' work unavailable elsewhere. Trompf, Recurrence, p. 235; cf. esp. Hist. eccles., X, ix, 2; Mart. Pales., III, 7; Demonstr. Evang., iii, 7 (13a-137a). Apart from those I have discussed in Recurrence, pp. 204-5, 209, 213n, 219n, 224-5, see other recurrence motifs in Hist. eccles., IX, ix, 3-8; Vit. Const., i, 12, 38 (Maxentius paralleled with Pharaoh); ibid., i, 12, 16, 38-9; ii, 11-12, 14 (Constantine paralleled with

Eusebius, Lactantius and their predecessors

94. 95. 96. 97.

98.

99.

100.

101.

151

Moses); Demonstr. Evang., iii, 2 (90-94c) (Christ and Moses); and for the message that arrogant tyrants are inevitably deposed: see Mart. Pales., VII, 8; cf. Hist. eccles., IX, vii, 16; xi, 6; X, iv, 28-32; Vit. Const., i, 6-7, 23, 48, 52, etc. Cf. also Hist. eccles., Vl, xxix, 1-3, and see below, note 153. G. F. Chesnut, The First Christian Histories: Eusebius, Socrates, Sozomen, Theodoret, and Evagrius, Macon, 1986 edn, esp. pp. 48-9. See Migne, PG, vol. 24, cols 529-605; cf. D. S. Wallace-Hadrill, 'Eusebius of Caesarea's Commentary on Luke: Its Origin and Early History', HTR, 67 (1974): esp. 58-9. M. Hardwick, josephus as a Historical Source in Patristic Literature Through Eusebius (BJS, 128), Atlanta, 1989. Herod's disease has been tentatively diagnosed by Dr R. R. Trompf: cf. Z. Farid and R. H. Watten, 'Schistosomiasis', International Medicine (Australian edn), N.S. 11/2 (1981): A146-53. Maximin's case was apparently one of death by poisoning. Cf. T. Africa, 'Worms and the Death of Kings', CA, N.S. 1 (1982): 10-12; D. J. Ladouceur, 'The Death of Herod the Great', CP, 76 (1981): 25-34. Eusebius is aware of Matt 6:19-20 on this subject, but has no non-Christian sources; cf., e.g., Ursinus, apud Agapius (Mahboub) of Menbidj, Kitab al'Unvan, fol. 6•-7' (PO, vol. 7/4, pp. 470-1), perhaps providing the tradition behind Macrobius, Satumal., iv, 11. Cf. Luke 23:6-12; Acts 12:1-2, 20-23; Josephus, Antiq., XVIII, 237, 252; XIX, 343ff. (a passage quoted by Josephus at considerable length); Bell. ]ud., II, 181ff. Eusebius, unable to understand why Luke might decline to distinguish Agrippa I (see Chapter 2), sought to harmonize the Lucan and Josephan accounts of Agrippa's death by having the king see an angel (x, 6: the avenging angel of Acts 12:23) rather than an owl (Josephus, Antiq., XIX, 346); cf. M. Young, 'Josephus and the Death of Agrippa', Stele, 3 (1997): 71-5. His information on Pilate's suicide is ascribed to pagan sources in Chronic. (Schoene, vol. 2, col. 150a); cf. the alternative tradition that Nero had him summarily executed: Joannes Malalas, (Slavonic) Chron., X, 8 (B257-8) (Spinka, 63). Some Christian sources, on the contrary, have Pilate repent- e.g., Tertullian, Apol., xxi; Act. Pilat. (fifth century), with [Lat. a], xiii[xxix] using Pilate as someone who can now argue that the Jews had further punished themselves by condemning the Christ. Hist. eccles., I, vi, 6-9; cf. iii, 8; Demonstr. Evang., iv, 10 (166d), 15 (176b177d); viii, 2 (396d-397a). There was therefore no reason for Eusebius to describe the assassination of Ananias, the last high priest (cf. Acts 23:3; Josephus, Bell. ]ud., II, 441). Cf. (on the foreigners of the Herodian line) III, x, 12; Demonstr. Evang., iii, 2 (96a). Did Eusebius also believe that Christ was the true fulfilment of the Pharaonic line (Hist. eccles., I, v, 2; cf. Chronic. [Schoene, vol. 1, col. 100]; Demonstr. Evang., iii, 7 [140a]; ix, 2 [421d-422d])? In fact, Cleopatra VII died around 30 BCE and not, as Eusebius supposed, at the time of the Nativity; and even though her son Ptolemy XV 'Caesarion' was killed by Octavian apparently soon thereafter (see esp. Suetonius, Aug., 17), other claimants survived, including King Ptolemy son of Juba (at least 20-40 cE) (cf. Dittenberger, OGIS, vol. 1, Frgs 197-8), thus weakening Eusebius' case. Subsequent Eastern

152

102. 103.

104.

105. 106.

107.

108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114.

