Plutarch and the New Testament in Their Religio-Philosophical Contexts Bridging Discourses in the World of the Early Roman Empire (Brill's Plutarch Studies, 9) 2021054355, 9789004505063, 9789004505070, 9004505067

Citation preview

Plutarch and the New Testament in Their Religio-Philosophical Contexts

Brill’s Plutarch Studies Editors Lautaro Roig Lanzillotta (University of Groningen) Delfim F. Leão (University of Coimbra)

Editorial Board Lucia Athanassaki Mark Beck Ewen L. Bowie Timothy Duff Rainer Hirsch-Luipold Judith Mossman Anastasios G. Nikolaidis Christopher Pelling Aurelio Pérez Jiménez Luc van der Stockt Frances B. Titchener Paola Volpe Cacciatore

volume 9

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/bps

Plutarch and the New Testament in Their Religio-Philosophical Contexts Bridging Discourses in the World of the Early Roman Empire

Edited by

Rainer Hirsch-Luipold

leiden | boston

The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available online at http://catalog.loc.gov lc record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2021054355

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill‑typeface. issn 2451-8328 isbn 978-90-04-50506-3 (hardback) isbn 978-90-04-50507-0 (e-book) Copyright 2022 by Rainer Hirsch-Luipold. Published by Koninklijke Brill nv, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill nv incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Hotei, Brill Schöningh, Brill Fink, Brill mentis, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, Böhlau Verlag and V&R Unipress. Koninklijke Brill nv reserves the right to protect this publication against unauthorized use. Requests for re-use and/or translations must be addressed to Koninklijke Brill nv via brill.com or copyright.com. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

To two eminent scholars, teachers, and bridge-builders, at the occasion of their 90th birthday Hans Dieter Betz Herwig Görgemanns

∵

Contents Introduction 1 Rainer Hirsch-Luipold

part 1 Plutarch and the New Testament Revisited 1

Plutarch and the New Testament: History, Challenges and Perspectives 11 Rainer Hirsch-Luipold

2

Why Compare Plutarch and the New Testament? The Betz Project and the Form, Function and Limitations of Greco-Roman Parallel Collections 49 David E. Aune

3

Plutarch’s Monotheism and the New Testament Frederick E. Brenk

66

part 2 Plutarch, Philo and the New Testament 4

“God Is the Measure of All Things”: Plutarch and Philo on the Benefits of Religious Worship 87 Zlatko Pleše

5

When East and West Meet: Eastern Religions and Western Philosophy in Philo of Alexandria and Plutarch of Chaeronea 109 Gregory E. Sterling

6

Philautia, Self-Knowledge, and Oikeiôsis in Philo of Alexandria and Plutarch 125 Gretchen Reydams-Schils

viii

contents

7

The Relation between Anthropology and Love Ethics in John against the Backdrop of Plutarchan and Philonic Ideas 141 Athanasios Despotis

8

The Mechanics of Death: Philo’s and Plutarch’s Views on Human Death as a Backdrop for Paul’s Eschatology 162 Julian Elschenbroich

part 3 Plutarch, the New Testament and the Church Fathers 9

The Logos in Amelius’ Fragment on the Gospel of John and Plutarch’s De Iside 177 Ilinca Tanaseanu-Doebler

10

Plutarch’s Reception in the Church Fathers Georgiana Huian

11

Plutarch of Chaeronea, Clement of Alexandria and the Bio- and Technomorphic Aspects of Creation 237 Lautaro Roig Lanzillotta Index Locorum 255 Index Rerum 266

212

Introduction Rainer Hirsch-Luipold

When a group of American and European scholars convened at Claremont University in 1970, they reached the decision that they should launch a project to investigate the theological writings of Plutarch under the auspices of the Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti. In the preface to the first volume that was published as a result of this ground-breaking project, Hans-Dieter Betz wrote: “It may not be as obvious to everyone as it was to the group why of all the important authors of the Hellenistic literature, Plutarch was the choice.”1 Indeed, there are other candidates. Many of them have been treated in the context of the CHNT in subsequent decades. And yet, Plutarch proved to be a particularly felicitous choice—for reasons discussed in the various articles of this volume—and he has remained the first choice when it comes to discussing the pagan-religious and philosophical context of emerging Christianity.2 This volume grew out of the work of the Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti group of the Society of Biblical Literature, which is still devoted to the legacy of its founder and spiritus rector Hans Dieter Betz—to whom this volume is dedicated together with Herwig Görgemanns, who, as a classicist specialising in the Platonic tradition from Plato to Origen and a founder and continuing member of the Heidelberg “Kirchenväter-Kolloquium.” Both have made dia-

1 H.D. Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Theological Writings and Early Christian Literature (Leiden: Brill, 1975) vii. 2 The importance of Plutarch seemed obvious to J. Whittaker for historical reasons (J. Whittaker, “Plutarch, Platonism and Christianity,” in H.J. Blumenthal & R.A. Markus (eds.), Neoplatonism and Early Christian Thought: Essays in Honour of A.H. Armstrong [London: Variorum, 1981] 50–63, [50]): “The lifetime of Plutarch, falling within the later first and early second century after Christ, coincides with one of the most crucial moments in the history of human thought, in that it was precisely during the lifetime of Plutarch that the new religion of Christianity came into contact with the old and well-established world of Greek philosophy. Thus, the writings of Plutarch and his contemporaries, in so far as these writings have survived, permit us to assess the intellectual state of the Graeco-Roman world at the exact moment of contact.” As F. Brenk has shown, this is not the whole story, because Judaism had already long ago established that contact and Christianity is in fact an heir to that tradition (cf. F.E. Brenk, “Plutarch, Judaism and Christianity,” in M. Joyal [ed.], Studies in Plato and the Platonic Tradition: Essays Presented to John Whittaker [Aldershot: Ashgate, 1997] 97–117). This is the historical reason why Philo of Alexandria has to figure so prominently in this volume. But Plutarch is a particularly valuable author due to his religious-philosophical interest in Judaism, as well as in other traditions of the East.

© Rainer Hirsch-Luipold, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004505070_002

2

hirsch-luipold

logue across disciplines a habit even when it was not yet fashionable. Forty years after the initial project, New Testament scholarship focusing on Plutarch continues to grapple with obdurate challenges which to a certain extent also confront scholarship concerning the history of religion and philosophy of Early Imperial times in general: the gaps between discourses on “Hellenism” and “Judaism” (dubbed the Judaism/Hellenism-divide by Troels Engberg-Pedersen) and the gaps between scholarship on authors regarded as “religious” and those regarded as “philosophical” (the religion/philosophy-divide). To elucidate in a meaningful way the relation of such an author as Plutarch to the New Testament is therefore an exercise in “bridging discourses.” But it is not just a matter of the modern scholarly approach to these authors and traditions; rather, the make-up of the sources themselves suggest such an approach. Each of the authors examined in such discussions takes up and handles a variety of traditions of thought and faith. Traditionally, such an approach was characterized as “syncretistic” or “eclectic,” but these labels have been recognized as problematic and new ways of conceiving the interrelation of all the moving pieces have been proposed. In an intricate way, scholars are coming to agree, the religio-philosophical discourses in Early Imperial times are textūs or στρόματα of traditions, whether consciously woven or not. This is particularly true of Plutarch, whose own oeuvre can be understood as an attempt to constantly build bridges—between Greece and Rome, between Greek, Egyptian and Jewish religions, between history, biography, and literature, philosophy, ethics and religion. The state of affairs is different when it comes to Early Christianity. Plutarch, as far as we can tell, was never involved in any direct discourse with Early Christians, let alone the New Testament writings, and yet, as we shall see, the extent to which he shares religious ideas and even terms important to authors of the New Testament is puzzling and calls for explanation and interpretation. And even on a theological level, Plutarch and the New Testament each construct another kind of bridging discourse: it is their goal to bridge the unsurmountable gap between the world of fallible and mortal humans on the one hand and the realm of the eternal God of life and love on the other. It is imperative to build bridges across discourses that are too often conducted separately in modern scholarship in order to understand and bring to full fruition the importance of a religious-philosophical author like Plutarch in the context of New Testament studies and the investigation of the history of religion and philosophy in Early Imperial times more generally. This volume hopes to contribute to this endeavor. Considering this state of affairs, the helpful “clarifications” provided by David Aune in the beginning of his essay regarding the use of the term “New

introduction

3

Testament” in the title of his essay apply as well to this collection of essays on the whole: since all separation of the writings of what was to become the New Testament from other areas of (Hellenistic-)Jewish and Early Christian literature remains arbitrary, the use of the term “New Testament” in the title reflects the point of departure of the reader’s interest, nothing more. The title merely intends to signal the importance of Plutarch for the interpreter of the New Testament, who will—at least in Europe—be less likely to expect a focus on the New Testament if the book bears the title “Early Christian Literature.” This illustrates why we have changed the title of the project from “Early Christian Literature,” the formulation used by Hans Dieter Betz, to “New Testament.” Yet, as is evidenced already by the setup of the volume (which follows the logic of the three subsequent CHNT-sessions that led to it), this importance of Plutarch for the study of the New Testament can be truly brought to the fore only if both Plutarch and the New Testament are seen and understood within the surrounding landscape of the writings of religious Platonism of a Jewish, a pagan-religious, or an early Christian hue. Three meetings of the CHNT-group at annual meetings of the SBL from 2014–2016 were devoted to the topic of this volume and they programmatically included Jewish-Hellenistic and Early Christian literature in the picture: “Plutarch and the New Testament”; “Plutarch, Philo, and the New Testament”; “Plutarch and the early Church Fathers.” A selection of the papers delivered at these meetings are being published in this volume, together with additional contributions. The current project, as will have become clear from what has been said, followed a different approach as compared to the earlier projects devoted to Plutarch and the New Testament, like the monograph of Hans Almqvist, published in 1946, or the Wettstein sourcebook. All these projects took the New Testament writings as their starting point. This changed with the two volumes edited by Betz. Methodically, Plutarch’s texts became the starting point. This methodological principal is followed in the different articles of the volume, albeit to a varying degree based on the range of academic disciplines represented by the different authors.3 The volume consists of three parts reflecting the three conferences: Part 1 “Plutarch and the New Testament Revisited” is devoted to the historical and methodological issues at hand. It begins with an introductory chapter, “Plutarch and the New Testament. History, Challenges, and Perspectives,” in which

3 Cf. Aune, in this volume, 49–62.

4

hirsch-luipold

Rainer Hirsch-Luipold tries to lay out the basic issues and to provide an overview of the most important scholarship on the questions involved. David Aune (“Why compare Plutarch and the New Testament? The Betz Project and the Form, Function and Limitations of Greco-Roman Parallel Collections”) builds the bridge to the Betz project, of which he himself was a part, and critically assesses the use and limitations of parallel collections for current research on the New Testament in its historical context. Frederick Brenk’s contribution “Plutarch’s Monotheism and the New Testament” reviews discussions concerning Plutarch’s monotheistic stance and juxtaposes it with some New Testament traditions, most notably the Gospel of John. The scholarly discussion is undergirded by a consideration of the two arguably most prevalent texts in this context, namely Plutarch’s On Isis and Osiris and On the Mysterious E-sign in Delphi. Part 2 “Plutarch, Philo and the New Testament” follows from some of the principles stated above. It establishes the important bridge between the Corpus Hellenisticum Novum Testamenti and the Corpus Judaeo-Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti,4 reflecting the growing awareness in scholarship that there are important overlaps and shared interests between the two areas, to say the least. The development of thought from which the New Testament flows can only be understood and appreciated if these traditions are not discussed separately, but in close contact, even though—as must be stated most clearly—there is no direct contact between either Plutarch and the New Testament or Plutarch and Philo. Nevertheless, Philo and Plutarch have of course been treated side by side in scholarship before. In his ground-breaking Middle Platonists,5 John Dillon treated both figures as important witnesses for Middle Platonism and its traditions, and the Neuer Ueberweg,6 after a large chapter on Middle Platonism and Neopythagoreanism, devotes two chapters to philosophy “in Hellenistic Judaism” and “in Early Christianity before Nicea” (including a short section on the New Testament by Hermut Löhr), respectively. The current volume intends to add to this discussion but goes a step further by trying to bring these traditions into actual dialogue. It turns out that the similarities (notwithstanding the marked differences) are more manifold and also deeper than previously observed, both in content and verbal assonances as well as in the use and rein-

4 On the history of the split between these two projects cf. Aune, in this volume 49–62. 5 J. Dillon, Middle Platonists: 80 B.C. to A.D.220 (rev. ed. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1996). 6 Ch. Riedweg et al. (eds.), Die Philosophie der Antike, vol. 5/3: Philosophie der Kaiserzeit und der Spätantike (GGP, Basle: Schwabe Verlag, 2018).

introduction

5

terpretation of Platonic symbols and the understanding of how we achieve knowledge, what role religious traditions play in this process, and in what sense this acquisition of knowledge leads to true life. The first three essays in this section are devoted to Plutarch and Philo. Zlatko Pleše “‘God is The Measure of All Things.’ Plutarch and Philo on the Benefits of Religious Worship,” opens the second section with a discussion of one of the most puzzling and yet crucial aspects of the religious-philosophical stance of the two Platonists: their commitment to ancestral traditions and institutionalized forms of worship despite their shared tendency to intellectualize all religious traditions. He brings out the ethical, emotional, and epoptic dimensions of religious tradition and praxis in both authors and interprets them as the heritage of religious philosophy initiated by Plato’s Laws. Continuing the discussion of the relationship between “sacred texts and traditions” and an underlying philosophical message, Gregory Sterling, “When East Meets West. Eastern Religions and Western Philosophy” revisits the concept of God or the First Cause in the two authors. Their agreement in the field of theology derives both from their shared philosophical monotheism and more broadly from their shared philosophical religion which relates all expressions of cult, be they monolatric or polylatric, back to a philosophical understanding of the one God. A third point is the idea that ancient religious traditions contain glimpses of a “common wisdom that philosophy could uncover” (117). Sterling calls it “primitive wisdom.” The discussion of self-love in both authors is the subject of a case-study provided by Gretchen Reydams-Schils “Philautia, Self-Knowledge, and Oikeiôsis in Philo of Alexandria and Plutarch.” The classical treatment of the topic was undertaken by Plato in book five of the Laws. Reydams-Schils discusses the negative consequences of self-love in the fields of epistemology and ethics as well, and also the question whether or not it is only excessive self-love that is being incriminated. She shows how both authors guide their readers from self-love to self-knowledge and she relates this in the last part of her contribution to the Stoic concept of oikeiôsis. The next two papers bring the New Testament into the picture. Athanasios Despotis, “The Relation between Anthropology and Love-Ethics in John Against the Backdrop of Plutarchan and Philonic Ideas,” analyzes Johannine concepts taken from the Gospel and the Letters of John (being born “from above”/“from God,” “being assimilated to the Son,” or “God is love”) against the backdrop of ideas expressed in Philo and Plutarch. His intention is to show aspects of cultural hybridity in John rather than any kind of dependence, most notably in the relationship between divine and human love. Julian Elschenbroich, “The Mechanics of Death. Philo’s and Plutarch’s View on Human Death as a Backdrop for Paul’s Eschatology,” carries out another case study, this time

6

hirsch-luipold

concerning visions of death in Philo and Plutarch, what they tell us about the underlying anthropologies and how they may help to illuminate Paul’s thoughts on the subject. In the third part, “Plutarch, the New Testament, and the Church Fathers” things become even more complex as we turn to the reception of Plutarch and the New Testament (and, in some cases, Philo) in the church fathers. Ilinca Tanaseanu-Döbler (“The Logos in Amelius’ Fragment on the Gospel of John and Plutarch’s De Iside”) opens this section with a particularly precious piece of this reception, namely the (pagan) Neo-Platonist Amelius’ reading of the Prologue of John. This reception cannot be understood without taking all the previous adaptations of Platonism in the direction of a religious philosophy into account, such as can be found in Plutarch’s concept of Logos in De Iside et Osiride. Tanaseanu-Döbler argues that Amelius identified John’s logos with the both the world-soul and every individual soul that derives from it. Georgiana Huian (“Plutarch’s Reception in the Church Fathers”) addresses some of the fundamental methodological issues (including that of the “veiled” Plutarch, i.e. places where Plutarchean positions are discussed under the label “Plato”) and their respective presuppositions. She tries to lay out various ways of determining Plutarch’s presence in the writings of the Church Fathers and discusses types of reception by scrutinizing some exemplary authors and writings (Basil, Gregory, John Chrysostom, Augustine, Jerome). With a particularly interesting test-case Lautaro Roig Lanzillotta (“Clement of Alexandria and the Bio- and Technomorphic Aspects of Creation”) concludes the volume. After a discussion of the reception of Plato, Tim. 28C (“maker and father”) in Middle Platonism, he concentrates on Philo, Plutarch, and Clement and their respective understandings of the passage. By including Plutarch in the analysis (unlike most of the previous scholarship on Clement’s reception of Plato), Roig Lanzillotta offers a much more nuanced picture of Clement’s dependence on Philo in the former’s interpretation of this crucial passage; that is, that Clement’s interpretation is not influenced solely by Philo, but also by Plutarch. At the end of this introduction, a few heartfelt words of thanks are in place. A number of people have lent their support for this project. I would like to thank the editors of Brill’s Plutarch Studies, Lautaro Roig Lanzillotta and Delphim Leão, for accepting the volume, and the anonymous reader for some very valuable observations and suggestions. At various stages, beginning with the SBLsessions of the Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti group, numerous colleagues have provided commentaries, criticisms, and suggestions. Most of all,

introduction

7

thanks are due to Barbara Hirsch who has tirelessly copy-edited the text and bibliography and compiled the index of ancient passages. David Staub, Julia Freidig and Andrea Zysset helped in compiling the subject index.

part 1 Plutarch and the New Testament Revisited

∵

chapter 1

Plutarch and the New Testament: History, Challenges and Perspectives Rainer Hirsch-Luipold

In this introductory essay, I will first survey the history of the question and then treat the current status quaestionis. This will lead me, secondly, to the challenges laying before us (and also the promises awaiting us), and thirdly to some ideas about how best to meet these challenges in future scholarship.

1

Some Notes on the History of Scholarship and the Status Quaestionis

1.1 The Situation in the Seventies In the early Seventies, Hans Dieter Betz had to lament the fact “that familiarity with Plutarch’s writings is at present not part of the common repertoire of the New Testament exegete or the historian of primitive Christianity.”1 Where Plutarch was read at all, he was not read for his own sake, but as a quarry for the history of religion or philosophy.2 Source criticism as the leading methodological approach had exercised a detrimental effect on the appreciation of Plutarch as a writer and thinker, labelling him ‘eclectic.’3 What made the situation worse was the divide between religion and philosophy which had been growing since the Enlightenment. Both factors blinded scholarship for what had fascinated Christian readers of Plutarch from the very beginning.

1 H.D. Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Theological Writings and Early Christian Literature (Leiden: Brill, 1975) vii. In a review of H.D. Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Ethical Writings and Early Christian Literature (Leiden: Brill, 1978), A.J. Malherbe puts it in simple words: “Plutarch deserves to be better known by the guild” ( JBL 100 [1981] 140–142). 2 The footnotes in the commentaries are thus still full of quotations from Plutarch, as are works like Der Platonismus in der Antike: Grundlagen, System, Entwicklung, a monumental project on the history and doctrines of Platonism started by H. Dörrie and later taken over by M. Baltes & Ch. Pietsch (Stuttgart: Frommann-Holzboog, 1987–). 3 Cf. L. Van der Stockt, “A Plutarchean Hypomnema on Self-love,” AJPh 120/4 (1999) 575–599 (575–577).

© Rainer Hirsch-Luipold, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004505070_003

12

hirsch-luipold

1.2

Retrospect: Plutarch’s Reception History in the Christian World up to the 19th Century: Almost a “Pagan Church Father” A mere glimpse at the enormous reception history4 of Plutarch’s oeuvre within Christianity will suffice to show how much this author—despite being a paganreligious writer, even a priest of Apollo at Delphi—was read throughout history not only as an ethical, but also as a religious author and authority. Beginning with Clement,5 Origen,6 and the Cappadocian fathers7 through Byzantine times and until the end of the eighteenth century, Plutarch enjoyed an excep-

4 The best treatment of Plutarch’s reception history remains R. Hirzel, Plutarch (Leipzig: Dieterich’sche Verlagsbuchhandlung Theodor Weicher, 1912), but cf. also the various contributions in Brill’s Companion to the Reception of Plutarch, ed. by S. Xenophontos & K. Oikonomopoulou (Leiden: Brill, 2019) as well as in Blackwell’s A Companion to Plutarch, ed. by M. Beck (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014) 529–610, and the book by M. Pade, The Reception of Plutarch’s Lives in Fifteenth-Century Italy, 2 vols (Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 2007). 5 Cf. Hirzel, Plutarch, 85; K. Ziegler, “Plutarchos von Chaironeia,”RE 21.1 (Stuttgart: Metzler, 1951) 636–962 (948); M. La Matina, “Plutarco negli autori cristiani greci,” in I. Gallo (ed.), L’eredità culturale di Plutarco dall’antichità al Rinascimento: Atti del vii Convegno plutarcheo MilanoGargnano, 28–30 maggio 1997 (Naples: D’Auria, 1998) 81–110. Plutarch, however, is lamentably absent in major works like D. Wyrwa, Die christliche Platonaneignung in den Stromateis des Clemens von Alexandrien (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 1983); C. Riedweg, Mysterienterminologie bei Platon, Philon und Klemens von Alexandrien (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 1987). 6 E. de Faye, Origène, sa vie, son œuvre, sa pensée, 3 vols. (Paris: Leroux, 1923–1928) vol. 2.99–140; T. Mikoda, “A Comparison of the Demonologies of Origen and Plutarch,” in R.J. Daly (ed.), Origeniana Quinta: Historica—Text and Method—Biblica—Philosophica—Theologica—Origenism and Later Developments. Papers of the 5th International Origen Congress (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1992) 326–332; F.E. Brenk, “Plutarch: Philosophy, Religion and Ethics,” in D.S. Richter & W.A. Johson (eds.), Oxford Handbook to the Second Sophistic (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017) 291–309. Typically, in this handbook Plutarch figures under “Literature and Culture” while E.S. Gruen’s treatment of Philo and other Jewish authors in the same volume is categorized “Religion and Religious Authors” (639–653), and under “Philosophy and philosophers” we find a curious entry “Platonism” by R.C. Fowler (563–580) in which Plutarch figures as the founder of Platonism but is only characterized in a few paragraphes as the one who “was known by later Platonist to have upheld a literal approach to interpreting Plato” (564). For a fierce criticism of the lack of coherence in the volume on the whole cf. M. Korenjak’s review of the volume in BMCR (2018.07.09). 7 See G. Huian, “Plutarch’s Reception in the Church Fathers,” in this volume, 212–236, but also E. de Faye, “La christologie des pères apologètes grecs et la philosophie religieuse de Plutarque,” in École pratique des hautes études, Section des sciences religieuses, Rapport sommaire sur les conférences de l’ exercice 1905–1906 et le programme des conférences pour l’exercice 1906–1907 (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1905) 1–17. For a rather critical assessment, however, compare the different contributions by G. Roskam (most recently “Plutarch’s Theonomous Ethics and Christianity: A Few Thoughts on a Much-Discussed Problem,” in R. Hirsch-Luipold & L. Roig Lanzillotta (eds.), Plutarch’s Religious Landscapes (Leiden: Brill, 2021) 84–114).

plutarch and the new testament

13

tional esteem among Christian authors and readers.8 At times he even appeared as a kind of a pagan Greek ‘Church father,’ just like Seneca in the Latin West. Plutarch’s religiously inspired ethical philosophy, his humane disposition, his high regard of women, marriage and love,9 and his personal piety as expressed in his writings has fascinated and inspired Christian readers. In the fifth century, the Syrian bishop Theodoretus believed that the Chaironean must have read the Gospels.10 In the eleventh century, the Byzantine metropolitan of Euchaita John Mauropus prayed that Christ might save Plato and Plutarch from perdition, whose lives “in word and character adhere closely to Thy laws.”11 Byzantine iconography has included Plutarch in the ‘Tree of Jesse,’ the symbolic ‘family tree’ of Jesus in Orthodox churches (e.g., in the Moscow Kremlin) until today,12 among the Old Testament prophets and Greek authors like Plato or Homer. In the seventeenth century, the biographer functioned as the literary model for the nuns at Port-Royal in France, the monastery where Jean Baptiste Racine and Blaise Pascal lived as ‘solitaires,’ when their abbess JacquelineMarie-Angélique Arnauld (1591–1661 in Port-Royal-des-Champs)13 asked them to write their own spiritual autobiographies.14 Autobiographies of nuns being a rather unusual genre, this shows how much Plutarch’s works were read as ethical and indeed religious instruction and inspiration. In the early nineteenth century, the monster in Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein (1818) receives as the fundamental education of any human (or humanoid) being Milton’s Paradise Lost, Goethe’s Die Leiden des jungen Werther, and Plutarch’s Lives. And finally, as an existential witness of the enduring appreciation in the darkest years of the twentieth century: when Dietrich Bonhoeffer was taken to the concentration camp Flossenbürg to await his execution, Plutarch’s Great Greeks and Romans were amongst his last companions. The task ahead therefore is to rediscover arguably the most prominent or at least the most widely read, edited, and translated pagan Greek author in the

8

9 10 11 12

13 14

For the role of Plutarch’s religious philosophy in the history of Platonism cf. C.J. de Vogel, Greek Philosophy: A collection of texts with notes and explanations, 3 vols, vol. 3 (Leiden: Brill, 1959). H. Görgemanns, Plutarch: Dialog über die Liebe (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011). Theod., Gr. Aff. Cur. 2.87. Joh. Maurop., Epigr. 43. Cf. F.J. Thomson, “The Distorted Mediaeval Russian Perception of Classical Antiquity,” in A. Welkenhuysen et al. (eds.), Mediaeval Antiquity (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1995) 303–364 (335). The Abbey of Port-Royal became a center of Jansenism under her abbacy. “Vies intéressantes et édifiantes”, cf. M.A. Schimmelpenninck, Select Memoirs of Port Royal, vol. 1 (London: J and A Arch, 1829 & Philadelphia: Henry Longstreth, 1858, 5th ed.).

14

hirsch-luipold

history of Christianity and to make his vast oeuvre accessible in such a way that it can be fruitfully used by New Testament scholars in their endeavour to better understand the religious world in which the authors of the New Testament lived and expressed their thoughts. 1.3

Renewed Interest in Plutarch as a Religious Thinker since the Seventies: The Work of H.D. Betz and Others Already in 1946, Hans Almqvist published his Plutarch und das Neue Testament. Ein Beitrag zum Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti. The work was intended as a “Vorarbeit zum Neuen Wettstein”:15 collecting, categorizing and commenting on parallels to the New Testament. The assumption is that “as a true Greek, Plutarch intellectually lived in a world very different from that of the New Testament authors.” Almqvist therefore stresses the differences, “even though Plutarch was a decidedly religious character.”16 According to his judgment, the parallels of Plutarch are much less significant for New Testament studies than those of Philo or the later Stoa. What can be gained from reading Plutarch is therefore a loose collection of individual observations rather than a coherent picture. This accords with the view of Plutarch as a “collector, excerptor, and editor” rather than an original author. Accordingly, it is not the intention of his book to “advance scholarship on Plutarch.” These, as we will see, typical but rather problematic assumptions determine the outcome of his enterprise. Since the 1970s, the study of Plutarch’s enormous oeuvre has boomed under the auspices of the International Plutarch Society, with major developments in the analysis of his literary and philosophical technique and mindset.17 At the same time, the religious aspects of Plutarch’s works came more into focus due to the seminal work of Hans-Dieter Betz, his successor Hans-Josef Klauck,18 Frederick

15

16 17

18

H. Almqvist, Plutarch und das Neue Testament: Ein Beitrag zum Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti (Uppsala: Appelbergs Boktryckeri/Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1946) 1. Cf. also Aune, in this volume 49–65. Almqvist, Plutarch und Das Neue Testament, 2. Of great importance for New Testament studies are, for example, the publications of the long-term project at the university of Leuven under the supervision of L. Van der Stockt on Hypomnemata, which has produced a range of articles on single hympomnemata, but regrettably has not yet resulted in a much-awaited monograph which would surely shed some new light on how literary texts on specific topics were being produced from prefabricated notes. H.-J. Klauck, Plutarch von Chaironeia: Moralphilosophische Schriften, ausgew., übers. u. hrsg. v. H.-J. Klauck, (Stuttgart: Reclam, 1997); id., “Ein Mittelplatoniker: Plutarch von Chaironeia,” in id., Die religiöse Umwelt des Urchristentums ii: Herrscher- und Kaiserkult,

plutarch and the new testament

15

Brenk19 and some others.20 In the two volumes published in 1975 and 1978, Betz and his team studied a range of theological, philosophical, and ethical writings of Plutarch, opening them up for further research.21 Several articles, monographs and collective volumes on religion and theology in Plutarch have since been published relating different aspects of Plutarch’s oeuvre to the writings of

19

20

21

Philosophie, Gnosis (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1996) 124–142; id., “Mittelplatonismus und Neues Testament: Plutarch von Chaironeia über Aberglaube, Dämonenfurcht und göttliche Vergeltung,” in id. (ed.), Alte Welt und neuer Glaube: Beiträge zur Religionsgeschichte, Forschungsgeschichte und Theologie des Neuen Testaments (Fribourg: Universitätsverlag & Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1994) 59–81; id., “Brotherly Love in Plutarch and in 4 Maccabees,” in D.L. Balch et al. (eds.), Greeks, Romans and Christians: Essays in Honour of Abraham J. Malherbe (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990) 144–156. See especially his two magisterial studies on religious aspects in Plutarch: F.E. Brenk, In Mist Apparelled: Religious Themes in Plutarch’s Moralia and Lives (Leiden: Brill, 1977); id., “An Imperial Heritage: The Religious Spirit of Plutarch of Chaironeia,” ANRW 2.36.1 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1987) 248–349 (repr. in F.E. Brenk, Plutarch, Religious Thinker and Biographer, ed. by L. Roig Lanzillotta & L. Lesage Garriaga [Brill’s Plutarch Studies 1, Leiden: Brill 2017]). In addition, Brenk has published a whole range of articles, lately on the question of monotheism in Plutarch’s work, some of which have been included in his collective volumes. A lot of the work has been done in the context of the very lively International Plutarch Society. Several of their meetings have been devoted to different aspects of religion in Plutarch: I. Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la religione: Atti del vi Convegno plutarcheo Ravello 1995 (Naples: M. D’Auria, 1996); M. García Valdes (ed.), Estudios sobre Plutarco: Ideas Religiosas. Actas del iii Simposio International sobre Plutarco (Madrid: Ediciones Clásicas, 1994); R. Hirsch-Luipold (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch: Götterbilder—Gottesbilder— Weltbilder (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2005); L. Van der Stockt et al. (eds.), Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths and History of Religions in Plutarch’s Works: Studies Devoted to Professor Frederick E. Brenk by the International Plutarch Society (Logan/Málaga: Utah State University, 2010); L. Roig Lanzillotta & I. Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse of Late Antiquity (Leiden: Brill, 2012). For book-length studies of different aspects of religious tradition in Plutarch, see—apart from the already mentioned studies of F.E. Brenk—R. Hirsch-Luipold, Plutarchs Denken in Bildern: Studien zur literarischen, philosophischen und religiösen Funktion des Bildhaften (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002); P. Van Nuffelen, Rethinking the Gods: Philosophical Readings of Religion in the Post-Hellenistic Period Greek (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011) esp. 48–71, 157–175. For theological writings, they selected De superstitione, De Iside et Osiride, De E apud Delphos, De Pythiae oraculis, De defectu oraculorum, De sera numinis vindicta, De genio Socratis, De facie in orbe lunae, De esu carnium, and some fragments. For ethical writings, they selected De profectionibus in virtute; De tuenda sanitate praecepta, Septem Sapientium convivium, Mulierum virtutes, De virtute morali, De cohibenda ira, De tranquillitate animi, De fraterno amore, De garrulitate, De cupiditate divitiarum, De invidia et odio, De laude ipsius, Consolatio ad uxorem, Amatorius. This ground-breaking project is discussed in more detail by David E. Aune, in this volume, 56–58.

16

hirsch-luipold

the New Testament and early Christian literature (not just the Synoptics, but also Johannine Literature, Paul and the Pastoral Epistles, Hebrews).22 In recent years, Plutarch’s religious thought has played a central role in discussions of ‘pagan monotheism.’

2

Overview of Themes, Texts and Topics Treated in Recent Years

Due to the enormous scope of the subjects treated in Plutarch’s works, ranging from philosophy, history and biography to mathematics, from medicine to animal psychology, from the face of the moon to the destiny of souls in the afterlife, Plutarch can be used for comparison and as a historical backdrop in all sorts of contexts. In what follows, I will give an overview of some dimensions of Plutarch’s work which have been previously discussed in New Testament scholarship regarding the religious and philosophical side of his oeuvre,23 even if it will not be possible to go into the respective contributions and topics in great detail. But I hope to convey an impression of the manifold perspectives in which Plutarch’s oeuvre has been used and is being used. 2.1 Plutarch, the Moral Philosopher Moral aspects of Plutarch’s oeuvre have always been a main focus wherever the religious side of his work has been discussed.24 Already in John Oakesmith’s The Religion of Plutarch, written in 1902, the preoccupation with ethics is obvious.25

22

23 24

25

See the bibliography on http://www.plutarch.unibe.ch. One monograph, however, needs to be singled out: W. Eisele, Ein unerschütterliches Reich: Die mittelplatonische Umformung des Parusiegedankens im Hebräerbrief (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2003). In his discussion of “Middle Platonic” sources, Eisele devotes an entire chapter to various aspects of Plutarch’s “Middle Platonic” theological cosmos: protology, including the questions of the ἀρχαί, daemonology including Ammonius’ speech in De E, the Platonic myths and Plutarch’s ideas about the relationship of discursive and mythical language. Even though I have some reservations regarding the details, this is exactly how a comparison of Plutarch’s (and Philo’s) thought and work with New Testament texts has to be carried out to be fruitful. I will here only mention but not discuss in any detail the older literature on religion in Plutarch. See Betz, Ethical Writings, passim, and Roskam, “Plutarch’s Theonomous Ethics.” The moral side of Plutarch’s though was treated comprehensively by Lieve Van Hoof, Plutarch’s Practical Ethics: The Social Dynamics of Philosophy (Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 2010). J. Oakesmith, The Religion of Plutarch: A Pagan Creed of Apostolic Times (London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1902).

plutarch and the new testament

17

Indeed, Plutarch’s discussions on brotherly love,26 love of offspring, passions,27 and vices like greed, talkativeness, curiosity, self-praise and so on, naturally offer themselves for comparison. Plutarch’s ethical statements on marriage, family, love, and the role of women28 in Advices for Marriage have recently been compared to Pauline literature,29 his essay on self-praise to 2 Corinthians,30 some of his Table Talks to issues of leadership, seating and communal beaviour generally addressed in the letter of James.31 In the wake of Abraham Malherbe’s groundbreaking work, Plutarch has variously been treated as an example of Hellenistic popular philosophy.32 2.2 Plutarch, the Historian of Religion Plutarch, as is well-known, treats all kinds of different religious traditions in the Moralia as well as in the Lives—from Greece and Rome to Egypt, Persia, and India. He also devoted two of his Table Talks to aspects of the Jewish tradition, namely the concept of God and dietary laws (Quaest. conv. iv.5–6, 669B– 672C).33

26 27 28

29

30 31 32

33

Klauck, “Brotherly Love.” B. Fiore, “Passion in Paul and Plutarch: 1 Corinthians 5–6 and the Polemic against Epicureans,” in Balch et al. (eds.), Greeks, Romans, and Christians, 135–143. F.E. Brenk, “Most Beautiful and Divine: Graeco-Romans (especially Plutarch) and Paul, on Love and Marriage,” in D.E. Aune & id. (eds.), Greco-Roman Culture and the New Testament: Studies Commemorating the Centennial of the Pontificial Biblical Institute (Leiden: Brill 2012) 87–111; G.W. Peterman, “Marriage and Sexual Fidelity in the Papyri, Plutarch and Paul,” Tyndale Bulletin 50 (1999) 163–172; S. Zedda, “Spiritualità cristiana e saggezza pagana nell’etica della famiglia: Affinità e differenze tra San Paolo e i Coniugalia Praecepta di Plutarco,” Lateranum 48 (1982) 110–124. M. Becker, “Ehe als Sanatorium: Plutarchs Coniugalia Praecepta und die Pastoralbriefe,” NT 52 (2010) 241–266; J.W. Thompson, “Paul, Plutarch and the Ethic of the Family,” Restoration Quarterly 52 (2010) 223–226; Brenk, “Most Beautiful and Divine.” M. Wojciechowski, “Paul and Plutarch on Boasting,” Journal of Greco-Roman Christianity and Judaism 3 (2006) 99–109. D.J. Verseput, “Plutarch of Chaeronea and the Epistle of James on Communal Behaviour,” NTS 47 (2001) 502–518. A volume edited not too long ago on Paul and the Greco-Roman Philosophical Tradition, edited by J.R. Dodson & A.W. Pitts (London: Bloomsbury, 2017) shows that there is still a long way to go: the volume mentions Plutarch exactly twice (apart from passages quoted in footnotes): in the introduction with a reference to Betz’ work (2) and once in a reference to Brenk’s work (208). Brenk himself has indeed used Plutarch as a dialogue partner for Paul’s philosophical thought: F.E. Brenk, “ ‘We Are of His Race’: Paul and the Philosophy of His Time,” in id., With Unperfumed Voice: Studies in Plutarch, in Greek Literature, Religion and Philosophy, and in the New Testament Background (Potsdamer Altertumswissenschaftliche Beiträge 21, Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 2007) 402–433. Cf. M. Stern, Greek and Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism, vol. ii (Jerusalem: Israel

18

hirsch-luipold

Especially rich is Plutarch’s treatise On Isis and Osiris (De Iside et Osiride), which offers the fullest extant treatment of Egyptian mythology, but also treats rituals, cult and imagery. All these aspects have been studied by Egyptologists, philologists and historians of religion34 and deserve more reflection by New Testament scholars. Following the lead of Betz,35 exegetes of the New Testament have in recent years discovered further fascinating aspects which offer themselves for comparison, namely Plutarch’s use of imagery,36 the role of the divine Logos (Osiris) in the generation of the world, and Plutarch’s methodological reflections on the philosophical and hermeneutical implications regarding the recognizability of the divine from within the corporeal world.37 Plutarch uses a kind of pictorial interpretation of traditional religion that resembles Jewish and Christian use of imagery. Moreover, his theory of religious imagery leads him to a critique of Greek worship of chryselephantine statues (as dead material), which surprisingly resembles the critique offered by the prophets of the Old Testament. The ontological idea that the divine Logos (Osiris) is stamped on the material world and the epistomological conclusion that can

34

35

36

37

Academy of Science & Humanities, 1980) 550–562; L.H. Feldman, “The Jews as Viewed by Plutarch,” in Studies in Hellenistic Judaism (Leiden: Brill, 1996) 529–552; R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Plutarch,” in L.T. Stuckenbruck & D.M. Gurtner (eds.), T&T Clark Encyclopedia of Second Temple Judaism, vol. ii (London/New York: T&T Clark, 2017) 614–616. J. Hani, La religion égyptienne dans la pensée de Plutarque, (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1976); J.G. Griffiths, Plutarch’s De Iside et Osiride: Edited with an Introduction, Translation, and Commentary (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1970); see now also M. Erler & M.A. Stadler, Platonismus und spätägyptische Religion: Plutarch und die Ägyptenrezeption in der römischen Kaiserzeit (Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter, 2019). H.D. Betz devoted two articles to the treatise from a religio-historical perspective: H.D. Betz, “Ein seltsames mysterientheologisches System bei Plutarch,” in id., Hellenismus und Urchristentum: Gesammelte Aufsätze i (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1990) 112–119; id., “Observations on some Gnosticizing Passages in Plutarch,” in id., Hellenismus und Urchristentum, 135–146. In the latter article, Betz concentrates on De latenter vivendo, the fragmentary “On the soul” and the speech of Plutarch’s teacher Ammonius in De E apud Delphos. What Betz called Gnosticising roughly 30 years ago, I would prefer to call religious-philosophical. The issue, in my view, is not Plutarch’s relationship to a Gnostic system (as Betz argues in his “Nachtrag” on p. 146), but rather the relationship between religion and philosophy. The myth of Timarchos from Plutarch’s De genio Socratis is discussed prominently in “The Problem of Apocalyptic Gere in Greek and Hellenistic Literature. The Case of the Oracle of Tryphonius,” in id., Hellenismus und Urchristentum, 184–208. Hirsch-Luipold, Denken in Bildern, esp. 174–224, 288–289; H. Attridge, “The Cubist Principle in Johannine Imagery: John and the Reading of Images in Contemporary Platonism,” in id., Essays on John and Hebrews (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2010) 79–91. Cf. R. Hirsch-Luipold, “ὕλη θεολογίας: Religious Lore as Inter‘text’ in Plutarch’s Moralia,” in Th. Schmidt et al. (eds.), The Dynamics of Intertextuality in Plutarch (Leiden: Brill, 2020) 525–538.

plutarch and the new testament

19

be reconstructed from what is visible of him within the corporeal sphere38 is as fascinating as Reinhard Feldmeier’s conclusion that Osiris, the Egyptian god of the dead, is in Plutarch’s view to be interpreted as the living and life-giving God.39 As for the Lives, some have naturally been more in the focus of New Testament studies in terms of the history of religion than others:40 Numa, for instance, because of the mythical king’s legislation regarding aniconic worship of God and also because of Plutarch’s discussions of Numa’s empty tomb;41 Alexander because of the birth narrative and the discussion of Alexander’s being the Son of God/Zeus/Amun-Re; but also Caesar,42 Cato minor, Galba and Otho.43 2.3 Plutarch, the Philosopher of Religion and Theologian But Plutarch is not just interested in the history of religion. This is, I would contend, not even his primary concern. Rather, he believes that all religious traditions lead towards the truth and ultimately towards God. Jean Sirinelli saw a

38 39 40

41

42

43

Hirsch-Luipold, “ὕλη θεολογίας,” 535 f. Cf. also I. Tanaseanu-Döbler, in this volume, 177–211. Attridge, “Cubist Principle;” R. Feldmeier, “Osiris: Der Gott der Toten als Gott des Lebens. De Iside Kap. 76–78,” in Hirsch-Luipold (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch, 215–227. For a comparison of Plutarch’s lives as a genre with the Gospels, cf. M. Reiser, Vier Portraits Jesu: Die Anfänge der Evangelien gelesen mit den Augen Plutarchs (Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2019); M.R. Licona, Why Are There Differences in the Gospels? What We Can Learn from Ancient Biography (New York: Oxford University Press, 2017) 23–110; R. Burridge, What are the Gospels? A Comparison with Graeco-Roman Biography (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2018, 3rd ed.); D. Wördemann, Das Charakterbild im Bios nach Plutarch und das Christusbild im Evangelium nach Markus (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 2002). H.D. Betz, “Plutarch über das leere Grab des Numa Pompilius,” in J. Frey et al. (eds.), Heil und Geschichte: Die Geschichtsbezogenheit des Heils und das Problem der Heilsgeschichte in der biblischen Tradition und in der theologischen Deutung (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009) 263–284; id., “Plutarchs Life of Numa: Some Observations on Graeco-Roman ‘Messianism,’ ” in id., Paulinische Theologie und Religionsgeschichte: Gesammelte Aufsätze v (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009) 166–190; id., “Credibility and Credulity in Plutarch’s ‘Life of Numa Pompilius,’ ” in D.E. Aune (ed.), Reading Religions in the Ancient World: Essays Presented to Robert McQueen Grant on his 90th Birthday (Leiden: Brill, 2007) 39–55; G. van Kooten, “Pagan and Jewish Monotheism According to Varro, Plutarch, and St Paul: The Aniconic, Monotheistic Beginnings of Rome’s Pagan Cult—Romans 1:19–25 in a Roman Context,” in A. Hilhorst et al. (eds.), Flores Florentino: Dead Sea Scrolls and other Early Jewish Studies in Honour of Florentino Garcia Martinez (Leiden: Brill, 2007) 631–651. D. Dormeyer, “Plutarchs Cäsar und die erste Evangeliumsbiographie des Markus,” in R. von Haehling (ed.), Rom und das himmlische Jerusalem: Die frühen Christen zwischen Anpassung und Ablehnung (Darmstadt: wbg Academic, 2000) 29–52. M.-C. Holzbach, Plutarch: Galba-Otho und die Apostelgeschichte. Ein Gattungsvergleich (Berlin: LIT Verlag, 2006). A lot of this reserch was done by D. Dormeyer and his students.

20

hirsch-luipold

development towards the more theological writings at the end of his life (the Pythian dialogues and De Iside et Osiride).44 Indeed, the writings usually considered to be late are more openly concerned with theological issues. On the other hand: his De superstitione (On Excessive Fear of the Gods),45 is already concerned with issues of religion and theology. Frederik Brenk takes it as his hermeneutical starting point in his In Mist Apparelled46 interpreting it as a critique of religion. From this perspective, there is an apparent conflict with Plutarch’s later writings on religion. But, as argued by Michael Theobald,47 the treatise aims at a critique of a misguided understanding of religious traditions and praxis rather than a critique of religion tout court. The core of the matter is an inadequate fear of God or the gods. The discussion of unhealthy and theologically problematic religious fear is where Theobald makes the connection to Paul’s Letter to the Romans and the First Letter of John. Theobald begins with the observation that φόβος is used in both Rom 8:15 and 1 Joh 4:17–18 not in the positive sense of the Septuagint (“fear of God”), but in the sense of a destructive fear, identifying this topic as an underlying strand in Plutarch’s treatise. Notable, however, is the explicitly theological note which complements the ethical and even political one: yes, an excessive, superstitious fear of the gods can be detrimental to the life and happiness of an individual as well as that of the society and nation, but Plutarch also objects to δεισιδαιμονία on theological grounds: religious fear betrays a false understanding of God. In a similar way, Plutarch’s critique of other philosophical schools, most prominently Stoicism, arises in the field of theology.48 Plutarch agrees with the Stoics in a wide range of aspects and is happy to borrow their language

44 45

46

47

48

J. Sirinelli, Plutarque de Chéronée (Paris: Fayard, 2000) 405–442 (esp. 405–411). A.J. Malherbe, “The Cultural Context of the New Testament: The Greco-Roman World,” in C.R. Holladay et al. (eds.), Light from the Gentiles: Hellenistic Philosophy and Early Christianity. Collected Essays by A.J. Malherbe, 2 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 2014) 2.751–778 (771–772), takes it to be Pseudo-Plutarchean. Also H. Braun, “Plutarchs Kritik am Aberglauben im Lichte des Neuen Testaments,” in id., Gesammelte Studien zum Neuen Testament und seiner Umwelt (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1971, 3rd ed.) 120–135, followed later by Klauck “Mittelplatonismus und Neues Testament”; R. Charles, “Paul and Plutarch on Religion,” EC 8/2 (2017) 199–217; Burkert, Plutarch, and many others. M. Theobald, “Angstfreie Religiosität: Röm 8,15 und 1Joh 4,17f. im Licht der Schrift Plutarchs über den Aberglauben,” in N. el Khoury (ed.), Lebendige Überlieferung: Prozesse der Annäherung und Auslegung. Festschrift für Hermann-Josef Vogt zum 60. Geburtstag (Beirut: Friedrich-Rückert-Verlag & Ostfildern: Schwaben-Verlag, 1992) 321–343. For the following cf. R. Hirsch-Luipold, “The Dividing Line: Theological/Religious Arguments in Plutarch’s Anti-Stoic Polemics,” in J. Opsomer et al. (eds.), A Versatile Gentleman: Consistency in Plutarch’s Writings (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2016) 17–36.

plutarch and the new testament

21

and thought to a large extent. He argues, however, that their strict monism and materialism leads to a misconception of the divine which in the end dissolves the gods into material entities and therefore turns out to be nothing else than a form of atheism. Plutarch’s conception of God (or the gods, or τὸ θεῖον49) has been discussed in various publications,50 but a lot of work remains to be done.51 2.4

In the Precinct of Apollo: Plutarch, the Priest at Delphi (Divination, Inspiration, and the Contact of God with the Corporeal Realm)52 In addition to the interest in a metaphysical theology, practiced religion plays a significant role in Plutarch’s life and writing.53 He served as a priest at the Oracle of Apollo at Delphi for many years towards the end of his life. This position had a strong impact on his thought and writing—and maybe also the other way around: the appointment manifested a religious interest he had had all along (inherited perhaps from his teacher Ammonius). In any case, the philosopher discusses matters related to the oracle and raises all sorts of interesting theological questions regarding divination, the contact between God and the world, daemonology and the like in the Pythian dialogues, De genio Socratis, and elsewhere, some of which have been picked up in exegetical studies:54 49 50

51 52

53 54

Plutarch uses the terminology interchangeably. Already Oakesmith, The Religion of Plutarch; B. Latzarus, Les idées religieuses de Plutarque (Paris: Leroux, 1920); R. Flacelière, “Introduction générale,” in id. et al. (eds.), Plutarque: OEuvres morales, vol. i.1 (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1987) vii–ccxxvi, here clxi–cc (Le théologien); de Faye, Origène, is too easily overlooked. More recently W. Burkert, “Plutarch: Gelebte Religion und philosophische Theologie,” in T.A. Szlezák & K.-H. Stanzel (eds.), W. Burkert, Kleine Schriften viii. Philosophica (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 2008) 222–239; E. Valgiglio, Divinità e religione in Plutarco (Genoa: Compagnia dei Librai, 1988); F. Ferrari, Dio, idee e materia: La struttura del cosmo in Plutarco di Cheronea (Naples: M. D’Auria, 1995); id., “Der Gott Plutarchs und der Gott Platons,” in Hirsch-Luipold (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch, 13–25; R. Feldmeier, “Philosoph und Priester: Plutarch als Theologe,” in id., Der Höchste (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014) 49–60; Hirsch-Luipold, Denken in Bildern, 159–281; Van Nuffelen, Rethinking the Gods, 48–71.157–175. This will be outlined below 30–34. Vgl. R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Priester, Philosoph, Propagandist—Plutarch und Delphi,” in B. Bäbler & H.-G. Nesselrath (eds.), Delphi: Apollons Orakel in der Welt der Antike (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2021) 397–-412. On the role of religious tradition and practice in Plutarch’s philosophy, cf. Z. Pleše, “Plutarch and Philo on the Philosophical Value of Religious Worship,” in this volume, 87–108. T. Callan, “Prophecy and Ecstasy in Graeco-Roman Religion and in 1Corinthians,” NT 27 (1985) 125–140; H. Gunkel et al., “Plutarch and Pentecost: An Exploration in Interdisciplinary Collaboration,” in J. Frey & J.R. Levison (eds.), The Holy Spirit, Inspiration, and the Cultures of Antiquity. Multidisciplinary Perspectives (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2014) 63–94.

22

hirsch-luipold

how do divination and inspiration actually work? And why has oracular activity declined? The driving force behind Plutarch’s discussion of these topics is again theological: how does the transcendent divine relate to the world and human beings? How does God exercise his providence and lead philosophical minds towards himself as the truth? How does communication through signs and other means between the divine sphere and the physical world work? (Here, intermediate categories relating God to the world like daemons, oracles, signs, symbols, pneuma, among others play an important part.) There is a lot to gain for the theologian and the exegete of the New Testament by looking at how a contemporary religio-philosophical thinker elaborates on these issues. One caution, however, is called for here: while there are several areas of fruitful and enlightening comparison, the challenge lies in the fact that the terminology used may not always correspond to that of the New Testament, and, conversely, the same terminology does not necessarily imply the same concept.55 But there is a second, more tangible point about Delphi: as a philosophical teacher with strongly ethical ideals, the priest of Apollo—quite literally— situates his philosophical teaching activity in the sanctuary of the god in Delphi. In the Pythian dialogues, the philosophical discussions are carried out in the precinct of Apollo and on the steps of the temple.56 This reflects a third, more biographical aspect: Plutarch presents the oracle of Apollo as the place where he conducted some of his discussions as a philosophical teacher (like already Ammonius before him, as we hear in De E apud Delphos). This is of course a literary presentation, but it need not be fictitious, even though his usual school teaching amongst a group of family members, friends, philosophers from other schools or even politicians from Rome and elsewhere took place in his home in Chaeronea.57 And even if mere literary staffage, it would underline the special importance attributed to traditional religious settings even in the field of philosophical teaching. 2.5 In School: Plutarch, the Religio-Philosophical Teacher This leads us to yet another related topic which is, strangely, neglected by New Testament scholars: namely, Plutarch as a witness in the ongoing discussion on 55 56 57

These methodological difficulties have been addressed in a co-authored article (discussing especially the problem of pneuma): Gunkel et al., “Plutarch and Pentecost.” Similarly, Plutarch’s dialogue on love, the Amatorius, takes place at the occasion of Plutarch’s marriage in the precinct of the Muses. In his introduction Betz concentrates on Plutarch as a witness “who had an unlimited access and the insider’s comprehension of the two centers of the Greek intellectual and religious life of the time, the Platonic Academy and the sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi” (Theological Writings, vii).

plutarch and the new testament

23

the nature of philosophical schools, school boundaries, and schooling in general.58 Plutarch’s works are a window into how philosophical teaching worked amongst family members and friends at his school in his hometown Chaeronea as well as in Delphi59 and in his lectures in Rome. He even talks about interschool-dialogue. As we hear in the dedication of De E apud Delphos, Plutarch sends the Pythian dialogues as a first fruit to his Stoic friend Sarapion and his school and expects to get better logoi in return. We are witnessing a philosophical conversation across school boundaries on theological topics! The imagery used here (ἀπαρχή, “first fruit”) as well as the setting in the precinct of Apollo show the religious aspect of this philosophical schooling. In contrast to what happens in early Christianity, however, Plutarch’s teaching is a rather elitist exercise. His interpretation of religion will only be understandable for highly educated minds.60 Whatever the role of traditional ritual and myth, Plutarch is the advocate of a philosophical religion. 2.6 “Prince’s Tutor”: Plutarch as Biographer Throughout history, Plutarch’s biographies were held in high esteem. In the twentieth century, he was commonly regarded as the inventor of a new genre.61 Consequently, Plutarch has become an important dialogue partner in discussions about the genre of the gospels.62 In recent years, Maren Niehoff has tried to show that Plutarch has an important predecessor in Philo of Alexandria.63 While it is a great achievement to point to this curious connection, there seems 58

59 60

61

62 63

For the following see R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Plutarch: Religiöse Philosophie als Bildung zum Leben,” in T. Georges et al. (eds.), Bedeutende Lehrerfiguren: Von Platon bis Hasan al-Banna (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015) 95–122 (esp. 105–106). T. Vegge, Paulus und das antike Schulwesen, Schule und Bildung des Paulus (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2006), discusses Plutarch’s comments on certain aspects and theories of schooling in Imperial times (esp. in his treatises on education), but does not discuss him as a witness to actual religiophilosophical schooling. If, indeed, this setting in Delphi is to be taken at face value; cf. the note of caution above under 2.4. And then again, Paul’s letters are not really easy reading either: as 2Pet 3:16 says, some of what he said “is difficult to understand” and will be misinterpreted by the ignorant and frivolous to their own detriment and that of others. Recently, the moral aspects were especially in focus: T. Duff, Plutarch’s Lives: Exploring Virtue and Vice (Oxford: Claredon Press, 2002); C. Pelling, Plutarch and History: Eighteen Studies (Swansea: Classical Press of Wales, 2002); Xenophontos & Oikonomopoulou, Companion. See note 40 above. M.R. Niehoff, “Philo and Plutarch on Homer,” in id. (ed.), Homer and the Bible in the Eyes of Ancient Interpreters (Leiden: Brill 2012) 128–153; id., “Philo and Plutarch as Biographers: Parallel Responses to Roman Stoicism,” GRBS 52 (2012) 361–392.

24

hirsch-luipold

to me a dimension to it that has not yet been duly brought out, namely the shared religious and moral grounding which makes the hero a model for certain values and conduct. Like reflections in a mirror, these exemplary lives present the model after which one can arrange one’s life (Aem. 1,1). As such, the biographies are not so much about the individuality of the hero, but rather about the moral lesson to be learned. This is also the way in which the biographies were read through the centuries as some kind of “Prinzenerzieher”. Several monographs have compared Plutarch’s Lives to the gospels in terms of genre.64 Although there are good reasons to do so, Plutarch’s pedagogical goal in composing these lives needs to be taken into consideration. As he explains in the beginning of the life of Alexander (Alex. 1), Plutarch’s intention is not to write history, but βίοι, wonderfully rendered as “Lebensbilder” by Konrat Ziegler in his translation of the lives.65 Plutarch presents models of life to be emulated by the reader (Aem. 1). We have already pointed to the amazing case of the nuns at Port-Royal in France who used the biographer as a literary model for writing edifying autobiographies.66 2.7

“Aphrodite and Lyre of All Philosophy”: Plutarch’s Use of Imagery and His Ontology of Images Eunapius described the literary spell cast by Plutarch on his readers in his Vitae sophistarum by calling him the “Aphrodite and lyre of all philosophy” (Eun. 2.1.3). And already the Cappadocians and John Chrysostom used Plutarch’s pictorial style full of images and similes as an inspiration for their own preaching.67 Indeed Plutarch has developed a very individual literary style to get his ethical, philosophical and religious message across: he presents the reader with a literary philosophy full of images, symbols, metaphors, and allegories which form a unique body of religious-philosophical imagery68 to be studied in com64

65 66

67 68

Burridge, What are the Gospels?; Dormeyer, “Plutarchs Cäsar;” Holzbach, Galba-Otho; D.E. Aune, “Septem Sapientium Convivium: Moralia 146B–164D,” in Betz, Ethical Writings, 51–105: similarities between the gospels and Plutarch’s The Dinner of The Seven Wise Men lead to the conviction that “the commonly accepted notion that the canonical Gospels were an entirely new and unique literary form developed by early Christianity in late antiquity stands in need of reassessment” (63). K. Ziegler et al., Fünf Doppelbiographien, vol. 1 (Zürich/Düsseldorf: Artemis & Winkler 1994). Jacqueline-Marie-Angélique Arnauld, the abbess of Port-Royal, must have been aware of this pedagocial intention of Plutarch’s lives when she asked her nuns to write their own autobiographies. See G. Huian, “Plutarch’s Reception in the Church Fathers,” in this volume, 216–217. Cf. Hirsch-Luipold, Denken in Bildern, passim; F. Fuhrmann, Les images de Plutarque (Paris: Klincksieck, 1964); H. Schwabl, “Voller Tisch und brennende Lampe: Symbole der Religios-

plutarch and the new testament

25

parison with the use of metaphor, simile and allegory in the New Testament.69 Plutarch also offers some reflections on the didactic and hermeneutical use of pictorial language at the beginning of his Advices for Marriage70 and his Table Talks.71 In addition to the didactic aspect, there is an ontological and an epistemological one, which we have already alluded to earlier: the rationale behind this use of imagery is a Platonist view of the phenomenal world as an image of the divine realm of the truth. This comes close to the usage of imagery and symbol in the Gospel of John: in his Word become flesh, God provides us with corporeal semeia in order to lead us to knowledge, belief in the truth, and eventually life.72

3

Challenges and Obstacles

As has become clear from this overview, a lot of work has indeed been done on the comparison between aspects in Plutarch and the New Testament since the Betz project. Plutarch has found his way into textbooks and “Umwelt”introductions. However, compared to the study of Philo, there is still a long way to go. We are still not on any safe ground, as far as the framework and method of our comparisons are concerned.73 Two main obstacles remain: a kind of a “quarry”-approach on the one hand and a widespread parallelomania on the other. 1. On the one hand, there is the sheer size of the oeuvre: Plutarch’s work, as is well-known, not only comprises 27 LCL-volumes, but also spans two rather different corpora of the Lives and the extremely variegated Moralia. This often leads to a fragmented usage of the Corpus Plutarcheum. Research on Plutarch on the whole is still largely divided according to different disciplines and particular interests. Studies on Plutarch and

69

70 71 72 73

ität und der Philantropia (zu Plutarch, Quaest. Conv. 7.4 und anderen Stellen des Werkes),” ActaAntHung 40 (2000) 399–422. Some attempts have been made, e.g. in Betz, Theological/Ethical Writings; K.-G. Eckart, “Plutarch und seine Gleichnisse,” Theologia Viatorum 11 (1966–1972) 59–80. Plutarch’s notion of “myth” has been used as a foil for understanding Paul’s message by N.A. Røsaeg, “Myth in Plutarch and Paul: Painting with Words and other Metaphorical Terms,” SEA 76 (2011) 61–94. Con. Praec. 138C. Quest. conv. i.1, 614A. Cf. Hirsch-Luipold, “ὕλη θεολογίας;” Attridge, “Cubist Principle.” Some first steps are found in Gunkel et al., “Plutarch and Pentecost,” 72–78.

26

hirsch-luipold

2.

the New Testament tend to single out specific points for comparison— mainly on ethical matters and questions of genre in comparison to the gospels. Historians tend to know and read only the Vitae. Philosophers use mainly On the Generation of the Soul in the Timaeus (De animae procreatione) and the Quaestiones Platonicae as well as the polemical writings against Epicureans and Stoics. Historians of religion read the Pythian Dialogues and the De Iside et Osiride (as well as—selectively— the De superstitione). Each of these approaches results in a rather different picture of Plutarch. Thus, the problem is not just one of comparing Plutarch to the New Testament, but actually understanding him first!74 A second problem that has long been recognized in New Testament studies remains a parallelomania of various degrees.75 Especially problematic is the interpretation of verbal parallels which may or may not reflect actual semantic congruence.76 One striking example is Plutarch’s use of πνεῦμα (wind, vapour) which—as a divine vapour streaming forth from the air—is the cause of the inspiration of the Pythia according to some Stoic authors.77 Πίστις is another, this time, positive example: to appreciate how close Plutarch’s concept of πίστις is to that of Paul, one has to recognize the religious aspects of the concept in Plutarch.78 While George van Kooten79 has used the parallel of Plutarch to argue for a purely rational use of the term in Paul, we should in my view rather look at it the other way round: Plutarch’s religious (“fideistic”) usage of the term can

74

75 76 77 78

79

Betz notes in the preface to Plutarch’s Theological Writings and Early Christian Literature: “The way the material is presented expresses concern for Plutarch’s writings themselves, that they should not simply become “quarries,” from which “material” can be extracted. Each work has its own integrity, and it is important for understanding it not to destroy it first. Therefore, each treatise is prefaced by a brief introduction. The arrangement of following the text of Plutarch may be taken as an encouragement to read the treatises as a whole even in seminars or courses.” (ix) Cf. S. Sandmel, “Parallelomania,” JBL 81 (1962) 1–13; Aune, in this volume, 61 and Huian, 217. This was one of the major issues already in some of the contributions to the two volumes on Plutarch and Early Christian Literature edited by H.-D. Betz. Cf. Gunkel et al., “Plutarch and Pentecost,” 77–78. Cf. R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Religiöse Tradition und individueller Glaube: Πίστις und πιστεύειν bei Plutarch als Hintergrund zum neutestamentlichen Glaubensverständnis,” in J. Frey et al. (eds.), Glaube: Das Verständnis des Glaubens im frühen Christentum und in seiner jüdischen und hellenistisch-römischen Umwelt (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017) 251–273. G.H. van Kooten, “A Non-Fideistic Interpretation of ΠΙΣΤΙΣ in Plutarch’s Writings: The Harmony between ΠΙΣΤΙΣ and Knowledge,” in Roig Lanzillotta & Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse, 215–233.

plutarch and the new testament

3.

4

27

show how closely religious and philosophical reasoning are connected not only in Jewish and Christian, but also in pagan-religious thinkers of the time. Some additional challenges are posed by the literary character of Plutarch’s writings. The often dialogical character makes it methodologically challenging to pin down the author’s exact position on a specific point. To what extent can philosophical or religious positions put forward by the different characters in Plutarch’s dialogues be taken to represent the author’s position? To what extent, that is to say, does he use certain speakers as his mouth-piece? And to what extent is it even possible—or desirable—to reconstruct a consistent system behind the different positions put forward?80 What we are offered is not so much a dogmatic system. Rather, we are given glimpses of, or perspectives on, the truth, as he perceives it. That is part of the philosopher’s didactic program: instead of dogmatic teaching, Plutarch prefers to draw the reader into discussions which lead him on a dialectical path to the truth.

Ways Ahead

4.1

Reading Plutarch as a Religious-Philosophical Author in His Own Right In order to further unearth the treasures hidden in Plutarch’s work and thought for New Testament studies, the most critical point, in my view, is the following: we ought to read Plutarch as a religious-philosophical author in his own right again, before we begin our comparisons, and before we use him for doxographical reconstructions. This methodological premise, as a general rule, was called the “lex Malherbe” by Troels Engberg-Pedersen.81 While Plutarch transmits copious material, he is not simply collector and antiquarian but he melts these traditions to formulate his own religious-philosophical position. I take it as a description of his own philosophical method when Plutarch says the 80

81

Some work has been done on the role of characterization in Plutarch and the emphasis he gives to certain positions by putting them in the mouth of his teacher Ammonius, his brother Lamprias, or even himself. Plutarch consciously further complicates matters when he presents himself as a young student of Ammonius in De E apud Delphos, overenthusiatically pursuing his mathematical speculations. One of the most disputed statements in this regard is probably the one made by Cleobrotos at the beginning of De def. orac. 410B, to which we will turn on the next page. T. Engberg-Pedersen in his foreword in Dodson & Pitts (eds.), Paul and the Greco-Roman Philosophical Tradition, xvii.

28

hirsch-luipold

following about one of his characters, a holy man, in the beginning of the De defectu oraculorum:82 Cleombrotus “gathered traditional material, as it were, as a raw material for a philosophy which had theology, as he himself called it, as its goal” (συνῆγεν ἱστορίαν οἷον ὕλην φιλοσοφίας θεολογίαν ὥσπερ αὐτὸς ἐκάλει τέλος ἐχούσης; De def. or. 410B). That is precisely what Plutarch is doing. Therefore, reading Plutarch in his own right entails the endeavour to get some grasp on Plutarch’s work and philosophy as a whole, something notoriously difficult to achieve for the reasons given above.83 My contention is that an overall assessment of Plutarch’s religio-philosophical method and thought will allow for a renewed comparison of his work with the writings of the New Testament and Early Christian Literature.84 In addition to the seminal work by Hans Dieter Betz and his group, some markedly theological treatises have received due attention by New Testament scholars, like the Pythian Dialogues,85 On Isis and Osiris,86 or On the Delay of the Divine Vengeance,87 but also the two tractates on the fortune and virtue of

82

83

84

85

86 87

Similarly, R. Flacelière, “La théologie selon Plutarque,” in Mélanges de philosophie, de littérature et d’histoire ancienne offerts à Pierre Boyancé (Rome: Ecole française de Rome, 1974) 273–280; id., “Introduction générale,” in id. et al. (eds.), Plutarque, OEuvres morales, cxxi and clxi; Burkert, “Plutarch: Gelebte Religion,” 233; J.J. Hartmann, De Plutarcho scriptore et philosopho (Leiden: Brill, 1916) 188–189; Oakesmith, The Religion of Plutarch, 90. This interpretation, however, is not uncontroversial. I have discussed this quote in detail elsewhere. In other words: building on the ground-breaking work of Betz and his circle, we need to be more systematic in our approach to Plutarch’s theology as a basis for the comparison with the New Testament and early Christian literature. The epistemological importance of religious tradition in the work of a pagan philosopher needs to be taken into consideration by anyone who is interested in the religious milieu at the time of nascent Christianity. De Faye’s discussion of the logos-doctrine of the fathers (Origène, 2:99–140) is an exceptional example of this methodology. De Faye includes a whole chapter on Plutarch, beginning with a brief account of Plutarch’s ontology, epistemology, theology and daemonology, and subsequently proceeds to look at any given church father in that light. Recent commentaries are available for De E apud Delphos by T. Thum, Plutarchs Dialog De E apud Delphos: Eine Studie (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), and H. Obsieger, Plutarch: De E apud Delphos/Über das Epsilon am Apolltempel in Delphi. Einführung, Ausgabe und Kommentar (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2013), and for De Pythiae oraculis by S. Schröder, Plutarchs Schrift De Pythiae oraculis: Text, Einleitung und Kommentar (Stuttgart: Teubner, 1990). Attridge, “Cubist Principle;” Feldmeier, “Osiris.” R. von Bendemann, “Konzeptionen menschlicher Schuld und göttlicher Strafe: Gerechtigkeit bei Plutarch von Chaironeia,” in S. Beyerle et al. (eds.), Schuld: Interdisziplinäre Versuche ein Phänomen zu verstehen (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2009) 231–270; R. Feldmeier, “Der ‘Lenker und Herr von allem’ als ‘Schöpfer des Rechts’: Plutarchs Theodizee,” in id., Der Höchste, 91–106.

plutarch and the new testament

29

Alexander,88 thus forming a good basis for further study. As noted above, the Pythian Dialogues concentrate on issues of Greek religious tradition and its philosophical or theological interpretation, whereas De Iside et Osiride looks for a theological system behind Egyptian mythology and cult and is concerned with issues of cosmology and theological epistemology. In De sera numinis vindicta, which may be regarded as the most theological writing in his oeuvre, Plutarch discusses aspects of divine retribution, providence, and theodicy, as well as a post-mortal existence. 4.2 The Hermeneutics of the Traditions of Lived Religion The philosophical teacher and priest of Apollo at Delphi shares with the New Testament as well as with Hellenistic-Jewish philosophy the basic assumption that God has conveyed his truth, laying it down in the tradition of lived religions as an ancestral belief (πάτριος καὶ παλαιὰ πίστις) about the gods.89 This truth is called “the most noble gift that the gods have to give to mankind” in the opening of the De Iside et Osiride (351C). Thus, Plutarch regards such traditions as a primary source of philosophical enquiry.90 This is necessary for epistemological reasons: because we as corporeal beings have no direct access to the transcendent sphere of God, ancestral tradition offers the most promising— and maybe the only possible—avenue to the truth. This hermeneutical stance of a pagan philosopher is strikingly similar to Paul’s hermeneutics of divine wisdom in 1Cor 1–2.91 4.3 Looking at Structural Points of Agreement Instead of a merely terminological approach of comparing individual expressions, or at least in addition to such an approach, it is vital that one look more for structural points of congruence. For the purpose of this introduction, it may suffice to point to a series of dimensions that could be picked up in further research:92 theological points like the vision of God as One conceived of 88

89

90 91 92

D. Georgi, “Reflections of a New Testament Scholar on Plutarch’s Tractates De Alexandri Magni Fortuna aut Virtute,” in B. Pearson (ed.), The Future of Early Christianity: Essays in Honor of Helmut Koester (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1991) 20–34. Amat. 756A. Cf. F. Frazier, “Philosophie et religion dans la pensée de Plutarque: Quelques réflexions autour des emplois du mot πίστις,” Études platoniciennes 5: Le divin dans la tradition Platonicienne (2008) 41–61; Hirsch-Luipold, “Πίστις.” Van Nuffelen, Rethinking the Gods, 65, speaks of an “external source of authority for his own philosophy.” Most interesting for the theologian is Plutarch’s method of using traditions of lived religion as a foundation of his philosophy, his theology, and also his personal piety. I address several of these points in my forthcoming monograph The Theology of Plutarch, which I shall discuss further in the next paragraph.

30

hirsch-luipold

in personal ways such as father, maker, judge, philosopher; the central role of Logos, love, and harmony in the world as realities that brings God’s good order into the physical world and make God recognizable from within this physical realm; a doctrine of intermediary entities; more ethical aspects like a code of behavior following from a belief (πίστις) in God’s benevolent nature; literary and pedagogical aspects like the usage of biographies to express ethical, philosophical, and religious or theological ideas. These are only some areas where structural agreement can be found and they need to be scrutinized in greater depth. However, as was already said, this study presupposes a fairly comprehensive idea of Plutarch’s religious thought (similar to what we have for each of the New Testament writers, schools, and corpora). New Testament scholars agree that despite the fact that Paul’s letters are addressed to specific situations it is impossible to treat one of them without regard for all the other letters. If, however, Plutarch’s religio-philosophical thought is treated as a whole, all sorts of issues concerning the consistency (in terms of terminology and thought), chronology, rhetorical and literary branding of one individual writing arise, along with all the historical questions of contextual argumentation and all the issues of textual transmission93 which we know so well from the study of the Pauline corpus. 4.4 A Theology of Plutarch What we need in order to carry out the comparison with the New Testament along the lines just expounded is a systematic exposition of the religiophilosophical thought of Plutarch.94 A “theology of Plutarch”95 will provide scholarship in several fields with a tool to better interpret individual passages, concepts, and terminological issues. Several aspects of Plutarch’s “theology” should electrify the reader of the New Testament; some of these aspects have already been scrutinized to some extent, as was noted above.

93

94

95

In Plutarch we are often faced with a very problematic transmission of essentially one manuscript on which all copies are dependent, as in the case of Plutarch’s De Iside et Osiride, for example. This has been marked as a desideratum long ago by Winrich Löhr in his study of the second-century Gnostic theologian Basilides: W. Löhr, Basilides und seine Schule: Eine Studie zur Theologie- und Kirchengeschichte des zweiten Jahrhunderts (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996) 236. On the proper meaning of theologia and an outline of Plutarch’s doctrine of god, cf. Valgiglio, E., “La Teologia di Plutarco,” Prometheus 14/3 (1988) 253–265.

plutarch and the new testament

1.

2.

96

97

98 99

31

Plutarch’s polylatric monotheism.96 Plutarch’s monotheistic stand-point (or that of his teacher Ammonius) has been much discussed lately in the context of discussions on “pagan monotheism.” In my opinion, Plutarch represents a kind of pagan-religious monotheism which I would call polylatric monotheism—the position that God is essentially one, but worshipped under many different names. Even though Plutarch does not denounce the many gods of the traditional cult, all the various worshipped divinities appear to be expressions of the one divine entity behind them. Can this monotheistic position be related in any way historically to Hellenistic Judaism and early Christianity? The question was first posed by John Whittaker97 and then followed up in an important article by Frederick Brenk,98 but it still awaits a historical solution.99 As is well-known, Plutarch takes no notice of early Christianity (in contrast, for instance, to Lucian) and his knowledge of Judaism—even if much more accurate than is usually granted, is definitely not first-hand. In my opinion, the question in which way Plutarch can be related to Hellenistic Judaism and early Christianity is one of the most methodologically challenging and yet promising questions of all, with the potential to lead us to a new understanding of the development of religious Platonism in the early Roman empire. The reinterpretation of Plato’s view of the first principle. It is well-known that Plutarch stands out in the history of Platonism as one of the few who read the beginning of the Timaeus literally, thus underlining the personal aspects already hinted at in Plato. Plutarch’s God, therefore, becomes much more dynamic (even though Plato’s view is his point of departure, this God is not just a Platonic idea) and gets involved and interferes in human affairs (cf. especially De genio Socratis). At the same time, however, Plutarch rejects oversimplified anthropomorphic conceptions (usually

For the following, cf. F.E. Brenk, “Plutarch’s Monotheism and the New Testament,” in this volume [Lit.!]; R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Viele Bilder—ein Gott: Plutarchs polylatrischer Monotheismus,” in N. Hömke et al. (eds.), Bilder von dem Einen Gott: Die Rhetorik in monotheistischen Gottesdarstellungen der Spätantike (Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter, 2016) 43–68. J. Whittaker, “Plutarch, Platonism and Christianity,” in H.J. Blumenthal & R.A. Markus (eds.), Neoplatonism and Early Chrsitian Thougt: Essays in Honour of A.H. Armstrong (London: Variorum, 1981) 50–63. F.E. Brenk, “Plutarch, Judaism and Christianity,” in M. Joyal (ed.), Studies in Plato and the Platonic Tradition: Essays Presented to John Whittaker (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1997) 97–117. Cf. also E. Valgiglio, “Echi cristiani in Plutarco,” AALig 42 (1987) 168–187; F.E. Brenk, “Lo Scrittore Silenzioso: Giudaismo e Cristianesimo in Plutarco,” in I. Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la religione: Atti del vi Convegno plutarcheo Ravello 1995 (Naples: M. D’Auria, 1996) 239–262.

32

3.

4.

100

101

102

103

hirsch-luipold

attributed to the Stoics) as well as an unwarranted superstitious fear of the divine that goes against the conviction that God is good, benevolent, and philanthropic in his very essence (esp. in De superstitione).100 Father, King, Judge: This leads to more personal traits in Plutarch’s conception of God, beginning with Plato’s designation of the demiurge as Father and Creator. The very personal attributes and images used by Plutarch (including Lord, Ruler, King, Judge, physician, μυσταγωγός) have been touched upon to some degree,101 but deserve further scrutiny. Theodicy, dualism, and the role of evil: Some work has already been done on the nature of evil and the issue of divine responsibility in Plutarch’s theological thought, not only in its own right but also in connection with the biblical tradition.102 It is important for Plutarch to clear the beneficent and philanthropic Divine of any association with evil. The more monistic the theory of God becomes or, in other words, the more the divine is seen as the one ἀρχή bringing about and governing the world, the more dualistic forces need to be stressed in order to exempt God from any association with that which is disorderly and evil. The idea of an opposing but not coequal force within the world is expressed most clearly in the context of Plutarch’s analysis of Egyptian traditions viewed through the lens of the Heraclitean dictum that the “concord of the cosmos is caused by opposite tensions” (Transl. Griffith).103 A second, complementary strategy is found For a discussion of De superstitione in the context of the topic of fear of God in the Letter to the Hebrews, cf. P. Gray, Godly Fear: The Epistle to the Hebrews and Greco-Roman Critiques of Superstition (Leiden: Brill, 2004). Feldmeier, “Philosoph und Priester;” R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Der eine Gott bei Philon von Alexandrien und Plutarch,” in id. (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch, 141–167 (esp. 156–160); R. von Bendemann, “Zur Metaphorik göttlicher Medizin bei Plutarch und im frühen Christentum,” in Ph. Reichling & M. Strothmann (eds.), Religion für die Sinne—Religion for the Senses (Oberhausen: ATHENA-Verlag, 2016) 181–213. A.M. Malingrey, “Les délais de la justice divine chez Plutarque et dans la littérature judéochrétienne,” Actes du viiième congrès de l’ Association G. Budé (Paris: Budé, 1969) 542–550; G. del Cerro Calderón, “El problema del mal y la providencia en Plutarco y en la Biblia,” in M. García Valdés (ed.), Estudios sobre Plutarco: Ideas Religiosas. Actas del iii Simposio Internacional sobre Plutarco. Oviedo 30 de abril a 2 de mayo de 1992 (Madrid: Ediciones Clásicas, 1994) 223–234; R. Feldmeier, “Der ‘Lenker und Herr von allem’ als ‘Schöpfer des Rechts’: Plutarchs Theodizee,” in id., Der Höchste, 91–118. On the issue of dualism cf. R. Chlup, “Plutarch’s Dualism and the Delphic Cult,” Phronesis 45 (2000) 138–158; K. Alt, Weltflucht und Weltbejahung: Zur Frage des Dualismus bei Plutarch, Numenios, Plotin (Abhandlungen der Mainzer Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Literatur 1993/8; Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1993); Hirsch-Luipold, Denken in Bildern, 203–211; U. Bianchi, “Plutarch und der Dualismus,” ANRW 11/36.1 (Berlin/New York: de Gruyter, 1987) 350–365.

plutarch and the new testament

5.

6.

104

105

33

in the existence of a pre-cosmic matter and world-soul which is not evil in itself but is subjected to disorderly impulses and thus in need of the structuring work of the demiurge. This theory can also be developed into an ethical theory since the human soul participates in the world-soul. Mediating factors: the divine Logos, Love, Daimones, and extraordinary men. The Platonic idea of two different spheres or levels of reality leads, with some necessity, to the epistemological claim of Academic skepticism, namely that there is no way leading from the sphere of this world to the sphere of the truth or God. Thus, an increasing search for ways to bridge the gap ensued in Hellenistic Judaism, early Christianity, and the pagan-religious Platonism as represented by Plutarch. The most striking aspect may be the idea present in the De Iside et Osiride that the divine Logos, Osiris, inseminates Isis, pre-cosmic matter, thus bringing forth Horus, the physical world.104 This is the reason why this Logos, even if it was scattered throughout the physical world (after being ripped apart by Typho), can be traced within the physical realm and reassembled. In this way, the divine is able to reveal its transcendent reality within the physical realm, especially within the traditions of religion or through spiritual media like the Pythia, or Socrates. The ensuing picture, however, will never be in prefect congruence with its divine exemplar—due to the necessarily physical nature of whatever medium is being used. This is why Plutarch devotes a number of paragraphs in De Iside and elsewhere to the issue of hermeneutics. Septuagintisms in Plutarch? Once the structural theological congruencies between Plutarch’s theological thought and some New Testament writings have been delineated, aspects of terminology may also appear in a new light. Intriguing are the semantic overtones of certain terms as they are used in Plutarch. They point to influence by—or are at least in accordance with—Septuagint and Hellenistic-Jewish usage. Examples that have already been discussed are πίστις and πνεῦμα, but γιγνώσκειν/γνῶσις (involving a sexual connotation) and δόξα (with semantic overtones of light), too, are extremely curious in this context.105 Plutarch’s notion of πίστις

This was later taken up by the pagan Platonist Amelius (cf. S. Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke vom Evangelium zur Philosophie: Der Johannesprolog in der Relektüre des Neuplatonikers Amelios,” in A. Dettwiler & U. Poplutz (eds.), Studien zu Matthäus und Johannes: Festschrift für Jean Zumstein zu seinem 65. Geburtstag (Zurich: Theologischer Verlag Zürich, 2009) 377–397; Tanaseanu-Döbler in this volume, 177–211). For the latter, cf. R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Gedeihen im Licht—Verderben im Dunkel,” in

34

hirsch-luipold

and his conception of divine love have been compared to Johannine literature and to Paul.106 Further investigation may well find more such examples. All these aspects of a convergence between Plutarch and early Jewish and early Christian ideas go far beyond parallelomania. They pose a historical riddle, the solution of which will lead to a new understanding of how the various traditions of Hellenistic-Jewish, Christian, and pagan-religious Platonism developed in contact, exchange and mutual demarcation from and even denunciation of one another. 4.5

Plutarch as a Main Witness for the Religious-Philosophical Milieu Surrounding the New Testament To look at the Middle Platonic philosopher in this way has important implications for the history of philosophy of Early Imperial times and thus for the study of the New Testament as well as Hellenistic Jewish and early Christian literature in this context. If, turning towards the traditions of lived religion (myth, ritual, iconography, symbolism), Plutarch as a pagan philosopher uses these traditions as an argument in philosophical discourse, Philo may not be such a special case after all in the history of the philosophy of his day.107 And if indeed both of our

106

107

U. Berner et al. (eds.), Plutarch: Ist ,Lebe im Verborgenen‘ eine gute Lebensregel? (Darmstadt: wbg, 2001) 99–116. A. Despotis, in this volume, 141–161; G. van Kooten, “The ‘True Light which Enlightens Everyone’ (John 1:9): John, Genesis, the Platonic Notion of the ‘True, Noetic Light’, and the Allegory of the Cave in Plato’s Republic,” in G. van Kooten (ed.), The Creation of Heaven and Earth: Re-interpretations of Genesis i in the Context of Judaism, Ancient Philosophy, Christianity, and Modern Physics (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2005) 149–194. The prevailing opinion that Philo is “not a philosopher in the ordinary sense” was advanced in various publications by D. Runia. D. Levy recently concluded: “Philo was certainly not a philosopher, in the classical meaning of the term, but this did not prevent him from writing a corpus that at the same time was a resonance chamber of the main philosophical currents of his time and the revelation of a truth outside of philosophy where, in his opinion, she might find what she looked for so ardently” (“From Cicero to Philo of Alexandria: Ascending and Descending Axes in the Interpretation of Platonism and Stoicism,” in T. Engberg-Pedersen [ed.], From Stoicism to Platonism: The Development of Philosophy, 100 bce–100 ce [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017] 179–197 [197]). In a footnote, Levy explains what he means: “ ‘Normal’ philosophy lacks what is essential, namely, εὐσέβεια, presented in Mutat. 10 as κτημάτων τὸ κάλλιστον.” It should have become obvious by now that I do not share Levy’s notion of “normal” philosophy, and maybe the scare quotes reflect his own unease with this terminology. Quite to the contrary, I would claim that if we begin to take the kind of philosophy that Philo represents as being one option of doing philosophy in Early Imperial times which argues with other forms of doing philosophy about the content of the truth and possible ways to get there, we will get a picture

plutarch and the new testament

35

most substantial witnesses for the Platonism of the early Empire, Philo and Plutarch, are to be regarded as philosophers (and who would be in a position to say that they are not?), then this ought to change our view of the relationship of philosophy and religion during that period substantially. With Plutarch and Philo as the prime witnesses, the hermeneutics of religious tradition becomes a distinctive feature of first century Platonism. Thus, we may come to see nascent Christianity as part of a larger shift in the intellectual and spiritual climate. At least a certain strand of New Testament theology may turn out to be part of (and not just a reaction to) an emerging kind of religious Platonism in Early Imperial times comprising religious-philosophical thinkers of different provenances (Jewish, Christian, and pagan). They represent a characteristic and widespread change in the way of doing philosophy in late Hellenistic and Early Imperial times, as becomes more apparent in studies including both Plutarch and Philo:108 In this form of contemporary Platonism—but also in some forms of Stoicism—a religious aspect in terms of a starting-point from the interpretation of religious tradition109 as well as in a personal “faith” in a benevolent deity guiding the world and human beings towards the good becomes central.110 For this form of philosophy, I would therefore prefer the designation “religious philosophy” to that “popular philosophy.”111 Once we have the two main witnesses for religious Platonism in view—the Jewish exegete and the pagan-religious priest—we can better place the writ-

108

109 110

111

of the philosophy of the time that allows for the inclusion of figures like Plutarch, Philo, and some early Christian writing. This is a path begun also by the Neuer Ueberweg (see below 36–37), but it should be followed with all the consequences. E.g., Eisele, Unerschütterliches Reich; F.E. Brenk, “Philo and Plutarch on the Nature of God,” SPhiloA 26 (2014) 79–92, and the articles by Pleše, Sterling, Reydams-Schils, TanaseanuDöbler in this collection. As seen in Stoicism, for instance, in Cornutus (cf. De natura deorum). I therefore believe that the most important shift in the 1st and 2nd cents. ad is not the shift from Stoicism to Platonism (which is the general thesis at a symposium held in Copenhagen in 2014 and published under the title: From Stoicism to Platonism, see above note 107), but rather the emergence of a religious philosophy which made theology an integral part of the philosophical argumentation. As I have argued at the conference and in my article “The Dividing Line,” Plutarch attacks the Stoics as the philosophical school with which he shares a lot of common ground in the field of theology. An important issue to be further discussed is whether, in our study of New Testament and early Christian texts, we ought to take Stoicism or Platonism as the most relevant framework. Some contributions to this discussion are collected in: Engberg-Pedersen (ed.), From Stoicism to Platonism and M. Bonazzi & C. Helmig (eds.), Platonic Stoicism—Stoic Platonism: The Dialogue between Platonism and Stoicism in Antiquity (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2007).

