Hellenic Temples and Christian Churches: A Concise History of the Religious Cultures of Greece from Antiquity to the Present 9780814764480

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Hellenic Temples and Christian Churches

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Hellenic Temples and Christian Churches A Concise History of the Religious Cultures of Greece from Antiquity to the Present

Vasilios N. Makrides

a NEW YORK UNIVERSIT Y PRESS New York and London

NEW YORK UNIVERSIT Y PRESS New York and London www.nyupress.org © 2009 by New York University All rights reserved Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Makrides, Vasilios, 1961 – Hellenic temples and Christian churches : a concise history of the religious cultures of Greece from antiquity to the present / Vasilios N. Makrides. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN-13: 978-0-8147-9568-2 (cloth : alk. paper) ISBN-10: 0-8147-9568-4 (cloth : alk. paper) 1. Greece — Religion. I. Title. BL980.G8M36 2009 200.9495 — dc22 2009009940 New York University Press books are printed on acid-free paper, and their binding materials are chosen for strength and durability. We strive to use environmentally responsible suppliers and materials to the greatest extent possible in publishing our books. Manufactured in the United States of America 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

To the memory of my father, Nikolaos (1907 – 89), who experienced the vicissitudes of the Romeic Hellenism of Asia Minor

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We feel that even when all possible scientific questions have been answered, the problems of life remain completely untouched. Of course there are then no questions left, and this itself is the answer. — Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus 6.52 (emphasis in original)

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Contents

Preface

xi

Introduction

1

I

Religious Profile of Greece: An Overview Across Time

15

1

Hellenic Polytheism, Hellenism, Hellenic Tradition

17

2

Christian Monotheism, Orthodox Christianity, Greek Orthodoxy

48

Judaism, Islam, and Other Religious Cultures

81

3

II

Hellenism and Christianity: Interactions Across History

113

4

Antithesis, Tension, Conflict

117

5

Selection, Transformation, Synthesis

152

6

Symbiosis, Mixture, Fusion

192

7

Individuality, Distinctiveness, Idiosyncrasy

230

Epilogue

270

Notes Index About the Author

277 319 345

ix

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Preface

The story of this book goes back to a 1996 congress at the University of Crete on the treatment and appropriation of the ancient Greek heritage, both in Greece and abroad. My own paper focused on the various modes of interaction between Hellenism and Orthodox Christianity in modern Greece. Since then I have reflected further on this subject matter and gathered additional material. My plan was to extend the temporal limits initially set and, if possible, consider this topic through the entirety of Greek history. This plan did not get set in motion until I started discussions with New York University Press about writing a concise religious history of Greece. The result is the present book, designed for students, academics, and other interested parties. In spite of its synthetic character, this volume does not simply summarize existing knowledge. To be honest, this was unavoidable in many cases. But all in all, its contributions are to bring together Greece’s religious past and present, and to consider its religious plurality as a whole, from a diachronic perspective — that is, tracing its development over time. The endeavor to write such a book was intimidating for a number of reasons. To state the obvious, I am not an expert on all periods of Greek religious history (given the ever-growing specialization in academia, perhaps nobody is). Yet because holistic perspectives that aid in the understanding of religious change over long periods of time and in the context of broader social, political, and cultural transformations always intrigued me, I took the challenge. Certainly, all books are special in one way or another, but the present one was even more so. From the moment of its conception, I had to deal with a fundamental difficulty created by the nature of its material: How to adequately cover such an enormous temporal span within the limited space allowed? What exactly ought to be mentioned or left out, and following which criteria? Ideally, this huge topic could be better treated either in a multivolume work or in a special encyclopedia. Despite all this, I decided to adhere to a specific research agenda that had

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xii Preface

germinated in my mind over the past few years — selecting pertinent material, putting emphasis on some aspects of the topic rather than others, and interpreting the available evidence. In this sense, responsibility for any shortcomings remains entirely my own. At the press, I would like to thank Jennifer Hammer for inviting me to write this book and offering her expertise on many issues, as well as for her flexibility in extending the manuscript delivery deadline. I am also grateful to the editorial staff of New York University Press, especially to Despina Papazoglou Gimbel, for their help in the course of producing this book, as well as to the anonymous readers of the manuscript for their suggestions. Additional thanks go to Charalampos Tsochos, Stamatios Gerogiorgakis, Katharina Waldner, Brigitte Kanngiesser, Sebastian Rimestad, Gabrielle Begue, Katerina Seraïdari, Stavroula Sdrolia, and my secretary, Diana Püschel, for their help at various stages of this project. Last, but not least, I am grateful to Barbara Hobbie, Matthew Uttley, and Blossom Stefaniw for smoothing out my prose.

Vasilios N. Makrides Ertfurt/Leipzig Note on the figures: Those without indication of provenance stem from the author’s personal collection or from unidentified sources. The author has tried to locate all potential copyright holders, but this proved impossible for various reasons (e.g., due to the age of the material). If, however, a copyright holder raises legitimate claims after the publication of this book, the author will be ready to rectify this position accordingly.

Introduction

When visiting the Greek capital of Athens for the first time, a contemporary foreign visitor might be struck by the unfamiliar: a different mentality; peculiar habits and practices; indeed, another way of life. Manuals like The Xenophobe’s Guide to the Greeks can provide clues only to a certain extent. Things are, in principle, the same when it comes to religion. The visitor may have some inkling from school days about the glory that was ancient Greece in Classical times and may even remember the names of a few ancient Greek heroes or thinkers. Certainly, it is a must to know something about the rock of the Acropolis and its majestic Parthenon. The citadel of the ancient city, its sacred locus, still stands, arguably the most internationally recognizable trademark of Athens. In ancient times, it served a religious function, being the site for important celebrations like the festival of Panathenaia, which honored the goddess Athena as the city’s patron deity. Today, it is simply an “open museum” for tourist attraction, the new Acropolis Museum having been built nearby. The massive wave of visitors has created severe problems for preserving the Acropolis; in fact, it has been designated one of world’s leading monuments to be endangered by tourism. Today’s visitor has the chance to glimpse many surviving antiquities in the city related to religion, such as the remaining colossal pillars of the temple of Olympian Zeus in central Athens. A visit to the National Archaeological Museum also promises abundant cultural rewards. One can even observe the rich past of the city by traveling on the magnificent new metro. At some stations, glass display cases reveal selected exhibits uncovered during digs. In fact, metro construction unintentionally occasioned the most systematic archaeological excavation program ever, in order to unearth “the city underneath the city” — namely ancient Athens. Further, the visitor can easily notice the omnipresence of Christianity and the Orthodox Church in the capital. Near Syntagma Square stands the imposing building of the Athens Cathedral. In Plaka, an old historical

1

2

Introduction

neighborhood of Athens, one finds picturesque Byzantine churches. Other Christian places of worship, like the eleventh-century Kapnikarea or the Petraki Monastery, can also be seen in central Athens. At the summit of the Lycabettus Hill is a chapel dedicated to Saint George. Finally, the priests, or occasionally the monks, seen strolling through Athens make it clear that the city has a “Christian character,” one that has been deeply influenced by the Orthodox Church (despite the fact that the ancient Greek monuments are more attractive to tourists than the Christian and Byzantine ones). In light of these contrasts, what were the historical relations between Hellenic and Christian traditions and how did they affect the religious identity of Greece and the Greeks? The visitor gleans the same impression in other parts of Greece — the interplay between Hellenic and Christian vestiges can be traced everywhere. For instance, the island of Aegina in the Argo-Saronic Gulf was an important place in antiquity and today offers up many monuments, including the impressive Doric temple of the Athena Aphaia (fifth century BCE). The same island is still known among Orthodox Christians today for another reason: the holy relics of the highly revered modern Greek saint Nektarios Kephalas (1846-1920) are preserved there in the Convent of the Holy Trinity and generate a great deal of religious tourism. Not surprisingly, “religious sightseeing” in Athens and the rest of Greece includes Jewish and Islamic monuments. In addition to the Jewish Museum of Greece in Athens, there is a museum and Holocaust Memorial in Thessalonica, Greece’s second largest city, which served as home to countless Jewish people for centuries up to World War II. Both sites testify to the Jews’ long historical presence in Greece. Due to the lengthy period of Ottoman rule, Greece is also full of vestiges of Islamic life, especially mosques used today for secular purposes by the Greek state or religious purposes by the Muslim minority in Western Thrace. In the flea market of Monastiraki in Athens, for example, one can see the Tzisdaraki Mosque; built in 1759 and restored in 1918, it houses the Museum of Greek Folk Art today. Interestingly enough, there is much more to say at present about Greece’s religious diversity in the wake of the arrival of numerous immigrants of varied provenance since the early 1990s. Bearing this in mind, the main objective of this book is to present Greece’s religious history from a diachronic perspective, starting from antiquity, moving through the Byzantine and the Ottoman periods, and extending through to the modern Greek nation-state — all in this single concise volume. This is precisely where the first problem arises: how to cover

Introduction 3

an enormous temporal span of more than three thousand years in just one book? Needless to say, I have been extremely selective in all respects, from the material on which I drew to the notes and bibliographic citations that I decided to include. This made the whole endeavor extremely difficult. How can one do justice to selected persons, events, or cases by squeezing them into one or two paragraphs when several monographs already exist for every one of them? There was no other alternative for such a synthetic book, so my approach has been to maintain a balance between detailed analyses and holistic perspectives. The first part of the book introduces Greece’s varied religious scene: first, the development and legacy of the Hellenic polytheistic religion; second, the emergence, spread, and establishment of Christianity, a monotheistic system that later on in its Orthodox version “monopolized” Greece’s religious landscape; and finally, other religious cultures integral to Greece’s religious history, particularly Judaism and Islam. The interactions and interconnections among the major and the minor religious cultures of Greece are also taken into account. The second part of the book applies the synthetic agenda even more forcefully. First, at the systematic level, I have tried to delineate the various modes of interaction that typify Hellenism and Christianity throughout Greek history. In given historical moments, both Hellenic and Christian actors oriented themselves accordingly and went into action. These modes have been subsumed under the following four clusters, which should not be regarded as hermetically sealed from one another but as overlapping and complementary: (1) antithesis, tension, conflict; (2) selection, transformation, synthesis; (3) symbiosis, mixture, fusion; and (4) individuality, distinctiveness, idiosyncrasy. Second, at the historical level, I follow a conventional chronological division of Greek history by period: (1) the ancient one, up to 330 CE; (2) the Byzantine one, 330 – 1453; (3) the Ottoman one, 1453 – 1830; and (4) the modern one, 1830 to the present. The book examines each of the above clusters over successive eras and through all periods of Greek history. This method thus combines a vertical systematic perspective with a horizontal historical one, treating each mode of interaction over the longue durée. My aim is to show the complex ways in which these two main religious cultures have intertwined and interacted with each other throughout Greek history, and the consequences thereof. The historical examples and cases selected to show this vary considerably, from political and church decisions, as well as theological-philosophical discourses, to the

4

Introduction

manifold world of artistic creation and popular religious practices. Understandably, all these examples and cases do not pertain in the same manner and frequency to all periods of Greek history, for each bears its own distinct socio-historical background and characteristics. No doubt, it would be possible to adduce hundreds of similar examples to support the arguments of the book. After all, my intent is not a detailed inventory and analysis of all pertinent material but rather an attempt to regard Greece’s religious history over the centuries as a whole. So why did I decide to write such a book? My belief is that it fills a gap. There exist numerous excellent introductory or specialized books covering various periods of Greece’s religious history, whether ancient, medieval, or modern. There are also many books that deal with the religious history of even shorter periods, such as Hellenistic, Late Antique, or Late Byzantine times. Still, we lack a more synthetic approach to Greece’s religious history, one that considers it diachronically and as a whole. Books on Hellenic religion usually end in Late Antiquity and hardly deal with its fate in Byzantine and later eras, save some scantily referenced exceptions. The same is true for books dealing with other periods of Greece’s religious history, rendering the historical record rather fragmented and compartmentalized. This should not be viewed as problematic per se because it goes hand in hand with the specialized research of those scholars delving into Greece’s religious history. This is also mirrored in the institutionalization of the respective disciplines and the “division of labor” within academia. Regarding Greece’s general history and culture, there have been some synthetic, usually collective attempts,1 yet a similar effort is missing in its religious history. There are a few books covering selected aspects of it diachronically,2 but their perspectives, goals, and ranges are different from those of this volume. Another prime motivation for writing this book was to tease out the complex interrelations between Hellenism and Christianity, the most salient aspect of Greece’s religious history. This is hardly a new topic, for the studies devoted to it to date are legion. But again, something is still missing. First, most of these studies have been undertaken in the standard academic “division of labor” mode. Second, this topic has been approached many times with specific presuppositions and related value commitments in mind (e.g., pro-Christian, pro-Hellenic, anti-Christian, and so on). Their goal was to prove, for instance, either the harmonious synthesis between Hellenism and Christianity or, conversely, the disastrous effects of Christianity on the Hellenic religion and culture.

Introduction 5

This book, without claiming ultimate objectivity, avoids “taking sides.” Instead, written from a historical-cultural perspective, it sets out to show the complexity and the plurality of different voices, both major and minor, that characterize Greece’s religious scene over the centuries. Greeks have responded to the religious cultures of their geographical area in different ways. There were varied layers of reception, interpretation, and appropriation, each based on distinct factors, conditions, and time frames. There was neither a single voice about this matter nor a single perspective and goal. In fact, quite the opposite was true: many diverse, even contradictory, voices, orientations, opinions, and decisions arose. Contrary to widespread discourses about the religious homogeneity and unity of Greece in history and at present, its religious scene was, and still is, quite colorful, multiform, and varied — in short, chock-full of differences and antinomies. Although not serving any particular ends, ideological or otherwise, I am aware of the unavoidable imperfections and limitations of this undertaking. For example, the aforementioned modes of interaction between Hellenism and Christianity are not objective realities and historical entities but rather my own constructs, naturally with some degree of arbitrariness. They should be viewed as conceptual tools to better capture, describe, analyze, and understand the phenomena under consideration. This work reflects our awareness that reality is much more differentiated, ambiguous, and polyvalent than our theoretical schemes and conceptual frames, which, despite their eventual usefulness, are relative and contextual. Let us now turn to the terminology used in this book and clarify related matters. Terminological problems are notorious for resisting definitive resolution. All terms have their own history and concomitant problems, and the same is true for all alternatives suggested. This is more so the case in a book such as this, which covers a huge temporal span. Simply by looking at the various names attributed to Greeks over the centuries, one becomes keenly aware of the problem. There have been recent attempts at an official level in the Greek state to replace the term “Greece” with “Hellas” (Ἑλλάς) for wider international use. Yet this falls far short of establishing a single accepted designation for the country and its citizens worldwide.3 Is it possible to find generally acceptable terms and use them diachronically, even if they were used in various epochs, in different contexts, by diverse actors, and with a distinct meaning each time? Are these

6

Introduction

terms applicable to the entire religious history of Greece? My decision was to opt for a specific terminology without, however, totally excluding other terms that could also be used. I deemed it necessary to keep a balance between consistent terminology and inevitable deviations from it. This approach preserves the evidence of patterns of continuity and plural diversification in Greece’s long religious history. Moreover, I have opted to talk in this book about “religious cultures” and not about religions alone. Scholarly discourse on the relationship between religion and culture is extensive and varied, especially in the wake of the widely influential essay by social anthropologist Clifford Geertz, “Religion as a Cultural System,” which did not, however, remain immune to criticism. After all, both categories — “religion” and “culture” — are cornerstones of the dominant discourse of modernity, and their use and concomitant ideology have been subjected to various criticisms, especially by those holding postcolonial perspectives.4 Further, for many Christian theologians religion is something “higher” or “superior” to culture, a transcendent force that transforms and radically molds culture (understood in mostly mundane terms). The perennial debate is whether to consider religion as a subset of culture or vice versa. This is a seemingly intractable problem to solve once and for all. Yet, even as a subset of culture, religion may overlap or coincide in many cases with culture as whole — which is why it is pertinent to opt for the term “religious culture.” As scholar of religious studies Mark Hulsether aptly wrote, “Because of these overlaps, there is a major benefit in approaching religious studies as the study of religious cultures. It allows us to translate analyses of religions — their genealogies, relations with power, prospects within postmodern society, and so on — into analyses of culture.”5 From this perspective, religion as a socio-historical phenomenon is always embedded in specific cultural contexts and is not seen as a separate system beyond its surrounding culture. We approach religion and culture in open and flexible ways rather than with clear-cut definitions and demarcations, directing our attention not only to clearly religious manifestations but also to other realms that may be under the influence of religion. The way that religion is able to influence and to connect other domains of culture, serendipitously articulating related discourses, is particularly noteworthy. Yet this is a reciprocal process, for other domains of culture may also influence religion. These observations do not mean, however, that religion constitutes the core component of culture, nor that it should be regarded and treated as such. Actually, in modern times religion has

Introduction 7

either come under attack from other cultural forces or has been subjected to broader socio-political and cultural orders and assigned a subordinate role. The development of West European modernity in terms of churchstate relations — to some extent also applicable to the modern Greek case — accounts for religion’s “secondary social status” today. Needless to say, Greece’s two main religious cultures were far from identical, despite interconnections or elements of continuity. In ancient Greece, religion was not strictly “separated” from other spheres of life. “Being religious” within the coordinates of antiquity exhibited many aspects of behavior that are barely recognizable in modern, structurally and functionally differentiated societies. Even the term “Hellenism” incorporated a broad cultural formation, of which religion became an indispensable part. Aside from this, the position and role of religion could vary dramatically, even within the same religious culture. This is true of Christianity with regard to the Orthodox Church in Byzantium and to that in the modern Greek state. The role of the church was not even the same during the various phases of Byzantine history itself. Consequently, it is essential to pay attention to specific socio-historical contexts in order to discern continuities, variations, or particular phenomena within religious cultures. Further, this book is about religious cultures “of Greece” and not “in Greece.” This formulation is not accidental but rather quite purposeful. Talking about religious cultures “in Greece” would signify a meticulous examination of all these cultures found historically and diachronically in Greek territory. This is not, however, the purpose of this book. On the contrary, the expression “of Greece” places greater emphasis on the religious cultures that preeminently characterize Greece’s religious scene, both historically and diachronically, namely Hellenism and Christianity. Other religious cultures, especially those of Judaism and Islam, appear but do not constitute the main axis of this concise history. Although their historical and contemporary presence in Greece is incontestable, we cannot argue that Judaism and Islam come immediately to mind when talking about Greece’s religious history. Concerning the polytheistic religious culture of ancient Greece, the terms “ancient Greek religion” or simply “Greek religion,” sometimes pluralized, are generally accepted. In parallel, the term “Hellenic religion” is also used but not very often. This lexicology reflects some commonly interchangeable ways of expressing “ancient Greece” and “Hellas” as well as “ancient Greeks” and “Hellenes.” Although I discuss “ancient Greeks,”

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Introduction

“ancient Greek society,” and the like, I decided for various reasons to use the term “Hellenic” with regard to religion or other domains of culture that had to be differentiated from Christian ones. Why? First, the term “Hellenic” more clearly differentiates this specific religious culture from the Christian one that has been and is still considered today “the Greek religion” or “the religion of the Greeks.” Second, the term “Hellenic religion” is more closely related to “Hellenism” (Ἑλληνισμός) and its derivatives, used especially in Late Antique times as denoting paganism and as opposed to Christianity. Initially, this term connoted the entire Greek culture, an amalgam of various strands of thought, language, religion, mythology, images, practices, and influence, as it came to be formed at different stages in antiquity up to the Hellenistic and Greco-Roman periods. But the term took on a new meaning in Late Antiquity.6 For example, Emperor Julian used the term “Hellenism” in the fourth century in addressing a high priest of Galatia named Arsacius in the hope of reviving ancestral religion and traditions; he also used the term “Hellenist” ( Ἑλληνιστής) in the sense of “pagan.”7 In Christian usage, the term “Hellenism” negatively denoted a false Hellenic polytheism, superseded by the truth of Christianity.8 The term “Hellenism” thus referred to both the religious beliefs and practices of ancient Greeks as a whole as well as to their overall culture and traditions, as opposed to the Christian ones.9 The terms “pagans,” “paganism,” and the like will also find their place in this book for many reasons. These terms have a long history, mostly negative, having been used by Christians as “opposition labels” to denounce Hellenic religion and polytheism. From the Christian perspective, pagans (from the Latin word paganus) were thought to be both rural dwellers and civilians. The term “paganism” has a more comprehensive and collective character. It is not strictly limited to religion but includes many other phenomena, such as mythical narrations, philosophical doctrines, local cults, and cultural expressions of various provenances beyond the Hellenic one. Although it is not clear whether the pagans referred to in various sources were Hellenes, it is certain that Hellenic religion was what most Christians had in mind when using that term. After all, Hellenic religion was the main religious fountain to feed and influence similar polytheistic traditions, including that of the Romans, and remained dominant up to Late Antiquity. In addition, the term “paganism” and its ilk have long been introduced in a neutral sense in scholarly literature, remaining valid and still used freely today despite objections and criticisms. Thus,

Introduction 9

it makes little sense to avoid them completely, especially when dealing with Hellenism and Christianity. Except for mentioning them here, I steer clear of terms of opprobrium with stronger negative connotations, like “heathenism” or “idolatry,” once used by Christians against their pagan adversaries and sometimes still in use among Greek Orthodox rigorists. This book is about the religious cultures of Greece, but were there any non-religious or explicitly secular conceptualizations of Hellenism in Greek history? These appear mostly in the modern period, when the tension between the religious and the secular became stronger and more evident than before. In fact, despite the officially propagated ideology of Helleno-Christianity in the modern Greek state, many individual Greeks conceptualized Hellenism or the notion of Hellenicity in non-religious terms.10 (To some extent, the same also pertains to the Greek diaspora.) Hence, several cases mentioned in this book clearly suggest that nonreligious conceptualizations of Hellenism were quite possible in various contexts. Yet such attempts did not necessarily turn against the Orthodox Church and Christianity. In many cases, such conceptualizations acquired additional religious features, particularly as they were brought into some relation with Christianity. Non-religious conceptualizations of Hellenism might also be observed among Greek Jews, especially among those with an overall secular outlook. Be that as it may, our main interest in this book definitely lies in those cases exhibiting a religious dimension in Hellenism, particularly in its interaction with Christianity. Regarding Christianity things are slightly less complicated. References to Christianity during its early history appear in more general terms, despite its significant internal variation, because mainline Christianity tried to keep a “clear distance” from its pagan surroundings in an endeavor to demarcate itself. In later centuries, Christianity became established in Byzantium in its Orthodox version, expanded among many Slavic peoples in Central and Eastern Europe, survived the Fall of Constantinople under Ottoman rule, and materialized in the modern Greek state in the institutional form of the Orthodox Church. In all these cases, terms like Orthodox Christianity, Orthodoxy, Christian Orthodoxy, or even Greek Orthodoxy will be used largely interchangeably, indicating not only this specific trajectory of Christian tradition but also a concomitant culture that dominated the Greek world from the Byzantine period up until today. Depending on the context, the particular form “(Orthodox) Christianity” is also sometimes used to indicate that Hellenism was related to both Christianity in general and its later established Orthodox version more specifically.

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Introduction

Finally, there is another terminological, but also factual, difficulty regarding the inclusion of “religious cultures of Greece” in the book’s subtitle. I could have substituted other phrases, like “Greek religious cultures” or “religious cultures of the Greeks,” which are more flexible and not geographically bound to particular frontiers. The problem, however, becomes obvious. We cannot talk of Greece in antiquity by taking the modern Greek state as a point of departure. Greece, as we understand it today, is a modern construction. Such a country did not (and could not) exist in the past, for the ancient Greek world was not territorially bound. Ancient Greeks not only lived on both sides of the Aegean coast but also had colonies in southern Italy and Sicily, in southern Gaul, in North Africa, and throughout the Black Sea region. Elements of Greek culture, influence, and of course religion could be found in all these areas. During the Hellenistic period, in the wake of conquests by Alexander the Great, Greek learning, culture, and language spread rapidly from Egypt, Syria, and Palestine and on to Persia and India. Hellenization was widespread at the time, rendering major cities like Antioch or Alexandria almost fully Hellenized. To be Greek was no longer a matter of “descent” but rather part and parcel of a common consciousness sharing Greek language (the lingua franca of the period in the East), culture, and ideals. The same “mapping” problem applies to later periods of Greek history. The so-called Byzantine (East Roman) Empire was much larger territorially than the modern Greek state. In no sense is there any connection between the two, either politically or ideologically, although early enough Greek language and culture became dominant in Byzantium. The same problem occurs in later periods as well. The Ottoman era of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries witnessed centers of Greek learning and culture in such places as Bucharest in Wallachia and Jassy in Moldavia (both in modern-day Romania) under the aegis of the Phanariote rulers. The commercial and international city of Smyrna on the Asia Minor coast, an equally important seat of Greek culture up to its destruction in 1922, was also situated outside the boundaries of the modern Greek state. After reflecting on this dilemma, I decided to discard the two alternatives, “Greek religious cultures” and “religious cultures of the Greeks.” Despite certain advantages, they posed definite drawbacks. Being free of geographical constraints, both are too generic and threatened to encompass a huge number of cases, hardly realistic for the concise book that I envisioned. Throughout history, Greeks have traveled the globe, making it

Map of contemporary Greece (with selected references to ancient, medieval and modern places mentioned in this book).

11

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Introduction

impossible to trace all their local religious traditions or convictions. This pertains not only to antiquity but to later periods as well, including the modern one, characterized by its massive emigration currents abroad (the modern Greek diaspora). So mainly for practical reasons, I chose the term “Greece” to provide a more tangible, stable, and accessible basis for describing and analyzing its religious cultures over the centuries. This is not altogether spurious, even when referring to antiquity. By the seventh and sixth centuries BCE, the Greek world already included many geographical areas: Macedonia, Thrace, Thessaly, and the rest of middle Greece; Peloponnesus, Crete, the Aegean Islands, the Black Sea coast, the Asia Minor coast, and additional mainland; Cyprus, the Ionian Islands, southern Italy, and Sicily; and other locations. But, in fact, the political and cultural center of this world was much smaller and included basically the middle of Greece (especially Boeotia and Attica), Thessaly, Peloponnesus, and the Aegean Islands. Thus, it is not amiss to argue that the most salient geographical center of the ancient Greek world can be found primarily in what is known today as “Greece.” Hence, this consideration justifies the use of the term “Greece” in the present book. The same definition of Greece adapts well to our discussion of religion. A lot of our knowledge about Hellenic religion pertains to the area of Athens and its dependencies, a city-state that played a predominant role in Classical times. The term “Greece” also had different definitions during the Byzantine and Ottoman periods of Greek history, but it was identified primarily with what was known as the Greek mainland together with the Aegean Islands. This is not to say that the term “Greece” should be employed in the strictest geographical sense as a means of exclusion. As a result, I did not confine selected examples and events solely to Greece’s main territory; several cases from the broader Greek world also appear in this book. Nonetheless, a limited idea of “Greece,” applied very selectively, is the general rule. The same rule applies to selected persons living outside Greece, those who had either verifiable or probable Greek origins, or those who at least possessed a Greek cultural background to an exceptional degree. Through this moderate broadening of the term “Greece,” I hope to have done it justice from a diachronic perspective, at least for the purposes of this concise history. All the aforementioned difficulties have to do with a factor somewhat peculiar to Greece: “the problem of too much history,” as scholars have

Introduction 13

eloquently observed.11 In other words, Greece looks back at a long, diverse, and not quite homogeneous past, not only in antiquity but also in medieval times. The ideal combination of the Hellenic with the Byzantine past has been a perennial dilemma in the modern Greek state and a tenacious source of debate. In addition, it is not just a history of a random people; rather, it is arguably something exceptional. Put bluntly, the wider impact of the Hellenic tradition was not a common one in world history. Classical Greece was instrumental in forging West European modernity and is regarded as the font of European civilization. Its multifarious repercussions in modern times can be felt at many levels worldwide. But, and perhaps more important, this foreign appropriation of Greek history and culture had an impact on the way that Greeks themselves came to see their own past, especially in modern times. In many cases, Greeks saw themselves through a Western lens. The plurality of perspectives and its usefulness notwithstanding, this was not always beneficial for forging a viable modern Greek sense of identity. The crux of understanding is more likely to be found in both the great and minor differences among all these perspectives and evaluations, indigenous and foreign alike. These mixed perspectives have also affected Greece’s religious cultures and their diverse appropriations. In presenting and analyzing the material of this book, I have thus chosen to emphasize the continuous dialectics and antinomies that characterize not only Greece’s religious history (especially in the relations between Hellenism and Christianity) but also Greek culture as a whole. Yet I am definitely not presenting the antinomical character of Greece’s religious cultures as a problem or as a disease that needs a cure. Rather, it is a historical reality with which Greeks over time have managed to cope in various ways, at times controversially but often quite effectively. Their respective strategies, answers, and attempted solutions constitute the main focus of this book. After all, culture is not coterminous with order, coherence, and uniformity; rather, it also includes elements of disorder, discontinuity, and antinomy. Cultural ambiguities and dissonance most likely constitute the norm rather than the exception. The discovery of a multiplicity of voices within one culture has been a dominant approach in recent decades.12 The promotion of “traditional, time-honored values” is, to the contrary, regarded today as a calculated attempt to silence alternative voices and promote a single concept of culture. Certainly, people may well have contradictory beliefs and exhibit paradoxical attitudes toward cultural formations, past and present alike. Yet these people can still live

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Introduction

with or accommodate these contradictions in a satisfactory way, one that may be incomprehensible to cultural, political, and religious ideologues. Such ideologues tend to abominate, taboo, and denounce cultural and religious “aberrations” and posit clear-cut systems of thought and action, supposedly with no antinomies at all. But reality is far too complex, varied, and full of inconsistencies to satisfy such unrealistic expectations and demands for uniformity. Due to their historical, inherent, and unavoidable differences, the religious cultures of Greece do not deviate from this “pattern” of non-conformity and thus suggested to me a pertinent angle for approaching this immense subject.

Pa rt I

Religious Profile of Greece An Overview Across Time

It should come as no surprise that I begin this overview of Greece’s religious cultures with a succinct summary of their underlying historical and systematic basics from antiquity to the present. This overview starts with the Hellenic and Christian religions, whose historical interactions form the main focus in part 2. It subsequently considers the rest of Greece’s religious scene, including important religious and cultural traditions, such as Judaism and Islam. In addition, it explores various marginal and minority religions, both broad movements and small groups, which were often controversial once (Orthodox) Christianity took hold and became predominant. Although there is a tendency to overlook these other religious branches, or to minimize their importance, they are an inseparable part of Greece’s religious history. To ignore them would obfuscate Greece’s religious variety and richness. My aim is thus to make evident the plurality of Greece’s religious scene, both historically and in the present. Once we have examined the historical context, there are two other main focuses in part 1. First, to what extent and how did these religious cultures contribute to the formation or construction of Hellenicity/Greekness? The connection between religion and ethnicity/nationality has been a much-discussed and controversial issue in Greek history since Late Byzantine times. Naturally, this dual sticking point refers not only to Hellenism and Christianity but also to other religions. Second, how have all these religious cultures interacted with one another in history and what were the consequences of their mutual exchanges in the Greek context? This point is very pertinent to the complex and intricate relations among the predominant religious cultures and the rich array of other faiths. Answering these questions thoroughly enables us to adopt an integral view of Greece’s religious scene — its various trajectories, developmental lines,

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Part I

and concomitant changes in the long run. This approach does not look at religion in isolation but rather at the juncture of religious and sociocultural realms, from the political sphere and the intellectual domain to public and private life.

1 Hellenic Polytheism, Hellenism, Hellenic Tradition There are many important reasons that would prevent us from doing this even if we wanted to. First and foremost there are the statues and temples of the gods which have been sacked and destroyed; it is necessary for us to avenge these with all our might rather than come to an agreement with the man who did it. Then again there is the matter of Hellenicity — that is, our common blood, common tongue, common cult places and sacrifices and similar customs; it would not be right for the Athenians to betray all this. — Herodotus1

This was the Athenian answer given in 479 BCE to the Spartan envoys, who feared an alliance between Athenians and Persians. This categorical statement cited by Herodotus (484 – ca. 425 BCE) reveals that, even then, there was considerable consensus among the Greeks as to what constituted “Hellenicity” (τὸ Ἑλληνικόν) — namely a common Hellenic identity. He depicted common religious traditions, involving deities, temples, shrines, and sacrifices, as playing a crucial role. Herodotus’s witness is a strong one, but were things quite as he would have us believe? No matter how one might consider Greek Antiquity, the rich and manifold tradition of Hellenic religion comes immediately to mind. This reflects long-standing, and more recently interdisciplinary, scholarly interest within academia. For example, scholar of Hellenic religion Walter Burkert, using a socio-evolutionary approach to Hellenic religion, derived sacrifice from hunting and then derived religion from sacrificial ritual.2 The frequently used plural form makes clear that Hellenic religion was not a single and static system3 but rather one that developed in various forms over time. The numerous surviving ruins of temples and sanctuaries

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Fig. 1.1. A late nineteenth-century postcard of the type “Souvenir d’Athènes.” It depicts various surviving ancient monuments in Athens (Acropolis, Parthenon, Theseion, temple of Olympian Zeus). On this type of postcard, ancient Greek motifs usually predominated over the Christian ones, evidence of the significant upgrading of Greek Antiquity effected in the modern Greek state.

in all possible locations (see fig. 1.1), even beyond Greece, testify to the wide appeal that Hellenic religion enjoyed in antiquity.4 When reading the long Description of Greece by the second-century pilgrim and author Pausanias, we get an image of all types of shrines scattered around Roman Greece. These included not only temples and altars but also natural surroundings, such as rocks, trees, and caves. In fact, Pausanias regarded Hellenic religion as the locus of common Hellenic identity under Roman domination.5

Historical Aspects When did Hellenic religion begin to take shape? Because it possesses neither a specific founder nor a sacred book, it should be considered in the context of the modern periodization of ancient Greek history. Although Hellenic religion was basically formed in the context of the Greek city (πόλις, polis) or city-state from the eighth century BCE onward, its roots should be sought in the antecedent periods (all dates being approximate):

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the Minoan civilization (2700 – 1450 BCE); the Aegean Islands civilization, called collectively “Cycladic” (3300 – 2000 BCE); and the Mycenaean civilization (1600 – 1050 BCE), the first two being in all probability non-Greek. This is not meant to belittle the importance of later periods and their great achievements, but looking at earlier periods helps locate linking elements that were constantly reshaped afresh and gave rise to the Classical era. In fact, the ability of the Greeks to integrate the elements of various traditions into a new whole attests to the strength of their civilization. The Minoan and Mycenaean contribution to historic Hellenic religion — a dearth of data makes it difficult to reconstruct the Cycladic religion — has attracted wide attention so far,6 although scholars now consider these cultures and their religious systems more on their own merits. Despite the lack of deciphered texts, we know that Minoan religion was polytheistic, featuring an elaborate pantheon and differentiation among deities; further, we know that Minoans engaged in sacrificial rituals and ceremonial banqueting, held sacred symbols, and built palaces as cult centers. There was also considerable contact between Minoans and Mycenaeans. This led to an overlap in religious beliefs and practices as well as mutual influences and exchange of deities (fourteenth and thirteenth centuries BCE). Mycenaeans created the first advanced civilization in Europe, consisting of several small, autonomous kingdoms, run by independent rulers and sharing common traditions, language, and religious customs. Since the decipherment of the Linear B tablets we know that Mycenaeans were the first speakers of the Greek language in its most ancient form. Both religious cultures also had a lot in common with the religious environment of the Near East, which scholars have lately taken into greater consideration when examining ancient Greek civilization.7 Minoan cult practices, in particular cave cult practices, appear to have been influenced by Neolithic Anatolian cult practices. A vegetation cult of a fertile mother goddess was found in both Neolithic Greece and the East.8 Some of these traditions endured and passed into Classical Greece. Deciphered Mycenaean Linear B tablets include deity names both male and female,9 such as Zeus, Hera, Athena, Hermes, Ares, Poseidon, and Dionysus.10 Between the end of the Mycenaean period and the beginning of the historical era lie the “Dark Ages” of Greek Antiquity (1050 – 750 BCE), a period of obscurity because of the lack of written records. Yet, on the basis of archaeological evidence, older views about an isolated and stagnating “Dark Age” Greece have been significantly revised.11 In particular, the last phase of the “Dark Ages,” known as the Geometric period (900 – 750

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BCE), was marked by socio-political upheavals, major cultural changes, trade links with the East, and decisive transformations (technical innovations and the adoption of a new alphabet after four centuries of illiteracy). It was a transitory yet crucial period for the later creation of a Greek world around the Mediterranean and the Black Sea through commerce and massive colonization. Earlier religious traditions were reshaped and new ones began to appear, including the new deities Apollo and Aphrodite.12 Many important cult centers (Delphi, Olympia, and Isthmia) arose around the eighth century. Initially, they functioned as open places with altars and as meeting places for sacrifice and communal meals, without any decisive architecture. The growth of more formalized worship there led to the building of temples, a fact that contributed to the supra-regional significance of these places. The oldest oracle in the Hellenic world was the shrine of Dodona in Epirus, which in historical times was devoted to Zeus. During the Archaic period (750 – 490/80 BCE), Greek cities gained greater significance. Characterized by an aristocratic government overseen by various noble families, some situations turned into tyranny. One such instance was the reign of the Peisistratos family in Athens, overthrown in 510 BCE and followed by Cleisthenes’s reforms in 508/7 BCE. The Archaic period was marked by significant developments in commerce, handicraft, and social organization as well as by huge monumental activity, including the erection of temples with a standardized architectural form (700 – 675 BCE: first Doric temples; 700 BCE: rebuilding of Artemis’s temple on Delos; after 700 BCE: rebuilding of the Heraion on Samos; 580 BCE: Artemis’s temple on Corfu). The epics of Homer (second half of the eighth century BCE) and Hesiod (early seventh century BCE) provide evidence of a “pan-Hellenic” polytheistic theology (deities, heroes, and legends) alongside local accretions. As Herodotus noted, the poets Homer and Hesiod were the first to fix Greek notions of the genealogy of the deities (theogony), giving them their names, dividing honors and functions among them, and designating their forms.13 At the intellectual level, the Pre-Socratic philosophers (sixth and fifth centuries BCE) were the first to look for rational explanations of natural phenomena, combined with a critique of mythological religion and especially of crude beliefs about nature. Characteristic of this period is the appearance of specific aspects of Hellenic religion that exceeded local boundaries and constraints, which, however, never ceased playing a role. The formation of the pantheon of twelve deities (Δωδεκάθεον), who were believed to reside on Mount Olympus

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— the composition of their group never firmly fixed — and were headed by Zeus, bears witness to a central outlook that acquired pan-Hellenic significance. At the same time, numerous attributes were ascribed to the Olympian deities in the context of local worship, which demonstrates the continuous dialectic between the local and the trans-local in Hellenic religion. It is also in this period that certain sacred places were elevated to supra-regional and even pan-Hellenic centers. The first of these was Delphi (eighth century BCE) with the oracular sanctuary of Apollo, known for its patronage of colonization and granting ἀσυλία (neutrality and exemption from attacks) to certain cities later on. The Pythian Games took place there every four years starting in 582/81 BCE. The oracle of Delphi, the most important in the Classical world, also became a locus of contention, as various religious wars over its control show (595 – 583, 448, and 356 – 346 BCE). A second sacred place was Olympia, where the first Olympic Games to honor Zeus, conventionally assumed to date back to 776 BCE, took place every four years. Similar meeting places were the Isthmian Games (on the Isthmus of Corinth), held every two years from 581 BCE onward to honor Poseidon, and the Nemean Games (at Nemea) honoring Zeus from 573 BCE onward, also held biennially. All this continued into the Classical era (490/80 – 323 BCE), marked by military confrontations between Greeks and Persians, events that contributed significantly to a common Hellenic identity. It was also a time when the city of Athens, owing to its magnitude, naval power, democratic governance, and cultural achievements, became the preeminent city in Greece. The monumental construction of the Acropolis, featuring the temple of Parthenon at its peak, was to render this city famous in antiquity and beyond. A large portion of our knowledge of Hellenic religion derives from Athenian religion, thanks to the existence of ample documentation — literary, artistic, archaeological, and epigraphic — from this culturally fecund era.14 It was a period when worship and ritual, both local and trans-local, became more systematized. Increased reflection on religious matters also led to critiques of traditional mythological religion, induced by the development of institutions of learning and philosophical schools. Philosophical critique of religion, as well as the introduction of novel ideas, sometimes produced strong reactions and led to condemnations, as in the case of Socrates (470 – 399 BCE) and the Sophists. The end of the Classical era was marked by the increased role of the Macedonians in Greek affairs, leading to the control of southern Greece by King Philip II (r. 359 – 336

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BCE). His son, Alexander the Great (r. 336 – 323 BCE), continued his plan and led the successful Greek campaign against the Persians, which contributed to the spread of Hellenic culture and language from the Near East to India and later to the development of centers of Hellenic culture outside the Greek mainland, such as Alexandria, Antioch, and Pergamon. Alexander’s death initiated the Hellenistic era (323 – 30 BCE), during which his successors founded smaller kingdoms: Antigonos in Macedonia, Seleukos in Syria and Mesopotamia, Prolemaios in Egypt, and Attalos in western Asia Minor. These kingdoms fell ultimately to the Romans; the subjugation of Ptolemaic Egypt in 30 BCE sealed the political end of this era. In religious terms it was a very crucial period. Up to that time Hellenic religion had sustained a rather regional character, mostly centered around the polis, whereas during the Hellenistic era it crossed political and cultural borders, thus becoming international. It was, in turn, exposed to Oriental religions, leading to innovations, accommodations, and syncretism. New deities (Mithras) and popular civic cults (ruler worship) were introduced and adapted to Greek needs. Yet traditional elements of Hellenic religion survived in remote and rural areas. All in all, this transition shows the adaptive potential of Hellenic religion and its rather successful coping with new exigencies, a not-uncommon characteristic of polytheistic systems. One can further observe in this period an individualization of religious manifestations and an enhanced quest for meaning and for controlling human fate. A more personalized relationship between humans and deities arose, engendering a sense that deities showed a more personal concern for humanity. We can also observe a stronger interest in life after death and concomitant salvation. All this accompanied shifting views about the universe and the world, especially through the establishment of the geocentric cosmological model by the astronomer Claudius Ptolemaeus (second century). In addition, there was a rise of voluntary cult associations. This is the period when foreign mystery cults (Isis, Osiris, Sarapis, Cybele/ Magna Mater, Attis, Mithras) gained significance and popularity, despite the fact that mystery cults had a prehistory in Greece (e.g., the Eleusinian, the Dionysiac/Bacchic, and the Samothracian mysteries). Rites in these cults were limited to devotees, who could only join and attend following initiation ceremonies. Participation in such closed groups was thought to better guarantee salvation. Yet we would be greatly at fault to view Hellenistic religions as fortuitous by-products of the political internationalism

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initiated by Alexander and his epigones. They were not just a response to the new political and cultural situation; rather, they represented a coherent system with common structures of thought and a particular architecture in the cosmic arena.15 The Roman conquest of Greece, completed by 146 BCE, was a decisive development in political terms. Yet, concerning religion, the situation in Roman Greece (especially in the province of Achaea) did not change radically, despite periodic anti-Roman feelings and outbursts of open antipathy. Hellenistic religions continued to flourish in Roman times until the fourth century, which explains why this long period is often considered as a religious whole. Romans had been exposed to Hellenic religious influences long before their military expansion,16 a factor that also led to wide absorption of Greek language and literature. The dialectic between imperial and provincial religion in the Roman Empire allowed for the existence of both supra-regional and local elements. Roman polytheism within the frame of the pax romana was fairly compatible with the Hellenic one and enabled a modicum of local flexibility and adaptation.17 The model of the traditional polis religion was also modified in light of the sheer religious complexity within the Roman provinces.18 It was a period when Greek and Roman cities in Asia Minor reached higher standards in development than did those on the Greek mainland. In the case of the Greek mainland, Roman conquest led, first, to the displacement of certain cults; second, to the appearance of new cults, including the centralized imperial cult (the worship of selected emperors as gods after their death) in urban centers; and third, to radical changes in rural area cults, where many were abandoned and declined.19 The twin factors of internal communication and enhanced mobility within the Roman Empire contributed to the easier spread of religious ideas, including those of Christianity. Through its exclusive monotheism, however, Christianity produced new criteria of religious truth and allegiance, thus disturbing the tolerant religious coexistence within the Greco-Roman world. Christians denied the imperial cult, although they claimed loyalty to the Roman Empire and prayed to God for its emperor’s welfare.20 This split loyalty was the chief cause of Christian persecution by the Romans, who viewed the new religion as a serious threat to their entire socio-political system and cultural order. Yet Christianity managed to get state recognition and to suppress Hellenic polytheism in the long run. This multifaceted encounter will occupy us at length in the second part of this book.

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Systematic Considerations What were the most conspicuous features of the Hellenic religion? The first has to do with the ancient Greek understanding of religion, which was different from the notions of religion in modern times. A long history of Christian influences and European modernity have accustomed us to separating “religion” from other spheres of life — politics, public life, education, law, and so on. The European notion of secularization attests to this development. In ancient Greece, however, religion had a much stronger integrative function within society.21 Although the separation between “sacred” and “profane” was known and implemented, this exercise was far from synonymous with the modern bifurcation of the religious and the secular. Hellenic religion was integrally related to politics, administration, and justice, as well as public and everyday life. It did not create tension or stand in opposition to the rest of society. “Separation of church and state” was thus unthinkable in ancient Greece. The traditions surrounding the religion of the polis and its subdivisions in Archaic and later times indicate the role that religion played in public affairs. As scholar of Hellenic religion Christiane Sourvinou-Inwood noted, “The Greek polis articulated and was itself articulated by religion: religion became the polis’ central ideology, structuring and giving meaning to all the elements that made up the identity of the polis, its past, its physical landscape and the interrelationship of its constituent parts.”22 Polis implied not only a socio-political but a religious community as well. For example, it often sanctioned a sacrifice or offering to a particular deity, established a sacrificial calendar or festivals (like the Panathenaic, the most important one in Athens, honoring goddess Athena, the patron deity of the city),23 decreed the administration of a temple’s property,24 and even regulated the domain of funerary processions and the rites to be performed.25 An appeal to the deities was a common occurrence at the outset of public meetings. Religious oaths and sacrificial rituals were often invoked to finalize treaties between cities and end warfare. Shared religious traditions (patron deities and festivities) were the most binding elements between mother cities and colonies. Pan-Hellenic festivals featuring sacrifices, processions, and competitions in athletics, music, dance, and theater also cemented the widespread Greek world. Although only freeborn men were put in charge of polis affairs, other social strata (women, young people, foreigners, slaves) were frequently allowed to participate in

Hellenic Polytheism, Hellenism, Hellenic Tradition 25

city festivities. Some cult practices cut across civic groups (above all, the Dionysiac rites). Religion was thus a means of enhancing social cohesion and fostering social solidarity. Yet Hellenic religion should not be understood solely on the basis of the polis model, for it evolved over time and in different socio-political contexts. In addition, religious semantics were not static but rather polysemic and flexible. Religion also functioned as a medium for representing social and regional conflicts and coalitions. Be that as it may today, religion undoubtedly had broader range and appeal at that time. Ancient Greeks practiced “religious duties” almost routinely (e.g., embarking on a journey carrying a small statue or an amulet). There were distinct deities, temples, feast days, and priests, but religion was omnipresent in the nonreligious sphere as well. Prayers were not simply autonomous religious gestures but took place under a variety of conditions and circumstances.26 This does not mean that ancient Greeks were more religious than others. It merely indicates that religion was something “natural” that typified and permeated the whole culture. In Greek language, there were various terms, especially ἱερόν, to designate the things associated with the divine realm. We also find the substantive θρησκεία (religion, in the sense of cult and cult regulations),27 the verb θρησκεύω (to worship or perform religious observances), the adjective θρῆσκος (religious but also superstitious), and the expression τὰ θεῖα for matters pertaining to the realm of the deities. These terms did not simply signify a condition of religiousness and piousness but circumscribed the cultivation of the divine through appropriate ritual and practice, a central element in Hellenic religion. One should not conclude from this, however, that ancient Greeks lacked religious ideas and concepts about the deities. Theoretical thinking about religion by philosophers and others was not uncommon. But religious beliefs were more like “breathing” in a ritual context rather than part of a separate rigid doctrinal corpus that had to be memorized and learned. Although we have sound source material about many aspects of ancient Greek culture, we generally lack details about the complicated rituals performed and the abstract concepts underlying them. Participants seldom described a ritual, much less explained one. There probably seemed no acute need to do so. Rituals were simply performed and experienced. Ordinary people observing them undoubtedly knew something about the origins of certain rituals from related myths and stories, but almost never reported on it. The few ritual descriptions,

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reconstructions, or explanations that are now available stem mostly from non-participant observers or later authors — sincere but obviously not in possession of much detail. Is it possible to categorize Hellenic religion? Traditionally, it has been subsumed under the category of polytheism, being contrary to or at least patently distinct from monotheism. The Jewish philosopher Philo of Alexandria (15/10 BCE – 45/50 CE) coined the polemical term “polytheism” (πολυθεΐα, δόξα πολύθεος) to criticize all religions deviating from the one-God principle.28 Early Christians did the same,29 whereas the term “polytheism” got quite a mixed reception in modern times, used polemically by both Christian and anti-Christian critics. Modern scholars often argue that polytheism is a term so excessively influenced by Christianizing, theological, or other biased assumptions that it should be abandoned as analytically useless.30 They argue that it overlooks other “theisms” — for example, henotheism, a non-exclusive religious attitude whereby a specific deity is singled out as the supreme one and becomes the object of reverence by several other deities in a pantheon; or pagan monotheism, which relates to monotheistic tendencies especially in Late Antique pagan religiosity, philosophy, and cult practice;31 or finally megatheism, characterized by acclamations to an almighty, omnipresent, and effective God (μέγας Θεός) with whom humans participate in a personal relationship.32 The basic intent of these caveats is to avoid categorizing “polytheism” and “monotheism” in a static way, thus glossing over their internal variations, pluriformity, and specificities. This caution draws attention to the problem of uncritical or generic use of these terms but does not deny their fundamental differences. Clearly, Hellenic religion involved belief in many deities, and this set it apart from Judaism and Christianity, regardless of whether these systems eventually interacted or influenced one another. In Hellenic polytheism, deities had many characteristics and attributes, based on the belief that deities had the power to intervene in human and world affairs according to a fixed “division of labor.” Divine figures undertook specific functions within a delineated area of jurisdiction and power. There was a “ranking” among them, and their mutual relations were regulated. Divine action was directed toward the deities themselves, toward the world, and toward humans. Thus, deities were not only the object of cultic veneration but subjects as well. They were not simply nature deities but, “equipped” with specialized myths, represented the interests of various social groups, from handicraftsmen to soldiers. They were also

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embedded in the polis identity, which assigned each a specified “protection duty” as patron deity to a particular segment of society. Polytheism was, therefore, quite vital to the functioning of the ancient world. It was a human response to the complexity of the world and to whatever superhuman powers might lie behind natural phenomena, inexplicable occurrences, calamities, and other of life’s problems. Generally speaking, Hellenic polytheism was a flexible and plural system with a high adaptive potential. The polytheistic structure allowed for internal variation and even accommodated the coexistence of antithetical schemes. The absence of a single true and exclusive God did not unleash a missionary zeal and conversion efforts in Hellenic religion. The “division of labor” among deities went hand in hand with enhanced social complexity. People did not remain dependent on a single deity but had the ability to choose among various deities to fulfill their needs. But the unfortunate person who favored a particular deity in defiance of the existing order in the pantheon was branded a dissident. This person’s life could thus end tragically — as in Greek mythology when Hippolytos chose Artemis over Aphrodite.33 Whereas some deities had a supra-regional and even a true pan-Hellenic significance, as did Zeus and Hermes, certain cities were only intimately associated with a select few deities; local inhabitants worshipped assorted additional deities, such as the goddess En(n)odia in Thessaly.34 The link between the goddess Athena and the city of Athens, along with its Parthenon temple, is well-known. Associated with the polis religion, she was generally called Athena Polias; in connection with the specific polis institutions, she was given additional attributes, such as Athena Boulaia (from βουλή, the council of elected citizens who ran the city’s affairs). The same is true for Zeus, who was also a civic deity in Athens, known as Zeus Polieus, Agoraios (of the Agora), or Boulaios. Local variation did not mean that deities were denied a supra-regional character; it simply rendered the many faces of a particular deity more evident. This flexibility gave the Hellenic religion the ability to incorporate foreign deities into its system, especially in Hellenistic times, as evidenced by the widespread worship of Isis in Dion (near Mount Olympus), Philippi, Thessalonica, Beroea, and elsewhere. The deity system was complemented by a large variety of superhuman beings that were also objects of worship, such as the underworld (chthonic) deities Hades and his wife, Persephone. Minor divinities often attracted private devotion, such as Gaia, Hestia, Pan, the Nymphs, the

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Muses, and river deities, as did deified personifications of abstract virtues, like Peitho (Persuasion), Eirene (Peace), Hygieia (Health), and Nemesis (Justice). Mythological heroes (Heracles, Theseus, leading figures of the Trojan War) or even eminent personalities from past historical events (e.g., the Peloponnesian War, 431 – 404 BCE) also enjoyed cultic veneration, usually in local contexts, a phenomenon that after the sixth century BCE gave rise to the idea of immortality. There was also a widespread cult of the dead, which involved venerating ancestors and city founders as heroes.35 A lot can be thus learned about Hellenic religion from the cult of the dead, for tombs were usually filled with various objects, depending on the social status of the deceased. All this attests again to the enormous pluriformity of Hellenic polytheism. In Archaic and Classical times, Hellenic religion had a predominantly earthly orientation, showing primary interest in the present life. This was to change, however, with the onset and the appeal of the mystery cults. Although their participants certainly sought worldly rewards, these cults exhibited a strong interest in securing personal salvation after death. Yet interest in the afterlife was not lacking altogether in earlier times. Although ancient Greeks had initially focused primarily on the social survival of the group, interest in personal salvation swelled from the Archaic period onward, as evidenced from grave monuments and inscriptions. Various ideas about the afterlife, the immortal soul, and reincarnation circulated, especially in Pythagoreanism (the mystical and metaphysical beliefs held by the philosopher and mathematician Pythagoras, ca. 580 – ca. 500 BCE, and further developed by his followers) and Orphism (the system of religious beliefs and practices believed to have been founded by the mythical poet Orpheus), ideas that were to have a lasting impact on the subsequent development of a number of related Christian concepts.36 The dialectic between local and trans-local, as well as between diversity and convergence, in Hellenic religion can be discerned in the feasts and rituals that took place in both pan-Hellenic and local sacred sites and sanctuaries. The Delphic sanctuary featuring Apollo’s riddling oracles, or Olympia and its games, held enormous significance for all Greeks. The same is true of the gatherings of the Greek cities and settlements in Ionia (central coastal Anatolia in modern-day Turkey), held on the sacred island of Delos, which was known as the sanctuary of Apollo. Other sanctuaries, like the Heraion of Samos, bore a more local character. The variety of Hellenic religious life is revealed in “official” records pertaining to public events of supra-regional significance. But it can also be found in

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lore handed down and in unofficial, popular local practices — including the magical protection provided by amulets to manipulate invisible powers, both good and evil, and subject them to individual wishes, especially when other means, such as prayers, sacrifices, and offerings, had apparently failed.37 All this shows that Hellenic religion was hardly a strict, uniform, and homogeneous system of beliefs and practices, fixed by sacred doctrine, dogmas, and texts and remaining unchanged over time. It had no institutional church to control all aspects of religious life, because there was no need for uniformity in these matters. It also lacked rigorist currents, because it raised no claims to absolute truth; for the most part, it fostered open and tolerant attitudes. There was no ultimate authority proclaiming incontestable knowledge and usually no quest for definitive answers, particularly in the religious realm. The openness of Hellenic religion and its flexibility in incorporating new elements should not be misunderstood, however, for there were limits and prohibitions. In principle, foreign deities and their cults could be admitted, but they first had to satisfy the local laws of the polis to avoid the danger of disrupting an already-established pantheon and its hierarchy. This was far from an easy process. Deity impiety and commission of errors were thus the usual accusations. In the late fifth and fourth centuries BCE such accusations were raised in Athens against several persons, including the philosophers Anaxagoras (ca. 500 – 428 BCE) and Protagoras (ca. 490 – 420 BCE). The most notorious condemnation was that of Socrates in 399 BCE because he failed to “acknowledge” the deities venerated by the city by introducing new ones himself. Yet there were certainly political motivations behind his trial and execution, for he was known for his particular political views and criticism of prominent Athenian politicians.38 In the plural Hellenistic period, initial attempts to introduce the cult of the king or ruler as a divine personage met with opposition, though it later gained currency throughout the Greek cities in the form of the Roman imperial cult.39 Despite their variation and flexibility, Hellenic religious beliefs and practices were not just loosely bound or structured but belonged to a communal understanding. Although the veneration of deities was canonized through rituals and other somewhat-confining formulations, a specific deity could experience considerable evolution over time. Apollo, for example, was known as a prophet (in the context of Delphic oracle), musician, light giver (as the god Helios), shepherd, and physician. Apollo’s

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son, Asklepios, established the long tradition of curing diseases, later making him one of the most important Greek demigods and his healing temples, such as that in Epidaurus, famous from around fourth century BCE onward. What exactly did ancient Greeks think about their deities? Mythological accounts and other available data suggest that they perceived of their gods, basically, in an anthropomorphic way and applied human standards to them, both as persons and embodied powers. Nonetheless, deities were regarded as far superior to humans by dint of possessing immortality, excessive powers, knowledge, happiness, and beauty. Humans were supposed to honor and respect them. Deities were thought of as part of the world, not transcendental in an absolute sense. But in the end, their nature was believed to be unknowable to humans. The numerous attributes ascribed to the deities, despite their arbitrariness, were means to better capture their nature. Generally, the gap between deities and humans was supposedly unbridgeable, but the Hellenistic need for personal protection, security, and salvation rendered this demarcation largely ineffective. Exceptional humans could also become heroes after death, and rulers could be deified (ἀποθέωσις). Additional revelations about ancient Greek attitudes toward deities and religion in general can be found in their rich and manifold artistic world, from architecture to paintings and sculpture. Visual representations of deities through images and statues in marble, bronze, and other materials were diverse and numerous. Worshippers could recognize each deity according to his or her characteristic face, hair, manner of dress, and position. An immense iconographical corpus survives today, especially in the magnificent vase paintings produced between the seventh and fourth centuries BCE, depicting deities, heroes, mythological scenes, rituals, and festivals. There is also a wealth of archaeological findings, an invaluable resource for the study of Hellenic religion, especially when combined with historical and literary sources. Although they served a poignant human need and purpose, the deities could exhibit a great deal of contradictory behavior. They were supposed to protect morality and base their actions on ethical principles like justice, but they themselves fell victim to diverse transgressions, such as adultery and cheating. Deities did not prescribe any uniform rules or moral dogma for human conduct. Each deity had his or her own myth, undertook special functions, was venerated according to a particular rit-

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ual corpus, and embodied certain concepts. Deities helped out and occasionally exhibited compassion for human beings but generally felt little affection for them. Conversely, worshippers felt scant affection for or intimacy with the deities except, perhaps, in the mystery and healing cults. Their mutual relations were more a mode of exchange or moral bargaining. An appropriate sacrifice to a deity was supposed to secure good luck for whoever performed the ritual — fortune, family happiness, bountiful harvest — and prevent negative happenings during hazardous events like journey or war. The exchange “market” between deities and humans should not be overstated, however, for there is evidence enough of sincere piety among worshippers. It was common to think that the overall stance of a person offering a sacrifice — should that person commit a transgression — could affect the outcome of the ritual. Ritual cleanliness — not to be confused with moral cleanness — was very important when participating in a ritual or entering a sanctuary. Ritual pollution usually resulted from both abnormal actions (eating of corpses, killing) and normal, unavoidable actions (menstruation, miscarriage). It implied a particularly unclean state for a person, which could usher in severe consequences to the whole community. Purification rituals for individuals, groups, and cities were thus a constant concern in ancient Greece.40 In this sense, deities were not merely manipulated by humans to gain rewards; they had dangerous sides as well, threatening to rain infelicity on humankind. Divine intervention in the world did not rule out human responsibility or human free will. Although expected to pay homage to the deities through sacrificial rituals and other cult observances, humans had to abstain from improper behavior — otherwise rituals would be ineffective. All these potentialities offered elaborate explanations as to why a sacrifice had not fulfilled a request or an oracular prophecy had failed, even though the supplicant had followed ritual instructions precisely. Bearing this in mind, it is plausible to argue that Hellenic religion placed greater emphasis on the proper practice of rituals (orthopraxy) than on preserving a precise or “true” doctrine of the divine (orthodoxy). Certainly, Hellenic religion was more lived than believed in. Temples and altars were more ubiquitous in the ancient Greek world than were schools or libraries for accumulating religious knowledge. Piety was expressed primarily through cults. But there was no specialized clergy to perform rituals and no scriptural texts, except in the mystery cults. Few cults had professional

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priests. Even then, most priests and priestesses did not constitute a special social group nor receive special training. Most were members of the local social and economic elite. They were elected for a year or for life, usually within a family kin group with hereditary rights in a specific cult tradition. Sometimes they were even chosen by lot. No doubt, there were religious specialists — professional oracle-mongers and diviners, who were thought to possess unique abilities or who performed unusual tasks, such as foreseeing the future or advising on crucial decisions. Yet this was a far cry from the ordained church hierarchy of Christianity. In some cities (in Asia Minor, Chios, Kos, Thasos) the right to be the life-long priest of a particular deity was even sold to the highest bidder, a status that included bonuses, such as tax exemption.41 The overall importance of ritual action reinforces the perception that Hellenic religion was basically a collective enterprise. This is not to deny individual and personal forms of piety, which existed parallel to the collective expressions. After all, the Eleusinian Mysteries with the cult of Demeter and Persephone at Eleusis (see fig. 1.2) and the Dionysiac rites, presupposing personal initiation and guaranteeing salvation after death, were also encompassed by the polis religion in Athens.42 But usually the festivals and rituals were framed by political life and had a collective character, involving several persons or a whole group — from the family, various clans or tribes, to the broader community, including the city. To hold a sacrifice or a procession as a civic event certainly called for the involvement of more than one person. Religious and, in particular, ritual acts had complex forms entailing many stages and procedures: purification (for expiation purposes); libations (of wine and other offerings); processions; sacrifices of ritually adorned animals (earlier cows but later on mostly sheep and goats), the rite’s central element; hymns and prayers; and sacrificial banquets. Sacrifices took place under the open sky to enhance direct contact with the deities above, if an appropriate altar existed. The construction of temples and other buildings in sacred places served other functions, namely housing the statues, cult figures, and treasury. Sacrifice also enabled deities to “participate” in the ritual. Much of this occurred on public occasions, such as civic festivities, typified by ritual processions and many other activities, ranging from theatrical performances to athletic games. Feasts were regulated by a calendar specific to each city. When a significant development took place — for example, the introduction of a new cult in a city — a public event, often featuring a plaque or inscription, commemorated

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Fig. 1.2. An early twentieth-century postcard showing the sanctuary at Eleusis, the site of the Eleusinian Mysteries, a famous religious center in ancient Greece.

the occasion. Yet there was a degree of freedom regarding rituals, for participation in them was not mandatory. Rituals were performed on many other occasions, from life-cycle events to celebrating the seasons of the year. In addition, there was a rich tradition of healing and oracular cults. Divination, the art of predicting the future, was given a place of honor for performing mantic practices, prophecies, or oracular pronouncements. The public was usually well-informed about oracles and the miraculous deeds of the deities, which were recorded and made known through inscriptions. Yet all this occurred without any central authority or fixed canons. Rather, the interpretation of signs was done on a casuistic basis. But what about theology and theoretical reflection on religion in ancient Greece? The term “theology” (θεολογία) appears in Greek sources in the form of various discourses about deities.43 But this is hardly theology in the Christian sense of a canonical body of beliefs, structures, and controlling measures. Hellenic theology was expressed mostly in myths of various types, such as theogonic, cosmogonic, heroic, popular, and political. These did not include religious articles of faith and dogmas (in the Christian sense), nor did they present an ideal image of the divine world; rather, they sought to offer explanations for the existing world order and

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how to deal with it effectively and satisfactorily. But who were the creators of such a theology, expressed as it was in various forms? They were neither professional theologians nor experts but rather members of assorted social groups. Poets constituted one such group, because they constantly reshaped and enriched older myths with novel elements, based on concrete situations in life and history.44 Philosophers also created their own brand of theology but did not enjoy the same popularity as the poets. They promoted their own ideas about the divine, usually in abstract forms (as an impersonal, universal ethical principle) and did not refrain from criticizing the flaws and deficits of the crude anthropomorphism of Hellenic religion, widespread among the masses. It is doubtful, however, that their critique of mythological religion led to a decline in religious practice and religion as it was lived. The absence of dogmas or of a coherently formulated theology should not be viewed as a flaw in Hellenic religion or as a handicap to its study. Instead, it calls for articulating theology in a polytheistic frame, eloquently formulated and described by the Roman scholar and writer Marcus Terentius Varro (116 – 27 BCE) as theologia tripertita, a tripartite theology, far removed from the monotheistic Christian one.45 The obvious significance of ritual practice in Hellenic religion should not lead us to underestimate religious thoughts and beliefs. In fact, we should consider this complex religious system as a dynamic, flexible network of connections, a web of propositions and attitudes toward the divine world expressed through varied means. From this angle, Hellenic religious experience was rational and not a mere by-product of ritual action. More important, religious ideas exerted strong influences on other domains — historiography, philosophy, tragedy, and even the development of the democratic city-state.46 Let us now consider a related problem. It is often assumed that myths and rituals intertwined — namely that rituals served as enactments of myths and myths served as interpretative frames of ritual action. There is a notorious correspondence between the λεγόμενα (what is spoken) and the δρώμενα (what is done) in Hellenic religion. Yet it would be a mistake to view this correspondence as straightforward or to take it for granted. Today’s scholars find it no easy matter to establish a chronological order of the origins of myths and rituals, largely because different research approaches are applied, whether evolutionary, historical-cultural, or others.47 How this multistep process came about is still difficult to explain because our information about ritual in ancient Greece is fragmentary;

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existing myths are not known to be integral to certain rituals, at least in the form that we know them. Yet both were undoubtedly necessary means of building communication and solidarity within given social settings and societies. Their interaction and relationship to one another remain very complex matters, defying simplistic views of linear correspondence. How, then, was religious knowledge transmitted? To some extent, this was the domain of priests, unfettered by central coordination. With a few exceptions, there was no formal religious education. Religious knowledge came largely from non-religious figures, like rhetoricians. Children and adolescents may have gotten some religious edification at home (fathers teaching sons and mothers teaching daughters), but public feasts and rituals were probably equally important occasions for learning various songs, prayers, and practices. Young people also participated in various activities and organizations of the polis, but these were not primarily intended to transmit religious knowledge. Numerous texts existed in Hellenic religion as well. They were used to transmit knowledge and for ritual participation, communication, and so on. But they had a specific, relative value compared to sacred texts used in the context of monotheistic religions. In actuality, texts were not widely read and received in Greek Antiquity, except in the higher elitist cultural echelons and usually for narrow purposes. Religious knowledge was more likely to be transmitted orally rather than textually, which further explains why religious knowledge in ancient Greece was construed elastically and non-normatively. To what extent did Hellenic religion experience internal or external criticism before the advent of Christianity? As I have alluded to earlier, criticism was not uncommon. It was certainly leveled by naturalist, PreSocratic Ionian philosophers (e.g., Thales, ca. 635 – 546 BCE; Xenophanes, ca. 560 – 480 BCE; Heraclitus, ca. 535 – 475 BCE). Unhappy with mythology-based explanations of nature, they looked for more rational and “scientific” ones. Naturalism developed even further under the Atomistic tradition (postulating the existence of uncreated and eternal atoms as the hidden, ultimate substance in all physical objects of the universe) of Leucippus (fifth century BCE) and Democritus (ca. 460 – ca. 370 BCE). Socrates and Plato (429 – 347 BCE), too, voiced philosophical criticism of religion in their quest for superior forms of the divine beyond a crude anthropomorphism. Sophists like Protagoras and Prodicus (ca. 470 – 399 BCE) concerned themselves more with themes of human life, society, and morality, and heaped radical criticism on traditional

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religious beliefs. Even the well-known dramatists Aeschylus (ca. 525 – 456 BCE), Sophocles (ca. 496 – 406 BCE), and Euripides (ca. 480 – 407/6 BCE) aimed significant moral criticism at traditional religion. On the light side but still critical, Aristophanes (ca. 456 – ca. 386 BCE) parodied religious beliefs and practices in his comedies. Hellenistic-era Epicurean and Sceptic philosophers also represent two influential currents of religious criticism that left their imprint on the later development of European philosophy. One also sees hints of explicit or implicit atheism in some of the instances just cited. Despite all this, it is improbable that skepticism of religion led to religious decline in Greek Antiquity. It seems more appropriate to consider any inquiries, critiques, and doubts about Hellenic religion within the wider frame of ancient Greek culture and mentality, which, on the whole, tolerated and allowed enough space for such activities. Religious decline is the result of many parameters. Religion does not simply disappear in the wake of philosophical critique or other official measures. Pagan practices thus survived during the Christian era, despite systematic persecution and prohibitions. Likewise, religious claims cannot be easily falsified. Divination in antiquity did not fade merely because prophecies failed to come true. Disappointed practitioners and believers found many rationales for failure. A polytheistic system like the Hellenic one dealt ably with internal discrediting and disputes. It was flexible enough to find passable solutions and work its way out of most dilemmas.

Hellenic Religion, Hellenicity, and Hellenism So much for a bit of history and systematic concerns. Let us now examine more closely how Hellenic religion was specifically related to the notions of Hellenicity/Greekness and Hellenism. This is because the religious character of Greece and of the Greeks has been a topic of heightened controversy at different periods of Greek history. The term “Hellenicity,” a neologism of sorts, refers to a common Hellenic ethnic or cultural identity. As a notion, it appears in the passage from Herodotus cited at the beginning of this chapter and derives from his characteristic expression τὸ Ἑλληνικόν. The other term, “Hellenism,” also has a long history. In Hellenistic times it signified the desirability of imitating the ways of the ancient Greeks (2 Macc. 4, 10, 13). In Late Antiquity (roughly 250 – 750), Hellenism came to portray the amalgam of ancient Greek culture as a

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whole, a broader cultural formation, of which Hellenic religion was an inseparable part. The holistic definition is the one that I employ, as distinct from the identification of Hellenism with the Hellenistic period, first introduced by Johann Gustav Droysen (1808 – 84) in his Geschichte des Hellenismus.48 Both notions of Hellenicity and Hellenism are thus closely related to each other. Herodotus’s passage treats Hellenic religion as a key element of panHellenic consciousness and unity. His was not the first attempt by an ancient Greek to draw such a connection. Early signs of a common moral, religious, and cultural convergence can be traced to Homer, who is credited by subsequent generations of Greeks with providing the first concept of the unity of Hellenism with its basic common norms.49 That religion played such a unifying role in supra-regional terms is further evidenced by the Amphictyonies, the religious organizations of various Greek cities that supported temples, sacred places, religious festivals, and games — the most important being the Delphic Amphictyonic League. Religion also merged with patriotic feelings to convey a sense of Hellenicity, an example being the triumphal odes of the lyric poet Pindar (ca. 518 – ca. 438 BCE), whose compositions honored the victors at the four pan-Hellenic athletic festivals. Pindar presented these festivals, which shared a common spiritual and religious ground, against a backdrop of myths, deities, and heroes, always beginning and ending with sacrifices and other rituals. Participation in the Olympic Games was initially restricted to Greeks, a clear sign of a common Hellenic consciousness, although this rule was later relaxed. Even Greeks living in other geographical areas kept to tradition by identifying themselves, among other things, through a common religion. Greek colonists usually took with them the flame from the sacred hearth altar of the πρυτανεῖον (seat of government) of their mother city, keeping it alive to preserve their strong spiritual bonds to their home. Even when drawing analogies and parallels to foreign deities, Greeks imposed limits, adhering to a distinct Hellenic tradition and sense of identity. In Late Antiquity, though, such interactions became stronger, as evidenced, for example, by the growing syncretism and interconnections of deities between the Hellenic and the local cultures in Egypt.50 Pan-Hellenic unity on the basis of more cultural criteria is said to have strengthened after the wars against the Persians. Those battles certainly contributed to and perpetuated the notorious distinction between Hellenes (“civilized”) and barbarians (“uncivilized”). The Persians, coming from Asia, were regarded as culturally inferior, whereas the Hellenes (of

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Europe) viewed themselves as superior in most domains: ethos, education, language, ideals, values, political system, and, decidedly, religion. Such a demarcation from outsiders or barbarians is an element of Aeschylus’s play The Persians (472 BCE),51 which enjoins religion to foster pan-Hellenic unity: “O Greek Sons, advance! Free your fathers’ land, free your sons, your wives, the sanctuaries of paternal gods, the sepulchers of ancestors. Now the contest’s drawn: All is at stake!”52 This was also a time when Athens started developing into a major center of the Greek world, both politically and culturally, and religion was a central factor in civic affairs. Pericles’s (ca. 492 – 429 BCE) famous Funeral Oration, delivered at the end of the first year of the Peloponnesian War, recounts all the things that Athenian democracy stood for: politics, art, culture, philosophy, and, not least, religion. He thus made reference to various competitions and sacrifices held throughout the year in Athens, obviously regarded as important civic events.53 Yet this was hardly an exclusive Athenian phenomenon. As scholar of Hellenic religion Jon D. Mikalson observed, “Most of what we think of as characteristically Greek in architecture, sculpture, mythology, lyric poetry, tragedy, and comedy owed its origins and, especially in the Classical period, its development to the religious institutions and practices of the Greek people. The cultural environment in which the Greek individual lived, whether in Athens or Sparta or Thebes, was significantly determined by his religion and that of his ancestors.”54 It is imperative, however, to avoid idealizing religion in ancient Greece, no matter how important its role might have been. Rhetoric and discourse tended to extol a history that was probably much different than reality. For example, we know that the strict demarcation between Hellenes and barbarians (foreigners) was not absolute. Contacts and interaction between them were unavoidable and plentiful. Geographic proximity, local coexistence, trade, and travels contributed to this.55 In addition, the criteria developed to define and demarcate Hellenicity in ethnic and cultural terms were not uniformly applied, and they reflected different epochs of ancient Greek history. The conscious reification of religion as a marker of difference was also not strictly adhered to. Local polis identities were additionally used to denote ethnic and cultural provenance. The residents of a city were organized in various corporate kinship and descent groups (phratries, tribes/phyles, families). There were also subdivisions of land in a given region (demes). Although each of these units participated in common civic or supra-regional rites, each had its own patron deity and

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rituals, which underscored a form of local labeling. The emphasis on a broader, common Hellenic identity may have thus run counter to the objectives of certain powerful cities or their constituent parts promoting hegemonic claims over other cities. It is clear that some layers of identification, including religious ones, might not have actually advanced panHellenic goals or orientations.56 Such caveats notwithstanding, it is equally certain that ancient Greeks generally felt that they belonged to a common ethnic group, the strongest factor being most likely that of kinship established through various genealogical discourses.57 At the same time, there were unavoidable changes over time in the way that Hellenicity and Hellenism were perceived. After the wars against the Persians, but especially from the Hellenistic period onward, the possession of Greek culture, learning, art, values, and mentality was no longer the exclusive privilege of ethnic Hellenes but of all those educated according to Greek standards and mores. The Athenian orator Isocrates (436 – 338 BCE) pointed this out, defining Hellenes by their intelligence, education, and culture without reference to race, blood, or ethnic descent and affiliation.58 In addition, the period of the Second Sophistic (second and third centuries) — the cultural movement that extolled the significance, glories, and contributions of the Greek past and initiated a classical revival — was catalytic for the “Hellenization” of the Roman world. Athenocentrism was a cardinal feature of this period; Athens became the epitome of Hellenism and a subsequent model for imitation down through the centuries. The use of an elegant Greek language was elevated to the status of a standard-bearer of Hellenism, and the famous Attic dialect was to exert strong influence as the linguistic model par excellence.59 Once Hellenism became greatly detached from the narrow lineage of Greek descent and geographical constraints, what role did Hellenic religion play in the time of Hellenistic cosmopolitanism? As we know, radical changes took place during this period, such as the introduction of new deities and religious concepts, the rise of religious syncretism, greater religious plurality, and an internalization of religious feelings. The Hellenic religious system, again, remained flexible enough to accommodate such novelties and to cope with new situations. In fact, Hellenic polytheism developed from then on within a cosmopolitan polytheistic frame, fostering the coexistence of various religious strands. Distinctions between ethnic elements were still possible, such as between Hellenic and Roman, but overlapping and mutual influences were the rule.

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This ability to absorb foreign elements, including religious influences, had its prehistory. A basic postulate of Hellenic polytheism was the idea that deities were somewhat universal, which facilitated their transfer across different religions and cultures. Evidence for this strategy can be found in the work of Herodotus,60 who searched for the equivalents of Hellenic deities in other cultures (a tendency later named the interpretatio graeca). Zeus and other Olympian deities found their way into “foreign lexicons” in this context. This compatibility between deities of different cultures notwithstanding, the road to common worship and deities was occasionally rocky. For example, Oriental gods like Adonis and Sabazios did not meet with glowing initial acceptance by the cultic system of Athens.61 From the Hellenistic period onward, however, a gradual opening up to foreign cults evolved. The notions of Hellenicity and Hellenism were to experience a major challenge with the advent of Christianity and its collective opposition to paganism (along with a whole array of other religious, philosophical, and cultural points of contention). For the Christians, the term “Hellene” came to represent all pagans, regardless of ethnic descent, cultural provenance, or specific religious tradition (Acts 13, 48; 15, 3; 7, 12). Yet even within this ample pagan conglomerate, Hellenic religion and culture continued to occupy a central role. When Christian writers, such as Tatian (second century) and Athanasius of Alexandria (ca. 293 – 373), attacked paganism and polytheism, they targeted their writings specifically “against the Hellenes” (Κατὰ Ἑλλήνων), a collective condemnation. In this way, many Christians completely rejected Hellenism and, hence, missed out on all its cultural riches. This attitude shows that Christians viewed the ancient Greeks (and not the Romans or other peoples) as the epitome of the polytheistic religious order. This identification of Hellenism/Hellenes with paganism/ pagans was to stick with the Christian world throughout most of the Late Antique and Byzantine periods. The real problem, however, was that many Christian elites cherrypicked Hellenism, fragmenting it and taking selectively from its cultural patrimony. They put these selected elements in the service of their own religion and outspokenly rejected Hellenic polytheism. In this manner, these Christians claimed that they were participating in Hellenicity but within an exclusively Christian framework. The use of Greek language and classical literature continued to serve many Byzantine Christians as an element of identity. Talking also about himself, Eusebius of Caesarea

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(ca. 260 – 339/40) could not deny the original Greek descent of many Christians (τὸ γένος Ἕλληνες ὄντες). Although they had previously held Hellenic polytheistic views (τὰ τῶν Ἑλλήνων φρονοῦντες), these Christians had finally and definitely abandoned their “ancestral superstition” for the sake of Christianity.62 This was a product of the teleological and linear view of history propagated by Christianity. Hellenism was viewed as a preparatory stage in history and as an instrument of divine providence designed to pave the way for a smooth, easy dissemination and acceptance of Christian revelation. A big question is whether it was really possible to erase or reblend Hellenism so easily. Hellenism was to many pagans a unified, indissoluble cultural and religious whole. They must have realized what havoc Christianity might wreak on their rich heritage. This is why insightful figures like Emperor Julian raised objections to Christians. He and other admirers and followers of the Hellenic tradition recognized its fundamental unity and asked for consistency and honesty in harnessing its vast resources.63 Hellenism could not thus be used ad libitum according to Christian preferences and criteria. This was a counterargument that supporters of Hellenic religion have marshaled against Christianity throughout Greek history.

Hellenic Tradition, Hellenic Religion, and the West Virtually no culture remains hermetically encapsulated within its physical or mental borders; rather, it usually enters into interaction with neighboring cultures. In this process, some cultures may acquire a higher status or recognition, even from their politically dominant conquerors. This was the case with the Romans, who looked on Hellenic culture with admiration and were influenced by it in many realms — literature, philosophy, poetry, rhetoric, and so on. Evidence for this can be found in Horace’s (65 BCE – 27 CE) classic utterance about the captive Greece, which in turn captured its fierce victor and brought the arts to the rural and uncultured Latium (the region of central Italy with the city of Rome).64 In spite of their subjugation, ancient Greeks continued to view Romans as culturally inferior and as poor models for imitation. Leaving the ancient period aside, Greek Antiquity’s exceptional cultural achievement was to play a vital role in Western Europe, enjoying a diverse, multifaceted, and multilayered reception from the Renaissance

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to the present. This long process gave rise to West European modernity, which in turn became a catalyst and pivot point of world history. The Hellenic tradition thus became an essential building block of Western culture. Not only were ancient Greeks and their majestic achievements strongly admired but they were considered precursors to modernity as well. In addition, the Hellenic tradition, especially in its classical manifestation, sustained its influence over the centuries, as a plethora of contemporary books illustrate.65 It has also shown an extraordinary resilience. Hellenic influences are felt today in such varied domains as science, comedy, tragedy, theater, philosophy, logic, ethics, language, athletics, rhetoric, education, law, history, religion, politics, art, and architecture, and figures like Homer, Odysseus, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, and Alexander the Great are familiar names even to the average citizen. Yet this Western and subsequently worldwide appropriation of Hellenic tradition was never one-sided or mono-dimensional; on the contrary, it was multifaceted and at times even controversial and debatable. It aroused not only fondness, love, and admiration but also distaste, hatred, and rejection. Ancient Greek culture was sometimes even parodied or subverted; at other times, it was imitated in a kitschy manner. Its influence permeated many situations that seemed “alien” or irrelevant to it. Not infrequently, a kind of Greek hatred arose in reaction to the overwhelming omnipresence and influence of the Hellenic tradition. Classical scholar Oliver Taplin highlighted this multifaceted and quasicontroversial appropriation of ancient Greek culture in his book Greek Fire. Tying his work to a documentary television series for Channel 4 in England, he took on the major task of deciphering the ambiguities inherent in the post-1750s view of Classical Greece. He noted, “Greek Fire is a paradox, dead yet alive, submerged yet burning, the preserve of the educated establishment, yet a challenging, provocative presence accessible to anyone with an open mind.”66 Historically speaking, modern receptivity to Classical Greece began during the Renaissance and Humanist eras (fifteenth and sixteenth centuries). These movements not only enabled a revival of classical learning and a fresh view on Greek Antiquity but also marked the beginnings of classical philology, a sea change of paramount importance in the Western educational system. Knowledge of ancient Greek and the ability to compose metrically and linguistically correct verses and epigrams — with the elegance of the ancients — were prerequisites to being a true humanist (accompanied, naturally, by an equal body of knowledge pertaining to

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Latin as well). Western love and fondness of Greek Antiquity continued in various forms and in different settings in succeeding centuries, sometimes with even greater intensity. One observes this in the development of classical studies (ancient history, archaeology, languages, literature), in neoclassical trends in architecture, and in the resurgent interest in comparative mythology and ethnography. Ancient Greek motifs also played a role in such broad movements as the Enlightenment and the French Revolution, where the ideals of democracy and freedom were attached to the political arena as a means of exerting social critique and liberalizing West European societies. In addition, there appeared an immense travel literature based on the narratives of many Westerners who had visited Greece, either exclusively or together with other Balkan and Levantine regions. These travels were often connected with the search for the remnants of famous ancient places and discovery of their fates under Ottoman rule. This marked the beginning of the Western “fever for antiquities” (e.g., sculptures, temple art, vases, manuscripts) and their transportation abroad, artifacts now admired in museums or housed in private collections. This chapter of Western archaeophilia and worship of antiquity reached its peak in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The notorious “Elgin Marbles,” taken from the Parthenon and spirited away to the British Museum, are paradigms of this phenomenon.67 Two parallel currents sped antiquity fever along: Romanticism and Philhellenism (eighteenth and nineteenth centuries). Both movements exhibited the cardinal features of viewing the Classical era through a Western lens. The construction and invention of ancient Greece were subjected not only to a Western political and military slant but also to its cultural and intellectual leanings. In the frame of Romanticism, the “Greek Revival” entailed an intense idealization of ancient Greece, imagined as a remote fairyland of myth and legend, an idyllic and paradisiacal place (see fig. 1.3). Imaginary travels to this land of dreams produced written recollections that attracted a wide reading public — for example, the learned, imaginary 1788 travel journal to ancient Greece in four volumes, entitled Le voyage du jeune Anacharsis en Grèce, dans le milieu du IVe siècle avant l’ère vulgaire, written by Jean-Jacques Barthélemy (1716 – 95). Needless to say, this was a rosy-tinted picture of ancient Greek reality that had little to do with the real conditions under Ottoman rule. West European pupils used to learn all the main Greek place-names and the topography of the Acropolis without ever setting foot on Greek soil.

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Fig. 1.3. An engraving from Germany (ca. 1835) showing a fictive reconstruction of Plato’s Academy in ancient Athens.

This idealization also found its way into the parallel current of Philhellenism, a broader, pan-European social movement. Aside from its many local European manifestations, it also spread to the Unites States and elsewhere. Philhellenism was generally viewed with mistrust by the political leaders of the day as a potentially subversive movement. Its intellectual roots grew out of Romanticism, yet its political ambitions were connected with the liberation of Greece from Ottoman rule. Greeks living in Western Europe at the time also contributed to increased foreign interest in their country. It is worth mentioning that many Philhellenes came to Greece and fought during the War of Independence (1821 – 29), some even sacrificing their lives to the Greek cause. Before being confronted with the Greek reality of the day, many Western travelers had highly unrealistic views about the place and its inhabitants.68 They dreamed of Athens, Sparta, Olympia, Delphi, and Thermopylae and imagined that they would encounter these cities and their citizens in direct continuity from antiquity. Yet many local Greeks at the time might have barely known the significance of these places. Travelers fantasized about ancient Greeks as heroes with superhuman characteristics; the ordinary reality proved a big letdown. Such sentiments of ambivalence toward Greece are understandable, because travelers had derived

Hellenic Polytheism, Hellenism, Hellenic Tradition 45

their knowledge of Greek Antiquity from a pristine humanistic environment, steeped in the idealized visions that had been circulating in the West. Utterly disappointed by the Greece that he visited, François-René de Chateaubriand (1768 – 1848) noted in 1806 that nothing had survived from the glorious Greek Antiquity, and that the best way to “see” Greece was still through the epics of Homer.69 In spite of this incompatibility and disappointment, it is interesting that many travelers developed an interest in modern Greeks and their way of life. At times, they also sought to establish a continuum between ancient and modern Greece, despite observed differences.70 Western interest in Greek Antiquity continued after the foundation of the modern Greek state and still persists today in a variety of ways. What is perhaps of special interest for our topic is that this Western reception of Greek Antiquity did not take place fragmentarily but rushed in as a whole. Interestingly enough, this included Hellenic religion and polytheism. It is true that by the end of the Middle Ages and the beginning of early modern times, Western Europe was predominantly Christian, although the Reformation effected a greater plurality within Western Christianity. Yet, from the time of the Renaissance, the revival of Greek Antiquity was a key factor in broadening Europe’s cultural and religious horizons beyond its Christian ones. Although there was a clear longing for new religious forms and ideas, the main aim was not to revive Hellenic religion per se but to look for alternative models of orientation to Western Christianity that would rid it of its dark and often-unsavory past in the Middle Ages. As a consequence, Hellenic polytheism found its way into the modern age primarily through non-religious specialists, such as philologists, philosophers, linguists, and archaeologists. This shift makes evident a crucial characteristic of the European history of religions in modern times — nonChristian religious ideas and worldviews were disseminated “vertically” through the study of ancient philology, classical languages, comparative mythology, and archaeology.71 The dissemination of ancient Greek texts was not merely a philological enterprise; it also afforded generations of readers a glimpse into the deep and varied world of Hellenic polytheism. Scholars of philology, philosophy, mythology, and archaeology were usually the first to acquaint themselves with the richness of polytheistic religions and traditions, including the Hellenic one, and this study produced reverberating influences on modern worldviews.

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Given this situation, it is hardly surprising that polytheistic ideas and motifs, basically of Hellenic provenance, spread rapidly in Western Europe. Influential figures of the Italian Renaissance eagerly appropriated ancient Greek deities, imbuing their iconography with new characteristics, much to the enjoyment of the Renaissance public.72 In fact, paganism and pagan mythology captivated the artistic imagination to such a degree that they were placed on an equal pedestal with then-predominant Christian motifs.73 Renaissance thought and artistic creation was also infused with an interest in pagan mysteries, the occult, and Hermeticism (the system of religio-philosophical beliefs attributed to the wise Egyptian priest Hermes Trismegistos).74 All this illustrates that pagan elements never completely disappeared with the acceptance and establishment of Christianity; rather, they lingered on, openly or in disguise, reemerging when conditions were again favorable. Pagan mythology experienced later revivals,75 such as during the Enlightenment when scholars turned to non-Christian religions to question or subvert Christian authority and singularism.76 The same can be observed later in literature77 and the arts,78 as well as within various cultural, artistic, humanistic, and scholarly circles (e.g., those of Goethe, 1749 – 1832; Schiller, 1759 – 1805; Nietzsche, 1844 – 1900; and among many classical philologists).79 Some participants in this Neopagan revival distanced themselves from earlier rationales about and views of Hellenic religion; these new interpretations claimed to offer a better comprehension of paganism’s “essence” and “scope.” Classical philologist Walter F. Otto (1874 – 1958), a Neo-Romantic adherent of the notion of a “Hellenic pantheon” — Dionysus being his favorite god — is a case in point. A similar attempt at a Neopagan revival cropped up in Germany during the interwar period and under National Socialism, with anticlerical and anti-Christian overtones.80 Generally speaking, the encounter with the Hellenic tradition, from Lord Byron’s (1788 – 1824) Philhellenism to Pierre de Coubertin’s (1863 – 1937) vision of reinstituting the Olympic Games, involved a great deal of interest in the Hellenic religion and high estimation of its enormous significance for modern societies.81 All this shows that Hellenic polytheism did not end with the collapse of the ancient world but survived and retained its influence in Western Europe. As we shall see, Christian Greece felt this same influence in its own way. With regard to the modern period, there is, nonetheless, a basic difference in the way that the West and the Greeks appropriated antiquity. Although the Western views of Greek Antiquity were decidedly instrumental

Hellenic Polytheism, Hellenism, Hellenic Tradition 47

in shaping how modern Greeks viewed their own past, numerous Greeks voiced considerable concern about the reliability and adequacy of Western interpretations: they were not just passive recipients of Western discourses about the Hellenic tradition. In many instances, the Western reception of antiquity appeared to them almost too specific, underscored by the needs, aims, and exigencies of the West. As a result, they ultimately deemed it a biased one, a misrepresentation of the true nature of ancient Greece and Hellenic civilization. Above all, they were dismayed by distortions in the diachronicity of the Hellenic tradition. The quest of these Greeks was to rediscover the “essence” of Hellenism and its diachronic continuation into modern times — as it was lived and experienced in the Greek areas and by Greeks themselves, not as seen by foreigners (i.e., Western scholars and travelers).82 Some Greeks also accused the foreign scholars of having arbitrarily fragmented Greek history, classifying it to meet Western objectives and failing to do justice to the self-consciousness of the Greeks themselves (e.g., the notorious creation of a “Byzantine Empire” out of the Eastern Roman Empire and the negation of Roman continuity to the East).83 The crux of the issue is who can claim a better understanding of the Hellenic heritage and who can articulate it better today: modern Greeks or West Europeans and foreigners in general? The definitive answer to this dilemma is quite elusive and has long tantalized generations of scholars, not least modern Greeks themselves. Yet it is obvious that various “receptions” of the Hellenic tradition over history, each one with unique presuppositions and objectives, have forced strong differences of opinion to surface again and again. As classical scholar Gregory Nagy recently noted, hinting perhaps at such differences, “Modern Greeks do not study Hellenism, because they live it. Foreigners have to study it first and then to live it.”84

2 Christian Monotheism, Orthodox Christianity, Greek Orthodoxy We Greeks are deeply indebted to St. Paul because he used our language as the first medium of the new teaching, because from the Greek seats of learning of Athens and Corinth and Berea and Salonica, as well as of Ephesus and Antioch, he preached to the whole world the crucified Christ, and because over 1900 years we have borne abundant fruit in Christian life, serving as witnesses and often as martyrs, too, of the Jesus Christ whom Paul preached. We are happy because through these celebrations we wished to express our deep gratitude to Paul for all these things, and to affirm that, following in his steps, we are proud — if I may speak as he did “as a man” — of our sufferings for Christ and the achievements of our race. — Hamilcar S. Alivisatos, general secretary to the Saint Paul Festival Committee of the 1900 Anniversary of the Coming of Saint Paul to Greece (15 – 30 June 1951)1

Alivisatos’s statement makes clear that Orthodox Greeks pride themselves on having a church of apostolic origins. First, the advent, spread, and establishment of Christianity in Greece had an enormous impact on the destiny of Hellenic religion and ancient Greek culture. Second, it was a groundbreaking event with far-reaching consequences, especially in terms of Christianity’s wider dissemination on the European continent. This became more evident after the Christianization of the Roman Empire and its continuation in the East during the Byzantine Empire, in which Orthodox Christianity under the guidance of the Patriarchate of Constantinople was to become not only the established religion but also

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the only accepted one, to the detriment of deviating religious options and choices. Although several points of similarity and continuity linked Hellenism and Christianity, fundamental differences distinguished them in many respects (e.g., in theology, institutional structure, and religious authority). Christian monotheism proved much too strong a rival for Hellenic polytheism. Backed by the state, the Christian Church initiated a wholesale campaign leading to Hellenic polytheism’s suppression. In Greece this process led to the country’s gradual Christianization and to the eclipse of paganism, except for isolated cases in a few regions, popular religion, and the pagan dictates of various individuals. The long-term consequence was not only the establishment of Christianity as the predominant religion of the Greek area in Byzantine and later times — it also became the “official” religion of the modern Greek state and of the Greek people under the aegis of the Orthodox Church of Greece. Thus, in modern times Greece came to be regarded as indisputably Orthodox Christian, not Hellenic, despite the wide promotion of ancient Greek civilization at home and abroad. According to a British observer, Derwas J. Chitty, “To some of us, arriving in newly-liberated Athens in October, 1944, it seemed as if, for the first time in our life, we were in a Christian city.”2 This is perhaps an overstatement and is not quite valid today, yet it points to a predominant religious feature of Greek history, namely Orthodox Christianity. How did this strong Orthodox Christian influence come about?