Early Christian historiography chroniclers and archivists amended and corrected his work - e.g., Anon. Syrian, Cantin. Chron. Euseb. Caesar. a Jacob. lab. aman. fact. [pp. 268ff.], in Fragmenta Chronici Anonymi Auctoris ad Annum Domini 813 Pertinentia (trans. E. W. Brooks, CSCO, Ser. 3, vol. 4, Paris, 1895, pp. 202ff.). Cf. I. Krivouchine, 'L'Epoque pn!chretienne dans l"'Histoire Ecclesiastique" d'Eusebe de Cesaree', Trad, 51 (1996): 292. Cf. also Grant, Eusebius as Church Historian, Oxford, 1980, ch. 9. These authors were important to Eusebius as sources (as in II, xxiii; IV, xxii and VI, xxxviii). In II, xxxiii, 19 he claims it to be a collective Jewish view that the siege of Jerusalem was the result of killing James the Just, but then quotes the Josephan passage that we possess only through Origen (and which he probably lifted from Hegesippus) that the Jews did indeed receive retribution after this stoning. See also above, and note Hardwick, op. cit., p. 83. See esp. W. Eichrodt, Theology of the Old Testament, vol. 1, pp. 263-82 (the best Old Testament equivalent to Dike being Yahweh's vindicating mishpatim: e.g., Pss 103:6, 146:7); cf. Eusebius, Hist. eccles., X, iv, 30-2; Comm. in Ps. On appropriate &xTf in patristic literature before Eusebius: see, e.g., Justin Martyr, Apol., i, 17; Methodius, Symp., 10. Wisd 1:8; 11:20; 14:31; cf. LXX Deut 32:41, 43; Luke 21:22 (om. Mark, Matt), and (put into another's mouth) Acts 28:4; but on 4 Mace, see above. Hist. eccles., IV, vi, 3; VIII, xiv, 7; IX, xi, 6; X, iv, 59; cf. VI, x; IX, vi, 1; xi, 5; and on other expressions see, e.g., I, viii, 3; II, i, 12; Ill, v, 7; vi, 1; IX, x, 14; Mart. Pales., XIII, 10 (L). On 1f al;ia olxTf in Josephus, see Antiq., VIII, 289; IX, 282; XIII, 107; Bell. ]ud., IV, 185; cf. also Polybius, Hist., IV, lxxxi, 5; XV, xx, 5; XVIII, xliv, 11 ('lj dQ~t6T;ovaa OlxTf), etc. Note Hist. eccles., VI, ix, 7 (d n]c; O{X'f/oQai: note also G. F. Chesnut, The First Christian Histories, op. cit., p. 49. As well as by Cassiodorus, of course, using Epiphanius; cf. also Evagrius on his fifth-century predecessors: Hist. eccles., prolog. What J. G. Dowling wrote of these matters a century and a half ago still holds good (An Introduction to the Critical Study of Ecclesiastical History, London, 1838, pp. 44-5, 51-3); see also Aftermath below. For use of the relevant works in different types of historical studies: see H. Lietzmann, History of the Early Church, op. cit., esp. vol. 3; A. von Harnack, Lehrbuch der Dogmengeschichte, Freiburg, 1894-7, esp. vol. 3; J. N. D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines, London, 1960, pp. 239-40, 406-8; P. Meinhold, Geschichte der kirchlichen Historiographie (OA), Munich, 1967; and more recently, R. A. Markus, 'Church History and the Early Church Historians', in D.

Rufinus of Aquileia between East and West

32.

33. 34.

35. 36.

37.

179

Baker (ed.), The Materials, Sources and Methods of Ecclesiastical History (EHS), Oxford, 1975, pp. 1ff.; yet for shifts of interest towards historiographers' conceptual life, Y.-M. Duval, Les metamorphoses de l'historiographie aux IV• et V• siecles, Budapest, 1984 [note new book, see Bibliography]; I. E. Karagiannopoulos and G. Weiss, Quellenkunde zur Geschichte von Byzanz (324-1453) (SGOE, 14), Wiesbaden, 1982, pp. 69-70 and passim; P. Allen, 'Some Aspects of Hellenism in the Early Greek Church Historians', Trad, 43 (1987): 368ff. For comments on Church history as a genre: e.g., E. Schwartz, 'Ober Kirchengeschichte', in his Gesammelte Schriften, Berlin, 1938, vol. 1, pp. 116ff.; J. Nirschl, Propi:ideutik der Kirchengeschichte, Mainz, 1888. E.g., R. M. Grant, Miracle and Natural Law in Graeco-Roman and Early Christian Thought, Amsterdam, 1952; M. Meslin, Le Christianisme dans l'empire romaine, Paris, 1970, esp. p. 168; L. C. Ruggini, The Ecclesiastical Histories and the Pagan Historiography: Providence and Miracles', Ath, N.S. 1-2 (1977): 107ff.; F. Thelamon, Parens et Chretiens au IVe siecle; l'apport de l"Histoire ecclesiastique' de Rufin d'Aquilee (EA), Paris, 1981, pt 3. The work of Chesnut and G. Downey notwithstanding. See esp. Downey, 'The Perspective of the Early Church Historians', GRBS, 6 (1965): 57-70. For this self-perception: Gelasius of Caesarea, Hist. eccles. [lost; yet cf. Fabricius, Bibliotheca Graeca, Hamburg, 1727, vol. 5, col. 24]; Rufinus, prolog. (SchwartzMommsen edn ofEusebius, GCS, 9/2, vol. 2, p. 951); Philostorgius, Hist. eccles., i, 2; Socrates, Hist. eccles., i, 1; Sozomen, Hist. eccles., i, 1; Theodoret, Hist. eccles., i, 1; and even Evagrius, Hist. eccles., i, prolog. (and by implication the lost Eustathius of Epiphaneia, whom he knows), as well as the Monophysite Zachariah of Mitylene (cf. Syr. chron., ii, 1), whom he rebuts. On these last two, see Aftermath below. For background: A. di Berardino (ed.), Patrology, Rome, 1986 [follows Quasten, as vol. 4], pp. 247-8, 250. See esp. F.-X. Murphy, Rufinus of Aquileia (345-411): His Life and Works (CUASMH, N.S. 6), Washington, 1945, chs 3-5; C. P. Hammond, 'The Last Ten Years of Rufinus; Life and the Date of His Move South of Aquileia', JTS, 28/2 (1977): 372ff.; cf. Eusebius, Hist. eccles., VI, ii; viii; xix-xxvi; xxx; xxxii; xxxvi, etc. The Jerome-Rufinus conflict was very bitter, Jerome rejecting Rufinus' acceptance of Origen's teaching that all human souls were pre-existent, and eventually accusing Rufinus of conspiring to kill him! See Rufinus, Apol., i; Jerome, Apol., iii, 1; cf. i, 11; ii, 4ff., and passim. Schwartz-Mommsen, p. 951, II. 23-4; cf. 6ff. Note that Mommsen and Schwartz have chosen to present two tenth books of Rufinus, the first of these inserted beside Eusebius' Greek whenever an attempt at translation appears to apply (thus pp. 859-63, 893-903, before Rufinus' own Book x, pp. 937ff.). The text-form Rufinus is likely to have used in MSS BD has the doxology of X, i, 1 to complete Book IX (for discussion: R. Lacqueur, Eusebius als Historischer, op. cit., p. 190; cf. H. Emonds, Zweite Auflage im Altertum [KSU, 14], Leipzig, 1941, pp. 25ff.); though Rufinus does imply he is rendering a truer Book X to Eusebius with the expression decimum vera (prolog. [Schwartz-Mommsen, p. 952, I. 9]); and for discussion of Rufinus' possible decision not to translate Eusebius' panegyric: see J. E. L. Oulton, 'Rufinus's Translation of the Church History of Eusebius', JTS, 30 (1928): 152.

