Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist: The Development and Purpose of the Angelic Hierarchy in Sixth Century Syria (Routledge New Critical Thinking in Religion, Theology and Biblical Studies) 9780754662587, 0754662586

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PSEUDO-DIONYSIUS AS POLEMICIST

ASHGATE NEW CRITICAL THINKING IN RELIGION, THEOLOGY AND BIBLICAL STUDIES The Ashgate New Critical Thinking in Religion, Theology and Biblical Studies series brings high quality research monograph publishing back into focus for authors, international libraries, and student, academic and research readers. Headed by an international editorial advisory board of acclaimed scholars spanning the breadth of religious studies, theology and biblical studies, this open-ended monograph series presents cu ing-edge research from both established and new authors in the field. With specialist focus yet clear contextual presentation of contemporary research, books in the series take research into important new directions and open the field to new critical debate within the discipline, in areas of related study, and in key areas for contemporary society. Series Editorial Board: Jeff Astley, North of England Institute for Christian Education, Durham, UK David Jasper, University of Glasgow, UK James Beckford, University of Warwick, UK Raymond Williams, Wabash College, Crawfordsville, USA Geoffrey Samuel, University of Newcastle, Australia Richard Hutch, University of Queensland, Australia Paul Fiddes, Regent’s Park College, University of Oxford, UK Anthony Thiselton, University of No ingham, UK Tim Gorringe, University of Exeter, UK Adrian Thatcher, College of St Mark and St John, UK Alan Torrance, University of St Andrews, UK Terrance Tilley, University of Dayton, USA Miroslav Volf, Yale Divinity School, USA Stanley Grenz, Baylor University and True Seminary, USA Vincent Brummer, University of Utrecht, The Netherlands Gerhard Sauter, University of Bonn, Germany Other Titles in the Series: Wol art Pannenberg on Human Destiny Kam Ming Wong Postmodernism and the Ethics of Theological Knowledge Justin Thacker

Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist

The Development and Purpose of the Angelic Hierarchy in Sixth Century Syria

ROSEMARY A. ARTHUR

First published 2008 by Ashgate Publishing Published 2016 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017, USA

Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business Copyright © 2008 Rosemary A. Arthur Rosemary A. Arthur has asserted her moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Arthur, Rosemary A. Pseudo-Dionysius as polemicist: the development and purpose of the angelic hierarchy in sixth century Syria. – (Ashgate new critical thinking in religion, theology and biblical studies) 1. Pseudo-Dionysius, the Areopagite – Literary style 2. Pseudo-Dionysius, the Areopagite – Criticism and interpretation 3. Angels – Christianity – History of doctrines – Early church,ca. 30–600 4. Theology, Doctrinal – History – Early church, ca. 30–600 I. Title 270.2’092 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Arthur, Rosemary A. Pseudo-Dionysius as polemicist: the development and purpose of the angelic hierarchy insixth century Syria / Rosemary A. Arthur. p. cm. – (Ashgate new critical thinking in religion, theology and biblical studies) ISBN 978-0-7546-6258-7 (hardcover: alk. paper) 1. Pseudo-Dionysius, the Areopagite. 2. Angels–Christianity. 3. Theology–History–Early church, ca. 30–600. I. Title. BR65.D66A78 2007 230’.14092–dc22 2007021337

ISBN 9780754662587 (hbk)

Contents List of Abbreviations Preface 1 2 3 4 5 6

Christian and Non-Christian Sources The Angelic Hierarchy The Unknowability of God The Monophysite Connection Summa or Polemic? Conclusion

Bibliography Index

vii ix 1 43 71 101 141 175 199 211

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List of Abbreviations ANCL CH CSCO CWS DN DS EH Ep. HH JTS MT NHL NTS PG PO SC

Ante Nicene Christian Library Ps-Dionysius: Celestial Hierarchy Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium Classics of Western Spirituality Ps-Dionysius: Divine Names Dictionnaire de Spiritualité Ps-Dionysius: Ecclesiastical Hierarchy Ps-Dionysius: Le ers Stephen Bar Sudhaili: The Book of the Holy Hierotheos Journal of Theological Studies Ps-Dionysius: Mystical Theology Nag Hammadi Library New Testament Studies Patrologia Graeca Patrologia Orientalis Sources Chrétiennes

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Preface When I returned to re-read Ps-Dionysius after a year spent studying mediaeval English, what struck me quite forcibly was not so much the theological aspects of his writing, but the linguistic ones. The strange choice of vocabulary, the plethora of derogatory adjectives and the repetitious nature of the material all puzzled me and made me wonder about his intended audience. The amount of invective indicated that he was not writing for the benefit of those with whom he was on entirely cordial terms. The vocabulary could almost have been that of a message in code. The amount of repetition suggested a degree of frustration with failure to receive an important message. An author’s motive for writing matters because it determines how we listen to him. If a work is a straightforward exposition of doctrine, we are more likely to accept its truth if we are members of the same religious group (or one compatible with it) than if the author is of a faith about which we have reservations, or of which we actively disapprove. If we believe him to be of the same faith as ourselves, we will be more likely to hear him than if we know that he is not. If we know that a work is polemical, we may be prepared to listen, provided that we do not feel personally attacked; we may sympathize with the writer’s point of view without necessarily agreeing with him doctrinally. Consequently, the safest course of action for an author who is desperate for his message to be heard (particularly if the message is at all unpalatable) is to present his work as a summa rather than as overt polemic – and to publish it under the pseudonym of an undoubted authority. The practice was not uncommon in Europe during the early Middle Ages. A grounding in palaeography made me suspicious of the documents used by scholars to deduce the dating of the corpus. I therefore decided to re-examine the whole question of dating. Why, for example, is Dionysius so frequently dated to ‘round about 500AD’, rather than ‘round about 530AD’? In view of the first public quotation from the corpus occurring in 532AD, why should terminus post quem take precedence over terminus

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ante quem? It was with such questions uppermost in my mind that I made the decision to aim at a critical appraisal of primary source material where possible, rather than taking previous work for granted. This has influenced the number of modern secondary sources used, or at least the number reaching print. Because a study of the personalities and historical issues surrounding the production of the corpus seems to me to be essential for understanding possible reasons for it appearing when it did, it was worthwhile spending time on the investigation of those of Dionysius’ Monophysite contemporaries who were alive in 532AD. Also, little work has been done on Origenism in Syria in the early sixth century, let alone in English. Golitzin is a welcome exception.1 As with the question of dating, I am sceptical of the truth of unsupported assertions that the Syrian mystic Stephen Bar Sudhaili, author of The Book of the Holy Hierotheos, was necessarily dependent on Ps-Dionysius. It seems that assumptions have been made that Ps-Dionysius must have priority, on account of his being the ‘greater’ thinker of the two. Now the classification of a writer or artist as ‘greater’ than another does not entitle one to assume that the ‘lesser’ writer or artist must therefore have copied him. The composers J.S. Bach and G.F. Handel are a case in point; both used ideas or incorporated themes by lesser known musicians in their own work. Handel defended himself against charges of plagiarism by claiming that what he was doing was polishing rough stones and turning them into diamonds. Those who copied him copied his style, not his melodies. Bar Sudhaili certainly did not copy Dionysius’ style! As far as I am aware, no detailed critical study of Bar Sudhaili’s thought in relation to that of Dionysius has yet been carried out. I have therefore attempted to fill in some of the numerous gaps. From the standpoint of modern Western Christianity, Dionysius appears to some to be more pagan than Christian, on account of his apparent lack of interest in Jesus Christ, love of whom, and faith in whose atoning work are, for us, hallmarks of the believing Christian. Yet here and there in the text, like granules of gold in a muddy river bed, are passages which could only have been written by a devout Christian, passages such as: And out of love he has come down to be at our level of nature and has become a being. He, the transcendent God, has taken 1

A. Golitzin, Et Introibo ad Altare Dei (Thessaloniki, 1994).

Preface

xi

on the name of man . . . and he has come to join us in what we are . . . 2 and To those who fall away it is the voice calling ‘come back!’ and it is the power which raises them up again.3 In the past, scholars have concentrated on mainstream Christianity and Neoplatonism as formative influences on Dionysius. In order to shed additional light on where he is coming from, I have extended the search to heterodox Christianity and other non-Christian source material, scanning a fairly wide area in order not to miss anything of possible relevance. In line with current thinking on its historical origins, I have included Gnosticism with Christianity.4 I have looked at Neoplatonism, both for the sake of including Damascius, and also for the sake of the angels, who deserve closer attention than they have hitherto received. It was with some regret that I decided that Ephrem could not be fitted in to this scheme; in any case, I could not have done justice to him in the compass of this work. The paucity of accessible, reliable background material has proved a drawback, but I have been surprised, excited, inspired and often deeply moved by what has emerged. Stephen Bar Sudhaili and Sergius of Reshaina in particular have proved especially rewarding to read. Where I have quoted from a work for which no English translation exists, the translation is my own (translations from German are an exception; my husband David Arthur is responsible for these, and I am especially grateful for his valiant effort in translating Koch’s paper on mysticism). Sometimes I have modified an existing translation, especially where a particular word or phrase does not seem to me to represent the meaning of the Greek accurately. This is mainly true of Luibheid’s translation of the Dionysian corpus. However, his sheer readability and capacity for conveying the personality and emotions behind the words have made Dionysius much more accessible than he would have been otherwise. And for this I am more than grateful. Unless otherwise stated, Luibheid’s translation is the one used. The purpose of this research has not been to analyse Dionysius’ doctrine so much as to set him in context and hopefully clarify some of the obscurity which has prevented him from being appreciated as much as he 2

DN 2.10, 648D DN 1.3, 589B 4 S. P´etrement, A Separate God (London, 1991), pp. 82–6; A.H.B. Logan, Gnostic Truth and Christian Heresy (Edinburgh, 1996), passim. 3

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deserves to be. He has often been criticized for being unemotional, even cold. But, while I have been studying him, I have had a growing sense of a real human being behind the disguise which he so cleverly devised. The eloquence of this ‘lover of the angels’ on the topics of beauty, peace and unity is that of a man who cares intensely about such eternal values, bidding us too to turn away from interdenominational strife and towards the Indescribable One. Inevitably I am indebted to far more people than I can name. Since any research is dependent on availability of books, I owe a debt of gratitude to the library staff of Kings College London, Heythrop College, Dr Williams’s Library, Sion College Library (before its untimely closure) and the Brotherton Library, Leeds. My sincerest thanks go to Dr Graham Gould for his support and encouragement, for critical appraisal of my work and, where necessary, forcing me to rethink cherished ideas. Lastly, but certainly not least, my family: my sons Clewin and Daniel Griffith, whose patient help enabled me to cope with the technical aspects of producing this book on the computer; and my husband David for translating German, typing the bibliography and index, reading the text and sharing me with the unlikely company of assorted sixth century Syrian clerics.

Chapter 1 Christian and Non-Christian Sources 1.1

Introduction

Dionysius the Areopagite, whose conversion to Christianity is described in Acts 17.16–34, was an Athenian philosopher who was reputed to have become the first bishop of Athens. Apart from Acts 17, the only other information that we have of him comes from Eusebius of Caesarea’s Ecclesiastical History: . . . that member of the Areopagus, Dionysius by name, whom Luke records in the Acts as having received the faith for the first time after Paul’s public address to the Athenians in the Areopagus, is described by one of the ancients, another Dionysius, shepherd of the diocese of Corinth, as having been the first Bishop of Athens.1 This second Dionysius, bishop of Corinth in about 180AD, appears to have been a man of some influence who, like Paul before him, wrote letters to various churches.2 Since we have no information about the epistular habits (if any) of Dionysius the Areopagite, Ps-Dionysius may have modelled himself partly on Dionysius of Corinth. Although the biblical account mentions only Epicurean and Stoic philosophers,3 our author is a Neoplatonist. 1

Eusebius Pamphili: Ecclesiastical History III, Fathers of the Church 19 (Washington, DC, 1953), pp. 143–4, and IV.23, p. 257 2 Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History IV.23 3 Acts 17.18

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist

His attitude to the human body is rather more positive than that of the Middle Platonists who would have been contemporary with his namesake. He does not, for example, see the body as a tomb for the soul: Why then do we hesitate and doubt to put off the corruptible body that hinders us and weighs down the soul . . . ?4 On the contrary, the body is inseparable from the soul and therefore shares with it after death the appropriate reward which both have earned.5 The human body, in spite of its many ailments and weaknesses, is not evil, but ‘a lesser beauty’, which certainly cannot be said to be a cause of evil in the soul.6 The influence of Proclus can be seen here; matter is necessary for the good that happens in the world.7 Because they denied divine judgement, Epicureans argued8 that death was not to be feared: By this means the objections of the Epicureans against providence are dissolved; for, say they, that which is divine is neither the cause of molestation to itself nor to others.9 Neither does Dionysius see death as something to be feared by those who have led pure lives.10 The only people who need to worry are those Christians who have rejected the moral teachings which they have received, in order to embark on a life of pleasure.11 Stoics gave divine providence a central place in their teachings and shared with the later Neoplatonists a belief in the inter-relationship (sympatheia) of all parts of the cosmos.12 Ps-Dionysius appears to have taken care not to contradict these teachings. For example, he nowhere mentions hell, while Providence (pronoia) occurs frequently, particularly in Divine Names. In order to convey that he has a sound knowledge of Greek philosophy (although now a Christian bishop and disciple of St Paul), Dionysius makes extensive use of Greek philosophical terminology. In Epistle 10 he informs the reader that he is writing in old age, at the end of the first century. 4

Origen, An Exhortation to Martyrdom 47 EH 7.I.1–2, 553A–C 6 DN 4.27, 728D 7 T. Whittaker, The Neo-Platonists (Hildesheim, 1961), pp. 234–5 8 Note to Acts 17.18, New RSV, HarperCollins Edition 9 Sallust, On the Gods and the World 9, in Collected Writings on the Gods and the World, trans. T. Taylor (Frome, 1994), p. 13 10 EH 7.I.1, 553A–B 11 EH 7.I.2, 553D–556A 12 James Shiel, Greek Thought and the Rise of Christianity (London, 1968), p. 31 5

Christian and Non-Christian Sources

3

As a Christian, Dionysius needs to be very careful about referring to the Fathers, since his readers are likely to be acquainted with much more of the history of Christian doctrine than of Greek philosophy, and will quickly detect his fraud if he takes a false step. As it is, there are some breath-stopping moments when he quotes Ignatius of Antioch13 and draws on the writings of Clement of Alexandria, Gregory of Nyssa and others, not forgetting the use of the Nicene Creed in the liturgy, only introduced in 475–7AD by Peter the Fuller.14 His main Christian influence ought to be that of Paul. But although Dionysius quotes the Pauline and Ps-Pauline epistles a large number of times, his much vaunted discipleship is simply not convincing. Firstly, Paul was the last person to encourage hero-worship. Dionysius’ extravagant use of epithets such as ‘the divine Paul’, ‘the great Paul’,15 belong far more to the milieu of the Greek schools, where the personality of the master was central in the learning process, and where there was often an ‘almost hysterical devotion of pupil to teacher’.16 1 Cor. 3.4–9 illustrates the Pauline attitude of teacher as servant, using the analogy of a gardener who nurtures his plants, recognizing that their growth comes from God alone. Secondly, Dionysius claims to have known Paul personally, yet the Damascus Road conversion is not referred to anywhere in the Dionysian Corpus. Neither is Paul’s ascent to the third heaven in 2 Cor. 12.1–4 mentioned, in spite of Dionysius’ apparent interest in visionary and mystical experiences. These two omissions are particularly suspicious. St Ephrem’s Homily on our Lord deals with the Damascus Road experience in sections 26–40, where he compares the effect of the light on Moses and Paul: Why did the eyes of Moses radiate with the glory he saw, [while the eyes] of Paul rather than radiating, were utterly blinded by that light? We should know that the eyes of Moses were not stronger than Paul’s; they shared the same relationship to flesh and blood. Another power graciously sustained the eyes of Moses, but no power lovingly reinforced [the eyes] of Paul . . . We should realise this: whenever anything is revealed to us that is greater than and beyond our nature, the strength of our nature is unable to endure in its presence. But if another power beyond our nature reinforces us, we are able to 13

DN 4, 709B A. Louth, Denys the Areopagite (London, 1989), pp. 9, 12 15 DN 4, 712A 16 G. Fowden, The Egyptian Hermes (Cambridge, 1986), pp. 189–90 14

4

Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist endure the presence of something extraordinary which we do not experience in nature because of what we receive above and beyond nature.17

Could it be that the power which protected Moses, but not Paul, the Shekinah who transfigures all those on whom it rests,18 did so precisely because Moses was humble enough to work in the strength of the Lord rather than in his own? Whereas Paul, in his pride, had been fighting against God, certainly at the time of his conversion. Even thereafter, although he professed humility, yet was he still fighting – against the very ‘pillars of the Church’ whose teaching he ought presumably to have been handing on unchanged.19 In this connection it may be significant that Dionysius refers to Peter as ‘that summit, that chief of all those who speak of God’,20 but does not mention Paul’s presence on this important occasion. Dionysius picks up this theme of Moses’ humility in the letter to Demophilus.21 Even though Dionysius professed admiration of Paul, there is a remoteness which suggests that he was unwilling to engage with the person behind the words of the Pauline epistles. His relationships with Hierotheus and Carpus seem much more realistic. Thirdly, Paul discouraged Christians from treating angels as intermediaries between God and humanity. They should not have too high a place in the attainment of salvation,22 lest they usurp the place which is rightfully that of Christ alone.23 This is quite the opposite of Dionysius, for whom angels virtually take the place of Christ.24 So Dionysius finds Paul very useful as a source of quotes (although only, be it noted, in Divine Names and the Letters!). But he only quotes him when it suits his purposes. His own theology owes very little indeed to Paul, 1 Tim. 6.16 excepted. Worse still, Ps-Dionysius’ Christology ‘totally ignores . . . the central affirmation of Pauline faith’,25 which is that we are justified by faith 17

St. Ephrem the Syrian: Selected Prose Works, trans. E.G. Mathews and J.P. Amar (Washington DC, 1994), pp. 306–7 18 L. Bouyer, Le Fils Eternel (Paris, 1974), pp. 58–9 19 DN 3.3, 684C–D 20 DN 3.2, 681D 21 Ep. 8.1, 1084B 22 R. Van der Hart, The Theology of Angels and Devils (Cork, 1972), pp. 59–60 23 1 Cor. 6.3, Gal. 3.19–20, Col. 2.18, Hebrews 2.5–9 24 CH 3.2, 165A; CH 5, 196C; CH 7.1, 205C 25 J.M. Hornus, ‘Quelques r´eflexions a` propos du Pseudo-Denys l’Ar´eopagite et de la mystique Chr´etienne en g´en´eral’, Revue d’Histoire et de Philosophie Religieuses 27 (1947): 37–63, quoted in Hathaway, Hierarchy and the Definition of Order in the Letters of Pseudo-Dionysius (The Hague, 1969), p. xvii

Christian and Non-Christian Sources

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in the crucified Christ. In fact Dionysius is never very clear about the role of Jesus, salvific or otherwise. The only Christological similarity between Dionysius and Paul is that both more or less ignore the human Jesus.26 Dionysius’ Monophysitism makes him closer to Johannine than to Pauline Christology. Letter 10 illustrates his attachment to, and indebtedness to, John: So far as I am concerned no one can take away the ever-shining ray of John and at present I am remembering and renewing the truth of your theological teaching.27 In this chapter I will examine a variety of possible sources, Christian, Jewish and pagan, for both his hierarchical system and his teaching on the unknowability of God, in order to get a closer look at the man behind the mask.

1.2 1.2.1

Christian Sources Clement of Alexandria

I shall begin in the late second century with Clement of Alexandria, who, like Dionysius, claimed dual citizenship with respect to his sources. Clement does not distinguish between Platonism and Christianity; the teachings of Jesus are not in opposition to pagan wisdom, but are the fulfilment of it:28 We shall not err in alleging that all things necessary and profitable for life came to us from God, and that philosophy more especially was given to the Greeks as a covenant peculiar to them – being, as it is, a stepping-stone to the philosophy which is according to Christ.29 Perhaps Clement was the inspiration behind: 1) Linking Acts 17.22–3 with Exodus 20.21.30 Stromateis V.12 contains both of these verses. Clement interprets the Exodus verse to mean 26

1 Cor. 2.1–2, Col. 1.19–20, 1 Tim. 2.5–6 Ep. 10, 1117C–1120A 28 R.M. Berchman, From Philo to Origen, Brown Judaic Studies 69 (Chico, California, 1984), p. 81 29 Stromateis VI.8, Ante Nicene Christian Library II (Edinburgh, 1869), p. 342 30 Ep. 5, 1073A 27

6

Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist that ‘God is invisible and beyond expression by words’, adding that therefore we must understand ‘the Unknown by divine grace, and by the word alone that proceeds from Him, as Luke, in the Acts of the Apostles relates that Paul said, “Men of Athens . . . etc.”’. Here is one explanation for the emphasis Dionysius places on quoting scripture. 2) The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy as an imitation of the Angelic Hierarchy: ‘In my opinion the grades here in the church of bishops, presbyters, deacons, are imitations of the angelic glory . . . For these . . . will first minister as deacons, then be classed in the presbyterate, by promotion in glory . . . till they grow into a perfect man’ (Stromateis VI.13). Spiritual perfection is thus linked with one’s status in the hierarchy. The difference between Clement and Dionysius is that, while Clement sees a possibility of promotion from one rank to another, Dionysius is more than a little ambivalent where the church hierarchy is concerned. He has no movement of angels between one rank and another, which suggests that he does not envisage it between ranks in the Church either. For although he includes detailed descriptions of the ordination ceremonies of bishops, priests and deacons, his attitude towards monks, particularly in Letter 8, betrays his real feelings; they must remember that they are inferior to the deacons: ‘Everyone must look to himself and, without thinking of more exalted or more profound tasks, he must think only about what has been assigned to his place . . . each person will remain in his own order and in his own ministry.’31

Clement’s angelology is not followed by Dionysius. One important difference between them is that for Clement the angels nearest to God are not allowed to see him directly, but may look at the Son, who is his ‘face’.32 Dionysius’ cherubim (and presumably the seraphim also) have the power ‘to know and to see God . . . to contemplate the divine splendour in primordial power . . . .’33 Clement’s top level consists of the seven protoktistoi. Below these are the angels and archangels; nine orders in all. The function of the protoktistoi is to contemplate the Son and transmit revelations to mankind via the archangels and angels. The lower ranks act in addition as ministering angels to nations and individuals. Dionysius touches on this latter function, but does no more than that, probably because he prefers instead to emphasize the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy as 31

Ep. 8,1092A,1093C Excerpta ex Theodoto, ed. R.P. Casey (London, 1934), pp. 30–33 33 CH 7.1, 205C 32

Christian and Non-Christian Sources

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a screen between angels and individual laity. However, he may have had Clement’s system in mind. Clement is the first Christian to teach the way of negation: ‘. . . we may reach somehow to the conception of the Almighty, knowing not what He is, but what He is not . . . The First Cause is . . . above both space and time and name and conception.’34 This is, of course, one of Dionysius’ central teachings (see particularly DN 7.3, 869C–D; The Mystical Theology; Letters 1 and 5).

1.2.2

Gregory of Nyssa

The fourth century Cappadocian Gregory of Nyssa is of interest on account of his teaching on apophaticism, which has been seen as a precursor of that of Dionysius. Gregory emphasized the importance of asceticism and growth in virtue as part of the search for God. He had a strong sense of man’s free will. Each of us has a guardian angel and a demon. We choose either the angel or the demon: ‘We men have in ourselves, in our own nature and by our own choice, the causes of light and darkness, since we place ourselves in whichever sphere we wish to be’(The Life of Moses II.80).35 Dionysius does not take this up, but his avoidance of hell and damnation may indicate support for Gregory’s universalism and, implicitly, that of Origen also.36 As with Philo, Gregory’s Moses is a hierophant,37 which suits Dionysius’ working out of an ecclesiastical hierarchy. However, Gregory’s Moses acts as an intermediary between God and man at the people’s request because they are frightened of the power and glory of God as manifested on the mountain.38 Although a bishop himself, Gregory’s attitude to the laity is not as condescending as that of Dionysius to his laity: Each rank around God conforms more to him than the one farther away. Those closest to the true Light are more capable of receiving light and of passing it on. Do not imagine that the proximity here is physical. Rather, what I mean by nearness 34

Stromateis V.11 Gregory of Nyssa, The Life of Moses, ed. A.J. Malherbe and E. Ferguson (New York, 1978) 36 F.W. Norris, ‘Universal Salvation in Origen and Maximus’, Universalism and the Doctrine of Hell, ed. N.M. de S. Cameron (Carlisle, 1992), pp. 64–5. 37 Gregory of Nyssa, Life of Moses, I.42, II.160 38 Life of Moses, I.45 35

8

Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist is the greatest possible capacity to receive God. If then the rank of priests is that more able to pass on illumination, he who does not bestow illumination is thereby excluded from the priestly order and from the power reserved to the priesthood. A man thus deprived is, in my view, insolent if he muscles in on priestly functions, when, without fear or shame, he unworthily pursues the divine things.39

For Gregory, no one creature is intrinsically closer to God than is any other; all are equidistant.40 Dionysius therefore needs to look elsewhere for his notion of a hierarchy of status stretching between God and man, descending through the angels and clergy to the simple Christian. What Dionysius does derive from Gregory is his use of darkness. Gregory follows Philo and Clement in using darkness to represent the ultimate incomprehensibility and inaccessibility of God. What is new to him is the idea (not in the Septuagint) that Moses actually saw God in the darkness: ‘What does it mean that Moses entered the darkness and then saw God in it?’41 The description of Moses’ ascent of Sinai can be found in The Life of Moses, Book I.42–6: Then the clear light of the atmosphere was darkened so that the mountain became invisible, wrapped in a dark cloud . . . he boldly approached the very darkness itself and entered the invisible things where he was no longer seen by those watching. After he entered the inner sanctuary of the divine mystical doctrine, there, while not being seen, he was in company with the Invisible. The purpose of the darkness is not to prevent God from being seen by Moses, but to prevent Moses from being seen by the people. But Gregory also equates darkness with ignorance: although the word presents to all equally what is good and bad, the one who is favourably disposed to what is presented has his understanding enlightened, but the darkness of ignorance remains with the one who is obstinately disposed and does not permit his soul to behold the ray of truth.42 39

Ep. 8.2,1092B D.L. Balas, Metousia Theou (Rome, 1966), p. 44 41 Life of Moses II.162 42 Life of Moses II.265 40

Christian and Non-Christian Sources

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The idea is beginning to emerge that it is in ignorance that we encounter God most intimately, which is why Gregory stresses darkness rather than cloudiness. This is in contrast to Gnosticism, where God is absolutely unknowable, and where darkness can only be ignorance, and therefore undesirable. Against almost all previous Christian writers, Gregory sees darkness as something positive rather than negative, and Dionysius follows him in this. They also share an awareness of the use of the senses for guiding the believer towards the beauty of the intelligible world: Hope always draws the soul from the beauty which is seen to what is beyond, always kindles the desire for the hidden through what is constantly perceived. Therefore the ardent lover of beauty, although receiving what is always visible as an image of what he desires, yet longs to be filled with the very stamp of the archetype.43 We must start with what we perceive, even though God in himself is beyond all representation and cannot be perceived by the senses.44 Although Gregory has a clearly defined usage of mystical and ecstatic terminology to describe the encounter with God, it cannot be claimed that Dionysius is a mystic in the normally accepted sense.45 If he appears to be so, it is surely due largely to his borrowing from mystical writings such as Gregory’s Homily 11 from the Commentary on the Canticles, for use in the Mystical Theology: Our initial withdrawal from wrong and erroneous ideas of God is a transition from darkness to light, Next comes a clear awareness of hidden things, and by this the soul is guided through sense phenomena to the world of the invisible. And this awareness is a kind of cloud, which overshadows all appearances, and slowly guides and accustoms the soul to look towards what is hidden. Next the soul makes progress through all these stages and goes on higher, and as she leaves behind all that human nature can attain, she enters within the secret chamber of the divine knowledge, and here she is cut off on all sides by the divine darkness. Now she leaves outside all that 43 Life of Moses II.231–2 and Homily 11 on Canticles; Ecclesiastical Hierarchy 1, 377A, Divine Names 1, 592C 44 Homily 6 on Canticles; DN 1, 593A–B and many other examples 45 J. Vanneste, ‘Is the mysticism of the Pseudo-Dionysius genuine?’, International Philosophical Quarterly 3 (1963): 304–5

10

Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist can be grasped by sense or reason, and the only thing left for her contemplation is the invisible and the incomprehensible.46

1.2.3

Gnosticism

The occurrence in the Dionysian Corpus of characteristically Gnostic words such as Silence, Archon,47 gnosis, darkness, Zoe, Pleroma, and so on, does not necessarily indicate direct Gnostic influence, although it is true that the use of Silence as a hiding place for God is a common Gnostic theme. However, note that Ignatius’ Letter to the Magnesians 8.2 has ‘There is one God who revealed himself through Jesus Christ his Son, who is his Word which came forth from Silence ...’.48 Silence is probably the most important of such ‘Gnostic’ concepts for Dionysius. However, it would be a mistake to jump to the conclusion that he necessarily derived his use of silence from Gnostic sources. He undoubtedly used the Chaldaean Oracles, which also have an ineffable Father enthroned above the sphere of the fixed stars in a place called ‘The Paternal Depth’ or ‘Silence’.49 The Oracles are a more likely source, since they also have angels who sing hymns to the Father and expound divine mysteries to those below.50 Lewy, however, suggests that this is an indication of Jewish influence on the Oracles. Furthermore, the Chaldaean angels are good and beneficial, like those of Dionysius and unlike the Gnostic archons, who are basically detrimental to man’s welfare, aiming to prevent the ascent of his soul to God. It seems much more likely that Dionysius borrowed the concept from the Chaldaean Oracles or from Neoplatonism. Porphyry referred to certain Gnostic works, including Allogenes and possibly Marsanes, being discussed in Platonist circles at the time of Plotinus.51 Both of these works describe a triple power which is hidden in silence.52 The Triple Power of Allogenes consists of Vitality, Mentality and That Which Is. It is very like the Christian Trinity in that ‘the three are one, although they are each three as individuals’.53 This third century work also contains a striking example of negative theology which is reminiscent 46

PG 44.1000C–1004C EH 2, 404C; CH 9, 260B 48 The Apostolic Fathers, trans. J.B. Lightfoot and J.R. Holmes (Leicester, 1990), p. 95 49 H. Lewy, Chaldaean Oracles and Theurgy, (Paris, 1978), pp. 77–8 50 Ibid, pp. 14–15, 132–5, 161 51 The Nag Hammadi Library, ed. J.M. Robinson (Leiden, 1984), pp. 417, 443 52 Marsanes, NHL X.11, p. 419; Allogenes, NHL XI.3, p. 450 53 NHL, XI.3, p. 445 47

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of Chapters 4 and 5 in The Mystical Theology: He is neither divinity nor blessedness nor perfection . . . rather, he is another one better than the blessedness and the divinity and perfection. For he is not perfect but he is another thing that is (more) exquisite. He is neither boundless, nor is he bounded by another. Rather he is something better. He is not corporeal. He is not incorporeal. He is not great. He is not small. He is not a number. He is not a creature. Nor is he something that exists, that one could know. But he is something else . . . that is better, whom one cannot know.54 The Cause of all is above all and is not non-existent, lifeless, speechless, mindless. It is not a material body, and hence has neither shape nor form, quality, quantity or weight . . . it is not number or order, greatness or smallness, equality or inequality, similarity or dissimilarity. It is not immovable, moving or at rest. It has no power, it is not power, nor is it light. It does not live, nor is it life. It is not a substance, nor is it eternity or time. It cannot be grasped by the understanding since it is neither knowledge or truth. It is not kingship. It is not wisdom. It is neither one nor oneness, divinity nor goodness. Nor is it a spirit, in the sense in which we understand that term.55 The Dionysian themes of incomprehensibility, ineffability and silence are found in several of the Nag Hammadi writings. The Sethian Gospel of the Egyptians also has a ‘God beyond God’: ‘the great invisible spirit, the Father whose name cannot be uttered . . . Three powers came forth from him; they are the Father, the Mother and the Son . . . These came [forth from] the silence of the unknown Father.’56 It is also in the Gnostic literature that a theology of the Divine Names first appears. In the Valentinian tradition, the Father is never called by his name. Instead, ‘the name of the Father is the Son’,57 who is all of the names. He is: the form of the formless, the body of the bodiless, the face of the invisible, the word of the unutterable, 54

NHL XI.3, p. 450 MT 4–5, 1040D–1048A 56 NHL III.2, pp. 195–6 57 Gospel of Truth, NHL I.3, pp. 47–8 55

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist the mind of the inconceivable, the fountain which flows from him, the root of those who are planted, and the god of those who exist, the light of those whom he illuminates, the love of those whom he loved, the providence of those for whom he providentially cares, the wisdom of those whom he made wise, the power of those to whom he gives power, the assembly of those whom he assembles, the revelation of the things which are sought after, the eyes of those who see, the breath of those who breathe, the life of those who live, the unity of those who are mixed with the Totalities. All of these are in the single one, as he clothes himself completely. By his single name he is never called.58

The difference between the Gnostic and Dionysian understandings of darkness and ignorance has already been discussed. There is, however, one Gnostic work, Pistis Sophia,59 which contains a striking example of the Dazzling Darkness: . . . there came forth . . . a great power of light, giving a very great light, and there was no measure to its accompanying light, for it came forth from the Light of Lights . . . That light-power, however, came down upon Jesus and it surrounded him completely as he was sitting at a distance from his disciples, and he gave light exceedingly, there being no measure to the light which was his. And the disciples did not see Jesus because of the great light in which he was, or which was his, for their eyes were darkened because of the great light in which he was. Dionysius does seem to have had access to Gnostic teachings, either directly or indirectly. 58 59

The Tripartite Tractate, NHL I.5, p. 63 Nag Hammadi Studies IX (Leiden, 1978), pp. 4–5

Christian and Non-Christian Sources

1.2.4

13

Syrian Christianity

That the liturgical background of the Dionysian corpus is that of the Syrian church has been sufficiently well established. We cannot tell, however, whether the church community described by Dionysius is located in Syria, Palestine, Alexandria or in Constantinople, where a chapel had been set aside by the empress Theodora.60 The author intends his readers to assume that he is Greek. However, certain local features suggest that his homeland is Syria. The city of Antioch had bronze statues of cherubim over the southern gate of the city, from which this area of the city came to be known as ‘The Cherubim’. A statue of Christ in the same locality was particularly venerated.61 This would undoubtedly have been a source of annoyance to Dionysius, given his attitude to images. Maybe his emphasis on the impossibility of visualizing the angels (e.g. CH 2, 137A–B) had its origin in some such situation. The cathedral church at Edessa, destroyed in the flood of 525AD, was of a unique design; it had nine steps leading up to the altar, three on each of the three sides of the dais, which represented the nine orders of angels.62 Considering Dionysius’ Syrian background, it is surprising that so little reference has been made by scholars to the influence on him of Syrian Christian writers.63 His allegiance to the Monophysite cause suggests that he is likely to be either Syrian or Egyptian. His use of Alexandrian sources might lead to an assumption that he is Egyptian, but since the liturgical references are clearly to Syrian liturgy,64 it is more likely that he was a Syrian who had studied in Alexandria, where there were famous schools of philosophy and medicine. Whether or not he can read Syriac is not something which he is particularly keen to disclose. His biblical quotations show that he uses the Septuagint and not a Syriac version. His references to deacons as cleansers suggests that he knows Syriac, although he nowhere admits it.65 Given that Dionysius appears (by our standards) to attribute little historical sense to his readers, he does not seem too concerned about hiding his post-first century sources. So it is particularly interesting when he does try to conceal a source by attributing the information to another. 60

W.A. Wigram, The Separation of the Monophysites (London, 1923), pp. 108–9 G. Downey, A History of Antioch in Syria (Princeton, NJ, 1961), p. 554 62 J.B. Segal, Edessa: The Blessed City (Oxford, 1970), pp. 189–90; A. Palmer, ‘The Inauguration Anthem of Hagia Sophia in Edessa’, Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 12 (1988): 117–67 63 But see A. Golitzin, Et Introibo ad altare Dei (Thessaloniki, 1994), pp. 349–90 64 A. Louth, Denys the Areopagite (London, 1989), p. 14 65 S. Brock, The Luminous Eye (Kalamazoo, 1992), p. 180 61

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One example of this is his attribution of the nine-fold angelic hierarchy to the Neoplatonist Hierotheus. But, as we shall see in Chapter 2, this angelology is essentially Syrian. Although the traditional Syrian order of angels places Cherubim above Seraphim,66 Dionysius reverses these so that Seraphim become nearest to God, with Cherubim below them.67 This must be significant. His use of ‘Seraphim’ instead of ‘Seraph’ for the singular – ‘Why is it said that one of the theologians was visited by a Seraphim?’ (CH 13, 300B) – may have been intended to give the impression that he knew no Hebrew. This is also suggested by EH 4, 481C, ‘If, as exegetes of the Hebrew assert . . . ’, and EH 4, 485A–B, ‘With regard to the sacred song which God inspired in the prophets, those who know Hebrew translate it . . . ’. That different ranks differ in degrees of knowledge may be found in Dialogue 3 of the late fifth century Syrian monk John of Apamea (or John the Solitary, to distinguish him from the Gnostic John of Apamaea, who rejected the resurrection of the body and held typically emanationist views).68 Originally from Apamaea, the Gnostic John had studied philosophy and medicine at Alexandria. Stephen Bar Sudhaili had been a disciple of his.69 Hausherr has shown that Dionysius’ three successive stages of Purification, Illumination and Union are equivalent to Evagrius’ three stages of praktike, theoria physike and theologike,70 rather than coming from Proclus. Praktike is ‘a spiritual way, purifying the part of the soul that is the seat of the passions’;71 physike is the contemplation of nature, scripture and non-corporeal beings;72 theoria theologike is contemplation of the Holy Trinity.73 Dionysius may have taken to heart Evagrius’ exhortation: ‘To the better ones among the priests alone reply, if they ask you, what the mysteries which they perform and which purify the inner man symbolize . . . And tell them again what is the figure of what they do . . . ’.74 The third chapter of the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy sets out to do exactly this. 66

John of Apamea, Dialogues et Trait´es, Sources Chr´etiennes 311, Dialogue 3, p. 69 CH 7.1, 205B–C; CH 13 68 I. Hausherr, ‘Un grand auteur spirituel retrouv´e: Jean d’Apam´ee’, Orientalia Christiana Periodica 14 (1948): 3–42 69 A. Guillaumont, Les ‘Kephalaia Gnostica’ d’Evagre le Pontique (Paris, 1962), p. 317 70 I. Hausherr, ‘Les Grands Courants de la Spiritualit´e Orientale’, Orientalia Christiana Periodica 1 (1935): 124 71 Evagrius, Praktikos 78, SC 171 (Paris, 1971), p. 667 72 Evagrius Ponticus: The Praktikos and Chapters on Prayer, trans. J.E. Bamberger (Kalamazoo, MI, 1981), pp. lxxix-lxxxi 73 The Gnostic 18, ed. A. Guillaumont, SC 356 (Paris, 1989) 74 The Gnostic 14 67

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Possibly Evagrius’ warning, ‘Do not speak of God thoughtlessly and never define the Godhead. Definitions are appropriate for created and compound beings,’75 was one of the reasons for Dionysius writing Divine Names. Then in Chapter 41 of The Gnostic Evagrius continues: ‘But on the subject of the Holy Trinity it is inadmissible to say anything in words. The ineffable should be adored in silence.’ This instruction to worship God with silence can also be found in the Neoplatonist Damascius and in the Hermetic Corpus, but Dionysius could equally have got it from Evagrius (DN 1, 588C–589B). Dionysius disagrees with Evagrius on several points: the importance of self-contemplation and ascesis, the centrality of the Church and the ability of angels to move up or down the spiritual ladder – towards God, or towards man – together with man’s ability to help himself up. This latter teaching of Evagrius is based on the Origenist doctrine that all rational beings, even demons, have the possibility of moving upwards little by little to the angelic state.76 Two points on which Evagrius and Dionysius are in agreement are: i) that demons are not evil by nature (Kephalaia Gnostica 4.51 and DN 4, 724C) ii) a teaching, rather than a redemptive role for the Son.77 Dionysius does not go quite as far as Evagrius, but he certainly does not disagree with him. The most significant Evagrian influence in early sixth century Syria was the mystic Stephen Bar Sudhaili (born about 480AD), whose Book of the Holy Hierotheos is the most important of early Syrian mystical writings.78 Frothingham and Wright apart,79 most scholars have considered that he wrote his Book of the Holy Hierotheos in response to Dionysius, the assumption being that the Dionysian Corpus was written early in the sixth century, say before 515AD. This assumption of the primacy of Ps-Dionysius is one which I shall challenge.80 Stephen flourished between 510–520AD. He taught an extreme form of Evagrian Origenism based on 75

The Gnostic 27 Dictionnaire de Spiritualit´e, 1740 77 Kephalaia Gnostica III.57, IV.29, V.25 78 The Book of the Holy Hierotheos, F.S. Marsh, ed. (London, 1927) 79 A.L. Frothingham, Stephen Bar Sudaili, the Syrian mystic, and the Book of Hierotheos (Leiden, 1886), pp. 79–83; W. Wright, A Short History of Syriac Literature (London, 1894), pp. 76–7 80 R.A. Arthur, A Sixth-Century Origenist: Stephen bar Sudhaili and His Relationship with Ps-Dionysius, Studia Patristica 35 (Leuven, 2001): 369-73 76

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist

St Paul’s verse: ‘When all things are subjected to him, then the Son himself will also be subjected to the one who put all things in subjection under him, so that God may be all in all’ (1 Cor. 15.28). This led him to develop a pantheistic doctrine that everything is of one nature with God. The words ‘All nature is consubstantial with God’, which he wrote on the wall of his cell, are part of his credo.81 Philoxenus of Mabbugh criticized Bar Sudhaili as ‘someone full of confidence in himself, who has rejected all authority and all traditional teaching. He has made himself his own master.’82 The style of the Book of the Holy Hierotheus is that of a creative and original thinker; such a man has no need to copy the ideas of someone else, least of all a rigid and inflexible ecclesiastic like Ps-Dionysius, who has not even the courage to declare his teachings publicly under his own name. Stephen Bar Sudhaili seems to have been quite fearless. The influence is much more likely to have been in the opposite direction, with Dionysius writing in response to Bar Sudhaili, but certainly not copying him. There is more than one way to be influenced by someone! Bar Sudhaili was a danger to the stability of the Church; if he would not accept the authority of his own bishops, perhaps he would accept the authority of St Paul? Stephen never claimed to be the teacher of Dionysius. Nor was he responsible for the naming of The Book of the Holy Hierotheos, which only acquired this title in the eighth or ninth century. Neither do the names Hierotheus and Dionysius occur in the original text; they were added later by a scribe or editor. The original title may have been Book of the Hidden Mysteries of the House of God.83 Stephen does claim to be a follower of Paul, but no teacher later than Paul is mentioned, and he does not claim to be a contemporary of Paul as Dionysius does. Even the references to Paul may have been later interpolations. There is no evidence that Bar Sudhaili knew Greek. All his scriptural quotations are taken from the Peshitta; he does not use any of the books which are in the Septuagint but not in the Peshitta (that is, Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, 2 John, 3 John, 2 Peter, Revelation).84 It seems unlikely, therefore, that he would have studied Dionysius’ particularly obscure Greek in order to copy its contents. We will see later that Stephen Bar 81 ’Letter from Philoxenus of Mabbugh to the priests Abraham and Orestes of Edessa’, in A.L. Frothingham, Stephen Bar Sudaili, the Syrian Mystic, and the Book of the Holy Hierotheos (Leiden, 1886), pp. 42–3 82 A. Guillaumont, Les ‘Kephalaia Gnostica’ d’Evagre le Pontique (Paris, 1962), pp. 310–11 83 F.S. Marsh, ed., The Book of the Holy Hierotheos, pp. 149, 153 84 ¨ A. Vo¨ obus, Neue Ergebnisse in der Erforschungen der Geschichte der Evangelientexte in Syrischen, Pamphlets on Syrian Christianity (1947–8), p. 7

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Sudhaili played an important part in the Origenist debates of the sixth century. The only part of the Dionysian Corpus which overlaps to any extent with The Book of the Holy Hierotheus is the Celestial Hierarchy. Stephen Bar Sudhaili, however, does not have nine ranks of angels in three groups of three as Guillaumont states;85 there are nine ranks, one above the other, each of the nine ranks being divided into three to give 27 ranks in all. Each of the 27 ranks is then subdivided into nine again, to give a total of 243 ranks of angels.86 Analysis of the various examples of ‘striking similarity’ between the two men reveals that in almost every case they are using a well-known analogy in quite different ways. Let us take three examples to illustrate this. The first example is the common image of the birth of a baby, found in EH 3.3.6, 432C–433B and HH III.1. Bar Sudhaili sees the birth as the removal of confinements to allow for growth to maturity. The baby stands for ‘those who ascend’; they have started the return to God and, although still in need of purification, will continue to grow until they are one with God. Dionysius’ baby, the newly baptized, will die unless development takes place in the right way; that is, in the nurturing womb of the church. The second example is that of the sun shining on those below, in DN 4.1, 693B–696A and HH IV.11. Dionysius’ sun does not choose to deprive anyone of light, but one cannot receive its light unless one has the capacity to do so; one cannot see without eyes. Bar Sudhaili’s sun represents God’s compassion, extended ‘even to those who are below the earth, and even on them sheds something of its light’. The third example concerns ineffability. In MT 1, DN 1.1 and DN 7.1,3, Dionysius asserts that God is beyond all names. When Bar Sudhaili, on the contrary, refers to the unspeakable in HH II.3, he is not referring to God, but to the heavenly mansions through which the Mind must pass during the ascent. But although one may not use words to describe what one has seen, one can nevertheless still describe it in other ways: ‘To me indeed it seems right to say without speech and to know without intellect that which is too sublime for speech and which intellect has not perceived.’ In each case Bar Sudhaili takes a positive, optimistic view and Dionysius a negative one. What is striking is that their respective outlooks are so diametrically opposed. Bar Sudhaili does not derive his doctrine from Dionysius, who claims that he is no innovator: ‘I do not aim foolishly to introduce new ideas’ (DN 3, 684C, D). In contrast, perhaps, to someone he knows who does? 85 86

Les ‘Kephalaia Gnostica’, pp. 326–32 HH I.12, pp. 20–22

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist

Bar Sudhaili’s hierarchical system, like that of Evagrius, allows a freedom of movement which Dionysius denies. For Origen, Evagrius and their followers, angels and men alike are free to move either up or down the scale of being, rather than being confined to a set place. This is because of a belief in free will and in the return of all creatures to God in the end, at the apocatastasis.87 Bar Sudhaili’s work does not seem to be that of a man on the defensive. For he has tasted paradise, and tells of it with whole-hearted warmth and enthusiasm. Dionysius, on the other hand, writes more like one combating a heresy. The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy and Epistles could almost have been written with Stephen Bar Sudhaili in mind. Bar Sudhaili (rather than Dionysius) may have been the originator of the terms ‘hierarch’ and ‘hierarchy’: Then those angels are moved to impart to the Mind a mystery of spiritual contemplation, and [so] they explain to it, mystically and divinely, the secret of their charge and the function of their hierarchy.88 Note that he has no intermediate church hierarchy between individual human minds and the angels: Their [i.e. the angels’] splendid and holy hierarchy, therefore, assembles to rejoice with the Mind and to exult with it.89 Now thou art persuaded and knowest, that the work of hierarchy is the advancement of those who are brought near, and the purification of those who are purified . . . The divine Hierarch of the first Hierarchy is moved, therefore, to make the Mind partaker in his perfect fullness, so that now it may be sanctifying and purifying those Essences that are united with it.90 Now the divine Mind . . . is disturbed and grieved, and draws near to the Hierarch who is in that place, and learns from him, mystically and holily, the mysteries that are [now to be] accomplished.91 87

Literally ‘restoration’: the Universalist doctrine that all free rational natures will eventually be saved. 88 Book of the Holy Hierotheos I.15, p. 39 89 Book of the Holy Hierotheos II.17, p. 40 90 Book of the Holy Hierotheos II.18, pp. 40–41 91 Book of the Holy Hierotheos II.20, p. 44

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The Syriac word which Bar Sudhaili uses for hierarchy is kwmrwt’, which means ‘priesthood’; his word for hierarch is ryshwt, which means ‘head’. The important difference between Dionysius and Bar Sudhaili in their use of the word ‘hierarch’ is that Dionysius always refers to a human being, the bishop, whereas Bar Sudhaili uses the word to refer to Christ. For Bar Sudhaili there is only one hierarchy, that of the angels, whereas Dionysius has two. Whether deliberately or not, Dionysius has replaced Christ by the bishop. We will look further at Stephen Bar Sudhaili and his relationship with Dionysius in subsequent chapters. Dionysius’ use of heterodox Christian sources will be continued in Chapter 2, where I examine his development of existing angelic hierarchies.