Historical Aspects The origins of Christianity in Greece go back to the second missionary trip (49 – 51) of the Apostle Paul, who, accompanied by his disciples (Silas, Timothy, and Luke), left Asia Minor and set foot for the first time on European soil. Being under Roman rule at the time, Greece was decidedly no religious tabula rasa. The Christian religion was clearly “imported” to Greece and Europe, although this is often forgotten in current discussions about the continent’s alleged “perennial” Christian character and identity. Paul preached in Philippi (Acts 16, 12 – 40), an important city on the Via Egnatia, the road that crossed the provinces of Illyricum, Macedonia, and Thrace; in Thessalonica (Acts 17, 1 – 9), a significant harbor, also on the Via Egnatia; in Beroea (Acts 17, 10 – 15); in Athens (Acts 17, 16 – 34); and finally in Corinth (Acts 18, 1 – 18). Preferring to spread Christianity in urban

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centers, his strategy was to first approach Jewish immigrants in these cities and then other non-Christians. Thus, Paul founded the first Christian communities in Greece, leaving local disciples to continue his work. In addition, Paul preached in Greece on his third missionary trip between 54 and 58, and very likely visited the communities that he had founded earlier (Acts 20, 1 – 4). Later, he traveled to other parts of Greece as well, including Crete (Acts 27, 7 – 12) and Nicopolis in Epirus (Titus 3, 12). His concern for the Christian communities of Greece is evident from his pastoral letters — one to the Philippians, two to the Thessalonians, and two to the Corinthians — in which he expresses satisfaction with the progress of the new religion (2 Cor. 9, 2 – 4; 1 Thess. 1, 7). Paul was not alone in his missionary efforts in Greece. Another Christian named John was exiled around 95 to the island of Patmos, where he worked on the Book of Revelation (Rev. 1, 9), addressing seven churches of Asia Minor. According to the Apocryphal Acts of Andrew, Apostle Andrew also preached the Gospel in Greece and was eventually crucified in the city of Patras, where he is honored today as its patron saint.3 Church structures were established in Greece at an early stage, including bishoprics (i.e., dioceses of bishops) in major cities. Two of Paul’s pupils, Dionysius the Areopagite and Titus, are reported to have been the first bishops of Athens and Gortyna (Crete), respectively. We also hear of Publius, another bishop of Athens, martyred under Emperor Hadrian (r. 117 – 38), and of Philip, another bishop of Gortyna. A leading figure historically was Dionysius, bishop of Corinth (ca. 160 – 80), who left pastoral letters addressed to the Christian communities of Athens, Sparta, Gortyna, and Knossos (Crete), where a bishop named Pinytus was active.4 Further, two significant Christian Apologists hailing from Athens were Aristides, said to have obtained an audience with Emperor Antoninus Pius (r. 138 – 61), and Athenagoras, who addressed Emperor Marcus Aurelius (r. 161 – 80) and his son Commodus (r. 180 – 92). In all probability, Christians in Greece were in the beginning minorities in a wider pagan environment. Early converts to Christianity probably kept a number of their pagan traditions, as evidenced by problems faced in Corinth and addressed by Paul. But as Origen reported after visiting Greece (including Athens and Corinth) in the third century, Christianity seemed to develop satisfactorily as a new religion in its early phase.5 The growing Christian Church was also confronted with the issue of organization and jurisdictional administration. Usually, bishops in major metropolitan centers (e.g., Thessalonica and Corinth) held priority over

Christian Monotheism, Orthodox Christianity, Greek Orthodoxy 51

those in smaller cities. This later shaped the ranking structure within the church. Church organization entered a new phase once Emperor Constantine I (r. 306 – 37) endorsed Christianity, which later became the official religion of the Roman Empire. Based on Emperor Diocletian’s (r. 284 – 305) earlier administrative division of the empire, a further partition of the province of Illyricum into an Eastern and a Western part took place in 379. The Eastern part included, among other areas, Macedonia, Thessaly, Epirus, Achaea, and Crete — that is, most of today’s Greece. This brought Greece under the political power of the East Roman (Byzantine) Empire but not under the ecclesiastical jurisdiction of the Patriarchate of Constantinople, which had, in the meantime, displaced the old metropolis of Thrace, Heracleia, as the main ecclesiastical center of the East. The result was that Greece stayed under the ecclesiastical jurisdiction of Rome, a matter of continuous dispute in later centuries between the two sees. It was Emperor Leo III (r. 717 – 41) who in 732/33 changed this status and put Eastern Illyricum ecclesiastically under Constantinople. Its patriarchate thus boasted four large dioceses, each with many provinces in its jurisdiction: Pontus, Asia, Thrace, and Eastern Illyricum. The last two covered what is known today as Greece.6 We can document the gradual spread of Christianity in Greece by examining a plethora of archaeological sites and monuments, such as the numerous basilicas, an early type of church building, found in Philippi, Thessalonica, Nicopolis, Christian Thebes (see fig. 2.1), Corinth, Olympia, Paros, Naxos, Gortyna, and other places.7 The catacombs on the island of Milos (third and fourth centuries), a unique case in Greece, probably served as burial sites for Christians.8 The records of who served as bishop in a specific city offer additional evidence of Christian presence, although other areas in the Byzantine Empire, such as Asia Minor, seemed to have had more stable church structures. In the First Ecumenical Council of Nicaea (325), only 3 bishops out of a total of 317 came from Greece.9 The bishop of Thessalonica, a city belonging to Eastern Illyricum, held a leading position and, being under Rome’s ecclesiastical jurisdiction, from 415 onward bore the title of vicar of the pope. Greece’s invasion and settlement by non-Christian Slavic tribes in the late sixth and the seventh centuries created serious demographic problems, resulting in the decline or disappearance of many cities, especially in the south. This undoubtedly led to the reduction of many bishoprics. As a result, only four bishops from southern Greece (Athens, Corinth, Lakedaimon, and Argos) participated in the Sixth Ecumenical Council

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Fig. 2.1. A view of the Basilica of St. Demetrios (second half of the fifth century) in Christian Thebes (today Nea Anchialos), an important Christian center up to the seventh century. Archaeological excavations in this city have yielded a significant number of additional Christian monuments (especially basilicas) with high-quality mosaic floors featuring impressive motifs.

of 680/81 in Constantinople, whereas northern Greece was better represented.10 The Byzantines initiated an assimilation process of the Slavs through various means (such as religious conversion), so that by the tenth century Greece was mostly Christianized and culturally Hellenized.11 Christianity’s dominance in medieval Greece is not only manifested by the numerous surviving churches but also by significant ecclesiastical personalities: Andreas (ca. 660 – 740), archbishop of Gortyna; Arethas of Patras (ca. 850 – ca. 944), archbishop of Caesarea; Nicholas, bishop of Methone (d. ca. 1165); Michael Glykas of Corfu (twelfth century); Eustathios (ca. 1115 – 95/97), archbishop of Thessalonica; Michael Choniates (ca. 1138 – 1222), archbishop of Athens, and his brother Niketas (ca. 1155 – 1215/16); Gregory Palamas (ca. 1296 – 1359), archbishop of Thessalonica; Nikolaos Kavasilas Chamaetos (ca. 1320 – after 1391); and Symeon of Thessalonica (d. 1429), to mention a few. Two brothers, Cyril (ca. 826 – 69) and Methodios (ca. 815 – 84), who undertook the Christianization of Slavs in Central and Eastern Europe, were also from Thessalonica. Other

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sites yield evidence of important monastic foundations that survive today: Mega Spilaion in Peloponnesus, already founded — according to legend — in the fourth century; Megisti Lavra, founded in 963 on Mount Athos, a place that developed later into a famous monastic community; Daphni outside Athens (ninth century); Hosios Loukas in Levadeia (tenth century); Hosios Meletios on Mount Kythairon (eleventh century); Kaisariani in Athens (eleventh century); Nea Moni on Chios (eleventh century); Saint John the Theologian on Patmos (1088); Proussos in Evrytania (twelfth or thirteenth century); the Meteora monastic complex in Thessaly (fourteenth century); and Vlatadon in Thessalonica (fourteenth century). The Great Schism of 1054 between the Eastern Orthodox and the Western Roman Catholic Church was an important event to mark the further development of Christianity. Greece, however, was more affected by the ensuing Latin conquest of Constantinople in 1204, which led to the creation of a rival Latin hierarchy. This brought about a degree of persecution of the Orthodox in the various small Frankish states of Greece, which persisted even after the end of the Latin occupation of Constantinople in 1261.12 Only a few areas of Greece escaped Latin occupation, principally the Despotate of Epirus. The Byzantine recovery of Greece was only partially successful and rather short-lived, as the territory fell prey to the Serb invasions under Czar Stephen Dušan (r. 1331 – 55) and later Ottoman incursions. During the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, Greece was divided into many autonomous or semiautonomous districts, such as the Despotate of Morea, which, despite warfare and conflicts, were able to prosper economically and culturally.13 The later period of the Byzantine Empire, under the Palaeologan dynasty (r. 1259 – 1453), was characterized by an impressive renaissance in many domains, which left its imprint primarily on artistic creation, from Mistra in Peloponnesus and Crete to Mount Athos.14 The Hesychast controversies in the fourteenth century over the human potential of knowing God (and the significance of ascetic practices to this purpose) led to significant developments in Orthodox theology (e.g., concerning the distinction between God’s inaccessible essence and God’s accessible energies). They also demonstrated clearly the different trajectories followed by Orthodox Byzantine and Latin Scholastic theologians, who were active in Western universities (twelfth through fourteenth centuries) and tried to integrate Christian doctrine with Greek philosophical (mainly Aristotelian) ideas.15 *

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The gradual Ottoman expansion and occupation of the Balkan Peninsula initiated a new period in Greece’s religious history (see fig. 2.2). After reaching European soil by seizing Callipoli in 1354, Adrianople in 1361, and Thessalonica in 1430, the Ottomans wrought the Fall of Constantinople in 1453, an event of utmost importance because it spelled the formal end of Byzantium. With the conquest of the Despotate of Morea in 1460, Ottoman control over Greece was complete, although parts of it, such as the island of Corfu, remained under Venetian rule and were never conquered. Crete also remained under Venetian rule until it fell in 1669. Ottoman domination of southern Greece lasted until the nineteenth century, and for northern Greece until the early twentieth century. This situation had an enormous impact on the church in many respects. The Ottomans organized their subjects according to religious communities

Fig. 2.2. An early twentieth-century postcard showing the church of Saint Eleftherios, built in the later fifteenth century in central Athens, most probably soon after the Ottoman conquest of the city. The church was initially devoted to Panagia Gorgoepikoos and is today also known as the “Little Cathedral” (on the left, today’s Cathedral of Athens). It is a particularly interesting monument because it incorporates numerous ancient Greek, Roman, and Byzantine architectural motifs and reliefs in its structure. The erection of this unusual church building was probably conceived as a visual document of Athens’s Christian Byzantine and antique culture and was aimed at the Ottomans.

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(Millet), including the Orthodox religious community (Millet-i-rum), to which various ethnic groups besides Greeks also belonged. The church’s official representative at the Ottoman administration was the patriarch of Constantinople, who gained authority and broad responsibilities over matters beyond the strictly religious sphere, such as civil law and education.16 Such status was conferred in deference to the traditional Muslim policy of granting religious minorities in the empire limited freedom and privileges — as long as they showed loyalty to the Ottoman authority and paid their taxes. This does not mean, however, that Christians enjoyed complete freedom during this period, for Ottoman policies toward Christians were often locally determined. Hence, some parts of Greece (many islands in the Aegean Sea or the area of Mani in Peloponnesus) experienced very loose Ottoman control, whereas in other parts of the Greek mainland things were stricter. For example, it is reported that the Turks of Larissa were so fierce and violent that the local bishop chose not to reside in the city.17 The phenomenon of the Neomartyrs — Orthodox Christians executed by the Turks on religious grounds — shows that the overall situation was far from ideal.18 Despite initial difficulties, the Patriarchate of Constantinople managed to maintain the ecclesiastical organization of Greece during this time.19 From the sixteenth century onward, the patriarchate enjoyed close relations with Russia, an Orthodox empire that supported its coreligionists under Ottoman rule and intervened in many cases (although mainly to serve its own political and religious ambitions). Yet the patriarchate’s close relations with the Sublime Porte, the government of the Ottoman Empire, tarnished its image by subjecting it to corruption and political maneuvering, especially regarding patriarchal elections. These and other phenomena caused people to harbor anticlerical sentiments without slinging arrows at Orthodox Christianity per se. Despite Ottoman domination and concomitant problems, this period was quite productive for theological and intellectual work, especially in terms of the enhanced contacts with Western Europe.20 In the eighteenth century, an emerging intellectual and mercantile elite, educated mostly in Western Europe, initiated a process of reforming Greek society and limiting the church’s importance. Under the influence of the Enlightenment and the French Revolution, this reform movement, usually known as the Neo-Hellenic Enlightenment (1750 – 1821), intended to modernize Greek society and liberate it from Ottoman rule. These visions and thrusts conflicted with the views of the higher echelons of the

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church and various conservative circles, which resisted altering the existing socio-political and ideological establishment.21 A whole new situation arose, however, with the eruption of the Greek War of Independence, an event in which many bold Orthodox clerics, like archimandrite Grigorios Dikaios, alias Papaphlessas (1788 – 1825), played a crucial role. In reprisal, the Turks hanged Gregory V, patriarch of Constantinople (1797 – 98, 1806 – 8, 1818 – 21), on Easter Sunday, April 10, 1821, an act that acquired symbolic significance for the Greeks. With the London Protocol of February 3, 1830, Greece was recognized as a sovereign state, to include Peloponnesus, central Greece with Euboea, and the Cycladic and North Sporades Islands. King Otto von Wittelsbach (1815 – 67), the eighteen-year-old son of the Bavarian Philhellene King Ludwig I (r. 1825 – 48), assumed the Greek throne between 1833 and 1862. Being a minor, he was under the tutelage of three regents between 1833 and 1835, the most important being the jurist Georg von Maurer (1790 – 1872). Although the Bavarians did not abolish the Orthodox Church, they showed a clear disrespect for the country’s Orthodox tradition. Among other things, they closed 394 of the 524 monasteries and confiscated their property. More important, under the influence of a learned Greek cleric, Theoklitos Pharmakides (1784 – 1860), they founded an autocephalous (i.e., fully independent) Orthodox Church of Greece in 1833 through a unilateral split with the Patriarchate of Constantinople, which was still dependent politically on the Ottoman Empire. The rulers declared the Holy Synod the highest administrative organ of the church and demanded that a royal commissioner, as representative of the state, be present at synod meetings and approve its decisions. It was a clear subjugation of the church to the state22 and, simultaneously, the beginning of the nationalization of the Orthodox Church in the Balkans. These developments triggered social unrest and numerous reactions, expressed through popular protest movements, such as that of Christophoros Panayiotopoulos, alias Papoulakos (ca. 1770 – 1861). The Patriarchate of Constantinople initially rejected this unilateral action and refused to recognize an autocephalous Orthodox Church of Greece but finally consented to issue a “Patriarchal Tome” of recognition in 1850.23 Greece’s gradual territorial expansion led inexorably to ecclesiastical enlargement as well. England ceded the Ionian Islands to Greece in 1864, enabling the incorporation of the dioceses there into the Greek Church. Thessaly and part of South Epirus were added to Greece in 1881, and the

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same happened with their dioceses. But when Greece again expanded its territory — by acquiring Crete, another part of Epirus, and a large part of Macedonia, as well as the East and Northeast Aegean Islands in 1913 and Western Thrace in 1919 — the ecclesiastical status of these regions was resolved in a special way. Most of these dioceses (called the “New Lands”) remained under the spiritual jurisdiction of Constantinople. Yet for practical reasons their formal administration and “temporary stewardship” were handed over to the Church of Greece. The arrangement reached between the two churches through the Patriarchal and Synodal Act of September 4, 1928, included a number of provisions and terms; for example, the bishops of the “New Lands” had to invoke the name of the patriarch in liturgy and make up half the membership of the Standing Holy Synod of the Church of Greece (six out of twelve members, serving one term on a rotating basis, under the presidency of the archbishop of Athens and All Greece). The self-governed Monastic Republic of the Holy Mountain Athos, the semiautonomous Church of Crete, and some patriarchal monasteries, however, remained directly under Constantinople’s jurisdiction. The same applied to the Dodecanese Islands, acquired by Greece in 1947 from Italy after World War II. Albeit ethnically identical, relations between Constantinople and Athens have been strained at many junctures, due in large part to the particularly ambivalent ecclesiastical status of the many dioceses in Greek territory.24 The Orthodox Christian faith and Church generally enjoyed privileged status in the Greek state and later acquired constitutional recognition. The National Assemblies at Epidauros (1822), Astros (1823), and Troezene (1827) during the War of Independence voted in such a provision.25 The Constitution of 1844 declared Orthodoxy the “prevailing religion” of the Greek state.26 After Otto’s abdication and during the long reign of King George I (r. 1863 – 1913), the church’s situation generally improved. The Constitution of 1864 stipulated again that the prevailing religion was Orthodox Christianity. Practice of every other known religion was allowed without hindrance, although proselytism or acts against the dominant religion were forbidden. The church gradually ameliorated its stance for many reasons. First, the church itself undertook several initiatives to enhance its appeal within Greek society; for instance, it founded the first Sunday school in 1913 and created the Apostolic Service (an organization for internal and later external mission work) in 1936, which became active especially after World War II. Second, the Greek state repeatedly introduced pertinent legislation

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to support the church and improve its overall condition, such as the law on church parishes in 1910 concerning their administration by both clerics and lay people. It also approved various Constitutional Charters of the Church of Greece (the latest through legislative bill 590 in 1977) to guarantee the church’s administrative autonomy and its relation to the state on the basis of συναλληλία — namely reciprocity, mutual assistance, and cooperation in various domains. It further assisted the church in practical matters, ranging from priests’ salaries to religious and theological education. Two theological faculties exist in Greek universities, one operating in Athens since 1837, and another one in Thessalonica since 1942, in addition to higher ecclesiastical academies and seminaries. Third, the church became a close ideological ally of the state and wholeheartedly supported national policies. The second half of the nineteenth and the early twentieth century witnessed the Μεγάλη Ἰδέα (Great Idea), the irredentist plan of the Greek state aimed at reconstituting Byzantium in national terms. In addition, during the interwar period and succeeding decades, especially during the Metaxas (1936 – 41) and Colonels’ (1967 – 74) dictatorships, the church came to play a vital role in anti-Communist propaganda All this activity resulted in the close collaboration of church and state, the thorough nationalization of the church,27 and the official presentation of the church as the most important bastion of Greek national identity. The privileged status of the church was augmented even further not only by favorable treatment from state authorities but also by its wider appeal among the Greek population. The extensive religious homogeneity of the country supported the church’s immense influence: about 98 percent of the population was at least nominally affiliated with Greek Orthodoxy, according to a 1951 census. Later censuses included no questions about religious affiliation, but it is generally assumed that Greek identification with Orthodoxy has not radically changed since 1951. Thus, the official ideology propagated by both church and state revolved around the inextricable bond between Hellenism and Christianity throughout Greek history. Although many Greeks contested it, this ideology lent strong impetus to identifying Greekness with Orthodoxy. To be Orthodox was considered a sine qua non of being Greek. At times, this ideology and its fallout seriously affected the circumstances of religious minorities in Greece. The state of relations between church and state, close as they were, was not entirely smooth sailing. The presuppositions and the objectives of these two institutions were, and are, far from identical. At times, its closeness to the state proved detrimental to the church, which often fell

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victim to the turbulences of Greek politics and usually paid a price. A case in point is the political schism that divided the supporters of King Constantine I (r. 1913 – 23) and those of Prime Minister Eleftherios Venizelos (1864 – 1936) during World War I, a situation in which the church played an official role by anathematizing Venizelos and his government in Athens in 1916. The church became similarly involved in socio-political and ideological conflicts, such as “the language question” (as evidenced by the “Gospels riots” of 1901 in Athens, caused by two different translations of the Scriptures in demotic Greek).28 Conversely, the church undertook an important ethnarchic role as leader of the nation in critical moments of modern Greek history, such as the time that Archbishop Damaskinos Papandreou (1891 – 1949) served as viceroy for about a year after World War II.29 In the wake of Greek democracy’s reconstitution in 1974, church-state relations entered a new era, marked by heightened tension and both minor and major conflicts over a number of hot topics, such as “automatic divorce” on the grounds of long separation in 1979, the introduction of civil marriage in 1982, the de-penalization of adultery in 1982 and of abortions in 1986, the conflict over the nationalization of ecclesiastic and monastic property in 1987, and the dispute over the omission of data on religious affiliation from personal identity cards in 2000. The rationale for these changes arose from leading political parties and politicians seeking to loosen the bonds between church and state — these were efforts to neutralize the country religiously by pluralizing it, give more rights to religious minorities, and, indeed, to exert the parties’ own political will.30 The final aim was not the abolition of Orthodoxy from Greek society, however, but the religious de-coloring of the country in view of a future multicultural society. There was also extensive criticism launched against the alleged perennial and diachronic national role of the Orthodox Church and its contribution to the survival of the Greek nation. Greece’s active involvement in various transnational organizations, such as the European Union, gave additional impetus to these secularizing changes.31 As expected, the church reacted strongly against these measures and continued to promote the traditional model of church-state relations and its own crucial national role. The church’s position received unintentional support due to radical changes in the former Eastern Bloc between 1989 and 1991, where Orthodox Christianity enjoyed historically strong footholds. The overall religious revival observed there, which naturally included various Orthodox Churches as well as numerous non-Christian

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religions, enhanced the foreseeable role of religion in the new world order. Such a reevaluation of the role of Orthodoxy was positively received in Greek political circles, a milieu mindful of the potential for rapprochement with coreligious countries. Such visions had concrete consequences, such as the European Inter-parliamentary Assembly on Orthodoxy, founded in 1994 through an initiative of the Greek Parliament. This favorable climate enhanced the prospects that Orthodox Christianity would thrive, although it did not completely rule out eventual tension and conflict with the state. Furthermore, defects in the internal church structure, such as those made public in the financial, judicial, and moral scandals of 2005, pressed the need for church reforms regarding transparency and accountability. Despite its internal problems, Orthodoxy’s appeal among the Greek populace remains quite high. To be Orthodox in modern Greece is not only a matter of religious affiliation but also a cultural characteristic that belongs, in a rather abstract way, to a generic sense of Greekness. Orthodoxy remains a dominant cultural trait and permeates everyday life in almost all its official and popular manifestations (see fig. 2.3). Even anticlerical people or professed atheists have no problem occasionally going to church to celebrate major holidays, such as Christmas and Easter, or participating in religious rituals like baptisms, weddings, and funerals. The relatively low percentage of those choosing civil marriage over a traditional religious one indicates the deep cultural roots of Orthodoxy among the Greek public. It is this socio-cultural trait on which the church bases its notion of the “embeddedness” of Orthodoxy in Greek national, historical, and cultural consciousness. Indeed, it is not unusual to witness the revival of Orthodox forms of spirituality, mostly independent of the official church, among young people, intellectuals, artists, and others. The monastic tradition and spirituality of Mount Athos have attracted considerable domestic and international attention in recent decades. The number of monks there, now totaling more than two thousand, began to increase in the early 1970s after decades of continuous decline; further, the educational level of these monks was significantly higher than in the past.32 Both historically and in the present, it would be a mistake to regard Orthodox Christianity as a fully homogeneous and uniform system represented solely by the official church. Numerous forms of Orthodoxy beyond that domain have played an important role on many levels. In modern Greece, this is still evident in the various Old Calendarist groups,

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Fig. 2.3. An Orthodox priest outside a newspaper kiosk (periptero) in central Athens (photo taken from Jan Lukas, ΕΛΛΑΣ, Prague: Artia, n.d.).

which follow the Old Julian instead of the New Style calendar. They eventually separated from the Church of Greece in 1935, unhappy with the church’s 1924 adoption of the New Style calendar (approved by the state in 1923), which changed everything but the dates for Easter and the feasts depending on it. Although independent, the Old Calendarists are basically identical to the Orthodox Church of Greece in terms of doctrine, tradition, and rituals, aside from the calendar question. Thus, apart from the hard-liners within their ranks, their relationship to the church is rather accommodating.33 There also exist other Orthodox organizations operating according to their own rules. These are clearly distinct from and

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feel tension regarding the official church. Such a sense of autonomy and independence characterizes various rigorist groups of varied provenance that defy or oppose the official church, which they accuse of deviating from true Orthodox principles, making compromises with the state, and endorsing modernist and secularist ideas. Rigorism does not represent mainstream Greek Orthodoxy, yet its power to mobilize and put pressure on the church hierarchy is at times remarkable.34 These few examples illustrate the extent to which Greek Orthodoxy is today an amalgam of highly differentiated strands, a coat of many colors. The same can also be observed in past eras. In Byzantium, the Orthodox Church was even more internally varied and multilayered. The monks, for example, represented a prickly subculture that often posed difficulties for the official church. In addition, because Crete and the Ionian Islands spent a long time under Venetian rule, the Greek Orthodox living there were unavoidably exposed to Roman Catholic influences and pressures. The imprint of these influences can be seen today in many facets of religious life, from ritual practices to artistic creation.

Systematic Considerations Let us now turn our attention to some general issues regarding Christianity, its monotheistic character, and the articulation of Christian Orthodoxy in particular. The rise of early Christianity and its quick transformation from a small movement in Palestine into a worldwide religion have occasioned many debates about how it diverged from the other religions in its environment. How did Christianity manage to expand so massively within a relatively short period of time and acquire a structure so remote from its original roots? In recent decades, scholars have put more emphasis on studying the various strands and trajectories based on regional diversity and sensibilities that typify early Christianity rather than those that dominated later on. This presupposes a thorough evaluation of the various “local Christianities”35 in their distinct geographical and cultural settings — in our case, the local Christian communities in Greece — as well as a serious reassessment of their relation to the pagan religious and cultural environment. Attempts at a trans-local unity through a network of support, as well as internal dissent about belief and practice, are not seen as mutually exclusive but as parallel phenomena within the early Christian communities.

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Was Christianity an unprecedented, unique religion in antiquity? If so, how dependent was its development on its immediate religious and cultural environment (i.e., the Hellenistic and Greco-Roman world)? Christianity’s dependence on mystery cults, for example, has also been hotly debated. It is a notorious issue, one tackled from strong religious-ideological perspectives that, nevertheless, bear similarities to one another.36 No doubt, the mystery cults and the early Christian movement shared certain characteristic practices: for example, a preparatory period before initiation; fasting and cathartic rituals; baptism and creation of new names for neophytes; nocturnal and other religious services; communal meals; and secrecy. Both represented a closed circle that provided a sense of community, intimacy, and mutual support to their members. Basic notions and practices of the Christian Eucharist (e.g., eating the flesh and drinking the blood of Christ) are similar to practices in the cult of Dionysus and in the commemoration of his sacrificial death by his devotees. Many parallels (in rituals, motifs, art) have also been drawn between early Christianity and Mithraism, the mystery cult of the Persian sun god Mithras, which is regarded as a rival to Christianity in the late Roman Empire.37 But there were profound differences as well. Mystery-cult doctrine remained rather weak and fluid compared to the importance that doctrinal issues would assume in Christianity, even at an early stage. The same pertains to theology. Although some theological-esoteric formulas existed in mystery cults, this was hardly equivalent to the Christian adoption of articles of faith and the crucial issues of divine revelation and exclusive religious truth. Rites in mystery cults also had, at times, an orgiastic character never given legitimacy in mainline Christianity. Hence, mystery cults were hardly “fully fledged” religions in the Jewish and Christian sense. As Walter Burkert put it, “The constant use of Christianity as a reference system when dealing with the so-called mystery religions leads to distortions as well as partial clarification, obscuring the often radical differences between the two.”38 Not surprisingly, early Christian writers were clearly eager to dissociate Christianity from mystery cults.39 Yet this hardly means that there was no relation at all between the two. In both cases, we are dealing with initially local traditions that gradually acquired supra-regional significance and became increasingly popular within the political unit known as the Roman Empire. Their origins, their conditions of formation and dissemination, and their cultural environment were similar in many respects. This is why they presented quite interesting similarities. Take, for example, the communal banquets that

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took place in various forms not only in mystery cults but also throughout the Greco-Roman world. As was to be expected, the same was done by early Christians, who “met at a meal because that is what groups in the ancient world did. Christians were simply following a pattern found throughout their world.”40 At the same time, they did not simply appropriate the widespread banquet model; they adapted it to their own religious contexts and purposes (as they did with the Eucharist). Thus, by situating Christianity in an antique context, contemporary research does not aim to discredit its uniqueness or regard it as an extended or elaborated mystery cult. It simply acknowledges that Christianity arose and developed in a specific social, cultural, and religious context and, therefore, unavoidably exhibits both parallels and divergence from other religions, cults, and movements of those times. In other words, Christianity, as an “ancient religion,” should be treated as such, and not be idealized and separated from its environment.41 What did characterize Christianity as a new religion, however, were its exclusive monotheistic claims and the universal appeal of its potential for transcending divisions among classes, peoples, societies, and cultures (Gal. 3, 28) — and, thereby, for radically transforming the world. In this regard, it soon overcame its Palestinian origins, and its mission grew into a powerful movement that posed a serious challenge to the pagan world. This brings us to the issue of Christian monotheism and its consequences for polytheism, Hellenic or otherwise. Although this is an issue worth discussing, reasonable objections exist to the usefulness of an absolutely antithetical scheme of polytheism-monotheism.42 Christianity undeniably brought a radical new element into the game, namely the exclusive allegiance to the “one true God” (Mark 12, 28 – 34; Gal. 3, 20), one who came to be regarded as unique, unchallenged, and unparalleled. Yet, according to Christian doctrine, this God is Trinitarian, namely one essence but manifested in three hypostases or persons. How can there be three in one? This formula has been laboriously debated throughout history, giving rise to the most diverse interpretations and applications imaginable. What is obvious is that Christian monotheism did not show itself to be as “strict” and “absolute” as its Jewish and Muslim counterparts. Christianity was regarded as implicitly constituting a special brand of polytheism (tritheism) even though Christians eagerly denied it; instead, they promulgated the advantages of their monotheistic model of a God who was not totally transcendent, but rather one who could approach humans and

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the world through extraordinary events, such as Christ’s incarnation and his two, divine and human, natures in one person. There has been much discussion about whether Christian monotheism posed advantages or disadvantages to a universal state,43 or why polytheism was unable to cope with a spreading and ultimately victorious Christian monotheism.44 Certainly, the confrontation between the two religious systems reveals substantial support for both, emanating from diverse social, political, and intellectual strata and making both systems realistic options in the days of the late Roman Empire. The establishment of Christian monotheism dovetailed nicely, however, with imperial ideology about the universal Roman Empire; accordingly, monotheism gained legitimacy in Byzantium through its principle of oneness as proceeding from the one true and revealed God. This pattern of thought offers up only one true God, one true Christian faith, a single Roman Empire, and a single Roman emperor. This is masterfully summarized by Eusebius of Caesarea in his praise of Emperor Constantine I. Through the power of the Savior, Jesus Christ, he argued, polyarchy in the political domain and polytheism at the religious level, both having a demonic nature, had been exterminated. From then on, one true religion for all peoples, Greeks and barbarians alike, could be propagated across the entire world. Only one political entity, the Roman Empire, had united all peoples under its power and was going to expand throughout the world, distributing the Christian message, all according to divine providence and power.45 Church-state relations in Byzantium exhibited this spirit and were theologically and politically legitimized.46 The self-perception of having the key to a universal, God-given ideology made the Byzantines feel not only superior to other peoples but also reluctant to confer the title of “emperor” on various pretenders in Western Europe (the Frankish king Charlemagne, r. 768 – 814, or the Saxon ruler Otto I, r. 936 – 73) or Eastern Europe (the Grand Prince of Moscow Vasily I, r. 1389 – 1425). Throughout the episodes of church-state relations, each with its particular characteristics and sets of discourse, the strong connection between church and state remained constant throughout the Byzantine period, which was not the case in the Latin West. As an important institution with an elaborated organizational structure,47 the church had sufficient power and was not simply a pawn to the emperor. The alleged Byzantine Caesaropapism (a superior state reigning over the church) fails to adequately address all aspects of church-state relations, for the church had the fortitude to

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oppose imperial policies and render them ineffective (e.g., the numerous attempts at a union with Rome in the Late Byzantine Empire, which, de facto, went undone in the face of intra-ecclesiastical reactions and general public outcry).48 Although the potent historical consequences of Christian monotheism have been the focus of several studies,49 few have dealt with the farreaching consequences of the related phenomenon of Christian Orthodoxy, which unites the notion of a sole authentic Christian faith and the conviction to possess it entirely and without any contamination. Such an examination is especially important for the history of Eastern Orthodox Christianity in general and for Greece in particular. I do not use the Greek term “Orthodoxy” ( Ὀρθοδοξία) in this context to indicate religious conservatism or traditionalism. Rather, it denotes — literally understood — the sole, correct Christian faith, clearly demarcated not only from all other religions but also from all other interpretations of Christianity (Roman Catholic, Protestant, or otherwise). The term also denotes the proper glorification of God through appropriate worship. But this dimension of its meaning, although often reprised, fell somehow into oblivion, and doctrinal correctness was elevated to be Eastern Orthodox Christianity’s defining feature. Throughout its long history, this influential strand of Christianity has presented a number of particular characteristics, such as its own ritual tradition and institutional structures. The belief not only in just one Christian God but rather the correct (“Orthodox”) belief in the one true and Trinitarian Christian God became, nevertheless, the most vital element in this religious system. Preserving the “catholic” — that is, the universal and correct — Christian faith, with all its constituents (Christology, Pneumatology, Ecclesiology, and so on), was elevated to the highest task in the Eastern Orthodox Church. More important, ultimate salvation became dependent on upholding the sole correct Christian faith, uncontaminated from deviant interpretations and influences. The early church, set as it was in polytheistic surroundings, witnessed a considerable variety of tendencies within the nascent Christian movement. Such a pluriformity of opinions and practices was then the norm. But by the fourth century, and into the eighth century, the church leadership ironed out the inconsistencies in much Christian doctrine. What emerged was a compact and coherent Orthodox system with general validity and authority, claiming absolute correctness and demanding complete

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allegiance. Although the instruments of singularizing religious truth and standardizing Christian doctrine did not completely obliterate dissident voices, they did firmly establish Christian Orthodoxy through binding council decisions, such as those of the seven Ecumenical Councils, held between 325 and 787. The restitution of icon veneration in 843 was connected with the “Feast/Triumph of Orthodoxy,” established by the end of the ninth century and celebrated to the present day in the Orthodox world as the “Sunday of Orthodoxy” on the first Sunday of Lent, featuring an impressive procession with icons.50 Texts recited during this feast abound in references to the unique value of Orthodoxy and its unadulterated preservation of true Christian doctrine, exactly as the Church Fathers bequeathed it to subsequent generations. Fidelity to tradition and avoidance of innovation are thus seen as a sine qua non for remaining Orthodox and attaining salvation. Yet, despite the role attached to tradition, it would be amiss to consider Orthodox Christianity as a monolithic system, devoid of any internal variations, plurality, or development. Even within the accepted Orthodox frame there were always elements both of continuity and discontinuity — in other words, many voices and trajectories across an internal plural terrain. These variations are even more observable in the realm of religious practices (e.g., in the celebration of the liturgy in the sixth century and its particular interpretation by Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite).51 Interestingly enough, recent studies of Byzantine theology also seek to disclose its plural face and multiple trajectories.52 Orthodoxy thus became a crucial identity marker among the Byzantines, not only setting them apart from dissident interpretations of Christianity and related movements but also delineating their relationship to the Latin West and the Roman Catholic Church. An ongoing estrangement between Eastern and Western Christianity took place at various intertwined and complex levels — political, cultural, linguistic, intellectual, and ecclesiastical53 — from the fourth century onward. But matters of doctrine, tradition, and practice played a decisive role. Suffice it to mention one theological parting of ways: the promulgation of the Filioque, the belief that the Holy Spirit proceeds not only from God the Father but also from God the Son, Jesus Christ. This theological innovation, which had not been included in the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed of 325/81, was initially added at the Council of Toledo in 589, sanctioned by Frankish theologians in 809, and officially adopted by the Roman Catholic Church in 1014. It attracted severe criticism in the East from the ninth century onward for deviating from the Orthodox tradition that the church councils

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had already established. Many other theological issues triggered major questions between East and West. Most Byzantine discourses emphasized the need to protect Orthodox doctrine from the innovations of the Roman Catholic Church, which were considered damaging and unilateral. The final outcome of this long East-West rivalry was the Great Schism of 1054. Initiated through the mutual excommunications of Cardinal Humbert de Silva Candida (ca. 1000 – 1061) and Michael I Keroullarios (ca. 1000 – 1059), patriarch of Constantinople (1043 – 58), it was considered temporary at the time but became permanent after the sack of Constantinople in 1204 by the Crusaders during the Fourth Crusade and on the coattails of the subsequent Latin infiltration of Byzantium. Before proceeding, it is useful to point to the relatively close vocabularies that both churches have long employed. The Roman Catholic Church, which also regards itself as the sole true church of Christ, lays equal claim to the term “Orthodox.” Yet before the Great Schism, the term was usually reserved for the Eastern Christian Church and seldom used in the Latin West.54 As a result, this term has now come to refer to the Eastern Christian Church alone. The same pertains to the term “Catholic.” Today we place it in the exclusive domain of the Roman Catholic Church, simply labeling its adherents as “Catholics.” Yet this very term, which is of Greek origin and means “universal,” is still used today by the Orthodox Church, which lays equal claim to being the sole true church of Christ with universal range and appeal, resulting in seemingly odd combinations like “Orthodox Catholic Church.” Nevertheless, this is not the way that most people worldwide characterize Orthodox Christians. These few examples point out how, historically, “insiders” and “outsiders” have shaped terminology to define their core values within the broad category of Christian Churches. The East-West separation sparked a fierce estrangement of the two worlds, described in the East as “anti-Westernism,” that was to escalate in the centuries to come. The Byzantine abhorrence of the West reached its peak in early fifteenth century. The party of the anti-Unionists, in resisting repeated attempts at a union with Rome, became quite influential in the Late Byzantine Empire, despite the growing danger of the Ottomans. The West, as a collective unit of civilization, was so negatively depicted that many Byzantines preferred to see the Ottomans capture Constantinople rather than “submit” to the Latin West through a union with Rome. As the Grand Duke Loukas Notaras (d. 1453) railed, he would prefer a

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Muslim turban reigning in the midst of Constantinople to a Latin tiara,55 a vivid example of the prevailing anti-Western spirit of the times. Consequently, numerous Byzantine anti-Unionists strongly reacted against the union of the churches signed during the Council of Ferrara-Florence (1438 – 39); they feared that the loss of Orthodoxy would spell untold negative consequences, so they elevated the Orthodox Church’s preservation to the supreme good and ideal in life. The Byzantine cleric Joseph Bryennios (ca. 1350 – ca. 1431), an ardent opponent of the union with Rome, had earlier expressed this sentiment passionately with the following words: “We will never deny you, O beloved Orthodoxy, nor lie to you, O timehonored reverence, nor walk away from you, O mother piety. We have been born in you, we live in you, and we will die in you. If time asks for it, we will sacrifice ten thousands times our lives for you.”56 Interestingly enough, many Orthodox, especially in Russia, interpreted the subsequent Fall of Constantinople as God’s punishment for betraying Orthodoxy by signing the union in Ferrara-Florence, despite the fact that the decisions of this council were subsequently annulled in the Orthodox East.57 This literal and deeply felt view of Orthodoxy not only struck out against Western Christians but also penetrated attitudes toward Muslims under Ottoman rule. The period defined by the Fall of Constantinople plunged the Greek Orthodox world into an intellectual and cultural chasm. Unable to follow the fast-paced race to modernity occurring in Western Europe, the Orthodox East lagged behind. Modern philosophical and scientific ideas that did manage to reach the East disquieted those in conservative social and ecclesiastical circles. The Copernican heliocentric world system, for example, arrived in the Greek world quite late and was still raising controversy in the early nineteenth century.58 Yet it was impossible to close the channels of Western influence altogether. Greeks visiting or studying in Western Europe were both amazed by its achievements and determined to modernize their own country (or at least render these developments known to their compatriots). Contact between the two worlds thus intensified, reaching a climax in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Meanwhile, various Greek Orthodox circles were far from impressed by all the latest Western developments. They seriously questioned whether the West was the model for modern Greeks to imitate. Their negativity was largely a product of the ongoing polarization of the two worlds. In general, the Orthodox East met with arrogance and contempt from the West. The evaluations of Orthodoxy coming from Western theologians,

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Roman Catholic and Protestant alike, were not very flattering. They depicted Orthodox Greeks as schismatic, superstitious, ritualistic, and ignorant. Organized Roman Catholic and Protestant propaganda was aimed at conversion to their churches and, hence, served Western objectives. These dismissive attitudes left the Orthodox Greeks with an equally negative impression of the Western religious cultures. Many Greek Orthodox circles were already inclined to demonize the West, and this gave them further excuse to do so. The West, collectively and without refined examination, came to symbolize a “fallen” place, culpable for all the problems and evils that plagued the Orthodox East, whether religious, political, or cultural. By far, the greatest sin of the West was its deviation from Orthodoxy. The image of the “wild” West, introducing dangerous innovations into the religious realm, persisted in the Greek Orthodox world as a model to avoid. The question then arose whether a fallen place like the West had anything of value to offer the Orthodox East, even in the nonreligious domain, and further, whether the Orthodox Greeks should feel inferior to the West simply in response to the latter’s impressive development in modern times. Thus, “the sole correct Christian faith” struck on the idea of arguing Orthodoxy’s insuperable value in order to combat admiration for Western progress. The flow of the argument was this: No matter how the West was developing, it represented a culture that, in deviating from the true Christian doctrine, had committed many errors. In fact, the spirit of innovation characterizing the West was the source of all these problems. Because the divide between the two worlds was unbridgeable, it was imprudent for Orthodox Greeks to strive to reach Western standards. On the contrary, Orthodox Greeks were in a much better position than was the West. Harshly afflicted as they were by Ottoman rule, they could not hope to match the mundane achievements of the West. Yet, with God’s grace, they could keep the time-honored Orthodox faith intact and unaltered — the main virtue that counted in such cultural and religious combat. By preserving the sole correct Christian faith, Orthodox Greeks could ascend to “the elect of God,” those who would be rewarded after death for achieving this highest task in life. By contrast, Western Christians’ desertion of Orthodoxy doomed them to damnation. Their numerous achievements would be futile and worthless in terms of eternal life and God’s reward.59 This spirit of inward pride during Ottoman rule appears frequently. This is exactly how the learned Markos Porphyropoulos of Cyprus sought to console his former student Alexander Helladius (b. 1686), a young

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Greek studying in Western Europe who got embroiled in heated defense of Orthodoxy and Greece with the Western scholars and theologians. Porphyropoulos wrote a letter to Helladius around 1714 in which he expostulated his ideas on the cultural comparison of Orthodox Greeks and Western Christians. In his view, Greeks were much better off and tough enough to keep to the Orthodox faith and serve as “witness” to the world. This was an even greater source of pride, he contended, because it was taking place under the hard nose of Ottoman rule. Vain and futile Western progress in many earthly domains (science, philosophy, arts, politics, social prosperity) could never compensate for Orthodoxy’s incomparable value and was to no avail.60 The hieromonk Athanasios Parios (1721 – 1813) framed the same argument several decades later. He was the most ardent opponent of the admirers of Western progress among his Greek contemporaries. He lamented the cultural lag in which the Greek world found itself under Ottoman domination, which led to the penchant for following the Western path of development. Parios foresaw this as catastrophic. For one thing, it was precisely the heretical West that had hindered the Orthodox East. By contrast, the Greek Orthodox people were fully self-sufficient and had no need to imitate the West and its decadent culture. What Parios’s Greece lacked were the zeal, dedication, and fervor of the great Church Fathers of the past. This, in his view, was the only lamentable deficit that Greece exhibited at the turn of the nineteenth century.61 Orthodox anti-Westernism can also be observed in later Greek history, both in official church rhetoric and in independent discourses.62 It is a phenomenon in non-religious contexts as well. Within the church, this notion of Orthodoxy serves as a defensive mechanism against Western and foreign influences, compensates for internal deficits, and, as said before, brings an element of pride to Orthodox Greeks. Many have also assigned themselves the task of reforming the present world order. In sum, the notion of Orthodoxy and its literal understanding have had tremendous socio-historical consequences in Greece’s cultural formation and overall Christian history. It is reasonable to argue, finally, that Byzantine and Greek Orthodoxy’s unique cultural-religious milieu distinguishes it in many ways from other, particularly Western, forms of Christianity. This is not surprising when one looks at their divergent historical trajectories. We can thus pinpoint other distinctions of great socio-cultural significance since Late Antiquity. Historian of Late Antiquity Peter Brown, for instance, located an

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important parting of ways between East and West in the divergent attitudes toward the idea of the holy — the West fixing more precisely and sparingly the manifestations of supernatural power, the East proceeding to an “overproduction” of the holy.63 Roman Catholic theologian Gerhard Podskalsky perceived the major distinction between East and West in their different manners of applying philosophical and critical reasoning to theology (e.g., the development of Scholastic theology in the medieval West, which remained absent from the Byzantine East).64 Moving to the modern period, the Enlightenment, which had such an enormous impact on the face of Western Christianity, left Greek Orthodoxy virtually untouched.65 Needless to say, this sketchy analysis makes clear that Orthodox Christianity also differs fundamentally from the Hellenic religion, which did not feature religious truth and orthodoxy, doctrinal rigidity, and related institutional structures for imposing authority.

Orthodox Christianity, Greek Ethnicity, Greek National Identity The overwhelming presence of Orthodox Christianity in Greek history makes it imperative to discuss the ways in which this religion and its culture have contributed to Greek ethnic and national identity. I should note from the outset that this topic never ceases to stir controversy, particularly regarding the historical continuity of the Greeks from antiquity through Byzantium to the present.66 The modern Greek state is inextricably tied to its dominant religion, Orthodox Christianity. Although the Orthodox Church is officially portrayed as the perennial guardian of the Greek identity and nation,67 numerous Greeks of various ideological provenances point out that such a role for the church is a very recent one and that it should not be portrayed in a totally ahistorical manner. No doubt, there is a connection here, but the key is to assess the real dimensions of the argument.68 What many ecclesiastical, political, and other actors in Greece generally forget is that Christianity has historically had a clearly supra-ethnic and universal character. Its intent was to transcend ethnic, social, cultural, political, and even religious divisions.69 As a result, the Byzantine Empire was a multiethnic conglomerate. Its citizens spoke many different languages, not only in the diverse regions of the empire but also in Constantinople.70 But this did not undermine the unity of the empire. Orthodoxy’s universalism was fully congruent with and closely connected

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to Byzantine political universalism. Although socio-political challenges (from both the West and Orthodox Slavs) repeatedly put it to the test, Orthodox universalism remained a mainstay of Byzantine ideology. In fact, it was John IV the Faster, patriarch of Constantinople (582 – 95), who began using the term “ecumenical” for his office, a title still in use today.71 That he succeeded despite protests from Pope Gregory I (590 – 604) accurately reflects this universal Byzantine orientation. After 1453, the Patriarchate of Constantinople took up the banner of fidelity to this universal tradition. Although in “Greek hands” and promoting Greek culture, it tried to preserve the fundamental universality of Orthodoxy and the supra-ethnic unity of the Orthodox Millet. The nationalization of Orthodoxy, first initiated in Russia by Czar Peter the Great (r. 1682 – 1725), was basically a modern phenomenon. Nationalization went hand in glove with the appearance of the modern nation-state in South Eastern Europe beginning in the nineteenth century.72 The Patriarchate of Constantinople resisted such radical change and even came into conflict with the Greek government in Athens but was unable to reverse the powerful nationalization process. This issue may well be the most serious dilemma to torment the Orthodox world in the future. As we know, there was a close connection between the Hellenic tradition and Christianity (from the time that it began), especially in the East, where the Hellenic culture had spread extensively in Hellenistic times and across the Roman Empire. The Greek language played a major role in the creation of the Christian Bible and the dissemination of the nascent Christian message. The connection picked up strength in the Byzantine Empire, Hellenized in a number of domains, from education and literature to civic administration. The shift from Latin to Greek in official use took place gradually. Emperor Justinian I (r. 527 – 65) began in 535 issuing edicts in Greek, whereas Emperor Heraclius (r. 610 – 41) “Hellenized” the official imperial titulature. Greek was also the vernacular language in most regions of the empire.73 Characteristically, the historian Procopius (ca. 500 – ca. 565) spoke of the Byzantines as “Hellenizing Romans.”74 The use of ancient Greek philosophy in formulating Christian doctrine from the fourth century onward and the role of Hellenic paideia in Christian education illustrate further the special Christian-Hellenic bond.75 The way that Greeks designated themselves is telling. Although it is true that the Byzantines called themselves “Romans” (a tradition that survived beyond the fall of the Byzantine Empire),76 this appellation signified citizenship in the Roman Empire rather than ethnic descent. This

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self-designation of “Roman” was a continuation of law (Constitutio Antoniniana) passed under Emperor M. Aurelius Antoninus or Caracalla (r. 211 – 17) in 212 to extend Roman citizenship to all free persons throughout the empire. Ancient Greeks could take advantage of the law, too, allowing them to become Roman citizens, while retaining their own culture, although they might not speak Latin. Byzantium was called the “Imperium Romanorum” or “Romania,” especially after the dissolution of the West Roman Empire in 476. The Byzantines in the Christianized Roman Empire thus continued the old imperial tradition and shared its political universalism. More important, this is the way that the West viewed Byzantium, at least until the eighth century.77 Those in the East clung to a sense of Hellenic ancestry as a thread in the continuity of Greek heritage and culture back to the times of antiquity. The continued use of Greek language and Hellenic tradition facilitated connection to the past. By contrast, Greek was barely known to the Westerners of medieval times, adding a linguistic barrier to other obstacles that separated East from West. It is no accident that a great Latin Church Father like Augustine (354 – 430) had minimal knowledge of Greek, and for certain he was unfamiliar with the Greek patristic heritage. Loyalty to Hellenic tradition was further strengthened in the East due to separation from the Latin tradition and growing opposition to the West. Especially from the ninth century onward, Western Christians clearly viewed the Byzantines as “Graeci” (Greeks), mostly in a pejorative sense, and called their empire “Imperium Graecorum” (Empire of the Greeks). It is true that Byzantines have also used the term Γραικοί (Greeks) for themselves for cultural reasons, in order to avoid confusion with the term “Hellenes” (pagans),78 but they never rejected Roman identification in terms of the imperial Roman tradition. The contest for Roman sovereignty over the East was thus to become a major issue in the later East-West relations. The Byzantines, on their part, called Western Christians collectively “Latins,” “Franks,” and “Italians,” and applied other less-flattering pejoratives as well. Unavoidably, a gradual semantic shift in the use of the term “Hellene” occurred. Although in Byzantium it officially meant pagan in a polemical sense, the term “Hellene” came to be much preferred over “Roman” by many Byzantines. The multiform revival of Hellenic learning from the ninth century onward led many Byzantines to a strengthened cultural and ethnic — not religious — identification with the Hellenic tradition,79 although they remained Roman in their political ideology. This is evidenced

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by the exquisite use of Greek language by Anna Comnena (1083 – 1148/55), the erudite daughter of Emperor Alexios I Comnenos (r. 1081 – 1118), in characterizing the Byzantines as “Hellenes” in education and language.80 The sack of Constantinople in 1204 by the Crusaders was an important turning point for distinguishing between “Latins” (Western Christians and peoples) and “Hellenes” (Byzantines), who extolled their rich heritage and ancestry in contrast to the “inferior” West. This identification with the Hellenic tradition intensified in the East, as the Byzantine Empire began losing territory from the thirteenth century onward and was confined to territories where basically only Greek was spoken. The Hellenic revival in the Empire of Nicaea (1204 – 61) is a case in point.81 These developments often led to a combination between Roman and Hellenic identities, so that we uncover in the early fifteenth century expressions like “Romhellenes” ( Ῥωμέλληνες).82 Certainly, this era did not represent the birth of modern Greek nationalism. The Byzantines remained bound to their imperial Roman tradition and shunned “nationalism” in the modern sense, for their Hellenic identification was forged in pre-national and pre-modern terms. Nevertheless, both identifications — Romans (for religious-political and legal-administrative purposes) and Hellenes (for ethnic and cultural reasons) — coexisted in the Late Byzantine Empire.83 This “split” continued into later periods of Greek history. Under Ottoman rule, the Patriarchate of Constantinople maintained Roman tradition while promoting Greek culture (Romeic Hellenism). Other ethnic groups living under Ottoman domination became culturally Hellenized to the point of rejecting their own “barbarian” language, speaking only Greek, and Hellenizing their names. Even the Phanariotes, a noblesse de robe in Constantinople and in the Danubian Principalities who were not all ethnic Greeks, became Hellenized and promoted Greek culture. In an response to the Anglican Non-Jurors in 1718, the Orthodox patriarchs of Constantinople, Alexandria, Antioch, and Jerusalem remarked about the various designations of Eastern Orthodox Christians in a non-national sense: “Earlier called Hellenes, today Greeks and New Romans because of the New Rome.”84 The emergence of the Greek national movement in the late eighteenth century, however, initiated a flurry of debate over the appropriate naming of modern Greeks and what was to become their liberated country. Therefore, we find a grab bag of designations competing and coexisting during this period, such as “Romans,” “Hellenes,” and “Greeks.” Weighted by ideological content and historical burden, these terms met

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with a cool reception from various groups of Greeks.85 Those Greeks wanting to remain under the influence of the Enlightenment consequently despised Byzantium, rejected the name “Romans” for themselves, and were more oriented toward Greek Antiquity. Yet this autonomous Hellenic revival caused the Patriarchate of Constantinople to support Byzantine Orthodoxy and Romeic Hellenism, while the term Ρωμιοί/Ρωμηοί (Romeic Greeks) remained an equally popular choice. This linguistic furor attests to the complexity of the issue, which is closely connected to modern Greek cultural and religious antinomies.86 We should not forget that this ferment took place around the dawn of Greek national awakening, and therefore it is often judged retrospectively from a modern national or nationalistic perspective. But what of the alleged national role of the Orthodox Church of Greece? Church and related discourses today draw no distinction between ethnie and nation, between pre-national/pre-modern ethnic and modern national identities. The church addresses the past by looking at the modern period and using national criteria and arguments (as a result of its nationalization in the frame of the modern Greek state). A significant discrepancy in perspectives is thus obvious, a fact that obscures fine distinctions that have made up Greek identities over history. A case in point: there has been much talk about the beneficial role of the church in the survival of the Greek nation under the conditions imposed by the Ottoman Empire. Yet things are not so straightforward. The church did a lot to protect its flock of Orthodox (not necessarily ethnically Greek) followers but without special concern for the fate of the Greek nation. (Greece, by the way, did not exist as a nation-state at that time.) The church was at pains to safeguard Romeic Hellenism and to protect Orthodoxy from Western Christianity and Islam. The Patriarchate of Constantinople did not represent a national church at the time and was therefore reluctant to support a Greek insurrection against the Ottomans. It actually feared the formation of a narrow Greek nation-state, a development that would have been detrimental to Orthodox universality and the Byzantine tradition. Such fears, however, soon became reality. The nationalization of the Orthodox Church in the modern Greek state was a nineteenth-century phenomenon, not one that existed from time immemorial and enjoyed ecclesiastical enthusiasm.87 Yet the nationalization process is so deeply embedded in the church today that contemporary onlookers are tempted to evaluate Greek Orthodox history anachronistically and retrospectively, and hence erroneously, from a modern

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national angle. The effect is that traditional Orthodox universality has been practically forgotten or paid mere lip service.

Byzantium, Orthodox Christianity, and the West Chapter 1 outlined the immense impact that Hellenic tradition has had on the West and its development in modern times. The question is whether the other fountainheads of Greece’s heritage, namely Byzantium and Orthodox Christianity, had a similar impact; or whether they were, at a minimum, more positively received in the West. For several reasons, the answer is mostly negative. One main reason is the estrangement that chilled relations between the two worlds, East and West, from the early Middle Ages onward.88 From the Western point of view, the “heretical Greeks” (Graeci haeretici) in the East were to blame for the schism, the alienation of the churches, and all related problems.89 This animosity was not merely a religious one; rather, it mirrored the continuous broader tension between Rome and Constantinople. It also had to do with claims to Roman imperial continuity. In fact, the East (Byzantium) was where imperial continuity was strongest; by contrast, this continuity was irreparably torn apart in the West in 476, despite Emperor Justinian I’s short-lived reconquista. It was never again possible to reunite the Roman Empire. The West proceeded to develop politically in a wholly new direction. With papal support, various political leaders in the West endeavored to restore Roman continuity, beginning with Charlemagne, crowned emperor by Pope Leo III (795 – 816) in 800.90 Final approval was difficult to obtain from Byzantium, except via politically calculated compromises or various alliances (often through marriage).91 From a Western perspective, furthermore, the Hellenization of Byzantium and the choice of the Greek language over Latin put a stop to the perpetuation of the Roman tradition in the East. True Romans had to use Latin and that was that. Although many in the West admired Byzantium, widespread jealousy and hatred abounded, finding a dramatic outlet in the events of 1204. Despite some solidarity between Eastern and Western Christians on the imminent Ottoman danger, Constantinople fell. Moralizers in the West interpreted this as God’s punishment of the “heretical Greeks of the East.” It is true that Byzantine scholars emigrated to the West and contributed to the dissemination of classical learning.92 The West embraced Hellenic

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tradition during the Renaissance and grew obsessed with archaeomania in the centuries to come. Nevertheless, interest in Byzantium and Orthodoxy not only waned but also divided the camps. Western theologians and scholars expressed interest in the Greek Orthodox world of the day, but basically for their own specific, mostly polemical, purposes.93 In 1557, German humanist, philologist, and historian Hieronymus Wolf (1516 – 80) coined the term “Byzantine Empire,” to denote the East Roman Empire, in an attempt to distinguish medieval Greek history from the ancient Roman one. The term stuck and is in wide use today. The rise of Western modernity, especially during the Enlightenment, made the evaluation of Byzantium even worse. Montesquieu’s (1689 – 1755) The Spirit of the Laws (1748) and Edward Gibbon’s (1737 – 94) History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (1776 – 89) are primary examples. They treated Byzantium as doomed to fail, a veritable den of corruption, full of intrigues, morbid religiosity, superstition, and decadence. It was in this climate that negatively colored terms like “Byzantinism” or “Byzantine intrigues” entered the modern vocabulary.94 Such expressions are still bandied about in both academic and journalistic circles. As we will see later on, Western evaluations of Byzantium and Orthodoxy had a critical effect on how many Greeks from the eighteenth century onward regarded their own past. Western theologians, scholars, and travelers also depicted the Orthodox Church under Ottoman rule in a negative and biased fashion. Traditional Orthodox practices and liturgy came under special attack as superstitious and irrational.95 Yet several Western Philhellenes felt compelled to “help rescue” the Greek Orthodox reputation, although they chose to adhere to the more Romantic idea of ancient Greece that they had in mind. The Orthodox faith of the Greeks offered contrast to the “barbaric” beliefs of the Turks, which helped to raise money for the Greek cause.96 But the Philhellenes avoided serious familiarization with Greek Orthodoxy, a notatypical attitude. Even the serious interest of Lord Byron in Greek Orthodoxy was sporadic, with mostly cultural and political motives.97 Another exception to the depreciation of the Greek Orthodox Church can be found in the idiosyncratic stance of Frederick North, 5th Earl of Guilford (1766 – 1827), a Philhellene active in Greek affairs and founder of the Ionian Academy in Corfu, who even converted to Orthodoxy.98 After the founding of the modern Greek state, the traditional negative image of Byzantium and Orthodox Christianity remained prevalent in the West. Yet the Western focus on Greek Antiquity shifted in several cases

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to view Byzantium and Orthodoxy as inextricable from Greece’s long history. At times, modern Greece captivated the Western imagination as a whole and boosted intellectual ferment in various socio-political constellations.99 For instance, British prime minister William E. Gladstone (1809 – 98) firmly advocated the idea that Europe was founded on the twin poles of Hellenism and Christianity, causing him to rank the place of Turks in Europe quite low. Historian Edward A. Freeman (1823 – 92) joined Gladstone by asserting in 1877 that “free Greece must be extended far beyond the present absurd boundary. Wherever Hellenes form the mass of Christian people that land must be Hellas.”100 He also noted in 1879 that “the hearth and the home of the Greek nation is the Church of Saint Sophia. Till the worship of the Eastern Church again goes up within its walls in the tongue of Chrysostom and Photios, the Greek nation must still be looked on as strangers and pilgrims in their own land.”101 Yet such views, not formulated for the sake of Greek Orthodoxy itself, echoed more the designs of Western powers against the moribund Ottoman Empire (the “Eastern Question”) in connection with the rising Greek nationalism. The negative image of Byzantium and Orthodox Christianity in the West changed radically in the twentieth century, however, when their academic study became institutionalized, returning wide attention to the Orthodox Byzantine world as a whole. Interest in Byzantine art, for example, especially its rich icon tradition and techniques, is en vogue today. International congresses and monumental exhibitions on Byzantium, such as “The Glory of Byzantium,” held at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1997, or “Byzantium 330 – 1453,” held at London’s Royal Academy of Arts in 2008/2009, attest to the reemerging interest in this age. The contemporary Western evaluation of Orthodox Christianity is also more tolerant and positive than in the past. The rise of postcolonial and cultural studies in Western academia has further forced a critical reappraisal of earlier preconceptions and prejudices, including those vis-à-vis Byzantium and Christian Orthodoxy. Can we consider this the end of the story? Rather not. Despite reassessments and self-critical approaches, Western perspectives on the Orthodox East are still tethered to old concepts, classifications, and hard-to-abandon value judgments. Such an assessment is evident in the minor or secondary role still accorded to Byzantium in historical treatments of the idea of Europe. The Carolingian dynasty, the Frankish noble family that consolidated its power in Western Europe (late seventh century through the ninth century), continues to be considered by scholars far more important

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for European integration than Byzantium; the greatest Carolingian monarch, Charlemagne, is regarded as the “first founder” of a united Europe as a political entity. In addition, the appropriation of Greek Antiquity in the West is still often told without reference to the Greek Middle Ages, namely the Byzantine period. In talking about the cultural values of Europe, for example, historian Christian Meier addressed the contribution and significance of the Greco-Roman tradition. He identified many areas in which this influence has been catalytic for Europe, such as democracy, language, freedom, civic culture, public arena, art, reason, science, and philosophy. Yet he made no reference at all to Byzantium, which, after all, preserved classical learning and transmitted it to Western Europe.102 This chronological leap from the present to antiquity (or vice versa) without plumbing the depths of the intervening Byzantine era still remains a conspicuous oversight, in spite of many Western endeavors to enlighten and inform.

3 Judaism, Islam, and Other Religious Cultures It is just such a history that I have tried to show unfolding, a history of forgotten alternatives and wrong choices, of identities assumed and discarded. In this city, the dominant group for centuries was a people who clung to the medieval language of the country from which they had been expelled, yet who felt in Salonica, as rabbi Moses Aroquis put it in 1509, that “to them alone the land was given, and they are its glory and its splendour and its magnificence.” As it happened, God had already given it to the Ottoman sultans so that, in the words of the fifteenthcentury chronicler Asikpashazadé, “the metropolis of unbelief should become a metropolis of Islam.” Before that he had given it to Christians, and in 1912, the city’s Greeks once again gave thanks to God for the triumph of their army. They all claimed the city for themselves in God’s name. Yet it is not said: where God is, there is everything? — Mark Mazower, Salonica1

The magnificent metropolis Salonica or Thessalonica is, indeed, an important port city in northern Greece with a remarkably diverse and cosmopolitan history, a unique meeting place for all three major monotheistic cultures and religions — Christianity, Islam, and Judaism — that also drew together other ethnic and religious subcultures. By no means were Christians the majority of its population at different stages of the city’s modern history. Yet, eventually, the historical multicultural and multireligious character of the city fell victim to nationalism, physical destruction, wars, and other adversities, finally stamping it with a Greek and Orthodox Christian image. From a modern Greek Orthodox perspective, the city’s character has always been Orthodox in its religion and Greek in

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its culture. A modern Greek Orthodox might think Thessalonica’s multiculturalism pertained solely to the conquering armies or peoples that simply “passed” through the city without altering its predominantly Greek Orthodox core culture.2 Most historians and other scholars would hold a diametrically opposed view. It would be rare to find a country, state, or geographical area that is completely homogeneous in its religion or culture. Rather, a jumble of religious and ethnic groups of various provenances is the norm. The same applies to historical and present-day Greece. Major and minor religions alike have a long history in Greece, each with its own distinct culture and “Greek character.” This means that they also interacted in a variety of ways throughout history under the sway of the two predominant religious cultures, Hellenism and Christianity. These religious cultures contributed to and colored the plurality of Greece’s religious landscape, though perhaps not so discernibly at first glance.

Judaism Greece’s Jewish history, stretching back more than 2,300 years, is a pivotal matter. An uninterrupted Jewish presence has long affected Greece’s religious, political, and cultural climate. Such a history, naturally, entails the ordeals that the Jewish people had to endure in periodic clashes with Christianity and, to a lesser degree, Hellenism. Although fruitful encounters between ancient Greeks and Jews certainly existed (e.g., commercial ones), conflict-laden relations became the predominant mode, especially after the second century BCE. The earlier positive image of the Jews as philosophers and legislators turned into a negative and unpopular one from the Hellenistic period onward, not only among the Greeks but also among the Romans.3 Not surprisingly, ancient sources reveal that their pagan neighbors frequently viewed Jews with suspicion and prejudice.4 The advent and later establishment of Christianity led to a climax of antiJewish attitudes. As Basil of Caesarea succinctly summarized the mutual relations among all these religious cultures, “Judaism is at war with Hellenism, and both of them at war with Christianity.”5 Due to their diasporic situation historically, Jews usually held minority status, often with frequently detrimental effects, forcing them to adopt survival mechanisms for coping within their largely foreign religious and cultural environments. A Jewish presence or organized Jewish communi-

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ties existed in Greece before the advent of Christianity. When the Apostle Paul — initially a Hellenized Jew — came to Greece to spread Christianity, he first visited and preached in Jewish synagogues in major cities such as Thessalonica and Beroea. He generally met with negative results; but in Corinth a Jewish couple from Pontus, Aquila and Priscilla, accepted Christianity (Acts 18, 2). Existing records mention a third-century BCE slave named Moschos, son of Moschion the Jew, who went for a night of incubation to a temple in Boeotia, anxious about the process of his liberation.6 But the Jewish presence in Greece appears to go back to earlier centuries. Ancient synagogue ruins have been found in several places, such as on the islands of Delos and Aigina and beneath the Acropolis in the Ancient Agora of Athens.7 A pupil of Aristotle, Clearchus of Soli (Cyprus), further reports a meeting and conversations between Aristotle and a sage Jew in Asia Minor, who spoke excellent Greek, was well educated, and was Greek in soul.8 This story, however, may be entirely fictional.9 The Hellenization of Jews, either in Palestine or in other major urban centers (such as Alexandria in Egypt), picked up steam, not surprisingly, during the Hellenistic era. This came in the wake of Alexander the Great’s conquests and throughout the kingdoms of his epigones.10 Jewish Hellenization also took place in Roman times, giving us such eminent Jewish figures as the philosopher Philo and the historian Flavius Josephus (ca. 37 – ca. 100), who wrote in excellent Greek style, the lingua franca of their day. Translations of the Hebrew Bible into Greek (Septuaginta) first appeared in the second century BCE in the Greek-speaking Jewish community of Alexandria; and the New Testament, the Christian Bible, was written in Koine Greek, a widespread vernacular dialect spoken by both Jews and non-Jews in the eastern Mediterranean in the first century. On the other hand, such productive encounters did not negate the tension and conflict that inevitably arose when Hellenic polytheism chose to confront a strict monotheistic religious culture like Judaism. A case in point is the Maccabean revolt (167 – 160 BCE) in the wake of the Hellenization process and the suppression of Jewish practices (sacrifices, Sabbaths, and feasts), induced by King Antiochos IV Epiphanes (r. 175 – 164 BCE) of Syria, who turned the temple of Yahweh into a temple of Olympian Zeus. In fact, he intervened in an internal Jewish civil war by supporting the Hellenizing Jews against the traditionalist ones.11 The feature of conflict appears again in the repeated Jewish revolts against the Romans (66 – 73, 115 – 17, and 132 – 35), all motivated by ethnic and religious sentiments.

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It is important to distinguish between those Jews who lived in Palestine and those who had been dispersed throughout the Roman Empire, including Greece. The latter spoke either Greek or a Hebrew-Greek dialect (Yevanic) and found their presence in Greece rather uncomplicated. Some even bore Greek names, wrote Greek in Hebrew characters, followed (at least partially) Hellenic customs, and had their own special ritual traditions, such as a separate order of prayer. They also inserted Greek texts into the Jewish liturgy. These Jews are commonly called Romaniotes and constitute the oldest Jewish diaspora group in Greece, which also survived in the Byzantine Empire. In modern times, their main center was in Ioannina,12 but they were also found in Arta, Preveza, Trikala, and other cities. The rise of Christianity and its spread across the Roman Empire cast Jews into a far more difficult situation. Although the new faith stemmed from Judaism and was decidedly monotheistic, Christianity distanced itself early on from Jewish culture and undertook a broad missionary goal to convert pagans, which eventually led to the Christianization of the entire Roman Empire. This process always provoked tension between Christians and Jews, evidenced not only in Apostle Paul’s activities but also in early Christian anti-Jewish polemics, such as those set forth by Melito of Sardes in his Homily on Passover (between 160 and 170). In the Byzantine period, Jews lived in many cities besides Constantinople (Patras, Thessalonica, Thebes, Corinth, Chalkis, Rhodes) and experienced the vicissitudes of a predominantly Christian Empire. Byzantine political authorities, especially from the time of Emperor Justinian I, intervened in Jewish affairs in view of homogenizing the empire. This meddling notwithstanding, Jews were free to possess land and undertake various professions, from the silk industry and medicine to agriculture and international trade. They could also practice their religion, build their synagogues, and form their own communities in relative freedom. Other particular Jewish groups, such as the Samaritans, were also present in Constantinople and Thessalonica.13 This hands-off policy hardly signified the disappearance of anti-Jewish feelings among the Byzantines, who, as Christians, thought that they themselves were the “new Israel,” the new chosen people of God, in place of the Jews. Although imperial edicts imposed conversions under Emperor Heraclius in 632, Leo III in 732, and several others, generally the church insisted on conscious, sincere, and free conversions (canon 8 of the Seventh Ecumenical Council of Nicaea, 787). The primary anti-Jewish

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critique centered on Jesus’s crucifixion by the Jews; this accusation monopolized Christian discourse and Orthodox liturgy for centuries to come, with discriminatory consequences for the Jews. But the overall representation of Jews as “the damned,” popular in Byzantine imagery, was influenced by many factors beyond Christian prejudices.14 Jewish commercial skills were also viewed negatively. Patriarch of Constantinople John Chrysostom (340/50 – 407) issued a characteristic anti-Jewish critique while he was still a presbyter in Antioch (386/7).15 An excellent orator, Chrysostom used all his skills to denounce Judaism and Jewish synagogues. It is possible that his aim was to strengthen the obedience of converted Jews in his own Christian congregation rather than to target ethnic Jews outside it. The impact of his sermons on later anti-Jewish writings (through Latin translations) and anti-Semitic attitudes (even in Nazi Germany) has been significant. Yet it is imperative to situate Chrysostom’s critique within the context of the fourth century and the exigencies of the budding Christian Church. Reports of problems with Judaizing groups (Christian converts who retained elements of Jewish traditions) appear later on, as Patriarch of Constantinople Photios (ca. 810 – after 893) referred in 867 to such groups of persons, the Quartodecimans, and criticized their beliefs and practices.16 The Ottoman period was a turning point in the history of Jews in Greece. The tolerance of the Millet system had enabled Jews to integrate as an autonomous religious community, free from persecution. This pertained, as well, to the Sephardic Jews (fifteen to twenty thousand of them) from Spain and Portugal, who, after being expelled, settled from 1492 onward in the Ottoman Empire, especially in Thessalonica, Constantinople, and Smyrna. They spoke and wrote a particular Ladino (Judeo-Spanish) dialect with additional accretions from other languages, like Turkish and Greek. Their education, culture, and commercial skills gave them the lead among the Jews of Greece, thus absorbing Romaniote and Ashkenazi Jews, the latter having settled in the Late Byzantine Empire from Central Europe. The Sephardim were the first to introduce book printing to the Ottoman Empire, and some held high positions in the Ottoman administration, such as Joseph Nasi (ca. 1524 – 79), the Duke of Naxos and adjacent islands. Jews also controlled a large part of Thessalonica, called “Madre del Israel” (Mother of Israel), including over thirty synagogues and a large cemetery (see fig. 3.1), which by 1912 covered about 324,000 square meters. At

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Fig. 3.1. An early twentieth-century postcard offering a panoramic view of the large, late fifteenth-century Jewish cemetery in Thessalonica. Today the campus of the Aristotelian University of Thessalonica stands there.

times, they made up more than the half the city’s population. An especially colorful character — Sabbatai Zevi (1626 – 76), a Jewish rabbi from Smyrna who settled in Thessalonica — claimed in 1648 to be the longedfor Messiah.17 He acquired a considerable number of convinced followers (Sabbateans) and fostered a wide interest in Jewish mysticism and Kabbalah. The messianic appeal of his message continued in various forms long after he was forced to convert to Islam in 1666, such as among the Dönmeh (crypto-Jews), who, organized in different branches, were particularly active in the Ottoman Empire and later in the Republic of Turkey. The amelioration of Jews’ position in society, politics, and religion led to a new phase of tension with the Orthodox Greeks. Anti-Jewish literature began to appear, such as the Greek translation of a popular Western medieval book by the cleric Nikephoros Theotokis (1731 – 1800), published in Leipzig (1769) and republished several times thereafter.18 A more strongly anti-Jewish book, written by the monk Neophytos, an alleged converted former rabbi, was published in Moldavian (1803) and later in Greek (many reprints later, with additional anti-Jewish appendices).19 It included, among other things, “inside information” on anti-Christian

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Jewish rituals related to the “blood libel”; this part of the book was also translated and published in Italian (1883). Negative images of the Jews circulated widely among the Greek populace, fueled by the words of such popular preachers as Kosmas the Aetolian (1714 – 79), who complained of the Jews’ “evil designs” against Christians generally and him personally. He was particularly inflamed about the everyday coexistence of Jews and Orthodox Greeks and the problems that it caused, such as conflicting holy days.20 Another Greek, Sergios Makraios (1734/40 – 1819), professor at the Patriarchal School of Constantinople, produced a long list of negative attributes of Jews: “Illiterate people, immoral, treacherous, crooks, liars, infamous, sordid, mean, covetous, avaricious, misanthropic, hypocrites, slaves to their passions, arrogant, passionate and worse than the infidels,” while the traditions of the “stupid rabbis” were “full of myths, malignity, lies, superstition, fraud, misanthropy, peerishness, and perversion.”21 Conversely, a leading Greek learned ecclesiastic, Eugenios Voulgaris (1716 – 1806), wrote a treatise on religious tolerance in which he supported the rights of the Jews, contending that the Orthodox, without putting their faith in jeopardy, ought to treat them well and support them in difficult moments.22 But the general view of the Greeks about the Jews was wedded to political circumstance. Jews were considered allies of the Ottomans, thereby contributing to the perpetuation of the enslavement of Orthodox Greeks. Jews were also suspected of hiding behind various Ottoman antiGreek retaliations, such as the hanging of the Patriarch Gregory V in 1821. Even foreign travelers of Jewish origin coming to Ottoman Greece — like the Prussian diplomat Jakob Ludwig Salomon Bartholdy (1779 – 1825), who spoke unfavorably of the intellectual condition of the Greeks at the time23 — were labeled “enemies of the Greek people.” All this accumulated tension found an outlet with the eruption of the Greek War of Independence, resulting in the massacre of numerous Jews and the looting of their properties in Peloponnesus (especially in Tripolis).24 Yet, when the Greek state was founded in 1830, Jews were granted full citizen rights, a pioneering development in Europe at the time. This did not put a stop to anti-Jewish incidents, however, a case in point being that of David Pacifico (1784 – 1854), a Portuguese Jew from Gibraltar with an English passport who had served as consul of Portugal in Athens (1836 – 42). He was also involved in certain dubious commercial and other affairs, thus damaging his reputation and making him unpopular. In 1847,

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the Greek state issued a ban on the popular ritual of burning a Judas in effigy (with its obvious anti-Jewish connotations) on the eve or day of Easter. The government thereby probably intended to avoid insulting the British Lord Lionel Nathan de Rothschild (1808 – 79), who was on a visit to Athens for crucial financial matters. When the police prohibited the ritual on Psyrri Square on Easter day (April 4, 1847), Greek public reaction turned to Pacifico, whose house was on Karaiskaki Street, near the square. The crowd — assuming that he must have been the instigator of this government action — rioted, tore apart his house, and burned down his warehouse. He managed to escape and sought refuge in the British embassy, then claimed exorbitant sums for restitution from the Greek state. British foreign secretary Lord Palmerston (1784 – 1865) supported the claim by sending a naval squadron to blockade the harbor of Piraeus in January 1850. The blockade ended a few months later following protests by France and Russia, and Pacifico was moderately compensated by the Greek government.25 Aside from this incident, the Greek Church officially condemned popular practices, like Judas effigy burning, as contemptible mockeries of Greek Jewish compatriots designed to excite religious passions (encyclical no. 1843 of April 12, 1891).26 Similar encyclicals were issued again in 1910 and 1918. But this did not prohibit anti-Semitic agitation, which was especially evident in the ritual murder accusations and the pogrom against the Jews in Corfu in 1891.27 In Thessalonica, which remained under Ottoman rule until the Greeks captured it in 1912, and where Jews developed immensely during the nineteenth century,28 things evolved differently. Jewish people, fearing discrimination and commercial competition, were wary of Thessalonica’s incorporation into Greece. Fortunately, Prime Minister Eleftherios Venizelos managed to win their support and granted Jews legal benefits and recognition as Greek citizens with equal rights. In 1917, Greece was among the first to sign the Balfour Declaration for an independent Jewish state.29 Despite these favorable measures, Jews faced various adversities in Greece. An accidental fire that swept Thessalonica in August 1917 destroyed a large part of the city, including the Jewish center, thus causing immense and irreparable damage to Jewish prosperity; subsequently, many Jews emigrated abroad. The interwar period additionally witnessed an escalation in anti-Semitic incidents — mob violence in Kavala and Kastoria in 1930, the burning of the Jewish suburb of Campbell in Thessalonica in 1931, and the desecration of synagogues and cemeteries — followed by discrimination, indifference, or complicity by the Greek state and

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public.30 The ethnic composition of certain Jewish communities played a role in their treatment. Sephardic communities in northern Greece were mostly self-contained and resisted the Hellenization process (the imposition of the Greek language and the enforcement of Sunday as a day of rest), which was helped by the further diversification of the area thanks to the arrival of numerous Greek refugees from Eastern Thrace and Asia Minor after the end of the Greco-Turkish War (1919 – 22). By contrast, the heterogeneous and well-assimilated Jewish communities in northwestern and southern Greece, with their Romaniote past, managed to avoid systematic anti-Semitism. Jews were later to experience the tragic consequences of Greece’s occupation by the Axis Powers during World War II, which led to their massive extermination in concentration camps — some fifty thousand Jews from Thessalonica in 1943 and others from Corfu and Rhodes in 1944, amounting to approximately sixty thousand total. This was a blow to the vigorous Jewish presence in Greece.31 There has been general acknowledgement of the role of Archbishop of Athens and All Greece Damaskinos, as well as local metropolitans Gennadios of Thessalonica and Chrysostomos of Zakynthos, in appealing the Jewish cause to the Germans and offering shelter and manifold help to the Jews of that era.32 But during that crucial period, traditional anti-Jewish feelings continued to crop up, with negative side effects for Jewish survival.33 After World War II, the Jewish population diminished substantially in Greece, in part due to emigration abroad. Despite legislation in 1946, the return of confiscated or looted property did not evolve satisfactorily. As an example of lingering anti-Semitism, Jewish tombstones were treated cavalierly in order to repair local churches in Thessalonica. The situation in the provinces, where fewer Jews lived, was even harsher.34 Today’s Greek Jews number about 5,500, are concentrated in Athens and Thessalonica, and are represented by the Central Jewish Council. Their overall situation is much better than it was in the aftermath of World War II. They are now classified as “Greek Jews” only to differentiate them from other Greeks in terms of religious faith. It is today generally acknowledged that many joined the Greek army to fight Italian Fascism and German Nazism or worked in the resistance movement. Monuments commemorating the Holocaust can be found in various Greek cities. Contemporary Greek literary texts also reflect an ongoing evaluation of the Holocaust and of the Jewish people of Greece.35 *

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It is helpful to examine the overall relationship of Judaism to Greece’s two predominant religious cultures, Hellenism and Christianity. A primary bone of contention between Hellenism and Judaism had to do with the divergence between a polytheistic and monotheistic religious culture, including concomitant ritual practices. Ancient Greek authors, especially in Hellenistic times, engaged in occasional diatribes against Jewish religious and cultural traditions and practices, forcing various Jewish authors (such as Josephus) to issue a defense of, or apologies for, their ethnic group.36 But we cannot really talk of a challenge to the ancient Greek world from Judaism: first, because Jews were confined within their own purview and did not exercise missionary zeal; and second, because many Jews were Hellenized in language and were well-versed in philosophy and other disciplines. The Romaniote Jews were highly integrated and acculturated into the Greek world. Aside from anti-Jewish writings, the Jews (especially the Hellenized ones) and Greeks have generally entertained good cultural relations throughout history.37 In addition, Judaism and Hellenism have positively and fruitfully interacted in numerous domains, not only in antiquity but also in modern times, and in various forms, including their secular versions,38 both played a pivotal role in the rise of Western civilization.39 The most serious challenge to Judaism came, however, from the far more troublesome influences of Christianity. Its gradual establishment would plague both Jews and pagans with centuries of Christian intolerance. Educated pagans like Emperor Julian, aware of Jewish and Christian friction, attempted to use it to his advantage. He sought to fight Christianity at the grassroots level and revive paganism by showing solidarity with the Jews — in all probability he intended to rebuild the temple of Jerusalem,40 had his untimely death not intervened. Julian was hardly attracted to Judaism, but he recognized good tactics when he saw them. The notion that Christianity originally had Jewish roots was to play a later role in the attempts to dissociate it completely from the idea of Hellenicity/Greekness. The confluence of religion, society, and politics in the Byzantine and Ottoman eras naturally rendered the selective Christian appropriation of Hellenic tradition a far more important factor in religious and cultural life than did the issue of Christianity’s Jewish origins. Nevertheless, the situation in the modern Greek state was different. Many individuals and movements (e.g., Neopagans), whether moderate or extreme, all claimed credit for attempting to disassociate Christianity’s Jewish past from Hellenism.41 As we shall see, this was to a large extent a reaction

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against the official ideology of Helleno-Christianity promulgated by state and church. The modern opponents of the state-church stance regard the Christian establishment in Greece as an imported Jewish one, having nothing to do with ancestral Hellenic culture, because Hellenism and Judaism represent opposing worldviews. In this context, for example, we hear voices demanding the removal of the Old Testament from school curricula and the Greek Church because it is a Jewish, anti-Hellenic book. An additional strand of thought has arisen in the modern Greek state to perpetuate this duel between Hellenism and Judaism. It is the inflammatory belief in a worldwide Jewish conspiracy for universal control, aimed, among other things, at annihilating Hellenism and Orthodox Christianity. This conspiracy theory not only applies to religion but also involves a web of thought supported ideologically and politically by extreme right groups — one such ideologue, Kostas Plevris, was condemned by Greek courts in December 2007 for inciting racial hatred through his controversial new book about the Jews.42 Greece is home to some independent writers who also contribute to the demonizing of Judaism and the Jews.43 And although Greek anti-Semitism is less virulent than that of its European counterparts, it still has many faces and holds sway in diverse forms — religious, political, social, and cultural.44 The Greek extreme right holds a long-standing grudge. It does not attack Greece’s Christianity in the way that Greek Neopaganism does; rather, it directs its criticisms at how the Christian Church mistreated Hellenic tradition in the past by persecuting Hellenic proponents and destroying their monuments. In other words, they see a fully Hellenized Orthodox Church (and drastic reform) as indispensable to contemporary Greece. The dark side of the argument is the defense of Hellenism by repelling Jewish influences on Christianity and by rejecting Jewish “designs” for universal control. The wider Orthodox Christian milieu in Greece, however, takes the lion’s share in the overall opposition to Judaism. The church has long served to harbor anti-Jewish feelings — a phenomenon not confined to Eastern Orthodoxy alone but also applicable to Christianity as a whole. Anti-Jewish outlook and expression come steadily to the surface in Orthodox circles, including official ones. The widely respected metropolitan of Corinth Panteleimon (Karanikolas) (1919 – 2006) published a book in 1980 entitled Χριστιανοὶ καὶ Ἑβραῖοι (Christians and Jews), reprinted several times and also translated into English. This book presents the Jews as both chief opponents of Christianity and “natural enemies of Hellenism” as a result of their fundamentally incompatible approaches to civilization.

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Through the founding of Freemasonry, Marxism, and the Jehovah’s Witnesses, the argument goes, Jews set out to undermine Christianity and dominate the world in every domain and throughout all social strata. This book, as one can imagine, has stirred considerable reaction in Orthodox circles, with at least one positive comment from a professor of Old Testament studies at the Faculty of Theology of the University of Thessalonica.45 Judeophobia especially characterizes Greek Orthodox rigorists, who develop conspiracy theories about the Jews and their control of the world. Such fears are accorded legitimacy in interpretations of the Book of Revelation and related apocalyptic-eschatological literature.46 Despite these undeniable problems, we can look back in history to discern the other side of the coin, namely cases when Orthodox prelates and believers stepped up to help Jews in need. Such an event took place in 1567 when Metrophanes III, patriarch of Constantinople (1567 – 72, 1579 – 80), reproached Orthodox Christians in Crete. He issued an encyclical to protest their mistreatment of Jews, who, in turn, appealed to the patriarch. The patriarch proclaimed that “those Christians who commit those insolent acts against the Jews are excommunicated from God Almighty and are cursed and are unforgiven and remain bound even after death.”47 No doubt, such a statement did little at the time to eliminate widespread prejudice against Jews, but it does show that Orthodox Christian – Jewish relations should be viewed from a broader angle.48 After all, since 1977 an official dialogue between Orthodox Christianity and Judaism has existed, under the aegis of the Patriarchate of Constantinople.49 We should finally mention that both the Greek Church and the government entertain good relations with the state of Israel, not least because they have vital concerns and interests in this politically turbulent area. It is interesting to note that the historically Greek-controlled Orthodox Patriarchate of Jerusalem functions — according to official Greek discourse — as a promoter of Orthodoxy and Hellenism in the Holy Land. This takes place despite the enhanced demands of the majority of Arab-speaking Orthodox there to gain more access to its higher echelons and administration.

Islam Another major religious culture of Greece, that of Islam, has long been a “special case,” quite different from Judaism in many respects. Islam long

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represented a pervasive monotheistic culture coupled with unprecedented military might. Shortly after the death of the prophet Muhammad in 632, Islam spread like wildfire, reaching European soil and placing the Byzantine Empire under extreme pressure. The Byzantines were known in Arabic sources as “al-Rūm,” namely Romans, a designation that survives today to identify Christians coming from the Near and Middle East. In conquered areas, Christians faced the proverbial double-edged sword. On the one hand, they were persecuted and harassed; on the other hand, they gained the right to practice their faith under certain constraints within the dhimma system (dhimmī means “protected”). This was a characteristic feature of Muslim expansion and specifically of Muslim “tolerance” extended to the “religions of the book,” which included both Christianity and Judaism. It was a principle that Muslims later applied in the Ottoman Empire and elsewhere. Once they were done conquering major centers of Eastern Christianity (Antioch, Alexandria, Jerusalem), Muslim Arabs ventured into Greece as well. They managed to capture Crete around 824, which they kept until 961, when the Byzantines under Emperor Nikephoros II Phokas (r. 963 – 69) regained it. Arab sailors engaged in repeated naval conflicts with the Byzantines during the ninth and tenth centuries, and Arab corsairs often raided the peninsula of Peloponnesus. The main Arab objective, the ultimate bull’s-eye, was Constantinople. Muslim Arabs beleaguered the city in an attempt to capture it several times, first in 669, again in 674 – 78, and yet again in 717 – 18, but without success. Islamic expansion proved successful in that it attracted many peoples and led them to conversion, among others the Mongols and the Turkmen, who began invading Anatolia in the eleventh century and posed a serious challenge to the Byzantine Empire. They kept expanding westward until they captured Callipoli in 1354 and, thus, established a military post on European soil. The rest of the story is fairly well-known. Byzantium gradually weakened politically and militarily, and finally succumbed to a new rising Muslim power, the Ottoman Turks, in 1453. The Ottomans would go on to bring the rest of Greece under their control. They also gained domination over the Balkan Peninsula, which lasted into the early twentieth century. Clearly, the Islamic presence was a long-term factor in shaping Greece’s religious scene. The relationship of both Hellenism and Christianity to Islam is a complex, multifaceted story that evolved over a long time. This evolution should not be confused with the relations that Western Christians had

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with Islam, because each corner of Christian Europe had its own peculiar and distinctive character. Geographically, the Byzantine Empire was a “neighbor” to the Muslim world. Orthodox Christians and Muslims in the Near East or Asia Minor often had no choice but to coexist and interact. Such proximity fostered a certain modus vivendi between Orthodox Christians and Muslims, giving rise to novel ideas like legitimizing Muslim rule over the Orthodox or making plans for an Orthodox-Islamic alliance against the West. So where did Hellenism come into the picture? It certainly had a decisive impact on the development of Islamic thought and culture. A number of Muslim scholars had an excellent command of ancient Greek and borrowed many technical, scientific, and common terms from the language. Equally important was the contribution of the ancient Greek world to the development of Islamic civilization in such scholarly arts as philosophy, natural science, and medicine. The study of Islamic philosophy and science, especially in medieval times, today constitutes a wide area of research. Suffice it to say that the Arabs translated, transcribed, and transmitted many of the ancient Greek texts that eventually reached Western Europe. Yet the Arabs’ high assessment of the ancient Greek world had little connection to Byzantine attitudes toward classical learning, even though the Byzantines, too, played an important role in safeguarding the ancient Greek philosophical, scientific, and cultural heritage. Such fruitful collaborations aside, an equal or greater number of Hellenic polytheistic ideas or frames of reference collided with the absolute monotheism of Islam. This clash often led many conservative Muslim thinkers to dismiss all things Greek. Ancient Greek heritage was received least problematically in the areas of natural science and medicine, deemed indispensable to Islamic development, whereas ancient Greek metaphysics and logic were frequently criticized and rejected.50 Yet the reception and cultivation of ancient Greek traditions, deemed valuable to Arabs, did not automatically spread to the greater Muslim world. For example, the Ottoman Turks were not part of the long Islamic intellectual tradition. Their scientific and intellectual enlightenment took place much later, mostly under West European influence. It is true that Turks in late Ottoman times showed an interest in ancient Greek history and made translations of ancient Greek authors.51 Conversely, there were some translations of Turkish literature into Greek.52 But, in general, there was little genuine literary exchange between Turks and Greeks during the bulk of that period. *

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Let us take a closer look at the historical relations between Orthodox Christianity and Islam in Greece in order to identify long-term trajectories. One of these is the sense of mutual opposition stemming from early encounters in Byzantium and persisting in Greece today. An entire body of polemical treatises refuting Islam developed, starting with Byzantine theologians like John of Damascus (ca. 675 – ca. 753/54) and Niketas Byzantios (second half of the ninth century). Some of these theologians had firsthand knowledge of the new religion, having read the Qur’an, either in the original or in Greek translation. Byzantine emperors John VI Cantacuzenos (r. 1347 – 54) and Manuel II Palaeologus (r. 1391 – 1425) also composed treatises against Islam. Their tone is somewhat milder than that of the theologians, probably due to the pragmatic “cooperation” that had been set up politically to “pacify” both Byzantines and Turks, who lived side by side in many regions.53 The Fall of Constantinople, an epochal event in the consciousness of the Byzantines and subsequently the Greek people,54 initiated a wholly new phase in Orthodox Christian – Muslim relations. Rampant colonization of the Balkans threw Orthodox Christians together with Muslims from outside territories, accompanied by the missionary Dervish zeal to convert Orthodox Christians to Islam. The practice of Janissary levy — selecting the most handsome and intelligent Christian children to be converted to Islam, trained, and put into the military service of the empire — contributed further to the Islamization process. Yet the Balkan region was the scene of much Crypto-Christianity — that is, maintaining the appearance of adherence to Islam (a popular motive being to evade taxes) while covertly keeping to Christian traditions.55 Even those Orthodox Greeks who enjoyed a degree of autonomy and tolerance treated Ottoman rule largely as a burden to be endured. Greeks had a clear sense that they would be subject to harsh measures should they step out of line, although they harbored, not always in silence, the wish to be free. Some Orthodox clerics and monks wrote apocalyptic literature, plentiful in historical detail and colorful oracles, predicting the downfall of the Ottoman Empire. In many such tales, the “blond-haired people from the North,” namely the Orthodox Russians, would come to the rescue, upset Ottoman rule, capture Constantinople, reinstitute the Byzantine Empire, and liberate Greece in heroic fashion.56 It is no wonder, then, that some Greek Orthodox prelates hailed the War of Independence as part of God’s providence for the liberation of the Greeks.57 The date that Greece declared its war for independence — officially assumed to

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have been on March 25, 1821 — is celebrated today as a national feast and coincides with the religious feast of the Annunciation of the Virgin Mary, an overlap of great symbolic significance. The founding of the modern Greek state and its steady territorial expansion proved detrimental to the Ottoman Empire and its Muslim population. Historical and political changes enabled Greeks to gain the upper hand in areas that had been overwhelmingly populated by Muslims. For example, the Treaty of Lausanne between Greece and Turkey in 1923 wrought a major exchange of populations between the two countries (at least 1.2 million Greeks and 400,000 Turks).58 Furthermore, the Greek state approved a policy of national and religious homogenization that called for a coherent, uniform nation-state. This affected many ethnic, religious, and linguistic minority people, including Muslims based in Western Thrace (about 120,000 today). These people constitute the “old Islam” of Greece and are of diverse descent — Turkish, 50 percent; Pomaks or Muslim Slavs, 35 percent; and Roma, 15 percent.59 This homogenization policy left these Muslims, although Greek citizens, socially isolated and on the margins of Greek society for many decades. Recent changes in policy have failed to avert efforts by Greek Muslims to become “Turkicized,” with the help of Turkey itself. A final example of tension involves the building of a modern-day mosque in Athens. Religious figures and politicians, but also ordinary citizens, joined in raucous debate on the issue. Such a mosque was necessary in response to the large number of Muslim immigrants of varied provenance (the “new Islam”) moving into the Greater Athens area in the 1990s with no proper place to fulfill their religious duties.60 Delay in selecting the appropriate place, as well as other red tape, made clear the obstacles that the “Muslim Other” can expect to encounter. This episode is not unrelated to the growing Islamophobia that has spread across many countries around the globe. The treatment of “old” and “new” Islam also reveals ideological undercurrents in dealing with ethno-religious minorities in modern Greek society, where in many cases being “non-Greek” is considered deviant.61 Are tension and conflict the only prominent features to seize on in viewing relations between Orthodox Christianity and Islam in Greece? The image would not be complete without looking at another long-term trajectory, that of rapprochement, mutual influences, and potential alliance. This thrust can be observed from the very beginning. The military

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confrontations between Byzantines and Arabs notwithstanding, the two cultures went on to conduct many cultural, diplomatic, and commercial exchanges. Islamic influences on Byzantium, even in the sensitive realm of theology, are evident. For example, early Byzantine iconoclasm (opposition to religious images) was probably influenced by the Islamic imageless tradition, as were other forms of religious art. A discernable “closeness” between Byzantines and Arabs also began to take shape, progressively alienating both from the West. Arabs saw Byzantium as a world power and a world culture, pretty much on a par with themselves, and viewed the “barbarous” Franks or West European Christians with contempt. Byzantine emperors favored Muslims over Franks on a number of occasions.62 Arabs put on a show of solidarity with the Byzantines during the Crusades and made plain their view of the Franks (alIfranj ) as alien and potentially dangerous. This had to do not only with their own experiences but also with their secondhand knowledge of the sack of Constantinople in 1204.63 A similar rapprochement manifested itself in Turkish mercenaries’ service in the Byzantine army, beginning in the eleventh century. Turkish invasions and expansion led the Byzantines to seek pragmatic relations and alliances with their former adversaries. It is also no surprise that a Muslim quarter and various mosques materialized in Constantinople, one built in 1189 by Emperor Isaakios II Angelos (r. 1185 – 95, 1203 – 4) following an agreement with Sultan Saladin (r. 1174 – 93) for his help, though Crusaders later destroyed the mosque.64 There was also a mosque in Athens in the tenth century, probably built for Arab merchants and craftsmen living there.65 Rapprochement between Orthodox Christianity and Islam also typified attempts to strike up a theological dialogue in the Late Byzantine Empire. Although polemical, the efforts held out hope that the two religions might achieve common ground. Gregory Palamas, archbishop of Thessalonica, exhibited such an attitude in his dialogue with the Chiones, people of unknown identity but certainly converts to Islam. He engaged in these talks around 1354/55, when he was a prisoner at the court of the Ottoman sultan Orkhan (r. 1326 – 59) in Brusa.66 Several other Byzantines sought a common political and theological base for Byzantium and Islam, such as George of Trebizond (1395/96 – ca. 1484) and George Amiroutzes (ca. 1400 – after 1468).67 This closeness also manifested itself in many political alliances, such as the marriage of Theodora (daughter of Emperor John VI Cantacuzenos) to Sultan Orkhan in 1346. We should also not overlook the strong Byzantine anti-Western parties

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who openly supported rapprochement with the Ottomans as a means of evading Western Christians in the Late Byzantine Empire. Additional evidence shows that many Byzantines were more satisfied with Ottoman rule than with the prospect of a Latin conquest that threatened to obliterate their church and its autonomy. There are stark accounts of Orthodox martyrs at the hands of Muslims and Latins, with the Latins often exhibiting far greater religious intolerance and hatred of the Orthodox Church than their Muslim counterparts.68 This anti-Western spirit continued until the siege of Constantinople. This rapprochement “paid back,” proving especially advantageous to the Patriarchate of Constantinople, which gained recognition as the sole Byzantine institution by Sultan Mehmed II the Conqueror (r. 1451 – 81).69 The first patriarch, Gennadios II Scholarios (1454 – 56, 1463, 1464 – 65), held discussions with Mehmed II on theological issues and exposed him to the Orthodox Christian faith.70 The “privileges” accorded the church amounted to a clever move by the Ottomans to approach the conquered Orthodox, thereby forestalling a renewed crusade against them by Western Christians. It was at this juncture of history that Orthodox and Islamic anti-Westernism overlapped, a “marriage of convenience” across otherwise incompatible religious, ethnic, and cultural borders. The rapprochement joining Orthodoxy to Islam got a jolt of religious sanction under Ottoman rule. Those offering justifications, both official and off-the-record, argued that such a strange “alliance” was quite natural — it was the will of God that Byzantium had fallen to the Ottomans. Otherwise, a union between East and West would have sealed the demise of Orthodoxy. Thus, any revolt against Ottoman rule would not only deprive the Orthodox of religious freedom, which they basically enjoyed under Ottoman rule, but would also go against the very will of God. This helps explain the numerous admonishments that Orthodox high clergy issued to Greeks to show obedience to the Ottomans. The most notorious warning, attributed to Anthimos, patriarch of Jerusalem (1788 – 1808), and published in Constantinople in 1798 as Διδασκαλία Πατρική (Paternal Teaching), promoted the concept of “voluntary slavery” (ἐθελοδουλία) — namely a willing acquiescence to Ottoman rule and a denial of any plans for an uprising, all according to the will of God: However, beloved Christians, here again we should see and admire the boundless love of God towards us. See how clearly our Lord, boundless in mercy and all-wise, has undertaken to guard once more the unsullied

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Holy and Orthodox faith of us, the pious, and to save all mankind. He raised out of nothing this powerful empire of the Ottomans, in the place of our Roman Empire which had begun, in a certain way, to cause to deviate from the beliefs of the Orthodox faith, and He raised up the empire of the Ottomans higher than any other kingdom so as to show without doubt that it came about by divine will, and not by the power of man, and to assure all the faithful that in this way He deigned to bring about a great mystery, namely salvation to his chosen people. The all-mighty Lord, then, has placed over us this high kingdom, “for there is no power but of God,” so as to be to the people of the West a bridle, to us the people of the East a means of salvation. For this reason he puts into the heart of the Sultan of these Ottomans an inclination to keep free the religious beliefs of our Orthodox faith.71

Another form of rapprochement relates to syncretistic phenomena in religious practices. It has been observed that Muslims (mainly Pomaks and Bektashi in Thrace) often adopted mostly Christian practices, incorporating them into their ritual corpus, such as baptism for their children, drinking and honoring Christian holy water, making votive offerings in church, visiting Christian shrines and monasteries, conjuring miraculous icons for cure, celebrating Christian feasts and saints (Saint Nicholas, Constantine, and Spyridon; the prophet Elias; the Virgin Mary), and (with a pagan twist) engaging in animal sacrifice for propitiatory purposes.72 It is conceivable that many such elements entered the Muslim religious culture via Christian converts to Islam,73 though the Muslims involved do not see any discrepancy between these practices and their Islamic convictions. So where do things stand? We have seen that relations between Orthodox Christianity and Islam in Greece exhibited an impressive variety of forms and cannot be separated from the socio-political climate in which each of them occurred. Negative evaluations of Greece’s Ottoman past have also had a tremendous impact on the formation of modern Greek culture. Immediately after the foundation of the modern Greek state, there was a systematic effort to erase all traces of Ottoman accretion in the country. Ottoman monuments were routinely abandoned or disguised for secular uses; new Greece was to reacquire its classic splendor. Whereas most people learn that the Parthenon of Athens was a pagan temple, few are informed that it was once a mosque, transformed by the Ottomans (see fig. 3.2). In addition, political tensions between Greece and Turkey in the

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Fig. 3.2. A view of the eastern portico of the Parthenon (engraving from James Stuart/Nicholas Revett, The Antiquities of Athens, London, 1787, vol. 2, chap. 1, pl. 1). It shows the Acropolis with various Ottoman accretions after the Parthenon had been transformed into a mosque. The Acropolis complex also served during the Ottoman period as a residence for the local governor and for a Turkish garrison.

twentieth century have had countless repercussions, down to such matters as the treatment of minorities and religious monuments. Today we can observe the more recent trend of showing off the country’s Ottoman past. For example, the District of Eastern Macedonia and Thrace, the Holy Diocese of Xanthi, and the Mufti Office of Xanthi all got together to support a publication on the Christian, Muslim, and Jewish religious monuments of this prefecture.74 Hopes for a modern dialogue between Greek Orthodoxy and Islam were renewed in the 1990s through the efforts of the Greek archbishop Serapheim (1974 – 98),75 the Patriarchate of Constantinople having already started an official dialogue with Muslims in 1986.76 Greek Orthodox came to realize that Islam and the Muslim world are a part of their own history and destiny, and that their historical coexistence in South Eastern Europe is bound to continue, albeit in evolving forms. Even in an atmosphere sometimes fraught with nationalistic and patriotic agitation, pragmatic moderation generally prevails.