36

hirsch-luipold

ings of the New Testament in the religio-philosophical milieu of their time (in terms of their concept of God, their anthropology, pneumatology, eschatology, and so forth). 4.6

A New Approach to the History of the Philosophy of Early Imperial Times Twenty-five years ago, David Runia and Gregory Sterling called for a “redrawing of the map of Middle Platonism.” The task has yet to be completed. And, as we have just seen, we may in fact need a “redrawing of the map” of Early Imperial philosophy more generally. Plutarch is the corner-stone in this debate. There were, says Sterling, in the first two centuries “philosophers who read sacred oriental traditions through the lenses of occidental philosophies by means of allegorical exegesis.”112 This, in his view, includes pagan-religious authors like Chaeremon, Plutarch, und Numenius. Thus, what is needed is a history of philosophy which includes those religious-philosophical approaches especially prevalent in the Platonic strands of Judaism, Christianity, and paganreligious philosophy. The Neuer Ueberweg: Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophie (volume 5/1 Philosophie der Kaiserzeit und der Spätantike, published 2019)113 aims at representing just this status quaestionis. Not only does it discuss Hellenistic-Jewish authors like Philo of Alexandria as well as early Christian

112

113

G.E. Sterling, “Platonizing Moses: Philo and Middle Platonism,” SPhiloA 5 (1993) 96–111 (99). He points specifically to Philo’s presentation of Moses as the highest philosopher whose wisdom derives from divine revelation. Just like Plutarch, Philo’s way of doing philosophy should be attributed a much more prominent place on the map of the philosophy of early Imperial times. The problematic circumstance that Philo has been relegated by and large to a mere footnote in the history of philosophy was already highlighted by H.A. Wolfson in his article “What is New in Philo?” in H.A. Wolfson, From Philo to Spinoza: Two Studies in Religious Philosophy, introd. by I. Twersky (New York: Behrman House, 1977) 17–38 (esp. 17–18). Wolfson saw the main problem in a conception of history that, beginning with Eusebius and Augustin, was focused on Christianity. Cf. also C. Riedweg (ed.), PHILOSOPHIA in der Konkurrenz von Schulen, Wissenschaften und Religionen: Zur Pluralisierung des Philosophiebegriffs in Kaiserzeit und Spätantike (Boston/Berlin: de Gruyter, 2017). The interdisciplinary dialogue opened up in this volume with a selection of scholars who previously contributed to the Neuer Ueberweg about the ways in which philosophy was practiced in schools, scientific discussions and religious contexts is exactly what we need to pursue further. Christoph Riedweg’s summary in this volume shows how much still needs to be done. I myself have discussed what I perceive to be a religious form of Platonism in the first and second centuries in various places. That there was a form of religious Platonism that included Jewish, early Christian, and pagan-religious thinkers was already the guiding thesis behind the junior research group “Ratio religionis,” which I led from 2006–2011 in Göttingen. In this context, we published the volume Religiöse Philosophie und philosophische Religion der frühen Kaiserzeit (Tübin-

plutarch and the new testament

37

authors extensively, but it includes a new chapter “Verwendbarkeit philosophischer Konzepte für jüdische, christliche und gnostische Theologie,” written by Dietmar Wyrwa. It is an important step that the Neuer Ueberweg actually wrestles with the issue of how to include theological and religious traditions into the larger picture of the history of philosophy during the Roman Empire. However, the issue is, it seems to me, far from being solved. Indeed, Wyrwa’s treatment highlights some remaining, troubling questions. Wyrwa begins by reminding us of positions which call the applicability of the very concept of a philosophy in the sphere of religiously inspired thinkers into question: “Es ist seit langem eine umstrittene Frage, ob es berechtigt ist, von einer ‘christlichen Philosophie’ zu sprechen, scheint doch ein auf Offenbarung beruhender Glaube dem Anspruch der Philosophie auf autonomes, rationales Denken, das an keine außerhalb seiner selbst liegenden Voraussetzungen gebunden ist, zu widerstreiten …” (83). With this, Wyrwa takes up positions such as that formulated by Jaap Mansfeld in Keimpe Algra’s Cambridge History of Hellenistic Philosophy under the heading “Theology.”114 As long as we frame the question in this way, we are in danger of reiterating the problematic “philosophy-religion”divide with the equation “Greek equals philosophical equals non-religious” versus the equation “Christian equals religious equals non-philosophical.” Wyrwa—as is very common in the history of philosophy (also with respect to Philo)—treats Christianity as a “special case” (Sonderfall), because its theology is based on a history which is transmitted as a continuous tradition of revelations of God (“Überlieferungsprozess,” “Offenbarungen”).115 Wyrwa grants Jews and later Christians the label “philosophy” within the “consciously wide concept of philosophy in antiquity,” insofar as they receive and utilize Greek concepts of thought: “… es sollte … nach dem bewusst weit gefassten, antiken Philosophieverständnis keine Frage sein, dass die Christen, um die es hier geht, im Allgemeinen die ihnen bekannten und als brauchbar erachteten Denkformen der philosophischen Tradition und Diskussion, in die sie im Rahmen ihres Bildungsganges wie von selbst hineingewachsen sind, anwendeten, um im christlichen Sinn zu philosophieren.”116 The question we will have to

114 115

116

gen, Mohr Siebeck, 2009). My own contribution was entitled “Die religiös-philosophische Literatur der frühen Kaiserzeit und das Neue Testament.” Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008, 452–478. Van Nuffelen, Rethinking the Gods, wants to make a clear-cut distinction between the categories of tradition and revelation: “There is no divine revelation in religion, but only symbolically clothed ancient knowledge.” D. Wyrwa, “Verwendbarkeit philosophischer Konzepte für jüdische, christliche und gnostische Theologie,” in C. Riedweg et al. (eds.), Die Philosophie der Antike, vol. 5/1: Die Philosophie der Kaiserzeit und der Spätantike (GGP, Basle: Schwabe Verlag, 2018) 83–103 (84).

38

hirsch-luipold

discuss further is this: do Jews and Christians simply accept or make use of (“übernehmen”) philosophical modes of interpretation? And is it the case that, in turn, some pagans like Plutarch, Numenius, Porphyry or Iamblichus apply alien, philosophical modes of interpretation to religious traditions?117 Hellenistic Jews and Christians, I would claim, did not just make use of a pagan philosophical discourse and turn it into Jewish or Christian “religious” philosophy, but they joined some of their pagan-religious colleagues in their endeavor to show that the religious tradition provides the better starting-point (or at least a valid starting-point) for the search for the transcendent, intelligible truth, which in this phase of Platonism is often equated with God or the Divine. 4.7

Plutarch’s Impact on the Church Fathers and on the Development of Later Christian Platonism A further desideratum is the study of Plutarch’s impact on the Church fathers (Clement of Alexandria, Origen, the Cappadocian fathers, Theodoretus, John Chrysostom) and, following from that, on the Christian reception of Platonism. French scholarship especially has noted the enormous impact of religious Platonism on the Church fathers. There is, however, a methodological difficulty in tracing Plutarch’s impact: all too often, the Church fathers discuss under the name of Plato concepts which actually originate in Early Imperial Platonism (or are shaped by the Platonic thought of that era).118 In other words: at close inspection, it turns out that what scholars often too readily take to be straightforwardly Platonic belongs in fact to a religiously inspired reinterpretation and reworking of Plato’s thought which is found most prominently in Early Imperial Platonism in Plutarch (and Philo).119 To give just one example: the “Platonic god” often referred to in secondary literature, with its monotheistic notions, turns out at close inspection to be a concept which derives from Plutarch rather than from Plato himself. It is obviously based on an interpretation of Plato’s Timaeus wherein even the formulation “father and maker” can be found and to which Plutarch devoted one of his Quaestiones Platonicae. But it only becomes a fully developed concept in the thought of the Chaeronean.120 117 118 119

120

Ibid., 85. Cf. Huian, in this volume, 212–214 (Methodology). This is recognized by de Faye, Origène, 2:99–140. While it is surely correct to regard Plutarch as a “disciple entousiaste de son maître” (Flacelière, “Introduction,” clxii), it has to be recognized that he treats Plato with the theological interpretation that will become so popular among Christian readers. For Plato’s ‘Theology,’ cf. M. Erler, Die Philosophie der Antike, vol. 2/2: Platon (GGP, Basle: Schwabe, 2007) 464–473; G. Van Riel, Plato’s Gods (Farnham, Surrey/Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2013).

plutarch and the new testament

39

Acknowledgements I would like to thank T.R. Niles for proof-reading this essay and also translating some sections of it.

Bibliography Almqvist, H., Plutarch und das Neue Testament: Ein Beitrag zum Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti (Uppsala: Appelbergs Boktryckeri/Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1946). Attridge, H., “The Cubist Principle in Johannine Imagery: John and the Reading of Images in Contemporary Platonism,” in id., Essays on John and Hebrews (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2010) 79–91 (= J. Frey, J.G. Van der Watt, R. Zimmermann & G. Kern [eds.], Imagery in the Gospel of John: Terms, Forms, Themes, and Theology of Johannine Figurative Language [WUNT 200, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006] 47–60). Aune, D.E., “Septem Sapientium Convivium: Moralia 146B–164D,” in H.D. Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Ethical Writings and Early Christian Literature (SCHNT 4, Leiden: Brill, 1978) 51–105. Beck, M. (ed.), A Companion to Plutarch (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014). Becker, M., “Ehe als Sanatorium: Plutarchs Coniugalia Praecepta und die Pastoralbriefe,” NT 52 (2010) 241–266. Bendemann, R. von, “Zur Metaphorik göttlicher Medizin bei Plutarch und im frühen Christentum,” in Ph. Reichling & M. Strothmann (eds.), Religion für die Sinne— Religion for the Senses (Artificium 58, Oberhausen: ATHENA-Verlag, 2016) 181–213. Bendemann, R. von, “Konzeptionen menschlicher Schuld und göttlicher Strafe: Gerechtigkeit bei Plutarch von Chaironeia,” in S. Beyerle, M. Roth & J. Schmidt (eds.), Schuld: Interdisziplinäre Versuche ein Phänomen zu verstehen (TKH 11, Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2009) 231–270. Betz, H.D., “Plutarch über das leere Grab des Numa Pompilius,” in J. Frey, S. Krauter & H. Lichtenberger (eds.), Heil und Geschichte: Die Geschichtsbezogenheit des Heils und das Problem der Heilsgeschichte in der biblischen Tradition und in der theologischen Deutung (WUNT 248, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009) 263–284. Betz, H.D., “Plutarchs Life of Numa: Some Observations on Graeco-Roman ‘Messianism,’” in id., Paulinische Theologie und Religionsgeschichte: Gesammelte Aufsätze v (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009) 166–190. Betz, H.D., “Credibility and Credulity in Plutarch’s ‘Life of Numa Pompilius,’” in D.E. Aune (ed.), Reading Religions in the Ancient World: Essays Presented to Robert McQueen Grant on his 90th Birthday (Leiden: Brill, 2007) 39–55. Betz, H.D., “Ein seltsames mysterientheologisches System bei Plutarch,” in id., Hellen-

40

hirsch-luipold

ismus und Urchristentum: Gesammelte Aufsätze i (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1990) 112–119. Betz, H.D., “Observations on some Gnosticizing Passages in Plutarch,” in id., Hellenismus und Urchristentum: Gesammelte Aufsätze i (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1990) 135–146. Betz, H.D., “The Problem of Apocalyptic Gere in Greek and Hellenistic Literature: The Case of the Oracle of Tryphonius,” in id., Hellenismus und Urchristentum: Gesammelte Aufsätze i (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1990) 184–208. Betz, H.D. (ed.), Plutarch’s Ethical Writings and Early Christian Literature (SCHNT 4, Leiden: Brill, 1978). Betz, H.-D., Plutarch’s Theological Writings and Early Christian Literature (SCHNT 3, Leiden: Brill, 1975). Bianchi, U. “Plutarch und der Dualismus,” ANRW 11/36.1 (Berlin/New York: de Gruyter, 1987) 350–365. Bonazzi, M. & Helmig, C. (eds.), Platonic Stoicism—Stoic Platonism: The Dialogue between Platonism and Stoicism in Antiquity (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2007). Brenk, F.E., “Plutarch: Philosophy, Religion and Ethics,” in D.S. Richter & W.A. Johnson (eds.), Oxford Handbook to the Second Sophistic (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017) 291–309. Brenk, F.E., “Philo and Plutarch on the Nature of God,” SPhiloA 26 (2014) 79–92. Brenk, F.E., “Most Beautiful and Divine: Graeco-Romans (especially Plutarch) and Paul, on Love and Marriage,” in D.E. Aune & id. (eds.), Greco-Roman Culture and the New Testament: Studies Commemorating the Centennial of the Pontificial Biblical Institute (SNT 143, Leiden: Brill 2012) 87–111. Brenk, F.E., “‘We Are of His Race’: Paul and the Philosophy of His Time,” in id., With Unperfumed Voice: Studies in Plutarch, in Greek Literature, Religion and Philosophy, and in the New Testament Background (Potsdamer Altertumswissenschaftliche Beiträge 21, Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 2007) 402–433. Brenk, F.E., “Plutarch, Judaism and Christianity,” in M. Joyal (ed.), Studies in Plato and the Platonic Tradition: Essays Presented to John Whittaker (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1997) 97–117. Brenk, F.E., “Lo Scrittore Silenzioso: Giudaismo e Cristianesimo in Plutarco,” in I. Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la religione: Atti del vi Convegno plutarcheo Ravello 1995 (Naples: M. D’Auria, 1996) 239–262. Brenk, F.E., In Mist Apparelled: Religious Themes in Plutarch’s Moralia and Lives (Mnemosyne supp. 48, Leiden: Brill, 1977). Brenk, F.E., “An Imperial Heritage: The Religious Spirit of Plutarch of Chaironeia,” ANRW 2.36.1 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1987) 248–349 (repr. in F.E. Brenk, Plutarch, Religious Thinker and Biographer, ed. by L. Roig Lanzillotta & L. Lesage Garriaga [Brill’s Plutarch Studies 1, Leiden: Brill 2017]).

plutarch and the new testament

41

Braun, H., “Plutarchs Kritik am Aberglauben im Lichte des Neuen Testaments,” in id., Gesammelte Studien zum Neuen Testament und seiner Umwelt (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1971, 3rd ed.) 120–135. Burkert, W., “Plutarch: Gelebte Religion und philosophische Theologie,” in T.A. Szlezák & K.-H. Stanzel (eds.), W. Burkert, Kleine Schriften viii. Philosophica (Hypomnemata suppl. 2.8, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 2008) 222–239. Burridge, R., What are the Gospels? A Comparison with Graeco-Roman Biography (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2018, 3rd ed.). Callan, T., “Prophecy and Ecstasy in Graeco-Roman Religion and in 1Corinthians,” NT 27 (1985) 125–140. Cerro Calderón, G. del, “El problema del mal y la providencia en Plutarco y en la Biblia,” in M. García Valdés (ed.), Estudios sobre Plutarco: Ideas Religiosas. Actas del iii Simposio Internacional sobre Plutarco. Oviedo 30 de abril a 2 de mayo de 1992 (Madrid: Ediciones Clásicas, 1994) 223–234. Charles, R., “Paul and Plutarch on Religion,” EC 8/2 (2017) 199–217. Chlup, R., “Plutarch’s Dualism and the Delphic Cult,” Phronesis 45 (2000) 138–158. Dodson, J.R. & Pitts A.W. (eds.), Paul and the Greco-Roman Philosophical Tradition (LNTS 527, London: Bloomsbury, 2017). Dörrie, H., Baltes, M. & Pietsch, Ch. (eds.), Der Platonismus in der Antike. Grundlagen, System, Entwicklung, 9 vols. published (Stuttgart: Frommann-Holzboog, 1987–). Dormeyer, D., “Plutarchs Cäsar und die erste Evangeliumsbiographie des Markus,” in R. von Haehling (ed.), Rom und das himmlische Jerusalem: Die frühen Christen zwischen Anpassung und Ablehnung (Darmstadt: wbg Academic, 2000) 29–52. Duff, T., Plutarch’s Lives. Exploring Virtue and Vice (Oxford: Claredon Press, 2002). Eckart, K.-G., “Plutarch und seine Gleichnisse,” Theologia Viatorum 11 (1966–1972) 59– 80. Eisele, W., Ein unerschütterliches Reich. Die mittelplatonische Umformung des Parusiegedankens im Hebräerbrief (BZNW 116, Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2003). Engberg-Pedersen, T., “Foreword,” in J.R. Dodson & A.W. Pitts (eds.), Paul and the GrecoRoman Philosophical Tradition (LNTS 527, London: Bloomsbury, 2017) xvii–xvii. Engberg-Pedersen, T. (ed.), From Stoicism to Platonism: The Development of Philosophy, 100bce–100ce (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017). Erler, M. & Stadler, M.A., Platonismus und spätägyptische Religion. Plutarch und die Ägyptenrezeption in der römischen Kaiserzeit (Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter, 2019). Erler, M., Die Philosophie der Antike, vol. 2/2: Platon (GGP, Basle: Schwabe, 2007) 464– 473. Faye, E. de, Origène, sa vie, son œuvre, sa pensée, 3 vols. (Paris: Leroux, 1923–1928). Faye, E. de, “La christologie des pères apologètes grecs et la philosophie religieuse de Plutarque,” in École pratique des hautes études, Section des sciences religieuses, Rapport sommaire sur les conférences de l’exercice 1905–1906 et le programme des conférences pour l’exercice 1906–1907 (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1905) 1–17.

42

hirsch-luipold

Feldmeier, R., “Der ‘Lenker und Herr von allem’ als ‘Schöpfer des Rechts’. Plutarchs Theodizee,” in id., Der Höchste (WUNT 330, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014) 91–118. Feldmeier, R., “Philosoph und Priester: Plutarch als Theologe,” in id., Der Höchste, 49– 60. Feldmeier, R., “Osiris. Der Gott der Toten als Gott des Lebens. De Iside Kap. 76–78,” in R. Hirsch-Luipold (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch: Götterbilder—Gottesbilder—Weltbilder (RVV 54, Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2005) 215–227. Ferrari, F., “Der Gott Plutarchs und der Gott Platons,” in Hirsch-Luipold (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch, 13–25. Ferrari, F., Dio, idee e materia. La struttura del cosmo in Plutarco di Cheronea (Strumenti per la ricerca Plutarchea 3, Naples: M. D’Auria, 1995). Fiore, B., “Passion in Paul and Plutarch. 1Corinthians 5–6 and the Polemic against Epicureans,” in D.L. Balch, E. Ferguson & W.A. Meeks (eds.), Greeks, Romans, and Christians. Essays in Honour of Abraham J. Malherbe (Minneapolis: Fortress Press 1990) 135–143. Flacelière, R., Irigoin, J., Sirinelli, J. & Philippon, A. (eds.), Plutarque, OEuvres morales, vol. i.1 (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1987). Flacelière, R., “La théologie selon Plutarch,” in Mélanges de philosophie, de littérature et d’histoire ancienne offerts à Pierre Boyancé (CEFR 22, Rome: École française de Rome, 1974) 273–280. Fowler, R.C., “Platonism,” in D.S. Richter & W.A. Johnson (eds.), Oxford Handbook to the Second Sophistic (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017) 563–580. Frazier, F., “Philosophie et religion dans la pensée de Plutarque. Quelques réflexions autour des emplois du mot πίστις,” Études Platoniciennes 5. Le divin dans la tradition Platonicienne (2008) 41–61. Fuhrmann, F., Les images de Plutarque (Paris: Klincksieck, 1964). Gallo, I. (ed.), Plutarco e la religione: Atti del vi Convegno plutarcheo Ravello 1995 (Naples: M. D’Auria, 1996). García Valdes, M. (ed.), Estudios sobre Plutarco. Ideas Religiosas. Actas del iii Simposio Internacional sobre Plutarco. Oviedo 30 de abril a 2 de mayo de 1992 (Madrid: Ediciones Clásicas, 1994). Georgi, D., “Reflections of a New Testament Scholar on Plutarch’s Tractates De Alexandri Magni Fortuna aut Virtute,” in B. Pearson (ed.), The Future of Early Christianity: Essays in Honor of Helmut Koester (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1991) 20–34. Görgemanns, H., Plutarch: Dialog über die Liebe (SAPERE 10, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011). Griffiths, J.G., Plutarch’s De Iside et Osiride: Edited with an Introduction, Translation, and Commentary (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1970). Gray, P., Godly Fear: The Epistle to the Hebrews and Greco-Roman Critiques of Superstition (Academia Biblica 16, Leiden: Brill, 2004).

plutarch and the new testament

43

Gruen, E.S., “Jewish Literature,” in D.S. Richter & W.A. Johnson (eds.), Oxford Handbook to the Second Sophistic (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017) 639–653. Gunkel, H., Hirsch-Luipold, R. & Levison, J.R., “Plutarch and Pentecost: An Exploration in Interdisciplinary Collaboration,” in J. Frey & J.R. Levison (eds.), The Holy Spirit, Inspiration, and the Cultures of Antiquity: Multidisciplinary Perspectives (Ekstasis 5, Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2014) 63–94. Hani, J., La religion égyptienne dans la pensée de Plutarque (Collection d’études mythologiques, Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1976). Hartmann, J.J., De Plutarcho scriptore et philosopho (Leiden: Brill, 1916). Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Priester, Philosoph, Propagandist—Plutarch und Delphi,” in B. Bäbler & H.-G. Nesselrath (eds.), Delphi: Apollons Orakel in der Welt der Antike (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2021) 397–412. Hirsch-Luipold, R., “ὕλη θεολογίας: Religious Lore as Inter‘text’ in Plutarch’s Moralia,” in Th. Schmidt, M. Vamvouri & R. Hirsch-Luipold (eds.), The Dynamics of Intertextuality in Plutarch (Leiden: Brill, 2020) 525–538. Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Religiöse Tradition und individueller Glaube: Πίστις und πιστεύειν bei Plutarch als Hintergrund zum neutestamentlichen Glaubensverständnis,” in J. Frey, B. Schliesser & N. Ueberschaer (eds.), Glaube: Das Verständnis des Glaubens im frühen Christentum und in seiner jüdischen und hellenistisch-römischen Umwelt (WUNT 373, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017) 251–273. Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Plutarch,” in L.T. Stuckenbruck & D.M. Gurtner (eds.), T&T Clark Encyclopedia of Second Temple Judaism, vol. ii (London/New York: T&T Clark, 2017) 614–616. Hirsch-Luipold, R., “The Dividing Line: Theological/Religious Arguments in Plutarch’s Anti-Stoic Polemics,” in J. Opsomer, G. Roskam & F.G. Titchener (eds.), A Versatile Gentleman: Consistency in Plutarch’s Writings (Plutarchea Hypomnemata, Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2016) 17–36. Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Viele Bilder—ein Gott: Plutarchs polylatrischer Monotheismus,” in N. Hömke, G.F. Chiai & A. Jenik (eds.), Bilder von dem Einen Gott: Die Rhetorik in monotheistischen Gottesdarstellungen der Spätantike (Philologus suppl. 6, Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter, 2016) 43–68. Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Plutarch: Religiöse Philosophie als Bildung zum Leben,” in T. Georges, J. Scheiner & I. Tanaseanu-Döbler (eds.), Bedeutende Lehrerfiguren: Von Platon bis Hasan al-Banna (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015) 95–122. Hirsch-Luipold, R. (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch: Götterbilder—Gottesbilder— Weltbilder (RVV 54, Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2005). Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Der eine Gott bei Philon von Alexandrien und Plutarch,” in id. (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch, 141–167. Hirsch-Luipold, R., Plutarchs Denken in Bildern: Studien zur literarischen, philosophischen und religiösen Funktion des Bildhaften (STAC 14, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002).

44

hirsch-luipold

Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Gedeihen im Licht—Verderben im Dunkel,” in U. Berner, R. Feldmeier, B. Heininger & R. Hirsch-Luipold (eds.), Plutarch: Ist ,Lebe im Verborgenen‘ eine gute Lebensregel? (SAPERE 1, Darmstadt: wbg, 2001) 99–116. Hirzel, R., Plutarch (Leipzig: Dieterich’sche Verlagsbuchhandlung Theodor Weicher, 1912). Holzbach, M.-C., Plutarch, Galba-Otho und die Apostelgeschichte: Ein Gattungsvergleich: (Religion und Biographie 14, Berlin: LIT Verlag, 2006). Hoof, L. Van, Plutarch’s Practical Ethics: The Social Dynamics of Philosophy (Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 2010). Klauck, H.-J., “Ein Mittelplatoniker: Plutarch von Chaironeia,” in id., Die religiöse Umwelt des Urchristentums ii: Herrscher- und Kaiserkult, Philosophie, Gnosis (Kohlhammer Studienbücher Theologie 9.2, Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1996) 124–142. Klauck, H.-J., “Mittelplatonismus und Neues Testament: Plutarch von Chaironeia über Aberglaube, Dämonenfurcht und göttliche Vergeltung,” in id. (ed.), Alte Welt und neuer Glaube: Beiträge zur Religionsgeschichte, Forschungsgeschichte und Theologie des Neuen Testaments (NTOA 29, Fribourg: Universitätsverlag & Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1994) 59–81. Klauck, H.-J., “Brotherly Love in Plutarch and in 4Maccabees,” in D.L. Balch, E. Ferguson & W.A. Meeks (eds.), Greeks, Romans and Christians: Essays in Honour of Abraham J. Malherbe (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990) 144–156. Kooten, G.H. van., “A Non-Fideistic Interpretation of ΠΙΣΤΙΣ in Plutarch’s Writings: The Harmony between ΠΙΣΤΙΣ and Knowledge,” in L. Roig Lancillotta & I. Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse of Late Antiquity (Ancient Mediterranean and Medieval Texts and Contexts 14, Leiden: Brill, 2012) 215–233. Kooten, G. van, “Pagan and Jewish Monotheism According to Varro, Plutarch, and St Paul: The Aniconic, Monotheistic Beginnings of Rome’s Pagan Cult—Romans 1:19–25 in a Roman Context,” in A. Hilhorst, E. Puech & E. Tigchelaar (eds.), Flores Florentino: Dead Sea Scrolls and other Early Jewish Studies in Honour of Florentino Garcia Martinez (JSJ suppl. 122, Leiden: Brill, 2007) 631–651. Kooten, G. van, “The ‘True Light which Enlightens Everyone’ (John 1:9): John, Genesis, the Platonic Notion of the ‘True, Noetic Light’, and the Allegory of the Cave in Plato’s Republic,” in G. van Kooten (ed.), The Creation of Heaven and Earth: Reinterpretations of Genesis i in the Context of Judaism, Ancient Philosophy, Christianity, and Modern Physics (Themes in Biblical Narrative 8, Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2005) 149– 194. Korenjak, M., “Review of D.S. Richter & W.A. Johnson (eds.), Oxford Handbook to the Second Sophistic (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017),” BMCR (2018.07.09). La Matina, M., “Plutarco negli autori cristiani greci,” in I. Gallo (ed.), L’eredità culturale di Plutarco dall’antichità al Rinascimento: Atti del vii Convegno plutarcheo MilanoGargnano, 28–30 maggio 1997 (Naples: D’Auria, 1998) 81–110.

plutarch and the new testament

45

Latzarus, B., Les idées religieuses de Plutarque (Paris: Leroux, 1920). Levy, D., “From Cicero to Philo of Alexandria: Ascending and Descending Axes in the Interpretation of Platonism and Stoicism,” in T. Engberg-Pedersen (ed.), From Stoicism to Platonism: The Development of Philosophy, 100bce–100ce (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017) 179–197. Licona, M.R., Why Are There Differences in the Gospels? What We Can Learn from Ancient Biography (New York: Oxford University Press, 2017). Löhr, W., Basilides und seine Schule: Eine Studie zur Theologie- und Kirchengeschichte des zweiten Jahrhunderts (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996). Malherbe, A.J., “The Cultural Context of the New Testament: The Greco-Roman World,” in C.R. Holladay, J.T. Fitzgerald, G.E. Sterling & J.W. Thompson (eds.), Light from the Gentiles: Hellenistic Philosophy and Early Christianity. Collected Essays by A.J. Malherbe, 2 vols. (NT suppl. 150, Leiden: Brill, 2014) 2.751–778 (= NIB 8 [1995] 12–26). Malherbe, A.J., “Plutarch’s Ethical Writings and Early Christian Literature by Hans Dieter Betz,” JBL 100 (1981) 140–142. Malingrey, A.M., “Les délais de la justice divine chez Plutarque et dans la littérature judéo-chrétienne,” Actes du viiième congrès de l’Association G. Budé (Paris: Budé, 1969) 542–550. Mansfeld, J., “Theology,” in K. Algra, J. Barnes, J. Mansfeld & M. Schofield (eds.), The Cambridge History of Hellenistic Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge Unicersity Press, 2008) 452–478. Mikoda, T., “A Comparison of the Demonologies of Origen and Plutarch,” in R.J. Daly (ed.), Origeniana Quinta: Historica—Text and Method—Biblica—Philosophica— Theologica—Origenism and Later Developments. Papers of the 5th International Origen Congress (BEThL 105, Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1992) 326–332. Niehoff, M.R., “Philo and Plutarch on Homer,” in id. (ed.), Homer and the Bible in the Eyes of Ancient Interpreters (Jerusalem Studies in Religion and Culture 16, Leiden: Brill 2012) 128–153. Niehoff, M.R., “Philo and Plutarch as Biographers: Parallel Responses to Roman Stoicism,” GRBS 52 (2012) 361–392. Nuffelen, P. Van, Rethinking the Gods: Philosophical Readings of Religion in the PostHellenistic Period (Greek Culture in the Roman World, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011). Oakesmith, J., The Religion of Plutarch: A Pagan Creed of Apostolic Times (London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1902). Obsieger, H., Plutarch: De E apud Delphos/ Über das Epsilon am Apolltempel in Delphi. Einführung, Ausgabe und Kommentar (Palingenesia 101, Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2013). Pade, M., The Reception of Plutarch’s Lives in Fifteenth-Century Italy, 2 vols (Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 2007).

46

hirsch-luipold

Pelling, C., Plutarch and History: Eighteen Studies (Swansea: Classical Press of Wales, 2002). Peterman, G.W., “Marriage and Sexual Fidelity in the Papyri, Plutarch and Paul,” Tyndale Bulletin 50 (1999) 163–172. Klauck, H.-J., Plutarch von Chaironeia: Moralphilosophische Schriften, ausgew., übers. u. hrsg. v. H.-J. Klauck (Stuttgart: Reclam, 1997). Reiser, M., Vier Portraits Jesu: Die Anfänge der Evangelien gelesen mit den Augen Plutarchs (Stuttgarter Bibelstudien 244, Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2019). Riedweg, Ch., Horn, Ch. & Wyrwa, D. (eds.), Die Philosophie der Antike, vol. 5/3: Philosophie der Kaiserzeit und der Spätantike (GGP, Basle: Schwabe Verlag, 2018). Riedweg, C. (ed.), PHILOSOPHIA in der Konkurrenz von Schulen, Wissenschaften und Religionen: Zur Pluralisierung des Philosophiebegriffs in Kaiserzeit und Spätantike (Philosophie in der Antike 34, Boston/Berlin: de Gruyter, 2017). Riedweg, C., Mysterienterminologie bei Platon, Philon und Klemens von Alexandrien (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 1987). Riel, G. Van, Plato’s Gods (Ashgate Studies in the History of Philosophical Theology, Farnham, Surrey/Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2013). Roig Lanzillotta, L. & Muñoz Gallarte, I. (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse of Late Antiquity (Ancient Mediterranean and Medieval Texts and Contexts 14, Leiden: Brill, 2012). Røsaeg, N.A., “Myth in Plutarch and Paul: Painting with Words and other Metaphorical Terms,” SEA 76 (2011) 61–94. Roskam, G., “Plutarch’s Theonomous Ethics and Christianity: A Few Thoughts on a Much Discussed Problem,” in R. Hirsch-Luipold & L. Roig Lanzillotta (eds.), Plutarch’s Religious Landscapes (Brill’s Plutarch Studies 6, Leiden: Brill, 2020) 84–114. Sandmel, S., “Parallelomania,” JBL 81 (1962) 1–13. Schimmelpenninck, M.A., Select Memoirs of Port Royal, vol. 1 (London: J. and A. Arch, 1829 & Philadelphia: Henry Longstreth, 1858, 5th ed.). Schröder, S., Plutarchs Schrift De Pythiae oraculis: Text, Einleitung und Kommentar (BzA 8, Stuttgart: Teubner, 1990). Schwabl, H., “Voller Tisch und brennende Lampe: Symbole der Religiosität und der Philantropia (zu Plutarch, Quaest. Conv. 7.4 und anderen Stellen des Werkes),” ActaAntHung 40 (2000) 399–422. Sirinelli, J., Plutarque de Chéronée (Paris: Fayard, 2000). Sterling, G.E., “Platonizing Moses: Philo and Middle Platonism,” SPhiloA 5 (1993) 96–111. Stern, M., Greek and Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism, vol. ii (Jerusalem: Israel Academy of Science & Humanities, 1980). Stockt, L. Van der (ed.), Gods, Daimones, Rituals, Myths and History of Religions in Plutarch’s Works: Studies Devoted to Professor Frederick E. Brenk by the International Plutarch Society (Logan/Málaga: Utah State University, 2010).

plutarch and the new testament

47

Stockt, L. Van der, “A Plutarchean Hypomnema on Self-love,” AJPh 120/4 (1999) 575– 599. Theobald, M., “Angstfreie Religiosität. Röm 8,15 und 1Joh 4,17f. im Licht der Schrift Plutarchs über den Aberglauben,” in N. el Khoury (ed.), Lebendige Überlieferung: Prozesse der Annäherung und Auslegung. Festschrift für Hermann-Josef Vogt zum 60. Geburtstag (Beirut: Friedrich-Rückert-Verlag & Ostfildern: Schwaben-Verlag, 1992) 321–343 (= Studien zum Römerbrief [WUNT 136, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001] 432–453). Thompson, J.W., “Paul, Plutarch and the Ethic of the Family,” Restoration Quarterly 52 (2010) 223–226. Thomson, F.J., “The Distorted Mediaeval Russian Perception of Classical Antiquity,” in A. Welkenhuysen, H. Braet & W. Verbeke (eds.), Mediaeval Antiquity (Mediaevalia Lovaniensia 1,24, Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1995) 303–364. Thum, T., Plutarchs Dialog De E apud Delphos: Eine Studie (Ratio Religionis Studien 2, STAC 80, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013). Valgiglio, E., Divinità e religione in Plutarco (Genoa: Compagnia dei Librai, 1988). Valgiglio, E., “La Teologia di Plutarco,” Prometheus 14/3 (1988) 253–265. Valgiglio, E., “Echi cristiani in Plutarco,” AALig 42 (1987) 168–187. Vegge, T., Paulus und das antike Schulwesen, Schule und Bildung des Paulus (BZNW 134, Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2006). Verseput, D.J., “Plutarch of Chaeronea and the Epistle of James on Communal Behaviour,” NTS 47 (2001) 502–518. Vogel, C.J. de, Greek Philosophy: A collection of texts with notes and explanations, 3 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 1950–1959). Vollenweider, S., “Der Logos als Brücke vom Evangelium zur Philosophie: Der Johannesprolog in der Relektüre des Neuplatonikers Amelios,” in A. Dettwiler & U. Poplutz (eds.), Studien zu Matthäus und Johannes: Festschrift für Jean Zumstein zu seinem 65. Geburtstag (Zurich: Theologischer Verlag Zürich, 2009) 377–397. Whittaker, J., “Plutarch, Platonism and Christianity,” in H.J. Blumenthal & R.A. Markus (eds.), Neoplatonism and Early Chrsitian Thougt: Essays in Honour of A.H. Armstrong (London: Variorum, 1981) 50–63. Wördemann, D., Das Charakterbild im Bios nach Plutarch und das Christusbild im Evangelium nach Markus (Studien zur Geschichte und Kultur des Altertums NF 19, Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 2002). Wojciechowski, M., “Paul and Plutarch on Boasting,” Journal of Greco-Roman Christianity and Judaism 3 (2006) 99–109. Wolfson, H.A., “What is New in Philo” in id., From Philo to Spinoza: Two Studies in Religious Philosophy, introd. by I. Twersky (New York: Behrman House, 1977) 17–38. Wyrwa, D., “Verwendbarkeit philosophischer Konzepte für jüdische, christliche und gnostische Theologie,” in C. Riedweg, C. Horn & D. Wyrwa (eds.), Die Philosophie

48

hirsch-luipold

der Antike, vol. 5/1: Die Philosophie der Kaiserzeit und der Spätantike (GGP, Basle: Schwabe Verlag, 2018) 83–103. Wyrwa, D., Die christliche Platonaneignung in den Stromateis des Clemens von Alexandrien (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 1983). Xenophontos, S. & Oikonomopoulou, K. (eds.), Brill’s Companion of the Reception of Plutarch (Leiden: Brill, 2019). Zedda, S., “Spiritualità cristiana e saggezza pagana nell’etica della famiglia: Affinità e differenze tra San Paolo e i Coniugalia Praecepta di Plutarco,” Lateranum 48 (1982) 110–124. Ziegler, K., Wuhrmann, W. & Fuhrmann, M., Fünf Doppelbiographien, vol. 1 (Zürich/ Düsseldorf: Artemis & Winkler 1994). Ziegler, K., “Plutarchos von Chaironeia,” RE 21.1 (Stuttgart: Metzler, 1951) 636–962.

chapter 2

Why Compare Plutarch and the New Testament? The Betz Project and the Form, Function and Limitations of Greco-Roman Parallel Collections David E. Aune

1

Introduction

The short answer to the title question is, of course, “Why not?” But since I have included a subtitle I cannot, unfortunately, restrict myself to so simple an answer. I could easily have extended the subtitle by adding: “Or, What Participating in Hans Dieter Betz’s CHNT Research Team has Taught Me about Comparing Plutarch and Early Christian Literature.” Three initial clarifications are necessary. First, although I have a long-time interest in Plutarch, the methodological reflections that follow apply equally well to all texts included in the Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti project. Second, though the term ‘New Testament’ occurs in the title, there is no historical reason to partition off the canonical New Testament from other early Christian texts, particularly those from the second century ce. Third, the term ‘compare’ focuses our discussion on the central methodological issue before us: comparison basically refers to the necessity of understanding the New Testament through the use of historical sources which mediate knowledge of the world in which the New Testament authors and their readers lived.1 As Ed O’Neil observed many years ago, “Christian literature is not an island.”2

1 G. Seelig, “Einführung,” in U. Schnelle & G. Strecker (eds.), Neuer Wettstein: Texte zum Neuen Testament aus Griechentum und Hellenismus 2/1: Texte zur Briefliteratur und zur Johannesapokalypse (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 1996) ix–xxiii (x). Seelig is also the author of an important study on the history-of-religions method (by which he essentially means the use of Greco-Roman parallels to illumine the interpretation of the New Testament): G. Seelig, Religionsgeschichtliche Methode in Vergangenheit und Gegenwart: Studien zur Geschichte und Methode des religionsgeschichtlichen Vergleichs in der neutestamentlichen Wissenschaft (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2001). 2 E.N. O’Neil, “Review of Plutarch’s Theological Writings and Early Christian Literature (H.D. Betz),” JBL 94 (1975) 631–633 (631).

© David E. Aune, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004505070_004

50 2

aune

Bridging the Gap between the New Testament and the Greco-Roman World

The modern forms of Christianity are the primary contexts in which the New Testament is revered, read aloud and silently, proclaimed and studied in various instructional and devotional contexts, primarily through modern translations. The New Testament, however, is deceptively familiar. The writings which were eventually collected as the New Testament originated between 50 and 125ce, i.e., nearly two thousand years ago in another language, another time and another culture, written by largely unknown individuals who perpetuated many aspects of Judaism in a world dominated by Roman Hellenism in their writings. These followers of Jesus, increasingly labeled ‘Christians’ after the first quarter of the second century, had largely abandoned their rural origins and established urban conventicles throughout the Levant in the socio-cultural context of Roman Hellenism and experienced increasingly strained relations with the Judaism from which many of them had originated. While the New Testament is a documentary anchor linking the modern church to its ancient origins, the collection of texts it contains reveals only fragmentary bits of information about the earliest phases of the movement itself and the varieties of its beliefs, rituals, practices and forms of social organization. The few surviving texts from the origins of this early Jesus movement must be read in the historical context of the Jewish traditions from which they emerged as well as the Hellenistic world in which they were embedded.3 The latter is the focus of the Corpus Hellenisticum project.

3

The Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti

3.1 Earlier Uses of Greco-Roman Parallels The use of parallels from the Greco-Roman world to illuminate aspects of early Christian thought in historical terms began in the sixteenth century. Joachim Camerarius (1500–1574) was one of the first to stress the utility of using parallels from Greek and Roman literature to interpret the New Testament:4 Since in an effort to understand these writings [the New Testament] I have carefully reflected on the meaning of the words and the explanation of the 3 U. Schnelle, “Vorwort,” in Neuer Wettstein 2/1, v. 4 W.G. Kümmel, The New Testament: The History of the Investigation of Its Problems (Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 1972) 31.

why compare plutarch and the new testament?

51

sentences and in the course of reading authors of both languages [Greek and Latin] have endeavored to determine and observe what of importance they have to contribute to this understanding. Camerarius had many intellectual successors in this project, producing works called Observationes (typically lists of parallel texts) and Annotationes (typically a commentary on the significance of parallel texts).5 The task of collecting ancient parallels to the New Testament achieved a major breakthrough with the publication of Johann Jakob Wettstein’s two-volume edition of the Greek New Testament in 1751–1752, which included an estimated 30,000 parallels from Greek and Latin literature (drawn from ca. 175 authors), the Church Fathers and Rabbinic literature to passages in the New Testament, cited without discussion in typical consolationes style.6 Wettstein was interested in a wide variety of parallels, including lexicographical, stylistic, grammatical, historical, cultural, religious and ethical. 3.2 Planning the Neuer Wettstein During the early part of the twentieth century, inspired by Wettstein and taking advantage of the availability of new editions of ancient texts and newly discovered papyri and inscriptions, concerned scholars saw the need to explore, expand and replace some of the Greco-Roman parallels assembled by Wettstein, many of which were based on inferior texts. From 1915 on, this project was appropriately dubbed the “New Wettstein”. By the mid-twentieth century the project was bifurcated into separate but related enterprises,7 with Willem Cornelis van Unnik (Leiden) directing the Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti,

5 Many of these works are listed by G. Delling, “Zum Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti,” ZNW 54 (1963) 1–15 (1–2, n. 1). From the 16th through the 18th cent., the term ‘observationes’ was used as an introductory title for various works containing factual information. Capellus wrote a work entitled Observationes in Novum Testamentum (1657), while H. Grotius entitled his work Annotationes in Novum Testamentum (1651). The term ‘observationes’ was widely used in scientific literature of the 16th and 17th cents. For example, Observationes Medicae was a common title given by physicians to works in which they wrote up cases from private practice to share with other physicians. Similarly, works entitled Observationes Botanicae consisted of descriptions of plants by botanists, while Observationes Zoologicae was a title frequently given to works describing animals. 6 J.J. Wettstein, Novum Testamentum Graecum, 2 vols. (Graz: Akademische Drucks- und Verlagsanstalt, 1962, reprint of the 1751–1752 edition). 7 A helpful review of the history of the quest for illuminating parallels to the text of the New Testament is found in L.M. White & J.T. Fitzgerald, “Quod est comparandum: The Problem of Parallels,” in id. et al. (eds.), Early Christianity and Classical Culture: Comparative Studies in Honor of Abraham J. Malherbe (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2003) 13–39.

52

aune

while Gerhard Delling (Halle), focused on the Corpus Judaeo-Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti, Greek literature written by Jewish authors. The latter has sponsored several international symposiums dealing with various aspects of Jewish-Hellenistic literature.8 According to van Unnik, the purpose of the Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti is to assemble from Greek and Roman sources “all the material that may be relevant to the elucidation of the New Testament with respect to its form and contents.”9 3.3 The Importance of Plutarch for Early Christian Studies Plutarch of Chaeronea (ca. 45–125 ce),10 was one of most erudite and productive scholars in the world of Roman Hellenism.11 The Catalog of Lamprias attributes an incomplete list of 227 works to Plutarch of which 78 miscellaneous works (called Moralia)12 and 50 lives have survived; his fame also led to the inclusion of several forgeries. The importance of Plutarch is due in part to the vagaries of transmission history. Several centuries of Greek literature before Plutarch have been almost entirely lost, while after him the later flowering of Greek literary activity known as the Second Sophistic was well under way. Due to the accidents of preservation, the rich collection of Plutarch’s pairs of Greco-Roman biographies (23 of which 22 survive) constitute the beginnings of Greek biography, just as his dialogs, part of the so-called Moralia, are the first to survive after those of Plato. Plutarch, however, is just one of a number of GrecoRoman authors whose writings preserve much of what we know of the world of Roman Hellenism.

8

9 10

11 12

R. Deines & K.-W. Niebuhr (eds.), Philo und das Neue Testament: Wechselseitige Wahrnehmungen. 1. Internationales Symposium zum Corpus Judaeo-Hellenisticum 1.–4. Mai 2003, Eisenach/Jena (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004); C. Böttrich & J. Herzer (eds.), Josephus und das Neue Testament: Wechselseitige Wahrnehmungen. 2. Internationales Symposium zum Corpus Judaeo-Hellenisticum 25.–28. Mai 2006, Greifswald (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007); R. Deines et al. (eds.), Neues Testament und hellenistisch-jüdische Alltagskultur. 3. Internationales Symposium zum Corpus Judaeo-Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti, 21.–24. Mai 2009, Leipzig (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011). W.C. van Unnik, “Words Come to Life: The Work for the ‘Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti,’ ” NovT 13 (1971) 199–216 (202). C.B.R. Pelling & T. Heinze, “Plutarchos: Leben und Werküberblick,” in H. Cancik & H. Schneider (eds.), Der Neue Pauly: Enzyklopädie der Antike, 16 vols. (Stuttgart/Weimar: Metzler, 1996–2003) 9.1159–1160 (1159). M. Beck (ed.), A Companion to Plutarch (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014). A complete list of these 78 works with Latin, Greek and German titles can be found in M. Baltes, “Die Schriften in Plutarchs Moralia,” in Der Neue Pauly, 9.1167–1170.

why compare plutarch and the new testament?

53

3.4 Formats for Presenting Greco-Roman Parallels A variety of formats have been used to present the parallels to the New Testament found in Greek and Latin texts. While none is inherently superior to the others, they all exhibit advantages as well as disadvantages. The most common formats are the following: (1) Arranging parallels in the canonical New Testament order (the format used by Wettstein), (2) Arranging parallels in the order of a Greek or Latin text (e.g., the two volumes on Plutarch edited by Hans Dieter Betz), (3) Arranging parallels to a Greek or Latin text in appropriate thematic categories (e.g., Betz’s monograph on Lucian).13 The first two arrangements will be the focus of this essay. 3.5 Arranging Parallels in Canonical New Testament Order Plutarch has already been the focus of many who have sought to use the vast resources of his literary corpus to illuminate aspects of the New Testament. The dissertation of Helge Almqvist, written under Anton Fridrichsen at Uppsala, published in 1946, is entitled: Plutarch und Das Neue Testament: Ein Beitrag zum Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti.14 In this slim volume (29 pages of introduction and 110 pages of parallels), Almqvist presents 329 passages in the New Testament with parallels to Plutarch in Greek, while the NT passages are mentioned but not quoted. Almqvist had a systematic list of the eight kinds of parallels he was looking for and labeled each New Testament passage he mentioned with the specific type of parallel he found in Plutarch: (a) literary style (63 parallels), (b) cultural history (26), (c) ethics (41), (d) religion (18), (e) figures of speech (35), (f) lexicography (13) and (g) phrases or idioms (66). These categories reflect the variety of parallels collected, though not categorized, by Wettstein. The references to New Testament passages are listed with the relevant quotations from Plutarch in Greek followed by a succinct discussion of their significance in the style of the medieval annotationes. A valuable handbook that draws on a much greater range of Greek and Roman writers, provides ancient parallels in translation in canonical order with brief discussions of their significance but no citations in the original languages is available in Berger & Colpe, Religionsgeschichtliches Textbuch zum Neuen

13

14

H.D. Betz, Lukan von Samosata und das Neue Testament: Religionsgeschichtliche und Paränetische Parallelen. Ein Beitrag zum Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1961). H. Almqvist, Plutarch und das Neue Testament: Ein Beitrag zum Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti (Uppsala: Appelbergs Boktryckeri/Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1946).

54

aune

Testament (1987),15 which cites 626 texts in German followed by indications of their relevance. As the title suggests, the background texts focus on the historyof-religions context of early Christianity drawn from a wide variety of sources: ancient Egyptian, classical Greek, Greco-Roman, Jewish intertestamental and rabbinic, Nag Hammadi and patristic. This work was translated and expanded by M. Eugene Boring with the title The Hellenistic Commentary to the New Testament,16 a work containing parallels to 976 New Testament texts (more than a 50% increase in size), work which Boring describes as a “Hellenistic StrackBillerbeck.”17 The designation of the Neuer Wettstein project, founded by Georg Heinrici ca. 1915, became a virtual synonym for the Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti.18 The first volume of this project appeared in 1996 covering the New Testament epistolary literature and the Apocalypse of John.19 Unfortunately, Georg Strecker (1929–1994), who initiated and directed the Neuer Wettstein project at Göttingen, beginning in 1987, did not live to see the appearance of this publication, which consists of 1831 pages (including an Appendix of 160 pages, with an index and a list of the editions of Greek and Latin texts used in the project). The format of each parallel begins with a quotation of the Greek text of a New Testament, followed by a very brief comment on the significance of the parallel, followed by a German translation of the Greek or Latin text with relevant Greek and Latin words or phrases inserted in parentheses within the text. This volume contains nearly 7,500 Greek and Latin passages, including 166 quotations from Plutarch. The volume of parallels relating to the Gospel of John appeared in 2001 (988 pages, with 57 quotations from Plutarch),20 while the one focusing on the Gospel of Mark was published in 2008 (879 pages, with 67 quotations from Plutarch).21 Most recently, the first volume on Matthew appeared in 2013 (Matthew

15 16 17 18 19 20

21

K. Berger & C. Colpe (eds.), Religionsgeschichtliches Textbuch zum Neuen Testament (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1987). M.E. Boring et al. (eds.), The Hellenistic Commentary to the New Testament (Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 1995). Boring, Hellenistic Commentary, 12. Seelig, “Einführung,” x. Neuer Wettstein 2/1. U. Schnelle & G. Strecker (eds.), Neuer Wettstein: Texte zum Neuen Testament aus Griechentum und Hellenismus1/2: Texte zum Johannesevangelium (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2001). U. Schnelle & M. Labahn (eds.), Neuer Wettstein: Texte zum Neuen Testament aus Griechentum und Hellenismus 1/1.1: Texte zum Markusevangelium (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2008).

why compare plutarch and the new testament?

55

1–10, 1008 pages) and the second volume in 2014 (Matthew 11–28, 800 pages).22 It is very unfortunate that only five very short one or two page critical reviews of one or another of these volumes have been published since they began to appear in 1996.23 Surely these collections deserve a much broader and deeper critical evaluation than has thus far appeared. In 1992, Georg Strecker wrote a short introduction to the Neuer Wettstein project,24 an overview later supplemented by Gerald Seelig in the introduction to the volume that appeared in 1996.25 During the nearly 250 years since the publication of Wettstein’s Greek New Testament, biblical and classical scholarship underwent enormous changes providing a wealth of textual and linguistic tools as well as the methodological sophistication necessary for producing a new and expanded collection of parallels, this time restricted to Greek and Latin sources incorporating newly available texts and critical editions. Strecker emphasizes the importance of making the New Wettstein widely accessible, not only to scholars, but also to theology students, pastors and religious educators.26 The decision was made, therefore, to present the material in German translation with the occasional insertion of Greek and Latin words or phrases in parentheses where appropriate. Unlike the original Wettstein, the parallels cited are in longer selections, introduced with brief introductions indicating the context of the passages cited in order to mitigate the tendency to use the texts out of context and to emphasize the distinctive features of the original texts. Not all the material used by Wettstein was incorporated into the Neuer Wettstein; about two-thirds of the parallels found in Wettstein were omitted, particularly those of a lexical, stylistic and grammatical nature, primarily because of the accessibility of many newer linguistic tools, such as Bauer’s Greek lexicon, the Theological Dictionary of the New Testament and the New Testament

22

23

24 25 26

U. Schnelle & M. Labahn (eds.), Neuer Wettstein: Texte zum Neuen Testament aus Griechentum und Hellenismus 1/1.2–1: Texte zum Matthäusevangelium (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2013). U. Schnelle & M. Labahn (eds.), Neuer Wettstein: Texte zum Neuen Testament aus Griechentum und Hellenismus 1/1.2–2: Texte zum Matthäusevangelium (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2014); R. Oberforcher on “Texte zum Johannesevangelium,” ZKTh 124 (2002) 239; E.E. Ellis on “Texte zum Johannesevangelium,” Southwestern Journal of Theology 45 (2003) 92–93; H.-J. Klauck on “Texte zum Johannesevangelium,” BiZ 47 (2003) 127–128; B.J. Koet on “Texte zum Markusevangelium,”Bijdragen 70 (2009) 472–473; J.K. Elliott on “Texte zum Markusevangelium,”NovT 52 (2010) 198; J.K. Elliott on “Matthäus 1–10,”NovT 56 (2014) 221– 228. G. Strecker, “Das Göttinger Projekt ‘Neuer Wettstein,’ ” ZNW 83 (1992) 245–252. Seelig, “Einführung.” Strecker, “Das Göttinger Projekt,” 248.

56

aune

Greek grammar of Blass, Debrunner and Rehkopf.27 The focus was primarily on Greco-Roman sources that shed light on New Testament realia, i.e., institutions, subjects, usages and conventions. Strecker expected that while the Neuer Wettstein could never be inclusive of all the relevant parallels, it would serve as a major source for illuminating the New Testament from Greek and Hellenistic sources.28 3.6 Arranging Parallels in the Order of a Greco-Roman Text One effective way of insuring that proposed parallels to the New Testament are read in context is to analyze individual texts and discuss the significance of parallels as they occur in that text. A good example of this format is the series of ten volumes entitled New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity, by G.H.R. Horsley (vols. 1–5) and S.R. Llewelyn (vols. 6–10).29 This project has no direct link to the Corpus Hellenisticum project, but was rather an Australian enterprise focusing more on linguistics and lexicography in preparation for a revised and expanded Moulton and Milligan.30 With the appearance of the sixth volume, edited by S.R. Llewelyn, the emphasis shifted from a lexicographical orientation to a focus on aspects of Greco-Roman social history which have a bearing on understanding early Christian literature,31 more in line with the goal of the CHNT. Each volume discusses a select number of recently published papyri, inscriptions and ostraca, first citing the Greek text, then an English translation followed by relatively detailed discussions of the relevance of the text to early Christian literature. This is an extremely effective way of presenting the relevance of Greek parallels, primarily because Greek texts (all of which are relatively short) are presented and discussed in their entirety. Hans Dieter Betz, with the support of the National Endowment for the Humanities, organized two ambitious projects focusing on Plutarch in the

27 28 29

30

31

Strecker, “Das Göttinger Projekt,” 250. Strecker, “Das Göttinger Projekt,” 252. G.H. Horsley (ed.), New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity, vols. 1–5 (North Ryde: Ancient History Documentary Research Center, 1981–1989) with vol. 5 containing a cumulative index for vols. 1–5; S.R. Llewelyn (ed.), New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity, vols. 6–10 (North Ryde: Ancient History Documentary Research Center, 1992–2012). Vol. 10 contains an index of vols. 6–10. E.A. Judge, “Preface,” in G.H. Horsley (ed.), New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity, vol. 1 (North Ryde: Ancient History Documentary Research Center, 1981) iv–v; J.H. Moulton & G. Milligan, The Vocabulary of the Greek New Testament Illustrated from the Papyri and Other Non-Literary Sources (Grand Rapids: Ancient History Documentary Research Center 1980). Horsley, New Documents, 6.1.

why compare plutarch and the new testament?

57

1970’s at the Institute for Antiquity and Christianity in Claremont, California. The first project focused on Plutarch’s theological writings and the NT,32 while the second centered on Plutarch’s ethical writings and the NT.33 Betz assembled a team of concerned scholars, each of whom explored particular essays in the Moralia to discover parallels that would illumine early Christian literature. This group of scholars, whose membership changed to some extent over the years, met annually in Claremont to discuss the progress individual scholars had made in analyzing their essays and identifying significant parallels to early Christian literature. Each of Plutarch’s essays was treated as a text which needed to be understood and analyzed in its own right rather than simply as a quarry from which various useful tidbits of information could be excavated.34 The primary focus was on identifying verbal and thematic parallels in the areas of religion, theological and philosophical ideas, ethics, forms of speech and composition.35 Each of the ten essays in the first volume begins with an introduction focusing on general features of Plutarch’s essay (averaging 3.8 pages per essay), some very short (two consist of a single page), with three that are relatively long (6, 8 and 10 pages respectively). The body of nine of the ten essays consists of a series of Greek lemmata, followed by a list of relevant passages in early Christian literature with very brief comments on their significance. The one exception is the essay by Morton Smith on De superstitione, which begins with an eightpage introduction, followed by a series of extended explanatory paragraphs, some beginning with lemmata in Greek or English, and others not. In my view, Smith’s extended discussion of parallels makes his essay the most useful and effective of the entire volume. In two essays, the authors include in their introductions relatively lengthy discussions of important issues pertaining to their essay. Donald A. Stoike’s ten-page introduction to De genio Socratis (the longest in the volume) includes an extended treatment of the context of Greek philosophical thought, while my six-page introduction to De esu carnium orationes i and ii includes a discussion of the diatribe style found in the two essays. 32

33 34

35

H.D. Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Theological Writings and Early Christian Literature (Leiden: Brill, 1975). An instructive review of this volume was written by E.N. O’Neil, a classicist who would join the team producing the second volume (O’Neil, “Review”). H.D. Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Ethical Writings and Early Christian Literature (Leiden: Brill, 1978). A warning against treating ancient Greek literature in this way by those seeking parallels to the New Testament was issued by G. Strecker, “Das Göttinger Projekt,” 249, n. 14, where he calls attention to one of the major virtues of the two Plutarch volumes edited by H.D. Betz, namely, the emphasis on the context of the parallels discussed. Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Theological Writings, 10.

58

aune

What the team learned in putting together the first volume led to improvements in the second, with Morton Smith’s influence in striking evidence. The team behind this volume represented more academic diversity: two ancient historians (Smith and Wicker), five classicists (Dillon, Hershbell, Martin, O’Neil and Phillips) and five New Testament scholars (Aune, Beardslee, Betz, Grese and Lührmann). In this second volume, Plutarch’s Ethical Writings and Early Christian Literature contains chapters on fourteen treatises of Plutarch, the editor calls attention to two new emphases in the Preface:36 (a) an emphasis on the historical background of Plutarch’s ethics (evident in Betz’s introductory essay),37 and (b) an emphasis on the formal structure and composition of each treatise. There were other changes as well. First, the average length of the introductions went from just under four pages to more than twelve pages, in part to accommodate the new emphasis on composition and structure. Second, while the use of short Greek lemmata followed by brief comments is used in five of the essays, the format used by Smith in the first volume, i.e., longer explanatory paragraphs that focus the discussion more broadly than that introduced by a lemma, now characterizes seven of the essays. 3.7 Strengths and Weakness of the Two Modes of Presentation Arranging Greco-Roman parallels in New Testament order can be done in a variety of ways: quoting the parallel in translation or the original language, with or without a shorter or longer explanation of its significance. Wettstein quoted the text in the original language, but provided few if any explanations. The collection by Boring, Berger and Colpe quotes the original text in translation, followed by a relatively long explanatory paragraph. The Neuer Wettstein quotes the parallel in German translation with key phrases in Greek or Latin placed in parentheses, preceded by a relatively brief explanation. The main drawback of this arrangement is that it makes it relatively easy to misunderstand or even misuse the parallels since they are presented out of context and the burden is almost entirely on the user to check the original text and context. This problem can be mitigated depending on the adequacy of the explanation. Another inherent disadvantage of this format is that it makes no provision for citing parallels to other early Christian texts. The main advantage is that it provides ready access to Greco-Roman parallels for use in research and that when presented in a modern translation makes the parallels accessible to a much wider audience.

36 37

Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Ethical Writings, vii. Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Ethical Writings, 1–10.

why compare plutarch and the new testament?

59

Arranging parallels in the order of a Greco-Roman text, such as an essay by Plutarch, has a number of advantages. First, it treats the original text with integrity and tends to do a better job of contextualizing parallels to early Christian texts, making it more difficult to misuse them, particularly when the structure and argument of the Greco-Roman text is discussed in detail. Second, it makes it easier to refer to parallels to second century Christian literature, which can be inserted wherever appropriate. Third, this format makes it possible to include longer discussions of particular types of parallels almost in the form of excurses. One disadvantage is that it makes it difficult to locate parallels to specific New Testament texts, even though an adequate index is provided (e.g., in the index to Plutarch Ethical Writings and Early Christian Literature, there are eight references to Gal 5:26 and seven to Gal 6:1).

4

Reflections on the Comparative Method

The comparative method is often driven by ideological constraints not always recognized as playing a significant role in the comparative procedure (the most obvious example is the tendency to read the ancient world through a Christian lens and the distortions that can ensue), that is, using, in the words of Abe Malherbe, “an agenda set by a New Testament interest, thus offering a Christian organizing principle for ‘parallels’ found in the pagan materials.”38 In a 1957 essay, Rudolf Bultmann asked whether exegesis without presuppositions was possible.39 He maintained that in one sense it was, if by the phrase “without presuppositions” we mean not presupposing the results of exegesis beforehand. In a more important sense, however, he concludes that ultimately “there cannot be any such thing as presuppositionless exegesis” because of the individuality, biases, gifts and weaknesses of the interpreter.40 Therefore interpreters ought to eliminate or control their subjectivities by training themselves to focus their attention on the subject matter contained in the text. Of course, that is easier said than done. According to Bultmann, the one necessary methodological presupposition for the biblical interpreter is the use of

38 39

40

A.J. Malherbe, “Hellenistic Moralists and the New Testament,” ANRW ii.26.1 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1992) 267–333 (275–276). R. Bultmann, “Ist voraussetzungslose Exegese möglich?,” in id., Glauben und Verstehen: Gesammelte Aufsätze von Rudolf Bultmann, 4 vols. (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1962) 3.142– 150. Bultmann, “Exegese,” 142.

60

aune

the historical-critical method for interpreting biblical texts, a sentiment with which we would all agree, but which some in more conservative circles have transformed into a theologically sanitized form of historical criticism, which some have labeled the “grammatico-historical method.”41 Bultmann was overly optimistic about the ability of interpreters to control their presuppositions, since they are unconsciously as well as consciously held. The ‘observer effect’ in physics means that the observation of certain systems cannot be made without affecting what is being observed. In our case it is difficult for scholars investigating ancient religions to avoid projecting modern alien presuppositions onto the ancient texts they are interpreting. Modern New Testament scholarship has used certain abstract terms, such as ‘gnosticism,’42 ‘mysticism’ and ‘magic,’43 all categories of third-order discourse used to describe first- and second-order phenomena from the world of the New Testament.44 Each of these terms is used to organize, define and present a wide variety of ancient texts using dubious modern categories that more often than not obscure rather than illuminate ancient conceptions. While biblical scholars do not hold the same kind of universal basic assumptions or paradigms that are held by the scientific community, there are nevertheless occasional paradigm shifts analogous to the paradigm shifts in scientific revolutions of the sort pointed out by Thomas Kuhn.45 In a famous example of what might be called a paradigm shift in NT scholarship, Johannes Weiss argued, against the dominant idealistic conception of the Kingdom of God in the teaching of Jesus as something subjective, inward and spiritual, that the Kingdom of God was rather the objective messianic Kingdom, understand as analogous to a territory into which one enters.46 This eschatological realism

41 42 43

44

45 46

R.P. Martin, “Approaches to New Testament Exegesis,” in I.H. Marshall (ed.), New Testament Interpretation: Essays on Principles and Methods (Exeter: Wipf & Stock, 1977) 220–251. M.A. Williams, Rethinking ‘Gnosticism’: An Argument for Dismantling a Dubious Category (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1996). D.E. Aune, “The Use of the Term ‘Magic’ as a Socio-Religious Category in the Study of the Greco-Roman World and Early Christianity,” in S.K. Black (ed.), To Set at Liberty: Essays on Early Christianity and Its Social World in Honor of John H. Elliott (Sheffield: Phoenix, 2014) 15–26. Bultmann cites the example of how the New Testament term πνεῦμα (translated into German as “Geist”) was understood in the exegesis of the Tübingen school in terms of philosophical idealism of the late 18th and early 19th cents. as the human spirit as a manifestation of the transcendent Absolute Spirit. T.S. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1962). J. Weiss, Jesus’ Proclamation of the Kingdom of God (Philadelphia, PA: Augsburg Fortress, 1971) 133.

why compare plutarch and the new testament?

61

radically changed the historical understanding of the teachings of Jesus in the Gospels. Sometimes ideological presuppositions only become clear with the passage of time, since scholars are often so enmeshed in ideological assumptions that only the passage of time can make erroneous suppositions obvious. A monumental collection of rabbinic parallels to the New Testament was compiled and published under the title Kommentar zum Neuen Testament aus Talmud und Midrasch by Hermann L. Strack (1848–1922) and Paul Billerbeck (1853–1932), largely the work of Billerbeck.47 This encyclopedic work served as a model for the Neuer Wettstein. With the passage of time, however, it has become painfully evident that the work was ideologically driven by a distorted conception of Judaism. Strack and Billerbeck, like others of their era (such as Wilhelm Bousset), were influenced to one degree or another by the caricature of Judaism popularized by Ferdinand Wilhelm Weber,48 who regarded Judaism as a decadent, external and legalistic religion, antithetical to the religion of Jesus and Paul.49 Samuel Sandmel observes that while the authors quote rabbinic literature endlessly to illuminate the New Testament, “Yet even where Jesus and the rabbis seem to be saying the same thing Strack-Billerbeck manage to demonstrate that what Jesus said was finer and better.”50 Helge Almqvist, whose work we have reviewed above, was aware that the 329 parallels he drew from Plutarch seems like a relatively meager harvest, but maintains that the world of the New Testament was very different in spirit and character from that of Hellenism.51 This reiterates a statement made on 47 48 49

50

51

H.L. Strack & P. Billerbeck, Kommentar zum Neuen Testament aus Talmud und Midrasch, 6 vols. (Munich: C.H. Beck, 1961, 3rd ed.). F.W. Weber, Jüdische Theologie auf Grund des Talmud und verwandter Schriften: Gemeinfasslich dargestellt (Leipzig: Dörffling & Franke, 1897, 2nd ed.). See the sharp criticism of the presentation of Judaism in Strack & Billerbeck in E.P. Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism: A Comparison of Patterns of Religion (Philadelphia, PA: Augsburg Fortress, 1977) 42–44, et passim. More recently, see B. Schaller, “Paul Billerbecks ‘Kommentar Zum Neuen Testament aus Talmud und Midrasch’: Wege und Abwege, Leistung und Fehlleistung christlicher Judaistic,” in L. Doering et al. (eds.), Judaistik und neutestamentliche Wissenschaft: Standorte, Grenzen, Beziehungen (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2008) 61–84. For a summary of the views of those scholars representing the ‘New Perspective’ on Paul (E.P. Sanders, J.D. Dunn, N.T. Wright), see D.E. Aune, “Recent Readings of Paul in Relation to Justification by Faith,” in id. (ed.), Rereading Paul Together: Protestant and Catholic Perspectives on Justification (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2006) 188–245. See the varied critique of S. Sandmel, “Parallelomania,” JBL 81 (1962) 1–13 (8–11). Strecker refers to Sandmel’s article in his brief discussion of Strack & Billerbeck (Strecker, “Das Göttinger Projekt,” 245, n. 4). Almqvist, Plutarch und Das Neue Testament, 145.

62

aune

the very first page of his monograph: “As a typical Greek, Plutarch’s religious orientation was lived in a world completely different from that of the New Testament authors.”52 After emphasizing major differences, Almqvist concludes: “Under these circumstances, parallels from Plutarch do not play a central role for understanding the New Testament.”53 It is now apparent that Almqvist was motivated by the non-historical ideological conviction of the inherent superiority of Christianity to other forms of religiosity in the Greco-Roman world. While the author claims that religiously and ethically Plutarch offers little for understanding the New Testament,54 it is ironic that the two volumes edited by Hans Dieter Betz focus precisely on the two themes of Plutarch’s theological and ethical writings reflecting a dramatic change in perspective.

Bibliography Almqvist, H., Plutarch und das Neue Testament: Ein Beitrag zum Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti (Uppsala: Appelbergs Boktryckeri/Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1946). Aune, D.E., “The Use of the Term ‘Magic’ as a Socio-Religious Category in the Study of the Greco-Roman World and Early Christianity,” in S.K. Black (ed.), To Set at Liberty: Essays on Early Christianity and Its Social World in Honor of John H. Elliott (Sheffield: Phoenix, 2014) 15–26. Aune, D.E., “Recent Readings of Paul in Relation to Justification by Faith,” in id. (ed.), Rereading Paul Together: Protestant and Catholic Perspectives on Justification (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2006) 188–245. Baltes, M., “Die Schriften in Plutarchs Moralia,” in H. Cancik & H. Schneider (eds.), Der Neue Pauly: Enzyklopädie der Antike, 16 vols. (Stuttgart/Weimar: Metzler, 1996–2003) 9.1167–1170. Beck, M. (ed.), A Companion to Plutarch (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014). Berger, K. & Colpe, C. (eds.), Religionsgeschichtliches Textbuch zum Neuen Testament (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1987). Betz, H.D. (ed.), Plutarch’s Ethical Writings and Early Christian Literature (SCHNT 4, Leiden: Brill, 1978). Betz, H.D. (ed.), Plutarch’s Theological Writings and Early Christian Literature(SCHNT3, Leiden: Brill, 1975).

52 53 54

Almqvist, Plutarch und Das Neue Testament, 1. Almqvist, Plutarch und Das Neue Testament, 2. Almqvist, Plutarch und Das Neue Testament, 2.

why compare plutarch and the new testament?

63

Betz, H.D., Lukan von Samosata und das Neue Testament: Religionsgeschichtliche und Paränetische Parallelen. Ein Beitrag zum Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti (TU 76, Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1961). Boring, M.E., Berger, K. & Colpe, C. (eds.), The Hellenistic Commentary to the New Testament (Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 1995). Böttrich, C. & Herzer, J. (eds.), Josephus und das Neue Testament: Wechselseitige Wahrnehmungen. 2. Internationales Symposium zum Corpus Judaeo-Hellenisticum 25.–28. Mai 2006, Greifswald (WUNT 209, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007). Bultmann, R., “Ist voraussetzungslose Exegese möglich?,” in id., Glauben und Verstehen: Gesammelte Aufsätze von Rudolf Bultmann, 4 vols. (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1962) 3.142–150 (originally published in ThZ 13 [1957] 409–417). Deines, R., Herzer, J. & Niebuhr K.-W. (eds.). Neues Testament und hellenistisch-jüdische Alltagskultur. 3. Internationales Symposium zum Corpus Judaeo-Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti, 21.–24. Mai 2009, Leipzig (WUNT 274, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011). Deines, R. & Niebuhr K.-W. (eds.), Philo und das Neue Testament: Wechselseitige Wahrnehmungen. 1. Internationales Symposium zum Corpus Judaeo-Hellenisticum 1.–4. Mai 2003, Eisenach/Jena (WUNT 172, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004). Delling, G., “Zum Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti,” ZNW 54 (1963) 1–15. Elliott, J.K., “Matthäus 1–10,” NovT 56 (2014) 221–228. Elliott, J.K., “Texte zum Markusevangelium,” NovT 52 (2010) 198. Ellis, E.E., “Texte zum Johannesevangelium,” Southwestern Journal of Theology 45 (2003) 92–93. Horsley, G.H. (ed.), New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity, vols. 1–5 (North Ryde: Ancient History Documentary Research Center, 1981–1989). Judge, E.A., “Preface,” in G.H. Horsley (ed.), New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity, vol. 1 (North Ryde: Ancient History Documentary Research Center, 1981) iv–v. Klauck, H.-J., “Texte zum Johannesevangelium,” BiZ 47 (2003) 127–128. Koet, B.J., “Texte zum Markusevangelium,” Bijdragen 70 (2009) 472–473. Kümmel, W.G., The New Testament: The History of the Investigation of Its Problems (Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 1972). Kuhn, T.S., The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1962). Llewelyn, S.R. (ed.), New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity, vols. 6–10 (North Ryde: Ancient History Documentary Research Center, 1992–2012). Malherbe, A.J., “Hellenistic Moralists and the New Testament,” ANRW ii.26.1 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1992) 267–333. Martin, R.P., “Approaches to New Testament Exegesis,” in I.H. Marshall (ed.), New Testament Interpretation: Essays on Principles and Methods (Exeter: Wipf & Stock, 1977) 220–251. Moulton, J.H. & Milligan, G., The Vocabulary of the Greek New Testament Illustrated from

64

aune

the Papyri and Other Non-Literary Sources (Grand Rapids, MI: Ancient History Documentary Research Center, 1980, reprint of the 1930 edition). O’Neil, E.N., “Review of Plutarch’s Theological Writings and Early Christian Literature (H.D. Betz),” JBL 94 (1975) 631–633. Oberforcher, R., “Texte zum Johannesevangelium,” ZKTh 124 (2002) 239. Pelling, C.B.R. & Heinze, T., “Plutarchos: Leben und Werküberblick,” in H. Cancik & H. Schneider (eds.), Der Neue Pauly: Enzyklopädie der Antike, 16 vols. (Stuttgart/Weimar: Metzler, 1996–2003) 9.1159–1160. Sanders, E.P., Paul and Palestinian Judaism: A Comparison of Patterns of Religion (Philadelphia, PA: Augsburg Fortress, 1977). Sandmel, S., “Parallelomania,” JBL 81 (1962) 1–13. Schaller, B., “Paul Billerbecks ‘Kommentar Zum Neuen Testament aus Talmud und Midrasch’: Wege und Abwege, Leistung und Fehlleistung christlicher Judaistic,” in L. Doering et al. (eds.), Judaistik und neutestamentliche Wissenschaft: Standorte, Grenzen, Beziehungen (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2008) 61–84. Schnelle, U. & Labahn, M. (eds.), Neuer Wettstein: Texte zum Neuen Testament aus Griechentum und Hellenismus 1/1.2–1: Texte zum Matthäusevangelium (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2013). Schnelle, U. & Labahn, M. (eds.), Neuer Wettstein: Texte zum Neuen Testament aus Griechentum und Hellenismus 1/1.1: Texte zum Markusevangelium (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2008). Schnelle, U. & Strecker, G. (eds.), Neuer Wettstein: Texte zum Neuen Testament aus Griechentum und Hellenismus 1/2: Texte zum Johannesevangelium (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2001). Seelig, G., Religionsgeschichtliche Methode in Vergangenheit und Gegenwart: Studien zur Geschichte und Methode des religionsgeschichtlichen Vergleichs in der neutestamentlichen Wissenschaft (Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte 7, Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2001). Seelig, G., “Einführung,” in U. Schnelle & G. Strecker (eds.), Neuer Wettstein: Texte zum Neuen Testament aus Griechentum und Hellenismus 2/1: Texte zur Briefliteratur und zur Johannesapokalypse (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 1996) ix–xxiii. Strack, H.L. & Billerbeck, P., Kommentar zum Neuen Testament aus Talmud und Midrasch, 6 vols. (Munich: C.H. Beck, 1961, 3rd ed.). Schnelle, U. & Strecker, G. (eds.), Neuer Wettstein: Texte zum Neuen Testament aus Griechentum und Hellenismus 2/1: Texte zur Briefliteratur und zur Johannesapokalypse (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 1996). Strecker, G., “Das Göttinger Projekt ‘Neuer Wettstein,’” ZNW 83 (1992) 245–252. Unnik, W.C. van, “Words Come to Life: The Work for the ‘Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti,’” NovT 13 (1971) 199–216. Weber, F.W., Jüdische Theologie auf Grund des Talmud und verwandter Schriften: Gemeinfasslich dargestellt (Leipzig: Dörffling & Franke, 1897, 2nd ed.).

why compare plutarch and the new testament?

65

Weiss, J., Jesus’ Proclamation of the Kingdom of God (Philadelphia, PA: Augsburg Fortress, 1971). Wettstein, J.J., Novum Testamentum Graecum, 2 vols. (Graz: Akademische Drucks- und Verlagsanstalt, 1962, reprint of the 1751–1752 edition). White, L.M. & Fitzgerald, J.T., “Quod est comparandum: The Problem of Parallels,” in J.T. Fitzgerald, T.H. Olbricht & L.M. White (eds.), Early Christianity and Classical Culture: Comparative Studies in Honor of Abraham J. Malherbe (NovTSup 110, Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2003) 13–39. Williams, M.A., Rethinking ‘Gnosticism’: An Argument for Dismantling a Dubious Category (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1996).

chapter 3

Plutarch’s Monotheism and the New Testament Frederick E. Brenk

1

General Principles

Like many of his contemporaries, Plutarch could speak at times polytheistically and at times monotheistically.1 The monotheistic aspect is usually in the context of an exposition of Middle-Platonic philosophy or theology, with the main reference being ‘God’ or ‘the divine.’2 Apparent monotheism also appears elsewhere as, for instance, in his Lives and in sections of the Moral Essays which are not strictly philosophical or theological.3 Where divine intervention or the supernatural is involved, the subject is usually theos (‘God’), to theion (the divine), to daimonion (the supernatural), or more rarely, ‘the gods’. Van Nuffelen in his book, Rethinking the Gods. Philosophical Readings of Religion in the PostHellenistic Period, sees in Plutarch and other authors of his time a rather strict

1 The starting point for many has been M. Frede, “Monotheism and Pagan Philosophy in Later Antiquity,” in P. Athanassiadi & M. Frede (eds.), Pagan Monotheism in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999) 69–80. See the comments on this book by J.A. North, “Pagans, Polytheists, and the Pendulum,” in J.A. North & S.R.F. Price (eds.), The Religious History of the Roman Empire: Pagans, Jews, and Christians (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011) 479– 504 and the response by M. Frede, “The Case for Pagan Monotheism in Greek and Roman Antiquity,” in S. Mitchell & P. Van Nuffelen (eds.), One God: Pagan Monotheism in the Roman Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010) 53–81. See also M.V. Cerutti, “‘Pagan Monotheism’? Towards a Historical Typology,” in S. Mitchell & P. Van Nuffelen (eds.), Monotheism between Pagans and Christians in Late Antiquity (Leuven/Walpole: Peeters, 2010) 15–32; and M. Edwards, “Review of Polymnia Athanassiadi & Michael Frede (eds.), Pagan Monotheism in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999),” JThS 51 (2000) 339–342, who argues against the idea of “pagan monotheism,” claiming that it does not represent a cult. 2 On Plutarch’s God in general, see F. Ferrari, “Der Gott Plutarchs und der Gott Platons,” in R. Hirsch-Luipold (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch: Götterbilder—Gottesbilder— Weltbilder (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2005) 13–26; and in the same volume, F.E. Brenk, “Plutarch’s Middle-Platonic God: About to Enter (or Remake) the Academy” 27–50; J. Opsomer, “Demiurges in Early Imperial Platonism,” 51–100, and R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Der eine Gott bei Philon von Alexandrien und Plutarch,” 141–168. 3 See, e.g., F.E. Brenk, “Plutarch and Pagan Monotheism,” in L. Roig Lanzillota & I. Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse of Late Antiquity (Leiden: Brill, 2012) 73–84 (esp. 78–84); and in the same volume, L. Roig Lanzillotta, “Plutarch’s Idea of God in the Religious and Philosophical Context of Late Antiquity,” 137–150 (esp. 149–150).

© Frederick E. Brenk, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004505070_005

plutarch’s monotheism and the new testament

67

hierarchy of spiritual beings, modeled on the structure of the Roman Empire.4 Van Nuffelen’s scheme, however, appears to be henotheistic rather than monotheistic, that is, with a major god like Zeus or Jupiter at the top of the hierarchy. Boulogne presents something similar but with a different type of divine being at the top. His interpretation is weakened by failing to distinguish Plutarch’s thought from that of a persona in a dialogue, and by being very synthetic, presenting matter from different dialogues and treatises, and even different speakers, without making proper distinctions. He describes Plutarch’s theology as both monotheistic and as “an inclusive henotheism.”5 However, he does not mean henotheism as one god being a superior among equals in the Homeric sense. Rather, he draws on the supreme Middle-Platonic God of The E at Delphi. He also draws, in a different way, on On Isis and Osiris. The polytheistic gods lead, even if imperfectly, to the unique divinity “who governs the universe and gives life.” The gods, however, are not facets of the divine being. Rather, they are symbolic representations of the forms of experience that different societies regard as the sensible manifestations of the divine being.6 The criterion for distinguishing the divine from the daimonic is henology (in Boulogne’s terminology, a theology which includes a God who is both unique and without parts). In this sense Plutarch offers in his view an authentic monotheism, theologically based on a dualism which prevents God from being the source of evil. Rather than a condemnation of polytheism, however, in his view, Plutarch’s monotheism seems to be a purification of it. Therefore, Boulogne tends to prefer the term henotheism to monotheism, since it is “a monotheism which presents diverse polytheisms as its offerings.”7 Plutarch, thus, in his view, defends a position that is both traditionalist and rationalist. All the religious traditions are useful, even indispensable for knowledge of the divine, but though such traditions invite us to reflect upon them, we have to go beyond them. It is up to philosophers to separate truth from falsehood in the various religions.8 Hirsch-Luipold states something similar. In Plutarch’s theology there are two elements. One is the Middle-Platonic God, the religious-philosophical idea of God, and the other is 4 See his chapter 8, “Plutarch: A Benevolent Hierarchy of Gods and Men,” 157–158. R. HirschLuipold, Plutarchs Denken in Bildern: Studien zur literarischen, philosophischen und religiösen Funktion des Bildhaften (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), sees rather an asymmetric dualism, that is one God against negative, inferior forces in the world (203–211). 5 J. Boulogne, “L’ unité multiple de Dieu chez Plutarch,” RPhA 22.1 (2004) 95–106 (96). 6 Boulogne, “L’ unité multiple,” 101–102. 7 Boulogne, “L’unité multiple,” 103. See also J. Dillon, “Aspects de exègese dualiste de Platon par Plutarque,” in X. Brouillette & A. Giavatto (eds.), Les dialogues platoniciens chez Plutarque: Stratégies et méthodes exégétiques (Leuven: Leuven University Press 2011) 65–74. 8 Boulogne, “L’ unité multiple,” 104–105.