1.3 1.3.1

Non-Christian Sources Jewish Sources

As will be seen in Chapter 2, the concept of an angelic hierarchy is basically Jewish in origin. Dionysius’ interest in angels may therefore have led to an involvement with Judaism, resulting in its influencing other aspects of his thought. Since this has already been suggested,92 it will be worthwhile to examine the possibility of Jewish influence in more detail. Did Dionysius know any Hebrew? Rorem has pinpointed several passages which he takes to be Dionysius’ own indication that he knew no Hebrew. They are: CH 7, 205B; CH 13, 300B; EH 4, 481C and 485A–B.93 ‘Those with a knowledge of Hebrew are aware of the fact that the holy name “seraphim” means “fire-makers”, that is to say, “carriers of warmth”.’94 This passage suggests that he did know Hebrew and was aware that some of his readers did also. ‘. . . In Hebrew the scripture gives the designation of seraphim to the holiest of beings in order to convey that these are fiery-hot and bubbling over . . . ’.95 Neither of the phrases ‘fire-makers’ and ‘carriers of warmth’ is intended to be a literal translation of ‘seraphim’. Dionysius uses fhmÐ; 92

M. Smith, Early Mysticism in the Near and Middle East (London, 1931), pp. 79–83 Pseudo-Dionysius: The Complete Works, trans. C. Luibheid, with notes by P. Rorem (New York, 1987), p. 176, n. 115 94 CH 7, 205B 95 EH 4.III.9, 481C 93

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the name indicates that the seraphim are fire-makers and carriers of warmth, and that they are fiery-hot and bubbling over. So the looseness of translation is more apparent than real. ‘If, as exegetes of the Hebrew explain,96 the Word of God names the most divine seraphim “those who are on fire” and “those who warm . . . ”’.97 This does not mean that he knew no Hebrew, merely that he did not class himself as an exegete of Hebrew. He may well have known some Hebrew, but not fluently enough to consider himself competent at exegesis. ‘With regard to the sacred song which God inspired in the prophets, those who know Hebrew translate it as follows: “Praised be God” or “Praise the Lord”.’98 Dionysius will not use the word ‘Alleluia’; he avoids the necessity of having to do so by giving the Greek translation of it instead. This does not mean that he is unaware of the Hebrew meaning; on the contrary, he is bracketing himself with others who do know Hebrew. The slightly awkward phrase oÉ t€ EbraÐwn âidìtec [those who know Hebrew] could be a circumlocution for IoudaØoi [Jews], a word which he rarely uses. Alternatively it could refer to a Christian circle, studying the Old Testament in Hebrew for purposes of their own. The Christians who produced the Ascension of Isaiah were one such group.99 The only clear instance quoted by Rorem of an apparent ignorance of Hebrew is ‘Why is it said that one of the theologians was visited by a seraphim?’100 This may just possibly have been inserted to mislead us. He is supposed to be an Athenian after all! Philo, however, who refers to ‘a cherubim’ in Questions and Answers on Genesis I.57,101 is thought to have known Greek but no Hebrew. The Septuagint has these two angels only in the plural, so Dionysius’ readers would perhaps have been none the wiser. Against Rorem, one passage demonstrates that Dionysius did have more than a passing knowledge of Hebrew:102 ‘For, as the theologian [i.e. Ezekiel] has pointed out, they [the winged wheels] are called “gelgel”, which in Hebrew signifies both “revolving” and “revealing”.’103 This additional comment about the meaning of gelgel is significant because the Septuagint does not explain the meaning of the word. It might be deduced ‘Assert’ is a little strong for φασιν. EH 4.III.10, 481C 98 EH 4.III.12, 485A–B 99 J. Knight, The Ascension of Isaiah (Sheffield, 1995), pp. 67–8 100 CH 13.1, 300B 101 The Works of Philo Judaeus, trans. C.D. Yonge (Peabody, Massachusetts, 1993), p. 803 102 CH 15.9, 337D 103 Ezekiel 10.13 (LXX): ‘And these wheels were called Gelgel in my hearing.’ 96 97

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that it means ‘revolving’, but there is no source in the Bible for Dionysius’ understanding of gelgel as ‘revealing’. Brown, Driver and Briggs’ Hebrew Lexicon, however, gives gilgal = wheel, from galal = to roll or revolve.104 He would have had to have known Hebrew to have made the connection. Legalism It might seem strange for an Athenian pagan, newly converted to Christianity by St Paul, to have such a deep reverence for Old Testament law as Dionysius seems to have, particularly when one remembers Paul’s own attitude to the law. Considering his protested apophaticism, he is remarkably dogmatic about the nature of the various hierarchies. For although his God is portrayed as benevolent and loving, there is a worrying rigidity about the system: ‘We go where we are commanded by those divine ordinances which rule all the sacred ranks of the heavenly orders.’105 How militaristic this sounds! Each rank has a ‘permitted’ level of contemplation.106 Although each mind receives revelation according to its capacity, at the same time the individual appears to be fixed in a position in the hierarchy from which he may not move. A monk is not expected to graduate to become a priest, deacon or bishop, for example. Yet if each rank faithfully passes on to the rank below what it has itself received,107 how can the lower ranks help but progress upwards? This upward movement only happens, we are told, ‘because the splendid arrangement of divine law commands it’, ‘The law tells us to learn everything granted to us’ and it is ‘in obedience to such injunctions’ that we do so.108 His concept of justice might seem to be more in keeping with the God of the Old Testament than the Christian God of mercy and love: The perfect justice of God rejects those who break the Law109 . . . It is not permitted, according to the words of scripture, to perform what may even be a work of justice, except worthily. Everyone must look to himself and, without thinking of more 104

F. Brown, S.R. Driver and C.A. Briggs, A Hebrew Lexicon of the Old Testament (Oxford, 1906), 162–6 105 DN 1.2, 589A 106 DN 1.2, 588D; EH 6, 532D 107 DN 3.3, 684C 108 DN 3.3, 684C 109 Although this contradicts what he says in this letter and elsewhere about the mercy of God. It is a curious feature of Dionysius that from time to time he makes statements which are unrepresentative of his otherwise coherent beliefs

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist exalted or more profound tasks, he must think only about what has been assigned to his place.110

There are, however, two situations in which rules and discipline are appropriate: the army and the monastery. Whether or not Dionysius had a military background, he feels that an army type of discipline is necessary in a monastic setting: The man who . . . begins to climb up, rung by rung, is inscribed in the order of angels and counted among the company of spiritual beings and enrolled as a celestial soldier. Just as a peasant who joins the army is no longer a peasant but a soldier, so the man who voluntarily enrols in the corps of Christ and serves in the spiritual cohort changes his name from man to angel . . . 111 Both monks and angels have an order and a rule. John of Tella’s Canon 34 gives an example of a rule which concerns keeping in one’s place: Q: Is it allowed [for a deaconess] to take up the duties of an acolyte among herself and her sisters? A: The Canon absolutely forbids that she should enter the sanctuary when the priest and deacon are present. However, it is allowed when the priest goes to the convent without a deacon.112 The male deacon evidently takes precedence over the female deaconess, who is nevertheless allowed into the sanctuary to serve at the altar in his absence. To refuse permission for this would be to restrict celebration of the Liturgy to occasions when a male could be present to assist. This suggests a degree of flexibility in the interpretation of ecclesiastical rules in the early sixth century, which would undoubtedly not have been true of Temple practice in Old Testament times.113 The reason Dionysius gives for keeping the rules of the hierarchy is that ‘It would be quite wrong . . . ever to do anything or even to exist against the sacred orderings of him who is . . . the source of all perfection.’114 Now 110

Letter 8.1, 1089C–1092A Philoxenus of Mabbugh, Homily VII.192–3, SC 44, pp. 189–90 112 John of Tella, Resolutiones Canonicae, in Dissertatio de Syrorum Fide et Disciplina in Re Eucharistica, ed. T.J. Lamy (Louvain, 1859), pp. 62–97 113 The tightening up of the legal code in the time of Josiah was undoubtedly a response to previous laxity, which had been perceived as a danger: 2 Chronicles 34.14–21; 1 Samuel 13.8–14; 1 Samuel 21.1–6; 2 Samuel 24.1–10 114 CH 3.2, 165A 111

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this is reminiscent of the response of the [present–day] Orthodox Jew to criticism of his observance of the Law: ‘We do not seek to question or to change the Law; we keep it because the Holy One, in his wisdom, has given it to us’: If the Bible is to be for me the word of God, and Judaism and Jewish Law the revealed word of God, is it possible for me to ask my belly, my sensual enjoyment and comfort, my temporary advantage, whether it is also sweet and easy, or profitable or agreeable? Is it possible for me to take religion, my religion, which has been given to me by God as a standard with which to measure myself, my generation, and all my action and inaction, and trim it to fit the meanness, the sensuality, the petty-mindedness of my own desires at any particular time? . . . This word of God must be our eternal rule superior to all human judgement, the rule to which all our actions must at all times conform; and instead of complaining that it is no longer suitable to the times, our only complaint must be that the times are no longer suitable to it.115 A parent who does not wish his/her decisions to be questioned by a child may reply, ‘Because I say so.’ Dionysius takes the same line. God treats us like children with respect to the hierarchy of the law;116 we may not argue about it. There are three hierarchies: those of the law, of the church, and of the angels. The first is a necessary stepping-stone to the second, and the second to the third. We cannot bypass the law which Moses was given on Mount Sinai. This is the reason for giving such a prominent place to Moses and his ascent of Mount Sinai: it is the underpinning of the whole triple hierarchy. There is therefore no necessity to claim direct Jewish influence there. The God who must not be named The theme of the Oneness of God runs throughout the whole corpus to a degree that is difficult to fit in to the main stream of any major religion of the time other than Christianity or Judaism. On the one hand, there is so little reference to Christ that Dionysius has been accused of being 115 S.R. Hirsch, ‘Judaism up to date’, Judaism Eternal, ed. I. Grunfeld (London, 1956), pp. 213–23 116 EH 5.2, 501B

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a pagan pretending to be a Christian. Although he has much sympathy for Neoplatonism, there are several features of pagan beliefs of his time to which he is strongly opposed: transmigration of souls, for example.117 His reference to infant baptism being ridiculed by the impious118 may be aimed at the mystery cults. The extent of his apophaticism is closer to the late Neoplatonists Proclus and Damascius (particularly the latter) than to orthodox Christianity. But unless the angels are equivalent to the gods of Greek mythology, which is not convincing, their presence is a little puzzling. Their only realistic function, as a barrier to protect God’s transcendence, is not a Christian concept at all, but a Jewish one. For Christianity seeks to reveal God rather than to hide him. Later Neoplatonists saw the uselessness of attempting to name the Deity.119 No name or description applies to the ‘most glorious One’, not because it is less than other things, but because it is more.120 According to Proclus, in his Commentary on the Parmenides, the One is strictly speaking nameless.121 For Damascius, the One is before all names; it is not-something and not-named.122 There is no fear associated with attempting the impossible, just wasted effort. Judaism is a religion which particularly emphasizes worship of the one God, whose name must not be known by man. Dionysius goes still further; not even the angels may know this name,123 which is a name above every other name and is therefore no name.124 There is for the Jew a definite fear associated with attempts to name God or to define him too precisely. The name of God is holy and terrible.125 Many Orthodox Jews today write ‘G-d’ instead of ‘God’ and refer to Ha Shem (The Name) instead of ‘God’. Dionysius is closer to the Jew than to the Greek when he says: ‘We must not dare to resort to words or conceptions concerning that hidden divinity which transcends being, apart from what the sacred scriptures have divinely revealed.’126 Closely allied to this is the fear associated with the Holy of Holies. Whoever touches holy things unlawfully, even with 117

EH 7.I.2, 553C EH 7.III.11, 565D 119 See the anonymous hymn in Chapter 3.B.c 120 C.R. Kordig, The Mathematics of Mysticism in ‘The Structure of Being’, ed. R. Baine Harris (Albany, NY, 1982), p. 116 121 T. Whittaker, The Neo-Platonists (Hildesheim, 1961), pp. 261–3 122 ΑΠΟΡΙΑΙ ΚΑΙ ΛΥΣΕΙΣ ΠΕΡΙ ΤΩΝ ΠΡΩΤΩΝ ΑΡΧΩΝ I.3.2.8, ed. Westerink/Comb`es (Paris, 1986), p. 87 123 DN 13.4, 981C 124 DN 13.3, 981A 125 Ps. 111.9 126 DN 1.1, 588A 118

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good intentions, will die, as in the case of the unfortunate Uzzah in 1 Chronicles 13.7–10.127 Dionysius does not use the example of Uzzah in support of his argument. His criticism is of those who presume to go above their status, such as Nadab (Lev. 10.1–2), Korah (Numbers 16) and Uzziah (2 Chronicles 26.16–21). His concern is not so much to protect a fellow human being from danger as to protect the holy from defilement.128 It is notable here that he has not only raided the Old Testament rather than the New for justification for his theory of church hierarchy, but that he sees the complex and apparently irrelevant old Hebrew code of law as ‘the word of God’;129 a Jew would naturally view it as such. This element of fear in relation to God is not restricted to Judaism, however, although it is more explicit there. The perception of the numinous is also experienced by the Greeks as deØma panikìn;130 it is a feature of man’s coming face to face with the transcendent, in whatever context this might be. The sense of danger is a feature of theurgical operations, for example.131 Jewish mysticism The influence of Jewish angelology will be discussed in Chapter 2. Apart from knowing Philo, Dionysius was probably also directly acquainted with the Enoch literature and the Book of Jubilees. The most important theme of all these writings is the transcendence of God: the vast gulf between the divine and human being bridged only by many ranks of angelic beings. These are responsible, not only for the transmission of the Law to Moses, but also for its correct interpretation.132 In the Jewish Syriac Apocalypse of Baruch, Moses has a vision of throngs of angels studying the Law.133 In CH 4, 180B–181A Dionysius argues for transmission of the Law via the angels rather than directly from God to Moses. Ps-Dionysius wrote during the period when the great works of Merkabah and Hekhaloth mysticism were being collected together. This 127

See also Numbers 4.15,20 and Numbers 18.2–3,22,32 CH 2.5, 145A; EH 1.1, 372A; Ep. 9, 1105C, 1108A 129 Ep. 8.1, 1089C 130 R. Otto, The Idea of the Holy (Oxford, 1923), p. 14 131 G. Luck, ‘Theurgy and forms of worship in Neoplatonism’, Religion, Science & Magic, ed. J. Neusner et al. (Oxford, 1989), pp. 198–9 132 Book of Jubilees I.27f, trans. R.H. Charles (London, 1902); G. Scholem, Jewish Gnosticism, Merkabah Mysticism and Talmudic Tradition, (New York, 1960), pp. 12–14; M.J. Davidson, Angels at Qumran (Sheffield, 1992), pp. 311–13 133 The Apocryphal Old Testament, ed. H.F.D. Sparks (Oxford, 1984), p. 877; CH 7.3, 209B 128

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process of editing started in about the fourth century and continued until the sixth century. At this period, the sense of God’s extreme transcendence, power and unapproachability led to the development of several features which are of interest to the scholar. The concept of an ordered angelic hierarchy was a Jewish one which had developed as a result of Persian influence during the Babylonian captivity, and which subsequently influenced early Christianity, Gnosticism and Neoplatonism. God was like an Oriental monarch, surrounded by a large number of servants, through whom one must approach him.134 God’s glory is of such great power that even the angels must be shielded from it. Therefore there is a cosmic veil or curtain in front of the throne. This originated in the Enoch literature.135 A wall of light around the throne is a feature of the seventh firmament in the early fourth century magical book Sepher Ha-Razim.136 The combination of curtain and angelic hierarchy, together forming an impenetrable barrier between God and man, reappear as the Dazzling Darkness and Celestial Hierarchy in Dionysius. Another development in Judaism at this time was an interest in magic and alchemy. The sense of transcendence and unapproachability ‘opens the door to the transformation of mysticism into theurgy . . . ’.137 Theurgy is a legitimate feature of Hekhaloth mysticism, and not a corruption.138 In Judaism at this period, mystical ecstasy was attained by singing or chanting hymns and/or divine names, which were believed to aid the ascent: ‘The hymns describe . . . the spirit of majesty and solemnity that permeates the heavenly realm, the “Palaces of Silence” in which God’s Shekinah dwells; they also express the ideas of the writers about the many different angelic hosts and their part in the celestial liturgy.’139 The hymns of the angels are also found in magical writings such as The Hymn of the Archangels, by Moses the Prophet, claimed to be a ‘hymn of the archangels which the Lord gave to Moses upon Mount Sinai’.140 This consists of a string of incantations of a protective nature, with many names of angels and of God, often somewhat garbled. The literary quality is poor. We 134

J.M. Hull, Hellenistic Magic and the Synoptic Tradition (London, 1974), p. 38 G. Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism (London, 1955), p. 72 136 Sepher Ha-Razim: The Book of the Mysteries, trans. M.A. Morgan (Chico, California, 1983), p. 82 137 G. Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism, pp. 54–7 138 G. Scholem, Jewish Gnosticism, Merkabah Mysticism and Talmudic Tradition, p. 75 139 G. Scholem, Jewish Gnosticism, p. 20 140 R. Reitzenstein, Poimandres (Leipzig, 1904), pp. 292–9 135

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also find, in the Aggadah and magical papyri, the concept of knowledge being passed down to mankind from the angels (or rather, angel: Yophiel, the Prince of Torah, was responsible for distributing knowledge of the Torah to mankind.) There seems to have been a relationship between the revelations of this angel and the mystic ascent to heaven.141 In Rabbinic tradition, we find Moses’ meeting with God on Mount Sinai regarded as an ascent to heaven.142 The fourth century Hekhaloth Rabbati has angels at each stage of the ascent who, ‘perfecting and illuminating’ the mystic, lead him up to the angelic gate-keeper of the next level.143 A notable aspect of the Hekhaloth literature is the importance of the hymns of the angels and their use by mystics in the ascent.144 Dionysius’ teacher Hierotheus was, by all accounts, an accomplished exponent of this, his Hymns of Yearning being a collection of such hymns. Dionysius witnessed at least one mystical ascent in which hymns of this type were used: ‘He was so caught up, so taken out of himself . . . that everyone who heard him, everyone who saw him, everyone who knew him (or, rather, did not know him) considered him to be inspired, to be speaking with divine praises.’145 This sounds like glossolalia, which is known to have occurred in religious traditions other than Christianity. Significantly, it was prevalent in circles where the Greater Hekhaloth (3 Enoch) was used. In the ninth century, Hai Gaon mentioned the use of glossolalia in connection with the ascent to heaven.146 Some of the secret names used in these mystical ascents give the impression ‘of having been born, not from natural language, but by a process of glossolalia. Suppressed emotion is released in a stream of mystical language – names and words that resemble only in a vague way the general tenor of known languages such as Greek, Hebrew or Coptic.’147 Paul’s experience of speaking in tongues presumably had its origin in such a Jewish environment. The Apocalypse of Abraham and the Testament of Job both make reference to humans being enabled to speak the 141

G. Scholem, Jewish Gnosticism, p. 13 P.W.Van der Horst, ‘Moses’ Throne Vision in Ezekiel the Dramatist’, Journal of Jewish Studies 34.1 (1963): 21–9 143 A. Kaplan, Meditation and Kabbalah (York Beach, Maine, 1982), pp. 46-7 144 J.H. Charlesworth, The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha I (London, 1983), p. 233; M. Himmelfarb, Ascent to Heaven in Jewish and Christian Apocalypses (Oxford, 1993), pp. 35–6; I. Chernus, Mysticism in Rabbinic Judaism (Berlin, 1982), pp. 20– 24 145 DN 3.2, 681D–684A 146 A.F. Segal, Paul the Convert (New Haven, Connecticut, 1990), p. 55 147 G. Scholem, Jewish Gnosticism, p. 33 142

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language of the angels: a type of glossolalia.148 Dionysius discusses the difficulty of fitting the incident in Isaiah 6.6 (where a seraph touches the prophet’s lips with a burning coal) into his overall scheme for the angelic hierarchy. He confides that ‘someone has provided me with an answer to this problem’.149 It so happens that Jacob of Serugh also had a discussion with an unnamed Jew on the interpretation of Isaiah 6.6,150 which may be more than a coincidence. This person, obviously well versed in Jewish angelology, comes from a religious tradition with a belief in the angelic hierarchy and guardian angels. He equates divine power with light. He is a visionary who accepts that it is possible to see into heaven, even to the very throne of God; a practitioner of Hekhaloth mysticism, in fact. As the chapter proceeds, the identity of this person becomes merged with that of Hierotheus. His teaching is that of Hierotheus. They belong to the same circle. There is no hint of any Christian doctrine in this chapter, and no allusion to the New Testament. It is hard not to conclude that this unnamed person was a Jew, probably a rabbi, and that Hierotheus had been a member of the same school of Hekhaloth mysticism. Philo Philo’s influence on Christian mysticism is well known,151 so I will not go into it in detail. There were six main reasons why Dionysius may have found Philo useful as a source of inspiration: 1) he saw Judaism as a mystery religion; 2) his ardent monotheistic apophaticism; 3) his light mysticism; 4) his use of allegory; 5) his developed angelology; 6) he wrote on the life of Moses; 7) he was more or less contemporary with the first Dionysius. 148

D. Christie-Murray, Voices from the Gods (London, 1978), p. 35 CH 13.3, 300C 150 Homily 125, in R.C. Chesnut, Three Monophysite Christologies (Oxford, 1976), pp. 137–8 151 B. McGinn, The Foundations of Mysticism (London, 1991), p. 37 149

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Dionysius does not follow Philo slavishly. Where angels are concerned, for example, he differs from him in a number of important respects: i) Philo’s angels may be good or evil, beneficial or punitive; in the Dionysian system, angels are solely good and beneficial. ii) Philo’s angels work as intermediaries in both directions, taking messages from God to man or from man to God; Dionysius’ system is one-way: information only passes from God towards man. iii) Philo’s angels are instruments of divine providence, ‘ministers and helpers, to have charge and care of mortal man’ (Giants 3.12). For Dionysius, the upper ranks have only one function, which is to praise God. The aim of the hierarchy as a whole is transmission of knowledge, leading to man becoming more and more Godlike. His angels are not guardian angels in the Jewish sense. iv) As a result of (iii), Philo’s angels are free to move about: ‘they range through the air and heaven’ (De Confusione Linguarum 35.176). The angels of Dionysius seem to be fixed in their orbits, as it were. Undoubtedly this is an essential feature of his system. Philo has a primitive threefold hierarchy of hierarch, priests and laity: ‘The ordinary type of good man is represented by Bezaleel, Aaron and Miriam, who learned from Moses, while Moses learned from God’ (Legum Allegoria 3.100–103). Moses is equivalent to the hierarch (see Giants 12), while Bezaleel, Aaron and Miriam are on a lower level; they are equivalent to the priests. Dionysius may have derived some inspiration from Philo for his concept of an ecclesiastical hierarchy.

1.3.2

Neoplatonism

Aware that their names would be a give-away, Dionysius avoids identifying his Neoplatonist sources, attributing where necessary to the mythical Hierotheus who is also, mirabile dictu, a Christian bishop. It is curious that he refers to his teacher and his doctrinal contributions only in Divine Names and the two Hierarchies. This is a feature of Dionysius; his borrowings (whether real or pretended) often seem to occur in clusters restricted to certain sections of the corpus. The Neoplatonist teachings which he claims ‘Hierotheus’ has passed on to him include Procession and Return,152 God as beyond being, beyond 152

DN 4, 713A–D

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perfection, beyond life, etc.153 and the division of the angels into three threefold groups.154 The first of these teachings, Procession and Return ( mone, proodos, epistrophe) is a standard Platonist teaching; the second (God as beyond being, etc.) is particularly emphasized by Damascius. Dionysius is certainly indebted to Proclus for his concept of a threefold order of being which is subdivided into triads.155 But, as I shall show, the Dionysian and Neoplatonist systems are not the same. Strictly speaking, Dionysius’ angels are not equivalent to the angels in late Neoplatonism, which were essentially those of the Chaldaean Oracles. To the pagans, angels were gods rather than intermediate beings between divine and human as in Christianity; to be a god meant simply to be immortal. There are numerous levels of divine beings. The emperor Julian defined a hierarchy as consisting of a presiding god and under him an angel, a daemon, a hero and an order of spirits which obey the higher powers.156 The Chaldaean Oracles, so beloved by the later Athenian Neoplatonists have the concept of a universal threefold structure of being:157

pantÈ g€r ân kìsmú lˆmpei triˆc hc mon€c Šrqei [In every world a triad shines forth, of which a monad is the principle.] Damascius, who was the last head of the Platonist Academy in Athens at the time of its closure by Justinian in 529AD, has an Intelligible Triad of Father, Power and Intellect, each of which is divided into three. These are not angels in the Judaeo-Christian sense either, but emanations from the Paternal Intellect.158 Nevertheless, the Neoplatonic concept of a universal threefold structure may well have given Dionysius the idea for his system. Scholars are not unanimous about Dionysius’ Neoplatonist sources. The main consensus of opinion is that Proclus is his main source, with some input from Iamblichus and Porphyry. Sheldon-Williams argued for Iamblichus as his immediate source, but is unconvincing,159 since Grondijs had already shown that Dionysius’ use of ÍperagnwsÐa and timiìthc was a 153

DN 2, 648A–D CH 6, 200D, 201A 155 E.R. Dodds, Proclus: The Elements of Theology (Oxford, 1933), pp. 252–4; L.J. Ros´an, The Philosophy of Proclus (New York, 1949), pp. 135–6 156 Against the Galileans 143A–B, W.C. Wright, The Works of the Emperor Julian III (London, 1923), p. 354–5 157 H. Lewy, Chaldaean Oracles and Theurgy (Paris, 1978), p. 106 158 H. Lewy, Chaldaean Oracles and Theurgy, p. 162 159 Studia Patristica 8 (1966): 108–16 154

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clear indication of his dependence on the post-Procline philosophers of the Athenian school, these terms not having been in use previously.160 Sopater of Apamea was a disciple of Iamblichus until he converted to Christianity in 325AD. Was he the inspiration for the Sosipater in Epistle 6? Particularly interesting are the striking similarities which have been noticed between Ps-Dionysius and Damascius.161 Lilla accepts the influence of Porphyry, as well as Damascius and Proclus, on Ps-Dionysius.162 I also believe that, quite apart from using Damascius as a stylistic model, Dionysius borrows from him several concepts which are not in Proclus:163 i) That there is an Ineffable Principle beyond the One. ii) The Ineffable dwells in thick darkness (which may well come from the Hermetica, where the unique principle of all is called the Unknowable Darkness.164 Dionysius’ use of darkness as a dwelling place for God is well known. Other traces of Hermetic and Egyptian influence – such as the need for silence – might also come via Damascius, who, unlike Proclus and other Neoplatonists of this period, was particularly interested in Egyptian religion. iii) The search for God is like scrambling up a mountain.165 iv) Matter is not evil; it is the last echo of the universal principle.166 Proclus was the first to react against the attitude found in Plotinus and the Chaldaean Oracles that matter was evil. Since they were contemporaries, it is quite possible that Damascius may have been Dionysius’ first port of call, so to speak, and that further work led him to Proclus, Porphyry, Iamblichus, etc. 160

Studia Patristica 5 (1962): 325 Damascius le Diadoche, trans. A.–E. Chaignet (Paris, 1898), pp. xliii–iv; R.F. Hathaway, Hierarchy and the Definition of Order in the Letters of Pseudo-Dionysius (The Hague, 1969), pp. 17–21 162 Y. de Andia, Henosis: l’Union a` Dieu chez Denys L’Ar´eopagite (Leiden, 1996), p. 55; S. Lilla, in Y. de Andia, ed., ’Pseudo-Denys l’Ar´eopagite, Porphyre et Damascius’, Denys L’Ar´eopagite et sa Post´erit´e en Orient et en Occident (Paris, 1997), pp. 117-52 163 R. Griffith, ‘Neoplatonism and Christianity: Pseudo-Dionysius and Damascius’, Studia Patristica 29 (1997): 238–43 164 Trait´e des Premiers Principes III.167 and II, trans. J. Comb`es (Paris, 1986), pp. 11, 30 165 Trait´e des Premiers Principes I, p. 82 166 Trait´e des Premiers Principes I , p. 109 161

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1.3.3

Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist

Hermeticism

Although the Hermetic writings cannot be considered to enshrine any single coherent system of teachings, there is a sense of God’s benevolence which Dionysius shares. Clement of Alexandria, Cyril of Alexandria, Didymus the Blind and Synesius of Cyrene all knew of books of Hermetic writings. Didymus quotes Hermes several times in De Trinitate and seems to have been well disposed towards the Hermetica.167 Cyril commented that ‘this Hermes of Egypt, although he was a theurgist . . . had the good sense to acquire the writings of Moses, even if he did not use them at all blamelessly or correctly . . . ’.168 This is interesting, because if Dionysius was engaged in working out ideas involving both Moses and theurgy, he might have turned to the Hermetic writings for information. Did he, for example, have the mixing bowl of Corpus Hermeticum IV in mind when writing Ep. 9, 3–6 (1109B–1113C)? With the exception of Iamblichus and Damascius, Neoplatonists in general ignored the Hermetica. Since Ps-Dionysius was certainly influenced by Iamblichus and Damascius, he might have learnt of the Hermetica through them. Perhaps he read Iamblichus because the latter was a known source of information about Egyptian religion. The Syrian Bardaisan had also been interested in Hermetic ideas.169 Drijvers finds many parallels between Bardaisan and the Hermetica.170 The importance of worshipping the Ineffable in silence171 is one of the key features of Hermeticism. Dionysius explains in the Mystical Theology (MT 3, 1033B–C) that the more words we use to describe God, the further we are from him. As we draw closer, our words become less and less until finally no words at all can be used, since we are finally at one with the Indescribable. This is very close to the Hermetic teaching: ‘In the moment when you have nothing to say about it, you will see it, for the knowledge of it is divine silence and suppression of all the senses.’172 But Porphyry also taught this, and he may also have been a channel for transmitting Hermetic ideas to Dionysius. Another close parallel between Dionysius and the Corpus Hermeticum can be found in EH 2.7, 404B: ‘To us, death is not, as others imagine, a 167

G. Fowden, The Egyptian Hermes (Cambridge, 1986), pp. 179–80 B. Copenhaver, Hermetica, (Cambridge, 1992), p. xlii 169 B. Copenhaver, Hermetica, p. xlv 170 H.J.W. Drijvers, ‘Bardaisan of Edessa and the Hermetica’, Jaarberichte ex Oriente Lux 21 (1969–70): 190–210 171 For example, Poimandres, Corpus Hermeticum I.31–2, B. Copenhaver, Hermetica, p. 7; there are many other instances 172 B. Copenhaver, Hermetica, CH X.5, p. 31 168

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complete dissolution of being. It is, rather, the separation of two parts which had been linked together.’ Compare this with: ‘Death is not the destruction of things that have been combined, but the dissolution of their union.’173 Again, although this is too close for mere coincidence, it should be noted that the idea is found elsewhere and therefore direct Hermetic influence should not necessarily be assumed. The Hermetic writings also deal with the problem of naming God: This is the god who is greater than any name . . . There is nothing that he is not, for he also is all that is, and this is why he has all names, because they are of one father, and this is why he has no name, because he is father of them all.174 Names were of great importance, both in Gnosticism and in Egyptian magic. The characteristically Hermetic word theoptia is used by Dionysius in four places: EH 4, 481B; EH 6, 537B; Ep. 8, 1085A; Ep. 8, 1097B. This is a special vision granted to Moses and the prophets and other such persons of note. Didymus uses the word in De Trinitate 1.19, 20b.175 Dionysius’ first two examples refer to angels, the third to Moses, the fourth to Carpos; none refer to lesser mortals. This kind of elitism seems foreign to the Hermeticists, although we do not know what requirements there may have been for becoming an initiate. Unlike the mystery cults, the Hermeticists seem to have shied away from priesthoods, ceremonies and hierarchies, although the injunction to secrecy, together with a positive requirement for passing on the teachings to the next generation, is a characteristic of Hermeticism. Hermetic teachings were frequently read by Christians in the form of anthologies or florilegia such as that of Stobaeus. If Dionysius did read them for himself, rather than learning of them through Iamblichus, Porphyry or Damascius, it was most likely in this form.

1.3.4

The Mandaeans/Sabians

This baptizing sect was particularly associated with the Syrian town of Harran. Hermes and Agathos Daimon were looked upon as their prophets, since they considered the Egyptians to be their spiritual ancestors.176 Great stress was laid on gnosis, together with a form of 173

CH XI.15, Copenhaver, p. 40 CH V.10, Copenhaver, p. 20 175 G.W.H. Lampe, A Patristic Greek Lexicon (Oxford, 1961), p. 632 176 O. St Victor, Epiphany (Louvain, 1991), p. 66 174

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light-mysticism. They had a celestial hierarchy of 10 angels.177 There was also a church hierarchy, arranged in fixed grades and steps, details of which were surrounded by a secrecy similar to that of the mystery cults; each order was named after an animal.178 Presumably they would have been known to Dionysius. I suspect that any influence on him would probably have been of a negative kind: that is, he would have been writing to combat what he felt were undesirable elements, rather than making any of their teachings his own.

1.3.5

Alchemy and Magic

Dionysius makes no attempt to hide the influence on him of the Chaldaean Oracles and the practice of theurgy. Presumably his readers were unaware that this movement postdated the genuine Areopagite by some 150 years. jeourgoÐ were the initiates of the mystery religion founded by Julian the Chaldaean and his son Julian the Theurgist at the end of the second century AD. The aim of the cult was to achieve immortality by progressive purification of body and soul. Their principal sacrament was ‚nagwg  (‘elevation’), in which the soul of the initiate was united with a ray of light from the sun.179 Dionysius’ debt to the Chaldaeans can be seen in EH 1.1, 372B: ‘We thereby come to look up to the blessed and ultimately divine ray of Jesus himself . . . We shall then be able to be consecrated and consecrators of this mysterious understanding. Formed of light, initiates in God’s work [jeourgikoÈ], we shall be perfected and bring about perfection.’ This suggests that he had personally been a participant in the ‚nagwg , and was therefore an initiate of the Chaldaean religion. This is consistent with his having been a pupil of Proclus or Damascius. Dionysius’ reference to Hierotheus ‘having a sympathy with’ divine things could be taken as implying that Hierotheus also was a Neoplatonist practitioner of theurgy,180 cosmic sympathy being one of the main principles of theurgy.181 However, the concept of sympathy is basic to magical operations in general, so Hierotheus could have been a practitioner of a different form of magic. We will see shortly what this might be. Alchemy was considered by its practitioners as another ‘sacred art’ 177

T.M. Green, The City of the Moon God (Leiden, 1992), pp. 208–9 R. Reitzenstein, Poimandres, pp. 166–72 179 H. Lewy, Chaldaean Oracles, p. 60 180 DN 2.9, 648B 181 G. Luck, ‘Theurgy and forms of worship in Neoplatonism’, Religion, Science and Magic, ed. J. Neusner, E.S. Frerichs and P.V.M. Flesher (Oxford, 1989), p. 189 178

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like theurgy. Its aim likewise was to free the soul and assist its union with the divine. Mystery religion language was used, as it was with theurgy, Hermeticism, astrology and other forms of magic.182 Written in Greek, either in Egypt or under Egyptian influence, the alchemical writings have much in common with the Hermetica. Practical purposes apart (development of dyes and paints, metallurgy, medicine), alchemy had a spiritual side to it, the aim of which was union of the soul with the divine. Like the mystery religions and the Hermetica, there was a ban on divulging handed-down secrets to the wrong people. To ensure secrecy, allegorical language was used. Many of the recipes cannot be carried out as they stand, since some of the words used for the ingredients (e.g. egg yolk, serpent’s bile) actually represent something else (which may or may not be identifiable). There is an interesting passage which illustrates use of the allegorical method in alchemy,183 where the dead in Hades are awakened by life-giving water, which ‘reaches and awakes them . . . the fresh waters . . . produced by the action of fire, penetrate. The cloud supports them: it rises up from the sea, upholding the waters.’ This is to be understood on several levels: i) as a fairly straightforward description of a chemical reaction between a solid and a condensed liquid falling on it during distillation ii) as a description of the growth of seeds and the natural cycle of water descending as rain and ascending in evaporation by the sun iii) as an allegory of the body, soul and spirit. There are several interesting parallels between the Dionysian corpus and the alchemical writings which I have been able to examine: I) The third to fourth century alchemist Zosimus had a recipe for a calcium compound, made from alabaster and vinegar, which he calls tä must rion ‚metˆdoton , the incommunicable mystery. No prophet has dared to initiate anyone to this mystery by words; gestures alone may be used. The mystery is so precious that alchemists dare not pronounce its name. It is ‘the stone which is not a stone; which is unknowable and known by all; which is unworthy of honour 182 183

Les Alchimistes Grecs, IV(1), trans. M. Mertens (Paris, 1995), p. 233 M. Berthelot, Collection des Anciens Alchimistes Grecs (London, 1963), IV.xx, pp. 281–6

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist and highly honoured; which is not a gift, being a divine gift . . . ’,184 an anticipation of Dionysius’ positive and negative theology. The ultimate mystery not only cannot be, but must not be, named.

II) Zosimus describes in his Authentic Memories X.2 how he heard a voice from heaven saying: ‘I have accomplished the descent of the forty dark-light [skotofeggeØc] steps and have climbed the steps which are blazing with light.’185 The word skotofeggeØc is also found in Poimandres, where Copenhaver translates it as ‘shadowy light’: ‘Escape the shadowy light. Leave corruption behind and take a share in immortality.’186 III) Moses was an important figure for alchemists of the third century and later. The Leiden Papyrus contains a number of works attributed to him, such as the Book of the Archangels, The Secret Book of Moses, The Key,187 the Chemistry of Moses188 and other apocryphal works. The Book of the Archangels claims to be a ‘hymn of the archangels which the Lord gave to Moses upon Mount Sinai’.189 Moses was important to alchemists because they had a tradition that the secrets of their art were originally taught to Moses by the angels. Dionysius refers to the hymns sung by the angels in CH 7.4, 212A–B and in CH 13.4, 305A. He claims to have dealt with this topic in some detail in a fictitious work, Divine Hymns.190 He mentions several times that the Law was given by the angels,191 in conformity with the teaching of Paul.192 This fits in with his general theme of knowledge being transmitted through the hierarchies of the angels and the Church, from the seraphim down to the meanest penitent. If there were no link between the lowest rank of angels and the hierarch (Moses in this case),193 his scheme would not work. The Hymn of the Archangels is a magical work containing many prophylactic incantations which use the names of angels and of God. Apart from Gabriel and Michael, Dionysius is conspicuous for the lack of names for his 184

Les Alchimistes Grecs IV(1), p. 233 Les Alchimistes Grecs, IV(1), p. 35 186 Corpus Hermeticum 1, in B.P. Copenhaver, Hermetica, p. 6 187 M. Berthelot, Collection des Anciens Alchimistes Grecs, p. 16 188 M. Berthelot, Collection des Anciens Alchimistes Grecs, pp. 287–302 189 R. Reitzenstein, Poimandres, pp. 56, 292–9 190 CH 7.4, 212B 191 CH 4.2, 180B; CH 4.3, 181A; CH 4.4, 181C 192 Gal. 3.19, Heb. 2.2 193 Philo of Alexandria, trans. D. Winston (London, 1981), p. 69 (Giants 12) 185

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angels. It is possible that he is reacting against the use of divine names for incantatory purposes, although invocation as understood by pagans is certainly not entirely foreign to him. In CH 1.2 he calls upon Jesus using the word âpikalesˆmenoi; âpikalèw is used when a god is called by name in order to summon him.194 After this, Jesus has no further function in the passage. IV) Dionysius’ ‘famous teacher’ Hierotheus is yet to be identified. There are, however, several alchemists of this name, all Christians. The first was author of an iambic poem, suggesting a third to fourth century dating.195 It may well be later than this, since it uses some of the ideas and images of Stephanos, who flourished some time between the fifth and seventh centuries. A very similar poem by Heliodorus must have been fifth to sixth century, as its author was a pupil of Proclus.196 The second Hierotheus wrote a tantalizingly undated treatise on the Sacred Art, published by Berthelot.197 The third Hierotheus wrote in the ninth century AD. Recipes were often attributed to historical individuals who were known alchemists of repute, or believed to be so (as in the case of Moses). Consequently, even if all these recipes by Hierotheus are later than Dionysius, the attribution of three recipes to Christians named Hierotheus is very significant, since it suggests that the teacher of Dionysius was believed to be an alchemist. Christianity and alchemy were not felt to be incompatible, in spite of Justinian’s attempt to outlaw alchemy. The alchemist Synesius may have been the same person as Synesius of Cyrene.198 That alchemy was known and practised in the circles to which Dionysius belonged can be seen from the dedication of one of the treatises of ‘The Christian Philosopher’ to Sergius of Reshaina.199 One passage in another of his treatises, Disagreement of the Ancients, is very reminiscent of Ps-Dionysius: They all use common words to indicate the hidden meaning of the one knowledge; whereas they have compiled the lists of species in symbolic words, distinguishing, as they have been permitted, intelligent men from those deprived of sense. For intelligence has not 194

H.G. Liddell and R. Scott, A Greek–English Lexicon (Oxford, 1849) H. Kopp, Die Alchemie in alterer und neuerer Zeit II (Hildesheim, 1962), p. 310 196 M. Berthelot, Les Origines de l’Alchimie, pp. 74–6 197 M. Berthelot, Collection des Anciens Alchimistes Grecs VI.xix, pp. 422–3 and 450–51 198 Les Alchimistes Grecs, ed. R. Halleux (Paris, 1981) I, p. 72 199 Berthelot, Collection des Anciens Alchimistes Grecs VI.ii, pp. 378–9, 386–7 195

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist been given to everyone, and not everyone is capable of understanding knowledge plainly; but most of them will mock the truth when someone obliges them to hear it.200 ‘The Christian Philosopher’, practising in the first half of the sixth century, was, like Dionysius, a highly educated man with a knowledge of Greek philosophy, Christian theology and alchemy.201 His use of the phrase ‘as they have been permitted’ suggests a certain familiarity with the writing of Origen. Lindsay202 describes him as a Byzantine monk of the early sixth century, but does not justify this statement. The Arab encyclopaedia Kitab-al-Fihrist, written about 850AD, includes two Christian alchemists named Sergius, authors respectively of The Book of Sergius addressed to the Bishop of Edessa and The Book of the Monk Sergius on Magic.203 In view of Justinian’s ban on alchemy and magic, these would have had to have been composed before 529AD; their author or authors were therefore contemporaries of Ps-Dionysius. Sergius of Reshaina himself was an alchemist of some importance, being mentioned in several lists of prominent alchemical practitioners.204 Unfortunately, none of his own alchemical treatises survive.

V) Dionysius is at home with the colour symbolism of stones and metals: ‘multicoloured stones . . . must be taken to work symbolically as follows: white for light, red for fire, yellow for gold, green for youthful vitality’.205 Then in Letter 6 he may be thinking of alchemical colours when he rebukes Sosipater: ‘What is not red does not have to be white.’ In other words, there are more heavenly bodies than the sun (red) and the moon (white). This could equally well be a reference to Zechariah 1.8 or Rev. 6.2–8, although it should be noted that he frequently hides his real sources by choosing examples which could also be attributed to a different religious tradition. The point is that he appears to be aware of such colour symbolism. The large collection of writings, transmitted as a secret tradition under the name of Moses,206 is third century and so could conceivably have 200

My translation; see also CH 2, 140B and EH 1, 376C M. Berthelot, Les Origines de l’Alchimie, p. 203 202 J. Lindsay, The Origins of Alchemy in Graeco-Roman Egypt (London, 1970), pp. 371–2 203 J. Lindsay, The Origins of Alchemy, p. 66 204 M. Berthelot, Les Origines de l’Alchimie, pp. 74–6 205 CH 15.7, 336B–C 206 M. Berthelot, Collection des Anciens Alchimistes Grecs, p. 16. Leiden Papyrus W consists 201

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attracted Dionysius’ attention, particularly as he also had an interest in theurgy. The use of allegorical language to convey a secret tradition is, of course, found in Dionysius. By the sixth century, the use of the ‘coded’ language used by alchemists to convey information which was not intended for public eyes, would have been more in keeping with an involvement with alchemy, theurgy or magic than with Christianity. Dionysius twice refers to the power of the Scriptures to ward off evil. This is more characteristic of magic (or at least of pagan superstition) than of Christianity, but it may be more a reflection of his readers’ attitudes than of his own. In the first case, the singing or reading of the Scriptures seems to be sufficient of itself to ‘deliver from the opponent’s terrifying curse those who are possessed’.207 Initiates in good standing, i.e. neither penitents nor possessed, ‘will draw from these [readings] the holy power of protection against all relapse into evil’. That the Bible is not simply being used as a guide to the way the Christian should live is shown by the other example: ‘Let us preserve the treasures lying therein, adding nothing to it and in no way diminishing or distorting it. If we watch over the Scriptures, we ourselves will be watched over by them, guarding them and being guarded.’208 Spells and incantations must be repeated exactly; they must be word perfect, or else the magic will not work. There is also the sheer passivity of it all. Does one really have to do nothing more than hear the Bible being read to be saved? Dionysius’ description of sinners as those ‘held fast by opposing charms’ (taØc ânantÐaic « jèlxesin )209 suggests that this is indeed the case; jèlgw means ‘to enchant’ or ‘to charm by means of sorcery’. In general, Dionysius’ insistence on the precise performance of ritual, together with a repeated stress on the necessity of excluding certain categories of person, might be indicative of involvement in some magical circle or other. Given the importance of divine names in, for example, Gnosticism, Dionysius’ interest in the matter may also indicate some magical influence. But his apophatic language serves to counteract it. He does not believe in manipulating the divine powers for our own ends,210 largely of works attributed to Moses, including The Monad, The Key, The Secret Book of Moses, The Book of the Archangels. Berthelot considers The Domestic Chemistry of Moses to be another of this type, and probably of the same period 207 EH 4, 477A. There is a misprint in the CWS edition; it should read ‘opponent’s’, not ‘opponents” 208 DN 2.2, 640B 209 EH 3.III.7, 433B 210 DN 3.1, 680D

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for ‘No name can lay hold of [God].’211

1.4

Conclusion

There is general agreement among scholars that Ps-Dionysius’ sources are (on the pagan side) Athenian Neoplatonism and (on the Christian side) the Alexandrian exegetical school. I have tried to look more carefully at his borrowings, in order to shed more light on his background and motives for writing anonymously and in such an elaborate and complex manner. Considering the extreme care with which the corpus was constructed, it is obvious that the author was not writing a forgery for his own amusement, but that there is far more to the deception than has hitherto been supposed. At the time of writing, no other churchman found it necessary to hide his Christological beliefs under a cloak of anonymity. In any case, an individual’s beliefs were usually well known, both to his friends and to his enemies. There were a few exceptions; Sergius of Reshaina and Leontius of Byzantium, to name two, seem to have been ambiguous in their allegiance. For the most part, however, a man was proud to stand up for his faith. Dionysius claims to follow Paul, but where first century thought is concerned, he owes more to Philo than to Paul. Clement of Alexandria is particularly important in that he introduced the idea of the church hierarchy as an imitation of the angelic one, as well as use of the allegorical method in biblical exegesis. Yet Dionysius did not follow his angelology any more than he followed that of Philo. From Gregory of Nyssa comes the idea of finding God in the darkness. Although it is tempting to speculate on a possible Jewish background, the only convincing Jewish influence is that of Hekhaloth mysticism. The author’s use of Hekhaloth literature and his knowledge of glossolalia and the mystical ascent points in this direction, rather than towards pagan mystery religion. Dionysius’ somewhat authoritarian approach suggests a Syrian monastic milieu where discipline may be a problem. Perhaps there had been claims, by certain individuals with an interest in Hekhaloth mysticism, that mystical ascent leads to direct knowledge of the divine. Stephen Bar Sudhaili and his disciples were such persons; there could well have been others. The concept of an angelic hierarchy does not owe its origin to the Athenian Neoplatonists, as has been generally assumed, although he does derive much from them: not least the language with which he has chosen 211

DN 7.3, 872A

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to veil himself, the strong sense of three-ness, and the concept of the One, who is also the Good and the Beautiful. To Semitic pagans, the heavens were full of angels and other spirits; a particular interest in angels is therefore a Syrian, rather than a Greek, trait. Origen and Evagrius are probably responsible for his apparent lack of interest in Jesus as Christ. Neoplatonists, of course, could not be expected to believe in the second person of the Trinity. So Dionysius found it very convenient to hide both his angelology and his Christology behind a Neoplatonist facade. His contemporary, Damascius, is a probable source of information about Neoplatonist vocabulary and concepts. Like so much else used by Dionysius, the Dazzling Darkness has its origin in Egypt with the Pistis Sophia or related writings, which would argue for a connection with Valentinian or Sethian Gnosticism. Also in Egypt, the Hermetica, with their emphasis on worshipping the Ineffable with silence, and the concept of God being both many-named and nameless, were also known by Dionysius. He may have come to them via Damascius, or via some sort of florilegium. I am inclined to think that it was Damascius, because of the stylistic similarities between the two men. Dionysius had a closer connection with alchemy than he perhaps found convenient. His curiously guarded and obscure style, which both reveals and hides at the same time, as if to say ‘Let him that hath ears, let him hear’, has more in common with his contemporary ‘The Christian Philosopher’ than with the Alexandrian exegetical school. The author of the Dionysian corpus had a wide knowledge of Neoplatonism, theurgy and alchemy. His theology betrays Evagrian influence, although he is certainly not an uncritical supporter.

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Chapter 2 The Angelic Hierarchy 2.1

Introduction

The celestial hierarchy is obviously of great importance to Dionysius, since he devotes more chapters to it than to any other topic. In view of the lack of a generally accepted systematized hierarchy of angels in the early sixth century, his determination to create one is highly significant. It is, in fact, central to his whole scheme. I have therefore chosen to look at the Angelic Hierarchy in detail before proceeding to the other topics. Dionysius’ celestial hierarchy comprises (from the top downwards): Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones; Dominions, Powers, Authorities; Principalities, Archangels, Angels. Although all these names are found in the Bible in one place or another,1 they are not arranged in any particular order there, nor are they all found together. Isaiah has Seraphim, who praise God and purify the unclean lips of the prophet; Psalm 80 has Cherubim, on whom the Lord is seated. The angels in Ezekiel are neither of these, but Hayyoth (living creatures) with four wings, four faces and wheels; they recur later in 3 Enoch.2 The four faces are those of a man, a lion, an ox and an eagle. Dionysius is not prepared to accept them at all, in spite of their presence in the prophetic writings of the Old Testament: We cannot . . . profanely visualize these heavenly and godlike intelligences as actually having numerous feet and faces. They are not shaped to resemble the brutishness of oxen or to display the wildness of lions. They do not have the curved beak of the 1

Isaiah 6.2–6; Ps. 80.1; Ezekiel 1.10; Romans 8.38; Ephesians 1.21; Colossians 1.16; 1 Thessalonians 4.16 2 3 Enoch 21, J.H. Charlesworth, ed., The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha I (London, 1983), p. 277

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist eagle or the wings and feathers of birds. We must not have pictures of flaming wheels whirling in the skies . . . .3

Dionysius is not simply condemning the pictorial representation of angels in general here; it is this particular rank of angels, the Hayyoth of Ezekiel, that he is rejecting. They do not have a place in his angelic hierarchy. In the New Testament, angels are only given a classification of any kind in the Pauline epistles, and even here it is somewhat patchy. 1 Thessalonians has archangels; Romans has angels, principalities and powers; Colossians has thrones, dominions, principalities and authorities, while Ephesians has the ambiguous ‘authority and power and dominion’. Apart from this grouping, Paul does not go into any further details of their relationship with each other. Nor is it at all clear from the text whether he is referring to cosmic or earthly powers, although 2 Cor. 10.3–4 is definitely about cosmic powers: ‘For though we live in the world we are not carrying on a worldly war, for the weapons of our warfare are not worldly but have divine power to destroy strongholds.’ Schmithals was inclined to identify the angels of Colossians 2.18 with the elemental spirits of the cosmos [stoicheia], who were hostile powers. Along with the ‘principalities and powers’, they were sources of the human commands and teachings to which Paul was so antagonistic.4 In view of Paul’s problems with Gnostic groups, and his relative equanimity towards persecution by earthly powers, I feel that Paul’s principalities, powers, thrones, dominions and authorities are more likely to be cosmic powers than earthly ones. Dionysius jumped at the chance of using them as cosmic powers. Nowhere in the Bible is there a ninefold angelic hierarchy. As we shall see, this seems to be a later invention, although Goodenough believed the list in Colossians to be a part of an angelic hierarchy already existing in Hellenistic Judaism.5 The Shepherd of Hermas describes angels in the form of young men, building a tower; other angels of an inferior status bring them stones.6 The Letter of Ignatius to the Trallians also refers to a hierarchy: ‘heavenly things, the ranks of the angels and the hierarchy of principalities . . . ’. In any case, there appear to be several angelologies in use at the time, judging by the variations in extant writings. The invention of the ninefold hierarchy is usually attributed to Ps-Dionysius himself, since it does not appear in an identical form 3

CH 2.1, 137A W. Schmithals, ‘The Corpus Paulinum and Gnosis’, The New Testament and Gnosis, ed. A.H.B. Logan and A.J.M. Wedderburn (Edinburgh, 1983), p. 118 5 E.R. Goodenough, By Light, Light (New Haven, Connecticut, 1935), p. 344 6 Vision 3:12, The Apostolic Fathers, trans. J.B. Lightfoot and J.R. Harmer (2nd edn, Leicester, 1990), p. 203 4

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before his time. He was, however, not without predecessors. Clement of Alexandria had three orders of angels: Protoktistoi, Archangels and Angels. Irenaeus had seven orders (Angels, Archangels, Thrones, Illuminations, Principalities, Powers and Virtues);7 Gregory of Nyssa had eight; Gregory of Nazianzen had eleven. But from the fourth century onwards, nine was the most common number, and was found in Cyril of Jerusalem, John Chrysostom and the Apostolic Constitutions.8 Even when the number of orders had settled down to nine, there was still no fixed arrangement. No hierarchy has exactly the same arrangement as Dionysius. The Apostolic Constitutions, for example, has: ‘the innumerable hosts of angels, archangels, thrones, dominions, principalities, authorities, and powers . . . the cherubim and the seraphim . . . ’;9 ‘And the holy seraphim, together with the six-winged cherubim [sic] . . . and the other multitudes of the orders, angels, archangels, thrones, dominations, principalities, authorities and powers . . . ’.10 This latter passage is based on a Jewish benediction.11 Since the previous example (from the Eucharistic Prayer) has the same arrangement, it is probable that the Jewish hierarchy has been taken into the Syrian liturgy and subsequently reproduced by the compiler of the Apostolic Constitutions. These are the same names as those used by Dionysius, but in a different order. Dionysius obviously felt it necessary, for reasons still known only to himself, to codify the arrangement of angels. It is significant that his arrangement does not correspond exactly to any other previous one. Either he did not want to be seen to depend on an identifiable tradition, or perhaps there is a greater, esoteric, significance to the exact arrangement of angels in the hierarchy than has been previously thought. Clement of Alexandria may have given him the idea of creating a ladder of ‘ranks below ranks’ of angels stretching from God downwards towards us, each rank with a different degree of participation in ‘the eternal and blessed life’.12 Gregory of Nazianzen could not decide whether the angels’ degree of 7 Although, as Golitzin points out, if Seraphim and Cherubim are added, the total is nine. ‘Et Inroibo ad Altare Dei’ (Thessaloniki, 1994) p. 248, n. 79 8 G.W.H. Lampe, A Patristic Greek Lexicon (Oxford, 1961), p. 11; Dictionnaire de Th´eologie Catholique I.1.1206–11 9 The Liturgical Portions of the Apostolic Constitutions, ed. J. Grisbrooke, Alcuin/GROW Liturgical Studies 13–14 (Nottingham, 1990), VIII.12.27, p. 36 10 Apostolic Constitutions VII.35.3, p. 85 11 Apostolic Constitutions, p. 82 12 Clement of Alexandria, Stromateis VII.2.5.9, trans. F.J.A. Hort and J.B. Mayor (London, 1902)

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illumination was a result of their position in the hierarchy, or whether their position was allocated according to their degree of illumination.13 Dionysius chose the latter: angels are ranked as a result of ‘the capacity they have to be raised up directly to him [i.e. God], a capacity which, compared to others, is the mark of their superior power and superior order’.14 This enabled him to use the angelic hierarchy to support his own beliefs about the hierarchy of the Church, as will be seen later. Chrysostom was the first among Patristic writers to give the angels names which indicate their degree of wisdom, insight and purity, and which also express the predominant qualities of each hierarchy.15 This may be why Dionysius is assumed to be the originator of the ninefold hierarchy which he describes, which appears to be later than Chrysostom because it is more elaborate. Taking these Patristic influences into account, we will examine other angelologies, Jewish, pagan and Syrian, to discover to what extent they influenced the development of Dionysius’ angelic hierarchy.