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Other Religious Cultures Aside from the better-known Judaism and Islam, Greece’s religious scene was, and continues to be, a more colorful patchwork of diverse beliefs than its seemingly homogeneous Orthodox facade suggests. Although modern Greece has been predominantly Orthodox, the last two decades have seen, for example, an influx of foreign immigrants, each group with its own distinct provenance, religion, cultural traditions, and practices. This is not to say that a religious “marketplace” of ideas operates unconstrained, but it does show that religious diversity is alive and well in Greece. Be that as it may, the current situation hardly resembles that of ancient Greece, especially during the Hellenistic and Greco-Roman eras. As already mentioned, those periods were marked by religious plurality and fervor. This was the result of an influx of thriving foreign religions and cults, as well as the Roman Empire’s flexible structure and more relaxed religious climate. The polytheistic option of the times enabled “a world full of gods,”77 a real marketplace of coexisting, interacting, and competing religions. It would be false, however, to assume that this plural situation came to an end when Christianity finally took hold. Monotheism, even in its extreme forms, was not coterminous with the immediate establishment of a single religious option and the suppression of all dissident voices. After all, there can be no abrupt termination or extermination of a long-existing religious and cultural order. The establishment of Christianity changed the situation in Byzantium gradually, though perhaps dramatically in the estimation of the ancient world. The new religion had to cope continuously with streams of dissidents and religious splinter groups, no matter how hard it tried to bring them under control (either through incorporation or elimination). This “coping strategy” characterized the religious coalescence of Hellenism and Christianity, as well as their continuous interaction throughout Greek history — sometimes negative, sometimes positive, but never dull. Despite repeated imperial bans on paganism, and ongoing state legislation against it, the pagan world kept bobbing to the surface. It has continually reemerged in multiple forms, a phenomenon that will occupy us in part 2 of this book. Seen in retrospect, paganism represents an extraordinarily resilient religious culture that survived under very adverse conditions. What shaped Byzantine religious thought most was the gradual formulation and standardization of Orthodox doctrine and practice through repeated council decisions and state support. The need for a unified,

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articulated common creed and doctrinal corpus was seen as a prerequisite for the religious unity of the empire and its ideological underpinnings. Yet this ideal was some steps removed from reality, for many found reasons and excuses to remain outside the accepted borders of Byzantine Orthodoxy — some by free choice, others even in the face of condemnation. This brings us to the notion of heresy. Originally, “heresy” was a neutral Greek word denoting the choice of and adherence to a philosophical school of thought or belief. It took on very negative connotations in the early Christian and Byzantine eras and came to mean any deviation from true and accepted church doctrine. Although basically applied within Christianity itself, Christians also used it to castigate Jews and pagans. Byzantine heresy specialists provide fascinating collections and comprehensive lists of the diverse groups that fell into this unfortunate category. But because classification sometimes defied even the classifiers, the term “heresy” served as a rather nebulous umbrella term to be harshly or mildly wielded at whim. Such lists of heresies were never fixed but rather reworked to meet the needs of each period of Byzantine history — from the Refutation of All the Heresies of Epiphanios (ca. 315 – 403), bishop of Salamis on Cyprus, to the Panoplia Dogmatica of Euthymios Zigabenos (ca. 1050 – 1118/20). On the spectrum of orthodoxy and heresy in Byzantium, one can observe unusual overlaps in ethnic provenance and religious dissent. Some groups refused to have their ethnic identity suppressed and sought to differentiate themselves from Byzantium by defying council decisions. The predominance of Monophysitism, the Christological position condemned by the Council of Chalcedon (451), in Syria may account for such behavior in one geographical region. Generally, the rich array of Oriental Orthodox Churches, broadly known also as Nestorians and Monophysites, constitutes a case in point. A panoply of social, economic, cultural, and political factors contributed to religious differentiation. Thus, “heresies” often wore a religious guise to mobilize power or encourage broader social protest movements. Those groups that split from Byzantine Orthodoxy and Byzantium to retain their autonomy were not usually subjected to direct church and state pressures to reunify. Far more problematic was the fate of dissidents, whether groups or individuals, within the Byzantine Empire. Their deviancy in religious and other domains opened them to various forms of condemnation and active persecution. We are not in much of a position today to judge their concrete worldviews and ideas — most information about them derives from their opponents, whose writings consisted of

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one-sided refutations. It is a pity that we cannot find more objective and value-free insights. The real voices of the “small people,” as Byzantinist Hans-Georg Beck called them, are lost to history within the overwhelming framework of the powerful theologians of the Byzantine Church.78 In later times, dissident movements of dualist orientation particularly challenged the religious unity of the Byzantine Empire.79 These movements posed not only a religious but also a political threat to the empire, because of the support that they sometimes received from higher echelons of specific social strata. The first were the Paulicians, a Gnostic dualistic movement, which spread to eastern parts of the empire between the seventh and the ninth centuries. The Bogomils, a parallel Gnostic dualistic movement, spread to Constantinople and Thrace in the tenth century and became quite influential through missionary work elsewhere. They even managed to attract some Orthodox monks and Byzantine aristocrats into their ranks. Emperor Alexios I Comnenos put a stop to the trend, persecuting them actively and publicly executing their leader, Basil, in Constantinople.80 This is the most known case of an official auto-da-fé (burning of a heretic) in Byzantine history. In addition, a treatise attributed to Michael Psellos criticized a group in Thrace called “praying people” (Εὐχῖται), who were presumed devil worshippers. These were probably Messalians, a movement initially condemned in the fourth century, which nonetheless remained influential for several centuries afterward. They rejected the sacraments and put exclusive emphasis on the spiritual power of prayer as a means for attaining perfection.81 Byzantium also harbored a large number of heterodox people and movements.82 Let us not confuse the term “heterodoxy” with heresy. Heresy, once more, in the Christian context indicates deviation from Orthodoxy, the correct and accepted faith. Heterodoxy requires, perhaps, a subtler understanding, for it basically pertains to the non-Christian domain. Heterodox groups, such as surviving pagans, particularly focused on a number of religious practices that church authorities found hard to control regardless of condemnation or persecution. Progressive Christianization failed to eradicate heterodox practices, which knew no particular ethnic bounds and which continued to survive in parallel with Christian practices and religiosity, as we shall see in chapter 6. The following example may illustrate this. As already mentioned, nonChristian Slavic tribes invaded Greece, settling in Thrace, Macedonia, Thessaly, and Peloponnesus. Their arrival wrought significant demographic, linguistic, and cultural changes. Being fond of their own Slavic

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pagan ways, they sometimes took on pagan remnants from the Hellenic past as well. The Athonite biography of George the Hagiorite from Georgia (eleventh century) refers to pagan Bulgars in the village Livadia who, within the perimeter of the Holy Mountain Athos, worshipped the marble effigy of a woman. This cult had survived “from the earliest times” — that is, until George smashed the effigy to pieces. If we are to attribute veracity to this story, this particular Bulgaro-Slav rural population adopted the Hellenic cult that they found in the Greek areas where they settled, and successfully evaded the Christianization effort that had begun in 864.83 Because pagan beliefs were widespread among early Bulgars,84 it is no surprise that some sought to partake of the “comfort food” of the pagan practices of their adopted homeland. The official Byzantine policy from the ninth century onward was to assimilate and Christianize the Slavs by integrating them into the empire. In the early tenth century, Emperor Leo VI the Wise (r. 886 – 912) stated that Emperor Basil I (r. 867 – 86) had persuaded the Slavs in the Byzantine Empire to leave their ancient mores and traditions behind and finally baptized them. To hedge his bet, he also imposed a Hellenization process (Γραικώσας), enabling him to enlist Slavs into Byzantine military service and, thus, avoid unnecessary conflicts with them.85 There is also evidence of bilingualism (Greek and Slavonic) at the time, beneficial not only for preserving ethnic good will but also for hastening the spread of Christianity.86 Yet, despite baptism and acceptance of Christian rituals, it is very likely that peasants and farmers kept secretly to their pagan cults, performing ancient rites and remaining stolidly Slavic at heart. Another religious group that made its mark on the Byzantine Empire was Western Christians. They resided in different parts of the Byzantine Empire (including the district of Pera in Constantinople) and had networking capabilities in many commercial and military realms. The capture of Constantinople in 1204 and the establishment of a Latin emperor and church hierarchy in Byzantium signified a major development. It also directly affected Greece, a crossroads of significance to the West because it had earlier fallen under the religious jurisdiction of Rome as part of the province of Eastern Illyricum. Because some Frankish seigneuries continued to operate in Greece after the Byzantines recaptured Constantinople in 1261, Latin bishops remained in those areas until the Ottomans overtook Greece. Some areas of Greece (Crete, and the Ionian and Cycladic Islands) long remained under Venetian control, suggesting that Western religious influences were both strong and pervasive there. Some of the

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Roman Catholic communities extant in Greece today, such as in the Cyclades, trace their history back to this period.87 Although strong anti-Western feelings emanated from Orthodox Christians first in Byzantium and later in Greece, it would be wrong to construct an insurmountable mental barrier between the two worlds. The tension between East and West and their eventual separation still left the door open for fruitful encounters in later centuries. Many Byzantines were eager to keep abreast of the progress being achieved in the West. Demetrios Kydones (ca. 1324 – ca. 1398), later a convert to Catholicism, learned Latin from a Dominican monk residing in Pera in order to read and translate Thomas Aquinas (1224 – 74) into Greek.88 The most eminent Byzantine to convert to Catholicism was Cardinal Bessarion (1403 – 72), the former archbishop of Nicaea, who left an indelible legacy as a humanist in the West, collecting Greek manuscripts and disseminating Greek culture. But admittedly, from a quantitative point of view, anti-Western sentiment outweighed East-West interaction in the Late Byzantine Empire. Sentiment did not reverse itself under Ottoman rule. Historical Roman Catholic communities, mostly in the Cyclades, tried to keep fairly good relations with the Ottoman authorities by paying tributes and showing loyalty.89 At the same time, many Roman Catholic missionaries, chiefly Jesuits and Capuchins, sought to win converts from among Orthodox Greeks. Missionary activity was a staple Latin policy of this period, as evidenced by the opening of the Collegio Greco di S. Atanasio in Rome by Pope Gregory XIII (1572 – 85) in 1577 to educate Greek Orthodox converts to Catholicism. Rome attempted to enhance its influence in the East from the sixteenth century onward, an unwelcome move that led to increasing conflict with the Orthodox — witness the execution of Patriarch of Constantinople Cyril Loukaris (1572 – 1638) by the Ottomans, probably at the instigation of the Jesuits and his other opponents.90 Roman Catholics also suffered during political events occurring in the Ottoman Empire, such as the Russo-Turkish War of 1768 – 74 and the occupation of the Cyclades by the Russian fleet. Roman Catholics, especially those on the islands of Syros and Tinos (about sixteen thousand at that time), opposed the Greek War of Independence, which threatened the existing socio-political order and their own status — a stance that re-triggered anti-Catholic sentiments and actions by the Orthodox Greeks. An irony of history, perhaps, was that the first king of Greece, Otto, was a devout Catholic. His religious affiliation sparked the “Philorthodox conspiracy” of 1839 – 40, a plan either

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to force Otto’s conversion to Orthodoxy under penalty of abdication or to proceed to the election of a new, Orthodox king. Despite simmering Orthodox anti-Catholicism at the turn of the eighteenth century, the East and West maintained a healthy interchange, especially in the realm of religious literature. Popular religious tracts coming out of the West were translated and widely circulated in Greece. Although later viewed in the twentieth century as a deviation from authentic Orthodox ethos and criteria, Orthodox Christians at the time did not see exchanging religious literature with their Western counterparts as abandonment or betrayal of tradition. The monk Nikodemos Agioreites (1749 – 1809) was thus involved in the translation of Roman Catholic spiritual tomes91 yet was still canonized by the Orthodox Church of Greece in 1961. Another branch of Western Christians, the Protestants, also got into the act at that time, or at least tried to. Their early opposition to Rome led them to seek support in the Orthodox East. Lutheran theologians from Tübingen contacted Constantinople in the second half of the sixteenth century with hopes of initiating an exchange of theological ideas and a rapprochement of the two churches, ultimately with no significant practical results.92 This did not discourage various other Protestant groups and churches — mainly Calvinists, Anglicans, and German Pietists — from trying their hand in the East in the centuries to come. Taking a page from the Roman Catholic “handbook” of proselytizing, they invited Greek students to study abroad and sent along chaplains with commercial companies or diplomatic missions to the Levant. The Protestants also translated the Bible into vernacular Greek and were happy to distribute it to the Greek Orthodox public, drawing the extreme displeasure of the Patriarchate of Constantinople. This infiltration policy reached a peak in nineteenth-century Greece through the dissemination of a wide range of religious literature in Greek and the systematic activities of missionary Bible societies, such as those from Great Britain and the United States. These efforts have made steady, if not major, inroads in the creation of Protestant communities in Greece since the nineteenth century.93 The foundation of the modern Greek state initiated a new phase in the fate of non-Orthodox communities. This happened, first, because the Orthodox Church felt confident of its privileged status vis-à-vis religious minorities, and, second, because the Greek state followed well into the twentieth century a policy of national and religious homogenization as

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its territory expanded steadily.94 The government’s main objective was not only to make the entire population both Greek and Orthodox but also to liberate the populations of Greek descent (ὁμογενεῖς) and other Rum Orthodox living outside Greece and incorporate them into the Greek state. The proudly Greek tenor of the times led Greek census takers to inadequately address the ethno-linguistic diversity of the country.95 Yet, without calling the privileged status of the church into question, the issue of Greek citizenship in the newborn Greek state was gradually separated from membership in the Orthodox Church and defined in more secular terms.96 But the nationalization of the Orthodox Church and its stout support by the Greek state bestowed special status on the church in comparison to minority religions. The homogenization policy of the state also paid back in the long run. Unquestionably, the church enjoyed and still enjoys wide social appeal, accounting for the huge numbers of people who consider themselves Orthodox. Thus, modern Greeks, regardless of what they might believe or practice, are usually automatically stereotyped as Orthodox Christians. As a Greek Orthodox once said, “Personally, I am an atheist; but, because I am Greek, I am of course a member of the Orthodox Church.”97 Greece’s strong Orthodox orientation could not help but seriously affect religious minorities in the country. Roman Catholic schools became an issue repeatedly discussed in the Greek Parliament during the nineteenth century. Protestants had also initiated prayer meetings and opened some schools,98 such as the Evangelical Gymnasium by Jonas King (1792 – 1869) and Greece’s first girl’s school by John-Henry Hill (1791 – 1882), both in 1831. Over time, many of these endeavors faced serious problems, either because of discriminatory pressure or lack of followers. King, also serving as American consul to Greece (1851 – 58), was convicted, excommunicated, and expelled from Athens. But he returned to form a group of Greek Protestant preachers whose work drew predictably harsh criticism from the church. The Greek Evangelical Church was founded in 1858. Protestants built their first assembly hall in Athens in 1871, with limited acceptance, and an eminent Greek Protestant, Michalis Kalopothakis (1825 – 1911), preached there until his death. On March 22, 1891, the church issued encyclical no. 1686 to condemn the activities of non-Orthodox (Protestant) groups in Greece,99 in part to combat their effectiveness in conducting missionary activities. To a large extent, Greek Protestantism had actually taken root in Asia Minor and Pontus. When numerous converts settled in Greece after 1923, they contributed both to the strengthening of already

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existing Protestant communities and to the creation of new ones. This was the case in Katerini, which still has a lively and active Protestant community today.100 These developments led to the foundation of a new Panhellenic Evangelical Alliance in Greece in 1924. Protestants continued to have problems well into the twentieth century,101 the larger denominations (Evangelicals) drawing less fire and disdain than the small ones, particularly the Pentecostals.102 Admittedly, these were not the only cases of religious intolerance in the modern Greek state. A classic example is the excommunication and imprisonment of an Orthodox cleric, Theophilos Kairis (1784 – 1853), whose rationalistic religio-philosophical system, Theosebism, formulated under the influence of deism and the cultic tradition of the French Revolution, apparently threatened Orthodox tradition and doctrine.103 The church even condemned an Orthodox popular lay preacher, Apostolos Makrakis (1831 – 1905), for some of his doctrines, although his legacy remained influential in Greece and abroad. But things were harsher for the nonOrthodox operating in Greece. A law (1363 of 1938 as amended in law 1672 of 1939) prohibiting proselytism against the Orthodox Church dated back to the Metaxas dictatorship. Designed to regulate the affairs of nonOrthodox minorities, in recent years this law attracted heated reactions domestically and abroad and was finally changed. One feature of this law was to prohibit the erection of a church to serve non-Orthodox minorities without the prior permission of an “appropriate recognized authority.” This usually meant that the local church and bishop could easily block the entire process. The growing liberalization of Greek society and the loosening of the strong bonds between church and state inherent in the Constitution of 1975 benefited religious minorities in the country. The decision in 2000 to exclude religious affiliation from national identity cards for Greek citizens, along with Greece’s membership in the European Union and compliance with international treaties and standards, also contributed to these changes. This is not to say that minority rights are still not in need of improvement. Jehovah’s Witnesses (about thirty thousand in Greece today) came into disfavor, in part, because of their refusal to enter obligatory military service. The problem was not solved until the European Court for Human Rights in Strasbourg charged Greece with a human rights violation; hence, alternative civil service for conscientious objectors, religious or otherwise, was allowed. Despite these problems, overall, Greece’s record of human rights has been judged satisfactory.104

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Fig. 3.3. A booklet published in 1994 by the Apostolic Service of the Church of Greece denouncing various “destructive cults” and “new religious movements,” and pointing to the dangers that they pose to Orthodox Greeks, their society, and their culture.

Whereas Greece’s historical religious minorities are better protected from discrimination, novel religious groups and cults seeking recognition in recent decades have had a harder time of it. The church formed a special committee on anti-heretical action to voice its concerns about “destructive cults” and “dangerous sects” spreading on Greek territory, and to take countermeasures (see fig. 3.3). Thus, when Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh (1931 – 90), founder of the syncretistic religio-philosophical movement known as Osho, was banished from the United States in 1986 and

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spent time on the island of Crete, Orthodox circles went into an uproar, demanding and attaining his expulsion. A 1993 document leaked from the Greek Intelligence Service listing potentially dangerous religious groups created additional protest, since it made clear the intricate and still ongoing bond between church and state. Additionally, in 1997 the courts prohibited operations of KEFE (Center of Applied Philosophy), which represented Scientology in Greece. The situation became even more dramatic in the 1990s when a mass of foreign immigrants settled in Greece, significantly altering its population structure. Although the 1991 census calculated that foreigners made up 2 percent of Greece’s population, the 2001 census showed this figure to be between 7 and 9 percent, of which very few people come from EU countries.105 This had an immediate effect on the Greek religious scene, engendering debates like the one mentioned earlier over the erection of a mosque in Athens. It is obvious that Greece faces a long-term and perhaps rocky process in moving toward a multicultural society that can promote the rights of both old and new religious minorities. In closing this chapter, I find it necessary to assess, in brief outline, the historical and contemporary conditions that characterize the relationship between Greek Orthodoxy and religious plurality. It should be obvious by now that the Orthodox Church, particularly in Byzantium and contemporary Greece, has been no advocate of religious plurality. The notion of Orthodoxy — namely the conviction of possessing the sole correct Christian faith — has been a real hindrance to the acceptance of religious differences and dissenting views. Thus, some theorists have posited an inherent connection between Orthodoxy and anti-plural attitudes, claiming that Orthodoxy is — by definition and intrinsically — contrary to the idea of individual human rights, so adamant is its sense of community and possession of the element of unique religious truth.106 Such categorical and essentialist classifications of Greek Orthodoxy are, however, problematic in many respects. They overlook certain historical manifestations of Greek Orthodoxy and the specific socio-political constellations in which it operated. Religions are not immutable essences that lie beyond historical coordinates. On the contrary, they are subject to the inexorable laws of change, just like any other socio-cultural phenomenon. The same pertains to Greek Orthodoxy. Its attitudes toward other religions have been underscored by the respective socio-historical contexts in

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which it was found. Its alleged “immutable and anti-plural essence” is just that, alleged, but not quite what actually is. By looking deeply at Orthodox Christian history, we can thus find causality for its anti-plural stances and attitudes. The Orthodox Church grew accustomed to living side by side with a strong political unit, whether it was called Byzantium, the Ottoman Empire, or the modern Greek state. In all cases, the church was dependent on the rule of a demanding state and enjoyed, mutatis mutandis, a privileged status. Unlike the Roman Catholic and Protestant Churches, the Orthodox Church must still learn to live “under one roof ” with other pretenders to religious truth, Christian or otherwise, and to share the entire body of believers with them. Never feeling itself seriously challenged by other Christian Churches or by non-Christian religions internally, the Orthodox Church preserved its privileges historically without major interruption: hence its reluctance to broaden its religious caliber by learning to coexist with other religions, both Christian and non-Christian. In the vernacular, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. We can see this fundamental difference in outlook by turning our attention to the example of Germany — a country characterized by religious pluralism (at least today), where Roman Catholics and Protestants coexist and interact with a degree of equanimity, and where Judaism, Islam, and most minor religious groups are reasonably well tolerated in the shadow of a tumultuous past. Germany’s socio-historical evolution has had enormous consequences for the coexistence of Christian Churches and societal pluralization. Roman Catholicism and Protestantism went beyond a dreadful period of confrontation (the “religious wars” in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries) and, since then, have gradually changed their selfperceptions and their mutual understanding. This kind of interaction is exactly what has been missing in Greece historically. The lack of interaction can explain away some of the deficits in the area of equal rights for religious minorities. But this situation is due to specific external sociohistorical factors and parameters, not primarily to the anti-plural “essence” of Orthodox Christianity as such.107

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Pa rt I I

Hellenism and Christianity Interactions Across History

In our context, interaction signifies mutual actions of all sorts (positive, negative, explicit, implicit, planned, random, and so on) undertaken by actors belonging to two different but coexisting cultures. Because contact is unavoidable, both cultures feel the effects of these actions and are shaped accordingly. This process may include conflictual engagements, assimilating policies, occasional mergings, new formations, individual trajectories, and numerous other phenomena. The actors coming from these cultures take on these roles for a wide range of reasons — from necessity, defense, and curiosity to demarcation, enmity, and decided opposition. Such was the case with the two core, historically articulated religious cultures of Greece — Hellenism and Christianity. The encounter between these two was of paramount importance in shaping Greece’s religious and cultural profile throughout its entire history and into the present. Let us turn our attention both to the complex modes of interaction that fused these two distinct cultures and to their long-term consequences. There are many ways to examine this topic. My approach in this diachronic endeavor is to combine both a vertical-historical and a horizontal-systematic perspective. The historical approach takes into account the multifaceted, multilayered interactions between Hellenism and Christianity from antiquity to the present through discrete chronological periods: ancient, up to 330 CE; Byzantine, 330 – 1453; Ottoman, 1453 – 1830; and modern, 1830 until today. This somewhat conventional periodization does not imply a hermetic separation of the various phases of Greece’s history. On the contrary, it highlights continuities in patterns of thought and action beyond temporal limits, without negating obvious transitions and differences. It is my conviction that one can find definite lines of continuity in Greece’s religious history. Thus, my systematic approach to this subject

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begins with the assumption that we can locate certain modes of interaction between Hellenism and Christianity in every period of Greek history. This is not to belittle differences that arose from specific socio-historical events and developments, as well as other aggregate influences. But it is important to realize that not only did Hellenism and Christianity interact diachronically; their early forms of encounter also served as models to subsequent generations seeking more refined modes of interaction. By this I suggest a sort of “domino theory” — that diverse actors of later periods, aware of early modes of interaction, oriented themselves accordingly and modeled their views and actions because of the past. For example, when Georgios Gemistos-Plethon initiated a pagan revival in the Late Byzantine period, as we shall see in chapter 7, he reignited a long antiChristian tradition. No doubt, he was familiar with the early conflict between Hellenism and Christianity. His action seized on a particular mode for a contemporary purpose, thus perpetuating in his own way the conflict between these two religious cultures. Looking at Greece’s history as a whole, we can locate four basic clusters of such modes of interaction between Hellenism and Christianity. We will examine each of them in the remaining four chapters. As noted before, the reader should recognize that these clusters are not strictly separated from one another but rather overlap in many respects. Nor are they rigid categories of differences or a hierarchical “chart” of regularities that correlate in Hellenic and Christian history. Their aim is to listen for the pitch, tone, and sheer complexity of many voices and the latent interconnections that echo in this sound. Another matter of author caveat: these modes of interaction are conceptual constructs, with some degree of arbitrariness and relativity. They try to bring a modicum of “order” to multiple phenomena. These caveats gain in significance when we look at the backgrounds and epochs that our historical actors from the two religious cultures represent. These actors were embedded in specific social, cultural, and institutional contexts and were also the purveyors of various forms of thought and action. In this, relations between Hellenism and Christianity are not examined in a static and ahistorical manner. Indeed, because human action is rarely uniform and tautological, we can expect variation to occur within the life span of a single individual whose “sins” of commission or omission altered history. Such an actor may have found Hellenism and Christianity incompatible at one stage of his or her life, then reversed course later on. The same actor may have also exhibited different attitudes at the same time for specific

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purposes. The foreseeable result for some historical figures was thus several modes of interaction in a lifetime. Religious cultures besides the two dominant ones could have played an additional role in this process. When we talk about religious cultures, what specific “stage props” do we select to demonstrate the various modes of interaction between Hellenism and Christianity? They will not be limited to ideas, arguments, theories, and doctrines but also will include the repertoire of religious practices, the manifold domain of artistic creation, the role of religious communities and institutions, individual and idiosyncratic cases, and everyday life. Not all the examples are purely “religious”; rather, many are taken from the broader historical-cultural scenery of Greece’s varied history. Another consideration is that, historically speaking, the relations between Hellenism and Christianity are asymmetrical. Christianity soon became the dominating force that could pick and choose from Hellenism. This dynamic is even more important in terms of the conflict between the two. In fact, the eventual fate of paganism was brought about by “an opposing force, an urgent one, determined on its extinction,” as historian Ramsay MacMullen characteristically noted.1 One could say that Hellenism developed an “inferiority complex” from which it never fully recovered, even if it survived the scourge of time in both patent and latent forms. This explains why Christian examples, although not necessarily more important, may outnumber Hellenic ones in this book. The same pertains to the number of examples taken from the different periods of Greek history, which are of variable duration. For example, Byzantium, which had an official Orthodox Christian character, covers more than ten centuries of Greece’s medieval history, whereas the bulk of early Hellenic and Christian encounters lasted about three centuries. In addition, the two centuries of the modern Greek state are extremely rich in related examples, a fact to which due attention is paid. It is useful to note from the outset that Christianity’s attitude toward Hellenism (and other religions) was determined by the continuous dialectic between exclusivity and inclusivity, although not necessarily in equal measure. The varied intensity of this dialectic was very much determined by the socio-political atmosphere of the age. Christian exclusivity relied on the conviction that it, alone, possessed full revelation of the one true God. This made it a religion with absolute claims on truth, demarcating outsiders and harshly criticizing their perceived deficits. Christian inclusivity mitigated the “us versus them” attitude by absorbing foreign elements and

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merging them into the new Christian setting. Looking for and appropriating selective elements from the environment, pagan or otherwise, became a crucial Christian tactic of expansion. Although not always successful, the push and pull of exclusivity and inclusivity were decisive factors in Christianity’s rapid establishment, spread, and success. As already hinted at, the historical interactions between Hellenism and Christianity fell victim to repeated ideological jousting, both in Greece and abroad. Ideologues have specific objectives, usually aimed at reaching the ideal synthesis or stirring up conflict of some sort between these religious cultures. Little attention, however, is paid to the enhanced complexity of the entire subject matter and its articulation over the centuries. By taking a closer look, one would be rather reluctant to consider whether, for example, the conflict or the synthesis mode of interaction held priority in history. In this book, the respective cases from Greek history will be analyzed in order to locate the Sitz im Leben of their creators and promoters without “taking sides.” These cases are certainly useful in revealing the existing divergent trajectories in Greek religious and cultural self-understanding, especially from a diachronic perspective.

4 Antithesis, Tension, Conflict We interdict all persons of criminal pagan mind from the accursed immolation of victims, from damnable sacrifices, and from all other such practices that are prohibited by the authority of the most ancient sanctions. We command that all their fanes, temples, and shrines, if even now any remain entire, shall be destroyed by the command of the magistrates, and shall be purified by the erection of the sign of the venerable Christian religion. All men shall know that if it should appear, by suitable proof before a competent judge, that any person has mocked this law, he shall be punished by death. — The Theodosian Code, XVI.10.251

One of the most dominant modes of interaction between Hellenism and Christianity has been that of confrontation — which is no surprise given that we are dealing with two different religious cultures, both in structure and in orientation, distanced from each other with different levels of intensity (yet often “dancing together”) over history. An influential Latin Christian author, Tertullian (ca. 160 – 235), articulated this antithesis with his famous question, What do Athens and Jerusalem, or the Academy and the Church, have in common?2 This rhetorical question was interpreted ideologically in later centuries — for example, to demonstrate the fundamental incompatibility between Hellenism (reason) and Christianity (faith). Aside from this, it is true that both religious systems had dissimilar or contrary stances on many issues, from their concept of the divine to their prescriptions about life. And, even if we find some “monotheistic aspects” in paganism, it is equally true that Christianity’s monotheism was a different and exclusive one. Paganism was primarily based on polytheistic assumptions; therefore it is quite safe to speak of Hellenic polytheism as opposed to Christian monotheism.

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To begin with this mode of interaction is not indicative of any preference for it whatever. The oppositional mode of interaction between Hellenism and Christianity is not necessarily foremost; it simply points to the undeniable differences that rendered their confrontation inevitable. In addition, numerous actors from both religious cultures have emphasized this mode of interaction all along; they demanded separate treatment and were eager to dissect major and minor differences. In other words, they were always “looking for a fight.” The confrontational encounter between Hellenism and Christianity involves at least three aspects. First, the antithesis between the two religious cultures — sometimes minor but often fundamental — frequently hindered or foreclosed their compatibility. Theirs was not an imagined opposition but a real one with palpable consequences for each side. A second aspect is the persistent tension, either open or latent, that existed even during periods of fruitful interaction. Third, actual historical conflict, real enmity, marked their fate. They not only engaged in ideological opposition but also took concrete measures to weaken or annihilate each other — Christianity taking the lion’s share of these measures in later epochs because of its powerful establishment, its exclusivist principles, and, most of all, its majority status. Yet, even on such conflict-ridden terrain, there were persons seeking “positive” elements in the other side. Confrontation was not totally coterminous with absolute bifurcation and polarization.

The Ancient Period (up to 330 CE) Given that the new religion of Christianity set out quite early to spread its message beyond its Palestinian environment to the pagan Greco-Roman world, we should begin our examination by looking at how the Christian side came into conflict with Hellenism. The first known conflictual engagement between Hellenism and Christianity on Greek soil took place in Roman Greece. This came about when Paul the Apostle visited Athens and delivered a talk on the hill of Areopagus (Acts 17, 16 – 34). Athens, though past the peak of its glory, made a vivid impression on Paul, especially in terms of his estimation of the religiosity of the Athenians, evident in their countless sacred places, altars, and statues. Because Athenians ignored the Christian God, he engaged himself in discussions with Gentiles but also with Jews. At one point, some Epicurean and Stoic philosophers

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invited him to the Council of the Areopagus, an important legal institution of Athens, to make a speech. Taking as an example the altar devoted “to an unknown God,” Paul began expostulating the idea of the one true God and threw in some basic Christian tenets for good measure, such as the final judgment and the resurrection of the dead. Such ideas struck many of his audience as ridiculous. Some laughed and scoffed, while others showed mere indifference and ambled out of the assembly, allowing that they might hear him on these strange ideas some other time. A few Athenians, though, found Paul’s ideas attractive, including Dionysius, a member of the Council. Paul was careful to present his Christian monotheistic claims of absoluteness and exclusive truth in a diplomatic fashion to his Athenian public. He began using Stoic arguments and cited the Greek poet Aratos (Acts 17, 28), turning the verse to his own Christian purposes. This introduced a tactic that would be used by many Christian thinkers to come. Even if his audience did not grasp all the potential implications of the new religion, it set up an antithesis that would characterize the relations between Hellenism and Christianity from then on. Although Athenians were portrayed as enthusiastically “talking or hearing about the latest novelty” (Acts 17, 21) — an indication of their polytheistic inclusiveness, openness, and plurality — they, too, had their limits. In his letters to Christian communities in Greece, Paul was far less diplomatic toward Hellenism; indeed, he openly denounced it. He was undoubtedly acquainted with Greek philosophy (e.g., Acts 9, 29), but he clearly distinguished between true and false wisdom in comparing Hellenism, Judaism, and Christianity (1 Cor. 1, 17 – 25). In his view, proclaiming the Christian message did not require rhetorical skills (an allusion to the ancient Greek art of effective speech and its persuasiveness). No, Paul argued, what mattered was the fundamental Otherness of Christianity. The “message of the cross” spelled “sheer folly” for the ignorant yet promised “the power of God” to Christians. This power was to reduce the so-called wise men of this world to nothingness, for they were unable to discover the one true God. Paul concluded, “Jews demand signs, Greeks look for wisdom, but we proclaim Christ nailed to the cross; and though this is an offence to Jews and folly to Gentiles, yet to those who are called, Jews and Greeks alike, he is the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Cor. 1, 22 – 4). In general, Paul incorporated into his arguments Christianity’s antithesis to the pagan world and its human, mundane philosophy (Col. 2, 8).

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Despite these early signs of dissent, Christianity was not a serious threat to the pagan establishment at the time of Paul. As a budding religion, it was more concerned with gaining wider legitimacy and acceptance. For this reason, the Christian Apologists of the second century took an active role in justifying the new religion. Some of them are reported being of Athenian descent and were well versed in Greek philosophy and culture. Their effort to correlate Christianity with Hellenism positively will occupy us in the next chapter. This effort did not go forth without a sharp critique of Hellenic religion and philosophy. The Apologists took pains to pit “obsolete” pagan weaknesses against the undeniable superiority of the Christianity that would replace it. Some did so mindful, however, of formulating this antithesis carefully to reach the goal of wider recognition of Christian precepts. Yet we do not find this attitude in Aristides of Athens (first half of the second century), a philosopher by profession before his Christian conversion, whose Apology (ca. 140) reveals his good knowledge of pagan culture. He set out to compare the three main branches of polytheism as practiced by the Chaldeans (Babylonians), the Greeks, and the Egyptians. He aimed his harshest criticism of Hellenic polytheism at the crude anthropomorphism of the vile Olympian deities, full of wickedness and impurity. Such low moral standards rendered such deities unworthy of veneration, in sharp contrast to the high morality of Christianity and its one true God. He praised the monotheism of the Jews and their morality but criticized them for failing to accept Jesus Christ. Coming from an exclusivist perspective, Aristides’s slap at Hellenic religion left no room for compromise. He found no seeds of truth in it and wondered how pagans dared accuse Christians of immoralities. Though persecuted, Christians, the most blessed race on earth, prayed for the pagans, that they might discover true religion.3 Athenagoras of Athens (second half of the second century) had a somewhat different perspective. He had studied philosophy and was eclectic in his philosophical preferences. But he was basically a grammarian and rhetorician before converting to Christianity, which he elegantly, yet staunchly, defended against pagan counteraccusations. His Embassy or Petition for the Christians (ca. 176/77) used erudite philosophical arguments to demonstrate Christianity’s superiority. He ventured to discredit pagan accusations against Christianity, simply because it did not accept polytheism. Polytheism’s deities possessed so many flaws and vices, he argued, that they were totally unworthy of Christian belief. Athenagoras

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cited pagan poets, philosophers, and others who had criticized polytheism, naturally, in favor of his own Christian objectives.4 As Christianity developed and spread, it began to attract the attention of not only the surrounding pagan world but also the Roman authorities. Already in early second century some Romans recognized that Christians could prove problematic to the pagan world. We know that Pliny the Younger (61/62 – ca. 113), when he was governor of Bithynia and Pontus, wrote to Emperor Trajan (r. 98 – 117) in about 111 describing Christians as utterly superstitious. In asking for advice on how to deal with them, he pointed to their “pertinacity and inflexible obstinacy” and pinpointed other areas of conflict between the existing socio-political and religious order and Christianity, such as the Christian denial of the cult of the emperor, as well as their disapproval of sacrifice and all its accoutrements (including the lucrative distribution and sale of sacrificial food).5 Pliny the Younger foresaw serious repercussions for the entire Roman sociopolitical and religious order should Christianity gain a grip. Historians Tacitus (ca. 55 – ca. 117) and Suetonius (ca. 70 – ca. 130) also found this unRoman-like religious system full of superstition.6 Although it is questionable whether the “writing was on the wall” regarding the long-term consequences of the new religion, many signs of conflict between paganism and Christianity were hard to ignore. Pagans shared many stereotypes and prejudices, such as associating Christians with natural calamities. A popular charge was their “atheism,” which Christian Apologists repeatedly sought to refute. The insult was meant not so much to signify the Christians’ negation of God or any deities but to dramatize their deviation from Roman religious standards.7 Evidence of the sense of alarm that Roman authorities felt began with the various waves of persecutions of Christians, from those ordered by Emperor Nero (r. 37 – 68) after the great fire of Rome (64) to those by Maximinus Daia (r. 308 – 13) in the eastern provinces (313).8 Although most persecutions of Christians had a local character, they reflected a more general Roman desire to nip Christianity in the bud and suppress or oppress its adherents. Of course, Christians were not the only ones facing persecutions at the time; the same treatment often applied to Jews and other minorities, such as the Manicheans, followers of the ancient Persian Gnostic religion founded by prophet Mani (216 – 276/77).9 Pagan concerns about Christianity emanated not only from Rome but also from Greece. The physician Galen (ca. 129 – 99) made occasional short

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comments about the new religion, though not all critical.10 The Stoic philosopher Epictetus (ca. 50 – ca. 130), who had probably met Christians in Rome and later in Nicopolis (Epirus), also made a brief critical remark about their lack of fear of the authorities, a phenomenon that he attributed to habit.11 Lucian of Samosata (ca. 115 – ca. 200) also satirized Christianity and its followers in his work The Death of Peregrinus, which will be discussed in a later chapter. The first thorough critique of Christianity, however, came from a second-century Greek, possibly of Alexandrian origin, named Celsus, a well-educated individual conversant with Platonism, Judaism, and Egyptian traditions. Between 170 and 180 he wrote a lengthy refutation of Christianity entitled The True Word. Though this work perished, some of it survived in extracts quoted by Origen verbatim in his rebuttal, Against Celsus, around the middle of the third century.12 Celsus intended not only to refute but also to ridicule Christianity. He borrowed a lot of Jewish arguments against the new religion, attacking some of its tenets, like the idea of God’s incarnation, as foolish and naive. He negated Christianity on rational grounds, portraying Christian teachers as ignorant, superstitious, and uneducated. He charged that they could not stand up to a debate with pagan teachers of philosophy. He clearly preferred polytheism’s flexibility and free inquiry in matters of religion. Yet it is questionable whether Celsus was a sincere religious person — his thinking on religious matters appears skeptical and relativistic. Furthermore, he had a stake in defending the pagan culture and the public role of polytheism in the Roman Empire. He obviously viewed polytheism as an integral part of the Roman socio-political order, whose values were seriously threatened by Christianity. Christians — with their strong otherworldliness (belief in heaven and an afterlife, for example), along with their claim of being the sole true religion — constituted disloyal citizens who threatened the very foundations of the pagan establishment. If they were to keep to their own monotheism but conform to the public standards of the Roman social order, they could go on with their beliefs. But Celsus doubted that they would be content with such a timid state of affairs. Thus his attack on Christianity can be considered prophetic: he foresaw the coming end of the ancient world, or at least the awesome challenge of Christianity. Celsus’s main adversary — the distinguished Christian theologian of Alexandria, Origen (ca. 185 – ca. 254) — set out to prove exactly the opposite. His voluminous output represents one of the first systematic attempts to present Christianity in intellectual terms and show that it was not just

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some irrational, foolish new religion. Although influenced by Platonism to a large extent, as was Celsus, Origen heavily criticized Hellenic polytheism and philosophy. In Origen’s view (and in keeping with his own personal convictions), Christianity offered absolute religious truth, based chiefly on divine revelation. Having been strongly influenced by Platonic dualism and Christianity’s revolutionary otherworldly expectations, Origen showed little interest in the public role of religion, such as maintaining civic order in the Roman Empire, as did Celsus. Origen dismissed the socio-political sphere’s temporal, earthly dimension, grounded as it was in a false religious system. He developed instead his own philosophy of history and eschatology as a teleological process, based on Christian assumptions.13 Despite his contributions and significance for Christian theology, his system failed to become the Christian norm in subsequent centuries, at times even drawing official criticism and condemnation. There were other notable pagan critics of Christianity, among them the Neoplatonic philosopher Porphyry (233 – ca. 306), who also regarded the upstart religion as a threat to the pagan establishment. Unlike the eclectic Celsus, Porphyry was a philosopher as well as a devoutly religious polytheist. Of Syrian origin, he was educated in Athens and later studied under the Neoplatonic philosopher Plotinus (ca. 205 – 70). He criticized Christianity and defended traditional pagan religion in his Philosophy from Oracles. He also wrote a lengthy treatise, Against the Christians, in fifteen books, which survives today only in fragments.14 He sought to discredit Jesus Christ’s uniqueness by comparing him to Apollonius of Tyana (ca. 40 – ca. 120), a Greek Neo-Pythagorean philosopher and teacher. Apollonius became known particularly via a biography written in early third century by the Sophist Philostratus (ca. 170 – ca. 250), which presented him as a wandering ascetic philosopher and wonder-worker. Philostratus’s intent was not to refute Christianity, but that was just how Porphyry used his material. The story of Apollonius did not end there. The proconsul Hierocles of Bithynia and Alexandria (ca. 250 – after 308)15 addressed Christians in polemical words to persuade them that their sacred books abounded in contradictions; that the morals and miraculous powers of Christ were inferior to those of Apollonius of Tyana; and that pagans were more reasonable than Christians. Eusebius of Caesarea issued a Christian response some time later, sustaining the debate. Yet even in this period of conflict there was give-and-take. Analogies between Jesus and Apollonius in terms of religious nature and ascetic ideals were more than conspicuous.

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The parallel rise of pagan and Christian “holy men” in the Greco-Roman world, and later in Late Antiquity, also accounts for this.16 We should not forget that Christianity was part of the ancient world and that such interactions were bound to occur.17 The period of initial confrontation entered a decisive new phase in 311 with Galerius’s (r. 305 – 11) Edict of Serdica, which ended persecutions in his political realm. In 313, Constantine I and Licinius (r. 308 – 24) collaborated on the Edict of Milan on toleration, a major first step toward the coming establishment and official recognition of Christianity. Christian accounts of Constantine’s “conversion” to Christianity and the eulogies that Eusebius of Caesarea wrote to honor Constantine may have been exaggerated. But it is crystal clear that Constantine endorsed Christianity, even if in his own way, and contributed to its inculcation and institutionalization in the Roman Empire. This was to lead to a dramatic era of conflict with paganism.

The Byzantine Period ( 330 to 1453) Perhaps Constantine’s most important political decision, with waves of repercussions that would wash on the shores of Greece and the East, was the transfer of the capital from Rome to Constantinople. Founded in 324 and inaugurated in 330, “the New Rome” punctuated the broadening boundaries of the Roman Empire in the Christian era. Later on, only the Eastern part of the Roman Empire survived as a political entity, and came to be known in modern times as the Byzantine Empire. This redefined empirical entity was the scene of many permutations in Hellenic-Christian relations over a long period of time. The element of conflict between the two reached a peak in the fourth century and continued to aggravate Christian authorities throughout Late Antiquity. Pagan opposition to the Christianization of the Roman Empire intensified, both in the East and the West. Yet in the long run, it proved impossible to reverse the Christianization process, supported as it was by both church and empire. Christianity in its Orthodox version was to dominate Byzantine life in the centuries to come. In terms of the conflict between the old and new religious order, the period of Late Antiquity is undoubtedly the most truculent. The decline of the pagan world was not a self-induced process but rather a matter of systematic, polemical imperial legislation and a slew of prohibitions, along with repeated measures in favor of Christianity.18

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The best guide to this process is The Theodosian Code, an impressive collection of more than 2,500 legal documents from Constantine I (313) to Theodosius II (438). In particular, book 16 of the code includes legislation on religious matters, and title 10 addresses the topic of paganism. Christianity’s pivotal turning point occurred when officials declared it to be the sole legitimate religion of the Roman Empire. As the edict issued by Emperor Theodosius I in Thessalonica on February 28, 380, states, “It is Our will all the peoples who are ruled by the administration of Our Clemency shall practice that religion which the divine Peter the Apostle transmitted to the Romans, as the religion which he introduced makes clear even unto this day . . . According to the apostolic discipline and the evangelic doctrine, we shall believe in the single Deity of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, under the concept of equal majesty and of the Holy Trinity. We command that those persons who follow this rule shall embrace the name of Catholic Christians.”19 A heavy array of anti-pagan legislation pertained to the East, the West, or, indeed, the entire Roman Empire under the following emperors: Constantius II (r. 337 – 61) — prohibition of sacrifices (341), destruction of tombs (349), prohibition of nocturnal sacrifices (353), sacrifices generally (356), and divination (357); Valentinian I (r. 364 – 75) — reclamation of all property given or sold to temples by Emperor Julian (364) and annulment of his pro-pagan measures (370); Valens (r. 364 – 78) — prohibition of nocturnal sacrifices (364) and divination (370); Theodosius I — prohibition of pagan rites and practices (381), confiscation of temples and their property by the state (382, 383), prohibition of sacrifices and related divinatory practices (385), and general prohibition of paganism for all ranks of Roman citizens (391, 392); Arcadius (r. 395 – 408) — non-recognition of pagan feasts as public holidays and general prohibition of paganism (395), deprivation of rights of pagan priests and outlawing of their profession (396), use of building material from destroyed temples for secular purposes (397), demolition of rural temples (399), and use of buildings belonging to temples for public purposes (401); and Theodosius II (r. 408 – 50) — confiscation of temples in towns and the countryside for public use, with part of their property given to Christian bishops (408), limitations on expenditures on shows and games (409), deprivation of rights for pagan guilds (409), exclusion of pagans from public state and military offices (415), prohibition of pagans and their practices through the threat of death penalty (423), prohibition of imperial cult (425), and general prohibition of paganism, leading to its expiation from the public sphere (435).20

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This selected list of restrictive and harsh legislation reveals the extent to which paganism was pummeled into obedience. There were, occasionally, more “tolerant” laws toward pagans. One issued in 423 admonished true Christians to refrain from violence toward Jews and pagans who “are living quietly and attempting nothing disorderly or contrary to law.”21 Such examples are rare exceptions to the rule of conflict imposed by the Christian side. This punitive state of affairs had ongoing implications. For example, around 443 the urban and praetorian prefect of Constantinople and poet Kyros of Panopolis (d. 457), although a Christian by the time, was accused of paganism, removed from office, and sent into exile.22 He then became the bishop of Kotyaion (Phrygia). Although his love for Greek letters is incontestable, it is not certain whether Kyros indeed supported a form of paganism.23 Polemical legislation also implied the willingness to use violence as a legitimate means of annihilating the old religious culture. The most horrible case, perhaps, was the murder of the philosopher and mathematician Hypatia (ca. 370 – 415) in Alexandria by a mob of Christians.24 The fate of this learned woman became a key frame of reference for modern critics of Christianity and its intolerance. Violence in a variety of forms was applied not only to persons but also to pagan monuments. First, the destruction of pagan sites — and, hence, the vestiges of a bygone religious culture — was a Christian tactic of long standing. Second, pagan temples, sanctuaries, and buildings were willfully demolished and “recycled,” often for building Christian churches on or near the same site. Third, Christians took over pagan buildings and “transformed” them accordingly, reversing their orientation by creating an entrance from the west end and adding an apse at the east end. Finally, other pagan monuments were just abandoned and left to decay. The exact process by which this transition took place is often not known. Some pagan places of worship or sacrifice may have endured for a while before succumbing to Christian pressure, thus coexisting side by side with Christian monuments. Despite lacunas in our knowledge, a level of conflict between the old and the new religious culture is clear. Many of these transformations occurred throughout Greece from the fifth century onward.25 For example, late fifth-century Christians built a large church in the sanctuary of Delphi, and others destroyed the ἄδυτον (the inaccessible, restricted area) of the temple of Apollo and incised crosses on the Treasury of the Siphnians and on the Altar of the Chians.26 A tiny third-century BCE temple of Thea on the island of Santorini was

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converted, with few alterations, to become the church of Saint Nicholas Marmarinos.27 On Samos, fifth-century Christians dismantled the famous temple of Hera and used its rubble to build their own basilica.28 An interesting inscription (fifth century) from the island of Ikaria refers to the conversion of ancient temples (including one of the goddess Athena in Athens) into churches of Virgin Mary. Quoted in various versions by Byzantine authors (John Malalas) and referring to such conversions of ancient temples, it contains the first epigraphic attestation of an oracle of Apollo Pythios.29 In a consecrating inscription of a basilica in Paleopolis (Corfu), Bishop Jovianus (fifth century) particularly stressed that he had destroyed the precincts and altars of the “Hellenes” (pagans) that were previously there.30 Archaeological research continues to bring to light the physical destruction of ancient sacred places by Christians, such as an outdoor sanctuary devoted to god Apollo, the Nymphs, and god Pan near Sidirokastro, probably destroyed already by the fourth century.31 This process continued into later centuries, although the conflict between Christianity and paganism was already over. Such transformational intent is readily observable in modern Greece’s capital city of Athens, still paying homage to the ancient world and the Hellenic religion that persisted there until the late fifth century. An important blow was delivered between 481 and 484, when Christians removed the gold and ivory statue of Athena from the Parthenon and demolished the Asklepieion on the south slope of the Acropolis. In all probability, the main temples in Athens began to be converted into Christian churches between 481 and 488,32 although it could have been as late as the sixth or even seventh centuries.33 The temple of Parthenon was thus transformed into the church of God’s Wisdom with the construction of an apse on its east portico, and it was later dedicated to the glory of the Virgin Mary. The temple of Erechtheion at the Acropolis also became the church of the Mother of God. The nearby temple of Theseion, built in honor of the god Hephaestos, was also transformed into the church of Saint George. Another Christian makeover can be seen on the island of Sikinos, where a pagan tomb-temple from the second or third century was converted into a church between the seventh and eighth centuries.34 In addition, the soldier-monk John Christodoulos (1021 – 93) and his pupils founded the Monastery of Saint John the Theologian on the island of Patmos in 1088. The monastery building now incorporates classical columns said to come from a temple of Artemis that once stood there.35 Let us mention finally a characteristic case. A small church from the

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fifteenth century, built probably after 1460, dedicated to Panagia Gorgoepikoos and later to Saint Eleftherios, also called “Little Cathedral,” today sits alongside its giant modern counterpart, the Athens Cathedral. What makes this church particularly interesting? Its building material (marble blocks, murals, friezes) came from ancient Greek and Roman buildings, possibly the Ancient Agora and the Roman Agora by the Tower of the Winds, as well as buildings from Byzantine times. The carved reliefs decorating the exterior walls are particularly interesting — one above the door is part of a second-century calendar marking the ancient Athenian festivals.36 Pagan reliefs were conspicuously marked with crosses probably long before they were reused for the church (see fig. 4.1). It is possible that this was originally done for apotropaic reasons — that is, for neutralizing their assumed demonic power, which rendered them fearful and dangerous. But in the late medieval context when the church was built, the reuse of ancient and Byzantine reliefs probably aimed at something else: to integrate them into a characteristic monument marking an Orthodox Christian religious and Greek cultural identity and to make it visible to the Ottomans, who had already captured Athens in 1456 and had turned the Parthenon and other churches into mosques.37 Given that Christian intolerance toward paganism always had its limits,38 however, modern research has put forward a differentiated view on the Christian attitudes toward pagan monuments in general.39 From this perspective, it was not primarily Christian attacks that caused their decay, as previously suggested,40 but rather numerous other factors, including gradual abandonment and lack of funds for temple maintenance. As far as Greece is concerned, evidence suggests that Christian destruction of pagan temples was rather limited. As we shall see in a later chapter, paganism in Greece proved to be very resistant to Christian expansion and did not succumb immediately. In many places, pagans and Christians continued to coexist (e.g., in Athens). Later demolitions of pagan sites did not necessarily have a polemical, anti-pagan intent but were often due to other reasons, such as physical catastrophes and decline of cult practices (e.g., in the Heraion on Samos already since the first century). The building of churches on or near damaged and destroyed temples was in many cases a later phenomenon and not connected to specific anti-pagan measures.41 Yet these new perspectives should not detract from the importance of occasional hostile activity or persisting tension between paganism and Christianity. Although expressed in various forms, antagonism between

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Fig. 4.1. Detail of the entrance from the west side of the church of Saint Eleftherios (see figure 2.2) in Athens. Among the spolia: above, the calendrical frieze with two superimposed crosses on the left part obliterating the Hellenic motifs; below, various added crosses on the door lintel.

pagans and Christians was a fact in Late Antique Greece. But the transition from paganism to Christianity was not the same in all parts of the vast Roman Empire, and some areas (including Greece) lagged far behind others. This pertains to temple conversions as well.42 Even after many temples were in ruins, the pagan population in Greece probably remained active, as shown by archaeological evidence from Corinth.43 We shall discuss this phenomenon in more detail in chapter 6. A much broader area of Christian criticism and suspicion directed against the pagan world came from the Christian theological domain. Theologians had quivers full of arguments to sling at the “Hellenes” (pagans). More interesting, however, were those Christian authors deeply familiar with the educational system of the pagan world. Although willing to use it for Christian objectives, they were simultaneously eager to denounce it as futile, trivial, and fraught with danger. In addition, they invariably devalued it in comparison to the truth of the Bible and God’s unique revelation in the person of Jesus Christ.

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Such bipolarity appears in the works of Basil of Caesarea (330 – 79), a Christian bishop whose studies in Athens left him quite conversant in rhetoric and philosophy. He was obviously fond of classical literature, used it extravagantly in his writings and speeches, yet deprecated it in comparison to the grandeur of the Bible. In his homilies on the Hexaemeron, he turned material from ancient Greek authors on its ear in order to explain and corroborate the Biblical account of the creation of the world. Yet, in the same homilies, he repeatedly denounced the profane knowledge of Greek philosophers in contrast to the God-inspired knowledge in the Bible. How might this apparently contradictory attitude toward Greek philosophy and science be explained? There are indications that the official position of Basil as bishop — playing to his audience and conforming to anti-pagan church policy — was at odds with Basil the private person, who highly admired classical literature.44 Other educated Christians exhibited a similar bipolarity.45 While employing flowery rhetoric, they insisted that the Christian message, being “not of this world,” had no need for rhetorical support. The simplicity and persuasiveness of the Christian message per se needed no enticing words, learned language, or verbal ornaments to become successful. The supramundane origins and substance of the Christian message were more highly valued than a learned and exalted style.46 Christians also opposed the techniques of rhetoricians and Sophists on ethical grounds, regarding them as clever-sounding “lies” designed to make a pitifully weak case appear strong. Rhetorical devices could also complicate and obfuscate the Christian message. From a Christian standpoint, persuasion was needed solely to demonstrate truth, not to show off skill and pride.47 Such suspicion toward rhetoric was characteristic of the Cappadocian Church Fathers — Basil of Caesarea, Gregory of Nazianzus (ca. 329 – 90), and Gregory of Nyssa (331/40 – ca. 395) — who all had excellent backgrounds in classical education. We see this in Gregory of Nyssa’s criticism of Eunomios, the bishop of Cyzicos, who supported an extreme form of Arianism, the non-trinitarian doctrine propounded by the priest Arius of Alexandria. Gregory accused Eunomios of “playing the rhetorician,” using “a rhetorical stroke of phrases framed according to some artificial theory,” and preferring “study to prayer” when composing a speech. Gregory even flagellated himself for his own earlier desire to be called a professor of rhetoric rather than professor of Christianity. Gregory’s brother, Basil of Caesarea, had done almost the same thing. When young, he had been “puffed up beyond measure with the pride of oratory.” He had been

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considered “an orator among orators, even before the chair of the rhetoricians,” one for whom “eloquence was his by-work.” His sister Macrina was the one who managed to lead him “toward the mark of philosophy” (i.e., Christian asceticism). Even Gregory of Nazianzus admitted that he, too, had once been “ambitious above all for oratorical renown.” His long period of studies in Athens alongside Basil — where “most of the young men were mad after rhetorical skill,” and where they also met with the future emperor Julian — facilitated this “Hellenic” point of view.48 Christians had the chance to witness the tension and antithesis between Hellenism and Christianity often, especially in the context of worship. Chanted hymns and recited texts pointed out the superiority of Christianity over the pagan world and its educational elitism. Such hostility toward pagan education, probably alluding to the traditional classical syllabus of the trivium (grammar, rhetoric, dialectic) and the quadrivium (geometry, arithmetic, music, astronomy), is evident in a hymn for Pentecost composed by Romanos the Melode (d. after 555): “So why are the fools outside [the church] spoiling for a fight? Why do the Hellenes bluster and drone on? Why do they allow themselves to be deluded by the thrice-accursed Aratos? Why do they go astray in the company of Plato? Why are they fond of the feeble Demosthenes? Why do they not realize that Homer is an idle dreamer? Why do they babble on about Pythagoras who has rightly been silenced? Why do they not run with faith to those to whom has been revealed the Spirit all-holy?”49 The church tirelessly emphasized the superiority of simple, straightforward Christian doctrine over the philosophers’ labyrinths of thought. The popular fifth- or sixthcentury Acathist Hymn, in honor of the Mother of God, bears such passages: “We see copious orators mute as fish before thee, O Mother of God, since they are at a loss to explain how thou remainest a virgin, yet wast able to give birth . . . Hail, thou who provest the sophists speechless! Hail, for the skilled disputers are become foolish! . . . Hail, thou who rendest asunder the word-webs of Athens!”50 So what resistance did the pagan world raise to the incremental Christian takeover, in effect a declaration of war against the old religious culture? Although many, the pagan voices were ultimately ineffective. Perhaps the best-known and shortest-lived official reaction came from Emperor Julian (r. 361 – 63), later negatively labeled “the Apostate” by Christians. A man of deep convictions with extensive knowledge of Hellenic culture and religion, he strove to save the ancient world from the attacks of the

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“Galilaeans,” as he pejoratively dubbed the Christians, and to revive it. His was a syncretistic religious worldview that emphasized Neoplatonic philosophy as a common basis for uniting pagans. A famous and oft-cited story concerns Oribasius (ca. 325 – 403), Julian’s doctor and confidant, who visited Delphi in 362 to ask the oracle Pythia about Julian’s chances in the war against the Persians. The answer insinuated the twilight of paganism: “Tell the king, on earth has fallen the glorious dwelling, and the watersprings that spake are quenched and dead. Not a cell is left the god, no roof, no cover, in his hand the prophet laurel flowers no more.”51 This skillfully told story is probably a Christian fiction. Yet, although Julian failed at the time, his arguments resonated centuries later in numerous circles critical of Christianity.52 What was Julian’s anti-Christian agenda? While depriving Christians of their privileges and demanding restitution for the destruction of pagan monuments, he was also keen to perceive the underlying source of the problem and how to remedy it. To him, Hellenism was an integral whole, one in which polytheism played a central and indispensable role. Therefore, Hellenism could not be separated into constituent parts and applied in a fragmentary way. This, however, was precisely what Christians had been doing — arbitrarily selecting the parts of Hellenic tradition that suited them, albeit with an occasional sense of reservation. Thus, Julian took a step that may well have proved detrimental to Christian objectives: he prohibited them from teaching classical subjects, such as rhetoric, due to their refusal to accept the Hellenic religion, a decision that caused embittered reactions by learned Christians such as Gregory of Nazianzus.53 Julian thought that his subjects should approach Hellenism with sincerity and honesty, not pick and choose what they wanted in a blatantly distorted fashion. Before he was done, Julian took a number of other measures to battle Christianity’s success. The shortness of his reign and life, however, rendered those efforts unsuccessful. It would be false, however, to consider Julian as a weird exception from an already established and victorious Christianity; on the contrary, his actions were fully normal at a time when paganism was still very much alive and quite influential.54 Other pagan intellectuals, at times embroiled in politics, criticized Christianity’s exclusivity and the empire’s public support of it. Themistius (ca. 317 – 88), a pagan rhetorician, appointed urban prefect by Emperor Theodosius I and preceptor of his son Arcadius, continued to support paganism in a non-fanatical way. This is probably why he was tolerated and allowed to hold high offices in the imperial administration.55 The rhetori-

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cian Libanius of Antioch (314 – after 393), who admired Julian and was equally tolerated by Emperor Theodosius I, criticized Christian tactics of dealing with the pagan world. In the oration 30 (Pro templis), his vivid account of wandering Christian monks who ransacked pagan monuments, he decried that behavior and other destructive aspects of Christianity. Libanius asked for more tolerance on the part of the Christians, thus making a plea to Theodosius in 386 to preserve pagan monuments, especially those in the countryside, which were vital to ancient society.56 Also known as the teacher of Christians who later excelled in church rhetoric, he seems to have sensed the fate of paganism. The most famous of Libanius’s students was John Chrysostom (ca. 350 – 407), later patriarch of Constantinople, who was a sharp critic of vestiges of pagan culture in the capital. His name meant “golden mouth” and he put the rhetorical skills that he had acquired to the service of the church and the persuasion of his flock. His enormous output of homilies left a lasting legacy. The tale is told that on his deathbed Libanius, a lifelong pagan, vowed that he would have tapped John as his successor had the Christians not seized him beforehand.57 But Chrysostom’s fierce critique of all elements from the pagan past that survived (e.g., horse races, theater performances) earned him many enemies in imperial and aristocratic circles, resulting in his deposition and exile.58 Not all pagans shared Themistius’s and Libanius’s moderate stance. There were more militant ones, like Zosimus (425 – 518), a prefect court lawyer who initiated a rebuke of Christianity with the intent of exposing the true causes of its success. He came down heavily on the role of Christian bishops and monks and imperial authorities in destroying paganism. His perspicacity enabled him to pinpoint some advantages of Christianity over paganism, namely its inclusive appeal and ability to incorporate diverse elements. For example, Christian doctrine promised absolution of all crimes after sincere repentance, as was the Christian policy with Emperor Constantine I; this was something that pagan priests were unable to allow. He blamed Christianization for its negative effects on depopulating rural areas — and, hence, for the decline of the Roman Empire. Although he did not rule out a reversal in pagan fortunes, the prognosis for the pagan world in the fifth century was none too promising.59 The conflict between Hellenism and Christianity took a drastic turn when Emperor Justinian I (527 – 65) sought to further inculcate Orthodoxy, to Christianize the political realm, and to homogenize religion empire-

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wide.60 The Codex Iustinianus (particularly book I, 5: De haereticis et manichaeis et samaritis; and 11: De paganis, sacrificiis et templis) thus abounds in anti-pagan legislation.61 A roundup of pagans ensued, requiring many to be baptized,62 and trials of prominent pagans in Constantinople commenced. As always, there were exceptions. Some of Justinian’s advisers still adhered to paganism, like the jurist Flavius Tribonian (ca. 500 – 547), responsible for revising the Roman legal code. The historian Procopius, on the other hand, accused Justinian of denouncing and condemning only certain rich persons for “polytheism” in order to lay hands on their fortune.63 Systematic missions to Christianize pagans in the countryside and in remote areas took place, like those of John of Ephesus (ca. 507 – 86/88) in Asia Minor, beginning in 542. Justinian issued a ban to prevent pagans from serving as teachers,64 and in 529 he closed the Neoplatonic Academy of Athens, the philosophical school founded by Plato around 387 BCE. Undaunted, the school probably recommenced operation, and its function may have continued into later centuries.65 All in all, Justinian’s measures seemed to have succeeded, although pagan customs persisted surreptitiously in the provinces for much longer. Another important development during his reign was the convocation of the Fifth Ecumenical Council in Constantinople in 553. The Council condemned Christian Neoplatonism and declared fifteen anathemas against Origenist ideas, such as the belief in the final restoration of all worlds and spirits. An earlier synod in Constantinople had already done the same in 543. An edict of Justinian in 543 had also condemned Origen for his support of false and mythological Hellenic doctrines and the “Hellenic mania of Plato” regarding the soul.66 For every accusative finger that political figures pointed at paganism, however, a greater or equal number came from the religious realm. A person or movement deemed guilty of professing Hellenic doctrines could be readily discredited and condemned not only by the state but also by the church. Thus, accusations of Hellenism abound in council decisions and individual theological works in Byzantium. Given the atmosphere of counteraccusation amid theological debates about what constituted Hellenism, it is not clear which arguments were credible. Accusations of adhering to Hellenism and its doctrines were thus often raised, such as during the Christological debates (fourth and fifth centuries) about the divinity and the incarnation of Jesus Christ, the Iconoclastic controversy (eighth and ninth centuries) over the veneration of icons in the church, and the Byzantine-Latin debates at the time of Patriarch Photios (ninth century)

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about various theological differences between East and West and the issue of primacy in the entire Christian world.67 Photios’s own student, the poet and philosopher Constantine Sikelos (ninth century), accused Leo the Mathematician or the Philosopher (ca. 790 – after 869), known as the “Hellene,” of teaching pagan philosophy and worshipping many gods.68 The high official and writer Leo Choirosphaktes (845/50 – after 919) was also charged with paganism and exiled.69 Such mutual finger-pointing often cropped up in monastic circles, which were in general negatively disposed toward the classical tradition and its revival (or even survival) in Byzantium.70 Tension between Hellenism and Christianity escalated during the time of the “First Byzantine Humanism” (tenth and eleventh centuries), an era that entailed intense interest in classical education and philosophy.71 Not surprisingly, suspicion of the Hellenic tradition reemerged.72 Michael Psellos, who made an immense contribution to a Platonic revival in the eleventh century and will occupy us more in a later chapter, was forced by Patriarch Michael I Keroullarios to publicly confess his Orthodox faith in 1043,73 but he himself accused the patriarch of Neoplatonic tendencies as well.74 Psellos’s student and successor, John Italos (ca. 1025 – after 1082), was first accused in 1076/77 and condemned for pagan beliefs in a 1082 synod, which castigated ancient Greek philosophers as the “greatest heresiarchs” and repudiated their “vain doctrines.”75 His pupil, Bishop of Nicaea Eustratios (1050 – ca. 1120), was also condemned in an 1117 synod as a heretic because of his “Hellenic views.”76 Despite his confession of faith, he was forced to abdicate (although he was later reinstated). It is questionable, however, whether Italos and Eustratios indeed supported a form of paganism. Be that as it may, both of them and their alleged doctrines were anathematized in the Synodikon of Orthodoxy, a liturgical document first promulgated at the end of the Iconoclastic controversy, with later additions extolling the defenders of the Orthodox faith across history and condemning its enemies.77 What happened, however, when the term “Hellene” began to be used as a self-identification by many Byzantines in the Late Byzantine period (thirteenth through fifteenth centuries), parallel to the noble designation of “Roman”?78 The growing Hellenization of the empire did not completely abolish the term’s adverse connotations, such as when contrasting “Hellenic” notions in negative apposition to Christian ideas. The same phenomenon gained momentum during the Hesychast controversies (fourteenth century), a time when conflicting parties raised verbal

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cudgels, each accusing the other of professing Hellenic views.79 The polemical character of the term reached a climax in the philosopher Georgios Gemistos-Plethon’s revival of pro-pagan thought in the fifteenth century. Plethon viewed the Byzantines as Hellenes by virtue of their race, language, education, and ancestral upbringing. His opponent and critic Patriarch Gennadios II Scholarios, however, made a useful distinction regarding the term “Hellene.” In principle, he could identify himself as a “Hellene” only in terms of the language that he used. Yet, contrary to Plethon, he would never call himself a Hellene, because he did not profess belief in what the ancient Greeks did, namely polytheism; if anyone asked him what he was, he would unequivocally answer, “A Christian.”80 From the foregoing presentation, it is evident that the elements of antithesis, tension, and conflict separating Hellenism and Christianity lasted throughout the long Byzantine period. Whether of a theoretical or practical bent, this happened even when the Hellenization of the empire proceeded at a rapid pace, and even as the Orthodox Church intervened to selectively appropriate elements of Hellenism. There has always been a degree of ambiguity in the Hellenic tradition. Professing an interest in the Hellenic tradition has mostly elicited suspicion in the eyes of Byzantine political and religious authorities.

The Ottoman Period (1453 – 1830) What happened, however, after the Fall of Constantinople and during the following, long Ottoman period? An abrupt turnabout? Or did the elements of antithesis, tension, and conflict between Hellenism and Christianity continue to prevail and influence church policies? It goes without saying, first, that the Patriarchate of Constantinople under the leadership of Gennadios II Scholarios had other priorities to deal with in that politically, religiously, and culturally novel period;81 the dark undercurrents between Hellenism and Christianity were not a primary focus. In any event, because the preceding pagan revival of Plethon did not constitute a mass movement but rather his own individual inclinations, its influence was limited. Scholarios’s condemnation of Plethon and the burning of his Laws also dampened his influence. The fact that this book survives in fragments today is testament to its being a target of destruction at the time. Other scholars continued the controversy between Scholarios and Plethon over the primacy of the two great philosophers of Greek Antiquity, Plato and

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Aristotle.82 Matthaios Kamariotis (early fifteenth century – 1490)83 and his pupil Manuel of Corinth (middle fifteenth century – ca. 1531),84 both directors of the Patriarchal Academy, founded in 1454 by Scholarios in Constantinople, were severe critics of Plethonian paganism. It is possible, though, that some of Plethon’s students or initiates followed in his footsteps and may have also flirted with pagan ideas. The fact that manuscripts of Emperor Julian’s works circulated in these groups suggests that a few hangers-on still took the pagan option seriously. Such might have been the case with Demetrios Raoul (Ralles) Kabakes (1397 – 1487), who migrated to Italy in 1466 and remained there until his death.85 The Renaissance interest in Greek Antiquity may have lent further impetus to such Greeks’ flirting with paganism, who, realistically, would have had very limited impact on Greece. Scholarios mentioned a certain Juvenal as Plethon’s most devout disciple, who propagated his master’s religio-philosophical system in and outside Peloponnesus in the late 1440s. Juvenal was subsequently arrested for heresy, trialed, and condemned to death. This case had rendered Scholarios keenly aware of the attempted pagan revival in the first place and led to his decided countermeasures against its main initiator, Plethon.86 Yet the majority of learned Greeks who admired Greek Antiquity and classical learning, and who entertained close contacts with Italy at the time, did not flirt with paganism. For example, the previously mentioned Cardinal Bessarion was a former student of Plethon and made a catalytic contribution to the development of classical scholarship in the West by taking an intermediary position between Platonists and Aristotelians.87 He possessed a deep knowledge of classical literature, but he remained within the limits of Christianity and declined to follow Plethon’s orientations. Although he was on a different trajectory, the same can be said later for Maximos Margounios (1549 – 1602).88 Interestingly enough, Bessarion was still accused later by Manuel of Corinth of professing pagan ideas. The foregoing developments signify that the Orthodox Church had not renounced its traditional anti-pagan stance and its selective appropriation of the Hellenic tradition. Despite political changes and the church’s own adaptive strategies during that crucial period of transition under Ottoman rule, ideological continuity with the Byzantine past prevailed and continued to exist up to the early eighteenth century. The church remained strongly Hellenized and promulgated a correspondingly steely Orthodox Christian identity. In parallel manner, it expressed fidelity to the universal Roman tradition of Byzantium in safeguarding the Millet of the Romans,

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the Orthodox Christians. The Hellenic past, manifested in education, grammar, philosophy, science, and literature, was integral to the corpus of wisdom passed down from Byzantium. For example, manuscripts containing the works of Aristotle appeared continuously in the Greek world during the Byzantine and Ottoman periods. Even so, tensions between Aristotelian and Orthodox Christian doctrines in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries eventually revealed mild “unease” between Hellenic and Christian thinking.89 But the church felt that it was in charge of the whole situation and able to accommodate a degree of discrepancy. Meanwhile, Plethon’s pagan revival fell into oblivion, and there was no serious pagan challenge to the church’s authority. In addition, the combined identity of Orthodox Christian and Greek was common at the time, not only for internal consumption but also in dealing with Western Europe to attract foreign interest, admiration, and assistance. The traditional antithesis between Hellenism and Christianity did not, however, completely disappear under Ottoman rule. In the second half of the eighteenth century there arose among many Greeks a strong trend for emancipation from church control and a desire to mirror Western developments (ignited by the Enlightenment and the French Revolution). The warm reception of ancient Greek culture in the West, coupled with a critical and negative appraisal of Byzantium, played an influential role in Greek orientation.90 After all, Western travelers to Greece did not fail to notice various Christian monuments standing on the ruins of ancient Greek structures, which obviously were of greater interest to them (e.g., at Delphi; see fig. 4.2).91 This entire process accompanied a shift toward forging a Greek national identity apart from a collective sense of Orthodox universality, and a Hellenic revival independent of the church’s objectives and strategies. An eminent Greek scholar in the West who will occupy us in another chapter, Adamantios Koraïs, exemplified this new orientation. This “novel” direction ran contrary to the ideals promoted by the church, which felt obliged to react by preserving its venerable traditions against the onslaught of Enlightenment “newspeak.” The period preceding the Greek War of Independence was rife with debate and ferment on the future character of the Greek nation. Would it be Byzantine-Romeic, ancient Greece – oriented, or Westernized? Certainly, Greeks felt their blood coursing with a renewed sense of the Hellenic past.92 This sense, with its frightening threat of repercussions, alarmed the church, which fortified its armory of intellectual and ecclesiastical

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Fig. 4.2. An engraving showing the Monastery of Panagia (All-holy, the Mother of God) built on the remains of the Gymnasium at Delphi; background left, the village Kastri (from Edward Dodwell, Views and Descriptions of Cyclopian, or, Pelasgic Remains, in Greece and Italy, London, 1834, pl. 34). Due to archaeological excavations, the monastery was demolished in 1898.

countermeasures. A strong modern Greek orientation toward ancient Greece was not desirable for many reasons: it moved beyond the churchcontrolled appropriation of the Hellenic tradition, was influenced by the Western discovery and particular use of Greek Antiquity, and portended a Neopagan revival. Interestingly enough, Orthodox opponents of the Enlightenment drew parallels between Voltaire’s critique of Christianity and that of Lucian of Samosata in antiquity.93 The centuries-old suspicions toward the Hellenic tradition had once more resurfaced. The hieromonk Athanasios Parios was one of those to mount a defense of the church and stave off the incursion of Western influences in Greece in late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. He attacked the cult of antiquity observable among many of his compatriots, along with their nostalgic wish for “the pagan religion” (ἐθνικὴ θρησκεία).94 In fact, there were no explicit pagan revivals brewing at the time, only a renewed and

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intensified focus on Greek Antiquity. Parios, nevertheless, equated this with paganism. He scribed a highly anti-Western booklet addressed to those Greek thinkers who offered Greeks alternative models to overcome their modern-day deficits. Parios’s position was categorical: the ancient Greek prototype was too problematic to serve as an orientation model for modern Greeks. Greece had no need for a new Plato, Zenon, Democritus, or any other of the wise men from antiquity. Their absence was by no means the source of Greek decline. Those alleged reverend “philosophers with a thick beard”—remarked Parios ironically—were never able to lead ancient Greeks to the knowledge of the one true God, which is why polytheism was flawed in the first place and gave rise to “the most despised heathenism.” Regardless of their contributions to science and other disciplines, these ancient sages were basically “blind, erroneous and miserable.” Not only were the religious beliefs of the ancient Greeks altogether disrespectful, so were their deeds. How could one admire the ignorant and blind ancient Greeks or call them happy? Parios scoffed, “The thieves and graspers among them had Hermes as their prototype, the militant and murderous Ares, the lecherous Aphrodite, and all of them in common Zeus, who left behind all other deities in misdeeds, particularly in fornications and adulteries, being the most obscene and adulterous of all.” Furthermore, he called Plato “a woman-obsessed, a pederast, and a parasite,” whereas Socrates was presented as an active sodomite. In a nutshell, Greek philosophers’ corrupt deeds exposed them as slaves to their own passions. They had been blind to religion and debauched in their ethical behavior. It was shameful how some modern Greeks blamed their compatriots for no longer producing such ignorant, dirty-minded wiseacres. Neither they nor Western philosophers and scientists (like Christian Wolff and Isaac Newton) could serve as role models for the Orthodox Greeks—only the great church personalities like Basil of Caesarea and John Chrysostom would do. Unfortunately, such exemplary figures were missing. Parios’s litany of negatives about ancient Greek philosophers is quite colorful, including such phrases as “star-gazers, trumpery and idle-talkers.”95 He promoted his fiery conclusions in many other tracts as well.96 The Patriarchate of Constantinople was simultaneously mirroring concern about the Hellenic revival getting out of hand and beyond the accepted limits set by the church. It was equally alarmed by the social, cultural, intellectual, and religious changes that the Enlightenment might bring to Greek society. The broad Hellenic revival had many faces: for example, some Greeks baptized their newborns using the names of Hellenic

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deities, heroes, or personalities.97 Some Greek young people, like those attending the school of Kydonies (Asia Minor), followed suit, changing their names to mimic those of antiquity.98 In all probability, most did not do this to distance themselves from the church or cease being Orthodox Christians; rather, they desired a link to their own glorious ancestors, who were so highly valued in the West at that time. Yet the church knew very well that this revival was not under its control and could prove destabilizing to its overall authority. Therefore, the church went on the offensive, deeming pernicious such practices as baptizing children with non-Christian, Hellenic names. Patriarch Gregory V and the Holy Synod went further in March 1819, issuing an official encyclical rejecting all the major innovations of the time, including the condemnable baptismal-name fad. The same encyclical contended that renewed interest in “the Platos and Aristotles” (as well as in Western scholars and science) had secularizing effects on Orthodox Greeks.99 The practice of substituting Christian baptismal names with ancient Greek ones was also satirized by the physician Michael Perdikaris (1766–1828).100 These Orthodox reactions foreshadowed future developments in the modern Greek state in which Greek Antiquity was to occupy a central role.

The Modern Period (1830 to the Present) In many ways, antiquity was a decisive factor that enabled the Greek War of Independence. Many Greeks drew strength from comparisons with ancient Greek heroes.101 The founding of an independent Greek state also had a lot to do with the Western admiration for Classical Greece. It is no surprise that Greek Antiquity became an indispensable pillar of the nascent free state of Greece. The remaining question became what role was reserved to Orthodoxy and the church, given the conflict-laden history of Hellenism and Christianity. Should the Greek state have an exclusively Hellenic orientation, solely an Orthodox Christian one, or both? There were many Greeks who admired antiquity and were critical of the church, as described by Ioannis Kapodistrias (1776–1831), Greece’s first governor (1828–31), a man with a distinguished diplomatic career in Russian service behind him. What he found in Greece was, first, that many “rebellious and pseudo-educated Greeks” had been influenced by the West and enthusiastically supported the pre-Christian liberal and pagan traditions of their ancestors. Second, he observed that the political intrigues of many bishops, with their concomitant

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scandals, had hardened the people against the church and contributed to the rise of religious indifference. “By abandoning their traditional hearths,” he wrote, “Greeks were at the same time abandoning their churches.”102 It is obvious that this was a crucial transition period, a severe challenge to the traditional position of the Orthodox Church, although individuals like the devoutly Orthodox Kapodistrias were dedicated to the amelioration of the church’s position. Wellsprings of rampant change in independent Greece were apparent everywhere, such as in the seating of a Bavarian regime under King Otto and its effects on both the church and Orthodox culture (including the previously mentioned independence of the Orthodox Church of Greece from Constantinople, which took effect in 1833). A fascination with antiquity, coupled with an atmosphere critical of Byzantium and the church, gained popularity in many intellectual and political circles.103 Students of theology and the church reacted strongly in 1848 to the rationalist and critical views regarding the Christian faith offered by Theodoros Manousis (1793– 1858), professor of history at the University of Athens.104 Throughout the nineteenth century, ancient Greece appealed to a number of leading Greek intellectuals—Stephanos Koumanoudis, Iakovos Rizos Neroulos, Nikolaos I. Saripolos, Michael Potlis, Spyros Valetas, Emmanuel Roidis, Eirinaios Asopios, Dimitrios Thereianos—who found antiquity far preferable to the Orthodox Byzantine model. In 1862, Nikolaos T. Voulgaris talked of some extreme liberal circles in Greece dedicated to the cult of antiquity and the supplanting of ancestral Orthodoxy.105 Again, this should be no surprise, because Orthodox Byzantium had served as a focal point of heated discussion since the late eighteenth century.106 A literary work worth mentioning is the tragedy Julian the Apostate by the diplomat Kleon Rizos Rangavis (1842–1917). Submitted to the Voutsinaios Literary Contest in 1865, it was imbued with strong anti-Christian spirit. Rangavis’s work branded Byzantium a cardinal enemy of Hellenism. Rangavis depicted Christianity as the source of all evil for the Greek nation. When the work finally appeared in Athens in 1877, the church condemned it publicly, and the issue was also debated in the Parliament.107 There was also considerable church pique at Adamantios Koraïs, whose overall orientations were seen as detrimental to the Orthodox tradition; consequently, the church banned several of his books.108 Finally, the French philosopher and philologist Ernest Renan’s (1823–92) 1865 visit to Athens triggered significant reactions from various Orthodox circles. Having just published the highly controversial book Vie de Jésus (1863) and already notorious for his

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historical-critical approach to early Christianity, Renan showed particular interest in the remaining vestiges of the glorious Greek Antiquity. His visit to Athens and his fondness of ancient Greek civilization motivated him later to compose the famous Prière sur l’Acropole (1883).109 Although certain circles were abuzz with talk of Hellenic revival and put-downs of Byzantium and Orthodox Christianity, the lack of state support or massive appeal rendered most of the debate impotent. From the middle of the nineteenth century on, the church blended gradually into the irredentist state, an integration that led to its enhanced nationalization.110 The main interest was the construction and promotion of a “single Greece” made up of all phases of its diverse history, and the erasure of a conflicted and irreconcilable past. Independent Greece’s priority became that of demonstrating historical, cultural, and even religious continuity from antiquity to contemporary times. This led to the development of discourses on Helleno-Christian synthesis, supported by various political, religious, and intellectual circles, as we shall see in the next chapter. In this frame, Hellenism grew to be accepted not as an enemy of Christianity but rather as a useful and necessary partner in construing a viable modern Greek ideology. The modified view of Hellenic religion as benignly historical enabled the state to give official backing to the notion of Greek Antiquity, and to revive it in many respects without endorsing a Neopagan stance — as in the case of the venerable ancient Greek athletic tradition. In 1870, the ancient Stadium of Athens, where the Panathenaic Games used to be held every four years, was excavated and cleared. It was later rebuilt with marble from nearby Mount Pendeli to meet the needs of the 1896 Olympic Games. Such action was not meant to revive Hellenic religion and rituals (the Hellenic implications of the modern Olympic Games are discussed further later in this chapter). The same holds true for the numerous sport clubs and associations founded after 1870.111 This is not to say that instances of worship of antiquity or critical stances toward the church vanished altogether, but they did diminish and grow more isolated. One vestigial point of contention was the ongoing inclusion of stories from the Old Testament in the Greek school curricula. The issue highlighted residual conflict between Hellenism and Judaism, already explored in chapter 3. In 1883 Nikolaos Politis, the founder of folklore studies in Greece, paid a visit to primary schools in the province of Volos as an inspector. He judged the Bible lessons given to the children not only a waste of time but, in fact, disastrous. The ethics of

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the Decalogue — written from a negative perspective — were, he said, unsuitable for children, who did not yet know what their duties to society were; their innocent souls could be polluted upon hearing the vile deeds mentioned in the Decalogue (especially the eighth and tenth precepts). Children were forced to read and hear of the achievements of Jewish heroes (such as Gideon) and their occasionally monstrous deeds instead of learning about the extraordinary labors of Hercules and Theseus, which were marvelously described in ancient Greek poetry and fine art. On the contrary, they learned about Samson and his hair as if these were historical facts. Politis regarded the Old Testament as abounding in vile deeds, such as the lie of Adam and Eve to God and Cain’s fratricide. Even the most innocent-sounding stories in this Jewish book might teach one deceit and wickedness.112 Underlying Politis’s criticism was the friction between Hellenic and Jewish traditions and modes of thought. A development in such thinking occurred as Judaism came to be regarded by several modern Greeks as a precursor to and allied with Christianity, and thus at odds with Hellenism. These Greeks therefore either demanded the stronger Hellenization of Christianity and its purification from Jewish elements,113 or Christianity’s outright rejection as a Jewish construct having nothing to do with the authentic Hellenic tradition. Such critical views are characteristic of a whole array of anti-Romeic Hellenocentric and Neopagan currents in Greece, which have conspicuously arisen especially in the last few decades. Related groups strive to distinguish Hellenism from Christianity. For them, there is no middle road and to argue continuity among ancient Greece, Byzantium, and modern Greece would be a gross error. Hellenism, they contend, has been held captive for the past sixteen centuries and totally distorted under the thumb of Christianity. They hold not only Byzantium but also the modern Greek state and political leadership responsible for that captivity by clinging to the futile goal of Helleno-Christian synthesis. In fact, it could be said that Hellenic polytheism is the legitimate original religion of Greece. This attitude sometimes leads the modern-day Hellenic “ancestral activists” to demand the return of ancient sacred places for performing rituals and the expulsion of tourists from “confiscated” archaeological sites. It is helpful to distinguish between two broad yet overlapping categories of such currents, the anti-Romeic Hellenocentrists and the Neopagans. The first are more generally interested in a full-blown Hellenic revival, with emphasis on Greece’s ancient heritage, usually at the expense of the Orthodox

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Fig. 4.3. Cover page of an issue of the review Δαυλός (Torch), which is generally very critical of the Orthodox Church and its treatment of the Hellenic tradition. This specific issue deals with the strongly anti-Hellenic writings of John Chrysostom, since the church had declared 2007 the “Year of Saint John Chysostom.”

Christian tradition. Connections with right-wing nationalist, esoteric, or other idiosyncratic pro-Hellenic movements are not unusual. Such a group has been publishing Δαυλός (Torch) since 1982 (see fig. 4.3), a monthly review devoted to all aspects of Hellenic civilization, regarded as the “light of the world” and a paragon of unparalleled achievement. It touts the unquestionable superiority of the Hellenic race, spirit, and culture worldwide.

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It calls into question internationally accepted theories about the ancient Greeks, such as their Indo-European origins or the Phoenician provenance of the Greek alphabet, dismissing such theories as anti-Hellenic bias or, worse, Jewish propaganda. These authors perceive an abysmal chasm separating Hellenism and Judaism and promulgate the existence of a Jewish conspiracy against Hellenic civilization throughout history (e.g., the fierce critique of Martin Bernal’s book Black Athena in numerous issues of their review). They routinely discredit the Old Testament as anti-Hellenic, immoral, pernicious, racist, and fascist; they also take the view that Christianity is a product of Judaism and therefore an enemy of Hellenic culture for the past two thousand years. They also see Christian monotheism as the antithesis of Hellenic polytheism and regard their struggle as one of freedom and plurality versus dogmatism and violence. They blame totalitarian, cruel, theocratic, and inhuman Byzantium for the current dismal state of affairs. Further, they regard Ρωμιοσύνη (Greek Romeicity), the attempt to unite Hellenism and Christianity, as a grotesque hybrid, and the Ρωμιοί (Romeic Greeks) as bastard Hellenes who fell under the Jewish-Christian spell. In contrast, the Neopagans are less concerned with scalding diatribe and more concerned with reviving Hellenic religion as a way of reactivating the entire Hellenic culture. Estimates of the number of believing or practicing Neopagans in Greece range today from two thousand up to ten thousand, and the inclusion of sympathizers would probably significantly add to those figures. Greek Neopaganism, unlike many of its counterparts abroad, does not represent an eclectic mix of ideas, activities, and syncretic phenomena; rather, it claims a predominantly ethnic character, grounded in the ancestral, indigenous Hellenic tradition that existed long before the imported, foreign Christian religion arrived on the scene. Its basic characteristics are polytheism, worship of nature as a divine element, lack of recognized founders or divine revelation, a clear ethnic character and a Hellenic pantheon, and finally recognition of the importance of sacrifice as a gift to the deities. In fact, such groups usually reject the term “Neopagan” as a selfdesignation. They claim that Christians especially brandish terms like “Neopagans,” “heathens,” and “idolaters” as derogatory labels. They actually prefer to designate themselves as “Gentile/Ethnic Hellenes” ( Ἐθνικοὶ Ἕλληνες), as “followers of the ancestral Hellenic religion and way of life” (Ἀρχαιόθρησκοι, Ἀρχαιότροποι, Ἑλληνότροποι), or as “Dodekatheists” (Δωδεκαθεϊστές), i.e., worshippers of the pantheon of the twelve Olympian deities.

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An important Neopagan group publishes the review Διιπετές (Fallen from Zeus, i.e., from heaven) with the subtitle, In Defense of the Ancient Psyche. Its primary aim is to defend and uphold the pre-Christian Greek psyche and to create real (not nominal) Hellenes. The group berates the pseudo-worshippers of antiquity — Hellenized Christians, New Agers, and Hellenocentric nationalists and fascists — for disregarding the importance of Hellenic religion and using antiquity for selfish purposes and other objectives. It considers Hellenic religion a comprehensive cosmogonist, psychological, and eschatological system aimed at supplying humans with serious religious and philosophical meaning. To understand the Hellenic way of life, followers must envision the ancient psyche of their Hellenic ancestors as an internal fire that burns in and guides every person. The psyche signifies the possibility of human deification, which in turn is seen as a consubstantial element of the nature of the universe in which all humans live. Human beings, with their divine origin and potential for deification, can thus gain an optimistic, enthusiastic understanding of life and properly value each person’s dignity and freedom. These Neopagans find any correlation between Hellenism and Christianity unthinkable. Their attempt to de-Christianize modern Greece is evident in their use of the ancient Hellenic calendar of months and feast days, as well their replacement of overtly Christian holidays with pagan festivities. They organize rites and festivals outdoors (on sites like Mount Olympus) on such dates as full moon or summer solstice — offering prayers, libations, hymns, name-giving ceremonies, talks, artistic events, and pilgrimages to ancient sacred places — usually attired in various chlamyses of Ionian or Doric design. A reaction to the hostile Christian treatment of the Hellenic religion and its systematic persecution in history, however, lies at the heart of both anti-Romeic Hellenocentric and Neopagan endeavors. Adherents and detractors often raise their common voices in renewed discussion. There was even a meeting of the World Congress of Ethnic Religions in Athens in June 2004, scheduled to coincide roughly with the Olympic Games held in Athens in August 2004. The range of Neopagan interest groups and individuals became so diverse that an umbrella organization, the Supreme Council of the Gentile Hellenes, formed in 1997 to disseminate information and serve as an official organ and unified voice, better enabling the panoply of different groups to collectively express their concerns in Greece and before representative bodies abroad.114 As a result, Greek courts recognized the Hellenic religion in 2006 as one of the

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“known religions” in the country, thus bestowing legitimate status on Neopagan followers. This decision gave Neopagans a strong impetus to demand greater “rights” from the Greek state, such as permission to use ancient sacred places for their rituals and worship once more. On January 21, 2007, the Neopagan group Ἑλλήνων Ἀρχαιοθρήσκων Ἱερὸν Σωματεῖον (Sacred Association of Hellenic Followers of Ancestral Religion) set out to celebrate the feast of Gamelia or Theogamia (the Marriage of Zeus and Hera) in the ruins of the temple of Olympian Zeus in Athens but were soon hindered by police. They appealed to court and international forums to reignite their cause to combat what they perceive as blatant violations of basic human rights.115 It is obvious that the Neopagan revival in modern Greece, disparate though it may be, will endure and make headlines in the years to come. This broad Hellenic revival, particularly that of the Neopagans — although relatively marginal and lacking in mass appeal — did not fail to alarm the Orthodox Church, which was intent on silencing the upsurge at its rebirth. The metropolitan of Kitros and Katerini, whose diocese is situated near Mount Olympus, where Neopagan festivities usually take place, issued an encyclical (no. 192) on June 6, 1996, condemning such actions and warning the Orthodox public of the dangers arising from them.116 The Holy Synod of the Church of Greece formed a special committee to deal with this revival, resulting in a long, polemical leaflet entitled Ἡ προσπάθεια ἀναβιώσεως τῆς εἰδωλολατρίας (The Attempt to Revive Paganism), distributed free of charge to the Orthodox flock in 2004.117 The committee took the view that resurgent paganism demonstrated the spiritual crisis that had been building in modern Greece, and as a countermeasure it pleaded for renewed faith in Orthodox Christianity, the epitome of all religious truth. Its leaflet characterized Neopagan criticisms of Helleno-Christianity as part of an orchestrated plan to destroy the Orthodox Christian foundations of the modern Greek nation. The church defended its selective use of Hellenic tradition as appropriate to its followers, typifying pagan treatment of Christianity as false and, indeed, as the destroyer of true Hellenism. The leaflet went on to decry the low moral standards, crude anthropomorphism, and sick mysticism of the Hellenic religion. The only way to salvage the Hellenic tradition, the pamphleteers insisted, was to synthesize it with Christianity. Archbishop of Athens and All Greece Christodoulos (1998 – 2008) expressed similar ideas in a 2004 book entitled Ἑλληνισμὸς προσήλυτος

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(Proselyte Hellenism).118 Exploring reasons for the passage from paganism to Christianity, he concluded that ancient Greeks suffered deep existential dilemmas and were unsatisfied with their own religious tradition, as indicated by the sharp internal critiques already at play since antiquity. Just before Christianity’s appearance, ancient society and religion were in a state of internal decay and on the verge of collapse. Christodoulos goes on to say that, although many contemporary scholars speak highly of the unique ancient Greek heritage, they tend to overlook the latent decadence of the ancient era. The widespread sense of imminent collapse was what compelled the rulers and the masses to abandon Hellenic religion and embrace Christianity. The archbishop argues that the synthesis of “Christian Hellenism,” as accomplished by the Greek Church Fathers, is both the perennial and ideal model of orientation for subsequent generations of Greeks. His is one of many Orthodox responses to the broader Hellenic revival.119 Additional works offer justifications for positioning the Old Testament in the Greek Orthodox ecclesiastical culture and education.120 Our historical survey would not be complete without mention of the Orthodox rigorists who see Neopagan culprits under every stone. One such rigorist is the metropolitan of Florina, Eordaia, and Prespes (1967– 2000), Augustinos Kantiotis, a person renowned for his militancy and fervor in defending Orthodoxy in Greece and abroad. He denounced Hellenic religion and culture from a staunch moral perspective, regarding Hellenic deities as the perpetrators of abominable and disrespectful transgressions. He was contemptuous of the scourge of the “new Julians” working both explicitly and insidiously to paganize modern Greece. He recited an exhaustive list of Neopagan “plots” (some of which had already been carried out) to, among other things: teach Greek mythology in the schools; name streets and public places after Hellenic deities; emblazon the emblem of owl on the central building of the University of Athens (according to Basil of Caesarea, this nocturnal bird symbolizes a person who chooses to live in darkness and error rather than respond to Jesus’s light); employ the image of Pallas Athena as a logo on the seal and banner of the University of Athens; erect statues of Apollo and Athena in the Academy of Athens; organize Delphic Feasts and create an international cultural center in Delphi for promoting the Delphic ideal and spirit of universal cooperation; circulate books explicitly promoting paganism (e.g., Joseph Papadopoulos’s 1960 work, Ἑλληνικὴ ἱερὰ ἱστορία) in the school curricula; make Hermes’s head the symbol of the Greek national Postal Service and print a Hermes postage stamp; assist the Olympus Association, which intends to create a city in the foothills

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of the homonymous mountain inspired by Hellenic ideals and traditions; and revive the pagan rituals of marriage and baptism, to be performed at various Greek sites. These developments struck Kantiotis as signs of a deChristianization of Greece that the church should confront through radical means, such as excommunication. He argued that the Greek Postal Service should have chosen a more neutral symbol, like a white pigeon, instead of Hermes—a god known in antiquity as the protector of thieves and impostors, as well as the one who would cover up Zeus’s moral transgressions. This is why Kantiotis called the Hermes stamp “a satanic stamp, the stamp of the Antichrist.”121 The long-standing antipathy between Hellenism and Christianity, whose roots can be located in earlier centuries of Christian condemnation of Hellenism, is still alive and seething today. Another extreme case can be found in Orthodox rigorists who opposed the official lighting of the Olympic flame in the ancient location of Olympia on the occasion of the Atlanta Olympic Games of 1996. The rigorists decreed that the ceremony was totally inappropriate for Christian Greece. Why? Because a priestess during a related ceremony would symbolically invoke the god Apollo to send his sacred flame down to earth, clearly a ploy to fan the fires of paganism. The rigorists found the presence of the local metropolitan Germanos at this “pagan fiesta” particularly annoying, in effect accusing the Orthodox bishop of an act of treason against his own faith. Further, they protested, he ought to have been defrocked, according to the holy canons of the church. They sent a related complaint to the Holy Synod of the Church of Greece, demanding further investigation and contending that the lighting of the Olympic flame could have taken place without these supposedly sacred rituals and the ludicrous prayers to Apollo.122 Theirs was not the first instance of angry Orthodox Greek reaction to the pagan elements of the modern Olympic Games. The popular and zealous preacher, Apostolos Makrakis, had also protested the Athens Olympic Games of 1896 and the Olympic Anthem as “an introduction of the ancient pagan spirit of error and wickedness.”123 The Holy Synod denied permission to a priest seeking to participate in the Marathon race of 1896.124 The ceremonial lighting of the flame for the Berlin Olympic Games of 1936 in Nazi Germany and the introduction of the Olympic Torch Relay for the first time brought similar complaints in the official bulletin of the Church of Greece, calling these pagan-like rituals unworthy of the Greek people.125 Orthodox voices also charged that the spectacular opening ceremonies of the Athens Olympic Games of 2004, organized by the renowned choreographer Dimitris Papaioannou, focused more on Greece’s Hellenic and pagan past and

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less on its Christian history.126 Generally, some Orthodox circles associated the Athens Olympic Games of 2004 with a clear revival of paganism.127 To place these divergent aspects of Orthodox Christian and antiRomeic Hellenocentric/Neopagan orientations in the modern Greek context, we would do well to relate them to two basic identity models: Romeic and Hellenic. The topic gained special prominence following Patrick Leigh Fermor’s Helleno-Romeic “dilemma” thesis and his analytic typology of sixty-four points to distinguish these two models of identity.128 Social anthropologist Michael Herzfeld also talked about the fundamental “disemie” of modern Greek culture as a whole, namely the bipolarity resulting from these two different models of identity.129 The repercussions of this bipolarity do not pertain to religion alone but also involve other areas. Predictably, the Byzantine Orthodox Christian past and its relation to Greek Antiquity continue to be assessed in Greece today from divergent angles, both positive and negative.130 In a recent novel dealing with the Holy Mountain Athos and its monastic community, the Greek-French writer Vassilis Alexakis (b. 1943) has also critically discussed the differences between and repercussions of the open ancient Greek and the closed Byzantine Christian worldviews.131 Yet, although conflict is the predominant modus operandi for viewing the above cultural and religious models in Greece, it is only part of the story. As will become evident in the remaining chapters, the fallout from Hellenism and Christianity is but one aspect of a much richer tapestry. The modes of interaction between these two religious cultures are indeed multifaceted, with nuanced trajectories, and portend further evolution. We cannot infer that modern Greeks generally suffer an unresolved and insoluble identity crisis because of divergent models of identity. This is not to deny, though, existing problems in Greek identifications, both in history and at present. Nevertheless, identities are usually constructs, managed and adapted to specific conditions, not set in an exclusive direction. People can live quite well with multiple identities and their resulting contradictions. The same is valid for Greece to a considerable extent. It is generally the outside observer who nitpicks these differences and sees in them intractable problems.