68

brenk

the authoritative tradition (using the recent term, ‘lived religion’) which is also part of theological discourse, and which remains necessary. One of the difficulties for those who refuse to accept the idea of ‘pagan monotheism,’ is that Graeco-Romans did not seem to worship ‘God,’ or the philosophers’ God, but only individual gods.9 Jews and Christians accept other spiritual beings, such as angels and demons, but at least the official theology does not accept worship of these beings. Graeco-Romans, however, did worship all sorts of spiritual beings: gods, daimones, heroes, and the like, but it is difficult to find evidence for them worshipping a philosophical God. The existence of other spiritual beings does not prevent scholars such as Hurtado and Versnel from considering Jews, Christians, and certain Graeco-Romans as monotheists.10 Hirsch-Luipold uses the term ‘polylatric monotheism.’11 Undoubtedly the existence of many gods would have influenced Plutarch, who stressed the patrios pistis, the ancestral or inherited religion. However, at the end of On the E at Delphi, it is strongly suggested that the worshippers at Delphi should direct their worship not to the mythical Apollo or Apollo identified with the Sun, but rather to the philosophical-theological God of Middle-Platonism, who is identified with Being and with the One, who has created the world, and who preserves it in being through His providence.12 As Opsomer puts it: “Ammonius” indeed hypostasizes ‘being’ and ‘the one’ and declares them to be identical. This One-Being is god and the appropriate object of worship.13 That worship also seems implied by the religious setting of the dialogue, and this is all the more true if we accept Hirsch-Luipold’s emphasis on the personal and soteriological

9 10

11

12 13

See, e.g., F.E. Brenk, “Philo and Plutarch on the Nature of God,” SPhiloA 26 (2014) 79–92 (79–81). Brenk, “Philo and Plutarch,” 82–84, citing L.W. Hurtado, One God, One Lord: Early Christian Devotion and Ancient Jewish Monotheism (London: T&T Clark, 1988, 2nd ed. 1998) 27; and H.S. Versnel, Coping with the Gods: Wayward Readings in Greek Theology (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2011) 241. 244. 255. 267. See R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Viele Bilder—ein Gott: Plutarchs polylatrischer Monotheismus,” in N. Hömke et al. (eds.), Bilder von dem Einen Gott: Die Rhetorik in monotheistischen Gottesdarstellungen der Spätantike (Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter, 2016) 43–68 (esp. 44–46. 60–63), where he argues for this terminology at some length, and R. Hirsch-Luipold, “The Dividing Line: Theological/Religious Arguments in Plutarch’s Anti-Stoic Polemics,” in J. Opsomer et al. (eds.), A Versatile Gentleman: Consistency in Plutarch’s Writings (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2016) 17–36 (25). See also R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Plutarch,” RAC 27 (2016) 1009– 1037, esp. “Gott und die Götter, Monotheismus und traditionelle Religion,” 1024–1027. See, e.g., Brenk, “Philo and Plutarch,” 92. J. Opsomer, “M. Annius Ammonius: A Philosophical Profile,” in M. Bonazzi & J. Opsomer (eds.), The Origins of the Platonic System: Platonisms of the Early Empire and their Philosophical Contexts (Leuven: Peeters, 2009) 123–186 (159 and n. 173).

plutarch’s monotheism and the new testament

69

bent of Plutarch’s theology.14 Plutarch and some other thinkers could also compartmentalize their concept of the divine, speaking in one context, of gods, in another of God or of the divine.15 Nonetheless, in both On the E at Delphi and On Isis and Osiris, Plutarch’s thought is not completely compartmentalized.16 He envisages the supreme Middle-Platonic god in a relationship with other spiritual beings, in the first case mentioning traditional gods, though mostly in a poetic context, in the other referring to all other spiritual beings as “his (that is, God’s) subservient powers” (δυνάμεις ὑπουργοί), hardly a hierarchy, since he treats them as a group (393E–394C; 377F–378A).17

2

Some Points of Similarity

On a number of points Plutarch’s monotheism accords with that of the New Testament, as Van Kooten has indicated.18 He notes how Plutarch (Numa 8)

14

15

16

17

18

R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Religion and Myth,” in M. Beck (ed.), A Companion to Plutarch (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014) 163–176 (167) and Hirsch-Luipold, “The Dividing Line,” esp. 19–20, 35. See, e.g., P. Van Nuffelen, “Philo of Alexandria: Challenging Graeco-Roman Culture,” in id., Rethinking the Gods: Philosophical Readings of Religion in the Post-Hellenistic Period (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011) 179–199; also, Cerutti, “Pagan Monotheism?” 28, who speaks of a “rigidly vertical and hierarchical structure,” something which the first Middle-Platonists devised and which is found in the later formulations of the Neoplatonists. In On the Delays of the Divine Vengeance (De sera num.), Plutarch employs ὁ θεός 19 times, τὸ θεῖον 4 times, τὸ δαίμονιον 3 times, and θεοί 7 times (549D, 549F, 554D, 556E, 560B, 566C, 568A). However, in one of the occurrences θεοί is not used by the main speaker, Plutarch, as a persona (560B). Another occurrence is in a quotation from Euripides (556E), and another in a proverbial expression (549D). In one case the occurrence in our text is only a conjecture by Pohlenz for ἐν Δελφοῖς (566C), rejected by the new Bernardakis (P.D. Bernardakis & H.G. Ingenkamp [eds.], Plutarchi Chaeronensis Moralia recognovit Gregorius N. Bernardakis. vol. iii [Athens: Academy of Athens. Research Centre for Greek and Latin Literature, 2010], 462), and another occurrence is in a satirical context à la Lucian (Nero’s punishment, 568A). A more realistic count for θεοί is 3 times. The concept of “powers” resembles that in Philo of Alexandria. See C. Termini, Le potenze di Dio: Studio su δύναμις in Filone di Alessandria (Rome: Pubblicazioni Agostiniane, 2000) and S.D. Mackie, “Seeing God in Philo of Alexandria: The Logos, the Powers, or the Existent One?” SPhiloA 21 (2009) 25–47 (esp. 29–30). Versnel, “Coping with the Gods,” 239–308 (esp., 267–268 and 304–307), has shown how Greeks could believe in both one supreme God and many gods, that is simultaneously be both monotheists and polytheists, without sensing a contradiction. On this see G. Van Kooten, “Pagan and Jewish Monotheism According to Varro, Plutarch, and St Paul: The Aniconic, Monotheistic Beginnings of Rome’s Pagan Cult—Romans 1:19–

70

brenk

praises Numa’s supposed worship of a supreme aniconic God. Plutarch equates this with “the first (principle of being?) (τὸ πρῶτον), invisible, uncreated, and νοητόν (belonging to the intelligible order).” Van Kooten sees Paul in the New Testament as using a Christian version of a Roman argument for a supreme God who should not be represented in images, namely that the original GraecoRoman religion was like Christianity but went into decline.19 Among the shared beliefs is that in an all-powerful, eternal God, who alone has the fullness of being and good. This same God also created the world, keeps it in existence, and rules it with His providence. The goal of life is a vision of God in the next life described in terms similar to that of the Platonic “blessed vision and sight” of the Form of the Good and Beautiful.20 Though the God of the Old Testament is eternal, Plutarch’s God, or at least that of his teacher, Ammonios in On the E at Delphi, lives in what appears to be instantaneous eternity.21 The New Testament speaks of God as Father, Son, and Spirit, while at the same time expressing a belief in one God, not three Gods. It does speak of divine filiation, in which the Son in his human nature becomes a kind of visible image of God. In Platonism shortly before the time of Plutarch, we find something similar to the New Testament doctrine of the Trinity, though with a belief in two or three gods. As developed by Eudoros of Alexandria there is a higher and a lower God.22 In

19 20 21 22

25 in a Roman Context,” in A. Hilhorst et al. (eds.), Flores Florentino: Dead Sea Scrolls and other Early Jewish Studies in Honour of Florentino Garcia Martinez (Leiden: Brill, 2007) 631– 651. Van Kooten, “Pagan and Jewish Monotheism,” 645. 634–641. 647–649. Phaid. 250B–C: “But at that former time they saw beauty shining in brightness … they saw the blessed sight and vision” (μακάριαν ὄψιν καὶ θέαν) etc.; cf. Pl., Politeia (Republic), 517B–C. For difficulties with Ammonios’ description of eternity, which combines new ideas with traditional ones, see Opsomer, “M. Annius Ammonius,” 157. For the fragment of Eudoros (Simp., in phys. 181.7–30), see C. Mazzarelli, “Raccolta e interpretazione delle testimonianze e dei frammenti del medioplatonico Eudoro di Alessandria,” RFN 77 (1985) 197–209. 535–555, especially regarding Eudoros T 3–5; and J. Whittaker, “Ammonius on the Delphic E,” CQ 19 (1969) 185–192 (189). On his doctrine, see M. Bonazzi, “Eudorus of Alexandria and Early Imperial Platonism,” in R.W. Sharples & R. Sorabji (eds.), Greek and Roman Philosophy 100bc–200ad (London: University of London Press, 2007) 365–378; and M. Bonazzi, “Towards Transcendence: Philo and the Renewal of Platonism in the Early Imperial Age,” in F. Alesse (ed.), Philo of Alexandria and Post-Aristotelian Philosophy (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2008) 233–252 (236–238). For divergence from Eudoros in Ammonios’ speech, see Opsomer, “M. Annius Ammonius,” 162–163 and 170–172. More recently, F. Ferrari has treated this question in “La construction du platonisme dans le De E apud Delphos de Plutarque,” in Brouillette & Giavatto (eds.), Les dialogues platoniciens chez Plutarque, 47–62. He now would suggest that Eudoros was not the original inspiration of Plutarch, but that another Middle-Platonist might have written a commentary on the Timaios, which was then used by Eudoros, Seneca (Ep. 58 and 65),

plutarch’s monotheism and the new testament

71

later formulations such as that in Numenios, there is a First God, a Second God, and a Third God, the last of which is identified with the universe.23 Two excellent texts for studying Plutarch’s monotheism are On the E at Delphi and On Isis and Osiris.24 More weight should be given to On Isis and Osiris even if its theology is veiled in allegorical interpretation.25 First, it is written as a treatise, not a dialogue, in which a person’s speech may not completely represent Plutarch’s own convictions, if at all. Second, On Isis and Osiris, undoubtedly a later work, represents his more mature and probably final thoughts on the subject. Most commentators on Plutarch’s monotheism have seized upon the speech of Ammonios, which concludes On the E at Delphi (391E–394C).26 However, Ammonios makes such a tremendous distinction between God and mortals, that human beings are virtually denied any real being, and the world is represented as in a state of instability and flux far beyond what Plutarch holds elsewhere.27 Ammonios does not speak of a First and a Second God, only the latter of whom is engaged in the world, but he depicts the god Apollo, equated with the sun or Sun, as in some sense only an image of the highest God, who alone is real being. In this sense, the polytheistic god Apollo, or the Sun, bears some relationship to the role of the Second Person of the Trinity in John. The Son in John is not described as an image (εἰκών) of the Father, though he is in Paul. Yet, in Ammonios’ speech, Apollo, or the Sun, is not God and is not the

23

24 25 26

27

and Plutarch. Ferrari also believes in a close correspondence between Ammonios’ thought and that of Plutarch himself (60–62). On this, see besides Opsomer, “Demiurges in Early Imperial Platonism”: C.S. O’Brien, The Demiurge in Ancient Thought: Secondary Gods and Divine Mediators (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), esp. 83–115 and for Numenios, 139–168. For Plutarch’s monotheism, see, e.g., Brenk, “Plutarch and Pagan Monotheism.” For the images, etc., see Hirsch-Luipold, Plutarchs Denken in Bildern, 174–224. See now T. Thum, Plutarchs Dialog De E apud Delphos: Eine Studie (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013) 4–11, who attempts to minimize the importance and religiosity of Ammonios’ speech; and the commentary of H. Obsieger, Plutarch: De E apud Delphos/Über das Epsilon am Apolltempel in Delphi. Einführung, Ausgabe und Kommentar (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 2013). For a criticism of Thum and Obsieger, see Hirsch-Luipold, “The Dividing Line,” 24, n. 32; F.E. Brenk, “Review of T. Thum, Plutarchs Dialog De E apud Delphos: Eine Studie (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013),” Gnomon 88 (2016) 69–71; S. Teodorsson, “Review of Hendrick Obsieger, Plutarch: De E apud Delphos. Über das Epsilon am Apollontempel in Delphi (Palingenesia 101 [Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 2013]),” Gnomon 88 (2016) 700–703. On the theology of the speech see especially Bonazzi, “Towards Transcendence,” 236– 239; Opsomer, “M. Annius Ammonius;” Whittaker, “Ammonius on the Delphic E.” Bonazzi notes that Philo apparently did not adopt any of Eudoros’s most distinctive innovations (225). See Opsomer, “M. Annius Ammonius,” 155, for Ammonios’ negative depiction of the world and existence in time.

72

brenk

Demiurge as in some Middle-Platonic schemes. Some scholars speak of Apollo as the highest God in the speech, but Plutarch makes it very clear that the god worshipped as Apollo is only a weak image of the real God (393D–E). That is, people come to Delphi to worship Apollo, but the real God is something quite different, hinted at in the name Apollo. The Greek name, Apollon, interpreted as “not many,” (a-polla) is the best name for God, but the Apollo of popular religion, or the Sun, does not have this quality and is not the supreme God. The real God is a Middle-Platonic God equated with Being and by implication with the Platonic Good itself, and also with the Platonic One. He is both unique and without a multiplicity of parts.28 The true Apollo, the god of popular belief, is something different, and even then only to be associated with the beneficent aspects of the sun (394A). Two further points should be noticed in the speech. Rather than some sort of divine hierarchy, such as envisaged by Van Nuffelen, other gods, with the exception of Apollo, are not mentioned except in an allegorical or poetic context, and even much of the talk about Apollo is allegorical (394A).29 One can easily get the impression that the polytheistic gods are of no real importance, or at least inconsequential in comparison with the supreme God. Logically from the premises offered, like human beings, the gods do not have ‘real being.’ Finally, as mentioned, the supreme God is not associated with the destructive forces of the sun, as sometimes is Apollo, or the Sun, of popular religion. Ammonios tells us we must awake from “seeing the god as though in our dreams” (τὸν θεὸν ὀνειροπολοῦντας), that is, we must cast aside our image of Apollo/the Sun god in

28

29

Opsomer, “M. Annius Ammonius,” seems to have some doubts about “one” (“One”) indicating that this God is the only god. He suggests that it more probably means that God is unique in the sense that no other being is like him (160 and n. 183). However, the passage in On Isis and Osiris on God and his powers (378A) suggests that Plutarch understood the One in a monotheistic way. As identified with the sun, the image of God, and as Phoibos (Phoebus) interpreted as “pure and undefiled.” (393C). On the sun (Sun) and Apollo in the De E, see X. Brouillette, “Apollon au-delà de tout ce qui est visible: Plutarque et République 6, 509b,” in id. & Giavatto (eds.), Les dialogues platoniciens chez Plutarque, 29–46. He sees the distinction between Apollo and the supreme God as constructed upon the sun as the visible image of the Idea of the Good in the Republic (41–46). He sees this formulation in the background of On the Obsolescence of Oracles (De def. or.) 413C and in Platonic Questions (Quaest.Plat.) 8, 1006E–1007A. See also G. Roskam, “Plutarch’s Theonomous Ethics and Christianity: A Few Thoughts on a Much-Discussed Problem,” in R. Hirsch-Luipold & L. Roig Lanzillotta (eds.), Plutarch’s Religious Landscapes (Leiden: Brill, 2020) 84–114 (92–95). For seeing the Son as seeing the Father in John (12:45), see J. Beutler, A Commentary on the Gospel of John (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2017), tr. by M. Tait of Das Johannesevangelium: Kommentar (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 2013), esp. 344–345.

plutarch’s monotheism and the new testament

73

popular religion, in order “to contemplate the real appearance and true nature of God” (θεᾶσθαι τὸ ὕπαρ αὐτοῦ καὶ τὴν οὐσίαν) and thus enjoy a vision of the supreme Platonic God (393D).30 This God in Ammonios’ speech is One, the only thing that constitutes real being, and according to most interpreters, lives in instantaneous eternity (393A–394C).31 A fundamental methodological principle in interpreting Plutarch is to distinguish the author from any of his speakers in a dialogue, even when Plutarch appears as a persona himself, though the context may play a role in the particular opinion expressed. Nowhere else in his writings does Plutarch create such an extreme distance between the being of God and that of humans or treat them and the world as in a constant state of flux.32 In fact, in his Platonic Questions 2 (1000E–1001C), Whyever Did Plato Call the Highest God the Father and Maker of All Things?, Plutarch refutes this very idea of an infinite distance between the being of God and that of human beings. Here Plato is treating God not as our father but as the father of the world soul. By analogy, however, he is also our father. Since the World Soul receives some of God’s intelligence, God can be called its father, and not just its maker. In modern terms we might say that God is our father, since, through our participation in intelligence, we have a piece of the divine DNA. Next, in Ammonios’ speech, there is the stress on human beings living in constant flux, in consequence, denying real being to them. He goes so far as to declare that they do not even remain the same person throughout life (392A–E). This runs directly counter to a statement in On Tranquility of Mind (473D–E). Moreover, as we have seen, God is closely identified with the One in Ammonios’ speech. In a similar passage in On Isis and Osiris, a number of descriptions of Osiris, the allegorical stand-in for the supreme God, are given, such as the First, Lord, and the like, but One or the

30 31

32

In the Loeb: “… the waking vision of him, what he truly is.” For the Greek text, see Bernardakis, Plutarchi Moralia, 24. Thum, Plutarchs Dialog De E, argues that at 393A it is eternity “of which there is no earlier nor later” and “being one (εἷς ὤν) has with one now completely filled forever,” not God, as often understood and translated (251–253). However, the primary subject of the paragraph and of the main clause is God, as Opsomer, “M. Annius Ammonius,” argues (156–159). On the difference between “Ammonios” and Plutarch, see Opsomer, “M. Annius Ammonius,” 172–179. See also Thum, Plutarchs Dialog de E, 7–11, and for the speech of Ammonios in general, esp. 243–355. Thum does not give much weight to the speech. Obsieger, Plutarch: De E, 38–45, downplays Ammonios’ speech, treating it as not philosophically or theologically serious. For the separation between Ammonios and Plutarch, see F.E. Brenk, “Plutarch’s Flawed Characters: The Personae of the Dialogues,” in Opsomer et al. (eds.), A Versatile Gentleman, 89–100 (91–93); “Plutarch’s Middle-Platonic God,”

74

brenk

One is conspicuously absent (352A).33 In fact, Ammonios’ description of God as One is unparalleled in Plutarch, except in the sense of God being unique.34 Something similar to a popular god being an image of the supreme God, as in On the E at Delphi also appears in On Isis and Osiris. As in On the E at Delphi, the popular god is interpreted allegorically to yield a monotheistic Middle-Platonic God. In contrast to On the E at Delphi, in the treatise on Egyptian religion this God is neither identified with perfect Being nor as One or as the One, except in the sense of being unique.35 As in the case of Christ in the New Testament, we find in the figure of Osiris, the internal paradox and tension created in the life of a figure who is divine, yet capable of the most horrible humiliation, suffering, and death. In so far as a trinity appears, it is the common Egyptian triad of divine father, mother, and son, interpreted allegorically as the logos which begets the universe (Osiris, the father), the material cause, or receptacle (Isis, the mother), and the created cosmos (Horos, the son), the last of which possesses both a body and an intellect (373E–F). What brings the monotheism of On Isis and Osiris close to that of the New Testament, then, is the appearance of a divine figure who suffers and dies like a human being but is still a god, and is later seen as allegorically representing the supreme God. In Plutarch’s version Osiris suffers, dies, rises again, and reigns in heaven. In Egyptian religion through much of its history, Osiris is par excellence the god of the dead and of the underworld, and is even most frequently represented as a mummy. Yet, Plutarch claims that this god “is actually very far removed from the earth.” He is the leader of the souls of the deceased when they pass over to “the formless, invisible, dispassionate, and holy kingdom” (that is, the intelligible world of Plato) to receive a vision of perfect beauty (to behold insatiably “the beauty [κάλλος] which is to human beings ineffable and unutterable” 382E–F).36

33 34 35 36

and “ ‘In Learned Conversation:’ Plutarch’s Symposiac Literature and the Elusive Authorial Voice,” in J.R. Ferreira et al. (eds.), Symposion and Philanthropia in Plutarch (Coimbra: Coimbra University Press, 2009) 51–61. See Opsomer, “M. Annius Ammonius,” 174. In On the Generation of the Soul (De an. procr.), Plutarch does not describe God as One, but, then, he says almost nothing about God. Also Opsomer, “M. Annius Ammonius,” 172–179. He does mention at 371D that the Pythagoreans include “the one” as under the good, along with the determinate, permanent, straight, odd, square, right-handed, and bright. The solarization of Egyptian religion, however, which included Osiris, took place before Plutarch.

plutarch’s monotheism and the new testament

3

75

Plutarch’s Monotheism in On Isis and Osiris

In Plutarch, who rejects Stoic allegorical interpretation, the creation of the world is complex, resulting from opposing influences. The predominance rests with the better, but evil cannot completely be eradicated, since it is innate within the body and soul of the universe (371A).37 Here we have intimations of parallels with Christ’s struggle against evil as depicted in the New Testament, sometimes described as the devil, the darkness, or the powers of this world. Besides being the intelligence (nous) and logos of the world soul, Osiris is the “ruler” (ἡγέμων, a word used for the Stoic God) and Lord (kyrios) “of all that is best” (371A–B).38 His adversary Typhon (Seth), the irrational part of the world soul, is associated with what is diseased and disorderly, and with natural disasters (371B). Following the myth of Poverty and Resource (Penia and Poros) in Plato’s Symposion (203B–204A), Isis represents the soul longing for perfect beauty.39 Osiris (Resource) is the “first beloved” (ὁ πρῶτος ἐρατός) and desired, the perfect, and self-sufficient (374D). Thus, Osiris is not only in a sense the alpha, the demiurgic logos (the “intelligible” [ὁ νοητός]) (374E–F) which brings order into, that is, creates the world.40 He is also the omega, the goal or telos of the soul (τέλειος, ἐφετός). Osiris as Poros has qualities, not all of which he shares with the universe (Horus). He is the “Good One” (ὁ ἀγαθός), “eternal” (ἀίδιος), “without passions” (ἀπαθής), and “imperishable” (ἄφθαρτος) (374D–E). The text about the “powers,” mentioned above, is very important (377F– 378A). As there is just one moon and one sun for all, but different peoples give them different names, so the gods are the same for all peoples. Only the names are different. But there is really only one God and his sway is universal. There is one logos that governs all, and one “providence” (πρόνοια) which watches over people everywhere. Then, there are “subservient powers” (δυνάμεις ὑπουργοί), that is, the traditional gods and daimones, which are set over all

37 38

39

40

As noted above, Boulogne, “L’ unité multiple,” sees a monotheism built upon a dualistic foundation. There is one God, but he is set against multiple gods and daimones (103–104). Earlier, at 353F–354A, Plutarch describes Osiris as the king and lord of the Egyptians. At 356E, we learn that at his birth a mysterious voice proclaimed: “The lord of all advances to the light.” At 371E, Plutarch relates the eye and scepter of Osiris to Homer’s description of Zeus, indicating that Zeus was the Lord, ruling all, and that he was supreme or highest (ὕπατος) (371F). The Greek word πόρος is translated by Lamb in the LCL as “resource.” LSJ gives “means,” though “resources” in English would be good. Some translations offer “wealth” or “plenty.” The original meaning was “a means of crossing a river, etc.” Already indicated as the beneficent element in a dualistic system, logos “ruling and guiding the universe” (369B–C).

76

brenk

things.41 As noted, the concept seems to be close to Philo’s notion of a supreme God operating through His powers.42 Thom notes how Pseudo-Aristotle’s On the Cosmos, a treatise considered to be of the first century bc, envisages a transcendent God who has created and maintains the world. However, this God does not use “powers” (δυνάμεις) as in Philo and Plutarch, but only his own power (δύναμις) directly.43 Plato employs the term ‘God’ for the Demiurge at least thirteen times in the Timaios, and this would have strongly influenced Plutarch’s conception of a God creating and ruling the universe. Later authors attributed more to Plato than what appears in his published works. According to Aëtios (ca. first century ad), as reported in Stobaios (probably fifth century ad), Plato affirmed that God is the One, single-natured and self-natured, monadic, true Being, the Good, intellect, and Father and Maker. These formulations are close to those in Philo and Plutarch. In Stoicism, God is the intellect ruling the universe. However, Sedley was able to cite a text from Theophrastus, claiming that Plato reduced all to matter, the all-receiving and to another principle, the cause and mover, which he identifies with God and the good (Good?).44 The concept of one God creating and ruling the universe can be related somewhat to Plutarch’s Platonic Question 2, which we have already seen, Whyever Did Plato Call the Highest God the Father and Maker of All Things? (1000E– 1001C). In On Isis and Osiris in spite of contradictory allegorical interpretations of Osiris, in one (377F–378A) the concept of one logos and one providence is in accordance with the cosmological interpretation of the Isis myth. In other passages, however, Osiris allegorically is both God (for example 355E, 369A–B, 379E–F) and the logos (of the universe or of the World Soul) (371A). Plutarch certainly could not have meant this literally, to equate God with the logos of the World Soul or of the universe, something that sounds like Stoic teaching.45 Hirsch-Luipold has shown how Plutarch was influenced by Stoicism, especially 41

42 43

44

45

See Brenk, “Plutarch and Pagan Monotheism,” 79, and “Philo and Plutarch on the Nature of God,” 87–88. For the relationship of the treatise to early Christian literature, see H.D. Betz & E.W. Smith, “De Iside et Osiride (Moralia 351C–384C),” in H.D. Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Theological Writings and Early Christian Literature (Leiden: Brill, 1975) 36–84. For the powers in Philo, see Termini, Le potenze di Dio, and Mackie, “Seeing God in Philo,” esp. 29–30. On this, see J.C. Thom, “The Cosmotheology of De Mundo,” in J.C. Thom (ed.), Cosmic Order and Divine Power: Pseudo Aristotle, On the Cosmos (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014) 107–120 (esp. 110–113, 116). D. Sedley, “The Origins of Stoic God,” in D. Frede & A. Laks (eds.), Traditions of Theology: Studies in Hellenistic Theology, its Background and Aftermath (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2002) 41–84 (42), citing fr. 230 FHS&G5 (= W.W. Fortenbaugh et al. [eds.], Theophrastus of Eresus: Sources for his Life, Writings, Thought and Influence. 2 vols. [Leiden/New York: Brill, 1992]). As noted by O’Brien, The Demiurge in Ancient Thought, 84.

plutarch’s monotheism and the new testament

77

its monistic concept of God. He argues, however, that he drew a line at their interpretation, especially rejecting their immanent, non-personal God, often equated with fate itself. Instead, Hirsch Luipold demonstrates how Plutarch advocated a God who is transcendent, personal, benevolent, and life-giving, who would be the reward of virtuous souls in the next life, in short, a soteriological God.46 O’Brien notes that Plutarch objected to the Stoics making the Demiurge the source of evil, the result of their monistic causality. Such a position would associate God too closely with matter, making Him so constrained by Necessity that he would have no power to initiate something and would be an admission that God is perishable.47 In John’s Gospel, the Son appears both as God and as the Logos which creates the universe. This is quite different from Plutarch’s allegorical-cosmological interpretation of the Isis myth.48 However, Plutarch puts a little distance between the two, God and the logos, speaking of “God” (ὁ θεός), then of the divine logos and providence belonging to the one God. There is a close connection, though, in the sense that the Logos, identified with God, in both cases is a fundamental hermeneutical category which helps to attain the divine truth, for example at De Iside et Osiride 351C–352E.49 Elsewhere, as we have seen, Osiris (God) is treated as containing, or equivalent to, the Good and Beautiful, rather than as the logos. As a summary, one can say that God in On Isis and Osiris, is holy, good, and the essence of beauty, though Plutarch’s language is not very straightforward. Plutarch is a Platonist, in the back of whose mind are things like the Demiurge, the receptacle, the Form of the Good, and the guide of the soul toward the “blessed vision,” ideas originating in such dialogues as the Timaios, Phaidon, Phaidros, and Politeia (Republic). For God as creator, Plutarch builds upon his 46 47 48

49

Hirsch-Luipold, “The Dividing Line,” esp. 19–20, 35. See also in O’Brien, The Demiurge in Ancient Thought, 87–111 (“Plutarch’s Response to Stoic Physics”). O’Brien, The Demiurge in Ancient Thought, 91–93. 94. 96. On the last point Plutarch is unfair to the Stoics. See T. Engberg-Pedersen, “Logos and Pneuma in the Fourth Gospel,” in D.E. Aune & F.E. Brenk (eds.), Greco-Roman Culture and the New Testament: Studies Commemorating the Centennial of the Pontifical Biblical Institute (Leiden: Brill 2012) 27–48, and id., John and Philosophy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017) esp. 63. See also J. Opsomer, “Is Plutarch Really Hostile to the Stoics,” in T. Engberg-Pedersen (ed.), From Stoicism to Platonism: The Development of Philosophy, 100 bce–100 ce (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017) 296–321 (esp. 320–321). So, R. Hirsch-Luipold, Gott wahrnehmen: Die Sinne im Johannesevangelium (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017) 72–73, and id., “Theo-logy in John and in Early Platonism,” in id. & R.M. Calhoun (eds.), The Origins of New Testament Theology: A Dialogue with Hans Dieter Betz (Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, 2020) 127–137 (134).

78

brenk

interpretation in On the Generation of the World Soul in the Timaios. Only when the demiurge injects intelligence into the World Soul, which previously had a “soul” (ψυχή) causing disordered motion but not a “mind” (νοῦς), does the cosmos come into (orderly) existence (with a play on the meaning of “cosmos” [κόσμος] as order).50 However, Plutarch does not explicitly use this cosmological theory of his in On Isis and Osiris. As for moral and religious qualities, in Plutarch’s words, Osiris’ name is a combination of “holy” (ὅσιος) and “sacred” (ἱερός).51 Isis “participates always with this first God and is associated with him in the love of the good and beautiful things about him” (374F–375A).52 What is orderly and good and beneficent is “the image, imitation, and reason (logos) of Osiris” (377A). Things that have life, movement, instinct, and perception have an efflux and portion of “beauty” (κάλλος) “from the intelligent one by whom the universe is guided” (382B–C). In short, the ultimate aim of the cult of Isis and Osiris is knowledge of “the first, the lord of all, and intelligible (νοητός),” whom Isis urges us to seek (352A). So, in the World Soul, intelligence (nous) and reason (logos), the leader and lord of all, is Osiris (371A–B). Isis has an “innate love for the first and most lordly of all, which is identical with the good, and it is this which she desires and pursues.” (372E–F). Osiris does not dwell in the underworld or with the dead (382E–F): “When souls migrate into the realm of the invisible and unseen, the dispassionate and holy, this god becomes their leader and king, since it is on him they are bound to be dependent in their contemplation and yearning for that beauty which is for men unutterable and indescribable. It is for this beauty that Isis always yearns … and fills our earth with all things fair and good that partake of generation” (383A).

4

Conclusion

In conclusion, the two essays, On the E at Delphi and On Isis and Osiris, are dictated by different purposes and present monotheism in somewhat differ50

51

52

H. Cherniss, Plutarch: Moralia 13.1. Platonic Essays (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1976) 137–149 (esp. 147), demonstrated how Plutarch, in his “literal” interpretation, did violence to the Timaios, distorting, omitting, and changing his venerated master’s words. This was necessary to establish his theory of a pre-cosmic soul receiving intellect and, thus, forming the orderly cosmos. Plutarch’s construction of the etymologies of names is similar to that of Philo. On Philo, see L. Grabbe, Etymology in Early Jewish Interpretation: The Hebrew Names in Philo (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1988) and D.T. Runia, “Etymology as an Allegorical Technique in Philo of Alexandria,” SPhiloA 16 (2004) 101–121. See Hirsch-Luipold, Plutarchs Denken in Bildern, 192.

plutarch’s monotheism and the new testament

79

ent ways, neither of which is entirely satisfactory. The one God of On The E at Delphi appears too remote and the other, of On Isis and Osiris, seems too near. In the first, God resembles the First God of Middle-Platonism, equated with Being and the One, absolutely without parts and without motion, in which the difference between God and mortals is stressed. Knowledge of God is interpreted as “Know yourself” (γνῶθι σαυτόν), that is, be aware of the immense gulf between you and the divine. Yet, at the same time, this God has created and holds the universe together with his providence, possessing attributes in later Platonism associated with the Second God. In this respect he is not so distant from human beings. In the second work, On Isis and Osiris, the divine is much nearer. Osiris is seemingly presented in an immanentist formulation, as the logos of the universe or the intelligence of the world soul. Yet Plutarch also corrects this immanentist impression in other passages in which God is the father who transmits his logos to the world soul and to us, that is, as transcendental. God is also the demiurge, and the Good and Beautiful as the telos of the soul after death in a blessed afterlife in the heavens.53 Osiris of the myth, even if interpreted allegorically, in On Isis and Osiris is also a bit too near to earth, an all too human, suffering god, whose rising from the dead and ascent to rule in heaven serves as a model for his worshippers and a basis for eternal salvation (382E–383A). As for On the E at Delphi, even if Plutarch is not “Ammonios” and did not believe like later Platonic philosophers in multiple ‘Gods’ in something like a Christian Trinity, his lines of thought are very suggestive. If Plutarch is not always so clear or consistent, especially as an allegorist, we should not deny him the indulgence he so often granted to other religions. Even if we put aside Ammonios’ speech, we find that especially God (or the divine) but even the gods in Plutarch remain rather distant. In general that is the case of God in the Old Testament, though there are some exceptions. Yet a God both very distant and extremely close, is not that a paradox of the New Testament and of Christianity itself?54

53 54

If not stated very explicitly, at least this is the implication of 374D, 374F–375A, 379E–F, 377F–378A, and 382E–383A. Roskam, “Plutarch’s Theonomous Ethics and Christianity,” using the speech of Ammonios in De E, stresses the distance of God (esp. 92–95), whereas R. Hirsch-Luipold would see the two views as complementary rather than contradictory in both Plutarch and parts of the New Testaments (e.g, Gott wahrnehmen, 75–87 and passim; id., “ὕλη θεολογίας. Religious Lore as Inter‘text’ in Plutarch’s Moralia,” in T. Schmidt et al. [eds.], The Dynamics of Intertextuality in Plutarch [Leiden: Brill, 2020] 525–538 [533–538]).

80

brenk

Bibliography Bernardakis, P.D. & Ingenkamp, H.G. (eds.), Plutarchi Chaeronensis Moralia recognovit Gregorius N. Bernardakis. vol. iii (Athens: Academy of Athens. Research Centre for Greek and Latin Literature, 2010). Betz, H.D. & Smith, E.W., “De Iside et Osiride (Moralia 351C–384C),” in H.D. Betz (ed.), Plutarch’s Theological Writings and Early Christian Literature (SCHNT 3, Leiden: Brill, 1975) 36–84. Beutler, J., A Commentary on the Gospel of John (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2017), tr. by M. Tait of Das Johannesevangelium: Kommentar (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 2013). Bonazzi, M., “Towards Transcendence: Philo and the Renewal of Platonism in the Early Imperial Age,” in F. Alesse (ed.), Philo of Alexandria and Post-Aristotelian Philosophy (Studies in Philo of Alexandria 5, Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2008) 233–252. Bonazzi, M., “Eudorus of Alexandria and Early Imperial Platonism,” in R.W. Sharples & R. Sorabji (eds.), Greek and Roman Philosophy 100 bc-200ad (London: University of London Press, 2007) 365–378. Boulogne, J., “L’unité multiple de Dieu chez Plutarch,” RPhA 22.1 (2004) 95–106. Brenk, F.E., “Plutarch’s Flawed Characters: The Personae of the Dialogues,” in J. Opsomer, G. Roskam & F.G. Titchener (eds.), A Versatile Gentleman: Consistency in Plutarch’s Writings (Plutarchea Hypomnemata, Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2016) 89–100. Brenk, F.E., “Review of T. Thum, Plutarchs Dialog De E apud Delphos: Eine Studie (Ratio Religionis Studien 2, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013),” Gnomon 88 (2016) 69–71. Brenk, F.E., “Philo and Plutarch on the Nature of God,” SPhiloA 26 (2014) 79–92. Brenk, F.E., “Plutarch and Pagan Monotheism,” in L. Roig Lanzillota & I. Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse of Late Antiquity (Ancient Mediterranean and Medieval Texts and Contexts 14, Leiden: Brill, 2012) 73– 84. Brenk, F.E., “‘In Learned Conversation:’ Plutarch’s Symposiac Literature and the Elusive Authorial Voice,” in J.R. Ferreira et al. (eds.), Symposion and Philanthropia in Plutarch (Humanitas Supplementum, Coimbra: Coimbra University Press, 2009) 51–61. Brenk, F.E., “Plutarch’s Middle-Platonic God: About to Enter (or Remake) the Academy,” in R. Hirsch-Luipold (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch: Götterbilder—Gottesbilder—Weltbilder (RVV 54, Berlin: De Gruyter, 2005) 27–50 (reprint in id., With Unperfumed Voice: Studies in Plutarch, in Greek Literature, Religion and Philosophy, and in the New Testament Background [Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 2007] 121–143). Brouillette, X., “Apollon au-delà de tout ce qui est visible: Plutarque et République 6, 509b,” in id. & A. Giavatto (eds.), Les dialogues platoniciens chez Plutarque: Stratégies et méthodes exégétiques (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2011) 29–46.

plutarch’s monotheism and the new testament

81

Cerutti, M.V., “‘Pagan Monotheism’? Towards a Historical Typology,” in S. Mitchell & P. Van Nuffelen (eds.), Monotheism between Pagans and Christians in Late Antiquity (Leuven/Walpole: Peeters, 2010) 15–32. Cherniss, H., Plutarch: Moralia 13.1. Platonic Essays (LCL 427, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1976). Dillon, J., “Aspects de exègese dualiste de Platon par Plutarque,” in X. Brouillette & A. Giavatto (eds.), Les dialogues platoniciens chez Plutarque: Stratégies et méthodes exégétiques (Leuven: Leuven University Press 2011) 65–74. Edwards, M., “Review of Polymnia Athanassiadi & Michael Frede (eds.), Pagan Monotheism in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999),” JThS 51 (2000) 339– 342. Engberg-Pedersen, T., John and Philosophy: A New Reading of the Fourth Gospel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017). Engberg-Pedersen, T., “Logos and Pneuma in the Fourth Gospel,” in D.E. Aune & F.E. Brenk (eds.), Greco-Roman Culture and the New Testament: Studies Commemorating the Centennial of the Pontificial Biblical Institute (SNT 143, Leiden: Brill 2012) 27–48. Ferrari, F., “La construction du platonisme dans le De E apud Delphos de Plutarque,” in X. Brouillette & A. Giavatto (eds.), Les dialogues platoniciens chez Plutarque: Stratégies et méthodes exégétiques (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2011) 47–62. Ferrari, F., “Der Gott Plutarchs und der Gott Platons,” in Hirsch-Luipold (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch, 13–26. Frede, M., “The Case for Pagan Monotheism in Greek and Roman Antiquity,” in S. Mitchell & P. Van Nuffelen (eds.), One God: Pagan Monotheism in the Roman Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010) 53–81. Frede, M., “Monotheism and Pagan Philosophy in Later Antiquity,” in P. Athanassiadi & M. Frede (eds.), Pagan Monotheism in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999) 69–80. Grabbe, L., Etymology in Early Jewish Interpretation: The Hebrew Names in Philo (Brown Judaic Studies 115, Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1988). Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Theo-logy in John and in Early Platonism,” in id. & R.M. Calhoun (eds.), The Origins of New Testament Theology: A Dialogue with Hans Dieter Betz (WUNT 440, Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, 2020) 127–137. Hirsch-Luipold, R., “ὕλη θεολογίας: Religious Lore as Inter‘text’ in Plutarch’s Moralia,” in T. Schmidt, M. Vamvouri & R. Hirsch-Luipold (eds.), The Dynamics of Intertextuality in Plutarch (Leiden: Brill, 2020) 525–538. Hirsch-Luipold, R., Gott wahrnehmen: Die Sinne im Johannesevangelium (Ratio Religionis Studien 4, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017). Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Plutarch,” RAC 27 (2016) 1009–1037. Hirsch-Luipold, R., “The Dividing Line: Theological/Religious Arguments in Plutarch’s

82

brenk

Anti-Stoic Polemics,” in J. Opsomer, G. Roskam & F.G. Titchener (eds.), A Versatile Gentleman: Consistency in Plutarch’s Writings (Plutarchea Hypomnemata, Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2016) 17–36. Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Viele Bilder—ein Gott: Plutarchs polylatrischer Monotheismus,” in N. Hömke, G.F. Chiai & A. Jenik (eds.), Bilder von dem Einen Gott: Die Rhetorik in monotheistischen Gottesdarstellungen der Spätantike (Philologus suppl. 6, Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter, 2016) 43–68. Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Religion and Myth,” in M. Beck (ed.), A Companion to Plutarch (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014) 163–176. Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Der eine Gott bei Philon von Alexandrien und Plutarch,” in id. (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch, 141–168. Hirsch-Luipold, R., Plutarchs Denken in Bildern: Studien zur literarischen, philosophischen und religiösen Funktion des Bildhaften (STAC 14, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002). Hurtado, L.W., One God, One Lord: Early Christian Devotion and Ancient Jewish Monotheism (London: T&T Clark, 1988, 2nd ed. 1998). Mackie, S.D., “Seeing God in Philo of Alexandria: The Logos, the Powers, or the Existent One?” SPhiloA 21 (2009) 25–47. Mazzarelli, C., “Raccolta e interpretazione delle testimonianze e dei frammenti del medioplatonico Eudoro di Alessandria,” RFN 77 (1985) 197–209. 535–555. North, J.A., “Pagans, Polytheists, and the Pendulum,” in J.A. North & S.R.F. Price (eds.), The Religious History of the Roman Empire: Pagans, Jews, and Christians (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011) 479–504 (original in W.V. Harris (ed.), The Spread of Christianity in the the First Four Centuries: Studies in Explanation [Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2005] 124–143). O’Brien, C.S., The Demiurge in Ancient Thought: Secondary Gods and Divine Mediators (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015). Obsieger, H., Plutarch: De E apud Delphos/Über das Epsilon am Apolltempel in Delphi. Einführung, Ausgabe und Kommentar (Palingenesia 101, Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 2013). Opsomer, J., “Is Plutarch Really Hostile to the Stoics,” in T. Engberg-Pedersen (ed.), From Stoicism to Platonism: The Development of Philosophy, 100bce–100ce (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017) 296–321. Opsomer, J., “M. Annius Ammonius: A Philosophical Profile,” in M. Bonazzi & J. Opsomer (eds.), The Origins of the Platonic System: Platonisms of the Early Empire and their Philosophical Contexts (Collections des Etudes Classiques 23, Leuven: Peeters, 2009) 123–186. Opsomer, J., “Demiurges in Early Imperial Platonism,” in Hirsch-Luipold (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch, 51–100. Roig Lanzillotta, L., “Plutarch’s Idea of God in the Religious and Philosophical Context

plutarch’s monotheism and the new testament

83

of Late Antiquity,” in Roig Lanzillota & Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse, 137–150. Roskam, G., “Plutarch’s Theonomous Ethics and Christianity: A Few Thoughts on a Much-Discussed Problem,” in R. Hirsch-Luipold & L. Roig Lanzillotta (eds.), Plutarch’s Religious Landscapes (Brill’s Plutarch Studies 6, Leiden: Brill, 2020) 84–114. Runia, D.T., “Etymology as an Allegorical Technique in Philo of Alexandria,” SPhiloA 16 (2004) 101–121. Sedley, D., “The Origins of Stoic God,” in D. Frede & A. Laks (eds.), Traditions of Theology: Studies in Hellenistic Theology, its Background and Aftermath (Philosophia Antiqua 89, Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2002) 41–84. Teodorsson, S., “Review of Hendrick Obsieger, Plutarch: De E apud Delphos. Über das Epsilon am Apollontempel in Delphi (Palingenesia 101 [Stuttgart, 2013]),” Gnomon 88 (2016) 700–703. Termini, C., Le potenze di Dio: Studio su δύναμις in Filone di Alessandria (Rome: Pubblicazioni Agostiniane, 2000). Thom, J.C., “The Cosmotheology of De Mundo,” in J.C. Thom (ed.), Cosmic Order and Divine Power: Pseudo Aristotle, On the Cosmos (SAPERE 23, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014) 107–120. Thum, T., Plutarchs Dialog De E apud Delphos: Eine Studie (Ratio Religionis Studien 2, STAC 80, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013). Van Kooten, G., “Pagan and Jewish Monotheism According to Varro, Plutarch, and St Paul: The Aniconic, Monotheistic Beginnings of Rome’s Pagan Cult—Romans 1:19–25 in a Roman Context,” in A. Hilhorst, E. Puech & E. Tigchelaar (eds.), Flores Florentino: Dead Sea Scrolls and other Early Jewish Studies in Honour of Florentino Garcia Martinez (JSJ suppl. 122, Leiden: Brill, 2007) 631–651. Van Nuffelen, P., “Philo of Alexandria: Challenging Graeco-Roman Culture,” in id., Rethinking the Gods: Philosophical Readings of Religion in the Post-Hellenistic Period (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011) 179–199. Versnel, H.S., Coping with the Gods: Wayward Readings in Greek Theology (Religions in the Graeco-Roman World 173, Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2011). Whittaker, J., “Ammonius on the Delphic E,” CQ 19 (1969) 185–192.

part 2 Plutarch, Philo and the New Testament

∵

chapter 4

“God Is the Measure of All Things”: Plutarch and Philo on the Benefits of Religious Worship Zlatko Pleše

What activity, then, is dear to God and in his steps? Only one kind, based on one ancient precept, that “like is dear to like” so long as it is measured, whereas unmeasured things can be friendly neither to one another nor to things that possess measure. To us, therefore, God would be “the measure of all things” in the highest degree, and much more so than any “man” they talk of. The person, then, who is to become dear to such a being must needs become, as much as possible, of a like character; and according to this very saying, he among us that is temperate is dear to God since he is like him, while he that is not temperate is unlike and different and unjust; and so likewise with the rest, according to the same precept. On this there follows, let us note, this further rule, in my view the noblest and truest of all rules, that for a good man to engage continually in sacrifice and communion with the gods by prayers and offerings and all kinds of worship of gods is most noble and good and conducive to a happy life, and indeed distinctively fitting, but for a wicked man the very opposite. For the wicked person is unclean of soul while his counterpart is clean, and from him who is polluted no good man nor God can ever rightly receive gifts. Thus, all the great effort about the gods is in vain to the impious people, but to the pious altogether most profitable (Plato, Laws 4.716cd).1

∵ 1 All translated sections from Plato’s Laws are adapted both from R.G. Bury, Plato, vols. x–xi: Laws (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1926), and from M. Schofield (ed.), Plato: Laws, trans. by T. Griffith (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016). Translations of Philo’s passages are based on F.H. Colson & G.H. Whitaker, Philo, vols. i–ix (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1929–1962); for Philo’s De opificio mundi, I have also consulted

© Zlatko Pleše, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004505070_006

88

pleše

Philo and Plutarch have often been portrayed as like-minded thinkers, not only on account of their philosophical and hermeneutical orientation but also because of their professed commitment to ancestral religion. As this article purports to show, their endorsement of traditional forms of worship was not exclusively pedagogical and political in the sense of sustaining people’s frail motivation to practice the virtues; rather, both of them considered the adherence to religious lore a necessary means of attaining virtue and godlikeness, equally beneficial to non-philosophers and exceptionally endowed individuals capable of rational insight. This view owes a great deal to Plato’s political theology and its claim that participation in religious worship is a sine qua non of becoming virtuous and assimilating oneself to God. Religion, as seen by Philo and Plutarch, is a privileged sphere of activity where two dimensions of human existence, practical and contemplative, meet in perfect harmony and where the apparent dichotomy between thought and practice gets bracketed and sublated in a higher theological synthesis. For it is precisely in religious worship illuminated by reason and supported by philosophical reflection that we grow aware of God’s beneficence, “become settled in virtue through mimicking and pursuing what is good and beautiful in him,”2 experience the joy of the divine presence, and sometimes even attain an intimate communion with God.3

D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria: On the Creation of the Cosmos According to Moses. Introduction, Translation, and Commentary (Leiden: Brill, 2001). Translations of Plutarch’s passages are my own unless otherwise specified. 2 Plu., De sera num. 550E. 3 For Plutarch’s attitude towards traditional religious beliefs and practices, see especially F.E. Brenk, “An Imperial Heritage: The Religious Spirit of Plutarch of Chaeronea,” ANRW 2.36.1 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1987) 248–349; R. Flacelière, “Plutarque dans ses ‘Oeuvres morales,’” in R. Flacelière et al. (eds.), Plutarque: OEuvres morales, vol. i.1 (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1987) clxi–cc; D. Babut, Parerga: Choix d’articles 1974–1994 (Lyon: Maison Jean Pouillout, 1994), esp. “La part du rationalisme dans la religion de Plutarque: l’exemple du De genio Socratis,” 431– 456, and “Du scepticisme au dépassement de la raison: philosophie et foi religieuse chez Plutarque,” 549–581; I. Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la religione: Atti del vi Convegno plutarcheo Ravello 1995 (Naples: M. D’Auria, 1996) with two outstanding contributions by W. Burkert, “Plutarco: religiosità personale e teologia filosofica,” 11–28 and C. Moreschini, “Religione e filosofia in Plutarco,” 29–48; P. Veyne, “Les problèmes religieux d’un païen intelligent, Plutarque,” in id., L’ Empire gréco-romain (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 2005) 761–819; F. Frazier, “Philosophie et religion dans la pensée de Plutarque: Quelques réflexions autour des emplois du mot πίστις,” Études platoniciennes 5. Le divin dans la tradition Platonicienne (2008) 41–61; L. Roig Lanzillota & I. Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse of Late Antiquity (Leiden: Brill, 2012); R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Plutarch,” in RAC 27 (2016) 1009– 1037; id., “Viele Bilder—ein Gott: Plutarchs polylatrischer Monotheismus,” in N. Hömke et al. (eds.), Bilder von dem Einen Gott: Die Rhetorik in monotheistischen Gottesdarstellungen der Spätantike (Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter, 2016) 43–68; id., “ὕλη θεολογίας: Religious Lore

on the benefits of religious worship

1

89

Preliminary: Philosophical Religion or Religious Philosophy?

In the Weberian categorization of religious specialists, Philo and Plutarch belong to a socially diverse group of the “carriers (Träger) of intellectualism” whose primary concern was not religious innovation but the rationalization of the existing beliefs and practices into a coherent system of religious metaphysics and ethics. In recent years, this broad category of religious intellectualism, which Weber vaguely characterized as “an inner compulsion to understand the world as a meaningful cosmos,”4 has been substituted by a concept of philosophical religion as a more promising way of approaching the rationalist attitude toward religious worship of a kind we find in Philo and Plutarch. Philosophical religion, as defined by the historian of philosophy Carlos Fraenkel, stands for a long-lasting tradition of harmonizing religion and philosophy, one that stretches as far back as Socrates and Plato and persists well into the early modern period, with the goal of establishing “the rule of Reason through beliefs, practices, and institutions that order the community to what is best.”5 In Fraenkel’s reconstruction, proponents of philosophical religion viewed diverse as Inter‘text’ in Plutarch’s Moralia,” in T. Schmidt et al. (eds.), The Dynamics of Intertextuality in Plutarch (Leiden: Brill, 2020) 525–538. For Philo’s religiosity, including his multifaceted approach to Jewish worship, see in particular J. Leonhardt-Balzer, Jewish Worship in Philo of Alexandria (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001) and her article “Jewish Worship and Universal Identity in Philo of Alexandria,” in J. Frey et al. (eds.), Jewish Identity in the GrecoRoman World (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2007) 29–53; see also M. Harl (ed.), Philon d’Alexandrie: Quis rerum divinarum sit (Paris: Seuil, 1967) 13–162; D.T. Runia, “Philo’s Achievement,” in id., Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato (Leiden: Brill, 1986) 528–552; E. Birnbaum, The Place of Judaism in Philo’s Thought: Isreal, Jews, and Proselytes (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1996); D. Winston, The Ancestral Philosophy: Hellenistic Philosophy in Second Temple Judaism: Essays of David Winston, ed. by G.E. Sterling (Providence, RI: Brown Judaic Studies, 2001); G.E. Sterling, “ ‘The Queen of the Virtues’: Piety in Philo of Alexandria,” SPhAn 18 (2006) 103–123; F. Calabi, God’s Acting, Man’s Acting: Tradition and Philosophy in Philo of Alexandria (Leiden/Boston, 2008); C. Lévy, “La conversion du scepticisme chez Philon d’Alexandrie,” in F. Alesse (ed.), Philo of Alexandria and Post-Aristotelian Philosophy (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2008) 103–120; id., “Philo’s Ethics,” in A. Kamesar (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Philo (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009) 146–171; id., “Philo of Alexandria,” in E.N. Zalta (ed.), The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy https://plato.stanford.edu /archives/spr2018/​ entries/philo/; J. Annas, “Virtue and Law in Plato,” in C. Bobonich (ed.), Plato’s Laws: A Critical Guide (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010) 71–79, and her “Philo on Virtue and the Law of Moses,” in id., Virtue and Law in Plato and Beyond (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017) 188–214; K. Berthelot, “Regards juifs alexandrins sur les religions,”RHR 4 (2017) 635–650. 4 M. Weber, Economy and Society: An Outline of Interpretive Sociology, ed. by G. Roth & C. Wittich (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1978) 499. 5 C. Fraenkel, Philosophical Religions from Plato to Spinoza: Reason, Religion, and Autonomy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012) 49.

90

pleše

religious traditions as designed by ancient sages to teach non-philosophers the value of virtuous life as the second-best alternative to philosophical contemplation.6 Religion is thus assigned the subordinate rank of a handmaid to philosophy: it is sustained by a rational conception of divinity, but this philosophical content is concealed under images and symbols and made inaccessible to those lacking philosophical training. To what extent do Philo’s and Plutarch’s views of religious traditions reflect the intellectual tradition of philosophical religion as outlined by Fraenkel? At first glance, almost perfectly so. For both of them, ancient beliefs and practices had been established by divinely inspired legislators and theologians of the past,7 but their original purpose of teaching virtue, piety, and godlikeness was subsequently compromised by aberrant practices. Philo and Plutarch considered their task to recover this original purpose by resorting (primarily) to argumentative and exegetical strategies of Platonic philosophy. Drawing on Plato’s systematization of ancestral religion in the Republic and the Laws,8 they

6 For a similar reconstruction of Plato’s philosophical religion with particular emphasis on the role assigned to traditional worship in the Republic, see M.M. McPherran, “Platonic Religion,” in H.H. Benson (ed.), A Companion to Plato (Oxford: Blackwell, 2006) 244–259 (250): “Plato holds that worship is a form of education that should begin in childhood where it can take root in feelings … Most citizens of Kallipolis … will be non-philosophers who are unable to achieve such [sc. rational] confirmation, but who will still profit from the habitual practice of these rites insofar as they promote the retention of their own sort of psychic justice. For philosophers, however, such pious activity is quite secondary to the inwardly-directed activity that it supports; this is their quest for wisdom—for direct apprehension of the Forms—an activity that focuses directly on making oneself ‘as much like a god as a human can’” (613AB). 7 Plato likely served as their common source: “No man with any sense will attempt to alter the injunctions that have come from Delphi or Dodona or Ammon, or from ancient traditions (palaioi logoi). In whatever way these traditions may have worked their persuasion, whether by visions of the gods or what is called divine inspiration, under their influence the men of old-time established sacrifices and rites, sometimes of local origin and sometimes imported … and by means of such traditions have sanctified oracles and statues and altars and temples and marked off for each of them its sacred area. The legislator ought to change none of these in the slightest degree” (Laws 5.738bc). 8 Plato’s theological system in the Laws is organized around a small set of rules laid down in the preambles to actual legislation: the anti-Protagorean statement that “God is the measure of all things” (4.716c) and, “what could stand as the finest and best preamble to virtually any of our laws,” three theological claims: “that the gods exist, that they are good, and that they have a higher regard to justice than human beings do” (10.887bc). An even smaller set of “guidelines” or “molds of theology” (hoi tupoi peri theologias) to which the poets and others must conform when depicting divinity is proposed in the second book of the Republic: first, God is good and can only be the cause of the good things; second, God is perfect and therefore immutable (Rep. 2.379a–383c). For a critical summary of past scholarly controversies over the meaning of theologia in this passage see G. Nadaff, “Plato’s Theologia Revisited,” The Society for Ancient

on the benefits of religious worship

91

set up a theological framework allowing them to redefine the meaning of pious observance, draw the boundaries between licit and illicit forms of worship,9 and, despite their professed allegiance to native beliefs and practices, acknowledge the wisdom and truth value of other religious traditions. To begin with Plutarch, he repeatedly refers to ancient sages—a category including theologians and legislators—as “the oldest of philosophers” who concealed philosophical truth behind images and religious symbols,10 in contrast to their rationally minded “followers” such as Pythagoras, Plato, Xenocrates and Chrysippus.11 In On Isis and Osiris, he produces a long list of reputable poets, lawgivers, and theologians, of both Greek and barbarian origin, who shared an “immemorial opinion of anonymous origin” about “the opposite principles and two antithetic powers” at work in the physical world—the opinion subsequently elucidated and refined by a series of philosophers (45.369B– 48.370E). Plato, as expected, is given a prominent place in the series because he not only expressed this ancient opinion in “unequivocal terms” but also managed to mitigate the radical dualism of his predecessors by positing “a certain third nature” between the opposite and mutually exclusive cosmic principles (48.370E–371A). What in Plutarch’s view makes Plato a superior thinker and a standard to invoke both “as witness and as advocate” was his capacity to integrate religious traditions into an overarching philosophical framework and thereby formulate a coherent theological system based on the rational conception of divinity.12 The contours of this system, which Plato laid out in the

9 10

11 12

Greek Philosophy Newsletter 198 (1995) 1–17; cf. also McPherran, “Platonic Religion,” 247– 250 and, most recently, G. Van Riel, “Theology and Religiosity in the Greek Pagan Tradition,” in R. Hirsch-Luipold & R.M. Calhoun (eds.), The Origins of New Testament Theology: A Dialogue with Hans Dieter Betz (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2020) 93–118. For Plato’s differentiation between licit and illicit religious practices and beliefs, see a brief but still rather useful analysis in E.R. Dodds, “Plato and the Irrational,” JHS 65 (1945) 16–25. De an. procr. 33.1030AB: “The ancient theologians, who were the oldest of philosophers, put musical instruments into the hands of the statues of the gods, with the thought, I presume, not that they ⟨do play⟩ the lyre and the pipe but that no work is so like that of gods as concord and consonance.” De Is. et Os. 25.360D: Plato, Pythagoras, Xenocrates and Chrysippus are said to have followed “the early theologians” in their daimonological theories. It is Lamprias, Plutarch’s brother, who invokes Plato as “witness and as advocate” in On Oracles in Decline (De def. or. 47.435E) on account of his totalizing viewpoint of reality— one that that takes into consideration not only the network of “natural causes” but also “the superior causes of purpose and agent” (47.435EF). According to Lamprias, Plato was “the philosopher who first distinctly grasped both sets of causes and took into account both the rational principle of activity and motion as well as the necessary passive substratum, thereby freeing us from any suspicion and misrepresentation” (48.436E). The problem with the “ancient theologians and poets” is that they “chose to pay attention only

92

pleše

Laws,13 can be discerned in Plutarch’s reconstruction of Egyptian theology in On Isis and Osiris—a “philosophy,” as he defines it, “hidden for the most part in myths and doctrines containing dim reflections and glimpses of the truth” (9.354BC). While Plutarch regards Plato as a higher authority than ancient sages, Philo assigns intellectual and moral superiority to “the people of old” within his Jewish tradition.14 A place of honor is reserved for biblical patriarchs, the shining

13

14

to the superior (divine) causes,” while “natural scientists,” in turn, “wandered away from the beautiful and divine first principles” (48.436DE). Plato knew how to find room for both sets of causes and offer a plausible and comprehensive explanation “without subverting our true, pious beliefs concerning the divine” (47.435E). Ancient poets and theologians are deemed acceptable, but only on condition that their preoccupation with the divine causes does not result in blaming the divine for imperfections of this world and for human wickedness—that is to say, if they stand in agreement with Plato’s guidelines about theology (cf. supra, note 8). Translations slightly adapted from D.A. Russell, Plutarch: Selected Essays and Dialogues (Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 1993) 52–54. The importance of Plato’s Laws for Plutarch’s thought, and especially for his attitude toward “ancient beliefs,” deserves more attention than it has received. Plutarch’s conviction that poets, legislators and theologians had conveyed in an oblique way the same immemorial wisdom that reputable philosophers have expressed in less equivocal terms echoes Plato’s argument in the Laws that the ideal law-code of Magnesia must include both philosophical instruction and “divinely inspired ancient traditions” available in religious rites and institutions. Plato’s preambles to the law-code not only contain his philosophical tenets but also refer to various religious doctrines—thus, for instance, in the prelude to the special law covering murder he makes a reference to “the (Orphic) logos told in mystic rites” according to which the retribution for murder will be exacted in Hades (9.870d). Ancient beliefs incorporated and enacted in long-established religious practices are thus an indispensable element of ideal legislation, and the philosopherlegislator should refrain from altering them, let alone making them obsolete. Plant. 156–161: “Most contemporary people, apart from a small fraction, do not seem to be eager to resemble the men of old times, but both in language and action they exhibit tendencies wholly out of harmony with theirs. For language that was once healthy and robust they have turned into incurable decay and destruction, and in the place of a vigorous and athletic habit they have brought everything into a state of disease … Consequently, in their times poets and chroniclers flourished and all who engaged in other literary genres, and they did not at once charm and enervate people’s ears by the rhythm of their speech but they roused them up if there was anything broken and relaxed in the mind, and every true note of it they kept in tune with the instruments of nature and virtue … The men of old began every noble business with sacrifices duly offered, deeming that in that way a favorable result would be ensured; and even if the occasion required immediate action, still they first had offered prayers and sacrifices.” Migr. 90: “And yet, these men (the exegetes who treat the literal sense with easy-going neglect and explore truth in its naked absoluteness) are taught by the sacred account (hieros logos) to be concerned with good repute and to abolish nothing of the customs ordained by divinely inspired men greater than those of our time.”

on the benefits of religious worship

93

examples of moral progress and the embodiments of unwritten natural laws “endowed with soul and reason” (De Abrahamo 5). But it is Moses whom Philo admires above all for having received “instruction from divine oracles” and attained “the summit of philosophy”—a “god-beloved author” who epitomizes the union of practical and theoretical wisdom. What sets Moses apart is his intellect (nous), “more perfect and cleansed,” and thus capable of receiving revelations “directly from the divine cause” (Legum allegoriae 3.100–102). Beautiful “thoughts” (noêmata) contained in his cosmological preface to the Law (De opificio mundi 4) exceed by far the knowledge of other teachers of wisdom and philosophers inasmuch as they are neither derived from the senses nor obtained solely by rational consideration and inference (epilogismos). The same goes for the prescriptive sections of Mosaic law where, long before Plato’s attempts at ideal lawmaking, positive and negative rules of proper worship harmoniously alternate with persuasive preambles and exhorting epilogues (De vita Mosis 2.50–51), all of them stemming from “the generic commandments which came from the mouth of God” (De specialibus legibus 2.11).15 Plato’s legislative project in the Laws, therefore, is only a philosophical approximation of the divinely inspired Torah, just as Philo’s allegorical exposition represents the effort of the human mind (dianoia) to attain, to the best of its limited ability, the transcendent beauty of Moses’ thoughts. The argument that traditional religions contain an invariant philosophical core carries a potential risk of undermining their cultic dimension and turning religious observance into a pedagogical corrective for the hoi polloi lacking intellectual maturity. Plutarch is well aware of that risk and therefore keeps insisting that “we may come to know what really exists if we approach the sanctuaries … with reason and reverence” (De Iside et Osiride 2.353A).16 True piety, in his view, includes both the observance of rites and their rational understanding: for ritual performance without “the true belief about the gods” leads to superstition and, conversely, philosophical reflection without continuous worship may easily slip into atheism (11.355CD). Philo, for his part, engages in an open polemic with the group of extreme allegorists who behave “as though they had become disembodied souls,” and treat the Law and its ritual prescriptions “with easygoing neglect.” But holy scripture, he argues, demands to “have

15

16

Compare Spec. 2.189, where Philo characterizes the ten commandments as genikoi nomoi and the particular rules of Mosaic law as ta en eidei’; in Spec. 3.7 he states that the latter “cling tight” (sunteinein) to the ten. All translations from Plutarch’s On Isis and Osiris are adapted from. J.G. Griffiths, Plutarch’s De Iside et Osiride: Edited with an Introduction, Translation, and Commentary (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1970).

94

pleše

thought for good repute and abolish none of the customs ordained by divinely inspired men”; and he warns that neglecting the “body” of Mosaic law may bring “the censure of the many,” just as the disengagement from the external forms of worship may compromise the bodily habitus necessary for the soul’s communion with the divine (De migratione Abrahami 89–93). Philo here introduced the Platonic idea, to which I will return later, that bodily appetites can never be fully eradicated and that the soul, however virtuous, is always in a danger of losing control over its bodily abode. Ritual practice is not just the expression of loyalty to ancestral traditions but a prerequisite for moral and spiritual advancement. Despite their clear support for traditional beliefs and rituals, it is hard to resist the impression that Philo and Plutarch assigned more weight to philosophical reflection than to religious observance and that they regarded the latter as a pedagogical tool primarily intended for the benefit of non-philosophers.17 But this impression is misleading. Neither of them argued that the logos of philosophy, however indispensable for intellectual progress, could lead on its own to assimilation to God, the ultimate goal of human life. The culmination of rational knowledge, as they saw it, lies in the ‘Socratic’ realization of one’s own ignorance and the acknowledgment of a profound ontological gap between God and his creation. In Philo’s words, “he who has fully apprehended (katalabôn)18 himself fully renounces himself, having as a step to this ascertained the nothingness (oudeneia) in all respects of created being; and he who has renounced himself comes to know Him that is” (De somniis 1.60).19 Plutarch is equally aware of the intrinsic “weakness” (astheneia) of human knowledge, for which he finds a remedy in surrendering to God with reverence and awe: “The (Delphic) maxim ‘Know thyself’ seems somehow to oppose the phrase ‘Thou art,’ and yet again to accord with it; for the latter is an appeal raised in awe and reverence to the God as eternally existing, while the former is a reminder to mortals of their nature and their weakness” (De E apud Delphos 21.394C). This

17

18 19

Cf. Fraenkel, Philosophical Religions, 22–23: “As a rule, proponents of philosophical religion assert that they are bound by the prescriptions of their religion … They have a strong incentive for setting a good example. A second reason is that philosophers, like everyone else, are embodied … and so must observe the laws to ensure that they do not lose control over their body … A third reason is that non-observance would expose philosophers to the charge of impiety by non-philosophers.” In Congr. 141 and Deus 43, Philon defines knowledge as a “sure and certain katalêpsis which cannot be changed by argument (logos).” Migr. 134: “What then is the goal of right-mindedness? To pronounce on oneself and all things created the verdict of folly (aphrosunê). For the limit of knowledge is to hold that we know nothing as he alone is wise and he alone is God.”

on the benefits of religious worship

95

criterial shift, the recognition that God, and not human reason, is the standard of truth carries clear religious overtones and indicates that neither Philo nor Plutarch viewed religion as subordinate to philosophy. As will be shown in the ensuing sections, both of them embraced Plato’s rule from the epigraph to this article, namely that “God is the measure of all things” and that “for a good man to engage continually in sacrifice and communion with the gods by prayers and offering of all kinds of worship of gods is most noble and good and conducive to a happy life” (Laws 4.716cd)—for it is in this kind of “serious play” (7.803), conducted with the proper frame of mind, that one can become virtuous, experience the joy and delight of God’s presence, and even attain a vision of the divine.

2

Ethical Dimension: Religious Observance and Progress in Virtue

Plato, as we have seen (Laws 4.716cd), makes the explicit connection between “the worship of gods” (therapeia theôn) and the attainment of happiness. But true worship, he admonishes, is more than just the scrupulous enactment of sacrifices, prayers, and offerings. What is required, too, is a rational mindset and the resulting virtuous disposition that will make the worshipper “dear to God” inasmuch as he is similar to him in goodness and virtue: “He among us that is temperate is dear to God since he is like him” (4.716d). This claim that religious practice has validity and effectiveness when carried out by virtuous agents (ex opere operantis) is fully embraced by Plutarch. As he advises those who are “earnest about performing sacred rites,” one should “take particular care of purity and cleanliness” not solely by shunning bodily pollution but also, and more importantly, by leading a life “free from all indecency, all wrong-doing, and all yielding to passion—for this is what is primarily (kuriôs) meant by being pure”; and they should also propitiate the gods continually with offerings, not in order to “give them something they do not possess”—for the gods possess everything—but to “become fitter for unhindered communion with them” and thus never stop receiving “good at the hands of the gods” ( fr. 47 Sandbach = fr. 142 Marzillo).20 Following Plato, Plutarch identifies this “good” with

20

For Plutarch’s commentary on Hesiod’s Works and Days, fragments of which were preserved, albeit in a modified form, in the so-called “old scholia” to Hesiod excerpted from Proclus’s commentary on the poem, see most recently R. Hunter, Hesiodic Voices: Studies in the Ancient Reception of Hesiod’s Works and Days (Cambridge/New York: Cambridge University Press, 2014) 167–226. Although there are “no really objective criteria to help us in the attempt to decipher Plutarchan material within the Proclan scholia” (ibid. 168),

96

pleše

virtue,21 the only aspect of God’s superior nature that is “within our reach” if we approach the divine with “love and honorable regard and reverence” (Aristides 6.3–4).22 What Plutarch suggests in the above surveyed passages is that individuals guided by reason and ethical concerns are those who enjoy the greatest benefits from engaging in religious worship. “You have often been told,” he consoles the bereaved wife after the funeral of their infant daughter, “that happiness depends on correct reasoning (orthoi epilogismoi), which results in a stable frame of mind (eustathês diathesis), and that the vicissitudes of fortune do not mean a great decline or any disturbing commotion in our life” (Consolatio ad uxorem 9.611A).23 Plutarch reminds his wife that they have acquired this stable disposition (eustatheia), which manifests itself in “fair words about the gods and uncomplaining serenity towards fortune” (8.610E), from “the ancestral doctrine (patrios logos) and the mystic token of the rites of Dionysus” (10.611D). The Dionysiac mysteries have taught them that the immortal soul is “like a captive bird” while dwelling in the body, and that the sooner it “passes the gates of Hades” the easier it will “leap up towards its natural state” (10.611F). “The truth

21

22

23

neither Hunter nor F.H. Sandbach, Plutarch’s Moralia, vol. xv: Fragments (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1969) 104–108, express doubts about Plutarch’s authorship of the passage under discussion. See also P. Marzillo’s edition of the Proclan scholia, Der Kommentar der Proklos zu Hesiods Werken und Tagen (Tübingen: Narr Verlag) 2010. Plu., De sera num. 5.550DE: “But consider first that, according to Plato, of all noble things God sets himself as a pattern and renders human virtue, which is in some sort an assimilation (eksomoiôsis) to himself, accessible to all who can follow God … For there is no greater blessing man is fitted to derive from God than to become settled in virtue through mimicking and pursuing what is beautiful and good in him.” Plutarch invokes here a number of Platonic passages, among them Theaetetus 176b–e, Timaeus 47a–c, and especially Laws 1.631b–d, where virtues are identified with the divine goods: “Now good things are twofold, human and divine; and the human goods are dependent on the divine, and anyone who gets the greater acquires the lesser as well—otherwise he loses both … Turning to the divine goods, the first and leading place goes to wisdom; second is a temperate disposition of soul conjoined with intellect; third would be justice, the combination of the first two with courage, and fourth courage … Among the goods, the human ones look up to the divine, and the divine all look to intellect as their guide.” The other two hallmarks of God’s superiority are incorruptibility (aphtharsia) and power (dunamis), both eagerly desired by people but well beyond their reach; “while as for virtue, the only divine good within our reach, they put it at the bottom of the list, and unwisely so because a life passed in power and great fortune and authority needs justice to make it divine” (ibid. 6.4). Compare Philo’s similar portrayal of Abraham’s response to the death of Sarah as “a stable (eustathês) and sober air of sorrow” (Abr. 260), the result of his deliberate “choice of moderation (metriopathein) over the extremes of impassibility (apatheia) and excessive grief” (257).

on the benefits of religious worship

97

about these things is made even clearer by our ancient, paternal laws and customs,” and in particular by the law which forbids the performance of customary funeral rites for dead infants. Whereas the hoi polloi may take this prohibition as implying that no ritual can bring rest to the vagrant spirits of those who passed away prematurely (aôroi),24 Plutarch sees it as the confirmation of the arcane Dionysiac lore: “The law forbids [mourning] in the case of small children, holding it wrong toward those who have passed to a better and holier land and lot.” Observance of ancestral beliefs and practices brings thus multiple benefits to philosophically minded worshippers, from teaching the truth about the human condition to moderating excessive emotions and molding the virtuous character: “Since mistrusting these laws is more problematic than trusting them, let us maintain our outward appearances as the law directs and keep at the same time our inner posture even more pure and undefiled and temperate” (11.612AB).25 For Philo, too, the ideal of virtuous life is inseparable from a strict adherence to Jewish law and its ritual prescriptions. Moses the lawgiver “did not permit his people to conduct their festivals like other nations … but first he bade them in the very hour of their joy (euphrosunê) to make themselves pure by curbing the impulses to pleasures … and then summoned them to take their parts in hymns and prayers and sacrifices” in order to make them “enamored of continence (enkrateia) and piety (eusebeia)” (De specialibus legibus 1.193). The right observance of a festival also includes a rational evaluation of all of its visual and auditory aspects inasmuch as they serve as figurative pretexts or “hints” (aphormai) for moral development:26 “For if you observe this [sc. the sacrifice of an unblemished animal] with your reasoning (logismos) rather than with your eyes, you will proceed to wash away the sins and defilements with which you have besmeared your whole life” (1.259). Philo’s conviction that keeping a 24

25 26

For the “abbreviated” funerary rites surrounding the death of infants see R. Garland, The Greek Way of Death (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1985) 77–88; Garland briefly discusses a handful of ancient testimonies about the somber fate of the infant dead, including Plutarch’s report of Timarchus’s oracular vision of Hades, “a vast abyss filled with a mass of darkness” from which can be heard “the wailings of innumerable infants” (De genio Socr. 22.590F). Translations slightly adapted from Russell, Plutarch: Selected Essays, 301–303. Philo’s argument is that Mosaic law and its ritual prescriptions have a “twofold rationale,” one “peculiar to the nation” and the other “universal, following the lead of nature and attuned to the general cosmic order” (Spec. 2.150), with the former serving as a necessary and indispensable starting point (aphormê; e.g., Conf. 191 and Migr. 2) for uncovering the latter. For aphormê as a technical term in Philo and ancient hermeneutic, see J. Pépin, “Rémarques sur la théorie de l’ exégèse allégorique chez Philon,” in R. Arnaldez et al. (eds.), Philon d’Alexandrie, Lyon 11–15 septembre 1966 (Paris: Centre national de la recherche scientifique, 1967) 137–167.

98

pleše

festival is not just the matter of rule-following and demonstrating loyalty to ancestral traditions but the way of “gaining a clearer conception of the things of which these (rituals) are symbols” (De migratione Abrahami 93) is the main point in his dispute with the previously mentioned extreme allegorists who abrogate ritual practice.27 He concedes their point that holding a feast “in the true sense” amounts to “finding delight and exultation in the contemplation (theôria) of the cosmos and its content and in following nature” (De specialibus legibus 2.52), but he also warns that “no one reaches perfection in any of his pursuits”—for “all perfection and finality belong to One alone” (Quis rerum divinarum heres sit 121)—and that “the powers of virtues” rarely, if ever, “remain unvanquished” (De specialibus legibus 2.42) under the constant assaults of bodily desires and irrational emotions. In that regard, “carrying out all rites of purification and obeying the injunctions of the divine laws both in body and soul” proves indispensable for “restricting the pleasures of the belly” and “setting reason to guide the irrational senses” (2.163). Religious observance is thus a catalyst of moral progress in that it positively affects all constituent dimensions of human existence—corporeal, emotional, and rational—and produces a virtuous character in which these dimensions are harmoniously attuned one to another.28

3

Eupathetic Dimension: Emotional Appeal of Religious Worship

“The gods,” Plato says in the Laws, “in their pity for the human race, born as it is to hardship, have ordained religious festivals as periods of respite for its troubles;” and they have even given themselves to “be our companions in dances and songs” to which “they have assigned the name ‘choirs’ (khoroi)

27 28

See supra, pp. 97–98. See Annas, “Virtue and Law,” 71–91, who sees Philo as deeply influenced by Plato’s ideal legislation in the Laws as “a context in which people learn to be virtuous and happy” (80); for a more detailed analysis of Philo’s indebtedness to Plato’s political philosophy, see her more recent analysis in “Philo on Virtue and the Law of Moses.” Leonhardt-Balzer in her “Jewish Worship and Universal Identity,” convincingly argues that “Philo’s emphasis” is not only “on the allegorical reading of the rites” because of his conviction that “inner virtue must and does express itself in the social environment” (41). Here, too, Philo shows close affinity with Plutarch inasmuch as both of them see the purpose of human life in the interplay of intellectual contemplation and practical activity. For Plutarch’s view on this matter, see M. Bonazzi, “Theoria and praxis: on Plutarch’s Platonism,” in T. Bénatouil & M. Bonazzi (eds.), Theoria and Praxis after Plato and Aristotle (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2012) 139–161.

on the benefits of religious worship

99

from the ‘cheer’ (khara) implanted in them” (2.653d–654a). For Philo and Plutarch who, here again, follow Plato’s lead, this joyful aspect of religious festivals provides a strong incentive for philosophers to continue to practice religion. As both of them agree, only those who conduct their life with virtue and reason can fully experience the joy of the divine presence in religious worship. “He who pursues virtue,” Philo explains, “is counted to be in corresponding good emotional states (eupatheiai), for he has either obtained goodness or will achieve it; and to have it produces joy (chara), which is the fairest of possessions” (Quod deterius potiori insidiari soleat 120). Wicked people, in contrast, “cannot keep a feast, not even for the shortest time,” and “they have no chance for true rejoicing (euphrosunê) filled as they are with evil counsels and living with folly” (aphrosunê) (De specialibus legibus 2.49). Joy and gladness, in other words, are the emotional complements of virtuous life and their intensity and duration commensurate with the varying degrees of virtues. This is why Moses, as Philo asserts, “stipulated that the feasts belong to God alone, for he alone is happy and blessed, having no participation in any evil whatsoever.” The joy attainable by humans is not so “pure and unmixed” inasmuch as it “flows” from the divine source as “a mixed stream blended with tributaries of sorrow,” so that even the wisest of people cannot hope for more than a life in which “the pleasant ingredients outnumber the unpleasant” (2.53–55). To illustrate a superior kind of joy available to the morally good and wise, Philo evokes the atmosphere of delight and festivity that pervaded the worship of the “men of old” who “began every noble practice with unblemished sacrifices” and, after “cleansing their bodies and souls, the former with ablutions and the latter with streams of laws and right instruction, turned radiant and glad (gegêthotes) to relaxed enjoyment” thanks, in part, to moderate wine consumption (De plantatione 162). Philo, as always, points to a higher spiritual meaning of indulging in wine—“drinking deeply from the divine well of knowledge” (168)—but he insists that such elevated thoughts can hardly arise outside the ritual setting and that the two levels, literal or cultic and allegorical or universal, and practically inseparable.29 “The wise man,” he explains, 29

See, for instance, Spec. 2.150: “This (sc. the unleavened bread) may be regarded from two points of view, one peculiar to the nation, preferring to the crossover just mentioned, and the other universal, following the lead of nature and in agreement with the general cosmic order.” As already discussed in the previous section (pp. 97–98), Philo consistently interprets the institutions of Jewish worship in a symbolic key available only to philosophically minded individuals, but he insists that this “universal” meaning presupposes the literary observance of religious practices “peculiar to the nation.” When he thus proclaims that “the festival is a symbol of the gladness of the soul and gratitude toward God” (Migr. 92), the statement simultaneously pertains to the spiritual joy of a virtuous life and

100

pleše

indulges in wine after sacrificing to “become more good-humored than when he is sober” and “play (paiksai) and divert himself in a refined way” (167). This portrayal of “the countenance of wisdom” as a harmonious blend of “playfulness” (paidia) and “dignified seriousness” (spoudê) is an homage to Plato’s claim, so vividly expressed in the Laws, that a human being is “a kind of plaything for God” who should “live out his life in various forms of play— sacrificing, singing, dancing—so as to be able to win the divine favor” and, following God’s guidance, attune the strings of his conflicting emotions to the pull of the golden cord of reason (logismos) (1.644e–645d; 7.803c–804a).30 Playing to God’s tune in religious worship is thus the most serious activity in which human beings can pass their lives: to the majority of ordinary people (idiôtai), it gives confidence in God’s benevolence and produces temperance and control over violent passions; and to those who are wise and virtuous it confers the greatest benefit of all, the joy of a spiritual kinship with God, which Philo, clearly inspired by Plato’s imagery, calls “the divine play of the soul” (De plantatione 169). For Plutarch, too, the joy of experiencing God’s presence is one of the greatest benefits that pious worshippers obtain in religious festivals. In a dialogue entitled A Pleasant Life Is Impossible according to Epicurus, he reproaches the Epicureans for rejecting the belief in divine providence and thereby “allowing no joy and delight to come to us from the gods” (Non posse suaviter vivi secundum Epicurum 20.1100F–1101A).31 Unlike his Epicurean opponents, Plut-

30

31

to the exultant joy experienced in the cultic setting. This interpenetration of two closely linked perspectives is characteristic for Philo’s overall approach to Mosaic laws and rituals. In Spec. 2.42, for example, he infers from the list of daily sacrifices in Num. 28:1–8 that the Mosaic Law demands daily festivals in order to “accommodate itself to the blameless life of righteous men who follow nature and her ordinances.” As in the previous examples, we can read this as double entendre—both a reference to daily practices of virtuous people and a philosophical topos of the life of the sage as a continuous spiritual feast. Here again we see the impact of Plato’s Laws and the Athenian Stranger’s injunction that, in the city of Magnesia, “there should be no less than three hundred sixty-five festivals, so that forever and every day some magistrate offers sacrifices” (8.828a). Those who are taught how to read the laws philosophically will understand the allusion to a rational cosmic law instituted by the sovereign divine intellect, but they will nevertheless continue to observe, and even preside over, “the ancestral sacrifices” (8.828b). For Plato’s redefinition of the notions of the serious and the playful, see E. Voegelin, Order and History, vol. 3: Plato and Aristotle, ed. by D. Germino (Columbia, MO: University of Missouri Press, 2000) 269–322, and esp. E. Jouët-Pastré, Le jeu et le sérieux dans les Lois de Platon (Sankt Augustin: Academia Verlag, 2006). In their introduction to the Loeb edition of Non posse, Einarson & De Lacy claim that Plutarch’s argument is not that “the Platonic or Stoic views [in favor of providence] are true,” but that these views “yield greater pleasure than the Epicurean”; cf. Plutarch: Mor-

on the benefits of religious worship

101

arch does not consider joy and gladness (euphrosunê) as “the dilations” or “affectations of the soul” that occur “while expecting or recollecting fleshly enjoyment,” but rather as mental pleasures, “rational in the truest sense,” arising from either the “theoretical” or the “practical” part of the mind (dianoia) (20.1100F–1101A). These positive emotions, and here Plutarch stands in full agreement with Philo, have varying degrees of purity and intensity proportionate to different cognitive capacities and character dispositions. People driven by irrational urges of their appetitive soul cannot participate in the pleasures yielded by the mind, let alone find favor with God whom “they fear as a ruler mild to the good and hating the wicked”; for them, religion works as a restraint that keeps them from wrongdoing and relieves their fears and torments (21.1101DE). In ordinary people, those “with little learning (amatheis) but not greatly wicked” inasmuch as they are capable of making rational choices (dianoeisthai, epinoia), their belief that God rewards “good conduct” (eupraksia) outweighs the fear of punishment for vices and produces “a cheerful hope and exultant joy” (to euelpi kai perikhares) manifested in the “playful” festivities of “sacred rites and sacrifices” (21.1101D–1102A). Finally, for “the better class of humans” in possession of “intellect” (nous) and virtue, their “pure opinions”32 about God as good and therefore favoring the virtuous make them “dearest to God,” and this sense of proximity to the divine fills them with “unbounded confidence” and the joy and delight of a far superior kind than that of the ordinary majority (22.1102D–1103F; 25.1104A). Those who have attained the pinnacle of virtue and wisdom—that is to say, true philosophers—are therefore the greatest beneficiaries of a continuous religious observance. They know that the real purpose of a religious festival is to experience the joy of virtuous living and this is why, as Plutarch repeatedly warns in this dialogue, they must not adopt

32

alia, vol. xiv (Cambridge, MA/London: Harvard University Press, 1967) 6. But Plutarch’s argument, presented by his spokesmen Aristodemus and Theon, is based on a set of Platonic claims whose cogency and truth-value he considers superior to the Epicurean suppositions—for instance, the argument from the Timaeus that God is good and without envy (Non posse 22.1102D); Plato’s rationalist interpretation of religious worship in the Laws as a way of becoming similar and “dear” (philos) to God by advancing in virtue (22. 1102F); and the Platonic dogma that pleasures originate in different parts of the soul rather than in the body (9.1092D–1093A). One would expect that the virtuous and wise who are “dear to God” have a firm knowledge of the divine and not just “pure opinions” (katharai doksai); but for Plutarch, as we have already seen (pp. 94–95), reason cannot be the standard of truth in matters pertaining to theology: “No one striving in this world for the truth and vision of that which is (to on) has ever adequately filled himself with them because his reasoning (logismos) is dampened and disturbed by the body as by a mist or cloud” (Non posse 28.1105D).