180

Early Christian historiography

38. Here we accept Rufinus, not Gelasius of Caesarea, as the author of the two additional books, following especially P. Peeters, 'Les debuts du christianisme en Georgie', AnB, 1 (1932): 5-58; F. Diekamp, 'Gelasius von Caesarea in Palaestina', OCA, 117 (1938): 16-32; and Murphy, op. cit., pp. 160-3, rather than A. Glas, Die Kirchengeschichte des Gelasios von Kaisareia, Leipzig, 1914, pp. 1-3; and more recently (but ambiguously) Momigliano, The Classical Foundations of Modern Historiography, Berkeley, 1990, p. 143. Photius (Cod., 89 [67a, ll. 35-9]) held that Gelasius merely translated Rufinus' history: W. T. Treadgold, The Nature of the Bibliotheca of Photius, Washington, DC, 1980, p. 63; but such a translation would be impossible, since Gelasius died at least six years before Rufinus completed his work (cf. E. Honigmann, 'Gelase de Cesaree et Rufin d'Aquilee', BAB, 40 [1954]: 122-61). For other possibilities: see Chapter 5 below, note 38. 39. Rufinus, Hist. eccles., x, 1 actually follows on very neatly from Eusebius' conclusions at Hist. eccles., VII, xxxii, 30-1. Whereas Eusebius, VIII-X (= Rufinus, viii-ix) was treated as a special block of material covering Eusebius' own day, Rufinus might have perceived a major binding theme of his predecessor to be ecclesiastical bwLat!; as divina providentia. For significant uses of providentia in his own history see xi [=ii], 19, 28; and also ii, 1 (divina dementia), 29 (Dei favor). Christensen, Rufinus of Aquileia and the Historia Ecclesiastica Lib. VIII-IX of Eusebius, (HM, 58), Copenhagen, 1989, p. 9; cf. E. Schwartz in SchwartzMommsen edn of Hist. eccles., vol. 2/3, pp. xlvii-lxi; R. Lacqueur, op. cit.; H. Janne, 'Schwartz et Lacqueur comme les Dioscures de la critique eusebienne', Byz, 8 (1933): 749; Lietzmann, Geschichte, vol. 3, ch. 6, on difficulties and signs of revision in the Eusebian text of Books VIII-IX. See also Christensen, 'The so-called Appendix to Eusebius' Historia Ecclesiastica VIII', CeM, 38 (1983): 177ff. Christensen, Rufinus, pp. 10, 333-6 and passim, and 'Rufinus of Aquileia and the Historia Ecclesiastica, lib. VIII-IX, ofEusebius', StTh, 34 (1980): 129ff. See Chapter 3 above, following (with caution) esp. Barnes, 'The Editions of Eusebius' Ecclesiastical History', loc. cit. Christensen, Rufinus, p. 28, and also pp. 17-19, 21. For the details, ibid., pp. 24-36, 41-6, 52-4, 58-78, 89-103, 108-12. More precise section identifications here derive from Christensen. Ibid., pp. 127-8. Ibid., pp. 127-32. See also Christensen, C. Galerius Valerius Maximinus, Copenhagen, 1974, pp. 103ff.; cf. B. Leadbetter, Galerius and the Tetrarchy, Ann Arbor, 1998. Cf. Lactantius, Mort. pers., xxiv. Christensen suggests that Rufinus and Lactantius both used a common 'imperial' source here: Rufinus, p. 130. Ibid., p. 140 and also pp. 142-3. Ibid., p. 192. Christensen, Galerius, ch. 5; idem, Rufinus, pp. 194-6 (p. 194 for the quotation). Cf. Lactantius, Mort. pers., xxxiii, where, as in Eusebius, this tone is entirely weaker still, Galerius turning just to Deus, while in Eusebius he supplicates 'the God of the universe' (VIII, xvii, 1). On the other hand, see Orosius, Hist. adv. pagan., VII, 28, who is apparently following Rufinus.