2.2

Jewish Angelology

During the Hellenistic period Judaism entered an era in which, with the increasing emphasis on the transcendence of God, a need was felt for some form of intermediary between God and man.16 This contrasted with the Old Testament, where God spoke directly to the prophets. But with the advent of Hellenistic culture a gulf opened between divine and human, which could only be bridged by a number of angelic beings in some sort of hierarchy. This was mainly to do with types of monarchy in the two cultures. The kingship of Old Testament times was necessarily on a much smaller scale than that of the vast international empire of Alexander. Old Testament kings are portrayed as individuals with likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses. They appear to be personally involved with the implementation of their decisions; they are accessible to their subjects.17 They are human beings who weep, bathe and change their clothes.18 A 13

Oratio 4.5, PG 36.364B–C CH 7.2, 208D 15 De Incomprehensibili Dei Natura III, PG 48.724 16 M. Himmelfarb, Ascent to Heaven in Jewish and Christian Apocalypses (Oxford, 1993), pp. 69–70 17 2 Chronicles 17 is one example of many. 18 2 Sam. 12.15–23 14

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larger territory such as an empire requires a properly organized civil service, which involves a hierarchy of some sort; the larger the territory, the more complex the hierarchy. Jewish writings of the Intertestamental and late antique periods, such as the books of Jubilees and 1 and 2 Enoch, illustrate the development of a hierarchy of servants between the king and his subjects. The greater the distance between them, the more developed the hierarchy of intermediaries must be. This is taken to absurd proportions in some Gnostic writings, in the 365 heavens of Basilides, for example.19 God is a king whose kingdom comprises the totality of heaven and earth. Consequently the hierarchy must be proportionally greater in magnitude and complexity than those of earthly monarchs. The classification of angels into named groups, each with a separate function, has its origins in Judaism, although, as we have seen, the concept of a hierarchy of angels was originally Babylonian. Differentiation of roles can already be seen in the third century BC. In 1 Enoch 20, Uriel is the angel of thunder and earthquakes, while Gabriel is in charge of serpents, the Garden and the Cherubim.20 In the second century BC Book of Jubilees, (which claims to have been revealed by the angels to Moses on Mount Sinai), there are three upper classes: Angels of the Presence, Angels of Sanctification, and Holy Ones,21 below which are a large number of angels whose task it is to preside over natural phenomena, together with 70 angels which act as guardians of nations and individual human beings.22 This work was certainly known by Origen, Didymus the Blind and Severus of Antioch. With the Enoch literature, the angels become more familiar. The Books of Enoch are composite works, parts of 1 Enoch ranging in date between the third century BC and the first century AD, and 2 Enoch being written during the first and second centuries AD. In the earlier period the ‘host of the Lord’ comprises Cherubim, Seraphim and Ophannim, the ‘angels of power’ and ‘angels of the principalities’.23 These latter two groups become the ‘Powers’ and ‘Principalities’ of the Pauline writings. The angels which Paul finds so threatening are not those in the upper group, but those in the lower one. Dionysius deprives them of their power by sandwiching them between the Seraphim and Cherubim above and the archangels and 19

Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses 1.24, ANCL I (Edinburgh, 1868), p. 91 The Apocryphal Old Testament, ed. H.F.D. Sparks (Oxford, 1984). 1 Enoch is translated by M.A. Knibb, 2 Enoch by A. Pennington. 21 The Book of Jubilees XXXI.14, trans. R.H. Charles (London, 1902) 22 The Book of Jubilees, pp. lvi–lviii 23 1 Enoch LXI, pp. 241–2 20

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angels below. In 2 Enoch there is a hierarchy in the making. Chapter 8 has seven identical-looking archangels in the sixth heaven, who sing hymns of praise to God and are in charge of the angels below them who are responsible for the sun, stars, rivers, plants, animals, mankind and so on. This lower group of angels includes ‘seven phoenixes, seven cherubim and seven six-winged angels [seraphim]’. In Chapter 9, the cherubim and seraphim hover near the throne, with archangels, angels and ophannim forming a group in the seventh heaven. Note that there are several groups of three here: phoenixes, cherubim and seraphim in the first group; archangels, angels and ophannim in the second. A third group are the ‘heavenly armies grouped according to their rank’; these are mobile enough to move forward to worship God and return to their places again.24 The J recension in Charlesworth’s translation has eight orders: Archangels, Forces, Dominions, Origins, Authorities, Cherubim, Seraphim and Thrones. The addition of angels then makes a total of nine orders. Several angelologies appear to have been juxtaposed here, which is confusing. However, there are several distinct locations where angels are found: around the throne, in the seventh heaven, and in the sixth heaven. We are getting somewhere near a three level hierarchy with three types of angel on each level. 3 Enoch (mainly fifth to sixth century AD, with some older parts) is also a composite work containing several different angelologies in which the number seven predominates: the seven archangels each rule over one of the seven heavens. In Chapters 19–22 and 25–8, the angels are grouped into classes, which in their turn are ordered into a hierarchy. In ascending order of rank we have: common angels, Galgallim (wheels), Hayyoth, Cherubim, Ophannim, Seraphim and, at the top, two watchers and two holy ones around the throne. Dionysius’ refusal to countenance Galgallim and Hayyoth in his own hierarchy may indicate a disapproval of this work, or at least of its influence. The Sword of Moses, which Gaster dates to somewhere in the first four centuries AD, shows many parallels with the Hekhaloth texts.25 It has a hierarchy of 13 angels on four levels. A chief angel is set over three other chiefs, who in turn rule over five angels who ‘meditate on the mysteries of God in the world’. These in turn rule over four other angels who ‘are appointed to the Law, and they see with penetration the mysteries from above and below’. Each of the three chiefs on the second level and the five 24 25

2 Enoch IX, pp. 336–7 G. Scholem, Major Trends, p. 78

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below them has a large number of chariots under him, the least of which is ‘lord and master over’ all the angels below. As with Dionysius, they have a teaching function: ‘My holy ones will . . . deliver to you my secrets and reveal to you my mysteries, and my words they will teach you, and my wonders they will manifest to you . . . and your eyes will be illuminated.’26 It should now be obvious that the concept of an ordered hierarchy of angels with different functions does not originate with Dionysius. Where he differs from these Jewish hierarchies is in his use of multiples of three rather than multiples of seven.27 What is interesting about the angelologies of the books of Enoch and Jubilees is that they contain the earliest examples we have of the concept of handing down of law and teaching on divine things from God to man via the angels rather than directly. This is exactly what Dionysius is trying to emphasize. God has become so transcendent that it is only through angelic mediation that he can be approached at all. Hence any divine revelation has to come through the angels.28 This includes the Law, the scriptures and their correct interpretation. Philo, writing at about the same time as 2 Enoch, has a more developed angelology than that of Enoch. Philo’s angels differ in constitution; some are more divine than others.29 They differ in rank and are arranged in companies accordingly: But the Creator made two different races on the earth and in the air. In the air, he made the winged animals capable of being perceived by the external senses [i.e. birds] and other powers which can by no means be comprehended in any place by the external senses; and this is the company of incorporeal souls arranged in order, but not in the same classifications. For it is said that some are assigned to mortal bodies . . . Others which have received a more divinely prepared habitation, look down upon the region of the earth, and that in the highest place . . . the purest souls are placed, which those who have studied philosophy among the Greeks call heroes, but which Moses . . . entitles angels; souls which go as ambassadors and messengers of good from the ruler of all things to his subjects, and messengers also to the king respecting those things of 26 M. Gaster, The Sword of Moses, Studies and Texts in Folklore I (London, 1925–8), pp. 312–14 27 CH 6.2, 200D 28 M.J. Davidson, Angels at Qumran (Sheffield, 1992), pp. 312–13 29 H.A. Wolfson, Philo I (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1947), p. 366

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist which his subjects have heard.30

Each company has a particular task.31 As in 2 Enoch, they are free to move around, which they need to do to carry out their tasks of messengers who ‘convey the biddings of the Father to his children and report the children’s need to their father’.32 They are the servants of God33 and act as intermediaries between God and man. Praise does not appear to be one of their special functions. This is a characteristic of the Ascension of Isaiah, where the angels in the five lowest heavens are arranged in a hierarchy such that the glory increases with the ascent from the first heaven to the fifth. In each heaven there is a threefold arrangement: the most glorious angel is seated on a throne, with lesser angels on his right and left. In the sixth heaven the angels are equal. God is seated in the seventh heaven, where there are ‘fiery troops of great Archangels, incorporeal Forces and Dominations, Orders and Governments, Cherubim and Seraphim, Thrones, many-eyed ones . . . ’.34 Unusually, the righteous dead are here also, and may look directly on God.35 I have included the Ascension of Isaiah here, since it is a Jewish Christian work of the early second century.36 In the Testament of Levi, continual praise is offered by the Thrones and Powers in the fourth heaven, but only by these. The sevenfold hierarchies may be related to the cosmology of the period, although it may also be related to the magical importance of the number seven in Sumeria and Babylonia.37 The exact structure of any given angelic hierarchy appears to reflect contemporary royal courts. Hengel suggests that the ‘strictly ordered, pyramid-like hierarchical system probably corresponded to a general religious need of the time’.38 Dionysius admits as much when he quotes from 1 Timothy 6.16. Including the previous verse, we have as his central text: ‘the blessed and only Sovereign, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. It is he alone who has immortality and dwells in unapproachable light, whom no one has ever seen or can see . . . ’. Note also The Celestial Hierarchy 8.1, 240A–B, where 30

De Plantatione 4.14, trans. C.D. Yonge (Peabody, Massachusetts, 1993) H.A. Wolfson, Philo I (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1968), p. 377 32 De Somniis I.22.141 33 De Fuga et Inventione 38.212 34 The Ascension of Isaiah, ed. J.M. Knight (Sheffield, 1995), 8.18, pp. 9, 55 35 M. Himmelfarb, Ascent to Heaven in Jewish and Christian Apocalypses (Oxford, 1993), pp. 55–7 36 J.M. Knight, The Ascension of Isaiah (Sheffield, 1995), pp. 9, 55 37 M. Himmelfarb, Ascent to Heaven in Jewish and Christian Apocalypses, pp. 32–3 38 M. Hengel, Judaism and Hellenism I (London, 1974), pp. 233–4 31

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the Authorities are likened to ‘that authority which is the source of all authority, and creates all authority’. Justinian’s civil service consisted of a hierarchy of three ranks: the highest officers were the Illustris, the middle rank were the Spectabiles, and the lowest were the Clarissimi.39 Dionysius would therefore have been familiar with a government organised as a threefold hierarchy. It is appropriate here to say a little about the attitude to angels in the Essene community at Qumran, as this is an example of an alternative view current at the time of Philo. It is possible that Paul was also familiar with Essene theology; his letters certainly illustrate a number of parallels with Qumran.40 The Qumran angels have basically two different functions: some form a fighting force in preparation for the final war between good and evil,41 while others are priests. The angels in the priest class are further differentiated. Some of them are Angels of the Presence, who maintain purity and also ‘offer propitiatory sacrifices to the Lord on behalf of all the sins of ignorance of the righteous ones’.42 Others are teachers, transmitting God’s commandments and the knowledge of hidden things43 via other angels to the Teacher of Righteousness. Divine truth thus comes to men through the angels, the ‘Hierarch’ and the doctrines of the sect. In this respect they resemble the angels of the Dionysian corpus, but they do not appear to have an organized hierarchy as he does. In any case, the Essenes do seem to have seen a correspondence between the orders of angels and the orders of men:44 The priests shall enter in order foremost, one behind the other, according to their spirits. And the levites shall enter after them. In third place all the people shall enter in order, one after another, in thousands, hundreds, fifties and tens, so that each Israelite may know his standing in God’s Community, in conformity with an eternal plan. And no-one shall move down from his rank, nor move up from the place of his lot.45 39

P.N. Ure, Justinian and His Age (Westport, Connecticut, 1979), p. 105 See 1 Cor. 5.12, 1 Thess. 4.12, 2 Cor. 6.14–7.1. A.F. Segal, Paul the Convert (New Haven, Connecticut, 1990), pp. 167–74; J.A. Fitzmyer, A Feature of Qumran Angelology and the angels of 1 Cor. 11.10, New Testament Studies 4 (1957–8): 57 41 War Scroll, 1QM XII and 4Q 491, The Dead Sea Scrolls in English, trans. G. Vermes (London, 1987), pp. 117, 125 42 Testament of Levi 3.5, quoted in M.J. Davidson, Angels at Qumran, pp. 236–7 43 Davidson, Angels at Qumran, p. 241 44 I.G. Gruenwald, Apocalyptic and Merkavah Mysticism (Leiden, 1980), pp. 156–7 45 F.G. Martinez and E.J.C. Tigchelaar, trans., The Dead Sea Scrolls I (Leiden, 1997), 1QS 19–25, p. 73 40

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Whereas Enochian angels are prayed to in order that they should intercede with God for mankind, there is no suggestion of prayer to the angels in the Qumran literature. Even though God is distant and transcendent, members of the Qumran community still pray to him directly, as in the Old Testament. This suggests a transitional phase between Old Testament Judaism and ‘Dionysian’ Christianity. The description of the angels themselves in Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice is far too vividly pictorial to appeal to Dionysius: There are spirits with many-coloured clothes, like woven material engraved with splendid pictures. In the midst of the glorious appearance of scarlet, the colours of the light of the spirit of the holy of holies remain fixed in their holy position before the king, spirits of pure colours in the midst of the appearance of whiteness. holy ones of the King of holiness . . . .46 The fourth century Sepher Ha-Razim has angels associated with each of the seven heavens, each heaven having its own independent hierarchy. The second heaven, for example, has: innumerable angels constituting armies upon armies and over them are officers and overseers. Within this heaven are twelve steps and on each and every step stand angels in their splendour, and over them is one high official over another. Nevertheless, for human affairs, they are obedient to everyone who approaches them in purity.47 For although they have a wide range of properties and functions, these angels are primarily involved in assisting humans in the practice of magic. This is to be understood in its widest sense, including divination and revelation as well as the traditional concerns of practical magic: healing, love charms, defence against enemies, and so on. To see the sun during the night, one must call upon the angels of the fourth firmament, saying: I adjure you, angels that fly through the air of the firmament, by the One who sees but is not seen, by the King who uncovers all hidden things and sees all secret things, by the God who knows what is in darkness, and who transforms the shadows 46

4Q 405 23ii, F.G. Martinez, The Dead Sea Scrolls Translated (Leiden, 1994), p. 430 Sepher Ha-Razim: The Book of the Mysteries, trans. M.A. Morgan (Chico, California, 1983), p. 43 47

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into morning, and who illumines the night as the day, before whom all secrets are as clear as the sun, for whom there is nothing too difficult. In the name of the Holy King who walks upon the wings of the wind, by the letters of the complete name that was revealed to Adam in the Garden of Eden . . . I adjure you, that you will make known to me this great miracle that I desire, and that I may see the sun in his power in the celestial circle traversed by his chariot, and let no hidden thing be too difficult for me. Let me see him perfectly today, and let me ask him what I wish, and let him speak with me as a man speaks with his friend and tell me the secret of the depths, and make known to me hidden things, and let no evil thing happen to me.48 We can see the gradual development of a hierarchy of angels in Judaism from the third century BC to the fourth century AD. Firstly there is a differentiation of roles. Then, from about the first century AD onwards, particular orders become associated with each of the heavens, resulting in the development of a fixed hierarchy, with a differentiation of status and power between the angels in the various heavens.

2.3

The Chaldaean Oracles and Other Pagan Sources

Ps-Dionysius is often said to have obtained inspiration for his ninefold orders of angels in three groups of three from Proclus, who in turn got it from the Chaldaean Oracles, revered as holy scripture by later Neoplatonists.49 These survive only in quotations or citations in other works, to which one must refer for details of the angelology. There is some inconsistency between the different accounts, partly because of their fragmentary nature, and partly because of the complexity of the Chaldaean system. The universe of the Chaldaean Oracles is ruled by a hierarchical system of powers in which a triadic arrangement predominates. At the summit is the ineffable One, hidden in silence, then the Paternal Monad,50 from which emanate the triads of the intelligible world: the Iynges, Synocheis 48

Sepher Ha-Razim, pp. 70–71 R.J. Comb`es, ‘Proclus et Damascius’, Proclus et son influence, ed. G. Bess and G. Seel (Zurich, 1987), pp. 221–46 50 Fr. 11; E. Des Places, Oracles Chaldaiques (Paris, 1971), p. 69 49

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and Teletarchs. Each of these orders is itself a triad.51 Below this are the gods, angels, daimones, and so on, down to mankind. The universe is divided into three worlds: the intelligible world, the ethereal world (which includes the planets and fixed stars) and the sensible, hylic, or sublunar world.52 Each world has a ruler. Since ‘In each world a triad shines forth, ruled by a monad’ (Fr. 27),53 we have a ninefold order of rule: ‘The number nine is divine, being made up of three triads and constituting the summits of the theology of the Chaldaean philosophy.’54 Iamblichus is the first pagan to describe the Chaldaean angels in any detail. Their place in the hierarchy is reflected in their appearance and brightness, according to the extent of their power and authority: When archangels appear . . . a divided light goes before them in advance, while they themselves, in proportion to the magnitude of their dominion, also display the magnitude of their illumination. Lesser than this is the light shed by angels . . . The images of the archangels are seen as true and perfect, whereas those of angels preserve the same form except that they are somewhat inferior in cognitive perfection.55 The angels have a purificatory power56 which becomes less as one descends the hierarchy; superior beings illuminate those below them.57 In his On the Hieratic Art, Proclus tells us that angels, daimones and men exist in hierarchies.58 According to Porphyry59 there are three levels of angels: archangels (who stand perpetually before God), ministering angels, and thronebearers (which include Cherubim, Seraphim, Thrones and Glories).60 In Psellus’ account of the Chaldaean system61 there are three triads of divine beings below the One, each triad consisting of Father, Power and 51

Des Places, Oracles Chaldaiques, p. 14 Proclus, In Tim. ii.57.9ff in A. Smith, Porphyry’s Place in the Neoplatonic Tradition (The Hague, 1974), p. 63 53 Des Places, Oracles Chaldaiques, p. 73 54 John Lydus, De Mensibus IV.122, quoting Porphyry, in P. Hadot, Porphyre et Victorinus I ( Paris, 1968): 262 55 Iamblichus, On the Mysteries II.3,4, trans E.C. Clarke, J.M. Dillon and J.P. Hershbell (Atlanta, Georgia, 2003), pp. 86–95 56 F.W. Cremer, ‘Die Chald¨aischen Orakel und Jamblich De Mysteriis’, Beitr¨age zur Klassischen Philologie 26 (1969), p. 67 57 Iamblichus, On the Mysteries V.23, pp. 274–7 58 Catalogue des Manuscrits Alchimiques Grecs VI (Brussels, 1928), pp. 144–5 59 H. Lewy, Chaldaean Oracles and Theurgy (Paris, 1978), pp. 9–16 60 P. Hadot, Porphyre et Victorinus, p. 392 61 PG 122.1149C–1153B, with an English translation by Thomas Taylor (Oracles & 52

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Intellect. These are not ranked one above the other, but are all on the same level. Below these triads are further triads: the Iynges, the Synocheis and the Teletarchs. On a lower level are the various angels and daimones.62 There does not appear to be any connection between the various levels, nor is there is a coherent overall structure as with Dionysius. All these divine beings seem to have distinct functions. The Iynges correspond to the ministering angels: they are messengers and mediators between the divine and human worlds.63 The Synocheis are unifiers who maintain the parts of the universe together in harmony; they also seem to have some kind of role in the theurgical elevation of the soul, or anagoge. The Teletarchs are involved in initiation, oversee religious ritual and have a purificatory role. The angels also assist the soul in the anagoge.64 Proclus explains that the soul is led upwards by the host of angels shining all around it and filling it with a pure fire, the soul being progressively purified during the ascent.65 The Chaldaean system preserved by Proclus and Damascius66 has a Father with his three faculties Intellect, Will and Power as intermediaries between himself and the world. There are, in addition, a number of astral and planetary gods (or angels) which emanate from the paternal Intellect and sing hymns to the Ineffable Father. Another of their functions is to act as the Father’s ears so that he can hear what is going on on earth. They are reminiscent of Philo’s angels in this respect. Their hymn singing also suggests Judaeo-Christian influence. In contrast to this, Dionysius does not have any ministering angels. One might expect to find them in the third and lowest hierarchy of Principalities, archangels and angels. But the function of the Principalities is ‘to lead others to him [God] like a prince’ and to exercise their princely powers.67 The archangels are rulers of nations, guardian angels only in an authoritarian sense.68 As they are the closest to humanity, the angels in Mysteries, pp. 3–5) and a French translation by A.E. Chaignet, Damascius le Diadoque (Paris, 1898), vol. III, pp. 229–33 62 J. Duffy, ‘Reactions of two Byzantine intellectuals to the theory and practice of magic: Michael Psellos and Michael Italikos’, Byzantine Magic, ed. H. Maguire (Washington, DC, 1995), p. 84 63 Fr. 78, Des Places, Oracles Chaldaiques, p. 86 64 H. Lewy, Chaldean Oracles and Theurgy, p. 161 65 Proclus, On the Chaldaean Philosophy, in F.W. Cremer, ‘Die Chald¨aischen Orakel und Jamblich De Mysteriis’, p. 65 66 Damascius’ angels are Principalities, Archangels, Zones and Azones. See volume III of J. Comb`es’ edition of Damascius, On First Principles (Paris, 1986), pp. 37–8, 144–66. 67 CH 9.1, 257B 68 CH 9.2, 260B. Dionysius seems to think that Michael is an angel rather than an

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the lowest rank might be expected to have a function in relating directly to individual human beings. But Dionysius only mentions their concern with revelation.69 There is no hint of caring, such as is found in Jewish and Roman Catholic bedtime prayers for children such as: In the name of the Lord God of Israel, may Michael, the protection of God, be at my right hand; and Gabriel, the power of God, at my left; before me Uriel, the light of God; behind me Raphael, the healing of God; and above my head Shechinat El, the presence of God.70 Angels can also be found in a hierarchy in the Greek Magical Papyri, where they act mainly as agents of revelation: I call upon you, holy angel Zizaubio, from the company of the Pleiades to whom you are subordinate and serve for all things . . . You also [do I call upon], as many of you angels who are placed under his [Zizaubio’s] power. Hence I call upon you all that you may come quickly in this night, and reveal to me clearly and firmly, concerning those matters that I desire.71 I request immortality . . . which the great god Helios Mithras ordered to be revealed to me by his archangel, so that I alone may ascend into heaven as an inquirer and behold the universe.72 or deliverance from demonic attack: Hear me, holy god who rests among the holy ones, at whose side the Glorious Ones stand continually. I call upon you . . . who possess the powerful name which has been consecrated by all angels. Hear me, you who have established the mighty Decans and archangels, and beside whom stand untold myriads of angels.73 archangel. Perhaps this is because it only suits his theory for the lowest rank of the celestial hierarchy to converse with human beings. Isaiah 6.6 is a stumbling block for him, because in his system, a human being cannot be visited by a seraph. He takes the whole of Chapter 13 to explain it away! 69 CH 9.2, 260A 70 Forms of Prayer for Jewish Worship I: Daily, Sabbath and Occasional Prayers (The Reform Synagogues of Great Britain, London, 1977), p. 341 71 H.D. Betz, The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation (Chicago, Illinois, 1986), p. 140. This spell is VII.795–845 in Preisendanz, Papyri Graecae Magicae (PGM) 72 PGM IV.475–829 in H.D. Betz, The Greek Magical Papyri, p. 48 73 PGM I.195–222 in Betz, p. 8

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In the first of these quotations there is a hierarchy consisting of three levels; Zizaubio is in the middle level. Closely related to the Magical Papyri are the alchemical writings and the Hermetic literature. In both cases there is a claim that knowledge of the art is passed down to man by the angels.74 A certain fascination with the relationship between Moses and the angels is suggested by a book with the intriguing title The Hymn of the Archangels given to Moses on Mount Sinai, mentioned in On the Origin of the World.75 This ‘angelic hymn’ is a disappointingly banal Jewish magical work showing pronounced Gnostic influence, and consisting of little more than a string of incantations interspersed with many names of angels and of God, often garbled.76 This type of work illustrates the practice, found also among Jewish mystics, of aiding the mystical ascent by singing of hymns, together with invocation of the archangels by chanting their names and/or the divine names (of which Gnostics had many). It was important to know the names of the angels, because they were only friendly if addressed by name; otherwise they were hostile.77 These Gnostic and semi-Gnostic angels are much less structured in arrangement than the angels in the Enoch literature, and the relationship between worshipper and angel is frankly manipulative. Interesting as it is, this area does not seem a likely source for Dionysius. There is a parallel to Dionysius’ angelic hierarchy in the Tripartite Tractate, which has a threefold division with ‘the strong powers which the spiritual Logos brought forth from fantasy and arrogance’ in the upper rank. In turn come ‘powers which these produced by their lust for power . . . in the middle area, so that they might exercise dominion and give commands with compulsion and force to the establishment which is beneath them. Those which come into being through envy and jealousy . . . he set in a servile order’.78 The parallel is only a structural one, however; there is no functional similarity between the two systems.

74 M. Berthelot, Les Origines de l’Alchimie (Paris, 1885), pp. 9–13, 71–2; B. Copenhaver, trans., Hermetica (Cambridge, 1992), p. xxxiv 75 NHL II.5, p. 164 76 R. Reitzenstein, Poimandres, pp. 292–9 77 R. Morton Smith, ‘Ascent to the Heavens and the Beginning of Christianity’, Eranos-Jahrbuch 50 (1981): 412 78 Nag Hammadi Library I.5, pp. 81–2

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2.4

Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist

Syrian Angelologies

Since Dionysius’ background can be located in the Syrian liturgical tradition, it will be useful to examine possible Syrian sources for his angelology, this not having been given detailed attention previously. As mentioned earlier, the Apostolic Constitutions has a similar list of angels (Seraphim, Cherubim, Powers, Authorities, Principalities, Dominions, Thrones, Archangels, Angels) to the Dionysian one. But it also has another list: Cherubim, Seraphim, Aeons, Hosts, Powers, Authorities, Principalities, Thrones, Archangels, Angels. In neither case is there a specific hierarchy.79 What the compiler of the work may be trying to stress is the vast magnitude of the different kinds of heavenly beings, rather than their relationship with each other. The Testamentum Domini has: Dominions, Praises, Thrones, Raiments, Lights, Joys, Delights;80 Angels, Archangels, Glories, Dominions, Princes.81 Again, no rigid hierarchy is implied. The Book of the Cave of Treasures, written in Syriac some time before the fourth century, has a similar list to one of those in the Apostolic Constitutions: God created the heavens, and the earth, and the waters, and the air, and the fire, and the hosts which are invisible (that is to say, the Angels, Archangels, Thrones, Lords, Principalities, Powers, Cherubim and Seraphim) and all the companies and ranks of spiritual beings . . . All these were created on the first day.82 Although there is no explicit hierarchy here, the order of the names, beginning with angels and archangels and ending with cherubim and seraphim, does imply an increasing status or nearness to God. The middle rank, Thrones to Powers, are not in the same order as in Dionysius and Authorities are omitted, giving a total of eight orders. The Syriac Transitus Mariae, dating from the late fifth or early sixth century, has: Our Lord Jesus Christ came with a band of the seraphim before Him holding trumpets and singing, and a row of angels bearing horns and blowing, and choirs of cherubs came 79

VIII.12.8, p. 32 I.23, p. 16 81 II.7, p. 25; The Testamentum Domini, ed. G. Sperry-White (Nottingham, 1991), p. 16 82 The Book of the Cave of Treasures, trans. E.A.W. Budge (London, 1927), pp. 43–4 80

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holding lamps of glory, and crowds of guardian angels came . . . .83 An independent Syriac work, The Testament of Adam,84 does have a specific hierarchy ‘from the bottom until we reach those who carry our Lord Jesus the Messiah and bear him up’,85 consisting of Angels, Archangels, Archons, Authorities, Powers, Dominions, Thrones, Seraphim and Cherubim. Allowing for the reversal of cherubim and seraphim, this is essentially the same as that in the Dionysian corpus. The Testament of Adam is the only complete ninefold angelic hierarchy in existence before Dionysius. The dating, admittedly, is in some doubt, but the use of ‘Archons’ and ‘Our Lord Jesus the Messiah’ suggest an early date. Since the only Christian elements are the titles ‘Our Lord Jesus the Messiah‘ and ‘Our Lord’, in 4.1 and 4.8 respectively, Robinson thinks that it may be another example of a Jewish angelology from the late intertestamental period, with later Christian interpolations.86 In any case he gives it a pre-fifth century dating.87 It is important to stress that it is only Jewish angelologies and the Testament of Adam that have the angels specifically ranked one above the other, as Dionysius has them. Dionysius has made two modifications. Firstly he has replaced Archons by Principalities. This may be partly to conform with the Biblical name (Romans 8.38), but also to avoid the Gnostic connotations of ‘Archon’. Apart from CH 9, 260B he only uses the word to indicate an earthly ruler. The other modification is his reversal of cherubim and seraphim, so that seraphim are on top. It is not easy to see why he has done this, particularly as his cherubim have the power to know and to see God,88 which one would expect to be a quality of the uppermost rank rather than the second one down. In the Testament of Adam the cherubim bear the throne of the Messiah, so they have to be the uppermost rank. But Dionysius has excluded any references (e.g. Ps. 80.1, 99.1) to ‘He who sits upon the cherubim’. Stephen Bar Sudhaili is often accused of copying Ps-Dionysius’ angelic hierarchy, on the grounds that there appear to be references to the Dionysian corpus in The Book of the Holy Hierotheus, which is attributed to 83 A.S. Lewis, Apocrypha Syriaca: The Protevangelium Jacobi and Transitus Mariae, Studia Sinaitica XI (London, 1902), p. 14 84 S.E. Robinson, The Testament of Adam, Society of Biblical Literature, Dissertation Series 52 (Chico, California, 1982), pp. 76–85 85 Testament of Adam 4.1 86 Testament of Adam, pp. 152–3 87 Testament of Adam, p. 159 88 CH 7.1, 205C

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him. However, it can be demonstrated that the attribution to ‘Hierotheus’ is a later addition by an editor, as are the Preface, the ending, and a number of passages which between them account for the apparent allusions to Dionysius’ work.89 Bar Sudhaili has two angelic hierarchies, both different from that of Dionysius. In discourse I.1090 he has a sevenfold hierarchy of Angels, Archangels, Powers, Authorities, Thrones, Lordships and Essences-without-name. This is very interesting, because in Jewish Kabbalistic teaching91 each system of Mansions has seven stages: the first six, which correspond to the first six days of the week, are accessible to human understanding, but the seventh, corresponding to the Sabbath, is ineffable: without form, description or name. Bar Sudhaili similarly has six named orders of angels, followed by a seventh that cannot be named; the pattern is consistent with his preoccupation with the seven days of the week: six days followed by the Sabbath.92 Two chapters later there is a ninefold hierarchy containg Cherubim and Seraphim. Each of these nine ‘Essences’ is subdivided into three, giving 27 ranks, each of which is, in turn, divided into nine, to give a total of 243 orders of angelic beings. Nowhere in the Book of the Holy Hierotheos is it stated that these nine Essences are themselves grouped together in threes, as Dionysius has them. Bar Sudhaili’s slightly laboured explanation of the archangels’ superiority to angels, on account of their greater knowledge, may imply that his readers were not familiar with the idea. Dionysius, on the other hand, writes smoothly and confidently, as though dealing with a familiar concept: ‘Now in every sacred rank the higher orders have all the illuminations and powers of those below them and the subordinate have none of those possessed by their superiors.’93 But then he has much more to say about the angels altogether. Bar Sudhaili’s account of his angels is confined to three chapters (137 lines of text, about eight pages in the English edition). As we know, Dionysius went to considerably greater length (15 chapters and 55 pages in Lubheid’s edition) to expound the details of the working of the hierarchy. Bar Sudhaili does not even have a name for one of his ranks of angels, the Essences-without-name. The functions of the different orders are different too. They have different tasks: either they stand around the throne of God, ‘overshadowing and 89

R.A. Arthur, ‘A Sixth-century Origenist’, Studia Patristica 35 (2001): 369–73 The Book of the Holy Hierotheos, ed. F.S. Marsh (London, 1927), p. 18 91 A.E. Waite, The Holy Kabbalah (London, 1929), pp. 247–9 92 ‘Letter of Mar Xenaias of Mabug to Abraham and Orestes’ in A.L. Frothingham, Stephen Bar Sudhaili, the Syrian Mystic, and the Book of Hierotheos (Leyden, 1886), pp. 32–7 93 CH 5, 196B–C 90

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sanctifying the Divine’, or they work as helpers (in what respect he is not specific), or they act as guides for the ascending mind in its progress up through the heavenly mansions.94 But he is unclear as to which ranks have which functions. Dionysius, of course, specifies the functions of all his angels; it is the upper group (Seraphim, Cherubim and Thrones) only who stand in the presence of God. The functions of the other angels are altogether different from those of the Syrian mystic. For Bar Sudhaili, the postition of an angel in the hierarchy depends upon the measure of its descent from the Good,95 and it may ascend or descend to a different rank.96 This is in sharp contrast to Dionysius’ fixed hierarchy of angels, who are not permitted to move from their pre-ordained places.97 Morover, each one of Bar Sudhaili’s angels is able both to receive and to transmit purification,98 while Dionysius divides his angels into those who purify and those who receive purification.99 As for the etymology of the upper group of angels, Bar Sudhaili can only tell us about the Seraphim. Dionysius goes further than this, giving us the meaning of the names Seraphim, Cherubim and Thrones.100 Another point is that Bar Sudhaili includes Living Creatures and Shining Ones among his ranks of angels. Now Dionysius is adamant that we do not know anything about the appearance of the angels (so how can we know whether they are shining or not?). As I pointed out at the beginning of this chapter, he is very emphatic that there are no ‘Living Creatures’ among the heavenly hosts. Bar Sudhaili is not emphatic about any of these descriptions. For he is not trying to prove a point or to defend his own position. He is simply giving an account of something which he has seen, which he believes to be true. I therefore believe that Bar Sudhaili wrote about the celestial hierarchy, and that Dionysius wrote carefully and at greater length to refute him. Stephen was a man of undoubted creativity and heterodox opinions; what we experience is more important than what we are taught. It has been remarked101 that Dionysius is out of line with the other Fathers in having the top group of angels occupied exclusively around the throne (CH 7.1, 205D). He may have taken this from St Ephrem, although 94

Book of the Holy Hierotheos 1.12, pp. 19–20 Book of the Holy Hierotheos I.5, p. 11 96 Book of the Holy Hierotheos I.12, pp. 23–5 97 CH 3.1–2, 164D–165C; EH 2.III.3, 400A; EH 4.III.8, 481B; Ep. 8.1, 1088C–1092A. 98 Book of the Holy Hierotheos I.12, p. 21; I.17, p. 39. 99 CH 3.2, 165B–C 100 CH 7.1, 205B–D 101 A Catholic Dictionary of Theology (London, 1962), vol. I, p. 85 95

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it is also true of the top group in the Testament of Adam. This may therefore be a Syrian trait. The fourth century John of Apamea (John the Solitary) also ranked the angels in order of their degree of knowledge: When St Paul speaks of Principalities and Powers, he teaches that some are higher orders than others. It is true that among the powers on high there is a hierarchy: some of these orders penetrate further into the mysteries of the divine essence. The highest are the Cherubim.102 This was not confined to Syria, for the Lausiac History has: ‘The first orders [of angels] have the Supreme Trinity as teacher, the second learn from the first, the third from the second, and so successively in order until the last. For those who are superior in judgement and virtue teach those who are inferior in knowledge.’103 Severus of Antioch, in his Cathedral Homily LXXII, which has been dated to 515AD,104 has an Origenist hierarchy which is somewhat reminiscent of that of Stephen bar Sudhaili: angels and archangels, virtues and powers, thrones and dominations, and other titles of the intelligible orders which are not given names by us now, but in the world to come are also destined perhaps to be named and known – according to the state of readiness and purity which each person possesses. This implies that Dionysius had not yet formulated his own celestial hierarchy by 515AD. Another contemporary of Dionysius was Philoxenos of Mabbugh. His Homily 7 reveals some Evagrian/Origenist influence in the account of Jacob’s ladder, on which intermingled angels and men sing the Trisagion together. The ladder indicates a continuum between heaven and earth, with constant movement up and down by both men and angels. By placing their feet on the lower rungs of the ladder, men can enrol in the heavenly army and become angels themselves.105 Elsewhere Philoxenos tells us that, because angels do not eat, we can become like them by fasting.106 That holy people may become angels is an idea which is also found in Nilus of Ancyra (often confused with Evagrius).107 The influence 102

Dialogue 3, SC 311, p. 69 The Lausiac History of Palladius, trans. W.K. Lowther (London, 1918), p. 38 104 P. Allen and C.T.R. Hayward, eds, Severus of Antioch (London, 2004), p. 127 105 Sources Chr´etiennes 44 (Paris, 1956), p. 190 106 Homily XI.424–5 107 Commentaire sur le Cantique des Cantiques, Chapter 71, SC 403 (Paris, 1994) 103

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of Evagrius was stronger in Syria than in Asia Minor, which may be one reason why Dionysius does not seem to have wanted to identify himself too explicitly with Syrian theology. As mentioned earlier, another characteristic of Syrian angelology which Dionysius takes pains to distance himself from is their habit (adopted from the Jewish mystical tradition) of including wheels, eyes and animals among the angelic ranks. This may be a reaction against angels and other cosmic powers in the form of animals, so beloved by Gnostics,108 although it is more likely to reflect disapproval of pictorialism. Philoxenus also comments that Ezekiel’s description of the appearance of angels is not to be taken literally. They do not have separate parts of the body as we do, although they possess the appropriate functions which are associated with them.109 In any case, as Robinson and others have already suggested,110 Dionysius is to be firmly located in the Syrian tradition. He has, however, chosen to use neither the angelic hierarchy of the Cave of Treasures as it stands nor that of the Apostolic Constitutions, whereas the Testament of Adam needed only slight modification to be suitable for his purpose.

2.5

The Purpose of the Dionysian Hierarchy

One might ask why it is necessary to have an ordered hierarchy of angels at all in the Christian tradition, considering that the Bible has no concept of a celestial hierarchy. For if Christ is at the right hand of God to receive the prayers of the faithful and to intercede for those who believe in him (Romans 8.34), there seems to be no reason to invent such an elaborate structure as that developed here. The Christian needs no other intermediary than Christ. John of Apamea, writing in the mid-fifth century, speaks for all believers: I simply believe and cling to Christ . . . in firm hope of the revelation of his mystery, not in this world, but in the world to come.111 Christ is the place of repose for all existence. Without him there 108

Marsanes, Nag Hammadi Library X.1, p. 421 and On the Origin of the World, II.5, p.

166 109

Homily II.33–4, pp. 56–8 S.E. Robinson, Testament of Adam, pp. 143–4; J. Parisot, ‘Angelologie chez les Syriens’, Dictionnaire de Th´eologie Catholique I.1, 1257 111 John of Apamea, Letter to Thomasios, SC 311, p. 120 110

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That it was found necessary to develop a system of this nature after almost 500 years is tantamount to denying the efficacy of Christ as a mediator altogether. Although the followers of Origen condemned prayer to the Son, they still believed in the Incarnation and Atonement, but prayed to the Father through the Son. The necessity for the Dionysian angelic hierarchy may suggest a dimension to salvation other than by faith and works alone. Dionysius, expecting to be questioned on this matter, explains that the purpose of the hierarchy is ‘to enable beings to be as like as possible to God and to be at one with him . . . Hierarchy causes its members to be images of God in all respects . . . they can then pass on this light generously and in accordance with God’s will to beings further down the scale’.113 With the aim of imitating God, members receive purification, light and understanding from those above them in the hierarchy, who have a greater endowment of these, and then pass it on to those below them.114 The only other explanation of the purpose of a hierarchy in Syrian literature of this period can be found in Stephen Bar Sudhaili’s Book of the Holy Hierotheos. It is very similar to that expressed by Dionysius, but very much simpler: ‘The work of hierarchy is the advancement of those who are brought near, and the purification of those that are purified.’115 That is, to enable us to draw near to God. The influence of Hekhaloth mysticism can be seen in Bar Sudhaili’s description of the glory of the mansions above, each more radiant than the one below it, arousing a yearning in the soul to ‘labour mightily and with great eagerness to stretch out to it and to be one with it’.116 The Mind is conducted from one mansion to the next by the angels and ‘after it is purified and ascends, acquires also the power to receive and to purify’.117 In Dionysius’ system the soul is much more passive than this. It receives light from above, but does not move from its pre-ordained place in the hierarchy to mingle with the angels, as it does with Bar Sudhaili and Philoxenus of Mabbugh, for example. There is a fixed distance between 112 From a lost hymn of John of Apamea, quoted in Letter from Thomasios to John, SC 311, p. 127 113 CH 3.2, 165A 114 CH 7.3, 208A 115 HH II.18, p. 40 116 HH II.18, p. 42 117 HH II.18, p. 41

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man and the angels in their various ranks, and because the hierarchy of the Church is a reflection of the hierarchy of heaven, there is also a fixed distance between the various ranks in the Church as well. There is no way for the individual to ‘take heaven by storm’, with the two great hierarchies standing between him and God. In keeping with his view of the essential goodness of creation, Dionysius’ angels are entirely benevolent, reflecting an almost complete lack of interest on his part in hell or judgement. This is in marked contrast to the contemporary Syrian attitude, where evil, demons and hell loom large. He does not believe in coercion, but in teaching by means of example: a somewhat unusual attitude for his time, perhaps? Whereas monks like Philoxenos regarded asceticism as an essential means of salvation, enabling the monk to become as an angel, Dionysius did not. He shows little, if any, interest in encouraging the ascetic lifestyle. This is suggestive of an Origenist bias; Origenist monks were criticized for rejecting the need for physical asceticism.118 For them the angelic hierarchy could therefore provide an alternative means of salvation, provided that one keeps its rules. He explains what these are during the course of the work.

2.6

The Functions of Dionysius’ Angels

As with Philo, the angels of Clement of Alexandria do not all have the same nature; his three groups, protoktistoi, archangels and angels have different names and functions because they have different natures.119 The angels of Origen, on the other hand, were all of the same nature, the difference between them being that, due to their use of free will, some fell further away from God than others. His follower Didymus the Blind further differentiated between the various types of angels by shape, which enables them to be grouped into choirs.120 Dionysius is never specific about the nature of the angels, this being a mystery known to God alone.121 He is more interested in the practical implications of the working of the hierarchy. I suspect that his real motive for evading this question of the angelic nature may have been to avoid being classed as an Origenist, were he to admit that the angels were all of the same nature. He also needed to have an excuse for fixing the 118

C. Stallman-Pacitti, Cyril of Scythopolis (Brookline, Massachusetts, 1991), p. 98 Stromateis VII.2 120 G. Bardy, Didyme l’Aveugle (Paris, 1910), p. 170 121 CH 6.1, 200C 119

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position and function of the nine orders without prejudicing his theory of the hierarchy as a means of transmitting purification, illumination and perfection. On the one hand, the different grades must have sufficient in common for such transmission; on the other, it must not be possible to move from one grade to another by the exercise of one’s own willpower. Silence must have seemed the most prudent course. The upper group, Seraphim, Cherubim and Thrones, are of equal status; they are all in the presence of God, ‘permanently united with him ahead of any of the others and with no intermediary’ (CH 6.2, 200D). They are the first of the angelic beings to receive from God and to pass on what they have received to the ranks below. To explain the functions of the Seraphim and Cherubim he appeals to Hebrew etymology as a starting point. The Hebrew root SRP means ‘to burn’. There is a wonderful description of the seraphim in 3 Enoch 26, which is perhaps a forerunner of the dazzling darkness: Every one of them radiates light like the splendour of the throne of glory, so that even the holy creatures, the majestic ophannim and the glorious cherubim cannot look on that light, for the eyes of anyone who looks on it grow dim from its great brilliance. Why is their name called seraphim? Because they burn the tablets of Satan. This is toned down considerably by Dionysius. His seraphim have the qualities of fire, and so they have the ability to warm, illuminate and purify. But they are also ‘carriers of warmth’. They are not static. Dionysius’ description of them is full of vitality: For the designation seraphim really teaches this – a perennial circling around the divine things, penetrating warmth, the overflowing heat of a movement which never falters and never fails, a capacity to stamp their own image on subordinates by arousing and uplifting in them too a like flame, the same warmth. It means also the power to purify by means of the lightning flash and the flame. It means the ability to hold unveiled and undiminished both the light they have and the illumination they give out. It means the capacity to push aside and to do away with every obscuring shadow.122 122

CH 7.1, 205B–C

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He is on somewhat shaky ground with the cherubim, for he ignores both the biblical imagery of cherubim as throne-bearers, found also in the Testament of Adam, and the conception of cherub as limit: Then, after Adam was cast out from Paradise [Moses] wrote, ‘[God] set in the east of the paradise of Eden a cherub and a sharp sword to go about in every direction and to guard the way to the tree of life.’ That fence was a living being who itself marched around to guard the way to the tree of life . . . .123 Only the uncertain derivation of the word ‘cherub’ allows him to get away with this. The function of the Dionysian cherubim is limited to receiving and passing on wisdom. The lowest two ranks, angels and archangels, are also found in the Bible and Jewish apocryphal writings, and the functions which Dionysius assigns to them does not differ materially from those which are found there. There is no obvious source for most of the functions and characteristics of the angels between Thrones and Principalities. Starting from the bottom: the purpose of the Principalities is to ‘lead others to (that principle which is above all principles) like a prince’ and to ‘make manifest this transcendent principle of all order’.124 Above them, the Authorities ‘receive God in a harmonious and unconfused way’. They are ‘harmoniously and unfailingly lifted up toward the things of God’, taking the inferior ranks with them. He likens them to ‘that authority which is the source of all authority’, and they make this authority evident to others. Similarly, the Powers are the image of that power which is the source of all power. They exhibit courage and are free of any ‘laziness or softness’; is he getting at someone here? The Dominions are free of the tendency to oppression which characterizes earthly domination; their aim is to become more like the ‘divine source of all dominion’. Thrones are ‘free of all passion and material concern’ and, like the other two members of the top group in St Ephrem and the Testament of Adam, are ‘forever separated from what is inferior’; their aim is to be always in the presence of God. Is Dionysius using a word play on ‘Throne’ to refer to bishops? In Epistle 10 he speaks of: some already united here and now with God, for they are the lovers of truth and have abandoned the passion for material goods. They are completely free from all evils and are stirred 123 Ephrem, Commentary on Genesis 36, in E.G. Mathews and J.P. Amar, trans., St Ephrem the Syrian (Washington, DC, 1994), p. 123 124 CH 9.1, 257B

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist by a divine longing for all good things. In this life they look forward to the coming life. Free of all passion they live like angels among men.125

This last letter could be a hidden reference to the sufferings of the Monophysite bishops evicted from their sees from 521AD onwards, driven out of the cities by unjust men: As for those who deal unjustly with you and who wrongly imagine that they have banished the sun of the gospel, I have good reason to criticise them but, above all, I pray for them in the hope that they will abandon the evil which they are inflicting . . . .126 The bishop does indeed ‘bear God’ in the celebration of the Eucharist and, like his heavenly counterpart, he is the first member of the church hierarchy to receive from God and to pass what he has received to the ranks below. Dionysius’ matching of angelic ranks with their functions is strained and artificial. The five middle ranks of angels which he describes are insubstantial and apparently pointless. The descriptions of the Powers, Dominions and Thrones may have been intended either as inspiration for the middle ranks of the church hierarchy or as polemic, depending on the reader. But Dionysius’ descriptions of the Principalities and Authorities tell us nothing. They seem to be there simply to fill up a gap, as if he does not want to admit that he has nothing to say about them. What these different functions and qualities may reveal are attributes of God. This is reminiscent of Philo’s doctrine that the names of God are not names in the sense that a magician or a Gnostic would understand it (that is, a means of invoking divine power for one’s own purposes), but are powers of God. Philo has borrowed this from the Stoics, the names of whose God correspond to his various powers.127 Similarly, Dionysius’ angels are not individuals with names, as they are in the Enoch literature, but represent powers of God.128 Angels were important to Philo because he believed, as did Dionysius after him, that the divine light was so blindingly intense that the only way one could perceive God was via the powers.129 125

Ep. 10, 1117B Ep. 10, 1117C 127 H.A. Wolfson, Philo II, p. 135 128 E.R. Goodenough, By Light, Light, pp. 79–80 129 By Light, Light, p. 213 126

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Conclusion

The angelology which is closest to that of Ps-Dionysius is that found in the Testament of Adam. This is not the same as the one in the Cave of Treasures or the Apostolic Constitutions, but all three were derived from Jewish angelologies of the late intertestamental period. Nor is it that of his Syrian contemporary Stephen Bar Sudhaili, who was influenced by both Egyptian Gnosticism and Hekhaloth mysticism. Consequently Dionysius can be said to have adopted a basically Jewish angelology, albeit transmitted via Syrian Christianity. His angels are not those of the Chaldaean Oracles or of any other pagan group. In other respects Dionysius has little in common with Syrian Christianity. He is, if anything, closer to Philo than to any Christian writer in his teaching on angels as powers of God and sole intermediaries between God and man. He may have fostered an apparent similarity with Philo, and with the Chaldaean Oracles, in order to disguise an allegiance with the Origenists, although his theory of hierarchy would seem to mark him out as an opponent of theirs, in this sense at least. Christians, from St Paul to evangelicals of modern times, have tended to warn against giving angels too high a place in the economy of salvation, lest they should displace the crucified Christ from his central position as saviour. Yet Dionysius has returned to the very situation that Paul worked so hard to change. This seems incredible for someone who claimed to be a disciple of Paul. So the question must be asked again: how orthodox is Dionysius really? To the solution of this, his angelology is a vital clue. A discussion of this will follow in Chapter 3.