102

pleše

the Epicurean indifference toward the gods and neglect cultic activity, which is a visible manifestation of God’s “generosity and benevolence” (22.1102E).33

4

Epoptic Dimension: Worship, Reason and Revelation

There is an even greater benefit that, according to Philo and Plutarch, religious observance offers to true philosophers, those endowed with intellect (nous) and “dear to God” (theophileis).34 Ritual acts, objects, and utterances not only have a regulative role but also carry a symbolic value. They train the body to obey the soul and teach the soul to honor reason and virtue, but they also, through the evocative power of their symbolic imagery, enable the intellect to take a leap into transcendence and obtain a direct and instantaneous vision (thea, horasis) of divinity. According to Philo, Moses alluded to this evocative power of religious rites in Numbers 28:2, where he divided sacrifices into “gifts” (dôra), “presents” (domata), and “fruits” (karpômata). Probably inspired by Plato’s tripartite division of goods in the Laws (1.631b–632c) into human or bodily, divine or ethical, and God himself as the highest good, Philo interprets these three kinds of offerings as an ascending hierarchy of material presents, the gifts of virtue, and the fruits “which feed the soul of him whose quest is the vision (of God)” (De Cherubim 84). This visionary experience, “unforeseen and unhoped for,” is brought about by “the sudden beam of self-inspired wisdom shining upon us and opening the closed eye of the soul” (De sacrificiis Abelis et Caini 78), and it represents the ultimate reward conferred by God to those who, “having advanced from down to up by a sort of heavenly ladder” (De praemiis et poenis 43), reached the threshold from which they could “gaze and soar beyond all things corporeal and incorporeal” (30). Philo often resorts to the vocabulary of mystery cults35 to convey this upward path toward the divine, from the “lesser mysteries” which liberate the soul from “the savage untamed passion” (De sacrificiis Abelis et Caini 62) to the “greater mysteries” of Moses imparting “the knowledge of the Cause and of virtue,” but also of “the third fruit engendered by both” (De Cherubim 48–49),

33 34

35

Translations adapted from Einarson & De Lacy, Moralia, vol. xiv, 109–121. “Dear to God” (theophilês) is Plato’s designation for those who take God as the measure (metron) of all things and strive for godlikeness (e.g., Laws 4.716cd); the epithet is used in the same sense by both Plutarch (e.g., Non posse 22.1102D: theophilestaton genos) and Philo (e.g., Praem. 43: hosioi kai gnêsioi therapeutai kai theophileis). See C. Riedweg, Mysterienterminologie bei Platon, Philon und Klemens von Alexandrien (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 1987) 70–115.

on the benefits of religious worship

103

which amounts to “a clear revelation (emphasis enargês) of the uncreated One” (Legum allegoriae 3.100). Such an emphatic use of mystery language is unlikely to reflects historical practices of “special groups celebrating the Jewish sacraments in their own (mystical) way,”36 but rather indicates Philo’s conviction that his ancestral religion, if approached with reason and pious reverence,37 is in itself a mystery cult. Plutarch is just as attentive as Philo to a symbolic dimension of religious observance. In his On Isis and Osiris, which offers a comprehensive analysis of the Isiac cult, he first sets out to discuss the regulative aspect of its ritual practices defined as “a continuous and temperate regimen and abstinence from many foods and the pleasures of love … keeping in check the unrestrained and pleasure-seeking elements, and accustoming one to undertake austere and difficult services in sacred rites, of which the end is the acquaintance (gnôsis) with the First and the Lord and the Intelligible” (2.351F–352A). Two

36

37

As hypothesized by E.R. Goodenough, “Literal Mystery in Hellenistic Judaism,” in R.P. Casey (ed.), Quantulacumque: Studies Presented to Kirsopp Lake (London: Christophers, 1937) 227–241; Goodenough’s attempt at historical reconstruction, partly based on Philo’s account of the Therapeutae and their contemplative practices (Contempl. 21–39, 64–90), was criticized, among others, already by A.D. Nock in his review of Goodenough’s By Light, Light (1935) in Gnomon 13 (1937) 156–165; cf. also Riedweg, Mysterienterminologie, 95–96. Or, as Philo puts it with reference to Abraham, a symbol of the soul pursuing the good by rational means, “with resolute reasoning and with unswerving and most steadfast faith” (Praem. 30). But Philo also speaks of the other two ways of obtaining a glimpse of divinity, typified by the “autodidact” Isaac and the Jacob the “practitioner” (askêtês), in which discursive thought and rational knowledge are bracketed and superseded by the unexpected gift of wisdom, gained “not from earthly or heavenly things … but at the summons of Him alone who has willed to reveal His existence to the suppliant” (44). Philo is careful to point out that these diverging ways of progressing in virtue and godlikeness are the complementary aspects or “modalities” (tropoi) of a single soul (Abr. 52–53), but he clearly favors the sudden and unhoped-for apprehension (katalêpsis) of God obtained “without the cooperation of reasoning” (Praem. 43) over “the discernment of the divine cause from created things by way of inference” (Leg. 3.102). In his own words, “when God causes the young shoots of autodidactic wisdom to spring up in the soul, the knowledge that comes from teaching must straightaway be suspended (perigraphein) and removed (perisurein) as it subsides and slips away even of itself” (Sacr. 79). Passages of this sort, scattered throughout the Philonic corpus, reveal a thinker who, in the words of J.-L. Chrétien, “made the sudden and unhoped for character of divine gifts the center of his thinking”—not just a traditionalist bound by prescriptions of Mosaic law but the proponent of lived religiosity in which the rational observance of “old and time-honored thoughts” and practices (Sacr. 78) is simultaneously retained and sublated in “the disposition of a soul hoping in the God who really is” (Det. 139). See J.-L. Chrétien, The Unforgettable and the Unhoped for, trans. by J. Bloechl (New York: Fordham University Press, 2002) 104–113.

104

pleše

things are particularly worth noticing in the passage: first, the ability to enter into communion with God is the function of a disciplined body; and secondly, the communion with God, which is the ultimate goal of Isiac initiation, is an instantaneous insight (gnôsis) rather than impregnable philosophical knowledge (epistêmê). In the ensuing chapters of the treatise, Plutarch moves on to discuss the symbolic dimension of the Egyptian cult and uncover its philosophical rationale. But as one climbs up the ladder of various rationalist interpretations of Isiac religion with Plutarch—from Euhemerism and Platonizing demonology through Stoic physical and psychological allegoresis to the highest level of ontological generalization (Isis as “matter in the homonymous sense”)—it becomes increasingly transparent that symbols have a series of layers made up of rational descriptions but also a non-linguistic core that reason cannot fully grasp. Just as in Philo, philosophy as a method of rational investigation is assigned an intermediate role in the intellect’s ascent to divinity, serving as a middle term between the education of bodily senses and a visionary or “epoptic” theology. As Plutarch states close to the end of his treatise, But the intellection (noêsis) of what is intelligible and pure and holy, having shone through the soul like lightning, affords only one chance to touch and behold it. For this reason, Plato and Aristotle call this part of philosophy “visionary” (epoptikon), in that those who have run past by force of reason the conjectural, mixed, and variegated matters spring up to the primal, simple, and immaterial principle; and having directly grasped the pure truth about it, they believe that they hold the ultimate end (telos) of philosophy in the manner of a mystic initiation. (De Iside et Osiride 77.382DE).

5

Conclusion

This article has argued that Philo’s and Plutarch’s unswerving commitment to ancestral religious mores and institutionalized forms of worship cannot be reduced to their antiquarian, apologetic and pedagogical-political interests. Religious observance is not just a pedagogical corrective for the hoi polloi and the instrument of political control but also, when accompanied with rational understanding, the way of attaining virtue and godlikeness. In that regard, both Philo and Plutarch belong to the strand of religious philosophy initiated by Plato’s anti-Protagorean statement in the Laws that “God is the measure of all things” and that to become “dear to God one must needs become, as

on the benefits of religious worship

105

much as possible, of like (virtuous) character” (4.716cd). Those endowed with reason (logos, dianoia) and intellect (nous), therefore, have the most to gain from partaking in worship because their rational mindset makes them naturally disposed to become settled in virtue and thus progress to an understanding of God. The sense of proximity to the divine, which results from the right (rational) observance of religious rites, brings about the positive emotions of “cheerful hope and exultant joy”38 manifested in public rituals. But this proximity is also indicative of the unbridgeable gap between God and man that cannot be overcome by rational effort. Both Philo and Plutarch are equally aware of the intrinsic weakness (astheneia) of discursive knowledge—Philo even speaks of human “nothingness” (oudeneia)—which has recently earned them the title of “metaphysical sceptics.”39 This epistemological impasse can only be resolved, or better sublated, by taking God, and not the logos of philosophy, as the standard of truth and by approaching him with love, infallible faith, and the unwavering hope in his sudden and direct revelation. In Philo’s words, “the definition of our complex being is a rational mortal animal, but what defines us according to Moses is the disposition of a soul hoping in the God who really is” (Quod deterius potiori insidiari soleat 139).

Bibliography Annas, J., “Philo on Virtue and the Law of Moses,” in id., Virtue and Law in Plato and Beyond (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017) 188–214. Annas, J., “Virtue and Law in Plato,” in C. Bobonich (ed.), Plato’s Laws: A Critical Guide (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010) 71–79. Babut, D., “La part du rationalisme dans la religion de Plutarque: l’exemple du De genio Socratis,” in id., Parerga: Choix d’articles 1974–1994 (Lyon: Maison Jean Pouillout, 1994) 431–456. Babut, D., “Du scepticisme au dépassement de la raison: philosophie et foi religieuse chez Plutarque,” in id., Parerga, 549–581. Berthelot, K., “Regards juifs alexandrins sur les religions,” RHR 4 (2017) 635–650.

38 39

Plu., Non posse 21.1101D–1102A. Thus M. Bonazzi in his article on Plutarch: “Le platonisme de Plutarque de Chéronée entre scepticisme, théologie et métaphysique,” in A.-I. Bouton & C. Lévy (eds.), Scepticisme et religion: Constantes et évolutions, de la philosophie hellénistique à la philosophie médievale (Turnout: Brepols, 2016) 75–88; for Philo’s “transcendental suspension of judgement” see C. Lévy, “De l’épochè sceptique à l’ épochè transcedentale: Philon d’Alexandrie fondateur du fidéisme,” ibid., 57–73.

106

pleše

Birnbaum, E., The Place of Judaism in Philo’s Thought: Isreal, Jews, and Proselytes (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1996). Bonazzi, M. “Le platonisme de Plutarque de Chéronée entre scepticisme, théologie et métaphysique,” in A.-I. Bouton & C. Lévy (eds.), Scepticisme et religion: Constantes et évolutions, de la philosophie hellénistique à la philosophie médievale (Turnout: Brepols, 2016) 75–88. Bonazzi, M., “Theoria and praxis: on Plutarch’s Platonism,” in T. Bénatouil & M. Bonazzi (eds.), Theoria and Praxis after Plato and Aristotle (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2012) 139– 161. Brenk, F., “An Imperial Heritage: The Religious Spirit of Plutarch of Chaironeia,” ANRW 2.36.1 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1987) 248–349 (repr. in F.E. Brenk, Plutarch, Religious Thinker and Biographer, ed. by L. Roig Lanzillotta & L. Lesage Garriaga [Brill’s Plutarch Studies 1, Leiden: Brill 2017]). Burkert, W., “Plutarco: religiosità personale e teologia filosofica,” in I. Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la religione: Atti del vi Convegno plutarcheo Ravello 1995 (Naples: M. D’Auria, 1996) 11–28 (German version in id., Kleine Schriften viii [Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2008] 222–239). Bury, R.G., Plato, vols. x–xi: Laws (LCL 187, 192, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1926). Calabi, F., God’s Acting, Man’s Acting: Tradition and Philosophy in Philo of Alexandria (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2008). Chrétien, J.-L., The Unforgettable and the Unhoped for, trans. by J. Bloechl (New York: Fordham University Press, 2002). Colson, F.H. & Whitaker, G.H., Philo, vols. i–ix (LCL 226–227, 247, 261, 275, 289, 320, 341, 363, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1929–1962). Dodds, E.R., “Plato and the Irrational,” JHS 65 (1945) 16–25. Einarson, B. & De Lacy, P.H., Plutarch: Moralia, vol. xiv (LCL 428, Cambridge, MA/London: Harvard University Press, 1967). Flacelière, R., “Plutarque dans ses ‘Oeuvres morales,’” in R. Flacelière, J. Irigoin, J. Sirinelli & A. Philippon (eds.), Plutarque: OEuvres morales, vol. i.1 (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1987) clxi–cc. Fraenkel, E., Philosophical Religions from Plato to Spinoza: Reason, Religion, and Autonomy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). Frazier, F., “Philosophie et religion dans la pensée de Plutarque: Quelques réflexions autour des emplois du mot πίστις,” Études platoniciennes 5. Le divin dans la tradition Platonicienne (2008) 41–61. Garland, R., The Greek Way of Death (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1985). Goodenough, E.R., “Literal Mystery in Hellenistic Judaism,” in R.P. Casey (ed.), Quantulacumque: Studies Presented to Kirsopp Lake (London: Christophers, 1937) 227–241. Griffiths, J.G., Plutarch’s De Iside et Osiride: Edited with an Introduction, Translation, and Commentary (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1970).

on the benefits of religious worship

107

Harl, M. (ed.), Philon d’Alexandrie: Quis rerum divinarum sit (Paris: Seuil, 1967). Hirsch-Luipold, R., “ὕλη θεολογίας: Religious Lore as Inter‘text’ in Plutarch’s Moralia,” in T. Schmidt, M. Vamvouri & R. Hirsch-Luipold (eds.), The Dynamics of Intertextuality in Plutarch (Leiden: Brill, 2020) 525–538. Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Plutarch,” in RAC 27 (2016) 1009–1037. Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Viele Bilder—ein Gott: Plutarchs polylatrischer Monotheismus,” in N. Hömke, G.F. Chiai & A. Jenik (eds.), Bilder von dem Einen Gott: Die Rhetorik in monotheistischen Gottesdarstellungen der Spätantike (Philologus suppl. 6, Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter, 2016) 43–68. Hunter, R., Hesiodic Voices: Studies in the Ancient Reception of Hesiod’s Works and Days (Cambridge/New York: Cambridge University Press, 2014). Jouët-Pastré, E., Le jeu et le sérieux dans les Lois de Platon (Sankt Augustin: Academia Verlag, 2006). Leonhardt-Balzer, J., “Jewish Worship and Universal Identity in Philo of Alexandria,” in J. Frey, D.R. Schwartz & S. Gripentrog (eds.), Jewish Identity in the Greco-Roman World (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2007) 29–53. Leonhardt-Balzer, J., Jewish Worship in Philo of Alexandria (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001). Lévy, C., “Philo of Alexandria,” in E.N. Zalta (ed.), The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy https://plato.stanford.edu /archives/spr2018/entries/philo/. Lévy, C., “De l’ épochè sceptique à l’ épochè transcedentale: Philon d’Alexandrie fondateur du fidéisme,” in Bouton & Lévy (eds.), Scepticisme et religion, 57–73. Lévy, C., “Philo’s Ethics,” in A. Kamesar (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Philo (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009) 146–171. Lévy, C., “La conversion du scepticisme chez Philon d’Alexandrie,” in F. Alesse (ed.), Philo of Alexandria and Post-Aristotelian Philosophy (Studies in Philo of Alexandria 5, Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2008) 103–120. Marzillo, P., Der Kommentar der Proklos zu Hesiods Werken und Tagen (Classica Monacensia 33, Tübingen: Narr Verlag, 2010). McPherran, M.M., “Platonic Religion,” in H.H. Benson (ed.), A Companion to Plato (Oxford: Blackwell, 2006) 244–259. Moreschini, C., “Religione e filosofia in Plutarco,” in Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la religione, 29–48. Nadaff, G., “Plato’s Theologia Revisited,” The Society for Ancient Greek Philosophy Newsletter 198 (1995) 1–17. Nock, A.D. “Review of Goodenough’s By Light, Light (1935),” Gnomon 13 (1937) 156–165. Pépin, J., “Rémarques sur la théorie de l’exégèse allégorique chez Philon,” in R. Arnaldez, C. Mondésert & J. Pouilloux (eds.), Philon d’Alexandrie, Lyon 11–15 septembre 1966 (Paris: Centre national de la recherche scientifique, 1967) 137–167. Riedweg, C., Mysterienterminologie bei Platon, Philon und Klemens von Alexandrien (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 1987).

108

pleše

Riel, G. Van, “Theology and Religiosity in the Greek Pagan Tradition,” in R. HirschLuipold & R.M. Calhoun (eds.), The Origins of New Testament Theology: A Dialogue with Hans Dieter Betz (WUNT 440, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2020) 93–118. Roig Lanzillota, L. & Muñoz Gallarte, I. (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse of Late Antiquity (Ancient Mediterranean and Medieval Texts and Contexts 14, Leiden: Brill, 2012). Runia, D.T., Philo of Alexandria: On the Creation of the Cosmos According to Moses. Introduction, Translation, and Commentary (Philo of Alexandria Commentary Series 1, Leiden: Brill, 2001). Runia, D.T., Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato (Leiden: Brill, 1986). Russell, D.A. Plutarch: Selected Essays and Dialogues (Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 1993). Sandbach, F.H., Plutarch: Moralia, vol. xv: Fragments (LCL 429, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1969). Schofield, M. (ed.), Plato: Laws, trans. by T. Griffith (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016). Sterling, G.E., “‘The Queen of the Virtues’: Piety in Philo of Alexandria,” SPhAn 18 (2006) 103–123. Veyne, P., “Les problèmes religieux d’un païen intelligent, Plutarque,” in id., L’Empire gréco-romain (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 2005) 761–819. Voegelin, E., Order and History, vol. 3: Plato and Aristotle, ed. by D. Germino (Columbia, MO: University of Missouri Press, 2000) 269–322. Weber, M., Economy and Society: An Outline of Interpretive Sociology, ed. by G. Roth & C. Wittich (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1978). Winston, D., The Ancestral Philosophy: Hellenistic Philosophy in Second Temple Judaism. Essays of David Winston, ed. by G.E. Sterling (Providence, RI: Brown Judaic Studies, 2001).

chapter 5

When East and West Meet: Eastern Religions and Western Philosophy in Philo of Alexandria and Plutarch of Chaeronea Gregory E. Sterling

Philo of Alexandria was a leading figure in the largest Jewish community of the Roman Empire who thought that Hellenistic philosophy offered the same understanding of reality that his native Judaism did.* He wrote: “For what comes to the adherents of the most esteemed philosophy, comes to the Jews through their laws and customs, namely the knowledge of the highest and most ancient Cause of all and the rejection of the deception of created gods.”1 Plutarch of Chaeronea was a priest at Delphi and Middle Platonic philosopher. In his treatise On Isis and Osiris, he wrote: “There is nothing to be alarmed about if, in the first place, they hold the gods in common with us and neither make them the gods of the Egyptians alone nor understand by these names the Nile and only the land the Nile waters nor claim that the marshes and lotus-flowers are the only work of the gods.” He explained: “since this would deprive other people who do not have a Nile or Buto or Memphis of great gods.” He concluded: “But all have and know Isis and the gods with her, even though some only recently learned to address them by Egyptian names; they have known and honored the power of each from the beginning.”2 These two statements suggest that Philo, an Easterner, and Plutarch, a Westerner, perceived an underlying reality beneath Eastern sacred texts and myths and Western philosophy, an underlying unity about the divine.3 I would like

* An earlier version of this essay appeared in SPhiloA 28 (2016) 137–150. 1 Philo, Virt. 65. All translations are my own unless otherwise noted. Cf. Clem. Al., Strom. 1.5.28, for the same judgment. Aristobul., fr. 4 (= Eus., PE 13.12.8 [C.R. Holladay, Fragments from Hellenistic Jewish Authors, vol. 3: Aristobulus (Atlanta, GA: Scholar’s Press, 1995)]), made a similar argument when he said: “It is agreed upon by all philosophers that it is necessary to hold pious convictions about God.” 2 Plu., De. Is. et. Os. 377C–D. See also 351C–E, 354C–D, 369B–D, 376A. 3 While Alexander united the world politically, the cultural divide between East and West was still a reality, at least from the perspective of someone like Josephus who drew a distinction between Eastern historiography and Hellenic historiography in CA 1.6–56.

© Gregory E. Sterling, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004505070_007

110

sterling

to explore this agreement in more detail.4 In particular, I want to explore their understandings of the First Cause or Principle—to use philosophical language—and the reasons that led them to reach similar, although not identical conclusions about God.5 I will explore three factors that contributed to their common approach as a means of organizing our inquiry.

1

Philosophical Monotheism

I will call the first reason philosophical monotheism. For the last fifteen years there has been a debate over ‘pagan monotheism’. In contrast to the view that monotheism was the distinctive view of Jews and Christians in the ancient world, a number of scholars have argued that monotheism was relatively widespread in late antiquity, especially in the first century bce forward.6 The main challenge to pagan monotheism is the lack of evidence for monotheistic cults. Even in the case of Theos Hypsistos where a cult is attested, there has been debate whether the cult was monotheistic or polytheistic. 1.1 The Background Fortunately, it is not necessary for our purposes to settle this debate. One of the areas where the issue is relatively secure is in ancient philosophy. Sextus Empiricus, the second century Sceptic, noted that dogmatic thinkers distinguished between active and passive principles, but only really considered the active principle as a true principle. He wrote: “Therefore since the majority declare that God is a most efficient cause, let us begin our investigation with God.”7 Similarly, Trypho, asked Justin Martyr, “Don’t the philosophers talk all 4 I addressed the areas of agreement in very broad terms in an earlier article: “Platonizing Moses: Philo and Middle Platonism,” SPhiloA 5 (1993) 96–111. 5 There have been two important treatments that compare the understanding of God in Philo and Plutarch: R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Der eine Gott bei Philon von Alexandrien und Plutarch,” in id. (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch: Götterbilder—Gottesbilder—Weltbilder (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2005) 141–168 and F.E. Brenk, “Philo and Plutarch on the Nature of God,” SPhiloA 26 (2014) 79–92. For recent comparisons of Philo and Plutarch that approach their relationship as analogous see M.R. Niehoff, “Philo and Plutarch as Biographers: Parallel Responses to Roman Stoicism,” GRBS 52 (2012) 361–392 and id., “Philo and Plutarch on Homer,” in id. (ed.), Homer and the Bible in the Eyes of Ancient Interpreters (Leiden: Brill, 2012) 128–153. 6 The most important works are P. Athanassiadi & M. Frede (eds.), Pagan Monotheism in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999) and S. Mitchell & P. Van Nuffelen, One God: Pagan Monotheism in the Roman Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010). 7 Sext. Emp., Pyr. 3.2.

when east and west meet

111

the time about God and do not their enquiries always concern divine monarchy and providence.”8 Olympiodorus, a sixth century commentator on Plato, wrote: “we too are aware that the first cause is one, namely God; for there cannot be many first causes. Indeed the first does not even have a name.”9 While these statements do not represent the complexity of the various conceptions of God as held by ancient philosophers, they do point to the fact that many ancient philosophers believed in a supreme cause which they often called God.10 It was certainly true of Aristotle’s Unmoved Mover (even if the Stagirite did not attribute universal providence to the Unmoved Mover)11 and the Stoa (although the Stoic God was material)12 and the Platonists, especially the Middle and Neoplatonists. The key figure in the formulation of the understanding of the First Principle within Middle Platonism was Eudorus who worked in Alexandria in the first century bce.13 Under Pythagorean influence, Eudorus elevated the First Principle to a new level of transcendence. Simplicius preserved Eudorus’s basic view: “Eudorus writes about these things in the following way: ‘According to the doctrine above it must be said that the Pythagoreans claim that the One is the principle of all things, but according to a second doctrine there are two principles of the things produced: the One and the nature contrary to it.’”14 He continued: “they claim that the One is the principle of all including matter and all that comes into existence from it. This they say is the

8 9

10 11 12

13 14

Just. Mart., Dial. 1.3. Olymp., In Gorg. 32 (L.G. Westerink, [ed.], In Platonis Gorgiam commentaria [Leipzig: Vieweg/Teubner, 1970]). Cf. also 246: “The philosophers believe that the principle of all there is is one, and that the cause which is first of all causes and supercelestial is one. From it derives everything. But they did not even call it by a name.” Both citations are from P. Athanassiadi & M. Frede, “Introduction,” in Athanassiadi & Frede, Pagan Monotheism in Late Antiquity, 10–11. For an overview see M. Frede, “Monotheism and Pagan Philosophy in Later Antiquity,” in Athanassiadi & Frede, Pagan Monotheism in Late Antiquity, 41–67. Arist., Metaph., 12.7.4–9 (1072b). On Stoic theology see K. Algra, “Stoic Theology,” in B. Inwood (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to the Stoics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003) 153–178 (esp. 165–170). See the summary of the Stoic conception in Diog. Laert. 7.147: “They consider the deity to be a living creature, immortal, rational, perfect or intelligent in happiness, refusing every evil, provident for both the cosmos and all that is in it. They think that God is not anthropomorphic. They think that God is the Demiurge of the universe and, as it were, the father of all both in general and in that part of him that permeates everything which is called by many names based on its powers.” The first part of the summary sounds monotheistic; the final statement indicates the Stoa’s openness to speak of the traditional gods. For the fragments see C. Mazzarelli, “Raccolta e interpretazione delle testimonianze e dei frammenti del medio platonico Eudoro di Alessandria,” RFN 77 (1985) 197–209, 535–555. Eud., fr. 3 (= Simp., In Ph. 181.7 ff. [Mazzarelli, “Raccolta e interpretazione”]).

112

sterling

God above (ὁ ὑπεράνω θεός).”15 Eudorus elevated the One, or God, above all. The Alexandrian posited two other principles with the God above all: another One, or the Monad representing order, and its opposite, the Dyad representing disorder or chaos. God is thus not the sole principle, but is the highest principle and is transcendent over all including the Monad and the Dyad. While the preserved fragments are not explicit, it is possible that Eudorus thought that the One transcended all attributes, a view that would make him the first to represent a via negativa. Whether this was the case or not, Eudorus set the stage for the Platonists that followed. 1.2 Philo Philo of Alexandria certainly found Eudorus’s views attractive. As an observant Jew, Philo embraced monotheism.16 At the conclusion of De opificio mundi, the Alexandrian commentator listed five tenets that he considered to be essential for comprehending the Pentateuch correctly.17 The five are: God is eternal, God is one, the cosmos was created, the cosmos is one not many, and finally, God exercises providence over the cosmos. The affirmations that God is eternal, God is one, and that God exercises providence over the cosmos are statements that Platonists and Stoics could also make. Philo, however, understood God much more like Eudorus than Academic Platonists or Stoics.18 This becomes clear in his treatment of the Greek translation of Exod 3:14: ἐγώ εἰμι ὁ ὤν. The Jewish interpreter of the Pentateuch drew from the famous statement in Exod 3:14 to refer to God by using either the words from the biblical text (ὁ ὤν) or by adapting it to a Platonized expres-

15 16

17

18

Eud., fr. 4 (= Simp., In Ph. 181.17 ff. [Mazzarelli, “Raccolta e interpretazione”]). On Philo’s understanding of God see D.T. Runia, “Philo the Theologian,” in T.A. Hart (ed.), The Dictionary of Historical Theology (Grand Rapids, MI: Peeter’s, 2000) 424–426 and G.E. Sterling, “The First Theologian: The Originality of Philo of Alexandria,” in M.W. Hamilton et al. (eds.), Renewing Tradition: Studies in Texts with Contexts in Honor of James W. Thompson (Eugene, OR: Wipf/Stock, 2007) 145–162. Philo, Opif. 170–172. E.R. Goodenough, An Introduction to Philo of Alexandria (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1962, 2nd ed.) 37–38, thought that these were a creedal formulation. D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria, On the Creation of the Cosmos: Introduction, Translation, and Commentary (Leiden: Brill, 2001) 391–394, has more plausibly argued that they are preliminary concepts that one must accept to read the Pentateuch correctly in Philo’s view. At the same time, the five are not neatly connected with the contents of Opif. and may represent a traditional formulation—although calling it creedal is anachronistic as Runia recognizes. See M. Bonazzi, “Towards Transcendence: Philo and the Renewal of Platonism in the Early Imperial Age,” in F. Alesse (ed.), Philo of Alexandria and Post-Aristotelian Philosophy (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2008) 233–251.

when east and west meet

113

sion (τὸ ὄν). So Philo drew directly from the biblical text by calling God “the one who is Being” (ὁ ὤν),19 “the God who is actually Being” (ὁ ὄντως ὢν θεός),20 and “the one who is truly Being” (ὁ ὤν πρὸς ἀλήθειαν).21 He played with the relationship between the biblical text and Plato’s Timaeus when he called God “Being” (τὸ ὄν),22 “actual Being” (τὸ ὄντως ὄν),23 or “true Being” (τὸ πρὸς ἀλήθειαν ὄν).24 For Philo God was Being above all else and unnameable. He made this explicit in his explanations of Exod 3:14. In the first passage where he explained the text, he wrote: “God alone exists in being (ἐν τῷ εἶναι ὑφέστηκεν). For this reason, he will necessarily say of him: ‘I am the one who is Being (ἐγώ εἰμι ὁ ὤν).’ ” Philo went on to point to an ontological divide between God and everything else: “those things after him are not in the realm of being (οὐκ ὄντων κατὰ τὸ εἶναι), but are only thought to exist by opinion.”25 In another passage where he interpreted Exod 3:14, he added a secondary lemma that explained Gen 32:29 in which God refused to disclose the divine name to Jacob. Philo wrote: “If in fact God is unnameable (ἄρρητος), then he is also inconceivable (ἀπερινόητος) and incomprehensible (ἀκατάληπτος).”26 This is a clear formulation of Philo’s negative theology, a theology that assumes the transcendent nature of God.27 1.3 Plutarch Plutarch has a similar perspective, although it is not clear whether the details represent his understanding or that of his teacher, Ammonius.28 For our purposes we will only address areas where Ammonius and Plutarch shared a common perspective. In The E at Delphi, Plutarch related a conversation that

19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27

28

E.g., Ph., Sacr. 10; Det. 92; Mut. 82; Abr. 121. E.g., Ph., Det. 139. E.g., Ph., Mut. 11. E.g., Ph., Det. 153, 154; Post. 2, 9, 15, 21, 28, 168, 175. E.g., Ph., Det. 161; Deus 11; Ebr. 83; Congr. 51. E.g., Ph., Abr. 80; Mos. 2.67. Ph., Det. 160. Ph., Mut. 15. For recent treatments of Philo’s negative theology see D. Carabine, The Unknown God: Negative Theology in the Platonic Tradition. Plato to Eriugena (Grand Rapids, MI: Peeter’s, 1995) 191–221 and C. Noack, Gottesbewusstein: Exegetische Studien zur Soteriologie und Mystik bei Philon von Alexandria (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000) esp. 63–67. On ἀκατάληπτος see also L.A. Montes-Peral, Akataleptos Theos: Der unfassbare Gott (Leiden: Brill, 1987). See F.E. Brenk, “Plutarch’s Middle-Platonic God: About to Enter (or Remake) the Academy,” in Hirsch-Luipold (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch, 27–49.

114

sterling

attempted to explain the letter Ε, the fifth letter of the Greek alphabet that was used in association with Apollo at Delphi. Each speaker in the dialogue offered a different explanation of the significance of the letter. The final discourse is reserved for Ammonius, Plutarch’s Egyptian teacher who had relocated to Athens. Ammonius understood the Ε to be εἶ, a form of address to the God. About God, Ammonius said: “But God (ὁ θεός) exists—if there is any need to say so—and exists without any limit of time but for eternity that is immovable, timeless, and unchanging in which there is no earlier, no later, no future, no past, no older, and no younger.” He explained: “But being One (εἷς ὤν), he has filled eternity with one now. True being only exists according to his pattern: it has not come into existence, it is not about to be nor did it begin nor will it cease.”29 Ammonius went on to argue: “For the Deity (τὸ θεῖον) is not many … but Being must be one just as one must be Being (ἀλλ’ ἓν εἶναι δεῖ τὸ ὄν, ὥσπερ ὂν τὸ ἕν).” For this reason, Ammonius contended, it was appropriate to call the Deity Apollo: “For he is Apollo, that is to say denying the many (a play on the privative α—and πολλός or πολύς = not many) and rejecting plurality.”30 Like Eudorus and Philo, Ammonius and Plutarch elevate the Deity to be the First Cause. Like Philo, Plutarch identified the transcendent God with Being. Apart from the identification of the Deity with Apollo, there is nothing in the sections of the speech that we have cited that Philo could not have said. I do not want to suggest that the Alexandrian Jew and the Greek priest had identical understandings of God; they did not.31 Philo would not have been comfortable making connections between local cults and the transcendent God as Plutarch did. The two also differed on important issues such as whether the language about creation in Plato’s Timaeus should be understood literally (so Plutarch) or metaphorically (so Philo).32 They did, however, agree that God was the First Cause and was transcendent over all. In this way they can both be considered to embrace philosophical monotheism.

29 30 31

32

Plu., De E 393A–B. Plu., De E 393B–C. On Philo’s willingness to accommodate to the larger world and his limits see D.T. Runia, “Worshipping the Visible Gods: Conflict and Accommodation in Hellenism, Hellenistic Judaism, and Early Christianity,” in A. Houtman et al. (eds.), Empsychoi Logoi: Religious Innovations in Antiquity. Studies in Honor of Pieter Willem van der Horst (Leiden: Brill, 2008) 47–61 (esp. 54–57), who deals with the celestial bodies. For a summary of their views see G.E. Sterling, “Creatio temporalis, aeterna, vel continua? An Analysis of the Thought of Philo of Alexandria,” SPhiloA 4 (1992) 15–41 (esp. 27–28 for Plutarch and 33–41 for Philo).

when east and west meet

2

115

Philosophical Religion

There is a second area where Philo and Plutarch also agree as a result of their ties to Platonism: philosophical religion.33 While Platonists might, in general, reflect this orientation, there are some areas that Philo and Plutarch share that are striking. 2.1 The Background Plutarch rounded off his discussion of God as Being by pointing to the significance of εἶ (“you are”) at the conclusion of Ammonius’s speech: “Therefore as we honor him we should greet and address him with ‘you are’ (εἶ); or even, by Zeus, like some of old, ‘you are one (εἶ ἕν).’”34 It was not uncommon for philosophers to express a sense of piety towards God as Cleanthes’s Hymn to Zeus or the prayers of Epictetus demonstrate.35 What sets Philo and Plutarch apart is their association of an ancestral cult or local cults with their understanding of the divine.36 At the conclusion of book two of Cicero’s On the nature of the gods, Balbus, a Stoic, reminded Cotta, an Academic, that he was a pontifex. In the opening of the next book, Cotta replied that this was to remind him that he should uphold “the views about the immortal gods which we have received from the ancients and the rites, ceremonies, and religious duties.” He affirmed that he did, but that in matters of religion, he followed the lead of the pontifices rather than Stoic philosophers.37 He had the same functions as Plutarch as a priest and a Platonic philosopher, but appears to have kept the roles of pontifex and philosopher separated. This was likely true of many ancient philosophers who could offer a sacrifice for civic or social purposes, but maintain a separate intellectual system. Philo and Plutarch did not keep the two separate. They were not unique in relating the two: Chaeremon, the Egyptian priest and Stoic philosopher had the same orientation.38 The practice is, however, distinctive enough that it merits attention.

33

34 35 36 37 38

The concept of philosophical religion was common among Platonists. See W. Burkert, Greek Religion: Archaic and Classical, trans. John Raffan (Oxford: Blackwell, 1985) 305–337, who pointed to the central place of Plato in the development of philosophical religion. Plu., De E 393B. The most famous example is Epict., Ench. 53.1–2. On Epictetus’s piety see A.A. Long, Epictetus: A Stoic and Socratic Guide to Life (Oxford/New York: Clarendon Press, 2002) 147. Hirsch-Luipold, “Der eine Gott,” has addressed this more fully than anyone else. Cic., ND 2.168; 3.5–6. On Chaeremon, see Sterling, “Platonizing Moses,” 103–105, for details.

116

sterling

2.2 Philo Philo’s commitment to religion was so keen that Jerome reported that he was a “priest by lineage.”39 While this is the only testimonium that attributes a priestly lineage to Philo40—some have suggested that he was a Sadducee41—and is therefore suspect,42 there can be no doubt that Philo was committed to the observance of Jewish traditions. In a famous passage in which he sparred with those who argued that the symbolic meanings of Jewish rites suspended the need to observe them, Philo remonstrated and insisted on keeping Jewish practices.43 In his commentaries on the Pentateuch he laid particular emphasis on circumcision, Sabbath observance, dietary regulations, endogamous marriage, and Yom Kippur.44 On at least one occasion he made a pilgrimage to the Jerusalem temple.45 Throughout his expositions of the law God is central: it is fair to say that his thought is theocentric.46 Philo did not make a division between his observance of the Jewish law and his philosophical thinking, but used the latter to explain the former. In this regard Philo was far more like Chaeremon, one of his Egyptian opponents, than he was like Cotta. It is in this sense that we may speak of a philosophical religion with respect to Philo. 2.3 Plutarch Plutarch had a similar point of orientation. He was a priest of Apollo at Delphi and, like Philo, committed to the continuation of a cult. Unlike Philo who inherited a monotheistic tradition, Plutarch’s πάτριος πίστις was polytheistic and associated different deities with various cults. Plutarch’s task was therefore more complex: it involved relating different cults to the One Transcendent Cause. We noted one of the ways that he did this in our opening citation from On Isis and Osiris: “But all have and know Isis and the gods with her, even

39 40 41

42

43 44 45 46

Jerome, Vir. ill. 11. The Suda appears to repeat this, s.v. Φίλων. E.g., E.R. Goodenough, By Light, Light: The Mystic Gospel of Hellenistic Judaism (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1935) 78–80 and D.R. Schwarz, “Philo’s Priestly Descent,” in F.E. Greenspahn et al. (eds.), Nourished with Peace: Studies in Hellenistic Judaism in Memory of Samuel Sandmel (Chico, CA: Scholar’s Press, 1984) 155–171 (esp. 166–170). Schwartz, “Philo’s Priestly Descent,” is the most important defender of the tradition. The most important counter voice is S.S. Foster, “A Note on the ‘Note’ of J. Schwartz,” SPhilo 4 (1976–1977) 25–32. Ph., Migr. 89–93. For details see A. Mendelson, Philo’s Jewish Identity (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1988). Ph., Prov. 2.64. Philo refers to θεός 2480×. It is the most frequent noun in the Philonic corpus.

when east and west meet

117

though some only recently learned to address them by Egyptian names; they have known and honored the power of each from the beginning.”47 In this statement, Plutarch simply identified local deities with Isis. This was a standard move for many, including Jews like Aristobulus48 and Pseudo-Aristeas,49 two second century bce Jewish authors who argued that Zeus was another name for the God of the Jews. By arguing that one God has multiple names, Plutarch could refer to the gods and still hold to a single First Principle. There were other options. Belief in a transcendent God did not mean that there were no other divine beings. This was as true for Jews and Christians as it was for ancient philosophers like Plutarch. It is worth noting that Plutarch could open On Isis and Osiris by referring to οἱ θεοί, ὁ θεός, and τὸ θεῖον, all within three sentences in the Greek.50 Philo could use the last two, but would not routinely use the plural θεοί in the same way that Plutarch did. Here the distinction between the Jewish monotheist and the Greek priest and philosopher becomes important. What was a natural concept and expression for Plutarch was a foreign concept and expression for Philo. While Philo began with an inherited religion and turned to philosophy, Plutarch began as a philosopher and turned to the explanation of cults, whether Apollo or the Egyptian myth of Isis and Osiris. In this way we may speak of both as adherents of philosophical religion or religious philosophy. Perhaps we could say that Philo was a representative of the former and Plutarch of the latter, as long as we do not push the distinction between the adjective and the noun beyond recognizing their starting points.

3

Primitive Wisdom

A third factor that affected their common perspective was their acceptance of primitive wisdom. By primitive wisdom I mean the view developed by the Stoics51 and accepted by Platonists that ancient peoples had developed a common wisdom that philosophy could uncover.52

47 48 49 50 51 52

Plu., De Is. et Os. 377D. Aristob., fr. 5 (= Eus., PE 13.12.7 [Holladay]). Ps.-Aristeas 15–16 (M. Hadas, Aristeas to Philocrates [New York: Harper, 1973]). Plu., De Is. et Os. 351C–D. On the Stoic view see D. Dawson, Allegorical Readers and Cultural Revision in Ancient Alexandria (Berkeley: University of Cal. Press, 1992) 24–38. G.R. Boys-Stones, Post-Hellenistic Philosophy: A Study of its Development from the Stoics to Origen (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001) 99–122.

118

sterling

3.1 The Background Celsus, the second century Platonist and opponent of Christianity, expressed the concept of primitive wisdom succinctly. Origen preserved his view: “Thinking that the same doctrine unites the thought of many nations, Celsus names all those nations which take this dogma as their starting point.” Origen then quoted Celsus: “‘There is an ancient doctrine from the beginning of time (ἀρχαῖος ἄνωθεν λόγος), that has always been maintained by the wisest nations and cities and wise men.’” However, Origen informs us: “he did not want to speak of the Jews as one of the ‘wisest nations’ on a par with the Egyptians, Assyrians, Indians, Persians, Odrysians, Samothracians, and Eleusinians.”53 Celsus could not bring himself to recognize the views of Jews—probably because he understood too well the connection between Judaism and Christianity—still he argued that ancient people preserved a common wisdom. Celsus was not alone in recognizing primitive wisdom. His contemporary, Numenius held a similar but more expansive view. He explained his understanding of the history of philosophy in these words: “With respect to this it will be necessary, after having stated and interpreted the testimonies of Plato, to return to and unite them with the views of Pythagoras, then to summon the highly regarded nations, adducing their rites, teachings, and basic tenets as far as they concur with Plato—whatever the Brahmans, Jews, Magi, and Egyptians have to say.”54 Numenius, like Celsus, understood that there was a unity of thought in these ancient peoples and in their more recent philosophical counterparts. He had a three-stage process for his own work that moved from (a) Plato to (b) Pythagoras to (c) the nations. It is the fact that he incorporated the nations of the East—including the Jews—that demonstrates his embrace of primitive wisdom.55 3.2 Philo Did Philo hold such a view? Some have thought that Philo argued for the theft of philosophy, i.e., the Greeks stole their thought from the East. A classic example of this is Philo’s second century bce predecessor Aristobulus who argued that Plato stole his philosophy from Moses. He knew that Plato had visited Egypt before the LXX appeared. His solution was to posit an earlier translation!56 53 54 55

56

Origen, Cels. 1.14. Fr. 1a (= Eus., PE 9.7.1 [E. des Places, Numénius Fragments, {Paris: Belles Lettres, 2003, 2nd edn.}]). On Numenius’s view of Eastern peoples, esp. the Jews, see G.E. Sterling, “The Theft of Philosophy: Philo of Alexandria and Numenius of Apamea,” SPhiloA 27 (2015) 71–85 (esp. 76–80). Aristob., fr. 3 (= Eus., PE 13.12.1–2 [Holladay]).

when east and west meet

119

While this type of argumentation is a central feature in the work of Aristobulus, it is a footnote in Philo. Philo knew the argument and occasionally used it. He argued that Heraclitus appropriated Moses’s principle of opposites57 and the view that life in the body is death.58 Similarly Philo argued that Moses was the source for Zeno’s famous paradox on slavery.59 In other texts he argued for the historical priority of Moses without making the claim of theft, for example, that Zeno’s formulation of the telos of living according to nature was earlier expressed by a higher authority.60 While these examples could be expanded, their number is quite limited. There is another set of texts that illuminates Philo’s basic stance. The biblical text affirmed four times that Moses made the tabernacle on the basis of the model that he saw on the mount.61 In his Questions and Answers, Philo cited three of these texts and argued that the pattern that Moses saw was the incorporeal Platonic ideas.62 He repeated the thought in his Life of Moses: “He (Moses) saw within his soul the incorporeal ideas of the corporeal objects that were about to be made. It was necessary that the sense-perceptible copies be shaped according to these, as if from an archetypal picture and noetic patterns.”63 The final phrase is an allusion to Exod 25:8. For Philo the Platonic ideas did not need to be read into the Pentateuch; they were already in it. They only needed to be read out of it. In these instances there is no hint that Plato took his position from Moses. It is rather that Moses wrote Platonism into the Pentateuch. Plato later recognized the same reality. Philo was able to make discoveries like this through allegorical interpretation. Like the Stoics, he found allegory as a means of recovering the thought that had been hidden in the text. He made the point explicitly in several texts.64 Perhaps the most famous is his statement about the reading practices of the Therapeutae, a statement that reflects his own understanding of interpretation: “For they read the sacred writings and practice their ancestral philosophy through allegorical interpretation, since they regard the words of the literal meaning as symbols of a hidden nature which is revealed through the underly-

57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64

Ph., Her. 214; QG 3.5. Ph., Leg. 1.108; QG 4.152. Ph., Prob. 53–57, esp. 57. Ph., Prob. 160. Exod 25:8 (MT 9); 25:40; 26:30; 27:8. Exod 25:8 in QE 2.52; Exod 25:40 in QE 2.82; and Exod 26:30 in QE 2.90. Ph., Mos. 2.74. See also 2.76 that cited Exod 25:40. See, for example, Sacr. 1; Migr. 34–35; QG 4.89, 241.

120

sterling

ing meaning.”65 For Philo allegorical interpretation was the means of exposing the underlying thought of the Pentateuch: it was not invention; it was discovery. There is, however, a limitation. For Philo this was true of the writings of Moses, but not of all peoples in the East. Here he differs markedly from Celsus and Numenius. Philo would not, for example, have accorded the Egyptians the position that he did Plato.66 In this regard he had a more limited version of primitive wisdom than Numenius, even than Celsus. Yet even with this limitation, his work was appreciated by Numenius who found enough agreement between Jewish thought and Platonism in the works of Philo that he adapted Philo’s exegesis of Exod 3:14 into his own work.67 Numenius did so, in part, because the basic presupposition about primitive wisdom was already in place in Philo. Philo might have been a partisan representative of primitive wisdom in Numenius’s eyes, but he was a representative. 3.3 Plutarch Plutarch was much more forthright about his embrace of primitive wisdom than Philo. Plutarch wrote: “Ancient natural philosophy (ἡ παλαιὰ φυσιολογία) among both Greeks and barbarians, took the form of an account of nature hidden in mythology, veiled for the most part in riddles and hints, or of a theology such as is found in mystery ceremonies in which what is spoken is less clear to the masses than what is unsaid, and what is unsaid gives cause for more speculation than what is said.”68 In another text, the priest of Delphi criticized the Ionians for introducing idolatry into Greece. The fragment that preserves his position describes Plutarch’s view in this way: “Plutarch, censuring them by the ancient philosophy (ἡ παλαιὰ φιλοσοφία) that was approved among Greeks and foreign nations, declared that certain of them introduced the erroneous use of images.”69 In other words, primitive wisdom took precedence over later idolatry. Unsurprisingly, Plutarch used allegory as a means of uncovering primitive wisdom. The clearest example of this is his treatise On Isis and Osiris that used allegory to interpret the Egyptian myth. In the treatise he explained his modus 65

66 67 68 69

Ph., Contempl. 28, ἐντυγχάνοντες γὰρ τοῖς ἱεροῖς γράμμασι φιλοσοφοῦσι τὴν πάτριον φιλοσοφίαν ἀλληγοροῦντες, ἐπειδὴ σύμβολα τὰ τῆς ῥητῆς ἑρμηνείας νομίζουσιν ἀποκεκρυμμένης φύσεως ἐν ὑπονοίας δηλουμένης. I understand τὴν πάτριον φιλοσοφίαν to be a cognate accusative with φιλοσοφοῦσι rather than an object of ἀλληγοροῦντες which is also a syntactical possibility. For Philo’s assessment of Egypt as the land of the body see S. Pearce, The Land of the Body: Studies in Philo’s Representation of Egypt (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007). For details see Sterling, “The Theft of Philosophy,” 71–85. Plu., fr. 157 (= Eus., PE 3.1.1). Plu., fr. 190.

when east and west meet

121

operandi: “one must not treat myths as if they were entirely historical, but we should take what is appropriate from each in keeping with its verisimilitude.” He went on to say: “we provide the soul itself and the mind of a person as the basic material of knowledge and of virtue for Reason to decorate and to harmonize; some have declared the mind to be the place of ideas and, as it were, the impression of thoughts.”70 Plutarch rejected a literal understanding of the myths and argued that humans should use their minds to understand the real message. The method that he used to uncover the meaning for the human mind was allegorical interpretation by which he explained the symbols. Plutarch was more explicit about the role of philosophically trained reason and its importance in a later statement: “they use sacred symbols—some vague symbols and others more distinct symbols—in guiding the understanding to the divine, although not without risk.” He explained: “for some are completely baffled and are lost in superstition; while others flee superstition as a bog and oblivious fall in turn—as if into a ravine—into atheism.” Plutarch then laid out the way to avoid the dangers of superstition and atheism: “so then it is necessary, especially with respect to these things, that we take reason from philosophy as a guide and reverently reflect on each of the things said and done.”71 Like Philo who thought that the Pentateuch was primarily about God, Plutarch argued that the Egyptian symbols teach us about the divine. He worked to make sure that his readers would avoid the extremes produced by naïve interpretations and recognize the underlying realities offered by allegorical interpretation. Philo could have written the same sentence. These statements explain why a Middle Platonic Greek philosopher would interpret the myth of Isis and Osiris. Just as Philo interpreted Moses via allegory, so Plutarch offered allegorical interpretations of Egyptian myths and the letter E at Delphi. The assumption behind both Philo and Plutarch was that there was a unity of knowledge that only required explication.

4

Conclusions

These observations suggest that both Philo and Plutarch thought that they could find a transcendent God in ancient religious texts or myths from the East: in Philo’s case God was found in the writings of Moses and in Plutarch’s case God was found in the myths of the Egyptians. The assumption was based on the

70 71

Plu., De Is.et Os. 374E–F. Plu., De Is.et Os. 378A–B.

122

sterling

premise that philosophy was embedded within those texts and only needed to be read out of them via allegoresis. They were not unique in this regard; it was a common perspective among Middle Platonists. Yet they may have been different than many others because they related their understanding of God to the cults that they served. This was not simply an intellectual exercise; it was an existential and social perspective. In this way they stood apart from many of their peers. There were differences between them, even important differences. The point d’ appui was different for each: Philo began with a monotheistic tradition and devoted his life to demonstrating how his ancestral texts contained a philosophical understanding of God and humanity. Plutarch began as a philosopher and a priest in a polytheistic society who saw the value of relating an Egyptian myth and local cult inscriptions to the Transcendent First Principle. One was an Easterner who believed that an eastern Moses and a western Plato had the same conception of God. The other was a Westerner who believed that a western Plato and eastern myths had the same conception of God. Together they illustrate how the East met the West and how the West met the East in the context of Hellenistic philosophical and religious thought.

Bibliography Algra, K., “Stoic Theology,” in B. Inwood (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to the Stoics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003) 153–178. Athanassiadi, P. & Frede, M. (eds.), Pagan Monotheism in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999). Bonazzi, M., “Towards Transcendence: Philo and the Renewal of Platonism in the Early Imperial Age,” in F. Alesse (ed.), Philo of Alexandria and Post-Aristotelian Philosophy (SPhA 5, Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2008) 233–251. Boys-Stones, G.R. Post-Hellenistic Philosophy: A Study of its Development from the Stoics to Origen (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001). Brenk, F.E., “Philo and Plutarch on the Nature of God,” SPhiloA 26 (2014) 79–92. Brenk, F.E., “Plutarch’s Middle-Platonic God: About to Enter (or Remake) the Academy,” in R. Hirsch-Luipold (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch: Götterbilder—Gottesbilder—Weltbilder (RVV 54, Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2005) 27–49. Burkert, W., Greek Religion: Archaic and Classical, trans. John Raffan (Oxford: Blackwell, 1985). Carabine, D., The Unknown God: Negative Theology in the Platonic Tradition. Plato to Eriugena (Louvain Theological and Pastoral Monographs 19, Grand Rapids, MI: Peeter’s, 1995).

when east and west meet

123

Foster, S.S., “A Note on the ‘Note’ of J. Schwartz,” SPhilo 4 (1976–1977) 25–32. Frede, M., “Monotheism and Pagan Philosophy in Later Antiquity,” in Athanassiadi & Frede, Pagan Monotheism in Late Antiquity, 41–67. Goodenough, E.R., An Introduction to Philo of Alexandria (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1962, 2nd ed.). Goodenough, E.R., By Light, Light: The Mystic Gospel of Hellenistic Judaism (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1935). Hadas, M., Aristeas to Philocrates (New York: Harper, 1973). Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Der eine Gott bei Philon von Alexandrien und Plutarch,” in id. (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch, 141–168. Holladay, C.R., Fragments from Hellenistic Jewish Authors, vol. 3: Aristobulus (SBLTT 39/ SBL Pseudepigrapha Series 13, Atlanta, GA: Scholar’s Press, 1995). Long, A.A., Epictetus: A Stoic and Socratic Guide to Life (Oxford/New York: Clarendon Press, 2002). Mazzarelli, C., “Raccolta e interpretazione delle testimonianze e dei frammenti del medio platonico Eudoro di Alessandria,” RFN 77 (1985) 197–209, 535–555. Mendelson, A., Philo’s Jewish Identity (BJS 161, Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1988). Mitchell, S. & Van Nuffelen, P., One God: Pagan Monotheism in the Roman Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010). Montes-Peral, L.A., Akataleptos Theos: Der unfassbare Gott (ARLGHJ 16, Leiden: Brill, 1987). Niehoff, M.R., “Philo and Plutarch as Biographers: Parallel Responses to Roman Stoicism,” GRBS 52 (2012) 361–392. Niehoff, M.R., “Philo and Plutarch on Homer,” in M.R. Niehoff (ed.), Homer and the Bible in the Eyes of Ancient Interpreters (Jerusalem Studies in Religion and Culture 16, Leiden: Brill, 2012) 128–153. Noack, C., Gottesbewusstein: Exegetische Studien zur Soteriologie und Mystik bei Philon von Alexandria (WUNT 2.116, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000). Pearce, S., The Land of the Body: Studies in Philo’s Representation of Egypt (WUNT 2.208, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007). Runia, D.T., “Worshipping the Visible Gods: Conflict and Accommodation in Hellenism, Hellenistic Judaism, and Early Christianity,” in A. Houtman, A. de Jong & M. Missetvan de Weg (eds.), Empsychoi Logoi: Religious Innovations in Antiquity. Studies in Honor of Pieter Willem van der Horst (Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity 73, Leiden: Brill, 2008) 47–61. Runia, D.T., Philo of Alexandria, On the Creation of the Cosmos: Introduction, Translation, and Commentary (Philo of Alexandria Commentary Series 1, Leiden: Brill, 2001). Runia, D.T., “Philo the Theologian,” in T.A. Hart (ed.), The Dictionary of Historical Theology (Grand Rapids, MI: Peeter’s, 2000) 424–426. Schwarz, D.R., “Philo’s Priestly Descent,” in F.E. Greenspahn, E. Hilgert & B.L. Mack

124

sterling

(eds.), Nourished with Peace: Studies in Hellenistic Judaism in Memory of Samuel Sandmel (Scholars Press Homage Series 9, Chico, CA: Scholar’s Press, 1984) 155–171. Sterling, G.E., “The Theft of Philosophy: Philo of Alexandria and Numenius of Apamea,” SPhiloA 27 (2015) 71–85. Sterling, G.E., “The First Theologian: The Originality of Philo of Alexandria,” in M.W. Hamilton, T.H. Olbricht & J. Peterson (eds.), Renewing Tradition: Studies in Texts with Contexts in Honor of James W. Thompson, (Princeton Theological Monograph Series 65, Eugene, OR: Wipf/Stock, 2007) 145–162. Sterling, G.E., “Platonizing Moses: Philo and Middle Platonism,” SPhiloA 5 (1993) 96–111. Sterling, G.E., “Creatio temporalis, aeterna, vel continua? An Analysis of the Thought of Philo of Alexandria,” SPhiloA 4 (1992) 15–41. Westerink, L.G. (ed.), In Platonis Gorgiam commentaria (Leipzig: Vieweg/Teubner, 1970).

chapter 6

Philautia, Self-Knowledge, and Oikeiôsis in Philo of Alexandria and Plutarch Gretchen Reydams-Schils

The starting point for this paper is the simple linguistic given that philautia occurs most often in Philo of Alexandria and Plutarch (also in Galen) before the term finds its way into the Christian tradition, starting with Clement of Alexandria. This fact in itself would not be that significant were it not for the structural parallels in Philo’s and Plutarch’s treatments of self-love, which center around the relationships among human beings and between human beings and the divine. There can be little doubt that philautia, self-love, is at the core of human vices and wrongheadedness in the writings of Philo of Alexandria.1 Two figures in the scriptural narratives are the primary impersonations of this abomination, Cain and Onan. Cain as philautos stands for the human who sees himself as the ground of his being and as the sole agent of his accomplishments, in contrast to Abel, who refers everything he is and does to God, as the philotheos par excellence. The other main impersonation of self-love is Onan, whose focus on self, like Cain’s, is the source of all vices and leads to the death of the soul. Self-love acquires an ultimate ontological significance in the claim that the philautos ends up being mired in sensible reality, and never realizes the primacy of the intelligible realm and God. Just as Cain can be contrasted with Abel, there is a third instantiation of self-love, namely Pharaoh and Egypt (the land of voices from which the Hebrews need to flee), which can be contrasted with Moses. Like Philo, Plutarch is highly critical of self-love. Plutarch’s reservations about philautia occur mostly in his ethical texts,2 traditionally seen as “popu-

1 F. Deutsch, “La philautie chez Philon d’ Alexandrie,” in C. Lévy (ed.), Philon d’Alexandrie et le language de la philosophie (Turnhout: Brepols, 1998) 87–97. The main texts are Sacr., Post., Deus, Det., and Leg. 2 The main texts are De coh. ira, De gar., De frat. am., De tranq. an., De se ipsum laud., and De ad. et am., But see also Quaest. Plat. 1, as discussed in J. Opsomer, “Eine platonische Abhandlung über die freimütige Rede: Plutarchs De adulatore et amico,” in E. Düsing et al. (eds.), Geist

© Gretchen Reydams-Schils, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004505070_008

126

reydams-schils

lar moralizing”—a designation that needs to be taken with a considerable grain of salt because it tends to elide the deeper philosophical content that shapes these works too. This content emerges more clearly if we assess Plutarch’s views against the background of his other works. Philo’s and Plutarch’s negative stance on philautia, however, could create considerable tensions with two strands of thinking on the self that emerged from the philosophical tradition. The one strand clearly derives from the Platonic-Socratic emphasis on self-examination, the famous Delphic injunction “Know Thyself” and the care of self (epimeleia heautou, primarily in the Apology and the Alcibiades i) that is meant to guide the soul’s conversion to philosophy and truth. The other strand combines Aristotelian elements3 with the Stoic notion of appropriation (oikeiôsis) to address the issue of sociability, or the relation between self and others.4 Both strands of thought lead to the divine, on the Platonic side as the ground of being, truth, and the good, and on the Stoic side, as the anchor of rationality, justice, and human sociability. And Philo’s and Plutarch’s God, in a striking combination of Platonic and Stoic features, fulfills both of these functions.5 This stance considerably complicates their attitude towards philautia, and permits us to gain a much more finely grained understanding of what they rejected in this attitude towards oneself and what they thought worth saving in a human being’s indispensable relationship to itself.

1

Philautia and Platonic Self-Knowledge and Care of Self

The locus classicus for Plato’s concern about self-love is this passage from Book Five of the Laws: Πάντων δὲ μέγιστον κακῶν ἀνθρώποις τοῖς πολλοῖς ἔμφυτον ἐν ταῖς ψυχαῖς ἐστιν, οὗ πᾶς αὑτῷ συγγνώμην ἔχων. ἀποφυγὴν οὐδεμίαν μηχανᾶται· τοῦτο δ’ ἔστιν ὃ λέγουσιν ὡς φίλος αὑτῷ πᾶς ἄνθρωπος φύσει τέ ἐστιν καὶ ὀρθῶς ἔχει τὸ δεῖν εἶναι τοιοῦτον. τὸ δὲ ἀληθείᾳ γε πάντων ἁμαρτημάτων διὰ τὴν σφόδρα ἑαυ-

und Sittlichkeit: Ethik-Modelle von Platon bis Levinas (Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, 2009) 91–119 (106–108). 3 As in NE 1168a28–1169b2, Magn. Mor. 1212a28–34 and 1212b10–24, Pol. 1263b1–5 (see below). 4 J. Annas, The Morality of Happiness (Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 1993). 5 G. Reydams-Schils, “Philautia, Self-knowledge, and oikeiôsis in Philo of Alexandria,” in P. Galand & E. Malaspina (eds.), Vérité et apparence: Mélanges en l’honneur de Carlos Lévy (Turnhout: Brepols, 2016) 333–342.

philautia, self-knowledge, and oikeiôsis

127

τοῦ φιλίαν αἴτιον ἑκάστῳ γίγνεται ἑκάστοτε. τυφλοῦται γὰρ περὶ τὸ φιλούμενον ὁ φιλῶν, ὥστε τὰ δίκαια καὶ τὰ ἀγαθὰ καὶ τὰ καλὰ κακῶς κρίνει, τὸ αὑτοῦ πρὸ τοῦ ἀληθοῦς ἀεὶ τιμᾶν δεῖν ἡγούμενος· οὔτε γὰρ ἑαυτὸν οὔτε τὰ ἑαυτοῦ χρὴ τόν γε μέγαν ἄνδρα ἐσόμενον στέργειν, ἀλλὰ τὰ δίκαια, ἐάντε παρ’ αὑτῷ ἐάντε παρ’ ἄλλῳ μᾶλλον πραττόμενα τυγχάνῃ. ἐκ ταὐτοῦ δὲ ἁμαρτήματος τούτου καὶ τὸ τὴν ἀμαθίαν τὴν παρ’ αὑτῷ δοκεῖν σοφίαν εἶναι γέγονε πᾶσιν· ὅθεν οὐκ εἰδότες ὡς ἔπος εἰπεῖν οὐδέν, οἰόμεθα τὰ πάντα εἰδέναι, οὐκ ἐπιτρέποντες δὲ ἄλλοις ἃ μὴ ἐπιστάμεθα πράττειν, ἀναγκαζόμεθα ἁμαρτάνειν αὐτοὶ πράττοντες. διὸ πάντα ἄνθρωπον χρὴ φεύγειν τὸ σφόδρα φιλεῖν αὑτόν, τὸν δ’ ἑαυτοῦ βελτίω διώκειν ἀεί, μηδεμίαν αἰσχύνην ἐπὶ τῷ τοιούτῳ πρόσθεν ποιούμενον. There is an evil, great above all others, which most humans have, implanted in their souls, and which each one of them excuses in himself and makes no effort to avoid. It is the evil indicated in the saying that every human being is by nature a lover of self (φίλος αὑτῷ), and that it is right that he should be such. But the truth is that the cause of all failings in every case lies in the person’s excessive love of self (διὰ τὴν σφόδρα ἑαυτοῦ φιλίαν). For the lover is so blind in his view of the object loved that he is a bad judge of things just and good and noble, with the result that the lover of self deems himself bound always to value what is his own more than what is true; for the man who is to attain the title of “Great” must be devoted neither to himself nor to his own belongings, but to things just, whether they happen to be actions of his own or rather those of another. And it is from this same failing that every human being has derived the further notion that his own folly is wisdom; whence it comes about that though we know practically nothing, we fancy that we know everything; and since we will not entrust to others the doing of things we do not understand, we necessarily go wrong in doing them ourselves. Wherefore every human being must shun excessive self-love (τὸ σφόδρα φιλεῖν αὑτόν), and ever follow after him who is better than himself, allowing no shame to prevent him from doing so (Laws 731d6–732b4, Tr. Bury, slightly modified). For my purpose here, two points merit our attention. First, it seems that Plato merely criticizes excessive self-love in this context (σφόδρα, beginning and end of passage), and this interpretation would leave room for some kind of positive, even if limited, role for self-love, as, one might argue, might also emerge from the claim that such a sentiment is natural to human beings (φίλος αὑτῷ πᾶς ἄνθρωπος φύσει τέ ἐστιν). But another interpretation, which I am inclined to follow, would point out that the contrast with what “they say” (or the “saying” in the translation above) does not turn on the distinction between self-love and

128

reydams-schils

an excessive form of it, but rather on the opposition between the claim that “it is right” that human beings be so disposed (ὀρθῶς ἔχει) and Plato’s statement that this disposition, on the contrary, is the source of all failings (τὸ δὲ ἀληθείᾳ γε πάντων ἁμαρτημάτων). Moreover, the phrase “it is the evil indicated,” as Bury translated it (much more succinct in Greek: τοῦτο δ’ ἔστιν), does in all likelihood pick up on the “greatest of all evils” from the opening of the passage (πάντων δὲ μέγιστον κακῶν), and thus would cast a pall also on the saying that “by nature every human being is a lover of self.” This interpretation would explain why in the central part of the passage, Plato drops the “excessive” designation, and addresses simply the dangers of self-love (ἑαυτὸν … στέργειν). His point would then be, rather, that self-love is such that it is intrinsically prone to excess, and thus leads human beings fundamentally astray.6 Second, as is the case with Philo and Plutarch, self-love has for Plato both epistemological and ethical negative consequences: it blinds one to the truth and, as a result, turns one away from “the just and good and noble” (τὰ δίκαια καὶ τὰ ἀγαθὰ καὶ τὰ καλὰ). In the immediate context of this passage, starting from the beginning of Book Five of the Laws (726a), Plato consistently renders the proper disposition for human beings towards themselves, that is, to their soul, body, and possessions, not in terms pertaining to affection but to honor (τιμᾶν/τιμή): one “honors” oneself through devoting oneself to truth and virtuous behavior. In other words, Plato does not replace a problematic kind of selflove with a better variant, but displaces the term for affection, “love”, by “honor.” But the intertextual plot thickens even more if we bring in another passage from Plato’s Laws echoed in this claim by Philo: … μέτρον εἶναι πάντων χρημάτων τὸν ἀνθρώπινον νοῦν· ᾗ καὶ τῶν παλαιῶν τινα σοφιστῶν ὄνομα Πρωταγόραν φασὶ χρήσασθαι, τῆς Κάιν ἀπονοίας ἔκγονον. … that the human mind is the measure of all things, an opinion held, they tell us, by an ancient sophist named Protagoras, a descendant of Cain’s madness (De posteritate Caini 35, Tr. Colson & Whitaker, slightly modified). 6 Note that by contrast Aristotle in Pol. 2.5, 1263ab (in a passage that bears many similarities with this one and in the context of a sustained criticism of Plato’s Republic) makes unambiguously clear the distinction between an acceptable, natural affective disposition toward oneself (τὴν πρὸς αὑτὸν αὐτὸς ἔχει φιλίαν ἕκαστος … φυσικόν/φιλεῖν ἑαυτόν), on the one hand, and being philautos (τὸ δὲ φίλαυτον εἶναι) as an excessive (τὸ μᾶλλον ἢ δεῖ φιλεῖν) and therefore detrimental attitude, on the other. I am grateful to Verity Harte, and, from the Workshop on Ancient Philosophy at Notre Dame, Joe Karbowski, Sean Kelsey, David O’Connor, and Allison Murphy for a very fruitful discussion of the complexities in the passage from Plato’s Laws.

philautia, self-knowledge, and oikeiôsis

129

As Philo here indicates, there is a fundamental connection between the philautia of Cain, in its opposition to Abel as philotheos, and the position attributed to Protagoras that humans are the measure of all things. Towards the end of an earlier passage from Plato’s Laws (715e–716d, which aligns itself with the Theaetetus), it turns out, we find a strain of thought that is quite similar to Philo’s; namely, that God is the measure of all things, not some human being (an allusion to Protagoras), and that the moderate man would be dear (or a friend, philos) to god because he is like him (homoios), whereas the immoderate one would be unlike god, separate from him, and unjust. One can thus cull from Plato, too, an opposition between being philos to oneself and philos to god (even if for Plato the status of being dear to god hinges on humans being like god).7 The later passage from the Laws on loving oneself, which we quoted above, follows naturally from this one. According to the opening of Book Five, we turn from honoring the gods to the question of the proper disposition towards oneself (in soul, body, and possessions), also described in terms of honor. The Platonic tradition, we can thus posit, needs to distinguish between the problematic aspects of self-love and a proper from of self-knowledge and care for (or honoring of) oneself that turns the soul towards truth and its concomitant moral disposition. For all his vehement objections to philautia, Philo too leaves room for a positive role of self-knowledge, but primarily in the sense of a human being’s awareness of his or her limitations.8 And so, in the final analysis, the ultimate self-knowledge consists for Philo, paradoxically, in realizing one’s own nothingness and one’s radical dependence on God: πότε οὖν οὐκ ἐπιλήσῃ θεοῦ; ὅταν μὴ ἐπιλάθῃ σεαυτοῦ· μεμνημένος γὰρ τῆς ἰδίου περὶ πάντα οὐδενείας μεμνήσῃ καὶ τῆς τοῦ θεοῦ περὶ πάντα ὑπερβολῆς. When will you not forget God? Only when you do not forget yourself. For if you remember your own nothingness in all things, you will also remember the transcendence of God in all things (De sacrificiis Abelis et Caini 55–56, Tr. Colson & Whitaker, slightly modified).9

7 For more on this point, see below. See also M.R. Niehoff, Philo of Alexandria: An Intellectual Biography (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2018) 193–200. 8 As, for instance, in Somn. 1.53–60: with an opposition between (a flawed) natural philosophy, including astronomy, and knowledge of self, see also Migr. 137, 184–196; Fug. 46; Spec. 1.44; 263. 9 See also Mut. 54.

130

reydams-schils

This passage belongs in the broader context (De sacrificiis Abelis et Caini 52– 58) of a description of Cain as a lover of self who delays his offering to God (Gen 4:3). In this context Philo distinguishes between three kinds of failings in gratitude, namely (1) those who forget the blessings they have received (and the passage quoted above about forgetfulness is addressed to this group); (2) those who in their pride think that these gifts have befallen them because of their own actions; and, finally, (3) those who think that they have merited these gifts from God. Plutarch’s use of a Platonic framework in his moral writings is much more straightforward, of course, than Philo’s.10 His On Flattery starts with a reference to the central passage about self-love from the Laws, quoted above (731d6– 732b4).11 In this work Plutarch examines how one can distinguish a flatterer from a true friend, someone who will use frank speech (παρρησία) when needed for the sake of the moral improvement of his friend. Self-love enters the picture because, as a form of self-flattery (48F–49A; 65F), it makes one vulnerable to flattery from others (65F), and, by implication, resistant to legitimate criticism. As a result, self-love undermines true knowledge of oneself: εἰ δὲ δὴ θεῖον ἡ ἀλήθεια καὶ “πάντων μὲν ἀγαθῶν θεοῖς πάντων δ’ ἀνθρώποις” ἀρχὴ κατὰ Πλάτωνα, κινδυνεύει θεοῖς ἐχθρὸς ὁ κόλαξ εἶναι, τῷ δὲ Πυθίῳ διαφερόντως. ἀντιτάττεται γὰρ ἀεὶ πρὸς τὸ “γνῶθι σαυτόν,” ἀπάτην ἑκάστῳ πρὸς ἑαυτὸν ἐμποιῶν καὶ ἄγνοιαν ἑαυτοῦ καὶ τῶν περὶ αὑτὸν ἀγαθῶν καὶ κακῶν, τὰ μὲν ἐλλιπῆ καὶ ἀτελῆ τὰ δ’ ὅλως ἀνεπανόρθωτα ποιῶν. Now if truth is a thing divine, and, as Plato puts it, the origin “of all good for gods and all good for men,” then the flatterer is in all likelihood an enemy to the gods and particularly to the Pythian god. For the flatterer always takes a position over against the maxim “Know thyself,” by creating in every man deception towards himself and ignorance both of himself and of the good and evil that concerns himself; the good he renders defective and incomplete, and the evil wholly impossible to amend (De adulatore et amico 49AB, Tr. Babbitt). In this context too, we can clearly discern that self-love, in making us vulnerable to flattery, not only damages our moral character but also bars our access to truth as the origin of the good. We mistake what is dear to us and what is our 10 11

On the centrality of self-love in these writings, see H.G. Ingenkamp, Plutarchs Schriften über die Heilung der Seele (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1971) 131–132. Opsomer, “Eine platonische Abhandlung,” 101–108.

philautia, self-knowledge, and oikeiôsis

131

own for the good itself. True self-knowledge does not merely protect us against the bad influence of flattery, however; in doing so, it also redirects our attention and efforts to the higher part of the soul: Εἷς δέ τις ἔοικε τρόπος εἶναι φυλακῆς τὸ γιγνώσκειν καὶ μνημονεύειν ἀεὶ ὅτι τῆς ψυχῆς τὸ μὲν ἀληθινὸν καὶ φιλόκαλον καὶ λογικὸν ἐχούσης, τὸ δ’ ἄλογον καὶ φιλοψευδὲς καὶ παθητικόν. One mode of protection, as it would seem, is to realize and remember always that our soul has its two sides: on the one side are truthfulness, love for what is honorable, and power to reason, and on the other side irrationality, love of falsehood, and the passionate element (De adulatore et amico 61D, Tr. Babbitt, slightly modified). A true friend, Plutarch goes on to state, will work to support the rational aspect of the soul, whereas the flatterer will encourage irrationality, falsehood, and the passions. Maintaining the proper order of the soul, with rationality and the love of truth in control, allows for the right kind of friendship to oneself as a form of harmony and peace. Plutarch states elsewhere: … ὅτι καὶ τοῦ ἐνδιαθέτου λόγου καὶ τοῦ προφορικοῦ φιλία τέλος ἐστί, τοῦ μὲν πρὸς ἑαυτὸν τοῦ δὲ πρὸς ἕτερον. ὁ μὲν γὰρ εἰς ἀρετὴν διὰ φιλοσοφίας τελευτῶν σύμφωνον ἑαυτῷ καὶ ἄμεμπτον ὑφ’ ἑαυτοῦ καὶ μεστὸν εἰρήνης καὶ φιλοφροσύνης τῆς πρὸς ἑαυτὸν ἀεὶ παρέχεται τὸν ἄνθρωπον. οὐ πάθος λόγῳ δυσπειθές, οὐχ ὁρμῆς μάχη πρὸς ὁρμήν, οὐ λογισμοῦ πρὸς λογισμὸν ἀντίβασις, οὐχ ὥσπερ ἐν μεθορίῳ τοῦ ἐπιθυμοῦντος καὶ τοῦ μετανοοῦντος τὸ τραχὺ καὶ ταραχῶδες καὶ τὸ ἡδόμενον, ἀλλ’ εὐμενῆ πάντα καὶ φίλα καὶ ποιοῦντα πλείστων τυγχάνειν ἀγαθῶν καὶ ἑαυτῷ χαίρειν ἕκαστον. … the aim and end of both internal and uttered speech is friendship, towards oneself and towards one’s neighbor, respectively; for the former, ending through philosophy in virtue, makes a man harmonious with himself, free from blame towards himself, and full of peace and friendliness towards himself. … There is no passion disobedient to reason, no strife of impulse with impulse, no opposition of argument to argument, there is no rough tumult and pleasure on the border-line, as it were, between desire and repentance, but everything is gentle and friendly and makes each man gain the greatest number of benefits and be pleased with himself (Maxime cum principibus 777CD, Tr. Fowler, slightly modified).

132

reydams-schils

This passage, which opens with the Stoic distinction between internal and external speech, presents a psychology of inner harmony that could be compatible with both the Platonic and the Stoic model of the human soul. The claim about friendship to oneself, to be sure, occurs in a very specific context, in the short exposition on a philosopher’s engagement with powerful people and rulers. The works starts with the theme of friendship and a contrast between philanthrôpia and love of reputation (φιλοδόξων, 776B). Nevertheless, the specific point underscores the message of On Flattery, with its emphasis on the properly ordered soul. Thus on one level, the kind of self-knowledge that counters the pitfalls of self-love reorients a human being, according to Plutarch, towards his or her reasoning faculty and its ability to reach for divine truth. Because of its confidence in human reason, such a point of view would still be too ‘self-centered’ from Philo’s perspective. Yet in certain contexts Plutarch, too, emphasizes that proper self-knowledge entails becoming aware of the gulf that separates the human from the divine and also of one’s limitations. In On The E at Delphi, for instance, the character Ammonius, Plutarch’s teacher, creates an antithesis between the injunction “Know thyself” addressed to human beings by Apollo and the required response from humans to the god “Thou art.” The response indicates that humans have no part in being, but always find themselves between coming to be and passing away and cannot even fully grasp the being of anything with their reasoning powers (De E apud Delphos 392AB; 394C).12 Thus Philo and Plutarch, each in his own way, move from self-love to a form of self-knowledge that reorients human beings towards the divine as the anchor of truth and the good. The second transposition of self-love with which I am concerned here engages with the Stoic notion of oikeiôsis.

12

R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Der eine Gott bei Philon von Alexandrien und Plutarch,” in id. (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch: Götterbilder—Gottesbilder—Weltbilder (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2005) 141–168 (142–143); M. Bonazzi, À la recherche des idées: Platonisme et philosophie hellénistique d’Antiochus à Plotin (Paris: Vrin, 2015) 97–107, with fuller bibliography there; see also De Is. et Os. 351C, De sera num. 549EF, De def. or. 430F–431A.

philautia, self-knowledge, and oikeiôsis

2

133

Philautia and Stoic Appropriation and Sociability

Like the Platonists, the Stoics also endorsed the importance of the proper relation to oneself. This stance is especially apparent in the Stoic theory of “appropriation” (oikeiôsis).13 According to the Stoics all animals and human beings are born with an awareness of and favorable disposition towards themselves that direct them towards self-preservation. It is not the case, as is often assumed, that with the advent of reason human beings need to make a transition from self-directed appropriation to concern for others. Rather, a self-directed aspect of oikeiôsis always goes together with a social aspect, for animals as well as human beings, and for the latter starting in the pre-rational phase.14 Yet, it is not hard to see how critics of the Stoics, ancient and contemporary alike, could raise the concern that the affective disposition toward oneself (see for instance Hierocles, Elements of Ethics 9.1–10),15 which oikeiôsis presupposes, could get in the way of our relations with and obligations to others. In the fragments of Hierocles’ Elements of Ethics (7.20–35), there is a potential positive use of philautia in the example that this disposition allows us to bear with ourselves when we have a malodorous wound (an allusion to the story of Philoctetes), which presumably would be offensive to others. But apart from this case, it is the negative connotation of philautia that is attested for the later Stoics.16 This negative connotation is also present in the following defense by Epictetus against the charge of egoism, which gives us a valuable glimpse of the debate:17 Τοῦτο οὐκ ἔστιν φίλαυτον· γέγονε γὰρ οὕτως τὸ ζῷον· αὑτοῦ ἕνεκα πάντα ποιεῖ. καὶ γὰρ ὁ ἥλιος αὑτοῦ ἕνεκα πάντα ποιεῖ καὶ τὸ λοιπὸν αὐτὸς ὁ Ζεύς. ἀλλ’ ὅταν θέλῃ εἶναι Ὑέτιος καὶ Ἐπικάρπιος καὶ πατὴρ ἀνδρῶν τε θεῶν τε, ὁρᾷς ὅτι τούτων τῶν ἔργων καὶ τῶν προσηγοριῶν οὐ δύναται τυχεῖν, ἂν μὴ εἰς τὸ κοινὸν ὠφέλι-

13

14 15 16 17

See R. Salles, “Οἰκείωσις in Epictetus,” in A.G. Vigo (ed.), Oikeiosis and the Natural Basis of Morality From Classical Stoicism to Modern Philosophy (Hildesheim: Olms, 2012) 95–117, which, however, focuses on the notion of φιλοστοργία in Diss. 1.11 and does not discuss this passage. For Diss. 1.11, see also G. Reydams-Schils, “Human bonding and oikeiôsis in Roman Stoicism,” OSAPh 22.2 (2002) 221–251 (246). Reydams-Schils, “Human bonding,” passim. I. Ramelli, “The Stoic doctrine of oikeiosis and its transformation in Christian Platonism,” Apeiron 47.1 (2014) 116–140. For Hierocles on the relationship with a brother, see Stob. 4.660.15–664.18 Wachsmuth/ Hense; see also Musonius Rufus 16 Lutz/Hense; Marcus Aurelius Med. 2.5. See also S. Magrin, “Nature and utopia in Epictetus’ theory of oikeiôsis,” Phronesis 63.3 (2018) 293–350.

134

reydams-schils

μος ᾖ. καθόλου τε τοιαύτην ⟨τὴν⟩ φύσιν τοῦ λογικοῦ ζῴου κατεσκεύασεν, ἵνα μηδενὸς τῶν ἰδίων ἀγαθῶν δύνηται τυγχάνειν, ⟨ἂν⟩ μή τι εἰς τὸ κοινὸν ὠφέλιμον προσφέρηται. οὕτως οὐκέτι ἀκοινώνητον γίνεται τὸ πάντα αὑτοῦ ἕνεκα ποιεῖν. ἐπεὶ τί ἐκδέχῃ; ἵνα τις ἀποστῇ αὑτοῦ καὶ τοῦ ἰδίου συμφέροντος; καὶ πῶς ἔτι μία καὶ ἡ αὐτὴ ἀρχὴ πᾶσιν ἔσται ἡ πρὸς αὑτὰ οἰκείωσις; This is not mere self-love (φίλαυτον), for the animal is constituted so as to do all things for itself (αὑτοῦ ἕνεκα πάντα ποιεῖ). For even the sun does all things for itself; even Zeus himself. But when he chooses to be the Giver of rain and the Giver of fruits, and the Father of gods and men, you see that he cannot obtain these functions and these names, if he is not useful to man; and, universally, he has made the nature of the rational animal (τοῦ λογικοῦ ζῴου) such that it cannot obtain any one of its own proper interests if it does not contribute something to the common interest (τι εἰς τὸ κοινὸν ὠφέλιμον). In this manner and sense it is not unsociable (ἀκοινώνητον) for a man to do everything for the sake of himself. For what do you expect? that a man should neglect himself and his own interest? And how in that case can there be one and the same principle in all, appropriation to themselves (ἡ πρὸς αὑτὰ οἰκείωσις)? (Dissertationes 1.19.11–15, Tr. Higginson, modified).18 In the lines preceding this passage, Epictetus has just staged an exchange between a tyrant and someone who refuses to be impressed and intimidated by such a display of power, in order to prove the point that it is not these displays that affect us but our own judgments. The interlocutor of the tyrant claims that the latter has no power over him, and that he has a kind of freedom bestowed by Zeus himself. In that sense the interlocutor pays attention only to himself, and the tyrant receives just about as much attention as the interlocutor would devote to a chamber pot. This focus on oneself, with apparent complete disregard for others, leads Epictetus to mount a defense against a possible objection that such an attitude would amount to philautia. The passage turns on a fundamental distinction, in Epictetus’ eyes, between mere philautia and the Stoic notion of “appropriation” (oikeiôsis). The selfinterest at work in these two types of disposition towards oneself is fundamentally different. Like Philo, Epictetus defines mere self-love as “doing everything for the sake of oneself” (for Philo, Quod Deus sit immutabilis 16–19, Quaestiones

18

On this passage see also R.F. Dobbin, Epictetus: Discourses, Book i. Translation, Introduction, Commentary (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998) 176–181.

philautia, self-knowledge, and oikeiôsis

135

in Genesin unassigned F11 Marcus). It is true that in some sense animals and even Zeus do everything for the sake of themselves. But, the passage goes on to state, this feature is not all there is to Zeus (as the Stoic divine principle): he also has an all-important providential role. Otherwise, he would not merit the names that refer to this role of bestowing benefits, such as “Giver of rain,” “Giver of fruits,” and “Father of gods and men.” Similarly, in rational animals, that is, human beings (who share reason with the divine principle, the passage implies), self-interest properly construed always goes together with sociability. To be rational, for the Stoics, is to be social and to be oriented towards the common good (τὸ κοινόν). So, we are meant to understand, even if the tyrant’s interlocutor does not care about status markers that traditionally are meant to command our respect or to instill fear (such as absolute power), this attitude does not imply an indifference to the well-being of other human beings. For my purpose here, we need to retain the point, which Epictetus makes explicit, that the ground of sociability is in Zeus, and so oikeiôsis, too, leads us to the divine. Philo also draws on the connection between the divine and sociability, especially in the case of the divine’s beneficial function for which he reserves the name theos.19 In his rendering of Onan, Philo’s rejection of philautia focuses especially on the problems this disposition creates for our relationships with others and God. Onan’s self-love manifests itself as a self-pleasure that always pursues some advantage to itself, and thus undermines—and here Philo goes through a list of social relationships—love of parents, wife, children, and servants; the management of one’s household and one’s political responsibility, all the way up to one’s general fellowship with other living beings (koinônia) and reverence for God (eusebeia). Philo establishes an explicit connection here between sociability and piety towards God (De posteritate Caini 180). In spite of this similarity with the Stoic approach, however, Philo’s attitude towards the notion of ‘appropriation’ is quite complex in its ambivalence, as Carlos Lévy has shown in a seminal article (1998). It appears that Philo either rejects the Stoic sense of oikeiôsis—as when he claims that alienation rather than appropriation defines the human condition of the presence of reason in the body (De confusione linguarum 82; see also De gigantibus 29) and that infants start out in life having an affinity with falsehood (De specialibus legibus 4.68)—or he transposes ‘appropriation’ onto a radically different level, namely a human being’s relationship with God. Here is a succinct example of that transposition, in a discussion of Leah (Gen 29:31): 19

As, for instance, in Virt. 168–169, Abr. 208. See G. Reydams-Schils, “‘Unsociable sociability:’ Philo on the active and the contemplative life,” in F. Calabi et al. (eds.), Pouvoir et puissances chez Philon d’ Alexandrie (Turnhout: Brepols, 2015) 305–318.