182

Early Christian historiography

56. In Rufinus' account, Maximin's persecution appears to be more geographically limited than in Eusebius: Christensen, Rufinus, p. 242. 57. Ibid., pp. 280 (quotation), 294-8; but see Eusebius, Hist. eccles., IX, ix, 3; Vita Canst., i, 2; Lactantius, Mort. pers., xliv; Panegyr., ix, 17; Anon., Vales., iv, 12; and H. J. Lawlor and J. E. L. Oulton (ed. and trans.), Eusebius, vol. 2, p. 299. 58. Christensen, Rufinus, p. 127. 59. Hist. eccles., esp. x [=i], 2, 7-8, 11; for gratia see also x, 9. 60. Thus x, 30, erga instaurandas ecclesias, referring mainly to the work of Hilary and Eusebius of Vercelli. 61. See Philostorgius, Hist. eccles., vii, 1; Socrates, Hist. eccles., iii, 11 (the closest to Rufinus in this: see Chapter 5 below); Sozomen, Hist. eccles., v, 1-3; Theodoret, Hist. eccles., iii, 1 (more emphasis on 'concealed impiety for a considerable time'). 62. The use of lupus here also has a unifying effect on his whole enterprise in both translating and continuing Eusebius: Hist. eccles., I, i, 2. On the element of arbitrariness in Rufinus' phrase sed haec omnia post Athanasii obitum in xi, 2: note that Athanasius died in 373, in the middle of Valens' reign (364-378), which was more generally known for its persecutions (see, e.g., Socrates, Hist. eccles., iv, 6; Theodoret, Hist. eccles., iv, 5; Hilary of Poitiers, Hist. frag. (Collect.), apud Jerome, De vir. illustrib., 100). Lucius figures in Valens' reign in Socrates, Hist. eccles., iv, 24; Sozomen, Hist. eccles., vi, 20, yet given apparently less stress. 63. Cf. Chron. Pascal., 364-75 (trans. and ed. M. and M. Whitby, TTH, 7, Liverpool, 1989, pp. 45-8); and see Chapter 8 below on Sulpicius Severus. 64. Cf. Orosius, Hist. adv. pagan., VII, 35. See also Zosimus, Hist. nov., IV, xlvi; Socrates, Hist. eccles., v, 14; Sozomen, Hist. eccles., vii, 14. 65. Rufinus probably develops a parallel here with Eusebius' account of the Christian seditio and its tyrannical elements, which emerged before Constantine conquered the three tyrants (Hist. eccles., VIII, i, 7-8) (see also notes 12, 13 above). 66. For other Christian Latins extolling Theodosius' victory over tyranny: see esp. Paulinus of Nola, apud Gennadius, De script. eccles., 49; Prudentius, Contr. Symmach., i, 410ff.; Ambrose, De obit. Theod. (PL, vol. 16, cols 1385ff.). See also King, Emperor Theodosius, op. cit., pp. 90-2. 67. Trompf, Recurrence, p. 235; cf. Chapter 3 above on Eusebius. 68. See esp. Eusebius-Rufinus, Hist. eccles., I, viii, 8; II, i, 12; vii; III, v, 6; vii, 1, 8; V, i, 26; IX, x, 14 (poena); I, viii, 3; II, vi, 8; IX, xi, 1 (ultio); II, x, 1; III, v, 3; V, i, 60 ( vindicta). 69. Thus Eusebius-Rufinus, Hist. eccles., I, i, 2; III, vii, 8-9; xi, 1. See also note 39 above, and Chapter 3 on Eusebius. 70. Yet see Socrates, Hist. eccles., iii, 1, 21; Sozomen, Hist. eccles., vi, 2; Theodoret, Hist. eccles., iii, 8-9. Note also Philostorgius, Hist. eccles., vi, 5; vii, 15 for comparisons. 71. I owe the suggested Latin emendation to my colleague Professor Dexter Hoyos. 72. In his favour see R. Snee, 'Valens' Recall of the Nicene Exiles and Anti-Arian Propaganda', GRBS, 26 (1985): 395-419, although she does not consider these historiographical points. Orosius, Hist. adv. pagan., VII, 33 agrees with Rufinus on the recall. Note also the discussion below in Chapter 5 and note 35. 73. Note that neither Rutilius Namatianus nor Theodoret mentions Alaric's sack of

Rufinus of Aquileia between East and West

74. 75.

76.

77. 78. 79.

80. 81. 82.

83.

183

Rome in the West! Zosimus evidently did not get to it (before he died?), although he follows Eunapius in seeing religio-cosmic significance in Alaric's despoliation of Greece: cf. Momigliano, 'Popular Religious Beliefs and the Late Roman Historians', SL, 135 (1975): 83. See also note 44 above. Hist. adv. pagan., VII, 35. Long before comparable accounts by the Greek continuators Socrates, Sozomen and Theodoret, Augustine provides a variant of this incident in Civ. Dei, V, 2 [6]; cf. Orosius, Hist. adv. pagan., VII, 35. Dust storms affecting military outcomes were not unheard of: cf. Plutarch, Vit. Sull., xxvii, 15-16 (and note the servant's divine prophecy in this context! 12-13), but the pagan Zosimus (deliberately?) omits the occurrence (Hist. nov., IV, lviii), and it intriguingly has no place in the later Nestorian Chronicle of Seert (Hist. Nest. [Chron. de Seert], XVI, Ap. 7 [using A. Scher edn, PO, vol. 4/3]). Both emphases at xi, 33. Rufinus characterizes Eugenius as a pagan when he was probably a Christian with pagan supporters (King, Emperor Theodosius, p. 83 ); and is vague about the losses incurred against Theodosius' Gothic auxiliaries. See, e.g., Zosimus, Hist. nov., V, lviii; Socrates, Hist. eccles., v, 35; Sozomen, Hist. eccles., vii, 34. Thelamon, op. cit., esp. pp. 468-72 and passim. P. Brown, 'The Problem of Christianization', unpublished seminar paper, 9 April, Dept of History, University of Sydney, 1991. See Hist. monach., 29-30; Hist. eccles., x, 8 (Life of Antony quoted), and then x, 2-5, 11-21, 27-9, 33-4 with Athanasius' Apol., De Synod., etc. in mind, with the wolf image looking a possible Athanasian conceit, as in Epist. encycl., i; yet cf. also Acts 20:29). In Socrates (Hist. eccles., ii, 1), however, lies the accusation that Rufinus does not have enough information about Athanasius' career (see Chapters 5 and 6 below). Note also the quotation (x, 6) of the Nicene decisions. Perhaps Sabinus was more important than Athanasius as a source of documents for Rufinus: Socrates, Hist. eccles., i, 8; and W. A. Lohr, 'Sabinus of Heraclea: a Reassessment of the Scope and Tendency of His Work' (unpublished paper, Tenth International Conference on Patristic Studies, Oxford, 28 August 1987). For this tension, see Chapter 3 above (on the exchanges between the two at Tyre and Constantinople). This means also that Rufinus lacked most of the material in Eusebius, Hist. eccles., X that is parallel to Vita Const., i, 49-51, 54-6; ii, 10-13 (largely on the lapsing of Licinius). See note 36 above. Soon after Rufinus translated Origen's De principiis and what he took to be Origen's (in this case 'Adamantius'), De recta in Deum fide, he was translating Eusebius and Origen's Biblical commentaries at the same time: see Hammond, loc. cit., p. 428. See esp. R. Striiuli, Origenes der Diamantene, Zurich, 1994, ch. 15 ('Rufinus im Schatter des Athanasius'); cf. E. A. Clark, The Origenist Controversy, Princeton, 1992. Significantly, the 'Adamantius' dialogue defended the usage homoousios before Nicaea (Trompf, 'Significance of the Adamantius Dialogue', in R. A. Pretty [ed.], Adamantius, p. xviii), and so Origen could be rendered theologically 'clean'; yet cf. V. Buchheit, 'Rufinus von Aquileia als Falscher des Adamantiosdialogs', BZ, 51 (1958): 314-28.