5 Selection, Transformation, Synthesis It is, therefore, in accordance with the whole similitude of the bees, that we should participate in the pagan literature. For these neither approach all flowers equally, nor in truth do they attempt to carry off entire those upon which they alight, but taking only so much of them as is suitable for their work, they suffer the rest to go untouched. We ourselves too, if we are wise, having appropriated from this literature what is suitable to us and akin to the truth, will pass over the remainder. And just as in plucking the blooms from a rose-bed we avoid the thorns, so also in garnering from such writings whatever is useful, let us guard ourselves against what is harmful. At the very outset, therefore, we should examine each of the branches of knowledge and adapt it to our end, according to the Doric proverb, “bringing the stone to the line.” — Basil of Caesarea1

Stemming as it does from the fourth century, a period of intense conflict between Hellenism and Christianity, Basil’s prose about selecting the “good things” from Hellenic culture had extraordinary significance for the Christian appropriation of Hellenism. Basil’s short text about the right use of Greek literature appears in about one hundred separate manuscripts and has been quoted in both the East and West over the centuries, a testament to its wide reception and popularity.2 His work underscores a time-tested Christian policy — that of picking selected elements from preexisting religious and cultural settings and integrating them into its own religious culture. This became a classic strategy in the Christian missions down through the ages, particularly those of Eastern Orthodox Christianity, and it produced very successful outcomes. This mode of interaction extends beyond the narrow religious domain, however,

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and reaches into other contexts that positively correlated Hellenism and Christianity, including that of the modern Greek state. Let me concede from the outset that this mode of interaction between the two religious cultures was not a fully mutual one, but rather one initiated at the behest of Christianity and its historical actors. Pagans were not usually wont to initiate “togetherness,” first because they generally felt no special need for it, and second because soon after Christianity’s expansion and establishment they found themselves on the defense. During the Greco-Roman period and Late Antiquity, there was a reasonable amount of interaction between the two; it is possible to locate Christian influences on the pagan world and vice versa. Pagans also tried to create effective alternatives to combat Christian ideas and practices. The particular pagan monotheism of Late Antiquity, as we shall see in a later chapter, belongs to this category. Yet such pagan countermeasures had very little to do with Christianity’s systematic attempt to selectively appropriate Hellenism for its own objectives. This was primarily due to the fact that Christianity, as a new religious formation, did not possess its own separate cultural background and thus necessarily turned first to its Jewish and later to its broader pagan surroundings. If we are thus to talk, for example, about the selected transformation of Greek philosophy into a useful organ to formulate the nascent Christian dogma, as done by the Cappadocian Church Fathers in the fourth century, it is vital to keep in mind that this entire endeavor had clear Christian underpinnings and objectives and was initiated by convinced Christians. These remarks gain importance when examining the issue holistically, especially in regard to later periods of Greek history. The Helleno-Christian synthesis accomplished by the Greek Church Fathers thus took on paradigmatic dimensions. The church regarded this phenomenon as a mutual interaction between Hellenism and Christianity in the most ideal manner, glossing over or remaining silent on the exclusively Christian criteria that it pursued in this context. The pagan world remained rather unimpressed by this synthesizing or selective Christian appropriation of ancient Greek culture and learning. Indeed, pagans like Emperor Julian or pagan Neoplatonic philosophers like Iamblichus, Proclus, Damascius, Simplicius, and Olympiodorus of Alexandria reacted negatively to the attempts to force elements of Hellenism into a Christian mold, and tried to renew paganism to meet the Christian challenge.3 When, for example, Iamblichus (ca. 240 – ca. 325) formulated the new discipline of “theurgical divination” — including the mystic

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union, the ecstasy of the soul, the prophetic trance, and the reception of divine messages — he was not only trying to renew pagan divination but also to present an attractive alternative to Christianity.4 The battle between Christians and Neoplatonists over the use and possession of Plato is also indicative of the existing cleavage between the two sides. Despite the cases of fruitful interaction between the two, later Christian attacks on Neoplatonism — such as those of Nicholas, bishop of Methone (d. ca. 1165), against Proclus,5 and of the statesman and intellectual Nikephoros Choumnos (1250/55 – 1327) against Plotinus6 — reveal again their significant differences and concomitant tensions. Bearing this in mind, the evaluation of this mode of interaction as a “positive” one stems mainly from a Christian, not a Hellenic, perspective. Pagans gaped in dismay or alarm as the process of Christianization took hold, its “positive” effects greatly outweighed by the negative measures taken by Christians to suppress or even end the pagan world. The views of Greek pagans and Neopagans that we have already looked at amply demonstrate this difference in perspectives. Yet the “synthesis mode” gained particular favor in modern Greece, and had the added bonus of “demonstrating” the historical, cultural, and religious continuity of Greeks from ancient times to the present. For this reason, it constitutes a key aspect of modern Greece’s religious history, culture, and ideology. But why did Christian actors need to apply the strategy of the selective appropriation of Hellenism so broadly? Hellenism, and Hellenic polytheism in particular, also showed great adaptive and accommodating ability; witness the ongoing incorporation of foreign cults and deities into its system. The main distinguishing factor accounting for Christianity’s expansion and success, however, was the aforementioned dialectic between inclusivity and exclusivity. To recap briefly, Hellenic polytheism was an inclusive system in terms of tolerance of foreign elements and plurality, an openness that evolved serendipitously as opposed to systematically. Nevertheless, it had problems making exclusive claims of representing the sole, unique religious truth and engaging itself in missionary activities. We know that a kind of “orthodoxy” was established in Neoplatonic philosophy as well,7 but this pertained more to doctrinal consistency and had little in common with the Christian Orthodoxy that became established in Byzantium and later in Greece. By contrast, Christianity learned to be both inclusive and exclusive, systematically expanding and attracting as many adherents as possible, and, more important, feeling entitled to claim absolute religious truth and

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demand complete allegiance through conversion. Its sense of missionary imperative fostered and enhanced contact with other religious cultures and led to the articulation of appropriating strategies — executed smoothly or, barring that, more aggressively. Christian actors found many creative ways to convince new followers, both before and after the new religion took hold. We should remember that early Christianity did not spell out the abolition of the Jewish law but rather its completion and fulfillment (Matt. 5, 17). Things changed, of course, when Christianity began to act from a position of power and resorted many times to repression and violence in order to “persuade” non-Christians. The oscillation between inclusivity and exclusivity thus retained its value as a useful strategy of Christian establishment and expansion. Let us now focus on three key aspects related to the present mode of interaction. The first of these is selection. In developing purpose and criteria over the centuries, Christian actors have always been selective, especially when it came to appropriating “bits and pieces” of other religions and cultures. They certainly did this with Hellenism. Some of these choices enjoyed the church’s official approval. Others were less warmly received and either rejected or, in extreme cases, condemned. The inculcation of selected Hellenic elements into the Christian framework was not a matter of simple transition. In most cases, passing an element from one religious culture to another required its thorough transformation. This process gave rise to a new “look,” new formations within Christianity, though not necessarily absent traces of pre-Christian elements. A further step was to eliminate potential dangers and contradictions inherent in clothing Hellenic elements in Christian garb. The creation of a coherent whole and the ironing out of eventual incongruities took place via the process of synthesis. This step put the finish on meaningfully and organically integrating the transformed elements into a new unit that would best serve the new religion. Whether pagans throughout the centuries were truly persuaded by these strategies and supporting arguments is another question. Many aspects of this mode of interaction related to the broad strategy of substitution — namely adopting pagan religious elements (feasts, rituals, practices, beliefs) and Christianizing them, or creating new Christian alternatives to or even equivalents of selected pagan traditions. This clever tactic for establishing and disseminating Christian authority, beliefs, and practices enabled many converts from Hellenism to slide rather smoothly into the new religious setting. This transition did not seem alien to them

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because it nicely preserved the appearance of the past and provided an underlying continuity between old and new. This integrative and adoptive Christian strategy was not fortuitous and accidental but rather systematic and planned. Christian actors usually tried to appropriate the Hellenic tradition with precise goals in mind. Many of them were conversant in Hellenic education and culture. Hence, the cases we look at in this chapter are not random events that occurred at the grassroots level but rather deliberate and systematic acts, often reflecting official church and state policies. Another thing to remember: the church always treated Hellenism with suspicion and caution, even when appropriating it selectively and showing a rather positive, tolerant attitude. A recurrent underlying fear was that Hellenism would seize autonomy and loosen itself from Christian control. Seen from this perspective, selection, transformation, and synthesis were thus always marked by the features of antithesis and tension and the specter of potential conflict, even while Christian criteria were being applied to bring Hellenism and Christianity into harmony.

The Ancient Period (up to 330 CE) Early Christianity’s first productive contacts with the Hellenic tradition were almost inevitable in the Greco-Roman world, as the use of the Greek language by the new religion demonstrates. This was a successful medium of communication for spreading the new religious message, particularly in the East. Many of Christianity’s basic texts, Biblical and otherwise, were originally written in or translated into Greek, and missionaries like the Apostle Paul disseminated the Christian message in Greek. Thus, Christianity addressed pagans in their own language, even tapping their own familiar lore. Christian efforts to bridge the gap to the pagan world and to attract its attention were thus discernable at an early stage in history. These early successes achieved a strategic “multiplier effect” as time went on. Take, for example, references to the incarnate Logos (Λόγος) — that is, the “Word” in the Gospel of John (1, 1, 14) — which points to the preexistence and the incarnation of Jesus Christ. This was very likely an appeal to Stoic philosophers whose ears were attuned to the idea of Logos as the rational force operative in the world, shared by humans and deities alike. The cosmic Logos operated through various minor seminal logoi. The ideal was congruence between the world and the Logos. The designation

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of the Son of God, Jesus Christ, as the divine Logos operating in the world probably constitutes an early “stitching together” of Christian theology and Greek philosophy.8 This is a tactic similar to Paul’s when he made his speech in Athens and addressed Christian communities in Greece. With his solid education in Greek philosophy and language, Paul was obviously familiar with Plato’s theory about the ideal forms to be found behind perceived reality. Paul’s phrase, “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face” (1 Cor. 13, 12), probably reflects Platonic influence on his thought, naturally integrated into a Christian setting. Paul seems to have been equally aware of Stoicism’s parallels to Christianity, especially regarding the virtuous life of duty and the realm of ethics.9 There are also further quotations from Greek literature by Paul, such as from the philosopher-poet Epimenides (sixth century BCE) and the poet Menander (342/41 – 291/90 BCE), included in an attempt to show that some Christian tenets were not exceptional.10 As Christianity grew steadily, there were more systematic attempts to bring together the new religion and Hellenism. An important figure in this tradition was Justin the Martyr (ca. 100 – 165), a well-informed person also given the accolade “the Philosopher.” He was born into a Greekspeaking family in Samaria and was possibly of Greek origin. In his First Apology, addressed to the Emperor Antoninus Pius (r. 138 – 61), his sons, and the Roman Senate, Justin defended Christians against Roman persecutions, extolling their high moral standards and calling them the true philosophers and worshippers of God. In another work, Dialogue with the Jew Tryphon, he revealed his early, fruitless exploration of various philosophical systems before discovering the God-revealed truth in Christianity. He flirted with the Stoic idea of the “seminal word,” imbuing it with Christian meaning. He noted that Greek philosophers before Christ had only a partial understanding of truth (“seeds”),11 which Christ had revealed in its fullness. This partaking of the truth was evidence of the divine Logos, Jesus Christ, operating in the pre-Christian world prior to his incarnation (e.g., John 1, 1). Justin went so far as to designate such Greek philosophers as Socrates and Heraclitus as “Christians before Christ,”12 in whose thoughts the “seeds of truth” had been planted. In parallel to this elevated praise, Justin lashed out at pagans for being seduced by demons and worshipping idols instead of the one true God.13 Stretching the same strand of tradition further was Clement of Alexandria (150 – 211/16), who had an exceptionally good command of Greek

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literature and philosophy and made frequent allusions to non-Christian authors. He taught in Alexandria but had probably been educated in Athens. His works — Exhortation to the Hellenes, Instructor, and Miscellanies — represent the first systematic attempt to extract select elements from Hellenism and combine them with Christian ideas in a constructive manner. He was rather eclectic in his philosophical preferences. He picked up on Justin’s valuable idea of the “seeds of truth” in Greek philosophy, and reviled the Sophists and Epicureans, the faults of the Olympian deities, and the crude pagan rites. Clement’s view was that the positive elements of Hellenism arose from the divine Logos, whose incarnation in the person of Jesus Christ superseded the limited, imperfect knowledge of Greek philosophers. Hence, he accorded philosophy and reason a beneficial role in giving Christians a construct for approaching matters of faith and morality. To bolster his arguments, he selected helpful elements from Stoicism (fulfilling moral obligations and achieving inner calm through mortification of passions) and Platonism (attaining likeness to God as a human goal through rising above earthly matters). Clement also underscored the importance of γνῶσις (i.e., knowledge), which bloomed to the fullest in Christianity. The true Gnostic was thus, in his opinion, the perfect Christian, the instructed one who strove to gain knowledge from all these sources in order to attain perfection and freedom from all passions. In his work Instructor, Clement drew on the intricate tradition of pedagogy in youth education in the ancient Greek world, explaining how an average believer could be transformed into an instructed Christian.14 It is also worth mentioning that both Justin and Clement aimed their arguments not only at legitimizing the new religion but also at devaluing Hellenism. To this purpose, they applied a particular strategy to show Biblical precedent over Greek philosophy. Formulated in various forms, their argument went that Jewish tradition had temporal priority over the ancient Greek one because Greek philosophers had depended on Judaism for their ideas and, in effect, plagiarized material from Mosaic Law and the Old Testament. This argument was designed to deprive Greek thought of its reputation for originality and diminish the adulation that it enjoyed in the Greco-Roman world. Thus, Justin supported the idea of Greek philosophers, poets, and legislators deriving most of the elements of truth in their systems from Mosaic Law. Clement, too, cited the parallels between both sides, claiming that Greek philosophers had not only robbed the Old

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Testament but also distorted its message. In addition, talking of the ancient Greek debt to the Jewish tradition in a Christian context allowed these Apologists to view Christianity as the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecies. In all probability, the Apologists had taken their line of argument from like-minded Jews and applied it to the needs of the new religion.15 All these endeavors illustrate early Christian ingenuity and initiative in borrowing selectively not only from Judaism but also from Hellenism and Greco-Roman paganism in general, and casting these elements in the new Christian mold. This process not only seeped into the intellectual, theological realm but also entered other areas of religious life, such as popular practices, ritual life, art, iconography, and architecture.16 For example, early Christians used the artistic media of their pagan environment, giving them new meaning. They employed familiar symbols — such as the peacock, grapevine, lamb, dove, and good shepherd — and went on to develop new ones, like the fish.17 It is also very likely that the cult of Christian martyrs and saints had a lot in common with the cult of heroes in Greco-Roman Antiquity. Similar analogies existed, in all probability, between Christian and pagan feasts, such as the link between Christmas and the winter solstice festival (December 25 also being reported as the birthday of Mithras). Christian ritual practices (baptism) also had parallels in the pagan world. Further analogies can be located between the mystery cults and the sacred mysteries (sacraments, μυστήρια) in early Christianity. Pagan and Christian mysteries were kept hidden, and participation in them was allowed only after special initiation and gradual instruction. Early Jesus worship also bore similarities to the cult of Dionysus — both deities shared a divine provenance, were born of a virgin mother, performed miracles, met with enemies, suffered death, and rose again. Dionysus was, in fact, a serious rival to Jesus, and early Christian Apologists were at pains to dissociate Christianity from the Dionysiac mystery cult.18 In addition, Christianity took on much of the pagan vocabulary, tailoring it with new meaning. For example, the Greek term ἐκκλησία (assembly), used for the public city meetings and in mystery cults for the community of initiates, began to refer to the assembly of Christian believers and their main worship places. Originally meaning public work and service, the term “liturgy” ( λειτουργία) also came to signify the Christian

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system of worship, including the Eucharistic service. Other terms, like “dogma” (δόγμα), “doxa” (δόξα), and “heresy” (αἵρεσις), took on new meaning in the exclusive and authoritative Christian lexicon. Christianity’s ability to pick and choose from its surrounding pagan culture and transform these elements also led to differentiation from that pagan environment. As chapter 2 cautioned, we should not misinterpret appropriation and incorporation as an indicator of Christianity’s absolute dependence on its religious and cultural predecessors. Rather, a multiplicity of parallel and similar religious developments and transformations took place under the political, social, and cultural conditions of the Roman Empire. This common background can explain the striking similarities between all these religious formations that mutually interacted with one another in the Mediterranean basin. Thus, an inevitable process gained momentum. Christianity sprang from the soil of the Greco-Roman world and “grew into” the broader pagan environment while sprouting extraordinary branches, like exclusive monotheism and missionary zeal. This development, which included selecting, transforming, and synthesizing from Hellenism and Greco-Roman paganism in general, would intensify greatly from the fourth century onward.

The Byzantine Period ( from 330 to 1453) Not surprisingly, Christianity entered a dynamic phase and a position of power once it gained the political and social support of the Roman Empire. Subsequent attempts to bring Hellenism and Christianity together reached a catalytic peak, particularly in the East. Christian theology in Byzantium acquired from the very beginning a special “Hellenic” character that would serve a paradigmatic function in the centuries to come. Many educated Christians of the Byzantine era took it on themselves to fuse the most convincing and plausible elements of Hellenism into promoting Christianity and formulating its particular discourse, which, despite inherent ambiguities, managed to become established and influential.19 The process of the “correct use” of ancient Greek learning took various forms in Christian theology.20 Using a tree analogy, it ranged from the “pruning” away of false elements of Hellenic tradition to the subtle transplantation or grafting of the old tradition to the new (e.g., Rom. 11, 24).21 The material selected for this purpose was, however, quite heterogeneous, ranging from Neoplatonism to Hermetic philosophy.22

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“Christian Hellenism” entwined Christian doctrine and Hellenic culture thanks largely to towering ecclesiastical personalities of the fourth century. Armed with thorough classical educations and Christian fervor, the aforementioned Cappadocian Church Fathers took prominence in furthering this synthesis. Their most significant contribution was the use of Greek philosophical language to formulate the supreme tenets of Trinitarian theology (Christology, Pneumatology). They explored its consequences for anthropology, especially concerning sin and salvation. They also helped establish important terms like οὐσία (essence), πρόσωπον (person), and ὑπόστασις (hypostasis) in the Christian vocabulary. As historian of Christian thought Jaroslav Pelikan put it, this period marked the “metamorphosis of Greek natural philosophy.” Through their apophatic theology, which postulated the limitations of human discursive abilities with regard to the divine realm, these Church Fathers accommodated Greek philosophical (Platonic) speculation to Christian belief, departing from the previous appropriation of Platonism in Origen’s theology.23 Their model of conforming to natural reason while remaining faithful to the Bible and Christian tradition became an accepted norm in the church. Despite various critical evaluations of their contribution in modern times (e.g., as a “Hellenization of Christianity” by Adolf von Harnack),24 their work — together with that of John Chrysostom — was a majestic amalgamation that gave rise to a “Christian Hellenism” that has since engendered considerable Greek and, more generally, Eastern Orthodox self-understanding.25 The Cappadocian Fathers were quite keen on promoting their model of selectively appropriating Hellenism. As already seen, Basil of Caesarea addressed youth on how to make good and pertinent use of ancient Greek literature. Gregory of Nazianzus, who had been intensely exposed to the charms of Hellenic learning, remained a devout churchman and gained fame as a Christian rhetorician. He also excelled in composing verses, didactic and dogmatic, yet demonstrating his command of classical works and technical poetic skill. His Christian eloquence was unsurpassed throughout Byzantium, earning him the honorific “the new Demosthenes.” He had little respect for those Christians who abhorred classical learning as treacherous and dangerous. One could simply avoid, he argued, the mistakes and the dangers of the foolish idolaters and reap the advantages of classical education, not only in rhetoric but also in its totality. Selective appropriation and reworking of classical education in a Christian frame, as Apostle Paul had suggested (2 Cor. 10, 5), remained

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for Gregory the perennial rule, because for all people of sense education constituted the foremost advantage and most valuable possession.26 In philosophical reasoning, Gregory of Nyssa was even more accomplished than the other two Cappadocians, which he put again in the service of the church. In his Life of Moses he used allegories (e.g., Pharao’s daughter as a type of pagan philosophy) to explain the role of philosophy in Christian theology. Barren pagan philosophy could become fertile only after being associated with the Christian faith.27 Lest we forget, the backdrop to this flurry of enlightened activity was still a period of intense conflict between Christianity and the pagan world. These theologians were sorely aware of the dangers that lurked in pagan doctrine. Such concerns even led them to serious reservations concerning the utility of classical learning. In a letter to Eustathios Sevastenos, Basil of Caesarea revealed his contempt for profane wisdom and its study. As he wrote, he had been obsessed as a young man by the vain will to study the God-despised worldly lessons until he discovered the light and the truth of the Bible. In this regard, he wished that he had known earlier what was important rather than spending so much time on trivial things.28 Gregory of Nazianzus also was an outspoken critic of Julian and his pagan revival,29 and was keenly aware of the dangers posed by the Greek sages.30 Both examples make clear the ambivalent attitude toward Hellenic culture that infected Christian thought and expression. To understand this ambivalence, it is important to realize that Hellenic culture and learning, although they might be useful disciplines in the service of the church, were not means to attaining what Christians regarded as perfection. The church could simply survive without them. The Cappadocians were preeminently devout Christian believers and churchmen with more pressing priorities than dealing with Hellenism, such as living ascetic and virtuous lives and achieving inner improvement. This is why they both criticized and employed Hellenic learning. Such a bipolar tradition survived in the church in myriad forms. Characteristically, the church “downplayed” at times the importance of Gregory of Nazianzus’s generally acknowledged rhetorical abilities. The hymns sung during the celebration of his feast day on January 25 praise “the pastoral flute” of Gregory’s theology, which “conquered the trumpets of orators” and thereby “dispelled their complexities.” The selective Christian appropriation of Hellenism also had a further history. An unknown writer of the fifth or sixth century, who used the pseudonym Dionysius the Areopagite, posited his own synthesis of

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Neoplatonic philosophy and Christian theology. Pseudo-Dionysius constructed a hierarchy of existence populated by various beings with gradations of quality yet all belonging to God’s creation. He took the names of his “celestial hierarchy” from both the corps of angels and from Neoplatonic mysticism, especially that of Proclus, which is why he was called “Christian Proclus.” In such works as Mystical Theology and On the Divine Names, however, he distanced himself from Neoplatonism on many crucial points. For example, he rejected the doctrine of emanation of beings in a hierarchical order and affirmed his belief in God’s creation of the world out of nothing. He also understood the mystical union with God in a fundamentally Christian context. Without denying God’s immanence in the creation, he supported an apophatic theology postulating that God’s essence remains forever transcendent and unknowable; hence, God can only be described through negative attributes. Humans can only hope to communicate and unite with God through divine energies, an ecstasy of the purified human soul meeting God’s ecstatic love. PseudoDionysius exercised considerable influence in Byzantium, appealing to those thinkers with Neoplatonic inclinations but also to those who had moved beyond Neoplatonism to proclaim the deification of humans in Christ — through grace — as the way to redemption.31 Maximos the Confessor (ca. 580 – 662) was another important theologian who strove toward a further profound synthesis of Christianity and Hellenism, especially in his Ambigua (Difficulties), which perpetuated the theology of the Cappadocians and Pseudo-Dionysius. He particularly valued the Greek classical heritage, but he did not put it above his Orthodox Christian faith, which he staunchly defended during his era (even paying the high price of exile and mutilation).32 Not all the Christian theologians working in this direction were of Greek origin, but they did have an amazing knowledge of Greek philosophy, language, and culture. A prominent example was John of Damascus (ca. 675 – 753/54), of Syrian or Arabic origin and the most important theologian of his era. He was especially known for systematizing Christian dogma, encouraging icon veneration, and refuting Islam. In fact, he crafted his defense of the holy images using a Platonic model of the iconic structure of the created world. In the multivolume work Fount of Knowledge, he made ample use of classical learning. In his Dialectics, he explored philosophical — mostly Aristotelian — definitions and meanings, whereas his Exact Exposition of the Orthodox Faith reprised earlier patristic theology and Christian doctrine and drew on profane knowledge as

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well. His is a fine example of the tradition of selective appropriation of the Hellenic culture to the benefit of Christianity.33 It is quite interesting that such an erudite man expressed repeated misgivings about the course that he had taken. Clearly, the word of God, endowed with the grace of the Holy Spirit, held priority over Hellenic wisdom on his scale of preferences. God’s grace and inspiration, he wrote, could achieve amazing things, like transforming the deaf and mute into powerful orators.34 At one point, he also criticized those Christians who would exaggerate the wisdom of Aristotle, making him a saint and the thirteenth of the Apostles.35 What happened in later Byzantine centuries? Were there any new attempts to combine or synthesize Christianity and Hellenism? Although this did occur in principle, the attempts enjoying the church’s favor and approval did not substantially differ from earlier ones. It was, in any case, a period already demarcated by the definitive formulation of the Christian doctrine. The church had other, more urgent needs and priorities than a novel blending of Hellenism and Christianity, and thus it relied more on the preexisting tradition on this matter (e.g., the Cappadocian one). Mostly, we find that important theologians and churchmen stood out for their immense interest in classical learning — a pursuit heightened by some of the intellectual and classical revivals experienced in the Late Byzantine era. These scholar-churchmen were able to contribute to both the theological domain and profane studies with little fuss or opposition. Such an individual was the patriarch of Constantinople (858 – 67, 877 – 86) Photios I. In addition to his theological contributions, especially his dissertations on the doctrinal differences between the Orthodox East and the Latin West, he had an amazing knowledge of ancient Greek literature. In his Amphilochia, addressed to Amphilochius, the bishop of Cyzicos, Photios tackled difficult passages of the Bible, incorporating his knowledge of philosophy and classical literature. His Bibiotheca or Myriobiblos amassed a huge amount of information about the lives and works of classical (mostly historical writers) and sacred authors that Photios had read, some of which are known to us today solely through his commentaries.36 In his Lexicon, he demonstrated his keen interest in language issues and conveying the vocabulary of classical and sacred authors. Photios suffered as a result of his erudition in classical literature. Though recognized as an eminent ecclesiastic, his involvement in serious conflicts of the day — both in Byzantium and the Latin West — earned him many detractors, particularly from the circle of his opponent, Patriarch Ignatius (847 – 58, 867 – 77).

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Trying to discredit him, some charged him with being overly influenced by paganism.37 This accusation was far from true. Photios supported the selective Christian appropriation of Hellenic learning, as had been initiated by the Apostle Paul; at the same time, he clearly condemned the polytheistic ontology and cosmology of Hellenism.38 A similar case of an important church intellectual was that of the archbishop of Thessalonica Eustathios (ca. 1115 – ca. 1195). His classical education far exceeded that of his contemporaries and he was renowned for his oratorical powers and the richness of his prose. His elaborate use of the Greek language documents his erudition and deep familiarity with Greek literature. He compiled a body of Greek literary critique, gathering commentaries on works like Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey that had been written by Alexandrian grammarians and critics. In quoting them, he contributed to classical knowledge that might otherwise have been lost, not only to the Middle Ages but also to posterity. He also commented on Pindar and Aristophanes. He expressed profound regret at what many Christians had earlier done to neglect or despise classical learning and to show an enmity toward education in general. In his work On the Improvement of Monastic Life, he aimed sharp barbs at illiterate monks continuing those same practices in his era.39 Another noteworthy case of a selective Christian appropriation of Hellenic learning is that of the archbishop of Thessalonica Gregory Palamas (ca. 1296 – 1359). Caught up in the Hesychast controversies, Palamas is often placed today among those who were opposed to classical education and philosophy, which were so highly valued by his opponents (e.g., Nikephoros Gregoras).40 Yet in his work Defense of the Holy Hesychasts, he described Greek philosophy as a gift from God that was useful for knowledge, depending on how it was put to use. In principle, he was only against its abuses in the domain of theology and the resulting underestimation of the Christian truth.41 Palamas was familiar with Aristotelian logic and cleverly used it in order to draw some distinctions between Orthodox theology on the one side, and pagan as well as Latin theology on the other. He held the certainty of true theology to result from the use of evident propositions, whose function is analogous to that of axioms in the sciences, especially in geometry.42 He discussed at length Aristotle’s criteria of demonstrative and dialectic syllogisms and conceded that Hellenic polytheistic theology was based on plausible premises. In his eyes, this made its arguments solely conjectural (“dialectic”), unlike the demonstrations based on the divinely revealed truths employed by Christianity.43

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He also found the principles used by Latin theologians too weak to form even dialectic arguments, let alone demonstrations.44 It has been argued, though, that Palamas over-interpreted Aristotle for his purposes and thus deviated in the end from the premises of Aristotelian logic.45 Outside the theological and intellectual domain, there were other Christian actors at work selectively consuming pagan elements and traditions within a transformational Christian frame. In religious architecture, for example, basilicas — the axial, rectangular edifices of Roman provenance — served as the dominant model for church buildings from the fourth century on.46 As already mentioned, archaeological research has uncovered plenty of early Christian basilicas in numerous Greek cities. This remained the primary model for Christian churches until the sixth century, when a distinct style of Byzantine church architecture emerged, yet basilicas continued to be built in later centuries.47 As we already know, Christians quickly became “seasoned confiscators” of preexisting temples and sanctuaries, either inhabiting them, transforming them, or dismantling them to build new places of Christian worship. Yet paganism in Greece lingered on, and such overtakings often took place at later times. This development certainly entailed confrontation between Hellenism and Christianity and obvious conflict. Yet, seen from the Christian side of the present mode of interaction, the process was still a “sacred one.” It is thus claimed that Christians sought not so much to destroy as to transform, imbuing ex-pagans with a sense of continuity between old and new, a way of facilitating transition. It was the transformation of Parthenon from a temple of the goddess Athena into a church of the Virgin Mary that the metropolitan of Athens (1182 – 1204) Michael Choniates, a former pupil of Eustathios of Thessalonica, recounted when he said, “Acropolis was liberated from the tyranny of pseudo-virgin Athena” and was replaced “by the everlasting Virgin and Mother of God.”48 This is not to say that Christians freely accepted all preexisting pagan elements. There was, for example, profound skepticism toward certain pagan representations of the divine. Some early Church figures, like Eusebius of Caesarea or Epiphanios of Salamis, had a jaundiced view of pictorial images, linking them explicitly to paganism.49 Such reservations appeared much stronger during the Iconoclastic conflict. Sculpture, having been the main choice of divine representation in antiquity, also fell into disfavor in Byzantine Christian art. Statues of Jesus, Mary, or Christian saints were seldom commissioned and were mostly prohibited because of

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their strong association with paganism. Yet a number of various carved representations and decorations, reliefs, icons, and mosaics found their way into the church to fill the artistic gap.50 At the same time, Christians showed no reservations about borrowing from the pagan world other elements to articulate their own sacred figures. They adapted pagan painting styles and techniques, as well as forms and materials. The iconographic motif of the Mother of God holding Jesus Christ in her arms became widespread in Byzantium, but it actually had pagan antecedents: the goddess Isis giving virgin birth to Horus, an ancient Egyptian god, and suckling her son at her breast;51 or the god Hermes holding the infant Dionysus.52 Even the attributes given to the Mother of God in Christianity have antecedents in Hellenic religion, such as κουροτρόφος, meaning the one who rears and brings up boys.53 Christians continued, further, the tradition of deities as protectors of cities by replacing them with patron saints. That the cult of the Mother of God in Constantinople went on to enjoy great popularity and a rich devotional status was no accident: it was really a gradual replacement for the preexisting cult of the pagan goddesses Tyche (Fortuna) and Rhea, who during the fifth century rivaled her worship.54 Additionally, there exist striking parallels between pagan pastoral deities and Christian saints as shepherd and sheep protectors.55 It is also interesting to what extent Byzantine death rituals resembled the ancient Greek ones. The role of the Greek ψυχοπομποί, namely the couriers of the souls, was taken over in Christianity by the angels, who escorted the soul on its forty-day journey through a series of toll gates guarded by demons, who charged the soul for its sins. As Byzantinist George T. Dennis noted: “The ancient ephodion or food for the journey was replaced by the Eucharist, and repeated reception of the Eucharist on the day of death was recommended in the hope that one would die with the host in one’s mouth. The pagan funeral meal at the tomb survived in the form of the kollyva, boiled wheat cakes with raisins and nuts, which, after prayers for the dead had been recited, were distributed on the third, ninth, and fortieth days after death.”56 There were many other pagan traditions and practices that soon found Christian counterparts, such as incubation, the practice of sleeping in the precincts dedicated to a deity who could visit the suppliant in a dream for the purpose of physical or mental healing.57 This practice found soon its Christian counterparts. This was the case for the Athens Asklepieion, on which a church dedicated to Saint Andrew (patron of healing) was built

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before the end of the fifth century.58 Here we have conclusive evidence of transition from pagan to Christian healing. It is likely that this has happened with other pagan healing cults as well, although precise historical evidence is still lacking (e.g., the case of Saint Marina of Theseion in Athens).59 Yet the Christian practice of replacing or transforming pagan traditions and practices — as we shall see in the next two chapters — was not entirely successful in eradicating the pagan past and the challenges it posed to the Christian world that sprang from it. Because Christians initiated all these appropriating actions, Hellenism was almost always the clear “loser.” An illustrative example comes from the world chronicles penned by George Synkellos (d. 810), John Zonaras (d. after 1159), Constantine Manasses (ca. 1130 – ca. 1187), and others. They pretty much rewrote history, dating from the creation of the earth to the medieval present, including a linear progression of mankind that led up to Christ’s Second Coming. Because God was designated as the ultimate instigator of historical events, what place did the Hellenic past occupy in them? Constrained as they were by their emphasis on Biblical and Roman history, these chroniclers simply overlooked ancient Greece, except for the history of Alexander the Great’s conquests, which were evaluated as a preparatory stage for the Christian history of salvation. No matter, the intended audience was a Roman/Byzantine and Christian public with similar sensibilities and expectations. Although meant to provide a comprehensive world history, these synthesizing chronicles rendered Hellenic legend and history nonexistent.60 Such a perspective changed after 1204, however, when a particular Byzantine Hellenic consciousness began to awaken. But this was not necessarily detrimental to Christian identity, as the examples of many learned Byzantines show. The leading intellectual and statesman Theodore Metochites (1270 – 1332) was a man with a deep knowledge of and admiration for ancient Greek letters and authors. He wrote, “We who share their language and are the descendants of the Hellenes owe them almost everything we have.”61 Yet he did not refrain from exerting criticism of their authority, as he did in critiquing the Metaphysics of Aristotle. Furthermore, although he acknowledged their insights and perspicacity, he was in no way prepared to call his Christian faith into question and supported the selective employment of Greek wisdom for church purposes. A somewhat different path was followed by Manuel Chrysoloras (ca. 1350 – 1415), who had contributed a lot to the cause of the Renaissance and

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Humanism in the West. In 1397 he was the first to begin teaching ancient Greek language and literature in Florence, and he later converted to Roman Catholicism. He admired Classical Antiquity in its totality, including the works of art, and made frequent references to Hellenic mythology and history in his writings. Yet he supported the study of both pagan and Christian literary treasures of antiquity. He also seemed to believe in an ethnic and cultural continuity running from ancient Greece through the Greco-Roman period to Christian Byzantium.62

The Ottoman Period (1453 – 1830) During the entire Ottoman period the church continued to support the selective appropriation of Hellenic tradition (as long as it stayed under clerical control and supervision) and to promote an “Orthodox Christian Humanism” that was not detrimental to its purposes.63 This was not very difficult at the beginning, given that the church from the period of the Patriarchal Academy in Constantinople onward controlled the educational system64 and reigned supreme as the ideological backbone of its Orthodox subjects within the Millet system. Aside from Biblical, patristic, and ecclesiastical-liturgical literature, the educational system enveloped a great deal of classical learning, from grammar and poetry to epistolography and rhetoric, happily endorsed by the church for its own purposes.65 After all, literacy in ancient Greek was a prerequisite for reading and understanding the Bible and the texts of the Church Fathers. Although that situation would change with the Hellenic revival of the late eighteenth century, the “Halcyon days” of the Ottoman era marked greater harmony between Hellenism and Orthodox Christianity; indeed, they played a significant role in the formation of a related Greek Orthodox identity. In other words, Orthodox Greeks seemed content with the Hellenic tradition applied in proper proportions under the tutelage of the church. The erection of the church of Panagia Gorgoepikoos (Saint Eleftherios) in Athens, mentioned in chapter 4, attest to this kind of “synthesis” between Hellenism and Christianity in the early phase of Greece’s Ottoman period. It came as no surprise, then, that many Greeks at that time were eager to maintain their connection to both Greek Antiquity and the Orthodox tradition. They were able to gain a distinct identity largely in contrast to the Ottoman Muslim and Western Christian worlds. Viewing themselves as Orthodox Christians, they claimed to preserve an authentic, unbroken,

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and uncontaminated Christian tradition; viewing themselves as Greeks, they could maintain a distinctive ethnic character and lay claim to possession of a unique handle on Greek Antiquity, as well as a direct line to their glorious ancestors. This combination was a particular form of synthesis that they engaged in often, especially in their dealings with the West. For example, when Michael Apostoli(o)s (ca. 1422 – 80) attempted to defend the Orthodox East against the “West” (i.e., Italy), which was displacing Byzantium in cultural leadership, his argument was based on the continuity between ancient Greek and Byzantine Christian scholarship.66 Further, several Orthodox Greeks visited Martin Crusius (1526 – 1607), professor of Greek and Latin at the University of Tübingen, who was profoundly interested in the survival of Greek culture during and after Byzantium.67 When they informed him of conditions for Greeks under Ottoman rule, they were quite emphatic about their combined Greek and Orthodox Christian identity. The same is also true for the learned patriarch of Alexandria (1636 – 39) Metrophanes Kritopoulos (1589 – 1639), who met with numerous scholars in Western Europe, worked for the unity of the Christian Churches, and was admired for his knowledge of the Greek language (both ancient and vernacular) and the Orthodox tradition.68 Considering that Western Europe showed keen interest in Greek Antiquity, a conflict of interests gradually arose among Greeks and West Europeans. The critical question became who could lay claim to better handling and understanding the Hellenic tradition, modern Greeks or West Europeans? Along with defending their Orthodox Christian tradition, many Greeks vociferously insisted on the superiority of their historical continuity with Greek Antiquity, making them the obvious bearers of the diachronic Greek experience. They were willing to enter into conflicts with West Europeans trying to usurp their legitimate Greek heritage. This is particularly important in our context, because it reveals not only a sense of Greek continuity but also a Greek identity thoroughly compatible with that of Christian Orthodoxy — a positive form of correlation that stuck throughout most of the Ottoman period. By contrast, West Europeans had their own slant on the issue of the rightful heir to Greek Antiquity. Desiderius Erasmus (1465/69 – 1536), in his 1528 book De recta Latini Graecique sermonis pronunciatione, argued that the ancient Greek language differed in pronunciation from Byzantine and modern Greek. His suggestions (implying broader discontinuity between ancient and modern Greeks) found academic supporters like Théodore de Bèze (1519 – 1605), and opponents like Johannes Reuchlin

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(1455 – 1522), in Western Europe. Not surprisingly, most Greek scholars reacted negatively to Erasmus’s imposition of his own system of Greek pronunciation on their language. Frangiskos Portos, an eminent professor of Greek in Geneva (1561 – 81) was the first to react,69 followed by Anastasios Michael Nausios (d. 1725),70 Alexander Helladius,71 and Konstantinos Oikonomos (1780 – 1857),72 to mention a few. This impassioned debate continues unabated, if somewhat softened, up to the present. The Greeks under Ottoman rule tried mightily to refute this novel theory of discontinuity, both as Greeks and as Orthodox. They were staunch proponents of the uninterrupted lived and spoken Greek language, not only in everyday communication but also in Christian worship. In their view, Western scholars had overstepped their boundaries, requiring Greeks to constantly defend their common Hellenic and Orthodox Christian past. The language issue was to infiltrate the very soul of Greek society, erupting in significant socio-cultural conflicts in the modern Greek state. In order to establish their closer connection with antiquity, many Greeks used an antiquated form of language that the wider Greek public of the Ottoman era found incomprehensible. Some Greeks operated in a vernacular dialect, whereas others, like Adamantios Koraïs, honed a hybrid middle language with elements from both. Needless to say, the church was mostly in favor of the antiquated language, because its major texts — scriptural, liturgical, and patristic — were written in such a tongue. It only deigned to offer some sermons and popular religious literature in the vernacular, mainly to be understood by the mainstream of believers. The church position was that it “equated” knowledge and use of ancient Greek language with being a good Christian. For this reason, the cleric Methodios Anthrakitis (1660 – before 1749), who was condemned in 1723 by the Patriarchal Synod for teaching Western philosophical systems, was additionally criticized for his inadequacy “in the discourse of the Hellenes,” namely in the correct and elegant use of the ancient Greek language, to which the church firmly adhered.73 The church also condemned any, mostly Protestant-motivated, attempts to translate the Bible (especially the New Testament) into vernacular Greek, such as those by Maximos Kallioupolitis (1638), Serapheim of Mytilene (1703), and the Halle Pietists (1710). The church always insisted on using the original text. Its reaction was sparked by two concerns: first, that nonOrthodox ideas would gain access to the Orthodox world through such translation efforts; and second, that the “sanctity” of the Bible, the most important Christian book, would be compromised. The central role of

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the ancient Greek language in the Bible was further considered a special “right” bestowed on the Orthodox Greeks. This put the church on its guard against any number of challenges emanating from Western Europe. But these were not the only forms of positive correlation between Hellenism and Christianity during the Ottoman period. The church also took up the gauntlet in the domain of science. Challenged by radical scientific developments in Western Europe (related to ancient Greek science), the church set out to formulate its own brand of integrating science into the school curricula. It helped the church that, from the latter half of the seventeenth century onward, Neo-Aristotelianism had been introduced in the schools. Initiated by the Italian Cesare Cremonini (1550 – 1631), this particular system was propagated in the Greek areas by the philosopher Theophilos Corydalleus (1570 – 1646), who became also director at the Patriarchal Academy of Constantinople. Characteristically, Neo-Aristotelianism was based on an independent interpretation of Aristotle’s works without considering the church’s doctrines and objectives. Although it suspected some of Colydalleus’s ideas of deviating from Orthodox doctrine, the church sanctioned his Neo-Aristotelian system, making it a fixture in the Greek schools for years to come. By the eighteenth century, it had become a hindrance to introducing new scientific knowledge from Western Europe. This is why the Greek bearers of Enlightenment ideas criticized it, and why scores of scholars entered into debates about the validity of Neo-Aristotelianism and its place alongside Christian doctrine. Some pointed to the system’s apparent disagreement with main Christian ideas; others bolstered it with specific arguments, like the notion of “double truth” (one based on the Bible and another one separately on Aristotle).74 The church would have no truck with dissent and came down in favor of its old standby, the selective appropriation of Hellenism; hence, Neo-Aristotelian science was allowed in the classroom in order to hinder the intrusion of modern scientific ideas from Western Europe. At the individual level, there were many cases of learned Orthodox churchmen who chose to meld their classical training with their fidelity to Orthodox Christianity. They were also involved at the time in the teaching and dissemination of works by ancient Greek authors, which they did not perceive as running counter to their Orthodox convictions. One such personality was a Greek hierarch from Corfu, Eugenios Voulgaris (1716 – 1806), who led a prestigious archbishopric career in Russia and left a strong legacy in the Greek and Russian worlds of his era. Truly a polymath, he was particularly adept at and keen on classical literature (Greek

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and Latin alike), although he personally used a stiff Greek influenced by the ancient Attic style that drew criticism during the Neo-Hellenic Enlightenment. His voluminous output overflowed with references to classical literature, and he was also a talented composer of odes and epigrams in ancient meter and elegant diction. Among other things, he edited the works of the lyric poet Anacreon (sixth century BCE) in Greek and Russian (St. Petersburg 1794) and translated the Georgics and the Aeniad of Virgil (70 – 19 BCE) from Latin into Attic Greek using poetic meter (St. Petersburg 1786 and 1791/2). Although more a testimony to Voulgaris’s erudition than to his pedagogy, these works exercised a wide influence in Russian education, especially in the development of classical studies. Voulgaris also translated from Latin into Greek, and in 1804 published a book by Angelo Maria Quirini (1680 – 1755) on the antiquities to be found in his homeland of Corfu.75 Although the Russian Orthodox Synod criticized him for dealing with and publishing “pagan stuff,”76 he enjoyed the support of Empress Catherine II (1762 – 96) and the respect of other leading Russians, including Grigorii A. Potemkin (1739 – 91), for his tireless endeavors on classical intellectual terrain. In all probability, the Russian Church’s reservations about the revival of classical studies coincided with those of the Patriarchate of Constantinople, both fearing a pagan reawakening. Interestingly enough, Voulgaris wed his intellect to his Orthodox faith and convictions, which remained unshaken throughout his life, and obviously saw no contradiction between Hellenism and Christianity. At the same time, as an Orthodox Christian he was not ready to accept (and, in fact, sharply criticized) certain philosophical ideas from ancient Greece, such as those about the eternity of the world.77 A thread of continuity in such a Christian appropriation of the Hellenic tradition ran through Byzantine and post-Byzantine times, challenged solely by the bearers of the Neo-Hellenic Enlightenment under Western influence, who tried to view the Hellenic tradition on its own terms, irrespective of the church’s priorities. We can observe this phenomenon in the evolution of the historical chronicles circulating during the Ottoman period. Initially, they were based on Christian assumptions and were detrimental to Hellenic consciousness. As in Byzantium, they had Christian underpinnings, conceiving history as the manifestation of God’s action in the world and having an eschatological orientation (related to the Second Coming of Christ). Their authors’ aim in shaping the view of the past was to underscore moral precepts and make the people more God-fearing.

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These histories of humankind took many forms, for example the Βιβλίον ἱστορικόν (Historical Book) of Pseudo-Dorotheus (twenty-four editions between 1631 and 1818). Its main axis was Biblical Jewish history liberally laced with events from the time of Alexander the Great. It touched on ancient Greek history but only in its Hellenistic period and in close relation to the Jewish world. Another phase of interest in the chronicle was the Roman Empire, its Christianization, fall, and “continuation” into the Ottoman Empire. In other words, ancient Greek history was poorly represented and played only a “bit part” in this particular Christian narrative. Nektarios, patriarch of Jerusalem (1661 – 69), followed a similar didactic model in his 1677 multivolume work, Ἐπιτομὴ τῆς ἱεροκοσμικῆς ἱστορίας (An Outline of Religious and Secular History). But the monk Konstantinos-Kaisarios Dapontes (ca. 1713 – 84) followed a different model in his Καθρέπτης γυναικῶν (Mirror of Women), published in 1766, relying not only on Biblical accounts but drawing also from ancient Greek history and mythology to convey his moral messages. An important turn in the historical consciousness of modern Greeks and their stronger connection with antiquity was the 1750 publication of Charles Rollin’s sixteen-volume Histoire Ancienne in Greek by Alexandros Kangellarios. This process was further expanded during the Neo-Hellenic Enlightenment.78 It is interesting to take a close look at the nuanced way that a popular Orthodox monk, Kosmas the Aetolian (1714 – 79), related Hellenism to Christianity from his pulpit. He would address his audiences, “I learned that by the grace of our Lord and God, Jesus Christ, you are not Hellenes, impious, heretics and atheists, but you are pious and believing Orthodox Christians, baptized in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.”79 By the term “Hellenes” he meant pagans, an absolute taboo, for he was convinced that the Orthodox Christian faith was the truest in the entire world.80 Yet, at the same time, Kosmas greatly valued Greek language and education, even urging his flock to establish new Greek schools for the education of the youth. He told them that learning Greek was necessary for understanding the precepts of the church and that education in Greek letters would illuminate the pupils’ minds. He admonished his Christian followers to speak only Greek and to instruct their children to learn the ancient language, because “our church is in Greek.”81 A true Greek Orthodox, Kosmas spoke derisively of Emperor Julian and his rise to power. He contended that Julian’s love of paganism was part of an antiChristian agreement made with a Jewish magician so that he could become emperor. Once on the throne, Julian enacted the Jew’s murderous

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Fig. 5.1. Aristotle and Plato depicted side by side in the narthex of the Katholikon in the Monastery of Zoodochos Pigi or Golas (Taygetos/Lakonia). This wall painting dates to 1632. From the surviving cases of ancient Greek sages painted in churches, this is the only known example of these two most eminent Greek philosophers depicted in this way (from Linos G. Benakis, Μεταβυζαντινὴ φιλοσοφία, Athens: Parousia, 2001).

and superstitious plots against Christianity.82 As already seen in chapter 2, Kosmas formulated a virulent anti-Jewish critique at that time. An additional, striking visual synthesis of Hellenism and Christianity in post-Byzantine times can be found in iconography, not only in Greece but throughout the Balkan area. There, one sees paintings in monastery complexes and churches (usually in the narthex) that depict ancient Greek sages and figures, though without a halo in order to distinguish them from the saints. The paintings, dating from the early sixteenth century onward, reside in various places, such as in the monasteries of Megisti Lavra and Iviron (Athos), Zoodochos Pigi or Golas (Lakonia)

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(see fig. 5.1), Philanthropinon (Ioannina), and Vellas (Epirus), as well as in the churches of Prophet Elias (Siatista), Agios Nikolaos (Tsaritsani), and Agios Georgios Negadon (Zagoria). The painted figures include Homer, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Thucydides, Galen, Plutarch, Sibylla, Philo of Alexandria, Apollonius of Tyana, and several others, in different combinations and groups. Inscriptions on scrolls held by some of those depicted explain why they are there. The whole phenomenon certainly had its roots in Byzantium and aligns with the long tradition of “Christian Hellenism” — specifically, in the selective appropriation of certain ancient Greek sages (since the time of the Christian Apologists) who “foresaw” and “prepared” for the coming of Jesus Christ. It is characteristic for such figures to be depicted in conjunction with the “tree of Jesse” (Isa. 11, 1), interpreted in Christianity as a prediction of Jesus’s coming to the world.83 The fact that this iconographic tradition found its way into a manual for iconographers, prepared by the hieromonk Dionysios of Fourna (ca. 1670 – after 1744) between 1730 and 1734 on Mount Athos, is indicative of the cultural-religious bridge inherent in this tradition. Dionysios lists many “wise men of the Greeks,” and offers instructions on how to paint them and with what specific inscriptions “concerning the form of the Incarnation of Christ” and their place in the “tree of Jesse.”84 Further, the forging of a common Greek and Orthodox Christian identity gained enormous momentum during the Greek War of Independence. Among the many Greeks who played a vital role was the general Theodoros Kolokotronis (1770 – 1843). In participating in warfare and envisaging Greece’s liberation, he saw no conflict between the two traditions and cultures. Indeed, the war represented a struggle to liberate Greece (in ethnic-national terms) and Christianity (in religious terms) from Ottoman hegemony. In a later speech on the hill of Pnyx (October 7, 1838) to the students of the First Gymnasium of Athens, he revealed his own synthetic view of the long Greek history. Despite discontinuities in the religious evolution of Greece, he considered the passing from the false paganism to the truth of Christianity as quite normal and was fully convinced that Hellenism and Christianity constituted an integral and inseparable whole.85 To conclude, under Ottoman rule the great majority of Greeks, aside from certain bearers of Enlightenment ideas, saw little, if any, contradiction between the Hellenic and Orthodox Christian models of identity. Under the auspices of the church, they had grown accustomed to continue the older

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tradition of selective appropriation and synthesis. When, as late as 1797, Sergios Makraios thus sought, both as a Greek and an Orthodox Christian, to repudiate the Copernican worldview as a dangerous Western innovation, he did so by calling on “Hellenic arms,” namely an outdated Aristotelian cosmology solidly grounded in the Orthodox anti-Western tradition.86 In addition, the learned priest Konstantinos Oikonomos made reference in 1811 to the Church Fathers and their familiarization with classical authors and learning as a perennial model to be imitated. One of the greatest benefactions of the church, he continued, was the preservation of the Greek language through the study of the Bible.87 Finally, in the aforementioned encyclical of March 1819 against the innovations introduced by the Greek bearers of Enlightenment ideas, Patriarch Gregory V masterfully emphasized the particular synthesis of Hellenism and Christianity supported by the church and its educational tradition: the main aim was to make the students “Christians Hellenized in speech and Greeks Christianized in beliefs, morals and manners.”88

The Modern Period (1830 to the Present) The modern period is, in many respects, central to the ideas in this chapter — selection, transformation, and synthesis. Generally speaking, it coincided with — and advanced — a shift in the age-old relations between Hellenism and Christianity. In the modern Greek state, the Orthodox Church, despite early difficulties, managed to persist and began to play a significant role in the Greek socio-political system. This was especially the case after the Constitution of 1844, according to which the next king of Greece after Otto had to be an Orthodox Christian. Thus, the bond between church and state, as well as between Hellenicity/Greekness and Orthodoxy, gradually became stronger. Yet from the very beginning of the modern Greek state there was also a widespread Hellenic revival, reflecting the fresh breeze of Greece’s newfound independence and under the spell of a wave of Western worship of antiquity. This revival did not aim at reestablishing Hellenic religion per se but did focus on many other aspects of ancient Greece. Nevertheless, the Hellenic religious past was unearthed and grew omnipresent, either openly or in disguise. A number of ancient Greek temples and sanctuaries ceased functioning as Christian churches. The last Christian service to be held in the temple of Theseion welcomed the arrival of King Otto in

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Athens in May 1833.89 These sacred buildings were not returning to their ancient uses, of course. The Theseion thus housed the first Archaeological Museum of Greece and was later recognized as an ancient monument, a fact that allowed archaeological research to take place. Such monuments also took on a practical function taking advantage of archaeological landmarks as attractive public meeting places. In any event, the trend marked a process of re-Hellenization. Thus, during the last two centuries, classical antiquities and archaeological research became instrumental in forging modern Greece and Greek national imagination.90 Although some tensions arose, the Orthodox Christian establishment accepted the redistribution of worship space with reasonable equanimity. The major dilemma that the new Greek state faced was how to synthesize and integrate the various historical, cultural, and religious traditions of Greece — which had accumulated and been hotly contested over the centuries — into a single whole. This goal of synthesis presumably offered a stable ideological basis on which the new state might function. Given that the Greek state endorsed the idea of national and cultural homogeneity, a synthesis of Hellenism and Christianity seemed justified — if it could be done. Hopeful results began to appear in the 1850s, a decade of considerable persecution of dissidents of varied provenance (from Theophilos Kairis to Jonas King). The adjective “Helleno-Christian” first appeared in 1852, coined by historian Spyridon Zambelios (1815 – 81),91 who enabled a reappraisal of Byzantium by Hellenizing it and thus downplaying its Roman side. He also supported the ultimate historical synthesis between Hellenism and Christianity in the minds of the Greeks.92 This term was to play a crucial role in the formation of modern Greek ideology. This synthesis became a national issue — coloring numerous discussions weighing its pros and cons, but generally favoring its advantages,93 and also encouraging the development of scholarly disciplines supporting the historical and cultural continuity of the Greeks, like history, folklore studies, and linguistics.94 The rising Greek nationalism,95 with its bedrock in both church and state, was inextricably comingled with the synthesis of Hellenism and Orthodox Christianity (e.g., the combined celebration of the anniversary of the Greek War of Independence with the feast of the Annunciation of the Virgin Mary on March 25, first instituted in 1838). No doubt, the Helleno-Christian synthesis exhibited strong syncretist features, yet this did not prove problematic because it became part of a larger nationalist assertion of cultural continuity and authenticity.96 All this went hand in hand with a gradual reevaluation of Byzantium in

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the modern Greek state, which culminated in the founding of the first chair of Byzantine history at the University of Athens in 1924.97 Furthermore, the founding (first in 1884 and formally in 1914) and further development of the Byzantine and Christian Museum in Athens attest to the systematic attempts to demonstrate Greek historical and religious continuity through archaeological findings and surviving historical monuments.98 Although on a somewhat different bent, the same holds true for the Museum of Byzantine Culture of Thessalonica, opened in 1994.99 This synthesis was also prompted by the appearance of Western theories on the historical continuity (or lack thereof) of the Greeks in the Middle Ages. The most notorious theorist was Jakob Philipp Fallmerayer (1790 – 1861), whose name — rather exaggeratedly — became synonymous with Greek hatred in the popular Greek discourse (and still is today).100 In 1830, he published the controversial book Geschichte der Halbinsel Morea während des Mittelalters, in which he claimed that the Greek race had been extinguished from Europe. He stated that, because Greeks had interbred with Slavs in the Middle Ages, there was not a single drop of blood of truly Greek origin in the veins of modern Greeks. Outraged protest shot back not only from the Greek side but also from Philhellenic circles in Western Europe, demanding that Fallmerayer retract his premise. Various political and ideological circles later instrumentalized his theory for diverse objectives, although it has been largely abandoned today within academia. Yet the second half of the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth centuries in Greece were occupied by attempts to refute such theories and prove the racial-cultural continuity of the Greeks throughout their history, thus giving rise to Greek historicism.101 But how was it possible to document Greek history — from antiquity through Byzantium and up to the modern Greek state — presenting it as an uninterrupted unity, despite changes and discontinuities in certain domains? The most eminent of these attempts came from historian Konstantinos Paparrigopoulos (1815 – 91), who came to be known as the “national historian” of Greece. He composed a classic five-volume history of the Greek nation (1860 – 74; 2d ed. 1885 – 87), developing a rational historical scheme to integrate the various phases of Greek history into a single whole. His recounting of religious history regarded the passage from the pagan world to Christian Byzantium as normal and beneficial to the Greek nation; thus, the creation of “Christian Hellenism” was quite natural and by no means aberrant.102 Paparrigopoulos chose to demonstrate continuities and related integrative

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processes, not conflicts and concomitant bifurcations in Greek historical consciousness. Modern Greece had a decidedly Christian character; the socio-political challenges of the day demanded a single, united, and strong country and a unified national ideology that could address them effectively. Such an ideology was particularly solidified through a series of symbolic events in the years 1871 and 1872, marking the fiftieth anniversary of the beginning of the War of Independence. These included the transportation from Odessa and the interment in Athens of the remains of Patriarch Gregory V in 1871, who was hailed as an ethnomartyr. This took place in a magnificent ceremony attended by huge crowds, as well as by King George I and Queen Olga. In 1872, a statue of Gregory V was also unveiled outside the main neoclassical building of the University of Athens, joining one of the revolutionary Rigas Velestinlis — another statue, of the philologist Adamantios Koraïs, was erected later in 1875. The symbolic coexistence of these three eminent personalities of recent Greek history, who were not in agreement with one another as to the orientation of the modern Greek state, should be undoubtedly interpreted as an act of national integration intended to overcome previous differences and tensions and to create a unified national ideology. The same ideal was also supported by other means, such as by numerous clubs and voluntary associations (drama clubs, reading societies, etc.) that proliferated in the country from the 1870s onward, as well as by print media, literature, visual arts, theater, and music.103 Politics has long played a crucial role in modern Greek discourse; naturally, establishing or refuting the historical continuity of Hellenism and (Orthodox) Christianity became a political issue, especially in the nineteenth century in the context of Greek nationalism and irredentism. This pertained, above all, to Orthodox Romeic communities living in Asia Minor and Pontus, who expected to be incorporated into a greater Greece. Up to 1922, these communities were strongly influenced by a wave of Hellenization, supported by the educational apparatus of the Greek state, and conceived in Greek national terms. This wave included, among other things, the phenomenon of archaization of names.104 Amid critical voices and objections, the Helleno-Christian discourse continued to be widely and officially propagated. Youth moral and spiritual education was thus often based on the foundations of the “Helleno-Christian Civilization” (art. 16 of the 1952 Greek Constitution). Despite necessary adjustments

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and modifications, this discourse still remains today a backbone of modern Greek national ideology and self-understanding, particularly at an official level, both for internal use and consumption abroad. It is also a matter of national glory to show Greece’s unique blend of Hellenic spirit with Christian heritage — a sine qua non for its place as a world seat of civilization. The indissolubility of Hellenism and (Orthodox) Christianity is also regarded as a condition for the future survival of the Greeks. The ongoing debate relates to the particular structure of Greek society, as manifested in strong church-state relations and other cultural matters. Even those politicians who criticize the church and demand a loosening of church-state relations seldom dispute the undeniable historical coupling of Hellenism and (Orthodox) Christianity. Instead, they find this linkage a very useful form of symbolic capital, as well as an indispensable asset in foreign policy (e.g., in holding together Greek diasporic communities around the globe and keeping historical sacred places abroad under Greek control, like the sixth-century Monastery of Saint Catherine in Sinai, Egypt, or the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate of Jerusalem). This synthesis also helped deal with crises in difficult historical moments. As Prime Minister Konstantinos Karamanlis (1907 – 98) said in 1982: “Orthodoxy by enriching the shining cultural tradition of classical antiquity constituted with it the strong spiritual and ethical foundations of Hellenism. The substance which holds it together, its giver of light; and also the source of its strength . . . For this reason the concepts of Hellenism and Orthodoxy have been interwoven inseparably in the consciousness of the nation.”105 Contemporary political discourse does not aim to revive Hellenic religion, which has become largely a “neutral” backdrop, a set piece from the Greek past without any normative consequences. Despite the wide internal-external promotion of ancient Greek civilization in all its manifestations, modern Greece thus makes a clear distinction in matters of religion. The modern Greek state has a predominantly Christian character, and this is taken for granted, even while activists seek to somewhat neutralize the effects of religion. Orthodox Christianity is considered to have ideally absorbed the Hellenic religion, resulting in an impressive new unit that has decisively transformed the Greek religious scene across history. So what is the “official scoop” on modern Greek religion? The Feast of the Three Hierarchs (Basil of Caesarea, Gregory of Nazianzus, and John Chrysostom), celebrated every year on January 30, provides a good indication. It is not only a shared religious feast day for all three, first inaugurated in the eleventh century by John Mauropous in the wake of disputes

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Fig. 5.2. A ritual commemorating the feast of the Three Hierarchs as perennial protectors of Greek Christian education. The photo shows primary school pupils on the island of Siphnos carrying an icon of the Three Hierarchs from the church of Saint John Chrysostom (on the left) back to their school building. Earlier that day, the icon, which always remains in the school, had been brought to the church by older gymnasium and lyceum students. Courtesy of Katerina Seraïdari.

about their ranking; instituted as a “school holiday” in the nineteenth century by the state, it also serves as an official model for Helleno-Christian synthesis and celebrates the educational ideals of the country (see fig. 5.2). What the three Church Fathers accomplished in the fourth century is viewed today as a prototype for Helleno-Christian relations, to which modern Greek education should subscribe. They are generously recognized as protectors of Greek education and the forebears of “HellenoChristian Civilization.” The institution of this feast as a national one, however, was underscored by considerable debates. In the end, though, many historical incongruities were ironed out and an integrated, acceptable image of the Three Hierarchs appeared.106 Whether the modern Greek educational system as a whole subscribes in fact to the resulting synthesis is, of course, another matter.

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Because politics is usually about power, it is not surprising that some political figures exploited the official discourse on Hellenism and Christianity during several phases of modern Greek history. We see this in two dictatorships during the twentieth century. The first, led by Ioannis Metaxas (1871 – 1941), appropriated the two cultures to create a “Third Hellenic Civilization” that would purportedly merge Greek Antiquity with Byzantium and lead to a more perfect synthesis.107 Metaxas’s attempt distorted the Greek past for the ideological needs of his regime. He selected certain elements from Greek history (e.g., the Spartan model of education, the powerful Byzantine state) and rejected those considered unsuitable to his purposes (e.g., the Athenian democracy). Generally, Metaxas regarded Christianity as a crucial element in Greek historical unity and continuity, as well as a guarantee of its future. During the military regime of the Colonels, another form of ideology emerged, widely propagated by the slogan “Greece of the Hellenes and Christians,” and channeled toward putting a halt to Greece’s Communist infiltration, ongoing secularism, and abandonment of traditional values.108 The quick fall of these regimes brought collateral damage to Helleno-Christian ideology, badly battered (especially by the Colonels’ junta). Despite these negative sides, the Helleno-Christian concept still rebounded to remain a basic, if somewhat abstract, tenet of the modern Greek national narrative. Further socio-political changes, such as the radical events in the former Eastern Bloc (1989 – 91), gave additional impetus to strengthening the ideals of Hellenism and Orthodox Christianity and their official propagation. The aim was to approach more effectively those Eastern and South Eastern European countries that had historically been strong Orthodox footholds. In close connection with the political discourse, the Orthodox Church’s discourse appealed to nationalistic aspirations and the irredentist plans of the state while also raising voices of dissent in various Orthodox circles opposing the church’s growing nationalization. This development led to considerable tension between the Greek Church (allied with the Athens government) and the Patriarchate of Constantinople. The latter was still in favor of the traditional Byzantine ecumenical vision and subscribed to a broader notion of a non-national Hellenism, in contrast to the narrowly defined national Hellenism recognized by the modern Greek state. The Orthodox Church of Greece wholeheartedly supported the Greek cause and had no other option than to integrate Hellenism in exclusive national

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terms into its official thinking — a course that it still follows today — and to promote a specific appropriation of the Hellenic tradition geared to Orthodox Christian criteria. Church discourse, based as it was on the alleged two thousand years of upholding the unbreakable spiritual bond between Hellenism and Christianity, often outstripped political debate. The church equated the selective absorption of Hellenism into Christianity as a perfect and ideal transformation. As Damaskinos, archbishop of Athens and All Greece (1941–49), wrote following World War II: “The harmonious synthesis and cooperation of Hellenism and Christianity, from which Greco-Christian civilization derived, is due to the deep religiousness of the Greek soul and the theological predisposition of philosophical thought . . . The innate religiousness of the Greek soul materialized in the religion of Jesus Christ . . . And the Christian religion in its old form, which Orthodoxy maintains, is a factor in the new flourish of Greek civilization, while the Greek banner with the Cross expresses the uniform synthesis of Greco-Christian reality.”109 The second millennium jubilee for the birth of Jesus Christ was seen as a further opportunity to celebrate the epoch-making encounter between Orthodox Christianity (first and foremost) and Hellenism. Quite frankly, the church sanguinely regards Hellenism without Orthodoxy as truncated, anemic, shallow, alienated, and morbid. Hellenism in isolation lacks the genuine elements of its own self-consciousness, treasures that only Orthodoxy can bestow. Their mutual interpenetration remains a salient fact of history.110 But Orthodoxy without “Christian Hellenism,” a basic element of authentic church tradition since the fourth century, would also be amiss. Moments of conflict (false judgments and socio-historical circumstances alike) have flared often but failed to destroy the marvelous synthesis that unites and influences the two.111 The earlier mentioned “Little Cathedral” in Athens, in which various ancient spolia have been incorporated, is hailed as the foremost symbol of the historical synthesis between Hellenism and Christianity.112 On the whole, the church has remained adamant in promoting a unified view of Greece’s religious and cultural history — a fact that explains its recent dissatisfaction with the rise of Neopagan thought and action. In particular, the church has been eager to demonstrate its beneficial role in Greek history and in the preservation of Greek education and culture. It maintains, for example, that without church tradition and ritual practice the Greek language would not have been “saved” from oblivion. The church has historically schooled its followers in the basics of ancient

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Greek language and encouraged even deeper understanding. The New Testament was written in Koine Greek, and all basic ecclesiastical texts, from decisions of the councils to texts of the Church Fathers, appeared in Byzantine Greek. No wonder the church deems it necessary for modern Greeks to be familiar with this long linguistic tradition. This is why the church fought the nineteenth-century attempts to vernacularize its texts (witness the reaction to various translations of the Bible into modern Greek, aided by the British and American Bible societies).113 The church also initially condemned a new translation of the New Testament undertaken by six Orthodox professors of theology from the universities of Athens and Thessalonica in 1986. Even when it allowed exceptions (e.g., a 2005/6 pilot program in which the Sunday Gospel was read aloud in churches in both the original and translation), the church remained adamant in its preference for the “real thing” (i.e., original ancient Greek). Needless to say, during the long combat between language reformers and conservatives in Greece the church always took the conservative side. It further resisted modern reform efforts to simplify Greek language and classical learning. The translation of ancient Greek authors into vernacular Greek for schoolbooks did not please the church, nor did the replacement of the polytonic orthographic variant and its diacritical marks with a monotonic, simplified punctuation system, official since 1982. The clergy regarded these measures as an insidious way of separating Greek students from the diachronic Greek linguistic tradition and their cultural wellspring, including the rich ecclesiastical heritage. The church appealed to the government, albeit unsuccessfully, to overturn earlier linguistic reforms and reintroduce the polytonic system.114 Not surprisingly, the historical synthesis of Hellenism and (Orthodox) Christianity in a Greek-dominated climate has become a source of national pride that the state and church have turned to their advantage, both internally and abroad. The opinion of the eminent Russian theologian, Georges Florovsky (1893 – 1979), underlined the historical uniqueness and perennial significance of this achievement: “Russian theology . . . must pass through the austere schooling of Christian Hellenism. Hellenism, so to speak, assumed a perpetual character in the Church; it has incorporated itself in the very fabric of the Church as the eternal category of Christian existence . . . We are dealing with Christian antiquity, with the Hellenism of dogma, of the liturgy, of the icon . . . Hellenism is something more than a passing stage in the Church . . . Theology cannot possibly be catholic except within Hellenism.”115

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Florovsky made clear that “Christian Hellenism” should not be understood in modern Greek national or nationalistic terms. Nevertheless, such views are music to modern Greek Orthodox ears because they resonate with the enormous significance of Helleno-Christian synthesis. Greek Orthodoxy is admittedly a bit conceited, seeing itself as historically constant and unique in a way that other Orthodox Churches have not been. As Archbishop Serapheim once noted, although Orthodoxy is ecumenical, it is undisputable that Greek Orthodoxy was and still is the “backbone” of all other Orthodoxies.116 Greek Orthodoxy might not consider itself so unique and exceptional were it not for the wide interest of other Orthodox Churches in classical learning and the Greek patristic synthesis. This was happening in Russia until the Bolsheviks, buoyed by their victory in 1917, prohibited classical teaching in the schools as elitist. After the breakup of Soviet Communism in 1991, the Orthodox Church of Russia quickly reasserted its interest in teaching ancient classical languages and culture in its schools and seminaries. This attitude recalls a long tradition of Russian classical scholarship. Especially after the Fall of Constantinople, Greek scholars (e.g., the brothers Sophronios and Ioannikios Leichudis of the late seventeenth century) kept coming to Russia and disseminating Greek culture.117 This happened despite persisting tensions between Russian and ByzantineGreek Orthodoxy over which branch holds the leading role in the greater Orthodox world. Back in Greece, a prickly question remains: how well has the Orthodox Church managed to accommodate the broad Hellenic revival initiated by the modern Greek state, which clearly defines Greece’s profile today? Lingering in the Hellenic revival are practices and ideas that the church condemned in previous eras as pagan and undermining. How do tensions that have unsettled Hellenic-oriented and Orthodox Greeks ever since the nineteenth century get resolved? It is remarkable that the church has succeeded so far in readjusting to Hellenic tradition in many domains, even if it has distanced itself from its own past. One such specific domain is the Greek stage. Christianity has long been skeptical of theater and performance since Byzantine times, considering the art of acting a pagan remnant and morally dangerous. This did not prevent a new Christian theatrical tradition from flourishing, partially under Western influence, in the Ottoman period.118 Fast-forward to modern Greece, where the assessment of the ancient Greek theatrical tradition changed radically and gained systematic support for its upgrade

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and revival. The National Theater of Greece was thus founded in Athens in 1880 (and in a new form in 1932). Drama performances nowadays attract international attention, and famous ancient theaters have been refurbished for such purposes (e.g., the first modern performance at Epidaurus in 1938 and the establishment of the Classical Drama Festival there in 1954).119 All these changes forced the church to reevaluate its earlier negative view of the ancient theatrical tradition. In fact, Orthodox theologians got so “with it” as to suggest that the Professional Theatrical School in Athens accept a Christian saint as its patron, one who could plausibly have been associated with the theater in antiquity.120 This was one of the friendlier bridges suggested to unite the two camps. Ever practical, and often reasonable, the church realized the absurdity of reacting against such an ancient and rich theatrical tradition, especially one of which modern Greeks are so proud. By incorporating the theatrical tradition in its vision of Helleno-Christianity and emphasizing its positive effects, the church recognized the value of theater in the moral and spiritual edification of the people. Some of those in the theatrical domain were less willing to embrace the new Christian tolerance, given the previous negative Christian stance toward the medium of theater,121 evidenced, for example, by John Chrysostom’s sharp critique.122 The church did, indeed, come up with the name of a patron saint for actors and artists, the mime Porphyrios, who had refused to ridicule Christianity in a scene that he was to perform, and died as a martyr. There is now a special church service and name day dedicated to him in the Orthodox calendar.123 Such rearrangements did not signify the end of all conflicts separating the cultures of Hellenism and Christianity, as another example shows. In 2004, the metropolitan of Serres, a town in northern Greece, enlisted the aid of the mayor to bar an outdoor performance — theatrical pieces by Aristophanes, including Plutus (Wealth) — directly outside the Byzantine church of Saint Nicholas. The ruling did not apply to concerts because the church was mainly suspicious of the lewd content and lax morals of Aristophanes’s theatrical pieces, which might scandalize Orthodox believers. The church allowed that such performances could take place elsewhere, prompting invective from the persons involved. Archbishop Christodoulos intervened and backed the decision of the political and religious authorities in Serres. He stated that the church has nothing against theater, as long as it is performed in appropriate places. The church does not even condemn Aristophanes, whose works, despite his bold language, were saved from oblivion and destruction by Byzantine copyists. Aristophanes,

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the archbishop continued, is thus a special case to be treated cautiously. Performances of his comedies certainly do not fit in the sacred space of a church but can take place elsewhere.124 This incident makes obvious that the church’s selective appropriation of Hellenic tradition, regardless of its professed greater openness today, is hardly unconditional and without limits. Another rearrangement of church policy toward the Hellenic tradition pertains to its response to the modern Olympic Games, especially the ones organized in Athens in 2004. Again, the church recognized the absurdity of condemning an event that had been of utmost national importance to all Greeks, including those in the diaspora. Yet what to do about pagan ceremonial elements with which the Olympic Games had long been associated? The church was able to resolve the difficulty by viewing these ceremonies not as a sign of adherence to Hellenic religion but as having a symbolic and decorative nature. Though some churchmen and Orthodox rigorists might have objected to “grotesque” pagan remnants, most modern Orthodox Greeks, including the official church, dismissed such concerns. After all, an eminent Orthodox theologian and professor of philosophy of religion at the University of Athens, Nikos A. Nissiotis (1925 – 86), served as a member of the International Olympic Committee and as president of the International Olympic Academy in Olympia. He had written various articles on the significance of the Olympic ideals and their relationship to religion (and specifically to Christianity, which was not judged to be antithetical).125 The church thus not only went along but actually took active part in the preparations for the Athens Olympic Games of 2004; it made clear, through the words of Archbishop Christodoulos, its own dedication to this national cause. He also connected the Olympic Games with the spirit of Christianity: “We experience the Olympic Games bathed in the light of the Gospel, which teaches brotherhood, peace and love between people regardless of their race or religion.”126 We have looked so far at various intellectual, political, and church discourses on the synthesis of Hellenism and (Orthodox) Christianity, propagated on an official public level and related to the close connection between church and state in Greece (see fig. 5.3). In addition, there are many independent voices and opinions involved in similar discourses. Some of these do not reflect a conflictual view of Greece’s religious and cultural history. For example, several scholars have paid systematic attention to the area of Byzantine philosophy to better understand how Christian writers

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Fig. 5.3. Funeral procession for Archbishop Christodoulos on January 31, 2008, attended by both the ecclesiastical and the political world of Greece. The state had announced a four-day national wake and the archbishop’s burial took place with state honors, a fact indicating the importance attached to the Greek Orthodox Church, its strong bonds with the state, and its role in defining modern Greek culture.

selectively appropriated Greek philosophy and combined it with their Christian worldview.127 Much more widespread in recent decades are the non-conflictual evaluations of Greece’s religious and cultural history by Orthodox theologians, clerics, and intellectuals,128 of which I will mention briefly only a few. John Zizioulas (b. 1931), metropolitan of Pergamon, agreed that conflict over a worldview marked the encounter between Hellenism and Christianity during the first three centuries, but that this finally led to a new historical reality and the most productive era of synthesis in the fourth century, which later acquired paradigmatic significance in the Orthodox world.129 Vlasios Pheidas (b. 1936), professor of church history, saw the overall dialectical relations between the two as gradual, eclectic, and reciprocal, resulting in the normal functioning of Hellenism within a Christian framework.130 According to Metropolitan Ierotheos Vlachos (b. 1945), it was through Christianity that the Greeks discovered the answers to their own insoluble questions and dilemmas.131 Finally, priest and professor of theology Georgios Metallinos (b. 1940) found the synthesis of Hellenism and Christianity reminiscent of the hypostatic union of the two natures in

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the person of Jesus Christ, in whom the divine nature (Christianity) held priority over the human nature (Hellenism) and transfigured it.132 The above opinions are usually based on a clear differentiation between Eastern Orthodox and Western Christianity, including their respective appropriations of the Hellenic tradition. Greek Orthodox theologians are also critical of the views of foreign scholars (e.g., the French classical scholar Jean-Pierre Vernant, 1914 – 2007) highlighting the differences or the antithesis between Hellenism and Christianity.133 This “gentler” kind of synthesis comes not only out of theoretical and historical arguments but can also be observed in other areas of modern Orthodox life. The paintings and icons of the esteemed hagiographer Fotis Kontoglous (1895 – 1965) unabashedly depicted ancient Greek sages, such as Pythagoras, Embedocles, Plato, and Plutarch. Kontoglous viewed them all as sincere seekers after the truth before Christ and partially enlightened by God’s grace in their quest. In this regard, Kontoglous continued the long hagiographical tradition of picturing philosophers in churches as forerunners of Christ’s revelation.134 The same motifs can be observed among other modern Greek hagiographers (e.g., in a painting by Ioannis Ch. Vranos depicting Plato, with his Academy in the background, as a seeker for Christ and the real truth). Yet it is sometimes hard to capture or predict how other Greek Orthodox thinkers will interpret the above synthesis model. Theologians like professor of New Testament Savas Agourides (1921 – 2009) have accepted the fruitful interaction between Hellenism and Christianity from the third to the ninth centuries, yet criticized the stagnation into which Orthodox Christianity fell afterward and its lack of innovative ideas and theological productivity.135 Several Orthodox clerics have also called the validity of a Helleno-Christian synthesis into doubt, because, historically, so many Christian thinkers sharply criticized paganism and the entire corpus of Hellenic tradition.136 Further, the synthesis model has come under attack from various political, social, intellectual, and artistic circles in modern Greece beyond the religious domain. The ideology of Helleno-Christianity, its problematic historical foundations, and its abuses in modern Greek history are still hotly contested topics.137 To close this chapter, it is imperative to make a few brief remarks about the Greek diaspora in modern times.138 This diaspora began after the Fall of Constantinople in 1453, continued into the Ottoman era, and took on further proportions in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries (e.g., the

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mass exodus of about four hundred thousand Greeks to the United States between 1897 and 1921). Although this diaspora is now quite diverse and involves many generations, local traditions, and processes of assimilation, it largely subscribes to the model of the synthesis of Hellenism and Christianity,139 one that numerous contemporary organizations and structures actively perpetuate. There is a reason explaining this. It was the church, primarily the Patriarchate of Constantinople from the Ottoman period onward, that cared for the Greek diaspora and organized its communities abroad, usually through local churches and appointed Orthodox clerics. In this context, the church disseminated its own view of the selective appropriation of Hellenism by Christianity and their concomitant synthesis. This remains the predominant, current view. Diaspora Greeks are proud of their image of themselves as descendants of the ancient Hellenes and, at the same time, as Orthodox Christians; and they normally see no basic contradiction between the two. The involvement of the Greek state in the affairs of the diaspora is a relatively late one (e.g., the foundation of the Council for Hellenes Abroad in 1996) and did not supersede the major role historically undertaken by the church. For our topic, it appears vital that the modern Greek state also supports, on its own terms, the synthesis model promoted by the church. It is thus perfectly understandable why the Greek diaspora still remains deeply influenced by this time-tested tradition.

6 Symbiosis, Mixture, Fusion Once the Bishop of Sozopolis [a city on the Black Sea] came to Kosti to try to prevent the Anastenaria from being celebrated. After putting on women’s clothes and covering his head with a silk kerchief he sat at a window and watched the Anastenarides dance on the fire. Afterwards, when a leader of the village asked him for his impressions, the bishop replied, “What can I say? Do whatever you want. I can’t tell you anything.” — story told by an elderly person from Kosti, a village in Eastern Thrace, 19381

A shared premise of today’s interdisciplinary research on religious phenomena is that religious life is extremely complex, multilayered, and varied. Yet religion as it is practiced is often, perhaps inadvertently, neglected in favor of attention to its official, institutional, or intellectual aspects. This is even more often the case when scholars examine Christianity, with its historically stable institutional structure and the importance attached to doctrinal issues, normative texts, and rigid prescriptions. Yet the level of religious practices and rituals under the wide umbrella of popular or unofficial religion is equally important. Social anthropological research on Greece in recent decades has begun to address the gap between general Orthodox theory and local practice, between “central” and “local” religion.2 This does not mean that antithesis necessarily exists between what Orthodox Greeks believe and how they practice their religion but rather that these parallel conditions are not identical. Yet both belief and practice are part of the same system of religious life and experience, forming an organic whole that cannot be studied separately. They represent two sides of the same coin and may offer a more comprehensive view of religious manifestations when seen in the entire context in which they occur.

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We have looked so far at the modes of interaction between Hellenism and Christianity that shaped the ongoing existence of both, on a large scale and in more subtle ways. This process did not occur between equal partners or on a level playing field. At the beginning, Christians and pagans engaged in a process of mutual interaction, living as they did under conditions of plurality in the Greco-Roman world. One could find Christians with polytheistic predilections or pagans with monotheistic leanings. Yet, after Christianity took hold in the fourth century, paganism was prohibited and entered gradual decline. This development made it incumbent on still-existing pagans, in order to hold to their core beliefs, to turn to various survival strategies. They often persisted in this self-defense no matter how hard the church hierarchy tried to combat them. As scholar of Late Antiquity James J. O’Donnell noted, “Christianity triumphed, but paganism survived.”3 Their parallel and often implicit or “cloaked” coexistence subsequently led to a degree of intermingling of elements from both traditions — and further, to their merging. Yet, in many cases, discernibly Hellenic elements stood out from Christian ones. At the same time, numerous Christians cheerfully adhered to certain pagan traditions without ever calling into question their strong convictions and identification with Christianity. Such phenomena did not prove problematic; rather they enabled people to cope with life’s adversities or twists of fate more easily, either individually or collectively. Such behavior of course alarmed church authorities seeking to establish a more unified corpus of beliefs and practices. Although such phenomena occurred in the intellectual domain as well, they are more observable in popular practices and rituals, a better example of their diachronic resilience in the face of official church anti-pagan rhetoric and measures. After all, paganism should not be seen exclusively as a rival to Christianity (which was essentially an official Christian perception). As scholar of the ancient world Glen W. Bowersock put it, “For the pagans, coexistence with another cult, however popular it might be, was always a real possibility.”4 This mode of interaction between Hellenism and Christianity — seen in terms of symbiosis, mixture, and fusion — is of a different sort than the mode of interaction discussed in the previous chapter. Attempts at a Hellenic-Christian selection, transformation, and synthesis took place systematically in different periods of Greek history and, in this sense, were “planned.” The category we look at in this chapter lacks systematization; it was more an organic blending of Hellenism and Christianity that sprang from the exigencies and experiences of the actors involved.

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For example, conversion to Christianity did not automatically eradicate a pagan sense of identity. Many such converts went on performing pagan rituals (either in a Christian framework or not), despite church and state prohibitions. Most important, the Hellenic tradition, far from being moribund, continued to permeate society and culture on many levels after their enforced Christianization, from education to popular literature. It exhibited a remarkable adaptability and durability. The surrounding culture resisted state rhetoric that proclaimed Hellenic religion nonexistent and skirted official penalties. Ancient Greek mythology kept popping up in Christian settings. As we know, some Christian writers gladly perpetuated myth and lore for their own purposes. Knowledge of the Hellenic past and its religion became a kind of hand-me-down article of clothing worn in Byzantium and later on. There was no effective way to avoid the coexistence of the old and the new. Strictly speaking, there is much talk about the end of the ancient Greek world. Although this is true in principle, the extended coexistence of Hellenism and Christianity, over a changing landscape of time and circumstance, forces us to understand this “end” in a nuanced manner. Hellenic tradition was not easily shattered. It retained its significance and omnipresence as a constant reminder of the elapsed glory of ancient times, including its religion. It became part of the diachronic collective memory of the Greek people that, although hardly uniform and consensual, resulted in a modern religious culture both Hellenic and Christian. Nobel laureate Greek poet George Seferis (1900 – 71) characteristically noted that, when attending the church service on Good Friday, he was not sure about the identity of the god who was being buried, namely whether he was Christ or Adonis. He was thus fully convinced that all traditions, both preChristian and Christian, survived in the diachronic Greek experience.5 The process of memory is a dynamic one, not only for emulating the past but also for conceiving the future and articulating a vital group identity. Connection to the past through inherited memories may happen either consciously or unconsciously, though it is hard to reconstruct precisely how that process takes place. Suffice it to say that the parallel yet distinctive components of Hellenism and Christianity are inseparable from any discussion of Greece’s religious and cultural history. Events on the symbiosis-to-fusion spectrum took place in the “real world.” Most actors involved had no reason to reflect on friction between Hellenism and Christianity, or how to correlate the two. They followed patterns of behavior based on their own cultural memories, readily inte-

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grating seemingly antithetical elements that might have defied “higher” intellects. It was only when the church or other external authorities intervened to impose control on the realm of religious practices that people resisted or rebelled. As we shall see, authoritarian measures have usually been to no avail. Why is that? One plausible explanation is that the church’s struggle against intellectual paganism was far more successful than its tussle with practical paganism. Aside from its intellectual dimensions, religion is foremost an experiential phenomenon, embedded in the lives of individuals and communities. Practicing religion implies a holistic participation in it, going well beyond an arid occupation with theory and religious ideas. Religious practices have a way of thriving in modified forms and new settings, regardless of the religious beliefs that once shared the limelight. Religious practices also often undergo a metamorphosis, becoming part of popular, local customs and traditions. It comes as no surprise then that the pagan heritage has enjoyed remarkable longevity, despite church efforts to stamp it out. Although the church has long castigated many beliefs and practices as borrowings that betrayed authentic religious truth, it has been known to look the other way on the grassroots level. People were allowed to “tailor” their idea of being religious following ingrained cultural patterns. Although official religion sometimes strove to adjust to its unofficial version, it was a stiff and uncomfortable fit. Local beliefs and practices showed themselves to be less rigid than official structures. They often cannily obeyed their own rules and logic, slipping out of the control of exasperated external authorities. Hoping to score some points, authorities went along with contradictions; this is what I mean by a somewhat organic mingling of elements. Many people and communities reserve the right of a “plurality” of religious options, whereas in the end the institutional authorities “grant” them the leeway to enjoy. To begin with, symbiosis denotes a stage of relatively “peaceful” coexistence of Hellenic and Christian traditions that did not exclude latent or open antagonism. Such states of coexistence usually occurred one of two ways. First, historical-cultural constellations of events “conspired” to bring the two religious cultures together. Or, second, they came into contact with each other geographically. Such symbioses also enabled the random and non-systematic mixture of elements from the two traditions out of practical, cultural, or other inherent considerations. Intermingling was virtually unavoidable when the two religious cultures neighbored each other. The process of mixing can take place in several ways: (a) as normal

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phenomenon due to close intercultural proximity, (b) as the simple survival of preexisting traditions, or (c) as unauthorized or unwanted infiltration. Another possibility when the two religious cultures met was that of fusion — the amalgamation, union, and merging of diverse elements of Hellenism and Christianity, even in an entirely new formation. In the case of a newly formed cultural-religious system, incongruities and differences do not much matter because the people involved accept it as a coherent whole. Unlike synthesis (the systematic attempt to eliminate issues of conflict and correlate Hellenism and Christianity positively), fusion accepts and goes on ahead in its new guise. Two other terms describe analogous (related but not identical) phenomena: syncretism and hybridity. Syncretism is the mixing of two or more discrete, opposite, and disparate traditions of thought and practice. Ultimately, they meld and merge, giving rise to a new entity. As in biology or botany (e.g., a tree with the bark of a maple and the leaves of an oak), hybridity — in a neutral sense and without considering hybrids negatively as aberrations — represents an admixture of two disparate religious cultures in which each clearly retains its “distinct” character (hybrid identity). Certainly, both these terms could also be used in this chapter. Yet, because they are perhaps overused nowadays, preference is given to the above, more neutral terminology.

