Philo of Alexandria: On the Contemplative Life: Introduction, Translation and Commentary 2020030075, 2020030076, 9789004438149, 9789004439238

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Philo of Alexandria: On the Contemplative Life

Philo of Alexandria Commentary Series General editor Gregory E. Sterling

Associate editor David T. Runia

Editorial board Harold W. Attridge – Ellen Birnbaum John Dillon – Annewies Van den Hoek – Alan Mendelson Thomas Tobin, S.J. – David Winston

volume 7

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

Philo of Alexandria On the Contemplative Life Introduction, Translation, and Commentary

Introduction, Translation and Textual Notes by

Joan E. Taylor Commentary by

Joan E. Taylor David M. Hay †

LEIDEN | BOSTON

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Taylor, Joan E., author. | Hay, David M., author. | Philo, of Alexandria. De Vita Contemplativa. English. Title: Philo of Alexandria On the contemplative life : introduction, translation, and commentary / by Joan E. Taylor, David M. Hay. Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, 2020. | Series: Philo of Alexandria commentary series, 1570-095X ; 7 | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2020030075 (print) | LCCN 2020030076 (ebook) | ISBN 9789004438149 (hardback) | ISBN 9789004439238 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Philo, of Alexandria. De Vita Contemplativa. | Therapeutae. Classification: LCC B689.D443 T39 2020 (print) | LCC B689.D443 (ebook) | DDC 181/.06–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020030075 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020030076

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill‑typeface. ISSN 1570-095X ISBN 978-90-04-43814-9 (hardback) ISBN 978-90-04-43923-8 (e-book) Copyright 2021 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense, Hotei Publishing, mentis Verlag, Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink Verlag. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Requests for re-use and/or translations must be addressed to Koninklijke Brill NV via brill.com or copyright.com. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

for the SBL Philo Group

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Contents General Introduction to the Philo of Alexandria Commentary Series Gregory E. Sterling Preface xvi Acknowledgments xxiv Abbreviations xxvi List of Figures xxix Introduction 1 1 Philo and the Context of the Treatise 1 2 Genre and the Question of Actuality 22 3 The Treatise within the Philonic Corpus 31 4 Structure: The Two Ways 38 5 Texts, Translations and Commentaries 41 6 Nachleben: The Christian Use of De vita contemplativa 7 The Name of the “Therapeutae” 51 8 Identity: Ascetic Jewish Allegorists in Alexandria 57

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Translation and Textual Notes: Philo of Alexandria, De Vita Contemplativa Translation

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Textual Notes

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Commentary The Title

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Chapter 1: §§1–11 Introduction

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Chapter 2: §§12–39 The Good Example Chapter 3: §§40–63 The Wrong Symposia Chapter 4: §§64–89 The Right Symposia

141 222 264

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contents

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Bibliography 353 Index of Subjects and Names 381 Index of Ancient Sources 393

General Introduction to the Philo of Alexandria Commentary Series Philo of Alexandria (c. 20 BCE–c. 50 CE) was a member of one of the most prominent families of the large and influential Jewish community in Alexandria. We know more about his brother and his family than we do about Philo. His brother, Gaius Julius Alexander, held a responsible governmental position (Josephus, A.J. 18.159, 259; 19.276–277, 20.100) and may have been a substantial property owner (CPJ 420a and 420b) as well as the manager of the Egyptian estates of Julia Augusta, the mother of the emperor Tiberius (CPJ 420b). He had probably become known to the emperor’s family through Herodian intermediaries (Josephus, A.J. 19.276–277). His praenomen and nomen suggest that the family was associated in some way with Gaius Julius Caesar. It may be that Caesar granted Roman citizenship to Alexander’s grandfather for assistance during the Alexandrian War (48–47BCE). Alexander made the most of his position and contacts and became exceptionally wealthy (Josephus, A.J. 20.100). He once loaned 200,000 drachmas to Agrippa I (Josephus, A.J. 18.159–160). He covered nine of the temple doors in Jerusalem with gold and silver (B.J. 5.201–205), an act of patronage that attests his immense resources as well as his commitment to Judaism. The rabbis later report that he had a Torah scroll with the names of God in gold letters (Sop. 1.9 and Sep. Torah 1.9). Alexander’s social and economic standing is confirmed by the roles of his two sons. The archive of Nicanor suggests that Marcus Julius Alexander, Alexander’s younger son, was active in the import-export business that moved goods from India and Arabia through Egypt to the West. He married Berenice, the daughter of Herod Agrippa I and later partner of the emperor Titus, but died prematurely c. 43 CE (Josephus, A.J. 19.276–277). His older brother Tiberius Julius Alexander had one of the most remarkable careers of any provincial in the first two centuries of the Roman Empire. Tiberius moved through a series of lower posts until he held governorships in Judea, Syria, and Egypt. When he backed Vespasian in the Flavian’s bid for the throne, his career quickly rose to its apex: he served as Titus’s chief of staff during the First Jewish revolt in 66– 70CE (Josephus, B.J. 5.45–46; 6.237) and as prefect of the praetorian guard in Rome after the war (CPJ 418b). While his career strained his relationship with his native Judaism to the breaking point (Josephus, A.J. 20.100; Philo, Prov. and Anim.), it attests the high standing of the family. The most famous member of this remarkable family was paradoxically probably the least known in wider circles during his life. This is undoubtedly due to