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84. See Quasten, Patrology, vol. 3, pp. 384-5, and see Chapter 7 below. 85. From Theodosius I, under whom Rufinus wrote, to Theodosius II (408-450), under whom Philostorgius, Socrates, Sozomen and Theodoret all wrote, the first Theodosius' two sons Arcadius and Honorius reigning in between in the first stage of this succession (cf. this last usage in McCormick, Eternal Victory, ch. 3). 86. Remaining so for centuries ahead: S. Runciman, The Eastern Schism, London, 1970 edn, ch. 1. 87. Jerome, another great mediator of Eastern theological insights to the West, published his Latin translation of the Gospels by 383, and of the Old Testament by 405. His translation of Acts revised older versions only in a minor way. As for his completion of the Eusebian Chronicorum (in 380), it was not strictly Church history. 88. Start with B. Altaner, 'Augustinus und Eusebios von Kaiserea. Eine quellenkritische Untersuchung', BZ, 44 (1951): Iff. 89. E.g., Terence, Eunuch., ii, 2, 44; Cicero, Tusc. Orat., v, 26 [69]; Fain., v, 12 (vicissitudo ); Augustus apud Suetonius, Claud., 4 (jluctio as alternation); cf. Diodorus Siculus, Bibliot., I, ii, 5 (Jr:E(JUJTaaa~). While also recalling 1-2 Chronicles (on the monarchs) (Chapter 1 above), a possible Jewish (extra-)Biblical base lies in Jubilees; cf. J. T. Milik, 'De vicissitudinibus notionis et vocabuli jubilaci', VDom, 38 (1950): 162-7; and for the paradigm of 'recurrent crests and hollows' in Rev 4-22: see J. G. Gager, 'The Attainment of Millennia! Bliss Through Myth: the Book of Revelation', in P. D. Hanson (ed.), Visionaries and Their Apocalypses (IRT, 4), Philadelphia and London, 1983, pp. 150-1. 90. See Chapter 3 above; not to forget that the Alexandrian conceptions of history as a process of avw "ai "arw may lie behind both the Eusebian and Rufinian methods (thus Chapter 2 above, esp. on Philo).

PART 3

The Byzantine East

5

Church history as nonconformism: retributive and eschatological elements in Athanasius and Philostorgius Help us to trust only in that forgiveness which needs not to forget. W. E. Orchard, The Temple (1913)

The Constantinian legacy was hardly trouble-free. In the ongoing tensions between pagans and Christians, and with new disputes internal to the Church, the writing of history often took on highly polemical colours. In these chapters about Christian historiography in the Eastern empire, we find that notions of retributive justice were appealed to as much as a means of ideological and community resistance - nonconformism - as they were to legitimize the imperial order. The whole story is intricate in the telling, and cannot be rendered intelligible without attention to the logic of retibution as historians 'answered' each other in turn with counter-hermeneutics, invoking signs of divine requital for their causes.

Athanasius and historical polemics No sooner had Constantine brought respite to the Christians than a new problem raised its head: the Arian controversy. As I have already demonstrated from the pages of Rufinus, orthodox historians were quite capable of representing Arianism as a scourge comparable to persecution. Thus in their eyes no sooner had the impieties of pagan oppression and imperial tyranny been contained than a new aat{3eta reared its head 'like some great monster'. 1 The man most responsible for identifying this alleged apostasy was Athanasius, Alexandria's most renowned bishop, the campaigner for orthodoxy who suffered most at the hands of the pro-Arian parties, at least four times forced into exile from his see and hunted by officials of the emperor Constantius (II) - to Athanasius 'that most irreligious [aae[3tararo~] Augustus'. 2 There are and will remain highly contrasting ways of representing Athanasius' ecclesiastical politics; in the wake of the old debate between Trinitarians and anti-Trinitarians, most scholars defend his

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integrity and heroic survival, while a few worry about his over-defensiveness and possible dissimulations. 3 The relatively provocative spirit in which Athanasius and Constantius approached each other's territories of 'pastoral power' has also been variously assessed. 4 Whatever the shades of opinion, there can be no doubting that the great bulk of Athanasius' opus is polemic, direct and unrefined by rhetorical flourish, with detail piled upon detail as to why the Arians were wrong doctrinally and how they undermined the Church by their actions. At the highest pitches of his contentiousness Arians become 'virtual heathens', 'godless' and 'taxed with atheism', 'profaners of the Holy Spirit' and 'partisans of the Devil', even 'forerunners of the Antichrist's - most of these opinions also being ascribed to, some possibly inspired by, the great saint Antony. 6 Consequently, when Athanasius embarks on a distinctly historiographical work, that is, his History of the Arians (of 358) -the only one in which he refers to himself in the third person- one can expect from him invective.? The stresses of Historia Arianorum, however, are on wrongdoing - on the aaef3eta of the Arians' false accusations, calumnies, hubris, iniquities, cruelties, and outrages of violence, as well as on the tyranny of their imperial supporter8 - rather than on instances of divine retribution. Athanasius fought for an ideological and institutional cause, but having been subject to constant accusations himself, he designed his history to set the record straight about the behaviour of the other side. It is probably of some psychological and theological significance that he does not seek to 'score points' by detailing the ugly ends of his enemies. In the first part of the Historia, for example, which is now lost, it is not likely that he presented an account of Arius' own death, even though he notes that others have informed his readers about 'the Lord's judgement' in this connection (Epist. ad Monach., i [= lii], 2; cf. Hist., vii, 51; see also below). The death of his arch-rival Eusebius of Nicomedia was probably not 'interpreted' either,9 and when in the remaining text of the Historia Athanasius comes to the passing of Gregory (the Arian bishop, a Cappadocian suddenly installed at Alexandria after the 337-338 Council of Antioch), he allows himself only the most veiled reference. The persecuting Gregory is represented as an outrageous robber of mendicants, who must 'very shortly' hear those words (adapted from Matt 25:45) 'inasmuch as you have dishonoured these, you have dishonoured me' (Hist., ii, 13); yet when coming to the time of Gregory's actual death Athanasius has no pointed comment to make (iii, 21; cf. Apol. contr. Arian., ii, 29; iii, 49). By these restraints the champion of the Homoousian cause avoids appearing to pronounce insulting judgement on the individual dead involved in ecclesial dissension (cf. Ad Episc. Aegypt., 19), while in his Apologia against the Arians it is intriguing how he stresses that Eusebius of Nicomedia and his 'Ario-madmen' stand 'self-condemned'