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Chapter 3 The Unknowability of God 3.1

Introduction

The Old Testament conception of God was of a single male deity who, unlike other gods at the time, was unknown insofar as he chose to reveal neither his name nor his appearance.1 However, a definite personality emerged in due course. In the meantime, all his worshippers needed to know was that he was their lord and king, and that he had given them a code of laws by which to live, the keeping of which would ensure their survival as a people. The withholding of his name was for his own protection; that of his appearance was for ours. Perhaps these amount to the same thing. Knowledge of a god’s name was believed to give one the power to invoke his presence (usually for the purpose of using the divine power for one’s own ends), even to see him as an objective physical entity. The God of Israel was so powerful, however, that this would be fatal for a mere mortal, hence the warnings in Exodus 33 and elsewhere. It is true that late Neoplatonists such as Proclus, and other followers of the theurgical movement stemming from the Chaldaean Oracles, claimed to be able to produce manifestations of their gods more or less at will. The preparation was arduous, involving fasting, long periods of silence and techniques involving the use of incense, herbs and stones and certain magical tools.2 The resultant trance might hopefully lead to a vision of the deity, knowledge of his/her nature and even mystical union. The visions were variable. Manifestations of Hecate, for example, might be: a fire which . . . leaps in the direction of the flow of the air, or a 1

Ex. 3.13–15, 33.18–23 G. Luck, ‘Theurgy and forms of worship in Neoplatonism’, in Religion, Science and Magic, ed. J. Neusner, E.S. Frerichs and P.V.M. Flesher (Oxford, 1989), pp. 192–3 2

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist shapeless fire from which a voice rushes forth, or an abundant light which encircles, as it whirrs, the earth, or a horse which flashes more brightly than light, or a child riding on the swift back of the horse, on fire, or covered with gold, or else naked, or holding a bow and standing on the horse’s back.3

But these were not the gods as they really were, merely phantoms elicited to demonstrate the presence of the god in a form which human eyes and mind could accept. In Handel’s opera Semele, the young heroine, desiring immortality, begs her divine lover Jove to ‘cast off this human shape which you wear, and, Jove since you are, like Jove too appear’. Forced by his oath to grant her request, the thunderbolt which was the ‘real’ Jove destroys her.4 This urge to force the Supreme God to reveal his true nature by casting off the mask which he wears is an indication of the influence of the Greek theatre. This same influence can be seen in John’s Gospel: Philip said to him ‘Lord, show us the Father, and we shall be satisfied.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Have I been with you so long, and yet you do not know me, Philip? He who has seen me has seen the Father; how can you say, “Show us the Father”? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?’5 For John, to look on the human Jesus is to look on God; the two cannot be separated: And the Word was God . . . and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us full of grace and truth; we have beheld his glory . . . . 6 3

G. Luck, Theurgy and forms of worship in Neoplatonism, p. 196 Libretto by William Congreve, based on Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Juno advises Semele that, if she wants to become immortal, she should: 4

Conjure him by his oath Not to approach your bed In likeness of a mortal, But like himself, the mighty thunderer, In pomp of majesty And heav’nly attire . . . You shall partake then of immortality, And thenceforth leave this mortal state, To reign above. 5 6

Jn 14.8–10a Jn 1.1,14

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Note that there is no Transfiguration scene in John’s Gospel; it is not necessary, since the humanity of Jesus is not a veil hiding his divinity. The Word became flesh; he did not put it on like a garment.7 This is a typically Monophysite conception of Christ. Various religious traditions express the unknowability of God by means of the images of the Cloud of Unknowing and the Dazzling Darkness. This chapter will examine first the development of these two themes, then knowledge of God via mediators.

3.2

The Cloud of Unknowing and the Dazzling Darkness

Christian mystics have always longed to see God and to be united with him, in this life as well as in the life to come. The inseparable themes of the Cloud and the Dazzling Darkness are attempts to explain why we cannot hope to reach a perfect knowledge of God. In the Book of Exodus both cloud and darkness are at the same time the result of the divine glory and a protective device.8 The glory of God is like fire,9 which burns those who get too close. Fire produces smoke, and the smoke effectively protects one from the fire by hurting the eyes before one can get close enough to be burned. In the account of Moses’ ascent of Mount Sinai, the cloud is not a low cloud such as might cover the top of any mountain, but rather the smoke and darkness of an active volcano.10 The people are afraid, as they would not have been of an ordinary cloud. Ps. 97.2 and Joel 2.2 describe the dwelling place of the Lord as being in clouds and thick darkness. In I Kings 8.10–11 the priests could not remain in the temple because of the cloud, ‘because the glory of the Lord filled the house’.11 In the New Testament on the other hand, the dwelling place of the Almighty is not in darkness but in light: ‘The King of Kings and Lord of Lords, who alone has immortality and dwells in unapproachable light, 7 G. Habra, La Transfiguration selon les P`eres Grecs (Paris, 1973), p. 44: ‘The flesh of Christ has always been transfigured.’ 8 Philo, Questions on Exodus 47 (on Ex. 24.17), in Philo, Works, Philo Supplement 2, trans. R. Marcus, Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1953), pp. 92–4 9 Ex. 24.17 10 Ex. 19.18 11 The Septuagint omits the next two verses: ‘Then Solomon said, “The Lord has set the sun in the heavens, but has said that he would dwell in thick darkness. I have built thee an exalted house, a place for thee to dwell in for ever.”’

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whom no man has ever seen or can see.’12 The light is not necessarily dazzling; it simply forms a veil between God and our eyes.

3.2.1

Development in the Jewish Tradition

Philo does not see the cloud at the top of Mount Sinai as the main barrier between God and man; the whole mountain is no-man’s land: The mountain, moreover, is most suitable to receive the manifestation of God, as the name ‘Sinai’ shows, for when it is translated into our language it means ‘inaccessible’. Now the divine place is truly inaccessible and unapproachable, for not even the holiest mind is able to ascend to such a height . . . as merely to approach and touch it.13 Moses is the one exception to this. Philo explains that the nature of God is invisible because ‘we have in us no organ by which we may form an image of it, neither sense organ, for it is not sense-perceptible, nor mind . . . And why is it astonishing if the Existent is inapprehensible to men when even the mind in each of us is unknown to us?’14 God is incapable of being seen by us, simply because he never created the means by which we might see him. This is common sense, of course. But it does not explain why the mountain itself is unapproachable, or how it is that Moses is able to make an ascent which ‘even the holiest mind’ cannot, particularly as God is intrinsically unknowable by human senses. The cloud, however, is the place where the encounter with God takes place: ‘Entering into the dark cloud, the invisible region, [Moses] abides there while being initiated into the most holy mysteries. He becomes, however, not only an initiate, but also hierophant and instructor of divine rites, which he will impart to those pure of ear.’15 The real purpose of the cloud seems to be to conceal Moses from the sight of the people while he is being initiated. It is the fire which is the actual agent of concealment of the nature of God. Philo has a typically Hellenistic attitude to the ‘dazzling darkness’: an incorporeal beam purer than ether suddenly flashed over him and disclosed the intelligible world led by its charioteer. 12

1 Tim. 6.16 Philo, Questions on Exodus 45 (on Ex. 24.16a), pp. 89–90 14 Philo, De Mutatione Nominum 7–15, D. Winston, trans., Philo of Alexandria, (New York and London, 1981) pp. 141–2 15 Philo, The Giants XII, D. Winston, trans., Philo of Alexandria, p. 69 13

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That charioteer, irradiated by a circle of undiluted light, was difficult to discern or to divine, for the eye was enfeebled by the sparkling lights . . . it was not a vision showing what he is, but only that he is.16 This charioteer is Apollo, not the God of the Merkabah. Apollo became identified at an early stage with the sun god Helios, the charioteer who drove the sun. Pindar describes him as ‘the Father who begetteth the rays of light, The Lord of fire-breathing steeds . . . ’.17 The idea that we cannot perceive what God is, but only that he exists, is frequently found in Neoplatonist thought. Josephus, writing in the same century as Philo, has no mention of the cloud in his description of Moses’ ascent of Sinai. Instead he emphasizes the dazzling of the eyes: Now Moses called the multitude together, and told them that he was going from them unto Mount Sinai, to converse with God; to receive from him, and to bring back with him a certain oracle: but he enjoined them to pitch their tents near the mountain, and prefer the habitation that was nearest to God before one more remote. When he had said this, he ascended up to Mount Sinai, which is the highest of all the mountains that are in that country,18 and is not only very difficult to be ascended by men, on account of its vast altitude, but because of the sharpness of its precipices also; nay, indeed, it cannot be looked at without pain of the eyes; and besides this, it was terrible and inaccessible, on account of the rumour that passed about, that God dwelt there.19 The light in which God dwells is only unapproachable because of the physical difficulty of ascending the mountain’s vertical precipices. Josephus does not associate the presence of God with the dazzling, which may be caused by sun shining on snow at the summit. Had the mountain top been covered in cloud, there would have been no dazzle. Therefore the cloud and the bright light appear to be mutually exclusive. 3 Enoch, which is much later than Philo and Josephus, has both cloud and bright light (although not with respect to Moses on Mount Sinai). The Shekinah is portrayed as a bright light in Chapter 5: 16 17

Philo, De Praemiis et Poenis 37–9 , D. Winston, trans., Philo of Alexandria, pp. 127–8 Olympian Ode VII.70–71, The Works of Pindar, trans. L.R. Farnell (London, 1930), p.

36 18 19

The highest peak in the area is actually Mt Katrina, 2642m. Mt Sinai is 2285m Antiquities of the Jews III.5, trans. W. Whiston (London, about 1850)

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist The first man and his generation dwelt at the gate of the garden of Eden so that they might gaze at the bright image of the Shekinah, for the brilliance of the Shekinah radiated from one end of the world to the other, 365,000 times more brightly than the sun; anyone who gazed at the brightness of the Shekinah was not troubled by flies or gnats, by sickness or pain; malicious demons were not able to harm him, and even the angels had no power over him. When the Holy One, blessed be he, went out and in . . . all gazed at the bright image of his Shekinah and were unharmed – until the coming of the generation of Enosh, who was chief of all the idolators in the world.20

and as a luminous cloud in Chapter 37: Four chariots of the Shekinah stand in the seven palaces, and before each of them stand four camps of the Shekinah. Between one camp and another a river of fire flows along. Between one river and another is a circle of bright clouds. Perhaps this is the same ‘circle of undiluted light’ that we have already met in Philo. In spite of its intensity the divine brilliance is neither frightening nor painful to look upon, but positively beneficial. But the Greater Hekhaloth, on the other hand, tells a different story: Whoever looks upon him is instantly torn; whoever glimpses his beauty immediately melts away. Those who serve him today no longer serve him afterwards: for their strength fails and their faces are charred, their hearts reel and their eyes grow dim at the splendour and radiance of their king’s beauty. No eyes are able to behold it, neither the eyes of flesh and blood, nor the eyes of his servants.21 In Chapter 26.9–12 the Dazzling Darkness makes an appearance, but it is the brightness of the light of the seraphim, not of the Shekinah: ‘Every one of them radiates light like the splendor of the throne of glory, so that even the holy creatures, the majestic ophannim and the glorious cherubim, cannot look on that light, for the eyes of anyone who looks on it grow dim from its great brilliance.’22 20

3 Enoch 5.1–6, p. 241 Margaret Barker The Great Angel (London, 1992), p. 80 22 J. Charlesworth, The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha I 21

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Development in the Christian Tradition

Dionysius’ use of allegory sets him in the Alexandrian tradition, and his treatment of the Cloud is generally accepted as being based on Gregory of Nyssa’s Life of Moses. Gregory was influenced in turn by Origen. Thence the line stretches back to Clement of Alexandria and Philo. For Clement, God cannot be localized in the cloud alone: that which is called the descent on the mount of God is the advent of divine power pervading the whole world, and proclaiming the light that is inaccessible . . . Over the whole place of the vision the burning fire was seen by them all encamped as it were around; so that the descent was not local. For God is everywhere.23 God is no longer to be confined to the Jewish people. Since the coming of Christ, he may be worshipped throughout the world. It is the darkness which most interests Clement, for darkness is ‘the unapproachable, imageless, intellectual concepts relating to ultimate reality. For God does not exist in darkness. He is not in space at all.’24 He is also thinking of darkness in the sense of ‘the unbelief and ignorance of the multitude’ which ‘obstructs the gleam of the truth’.25 The concept of God being hidden by a cloud occurs in the Orphic Hymns: Him I see not, for round about a cloud Has settled; for mortal eyes are small And mortal pupils – only flesh and bones grow there.26 The long version of the original hymn goes further than Clement in claiming different abilities for perception of the divine by different people. The author refers to Moses being the only man actually to see God: But I do not see him, because around him a cloud is set up, A thin one for me, but tenfold for all other people. For all mortals have mortal pupils in their eyes, Too small, since flesh and bones have produced them, Too weak to see Zeus, the ruler of all. And no one has seen the ruler of mortal men, 23

Stromateis VI.3 Stromateis II.2.6 25 Stromateis V.12 26 Stromateis V.12 24

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist Except a certain unique man, an offshoot from far back of the race Of the Chaldaeans.27

The distinction between Moses and other men is also found in Philo, on whom this version was probably an influence, being dated to the second to fourth century BC. Origen is not interested in the cloud; his goal is not darkness but light.28 As with Philo and Clement, it is fire rather than darkness that he associates with God: ‘our God is a consuming fire – a fire that both warms and illuminates’.29 His homilies on Exodus are notable in omitting the whole episode of Moses on Sinai, between Exodus 19 and 34. Origen, in fact, has a rather negative view of darkness. It is: a Hebrew way of showing that the ideas of God which men understand in accordance with their merits are obscure and unknowable, since God hides himself as if in darkness from those who cannot bear the radiance of the knowledge of him30 and who cannot see him, partly because of the defilement of the mind that is bound to a human ‘body of humiliation’, partly because of its restricted capacity to comprehend God.31 Only the Logos has an absolute understanding and knowledge of God. Any knowledge we might have is derived from this ‘by participation in him who took away from the Father what is called darkness, which he made “his hiding-place”, and what is called his covering, “the great deep”, thus revealing the Father, anyone whatever who has the capacity to know him may do so’.32 This last point of Origen’s, that God may be known by anyone who has the capacity to do so, is only a small step away from the long version of the Orphic hymn quoted by Clement. The Origenist teaching, that God reveals himself to men according to their individual capacity to receive 27

J. Charlesworth, ed., The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, II, p. 799 Hebrews 12.29; Contra Celsum VI.67 29 Commentary on Song of Songs II.2.16–22, Sources Chr´etiennes 375 (Paris, 1991), pp. 307–13 30 An allusion to Plato, Republic 518A. See also Origen, Contra Celsum IV.15: ‘But sometimes he (the Word) comes down to the level of him who is unable to look upon the radiance and brilliance of the Deity, and becomes as it were flesh, and is spoken of in physical terms, until he who has accepted him in this form is gradually lifted up by the Word and can look even upon, so to speak, his absolute form.’ 31 Origen, Contra Celsum VI.17, trans. H. Chadwick (Cambridge, 1953), p. 330 32 Origen, Contra Celsum VI.17, trans., H. Chadwick, p. 331 28

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him, is taken up by Dionysius: ‘The things of God are revealed to each mind in proportion to its capacities; and the divine goodness is such that, out of concern for our salvation, it deals out the immeasurable and infinite in limited measures.’33 Gregory follows Philo, Clement and Origen in using darkness to represent the ultimate incomprehensibility and inaccessibility of God. What is new to him is the idea (not in the LXX) that Moses actually saw God in the darkness: ‘What does it mean that Moses entered the darkness and then saw God in it? What is now recounted seems somehow to be contradictory to the first theophany [i.e. the burning bush, Life of Moses, I.20 and II.19–26], for then the Divine was beheld in light, but now he is seen in darkness.’34 The description of Moses’ ascent of Sinai can be found in Book I.42–6: Then the clear light of the atmosphere was darkened so that the mountain became invisible, wrapped in a dark cloud . . . he boldly approached the very darkness itself and entered the invisible things where he was no longer seen by those watching. After he entered the inner sanctuary of the divine mystical doctrine, there, while not being seen, he was in company with the Invisible. As with Philo, it is necessary for Moses to be hidden from the people. But Gregory also equates darkness with ignorance: Although the word presents to all equally what is good and bad, the one who is favourably disposed to what is presented has his understanding enlightened, but the darkness of ignorance remains with the one who is obstinately disposed and does not permit his soul to behold the ray of truth.35 The idea is beginning to emerge that it is in ignorance that we encounter God most intimately. This is perhaps why Gregory stresses darkness rather than cloudiness. What Gregory and Philo do have in common is their use of mystery religion terminology; Moses is a hierophant. A period of purification precedes an initiation into sacred mysteries which he will then pass on to those who are fit to receive them. Hence the need for secrecy at the meeting with the Divine on the mountain top. God must not be available to the wrong people! All this, of course, is recognizable in the Dionysian corpus. 33

DN 1.1588A–B and many other places Life of Moses II.162 35 Life of Moses II.265 34

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In Gnosticism clouds and darkness are both associated with ignorance and evil. An interesting example of Gnostic use of the fog/cloud theme occurs in the Valentinian Gospel of Truth: ‘Ignorance of the Father caused agitation and fear. And the agitation grew dense like fog, so that no one could see . . . [Error] dwelt in a fog as regards the Father . . . ’.36 A good God therefore cannot be associated with them. So to express man’s inability to communicate with God, another form of sensory deprivation than blindness must be used to express his absence. Hearing is the other main means by which we communicate with each other. If God is so transcendent that he cannot even speak to us, he could be said to dwell in silence, and therefore it is in silence that he must be sought. The use of silence as a hiding place for God is a common Gnostic theme. According to Clement of Alexandria, the followers of Simon Magus taught that the root of the universe was Unfathomable Silence.37 The Apocryphon of John begins: ‘The teaching of the Saviour and revelation of the mysteries, which are hidden in silence’.38 In The Trimorphic Protennoia it is not the supreme and unknown God who dwells in silence, but the Word: ‘I am the Word who dwells in ineffable silence. I dwell in undefiled light . . . I alone am the Word, ineffable, incorruptible, immeasurable, inconceivable.’39 In Thunder, Perfect Mind, it is the silence itself that is incomprehensible.40 The invention of the Dazzling Darkness itself has, up to now, been attributed to Dionysius. But an earlier example occurs in Book I, Chapter 2 of Pistis Sophia, a fourth century work of Egyptian origin: It happened, however, on the 15th of the moon in the month of Tobe, which is the day on which the moon becomes full . . . there came forth . . . a great power of light, giving a very great light, and there was no measure to its accompanying light, for it came forth from the Light of Lights . . . That light-power, however, came down upon Jesus and it surrounded him completely as he was sitting at a distance from his disciples, and he gave light exceedingly, there being no measure to the light which was his. And the disciples did not see Jesus because of the great light in which he was, or which was his, for their 36

The Gnostic Scriptures, ed. B. Layton (Garden City, NY, 1987), p. 253; Nag Hammadi Library I.3, ed. J. Robinson, p. 38 37 Clement of Alexandria, Stromateis II.2.52 38 Gnostic Scriptures, ed. B. Layton (Garden City, NY, 1987), p. 28 39 Nag Hammadi Library XIII.1, ed. J. Robinson, p. 468 40 Nag Hammadi Library VI.2, p. 272

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eyes were darkened because of the great light in which he was . . . .41 This work may itself be dependent on Philo, although Hayman suggests a relationship with the Sefer Yetzirah.42 This is a post-resurrection transfiguration scene. McGuckin has examined a large number of Patristic exegeses of the Transfiguration. The Greek Fathers do not treat the Transfiguration as a revelation, but rather as a demonstration of the hiddenness of God.43 Chilton suggests44 that the Transfiguration narrative might have been connected with establishing the authority of the Apostles in the early Church. Perhaps there are echoes of this in Anselm’s treatment of the Inaccessible Light in the Proslogion: O Lord my God, teach my heart where and how to seek you, where and how to find you . . . Surely you dwell in light inaccessible – Where is it? And how can I Have access to light which is inaccessible? Who will lead me and take me into it So that I may see you there?45 If assertions of the unknowability of God become more frequent at times when the authority of the Church is an issue, this would support Chilton’s theory. The Greek Fathers differ from the Pistis Sophia account in the effect that the light has on the disciples, who either recoil in terror or fall on their faces. John Chrysostom, for example: And yet he did not show us here the full radiance of the age to come. The splendour here was a condescension rather than a true manifestation of what it will be like . . . On the mountain only so much was revealed to them as was possible to see 41

Nag Hammadi Studies IX, trans. V. Macdermot (Leiden, 1978), pp. 4–5. P. Hayman, Journal of Jewish Studies 40 (1989): 231 43 J.A. McGuckin, The Transfiguration of Christ in Scripture and Tradition (New York, 1986), p. 100. 44 B.D. Chilton,‘The Transfiguration: Dominical Assurance and Apostolic Vision’, NTS 27.1 (1981): 123–4 45 Proslogion 1, The Prayers and Meditations of Saint Anselm, trans. B. Ward (London, 1973), pp. 239–40 42

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist without damaging the eyes of those who looked on, and even then they could not bear it and fell on their faces.46

Dionysius does not treat the dazzling darkness in this way; his brightness is neither frightening nor painful. I feel that he is closer to Pistis Sophia than to any of the Greek Fathers in this respect. Pistis Sophia is the only example I have found where the brightness of the light alone is sufficient to cause selective and temporary blindness. St Paul on the Damascus Road springs to mind, but it is surely significant of his ambivalence towards Paul that Dionysius does not refer to this incident anywhere in his writings. Perhaps he wanted to exclude it on account of its visionary nature, but he does use the vision of Carpos in Epistle 8, so his exclusion of Paul’s vision on the road to Damascus, and also that in 2 Cor. 12.1–4, seems suspicious. Since the Damascus Road vision was so important as a formative influence on Christian doctrine, and in particular the doctrine of the atonement, I suspect that Dionysius may have wanted to play down the vision as a means of revelation of doctrine. As we shall see, he felt strongly that the Church was the only authority for the transmission of Christian doctrine. The untitled text in the Bruce Codex, a work of Sethian provenance, has a Father who is surrounded by invisibility: ‘This is he whom they call the light-darkness, because of the excess of his light.’47 It would be interesting to know the extent of Dionysius’ relationship with the Sethians.

3.2.3

Development in Pagan Traditions

Pagan Neoplatonists did not have a darkness mysticism as such.48 For them, as for the Gnostics, darkness was synonymous with ignorance. Although the Hermetic writings cannot be considered to enshrine a coherent teaching on this theme, there is a sense of God’s benevolence which seems too personal to belong with the transcendence of the dazzling darkness: the vision of the Good is not a thing of fire, as are the sun’s rays; it does not blaze down upon us and force us to close our eyes; it shines forth much or little, according as he who gazes 46

Ad Theodorum Lapsum, 1.11, PG 47.291, McGuckin, The Transfiguration of Christ, pp. 172–6. See also Chrysostom, Homily 56 In Matthaeum 17: ‘For just as the eyes are darkened by excessive radiance, so did it happen to them at that time. It was not night but daytime, and the splendour of the rays pressed heavily on the weakness of their eyes.’ (PG 58.550f) 47 Nag Hammadi Studies XIII, trans. V. Macdermot (Leiden, 1978), p. 235 48 B. McGinn, The Foundations of Mysticism (London, 1991), p. 175

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on it is able to receive the inflow of the corporeal radiance. It is more penetrating than visible light in its descent upon us, but it cannot harm us. However, because the full unveiled sight of the beauty of the Good is deifying, it is impossible to see it in this mortal life; we must be changed: ‘Then only will you see it, when you cannot speak of it; for the knowledge of it is deep silence.’49 This mention of silence may have its origin in the Isiac mystery cult. Apuleius describes one of their processions in which the multitude of initiates was followed by the priests, each of whom carried one or more emblems to represent the gods. One of the priests ‘bore upon his happy breast the holy image of his Deity’ [Osiris], which was ‘an ineffable symbol of a religion that must surely be sublime and to be concealed in profound silence’.50 Proclus, in his De Providentia et Fato et eo quod in nobis IV.172, speaks of both silence and the dazzling darkness: Now that we are coming close to the Cause of all things, there must be, not only a hush of the opinion, a hush of the imagination, and a cessation of all emotions that prevent us from rising upward to the One, but also a stillness in the air and a stillness of all else. For let all things lead us by the calmness of their power to the presence of the Ineffable. And standing there raised above all that has being, we kneel to It as to the Rising Sun, blinded in our eyes.51 Probably we need look no further that Plato’s Sophist for the ultimate origin of the Dazzling Darkness: Shall we not say that the division of things by classes and the avoidance of the belief that the same class is another, or another the same, belongs to the science of dialectic? Yes, we shall. Then he who is able to do this has a clear perception of one form or idea entirely through many individuals each of which lies apart, and of many forms differing from one another but included in one greater form, and again of one form evolved by the union of many wholes, and of many forms entirely apart 49 Libellus X.4b, W. Scott, trans., Hermetica I, pp. 188–9 or B. Copenhaver, trans., Hermetica, p. 31 50 Apuleius, Metamorphoses XI, written about 125AD, is in P.D. Scott-Moncrieff, Paganism and Christianity in Egypt (Cambridge, 1913), pp. 34–7 51 L.J. Ros´an, The Philosophy of Proclus (New York, 1949), p. 217

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist and separate. This is the knowledge and ability to distinguish by classes how individual things can or cannot be associated with one another. Certainly it is. But you surely, I suppose, will not grant the art of dialectic to any but the man who pursues philosophy in purity and righteousness. How could I be granted to anyone else? Then it is in some such region like this that we shall always . . . discover the philosopher, if we look for him; he also is hard to see clearly, but the difficulty is not the same in his case and that of the sophist. How do they differ? The sophist runs away into the darkness of not-being, feeling his way in it by practice, and is hard to discern on account of the darkness of the place. Don’t you think so? It seems likely. But the Philosopher, always devoting himself through reason to the idea of being, is also very difficult to see on account of the brilliant light of the place; for the eyes of the soul of the multitude are not strong enough to endure the sight of the divine.52

Dionysius knew this work; there are other allusions to it in the Divine Names and the Letters, notably Letter 7, 1080A–C. A pagan hymn which was once mistakenly thought to be by Gregory of Nazianzus53 contains so many Dionysian features that it has, at some time or another, also been attributed to him. Ros´an presents compelling internal evidence for Proclus’ authorship,54 although Saffrey considers that the quality of the poetry rules out Proclus as the author:55 >W pˆntwn âpèkeina, tÐ g€r jèmic Šllo se mèlpein?

PÀc lìgoc Ímn sei se?

SÌ g€r lìgú oÎdenÈ ûhtìc.

MoÜnoc â°n Šfrastoc, âpeÈ tèkec íssa laleØtai. PÀc nìoc ‚jr seise?

SÌ g€r nìú oÎdenÈ lhptìc.

MoÜnoc â°n‚gnwstoc, âpeÈ tèkec íssa noeØtai. Pˆnta sekaÈ lalèonta kaÈ oÎ lalèonta ligaÐnei, Pˆnta se kaÈnoèonta kaÈ oÎ noèonta geraÐrei, XunoÈ gˆr te pìjoi, xunaÈ d ²dØnec pˆntwn AmfÐ se, soÈ dà t€ pˆnta proseÔqetai; eÊc sà dàpˆnta SÔnjema sän noèonta laleØ sig¸menon Õmnon.

52

Plato, The Sophist 254A, Loeb Classical Library, p. 403 H.M. Werhahn, ‘Dubia und Spuria unter den Gedichten Gregors von Nazianzen’, Studia Patristica 7, Texte und Untersuchen 92 (Berlin, 1966): 345–6 54 L.J. Ros´an, The Philosophy of Proclus, pp. 53–4 55 Proclus: Hymnes et Pri`eres, ed. H.D. Saffrey (Paris, 1994), pp. 75, 78. My translation 53

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SoÈ ânÈ pˆnta mènei;soÈ d ‚jrìapˆnta, kaÈ joˆzei, KaÈ pˆntwn tèloc âssÐ, kaÈ eÚc, kaÈ pˆnta, kaÈ oÎdèn OÎq én â°n, oÎ pˆnta. An¸nume, pÀc se kalèssw Tän mìnon ‚kl iston? Íperfanèac dà kalÔptrac TÐc nìoc oÎranÐdhc eÊsdÔsetai? VIlaoc eÒhc, >W pˆntwn âpèkeina, tÐ g€r jèmic Šllo se mèlpein? [O you who are beyond all things, how else is it lawful to sing to you? How can a word describe you? For you are defined by no words. You, the only unutterable, being the begetter of all speech. How can mind consider you? For you are comprehended by no mind. You, the only unknowable, being the begetter of all thought. Everything which speaks and which does not speak proclaims you. Everything which thinks and which does not think honours you. For the common yearnings, the common pangs rise up to seek you. All things pray to you; all things which discern your signs Sing a hymn to you in silence. All things abide in you; all things unite in you, and hurry to you, And you are the end of all: the One, the All, the Nothing. You are Not One, Not All. Nameless, how can I name you – you, the sole undefined? What celestial soul can penetrate those dazzlingly bright veils? Be gracious. O you who are beyond all things, how else is it lawful to sing to you?] How else but in silence? This hymn is not by Dionysius. It is clearly pagan rather than Christian. But there are such striking parallels between this prayer and so much in the Dionysian corpus that it is difficult not to see it as having been written very close to the date of the latter. MT 1.1, 997B–1000A is particularly noteworthy in this respect. In line 14 I have translated Íperfanèac as ‘dazzlingly bright’; this seems the best way of saying ‘exceedingly bright’, although there is no suggestion in

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the Greek that the light hurts the eyes, only that it cannot be penetrated. This hymn could possibly have been written by Damascius or one of his contemporaries. In any case, the combination of apophatic expressions, indeed the whole style, is highly suggestive of a direct influence on Ps-Dionysius.

3.2.4

Ps-Dionysius’ Treatment of the Theme

Analysis of his language shows that Dionysius makes very little use of fog/cloud words. Nefèlh [‘cloud’] only appears twice: firstly as a name for God (DN 596C) and secondly to represent the angels, ‘to show that the holy and intelligent beings are filled in a transparent way with hidden light’ (CH 336A). Aqluc [‘fog/mist’] only occurs once: ‘å ‚gajäc . . . toÌc

noeroÌc aÎtÀc æfjalmoÌc ‚pokajaÐrein t¨c perikeimènhc aÎtaØc âk t¨c ‚gnoÐac ‚qlÔoc’ (‘The Good . . . clears away the fog of ignorance from the eyes of

the mind . . . ’) (DN700D). Instead he has a clear preference for darkness. Two words are used. Skìtoc is used when he wants to refer to darkness as distinct from light. The other word, gnìfoc, has a quite specific meaning; it is the ‘invisible darkness’ (DN 869A), ‘brilliant darkness’ (MT 997B), the ‘mysterious darkness of unknowing’ (MT 1001A), ‘the darkness so far above light’ (MT 1025A), which can be used of God alone. It has a numinous quality which skìtoc does not. Although the initial impression on reading Mystical Theology 1.3 is that Dionysius has taken the theophany on Mount Sinai from Gregory of Nyssa’s Life of Moses, there are two important differences between them. Firstly, it is not the same darkness. Gregory’s darkness is recognizable; it is the darkness we experience at night.56 Admittedly Gregory has one odd allusion to ‘John the Sublime, who penetrated into the luminous darkness’,57 but he neither expands this nor repeats it. Secondly, Gregory does not believe that we can ever attain to a final meeting with, or full knowledge of, God. There is infinite progress and the journey is never actually completed.58 Dionysius’ darkness, on the other hand, is not really darkness at all, but an excess of light, which only seems like darkness to us because the intensity of the light is such that we can see as little as if it were actually dark. The unapproachable light where God dwells is invisible because of a superabundant brightness: ‘‚orˆtú ge înti di€ t˜n Íperèqousan fanìthta’ (Ep. 5, 1073A). The second respect in which 56

Life of Moses II.315 Life of Moses II.163 58 R.E. Heine, Perfection in the Virtuous Life (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 1975), pp. 73–6. Gregory is trying to guard against any suggestion that God’s power might be limited. 57

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Dionysius’ understanding of darkness differs from Gregory of Nyssa’s is that, for Dionysius, there is a real meeting at the summit and not a never-ending quest for the unattainable. Bouyer suggests59 that Dionysius owed this to Evagrius who does not, admittedly, develop the cloud theme but is nevertheless strongly apophatic in his theology60 and who also believed in an eventual meeting with God.61 Not only does Dionysius use the themes of dazzling darkness and unapproachable light, he also links the darkness with silence, in a complete reversal of Gregory’s noisy mountain top, where the raucous blaring of trumpets increases steadily in volume with the ascent, so as to be painful to the ear. He has to do this in order to eliminate all sense impression; darkness is the absence of light, and silence the absence of noise. We must not use any of the senses as a means of comprehending God.

3.3

The Need for Intermediaries

It is evident that if a king is separated from his subjects by a hierarchy of intermediaries, his subjects will only know what he is like from what information he sees fit to transmit to them through those intermediaries, or that the latter see fit to allow those beneath them to receive. The king is unknowable because he is unapproachable. The same is true, Dionysius argues, of God and man. God is unknowable because he is unapproachable. Whatever the cause of the inaccessibility, whether it be Gnostic archons, Hermetic silence, the cloud at the summit of Mount Sinai, the curtain before the Throne, or the Dazzling Darkness, we cannot know anything about the Supreme Deity without the aid of some intermediary agency. Gods who are portrayed in human form, such as the Greek gods of Olympos (Zeus, Apollo) or the Mesopotamian gods (Tammuz, Astarte), are able to have a relationship with their worshippers in a way that a completely transcendent and unknown god cannot. The myths associated with their ‘lives’ provide the basis for a cult, which in turn forms a unitive focus for the community which grows up around it. The human Jesus is such a cult figure. The story in the Gospels of his miraculous birth, life and violent death is important precisely because it provides such a 59

L. Bouyer, La Spiritualit´e du Nouveau Testament et des P`eres (Paris, 1960), vol. I, p. 492 B. McGinn, The Foundations of Mysticism, p. 155 61 J.E. Bamberger, trans., The Praktikos and Chapters on Prayer (Kalamazoo, Michigan), vol. 3, p. 56 60

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focus. To the mythologist it is not of major importance whether or not the gospel accounts of his birth, life and death actually happened in the way that they are described; what does matter is that they are accepted as true by Christians, thus allowing their subject (Jesus) to take his place as saviour and unique revelation, in human form, of the divine nature. Once these ‘facts’ are questioned, there is a danger that the church may begin to fragment into those who believe the given ‘facts’ and those who do not. A clear-cut image of the god, together with the accompanying myths and liturgical requirements, appears to be essential for the maintenance of a cult. During the Hellenistic period the boundaries between cults became somewhat blurred with the development of hybrids such as Sarapis in Egypt and Abraxas. Deities from different cultures might be so similar as to become identified (Thoth and Hermes, Zeus and Amon). Such syncretism obviously fulfilled a need, but increasing complexity carries with it the risk of making communication between divine and human more problematical. Gnosticism is an example of what happens when this is taken to an extreme. This multiplication of intermediaries is characteristic of the Hellenistic period. Worshippers need gods whose appearance and personality they can imagine, and to whom they can therefore pray. It is for this reason that icons of saints and angels are so helpful. The picture or statue acts as a bridge between the human worshipper and the divine world. Many Protestants object to icons and statues because they imagine that people are praying to them. But strictly speaking this is not true. The icon is a window into heaven. An Orthodox at prayer in church or in his icon corner at home is surrounded by angels and saints. He does not pray to the icons themselves; he merely uses them as an aid to prayer, to help him focus on the unseen realities beyond. It is difficult (though not impossible) to pray to someone whose name, appearance and character are all unknown. It appears to have worked for the Hermeticists and for the writer of the Ps-Procline hymn quoted above in Section 3.2.3, whose devotion is all the more impressive on account of the transcendence of its recipient, but we have no evidence that either were religions for the masses. On the contrary, the implication is that Hermeticism was only intended for a select few.62 Yet is this not what Dionysius demands? Without some means of conveying divine truth, there is a real danger that we may be misled into believing that our perception of God corresponds with reality: However much, Lord, I would feel you, it is still not you 62

CH XIII.16,22, B. Copenhaver, trans., Hermetica, pp. 52–4

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yourself I touch, for my mind can touch nothing of your hiddenness: it is just a visible, illumined image that I see in the symbol of you; for all investigation into your being is hidden.63 There is a danger that if each individual believer has a one-to-one relationship with his god, each may make an idol to suit him- or herself. Freud and Feuerbach considered all belief in God as projection of a father, or other, figure. The Projection Theory appears to be confirmed by examination of individual beliefs, when these are free from the constraints of organized faiths. This may be responsible for further fragmentation of the worshipping community.64 Intermediaries between the divine and human worlds are needed to facilitate communication in both directions: a) from God to man: to control revelation. b) from man to God: as an aid to prayer or worship. From God to man In Old Testament Judaism, angels appear as agents of God, usually to protect those who are approved by him,65 but not in connection with revelation until the apocalyptic period.66 The doctrine that the Law was given by angels does not appear in the Bible until the New Testament,67 although, as we saw in Chapter 2, the idea was already current in the intertestamental period. In the late second to early third century Teachings of Sylvanus, which, like the Dionysian corpus, claims to be of the Apostolic period and which also shows the influence of Philo, the ultimate teacher of wisdom is Christ and not Moses: ‘It is impossible to comprehend the likeness of this One. For it is difficult not only for men to comprehend God, but it is also difficult for every divine being, both the angels and the archangels . . . You cannot know God through anyone except Christ.’68 63 St Ephrem, Nisibene Hymns 50, S. Brock, trans., The Harp of the Spirit, Studies Supplementary to Sobornost 4 (London, 1983), pp. 56–8 64 It may be no coincidence that the very churches which show the most disapproval of the use of icons and statues as an aid to prayer are subdivided into sects in a way that the Orthodox and Catholic churches are not. 65 Ex. 23.20–23, Isaiah 63.9, Daniel 6.22 66 Daniel 8.15–17, 9.21–23, Zech. 1.9–6.15 67 Acts 7.53, Galatians 3.19 68 Nag Hammadi Library VII.4, p. 353

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For Dionysius, however, knowledge of God comes quite definitely through the angels: ‘It could be argued that in the scriptural tradition the sacred ordinances of the Law were given directly by God himself to Moses . . . Yet theology quite clearly teaches that these ordinances were mediated to us by angels.’69 ‘The commands of the Father were given to Jesus himself by the angels.’70 Further on in the Celestial Hierarchy he makes it quite clear that the seraphim are ‘permanently united with [God] ahead of any of the others and with no intermediary’.71 Maximus/John of Scythopolis hastens to add, in one of his attempts to prove Dionysius’ orthodoxy, that this means no other orders of angels.72 Dionysius does not say this, exactly. He says ‚mèswc, nothing in between. The whole corpus is so carefully worded that he would undoubtedly have been more specific about this had he chosen. I take it that the ambiguity is deliberate. He wanted some, at least, of his readers to assume that he meant that there were no other angels between the Seraphim and God. But other readers might have understood him to be saying that there is nothing between the Seraphim and the Father, not even Christ. The concepts of God’s ineffability and unnameability appear for the first time in Philo.73 Like the Gnostics, he emphasizes the utter transcendence of God and hence the need for a series of intermediates between God and our world,74 without which there can be no relationship between them. A completely transcendent God is equivalent to no God at all, for practical purposes. So Philo adapted the Stoic logoi to Judaism. The Logos, an emanation from God, was ‘the necessary intermediary between God and man, the great agent of God in the moral and material worlds, the sole form in which God revealed himself to man. It is through, by and in the Logos that man feels after God and raises himself Godwards.’75 It is but a short step from here to the Christianity of John and Justin Martyr, a step which Philo, as a Jew, obviously does not take. For the Christian, the Logos is always identified with Christ. What is interesting about Dionysius is that he very rarely uses the word ‘logos’ to refer to Jesus. There are only three instances in the whole corpus: 69

CH 4.3, 180D–181A CH 4.4, 181C 71 CH 6.2, 200D 72 PG 4.64D 73 H.A. Wolfson, Philo, (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1968), vol. I, pp. 112–13 74 R.McL. Wilson, ‘Philo of Alexandria and Gnosticism’, Kairos 14 (1972): 213–19; quoted in The New Testament and Gnosis, ed. A.H.B. Logan and A.J.M. Wedderburn (Edinburgh, 1983) pp. 77–8 75 C.W. Griggs, Early Egyptian Christianity (Leiden, 1991), pp. 224–5 70

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It was all summed up by the divine Word himself: ‘I and the Father are one.’ (DN 2.1, 637B) . . . that benevolent act of God in our favour by which the transcendent Word wholly and completely took on our human substance and acted in such a way as to do and to suffer all that was particularly appropriate and exalted within his divinely human activity. This was something in which the Father and the Spirit had no share, unless of course one is talking of the benevolent and loving divine will and of the supreme and ineffable act of God performed in the human realm by him who as God and as Word of God was immutable. (DN 2.6, 644C) For because of his goodness and his love for humanity the simple hidden oneness of Jesus, the most divine Word, has taken the route of incarnation for us and, without undergoing any change, has become a reality that is composite and visible. (EH 3.III.12, 444A) In the vast majority of cases (dozens, literally), ‘Word’ refers to Holy Scripture. If Dionysius is thinking of the Logos as an intermediary at all, the overwhelming evidence is that he identified it with the Bible rather than Christ, and that it is the words of Scripture, rather than the Incarnation, that reveal God to us. From man to God The role of intermediaries as an aid to prayer is linked with depictability, as can be seen in Proclus’ Hymn to Athena, rich in its mythology: Shield-bearing goddess, hear, to whom belong A manly mind, and power to tame the strong! Oh, sprung from matchless might, with joyful mind Accept this hymn; benevolent and kind! The holy gates of wisdom by thy hand Are wide unfolded . . . All-saving goddess, to my prayer incline! Nor let those horrid punishments be mine Which guilty souls in Tartarus confine, With fetters fast’ned to its brazen floors, And lock’d by hell’s tremendous iron doors.

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Athena was easily visualized, whereas the One was not. Similarly, the Christian prays to Christ, Mary and the saints, whom he can visualize, rather than to the Father, whom he cannot. But Dionysius never prays to, or even through, Christ. It might be argued that CH 1.2, 121A contains a prayer to Jesus: ‘Let us, then, call upon Jesus . . . ’. The verb is âpikalèw, which means ‘to call upon’ in the sense of invoking or summoning. No petition follows; indeed, it is in our own strength, apparently, that ‘to the best of our abilities, we should raise our eyes to the paternally transmitted enlightenment coming from sacred scripture and, as far as we can, we should behold the intelligent hierarchies of heaven’. There appears to be a non sequitur here. On the other hand, he does offer up a hymn of praise77 to the angels.78 This is necessary because, in his hierarchy, it is they who have the real power to lead us up to the Father. This is strange because Dionysius tells us that we must not attempt to picture the angels, who are ‘beings so simple that we can neither know nor contemplate them’.79 It is characteristic of Dionysius that such inconsistencies occur from time to time. Enochian angels are part of a system which is highly visual. One can imagine the different heavens, the angels busy at their different tasks, the streams of fire, of ice, and so on. What Dionysius appears to be concerned with is to separate function and appearance. That which can be visualized may not be seen as an intermediary between God and man, lest it be worshipped instead of him. We must not stop on the way up the mountain, but must continue the ascent right to the very top. The problem with the historical Jesus is, perhaps, that he is far too easily portrayed and therefore too easily mistaken for the ‘invisible, infinite, ungraspable’ One. It is not that he is not God, but ‘Someone beholding God and understanding what he saw has not actually seen God himself, but rather something of his which has being and is knowable. For he himself solidly transcends mind and being. 76 Thomas Taylor’s translation of five of Proclus’ hymns can be found as an appendix to Marinus of Samaria’s Life of Proclus. This hymn to Athena is on pp. 80–83. 77 Dionysius’ use of ὑμνέω is frequently ambiguous. Here it means ‘to praise in song’, but often it simply means ‘described’ (e.g. EH 1.2, 372C and CH 2.3, 140D). Liddell and Scott list additional meanings. H. Koch has an interesting discussion of this in Forschungen zur Christlichen Literatur und Dogmengeschichte 86.I, ed. A. Erhard and J.P. Kirsch, (Mainz, 1900), pp. 46–7, 97; this will be discussed in greater length in Chapter 5 78 CH 2.1, 136D 79 CH 2.2, 137B

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He is completely unknown . . . ’.80 Dionysius never really tackles the question of how to pray to this unknown God. Having taken away the Christ of faith, he has seemingly nothing to put in his place, so far as the ordinary believer is concerned. This is a major weakness of his. We do have a God who understands our human weakness and need for relationship with him,81 yet Dionysius’ system does not show us how to pray to him.

3.4

Christology

As a self-confessed disciple of St Paul, who converted him to Christianity and whose Christology he would therefore be expected to follow, it is surprising to discover that Dionysius makes no claim for Paul’s authority in his ‘Christological’ passages. His only authority is ‘Hierotheus’, and his Christology is only mentioned once: The divinity of the Son82 is the fulfilling cause of all, and the parts of that divinity are so related to the whole that it is neither whole nor part, while being at the same time both whole and part. Within its total unity it contains part and whole, and it transcends these too and is antecedent to them. This perfection is found in the imperfect as the source of their perfection. But it also transcends perfection, and in the perfect it is manifest as transcending and anticipating their perfection. It is the form which is the source of form for the formless. But it also transcends form among the formed. It is the being pervading all beings and remains unaffected thereby. It is the supra-being beyond every being. It sets the boundaries of all sources and orders and yet it is rooted above every source and order. It is the measure of all things. It is eternity and is above and prior to eternity. It is abundance where there is want and superabundance where there is plenty. it is inexpressible and ineffable, and it transcends mind, life and 80

Ep. 1, 1065A Hebrews 4.14–16 82 I have corrected Luibheid’s translation here; the Greek critical text (pp. 134, l7) has ‘Son’, not ‘Jesus’. This reading is based on the mss Paris, Biblioth`eque Nationale, Cod Gr. 253, Cod. Gra. 933 and 438, and Florence Biblioteca Laurenziana, Conventi Soppressi, Cod 202. All four of these mss are ninth or tenth century. The Patrologia Graeca text, on which Luibheid’s translation is based, is taken from a seventeenth century edition, which has ‘Jesus’. 81

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Presumably the Son is to be identified with the incarnate Jesus, whom ‘Hierotheus’ does not otherwise mention in this passage, though he does so immediately afterwards. He is talking here about the divine nature per se, of which everything in the cosmos has a share. The divinity which is in Jesus is not restricted to one man, but is inherent in all. The time at which Dionysius is claiming to live makes it impossible for him to quote any of the Church Fathers by name. Apart from Scripture, the only authority to which he could appeal was St Paul. His Christology is certainly not Pauline, but then he does not mention Paul as an authority in this connection.84 Paul is referred to only in Divine Names and the Letters. This is strange; one would expect him to be indebted primarily to Paul for his understanding of the Christian faith. Not only this: Paul’s crucified Christ, whose blood redeems us, the Second Adam whose obedience makes up for the disobedience of the first Adam, is absent from Dionysius’ theology. Gregory of Nazianzus was much more explicit: To whom was offered the blood that was shed for us, and why was it offered, this precious and glorious blood of our God, our high-priest, our sacrifice?85 and Basil of Caesarea: One thing has been found of such worth as to pay the price for all mankind; the holy and most precious blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, which he poured out on our behalf for us all.86 Dionysius does admit at one point that Jesus ‘willingly died on the cross for the sake of our divine birth’, but nowhere does he say that Jesus died for our sins. In dying on the cross, Jesus is in effect anointing us with the sign of the cross in baptism, thus bringing about new birth. We are sanctified by him because he was himself baptized: ‘he who in human form received the sanctification of the divine Spirit for us . . . arranges now 83

DN 2.10, 648C J.M. Hornus, ‘Quelques r´eflexions a` propos du Pseudo-Denys l’Ar´eopagite et de la mystique Chr´etienne en g´en´eral’, Revue d’Histoire et de Philosophie Religieuses 27 (1947): 37–63 85 Oratione 45.22, in The Later Christian Fathers, ed. and trans. H. Bettenson (Oxford, 1970), pp. 111–12 86 Homiliae in Psalmos 48.3, in The Later Christian Fathers, p. 70 84

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for the gift to us of the divine Spirit.’87 In order to function as a hierarch in this way, he must himself be part of a hierarchy, ‘even though as God he was the source of every consecration, still in hierarchic fashion he referred this act of consecration to his most holy Father and to the divine Spirit’.88 Gregory of Nazianzus distinguishes between baptism with the Holy Spirit, which is Christian baptism, and the baptism of martyrdom, which is that of the cross.89 But for Dionysius the cross is the means by which we receive the Spirit which Christ received at his own baptism, rather than an atonement for our sins. Dionysius is generally regarded as having been a moderate Monophysite. His repeated assertions that ‘the timeless took on the duration of the temporal and, with neither change nor confusion of constitution, that which totally transcends the natural order of the world entered into our nature’90 are consistent with this. In spite of his preference for ‘Jesus’ instead of ‘Christ’ or ‘Our Lord’, there is no doubt about his divinity. But whereas the Christ of his Monophysite contemporaries Severus and Philoxenus of Mabbugh is both perfect God and perfect man,91 Dionysius’ Christ is ‘neither human nor non-human . . . It was not by virtue of being God that he possessed divine powers, nor by virtue of being a man that he had human ones, but he achieved something new, the power of the God-man, by being God made man.’92 This is one of the inconsistencies to which the author of the Dionysian corpus is prone. Others will appear in the course of this work. An initial reading of the Dionysian corpus gives a first impression that his Christ is, like that of Eutyches, a being in whom the human nature is swallowed up by the divine nature.93 Leontius of Byzantium also denied that Christ was ‘mere man’, as also did Julian of Halicarnassus.94 Dionysius’ lack of interest in Christ as a means of knowing God would be explicable if he were an Origenist. The tradition from which he comes is not first century Athenian Christianity, as he so carefully leads us to believe, but Alexandrian and/or Syrian Christianity. His description of himself as ‘a lover of the angels’ would be consistent with a connection 87

EH 4.III.11, 484C EH 5.III.5, 512C 89 Oratione 39.17 90 DN 1.4,592B. Luibheid makes ‘the timeless’ personal; I have replaced ‘he’ by ‘it’, since Dionysius is not thinking specifically about the human Jesus here. 91 J. Meyendorff, Christ in Eastern Christian Thought (Crestwood, NY, 1987), pp. 38–42 92 Letter 4; my translation 93 C.W. Griggs, Early Egyptian Christianity (Leiden 1991), pp. 203, 211 94 J. Meyendorff, Christ in Eastern Christian Thought, p. 63 88

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with either Alexandria or Syria. The Origenist Didymus the Blind made reference to the devotion which the people of Alexandria had for angels.95 The popular veneration of angels in Syria was enthusiastic enough for Philoxenus of Mabbugh to warn against it; he even found it necessary to destroy statues of angels on occasion, when he felt that the veneration of angels had gone too far.96 On the other hand, Dionysius is very much against the whole Origenist concept of a free movement of rational beings, human or angelic, up and down the spiritual ladder. It is a mistake, however, to assume uniformity of belief among sixth century Origenists. Even before the split which occurred at the death of Nonnus, there was a certain fluidity, brought about by the love of speculation among the more intellectual clergy, who were precisely those attracted to Origenism in the first place. Although the Monophysite party was officially anti-Origen, there was a certain blurring of the boundaries in the party of Theodore Askidas, for example.97 Both Bar Sudhaili and Sergius of Reshaina were Monophysites who were also strongly Evagrian in their thought. It was entirely possible for an intellectual such as Dionysius to be both Monophysite and Origenist in his sympathies, and this possibility will be explored. Because of the vast gulf between the holiness of God and the sinfulness of fallen humanity, a mediator is required who can bridge it. For the Christian this mediator is none other than Jesus Christ, in whom the two natures, divine and human, are united. Yet there is little mention in the Dionysian Corpus of Jesus as mediator. No satisfactory explanation has yet been proposed for this omission. The assumption that Dionysius really had little interest in Jesus as atoner or mediator (in opposition to Paul, for whom the crucified Christ was central)98 would seem to be too hot to handle.