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the contemplative nature of the life that he chose. His choice was not total. He may have had some civic function in the Jewish community. At least this would help to explain why the Alexandrian Jewish community selected him to serve on the first Jewish delegation to Rome after the pogrom in Alexandria in 38CE, a delegation that probably included his brother and older nephew (Legat. 182, 370; Anim. 54). The political arena was not, however, where his heart lay; he gave his heart to the life of the intellect (Spec. 3.1–6). He undoubtedly received a full education that included training in the gymnasium, the ephebate, and advanced lectures in philosophy and rhetoric. His philosophical training was of enormous importance to his intellectual formation. While he knew and made use of different philosophical traditions such as Stoicism and Pythagoreanism, his basic orientation was Platonic. Middle Platonism (c. 80 BCE–c. 220CE) had become a vibrant intellectual movement in Alexandria in the first century BCE, especially in the work of Eudorus (fl. 25 BCE). Philo became convinced that Plato and Moses understood reality in similar ways, although he was unequivocal about who saw it most clearly. His commitment to Judaism is evident in his training in the LXX: he knew it with the intimacy of one who lived with it from the cradle. He also knew the works of some of his Jewish literary predecessors such as Aristobulus, Pseudo-Aristeas, and Ezekiel the tragedian. He was aware of a significant number of other Jewish exegetes to whom he alluded in his commentaries, but always anonymously (Opif. 26, 77, and Migr. 89–93). The most probable social setting for his literary work is a private school in which he offered instruction in much the same way that philosophers and physicians did. This was likely in his own private residence, but a setting in a house of prayer (synagogue) cannot be ruled out. One of the ways that he taught was through writing. His treatises constitute one of the largest Greek corpora that has come down to us from antiquity. We know that he wrote more than seventy treatises: thirty-seven of these survive in Greek manuscripts and nine (as counted in the tradition) in a rather literal sixth-century Armenian translation. We also have excerpts of another work in Greek and fragments of two more in Armenian. The lost treatises are known from references to them in the extant treatises, gaps in his analyses of the biblical texts in the commentary series, and testimonia. The treatises fall into five major groups: three separate commentary series, the philosophical writings, and the apologetic writings. The three commentary series are Philo’s own literary creations; the philosophical and apologetic series are modern constructs that group conceptually similar but literarily independent treatises. The heart of the Philonic enterprise lay in the three commentary series. Each of these was an independent work with a distinct rationale and form.