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or, as Constantine is quoted as writing, 'increase punishment ["61\.aat~] on their own house' (praef., 1; iii, 36, 37, 41; v, 62; cf, iii, 44; vi, 83). The Historia was evidently meant to be a document of limited circulation, written to keep some enquiring orthodox monks abreast of affairs yet prefaced by a letter in which he protested the work's inadequacies, requested its quick return, and prohibited any transcription (Epist. ad Monach., i, 3). 10 It is in this remarkable epistle that one finds the first known reflections of a churchman about the pitfalls of writing history- at least the sort of polemical history such a campaigner as himself was bound to produce. 'For the writings of us babblers and private persons', as he puts it ironically, 'are not safe for those who come after' (3). In the midst of dissension he can see how the act of writing can produce still more conflict, perhaps even bring it back to life after the issues are long gone, when the Christian is enjoined to reconciliation. 'Welcome one another in agape', he is quick to go on, 'and all those coming to you in eusebeia and faith' - although in the end he is forced by the turmoil of his time and by theological partisanship towards a negative limitation: 'if anyone love not the Lord, let them be anathema' (3; cf. 1 Cor 16:22-24).n If Athanasius was sensitive about judging the ends of his theological opponents before a monastic readership, however, he has no scruples in the Historia about evaluating the deeds and fitting deaths of the Arians' secular abettors. 'H ()e{a (j{"1J does not overlook Philip the Prefect, alleged by Athanasius to be complicit with Eusebius of Nicomedia in the murderous strangulation of Paul, Bishop of Constantinople. Philip soon fell from office and died in remarkable ignominy, befitting his 'inhumanity, savage temper and impiety' (i, 7; cf. also Apol. de Fuga, 3). The same divine Justice smote Duke Balaccius, Constantius' agent of persecution at Alexandria in support of the Arian bishop Gregory. For agreeing to Gregory's request to spit upon a letter from Antony, Balaccius is bitten and hurled from his horse, later dying (Hist., ii, 14; cf. 12), an incident monks probably already knew well, for Antony's very letter evidently foretold wrath unless Balaccius desisted from his oppressions (Vit. S. Ant., 86). 12 In the Historia Athanasius himself does not hesitate to predict the untimely demise of Constantius himself, openly referring to a death coming so 'very shortly' 13 that it will leave the emperor's 'partridge-like' lackeys bereft (iii, 32; cf. LXX Jer 17:11). Athanasius may have fallen out with Constantine (see Chapter 3), yet he generally welcomed his reign (e.g., Apol. contr. Arian., i, 9; vi, 85), and wrote of his deserving a peaceful death (apud Socrates, Hist. eccles., vi, 37). Of his Arianizing son, however, nothing good could be said. The pro-Arian measures of Constantius, indeed, are from the Devil because 'swords, not persuasion and counsel, are used' over questions of divine truth (iv, 33), and Athanasius heaps derogatory epithet upon epithet

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from the Bible in a veritable anti-panegyric. Constantius is a Pharaonic tyrant, a Saul, an Ahab, more cruel than Pilate or Maximian, heralding, if not standing as, the Antichrist himself, a monarch of Sodom who receives in Athanasius' remonstrances the very opposite to Eusebian triumphalism or any 'rhetoric of [a Christian] empire'. 14 Constantius' attacks on his own kindred - the killing of his uncles, the removal of his cousins, the mistreating of his father-in-law - do not go unnoticed (viii, 69), and for this kind of lawlessness, coupled with the disorders and iniquities of his persecution, only divine condemnation can ensue. Athanasius decrees it openly: Constantius 'has given himself up to the consuming fire of future judgement' (70). At a later time Athanasius was to express a quiet relief at the passing of the pagan Julian, and could entertain hopes of a great Christian emperor to come (Narrat. ad Ammon.), but in the heat of the 350s the persecutions of the Arianizing ruler were cosmic and eschatological- a tnwyp6~ 'such as never arose before' (Hist., viii, 77). Ancient rhetors in less legally vulnerable positions were quite capable of invective - witness the Alexandrian Claudian 15 - yet Athanasius' was that of the stubborn nonconformist believing his recalcitrance would make a difference in a putatively Christian empire (cf. iii, 21). 16 And he was, after all, the victim of an uncalled-for legal vulnerability, since Constantius had abolished the old judicial formulary process in 342 and appointed imperial administrative officers, like procurators, to rule directly on procedural matters and do his bidding 17 - as if this were not enough to bring on the harassed bishop's anti-imperial accusations and projections of a new tyranny! These vehemently anti-Constantian conclusions, however, were too farreaching for either public consumption or posterity, and the monks were to read them only and take no copy. 'Publishing' the tract, in any case, meant courting death. At some time during Egypt's still more turbulent years in the late 360s, however, when the ageing Athanasius had to contend with both the apostasizing Julian and the re-Arianizing Valens, it would seem that the Historia was made ready for circulation. As all ancient manuscripts testify, someone prefixed to it two letters: one to Serapion of Thmuis, and the other the original prefatorial and inhibitory epistle to the monks. Serapion, one suspects, took the liberty of bringing these related writings together for future circulation. Perhaps it was a matter of keeping his house in order (dying c. 365, eight years before Athanasius did in 373); but as his hero's faithful suffragan (cf. Ad Serap. orat., 4) it was more likely that Serapion saw logomachic potential in Athanasius' undisclosed opinions - for shoring up orthodox defences when the theological wrangling was prolonged. 18 (Julian, after all, made no bones about both his opposition to Athanasius and a contrasting admiration for Constantius- his uncle!- while in 367 the Arian Lucius took advantage of Valens' policies and Athanasius' last exile to claim the bishopric of Alexandria. 19 ) Now it is in the important letter sent to