3.5

Salvation

The Dionysian corpus is notable for its lack of interest in salvation by Atonement. There are only three direct references to the Cross, two of them being by way of explanation of the sign of the cross as used in baptism and the consecration of bishops, priests and deacons: 95

G. Bardy, Didyme l’Aveugle (Paris, 1910), p. 171 ˜ The Christian Art of Byzantine Syria (Reading, 1997), pp. 145, 149 I. Pena, 97 A. Guillaumont, Les ‘Kephalaia Gnostica’ d’Evagre le Pontique (Paris, 1962), pp. 173–4 98 Rom. 5.11, 1 Cor. 15.3, 2 Cor. 5.19, 1 Tim. 2.5 96

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. . . one may explain that rite at the purifying baptistery when the hierarch pours the ointment in drops to form a cross. He thereby shows to those able to contemplate it that Jesus in a most glorious and divine descent willingly died on the cross for the sake of our divine birth, that he generously snatches from the old swallowing pit of ruinous death anyone who, as scripture mysteriously expresses it, has been baptised ‘into his death’, and renews them in an inspired and eternal existence.99 The sign of the cross indicates the renunciation of all the desires of the flesh. It points to a life given over to the imitation of God and unswervingly directed toward the divine life of the incarnate Jesus, who was divinely sinless and yet lowered himself to the cross and to death and who, with the sign of the cross, that image of his own sinlessness, marks all those imitating him.100 This suggests salvation by works rather than by faith. The third reference is to the crucifixion: ‘What have you to say about the solar eclipse which occurred when the Saviour was put on the cross?’101 One would expect the chapter on the Eucharist to contain a clear statement of the Christian doctrine of salvation. What we get is a paraphrase of a Syrian Eucharistic prayer.102 What we do not get is Dionysius’ personal belief in salvation in his own words. The most convincing account of his own faith is found in Divine Names. Salvation takes many forms, according to the capacity of each individual to be saved: ‘Salvation is that which preserves all things in their proper places without change, conflict, or collapse towards evil, that it keeps them all in peaceful and untroubled obedience to their proper laws . . . ’ (DN 8.9, 897A). So it is not surprising that God ensures salvation by the provision of ‘our’ hierarchy.103 Dionysius does not take the view that only Christians are saved; Israel was saved by the keeping of the Law.104 Now this is certainly not orthodox Christian teaching, nor is his assertion that salvation takes many forms. Since Jews did not believe that the Law was given for the salvation of non-Jews, it follows that salvation for gentiles 99

EH 4.III.10, 484B EH 5.III.4, 512A–B 101 Letter 7, 1081A 102 P. Rorem, in Pseudo-Dionysius: The Complete Works, trans. C. Luibheid (New York, 1987), p. 220, n. 95 103 DN 8.9, 897A; EH 1.4, 376B 104 CH 8.2, 240D 100

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must take a different form or forms. Universalism was not then held to be incompatible with Christian faith; Gregory of Nyssa and Origen both held universalist views. Dionysius’ universalism is therefore more likely to be a sign of Origenist than of Jewish sympathies. Lying behind Dionysius’ teaching on salvation is his attitude to the human body. He does not encourage asceticism because he does not believe in a dualistic separation of body and soul. Salvation does not involve punishing the body for the good of the soul, for it is not the soul alone that is saved, but body and soul together: Sacred souls which in this life can tumble into sin will acquire in their rebirth an unshakeable conformity to God. And the purified bodies yoked to and travelling with these sacred souls, appearing in the same list and struggle, will . . . enjoy the reward of the resurrection and the same unshakeably divine life as that bestowed upon souls.105 It is too simplistic to contrast Hellenistic separation of body and soul after death with the Jewish belief that body and soul are resurrected together. Although Dionysius does fall into the latter group, this does not necessarily imply direct Jewish influence. The simplest explanation is that Jewish traits had always been endemic in Syrian Christianity.106 Owing to the importance of the Jewish community in Antioch, Jewish influence on Syrian Christianity was strong at this time.107 What we are seeing is, for the most part, confirmation of Dionysius’ Syrian (rather than Greek) background.

3.6

Conclusion

Whether God is known, or even knowable, is mainly a problem for those monotheists who have no intermediaries between God and man. Christianity, although monotheistic like Judaism, has the advantage over the latter in that Jesus himself makes known the nature of the Father (Jn 1.18). The believer need look no further than the Christ of faith. The Hellenistic influence on Judaism led in time to a greater and greater emphasis on the transcendence and inaccessibility of God; hence the 105

EH 7.I.1, 553A G. Quispel, ‘Judaism, Judaic Christianity and Gnosis’, The New Testament and Gnosis, ed. A.H.B. Logan and A.J.M. Wedderburn (Edinburgh, 1983), p. 47 107 ˜ The Christian Art of Byzantine Syria, p. 104 I. Pena, 106

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elaborate systems of intermediaries which developed, reaching their culmination in Gnosticism. Ps-Dionysius’ Dazzling Darkness is ultimately Platonist, his silence Hermetic or Gnostic (more likely the former). There is little Christian influence on his treatment of the Cloud/Dazzling Darkness/Silence theme. With the exception of Philo, his choice of inspiration is undoubtedly pagan in this respect. Indeed, there is something singularly un-Christian in his version of the emphasis on the utter unknowability of God. A Christian needs no intermediary but Christ, who shows us all we need to know of the divine nature. Yet Dionysius disregards him in favour of a hierarchy which, like Jacob’s ladder, starts on earth and reaches up to heaven. Dionysius seems to be saying that we must not use the senses of sight or hearing to create an anthropomorphic God. His angels cannot be visualized, he explains (CH 2.2, 137B), so they are ‘safe’ as a means of access to God. In his insistence on an unknowable God who can only be approached through a system of intermediaries, Dionysius is firmly monotheistic. He claims to be a Christian, yet his Christ is too distant, too unapproachable, too unreal, almost, to be recognisable as the Lord of the Church, in whom ‘we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace which he lavished upon us’ (Eph. 1.7–8).

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Chapter 4 The Monophysite Connection The key figures in the Monophysite party at the time of Justinian’s reign include Severus of Antioch, John of Tella, Peter of Reshaina, Thomas of Dara, Thomas of Damascus, Antony of Aleppo, Thomas of Himeria, Constantine of Laodicea, Peter of Apamaea and John Bar Aphthonia, all of whom were invited to a meeting with the new emperor in 527AD.1 Some of these men also took part in the Conference of 532AD, namely: John of Tella, Peter of Reshaina and John Bar Aphthonia, who again acted as scribe.2 These three men, together with Severus, seem to have been senior members of the party at the time of writing of the Dionysian corpus. If we add Paul of Callinicum and Zacharias (or Ps-Zacharias) of Mitylene (Rhetor), both of whom were responsible for producing works which contained (apparently pre-532AD) references to ‘Dionysius the Areopagite’, we have six men with a keen interest in furthering the fortunes of the party at this tricky time: Severus of Antioch, John of Tella, Peter of Reshaina, John Bar Aphthonia, Paul of Callinicum and Zacharias of Mitylene. The ‘pre-532AD’ references to ‘Dionysius the Areopagite’ would therefore seem to emanate from this group. I will now examine their careers in more detail.

4.1 4.1.1

Severus of Antioch Severus and the Monophysite Party

The leader of the party was Severus, Patriarch of Antioch 512–18AD and thereafter in exile in Egypt until his death in 538AD. As a moderate 1 2

Chronicon ad annum domini 846 pertinens, CSCO IV.4(2) (Leipzig, 1904), pp. 169–70 A. Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition II.2 (London, 1995), p. 234

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Monophysite, his theology was based on a rigorous exposition of that of Cyril of Alexandria.3 He opposed extremists such as the Eutychians (who emphasized the divinity of Christ to such an extent that the human nature became swallowed up in the divine) and Apollinarians (whose Christ had an incomplete human nature, the Logos replacing the human soul). Severus was implacably opposed to any ‘mingling of the natures’; Christ had a single nature which was a composition of divine and human.4 The Monophysite position may be summed up as follows: God the Word . . . cannot be ‘two natures’ or ‘in two natures’ because of his union and composition with a body. For . . . God the Word, who was formerly simple, consented for our sake to be united by composition with soul-possessing and intellectual flesh and without change to become man.5 Severus had a difficult task keeping the various factions of the party together, particularly as he was unable to preach openly while in exile for fear of reprisals. Even during his exile Severus continued to regard himself as Patriarch, and to be so regarded by others, and accordingly he set up a system to deal with various disciplinary and other ecclesiastical problems.6 It was even more important for him to be seen as the main power in the movement after the expulsion of the other non-Chalcedonian bishops from 521AD onwards. The early 520s were a difficult time for him; the two mainstays of the party, Jacob of Serugh and Philoxenus of Mabbugh died in 521 and 523AD respectively. One after another, his senior clergy died and could not be replaced, because no new clergy were allowed to be ordained to take their places. He could only keep in touch with the faithful by letter, and even this was not totally reliable. An additional blow was that from 521AD onwards, thousands of monks were driven out of their monasteries into the desert, many others being put to death.7 Severus seems to have felt inadequate to deal with the flood of theological questions which were now being put to him. During the mid-520s he wrote to Sergius of Cyrrhus and Marion of Sura: ‘During the whole time of the summer . . . I have never ceased being worried by constant letters from men who in various ways ask different questions at 3

R. C. Chesnut, Three Monophysite Christologies (Oxford, 1976), p. 2 J. Meyendorff, Christ in Eastern Christian Thought (Crestwood, NY, 1987), pp. 40–41 5 Zacharias Rhetor, Ecclesiastical History, IX.15, CSCO, Scriptores Syri, III.6 6 W.H.C. Frend, ‘Severus of Antioch and the Origins of the Monophysite Hierarchy’, Orientalia Christiana Analecta 195 (1973): 261–75 7 J. Lebon, Le Monophysisme S´ev´erien (Louvain, 1909), pp. 67–8 4

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different times and beg to have now scriptural expressions, now doctrinal theories, explained to them.’8 At the same time he was in hiding, continually in danger of being discovered and having to move on, ‘more than ever put to flight by enemies in my tracks . . . and I am unable without fear to publish discourses in opposition for those who wish to be involved in them’.9 It is no wonder that the party was in disarray, split as it was into many argumentative factions. Of the members of his own party, Julian of Halicarnassus, who held that the body of Christ was incorruptible even before the Resurrection, was the greatest thorn in his flesh during the period 518–27AD. Although extreme in his views, Julian was neither a docetist nor a Eutychian, though he was accused of being both. His Christ had a real human body and really suffered and died, but his suffering and death were different from ours. Because the body of the Second Adam was incorruptible, impassible and immortal, as that of the first Adam had been before the Fall, his passion was only possible because the Word allowed it to be so.10 The only difference between the pre-resurrection and post-resurrection states was that, at a particular moment in time, the Word chose to suffer no more. Now this is not true humanity as we understand it. The essence of being human is that we cannot help being flawed, changeable and mortal, because we have inherited Adam’s nature, including his moral weakness. So Christ could not have been perfect man if the ‘human nature’ which he assumed was incapable of sin, desire or the suffering which results from them.11 This was the problem with all the extreme Monophysites; for a variety of reasons, Christ was not perfect man. In order to support his argument, Julian did not hesitate to descend to the use of forged proof-texts.12 This type of dishonesty was unhappily not restricted to himself, but was resorted to by other members of heretical groups with their backs against the wall. Severus deplored this and seems to have been meticulously honest himself.13 In a letter to Caesaria the Patrician, written between 518 and 521AD, he complains that a short treatise is in circulation, purporting to be by him and written with the aim 8 The Sixth Book of the Select Letters of Severus, ed. E.W. Brooks (London, 1903–4), vol. II, pp. 350–59 9 ’The third letter to Sergius the Grammarian’, in I.R. Torrance, Christology after Chalcedon (Norwich, 1988), p. 225 10 M. Jugie, ’Julien d’Halicarnasse et S´ev`ere d’Antioche’, Echos d’Orient 24 (1925): 267–75 11 R.P. Casey, ‘Julian of Halicarnassus’, Harvard Theological Review 19 (1926): 206–13 12 W.H.C. Frend, The Rise of the Monophysite Movement (Cambridge, 1972), pp. 230, 233 13 J. Lebon, ‘Le pseudo-Denys l’Ar´eopagite et S´ev`ere d’Antioche’, Revue d’Histoire Eccl´esiastique 26 (1930): 882–3

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of discrediting him. This is not the only instance that he knows of, ‘the forgery and garbling having been done by certain persons whose business it is to forge such things’. This is obviously no new vice, for ‘the great Basil . . . asserts that certain persons were circulating forged and spurious letters against him’.14 Some confusion resulted from the misrepresentation, this undoubtedly being the intention: It is possible that you have no accurate knowledge of the points settled. For certain persons are, I learn, circulating letters purporting to have been written to me by the devout and religious bishop John. But it is probable that either they are forgeries or they contain additions made to please those who hold the opinions of Nestorius.15 For ‘Nestorius’, read ‘Chalcedon’.

4.1.2

Severus and the Origins of the Dionysian Corpus

Severus was badly in need of a reliable authority to whom he could appeal to settle the numerous theological disputes in which he was involved. It might be suspected that the Dionysian treatises were almost too suitable to be coincidental. Yet I am convinced that Severus was not party to the deception, and that he did not know the identity of the author, particularly as he disliked the practice of forgery.16 Secondly, his worry about having no expert theologian to help him with queries seems genuine. Thirdly, he had a great reverence for Dionysius of Alexandria (third century), whom he calls ‘the great Dionysius’ in a letter written towards the end of his episcopacy.17 In fact his letters during the period up to 527AD contain frequent appeals to the authority of Dionysius of Alexandria.18 Had the writings of ‘Dionysius the Areopagite’ been in circulation during this period (the 520s), they would presumably have eclipsed those of the third century man. The Alexandrian Dionysius may have been ‘greater’ than other Dionysii, but Dionysius the Areopagite would surely have been considered a greater authority still, had he written anything relevant to the questions being discussed. It is also unlikely that quotations from the works of such an exciting source would have stopped at one or two short quotations. 14

Select Letters of Severus, vol. II, pp. 448–9 Select Letters of Severus vol. II, p. 157 16 Select Letters of Severus, vol. II, pp. 448–55 17 Select Letters of Severus, vol. II, pp. 296–7 18 Frend, Rise of the Monophysite Movement, p. 226. See also Select Letters, passim. 15

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It is significant that none of Severus’ contemporaries seemed to be aware of the existence of the Areopagite either. Philoxenus of Mabbugh, in his long Letter to the Monks at Senoun,19 appeals to a comprehensive list of Fathers in support of his arguments. They include Athanasius, Basil of Caesarea, Cyril of Alexandria, Gregory of Nazianzus, Gregory of Nyssa, Ephrem, Gregory the Wonderworker and others. Yet not a single mention of Dionysius the Areopagite! This is strong evidence that the Dionysian corpus had not seen the light of day in 520–23AD, when this letter was written. Philoxenus’ florilegium in the Ten Memre against Habib has no mention of Ps-Dionysius either.20 Fourthly, references to Dionysius the Areopagite are absent from Severus’ Cathedral Homilies and are rare elsewhere. Furthermore, the angelic hierarchy given in Homily 72, which is different from that of Dionysius, and which was written in 515AD, shows that the corpus cannot have been written before that date. Of the Severian florilegia listed by Grillmeier,21 it is only in the anti-Julian polemic that there is any reference to Ps-Dionysius. He is not found in the Philalethes, the Liber contra Impium Grammaticum, or the Orationes ad Nephalium. Either Severus did not know of the existence of Ps-Dionysius until the Constantinople Collatio of 532–3AD or, if he did know of it earlier, it was not until after about 527AD that the Dionysian corpus was written. Given that they are so sparse and localized, it is possible that the so-called references to Dionysius the Areopagite in the writings of Severus may be later interpolations by editors, or others who wished to prove that Dionysius was prior to Severus rather than contemporary with him. Similar attempts, by Liberatus of Carthage and others, to prove his ‘antiquity’ have been revealed.22 Dionysius is cited three times only in the writings of Severus: twice in the anti-Julian polemic and once in a letter to ‘John the Hegoumenos’. The two anti-Julian citations are found in Contra Additiones Juliani23 and Adversus Apologiam Juliani 25,24 both written near the end of the protracted battle between the two men. Only the Philalethes and the Apology for the Philalethes were written after this. Since the debate fizzled out in about 527AD, the Contra Additiones and Adversus Apologiam would need to 19

Lettre aux moines de Senoun, CSCO 232, Scriptores Syri 99 (Louvain, 1963) A. Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition, II.1, p. 65 21 Christ in Christian Tradition, II.1, pp. 66–7 22 R. Roques, DS III, cols 247–8 23 CSCO 296, p. 133 24 CSCO 302, pp. 266–7 20

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have been written round about 525AD.25 The two quotations, from Divine Names 2.9, 648A, are almost identical. Contra Additiones has: But the most glorious thing which is attributed to God is the divine formation of Jesus in accordance with our own; it is inexpressible by any speech and inconceivable by any mind, even by the head of the most venerable order of angels. And that he should have become of one substance like a man, we have accepted as a mystery; but we do not know how he was formed of a virgin’s blood by a law other than that of nature. Adversus Apologiam Juliani has: But the most glorious thing which is attributed to God is the divine formation of Jesus in accordance with our own; it is inexpressible by any speech and unknown by any mind, even by the prince of the angels on high. And that he should have become of one substance like a man, we have accepted as a mystery; but we do not know how he was formed of a virgin’s blood in a fashion other than ours, which surpasses nature. In each case, the sentence which introduces the quotation is nearly identical, in spite of the preceding paragraph being quite different in the two instances (although the subject matter is the same). It has every appearance of having been taken from a florilegium or similar, and inserted into the text. The quotation is followed in both cases by the same quotation from a letter of Gregory of Nazianzen to Cledonius: ‘Whoever declares that he passed through the Virgin as through a channel, and does not say that he has been formed in her in a way which is divine and human at the same time – in a divine way, because it is without human assistance, and in a human way, because it is according to the law of childbirth – is equally impious!’26 But the Adversus Apologiam Juliani has, in addition to this, the words ‘or in a human manner, as Dionysius the Areopagite said’ inserted between ‘in a human way’ and ‘because it is according to the law of childbirth’, giving: Whoever declares that he passed through the Virgin as through a channel, and does not say that he has been formed in her in a way which is divine and human at the same time – in a divine way, because it is without human assistance, and in a human 25 26

CSCO 244, Scriptores Syri 104 (Louvain, 1964) CSCO 296 and 302 (my translation)

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way (or in the manner of a man, as Dionysius the Areopagite said), because it is according to the law of childbirth – is equally impious.27 This insertion may be a scholion which has become incorporated into the text, since it could not have been written by Gregory. If it had been added before the time of Severus, it is likely that he would have quoted the same version in each document. So it must have been added after Severus’ communication with Julian. Furthermore, Severus refers to this Gregory/Cledonius passage elsewhere. His first letter to Oecumenius28 refers to it, but without any mention of ‘Dionysius the Areopagite’. In the same letter he refers to Christ walking on the water, but again with no mention of Dionysius. Numerous other references to the Cledonius letter elsewhere in his voluminous correspondence contain no mention of Dionysius. The placement of scholia varied; some were written in the margin, others between the lines of text. Copyists might then insert them into the text.29 The references to Dionysius might have been added by Paul of Callinicum, who edited the correspondence between Severus and Julian and translated it into Syriac, which translation was completed in 528AD.30 If so, the Dionysian corpus would have to have been written before 528AD. Even if they had been in Severus’ own original manuscript, a dating of 525–8AD would still be likely, on account of the order of composition of the anti-Julian communications. But since the Philalethes and Apology for the Philalethes were written after the Contra Additiones and Adversus Apologiam Juliani, these would surely have contained some mention of Dionysius if Severus had become acquainted with him for the first time during the 520s. So it seems more likely that they were inserted by an editor or a scribe. The third passage of interest is found in the Third Letter of Severus to ‘John the Hegoumenos’. The recipient is possibly John Bar Aphthonia (John of Beith Aphthonia), who is named as the author of a biography of Severus.31 The relevant passage is: As we have already written to you in detail elsewhere, in the words of the very wise Dionysius, ‘But by being 27

I have added the parentheses for clarity PO XII (Paris, 1919), pp. 179–83 29 F. Diekamp, Doctrina Patrum de Incarnatione Verbi (Munster, 1907), pp. xli–ii 30 W. Wright, A Short History of Syriac Literature (London, 1894), pp. 94–5 31 W. Wright, Short History of Syriac Literature, p. 84; John Bar Aphthonia’s Life of Severus is in PO II 28

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist God-made-man, he achieved something new in our midst, the activity of the God-man. . . . ’ [‚ll ‚ndrwjèntoc jeoÜ kain n tina t˜n jeandrik˜n ânèrgeian ™mØn pepoliteumènoc]32

This letter has survived only in the late seventh century florilegium, the Doctrina Patrum de Incarnatione Verbi, which is a compilation of several older collections,33 so cannot even be proved to be by Severus. The word jeandrik  simply is not part of his vocabulary; it occurs nowhere else in his writings.34 For some time scholars have found the vocabulary of this letter puzzling.35 The letter is undated and therefore there is no justification for assuming that it was written before 532AD. Rorem and Lamoreaux also find no evidence to support an early dating for this letter.36 In fact, in the absence of any evidence to the contrary, it is more feasible to date it to 532–7AD. If this is part of the ‘long letter’ from Severus to John Bar Aphthonia, just before the latter’s death, then it must be dated to 537AD.37 Otherwise the reference to Ps-Dionysius could be a later addition to a letter written before 532AD. In his Dictionnaire de Spiritualit´e entry, Roques considers the possibility of the letter having been written as late as 532AD, but is inclined to place it with the anti-Julian polemic.38 This would be consistent with the argument for editorial interference by Paul of Callinicum. Severus himself did not attend the conference at Constantinople at which Ps-Dionysius made his first public appearance, supposedly on grounds of age (although he did visit the capital two years later!). Another reason that he gave was that he was being accused of bribery and corruption, which was against his principles; he wished to live in poverty and die in obscurity. It is most unlikely that he would have condoned the use of a forgery, even to benefit his own people. If he had known of the existence of the Areopagite forgery, it would have been against his conscience to have attended a conference where it was being used by his party. 32

F. Diekamp, Doctrina Patrum de Incarnatione Verbi, pp. 309–10; my translation. F. Diekamp, Doctrina Patrum de Incarnatione Verbi, pliii 34 J. Lebon, ‘Le pseudo-Denys l’Ar´eopagite et S´ev`ere d’Antioche’: 895 35 I.R. Torrance, Christology after Chalcedon, p. 110 36 P. Rorem and J.C. Lamoreaux, John of Scythopolis and the Dionysian Corpus (Oxford, 1998), pp. 11–15 37 Life of Severus, PO II (1907), pp. 257–8; Life of John Bar Aphthonia, ed. F. Nau, Biblioth`eque Hagiographique Orientale II (Paris, 1902), p. 6 38 DS III.249 33

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The temptation to ‘prove’ that Dionysius wrote before Severus’ episcopacy must have been strong, particularly once this had been called into question at the conference itself. Ps-Zacharias Rhetor, who completed the Historia Ecclesiastica, certainly did his best to present Hierotheus and Dionysius as bona fide doctors of the church, from whom Severus learnt and from whom he must therefore have quoted.39 Severus seemed to know of the existence of a small group of ‘certain persons whose business it is to forge such things’.40

4.2 4.2.1

Other Significant Monophysites John of Tella

After Severus himself, John Bar Qursus, bishop of Tella 519–21AD, was easily the most significant figure in the history of the Monophysite movement in the early sixth century. While Severus was virtually trapped in hiding in Egypt, John was active in Syria and Persia, preaching, ordaining and encouraging the faithful until his capture in January 537AD. His death in captivity led to him being regarded as the first saint and martyr of the Jacobite Church. Born in Callinicum in about 482–3AD of a wealthy family, John received a good education in Greek literature and philosophy. After working for a few years in local government, he became a monk at the monastery of Mar Zakkhai in Callinicum in about 508AD, at which time he was greatly inspired by St Paul. An avid scholar, he collected sayings from the writings of notable holy men, which he committed to memory and whenever possible visited anyone with a reputation for holiness. On account of his great humility, he did not want to be Bishop of Tella and had to be ordained by force.41 It was therefore with some relief that he took the opportunity of returning to the solitary life after his expulsion from Tella in 521AD. Even when, in the later years of the decade, he was performing many ordinations, he still dressed in rags in preference to garments befitting his office. John of Ephesus describes his own ordination as deacon in 528–9AD: When we came down to him and received the privilege of seeing him by night, we were astonished above all things by 39

Historia Ecclesiastica VII.12, CSCO III.6, pp. 37–9 Select Letters of Severus II, pp. 448–9 41 Vita Johannis Episcopi Tellae, auctore Elia, trans. E.W. Brooks, CSCO Scriptores Syri III.25 (Paris, 1907), pp. 34–6 40

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Perhaps Severus had him in mind when he wrote: ‘Do not think to yourself, because the man who was ordained high-priest is not clad in white raiment, that he is without the garments that are suprasensual and shine more brightly than the brilliancy of the sun.’43 John of Tella may have been politically active as early as the Council of Sidon in 511AD and the Council of Tyre in 514AD, if John of Ephesus is correct in listing him with the other Syrian bishops as a participant.44 He was not a bishop at this stage, but may have attended as an observer or a scribe. It is more likely that the reference is hagiographic wishful thinking on the historian’s part, for Zacharias Rhetor does not mention the presence of John of Tella at the Council of Tyre, and Timothy of Constantinople was certainly absent from Tyre, although listed as present by John of Asia.45 But John of Tella had certainly become one of the leaders of the Monophysite party by 527AD, for he was one of the nine bishops summoned to Constantinople by Justinian soon after his accession. Although the emperor attempted to bribe them, John spoke for them all in his refusal to accept any material gifts, seeing that the emperor would not receive spiritual gifts from them.46 Immediately after this, John of Tella and Thomas of Dara joined forces with Sergius of Cyrrhus, Marion of Sura and Nonnus of Circesium to ordain bishops, now that it was obvious that they could not count on the support of the new emperor, as they may have been anticipating. Up to this time John and Thomas had been living on the hill of Marde with Philoxenus of Doliche, which now became one of the bases for their activities.47 For the purpose of educating future priests, John of Tella also produced theological treatises to warn them against men like Julian of Halicarnassus and others whom the moderates considered unsound.48 These activities continued from about 528AD to early 537AD when John 42

John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints, part IV, ed. E.W. Brooks, PO XVIII, p. 521 Select Letters of Severus I, p. 191 44 John of Asia, Extraits Relatifs a` S´ev`ere, PO II, pp. 303–305 45 Historia Ecclesiastica VII.12, CSCO III.6, pp. 37–9; Extraits R´elatifs a` S´ev`ere, PO II (1907), pp. 303–5 46 Vita Johannis Episcopi Tellae, p. 39 47 Select Letters II, pp. 345–50; John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints, PO XVII, p. 228 48 Vita Johannis Episcopi Tellae, pp. 40–41 43

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was captured, by which time an immense number of men had been ordained as bishops, priests and deacons. The future of the church seemed assured. However, there was still a great need for some sort of handbook laying out the principles behind the establishment of the new breakaway hierarchy. Severus’ letter to Sergius of Cyrrhus and Marion of Sura, written between 522 and 527AD, indicates that no such work was in existence.49 At first glance the Dionysian corpus appears to be such a handbook but, as we will see in the next chapter, it was nothing of the kind. John had made his own collection of canons while he was at Tella, as presumably others had also. These were not comprehensive, simply the answers to questions which had been put to him while he was Bishop of Tella.50 Some of John of Tella’s beliefs can be found in his Confession of Faith (519–522AD) and in the account of the conversation between John and his captors in Elias’ Vita. He developed Cyril of Alexandria’s formula in proclaiming ‘one nature and hypostasis of the Word of God, who took flesh without confusion or change’.51 There is only one Christ, one Son and one nature. From his Confession of Faith: We confess that one union is made of divinity and of humanity: not that the natures of which the union has been made have been changed, nor that they have been confused; not that the nature of the divinity has been turned into flesh, or that the nature of the humanity has been turned into divinity. We say that the union has taken place, but it is one nature of the living Word which has become flesh and body from the Virgin. The union of the Son who has become body is made naturally and hypostatically, without change, without confusion, not in appearance and form, and not in imagination, but inasmuch as he has become like us in all respects except for sin; there remains one incarnate nature, without change and without division.52 The teachings of Apollinarius and Nestorius were, of course, rejected. The Word took a body, a flesh and a soul, not by adding them on, as it were, but by becoming corporeal while also remaining spiritual.53 49

Select Letters II, pp. 358–9 Dissertatio de Syrorum Fide, in Resolutiones Canonicae, ed. T.J. Lamy (Louvain, 1859), pp. 62–97 51 Vita Johannis Episcopi Tellae, p. 51 52 J. Lebon, Le Monophysisme S´ev´erien, p. 216 53 J. Lebon, Le Monophysisme S´ev´erien, p. 323 50

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Unlike Dionysius, John had little sympathy with either pagans or Jews, with whom he lumps the despised Nestorians, appealing to scripture to refute them: We will show them that the Scriptures proclaim one Son, and that things exalted and humble belong to only one Son, things divine and things human, the miracles and the sufferings. The exalted things belong to him because he is exalted by his nature, and because he comes from a superior and exalted place, and the things divine because he is God. The human things, because he is incarnate, the miracles, because they belong to his nature and the sufferings because, being impassible, he has been tested by suffering.54 John’s background in Greek philosophy is betrayed by a very Dionysian-sounding passage: [The Son] emerged from the inviolable interior of his divinity and left behind the celestial veil of his hidden state; he descended from his place of retreat and revealed himself by coming out of his hidden state to where he was already. The Eternal Begotten descended in an ineffable manner; the most high Son began in the Virgin’s womb; he was made a child in the womb, he was enclosed in the womb of flesh without losing his immensity, he, the Sun of Righteousness, the Consubstantial with the Father has taken a body from the Virgin and he was made man, without change, he who is simple and spiritual.55 There is, though, a warmth and emotion in this passage which is largely absent from Dionysius, however elegant he may be. Wright dates this Confession of Faith to John’s years at Tella.56 Dionysius might well have adapted this and similar passages.57 If he did, it would be further evidence that the Dionysian corpus was not written until after 521AD.

4.2.2

John Bar Aphthonia

This man was the only person listed as attending the meetings with Justinian who was not a bishop. As hegumen of a monastery, he could 54

J. Lebon, Le Monophysisme S´ev´erien, p. 471 J. Lebon, Le Monophysisme S´ev´erien, p. 181 56 W. Wright, A Short History of Syriac Literature, pp. 81–3 57 DN 1.4, 592A–B; DN 2.10, 648D–649A; EH 3.III.12,444A; EH 3.III.13, 444C 55

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well have been a priest; he was most certainly a scholar. According to Zacharias, John Bar Aphthonia came from Edessa, with a legal background of some kind, and ‘oriundum filium Aphthoniae’.58 The village of Bafetin, about midway between Antioch and Aleppo, may have derived its name from ‘Beith Aphthonia’, once the residence of a rich landowner of that name.59 Although this is a long way from Edessa, it is as likely that John’s family came from a village of this name as that his mother was named Aphthonia. He was Abbot of the monastery of St Thomas at Seleucia at the time of the expulsion of the monks from there in about 528AD, when he moved them to Qenneshre.60 Both of the monasteries under his control, particularly the one at Qenneshre, were notable for their study of Greek literature.61 One of his proteg´es was Mara of Amida, a fluent and skilled Greek scholar who built up an impressive library in Alexandria during his exile there.62 This tradition of scholarship at two of the main Monophysite centres, Qenneshre and Alexandria, together with this link between them, may be of significance in connection with the composition of the Dionysian corpus: a work which required a considerable background in secular scholarship and library resources. John Bar Aphthonia was already an influential and well-known figure at the time of the Council of Tyre in 514AD.63 Since a biography of Severus is attributed to him, he is often identified with the John who was abbot of the monastery of Beith Aphthonia.64 However, doubt has been cast on this attribution.65 Since John Bar Aphthonia died some three months before Severus, he cannot have written the account of Severus’ death. Either this was added afterwards, or else the whole of the Life was written by another abbot of Beith Aphthonia, probably John Psaltes, whose hymns in honour of Severus have been confused with those of John Bar Aphthonia, under whose name they appear.66 Our John was obviously an eloquent man, for he was responsible for putting into writing the declaration of faith by 58

Historia Ecclesiastica VIII.5, CSCO III.6, p. 54 ˜ The Christian Art of Byzantine Syria (Reading, 1997), p. 29 I. Pena, 60 ¨ ¨ P. Kruger, ‘Johannes bar Aphtonija und die syrische Ubersetzung seines Kommentars zum Hohen Liede’, Oriens Christianus 50 (1966): 63 61 W. Wright, A Short History of Syriac Literature, p. 84 62 Zacharias Rhetor, Historia Ecclesiastica VIII.5, CSCO III.6, p. 54 63 John of Asia, Extraits R´elatifs a` S´ev`ere, PO II, pp. 303–5 64 W. Wright, A Short History of Syriac Literature; John Bar Aphthonia’s Life of Severus can be found in PO II 65 ¨ ¨ P. Kruger, ‘Johannes bar Aphtonija und die syrische Ubersetzung seines Kommentars zum hohen Liede’: 66 66 Po´esies sur S´ev`ere, PO II, pp. 326–30 59

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the exiled bishops who were recalled by Justinian at the beginning of his reign in 527AD.67 These included Severus of Antioch, Antony of Aleppo, Thomas of Damas, Thomas of Dara, John of Tella, Thomas of Himeria, Peter of Reshaina, Constantine of Laodicea and Peter of Apamaea.68 Philoxenus of Mabbugh is also listed, in spite of having been dead for three years by then! This illustrates the danger of taking such data at face value, particularly when they may have been recorded some years after the event. On account of his fluent knowledge of Greek and Syriac John was again called upon to act as reporter and scribe at the Collatio at Constantinople in 532/3AD,69 on which occasion Ps-Dionysius made his official debut. John Bar Aphthonia was almost certainly party to the deception. Since he was not one of the bishops taking part in the discussion, he is unlikely to have been suspected himself. However, it is plausible that the Dionysian writings could have emanated from his monastery at Qenneshre. Of the six Syrian bishops present at Constantinople in 532/3AD, only John of Tella and Peter of Reshaina seem to have been present on the previous occasion in 527AD. No mention of Ps-Dionysius has been recorded in connection with any gathering earlier than 527AD, which suggests that it might have been the accession of Justinian in 527AD that acted as a trigger for the writing of the Dionysian corpus.

4.2.3

Peter of Reshaina

Although there is no indication of his presence at the Council of Tyre in 514AD, Peter had certainly become Bishop of Reshaina at some time prior to 519AD, because he was expelled in that year, along with so many other Monophysite bishops.70 He was among the bishops called for discussion with Justinian in 527AD, and was again present at the 532AD Collatio. We hear no more about him after this; he seems to have died in exile.71 As Sergius of Reshaina’s ‘illustrious’ bishop, they were certainly well acquainted.72 67 Ps-Zacharias, Historia Ecclesiastica IX.15, CSCO III.6, p. 84; Extraits R´elatifs a` S´ev`ere, PO II, p. 279–80 68 Chronicon ad Annum Domini 846 Pertinens, CSCO IV.4(2) (Leipzig, 1904), pp. 169–70 69 Zacharias Rhetor, Historia Ecclesiastica IX.15, CSCO III.6, p. 84 70 Zacharias Rhetor, Historia Ecclesiatica VIII.5, CSCO III.6, p. 53 71 E. Honigmann, Ev`eques et Evˆech´es monophysites d’Asie ant´erieure au VI si`ecle, CSCO 127, subsidia 2 (1951), pp. 104–5 72 Zacharias Rhetor, Historia Ecclesiastica IX.19

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4.2.4

115

Zacharias of Mitylene

Originally a supporter of the Monophysite party, Zacharias had joined the Chalcedonians by the time of his death in 536AD. In his youth he had been a fellow-student of Severus while they were both studying in Alexandria.73 He was the author only of Books 3–6 of the work that bears his name; the rest was added by an anonymous Syrian, who took the information from other sources.74 A biography of Severus is also attributed to him.75 Since the reference, in the Historia Ecclesiastica, to Severus being well versed in the interpretations of the Scriptures by Hierotheus and Dionysius appears in Book VII.12, it cannot have been written by Zacharias himself, but must have been added by his well-meaning successor. Zacharias can therefore be excluded from the group of those suspected of being involved with the composition of the Dionysian forgery, although he could still have passed on to his successor information which later became incorporated into the text. This man (Ps-Zacharias) had connections with Amida. There are a number of references to the place in the text, including one in Book 12.5 where he refers to Amida as ‘here’. Perhaps some of the work was written there. He seems also to have been personally acquainted with the young architect Eustace, a native of Amida, who accompanied Sergius of Reshaina on his last journey, for the lad told the historian something about Sergius’ behaviour during that period which ‘Zacharias’ felt would be unsuitable for publication. Presumably, therefore, the details were conveyed verbally rather than in writing.

4.2.5

Paul of Callinicum

A number of the Monophysite bishops who were deposed between 519 – 21AD used their enforced leisure for making translations from Greek into Syriac, in order to prepare and collect material to support their position against the Chalcedonians.76 Some went to Alexandria, the rest to a variety of places. Paul of Callinicum went to Edessa, where he translated many of the writings of Severus into Syriac. These included the Cathedral Homilies, the correspondence between Severus and Julian of Halicarnassus, and 73 The Syriac Chronicle known as that of Zachariah of Mitylene, trans. F.J. Hamilton and E.W. Brooks (London, 1899), pp. 1–3 74 J. Lebon, ‘Le pseudo-Denys l’Ar´eopagite et S´ev`ere d’Antioche’: 906 75 PO II, pp. 5–115 76 A. Baumstark, Geschichte der Syrischen Literatur (Bonn, 1922), pp. 159–60

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that between Severus and Sergius the Grammarian, and Severus and John the Grammarian.77 After the completion of his translation of the Julian correspondence in 528AD we hear no more of him. He does not appear in any of the lists of bishops present at the Council of Tyre, or the meetings with Justinian in 527 or 532AD.

4.2.6

Sergius of Reshaina (d.536AD)

Sergius’ ability to be on good terms with all sorts of people whose religious views were quite different from his own has led to some uncertainty about his true allegiance. If one takes a charitable view of his activities, he was sufficiently moderate and conciliatory to be entrusted by Ephraim of Antioch with a mission to Pope Agapetus in Rome in 536AD, a time when the Monophysite bishops were being persecuted.78 A less charitable view would be that he knew where his best advantage lay, and was prepared to exploit it in the interests of his own personal success. When Ephrem of Antioch offered him money to betray the Monophysites by turning Agapetus against them, Sergius was only too willing to accept.79 This has led to an assumption that he was a Chalcedonian. He is also said to have been on good terms with the Nestorians.80 His close friend and pupil Theodore, to whom he dedicated several treatises, was a Nestorian priest, later bishop of Merv.81 Abd-Ishoˆ includes Sergius in his list of Nestorian writers.82 He is also described as a Nestorian priest in Georr’s introduction to Sergius’ translation of the Categories of Aristotle.83 Although nominally a Monophysite, Sergius’ real sympathies seem to have lain with the Origenists.84 A physician by profession, Sergius was educated in Alexandria.85 In his introduction to his Syriac translation of the Dionysian corpus, Sergius describes himself as a priest at Reshaina.86 In spite of his vast 77

P. Allen and C.T.R. Hayward, Severus of Antioch (London, 2004), pp. 31, 49 J. Stiglmayr, ‘Das Aufkommen der Pseudo-Dionysischen Schriften’, IV Jahresbericht ¨ des Offentlichen Privatgymnasiums an der Stella Matutina zu Feldkirch, 1894–5 (Feldkirch, 1895): 55–6 79 A. Guillaumont, Les ‘Kephalaia Gnostica’, pp. 222–4 80 A. Guillaumont, Les ‘Kephalaia Gnostica’, pp. 167–9 81 R. Duval, La Litt´erature Syriaque, pp. 246–9, 363–4 82 W. Wright, A Short History of Syriac Literature, p. 90 83 K. Georr, Les Cat´egories d’Aristote dans leurs versions Syro-Arabes (Beyrouth, 1948), p. 17 84 A. Guillaumont, Les ‘Kephalaia Gnostica’, pp. 222–6 85 Zacharias Rhetor, Historia Ecclesiastica IX.19, CSCO III.6, p. 93 86 Sergius of Reshaina, On the Spiritual Life, P. Sherwood, ed., Mimro de Serge de Resayna 78

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output, it is strange that this seems to have been his only translation of a Christian text.87 He had the willing and conscientious assistance of ‘our brother Mar Stephen’, who was probably a monk, and was most likely his scribe.88 It is stretching things too far to identify this Stephen with Sergius’ brother. Sergius means that Stephen is a colleague, rather than a relative: And our brother Mar Stephen, who wholeheartedly and with every good will has been a generous assistant in the translation of the book, may Christ, king of the worlds, make him worthy of the splendour of his glory, uniting him with himself in the new life, where he may dwell in peace for all eternity.89 Sergius’ prayer is not addressed to Christ; it is a prayer to the Father that Christ may bless Stephen. Avoidance of praying to Christ being an Origenist trait, this prayer seems to be that of one Origenist praying for another. That Sergius should have chosen an Origenist monk to help him to translate Ps-Dionysius may indicate that he was aware that the author of the Dionysian corpus was involved with Origenism in some way. An identification of ‘Stephen’ with the scribe Bar Sudhaili has been suggested.90 Sergius was certainly very experienced in translating difficult Greek texts into Syriac (Hausherr attributes the S2 Syriac translation of Evagrius’ Kephalaia Gnostica to him),91 so he was a fairly obvious person for the task. Considering the translations which have been attributed to him (Galen and other medical literature, many philosophical works, which include logic and various works by Aristotle)92 and his authorship of treatises on such diverse subjects as the influence of the moon, the Categories, logic and, not least, a treatise on ‘affirmation and negation’, he does not seem to have been a man who would need help with such work; which makes one wonder why he needed assistance with the Dionysian corpus (apart from a scribe). I suspect that he wished to give the impression that Dionysius’ thought was so deep and complex that he needed some help in understanding the thought of the writer; the man whom he chose to help him (if such a person existed at all) would preferably share the author’s beliefs. sur la Vie Spirituelle, L’Orient Syrien 5 (1960): 439 and 6 (1961): 153 87 S. Brock, Syriac Perspectives on Late Antiquity (London, 1984), pp. 17–34 88 Sergius of Reshaina, On the Spiritual Life, L’Orient Syrien 6 (1961): 150–53 89 Sergius of Reshaina, On the Spiritual Life CXXIII, L’Orient Syrien 6 (1961): 150–53; my translation 90 A. Guillaumont, Les ‘Kephalaia Gnostica’, p. 327 91 I. Hausherr, ‘Doutes au sujet du divin Denys’, Orientalia Christiana Periodica 2 (1936): 488–9); A. Guillaumont, Les ‘Kephalaia Gnostica’, p. 226 92 R. Duval, La Litt´erature Syriaque, pp. 246–9

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Sergius was no mean theologian himself, judging from a letter which Severus wrote to him during his exile:93 Of the Holy Severus from the Letter to Sergius the Physician and Sophist: But with regard to the reception of Eutyches that it was done in a canonical way, and that it casts no slur on the holy Dioscurus, and on the synod which assembled with him at Ephesus, I addressed the arguments on this head to certain persons some time ago, and I also dealt completely with it as the truth demands, and I have thought it good and urgent to send a copy of these things to your learning. Not only the wretched man from Scythopolis, but many others besides before him and after him, employed the same blasphemous absurdities, not knowing what they are saying, but made empty-mindedness fullness of blasphemy against God. The holy synod which assembled at Ephesus with the saintly witness of the truth Dioscurus taught nothing new whatever with regard to the faith, but only effected the deprivation of those who were infected with the Jewish poison of Nestorius and cast them off: but Eutyches, who presented a petition and anathematised his heresy, on account of which he was accused, it accepted on the ground of the actual petition itself and on the ground of the minutes that were written at Constantinople before Flavian, since it did not recognise the poison that was in his heart, and the disease hard to be discovered was in accordance with the human standard properly hidden from it; for the divine Scripture plainly teaches that ‘man looks on the face, but God looks on the heart’. But what will anyone say about those who assembled at Chalcedon, who received Theodoret and Hiba, who not merely hid the foul heresy of Nestorius in the heart, but actually displayed it with open face. When the contents of the minutes on account of which Hiba’s deprivation took place had been read, and his letter to Mari the Persian, which was full of many blasphemies (a copy of which I have also sent to you), the representatives of Leo, who had become prelate of the Church of the Romans, pronounced him blameless, making the following declaration: ‘Pascasinus and Lucentius the reverend bishops and Boniface the presbyter representing 93

PO XII.31 (Paris, 1919), pp. 264–6

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the apostolic throne said by the mouth of Pascasinus, “From the reading of the documents, and from the statement of the reverend bishops, we recognised that it is orthodox; and therefore our decision is that the episcopal rank also and the church from which he was wrongfully ejected in his absence be restored”.’ And to these things the whole synod assented; and they promulgated the same decision. How then can those who defend those men dare to make the reception of Eutyches, which took place according to the canons, a charge against the holy Dioscurus and the synod which assembled with him? Now this was the subject matter of the first two days’ discussion at the Collatio in 532AD. We know that the Severan bishops had a few clergy and monks accompanying them, but their names have not been recorded. It is possible, given his considerable learning, that Sergius would have been an extremely valuable person to have had in attendance. It is only speculation, of course, but he was clearly deeply involved with the theological issues which were of utmost importance to the Monophysite party, and that Severus greatly valued him. That Severus felt it an urgent matter to send such details to him suggests that Sergius attended some such occasion on Severus’ behalf. The manuscript of John Bar Aphthonia’s account of the proceedings contains copies of a number of letters from Severus, relating to the matters in hand. Since many folios have been lost, the letter to Sergius may belong here.94 There therefore seems no reason for Sergius to imply that he could not understand Dionysius, unless he was anxious not to be suspected of being the author himself. Where matters of heresy were concerned, it would obviously be wiser to be known as a translator, rather than the author, of a work of doubtful orthodoxy. The extremely short space of time between the appearance of the Dionysian writings and the Syriac translation does tempt one to identify the author and the translator. This is not at all impossible; Sergius is certainly well qualified in other respects. He had studied the allegorical method of interpreting scripture in Alexandria; John the Egyptian, alias John of Apamaea, teacher of Stephen Bar Sudhaili, had also studied medicine and philosophy in Alexandria.95 Without knowing Sergius’ date of birth, it is not feasible to speculate on any connection between them, but 94

S. Brock, ‘The Conversations with the Syrian Orthodox under Justinian’, Orientalia Christiana Periodica 47 (1981): 88–106 95 A. Guillaumont, Les ‘Kephalaia Gnostica’, p. 317. See my reference to him in Chapter 1 of this work

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it is an interesting thought: Sergius and John may have been acquainted. Sergius had an extensive knowledge of Greek literature, he was influenced by Evagrius, he was a confidante of Severus, he had translated many Greek philosophical works and, most significantly of all, he had himself written a treatise on Affirming and Denying.96 In short, he had exactly the right background. The literary style of his philosophical works has been said to resemble that of Ps-Dionysius. His treatise on the spiritual life97 certainly shows unmistakable parallels with it: a) Negative Theology Section 80 the end of all knowledge . . . is not a knowing, but rather an unknowing higher than knowing, because it leads to that hidden essence which is only known by unknowing. (cf. MT1.3, 1001A; Ep. 1) Section 81 But the secret and hidden sight of the intellect, which stretches towards the inaccessible splendour of the Essence as far as is possible for it . . . one calls only ‘divine contemplation’ (cf. DN4.11, 708D; DN 13.3, 981B; MT 1.1, 997B). Section 79 There is yet another [kind of knowing] which soars, as far as is permitted to it, towards the sublime splendour of the hidden divinity. (cf. MT 1.1, 997A–B) b) Christology Section 82 [the knowledge of Jesus] is hidden while being manifest; and although known it remains secret; and although announced to all people as weak and human, it is more peaceful than all, and cannot be understood by created natures in any way. (cf. DN 2.9, 648A; DN 11.5, 953A; EH 3.III.12–13, 444A–C; Ep. 3) Section 85 All these miracles reveal clearly the hidden and inaccessible Essence. (cf. CH 1.2, 121A–B; Ep. 4) 96

R. Duval, La Litt´erature Syriaque, pp. 246–9 P. Sherwood, ed., Mimro de Serge de Resayna sur la Vie Spirituelle, L’Orient Syrien 5 (1960): 433–57; 6 (1961): 96–115, 122–56 97

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It cannot be claimed that Sergius was basing his style on that of Ps-Dionysius, as this treatise was written before the Dionysian corpus saw the light of day.98 Sergius’ thinking will be examined further in Chapter 6. Sergius of Reshaina appears to have been greatly disapproved of in some quarters: he was said to have a bad reputation for immorality and greed. Ps-Zacharias described him as being ‘of corrupt morals and a lover of money’.99 The sixth century alchemist who is known only as ‘The Christian Philosopher’ dedicated a treatise to Sergius of Reshaina.100 It seems that Sergius may have been a practising alchemist himself – not surprising if he was a doctor – although alchemy was outlawed by Justinian in 529AD. At the end of his life, just before the ill-fated mission to Pope Agapetus, from which he never returned, he went to visit Ephraim, Patriarch of Antioch, to complain about his bishop, Asylus of Reshaina.101 The men from Reshaina appear to have been enemies, presumably on Christological grounds,102 for Asylus was one of the interrogators of John of Tella after his capture.103

4.3

Issues of Authority and Leadership

In the year 521AD the expulsion of Monophysite bishops began to become widespread, and that of other clergy and monks was initiated. A few bishops, such as Severus, Paul of Callinicum, Peter of Reshaina and Mara of Amida, had already been removed from their sees. The repression seems to have been enforced somewhat patchily. Even after 521AD some bishops were allowed to remain in office during their lifetime, but were replaced by Chalcedonians on their death. Paul the Jew was particularly vicious; during his time at Antioch he put to death many monks who would not conform to his dictates. Everywhere monks were driven out into the desert in large numbers. By 527AD over 55 Monophysite bishops had been ejected from their sees, and by 529AD four out of the five patriarchs were Chalcedonian, the one exception being Timothy of Alexandria.104 The result of all this was that, as more 98

P. Sherwood, ‘Sergius of Reshaina and the Syriac versions of the Pseudo-Denis’, Sacris Erudiri 4 (1952): 175–80 99 DS 14.652; Zacharias Rhetor, Historia Ecclesiastica IX.19, CSCO III.6 100 M.P.E. Berthelot, Collection des Anciens Alchimistes Grecs (London, 1963 – reprint of 1888 edn), pp. 378–9, 386–7; M. Berthelot, Les Origines de L’Alchimie (Paris, 1885), p. 205 101 Zacharias, Historia Ecclesiastica IX.19 102 E. Honigmann, Ev`eques et Evˆeches, p. 149 103 Vita Johannis Episcopi Tellae, auctore Elia, p. 48 104 W.H.C. Frend, Rise of the Monophysite Movement, p. 247

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and more bishops were removed from their sees, there remained fewer and fewer places where Monophysite bishops could be consecrated. By the end of Justin’s reign there were only three such places left: Mardin in north-east Syria, Alexandria and Persia, which was also beyond the Emperor’s jurisdiction. These consequently became centres of authority for the persecuted Monophysites. The exiled bands of monks posed a further problem. Syrian and Palestinian monks had always had a reputation for being unruly; they were ‘men whom no power could keep in order. They recognised no law but their own interpretation of religion, and no authority save the bishop whom they favoured, and whom they obeyed for just as long as he agreed with them.’105 Those who had been driven out into the desert regrouped into communities, with priests and deacons as available. This was clearly an unsatisfactory situation, both where discipline was concerned and also for the administration of the Liturgy. More bishops, priests and deacons were needed urgently. Severus was concerned that some monasteries were without the necessary clergy, and gave his permission for further ordinations to proceed.106 This was not without its problems; there was the question of the candidates’ standard of education, for example. However urgent the situation, it was necessary to exercise discrimination. A few unscrupulous men were found to be taking advantage of the shortage of bishops to make money by ordaining priests themselves, even though they were not entitled to do this.107 Then there was the question of doctrine, in which respect the Monophysite party was very diverse. The bishops in exile had had time to speculate on Christological issues, and monks had always had plenty of time to work out their own theological position. The Origenists among them in particular believed in encouraging a spirit of free enquiry, an attitude which made the Origenist position attractive to the more educated and intellectual monks. Some of the latter also rejected the need for physical acts of asceticism, which did not endear them to Cyril of Scythopolis,108 who blamed such freethinkers for providing a breeding ground for Origenism.109 Not surprisingly, there was a certain amount of 105

W.A. Wigram, The Separation of the Monophysites (London, 1923), pp. 67–8 Select Letters of Severus II, p. 357 107 Select Letters of Severus I, p. 208 108 Cyril of Scythopolis, Life of Kyriakos XIII, Les Moines d’Orient III/3, trans. A.J. Festugi`ere (Paris, 1963), p. 47; J. Binns, Ascetics and Ambassadors of Christ (Oxford, 1996), p. 212 109 Cyril of Scythopolis, Life of St Sabas 83, Les Moines d’Orient III/2 (Paris, 1962), pp. 118–19 106

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friction among the monks. Monophysites in general rejected Origenism because they associated it with Dithelism or even Nestorianism, although there were a few (notably Sergius of Reshaina and Stephen Bar Sudhaili) who had a foot in both camps. A group of Origenist monks (Nonnus, Theodore Ascidas, Domitian and Leontius of Byzantium110 ) who had been expelled from the New Lavra in 514AD, settled at the Monophysite centre in the Eleutheropolis/Ascalon area,111 and there were undoubtedly others. Perhaps we can see here the beginnings of an Origenist subgroup within the Monophysite party. The experience of the Origenist Monophysite monk Stephen Bar Sudhaili is a good illustration of the tension between authority and freedom of belief. Originally from Edessa, he had been influenced in his youth by a certain John the Egyptian, whose gnostic ideas he blended with an extreme form of Evagrian Origenism, to produce an original system of his own, which he tried to persuade others to adopt. At some time during 512–16AD, meeting with opposition from the bishops in Syria, he fled to Palestine, where Origenist doctrines were more readily tolerated than in Syria.112 Philoxenus of Mabbugh and Jacob of Serugh, having become alarmed at his success in spreading his doctrine, wrote to clergy in Edessa and Jerusalem to warn them about him. He may have settled at the New Lavra, for his arrival in the Jerusalem area more or less coincided with the troubles there. Stephen claimed that his knowledge of divine realities came from direct mystical experience, from which alone comes correct understanding of the scriptures. Philoxenus was horrified at Stephen’s self-confident rejection of authority and traditional teachings.113 He had ‘constructed a new doctrine full of wickedness and impiety’.114 Judging by The Book of the Holy Hierotheos, it is difficult to find anything wicked or impious in Bar Sudhaili’s teaching, unless one defines difference of opinion as wicked in itself. Philoxenus was suspicious; a direct revelation from God was a 110