The Ancient Period (up to 330 CE) From its origins in Palestine, Christianity soon grew and expanded into the greater Greco-Roman world with which it came unavoidably into contact. Given the new religion’s need to preach the Gospel and expand, there was perhaps no other option than to “take” some elements from its environment in the Mediterranean basin. In fact, a multifaceted interaction took place among various religious parties and their communities — involving, among others, Judaism, Gnosticism, and mystery cults — as they formed alliances, developed, and changed over the course of history.6 Given that Christianity’s early boundaries were elastic, both internally and externally, this situation favored religious overlap and borrowing from other religious cultures. This adaptability was more obvious among converts to Christianity. Conversion at the early stages of the religion’s spread was an elusive and fluid process.7 In concrete terms, many converts found it difficult to completely abandon their prior religious and

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cultural identity, especially the rites or practices with which they felt comfortable. Given the broad civic character of Hellenic polytheism and the social significance that it accorded to sacrifices, continuation of “versions” of these ritual practices within Christianity was inevitable. We see a picture of the tightrope walk of successful conversion in the epistles of the Apostle Paul, in which he addresses the early Christian communities in Greece that he founded. He offers admonition and advice on how to deal with internal local problems, giving us a glimpse into what obstacles early budding Christian converts faced in urban centers. He empathized with recent converts in Thessalonica facing hostile pressure from their neighbors. He addressed them in a fashion reminiscent of Hellenistic moral rhetoric, praising their achievements (1 Thes. 1, 7).8 Given that early Christian converts were mostly urban middle- and lowerclass people from very diverse social backgrounds and professions (e.g., artisans, merchants, non-slave laborers),9 it is likely that their religious socialization varied as well. Being a religious minority, their interaction with their surrounding pagan environment was more or less unavoidable. In such a situation, the old and the new (if wishing to avoid conflict) learned to coexist. This was especially true for those converts who had high social status, performed civic functions, or had a special profession. These people recognized that they still lived in predominantly polytheistic societies. It was unthinkable that they would rashly abandon their pagan socio-cultural context and risk becoming outcasts. In all probability, they “practiced” a few old ways to keep their place and position. Yet this pragmatic approach created some dissension among those converts in nascent Christian communities who had managed to break off from their pagan identity. “Purer” Christians acted scandalized and demanded better, more uniform adherence to the new religion and its precepts. Ritual tradition was a special bone of contention between Hellenism and Christianity. Although certainly influenced by the tradition of pagan rites, Christianity developed its own major rituals (baptism and Lord’s Supper) and minor rituals (assemblies) early on.10 It broke decisively with pagan ritual life by introducing one fundamental change, namely prohibiting the blood sacrifices practiced widely in antiquity (by Greeks, Romans, Jews, and others) and replacing them with other forms of devotion. Certainly, there had been intra-pagan criticism of sacrifices as not very useful for approaching specific deities and the divine in general. For example, Lucian of Samosata, Porphyry, and Iamblichus had exposed blood sacrifice to questioning and ridicule.11 Yet the decline of paganism’s rich

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and long ritual tradition, especially public sacrifices, came about not only by systematic state prohibition but also under the auspices of Christian theological critique. This was a profound development that hit the pagan world straight on its head. But what had Christianity to offer instead? Christianity chose to take another route, emphasizing the inner person and the self, a direction that played a pivotal role in the subsequent formulation of Christian doctrine, morality, and practice. This interiorizing impinged negatively on the outward-directed fulfillment of religious duties, including sacrifices, and was a crucial step in the development of the new religion. Christians developed other notions of sacrifice, Jesus’s death being the last and most noble of human sacrifices. One could imitate Jesus’s sacrifice through personal martyrdom or the ascetic life. The Eucharistic service, the axis of the entire Christian community, became the symbol of bloodless worship, a spiritual reenactment of Jesus’s life and sacrifice.12 These radical changes in the value and purpose of sacrifice opened a Pandora’s box of ills that beset not only paganism but early Christian communities as well. Paul describes a conspicuous example of this clash between old and new religious culture in Corinth (1 Cor. 8 – 10). Scholars are still trying to reconstruct what actually happened there.13 What we suspect is that differing social strata in the Corinthian Christian community led to “discrimination” against some of its less influential members by the more prominent ones. A crisis arose over the distribution and consumption of sacrificial meat being offered to the pagan deities in three settings: a pagan temple, the private abode of a pagan worshipper, and the market. At the time, Corinth had several sacred places to hold such events: the Asklepieion, the sanctuary of Demeter and Kore, the temples of Isis and Sarapis, and a few others.14 Some Corinthian Christians continued the pagan sacrificial traditions, leading to enormous internal turmoil. The issue raised hackles between the “strong” (1 Cor. 1, 26; 4, 10) and the “weak” (1 Cor. 8, 7, 9, 11, 12) members of the community. The “strong” ones were those who had no qualms about eating sacrificial meat themselves (1 Cor. 8, 4 – 13) and had the temerity to offer assembly places for sacrifices to pagans (1 Cor. 11, 22).15 This situation set off a verbal firestorm among the “weak” members, who were scandalized by the actions of their more influential Christian brethren. Paul stepped in sternly but diplomatically as pastor to placate both sides and bring peace to the community. He said that, of course, Christians ought to abstain from pagan rituals, especially sacrifices and their

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concomitant offerings. Yet, if a Christian consumed such meat like any other meat — without any further thoughts or symbolic action — there was basically no problem, for everything sold in the market was, in principle, edible (1 Cor. 10, 25 – 27). If eating was associated with the sacrificial ritual (1 Cor. 10, 28) and related traditions, however, then the Christian community had a problem. The need for solidarity within the community obliged Paul to take the sensitivities of some members (the “weak”) more into consideration and avoid scandalizing them. In this respect, the Corinthian crisis prefigures on a small scale what was to happen centuries later in the relations between Hellenism and Christianity in all of Greece. Symbiosis, mixture, and fusion would remain the rule. Hellenism was able to survive and influence Christianity in a variety of forms and despite official acts to combat it. Its resilience is observable beyond the domain of cult practices alone. No doubt, problems like those that Paul encountered in Corinth occurred frequently throughout Greece, whose Christian communities were in the minority in early centuries. The ongoing coexistence of Christian and pagans then, whether peaceful or conflictual, was an unavoidable fact of life. Archaeological research reveals further evidence of this coexistence and its repercussions. For example, Paul started his missionary activities on European soil in Philippi, a city refounded by the Romans in 42 BCE and colonized with veteran soldiers and other settlers. The local Christian community of Philippi developed slowly but steadfastly from its overwhelmingly pagan beginnings. One hypothesis is that Philippi was the place of Paul’s martyrdom (instead of Rome, as commonly assumed). And because Philippi has been a center of pilgrimage honoring Paul’s martyrdom since the fourth century (and in light of other extenuating evidence), the hypothesis is not such a wild one.16 What else does archaeology show concerning early Christian life in Philippi? A number of Christian monuments have been unearthed, including an octagonal church and several basilicas. The city boasted an agora (an open square surrounded by porticos, public buildings, and temples). No Christian structures have been discovered there, but a basilica (B) and other Christian monuments were found nearby, erected on the site of the city’s Roman Gymnasium. We may thus assume that Philippi was divided into separate communities and neighborhoods along religious lines. Christians and pagans probably lived side by side in a spirit of peaceful coexistence. If this hypothesis is correct, then the pagans had

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retained the agora as their main social center, and the Christians created their own centers around the agora. In the region east of the agora, an octagonal church, the cathedral of the city with a complex of buildings connected to it, had been erected, and probably served as the bishop’s church. An inscription indicates that this church was dedicated to the memory of the Apostle Paul. It was built in the early fourth century (after 313) as Philippi’s first centralized public assembly hall, and Bishop Porphyrios donated the mosaics.17 Of special interest is that the octagonal church was built into the southern section of the courtyard of the sacred temenos of a memorial shrine, dedicated to a local hero (heroon). Coexistence of this nature is not altogether unusual. In fact, it was possible to enter the Christian assembly hall through a northern entrance from the courtyard of the pagan shrine. A Christian inscription, found in the narthex of the basilica, has a north-south orientation. Why was that? It was probably an ancient, “userfriendly” sign, intended to direct those coming from the pagan shrine to the entrance of the Christian location. All this suggests the parallel coexistence and functioning of pagan and Christian sanctuaries in early fourthcentury Philippi. In all probability, Christians had asked and received official permission to erect such a building complex next to the pagan heroon. It is known that in many instances pagan hero worship was finally supplanted by the cult of Christian martyrs (an early Christian strategy). Interestingly enough, there exists another basilica (A) in Philippi, built next to another heroon. This does not rule out the possibility of Christianpagan worship of saints and heroes in either an overlapping or parallel manner. Similar phenomena appear elsewhere, such as among the Christians of Troy, who venerated both saints and heroes as honorable members of their city. Obviously, paganism and Christianity together served at times an integrative civic function.18 It would be thus misguided to view early Christian communities in Greece from an established Orthodox Christian perspective. Demarcation lines, as archaeological evidence from Philippi suggests, were not then so strictly drawn between Christian and pagan practices. A considerable number of pagan reliefs also reside in Philippi, carved into the rock of an acropolis hill, with a few accompanying inscriptions. The reliefs date from the end of the second to the beginning of the third centuries. This place must have functioned as an open-air shrine for pagan cults. The reliefs depict mainly goddess cults, especially of Diana/Artemis (see fig. 6.1), but also a Thracian Horseman. Deposits of votive offerings to the carved

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Fig. 6.1. A view of Philippi’s acropolis hill with the rock reliefs (sector II), in which the goddess Artemis is depicted (second half of the second century). Courtesy of Charalampos Tsochos.

deities, associated with healing and veneration of the dead, have been discovered. These reliefs indicate that various non-Christian groups were active in the city between 150 and 300 and that Christianity was a minor religion during this period. This is not surprising for a city that was a commercial center with a privileged position on the Via Egnatia and hosted various religious associations. There are also some Christian carvings (crosses), suggesting an overlap of cults. The following scenario is thus possible: if the cult of Christ did not completely satisfy all devotees and converts, they could resort to participating in coexisting pagan cults, as was usual in polytheistic systems. The fact that the cults associated with these reliefs and some other cults have endured into the Christian era (like that of Isis, which lasted until the fifth century) indicates that they had strong footholds in Philippi and could resist being overridden by Christian ways. There must also have been some congruence as a result of Philippi’s prime location as a mineral spring: it

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was both a pagan healing area and an important Christian pilgrim destination. We can easily speculate that both served the needs of various religious groups, picking up what was most attractive from the religious offerings available. If this hypothesis is correct, then the early religious history of Philippi reveals a rich mosaic of coexisting, interacting paganChristian traditions and practices.19 It might be precarious to generalize this situation to other cities in Greece, yet parallel examples of coexistence, mixture, and fusion seem likely. Conversions to Christianity were still in a state of flux at this early stage. Also, Greece was a unique setting for the survival of paganism. As already mentioned, destruction or confiscation of pagan sanctuaries and temple sites by Christians were rare occurrences in several parts of Greece. Later usurpation was not necessarily connected to explicit anti-pagan measures, for paganism had already waned. For example, the parallel coexistence of both pagan (in the civic center) and Christian (in the suburban areas) sacred places in Athens lasted up to the sixth century. Pagans owned richly decorated houses on the hill of Areopagus until about 530, when Christians took over and destroyed many of the pagan sculptures.20 Yet the case of Athens should not be considered exceptional.21 Early Christian basilicas and important pagan sanctuaries stand in close proximity elsewhere in Greece — at Olympia, Delphi, Nemea, Eleusis, Dodona, Delos, Lykosoura, and many other places. It is possible that this was a conscious policy adopted by the Christians to challenge the pagan places of worship and those attending them. If pagan sanctuaries had not ceased to function as such, this physical proximity may have also fostered a blending of pagan and Christian elements.22 It has been persuasively argued that many similarities between Christian and pagan practices facilitated overlap and mixture throughout Late Antiquity.23 The “Epigraphic Bulletin for Greek Religion,” regularly published in the special review Kernos, provides ample information on the persistence of pagan forms of worship, the adoption and reinterpretation of pagan motifs in Christianity, the influence of ancient magic on Christian magic and curses, and half-Christians or cryptopagans using pagan or ambiguous themes and vocabulary.

The Byzantine Period ( from 330 to 1453) The long Byzantine period is very interesting for evaluating the fate of Hellenism in a Christian context. Two primary factors bear on our subject

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and are more or less valid for later periods of Greek history as well. First, despite systematic suppression of pagan practices and traditions from officialdom, Christians and pagans coexisted throughout Late Antiquity, and not necessarily always in inimical terms. Paganism was a particularly hard nut for Christianity to crack in Greece, where it had an extremely firm grip. Even after the sixth century, when paganism “officially” ended, elements of a pagan presence of basically three types persisted: pagan enclaves that managed to survive in certain areas of Greece, fully convinced Christians who continued to practice select pagan rituals in a Christian setting, and converts to Christianity who consciously kept to a “middle road” between old and new. Unfortunately, our knowledge of what hid behind persons or groups following pagan customs in the Byzantine Empire is scanty. Undoubtedly, some pagan beliefs and practices were not unpleasant to Christian eyes and went “underground” to an incalculable degree, hence surviving longer than expected. This lack of information forces us to reassess various, mostly Christian, assumptions about the real range of the Christianization in the Byzantine Empire. A second major point: the memory of the Hellenic past did not die out in the Byzantine Empire. Rather than die out, quite the contrary occurred. The Hellenic tradition permeated Byzantium and left its imprint in every corner of geography and activity. Indeed, Hellenic culture, together with Roman statecraft and Christianity, are considered the cornerstones on which Byzantium was founded.24 Despite the decline in Hellenic religion, Byzantium inherited a great deal from ancient Greek language, learning, literature, arts, and science. For example, the memory of Athens, the beacon of Classical Antiquity, did not die out in Byzantium but rather was kept alive on various occasions.25 These traditions pertained more to elite culture, yet their impact can be found in popular culture as well, because they were fused with Christian elements and turned to Christian purpose. Of course, the long Byzantine period was not a uniform one and experienced variable phases of intellectual and cultural development. Nevertheless, the Hellenic tradition lingered on, gaining more ground especially after 1204 when many Byzantines began to identify themselves as Hellenes. To avoid misunderstanding, however, let me iterate that all this was not coterminous with reviving Hellenic religion in cultic terms; rather, Hellenism managed to enliven its pervasive presence and religious past in the veins, if you will, of numerous Byzantines. No one succeeded in erasing it completely from medieval Greek memory, so it stayed alive, even if in the background.

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So what did the coexistence, overlap, and mixture of Christianity and paganism signify, especially regarding pagan survival in later centuries? As we know, the transition to Christianity met bumps in the road as well as smooth transit, and took considerable time to be completed. Empirewide there was also a great deal of variability in each locale. The political sphere certainly did not ignore pagans and their attitudes toward Christianization. Some political figures regarded preserving pagan traditions as a prerequisite for the governance of the Roman Empire. It was for this reason that Emperor Julian demanded exact preservation of public sacrifices as integral to his effort to revitalize Hellenic religion.26 He despised any innovations or deviations from tradition, especially regarding the deities and everything related to them. Further, pagans continued to hold high positions in the administration, although Christians were in the majority there.27 Emperor Leo I (r. 457 – 74) had already banned pagans from the legal profession by 468.28 Nonetheless, it is estimated that between 395 and 491 more than twelve civil servants performing a variety of functions were pagans.29 Suffice it also to mention the unsuccessful “pagan” revolt (484 – 88) of the high official Illus, Leontios, and the pagan philosopher Pamprepios (440 – 84) against Emperor Zeno (r. 474 – 91), who in turn unleashed severe anti-pagan persecution.30 In addition, intellectual paganism survived well into the sixth century, especially among pagan Neoplatonists.31 Meanwhile, Christianity’s inclusive strategy of incorporating pagan elements in Byzantium was only partially successful, depending on time and place. Some Christian communities were very tolerant of the old religion. Despite prohibitions, conversions, and shifts in orientation, it was extremely difficult to eradicate ancient customs that had prevailed among the population throughout the ages. The problem was obviously greater in the provinces. Belated anti-pagan legislation makes clear that paganism continued to survive in Byzantium. As late as 451 and 472, emperors Marcian (r. 450 – 57) and Leo I, respectively, reintroduced legislation banning sacrifice.32 This is also why Emperor Anastasius (r. 491 – 518) ordered severe penalties for those adhering to paganism, both in the capital and the provinces, and insisted that such cases be brought to court.33 As already indicated, the case of Greece is particularly instructive in terms of the effects of Christian anti-pagan legislation. In many instances, late fourth- and early fifth-century Christians avoided destroying or defacing pagan temple sites. In addition, the attempts to transform or close the major pan-Hellenic sanctuaries of Olympia, Delphi, Isthmus of Corinth,

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and Nemea met with mixed results after the general prohibition of pagan cults by Emperor Theodosius I in 391. These places functioned as important centers of festivities and communication as well as orientation points for the local or regional population. The sanctuary in Olympia was profaned, but the pagan traditions remained unscathed. The Olympic Games and their festivities continued to take place for the next thirty years. An earthquake destroyed the Olympic site in the early sixth century, after which it experienced gradual degradation and depopulation. The festivities and the games in Nemea also continued until the early fifth century, whereas those in Isthmia probably occurred throughout the fifth century. Finally, in Delphi, although Christians had destroyed the temple of Apollo, the festivities and the games continued throughout the fifth and perhaps even in the sixth centuries.34 Although Greek Christians introduced Christianized festivities in urban areas in hopes of creating models for similar initiatives in the countryside, rural areas had proved thornily resistant to systematic missions to inculcate the new monotheistic religion. We should not forget that paganism flourished more in natural surroundings than in urban settings. There is evidence that pagans slipped out of cities to find remote places (caves and subterranean places) where they could worship unfettered and resist the growing influence of Christianity in Greece. For example, archaeological research had unearthed thousands of fifth- and sixth-century Roman lamps in the Cave of Pan, the Nymphs, and Apollo at Vari (Mount Hymettos, Attica). It is possible that Byzantium-era pagan worshippers resumed using this place, which had been abandoned in the second century. The same is true of another Cave of Pan, this one on Mount Parnes (Attica), where over two thousand late Roman lamps were found. This suggests pagan practice at least into the fifth century.35 Similar survivals are also attested to in other caves found in Attica, such as the Phyle Pan Cave, the Eleusis Pan Cave, and the Marathon Cave. Yet under the pressure of Christianity some of these cults may have also undergone considerable changes and acquired an ambiguous character, serving both pagans and Christians. Such was probably the case with a subterranean bath complex at a natural spring, located west of the Asklepieion at the northern edge of Corinth, a city in which continuity with the pagan past was the norm during Late Antiquity. This was also used as a cult center until the middle of the sixth century to worship the spirits (Nymphs) believed to dwell in it, and it also became the repository of votive offerings. Called by modern scholars the “Fountain of the

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Lamps” because of over four thousand votive terracotta lamps with different motifs found there, it attests to the ongoing survival of pagan practices, even in the form of clandestine or private worship. But it seems that it occasionally served other worshippers as well, most notably Christians, because of the Christian signs found on some lamps and the local belief in “angels who dwell upon these waters.” Such a polysemous cult site shows how precarious it would be to bisect pagan and Christian activity at a specific site during Late Antiquity.36 Generally, it is difficult to trace with accuracy the spread of Christianity in early Byzantine Greece beyond the urban centers. Minor cults and other celebrations may well have survived beyond the fifth century, either in a pure pagan, Christian, or mixed setting. Early fifth-century state officials estimated that pagans survived only in isolated areas of the Byzantine Empire, if not totally extinct. Imperial legislation against paganism in 423 intended to “suppress any pagans who survive,” although it was believed “that there are none.”37 Yet this was far from true. Paganism continued to exist up to the sixth century among members of higher social classes, including the period of Emperor Justinian I. More important, isolated pagan enclaves remained scattered throughout the Byzantine Empire, including Greece, and balked at Christianization. Emperor Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus (r. 905 – 59) refers to surviving non-Slavic groups of pagans in the remote areas of southern Peloponnesus (Mani): “Even to this day they are called ‘Hellenes’ by the local inhabitants, because in the very ancient times they were idolaters and worshippers of images after the fashion of the ancient Hellenes.”38 Although most of these groups had already been baptized and Christianized during the reign of Emperor Basil I, it can be inferred from this passage that some had managed to remain unbaptized to that day (the tenth century). It is difficult to reconstruct the religious system of those “Hellenes,” which might have also included magical practices and “superstitions” typical of such rural populations. But that pagan survival probably bore little, if any, concrete relation to the Hellenic pantheon of twelve deities.39 The existence of such pagans, including those of Slavic origin, on the Spartan plane is further attested to by the court historian Joseph Genesios (tenth century) and the cleric Nikon the “Metanoeite” (ca. 930 – ca. 1000), who moved to Sparta and from the early 970s did missionary work in the area converting many remaining pagans to Christianity.40 Pagan traditions were also mixed with Christian ones in Byzantium, regardless of official church reactions. Many of those who converted to

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Christianity did not see this as a complete break with their pagan socialization. They might adhere to Christianity while partaking of the pagan amusement sector. Christians loved, for example, to attend various spectacles like horse races and wrestling in the hippodrome of Constantinople — a vice harshly criticized by John Chrysostom and other ecclesiastics intent on purging the city of any remaining pagan traditions.41 As already mentioned, his attacks extended to the pagan theatrical tradition, yet another pernicious threat to Christian morality in Byzantium. If we look at religious practice during Late Antiquity, there were many intersections of cult activities between Christians and pagans.42 Mixed practices, such as Christians attending pagan celebrations and vice versa, were plentiful. The process of selected assimilation of pagan culture by Christians rendered the borders between Christianity and paganism in many cases very fluid.43 Byzantine Christianity was not as Orthodox as the doctrinal rigidity of the official church suggested. Aside from influences on the elite culture, popular culture often stepped over the borders that were supposed to separate paganism and Christianity. This is no surprise in an era that witnessed a legitimation of certain forms of popular religion, such as the transfer of the cult of the Mother of God and the veneration of icons into the more official church realm. The church still held onto its key options regarding local beliefs and practices: acceptance, tolerance, or outspoken condemnation. It was another matter for converted practitioners who felt themselves able to coalesce various practices without a total turnaround of orientation. Pre-Christian rituals thus often “morphed” into a Christian character. This ranged from magic and astrology to amulets and apotropaic rituals.44 Regardless of church reactions, many Christians adapted their previous pagan identity to the new situation. This kind of mixture is revealed, for example, on Christian tombstones found in Athens, which still bear the dead person’s pagan name. The tombstone of a man named Asklepiarion was found not far from the Asklepieion of Athens. As a former pagan, he must have heard about the healing god and his sacred place, and obviously preferred to keep his pagan name rather than accept a Christian one.45 Credible evidence for the unwanted lingering of pagan traditions appears in council decisions. Characteristic prohibitions come from the Council of Trullo or Quinisextum, convened in Constantinople in 691/92, which dealt in detail with issues of discipline, morals, and popular pagan cult practices. It threatened to excommunicate Christians for adhering to or flirting with “destructive practices and Greek customs,” though some

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of them had an explicitly Roman provenance. Among other things, the sixty-first canon condemned divination of various sorts, the practitioners of witchcraft, the purveyors of amulets, and the soothsayers. The sixtysecond canon condemned the feast of Calends, the New Year festival, involving carousing and masked dancing; the feast of Vota, celebrated on January 3; that of Brumalia, a twenty-four-day festival from November 24 to December 17; and the festival celebrated on the first day of the month of March, similar to the Calends. It also condemned the dances and rites “in the name of those falsely called gods of the Greeks, according to an ancient custom foreign to the life of Christians.” The same canon went on to condemn transvestism; the wearing of comic, satirical, or tragic masks; and the invocation of the name of the “abhorrent Dionysus” in various Dionysiac cults by Christians “like those who are possessed by the error of the pagan demons.” Finally, the sixty-fifth canon condemned “those who light fires in front of their business and homes on the new moons, and behaving foolishly and following an ancient custom, jump over them.”46 Given the popularity of those practices, however, such prohibitions of pagan remnants were highly ineffective. This is why John of Damascus was still writing of pagan-oriented Christians (Ἐθνόφρονες) who indulged in undesirable habits like astrology, divination, magic, incantations, and Hellenic feasts in the late seventh and early eighth centuries.47 Much later, the historiographer Niketas Choniates (1155/57 – 1217) also sought to combat and condemn surviving pagan rituals and feasts.48 The practice of blood sacrifices also would not die out, neither officially (for example, upon entering a treaty with an enemy) nor at a popular level.49 Naturally, church officials and canonists (Theodore Balsamon, 1130/40 – after 1195) were furious but still not able to stamp out a host of other practices involving masked dances, fortune-tellers, astrologists, sorcerers, and magicians. In fact, pagan-like practices and festivities (e.g., Calends) seem to have endured until the end of the Byzantine Empire, as Joseph Bryennios in the fifteenth century testifies.50 Interestingly enough, such pagan traditions did not survive at the grassroots level alone but also were alive among the higher echelons of Byzantine society, including the imperial court in the Great Palace of Constantinople (e.g., the festival of Brumalia, which survived until the tenth century).51 Are the sources about paganism’s various forms of survival in Byzantium reliable? In principle, yes, although many details are lacking. It is something of a moot point because paganism did not constitute a real threat to Christianity at the time. Most of the condemnations had to do

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with cementing church authority, but, as we have noted, official polemic did little to bring a lasting end to pagan festivals and rituals that resurfaced in Greece later on. We should not forget, however, that these pagan traditions were often tinged with Christian connotations and took place in a Christian context, as even clerics joined the related celebrations. In addition, the reconstruction of the exact origins of such festivities might have been unknown to the average Christian participant, whereas church authorities labeled them indistinctly “Hellenic” and “pagan.” Let us proceed now to a factor that truly influenced the uninterrupted presence of Hellenic tradition in Byzantium: the Greek language, a constant reminder of Greek Antiquity, a bridge from ancient to medieval times, and a conduit of religious tradition. It was in the Greek language that the major patristic achievements came to fruition. Greek was both a vehicle for the dissemination of Christian truth and an inextricable part of the Hellenic world. Thus, elementary and advanced Greek grammatical education thrived in the Christian era as well.52 Such education called for acquiring not only reading and writing skills but also steeping oneself in ancient Greek poetry and literature. Homer was the predominant figure in epic;53 Aeschines, Isocrates, and Demosthenes in rhetoric; Euripides in drama; and Herodotus, Xenophon, and Thucydides in history. Homer, Euripides, and Menander drew the most attention as top lecture topics.54 Byzantine education, even that available in remote places, was greatly based on ancient Greek authors.55 Whenever Byzantine literati — from Constantinople to Thessalonica and Nicaea — used the Greek language, they were mindful that this was the language of the great philosophers, orators, and poets of Greek Antiquity. They strove to imitate the ancient greats and emulate their linguistic prowess in the classic literary genres of encomium, funerary speech, lyric poetry, and historiography. Byzantine literary and scientific output in almost all domains (philosophy, rhetoric, philology, poetry, epistolography, history, geography, mathematics, astronomy, natural sciences, medicine) overflowed with Greek learning.56 Elite Byzantines were proud of the homage that they paid the ancient Greek world, in part to demonstrate their magnanimity and cultural superiority to other peoples. While not cultic activity per se, literature of this sort had deep “wormholes” to the pagan world, including Hellenic religion. Literature was part of a whole culture that could not be fragmented in pieces. After all, most teachers of classical literature in the fifth century were still pagans and

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worked in the traditional learning centers of the ancient world (including Athens), whereas students were a mix of Christians and pagans. Pagan teachers were sometimes quite tolerant toward Christians. This was the case of the Sophist and rhetorician Himerius (ca. 315 – 86), who wrote and delivered some orations for Emperor Julian, taught in Athens and counted Basil of Caesarea and Gregory of Nazianzus among his students. The pagan educational establishment continued until the reign of Emperor Justinian I, whose legislation was critical in the development of Byzantine Christianity. He understood with perspicacity the intrinsic connection between the survival of paganism and the transmission of classical learning by pagan teachers. He decided to close the Academy of Athens in 529, ban pagan teachers from education, and replace traditional classical literature with Christian texts. His effort was by no means the end of classical scholarship in Byzantium, which endured and eventually experienced a renaissance. Yet paganism was not willing to disappear in storytelling, considering the generous use of Hellenic mythology by early Christian writers and throughout Byzantium. Christian criticism of the polytheistic fallacies and myths associated with pagan worship predominated. The element of criticism remained constant, as when Christians accused pagans of stealing their material or falling under the influence of demons. Beginning with the Apologist Justin, however, another tendency arose, that of elucidating parallels between pagan myths and the Bible, though certainly not to revive Hellenic religion. Pagan myths simply served many useful purposes, especially when they strengthened Christian arguments. Some mythological figures like Orpheus were also interpreted as prefigurations of Jesus Christ. Because mythology was inextricably intertwined with Hellenic religion in antiquity, it remained a source of information about the past, no matter how it has been appropriated or distorted by Christian writers.57 The same holds true for the myth of Dionysus that survived in a Christian context. In the poem Christus Patiens (twelfth century), “The lament of Mary for Christ is composed in part of verses from the (lost) lament of Agaue for Dionysos in Bacchae.”58 Thus, despite sharp criticism against Hellenic polytheism and persistent suspicion toward its content, Hellenic myths and motifs were reworked and used for Christian purposes throughout Byzantium by learned ecclesiastics and others.59 In addition, the Byzantine romance novel was actually filled more with pagan tidbits than with Christian elements. Byzantine writers in the twelfth century (e.g., Prodromos, Eustathios Makrembolites, Niketas

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Eugenianos) rediscovered and imitated ancient Greek literature as a basis for their Hellenic fantasy works. They made many references to Hellenic deities and beliefs in the plot and setting of these novels. Mostly written in difficult ancient Greek verse, these romance novels were by no means Christian-oriented. On the contrary, they were explicitly pagan fictions that even sported pagan mentalities. The same motifs can be found in later vernacular romance novels as well, which were more accessible to the average Byzantine.60 Further, a strong connection to the Hellenic religious past has always been available in the domain of art.61 Christian interest in pagan myths, having found expression in early Christian art, also continued fruitfully in Byzantium. Mythological motifs had quite an impact on the later development of Christian iconography. Representations of Hellenic oracles appear in Byzantine manuscripts, and the rich tradition of Dionysiac visual art did influence early Christian and Byzantine art (e.g., the representation of vine, identified with both Dionysus and Jesus).62 Finally, Hellenic and Christian monuments often found a place next to each other in Constantinople, even in later centuries, as shown by the Παραστάσεις Σύντομοι Χρονικαί (Brief Historical Notes), a mid-eighthcentury work describing the city and its antiquities.63 For example, the city’s founder, Emperor Constantine I, moved the snake column from the Delphi oracle to the hippodrome of the new capital, whereas outside the Senate stood statues of Zeus and Athena on stone pedestals. In fact, Constantine retained Roman civic religion (i.e., the public forms of religion, including state cults and rituals) in the new capital while accommodating it to the cults of deities important to the founding traditions of Byzantium.64 The mosaics of the Great Palace of Constantinople were also full of pagan motifs (e.g., hunting and bucolic scenes, exotic creatures, the procession of Dionysus from India, a spring goddess, Bellerophon fighting against Chimaera).65 In various other surviving floor mosaics (in private houses, public buildings, or churches) some motifs (animals, plants, nature personifications, deities) are purely pagan (see fig. 6.2), whereas others are interspersed with Christian themes. Such artwork does not usually indicate a strict adherence to a pagan past but rather a coexistence of pagan and Christian motifs or a blend of Hellenic cultural-religious elements in a Christian setting.66 The persistence of literary themes and styles going back to pagan antiquity can also be amply observed in various surviving works of art from later Byzantine times.67 Finally, the official backing of pagan sculpture in early Byzantium, although paradoxical for a Christian empire, should be understood in connection with the

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Fig. 6.2. A mosaic floor (ca. forty square meters) from a secular building in the city of Larissa related to the cult of Dionysus (end of sixth or beginning of the seventh centuries). On the right lower part, a couple bringing offerings to Dionysus, probably the donors of the mosaic. It is possible that this floor was made by a local mosaic workshop and attests to the survival of Dionysus’s cult in a largely Christian era. Courtesy of Stavroula Sdrolia.

ambiguous policy of early Byzantine emperors toward paganism. The officials entrusted by Constantine I with the decoration of Constantinople were, after all, pagans. Another reason may be found in the continued high appreciation of ancient artistic achievements and the creativity of the ancients, particularly by the Byzantine upper classes, a phenomenon also observed in the Late Byzantine period.68 It has been argued that Byzantine civilization as a whole should not be viewed primarily through the strong influence of the classical past, which might have played a role solely for a small intellectual and political elite and not for the huge mass of the illiterate.69 Be that as it may,

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even the average Byzantine had a chance glimpse of Classical Antiquity through various means, even if through Christian lenses (e.g., in hagiographical texts, which usually constituted popular reading material).70 Although in a state of flux due to the passage of time, the ancient Greek heritage remained a constant element and a powerful factor in Byzantine history — naturally, with varied intensity in its different phases.71 Even as it coexisted with Christian themes — reworked, mixed, or fused with them — vestiges of the Hellenic religious past were always there. As Peter Brown eloquently put it, “Antiquitas, an ancient, pagan past that dogged the Christian present, lag close to the heart of medieval Christendom — an inescapable, endlessly fascinating companion, tinged with sadness and with a delicious sense of danger, a synecdoche of human nature itself, lived out under the shadow of Adam’s Sin.”72 It was a bit of a Hellenic Sleeping Beauty story, a religious memory condemned and put in a trance but ready to come back to life under favorable circumstances. Such an awakening was made possible in the Late Byzantine Empire when a renewed Hellenic identity started to gain momentum and support. The subsequent emergence of a pagan revival, like the one that Plethon initiated, cannot be well understood without reference to this precedent-setting and lengthy symbiosis, mixture, and fusion of Hellenic and Christian elements throughout Byzantium.

The Ottoman Period (1453 – 1830) This mode of interaction between Hellenism and Christianity entered a new phase when the Ottomans overtook Byzantium. First of all, the sociopolitical constellations of the Ottoman Empire did not prohibit such mixing interactions between Hellenism and Christianity. Second, being Hellenized via language and education, the Patriarchate of Constantinople remained, on the one hand, faithful to Byzantine universalism; and on the other hand, it helped preserve many aspects of the Hellenic tradition, especially with regard to its Greek Orthodox subjects. Hellenic religion was not part of the picture, but, as we have seen in earlier chapters, its everpresent threat to Christian establishment stood in the shadows. The “new new thing” of the era was the rediscovery of Greek Antiquity by the West, beginning at the time of the Renaissance, a turn of events that certainly affected the Orthodox Greeks under Ottoman rule. This broad phenomenon was intrinsically connected, albeit not exclusively

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identified, with the elapsed pagan past. It reactivated new approaches to literature and the arts and reached into the various layers of society. This went hand in hand with a critical stance toward the Roman Catholic Church that would grow into a broader anti-Christian front during the Enlightenment. All these developments (although not leading to a pagan revival per se) bore on modern Greeks, many of whom entertained close ties with Western Europe, especially in the eighteenth century. In forming a strong attachment to the Hellenic past, sometimes to the detriment of their Orthodox Christian identity, several of these Greeks came into conflict with the church. At any rate, it was the enthusiastic embrace of Greek Antiquity by Western Europe that lay behind the developments in Greek religious and cultural consciousness during this period. On this enlarged panorama of a coexistence of Hellenic and Christian elements, Orthodox Greeks had many chances to become keenly aware of the historical connection to their glorious ancestors from antiquity and to assert their identity, especially in their dealings with the West. They used their Greekness, if you will, as a means of attracting Western attention to their difficult situation under Ottoman rule. This strategy is evident from the time of Humanism, which revived the study of Classical Antiquity, to that of Romanticism and Philhellenism. It can be observed among Greek humanists (e.g., Maximos Margounios) active in the West in the sixteenth century up to the Greek students of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries enrolled in various West European universities. These Greeks had no reservations about showcasing their linguistic and cultural continuity with their ancestors, a heritage then so highly valued in Western Europe. They sometimes experienced Western contempt of the Orthodox East, however, and felt compelled to defend their own cultural and religious tradition. In such cultural comparisons, Greek Antiquity played a fundamental role and was thought to bestow on the Greek side a clear advantage. Further, Greeks during this period tried to apply high standards when writing treatises, speeches, poems, and letters, following ancient Greek prototypes and rules of composition. One such writer was a young Greek named Alexander Helladius (from Greece), probably a pen name, who spent a long time in Western Europe in the early eighteenth century. Being familiar with classical literature, especially Homer, he tried to imitate his favorite author by composing poems, among them one relating his own “odyssey” in Western Europe. By doing this he also identified himself with the long chain of Greek poets from antiquity up to his era.73 Yet this identification with being historically Greek did not usually reverse

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the Orthodox Christian convictions of those involved. This holds true, as already mentioned, for Alexander Helladius. In addition, when a Greek philosopher and physician from Sinope (Pontus), Paraskevas Damianus (d. 1776), defended Christian Wolff ’s (1679 – 1754) philosophy in Germany in the late 1720s, he felt that he was standing in the footsteps of his compatriot Diogenes (d. 323 BCE), the famous ancient Cynic philosopher, also from Sinope. At the same time, he used arguments from the Orthodox patristic tradition for the existence of God to combat accusations that Wolff was an atheist.74 We know that the sense of Greek identity was not confined to the intellectual domain alone. Thomas, a Greek from Argos and leader of a Greek mercenary corps in English service of King Henry VIII (r. 1509 – 47), for example, gave a telling speech to rally his men (about 550 of them) for a decisive battle against the French, who outnumbered the Greeks. Thomas gave his soldiers stirring words of encouragement, comparing them to their glorious ancestors in antiquity, who had excelled at warfare and bravery. He sought not just a simple likeness between his men and ancient warriors but also a link to their status as direct “descendants of the Hellenes.” In his view, Greeks across history had to set the highest possible standards to be admired and imitated everywhere in the world. In a traditional Hellenic fashion, he also talked about their adversaries as “barbarians.” The battle ended victoriously for the Greek side. Nicander Nucius, a Corfiote, recorded this story as part of an interesting account of his travels in Western Europe in the sixteenth century.75 The Orthodox Church also played a more subdued role in Greek identification with its past. As we know, the church was a promoter of Hellenic learning under Ottoman rule. The school curriculum included grammar, rhetoric, history, epistolography, and works by ancient Greek authors. To be trained in the elegant use of Greek was considered an advantage for one’s career and social mobility. Lavish manuscripts and schoolbooks in Greek came out of the Ottoman period. The church’s selective appropriation and promotion of the Hellenic tradition were, however, distinct from the Western reception of antiquity and its premises. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries it was possible to come to an accommodation and overcome differences between them. But in the eighteenth century this divergence intensified as a generation of Western-educated Greek scholars came under the spiritual leadership of Adamantios Koraïs. We will learn more in chapter 7 about his autonomous quest for Greek Antiquity and identity under Western influence, and his subsequent break from church

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control. In addition, numerous other learned Greeks at the time initiated their own quest for Greek Antiquity, expressed in various forms and with explicit reference to pagan motifs, evidenced, for example, in the lyric (erotic and Bacchic) poetry of Athanasios Christopoulos (1771 – 1847) following the tradition of Anacreon.76 The Hellenic tradition also survived the Ottoman era in another context, namely that of popular culture. Folk songs from this period attest to a Hellenic-Christian fusion. Sung by rebels living in the mountains and opposing Ottoman rule as well as by the masses, these songs wove together many strands of ancient Greek traditions with Christian themes of popular piety. Greek fighters were thus regarded as the perpetuators of a long Greek tradition of resistance, this time against the infidels of Islam, and as heroic defenders of the Orthodox Christian faith. Above all, in the decades before the Greek War of Independence, the connection between modern Greeks and the ancient Greek heroes was widespread, varied, and a strong motivator for action against the Turks.77 Alexandros Ypsilantis (1792 – 1828), the leader of the Greek insurrection in the Danubian Principalities in 1821, addressed his corps by saying: Let us recollect, brave and generous Greeks, the liberty of the classic land of Greece; the battles of Marathon and Thermopylae, let us combat upon the tombs of our ancestors who, to leave us free, fought and died. The blood of our tyrants is dear to the shades of the Theban Epaminondas, and of the Athenian Thrasybulus who conquered and destroyed the thirty tyrants — to those of Harmodion and Aristogeiton who broke the yoke of Pisistratus — to that of Timoleon who restored liberty to Corinth and to Syracuse — above all, to those of Miltiades, Themistocles, Leonidas, and the three hundred who massacred so many times their number of the innumerable army of the barbarous Persians — the hour is come to destroy their successors, more barbarous and still more detestable. Let us do this or perish. To arms then, my friends, your country calls you.78

To what extent did the expanded identification with “all that was Greek” actually dovetail with Ottoman-era Hellenic religion? Certainly, it was not aimed at reviving paganism as a cultic phenomenon. Still, this Greek identification was strongly intertwined with Hellenic religion. Even when on the margins of thought, ancient Greek texts and traditions kept rearing their “pagan heads” like Hydras. For example, when the aforementioned Alexander Helladius came out with a congratulatory poem in dac-

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tylic hexameter in 1709, he gleaned words and expressions from Homer in particular, and the epic poetry genre in general, making many explicit references to the Muses and the Hellenic pantheon. Even had he affixed a Christian cover to the poem, it would still have offered a wealth of information about a Hellenic religious past integral to Greek culture and history as a whole.79 No doubt, there were several other cases in which Hellenic mythology, religion, customs, lore, and traditions were directly presented to the Greek Orthodox public. In 1796, the physician and poet Georgios Sakellarios (1767 – 1836) published in Vienna the book Ἀρχαιολογία συνοπτικὴ τῶν Ἑλλήνων (Concise Archaeology of the Greeks), in which he described in detail the Olympic Games and the theatrical competitions in ancient Greece. The philologist and professor of Greek language at the Royal Academy of Vienna, Athanasios Stageiritis (ca. 1780 – ca. 1840), published five lengthy volumes of a comprehensive history of Hellenic and foreign mythology under the title Ὠγυγία ἢ ἀρχαιολογία (Ogygia or Archaeology) in Vienna between 1815 and 1820. His book detailed all major aspects of Hellenic religion and mythology, and was accompanied by engravings of the major Hellenic deities. In sum, it was a very informative book about ancient polytheism that could have been written by someone flirting with those Hellenic traditions; yet this was not the case with Stageiritis. In the preface to the third volume, he refuted the charge that Greeks had persecuted followers of Hellenic religion, and he emphasized the catalytic role that Greeks had played in disseminating Christianity. A similar but smaller book appeared in Vienna in 1812, written by the priest Charisios Megdanis (1768 – 1832) and entitled Ἑλληνικὸν πάνθεον (The Hellenic Pantheon). Although devoted to Hellenic deities and their allegorical interpretation, its intent was to instruct Megdanis’s Orthodox parishioners, certainly not to revive paganism. Another book published in Venice in 1815 was Grigorios Paliouritis’s (1778 – 1816) two-volume Ἀρχαιολογία ἑλληνική (Hellenic Archaeology). It described the public and private customs of ancient Greeks (especially the Athenians), including aspects of Hellenic religion, from an “ethnographic” perspective. These works were part of a widespread and enhanced interest in Greek Antiquity and culture at the turn of the nineteenth century. Although written by Orthodox Christians, these works did not attack Hellenic mythology and religion in the harsh manner of church officials and other Orthodox contemporaries (like the aforementioned Athanasios Parios). *

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Having already examined local religious beliefs and practices and the survival of pagan elements in Byzantine times, it is useful to see what happened in the Ottoman period. How did such popular customs and traditions circumvent church prohibitions? They definitely played a vital role in the religious life of Orthodox Greeks under Ottoman rule. It is characteristic that the official church, despite its vocal admonitions and prohibitions, did little to defeat such practices or eliminate their undesirable elements. Thus, the longevity of popular religion found no exception in the Ottoman Empire. Valuable information on such popular beliefs and practices of the Greeks is provided by Leo Allatios (ca. 1586 – 1669), a convert to Roman Catholicism born in Chios, who still had a passionate interest in the Orthodox East. His 1645 compendium, De Graecorum hodie quorundam opinationibus, is a trove of information about such beliefs and practices among his Greek Orthodox contemporaries, and draws on earlier Byzantine literature as well. He deals with such topics as child-stealing demons, other demonic creatures, revenants, spirits of lace, and healing practices prevalent among the Orthodox common people (in many cases, with plausible pre-Christian origins). Unlike its Western counterparts, the Orthodox Church was obviously less restrictive toward this kind of popular religion, and in several cases treated it with tolerance or absorbed it in its official structure. Orthodox popular religion appeared thus to occur within a Christian framework. Allatios was eager to show this continuity of Greek faith from early Christian times, although he excluded the classical past.80 Western travelers also wrote a great deal about popular customs and religion in Greece, though their accounts tend to be less reliable and more apocryphal. Nevertheless, they were enthusiasts, keen to discover the vestiges of Greek Antiquity in modern Greece, and thus scouting avidly for whatever had pre-Christian, Hellenic origins. Pierre-Augustin Guys (1721 – 99) remarked, for example, that the Christian rituals and religious feasts that he had observed in Greece were reminiscent of ancient rites and that the Greek language used in the church documented the uninterrupted continuity of the Hellenic heritage.81 Later French travelers also regarded the Greek Orthodox Church as “a continuation of the cult of gods and demi-gods” of ancient Greece.82 Given this enhanced interest in popular religion, it was a foregone conclusion that the church would react, especially when something seemed far too Hellenic and sounded the alarm. Such a reaction came, for example,

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in the late eighteenth century from the learned bishop Theophilos Papaphilis (1718/19 – ca. 1795), who issued a condemnation of certain popular rituals of Hellenic origin: Christians running around with icons in an ecstatic ceremonial dance “like Hellenes,” along with the outlawed practice of animal sacrifice (Kurbania). The ensuing lengthy expositions about these rituals show how much these practices bothered church authorities.83 Similar prohibitions of various popular practices because of their “Hellenic, pagan origins” appear in other canonical books of the period,84 indicating that such rituals were still being performed in Greece at that time.85 Before proceeding to the modern period, it is useful to reflect that most Orthodox Greeks of the Ottoman era had no crisis of confidence about practicing popular rituals that smacked of Hellenism, regardless of the fussing and fuming of the church. Their view of being Orthodox was not as rigid as that of the official church; they were usually happy to accommodate as many traditions into their religious and cultural repertoire as they could comfortably get away with. This repertoire was quite broad and inclusive, as the following example shows. The ceremony of the “Sacred Earth” on the North Aegean island of Lemnos during the feast of the Transfiguration of Jesus (August 6) might have initially been a Christian appropriation of a Hellenic fire festival. When the Ottomans took over the island in 1479, they officially revived and promoted this ceremony for their own purposes and with outside participation. This led to an interesting collaboration between locals and outsiders, as well as between Greek Orthodox and Muslim participants, offering fish and sacrificing a lamb, respectively, and excavating together a quantity of clay on the top of a hill.86 Obviously, the borders of Orthodox popular religion under Ottoman rule were even open to Muslims.

The Modern Period (1830 to the Present) The symbiosis-mixture-fusion mode of interaction found extremely fertile ground for development in the modern Greek state, which felt that it had to accommodate both Hellenism and (Orthodox) Christianity in order to avoid the historical bifurcations and conflicts that had been so disruptive in the past. This was hardly an easy undertaking, for the entire history of the Greek people was contiguous with these two religious cultures. Modern Greece had developed an Orthodox Christian character, however, and a formal reinstitution of Hellenic religion in a brand of modern paganism

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was out of the question. Yet Hellenic religion was recognized as an intrinsic part of the nation’s broader Hellenic tradition. The revival of this tradition was deemed of utmost importance for the newly founded state, and thus it was given a legitimate place in modern Greece. The solution to the initial dilemma was to present Hellenic religion as a symbol — not an active locus of polytheistic worship but rather a historical vestige of an elapsed glorious era. The state, in something of its own mixed metaphor, promoted the “passing of the torch” of paganism to Christianity, after which Christianity would be the chief “Olympian.” The state policy of strengthening the connection to antiquity without breaking its strong bonds with the church, and without explicitly reviving paganism, was particularly conducive to the mode of interaction under discussion. The issue has mainly to do with the manifold and multilayered reception and use of Greek Antiquity in modern Hellenism.87 This can be observed at a variety of levels, for example in the domain of artistic creation, as the exhibition “Classical Memories in Modern Greek Art,” first presented in 2001 at the Onassis Cultural Center in New York, clearly documents. Unavoidably, this entire process included the explicit revival of pagan elements and motifs but without their religious content. No doubt, the appearance of the head of god Hermes, the messenger from the deities to humans in Hellenic religion, on the first Greek postage stamp in 1861 was not meant to revive paganism. Continuities with prior centuries were especially obvious in the importance placed on popular religion and its pagan leanings, despite countermeasures by the church. Two factors marked, however, a sea change in the modern Greek era. First was the intensity of its identification with the “Greek continuum” that stretched back to ancient times. Second was the phenomenon of distancing from the Orthodox Christian tradition or even outspokenly opposing it because of such a Hellenic revival. The antithesis that long divided Hellenism and Christianity, whether mild or strong, lurked behind the protests that arose. The changes induced in and by the modern Greek state can best be studied by looking at the fate of the sacred monuments of Greek Antiquity.88 Socio-historical and political circumstances had almost always dictated the use of these sites and ruins. Some of them, as we know, served multiple purposes. Even when taken over by Christianity, the Hellenic prestige of a number of monuments remained, ready to resurface under favorable new conditions. This constituted a kind of symbiosis, although, of course, not on equal terms. The Acropolis and especially the temple of

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the Parthenon are prime examples, having experienced long and pervasive use during the Christian Byzantine, Frankish, and Ottoman eras. In the modern Greek state, between 1834 and 1837, the Acropolis was stripped of its non-Hellenic, non-classical accretions, including the Christian ones. Being a symbolic and memorable space par excellence of Hellenic renewal, not only for modern Greek national identity but for the Western imagination as well, the Acropolis was expected to conform to everyone’s new dreams.89 Professional archaeologists, like the German Ludwig Ross (1806 – 59), the first general ephoros (curator) of antiquities in the Greek state, began unearthing the buried original. The re-Hellenization of the Acropolis thus became a “battle over social memory”; in other words, the process represented “a struggle for control over a highly memorable space.”90 The church raised no claims to the place, thus reinforcing Acropolis’s exclusive association with antiquity in the minds of modern Greeks, although no pagan celebrations take place there today. The history of modern Greece is full of examples of public attention to and reevaluation and upgrading of Greek Antiquity — such as when the provisional Greek government during the War of Independence issued a decree in 1826 for the protection of antiquities, or when the Archaeological Society was founded in 1837 in Athens. Usually underpinned by ideological motivations and political objectives, the development of archaeology in Greece was closely connected to the construction of modern Greek identity.91 The city of Athens, designated the new Greek capital in 1834, swam in a strong current of neoclassical nostalgia, coupled with a Western-oriented process of Europeanization.92 This influenced the architecture of the city from the 1830s up to the early twentieth century. Neoclassical architecture became the modern link to the past. West European architects contributed immensely to this, especially the Germans Friedrich Wilhelm von Gaertner (1791 – 1847), Leo von Klenze (1784 – 1864), and Ernst M. Th. Ziller (1837 – 1923) (the latter built more than nine hundred buildings in Athens, Piraeus, and other Greek cities);93 and the Danes Hans Christian (1803 – 83) and Theophil Edvard Hansen (1813 – 91); as well as the Greeks Stamatis Kleanthis (1802 – 62), Lysandros Kaftantzoglou (1811 – 85), and Anastasios Metaxas (1862 – 1937). Such neoclassical buildings include the current Presidential Palace; the Zappeion Exhibition Hall, with its Corinthian columns and colonnade of Caryatids; the Panathenaic Stadium; the National Archaeological Museum; the National Polytechnic University; the Ilion Melathron, today the Numismatics Museum, originally the house of Heinrich Schliemann

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(1822 – 90), the legendary amateur archaeologist; and a trio of neighboring monumental buildings, the National Library in a Doric style (with reproductions from the Erechtheion), the University of Athens, and the Academy of Athens. What is characteristic of modern Greece is that numerous aspects of the Hellenic religion found such a prominent place in the neoclassical current without leading to a revival of paganism. The elegant facades of these buildings were richly decorated with various pagan motifs, such as deities, demigods, Caryatids, Hercules, Medusa, griffins, swans, and cherubs. The neoclassical style triumphed in almost every neighborhood of Athens, whether in private or public space, and illustrates the degree to which Athenians of all stripes identified with the quest for ancient glory. Even after the neoclassical fervor died down a bit in the 1950s and many buildings were demolished, various marvelous structures stood proud. Characteristically, the Orthodox Church found a way to join the movement, commissioning the churches of Saint Irene and Saint Constantine in central Athens and also building the Metropolitan Cathedral of Athens between 1842 and 1862 in a neoclassical style. Indeed, the church took the stance that the neoclassical revival did not impinge on its tradition much at all. Everything happened within a predominantly Orthodox Christian frame. Greeks themselves well knew that adorning their houses with ancient Greek motifs and mythological scenes did not signify a belief in Greek deities and mythology. No doubt, this was not a religious gesture. They did this without renouncing their Orthodox Christian identity; rather, they simply sought a tangible connection to their ancestral past. The same was true with the pervasive presence of the Hellenic past, including the religious one, in the popular Greek imagination, which gave rise to numerous legends about the mythical and glorious Greek ancestors in many local variants.94 Although certainly the church was not completely in concert with all forms of this Hellenic revival in the modern Greek state, a rather peaceful coexistence between Hellenism and Christianity, usually in the context of the officially propagated Helleno-Christian synthesis, finally prevailed. The church was less than stellar, however, in successfully curbing popular religion in the modern Greek era. True, popular rituals took on a Christian character, but they still lingered in the troublesome shadow of the Hellenic religious past. At the same time, it is interesting to see how the church changed its traditional opposition to and general condemnation

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of popular religion. The need to integrate the Greek nation, its history, and its religious cultures has and still does dominate political and church discourses and strategies. The church reacts today in a somewhat reticent manner, except when the Hellenic aspects of a popular ritual threaten to undermine the overall Christian ritual frame or despoil its core Christian elements. But in most cases, the church’s attitude today is flexible, adaptive, tolerant, and non-legalistic, a practice that is prescribed by the principle of “economy” in its Canon Law (namely the liberal, non-strict, and relaxed application of church canons depending on the circumstances). For example, the boundaries between magical practices and Orthodox Christian beliefs are quite fluid and in many cases unclear. Even as the church condemns certain practices, it seldom takes countermeasures against them. It even now embraces practices (e.g., concerning the evil eye) that were once considered superstitious and non-Christian.95 In fact, the accepted intermingling of official and popular religion in Greece has had enormous social, cultural, and political impact. Furthermore, the church has made a great effort to transform popular symbols into official Christian ones, thus integrating popular religion more strongly into official church structure and practice than in earlier periods.96 The social significance of popular worship and religion in contemporary Greece is important because official religion is often unable to help extricate people from everyday problems and difficulties. Social anthropologist Charles Stewart observed this on the island of Naxos, where he examined widespread popular beliefs in demonic creatures and supernatural beings of all sorts (ogres, mermaids, vampires, water nymphs, and so on). These are believed to reside outside the physical and social boundaries of the local community, associated with unusual places, days, or hours and with transitional periods of life-cycle events. These beings probably have pre-Christian origins and are not part of the official Orthodox Christian doctrine but persist in popular Orthodox views about the devil and remain central in the moral cosmology of Naxiot Greeks. The intermingling of both traditions helps people resolve personal and social dilemmas that the official Orthodox Church alone cannot. Popular religion seems at times to be more effective than official religion in addressing problems of everyday existence, although both complement each other. Despite church criticism, Naxiot Greeks see nothing un-Christian in their beliefs and practices, which from their point of view form a single and unified tradition.97 Popular religion, customs, and practices took on special status in late

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nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Greece with the rise of the new discipline of folklore studies. A pioneer in this area was Nikolaos Politis (1852 – 1921), since 1882 professor of Greek mythology at the University of Athens and founder of the Greek Folklore Society in 1909. One of Politis’s aims was to pinpoint traditions, customs, and practices that demonstrated the continuity of the Greek people and culture across time. Consequently, this discipline and its ideology acquired “national significance.”98 This was quite instrumental in launching a counterattack on Fallmerayer’s theory about the lost racial purity of modern Greeks. As we have already seen, the continuity discourse influenced the development of other disciplines in Greece, most notably history. Regarding religion, one main argument was that Orthodox rituals derived from pagan ones. In a letter of 1901, Politis, a clear opponent of the Romeic tradition of the Greek people, wrote: “Our religion is called Christian, but it kept a lot from ancient Greek religion at its core.” He also added that “out of love and of conviction I am a Hellene as far as religion is concerned.”99 Although not with the same objectives, several foreign scholars attempted similar quests for Hellenic religious survivals in modern Greece.100 Aside from a few exceptions,101 most Greek and foreign scholars have meanwhile abandoned the “survival approach.” This did not signify the end of folklore studies but rather shifted their orientation. The main idea was to replace the idealized, romantic notion of uninterrupted, continuous Hellenism “with a more historical and concrete concept of the diachronic and inter-textual nature of Greek tradition,”102 as well as to free scholarly inquiries of Greek history from ideological and political objectives. Observed parallels between ancient and modern Greece did not automatically signify the concomitant survival of Hellenic elements across history. The exact historical reconstruction of such survivals remained difficult and the methods of the first folklorists were often a puzzle to historians and other scholars. Interest was thus more directed towards the “how” and “why” of the survival of various traditions (language, myths, metaphors, practices) in specific contexts from antiquity to the present, as well as the concrete processes that engendered them. It is widely accepted that many popular practices in all probability have pre-Christian origins, but the process by which they came about needs better exploration and historical foundation. Although reflecting an interest in the continuity of Greek life throughout the ages, the new approach represents another methodical angle, different from the older “survival approach.” Needless to

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Fig. 6.3. A male participant in the Anastenaria ritual (village of Agia Eleni, near Serres).

say, such connections and parallels are not limited to the realm of religion but also pertain to multiple areas of Greek life and experience.103 What is certain is that popular religion is a rich, colorful tapestry not doomed to wear out. It has survived long neglect under adverse conditions. The directives of the church simply failed to eradicate such enduring experiences, especially those that have been shared by families and communities and handed down through the generations. Sacrifice of animals, for one, was and is still practiced in Greece as part of local festivities (e.g., the three-day Festival of the Bull in Agia Paraskevi, Lesvos),104 even with the participation of Orthodox clerics, despite some rather weak church criticism.105 At the grassroots level, people practice religion in their own way yet still consider themselves loyal Orthodox Christians. We can best observe this in the widely known fire-walking ritual of northern Greece (in Langadas near Thessalonica or in Agia Eleni near Serres), the so-called Anastenaria (see fig. 6.3), practiced by Orthodox Christians in the Christian setting of the feast of Saints Constantine and

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Helen (May 21). In this particular case, the church has repeatedly expressed its outright disapproval of this pagan-like ritual. The Holy Synod’s encyclical no. 2565, issued on January 24, 1994, condemned all forms of Neopaganism, including the fire-walking ritual.106 The Holy Synod went on to denounce the fire-walking ritual specifically in encyclical no. 2598, issued June 19, 1995, following the admonitions of the local metropolitan of Langadas. The argument went that the people who practiced this ritual were also likely to commit other indecencies, thus scandalizing the faithful in these regions. The main church objection had to do with the pagan origins of the ritual and the dangers that they posed to participating Orthodox Christians. The local clerics were assigned the task of meting out appropriate penance to the wayward parishioners that they might repent and ask for God’s forgiveness and grace.107 The mid-1990s was not the first time that the church condemned Anastenaria on its own holy grounds.108 Yet social anthropologist Loring Danforth, who did fieldwork on this ritual, noted, “Although the Anastenaria is denounced by officials of the Greek Orthodox Church as a sacrilegious survival of pre-Christian idolatrous rites, it exists within the religious and cosmological context of the Orthodox Church itself and draws heavily on Orthodox symbolism, beliefs, and ritual practices.”109 In 1971, a Folklore Society was founded to assist the practitioners of the Anastenaria in their dealings with church and state. This initiative bore fruit when local and state officials began supporting this ritual tradition for many reasons (tourist, cultural, economic). More important, this ritual was situated in the context of Greek historical continuity and served “as a powerful symbol of Greek national identity.”110 Historically, the fire-walking ritual is believed to stem from orgiastic Dionysiac worship ceremonies. It includes particular ritual practices that are considered unacceptable to the church, such as animal sacrifice, ecstatic dancing with holy icons, and drunkenness and trance leading to moral transgressions.111 As in the past, the church remains suspicious of any pagan sparks that could reignite the populace. Even Freemasonry is thought to have pagan origins that render it incompatible with Christianity.112 This fire-walking ritual is surely not the only instance of pagan survival in modern Greece, so why does the church not openly and systematically condemn other popular rituals performed in other Greek areas? It probably has something to do with the exhibitionism of the fire-walking event. It is hard to ignore people stepping on burning coal of several hundred degrees

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Celsius in primal style. Curious onlookers coming from outside to observe do not seem one bit interested in the Christian constituents of the ritual. The fire-walking practices are the main attraction. Greek scholars like Anastasios Chourmouziadis and Polydoros Papachristodoulou have argued that the fire-walking ritual is actually fully “Christianized,” and hence church reservations about it are unfounded. This and other rituals are also thought to prove the Greekness of the ethnically contested geographical areas of Macedonia and Thrace. Interestingly enough, even Orthodox clerics may take part in the fire-walking ritual, sprinkling holy water on the animal that will eventually be sacrificed.113 Clerical participation, however, does little to placate the church; in fact, the church may even be alarmed to know that its shepherds assist in the survival of elements of paganism. The church is quite selective in its choice of Hellenic components, as we know, and such a ritual is deemed to be a priori problematic. But it recognizes that its laments cannot eradicate these deeply rooted and long-lived popular traditions. One thing is sure: the Anastenaria will not be abandoned due to official church admonitions or prohibitions. There are, in addition, numerous other popular rituals and customs of possibly pagan origins in modern Greece that take place throughout the year, usually in non-Christian settings.114 Although not as outspokenly as in the case of the Anastenaria, the church maintains a negative stance toward these and distances itself from them — and, predictably, has been unsuccessful in suppressing them. The most obvious case is the Carnival that includes the celebrations that take place over the “twelve days” of Christmas and before the beginning of Lent (the long fasting period before Easter). Mumming plays and performances have a long history in various parts of Greece and have been commonly associated with the worship of Dionysus.115 Carnival, in its various local manifestations, is an important contemporary social event, with parades and large-scale celebrations enjoying the support of many municipal and local authorities. It is also quite popular. Today it has basically a mocking and satirical character. The ridiculing of authorities, conventional ethics and standards, and numerous aspects of everyday life provides citizens with a sense of catharsis. It enables temporary liberty from prohibitions, submission to officialdom, social hypocrisy, deprivation syndromes, guilt, shame, and a humdrum, conventional lifestyle. It is also a celebration of nature and instinctive behavior, a move away from socially determined and accepted patterns. No wonder the church, with its somewhat confining demands, is

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reluctant to permit Carnival and remains adamant in its position of condemnation. At the same time, numerous Orthodox Greeks merrily participate in Carnival with a clear conscience. One particular Carnival-related incident of interest is the case of Domna Samiou (b. 1928), a well-known singer of traditional Greek popular music. Her 1995 double album, Carnival Songs — Profane Sacred, included popular songs from different parts of Greece where the Carnival tradition is particularly strong — Kozani, Drymos (Elasson), and Tyrnavos. A concert of her songs organized in the Music Hall of Thessalonica in 2003 and broadcast on state television brought down the wrath of a church cantor, who sued Samiou for distributing these works. He charged that the songs were obscene, vulgar, licentious, pornographic, totally inappropriate for the general Greek public, and especially harmful to the moral education of youth. His lawsuit caused massive reactions from the artistic, cultural, and political communities of the country, as well as statements from independent organizations, decrying the priggishness and puritanical ethos of our times. Carnival songs ought not be judged, so they argued, on the basis of strict moral Christian criteria. This kind of “looseness of tongue” should be thus distinguished from everyday pornography, vulgarity, and obscenity.116 Yet Archbishop Christodoulos wrote the litigant, offering him his support and sanctioning his legitimate reaction on moral grounds. The archbishop opined that the ideals and language of Samiou’s songs were totally incongruent with the ethos, human self-respect, and higher values that promote Greece as a standard-bearer of “Helleno-Christian Civilization” worldwide.117 The foregoing examples illustrate the multiple ways that Hellenic and Christian traditions coexist, mix, or fuse in modern Greece. Needless to say, there are even more examples to be found in many domains, such as in contemporary travel literature about Greece, abundant in every bookstore, library, and travel agency. The range of pre- or post-fusion elements includes the use of Hellenic names rather than Christian ones, constant references to ancient tales and mythology, working out to replicate the ideal “Greek god” body, old Greek recipes and banquets, and on and on. Conversely, the church is firmly centered in daily life. The question of how Hellenism and Christianity came together and come ever closer still is not of great interest to the man or woman on the street. Theirs is a more practical assemblage of Hellenic-Christian elements, a case-by-case bricolage. To be quite frank, although a number of modern Greeks might sense that

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their beliefs are not in full agreement with church doctrines, this does not lead them to abandon such beliefs.118 That would be throwing the baby — their cultural consciousness, awareness, and knowledge — out with the bathwater. This “double nature” is thus more connected to individual preferences beyond the church’s prescriptions. Those internal, distinctive, and even particular dictates regarding Hellenism and Christianity will occupy us in the next and last chapter. Let me close by relating the observations of contemporary Greek archaeologist Yiannis Sakellarakis. Quite familiar with Minoan and Hellenic religion, he has commented on the diachronic connections linking Hellenism and Christianity in Greece at numerous levels. When he sees a baby with an evil eye charm, he wrote, he is reminded immediately of the many amulets that he has uncovered in his excavations. When he holds in his hands an ancient figurine of the children-rearing goddess, he sees its stark resemblance to the icon of the Mother of God holding Jesus Christ in her hands. When he visits the Byzantine and Christian Museum in Athens and sees the icon of Saint Christopher the Cynocephalus, he conjures up similar images of Creto-Mycenaean demons. The same patterns of religious practice seem to have repeated themselves timelessly on the Greek landscape — as in the Idaion Cave in the Rethymno province (Crete) that Sakellarakis has excavated to discover a sacred place where mystery cults had been practiced in antiquity. It is reminiscent of Cretan shepherds today, trudging from different regions to gather there for the Feast of the Ascension. This Feast, “the most mystical one in Orthodoxy,” is held in a Christian church near the Idaion Cave and features offerings of drink and food to honor the tombs of two patriots buried in the churchyard. This is why Sakellarakis sees his profession and hobby of archaeology as a “higher calling,” writing, “I am a hunter of the mystical continuity of this place.”119

7 Individuality, Distinctiveness, Idiosyncrasy If, my Christ, you should wish to exempt any of the pagans from your threats, choose for me Plato and Plutarch. For both these in thought and deed showed how very near they were to your laws. They may not have known that you are the God of all, but this is only a further claim on your mercy, the gift through which you desire to save all men. — John Mauropous, metropolitan of Euchaita1

So spoke John Mauropous, an eleventh-century Christian bishop in Byzantium. His was the plea of a learned individual Christian on behalf of two sages of Greek Antiquity, Plato and Plutarch, so that Christ might show mercy on them and save them. A few centuries later, another Byzantine intellectual and polymath, Nikephoros Gregoras (1290/94 – 1358/61), found the “divine Plato” to be so much in accord with the Bible that he could be accounted as Orthodox Christian.2 This kind of selective choice of seminal figures from the ancient Greek world characterized a number of Christian thinkers from the time of the early Christian Apologists onward. These appropriations of Greek Antiquity were never uniform or identical yet did hint at similarity and parallelism. This is largely because it was individual Christians who initiated specific strands of thought and related strategies, depending on different sociohistorical circumstances and epochs. Each individual thus bore a distinctive character of his or her own, even while being part of a long chain of similar ideas and attempts that stretched through history. The same happened when individual thinkers flirted in their own particular way both with Hellenism and Christianity.

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This final chapter is meant to focus our attention on a mode of interaction linking Hellenism and Christianity that is most “personal.” First, it is about various attempts clearly bearing signs of individuality; in these cases, individuals take positions based on a privately held system of ideas, usually not found among others. As a consequence, such individual cases show a degree of distinctiveness. They are closely tied to the biographies and particularities of their initiators and, in this respect, are relatively unique. A few of the attempts to correlate Hellenism and Christianity also display signs of outright idiosyncrasy. In these instances, ideas or systems go beyond individuality to some degree of “deviation” from established norms of thought or action. Occasionally, an idea originally formulated on a personal level may become a “rule” shared by other followers or cothinkers. Not surprisingly, ideas usually undergo reformulation in the hands of the successor, who reworks the concept in an altered context of time or place. In other words, the older idea bears the imprimatur of the new master. Although often “peculiar,” the cases I am about to relate are yet normal in view of the basic premises of this concise history. In fact, all four modes of interaction between Hellenism and Christianity are deeply embedded not only in socio-cultural contexts and institutional structures but also in the individual opinions and decisions of specific actors. These actors have left their personal stamp on the mutual relations between old and new religious culture, only now in retrospect so discernible. We have already witnessed some degree of individuality, distinctiveness, and idiosyncrasy elsewhere in the book. What is of more interest in this final chapter, however, are the outliers, the more “unusual cases” that, although rare, offer another glimpse of the diachronic relationship between Hellenism and Christianity. The scholarly study of religions today accords special recognition to their individual side. The institutional, communal, and public aspects of religions represent only one side of the coin, the other being the personal, private, and individual forms of religious life. The world witnesses today, perhaps more intensely than before, the rise of religious individualism with far-reaching consequences for religious institutions. People have become more assertive, preferring to be religious in their own way, no matter what the institutional church or other authorities have to say about their habits and customs. To be frank, religious institutions have already begun to treat those who “deviate” with greater tolerance and flexibility than in the past. People sense that they have more freedom. They are free

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to create a particular worldview, follow practices that express and satisfy them better, and think more individually and less collectively. This can happen without breaking from their religious institution and superiors. In turn, the institution does not have to officially endorse these individual preferences yet retains such persons in its flock. Although very accentuated nowadays, such a phenomenon is not a contemporary one alone. To some extent, other centuries have fared tolerably well with individual expression of religion. Indeed, as already indicated, we can observe a great deal of continuity in the way that individuals were religious in a Hellenic and a Christian context. We see this in the domain of popular piety as many people made the transition from paganism to Christianity.3 Worshippers drew on the symbols of votive offerings and amulets present in both religious cultures (e.g., for apotropaic purposes), despite occasional criticism from Christian authorities.4 In addition, the way that contemporary Greek Orthodox express religious feelings on a personal level is somewhat analogous to polytheistic practices (e.g., similar attitudes toward Christian saints and Hellenic deities, and “magical” views on the intervention of divine power to resolve individual problems). The simultaneous critique of and appeal to the divine world is also common to both. A contemporary Greek classical scholar reported witnessing, as a child, his Orthodox grandmother reciting evening prayers. Aside from the usual Our Father sort, his grandmother gave a lengthy account of her everyday life, her problems and dealings with other people. She asked for the assistance of God, the archangel Michael, and various local saints like Saint George of Kromni (Kurum, Pontus) to fulfill her wish list of needs. She also asked explicitly for the punishment of her adversaries. In so doing she exhibited a familiarity with the divine world, a presumed closeness that would directly influence daily matters, even trivial ones. Was this unusual? Perhaps not. The scholar found the whole scene reminiscent of the human treatment of deities described in Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey.5 The focus in this chapter is less on continuity — this pertained more to the area of popular religious practices, as we have seen before — and more on how individuals appropriated Hellenism and Christianity (but with some attention to the practical history-making consequences of their efforts). More specifically, we are not interested in all forms of individual religiosity or treatment of Hellenism and Christianity. Rather, our interest turns more to intellectual, artistic, and other attempts formulated on an individual level in appropriating Hellenism and Christianity. For

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example, many Byzantines or modern Greeks who articulated their own views were usually well educated and in a position to reflect on both religious cultures. Some of their opinions were made public through publications or teaching activities yet — being at times strongly personal — never captured mass social acceptance. Some views were not disclosed until after their promoters’ and authors’ deaths. The lack of broad social appeal can also be attributed to the elitist character of many such ideas, confining them to a narrow circle of people; also, many were sufficiently idiosyncratic to render them unattractive to a wider public. The lack of popular support, however, did not stop religious authorities from feeling obliged to put a halt to potentially dangerous “rumblings” and penalize their instigators. Just as the church was essentially powerless to control popular religious practices, it has long had difficulties curbing individual notions and preferences. Neither bans, nor threats of excommunication, nor other means of strict control gave institutional authorities the key to the operation of people’s minds. Individually professed ideas and systems of thought have proved maddeningly elusive and beyond any strict control. It is exactly the avoidance of doctrinal rigidity and the freedom to experiment and innovate that render such endeavors particularly attractive and promising for individual persons. So, in a way, this chapter is a continuation of the previous one: there the emphasis was on practices that deviated from acceptable standards; here the emphasis is more on the realm of ideas, belief systems, art, and other expressions formulated on a personal basis and deviating differentially (weakly to strongly) from normatively set patterns and rules. By this I mean that we find instances where individuals hoed their own middle row between Hellenism and Christianity; in semi-contrast, we find converts to Christianity who remained deeply attached to pagan traditions and expressed their related feelings. Such variability causes us to reflect on the true nature of conversion and the ongoing oscillation between the two religious cultures. All epochs of Greek history witnessed those “oddballs” who saw the interstices between Hellenism and Christianity in another prism than did the church hierarchy, political authorities, leading societal circles, or the general public. What is also very interesting is that the spectrum of interaction that defines individuality-distinctiveness-idiosyncrasy was an undertaking of both pagans and Christians. There were many who remained “undecided” and flitted from side to side. The biography of each particular actor may shed light on understanding the various individual

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appropriations of Hellenism and Christianity. The course of religious culture is, as always, fluid, overflowing its “intended” banks.

The Ancient Period (up to 330 CE) Distinct, idiosyncratic opinions about Hellenism and Christianity were already at play when Christianity began its first expansion and sought social recognition and support. It was also a time when early Christian thinkers were at pains to show that the new monotheistic religion was no threat whatever to the Roman Empire and its political institutions.6 Christians were the ones who benefited the most from proselytizing the new religion in the surrounding pagan world. Pagans took mild notice but maintained a great deal of neutrality, if not amusement or disdain, toward the “upstarts.” On an individual basis, various “unofficial” and personal forms of interaction between Hellenism and Christianity are still traceable in this early phase. This pertained not only to the realm of practices, as we have seen in the previous chapter, but also to that of beliefs and ideas. Information from surviving inscriptions sheds enough light on these individual trajectories, although the reconstruction of the exact social setting is mostly conjectural. We witness, for example, a convergence in religious vocabulary between Christians and pagans, other parallels in various areas (eschatological ideas, narratives of healing miracles, confession of sins), and several forms of interpenetration of religious ideas. All this reflects the varieties of individual quests and beliefs that were articulated in the early phase of the encounter between Hellenism and Christianity. This phenomenon would intensify during Late Antiquity, especially regarding the belief in an “almighty god,” found in both religious cultures. After all, individuals asked the same questions about life and death, whether in a pagan, Christian, or in-between context.7 As the doctrines and structures of Christianity were neither fully developed nor well stabilized in this early phase, we would normally expect individual and idiosyncratic interpretations to flourish. The various trajectories within early Christianity, namely the “many Christianities” depending on numerous local contexts beyond Palestine, attest to this.8 They led to diversity in theology and practice, as well to a flexible boundary creation. Apostle Paul’s letters to the Christian communities that he had founded, including those in Greece, make clear the particularities of each locality, its specific problems, and its own way of assimilating the

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new religious message.9 On a different bent, such a variety traditionally characterized pagan polytheism, which represented an exceptionally rich, diverse, and plural religious culture. Within such a context, individual religious quests and concomitant preferences were usually more than allowed. This contributed to an increasing individualization of religious experience and appearance of novel, if not idiosyncratic, religious ideas and forms of devotion.10 Christians of the second and third centuries also charted individual trajectories as they sought to appropriate Hellenism selectively and make their religion intellectually “attractive” to the culture in which they lived. One of these was the earlier-mentioned Origen, whose magisterial attempt to integrate Platonic elements in his Christian worldview was a ploy for rendering the new “package deal” palatable to pagan intellectuals. Seen in retrospect, it was clearly an individual endeavor that remained influential later on, but perhaps not in the way that Origen intended. Although a convinced Christian, his Platonic presuppositions were quite strong. Platonic idealism’s disrespect for material things and longing for eternity were at the heart of his system. God was put at the center of the spiritual and eternal world, accessible to the soul when liberated from bodily imprisonment after death. His particular amalgamation of Christianity with Platonism did not reflect distrust of the Bible as the word of God. Rather, he constantly reworked Christian notions through Platonic philosophical premises. His blending of Christianity with Platonism, coupled with his idealism, led him to a thoroughly spiritualized view of Christianity, which went hand in hand with the eternal creative power of God and the need to devalue the decadent material world. His support of the allegorical method of Biblical interpretation, as opposed to literal exegesis, reflects the stance that he adopted. In the end, Platonic dualism permeated many fundamental aspects of Origen’s theological thinking, leading him to formulate ideas that the church found erroneous. As already seen, the Cappadocian Church Fathers also used Platonism for Christian purposes, but with other presuppositions and criteria than Origen. His individual trajectory failed to become mainstream and was later condemned, whereas Cappadocian theology, whose promoters had their own individual features as well, became an integral part of Christian Orthodoxy. It is worth mentioning that pagans who came into contact with the Jewish-Christian tradition occasionally formulated their own “unconventional” views. One of these was Numenius of Apamea, a Neo-Pythagorean

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philosopher from the end of the second century and a precursor of Neoplatonism. He was familiar with Judaism and Christianity and influenced by both without identifying with either. Trying to trace Greek philosophy back to very early sources, Numenius even supported the idea that Greek philosophers depended on the Old Testament, calling Plato an “atticizing Moses” (i.e., a Moses who spoke Attic Greek).11 Theologically, Numenius reworked and integrated Platonic and Jewish-Christian influences into his own philosophy. His concept of God bore some resemblance to the Christian view of the Trinity, which probably explains why Origen and Eusebius of Caesarea thought highly of him.12 Idiosyncratic interactions between Hellenism and Christianity did not appear in the realm of ideas alone. As a new and expanding religion, Christianity attracted pagans into its ranks who had diverse motives and led “peculiar” lives, even after their conversion. Such an eccentric personality must have been Peregrinus Proteus (ca. 100 – 165), a Cynic philosopher from Parium in Mysia, whose life has been satirically recorded by Lucian of Samosata.13 Having visited Palestine, he familiarized himself with Christianity, its writings, and its adherents living there, and quickly developed a remarkable zeal for the Christian cause. This must have happened between 120 and 140. Peregrinus managed to attract the wide admiration of many Christians, not only as a prophet, interpreter, and writer but also due to his imprisonment because of his Christian convictions by the governor of Syria. But in all probability he did this for his own vanity, seeking to attract attention and achieve publicity. Lucian supports the view that he was an imposter who took advantage of the new religion to become rich. After being released from prison, Peregrinus’s deviant way of life made him such a target of Christian suspicion that he was eventually expelled from the Christian communities when he was caught eating sacrificial meat. His subsequent wanderings were an extension of his idiosyncratic way of life and urge to achieve notoriety. This need reached a dramatic climax when he announced and carried out self-immolation at the Olympic Games in Olympia of 165, an event witnessed by Lucian. Lucian himself was a highly critical spirit with a tendency to ridicule philosophical and religious systems. He did the same with Christianity, considering its followers, the worshippers of a “crucified sophist,” “poorbeggars” and “simple-minded people.” Their fanatical persuasions and obstinacy, he thought, precluded any reasonable, critical discussion. As a result, he felt that they could be easily cheated. Yet Lucian’s information on Christianity and its followers should be handled with caution because

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they did not constitute his main focus. Be that as it may, it is true that he became familiar enough with the new religion, possibly through his numerous travels.14 His account of Peregrinus’s life, even if it is not to be fully trusted, offers a glimpse of the individual and idiosyncratic trajectories followed by some converts in the ranks of the early Christian movement.

The Byzantine Period ( from 330 to 1453) As we know, the transition from paganism to Christianity was a gradual one. This means that there was a long time when both coexisted in similar constellations and interacted mutually. The era of Late Antiquity, as a crucial bridge period, is particularly rich and illuminating, and has therefore attracted enormous scholarly attention in recent decades. Let us begin with the pagan world, which was going through a difficult phase in an inimical Christian environment. Only lately have scholars paid more systematic attention to an unusual phenomenon called “pagan monotheism.” This may seem to be a contradiction in terms, given that paganism was basically polytheistic. Yet during this period, pagan intellectuals did indeed engage in discourse of a “monotheistic character.” As already mentioned, all these terms should not be understood in a strict and mutually exclusive way. Overlap was in many instances the rule. But we have to keep in mind that Christian discourse about paganism was largely negative in the extreme. As a result, Christians often overlooked the monotheistic threads than ran through the cloth of Hellenism (Paul’s speech on the Areopagus being an exception). In fact, there were signs of dissatisfaction among philosophically educated pagans regarding their polytheism. They were looking for a “first thinking principle” with the possible existence of a single will or plan behind the existence and preservation of the world. Pagan monotheism thus requires a reassessment of the traditional divide between polytheism and monotheism. It forces scholars to revise what happened with the advent of Christianity and how the subsequent transition progressed. Pagan monotheism is often relegated to the sidelines, seen as an anomalous bloom that flourished in Late Antiquity, only to quickly wither. Philosophically, paganism has actually and consistently supported the idea of a single, personal, sentient God behind all beings, one who cared for the world and on whom all minor deities depended.

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This idea crops up repeatedly in Peripatetic philosophy, Platonism, and Stoicism. Plato’s Timaeus clearly supports this brand of monotheism; the idea of a single God in two, three, or more hypostases also later dominated Neoplatonism.15 Was pagan monotheism generated under the influence of Christianity? Certainly not, if we consider its pre-Christian background. Characteristically, pagan critics of Christianity like Celsus and Porphyry opined that the new religion was not as monotheistic as its proponents claimed and even less monotheistic than some forms of paganism.16 Two eminent Neoplatonists from the Athens Academy, Proclus (410/12 – 485) and Damascius (ca. 460 – after 538), each in his own way supported the idea of pagan monotheism and postulated God’s absolute transcendence and the inability of the human mind to grasp all that lies beyond reality. They taught and wrote at a time when Christian theology had already evolved considerably, but they differentiated their own views from that religious discourse. Damascius, for example, alluded to the Christian principle of unity and trinity simultaneously in God. He himself saw no single principle, nor three, nor three in one; these were distinctions constructed by the human mind rather than knowable truths, which were beyond noetic grasp and all Being.17 It becomes obvious that pagan and Christian monotheism were not identical and, from a certain point on, developed along parallel paths with only occasional points of intersection. The twin branches of pagan-Christian monotheism extended into the realm of cultic practice as well. Gregory of Nazianzus, for example, sought to distinguish Christian monotheism from the cult of the Supreme God and its pagan practitioners (Ὑψιστιανοί), including his own father, who later converted to Christianity.18 This cult was widespread from Hellenistic times up to the fifth century, especially in Asia Minor among ordinary people. There is ample epigraphic evidence to show that this kind of pagan monotheism was not an elitist philosophical construct that had no bearing on the masses.19 Such a condition may have facilitated conversions to Christian monotheism. In contrast, it might also have motivated pagan intellectuals to gravitate toward the monotheistic components of their own system. The Neoplatonic philosopher Olympiodorus of Alexandria (ca. 500 – after 564/65) claimed that he and his fellow pagans were basically monotheists because they believed in one first principle and in one ultimate cause of everything.20 In general, there is little reason to call the monotheistic elements of paganism into question. No doubt, they did not represent the polytheistic

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mainstream and often exhibited a distinctive or even idiosyncratic character. But they developed autonomously and in a variety of forms that were fully compatible with the traditional polytheistic mythology and religion, which predominated among the common people early on in the Byzantine era. Pagan monotheism coexisted comfortably with the traditional polytheistic culture and social structures. It seldom rubbed against the pagan world except, perhaps, to distance itself from cruder or more vulgar polytheistic beliefs. Thus, most eminent pagans with monotheistic leanings remained quite unconvinced by the particular Christian monotheism and its exclusive claims on divine revelation and religious truth. Religious identities during Late Antiquity were rather fluid in many respects and additionally could become misleading as regards what it meant to convert to Christianity. Crypto-paganism must have been a useful option for those seeking to remain attached to the old religious culture yet avoid persecution. As already often indicated, paganism and Christianity were not mutually exclusive in Late Antiquity. In many cases, we cannot ascertain whether a person was a pagan or a Christian, for they seem to have lived in both worlds. Such is the case of the Alexandrian poet and grammarian Palladas (second half of the fourth century), whose verses include both Christian and pagan elements. He probably stayed undecided between the two worlds, both of which left him unsatisfied.21 Individual trajectories were quite normal in the overall relations between paganism and Christianity. We thus have isolated cases of pagans converting to Christianity yet returning later to paganism (the rhetorician Apollodorus), as well as pagans who freely converted to Christianity after an initial period of doubt and hesitation (Paralios of Aphrodisias).22 Needless to say, there were also various individual, independent attempts to synthesize Christianity and classical thought, such as the Christianization of Aristotelian philosophy by the philosopher, theologian, and scientist John Philoponus (ca. 490 – ca. 570). Although Philoponus broke with the Aristotelian tradition in many respects, his particular theological views on Trinity and Christology did not meet with the church’s approval and were later condemned.23 In many ways, numerous Christian converts remained bound to their pagan past; thus we cannot ascertain the real motives of their conversion or the reasons behind their apparent oscillation between Hellenism and Christianity. This seems to have been the case with Synesios (ca. 370 – 413), an erudite philosopher and orator born in Cyrene to an affluent family of

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Greek origin. His education in Alexandria under the famous philosopher Hypatia left him an ardent Neoplatonist, well versed in the pagan world and its teachings. As a statesman, he also traveled to Constantinople to help alleviate his native province from heavy taxation. There is indirect evidence that he converted to Christianity in Alexandria, where Patriarch Theophilos (385 – 412) — who, incidentally, had initiated the destruction of the pagan temple Serapeum in 391 — presided over Synesios’s Christian wedding. Synesios’s popularity led his compatriots to elect him to the episcopate in 410. He finally accepted the office without, however, sacrificing his philosophical convictions or giving up his marriage, thus mediating a position between the needs of his Christian congregation and his own intellectual honesty. His Hymns include a lot of Neoplatonic contemplation, whereas the homilies he addressed to the Christian believers were more attuned to their needs. In addition, Synesios’s numerous letters reveal not only the social and intellectual climate of his era but also his own idiosyncratic mixture and accommodation of Neoplatonism and Christianity. He was thus always regarded as an ambivalent and paradoxical figure,24 although more recent research tries to completely reassess many of the above assumptions by arguing that he had been Christian since his childhood and that he did not really experience any serious tension between Hellenism and Christianity.25 Another idiosyncratic attempt to correlate Hellenism and Christianity was undertaken by the Greek epic poet Nonnus (first half of the fifth century), born in Panopolis (Egypt), a man who possessed a thorough knowledge of ancient Greek education and culture. He is best known for his Dionysiaca, an enormous epic in forty-eight hexameter volumes about the god Dionysus and his adventures, described in exquisite language, dense style, and rich detail. He presented Dionysus as a gallant world traveler, defeating his enemies and bringing salvation to all suffering peoples. His other major work was a hexametric paraphrase of the Gospel of John, composed in an excessive bombastic style. Certainly, Nonnus put his literary skills to the service of the new religion, but it is questionable whether his paraphrase enjoyed great readership among Christians. It has been commonly assumed that Nonnus had converted to Christianity after completing the Dionysiaca. Yet his Gospel paraphrase, a later work, is metrically inferior, which makes little sense. It might thus be possible that he had composed the Dionysiaca already being a Christian, for it was not unusual for learned Christians to delve deep into the pagan traditions.26 If

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this hypothesis is correct, Nonnus’s individual trajectory is one that might be expected from the still-fluid transition period of Late Antiquity. The sixth century is also particularly interesting because it marks the “official end” of the pagan world under Emperor Justinian I. His reign saw many measures against pagans who held high positions in administration or education. Certainly, the era did not fully dispel pagan orientations among the Byzantine social and intellectual elite. I am not referring here to practical paganism, as in the previous chapter, but to intellectual paganism. In fact, we can talk of the existence of a real anti-Christian, pagan counterculture in Byzantium, which Byzantinist Anthony Kaldellis has tried to bring to light in numerous studies.27 More than the mere flirting with the pagan stuff from previous epochs and the selective attachment to pagan traditions, either in a Christian context or not, this phenomenon included the classical astuteness, the forging of a new Hellenic identity, and a Platonic outlook. Many influential people still dallied in paganism while adhering “officially” to Christian Orthodoxy. Existing textual evidence leads us to suppose that such people had formed individual systems of esoteric nature that fitted into both cultures. That they could get away with only a superficial or nominal attachment to Christianity was a plausible scenario in the days of Late Antiquity. Still, in all probability, threats of state penalty or public discrimination forced them to conceal their pagan leanings. We surmise that such was the case for John Lydus (490 – ca. 565), a writer and middle-level functionary in the Praetorian Prefecture of Constantinople. He served his post until his retirement in 551/52. Afterward, he dealt with many topics pertaining to the old pagan tradition, especially that of Rome, without any reference to Christianity. Lydus never got into trouble for his pagan, bizarre, and occult interests during his lifetime. But he was later suspected of being a pagan by Patriarch Photios, for he neither says that he was a Christian nor indicates belief in Christianity in his many writings, which belong to the category of antiquarianism, namely the collection of all possible data about the past without historiographical interest. His work On the Months was devoted to vivid descriptions of antique festivals throughout the year and demonstrated his remarkable familiarity with pagan literature. In another work, On Portents, he delved into the topic of astrology and pagan divination. His third work, On the Magistracies, compared the past Roman glory with his era and offered a cyclical scheme for restoration. “Lydus’ silence on Christian matters speaks loudly against a confidently Christian view of history and society,”

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which is why “he created an illusion of a lovely past.”28 Such an option, however, presented a dead end under Emperor Justinian I. The oscillation between paganism and Christianity was a trademark of those who traveled in diverse literary circles, a place where classical tradition was highly valued and constantly in motion. This is not a surprising result to have found among persons with excellent classical educations. The poetic and literary circle that gathered around Agathias Scholasticus and Paul the Silentiary is a case in point.29 Agathias of Myrina (ca. 532 – ca. 580) had a keen interest in Greek literature and composed elegant poems and epigrams, usually involving erotic themes. He eagerly employed ancient metric techniques and language. He also reedited an older collection of poems and epigrams known by the title Greek Anthology or Palatine Anthology. Agathias added his own epigrams and classified the collection’s contents thematically. His literary output, his interests, and his topics showed how fond Agathias was of the Greek literary tradition, and he seems to have genuinely lamented its decline (e.g., the closing of the Athens Academy in 529).30 It has been argued that Agathias intended to write as a Christian in an era when the Byzantine culture as a whole was integrated through enhanced Christianization.31 But recent studies reveal his overall orientation and intellectual setting as being non-Christian.32 It is thus possible that he succeeded in cloaking himself in a “Christian facade.” Otherwise, he might not have survived an environment so inhospitable to the dwindling population of sixth-century pagans. Agathias’s friend Paul the Silentiary (d. 575/80), a man of wealth and aristocratic background, held office in the Great Palace in Constantinople and was immensely interested in Greek literature. He is known for his hymn in hexameters and elegant verse extolling the magnificence of the church of Hagia Sophia in Constantinople, completed by Justinian I in 562. His poem is a testimony to the integration of religious and secular elements in sixth-century Byzantium, and thus “unique in its adaptation of Christian elements to a Hellenic mould.”33 Like Agathias, Paul also composed pagan epigrams on erotic and other themes that appeared in the revised Greek Anthology. Their partially parallel literary trajectories suggest that Agathias and Paul followed their own private and individual way when it came to relating Hellenism with Christianity. As already mentioned, the mere survival of ancient Greek literature in Byzantium contributed indirectly to the survival of paganism as well. It was a bit like the grain of sand in an oyster, an irritant that would eventually become a pearl. While not directly related to cultic behavior, the

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Greek literary corpus harked back to an elapsed, indeed mythical, culture that held its attractions in the fray of competing Christian works. Byzantine citizens of intellect could not let Hellenism or its pagan reminders fall into oblivion. The aforementioned Greek Anthology was one of these enduring works. Compiled first by the Sophist and poet Meleager of Gadara around 60 BCE, it was popular then and in later editions during Greco-Roman and Byzantine times. Constantine Cephalas revised it (a comprehensive edition) in the tenth century during a revival of classical learning. His Anthology included mostly pagan, but also Christian, poems and epigrams. Such juxtaposition was rather unusual, given that the collection’s homoerotic poetry and satirical epigrams of pagan flavor were hardly compatible with Christian orientations and moral values. This probably explains why Maximos Planudes, a fourteenth-century monk, expunged such stuff from the earlier work and inserted his own more reverent verses. The fact that he left in descriptions of pagan statues and inscriptions found in ancient sites is important — it served to keep an image of the elapsed past in the minds of the Anthology’s readers. Planudes also included material written by pagan critics of Christianity.34 I say all this just to emphasize the extent to which the “ether” of Hellenic religious sentiment pervaded, even indirectly, the Byzantine era. The history of the mid-to-late Byzantine period witnessed the ongoing tandem journey of Hellenism and Christianity. We see this in the views of John Mauropous (ca. 1000 – after 1070), a poet-orator-teacher steeped in classical literature, and his pupils, the most famous being Michael Psellos. Mauropous was also part of the literary circle that Emperor Constantine IX Monomachos (r. 1042 – 55) had created, working as court orator before falling into disfavor. He composed a variety of religious and secular works, including epigrams that document the breadth of his classical learning.35 Mauropous may have been foolhardy to talk as positively as he did about Plato and Plutarch at a time when professing Hellenic doctrines could bring swift retribution, which is what happened to previously mentioned John Italos, condemned at the end of the eleventh century. The role of Michael Psellos (1018 – after 1081), Italos’s teacher, is particularly noteworthy. His trajectory was two-pronged, split between his love for Classical Antiquity and his Christian convictions.36 Although he entered monastic life and stayed within the bounds of Christian formality, this was not his foremost vocation. The breadth of his interests and writings — from scientific, historical, and philosophical to rhetorical, satirical,

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and epigrammatic — far exceeded narrow Christian interests. Psellos was a polymath whose talents brought him to the imperial court as an adviser. He also served as head professor at the Academy of Constantinople, known as the Consul of the Philosophers thanks to his thorough knowledge of Greek philosophy. He saw to the revival of Platonic and Neoplatonic philosophy. Psellos’s admiration for ancient Greece, its culture, and its literature was immense. Naturally, this set off an alarm. We have earlier mentioned his conflict with Patriarch Michael I Keroullarios, who forced him to give a creed of his Orthodox faith. Later on, even his colleague and friend John Xiphilinos, also patriarch of Constantinople (1063 – 75), reproached Psellos for deviating from Orthodoxy and adhering more to Plato and his Academy than to God. Psellos’s defense made clear that he was fond of Plato and his philosophy, although only to a certain degree. He recognized that some Platonic ideas were problematic yet others could be perfectly combined with Christian doctrine. He was critical of Hellenic polytheism and knew well the differences between Hellenic and Christian doctrines.37 Basically, Psellos placed himself in the long line of synthesizers of Christian and Platonic ideas for the sake of the church — he particularly admired Gregory of Nazianzus. He added that the church did not prohibit the use of syllogisms; rather, this was the “standard philosophical procedure” for attaining truth and solving dilemmas.38 He was agreeable to setting limits on the uncritical use of syllogisms in the realm of divine revelation, which finally led to his acquittal. Suspicions about him might have also been raised because of his unconcealed and lively interest in pagan morals, rituals, means of foretelling the future, and traditions, such as his studies of the Chaldaean Oracles, attributed to a certain Julian the Theurgist. He also read Proclus, whom he seemed to have admired immensely.39 Psellos’s involvement with the pagan traditions was an uncommon one and certainly different from the traditional Christian strategy of selectively appropriating Hellenism. Despite his public profession of faith, it is likely that his attachment to Christianity remained idiosyncratic, coupled with his strong humanist and philosophical engagement with Hellenism. For example, his Chronographia was critical of and even satirized some Byzantine Christian beliefs and morals. Although it is not known if he renounced it in the end, his Christian identity, whatever it was, was a very personal one, in which ancient Greek philosophy and culture as autonomous entities played a crucial role.40

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Fig. 7.1. Cristofano dell’Altissimo (di Papi), Georgios Gemistos-Plethon (oil painting on wood, ca. 1570, Florence, Galleria degli Uffici). The inscription “Plato” on the upper part probably alludes to Plethon’s immense admiration of Plato, for which he was generally known at that time beyond the Byzantine Empire (from Linos G. Benakis, Βυζαντινὴ φιλοσοφία, Athens: Parousia, 2002, 603).

The occasional rapprochement of the Christian with the Platonic or Neoplatonic was, indeed, a double-edged sword. Such ideas always threatened to develop independently or even turn on church doctrine. The philosopher Georgios Gemistos-Plethon (ca. 1360 – 1452/54) is an individual well worth examining in this context (see fig. 7.1). He became notorious

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for boldly attempting to revive Hellenism — in the full sense, including the belief and cultic system of the Hellenic religion — unsuccessfully, as it turned out. His was clearly an idiosyncratic belief system for his time and place. As a Byzantine, Plethon was “an odd man out”41 at the turn of a new era for the medieval Greek world. We know that other Byzantines toyed with pagan ideas and culture, yet no one went so far as to ask for the revival of Hellenic religion. Obviously, Plethon himself considered this a matter of life or death. He was convinced that only a Hellenic revival could resuscitate the moribund Byzantine Empire and save it from impending downfall. Certainly, his is an isolated example, but he was not the “last of the Hellenes.”42 He came from a long tradition of pagan-oriented resisters to Christianity, and his ultimately futile attempt remained known to all those flirting with paganism in later centuries, including modern Greek Neopagans. So what did Plethon do? He was born in Constantinople, but he later spent some time in Adrianople. One of his teachers and influences was a Jew named Elisha, who is said to have introduced him to Zoroastrianism. It seems, however, that his knowledge of the “oracles” of Zoroaster mainly came from Greek Neoplatonic sources. Although initially acquainted with Emperor Manuel II Palaeologus and active in Constantinople, Plethon left the capital in exile around 1410 to settle permanently at Mistra in Peloponnesus — further out of the reach of harsh church reaction to his philosophical views and religious quests, which showed early enough a critical spirit toward Christianity. There he met up with the despots of Mistra from the Palaeologan family, who gave him the chance to deploy his philosophical and scholarly activities in their court. There he was even highly esteemed as a political and judicial adviser. He wrote on needed reforms (military, agricultural, constitutional, administrative) in Peloponnesus, based on the Republic of Plato, in view of the hazards of Ottoman incursion and expansion. Plethon pleaded the revival of Hellenic identity among the Byzantines in his memorandum to the Emperor Manuel II Palaeologus. He wrote, “We are Hellenes as far as the descent-group [γένος] is concerned, given that our language, ancestral education and culture demonstrate this. As far back as human memory can go, solely the same Hellenes have been living in this geographical area.”43 Plethon equated the decline of Byzantium with its abandonment of Hellenic tradition and its acceptance of the Roman shield. He sought to remove the negative connotations from the term “Hellene” and make it a proud designation of ethnic identity. He was strongly inclined toward Platonic, and more specifically

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Neoplatonic, philosophy and disliked Aristotelianism, which he thought the church had distorted for its own purposes. It was with reform on his mind that Plethon in his later years penned his controversial work Laws, in which he developed his own religio-philosophical system. It was an amalgam of theology, ethics, polity, cosmology, and liturgy of prayers and hymns drawn from Neoplatonic, Pythagorean, Zoroastrian, and other traditions. This work was not distributed during his lifetime, and only a close circle of devoted disciples had access to it. Nor do we believe today that Plethon made much effort to persuade the imperial family to support his religious ideas. He “got away with” being a philosopher of Neoplatonic inclination rather than a subversive pagan religious reformer. After Plethon’s death, the pious despot of Mistra (1449 – 60) Demetrios and his wife, Theodora, who were afraid of the repercussions of Plethon’s overt paganism, gave Laws to Scholarios. Scholarios read it, became outraged, and ordered that it be publicly burned either in 1455/56 or in 1460.44 What remains are only fragments (85 of the 101 chapters have been lost).45 Scholarios was Plethon’s most tenacious opponent and compared him to the Emperor Julian in his overt paganism.46 He was also alarmed by the increased presence of Byzantines flirting with Hellenism and its pagan tradition in Constantinople before 1453.47 Plethon, who also envisaged a comprehensive calendar reform,48 articulated a system that was guided more by reason than by faith. Philosophy played a central role because he believed that if the mind was freed from dogma, humanity could broaden its horizons. His particular worldview featured a Neoplatonic hierarchical schema, emanating from the Prime Principle and organized according to the degree of perfection of each being. The “chart” included deities, demons, human souls, and material elements, with Zeus on top as the head of the universe. Despite many influences from various traditions, Hellenic theology and deities lay at the heart of his system. Such a worldview was certainly at odds with Christian Orthodoxy, which explains church opposition to Plethon after his death. As a result of his relative secrecy, Plethon’s Orthodoxy, although under suspicion, was not seriously called into question during his lifetime. He thus took part in the long Council of Ferrara-Florence (1438/39) with the Latin Church as member of the Byzantine Orthodox delegation, but he participated little in the theological discussions. Leaving the council meeting early, he also failed to sign the union between the two churches. More important, while in Renaissance Italy he continued explaining Plato and Neoplatonic philosophy to some Italian intellectuals, as well as to

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Cosimo de’ Medici (1389 – 1464), a patron of literature and the arts. He thus contributed significantly to a renewed Italian interest in Platonism. Obviously, Plethon had encountered in Italy a liberal intellectual atmosphere much more open to the revival of antiquity and pagan orientations than was Byzantine Greece, on the threshold of Ottoman rule. Interestingly enough, some of his Italian admirers later took his remains from Mistra, transferred them to Italy, and reinterred them in Rimini, where Plethon’s tomb can still be found today.