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Serapion himself (c. 358-359) that Athanasius lets out his private reflections about the death of Arius. He 'long debated with himself' about discussing the subject, lest it appear he was 'exulting in the death of that man' (Epist., 54, ad Serap., 1). Yet he comes to stress what an extraordinary circumstance (paradoxos) it was that Arius died while exerting his bowels in a Constantinopolitan latrine (3). Arius had sworn before the emperor Constantine that he did not hold the opinions Alexander, Bishop of Constantinople, had excommunicated him for espousing. On dismissing Arius, Constantine charged him: 'if your faith be impious, God will judge you according to your oath' (2; cf. Ad Episc. Aegypt., ii, 19), and before Arius could re-enter into communion with the orthodox, at a service to be held the following day, he fell 'headlong' and 'burst asunder', his death thus being paralleled with the awesome end of Judas (in Acts 1:18 rather than Matt 27:5) (Serap., 3). Arius may have secured support from the emperor, Athanasius recognizes, perhaps from 'all mankind', but not from the Church. 20 Alexander prayed in utter distress to be spared the forthcoming communion, offering his own death to God instead of it, and 'none other than the Lord himself' decisively intervened. Thus God 'transcended human judgements' by his own act of judgement, which, Athanasius stresses, was a total embarrassment to Eusebius of Nicomedia as well as others behind Arius, and an obvious condemnation of the Arian heresy in general (3-4). Such is what we may call 'the Athanasian temperament' in the interpretation of the past: undeviating and abrasive, zealous for the Church and the truth over State and human jurisdictions, embroiled in controversy and passionate for a cause, and thus quite unable to avoid writing prejudiced history. At least he had self-knowledge enough to voice his reticence; and that is significant. Yet what Athanasius did not want bequeathed to posterity, posterity received - in time. We do not know precisely when the Historia and its accompanying letters first came into the hands of those taking up the task of Eusebian-like ecclesiastical history. In any case, the anti-Arian sting is evident in most of Athanasius's initially published writings. We find the emperor Julian reacting to Athanasius' unceasing troublesomeness with his own reappropriations of pagan retributive logic. How can the Alexandrians remain so influenced by this controversialist for 'the Galileans', when the Egyptians should rightfully enslave and not be enslaved by the Hebrews? Only turn back to your 'ancient laws', he appealed to Alexandria's populace, 'when there was communion with the gods, and as a result we enjoyed many blessings.' 21 Julian, strangely enough, who was well equipped to identify appropriate divine punishments and historical exempla for political advantage, 22 did not himself have to put up with much historically argued Christian invective during his reign (esp. 361-363). An imperial apostate could easily have been cast as the Antichrist, of course, whom Constantius or even Arianism as

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such 23 had heralded, but Athanasius' Historia was not available for inspiration. Few clerics were as brave as Basil, once Julian's fellow-student at Athens, in accusing the emperor of exalting himself 'above all human nature' and 'insulting God's Church', and none as blatant as the blind old monk and bishop Maris of Chalcedon, who challenged him with a face-to-face curse. 24 To judge from reactions to Julian across the board, both Christian parties might seem to have 'closed their ranks before the common enemy'. 25 Actually writing about any retributions Julian and his supporters merited, on other hand, was a recognizably risky business. Gregory of Nazianzus exploded on paper with intemperate evocations of divine hatred, only to see the unwisdom of publicizing them; 26 while Philip Sidetes' apology against Julian, let alone Cyril of Alexandria's vitriolic Contra ]ulianum, were exercises safely post facta, appearing almost a generation after the whole anomalous apostasy- ostensibly to counter its residual effects. 27 There was great relief, indeed glorying, over Julian's unexpected death at 363,28 but soon after that most clerical attention was back to internal conflicts. Paganism still had its doughty intellectuals to contend with, of course, and perhaps it was no waste of time to pen works against Julian long after his demise. After all, the great rhetor Themistius kept on harping upon a canon of good emperors in the past in an Ausonian vein, and had implied Julian to be in that tradition. 29 One of Julian's favourites, the great rhetor Libanius (who considered the emperor's death one of those sad, surprising acts of Tyche), was quite capable of sustaining the older-style hermeneutics of events as a foil to the new Christian outlook(s). Sounding almost Athanasian, certainly nonconformist at the time, he declaims against the corruption of two governors sent by Theodosius I's administration to Antioch (where he was teaching in the 380s). Confident in his prayers to Zeus, he glories that he received dike (as a justified revenge) in both cases, when the officials who caused him trouble met their downfalls (Vita, 269-70; cf. also 160); and in more general terms he argued in a famous oration that the successes and reverses of the Roman emperors depended on their respect for or neglect of the gods (Orat., 30). 30 Such principles and confidence, however, were being constantly appropriated and directed away from Hellenistic traditionalisms towards a 'Christian understanding' (however much it was itself affected by Hellenistic preconceptions, let alone rendered problematic by the new doctrinal discord). In the cultural competition, significantly, Christian thinkers could draw on both Biblical and Graeco-Latin repositories to fuel their interpretative engines. Gregory of Nazianzus, for example, not only drew on Hellenistic resources in his rage against Julian, impugning him for impiety and tyranny, alleging he was bringing 15b6VOLa (20 [1]; 26 [1ff.]), and even in their sufferings this same providence also allowed the holy monks to triumph over violence (24 [ 11]; cf. also 36 [3]). Theodoret's temperament is closer to Socrates', but structural considerations become of significance to him whenever he has a chance to highlight clear-cut providential-looking turning-points in his narrative. Valens' persecutions are excusable, but Theodoret's account of them is divided into two