136

reydams-schils

τῇ δὲ ἡ πρὸς τὸ γενητὸν ἀλλοτρίωσις πρὸς θεὸν οἰκείωσιν εἰργάσατο, … The estrangement (ἀλλοτρίωσις) from the realm of becoming (τὸ γενητὸν) brings about appropriation (οἰκείωσιν) to God (De posteritate Caini 135).20 Keeping the more literal sense of genêton, which Philo in the same passage goes on to parse as “mortal things” (θνητά), allows us to highlight the Platonic resonance of this statement. The Stoics, for their part, posit a fundamental continuity between sense-perception and reasoning, and between the starting point of appropriation in the pre-rational phase of human beings’ lives and its manifestation in adults with the capacity for reasoning. (The fact that reason is meant to alter radically one’s value system does not do away with this continuity.) Contrary to the Stoics, and more in agreement with the Platonists, Philo, however, draws a sharp line of demarcation here between becoming (or the realm of sense-perception and mortal things) and the divine. Thus for Philo, in this passage, a turn towards transcendence implies a turn away, or an alienation from, lower reality. ‘Appropriation’ to God points to an intimate rapport between human beings and the divine. But the expression also turns a human being away from him- or herself and shifts the emphasis from self to God, in a move that is analogous to the one we have already observed above in the case of self-knowledge and care of the self. Philo paradoxically transforms selfawareness, to use a broader term, whether along more Platonic or more Stoic lines, into a radical dependence on God. Even if the process of turning to the divine would obviously have to start at the level of human selves, who, after all, have to be the ones undergoing the turn, it seems to end in an abandonment of self. If we turn our attention now again to Plutarch, finding ‘appropriation’ in his writings requires a bit of detective work, because not all the aspects of the Stoic notion are present in his extant corpus. But it is precisely the missing link that makes this particular polemic with the Stoics so interesting. The central passage comes from the works explicitly dedicated to Plutarch’s critique of the Stoics:

20

See also Op. 145–146; Plant. 54 and Cher. 11–20, as discussed in C. Lévy, “Éthique de l’ immanence, éthique de la transcendance: le problème de l’ oikeiôsis chez Philon,” in Lévy (ed.), Philon d’Alexandrie, 153–164. On this notion in the Christian tradition, see Ramelli, “The Stoic Doctrine,” passim.

philautia, self-knowledge, and oikeiôsis

137

καὶ μὴν οὐδ’ οἰκεῖον οὐδ’ ἁρμόττον οὐδὲν εἶναι τῷ φαύλῳ φησὶν ἐν τούτοις· ‘κατὰ ταὐτὰ δὲ τῷ μὲν ἀστείῳ ἀλλότριον οὐδὲν τῷ δὲ φαύλῳ οὐδὲν οἰκεῖόν ἐστιν, ἐπειδὴ τὸ μὲν ἀγαθὸν τὸ δὲ κακόν ἐστιν αὐτῶν’. πῶς οὖν ἀποκναίει πάλιν ἐν παντὶ βιβλίῳ φυσικῷ ⟨τὰ⟩ ἴδια καὶ ἠθικῷ γράφων ὡς ‘οἰκειούμεθα πρὸς αὑτοὺς εὐθὺς γενόμενοι καὶ τὰ μέρη καὶ τὰ ἔκγονα τὰ ἑαυτῶν’; ἐν δὲ τῷ πρώτῳ περὶ Δικαιοσύνης καὶ τὰ θηρία φησὶ συμμέτρως τῇ χρείᾳ τῶν ἐκγόνων ᾠκειῶσθαι πρὸς αὐτά, πλὴν τῶν ἰχθύων· αὐτὰ γὰρ τὰ κυήματα τρέφεται δι’ αὑτῶν’. ἀλλ’ οὔτ’ αἴσθησίς ἐστιν οἷς μηδὲν αἰσθητὸν οὔτ’ οἰκείωσις οἷς μηδὲν οἰκεῖον· ἡ γὰρ οἰκείωσις αἴσθησις ἔοικε τοῦ οἰκείου καὶ ἀντίληψις εἶναι. Moreover that nothing is either congenial (οἰκεῖον) or appropriate to the base man he [Chrysippus] states in these words: “As nothing is repugnant to the decent man, in the same way nothing is congenial to the base, since the latter property is good and the former bad.” Why then again in every book of physics, yes and of morals too, does he keep writing ad nauseam that from the moment of birth we have a natural congeniality to ourselves, to our members, and to our own off-spring? In the first book concerning Justice he says that even the beasts have been endowed with congeniality to their offspring in proportion to its need, except in the case of fishes, for their spawn is nourished of itself. Yet there is neither sensation in subjects for which no object is sensible nor congeniality in those to which nothing is congenial, for congeniality seems to be a sensation or perception of what is congenial (De Stoicorum repugnantiis 1038BC, Tr. Cherniss). This passage is framed by the stark Stoic dichotomy between the base human being and the good one, with which I am not concerned in the context of this paper. There are several noteworthy features in Plutarch’s treatment of the Stoic notion of oikeiôsis. First, he addresses it under the much more general heading of the oikeion, which plays a role in the Platonic and Peripatetic traditions as well. Second, in his own phrasing, he has externalized the oikeiôsis relationship, such that it refers to an affinity between human beings and things around them. Similarly, in On Common Conceptions, it is nature that endows us with repugnance at some things, and congeniality to others (1060C). The quote from Chrysippus that “from the moment of birth we have a natural congeniality to ourselves, to our members, and to our own off-spring,” however, makes clear that the relationship of living beings to themselves is the starting point of oikeiôsis.21 Third, with this quote from Chrysippus, Plutarch limits his presentation

21

One can contrast Plutarch’s wording especially with the discussion of Chrysippus’ view as

138

reydams-schils

to the kind of lower-level oikeiôsis which human beings, in their pre-rational phase “from the moment of birth,” share with animals. From this point of view, love of off-spring is the foundation of social life and justice (see also De sollertia animalium 962AB). Finally, it is quite possible that with the connection between sensation and oikeiôsis at the end of the passage, Plutarch may have in mind the Platonic, very restricted epistemological value of sensation, rather than the much more powerful Stoic one. (For all these reasons, I interpret Plutarch’s rendering as a polemical misrepresentation of Chrysippus’ position and not as evidence that Chrysippus’ position may have differed from that of other Stoics.) We know from other sources, however, that love of off-spring is not the only foundation Stoics posit for sociability in human beings. If we juxtapose some of Plutarch’s claims about the Stoics, we can discern more clearly the curious gap in his account: (i) The followers of Zeno posit oikeiôsis as the starting point of justice ( fr. 193 Sandbach = Porph., Abst. 3.18). (ii) Zeus and universal nature are the starting point of justice (De Stoicorum repugnantiis 1035C). The missing link would consist of the higher level oikeiôsis which human beings have to their reasoning ability, which has a natural affinity with the divine reason that structures all of the universe in the community of gods and men. Sociability in human beings rests primarily on this affinity of rationality, which distinguishes them from animals, as Cicero (De finibus 3.64–71), Seneca (Epistulae morales 121), and Epictetus in the passage quoted above (Dissertationes 1.19.11–15) attest. It is this affinity, even though Plutarch does not mention it, which according to the Stoics allows human beings to imitate a divine being that cares for them (φιλάνθρωπος), is solicitous (κηδεμονικός) and beneficent (ὠφελιμός; De communibus notitiis adversus Stoicos 1075E; see also De Stoicorum repugnantiis 1051F). Plutarch himself, in fact, approves of this view of a highly providential god and makes it his own (see for instance De sera numinis vindicta 550DE).22 But it appears that in Plutarch’s eyes, the Stoic notion of oikeiôsis cannot fulfill this function of aligning human rationality with divine reason. So, whereas Philo transposes oikeiôsis from the human self to God, Plutarch, I would argue,

22

presented in Diog. Laert. 7.85, which starts with the (πρῶτον) οἰκεῖον and the claim that “nature from the outset endears it [the animal] to itself ” (οἰκειούσης αὑτῷ τῆς φύσεως ἀπ’ ἀρχῆς). See also Hirsch-Luipold, “Der eine Gott,” 143–144.

philautia, self-knowledge, and oikeiôsis

139

appears to push it down merely to the level of a function human beings have in common with animals. In both cases the polemical strategy of not acknowledging any higher level oikeiôsis with human reason is similar. If the analysis of this paper holds, the structural parallels between Philo’s and Plutarch’s treatments of self-love, self-knowledge, and appropriation turn out to be quite significant. Both combine Platonic and Stoic elements, and use the latter in spite of an overt polemic against Stoicism.23 The critique of philautia allows them to present a (non-reified) human self that is fundamentally oriented towards the divine as the ground of rationality and truth, the good, and sociability. This background, I submit, could also open fresh avenues for our understanding of Paul’s listing of philautia among the vices (2 Tim 3:2) and throw new light on how he sees the relation between human beings and God.

Bibliography Annas, J., The Morality of Happiness (Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 1993). Bonazzi, M., À la recherche des idées: Platonisme et philosophie hellénistique d’Antiochus à Plotin (Paris: Vrin, 2015). Deutsch, F., “La philautie chez Philon d’Alexandrie,” in C. Lévy (ed.), Philon d’Alexandrie et le language de la philosophie (Turnhout: Brepols, 1998) 87–97. Dobbin, R.F., Epictetus: Discourses, Book i. Translation, Introduction, Commentary (CLAP, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998). Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Der eine Gott bei Philon von Alexandrien und Plutarch,” in id. (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch: Götterbilder—Gottesbilder—Weltbilder (RVV 54, Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2005) 141–168. Ingenkamp, H.G., Plutarchs Schriften über die Heilung der Seele (Hypomnemata 34, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1971). Lévy, C., “Éthique de l’immanence, éthique de la transcendance: le problème de l’oikeiôsis chez Philon,” in id. (ed.), Philon d’Alexandrie et le language de la philosophie, 153–164.

23

Earlier versions of this paper were presented at an international conference on Philo of Alexandria at Yale University on March 30, 2014 and in a panel on Philo of Alexandria and Plutarch, at the Society of Biblical Literature Annual Meeting in November of 2015. I am grateful to Hindy Najman and Rainer Hirsch-Luipold for providing these opportunities, to Geert Roskam for his comments on the Plutarch sections, and to Maren Niehoff for general advice. A shorter version, dealing only with the material from Philo, was published as Reydams-Schils, “Philautia.”

140

reydams-schils

Magrin, S., “Nature and utopia in Epictetus’ theory of oikeiôsis,” Phronesis 63.3 (2018) 293–350. Niehoff, M.R., Philo of Alexandria: An Intellectual Biography (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2018). Opsomer, J., “Eine platonische Abhandlung über die freimütige Rede: Plutarchs De adulatore et amico,” in E. Düsing, et al. (eds.), Geist und Sittlichkeit: Ethik-Modelle von Platon bis Levinas (Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, 2009) 91–119. Ramelli, I., “The Stoic doctrine of oikeiosis and its transformation in Christian Platonism,” Apeiron 47.1 (2014) 116–140. Reydams-Schils, G., “Philautia, self-knowledge, and oikeiôsis in Philo of Alexandria,” in P. Galand & E. Malaspina (eds.), Vérité et apparence: Mélanges en l’honneur de Carlos Lévy (Turnhout: Brepols, 2016) 333–342. Reydams-Schils, G., “‘Unsociable sociability:’ Philo on the active and the contemplative life,” in F. Calabi et al. (eds.), Pouvoir et puissances chez Philon d’Alexandrie (Turnhout: Brepols, 2015) 305–318. Reydams-Schils, G., “Human bonding and oikeiôsis in Roman Stoicism,” OSAPh 22.2 (2002) 221–251. Salles, R., “Οἰκείωσις in Epictetus,” in A.G. Vigo (ed.), Oikeiosis and the Natural Basis of Morality: From Classical Stoicism to Modern Philosophy (Hildesheim: Olms, 2012) 95– 117.

chapter 7

The Relation between Anthropology and Love Ethics in John against the Backdrop of Plutarchan and Philonic Ideas Athanasios Despotis

1

Introduction

The author of the Fourth Gospel and the First Catholic Epistle of John whom we conventionally call John begins his reflections both on human nature and creation already in the Gospel’s prologue by claiming that the Logos was the creator of all, the light and the life of men (vv. 3–4). Accordingly, John relates humans to the Logos of God against a cosmological background and provides the foundation for a theological understanding of cosmogony and anthropogony. John also delivers explicit or implicit reflections on human ethics,1 especially on the “new commandment” of love. These reflections are put either in the context of the Gospel’s narrative about Jesus’ life (where direct relation to Jesus plays the crucial role) or in a letter-essay2 (where ethics are linked to tradition about Jesus).3 From this point of view, one cannot expect that John delivers 1 On the definition of ancient virtue ethics, see C. Benemma, “Virtue Ethics and the Johannine Writings,” in S. Brown & C.W. Skinner (eds.), Johannine Ethics: The Moral World of the Gospel and Epistles of John (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2017) 261–281. 2 Though John’s Gospel delivers a genre mosaic (see editorial K.B. Larsen, The Gospel of John as Genre Mosaic, SANt 3 [Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015]), I consider it to be a historical biography. Furthermore, the genre of 1 John cannot be precisely defined, for it combines characteristics both of a Hellenistic letter and an essay. I analyze the entire Gospel in its final form without looking for the reconstruction of its previous strata. Similarly, in my view, 1 John belongs to the same school, and both writings can be dated at the end of the first century. However, 1 John reflects a historical situation that differs from that of the Gospel. The community of 1 John suffers from a schism due to false Christological claims and lack of love. We cannot be sure about the author(s) of the Gospel and the Epistle and if they are identical. Nevertheless, one detects the same group behind these texts (cf. the “we” in John 21:24; 1John 1:1–2) as it becomes clear from their fundamental linguistic and theological affinities. Minor differences on content or style need not indicate different authorship. This is also the case with the Philonian and Plutarchan corpora, where minor stylistic and conceptual variations occur in genuine works. Therefore, I draw both on the Fourth Gospel and 1John for my reconstructions. 3 J.G. Van der Watt, “Ethics and Community in the Gospel and Letters of John,” in J. Lieu & M. de

© Athanasios Despotis, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004505070_009

142

despotis

abstract theorizations as it is the case in moral-philosophical treatises, e.g., the Moralia of Plutarch. It is instead the task of the exegete to elucidate the theories underlying the Gospel and the Epistle as well as to reconstruct John’s social and cultural contexts. Thus, I intend to examine how love-ethics and anthropology are linked by John as well as by two other nearly contemporary authors, Philo4 and Plutarch. Though these three authors represent diverse traditions, they participate in a cultural discourse. I do not assume that there is a dependency of one of these writers upon another, in whatever direction, but rather that their works reflect similar developments in the history of ideas. I draw on Ronald Cox’s (2007) and Rainer Hirsch-Luipold’s studies (2017; 2020) on John that analyze the blend of religion and philosophy in the Early Imperial era and show that though John is not a Platonist, there is a common agenda that occurs in Johannine literature and popular modes of doing philosophy. It is not my intention to compare John to Philo or Plutarch, for the idea of comparison belongs to another methodological approach adopted by Geert Roskam in a recently published article.5 Roskam assumes that “Plutarch’s φιλανθρωπία cannot be equated with John’s ἀγάπη.” In my view, it is challenging to sharply distinguish between these concepts because there is no cultural purity in the ancient Mediterranean traditions. Consequently, I attempt to detect points of cultural hybridity in John and read his work from the point of view of an educated Roman citizen. I do not only reflect on the Greek lexeme ἀγαπ* but also on the broader concept of Boer (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Johannine Studies (Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 2018) 363–379. 4 I adopt the consensus that Philo can be understood as a sui generis Hellenistic-Jewish Platonist. 5 “Plutarch’s Theonomous Ethics and Christianity: A Few Thoughts on a Much-Discussed Problem,” in R. Hirsch-Luipold & L. Roig Lanzillotta (eds.), Plutarch’s Religious Landscapes (Leiden: Brill, 2020) 84–114. Roskam intends to highlight the differences between John and Plutarch. Indeed, one detects concepts in John that would be counter-intuitive for contemporary Greek philosophers. However, Roskam’s analysis misses crucial details that reflect the interaction between the diverse traditions in the ancient Meditteranean. E.g. Roskam avoids discussing the idea of a mediator between a wholly transcendent God and the immanent world that is much debated in both religious and philosophical circles of the early Empire. Similarly, though Roskam’s analysis draws on both the Fourth Gospel and 1John, it does not refer to 1 John 3:2 at all. Still, 1 John 3:2 is very illuminating because it shows that John participates in popular philosophical discussions (see my argument in the following pages). Accordingly, a sharp juxtaposition between John and Plutarch may be anachronistic from the perspective of the history of ideas. For NT authors who use common philosophical ideas, e.g., ἀλήθεια, λόγος, ἐλευθερία, draw on an already lengthy tradition of philosophical reinterpretation of Jewishbiblical concepts. The works of earlier Hellenistic-Jewish authors, e.g., Aristoboulos and Philo of Alexandria, witness the blend between Hellenistic-philosophical and Jewish traditions.

the relation between anthropology and love ethics

143

love or humanity that is described through different terms. While John prefers the lexeme ἀγαπ*, Philo and Plutarch favor the φιλε* lexeme. Φιλεῖν and ἀγαπᾶν are often (not always) synonymously used already by Aristotle, Rhetorica 1371A: “τὸ δὲ φιλεῖσθαι ἀγαπᾶσθαί ἐστιν”.

2

The Ancient Discussions on Anthropology and Ethics

Aristotle summarizes the prevailing views regarding anthropology and ethics up to his time in his Nicomachean Ethics. He reflects on the question of whether virtue and the very goal of ethics, i.e., εὐδαιμονία, can be acquired by training or whether it is bestowed by God. The Stagirite prioritizes the importance of study and practice, and, in his third book of the Nicomachean Ethics, he criticizes Socrates’ claim that nobody is voluntarily evil (1113B). Aristotle believed that human moral character depends on decisions and actions, especially from the faculty of προαίρεσις, i.e., a deliberate pursuit of what is in our power. He also believed that there is a natural affinity and affection among all men.6 Both ideas play a crucial role in Hellenistic and Roman philosophies. In John’s era, philosophy is concerned both with anthropology and physics as well as with ethics.7 Contemporary Stoics sought to uncover the evil condition of their pupils and shift them from irrational to rational evaluation of reality. Stoic ethics draw on the idea that humans share the material spermatic logos/pneumatic element. From this point of view, Stoics assumed that the human condition is predetermined. Middle Platonists represent a more compatibilist understanding of human progress on the path to virtue and combine it with bipartite (soul/body) and tripartite (intellect/soul/body) anthropological theories.8 Their views on anthropology and cosmology are based on a vertical scheme: i.e., the visible cosmos (the below realm) can only be explained by reference to eternal, incorporeal first principles (the above domain), which exist above the cosmos itself.9 Accordingly, men (though mere mortals) have an incorporeal element, a divine part in their nature, i.e., the intellect that can bring harmony to a pre-existing 6 EN 1155A “ὅθεν τοὺς φιλανθρώπους ἐπαινοῦμεν. ἴδοι δ’ ἄν τις καὶ ἐν ταῖς πλάναις ὡς oἰκεῖον ἅπας ἄνθρωπος ἀνθρώπῳ καὶ φίλον.” 7 Cf. Plu., De sera num. 550D: “καὶ γὰρ ἡ πάντων φύσις, ἄτακτος οὖσα, ταύτην ἔσχε τὴν ἀρχὴν τοῦ μεταβάλλειν καὶ γενέσθαι κόσμος, ὁμοιότητι καὶ μεθέξει τινὶ τῆς περὶ τὸ θεῖον ἰδέας καὶ ἀρετῆς.” 8 L. Roig Lanzillotta, “One Human Being, Three Early Christian Anthropologies: An Assessment of Acta Andreae’s Tenor on the Basis of Its Anthropological Views,” VC 61 (2007) 414–444. 9 G. Boys-Stones, Platonist Philosophy 80 bc to ad 250: An Introduction and Collection of Sources in Translation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018) 24–25.

144

despotis

soul full of desires (Plutarch, De animae procreatione in Timaeo 1015A). However, this divine element has to abandon the material world and contemplate the Good. Three crucial observations shall be made here: First, some Platonists adopted a more positive understanding of matter than Plato had done. For it is not matter itself but a pre-existing soul that can cause evil (De animae procreatione in Timaeo 1014B–E). However, Platonists did not approve of the idea that God has created everything. Plutarch explicitly challenges this concept (Adversus Colotem 1113C; cf. De latenter vivendo 1129F) while Philo and John seem to claim the opposite (Philo, De providentia fr. 1; John 1:3).10 Second, Platonists integrated concepts of Neopythagoreanism and Stoicism in their interpretations of Plato. Thus, Antiochus of Ascalon merged Plato’s Demiurge and world soul into the Stoic active principle, i.e., the logos/pneumatic element.11 This logos functions as a second intermediary God between immaterial ideas and the material universe but can also be hidden in seeds (like the Stoic spermatic logos) and define the form of things.12 A third essential point is the concept of assimilation to God, an idea from Plato’s Theaetetus 176BC (Cf. Phaedrus 248A, Respublica 613AB, Phaedo 82BC, Timaeus 90B–D, Leges 716D). The notion of assimilation to God was highlighted by Middle Platonists since the time of Eudorus of Alexandria13 as the very goal of philosophy and ethics. Probably, they were responding to the debates of their contemporary Stoics about the ultimate telos of Stoic life. Stoics considered the whole cosmos divine. Therefore, the most common Stoic definition of the telos was “life in agreement with nature” (Zeno, fr. 1.179).14 Thus, nature becomes a moral category, and the principle “life according to nature” is translated by Epictetus as following the Gods (Dissertationes 1.12.5; 2.14.11), as the free moral intention (προαίρεσις 1.30.3), or as possessing the right reason (4.8.12). Therefore, the Stoic sage’s virtue equals Zeus’ virtue.15 Middle Platonists understood the telos as assimilation to God. They were aware of the different layers that the idea of conformity to a transcendent God may have and they tried to harmonize them. In Plutarch, the ὁμοιότης (De sera 10 11 12 13 14

15

Boys-Stones, Platonist Philosophy, 115–116. Cf. Cic., Acad. 1.28–29. Thrasyllus in Porph., In Harm. 3.3. See Boys-Stones, Platonist Philosophy, 233. Cf. Eudorus in Stob., Anth. 2.7.3–4: “Τὸ δέ γε πολύφωνον τοῦ Πλάτωνος οὐ πολύδοξον.” See in detail C. Jedan, “Metaphors of Closeness: Reflections on Homoiôsis Theôi in Ancient Philosophy and Beyond,”Numen 60 (2013) 54–70; G. Reydams-Schils, “‘Becoming like God’ in Platonism and Stoicism,” in T. Engberg-Pedersen (ed.), From Stoicism to Platonism: The Development of Philosophy, 100 bce–100 ce (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017) 142–158. See discussion in Jedan, “Metaphors of Closeness”, 66.

the relation between anthropology and love ethics

145

numinis vindicta 550D) refers to moral assimilation to God and especially to his philanthropy or humanity that leads humans to repentance (De sera 550F; Ad principem ineruditum 781A). However, humans can also experience a post mortem assimilation to God by an ontological change (μεταβολή);16 that is, an alteration in their being and potential, a return to the divine light. In Philo, the ἐξομοίωσις (De Abrahamo 144) also refers to assimilation to the image of God, i.e., the Logos (Quaestiones et Solutiones in Exodum 2.62; Legum allegoriae 3.207) and his humanity (De virtutibus 168). Given that souls are created according to the image of the Logos, they are akin to God17 (συγγένεια), can conduct a philosophical way of life and become divine as it has been the case with Moses.18 In his description of the first human being, Philo describes the potential of the human soul as follows: … and being of the same genus and having the seed (συγγενής τε καὶ ἀγχίσπορος) of the Ruler, since the divine Spirit had flowed into him in full current, he earnestly endeavored in all his words and actions to please the Father and King, following Him step by step in the highways cut out by virtues, since only for souls who regard it as their goal to be fully conformed to God who begat them (πρὸς τὸν γεννήσαντα θεὸν ἐξομοίωσιν) is it lawful to draw nigh to Him (De opificio mundi 144, LCL translation, rev.). In Philo’s view, humans have a dynamic kinship with God; they share the potential to become partakers of the above realm.19 But only the seeker of knowledge (φιλομαθής cf. Plato, Phaedo 82B–C) turns to God and by fleeing to the divine realm receives or restores the divine seeds that grow and become perfect in him.20 Philo speaks about a noetic, godlike seed that arises from the union of the soul with the Logos and which leads humans to moral perfection without needing instruction by someone else (σπέρμα τὸ νοητὸν ἐκεῖνο, τὸ αὐτοδίδακτον, τὸ θεοειδές).21 After this short description of the philosophical discourse in the early Imperial era, we turn to John. 16 17

18 19 20 21

De def. or. 415C. Cf. De genio Socr. 593D–F; De facie 944D–E. Opif. 146. On the popular-philosophical idea of kinship to God see J. Thom, “God the Savior in Greco-Roman Popular Philosophy,” in D. du Toit et al. (eds.), Sōtēria: Festschrift in Honour of Cilliers Breytenbach on the Occasion of His 65th Birthday (Boston: Brill, 2019) 86–96. Sacr. 8. Fug. 62–63. QG 3.12. Her. 63–67. The Philonic seed notion belongs to a widespread vocabulary used by both Stoics and Platonists. See above n. 11. See earlier use regarding anthropogony in Plato, Tim. 41C and moral transformation in Arist., EN 1179B.

146 3

despotis

Reconsidering Anthropology and Ethics in John

John begins his narrative by reflecting about the Christ event in the context of cosmological, anthropological and epistemological speculations. The author does not simply imitate the beginning of the book of Genesis but also follows the current tendency22 of speculating about principles that function as intermediaries between a supreme (and super-noetic)23 God and his creation. In his prologue, John adapts Hellenistic Jewish philosophical interpretations of the Genesis story (and implicitly its imago Dei anthropology)24 to a Christocentric frame. This is mostly the case with the term λόγος. It presupposes a broad cultural dialogue. John delivers a new concept: the Logos incarnate, who derives from a relationship of love with the Father (John 1:18; 13:23), explains (ἐξηγήσατο) God to the world, i.e., reveals that God is love, and transmits this love to the believers (John 17:24–26; 1John 4:7–8:16). Furthermore, John tries to solve acute problems regarding epistemology25 and physics. He describes why and how a transcendent, supreme principle can relate to the material universe, how knowledge about God can be valid (John 1:18) and what is the root of the truth (John 14:6). John’s solution is summarized in the idea of incarnation (John 1:14).26 John addressed the incarnation concept to readers/hearers prepared to understand the sensible world more positively than Sceptics. Accordingly, in Plutarch’s allegory about Eros, who symbolizes the highest among Gods, the “heavenly Eros” comes to humans through bodily forms to steer them to “heavenly” truth through “images of the divine beauty” (Amatorius 765A). John provides a new interpretation of the relationship between the two different

22

23

24 25

26

See e.g. fr. 5 of the so-called founder of Middle Platonism, Eudorus of Alexandria, in C. Mazzarelli, “Raccolta e interpretazione delle testimonianze e dei frammenti del medioplatonico Eudoro di Alessandria,” RFN 77 (1985) 197–209. 535–555. In Philo of Alexandria, Moderatus of Gades and Maximus of Tyre, we detect beginnings of a negative or apophatic theology that finds its climax in Neoplatonism. It is striking that not only the supreme God but also the mediator logos are characterized by incomprehensibility (ἄληπτος in Alcin., Did. 4.2). On the differences between the Hebrew and the Septuagint understanding of the imago Dei anthropology see G. van Kooten, “Image of God,” in EBR 12 (2016) 885–889. D. Boyarin, “By Way of Apology: Dawson, Edwards, Origen,” SPhiloA 16 (2004) 188–217; R. Hirsch-Lupold, “ὕλη θεολογίας: Religious Lore as Inter‘text’ in Plutarch’s Moralia,” in T. Schmidt et al. (eds.), The Dynamics of Intertextuality in Plutarch (Leiden: Brill 2020) 525– 538. R.R. Cox, By the Same Word: Creation and Salvation in Hellenistic Judaism and Early Christianity (Berlin/New York: de Gruyter, 2007) 24.

the relation between anthropology and love ethics

147

ontological realms. He avoids the divine image27 or the divine mirror28 notions used both by biblical and profane authors to interpret the role of mediators in cosmogony, anthropogony, the divine revelation, and eschatological transformation. In John’s view, the λόγος bridges the two ontological realms (spirit and flesh) in a challenging way: He does not work through images, mirrors, or bodies but becomes an embodied physical entity due to his Father’s love for the world. This understanding of the incarnation as a real historical event and not only as an allegory was counterintuitive for both Jewish and pagan authors.29 The Logos is not an intermediate principle that steers the material world to the God above.30 The Logos becomes flesh, ‘explains’ the invisible God in the created reality, and restores the divine kinship of human beings. From the Johannine perspective, the Divine moves from an apophatic state to a more cataphatic condition, for God reveals himself as self-sacrificing love in the Christ event. Conversely, Christ-believers experience a dynamic ascent to God that is increasingly apophatic.31 Regarding anthropology, another crucial term, i.e., the “true light” (John 1:9 cf. Plato, Phaedo 109E) that enlightens all human beings must be discussed here. The Johannine “true light” refers to the Logos prior to and after his descent from heaven by which he became a historical person, to whom people turn and in whom they believe. Aristobulus32 and Philo33 had already connected the Platonic notion of light with the Logos and understood the human soul as the image of the Logos in the sense that souls are both akin to the divine Logos34 and able to assimilate to the Logos. Similarly, Plutarch stresses that souls can be identified with the light. For human souls seek life because it brings us know-

27 28 29 30 31

32 33

34

Gen 1:26; 2:7; 5:1; 9:6; Rom 8:29; 1 Cor 11:7; 2 Cor 3:18; 4:4; Col 1:15; 3:10. Amatorius 765B. E.g. Aristobulus, fr. 5a: “θεὸς γὰρ ἄκμητός τε καὶ ἀπαθὴς καὶ ἀπροσδεής, ἀναπαύλης δὲ ἡμεῖς οἱ σαρκοφοροῦντες δεόμεθα.” Cf. Philo, Deus 140–143. Numen., fr. 18. Cf. G.L. Parsenios, First, Second, and Third John (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2014) 73–74. Though John does not deliver the technical negative (apophatic) terms, e.g. ἀκατάληπτος, Johannine Jesus claims that one cannot know (3:8) how by turning to faith and baptism one becomes “born of the Spirit.” Contrary to the genre conventions, he also leaves Nicodemus’ last question unanswered (apophaticism in narrative form). fr. 5a. Fug. 31–36; Somn. 1.75. G. van Kooten, “The ‘True Light which Enlightens Everyone’ (John 1:9): John, Genesis, the Platonic Notion of the ‘True, Noetic Light,’ and the Allegory of the Cave in Plato’s Republic,” in G. van Kooten (ed.), The Creation of Heaven and Earth: Reinterpretations of Genesis 1 in the Context of Judaism, Ancient Philosophy, Christianity, and Modern Physics (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2005) 149–194. Praem. 161.

148

despotis

ledge of the truth (De latenter vivendo 1129F–1130C; Non posse 1093A). John uses all three terms, i.e., light, life, and Logos in a context where he stresses that all humans have been created by the Logos (John 1:3) and in their initial status shared in the light or life (1:4). While the light is identified with life, it remains in conflict with darkness35 because darkness is linked to death and ignorance. Though humans have the capacity to love the light, i.e., to prefer the Logos (cf. Plutarch De facie 944E), most of them have loved the darkness (3:19) for “their deeds were evil.”36 John is cautious in his formulations about the relationship between humans, the Logos, and the light because the relevant verbs are put in the imperfect tense and thus related to the time of creation. Thus, all humans are characterized by John as being the Logos’ “own” people (ἴδιοι 1:11).37 In John, all humans are the Logos’ “own” because all have been created by him and share an initial relationship with the light, according to v. 4. This is also the case with v. 9, which is formulated again in the imperfect tense, denoting continuity: “Ἦν τὸ φῶς τὸ ἀληθινόν ὃ φωτίζει πάντα ἄνθρωπον ἐρχόμενον εἰς τὸν κόσμον.”38 Most exegetes link the participle ἐρχόμενον to φῶς, interpret the participle as neutral and put the reference to universal enlightenment in brackets. However, according to the normal flow of the text,39 the participle ἐρχόμενον is masculine because it is an attribute of πάντα ἄνθρωπον entering the world by his birth (cf. 16:21).40 Accord-

35 36 37 38

39

40

Cf. Philo, Opif. 33–34. According to Arist., EN 1157A, evil people cannot relate to men of virtue. The human being was commonly considered to be a λογικόν ζῷον. Philo, QG 1.31; Plu., De am. prol. 495C. Cf. F. Nobilio, “The Implied Definition of the Prophet and Its Middle-Platonic Trajectory in the Gospel of John,” Neotestamentica 41 (2007) 131–156; J. Draper, “Not by Human Seed but Born from Above to Become Children of God: Johannine Metaphor of Family or Ancient Science?” In die Skriflig 51 (2017) 1–11 (9). Besides the normal flow of the text, three more exegetical reasons justify my reading: (1) All humans initially or potentially share in the divine light according to v. 4 (το φῶς τῶν ἀνθρώπων) and therefore are ἴδιοι (v. 11), i.e., the light’s people. Due to their creation by the Logos, they already have a relationship to the light. (2) Both references to the “light coming in the world” in John 3:19; 12:46 are written in the perfect tense (not in the present tense like the participle ἐρχόμενον) and directly linked to φῶς (following the normal flow of the text). Accordingly, if the participle of ἔρχομαι defined φῶς, it should be in past or perfect tense (ἐλθών, ἐληλυθώς). (3) The following statement in v. 10 ἐν τῷ κόσμῳ ἦν presupposes that the Logos had a continuous presence in the world beginning at the moment of creation. Cf. the references to the Logos’ glory prior to incarnation in 8:56; 12:41. See discussion in C.S. Keener, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 2003) 394–395; M.J. Harris, John (Nashville, TN: B&H Publishing Group, 2015) 29–30. According to Hellenistic-Jewish speculation, all men possess the ‘image’ of God, i.e., the intellect (Philo, Opif. 69–71).

the relation between anthropology and love ethics

149

ingly, John indifferently describes the Logos as the “light” of all men in v. 4. From this point of view, Origen (Commentarius in Iohannem 2.23.148) had good reason to mention that the Logos is called the “light of men” in v. 4, because all humans are fashioned in the “image of God” and receive the life by his Logos or his Spirit (6:63). However, humans have damaged this relationship due to sin (ἁμαρτία 1:29; 3:19). This relationship can be re-established and brought to perfection. John describes the fundamental change in the being of those who believe in the Logos incarnate. Baptized believers receive the power to become “children of God” (1:12–13), immortals (8:52), “sons of light” (12:36). Those early Christian exegetes who were aware of the ancient discourse about assimilation to God as the ultimate goal of philosophical life41 have linked the Johannine concept of becoming children or sons of God to the Platonic idea of ὁμοίωσις Θεῷ.42 Clement of Alexandria claims that those who are called to become “sons of God” experience the assimilation by following the path to perfection according to the gospel.43 Another Johannine text, 1John 3:2, is illuminating: ἀγαπητοὶ νῦν τέκνα θεοῦ ἐσμεν, καὶ οὔπω ἐφανερώθη τί ἐσόμεθα. οἴδαμεν ὅτι ἐὰν φανερωθῇ, ὅμοιοι αὐτῷ ἐσόμεθα, ὅτι ὀψόμεθα αὐτόν, καθώς ἐστιν. Beloved, now, we are children of God, but it has not yet been revealed what we will be. For we know that when he is revealed, we will be assimilated to him because we will see him as he is. John claims that believers are already granted the status of being children of God, but full assimilation to God or his Son44 by seeing him will occur at the eschaton. Perhaps John challenges the thesis of some philosophically educated secessionists who claimed that they already have a vision (1 John 4:12), communion (1:6; 2:6) and knowledge of God (2:4), they are in the light (2:9) and they do not commit sin (1:8, 10). It is noteworthy that Philo delivers a similar yet not identical insight on anthropology and the goal of ethics and philosophy: humans who conduct a virtuous life are children of the “image of God,” but 41 42 43

44

Clem.Al., Paed. 2.19.100–101. Strom. 6.14.114.6; J.Chr., Hom. Jo. 12.2 (PG 59.84): “ὁμοίους Θεῷ κατὰ δύναμιν τὴν ἡμετέραν.” Strom. 6.14.114.6: “καθ’ ὁμοίωσιν οὖν τοῦ θεοῦ ὁ εἰς υἱοθεσίαν καὶ φιλίαν τοῦ θεοῦ καταταγείς;” 2.22.132: “ἢ γὰρ οὐχ οὕτως τινὲς τῶν ἡμετέρων τὸ μὲν “κατ’ εἰκόνα” εὐθέως κατὰ τὴν γένεσιν εἰληφέναι τὸν ἄνθρωπον, τὸ “καθ’ ὁμοίωσιν” δὲ ὕστερον κατὰ τὴν τελείωσιν μέλλειν ἀπολαμβάνειν ἐκδέχονται; αὐτίκα ὁ Πλάτων τὴν ὁμοίωσιν ταύτην μετὰ ταπεινοφροσύνης ἔσεσθαι τῷ ἐναρέτῳ.” Cf. ibid., 2.22.136.6. It is not clear if the pronoun αὐτῷ refers to God or his Son.

150

despotis

becoming “sons of God” is a process only for the perfect ones, the divinized philosophers like Moses (De confusione linguarum 146–147; De sacrificiis Abelis et Caini 8–9). If we read the Gospel’s prologue against the background of Philo and Plutarch, it is evident that John offers a new concept of assimilation to God (ὁμοίωσις Θεῷ). The idea of becoming children of God by a transformative vision that occurs in the Gospel’s prologue (ἐθεασάμεθα v. 14) is linked to the assimilation notion in 1John 3:2 as the goal of Christian life.45 The ultimate goal of Johannine ethics is not only eternal life46 but assimilation to God or God’s Son. Such assimilation has a teleological47 meaning, if we consider that the context of 1John 3 refers to a work in progress. Verse 6 (“no one who sins has either seen him or known him”) of the same chapter also presupposes that believers who stay in the community already experience alteration by the transformative “vision of God” or “birth from God” that results in ethics of love (vv. 10– 11). Believers are in the process of dynamic assimilation to God or his Son by beholding God’s glory in Christ in the Johannine community. By stressing the transformative vision of God’s glory, both in the Gospel’s prologue (cf. John 1:14– 18) and in 1John 3, John develops Hellenistic Jewish speculations about Moses’ transformation in the light of divine glory in Exodus 33–34. These aspects of the Johannine believers’ transformation are explained in John 3. Jesus’ first answer to Nicodemus (“ἐὰν μή τις γεννηθῇ ἄνωθεν, οὐ δύναται ἰδεῖν τὴν βασιλείαν τοῦ θεοῦ,” 3:3) must be interpreted from the perspective of the religious-philosophical blend we have already described. Philo represents a Jewish tradition describing Moses as a Platonic sage and speculating that by his second ascent on Mount Sinai, Moses experienced a second birth, where he received the holiest nature of the Hebdomad, i.e., the number seven that is a symbol of God.48 Moses allegedly participated in the perfect genus (τελεώτατον γένος)49 and became divine.50 According to Philo, a “heavenly man” does not experience a new creation but rather a second birth, for he approaches realms

45 46 47

48 49 50

According to Psalm 11:7 (M); 17:15 (M), the righteous will have a similar vision at the eschaton (Cf. John 17:24; Matt 5:8; 1 Cor 13:12). See Benemma, “Virtue Ethics and the Johannine Writings,” 265. John links protology and eschatology because believers are in the process to achieve what they were striving for according to Gen 3:5. Cf. J. Schneider, “ὅμοιος,” in G. Friedrich (ed.), ThWNT vol. 5: Ξ-Πα (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1954) 186–198 (188). Opif. 91, 95, 102, 111; QE 2.46. Plutarch also is aware of this interpretation of the hebdomad; cf. De E 391F. Sacr. 8–9. Ibid.

the relation between anthropology and love ethics

151

that are far beyond the human γένος.51 The perfect man is raised to God by the Logos. Thus the “heavenly man” is not a creature (κτίσμα) but a begotten one (γέννημα),52 for according to Platonists, the progeny contains the power of the one who generates53 οr, in Philo’s view, the Logos.54 This has been the case of Isaac who has been integrated into the γένος of God.55 John transforms this tradition by interpreting turning to faith and baptism56 not as a new creation, like Paul does, but as “being born” from above or, according to the narrative in John 9, as receiving sight on the Sabbath, i.e., the seventh day. According to Aristobulus ( fr. 5) and Philo (De opificio mundi 29–32; 89– 122), the seventh day is not the day God ceases from his activity (cf. John 5:17; 9:4). On the seventh day, the “seventh light”57 or the image of the Logos shone, which explained (διερμηνεύσατο) its holiest nature of the number seven that transcends all human words.58 In John’s view, human transformation by the divine light occurs by divine intervention, i.e., God’s bridging the ontological gap between the human and the divine spheres in the Christ event. The Christ event makes it possible for believers to transcend the limits of different natures and experience the “birth from above.”

51 52 53

54 55 56

57 58

Fug. 103. Leg. 1.31. Plu., Quaest. Plat. 2.1001B: “ἡ δ’ ἀπὸ τοῦ γεννήσαντος ἀρχὴ καὶ δύναμις ἐγκέκραται τῷ τεκνωθέντι καὶ συνέχει τὴν φύσιν, ἀπόσπασμα καὶ μόριον οὖσαν τοῦ τεκνώσαντος.” See further G. van Kooten, “The Divine Father of the Universe from the Presocratics to Celsus: The GraecoRoman Background to the ‘Father of All’ in Paul’s Letter to Ephesians,” in F. Albrecht & R. Feldmeier (eds.), The Divine Father: Religious and Philosophical Concepts of Divine Parenthood in Antiquity (Leiden: Brill, 2014) 293–323. Conf. 144–146. Sacr. 7. The explanatory phrase ἐξ’ ὕδατος καὶ πνεύματος (3:5) refers to regeneration through water baptism and the power of the Spirit. Though one can list seven different interpretations of this expression (see W.C. Weinrich, John 1:1–7:1 [St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 2015] 413–424), both the context of chapters 1–3 with the repeated references to water baptism (1:26, 31, 33; 3:23, 25) as well as our research in the pre-Johannine Greek literature attest to the fact that the wording “from water and Spirit” refers to ritual baptism and the renewal by the power of the Spirit. See in detail A. Despotis, “Drawing and Transcending Boundaries in the Dialogue between Jesus and Nicodemus: Fresh Perspectives from John’s Hellenistic Background and Chrysostomic Reception,” JECH 8 (2018) 68–87. Cf. G. van Kooten, “Human Being,” in R.L. Brawley (ed.), The Oxford Encyclopedia of the Bible and Ethics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014) 394–405. Opif. 29: “ἑβδόμου φωτός, ὃ πάλιν ἀσώματον ἦν καὶ νοητὸν ἡλίου παράδειγμα.” Opif. 90: “τὴν δ’ ἑβδομάδος φύσιν … παντὸς οὖσαν λόγου κρείττονα.”

152 4

despotis

John’s Ethics of Love and the Cultural Blend

Kinship with God and his Logos is the basis for the Johannine ethics that are condensed in the notion of love. For Johannine love requires a birth from God who is defined as love (1John 4:8). Love exists before creation (John 17:25) and is the aspect of the invisible God that Jesus reveals to the world.59 By using kinship language regarding love, John links ethics to metaphysics. This link makes sense from two different perspectives: on the one side, love occurs by nature (φύσει) in a kinship relationship.60 On the other side, those born from God are expected to share in the fundamental divine character trait of love.61 Philo and Plutarch, following the earlier ideas of Plato and Aristotle62 as well as the current revival of interest in social ethics,63 characterized God as being φιλάνθρωπος64 and expected from their audience to imitate God’s humanity (φιλανθρωπία) to all human beings. Middle Platonists claimed that God established a natural affection in humans for the truth,65 as well as towards all humans and animals. It is striking that Plutarch draws on a pre-Socratic tradition to identify the good cosmic principle with “φιλότητα” καὶ “φιλίαν” (De Iside et Osiride 370D)66 and highlights God’s humanity (φιλανθρωπία).67 Plutarch stresses that conducting humanity for no advantage is what the best philosophers seek.68 He believed that humans are naturally (φύσει) inclined to it,69

59 60 61 62 63

64 65

66 67 68 69

Cf. Plu., Arist. 6.3–6. EN 1155A “φύσει τ’ ἐνυπάρχειν ἔοικε πρὸς τὸ γεγεννημένον τῷ γεννήσαντι καὶ πρὸς τὸ γεννῆσαν τῷ γεννηθέντι.” Philo, Virt. 51–52. Lg. 713D; 900D. Muson., Diss. 17: “μεγαλόφρων δὲ καὶ εὐεργετικὸς καὶ φιλάνθρωπος·τοιοῦτον γὰρ ἐπινοοῦμεν τὸν θεόν· οὕτω καὶ τὸ ἐκείνου μίμημα τὸν ἄνθρωπον ἡγητέον.” Cf. Epict., Diss. 2.14.11–13; Max.Tyr., Or. 35.2. Philo, Spec. 3.152; Virt. 77; Opif. 81; Mut. 29; Abr. 137, 203; QG 2.54; Plu., Numa 4.2; De Pyth. or. 402A; De genio Socr. 593A; Amatorius 758A. Intermediaries (e.g. λόγος, δαίμων, ἄγγελος) have a desire (ἔφεσις) to return the world to the truth. See Numen., fr. 18. On ἔφεσις cf. Plu., De Is. et Os. 351E. According to Julius Pollux Onom. 5.165 ἔφεσις belongs to the same semantic field with ἐπιθυμία and ἔρως. Regarding love in humans and the matter for the truth, cf. Plu., De sera num. 550D: “ἀσπάζεσθαι καὶ ἀγαπᾶν ἐθιζομένη τὸ εὔσχημον ἡ ψυχή.” Cf. Alcin., Did. 13.3; Boys-Stones, Platonist Philosophy, 112. Cf. Emp., fr. 22; Arist., Metaph. 1072B. Num. 4.2; De Pyth. or. 402A; Amatorius 758A; De comm. not. 1075E. De soll. an. 984C. De am. prol. 495C–496C; Pel. 6.5; Marc. 10.6; Luc. 180; Demetr. 4.1.

the relation between anthropology and love ethics

153

but they also need moral instruction (ἀγωγή)70 and reason (λόγος)71 to become habituated to φιλανθρωπία. Furthermore, the Plutarchan notion of humanity embraces a broader scope than any other virtue,72 and virtue is the only aspect humans share of the Divine.73 In Philo, φιλανθρωπία also functions as a culminating virtue,74 and therefore the treatise he devotes to her (De virtutibus 51–174) is lengthier than the ones concerning any other virtue. Due to God’s humanity occurs the condescension (συγκατάβασις) of the divine λόγος/λόγοι for the salvation of humans.75 This idea emerges in Philo76 and is developed in John 3. John explains that the mystery of the descent, incarnation, and crucifixion of the Logos results from God’s unconditional love for all humans (3:16). John’s love concept is similar to the Philonic notion of humanity. However, in John’s reflections, we detect a sharper focus on the link between divine kinship and love than we do in Philo. This focus probably results from John’s counterintuitive idea of the Logos’ incarnation and the interpretation of turning to faith in Christ as a birth from above. Kinship to God is not a mere metaphor77 but describes the reality experienced only by the baptized believers in the Johannine community. Αγαπητοί, ἀγαπῶμεν ἀλλήλους, ὅτι ἡ ἀγάπη ἐκ τοῦ θεοῦ ἐστιν, καὶ πᾶς ὁ ἀγαπῶν ἐκ τοῦ θεοῦ γεγέννηται καὶ γινώσκει τὸν θεόν. Beloved, let us love one other, because love is from God and everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God (1 John 4:7; cf. 1 John 3:10). Johannine accentuation of love does not only result from early Imperial philosophical traditions but goes back to teachings of the historical Jesus as well as to a ‘philanthropic’ interpretation of the Mosaic law by Hellenistic-Jewish Pla70 71 72

73 74 75 76 77

Ages. 1.3. De aud. poet. 33F; De tranq. an. 466F. Ca. Ma. 5; Cons. ad Apoll. 120A. See F. Becchi, “La notion de Philanthropia chez Plutarque: Contexte social et sources philosophiques,” in J.R. Ferreira (ed.), Symposion and Philanthropia in Plutarch (Coimbra: Coimbra University Press, 2009) 263–274 (265). Arist. 6.3–6. W.T. Wilson, Philo of Alexandria On Virtues: Introduction, Translation, and Commentary (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2011) 36. Somn. 1.149. John 3:13–16. Cf. Tit 3. D. Konstan, In the Orbit of Love: Affection in Ancient Greece and Rome (New York: Oxford University Press, 2018) 33–60 makes evident that crucial statements regarding love and affection have been understood literally rather than merely metaphorically by the ancient audience.

154

despotis

tonists.78 However, the love expressed by Jesus in the Gospels of the New Testament is wholly in agreement with contemporary philosophical understandings of philanthropy and the ideal to turn enemies to friends by showing them humanity (Epictetus, Dissertationes 3.22.54–55; Appianus, Bella civilia 5.4.38).79 John draws on these amalgams of Jewish-biblical, Jesuanic, and popularphilosophical traditions to characterize love as ‘commandment’80 This description of love as commandment echoes the double commandment of the Tora (Deuteronomy 6:5; Leviticus 19:18) quoted in Mark 12:29–31. Still, John exchanges the notion of πλησίον that occurs in earlier traditions with a kinship term, i.e., ἀδελφός: καὶ ταύτην τὴν ἐντολὴν ἔχομεν ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ, ἵνα ὁ ἀγαπῶν τὸν θεὸν ἀγαπᾷ καὶ τὸν ἀδελφὸν αὐτοῦ. And this is his commandment: the one who loves God must love his brother also (1John 4:21).

5

Semantics of Love-Ethics in John

John, like other early Christian authors who deliver encomia on love (1 Corinthians 13; 1Clement 49), uses the vocabulary of the Septuagint, i.e., primarily the lexeme ἀγαπ* (ἀγαπάω, ἀγάπη, ἀγαπητός) and secondarily the semantic isotope φιλ* (φιλέω, φίλος) to integrate Hellenistic Jewish insights on ἀγάπη81 and Graeco-Roman φιλία values in it. The opposite idea, i.e., hatred, is expressed by the verb μισέω. Regarding the frequency of terms, John more often reflects on the verb ἀγαπᾷν in his Gospel narrative, while he prefers the abstract ἀγάπη in his letter. Furthermore, the notion of love is mainly discussed in the Farewell Discourse (13–17) in the Gospel, where the “beloved” disciple also emerges. In 1 John, the encomium on love appears in 4:7–5:4, but previous chapters, too, include references to love. The ἀγαπ* lexeme per se does not have a fixed quality because it can generally mean preference based on deliberation (John 3:19; 12:43; 1 John 2:15 cf.

78 79 80 81

Philo, Virt. 51–174. R.M. Thorsteinsson, Jesus as Philosopher: The Moral Sage in the Synoptic Gospels (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018) 68. O. Wischmeyer, Liebe als Agape: Das frühchristliche Konzept und der moderne Diskurs (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015) 107. Cf. Ep.Arist. 229; Test xii Gad 4.6.

the relation between anthropology and love ethics

155

regarding φιλεῖν and μισεῖν John 12:25) or it can rarely refer to an emotional relationship (John 11:3, 5, 6). Ηοwever, hatred mostly belongs to the “darkness” and causes spiritual blindness and death in human beings (1 John 2:9–11), while the notion of ἀγάπη refers most of the time to the realm of “light.” Three points must be underlined here: first, the use of the verb ἀγαπᾷν in imperative or exhortative forms (e.g., 1John 4:7) presupposes voluntary and not compulsory ethics.82 Second, Johannine love is paired with faith in Christ (1 John 3:23). Thus, it has a Christological basis and refers to the narrative of Jesus’ self-sacrificial love. Third, the lack of the terms ἔρως/ἐρᾷν results in the distinction of erotic love from ἀγάπη in John. However, Johannine reflections include nuptial or erotic connotations.83 For Jesus is the bridegroom (John 3:29), his first sign occurs at the wedding in Cana (2:1–11), and his encounters with the woman from Samaria at Jacob’s well (4:1–28) and Mary Magdalene in the garden (20:11– 17) allude to a spiritualized eros.84

6

Reciprocal Love

Furthermore, both 1John and the Fourth Gospel refer first and foremost to God’s love, which has the aim of providing humans with eternal life (John 3:16; 1 John 2:5; 3:14; 4:9). The father’s affection for his children is the source of love between relatives in ancient families.85 In John, God’s love always refers to a relational process. Due to his love before the creation (John 17:25), the Father gives everything to the Son (John 3:35) and offers his Son for the salvation of the world (John 3:16). The Son expresses his love for the Father and the world by voluntarily sacrificing his life on the cross, a self-giving that has both local and universal dimensions. Further, believers return this love to the Son and his Father by following the example of Jesus in their willingness to sacrifice their lives (John 12:25; 1John 3:16).86 Last but not least, love will find its perfection at

82 83

84 85 86

Additionally, ἀγαπᾷν has the sense of preferring in John 3:19. A. Taschl-Erber, “Narrative Modelle der johanneischen Liebeskonzeption: Geliebte und liebende JüngerInnen,” in G. Oberhänsli-Widmer & M. Welker (eds.), Liebe (NeukirchenVluyn: Neukirchener, 2014) 119–147; A. Villeneuve, Nuptial Symbolism in Second Temple Writings, the New Testament, and Rabbinic Literature: Divine Marriage at Key Moments of Salvation History (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2016) 120–187; I.M. Kramp, Die Gärten und der Gärtner im Johannesevangelium: Eine raumsemantische Untersuchung (Münster: Aschendorff, 2017) 257–275. Cf. Apul., Plat. 2.14; Alcin., Did. 33.3. Arist., EN 1161B. Cf. self-sacrifice as a moral maxim in Arist., EN 1169A; Joseph and Asenath 13.11.

156

despotis

the eschaton, when the children of God will show boldness (παρρησία) before Christ (1John 4:17) and will be fully conformed to him. Thus, Johannine love can be defined as a relationship of reciprocal devotion that derives from God, follows Jesus’ sacrificial pattern of life, and is demonstrated in the every-day life of the believers (1John 3:17–18). Thus, love holds the community together, attracts outsiders, and brings believers to eschatological union with God (John 17:23). Therefore, the proper relationship to God must be regarded as one not of fear but of love.87 John’s good news for his Early Imperial audience is that humans can experience what the contemporary philosophers were striving for; that is, the full embodiment of God’s love, assimilation to and union with God by turning to faith in Christ and abiding in the community. The initial kinship that all humans share due to their creation by the Logos is restored in Christ, and humans become partakers of the divine love.88 The perfection in divine love is linked by John to correct Christological faith. Obversely, one cannot incorporate God’s love by having a deficient Christological faith. For God’s love has been revealed through the Christ event (1 John 4:9). Again, proper faith is not chosen automatically, for human conduct plays a crucial role in the decision of faith, as is reflected in John 3:20–21. There is a circular scheme: evil deeds prevent people from believing in Christ, and deficient faith in Christ causes a lack of love. This claim sounds similar to the arguments of Hellenistic philosophers regarding the correlation between human conduct and epistemological potency: people prefer “darkness” to “light” because their conduct is evil.89 Depraved people are not able to comprehend the truth and love the light.90 John adopts a popular-philosophical understanding of ethics, for humans need proper conduct to receive the light; that is, Jesus’ exhortations.91 Accordingly, people who do not incorporate a righteous lifestyle, i.e., the ethics of love are children of the devil (John 8:39–44). The Jews who are called “children of the devil” in John 8:44 do not have a fixed demonic origin or status,92 for John does not refer to their creator, but rather he describes with 87 88 89 90 91 92

Philo, QE 2.21; Deus 69. Parsenios, First, Second, and Third John, 24. Plu., De Pyth. or. 396F; Seneca, Ep. 50.3; Ben. 5.25.5–6; Epict., Diss. 1.18.4; 2.20.37; 2.24.19; 4.6.18; Marcus Aurelius, Med. 4.29. Philo, Spec. 1.54. Arist., EN 1179B; Chrysipp.Stoic., SVF 3.682. One only detects a “dualism of decision between faith and unfaith” in John: P. Anderson, “John and Qumran: Discovery and Interpretation over Sixty Years,” in M.L. Coloe & T. Thatcher (eds.), John, Qumran and the Dead Sea scrolls: Sixty Years of Discovery and Debate (Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011) 47.

the relation between anthropology and love ethics

157

whom those who lack love are affiliated. In John, it is not an evil demiurge or a pre-existing chaotic soul but rather God’s archenemy who is responsible for the evil in the world and to whom separatists or opponents of the community assimilate. Nevertheless, because of Christ’s fellowship, the divine seed occurs in the believer, as 1John 3 reveals. The one who is born from God has the seed (σπέρμα) of God (1John 3:9 cf. John 14:17; 1John 2:22). This seed refers to the immaterial, godlike element that does not need instruction (cf. 1 Thessalonians 4:9), and it contains the potential to bear the fruits Jesus expects from his disciples. The notion of ‘seed’ had also been used by Plato (Timaeus 41C) to explain the kinship between God and the human soul. Platonists from the time of Thrasyllus (see n. 11) combined this Platonic term with the Stoic spermatic logos to refer to an inner structure that can be developed in things and individuals. Similarly, as we already have seen, Philo often reflects on the divine seed because this seed is the divine element that—factually, in Philo’s view—dwells in righteous souls and steers them to the very goal of ethics; that is, eudaimonia.93 In John, the σπέρμα is identified with the incorporeal Spirit of God that is infused into believers (John 7:39; 16:7; 20:22),94 teaches them the whole truth (John 14:26; 15:26; 16:13), and enables them to imitate God’s love as it has been demonstrated on the cross (1John 3:16–18). John stresses the love commandment in a way that fits into his idea of the believer’s ontological change; i.e., the process of birth from above.95 This Johannine seed that originates from union with Christ enables believers to manifest this love.96 Love-ethics are an active ‘following’ of Jesus97 (John 13:35; 14:15), but they are also the result of the organic union with the ‘true vine,’ i.e., of being rooted and abiding in Christ98 (John 15:5–6). Finally, as is evident in the Johannine Farewell Discourse, the communion of the Father with the Son is not only the model to which the unity of the believers must correspond. Believers should not be only of one will, in an analogy to Jesus’ being of one will with the Father (5:21, 6:38), but the baptized should also

93 94 95

96 97 98

Mos. 1.279; Det. 60. Cf. Philo, Opif. 135. M.J. Gorman, “John’s Implicit Ethic of Enemy-Love,” in Brown & Skinner (eds.), Johannine Ethics, 135–158 (140). See also M.J. Gorman, Abide and Go: Missional Theosis in the Gospel of John (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2018) 183. D. Lee, “Creation, Ethics, and the Gospel of John,” in Brown & Skinner (eds.), Johannine Ethics, 252. R. Collins, “ ‘Follow Me’: A Life-Giving Ethical Imperative,” in Brown & Skinner (eds.), Johannine Ethics, 43–63. C.W. Skinner, “Love One Another: The Johannine Love Command in the Farewell Discource,” in Brown & Skinner (eds.), Johannine Ethics, 25–42 (34–35).

158

despotis

participate in the communion between the Father and the Son and continue the revelation of God’s love in the world (17:20–26).

7

Conclusions

Johannine love is a reciprocal volitional process,99 a relationship surpassing the boundaries between the transcendent God and the created immanent realm. John’s focus on love can be explained not only through Jewish-biblical traditions or the teaching of the historical Jesus but also through the revival of interest in φιλανθρωπία in Graeco-Roman culture. Therefore, it is anachronistic to postulate that John differentiates between Christian love and secular friendship.100 Philo and Plutarch devote many reflections both to the virtue of humanity and to the description of God as φιλάνθρωπος. Thus, John’s understanding of love is in interaction if not in competition with ideals in the philosophy of his day. By claiming that the one who loves has been born of God, John does not refer to a fictitious family, but he links love-ethics to theology, cosmology, and physics. There are also philosophical traditions in the Early Imperial era, especially Middle Platonism, that link ethics to (meta)physics. John’s usage of relevant concepts (e.g., λόγος, σπέρμα) witnesses that both John as well as the separatists condemned by him combined biblical language with popular philosophical terms in new amalgams. In a time when philosophers adopt negative terminology when speaking about God and human nature (apophatic theology and anthropology), John’s reflections reveal that God, due to his love, descends from an apophatic state to a more cataphatic condition. Conversely, humans who turn to faith in Christ and conduct love experience a dynamic ascent to God that is increasingly apophatic.101 In this process, the Spirit of God, the divine ‘seed,’ plays a crucial role by transforming and steering the believers to the very goal of the Johannine ethics: assimilation to God.

99 100 101

Cf. Arist., EN 1157Β. D. Konstan, Friendship in the Classical World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997) 156–157. With Parsenios, First, Second, and Third John, 73–74.

the relation between anthropology and love ethics

159

Bibliography Anderson, P., “John and Qumran: Discovery and Interpretation over Sixty Years,” in M.L. Coloe & T. Thatcher (eds.), John, Qumran and the Dead Sea scrolls: Sixty Years of Discovery and Debate (Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011) 15–52. Becchi, F., “La notion de Philanthropia chez Plutarque: Contexte social et sources philosophiques,” in J.R. Ferreira (ed.), Symposion and Philanthropia in Plutarch (Humanitas Supplementum, Coimbra: Coimbra University Press, 2009) 263–274. Benemma, C., “Virtue Ethics and the Johannine Writings,” in S. Brown & C.W. Skinner (eds.), Johannine Ethics: The Moral World of the Gospel and Epistles of John (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2017) 261–281. Boyarin, D., “By Way of Apology: Dawson, Edwards, Origen,” SPhiloA 16 (2004) 188– 217. Boys-Stones, G., Platonist Philosophy 80bc to ad250: An Introduction and Collection of Sources in Translation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018). Cox, R.R., By the Same Word: Creation and Salvation in Hellenistic Judaism and Early Christianity (BZNW 145, Berlin/New York: de Gruyter, 2007). Collins, R., “‘Follow Me’: A Life-Giving Ethical Imperative,” in Brown & Skinner (eds.), Johannine Ethics, 43–63. Despotis, A., “Drawing and Transcending Boundaries in the Dialogue between Jesus and Nicodemus: Fresh Perspectives from John’s Hellenistic Background and Chrysostomic Reception,” JECH 8 (2018) 68–87. Draper, J., “Not by Human Seed but Born from Above to Become Children of God: Johannine Metaphor of Family or Ancient Science?” In die Skriflig 51 (2017) 1–11. Gorman, M.J., Abide and Go: Missional Theosis in the Gospel of John (The Didsbury Lectures, Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2018). Gorman, M.J., “John’s Implicit Ethic of Enemy-Love,” in Brown & Skinner (eds.), Johannine Ethics, 135–158. Harris, M.J., John (EGGNT, Nashville, TN: B&H Publishing Group, 2015). Hirsch-Luipold, R., “ὕλη θεολογίας: Religious Lore as Inter‘text’ in Plutarch’s Moralia,” in Th. Schmidt, M. Vamvouri & R. Hirsch-Luipold (eds.), The Dynamics of Intertextuality in Plutarch (Leiden: Brill, 2020) 525–538. Hirsch-Luipold, R., Gott wahrnehmen: Die Sinne im Johannesevangelium (Ratio Religionis Studien 4, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017). Jedan, C., “Metaphors of Closeness: Reflections on Homoiôsis Theôi in Ancient Philosophy and Beyond,” Numen 60 (2013) 54–70. Keener, C.S., The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 2003). Konstan, D., In the Orbit of Love: Affection in Ancient Greece and Rome (New York: Oxford University Press, 2018).

160

despotis

Konstan, D., Friendship in the Classical World (Key Themes in Ancient History, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997). Kooten, G. van, “Image of God,” in EBR 12 (2016) 885–889. Kooten, G. van, “Human Being,” in R.L. Brawley (ed.), The Oxford Encyclopedia of the Bible and Ethics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014) 394–405. Kooten, G. van, “The Divine Father of the Universe from the Presocratics to Celsus: The Graeco-Roman Background to the ‘Father of All’ in Paul’s Letter to Ephesians,” in F. Albrecht & R. Feldmeier (eds.), The Divine Father: Religious and Philosophical Concepts of Divine Parenthood in Antiquity (TBN 18, Leiden: Brill, 2014) 293–323. Kooten, G. van, “The ‘True Light which Enlightens Everyone’ (John 1:9): John, Genesis, the Platonic Notion of the ‘True, Noetic Light’, and the Allegory of the Cave in Plato’s Republic,” in G. van Kooten (ed.), The Creation of Heaven and Earth: Reinterpretations of Genesis i in the Context of Judaism, Ancient Philosophy, Christianity, and Modern Physics (Themes in Biblical Narrative 8, Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2005) 149– 194. Kramp, I.M., Die Gärten und der Gärtner im Johannesevangelium: Eine raumsemantische Untersuchung (FTS 76, Münster: Aschendorff, 2017). Larsen, K.B., The Gospel of John as Genre Mosaic (SANt 3, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015). Lee, D., “Creation, Ethics, and the Gospel of John,” in Brown & Skinner (eds.), Johannine Ethics, 241–259. Mazzarelli, C., “Raccolta e interpretazione delle testimonianze e dei frammenti del medioplatonico Eudoro di Alessandria,” RFN 77 (1985) 197–209. 535–555. Nobilio, F., “The Implied Definition of the Prophet and Its Middle-Platonic Trajectory in the Gospel of John,” Neotestamentica 41 (2007) 131–156. Parsenios, G.L., First, Second, and Third John (Paideia, Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2014). Reydams-Schils, G., “‘Becoming like God’ in Platonism and Stoicism,” in T. EngbergPedersen (ed.), From Stoicism to Platonism: The Development of Philosophy, 100bce– 100ce (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017) 142–158. Roig Lanzillotta, L., “One Human Being, Three Early Christian Anthropologies: An Assessment of Acta Andreae’s Tenor on the Basis of Its Anthropological Views,” VC 61 (2007) 414–444. Roskam, G., “Plutarch’s Theonomous Ethics and Christianity: A Few Thoughts on a Much-Discussed Problem,” in R. Hirsch-Luipold & L. Roig Lanzillotta (eds.), Plutarch’s Religious Landscapes (Brill’s Plutarch Studies 6, Leiden: Brill, 2020) 84–114. Schneider, J., “ὅμοιος,” in G. Friedrich (ed.), ThWNT vol. 5: Ξ-Πα (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1954) 186–198. Skinner, C.W., “Love One Another: The Johannine Love Command in the Farewell Discource,” in Brown & Skinner (eds.), Johannine Ethics, 25–42.

the relation between anthropology and love ethics

161

Taschl-Erber, A., “Narrative Modelle der johanneischen Liebeskonzeption: Geliebte und liebende JüngerInnen,” in G. Oberhänsli-Widmer & M. Welker (eds.), Liebe (JBTh, Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 2014) 119–147. Thom, J., “God the Savior in Greco-Roman Popular Philosophy,” in D. du Toit, Ch. Gerber & Ch. Zimmermann (eds.), Sōtēria: Festschrift in Honour of Cilliers Breytenbach on the Occasion of His 65th Birthday (NovTSup, Boston: Brill, 2019) 86–96. Thorsteinsson, R.M., Jesus as Philosopher: The Moral Sage in the Synoptic Gospels (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018). Villeneuve, A., Nuptial Symbolism in Second Temple Writings, the New Testament, and Rabbinic Literature: Divine Marriage at Key Moments of Salvation History (AJEC 92, Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2016). Watt, J.G. Van der, “Ethics and Community in the Gospel and Letters of John,” in J. Lieu & M. de Boer (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Johannine Studies (Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 2018) 363–379. Weinrich, W.C., John 1:1–7:1 (Concordia Commentary, St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 2015). Wilson, W.T., Philo of Alexandria On Virtues: Introduction, Translation, and Commentary (PACS 3, Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2011). Wischmeyer, O., Liebe als Agape: Das frühchristliche Konzept und der moderne Diskurs (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015).

chapter 8

The Mechanics of Death: Philo’s and Plutarch’s Views on Human Death as a Backdrop for Paul’s Eschatology Julian Elschenbroich

i The corpora of Philo and Plutarch are the most important witnesses of Middle Platonism in the first century ad.1 In some points, they diverge; in many ways, though, they complement one another so as to form a unity, as the classical philologist Eduard Norden stated already in 1924: “Es kann ja nicht auf Zufall beruhen, daß sich uns Zeugnisse Philons und Plutarchs zu einer Einheit ergänzten.”2 Before comparing their works and thoughts in respect of their views on human death, two important points must be mentioned: 1. It is highly unlikely that Plutarch knew the works of the Alexandrian Jew Philo. Although this paper tries to show some structural analogies between the two, single thoughts of entire thematic complexes cannot be reduced to a simple model of linear dependence. Both writers use a style of hints and proofs for questions and solutions to problems which were widely discussed within the philosophical stream of Platonism in the first century ad. The characteristics of the two systems of thought may be better understood in this light: one being the system of a thinker deeply rooted in Judaism, the other of a priest of Apollo at Delphi. Yet both of them are representatives of religious Platonism and its discourses in the first century ad. 2. This paper will rely heavily on structural analogies to compare the two thinkers. Although one might point to terminological similarities between the

1 K. Praechter, “Der mittlere Platonismus,” in K. Praechter (ed.), Die Philosophie des Altertums: Friedrich Ueberwegs Grundriß der Geschichte der Philosophie des Altertums 1 (Berlin: Ernst Sigfried Mittler und Sohn, 1920, rev. 11th edition) 542–556 (536). Until the tenth edition (1909) of this work, the later “Middle Platonists” were just called “pythagoraisierende und eklektische Platoniker.” 2 E. Norden, Die Geburt des Kindes: Geschichte einer religiösen Idee (Leipzig/Berlin: B.G. Teubner, 1924) 98.

© Julian Elschenbroich, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004505070_010

the mechanics of death

163

two corpora, the lens of semantics seems less helpful for our purposes. In Philo, for example, the specific wording can often be explained as depending on the particular text he is interpreting. Therefore, the Alexandrian may treat one issue by using certain words and expressions in one setting and subsequently use other ones elsewhere.3 Further, simply searching for analogies on the semantic level leads to problematic results even within Philo’s writings. If we compare his ideas with those of Plutarch, it becomes obvious that a simple comparison of words and terms will fail to grasp the decisive points of comparison. Therefore, this paper aims to elucidate structural analogies between the two thinkers. Specifically, this contribution examines the views of Philo and Plutarch on the ‘mechanics of death’; that is, the way death is envisaged in physical and thus anthropological terms.4 Following the analysis of Eduard Norden, who ascribed an important role to comparing Philo’s and Plutarch’s thoughts in order to develop a better understanding of the New Testament, some (hopefully) new perspectives on Paul and how he thought about the processes of human death and resurrection shall be given at the end of this essay.

ii For Philo, death is an act of separation of the body from the soul. When he describes this separation in Leg. 1.105, the Alexandrian uses the noun χωρισμός, and in Leg. 1.108, he uses the verb ἀπαλλάσσω: ὁ μὲν οὐν ἀνθρώπου (sc. θάνατος) χωρισμός ἐστι ψυχῆς ἀπὸ σώματος […] (“Now the death [of a human] is the separation of his soul from his body […]”; Leg. 1.105); εἰ δὲ ἀποθάνοιμεν, τῆς ψυχῆς ζώσης τὸν ἴδιον βίον καὶ ἀπηλλαγμένης κακοῦ καὶ νεκροῦ συνδέτου τοῦ σώματος (“But if it were to die, then our soul would live according to its proper life, being released from the evil and dead body to which it is bound”;5 Leg. 1.108). These two quotations show how Philo’s language is deeply rooted in and influenced by Plato—in this case especially by the Phaedo. There, two passages provide a kind of a definition of death: Plato calls death a “separation of the soul 3 With regard to anthropological terms—for example, the naming of the rational part of human souls—cf. H.A. Wolfson, Philo: Foundations of Religious Philosophy in Judaism, Christianity and Islam 1 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, rev. ed. 1968) 389–395. 4 A detailed account will be given in my dissertation, which deals with the views of Plutarch, Philo, and Paul on the ‘mechanics of death’. 5 Greek text: P. Borgen (ed.), “The Philo Concordance Database,” in: Bible Works 9, 2007. English translation: Ch.D. Yonge, The Works of Philo Judaeus: The Contemporary of Josephus, 4 vols. (London: Henry G. Bohn, 1854–1855).

164

elschenbroich

from the body” (χωρισμός ψυχῆς ἀπὸ σώματος; Phaid. 67d) and a “departure of the soul from the body” (τῆς ψυχῆς ἀπὸ τοῦ σώματος ἀπαλλαγή; 64c). However, in other places Philo seems to accept only the rational part of the soul, the νοῦς, as the carrier of human identity after death. Two ideas in particular lead to this impression: 1. Philo describes human beings not only in a dichotomous way as consisting of body and soul, but he also knows the tripartite division: body, irrational (ἄλογον) and rational part of the soul (νοῦς, λόγος, πνεῦμα).6 Philo states explicitly that the body (but presumably also the ἄλογον)7 disperses at the end of life into the elements of which it was were composed. This cannot be the destiny for the rational part of the soul, the divine πνεῦμα, seeing that its substance is immaterial (QG 2.59). 2. Philo expected a separation of the νοῦς and the ἄλογον. This can be inferred by the observation that, for instance, Abraham, Isaac, and Moses attained personal immortality in the sphere of heaven: according to Sacr. 5–8, Abraham became equal to the angels, Isaac is added to the γένος, which stands for the realm of the Ideas, and Moses was placed near God. For Philo, angels consist of pure νοῦς, as Gig. 9 shows:8 ἀλλ’ οὐ παρ’ ὅσον ἀδύνατος ἡ ὄψις ψυχῶν φαντασιωθῆναι τύπους, διὰ τοῦτ’ οὔκ εἰσιν ἐν ἀέρι ψυχαί, καταλαμβάνεσθαι δ’ αὐτὰς ἀναγκαῖον ὑπὸ νοῦ, ἵνα πρὸς τῶν ὁμοίων τὸ ὅμοιον θεωρῆται. But it does not follow, because our sight is incapable of perceiving the forms of souls, that for that reason there are no souls in the air; but it follows of necessity that they must be comprehended by the mind, in order that like may be contemplated by like.9

6 Cf. J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists: 80 B.C. to A.D.220 (rev. ed. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University, 1996) 174–176, but in a much broader study H. Schmidt, Die Anthropologie Philons von Alexandreia (Würzburg: K. Triltsch, 1933). 7 Dillon summarizes the result as following: “We have just seen that the irrational soul—or the irrational part of the soul, as I think Philo would in general prefer to say—is mortal. It disperses on the death of the animal.” Only humans are equipped with a rational part of the soul (the mind), for the irrational part of their souls should be the same substance as the ἄλογον of animals. Dillon, Middle Platonists, 176–177. 8 On angels and their nature, cf. the remarkable summary by Wolfson in: Wolfson, Philo 1, 395– 412. 9 Greek text: Borgen, “The Philo Concordance Database.” English translation: Yonge, The Works of Philo.

the mechanics of death

165

The transition to the sphere of ideas, otherwise referred to as a place next to God, seems to be possible only for the soul as pure νοῦς, since material-somatic entities cannot enter the noetic cosmos. At this juncture, a short remark regarding the important work of Sami YliKarjanmaa shall be offered. In his 2015 publication “Reincarnation in Philo of Alexandria,”10 Yli-Karjanmaa discusses the question: “Did the Alexandrian accept the doctrine of reincarnation?” He arrives at a tentative “yes”. Although the Finnish scholar provides his readers with, as he calls it, “direct” and “indirect evidence”,11 his evidence is not as striking as he argues. David Runia, in his response to Yli-Karjanmaa, raised the question: Is reincarnation really “a fundamental part of Philo’s views on the soul”?12 Due to limits of space, this essay is not the right place to discuss what Philo thinks about this idea, which itself emerges from Pythagorean-Platonic tradition. The crucial point in this essay is the question: What is Philo’s point of view concerning the emancipation of the νοῦς from the entire soul, even if that should happen only for some extremely virtuous individuals like Moses? Indeed, we can find only one probable description of this process within the Corpus Philonicum: Mos. 2.288. χρόνοις δ’ ὕστερον, ἐπειδὴ τὴν ἐνθένδε ἀποικίαν ἔμελλεν εἰς οὐρανὸν στέλλεσθαι καὶ τὸν θνητὸν ἀπολιπὼν βίον ἀπαθανατίζεσθαι μετακληθεὶς ὑπὸ τοῦ πατρός, ὃς αὐτὸν δυάδα ὄντα, σῶμα καὶ ψυχήν, εἰς μονάδος ἀνεστοιχείου φύσιν ὅλον δι’ ὅλων μεθαρμοζόμενος εἰς νοῦν ἡλιοειδέστατον, […] And some time afterwards, when he [Moses] was about to depart from hence to heaven, to take up his abode there, and leaving this mortal life to become immortal, having been summoned by the Father, who now resolved him into elements, having previously been a double entity, composed of soul and body, into the nature of a single entity, transforming him wholly and entirely into a most sun-like mind, […]13 This section describes, as a prolepsis, what will happen to Moses when he encounters death. First, death at the end of his life on earth is called a migration

10 11 12

13

S. Yli-Karjanmaa, Reincarnation in Philo of Alexandria (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015). Yli-Karjanmaa, Reincarnation, vii–viii. Paper given 2016 at the SBL Annual Meeting in San Antonio by D. Runia, “Does Philo accept the doctrine of reincarnation?” http://torreys.org/philo_seminar_papers/ (13.3. 2017). Greek text: Borgen (ed.), “The Philo Concordance Database.” English translation: Yonge, The Works of Philo.

166

elschenbroich

(ἀποικία)—a term Philo often uses to describe death. Secondly, Philo mentions heaven as the goal of this migration (εἰς οὐρανόν). Mos. 2.288 does not provide us with any further information as to which area exactly within the cosmos the reader must envision. However, keeping in mind Sacr. 8, we have to assume that it is a place next to God to which Moses will be taken. In correspondence with the notion of ἀποικία, Philo, in the passage quoted above, talks of “leaving the mortal life” (τὸν θνητὸν ἀπολιπὼν βίον) and becoming immortal (ἀπαθανατίζεσθαι). There are several aspects to be noted here. On the one hand, the Alexandrian expresses his view that it is not during life on earth, but after life on earth that humans might become immortal. On the other hand, the verb ἀπαθανατίζω, which is also used once by Plato in Charm. 165d, indicates that immortality is not a quality, but an act in which one entity is granted immortality by another. That means that neither a human as a whole nor one of his constituent parts holds—at least a personal—immortality per se, but it is granted it by an external source.14 As a third aspect, this act of turning immortal is closely connected to a following act, in which the creator of immortality becomes clear: it is God who is called “father” in this passage. Let us now focus on the activity of God in this process. Two distinct acts are mentioned in the following part of the passage. The phrase μετακληθεὶς ὑπὸ τοῦ πατρός indicates that, according to Philo, the impulse to die, here described in a figurative way as a call, derives from God. Additionally, the verb μετακαλέω implies that the real goal of the emigration is God himself, because it is he who is calling Moses. On the other hand, Philo reports that with this call, God dissolves Moses from a double entity, consisting of σῶμα and ψυχή, into the nature of a single entity, which Philo decribes as νοῦς. This suggests that it is the rational part of the soul of the virtuous human that gains immortality with respect to its substance. By his νοῦς, the virtuous human acquires personal, postmortal existence. Philo uses two different verbs to describe this process of transformation: ἀναστοιχειόω and μεθαρμόζω. The corresponding grammatical subject is always God. ἀναστοιχειόω means the dissolution of an entity into its constituent ele14

Until now, it is unsettled, what Philo thought about the postmortal destiny of a bad or average human. QG 1.16 suggests that there is no personal immortality for these types of humans: “What is the meaning of the expression, ‘Ye shall surely die?’ (Gen 2:17). The death of the good is the beginning of another life; for life is a twofold thing, one life being in the body, corruptible; the other without the body, incorruptible. Therefore one wicked man surely dies the death, who while still breathing and among the living is in reality long since buried, so as to retain in himself no single spark of real life, which is perfect virtue. But a good man, who deserves so high a title, does not surely die, but has his life prolonged, and so attains to an eternal end.” Cf. Dillon, Middle Platonists, 176–177.

the mechanics of death

167

ments. The background for this expression is most likely not only the idea that death is a separation into the two elements of σῶμα und ψυχή, but also that the soul consists of two parts: the irrational part of the soul and the νοῦς. Now, even the soul is split into two distinct elements. By mentioning God alone as the one who is directly involved without using any intermediary in this process, a slight tension seems to emerge with Philo’s description in Sacr. 8. In this section, Philo interprets the expression διὰ ῥήματος in Dt 34:5 to mean that the λόγος is used by God as the intermediary not only to create the cosmos but also to lead Moses from the earthly things to himself. But a closer look at Mos. 2.288 and Sacr. 8 reveals that there is, in fact, no real tension: in both sections, God himself is named as the active one. Moreover, Sacr. 8 only explicitly states that the λόγος is involved in guiding Moses, yet the section suggests, implicitly, that the λόγος is the force through which God acts during the whole process of Moses’ death. Therefore, as regards Mos. 2.288, it can be assumed that the transformation of Moses, which according to Sacr. 8 stands in some kind of relation to creation and therefore could be thought of as an act of new creation, is conducted by God through his λόγος. The second expression describing the total (ὅλον δι’ ὅλων) transformation of Moses is μεθαρμόζω. When used in the middle voice, this verb simply means a change or alteration from one condition to another. The constant in this transformation is Moses’ individual identity—the mode of his existence is changed from a soul consisting of two parts into one pure νοῦς. At the end of this transformation, Moses obtains a “most sun-like” mind. By using the term ἡλιοειδέστατος, Philo alludes to expressions and views presented in Her. 280, sometimes ascribed to Chrysippus,15 where the sun, the moon, and the stars are also mentioned as possible destinies for the souls of the deceased. However, the expression also marks a subtle difference with resprect to these views: While the νοῦς of Moses is extraordinary and very close to God, as the comparison with the sun underlines, he is still only sun-like and not fully identified with the sun. Summa summarum, the death of Moses is described as a dissolution of the earthly human being, mind and soul. At the end of the transformation, Moses post-exists as an individual in the shape of pure νοῦς. But Mos. 2.288 leaves us with many problems and gaps. Indeed, although not yet mentioned in this section, the fate of the σῶμα and the ἄλογον are analogous: both of them are thought to be corruptible and mortal and are therefore dissolved into the elements of which they were composed.16 Other aspects of this transformation

15 16

Wolfson, Philo 1, 398. Wolfson, Philo 1, 395.

168

elschenbroich

remain mysterious. The report of the process of separation of the irrational from the rational part of the soul are stated rather than described. Furthermore, it is not clear if the transformation takes place at the moment of death or rather some time later. Likewise, Philo doesn’t mention any location, at which this process is said to take place. The question remains whether the process described here applies only to Moses as an extraordinarily virtuous person or also to other virtuous human beings. Furthermore, we do not receive any information about the destiny of the νοῦς of evil persons—neither here nor in any other passage within the Corpus Philonicum.17 What we might reason is that, having experienced the death of the soul during their lifetime on earth, evil humans seem to have no personal immortality and perish after death as individuals with their own distinct personalities.18 Because of the fact that the νοῦς of an evil person also seems to consist of the divine πνεῦμα,19 it seems fair to assume that in the frame of Middle Platonic thinking the πνεῦμα—not as an individually shaped form, as νοῦς—cannot perish in respect to its nonmaterialnonsomatic substance, and, most probably, returns to whence it came: to God.

iii Much more explicitly than Philo, Plutarch delineates a tripartite anthropological description of humans (De facie 943A), although he also knows and makes use of dichotomous formulations (Cons. ad Apoll. 102D). This section will focus on Plutarch’s tripartite view. He proceeds from the same anthropological assumption as Philo regarding the processes that take place after the end of a human’s physical life. As Plato did, Plutarch expresses his views about the fate of humans after death primarily in the form of myths. Of the three myths concerning an afterlife (De facie 940F–945D; De sera num. 563B–568A; De genio Socr. 590B–592E),

17 18

19

Cf. n. 15. Hereby, the question should be raised whether Philo’s speech about the “death of the soul” of wicked men is to be understood metaphorically or if the “death of the soul” is rather some kind of prejudgment in life. For the metaphorical interpretation, cf. D. Zeller, “The Life and Death of the Soul in Philo of Alexandria: The Use and Origin of the Metaphor,” The Studia Philonica Annual 7 (1995) 19–55; E. Wasserman, The Death of the Soul in Romans 7 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008) 60–67; against this metaphorical interpretation, cf. J. Conroy, “Philo’s ‘Death of the Soul’: Is this only a Metaphor?” The Studia Philonica Annual 23 (2011) 23–40, who sees himself in line with Wolfson (40). As may be obvious, the author of this essay tends to the Wolfson-Conroy position. Cf. the general interpretation of πνοή (Gen 2:7LXX) in Leg. 1.42.

the mechanics of death

169

De facie in orbe lunae is of particular interest for this article, since in this treatise Plutarch considers the moon to be the location of the separation of the νοῦς from the irrational part of the soul. Due to limits of space, it can only be mentioned here that when reading these myths, one should keep the following in mind: Though Plutarch’s myths are a continuation of the logos on another level of speech, there always remain—due to figurative language—certain ambiguities in understanding, as Rainer Hirsch-Luipold points out in his study on the use of imagery in Plutarch’s philosophy.20 The myth in De facie in orbe lunae starts with a geographical report (De facie 940F–942C) which provides an image of the whole cosmos (942D–F). After describing the tripartite constitution of humans (943A), the movements and transitions of souls after death are integrated into the cosmological framework discussed earlier in the dialogue (943A–945D). Plutarch distinguishes two kinds of death, which he characterizes as follows: The first one reduces a human from three entities to two; the second one reduces him from two entities to a single one (ὁ μὲν ἐκ τριῶν δύο ποιεῖ τὸν ἄνθρωπον ὁ δ’ ἓν ἐκ δυεῖν; 943A). The first death takes place in the domain of Demeter, who is introduced by Plutarch as being connected to earth (942D); she separates the soul from the body swiftly and violently (943B). The second death takes place in the domain of Persephone, who is thought to be connected to the moon (942D). She detaches the mind from the soul slowly and gently; this is an act in which the best part of a human is separated, so she can rightly be called μονογενής (943B). Subsequently, Plutarch locates the souls of the deceased in the sphere between the earth and the moon, which is interpreted as Hades’ realm (942EF). Here, a purification of all souls takes place, since even the souls of virtuous and good men became contaminated during their stay in the body (943C). Depending on their behavior during their lifetimes, they arrive on the moon sooner or later. Plutarch calls them “daemons” (944C). Being some kind of mediating entities between the divine and earthly sphere, they sometimes return to earth (944CD). On the moon, where the second death takes place, the νοῦς is separated from the soul. Plutarch gives an explicit reason for this dissociation: the mind separates because of its love for the image in the sun, which stands for the desirable, the good, the numinous and the blessed—all in all, obviously the divine itself—towards which every nature strives. Here it becomes quite clear that the statement about Persephone, being the one who cuts the mind out of the soul, is meant in a figurative sense for divine acting, since nowhere else

20

R. Hirsch-Luipold, Plutarchs Denken in Bildern: Studien zur literarischen, philosophischen und religiösen Funktion des Bildhaften (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002) 138–144.