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Philo set each series apart through explicit statements about the design of the series (for the Exposition of the Law), the use of secondary prefaces to link treatises together (for the Allegorical Commentary and Exposition of the Law), distinct approaches to the biblical text (for all three series), the literary forms of the treatises in the series (for all three series), and the different implied audiences (for all three series). The most elementary of the three is the twelve (six in the manuscript tradition) book Questions and Answers on Genesis and Exodus that cover Gen 2:4–28:9 and Exod 6:2–30:10. As the title suggests, Philo used a question and answer format to write a running commentary on the biblical text. The questions are often formulaic, but demonstrate a close reading of the biblical text which is cited in the question. The answers typically introduce both literal and allegorical interpretations. Philo rarely used secondary or tertiary texts in these answers. While earlier Jewish authors such as Demetrius (FF 2 and 5) and Aristobulus (F 2) used the question and answer device within larger works, they did not write zetematic works. The closest literary parallel to Philo’s commentary series is the series of zetematic works which Plutarch composed. The pedagogical character of the format and the listing of multiple interpretations suggest that Philo’s Questions and Answers were written for beginning students in his school who needed to learn how to read the text closely as well as become familiar with the range of possible interpretations. The Allegorical Commentary shares some features in common with the Questions and Answers, but is profoundly different. Like the Questions and Answers these treatises use the question and answer technique in a running commentary. Unlike the Questions and Answers, the format is no longer explicit but is incorporated in a more complex form of exegesis. Literal readings are generally downplayed, although Philo sometimes includes them when he thinks they can contribute to the understanding of the text. The main focus, however, is on allegorical interpretations which are expanded through the introduction of secondary, or even tertiary, biblical texts (lemmata). While these expansions may give the treatises a meandering feel, in fact there is almost always a thematic unity that makes the treatise coherent. The scope is also different than in the QG and QE; the Allegorical Commentary provides a running commentary on Genesis 2:1–18:4 with some treatments of later texts in Genesis in the final treatises. Philo was by no means the first Jewish author to use allegory: earlier Jewish writers such as Aristobulus and Pseudo-Aristeas had used allegorical interpretation; however, they did not write allegorical commentaries. Philo’s allegorical commentaries are closer in form to commentaries in the philosophical tradition, e.g., the Platonic Anonymous Theaetetus Commentary, Plutarch’s On the Generation of the Soul in the Timaeus, and Porphyry’s

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On the Cave of Nymphs. Yet even here there are considerable differences; for example, Philo’s treatises have more thematic unity than his pagan counterparts. Philo also offered some hints that he saw a larger unity to his allegorical treatment of Genesis. He linked six of the treatises together with secondary prefaces. In particular, he linked four of the five treatises that dealt with the story of Noah together (Agr., Plant., Ebr., Sobr.). This suggests that Philo may have thought of the larger structure of the Allegorical Commentary in biographical terms: he devoted three treatises to Cain (Sacr., Det., Post.), five to Noah (Gig./Deus, Agr., Plant., Ebr. 1–2, Sobr.), and five to Abraham (Migr., Her., Congr., Fug., Mut.). Cain represented the embodiment of self-love; Noah, who represented justice or perfection, was part of Philo’s first triad of virtuous ancestors; and Abraham, who represented virtue through learning, was part of Philo’s second triad of ancestors. Philo prefaced these biographically oriented works with treatments on creation and the primeval history (Leg. 1–3 [originally 4 or 5 books], Cher.) and concluded it with a work on dreams that addresses multiple texts throughout Genesis (Somn. 1–2 [originally 5 books]). His work on Conf. is a transitional text moving from Noah to Abraham. The goal of this allegorical interpretation was the ascent of the soul or the experience of God achieved through virtue and contemplation. If the Questions and Answers were for beginning students, the Allegorical Commentary was most likely composed for advanced students or other exegetes in the Jewish community. It certainly places much greater demands on the reader, as any modern reader who has worked through these treatises can attest. The third series, the Exposition of the Law, is different yet. It is not a running commentary, but a systematic exposition of the entire Pentateuch. Unlike the Questions and Answers and Allegorical Commentary, the Exposition of the Law rarely cites the biblical text—except for an occasional word or phrase—but paraphrases or summarizes it and provides a commentary on the summary. The treatment may include both literal and allegorical readings and in some cases regularly alternates between them, especially in the biographies. The scope of the Exposition of the Law is also quite different: it extends beyond Genesis and Exodus to include the entire Torah. Philo wrote an introduction to the Exposition in the form of a biography in the two volume Life of Moses. The work is similar in function to Porphyry’s Life of Plotinus which introduces readers to the Enneads. Philo organized his understanding of the law in three parts (Praem. 1–3; cf. also Abr. 2–5; Mos. 2.45–47). The first part dealt with creation, demonstrating the harmony between the cosmos and the law (Opif.). The second part is the historical or biographical section that consists of biographies that show how the ancestors embodied the law before it was given to Moses (Abr., Ios. [the works on Isaac and Jacob are lost]). The third and most complex part is