The Ottoman Period (1453 – 1830) This period did not lack individual and idiosyncratic endeavors in the relations between Hellenism and Orthodoxy, even though the church was in control of the intellectual and educational structures of the Greek world. The individual thus could and did make a difference, even if hampered by rigid policies and outlooks. The fact that many Orthodox Greeks were not barred from seeking refuge in Western Europe signifies their ability to evade both Ottoman and church control and express their opinions without fear of persecution. A good example of the freedom of expression allowed abroad is the 1544 poem “Lament on the Destruction of Greece,” composed in the ancient Greek tongue and meter by Antonios Eparchos from Corfu, who at the time lived in Venice. The poem belongs to a literary genre precipitated by the fall of the Byzantine Empire to the Ottoman Turks. Yet Eparchos presented in his poem the hope for the eventual liberation of Greece through the aid of the ever-watchful Hellenic deities: Now, Muses, begin a tearful song, / and you, Helicon, now shed unceasingly tears of grief! / Now, you the three Graces, exquisite children of Zeus, / bemoan the disastrous misfortune of Greece / . . . Now, heavenly deities, remember the once sacred country, / deliver its cities from immense evils. / Give to its inhabitants the wisdom of the heart, which is the most precious possession of mortals, / and dispel from Greece the night that darkens it. / As for you, Justice, look this way, consider her moan, / and put the end that long for to her misfortune.49

We should not take this invocation as a nod to reviving paganism in Plethonian style. It was meant more as a rhetorical device to dramatize

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the cruel fate of Greece, the glorious cradle of classical civilization, under “barbarian” Ottoman rule. Eparchos was most certainly influenced by the spirit of Humanism and its admiration for ancient Greece, then widespread in Western Europe. This compounds the evidence that modern Greek identity, with its Hellenic roots, had taken on more robust proportions at that time. No doubt, this roused the antennae of the church once more, ever fearful of religious repercussions that could upset the delicate balance that it had set up between Hellenism and Christianity. In Ottoman Greece, several ecclesiastics who pursued a particular course stood out, blending Orthodox convictions with a selective appropriation of Hellenic learning and coming up with their own humanistic approach. As mentioned before, this kind of “Orthodox Christian Humanism,” a continuation of the old tradition of “Christian Hellenism,” enjoyed the church’s sanction and was quite influential under Ottoman rule. Its Orthodox bearers, although following their individual trajectories, tended to accept the limits that the church imposed on them. This is not to say that they did not engage in debate (e.g., as to what form of Aristotelianism the church ought to sanction). But they did not pose a serious challenge to the religious and intellectual establishment of the day. Another set of movers and shakers under Ottoman rule were the Phanariotes, an influential, elite social group. They belonged to families whose intellectual and economic prowess led them to higher posts in the administration of the Ottoman Empire. Although not all of these aristocrats were of Greek origin, most of them were culturally Hellenized and influenced by the socio-political ideas and moral precepts of the ancient Greek tradition. A unique mix of Hellenic elements, Western ideas, Orthodox Christian convictions, and Byzantine orientations distinguished their outlook. In many cases, they tried to squeeze elements of Hellenic tradition into a Christian mold. Individuals like Alexandros Mavrokordatos (1641 – 1709) and his son Nikolaos Mavrokordatos (1680 – 1730) express this rather idiosyncratic blend of diverse elements, not common among ordinary Greeks in their day. These were cosmopolitan personages in close contact with the intellectual pulse of Western Europe and ready to voice disdain for outdated elements of their own cultural tradition. Although they were receptive to the Enlightenment’s critical ideas, they modified and adapted them to the situation of Romeic Hellenism in the Ottoman Empire.50 But at heart, they started developing a particular “Greek identity” and talked of the “broader kinship unit” (γένος) or even “political

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community” (ἔθνος) of the Greeks under Ottoman rule. Another advocate of this approach was Dimitrios Katartzis (ca. 1730 – 1807), a learned Greek in Phanariote service, who formulated his own theory on the historical continuity of the Greeks.51 Remember that the Phanariotes were well-placed bureaucrats. This, naturally, led to infighting for power and influence. One of their goals was to keep the Patriarchate of Constantinople under their control. They also meddled in politics and obtained from the Sublime Porte the political administration of two Danubian Principalities, Wallachia and Moldavia, from the early eighteenth century up to 1821. During this period, they reshaped the capitals of Bucharest and Jassy into important centers of Greek learning and culture. They founded schools, printed books, and gathered leading intellectuals in their capitals and provinces. In effect, they managed to shift the center of Greek learning and culture at that time from Constantinople to what is now largely modern Romania. The second half of the eighteenth century saw the rise of another discourse strongly influenced by the West that “rearticulated” the HellenicChristian paradigm. Much of this took place outside church matters, having more to do with the present-day status of Greek society and the challenges that it was about to face. Some of the views came, however, from Orthodox ecclesiastics. One of these was the cleric Iosipos Moisiodax (ca. 1725 – 1800), who formulated a most serious social criticism of the denigration of Greek society. He lashed out especially at the faddish worship of antiquity that had gripped his fellow Greeks’ imagination. The craze for antiquity had gotten so bad that Greeks, in his opinion, were turning their backs on needed progress to be had from the West European example. Ironically, West Europeans themselves were promoting the achievements of Greek Antiquity in reformulating their own image and developing them further. Moisiodax was also critical of the church for supporting cultural traditionalism in Greece to such an extent as to hinder the benefits of Western achievements and reignite deeply rooted anti-Western xenophobia. The West posed no danger and should not have been a church matter, he argued. Instead, he urged a new view of the Hellenic-Christian relationship in Greece more in congruence with the spirit of the times. Few doubted that Moisiodax was a devoted Christian, but for the conservative church and social circles his demands for reform were hard to swallow.52 What is “peculiar” about Moisiodax, a Hellenized Vlach, is that he belonged to a group of Orthodox subjects that had wholeheartedly ac-

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cepted the Hellenization process. Theirs was not a nationalistic view. This process was quite widespread at the time and had affected many non-ethnic Greeks. It represented a natural realignment of Hellenism and Christianity that they regarded as necessary and ideal. As late as 1802, Daniel of Moschopolis published a four-language dictionary (modern Greek/“Romeic,” Wallachian, Bulgarian, and Albanian) with the title Εἰσαγωγικὴ Διδασκαλία (Introductory Teaching), in which he admonished his non-Greek readers to Hellenize themselves: Albanians, Wallachians, Bulgarians, speakers of other tongues, rejoice, / and ready yourselves all to become Greeks. / Abandon your barbaric tongue, speech and customs, / so that to your descendants they may appear as myths. / Honor your nations, together with your motherlands, / making the Albanian and Bulgarian motherlands Greek. / . . . Peoples that before spoke alien tongues, but devout in holy matters / acquire the tongue and speech of the Greeks. / Rejoice young Bulgarians, Albanians and Wallachians, / deacons, priests and monks. / Wake from the deep sleep of ignorance, / learn the Greek language, the mother of wisdom. / The Wallachian Daniil, an honored oikonomos, / being legally a priest, produced this book. / The good shepherd and hierarch of Pelagonia / published it, as a holy leader of the flock. / Wanting to teach the Greek language to all.53

Obviously, Daniel’s exhortation equated Hellenization with civilization, whether in the Orthodox Christian or secular domain. Another figure promulgating a particular Hellenic-Christian vision was Rigas Velestinlis (1757 – 98), a radical thinker with a deep knowledge of Greek Antiquity (see his 1797 Carta of Greece) who sought to instill Western revolutionary ideas in the Balkan mentality. Tragically, he ended up in Turkish hands and was hanged. His legacy pertained not only to a Greek political conscience but also to a broader Balkan one. Echoing French revolutionary texts, Rigas’s 1797 The Rights of Man envisaged a future political entity in which both Christians and Muslims would coexist and Greek would be the common language for all citizens. In another 1797 text, New Political Constitution of the Inhabitants of Rumeli, Asia Minor, the Archipelago, Moldavia, and Wallachia, he added more detail about his vision for a new political structure, in which the Turks were to be included. Although he used terms like “Greece,” “the Greek Republic,” and “the Greek people,” he was referring to citizenship, not ethnicity. His

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Fig. 7.2. An early twentieth-century postcard showing the statue of Adamantios Koraïs, erected in 1875 outside the main neoclassical building of the University of Athens (also in detail). It attests to the importance attached to Koraïs’s legacy in the modern Greek state. His statue joined those of Patriarch Gregory V and Rigas Velestinlis at the same location. Given the largely divergent opinions between these persons, such a pairing can be understood in the context of the rising Greek nationalism and the need to bring Hellenism and Christianity together.

vision was the creation of a secular, multiethnic, liberal empire — blind to its denizens’ religious or language distinctions — in which equality, justice, and fraternal bonds among all ethnic groups would reign. Nor did he connect Christianity exclusively to Greek identity. All Christians, even those who did not speak any Greek, would be citizens of the new empire as long as they “helped Greece.”54 Obviously, Rigas introduced novel dimensions to the traditional connection between Hellenism and Christianity. The church reacted swiftly, condemning his views in 1798. Perhaps the most influential Greek scholar prior to Greek independence was the already-mentioned Adamantios Koraïs (1748 – 1833) (see fig. 7.2). A physician, he spent most of his time in Western Europe, especially in Paris from 1788 until his death. He had firsthand experience of the French Revolution and made a name for himself internationally as

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a philologist, linguist, and editor of ancient Greek works. His influence on the language, literature, and culture of modern Greece was seminal yet quite controversial. Influenced by Enlightenment thinkers like Edward Gibbon,55 he viewed Byzantium as a deplorable phase in medieval Greek history. He became a fierce critic of the church’s role in the Ottoman Empire and its dealings with the Sublime Porte. On a societal level, he criticized the superstitions spread by the clergy and the deep ignorance of the masses. He was not an atheist but rather a radical anticlericalist, and he sought to amend the church’s overall position. To this purpose, he collaborated with adherents to Enlightenment ideas among his contemporary Greeks and tried to reorganize school curricula. He also envisioned a Greek Orthodox Church independent of the Patriarchate of Constantinople, an event that finally took place in the year of his death. Koraïs’s reputation suffered greatly in church circles from the early 1790s onward and failed to be rehabilitated by the clergy in the modern Greek state. Several reasons account for his difficulty in church circles, although in his early years Koraïs entertained good relations with his clerical peers and composed texts that dealt with religion in a traditional way. He was certainly not in favor of a pagan revival, and he remained basically a Christian, even if in his own idiosyncratic way. Under the influence of the Enlightenment, Koraïs’s Christianity was mostly based on reason. It bore a utilitarian character that focused on earthly reality, not on the life to come. As a result, he was critical of many traditional practices in the Orthodox Church, such as fasting, which he considered not only old-fashioned but also superstitious and remote from the real essence of Christianity. He thus attempted to radically reform the traditional intellectual and ideological structures of the Greek world under Ottoman rule, including the church. First, he aimed to limit the broad scope of the church in non-religious matters (such as education). Second, he pushed to modernize the church by stripping it of its Byzantine elements, remnants of a period that he considered a dark blotch on Greek history. Third, he underestimated the role of the Orthodox Church in the historical continuity of the Greeks by highlighting binding elements other than religion, in particular the uninterrupted use of Greek language. Fourth, garnering his immense knowledge of Greek Antiquity,56 he chose to bypass the church and link Hellenic tradition directly to Western classical scholarship and its warm reception of antiquity. He bolstered this effort in a special book series, the Hellenic Library, featuring classical authors. He complemented these editions with

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lengthy prefaces on diverse political, educational, linguistic, and cultural matters pertaining to Greece. His labors influenced many other Greek intellectuals, as well as the Greek national movement for liberation, and his impact remained catalytic in the formation of the modern Greek state and its intellectual course. Koraïs also suggested that the modern Greek state be called “Greece” in order to differentiate it from the ancient Hellas. Yet Koraïs’s statements suggest that in many cases his knowledge and understanding of the Orthodox Christian tradition and spirituality were not very deep.57 He seemed content to relate Hellenism to Christianity (not specifically the Orthodox version), but he was obviously far more attracted to the classical tradition than to that of the Greek Church Fathers. He also viewed the Hellenic tradition on its own merits, not for the sake of satisfying church objectives. The classical texts that he edited dealt mostly with rules of behavior, ethics, political thought, and critical reasoning — whatever struck him as of use and profit to his compatriots. What is certain is that he left a vivid and strong legacy that has long stirred debate among generations of modern Greeks.58 A related example comes from those Greeks known at the time for their high appreciation of ancient Greek culture, and who had a hand in loosely stitching Hellenism and Christianity together. Although on a somewhat different trajectory than Koraïs, these archaists were equally fascinated by the insuperable value of ancient Greek literature, but with a twist. Their evaluation entailed a subtle depreciation of the Orthodox Christian tradition. Although this was not their explicit aim, it was a consequence of their exclusive concentration on Greek Antiquity. Because some of these archaists belonged to the Orthodox clergy, they got into hot water with the church. A proponent of the antique spirit, well versed in ancient Greek literature, was the cleric Neophytos Doukas (ca. 1760 – 1845). He made a name for himself by editing numerous ancient Greek writers. His work bridged the Ottoman and modern Greek eras. He supported imitation of the ancient Greek style and the revival of ancient Greek language. In doing so, he believed that modern Greeks could attain the virtue, knowledge, and wisdom of their glorious ancestors. His selection of classical authors was similar to that of Koraïs. In 1815, he got involved in a conflict about the rundown condition of the Orthodox Church. In an address to Kyrillos VI, patriarch of Constantinople (1813 – 18), he blamed the church for widespread ignorance due to the negative role of the clerics and monks in educating the populace, as well as their neglect of Greek Antiquity. Like

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Koraïs, he also put stronger emphasis on the role of language in the construction of the Greek nation and its historical continuity and survival across time, thus downplaying the role of religion (Orthodoxy).59 Doukas, whom the church regarded as excessive in his archaeomania, was critiqued and mistrusted for his views. In fact, Patriarch Kyrillos VI was not a fan of classical education, which he undervalued compared to the Orthodox Christian one. He could simply not understand why some Greeks at that time preferred Thucydides and Demosthenes over Synesios and Gregory of Nazianzus. He also found the verses of the twelfth-century popular poem “Ptochoprodromos” in Byzantium more harmonious than those of Euripides.60 No doubt, it was an epoch hardly devoid of idiosyncratic voices in a multitude of expressions and cases. Consider that before his death in Bucharest, the learned grammarian and Athonite monk Neophytos Kavsokalyvitis (1713 – 84) said in a delirium that he was about to join the souls of Plato and Demosthenes — perhaps he had counted them among those who were saved. Be that as it may, his utterance underlined the importance that Greek sages held for some churchmen, obviously a higher one than Christian saints and Church Fathers. Neophytos’s delirium almost cost him a proper Christian burial, for which his Orthodox fellows obtained permission after many difficulties.61 The ongoing cultural comparison of a history-tossed Greece to its ancient ghosts persisted mightily under Ottoman rule, fueled by West European thinking. Orthodox Greeks were thus often forced to exhibit a bipolar attitude: admirers of Western progress (with a bit of an inferiority complex) yet also the world’s religious and cultural superiors. Such an atmosphere produced some very colorful individual responses. To compensate for their sense of lagging behind the West, certain Greeks resorted to various complex stratagems. Their aim was to prove the Greeks’ intrinsic superiority as an elect people with a special calling. In this context, Orthodox Christianity was touted as a “more authentic” form of Christianity, more faithful to Christian origins than its Western counterparts, Roman Catholic and Protestant alike. Another tactic was to diminish the value of Western achievements in modern times: After all, were they not simply an extension of ancient Greek achievements? Were not many widely admired Western “innovations” actually from Greek Antiquity? The world had a short memory if it failed to give credit to the ancient Greeks. It was in such a vein that Loudovikos/Luigi Sotiris (1727 – 1820), from the Greek island of Lefkas, wrote a treatise arguing for the immense debt that West

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Europeans owed ancient Greece. The priest Anastasios of Ampelakia later published this popular set of arguments in vernacular Greek.62 Sotiris directed his sharpest barbs at those Western thinkers who were mocking and tormenting the Greek nation for its deplorable state of education and learning after the fall of Byzantium. Sotiris fished examples from both ancient Greek and Byzantine sources to support the cultural and intellectual continuity of Greeks throughout history and their unique contributions to world civilization. Overall, his idiosyncratic apologetic work is of minimal actual value, written as it was with the single aim of showing Greece’s superiority by devaluing modern Western achievements.

The Modern Period (1830 to the Present) Although the official policy of both state and church in modern Greece was eventually to bring Hellenism and Christianity under a common denominator and consider them as an organic whole, all disputes about this topic were a long way from being settled. The two centuries of modern Greek history thus abound in further individual, distinctive, and idiosyncratic endeavors to link Hellenism and Christianity. The unique biographies of the persons involved determined much of what happened. The official upgrading of the value and the importance of Greek Antiquity in the modern Greek state, even if not directly related to a revival of Hellenic religion, was a key factor in generating debates and concomitant individual trajectories. The Orthodox Christian character of the new state was to be put on a relatively equal footing with its ancient Greek counterpart. This was a unique development in the long Greek history of relations between Hellenism and Christianity. Up until that moment, Christianity and the church had held “top dog” position. This ranking changed considerably in the modern Greek state; it became possible to deal with Hellenism as a cultural entity based on its own merit and independent of church objectives. As a result, in areas of creative inquiry, for example, such as literature and the arts, the themes connected to Greek Antiquity (including the Hellenic religious culture) gained clear precedence over themes pertaining to Christian Greece. A look at twentieth-century Greek poetry offers a glimpse of this crucial development.63 Compared to earlier periods of Greek history, a progressive liberalization of assessments of Hellenism also occurred. Modern Greeks felt freer to innovate, to formulate personal, even idiosyncratic, views without fear-

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ing repercussions from church or state. Today’s authors feel free to discuss the negative treatment of Hellenism by Christians or to openly object to the Helleno-Christian synthesis model.64 There are no real consequences for airing one’s views. In the mid-nineteenth century, however, there was less liberty of expression. The 1850s witnessed the excommunication of Andreas Laskaratos (1811 – 1901)65 and the 1860s the official criticism of Emmanouil Roidis (1836 – 1904),66 two men of letters who had been very critical of and satirical toward the traditions and rites of the Greek Orthodox Church. Yet, slowly and gradually, the situation began to change. In the second half of the twentieth century, it was mostly the official church or certain rigorist Orthodox circles that condemned idiosyncratic approaches to Hellenism and Christianity. Despite their objections, these Orthodox actors were often met with stony silence from the state, which was committed to a policy of free speech and expression. The gradual liberalization of Greek society remains a fact up to the present day, aside from various short intervals of repression, especially under dictatorial regimes. Take the example of the writer Nikos Kazantzakis (1883 – 1957), whom various Orthodox and other circles tried unsuccessfully to muzzle. His works, imbued with an iconoclastic spirit and liberal worldview, left him constantly in a tenuous relationship to the Orthodox Church.67 Yet Kazantzakis assimilated a lot of Christian material, particularly the figure of Jesus Christ, into his writing,68 albeit in his own way and despite his critical stance toward the church. At the same time, he exhibited a vibrant love of pagan beauty and aesthetics, and promoted a particular “Greek way of life” (see his 1946 novel, Zorba the Greek). In general, the religious dimensions of his thought, due to his continuous metaphysical and existential concerns, are unquestionable and have attracted wider attention.69 While residing in Stratford-on-Avon in 1939, Kazantzakis also wrote the tragedy Julian the Apostate, which was finally published in Athens in 1945. Emperor Julian was portrayed as struggling against Christian conspirers determined to annihilate him. In fact, he embodied for Kazantzakis a symbolic figure representing the solitary struggle for freedom and personal self-realization. All these particulars do not concern the modern Greek state one iota. Indeed, Greece claims him as a sort of national treasure, even if he deviated from the officially adopted and promoted model of Helleno-Christian synthesis. He is still, perhaps, the most internationally well-known modern Greek author. Although the Greek state never issued an official endorsement of Kazantzakis’s views on church and Christianity, it has done everything else to promote him (such as

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designating 2007 as the “Kazantzakis Year”). Attitudes about figures like Kazantzakis illustrate a radical shift in the modern Greek state. Idiosyncratic dealings with Hellenism and Christianity are basically allowed, no matter what doubts the church might harbor. Considering the huge array of cases in this category, let us limit ourselves to a few representative ones from different areas. Take the case of General Yiannis Makriyiannis (1797 – 1864), who had fought in the War of Independence and paid a great price in terms of ill health. Makriyiannis’s main ideas appeared in two autobiographical works not published until the twentieth century. Transcribing them into readable modern Greek required strenuous effort. They contain his sincere and highly personal vision of a modern Greek identity and document his pride as a Greek Orthodox. Makriyiannis was illiterate yet possessed a critical mind and was a keen observer of historical events. He was able to articulate definite views about modern Greek identity and related problems. His works thus attracted the attention and admiration of Greece’s intellectual elite, including George Seferis. Makriyiannis’s worldview was guided by his personal experiences, popular traditions, cultural ethos, patriotism, and deep Orthodox religiosity. In this constellation, Hellenism was inextricably meshed with Orthodox Christian convictions, and both were at odds with the Western intrusion in nineteenth-century Greece. Characteristically, in his Memoirs he mentioned venerable figures of ancient Greece — Plato, Socrates, Aristides, Leonidas, Themistocles, Thrasybulus, Demosthenes, and many others — expressing a kind of “existential” kinship with them, and paying homage to ancient Greek values and the contributions of his glorious ancestors to humankind. But he understood this connection to ancient Greece in purely Christian terms without seeing any disagreement between the two.70 Understanding quite well the enormous symbolic significance of Greek antiquities for the modern Greek nation and identity, he also reproached his compatriots when he saw them selling such antiquities to foreigners. Yet the independent Greek state under the Bavarian regime brought him little respite from his woes. He thus compared the Turks to wolves and the West Europeans to bears. He complained bitterly about foreign control of his country and the inability of West Europeans to understand Greek Orthodox traditions and sensitivities. His discussion with Freiherr Karl Wilhelm von Heideck (1788 – 1861), one of the three regents for King Otto, is indicative of the gap separating the two worlds and the different criteria that each

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used in evaluating the course of history. Makriyiannis was the idealistic patriot with an unshaken belief in the power and support of God (who had made Greece’s liberation possible), whereas Heideck was the rational pragmatist.71 In his other work, Visions and Miracles, Makriyiannis expressed more clearly his deep religiosity and Orthodox convictions, coupled with his sincere patriotism. These lay behind his overall thinking and decision making, and were based on mystical and experiential premises, not on some intellectual approach to Orthodoxy. It was certainly his own private belief system that gave meaning and orientation to his entire life.72 Through the publication of his works, Makriyiannis became quite popular, although his trajectory of influence has been subject to conflicting interpretations. Some found in his popular ethos the embodiment of an ideal unity and synthesis of Hellenism and Christianity; others argued for his demystification, put off by what they perceived as his morbid religiosity, superstition, and irrationality. As previously mentioned, a critical spirit characterized the second half of the nineteenth century in general, for a number of Greeks formulated personal views that were not particularly positive toward the Orthodox Church and the Byzantine tradition — Makriyiannis was aware of that and voiced his critique as well. The same pertained to the official attempts to bring Hellenism and Christianity together in their proclaimed historical synthesis. Even Dimitrios Vikelas (1835 – 1908), a cosmopolitan Greek and president of the First International Olympic Committee for the Athens Olympic Games of 1896, sometimes gave priority to his Hellenic identity over the Christian one, although he had a lively interest in restoring Byzantium’s reputation in the West and had written about the history of Christian Greece. He thus wrote in a letter in 1876, “Some people talk about Christianity. But in my soul I feel above all to be a Hellene.”73 For others, like the diplomat Ion Dragoumis (1879 – 1920), it was the ancient Greek civilization that had subjected the new religion of Christianity to its influence and used it for its own purposes as an organ of moral authority and imposition.74 This particular view saw the Hellenization of Christianity as a pillar of support to the historical dimension of the Greek nation. Dragoumis espoused an anti-irredentist ideology at the time, but in his scheme Christianity was merely put to the service of Hellenicity throughout history and was seen through a Greek national lens. Idiosyncratic ideas could also be found among Orthodox thinkers and circles. The already-mentioned popular lay preacher Apostolos Makrakis

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developed such a particular theological-philosophical system. So strongly did he voice his opinions that the Holy Synod of the Church of Greece excommunicated him in 1879 and the state imprisoned him for two years. But his influence lingered on into the twentieth century and his followers continued his legacy in Greece and abroad. Makrakis was a charismatic personality who offered his own interpretation of the historical course of Hellenism, and he evaluated its synthesis with Christianity very positively as a unique opportunity in world history. He launched criticism at the problems being exacerbated or ignored by the church, politicians, and society. His vision was that of a regeneration of “Christian Hellenism” and its foundation on a new, stable basis, which would eventually lead to a Hellenization of the entire world. The Greek nation was entrusted with this messianic mission, a particular form of the “Great Idea,” which Makrakis connected to the political solution of the “Eastern Question” in the nineteenth century to the benefit of the Greek side.75 Another individual intent on formulating a new philosophy of life, destined for free people, was the poet Kostis Palamas (1859 – 1943).76 He had always shown a strong inclination toward pagan ideas and concepts. His reputation grew significantly when he submitted his award-winning poem “Hymn to Athena” to the 1889 Philadelpheios poetry competition. The work glorified the city of Athens and its pagan culture in lyric verse. He expostulated that “the gods above, generous with their favor, are watchful, / and leave Olympus to rest in your rock-strewn land. / Because here they find that man more resembles the gods.”77 In May 1895, Palamas was entrusted with writing the Olympic Hymn for the Athens Olympic Games of 1896, in which pagan motifs proliferated: “Ancient immortal spirit, pure father / of the beautiful, the great and the true, / descend, show yourself and shine forth here / in the glory of your own earth and sky / . . . Plains, mountains and seas glow with you / like a great white and purple temple, / and every people, your worshipper, hastens to your temple here, / ancient immortal spirit.”78 Palamas’s subsequent poems were also full of references to Hellenic religion and mythology.79 In 1897’s “Iambs and Anapaests,” he even compared Jesus Christ to Hellenic gods like Pan. His most important poem was, perhaps, “The Twelve Lays of the Gypsy” (1907), which expressed his own philosophy about the freethinking individual. The poem touched on the contradictions between Hellenism and Christianity (such the burning of Plethon’s Laws by Scholarios) and posited the idea that paganism diachronically survived in the Greek soul. Although he showed sympathy for the concept of Romeic Hellenism in

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history,80 Palamas’s Orthodoxy was rather nominal, and he did not accept the Orthodox Christian doctrine. This triggered, in turn, Orthodox critique, such as from the professor of theology Dimitrios S. Balanos.81 We can also detect a particular flirting with paganism even in the works of a popular novelist Alexander Papadiamantis (1851 – 1911), who is otherwise known for his deep religious sensitivities and masterful descriptions of the mystical dimension of Orthodoxy, as well as the popular piety, ethos, customs, and ritual life of the Greek Orthodox people in the provinces. In his 1884 novel, The Gypsy Girl, he treated the paganism of Plethon, whom he admired for his love of Greek Antiquity. But he rejected Plethon’s pagan revival and symbolically presented its failure through the tragic death of Plethon’s daughter. In addition, Papadiamantis treated paganism in the old sense of revering the sanctity of place. He examined the survival of the ancient parva religio in Orthodox Greece through the sacred legacy of the Greek landscape and pagan symbols. By looking at the form and nature of Orthodox tradition in rural areas, he considered what Christians took from the pagans (e.g., temples). He did not reject what had existed before Christianity but incorporated it in his narratives by showing differences between theory and practice in ritual. He was thus paganus in the literal meaning of the word, namely a man of the village, and he saw no difficulty in combining this perspective with his Orthodoxy. His apprehension of the divine realm was flexible and adaptive, especially in identifying forms of Greek popular worship. His literary oeuvre thus attests to a kind of religious continuity of Greece.82 If there is a modern Greek literate who has tackled the complex relations between Hellenism and Christianity in his own distinctive way, it is certainly the internationally known and much-admired poet Constantine Cavafy (1863 – 1933). Most of his poems were set in the Hellenistic and Greco-Roman periods or at the time of the Christianization of the Roman Empire after Emperor Constantine I’s conversion. Byzantium was a pronounced presence in Cavafy’s worldview,83 and he also showed an impressive familiarity with the works of church and profane historians, Church Fathers, and hagiographical writers.84 The issue of the transition from paganism to Christianity achieved a central place in his thought. Yet Cavafy presented this encounter without “taking sides” and while acknowledging the differences in orientation in both religious cultures. A most interesting example is his poem “Perilous Things” (1911), which relates the story of Myrtias, a Syrian student in fourth-century Alexandria, “in part pagan and in part a Christian.” As a pagan, Myrtias gave his body “to sensual

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Fig. 7.3. A view of the Pythian Games in the ancient stadium of Delphi, from the Second Delphic Festival, organized by Angelos and Eva Sikelianos in 1930 (photographic postcard by Nelly Seraidari)

delights, / to enjoyments that one dreams about, / to the most audacious amorous desires.” But as a Christian, “fortified by theory and by study,” he regained his spirit “as before, ascetic.”85 Cavafy’s poem thus offers a fascinating description of the oscillation between pagan and Christian identities in Late Antiquity. The revival of the Delphic Festivals additionally offered the Greek spirit a real chance for individual expression. Organized in 1927 (and again in 1930) by the poet Angelos Sikelianos (1884 – 1951) and his wife, Eva Palmer (1874 – 1952), they included, among other things, the Pythian Games (see fig. 7.3); folk songs and dancing; exhibitions of popular Greek art, weaving, and handicraft; and ancient drama performances (including Aeschylus’s Prometheus Bound ). Due to excessive costs and lack of state support, the festivals did not take place again, yet their legacy survived. The main idea was to rekindle core Hellenic values and thereby enable an intellectual and spiritual renewal by turning “the sacred arena of Delphi” into a non-profit center, including a Delphic University “as a modern Apollonian creative temple.” It was hoped that promoting the spiritual and artistic Hellenic

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values and ideals would combat the materialism and warmongering of the twentieth century, as well as encourage the peaceful coexistence of peoples. The Sikelianoses had a very visionary mission in mind: the revival of an ancestral, earthly, “Aryan or Orphic” humanism, with an “esoteric fullness” and a holistic handle on human life in accordance with the spirit of nature. Such a worldview would alleviate the fragmentary spirit of modern technocratic civilization.86 The “Delphic Idea” also aimed at studying the diachronic survival of ancient Greek traditions. In fact, the Sikelianoses believed in the unity of all phases of Greek history, which is why they included in the festivals elements from Byzantine musical tradition under the guidance of the musicologist Konstantinos A. Psachos (1869 – 1949). In fact, between 1915 and 1920 Eva had studied under Psachos and was particularly interested in the continuity between ancient Greek and Byzantine music and their differences from the Western musical tradition. This Delphic revival was meant to preserve many aspects of Greek culture, yet its fixation more on ancient Greece was a sign of an undervaluation of Christianity. In addition, the religious character of Sikelianos’s worldview and initiatives was more than conspicuous; it was generally seen as a “Sikelianist religion,” like the syncretisms of Hellenistic times.87 Expectedly, Sikelianos’s efforts met with grim disapproval in the Orthodox clerical community, which feared a full-blown revival of paganism. Furthermore, Sikelianos’s approach to theater was not a scholarly treatment of ancient tragedy and mysteries, coupled as it was with elements of Oriental mysticism and feminism. Nevertheless, his efforts led to a revival of theater and a new cultural conscience in Greece — the major outcome being the refounding of the National Theater of Greece in 1932. It also inspired a new era in the production of tragedy in Greece. The Sikelianoses’ house in Delphi, today the Museum of Delphic Festivals, attests to the legacy left by this unusual couple and their visions. The political domain is another rich source of individual approaches to the relations between Hellenism and Christianity in modern Greece. One interesting figure was the president of the Greek Republic (1975 – 80), jurist, and philosopher Konstantinos Tsatsos (1899 – 1987). Although a leading intellectual and political figure, he was not very fond of the official ideology of church and state concerning Helleno-Christianity. He certainly showed a greater predilection for Platonism than for Christianity. It was something of a public surprise to discover in his later published works that he believed in no religion at all as an absolute one. All religions were at the same level for him. He was inclined toward Christianity just because

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he considered it closer to Platonism. He behaved publicly as a Christian because he considered the church socially useful, especially in the Greek context. Yet there were concepts in Christianity that left him totally unimpressed, such as the Christian elevation of eternal heavenly life above the transient earthly one. Tsatsos said that he himself much preferred living the earthly life without any transcendent expectations. “In this respect, I am more a Hellene than a Christian,” he wrote.88 The disclosure of Tsatsos’s ideas elicited reactions from the church; it was deemed improper for the holder of the highest political office in the Greek Republic to have held such views in a predominantly Orthodox Christian country.89 One particular characteristic in the modern Greek state has been the continuous quest for a viable definition of Hellenicity or Greekness — a concept that would provide a persuasive and useful basis for modern Greek identity. Yet there was and still is no consensus as to the specific “ingredients” of an acceptable notion of Hellenicity, but rather a huge variety of opinions, evaluations, and proposals.90 In short, Hellenicity is conceptualized in both religious and non-religious terms. Given the various agendas and perspectives on this issue, the whole topic became extraordinarily complicated. As was to be expected, debate also revolved around how Hellenism, Christianity, and the dynamics of their relationship in history came to bear on the notion of Hellenicity. An explosion of divergent and at times idiosyncratic ideas erupted. The philosopher Kostas Papaioannou (1925 – 81), for instance, wanted to underscore the continuity that ran from antiquity to Byzantium, as seen in the domain of artistic creation.91 In contrast, his philosophical fellow traveler Cornelius Castoriadis (1922 – 97) viewed Byzantium as anathema, a theocracy fraught with intrigues and religious superstitions that had no business aligning with the ancient Greek culture, its rationality, and the notion of democracy, which remain paradigmatic in defining Greek particularity.92 This quest for Hellenicity gained momentum in various phases of modern Greek history. The prose writer Yiorgos Theotokas (1905 – 66), who had started in the 1930s a quest to rethink and redefine the notion of Hellenicity after the end of the nationalist “Great Idea,” showed a vivid interest in the Orthodox tradition, its historical connection to Greek ethnicity, and its potential renewal. Yet he was critical of the ideology about the “Helleno-Christian Civilization” that had been propagated by state and church in the 1940s and 1950s in order to fight growing Communist propaganda.93 The visual art world, too, plunged into the quest

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for Hellenicity and came up with idiosyncratic collages of Hellenic and Christian elements. The painter Yiannis Tsarouchis (1910 – 89), for example, managed to coalesce artistic traditions from ancient Greek, Byzantine, Western, and folk art into his work. His paintings depict ordinary young people, extolling the virtues of their beauty and love in a symbolic salute to the ancients, without abandoning the “folksy” nature of his subjects.94 By contrast, the painter Alekos Fassianos (b. 1935) expressed through his art a “popular, folk paganism,” taking many motifs and topics directly from antiquity. His non-realistic paintings reflect an escape from everyday banality into a space of delight, eros, and pleasure, evincing sensuality, optimism, and élan vital.95 A harmonious coexistence of pagan and Christian motifs in a world that blurs the borders of dream, fantasy, and reality characterizes, on the other hand, the rich oeuvre of the sculptor Yiannoulis Chalepas (1851 – 1938).96 Likewise, the internationally known composer Mikis Theodorakis (b. 1925) has delved into the hitherto-neglected continuity of Greek musical tradition through the ancient Greek, Byzantine, and later eras — all done in his own personal quest for the notion of Hellenicity, to which Hellenism and Christianity are integral.97 In his view, this continuity is evident in the rich tradition of folk songs, which have incorporated and reworked past memories of the Greek people. In many cases, his own compositions were inspired by the rich liturgical tradition of the Orthodox Church. As he once noted, “The church is the cradle of our nation, the cradle of our race, the cradle of Hellenism.”98 In recent decades, Greek intellectuals have struggled anew to formulate a fresh notion of Hellenicity beyond the tired old slogans of HellenoChristianity. Such a multidimensional, heterogeneous current of thought acquired the label “Neo-Orthodoxy” in the 1980s. It comprised a mixed bag of progressive theologians, left-wing political thinkers, writers, and artists, all searching for a Hellenicity and Greek Orthodoxy untainted by Western biases, outdated internal perspectives, and concomitant ideologies. In the 1990s this current underwent a shift and became part of a broader attempt to redefine a modern Greek identity in view of the challenges coming from the post – Cold War period and global environment. The relationship between Hellenism and Christianity, always central, became attached to a particular “Greek way” of seeing, experiencing, and evaluating the world over the long haul (i.e., from antiquity to the present). Yet this current of thought did not seek to prove an uninterrupted continuity between Hellenism and Orthodoxy but rather the existence of

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a diachronic common ground of Greek experiences accessible to all (e.g., in popular culture and religious life, in philosophy, literature, and the arts, and in collective mentalities and everyday life). One representative of this current of thought was the theologian and philosopher Christos Yannaras (b. 1935). He posited a common Greek way of seeing the world, stretching from the time of Heraclitus to that of Gregory Palamas. Yannaras’s lens focused on the communal and participatory (not individualistic) understanding of truth, one without utilitarian ends and which lies in close proximity to the real needs and priorities of life. Yannaras’s approach to truth was apophatic, namely one that recognized the limitations of human discursive abilities. It was based on these premises that the historical encounter and final synthesis of Hellenism with Christianity took place, despite their differences. This encounter resulted in a flourishing civilization in Byzantium — that is, until induced Westernization from the fourteenth century onward altered it radically.99 For Yannaras, Greece’s modernization should not be a pathetic imitation of Western models but rather a re-Hellenization in the true sense, a rediscovery of the forgotten or neglected principles of a Greek Orthodox mode of apprehending and interpreting the world.100 Other intellectuals in this context have also undertaken quests for articulating a viable notion of Hellenicity for contemporary Greece, such as the political thinker Kostas Zouraris (b. 1940)101 and the philosopher Stelios Ramfos (b. 1939).102 Both emphasized, each in his own way, the intimate connection of Hellenism to Orthodoxy Christianity across history, the particular Greek Orthodox mode of seeing and interpreting the world and its premises, the fundamental differences between Greek Orthodox and Western culture, and the value and potential of Greek Orthodox civilization in the modern competitive global environment. Greek Orthodox rigorists, some of them from the ranks of the official church, have also come up with thoughtful and provocative views regarding Hellenism and Christianity. They are fully convinced of the unique truth and value of Orthodoxy, coupled with the superiority of the Greek nation as the “new Israel,” the new elect people of God, able to spread the message of Christianity worldwide.103 They often legitimize and promote this messianic calling with the help of Biblical passages. An oft-cited passage appears in the Gospel of John. It is a story about some “Hellenes” visiting Jerusalem during the Passover who approached Philip and Andrew and asked to meet Jesus (John 12, 20 – 24). When Jesus was informed of this, he is said to have exclaimed, “The hour has come for the son of man

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to be glorified” (John 12, 23). Interpretations vary regarding this saying and its background, but it probably relates to the proclamation of the Gospel to the Gentiles, not only to the Jews. The Hellenes mentioned in the passage would probably have been either indistinct pagans or Hellenized Jews. How was this passage understood in modern Greece, however, by an Orthodox bishop widely known for his rigorist stance and uncompromising defense of Orthodoxy? The already-mentioned metropolitan Augustinos Kantiotis issued a special report to the Permanent Holy Synod of the Church of Greece on November 17, 1994, entitled, “Greece in Danger.” He appealed to the church to take responsibility for guarding against threats to the integrity of the Greek nation with the imperative, “Greece cannot survive without the church.” Just as Jesus Christ defied his adversaries to glorify Hellenism in the past, he could do so again in this modern time of peril. According to Kantiotis, this glorification came about through the sacrifices of innumerable Christian martyrs and through the proclamation of the Gospel in Greek, an event that Jesus Christ himself had predicted (John 12, 23). Kantiotis thus interpreted the above passage as an indicator of Christianity’s special relationship to the Greek nation in both historical and modern terms.104 Let me close this chapter by looking at the broadly defined anti-Romeic Hellenocentric current in modern Greece, which is organized in various groups. As we know, one of their cardinal characteristics is the outspoken assault on Christianity and the idea of Romeicity, especially Christianity’s shabby historical treatment of Hellenic tradition. This egregious slight caused such groups to turn against the Orthodox establishment of Greece and its state support. Yet things are not as clear-cut as one might assume. The boundaries distinguishing these (admittedly still marginal) groups from one another are still in flux, however, sometimes overlapping and even spilling into other movements. This fluidity is, thus, typical of the broad anti-Romeic Hellenocentric current. It becomes a bit difficult to pinpoint their unusual stances and shifting alliances. The fact that some other esoteric groups have adopted similar Hellenocentric notions, while selecting elements of Christianity as well, complicates matters. Meanwhile, this takes place despite strong criticism of Helleno-Christianity and the Byzantine tradition within such groups.105 Generally, such Hellenocentric quests get tangled with the revival of the insuperable value of the Hellenic civilization as a necessity in overcoming contemporary problems. Hellenocentric views extolling ancient Greek civilization are usually combined

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with attacks on the fanaticism of the Christian clergy as persecutors of Hellenic religion and culture, past and present.106 At the same time, overcoming the current ecological crisis is seen through the prism of ancient traditions (e.g., Orphism and the Arcadia ideal) and sometimes combined with Orthodox Christian views.107 Such combinations represent idiosyncratic, one might say zany, views that do not belong to the mainstream of the anti-Romeic Hellenocentric current. On a different note, author Ioannis Fourakis (b. 1937) has roiled the waters of controversy with his quite peculiar views on the future of Hellenism and his anti-Semitic statements about the pernicious and subversive role of Jews in world affairs. He prophesized that Hellenism will be reestablished in its entirety, including the Hellenic religion. In his opinion, the constant rise of Neopaganism in contemporary Greece attests to this. Characteristically, Fourakis opined that Orthodox Christianity is an ally, not an adversary, in Hellenizing modern Greece. Yet it was unclear, he said, whether this will eventually lead to a syncretism between Hellenism and Christianity or to something else.108 There are also other idiosyncratic attempts to overcome the gap between Orthodox Christianity, Hellenism, and Neopaganism in contemporary Greece,109 but they draw criticism from all sides. Predictably, extreme-right groups and authors have also formulated their own idiosyncratic views on Hellenism and Christianity. They tend to favor strong correlation between the two for propaganda-oriented reasons. Orthodoxy is portrayed as the aggressive religion of a militant Greek nation, and hence vital to its future survival. Although they issue some critique of the Christian persecution of Hellenism in the past, they take the close relationship of the two in the modern Greek state for granted. Due to their outright anti-Semitism, these extreme nationalistic circles place particular emphasis on cleansing Christianity of all Jewish elements. Seeing Hellenism and Judaism as two incompatible worldviews, they intend to render Christianity more attuned to Hellenic needs and frames of reference.110 Because the presence and the establishment of Christianity in modern Greece are rather incontestable, and because Greece is to a great extent an ethnically homogeneous country, several anti-Romeic Hellenocentric individuals and groups have argued that a truly “new way” of correlating Christianity and Hellenism must be found. They claim that this would be possible only if the Greek Orthodox Church breaks away from its Jewish roots and the racist promotion of the Jews as the elect people of God. The church could do so by officially condemning the Old Testament, the

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quintessential anti-Hellenic text, and by denouncing past Byzantine enmity toward Hellenism.111 Orthodoxy in Greece must take on a more Hellenic character, they argue. This can be facilitated because many Christian rituals have Hellenic origins, and because Christianity can still be examined from a purely historical point of view, away from the distortions of the myth, lore, and superstitions rooted in Judaism. Oddly enough, some Orthodox clerics and theologians have associated themselves with such groups112 without downplaying the latter’s critical tone vis-à-vis Christianity and its Jewish roots. The anti-Romeic Hellenocentric group centered around the monthly review Δαυλός, mentioned before, has been much in the public eye for its idiosyncratic attempt to bring Hellenism and Christianity together. Given the entrenched quality of the Orthodox Christian establishment in Greece, the group deems it necessary to address global challenges with realistic and viable solutions. The argument goes as follows: Greece and its Christian Church coincide linguistically, geographically, and, to some extent, ethnically. The new world order forces them to think about how they can coincide culturally and intellectually as well. Traditional Christian anti-Hellenism cannot survive today, especially in Greece. There is no other choice than to work to make an authentic, spiritual Hellenicity coincide with its Christian flock; furthermore, all believers in the Christian flock should be Greeks. The Davlos group works in this direction, especially by attempting to influence religious leaders and eliminate all obstacles that might hinder the full, sincere, mutual, and reformatory spiritual embrace of the Church of Greece with Hellenicity. In the group’s mindset, one of the most important hindrances is the deeply anti-Hellenic Old Testament.113 To this purpose, the Davlos group sent an official letter to the Holy Synod of the Church of Greece in May 1993, asking it to expunge the Old Testament from the religion of modern Greeks and remove proSemitic passages from many other texts (e.g., schoolbooks).114 As was to be expected, this initiative bore no fruit. It is obvious that most trajectories within the broader anti-Romeic Hellenocentric current of today are critical of Christianity, yet several have tried to accommodate it for the sake of modern Greece and its future. Such an idiosyncratic accommodation is, however, a sheer impossibility for Greek Neopagans, who categorically refuse to compromise with Christianity. Obviously, not even anti-Romeic Hellenocentrists and Neopagans can agree; the touchy territory of religion in Greece is too fraught with friction.

Epilogue

My hope is that this concise panorama of Greece’s religious cultures — along an impressive time-line from antiquity to the present — illustrates a picture rich in traditions, options, and preferences. Greece’s religious scene is a study in diversity. It is useful now to recapitulate some major points. Due to its polytheistic character, the religious landscape of ancient Greece has always been plural by nature, even more so in Hellenistic times and throughout the Greco-Roman world. But even after the establishment of Christianity, religious diversity continued to exist in a modified form, often under conditions of radical change. The period of Late Antiquity continued to be plural; the pagan world resisted Christian usurpation and coexisted with the new religion. Later on, despite doctrinal religious rigidity in Byzantium, religious dissent refused to disappear. Even within the Orthodox Christian tradition itself, seen from a diachronic perspective, there was considerable variation in religious practices, administrative structures, and other areas. Orthodox Christianity was rarely, if ever, an entirely uniform and homogeneous religious culture. Behind the “official end” of paganism, Hellenic religious culture lingered on, mostly in disguised and latent forms. It was mixed into or simply coexisted with Orthodox Christianity. The surviving elements of Greek Antiquity — in the ruins (even when devoid of monuments or effigies), the popular ritual practices, the language, the literature, the educational ideals, and the popular imagery — were a constant reminder of the religious, cultural, and intellectual contours that had shaped Greece in earlier times. In this respect, Hellenism remained an option for all those dissatisfied with the Orthodox Christian establishment and its offerings. Going a step further, the long and manifold history of the Jews, as well as the pervasive presence of the Ottoman Muslims in Greece, are additional aspects of its religious diversity. These elements, too, brought themselves to bear on Greek consciousness and self-understanding across history.

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It is vital to point out that religious diversity and plurality in Greece were never a grand “theoretical construct” imposed on the landscape to enforce religious coexistence or regulate interfaith affairs. Such a construct is primarily a twentieth-century phenomenon arising from the quest for peaceful and productive religious coexistence worldwide — an imperative in an age of global modernity and multiculturalism. In this diachronic examination of Greece’s religious cultures, my interest has been to explore and map the diverse and plural religious field that has always existed there. It is not about a theory of religious pluralism but about a plural religious reality existing throughout Greek history, at times self-evident and at times shrouded in shadow. Exploring such a phenomenon requires factoring in all the social and cultural parameters operating in Greece, as well as the diverse phases of its lengthy history. Such a research agenda runs contrary to contemporary official rhetoric in Greece. Those carefully guarded discourses seek to present Greece’s religious history solely from a single perspective. From the church’s point of view, for example, Greeks have been Orthodox Christians for the last two thousand years, and this is their main, normative, and exclusive religion.1 Two officially sanctioned points are considered to be of crucial importance in uniting the Christian history of Greece: the coming of the Apostle Paul to Greece (49/50) and the official recognition of its autocephalous Orthodox Church by the Patriarchate of Constantinople (1850).2 In contrast, by looking at modern Greek Neopaganism, we get a totally different view: Christianity is regarded as an alien religion of Jewish origins that has nothing to do with Hellenism and Hellenic religion. In fact, it is seen as the religion that declared war against Hellenic worshippers and led to their demise.3 Adherents to other religions may additionally point to the multicultural and multireligious composition of certain geographical areas of Greece that their forebears inhabited at certain phases of history. These outcroppings of “non-Greek” influences are still in evidence today.4 Admittedly, these arguments contain seeds of truth. Those from the church and contemporary Neopagans overlook a great deal, however, coming as they do from an exclusive, normative perspective on Greece’s religious history — one that outlaws all other views and discounts religious diversity and plural conditions outside their narrow purview. By projecting one-sided opinions and judgments onto the past, they risk pressing historical reality into false preconceived notions and ideological schemas. This is exactly what I have sought to avoid in writing the present volume by placing greater emphasis on a holistic consideration of Greece’s

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religious history. My aim was to show, first, the plural and diversified religious topography of Greece that has “always” been there (along with the different voices emerging from it), and second, the numerous ways in which the major religious cultures of Greece (Hellenism and Christianity) interacted and correlated with each other in history. The encounter between Hellenic polytheism and Christian monotheism has been extremely complex and multilayered all along. This is why it merited a differentiated approach and concomitant evaluation. By placing the religious cultures of Greece over a larger “grid,” the particulars of the sprawling landscape of its past and present have come thus more into focus. Such a perspective calls for a reevaluation of the Orthodox Christian establishment in Greece and its significance for Greek self-understanding, both in history and at present. Orthodox Christian “dominance” has long led to an assortment of misunderstandings and misinterpretations. It is one thing to accept the overwhelming presence of Orthodox Christianity in Greece through its powerful institutional structures and its pervasive influence. But it is another thing to properly evaluate the position of other religious cultures in Greece’s history, especially after the time when Byzantine Christianity emerged “victorious” and developed into an allencompassing religious system enforced by the state. Although officialdom ventured to silence or suppress dissident voices, such actions were by no means coterminous with the disappearance of Hellenic polytheism or other religions. The exclusive Christian monotheism, despite centralized state support, was not in a position to establish a “single religious truth” over time. Religions are deeply embedded in cultural moorings, as well as in collective memories and individual mentalities; the formal and official banning of religions does not lead to their disappearance from the scene. They might go underground, but they continue to “be there” tacitly and unofficially. This was the particular fate of Hellenic polytheism, the “ancestral” religion of the Greeks, under Christian domination. The deep cultural roots and ramifications of religions become more evident by looking at the fate of the selective appropriation of Hellenism by Christian actors throughout Greek history. This diachronic survey has shown that this strategy was a double-edged sword for the church. In many regards, it was certainly successful and helped Christian objectives and long-term plans. But at the same time, it constantly exhibited a potentially “negative” side. In simple terms, it was impossible to separate Hellenism from Hellenic polytheism and use it for “alien” purposes. Hellenism was a complex, integral, and long-lived cultural formation that

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could not be fragmented and segmented ad libitum according to Christian criteria. Emperor Julian’s ingenious reaction against this Christian policy underlines the importance of considering each religion as a whole within its broader socio-political and cultural frame. Ironically, by selectively using Hellenism, the church thus inadvertently “contributed” to the later survival of Hellenic polytheism and its occasional revival. Greece’s religious landscape is thus contoured by deep collective memories, passed down and also inherited in various cultures. These memories serve as a way of seeing the past in order to envision the future. This volume’s survey has shown that Greeks have shared remembrances (or competing views) about their religious and cultural past. Nevertheless, both Hellenism and Christianity were inextricable parts of these shared memories and left their imprint on people’s conceptualization of Hellenicity/ Greekness. Over the course of time, these memories were modified, and one gained priority over the other. In the end, none of them disappeared. Both strains continued to be active, albeit with unequal intensity and power. Greeks drew on their historical legacy and expressed themselves differently, depending on the socio-historical parameters of the day. Such collective memories, regardless of their discrepancies or even the pain that they cause, are not a burden to be overcome. People can live with and accommodate them. Religious, political, and other authorities have often imposed policies of cultural and religious uniformity to erase these prickly incongruities from memory. Christian actors, for example, sincerely believed that it was right to eradicate memories of Greece’s Hellenic past, to wipe the slate clean. But this proved ineffective for the many reasons that we have examined in this book. Homogenizing policies fell short because memories cannot be easily or arbitrarily manipulated according to the will of centralized authorities. The dynamics of collective memories, so prevalent in Greece, evolved independently of external pressures. For all these reasons, what comes out of this diachronic religious history of Greece is the country’s rich plurality in religious forms and expressions, in defiance, one might say, of the dominance of Orthodox Christianity and its official infrastructure. This is something that all religious parties in Greece, especially those who are Orthodox Christians, would be wise to keep in mind. A recent example may illustrate this point. In 1994/95, a conflict arose in Thessalonica among the church, archaeological authorities, and the

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state regarding the use of the Rotonda, a large circular structure built by Emperor Galerius in the early fourth century as a secular building. Between the fourth and sixth centuries, the Rotonda was transformed into a Christian church dedicated to the holy martyrs with the architectural addition of an apse. At times it functioned as the main cathedral of the city. Under Ottoman conquest it was transformed into a mosque with further architectural additions. Around the time that Thessalonica was captured by the Greeks in 1912, it became a church once more, this time dedicated to Saint George. In 1917, it was declared a Macedonian museum under the control of the Directorate of Byzantine Antiquities; it was allowed to be used for church services only on special occasions until 1978, when it was closed due to earthquake damage. After restoration work, funded partially by the European Union, the Rotonda was scheduled to reopen in 1997 as a civic space for meetings and museum exhibits. In 1997, Thessalonica was designated the “European Capital of Culture,” which led to the eruption of a major conflict between the local bishopric and the archaeological authorities, operating under the aegis of the Ministry of Culture, about the future use of the Rotonda. Matters culminated in violent clashes and some physical destruction, as numerous Orthodox protesters managed to force their way through the entrance of the Rotonda and to occupy the building. Because the 1990s marked a period of escalating nationalistic agitation in Greece over the “Macedonian Question,” the church attempted to reclaim the Rotonda for religious and national purposes and to resist the plans of “erasing” the Christian vestiges of this (sometimes) holy place. Church authorities were adamantly opposed to the alleged “anti-Greek” and “anti-Christian” civic view that using the edifice for secular purposes would promote the city’s multicultural character. Yet, because the Christian phase of the Rotonda’s history was not the predominant one, the church’s position was weak. Still, its insistence on appropriating the place is a vivid example of the Orthodox Church’s self-perception as the normative and exclusive heir to Greece’s religious and cultural past — a past that, in reality, goes well beyond Orthodox Christianity in its multilayered diversity.5 Aside from this, the internal plurality that characterizes the monotheistic religious culture of (Orthodox) Christianity in the process of its historical development should also be taken into account. Actually, Christianity allowed for variation within its own ranks. Behind the official church facade, there was always a high degree of variation in the dialectic between the global and the local. We certainly know that Christianity was

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always inclusive in terms of incorporating elements from various religious cultures it came in contact with as it grew. Such outreach and inclusion historically characterize the Christian religious culture, which is often wrongly regarded as a monolithic and opaque system lacking significant internal variability. The contrary is true in most cases, as the multiform encounter between Hellenism and Christianity throughout Greek history (examined in this book) clearly shows. Seen through the lens of a diachronic perspective, the history of Greece’s religious cultures thus reveals not only a religious pluriformity but also issues of Greek religious identity. No doubt, it is difficult for those caught up in related discussions to avoid “taking sides” when debate grows heated and antithetical. I would still contend that their attempt to find one single religious and cultural identity for the Greeks over the span of history is both futile and non-productive. Historical reality is much more complex than a single Greek identity, neatly tied in a stereotypical package. From my perspective, it is more useful to apply the term “identity” in a plural form, contrary to what many ideologues of varied provenance are wont to do. Greek religious cultures bear multiple identities, even antinomic ones, lurking behind the smooth surface of constructs like “Helleno-Christian Civilization.” Such antinomies are deeply ingrained in Greek history itself, despite continuous efforts in the past and present to portray its development in a linear, uninterrupted, harmonious flow. Ultimately, these antinomies do not produce any split personalities or lead to insurmountable cleavages in personal orientations and worldviews. The many differences between Hellenism and Christianity notwithstanding, we have observed that numerous Greeks have seized on effective solutions to the religious and cultural dilemmas that confronted them historically. To me, this is a much more intriguing aspect of Greek ethos to examine than the polemical encounters and life-and-death struggles for dominance in which the two religious systems have often engaged. To put it differently, a main goal of this book was to examine how the historical passing from Hellenism to Christianity can be best understood and explained from a diachronic perspective. Was it a normal and seamless transition from an old to a new religious culture? Did it occur as a regular and predictable process? Was Christianity perhaps a new form of “paganism” that simply took off on its own trajectory? By contrast, are we to consider Christianity as a revolution, something extraordinarily new that broke completely with the preexisting religious culture? In all probability, there is no single, definitive, and normative answer to these

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questions. Rather, they should be addressed using diverse perspectives and rigorous criteria. This is exactly what this book, through the different modes of interactions between Hellenism and Christianity, has undertaken to show. Because we are dealing with a diverse and plural religious field, our conceptual means of capturing its specificities have to be plural as well. Such flexibility and openness should characterize any endeavor to apprehend the multiple religious faces of Greece. This runs contrary to all views that suppress this trove of human treasures and reduce them to a single, limited, and banal “face.”

Notes Notes to the Introduction 1. Cf. Graham Speake (ed.), Encyclopedia of Greece and the Hellenic Tradition, 2 vols. (London: Fitzborn Publishers, 2000). See also my entry, “Orthodoxy and Hellenism” (2:1203 – 7), which is related to the present book. 2. Demetrios J. Constantelos, Christian Hellenism: Essays and Studies in Continuity and Change (New York: Aristide D. Caratzas, 1998). 3. Takis Kambylis, “Greece εναντίον Hellas (ιστορίες με ονόματα),” Η Καθημερινή, 3 October 2007. 4. Tomoko Masuzawa, “Culture,” in M. C. Taylor (ed.), Critical Terms for Religious Studies (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998), 70 – 93. 5. Mark Hulsether, “Religion and Culture,” in J. R. Hinnells (ed.), The Routledge Companion to the Study of Religion (London: Routledge, 2005), 500 – 501 (emphasis in original). 6. Glen W. Bowersock, Hellenism in Late Antiquity (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1996), 7 – 10. 7. Julian, Letter 22, 429c, 430d. 8. Codex Iustinianus, I.11.9 (ed. by P. Krüger, Goldbach: Keip, [Berlin, 1877] 1998, 96). 9. Gregory of Nyssa, Oratio catechetica magna: Praefatio, in Patrologia Graeca (henceforth PG), 45, 9; canon 7 of the Fourth Ecumenical Council of Ephesus (431); and John of Damascus, De haeresibus, 3, PG, 94, 680 – 81. 10. This is evident in the interviews with various Greek intellectuals, scholars, and artists appearing every Sunday in the supplement review “K” (section “Πατριδογνωσία” by Anna Grimani) of the Athenian newspaper Η Καθημερινή. 11. Keith R. Legg/John M. Roberts, Modern Greece: A Civilization on the Periphery (Boulder, CO: Westview, 1997), 9 – 24. 12. Bruce Lincoln, “Culture,” in W. Braun/R. T. McCutcheon (eds.), Guide to the Study of Religion (London: Cassell, 2000), 409 – 22. Notes to Chapter 1 1. Herodotus, VIII, 144 (trans. by Jonathan M. Hall, Hellenicity Between Ethnicity and Culture, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002, 189).

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2. Walter Burkert, Home Necans: The Anthropology of Ancient Greek Sacrificial Ritual and Myth (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1983); and idem, Creation of the Sacred: Tracks of Biology in Early Religions (Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1996). 3. Simon Price, Religions of the Ancient Greeks (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1999). 4. John Pedley, Sanctuaries and the Sacred in the Ancient Greek World (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2005). 5. Susan E. Alcock/John F. Cherry/Jaś Elsner (eds.), Pausanias: Travel and Memory in Roman Greece (Oxford: Oxford UP, 2001). 6. Martin P. Nilsson, The Mycenaean Origin of Greek Mythology (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, [1932] 1972); and idem, The MinoanMycenaean Religion and Its Survival in Greek Religion, 2d ed. (Lund: Gleerup, 1968). 7. Walter Burkert, The Orientalizing Revolution: Near Eastern Influences on Greek Culture in the Early Archaic Age (Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1992); and Martin L. West, The East Face of Helicon: West Asiatic Elements in Greek Poetry and Myth (Oxford: Clarendon, 1997). 8. Bernard C. Dietrich, The Origins of Greek Religion (Bristol, UK: Bristol Phoenix, 2004), 1 – 68. 9. Ibid., 69 – 190. 10. For all above information, I also rely on Olivier Pelon/Nanno Marinatos, “Aegean Religions,” The Encyclopedia of Religion, 2d ed., 1 (2005): 37 – 44. 11. Anthony M. Snodgrass, The Dark Age of Greece: An Archaeological Survey of the Eleventh to the Eighth Centuries BC (New York: Routledge, 2001). 12. Dietrich, The Origins, 191 – 289. 13. Herodotus, II, 53. 14. Robert Parker, Athenian Religion: A History (Oxford: Clarendon, 1996). 15. Luther H. Martin, Hellenistic Religions: An Introduction (New York: Oxford UP, 1987), 6, 10 – 11. 16. Robert Schilling/Jörg Rüpke, “Roman Religion: The Early Period,” The Encyclopedia of Religion, 2d ed., 12 (2005): 7904 – 5. 17. Christoph Auffarth, “›Verräter — Übersetzer‹? Pausanias, das römische Patrai und die Identität der Griechen in der Achaea,” in H. Cancik/J. Rüpke (eds.), Römische Reichsreligion und Provinzialreligion (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997), 219 – 38. 18. Gregory Woolf, “Polis-Religion and Its Alternatives in the Roman Provinces,” in Cancik/Rüpke (eds.), Römische Reichsreligion, 71 – 84. 19. Susan E. Alcock, Graecia Capta: The Landscapes of Roman Greece (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1993), 172 – 214. 20. Relevant source material in Adolf Martin Ritter, “Kirche und Staat” im Denken des frühen Christentums (Bern: Peter Lang, 2005), 50 – 116.

Notes to Chapter 1 279

21. Louis A. Ruprecht Jr., Was Greek Thought Religious? On the Use and Abuse of Hellenism from Rome to Romanticism (New York: Palgrave, 2002), xxiii. 22. Christiane Sourvinou-Inwood, “What is Polis Religion?” in R. Buxton (ed.), Oxford Readings in Greek Religion (Oxford: Oxford UP, 2000), 22. 23. Ilias Arnaoutoglou, Ancient Greek Laws: A Sourcebook (London: Routledge, 1998), 140 – 42. 24. Ibid., 144 – 45. 25. Ibid., 142. 26. Simon Pulleyn, Prayer in Greek Religion (Oxford: Clarendon, 1997). 27. Herodotus, II, 18. 28. Philo, De mutatione nominum, 205; and idem, De decalogo, 65. 29. Origen, Contra Celsum, III, 73, PG, 11, 1016: “ἄθεον πολυθεότηταν.” 30. Price, Religions, 10. 31. Polymnia Athanassiadi/Michael Frede (eds.), Pagan Monotheism in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Clarendon, 1999). 32. Angelos Chaniotis/Gian Franco Chiai, “Die Sprache der religiösen Kommunikation im römischen Osten: Konvergenz und Differenzierung,” in J. Rüpke (ed.), Antike Religionsgeschichte in räumlicher Perspektive (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 117 – 24. 33. Burkhard Gladigow, “Struktur der Öffentlichkeit und Bekenntnis in polytheistischen Religionen,” in H. G. Kippenberg/G. G. Stroumsa (eds.), Secrecy and Concealment: Studies in the History of Mediterranean and Near Eastern Religions (Leiden: Brill, 1995), 17 – 35. 34. Pavlos Chrysostomou, Ἡ θεσσαλική θεά Ἐν(ν)οδία ἤ Φεραία θεά (Dissertation, University of Thessalonica, 1991). 35. Carla Maria Antonaccio, An Archaeology of Ancestors: Tomb Cult and Hero Cult in Early Greece (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 1995). 36. Jan N. Bremmer, The Rise and the Fall of the Afterlife (London: Routledge, 2002). 37. Christopher A. Faraone/Dirk Obbink (eds.), Magica Hiera: Ancient Greek Magic and Religion (New York: Oxford UP, 1991). 38. Hendrik S. Versnel, Ter Unus: Isis, Dionysos, Hermes: Three Studies in Henotheism (Leiden: Brill, 1990), 102 – 31; and Parker, Athenian Religion, 152 – 217. 39. A. J. S. Spawforth, “The Early Reception of the Imperial Cult in Athens,” in M. C. Hoff/S. I. Rotroff (eds.), The Romanization of Athens (Oxford: Oxbow Books, 1997), 183 – 201. 40. Robert B. Parker, Miasma: Pollution and Purification in Early Greek Religion (Oxford: Clarendon, 1983). 41. Arnaoutoglou, Ancient Greek Laws, 138 – 40. 42. Christiane Sourvinou-Inwood, “Further Aspects of the Polis Religion,” in Buxton (ed.), Oxford Readings, 54 – 55. 43. Plato, Respublica, 379a.

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44. Aristotle, Metaphysica, 1000a. 45. Jörg Rüpke, Die Religion der Römer: Eine Einführung (Munich: C. H. Beck, 2001), 119 – 36. 46. Thomas Harrison, “Religion and the Rationality of the Greek City,” in S. Goldhill/R. Osborne (eds.), Rethinking Revolutions Through Ancient Greece (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2006), 124 – 40. 47. Walter Burkert, “Jason, Hypsipyle, and New Fire at Lemnos: A Study in Myth and Ritual,” in Buxton (ed.), Oxford Readings, 227 – 49. 48. Johann Gustav Droysen, Geschichte des Hellenismus, 3 vols., 2d ed. (Gotha, 1877 – 78). 49. Thucydides, I, 3; Plato, Respublica, 606e; and idem, Sophista, 216ab. 50. Garth Fowden, The Egyptian Hermes: A Historical Approach to the Late Pagan Mind (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1993), 13 – 22. 51. Edith Hall, Inventing the Barbarian: Greek Self-Definition Through Tragedy (Oxford: Clarendon, 1991), 11. 52. Aeschylus, The Persians, 402 – 5 (transl. by Seth G. Benardete, Great Books of the Western World, Chicago: Encyclopaedia Britannica, 2003, 4:17). 53. Thucydides, II, 38. 54. Jon D. Mikalson, Ancient Greek Religion (Oxford: Blackwell, 2005), 196. 55. Thomas Harrison (ed.), Greeks and Barbarians (Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP, 2002). 56. Hall, Hellenicity, 227 – 28. 57. Jonathan M. Hall, Ethnic Identity in Greek Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1997); idem, Hellenicity, passim; and Katerina Zacharia (ed.), Hellenisms: Culture, Identity, and Ethnicity from Antiquity to Modernity (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2008), pt. 1. 58. Isocrates, Panegyricus, 50. 59. Simon Swain, Hellenism and Empire: Language, Classicism, and Power in the Greek World, AD 50 – 250 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1996). 60. Herodotus, II, 42. 61. Versnel, Ter Unus, 103 – 5, 114 – 18. 62. Eusebius of Caesarea, Praeparatio evangelica, I, 5, PG, 21, 45. 63. Polymnia Athanassiadi, Julian: An Intellectual Biography (London: Routledge, 1992) 1 – 12. 64. Horatius, Epistolae, II, 1, 156 – 57. 65. Thomas Cahill, Sailing the Wine-Dark Sea: Why the Greeks Matter (New York: Anchor Books, 2004); and Simon Goldhill, Love, Sex, and Tragedy: Why the Ancient World Shapes Our Lives (London: John Murray, 2004). 66. Oliver Taplin, Greek Fire (London: Jonathan Cape, 1989), 33. Cf. Simon Goldhill, Who Needs Greek? Contests on the Cultural History of Hellenism (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2003). 67. William St. Clair, Lord Elgin and the Marbles (Oxford: Oxford UP, 1998).

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68. Hans Eideneier, “Hellenen — Philhellenen: Ein historisches Mißverständnis?” Archiv für Kulturgeschichte 67 (1985): 137 – 59. 69. Olga Augustinos, French Odysseys: Greece in French Travel Literature from the Renaissance to the Romantic Era (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 1994), 178. 70. Ibid., 48. 71. Burkhard Gladigow, “Europäische Religionsgeschichte,” in H. G. Kippenberg/B. Luchesi (eds.), Lokale Religionsgeschichte (Marburg: diagonal-Verlag, 1995), 21 – 42. 72. Jean Seznec, The Survival of the Pagan Gods: The Mythological Tradition and its Place in Renaissance Humanism and Art (New York: Pantheon Books, 1953). 73. Joscelyn Godwin, The Pagan Dream of the Renaissance (London: Thames and Hudson, 2002). 74. Edgar Wind, Pagan Mysteries in the Renaissance (New York: Norton, 1968); Frances A. Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition (New York: Random House, 1969); and Aby Warburg, The Renewal of Pagan Antiquity: Contributions to the Cultural History of the European Renaissance (Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute for the History of Art and the Humanities, 1999). 75. Burton Feldman/Robert D. Richardson, The Rise of Modern Mythology, 1680 – 1860 (Bloomington: Indiana UP, [1972] 2000). 76. Peter Gay, The Enlightenment, vol. 1, The Rise of Modern Paganism (New York: Norton, 1995). 77. Geoffrey Miles (ed.), Classical Mythology in English Literature: A Critical Anthology (London: Routledge, 1999). 78. Jane D. Reid (ed.), The Oxford Guide to Classical Mythology in the Arts, 2 vols. (Oxford: Oxford UP, 1993). 79. Renate Schlesier, Kulte, Mythen, und Gelehrte: Anthropologie der Antike seit 1800 (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, 1994). 80. Richard Faber/Renate Schlesier (eds.), Die Restauration der Götter: Antike Religion und Neo-Paganismus (Würzburg: Königshausen und Neumann, 1986). 81. Ruprecht, Was Greek Thought Religious? 111 – 24, 141 – 66. 82. Christos Yannaras, Σχεδίασμα εἰσαγωγῆς στὴ φιλοσοφία, 2d ed. (Athens: Domos, 1988). 83. John Romanides, Franks, Romans, Feudalism, and Doctrine (Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 1981). 84. Foteini Barka, “Χάρβαρντ στο Ναύπλιο,” Ελευθεροτυπία, 23 January 2007. Notes to Chapter 2 1. A.D. 50 – 1951: Saint Paul’s Mission to Greece: Nineteenth Centenary: A Volume of Commemoration, comp. by H. S. Alivisatos (Athens, 1953), 223. 2. Cited in Timothy Ware, The Orthodox Church (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1980), 146n1.

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3. Stewart Lamont, Saint Andrew (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1995). 4. Eusebius of Caesarea, Historia ecclesiastica, IV, 23, PG, 20, 384 – 88. 5. Origen, Adversus Celsum, III, 30, PG, 11, 957. 6. The Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium (henceforth ODB), s.v. “Constantinople, Patriarchate of.” 7. Demetrios I. Pallas, Les monuments paléochrétiens de Grèce découverts de 1959 à 1973 (Vatican City: Pontificio Istituto di archeologia cristiana, 1977). 8. Paul Hetherington, The Greek Islands: Guide to the Byzantine and Medieval Buildings and Their Art (London: Quiller, 2001), 205 – 7. 9. Joannes Dominicus Mansi, Sacrorum Conciliorum magna et amplissima collectio (Florence, 1759), 2:692 – 702. 10. Rudolf Riedinger (ed.), Concilium Universale Constantinopolitanum Tertium, Pars 2 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1992), 935 – 43. 11. Judith Herrin, “Aspects of the Process of Hellenization in the Early Middle Ages,” Annual of the British School of Athens 68 (1973): 113 – 26. 12. Joan M. Hussey, The Orthodox Church in the Byzantine Empire (Oxford: Clarendon, 1990), 184 – 219. 13. Nicolas Cheetham, Medieval Greece (New Haven: Yale UP, 1981). 14. Steven Runciman, The Last Byzantine Renaissance (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1970). 15. John Meyendorff, St. Gregory Palamas and Orthodox Spirituality (Crestwood, NY: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1998). 16. Richard Clogg, “The Greek Millet in the Ottoman Empire,” in B. Braude/B. Lewis (eds.), Christians and Jews in the Ottoman Empire (New York: Holmes and Meier, 1982), 1:185 – 207. 17. Daniel Philippidis/Grigorios Konstantas, Γεωγραφία νεωτερική (Vienna, 1791; new ed. by A. Koumarianou, Athens: Ermis, 1988), 169. 18. Constantelos, Christian Hellenism, 219 – 34; and Nomikos Michael Vaporis, “The Religious Encounter Between Orthodox Christianity and Islam as Represented by the Neomartyrs and Their Judges,” Journal of Modern Hellenism 12 – 13 (1995 – 96): 257 – 325. 19. Dimitris G. Apostolopoulos, Οἱ ἰδεολογικοὶ προσανατολισμοὶ τοῦ Πατριαρχείου Κωνσταντινουπόλεως μετὰ τὴν Ἅλωση (Athens: Idryma Goulandri-Horn, 1995). 20. Gerhard Podskalsky, Griechische Theologie in der Zeit der Türkenherrschaft (1453 – 1821) (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1988). 21. Dimitris G. Apostolopoulos, La Révolution Française et ses répercussions dans la société grecque sous domination ottomane: Reactions en 1798 (Athens, 1997). 22. Spyros N. Troianos/Charikleia G. Dimakopoulou, Εκκλησία και πολιτεία: Οι σχέσεις τους κατά τον 19ο αιώνα (1833 – 1852) (Athens and Komotini: Ant. N. Sakkoulas, 1999).

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23. Georgios D. Metallinos, Ἑλλαδικοῦ αὐτοκεφάλου παραλειπόμενα, 2d ed. (Athens: Domos, 1989). 24. Yiorgos Th. Printzipas, Οι μεγάλες κρίσεις στην Εκκλησία: Πέντε σταθμοί στις σχέσεις της Εκκλησίας της Ελλάδος και του Οικουμενικού Πατριαρχείου (Athens: Proskinio, 2004). 25. Vasilios Chr. Karayiorgos, Τό ζήτημα τῆς σχέσεως Ἐκκλησίας καί Πολιτείας κατά τήν περίοδο τῆς Ἐπαναστάσεως (1821) (Athens: Diigisi, 1998), 35 – 95. 26. Troianos/Dimakopoulou, Εκκλησία και πολιτεία, 115 – 16. 27. George Th. Mavrogordatos, “Orthodoxy and Nationalism in the Greek Case,” West European Politics 26 (2003): 117 – 36. 28. Philip Carabott, “Politics, Orthodoxy, and the Language Question in Greece: The Gospel Riots of November 1901,” Journal of Mediterranean Studies 3 (1993): 117 – 38. 29. Yiorgos Karayiannis, Εκκλησία και κράτος, 1833 – 1997: Ιστορική επισκόπηση των σχέσεών τους (Athens: To Pontiki, 1997). 30. Athanasios Basdekis, “Between Partnership and Separation: Relations Between Church and State in Greece Under the Constitution of 9 June 1975,” The Ecumenical Review 29 (1977): 52 – 61. 31. See Social Compass 51/4 (December 2004), an entire issue devoted to such controversies in contemporary Greece. 32. Vasilios N. Makrides, “The Orthodox Church and the Post-war Religious Situation in Greece,” in W. C. Roof/J. W. Carroll/D. A. Roozen (eds.), The Postwar Generation and Establishment Religion: Cross-cultural Perspectives (Boulder, CO: Westview, 1995), 225 – 42. 33. Kallistos Ware, “Old Calendarists,” in R. Clogg (ed.), Minorities in Greece: Aspects of a Plural Society (London: Hurst, 2002), 1 – 23. 34. Vasilios N. Makrides, “Aspects of Greek Orthodox Fundamentalism,” Orthodoxes Forum 5 (1991): 49 – 72; and idem, “L’‘autre’ orthodoxie: Courants du rigorisme orthodoxe grec,” Social Compass 51 (2004): 511 – 21. 35. Christoph Auffarth, “Die frühen Christentümer als lokale Religion,” Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum 7 (2003): 14 – 26. 36. Jonathan Smith, Drudgery Divine: On the Comparison of Early Christianities and the Religions of Late Antiquity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990); and Christoph Markschies, “Antiquity and Christianity or: The Unavoidability of False Problems,” in D. Brakke/A.-C. Jacobsen/J. Ulrich (eds.), Beyond Reception: Mutual Influences Between Antique Religion, Judaism, and Early Christianity (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2006), 17 – 33. 37. Manfred Clauss, The Roman Cult of Mithras: The God and His Mysteries (Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP, 2000). 38. Walter Burkert, Ancient Mystery Cults (Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1987), 3. 39. Justin Martyr, Apologia I, 54, PG, 6, 408 – 12; 66, PG, 6, 428 – 29.

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40. Dennis E. Smith, From Symposium to Eucharist: The Banquet in the Early Christian World (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003), 279. 41. Martin, Hellenistic Religions, 118 – 26. 42. Gregor Ahn, “Monotheismus und Polytheismus als religionswissenschaftliche Kategorien?” in M. Oeming/K. Schmid (eds.), Der eine Gott und die Götter: Polytheismus und Monotheismus im antiken Israel (Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 2003), 1 – 10. 43. Arnaldo Momigliano, “The Disadvantages of Monotheism for a Universal State,” Classical Philology 81 (1986): 285 – 97. For another view, see Garth Fowden, Empire to Commonwealth: Consequences of Monotheism in Late Antiquity (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1993). 44. Rodney Stark, The Rise of Christianity (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1996), 191 – 208. 45. Eusebius of Caesarea, De laudibus Constantini, 16, PG, 20, 1424. 46. Ernest Barker, Social and Political Thought in Byzantium (Oxford: Clarendon, 1957), 26 – 53. 47. Hussey, The Orthodox Church, 295 – 335. 48. Ibid., 220 – 94. 49. Rodney Stark, Historical Consequences of Monotheism (Princeton: Princeton UP, 2001). 50. ODB, s.v. “Triumph of Orthodoxy.” 51. John Meyendorff, “Continuities and Discontinuities in Byzantine Religious Thought,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers (henceforth DOP) 47 (1993): 69 – 81. 52. Andrew Louth/Augustine Casiday (eds.), Byzantine Orthodoxies (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2006). 53. Judith Herrin, The Formation of Christendom (London: Fontana, 1989). 54. Jörg Baur, “Orthodoxie, Genese, und Struktur,” Theologische Realenzyklopädie 25 (1995): 498 – 501 55. Ducas, Istoria turco-bizantină (1341 – 1462), ed. by V. Grecu (Bucharest, 1958), 329. 56. Eugenios Voulgaris (ed.), Ἰωσὴφ Μοναχοῦ τοῦ Βρυεννίου τὰ εὑρεθέντα (Leipzig, 1768), 2:23. 57. Wil van den Bercken, Holy Russia and Christian Europe (London: SCM Press, 1999), 133 – 44. 58. Vasilios N. Makrides, Die religiöse Kritik am kopernikanischen Weltbild in Griechenland zwischen 1794 und 1821 (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 1995). 59. Vasilios N. Makrides, “Greek Orthodox Compensatory Strategies Towards the Anglicans and the West at the Beginning of the Eighteenth Century,” in P. M. Doll (ed.), Anglicanism and Orthodoxy 300 Years After the “Greek College” in Oxford (Oxford: Peter Lang, 2006), 249 – 87. 60. Angeliki Skarveli-Nikolopoulou, “Σχέσεις Ἀλεξάνδρου Ἑλλαδίου καὶ Μάρ-

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κου Κυπρίου,” in Vasilios N. Makrides (ed.), Alexander Helladius the Larissaean (Larissa: Ethnographical Historical Museum of Larissa, 2003), 53 – 68. 61. Makrides, Die religiöse Kritik, 152 – 71. 62. Vasilios N. Makrides/Dirk Uffelmann, “Studying Eastern Orthodox AntiWesternism: The Need for a Comparative Research Agenda,” in J. Sutton/W. van den Bercken (eds.), Orthodox Christianity and Contemporary Europe (Leuven: Peeters, 2003), 87 – 120. 63. Peter Brown, Society and the Holy in Late Antiquity (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1982), 166 – 95. 64. Gerhard Podskalsky, Zur Hermeneutik des theologischen Ost-WestGesprächs in historischer Perspektive (Erfurt: Universität Erfurt, 2002), 6 – 9. 65. Vasilios N. Makrides, “Orthodoxes Christentum und westeuropäische Aufklärung: Ein unvollendetes Projekt?” Ökumenische Rundschau 57 (2008): 303 – 18. 66. Speros Vryonis Jr., “Recent Scholarship on Continuity and Discontinuity of Culture: Classical Greeks, Byzantines, Modern Greeks,” in Speros Vryonis Jr. (ed.), The “Past” in Medieval and Modern Greek Culture (Malibu: Undena Publications, 1978), 237 – 56. 67. Eugenios Kostaridis, Ἡ σύγχρονος ἑλληνικὴ Ἐκκλησία: Αἱ ὑπηρεσίαι τῆς Ἐκκλησίας πρὸς τὸ ἔθνος κατὰ τὴν λήξασαν ἑκατονταετηρίδα, 1821 – 1921 (Athens: Phoenix, 1921). 68. Vasilios N. Makrides, “Orthodoxie, griechische Ethnie und Nation, griechischer Nationalstaat und Nationalismus: Mythen und Realitäten,” in I. Keul (ed.), Religion, Ethnie und Nation und die Aushandlung von Identität(en) (Berlin: Frank und Timme, 2005), 67 – 92. 69. Paschalis M. Kitromilides, “Orthodoxy and Nationalism,” in J. Hutchinson/A. D. Smith (eds.), Ethnicity (Oxford: Oxford UP, 1996), 202 – 8. 70. Cyril Mango, Byzantium: The Empire of the New Rome (London: Phoenix, 1998), 13 – 31. 71. ODB, s.v. “Ecumenical Patriarch.” 72. Paschalis M. Kitromilides, An Orthodox Commonwealth: Symbolic Legacies and Cultural Encounters in Southeastern Europe (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2007). 73. ODB, s.v. “Language.” See also Anthony Kaldellis, Hellenism in Byzantium: The Transformation of Greek Identity and the Reception of the Classical Tradition (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2007), 64 – 69. 74. Procopius, De Bello Gothico, III, 1; and idem, De Bello Vandalico, I, 21. 75. Demetrios J. Constantelos, Christian Faith and Cultural Heritage (Boston: Somerset Hall, 2005), 67 – 85. 76. Maria Mantouvalou, “Romaios-Romios-Romiossyni: La notion de ‘Romain’ avant et après la chute de Constantinople,” Ἐπιστημονικὴ Ἐπετηρὶς τῆς Φιλοσοφικῆς Σχολῆς τοῦ Πανεπιστημίου Ἀθηνῶν, 2d ser., 28 (1979 – 85): 169 – 98. 77. ODB, s.v. “Rhomaios,” “Romania,” and “Rome.”

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78. Panayiotis K. Christou, Οἱ περιπέτειες τῶν ἐθνικῶν ὀνομάτων τῶν Ἑλλήνων, 2d ed. (Thessalonica: Kyromanos, 1989), 105 – 11. 79. Kilian Lechner, Hellenen und Barbaren im Weltbild der Byzantiner (Dissertation, University of Munich, 1954), 54 – 72; and Christou, Οἱ περιπέτειες, 129 – 38. 80. Anna Comnena, Alexias, 15, 7. 81. Michael Angold, “Byzantine ‘Nationalism’ and the Nicaean Empire,” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies (henceforth BMGS) 1 (1975): 49 – 70. 82. Spyridon P. Lambros, Παλαιoλόγεια καὶ Πελoπovvησιακά (Athens, 1926), 3:152. 83. ODB, s.v. “Hellenes.” 84. Ioannis Karmiris, Dogmatica et Symbolica Monumenta Orthodoxae Catholicae Ecclesiae, 2d ed. (Graz: Akademische Druck- und Verlagsanstalt, 1968), 2:869. 85. Christou, Οἱ περιπέτειες, 139 – 45. 86. Paris Gounaridis, Γένος Ρωμαίων: Βυζαντινὲς καὶ νεοελληνικὲς ἑρμηνεῖες (Athens: Idryma Goulandri-Horn, 1996). 87. John S. Koliopoulos/Thanos M. Veremis, Greece: The Modern Sequel: From 1821 to the Present (London: Hurst, 2004), 42 – 151. 88. Herbert Hunger, Phänomen Byzanz — aus europäischer Sicht (Munich: Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1984). 89. Christou, Οἱ περιπέτειες, 113 – 23. 90. Herrin, The Formation, 445 – 76. 91. Anton von Euw/Peter Schreiner (eds.), Kaiserin Theophanu: Begegnung des Ostens und Westens um die Wende des ersten Jahrtausends, 2 vols. (Cologne: Schnütgen-Museum, 1991). 92. Kenneth M. Setton, “The Byzantine Background to the Italian Renaissance,” Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 100 (1956): 1 – 76; and Jonathan Harris, Greek Emigres in the West, 1400 – 1520 (Camberley, Surrey: Porphyrogenitus, 1995), 119 – 49. 93. Ernst Benz, Die Ostkirche im Lichte der protestantischen Geschichtsschreibung von der Reformation bis zur Gegenwart (Freiburg im Breisgau: Alber, 1952). 94. Herbert Hunger, Byzantinismus: Nachwirkungen byzantinischer Verhaltensweisen bis in die Gegenwart (Männedorf: Ordenskanzlei, 1975). 95. Larry Wolff, The Enlightenment and the Orthodox World: Western Perspectives on the Orthodox Church in Eastern Europe (Athens: Institute for Neohellenic Research, 2001). 96. Suzanne L. Marchand, Down from Olympus: Archaeology and Philhellenism in Germany, 1750 – 1970 (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1996), 33. 97. Marius Byron Raizis, “Lord Byron and Greek Orthodoxy,” Balkan Studies 27 (1986): 89 – 104. 98. Kallistos Ware, “The Fifth Earl of Guilford and his Secret Conversion to the Orthodox Church,” in Doll (ed.), Anglicanism, 289 – 326.

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99. David Roessel, In Byron’s Shadow: Modern Greece in the English and American Imagination (Oxford: Oxford UP, 2002), 99 – 284. 100. Ibid., 133. 101. Ibid., 190. 102. Christian Meier, “Die griechisch-römische Tradition,” in H. Joas/K. Wiegandt (eds.), Die kulturellen Werte Europas (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, 2005), 93 – 116. Notes to Chapter 3 1. Mark Mazower, Salonica: City of Ghosts: Christian, Muslims, and Jews, 1430 – 1950 (London: Harper Perennial, 2005), 474 – 75. 2. Ibid., 471 – 72. 3. Arnaldo Momigliano, Alien Wisdom: The Limits of Hellenization (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1978), 97 – 122. 4. Peter Schäfer, Judeophobia: Attitudes Toward the Jews in the Ancient World (Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1997). 5. Basil of Caesarea, Homilia XXIV, 1, PG, 31, 600. 6. Momigliano, Alien Wisdom, 86 – 87. 7. Nicholas P. Stavroulakis/Timothy J. DeVinney, Jewish Sites and Synagogues of Greece (Athens: Talos, 1992), 26 – 29, 30 – 34, 47, 68 – 73. 8. Josephus, Contra Apionem, I, 176 – 83. 9. Momigliano, Alien Wisdom, 85 – 86. 10. Martin Hengel, Judentum und Hellenismus, 2d ed. (Tübingen: Mohr, 1988). 11. Momigliano, Alien Wisdom, 97 – 112. 12. Rae Dalven, The Jews of Ioannina (Athens: Lycabettus, 1990). 13. Alan D. Crown, “The Samaritans in the Byzantine Orbit,” Bulletin of John Rylands Library 69 (1986): 96 – 138. 14. Steven B. Bowman, The Jews of Byzantium, 1204 – 1453 (Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 1985); and David Jacoby, Byzantium, Latin Romania, and the Mediterranean (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2001), chap. 3. 15. John Chrysostom, Discourses Against Judaizing Christians, transl. by Paul W. Harkins (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1999). 16. The Homilies of Photius Patriarch of Constantinople, transl. by Cyril Mango (Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1958), 279 – 82, 288 – 89. 17. David J. Halperin, Sabbatai Zevi: Testimonies to a Fallen Messiah (Oxford: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2007). 18. Vasilios N. Makrides, “Nicéphore Théotokès,” in C. G. Conticello/V. Conticello (eds.), La théologie byzantine et sa tradition (Turnhout: Brepols, 2002), 2:858 – 59. 19. Ἀνατροπὴ τῆς Θρησκείας τῶν Ἑβραίων καὶ τῶν ἐθίμων αὐτῶν, transl. by Ioannis Georgiou (Jassy: Elliniki Typographia, 1818).

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20. Ioannis V. Menounos, Κοσμᾶ τοῦ Αἰτωλοῦ Διδαχές (καὶ Βιογραφία), 2d ed. (Athens: Tinos, 1979), 175, 177, 202 – 6, 241 – 44, 251 – 53, 257, 275 – 78, 293, 298 – 99. 21. Sergios Makraios, Ἐραστὴς σοφίας ὑπὸ τῶν Θείων Γραφῶν ὁδηγούμενος (Constantinople, 1816), 55 – 56. 22. Eugenios Voulgaris, “Σχεδίασμα περὶ τῆς ἀνεξιθρησκείας,” in [Voltaire], Περὶ τῶν διχονοιῶν τῶν ἐν ταῖς Ἐκκλησίαις τῆς Πολονίας, (Leipzig, 1768), 233 – 34, 272 – 73. 23. Jakob Ludwig Salomon Bartholdy, Bruchstücke zur nähern Kenntniss des heutigen Griechenlands gesammelt auf einer Reise im Jahre 1803 – 1804 (Berlin, 1805). 24. Bernard Pierron, Juifs et chrétiens de la Grèce moderne (Paris: L’Harmattan, 1996), 15 – 21; and Katherine E. Fleming, Greece: A Jewish History (Princeton: Princeton UP, 2008), 15 – 18. 25. Yiannis Kairofylas, Η ιστορία της συνοικίας του Ψυρή (Athens: Philippotis, 2000), 102 – 4; Pierron, Juifs et chrétiens, 24 – 26; and Fleming, Greece, 23 – 29. 26. Stefanos Giannopoulos, Συλλογὴ τῶν ἐγκυκλίων τῆς Ἱερᾶς Συνόδου τῆς Ἐκκλησίας τῆς Ἑλλάδος (Athens: A. Kalarakis, 1901), 405 – 6. 27. Pierron, Juifs et chrétiens, 35 – 39; and Fleming, Greece, 34 – 41. 28. Gilles Veinstein (ed.), Salonique, 1850 – 1919: La “ville des Juifs” et le réveil des Balkans (Paris: Autrement, 1992); and Fleming, Greece, 49 – 66. 29. Rena Molho, “The Jewish Community of Salonica and Its Incorporation into the Greek State, 1912 – 1919,” Middle Eastern Studies 24 (1988): 391 – 403. 30. Pierron, Juifs et chrétiens, 91 – 203; and Fleming, Greece, 67 – 109. 31. Steven Bowman, “Jews,” in Clogg (ed.), Minorities, 64 – 80. 32. Photini Constantopoulou/Thanos Veremis (eds.), Documents on the History of the Greek Jews: Records from the Historical Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (Athens: Kastaniotis, 2001), 250 – 56. 33. Yiorgos Margaritis, Ανεπιθύμητοι συμπατριώτες: Στοιχεία για την καταστροφή των μειονοτήτων της Ελλάδας (Athens: Vivliorama, 2005), 91 – 132. 34. Joshua Eli Plaut, Greek Jewry in the Twentieth Century, 1913 – 1983: Patterns of Jewish Survival in the Greek Provinces Before and After the Holocaust (London: Associated University Presses, 1996), 93 – 168; and Fleming, Greece, 166 – 89. 35. Frangiski Ambatzopoulou, Το Ολοκαύτωμα στις μαρτυρίες των Ελλήνων Εβραίων (Thessalonica: Paratiritis, 1993). 36. Relevant texts in Ramsay MacMullen/Eugene N. Lane (eds.), Paganism and Christianity, 100 – 425 C.E.: A Sourcebook (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992), 152 – 63. 37. See the entries “Hellenistic Jewish Literature,” “Greek Literature, Ancient” and “Greek Literature, Modern” in the Encyclopedia Judaica. 38. Yaacov Shavit, Athens in Jerusalem: Classical Antiquity and Hellenism in the Making of the Modern Secular Jew (London: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 1997).

Notes to Chapter 3 289

39. Steven B. Bowman, “Jews,” Encyclopedia of Greece and the Hellenic Tradition 1 (2000): 842 – 46. 40. David B. Levenson, “The Ancient and Medieval Sources for the Emperor Julian’s Attempt to Rebuild the Jerusalem Temple,” Journal for the Study of Judaism 35 (2004): 409 – 60. 41. Vlasis G. Rassias, Έθνος, εθνισμός, εθνοκράτος, εθνικισμός (Athens: Anoichti Poli, 2006). 42. Kostas Plevris, Οἱ Ἑβραῖοι: Ὅλη ἡ ἀλήθεια (Athens: Ilektron, 2006). 43. Ioannis P. Fourakis, Τά (προμηνύματα) τῶν Δελφῶν καί ὁ Σιωνιστικός Πύθων: Ὁ τελικός πόλεμος ( Ἑ)λλήνων-Σιωνιστῶν, 2d ed. (Athens: Talos, 1989). 44. Daniel Perdurant, “Antisemitism in Contemporary Greek Society,” Analysis of Current Trends in Antisemitism 7 (1995), available at http://sicsa.huji.ac.il/7perd. htm. 45. See the review of this book by Panayiotis Simotas in Θεολογία 68 (1997): 608 – 11. 46. Makrides, “Aspects,” 56 – 57. 47. George C. Papademetriou, “An Encyclical of the Ecumenical Patriarch Metrophanes III (1520 – 1580) Condemning the Oppression of Jews,” Journal of Ecumenical Studies 26 (1989): 338 – 40. 48. George C. Papademetriou, Essays on Orthodox Christian – Jewish Relations (Bristol, IN: Wyndham Hall, 1990). 49. Johannes Oeldemann, “Orthodoxe Theologen im interreligiösen Dialog mit dem Judentum und dem Islam,” Catholica 3 (2003): 197 – 99. 50. Franz Rosenthal, The Classical Heritage in Islam (London: Routledge, 1994); and Dimitri Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture (New York: Routledge, 2005). 51. Johann Strauss, “Graeco-turcica: Die Muslime in Griechenland und ihr Beitrag zur osmanischen Kultur,” in R. Lauer/P. Schreiner (eds.), Die Kultur Griechenlands in Mittelalter und Neuzeit (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht 1996), 325 – 51. 52. Yiorgos Kechagioglou, “ Ἡ πρώτη ἔντυπη ἑλληνικὴ μετάφραση ἀπὸ τὴν τουρκικὴ λογοτεχνία (1800),” Δελτίο Κέντρου Μικρασιατικῶν Σπουδῶν 12 (1997 – 98): 155 – 67. 53. John Meyendorff, “Byzantine Views of Islam,” DOP 18 (1964): 113 – 32; and Adel Theodor Khoury, Apologétique Byzantine contre l’Islam (VIII. – XIII. s.) (Altenberge: Verlag für Christlich-Islamisches Schrifttum, 1982). 54. Evangelos Chrysos (ed.), Ἡ Ἅλωση τῆς Πόλης (Athens: Akritas, 1994). 55. Stavro Skendi, “Crypto-Christianity in the Balkan Area Under the Ottomans,” Slavic Review 26 (1967): 227 – 46; and Yiorgos Th. Printzipas, Οἱ Κρυπτοχριστιανοί (Athens: Ellinika Grammata, 1997), 121 – 71. 56. Astérios Argyriou, Les exégèses grecques de l’Apocalypse à l’époque turque (1453 – 1821) (Thessalonica: Etaireia Makedonikon Spoudon, 1982).