170

elschenbroich

within the myth is there a second, active entity mentioned as being involved in this process. The separation on the moon seems to be connected to two hollows mentioned in this context, which seem to be some kind of transit areas of the mind, passing towards the sun or in the reverse direction, coming from the sun back towards the earth. One special hollow called “Hecate’s Recess” represents a place where daemons are punished for their deeds (944C). If they have committed particularly evil deeds, the daemon is once again confined in a body (944D). After the separation of the irrational part of the soul, which is called ψυχή in this context, the νοῦς returns to the sun, from which it originally proceeded. According to De facie 943A, the sun delivers the substance for the νοῦς, the moon for the ψυχή, and the earth for the σῶμα. Regarding the further destiny of the νοῦς, we do not get any more information in De facie except for the remark that it will be transferred to another place due to this very good alteration (944E). The irrational part of the soul, which is individually shaped by the mind, loses this impression gradually after its separation from the νοῦς (944F). Finally, the ψυχή is dissolved into the moon (945A) and during this process its individual profile gets lost bit by bit (945A.C). After some time, the ψυχή is ready for the creation of a new human when the sun gives, once again, the mind as a new seed and the earth contributes a body (945C). The human σῶμα, on the other hand, dissolves back into earth after death (945A).

iv In comparing the views of Philo and Plutarch on the ‘Mechanics of Death’, especially regarding the separation of the mind from the entire soul, we can locate some structural analogies as well as characteristic differences. It is striking that both authors not only make use of religious traditions or go back to authoritative corpora of scriptures, but also proceed to interpret these traditions in allegorical ways. This allows them to fruitfully integrate these texts within their respective system of thought.21

21

In church history, Philo was often identified as the inventor of the method of allegorizing texts; cf., for example, with respect to Theodore of Mopsuestia: D. Runia, Philo in Early Christian Literature: A Survey (Assen: Royal Van Gorcum/Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1993) 265–271. Today, research focuses especially on the Stoic philosopher Chrysippus (280– 205 bc) as one of the first thinkers using this method in a broader way; cf. B. Inwood, “Chrysippos [2],” in H. Cancik & H. Schneider (eds.), Der Neue Pauly: Enzyklopädie der Antike, 16 vols. (Stuttgart/Weimar: Metzler, 1996–2003) 2.1177–1178. This way of interpret-

the mechanics of death

171

The views of Philo and Plutarch concerning the ‘mechanics of death’ are strongly shaped by a tripartite anthropology. Both of them think of death at the end of life on earth as an act of separation of soul and body. The stimulus for the death of a human seems, not only for Philo but also for Plutarch, to come from God (μετακληθεὶς ὑπὸ τοῦ πατρός, Mos. 2.288 / ἕως ἂν ὁ θεὸσαὐτὸς ἀπολύσῃ ἡμᾶς, Cons. ad Apoll. 108CD). Both thinkers regarded the νοῦς as the carrier of individual identity—in the case of Philo, at least Moses’ identity—in a postmortal existence. Philo and Plutarch, on the one hand, call the destination of the migration of the νοῦς “heaven”; on the other hand, they connect the mind in some way with the sun, which seems to be, for both of them, a symbol of divinity. Even though Philo and Plutarch reject a close connection or even identification of the νοῦς with the sun as a star, both thinkers express, through the use of this image, their particular views that the νοῦς is not only somehow related to the divine, but make a particular statement about its essence and provenience. According to Plutarch, the mind proceeds from the sun, which is most likely a symbol for the divine νοῦς,22 while Philo signals the same divine provenience by the breathing-in of divine πνεῦμα into the νοῦς, as described in Leg. 1.37 in his interpretations of the account of anthropogenesis in Gen 2:7. In both cases, the νοῦς is assumed to have a divine origin.23 Furthermore, Philo and Plutarch speak of a distinct step after physical death during which the emancipation of the νοῦς from the entire soul takes place. Both of them described this act as a transformation from a twofold entity to a monad, which could also be seen as a hint of the return to the divine sphere since, for both, God is closely connected with the concept of Oneness.24 Philo’s description of this act of emancipation as a partition of the soul into its constituent single elements was rather summary. In turn, Plutarch described this

22 23

24

ing authorative texts was in use in Alexandria in the third century bc as Zenodotus of Ephesus (325–260 bc) became head of the famous library. Here, Jewish philosophers like Aristobulus and Philo were influenced by this method of allegorizing Homer, but also the LXX; cf. M. Meiser, “Theologische Anmerkungen in alexandrinischer Homerphilologie und theologische Korrekturen in der Septuaginta,” in J. Elschenbroich & J. de Vries (eds.), Worte der Weissagung: Studien zu Septuaginta und Johannesoffenbarung (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2014) 108–136. Hirsch-Luipold, Plutarchs Denken, 165. Cf. G. van Kooten, Paul’s Anthropology in Context: The Image of God, Assimilation to God, and Tripartite Man in Ancient Judaism, Ancient Philosophy and Early Christianity (Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, 2008) 279. R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Der eine Gott bei Philon von Alexandrien und Plutarch,” in id. (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch: Götterbilder—Gottesbilder—Weltbilder (Berlin/York: De Gruyter, 2005) 141–168.

172

elschenbroich

process, which he calls “second death”, elaborately in the myth contained in De facie: He also assumed a cutting-off of the νοῦς from the soul, but he mentioned the moon as the location for this act. Moreover, for Plutarch, the irrational part of the soul seems to be of a material substance and therefore it returns to the matter from which it was taken. Maybe we can utilize Plutarch’s clarity in order to enlighten our understanding of some of Philo’s ambiguities. Philo does not elaborate on the destiny of the irrational part of the soul, but we could infer from Plutarch’s De facie 945A that Philo believed this irrational piece of the soul to be perishable. Plutarch seems to be more advanced in his thinking about the process of the emancipation of the νοῦς from the soul, which Philo only describes very briefly in Mos. 2.288. Compared to Plutarch, the Philonic account of this process appears as distinctly theocentric: Plutarch only mentioned Persephone as the separating goddess, figuratively implying that the process of seperation is connected to and situated on the moon. Philo, on the other hand, names God and his λόγος as being involved in this process. Moreover, Philo, according to Sacr. 8, describes this process in terms of a new creation—at least with respect to Moses. Furthermore, according to Philo, Moses seems not to possess immortality per se due to his anthropological condition, but it is granted to him by God: apparently, only the wise and virtuous can expect personal immortality.

v Does all this have any impact on our reading of Paul’s vision of death? As 1 Thess 5:23 shows, Paul seemed to be aware of the tripartite concept of τὸ πνεῦμα καὶ ἡ ψυχὴ καὶ τὸ σῶμα. Precisely these three lemmata shaped his thinking and speech regarding the processes of death and resurrection in 1 Cor 15:35–58. Furthermore, it is noteworthy that Paul relied, in this context, on the biblical anthropogenesis, citing Gen 2:7 (1Cor 15:45). God is the agent of resurrection, which, according to 1Cor 15:38, is a kind of new creation. 1 Corinthians exhibits a strong resemblance to Philo’s and Plutarch’s views on postmortal processes: this text describes relations between heavenly and earthly bodies and parallelizes these entities with the splendor of sun, moon, and stars (1 Cor 15:40– 41). A second complex of interest is 2Cor 4:7–5:10. This passage is about actions closely related to human death. Here, Paul wrote of the outward and inward man (2Cor 4:16), the emigration out of the body (2 Cor 5:8), the house in heaven (2Cor 5:1), and going home to the Lord (2Cor 5:8). Similar passages include 1 Thess 4:13–18, Rom 8, and Phil 1:21–26. The questions is: Is it possible that Pau-

the mechanics of death

173

line anthropology is generally shaped by a tripartite model? George van Kooten, in contrast to Udo Schnelle,25 suggests this strongly: In Paul’s triad pneuma, psychē and sōma, the pneuma is a component of man, as the comparisons with Philo unequivocally show. It is part of the triad which characterizes man as trichotomous being.26 If 1Thess 5:23 regards man as a trichotomous being, would it not be worthwhile to investigate Paul’s accounts about the ‘mechanics of death’ and resurrection anew? Are there structural analogies with Philo’s and Plutarch’s concepts of anthropology? Could it be that, for Paul, the human πνεῦμα was the part of the human that represents the anthropological bridge of identity between the deceased and later resurrected person? In conducting such a comparison, we are not claiming that Paul was a Middle Platonist philosopher; most probably he did not know the writings of Philo; he is also two generations older than Plutarch. Therefore, a simple model of linear dependencies is no option, especially not on the level of semantics. Regarding the concept of the resurrection of the body, Paul holds a position that would not have been acceptable for Philo and Plutarch in the frame of their respective Middle Platonist system. Nevertheless, a comparison of the descriptions of postmortal processes according to these three authors could not only show the treatment of similar sets of problems and structural analogies with respect to thinking about the ‘mechanics of death’, such a comparison could also make the special characteristics of Paul’s answers on these questions and the particularities of his thoughts on this intersection of anthropology, theology and soteriology better ascertainable.

Bibliography Borgen, P. (ed.), “The Philo Concordance Database,” in Bible Works 9 (2007). Conroy, J., “Philo’s ‘Death of the Soul’: Is this only a Metaphor?” The Studia Philonica Annual 23 (2011) 23–40.

25

26

Cf. U. Schnelle, The Human Condition: Anthropology in the Teaching of Jesus, Paul, and John (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996) 104–105: “The trichotomous sounding phrase τὸ πνεῦμα καὶ ἡ ψυχὴ καὶ τὸ σῶμα reflects no Hellenistic anthropology according to which a person is divided into body, soul, and spirit. Paul is merely emphasizing that the sanctifying work of God concerns the whole person.” Van Kooten, Paul’s Anthropology, 294–295.

174

elschenbroich

Dillon, J., The Middle Platonists: 80B.C. to A.D.220 (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University, 1977, rev. ed. 1996). Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Der eine Gott bei Philon von Alexandrien und Plutarch,” in id. (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch: Götterbilder—Gottesbilder—Weltbilder (RVV 54, Berlin/York: De Gruyter, 2005) 141–168. Hirsch-Luipold, R., Plutarchs Denken in Bildern: Studien zur literarischen, philosophischen und religiösen Funktion des Bildhaften (STAC 14, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002). Inwood, B., “Chrysippos [2],” in H. Cancik & H. Schneider (eds.), Der Neue Pauly: Enzyklopädie der Antike, 16 vols. (Stuttgart/Weimar: Metzler, 1996–2003) 2.1177–1178. Kooten, G. van, Paul’s Anthropology in Context: The Image of God, Assimilation to God, and Tripartite Man in Ancient Judaism, Ancient Philosophy and Early Christianity (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008). Meiser, M., “Theologische Anmerkungen in alexandrinischer Homerphilologie und theologische Korrekturen in der Septuaginta,” in J. Elschenbroich & J. de Vries (eds.), Worte der Weissagung: Studien zu Septuaginta und Johannesoffenbarung (ABG; Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2014) 108–136. Norden, E., Die Geburt des Kindes: Geschichte einer religiösen Idee (Leipzig/Berlin: B.G. Teubner, 1924). Praechter, K., “Der mittlere Platonismus,” in K. Praechter (ed.), Die Philosophie des Altertums: Friedrich Ueberwegs Grundriß der Geschichte der Philosophie des Altertums 1 (Berlin: Ernst Sigfried Mittler, 1920, rev. 11th edition) 542–556. Runia, D.T., “Does Philo accept the doctrine of reincarnation?” http://torreys.org/philo​ _seminar_papers/ (13.3.2017). Runia, D.T., Philo in Early Christian Literature: A Survey (Assen: Royal Van Gorcum/Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1993). Schmidt, H., Die Anthropologie Philons von Alexandreia (Würzburg: K. Triltsch, 1933). Schnelle, U., The Human Condition: Anthropology in the Teaching of Jesus, Paul, and John (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996). Wasserman, E., The Death of the Soul in Romans 7 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008). Wolfson, H.A., Philo: Foundations of Religious Philosophy in Judaism, Christianity and Islam 1 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, 1947, rev. ed. 1968). Yli-Karjanmaa, S., Reincarnation in Philo of Alexandria (Atlanta: SBL, 2015). Yonge, Ch.D., The Works of Philo Judaeus: The Contemporary of Josephus, 4 vols. (London: Henry G. Bohn, 1854–1855). Zeller, D., “The Life and Death of the Soul in Philo of Alexandria: The Use and Origin of the Metaphor,” The Studia Philonica Annual 7 (1995) 19–55.

part 3 Plutarch, the New Testament and the Church Fathers

∵

chapter 9

The Logos in Amelius’ Fragment on the Gospel of John and Plutarch’s De Iside Ilinca Tanaseanu-Doebler

1

Introduction

Pagan Platonic engagement with Christian writings is mostly marked by hostility: Porphyry and the emperor Julian come to mind as the counter-exegetes of the biblical writings, especially those of the New Testament, which they generally perceive as low-quality fiction. Appreciative references to New Testament texts are few and scattered; the only more comprehensive treatment is the brief interpretation which Plotinus’ student Amelius gives to the prologue of John.1 Amelius’ fragment has been at the center of a number of scholarly articles which have connected it with what is known of Amelius’ philosophical worldview, with the logos concept of his teacher Plotinus, or with Gnostic ideas.2

1 On Amelius’ life and works see L. Brisson, “Amelius,” ANRW 2,36,2 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1987) 793–860 and I. Männlein-Robert, “Longinos und Amelios,” in Ch. Riedweg et al. (eds.), Die Philosophie der Antike, vol. 5/2: Philosophie der Kaiserzeit und der Spätantike (Basle: Schwabe, 2018) 1310–1321, for Amelius 1317–1321. The uniqueness of Amelius’ positive valuation of John has been duly noted by H. Dörrie, “Une exégèse néoplatonicienne du prologue de l’Evangile selon St. Jean [Amélius chez Eusèbe, prép. ev. 11, 19, 1–4],” in id., Platonica minora (Munich: Fink, 1976) 491–507 (493). 2 Dörrie, “Une exégèse néoplatonicienne;” Brisson, “Amelius,” esp. 840–843; L. Abramowski, “Nicänismus und Gnosis im Rom des Bischofs Liberius: Der Fall des Marius Victorinus,” ZAC 8 (2005) 513–566 (513–518); J. Halfwassen, Hegel und der spätantike Neuplatonismus: Untersuchungen zur Metaphysik des Einen und des Nous in Hegels spekulativer und geschichtlicher Deutung (Hamburg: Felix Meiner Verlag, 1999) 74–78; J. Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” in P. Vassilopoulou & S.R.L. Clark (eds.), Late Antique Epistemology: Other Ways to Truth (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009) 30–43; S. Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke von Evangelium zur Philosophie: Der Johannesprolog in der Relektüre des Platonikers Amelios,” in A. Dettwiler & U. Poplutz (eds.), Studien zu Matthäus und Johannes: Festschrift für Jean Zumstein zu seinem 65. Geburtstag (Zurich: Theologischer Verlag Zürich, 2009) 377–397; Th.M. Böhm, “Ptolemäische Gnosis bei Hegel? Anmerkungen zur Interpretation des Johannesprologs durch Amelius,” in F.R. Prostmeier & H.E. Lona (eds.), Logos der Vernunft—Logos des Glaubens (Berlin/New York: de Gruyter, 2010) 109–128 (engaging with Halfwassen, Hegel und der spätantike Neoplatonismus); M. Fattal, “Dal Logos di Plotino al Logos di san Giovanni: verso la soluzione di un problema metafisico?” in F. Carderi & M. Mantovani & G. Perillo

© Ilinca Tanaseanu-Doebler, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004505070_011

178

tanaseanu-doebler

Still, the manner in which Amelius endorses here the notion of logos as a cosmic principle of major momentum and the way in which he portrays its fate in the cosmos remain strikingly unusual.3 In the following paper, I will present a close reading of the fragment and then a comparison with the use of logos in some passages of Plutarch’s De Iside. This takes into account the long-recognized fact that Amelius cannot simply be reduced to his teacher Plotinus but presents a quite idiosyncratic form of Platonism which is firmly anchored in the tradition of Middle Platonic philosophers, especially Numenius.4 In his exegesis of Amelius’ fragment, Heinrich Dörrie has signaled the parallel between the approach to myth in De Iside and the approach of Amelius to John, seeing Plutarch’s treatment of myth as a model for Amelius who, in his view, interprets and corrects John.5 I will pursue this line further, focusing not so much on the relationship of myth and philosophy, but on the conceptions of the logos in the two texts. The final section highlights the points of contact and divergence between Plutarch’s and Amelius’ logoi and their mythical representations and sketches a background against which the possibility of Amelius’ positive approach to John may appear more comprehensible.

(eds.), Momenti del Logos (Rome: Edizioni Nuova Cultura, 2012) 71–123 (91–108). Fattal discusses Amelius’ fragment mostly on the lines of Dörrie, “Une exégèse néoplatonicienne,” and Brisson, “Amelius,” and uses it to argue for the incompatibility of the Neoplatonic and the Christian conceptions of logos. J.M. Calvo, “The Christ-Logos Question in Amelius,” Schole 12 (2018) 365–379, succintly presents the various interpretations focusing especially on Amelius’ metaphysical localisation of John’s logos. 3 Cf. Ch. Riedweg, “Aspects de la polémique philosophique contre les chrétiens dans les quatre premiers siècles,” in Annuaire de l’ École pratique des hautes études (EPHE), Section des sciences religieuses 123 (2016) 151–158 (154–155). As Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 378– 379 notes, in the Platonic tradition the logos is mostly a secondary notion: “Allerdings steht der Logos, soweit es seinen kosmologischen und metaphysischen Stellenwert betrifft, gerade in der platonischen Lehrtradition, die ab dem 2. Jh. n.Chr. die philosophische Entwicklung dominiert, eher im Schatten der gleichsam klassischen Hypostasen wie Geist und Seele.” For Plotinus’ notion of logos cf. also Fattal, “Dal Logos di Plotino,” 73–81. 4 The most comprehensive discussion of Amelius’ life and works still remains Brisson, “Amelius.” Noting Amelius’ peculiar views, Dillon (“St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 32) rightly, if poignantly, notes that Amelius was regarded “as something of a maverick from the perspective of the later Platonic tradition.” 5 Dörrie, “Une exégèse néoplatonicienne,” 497–498.

the logos in amelius’ fragment on the gospel of john

2

179

The Logos in Amelius

Amelius’ reading of John 1 is preserved by Eusebius in his Praeparatio evangelica in a section in which he intends to prove that the Christian theology of Father and Son, of First and Second Cause, corresponds to pagan philosophy, as represented by Plato, Plotinus or Numenius. Amelius is included after quotations from Numenius, who is presented as being not an innovator, but a faithful exegete of Plato.6 Plato himself was preceded by the Hebrew sages: ἀλλὰ γὰρ τοσαῦτα καὶ περὶ τοῦδε ὁ Νουμήνιος. ὅτι δὲ οὐκ οἰκεῖα, τὰ δὲ Πλάτωνι δοκοῦντα διεσάφει, οὐδὲν ἐπιλέγειν δεῖ ταῖς αὐτοῦ φωναῖς. ὁ δέ γε Πλάτων ὅτι μὴ πρῶτος ταῖσδε κέχρηται ταῖς ἐπιβολαῖς, φθάνουσι δ’ αὐτὸν προειληφότες Ἑβραίων οἱ σοφοί, δέδεικται διὰ τῶν ἐκτεθειμένων. εἰκότως δῆτα καὶ τῶν νέων φιλοσόφων διαφανὴς γεγονὼς Ἀμέλιος, τῆς Πλάτωνος καὶ αὐτὸς εἰ καί τις ἄλλος ζηλωτὴς φιλοσοφίας, πλὴν ἀλλὰ βάρβαρον ὀνομάσας τὸν Ἑβραῖον θεολόγον, εἰ καὶ μὴ ἐπ’ ὀνόματος ἠξίωσε τοῦ εὐαγγελιστοῦ Ἰωάννου μνήμην ποιήσασθαι, ἐπιμαρτυρεῖ δ’ οὖν ὅμως ταῖς αὐτοῦ φωναῖς, αὐτὰ δὴ ταῦτα πρὸς ῥῆμα γράφων· Yet thus far Numenius on this subject. We do not need to add anything to his own words to show that he did not expound his private opinion but rather the opinion of Plato. As for Plato, the exposition has demonstrated that he was not the first to pursue these intellectual paths but that the Hebrew sages had already done so before him. It is therefore with good reason that Amelius too, an outstanding representative of the modern philosophers, a fervent follower of Plato’s philosophy if ever there was one, albeit calling the Hebrew theologian a Barbarian, even if he did not choose to mention John the Evangelist by name, nevertheless confirms his words, writing verbatim as follows.7 Amelius’ presentation as an important representative of the current philosophical generation and as a fervent adept of Plato correlates with his importance in the circle of Plotinus, even if his doctrinal prominence was later eclipsed in the Neoplatonic tradition by the overwhelming presence of his fellow student and rival Porphyry.8 Eusebius knows Porphyry as the archenemy of the Christians

6 For the context see e.g. Dörrie, “Une exégèse néoplatonicienne,” 492; for its implications Brisson, “Amelius,” 802: Eusebius might have got his knowledge of Numenius from a work of Amelius. He is followed on this point by Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 380. 7 Eus., PE 11.18.25–26. Translation here and elsewhere are my own, unless otherwise specified. 8 Procl., Theol. plat. 1.1.6 Saffrey/Westerink mentions Amelius as part of the philosophical suc-

180

tanaseanu-doebler

and exploits his oeuvre copiously in the Praeparatio and Demonstratio evangelica. Amelius, in contrast, is mentioned here only as a Christian-friendly author who is said to corroborate the truth of John 1. The lavish praise of Amelius as the renowned modern philosopher and truly ardent follower of Plato might be read as a slight against Porphyry, Amelius’ old colleague and rival. Whether Amelius’ fragment should be read as denoting his basic assent to what John says9 or as a mere statement of John’s position with which Amelius does not necessarily agree,10 must ultimately remain open given the lack of context. But both Eusebius’ introduction with its ἐπιμαρτυρεῖ (“confirms”, “bears witness to”) and the correspondence between Heraclitus and John stated by Amelius in the fragment itself point strongly in the first direction. As Dörrie has remarked, not only does ἐπιμαρτυρεῖ imply that Eusebius perceives Amelius to confirm John, but Eusebius further underscores his reading of Amelius as endorsing John by the expression γυμνῇ τῇ κεφαλῇ (“with uncovered head”), which Dörrie reads as a plausible allusion to Plato’s Phaedrus: Socrates covers his head when he does not agree with the proffered opinions and uncovers it when he expounds his own position.11 Eusebius then introduces what Samuel Vollenweider has felicitously called Amelius’ “Relektüre” of John’s prologue:12 Καὶ οὗτος ἄρα ἦν ὁ λόγος καθ’ ὃν αἰεὶ ὄντα τὰ γινόμενα ἐγίνετο, ὡς ἂν καὶ ὁ Ἡράκλειτος ἀξιώσειε καὶ νὴ Δί’ ὃν ὁ βάρβαρος ἀξιοῖ ἐν τῇ τῆς ἀρχῆς τάξει τε καὶ ἀξίᾳ καθεστηκότα πρὸς θεὸν εἶναι καὶ θεὸν εἶναι· δι’ οὗ πάνθ’ ἁπλῶς γεγενῆσθαι· ἐν ᾧ τὸ γενόμενον ζῶν καὶ ζωὴν καὶ ὂν πεφυκέναι· καὶ εἰς τὰ σώματα πίπτειν καὶ σάρκα ἐνδυσάμενον φαντάζεσθαι ἄνθρωπον μετὰ τοῦ καὶ τηνικαῦτα δεικνύειν τῆς φύσεως τὸ μεγαλεῖον· ἀμέλει καὶ ἀναλυθέντα πάλιν ἀποθεοῦσθαι καὶ θεὸν εἶναι, οἷος ἦν πρὸ τοῦ εἰς τὸ σῶμα καὶ τὴν σάρκα καὶ τὸν ἄνθρωπον καταχθῆναι.

9 10 11 12

cession; otherwise he does not appear in succession lists (neither in Hierocles’ De providentia nor in Eunapius’ Vitae sophistarum), although his positions are regularly noted in Neoplatonic doxographies (e.g., Iamb., De an. fr. 5.10.17.19.25.26 Finamore/Dillon; Syrian., In Arist. Metaph. 88.109.119.147 Kroll (CAG 6.1); Procl., In Ti. 1.306.309.336.361.398; 2.277; 3.34 Diehl; In remp. 1.24 or 2.30–34 Kroll). J.M. Rist, “St. John and Amelius,” JThS 20 (1969) 230–231 (230); Brisson, “Amelius,” 841; Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 382–383. Böhm, “Ptolemäische Gnosis bei Hegel?,” 116. Eus., PE 11.19.2; Dörrie, “Une exégèse néoplatonicienne,” 492–493. See the subtitle of Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” or ibid. 383. The following quotation is Eus., PE 11.19.1.

the logos in amelius’ fragment on the gospel of john

181

And this was therefore the logos which exists eternally and according to which what is generated was generated, as Heraclitus, too, would most probably say, and, by Jove,13 which the Barbarian holds to be firmly established in the order and rank of the principle and to be therefore directed towards God and be God. He holds that simply everything came into being through it; that in it what had been generated grew to be alive and life and being; and that it fell into the bodies and that after it had donned flesh it appeared as a man, together with a display of the greatness of [its] nature even under these circumstances. And, of course, that it then was set free/dissolved and became divine again and was a god, the way it was before it was borne down into the body and the flesh and the man. Eusebius does not give us the context of the quotation which he marks as such by his introduction (quoted above, p. 179).14 Given the engagement with a Christian text which played an important part in Gnostic speculation, and given that Porphyry notes that Plotinus assigned to Amelius the task of refuting the “book by Zostrianos,”15 scholars have tentatively placed the fragment within Amelius’ forty-book refutation.16 This may be the case, although the text itself does not give us any clues. The combination of Heraclitus and John need not be prompted by Gnosticism but could simply be read as typical of the Orientalizing brand of Platonism favored and practiced by Numenius, whom Amelius knew and admired.17 Amelius inscribes the logos at the beginning of the fragment into the wellknown Platonic binary opposition between Being and Generation, understanding it as the eternally existent rationale and archetype to which generation conforms. In a Platonic view, this places the logos basically at the level of Being and 13

14 15 16 17

Dörrie, “Une exégèse néoplatonicienne,” 495n12 remarks that “[i]l est extrêmement rare qu’ un texte philosophique soit interrompu par une exclamation de ce genre … Les rares exceptions que je connaisse servent chacune à marquer un point de culmination. Ce qui est vrai évidemment pour notre passage.” Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 381. Porph., Plot. 16: Ἀμέλιος δὲ ἄχρι τεσσαράκοντα βιβλίων προκεχώρηκε πρὸς τὸ Ζωστριανοῦ βιβλίον ἀντιγράφων. Brisson, “Amelius,” 824 and 842 (tentatively); Männlein-Robert, “Longinos und Amelios,” 1319. In this direction goes Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 380; see his critique of placing the fragment in the refutation of the Zostrianos ibid. 392–393, building on the reticence of Abramowski, “Nicänismus und Gnosis,” 514 and 517. Böhm, “Ptolemäische Gnosis bei Hegel?,” 118–120 also criticises this contextualisation, but because he sees Ptolemaic Gnosticism, and not the Zostrianos, behind the fragment. For Amelius and Numenius see Brisson, “Amelius,” 801–802.

182

tanaseanu-doebler

Ideas. Heraclitus and John are presented as testimonies for a notion of the logos whose exposition must have preceded the fragment:18 Heraclitus is ascribed in the potential mode19 a comparable conception as that which the “Barbarian” is said to expound.20 John 1:1 is partly quoted, partly elaborated. While the logos’ being “directed towards God” and being itself “God” is maintained, the ἐν ἀρχῇ (“in the beginning”) of John is rewritten in a Platonic key and interpreted not as a temporal beginning but as a rank in the cosmic hierarchy—the logos holds the position of principle.21 John 1:3 is condensed with an accentuation: “simply everything” came into being through it. John 1:3–4 is paraphrased to emphasize that what was generated through the logos—that is, everything—was by nature alive, life and being.22 A reader with a Platonic background might associate here the triad of Being, Life and Intellect which, by the time of Plotinus and Amelius, was current and denoted the rank of perfect being equated with perfect intellect below the first transcendent principle, the One.23 The phrase “alive and life and being” might be understood as a conscious connection drawn by Amelius towards these triadic patterns24—which would assign the Johannine logos implicitly a quite high position in the hierarchy of eternal being— that is, at the level of intellect, below the One. As Abramowski notes, the context of the passage in Eusebius also points to this localization of the logos, as Eusebius focuses on the second cause in the section in question.25 This is one of

18 19 20 21

22

23

24 25

Dörrie, “Une exégèse néoplatonicienne,” 494; followed e.g. by Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 381. Rightly noted by Dörrie, “Une exégèse néoplatonicienne,” 495. Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 382. Cf. Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 382; Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 34; Böhm, “Ptolemäische Gnosis bei Hegel?,” 117. The understanding of ἀρχή as principle is found in Christian texts of diverse backgrounds. Böhm, ibid. 119–120 points to Valentinian (Ptolemaic) approaches to John’s prologue as outlined by Irenaeus; cf. also Clem. Alex., Exc. Theodt. 6.1–3 for a comparable exegesis equating the ἀρχή with the aeon Monogenes. Origen reads the ἀρχή as encompassing the logos and identifies it exclusively with Wisdom (In Joh. 1.19.109–111, 1.19.118). Cf. Dörrie, “Une exégèse néoplatonicienne,” 496, who takes this emphasis to underscore the characteristic of the world soul, equated with the logos: it enables the realm of generation to have a part in eternal Being; correspondingly, he emphasises the climactic character of the three terms. E.g. Plot., Enn. 5.6.6; cf. the influential paper by P. Hadot, “Être, Vie, Pensée chez Plotin et avant Plotin,” in Les sources de Plotin 5: Entretiens sur l’Antiquité classique (Vandoeuvres/Geneva: Fondation Hardt, 1957) 107–141, discussion 142–157. Cf. Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 34. For an ingenious and not implausible, though, as he himself avers, speculative interpretation of the triad in Amelius see Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 34–35. Abramowski, “Nicänismus und Gnosis,” 515–516.

the logos in amelius’ fragment on the gospel of john

183

the two options encountered in scholarship for fitting the logos of this fragment into what we know of Amelius’ metaphysical scheme. As can be gathered from Proclus’ doxographies in his commentary on the Timaeus, Amelius assumed a triad of demiurgic intellects below the One, which he identified with the three kings of the ps.-Platonic Second Letter, and the members of which he considered to engage with matter in varying degrees.26 Although this option fits the context in Eusebius and the emphasis on Being and the triadic pattern connecting Life with Being, we face the problem that none of the extant testimonies envisages a descent of the demiurges into the material world that would fit the drastic description of the fragment. The second option advocated in research is the identification of the fragment’s logos with the world soul, going back to Heinrich Dörrie; Luc Brisson even uses the fragment to elucidate Amelius’ views of the soul.27 This would better fit the idea that the logos descends as far down as the material world. It would also agree with the sequel, which takes up John 1:14a: the eternally existent logos and source of life and being “falls” into the bodies and dons flesh. The Platonic accent is clear: “becoming flesh” cannot be but a fall.28 Πίπτειν εἰς 26

27

28

The testimonies for Amelius’ doctrine of the three demiurges or intellects are collected and analysed in Brisson, “Amelius,” 811–812; 831–833; 847–849. Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 388–390 places Amelius’ Johannine logos at the level of his triadic demiurge, as “eine Emanation des demiurgisch tätigen Nūs, genauer seine zweite oder dritte Manifestation;” however, he notes that “[d]ie allegorische Auslegung erlaubt es ihm aber, den Logos in beide Richtungen, nach oben und nach unten, auszudehnen.” In this reading, the logos covers the whole metaphysical ground between the One, who would be the θεός (“God”) of πρὸς τὸν θεόν (“towards God”), and matter. A similar suggestion is found in Calvo, “The Christ-Logos,” 375–377, who proposes to identify Christ with the second intellect or demiurge. Böhm, “Ptolemäische Gnosis bei Hegel?,” 117 perceives the demiurgic quality of the logos: “Der Logos des Johannesprologs wäre dann für Amelius ein Demiurg, der aufgrund seiner Gutheit alles entstehen lässt.” However, he connects the demiurgic function of the logos as the source of multiplicity with the world soul, without equating the two (118 and 123). Dillon points to this doctrine as the background for Amelius (“St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 32–33) and interprets the logos as “an emanation from the demiurgic Intellect,” distinct from the world soul (40n8). Dörrie, “Une exégèse néoplatonicienne,” 492 and 495–496; he realizes that the logos is placed at the level of Being, but he nevertheless understands it as the World Soul as the cause of the world, directed towards a higher divinity, and representing the cause of life. The same identification is found in Brisson, “Amelius,” 841, who builds on Dörrie, as well as Fattal, “Dal Logos di Plotino,” 99–108, who builds on Brisson. Brisson, loc. cit., 836–837 points to the fact that already Plotinus links soul and logos to a certain extent, which additionally supports the identification. Dörrie and Brisson are criticised by Abramowski, “Nicänismus und Gnosis,” 515–516. The equation with the Platonic World Soul is also assumed by Männlein-Robert, “Longinos und Amelios,” 1320. Abramowski, “Nicänismus und Gnosis,” 517 rightly notes the “pejorative Note.” Vollen-

184

tanaseanu-doebler

σῶμα(τα) (“falling into bodies”) is a phrase applied to the soul’s descent in Plato’s Phaedo and Platonic philosophers of the third and early fourth century, such as Plotinus, Porphyry or Iamblichus.29 The cosmic “fall” (πίπτειν) of Amelius’ logos recalls the phrasing of Proclus’ report about Amelius’ exegesis of Resp. 546a:30 Amelius is said to have linked the account given there about procreation in the ideal state with its cryptic numeric data (the so-called “nuptial number”) to the descents of the soul. The soul, which Amelius conceives, as Iamblichus tells us, as substantially and numerically one and differentiated only, so to speak, at a superficial level, through dispositions and relationships,31 undergoes a fall and return to itself which Amelius likens to the drawing of a right-angled triangle: τὴν γὰρ ψυχὴν ἄνω μένουσαν εἶναι πάντα μοναδικῶς καὶ κυκλικῶς, ὡς μὲν λόγων ἔχουσαν πλῆθος μοναδικῶς, ὡς δὲ συνεχῆ καὶ ἡνωμένην καὶ ὡς ἐπεστραμμένην πρὸς ἑαυτὴν κυκλικῶς· κατιοῦσαν δὲ γεννᾶν ἀριθμὸν καὶ τρίγωνον, καὶ ὡς μὲν ῥυϊσκομένην ὡς ἀπὸ μονάδος ἑαυτῆς τὸν πρῶτον ἀριθμὸν ἀποτελεῖν τὸν τρία (ἐν γὰρ αὐτῇ τῇ ῥύσει ἡ δυάς), ὡς δὲ θέσιν λαμβάνουσαν τὴν κάθετον ποιεῖν, πίπτειν δὲ εἰς τὴν ἀπλανῆ, καὶ ταύτης εἰς λοξὸν τὸν ζῳοφόρον (ἀρχὴ γὰρ γενέσεως)· κάθετον δὲ τριαδικῶς ποιήσασαν διοδεύειν τὸ πλάτος, ἐν ᾧ πέπτωκεν, οἷον πλαγίως κινηθεῖσαν καὶ ποιεῖν τὴν λοιπὴν τῶν περὶ τὴν ὀρθὴν τετραδικῶς· ποθοῦσαν δὲ τὸ ἐντὸς αὐτῆς ὡς ἂν οὐκ ἀποστᾶσαν ἑαυτῆς ἐπιστρέφουσαν πάλιν εἰς τὴν ἀρχὴν τῆς καθέτου ποιεῖν τὴν ὑποτείνουσαν.

29

30 31

weider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 390–391 reads the πίπτειν on account of his interpretation of Plotinian logos descents in a neutral way and interprets it from the positive aim of the descent, namely revealing the greatness of the logos’ nature. Pl., Phd. 83d (clearly negative), Plot., Enn. 4.3.4 (about the individual soul, which does not fall completely into the body). Even closer to Amelius’ fragment Porph., sent. 29 about the soul’s descent and the assumption of bodies corresponding to the degree of descent (which is seen as a degradation); here the soul fallen into bodies (πεσούσῃ δὲ εἰς σώματα) corresponds to the lowest possible level. The same connotation in Iambl., protr. 69 and De comm. math. sc. 33. Cf. also Or., Cels. 4.92 (daimones falling down from heaven into heavier bodies). The passage is mentioned in the context of Amelius’ approach to John’s logos by Fattal, “Dal Logos di Plotino” without closer discussion. Iambl., De an. fr. 19 and 25 Finamore/Dillon; the text is given below, p. 188. For the numerically one soul, see also Brisson, “Amelius,” 843, followed by Fattal, “Dal Logos di Plotino,” 105–106, who links it with Amelius’ fragment on John; along the lines of Dörrie and Brisson, Fattal uses the references to Amelius’ doctrine of the soul in Iamblichus’ De anima and Proclus’ commentary on the Republic to emphasise the gulf separating Amelius from the Christian idea of the incarnated logos (ibid. 105–108).

the logos in amelius’ fragment on the gospel of john

185

For the soul, when it remains above, is everything in a monadic and cyclical manner: in a monadic manner, because it contains the plurality of logoi; in a cyclical manner, as it is continuous and unified and perpetually reverted towards itself. When it descends, it gives birth to number and the triangle. And insofar as it flows off out of itself as of a monad, it perfects the first number, the three, for the dyad is located in the flowing itself; insofar as it takes on a local position, it produces the cathetus, but it falls into the sphere of fixed stars, and from that into the zodiac, for this is the beginning of generation. After it has produced the cathetus in a triadic manner, it travels through the plane to which it has fallen, as if being moved horizontally, and it produces the other leg of the right angle in a tetradic fashion. But desiring what is inside itself, as if it had never departed from itself, it returns again to the beginning of the cathetus and produces the hypotenuse.32 The “fall” of the soul appears here on the one hand as a downward movement, but on the other as a necessary cosmic process which is embedded in the paradox of the (numerically one) soul established eternally at a superior level in itself and at the same time unfolding towards becoming. A result of this dynamic conception of soul is that the negative connotations of its “fall” are noticeably lessened; given the common idea of a cycle of descent to the bodies and reascent in this passage about the soul and in the fragment about John’s logos, a comparable reduction of negativity can be also assumed for the “fall” of the logos. Returning to Amelius’ account of John, we notice that the “fall” into bodies, John’s incarnation, is given what may appear to be a Docetic twist: the fallen logos “appears as a human being”.33 As Dillon correctly remarks, φαντάζεσθαι emphasizes perception of something appearing, but need not imply its irreal32

33

Proclus, In remp. 2.31–32 Kroll. For a detailed discussion of the text and its philosophical context, albeit without application to the interpretation of the fragment on John, see Brisson, “Amelius,” 843–847. I will only point here to one work to highlight Amelius’ background: in his De antro nympharum, Porphyry, Amelius’ colleague, recounts the theory of Numenius and Cronius according to which the souls descend into being through the constellation of Cancer, which is a point of intersection of the zodiac (fixed stars) with the Milky Way. For the account, see De antro 21–28; the ascription to Numenius and Cronius is found ibid. 21. Rist, “St. John and Amelius”; Brisson, “Amelius,” 842; Abramowski, “Nicänismus und Gnosis,” 517; Fattal, “Dal Logos di Plotino,” 104. Riedweg, “Aspects,” 155 also inclines towards this reading. Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 392–393 pleads against the use of the term “Docetism,” emphasising the fluid nature of Platonic language for divine descent and manifestation, and preferring to include the incarnation which Amelius alludes to as a

186

tanaseanu-doebler

ity;34 and the incarnation is not totally eschewed. Amelius mentions “falling” into bodies and the “donning” of the flesh,35 and notes at the end of the passage that the logos was “borne downwards into the body, the flesh, and the man.” The fall of the logos is taken as an additional stage for a display of “the greatness of nature”—given that the logos is the agent and that nature does not appear as an actor in the passage, what is meant must be the nature of the logos.36 This may be read, with Eusebius, Abramowski, Dillon, and Vollenweider, as a reverse perspective paraphrase of John 1:14c (Καὶ ἐθεασάμεθα τὴν δόξαν αὐτοῦ, “And we beheld his glory”).37 And we could go one step further: beyond John 1:14c, the self-manifestation and revelation of the logos incarnate and thus the revelation of the unknowable God and Father through his logos and Son form a fundamental recurrent motif of the Fourth Gospel, which plays with a complicated web of metaphors from the field of seeing, knowing, light versus darkness, knowing versus believing. We might expect Amelius, who seems to have at least a rough idea of the ending of the story,38 to have perceived this red thread if he read John.39

34 35

36

37 38

39

“flüchtige Episode” (393) in the broad spectrum of divine epiphany, to which Docetism as a Christian terminus technicus should not be applied. Böhm, “Ptolemäische Gnosis bei Hegel?,” 118 also rejects the term. It should be noted that “Docetism” has become the object of critique and deconstruction in current scholarship (see J. Verheyden et al. [eds.], Docetism in the Early Church: The Quest for an Elusive Phenomenon [Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2018]). Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 36. On these two cf. Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 390–391, although his neutral reading may gloss over the “fall” too readily; Böhm, “Ptolemäische Gnosis bei Hegel?,” 118. With Abramowski, “Nicänismus und Gnosis,” 517 and Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 36 (who also considers the possibility that Nature as such may be meant [42n24]); Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 382n25 opts for the interpretation of nature here as the divine world. To the dossier of Vollenweider and Dillon one should add also a passage from Plotinus’ Enn. 2.9.8 against the Gnostics, in which he underlines that “one could not possibly rightly criticise the government of the universe, firstly, because it indicates the greatness of the intelligible nature” (οὐδὲ τοῦ παντὸς τὴν διοίκησιν ὀρθῶς ἄν τις μέμψαιτο πρῶτον μὲν ἐνδεικνυμένην τῆς νοητῆς φύσεως τὸ μέγεθος). The passage is temptingly close to Amelius, but it also shows what is lacking for understanding nature as the divine world in our passage: a clear specification what nature is meant, such as Plotinus gives. Eus., PE 11.19.3–4; Abramowski, “Nicänismus und Gnosis,” 517; Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 36; Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 382. Abramowski, “Nicänismus und Gnosis,” 518 rightly notes that the last sentence goes beyond the prologue; she assumes that it rests on “Informationen über die christliche Lehre … die sich Amelius beschafft hat.” The easiest assumption would be that he read on. Cf. also Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 36. Insofar I follow Abramowski’s (“Nicänismus und Gnosis,” 517) criticism of Dörrie, who in

the logos in amelius’ fragment on the gospel of john

187

Although the descent is presented as a “fall”,40 its effect is thus sketched in a positive light, comparable to the account about the descent of the soul. Here, Amelius leaves the text of John 1 and reverts to the ascent of the fallen logos: it is “liberated” or “dissolved” (ἀναλυθέντα)41 and it becomes divine again, a god, as it was before it touched the corporeal and human sphere. Although Amelius certainly does not engage in an in-depth discussion or reception of Johannine Christology and certainly does not choose to endorse its soteriology, the trajectory of this dynamic is not totally alien to John, who also sketches for the logos a descent from the Father into the world and a return to the Father.42 The same cyclical trajectory of descent and ascent is applied elsewhere, as we have seen, by Amelius to the soul which “falls” into becoming and reverts to itself. Another report about Amelius’ views on the soul presents a comparable dialectic, using also the term ἀναλύειν (“to set free”), which in our fragment is applied to the logos: Οἱ μὲν δὴ μίαν οὐσίαν τῆς ψυχῆς ἀριθμῷ τιθέμενοι, πληθύοντες δὲ αὐτήν, ὡς Ἀμέλιος οἴεται, σχέσεσι καὶ κατατάξεσιν, ἤ, ὡς οἱ Ὀρφικοὶ λέγουσιν, ἐπιπνοίαις ἀπὸ τῆς ὅλης, ἔπειτα ἀνασχόντες ἀπὸ τοῦ λήθους τῆς ὅλης ἐπὶ τὴν μίαν ψυχὴν ἀποθεμένην τὰς σχέσεις καὶ τὰς εἰς ἕτερον κατατάξεις καὶ ἀναλύοντες ἀπὸ τῆς εἰς τὰ μεταλαβόντα διαιρέσεως, ἀπολυομένης τῆς τῶν μετασχόντων ἀποδιαλή-

40

41

42

his interpretation of Amelius’ understanding of John as a myth not relating to Jesus as a concrete person, asserts that the revelatory reason Amelius gives for the descent in his rewriting (showing the greatness of its nature) is unparalleled by anything in John’s Gospel and is the typical Platonic addition of Amelius, marking the boundary between Christianity and Platonism (“Une exégèse néoplatonicienne,” 498). Cf. Rist, “St. John and Amelius,” 230; Abramowski, “Nicänismus und Gnosis,” 517. Böhm’s interpretation that “[m]it dem Fall in die Körperwelt und dem Aufstieg ist jedoch eindeutig auf ein gnostisches Schema angespielt” (“Ptolemäische Gnosis bei Hegel?,” 118) which he finds again in Plotinus’ account of the Gnostic fall of Sophia in Enn. 2.9 and which he traces back to Ptolemaic Gnosticism (118–121) is overly one-sided, given the long tradition of the motif of the fallen soul which can boast of as illustrious an ancestor as Plato’s Phaedrus. Additionally, in the Ptolemaic system as represented in Irenaeus (which Böhm cites witout further discussion and problematization), a fall of the logos would be strange; the fall is attributed to Sophia, and the two are clearly different entities. These two possibilities are pondered by Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 383n27— the liberation from the corporeal world or the dissolution of the human-logos compound. Rist, “St. John and Amelius,” 230 has the first option (the logos is released); the same in Böhm, “Ptolemäische Gnosis bei Hegel?,” 118. Cf. John 16:28.29 or John 17:5. Cf. also Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 36 who points to John 20:17.

188

tanaseanu-doebler

ψεως, τηροῦσιν αὐτὴν ὅλην πανταχοῦ τὴν αὐτήν, μίαν οὐσίαν τε αὐτῇ διδόασι καθ’ ἓν πεπερασμένην. Those who posit a numerically unique substance of the soul and multiply it only, as Amelius thinks, by means of relationships and dispositions, or, as the Orphics say, by means of inspirations stemming from the universal soul, and then raise it up from the oblivion of the universal soul towards the [status of the] one and only soul which has put aside the relationships and the dispositions directed towards something else and who set it free (ἀναλύοντες) from the differentiation into the things that participate in it, as the division of the things that participate in it is dissolved, keep the soul everywhere one and the same and assign it a unique substance delimited as one.43 Although the text does not use the term logos, the dynamic which Amelius assigns to the soul, according to Iamblichus’ report, is comparable to that assigned to the logos in the fragment given by Eusebius: Iamblichus speaks of Amelius and the Orphics as positing one soul, which somehow reaches a status of oblivion and division at the level of things that participate in it, and as “setting free” the soul as it somehow overcomes its relationship to the divided participating entities and thereby regains its original substance and true status. Should Iamblichus here echo Amelius’ terminology, the liberation of the soul and the logos would be described not only as a similar movement of descent and ascent, but also with the same term. Overall, Amelius’ account of the logos displays a notable proximity to the way he presents the soul and its movements in the cosmos; therefore, the option of placing the logos at the level of the soul appears to be the more probable one. Unlike the reports of Iamblichus and Proclus about Amelius’ theories of the soul, however, the fragment on the Johannine logos has another emphasis: the descent of the logos is not about participation and generation. Rather, as Vollenweider has noted, the Johannine prologue and, as I would add, indeed the whole Gospel is re-read and condensed here in terms of manifestation and epiphany: the logos manifests the greatness of its nature and then returns to its original divine status after having accomplished its mission.44 In this sense, the focus shifts towards a historical one-time event of “displaying the

43 44

Iambl., De an. fr. 25 Finamore/Dillon. See the discussion by Brisson and Fattal mentioned in n. 31. Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 392–393.

the logos in amelius’ fragment on the gospel of john

189

human form” and “showing the greatness of its nature”, rather than the eternal retracing of the right-angled triangle in the dynamic of procession and reversion. These observations go against interpretations which read Amelius’ account as a blatant Platonic correction of John’s misunderstanding. The main proponent of such a view is Dörrie, in whose view the supposed individual and contingent incarnation of the logos is for Amelius an aberrant, barbaric idea smacking of euhemerism which needs correction by philosophy along the lines of Plutarch’s recommendations in De Iside. The fall into bodies or descent would then simply represent the cyclical dynamic of the world soul/logos between the God who is its origin and the world of matter, between proodos and epistrophe.45 However, as noted above, Amelius’ wording does not show any inclination to set the “Barbarian” right. The fall and ascent are presented without any marking of disruption or opposition in the same syntactic flow of indirect speech infinitives—there is no breach between a first and a second part of the account, which stands entirely as the rendering of Amelius’ testimony, namely John. As Dillon remarks: “it is notable that Amelius goes along with John in presenting this [sc. the cosmic movement of the logos] as an historical cycle of ascent and descent.”46 He also notes that Amelius seems to be simply “sidestepping the issue of the incarnation of the Logos in the body of Jesus altogether.”47 Nevertheless, Dillon endorses a mythical reading along the lines of Dörrie, purely from the a priori assumption that serious consideration of an individual embodiment of the logos is simply out of the question from a Platonic perspective. In his account of the incarnation, “Amelius can take John to mean that the Logos manifests itself as generic Man (this being the most exalted of its manifestations), without any suggestion that it became uniquely instantiated in any particular human form, such as that of Jesus.”48 All these interpretations basically depart from an a priori assumed incompatibility of the historical Christian incarnation and Platonic theology. They also assume that Amelius engages the story of John on a philosophical level

45

46 47 48

Dörrie, “Une exégèse néoplatonicienne,” 497–500. In his view, especially the ἀμέλει is inserted to show that what John recounts is nothing special: “Par son ἀμέλει notre auteur réalise une an-historisation totale” (499). See also Brisson, “Amelius,” 843 and the pertinent criticism by Abramowski, “Nicänismus und Gnosis,” 518. Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 36. Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 42n23. Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 36; cf. also 37.

190

tanaseanu-doebler

and rewrites it to fit a Platonic frame of thought. However, while Amelius quite obviously rephrases his Vorlage, it is also interesting to note how he does so and what he does not rephrase. I have mentioned Dillon’s passing comment that Amelius remarkably presents the story of Jesus as it is in John, as a historical occurrence, taking up his individual protagonist. Amelius retells a story about the logos which “falls into the bodies, dons flesh and presents the appearance of a human being”. It “is borne down” into “body, flesh and man”, where it reveals the “greatness of its nature” and is then released and becomes god again as he was before. The verb used, ἀποθεοῦσθαι, can be found in various texts about how humans or heroes became or came to be considered divine, in stories told, for example, about Heracles.49 Whereas “body, flesh and man” at the end may be taken to refer to generic categories and would fit a generic cosmic allegorization of the Gospel, the φαντάζεσθαι ἄνθρωπον (“appearing as a human being”) does not fit into a general ahistorical cosmic picture. Therefore, it is easier to assume here that Amelius recounts a specific story told by the Barbarian about a certain individual figure—which would be that of Jesus.50 The φαντάζεσθαι ἄνθρωπον (“appearing as a human being”) and the demonstration of the “greatness of the nature” are closely connected by μετὰ with the genitive: the logos appears as a human being and also as such demonstrates the greatness of its nature. This would be read most easily as a demonstration of the great nature of the logos despite its appearance as a mere human—which would certainly fit the “signs” (σημεῖα) of the Johannine Jesus.51 The juncture τῆς φύσεως τὸ μεγαλεῖον (“the greatness of [his/its] nature”) is remarkable.52 Although μεγαλεῖον sporadically appears in classical and Hellenistic authors such as Xenophon or Menander, it stands there mostly on its own, or connected with an indefinite pronoun—τι μεγαλεῖον. The largest concentrations occur in

49

50

51 52

E.g. D.S. 4.39.2 and 4.57.1 (Heracles); Clem.Al., Strom. 1.21.105 (Dionysus, Heracles, Asclepius, the Dioscuri cf. Eus., PE 12.17.19). Or., Homilies in Jeremiah 5.3 (Heracles and Asclepius). The passages often have an euhemeristic touch. Dörrie can only assert that “il est douteux qu’Amélius parle du Christ en personne” because he has basically already decided on his reading of the fragment as the explanation of a myth which concerns every human being. (“Une exégèse néoplatonicienne,” 498); he supports his view with the fact that the descent appears to be in accordance with the course of nature and with the statement that the logos reveals the greatness of nature, which he considers not to be compatible with John’s Gospel. Cf. John 2:11 for the connection of revelation of the glory and semeion. Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 36 points briefly to occurences in Polybius and the LXX and concludes that in the “nominal form it appears to be hellenistic.” Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” points additionally to Damascius and Clement of Alexandria (382n25).

the logos in amelius’ fragment on the gospel of john

191

the Septuagint and the Jewish-Christian tradition. There also, the μεγαλεῖον or its plural appear in fixed junctures, mostly τὰ μεγαλεῖα τοῦ θεοῦ (“the great deeds of God”) or those of Christ. The juncture τὸ μεγαλεῖον τῆς φύσεως (“the greatness of [his/its] nature”) appears in Josephus and Philo, for Isaac, Abraham and Solomon, respectively; in the fourth century, it then appears in Christian theologians, e.g. in texts engaged in the Trinitarian and Christological controversies.53 No Middle Platonic occurrences seem to be attested; pagan usage of the noun is rather infrequent in Imperial times and Late Antiquity.54 This renders Amelius’ choice of terms striking. The easiest explanation would be to assume that Amelius could have taken his formulation from a source stemming from the Christian tradition. Given the presence of Christian “heretics”, as Porphyry qualifies them, in the circle of Plotinus,55 such sources were certainly accessible to Amelius.56 If so, we would have Amelius engaged in reading not only John but also Christian texts on John. In this light, the interpretation of Samuel Vollenweider represents a step forward, accepting the basically mythical interpretation of Amelius’ reading of John but drawing attention to the fact that an individual incarnation might be accommodated to this wider picture if regarded from the generic perspective of epiphany; he employs the Neoplatonic idea of descents of pure souls as manifestations of the divine in this world to connect Jesus with the logos as a possible historical manifestation.57 As Georgia Petridou points out in her comprehensive study of epiphany, the category is remarkably broad and underdetermined, ranging from tangible corporeal apparitions to phasmata, dreams or aniconic 53 54 55

56 57

Ph., Quod Det. 29 (Isaac), De virt. 217 (Abraham); J., AJ 8.49 (Solomon); Greg. Nyss., Contr. Eun. 2.1.596 or 3.1.137. Results from a TLG search (23.11.2016 and 11.12.2019). Porph., Plot. 16: Γεγόνασι δὲ κατ’ αὐτὸν τῶν Χριστιανῶν πολλοὶ μὲν καὶ ἄλλοι, αἱρετικοὶ δὲ ἐκ τῆς παλαιᾶς φιλοσοφίας ἀνηγμένοι […] (“In his time, there were, from among the Christians, many others and also heretics tracing themselves back to the ancient philosophy […]”). Porphyry goes on to underscore the multitude of writings which the heretics boast. As M. Tardieu, “Les gnostiques dans la Vie de Plotin: Analyse du chapitre 16,” in L. Brisson et al. (eds.), Porphyre: La Vie de Plotin, vol. 2 (Paris: Vrin, 1992) 503–546 (509–523) points out, Porphyry here takes over and employs the current Christian heresiological model of Gnosticism. That these Gnostics were not mere contemporaries but an actual presence in the network of Plotinus emerges from Enn. 2.9.10; see Tardieu, loc. cit. 519–520 and 523 for the link between the two texts. Cf. Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 32. Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 388–396. How Christians also drew upon the theme and repertoire of epiphany to articulate their Christologies is explored by S. Vollenweider, “Die Metamorphose des Gottessohns: Zum epiphanialen Motivfeld in Phil 2,6–8,” in id., Horizonte neutestamentlicher Christologie: Studien zu Paulus und zur frühchristlichen Theologie (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002) 285–306.

192

tanaseanu-doebler

apparitions.58 I have suggested elsewhere that epiphany is the semantic field preferred by later pagans such as the emperor Julian or Iamblichus to denote the apparitions of divine beings such as Pythagoras, but also such as Asclepius, Heracles or Dionysus59—that is, precisely the figures which form a natural point of comparison with Jesus on account of their status as sons of gods and their violent deaths.60 The advantage with all these figures is that they are the protagonists of stories—of narratives which per se belong to another genre than a rigorous philosophical treatise and which allow greater freedom, not least the freedom to avoid an explicit philosophical statement on the matter and the freedom to simply remain silent. Viewed in this light, we may ponder whether Amelius did not simply make use of a story he found useful to illustrate his idea about the logos in a broad manner, adducing even a testimony from the Christian camp and leaving open the question of its historicity. We will return to this question in the last section of the article.

3

A Precursor to Amelius: Plutarch’s De Iside

In order to situate Amelius’ metaphrasis of John (to take up Eusebius’ wording in PE 11.19.2) in its historical context, a number of avenues may be explored. Plotinus’ notion of logos can be understood as a creative principle mediating between the higher hypostases—intellect and soul—and matter. It is often employed in the plural, and a comparable use can be found in a testimony on Amelius’ doctrine found in the fifth-century philosopher Syrianus, analyzed by Brisson: the material realm participates in the logoi of nature.61 However, the logos itself does not receive any prominence in Plotinus’ works as a clearly contoured cosmic entity or hypostasis or as an established second name for the world soul.62 Any equation with the world soul rests on conceptual blurrings

58 59

60 61

62

G. Petridou, Divine Epiphany in Greek Literature and Culture (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016). I. Tanaseanu-Döbler, “Neoplatonic readings of embodied divine presence: Iamblichus and Julian,” in A. Klostergaard Petersen & G. van Kooten (eds.), Religio-philosophical discourses in the Mediterranean world: From Plato, through Jesus, to Late Antiquity (Leiden: Brill, 2017) 338–374. Cf. M. Simon, “Early Christianity and Pagan Thought: Confluences and Conflicts,”Religious Studies 9 (1973) 385–399 (392). Syrian., In Arist. Met. 119 Kroll; Brisson, “Amelius,” 848–849. Cf. also the note of Proclus, In remp. 2.31 Kroll on Amelius’ view that the soul contains in the manner of a monad the plurality of logoi, analysed above. On logos/logoi in Plotinus see the still valuable study of R.E. Witt, “The Plotinian Logos

the logos in amelius’ fragment on the gospel of john

193

between singular and plural on the one hand and between a close association of soul and logos and an actual identification on the other hand. The same holds true for the scarce testimonies on Amelius’ use of the term, which speak of logoi contained in the soul or participated in matter, but not of the world soul as the logos, so as to justify a capital L for the latter. Another philosopher to consider would be Numenius, whom Amelius knew and valued. Numenius’ depiction of the second god—to whom Numenius assigns the demiurgic function—as essentially dual, directed both towards the first transcendent god above Being and towards matter, has strong parallels with Amelius’ thought, as Vollenweider has noted.63 However, only one extant fragment of Numenius employs the term logos in a manner comparable to our fragment, namely as the allegorical explanation of a deity (Hermes), beyond the semantics of mere rational discourse.64 This fragment would point us in the larger direction of Stoic allegoresis and its Platonic appropriation. Texts belonging to the corpus we label “Gnosticism” form a third avenue of exploration. Although Böhm’s assumption of a Ptolemaic background is not convincing,65 we might think of texts such as the Tripartite Tractate, which assigns to a lower logos the creation of the visible world as a necessary but

63 64 65

and Its Stoic Basis,” Classical Quarterly 25 (1931) 103–111, as well as Brisson, “Amelius,” 836–837, who discusses Plotinus’ use of logos as the background for Amelius. Brisson points to the Stoic background of the concept in Plotinus and to his partial assimilation between logos and soul, and he emphasises the character of the logos or logoi as mediators between intellect and material nature. From here he goes one step further: he takes the assimilation between soul and logos for granted, for Plotinus as well as for Amelius, and then proceeds to reconstruct Amelius’ doctrine of the world soul from the Johannine paraphrase which has the logos as its main protagonist (840–843). However, we need to retain with Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” that the logos does not appear as a well-contoured hypostasis of its own in Plotinus, as it does in the fragment of Amelius. Furthermore, we do not find a consistent assimilation or equation of soul and logos in Plotinus, although there certainly is a close association of the two. Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 384–387 presents Plotinus’ logos conception as one possible influence on Amelius. Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” also reads Amelius against a Plotinian background (36), combined with Procline exegeses (33–34). For the Plotinian notion of the logos and its implications for understanding Amelius see also Fattal, “Dal Logos di Plotino.” Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 387–388. Numen., fr. 57 des Places: Hermes as the προχωρητικὸς λόγος (“the logos which goes forth”). Böhm, “Ptolemäische Gnosis bei Hegel?,” 118–121. In the Ptolemaic system as represented in Irenaeus (which Böhm cites as the possible background of Amelius), a fall of the logos, which belongs to the higher aeons and does not move downwards, would be difficult to account for.

194

tanaseanu-doebler

utterly inferior copy of the divine,66 or the Hermetic Poimandres, which also knows of a demiurgic logos. The possible relationships of this text to John’s gospel have been considered.67 However, the logos of the Tripartite Tractate is decidedly inferior to other aeons, and the logos of the Poimandres appears more as an instrument than an agent of creation. In the following, I would like to pursue further the consequences of the second option: the fact that Platonists such as Numenius integrated Stoic allegoresis into their frame of thought,68 including interpretations of figures from the pagan pantheon as manifestations of the logos. Numenius’ allegory of Hermes as a certain aspect of the logos rests on an interpretative pattern that is also found in Stoic authors of the Imperial age such as Cornutus or Heraclitus.69 Marcel Simon has pointed out that in Cornutus, Heracles, too, is attributed demiurgic functions and is interpreted as the logos in nature. He emphasizes the striking similarity between the Heracles-logos of Cornutus or the tragedian Seneca, with his demiurgic and soteriological functions, and the logos/Son of God of John and other Christian writings.70 For him, this Stoic allegorizing tradition as well as the Christian tradition have one great advantage: “elles peuvent donner un nom au Logos.”71 And it could be added that beyond the name, both traditions also endow the logos with a story and biography. A striking example of how these figures could be associated with Christ is found in Justin Martyr’s First Apology, where he emphasizes the points of contact between various pagan divine sons and Jesus; among the former, Hermes and Heracles are mentioned, and Hermes is explicitly presented in his 66

67 68

69 70 71

Tractatus tripartitus (NHC I,5) 76.3–85.37; see E. Thomassen, The Spiritual Seed: The Church of the “Valentinians” (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2006) 167–168. On the intricacies of logos terminology in Gnostic texts see Ph. Perkins, “Logos Christologies in the Nag Hammadi Codices,” Vigiliae Christianae 35 (1981) 379–396. Poimandr., 5–11; J. Büchli, Der Poimandres: Ein paganisiertes Evangelium. Sprachliche und begriffliche Untersuchungen zum 1. Traktat des CH 1.5–11 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987). This appropriation of Stoic allegoresis should be regarded as part of the larger field of interaction between Platonists and Stoics that has attracted attention in recent research. See M. Bonazzi & C. Helmig (eds.), Platonic Stoicism—Stoic Platonism: The Dialogue between Platonism and Stoicism in Antiquity (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2007) or T. Engberg-Pedersen (ed.), From Stoicism to Platonism: The Development of Philosophy, 100 bce–100 ce (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017). Cornutus, Compendium 16.2; Heraclitus, Homeric Questions 68.2 or 72.4; for the association of Hermes with logos cf. already Plato, Crat. 407e–408b. M. Simon, Hercule et le christianisme (Paris: Belles-Lettres, 1959) 95–110, with reference to Cornutus, Seneca, Lucian, and Epictetus. Simon, Hercule et le christianisme, 106. Cf. also Fattal, “Dal Logos di Plotino,” 89, who points out that the personal conception of the logos in John marks a fundamental difference from the Stoic and Plotinian conceptions of the logos.

the logos in amelius’ fragment on the gospel of john

195

allegoric guise as logos.72 As the example of Justin shows, the juxtaposition of Jesus with Hermes as the logos is embedded in a larger comparison between Jesus and other mythical divine sons, some of whom even suffer violent deaths, such as Heracles, Asclepius and Dionysus; these figures are sometimes considered, as mentioned above, as having been born in historical times and then having ascended to divine status.73 Building on such models, an inclusion of the story of Jesus among the pagan divine sons and representations of the logos becomes understandable; in the fourth century, Julian will oppose the same mythical figures to Christ.74 This parallel between Amelius’ treatment of John and Stoic allegoresis has, to my knowledge, not been systematically explored in scholarship in connection with Amelius’ paraphrase of John.75 It must be noted that Amelius’ first teacher of philosophy may have been a Stoic.76 Brisson remarks—although without considering the allegorical engagement with pagan deities such as Hermes or Heracles—that “Amélius semble, sur certains points, avoir subi une profonde influence stoïcienne, notamment lorsqu’il parle du Λόγος et des λόγοι”.77 Irmgard Männlein-Robert, moreover, points out that Longinus, in styling himself as a true Platonist, casts Amelius decidedly as a Stoic; she asserts Stoic influence on Amelius’ conception of the logos, given the identification of Christ as logos with the World Soul.78 Furthermore, Stoic allegoresis is present in the writings of Porphyry, who in the circle of Plotinus will be Amelius’ foremost colleague and rival. Porphyry employs Stoic allegoresis in a Platonic framework in De antro nympharum,79 as well as in his treatise De simulacris, in which he 72

73

74 75 76 77 78 79

Justin, 1Apol. 21; Justin also mentions there other comparanda to Christ, such as the figures of Asclepius and Dionysus, Perseus, the Dioscures, the catasterism of Ariadne, and the imperial apotheosis. While the tone in the apology is conciliatory, in Dial. Tryph. 69 the parallels between Heracles, Dionysus, Asclepius, and Jesus are presented more outspokenly as diabolic imitations. Cf. Cicero, De natura deorum 2.62 (Hercules, Dioscuri, Asclepius, Dionysus, Romulus); there, these deified figures are presented as part of a Stoic account of the divine. See also the passages in n. 49. See Tanaseanu-Döbler, “Neoplatonic readings of embodied divine presence,” 367–371. The only one to refer to Cornutus summarily in the context of a brief history of the logos concept is Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 379n9. Brisson, “Amelius,” 799 and 800, referring to Porph., Vita Plotini 3 and 20; the identification is assumed without further discussion by Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 31 and 33. Brisson, “Amelius,” 800. Männlein-Robert, “Longinos und Amelios,” 1318 and 1320. E.g. De antro 32 for the interpretation of Athena as phronesis; see I. Tanaseanu-Döbler, “Patron Goddess of Athens—Patron Goddess of Philosophy? Athena in Proclus and the Neoplatonic Tradition,” in id. & L. v. Alvensleben (eds.), COMES Athens ii: Athens in Late Antiquity (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2020) 311–378 (314–319).

196

tanaseanu-doebler

explains the traditional deities along Stoic lines as powers of the one God.80 In this perspective, Hermes is for him a symbol of “the logos which creates and expresses everything”; Hermai with their peculiar iconography are taken to symbolize the tension in the universe as well as “the seminal logos which pervades everything”. The composite nature of the logos allows for multiple deities as symbols, “Hermes [the logos] in the sun, Hekate that in the moon, Hermopan that in the universe; for the seminal and creative [logos] reaches down to everything.”81 He presents the Egyptian Kneph too as “a logos which is hard to discover and hidden away and invisible”.82 Here, traditional deities are understood as codes for the logos and its various cosmic manifestations. This presence of Stoic connections and ideas in the intellectual network of Amelius calls for further exploration of the Stoic parallel. I want to consider here a text close to Amelius’ and Porphyry’s philosophical home. Plutarch’s De Iside and Amelius’ account of John can be compared fruitfully not only in terms of their shared approach to myth and Barbarian wisdom, as Dörrie has proposed,83 but also in their Platonic accentuation of the Stoic logos. I will not analyze the whole group of elaborately crafted interpretations which Plutarch offers for the Isis and Osiris myth and cult,84 but rather confine myself to highlighting the parallels between Amelius’ John and Plutarch’s Egyptian lore. A first point that should be kept in mind is that both Amelius and Plutarch write as philosophers interpreting or rephrasing religious lore extraneous both to philosophy and to Hellenism.85 The “Barbarian” of Amelius alludes to the Platonic topos of casting non-Greek, especially Eastern, priestly or other

80 81

82

83 84

85

Cf. Diog. Laert. 7.147 or Seneca, De beneficiis 4.7–8. De simulacris fr. 359F, ll.106–113 Smith: τοῦ δὲ λόγου τοῦ πάντων ποιητικοῦ τε καὶ ἑρμηνευτικοῦ ὁ Ἑρμῆς παραστατικός. ὁ δὲ ἐντεταμένος Ἑρμῆς δηλοῖ τὴν εὐτονίαν, δείκνυσιν δὲ καὶ τὸν σπερματικὸν λόγον τὸν διήκοντα διὰ πάντων. λοιπὸν δὲ σύνθετος λόγος, ὁ μὲν ἓν ἡλίῳ Ἑρμῆς, Ἑκάτη δὲ ὁ ἐν τῇ σελήνῃ, Ἑρμόπαν δὲ ὁ ἐν τῷ παντί· κατὰ πάντων γὰρ ὁ σπερματικὸς καὶ ποιητικός. Given that I paraphrase the text closely above, I do not repeat the translation. Ibid., fr. 360F, ll.6–7: λόγος δυσεύρετος καὶ ἐγκεκρυμμένος καὶ οὐ φανός. On the passages from De simulacris and Porphyry’s use of logos as compared to that of Plotinus, see also A. Smith, “Porphyry’s Metaphysical Objections to Christianity in Contra Christianos,” in I. Männlein-Robert (ed.), Die Christen als Bedrohung? Text, Kontext und Wirkung von Porphyrios’ Contra Christianos (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 2017) 31–40 (35). Dörrie, “Une exégèse néoplatonicienne,” 497–498. On the treatise see J.G. Griffiths, “Introduction and Commentary,” in id., Plutarch’s De Iside et Osiride: Edited with an Introduction, Translation, and Commentary (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1970) 1–110 and 253–578, respectively. This is the main point of comparison between the two in Dörrie, who uses it to develop his exegesis of Amelius as correcting John and refusing his idea of incarnation as unphilosophical (“Une exégèse néoplatonicienne,” 497–500).

the logos in amelius’ fragment on the gospel of john

197

distinctive groups as sages. Plutarch chooses safely with the Egyptian motif, picking the Oriental sages par excellence.86 Amelius’ choice is more unusual, but may be understood in light of Numenius, who pushes the Orientalizing approach so far as to explicitly draw on Moses and the Hebrews; he may even have alluded, albeit obliquely, but obviously not negatively, to Jesus himself.87 Furthermore, both philosophers focus on a story which implies the descent and ultimate death of a divine being as well as its subsequent reascent to divine status—the dismemberment of Osiris, the death of Jesus.88 In his collection of various interpretations of Isis and Osiris, which he weaves together into a complex hierarchy of progressive truth, Plutarch presents his own interpretation of Isis as the feminine principle of the cosmos, associated with nature and matter, while Osiris represents the divine in its purest, intellectual form, towards which material nature strives and by whom she is impregnated with form and being, giving birth to Horus, the visible cosmos.89 In this characterization of Osiris, Plutarch draws on a variety of notions: “intellect and logos” (371A), “the Existent, Intelligible, and Good” (373A), “the Intelligible” (373E), “the first god” (374F). The most prominent notion employed to capture what hides behind Osiris is that of logos, which forms the red thread of Plutarch’s last interpretation.90 We shall now examine the main passages where this interpretation is developed. 86

87

88 89 90

On Plutarch’s attitude toward Egyptian and non-Greek lore, cf. the balanced assessment of Griffiths, “Introduction and Commentary,” 28–32. Cf., however, also D.S. Richter, “Plutarch on Isis and Osiris: Text, Cult, and Cultural Appropriation,” Transactions of the American Philological Association 131 (2001) 191–216, who argues that Plutarch systematically and subtly recasts Egyptian culture in the De Iside et Osiride and elsewhere so as to measure it ultimately by the standard of Hellenic tradition and to redress the balance of an overly enthusiastic appraisal of the Barbarians and what he terms a “derivative” view of Greek culture and cult (193–194). The discussion is incorporated into D.S. Richter, Cosmopolis: Imagining Community in Late Classical Athens and the Early Roman Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press 2011) 213–229. See also R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Viele Bilder—ein Gott: Plutarchs polylatrischer Monotheismus,” in N. Hömke et al. (eds.), Bilder von dem Einen Gott: Die Rhetorik in monotheistischen Gottesdarstellungen der Spätantike (Berlin/Boston: de Gruyter, 2016) 43–68 (esp. 50 and 54–55 for De Is. et Os.). Numen., fr. 1a–c and 10 des Places (in the latter, Origen credits him with an allegorical interpretation of a ἱστορία τις of Jesus); see Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 380 with n. 17, who draws a parallel between Numenius’ oblique mention of Jesus and Amelios’ oblique mention of John. Cf. also Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 41n17, who considers the possibility of an ironic twist to the Christian claim to superior Barbarian wisdom. Cf. Dörrie, “Une exégèse néoplatonicienne,” 497. De Is. et Os. 372E–374B. On Osiris as the divine logos and the Stoic background of this idea see Hirsch-Luipold, “Viele Bilder—ein Gott,” 50.

198

tanaseanu-doebler

In De Iside 372E, Plutarch presents Isis and Osiris as follows: Ἡ γὰρ Ἶσίς ἐστι μὲν τὸ τῆς φύσεως θῆλυ καὶ δεκτικὸν ἁπάσης γενέσεως, καθὸ τιθήνη καὶ πανδεχὴς ὑπὸ τοῦ Πλάτωνος, ὑπὸ δὲ τῶν πολλῶν μυριώνυμος κέκληται διὰ τὸ πάσας ὑπὸ τοῦ λόγου τρεπομένη μορφὰς δέχεσθαι καὶ ἰδέας. ἔχει δὲ σύμφυτον ἔρωτα τοῦ πρώτου καὶ κυριωτάτου πάντων, ὃ τἀγαθῷ ταὐτόν ἐστι. For Isis is the feminine aspect of nature and that which is able to receive all generation, and she is named accordingly ‘nurse’ and ‘all-receiving’ by Plato, and ‘she of innumerable names’ by the masses, because she receives all forms and ideas when directed by the logos. She has a natural love for the first and highest of all, which is identical with the Good. This divine feminine principle of nature is the “space and matter of both” good and evil, but eternally strives towards the Good (372E–F), allowing it to generate by sowing into herself “emanations and likenesses” of itself. The engagement of the logos—here identified with the Good—with matter is here presented as a positive cosmic process, allowing Isis (matter and nature) to perfect herself by achieving her innate yearning and impulse towards the Good and allowing Osiris (the logos or the Good) to turn his fecundity and productivity into actual reality. The result of this union is an image of eternal being: “For the generation within matter is an image of Being, and that which is generated is a copy of that which exists” (372F–373A).91 Here we have the same relationship between Osiris/eternal Being/logos on the one hand and generation on the other hand which we read earlier in Amelius’ rephrasing of John. This close union of material nature and logos is correlated by Plutarch with the mythical mortality of Osiris: ὅθεν οὐκ ἀπὸ τρόπου μυθολογοῦσι τὴν Ὀσίριδος ψυχὴν ἀίδιον εἶναι καὶ ἄφθαρτον, τὸ δὲ σῶμα πολλάκις διασπᾶν καὶ ἀφανίζειν τὸν Τυφῶνα, τὴν δ’ Ἶσιν πλανωμένην καὶ ζητεῖν καὶ συναρμόττειν πάλιν. τὸ γὰρ ὂν καὶ νοητὸν καὶ ἀγαθὸν φθορᾶς καὶ μεταβολῆς κρεῖττόν ἐστιν· ἃς δ’ ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ τὸ αἰσθητὸν καὶ σωματικὸν εἰκόνας ἐκμάττεται καὶ λόγους καὶ εἴδη καὶ ὁμοιότητας ἀναλαμβάνει, καθάπερ ἐν κηρῷ σφραγῖδες οὐκ ἀεὶ διαμένουσιν ἀλλὰ καταλαμβάνει τὸ ἄτακτον αὐτὰς καὶ ταραχῶδες ἐνταῦθα τῆς ἄνω χώρας ἀπεληλαμένον καὶ μαχόμενον πρὸς τὸν Ὧρον, ὃν ἡ Ἶσις εἰκόνα τοῦ νοητοῦ κόσμον αἰσθητὸν ὄντα γεννᾷ.

91

De Is. et Os. 372F–373A, εἰκὼν γάρ ἐστιν οὐσίας ⟨ἡ⟩ ἐν ὕλῃ γένεσις καὶ μίμημα τοῦ ὄντος τὸ γινόμενον.

the logos in amelius’ fragment on the gospel of john

199

Therefore, it is with some plausibility that they mythically recount that Osiris’ soul is eternal and imperishable, but that Typhon often tears apart his body and makes it disappear, and that Isis wanders about and seeks it and puts it together again. For the existent and intelligible and good is superior to perishing and transformation; but the images which the sensible and corporeal takes from it as imprints and the logoi and forms and likenesses which (the sensible and corporeal) receives, are like seal imprints on wax: they do not last forever, but they are caught by the disorderly and unruly, which has been banished from the upper realm hither and which fights with Horus, whom Isis brings forth as the image of the intelligible, as he is the sensible cosmos.92 Here, Osiris is basically divided: his eternal and immortal soul is equated with the logos in its absolute form, existing eternally above matter as the intelligible cosmos. His torn body is correlated with the logoi and forms which he sows into matter and generates. These images of the logos are permanently threatened and destroyed by chaos. The image used by Plutarch of Osiris as consisting of an immortal soul and a mortal body underscores the close connection between the absolute logos and its material images. The metaphor of fathered offspring further emphasizes this intertwining. Horus is presented as the epitome and quintessence of the generation process: he represents the visible cosmos and image of the intelligible. This relationship between the pure logos and its generated image is underscored by a further allegory which presents Horus as a distinct type of logos, not pure any more, but still the legitimate offspring of his father: διὸ καὶ δίκην φεύγειν λέγεται νοθείας ὑπὸ Τυφῶνος, ὡς οὐκ ὢν καθαρὸς οὐδ’ εἰλικρινὴς οἷος ὁ πατήρ, λόγος αὐτὸς καθ’ ἑαυτὸν ἀμιγὴς καὶ ἀπαθής, ἀλλὰ νενοθευμένος τῇ ὕλῃ διὰ τὸ σωματικόν. περιγίνεται δὲ καὶ νικᾷ τοῦ Ἑρμοῦ, τουτέστι τοῦ λόγου, μαρτυροῦντος καὶ δεικνύοντος, ὅτι πρὸς τὸ νοητὸν ἡ φύσις μετασχηματιζομένη τὸν κόσμον ἀποδίδωσιν. This is why Horus is said to defend himself from the charge of illegitimacy raised by Typhon, because he is not pure and unmixed like his father, who is the logos itself, without mixture and passions, but adulterated by matter on account of the corporeal. But he prevails and wins, because

92

De Is. et Os. 373AB.

200

tanaseanu-doebler

Hermes, that is the logos, testifies and shows that nature, when conforming its shape to the intelligible, produces the cosmos.93 Osiris as the logos appears also in De Iside 375D (Osiris as the “common logos of the things in heaven and in Hades”).94 As seen in the passage above, the term logos can be applied also to Hermes, or to Anubis,95 who is closely correlated with Hermes;96 in both cases, the logos has mainly a revelatory function. Plutarch is, however, quite emphatic in presenting only Osiris as the unmixed logos par excellence, as we have seen above; Hermes or (Herm)anubis appear as manifestations or subordinate entities related to Osiris.97 A last passage that needs consideration is Plutarch’s final injunction to recognize the universal nature of the divine and to avoid “regionalizing” or confining gods such as Isis or Osiris to a solely Egyptian background: […] θεοὺς ἐνομίσαμεν, οὐχ ἑτέρους παρ’ ἑτέροις οὐδὲ βαρβάρους καὶ Ἕλληνας οὐδὲ νοτίους καὶ βορείους· ἀλλ’ ὥσπερ ἥλιος καὶ σελήνη καὶ οὐρανὸς καὶ γῆ καὶ θάλασσα κοινὰ πᾶσιν, ὀνομάζεται δ’ ἄλλως ὑπ’ ἄλλων, οὕτως ἑνὸς λόγου τοῦ ταῦτα κοσμοῦντος καὶ μιᾶς προνοίας ἐπιτροπευούσης καὶ δυνάμεων ὑπουργῶν ἐπὶ πάντα τεταγμένων ἕτεραι παρ’ ἑτέροις κατὰ νόμους γεγόνασι τιμαὶ καὶ προσηγορίαι […] we have come to believe in gods, not in different gods among different peoples, nor in Barbarian and Hellenic gods, nor in northern or southern gods. Rather, just like the sun and the moon and heaven and earth and the sea are common to everybody but are called different names by different peoples, so too for the one logos that orders everything and the one providence which governs all and the subservient powers disposed

93

94 95 96 97

De Is. et Os. 373B. On the whole passage De Is. et Os. 372E–373C see W. Löhr, Basilides und seine Schule: Eine Studie zur Theologie- und Kirchengeschichte des zweiten Jahrhunderts (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996) 237–239, who notes the engendering and union metaphors for the creation of the world and underscores that Plutarch’s explanation maintains the dominance of the good principle. Griffiths, “Introduction and Commentary,” 504 points to Gnostic parallels to Plutarch’s conception of Isis (Gospel of Truth, Apocryphon of John). De Is. et Os. 375D: κοινὸς γάρ ἐστι τῶν ἐν οὐρανῷ καὶ τῶν ἐν Ἅιδου λόγος. De Is. et Os. 375E: ὁ δ’ ἀναφαίνων τὰ οὐράνια καὶ τῶν ἄνω φερομένων λόγος Ἄνουβις ἔστιν ὅτε καὶ Ἑρμάνουβις ὀνομάζεται, τὸ μὲν ὡς τοῖς ἄνω τὸ δ’ ὡς τοῖς κάτω προσήκων. On Anubis and Hermes see Griffiths, “Introduction and Commentary,” 517–518. Cf. Griffiths, “Introduction and Commentary,” 505.

the logos in amelius’ fragment on the gospel of john

201

towards every end different honors and names were developed according to the laws among different peoples.98 The logos appears here as a key notion of Plutarch’s own theory of religion and the divine: stating that there is but one demiurgic logos and one providence at the highest and truest level of divinity99 entails that logos becomes, at least here, the designation for the divine. Plurality comes in at the level of subordinated particular powers and at the level of human engagement governed by law; that is, by cultural convention. The passages surveyed show that in De Iside, Plutarch draws on the concept of logos in a way which recalls the Stoic logos as the rational ordering and providential principle of the universe100 but accentuates it in an unmistakably Platonic manner: the logos is equated with the intelligible and the good and is clearly separated from matter. However, the ontological separation is complemented and counterbalanced by the emphasis on the logos’ close and fruitful engagement with matter and nature, which results in copies and likenesses retaining an intimate connection with the logos himself. To highlight this dialectic of ontological separation and generative union, Plutarch here exploits the possibilities offered by the myth of Isis and Osiris, namely sexual union,

98 99

100

Plu., De Is. et. Os. 377F–378A; cf. Hirsch-Luipold, “Viele Bilder—ein Gott,” 54–55. See R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Der eine Gott bei Philon von Alexandrien und Plutarch,” in id. (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch: Götterbilder—Gottesbilder—Weltbilder (Berlin/New York: de Gruyter, 2005) 141–168 on the characteristics of Plutarch’s inclusive monotheism; for the depiction of Osiris as the divine logos and the highest God ibid. 143 and 153–154. Plutarch himself remarks earlier in De Iside on the doctrine which he ascribes to the Stoics that “the demiurge of a matter without qualities is one logos and one providence (ἕνα λόγον καὶ μίαν πρόνοιαν)” (369A); cf. J.P. Hershbell, “Plutarch and Heraclitus,” Hermes 105 (1977) 179–201 (198), before he starts developing his own final interpretation, which then leads him to take up again the formulation εἷς λόγος … μία πρόνοια in the passage just quoted. The “impress of Stoic teaching” which can be sensed behind De Is. et Os. 67 according to Griffiths, “Introduction and Commentary,” 532–533 (quot. 532), is thus rearticulated: the formula is now no longer simply the Stoic one but has received a Platonic qualification and interpretative key. On Plutarch’s logos, see also the brief and somewhat overly simplified analysis of J. Dillon, “Plutarch and Platonism,” in M. Beck (ed.), A Companion to Plutarch (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014) 61–72 (61 and 64–65). Dillon is right, however, to point out that “it is only in the De Is. et Os. that we observe the unequivocal appearance of a Logos-figure in Plutarch’s philosophical system, but one can only reflect that we are deprived of many of his most serious philosophical works” (64). For Plutarch’s engagement with Stoicism, see also J. Opsomer, “Plutarch and the Stoics,” ibid. 88–103 (91–92 and 94 on Plutarch’s points of contention with Stoic theology and his Platonic insistence on a transcendent God), as well as id. “Is Plutarch Really Hostile to the Stoics?” in EngbergPedersen (ed.), From Stoicism to Platonism, 296–321 (esp. 300–302 and 321).