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the legislative. Just like some later rabbis, Philo worked through the decalogue (Decal.) and then used each of the ten commandments as a heading to subsume the remaining legislation in the Torah (Spec. 1–4). Unlike the later rabbis, he added a series of appendices under the headings of virtues (Virt.). He brought the series to a conclusion in a treatise On Rewards and Punishments in direct imitation of the end of Deuteronomy. The series was probably intended for a broader audience—both Jews and interested pagan readers—that included but was not limited to the school. It may be that Philo offered public lectures at his school or in a house of prayer. If the three commentary series accentuate Philo’s role within the Jewish community, the last two groups of his treatises reflect his efforts to relate to the larger world. The philosophical works use Greek sources and philosophical genres to address some of the major philosophical issues Philo and his students confronted. So, he wrote two dialogues (Prov. 1–2, Anim.) that featured his nephew, Tiberius Julius Alexander; two discourses that examined a famous Stoic proposition (Prob. and the lost Improb.), a thesis that set out arguments pro and contra (Aet. 1 and 2 [lost]), and an arithmology (Num. [only extant as an Armenian fragment]). The biblical text recedes and is replaced by citations from non-Jewish authors. These were probably for advanced students in his school. The apologetic works were probably written—for the most part—in connection with the events of 38–41CE. They were designed to assist Philo in his efforts to represent the Jewish community to the authorities. He wrote a work that was probably intended to help him with the embassy (Hypoth. [only extant in two Greek fragments]), a treatise holding out exemplars of Judaism (Contempl. and a parallel treatment on the Essenes now lost), and a five-volume treatment of the mistreatment of the Jews by Roman authorities who were punished by God (Flacc., Legat. [the five volumes were probably 1. Introduction and Pilate; 2. Sejanus, 3. Flaccus, 4. Embassy, 5. Palinode]). These works were likely intended for non-Jews or Jews dealing with non-Jews who probably comprised the largest audience. This expansive corpus is the single most important source for our understanding of Second Temple Judaism in the diaspora. While some of the esoteric and philosophical aspects of his writings reflect a highly refined circle in Alexandria, the corpus as a whole preserves a wide range of exegetical and social traditions which enable us to reconstruct a number of beliefs and practices of Jews in the Roman empire. The difficulty that we face is the limited evidence from other Jewish communities. This can be partially solved by expanding the comparisons to early Christian writings which were heavily indebted to Jewish traditions. As is the case

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with virtually all Second Temple Jewish texts composed in Greek, Philo’s corpus was not preserved by Jews but by Christians who found his writings so irresistibly attractive that they gave him a post mortem conversion. In some Catenae he is actually called “Philo the bishop.” A number of important early Christian authors are deeply indebted to him: Clement of Alexandria, Origen, Didymus, Gregory of Nyssa, and Ambrose in particular. While there is no solid evidence to show that New Testament authors knew his writings, they certainly knew some of the same exegetical traditions that he attests. His writings therefore serve both as a witness to exegetical traditions known and used by first-century Christians and as a source for some second-century and later Christians. One of the factors that made Philo so attractive to Christians was the way that he combined Greek philosophy, especially Middle Platonism, with exegesis. The eclectic nature of his thought and the size of his corpus make his writings a particularly important source for our understanding of several Hellenistic philosophical traditions. The combination of Middle Platonism and Jewish exegesis also makes Philo important for the study of Gnosticism, especially for those scholars who argue that the second-century Christian Gnostic systems had significant antecedents in Jewish circles. It is remarkable that in spite of the obvious importance of these writings and their complexity, no series of commentaries has been devoted to them. The present series is designed to fill that void. Each commentary will offer an introduction, a fresh English translation, and a commentary proper. The commentary proper is organized into units/chapters on the basis of an analysis of the structure of each treatise. Each unit/chapter of the commentary will address the following concerns: the context and basic argument of the relevant section, detailed comments on the most important and difficult phrases, passages where Philo treats the same biblical text, the Nachleben of Philo’s treatment, and suggestions for further reading when appropriate. There will be some variation within the series to account for the differences in the genres of Philo’s works; however, readers should be able to move from one part of the corpus to another with ease. We hope that in this way these commentaries will serve the needs of both Philonists who lack sustained analyses of individual treatises and those scholars and students who work in other areas but consult Philo’s works. Most of the volumes in this series will concentrate on Philo’s biblical commentaries. It may seem strange to write and read a commentary on a commentary; however, it is possible to understand the second commentary to be an extended form of commentary on the biblical text as well. While Philo’s understanding of the biblical text is quite different from our own, it was based on a

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careful reading of the text and a solid grasp of Greek philosophy. His commentaries permit us to understand how one of the most influential interpreters of the biblical text in antiquity read the text. The fact that his reading is so different from ours is in part the fascination of reading him. He challenges us to enter into a different world and to see the text from another perspective. Gregory E. Sterling Yale Divinity School