His adherence to the Origenist position has been questioned by B. Daley (‘The Origenism of Leontius of Byzantium’, JTS ns 27, part 2 (1976): 333–69) who concedes that Leontius did go as far as to support the right of Origenists and others to free intellectual inquiry and speculation, even if his own beliefs were not, strictly speaking, Origenist 111 J. Binns, Ascetics and Ambassadors of Christ, p. 175; J. Patrich, Sabas, Leader of Palestinian Monasticism (Washington, DC, 1995), pp. 332–4 112 A. Guillaumont, Les ‘Kephalaia Gnostica’, pp. 196–9 113 A. Guillaumont, Les ‘Kephalaia Gnostica’, pp. 310–11 114 Letter of Mar Xenaias of Mabugh to Abraham and Orestes, presbyters of Edessa, in A.L. Frothingham, Stephen Bar Sudaili the Syrian Mystic and the Book of Hierotheos (Leiden, 1886), pp. 28–48

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free gift only granted to those who were particularly favoured.115 Should they not be restricted to those who were doctrinally sound? Unfortunately, monks expected to see visions. They had done so throughout the history of monasticism. Peter the Iberian and John the Eunuch both saw visions, as did many others of repute.116 Hekhaloth teachings are based on the mystical ascent. Angels and the hymns of the angels are often of great importance, a feature which they share with the Sinai ascent haggadoth.117 Halperin suggests that the latter were models for the hekhaloth journeys.118 As in the Jewish mystical tradition,119 Dionysius links the ascent of Sinai with the mystical ascent of the individual, but he uses it in a different way: to dismiss Bar Sudhaili’s appeal to the authority of his own visions. The influence of the Hekhaloth literature on Bar Sudhaili’s writing can be seen in the ascent of the Mind in The Book of the Holy Hierotheos, which takes place by means of progress through a series of mansions, or hekhaloth: God . . . has made the light of each of the Mansions far more glorious and excellent than that of the last; so that when the Mind arrives at any one of the Mansions, the glorious vision of radiant beauty, flashing from the Mansion that is before it, excites in it a kind of burning desire; and it may no longer be persuaded to remain at its distance, but labours mightily with great eagerness to stretch out to it and to be with it.120 Progress is assisted by means of angels at every level of the hierarchy; ‘to some it was given to be the help of those who are helped; and to others to be guides and conductors who conduct highly and gloriously help all ascending Minds as far as the next Essence that is above them’, to whom in turn the Mind becomes first equal and then superior, before its ascent to the Mansion above: And when the Mind has reached that Mansion also, it will see a clear and dazzling splendour and light pure and divine; and it wonders very greatly at the glorious radiance of the 115

R. Chesnut, Three Monophysite Christologies, p. 111 R. Roques, ‘Pierre l’Iberien et le Corpus Dionysien’, Revue de l’Histoire des Religions 145 (1954): 69–70, 84–9, 90–96; R. Raabe, Petrus der Iberer (Leipzig, 1895), p. 44; John Rufus, Bishop of Maiuma, Plerophories XXXVII, PO 8.1, p. 86 117 ¨ D.J. Halperin, The Faces of the Chariot (Tubingen, 1988), pp. 361–2, 415 118 D.J. Halperin, The Faces of the Chariot, pp. 385–7 119 D.J. Halperin, The Faces of the Chariot, pp. 447–8 120 HH ii.18, p. 42 116

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second Mansion . . . And a second time there meet it the angels that sanctify in that place, and they too pour upon it of the wonderful splendours of their goodness; and doubtless also a certain adoration is offered to it by them, and there also it receives the same glorious Eucharist; for it yields itself willingly to them and receives from them the ‘contemplation’ of mysteries through that spiritual Bread whose rank is exalted and whose fame is glorious . . . and it bids them farewell in love, with a kiss, and now is divinely drawn on and highly uplifted to cleave in a wonderful way to that Good for which it is longing.121 The purpose of the angelic hierarchy is to aid the Mind in the ascent. Dionysius might well be scandalized; we may not deal directly with the angels, but must go through the earthly hierarchy of the Church. Origen, of course, also describes the ascent of the soul through the Mansions to God, but for him it is Christ, not the angels, who leads the soul upwards.122 On the other hand, ascent cannot take place without moral effort and the exercise of one’s free will.123 So where did the real authority lie? If the Monophysite churches were to survive as a coherent unity, which seemed to be the only means of survival, how were the monks to be persuaded to accept the authority of the bishops? Since Severus relied on his monks as a spiritual fighting force, they needed to be harnessed, not alienated. At the beginning of Justinian’s reign, Severus was committed to the principle of a Monophysite hierarchy. But the ordinations which he authorized were to serve specific local needs only, not to spearhead a complete breakaway church. For Severus was committed to the principle that a one-nature Christology was inseparable from religious and political unity, and therefore he could not agree to separation and schism.124 Finally he was forced to give in, in the face of considerable pressure from John of Tella. An enormous number of men flocked to John for ordination, sometimes a hundred or more per day, the total being said to be in the region of 170,000 by 530AD. They were all expected to provide evidence of literacy and were examined on their reading ability of the scriptures.125 121

HH ii.18, pp. 41–2 In. Num. Hom. 27.2: 7.258.27–259.8B 123 A. Scott, Origen and the Life of the Stars (Oxford, 1991), pp. 158–63 124 W.H.C. Frend, Rise of the Monophysite Movement, p. 283 125 John of Ephesus, Life of John of Thella, Lives of the Eastern Saints IV, ed. E.W. Brooks, PO 18, pp. 518–19 122

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Thus was a priesthood established, but there were still few bishops until John of Tella took the final step of ordaining them.126

4.4

The Need for Secrecy

The identity of the author of the Dionysian corpus has remained a secret for nearly 1500 years. Why was he so determined to remain anonymous? Deliberate withholding of the name of an author, either to avoid persecution or to enhance the prestige of one’s teachings by ascribing them to a great name from the past, was practised by Gnostics, Hermeticists and alchemists, as well as the authors of Jewish apocryphal works. Ps-Dionysius may have had both of these considerations in mind. Apart from this, there is the secrecy employed to restrict access to information or rituals. A distinction should be drawn between, on the one hand, allowing sacramental acts to be witnessed by those who are not yet initiated, and on the other, sharing of revelation, gnosis or insight with those for whom it is not intended. An example of the former is the Disciplina Arcani: the custom of restricting detailed information about the sacraments (such as the words of prayers) to those who were appropriately initiated.127 All the references to secrecy in the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy appear to be of this type. Holy things are to be kept undefiled (Šqrantoc) 128 by contact with those who are uninitiated – ‚telèstoic or ‚teleioumènoic.129 The practice died out during the fifth century when infant baptism became normal practice. Dionysius refers to infant baptism in EH 7.III.11, 565D–568C. He sees no problem with this; certainly he shows no fear that the mysteries which he takes such pains to guard might be betrayed by childish chatter. So it seems unlikely that he is referring to the Disciplina Arcani as such in the rest of the corpus. It is possible that Dionysius was unaware that the Disciplina Arcani was not observed until the fourth century130 and wrote it in for greater authenticity, but this seems unlikely. His preoccupation with secrecy goes beyond the sight of the sacred symbols and the words of the prayers. God, after all, can defend himself against the rash and impious, as Demophilus is warned in Letter 126 W.H.C. Frend, ‘Severus of Antioch and the Origins of the Monophysite Hierarchy’, Orientalia Christiana Analecta 195 (1973): 274 127 The Study of Liturgy, ed. C.P.M. Jones, G. Wainwright and E.J. Yarnold (London, 1978), pp. 109–10 128 EH 1.1,372A; EH 4.III.2, 476C 129 EH 1.1,372A; EH 1.5, 377A–B 130 The Study of Liturgy, ed. Jones et al., pp. 109–10

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8, 1089C. If God can inflict leprosy or death on those who fail to keep their distance and show proper respect, there should be no need for Dionysius to become over-concerned on his behalf. There is a difference between Dionysius and the writers of 2 Chronicles and Numbers. For the Old Testament writers, the danger was to people who came too close to holy things, whereas for Dionysius it was the holy things themselves that were in need of protection. In Letter 8 he explains why it is necessary to have symbolic representations of God, ‘in order that the most sacred things are not easily handled by the profane’ (beb loic is more accurately ‘uninitiated’), but are revealed instead to the real lovers of holiness.131 Why should he need to do this? What is he afraid of? Of course, he is partly reflecting the doctrine that a symbol is not merely a symbol, but also has present in it that which is symbolized. But this is not the whole explanation. Dionysius’ attitude to keeping divine wisdom secret is most revealing. He talks of the scorn poured by pagans on Christian practices132 and faith.133 Yet this has always been true. What is puzzling is that, at the time he wrote, it was the pagans who were under attack from Christians, and not vice versa. Speaking of the names of God, ‘As the divine tradition so commands us, let the holy be there only for the holy, and let such things be kept away from the mockery and the laughter of the uninitiated [‚mÔstwn]. Or rather, let us try to rescue such men and turn them from their hostility to God’ (t¨c âpÈ toÔtú jeomaqÐac ‚polutroÔmenoi is better rendered as ‘set them free from this fighting against God’).134 This suggests an ongoing struggle against people who simply will not accept the truth, rather than those who are satisfied with their own religion and therefore simply amused at the apparent silliness of someone else’s faith. The (Greek) language suggests demonic possession, not brought out by Luibheid’s translation. His opponents are in bondage. The warning against allowing details of the mystical ascent to be known by the uninitiated is found in Plato’s Theaetetus 155e. It is from this source, or one like it, that Dionysius has drawn his inspiration, rather than from Christian tradition, since the words used, ‚mu toc and ‚mÔstoc, are from the vocabulary of the mystery religions. He uses the ‘pearls before swine’ quotation from Matthew 7.6 only once, and even then he does not quote the Greek New Testament: 131

Ep. 9,1105C EH 7, 557A and 565D 133 Ep. 9, 1104B 134 DN 1.8, 597C 132

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist

M˜ dÀte tä ‰gion toØc kusÈn mhdà bˆlhte toÌc margarÐtac ÍmÀn êmprosjen tÀn qoÐrwn, m pote katapat sousin aÎtoÌc ân toØc posÈn aÎtÀn kaÈ strafèntec û xwsin Ímc . The word he uses for ‘pig’ is not the usual word, qoØroc, as used in the New Testament, but Ýc: ‘eÊc Õac ‚porrÐyai t˜n tÀn nohtÀn margaritÀn ‚mig¨ kaÈ fwtoeid¨ kaÈ kallopoiän eÎkosmÐan .’ His choice of this word is an 135

indication of the nature of those from whom he is trying to protect the precious secrets which have been handed down to him. These beasts might well be the clergy of another church group. When he warns Demophilus that his intolerant attitude might lead to them having to part company, he tells him that it may be ‘time for you to look for another God and for other priests, among whom you will not be perfected. Instead you will become a wild beast, the harsh minister of an inhumanity agreeable to yourself.’136 There are further hints at threats of a more serious nature than derision and defilement: The man in union with truth knows clearly that all is well with him, even if everyone else thinks that he has gone out of his mind. What they fail to see, naturally, is that he has gone out of the path of error and has in his real faith arrived at truth. He knows that far from being mad, as they imagine him to be, he has been rescued from the instability and the constant changes which bore him along the variety of error and that he has been set free by simple and immutable stable truth. That is why the principal leaders of our divine wisdom die each day for the truth.137 This is a threat from inside the Church; the charge is one of heresy. Letter 7 purports to be to a fellow bishop. Although it has been suggested that Letters 6–8 and 10 do not belong with the rest of the corpus, it is not clear whether they are by the same author (albeit part of a different work), or inserted by another to ‘prove’ subapostolic status.138 One would 135

CH 2.5, 145C Ep. 8.4, 1093C–D: ‘wild beast’ is not in the Greek; τῆς φίλης ἀπανθρωπίας ἀμείλικτον ὑπερέτην is better translated as ‘the harsh drudge of the inhumanity which is dear to you’. 137 DN 7.4, 873A 138 B. Brons, ‘Sekund¨are Textparteien im Corpus Pseudo-Dionysiacum? Literarkritische Beobachtungen zu ausgew¨ahlten Textstellen’, Nachrichten der Akademie der Wissenschaften ´ zu G¨ottingen: Philologische-Historische Klasse (1975): 1199–39; M.Nasta, ‘Quatre Etats de la Textualit´e dans L’histoire du Corpus Dionysienne’, in Denys L’Areopagite et sa Post´erit´e en Orient et en Occident (Paris, 1997), pp. 31–65 136

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expect him to be able to talk openly, yet he closes with a hint that he dare not reveal any more in writing: ‘Let this much be what we discuss in a letter. You are well able to fill out anything that is missing.’139 Not only is the threat within the Church, but Dionysius seems unsure who is on his side and who is an enemy. Letter 10 contains clear references to persecution resulting in exile, when ‘unjust men drive the disciples out of the cities.’140 This is surely a reference to the expulsion of the Monophysite bishops from 521AD onwards. Dionysius predicts that he too will suffer banishment, but that the persecution will end one day and their church will be allowed to continue to grow. This would date the Dionysian corpus to the 520s. Monophysites were not the only group persecuted by the orthodox in Syria. Others to be harassed were the Origenists; Stephen Bar Sudhaili was forced to flee from Edessa to Palestine in about 510–12AD because of his beliefs.141 He must have left disciples behind in Edessa, for he continued to spread his teachings there. These disciples would have had to observe great caution if they were to avoid similar persecution. The Dionysian corpus may be a rare witness to the feelings of a member of some such group, forced to keep their identity hidden to prevent a charge of heresy.

4.5

Ascetics and Mystics

Syrian monasticism is distinguished from that of Greece, Egypt or Palestine by the extremity of the asceticism practised by many Syrian monks. Half-naked men in rags with hair down to their knees, wearing iron chains or standing on top of columns like the Stylite saints, were all features of the Syrian landscape.142 As we saw earlier in this chapter, John of Tella was one such character, typical of the Syrian ascetic of the time.143 Mortification was seen as being central to asceticism. The ideal was to become like an angel while still in this body. The transformation from man to angel is effected by suffering:144 It is by means of fasting and abstinence that we will rise to . . . the contemplation of the grandeur of the glory of God. It is by 139

Ep. 7, 1081C Ep. 10, 1117A 141 A. Guillaumont, Les ‘Kephalaia Gnostica’, pp. 304–5 142 ¨ A. Vo¨ obus, A History of Asceticism in the Syrian Orient II, CSCO 197: subsidia 17 (Louvain, 1960) has all the gruesome details on pp. 22–33, 257–300 143 John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints IV, ed. E.W. Brooks, PO 18, p. 521 144 ¨ St Ephrem, Hymni et Sermones IV.217 in A. Vo¨ obus, A History of Asceticism, p. 306 140

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist abstaining from food that we come to resemble angels: angels are completely exempt from eating; by our will we refuse to nourish the desire and diminish the needs of the body a little; that is how we show that we have the desire to be like spiritual beings.145

Purification from sin, the passions and the needs of the body enables the sight of divine mysteries: ‘Let us purify ourselves from sin and we will deserve to see invisible realities.’146 ‘When the soul has deserved to raise herself above the corporeal and contemplate the invisible, she has thereby become worthy of divine intimacy . . . ’.147 Philoxenus of Mabbugh has given a magnificent account of a mystical experience in this setting. It is worth quoting in full: And you enter into the mysteries of the Spirit; you participate in the fullness of the knowledge of Christ; you are transformed at every moment by living impulses; you are ravished by the contemplation of the ineffable majesty of God. For you have left behind the whole of the visible world and your dwelling is in the spiritual world. Those who see you see only your body, whilst your hidden man is in the heaven of heavens; you delight in places which are without limit or number, where there is no physical appearance nor material composition, where there is no transformation of natures nor changing of elements, where there is only tranquility and repose, where all the inhabitants of the place, the spiritual beings, with voices which are non-material, cry the Trisagion to the adorable Essence, where you taste something which is not tasted by the palate of the body and you sense something which is not perceived by the bodily senses. You only know that everything is pleasant, but you cannot explain how. Instead of the conversation which you had with men, you are conversing spiritually with Jesus Christ, and you endure toils without feeling their hardships because the sense of [the presence of] Christ does not allow you to feel them and because the ravishing of your intellect in the presence of God deprives you of all bodily feelings. You see, you hear, you taste, you smell, and, through all the senses of 145

Philoxenus of Mabbugh, Homily IX, SC 44 (Paris, 1956), pp. 424–5 John of Apamea, Dialogue II, SC 311, p. 61 147 John of Apamea, Dialogue VI, p. 114 146

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your hidden man, you perceive the taste of the world of God; and, in accordance with its nature, your senses taste it spiritually. The divine revelations are handed out to you as to Moses, face to face; visions and marvels receive you into the interior of a Holy of Holies which God, and not man, has built; where the mystery of the glory of God lives in your thoughts; where your occupation is among the spiritual powers, with a spiritual intellect; where the ark of the spiritual signs and divine knowledge is deposited, not symbolically but in reality, because the [spiritual] knowledge comes to meet your knowledge without any intermediary; where it is not a golden altar which is installed and from where a bodily incense ascends, but the altar of the Spirit which receives the pure receptacle of manna which is deposited figuratively, nor the food which was given through the intermediary of angels which was preserved, but there the living table is laid out which is the Christ himself, in order that all its spiritual members should receive from him, like members of the body, spiritual nourishment; where it is not the staff which was the sign of the election of Aaron which is preserved in memory, but where the high priest himself, Jesus Christ, consecrates before his Father living and rational substances; where you have gone away completely from the feeling of what can be seen, and you understand nothing of what is said and sensed materially, because all the members of the former man are dead in you and you have reclothed the new man who has been renewed by knowledge in the likeness of his Creator.148 To have such an experience was both the purpose of the ascetic life and the reward for it.149 For the Syrian monk, they were inseparable. Now this of itself need not have been a problem. The mediaeval mystics of the Latin Church were, by and large, contained safely within the monastic orders. The Brethren of the Free Spirit were a notable exception. These belonged to no order and took no vows. They considered a mystical experience to be proof of divinization. One of Meister Eckhart’s followers, a woman named Katherine, is typical: ‘Vrewet iuch mit mir, ich bin got werden!’ (‘Rejoice with me, for I have become God!’)150 Such people were convinced that they were above the law (certainly of the Church 148

Philoxenus of Mabbugh, Homily IX, SC 44, pp. 266–7 ¨ A. Vo¨ obus, A History of Asceticism, p. 312 150 W. Riehle, The Middle English Mystics (London, 1981), p. 150 149

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and sometimes even of the law of the land). They had little respect for the clergy and authority of the Church; even the sacraments were little regarded by them.151 The most notable member of this group was Marguerite de Porˆete: ‘Such a soul neither desires nor despises poverty nor tribulation, neither mass nor sermon, neither fast nor prayer, and gives to Nature all that is necessary, without remorse of conscience.’152 ‘Such a soul wills none of the joys of paradise, however many one might place before her to choose, nor does she refuse any torments of hell, even if it would be completely within her will.’153 The Latin Church found them a considerable nuisance, since the freedom of their lifestyle proved an attraction to many who would otherwise have been acquiescent in the Church’s teaching and authority. Marguerite de Porˆete was burnt at the stake in 1310. Because the non-mediated vision of God brings both enlightenment and authority,154 such personal inspiration has been seen as a threat to the established churches, who have done their best to control it.155 The Eastern church did not have the advantages of Pope, monastic orders and Inquisition to assist with discipline. It might be argued, therefore, that the individualism and originality for which Syrian monks were noted156 was potentially as great a threat as the Brethren of the Free Spirit were to become some centuries later in the West. This is particularly likely to be true in the case of the lavra-dwellers, this way of life being considered as the pinnacle of monastic life and its practitioners therefore being held in particularly highly regard. The combination in one person of anchorite, ascetic and visionary gave to the monk in question a charisma which endowed him with a certain authority over simple folk which many of the ordained clergy did not have. Not only did he have access to divine secrets, but he could be seen to be a holy man. The holiness of their lives would have carried far more weight with ordinary Christians than did the often materialistic and worldly behaviour of the clergy. It is no surprise that many people consulted monks about spiritual and other problems, rather than their 151 R.E. Lerner, The Heresy of the Free Spirit in the Later Middle Ages (London, 1972), pp. 57, 138 152 Marguerite Porˆete, The Mirror of Simple Souls, trans. E.L. Babinsky (New York, 1993), Chapter 9, p. 87 153 The Mirror of Simple Souls, Chapter 41, p. 121 154 J.B. Tabor, Things Unutterable (Lanham, Maryland, 1986), p. 3 155 I.M. Lewis, Ecstatic Religion (Harmondsworth, 1971), p. 175 156 ¨ A. Vo¨ obus, A History of Asceticism, pp. 33–5, 315

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own priest or bishop.157 This obviously posed a threat to the Syrian church hierarchy, especially if the monks’ beliefs were at all heterodox. Cyril of Scythopolis equated ascetic achievement with doctrinal purity,158 so presumably simple and theologically unsophisticated laity would assume that asceticism and holiness betokened doctrinal orthodoxy. This was all the more reason for deviant monks to be seen as a threat by the clerical establishment. Origenist monks posed a threat of a slightly different nature. Although they often placed less emphasis on physical acts of asceticism, they were doctrinally problematical. Origenism appealed to the more educated among the monks, since it allowed for a spirit of free enquiry and speculation.159 When this was combined with a mystical streak, as with Stephen Bar Sudhaili, the doctrine was given added authority. In Bar Sudhaili’s case, at any rate, this was emphasised quite deliberately: I am handing on with great boldness . . . the things which I have seen . . . While I was travelling in the way of our divine Ascent, I too encountered . . . that Essence also which is called ‘Universal’ . . . and by it I too was divinely taught and mystically informed what is the secret of distinctions, along with the multitude of other secrets which are revealed to divine Minds by the Universal Essence. And do thou, O my son, remember . . . .160 Now my instruction is ended . . . my son, keep my words and bind them on thy neck . . . .161 Another problem with some Origenist monks is that, like the Brethren of the Free Spirit, they had different views on the importance of the Eucharist than did the Orthodox. Rather than see it literally as the Body and Blood of Christ, they tended to regard it in a spiritual and allegorical way:162 Know, O my son, that this material and bodily bread which is set upon the material altar is a kind of perceptible sign – and . . . a small and unworthy shadow – of that glorious Bread which is above the heavens; and the cup of mixture also that is in our 157 W. Witakowski, The Syriac Chronicle of Pseudo-Dionysius of Tel-Mahre (Uppsala, 1987), ¨ pp. 55–6; A. Vo¨ obus, A History of Asceticism, pp. 125, 325–7; P. Brown, Society and the Holy in Late Antiquity (London, 1982), pp. 280–81 158 J. Binns, Ascetics and Ambassadors for Christ, p. 65 159 A. Guillaumont, Les ‘Kephalaia Gnostica’, pp. 161–2 160 The Book of the Holy Hierotheos, I.3, ed. F.S. Marsh (Farnborough, Hants, 1969), p. 6 161 The Book of the Holy Hierotheos, V.4, p. 141 162 E.A. Clark, The Origenist Controversy (Princeton, New Jersey, 1992), p. 65

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Shenoute, archimandrite of the White Monastery in Egypt, had had trouble with this, seeing it as disrespect of the Sacrament: ‘Those for whom the mysteries are merely a matter of bread and wine are unfortunately not only pagans but – and this is much worse – also some of us. They are worse than dogs and swine.’164 The Syrians used the word margaritha (‘pearl’) to denote the Bread of the Eucharist. The set of canons which John of Tella wrote in 519AD to the church at Tella gives several examples of this usage; numbers 4, 7, 8, 10 and 11 refer to the Host as a ‘pearl’. Although Ps-Dionysius appears to share the Origenist view of the bread and wine as mere symbols,165 his repeated references to the ‘pearls before swine’ theme may well reflect the church hierarchy’s perception of the threat to church authority and unity by the Origenist monks’ attitude to the Eucharist. His opponents also were like dogs and swine in that they denied that the Body and Blood of Christ were any more than ordinary bread and wine. The central issue is that, whether we are considering ascetics and their visions or Origenist intellectuals and their speculations, claims are being made in some quarters that knowledge of God and of divine reality can be obtained by one’s own efforts, whether these be by bodily mortification and/or techniques for attaining visionary and other mystical experiences, or whether they be by the use of an educated mind. Knowledge is power, which is why these two groups may have been regarded as a problem. That Dionysius went to such lengths to combat it suggests that it was a more serious problem than one might imagine. The solution he chose was to demonstrate that God is essentially unknowable, not because of our human weakness (which we can strive to overcome), but because he is absolutely inaccessible to any created being, including the angels.166 Hence it is fruitless to attempt to become like an angel in the hope of being granted a vision of heaven. This is directly contradictory to the teaching of Philoxenus of Mabbugh, for example, for whom suffering was the direct means to a knowledge of God. Sergius of Reshaina saw asceticism as merely the first step on the spiritual path; it is useful for conquering the passions and developing spiritual power, but it will only 163

The Book of the Holy Hierotheos, III.7, p. 80 Exhortation Against the Origenists, quoted in A. Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition II.4, pp. 203–7 165 CH 1.3, 124A; EH 3.9, 437C; J. Meyendorff, Christ in Eastern Christian Thought, p. 106 166 CH 7.3, 209B, C; DN 2.9, 648A 164

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purify the passible part of the soul.167 To proceed further it is necessary to purify the gnostic part by contemplation of the divine: The life of contemplation is superior to, and more sublime than, the effective practice of the commandments, because the practice and observance of the commandments purifies only . . . the passible part of the soul. The knowledge of divine contemplation, on the other hand, purifies the gnostic part. Which is why, just as the intellect is superior to passible strength, so too contemplation, which is the purification of the intellect, is greater than the practice and observance of the commandments, which is the purification of the passible power of the soul.168 It is more likely that this was the thinking behind Dionysius’ apparent under-valuation of asceticism, than that he was actively promoting a hedonistic lifestyle, for he does demand moral perfection.169 He shares with Sergius the Evagrian teaching that ‘the sacred rank of the order of the monks . . . has been purified of all stain and possesses full power and complete holiness in its own activities. To the extent that is permissible, it has entered upon sacred contemplative activity and has achieved intellectual contemplation and communion.’170 But human strength can only ever take man part of the way. The spiritual ascents of such men as the Merkabah mystics and Stephen Bar Sudhaili may be compared to Shamanism in tribal religion such as that of the Siberian Tungus and Haitian Voodoo. The Belgian anthropologist Luc de Heusch sees Shamanism as a ‘movement of pride in which man sees himself as equal to the gods’.171 The Isochrists did just this: all rational beings were potentially equal to Christ: Know therefore, my son, that Christ is now no longer worshipped but those Minds are worshipped which are accounted worthy of Unification; and Christ is no longer their head because Christ is the ‘Head of them that sleep’, but of those that have been awakened Christ is no longer head. Christ, therefore, is nothing else than the Mind that is purified 167

Sergius of Reshaina, On the Spiritual Life, LXXVI Sergius of Reshaina, On the Spiritual Life, LXXVIII 169 EH 6.II, 533B 170 EH 6.I.3, 532C–D 171 I.M. Lewis, Ecstatic Religion, p. 50 168

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist . . . And then the divine Mind which has become Christ is brought near . . . .172 Christ is no longer Christ . . . when the Mind attains to these things, because the Mind is Christ.173

Barsanuphius, who died in 540AD, accused the Origenist monks of pride. They should have been weeping for their sins instead of peering into incomprehensible mysteries.174 Generally speaking, Dionysius does not emphasize sinfulness. He takes it for granted that the desire to embark on the spiritual ascent is a valid one. Only, it must be done by means of the proper channels, which are the sacraments and hierarchy of the Church. As St Antony did before him, he sees a relationship between progress in the ascent and levels of the hierarchy. One’s legitimate place depends on one’s virtue. Ordination is merely a confirmation of God’s choice, a ratification of one’s progress. While the pride of men such as Bar Sudhaili and other Origenist monks is one source of concern to Dionysius, he would surely not have needed to write at this length under an assumed name in order to refute them alone. There was a much greater and more widespread threat, and that was the pride exemplified by any man, whether he be monk, deacon, priest, bishop or even emperor, saying: ‘I know that such and such is true of God. I am right and therefore you are wrong if you do not agree with me.’ Even the angels, with their much greater knowledge of God, do not dare to say this. The higher orders of their hierarchy ‘have all the illuminations and powers of those below them and the subordinates have none of those possessed by their superiors’. 175 Even so, the Seraphim, who have greater knowledge than any other beings, are still humble enough to show an eagerness to learn.176 Considering the prevalence of ascetic practices in Syria at the time of composition of the Dionysian corpus, and the esteem in which these practices, and the mystical or visionary experiences which often accompanied them, were held, it would be a brave man who would openly condemn them. In the next chapter I will discuss whether or not Dionysius was opposed to mysticism in itself. 172

The Book of the Holy Hierotheos III.6, pp. 77–8 The Book of the Holy Hierotheos III.7, p. 80 174 The Questions and Answers of Varsanuphius and John, Letter 60, trans. L. Regnault (Solesmes, 1972), pp. 391–4 175 CH 5, 196B, C 176 CH 7.3, 209B, C 173

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Conclusion

The worst period for the Monophysites was the decade between 521 and 531AD, when they were disorganized, split by opposing factions quarrelling with each other, and becoming increasingly short of leadership as senior clergy were removed by death. The ‘phantasiasts’, as the followers of Julian of Halicarnassus were called, were a particular problem; neither were matters improved by their use of forged proof-texts. This kind of deviousness did not help the Monophysite cause; it merely gave the party a bad name. Besides, believers in the ‘One Nature’ needed to be held together, and not allowed to weaken their joint cause by fighting among themselves. There was also a problem with the monks, who were particularly independent of mind. Many of them, particularly the better educated, resisted any imposition of authority and went their own way regardless of the views of their bishops. Being a potentially effective fighting force, they were badly in need of leadership. The Origenist monk Stephen Bar Sudhaili is an example of the disruption that could be caused. Severus needed an authority to whom he could appeal, which would cover his particular situation, which was similar in many ways to that in which St Paul had found himself. His integrity would not allow him to write a pseudo-apostolic or pseudo-patristic text himself, and therefore he could not have been party to the Dionysian forgery, but he knew of the existence of a group of unscrupulous men who made a business of such work. It must be said, however, that the examples given by Severus all seem to have been on a much smaller scale. The group behind the production of the Dionysian corpus may have included Peter of Reshaina, Sergius of Reshaina, John of Tella, Paul of Callinicum and John Bar Aphthonia. The apparently pre-532AD references to Dionysius in the writings of Severus can all be considered as later insertions, perpetrated for polemical reasons. There are unmistakable parallels to Dionysius in the writings of Sergius of Reshaina and John of Tella. They were both sufficiently scholarly, particularly in the field of Greek philosophy and literature, to have been able to write theological treatises such as those which comprise the Dionysian corpus. John of Tella was probably too busy to have done so. Probably he was also too averse to paganism to pretend to be a pagan himself. He was also much less moderate than Dionysius appears to have been. But he, or one of his followers, might have commissioned such a work. John Bar Aphthonia is particularly suspect. Excluding the Life of Severus, which may or may not have been by him, so little of his work is

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extant that it is difficult to judge his style, but that of the fragments from his Commentary on the Song of Songs177 is quite unlike that of the Dionysian corpus. Both he and Paul of Callinicum had the leisure and the resources to provide background research, as also did Mara of Amida. Sergius of Reshaina is a strong contender for the authorship of the Dionysian corpus. As far back as the eighth century, the Nestorian Syrian writer Joseph Hazzaya noticed a similarity in style between Sergius’ own writings and those of Dionysius. Both Hausherr178 and von Balthasar179 suggested, on stylistic grounds, that Sergius might be the author. It should be clear by now that the existence of parallels between two works cannot be taken as proof of common authorship. But it does seem strange that Dionysius appears to be copying the vocabulary and ideas of several men who wrote round about 520AD: Severus, John of Tella and Sergius of Reshaina. Severus and John of Tella can both be excluded from consideration. Sergius is an obvious suspect, both because his translation of the corpus was produced so soon after the official debut, and also because of the Dionysian ideas that are scattered throughout his own treatise On the Spiritual Life. Another consideration is that Sergius’ own bishop, Peter of Reshaina, was one of the few who were present at Constantinople in discussions with Justinian in 527 and 532AD. The purpose of all the ecclesiastical detail in the Dionysian corpus appears on the face of it to be to record and preserve it for future use in a time of persecution. Under the conditions of John of Tella’s ministry there was far too little time for adequate transmission of the relevant teachings. The Dionysian corpus could have been intended partly as a compendium or manual for the use of bishops and others under conditions of persecution. It is most likely to have been written after 527AD, when it became obvious that Justinian could not be counted on to support the Monophysite bishops. The only three men whom we know were at the first discussion with Justinian in 527AD and were also at the Conference in 532/3AD were John of Tella, Peter of Reshaina and John Bar Aphthonia. I suggest that composition of the Dionysian corpus was begun in 527AD and finished some time between 529 and 532AD. Forged references to Dionysius may have been inserted into the writings of Severus, and in other places, to avoid suspicion being placed on Severus. It needed to be shown that the Dionysian writings pre-dated Severus’ exile 177 ¨ ¨ P. Kruger, ‘Johannes bar Aphtonija und die syrische Ubersetzung seines Kommentars’: 61–71 178 ‘Doutes au sujet der Divin Denys’, Orientalia Christiana Periodica 2 (1936): 489 179 Das Scholienwerk des Johannes von Scythopolis, Scholastik XV, p. 38, quoted in DS III.255 (Paris, 1957)

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and that they therefore had nothing to do with the situation in which the Monophysites found themselves in the late 520s.

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Chapter 5 Summa or Polemic? 5.1

Summa – His Claim

The systematic presentation of the Dionysian corpus suggests that its author intends a planned and comprehensive exposition of some aspect or aspects of Christian doctrine. That is, it appears to be a summa. The key adjectives here are ‘systematic’ and ‘comprehensive’. One must ask whether Dionysius claims this, and if so, whether his claim is justified. A claim for systematicity is found in DN2.4, 640D: I think we must go more deeply into explaining the full manner of speaking about divine unity and differentiation. This is necessary in order to clarify all that I have to say so that, when confusion and obscurity have been removed as far as possible, I may speak, as far as possible, in a distinct, wise and orderly fashion. The hierarchical structure of Dionysius’ universe is an indication of his orderly mind. He leaves enough carefully placed clues to persuade us that he is working to a system: ‘It is time now for this treatise of mine to . . . ’;1 ‘In summary, we can reasonably say that . . . ’;2 ‘This question must now be discussed, and our explication must begin with the question . . . ’.3 The Divine Names treats of a large number of attributes of God such as Good, Light, Beautiful, Love, Being, Life, Wisdom, Word, Truth, Righteousness, Power, Salvation, Omnipotent, Cause, Perfect, One, and some others besides. The implication is that, within the limits which he 1

DN 10.1, 936D CH 7.3, 209C 3 CH 15.2, 328C 2

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has set for himself, he has attempted to cover as many aspects of the subject as possible. Where there are omissions (other than those explained above), it is because ‘I am at a loss when it comes to understanding their transcendent reality . . . a twofold concern of mine, not to overextend my discourse and to honour in respectful silence the hidden things which are beyond me’.4 This is not surprising, given the ambitious nature of the project! Dionysius does not claim that the corpus as it stands is complete on its own. Firstly, the nature of God is such that complete knowledge of it is impossible for one human mind to convey to another in words, since ‘we must not dare to resort to words or conceptions concerning that hidden divinity which transcends being, apart from what the sacred scriptures have revealed’.5 Yet for the majority of Christians, the revelation of God in the scriptures, and in the life of Jesus as portrayed by the scriptures, is sufficient. Dionysius, it seems, wishes to go beyond this, beyond the point at which words (even the words of scripture) fail, in order to reach that which is indescribable, the Ineffable.6 Just as Damascius teaches that the One is not absolutely ineffable, but only relatively ineffable compared to the Ineffable beyond: And perhaps the Ineffable is so completely ineffable that one cannot even establish that it is ineffable. But the One, however, is ineffable inasmuch as it eludes all putting together of words and names in definitions, and all distinctions such as that between knowable and known.7 So Dionysius may be pointing to an aspect of the divine beyond the God who can be described by the scriptures. The Mystical Theology implies as much; God is beyond all perception. This must include the scriptures, since words are a form of perception and, he says, to reach the darkness where God dwells, one must go beyond words.8 Secondly, Dionysius appeals to a further seven treatises which he claims to have written, namely: Theological Representations, The Properties and Ranks of the Angels, The Soul, The Symbolic Theology, Concerning Justice and the Judgement of God, Divine Hymns and The Conceptual and the Perceptible. The order in which these appear is not random. For example, 4

CH 15.9, 340B DN 1.1, 588A 6 Damascius, Trait´e des Premiers Principes I.1.4, trans. J. Comb`es, ed. L.G. Westerink, vol. I, (Paris, 1986), pp. 9–11 7 Damascius, Trait´e des Premiers Principes I.1.4, pp. 10–11; my translation 8 MT 3, 1033C; MT 5, 1084A–B 5

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Theological Representations contains less in the way of images and names of God than does The Symbolic Theology.9 This is because there is an increase in multiplicity as one moves from the simplicity of God to the complexity of matter; the whole set of treatises is a mirror of Neoplatonic procession and return. This degree of structure suggests that a substantial attempt has been made at something like a summa. Dionysius refers to these fictitious works to varying extents in the text. The purpose of their existence is to provide some justification for his failure to be comprehensive. He explains that he had no intention of duplicating himself; the current work is not meant to be complete, but was written as an extension and elaboration of his previous works. Even this collection of eleven treatises (if the Letters are excluded) is not intended to stand alone. Indeed, he only put pen to paper in the first place because his teacher Hierotheus had not set out to write a summa but a ‘condensed summary of our boundaries’,10 which unfortunately turned out to be too indigestible for Dionysius’ audience. The function of the Dionysian treatises is to analyse, expand and explain, with clarification where he recognizes a potential difficulty.11 Working against the argument for a summa is the repetitive and even contradictory nature of the material in some of the treatises, such as Divine Names and Celestial Hierarchy. The overall effect is confusing, as the disputes over Dionysian Christology bear witness, with both Chalcedonians and Monophysites claiming Dionysius for their side. While John of Scythopolis/Maximus was a supporter of Ps-Dionysius’ orthodoxy,12 the Severians quoted Ps-Dionysius at the 532AD Conference in Constantinople in support of their argument for the one nature after the union.13 Roques does his best to prove that Dionysius’ Trinitarianism is orthodox,14 but unconvincingly. The deliberate use by Dionysius of so much pagan material does not fit the image of an orthodox Father which many scholars strive to demonstrate. Agreement has still to be reached even on whether Dionysius was a Christian, or a pagan pretending to be a Christian. His real position is strangely unclear for that of someone writing a summa. With respect to the contradictions: Dionysius makes the very puzzling 9

MT 3, 1033B DN 3.2, 681B 11 CH 5, 196D; DN 11.6, 953B–C 12 Scholia on MT 3, 1033A, PG 4.425–6A; Clavis Patrum Graecorum 6852; J. Pelikan, Maximus Confessor, (Mahwah, New Jersey, 1985), pp. 6–7 13 A. Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition II.2 (London, 1995), p. 237; Zacharias Rhetor, Historia Ecclesiastica IX.15, CSCO III.6, p. 82 14 R. Roques, L’Univers Dionysien (Paris, 1954), p. 305 10

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remark that ‘Existing beings do not know it [the Cause of all] as it actually is and it does not know them as they are.’15 The second half of this sentence is a direct contradiction of the fundamental Christian concept of the omniscience of God, with which he is apparently in agreement elsewhere: The divine Mind . . . takes in all things in a total knowledge which is transcendent. Because it is the cause of all things it has a foreknowledge of everything . . . a single embracing causality which knows and contains all things . . . The universal Cause by knowing itself, can hardly be ignorant of the things which proceed from it and of which it is the source.16 He again contradicts himself when, having expressly denounced the visualization of members of the angelic host,17 he then describes ‘the limitless number of feet, the multitude of faces, those wings blocking out the contemplation of their faces above and their feet below, and the unending beat of the middle set of wings’ as if they were a real sight.18 The sense of confusion is increased by Dionysius’ use of the New Testament, which seems a little shaky in places. For example, the ‘name which is above every name’ used of Jesus by St Paul19 is applied by Dionysius to the supreme Deity.20 All of this may be part of the deception, a device for deceiving his readers into believing that he comes from a non-Christian background. It need not necessarily be an indication of his real beliefs. Some of the confusion may arise because of inappropriate choice of vocabulary or of gleanings from other writers, without due attention being paid to consistency, theological or otherwise. This might arise if he were inexperienced at expressing himself in Greek. He is very well read, as the extremely wide range of citations illustrates, but he might have been more experienced at writing in Syriac than in Greek if, for example, he spent much of his time translating from Greek into Syriac. Altogether there is a strange lack of coherence for someone who clearly has a background of sorts in Athenian philosophy. Several explanations suggest themselves. Firstly, that the corpus was written in a hurry by more 15

MT 5, 1048A DN 7.2, 869A–C 17 ‘We cannot, as mad people do, profanely visualise these heavenly and godlike intelligences as actually having numerous feet and faces.’ (CH 2.1, 137A) 18 CH 13.4, 305A 19 Philippians 2.9 20 DN 1.6, 596A 16

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then one person and inadequately edited; secondly, that the author was attempting to write a summa, but was out of his depth, and thirdly, that he was not writing a summa at all, but a set of polemical treatises, carefully worked to prevent his identity from being detected by his fellow clergy. The degree of persecution against the Monophysites during the period 520–532AD makes the first explanation possible. However, as we shall see, the structure of the corpus is too carefully worked out for it to have been composed in such a piecemeal manner. There are no obvious joins, and the vocabulary, style and thought are consistent. The intricacy of construction and breadth of scholarship make the second possibility unlikely. The third possibility is the one which I shall now pursue.

5.2

Polemic – an Alternative Suggestion

Although the Dionysian corpus is laid out as if it were a systematic philosophical exposition of dogma, there is far too much apparently unnecessary repetition. Letters 1–5 repeat material found elsewhere. Chapters 2–3 of The Celestial Hierarchy are a restatement of Dionysius’ basic theme, introduced at the beginning of the Divine Names, that one must not resort to words or conceptions concerning divine truths. His basic themes are repeated over and over again. He goes to so much trouble to explain that we cannot say anything about God that one must suspect a need on his part to press home certain important points against opponents who believe otherwise. One passage, which has been regarded as autobiographical,21 indicates that the original starting point was a problem: the pictorial representation of the angels in the Old Testament. Had Ps-Dionysius really received a philosophical education, as he claims, he could have presented his material much more economically. One clear indicator of polemical intention is the derogatory language used by Dionysius when attacking the points of view of his opponents. Luibheid’s translation makes use of emotively contemptuous expressions such as ‘It would have been a silly mix-up and a stupid confusion to assert that . . . ’;22 ‘there are some who ridiculously believe that . . . ’;23 ‘Someone . . . out of wretched self-regard, could imagine himself capable of . . . ’.24 Examination of the Greek critical text reveals that in many cases this is an exaggeration of Dionysius’ language, which is usually more 21

CH 2.5, 145B; P. Rorem, Pseudo-Dionysius, trans. C. Luibheid, p. 153, n. 39 CH 15.1, 328B 23 EH 7.I.2, 553B 24 EH 7.III.6, 561C 22

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moderate. Even allowing for this, there still remain 17 expressions of an uncomplimentary nature directed at a third person. The distribution of these is as follows : DN MT CH EH

3 0 3 11

From Divine Names : 1) kaÈ oÎdèna . . . ‚diastrìfoic ânnoÐaic . . . oÚmai präc toÜto ‚ntereØn 25 [No one with an unperverted mind would deny (that the attributes of God refer to the complete deity)] 2) Esti . . . Šlogon . . . kaÈ skaiän . . . 26 [It is . . . irrational . . . and uncouth . . . ] 3) t¨c paranoÐac SÐmwnoc ‚ntiüûhtikoÈ logoÈ . . . 27 [the disputatious words of mad Simon . . . ] From the Celestial Hierarchy: 4) filautÐø kaÈ aÎjadeÐø 28 [the selfishness and arrogance (of the Hebrew people)] 5) aÎjˆdh kaÈ jraseØan kaÈ ‚nèfikton êreunan 29 [(the angels maintain a sacred caution regarding) any presumptuous and rash searching after the unattainable] 6) íntwc ‚topÐa tä prgma kaÈ sugqÔsewc poll¨c ‚nˆmeston 30 [It would have been a really extraordinary thing to do, full of considerable confusion, to . . . ] From the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy: 25

DN 2.1, 637C, Corpus Dionysiacum I, p. 124 DN 4.11, 708C, Corpus Dionysiacum I, p. 156 27 DN 6.2, 857A, Corpus Dionysiacum I, p. 192 28 CH 9.3, 260C, Corpus Dionysiacum II, p. 37 29 CH 13,4, 305A, Corpus Dionysiacum II, p. 47 30 CH 15.1, 328B, Corpus Dionysiacum II, p. 51 26

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7) tolmhrÀc èpiqeir soi . . . ‚kìsmwc ÍperfronoÜsa 31 [those who dare to look directly at bright lights are arguing rashly and with unseemly arrogance] 8) ælèjrion Õfesin32 [(one must be fearless in confronting any) . . . destructive slackening] 9) oÉ màn ‚peris€lpigtoi kajìlou . . . ‚naidÀc ‚peipˆmenoi t˜n swthri¸dh . . . 33

[the shameless rejection of baptism by those who are stone-deaf to the meaning of the sacraments] 10) The possessed, in their destructive senselessness (ælèjrion ‚nohsÐan) have turned away34 11) Among those persons barred from the Eucharist are a group who präc t€ tÀn ânantÐwn deÐmatˆ te kaÈ fˆsmata [because of fears and fantasies that get in the way], di ‚nandrÐan eupajeØc [on account of their unmanly softness] fail to arrive . . . 35 12) ælèjrioc ‚postasÐa [the destructive defection of a human nature which has senselessly (‚no twc) slipped away . . . ]36 13) Those who teach holiness rashly (tolmhrÀc) are ‚nÐeroi (impious). They must not dare to (tolmhtèon) guide others if they have not themselves become completely jeoeidèstaton37 14) Among the unholy, there are some who believe, contrary to reason (‚lìgwc) that . . . 38 15) Those who have destructively rejected (ælejrÐwc ‚porrapÐsantec ) the divine laws of scripture . . . have senselessly (‚no twc ) abandoned the sacred way of life.39 31

EH 2.III.3, 400A, Corpus Dionysiacum II, p. 74 EH 2.III.5, 401C, Corpus Dionysiacum II, p. 77 33 EH 3.III.6, 432C, Corpus Dionysiacum II, p. 84 34 EH 3.III.7, 433D, Corpus Dionysiacum II, p. 86 35 EH 3.III.7, 436B, Corpus Dionysiacum II, p. 87 36 EH 3.III.11, 440C, Corpus Dionysiacum II, p. 90 37 EH 3.III.14, 445A–B, Corpus Dionysiacum II, p. 94 38 EH 7.I.2, 553B, Corpus Dionysiacum II, p. 121 39 EH 7.I.2, 556A, Corpus Dionysiacum II, p. 122 32

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16) ‚no twc dà präc t€ qeÐrw palindrom sasai [senselessly returning to sin . . . ]40 17) ‚jlÐan æÐhsin41 [wretched self-conceit] Certain epithets occur frequently: • ‚nìhtoc, ‚nìhtwc, Šlogoc: irrational, senseless • aujadeÐa, tolmhrÀc: arrogance, presumptuous • ælèjrioc: destructive, pernicious Some of these words occur more than once in the paragraphs from which these extracts are taken. Treating multiple occurrences as single, we can say that these particular words occur once in Divine Names, twice in Celestial Hierarchy, and 12 times in Ecclesiastical Hierarchy! A pattern begins to emerge. The Mystical Theology contains no polemic and is simply an exposition of doctrine. Divine Names and Celestial Hierarchy are basically expositions of doctrine but contain a little polemic. The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy contains the most polemic. Although it appears to be a straightforward account of various aspects of sacramental life, it is in fact heavily polemical. Some of the letters are also polemical, but here at least Dionysius is tackling controversial issues directly. Positioning of the letters at the end of the corpus may serve to distract attention away from disputation in the four treatises. Although the letters are found after the treatises in the manuscripts, there is no other indication of the order. The matter will be discussed later in the section. Dionysius presents his polemic in a variety of ways. Firstly, there is the open criticism in Letters 6–8, together with that of Simon Magus42 and Elymas the Magician43 in Divine Names, and the Jewish people44 in The Celestial Hierarchy. On another level are passages such as numbers 2, 6–7 and 9–17 above, where criticism is directed at certain persons or groups who are unnamed but otherwise recognizable. Together with this may be put numbers 1, 5 and 8, where a particular standard of behaviour is held up for approval in 40

EH 7.III.3, 557C, Corpus Dionysiacum II, p. 124 EH 7.III.6, 561C, Corpus Dionysiacum II, p. 127 42 DN 6.2, 857A 43 DN 8.6, 893B–C 44 CH 9.3, 260C 41

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order to point a finger at the opposite set of qualities. Other examples of this are found in The Celestial Hierarchy, where the positive qualities of the angels (and lack of negative ones) are held up for admiration: a) the cherubim are generous in sharing their gifts with their subordinates;45 b) the Thrones are free from passion and concern for material things;46 c) the Dominions are ‘unfettered by earthly tendencies’, ‘reject empty appearances’ and are free of a desire for harsh repression and domination of their subordinates;47 d) the Powers have ‘masculine and unshakeable courage’ and are free of all weakness, feebleness and cowardice;48 e) the Authorities do not use their authority to do ‘tyrannous harm’ to their subordinates;49 f) the Archangels are generous in sharing the divine enlightenments which they have received with the order below.50 He continues in the same vein in the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy: ‘This hierarchy in its purity has rejected and abandoned everything of disorder, of disharmony, and of confusion.’51 The implication is that there are those who do not live up to these standards. Another type of passage is that which begins ‘But someone may say . . . ’. Some of these are by way of introducing a discourse on some moral issue, as for example the discussion on the existence of evil.52 Others are moral exhortations in disguise on the evil of materialism,53 the presumptuous rejection of knowledge of God,54 and the impossibility of evil or impurity among the angels.55 Others are arguments defending the need for angels as intermediaries between God and man,56 prayer for the 45

CH 7.1, 205C CH 7.1, 205D 47 CH 8.1, 237C 48 CH 8.1, 237D-240A 49 CH 8.1, 240A 50 CH 9.2, 257D 51 EH 5.I.1, 500D 52 DN 4.18, 716A–B 53 DN 8.7, 896B–C 54 CH 9.3, 260C–D 55 EH 6.III.6, 537A 56 CH 4.3, 180C 46

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dead57 and infant baptism.58 Dionysius twice makes reference to scoffers.59 Some believe that body and soul are both destroyed at death; others believe in a complete and permanent separation of body and soul, leading either to reincarnation or to a state of permanent disembodiment. A fourth group are equivalent to modern spiritualists for whom the afterlife is seen very much as a continuation of this one. The way of the Christian is none of these; soul and body are inseparably joined in this life and again at resurrection. The inseparability of body and soul is generally taken as a Jewish characteristic, in contrast to the Hellenistic belief in a soul which has a temporary dwelling in a body which is inferior to it. But Damascius says, in his Commentary on the Parmenides, that neither a bodiless soul nor a soul without a nous can participate in divinity:

OÖte g€r sÀma Šneu yuc¨c jeoÜ pote metˆsqoi ‹n oÖte yuc˜ Šneu noÜ : di€ g€r toÜ ™nwmènou t¨c oÎsÐac tä meristän t¨c genèsewc tÄ ánÈ sunafjeÐh Šn.60 Dionysius has had a bad press from feminists on account of his complete omission of women.61 This does not in itself make him a misogynist. It is much more likely that he is writing about, because he is living in, an environment in which women do not occur. The frequent references to monks in the Dionysian Corpus might indicate a monastic milieu. On the other hand, there is no mention of bnai qyama, readers, subdeacons, exorcists or other minor orders. Bishops, priests and deacons are a necessary part of Dionysius’ church hierarchy; the other orders are not, and so are omitted. The church community (without which the bishop would be out of work!) is virtually absent. Instead of being an integral part of the total life of the community of the Church, the sacramental roles of the clergy ‘are isolated from their original context and serve merely as an artificial form for a preconceived hierarchical system’.62 Indeed, the whole work seems to focus on the higher clergy, the bishop in particular, as if only they are relevant. In view of this, there are two groups of people mentioned in the treatises which do not fit into Dionysius’ threefold hierarchy: children and monks. The question of infant baptism and communion is tacked on rather 57

EH 7.III.6, 560C–D EH 7.III.11, 565D-568A 59 EH 7.I.2, 553B–C; EH 7.III.1, 557A 60 Damascius: Commentaire du Parmenide de Platon, ed. J. Comb`es, (Paris, 1997), pp. 1–2 61 G.M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism (Cambridge, 1995), pp. 99–100 62 J. Meyendorff, Christ in Eastern Christian Thought (Crestwood, NY, 1987), pp. 104–5 58

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incongruously to EH 7, the rite for the dead.63 As this chapter does not fit into Dionysius’ formal scheme for the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy of three sacraments, three clerical orders, and three lay orders, its authenticity has been questioned.64 The section on children and the sacraments of baptism and the Eucharist appears to be an appendix to the relevant chapters (EH 2 and EH 3). Dionysius opens it by referring to the scorn of those who are against infant baptism.65 The real issue here may be, not the age of those being initiated and admitted to communion, but a restatement of the author’s belief that all of us lack understanding; all are children in the eyes of God66 unless and until we are called to receive episcopal ordination. Only the bishop has received purification, illumination, and perfection. A catechumen is like a foetus; he has not even been born into the real world.67 Children are therefore on a level with other Christians. This section appears to have been written to answer those who would equate status in the earthly hierarchy with worldly intelligence and education. Dionysius’ attitude to monks, some of whom were highly intelligent and well educated (logi¸teroc), confirms this, although he nowhere quotes St Paul’s classic reference to worldly wisdom in 1 Cor. 1.19–20 and 26–27. This is not surprising in view of his own learning! Before discussing the place of monks in Dionysian thought, however, I will look at the rest of EH 7, the rite for the dead. The funeral rites are introduced as if an integral part of the system: ‘After this discussion I think we should now talk about our sacred rite for the dead.’68 It is true that this chapter does not appear to fit into the hierarchical pattern of the rest of the treatise, but nevertheless it is part of his overall message. It is only when the whole work is regarded as a summa that this chapter does not ‘belong’ in this position. The structure of the whole corpus is too carefully worked out for this kind of slip. It is much more likely that Dionysius intended the chapter to be in this position, just as Letter 8, to the monk Demophilus, is carefully placed ‘out of order’. The funeral rite is not the same for all, holy and unholy alike; ’KaÈ g€r 63

EH 7.III.11, 565D–568C B. Brons, ‘Sekund¨are Textparteien im Corpus Pseudo-Dionysiacum? Literarkritische Beobachtungen zu ausgewahlten Textstellen’, Nachrichten der Akademie der Wissenschaften ¨ zu G¨ottingen: Philologisch-Historische Klasse, (Gottingen, 1975): 101–40 65 EH 7.III.11, 565D 66 EH 5.I.2, 501B; EH 5.III.3, 512A; cf. Evagrius, KG IV.13: ‘Those who have partaken of the flesh and blood are infants; now, one who is young is neither good nor bad. So it is rightly said that men are intermediate between angels and demons.’ 67 EH 3.III.6, 432D–433B; EH 6.I.1, 532A 68 EH 7.I.1, 552D 64

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oÎdà toÜto koinìn âsti toØc ÉeroØc te kaÈ ‚nièroic . . . ’. Luibheid translates this as ‘the holy and the unholy’, but here it makes more sense as ‘the consecrated and the unconsecrated’, who are as different in death as they were different in life (¹sper ‚lloØon eÚdìc âsti t¨c âkatèrwn zw¨c oÕtw kaÈ präc jˆnaton Êìntec ). It is not that the process of dying is different, but that they are treated differently after they have died.69 There may be a suggestion here that one’s position in the afterlife is determined by one’s status in the hierarchy below. Damascius comments, in his Second Commentary on Plato’s Phaedo, that there are three ways of paying worship to the souls of the departed: one for priests, one for common people, and one for those who have died a violent death.70 It was traditional in Greek pagan culture to distinguish between the burial of a priest and the burial of a layman. Dionysius has only a twofold division: bishops, priests and deacons on the one hand, and monks and other laymen on the other. Note that the priest and the monk are once again clearly demarcated. Dionysius continues by explaining that those who have led consecrated lives (again, I prefer this to Luibheid’s ‘sacred’, which suggests moral perfection; a few lines further down, he refers to their falling into sin; in any case Dionysius does not make a habit of emphasizing moral perfection) will enjoy, after death, an immortality in which there is no sin or suffering, in which they will be permanently Christ-like. It is for this reason that clergy are filled with such joy at the approach of death. Because their future is secure and does not depend on a judgement, they know what their reward will be. Since no one is free from sin, God, in his love for mankind, closes his eyes to those sins which result from human weakness.71 A parallel to this may be seen in Elias’ Life of John of Tella. Not long before his death, John was visited by an aged archimandrite who was also a prisoner with him. The old man asked John to bury him, adding: ‘Do not be sad, but be comforted, for you will soon follow after me.’72 It is those who have rejected the Church, or who have been excommunicated, who should be afraid of what is to befall them after death. Bishops should not hesitate, where necessary, to use the power of excommunication which has been vested in them, as God guides them.73 What cannot be made allowance for is a deliberate rejection of the 69

EH 7.I.1, 552D–553A The Greek Commentaries on Plato’s Phaedo: vol. II, Damascius, ed. L.G. Westerink (Amsterdam, 1973), This passage is in Commentary II.108. Westerink notes that Herodotus mentions separate graves for priests, other Spartans and slaves 71 EH 7.III.7, 561D 72 Elias’ Vita Iohannis Episcopi Tellae, ed. E.W. Brooks, CSCO III.25 (Paris, 1907), p. 59 73 EH 7.III.7, 564B–D 70

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means of salvation provided by the church hierarchy. This includes the disobedience and pride which Dionysius saw among monks who would not accept their place in the hierarchy. As with Severus, ‘Satan’ is equated with pride rather than with evil/sin.74 The customary prayers for the departed on the third, ninth and thirtieth days and at the year’s mind are omitted altogether.75 These would be relevant if he were writing a celebrant’s handbook, as the detailed descriptions in the rest of the chapter suggest he is. But this seventh chapter of the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy has been written (as may be the case for the rest of the treatise) to underline his theme that a man’s position in the Church is chosen, not by himself, or by the whim of others, or by chance, but by God. References in the text of the corpus to bishops, priests, deacons and monks follow a regular pattern. In Luibheid’s edition bishops are mentioned on 47 pages, priests on 26, deacons on 19 and monks on 9 pages. This acts as an approximate indication of the relative importance of the various ranks in the earthly hierarchy. There is, however, another order in the way these four groups appear in the text. Bishops appear first; they are referred to in DN3 , CH 12, CH 13, EH 1, EH 2, EH 3, EH 4, EH 5, EH 6, EH 7, Ep. 7, Ep. 8, Ep. 9 (13 places in all). Priests appear next; they are referred to in DN 4, CH 13, CH 15, EH 1, EH 2, EH 3, EH 5, EH 6, Ep. 6, Ep. 8 (10 places in all). Deacons appear for the first time in CH 13, then in EH 2, EH 3, EH 5, EH 6, EH 7, Ep. 5, Ep. 8 (8 places in all). Monks do not appear until EH 6, then again in EH 7 and Ep. 1, Ep. 2, Ep. 3, Ep. 4, Ep. 8 (7 places in all). Given the carefully worked out structure of the whole system, this mathematical regularity is very suggestive. Bishops and priests are the only clergy to appear in The Divine Names. Bishops, priests and deacons appear in The Celestial Hierarchy: a place for clergy alone (no laymen are present). Monks have no place in either Divine Names or The Celestial Hierarchy; they first appear in The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy, and then not until the penultimate chapter. The relationship between these four groups is extremely important to Dionysius, so important that it needs, not simply to be stated, but underlined in several different ways, so that the message cannot fail to be received. Now this argument obviously only holds if the treatises were intended to appear in this order. Unfortunately, no definitive order has yet been established for them.76 The three orders found in the manuscript tradition 74

Ep. 8.2, 1092B; Select Letters of Severus I, pp. 214–15, 219 Apostolic Constitutions VIII.42, 1–5 76 P. Rorem, Pseudo-Dionysius: A Commentary (Oxford, 1993), p. 6 75

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are CH, DN, EH, MT, Ep.; CH, EH, DN, MT, Ep.; DN, CH, EH, MT, Ep. However, the surviving Greek manuscripts are derived from an edition by John of Scythopolis,77 so cannot be guaranteed to reflect the author’s intentions. The order in Sergius of Reshaina’s Syriac translation is DN, CH, MT, EH, Ep.78 The order adopted by Luibheid (DN, MT, CH, EH, Ep.) is none of these, but is based on the Neoplatonic principle of Procession and Return, which is so important to Dionysius. Since the Mystical Theology does not mention clergy, its precise position in the overall scheme does not alter my argument, which fits the orders of Sergius of Reshaina, Luibheid, and one group of the Greek manuscripts. The author’s original order therefore appears to be DN, CH, EH, Ep.; MT could appear in any position after Divine Names. The reasons for considering the Dionysian corpus not to be purely summa, but to contain a substantial measure of polemic, are outlined above. A summa is not directed against a person or persons. Writing becomes polemic when aimed at opponents. We shall now see who these might be.

5.3

His Opponents

The Divine Names begins by denouncing the portrayal of God and divine truths in images or in words.79 Although Dionysius pays lip service to the need for uneducated folk and beginners in the Christian life to have some form of pictorial representation from which to learn,80 those who are more advanced must leave such aids behind. This is reminiscent of Sergius of Reshaina’s teaching that: The intellect investigates divinely in order to practise, by the knowledge of visible things, for lifting itself up to ascend and rise towards the spiritual contemplation . . . and it learns, by the exact knowledge which it acquires of them, to escape from them and by means of them, towards the invisible natures; it is trained and supplied, not by the terrestrial knowledge of these visible things, knowledge which is equally possible for superficial and depraved men.81 77

A. Louth, JTS Ns 43 (1992): 266–8 B.R. Suchla, ed., Corpus Dionysiacum I (Berlin, 1990), p. 38 79 DN 1.1, 585B–588B 80 EH 3.III.2, 428C 81 Sergius of Reshaina, On the Spiritual Life, CII. 78

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Both views show Evagrian influence.82 Admittedly holy scripture uses images; Divine Names is occupied with these images, and with the undesirability of taking the words literally. The bread and wine of the Eucharist, as also the consecrated myron, are likewise images. This is allowable, provided that we recognize that we must go beyond images and even beyond concepts. This is a matter of common sense. The eternal cannot be circumscribed by the five senses and the intellect. If this were the whole of Dionysius’ argument, there would be no need for him to go to the length of writing four treatises and ten letters. The author of the Cloud of Unknowing needs far fewer pages to say the same thing. There is much more than this to Dionysius’ argument on the unknowability of God. Even before the sixth century, the Cappadocians had developed negative theology to combat Eunomius and the Anomoeans who, being extreme Arians, identified God with the Father, knowledge of whom was possible for the human mind.83 Dionysius follows the Cappadocians in disagreeing violently with this. Because God cannot be known by the intellect,84 he cannot be portrayed in words. It could be argued that God might appear in visions, as he did to the prophets of old. In which case, how could it be denied that some direct knowledge of divine truths might be imparted? Dionysius replies that such knowledge never comes direct from God in any case, but through the intermediacy of the angels.85 Just as it is dangerous to look at the sun directly, so it is dangerous to seek a direct relationship with God.86 Dionysius shows contempt rather than pity for those who attempt it.87 This suggests that he is not simply dealing with misguided but simple people, but with opponents whom he regards as heretical. If the number of times that he describes their arguments as illogical, senseless or foolish is any indication, they are not simple or uneducated at all. Such a person was Stephen Bar Sudhaili, whose visions and mystical writings were more or less contemporary with Dionysius. There were undoubtedly others. As I have suggested earlier in Chapters 1 and 2, Dionysius was directly opposed to men like Bar Sudhaili, and probably to him in person. Dionysius’ monistic system may have been employed to combat the Gnostic type of dualism which is a denial of the unity of God. There cannot 82

KG I.26; KG II.10 J. Meyendorff, Christ in Eastern Christian Thought, p. 93 84 MT 1.2, 1000A 85 CH 4.2,3, 180B–181A 86 EH 2.I, 392C 87 EH2.III.3,400A; EH 7.III.6, 561C 83

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be more than one God,88 since the source of every duality is a monad.89 Nothing lacks its share of the One90 because everything in the world has arisen by means of procession and return to the One.91 He now has to explain the existence of evil. Opponents who believe in the existence of evil as a distinct entity have tried to trap him with a dilemma: either evil comes from God or from another, independent, divine principle. The long excursus on evil in Chapter 4 of The Divine Names was written to deal with this issue.92 The avoidance (in general) of the associated topics of hell, Satan, the Cross and Atonement is necessitated by his argument that evil is an accidental deficiency of good and that nothing is evil by nature.93 Dionysius’ many references to ‘confusion’ (sÔgqusic) are consonant with Monophysite teaching that ‘the Transcendent God has come to join us in what we are without himself undergoing change or confusion’.94 He is certainly against both Chalcedonian ‘Nestorianism’ and the Eutychian ‘confusion’ of two natures: ‘In fact he is nothing less than the archetypal God, the supra-divine transcendentally one God who dwells indivisibly in every individual and who is in himself undifferentiated unity with no commixture and no multiplication arising out of his presence among the many.’95 Philoxenus of Mabbugh also argued against both Nestorian and Eutychian points of view, using the analogy of a baby, who inherits the properties of both parents. The incarnation is an exception inasmuch as the divine and human natures are not confused.96 To a Monophysite, the union of divine and human natures in Christ is ‘without change or confusion’.97 There is ‘no confusion and no jumbling of any parts’ (‚mig˜c . . . kaÈ oÎdenÈ mèrei sumpefurmènh ).98 Stephen Bar Sudhaili speaks frequently of ‘commingling’: Let us . . . speak of Commingling, of which divine Minds also are accounted worthy at that time when they become ‘above unification’; and let us say what Commingling is, and what Unification [is], and whether [he who is] ‘Christ’ and ‘Son’ 88

DN 6.2, 857A DN 4.21, 721C–D 90 DN 13.2, 977C 91 DN 10.1, 937A 92 DN 4.18–35, 716A–736B 93 DN 4.32–34, 732C–733C 94 DN 2.10, 648D-649A 95 DN 2.11, 649C 96 Tractatus Tres de Trinitate et Incarnatione, CSCO Scriptores Syri 9.10 (Louvain, 1961), pp. 197–9 97 DN 1.4, 592B 98 DN 2.4, 641C, Corpus Dionysiacum I, pp. 127–8 89

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and ‘Beloved’ is united or commingled. Now, for my own part, I know that Unification is very very close and near to that which is called ‘Commingling’; that is to say, that something distinct appears in it . . . but in those who have been commingled . . . nothing distinct or different is known or seen. Therefore we glorify ‘Christ’ and ‘Son’ and ‘Offspring’, the designation of our Unification, but the name of Commingling is far more sublime and exceeding all the designations of Unification. Now those who have been united may possibly be separated, but those who have been commingled are no more torn asunder . . . the designation of ‘Commingling’ is proper for Minds that have become ‘above Unification’.99 Dionysius’ opponents are men who believe that it is possible to describe God by one means or another. His studied avoidance of the incarnate Jesus suggests that Christological issues may be involved. Some of his opponents appear to blur the boundaries between divine and human. We must not do this, any more than we may confuse the persons of the Trinity. Unity and confusion are two different things. Unity is ‘an undivided communion where each thing continues to exhibit its own specific form and is no way adulterated through association with its opposite’.100 Since peace is ‘an alliance in which nothing is confused’,101 it follows that those who insist on confusing divine and human are enemies of peace.

5.4

Issues of Authority

It is difficult to see why some scholars persist in thinking of Dionysius as a monk in the absence of any concrete evidence that he was not a bishop. Admittedly this is what he claims to be, but proof that he was of any lower status is not forthcoming, unless one sees Letter 8.4, 1093C, ‘Whose servant do you think I set you up to be?’, as evidence that he was a priest.102 He could have been a priest on the occasion of Demophilus’ consecration, but this does not mean that he remained one. He makes it quite clear that a full explanation of the meanings of the sacred symbols 99

The Book of the Holy Hierotheos IV.21, p. 124 DN 11.2, 949C 101 DN 11.2, 952A 102 P. Rorem, footnote to EH 6.I.3, 533A, in C. Luibheid, trans. Pseudo-Dionysius: The Complete Works, p. 276 100

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may only be transmitted by one bishop to another.103 Since he is giving the fullest possible explanation to Timothy, it follows logically that they should both be bishops: ‘I am giving you this gift of God, together with other things pertaining to the hierarchs. I do so because of the solemn promises you made, of which I am now reminding you, promises never to pass to anyone except sacred – initiators of your own order the hierarch’s superior sacred words.’ The implication is that he consecrated Timothy as bishop: ‘I have not kept to myself any of the hierarchical words which were handed down to me. I have passed them on unchanged to you.’104 Issues of authority are dealt with in the Letters. A man may only correct someone of his own rank or lower. Failure of duty by a bishop should only be pointed out by another bishop. There is a hint of reproach in the closing words of The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy: ‘For I feel sure that my words will rekindle the sparks of God’s fire which sleep in you.’105 Dionysius rebukes the priest Sosipater in Letter 6 and the monk Demophilus in Letter 8. Incidentally, his sharp reminder that ‘It is not permitted that a priest should be corrected by . . . the monks’106 shows that he cannot have been a monk himself. His hostility to Demophilus surely indicates the annoyance (and insecurity?) of a man whose authority has been questioned. Throughout the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy he goes into details of the part played by the bishop in the sacraments, together with the meanings of the different rites and the emotions elicited in him by them. Such details could have been obtained from a handbook such as the Testamentum Domini or Apostolic Constitutions, but he speaks with the confidence of one who has taken part in the rites many times. The term ‘Elder’ (presbÔteroc) and ‘Fellow-Elder’ (sumpresbÔteroc ) found in the chapter titles and sub-titles may be disregarded as editorial additions, since they are not found anywhere in the body of the text.107 sumpresbÔteroc literally means ‘fellow-priest’; it is a term used by a bishop to refer to a priest, or by one priest to refer to another, but never by one bishop of another.108 It is possible that Dionysius presented himself as a bishop in order to conceal his real identity. His attitude to the lack of humility of monks of his acquaintance suggests that he was higher in the hierarchy than they; that is, he was either a bishop or a priest. The comment in Letter 8, perhaps directed at a real opponent of his, may be an unintentional slip. Since there 103

EH 1.5, 377A DN 13.4, 984A 105 EH 7.10, 569A 106 Ep. 8, 1088C 107 C. Luibheid, trans., Pseudo-Dionysius: The Complete Works, p. 49 n. 2 108 G.W.H. Lampe, A Patristic Greek Lexicon, p. 1290 104

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is no function of a bishop at which a priest is not also present, he would have been quite capable of writing as if with the knowledge of a bishop. This would not be true of a man lower in the hierarchy, such as a deacon or a monk. As we have seen, Dionysius has a good many uncomplimentary things to say about his opponents. They are not simply on the opposite side to him doctrinally. Some of them may be members of his own party who need to be brought into line. The worst crime in his book is pride: arrogance or presumptuousness. Apart from two references to baptism, his only mention of Satan occurs in Letter 8,109 where Dionysius strives to rescue the monk Demophilus from the sin of pride, that sin which caused the most beautiful of all the angels, Lucifer, to fall from heaven. The tragedy of that fall lay in his very nearness to perfection, a status with which he could not be content. In reaching upwards to seize that to which he was not entitled, he lost all. There is a parallel with the situation of Demophilus, of whom the author of the Dionysian corpus was clearly very fond.110 Dionysius compares him with Moses, a man who was very near to God on occasion.111 The letter is an impassioned attempt to rescue the monk, who is in danger of being lost to the Church.112 Since even holy men like Carpos can become angry,113 anger is not wrong in itself;114 it has its place, along with reason and desire, but reason must prevail over the other two. Only then will the individual be fit to be in a position of authority.115 Demophilus will not be able to make spiritual progress unless he can keep order within himself. The sorrowful Letter of Jacob of Serugh to Stephen Bar Sudhaili comes to mind: Thou art called to heaven; give not thyself over to earthly things: paradise awaits thee; what willst thou among thorns? . . . O pious man, hasten thy course after excellent things . . . Let not the good thou hast done dwell upon thy mind, lest it prevent thee from doing what thou still hast to do.116 This letter of Jacob’s gives no hint that Bar Sudhaili’s real sin was doctrinal deviance. Stephen was accused of pride and impiety by Philoxenus of 109

Ep. 8, 1092B Ep. 8,1093C 111 Ep. 8, 1084B–1085B 112 Ep. 8, 1093C–D 113 Ep. 8, 1097B–1100D 114 CH 2.4, 141D 115 Ep. 8, 1093A–B 116 A.L. Frothingham, Stephen Bar Sudaili, the Syrian Mystic and the Book of Hierotheos (Leyden, 1886), p. 11 110

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Mabbugh117 on account of his having developed a theological system of his own. For Dionysius, however, there is no perfection apart from the hierarchy and sacraments of the Church. It is the function of the bishop to perfect. The three stages are purification, illumination and perfection. They must occur in this order, and they can only be brought about by means of the sacraments. His opponent does not accept the necessity of the sacraments, which Bar Sudhaili was also accused of rejecting: ‘dissuading Heathen, Jews and heretics from Christian instruction and from being converted to God. It [Bar Sudhaili’s universalist teaching] makes of no effect holy Baptism and the giving of the Divine mysteries . . . ’.118 Bar Sudhaili taught that ‘the Baptism with water is the Baptism of the body, and it is only a symbol and type of the glorious and real Baptism, of which all divine Minds are accounted worthy in the place that is above the heavens’.119 Dionysius had some harsh words for those who rejected the sacraments: ‘Those who are stone-deaf to what the sacred sacraments teach also have no eye for the imagery. Shamelessly they have rejected the saving initiation which brings about the divine birth, and ruinously they have echoed the scriptural text, ‘I do not wish to know your ways.’120 In criticizing the way a priest was carrying out his duties, Demophilus was usurping the place of the man’s bishop: Whoever wrongfully dares to teach holiness before he has regularly practised it himself is unholy and is a stranger to sacred norms . . . if God’s inspiration and choice have not summoned one to the task of leadership, if one has not yet received perfect and lasting divinization, one must avoid the arrogance of guiding others,121 which is precisely what Demophilus was doing. Demophilus’ ill-advised rush into the sanctuary seems not to have been an isolated incident, according to John of Tella: We have heard that certain persons below the rank of priest, who have not perfectly learnt the rite of bringing up the offertory, have the cheek to go up to the altar to bring up the 117

Letter to Abraham and Orestes, priests of Edessa, A.L. Frothingham, Stephen Bar Sudhaili, pp. 28–48 118 A.L. Frothingham, Stephen Bar Sudhaili, pp. 28–31 119 The Book of the Holy Hierotheos III.5, p. 75 120 EH 3.III.6, 432C 121 EH 3.III,14, 445A–B

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offertory, in this terrible haste, while you are still praying, so giving occasion for comment and laughter.122 The ‘terrible haste’ appears to be twofold; in his anxiety to become a priest, the deacon in question is trying to act a part which he has not yet learnt properly. The result is that he gets his timing wrong and goes up to the altar with the offertory too early, in the middle of the preceding prayer, a faux pas which gives rise to much mirth. It is out of concern for our well-being that God gives to us according to our capacity.123 To expect everyone to be treated as equals, regardless of whether they deserve it or not, is in itself unrighteous. It would appear that Dionysius’ opponent is a man who is otherwise close to perfection. It is arrogant to step out of one’s place in the hierarchy; God’s righteousness allocates qualities to each person as appropriate and as deserved.124 Dionysius’ objection to confusion, change or jumbling of parts is directed, I believe, not at the Chalcedonian Two Natures, but also at members of his own party who held Origenist teachings that there will come a time when: there will no longer be Father, Son and Spirit; for if . . . the Creator and all his creatures who are distinct from each other will become one nature and person, how must not consubstantial persons of necessity also become one person? Thus there would be a confusion, not only of the Creation with the Divine Substance, but also of the Persons one with another. 125

We are not entitled to make distinctions where there are none, nor to jumble together what has been distinguished.126 Dionysius does not restrict his criticism to the Origenist monks. Those whose job it is to teach true doctrine are also at fault if, out of jealousy or possessiveness, they refuse to share with those below them the illumination which they have received from above.127 His criticism would also extend to academic clergy who were so involved with intellectual and doctrinal concerns that they failed to pass on what they had learned to others. If the system 122 ¨ John of Tella, Canon 13, A. Vo¨ obus, Syrische Kanonessammlungen IA, CSCO 307, subsidia 35 (Louvain, 1970), p. 164. This set of canons was written for the Monastery of Mar Zakkhai in Callinicum. 123 DN 1.1, 588A 124 DN 8.7, 896B 125 A.L. Frothingham, Stephen Bar Sudhaili, p. 34 126 DN 2.2, 640A 127 EH 2.III.3, 400B; EH 5.III.7, 513C–D

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is to work, generosity is as essential as humility. Jealousy, materialism, harshness, repressiveness – the angels are free of all these things. Because the church hierarchy is modelled on the angelic hierarchy, it follows that there is no place in it for any of these faults.128 Since one does not associate any of these human failings with angels, it would seem that Dionysius is addressing a real problem in the Church of his day.

5.5

Mysticism – For or Against?

Given Dionysius’ admiration of, and dependence on, historical figures such as Proclus and St Paul, together with the (possibly fictitious) Hierotheus, Carpos and Timothy, it would be reasonable to assume that he himself had had mystical experiences of union with the divine. The inclusion of Dionysius in books on mysticism, along with those who undoubtedly did have such personal experience, tends to confirm this assumption. The incalculable influence of Dionysius on the Western mystical tradition would scarcely be possible if he were himself, if not a mystic, at least a supporter, encourager and teacher of mystical experience in others. His description of Hierotheus’ ‘ecstasy’ leads us to believe that he moves in circles where such things as the mystical ascent are taken for granted.129 There are various opinions as to whether Dionysius ever had an experience of union with God himself.130 Louth, Rorem and Vanneste represent the majority view that he did not. The word ‘ecstasy’ to Dionysius did not mean a private emotional experience characterized by loss of consciousness of one’s surroundings, but a focussing of one’s attention on another. Standing outside oneself means that one is no longer self-centred, but God-centred.131 For Rorem, union is a matter of liturgy rather than of emotion,132 something that happens to every Christian, every Sunday at the Eucharist. I find Rorem’s definition somewhat unsatisfactory, because it seems to imply that the union of the individual with God in the Eucharist precludes an emotional or mystical response. As with human relationships, union 128

CH 8.1, 237C–240B DN 3.2, 681C–684A 130 E. Muehlenberg, ‘Die Sprache der religiosen Erfahrung bei Pseudo-Dionysius Areopagita’, in Christian Faith and Greek Philosophy in Late Antiquity, ed. L.R. Wickham et al. (Leiden, 1993), pp. 129–47 131 A. Louth, Denys the Areopagite (London, 1989), p. 103; P. Rorem, Biblical and Liturgical Symbols within the Pseudo-Dionysian Synthesis (Toronto, 1984), p. 137 132 See note to DN 3, 684A in Luibheid’s translation, p. 70 129

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may be on more than one level at once. In Chapters 3 and 4 of The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy, Dionysius seems to be pleading with us to allow an emotional interpretation. The language is emotive; his choice of words leads the reader to assume that this is what he is talking about: He [the hierarch] offers Jesus Christ to our view. He shows how out of love for humanity Christ emerged from the hiddenness of his divinity to take on human shape, to be utterly incarnate among us while yet remaining unmixed. He shows how he came down to us from his own natural unity to our own fragmented level, yet without change. He shows how, inspired by love for us, his kindly activities called the human race to enter participation with himself and to have a share in his own goodness, if we would make ourselves one with his divine life . . . 133 In the light which Jesus will give us, we will be able to glimpse the contemplation of the conceptual things clearly reflecting a blessed original beauty. And you, O most divine and sacred sacrament: Lift up the symbolic garments of enigmas which surround you. Show yourself clearly to our gaze. Fill the eyes of our mind with a unifying and unveiled light.134 Validation of an emotional response is even more true of DN 4.13, 712A–B, where he speaks of the ecstasy of the lover, with reference to Paul: ‘Paul was truly a lover and, as he says, he was beside himself for God.’ But Paul was not describing a mystical experience or vision in 2 Cor. 5.13; he was trying to explain why his behaviour towards the church at Corinth had been unreasonably irritable! He was, after all, an excitable man.135 Further, Dionysius completely ignores both of Paul’s visions, which would have provided obvious support for his argument.136 Although he draws on Gregory of Nyssa’s Life of Moses, Dionysius goes beyond Gregory in having a union with God at the summit in the darkness, rather than beyond it.137 Union with God is therefore possible for man in this life: 133

EH 3.III.13, 444C EH 3.III.2, 438C 135 See 2 Cor. 11.16–23 136 2 Cor. 12.1–4 and Acts 9.3–6, Acts 22.6–8, Acts 26.13–15 137 MT 1.3, 1001A; D. Knowles, ‘The influence of Pseudo-Dionysius on western mysticism’, in Christian Spirituality: Essays in Honour of Gordon Rupp, ed. P. Brooks (London, 1975), p. 83 134

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He surely cannot mean this literally, for freedom from all evil and all passion is not to be had in this life. Possibly this is just another of his inexplicable inconsistencies. His description of catechumens as ‘not yet sufficiently initiated into complete union with, and participation in, God’139 indicates that Christian initiation is the means by which man is brought to a state in which union with God becomes possible, union with God being inseparable from communion with each other.140 This is only partially realized on earth. The goal of the Church is to ensure that human beings have the greatest possible union with each other. Complete church unity is a dream which might yet be realized. Until then, complete union with God can come only after death, when, ‘our minds away from passion and from earth . . . somehow, in a way we cannot know, we shall be united with him and, our understanding carried away, blessedly happy, we shall be struck by his blazing light’.141 The angels, on the other hand, are ‘unspeakably happy in the way that, occasionally, sacred men are happy when God arranges for divine enlightenments to visit them’.142 ‘Happy’ would be a strange choice of word if Dionysius were not interested in emotional responses to God. Dionysius does not deny that Hierotheus and Carpus had experiences that can only be described as mystical or ecstatic. Yet these were no ordinary believers, but holy men: ‘The things of God are revealed to each mind in proportion to its capacities.’143 So one would expect (given Dionysius’ views on the matter) that such experiences would be restricted to those at the top of the hierarchy. Great scorn is poured on the individual who ‘out of wretched self-regard, could imagine himself capable of disdaining the mediation of the saints and of entering into direct relationship with the divinity’.144 The Letters reiterate human inability to communicate directly with God.145 Because God cannot be perceived or understood, anyone who 138

Ep. 10, 1117B EH 2.III.4, 400C 140 EH 3.1, 424D; EH 3.8, 437A 141 DN 1.4, 592C 142 CH 15.9, 340A 143 DN 1.1, 588A 144 EH 7.III.6, 561C 145 Ep. 1; Ep. 9.6, 1113B 139

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claims to have done so is deceived. Is it a coincidence that Letters 1, 2 and 3, which all contain this theme, are addressed to a monk? When Dionysius writes to ‘Timothy’ he is much less dogmatic. For Timothy is a hierarch, and thus has the same status as Moses, Paul, Hierotheus and Dionysius himself. He is therefore allowed to have mystical experiences.146 In fact, in contrast to Gaius and Demophilus, the young man is urged to strive for union with him who is beyond all knowledge.147 Then he will be lifted up by grace into that same darkness where Moses met with, and was united with, God. It is the pride of assuming that one can attain to a direct experience of God by one’s own efforts that most disturbs Dionysius. Perhaps this is why (as discussed in the previous chapter) he appears to be against asceticism (or at least to disregard it), although the excerpt from Letter 10 quoted two paragraphs above looks like a recommendation for apatheia. One can only proceed by means of the hierarchy and the liturgy.148 The ascent of Moses up Mount Sinai is a good example for him to use. The common people had no sight of God; they were kept at a distance, and only the hierarch ascended the mountain. So with ‘our’ church hierarchy. The supreme experience of union is for the bishop alone. Dionysius was opposed to those who claimed that their mystical or visionary experiences gave them the right to describe the mysteries of divine truth to others.149 Those against whom the Dionysian corpus is directed are therefore likely to fall into this category. This suggests that they are not bishops, but monks who claim to have access to knowledge of God as a result of their having had mystical experiences. But angelic status cannot be achieved by means of asceticism, special techniques or visions, only by means of the church hierarchy. If he himself is not claiming such angelic status, then persons lower down in the hierarchy certainly may not. Therefore, they may not claim to have mystical experiences or the knowledge which results from them. Even bishops have to obtain their knowledge via the hierarchy (that is, of the angels). In fact, true knowledge will only be granted when you admit that you do not know anything. He is not against mystical experience as such, just as long as it is viewed as proof of union with God, and not as a means to it. 146

DN 3.2–3, 684A–B MT 1, 997B 148 Organized religion may also have a positive function, in guarding the individual psyche from being overwhelmed by exposure to the numinous; E.C. Bianchi, ‘Jungian Psychology and Religious Experience’, Carl Jung and Christian Spirituality, ed. R.L. Moore (New York, 1988), p. 19 149 P. Roussseau, Ascetics, Authority and the Church in the Age of Jerome and Cassian (Oxford, 1978), pp. 28–9 147

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Vanneste denies that Dionysius had any mystical experiences himself.150 I believe that MT 1.1, 1000A, MT 1.3, 1001A and MT 3, 1033C are evidence that he did, but that what he experienced was so unlike any experience reported by others, of his time or previously, that he felt unable to claim it as such publicly. Nor, I suspect, would he have wanted to do so. He seems to have believed that a few people (hierarchs, of course) reach a state of purity in this life which permits union with the divine.151 In this respect, they are on a level with the angels.

5.5.1

Dionysius’ Use of the Word ÍmneØn

Careful reading of Dionysius does indeed show that his description of the Eucharist may be taken in a completely matter-of-fact way. It is his choice of words that is misleading. One example is his use of ÍmneØn. This word may be translated in either of two ways:152 a) to sing the praises of someone; b) to relate or to describe. Dionysius uses the word very frequently in Divine Names and The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy, though very little elsewhere. Luibheid falls into the trap and translates it as ‘praise’; Rolt is more cautious. For example: i) DN 2.1, 636C toÜto men oÞn kaÈ ân Šlloic âxetasjàn, ™mØn ‚podèdeiktai tä pˆsac ‚eÈ t€c jeoprepeØc âpwnumÐac oÎ merikÀc, ‚ll âpÈ t¨c ílhc kaÈ panteloÜc kaÈ ålokl rou kaÈ pl rouc jeìthtoc Ípä tÀn logÐwn ÍmneØsjai . . . 153

I have discussed all this elsewhere and I have shown how in scripture all the names appropriate to God are praised regarding the whole . . . (Luibheid, p. 58) Now this matter we have discussed elsewhere, and have shown that all the names proper to God are always applied in Scripture not partially but to the whole . . . (Rolt, p. 65) 150 J. Vanneste, ‘Is the Mysticism of Pseudo-Dionysius genuine?’, International Philosophical Quarterly 3 (1963): 286–306 151 EH 7, 553D; Ep. 10, 1117B 152 H.G. Liddell and R. Scott, A Greek–English Lexicon (Oxford, 1849), p. 1468 153 Corpus Dionysiacum I, ed. B.R. Suchla, p. 122

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ii) DN 4.21, 724A

kaÐtoi filÐac psi toØc oÜsi tä ‚gajän metadÐdwsi kaÈ aÎtoeir nh kaÈ eÊrhnìdwroc ÕmneØtai . . . 154 But in fact the sacred theologians sing a hymn of praise to the Good for giving friendship and peace to all beings . . . (Luibheid, p. 89) The Good imparts a principle of harmony to all things and is called by the sacred writers Peace and the Bestower of Peace. (Rolt, p. 118) iii) EH 3.II, 425D

KaÈ t€c Éer€c jeourgÐac å Éerˆrqhc Ímn sac ÉerourgeØ t€ jeiìtata kaÈ Íp îyin Šgei t€ Ímnhmèna di€ tÀn ÉerÀc prokeimènwn sumbìlwn . . . 155 The hierarch speaks in praise of the sacred works of God, sets about the performance of the most divine acts, and lifts into view the things praised through the sacredly displayed symbols. (Luibheid, p. 211) which may be better translated as ‘the hierarch recites the sacred works of God, performs the divine rites and lifts into view the things represented by the symbols holily displayed’. Koch observed that Dionysius frequently uses the verb Ímnein and its compounds where most authors would use lègein. Proclus also uses the word very frequently; presumably Dionysius has adopted the practice from him.156 The Ps-Procline Hymn to the Transcendent, quoted in Chapter 3, uses Ímnèw in precisely the way I am suggesting:

PÀc lìgoc Ímn sei se? SÌ g€r lìgú oÎdenÈ ûhtìc . [How can a word describe you? for you are defined by no words.] 154

Corpus Dionysiacum I, p. 169 Corpus Dionysiacum II, ed. G. Heil and A.M. Ritter (Berlin, 1991), p. 81 156 H. Koch, ‘Pseudo-Dionysius Areopagitica in seinen Beziehungen zum Neuplatonismus und Mysterienwesen’, Forschungen zur Christlichen Literatur und Dogmengeschichte 86.I, ed. A. Erhard and J.P. Kirsch (Mainz, 1900): 46–7 155

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It is notable that Dionysius has more examples of this usage in Chapter 3 of The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy, where he deals with the Eucharist, than in any other single book; the number of examples in this chapter alone are approximately equal to that in the whole of Divine Names, which is the other main source. What Dionysius is doing here is striving to create an (artificially?) devotional atmosphere of a particular kind, while at the same time conveying a different message to those who are able to read between the lines. This careful use of words is striking. His talent in this direction should alert the reader to the possibility that it is not only the words of scripture that have several layers of meaning. His own words are also intended, in places, to carry more than one meaning.

5.6

Heresies and the Unity of the Church

Like Constantine before him, the emperor Justinian was convinced that his empire could only flourish if the Church was at peace within itself. For him, unity meant uniformity,157 and Chalcedonian uniformity at that, if he were to have the support of both Rome and Constantinople.158 Although written in 551AD, his Confession of Faith surely reflects his feelings earlier on in his reign, after nearly eighty years of infighting between those who would accept Chalcedon and those who would not. It begins with these words: Nothing else can so honour the benevolent God as that all Christians should be one and the same in believing the true and faultless faith, and that there should be no divisions of opinion in the holy church of God . . . that those who are in conformity with the true faith may preserve it steadfastly, and that those who contend against it, perceiving the truth, may hasten to be united to the holy church of God.159 In reality, Justinian’s intention was probably as much political as religious: ‘To be a member of the Orthodox Church was to be a citizen of the Empire, and to be a citizen was to be a Christian; and so the participation in the Church’s most important service of worship was at the same time an 157

P.N. Ure, Justinian and his Age (Westport, Connecticut, 1979), p. 127 P.T.R. Gray, The Defense of Chalcedon in the East (451–553) (Leiden, 1979), pp. 52–3 159 PG 86(1).993C, D; A. Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition II.2, p. 474 158

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expression of social and political community.’160 Justinian, like his predecessor Justin, chose, as have so many others before and since, to enforce peace by violence. Yet a better way of achieving unity might have been found, had the emphasis not been on conformity to one particular Christology. The real tragedy was not that there were so many heresies, but that so much human suffering was caused by arguments over words. We cannot describe the nature of God in words.161 Consequently, we cannot prove that any one doctrinal system is true and that therefore all others are false. If we must use words, our only source of reference ought to be God’s own revelations of himself through the scriptures. Experience shows, however, that interpretations of the Bible are many and varied; support can be found for almost any position one chooses to take. We are at an impasse while we continue to believe that God is capable of being comprehended by the human mind, for the next step is to believe that we, as individuals, are in possession of the truth. Eunomius took this position to its limit: God does not know anything more about his own essence than we do, nor is that essence better known to him and less to us; rather, whatever we ourselves know about it is exactly what he knows, and, conversely, that which he knows is what you will find without change in us.162 Eunomius identified the divine essence with the Father alone.163 This of itself was sufficient to brand him a heretic, of course. But his claim that the human mind can know God sets a dangerous precedent. What is it, after all, but an extreme form of the self-confident assertion of any dogmatist who claims that his party has a monopoly of truth where divine matters are concerned? The Cappadocians developed apophatic theology as a defence against Eunomius and those like him. Since Ps-Dionysius felt the need to reaffirm their message in different terms, it would appear that the problem was still around and that the Fathers were not being heeded. The author of De Sectis lists heresies current in the sixth century: Arians, Manichaeans, Macedonians, Apollinarians, Nestorians, Eutychians, Monophysites.164 Due to lack of leadership, the Monophysites 160 G. Downey, Constantinople in the Age of Justinian (Norman, Oklahoma, 1960), pp. 117–8, quoted in A. Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition, p. 522 161 V. Lossky, The Mystical Theology of the Eastern Church (Cambridge, 1991), p. 34; MT 5; DN 1.1, 588A 162 Eunomius: The Extant Works, trans. R.P. Vaggione (Oxford, 1987), pp. 178–9 163 J. Meyendorff, Christ in Eastern Christian Thought, p. 93 164 PG 86(1).1193A–1268A

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became more and more fragmented. By the end of the sixth century, there were twenty or more Monophysite subgroups, each seeing itself as possessing the truth.165 Their nickname ‘akephaloi’ reflects their lack of a single overall leader. Some followed Severus, some Julian of Halicarnassus (the Aphthartodocetists), some Gaius, some Theodosius (the Agnoetai), some Philoponus.166 Then there were the Origenists. The church of the early sixth century was so fragmented that any hope of unity by peaceful means was unrealistic, unless it could be based on an understanding that the essential unknowability of God made it impossible for any one party to claim a monopoly of truth. There must be scope for a variety of interpretations. There is no shame in admitting ignorance in the face of the dazzling glory of God. Just as Moses encountered God only in the darkness,167 so also do we. Indeed Dionysius argues that to try to do otherwise, to stare directly into the blazing sun, so to speak, is sheer folly and arrogance,168 the very sin for which Satan was cast from heaven. We will not encounter God that way. It should now be apparent why Dionysius writes so carefully that his allegiance can be claimed by opposing parties such as Chalcedonians and Anti-Chalcedonians, Origenists and Orthodox. True church unity is not a matter of pigeon-holes. Insistence on everyone having the same beliefs, subscribing to the same creed, is not peace, but tyranny. If the leaders of the Church and of the Empire look to the angels for guidance, they will see that true dominion or authority is free of tyranny.169

5.7

Conclusion

The Dionysian corpus is presented in such a way that a superficial reading suggests a first century commentary by a Greek pagan with a solid background in Platonist philosophy, who has converted to Christianity. The author’s extensive knowledge of Greek literature and philosophy enables him to disguise a hidden agenda (or possibly several) beneath a veneer of late Neoplatonist language. The work is very carefully constructed; analysis of the structure of the treatises DN, CH and EH 165

J. Binns, Ascetics and Ambassadors of Christ (Oxford, 1996), p. 10 De Sectis 5, PG 86(1).1227C–1234B 167 Gregory of Nyssa, The Life of Moses I.42–6, ed. A.J. Malherbe and E. Ferguson (New York, 1978) 168 EH 2.III.3, 400A 169 CH 8.1, 237C–240A 166

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enables further clarification of the question of the order of the treatises intended by the author. The stilted and obscure language which he adopts (maybe intentional, or maybe an indication that he is not used to expressing himself in Greek) partially hides another persona: someone whose chief feeling for his unnamed opponent or opponents is that of contempt. Dionysius’ wide range of citations of the Fathers and of scripture is evidence of his own willingness to learn from others. His indebtedness to ‘Hierotheos’ is an open admission of this. Yet none of his authorities has the right to say ‘I know that God is like this’; ‘Do you need further proof to recognise the folly of those who pretend to know who God is?’;170 ‘But if, when I have shown you that God is unknowable to the Virtues on high, you persist in the discussion and continue to pretend to know it, how many times do you deserve to be thrown to the bottom of a pit for maintaining presumptuously that you know exactly something that remains invisible to all the incorporeal Virtues?’171 The information was not, of course, available to Chrysostom, so Dionysius needed to describe the ranks of the heavenly hierarchy in order to convey their magnitude to those who might otherwise be tempted to underestimate the distance between God and themselves. The Christological disputes of the fourth, fifth and sixth centuries all arose because churchmen and emperors took it upon themselves to ‘persist in the discussion and continue to pretend to know’ that which should remain hidden in silence. Dionysius’ teaching on the unknowability of God is not summa, as first appears, but polemic. Polemical passages are unevenly distributed. The Mystical Theology contains none at all; Divine Names and The Celestial Hierarchy contain a moderate amount, while The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy is heavily polemical, in spite of appearing to be a celebrant’s handbook. Polemic appears on more than one level. It appears as open criticism in the letters (but only in Letters 6–8, be it noted; a casual glance at the beginning or end of the collection of letters would fail to reveal any polemic). At the other end of the scale, and scattered throughout The Divine Names and the two hierarchies, are some innocuous-looking discourses which purport to be answers to questions posed by the author’s peers. In fact, all of these are related to his main concerns and are not digressions at all. Intermediate between these two classes of material is the main group containing criticism which would be clearly recognized as such 170 171

John Chrysostom, On the Incomprehensibility of God II, p. 156 John Chrysostom, On the Incomprehensibility of God III, pp. 168–9

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by the person or persons at whom it is directed. Dionysius was taking no chances; the message was intended to be understood by its intended recipients, no matter which part of the corpus they read, and on what level. The more deeply they studied the work, the more the message would be hammered home. A certain amount of disguise was therefore necessary to prevent the forgery from being detected, in order that the victim/s would take the bait. John Chrysostom used a similar device: I have wanted to say these things for a long time, but hesitated; I postponed it because I very much wanted those infected with this error to hear me with pleasure. Not wishing to scare away my prey, I forbade my tongue to commence the attack, in the thought that there will be time to unmask my offensive after I have completely mastered them.172 Who were Dionysius’ opponents? The repeated emphasis on keeping within one’s place in the hierarchy suggests rebellious monks of good education (logiwteroi ) who deny the relevance of church, clergy and ´ sacraments to the spiritual life. They are probably to be found within the Monophysite party; the anti-Chalcedonian thrust is not sufficiently focused for the central issue to be one of Mono- or Dyo-physitism. The author’s real venom appears to be directed at someone within his own camp. In classical Origenism, the position of a rational being in the overall scheme is related to that being’s use of free will. Consequently there is an emphasis on the development of personal qualities and devaluation of the importance of the concept of hierarchy. The author’s purpose in emphasizing the latter would make sense in an Origenist environment. Dionysius himself made use of the Origenist concept that divine revelation is conditional upon the capacity of the recipient, in order to demonstrate the necessity of both the angelic and ecclesiastical hierarchies. The threat of Origenist monks to church order was too serious to be ignored, particularly at a time of persecution, when the Monophysite party was already in danger of fragmentation from too much individualism. The return to God can only be brought about by a well-organized and stable church. Although his main opponents were determined individualists of the calibre of Stephen Bar Sudhaili (whom he probably did have in mind), anyone whose behaviour or beliefs threatened the smooth working of the hierarchy was a cause for concern. Mystics were a problem when they believed that their mystical experiences gave them an authority to which their ecclesiastical status 172

On the Incomprehensibility of God I (Paris, 1951), pp. 102–5

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did not entitle them. Dionysius therefore found it necessary to deny the validity of personal experiences as a means to knowledge of the divine nature, unless the recipient already had the status of a hierarch. God must be shown to be essentially unknowable, otherwise anyone could claim to possess, by one means or another, a knowledge which threatened the Church’s claim to be the only route to salvation. The author of the Dionysian corpus may well have had mystical experiences himself. It is not these, however, which allow status and union with God, but one’s position in the ecclesiastical hierarchy. Dionysius’ opponents are likely to include Origenist monks who claim that visions of heaven give an individual direct knowledge of divine truth, whatever his position in the church. Monks were not the only threat to harmony in the Church. Dionysius’ repeated references to the folly of ‘confusion’ are an indication of his conviction that true peace is inseparable from a generosity, on the part of those in a position of authority in a community, which safeguards the individuality of each of its members.173 No one is free of responsibility to those below them. This is true, not only of leaders of the Church, but also leaders of nations. If Dionysius is to be taken seriously in this respect, not even the Emperor Justinian is beyond criticism. It is no wonder that the author of the Dionysian corpus chose to remain anonymous. Polemical writing is always intended for immediate use: An author who writes under an assumed name wants to produce a certain effect in his own time; he will therefore circulate his work immediately, and if the first who read it regard it as genuine, the growth of its circulation will perhaps be more rapid than if it appeared under the real name of its author. Only where a book is inadvertently attributed to the wrong author because the real one is unknown, and without its author having any part in the mistake, will there be any delay before it begins to circulate.174 Although the first appearance of the Dionysian corpus in 532AD appears to be unconnected with the hidden agendas which I have uncovered, it is still most unlikely, in view of Zeller’s remarks on polemic quoted above, that Ps-Dionysius would have written much before 532AD. It is inconceivable that the Dionysian corpus was written as long before its first 173

DN 11.3, 952B–D E. Zeller, Vortrage und Abhandlungen (2nd ed., 1875), p. 336), quoted in G. Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism, p. 189 174

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public appearance as 510AD, as some have suggested. Even the mid-520s leaves too long a gap between writing and publishing, given the purpose of polemic. Establishment of the polemical nature of the corpus reinforces my earlier suggestion, in Chapter 4, that the work was commenced in about 527–9AD as a result of the accession of Justinian.

Chapter 6 Conclusion 6.1 6.1.1

Authorship of the Dionysian Corpus Was Dionysius an Origenist?