202

tanaseanu-doebler

engendering offspring in one’s likeness, and the duality between the imperishable soul and the mortal body of Osiris. Additionally, the choice of the myth entails that the logos, in the persona of Osiris, is associated with a story of violence, suffering, death and final restoration which Plutarch uses to underline the Platonic conception that a threat to order is inherent in the material cosmos.

4

Comparison and Contextualization

Plutarch’s exegesis of Osiris puts the logos center stage as the eternally existent model which generates copies of itself in the realm of becoming. This parallels closely Amelius’ selective rephrasing of John 1. For Plutarch, Osiris is a mythical (Egyptian) name and symbolic illustration of the universal divine logos. Amelius seems to find the same logos in Heraclitus as well as John, which would point to a similar orientation: both the Greeks and the Barbarians state the same truths in their own way. With the logos, both Plutarch and Amelius take up a notion that is not necessarily the first one Platonists would have had recourse to—and one that will be steadily marginalized even more in later Platonism. Already in Plotinus, the logos does not have a special position, let alone designate a demiurgic high level of divinity. Both Plutarch and Amelius nuance this notion in a clearly Platonic way, equating it tacitly or openly with the level of Being (thus both authors) or even with the intelligible and the good (thus Plutarch). And both are open, although to different degrees, to the notion of an actual engagement and intertwining of the divine logos with nature and matter that goes beyond the metaphor of an ontologically detached demiurge, which implies a certain degree of activity on the part of the logos and is not seen as totally negative, albeit fraught with fall and death. Amelius’ reading of John may be understood within a form of Platonism which is open towards Stoic concepts, comparable to the stances taken by Porphyry in De antro and De simulacris. If Amelius’ teacher Lysimachus was indeed a Stoic, then this may have played a role in Amelius’ openness towards the logos concept. Plutarch’s De Iside shows that there was at least one Platonic precedent which nuanced the Stoic logos according to Platonic ontology, all the while maintaining its singular position as a universal force. It is not implausible to assume that Amelius read Plutarch. Amelius’ interest in religious rites and practices which Plotinus did not share101 corresponds to Plutarch’s interest in prac-

101

On the well-known anecdote opposing Amelius, qualified by Porphyry as philothytes, to

the logos in amelius’ fragment on the gospel of john

203

ticed religion. In Plutarch’s De Iside, Amelius would have found an approach enabling him to make good use and sense of John from a Platonic perspective. We can sense his Platonic frame of thought quite clearly in the adaptations he makes to the wording of the prologue and also in his description of the ending with its connection between becoming divine again and separation from matter. Here, Amelius indeed departs from John and operates along Plutarchean lines. However, unlike Plutarch, he prefers to stick with the story of an individual descent and ascent in his account without problematizing it further. Another difference is the role assigned to the logos and its vicissitudes: whereas in Plutarch the generation of the material cosmos is paramount, the emphasis lies on revelation in Amelius’ paraphrase of John. The issue that arises is the question how Amelius’ at least tacit endorsement of John’s story with its historical protagonist can be understood within the framework of third-century Platonism. Both Amelius and his colleague Porphyry show that Jesus had become a figure discussed and partly appropriated by pagan Platonists, although the strategies to come to terms with him varied. Porphyry attempts to deconstruct his divine status as logos;102 on the other hand, in his Philosophy from Oracles, he places in the mouth of Hecate an oracle about Jesus as an especially pious sage whose soul had ascended to the place of pure souls.103 Amelius retains Jesus’ status as logos and does not deny his revelatory descent and ascent, contenting himself with Platonizing both and casting them in an epiphanic manner, as Vollenweider has argued, tentatively proposing that Amelius viewed the story of John as a myth with a possible particular historical concretion: Jesus as a pure soul descending and manifesting the logos. I would like to pursue this line of inquiry further by considering an influential third-century Christian exegesis of John’s prologue as well as some aspects of Amelius’ own thought. It goes without saying that the following considerations cannot claim to lift the veil that must forever surround such a frag-

102

103

Plotinus’ philosophical religiosity (Plot. 10) see, e.g., Brisson, “Amelius,” 810–811; Amelius’ interest in religious practice is duly noted by Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 32, and Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke.” See R. Goulet, “Cinq nouveaux fragments nominaux du traité de Porphyre ‘Contre les chrétiens,’ ” Vigiliae Christianae 64 (2010) 140–159; Smith, “Porphyry’s Metaphysical Objections to Christianity,” 33–36. For the difference between Amelius’ approach to Jesus and the gospel of John and that of Porphyry, see J.G. Cook, The Interpretation of the New Testament in Greco-Roman Paganism (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000) 148–150, or Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 391–392. See also, more generally, Dörrie, “Une exégèse néoplatonicienne,” 494 on the “antagonisme” of the two, which results also in divergent attitudes to Christianity. Phil. ex or. fr. 345F/aF Smith.

204

tanaseanu-doebler

mentary and isolated piece and cannot establish with certainty what Amelius read and meant, especially given the almost complete lack of firsthand evidence for his thought. They may, however, at least render his openness towards a historical story about the logos more comprehensible. John Dillon has already drawn attention to Origen’s Commentary on John as a useful comparandum to Amelius.104 Beyond the aspects and passages he considered, I propose to look closer at the way Origen presents the incarnated Christ and his relationship to the divine logos. While acknowledging the unique historical event of the incarnation, Origen relativizes it insofar as he integrates it into a picture of perennial communion between humans and the logos and presents it as a descent aimed at converting the majority, while his descent to the “perfect” operates along immaterial lines and occurs repeatedly even before the incarnation; this higher descent is thus taken out of a unidirectional, progressive historical timeline.105 Origen is quite clear that the incarnation and humanity of Jesus are merely a prop which ultimately has to be overcome by spiritual progress leading from the “Christ in flesh” (2 Cor 5:16; e.g. In Joh. 2.3.29) to the “logos which was with God.” This progress is linked with the assumption of a dynamic of descent and ascent that evinces points of contact with Amelius: Διόπερ ἀναγκαῖον πνευματικῶς καὶ σωματικῶς χριστιανίζειν· καὶ ὅπου μὲν χρὴ τὸ σωματικὸν κηρύσσειν εὐαγγέλιον, φάσκοντα “μηδὲν εἰδέναι” ⟨ἐν⟩ τοῖς σαρκίνοις “ἢ Ἰησοῦν Χριστὸν καὶ τοῦτον ἐσταυρωμένον”, τοῦτο ποιητέον· ἐπὰν δὲ εὑρεθῶσι κατηρτισμένοι τῷ πνεύματι καὶ καρποφοροῦντες ἐν αὐτῷ ἐρῶντές τε τῆς οὐρανίου σοφίας, μεταδοτέον αὐτοῖς τοῦ λόγου ἐπανελθόντος ἀπὸ τοῦ σεσαρκῶσθαι ἐφ’ ὃ “ἦν ἐν ἀρχῇ πρὸς τὸν θεόν” This is why Christianity needs to be professed spiritually as well as bodily. And where it is necessary to proclaim the bodily Gospel, saying that “we do not know anything else” among the things of the flesh “than Jesus Christ, and him crucified”, then this must be done. However, when there be found such as have been prepared by the spirit and who bear fruit in it and are enamored of the celestial Wisdom, then we have to give them a share of the logos which returned upwards from the incarnated state to that which it was “in the principle with God.”106 104 105 106

Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 37–38. In Joh. 1.7.37–38 (I use the edition of C. Blanc [ed./trans.], Origène: Commentaire sur Saint Jean, vol. 1 [Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1996, 2nd ed.]). In Joh. 1.7.43. The translation of ἀρχή as “principle” is based on Origen’s reflections in In Joh. 1.19.110–118. The ἀρχή is for him divine Wisdom as the fundamental dimension of Christ, which encompasses also the aspect of logos.

the logos in amelius’ fragment on the gospel of john

205

The preliminary, provisional, and temporary status of the incarnation is here underlined as something that the logos leaves behind to regain its former divine status. Similarly, Origen assumes the presence of the logos in all humans qua rational creatures: a presence common to all, which in the majority of humans is still imperfect, corresponding to the incarnated logos, and a presence “according to its summit” (κατὰ ἀκρότητα) in the perfect ones, which corresponds to the divinity of the logos.107 He then inquires ⟨εἴ τι⟩ ἔστι μεταξὺ τοῦ “ὁ λόγος σὰρξ ἐγένετο” καὶ “θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος” ἐν τοῖς ἀνθρωπίνοις ἰδεῖν, οἷον ἀναστοιχειουμένου τοῦ λόγου ἀπὸ τοῦ γεγονέναι αὐτὸν σάρκα καὶ κατὰ βραχὺ λεπτυνομένου, ἕως γένηται, ὅπερ ἦν ἐν ἀρχῇ, θεὸς λόγος ὁ πρὸς τὸν πατέρα· οὗ λόγου τὴν δόξαν εἶδεν ὁ Ἰωάννης ἀληθῶς μονογενοῦς ὡς ἀπὸ πατρός. whether we can observe an intermediate state between “the logos became flesh” and “the logos was God” on the human level, so to say, as when the logos is dissolved into its elements from its having become flesh and gradually becomes more rarefied, until it becomes what it was in the principle, God the logos who is directed towards the Father, the glory of which logos John saw as that of a true only son born of the Father.108 The cosmic movement and states of the divine logos are pictured here as corresponding to different states of human development and perfection; from the two extremes, Origen deduces an intermediate state on the human level between the many and the perfect few, to which according to the correspondence established for the extremes an intermediary phase of the cosmic movement of the logos is assigned, conceptualized as a progressive liberation and dissolution (ἀναστοιχειοῦσθαι); this dissolution constitutes a prerequisite for reascent to the original divine status. This idea is comparable to Amelius’ ἀναλύειν of the logos as the prerequisite to its ascent and apotheosis. The blending which Origen effects between the one incarnational descent of the logos and its eternal presence in the cosmos and many descents towards the perfect ones, moreover, has the effect of mitigating the uniqueness of the historical incarnation. By relativizing the historical incarnation, Origen’s scheme moves much closer towards pagan philosophical conceptions of the logos or its counterpart, the world soul. 107 108

In Joh. 1.37.269–275. Cf. also. In Joh. 6.39.194–197: the logos was eternally everywhere in the cosmos and in the human beings. In Joh. 1.37.276.

206

tanaseanu-doebler

For Origen, the divine logos, which receives its divinity from the one God, is the perfect expression and image of the Father, mediating divinity and rationality to rational creatures. The logos of every rational creature has the same relationship to the divine logos as the divine logos has with the Father. Origen proceeds to trace a hierarchical system of rational beings with the Father at its apex, the logos, already not any more God in the absolute sense, as the mediator of divinity and rationality in the second place, and a plethora of rational beings in the image of the logos, which can be considered gods in a derivative sense, in the third rank. The next step for Origen is to sketch a hierarchy of forms of religion corresponding to this hierarchy of superior beings: there are such as recognize the highest and only absolute God as their god, there are those who remain focused on the Son of God, while the third order, farther away from God but still having access to some kind of divine reality, albeit of a low degree, have been given the stars as gods. Origen delimits these sharply from the worshippers of man-made idols. These four groups participate in the divine logos differently. The first, who have reached the Father and are governed directly by the logos himself, have full participation in the logos “which was in the principle” and “was with God” and was “God”. The second group, “the majority of those who are said to believe” (τὸ πλῆθος τῶν πεπιστευκέναι νομιζομένων), know only “Jesus Christ, and him crucified”, and thus only the Christ according to the flesh; they are said to have reached only the Savior and to be governed by a logos attached to the divine logos that they take to be the first. The third group, which Origen identifies with all valuable Greek philosophers, participates in the logos by their adherence to doctrines considered superior to discursive rationality, while the fourth group adulterates the received logos, denying providence and choosing another goal than what is ethically good.109 This system has the advantage of establishing a larger common ground with Platonic philosophers such as Amelius or his colleagues in the circle of Plotinus. Not only does Origen offer a more integrative approach in his interpretation of the distinction between astral religion and idol worship found already in the Sapientia Salomonis or Philo,110 finding positive words to value and include into a divine plan what he considers to be proper Greek philosophy. He also paints a hierarchical picture that appeals to Imperial Platonic eyes, with one God in the absolute sense, expressed uniquely by the Son as his image and logos—Plotinus, too, uses the notion of logos for the relationship of the 109

110

In Joh. 2.1.12–33. For the fourth group with their denial of providence and the morally good as the telos of human life, cf. also Plotinus, Enn. 2.9.15, on Epicurus and the Gnostics who outdo him in both respects. Sap.Sal. 13; Philo, Spec. leg. 1.13–22.

the logos in amelius’ fragment on the gospel of john

207

intellect to the One111—who mediates between him and the rational creatures participating in the logos. Furthermore, Origen’s emphasis on putting the “Christ according to the flesh” firmly in the second place and distinguishing him as a lower manifestation for the great mass of simple believers from the truly divine dimension of the logos works within a scheme familiar to the Platonists, putting what belongs to matter and history second and the immaterial and eternal first, even in the unique case of Christ as the convergence of the two realms. Origen’s approach to John’s prologue represents an influential Christian voice of the third century, belonging to an intellectual celebrity grudgingly acknowledged as such by Amelius’ colleague Porphyry, who emphasizes that Origen worked with Biblical myths, but thought like a Hellene.112 He is therefore a good illustration for what Amelius might have known of Christianity, beside the texts and groups mentioned by Porphyry in the Vita Plotini as “heretical”. His commentary on John develops a form of Christianity and logos-theology with a high potential of bridge-building towards the philosophical frame of thought linking Plutarch and Amelius. If Amelius and his readers had not only, as Dillon rightly infers from his oblique designation of John as “the Barbarian”, “a considerable degree of familiarity […] with at least the author of the Fourth Gospel”,113 but also with Christian exegeses of the type developed by Origen, it might be easier to understand how Amelius could choose to retell John’s story as the story of the universal logos without sensing the need to expressly deny its historicity. Going back to Amelius’ own thought, we have noted above the parallelism in the way in which Amelius speaks of the soul and of the logos. This points to the fact that both serve to designate roughly the same entity. If so, Amelius’ insistence on the numerically and substantially one soul, which casts apparent distinctions into particular souls as mere temporary instantiations that do not touch the soul’s essence, may help to understand how a story about a logos or soul “fallen into bodies”, appearing in human form and reascending to divine status, can be integrated into a larger picture and allowed to stand as a possible manifestation of the logos: in Jesus and behind the appearance of his individu111 112 113

Cf. Plot., Enn. 5.1.3 and 6; in 5.1.7, intellect is designated as εἰκών of the first principle. For the logos as (ἀρχέτυπος) εἰκών of God, see Orig., In Joh. 2.2.18 and 20. Euseb., HE 6.19.5–8. Dillon, “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” 38–39. See also the opposing view of Dörrie, “Une exégèse néoplatonicienne,” 501–502: Amelius did not want to scandalize his pagan addressees by openly referring to a Christian text; therefore, he labels it as Barbarian to capitalize on the topos of Barbarian wisdom and its accord with Greek philosophy. In Dörrie’s view, Amelius does not consider himself to rely upon a Christian author, but ultimately on the logos which reveals itself even in Barbarian texts.

208

tanaseanu-doebler

ality, one would find in him the same one soul that is at work in the whole cosmos.114 Insofar, we may consider a variation on Vollenweider’s interpretation115 which does not import a new figure of thought, such as the descent of pure souls, into the picture but rather moves along the lines suggested by Amelius’ wording. This certainly negates the unique nature of the logos’ revelation in Jesus,116 but a similar take can already be detected in nuce in Origen’s reflections on the logos. A last piece that can be added to the puzzle to help understand how Amelius might have been able to reconcile historical individuality with philosophical cosmology is a doxographical account by Proclus, who surveys his predecessors’ approaches to the myth of Atlantis. For Numenius and the Neoplatonists— Amelius, Origen the Platonist, Porphyry, Iamblichus, and Syrianus—Proclus records that they acknowledged the events as historical but attributed to them a larger symbolic significance as symbols (εἰκόνες) of cosmic processes.117 Should Amelius have transferred this approach to another story in which he sensed cosmic and metaphysical potential, namely to John’s story of Jesus’ descent and ascent, he might have identified in this story, too, the cosmic cycle of descent and ascent which he elsewhere described for the soul in general, without denying the basic historicity of the story. In variation of the oft-quoted dictum of Salustius about myths: Ταῦτα ἐγένετο μέν ποτε, ἔστι δ’ ἀεί.118

Bibliography Abramowski, L., “Nicänismus und Gnosis im Rom des Bischofs Liberius: Der Fall des Marius Victorinus,” ZAC 8 (2005) 513–566. Blanc, C. (ed./trans.), Origène: Commentaire sur Saint Jean, vol. 1 (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1996, 2nd ed.). Böhm, Th.M., “Ptolemäische Gnosis bei Hegel? Anmerkungen zur Interpretation des Johannesprologs durch Amelius,” in F.R. Prostmeier & H.E. Lona (eds.), Logos der Vernunft—Logos des Glaubens (Berlin/New York: de Gruyter, 2010) 109–128. 114 115 116 117 118

Cf. also Fattal, “Dal Logos di Plotino,” 106, who emphasises, however, the plurality of particular souls. Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 391–392. Insofar I agree with Michel Fattal, “Dal Logos di Plotino,” 107, although I do not share his purely mythical reading. Proclus, In Tim. 1.76–78 Diehl. Salustius, De diis et mundo 4.9, with regard to the myth of Attis: Ταῦτα δὲ ἐγένετο μὲν οὐδέποτε, ἔστι δὲ ἀεί. The dictum is also quoted and used to understand Amelius’ approach to John by Vollenweider, “Der Logos als Brücke,” 388, however, there in its original form.

the logos in amelius’ fragment on the gospel of john

209

Bonazzi, M. & Helmig, C. (eds.), Platonic Stoicism—Stoic Platonism: The Dialogue between Platonism and Stoicism in Antiquity (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2007). Brisson, L., “Amelius,” ANRW 2,36,2 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1987) 793–860. Büchli, J., Der Poimandres: Ein paganisiertes Evangelium. Sprachliche und begriffliche Untersuchungen zum 1. Traktat des CH 1.5–11 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987). Calvo, J.M., “The Christ-Logos Question in Amelius,” Schole 12 (2018) 365–379. Cook, J.G., The Interpretation of the New Testament in Greco-Roman Paganism (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000). Dillon, J., “Plutarch and Platonism,” in M. Beck (ed.), A Companion to Plutarch (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014) 61–72. Dillon, J., “St John in Amelius’ Seminar,” in P. Vassilopoulou & S.R.L. Clark (eds.), Late Antique Epistemology: Other Ways to Truth (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009) 30–43. Dörrie, H., “Une exégèse néoplatonicienne du prologue de l’Evangile selon St. Jean [Amélius chez Eusèbe, prép. ev. 11, 19, 1–4],” in id., Platonica minora (Munich: Fink, 1976) 491–507 (orig. in J. Fontaine & Ch. Kannengiesser [eds.], Epektasis: Mélanges patristiques offerts au Cardinal Jean Daniélou [Paris: Beauchesne, 1972] 75–87). Engberg-Pedersen, T. (ed.), From Stoicism to Platonism: The Development of Philosophy, 100bce–100ce (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017). Fattal, M., “Dal Logos di Plotino al Logos di san Giovanni: verso la soluzione di un problema metafisico?” in F. Carderi & M. Mantovani & G. Perillo (eds.), Momenti del Logos (Rome: Edizioni Nuova Cultura, 2012) 71–123. Goulet, R., “Cinq nouveaux fragments nominaux du traité de Porphyre ‘Contre les chrétiens,’” Vigiliae Christianae 64 (2010) 140–159. Griffiths, J.G., “Introduction and Commentary,” in id., Plutarch’s De Iside et Osiride: Edited with an Introduction, Translation, and Commentary (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1970) 1–110 and 253–578. Hadot, P., “Être, Vie, Pensée chez Plotin et avant Plotin,” in Les sources de Plotin 5: Entretiens sur l’Antiquité classique (Vandoeuvres/Geneva: Fondation Hardt, 1957) 107–141. Halfwassen, J., Hegel und der spätantike Neuplatonismus: Untersuchungen zur Metaphysik des Einen und des Nous in Hegels spekulativer und geschichtlicher Deutung (Hamburg: Felix Meiner Verlag, 1999). Hershbell, J.P., “Plutarch and Heraclitus,” Hermes 105 (1977) 179–201. Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Viele Bilder—ein Gott: Plutarchs polylatrischer Monotheismus,” in N. Hömke, G.F. Chiai & A. Jenik (eds.), Bilder von dem Einen Gott: Die Rhetorik in monotheistischen Gottesdarstellungen der Spätantike (Philologus suppl. 6, Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter, 2016) 43–68. Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Der eine Gott bei Philon von Alexandrien und Plutarch,” in id. (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch: Götterbilder—Gottesbilder—Weltbilder (RVV 54, Berlin/New York: de Gruyter, 2005) 141–168.

210

tanaseanu-doebler

Löhr, W., Basilides und seine Schule: Eine Studie zur Theologie- und Kirchengeschichte des zweiten Jahrhunderts (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996). Männlein-Robert, I., “Longinos und Amelios,” in Ch. Riedweg & Ch. Horn & D. Wyrwa (eds.), Die Philosophie der Antike, vol. 5/2: Philosophie der Kaiserzeit und der Spätantike (GGP, Basle: Schwabe, 2018) 1310–1321. Opsomer, J., “Is Plutarch Really Hostile to the Stoics?” in Engberg-Pedersen, T. (ed.), From Stoicism to Platonism: The Development of Philosophy, 100bce–100ce (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017) 296–321. Opsomer, J., “Plutarch and the Stoics,” in M. Beck (ed.), A Companion to Plutarch (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014) 88–103. Perkins, Ph., “Logos Christologies in the Nag Hammadi Codices,” Vigiliae Christianae 35 (1981) 379–396. Petridou, G., Divine Epiphany in Greek Literature and Culture (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016). Richter, D.S., Cosmopolis: Imagining Community in Late Classical Athens and the Early Roman Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press 2011). Richter, D.S., “Plutarch on Isis and Osiris: Text, Cult, and Cultural Appropriation,” Transactions of the American Philological Association 131 (2001) 191–216. Riedweg, Ch., “Aspects de la polémique philosophique contre les chrétiens dans les quatre premiers siècles,” in Annuaire de l’École pratique des hautes études (EPHE), Section des sciences religieuses 123 (2016) 151–158. Rist, J.M., “St. John and Amelius,” JThS 20 (1969) 230–231. Simon, M., “Early Christianity and Pagan Thought: Confluences and Conflicts,”Religious Studies 9 (1973) 385–399. Simon, M., Hercule et le christianisme (Paris: Belles-Lettres, 1959). Smith, A., “Porphyry’s Metaphysical Objections to Christianity in Contra Christianos,” in I. Männlein-Robert (ed.), Die Christen als Bedrohung? Text, Kontext und Wirkung von Porphyrios’ Contra Christianos (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 2017) 31–40. Tanaseanu-Döbler, I., “Patron Goddess of Athens—Patron Goddess of Philosophy? Athena in Proclus and the Neoplatonic Tradition,” in id. & L. v. Alvensleben (eds.), COMES Athens ii: Athens in Late Antiquity (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2020) 311– 378. Tanaseanu-Döbler, I., “Neoplatonic readings of embodied divine presence: Iamblichus and Julian,” in A. Klostergaard Petersen & G. van Kooten (eds.), Religio-philosophical discourses in the Mediterranean world: From Plato, through Jesus, to Late Antiquity (Leiden: Brill, 2017) 338–374. Tardieu, M., “Les gnostiques dans la Vie de Plotin: Analyse du chapitre 16,” in L. Brisson et al. (eds.), Porphyre: La Vie de Plotin, vol. 2 (Paris: Vrin, 1992) 503–546. Thomassen, E., The Spiritual Seed: The Church of the “Valentinians” (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2006).

the logos in amelius’ fragment on the gospel of john

211

Verheyden, J., Bieringer, R., Schröter, J. & Jäger, I. (eds.), Docetism in the Early Church: The Quest for an Elusive Phenomenon (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2018). Vollenweider, S., “Der Logos als Brücke von Evangelium zur Philosophie: Der Johannesprolog in der Relektüre des Platonikers Amelios,” in A. Dettwiler & U. Poplutz (eds.), Studien zu Matthäus und Johannes: Festschrift für Jean Zumstein zu seinem 65. Geburtstag (Zurich: Theologischer Verlag Zürich, 2009) 377–397. Vollenweider, S., “Die Metamorphose des Gottessohns: Zum epiphanialen Motivfeld in Phil 2,6–8,” in id., Horizonte neutestamentlicher Christologie: Studien zu Paulus und zur frühchristlichen Theologie (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002) 285–306. Witt, R.E., “The Plotinian Logos and Its Stoic Basis,” Classical Quarterly 25 (1931) 103–111.

chapter 10

Plutarch’s Reception in the Church Fathers Georgiana Huian

1

Introduction: The ‘Veiled’ Plutarch

It is not easy to approach the vast topic of Plutarch’s reception in the Church Fathers. Most of the time, Plutarch is not quoted or mentioned by name, so he remains ‘veiled’ in a new discourse which builds upon his own discourse, or a dialog (even critical dialog) with Plutarch’s works is initiated. This appearance of an author ‘veiled’ in the speech of another is common for the ancient ‘performance’ of logos, where the written logos can circulate without his father and thus develop its own destiny, or history (including what we call today a reception history).1 Not naming the ‘father’ of the logos (‘veiling’ him) follows a common practice in Antiquity wherein an author would borrow an idea from another author and use it in a new discourse. With this presupposition in mind, we expect that Plutarch’s thinking is implicitly present in patristic texts, either offering a source of inspiration for concepts, arguments, and examples under the umbrella of ‘Platonic’ authority, or topics and arguments that can be criticized as representing ‘pagan’ religious thinking. Therefore, exploring Plutarch’s reception will be, in the first instance, a pursuit and attempt of the confirmation of these expectations. For this purpose, some methodological questions need to be considered in a first step. 1.1 Methodological Questions First of all, the researcher is confronted with at least three sets of methodological questions when trying to sketch the main lines of Plutarch’s importance for the Church Fathers. 1. How should one proceed to identify quotations, allusions, common examples, concepts, conceptual frames, and images that originated in Plutarch’s thought? Would a philological tracking of verbatim borrowings and similar phrases offer sufficient material to study the connections between Plutarch’s thought and patristic developments? 2. When we encounter 1 For the critique of the dangers of the ‘written discourse’, see the Myth of Theuth in Plato’s Phaedrus 274d–275b. Using the metaphor of the ‘father’ of a logos in order to refer to authorship, I allude here also to Derrida’s famous essay on “Plato’s Pharmacy” (J. Derrida, Dissemination, tr. Barbara Johnson [London: The Athlone Press, 1981] 61–172).

© Georgiana Huian, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004505070_012

plutarch’s reception in the church fathers

213

the famous reference to ‘Plato’, ‘Platonists’, and ‘Platonism’ in patristic texts, who is hiding behind the ‘Platonist’ curtains? Can the researcher peel back the general label of ‘Platonism’ and subsequently identify an individual thinker who might be constantly providing the contents of thought offered under that label? Are there elements which might legitimate the statement that Plutarch is the ‘veiled’ Platonist to whom the Fathers refer in a certain (presumably large) number of cases? 3. Can we determine and characterize, among Christian writers, the scope of access and readership of Plutarch’s works? In other words: which of Plutarch’s works were known and read among Christians? How did his works circulate in Christian communities and how were they made accessible, e.g. between the second and the fifth centuries? Were they accessible in full length or rather through fragments available in compilations and philosophical handbooks composed for didactic purposes? How does the manuscript transmission of Plutarch’s works and their school use influence the reception? These three main domains of methodological inquiry are to be complemented by a critical reassessment of the methodological presuppositions that have hitherto accompanied or informed the approach to Plutarch’s reception. 1.2 Methodological Presuppositions When approaching the question of Plutarch’s influence or reception, scholars have advanced or have worked within a framework of one or more methodological presuppositions. I will try to mention some of them, yet without claiming to offer a complete list. 1. There is a linear evolution of literature (including religious and philosophical ‘literature’), and the ‘heritage’ of an author can be identified by searching for the ‘evolution’ of his topics, concepts or arguments in later authors.2 2. There is a distinction between the ‘survival’ (Fortleben) and the selection process (Wiederaufnahme) which characterises the presence of Plutarch’s thoughts, motives, arguments etc. in later authors.3 3. One can and should strive to offer a taxonomy of types of reception of the Chaeronean, for example by proposing a scheme of generic and specific references to Plutarch.4

2 M. La Matina, “Plutarco negli autori cristiani greci,” in I. Gallo (ed.), L’eredità culturale di Plutarco dall’antichità al Rinascimento: Atti del vii Convegno plutarcheo Milano-Gargnano, 28–30 maggio 1997 (Naples: D’Auria, 1998) 81–110 (81). 3 La Matina, “Plutarco,” 83. 4 The model proposed by La Matina (“Plutarco,” 82) would be the complex diagram sketched by Gennaro D’Ippolito in order to classify different types of references and citations to Greek

214 4.

5.

huian

“The Christians have based themselves on a kind of ethical koine impregnated by Platonism.”5 This common language can be identified in many cases in the works of Plutarch. Plutarch’s reception in the Fathers can have a biographical coloring. It may be regarded as an effect of their training in philosophical and rhetorical schools of Antiquity, and therefore the references to Plutarch are set as one casual element in a very long list of references to Ancient poets, tragedy-writers, historians, and philosophers. Plutarch is only one reference, blurred and mixed with others, in the vast and composite landscape of the ‘reception of Greek literature.’6

1.3 State of Research Classical broad overviews of similarities between Plutarch’s works and the Church Fathers (Hirzel,7 de Faye8) have been supplemented recently with focused studies on a determined corpus of texts. Some studies concentrate on patristic writings which have evident similarities with Plutarch’s works such that the search for verbatim borrowings or clear allusions offers quite rich material. One such text is Basil’s Address to the Young, which offers interesting and incontestable parallels to Plutarch’s De audiendis poetis. Olga Alieva, for instance, provides a detailed list of figures of speech, anecdotes, quotations, and allusions to classical authors which indicate that Basil used at least two of Plutarch’s treatises while writing his homily (xxii): De audiendis poetis and De profectibus in virtute.9 Working on the same textual relationship between Basil

5 6

7 8

9

literature in the works of Basil of Caesarea. See G. D’Ippolito, “Basilio di Cesarea e la poesia graeca,” in Centro di Studi Umanistici (ed.), Basilio di Cesarea: la sua età, la sua opera e il basilianesimo in Sicilia: Atti del Congresso internazionale, Messina, 3–6 dicembre 1979 (Messina: Centro di Studi Umanistici, 1983) 309–379 (326–331). A.-I. Bouton-Touboulic, “Présences des Moralia de Plutarque chez les auteurs chrétiens des ive et ve siècles,” Pallas 67 (2005) 95–113 (101). R.J. Deferrari, “The Classics and the Greek Writers of the Early Church: Saint Basil,” CJ 13.8 (1918) 579–591 (585): “Thus it is only natural that we should find that in these sermons Basil did not excerpt from any particular author, but spoke sentiments which were the composite product of his training in the schools of rhetoric and his studies in the ancient pagan and later Christian authors.” R. Hirzel, Plutarch (Leipzig: Dieterich’sche Verlagsbuchhandlung Theodor Weicher, 1912) 83– 90. E. De Faye, Origène: Sa vie, son œuvre, sa pensée, 3 vols. (Paris: Leroux, 1923–1928) 2.99–140. In this long chapter dedicated to Plutarch, de Faye hints at many similarities in ideas and mindset between the philosopher who assumed to be Apollo’s priest and the renowned theologian of Alexandria. O. Alieva, “On Plutarch’s Influence upon St. Basil’s Address to the Young on the Value of Greek

plutarch’s reception in the church fathers

215

and Plutarch, Benneker is more concerned with attributing the similarities in argument and content to common references to Plato and to a “like-minded moralizing approach to Greek Literature”.10 Such studies aim to surpass more skeptical researchers as regards Plutarch’s direct influence on the writing of Basil, such as N.G. Wilson11 of R.J. Deferrari.12 Other investigations are concerned with a broader range of Christian writings altogether and seem to point to a rather various (encyclopaedic?) use of topics, arguments, and images that might have been rooted in Plutarch. With a fine eye for moral philosophy as well as for patristic developments, BoutonTouboulic tracks with outstanding clarity the influences of the Moralia in the Church Fathers of the fourth and fifth centuries. Some of the examples presented in this essay (precisely: the reflection of Plutarch’s topics and examples in John Chrysostom, Augustine, and Jerome) rely on this excellent analysis. Marcello la Matina discusses the methodological presuppositions of the study of Plutarch’s reception and suggests a classification of possible references to Plutarch in the Fathers. He traces parallels (of the “Wiederaufnahme” type) between Plutarch and Clement of Alexandria, Isidor of Pelusium, Basil of Caesarea (referring to the second homily on Psalm 14 in a close reading with Plutarch’s De vitando aere alieno,13 and to Basil’s Ad adulescentes together with De audiendis poetis), and finally Theodoret of Cyrrhus, the Antiochian theologian who mentions Plutarch twenty-six times in A Cure of Greek Maladies.14 Other studies, even though they do not include any reflection on the status of Plutarch in patristic texts, bring to the foreground elements from Plutarch’s thought that might have been of relevance for the Fathers, such as the role of mystical silence, initiation, mystery cults, and the idea that the mysteries are not simply

10 11

12

13

14

Literature,” in The xx Annual Theological Conference of the Saint Tikhon Orthodox University of Humanities, vol. 1 (Moscow: PSTGU publisher, 2010) 232–236. J. Benneker, “Plutarch and Saint Basil as Readers of Greek Literature,” SyllClass 22 (2011) 95–111 (96). See the introductory remarks to his edition of Saint Basil on the Value of Greek Literature (London: Duckworth, 1975) 7–17 (12): “But although Plutarch had written essays on ‘The education of children’ and ‘Reading the Poets’ (Moralia 1–14 and 14–37 respectively), I have not found enough verbatim similarities to prove with the same degree of certainty that B. was borrowing directly from Plutarch.” The connection between Ad adulescentes and De audiendis poetis is considered to be “probably very slight” and based on common topoi rooted in “the philosophy of the time” (Deferrari, “The Classics,” 582). In the analysis of references to Plutarch in Basil’s Homily on Ps. 14, La Matina uses the notions of “traduzione endolinguistica,” borrowed from R. Jakobson, and “imitazione celata,” taken from the diagram of D’Ippolito (La Matina, “Plutarco,” 95–96). La Matina, “Plutarco,” 107.

216

huian

a metaphor of the truth, but the very place of the realized truth.15 That the reception of Plutarch is a field of current exploration is equally proven by a volume which has been recently published by Brill.16

2

Plutarch’s Presence in the Church Fathers

That Plutarch is much more prevalent in the Church Fathers than the explicitly attributed quotations would lead us to believe can be attested mainly, I propose, by: 1. common themes and topoi, 2. similarities in argumentation, 3. borrowing of exempla, 4. the use of common conceptual frames. 1. Among the common themes shared by the Church Fathers with Plutarch, we can mention: education (Basil of Caesarea, John Chrysostom), marriage (Jerome), the use of riches (John Chrysostom), vainglory in the form of kenodoxia in relation to philotimia (John Chrysostom), the mediation between the human and the divine (Augustine), the number and status of the sensible world in relation to the intelligible world and the question of multiple worlds (Gregory of Nazianzus).17 There are also many topoi favored by the Church Fathers which have an obvious correspondence in Plutarch’s works, such as: the mirror, the ship and the pilot, or the initiation into ‘Lesser Mysteries’ as path for the initiation into ‘Greater Mysteries’. I understand here by topos not only the use of a figurative language constructed around a central image, but also the reverberations of this image in the construction of a certain argument. Apparently, Church Fathers borrowed from Platonist thinking in general and from Plutarch in particular not only the same images, but they used them in similar or dissimilar (polemical) ways in the construction of an argument. 2. Similarities with Plutarch’s arguments can be identified in different thematic constellations including educational or ethical questions. The plea for a selective use of literature (Basil), or the construction of the critique of vainglory (John Chrysostom) offer good ground for discerning such similarities. 15

16 17

P. Van Nuffelen, “Words of Truth: Mystical Silence as a Philosophical and Rhetorical Tool in Plutarch,” in B. Castelnérac (ed.), Philosophia and Philologia: Plutarch on Oral and Written Language, Hermathena 182 (2007) 9–39, especially the conclusion at 33–34. S. Xenophontos & K. Oikonomopoulou (eds.), Brill’s Companion to the Reception of Plutarch (Leiden: Brill, 2019). Generally speaking, “ethics, philanthropy and appreciation of love, marriage and family” can be counted among the themes that Church Fathers share with the Chaeronean. (R. Hirsch-Luipold, “Plutarch,” RAC 27 (2016) 1009–1037 [1037]).

plutarch’s reception in the church fathers

217

3.

The use of the same examples from Greek mythology, literature, and history can signal another trait of a plausible inspiration from Plutarch. The tragic figure of Clytemnestra, or the unhappy couple of Paris and Helen, are only a few of the exempla borrowed by Jerome from Plutarch, as shown later on in the section of this chapter which is dedicated to Jerome. 4. The use of common conceptual frames is more difficult to assess with certainty. It is nevertheless essential in shaping Christian thought, especially in its reception and reconfiguration of Platonic thought. One such pattern is the ontological and religious question of mediation between the human and the divine, between the mortal and the immortal, which is addressed in Augustine’s De civitate Dei, which implicitly has the conceptual framework developed by Plutarch in De defectu oraculorum lurking in the background. These four categories do not presume to exhaust the scope of Plutarch’s explicit or implicit, declared or (more often) ‘veiled’ presence in the Patristic writings. More such categories which aim to offer a systematic view of possible explorations of Plutarch’s reception could be added. Nevertheless, they are proposed here as instruments for a lucid and critical approach of ‘parallels’ between texts and authors, aiming to avoid the danger of ‘parallelomania’.18 The choice of authors and texts intends to offer research material with paradigmatic or exemplary character for the study of Plutarch’s reception in the Church Fathers. Even if each of the categories may be filled with other examples, the examples chosen for the present study are meant to suggest the variety of ‘crossroads’ in themes, tropes, motifs, images, names from the Classical heritage, arguments, and conceptual structures where Plutarch’s writings and Patristic writings meet. How these textual meeting points are to be interpreted or classified in terms of ‘reception’, whether they are considered as borrowing, development, selection, reconsideration, influence etc. remains a question that needs to be answered against a good methodological background, namely one that has responded to the methodological questions and has taken positions regarding the methodological presuppositions sketched above. In most of the cases, the unilateral linear representation, according to which Plutarch plays the role of the ‘source’ and the later writings of the Church Fathers are merely a ‘derivation’19 and ‘development’, must be questioned. In many cases, nevertheless,

18

19

See S. Sandmel, “Parallelomania,” JBL 81 (1962) 1–13. He defines ‘parallelomania’ as “that extravagance among scholars which first overdoes the supposed similarity in passages and then proceeds to describe source and derivation as if implying literary connection flowing in an inevitable or predetermined direction” (1). See the language criticised by Sandmel, “Parallelomania,” 1.

218

huian

a methodological model looking for ‘family similarities’, ‘partial overlapping’, and ‘dialogic strategies’ may help the modern researcher identify and describe Plutarch’s presence in the Patristic ‘landscape’ to a better degree.

3

Types of Reception

3.1 Basil of Caesarea: Borrowing a paideic Paradigm Basil’s Address to the Young (Ad adulescentes) has been compared multiple times to Plutarch’s De audiendis poetis. The question related to this comparison can be formulated as follows: Does Basil’s address evince a “structural resemblance” and a systematic use of Plutarch, or merely an indirect contact with Plutarch’s writing?20 The Address to Young Men on How to Study Greek Literature (ca. 370ad) is considered by some scholars to be an “imitation” of Plutarch’s How to Study Poetry (How the Young Man Should Study Poetry). The common problem is justifying the reading of literature when literature is judged inferior to philosophy (Plutarch) and, respectively, to Scripture (Basil). Philosophy and Scripture are viewed, respectively, as the ultimate source of truth, and the use of literature is analyzed from the angle of its potential to serve the ascent to the highest level of truth. Both epistemic approaches with clear moral roots may go back ultimately to Plato’s banishing of the poets in Republic 398a and thus echo “the ancient quarrel between poetry and philosophy” (Rep. 607b).21 Both Plutarch and Basil seek what is profitable in literature (τὸ χρήσιμον).22 Both finally consider literature as a beneficial step for initiation into greater mysteries. I will not develop and discuss here the list of similarities that have already been the object of many investigations.23 I will give only one example of a topos 20 21 22

23

See Bouton-Touboulic, “Présences,” 98, n. 15. See G. Most, “What Ancient Quarrel between Philosophy and Poetry?” in P. Destrée & F.G. Herrmann (eds.), Plato and the Poets (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2011) 1–20. De aud. poet. 15–16 tr. Babbitt: “Wherefore poetry should not be avoided by those who are intending to pursue philosophy, but they should use poetry as an introductory exercise in philosophy, by training themselves habitually to seek the profitable in what gives pleasure, and to find satisfaction therein; and if there be nothing profitable, to combat such poetry and be dissatisfied with it.” Beside the studies mentioned above presenting the state of the research, many introductions to editions of Basil’s Ad adulescentes discuss the relationship to Plutarch. F. Boulanger presents a long series of stories that Basil has taken from Plurarch’s Vitae and Moralia in order to use them as examples for his demonstration; he mentions as plausible sources for these examples the following works of the Chaeronean: Life of Pericles, De ira cohibenda, De fraterno amore, Life of Alexander, De Alexandri fortuna, De exilio, De profec-

plutarch’s reception in the church fathers

219

widely spread in the Platonic and Christian literature. Within the argument, I will discuss the possible borrowing of a citation together with its anthropological and ontological presuppositions from Plutarch. For Basil, the selective approach to Greek literature is rendered through the image of sailing on the sea, connected to the metaphor of the ship: This is precisely the advice that I have come to share with you: that you should not once and for all hand over the rudders of your mind, as of a ship (ὥσπερ πλοίου τὰ πηδάλια τῆς διανοίας ὑμῶν παραδόντας) to these [pagan authors] and to follow them wherever they may lead, but accepting from them whatever is profitable, you should also know what to overlook.24 In How to Study Poetry, Plutarch also compares education to a journey on the sea.25 The caution one should assume in this journey towards poetry is illustrated both by the wax that prevented the ears of the Ithacans from hearing the songs of Sirens and by the mast to which Ulysses tied himself, the latter representing the standard of reason: Shall we then stop the ears of the young, as those of the Ithacans were stopped, with a hard and unyielding wax, and force them to put to sea in the Epicurean boat, and avoid poetry and steer their course clear of it; or rather shall we set them against some upright standard of reason and there bind them fast, guiding and guarding their judgement, that it may not be carried away from the course by pleasure towards that which will do them harm?26 The metaphor of the “good piloting” closes Plutarch’s De audiendis poetis, and defines the destination of the journey across the sea of poetry as being the land of philosophy:

24 25 26

tibus in virtute (F. Boulanger, Saint Basile: Aux jeunes gens sur la manière de tirer profit des lettres helléniques [Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1965] 28–29). Thielko Wolbergs also presents a list of “thoughts, expressions, images and comparisons” that Basil seems to have borrowed or even “copied” from Plato, Plutarch or Clement of Alexandria (T. Wolbergs, Erläuterungen zum Text, in Basilius von Cäsarea, Mahnreden [Munich: Kösel, 1984] 94–98). Plato and Plutarch are mentioned in the “sources of pagan culture” in the introduction by M. Naldini in his Basilio di Cesarea, Discorso ai Giovani (Oratio ad Adolescentes) (Florence: Nardini Editore, 1984) 26–30. Basil, leg. lib. gent. 1.24–28, tr. Benneker, “Plutarch and Saint Basil,” 100. Plu., De aud. poet. 15D, 37B. De aud. poet. 15D, tr. Babbitt (slightly revised).

220

huian

The young man has need of a good pilotage in the matter of reading (ἀγαθῆς … κυβερνήσεως περὶ τὴν ἀνάγνωσιν), to the end that, forestalled with schooling rather than prejudice, in a spirit of friendship and goodwill and familiarity, he may be convoyed by poetry into the realm of philosophy.27 Moreover, Plutarch generally names reason the κυβερνήτης (pilot) of the soul,28 an image reminiscent of Plato’s Phaedrus where the νοῦς is considered to be the κυβερνήτης ψυχῆς (247c). In fact, in Plato’s myth of the winged chariot, the rational part of the soul is the leading part assigned control of both the white horse (the irascible part) and the black horse (the appetitive part). But the source of the image developed by Basil can be found directly in Plato. On the one hand, in Book 6 of the Republic, the philosopher is considered suited to be the pilot of the ship (the city), while other citizens are like sailors trying to persuade the ship-owner to hand the rudder (πηδάλιον) to them.29 On the other hand, the phrase “handing over the rudders of the mind as of a ship” has a verbatim correspondence in Clitophon 408b2.30 Basil’s handling of this topos shows a certain similarity in form and content to Plutarch’s use. Nonetheless, it also testifies to the methodological difficulty of speaking of direct influence as long as a common reference in Plato may be the source for both authors. 3.2 Gregory of Nazianzus: One or Multiple Worlds? The influence of Plutarch on Gregory of Nazianzus, Basil’s friend, is much less obvious and therefore less discussed by scholars. One possible topic at the ‘meeting point’ between Plutarch and Gregory of Nazianzus is the status of the sensible world, specifically the question of its uniqueness or multiplicity.31 The argument of the Timaeus states that the uniqueness of the kosmos can be derived from its perfection and beauty, which comes as a consequence of the work of the δημιουργός.32 Therefore, due to the nature of the divine activity

27 28 29 30 31

32

De aud. poet. 37B, tr. Babbitt. Benneker, “Plutarch and Saint Basil,” 100. Plato, Rep. 488a–489a. I do not discuss here the debated authenticity of this dialogue which has been attributed traditionally to Plato. See Benneker, “Plutarch and Saint Basil,” 100. See the development of the argument in Plato, Aristotle, Epicureanism, Stoicism, Plutarch, Athanasius, Philo, Origen, Gregory of Nyssa in A. Richard, Cosmologie et théologie chez Grégoire de Nazianze. Collection des Études Augustiniennes (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003) 227–237. Ti. 53b: τὸ δὲ ᾗ δυνατὸν ὡς κάλλιστα ἄριστά τε ἐξ οὐχ οὕτως ἐχόντων τὸν θεὸν αὐτὰ συνιστάναι, παρὰ πάντα ἡμῖν ὡς ἀεὶ τοῦτο λεγόμενον ὑπαρχέτω.

plutarch’s reception in the church fathers

221

ordering the primitive chaotic matrix, while shaping the primordial elements through form and number, the reader is invited to accept as a postulate (as an axiomatic statement) the existence of a single world. The resemblance of the kosmos to the perfect living being also implies its oneness and excludes the idea that there could be two or infinite worlds.33 Moreover, the perfection of the world means that it contains all extant matter and that there can be, accordingly, no other matter available for the creation of other worlds.34 In De defectu oraculorum, Plutarch’s reflection (“digression”35) on the multiplicity of worlds can be understood as a response to the Epicurean as well as to the Stoic position on this question. On the one hand, against the Epicurean view of an infinity of worlds which can be made and re-made in infinite various ways as combinations of atoms, Lamprias defends the existence of multiple worlds as being perfectly compatible with the idea of the providence governing the events of multiple worlds without abandoning them to pure accident (pure chance).36 On the other hand, against the Stoics who refused the multiplication of the worlds because this would have also meant a multiplication of providence, Lamprias says that they are guilty of their own accusation, admitting an infinity of worlds in time governed by the same providence.37 The argument against the Stoics has a rhetorical turn and plays on the possibility of making representations of multiplicity and infinity compatible with a single all-governing supreme deity who acts in each world as “pre-eminent governor and ruler of the whole” (ἄρχοντα πρῶτον καὶ ἡγεμόνα τοῦ ὅλοῦ), “a god possessing sense and reason, such as the one who among us bears the name of Lord and

33 34

35 36

37

Ti. 31b: οὖν τόδε κατὰ τὴν μόνωσιν ὅμοιον ᾖ τῷ παντελεῖ ζῴῳ, διὰ ταῦτα οὔτε δύο οὔτ’ ἀπείρους ἐποίησεν ὁ ποιῶν κόσμους, ἀλλ’ εἷς ὅδε μονογενὴς οὐρανὸς γεγονὼς ἔστιν καὶ ἔτ’ ἔσται. Ti. 32c–33b: τῶν δὲ δὴ τεττάρων ἓν ὅλον ἕκαστον εἴληφεν ἡ τοῦ κόσμου σύστασις. ἐκ γὰρ πυρὸς παντὸς ὕδατός τε καὶ ἀέρος καὶ γῆς συνέστησεν αὐτὸν ὁ συνιστάς, μέρος οὐδὲν οὐδενὸς οὐδὲ δύναμιν ἔξωθεν ὑπολιπών, τάδε διανοηθείς, πρῶτον μὲν ἵνα ὅλον ὅτι μάλιστα ζῷον τέλεον ἐκ τελέων τῶν μερῶν εἴη, πρὸς δὲ τούτοις ἕν, ἅτε οὐχ ὑπολελειμμένων ἐξ ὧν ἄλλο τοιοῦτον γένοιτ’ ἄν, ἔτι δὲ ἵν’ ἀγήρων καὶ ἄνοσον ᾖ, κατανοῶν ὡς συστάτῳ σώματι θερμὰ καὶ ψυχρὰ καὶ πάνθ’ ὅσα δυνάμεις ἰσχυρὰς ἔχει περιιστάμενα ἔξωθεν καὶ προσπίπτοντα ἀκαίρως λύει καὶ νόσους γῆράς τε ἐπάγοντα φθίνειν ποιεῖ. διὰ δὴ τὴν αἰτίαν καὶ τὸν λογισμὸν τόνδε ἕνα ὅλον ὅλων ἐξ ἁπάντων τέλεον καὶ ἀγήρων καὶ ἄνοσον αὐτὸν ἐτεκτήνατο. De Faye, Origène, 111. De def. or. 24, 423CD, tr. Babbitt: “For it is possible for God and prophecy and Providence to exist in more worlds than one, and for the incidence of chance to be reduced to the very smallest limits (…) Then again it is more consistent with reason that the world should not be the only-begotten of God and quite alone (τὸ τῷ θεῷ μὴ μονογενῆ μεδ’ ἔρημον εἶναι τὸν κόσμον).” De def. or. 29, 425F–426A.

222

huian

Father of all” (θεὸν ἔχοντα καὶ νοῦν καὶ λόγον, οἷος ὁ παρ’ ἡμῖν κύριος ἁπάντων καὶ πατὴρ ἐπονομαζόμενος).38 If multiplicity should be inacceptable, according to the Stoics, why should infinity, which represents a much stronger concept, be acceptable as the realm of governance of a unique supreme reason? Therefore, if a single providence could rule several worlds (πλείονες κόσμοι), it is inconceivable that it could rule an infinite number (ἀπείρους) of gods in an infinite development of worlds in time (ἐν ἀπείροις κόσμων περιόδοις).39 For Plutarch, multiplicity is a reasonable representation against the frightening landscape of the apeiron in its cosmological and theological instantiation. The conclusion of the argument states that to accept the infinity of the worlds is completely absurd and unreasonable, but to accept a limited number of worlds under the care of providence is as reasonable as the hypothesis of a single world (body) infinitely modified and diversified.40 In Athanasius’s Against the Gentiles,41 the argument is shifted so as to claim a single world as the work of a single Creator. God could have created several worlds and nothing limited his power to do that. But by free choice he created only one world in order to prevent us from imagining multiple creators for multiple worlds and thus to facilitate our access to the oneness of God coming from the oneness of the world.42 In Gregory of Nazianzus, the question of the plurality of worlds occupies a rather inferior place and is mentioned only twice.43 At the beginning of his priesthood, he mentions the question of the oneness or plurality of worlds

38

39 40

41 42

43

De def. or. 29, 426A. Here Plutarch’s account on providence is congruent with his postulate of the existence of a single demiurgic agency and ordering situated in the divine intellect. See J.P. Kenney, Mystical Monotheism: A Study in Ancient Platonic Theology (Hanover/London: Brown University Press, 1991) 44, 49. De def. or. 29, 425–426, tr. Babbitt: “for they make an infinite number of suns and moons and Apollos and Artemises and Poseidons in the infinite cycle of worlds” (425F). De def. or. 30, 426DE, tr. Babbitt: “Infinity is altogether senseless and unreasoning, and nowhere admits a god, but in all relations it brings into action the concept of chance and accident. But the Oversight and Providence in a limited group and number of worlds, when compared with that which has entered one body and become attached to one and reshapes and remodels it an infinite number of times, seems to me to contain nothing involving less dignity or greater labour.” Athan., C. gent. 39: ἠδύνατο γὰρ καὶ ἄλλους κόσμους ποιῆσαι ὁ Θεός, ἀλλ’ ὅτι εἷς ἐστιν ὁ κόσμος ὁ γενόμενος, ἀνάγκη καὶ τὸν τούτου δημιουργὸν ἕνα πιστεύειν εἶναι. Even before, the argument has been used in Philo’s De opificio mundi 171. Composed through a Jewish resignification of the Pythagorean-Platonic model and as a reply to the demiurgic account in the Timaeus, De opificio mundi claims that God created both the unique model of the world and the unique world in itself. Richard, Cosmologie et théologie, 233–235.

plutarch’s reception in the church fathers

223

being among the most important points of “our teachings”, along with other topics such as: the matter, the soul, the intellect, the good and bad natures, the providence.44 Later, in the year 380, the question of one or more worlds is included in a short catalogue of “noble” topics which should fall under the task of the theologian, precisely because they are “difficult but indifferent”:45 “In these things [or subjects], the success is not without utility, and the failure is without risks (ἐν τούτοις γὰρ καὶ τὸ ἐπιτυγχάνειν οὐκ ἄχρηστον, καὶ τὸ διαμαρτάνειν ἀκίνδυνον).”46 The list of subjects which one could reflect and discuss “philosophically” (φιλοσόφει μοι) includes: “the world or the worlds (περὶ κόσμου ἢ κόσμων), matter, the soul, the good and bad rational natures, the resurrection, the judgement, reward, the passions/sufferings of Christ.”47 The plural of κόσμος used here might not necessarily mean plural worlds, but two worlds, hinting at the Platonic distinction between the sensible and the intelligible world, somehow overlapping the Christian distinction between the material and the spiritual orders (‘worlds’). The use of ‘world’ in the plural here remains nevertheless rather vague in its relationship with other topics touching the verities of faith (e.g. the resurrection, the judgement). In both cases, Gregory is just mentioning the topic and not developing it, leaving the question of multiple worlds open. However, statistically, the use of kosmos in the singular is obvious,48 meaning “sensible world”, the universe, the whole of the material world. When he mentions two worlds, he usually means the distinction between the sensible and the intelligible world. The fact that he theoretically leaves the question open to two possible answers (although he has already taken an implicit position regarding the question) might either be a common philosophical feature or a ‘family resemblance’ with Plutarch’s view that the plurality of the worlds does not contradict or interfere with the oneness of providence. Whether it was the reading of Plutarch’s texts which might have encouraged Gregory not to decide explicitly the necessary oneness of the world, as we might have expected in the tradition of Athanasius, for example, cannot be asserted as a ‘claim’ for linear ‘derivation’ or ‘influence’.49 It is never-

44 45 46 47 48 49

Greg. Naz., Or. 2.35, apud Richard, Cosmologie et théologie, 233. Richard, Cosmologie et théologie, 233. Greg. Naz., Or. 27.10 (own tr.). Greg. Naz., Or. 27.10 (own tr.). Richard, Cosmologie et théologie, 233. The doctrine of plurality and succession of worlds is also present in Origen, and de Faye underlines the interesting comparison that arises between Plutarch and Origen in this respect (Origène, 111). The relationship between Origen’s and Gregory’s views on the topic of multiple worlds remains to be studied.

224

huian

theless interesting that Gregory’s argument stays—in two instances—quite close to Plutarch’s treatment of the same topic, while the main Christian tendency would be to argue for the oneness of the world. 3.3 John Chrysostom: Silence and Distance The question of identifying ‘borrowed’ topics from Plutarch also raises the question about the extent to which these topics are modified and altered while accommodated in another text. I will tackle this process by referring to John Chrysostom and relying on the passages paralleled with Plutarch in the cited study of Anne-Isabelle Bouton-Touboulic on the presence of Plutarch’s Moralia in the Church Fathers. John Chrysostom uses some topics well known from Plutarch’s works, integrating them into his own thinking without mentioning the source. This has been named “transformation corresponding to a Christianisation” by Anne-Isabelle Bouton-Touboulic.50 To exemplify this “transformation”, she identifies correspondences between the Address on Vainglory and The Right Way for Parents to Bring Up their Children51 (composed around 393 ad) and Plutarch’s Precepts of Statecraft (written after 100 ad). The harsh critique of vainglory (κενοδοξία) was triggered in Chrysostom’s time by the phenomenon of the elite’s generosity and patronage towards the community (also named “euergetism” or “munificence”52), still very visible in fourth century Antioch. Plutarch questions the same phenomenon in his Precepts of Statecraft and sees in this work a possible corruption of the political world. He argues that the love of the people for a political figure must be based on that figure’s virtue and not be caused by his generous financing of theatre performances, gladiators’ fights or political distributions of goods. All these actions might beckon the smiles of the masses but these honors, says Plutarch, are like the “harlots’ flatteries” (ἑταιρικαῖς κολακείαις), an “ephemeral and uncertain reputation” (ἐφήμερόν τινα καὶ ἀβέβαιον δόξαν) offered by the people to those who had done them a favor.53

50 51 52

53

Bouton-Touboulic, “Présences,” 98. Joh. Chrys., De inani gloria et de educandis liberis. A. Zuiderhoek, The Politics of Munificence in the Roman Empire: Citizens, Elites and Benefactors in Asia Minor (Cambridge/New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009); see Chapter one: Introducing euergetism: questions, definitions and data. The term ‘euergetism’ coined by modern historians of Antiquity comes from the name of “benefactor” (euergetes) and is attributed to “publicly generous members of the public elite” (4). The phenomenon of ‘euergetisme’ is examined by P. Veyne, Le pain et le cirque, sociologie religieuse d’ un pluralisme politique (Paris: Le Seuil, 1976). See also the Review by J. Andreau et al.: “Paul Veyne et l’ évergétisme,” Annales (HSS) 33/2 (1978) 307–325. Praec. ger. reip. 29, 821F, tr. H.N. Fowler.

plutarch’s reception in the church fathers

225

The image is used by John Chrysostom in De inani gloria without its political implications, but is imbued with pedagogical reflections. It fuels the allegory of vainglory which opens the writing: vainglory is in itself a demon with the power of seduction of a courtesan or prostitute.54 This image (εἰκών) of the seductive young lady who stands for the apparition of the demon of vainglory55 is used later to criticize the seduction of the soul through (theatrical) performances offered by wealthy people who consider themselves to be the ‘benefactors’ of the community.56 Chrysostom amplifies the image of this corruptive process via other images coming from the theatrical world or hunting practice, comparing the false graciousness and beautiful adornment of “vainglory” to a “comedy”, a “staging”, and a “trap”.57 One should be warned, says Chrysostom, not to fall into this “illusion” (φαντασία).58 If we compare the two critical approaches in their figurative construction with the respective moral underpinning, Plutarch might appear as a good source for Chrysostom’s critique. However, the latter might be anchored as well in the image of the flatteries of the adulterous woman from Proverbs 5:3 (“For the lips of the adulterous woman drip honey”),59 or even in a larger moral tradition of Greek literature.60 The image is certainly linked to metaphors of corporality. On the one hand, Plutarch fears that the body of the city will be invaded by sedition (στάσις), which will spread from the “diseased parts” of the body to the healthy ones.61 On the other hand, John Chrysostom seems alarmed that “the body of the Church” should not be burned by the fire of vainglory spreading veraciously to the whole body (σῶμα).62 It is important for Chrysostom that the oneness and entirety of the body does not fall apart into many parts (πολλὰ μέλη) and that charity (ἀγάπη) is not fragmented into pieces. The two authors already use the image of the body in relation to its parts differently. For Plutarch’s political metaphor, the body of the community may well have parts, but the healthy

54 55 56

57 58 59 60 61 62

Joh. Chrys., De inani gloria 2.31. Λαμπρὰν εἰκόνα γυναικὸς (De inani gloria 2.33). De inani gloria 4. The connection between the image of the brilliant “performance” and the image of the splendidly adorned seductive woman is underlined in De inani gloria, 4.85–88. De inani gloria, 2.50–53. See Bouton-Touboulic, “Présences,” 99. Ibid., 50. Cited in De inani gloria, 2.53–54. Xen., Mem. 2.1; Philo, Sacr. 21 (the depiction of pleasure). See A.-M. Malingrey, Jean Chrysostome: Sur la vaine gloire et l’ éducation des enfants (Paris: Cerf, 1972) 70, n. 1. Praec. ger. reip. 32, 824A. De inani gloria 1.1–5.

226

huian

parts should not suffer any contamination from the ill members, which can bring about the disorder and ruin of the πόλις.63 For Chrysostom’s ecclesiological vision, the oneness of the body of the Church is essential, and any division into parts should be averted. At the level of moral implications, there is another telling difference between the approach of Plutarch and that of Chrysostom. Plutarch pleads for moderation in expenses; John Chrysostom has a more radical position in the name of Christian charity and in the name of total freedom from the love of wealth: he encourages Christians to practice almsgiving without sparing anything in order to help the poor,64 and to engage in an ascetical refusal of material resources. Chrysostom also insists on the education of children in the sense of reducing vainglory through refusing any riches and opulent ornaments.65 This also bears visible similarities to Plutarch, who speaks about reducing the love of honors (φιλοτιμία) in children, using the image of the golden treasure situated in the soul: children should not be accustomed to wear or possess gold, but they are to be told repeatedly that they have their own gold in their soul.66 The close parallelism between the two writings speaks for a possible borrowing of topics, topoi, and arguments from Plutarch. Anne-Isabelle BoutonTouboulic concludes: “Une telle concordance de thèmes et d’ images invite donc à penser que Jean a pu s’inspirer des Préceptes politiques de Plutarque, pour nourrir sa critique de la vaine gloire, en reprenant le motif majeur de l’ évergétisme.”67 The French scholar proposes to name this phenomenon aemulatio and polemic retractatio, because John has in view the whole institution of euergetism, in comparison with the more moderate position of Plutarch. It is also seen as the “conversion (conversio) of a critique which, despite the common elements, becomes radical” because of Christian ideals.68 The arguments actually serve different goals: for Plutarch, to improve the pagan 63 64 65 66

67 68

Praec. ger. reip. 32, 824A. De inani gloria 11.12. See Bouton-Touboulic, “Présences,” 100. The topic is recurrent in De inani gloria starting with paragraph 16, see Bouton-Touboulic, “Présences,” 100. Praec. ger. reip. 27, 820A, with reference to Plato, Rep. 416e. “Therefore, just as Plato said that young people should be told from childhood that it is not proper for them to wear gold on their persons or to possess it, since they have a gold of their own mingled in their souls,—a figurative reference, I believe, to the virtue derived by descent, which permeates their natures,—so let us moderate our ambition, saying that we have in ourselves honour, a gold uncorrupted, undefiled, and unpolluted by envy and fault-finding, which increases along with reasoning and the contemplation of our acts and public measures.” (tr. H.N. Fowler). Bouton-Touboulic, “Présences,” 100. Bouton-Touboulic, “Présences,” 101.

plutarch’s reception in the church fathers

227

political community by giving it a sense of virtue and moderation; for John, to exclude from the Body of the Church and the soul of a child69 the vices of earthly life.70 3.4 Augustine: The Mediated Reception of the Mediation Let us turn now to the Latin reception of Plutarch. Augustine certainly embarks on a debate with Plutarch’s topics and conceptual frames, but the debate takes a mirroring or waterfall effect. Plutarch’s thought is discussed and used by Augustine via Apuleius, whose writing De deo Socratis is criticized by him in the City of God, namely in Books 8 and 9 (finished around 417ad). In fact, the Platonicus nobilis71 was very much influenced by Plutarch’s demonology, and Apuleius’s De deo Socratis bears the watermark of De defectu oraculorum.72 Augustine is interested in examining the attributes granted to daimones by Apuleius and also in questioning their role in mediating between gods and humans. Referring to De deo Socratis, Augustine concludes the following about the Platonic view on gods, daemones and human beings: According to the Platonists, then, the gods who occupy the highest region have either blessed eternality or eternal blessedness. Men, on the other hand, who occupy the lowest region, have either mortal misery or miserable mortality. But the demons, who occupy an intermediate position, have either miserable eternality or eternal misery. But when Apuleius posited these five factors in his definition of the demons, he did not show, as he had promised he would, that the demons are intermediate.73 Augustine insists that the daimones of Apuleius cannot be the real intermediators between the divine and the human world, as they are immortal and unhappy (miserable)—and they are unhappy because they have a passive nature and they are submitted to the passions.74 As immortals, the daemones 69 70 71

72 73 74

Compared to a city (De inani gloria 25). Bouton-Touboulic also mentions other possible parallels between John Chrysostom and Plutarch, but they may be the starting point for other investigations. (“Présences,” 101). Aug., civ. 8.12: in utraque autem lingua, id est et Graeca et Latina, Apuleius Afer exstitit Platonicus nobilis—“but the African Apuleius, who was learned in both languages—that is, the Greek and Latin—also won renown as a Platonist” (tr. R.W. Dyson). See Bouton-Touboulic, “Présences,” 102. Her study inspired this section. Aug., Civ. 9.13.2 (tr. Dyson). Aug., Civ. 9.13.2: Duo sunt residua, quod sunt animo passiva et tempore aeterna; quorum habent unum cum infimis, cum summis alterum, ut proportionali ratione librata medietas neque sustollatur in summa, neque in infima deprimatur. Ipsa est autem illa daemonum misera aeternitas vel aeterna miseria. Qui enim ait animo passiva, etiam misera dixisset,

228

huian

cannot share with humans in their mortality and cannot lift them from their mortality. As miserable beings, they also have no possibility to introduce humans into a state of blessedness, a state which is not shared by the divine beings with the ‘demons’. Therefore, the real mediation belongs to Christ, the only one capable of leading the human being to blissful immortality through his own “blessed mortality”, because he was mortal as a human being, but he did not remain mortal, for he rose from the dead.75 The real Mediator is not only a human being but also God, who has assumed “human infirmity” and “transient mortality”, but who has nonetheless an “everlasting blessedness”, and can by virtue of this eternal state translate human beings from mortality to immortality.76 In this way, Augustine treats critically the conceptual framework of mediation put forward by Apuleius and originally developed by Plutarch in De defectu oraculorum. The bishop of Hippo takes the conceptual pattern applied to daimones, focuses on their “attributes”, decomposes them into their potential for resemblance (in passivity and unhappiness “demons” resemble humans, in eternality they resemble gods), and finally proves the inefficacy of the framework to lift humans from miserable mortality to blessed immortality. Using other sets of attributes (“transient mortality” and “everlasting blessedness”) that will fundamentally change the resemblance and sharing potentialities within the initial mediation pattern, Augustine attributes the real and single mediation to Christ. Let us take a closer look at the development of this conceptual scheme up to its critical ‘reception’ and remodeling in Augustine. It is Plato’s Symposion which already invested daimones with the mission of being interpreters.77 This Platonic topic of intermediate beings is developed by Plutarch,78 Apuleius,79 and is addressed by Augustine in De civitate Dei.80 The vision of cosmological and ontological gradualism is refined in Plutarch’s

75 76 77 78 79 80

nisi eorum cultoribus erubuisset.—“Two attributes remain: that of being passive in soul, and that of being eternal in time; and one of these the demons have in common with the lowest, and the other with the highest, so that they are neither raised up to the highest extreme nor cast down to the lowest, but maintained in their intermediate position by an exact balance. This, however, is the very reason for the eternal misery or miserable eternality of the daemons. For he who said that they are ‘passive in soul’ would have called them ‘miserable’ had he not feared to offend their worshippers” (tr. Dyson). Civ. 9.15.1 (tr. Dyson). Civ. 9.15.1 (tr. Dyson). Plato, Symp. 202e. De def. or. 13, 416E. Apul., Socr. 6–16. Aug., Civ. 8.14.1.

plutarch’s reception in the church fathers

229

De defectu oraculorum, where the qualities of daimones are connected with their medial positioning between gods and humans, and with the claim that they are submitted to mortal predicament, illustrated by the passions of the mortals and the vicissitudes of necessity/destiny: “in the confines, as it were, between gods and men there exist certain natures susceptible to human emotions and involuntary changes (ἐν μεθορίῳ θεῶν καὶ ἀνθρώπων δεχόμεναι πάθη θνητὰ καὶ μεταβολὰς ἀναγκαίας).”81 A similar synthesis can be found in another Middle Platonist of the second century, namely Maximus of Tyre.82 Apuleius takes on the same mediation scheme, insists on affectivity (feelings and passions) suitable for the “intermediate position” (mediocritati rite),83 but changes the mortality of daimones into immortality: “For just as they are placed between us and the gods in their physical location, so they are in their mental nature, having immortality in common with those above, but emotionality [passions] with those below.”84 This passage must be the one Augustine refers to when he explains the threefold division of beings with a rational soul: “The gods occupy the most exalted region, men the lowest, and the demons an intermediate one” (Dii excelsissimum locum tenent, homines infimum daemones medium), because “they have immortality of body in common with the gods; but they have the passions of the mind in common with men” (habent enim cum diis communem immortalitatem corporum, animorum autem cum hominibus passiones).85 Thus Augustine takes the reformed mediation pattern from Apuleius and argues that mediation cannot actually succeed if the intermediators are overwhelmed by passions and therefore by misery, in addition, if they are already immortal. For if they are not eudaimones, but rather miserable, how can they lift others to happiness? And if they are immortal, how can they share the condition of mortals in order to raise them above their mortality? In his critique, Augustine 81 82

83 84

85

De def. or. 12, 416C (tr. Babbitt). Max. Tyr., Diss. 9, ed. Trapp, 73, l. 87–93. The remark belongs to J. Pépin, “Falsi mediatores duo: Aspects de la médiation dans le sermon d’ Augustin Contra Paganos (S. Dolbeau 26),” in G. Madec (ed.), Augustin prédicateur (395–411) Actes du Colloque International du Chantilly, 5–7 Septembre 1996. Collection des Études Augustiniennes (Turnhout: Brepols, 1998) 395–417 (407, n. 51), cited by Bouton-Touboulic, “Présences,” 103. Apul., Socr. 13. Apul., Socr. 13: Sunt enim inter nos ac deos ut loco regionis ita ingenio mentis intersiti, habentes communem cum superis immortalitatem, cum inferis passionem (ed. Jones). Later Apuleius presents the definition of the daimones in five features: “For, to define them comprehensively, demons are living beings by species (genere animalia), rational ones by nature (ingenio rationabilia), emotional in mind (animo passiva), aerial in body (corpore aeria), eternal in time (tempore aeterna).” (tr. Jones). Aug., Civ. 8.14.1 (tr. Dyson).

230

huian

envisages a change in the resemblance potential of the ‘attributes’ of the intermediate being: the mediator must not resemble humans (eternally) in their misery, but must participate with them (in a “transient” way) in their mortality.86 He should not be immortalis et miser; but on the contrary, mortalis et beatus.87 Most probably, Augustine is not aware that the conceptual frame he is addressing comes from Plutarch via Apuleius. He might also be unaware of arguments and attributes modified in this transmission process. The material deriving from Plutarch in the reshaping of Apuleius fulfils for him simply the function of a paradigm of the pagan mediation pattern which is to be attacked and replaced by the idea of the mediation of Jesus Christ. 3.5 Jerome: An Implicit Polemic? In Against Jovinianus, written around 392–393ad, Jerome refers frequently to Plutarch inasmuch as the latter’s view serves his own rhetorical purposes in discussing the ethical question of the use of marriage.88 In a book that became popular at the time, Jovinian argued that virgins, widows, and married women represent equal states after the persons have been purified by baptism. Jerome responds to this exaltation of marriage with a critical work89 aiming to praise virginity as preferable to marriage,90 where Plutarch’s name is cited along with 86

87

88

89

90

Aug., Civ. 9.15.1: Proinde mediatorem inter nos et Deum et mortalitatem habere oportuit transeuntem et beatitudinem permanentem, ut per id, quod transit, congrueret morituris, et ad id, quod permanet, transferret ex mortuis. Aug., Civ. 9.15.2: “The immortal and miserable mediator interposes himself in order to prevent us from passing to a blessed immortality; for that which impedes our passage, namely misery itself, persists in him. But the mortal and blessed Mediator interposed Himself so that, having passed through mortality, He might take the dead immortal by the power which He showed in His own resurrection, and bestow upon the miserable the blessedness which He Himself had never relinquished” (tr. Dyson). This section relies on Bouton-Touboulic, “Présences,” 105–111. The context of Jerome’s refutation of Jovinian (whereas Ambrose or Augustine do not take such a harsh position against him), the structure of the writing, the four theses of Jovinian and the four contraarguments of Jerome are presented briefly by P. de Labriolle, Histoire de la littérature latine chrétienne, 2 vols. (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1947, 3rd ed.) 2.540–547. The virulence of Jerome’s critical approach to Jovinian is inscribed in the context of a “heresiological effort,” as Jerome was convinced that Jovinian was the father of a new heresy. He therefore used against him a series of topoi of anti-heretical discourse and associated him with Epicureism and Stoicism. (see D.G. Hunter, Marriage, Celibacy and Heresy in Ancient Christianity: The Jovinianist Controversy [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009], 232–233). In constructing his praise of virginity, Jerome also cautiously defends himself against possible accusations of the heresy of condemning marriage. See Adv. Iovin. 1.3, and the commentaries of E.T. Clark, Women in the Early Church (Wilmington, DE: Michael Clazier, 1983) 126.

plutarch’s reception in the church fathers

231

those of Aristotle and Seneca. Jerome’s intention is to prove the superiority of virginity over marriage; his hierarchy contains, in ascendant order: continent marriage, widowhood, and virginity.91 Along with arguments from Scripture and from Seneca’s lost treatise De matrimonio, he takes many examples from Plutarch’s Conjugalia praecaepta.92 He uses them in a polemic but at the same time ‘interested’ way, making them serve a totally different purpose. Indeed, Plutarch’s intention was to insist on marital harmony, whereas Jerome aims to defend asceticism in the form of virginity, seen in analogy to fasting, by showing the inconveniences of marriage and discouraging eminent people to marry. In Conjugalia praecepta 21, Plutarch draws a difference between two marriages: one happy and successful, because based on reasonability and virtue— that of Odysseus and Penelope—the other one unhappy, because based on the love of richness and pleasure—that of Helen and Paris. The latter “brings to Greeks and Barbarians an Iliad of evils”.93 Jerome does not mention the first couple, leaving aside any possible reflection on the virtues of Ulysses and Penelope. He only concentrates on the second example, favoring the topos of Helen being responsible for the ten-year-long war. Plutarch also drafts a list of Greek and Roman women worthy of being imitated, starting with Theano, the wife of Pythagoras.94 Among the cited examples, Timocleia, a virtuous wife of Thebes, is mentioned in several of Plutarch’s writings, including the Life of Alexander and the Virtues of Women.95 In Plutarch’s moral program, the enumeration serves a valorization of women, especially as wives, praised for their arête: For you cannot acquire and put upon you this rich woman’s pearls or that foreign woman’s silks without buying them at a high price, but the ornaments of Theano, Cleobulina, Gorgo, the wife of Leonidas, Timocleia, the sister of Theagenes, Claudia of old, Cornelia, daughter of Scipio, and of all

91

92 93 94 95

Jerome connects this hierarchy with the parable of different amount of fruits obtained from the different seeds in the parable of the sower (Mk 4:7–9, Mt 13:1–9, Lk 8:4–8): the thirtyfold fruits are associated with marriage, the sixtyfold with widowhood, and the onehundredfold with “the crown of virginity” (Adv. Iovin. 1.3, and Clark, Women in the Early Church, 127). On Plutarch’s vision on marriage, compared to the ancient philosophical and cultural background, see D.A. Russell, Plutarch (London: Duckworth, 1973) 90–91. Con. Praec. 140F: Ἰλιάδα κακῶν Ἕλλησι καὶ βαρβάροις ἐποίησεν—“created an ‘Iliad of woes’ for Greeks and Barbarians” (tr. Babbitt). See Bouton-Touboulic, “Présences,” 109. Con. Praec. 142C. Con. Praec. 145E. Cf. Alex. 12; Mul. virt. 259D–260D; Non posse 1093C.

232

huian

other women who have been admired and renowned, you may wear about you without price, and, adorning yourself with these, you may live a life of distinction and happiness.96 In turn, wanting to celebrate pudicitia at the end of Book i of Against Jovinianus, Jerome cites Plutarch’s enumeration of virtuous women in the very same order from Conjugalia praecepta: Imitentur ergo nuptae Theano, Cleobulinam, Gorguntem, Timoclian, Claudias atque Cornelias—“Let my married sisters copy the examples of Theano, Cleobuline, Gorgente, Timoclia, the Claudias and Cornelias.”97 Giving no detail about the identity of the Greek women, and deliberately omitting to mention the names of their husbands, Jerome presents this series of names which must have had “euphonic, exotic and paradigmatic value”98 for a Roman audience. Although he also previously associated names of virtuous Roman women, such as Cornelia or Porcia,99 with the virtue and fame of their husbands, Jerome quickly abandons this method in favor of a mysterious enchainment of feminine names whose biography is hidden under the overarching exaltation of “purity”.100 From these concise examples, we might suppose that Jerome had access to the work of Plutarch, either directly, or indirectly through compilations or other sources containing large passages from Plutarch. Jerome regards Plutarch certainly as an ‘authority’, but he takes the freedom to develop an ‘interpretation’ of this authoritative source, building in his text an immanent polemic through the way he selects and places the exempla in his argumentation.

96

97 98 99 100

Con. Praec. 145F (tr. Babbitt). “La valorisation de la femme, surtout de la femme-épouse, se retrouve ainsi chez Plutarque dans les Préceptes de mariage, et dans le Dialogue sur l’ Amour, comme dans le traité sur les Vertus de femmes.” In the last writing, “Le programme de Plutarque est de comparer, dans le domaine de l’ arété, femmes et hommes, programme étonnant dans le contexte de l’ hellénisme et même dans le contexte du monde romain du iie siècle après J.-C” (P. Schmitt Pantel, “Autour du traité de Plutarque Vertus de femmes [Gunaikôn Aretai],” Clio 30 [2009] 39–60 [46]). Adv. Iovin. 1.49. See Bouton-Touboulic, “Présences,” 110. Bouton-Touboulic, “Présences,” 110. Adv. Iovin. 1.49: Cornelia is “a fit match for Gracchus, Porcia for a second Brutus” (tr. Fremantle). Adv. Iovin. 1.49: “The virtue of woman is, in a special sense, purity” (tr. Fremantle).

plutarch’s reception in the church fathers

4

233

Conclusion

There are two poles in speaking of Plutarch’s reception in the Church Fathers. The maximalist approach will search for verbatim borrowings, hidden citations and references and will consider that Plutarch was used as an encyclopedia of Platonic thinking, of common views on ancient ethics, or authoritative statements in cosmology and philosophy.101 The minimalist or skeptical approach will consider most similarities between the Church Fathers and Plutarch to be rooted in the same cultural, literary, or philosophical topoi, taking us back finally to the Greek poets and to the dialogues of Plato, for example. Between these two poles a wide spectrum of attitudes can be ‘painted’.102 The methodical considerations at the beginning of the present study tried to offer a critical ground for the juxtaposition of ‘passages’ in Plutarch and in Church Fathers in order to address the question whether we can identify a generic influence (the strong hypothesis), or whether we are only dealing with common Platonic ‘language’ in different articulations, bringing about ‘family similarities’ in argumentation, concepts, subjects, and images (the light hypothesis). With the deployment and analysis of five case studies, I have tried to show that the works of Church Fathers offer material to argue sometimes for the first hypothesis (Basil, Jerome), other times for the second hypothesis (Gregory of Nazianzus), and that in some cases it is methodologically ‘wiser’ to ponder both hypotheses and to consider their possible applicability to different degrees (John Chrysostom, Augustine). An overarching view of these case studies allows the conclusion that references to Plutarch in the Church Fathers range from direct influence to implicit polemic, touching the treatment of ethical, cosmological, and theological topics. Beyond this particular analysis, the ‘landscape’ of Plutarch’s more or less visible presence in patristic writings offers formally and thematically a very vast horizon—a real challenge for the all-encompassing intention lying within the eye of the beholder.

101

102

In this sense, some say that Plutarch speaks “through the mouth” of the Fathers, especially in the case of Basil (see E. Fialon, Étude historique et littéraire de S. Basile [Paris: Durand, 1865] 191, cited by La Matina, “Plutarco,” 94). La Matina considers that reception should be treated differently: while the Cappadocians operate a thematic selection and use of Plutarch, Clement of Alexandria and Isidor of Pelusium rely on Plutarch as “an encyclopaedia of the classical world,” “as an inexhaustible source of information of all kinds” (“Plutarco,” 83).

234

huian

Bibliography Ancient Authors Athanase d’Alexandrie, Contre les Païens 39 (Sources Chrétiennes 18 bis, Paris: Cerf, 1977). Apuleius, Apologia; Florida; De Deo Socratis, Edited and translated by Christopher P. Jones (LCL 534, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2017). Apuleius, De Deo Socratis: Über den Gott des Sokrates, Eingeleitet, überstezt und mit interpretierenden Essays von M. Baltes, M.-L. Lakmann, J.M. Dillon, P. Donini, R. Häfner, L. Karfíková (Sapere 7, Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2004). Augustine, The City of God against the Pagans, ed. and translated by R.W. Dyson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015). Basilius von Cäsarea, Mahnreden, tr. Anton Stegman (Munich: Kösel Verlag, 1984). Basilio di Cesarea, Discorso ai giovani: Oratio ad Adolescentes, a cura di Mario Naldini (Bibliotheca Patristica 3, Florence: Nardini Editore, 1984). Saint Basil on the Value of Greek Literature, ed. N.G. Wilson, N.G. (London: Duckworth, 1975). St Basile, Aux jeunes gens: Sur la manière de tirer profit des lettres helléniques (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1965). Grégoire de Nazianze, Discours 27–31: Discours théologiques (Sources Chrétiennes 250, Paris: Cerf, 1979). Grégoire de Nazianze, Discours 1–3 (Sources Chrétiennes 247, Paris: Cerf, 1978). Hieronymus, Adversus Jovinianum Libri Duo (Migne, PL vol. 23, coll. 221–353, Paris: Garnier, 1883). Jerome, Against Jovinianus, English Translation: W.H. Fremantle, Nicene and PostNicene Fathers, Second Series, vol. 6 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1979) 346–416. Jean Chrysostome, Sur la vaine gloire et l’éducation des enfants, introd., texte critique, trad. et notes par A.M. Malingrey (Sources Chrétiennes 188, Paris: Cerf, 1972). John Chrysostom, Address on Vainglory and The Right Way for Parents to Bring Up their Children, translated by M.L.W. Laistner (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1951). Maximus Tyrius, Dissertationes, ed. Michael B. Trapp (Stuttgart: Teubner, 1994). Philo of Alexandria, On the creation (De Opificio Mundi); Allegorical interpretation (Legum Allegoriae), vol. i, tr. Colson & Whitaker, (LCL, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press/London: William Heinemann, 1929). Plutarch, The Obsolescence of Oracles (De defectu oraculorum), Moralia, vol. 5, tr. Babbitt (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press/London: William Heinemann, 1962). Plutarch, Advice to Bride and Groom (Conjugalia Praecepta), Moralia, vol. 2, tr. Babbitt (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press/London: William Heinemann, 1962).

plutarch’s reception in the church fathers

235

Plutarch, Bravery of Women (Mulierum Virtutes), Moralia, vol. 3, tr. Babbitt (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press/London: William Heinemann, 1961). Plutarch, Precepts of Statecraft (Praecepta gerendae reipublicae), Moralia, vol. 10, tr. Fowler (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press/London: William Heinemann, 1960). Plutarch, How the Young Man Should Study Poetry (De audiendis poetis), Moralia, vol. 1, tr. Babbitt (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press/London: William Heinemann, 1960).