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231

parts, the first treated more generously, the second deprecated. At first Valens acts with soundness alongside the 'pious' Valentinian (iv, 7 [7]); 56 but then he is ensnared by the Arians into Dvaat{3eta (12 [1-4); 13 [1]), exiling and persecuting the orthodox (14-18). At the prospect of losing his son, however, and under Basil's influence, Valens repents, in Theodoret's account because the boy died after Arians tried to baptize him (19 [7, 9-10]). The historian has the emperor laid low with disappointment mid-reign: God prevents him from bringing suffering on Basil (with the pen breaking, his hand shaking and the paper torn) ([ 14-15]); and at this very time Athanasius dies in peace, 'rewarded with a crown' (20 [1]). But Valens, proving to be a deceiver, returns to his evil, and can now be seen as re-lighting the fire Julian had kindled. This is the fire 'the illustrious Jovian' had quenched in the meantime (24 [3]), thus further explaining why, in Theodoret's attendance to the special stages in his story, he refuses to treat Julian and Jovian within the same part of his work, opening his fifth book with the great relief of the latter's accession (iv, 27; v, 1). With Theodoret, what is more, there is no question but that Valens' death, occurring while he fought against the barbarians, should be candidly interpreted. Valens was 'fighting against God' and 'an enemy of piety' (33 [2); 34 [1]; 36 [2]), and so God 'shifted the balance' (l}om'J) in the barbarians' favour, giving the abettor of 'the Arian plague' his due punishment (.nmv1)) (36 [2); cf. 33[2]; 37[1]). Opening his fifth book on better things, Theodoret summarizes: How the Lord God is long-suffering towards those who rage against him, and chastises [xoA.a{;Et] those who abuse his patience is taught precisely by the plain deeds and bad end [cf. JrEJrovew~] in Valens' case. For the loving Lord uses mercy and justice like weights and scales [ara8.uof~ xai {;vyof~]. Whenever he sees anyone by the magnitude of his errors overthrowing the proper measure of humaneness [V.7rEQ{3aUovr:a n]~ cj>tJ..av8QWJria~ ra ~tiTQa], He prevents him from passing on to further extremes by just retribution [rfl btxalg. TlflWQig.]. (v, 1 [1])

All three authors share the concern to contrast the evils of the Arians and of Valens acting on their behalf- with the brighter day of orthodoxy's triumph, more especially under Theodosius the Great. But Socrates' veritable labouring of this difference also needs to be placed as the first great response to the Arian version of Church history, especially that of Philostorgius (who is, however, never mentioned by name by any of the Tripartite historians), as well as an answer to the 'less theologically-worrying', less Arian-looking Macedonianist Sabinus (cf., quite openly, especially Socrates, ii, 15 [8-11); iv, 22 [1)). Philostorgius, after all, evidently wrote sympathetically of Valens as the emperor who recalled Eunomius from exile and who wanted to hear his views (Hist. eccles., ix, 8), and even the (young orthodox) emperor

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Gratian is made to mourn over Valens' death (ix, 17). The story ofValens' great concern over an oracle that predicted his successor to have the letters (} and {) in his name goes back to Philostorgius, but the anxiety is presented by the neo-Arian historian as a far less serious criticism, since a certain Theodore the Syrian actually tried to seize the imperial power from Valens (ix, 5), and, besides, when Theodosius I does arise as the effective successor he is not, for Philostorgius, a welcome figure (x, 5-11). Such an orientation, in which the orthodox Gratian is even paralleled to Nero (x, 6), and the Homoousian party calumniated for killing the Alexandrian female philosopher Hypatia during Theodosius' reign (ix, 9), had to be met with a rigorous defence. And it is Socrates, we must remember, who sets the tone of the orthodox revisioning, or, as others might seek to put it more honestly, the new historiographical partisanship. 57 Socrates and his two renowned successors perhaps constitute the best example in all antiquity of authors writing history for the victors, because all three write as Christians after the collapse of paganism, and all three extol the imperial sustainers of orthodoxy after the weakening of Arianism. It is above all in their invocations of retributive justice, or the rewriting of apportioned praise and blame, that their joint standing in this kind of locus classicus is confirmed. At this point, to be sure, one needs to contemplate the datum that ideological victors are the ones powerful enough to decide who were good and who bad in the past, and to legitimate their triumph as providential. Perhaps contemporary readers who are Christian and orthodox will not find it difficult to sympathize with the providentialism and the overall moral slant of the Tripartite ecclesiastical histories; but, at least after this analysis, I hope they will do so critically, or cautiously, or with the equipment of historiographical demythologization within their grasp. In line with Rufinus' finale to 'the Eusebian project' ([Eusebius-]Rufinus, Hist. eccles., xi, 33-4), Theodosius the Great is presented as the first postConstantinian high-water mark of the Tripartite histories, although all of them, writing in the 440s, continue down to Theodosius II, who is honoured with accolades. Socrates remains true to the programmatic enunciations he made at the commencement of his fifth book - largely by dealing with 'the more ecclesiastical' and 'the more imperial' affairs in turn. After Valens, the churches remain 'disquieted' (era(Ja;e), mainly because of the Arians (v, 1 [9b]; 3; 5), yet both the emperors Gratian and Theodosius address these 'great disturbances' (ral?axa{) (10 [1]). The assassination ofGratian in the West, however, is connected with the Arian scourge (11 [4]), and the cause of the Western usurper ('tyrant') Maximus who replaces Gratian is taken up by the Eastern Arians as well (13). The greatness of Theodosius I lies in overthrowing Maximus (14), and in being able, because of a providential subjugation of barbarians, to work towards freeing the Church from dissensions and establishing a policy of toleration (10). 58 As with Rufinus, the

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culmination of Theodosius' career comes with the victory over the second Western tyrant, Eugenius, who was responsible for the strangling of the young Valentinian II, Gratian's successor in the West (25[5)). 59 This victory involved only limited bloodshed and was made possible by that 'fitting marvel' (cf. 8avf.WTO~