To categorize as an Origenist someone who lived during the first half of the sixth century is no simple matter, for Origenism cannot necessarily simply be equated at this time with holding the doctrines of Origen. The label ‘Origenist’ could be used for people holding a variety of theological positions. What they had in common was a high regard for the intellect, together with a flexible approach and a willingness to speculate.1 While the anathemas contained in the Imperial Edict of 543AD were almost entirely concerned with doctrines contained in Peri Archon, those of 553AD also contain references to doctrines which were promulgated, not by Origen himself, but by his followers Didymus the Blind and Evagrius.2 It was the latter in particular who developed Origen’s thought to the extent that it was regarded as heretical. Evagrius was influential in Syria well before the anathemas of 543AD. Philoxenus of Mabbugh, Jacob of Serugh and Sergius of Reshaina were all influenced by him, but remained free of criticism on doctrinal grounds by other Monophysites. The doctrines to which exception was taken in 543AD are contained in the first set of anathemas: I Whoever says or holds that the souls of men are pre-existent, that is to say that the intellects and holy powers fell, but afterwards, having become satiated with divine contemplation, they turned towards the 1 B. Daley, ‘What Did ‘Origenism’ Mean in the Sixth Century?’, Origeniana Sexta: Origen and the Bible (Leuven, 1995), pp. 627-638 2 A. Guillaumont, Les ‘Kephalaia Gnostica’ (Paris, 1962), pp. 136–43

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II Whoever says or holds that the soul of the Lord was pre-existent and that it was united with God the Word before his Incarnation and his birth by the Virgin, let him be anathema! III Whoever says or holds that the body of Our Lord Jesus Christ was first formed in the womb of the holy Virgin and that after that, God the Word and the soul were united on account of being pre-existent, let him be anathema! IV Whoever says or holds that the Word of God came to resemble all the celestial orders, becoming like a cherub to the cherubim, a seraph to the seraphim, in a word becoming like all the powers on high, let him be anathema! V Whoever says or holds that at the resurrection men will be raised with spherical bodies and does not acknowledge that we will be raised upright, let him be anathema! VI Whoever says or holds that the sky, sun, moon, stars, and waters above the firmament are animated and rational powers, let him be anathema! VII Whoever says or holds that the Saviour Christ will be crucified for demons in the world to come, as he has been for men, let him be anathema! VIII Whoever says or holds that the power of God is limited and that he has made only as many beings as he can embrace and conceive, or that creatures are co-eternal with God, let him be anathema! IX Whoever says or holds that the chastisement of demons and impious men is temporary and will have an end at a particular time, that is to say that there will be an apocatastasis of demons or impious men, let him be anathema!3 The Dionysian corpus contains no trace of any of these doctrines. On the contrary, his teaching that matter is not evil, but is the last echo of the divine,4 may be considered as a refutation of (I) and his teaching on 3 4

A. Guillaumont, Les ‘Kephalaia Gnostica’, pp. 140–41 DN 4.24–8, 725D–729B

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the human resurrection body may be directed at (V). Dionysius’ statement that demons are not evil by nature5 is certainly Evagrian.6 But he parts company with Origen over the Pre-mundane Fall; falling away from God is something that can only be done on earth. It happens when we deny our true selves7 or when we develop a love for material things rather than the things of God.8 The doctrine of Origen is impious in this respect because it implies (as in VIII) a limitation of the power of God to save whom he will. The story of the vision of Carpos9 illustrates that although we may fall from heaven as a result of choosing to sin, God has the power to raise us up again at any moment.10 Nevertheless there are indications that Dionysius was influenced by Origenist teachings.11 The most obvious instance is his oft-repeated assertion that God reveals divine knowledge to each mind in accordance with its capacity,12 although note that Ephrem also teaches this.13 So it may be as much a reflection of the use of the concept of âpinoÐai in Middle platonic and Neoplatonic philosophy as a sign of the influence of Origen. The system can only work, however, if gnosis is mediated through the hierarchy.14 If an individual attempts to reach up and take by force that to which he is not entitled, he will, like Lucifer, lose everything. What he receives depends on his place in the hierarchy, which is determined by merit.15 Clement of Alexandria followed Philo in having God at the head of the hierarchy, and the Logos below him,16 to give a threefold order of being: Level 1 God = the Good = the One; Level 2 the Logos + the Intelligible World; Level 3 the Sensible World.17 5

DN 4.23, 724C Kephalaia Gnostica IV.59 7 DN 8.6, 893B 8 DN 8.8, 896B–C 9 Ep. 8.6, 1097B–1100D 10 DN 1.3, 589B; DN 8.9, 897B 11 A.Golitzin, Et Introibo ad Altare Dei (Thessaloniki, 1994), pp. 270–83, 340–48 12 DN 1.1, 588A; EH 1.2, 373B; Ep. 8.2, 1092B 13 Ephrem the Syrian: Hymns, trans. K.E. McVey (New York, 1989), pp. 103, 362 14 EH 5.I.4, 504D–505A 15 Ep. 8.1, 1088D–1089A 16 R.M. Berchman, From Philo to Origen, Brown Judaic Studies 69 (Chico, California, 1984), p. 57 17 R.M. Berchman, From Philo to Origen, pp. 65–6 6

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Origen developed this into a threefold hierarchy of: Father Son/Christ/Logos Holy Spirit.18 This subordinationism was not criticized until the fourth century, when Arius brought it into disrepute with his teaching that there was a time when the Son was not. Dionysius makes it clear that he is against the Arian view: ‘Nor is it meant that he once was not.’19 The Son is certainly not created: ‘What he is from the beginning as an active divinity remains essentially unchanged’;20 ‘The transcendent has put aside its own hiddenness and has revealed itself to us by becoming a human being.’21 Origen also taught that the Son ‘had no need to change . . . for he remains unchanged in his essential being while he descends to take part in human affairs’.22 In so far as Dionysius’ Trinitarianism may be considered subordinationist, it is in an Origenist23 rather than an Arian sense. He does say that hierarchy is an image of the beauty of God;24 and if an image of the beauty of God, then it must also be an image of other aspects of God as well. In this case the Godhead must be triune in order to have a hierarchical structure, since everything else in heaven and on earth has a threefold structure. Dionysius may be emphasizing the correspondence between the structure of the Godhead and that of the angelic hierarchy.25 John of Scythopolis shows a development of this in his comment that all created things, including the angelic orders, ‘are images and likenesses of the divine Forms’.26 This subordinate position of the Son would explain Dionysius’ remark that Jesus relates directly to ‘those minds which have achieved the closest conformity to God’,27 that is, the angels: ‘We come closer to those beings who are superior to us. We imitate as much as we can their abiding, unwavering, and sacred constancy, and we thereby come to look up to the blessed and ultimately 18

R.M. Berchman, From Philo to Origen, pp. 118–23 DN 9.4, 912C 20 EH 4.III.10, 484A 21 Letter 3 22 Contra Celsum IV.14 23 G.L. Prestige, God in Patristic Thought (London, 1952), pp. 132–6 24 CH 3.2, 165B 25 S. Gersh, From Iamblichus to Eriugena (Leiden, 1978), pp. 167–8 26 PG 4.352A 27 EH 4.III.4, 480A 19

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divine ray of Jesus himself.’28 It is on account of Christ’s subordinate status that Origen condemns prayer to the Son, whose divinity is derived from that of the Father; only the Father is God in himself. Dionysius’ own reluctance to pray to Christ is consistent with Origenist sympathies. Since the Dionysian corpus was produced during the period of the resurgence of Origenism, it was vital for the success of the venture that the author should not be suspected of Origenist sympathies and that, if any such were to become apparent, that he should be anonymous. The studied ambiguity of Dionysius’ Trinitarianism make firm conclusions a little unwise – and this was probably his intention – but there are hints of subordinationism which are worth examining: We learn from the sacred scriptures that the Father is the originating source of the Godhead and that the Son and the Spirit are, so to speak, divine offshoots.29 These core lights of goodness grew from the incorporeal and invisible good and . . . in this sprouting they have remained inseparable from their co-eternal foundation in it, in themselves and in each other.30 [Jesus] . . . that outpouring of Light which . . . comes from the Father . . . We need to rise from this outpouring of illumination so as to come to the simple ray of light itself.31 Dionysius’ teaching that Jesus is an outpouring of light from the ‘simple ray of light’ which comes from the Father, through whose illumination we may come to a knowledge of the primal ray of God itself,32 may be an allusion to Origen’s image of Christ as the radiance of the eternal light of God, through which men ‘understand and experience what the light itself is. This radiance presents itself gently to the feeble eyes of mortal men and gradually trains and accustoms them, as it were, to endure the full blaze of the light.’33 The considerable difference in intensity and power between the ‘gentle radiance’ of Christ and the ‘full blaze’ of the light of the Father suggests a comparable difference in status between Father and Son: 28

EH 1.1,372B DN 2.7, 645B 30 MT 3, 1033A 31 CH 1.2, 121A 32 CH 1.2, 121A 33 Origen, De Principiis I.2.7 29

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist The Father exceeds the Saviour as much (or even more) as the Saviour himself and the Holy Spirit exceed the rest . . . But although the Saviour transcends in his essence, rank, power, divinity . . . and wisdom . . . nevertheless he is not comparable with the Father in any way. For he is an image of the goodness and brightness, not of God, but of God’s glory and of his eternal light; and he is a vapour, not of the Father, but of his power; and he is a pure emanation of God’s almighty glory . . . .34

In pagan Neoplatonism, Wisdom is in a subordinate position, being the third stage of emanation from the One. Christ’s identification with Wisdom would therefore seem to indicate subordinationism when used by someone as indebted to Neoplatonism as was Dionysius.35 Herein may lie the significance of Dionysius’ upper hierarchy of Seraphim, Cherubim and Thrones. They are all of equal status,36 even though Seraphim have the highest place, Cherubim the middle and Thrones the lowest. In the same way Father, Son and Spirit are equally divine in one sense, while existing hierarchically in another. Yet it is from Origen that Dionysius derives his threefold hierarchy, rather than from Neoplatonism. The stress laid on the unity and transcendence of God during the first three centuries of the Christian Era led inevitably to subordinationism being a characteristic of much, otherwise orthodox, teaching.37 Since Dionysius claims to be writing in the first century, there is no justification for demanding that he profess the Christological views of the fourth or fifth centuries. Dionysius’ strong emphasis on the importance of church structure and the sacraments is in contrast to Origenists such as Stephen Bar Sudhaili, for whom the sacraments are merely symbolic: ‘This material and bodily bread which is set upon the material altar is a kind of perceptible sign . . . a small and unworthy shadow – of that glorious Bread which is above the heavens . . . ’.38 Although there is a suggestion of this Origenist attitude 34 Origen, Commentary on John 13.151–3, trans. R.E. Heine (Washington, DC, 1993); see also Evagrius, Commentary on Ps 20: ‘God is the crown of Christ, and Christ is the crown of the spiritual nature’, quoted in F. Refoule, ‘La Christologie d’Evagre et l’Origenisme’, Orientalia Christiana Periodica 27 (1961): 244 35 S. Gersh, From Iamblichus to Eriugena, pp. 262–4,286 36 CH 6.2, 201A 37 Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, ed. F.L. Cross and E.A. Livingstone (Oxford, 1997), p. 1552 38 Book of the Holy Hierotheos iii.7, p. 80

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to the sacraments,39 in Dionysius,40 the reverence with which he describes the celebration of the Eucharist belies it. When the bishop emerges from the sanctuary with the chalice, he ‘offers Jesus Christ to our view’.41 The emergence from the hiddenness of the sanctuary into the church full of people is a symbol of ‘how out of love for humanity Christ emerged from the hiddenness of his divinity to take on human shape’, but it is no less real on that account. Dionysius never says that it is only a symbol, as Bar Sudhaili does. Even he, however, gives the sacraments their rightful place: A material and bodily sacrament is right for those who walk according to the body; and when the question is asked, whether those Minds which have been accounted worthy to receive and to give the spiritual sacrament still need the bodily sacrament, I . . . would say that those who have been initiated by water have yet to be made perfect, and those who are in the body must also receive bodily nourishment.42 So the material sacraments, whether ‘merely’ symbolic or not, are still essential stepping stones to perfection. Just as the paintings on the archway dividing the sanctuary from the nave (instead of an iconostasis, in Syrian churches)43 are dismissed as suitable only as visual aids for the uninitiated,44 nevertheless, ‘it is by way of the perceptible images that we are uplifted as far as we can be to the contemplation of what is divine’.45 Dionysius’ apparent neglect of asceticism may have similar thinking behind it. It will take us just so far, but ‘the practice of the commandments will purify only the passible element of the soul’.46 The life of spiritual contemplation is superior because it purifies the gnostic part of the soul.47 This is Evagrian, of course: Torment purifies the passible part of the soul.48 Nevertheless, asceticism is still a good practice. ˆ is Dionysius’ attitude to the work of Christ is Evagrian, in that his role primarily that of a teacher.49 Jesus’ function is to pass on what he has 39 Shenoute, ‘Exhortation against the Origenists’, in E.A. Clark, The Origenist Controversy (Princeton New Jersey, 1992), p. 157 40 CH 1.3, 124A; R. Roques, L’Univers Dionysien (Paris, 1954), pp. 267–9 41 EH 3.III.13, 444C 42 HH iii.7, pp. 80–81 43 ˜ The Christian Art of Byzantine Syria (Reading, 1997), p. 76 I. Pena, 44 EH 3.III.2, 428C 45 EH 1.2, 373B 46 Sergius of Reshaina, On the Spiritual Life LXXVI 47 Sergius of Reshaina, On the Spiritual Life LXXVIII 48 Kephalaia Gnostica III.18 49 H.U. von Balthasar, ‘The Metaphysics and Mystical Theology of Evagrius’, Monastic

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received from the Father. He is, as Evagrius puts it, both testator and beneficiary, while the Father is solely a testator.50 Just as Dionysius does not pray to the angels, so he does not pray to Christ. Although great effort has been expended in hiding his true allegiance, his whole thrust is towards the Evagrian insistence that one must strive to pass beyond the corporeal Christ, who is only an intermediary stage to the ultimate goal.51 It is no surprise that Dionysius has no interest in atonement, for he has little interest in hell. For Origen himself, the purpose of hell was correction rather than retribution.52 Ultimately it was for the benefit of the sinner, rather than for the satisfaction of God’s justice or vengeance, and it must therefore have an end. This is the subject of anathema IX. Bar Sudhaili also teaches an end to hell, not just for each individual, but also at the apocatastasis, when all rational beings will be equal to Christ: All Things are destined to be commingled in the Father; nothing perishes and nothing is destroyed, nothing is annihilated; All returns, All is sanctified, All is made One, All is commingled, and the Word is fulfilled which was said, ‘God shall be all and in all.’ Hells shall pass, and torments shall be done away; prisoners shall be released; for even reprobates are absolved, and outcasts return, and those that are far off are brought near; and chastisement ceases, my son, and the Scourger scourges not, and the Judge shall judge no more, . . . for Demons receive grace, and men receive mercy; and Angels minister not, and Seraphs consecrate no more and Thrones keep not their primacy; for the Orders that are above pass away, and the distinctions that are below are abolished, and Everything becomes One Thing: for even God shall pass, and Christ shall be done away, and the Spirit shall no more be called the Spirit, for names pass away and not Essence.53 Meanwhile, a man may become equal to Christ at the Second Baptism, when he is given the power to consecrate others as he has been consecrated: Christ is no longer Christ, my son, when the Mind attains to these things, because the Mind is Christ: for to Christ it pertains Studies 3 (1965): 91–2, n. 15a; CH 7.3, 209B; EH 3.III.2, 428C 50 Kephalaia Gnostica IV.78 51 KG II.22 52 De Principiis II.10.6 53 HH v.2, p. 133

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to consecrate, but if the Mind also consecrates, then it also is Christ, and must become Perfecter and Consecrator of those who need to be perfected and consecrated.54 For lo, the very name of Christ is a sign to us, as it were, of that-which-anoints and him-who-is-anointed, for of necessity, anointer and anointed were not one but two; but if there is a stage when the Mind will not be counted with the Good as two, it is necessary for us, therefore, to abandon also the name of Christ.55 Herein lies the significance of the myron for Dionysius. He obviously does not wish to be explicit, but Chapter 4 of the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy (which, significantly, is the central chapter of the seven) contains more than a mere hint that he speaks the same language as Bar Sudhaili and Sergius of Reshaina. I shall take this point up when I look again at Sergius shortly. His main disagreement with the Origenists concerns the metamorphosis of angels, demons and the souls of men. It is to prevent this that his two hierarchies are designed as static structures. As for Bar Sudhaili, the purpose of the hierarchy is ultimately to purify, sanctify and unite rational minds with each other and with God. ‘There can be no unification without one who sanctifies and purifies and cleanses and unites.’56 That is, without the individual members of the hierarchy, ‘Having sacredly beheld whatever can be seen, enlightened by the knowledge of what we have seen, we shall then be able to be consecrated and consecrators of this mysterious understanding. Formed of light, initiates in God’s work, we shall be perfected and bring about perfection.’57 Then we shall be like Christ.58 Dionysius’ thinking reflects Origenist teachings on the Trinity and on the work of Christ, although his treatment of the latter owes more to Evagrius than to Origen himself. In this respect he is typical of sixth century Origenists. Adherence to the movement implied a questioning, intellectual approach, rather than agreement with a specified set of beliefs.59 His major disagreement with other Origenists is over the doctrine of the pre-existence of souls; Dionysius replaces the Evagrian ascent of the logikoi by a Neoplatonic cycle of procession and return. 54

HH iii.7, p. 80 HH iv.20, p. 120 56 HH ii.18, p. 40 57 EH 1.1, 372B 58 DN 1.4, 592B–C 59 B. Daley, ‘The Origenism of Leontius of Byzantium’, JTS, ns 27 (1976): 366–9 55

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist

Sergius of Reshaina

There are a number of striking similarities between Sergius of Reshaina’s treatise On the Spiritual Life and the Dionysian corpus: 1)

– The knowledge of Jesus ‘is hidden while being manifest; and, though known, remains secret’. (Sergius, On the Spiritual Life LXXXII) – ‘The Transcendent has put aside its own hiddenness and has revealed itself to us by becoming a human being. But he is hidden even after this revelation or, if I may speak in a more divine fashion, is hidden even amid the revelation. For this mystery of Jesus remains hidden and can be drawn out by no word or mind.’ (Dionysius, Ep. 3)

2) Frequent use of the phrases ‘as far as possible’, ‘according to our ability’ and similar. – ‘. . . the knowledge of all things and of God, as far as possible’. (Sergius, On the Spiritual Life IV) – ‘We will now speak, according to our ability, of each of these parts separately . . . ’ (Sergius, On the Spiritual Life V) – ‘We will explain briefly, according to our ability, and as far as time permits, the reason for our account being suitably divided up by us, and how the divisions and distinctions have appeared to us.’ (Sergius, On the Spiritual Life LXIX) – ‘. . . and as far as is permitted, towards the sublime splendour of the hidden divinity’. (Sergius, On the Spiritual Life LXXIX) Similar examples in the Dionysian corpus are too frequent to enumerate, but DN 7.3, 869D–887A is typical (although this is a trait shared by other Origenists): ‘We therefore approach that which is beyond all, as far as our capacities allow us . . . ’. 3)

– ‘The end of all knowledge . . . is not knowledge, but rather an ignorance which is superior to knowledge, because it leads to this hidden Essence which is known only in ignorance.’ (Sergius, On the Spiritual Life LXXX) – ‘But the secret and hidden sight of the intelligence which leads as far as is possible for it, by a certain distant resemblance to these natures, to the inaccessible splendour of the Essence, which is called simply “divine contemplation”.’ (Sergius, On the Spiritual Life LXXXI)

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– ‘And when it [the intellect] has progressed further and has divinely pursued the spiritual contemplation of all rational natures, then it will be carried from thence and lifted towards this sublime knowledge which will never pass away or perish, which is the knowledge of the hidden Essence.’ (Sergius, On the Spiritual Life CXII) If the word Essence is removed, we have here the central theme of the Mystical Theology: that in order to approach the God who dwells in unapproachable light, we must ‘deny all things so that we may unhiddenly know that unknowing which itself is hidden from all those possessed of knowing amid all beings, so that we may see above being that darkness concealed from all the light among beings’.60 4) Both men refer much more frequently to ‘Jesus’ than to ‘Christ’. Excluding quotations from the Bible, Dionysius refers to Jesus 46 times and Christ 23 times; for Sergius this is 13 and 9 respectively. Both Sergius and Dionysius associate Jesus with anointing rather than with atonement. Chapter 4 of the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy, which treats of the consecration of the myron, seems disproportionately long, until one realizes that the ointment is a symbol for Jesus. Having been consecrated himself, he is then able to consecrate us in turn, ‘he who in human form received the sanctification of the divine Spirit for us . . . arranges now for the gift to us of the divine Spirit’.61 This transference of sanctification is effected by means of the cross, symbolized by the pouring of myron into the baptismal water in the shape of a cross: ‘For it is on Jesus himself, our most divine altar, that there is achieved the divine consecration of intelligent beings.’62 By dying willingly, Jesus in effect consecrates himself and thus offers to us whatever was given to him.63 Sergius of Reshaina’s ˆ of Jesus is that of life-giver (mchyn’). most common description of the role Anointing is equated with giving birth to new life: ‘Consecration with the ointment completes the perfecting gift and grace of the divine birth.’64 In the Syrian tradition, baptism could take place without water if necessary, but never without the oil.65 Dionysius and Sergius share an Evagrian understanding of anointing; it signifies the knowledge of Unity: ‘Spiritual 60

MT 2, 1025B EH 4.III.11, 484C 62 EH 4.III.12, 484D 63 EH 4.III.12, 485A 64 EH 4.III.10, 484B 65 Canons of John of Tella 30, in T.J. Lamy, ed., Dissertatio de Syrorum Fide et Disciplina in Re Eucharistica, p. 85 61

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anointing is the spiritual knowledge of holy Unity, and Christ is he who is united to this knowledge . . . he who is anointed was not God beforehand, but through it becomes Christ . . . ’.66 This is equivalent to Bar Sudhaili’s Second Baptism. For Evagrius, the process may be brought about by ascesis.67 This was probably true for Bar Sudhaili also, since he had a reputation for holiness: ‘O pious man, hasten thy course after excellent things . . . Let not the good thou hast done dwell upon thy mind, lest it prevent thee from doing what thou still hast to do.’68 That the most complete knowledge of God comes through unknowing69 is common to both writers. The thought of the two works, the Dionysian corpus and Sergius of Reshaina’s On the Spiritual Life fuses and overlaps. By the time of his death, Sergius seems to have become disenchanted with the Monophysite party. In any case, his allegiance to any one group never seems to have been quite certain. This would have made him an ideal person to write in the ambiguous style required by ‘Dionysius the Areopagite’. The Nestorian Joseph Hazzaya and modern scholars Hausherr, Hornus, von Balthasar and Roques all suspected him of its authorship, but did not work on the problem in detail. Hazzaya70 complains that some teachings that we attribute to Dionysius were actually the work of Sergius: Scribes, especially those who translate from one language to another, often interpolate the divine books, and the most celebrated interpolator is that writer who translated the book of Mar Dionysius. As wicked as he was wise, he changed the passages in the divine books to his own profit. Hazzaya was clear which passages these were. Furthermore, he claims that it was Sergius who was responsible for the elevated style in Syriac. Rorem and Lamoreaux dismiss this, on account of the same elevated style being found in the Greek original. Of course, if Sergius was the author as well as the translator, he would ensure a similar style in the two languages. Ps-Dionysius’ knowledge of alchemy, magic and theurgy, in which we know Sergius was involved, is a further pointer to Sergius’ authorship. 66 KG IV.18; Commentary on Ps 88, in F. Refoule, ‘La Christologie d’Evagre et l’Origenisme’, p. 247 67 F. Refoule, ‘La Christologie d’Evagre et l’Origenisme’, pp. 251–5 68 Letter from Jacob of Serugh to Stephen Bar Sudhaili, A.L. Frothingham, Stephen Bar Sudhaili (Leiden, 1886), p.25; the letter has been re-edited by G. Olinder in CSCO 110/Syr 57, 2nd series XLV (Paris, 1937). 69 DN 7.3, 872A–B 70 P. Rorem and J.C. Lamoreaux, John of Scythopolis and the Dionysian Corpus (Oxford, 1998), pp. 107–8

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Although Dionysius may once have subscribed to ‘classical’ Origenist doctrines, he seemed to have turned against what he saw as the impiety and pride of believing that one can attain to a knowledge of the secret things of God by one’s own efforts, or that man can raise himself to the status of an angel, either by means of ascetic practices or by such routes as the system of Stephen Bar Sudhaili. As the writings of Philoxenus and the commentators on Merkabah and Hekhaloth mysticism show, mystical experiences can be produced by means of ascetic practices such as prolonged fasting and sleep deprivation. One technique used by Jewish mystics was to ‘fast a certain number of days, place his head between his knees, and very softly repeat hymns and canticles . . . Then, he is drawn into the inner world and perceives the dwellings, as though he were seeing the seven palaces with his own eyes . . . ’.71 With the hindsight of modern medical knowledge, it is easy to look back with disdain on such attempts to produce disturbances in brain function by means of deliberate reduction of blood glucose and oxygen. Perhaps the foolishness of expecting genuine truth to come from such a source would at that time have been evident only to a doctor or other observer of human physiology. Dionysius’ remark, All nourishment gives completion to the one being nourished. It makes up for whatever there is in him of incompletion and insufficiency. It supplies a remedy for his weakness and watches over his life, making it blossom and revive. It gives his life pleasure. In short, it does away with pain and with imperfection, giving him joy and completion,72 sounds more like a physician than a monk speaking. Sergius of Reshaina was a physician of some eminence. That Sergius of Reshaina is the author of the Dionysian corpus is a suggestion which should be reconsidered.

6.2 6.2.1

Significance of the Dionysian Corpus Dionysius’ Purpose and Method

The author of the Dionysian corpus had reasons for wishing to remain anonymous during the late 520s. His Origenist background 71 G. Scholem, Jewish Gnosticism, Merkabah Mysticism and Talmudic Tradition (New York, 1960), pp. 62–3, 76 72 Ep. 9.2, 1109A

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and sympathies, and his unwillingness to subscribe exclusively to the doctrines of any one party, may have led him to fear that his voice would not be heard. He may also not have wished his other activities to be compromised by a known connection with the corpus. Yet the message that he had for the world was so important that a way had to be found to ensure that it was listened to without prejudice. A pseudonym of some sort was obviously necessary. It would naturally be unwise to use the name of any of the Greek Fathers; as we saw in Chapter 4, such a practice had already been brought into disrepute. Synesius of Cyrene may have been an inspiration to him, combining as he did paganism and Christianity. The Chaldaean Oracles and Neoplatonist mystical writings had been an influence on Synesius also, and he had not been rejected on this account. The author of the Mystical Theology had surely read his hymns: ‘Established above the peaks of heaven, God sits steadfast . . . and the super-essential source is crowned by the beauty of children springing forth from the centre and flowing back . . . ’.73 The ideal identity to adopt would be that of a one-time pagan philosopher who had become a Christian bishop. This would give his work the necessary authority. Dionysius the Areopagite was an inspired choice. No writings bearing his name had survived to conflict with the teachings which the Dionysian corpus would contain. The connection with St Paul would ensure that no suspicion of heterodoxy would be cast by the underlying Platonism. On the contrary, it might prove a justification, both for the author’s own Neoplatonist beliefs and for his Origenism. I am assuming here that he was a good enough historian to realize that his own beliefs about the person of Christ and the transcendence of God were not inconsistent with such an identity. For this to work, however, it was necessary to ensure that he had an adequate scriptural foundation for his teaching and that he could not be accused of inventing new doctrines, like Stephen Bar Sudhaili. For this purpose, anything which could not be linked to Scripture had to be attributed to a trusted teacher of outstanding intellect, namely Hierotheus. Although much is owed to Proclus, Evagrius seems a more likely candidate for the part, considering the Origenism of the author. The Kephalaia Gnostica surely fits the description, in DN 3.2, 681B, of a book of such an advanced nature as to be incomprehensible without explanation. Evagrius and Dionysius both have a deliberately ambiguous style. Sergius of Reshaina translated the Kephalaia Gnostica into Syriac, and so was well 73

Hymn 1, J. Bregman, Synesius of Cyrene (Berkeley, California, 1982), pp. 30–31

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enough acquainted with its concepts. This is not to say that Evagrius exactly fits the description of Hierotheus; such a person probably never existed. Evagrius, however, is undoubtedly an important influence who has not been considered as the inspiration for Hierotheus. In an appeal to the authority of the Bible, interpreted according to the Alexandrian method of exegesis, Dionysius linked the hierarchy of the Syrian church with the hierarchy of the angels, of which the Church on earth is a reflection. If we cannot model ourselves on God, either Father or Son, then we can at least look to the angels for guidance on how to behave. In spite of his protestations that we must not try to imagine the shapes or forms of the angels, Dionysius is surprisingly anthropomorphic when it comes to their personal qualities. The Thrones74 and Dominions75 are free of any concern for material things; the Powers are courageous and energetic;76 the Authorities77 are peace-loving and free of tyranny towards their subordinates. These are clearly qualities which he sees as essential to the unity of the Church. As has been argued, these exhortations appear to be directed at the clergy: bishops, priests, and maybe deacons. For monks, on the other hand, the most important quality is that of humility. Sergius of Reshaina has the explanation for the teaching, fundamental to himself and the Dionysian corpus, that God may best be known in ignorance. His starting point is the beatitude, ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.’78 Just as Our Lord was rich, but made himself poor for our sakes,79 so do holy and learned men who make themselves poor in spirit, by lowering themselves from their own educational status to that of those whose knowledge of the Word is like that of children, find themselves blessed with abundance.80 This they do out of love, that those who have nothing may be raised to their own position: And out of love he has come down to be at our level of nature and has become a being. He, the transcendent God, has taken on the name of man . . . and he has come to join us in what we are . . . .81 74

CH 7.1, 205D CH 8.1, 237C 76 CH 8.1, 237D–240A 77 CH 8.1, 240A–B 78 Mt. 5.3 79 2 Cor. 8.9 80 Sergius of Reshaina, On the Spiritual Life XCIII 81 DN 2.10, 648D 75

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To those who follow in his footsteps by making themselves voluntarily poor intellectually, he has promised the reward of the Kingdom of Heaven, ‘that is to say, the contemplation of the Spirit, and the exalted and accurate knowledge of all the essences and celestial powers’.82 Just as Christ: by his resemblance to us, lifts us gradually until he draws us up to his height, similarly all the doctors of the truth who follow his example humble themselves, make themselves poor and lower themselves towards the souls who are prisoners of ignorance and captives of the poverty of error. First they resemble them by their ignorance; and when they have outwardly shared in their ignorance then, little by little, by the economy of their divine knowledge, they help to raise them up.83 One is reminded of the descent of Jesus from heaven to raise the two sinners from the brink of the abyss in the vision of Carpos.84 Dionysius’ message, that he who humbles himself will be exalted, while he who seeks to climb to heaven of his own accord will be thrown down, may not simply be about spiritual states. The Jewish myth of Sar Torah has a similar theme: The angels said: ’Do not let this secret go forth from your treasuries, this hidden cunning from your storehouses. Do not make flesh and blood equal to us, do not put human beings on our level . . . If you reveal this secret to your children, the small will be like the great, the fool like the wise man.’85 Halperin suggests that the real issue in the Sar Torah was not between human beings and angels, but between different groups of people, with the angels standing for privileged groups whose claim to authority rested on their scholarship. This may also be true of the Dionysian situation, set in an environment of power struggles between Greek and Syrian, Orthodox and Monophysite, clergy and monks, educated and uneducated. Although Dionysius himself, purportedly a highly educated Greek-speaking bishop, represents the group with the most power, his real target seems to be educated people like himself. It could scarcely 82

Sergius of Reshaina, On the Spiritual Life XCV Sergius of Reshaina, On the Spiritual Life XCVI 84 Ep. 8.6, 1100A–C 85 Section 292; D.J. Halperin, The Faces of the Chariot, Texte und Studien zum Antiken ¨ Judentum 6, (Tubingen, 1988), p. 437 83

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be otherwise, when the obscurity of his language and the complexity of his thought renders him unintelligible to so many. Beneath the surface, however, lies a tapestry of codes and allusions whose meaning can be detected by those for whom they are intended, and by others who belong to the same group as himself.

6.2.2

Relevance for Spirituality Today

Many people today value membership of the Church and the ethical standards of Christianity, but find the divinity of Jesus a stumbling-block. This is particularly true for those with no formal church background. In addition, over-exposure to an emotional Christocentricity has alienated many, resulting in an instinctive revulsion against what they see as idolatry. A widespread need is felt for Hick’s ‘Copernican Revolution’ where God, rather than Christ, is at the centre.86 Christ may still be very real to the believer, but ‘the misrepresentation of Christ by the Church has a very deep and important bearing upon the responsibility of those who in different ages have seemed to themselves to find no way of being true to Christ but by being rebels against the Church’.87 As the growth of the Sea of Faith and other such networks bears witness, an increasing number of those inside the churches are feeling uncomfortable about the insistence on subscribing to the literal truth of Christian dogma. There are also many men and women who find the so-called ‘patriarchal’ language of the Christian tradition, especially the insistence on referring to God as ‘He’, offensive and excluding. Paradoxically, perhaps, there is at the same time an increased interest in prayer, spirituality and meditation, which is unconnected to any specific religious denomination or church. In spite of their claim to be faithful to Scripture, it is difficult to find biblical justification for the common Evangelical belief that those who long to lead good lives among like-minded people in a church milieu, but who cannot accept traditional Christology, are inevitably consigned to eternal damnation. This is not the only form of Christianity, however. An alternative is the Eastern Orthodox one: Salvation according to Orthodox theology is not the state of ‘I have arrived. I have made it. I am saved.’ Rather, it is the state of ‘I am on the way. I am moving. I am growing in God, for 86 J. Hick, God and the Universe of Faiths (London, 1973), p. 131; A. Race, Christians and Religious Pluralism (London, 1983), pp. 82, 103 87 C. Gore, Orders and Unity (London, 1909), p. 68

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Pseudo-Dionysius as Polemicist God, with God, and through the power of God’ . . . and it can never be achieved fully in this life.88 Many people may be members of the Church who are not visibly so; invisible bonds may exist despite an outward separation. The Spirit of God blows where it will, and, as Irenaeus said, where the Spirit is, there is the Church. We know where the Church is but we cannot be sure where it is not . . . There is only one Church, but there are many different ways of being related to this one Church, and many different ways of being separated from it.89 What is our attitude as Christians to those who are the enemies of Christ, who hate him, who reject him and those who are Godless, not only because they have not yet met God, but because they have met a caricature of God, whom we have presented them with in the name of God Himself? We must realise that we stand before the judgement of those who reject God because of us, and that Christ is not alien to them, and they are not outside Him, they are not alien to Him. There is a mystery of salvation far beyond the Church, far beyond our experience, far beyond our understanding.90

This is in line with the thinking of Ps-Dionysius in several respects: firstly, the warning against worshipping an idolatrous image of God,91 secondly, Christ’s compassion for the very wanderers whom zealous fundamentalists would condemn. To the Demophilus of today, indignant towards those whose faith does not match up to his own standards, He still says: So your hand is raised up and I now am the one you must hit. Here I am, ready once again to suffer for the salvation of man and I would very gladly endure it if in this way I could keep men from sin. Look to yourself. Maybe you should be living with the serpents in the pit rather than with God and with the good angels who are the friends of man.92 88

A.M. Coniaris, Introducing the Orthodox Church: Its Faith and Life (Minneapolis, Minnesota, 1982), pp. 48–50 89 T. Ware, The Orthodox Church (Harmondsworth, 1984), p. 316 90 A. Bloom, ‘Man and God’, The Essence of Prayer (London, 1986), pp. 258–9 91 DN 1.2, 588C 92 Ep. 8.6, 1100C–D

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No living being is outside of God, ‘who dwells indivisibly in every individual’.93 Consequently, it is impossible for anyone to be separated from God permanently. Does salvation, then, have no meaning? What is man saved from, if not from sin and Hell? Dionysius’ answer is that salvation takes many forms, according to the capacity of each individual, and its exact modus operandi cannot be defined by us.94 And yet acceptance of Universalism appears to deny to Christ any real power to save.95 This is true only if salvation is limited to an emotional and intellectual acceptance of the dogma that the Son took flesh in order to die on the cross for our sins. The conception of Jesus as teacher and example is bypassed. So we must now ask the question: ‘Do we know that God will only save those who are believers in the doctrine of the Atonement?’ Do we know, for that matter, that God is a He, and not a She or an It? Dionysius’ One is neuter. In fact, no one of these personal pronouns is adequate; one would need all the names in creation to name God.96 An acceptance of Dionysius’ premise that the nature of God is unknowable in itself gives just one answer – and that is that we do not know. The churches of today would do well to take heed of this. Unlike a great many writers on spirituality from the Middle Ages onwards, Dionysius is not at all Christocentric. In this respect he is a true Origenist: ‘It is a foolish error they commit who pray to the Son, whether with the Father or apart from the Father: an error arising from excessive simplicity and due to a lack of examination and enquiry. Let us therefore address supplications to the Father as God.’97 He does admittedly call upon Jesus in two places,98 but Jesus is not the goal; he is called on to assist in achieving something else, rather as one might call on Mary or the saints. In the first instance, his aid in invoked to raise the level of contemplation, first to the scriptures, then to the angels, and finally to the Father.99 In the second instance, Jesus is invoked to inspire the author in his description of the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy.100 Dionysius’ non-Christocentricity would undoubtedly worry those 93

DN 2.11, 649C DN 8.9, 897A 95 P. Helm, ‘Are they few that be saved?’, Universalism and the Doctrine of Hell, ed. N.M. de S. Cameron (Carlisle, 1992), p. 259 96 D. Turner, The Darkness of God: Negativity in Christian Mysticism (Cambridge, 1995), pp. 24–6 97 Origen, De Oratione 14–16, in The Early Christian Fathers, ed. H. Bettenson (Oxford, 1969), p. 238 98 CH 1.2, 121A–B; EH 1.2, 373B 99 CH 1.2, 121A–B 100 EH 1.2, 373B 94

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Christians today for whom a prayer is not complete unless it contains the words ‘in the name of your Son, our saviour Jesus Christ’, or similar. However, to such objections Dionysius might make two points in reply: 1) True prayer is wordless. To reach the Summit we must leave behind, even the name of Christ, ‘to leave behind everything perceived and understood, everything perceptible and understandable, all that is not and all that is’.101 ‘The Father will pass, and the Son will pass, but the Essence will remain.’102 2) Like the father of the prodigal son, God hurries to meet any who begin to take a step towards him.103 The divine light never ceases to offer itself,104 even to those who turn away from it: ‘To those who fall away it is the voice calling ‘Come Back!’ and it is the power which raises them up again . . . It is the guide bringing upward those uplifted to it.’105 We should not put linguistic barriers in the way of someone who is taking a first tentative step towards salvation. Another advantage of a subordinationist Trinitarianism is that it avoids confusion between God and the means by which he is approached. Dionysius combines such a Trinitarianism with a willingness to include elements of other faiths: Theurgy, Neoplatonism, Hermeticism, Gnosticism. Since Christianity can no longer be justified in claiming an exclusivist monopoly of the truth, such incorporation of elements of, say, Islam, Buddhism and Hinduism can only be enriching.106 This is not the place for a discussion on whether or not mystical experiences in different religious traditions have a ‘common core’, except to add that it is difficult to see how it can be proved that ineffable experiences are different from each other.107 Consequently, it cannot be proved that religions other than Christianity are not also ways to God. Christians often argue that inclusivism is a watering down of faith. Dionysius shows, on the other hand, that too rigid a conception of faith is in fact idolatry, which is worse. Passionate clinging to a God of whom one has a definite conception may be of less value than a more temperate faith in a God of whom one can form no conception. 101

MT 1.1, 997B The Book of the Holy Hierotheos, V.3, p. 136 103 Ep. 8, 1088A 104 EH 2.III.3, 400A 105 DN 1.3, 589B–C 106 M.F. Wiles, Explorations in Theology 4, quoted in A. Race, Christians and Religious Pluralism, (London, 1983), p. 76 107 C.J. Arthur, In the Hall of Mirrors (Oxford, 1986), p. 103 102

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There is no doubt of Dionysius’ conviction that without the Church there can be no return to the One. Those who are concerned about their own salvation may not opt out of church membership, discipline, and sacraments. The Church, in its turn, may have to accept that our duty is not so much to believe any specified doctrine about Christ, or about God, but to reject evil and, in striving for union with God, to live one’s life in conformity to that of Christ.

6.3

Summary

Although frequently claimed as the inventor of the ninefold angelic hierarchy arranged in three groups of three orders,108 Ps-Dionysius developed it from existing Syrian angelologies. Since it has a central place in his thought, it follows that his angelic hierarchy was developed specifically to tackle a problem which existed in the church of his day; a problem, moreover, with which none of the writings of the Church Fathers was so far equipped to cope. Christological disputes at the time of writing were the single most important cause of disunity in the Church. The Monophysite party was particularly unfortunate in this respect, divided as it was into numerous sub-groups, each accusing the others of heresy. Riven as it was by dissension and political intrigue, and distressed by persecution, the church of the early sixth century was in sore need of a theological authority to whom to appeal. The Monophysites had turned in the past to Cyril of Alexandria for support,109 but even he was also claimed by the opposition in support of their views.110 As for the scriptures, the longstanding dispute between Antiochene and Alexandrian exegetes meant that there was no agreement here either. What was needed was an authority of the apostolic or sub-apostolic period who just happened to address the problems of the sixth century! Care needed to be taken here, because the Monophysites were already suspected of producing forgeries in defence of their arguments.111 The work had to be produced anonymously, since no Monophysite theologian would be accepted by the Chalcedonians, or vice versa. Any overt admission of the author’s Origenism would also have been a disadvantage at the time of writing, which is likely to have been 108

J. Meyendorff, Christ in Eastern Christian Thought (Crestwood, NY, 1987), p. 102 The Sixth Book of the Select Letters of Severus I.53, ed. E.W. Brooks (London, 1903–4) p. 157; A. Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition II.2, p. 21 110 A. Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition, pp. 22–3 111 A. Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition, pp. 238–9, 326 109

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between 527 and 529AD. The accession of Justinian is of some relevance here. St Paul had apparently suspected that a preoccupation with the minutiae of the life of Jesus was a stumbling block to unity.112 Dionysius went still further and more or less eliminated the Incarnation, Cross and Atonement as well. Whenever we claim that we have established facts concerning such things, we sow the seeds of discord. Belief then becomes a barrier to union, both with each other and with God. If only Christians would admit the impossibility of knowing exactly what God is like, church unity might yet be feasible. Christological issues apart, Dionysius was well aware that problems were being caused by greed, harshness and lack of generosity among bishops and other clergy.113 They needed to know that what they possessed was only theirs because it was handed down to them from above, and that the system would only work so long as they handed it down in their turn to their subordinates.114 They were merely a link in a chain,115 and a chain is only as strong as its weakest link. Since the Church on earth is a mirror of the Church in heaven,116 the latter therefore needed to be described in some detail so that the church on earth could see what it ought to be like. Only the angels could receive knowledge of God direct from the Source.117 Any human being who claims to know God commits the sin of pride, which is a cardinal sin for Dionysius, placing as he does great emphasis on the importance of humility. Those who claim to have received a personal revelation of God by means of a mystical or visionary experience may well regard this as its own validation of their beliefs, regardless of agreement with the teachings of the Church.118 Their relationship with God may then become independent of their relationship with the Church. The risk of schism is always present unless they are firmly established as part of, and under the authority of, the Church. This was primarily a problem with monks, particularly those who were well educated and wished to think for themselves, and those who had rejected the institution of the Church along 112

2 Cor. 5.14–16 CH 8.1, 237C–240A; Ep. 8, 1088C 114 CH 3.3, 165D–168A; EH 5.7, 513C–D 115 DN 3.1, 680C 116 CH 1.3, 121C–124A 117 CH 4.2–3, 180A–181A; K.P. Wesche, ‘Christological Doctrine and Liturgical Interpretation in Pseudo-Dionysius’, St Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly 33.1 (1989): 64 118 I.M. Lewis, Ecstatic Religion (Harmondsworth, 1971), p. 18 113

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with the world, out of disgust at the failings of its ministers.119 However, those at the top of the church hierarchy, that is to say the bishops, would still be able to claim that they alone had access to the truth by virtue of their office. The angelic hierarchy was developed partly as a safeguard against abuse of ecclesiastical power,120 and partly to protect the status of the heads of the Church on earth.121 Hence the importance of both Dionysius’ hierarchical system and the unknowability of God. As long as God is knowable by man to any degree at all, there will be those who will claim to possess such knowledge, and therefore power, in their own right. The only thing that we dare say is that God is One. Sergius of Reshaina, whom I believe to have been the author of the Dionysian corpus, may have moved beyond a narrow adherence to Monophysitism, and come to believe such sectarianism to be divisive. Because God is one, the Church must become one also. ‘We shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is.’122 The vision of God is inseparable from resemblance to God. Therefore it is not to be attained by any individual who chooses to employ techniques designed to induce mystical experiences. He appeals to the essential unknowability of God: ‘Someone beholding God and understanding what he saw has not actually seen God himself, but rather something of his which has being and which is knowable.’123 Some system needed to be devised by which union with the divine might be attained – a system which would be inclusive rather than exclusive. ‘For it is not possible to be gathered together toward the One while divided among ourselves.’124 Individual authority, based on individual experience of God, is the ultimate in divisiveness. This posed a difficult problem, for although Christ is the only trustworthy revelation of the nature of God for the Christian, as well as being the only mediator between God and man, concentration on Christ rather than on the Father had led in practice, not to unity, but to division. Any perceptible image of the divine can be interpreted in as many different ways as there are interpreters; the result is idolatry. A way needed to be found to avoid this, while still remaining within the bounds of the Christian tradition. It might be argued that Dionysius’ choice of Neoplatonist terminology, together with his apparent lack of interest in 119 ¨ A. Vo¨ obus, A History of Asceticism in the Syrian Orient II, C.S.C.O. 197: subsidia 17 (Louvain, 1960), pp. 124–5 120 See CH 8.1, 237C–240A in particular 121 EH 5.4–6, 504C–505D 122 1 Jn 3.2 123 Ep. 1 124 EH 3.III.8, 437A

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the human Jesus and the Christ of faith, risked him being misunderstood, as indeed he has been. But to those who realize where he is coming from, he is recognizably Christian. The churches of the twenty-first century are plagued by the same problems of dogmatism, intolerance and divisiveness as was the Church of the sixth century. Dionysius’ message that no one has the right to define the nature of God is still valid today. Moreover, the pride implicit in so doing is a sin against the One whose will it is not to condemn any rational being to eternal damnation, but to reach out ‘to everything, nailing down, as it were, the severed parts, giving to all things their definitions, their limits, and their guarantee, allowing nothing to be pulled apart or scattered in some endlessly disordered chaos away from God’s presence’.125 Just as the sight of God will come, not through knowledge, but through unknowing, so union with each other and with God will come, not through power, but through humility.

125

DN 11.1, 949A

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Index Aggadah 27 Alchemy 26, 34–41, 57, 121, 186 Allogenes 10 Anselm 81 Antioch 13, 121, 195 Antony of Aleppo 101, 113–14 Apocalypse of Abraham 27 Apocalypse of Baruch 25 Apostolic Constitutions 45, 58, 63, 69, 153, 158 Apuleius 83 Ascension of Isaiah 20, 50 Asylus of Reshaina 121 Bardaisan 32 Barsanuphius 136 Basil of Caesarea 94, 105 Book of Jubilees 25, 47, 49 Book of the Archangels 36, 39 Book of the Cave of Treasures 58, 63, 69 Book of the Holy Hierotheos 15–18, 59–61, 64, 123–4, 133–4, 136, 157, 160, 180, 194 Brethren of the Free Spirit 131–3 Bruce Codex 82 Chaldaean Oracles 10, 30–31, 34, 53–4, 69, 71, 188 Chemistry of Moses 36 Clement of Alexandria 3, 5–7, 32, 40, 45, 65, 77–80, 177 Constantine of Laodicea 101, 114 Cyril of Alexandria 32, 105, 111, 195 Cyril of Jerusalem 45 Cyril of Scythopolis 65, 122, 133

Damascius 15, 24, 30–34, 41, 55, 86, 142, 150, 152 Demophilus 4, 126, 1258 151, 157–60, 165, 192 Didymus the Blind 32–3, 47, 65, 96, 175 Dionysius of Alexandria 104 Dionysius of Corinth 1 Disciplina Arcani 126 Doctrina Patrum de Incarnatione Verbi 108 Edessa 13, 113, 115, 123, 129 Enoch, books of 25–7, 43, 47–50, 52, 57, 66, 68, 75–6, 92 Ephrem the Syrian, St 3–4, 61, 67, 89, 105, 129, 177 Essenes 51 Eunomius 155, 169 Eusebius of Caesarea 1 Evagrius 14–15, 18, 41, 62–3, 87, 117, 120, 175, 180–83, 186, 188–9 glossolalia 27–8, 40 Gnosticism 9, 10–12, 25–7, 33, 39, 41, 47, 57, 59, 69, 80, 88, 99, 123, 194 Gospel of the Egyptians 11 Gospel of Truth 11, 80 Greek Magical Papyri 27, 56–7 Gregory of Nazianzus 45, 84, 94–5, 105–7 Gregory of Nyssa 3, 7–10, 40, 45, 77, 86–7, 98, 105, 163, 170 Hai Gaon 27 Hekhaloth mysticism 25–8, 40, 48, 64, 69, 76, 124, 187 Hekhaloth Rabbati 27 Heliodorus 37

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Hermeticism 15, 31–3, 35, 41, 57, 82–3, 87–8, 99, 126, 194 ‘Hierotheus’ 4, 14, 16, 27–9, 34, 37, 60, 93–4, 109, 115, 143, 162, 164–5, 188–9 Hymn of the Archangels 26, 36, 57

Merkabah mysticism 25–6, 75, 135, 187

Iamblichus 30–33, 54, 178, 180 Ignatius of Antioch 3, 10, 44 Irenaeus 45, 192

On the Origin of the World 63 Origen/Origenism 2, 5, 7, 15–18, 38, 41, 47, 60–62, 64–5, 69, 77–9, 95–6, 98, 116–17, 122–3,125, 129, 133–7, 161, 166, 172–3, 175–83, 187–8, 193–5 Orphic hymns 77–8

Jacob of Serugh 28, 102, 123, 159, 175, 186 John of Apamea 14, 62–4, 130 John Bar Aphthonia 101, 107–8, 112–14, 119, 137–8 John Chrysostom 45–6, 81–2, 171–2 John of Ephesus 109–10, 125, John the Eunuch 124 John Psaltes 113 John of Scythopolis 90, 108, 143, 154, 178, 186 John of Tella 22, 101, 109–11, 114, 121, 125–6, 129, 134, 137–8, 152, 160–61, 185 Joseph Hazzaya 138, 186 Josephus 75 Julian (Emperor) 30–31, Julian the Chaldaean 34 Julian of Halicarnassus 95, 103–8, 110, 115–16, 170 Julian the Theurgist 34 Justinian (Emperor) 30, 37–8, 51, 101, 110, 112, 114, 119, 121, 125, 168–9, 173–4, 196

Nag Hammadi 10–12, 57, 63, 80–82, 89 Nicene Creed 3 Nilus of Ancyra 62 Nonnus of Circesium 110

Paul of Callinicum 101, 107–9, 115–16, 121, 137–8 Paul the Jew 121 Peshi a 16 Peter of Apamaea 101, 114 Peter of Reshaina 101, 114, 121, 137–8 Peter the Fuller 3 Peter the Iberian 124 Philo 7–8, 20, 25, 28–9, 40, 49–51, 55, 65, 68–9, 73–81, 89–90, 99, 177 Philoxenus of Doliche 110 Philoxenus of Mabbugh 16, 22, 62, 64, 95–6, 102, 105, 114, 123, 130–31, 134, 156, 160, 175 Pistis Sophia 12, 41, 80–82 Plato 78, 83–4, 127, 152 Poimandres 26, 32, 34, 36, 57 Porphyry 10, 30–33, 54 Proclus 2, 14, 24, 30–31, 34, 37, 53–5, 71, 83–4, 91–2, 162, 167, 188 Psellus 54

Kitab–al–Fihrist 38 Qumran 51–2 Lausiac History 62 Leiden Papyrus 36, 39 Leontius of Byzantium 40, 95, 123, 183 Mandaeans 33–4 Mara of Amida 113, 121, 138 Marguerite de Porête 132 Marion of Sura 102, 110–11 Marsanes 10, 63 Meister Eckhart 131

Sabians 33–4 Secret Book of Moses 36 Sefer Yezirah 81 Sepher Ha–Razim 26, 52–3 Septuagint 8, 13, 16, 20, 73 Sergius of Cyrrhus 102, 110–11 Sergius of Reshaina 37–8, 40, 96, 102, 110–11, 114–15, 116–21, 123, 134– 5, 137–8, 154, 177, 183–90, 197

Index

Severus of Antioch 467 62, 95, 101–23, 125, 137–8, 153, 170 Shenoute 134, 181 Shepherd of Hermas 44 Simon Magus 80, 148 Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice 52 Sopater of Apamea 31 Stephanos 37 Stephen Bar Sudhaili 14–19, 40, 59–64, 69, 96, 117, 119, 123–4, 129, 133, 135–7, 155–6, 159–62, 172, 180–83, 186–7, 188 Sword of Moses 48–9 Synesius of Cyrene 32, 37, 188 Teachings of Sylvanus 89 Testament of Adam 59, 62–3, 67, 69

213

Testament of Job 27 Testament of Levi 50–51 Testamentum Domini 58, 158 ‘The Christian Philosopher’ 37–8, 41, 121 The Key 36, 39 Theodore Ascidas 96, 123 Thomas of Damascus 101 Thomas of Dara 101, 110, 114 Thomas of Himeria 101, 110 Timothy of Alexandria 121 Transitus Mariae 58–9 Trimorphic Protennoia 70 Tripartite Tractate 11–12, 57 (Ps)–Zacharias of Mytilene 101, 109–10, 113–15, 121 Zosimus 35–6