Secondary Literature Alieva, O., “On Plutarch’s influence upon St. Basil’s Address to the Young on the Value of Greek Literature,” in The xx Annual theological conference of the Saint Tikhon Orthodox University of Humanities, vol. 1 (Moscow: PSTGU publisher, 2010) 232–236 [Published in Russian as: Алиева О. В. Влияние Плутарха на речь Василия Великого Ad adolescentes de legendis libris gentilium // В кн.: xx Ежегодная богословская конференция Православного Свято-Тихоновского гуманитарного университета Т. 1. М.: Издательство ПСТГУ, 2010. С. 232–236.] Made available in an English version at http://academia.edu. Andreau, J., Schnapp, A. & Schmitt, P., “Paul Veyne et l’évergétisme” Annales (HSS) 33/2 (1978) 307–325. Benneker, J., “Plutarch and Saint Basil as Readers of Greek Literature,” SyllClass 22 (2011) 95–111. Bouton-Touboulic, A.-I., “Présences des Moralia de Plutarque chez les auteurs chrétiens des ive et ve siècles,” Pallas 67 (2005) 95–113. Clark, E.T., Women in the Early Church (Wilmington, DE: Michael Clazier, 1983). Deferrari, R.J., “The Classics and the Greek Writers of the Early Church: Saint Basil,” CJ 13.8 (1918) 579–591. Derrida, J., Dissemination, tr. Barbara Johnson (London: The Athlone Press, 1981). D’Ippolito, G., “Basilio di Cesarea e la poesia graeca,” in Centro di Studi Umanistici (ed.), Basilio di Cesarea: la sua età, la sua opera e il basilianesimo in Sicilia: Atti del Congresso internazionale, Messina, 3–6 dicembre 1979 (Messina: Centro di Studi Umanistici, 1983) 309–379. Faye, E. de, Origène: Sa vie, son œuvre, sa pensée, 3 vols. (Paris: Leroux, 1923– 1928). Fialon, E., Étude historique et littéraire de S. Basile (Paris: Durand, 1865). Hirsch-Luipold, R., “Plutarch,” RAC 27 (2016) 1009–1037. Hirzel, R., Plutarch (Leipzig: Dieterich’sche Verlagsbuchhandlung Theodor Weicher, 1912). Hunter, D.G. Marriage, Celibacy and Heresy in Ancient Christianity: The Jovinianist Controversy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009).

236

huian

Kenney, J.P., Mystical Monotheism: A Study in Ancient Platonic Theology (Hanover/London: Brown University Press, 1991). Labriolle, P. de, Histoire de la littérature latine chrétienne, 2 vols. (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1947, 3rd ed.). La Matina, M., “Plutarco negli autori cristiani greci,” in I. Gallo (ed.), L’eredità culturale di Plutarco dall’antichità al Rinascimento: Atti del vii Convegno plutarcheo MilanoGargnano, 28–30 maggio 1997 (Naples: D’Auria, 1998) 81–110. Most, G., “What Ancient Quarrel between Philosophy and Poetry?” in P. Destrée & F.G. Herrmann (eds.), Plato and the Poets (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2011) 1–20. Nuffelen, P. Van, “Words of Truth: Mystical Silence as a Philosophical and Rhetorical Tool in Plutarch,” in B. Castelnérac (ed.), Philosophia and Philologia: Plutarch on Oral and Written Language, Hermathena 182 (2007) 9–39. Pépin, J., “Falsi mediatores duo: Aspects de la médiation dans le sermon d’Augustin Contra Paganos (S. Dolbeau 26),” in G. Madec (ed.), Augustin prédicateur (395–411): Actes du Colloque International du Chantilly, 5–7 Septembre 1996. Collection des Études Augustiniennes (Série Antiquité 159, Turnhout: Brepols, 1998) 395–417. Richard, A., Cosmologie et théologie chez Grégoire de Nazianze. Collection des Études Augustiniennes (Série Antiquité 169, Turnhout: Brepols, 2003). Russell, D.A., Plutarch (London: Duckworth, 1973). Sandmel, S., “Parallelomania,” JBL 81 (1962) 1–13. Schmitt Pantel, P., “Autour du traité de Plutarque Vertus de femmes (Gunaikôn Aretai),” Clio 30 (2009) 39–60. Veyne, P., Le pain et le cirque, sociologie religieuse d’un pluralisme politique (Paris: Le Seuil, 1976). Xenophontos, S. & Oikonomopoulou, K. (eds.), Brill’s Companion to the Reception of Plutarch (Leiden: Brill, 2019). Zuiderhoek, A., The Politics of Munificence in the Roman Empire: Citizens, Elites and Benefactors in Asia Minor (Cambridge/New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009).

chapter 11

Plutarch of Chaeronea, Clement of Alexandria and the Bio- and Technomorphic Aspects of Creation Lautaro Roig Lanzillotta

As a good Platonist, Clement of Alexandria knew his Plato well.1 The references to Plato’s dialogues are numerous, since they provide support to many a point made by the Alexandrian theologian, be it in theology or cosmology, ethics or epistemology.2 Among them, Plato’s reference to the first cause as “maker and father” (Timaeus 28C2–3) occupies a special place in Clement’s corpus.3 It is well known that this passage of Plato’s Timaeus reverberated throughout all later authors.4 This central statement of Plato’s ontology, however, was interpreted quite differently in Late Antiquity. To begin with, there was a general

1 Studies of the first part of the 20th century tend to downplay Clement’s positive attitude towards Greek philosophy and the influence he might have received from it. Thus for example A.C. Outler, “The Platonism of Clement of Alexandria,” The Journal of Religion 20 (1940) 217– 240; W. Völker, Der wahre Gnostiker nach Clemens Alexandrinus (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1952); or E. von Ivanka, Plato Christianus: Übernahme und Umgestaltung des Platonismus durch die Väter (Einsiedeln: Johannes Verlag, 1964). However, we see a more balanced position already in H. Chadwick, Early Christian Thought and the Classical Tradition: Studies in Justin, Clement, and Origen (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1966) 31–65. The breakthrough regarding Clement’s debt to Plato and Platonism, however, arrived with the work of S. Lilla, Clement of Alexandria: A Study in Christian Platonism and Gnosticism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971). In this vein, cf. D. Wyrwa, Die christliche Platonaneignung in den Stromateis des Clemens von Alexandrien (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 1983); A. van den Hoek, Clement of Alexandria and his use of Philo in the Stromateis: An Early Christian Reshaping of a Jewish Model (Leiden: Brill, 1988); E.F. Osborn, Clement of Alexandria (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005). 2 See L. Roig Lanzillotta, “La recepción de Platón, Timaeus 28C en Clemente de Alejandría,” in P. de Navascués Benlloch et al. (eds.), Filiación 6: Cultura pagana, religión de Israel, orígenes del cristianismo (Madrid: Trotta, 2016) 259–280 (263). 3 See Wyrwa, Die christliche Platonaneignung, 278–279. 4 Pl., Ti. 28C 3–5 indeed shows up in a wide spectrum of later authors, both pagan and Christian. Given the recurrence of Plato’s sentence in Christian apologetic literature, J. Opsomer posited that it is plausible that more than one florilegium included it already in the first centuries ce (see J. Opsomer, “Demiurges in Early Imperial Platonism,” in R. Hirsch-Luipold [ed.], Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch: Götterbilder—Gottesbilder—Weltbilder [Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005] 51–100).

© Lautaro Roig Lanzillotta, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004505070_013

238

roig lanzillotta

tendency to interpret the passage theologically.5 Second, if, according to some (e.g., Philo), the descriptions “maker” and “father” referred to one and the same deity, others (Numenius, Alcinous, Plotinus) tended to establish a sharper distinction between them and attributed both attributes to different deities.6 At a middle point between both positions, Plutarch’s cosmotheology tends to distinguish between biomorphic and technomorphic aspects of creation and attributes them to different divine persons, namely God and His daughter, the World Soul. Over the past few decades, it has become more and more obvious that Clement also knew his Philo. Wolfson, Lilla, Van den Hoek, and Runia have indeed sufficiently emphasized his dependence on Philo of Alexandria:7 he not only read Philo but probably also had some of his books on his desk.8 Precisely because of this alleged dependence, it is most surprising that Clement’s reception of Plato’s Timaeus does not seem to follow Philo’s—as one might expect— but rather Plutarch’s interpretation. Despite affirming God’s unity, along with Philo, Clement tends to distinguish, along with Plutarch, the biomorphic and technomorphic aspects of this deity.9 In my view, this is due, on the one hand, to the fact that Plato’s ontological model already shows in Plutarch the tendency to develop towards a theological model, an aspect that was very convenient for Clement’s theology. On the other hand, Plutarch’s interpretation provided Clement with an excellent precedent in order to affirm both the instrumentality of the Logos, God’s Son, in the knowledge of the Father, and the indissoluble unity between Father and Son. 5 See M. Baltes, C. Pietsch & H. Dörrie, Die philosophische Lehre des Platonismus, 7.1: Theologia Platonica (Stuttgart/Bad Cannstadt: Frommann-Holzboog, 2008) 572–580. On the Middle Platonic process of theologization of the Platonic heritage, see also F. Ferrari, “Dottrina delle idee nel medioplatonismo,” in F. Fronterotta & W. Leszl (eds.), Eidos—Idea: Platone, Aristotele e la tradizione platonica (Sankt Augustin: Academia, 2005) 233–246 (240). 6 See for example Proclus’ criticism of Numenius (In Ti. 1.304.13–16) for his attribution of both aspects of Plato’s sentence to different divine persons. For Alcinous, see J. Whittaker & P. Louis, Alcinoos: Enseignement des doctrines de Platon (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1990) 104. 7 H.A. Wolfson, The Philosophy of the Church Fathers: Faith, Trinity, Incarnation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1956); R. Mortley, Coinnassance religieuse et herméneutique chez Clément d’Alexandrie (Leiden: Brill, 1973) 5–11; Lilla, Clement of Alexandria; Van den Hoek, Clement of Alexandria and His Use of Philo; D.T. Runia, Philo in Early Christian Literature: A Survey (Assen: Royal Van Gorcum/Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1993) 132–156 (esp. 134–135). 8 Runia, Philo in Early Christian Literature, 132, 135. See also A. Van den Hoek, “How Alexandrian was Clement of Alexandria? Reflections on Clement and his Alexandrian Background,” Heythrop Journal 31 (1990) 179–194 (190). 9 On the technomorphic model, see E. Topitsch, Vom Ursprung und Ende der Metaphysik (Vienna: Springer, 1958) and E. Topitsch, Gottwerdung und Revolution: Beiträge zur Weltanschauungsanalyse und Ideologiekritik (Munich: Verlag Dokumentation, 1973) 16–46.

the bio- and technomorphic aspects of creation

239

In the ensuing pages, I intend to develop my point in three main sections. After presenting the Platonic context of the theological discussion on the nature of God in the first part, the second will delve into Plutarch’s and Clement’s theology. I will analyze their reception of Plato’s Timaeus in order, first, to establish their similarities and differences, and then to examine how this reception fits in with their own theological frameworks. After that, in the third section, we will be able to determine whether we can affirm that Clement’s reception of Plato depends on Plutarch’s interpretation.

1

The Platonic Context of the Discussion on the Nature of God

Plato’s Timaeus 28C2–5 is among the most-cited passages in ancient theological literature.10 Beside the fact that the Timaeus had become a reference book for cosmological, theological and anthropological issues in Late Antiquity,11 the passage mentions the two central aspects of the theological discussion of late antiquity: God’s nature on the one hand and, on the other, His cognoscibility.12 Indeed, according to Timaeus 28C2–5: τὸν μὲν οὖν ποιητὴν καὶ πατέρα τοῦδε τοῦ παντὸς εὑρεῖν τε ἔργον καὶ εὑρόντα εἰς πάντας ἀδύνατον λέγειν· Now to discover the Maker and Father of this Universe were a task indeed; and having discovered Him, to declare Him unto all men were a thing impossible.13

10

11

12

13

For the reception of Plato’s sentence, see A.J. Festugière, La Révélation d’Hermes Trismegiste 4 (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1954); Whittaker & Louis, Alcinoos, 104; Baltes et al., Theologia Platonica, 572–580. See also F. Ferrari, “Gott als Vater und Schöpfer: Zur Rezeption von Timaios 28c3–5 bei einigen Platonikern,” in F. Albrecht & R. Feldmeier (eds.), The Divine Father: Religious and Philosophical Concepts of Divine Parenthood in Antiquity (Leiden: Brill, 2014) 57–71 (60). As M. Baltes, “Numenios von Apamea und der Platonische Timaios,” Vigiliae Christianae 29 (1975) 241–270 (241), points out, the interpretative tradition around Plato’s sentence is very large and we know it only in a very incomplete and fragmented way. Plato’s exact wording (Ti. 28C3–5) ποιητὴς καὶ πατήρ (“maker and Father”) can be found in Celsus apud Origen, Cels. 7.42.4–5; Apul., Pl. 1.5.191 and the Hermetic text transmitted by Stob. 2.9.4. English translation by R.G. Bury, Timaeus. Critias. Cleitophon. Menexenus. Epistles (Cambridge, MA/London: Harvard University Press, 1920).

240

roig lanzillotta

Even if the context of this sentence is the discussion of the “first cause” (28A4–6, ὑπ’ αἰτίου τινὸς), the expression “maker and father” was, in antiquity, unanimously interpreted as a reference to God.14 Coherently, its second part was interpreted—in any case from Cicero onwards—to be the affirmation of His incognoscibility, even though in Plato’s dialogue Timaeus does not deny the possibility of knowing God, but simply presents metaphysics as a subject appropriate only for the few.15 As we focus now on the period relevant to the study of Clement of Alexandria, several Middle Platonic authors also comment upon Plato’s passage: Philo of Alexandria,16 Plutarch,17 Numenius,18 Atticus,19 Harpocration,20 and Alcinous mention the passage explicitly.21 This wide attestation has led some to postulate that the sentence already belonged to Platonic tradition in the first century bce. Indeed, C. Lévy points to traces of the formula in Cicero, and M. Bonazzi thinks, more speculatively, that Eudorus most probably dealt with the passage.22 According to F. Ferrari, this could also explain the inversion of

14 15

16

17 18 19 20 21

22

See above n. 5. Ferrari, “Gott als Vater,” 58: “Während der zweite Teil dieser Behauptung der Formulierung der negativen Theologie zugrunde lag, hatte der erste Teil, dessen Wirkungsgeschichte viel weniger erforscht worden ist, eine entscheidende Rolle in der Entstehung der ontologischen und theologischen Hierarchien der Platoniker der ersten Jahrhunderte der Kaiserzeit gespielt, sowohl der Neoplatoniker als auch der Mittelplatoniker.” As is well-known, Philo quotes Plato’s sentence indiscriminately, preserving the same order as Plato (in 21 passages) or inverting the terms of the sentence (also 21 cases). As to the former, the passages are: Opif. 7; Post. 175; Conf. 144.170; Her. 98.236; Fug. 177; Abr. 58; Decal. 105; Spec. 1.34; 2.6; 3.199; 4.180; Virt. 34.64.77; Legat. 293; Prov. 2.62.72; QG 2.34; QE 2.33. As to the latter: Opif. 10.21; Her. 200; Pug. 84; Abr. 9; Mos. 1.158; 2.48.256; Decal. 51; Spec. 2.256; 3.178.189; Praem. 24.32; Contempl. 90; Aet. 15; Legat. 115; QG 1.58; 4.130; fr. 10. On the issue, see D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato (Leiden: Brill, 1986) 150–154. Cf. Plu., Quaest. Plat. 1001AB, with L. Roig Lanzillotta, “Dios como padre y artífice en Moralia de Plutarco,” in de Navascués Benlloch et al. (eds.), Filiación 5, 150–154. See Numenius, fr. 26. See also Baltes, “Numenios von Apamea,” 264. See Procl., In Ti. 1.305.6–16. On Harpocration’s split of the divine unity in the wake of Numenius and against his teacher Atticus, see Procl., In Ti. 1.304.22–305.6. See P.L. Donini, “La connaissance de dieu et la hiérarchie divine chez Albinos,” in id. & M. Bonazzi (eds.), Commentary and Tradition: Aristotelianism, Platonism, and PostHellenistic Philosophy (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2011) 423–436. Cf. C. Lévy, “Cicero and the Timaeus,” in G. Reydams-Schils (ed.), Plato’s Timaeus as Cultural Icon (Notre Dame, IN: Notre Dame University Press, 2003) 95–110 (100–103); M. Bonazzi, “Eudoro di Alessandria alle origini del platonismo imperiale,” in id. & V. Celluprica (eds.), L’eredità platonica: Studi sul platonismo da Arcesilao a Proclo (Naples: Bibliopolis, 2005) 115–160 (118–127).

the bio- and technomorphic aspects of creation

241

the formula from ποιητὴς καὶ πατήρ to πατὴρ καὶ ποιητής that is widely attested to in the reception of Plato’s Timaeus.23 As has already been posited, later Platonic tradition understood Timaeus’ sentence unanimously as a reference to God. Consensus stops there, however, since there are various opinions regarding the exact meaning of the phrase “maker and father.” We can distinguish two interpretative groups: whereas the sentence referred to one single divinity for Philo, Plutarch, Maximus of Tyre,24 Apuleius,25 Longinus,26 and Atticus,27 this passage clearly distinguished two divinities, according to Numenius, Harpocration, Alcinous, Porphyry, and Plotinus.28 For them, the term “father” (πατήρ) referred to the highest God, the transcendent divinity, while the term “maker” (ποιητής) referred to a second divinity, the demiurge or “creator” God. In this paper I will only deal with the first interpretative group, referring to the second group only occasionally. As already pointed out above, independently of the interpretation that both groups gave to the first part of the sentence, the second was generally interpreted as the affirmation of God’s incognoscibility. This is striking, since one would expect that authors claiming a unitary interpretation would at the same time affirm the possibility of knowing the divinity. Be that as it may, this reading, which seems to go back to Cicero, who asserted in Timaeo patrem huius mundi nominare neget posse,29 would play an important role in the develop-

23 24 25 26

27 28 29

Ferrari, “Gott als Vater,” 60–61. For Philo’s indistinct use of the sentence with its original or in inverted order, see above n. 16. Cf. Max. Tyr., Or. 11.12, with Festugière, La Révélation 4, 112–113; see also Opsomer, “Demiurges,” 77 n. 139. Cf. Apuleius, Pl. 1.5.190, with Festugière, La Révélation 4, 102–109; Opsomer, “Demiurges,” 77–78 n. 140. See also Apul., Apol. 64; Socr. 123; 124. See M. Frede, “La teoría de las ideas de Longino,” Methexis 3 (1990) 85–98 (91–92), and I. Männlein-Robert, Longin: Philologe und Philosoph: Eine Interpretation der erhaltenen Zeugnisse (Munich: K.G. Saur, 2001) 538–539, on Longinus and his views on God and the Demiurge. See also Opsomer, “Demiurges,” 78, with n. 143. Attic., fr. 9.35–43 (Eus., PE 13.5.1–6); see also 28.7–8 (Procl., In Ti. 1.394.8). According to Opsomer, “Demiurges,” 78 n. 143, this group might also have included Galenus. On Cicero’s interpretation and his influence on the later development of negative theology, see H. Chadwick, “Review Wolfson,” CR 63 (1949) 24. In his wake J. Whittaker, “Plutarch, Platonism, and Christianity,” in A.H. Armstrong, H.J. Blumenthal & R.A. Markus (eds.), Neoplatonism and Early Christian Thought: Essays in Honour of A.H. Armstrong (London: Variorum, 1981) 50–63 (50–51); J. Whittaker, “ἄρρετος καὶ ἀκατονόμαστος,” in id., Studies in Platonism and Patristic Thought (London: Variorum, 1984) xii, 305; and F. Ferrari, “Dio padre ed artifice: La teologia di Plutarco in Pla. Qu. 2,” in I. Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la religione: Atti del vi Convegno plutarcheo Ravello 1995 (Naples: Bibliopolis, 1996) 395–409 (396, n. 4).

242

roig lanzillotta

ment of the negative theology so characteristic of the period,30 something that was facilitated by combining the Timaeus with Plato’s Letter 7 (341CD).

2

The Reception of Plato’s Timaeus in Philo, Plutarch, and Clement

Before proceeding to the analysis of Plutarch’s and Clement’s reception of Timaeus 28C, I will focus on Philo, an important author due both to his interpretation of the passage and to his influence on Christianity in general and on Clement in particular.31 The passage from Timaeus 28C appears over and over again in Philo, who interprets the expression ποιητὴς καὶ πατήρ as a reference to one single divinity.32 This is the reason why he does not pay attention to the order of the elements of the sentence and, indiscriminately, quotes it either way. Indeed, half of the passages call God ποιητὴς καὶ πατήρ,33 while the other half preserves πατὴρ καὶ ποιητής without exhibiting any particular difference with regard to meaning, even if Philo was certainly aware of the biomorphic and technomorphic aspects of the sentence (De opificio 10): … τοῦ μὲν γὰρ γεγονότος ἐπιμελεῖσθαι τὸν πατέρα καὶ ποιητὴν αἱρεῖ λόγος· καὶ γὰρ πατὴρ ἐκγόνων καὶ δημιουργὸς τῶν δημιουργηθέντων στοχάζεται τῆς διαμονῆς καὶ ὅσα μὲν ἐπιζήμια καὶ βλαβερὰ μηχανῇ πάσῃ διωθεῖται …34 For it stands to reason that what has been brought into existence should be cared for by its Father and Maker. For, as we know, it is a father’s aim in regard of his offspring and an artificer’s in regard of his handiwork to preserve them, and by every means to fend off from them aught that may entail loss or harm.35

30

31 32 33 34 35

Cf. J. Whittaker, “Neopythagorean and Negative Theology,” SO 44 (1969) 109–125; J.D. Turner, Sethian Gnosticism and the Platonic Tradition (Quebec: Peeters, 2001); M.A. Williams, “Negative Theologies and Demiurgical Myths in Late Antiquity,” in J.D. Turner & R. Majercik (eds.), Gnosticism and Later Platonism: Themes, Figures, and Texts (Atlanta, GA: SBL Press, 2001) 277–302. See Runia, Philo and the Early Christian Fathers, 212. See for example Abr. 57–59, on which A.D. Nock, “The Exegesis of Tim. 28C,” Vigiliae Christianae 16 (1962) 79–86 (82); also Opif. 36; 68; 138–139; Lg. All. 1.77; 2.3; 3.76; Mut. 47. See above n. 16. Cf. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, 109–110. English translation by F.H. Colson & G.A. Whitaker in Philo i (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1929).

the bio- and technomorphic aspects of creation

243

For Philo, both aspects are sides of the same divine coin.36 As to the first, in line with Gen 1–3, where God’s activity is described with the verb ποιεῖν (make), God is for him, first of all, the Maker of the universe. In this sense, in addition to the term ποιητής, Philo also uses δημιουργός “creator, producer,” πλάστης “moulder, modeller,” κτίστης “founder, constructor” and τεχνίτης “artificer, craftsman.” Due to the fact that the term “demiurge” tended to depict God as a manual worker,37 Philo elevates God’s function to that of an architect in De opificio 16–18.38 As to the second aspect, God is for Philo—also in line with the LXX, even if the Pentateuch does not provide much support for it—the Father.39 In addition to the term πατήρ, which underlines God’s fatherlike traits in His relationship with human beings, he also uses other terms emphasizing His biological relationship, such as γεννητής “begetter,”40 and φυτουργός “planter,”41 which again shows the indissoluble union between the notions Father and Maker. Philo pays no attention to the second part of the sentence, namely the part that in later tradition affirmed God’s unknowability.42 According to Runia, this is due to the fact that Philo distinguishes between God’s existence, knowable, and God’s essence, not knowable.43 But this attitude is not exclusive to Philo and appears in many other Middle Platonists such as Alcinous, Apuleius, Maximus, Celsus, and Numenius, who apply the quattuor viae (via eminentiae, via analogiae, via negativa, via imitationis) to affirm the knowledge of God’s existence, but at the same time deny the possibility of achieving even an idea of His essence. God’s essence could only be reached by combining philosophy as an initiation to the mysteries with the final epopteia or mystical experience.44 Let us now take a look at Plutarch’s interpretation, which I have analyzed in extenso elsewhere.45 I will, however, offer a short summary of his position, 36 37 38

39 40 41 42 43 44 45

See also Spec. 1.41; Aet. 15. In general, see W. Theiler, “Demiourgos,” RAC 3 (1957) 694–711. Philo, De opif. 16–18, compares the creation of the cosmos with building a city and then presents God as an architect who brings to practice his plans. See cf. H.F. Weiss, Untersuchungen zur Kosmologie des hellenistischen und palästinischen Judentums (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1966) 42–52; Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, 108. See Dt 21:18–21; 32:6. See Philo, Aet. 1; Praem. 46. See Philo, Deus 30. Interestingly, there are no references in the Philonian corpus to the second part of Plato’s sentence; see e.g. Spec. 1.32–35. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, 112. Besides Philo and Plutarch, see Theon of Smyrna, Expositio 14.18–16.2 (Hiller) and Clem. Al., Strom. 1.176.1–2. See Roig Lanzillotta, “Dios como padre y artífice,” passim.

244

roig lanzillotta

since it will help us to understand Clement’s interpretation. In line with Philo, Plutarch considered that by means of the expression “Father and Maker,” Plato indicated one single divinity. In contrast to Philo, however, Plutarch thinks that Plato did not use two terms for nothing: The terms “father” and “maker” in fact were meant to refer to different aspects of the same divine person.46 The second Platonic Question deals with the issue at large: after revising and finally discarding three possible interpretations of the expression, Plutarch states in a fourth that the first element, “maker,” equates God’s creative act with His “ordering” activity, when he imparted order to chaotic matter. As for the second element, “father,” this is to be explained by His biological relationship to the World Soul: In fact, after bringing order to the chaotic pre-cosmic soul, he shared with her His intellect (νοῦς) and rationality (λογισμός), as a result of which the World Soul can be considered a part of himself, namely His daughter.47 Admittedly, Plutarch never conceives of Plato’s expression as a reference to two different divine entities. For him, the terms “father” and “maker” describe diverse aspects of the same divine person. He does, however, go a step further than Philo, since his clear distinction in terms of divine functions prefigures the theological dualism which one finds later in Middle Platonism with the development of a demiurge figure. According to Plutarch, it is by means of His “daughter,” namely the World Soul, that the Father transmits His ordering to matter.48 The fact that God creates (i.e., “brings order to”) matter, not directly but by means of Her instrument, through the World Soul by transmitting to it His intelligibility, shows that Plutarch is attempting to free God from all direct contact with the tangible world, that he is attempting to elevate him to the transcendent realm beyond the generation and corruption of the lower physical world. As has been consequently pointed out, in this interpretation of the Timaeus in the Platonic Questions, we might see the Plutarchan version of the demiurge, the creator God current in Middle Platonism later on. In this sense, Plutarch takes the first step towards an unfolding of the divine that is completed in Numenius.49 In support of this view, there is also the fact that Plutarch seems

46

47 48 49

On Plutarch, see also Ferrari, “Dio padre ed artifice,” 402; F. Ferrari, “Der Gott Plutarchs und der Gott Platons,” in Hirsch-Luipold (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch, 13–26; Opsomer, “Demiurges.” Cf. Roig Lanzillotta, “Dios como padre y artifice,” passim. Plu., De an. procr. 1013E; Quaest. Plat. 1003A. Cf. Opsomer, “Demiurges,” 91–92, in reference to Plu., Quaest. Plat. 1003AB. For Numenius, see Baltes, “Numenios von Apameia,” 264–265.

the bio- and technomorphic aspects of creation

245

to endow the World Soul—the pre-cosmic soul “ordered” by the “Maker and Father”—with a demiurgic function,50 which could be concluded from his use of the verb ἐδημιούργει “created,” in Platonic Question iv,51 and διακεκόσμηκεν “made orderly,” at the end of De animae procr. in Timaeo.52 The same interpretation of the first part of Plato’s sentence can be found not only in other Middle Platonists, such as Atticus,53 Maximus of Tyre, Apuleius, and Longinus,54 but also in Christian Platonists such as Clement of Alexandria, who echoes Plato’s sentence repeatedly. As in Philo, the order of the terms does not seem to imply any difference in meaning, since he alternates the expression ποιητὴς καὶ πατήρ with πατὴρ καὶ ποιητής55 and sometimes uses the term δημιουργός “creator,” both as a substitute for ποιητής and as simply a reference to God.56 In line with both Philo and Plutarch, Clement regularly interprets both aspects of Plato’s sentence as a reference to one and the same divinity. Interestingly, Stromata deliberately attempts to harmonize the biomorphic and technomorphic aspects in order to affirm creatio ex nihilo: αὖθίς τε ὁπόταν εἴπῃ ‘τὸν μὲν οὖν ποιητὴν καὶ πατέρα τοῦδε τοῦ παντὸς εὑρεῖν τε ἔργον’, οὐ μόνον γενητὸν [τε] ἔδειξεν τὸν κόσμον, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐξ αὐτοῦ γεγονέναι σημαίνει καθάπερ υἱόν, πατέρα δὲ αὐτοῦ κεκλῆσθαι, ὡς ἂν ἐκ μόνου γενομένου καὶ ἐκ μὴ ὄντος ὑποστάντος.57

50

51 52 53

54 55 56 57

Cf. J. Dillon, “The Role of the Demiurge in Platonic Theology,” in A.Ph. Segonds & C. Steel (eds.), Proclus et la theologie platonicienne: Actes du Colloque International de Louvain (13– 16 mai 1998) en l’ honneur de H.D. Saffrey et L.G. Westerink (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2000) 339–349 (341–342). Plu., Quaest. Plat. 1003AB. Plu., De an. procr. 1030C. Atticus (Procl., In Ti. 1.305.6–16) seems to have stated the same divine unity behind the Timaeus passage. Not only his fr. 9.35–43 (Des Places) transmitted by Eusebius (PE 15.3.1– 6), but also Proclus’ attack, who criticizes the philosopher for confusing what is good with the Good, its principle (Procl., In Ti. 1.359.22–360.4.), point in this direction: Νοήσας γὰρ θεὸν πρὸς αὐτὰ τῶν ἁπάντων ‘πατέρα καὶ δημιουργὸν’ καὶ δεσπότην καὶ κηδεμόνα, καὶ γνωρίζων ἐκ τῶν ἔργων τὸν τεχνίτην … See above ns. 24–26. The former corresponds to Plato’s formula and appears in Strom. 5.7.1; 2.78.3; 5.92.3. With the latter, inverted form appears Strom. 5.78.1 and Prt. 6.1.4. Plato’s term in the Timaeus indeed had already become in Philo’s time a terminus technicus to designate God. See, Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus, 108. Clem. Al., Strom. 5.92.3.

246

roig lanzillotta

Again, when he (sc. Plato) says, “It is a difficult task to find the Maker and Father of this universe,” he not only showed that the universe was created, but points out that it was generated by him as a son, and that he is called its father, as deriving its being from him alone, and springing from non-existence.58 God’s unity is a central theme in Clement’s theology and appears repeatedly in his anti-gnostic polemic, in his description of divine perfection, and in his assessment of the Logos’ monadic character.59 He even rejects the distinction by some interpreters of Plato’s theology, who distinguished between God and the good. This point is central to his attack against Marcion’s theological dualism that distinguished between the righteous and the good God. As he affirms in his Stromata, God’s justice is inseparable from God’s goodness:60 ἐπεὶ καὶ ὁ θεός, οὐχ ᾗ φύσει ἀγαθός ἐστι, ταύτῃ μένει μακάριος καὶ ἄφθαρτος, ‘οὔτε πράγματ’ ἔχων οὔτε ἄλλῳ παρέχων’, ποιῶν δὲ ἰδίως ἀγαθά, θεὸς ὄντως καὶ πατὴρ ἀγαθὸς ὤν τε καὶ γινόμενος ἐν ἀδιαλείπτοις εὐποιίαις, ἐν ταὐτότητι τῆς ἀγαθωσύνης γινόμενος ἐν ἀδιαλείπτοις εὐποιίαις, ἐν ταὐτότητι τῆς ἀγαθωσύνης ἀπαραβάτως μένει. τί γὰρ ὄφελος ἀγαθοῦ μὴ ἐνεργοῦντος μηδὲ ἀγαθύνοντος;61 Since also God Himself remains blessed and immortal, neither molested nor molesting another; not in consequence of being by nature good, but in consequence of doing good in a manner peculiar to Himself. God being essentially, and proving Himself actually, both Father and good, continues immutably in the self-same goodness. For what is the use of good that does not act and do good?62

58 59

60 61 62

Translation by P. Schaff, Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 2 (Grand Rapids, MI: Christian Classics Ethereal Library, 1885) 466. Cf. L. Rizzerio, “L’accès à la transcendance divine selon Clément d’Alexandrie: dialectique platonicienne ou expérience de l’ ‘union chrétienne,’” Revue des Études Augustiniennes 44 (1998) 159–179 (165–166). Clem. Al., Paed. 1.70.1; 4.29.1; 7.73.4. For the discussion of God’s unity in the context of antignostic polemics, see Strom. 2.98.1–3; 4.91.1–92.1. Clem. Al., Strom. 6.104.3. Translation by Schaff, Ante-Nicene Fahers, 844. For the notion of God’s goodness in Late Antiquity and the reception of Timaeus 29E, see L. Roig Lanzillotta, “Plutarch’s Idea of God in the Religious and Philosophical Context of Late Antiquity,” in L. Roig Lanzillotta & I. Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious and Philosophical Discourse of Late Antiquity (Leiden: Brill, 2012) 137–150 (144–149).

the bio- and technomorphic aspects of creation

247

In Protrepticus 6.68.1, however, Clement uses the sentence from Plato’s Timaeus to focus on God’s ineffability: Πῇ δὴ οὖν ἐξιχνευτέον τὸν θεόν, ὦ Πλάτων; ‘Τὸν γὰρ πατέρα καὶ ποιητὴν τοῦδε τοῦ παντὸς εὑρεῖν τε ἔργον καὶ εὑρόντα εἰς ἅπαντας ἐξειπεῖν ἀδύνατον’. Διὰ τί δῆτα, ὢ πρὸς αὐτοῦ; ‘Ῥητέον γὰρ οὐδαμῶς ἐστίν’. Εὖ γε, ὦ Πλάτων, ἐπαφᾶσαι τῆς ἀληθείας· ἀλλὰ μὴ ἀποκάμῃς·κξύν μοι λαβοῦ τῆς ζητήσεως τἀγαθοῦ πέρι· πᾶσιν γὰρ ἁπαξαπλῶς ἀνθρώποις, μάλιστα δὲ τοῖς περὶ λόγους ἐνδιατρίβουσιν ἐνέστακταί τις ἀπόρροια θεϊκή. Οὗ δὴ χάριν καὶ ἄκοντες μὲν ὁμολογοῦσιν ἕνα τε εἶναι θεόν, ἀνώλεθρον καὶ ἀγένητον τοῦτον, ἄνω που περὶ τὰ νῶτα τοῦ οὐρανοῦ ἐν τῇ ἰδίᾳ καὶ οἰκείᾳ περιωπῇ ὄντως ὄντα ἀεί. How, then, is God to be searched out, O Plato? “For both to find the Father and Maker of this universe is a work of difficulty; and having found Him, to declare Him fully, is impossible.” Why so? By Himself, I beseech you! For He can by no means be expressed. Well done, Plato! Thou hast touched on the truth. But do not flag. Undertake with me the inquiry respecting the Good. For into all men whatever, especially those who are occupied with intellectual pursuits, a certain divine effluence has been instilled; wherefore, though reluctantly, they confess that God is one, indestructible, unbegotten, and that somewhere above in the tracts of heaven, in His own peculiar appropriate eminence, whence He surveys all things, He has an existence true and eternal.63 As is also the case in two passages of the Stromata,64 we see here how the combination of Tim. 28 C and Letter 7 341CD65 is used in order to stress both God’s unity and the human capacity, despite God’s unknowability, and in order to accept God’s existence. Clement, however, inverts the terms, focusing first on God’s ineffability by referring to the Seventh Letter and then mentioning the unity, the eminence of God the Maker and Father of Tim. 28C. True, God’s ineffability belonged to the definition of the divinity ever since Plato’s Parmenides and was a central axiom of Middle Platonic theology. For Clement, however, 63 64 65

Translation by Schaff, Ante-Nicene Fathers, 920–921. See Clem. Al., Strom. 5.78.1; 5.92.3. Early Christian literature widely quotes Timaeus 28C, mainly as support to the idea of the ineffability of God. See for example Just., 2 Apol. 10.6; Athenag., Leg. 6.3; Or., Cels. 7.42; Tertullianus, Anim. 4.1; Apol. 46.4; Minucius Felix, Octav. 19.14; Ps.-Clem., Recogn. 8.20; Ps.-Just., Cohort. 38.2; Lactantius, Ira 11.11, Inst. 1.8.1; Eus., PE 11.29.3–4. On the issue, see M. Herrero de Jáuregui, The Protrepticus of Clement of Alexandria: A Commentary (Diss. Bologna: Università di Bologna, 2008) 200.

248

roig lanzillotta

it now has a new dimension due to its combination with his own conception of the Logos. I am of course referring to Clement’s view that knowledge of the Father is only possible through the Son. Both as an ontological element and as a historical person, the Logos plays a central role in the knowledge and revelation of the Father,66 and Clement can therefore call it (or Him) “teacher” and describe its (or His) activity as “teaching.”67 Let us now, with an eye to the space allotted, move to the three stages of the Logos as metaphysical (i.e., ontological) principle distinguished in Clement of Alexandria by Salvatore Lilla: a) in the first stage, the Logos is the mind of God and, as such, includes His ideas; b) in the second, the Logos is God’s hypostasis, distinct from the first principle but including the thoughts of God, which means that it can be considered arche in the creation of the sensible world;68 and c) in the third phase, the Logos becomes immanent in the world.69 Clement insists that none of these three stages implies the fractioning of God’s pristine unity, since the Logos is always seen as a constitutive part of the Father. If, in the first stage, God and His knowledge are the same, in the second, we see a split between both, although the Logos shares God’s intellect and can transmit it to the lower realms of being. In the third stage, it finally becomes the rationality of the world. In my view, we see in Clement’s conception of this a theological replica of Plutarch’s ontological model, in which the intellect of the father is shared by His daughter, the World Soul, who is then able to transmit it to matter. Admittedly, there are some differences due to either the acceptance (in Clement) or the rejection (in Plutarch) of the creatio ex nihilo: For Clement, the Son is a hypostasis of the Father, while for Plutarch the soul already exists, albeit in a pre-cosmic disordered state.70 And this means that, in Clement, the Son is the very knowledge of the Father, and that, in Plutarch, God shares it with His daughter. However, despite some minor cosmological divergences, the instrumental function of the middle element, the Son in Clement and the daughter in Plutarch, remains the same. In the same way that the World Soul, as God’s instrument, is said to “create” or to bring order to chaotic matter, Clement’s Logos, as God’s Son, is said to be arche of the creation of everything, to be God’s

66 67 68 69 70

See Clem. Al., Strom. 1.97.2; 2.45.7; 5.12.3; 7.2.2; 7.13.2; 7.16.6. Cf. Clem. Al., Strom. 4.162.5; 5.1.3; 5.1.4; 6.122.1; 6.123.1. Clem. Al., Strom. 5.16.5 with Wolfson, The Philosophy of the Church Fathers, 208 and Lilla, Clement of Alexandria, 204. Cf. Lilla, Clement of Alexandria, 199–212. Very importantly, however, Plutarch repeatedly insists that by sharing his intellect, God “generates” the World Soul.

the bio- and technomorphic aspects of creation

249

instrument in the creation of the world. Furthermore, the results of the activity of these intermediary divine figures are the same: once both ontological principles, the World Soul or the Logos, have fulfilled their activity, the world attains intelligibility, since the father’s intellect, rationality, or knowledge is immanent to the world. Consequently, despite agreeing with those Middle Platonists who interpreted Plato’s sentence in Timaeus 28C as a reference to the one and only God, Clement is closer to Plutarch than to Philo when he exploits the biomorphic and technomorphic dimensions included in Plato in order to deploy different aspects of the one and single divinity: the Father-Son relationship in Clement shows clear parallels with that of the First Cause-World Soul in Plutarch.71 The Son brings the Father closer to the world and, like God’s daughter in Plutarch, functions as a bridge between transcendence and immanence; He makes possible the miracle that, while being so far removed from the world in terms of His essence, the Father is in fact very close and present in the world due to His power or energy.72 Lilla sees the influence of Gnosticism on Clement’s view of the Logos’ incarnation as a historical person. In Lilla’s view, it is only here that we see the combination of the Logos as God’s second hypostasis with the idea of His incarnation as a person in history, in Jesus, as the only transmitter of the esoteric knowledge of the Father.73 In my view, however, both Clement and the Gnosis are effects of the same cause, namely the discussion in Middle Platonism regarding the relationship between God and the world, and the tendency to postulate an intermediary figure to link both in a better way in order to present a more organic view of the cosmos. From this perspective, Plutarch’s intelligible world, Clement’s view of the Logos as God’s Son, Heracleon’s exegesis of John 1:3,74 and the Ophians’ view of the Son as a serpent moving between the Father and the World can all be seen as different attempts to achieve the same thing.75

71 72 73 74

75

Cf. Clem. Al., Strom. 7.1.2. Clem. Al., Strom. 2.2.5. Cf. Lilla, Clement of Alexandria, 158–167. A. Orbe, En Los Albores De La Exegesis Iohannea (Ioh. i, 3) (Rome: Universitas Gregoriana, 1955); E. Thomassen, The Spiritual Seed: The Church of the “Valentinians” (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2006) 123 n. 14. On Heracleon, see A. Wucherpfennig, Heracleon Philologus: Gnostische Johannesexegese im zweiten Jahrhundert (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002). See J.C. Alby, “La Cosmología de los Peratas,” in J.C. Alby et al. (eds.), Gnosis apocryphon: Homenaje al Dr. Francisco García Bazán (Buenos Aires: Trotta-Guadalquivir, 2020) 213– 230.

250 3

roig lanzillotta

Concluding Remarks

Despite Clement’s alleged dependence on Philo for the issues related to Platonism, the analysis of his reception of Plato’s Timaeus 28C seems to imply that he did not follow the Alexandrian slavishly. The similarities and differences between Philo and Clement’s reception of Plato’s sentence instead show that Clement follows Philo only when it suits his interests, and that he is also capable of developing the biomorphic and technomorphic aspects latent in Plato’s sentence when it fits his theological scheme, in a way quite similar to what Plutarch had done more than a century earlier. We cannot know whether there was a direct influence, but the similarities between Plutarch’s cosmological model and Clement’s theological one are striking, especially when one considers that they serve rather different conceptions of creation. The triad God/Father – Daughter/Son – World are exactly the same. The same is true for the activity that the central figure fulfills and the same for the results of their activities. In both cases, daughter and son are developments of the late antique view of the Platonic ideas as the thoughts of God and are equated to the paradeigma or model used by the demiurge to impart order unto matter. Clement’s Hellenism, consequently, can be seen not only in his reception of Plato’s theology, his view of the Maker and Father as only single deity of ineffable character, but Clement also shows the influence of the theological thought from late antiquity and its attempt to reconnect the transcendent God with the world. Whereas, under the influence of the Platonic-peripatetic definition of the divinity, God had been completely exiled from the world, we see here a movement in the opposite direction that is intended to build a bridge between transcendence and immanence.76 The Pseudo-Aristotelian De mundo offered a solution by postulating God’s immanence in the world through His divine dynamis.77 For Plutarch and Numenius, this function was fulfilled by the World Soul and the demiurge, respectively. For Clement, the connection between transcendence and immanence was attained thanks to the relationship between the Father and the Son, essentially one but at the same two.

76 77

See L. Roig Lanzillotta, “The Divine Father in the Gospel of Truth (NHC I,3): God as causa efficiens and causa finalis,” in Albrecht & Feldmeier, The Divine Father, 345–367 (354–356). Cf. Ps.-Arist., Mu. 397B27–398A6; G. Reale & A.P. Bos, Il trattato Sul Cosmo per Alessandro attribuito ad Aristotele (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 1995) 215–216. More recently cf. A.P. Bos, “Aristotle on God as Principle of Genesis,” British Journal for the History of Philosophy 18 (2010) 363–377 (368–369).

the bio- and technomorphic aspects of creation

251

Bibliography Alby, J.C., “La cosmología de los peratas,” in J.C. Alby, P.A. Ciner & J.B. García Bazán (eds.), Gnosis apocryphon: Homenaje al Dr. Francisco García Bazán (Buenos Aires: Trotta-Guadalquivir, 2020) 213–230. Baltes, M., Pietsch, C. & Dörrie, H., Die philosophische Lehre des Platonismus, 7.1: Theologia Platonica (Stuttgart/Bad Cannstadt: Frommann-Holzboog, 2008). Baltes, M., “Numenios von Apamea und der Platonische Timaios,” Vigiliae Christianae 29 (1975) 241–270. Bonazzi, M., “Eudoro di Alessandria alle origini del platonismo imperiale,” in id. & V. Celluprica (eds.), L’eredità platonica: Studi sul platonismo da Arcesilao a Proclo (Naples: Bibliopolis, 2005) 115–160. Bos, A.P., “Aristotle on God as Principle of Genesis,” British Journal for the History of Philosophy 18 (2010) 363–377. Bury, R.G., Timaeus. Critias. Cleitophon. Menexenus. Epistles (Cambridge, MA/London: Harvard University Press, 1920). Chadwick, H., Early Christian Thought and the Classical Tradition: Studies in Justin, Clement, and Origen (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1966). Chadwick, H., “Review Wolfson,” CR 63 (1949) 24. Colson, F.H. & Whitaker, G.A., Philo, vol. i (LCL, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1929). Dillon, J., “The Role of the Demiurge in Platonic Theology,” in A.Ph. Segonds & C. Steel (eds.), Proclus et la theologie platonicienne: Actes du Colloque International de Louvain (13–16 mai 1998) en l’honneur de H.D. Saffrey et L.G. Westerink (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2000) 339–349. Donini, P.L. “La connaissance de dieu et la hiérarchie divine chez Albinos,” in id. & M. Bonazzi (eds.), Commentary and Tradition: Aristotelianism, Platonism, and PostHellenistic Philosophy (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2011) 423–436. Ferrari, F., “Gott als Vater und Schöpfer: Zur Rezeption von Timaios 28c3–5 bei einigen Platonikern,” in Albrecht & Feldmeier, The Divine Father, 57–71. Ferrari, F., “Der Gott Plutarchs und der Gott Platons,” in R. Hirsch-Luipold (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch: Götterbilder—Gottesbilder—Weltbilder (RVV 54, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005) 13–26. Ferrari, F., “Dottrina delle idee nel medioplatonismo,” in F. Fronterotta & W. Leszl (eds.), Eidos—Idea: Platone, Aristotele e la tradizione platonica (Sankt Augustin: Universitas Greogriana, 2005) 233–246. Ferrari, F., “Dio padre ed artifice: La teologia di Plutarco in Pla. Qu. 2,” in I. Gallo (ed.), Plutarco e la religione: Atti del vi Convegno plutarcheo Ravello 1995 (Naples: M. D’Auria, 1996) 395–409. Festugière, A.J., La Révélation d’Hermes Trismegiste 4 (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1954).

252

roig lanzillotta

Frede, M., “La teoría de las ideas de Longino,” Methexis 3 (1990) 85–98. Herrero de Jáuregui, M., The Protrepticus of Clement of Alexandria: A Commentary (Diss. Bologna: Università di Bologna 2008). Hoek, A. Van den, “How Alexandrian was Clement of Alexandria? Reflections on Clement and his Alexandrian Background,” Heythrop Journal 31 (1990) 179–194. Hoek, A. Van den, Clement of Alexandria and his use of Philo in the Stromateis: an Early Christian Reshaping of a Jewish Model (Leiden: Brill, 1988). Ivanka, E. Von, Plato Christianus: Übernahme und Umgestaltung des Platonismus durch die Väter (Einsiedeln: Johannes, 1964). Lévy, C., “Cicero and the Timaeus,” in G. Reydams-Schils (ed.), Plato’s Timaeus as Cultural Icon (Notre Dame, IN: Notre Dame University Press, 2003) 95–110. Lilla, S., Clement of Alexandria: A Study in Christian Platonism and Gnosticism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971). Männlein-Robert, I., Longin: Philologe und Philosoph: Eine Interpretation der erhaltenen Zeugnisse (Beiträge zur Altertumskunde 143, Munich: K.G. Saur, 2001). Mortley, R., Coinnassance religieuse et herméneutique chez Clément d’Alexandrie (Leiden: Brill, 1973). Nock, A.D., “The Exegesis of Tim. 28C,” Vigiliae Christianae 16 (1962) 79–86. Opsomer, J. “Demiurges in Early Imperial Platonism,” in Hirsch-Luipold (ed.), Gott und die Götter bei Plutarch, 51–100. Orbe, A., En los albores de la exegesis Iohannea (Ioh. i, 3) (Rome: Universitas Gregoriana, 1955). Osborn, E.F., Clement of Alexandria (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005). Outler, A.C., “The Platonism of Clement of Alexandria,” The Journal of Religion 20 (1940) 217–240. Reale, G. & Bos, A.P., Il trattato Sul Cosmo per Alessandro attribuito ad Aristotele (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 1995). Rizzerio, L., “L’accès à la transcendance divine selon Clément d’Alexandrie: dialectique platonicienne ou expérience de l’‘union chrétienne,’” Revue des Études Augustiniennes 44 (1998) 159–179. Roig Lanzillotta, L., “La recepción de Platón, Timaeus 28C en Clemente de Alejandría,” in P. de Navascués Benlloch, M. Crespo Losada & A. Sáez Gutiérrez (eds), Filiación 6: Cultura pagana, religión de Israel, orígenes del cristianismo (Madrid: Trotta, 2016) 259–280. Roig Lanzillotta, L., “The Divine Father in the Gospel of Truth (NHC I,3): God as causa efficiens and causa finalis,” in Albrecht & Feldmeier, The Divine Father, 345–367. Roig Lanzillotta, L., “Dios como padre y artífice en Moralia de Plutarco,” in de Navascués Benlloch et al. (eds.), Filiación 5, 150–154. Roig Lanzillotta, L., “Plutarch’s Idea of God in the Religious and Philosophical Context of Late Antiquity,” in id. & I. Muñoz Gallarte (eds.), Plutarch in the Religious

the bio- and technomorphic aspects of creation

253

and Philosophical Discourse of Late Antiquity (Ancient Mediterranean and Medieval Texts and Contexts 14, Leiden: Brill, 2012) 137–150. Runia, D.T., Philo in Early Christian Literature: A Survey (Assen: Royal Van Gorcum/Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1993). Runia, D.T., Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato (Leiden: Brill, 1986). Schaff, P., Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 2 (Grand Rapids, MI: Christian Classics Ethereal Library, 1885). Theiler, W., “Demiourgos,” RAC 3 (1957) 694–711. Thomassen, E., The Spiritual Seed: The Church of the “Valentinians” (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2006). Topitsch, E., Gottwerdung und Revolution: Beiträge zur Weltanschauungsanalyse und Ideologiekritik (Munich: Verlag Dokumentation, 1973). Topitsch, E., Vom Ursprung und Ende der Metaphysik (Vienna: Springer, 1958). Turner, J.D., Sethian Gnosticism and the Platonic Tradition (Quebec: Peeters, 2001). Völker, W., Der wahre Gnostiker nach Clemens Alexandrinus (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1952). Weiss, H.F., Untersuchungen zur Kosmologie des hellenistischen und palästinischen Judentums (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1966). Whittaker, J. & Louis, P., Alcinoos: Enseignement des doctrines de Platon (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1990). Whittaker, J., “ἄρρετος καὶ ἀκατονόμαςτος,” in Studies in Platonism and Patristic Thought (London: Variorum, 1984) xii. Whittaker, J., “Plutarch, Platonism, and Christianity,” in A.H. Armstrong, H.J. Blumenthal & R.A. Markus (eds.), Neoplatonism and Early Christian Thought: Essays in Honour of A.H. Armstrong (London: Variorum, 1981) 50–63 (= Studies in Platonism and Patristic Thought [London: Variorum, 1984] xxviii). Whittaker, J., “Neopythagorean and Negative Theology,” SO 44 (1969) 109–125 (= Studies in Platonism and Patristic Thought [London: Variorum, 1984] ix). Williams, M.A., “Negative Theologies and Demiurgical Myths in Late Antiquity,” in J.D. Turner & R. Majercik (eds.), Gnosticism and Later Platonism: Themes, Figures, and Texts (SBL Symposium Series 12, Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2001) 277–302. Wolfson, H.A., The Philosophy of the Church Fathers: Faith, Trinity, Incarnation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1956). Wucherpfennig, A., Heracleon Philologus: Gnostische Johannesexegese im zweiten Jahrhundert (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002). Wyrwa, D., Die christliche Platonaneignung in den Stromateis des Clemens von Alexandrien (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 1983).

Index Locorum Alcinous De doctrina Platonis 4.2 146n23 13.3 152n65 33.3 155n84 Amelius Fragmenta On the Gospel of John 177–208 Appianus Bella civilia 5.4.38

Aristeae epistula ad Philocratem 15–16 117n49 229 154n81

Aristotle [De Mundo] 397B27–398A6 Ethica Nicomachea 1113B 1155A 1157A 1157B

155n85 126n3 155n86 145n21, 156n91 126n3 126n3 111n11, 152n66 126n3, 128n6 143

154

Apuleius De deo Socratis 227–230 6–16 228n79 13 229n83.84 123 241n25 124 241n25 De magia (Apologia) 64 241n25 De Platone et eius dogmate 1.5.190 241n25 1.5.191 239n12 2.14 155n84

Aristobulus Fragmenta 3 4 5 5a

1161B 1168A28–1169B2 1169A 1179B [Magna Moralia] 1212A28–34 1212B10–24 Metaphysica 1072B Politica 1263AB Rhetorica 1371A

118n56 109n1 117n48.151 147n29.32

76 250n77 143 143n6, 152n60 148n36 158n99

Athanasius Contra gentes 39

222n41

Atticus Fragmenta (Des Places) 9.35–43 241n27, 245n53 28.7–8 241n27 Augustinus De civitate dei 8.12 8.14.1 9.13.2 9.15.1–2

217, 227–230 227n71 228n80, 229n85 227n73.74 228n75.76, 230n86.87

Basilius Ad adulescentes de legendis gentilium libris 215, 218–220 1.24–28 219 Homilia 2 in Ps. 14 215n13 Bible (Hebrew Bible, Septuagint, New Testament) Genesis 1–3 243 2:7 168n19, 171–172 2:17 166n14 3:5 150n47 4:3 130 29:31 135–136 32:29 113

256 Exodus 3:14 25:8 25:40 26:30 27:8 33–34 Leviticus 19:18 Numbers 28:1–8 Deuteronomy 6:5 21:18–21 32:6 34:5 Psalms 11:7 17:15 Proverbs 5:3 Sapientia Salomonis 13 Matthew 5:8 13:1–9 Mark 4:7–9 12:29–31 Luke 8:4–8 John 1 1:1 1:3–4 1:9–18 1:14 1:26.31.33 1:29 2:1–11 3 4:1–28 5:17 5:21 6:38 6:63 7:39 8:39–44 8:52

index locorum

112–113 119 119n61.62.63 119n61.62 119n61 150 154 100n29, 102 154 243n39 243n39 167 150n45 150n45 225 206n110 150n45 231n91 231n91 154 231n91 141–158 179–180, 187, 202 182 141, 144, 148, 182, 249 146–150 183, 186 151n56 149 155, 190n51 147–156 155 151 157 157 149 157 156 149

8:56 9 11:3.5.6 12:25 12:36 12:41 12:43 12:45 12:46 13–17 13:23 13:35 14:6 14:15–16:13 16:21 16:28–29 17:5 17:20–26 17:23 17:24–26 20:11–17 20:22 21:24 Romans 8 8:15 1 Corinthians 1–2 13 13:12 15:35–45 2 Corinthians 4:7–5:10 5:16 Philippians 1:21–26 1 Thessalonians 4:9 4:13–18 5:23 2 Timothy 3:2 Titus 3 Hebrews 2 Peter 3:16 1 John 1:1–2

148n39 151 154 155 149 148n39 154 72n29 148n39 154 146 157 146 157 148 187n42 187n42 158 156 146, 150n45, 152, 155 155, 187n42 157 141n2 172 20 29 154 150n45 172 172 204 172 157 172 172 139 153n76 32n100 23n60 141–158 141n2

257

index locorum 1:6–2:9 2:5 2:9–11.15.22 3 3:2 3:10 3:14 3:16–18 3:23 4:7–8:16 4:12 4:17–18 Chrysippus Fragmenta (SVF) 3.682

149 155 154 150, 157 142n5, 149 153 155 155, 156 155 146, 152–156 149 20

156n91

Cicero Academicorum posteriorum 1.28–29 144n11 De finibus 3.64–71 138 De natura deorum 2.62 195n73 2.168 115n37 3.5–6 115n37 In Timaeo patrem huius mundi nominare neget posse 241 Cleanthes Hymnus in Iovem

115

Clement of Alexandria Excerpta ex Theodoto 6.1–3 182n21 Paedagogus 1.70.1 246n60 2.19.100–101 149n41 4.29.1 246n60 7.73.4 246n60 Protrepticus ad Graecos 6.1.4 245n55 6.68.1 247 Stromateis 1.5.28 109n1 1.21.105 190n49 1.176.1–2 243n44 2.2.5 249n72 2.22.132,136 149n43

2.78.3 2.98.1–3 4.91.1–92.1 5.7.1 5.16.5 5.78.1 5.92.3 6.14.114 6.104.3 7.1.2

245n55 246n60 246n60 245n55 248n68 245n55, 247n64 245–246, 247n64 149n42.43 246 249n71

Clement of Rome Epistula 1 ad Corinthios 49 154 Cornutus De natura deorum 16.2

35n109 194n69

Corpus Hermeticum I (Poimandres) 5–11 194n67 Diodorus Siculus 4.39.2 4.57.1

190n49 190n49

Diogenes Laertius 7.85 7.147

138n21 111n12, 296n80

Empedocles Fragmenta 22

152n66

Epictetus Dissertationes 1.11 1.12.5 1.18.4 1.19.11–15 1.30.3 2.14.11–13 2.20.37 2.24.19 3.22.54–55 4.6.18 4.8.12 Enchiridion 53.1–2

133n13 144 156n89 133–134, 138 144 144, 152n63 156n89 156n89 154 156n89 144 9, 115n35

258

index locorum

Eudorus Fragmenta (Mazzarelli) 3–5 70n22, 111n14.15, 146n22 25 144n13 Eunapius Vitae sophistarum 2.1.3

180n8 24

Eusebius Historia ecclesiastica 6.19.5–8 207n112 Praeparatio evangelica 11.18.25–26 179 11.19.1–3 180n12, 192 12.17.19 190n49 Gregory of Nazianzus Orationes 2.35 223n44 27.10 223n46.47 Gregory of Nyssa Contra Eunomium 2.1.596 3.1.137

John Chrysostom De inani gloria et de educandis liberis 224–226 1.1–5 225n62 2.31 225n54 2.33 225n55 2.50–54 225n57.58.59 4 225n56 11.12 226n64 25 227n69 Homilia in Johannem 12.2 149n42 John Mauropus Epigrammata 43

191n53 191n53

Heraclitus Quaestiones Homericae (= Allegoriae) 68.2 194n69 72.4 194n69 Hesiod Opera et dies

Jerome Adversus Iovinianum 230–231 1.3 230n90, 231n91 1.49 232n97.99.100 De viris illustribus 11 9, 116n39

13

Joseph and Asenath 13.11 155n86 Josephus, Flavius Antiquitates Judaicae 8.49 191n53 Contra Apionem 1.6–56 109n3

95n20

Hierocles De providentia 180n8 Ethike stoicheiosis, Fragmenta 7.20–35 133 9.1–10 133 Iamblichus De anima, Fragmenta (Finamore/Dillon) 19.25 184n31, 187–188 De communi mathematica scientia 33 184n29 Protrepticus 69 184n29

Julius Pollux Onomastikon 5.165

152n65

Justin Martyr Apologia prima 21 12–13 Dialogus cum Tryphone 1.3 111n8 69 195n72 Marcus Aurelius Ad se ipsum 2.5 4.29

133n16 156n89

259

index locorum Maximus of Tyre Dissertationes 9 11.12 35.2

229n82 241n24 152n63

Musonius Rufus Dissertationes 16 17

133n16 152n63

Nag Hammadi Library Apocryphon Ioannis (NHC II,1.III,1.IV,1) 200n93 Evangelium veritatis (NHC I,3.XII,2) 200n93 Tractatus tripartitus (NHC I,5) 193–194 76.3–85.37 194n66 Numenius Fragmenta (des Places) 1a 118n54 10 197n87 18 147n30.152n65 26 240n18 57 193n64 Olympiodorus In Platonis Gorgiam commentaria 32 111n9 Origen Commentarius in Iohannem 1.7.37–38,43 204n105.106 1.19.109–111,118 182n21 1.37.269–275 205n107 1.37.276 205 2.1.12–33 206n109 2.2.18,20 207n111 2.3.29 204 2.23.148 149 6.39.194–197 205n107 Contra Celsum 1.14 118n53 4.92 184n29 7.42.4–5 239n12 Homilia in Ieremiam 5.3 190n49

Philo of Alexandria De Abrahamo 5 93 52–53 103n37 57–59 242n32 80 113n24 121 113n19 137 152n64 144 145 203 152n64 208 135n19 257 96n23 260 96n23 De aeternitate mundi 1 243n40 15 243n36 De Cherubim 11–20 136n20 48–49 102 84 102 De confusione linguarum 82 135 144–146 151n54 146–147 150 191 97n26 De congressu eruditionis gratia 51 113n23 141 94n18 De ebrietate 83 113n23 De fuga et inventione 31–36 147n33 46 129n8 62–63 145n19 103 151n51 De gigantibus 9 164 29 135 De migratione Abrahami 2 97n26 34–35 119n64 89–93 94, 116n43 90 7n14 92 99n29 93 98 134 94n19 137 129n8 184–196 129n8

260 De mutatione nominum 10 34n107 11 113n21 15 113n26 29 152n64 54 129n9 82 113n19 De opificio mundi 4 93 10 242 16–18 243 29–32 151, 151n57 33–34 148n35 69–71 148n40 81 152n64 89–122 151 90 151n58 91,95,102,111 150n48 135 157n94 144 145 145–146 136n20, 145n17 170–172 112n17, 222n42 De plantatione 54 136n20 156–161 92n14 162 99 167–169 99–100 De posteritate Caini 2,9,15,21,28,168,175 113n22 35 128 135 135–136 180 135 De praemiis et poenis 30,43 102, 103n37 44 103n37 46 243n40 161 147n34 De providentia, Fragmenta 1 144 2.64 116n45 De sacrificiis Abelis et Caini 1 119n64 5–8 164, 166–167, 172 7 151n55 8–9 145n18, 150, 150n49.50 10 113n19 21 225n60 52–58 129–130 62 102 78–79 102.103n37

index locorum De somniis 1.53–60 129n8 1.60 94 1.75 147n33 1.149 153n75 De specialibus legibus 1.13–22 206n110 1.32–35 243n42 1.41 243n36 1.44 129n8 1.54 156n90 1.193 97 1.259 97 1.263 129n8 2.11 93 2.42 98, 100n29 2.49–55 98–99 2.150 97n26, 99n29 2.163 98 2.189 93n15 3.7 93n15 3.152 152n64 4.68 135 De virtutibus 51–52 152n60 51–174 153, 154n78 65 109n1 77 152n64 168–169 135n19, 145 217 191n53 De vita contemplativa 21–39 103n36 28 120n65 64–90 103n36 De vita Mosis 1.279 157n93 2.50–51 93 2.67 113n24 2.74,76 119n63 2.288 165–167, 171–172 Legum allegoriae 1.31 151n52 1.37 171 1.42 168n19 1.105 163 1.108 163, 119n58 3.100–102 93, 103 3.207 145 Quaestiones in Genesim 1.16 166n14

261

index locorum 1.31 148n37 2.54 152n64 2.59 164 3.5 119n57 3.12 145n20 4.89,241 119n64 4.152 119n58 Quaestiones in Exodum 2.21 156n87 2.46 150n48 2.52,82,90 119n62 2.62 145 Quis rerum divinarum heres sit 63–67 145n21 121 98 214 119n57 280 167 Quod deterius potiori insidiari soleat 29 191n53 60 157n93 92 113n19 120 99 139 103n37, 105, 113n20 153,154 113n22 160–161 6n23, 113n23.25 Quod Deus sit immutabilis 11 113n23 16–19 134 30 243n41 43 94n18 69 156n87 140–143 147n29 Quod omnis probus liber sit 53–57 119n59 160 119n60 Plato Charmenides 165d [Clitophon] 408b2 Cratylus 407e–408b Epistulae [ep. 2] ep. 7, 341cd Leges 631b–632c

644e–645d 653d–654a 713d 715e–716d 726a 731d6–732b4 738bc 803 803c–804a 828ab 870d 887bc 900d Parmenides Phaedo 64c 67d 82bc 83d 109e Phaedrus 247c 248a 274d–275b 250bc Respublica 41–46 379a–383c 398a 416e 488a–489a 517bc 546a 607b 613ab Symposium 202e 203b–204a

100 98–99 152n62 87, 90n8, 95, 102n34, 105, 129, 144 128 126–127, 130 90n7 95 100 100n29 92n13 90n8 152n62 247 164 164 144, 145 184n29 147 180, 187n40 220 144 212n1 70n20 128n6 72n29 90n8 218 226n66 220n29 70n20 184 218 144 228n77 75

166 220

Theaetetus 176b–e Timaeus

194n69 183 242, 247 87–105 96n21, 102

28a 28c 29e

96n21, 144 31, 38, 70n6, 76, 78n50, 101n31, 113–114, 222n42, 237–250 240 237, 239, 242, 247– 250 246n62

262

index locorum

Timaeus (cont.) 31b 32c–33b 41c 47a–c 53b 90b–d

221n33 221n34 145n21, 157 96n21 220n32 144

Plotinus Enneades 2.9 2.9.8 2.9.10 2.9.15 4.3.4 5.1.3,6,7 5.6.6

187n40 186n36 191n55 206n109 184n29 207n111 182n23

Plutarch Moralia Ad principem ineruditum 781A 145 Adversus Colotem 1113C 144 Amatorius 22 756A 29n89 758A 152n64.66 765A 146 765B 147n28 Coniugalia praecepta 231–232 138C 25n70 140F 231n93 142C 231n94 145E 231n95 145F 231–232 [Consolatio ad Apollonium] 102D 168 108CD 171 120A 153n72 Consolatio ad uxorem 610E–612B 96–97 De adulatore et amico 130–132 48F–49B 130 61D 131 65F 130 De amore prolis 495C–496C 148n37, 152n69

De animae procreatione in Timaeo 74n33 1013E 244n48 1014B–1015A 144 1030AB 91n10 1030C 245n52 De audiendis poetis 214–215, 218–220 15D 219n25.26 15–16 218n22 33F 153n71 37B 219n25.27 De communibus notitiis adversus Stoicos 1060C 137 1075E 138, 152n67 De defectu oraculorum 217, 221–222, 227– 228 410B 27–28 413C 72n29 415C 145n16 416C 229n81 416E 228n78 423CD 221n36 425F–426A 221n37, 222n38.39 426DE 222n40 430F–431A 132n12 435EF 91n12 436DE 91–92n12 De E apud Delphos 16n22, 18n35, 22–23, 27n80, 67–74, 78– 79 391E–394C 69, 71–73 391F 150n48 392AB 132 393A–C 114n29.30, 115n34 394C 94, 132 De esu carnium 57 De facie in orbe lunae 168–172 940F–945D 168–170 944DE 145n16, 148 De genio Socratis 18n35, 31, 57 590B–592E 168 590F 97n24 593A 152n64 593D–F 145n16 De Iside et Osiride 18, 29–30, 33, 67–79, 91–93, 177–178, 189, 196–203

263

index locorum 351C–E

29, 109n2, 117n50, 132n12, 152n65 351F–352E 77, 103 352A 74, 78 353A 93 353F–354A 75n38 354BC 92 354CD 109n2 355CD 93 355E 76 356E 75n38 360D 91n11 369AB 201n100, 76 369B–371A 75n40, 91, 109n2, 91 370D 152 371AB 75–76, 78 371A–375E 197–201 371D 74n35 371EF 75n38 372EF 78 373EF 74 374D–F 75, 79n53, 121n70 374F–375A 78, 79n53 376A 109n2 377A 78 377CD 109n2, 117n47 377F–378B 69, 72n28, 75–76, 79n53, 201n98, 121n71 379EF 76, 79n53 382B–383A 78–79, 104 De latenter vivendo 18n35 1129F–1130C 144, 148 De profectibus in virtute 214 De Pythiae oraculis 396F 156n89 402A 152n64.67 De sera numinis vindicta 29, 69n16 549EF 132n12 550D–F 88n2, 96n21, 138, 143n7, 144–145, 152n65 563B–568A 168 De sollertia animalium 962AB 138 984C 152n68

De Stoicorum repugnantiis 1035C 138 1038BC 137 1051F 138 De superstitione 20, 32, 57 De tranquillitate animi 466F 153n71 473DE 73 De vitando aere alieno 215 Maxime cum principibus philosopho esse disserendum 776B 132 777CD 131 Mulierum virtutes 259D–260D 231n95 Non posse suaviter vivi secundum Epicurum 100–102 1092D–1093A 101n31 1093A 148 1093C 231n95 1100F–1104A 100–102, 105n38 1105D 101n32 Praecepta gerendae reipublicae 224–227 820A 226n66 821F 224n53 824A 225n61, 226n63 Quaestiones convivales 614A 25n71 669B–672C 117 Quaestiones Platonicae 38 1000E–1001C 73, 76, 244 1001AB 240n17, 151n53 1003AB 244n48.49, 245n51 1006E–1007A 72n29 Fragmenta (Sandbach) 47 95 157 120n68 190 120n69 193 138 Vitae Aemilius Paulus 1 Agesilaus 1.3

24 153n70

264 Alexander 1 12 Aristides 6.3–6 Cato Maior 5 Demetrius 4.1 Lucullus 180 Marcellus 10.6 Numa 4.2 8 Pelopidas 6.5

index locorum 19 24 231n95 96, 152n59, 153n73 153n72 152n69 152n69 152n69 19 152n64.67 69–70 152n69

Porphyry De antro nympharum 195, 202 21–28 185n32 32 195n79 De philosophia ex oraculis, Fragmenta (Smith) 345F 203n103 De simulacris, Fragmenta (Smith) 195, 202 359F 196n81.82 In Ptolemaei Harmonica 3.3 144n12 Sententiae ad intelligibilia ducentes 29 184n29 Vita Plotini 207 3 195n76 10 203n101 16 181n15, 191n55 20 195n76 Proclus De Platonis theologia (Saffrey/Westerink) 1.1.6. 179n8 In Platonis rempublicam comentarii (Kroll) 2.31–32 184–185, 192n61 In Platonis Timaeum comentarii (Diehl) 5 1.76–78 208n117

1.304.13–16 1.304.22–305.6 1.305.6–16 1.359.22–360.4 Salustius De diis et mundo 4.9 Seneca De beneficiis 4.7–8 5.25.5–6 De matrimonio Epistulae morales 50.3 58 65 121

238n6 240n20 240n19, 245n53 245n53

208n118

196n80 156n89 231 156n89 70n22 70n22 138

Sextus Empiricus Pyrroneioi hypotyposeis 3.2 110n7 Stobaeus Anthologium (Wachsmuth/Hense) 2.9.4 239n12 4.660.15–664.18 133n16 Suda

116n40

Syrianus In Metaphysica commentaria (Kroll) 119 192n61 Testamenta xii Patriarcharum Gad 4.6 154n81 Theodoretus Graecarum affectionum curatio 215 2.87 13n10 Theon of Smyrna Expositio (Hiller) 14.18–16.2

243n44

265

index locorum Theophrastus Fragmenta (Fortenbaugh) 230 76n44 Xenophon Memorabilia 2.1

225n60

Zeno Fragmenta (SVF) 1.179

144

Index Rerum Abel 125, 129 afterlife 79, 168 allegory / allegoresis 24, 36, 71–79, 93, 98, 104, 119–122, 146–147, 170, 183, 190, 193– 195, 199, 225 Amelius 33n104, 177–208 Ammonius 70–74, 79 angel 68, 164 anthropology 141–158, 171–173 Apollo / Apollon see god/gods apophatism see theology appropriation (see οἰκείωσις) 126, 133–136, 139, 193–194 Apuleius 227–230 Aristobulus 117–119 Arnauld, Jacqueline-Marie-Angélique 13, 24 assimilation to God 94, 144–145, 149–150, 158 see also ὁμοίωσις Θεῷ Augustinus 227–230 Basilius 214–215, 218–220 biography 52, 141, 194, 232 see also genre body/bodily 24, 74–75, 94–96, 98, 101n31, 101n32, 102, 104, 119, 120n66, 128–129, 135, 143, 146, 163–173, 181, 184n29, 186, 189–190, 199–202, 204, 222, 225–229 Cain (as φίλαυτος) 125, 128–130 Camerarius 50–51 Celsus 118 Chaeremon 115–116 Christianity, Christians 1–4, 11–18, 23, 25–27, 31, 33–38, 49–62, 68–70, 79, 110, 117–118, 136n20, 149–150, 179, 187n39, 191, 194, 204, 207, 213, 214, 226, 242 christology 141n2, 155–156, 187, 191 Clement of Alexandria 237–240, 245–250 cognoscibility 239–241 cosmology 29, 143, 158, 208, 233 cosmos/cosmic 32, 74, 78, 89, 91, 97n26, 98, 99n29, 111n12, 112, 143–144, 152, 165– 169, 178, 182, 184–185, 188, 190, 192, 194, 196–200, 202–203, 205, 208, 243n38, 249

creation 75, 94, 114, 141, 146, 148, 152, 155– 156, 170, 193f, 200n93, 221, 237–238, 243n38, 238, 249–250 creatio ex nihilo 245, 248 new 150–151, 167, 172 daimon/demon 66–68, 75, 104, 156, 184n29, 225, 227–229 daughter 96, 231, 238, 244, 248–250 death 6, 74, 79, 96n23, 97n24, 119, 125, 148, 155, 162–173, 192, 195, 197, 202 deity, deities 35, 111n12, 114, 116–117, 193, 195– 196, 221, 238, 250 see also god, gods Demeter see god/gods demiurge 32–33, 72, 76–79, 111n12, 144, 157, 183, 201n100, 202, 241, 243–244, 250 dream 72, 185n32, 191 dualism 32, 67, 91, 156n92, 244, 246 Epictetus 115, 133–135, 138, 144, 154, 194n70 epistemology 5, 28n84, 29, 146, 237 eternity 70, 73, 114, 227–228 Eudorus 111–112 Eusebius 179–183 evil 32–33, 67, 75, 77, 99, 127–128, 130, 143– 144, 148, 156–157, 163, 168, 170, 198, 231 exegesis 36, 59, 120, 178, 182n21, 184, 196n85, 202, 203, 249 faith 2, 35, 103n37, 105, 147, 151, 153, 155–156, 158, 179, 223 fate 77, 97n24, 167–168, 178 festivals 97–100 flatterer/flattery 130–131, 224–225 flesh 25, 147, 181, 183, 186, 190, 204–207 friend/friendship 131–132, 158, 220 genre 13, 19, 23–24, 26, 92n14, 141, 147n31, 181n13, 192 Gnosis, Gnosticism, Gnostic 60, 104, 130, 177, 181, 193, 249 God, gods 20–21, 29, 31, 66–70, 72, 75, 79, 87, 90–91, 93, 95–96, 98, 100, 102, 109, 115–

index rerum 117, 129–130, 134–135, 138, 144, 146, 192, 200, 206, 222, 227–229 creator 32, 77, 141, 166, 222, 241, 243–245 father 30, 32, 70, 71, 73–74, 76, 79, 111n12, 146, 155, 157–158, 165–166, 179, 186–187, 205–206, 212, 222, 238–239, 241–244, 246–250 God’s humanity 152–153 godlikeness 88, 90, 102n34, 103n37, 104 image of God 70, 72n29, 145, 148n40, 149 maker 30, 73, 76, 238–239, 241, 242–244, 246–247, 250 of the Old Testament 70, 117 personal 30–32, 35, 77 seed (σπέρμα) of God 144–145, 157–158, 196 spirit/spirits of God 145, 149, 151n56, 157–158 the One 68, 73–74, 76–77, 79, 111–113 unity 29, 31, 238, 246–248, 240n20, 245 Apollo / Apollon 21–23, 29, 68, 71–72, 114, 116–117, 132 Demeter 169 Hades 92n13, 96, 97n24, 200 Horus 33, 75, 197, 199 Isis 33, 74, 75–78, 104, 109, 116–117, 121, 196–201 Osiris 18, 19, 33, 73–79, 117, 121, 196–202 Persephone 169, 172 Zeus 19, 67, 75n38, 115, 117, 134–135, 138, 144 Gregory of Nazianzus 220–224 Hades see god/gods heaven 74, 79, 147, 164–166, 171–172, 200, 247 Hellenism 2, 50, 52, 61, 196, 250 henotheism 67 Heracleon 249 honor/honoring 92, 102, 115, 128–129, 201, 224, 226 Horus see god/gods image of God see god/gods immortal 96, 111n12, 115, 149, 164–166, 168, 172, 199, 217, 227–229, 230, 246 incarnation 146–148, 153, 186, 189, 191, 196n39, 204–205, 249 incognoscibility 240–241 intervention, divine 66, 151 Isis see god/gods

267 Jerome 230–232 Jesus 60–61, 141, 150–158, 187n39, 189–192, 194–195, 197, 203–204, 206–208, 230, 249 John, Gospel of 4–6, 25, 54, 71, 141–158, 177– 208 John Chrysostom 224–227 Judaism 1n2, 2, 4, 31, 33, 36, 50, 61, 109, 118, 162 justice 32n102, 90n6, 96n21, 96n22, 126, 137–138, 246 kinship language/terms 100, 145, 147, 152– 154, 156–157 knowledge 5, 49, 78–79, 94, 99, 101n32, 103n37, 102, 104–105, 109, 121, 129–132, 145–146, 248–249 Lamprias 27n80, 52, 91n12, 221 law 92n13, 100n29, 93, 97, 116, 153, 201 legislation, legislator 19, 90–91, 92n13, 98n28 light, true 34n106, 147–151, 155–156, 233 Logos (λόγος) 6, 18, 28n84, 30, 33, 74–79, 92n13, 92n14, 94, 96, 105, 141, 143–153, 156–157, 167, 169, 172, 177–178, 181–208, 212, 238, 248–249 fall of the logos 183–190, 193, 202, 207 Longinus 195, 241, 245 matter 33, 67, 76–77, 104, 144, 183, 189, 192– 193, 197–199, 201–203, 207, 221, 223, 244, 248, 250 Milton, John 13 mind 77–78, 93, 95–96, 101, 121, 128, 164–165, 167, 169–171, 219–220, 229, 248 Monotheism 5, 31, 66–69, 71, 74, 78, 110, 112, 114 pagan 16, 15n19, 31, 68, 75n37, 201n99, 110 moon 16, 75, 167, 169–170, 172, 196, 200, 222n39 Moses 36n112, 93, 97, 99, 102, 105, 118–122, 125, 145, 150, 164, 168, 171–172, 197 mystery cult 102–103, 215 myth 16n22, 18, 23, 25n69, 29, 34, 75–77, 79, 92, 109, 117, 120–122, 168–170, 172, 178, 187n39, 190n50, 191, 195–196, 201–203, 207–208, 217, 220

268 Numenius 118, 120, 178–179, 181, 185n32, 193– 194, 197, 240–241 Onan 125, 135 oneness 171, 221–226 Origen 12, 38, 118, 223n49, 149, 204–208 Osiris see god/gods Paul of Tarsus 5–6, 16–17, 20, 26, 29–30, 34, 61, 70–71, 139, 151, 163, 172–173 Pentateuch 112, 116, 119–121, 243 Persephone see god/gods Philo of Alexandria 76, 89, 91–95, 97, 99– 105, 109, 112–122, 128–130, 132, 134–136, 138, 143, 145, 146n23, 150–151, 153, 157, 162–173, 242–245 physics 60, 137, 143, 146, 158 Plato 5, 38, 73, 76, 90n6–8, 91–92, 95, 96n21, 98, 126–130, 144, 163, 179, 220, 244 Platonism, Middle 4, 6, 36, 68, 79, 111, 158, 162, 244, 249 pleasure 97–98, 99n31, 101, 103, 131, 135, 218n22, 219 Plotinus 177–179, 181–185, 186n36, 187n40, 191–193, 195, 196n82, 202, 206, 238, 241 poetry/poet 69, 72, 90n8, 91–92, 214, 218– 220, 233 Polytheism 67 Porphyry 38, 177, 179–181, 184, 191, 195–196, 202–203, 207–208, 241 principle, first (ἀρχή) 92n12, 31, 111, 117, 122, 143, 207n111, 248 providence 22, 29, 68, 70, 75–77, 79, 100, 111–112, 200–201, 206, 221–223 purification 67, 98, 169 reincarnation 165 religion 15, 17–21, 23, 26, 29, 33–35, 37, 49n1, 53–54, 57, 60–61, 67–68, 70, 72–74, 79, 88–90, 93–95, 99, 101, 103–104, 115–117, 142, 201–202, 206 doctrines 28, 30, 70, 92, 96, 111, 133n15, 118, 164n3, 165, 183n26, 192, 201n100, 206, 223n49 observance 91, 93–95, 97–99, 101–105, 116 philosophical 5, 23, 89–90, 94n17, 115– 117

index rerum practices 21, 50, 88–92, 94–95, 97–100, 103, 116, 119, 202, 226 rites/rituals 18, 23, 34, 50, 92–103, 105, 115–116, 118, 151n56, 202 traditions 5, 15n20, 17, 19–20, 21n53, 28n84, 29, 35, 37–38, 67, 90–91, 92n13, 170 revelation 93, 34n107, 36n112, 37n115, 102– 104, 147, 158, 186, 190n51, 203 Rome 2, 17, 22–23 Sabbath 116, 151 salvation 79, 153, 155 seed (σπέρμα) of God see god/gods self-knowledge 5, 79, 94, 129–132 soul 6, 16, 33, 74–75, 77–79, 87, 93–94, 96, 98–102, 103n37, 104–105, 119, 121, 125– 129, 131–132, 144–145, 147, 157, 163–172, 183–185, 187–189, 191–193, 199, 202–203, 207–208, 220, 223, 225–227, 228n73, 229 spirit/spirits of God see god/gods see also πνεῦμα Stoicism 20, 35n110, 76, 139, 144, 230n88 sun 68, 71–72, 75, 134, 167, 169–172, 196, 200, 222n39 superstition 93, 121 symbol 5, 22, 24–25, 34, 37n115, 69, 90–91, 98, 99n29, 102–104, 116, 119, 121, 146, 150, 171, 196, 202, 208 telos 28, 75, 79, 104, 119, 131, 144, 206n109 theology 5, 15, 20–21, 28, 29n91, 30, 35, 37, 38n120, 66–69, 71, 90n8, 92, 101n32, 111n12, 104, 120, 158, 173, 179, 189, 207, 201n100, 237–239, 246–247, 250 apophatic 146n23, 147n31, 146–147, 158 negative theology 113, 242, 146n23, 147n31, 240n15, 241n29 transcendence / immanence 22, 29, 33, 60n44, 77, 79, 102, 111–114, 116, 117, 121–122, 129, 136, 142n5, 158, 182, 193, 201n100, 232, 241, 244, 249– 250 transformation 150–151, 166–168, 171, 199, 224 Trinity 70–71, 74, 79 tripartite/bipartite 102, 143, 164, 168–169, 171–173, 193–194

269

index rerum truth 19, 22, 25, 27, 29, 33, 34n107, 38, 67, 77, 91–92, 95–97, 101n32, 104–105, 126–132, 139, 146, 148, 152, 156–157, 197, 202, 216, 218, 247 tyrant 134–135

λόγος

virtue 88, 90, 95–96, 98–99, 101–102, 104– 105, 121, 143–144, 153, 166n14, 224, 227, 231–232

νοῦς

wisdom 5, 29, 36n112, 90n6, 91, 92n13, 93, 96n21, 100–102, 103n37, 117–118, 120, 127, 182n21, 196, 197n87, 204, 207n113 world soul 6, 73, 75–76, 78–79, 144, 182n22, 183, 189, 192–193, 195, 205, 238, 244–245, 248–250 worship 5, 18–19, 31, 68, 70, 72, 79, 87–89, 90n6, 91, 93–102, 104–105, 206

οἰκείωσις 5, 125–126, 132–134, 137–139 ὁμοιότης 144 ὁμοίωσις Θεῷ 94, 144–145, 149–150, 156, 158

Zeno 119, 138, 144 Zeus see god/gods ἀγάπη 142–143, 149, 152–155, 225 ἄλογον 131, 164, 167

μεταβολή

69, 76, 151n53

145, 198

75, 78–79, 93, 101–102, 105, 118, 120, 164– 172, 181, 185n32, 193–194, 197, 202, 220, 244

πνεῦμα 22, 26, 33, 60n44, 151n56, 164, 168, 171–173n204 σῶμα

τέλος

163–167, 170, 172–173, 180, 184, 198–199, 204, 225 see telos

φιλανθρωπία ψυχή

δύναμις

6, 18, 28n84, 30, 33, 74–79, 118, 142, 146–147, 152–153, 158, 164, 167, 172, 180, 193, 195–196, 199, 200, 201, 205, 242

158

78, 131, 152, 163–167, 170, 172–173, 184, 188, 198, 220