290 Notes to Chapter 3

57. Georgios Metallinos, Ἑλληνισμός μαχόμενος (Athens: Tinos, 1995), 41 – 68. 58. Bruce Clark, Twice a Stranger: How Mass Expulsion Forged Modern Greece and Turkey (London: Granta, 2006). 59. Roland Meinardus, “Muslims: Turks, Pomaks, and Gypsies,” in Clogg (ed.), Minorities, 81 – 93. 60. Dimitris A. Antoniou, “Muslim Immigrants in Greece: Religious Organization and Local Responses,” Immigrants and Minorities 22 (2003): 155 – 74. 61. Sevasti Trubeta, “ ‘Minorisation’ and ‘Ethnicisation’ in Greek Society: Comparative Perspectives on Muslim Immigrants and the Thracian Muslim Minority,” Jahrbücher für Geschichte und Kultur Südosteuropas 5 (2003): 95 – 112. 62. Clifford E. Bosworth, “Rūm. 2: Relations Between the Islamic Powers and the Byzantines,” The Encyclopaedia of Islam 8 (1995): 604. 63. Nadia Maria El Cheikh, Byzantium Viewed by the Arabs (Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 2004), 189 – 207. 64. Stephen W. Reinert, “The Muslim Presence in Constantinople, 9th – 15th Centuries: Some Preliminary Observations,” in H. Ahrweiler/A. E. Laiou (eds.), Studies on the Internal Diaspora of the Byzantime Empire (Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, 1998), 125 – 50; see also El Cheikh, Byzantiuim, 64, 210 – 11. 65. George C. Miles, “The Arab Mosque in Athens,” Hesperia 25 (1956): 329 – 44. 66. Bowman, The Jews, 69 – 70. 67. Gerhard Podskalsky, “Ein Reich, ein Kaiser, ein Glaube — unter dem Halbmond?” Philotheos: International Journal for Philosophy and Theology 1 (2001): 255 – 60. 68. Elizabeth A. Zachariadou, “The Neomartyr’s Message,” Δελτίο Κέντρου Μικρασιατικῶν Σπουδῶν 8 (1990 – 91): 51 – 63. 69. Halil Inalcık, “The Status of the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate Under the Ottomans,” Turcica 22 – 23 (1991): 407 – 36. 70. Aristeides Papadakis, “Gennadius II and Mehmet the Conqueror,” Byzantion 42 (1972): 88 – 106. 71. Richard Clogg, “The ‘Dhidhaskalia Patriki’ (1798): An Orthodox Reaction to French Revolutionary Propaganda,” Middle Eastern Studies 5 (1969): 104. 72. Manolis G. Varvounis, “A Contribution to the Study of Influences of Christian upon Moslem Customs in Popular Worship,” Journal of Oriental and African Studies 5 (1993): 75 – 89; and Eustratios Zenginis, Ὁ Μπεκτατισμός στή Δ. Θράκη: Συμβολή στήν ἱστορία τῆς διαδόσεως τοῦ μουσουλμανισμοῦ στόν ἑλλαδικό χῶρο (Thessalonica: Institute for Balkan Studies, 1988). 73. Speros Vryonis Jr., “Religious Changes and Patterns in the Balkans, 14th – 16th Centuries,” in H. Birnbaum/Sp. Vryonis Jr. (eds.), Aspects of the Balkans: Continuity and Change (The Hague: Mouton, 1972), 172 – 76. 74. Georgios Tsigaras (ed.), Τά θρησκευτικά μνημεῖα τοῦ Νομοῦ Ξάνθης ( χριστιανικά— μουσουλμανικά — ἑβραϊκά) (Xanthi: Perifereia Anatolikis MakedoniasThrakis, Iera Mitropolis Xanthis, and Moufteia Xanthis, 2005).

Notes to Chapter 3 291

75. Ioannis M. Chatziphotis, Ἀρχιεπίσκοπος Σεραφείμ, 1913 – 1998: Μαρτυρίες καὶ τεκμήρια (Athens: Ellinika Grammata, 1998), 293 – 305. 76. George C. Papademetriou, “Two Traditions, One Space: Orthodox Christians and Muslims in Dialogue,” Islam and Christian-Muslim Relations 15 (2004): 55 – 64. 77. Keith Hopkins, A World Full of Gods: Pagans, Jews, and Christians in the Roman Empire (London: Phoenix, 2000). 78. Hans-Georg Beck, Vom Umgang mit Ketzern: Der Glaube der kleinen Leute und die Macht der Theologen (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1993). 79. Janet Hamilton/Bernard Hamilton/Yuri Stoyanov, Christian Dualist Heresies in the Byzantine World, c. 650 – c. 1450: Selected Sources (Manchester: Manchester UP, 1998). 80. Anna Comnena, Alexias, XV, 8 – 10. 81. ODB, s.v. “Messalians.” 82. Mango, Byzantium, 88 – 104. 83. Frank R. Trombley, “Paganism in the Greek World at the End of Antiquity: The Case of Rural Anatolia and Greece,” Harvard Theological Review 78 (1985): 349 – 52. 84. Stephan Nikolov, “The Pagan Bulgars and Byzantine Christianity in the Eighth and Ninth Centuries,” Journal of Historical Sociology 13 (2000): 325 – 64. 85. Leo VI, Tactica, PG, 107, 969. 86. George Huxley, Monemvasia and the Slavs (Athens, 1988). 87. Charles Frazee, “Catholics,” in Clogg (ed.), Minorities, 24 – 47. 88. Hans-Georg Beck, “Die ‘Apologia pro vita sua’ des Demetrios Kydones,” Ostkirchliche Studien 1 (1952): 210 – 12. 89. Charles Frazee, Catholics and Sultans: The Church and the Ottoman Empire, 1453 – 1923 (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1983). 90. Gunnar Hering, Οἰκουμενικὸ Πατριαρχεῖο καὶ εὐρωπαϊκὴ πολιτικὴ, 1620 – 1638 (Athens: Morfotiko Idryma Ethnikis Trapezis, 1992). 91. Emmanouil N. Frangiskos, “« Ἀόρατος Πόλεμος» (1796), «Γυμνάσματα Πνευματικά» (1800): Ἡ πατρότητα τῶν «μεταφράσεων» τοῦ Νικόδημου Ἁγιορείτη,” Ὁ Ἐρανιστής 19 (1993): 102 – 35. 92. George Mastrantonis, Augsburg and Constantinople: The Correspondence Between the Tübingen Theologians and Patriarch Jeremiah II of Constantinople on the Augsburg Confession (Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 1982). 93. Sofi N.-Papageorgiou, Αμερικανοί ιεραπόστολοι στην Ελλάδα, 1820 – 1850 (Athens: Dodoni 2001); and Polli Thanailaki, Αμερική και Προτεσταντισμός: Η «Ευαγγελική Αυτοκρατορία» και οι οραματισμοί των Αμερικανών Μισιοναρίων για την Ελλάδα το 19ο αιώνα (Athens: Kastaniotis, 2005). 94. John S. Koliopoulos, Ἡ «πέραν» Ἑλλάς καί οἱ «ἄλλοι» Ἕλληνες: Τό σύγχρονο ἑλληνικό ἔθνος καί οἱ ἑτερόγλωσσοι σύνοικοι Χριστιανοί (Thessalonica: Vanias, 2003).

292 Notes to Chapter 3

95. Tasos Kostopoulos, “Counting the ‘Other’: Official Census and Classified Statistics in Greece (1830 – 2001),” Jahrbücher für Geschichte und Kultur Südosteuropas 5 (2003): 55 – 78. 96. Elpida K. Vogli, « Έλληνες το γένος»: Η ιθαγένεια και η ταυτότητα στο εθνικό κράτος των Ελλήνων (1821 – 1844) (Irakleio: Panepistimiakes Ekdoseis Kritis, 2007). 97. Cited in Kallistos Ware, “The Church: A Time of Transition,” in R. Clogg (ed.), Greece in the 1980s (London: Macmillan, 1983), 208. 98. Antonis L. Smyrnaios, Μετέωρος ζήλος: Προτεσταντική προπαιδεία και Νεοελληνική Εκπαίδευση κατά το 19o αιώνα (Athens: Psifida, 2006). 99. Giannopoulos, Συλλογή, 402 – 5. 100. Antonis G. Kalfas/Paris A. Papageorgiou, Ο Συνοικισμός Ευαγγελικών της Κατερίνης (1923 – 2000) (Katerini: Elliniki Evangeliki Ekklisia Katerinis, 2001). 101. John O. Iatrides, “Evangelicals,” in Clogg (ed.), Minorities, 48 – 63. 102. Angelos N. Vallianatos, Από την ιεραποστολή στην επικοινωνία: Η περίπτωση της παρουσίας των Μεννονιτών στην Ελλάδα, 1950 – 1977 (Athens: Artos Zois, 1999). 103. Yiannis Karas (ed.), Πανελλήνιο Συνέδριο «Θεόφιλος Καΐρης». Πρακτικά (Athens: Gutenberg, 1988). 104. Stephanos Stavros, “The Legal Status of Minorities in Greece Today: The Adequacy of their Protection in the Light of Current Human Rights Perceptions,” Journal of Modern Greek Studies (henceforth JMGS) 13 (1995): 1 – 32; and idem, “Human Rights in Greece: Twelve Years of Supervision from Strasbourg,” JMGS 17 (1999): 3 – 21. 105. Ruby Gropas/Anna Triandafyllidou, Migration in Greece at a Glance (Athens: Eliamep, 2005), 5; and Ross Fakiolas, “Greece,” in S. Angenendt (ed.), Asylum and Migration Policies in the European Union (Bonn: Europa-UnionVerlag, 1999), 202. 106. Adamantia Pollis, “Greek National Identity: Religious Minorities, Rights, and European Norms,” JMGS 10 (1992): 171 – 95; and eadem, “Eastern Orthodoxy and Human Rights,” Human Rights Quarterly 15 (1993): 339 – 56. 107. Vasilios N. Makrides, “Orthodoxes Christentum, Pluralismus, Zivilgesellschaft,” in A. Gotzmann/V. N. Makrides/J. Malik//J. Rüpke (eds.), Pluralismus in der europäischen Religionsgeschichte (Marburg: diagonal-Verlag, 2001), 53 – 78. N o t e s t o Pa r t 2 1. Ramsay MacMullen, Christianity and Paganism in the Fourth to Eighth Centuries (New Haven: Yale UP, 1997), 13.

Notes to Chapter 4 293

Notes to Chapter 4 1. Clyde Pharr (ed.), The Theodosian Code and Novels and the Sirmondian Constitutions (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1952), 476. 2. Tertullian, Liber de praescriptionibus adversus haereticos, VII, Patrologia Latina 2, 20 – 21. 3. Robert M. Grant, Greek Apologists of the Second Century (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1988), 36 – 39; and Klaus-Gunther Essig, “Erwägungen zum geschichtlichen Ort der Apologie des Aristides,” Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte 97 (1986): 163 – 88. 4. Grant, Greek Apologists, 100 – 111. See the long excerpts from Athenagoras’s work in MacMullen/Lane (eds.), Paganism, 173 – 98. 5. Pliny, Letters, 10.98 – 99, in MacMullen/Lane (eds.), Paganism, 164 – 66. 6. Dieter Lührmann, “Superstitio — die Beurteilung des frühen Christentums durch die Römer,” Theologische Zeitschrift 42 (1986): 193 – 213. 7. Joseph J. Walsh, “On Christian Atheism,” Vigiliae Christianae 45 (1991): 255 – 77. 8. See a complete chronology in MacMullen/Lane (eds.), Paganism, 218 – 19. 9. Ibid., 219 – 39. 10. Ibid., 168. 11. Stephen Benko, “Pagan Criticism of Christianity During the First Two Centuries A.D.,” in Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt, II.23.2. (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1980), 1077. 12. Origen, Contra Celsum, transl. with introduction and notes by Henry Chadwick (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1986); and new critical edition of the Greek original by M. Marcovich (Leiden: Brill, 2001). 13. Panayiotis Tzamalikos, in Origen: Philosophy of History and Eschatology (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 422 – 34, argues, however, for the unpopular thesis that Origen was, in many respects, an anti-Platonist. 14. Robert M. Berchman, Porphyry Against the Christians (Leiden: Brill, 2005). 15. Wolfgang Speyer, “Hierokles I,” Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum (henceforth RAC) 15 (1991): 103 – 9. 16. Peter R. L. Brown, “The Rise and Function of the Holy Man in Late Antiquity,” The Journal of Roman Studies (henceforth JRS) 61 (1971): 90 – 101; and Garth Fowden, “The Pagan Holy Man in Late Antique Society,” The Journal of Hellenic Studies (henceforth JHS) 102 (1982): 33 – 59. 17. Andy M. Reimer, Miracle and Magic: A Study in the Acts of the Apostles and the Life of Apollonius of Tyana (London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002). 18. Karl Leo Noethlichs, “Heidenverfolgung,” RAC 13 (1986): 1149 – 90. 19. The Theodosian Code, XVI.1.2 (Pharr, 440). 20. I rely here on the list found in the introduction to the Code Théodosien, Livre XVI, Sources Chrétiennes 497 (Paris: Cerf, 2005), 37 – 52.

294 Notes to Chapter 4

21. The Theodosian Code, XVI.10.24 (Pharr, 476). 22. Alan Cameron, “The Empress and the Poet: Paganism and Politics at the Court of Theodosius II,” Yale Classical Studies 27 (1982): 217 – 89. 23. Constantelos, Christian Hellenism, 25 – 34. 24. Christian Lacombrade, “Hypatia,” RAC 16 (1994): 956 – 67. 25. Afentra G. Moutzali, “Από τον παγανισμό στον Χριστιανισμό: Παλαιοχριστιανικές βασιλικές της Ελλάδος που προήλθαν από μετατροπή αρχαίων Ιερών,” Αρχαιολογία 49 (1993): 25 – 34. 26. Vincent Déroche, “Delphes: La christianisation d’un sanctuaire païen,” in Actes du XIe Congrès international d’Archéologie chrétienne (Rome: École française de Rome, 1989), 3:2713 – 23. 27. Hetherington, The Greek Islands, 294 – 95. 28. Pedley, Sanctuaries, 221. 29. Angelos Chaniotis/Joannis Mylonopoulos, “Epigraphic Bulletin for Greek Religion, 2004,” Kernos 20 (2007): 299. 30. Angelos Chaniotis/Joannis Mylonopoulos, “Epigraphic Bulletin for Greek Religion, 2001,” Kernos 17 (2004): 215. 31. Yiota Myrtsioti, “Χριστιανικό πυρ στο παγανιστικό υπαίθριο ιερό,” Η Καθημερινή, 25 February 2007. 32. Frank Trombley, Hellenic Religion and Christianization, c. 370 – 529, 2d ed. (Leiden: Brill, 1995), 1:292, 307 – 24; and Cyril Mango, “The Conversion of the Parthenon into a Church: The Tübingen Theosophy,” Δελτίον τῆς Χριστιανικῆς Ἀρχαιολογικῆς Ἑταιρείας 18 (1995): 201 – 3. 33. Alison Frantz, “From Paganism to Christianity in the Temples of Athens,” DOP 19 (1965): 201 – 5; and eadem, “Athen II (stadtgeschichtlich),” RAC 1 (2001): S685 – S686. 34. M. Alison Frantz, “Multum in Parvo: The Aegean Island of Sikinos,” Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 127/2 (1983): 71 – 83. 35. Hetherington, The Greek Islands, 241. 36. Ludwig Deubner, Attische Feste (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1956), 248 – 54. 37. Bente Kiilerich, “Making Sense of the Spolia in the Little Metropolis in Athens,” Arte Medievale 4/2 (2005): 95 – 114, who decisively and almost certainly correctly redated this buidling. 38. Brown, Authority and the Sacred, 29 – 54. 39. Helen Saradi-Mendelovici, “Christian Attitudes Toward Pagan Monuments in Late Antiquity and Their Legacy in Later Byzantine Centuries,” DOP 44 (1990): 47 – 61. 40. Friedrich Wilhelm Deichmann, “Christianisierung II (Monumente),” RAC 2 (1954): 1228 – 41. 41. Jean-Michel Spieser, “La christianisation des sanctuaires païens en Grèce,” in U. Jantzen (ed.), Neue Forschungen in griechischen Heiligtümern (Tübingen: Wasmuth, 1976), 309 – 20.

Notes to Chapter 4 295

42. Trombley, Hellenic Religion, 1:117 – 22. See generally Johannes Hahn/Stephen Emmel/Ulrich Gotter (eds.), From Temple to Church: Destruction and Renewal of Local Cultic Topography in Late Antiquity (Leiden: Brill, 2008). 43. Richard M. Rothaus, Corinth: The First City of Greece (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 32 – 125. 44. Emmanuel Amand de Mendieta, “The Official Attitude of Basil of Caesarea as a Christian Bishop Towards Greek Philosophy and Science,” in D. Baker (ed.), The Orthodox Churches and the West (Oxford: Blackwell, 1976), 25 – 49. 45. George L. Kustas, Studies in Byzantine Rhetoric (Thessalonica: Patriarchiko Idryma Paterikon Meleton, 1973), 39 – 62. 46. Ibid., 27 – 38. 47. Herbert Hunger, “The Classical Tradition in Byzantine Literature: The Importance of Rhetoric,” in M. Mullett/R. Scott (eds.), Byzantium and the Classical Tradition (Birmingham: Center for Byzantine Studies, University of Birmingham, 1981), 38. 48. English translations are taken from Jaroslav Pelikan, Christianity and Classical Culture: The Metamorphosis of Natural Theology in the Christian Encounter with Hellenism (New Haven: Yale UP, 1993), 15 – 16. 49. A. D. Lee, Pagans and Christians in Late Antiquity: A Sourcebook (London: Routledge, 2000), 257. 50. Konstantinos A. Trypanis (ed.), Fourteen Early Byzantine Cantica (Vienna: Böhlau im Komm, 1968), 36 – 37. 51. Cited in Adrian Murdoch, The Last Pagan: Julian the Apostate and the Death of the Ancient World (Phoenix Mill, UK: Sutton Publishing, 2003), 162. 52. Ibid., 202 – 24. 53. Athanassiadi, Julian, 121 – 60. 54. Brown, Society and the Holy, 83 – 102. 55. Gilbert Dagron, “L’empire romain d’Orient au IVe siècle et les traditions politiques de l’hellénisme: Le témoignage de Themistios,” Travaux et Mémoires 3 (1968): 1 – 242. 56. Jorit Wintjes, Das Leben des Libanius (Rahden: Leidorf, 2005), 191 – 218. 57. Sozomenos, Historia ecclesiastica, VIII, 2, PG, 67, 1513. 58. Claudia Tiersch, Johannes Chrysostomus in Konstantinopel (398 – 404) (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000), 183 – 264. 59. Helena Cichocka, “Zosimus’ Account of Christianity,” in M. Salamon (ed.), Paganism in the Later Roman Empire and in Byzantium (Cracow: Universitas, 1991), 89 – 104. 60. Johannes Irmscher, “Paganismus im Justinianischen Reich,” Klio 63 (1981): 683 – 88. 61. Hiroshi Wada, “ Ἓλλην als Seelenverderber in der frühbyzantinischen Gesellschaft?” Βυζαντινά 13/2 (1985): 787 – 814. 62. Codex Iustinianus, I.11.10 (Krüger, 96).

296 Notes to Chapter 4

63. Procopius, Anecdota, XIX, 11. 64. Codex Iustinianus, I.5.18 (Krüger, 83). 65. Edward Watts, “Justinian, Malalas, and the End of the Athenian Philosophical Teaching in A.D. 529,” JRS 94 (2004): 168 – 82; and Anthony Kaldellis, The Christian Parthenon: Classicism and Pilgrimage in Byzantine Athens (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2009), chap. 2. 66. Ioannis Karmiris, Dogmatica et Symbolica Monumenta Orthodoxae Catholicae Ecclesiae, 2d ed. (Graz: Akademische Druck- und Verlagsanstalt, 1968), 1:180 – 200. 67. Ilse Rochow, “Der Vorwurf des Heidentums als Mittel der innenpolitischen Polemik in Byzanz,” in Salamon (ed.), Paganism, 133 – 52. 68. Vasilis Katsaros, “Leo the Mathematician: His Literary Presence in Byzantium During the 9th Century,” in P. L. Butzer/D. Lohrmann (eds.), Science in Western and Eastern Civilization in Carolingian Times (Basle: Birkkhäuser, 1993), 383 – 98. 69. Paul Magdalino, “In Search of the Byzantine Courtier: Leo Choirosphaktes and Constantine Manasses,” in H. Maguire (ed.), Byzantine Court Culture from 820 to 1204 (Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 1997), 141 – 65. 70. Gerhard Podskalsky, Philosophie und Theologie in Byzanz (Munich: Beck, 1977), 34 – 48, passim. 71. Paul Lemerle, Le premier humanisme byzantin: Notes et remarques sur enseignement et culture à Byzance des origines au Xe siècle (Paris: PUF, 1971). 72. Robert Browning, “Enlightenment and Repression in Byzantium in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries,” Past and Present 69 (1975): 3 – 23. 73. Antonio Garzya, “On Michael Psellus’ Admission of Faith,” Ἐπετηρὶς Ἑταιρείας Βυζαντινῶν Σπουδῶν 35 (1966 – 67): 41 – 46. 74. Louis Behier, “Un discours inédit de Psellos: Accusation du patriarch Michel Cérulaire devant le synode (1059),” Revue des Études Grecques 16 (1903): 375 – 446; 17 (1904): 35 – 75. 75. Lowell Clucas, The Trial of John Italos and the Crisis of Intellectual Values in Byzantium in the Eleventh Century (Munich: Institut für Byzantinistik, Neugriechische Philologie, und Byzantinische Kunstgeschichte, 1981), 26 – 73. 76. Antony C. Lloyd, “The Aristotelianism of Eustratios of Nicaea,” in J. Wiesner (ed.), Aristoteles: Werk und Wirkung (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1987), 2:341 – 51. 77. Jean Gouillard, “Le Synodikon de l’Orthodoxie: Édition et commentaire,” Travaux et Mémoires 2 (1967): 56 – 61 (on Italos), 68 – 71 (on Eustratios). 78. Steven Runciman, “Byzantine and Hellene in the Fourteenth Century,” in Τόμoς Κωvσταvτίvoυ Ἁρμεvoπoύλoυ (Thessalonica: University of Thessalonica, 1952), 27–31. 79. Rochow, “Der Vorwurf,” 154 – 56.

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80. Gennadius Scholarios, Contra Judaeum, in Oeuvres Complètes, ed. by L. Petit/X. A. Sidéridès/M. Jugie (Paris: Maison de la Bonne Presse, 1930), 3:253. 81. Elizabeth A. Zachariadou, “The Great Church in Captivity 1453 – 1586,” in Michael Angold (ed.), The Cambridge History of Christianity, vol. 5, Eastern Christianity (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2006), 169 – 86. 82. George Karamanolis, “Plethon and Scholarios on Aristotle,” in K. Ierodiakonou (ed.), Byzantine Philosophy and Its Ancient Sources (Oxford: Clarendon, 2002), 253 – 82. 83. Nikos K. Psimmenos, “ Ὕβρις καὶ ἐπιχείρημα: Ὁ Ματθαῖος Καμαριώτης γιὰ τὸν Γεώργιο Γεμιστό-Πλήθωνα,” Δωδώνη 52/3 (2003): 49 – 101. 84. Nikos Psimmenos, “ Ὁ «Λόγος» τοῦ Μανουὴλ Κορινθίου «κατὰ Γεμιστοῦ καὶ Βησσαρίωνος»,” in Νεοελληνικὴ παιδεία καὶ κοινωνία (Athens: Omilos Meletis tou Ellinikou Diafotismou, 1995), 15 – 27. 85. Henri Grégoire, “Les manuscrits de Julien et le mouvement néo-païen de Mistra: Démétrius Rhallis et Gémiste Pléthon,” Byzantion 5 (1929 – 30): 730 – 36. 86. Constantelos, Christian Hellenism, 67 – 73. 87. John Monfasani, Byzantine Scholars in Renaissance Italy: Cardinal Bessarion and Other Emigrés: Selected Essays (Aldershot, UK: Variorum, 1995). 88. Polychronis Enepekides, “Maximos Margounios an deutsche und italienische Humanisten,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 10 (1961): 94 – 145. 89. Linos Benakis, Μεταβυζαντινὴ φιλοσοφία (Athens: Parousia, 2001), 25 – 99. 90. Anna Tabaki, “Byzance à travers les Lumières néohelléniques (début du XVIIIe siècle–1830),” in K. Fledelius/P. Schreiner (eds.), Byzantium: Identity, Image, Influence: Part 1: Major Papers: XIX International Congress of Byzantine Studies, University of Copenhagen, 18–24 August 1996 (Copenhagen: National Committee for Byzantine Studies, 1996), 318–35. 91. C. W. J. Eliot, “Lord Byron, Early Travelers, and the Monastery at Delphi,” American Journal of Archaeology 71 (1967): 283 – 91. 92. Richard Clogg, “Sense of the Past in Pre-independence Greece,” in R. Sussex/J. C. Eade (eds.), Culture and Nationalism in Nineteenth-Century Eastern Europe (Columbus, OH: Slavica Publishers, 1985), 7–30; and Peter Mackridge, “The Return of the Muses: Some Aspects of Revivalism in Greek Literature, 1760–1840,” Κάμπoς: Cambridge Studies in Modern Greek 2 (1994): 47–71. 93. Konstantinos Th. Dimaras, Νεοελληνικὸς Διαφωτισμός, 4th ed. (Athens: Ermis, 1985), 156, 159, 164 – 65, 235 – 36, 256 – 57. 94. Athanasios Photopoulos, “« Ἔλεγχος τοῦ ψευδοταλανισμοῦ τῆς Ἑλλάδος.» Ὀρθόδοξη ἀπάντηση στὴ Δυτικὴ πρόκληση περὶ τὰ τέλη τοῦ ΙΗ´ αἰώνα”, Μνημοσύνη 11 (1988 – 90): 329. 95. [Athanasios Parios], Ἀντιφώvησις πρὸς τὸv παράλoγov ζῆλov, τῶv ἀπὸ τῆς Εὐρώπης ἐρχoμέvωv φιλoσόφωv [. . .] (Trieste, 1802), 9–17, 26–27.

298 Notes to Chapter 4

96. [Athanasios Parios], Ἀπoλoγία Χριστιαvική [. . .], 3d ed. (Leipzig, 1805), 68–71. 97. Loukia Droulia, “ Ἡ ἐθιμικὴ παράδoση στὴv ὀvoματoθεσία καὶ ὁ Διαφωτισμός. Ἕvα παράδειγμα ἀπὸ τὴv Ἀχαΐα,” Μvήμωv 10 (1985): 187–201; and Clogg, “Sense of the Past,” 17–18. 98. Ambroise Firmin Didot, Notes d’un voyage fait dans le Levant en 1816 et 1817 (Paris, 1826), 385–87. 99. See the review Μέλισσα, ἢ Ἐφημερὶς Ἑλληvική 1/2 (1820): 228. 100. Clogg, “Sense of the Past,” 21. 101. John Th. Kakridis, “The Ancient Greeks and the Greeks of the War of Independence,” Balkan Studies 4 (1963): 251 – 64. 102. Cited in Konstantinos Dimaras, “ Ἡ ἰδεoλoγικὴ ὑπoδoμὴ τoῦ vέoυ ἑλληvικoῦ κράτoυς,” in Ἱστoρία τoῦ Ἑλληvικoῦ Ἔθvoυς (Athens: Ekdotiki Athinon, 1977), 13:457. 103. Alexis Politis, Ρομαντικά χρόνια: Ιδεολογίες και Νοοτροπίες στην Ελλάδα του 1830 – 1880 (Athens: Mnimon, 1993), 107 – 11. 104. Ioulia Pentazou, “Ο Θεόδωρος Μανούσης, καθηγητής ιστορίας στο Πανεπιστήμιο Αθηνών (1837 – 1858),” Μνήμων 17 (1995): 69 – 106. 105. Dimaras, “ Ἡ ἰδεoλoγικὴ ὑπoδoμή,” 13:457 106. David Ricks/Paul Magdalino (eds.), Byzantium and the Modern Greek Identity (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 1998); and Roxane D. Argyropoulos, Les intellectuels grecs à la recherche de Byzance (1860 – 1912) (Athens: Institut de Recherches Néohelléniques, 2001). 107. Dimaras, “ Ἡ ἰδεoλoγικὴ ὑπoδoμή,” 13:476. 108. Philippos Iliou, Ἰδεολογικὲς χρήσεις τοῦ Κοραϊσμοῦ στὸν 20ὸ αἰώνα (Athens: O Politis, 1989), 84 – 90. 109. Ifigeneia Mpotouropoulou, Ο Ernest Renan και η Σύγχρονη Ελλάδα (Athens: Chatzinikolis, 1993), 124 – 81, 249 – 60. 110. Dimaras, “ Ἡ ἰδεoλoγικὴ ὑπoδoμή,” 13:459, 466 – 68, 470, 472 – 80; and idem, “ Ἡ διακόσμηση τῆς ἑλληvικῆς ἰδεoλoγίας,” in Ἱστoρία τoῦ Ἑλληvικoῦ Ἔθvoυς, 14:401 – 4, 408 – 9. 111. Christina Koulouri, Sport et société bourgeoise: Les associations sportives en Grèce, 1870 – 1922 (Paris: L’Harmattan, 2000). 112. Alexis Dimaras (ed.), Ἡ ἐπαvάσταση ποὺ δὲv ἔγιvε (Τεκμήρια ἱστoρίας), vol. 1, 1821 – 1894 (Athens: Ermis, 1983), 249 – 50. 113. Dionysis G. Chionis, Ἡ ἀπoκάθαρση τoῦ Χριστιαvισμοῦ ἀπὸ τὰ ἑβραϊκὰ στoιχεῖα (Αthens: Amilla, 1985). 114. Vlasis G. Rassias, Υπέρ Της Των Ελλήνων Νόσου, 3 vols. (Athens: Panderkis Ilios, 1992 – 94); Tryphon Kostopoulos, Ἑλλάδα: Ἡ ἄθλια μοίρα ἑνός ἱεροῦ τόπου (Athens: Logothetis, 1993); Panayiotis Marinis, Ἡ ἑλληvική θρησκεία (Τό Δωδεκάθεov): Κoσμoγovία — Ψυχoγovία (Athens: Eleftheri Skepsis, 1996); and idem, Ἡ ἑλληvική θρησκεία (Τό Δωδεκάθεov): Θεoγovία (Athens: Eleftheri Skepsis, 1996).

Notes to Chapter 4 299

115. Report by Yiorgos Kiousis in Ελευθεροτυπία, 23 January 2007. 116. Reprinted in Ἐκκλησιαστικὸς Ἀγώv 328 (July 1996): 6. 117. Cf. also the booklet Νεοπαγανισμός: Η απειλή από το παρελθόν, 2d ed. (Athens: Apostoliki Diakonia, 2003). 118. Archbishop Christodoulos Paraskevaidis, Ἑλληνισμὸς προσήλυτος: Ἡ μετάβαση τοῦ Ἑλληνισμοῦ ἀπὸ τὴν ἀρχαιότητα στὸ Χριστιανισμό (Athens: Media Ecclesiastica, 2004). 119. See also Georgios D. Metallinos, Παγανιστικὸς Ἑλληνισμὸς ἢ Ἑλληνορθοδοξία; (Athens: Armos, 2003). 120. Nikolaos Bratsiotis, “ Ἡ Παλαιὰ Διαθήκη ὡς Ἁγία Γραφή. Ὀλίγα περὶ τῆς σχέσεώς της πρὸς τὸv Ἑλληvισμὸv καὶ τὴv Ὀρθoδoξίαv,” in Ὀρθoδoξία — Ἑλληvισμός: Πορεία στὴν τρίτη χιλιετία (Holy Mount Athos: Iera Moni Koutloumousiou, 1995), 1:113 – 22. 121. Metropolitan Augustinos Kantiotis, Ἐπιστροφὴ εἰς ἀρχαίαν εἰδωλολατρίαν; (Athens: Stavros, 1992). 122. See Ὀρθόδoξoς Τύπoς, 12 April 1996, 6; Ἃγιoς Ἀγαθάγγελoς Ἐσφιγμεvίτης 155 (May – June 1996): 34 – 39; and Ἐκκλησιαστικὸς Ἀγώv 328 (July 1996): 6. 123. Vasilis Kardasis, The Olympic Games in Athens, 1896 – 1906 (Athens: ISP, 2004), 134 – 35. 124. Ibid., 152 – 53. 125. Anastassios Anastassiadis, “L’anathéme sur la flame olympique? L’Église orthodoxe grecque et l’Olympiade de 1936,” Archives de Sciences Sociales des Religions 131/2 (2005): 51. 126. Angela Couloumbis, “Greek Church Warily Awaits Olympic Opening,” Philadelphia Inquirer, 13 August 2004; and J. S. Parker, “Ongoing Persecution of Pagans in Modern Greece,” Widdershins 10 (2006), http://www.widdershins.org/ vol10iss4/09.htm. 127. See Ὀρθόδοξος Τύπος, 9 July 2004, 3 – 4; and Ἃγιoς Ἀγαθάγγελoς Ἐσφιγμεvίτης 202 (March – April 2004): 39. 128. Patrick Leigh Fermor, Roumeli: Travels in Northern Greece (London: Penguin, [1966] 1983), 107 – 13. 129. Michael Herzfeld, Anthropology Through the Looking-Glass: Critical Ethnography in the Margins of Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989), 101 – 3, 120 – 22, 199 – 200. 130. For the positive, see Eleni Ahrweiler, Μovτερvισμὸς καὶ Βυζάvτιo (Athens: Idryma Goulandri-Horn, 1992). For the negative, see Vlasis G. Rassias, Μία . . . ιστορία αγάπης (Η ιστορία της χριστιανικής επικρατήσεως) (Athens: Anoikti Poli, 1999). 131. Vassilis Alexakis, Ap. J.-C. (Paris: Stock, 2007; Greek transl., Athens: Exantas, 2007).

300 Notes to Chapter 5

Notes to Chapter 5 1. Basil of Caesarea, To Young Men, on How They Might Derive Profit from Pagan Literature, 4 (transl. by R. J. Deferrari/M. R. P. McGuire, The Loeb Classical Library). 2. Herbert Hunger, “Der Mythos der Hellenen in byzantinischem Ambiente,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 88 (1995): 26 – 27. 3. Edward Watts, “Where to Live the Philosophical Life in the Sixth Century? Damascius, Simplicius, and the Return from Persia,” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 45 (2005): 285 – 315. 4. Polymnia Athanassiadi, “Dreams, Theurgy, and Freelance Divination: The Testimony of Iamblichus,” JRS 83 (1993): 115 – 30. 5. Gerhard Podskalsky, “Nikolaos von Methone und die Proklosrenaissance in Byzanz,” Orientalia Christiana Periodica 42 (1976): 509 – 23. 6. Linos G. Benakis, Βυζαντινὴ φιλοσοφία (Athens: Parousia, 2002), 577 – 84. 7. Polymnia Athanassiadi, “Philosophy and Power: The Creation of Orthodoxy in Neoplatonism,” in G. Clark/T. Rajak (eds.), Philosophy and Power in the Graeco-Roman World (Oxford: Oxford UP, 2002), 271 – 91. 8. See the lexicon Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament 4 (1942; reprinted 1990): 76 – 140, s.v. “λόγος.” 9. Troels Engberg-Pedersen, Paul and the Stoics (Edinburgh: T and T Clark, 2000). 10. Grant, Greek Apologists, 24 – 26. 11. Justin, Apologia II, 13, PG, 6, 465. 12. Justin, Apologia I, 46; II, 10, PG, 6, 397, 460 – 61. 13. Grant, Greek Apologists, 50 – 73; and Paul Foster/Sara Parvis (eds.), Justin Martyr and his World (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007). 14. H. B. Timothy, The Early Christian Apologists and Greek Philosophy (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1973), 59 – 80; and Salvatore Romano Clemente Lilla, Clement of Alexandria: A Study in Christian Platonism and Gnosticism (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 2005). 15. Sonja Ackermann, Christliche Apologetik und heidnische Philosophie im Streit um das Alte Testament (Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1997). 16. Walter Puchner, Akkommodationsfragen: Einzelbeispiele zum paganen Hintergrund von Elementen der frühkirchlichen und mittelalterlichen Sakraltradition und Volksfrömmigkeit (Munich: tuduv, 1997). 17. Graydon F. Snyder, Ante Pacem: Archaeological Evidence of Church Life Before Constantine (Macon: Mercer UP, 1985), 13 – 30. 18. Richard Seaford, Dionysos (London: Routledge, 2006), 120, 126. 19. Averil Cameron, Christianity and the Rhetoric of the Empire (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1991), 47 – 188.

Notes to Chapter 5 301

20. Christian Gnilka, Χρῆσις: Die Methode der Kirchenväter im Umgang mit der antiken Kultur: I: Der Begriff des “rechten Gebrauchs” (Basle: Schwabe, 1984). 21. Antonio Garzya, “Byzantium,” in K. J. Dover (ed.), Perceptions of the Ancient Greeks (Oxford: Blackwell, 1992), 44 – 45. 22. Fowden, The Egyptian Hermes, 196 – 212. 23. Pelikan, Christianity and Classical Culture, passim. 24. Eginhard P. Meijering, Die Hellenisierung des Christentums im Urteil Adolf von Harnacks (Amsterdam: North-Holland Publishing, 1985). 25. Gerhard Podskalsky, Von Photios zu Bessarion (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2003), 44 – 54. 26. Gregory of Nazianzus, Funebris oratio XLIII in laudem Basilii Magni, 11, PG, 36, 508 – 9. 27. A good summary can be found in Paul Hacker, “The Religions of the Gentiles as Viewed by Fathers of the Church,” Zeitschrift für Missions- und Religionswissenschaft 54 (1970): 266 – 68. 28. Basil of Caesarea, Epistola 223, PG, 32, 824. 29. Vasiliki Limberis, “ ‘Religion’ as the Cipher of Identity: The Cases of Emperor Julian, Libanius, and Gregory Nazianzus,” Harvard Theological Review 93 (2000): 373 – 400. 30. Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 38, 6, PG, 36, 316 – 17. 31. Andrew Louth, The Origins of the Christian Mystical Tradition: From Plato to Denys, 2d ed. (Oxford: Oxford UP, 2007), 154 – 73. 32. Andrew Louth, Maximus the Confessor (London: Routledge, 1996), 3 – 77. 33. Andrew Louth, St. John Damascene: Tradition and Originality in Byzantine Theology (Oxford: Oxford UP, 2002), 29 – 189. 34. John of Damascus, In transfigurationem Domini, 5, PG, 96, 553. 35. John of Damascus, Contra Jacobitas, 10, PG, 94, 1440 – 41. 36. Photius, The Bibliotheca: A Selection, transl. with notes by N. G. Wilson (London: Duckworth, 2002). 37. Pseudo-Symeon Magistros cited in Hans-Georg Beck (ed.), Byzantinisches Lesebuch (Munich: Beck, 1982), 40 – 42. 38. Photios, De Spiritus Sancti Mystagogia, 11 and 73 – 74, PG, 102, 292, 353. 39. Karin Metzler, Eustathios von Thessalonike und das Mönchtum (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2006), 489 – 94, passim. 40. Podskalsky, Von Photios, 13 – 14, 74 – 75, 84. 41. Georgi Kapriev, Philosophie in Byzanz (Würzburg: Königshausen und Neumann, 2005), 271 – 82. 42. Gregory Palamas, First Epistle to Akindynos, 10 – 11; and idem, Second Epistle to Barlaam, 38 (J. Meyendorff, ed., Γρηγορίου τοῦ Παλαμᾶ Συγγράμματα, Thessalonica, 1962, 1:214 – 16, 282). 43. Gregory Palamas, First Epistle to Akindynos, 9 (Meyendorff, 212 – 14).

302 Notes to Chapter 5

44. Ibid., 8 (Meyendorff, 211 – 12). 45. Katerina Ierodiakonou, “The Anti-logical Movement in the Fourteenth Century,” in Ierodiakonou (ed.), Byzantine Philosophy, 219 – 36. 46. L. Michael White, The Social Origins of Christian Architecture (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International, 1990), 1:11 – 25. 47. Demetrios I. Pallas, Αποφόρητα: Πρώιμος χριστιανικός και μεσαιωνικός ελληνικός κόσμος (Athens: Potamos, 2007), 131 – 48. 48. Cited in Spyridon P. Lambros, Αἱ Ἀθῆναι περὶ τὰ τέλη τοῦ δωδεκάτου αἰῶνος κατὰ πηγὰς ἀνεκδότους (Athens, 1878), 35n. 49. Cyril Mango, The Art of the Byzantine Empire, 312 – 1453: Sources and Documents (Toronto: Toronto UP, 1993), 16 – 18, 41 – 43. 50. Pallas, Αποφόρητα, 175 – 202. 51. E. Möde, “Isis,” Marienlexikon 3 (1991): 324 – 25. 52. Bowersock, Hellenism, 26. 53. Theodora Hadzisteliou Price, Kourotrophos: Cults and Representations of the Greek Nursing Deities (Leiden: Brill, 1978). 54. Vasiliki Limberis, Divine Heiress: The Virgin Mary and the Creation of Christian Constantinople (London: Routledge, 1994), 121 – 42. 55. Jutta Stroszeck, “Divine Protection for Shepherd and Sheep: Apollon, Hermes, Pan, and Their Christian Counterparts St. Mamas, St. Themistocles and St. Modestos,” in B. Santillo Frizell (ed.), Pecus: Man and Animal in Antiquity (Rome: Swedish Institute, 2004), 231 – 40. 56. George T. Dennis, SJ, “Popular Religious Attitudes and Practices in Byzantium,” in R. F. Taft, SJ (ed.), The Christian East: Its Institutions and Its Thought: A Critical Reflection (Rome: Istituto Pontificio Orientale, 1996), 250. 57. Charles Stewart, “Ritual Dreams and Historical Orders: Incubation Between Paganism and Christianity,” in D. Yatromanolakis/P. Roilos (eds.), Greek Ritual Poetics (Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 2004), 338 – 55. 58. Timothy E. Gregory, “The Survival of Paganism in Christian Greece: A Critical Essay,” American Journal of Philology 107 (1986): 237 – 39. 59. Otto F. A. Meinardus, “Fertility and Healing Cult Survivals in Athen: Haghia Marina,” Zeitschrift für Ethnologie 99 (1974): 270 – 76; and Gerald V. Lalonde, “Pagan Cult to Christian Ritual: The Case of Agia Marina Theseiou,” Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 45 (2005): 91 – 125. 60. Elizabeth M. Jeffreys, “The Attitudes of Byzantine Chroniclers Towards Ancient History,” Byzantion 49 (1979): 199 – 238. 61. Cited in Donald M. Nicol, “The Byzantine Church and Hellenic Learning in the Fourteenth Century,” in G. J. Cuming (ed.), The Church and Academic Learning (Leiden: Brill, 1969), 40 – 41. 62. Christos G. Patrinelis, “An Unknown Discourse of Chrysoloras Addressed to Manuel II Palaeologus,” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 13 (1972): 497 – 502.

Notes to Chapter 5 303

63. Dimaras, Νεοελληνικὸς Διαφωτισμός, 4, 31. 64. Konstantinos Chatzopoulos, Ελληνικά σχολεία στην περίοδο της Οθωμανικής κυριαρχίας (1453 – 1821) (Thessalonica: Vanias, 1991). 65. Angeliki G. Skarveli-Nikolopoulou, Τά μαθηματάρια τῶν ἑλληνικῶν σχολείων τῆς Τουρκοκρατίας (Athens: Syllogos pros Diadosin Ofelimon Vivlion, 1993). 66. Deno J. Geanakoplos, “A Byzantine Looks at the Renaissance: The Attitude of Michael Apostolis Toward the Rise of Italy to Cultural Eminence,” Greek and Byzantine Studies 1 (1958): 157 – 62. 67. Klaus-Henning Suchland, Das Byzanzbild des Tübinger Philhellenen Martin Crusius (1526 – 1607) (Dissertation, University of Würzburg, 2001). 68. Colin Davey, Pioneer for Unity: Metrophanes Kritopoulos (1589 – 1639) and Relations Between the Orthodox, Roman Catholic, and Reformed Churches (London: British Council of Churches, 1987). 69. Olivier Reverdin/Nikos Panayiotakis, Οἱ ἑλληνικὲς σπουδὲς στὴν Ἑλβετία τοῦ Καλβίνου (Athens: Morfotiko Idryma Ethnikis Trapezis, 1995), 26 – 27. 70. Anastasios Michael, “Epistola Anastasii Graeci,” in M. Io. Tribbechovius, Brevia Linguae Ρωμαϊκῆς sive Graecae vulgaris Elementa (Iena, 1705), n.p. 71. George E. Karamanolis, “Οἱ ἀπόψεις τοῦ Ἀλεξάνδρου Ἑλλαδίου γιά τήν προφορά τῆς ἀρχαίας Ἑλληνικῆς καί οἱ θεωρίες τῶν συγχρόνων του γιά τήν ἑλληνική γλῶσσα,” in Makrides (ed.), Alexander Helladius, 333 – 413. 72. Konstantinos Oikonomos, Περὶ τῆς γνησίας προφορᾶς τῆς ἑλληνικῆς γλώσσης (St. Petersburg, 1830). 73. Nikos K. Psimmenos (ed.), Ἡ ἑλληνικὴ φιλοσοφία ἀπὸ τὸ 1453 ὣς τὸ 1821 (Athens: Gnosi, 1989), 2:441n. 74. Benakis, Μεταβυζαντινὴ φιλοσοφία, 34 – 99. 75. Stephen K. Batalden, Catherine II’s Greek Prelate: Eugenios Voulgaris in Russia, 1771 – 1806 (New York: Columbia UP, 1982), 158 – 59, 166, 168 – 69. 76. Konstantinos M. Koumas, Ἱστορίαι τῶν Ἀνθρωπίνων Πράξεων (Vienna, 1832), 12:565. 77. Psimmenos, Ἡ ἑλληνικὴ φιλοσοφία, 2:126 – 38. 78. Paschalis M. Kitromilides, Νεοελληνικὸς Διαφωτισμός: Οἱ πολιτικὲς καὶ κοινωνικὲς ἰδέες (Athens: Morfotiko Idryma Ethnikis Trapezis, 1996), 83 – 124. 79. Menounos, Κοσμᾶ τοῦ Αἰτωλοῦ Διδαχές, 115 – 16. 80. Ibid., 142 – 43. 81. Ibid., 209 – 10. 82. Ibid., 275 – 76. 83. Konstantinos Spetsieris, “Εἰκόνες Ἑλλήνων φιλοσόφων εἰς ἐκκλησίας,” Ἐπιστημονικὴ Ἐπετηρὶς Φιλοσοφικῆς Σχολῆς Πανεπιστημίου Ἀθηνῶν, 2d ser., 14 (1963 – 64): 386 – 458; 24 (1973 – 74): 397 – 436. 84. The “Painter’s Manual” of Dionysius of Fourna, transl. by Paul Hetherington (London: Sagittarius, 1974), 31.

304 Notes to Chapter 5

85. Published in the newspaper Αἰών, 13 November 1838. 86. Makrides, Die religiöse Kritik, 81 – 146. 87. Clogg, “Sense of the Past,” 22. 88. See Μέλισσα 2 (1820): 227. 89. See the exhibition catalog Das neue Hellas: Griechen und Bayern zur Zeit Ludwigs I: Katalog der Ausstellung des Bayerischen Nationalmuseums (München, 9. November 1999 bis 13. Februar 2000) (Munich: Hirmer, 1999), 362 – 63. 90. Yannis Hamilakis, The Nation and Its Ruins: Antiquity, Archaeology, and National Imagination in Greece (Oxford: Oxford UP, 2007). 91. Dimaras, Νεοελληνικὸς Διαφωτισμός, 399, 400, 404, 500; and Politis, Ρομαντικά χρόνια, 109. 92. Michael Herzfeld, Ours Once More: Folklore, Ideology, and the Making of Modern Greece (New York: Pella, 1986), 39 – 49. 93. Roxani D. Argyropoulou (ed.), Ἡ φιλοσοφικὴ σκέψη στὴν Ἑλλάδα ἀπὸ τὸ 1828 ὣς τὸ 1922 (Athens: Gnosi, 1995), 1:46 – 51. 94. Effi Gazi, “National Ideology, Scientific Disciplines and Intellectual Fields in Greece (1880 – 1922),” Südost-Forschungen 58 (1999): 247 – 65. 95. Paschalis M. Kitromilides, “ ‘Imagined Communities’ and the Origins of the National Question in the Balkans,” in M. Blinkhorn/Th. Veremis (eds.), Modern Greece: Nationalism and Nationality (Athens: Eliamep, 1990), 23–66. 96. Charles Stewart, “Syncretism as a Dimension of Nationalist Discourse in Modern Greece,” in C. Stewart/R. Shaw (eds.), Syncretism/Anti-syncretism: The Politics of Religious Synthesis (London: Routledge, 1994), 127 – 44. 97. Tonia Kiousopoulou, “ Ἡ πρώτη ἕδρα Βυζαντινῆς Ἱστορίας στὸ Πανεπιστήμιο Ἀθηνῶν,” Μνήμων 15 (1993): 257 – 76. 98. Andreas Lapourtas (ed.), 1884 – 1930: From the Christian Collection to the Byzantine Museum (Athens: Byzantine and Christian Museum, 2002). 99. See Από τα Ηλύσια Πεδία στο Χριστιανικό Παράδεισο (Thessalonica: Museum of Byzantine Culture, 1997). 100. Elli Skopetea, Φαλλμεράϋερ: Τεχνάσματα τοῦ ἀντιπάλου δέους (Athens: Themelio, 1997). 101. Georg Veloudis, Ὁ Jakob Philipp Fallmerayer καὶ ἡ γένεση τοῦ ἑλληνικοῦ ἱστορισμοῦ (Athens: EMNE-Mnimon, 1982). 102. Georgios D. Metallinos, “ Ὁ Χριστιανισμὸς στὸ ἔργο τοῦ Κωνστ. Παπαρρηγόπουλου,” Ἐπιστημονικὴ Ἐπετηρὶς Θεολογικῆς Σχολῆς Πανεπιστημίου Ἀθηνῶν 33 (1998): 227 – 44. 103. Thomas W. Gallant, Modern Greece (London: Arnold, 2001), 70 – 73. 104. Ioanna Petropoulou, “Μετονομασίες, ἐξαρχαϊσμός, ἐθνικὴ ἔνταξη. Μικρὰ Ἀσία (19ος αἰώνας),” Δελτίο Κέντρου Μικρασιατικῶν Σπουδῶν 12 (1997 – 98): 169 – 88. 105. Cited in Nikos Kokosalakis, “The Political Significance of Popular Religion in Greece,” Archives de Sciences Sociales des Religions 64 (1987): 45.

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106. Effi Gazi, Ο Δεύτερος Βίος των Τριών Ιεραρχών: Μια γενεαλογία του «Ελληνοχριστιανικού Πολιτισμού», 2d ed. (Athens: Nefeli, 2004), 31 – 134. 107. Constantine Sarandis, “The Ideology and Character of the Metaxas Regime,” in R. Higham/Th. Veremis (eds.), Aspects of Greece, 1936 – 40: The Metaxas Dictatorship (Athens: Eliamep-Vryonis Center, 1993), 147 – 77. 108. Demetrios I. Pallas, Ὀρθοδοξία καὶ παράδοση (Irakleio: Panepistimiakes Ekdoseis Kritis, 2005), 179 – 235. 109. Damaskinos, Archbishop of Athens and of Greece, “Greece and Religion,” in Greece Calling (Athens, 1948), 38. 110. Christodoulos, Metropolitan of Dimitrias, “Τα oυσιώδη τoυ βίoυ μας εvώπιov τωv κιvδύvωv τoυ Γέvoυς. Από τό πικρό γλυκύ,” Το Βήμα της Κυριακής, 25 February 1996. 111. Prokopios, Metropolitan of Philippi, Neapolis, and Thasos, “ Ὁ ἑoρτασμός τῆς Ὀρθoδoξίας καί ἡ σχέση της πρός τόv Ἑλληvισμό,” Ἐκκλησιαστική Ἀλήθεια, 1– 16 April 1996. 112. Abbot Grigorios, Νεο-εἰδωλολατρικές περιπλανήσεις καί ἡ ἀληθής ἐμπειρία τῆς Ἐκκλησίας μας (Holy Mount Athos: Iera Moni Osiou Grigoriou, 2002). 113. Georgios D. Metallinos, Τὸ ζήτημα τῆς μεταφράσεως τῆς Ἁγίας Γραφῆς εἰς τὴν Νεοελληνικὴν κατὰ τὸν ΙΘ´ αἰ, 2d ed. (Athens: Armos, 2004). 114. See Μονοτονικό: Ἐμπειρία 24 ἐτῶν: Εἰσηγήσεις ἡμερίδος ἀφιερωμένης στό θέμα τῆς Νεοελληνικῆς Γλώσσας καί εἰδικώτερα στόν τονισμό αὐτῆς (Athens: Apostoliki Diakonia, 2007). 115. Georges Florovsky, Aspects of Church History (Vaduz: Büchervertriebsanstalt, 1987), 194 – 95 (emphasis in original). 116. Cited in Ὀρθoδoξία—Ἑλληvισμός: Πoρεία στὴv τρίτη χιλιετία (Holy Mount Athos: Iera Moni Koutloumousiou, 1995), 1:15. 117. Robin Minney, “Attitude of the Russian Orthodox Church to the Study of Ancient Classical Languages and Culture,” in J. Sutton/W. van den Bercken (eds.), Orthodox Christianity and Contemporary Europe (Leuven: Peeters, 2003), 287 – 97. 118. Walter Puchner, Griechisches Schuldrama und religiöses Barocktheater im agäischen Raum zur Zeit der Türkenherrschaft (1580 – 1750) (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1999). 119. Takis Mouzenidis, “The Revival of Ancient Drama,” Thespis 6 (1972): 24 – 28. 120. Dimitrios S. Balanos, Ἐκκλησία καὶ θέατρον (Athens: Typografeio tis Efimeridos Athinai, 1909); idem, Χριστιανισμὸς καὶ Σκηνή (Athens, 1924), 20; and Grigorios H. Papamichail, Ἐκκλησία καὶ θέατρον (Alexandria: Ekklisiastikos Faros, [1916]). 121. Marios Ploritis, Τό θέατρο στό Βυζάντιο (Athens: Kastaniotis, 1999). 122. Blake Leyerle, Theatrical Shows and Ascetic Lives: John Chrysostom’s Attack on Spiritual Marriage (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2001), 42 – 74.

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123. Georgios D. Metallinos (ed.), Ἀκολουθία τοῦ ἁγίου ἐνδόξου μάρτυρος Πορφυρίου τοῦ ἀπὸ μίμων, προστάτου τῶν Ἑλλήνων ἠθοποιῶν (Athens, 1995). 124. See the reports “Μητροπολίτης εναντίον θεάτρου” and “Χωρίς Πλούτο στις Σέρρες” in the newspaper Ελευθεροτυπία, 29 and 30 July 2004. 125. Nikos A. Nissiotis, “L’actualité de Pierre de Coubertin du point de vue de la philosophie et le problème de la ‘religio athletae,’ ” in N. Müller (ed.), L’actualité de Pierre de Coubertin (Niedernhausen: Schors, 1987), 125 – 70. 126. Cited in Michael Llewellyn Smith, Olympics in Athens, 1896 (London: Profile, 2004), 244. 127. Vasilios Ν. Τatakis, Θέματα χριστιαvικῆς καὶ βυζαvτιvῆς φιλoσoφίας (Athens: Apostoliki Diakonia, 1952); idem, Ἡ συμβολὴ τῆς Καππαδοκίας στὴ χριστιανικὴ σκέψη (Athens: Institut Français d’Athènes, 1960); and Benakis, Βυζαντινὴ φιλοσοφία, passim. 128. Panayiotis I. Bratsiotis, Χριστιανισμὸς καὶ Ἑλληνισμὸς ἐν ἀντιθέσει καὶ συνθέσει, 2d ed. (Athens, 1967); Stylianos G. Papadopoulos, Ὀρθοδοξία καί Ἑλληνισμός: Πορεία στήν τρίτη χιλιετία (Athens: Parousia, 1996); Ioannis M. Chatziphotis, Ὀρθοδοξία καί ἀρχαῖος Ἑλληνισμός (Athens: Ellinika Grammata, 1998); Georgios Patronos, Ἑλληνισμός καί Χριστιανισμός (Athens: Apostoliki Diakonia, 2003); and Georgios D. Babiniotis, Χριστιανική και Ελληνική πνευματικότητα (Athens: Akritas, 2007). 129. Ioannis Zizioulas, “ Ἑλληvισμὸς καὶ Χριστιαvισμός. Ἡ συvάvτηση τῶv δύo κόσμωv,” in Ἱστoρία τoῦ Ἑλληvικoῦ Ἔθvoυς (Athens: Ekdotiki Athinon, 1976) 6: 519–59. 130. Vlasios I. Pheidas, “Δoμές τῆς Ἑλληvoχριστιαvικῆς Παραδόσεως,” in D. Papandreou/W. A. Bienert/K. Schäferdiek (eds.), Oecumenica et patristica (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1989), 351–66. 131. Ierotheos, Metropolitan of Nafpaktos and Agios Vlasios, “H ἀvυπoψίαστη πραγματικότητα,” Το Βήμα της Κυριακής, 10 March 1996. 132. Georgios D. Metallinos, “Η συvάvτηση Ελληvισμoύ και Χριστιαvισμoύ,” Η Καθημεριvή, 17 December 1995. 133. Εvangelos Theodorou, “« Ἄτoμov» καὶ «πρόσωπov», «ἀτoμισμὸς» καὶ «κoινωνισμός»,” Ἐκκλησία 69 (1992): 49–52. 134. Constantine Cavarnos, Συναντήσεις μὲ τὸν Κόντογλου (Athens: Astir, 1985), 54 – 57, 117 – 18. 135. Savas Agourides, “Orthodoxie—Griechentum: Eine notwendige Eintracht,” Kassandra 15 (1998): 21–28. 136. Epiphanios Theodoropoulos, Ἄρθρα, μελέται, ἐπιστολαί, 2d ed. (Athens, 1986), 1:13 – 78. 137. Konstantinos Tsoukalas, “Οι αντιφάσεις της εθvικής μας αφήγησης. ΄Ελληv ή Ρωμιός;” Το Βήμα της Κυριακής, 30 January 1994. 138. Ioannis K. Chassiotis/Olga Katsiardi-Hering/Evridiki A. Ambatzi (eds.), Οι Έλληνες στη Διασπορά, 15oς – 21oς αι. (Athens: Vouli ton Ellinon, 2006).

Notes to Chapter 6 307

139. Cf. the works of the Greek-American Constantine Cavarnos, such as The Hellenic Heritage: Ancient, Byzantine, and Modern (Belmont, MA: Institute for Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies, 1999). Notes to Chapter 6 1. Cited in Loring M. Danforth, Firewalking and Religious Healing: The Anastenaria of Greece and the American Firewalking Movement (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1989), 205. 2. Margaret Kenna, “Orthodox Theology and Local Practice in Contemporary Greece: Whose Tradition?” Dialogos: Hellenic Studies Review 2 (1995): 42 – 53. 3. James J. O’Donnell, “The Demise of Paganism,” Traditio 35 (1979): 83. 4. Bowersock, Hellenism, 6. 5. George Seferis, Δοκιμές, 5th ed. (Athens: Ikaros, 1984), 2:14. 6. Brakke/Jacobsen/Ulrich (eds.), Beyond Reception, passim. 7. Winfried Daut, “Die ‘halben Christen’ unter den Konvertiten und Gebildeten des 4. und 5. Jahrhunderts,” Zeitschrift für Missions- und Religionswissenschaft 55 (1971): 171 – 88. 8. Wayne A. Meeks, The First Urban Christians (New Haven: Yale UP, 1983), 114 – 15. 9. Dimitris J. Kyrtatas, The Social Structure of the Early Christian Communities (London: Verso, 1987), 97 – 145. 10. Meeks, The First Urban Christians, 140 – 63. 11. Guy G. Stroumsa, La fin du sacrifice: Les mutations religieuses de l’antiquité tardive (Paris: Odile Jacob, 2005), 108 – 13. 12. Ibid., 21 – 60. See also Maria-Zoe Petropoulou, Animal Sacrifice in Ancient Greek Religion, Judaism, and Christianity, 100 BC to AD 200 (Oxford: Oxford UP, 2008), 211 – 84. 13. John Fotopoulos, Food Offered to Idols in Roman Corinth (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 1 – 48. 14. Ibid., 49 – 157. 15. Gerd Theissen, The Social Setting of Pauline Christianity (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1982), 121 – 43. 16. See the relevant articles by Helmut Koester and Allen Dwight Callahan in Charalambos Bakirtzis/Helmut Koester (eds.), Philippi at the Time of Paul and after His Death (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1998), 49 – 84. 17. Valerie Abrahamsen, “Bishop Porphyrios and the City of Philippi in the Early Fourth Century,” Vigiliae Christianae 43 (1989): 80 – 85. 18. Charalambos Bakirtzis, “Paul and Philippi: The Archaeological Evidence,” in Bakirtzis/Koester (eds.), Philippi, 38 – 45. 19. Valerie Abrahamsen, “Christianity and the Rock Reliefs at Philippi,” Biblical Archaeologist 51 (1988): 46 – 56.

308 Notes to Chapter 6

20. Arja Karivieri, “The House of Proclus on the Southern Slope of the Acropolis,” in P. Castrén (ed.), Post-Herulian Athens: Aspects of Life and Culture in Athens, A.D. 267 – 529 (Helsinki: Foundation of the Finnish Institute at Athens, 1994), 89 – 139. 21. Garth Fowden, “The Athenian Agora and the Progress of Christianity,” Journal of Roman Archaeology 3 (1990): 494 – 501. 22. Gregory, “The Survival of Paganism,” 236 – 37. 23. Peter Brown, The World of Late Antiquity (London: Thames and Hudson, 1971), 49 – 57. 24. Georg Ostrogorsky, Byzantinische Geschichte, 324 – 1453 (Munich: Beck, [1965] 1996), 6 – 7. 25. Herbert Hunger, “Athen in Byzanz: Traum und Realität,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 40 (1990): 43 – 61. 26. Julian, Letter 20 (to the high priest Theodorus), 453b. 27. Raban von Haehling, Die Religionszugehörigkeit der hohen Amtsträger des römischen Reiches seit Constantins I. Alleinherrschaft bis zum Ende der Theodosianischen Dynastie (324 – 450 bzw. 455 n. Chr.) (Bonn: Habelt, 1978). 28. Codex Iustinianus, I.4.15 (Krüger, 62). 29. Raban von Haehling, “Heiden im griechischen Osten des 5. Jahrhunderts nach Christus,” Römische Quartalschrift 77 (1982): 52 – 85. 30. Walter E. Kaegi, “The Fifth-Century Twilight of Byzantine Paganism,” Classica et Mediaevalia 27 (1966): 253 – 55. 31. Polymnia Athanassiadi, “Persecution and Response in Late Paganism: The Evidence of Damascius,” JHS 113 (1993): 1 – 29. 32. Codex Iustinianus, I.11.7 – 8 (Krüger, 95). 33. Ibid., I.11.9 (Krüger, 95 – 96). 34. Andreas Gutsfeld/Johannes Hahn/Stephan Lehmann, “Christlicher Staat und ‘panhellenische’ Heiligtümer: Zum Wandel überregionaler paganer Kultstätten im spätantiken Griechenland,” in Rüpke (ed.), Antike Religionsgeschichte, 228 – 37. 35. Susan E. Alcock, “Minding the Gap in Hellenistic and Roman Greece,” in S. E. Alcock/R. Osborne (eds.), Placing the Gods: Sanctuaries and Sacred Space in Ancient Greece (Oxford: Clarendon, 1996), 255. 36. Rothaus, Corinth, 126 – 34. 37. The Theodosian Code, XVI.10.22 (Pharr, 476) 38. Constantine Porphyrogenitus, De administrando imperio, 50 (rev. ed. by Gy. Moravcsik, trans. by R. J. H. Jenkins, Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, 1967, 236 – 37). 39. Ilias Anagnostakis, “Η θέση των ειδωλολατρών στο Βυζάντιο. Η περίπτωση των «Ελλήνων» του Πορφυρογέννητου,” in Chr. A. Maltezou (ed.), Οἱ περιθωριακοὶ στὸ Βυζάντιο (Athens: Idryma Goulandri-Horn, 1993), 25 – 47. 40. Trombley, “Paganism,” 347 – 49.

Notes to Chapter 6 309

41. Phaidon Koukoules, Βυζαντινῶν βίος καὶ πολιτισμός (Athens: Institut Français d’Athènes, 1949), 3:7 – 80. 42. Rothaus, Corinth, 1 – 7. 43. MacMullen, Christianity and Paganism, 103 – 49. 44. Koukoules, Βυζαντινῶν βίος καὶ πολιτισμός (Athens: Institut Français d’Athènes, 1948), 1:123 – 276. 45. Gregory, “The Survival of Paganism,” 239 – 40. 46. James C. Skedros, “Canons of the Council of Trullo (692 C.E.),” in R. Valantasis (ed.), Religions of Late Antiquity in Practice (Princeton: Princeton UP, 2000), 296 – 97. On all these and other festivals, see Koukoules, Βυζαντινῶν βίος καὶ πολιτισμός (Athens: Institut Français d’Athènes, 1948), 2/1:13 – 38. 47. John of Damascus, De haeresibus, 94, PG, 94, 757. 48. Niketas Choniates, Thesaurus orthodoxae fidei, IV, 42, PG, 139, 1343 – 55. 49. Dennis, “Popular Religious Attitudes,” 252. 50. Eugenios Voulgaris (ed.), Ἰωσὴφ μοναχοῦ τοῦ Βρυεννίου τὰ Παραλειπόμενα (Leipzig, 1784), 3:119 – 23. 51. Eugenia Bolognesi Recchi Franceschini, “Winter in the Great Palace: The Persistence of Pagan Festivals in Christian Byzantium,” in S. Efthymiadis/C. Rapp/D. Tsougarakis (eds.), Bosphorus: Essays in Honour of Cyril Mango (Amsterdam: Adolf M. Hakkert, 1995), 117 – 34. 52. Bernhard Schwenk, “Hellenistische Paideia und christliche Erziehung,” in C. Colpe et al. (eds.), Spätantike und Christentum (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1992), 153. 53. Robert Browning, “Homer in Byzantium,” Viator 6 (1975): 15 – 33. 54. Henri-Irénée Marrou, Geschichte der Erziehung im klassischen Altertum (Freiburg im Breisgau: Alber, 1957), 230 – 40; and Werner Jaeger, Early Christianity and Greek Paideia (Cambridge, MA: Belknap, 1962). 55. Constantelos, Christian Hellenism, 18 – 24. 56. Herbert Hunger, Die hochsprachliche profane Literatur der Byzantiner, 2 vols. (Munich: Beck, 1978). 57. Raban von Haehling (ed.), Griechische Mythologie und frühes Christentum (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2005). 58. Seaford, Dionysos, 127. 59. Hunger, “Der Mythos,” 23 – 37; and Podskalsky, Von Photios, 62 – 66. 60. Roderick Beaton, The Medieval Greek Romance, 2d ed. (London: Routledge, 1996); and Kaldellis, Hellenism in Byzantium, 256 – 70. 61. Kurt Weitzmann, Greek Mythology in Byzantine Art (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1984). 62. Seaford, Dionysos, 127. 63. Averil Cameron/Judith Herrin (eds.), Constantinople in the Early Eighth Century: The Parastaseis Syntomoi Chronikai (Leiden: Brill, 1984). 64. Limberis, Divine Heiress, 14 – 21.

310

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65. Werner Jobst/Behçet Erdal/Christian Gurtner, Istanbul — The Great Palace Mosaic (Istanbul: Arkeoloji ve sanat yayınları, 1997), 28 – 57. 66. Henry Maguire, Rhetoric, Nature and Magic in Byzantine Art (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 1998), studies nos. 6 and 8. 67. Frank Althaus/Mark Sutcliffe (eds.), The Road to Byzantium: Luxury Arts of Antiquity (London: Fontanka, 2006). 68. Cyril Mango, “Antique Statuary and the Byzantine Beholder,” DOP 17 (1963): 55 – 59; and Saradi-Mendelovici, “Christian Attitudes,” 58 – 60. 69. Cyril Mango, Byzantium and its Image (London: Variorum Reprints, 1984), study no. 3. 70. Constantelos, Christian Hellenism, 199 – 218. 71. ODB, s.v. “Antiquity.” 72. Brown, Authority and the Sacred, 26. 73. Vasilios N. Makrides, “ Ἕνα ποιητικό κείμενο του Αλεξάνδρου Ελλαδίου περί της ψυχής των ζώων,” Θεσσαλικό Ημερολόγιο 32 (1997): 257 – 78. 74. Damianus Sinopeus, Defensio philosophiae Wolffianae per conventientiam trium distinctarum demonstrationum de existentia Dei (Eisenach, 1729). 75. Nicandre de Corcyre, Voyages, ed. by. J.-A. de Foucault (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1962), 131. 76. Nestor Camariano, Athanasios Christopoulos (Thessalonica: Institute for Balkan Studies, 1981), 157 – 202. 77. Kakridis, “The Greeks,” 252 – 55. 78. Cited in William St. Clair, That Greece Might Still Be Free: The Philhellenes in the War of Independence (London: Oxford UP, 1972), 23. 79. Vasilios N. Makrides/George E. Karamanolis, “ Ἕνα δίγλωσσο καί ἀβιβλιογράφητο εὐχετήριο ποίημα τοῦ Ἀλεξάνδρου Ἑλλαδίου. Μέρος Α΄,” in Makrides (ed.), Alexander Helladius, 285 – 304. 80. Karen Hartnup, “On the Beliefs of the Greeks”: Leo Allatios and Popular Orthodoxy (Leiden: Brill, 2004). 81. Augustinos, French Odysseys, 154 – 55. 82. Ibid., 278. 83. Theophilos, Bishop of Kampania, Ταμεῖον Ὀρθοδοξίας (Tripolis, [Venice, 1780] 1860), 112 – 18. 84. Michail Photeinopoulos, Νομικὸν πρόχειρον (Bucharest, 1765; new ed. by P. I. Zepos, Athens, 1959), 43 – 44; Agapios Hieromonachos/Nikodimos Agioreitis, Πηδάλιον (Thessalonica: V. Rigopoulos, [Leipzig, 1800] 1998), 274 – 75, 309 – 10; and Nikodimos Agioreitis, Χριστοήθεια τῶν Χριστιανῶν (Thessalonica: V. Rigopoulos, [Venice, 1803] 1991), 223 – 24. 85. Vryonis, “Religious Changes,” 154 – 60. 86. Julian Raby, “Terra Lemnia and the Potteries of the Golden Horn: An Antique Revival Under Ottoman Auspices,” in Efthymiadis/Rapp/Tsougarakis (eds.), Bosphorus, 305 – 46.

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87. See the proceedings of the conference Οι Χρήσεις της Αρχαιότητας από το Νέο Ελληνισμό (14 και 15 Απριλίου 2000) (Athens: Etaireia Spoudon Neoellinikou Politismou kai Genikis Paideias, 2002). 88. Yannis Hamilakis/Eleana Yalouri, “Antiquities as Symbolic Capital in Modern Greek Society,” Antiquity 70 (1996): 117 – 29. 89. Eleana Yalouri, The Acropolis: Global Fame, Local Claim (Oxford: Berg, 2001). 90. Susan E. Alcock, Archaeologies of the Greek Past: Landscape, Monuments, and Memories (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2002), 5. 91. Dimitris Damaskos/Dimitris Plantzos (eds.), A Singular Antiquity: Archaeology and Hellenic Identity in Twentieth-Century Greece (Athens: Benaki Museum, 2008). 92. Politis, Ρομαντικά χρόνια, 74 – 89; and Michael Llewellyn Smith, Athens: A Cultural and Literary History (Oxford: Signal Books, 2004), 127 – 62. 93. Maro Kardamitsi-Adami, Έρνστ Τσίλερ, 1837 – 1923: Η τέχνη του κλασικού (Athens: Melissa, 2006). 94. Ioannis Th. Kakridis, Οἱ ἀρχαῖοι Ἕλληνες στὴ νεοελληνικὴ λαϊκὴ παράδοση, 3d ed. (Athens: Morfotiko Idryma Ethnikis Trapezis, 1989). 95. Charles Stewart, “Μαγεία και Ορθοδοξία,” Αρχαιολογία 72 (1999): 8–13. 96. Kokosalakis, “The Political Significance,” 43–44. 97. Charles Stewart, Demons and the Devil: Moral Imagination in Modern Greek Culture (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1991). 98. Herzfeld, Ours Once More, 97–122. 99. Cited in Politis, Ρομαντικά χρόνια, 110. 100. Curt Wachsmuth, Das alte Griechenland im neuen: mit einem Anhang über Sitten und Aberglauben der Neugriechen bei Geburt, Hochzeit und Tod (Bonn: Cohen, 1864); Bernhard Schmidt, Das Volksleben der Neugriechen und das hellenische Altertum (Leipzig: B. G. Teubner, 1871); and John Cuthbert Lawson, Modern Greek Folklore and Ancient Greek Religion: A Study in Survivals (New York: University Books, [Cambridge, 1910] 1964). 101. George A. Megas, Greek Calendar Customs, 2d ed. (Athens, 1963); and Peter Walcot, Greek Peasants, Ancient and Modern: A Comparison of Social and Moral Values (Manchester: Manchester UP, 1970). 102. Margaret Alexiou, “Folklore: An Obituary?” BMGS 9 (1984 – 85): 23. 103. Margaret Alexiou, The Ritual Lament in Greek Tradition, 2d ed. (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2002); and eadem, After Antiquity: Greek Language, Myth, and Metaphor (Ithaca: Cornell UP, 2002). 104. Georgios N. Aikaterinidis, Νεοελληνικὲς αἱματηρὲς θυσίες: Λειτουργία — μορφολογία — τυπολογία (Athens, 1979); and Christos D. Lazos, Παγανιστικά έθιμα στον Χριστιανισμό (Athens: Iamblichos, 2007), 137 – 65. 105. Ioannis M. Chatziphotis, Ὀρθοδοξία καί λαϊκές δοξασίες (Athens: Ellinika Grammata, 1996), 57.

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106. See Ἐκκλησία 71 (1994): 52. 107. See Ἐκκλησία 72 (1995): 438–39. See also Charalampos D. Vasilopoulos, Τὰ Ἀναστενάρια πῶς ἐξηγοῦνται, 2d ed. (Athens: Orthodoxos Typos, 1989). 108. Νikos Th. Bougatsos, “ Ἀvαστεvάρια,” Θρησκευτικὴ καὶ Ἠθικὴ Ἐγκυκλoπαιδεία 2 (1963): 634–37. 109. Loring M. Danforth, “The Rôle of Dance in the Ritual Therapy of the Anastenaria,” BMGS 5 (1979): 142. 110. Danforth, Firewalking, 206. 111. Loring M. Danforth, “The Ideological Context of the Search for Continuities in Greek Culture,” JMGS 2 (1984): 70–72. 112. See Ἐκκλησία 73 (1996): 673–74. 113. Danforth, “The Ideological Context,” 72–74. 114. Kanellos Kanellopoulos/Costas Vergas, Hellas: Festivals and Customs (Athens: Vergas Publications, 1997); John L. Tomkinson, Festive Greece: A Calendar of Tradition (Athens: Anagnosis, 2003); and Nikos Psilakis, Λαϊκές τελετουργίες στην Κρήτη (Irakleio: Karmanor, 2005). 115. A. J. B. Wace, “North Greek Festivals and the Worship of Dionysus,” The Annual of the British School at Athens 16 (1909 – 10): 232 – 53; and Walter Puchner, Ο Γεώργιος Βιζυηνός και το αρχαίο θέατρο (Athens: Patakis, 2002), 81 – 276. 116. See “Καθολική αντίθεση κατά της δίωξης,” Ελευθεροτυπία, 10 January 2005. 117. Yiorgos Papadakis, “Τα αποκριάτικα στο εδώλιο!” Ελευθεροτυπία, 8 January 2005. 118. John Mole, It’s All Greek to Me! A Tale of a Mad Dog and an Englishman, Ruins, Retsina — and Real Greeks (London: Nicholas Brealey Publishing, 2004), 83 – 84; and Patricia Storace, Dinner with Persephone: Travels in Greece (London: Granta, 1997), passim. 119. Yiannis Sakellarakis, Εισαγωγή στην Αρχαία Ελληνική Θρησκεία: Οι Κρητικές ρίζες (Irakleio: Vikelaia Vivliothiki, 1995), 64 – 65. Notes to Chapter 7 1. John Mauropous, In magnas festorum tabulas [. . .] commentarius [. . .] versibus iambicis, 43, PG, 120, 1156 (English trans. by Constantelos, Christian Hellenism, 20 – 21). 2. Nicol, “The Byzantine Church,” 45. 3. Alois Kehl, “Antike Volksfrömmigkeit und das Christentum,” in J. Martin/B. Quint (eds.), Christentum und antike Gesellschaft (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1990), 103 – 42. 4. Anastasia D. Vakaloudi, “ Ἀποτροπαϊκὰ φυλακτὰ τῆς πρώτης βυζαντινῆς περιόδου. Ἡ λειτουργία τῶν ἀπεικονίσεων καὶ τῶν ἐπωδῶν. Ὁ ρόλος τῶν Χριστιανῶν Ἁγίων,” Βυζαντινά 19 (1998): 227 – 44.

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5. Antonis Kotidis, “Ο θεός της γιαγιάς μου,” Το Βήμα της Κυριακής, 23 July 2000. 6. Ritter, “Kirche und Staat,” 60 – 99. 7. The “Epigraphic Bulletin for Greek Religion,” regularly published in the review Kernos, provides again ample information on such individual cases. 8. Margaret M. Mitchell, “Gentile Christianity,” in Margaret M. Mitchell/Frances M. Young (eds.), The Cambridge History of Christianity, vol. 1, Origins to Constantine (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2006), 103 – 24. 9. Christine Trevett, “Asia Minor and Achaea,” in Mitchell/Young (eds.), The Cambridge History of Christianity, 314 – 29. 10. Garth Fowden, “The Individual and the Gods,” in Alan Bowman/Averil Cameron/Peter Garnsey (eds.), The Cambridge Ancient History, vol. 12, The Crisis of Empire, AD 193-337, 2d ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2005), 538 – 52. 11. Numenius, Fragment, 8 (ed. E. des Places, Paris: Les Belles Letters, 1973). 12. Michael Frede, “Numenius,” in Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt, II.36.2. (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1987), 1034 – 75. 13. Lukian, Der Tod des Peregrinos, ed., transl., and comm. by P. Pilhofer et al. (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2005). 14. Hans Dieter Betz, “Lukian von Samosata und das Christentum,” in H. D. Betz, Hellenismus und Urchistentum: Gesammelte Aufsätze I (Tübingen: Mohr, 1990), 10 – 21. 15. Michael Frede, “Monotheism and Pagan Philosophy in Later Antiquity,” in Frede/Athanassiadi (eds.), Pagan Monotheism, 41 – 67. 16. Ibid., 66 – 67. 17. Polymnia Athanassiadi, “The Chaldaean Oracles: Theology and Theurgy,” in Frede/Athanassiadi (eds.), Pagan Monotheism, 149 – 83. 18. Gregory of Nazianzus, Contra Eunomium, 2, PG, 45, 484. 19. Stephen Mitchell, “The Cult of Theos Hypsistos Between Pagans, Jews, and Christians,” in Frede/Athanassiadi (eds.), Pagan Monotheism, 81 – 148. 20. Olympiodorus, In Platonis Gorgiam, 47, 2 (ed. by L. G. Westerink, Leipzig: Teubner, 1970, 243). 21. Barry Baldwin, “Palladas of Alexandria: A Poet Between Two Worlds,” L’Antiquité classique 54 (1985): 267 – 73. 22. Kaegi, “The Fifth-Century Twilight,” 269 – 70. 23. Uwe Michael Lang, John Philoponus and the Controversies over Chalcedon in the Sixth Century (Leuven: Peeters, 2001). 24. Christian Lacombrade, Synésios de Cyrène: Hellène et Chrétien (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1951); and Jay Bregman, Synesius of Cyrene: Philosopher-Bishop (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1982). 25. Tassilo Schmitt, Die Bekehrung des Synesios von Kyrene (Munich: K. G. Saur, 2001). 26. Bowersock, Hellenism, 43.

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27. Anthony Kaldellis, The Argument of Psellos’ Chronographia (Leiden: Brill, 1999); idem, Procopius of Caesarea: Tyranny, History, and Philosophy at the End of Antiquity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004); and idem, Hellenism in Byzantium, passim. 28. Michael Maas, John Lydus and the Roman Past (London: Routledge, 1992), 117, 118. See also Anthony Kaldellis, “The Religion of Ioannes Lydos,” Phoenix 57 (2003): 300 – 316. 29. Averil and Alan Cameron, “The Cycle of Agathias,” JHS 86 (1966): 6 – 25; and Ronald C. McCail, “The Cycle of Agathias: New Identifications Scrutinized,” JHS 89 (1969): 87 – 96. 30. Agathias, The Histories, 2, 30. 31. Averil Cameron, Agathias (Oxford: Clarendon, 1970). 32. Anthony Kaldellis, “The Historical and Religious Views of Agathias: A Reinterpretation,” Byzantion 69 (1999): 206 – 52; and idem, “Things Are Not What They Are: Agathias Mythistoricus and the Last Laugh of Classical,” The Classical Quarterly (n.s.) 53 (2003): 295 – 300. 33. Mary Whitby, “The Occasion of Paul the Silentiary’s Ekphrasis of S. Sophia,” The Classical Quarterly (n.s.) 35 (1985): 219. 34. ODB, s.v. “Greek Anthology.” 35. Apostolos Karpozilos, Συμβολὴ στὴ μελέτη τοῦ βίου καὶ τοῦ ἔργου τοῦ Ἰωάννη Μαυρόποδος (Ioannina: Dodoni, 1982); and idem, The Letters of Ioannes Mauropous, Metropolitan of Euchaita (Thessalonica: Association for Byzantine Research, 1990). 36. John Duffy, “Hellenic Philosophy in Byzantium and the Lonely Mission of Michael Psellos,” in Ierodiakonou (ed.), Byzantine Philosophy, 139 – 56. 37. Dionysios G. Dakouras, “Michael Psellos’ Kritik an den alten Griechen und dem griechischen Kult,” Θεολογία 48 (1977): 40 – 75; and Benakis, Βυζαντινὴ φιλοσοφία, 335 – 486. 38. Cited in Konstantinos N. Sathas, Μεσαιωνικὴ Βιβλιοθήκη (Paris, 1876), 5:447. 39. Polymnia Athanassiadi, “Byzantine Commentators on the Chaldaean Oracles: Psellos and Plethon,” in Ierodiakonou (ed.), Byzantine Philosophy, 237 – 52. 40. Kaldellis, Hellenism in Byzantium, 191 – 224; and Charles Barber/David Jenkins (eds.), Reading Michael Psellos (Leiden: Brill, 2006). 41. Donald M. Nicol, The Last Centuries of Byzantium, 1261 – 1453, 2d ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1993), 345. 42. Christopher M. Woodhouse, George Gemistos Plethon: The Last of the Hellenes (Oxford: Clarendon, 1986). 43. Georgius Gemistus Plethon, Ad regem Emmanuelem de rebus peloponnesiacis oratio 1, PG, 160, 821, 824. 44. John A. Demetracopoulos, “Georgios Scholarios — Gennadios II’s Florilegium Thomisticum II (De fato) and its Anti-Plethonic Tenor,” Recherches de

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Théologie et Philosophie médiévales 74 (2007): 339 – 44; and John Monfasani, “Pletho’s Date of Death and the Burning of his Laws,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 98 (2005): 462 – 63. 45. English translation in Woodhouse, George Gemistos Plethon, 322 – 56. 46. Martin Jugie, “La polémique de Georges Scholarios contre Pléthon,” Byzantion 10 (1935): 517 – 30. 47. Spyridon P. Lambros, Παλαιολόγεια καὶ Πελοποννησιακά (Athens, 1912 – 24), 2:252. 48. Milton V. Anastos, “Pletho’s Calendar and Liturgy,” DOP 4 (1948): 183 – 305; and Solomon Gandz, “The Calendar-Reform of Pletho,” Osiris 9 (1950): 199 – 210. 49. English translation from Constantine Th. Dimaras, “Greece 1750 – 1850”, in Dover (ed.), Perceptions, 223. 50. Kitromilides, Νεοελληνικὸς Διαφωτισμός, 33 – 42. 51. Dimitris G. Apostolopoulos, “Ο ρόλος των Φαναριωτών στη δημιουργία του έθνους των Ελλήνων,” Το Βήμα της Κυριακής, 25 March 2000; idem, Γιὰ τοὺς Φαναριῶτες. Δοκιμὲς ἑρμηνείας καὶ μικρὰ ἀναλυτικά (Athens: Kentro Neoellinikon Erevnon, 2003). 52. Paschalis M. Kitromilides, The Enlightenment as Social Criticism: Iosipos Moisiodax and Greek Culture in the Eighteenth Century (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1992). 53. English translation from Richard Clogg (ed.), The Movement for Greek Independence, 1770 – 1821: A Collection of Documents (London: Macmillan, 1976), 91 – 92. 54. Ibid., 149 – 63. 55. Stelios Fassoulakis, “Gibbon’s Influence on Koraes,” in R. Beaton/C. Roueché (eds.), The Making of Byzantine History (Aldershot, UK: Variorum, 1993), 169–73. 56. Panayiotis D. Mastrodimitris, Ἀvαφoρὰ στoὺς Ἀρχαίoυς (Athens: Idryma Goulandri-Horn, 1994), 17–31. 57. Georgios D. Metallinos, Παράδoση καὶ ἀλλoτρίωση (Athens: Domos, 1986), 139–90; and Christos Yannaras, Ὀρθoδoξία καὶ Δύση στὴ νεώτερη Ἑλλάδα (Athens: Domos, 1992), 214–28. 58. Iliou, Ἰδεoλoγικές χρήσεις τoῦ Κoραϊσμoῦ, passim. 59. Neophytos Doukas, Ἐπιστολὴ πρὸς τὸν Παναγιώτατον Πατριάρχην Κύριον Κύριλλον περὶ Ἐκκλησιαστικῆς Εὐταξίας, 2d ed. (Vienna, 1815), 74. 60. Clogg, “Sense of the Past,” 22. 61. Ibid. 62. Loudovikos Sotiris/Anastasios of Ampelakia, Ἀπολογία Ἱστορικοκριτική (Trieste, 1814). 63. Peter Bien et al. (eds.), A Century of Greek Poetry: 1900 – 2000: Bilingual Edition (River Vale, NJ: Cosmos, 2004). 64. Aphroditi Kamara, Η αντιπαγανιστική νομοθεσία της Ύστερης Ρωμαϊκής Αυτοκρατορίας μέσα από τους Κώδικες, 2d ed. (Athens: Katarti, 2003); and

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Dimitris K. Krevvatas, Το Βυζάντιο και ο διωγμός του Ελληνισμού, 2d ed. (Athens: Kastaniotis, 2005). 65. Andreas Laskaratos, Αὐτοβιογραφία, transl. by P. Theodoratos; introduction and notes by A. Sideri (Athens: Gnosi, 1983). 66. Alkis Angelou, “ Ἡ Ἐκκλησία, ἡ Πάπισσα, ὁ Ροΐδης,” in Emmanouil Roidis, Ἡ Πάπισσα Ἰωάννα (Athens: Estia, [1866] 1993), 33 – 57. 67. Michael Antonakes, “Christ, Kazantzakis, and Controversy in Greece,” Modern Greek Studies Yearbook 6 (1990): 331 – 43. 68. Peter Bien, Tempted by Happiness: Kazantzakis’ Post-Christian Christ (Wallingford, PA: Pendle Hill Publications, 1984); and idem, “Kazantzakis’s Metachristian Play Nikiforos Fokas,” JMGS 16 (1998): 265 – 84. 69. Darren J. N. Middleton/Peter Bien (eds.), God’s Struggler: Religion in the Writings of Nikos Kazantzakis (Macon: Mercer UP, 1996). 70. Makriyannis, The Memoirs of General Makriyannis, 1797 – 1864, ed. and transl. by H. A. Lidderdale (London: Oxford UP, 1966), 145 – 49. 71. Ibid., 151 – 52. 72. General Makriyiannis, Ὁράματα καὶ θάματα, ed. by A. N. Papakostas (Athens: Morfotiko Idryma Ethnikis Trapezis, 1983). 73. Cited in Dimaras, “ Ἡ ἰδεoλoγικὴ ὑπoδoμή,” 476. 74. Ion Dragoumis, Ἑλληνικὸς Πολιτισμός (Athens, 1914); and idem, Ὁ Ἑλληνισμός μου καὶ οἱ Ἕλληνες (Athens, 1927). 75. Leon Brang, Τό μέλλον τοῦ Ἑλληνισμοῦ στόν ἰδεολογικό κόσμο τοῦ Ἀποστόλου Μακράκη (Athens: Armos, 1997), 113 – 339. 76. Michel Grodent, “Au-delà du christianisme et du paganisme,” in Philosophies non chrétiennes et Christianisme (Brussels: Institut de Philosophie et de Sciences Morales, 1984), 121–33. 77. Cited in Kardasis, The Olympic Games, 125. 78. Ibid., 127, 129. 79. Gerhard Emrich, Antike Metaphern und Vergleiche im lyrischen Werk des Kostis Palamas (Amsterdam: Adolf M. Hakkert, 1974). 80. Gounaridis, Γένος Ρωμαίων, 32 – 33. 81. Dimitrios S. Balanos, “Αἱ θρησκευτικαὶ ἀντιλήψεις τοῦ Κωστῆ Παλαμᾶ,” Νέα Ἑστία (Christmas issue, 1943). 82. David Ricks, “Papadiamantis, Paganism and the Sanctity of Place,” Journal of Mediterranean Studies 2 (1992): 169–82. 83. Sarah Ekdawi, “Cavafy’s Byzantium,” BMGS 20 (1996): 17 – 34. 84. Diana Haas, Le problème réligieux dans l’oeuvre de Cavafy: Les années de formation (1882 – 1905) (Paris: Presses de l’Université de Paris-Sorbonne, 1996). 85. The Complete Poems of Cavafy, transl. by Rae Dalven (New York: Harvest, 1968), 34. 86. Angelo Sikelianos, Δελφικὲς Ἑορτές/Fêtes de Delphes/Delphic Festival/Feste di Delfi/Delphische Festspiele, 1927 (Delphi, 1927).

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87. Lia Papadakis, Το εφηβικό πρότυπο και η Δελφική προσπάθεια του Άγγελου Σικελιανού (Athens: Kentro Neoellinikon Erevnon, 1995), 127. 88. Konstantinos Tsatsos, Ἡ ζωή σέ ἀπόσταση (Athens: Oi Ekdoseis ton Filon, 1985), 17–29. 89. See Ἐκκλησιαστική Ἀλήθεια, 16 February 1986; and Georgios Metallinos, Ὀρθοδοξία καὶ Ἑλληνικότητα (Athens: Minima, 1987), 75. 90. Dimitris G. Tsaousis (ed.), Ἑλληvισμός— Ἑλληvικότητα (Athens: Estia, 1983); Artemis Leontis, Topographies of Hellenism: Mapping the Homeland (Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1995); and Zacharia (ed.), Hellenisms, pts. 2 and 3. 91. Kostas Papaioannou, Βυζαντινή και ρωσική ζωγραφική (Athens: Enallaktikes ekdoseis, 2007). 92. See his interview in the newspaper Ελευθεροτυπία, 20 and 27 March 1994; and Cornelius Castoriadis, Η ελληνική ιδιαιτερότητα, vols. 1 – 2 (Athens: Kritiki, 2007 – 2008). 93. Yiorgos Theotokas, Ἡ Ὀρθοδοξία στὸν καιρό μας (Athens: Oi Ekdoseis ton Filon, 1975), 30 – 37. 94. Yiannis Tsarouchis, Ἀνάμεσα σὲ Ἀνατολὴ καὶ Δύση (Athens: Agra, 2000). 95. Marina Lambraki-Plaka, “Η ζωγραφική του Αλέκου Φασιανού:. Ένας λαϊκός παγανισμός,” in Φασιανός: Μυθολογίες του καθημερινού (Exhibition National Art Gallery, Museum Alexander Soutzos, Athens, 24 November 2004 – 28 February 2005). 96. Marinos Kalligas, Γιαννούλης Χαλεπᾶς: Ἡ ζωὴ καὶ τὸ ἔργο του (Athens: Emporiki Trapeza tis Ellados, 1972); and Yannoulis Chalepas: 6 February – 30 June 2007: Exhibition Catalogue (Athens: National Gallery — Alexandros Soutzos Museum — National Glyptotheque, 2007). 97. Mikis Theodorakis/Yiorgos Kontoyiorgis, Ελληνικότητα και «διανόηση» (Thessalonica: Ianos, 2007), 18 – 76. 98. Cited in Kokosalakis, “The Political Significance,” 46. 99. Christos Yannaras, “Θρησκεία καί Ἑλληvικότητα,” in Tsaousis (ed.), Ἑλληvισμός—Ἑλληvικότητα, 243–48. 100. Christos Yannaras, “Εκσυγχρονισμός, δηλαδή εξελληνισμός,” H Καθημερινή, 2 July 1995. 101. Kostas Zouraris, Ἄθλια, ἆθλα, θέμεθλα (Athens: Armos, 1997). 102. Stelios Ramfos, Ὁ καημὸς τοῦ ἑνός: Κεφάλαια τῆς ψυχικῆς ἱστορίας τῶν Ἑλλήνων (Athens: Armos, 2000). 103. See the newspaper Νέα Πvoή 19 (March 1986): 1, edited by the “Greek Orthodox Salvation Movement.” 104. Augustinos, Metropolitan of Florina, Prespes, and Eordaia, “ Ἡ Ἑλλὰς ἐv κιvδύvῳ,” Ἐκκλησία 71 (1994): 728–30; and idem, The Greek Nation/Τὸ ἑλληνικὸν ἔθνος: Three Speeches on the Greek Nation, Its Miraculous Survival, and Unique Contributions (Belmont, MA: Institute for Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies, 1998).

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105. See Τρίτo Μάτι 40 (1994): 60; 47 (1995): 54. 106. See Αέρoπoς 5 (1996): 11, 28. 107. See Αέρoπoς 4 (1995): 4–8. 108. Interview in the newspaper Ελευθερία (Larissa), 7 March 1995. 109. Kyriakos Velopoulos, Ιησούς και Δίας: Ορθοδοξία και Δωδεκάθεο (Thessalonica: Kadmos, n.d. [2003]). 110. Cf. Kostas Plevris’s ideas in Δαυλός 172 (1996): 10432–33; 180 (1996): 10937–38. 111. See Δαυλός 164–65 (1995): 9821–28. 112. See Δαυλός 164–65 (1995): 9831–36. 113. See Δαυλός 145 (1994): 8436–37; 167 (1995): 9968–69. 114. See Δαυλός 137 (1993): 7940. Notes to the Epilogue 1. See “ ‘Notre Église a été pendant vingt siècles le levain du peuple grec’: Un entretien avec l’archevêque Christodoulos d’Athènes,” Service orthodoxe de presse 296 (2005): 19 – 23. 2. Emmanouil Io. Konstantinidis, “Σταθμοὶ τῆς ἱστορικῆς πορείας τῆς ἐν Ἑλλάδι Ἐκκλησίας,” in Δίπτυχα τῆς Ἐκκλησίας τῆς Ἑλλάδος 2000 (Athens: Apostoliki Diakonia, 2000). 3. See the homepage of the “Church of Hellenes” at http://www.hellenic religion.gr. 4. Mazower, Salonica, passim. 5. Charles Stewart, “Who Owns the Rotonda? Church vs. State in Greece,” Anthropology Today 14/5 (October 1998): 3 – 9.