Preface As we sat having lunch together in the staff club of Melbourne University in March 2007, I was asked by David Runia to complete a book on De vita contemplativa. David had consulted with Gregory Sterling, the general editor of the Philo commentary series, and they had felt I would be the most appropriate person to continue the work begun by the eminent Philonist, David Hay. It was a bittersweet honour. The honour is obvious: to be considered worthy of receiving the legacy of such a figure as David Hay was a great compliment, and I was touched. Then, there is the sense of responsibility: to write a commentary means there is an opportunity to address all the admirable research that has been done on this text by many scholars. It also provides me with a chance to outline my own understanding of the treatise in a format that will be widely disseminated. But this feeling was muted by a sense of loss, given David Hay’s special association with De vita contemplativa, and his importance to me in showing such gentle generosity in sharing his wisdom. David had been extremely helpful as I researched and wrote my book on this treatise, a study that focused on questions of women and gender (Taylor 2003). I had read his publications at the beginning of my study, and first met him in the SBL Philo session on De vita contemplativa in San Francisco, 1997, where I was told he was writing the first English commentary since that of Conybeare in 1895. David had been asked to write the commentary for De vita contemplativa at the initial meeting about the series in 1995. He had to finish a book on Colossians before he could begin working on this project: an Abingdon New Testament commentary that appeared in 2000, but during the late 1990s and early 2000s we emailed each other and he was clearly eager to make progress on his own work on Philo as I laboured on mine. In 2003 there was a session at the SBL on De vita contemplativa in which David shared his thinking on the commentary and delivered a paper on issues of interpretation in the text, which he sent to me as I was not able to attend. I was honoured when he reviewed my book in the Studia Philonica Annual 16 (2004), and eagerly awaited his commentary. We continued to email each other from time to time about critical points in the text, and I was always greatly encouraged that we saw so much in the same way, though at times we disagreed, of course, as well. His sudden death on August 25th, 2006 was a real shock, since I had lost my academic confidant in terms of a treatise we both cherished, a man whose opinion I valued greatly, and a man who on personal terms I liked and respected, for being the model of a scholar who avoided egotism and sought understanding with humility and careful study.

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So now, from 2007, it was up to me. The question that arose then was how to proceed, to do justice to David Hay’s work. I wondered if initially I might be a kind of editor, if there was a basic draft already completed. During our lunch together at the University of Melbourne, David Runia handed me a CD of material on the commentary he had saved from David Hay’s computer, and I am extremely grateful to David Runia for making this CD, which preserves and organizes so much of David Hay’s work. But the CD did not have a draft commentary as such. On this disk there is a file with 176 pages of commentary notes, but little written up in full. David Hay frequently has his initials, with the date, followed by ruminations on a section of text. In fact, at one point (on §§3–12) he has written: “Mdh 10/11/04—I am going to experiment today writing these draft notes on the computer rather than in longhand—does my brain flow as easily with the computer—which I think I used to draft the COL comm. (Colossians commentary), partly to save time[?].” This indicated that he had been writing draft notes longhand, and then written these up on the computer later. The file was not a draft commentary as such, and it included ephemera, such as items cut-and-pasted from the internet, but this document became very valuable to me in terms of what was sketched out, with personal reflections woven in. It showed, very interestingly, how he was developing his ideas and analysing the text. I felt then it would be possible to use these notes as the foundation of the commentary, building my own expansions and modifications into it. This would result in a co-authored piece. The CD also included a summary outline of the structure of the treatise neatly made by David Runia on the basis of David Hay’s article in the Peder Borgen Festschrift (Hay 2002), as well as a translation “pieced together from Nachlass of David Hay” by David Runia, missing only §§ 3–4 and 6. There was also a curriculum vitae, including all David Hay’s publications, and here—after the commentary—he had written, poignantly, “—to be finished by 2006.” In the SBL Annual Meeting Philo of Alexandria Group Session in Boston on 24th November, 2008 I was able to provide a very preliminary translation of the first part of the text, and a snippet of commentary. At this point I was still feeling my way into how to combine David Hay’s work and my own. In 2009 I was able to visit David’s widow, Mary, near Atlanta, Georgia. I am enormously grateful to Mary for her generosity and hospitality during this time, and I learnt so much more about David. I was able to spend hours working at David’s desk, uncovering his original handwritten material and notes, and Mary very kindly gave me books that have been invaluable in very many ways. David’s notes, poignantly, ran from April 2nd 1995 to 19 August, 2006, a week before he died, and these were not only full of interesting reflections, but also an idiosyncratic method of abbreviation, meaning that one has to crack the code before finding the treas-