Index

Academy (in ancient Athens), 44, 117, 190, 238, 244; closed by Emperor Justinian I, 134, 210, 242. See also Plato Acathist Hymn, 131 Achaea, 23, 51 Acropolis, 1, 18, 21, 43, 83, 127, 143, 166; the Acropolis Museum, 1; its re-Hellenization in modern Greece, 220 – 221; in Ottoman times, 99 – 100. See also Athens; Parthenon Adam, 144 Adonis, 40, 194 Adrianople, 54, 246 Aegean: civilization (Cycladic), 19; coast, 10; Islands, 12, 55, 57; North, 219; religion, 19 Aegina, 2, 83; Convent of the Holy Trinity in, 2 Aeschines, 209 Aeschylus, 36, 38, 262; The Persians, 38; Prometheus Bound, 262 Africa, North, 10 Agathias Scholasticus, 242; reedition of Greek or Palatine Anthology, 242 Agia Eleni, 225 Agourides, Savas, 190 Albanian language, 251; Albanians, 251 Alexakis, Vassilis, 151 Alexander the Great, 10, 22, 23, 42, 83, 168, 174 Alexandria, 10, 22, 26, 40, 75, 83, 93, 122, 123, 126, 130, 153, 157, 158, 170, 176, 238, 239, 240, 261; Alexandrian grammarians and critics, 165 Alexios I Comnenos, Emperor, 75, 103 Alivisatos, Hamilcar S., 48 Allatios Leo, 218; De Graecorum hodie quorundam opinationibus, 218 Amiroutzes, George, 97 Ampelakia, 256 Amphictyonies, 37; Delphic Amphictyonic League, 37. See also Delphi

Amphilochius, Bishop, 164 Anacreon, 173, 216 Anastasios, Emperor, 204 Anastasios of Ampelakia, 256 Anastenaria, 192, 225 – 227; Anastenarides, 192; Christianized ritual, 228; church attitude towards, 226 – 227; related to Greek historical continuity and national interests, 226, 227. See also Greek continuity Anatolia, 93; central coastal, 28; Neolithic, 19 Anaxagoras, 29 Andreas, Archbishop, 52 Andrew, the Apostle, 50, 266; Apocryphal Acts of Andrew, 50; as patron of healing, 167 – 168 Anglicans, 106; Anglican Non-Jurors, 75 Annunciation of the Virgin Mary, feast of the, 96, 178. See also Mary, Virgin Anthimos, Patriarch, 98; Paternal Teaching, 98 Anthrakitis, Methodios, 171 Antigonos, 22 Anti-Judaism: Christian, 82; Greek Orthodox, 84 – 85, 86 – 87, 89, 91 – 92. See also Judaism and Christianity Antioch, 10, 22, 48, 75, 85, 93, 133 Antiochos IV Epiphanes, King, 83 Anti-Romeic Hellenocentrists in modern Greece, 144, 151; against Greek historical continuity, 144; the Davlos-group, 145 – 146, 269; fierce critics of Judaism, Christianity, Byzantium and Helleno-Christianity, 144 – 146, 147, 267 – 268; their Hellenic revival, 144 – 146; potential rapprochement between Hellenism and Christianity in modern Greece, 268 – 269; preference for polytheism, 146; syncretisms within, 267 – 269. See also Neopagans Anti-Semitism, 85, 88, 91, 268 – 269; incidents in Corfu, Kavala, Kastoria and Thessalonica (Campbell), 88, 89; official church

319

320

Index

Anti-Semitism (cont’d ) condemning anti-Semitism, 88, 92. See also Jews in Greece Anti-Westernism, Orthodox: in Byzantium, 68 – 69, 97 – 98, 105; and Orthodox-Islamic alliance, 94, 98; in modern Greece, 71, 106, 258 – 259, 265 – 266; under Ottoman rule, 69 – 71, 139 – 141, 177. See also Byzantium; Orthodox Christianity; Orthodox Church; Orthodoxy; Protestantism; Roman Catholic Church; Western Europe; Western Christianity Antoninus Pius, Emperor, 50, 157 Apameia, 235 Aphrodisias, 239 Aphrodite, 20, 27, 140 Apollo, 20, 21, 28, 29, 126, 127, 149, 150, 205; Pythios, 127; Apollonian spirit, 262. See also Delphi; Sikelianos, Angelos Apollodorus, 239 Apollonius of Tyana, 123, 176 Apologists, Christian, 50, 120, 159, 176, 230 Apostoli(o)s, Michael, 170 Aquila, 83 Arabs, 93, 94, 163; and Byzantium, 93, 97; and Constantinople, 93; and Greece, 93; and Western Europe, 94. See also Islam; Western Europe Aratos, 119, 131 Arcadia ideal, 268 Arcadius, Emperor, 125, 132 Archaic period/times, 20, 24, 28 Archaization of names: as baptismal names in modern Greece, 140 – 141; church reactions against, 141, 149; by modern Greeks, 140; among Orthodox Romeic people outside Greece, 180; on various occasions, 149. See also Hellenic revival Ares, 19, 140 Arethas, Archbishop, 52 Argos, 51, 215 Argo-Saronic Gulf, 2 Arius, 130; Arianism, 130 Aristides, Athenian statesman, 258 Aristides, the Christian Apologist, 50, 120; Apology, 120 Aristogeiton, 216 Aristophanes, 36; in Byzantium, 165; and the church in modern Greece, 187 – 188; Plutus, 187

Aristotelian (Peripatetic) philosophy/logic/ cosmology, 53, 166, 177, 238; appropriated by Christians in Byzantium, 163, 165, 166, 239; disliked by Plethon, 247; Neo-Aristotelianism in Ottoman Greece, 172, 249; the notion of “double truth,” 172; problems with Christian Orthodoxy in Ottoman Greece, 138, 141. See also Aristotle Aristotle, 42, 83, 137, 138, 175, 176; Aristotelians, 137; viewed by Christians as the “thirteenth of the Apostles,” 164; in Byzantium, 165, 166, 168; Metaphysics, 168; in Ottoman times, 172. See also Aristotelian Aroquis, Moses, 81 Arsacius, 8 Art (pagan): Byzantine admiration towards, 212; used by Christians, 159, 166 – 167; used throughout Byzantium, 211 – 212 Arta, 84 Artemis/Diana, 27; cult of, in Philippi, 200, 201; temple of, on Corfu, 20; temple of, on Delos, 20; temple of, on Patmos, 127 “Aryan humanism,” 263 Asia, 37, 51 Asia Minor, 10, 23, 32, 49, 50, 51, 83, 89, 94, 107, 134, 141, 180, 238, 251; coast of, 12; western, 22 Asikpashazadé, 81 Ashkenazi Jews, 85. See also Jews in Greece; Romaniote Jews; Sephardic Jews Asklepieion (Athens), 127, 167, 207; Asklepiarion and Christian-pagan mixture, 207 Asklepieion (Corinth), 198, 205 Asklepios, 30 Asopios, Eirinaios, 14 2 Astros, 57; National Assembly at, 57 Athanasius of Alexandria, 40 Athena, 1, 18, 24, 27, 127, 149, 166; Boulaia, 27; Doric temple of the Athena Aphaia (Aigina), 2; Pallas, 149; Polias, 27; statue of, in the Parthenon, 127 Athenagoras, 50, 120; Embassy or Petition for the Christians, 120 Athenians: ancient, 17, 118, 119, 216, 217; modern, 222 Athens, 18, 20, 21, 24, 27, 29, 38, 40, 44, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 58, 59, 73, 87, 88, 89, 96, 97, 99, 107, 117, 118, 119, 120, 123, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 142, 143, 147, 148, 157, 158, 166, 167, 168, 169, 178, 179, 180, 183, 184, 187, 202, 203,

Index 321 210, 221, 222, 229, 238, 257, 260; Academy of Athens (modern) in, 149, 222; Ancient Agora in, 83, 128; ancient Stadium (Panathenaic) in, 143, 221; antiquities at metro stations, 1; archbishop of, 57; Archaeological Society in Athens, 221; Athenian democracy, 183; Athenocentrism in antiquity, 39; Byzantine and Christian Museum in, 179, 229; Byzantine churches in, 2; Cathedral of Athens, 1, 54, 128, 222; Council of Areopagus in, 119; Europeanization of, in the nineteenth century, 221; First Gymnasium of, 176; hill of Areopagus in, 118, 202; hill of Pnyx in, 176; the Ilion Melathron/Numismatics Museum in, 221; Kapnikarea church, 2: Lycabettus Hill with the chapel of Saint George in, 2; monastery of Daphni outside, 53; monastery of Kaisariani, 57; Monastiraki in, 2; mosques in, 96, 97, 110; Museum of Greek Folk Art in, 2; National Archaeological Museum in, 1, 178, 221; National Library in, 222; National Polytechnic University in, 221; neoclassical architecture in, 221 – 222; Petraki monastery in, 2; Plaka in, 1; Presidential Palace in, 221; Psyrri Square in, 88; Roman Agora by the Tower of the Winds in, 128; Syntagma Square in, 1; Tzisdaraki Mosque, 2; University of, 142, 149, 179, 180, 185, 222, 224, 252; Zappeion Exhibition Hall in, 221. See also Academy; Hellenic religion Athos, Holy Mountain, 53, 57, 104, 151, 176, 255; Monastery of Iviron, 175; Monastery of Megisti Lavra, 175; monastic revival of, 60 Atomism, 35 Attalos, 22 Attic dialect, 39, 173 Attica, 12, 205 Attis, 22 Aquinas, Thomas, 105; translated into Greek, 105 Augustine, 74 Axis Powers, 89 Balanos, Dimitrios S., 261 Balfour Declaration, 88 Balkans, 43, 54, 56, 93, 95, 175, 251 Balsamon, Theodore, 208 Barthélemy, Jean-Jacques, 43; Le voyage du jeune Anacharsis en Grèce, 43 Bartholdy, Jakob Ludwig Salomon, 87

Basil I, Emperor, 104, 206 Basil of Caesarea, 82, 130, 131, 140, 149, 152, 161, 162, 181, 210; homilies on the Hexaemeron, 130; legacy in East and West, 152; To Young Men, on How They Might Derive Profit from Pagan Literature, 152, 161 Basil the Bogomile, 103 Basilica, 51, 52, 127, 166, 199, 200, 202; church architecture in Byzantium, 166 Beck, Hans-Georg, 103 Bektashi Muslims, 99 Bellerophon, 211 Benakis, Linos G., 175, 245 Bernal, Martin, 146; Black Athena, 146 Beroea, 27, 48, 49, 83 Bessarion, Cardinal, 105, 137 Bèze, Theodore de, 170 Bible/Biblical texts, 73, 106, 129, 130, 143, 161, 162, 169, 171, 172, 174, 210, 230, 235, 266, 267; Biblical history, 168, 174; Biblical precedent over Greek philosophy, 158 – 59, 236; church against Bible translations into vernacular Greek, 171 – 172, 185; in comparison to Greek wisdom, 119, 130; critical views against the Old Testament, 91, 143 – 144, 146; Hebrew Bible/Old Testament/Septuaginta, 83, 92, 236, 268, 269; New Testament, 83, 171, 185, 267; position of the Old Testament in Greek Orthodoxy, 149; role of the Bible in preserving the Greek language, 177. See also Anti-Semitism; Christianity; Orthodox Church; Patriarchate of Constantinople Bithynia, 121, 123 Black Sea, 10, 12, 20, 192 Blood sacrifices: Christian alternatives to, 198; Christian denial/criticism of, 121, 198; distribution and eating of sacrificial meat, 198 – 199, 236; pagan critics of, 197; practiced by Greek, Roman, and Jews, 197; state prohibition of, 125; survival of, in Byzantium, 208; survival of, in modern Greece, 225; survival of, in Ottoman times as Kurbania, 219. See also Hellenic religion; Orthodox Church; Paganism Boeotia, 12, 83 Bogomils, 103 Bolsheviks against classical education, 186 Bowersock, Glen W., 193 Brown, Peter, 71 – 72 Brumalia, festival of, 208

322

Index

Brusa, 97 Bryennios, Joseph, 69, 208 Bucharest, 10, 250, 255 Bulgars, 104; Bulgarian language, 251; Bulgarians, 251 Burkert, Walter, 17, 63 Byron, Lord, 46, 78 Byzantines: combination between Roman and Hellenic identities, 75; elites and ancient Greek education/culture, 209 – 210, 212; emigrating to the West and disseminating ancient Greek culture, 77 – 78, 80, 105, 137; as Greeks and distinguished from Hellenes, 74; as Hellenes, 74 – 75, 135 – 136; as Romans, 73 – 74, 75, 93, 135; al-Rūm” in Arabic sources, 93. See also East Roman Empire; Greece; Roman Empire; Romeic Hellenism Byzantium/Byzantine Empire: its admirers in modern Greece, 151, 259, 266; built upon Roman statecraft, Hellenic culture, and Christianity, 203; Byzantine intrigues, 78; Byzantinism, 78; its critics in modern Greece and its disassociation from ancient Greece, 76, 78, 142 – 143, 151, 253, 259, 264; decline of, 246; end of, 54; first chair of Byzantine history in Athens, 179; Hellenization of, 73, 77, 135, 136; as “Imperium Graecorum” from a Western perspective, 74; as “Imperium Romanorum” or “Romania,” 74; modern Greek attempts at nationalizing and reconstituting of, 58, 178; Roman tradition in, 73 – 75, 77, 135; term coined by Hieronymus Wolf, 78; its upgrading in modern Greece, 178 – 179; See also Constantinople; East Roman Empire; Greece; Orthodox Church; Patriarchate of Constantinople; Roman Catholic Church; Roman Empire; Western Christianity; Western Europe Caesarea (Cappadocia), 82, 130 Caesarea (Palestine), 40, 52, 166 Cain, 143 Calends, feast of the, 208 Callipoli, 54, 93 Calvinists, 106. See also Protestantism Cappadocian Church Fathers/Cappadocians, 130, 153, 161, 162, 163, 164, 182, 235; their selective use of Hellenism/Platonism, 161 – 162, 235; on the value of Hellenic learning, 162. See also Ecumenical Councils;

Orthodox Christianity; Orthodox Church; Orthodoxy Capuchins, 105. See also Roman Catholic Church Caracalla (M. Aurelius Antoninus), Emperor, 74 Carnival in modern Greece, 227 – 228; church reactions against, 227 – 228 Caryatids, 221, 222 Castoriadis, Cornelius, 264 Catherine II, Empress, 173 Catherine, Saint, monastery of, 181 Cavafy, Constantine, 261 – 262; “Perilous Things,” 261 Cave of Pan (Mount Parnes, Attica), 205 Cave of Pan, the Nymphs and Apollo (Mount Hymettos, Attica), 205; Roman lamps found in, 205 Celsus, 122, 123, 238; True Word, 122 Cephalas, Constantine, 243 Chalcedon, 102 Chaldeans (Babylonians), 120; Chaldaean Oracles, 244 Chalepas, Yiannoulis, 265 Chalkis, 84 Charlemagne, King, 65, 77, 80; Carolingian dynasty, 79 Chateaubriand, François-René, 45 Chimaera, 211 Chiones, 97 Chios, 32, 53, 218; Chians, 126 Chitty, Derwas J., 49 Choniates, Michael, Metropolitan, 52, 166 Choniates, Niketas, 52, 208, Choumnos, Nikephoros, 154 Chourmouziadis, Anastasios, 227 “Christian Hellenism,” synthesis of, 149, 161, 249; Helleno-Christian synthesis, patristic, 153, 186; perennial paradigmatic function in the church and in Greek Orthodox history, 161, 176, 177, 179, 184. See also Cappadocian Church Fathers; Helleno-Christianity; “Humanism, Orthodox Christian” Christianity: absoluteness of, 119, 122, 154 – 155; accused of atheism by pagans, 121; advantages over paganism, 115 – 116, 133, 149, 154 – 155; as an ancient religion, 63, 64, 160; bipolar attitude towards classical literature, 130 – 131, 161 – 162; Christian strategy of substituting paganism, 155 – 156, 167 – 168;

Index 323 critique of ancient Greek rhetoric and philosophy, 130, 131, 140; developing its own rituals, 197; early, 62, 102, 143, 155, 156, 166, 234; critique of Hellenism in Christian worship, 131; enmity towards education, 165; early spread of, in Greece, 49 – 50, 62; exclusivity and inclusivity of, 115 – 116, 154 – 155; its Hellenization in modern Greece, 144, 259; its Jewish surroundings, 153; and missionary activities, 49 – 50, 64, 84, 134, 152, 154 – 155, 160, 199, 205, 206; and mystery cults, 63 – 64, 159, 196; and pagan vocabulary, 159 – 160; in Palestinian environment, 118, 196; plurality within early, 66, 234 – 235; rejected as a Jewish religion in modern Greece, 144; state support of, 117, 160; suspicion towards Hellenism, 136, 139, 156; universalism of, 72 – 73; unsuccessful in fully suppressing paganism, 195. See also Conversion; Orthodox Christianity; Orthodox Church; Orthodoxy; Paganism Christodoulos, Archbishop, 148 – 149, 187 – 188, 228; in favour of the Athens Olympic Games of 2004, 188; Proselyte Hellenism, 149; his state-supported, official funeral, 189 Christodoulos, John, 127 Christopher the Cynocephalus, Saint, 229 Christopoulos, Athanasios and his lyric poetry, 216 Chronicles, historical, 173; Christian presuppositions and aims of, 173 – 174; detrimental to ancient Greek history, 173, 174; their new orientations in the eighteenth century, 174. See also World chronicles, Byzantine Chrysoloras, Manuel, 168 – 169 Chrysostomos, Metropolitan, 89 Church Fathers: Greek, 67, 71, 149, 169, 177, 182, 185, 254, 255, 261; Greek patristic heritage/tradition, 74, 215; Greek patristic literature, 169, 171, 185, 209; Greek patristic synthesis, 186; Latin, 74. See also Cappadocian Church Fathers; Ecumenical Councils; Orthodox Christianity; Orthodoxy; Theology, Christian Classical: Antiquity, 203, 214, 243; Christians excluded from teaching classical subjects, 132; civilization, 249; education/learning, 77, 80, 94, 131, 135, 163, 164, 165, 169, 242, 243; era/period/times, 1, 12, 19, 21, 28, 38, 43; Greece, 13, 19, 42, 141; heritage, 163;

literature, 130, 132, 137, 164, 173, 209; philology, 42; studies, 43; tradition in Byzantium, 135, 165. See also Greek Antiquity; Greek culture; Greek literature, ancient; Hellenic culture; Hellenic education; Hellenic tradition/heritage; Paganism Claudius Ptolemaeus, 22 Clearchus of Soli, 83 Cleisthenes, 20 Clement of Alexandria, 157 – 158; Exhortation to the Hellenes, 158; Instructor, 158; Miscellanies, 158; positive role of Greek philosophy for Christians, 158 Collegio Greco di S. Atanasio (Rome), 105. See also Roman Catholic Church Colonels’ dictatorship, 58; slogan “Greece of the Hellenes and Christians,” 183 Colonies, Greek, 10, 20; relations with mother cities, 24, 37 Commodus, Emperor, 50 Comnena, Anna, 75 Constantine I, Emperor, 51, 65, 124, 133, 211, 212, 261 Constantine I, King, 59 Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus, Emperor, 206 Constantine IX Monomachos, Emperor, 243 Constantine, Saint, 99; church of, in Athens, 222; feast of, 225 Constantinople, 52, 68, 69, 72, 75, 77, 84, 85, 93, 95, 97, 98, 103, 104, 106, 124, 126, 134, 137, 142, 167, 207, 207, 208, 209, 211, 212, 240, 241, 242, 246, 247, 250; Academy of, in Byzantium, 244; and Brief Historical Notes, 211; church of Hagia Sophia in, 79, 242; coexistence of Hellenic and Christian monuments in, 211; Fall of, 9, 54, 69, 95, 98, 136, 186, 190; Great Palace in, 208, 211, 242; hippodrome of, 207, 211; Muslim quarter and mosques in, 97; as “New Rome,” 124; pagan survivals in, 133, 207; Pera in, 104, 105; sack of, in 1204 by the Latins, 53, 68, 75, 77, 97, 104. See also Byzantium; Greece; Patriarchate of Constantinople; Orthodox Church Constantius II, Emperor, 125 Constitutio Antoniniana, 74 Conversion/converts to Christianity, 120, 194; as an elusive and fluid process, 196 – 197, 202, 233, 239; idiosyncratic conversions, 236;

324

Index

Conversion/converts (cont’d ) oscillation between paganism and Christianity, 233 – 234, 239 – 240; pagan conscious survivals after conversion, 194, 197, 203. See also Christianity; Orthodox Church; Paganism Copernican system/worldview, 69, 177 Corfu, 52, 78, 88, 89, 127, 172, 173, 215, 248; under Venetian rule, 54 Corinth, 48, 49, 50, 51, 83, 84, 91, 129, 137, 205, 216; Corinthian columns, 221; “Fountain of the Lamps,” in, 205 – 206; problems among early Christians in, 198 – 199 Corydalleus, Theophilos, 172 Coubertin, Pierre de, 46 Creed, Nicene-Constantinopolitan, 67. See also Ecumenical Councils Cremonini, Cesare, 172 Crete, 12, 50, 51, 53, 57, 92, 93, 110, 229; Orthodox Church of, 57, 62; under Venetian rule, 54, 62, 104; Western religious influences on, 104 Creto-Mycenaean demons, 229 Cristofano dell’Altissimo (di Papi), 245 Crusade, Fourth, 68; Crusaders, 75, 97; Crusades, 97. See also Anti-Westernism; Roman Catholic Church; Western Christianity; Western Europe Crusius, Martin, 170 Cybele/Magna Mater, 22 Cycladic Islands/Cyclades, 56, 104, 105 Cynic philosophy, 215, 236 Cyprus, 12, 83, 102 Cyrene, 239 Cyril, 52 Cyzicos, 130, 164 Damascius, 153, 238 Damascus, 95 Damaskinos, Papandreou, Archbishop, 59, 89, 184 Damianus, Paraskevas, 215 Danforth, Loring, 226 Daniel of Moschopolis, 251; Introductory Teaching, 251 Danubian Principalities, 75, 216, 250. See also Phanariotes Dapontes, Konstantinos-Kaisarios, 174; Mirror of Women, 174 “Dark Age” Greece, 19 – 20

Death rituals, Byzantine and ancient Greek, 167 Decalogue, 144 Delos, 20, 28, 83, 202; sanctuary of Apollo on, 28 Delphi, 20, 21, 44, 126, 132, 138, 139, 149, 202, 205, 211, 262, 262; Altar of the Chians at, 126; Gymnasium at, 139; sanctuary/temple of Apollo at, 21, 28, 29, 126, 204, 205; Treasury of the Siphnians at, 126. See also Apollo; Pythian Games in Delphi Delphic feasts/festivals, 149, 262 – 263; “Delphic Idea,” 263; Delphic ideal, 149; Delphic University, 262; Museum of, 263; syncretism, 263; and unity of Greek history, 263. See also Pythian Games; Sikelianos, Angelos Demes, 38 Demeter, 32; sanctuary of, in Corinth, 198 Demetrios, despot, 247 Demetrios, Saint, 52 Democritus, 35, 140 Demosthenes, 131, 209, 255, 258 Dennis, George T., 167 Dervish, 95 Despotate of Epirus, 53 Despotate of Morea, 53, 54 Dhimma system, 93 Diaspora, Greek, 9, 12; Council for Hellenes Abroad, 191; modern, 190 – 191 Diaspora, Jewish, 82, 84 Dikaios, Grigorios (Papaphlessas), 56 Diocletian, Emperor, 51 Diogenes, 215 Dion, 27 Dionysios of Phourna, 176 Dionysius, Bishop, 50 Dionysius the Areopagite, 50, 119 Dionysius the Areopagite (Pseudo-), 67, 162 – 163; as “Christian Proclus,” 163; Mystical Theology, 163; On the Divine Names, 163. See also Neoplatonism Dionysus, 19, 46, 63, 159, 167, 208, 210, 211, 212, 240; and Agaue, 210; and Bacchae, 210; Bacchic poetry in Ottoman times, 216; and the Byzantine poem Christus Patiens, 210; Dionysiac/Bacchic cult/rites, 22, 32, 63, 159, 208, 212, 226, 227; Dionysiac visual art, 211; parallels to Jesus’s worship, 159, 167, 210, 211. See also Nonnus; Paganism Directorate of Byzantine Antiquities, 274

Index 325 Dodecanese Islands, 57 Dodona, 20, 202 Dodwell, Edward, 139; Views and Descriptions of Cyclopian, or, Pelasgic Remains in Greece and Italy, 139 Dönmeh (crypto-Jews), 86 Dominican monks, 105 Doric: design, 147; proverb, 152; style, 222; temples, 20 Dorotheos (Pseudo-), 174; Historical Book, 174 Doukas, Neophytos, 254 – 255 Dragoumis, Ion, 259 Droysen, Johann Gustav, 37 Drymos (Elasson), 228 Dualist movements in Byzantium, 103 Dušan, Stephen, Czar, 53 East, 10, 19, 20, 67, 68, 73, 74, 75, 77, 98, 105, 124, 156; Middle, 93; Near, 19, 22, 93, 94; Orthodox, 69, 70, 71, 106, 170, 218. See also Roman Catholic Church; Western Christianity; Western Europe East Roman Empire, 10, 47, 51, 78. See also Byzantium; West Roman Empire Eastern Bloc, 59, 183 “Eastern Question,” 79, 260 Ecclesia/assembly, 159, 197; Ecclesiology, 66 Ecumenical Councils, 67: First, 51; Fifth, 134; Sixth, 51 – 52; of Chalcedon (Fourth), 102; Seventh, 84 Egypt, 10, 22, 37, 83, 167, 181; Ptolemaic, 22 Eirene, 28 Eleftherios, Saint, church of, 54, 128, 129, 161. See also Panagia Gorgoepikoos, church of Eleusis, 32, 33, 202; Eleusinian mysteries, 22, 32, 33; Eleusis Pan Cave, 205 Elgin Marbles, 43 Elias, Prophet, 99; church of, 176 Elisha, the Jew, 246; Plethon’s teacher, 246 Embedocles, 190 England, 42, 56 Enlightenment, 43, 46, 55, 72, 76, 138, 140, 214, 249, 253 Enlightenment, Neo-Hellenic, 55, 172, 173, 174, 176, 177; church reactions against, 177; on Hellenic tradition and Greek Antiquity, 173, 215 – 216. See also Orthodox Church, under Ottoman rule En(n)odia, 27

Eordaia, 149 Epaminondas, 216 Eparchus, Antonios, 248, 249; “Lament on the Destruction of Greece,” 248 Ephesus, 48, 134 Epictetus, 122 Epicurean philosophers, 36, 118, 158 Epidaurus, 30, 187; Classical Drama Festival at, 187; National Assembly at, 57 “Epigraphic Bulletin for Greek Religion” of the review Kernos, 202 Epimenides, 157 Epiphanios, Bishop, 102, 166; Refutation of All the Heresies, 102 Epirus, 20, 50, 51, 53, 57, 122, 176; south, 56 Erasmus, Desiderius, 170, 171; De recta Latini Graecique sermonis pronunciatione, 170; Greek reactions against his linguistic theory, 171 Erechtheion, temple of, 127, 222; as church of the Mother of God, 127 Euboea, 56 Euchaita, 230 Eucharist, Christian, 63, 64, 160, 167, 198; Lord’s Supper, 197 Eugenianos, Niketas, 210 – 211 Eunomios, 130 Europe, 38, 49, 54; Central, 85; Christian, 94; Eastern, 65, 183; Eastern and Central, 9, 52; South Eastern, 73, 100, 183. See also Byzantium; Western Europe Europe, idea of, 79; Byzantium’s role in, 79 – 80; Carolingian dynasty’s role in, 79 – 80; Hellenism and Christianity related to, 79; Turks in, 79 European Court for Human Rights, 108 European history of religions, 45 European Inter-parliamentary Assembly on Orthodoxy, 60 European Union, 59, 108, 274 Euripides, 36, 209, 255 Eusebius of Caesarea, 40, 65, 123, 124, 166, 236 Eustathios, Archbishop, 52, 165, 166; commentaries on Homer, Pindar, and Aristophanes, 165; On the Improvement of Monastic Life, 165 Eustathios Sevastenos, 162 Eustratios, Bishop, 135 Evangelicals, 108; Greek Evangelical Church, 107; Panhellenic Evangelical Alliance, 108.

326

Index

Evangelicals (cont’d ) See also Orthodox Church, in modern Greece; Protestantism Eve, 143 Evrytania, 53 Extreme Right in modern Greece, 9; complete Hellenization and De-Judaization of the Orthodox Church, 91, 268; connections with anti-Romeic Hellenocentrists, 145, 268 – 269. See also Anti-Romeic Hellenocentrists; Anti-Semitism; Nationalism Fallmerayer, Jakob Philipp, 179, 224; Geschichte der Halbinsel Morea während des Mittelalters, 179 Fascism, Italian, 89 Fassianos, Alekos, 265 Fermor, Patrick Leigh, 151 Ferrara-Florence, Council of, 69, 247 Florence, 169, 245; Galleria degli Uffici in, 145 Florina, 149 Florovsky, Georges, 185; on “Christian Hellenism,” 186. See also “Christian Hellenism;” Church Fathers Folklore studies in Greece, 143 Fourakis, Ioannis, 268 France, 88; French travellers to Ottoman and modern Greece, 45, 218 Franks, 65, 74, 79, 97; Frankish seigneuries in Byzantine Greece, 53, 104; seen by the Arabs, 97; theologians, 67 Freeman, Edward A., 79 Freemasonry, 92; alleged pagan origins, 226 French Revolution, 43, 55, 108, 138, 251, 252 Gadara, 243 Gaertner, Friedrich Wilhelm von, 221 Gaia, 27 Galatia, 8 Galen, 121, 176 Galerius, Emperor, 124, 274 “Galilaeans,” 132. See also Julian, Emperor Gamelia/Theogamia, feast of the, 148 Gaul, southern, 10, Geertz, Clifford, 6 Genesios, Joseph, 206 Geneva, 171 Gennadios, Metropolitan, 89 Gentiles, 118, 267. See also Paganism Geometric period, 19 – 20

George I, King, 57, 180 George of Kromni (Kurum), Saint, 232 George of Trebizond, 97 George the Hagiorite, 104 Georgia, 104 Georgios Negadon, Agios, church of, 176 Germanos, Metropolitan, 150 Germany, 44, 46, 111, 215 Gibbon, Edward, 78, 253; History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, 78 Gibraltar, 87 Gideon, 144 Gladstone, William F., 79 Glykas, Michael, 52 Gnostic religions, 103, 121; Gnosticism, 196 God’s Wisdom, church of, 127 Goethe, 46 Gortyna, 50, 51, 52 “Gospel riots,” 59 Great Britain, 106 Greco-Roman: paganism, 159, 160; plurality, 193, 270; tradition, 80. See also Christianity; Hellenic religion; Paganism; Roman Empire Greco-Turkish war of 1919 – 22, 89 Greece and Hellas, terminological issues, 5 – 6, 7 – 8, 10, 12, 254 Greece, ancient: middle of, 12; Neolithic, 19; Roman, 18, 23, 49, 118 Greece, modern: anti-Communist propaganda in, 58, 183, 264; de-Ottomanization, 99; gradual liberalization of, 108, 256 – 257; Greek citizenship in, 107; independent through the London Protocol, 56; modernization as re-Hellenization, 266; Orthodox Christian character of, 1 – 2, 46, 49, 72, 79, 106 – 107, 148, 180, 219 – 220, 256; positive towards its Ottoman past, 100; religious and cultural antinomies in, 76; religious and national homogenization of, 96, 106 – 107; and Turkey, 99 – 100. See also Byzantium; Greek Antiquity; Greek continuity; Orthodox Church; Orthodoxy; Western Europe Greek Anthology (or Palatine Anthology), 242, 243; pagan and Christian elements in, 243 Greek Antiquity, 17, 19, 35, 36, 41, 42, 43, 45, 46, 72, 80, 136, 137, 139, 140, 143, 151, 169, 209 – 213; admiration for, in Byzantium, 244; archaists/archaeomania in Ottoman times, 254 – 256; Exhibition “Classical Memories in Modern Greek Art,” 220; its official, non-

Index 327 religious upgrading in modern Greece, 18, 76, 99, 140, 141, 177 – 178, 181, 219 – 220, 256; in the Ottoman period, 169, 170, 250, 251, 253 – 254, 258; Western debt to Greek antiquity, 255 – 256. See also Greek culture; Hellenic tradition/heritage; Hellenism; Western Europe/West Greek athletic tradition, ancient, 143; revival in modern Greece, 143 Greek civilization, ancient, 19, 49. See also Hellenic civilization Greek constitutions: of 1844, 57, 177; of 1864, 57; of 1952, 180; of 1975, 108 Greek continuity (historical, ethnic, cultural, religious), 72, 154, 169, 170, 250, 261, 264; continuity in the Greek musical tradition, 263, 265; the older “survival approach” in ethnography, 224; popular religion’s role in proving, 223 – 225; revised modern views on Greek continuity and survivals, 224 – 225; role of Greek language in, 253, 255; seen by the Neo-Orthodox thinkers, 265 – 266; the “synthesis mode” in modern Greece, 154, 178 – 180, 181, 183; Western views of a discontinuity, 170, 171, 179. See also Greece, modern; Hellenism and Christianity; Helleno-Christianity; Orthodox Church; Romeic Hellenism Greek culture: ancient, 13, 36, 39, 42, 48, 120, 153; ancient, in Byzantium, 10, 74, 94, 163, 244; ancient, and Hellenic religion, 213; “disemie” and cultural antinomies in modern Greece, 151; Hellenization in antiquity, 10; modern, and Orthodox Christianity, 60; popular culture and Hellenic elements/ religion under Ottoman rule, 73, 75, 170, 216 – 217. See also Hellenic culture; Hellenic tradition/heritage Greek ethnicity/nationality, 15, 249 – 250, 254; Greek national identity, 138; and Orthodox Christianity, 60, 72; symbolic significance of ancient Greek monuments and archaeological research in modern Greece for, 178, 221, 258. See also Greek identity; Greece, modern; Hellenic identity; Hellenicity/ Greekness; Helleno-Christianity; Nationalism; Irredentism; Monuments, ancient Greek; Western Europe Greek hatred, 42 Greek heritage, 74, 94; Orthodox Greeks vs.

West Europeans as better custodians of, 170, 255 – 256. See also Byzantium; Orthodox Church; Western Europe Greek history: antinomies in, 12 – 13, 143; construction of a “single Greece,” 143; general periodization of, 3 – 4, 113; Greek historicism in modern Greece, 179 – 180; and Orthodox Christianity, 72. See also Byzantium; Greek Antiquity; Greece, modern; Hellenic ancestry; Orthodox Church; Western Europe Greek identity/identities, 13, 38, 128, 249, 249, 258; effective coping with multiple identities, religious cultures and their antinomies, 151, 195, 219, 223, 228 – 229, 273, 275. See also Byzantines; Greek ethnicity; Greeks, modern; Hellenes; Hellenic identity; Hellenicity/ Greekness; Hellenism and Christianity; Helleno-Christianity; Romeic Hellenism; Western Europe Greek language: among Jews, 83; ancient Greek in Byzantium, 10, 74, 75, 77, 136, 163, 164, 165, 168, 185, 209; ancient Greek and Christianity, 73; church in favor of ancient Greek and resisting language reforms, 171, 185; early forms of, 19; of great value to non-ethnic Greeks in Ottoman times, 251; Koine Greek, 83, 185; polytonic vs. monotonic orthographic variant, 185; pronunciation of ancient Greek, 170 – 171; Romeic/ modern Greek in Ottoman times, 169, 170, 172, 185, 251; spread of the ancient, 10, 22, 23, 40, 42, 48, 156, 157, 170; Sunday Gospel’s attempted reform, 185; teaching/knowledge of ancient Greek in the West, 74, 169, 170, 171, 217; use of antiquated Greek in Ottoman times, 171, 174, 254; vernacular, 170, 171. See also Bible; Greek continuity; Greek culture; Greek literature, ancient; Hellenic culture; Hellenic education; Orthodox Church; Western Europe Greek literature, ancient: in Byzantium, 161, 165, 168, 209 – 210, 242; and Hellenic religion, 209 – 210, 242 – 243; in Ottoman times, 169, 172, 173. See also Greek culture; Greek language; Hellenic education; Hellenic tradition/heritage Greek motifs, ancient, 43, 54 Greek mythology, 27, 143, 149, 169; in Christian settings, 194, 210; disseminated by Christians under Ottoman rule, 217; taught

328 Index Greek mythology (cont’d ) at the University of Athens, 224. See also Hellenic religion; Paganism; Renaissance; Western Europe Greek philosophy, ancient, 20, 34, 35 – 36, 42, 73, 119, 120, 135, 157, 157, 189, 244; and Byzantine philosophy, 188 – 189; its devaluation by Christian Apologists, 158 – 159; Greek philosophers as plagiarists of Jewish traditions, 158 – 159, 236; influence on Christian theological vocabulary, 161; metaphysics and logic, 42, 94; Pre-Socratic philosophers, 20, 35; selectively used by Christians, 153, 163, 164. See also Hellenic education; Hellenic tradition/heritage; Orthodox Church; Western Europe Greek polis, 18, 24 – 25, 38 – 39 Greek sages painted in churches, 175 – 176; in modern Greek hagiography, 190. See also “Christian Hellenism;” Helleno-Christianity; “Humanism, Orthodox Christian” Greek science: against the intrusion of modern scientific ideas from Western Europe, 171; ancient, 20, 35, 42, 94; role of the church in teaching science in Ottoman times, 172. See also Orthodox Church, under Ottoman rule Greek War of Independence, 44, 56, 57, 87, 95, 105, 138, 141, 176, 178, 216, 221, 258; ancient Greece as a factor in the, 141, 216; celebration of, in modern Greece, 95 – 96; fiftieth anniversary of, 180; Greek insurrection in the Danubian Principalities, 216; Orthodox clerics in the, 56. See also Greece, modern; Orthodox Church “Greeks, heretical,” as viewed by the West, 77 Greeks, modern: believing and practicing Orthodoxy, 192; their critique of the Western reception of Greek Antiquity, 46 – 47; as New Romans, 75; as Orthodox Christians, 107; various designations of, 75 – 76. See also Greece, modern; Orthodox Church; Western Europe Gregoras, Nikephoros, 165, 230 Gregory I, Pope, 73 Gregory V, Patriarch, 56, 141, 177; executed by the Turks, 56, 87; statue outside the main building of the University of Athens, 180, 252; transportation of his remains to Athens, 180

Gregory XIII, Pope, 105 Gregory of Nazianzus, 130, 131, 132, 161 – 162, 181, 210, 238, 244, 255; “the new Demosthenes,” 161 Gregory of Nyssa, 130; Life of Moses, 162 Gregory Palamas, Archbishop, 97, 165, 166, 266; Defense of the Holy Hesychasts, 165; on Greek philosophy, 165 Guys, Pierre-Augustin, 218 Hades, 27 Hadrian, Emperor, 50 Halle, 171 Hansen, Hans Christian, 221 Hansen, Theophil Edvard, 221 Harmodion, 216 Harnack, Adolf von, 161; on the “Hellenization of Christianity,” 161 Healing cults, pagan and Christian, 167 – 168. See also Hellenic religion; Paganism Heideck, Karl Wilhelm von, 258 – 259 Helen, Saint, feast of, 225 – 226 Helicon, 248 Helladius, Alexander, 70 – 71, 171, 214 – 215, 216 – 217 Hellas, 5. See also Greece and Hellas Hellenes, 39; distinguished from Greeks, 74; as “pagans” in the Christian vocabulary, 40, 129, 131, 206; as pagans in Ottoman Greece, 174; positive meaning of the term in Late Byzantium, 74 – 75, 135 – 136, 168, 203, 246;versus barbarians, 37 – 38, 215. See also Byzantines; “Christian Hellenism”; Greek continuity; Greeks, modern; Hellenism and Christianity; Romeic Hellenism Hellenic ancestry, 74; Byzantines as descendants of the Hellenes, 136, 168; modern Greeks connected with Greek antiquity, 174; sense of, in Ottoman times, 215, 246. See also Byzantines; Greek continuity; Greeks, modern; Hellenes; Romeic Hellenism Hellenic civilization, 47, 145. See also Greek civilization, ancient Hellenic culture, 40, 41, 91, 131, 145, 146, 156, 161, 162, 164, 203; and Christianity, 73, 152; spread of, 22. See also Greek culture Hellenic education/learning/paideia, 73, 74, 75, 138, 156, 162, 165. See also Greek literature, ancient; Hellenic tradition/heritage Hellenic identity/identities, 17, 18, 21, 36, 39,

Index 329 151, 241, 264; at the detriment of Christianity, 259, 263 – 264; and Hellenic religion, 36 – 37; and kinship, 39; in Late Byzantium, 74 – 75, 168, 213, 246; multiple identities, 275. See also Greek identity; Greek continuity; Greek ethnicity/nationality; Hellenicity/ Greekness; Romeic Hellenism Hellenic religion, 4, 15, 48, 120, 131, 217, 229; adaptive potential and flexibility, 22, 23, 27, 154, 193; artistic creation and, 30; in Athens, 12, 21, 32, 38, 40, 128; civic character, 197; critique of, 35 – 36; cult centers in, 20; cult of the dead in, 28; deities and divinities in, 26 – 28, 30 – 31, 40, 217, 248; divination, 33, 36; Greek terms used for, 25; individualization of, 22; interest in the afterlife, 22, 28; limits and prohibitions in, 29, 40; Minoan and Mycenaean background, 19; myths/ beliefs/theology, 20, 25, 29, 33 – 34, 165; Neopagan view of it in modern Greece, 146 – 147; pan-Hellenic aspects, 20, 21, 24, 27, 28, 37 – 38, 204; pantheon/of twelve Olympian deities, 20 – 21, 40, 120, 146, 158, 206, 217; polis religion, 18, 22, 23, 24 – 25, 27, 32; priests/priestesses, 32; ritual and practice in, 25 – 26, 31 – 33; relation to Hellenism, 8, 36 – 37; relation between rituals and myths, 34 – 35; recognition of Hellenic religion by Greek courts, 147 – 148; sacrifice in, 17, 32; syncretism in, 37, 39; temples, 20; tolerance and inclusivity, 23, 28, 29, 36, 39, 40, 154, 193; transmission of knowledge in, 35; understanding of antique religion, 24 – 25; various forms and plurality of, 17, 28, 29, 39. See also Christianity; Hellenism; Hellenic tradition/heritage; Orthodox Church; Paganism; Polytheism Hellenic revival: in Byzantium, 135, 164, 203; and church reactions fearing Neopaganism, 138 – 141, 220; in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries under Western influence, 138, 139, 140, 141, 169, 214, 253 – 255; in modern Greece, 141 – 143, 177 – 178, 220. See also Hellenic tradition/heritage; Hellenicity/ Greekness; Hellenism; Humanism, First Byzantine Hellenic tradition/heritage, 13, 41, 42, 46, 47, 74, 75, 90, 91, 132, 136, 137, 144, 146, 150, 156, 160, 170, 254; changing church appropriation of the Hellenic tradition in modern

Greece, 186 – 188; and Christianity, 73; its “correct use” by Christians, 160; as part of the diachronic Greek collective memory, 194, 203, 273; pervasive presence in Byzantium, 194, 203, 209 – 213, 246; survival in a Christian era, 194; under Ottoman rule and Hellenic religion, 169, 216 – 217; worldwide appreciation of, 42. See also Greek continuity; Hellenicity/Greekness; Hellenism; Orthodox Church; Western Europe Hellenicity/Greekness: in antiquity, 17, 36; construction of, 15; in Hellenistic times, 39, 83; in modern Greece, 58, 264 – 266; Orthodoxy and, 58, 60, 177, 264; pan-Hellenic aspects, 37 – 38; role of religion in, 17; secular notion of, 9, 264; under Ottoman rule, 214. See also Greek continuity; Hellenism; Orthodox Church Hellenism: as an accusation and cause of condemnation in Byzantium, 134 – 136; in Byzantium, 13; in Hellenistic times, 39; individual and independent dealings with it in modern Greece, 156, 259; as an integral, indissoluble whole, 41, 132, 272 – 273; in modern Greece, 143; notion of, 7, 8, 36 – 37, 47; secular conceptualizations of, 9; systematic Christian selection from, 40 – 41, 132, 136, 137, 148, 152, 153, 156; unity of, 37. See also Hellenic religion; Hellenicity/Greekness; Orthodox Church; Paganism Hellenism and Christianity: antinomical relations, 13; asymmetrical relations, 115, 153 – 155, 193; coexistence and intermingling between, 192 – 229; connections between, 58, 73, 79, 92, 143, 229, 275; differences, 49, 72, 151, 275; ideological use of, 116; modes of interaction, 3, 4, 5, 7, 113 – 116, 151; opposition and confrontation between, 117 – 151, 152; personal, individual, elitist and particular dictates about, 230 – 269; selection and integration, 152 – 191. See also Greek history; Hellenicity/Greekness Hellenist, 8, Hellenistic: cosmopolitanism, 39; moral rhetoric, 197; religions, 22, 23, 30. See also Greek culture; Hellenic culture; Hellenic religion; Hellenic tradition/heritage; Paganism Helleno-Christianity (in modern Greece): construction of, 178 – 180; criticized by various circles in modern Greece, 144, 148,

330 Index Helleno-Christianity (cont’d ) 190, 257, 263, 264, 267; “Helleno-Christian Civilization,” 180, 182, 228, 264, 275; Helleno-Christian synthesis, 143, 182, 222; ideology of, 9, 91, 180 – 181; messianic role of Orthodox Christian Greeks because of, 260; modern Greek diaspora and, 190 – 191; as a necessity to overcome antinomies and to integrate various strands of tradition, 148, 223, 252; political instrumentalization of, 183; promoted by the Orthodox Church, 183 – 188; promoted by politicians, 180 – 182; regeneration of “Christian Hellenism,” 260; supported by Orthodox clerics and theologians, 189 – 190. See also “Christian Hellenism”; Greece, modern; Greek continuity; “Humanism, Orthodox Christian” Henotheism, 26. See also Megatheism; Monotheism, pagan Henry VIII, King, 215 Hephaestos, 127. See also Theseion Hera, 19, 148; temple of (Heraion), on Samos, 20, 28, 127, 128 Heracleia, 51 Heracles, 28 Heraclitus, 35, 266; as “Christian before Christ,” 157 Heraclius, Emperor, 73, 84 Hercules, 144, 222 Heresy, 102, 134; burning of heretics in Byzantium, 103. See also Orthodox Church; Orthodoxy Hermes, 19, 27, 140, 167; on the first Greek postage stamp, 149, 150, 220; as symbol of the Greek Postal Service, 149, 150 Hermes Trismegistos, Egyptian priest, 46 Hermeticism, 46; Hermetic philosophy, 160 Herodotus, 17, 20, 36, 37, 40, 209 Herzfeld, Michael, 151 Hesiod, 20 Hestia, 27 Hesychast controversies, 53, 135, 165 Heterodoxy, 103 Hierocles, 123 Hill, John-Henry, 107 Himerius, 210 Hippolytos, 27 Holy Spirit: Pentecost, 131; Pneumatology, 66, 161; Filioque, 67 – 68. See also Trinity, doctrine of

Homer, 20, 37, 42, 45, 131, 165, 176, 209, 214, 217; Iliad and Odyssey, 165, 232 Horace, 41 Horus, 167 Hulsether, Mark, 6 Humanism, First Byzantine, 135 Humanism in the West, 42, 105, 169, 214, 249 “Humanism, Orthodox Christian” (in Ottoman times), 169, 249. See also “Christian Hellenism;” Helleno-Christianity Humbert de Silva Candida, Cardinal, 68 Hybridity, 196 Hygieia, 28 Hypatia, 126, 240 Iamblichus, 153, 197; and “theurgical divination,” 153 – 154 Iconoclasm, Byzantine, 134, 135, 166; Islamic influence on, 97 Icons, 167; icon veneration, 67, 134, 163, 207; sceptical views on images in Christianity, 166 Idaion Cave, 229 Ignatios, Patriarch, 164 Ikaria, 127 Illus and his pagan revolt, 204 Illyricum, 49; Eastern, 104; Eastern and Western part, 51 Incubation, pagan and Christian, 167 – 168 India, 10, 22 Individual religion and religious authorities, 231 – 232, 233 Indo-Europeans, 146 Intolerance: Christian, 90, 108, 126; limits of, 128. See also Christianity; Orthodox Church; Orthodoxy; Paganism; Religious plurality Ioannina, 84, 176 Ionia, 28; Ionian design, 147 Ionian Academy, 78 Ionian Islands, 12, 56; under Venetian rule, 62, 104; Western religious influences on, 104 Irene, Saint, church of (Athens), 222 Irredentism, Greek, 143, 180. See also Greece, modern; Nationalism, modern Greek Isaakios II Angelos, Emperor, 97 Isis, 22, 27, 167, 201; temple of, in Corinth, 198 Islam: animal sacrifice in, 99; and Byzantium/ the Byzantines, 93, 94, 95, 97, 98; and

Index 331 Christians, 93; converts to, 97; and Europe, 93; tolerance in, 93 Islam and Christianity: Christian apocalyptic literature against Islam, 95; Christian converts to Islam/Islamization, 95, 99; CryptoChristianity, 95; dialogue between, 100; Orthodox Christians/Orthodoxy and, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 163; popular religion between, 219; syncretism between, 99, 219. See also Orthodox Church Islam and Hellenism, 93, 94; and ancient Greek language/culture, 94 Islam and Judaism, 93 Islam in Greece, 2, 3, 7, 15, 76, 81, 86, 92, 101, 111, 270; Greek Muslims, 96; mosques, 2, 96, 97, 110, 274; monuments of, 100; Muslim minority in Western Thrace, 2, 96; “new Islam,” 96; “old Islam,” 96. See also Greece, modern; Religious plurality Islamic: civilization, 94; philosophy, 94 Islamophobia, 96 Isocrates, 39, 209 Isthmia/Isthmus of Corinth, 20, 21, 204, 205; Isthmian Games, 21 Israel, state of, 92 Italians, 74 Italos, John, 135, 243 Italy, 41, 57, 137, 170, 172, 247, 248; southern, 10, 12 Janissary levy, 95 Jassy, 10, 250 Jehovah’s Witnesses, 92, 108 Jerusalem, 75, 93, 98, 117, 174, 181, 266 Jesse, tree of, 176 Jesuits, 105 Jesus Christ, 48, 63, 67, 68, 120, 123, 134, 149, 156, 157, 158, 159, 163, 166, 167, 174, 176, 184, 190, 229, 230, 257, 260, 266, 267; Ascension, feast of the, 229; Christmas, 159, 227; Christological debates, 134; Christology, 66, 102, 161, 239; death as the last of human sacrifices, 198; Easter, 227; Incarnation of, 176; prefigurations of, 210; re-enactment of his death on Good Friday, 194; Second Coming of, 168, 173; Transfiguration of, feast of the, 219. See also Logos Jewish: law, 155; religion, 63; mysticism, 86 Jewish Biblical heroes, 144. See also Bible/ Biblical texts

Jews and Greeks, relations between, 82 – 83; Hellenization of Jews, 83, 84, 90, 267; Jews in the Greek resistance, 89. See also Jews in Greece Jews and Romans, 82, 121; Jewish revolts against the Romans, 83; Jews in the Roman Empire, 84 Jews in Byzantium, 84 – 85, 102, 126 Jews in Greece, 9, 84, 87 – 89, 270; in ancient Athens, 118; in ancient Greece, 50, 82 – 83; Central Jewish Council, 89; church assistance to, in escaping the Nazis, 89; Holocaust memorials, 89; monuments in, 100; in Ottoman times, 85 – 87; ritual of Judas effigy burning, 88; synagogues in Greece, 83, 85; in Thessalonica, 2, 85 – 86, 88, 89; under Nazi occupation, 89. See also Anti-Judaism; Anti-Semitism; Ashkenazi Jews, Romaniote Jews; Sephardic Jews Jews in Palestine, 84 John IV the Faster, Patriarch, 73 John VI Cantacuzenos, Emperor, 95, 97 John, author of the Book of Revelation, 50; Orthodox interpretations of this book, 92 John Chrysostom, 79, 133, 140, 145, 181, 182; his anti-Jewish critique, 85; his critique of theater and pagan survivals in Constantinople, 13, 187, 207 John of Damascus, 95, 163, 164, 208; his Fount of Knowledge, Dialectics, and Exact Exposition of the Orthodox Faith, 163 – 164 John of Ephesus, 134 John the Theologian, Saint, monastery of, 53, 127 Josephus, Flavius, 83, 90 Jovianus, 127 Judaism, 2, 3, 7, 15, 26, 81, 101, 111, 122; Holocaust Memorial in Thessalonica, 2; Jewish Museum in Athens, 2. See also Jews in Greece Judaism and Christianity, 82, 84 – 85, 159, 196; Christianity as a Jewish religion opposed to Hellenism, 90 – 91, 268 – 269; Judaizing Christians, 85; opposition between, 90 – 92, 119; Orthodox Christian-Jewish dialogue, 92; the Quartodecimans, 85. See also AntiJudaism; Anti-Semitism; Jews in Byzantium Judaism and Hellenism, 82; conflict-laden as well as productive encounters, 90; conspiracy theories regarding the Jewish control

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Judaism and Hellenism (cont’d ) of the world, 91 – 92, 268; critique of the Old Testament as an anti-Hellenic book, 91, 143 – 144, 146, 268, 269; Judaism against Hellenicity/Greekness, 90, 146, 268 – 269; the role of both in Western civilization, 90. See also Anti-Semitism; Anti-Romeic Hellenocentrists; Jews and Greeks; Jews in Greece; Neopagans Julian, Emperor, 8, 41, 90, 125, 131 – 132, 133, 137, 142, 153, 162, 174, 204, 210, 247, 257, 273; “new Julians” in modern Greece, 149 Julian the Theurgist, 244 Justin the Martyr, 157, 210; Dialogue with the Jew Tryphon, 157; First Apology, 157; on the “seminal word,” 157, 158 Justinian I, Emperor, 73, 77, 84, 133 – 134, 206, 210, 241, 242; Codex Iustinianus, 134 Juvenal, 137 Kabakes, Demetrios Raoul (Ralles), 137 Kabbalah, 86 Kaftantzoglou, Lysandros, 221 Kairis, Theophilos, 108, 178; on Theosebism, 108 Kaldellis, Anthony, 241 Kallioupolitis, Maximos, 171 Kalopothakis, Michalis, 107 Kamariotis, Matthaios, 137 Kangellarios, Alexandros, 174. See also Rollin, Charles Kantiotis, Augustinos, Metropolitan, 149, 150; critique of all Hellenic elements in modern Greece, 149 – 150; his messianic vision for Greece, 267 Kapodistrias, Ioannis, 141 – 142 Karamanlis, Konstantinos, 181 Kastoria, 88 Kastri, 139 Katartzis, Dimitrios, 250 Katerini, 108, 148 Kavala, 88 Kavasilas Chamaetos, Nikolaos, 52 Kazantzakis, Nikos, 257 – 258; internationally promoted by the state, 257 – 258; Julian the Apostate, 257; problems with the church, 257; Zorba the Greek, 257 KEFE (Center of Applied Philosophy), 110; Scientology in Greece, 110 Kephalas, Nektarios, Saint, 2

Keroullarios, Michael I, Patriarch, 68, 135, 244 King, Jonas, 107, 178; American consul to Greece, 107; his Evangelical Gymnasium, 107 Kitros and Katerini, Metropolitan of, 148 Kleanthis, Stamatis, 221 Klenze, Leo von, 221 Knossos, 50 Kolokotronis, Theodoros, 176; on Greek historical and religious evolution, 176 Kontoglous, Fotis, 190 Koraïs, Adamantios, 138, 171, 180, 215 – 216, 252 – 254; his admiration for Greek Antiquity, 253 – 254; church reactions against, 142, 253 Kore, sanctuary of, in Corinth, 198 Kos, 32 Kosmas the Aetolian, 87, 174, 175; his antiJewish critique, 87, 174 – 175; his evaluation of Greek education, 174 Kosti, 192 Kotiaion, 126 Koumanoudis, Stephanos, 142 Kozani, 228 Kritopoulos, Metrophanes, Patriarch 170 Kydones, Demetrios, 105 Kydonies, 141 Kyrillos VI, Patriarch, 254 Kyros, 126 Kythairon, Mount, 53 Lakedaimon, 51 Lakonia, 175 Langadas, 225; Metropolitan of, 226 Larissa, 55, 212 Laskaratos, Andreas, 257 Late Antiquity: East-West-divergence since, 71; Hellenism/Hellenic religion in, 8, 36, 37; paganism in, 8, 26, 40, 124, 153, 270; religious pluralism in, 270. See also Byzantium; East; Hellenic religion; Orthodox Church; Orthodoxy; Paganism; Polytheism; Religious plurality; Roman Empire Latin language, 43, 73, 74, 77, 105, 170 Latins, 74, 75, 98. See also Roman Catholic Church; Western Christians Latium, 41 Lausanne, Treaty of, 96 Lefkas, 255 Leichudis, Sophronios and Ioannikios, 186

Index 333 Leipzig, 86 Lemnos, 219; ceremony of the “Sacred Earth” on, 219 Lent, 227 Leo I, Emperor, 204 Leo III, Emperor, 51, 84 Leo III, Pope, 77 Leo VI the Wise, Emperor, 104 Leo Choirosphaktes, 135 Leo the Mathematician or the Philosopher, 135 Leonidas, 216, 258 Leontios, 204 Lesvos, 225; festival of the Bull in Agia Paraskevi, 225 Levadeia, 53 Levant, 106; Levantine region, 43 Leucippus, 35 Libanius, 133; Pro templis, 133 Licinius, Emperor, 124 “Little Cathedral” (Athens), 54, 128; as a “synthesis” between Hellenism and Christianity, 169, 184. See also Eleftherios, Saint; Panagia Gorgoepikoos Liturgy, 159 – 160 Livadia, 104 Logos, incarnate/divine, 156, 157, 158. See also Jesus Christ London, 79, 100; British Museum in, 43 Loukaris, Cyril, Patriarch, 105 Loukas, Hosios, monastery of, 53 Ludwig I, King, 56 Lucian of Samosata, 122, 139, 197, 236 – 237; as critic of Christianity, 236 – 237; The Death of Peregrinus, 122, 236 – 237 Luke, the Evangelist, 49 Lutheran theologians, 106. See also Protestantism/Protestants Lydus, John, 241 – 242; On the Months, 241; On Portents, 241; On the Magistracies, 241 Lykosoura, 202 Maccabean revolt, 83 Macedonia, 12, 22, 49, 51, 57, 103, 227; Eastern, 100; “Macedonian Question,” 274 Macedonians, 21 MacMullen, Ramsay, 115 Macrina, 131 Makraios, Sergios, 87, 177; his anti-Jewish critique, 87

Makrakis, Apostolos, 108, 259 – 260; against the Olympic Games, 150 Makrembolites, Eustathios, 210 Makriyiannis, Yiannis, 258 – 259; Memoirs, 258 – 259; Visions and Miracles, 259 Malalas, John, 127 Manasses, Constantine, 168 Mani (southern Peloponnesus), 55, 206; surviving pagans in, 206 Manicheans, 121, 134; Mani, the Prophet, 121 Manousis, Theodoros, 142 Manuel II Palaeologus, Emperor, 95, 246 Manuel of Corinth, 137 Marathon: battle of, 216; cave, 205; race, 150 Margounios, Maximos, 137, 214 Marina, Saint, of Theseion, 168 Marcian, Emperor, 204 Marcus Aurelius, Emperor, 50 Martyrs and saints (Christian), cult of, 159; parallels with the pagan cult of heroes, 159, 200. See also Hellenic religion; Paganism Marxism, 92 Mary, Virgin, 99, 127, 166, 178, 210; attributes given to, 167; cult of, 207; Mother of God, 127, 131, 139, 166, 167, 229; Panagia, All-holy, 139 Maurer, Georg von, 56 Mauropous, John, 181, 230, 243 Mavrokordatos, Alexandros, 249 Mavrokordatos, Nikolaos, 249 Mazower, Mark, 81 Maximinus Daia, 121 Maximos the Confessor, 163; Ambigua, 163 Medici, Cosimo de’, 248 Mediterranean, 20, 160, 196; eastern, 83 Medusa, 222 Mega Spilaion, monastery of, 53 Megatheism, 26. See also Henotheism; Monotheism, pagan Megdanis, Charisios, 217; The Hellenic Pantheon, 217 Megisti Lavra (Athos), monastery of, 53 Mehmed II the Conqueror, Sultan, 98 Meier, Christian, 80 Meleager, 243 Meletios, Hosios, monastery of, 53 Melito of Sardes, 84; Homily on Passover, 84 Menander, 157, 209 Mesopotamia, 22

334

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Messalians, 103; “praying people” in Thrace, 103 Metallinos, Georgios, 189 – 190 Metaxas, Anastasios, 221 Metaxas, Ioannis; dictatorship of, 58, 108; law against proselytism, 108; his “Third Hellenic Civilization,” 183 Meteora monastic complex, 53 Methodios, 52 Methone, 52 Metochites, Theodore, 168; his critique of Aristotle’s Metaphysics, 168 Metrophanes III, Patriarch, 92 Michael, Archangel, 232 Michael Nausios, Anastasios, 171 Mikalson, Jon D., 38 Milan, Edict of, 124 Millet, 55, 85, 169; Millet-i-rum/Orthodox Millet, 55, 73, 137 – 138 Milos, 51; catacombs on, 51 Miltiades, 216 Minoan civilization/religion, 19, 229 Mistra, 53, 246, 247, 248; despots of, 246, 247 Mithras, 22, 63, 159; Mithraism as a rival to Christianity, 63 Moldavia, 10, 250, 251 Moisiodax, Iosipos, 250; a Hellenized Vlach, 250; on social traditionalism under Ottoman rule, 250 Mongols, 93 Monks, Orthodox, 103; against classical studies and learning, 135, 165, 254 Monophysitism, 102 Monotheism, 26; Christian, 23, 49, 64 – 65, 66, 101, 117, 119, 146, 160, 234, 239, 272; Jewish, 26, 64, 83, 90, 120; Muslim, 64, 93, 94; pagan, 26, 117, 153, 237 – 239; pagan cult of the Supreme God, 238. See also Christianity; Henotheism; Megatheism, Orthodoxy; Paganism; Polytheism Montesquieu, 78; The Spirit of the Laws, 78 Monuments, ancient Greek: more attractive to tourists today, 2; their re-Hellenization in modern Greece, 177 – 178, 220 – 221. See also Greek ethnicity/nationality Morea, 53 Moses, 236; Mosaic Law, 158 Moschopolis, 251 Moschos, son of Moschion, the Jew, 83. See also Jews in Greece

Moscow, 65 Muhammad, the Prophet, 93 Muses, 28, 217, 248 Mycenaean civilization/religion, 19; Linear B tablets, 19 Myrina, 242 Myrtias, 261 Mysia, 236 Mystery cults, 22. See also Christianity; Hellenic religion Mytilene, 171 Nagy, Gregory, 47 Nasi, Joseph, the Duke of Naxos, 85 National Socialism, 46; German Nazism, 89; Nazi Germany, 85, 150 Nationalism, modern Greek, 75, 76, 79, 178, 180, 252; the “Great Idea,” 58, 260, 264. See also Greece, modern; Irredentism; Orthodox Church Naturalism, 35 Naxos, 51, 85, 223; official and popular religion on, 223 Nazianzus, 130 Nea Moni, monastery of, 53 Nektarios, Patriarch, 174; An Outline of Religious and Secular History, 174 Nemea, 21, 202, 205; Nemean Games, 21 Nemesis, 28; Justice, 248 Neoclassicism in modern Greece, 180, 221 – 222; accepted by the Orthodox Church, 222; survival of pagan motifs in, 222. See also Greek Antiquity; Hellenic tradition/heritage Neomartyrs, 55; Orthodox martyrs, 98 Neo-Orthodoxy and the particular “Greek way,” 265 – 266. See also Greek continuity; Hellenicity/Greekness Neopagans, modern Greek, 90, 91, 151, 154, 184, 246, 268, 271; attempts to de-Christianize Greece, 147; demarcation from other pro-Hellenic groups, 147; the Diipetesgroup and their review, 147; emphasis on reviving the Hellenic religion, 146; ethnic character of, 146; fierce critique of Judaism, Christianity, Byzantium and HellenoChristianity, 144, 146 – 148; as Gentile/ Ethnic Hellenes and Dodekatheists, 146; no connection to Christianity conceivable, 269; pagan festivities of, 147; Sacred Association of Hellenic Followers of Ancestral Religion,

Index 335 148; struggle for Neopagan rights, 148; Supreme Council of the Gentile Hellenes, 147. See also Anti-Romeic Hellenocentrists; Hellenic religion; Orthodox Church; Paganism Neophytos Kavsokalyvitis, 255 Neophytos, monk, 86; his anti-Jewish book, 86 – 87 Neoplatonism: battle over the possession of Plato in Byzantium, 154; Christian, 134, 163; Christian criticism of, 154; pagan, 123, 132, 134, 135, 153, 160, 163, 204, 236, 238, 240, 244, 245, 246, 247; Orthodoxy in pagan Neoplatonism, 154. See also Greek philosophy; Orthodox Church; Plato Nero, Emperor, 121 Neroulos, Iakovos Rizos, 142 Nestorians, 102 New Year festival, 208 Newton, Isaac, 140 Nicaea, 51, 84, 105, 135, 209; Empire of, 75 Nicholas, Bishop, 52, 154 Nicholas, Saint, 99; church of, 187; Nicholas Marmarinos, Saint, church of, 127; Nikolaos, Agios, church of, 176 Nicopolis, 50, 51, 122 Nietzsche, 46 Nikephoros II Phokas, Emperor, 93 Niketas Byzantios, 95 Nikodemos Agioreites, 106 Nikon the “Metanoeite,” 206 Nissiotis, Nikos A., 188 Nonnus, 240; Dionysiaca, 240; paraphrase of the Gospel of John, 240 North, Frederick, 78 Notaras, Loukas, Grand Duke, 68 Nucius, Nicander, 215 Numenius of Apamea, 235, 236 Nymphs, 27, 127, 205 Nyssa, 130 Odessa, 180 O’Donnell, James J., 193 Odysseus, 42 Oikonomos, Konstantinos, 171, 177 Old Calendarists, 60 – 61; relations with the Orthodox Church of Greece, 61 Olga, Queen, 180 Olympia, 20, 21, 28, 44, 51, 150, 188, 202, 204, 205, 236; International Olympic Academy, 188

Olympic Games: ancient, 21, 37, 46, 205, 217, 236; changing church attitudes towards the, 188; their Hellenic/pagan implications and Orthodox reactions today, 143, 150 – 151; International Olympic Committee, 188; modern, 143; of 1896 in Athens, 143, 150, 259, 260; of 1936 in Berlin, 150; of 1996 in Atlanta, 150; of 2004 in Athens, 147, 150, 151, 188; Olympic Anthem/Hymn, 150, 260; Olympic Flame ceremony, 150; Olympic Torch Relay, 150 Olympiodorus of Alexandria, 153, 238 Olympus, Mount, 20, 27, 147, 148, 150, 260; Olympus Association, 149 – 150 Oribasius, 132 Oriental Christian Churches, 102 Oriental: religions, 22, 40; mysticism, 263. See also Hellenic religion Origen, 50, 122 – 123, 161, 236; Against Celsus, 122; condemnation of his ideas, 134, 235; particular appropriation of Platonism and Christianity, 235 Orkhan, Sultan, 97 Orpheus, 28, 210; “Orphic humanism,” 263; Orphism, 28, 268 Orthodox Christianity, 1, 2, 3, 9, 13, 15, 48, 49, 53, 55, 152; different from Western Christianity, 71 – 72; diversity within, 67; in Eastern and South Eastern Europe, 59 – 60; universality of, 76 – 77. See also Anti-Westernism; Christianity; Orthodox Church; Orthodoxy; Patriarchate of Constantinople; Protestantism; Roman Catholic Church; Religious Plurality; Western Christianity Orthodox Church, in Byzantium, 7, 9, 68, 71, 76, 101, 103, 110, 111, 124; attempts at a union with Rome, 66, 68 – 69; Caesaropapism, 65; Christianization of the empire, 51 – 53, 242; church structures in, 50 – 51; and dissidents, 102 – 103; diversity within the, 62; Great Schism between East and West, 53, 68; relations with state/politics, 65 – 66; its universal claims, 72 – 73, 76. See also Anti-Westernism; Orthodox Christianity; Orthodoxy; Patriarchate of Constantinople; Roman Catholic Church; Western Christianity; Western Europe Orthodox Church, in modern Greece, 1, 2, 7, 9, 49, 71, 106, 110, 111, 142, 143; its Apostolic Service, 57, 109; its Constitutional Charters,

336 Index Orthodox Church, in modern Greece (cont’d ) 58; its constitutional recognition, 57; criticism of, 59; denial, control, and tolerance of popular religion, 222 – 228; dissidents in, 178; diversity within the, 60 – 62; its ethnarchic role, 59; its first Sunday School, 57; and Greek Intelligence Service, 110; its Holy Synod, 56, 57, 148, 150, 226, 260, 267, 269; internal deficits of, 141 – 142; its nationalization, 56, 58, 73, 76 – 77, 107, 143, 183 – 184; the “New Lands,” 57; as the “prevailing religion,” 57; proclaimed beneficial role in Greek history, 184 – 185; reactions against anti-Romeic Hellenocentrists and Neopagans, 148 – 149; relations with the state/politics, 58 – 60, 188, 189, 257; relations and tensions with Constantinople, 57, 73, 183; religious/ethnic minorities and the, 58, 106 – 107, 108, 109; its separation from Constantinople and autocephaly, 56, 142, 253, 271; its theological faculties and seminaries, 57. See also Anti-Romeic Hellenocentrists; Anti-Westernism; Neopagans; Orthodox Christianity; Orthodoxy; Patriarchate of Constantinople; Religious plurality Orthodox Church, under Ottoman rule, 54 – 56, 111; anticlericalism, 55; appropriation of the Hellenic tradition, 137 – 139, 213, 215; and the Byzantine Roman tradition, 137; against the Enlightenment, 138, 139; and the combined Orthodox Christian and Greek identity, 137, 138, 169, 170, 171, 176 – 177, 214 – 215, 217, 258 – 259; Greek influences on, 73; relations with Western Europe, 138, 214; its limited tolerance of popular religion, 218; promoting Hellenization, 75, 250 – 251. See also Anti-Westernism; Orthodox Christianity; Orthodoxy; Patriarchate of Constantinople; Protestantism; Roman Catholic Church; Western Christianity; Western Europe Orthodox rigorists, 9, 62, 257, 266 – 267; on Greece’s messianic role, 266 – 267; against all Hellenic elements in modern Greece as Neopagan revivals, 149 – 150, 188; Judeophobia among, 92; tension with the official church, 62. See also Monotheism; Orthodox Christianity; Orthodox Church; Orthodoxy Orthodoxy: and Byzantine unity, 103; and

“catholicity”, 66, 68, 125; Christian, 62, 154; consequences of, 68 – 71; discrepancy between beliefs and practices within, 193; diversity and plurality within, 60 – 62, 67, 270, 274 – 275; doctrine of, 66 – 68; establishment of, in Byzantium, 66 – 67, 101 – 103, 133 – 134, 164; “Feast/Triumph of,” 67; Greek Orthodoxy and religious plurality, 110 – 111; Greek Orthodoxy as superior to all other Orthodoxies, 186; and heresy, 102 – 103; and heterodoxy, 103; incomparable value of, 69, 98 – 99; notion of, 66, 68; Orthodox Christian establishment, dominance and religious plurality, 272, 273 – 274; Orthodox faith, 99, 135, 163; Orthodox Greeks proud of their Orthodoxy, 48, 70, 71; Orthodox Greeks seeing no problems with the intermingling of official and popular religion, 223, 227, 228; popular religion and, 207 – 208, 218 – 219; potential loss of, 98 – 98; its preservation under harsh conditions, 70 – 71; “Sunday of,” 67; Synodikon of Orthodoxy, 135; systematization of, 163. See also AntiWesternism; Christianity; Church Fathers; Ecumenical Councils; Orthodox Christianity; Orthodox Church; Patriarchate of Constantinople; Religious plurality; Theology Osiris, 22 Otto I, Saxon ruler, 65 Otto, Walter F., 46 Otto von Wittelsbach, King, 56, 57, 105, 142, 177, 258; and the Orthodox Church, 56; and the Bavarians in modern Greece, 56, 142, 258; a Roman Catholic, 105 – 106 Ottoman Empire, 55, 56, 76, 79, 85, 86, 88, 95, 96, 174; and ancient Greece, 94; attitudes towards Jews in, 85 – 86; danger of, 77, 246; and the Byzantines, 95, 98; evaluated negatively by the modern Greeks, 248 – 249; Orthodox Christian legitimations of, 98 – 99; and Orthodox Greeks, 169; Ottoman Turks/Ottomans, 54, 55, 68, 78, 93, 94, 99, 128, 216; period/rule of, 2, 3, 9, 10, 11, 12, 43, 44, 69, 70, 71, 75, 78, 90, 95, 98, 100, 105, 136, 138, 169, 248; the Sublime Porte in, 55, 250, 253; Sultan, 99; tolerance within, 55, 85, 93; Western designs against, 79; and Western Europe, 94. See also Anti-Westernism; Byzantium; Orthodox Church; Turkey; Turkish; Turkmen

Index 337 Pacifico, David, 87 – 88; the Pacifico Affair, 87 – 88. See also Anti-Judaism; Anti-Semitism; Jews in Greece Paganism, 40, 90, 119; ambiguous and polysemous character of religious practices in Late Antique Greece, 205 – 206; ban on pagans in the administration, 204; ban on pagans as teachers, 134; Christian overtaking of pagan monuments, 126 – 129, 132, 166, 202; Christian violence against, 126, 133, 202; Christians delving into, 240 – 244; civic functions of, 204, 211; coexistence with Christianity throughout Late Antiquity, 128, 203, 204, 205 – 206, 237, 239, 270; crypto-paganism, 239; decline/eclipse/end of, 49, 115, 132; durability and survival in a Christian era, 36, 101, 103, 104, 127, 193, 194, 203, 204, 205 – 206, 207 – 209; fluid boundaries and overlapping cult activities between paganism and Christianity in Late Antiquity, 193, 196, 202, 206 – 207, 209; fluid identities and oscillation between various cultures in Late Antiquity, 239 – 243, 261 – 262; as heathenism and idolatry, 9, 140, 146; intellectual paganism as distinct from practical paganism, 195, 241; and Islam, 99; Jewish-Christian influences on pagans, 236; not necessarily a rival to Christianity, 193; and opposition to Christianity, 124, 128 – 129, 131 – 133; Orthodox worship as a continuation of Hellenic cults, 218, 224; pagans, 8, 90, 102, 103, 154; pagan and Christian “holy men,” 124; pagan counter-culture in Late Antique Byzantium, 241; pagan critics of Christianity, 122, 123, 131 – 133; pagan literature, 152; pagan reactions against the Christian expansion and appropriation of Hellenism, 153 – 154; pagan reliefs marked with Christian crosses, 126, 128, 129; pagan resistance to Christianization in Greece, 127, 128, 129, 166, 202, 203; pagan survivals under Ottoman rule and church reactions, 218 – 219; pagan teachers tolerant of their Christian students, 133, 210; parallels between pagan and Christian practices and ideas in Late Antiquity, 159, 200, 232, 234, 238; plurality within, 193; relation to Hellenic religion, 8; state anti-pagan legislation, 124 – 126, 134, 204, 206; romance novel and paganism in Late Byzantium, 210 – 211;

survival of, in rural areas of Byzantine Greece, 205, 207; survival of, in Western Europe, 46; surviving pagans in high public offices in Byzantium, 204; tolerance of pagans in Byzantium, 126, 132 – 133, 134. See also Christianity; Conversion; Gentiles; Hellenic religion; Orthodox Christianity; Orthodoxy; Monotheism; Polytheism; Religious plurality Palaeologan imperial dynasty/family, 53, 246; Palaeologan renaissance, 53 Palamas, Gregory, Archbishop, 52 Palamas, Kostis, 260 – 261; “Hymn to Athena,” 260; “Iambs and Anapaests,” 260; “The Twelve Days of the Gypsy,” 260 Paleopolis, 127 Palestine, 10, 62, 64, 83, 84, 236 Paliouritis, Grigorios, 217; Hellenic Archaeology, 217 Palladas, 239 Palmerston, Lord, 88 Pamprepios, 204 Pan, 27, 127, 205, 260 Panagia Gorgoepikoos, church of, 54, 128, 169. See also Eleftherios, Saint, church of Panathenaia/Panathenaic festival, 1, 24; Games, 143. See also Athens; Hellenic religion Panayiotopoulos, Christophoros (Papoulakos), 56 Panopolis, 126 Panteleimon (Karanikolas), Metropolitan, 91; his anti-Jewish book, 91 – 92. See also AntiJudaism; Jews in Greece Papachristodoulou, Polydoros, 227 Papadiamantis, Alexander, 261; The Gypsy Girl, 261 Papadopoulos, Joseph, 149 Papaioannou, Dimitris, 150 Papaioannou, Kostas, 264 Papaphilis, Theophilos, 219; against pagan survivals in Ottoman Greece, 219 Paparrigopoulos, Konstantinos, 179 – 180; on Greek national and religious continuity, 179 – 180. See also Greek continuity; Helleno-Christianity Paralios of Aphrodisias, 239 Paris, 252 Parios, Athanasios as a fierce critic of the Hellenic past and religion, 71, 139 – 140, 217

338

Index

Parium, 236 Parliament, Greek, 60, 107, 142 Paros, 51 Parthenon, temple of, 1, 18, 21, 27, 43, 166, 220 – 221; as a Christian church, 127, 166; as a mosque, 99, 100, 128. See also Acropolis; Athens Patmos, 50, 53, 127 Patras, 50, 52, 84 Patriarchate of Constantinople, 48, 51, 55, 56, 57, 73, 75, 76, 92, 98, 100, 106, 136, 140, 173, 183, 191, 213, 250, 253, 271; Patriarch of, 55, 68, 73, 85, 92, 133, 164, 254 Patriarchal Academy/School in Constantinople, 87, 137, 169, 172; Patriarchal Synod, 134, 135, 141, 171; title “ecumenical,” 73. See also Constantinople; Orthodox Christianity; Orthodox Church; Orthodoxy Patriarchate of Jerusalem, Greek Orthodox, 92, 181; as a promoter of Orthodoxy and Hellenism, 92, 181 Paul, the Apostle, 48, 83, 84, 118, 119, 120, 156, 157, 161, 165, 197, 198, 199, 200, 271; letters to Christian communities in Greece, 50, 197, 234 – 235; missionary trips, 49, 50 Paul the Silentiary, 242 Paulicians, 103 Pausanias, 18; Description of Greece, 18 Peisistratos/Pisistratus, 20, 216 Peitho, 28 Pelagonia, 251 Pelikan, Jaroslav, 161 Peloponnesian War, 28, 38 Peloponnesus, 10, 12, 53, 55, 56, 87, 93, 103, 137, 206, 246 Pendeli, 143 Pentecostals, 108. See also Protestantism/ Protestants Peregrinus Proteus, 236 – 237 Perdikaris, Michael, 141 Pergamon, 22, 189 Pericles, 38; his Funeral Oration, 38 Persephone, 27, 32 Persia, 10; Persian religion, 121; Persians, 17, 21, 22, 37, 39, 132, 216 Peter, the Apostle, 125 Peter the Great, Czar, 73 Phanariotes, 10, 75, 249 – 250; Hellenized, 249 Pharao’s daughter as a type for pagan philosophy, 162

Pharmakides, Theoklitos, 56 Pheidas, Vlasios, 189 Philadelpheios poetry competition, 260 Philanthropinon, monastery of, 176 Philehellenism, 43, 44, 46, 56, 78, 179, 214 Philip II, King, 21 Philip, the Apostle, 266 Philip, Bishop, 50 Philippi, 27, 49, 51; coexistence of pagans and Christians, 199 – 200; overlapping practices between Christians and pagans, 200 – 202; pagan reliefs on the acropolis hill, 200 – 201; as possible place of Paul’s martyrdom, 199. See also Paganism Philo of Alexandria, 26, 83, 176 Philoponus, John, 239; his appropriation of Aristotelian philosophy, 239. See also Aristotelian philosophy; Aristotle Philorthodox conspiracy, 105 Philostratus, 123 Phoenician provenance of the Greek alphabet, 146 Photios, Patriarch, 79, 85, 134, 164, 165, 241; accused of paganism, 165; Amphilochia, 164; Bibliotheca or Myriobiblos, 164; Lexicon, 164 Phratries, 38 Phrygia, 126 Phyle Pan Cave, 205 Phythia, 132. See also Delphi Pietists, German, 106, 171. See also Protestantism/Protestants Pindar, 37; in Byzantium, 165 Pinytus, Bishop, 50 Piraeus, 88, 221 Planudes, Maximos, 243 Plato, 35, 42, 44, 131, 134, 136, 140, 154, 157, 175, 176, 190, 230, 236, 243, 244, 245, 246, 247, 255, 258; Christian Platonism, 161, 163; church reactions to, 134, 141; Platonic dualism, 123, 235; Platonic idealism, 235; Platonism, 122, 123, 157, 158, 161, 236, 238, 241, 244, 245, 246, 248, 263, 264; Platonists, 137; Republic, 246; revival in Byzantium, 135; Timaeus, 238. See also Academy; Church Fathers; Greek philosophy; Neoplatonism Plethon, Georgios Gemistos, 114, 136, 213, 245 – 248, 261; burning of the Laws, 247, 260; Laws and pagan revival, 136, 137, 138, 247, 248; See also Neoplatonism; Plato Plevris, Kostas, 91

Index 339 Pliny the Younger, 121 Plotinus, 123, 154. See also Neoplatonism; Plato Plutarch, 176, 190, 230, 243 Podskalsky, Gerhard, 72 Politis, Nikolaos, 143 – 144, 224; founder of the Greek Folklore Society, 224 Polytheism, 26, 27, 64; as an accusation in Byzantium, 134, 165; Chaldean (Babylonian), 120; Christian critique of, 26, 65, 120 – 122, 165, 210; Egyptian, 120, 122; Hellenic, 3, 23, 26 – 27, 39, 40, 41, 45, 49, 64, 83, 90, 94, 117, 120, 132, 136, 140, 146, 154, 244, 272, 273; Jewish critique of, 26, 83; pagan monotheism within, 238 – 239; Roman, 8, 23, 39; and the Roman socio-political order, 122; plurality and flexibility of, 122, 235; as the sole legitimate religion of Greece, 144. See also Christianity; Hellenic religion; Monotheism; Orthodox Christianity; Orthodoxy; Paganism; Trinity of Pomaks, 96, 99 Pontus, 51, 83, 107, 121, 180, 215, 232 Porphyrios, Bishop, 200 Porphyrios, the mime, 187 Porphyropoulos, Markos, 70 – 71 Porphyry, 123, 197, 238; Philosophy from Oracles, 123; Against the Christians, 123 Portos, Frangiskos, 171 Portugal, 85, 87 Poseidon, 19, 21 Potemkin, Grigorii A., 173 Potlis, Michael, 142 Prespes, 149 Preveza, 84 Priscilla, 83 Proclus, 153, 154, 163, 238, 244 Procopius, 73, 134 Prodicus, 35 Prodromos, 210 Protagoras, 29, 35 Protestantism/Protestants, 66, 106, 111; British and American Bible societies, 106, 185; communities in Greece, 106 – 107; converts to, 107; Greek Evangelical Church, 107; influence in Greek areas, 70; in Katerini, 108; missionary activities in Greece, 106; and the Orthodox Church of Greece, 107, 108; Panhellenic Evangelical Alliance, 108; roots of Greek, 107; schools in Greece, 106; translations of the Bible into vernacular

Greek, 106, 171. See also Anti-Westernism; Orthodox Christianity; Orthodox Church; Orthodoxy; Roman Catholic Church; Western Christianity Proussos, monastery of, 53 Psachos, Konstantinos A., 263 Psellos, Michael, 103, 135, 243 – 244; Chronographia, 244; as a synthesizer of Christian and Platonic ideas, 244. See also Neoplatonism; Plato “Ptochoprodromos,” 255 Ptolemaios, 22 Publius, Bishop, 50 Pythagoras, 28, 131, 190; neo-Pythagoreanism, 123, 235; Pythagoreanism, 28, 247 Pythian Games in Delphi, 21; revival of, by the Sikelianoses, 262. See also Delphic feasts/ festivals; Sikelianos, Angelos Quadrivium, 131 Qur’an, 95 Quirini, Angelo Maria, 173 Rajneesh, Bhagwan Shree, 109; his movement Osho, 109 Ramfos, Stelios, 266 Rangavis, Kleon Rizos, 142; Julian the Apostate, 142 Reformation, 45. See also Protestantism Religion, understood in the context of antiquity, 7. See also Hellenic religion Religious cultures, concept of, 6 – 7 Religious cultures of Greece, 15; antinomies of, 13 – 14; meaning of, 10, 12. See also Religious history of Greece Religious history of Greece, 4, 15, 54, 113; antinomies in, 13 – 14; complexity, diversity, and plurality, 5, 15, 82, 113, 270, 271, 272, 276; normative views on, 271 – 272. See also Religious cultures of Greece; Religious plurality Religious plurality, as a historical reality in Greece, 101, 107, 270, 271, 272, 276; foreign immigrants in modern Greece, 101, 110; minorities in modern Greece, religious/ ethnic, 58, 96, 107 – 110. See also Hellenic religion; Orthodox Christianity; Orthodox Church; Orthodoxy; Paganism; Polytheism; Religious history of Greece Religious wars in sixteenth- and seventeenthcentury Europe, 111

340

Index

Renaissance, 41, 42, 45, 46, 78, 137, 168, 213, 247 Renan, Ernest, 142 – 143; Prière sur l’Acropole, 143; Vie de Jésus, 142 Rethymno, 229 Reuchlin, Johannes, 170 – 171 Revett, Nicholas, 100; The Antiquities of Athens, 100 Rhea, 167 Rhodes, 84, 89 Rigas Velestinlis, 180, 251 – 252; Carta of Greece, 251; New Political Constitution of the Inhabitans of Rumeli, Asia Minor, the Archipelago, Moldavia, and Wallachia, 251; notion of Greekness, 251 – 252; potential coexistence of Christians and Muslims, 251; Rights of Man, 251 Rimini, 248 Roidis, Emmanuel, 142, 257 Rollin, Charles, 174; Histoire Ancienne, 174 Roma people, 96 Roman Catholic Church, 53, 66, 67, 68, 111, 214; converts to, 105, 169, 218; Greek translations of Roman Catholic spiritual tomes, 106; Orthodox anti-Catholic sentiments, 105, 106; Roman Catholic missionaries in Ottoman Greece, 105; Roman CatholicProtestant interaction, 111; Roman Catholic schools in modern Greece, 107; Roman Catholics in modern Greece, 105; Roman Catholics in the Ottoman Empire, 105; union of the churches in Byzantium, 98, 247. See also Anti-Westernism; Byzantium; Orthodox Church; Orthodox Christianity; Orthodoxy; Protestantism; Western Christianity Roman Empire, 23, 51, 63, 65, 73, 77, 78, 84, 99, 101, 129, 160, 174; Christian persecutions in, 23, 121, 157; Christianization of, 48, 65, 74, 124, 133, 174, 261; early views on Christianity in, 121; Hellenization of, 39; Roman citizenship, 73 – 74; Roman history, 168; Roman Senate, 157; Romans, 22, 23, 40, 41, 78, 125. See also Byzantium; Byzantines; East Roman Empire; Rome; Romeic Hellenism Romania (modern), 10, 250 Romaniote Jews and their traditions, 84; assimilated in Greece, 89, 90. See also Ashkenazi Jews; Jews in Greece; Sephardic Jews

Romanos the Melode, 131 Romanticism, 43, 44, 78, 214; “Greek Revival” in, 43; idealization of Greek Antiquity, 43, 78 Rome, 41, 51, 66, 68, 69, 77, 104, 105, 121, 122, 124, 199, 241; great fire of, 121 Romeic Hellenism, 75, 76, 138, 146, 224, 249, 260; in Asia Minor and Pontus and its Hellenization process, 180; Greek Romeicity, 146, 267; Roman continuity in the East, 47, 74, 77, 174; Romeic Greeks, 76; Romeic identity model, 151; Rum Orthodox, 107; “Romhellenes” in Late Byzantium, 75; rejected as bastard Hellenism/Hellenes, 146. See also Byzantium; Byzantines; East Roman Empire; Greeks, modern; Hellenes; Roman Empire; Western Europe Ross, Ludwig, 221 Rothschild, Lionel Nathan de, 88 Ruler worship, 22; Roman imperial cult, 23, 29, 121. See also Hellenic religion Rumeli, 251 Russia/Russian Empire, 55, 69, 73, 88, 141; classical studies in, 173; Greeks in, 172, 186; Orthodox Russians, 95 Russian Orthodox Church, 173; and classical studies, 186; theology and “Christian Hellenism,” 185 Russo-Turkish War of 1768 – 74, 105 Sakellarakis, Yiannis, 229 Sakellarios, Georgios, 217; Concise Archaeology of the Greeks, 217 Saladin, Sultan, 97 Salamis (Cyprus), 102, 166 Samaria, 157; Samaritans, 84, 134 Samiou, Domna, 228; Carnival Songs — Profane Sacred, 228; law suit against, 228 Samos, 20, 28, 127, 128 Samosata, 122, 197 Samothracian mysteries, 22 Samson, 144 Santorini, 126 Sarapis, 22; temple of, in Corinth, 198 Saripolos, Nikolaos I., 142 Sceptic philosophers, 36 Schiller, 46 Schliemann, Heinrich, 221 – 222 Scholarios, Gennadios II, Patriarch, 98, 136, 137, 247, 260, 261

Index 341 Sculpture in Christian Byzantium, 166 – 167, 211 – 212 Secularization, 24 Seferis, George, 194, 258 Seleukos, 22 Sephardic Jews and their traditions, 85 – 86; resisting Hellenization, 89. See also Ashkenazi Jews; Jews in Greece; Romaniote Jews Serapeum, temple of, destruction of, 240 Serapheim, Archbishop, 100, 186 Serapheim of Mytilene, 171 Serdica, edict of, 124 Serres, 225; Metropolitan of, 187 Siatista, 176 Sibylla, 176 Sicily, 10, 12, Sidirokastro, 127 Sikelianos, Angelos, 262; his wife Eva Palmer, 262. See also Delphic feasts/festivals Sikelos, Constantine, 135 Sikinos, 127 Silas, 49 Simplicius, 153 Sinai, 181 Sinope, 215 Siphnos, 182; Siphnians, 126 Slavic peoples/tribes, 9, 103; bilingualism among, 104; their Christianization in Central and Eastern Europe, 52; their Christianization and Hellenization in Byzantium, 52, 104; Greek-Slav-mixture in the Middle Ages, 179; Muslim Slavs in Greece, 96; Slavic pagan traditions, 103 – 104, 206; settlement in Greece, 51 Smyrna, 10, 85, 86 Socrates, 21, 29, 35, 42, 140, 176, 258; as a “Christian before Christ,” 157 Soli, 83 Sophists, 21, 35, 158; Second Sophistic, 39 Sophocles, 36 Sotiris, Loudovikos/Luigi, 255 – 256 Sourvinou-Inwood, Christiane, 24 Soviet Communism, 186 Sozopolis, 192 Spain, 85 Sparta, 38, 44, 50, 206; Spartan envoys, 17; Spartan model of education, 183 Sporades Islands, North, 56 Spyridon, Saint, 99 St. Petersburg, 173

Stageiritis, Athanasios, 217; Ogygia or Archaeology, 217 Stoic philosophers/arguments, 118, 119, 156, 157; on the cosmic Logos, 156 – 157; Stoicism, 157, 158, 238; and Christianity, 157. See also Logos Strasbourg, 108 Stratford-on-Avon, 257 Stewart, Charles, 223 Stuart, James, 100; The Antiquities of Athens, 100 Suetonius, 121 Symeon of Thessalonica, 52 Syncretism, 196 Synesios, 239 – 240, 255; Hymns, 240 Synkellos, George, 168 Syracuse, 216 Syria, 10, 22, 83, 102, 123, 163, 236, 261 Syros, 105 Tacitus, 121 Taplin, Oliver, 42 Tatian, 40 Taygetos, 175 Tertullian, 117 Thales, 35 Thasos, 32 Theater: in ancient Greece, 24, 32, 42, 217; Christian critique of, in Byzantium, 133, 186, 187; Christian theatrical tradition in Ottoman times, 186; modern change of church attitudes towards, 187; National Theater of Greece, 187, 263; persisting tension between church and, 187 – 188; Professional Theatrical School in Athens, 187; its worldwide appeal today, 42. See also Hellenic tradition/heritage Thebes, 38, 84, 216 Thebes, Christian (Nea Anchialos), 51; Basilica of St. Demetrios in, 52 Thea, temple of, 126 Themistius, 132 Themistocles, 216, 258 Theodora, wife of Sultan Orkhan, 97 Theodora, wife of the Despot of Mistra Demetrios, 247 Theodorakis, Mikis, 265 Theodosius I, Emperor, 125, 132, 133, 205; Theodosian Code, 117, 125 Theodosius II, Emperor, 125

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Index

Theology, Christian: against paganism, 129 – 131; apophatic, 161, 163, 266; differences from Hellenic theology, 33, 34; and Greek philosophy, 157, 165 – 166; its “Hellenic” character in Byzantium, 160; Latin/Scholastic, 53, 72, 165, 166; Orthodox Christian in Byzantium, 53, 165. See also Christianity; Church Fathers; Ecumenical Councils; Monotheism; Orthodox Christianity; Orthodoxy; Western Christianity Theophilos, Patriarch, 240 Theotokas, Yiorgos, 264 Theotokis, Nikephoros, 86 Thereianos, Dimitrios, 142 Thermopylae, 44, 216 Thessalonica, 2, 27, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 58, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 88, 89, 97, 125, 165, 166, 179, 197, 209, 225, 273, 274; Aristotelian University of, 86, 92, 185; as “European Capital of Culture,” 274; its multicultural and multireligious character, 81 – 82, 274; Museum of Byzantine Culture in, 179; Music Hall in, 228; Rotonda as a secular building, a mosque and a church of Saint George in, 274; and the Rotonda conflict, 274; Vlatadon monastery in, 53 Theseion, 18, 168, 177; as church of Saint George, 127; Hephaestos, temple of, 127; reHellenized in modern Greece, 177 – 178 Theseus, 28, 144 Thessaly, 10, 12, 27, 51, 53, 56, 103 Thomas and his mercenary corps in Western Europe, 215; battle against the French, 215 Thrace, 12, 49, 51, 99, 103, 227; Eastern Thrace, 89, 192; Western Thrace, 2, 10, 57, 96 Thracian Horseman, cult of, 200 Thrasybulus, 216, 258 Three Hierarchs, feast of the, 181 – 182; as a model for Helleno-Christian synthesis, 182 Thucydides, 176, 209, 255 Timoleon, 216 Timothy, 49 Tinos, 105 Titus, Bishop, 50 Toledo, Council of, 67 Traian, Emperor, 121 Tribes/phyles, 38. See also Hellenic religion Tribonian, Flavius, 134 Trikala, 84 Trinity, doctrine of, 64, 66, 125, 236, 239;

Trinitarian theology, 161. See also Monotheism; Orthodox Christianity; Orthodoxy; Polytheism; Theology, Christian Tripolis, 87 Trivium, 131 Troezene, 57; National Assembly at, 57 Trojan War, 28 Troy, 200 Trullo, Council of, Quinisextum, 207; prohibitions of surviving pagan practices among Christians, 207 – 208 Tsaritsani, 176 Tsarouchis, Yiannis, 265 Tsatsos, Konstantinos, 263 – 264 Tübingen, 106; University of, 170 Turkey, 28, 86, 96, 99 Turkish: expansion, 97; literature translated into Greek, 94; mercenaries in the Byzantine army, 97 Turkmen, 93 Tyana, 123, 176 Tyche (Fortuna), 167 Tyrnavos, 228 United States, 44, 106, 109; American consul expelled from Athens, 107; Greeks immigrants to the, 191 Valens, Emperor, 125 Valentinian I, Emperor, 125 Valetas, Spyros, 142 Vari (Mount Hymettus), 205 Varro, Marcus Terentius, 34; theologia tripertita, 34. See also Hellenic religion Vasily I, Grand Prince of Moscow, 65 Vellas, monastery of, 176 Venice, 217, 248 Venizelos, Eleftherios, 59, 88 Vernant, Jean-Pierre, 190 Via Egnatia, 49, 201 Vienna, 217; Royal Academy of, 217 Vikelas, Dimitrios, 259 Virgil, 173; Georgics and Aeniad, 173 Vlach, 250 Vlachos, Ierotheos, Metropolitan, 189 Volos, 143 Voltaire, 139 Vota, feast of the, 208 Voulgaris, Eugenios, 87, 172, 173; his classical erudition, 173; his contribution to classical

Index 343 studies in Russia, 173; his critique of Greek philosophical ideas, 173; on the rights of the Jews, 87; his translations of Anacreon and Virgil, 173. See also “Humanism, Orthodox Christian” Voulgaris, Nikolaos, 142 Voutsinaios Literary Contest, 142 Vranos, Ioannis Ch., 190 Wallachia, 10, 250, 251; Wallachian language, 251; Wallachians, 251 West Roman Empire, 74, 124, 125. See also Byzantium; East Roman Empire Western Christianity/Christians/theologians, 45, 67, 69, 71, 72, 74, 76, 98, 106; in Byzantium, 104 – 105; critical of Byzantium and Orthodox Christianity, 78; and differences with Orthodox Christianity, 70, 71, 72; as Latins, Franks, and Italians from a Byzantine perspective, 74; and productive encounters with the Orthodox East, 106, 169 – 170; seen by the Arabs, 97. See also Anti-Westernism; Christianity; Orthodox Christianity; Orthodox Church; Orthodoxy; Protestantism; Roman Catholic Church; Western Europe Western Europe/West: anti-Christian aspects in, 46, 214; appropriation of Greek Antiquity in, 13, 41 – 47, 77, 78, 80, 138, 139, 170 – 171, 213, 250, 253; claims for Roman continuity in, 77; exhibitions on Byzantium in, 79; and the idea of Europe, 79 – 80; impressive development in modern times, 69, 70, 71, 172, 255; and Islam, 93 – 94; Latin West vs. Orthodox East 65, 67, 68, 74, 105, 135, 164, 170, 190; medieval universities and theology in, 53, 72; as a model for the Orthodox East, 69, 70, 71, 105, 138, 172, 255; modernity in, 7, 13, 24, 42; negative views on Byzantium in, 65, 73, 74, 75, 77 – 80, 138, 259; negative views on Orthodox Christianity in, 68 – 70, 77 – 80, 214; Neopagan currents in, 46; Orthodox Greeks vs. Western progress, 255 – 256; Orthodox Greeks living in, 44, 248, 252; positive stance towards Byzantium and Orthodox Christianity, 79; reception of Hellenic religion in, 45 – 46; Western “fever for antiquities” and archaeophilia/archaeomania, 43, 78, 138, 141, 170, 177, 249; Western impact on Ottoman

Greece, 55, 213 – 214, 248, 250, 255; Western interest in Greek popular customs under Ottoman rule, 218; Western interest in modern Greece, 45, 79; Westerners visiting Ottoman Greece, 43, 138. See also AntiWesternism; Byzantium; Christianity; East; Greece; Orthodox Church; Orthodoxy; Romeic Hellenism Winter solstice festival, 159 Wolf, Hieronymus, 78 Wolff, Christian, 140, 215 World chronicles, Byzantine, 168; their intended audience, 168. See also Chronicles, historical World Congress of Ethnic Religions in Athens, 147. See also Anti-Romeic Hellenocentrists; Neopagans World War I, 59 World War II, 2, 57, 59, 89, 184 Xanthi, 100 Xenophanes, 35 Xenophon, 209 Xiphilinos, John, Patriarch, 244 Yahweh, temple of, in Jerusalem, 83, 90 Yannaras, Christos, 266 Ypsilantis, Alexandros, 216 Zagoria, 176 Zakynthos, 89 Zambelios, Spyridon, 178 Zenon, 140 Zeno, Emperor, 204 Zevi, Sabbatai, 86; Sabbateans, 86 Zeus, 19, 21, 27, 40, 140, 148, 150, 247, 248; Agoraios, 27; Boulaios, 27; Polieus, 27; shrine of Zeus (Dodona), 20; temple of Olympian Zeus (Athens), 1, 18, 148; temple of Olympian Zeus (Jerusalem), 83. See also Hellenic religion; Paganism Zigabenus, Euthymios, 102; Panoplia Dogmatica, 102 Ziller, Ernst M. Th., 221 Zizioulas, John, Metropolitan, 189 Zonaras, John, 168 Zoodochos Pigi or Golas, monastery of, 175 Zoroaster, 246; Zoroastrianism, 246, 247 Zosimus, 133 Zouraris, Kostas, 266

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About the Author

Vasilios N. Makrides is Professor of Religious Studies, specializing in Orthodox Christianity, at the University of Erfurt, Germany. His research interests lie especially in the cultural history and sociology of Orthodox Christianity and the historical religious and cultural relations between Eastern and Western Europe.

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