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ure of David’s observations. On the 28th of May, 2005, touchingly, he wrote here: “what are my chief goals in writing VCC [De vita contemplativa commentary]? – to write an excellent commentary on a key Jewish treatise from antiquity – to show how it is important for, and relevant to … NT and ancient Judaism – to foster better Jewish-Christian understanding – to serve God—and not advance my own career – and yet to leave some worthwhile legacy for the future” On 21st January, 2006 he wrote: “How hard it often seems to make progress on VCC—and when I do do something—I forget it promptly.” With such personal comments I felt I became more of a friend of David’s than hitherto, and so very much hope the resulting work does do justice to him as a scholar and provides a fitting legacy. I well know that sense of needing a date for completion of a project, but many things can come in the way of the realization of such objectives. Like David, when this work on the commentary was given to me I too had other things to finish, and, with my new job at King’s College London and administrative duties on top, I was not able to turn my attention to it with the patience it deserved. Then numerous demands took precedence, and I also found myself ruminating more and more on the treatise and its interpretation. It was hard to “let go” when there was always something better to be said, and the scholarly literature kept building up the more I thought I was getting through it. I discovered how very interesting De vita contemplativa was to very many people. There is clearly no way of doing justice to the literature. Writing a commentary, I have learnt, requires an enormous amount of time. The first full draft was finished in 2015. But it also requires the time of the series editor Gregory Sterling to be able to engage with the drafts we produce, and he was not able to comment fully until September 2017, at which time I then had a new very full schedule of commitments. To write a commentary one needs ideally a model of academic life that allows large stretches of uninterrupted time in which the work is essentially open on one’s desk. This labour is in many ways suited to a type of old-style academic life that does not exist anymore, or rarely. In our age we are constantly bombarded with urgent tasks. Our emails deliver unexpected “to do” lists on a daily basis, our commitments grow ever longer, and the writing of a commentary can seem an expendable job, one that can be placed on one side as we struggle to meet more urgent deadlines. I am so reminded of what Philo himself said in Spec. 3.3 of being engulfed by “a great ocean of administrative cares, in which I am carried away and unable to swim.” I was then needed in personal terms, to support my aged mother, whose health greatly deteriorated at the end of 2018, and my life became one primarily focused on her care in New Zealand. While this was vital, it then created

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a bottleneck of delayed deadlines. It was only at the beginning of 2020 that I could return to the work. I made a determined effort to complete the commentary, interrupted then by a house move, and then finally by getting coronavirus (Covid-19). Given the contingencies of the virus, one of my first thoughts when I got the diagnosis was “I have to finish the commentary!” I spent my days of illness with the commentary, whenever I could manage, doing the final checks and edits. Finally, as I have recovered, at a time of tremendous change, it is done. Over the years it has been a particularly complex process because, while it is collaborative effort between myself and David Hay, it is without a living, current dialogue. On many occasions I have asked myself, “What would David say?” and muted points that I might have made more emphatically, or included points he made in his notes that I am not always so convinced about, but a collaboration will always have this kind of compromise. In the end, also, very much has had to be done solitarily, as I have added and expanded greatly on what David originally noted, or ran with new ideas I had about the text. David’s notes have enabled me to critique my own previous work on the subject, and I have at times arrived at a different view to that of “Taylor 2003.” For example, in my previous work (Taylor 2003: 136–153) I suggest that the Therapeutae might be an example of ‘extreme allegorizing’ (see Migr. 86–93). David never agreed with me on this, and I am quite sure now I was wrong. They do not fail to honour the Sabbath literally; rather, they are the prime example of people who honour the Sabbath extremely well, as Lutz Doering (1999; 2008b) has argued. They follow a different calendar to that normatively followed at this time (Taylor 2003, 154–170), which confuses the picture, but their honouring of the seventh and seven-times-seventh days is the foundation of their entire life and they keep the day’s sanctity materially as well as spiritually. I am certainly not so sure of some other proposals I made previously, and I have discovered so many more new facets of the treatise that allow me to have a far richer, deeper understanding of the work than previously. If only David and I could have talked more face to face, so much more could have evolved in terms of our thinking. In this commentary, therefore, I use as much of the work already done by David Hay as possible, synthesizing his work with my own previous work, modifying and updating both in the light of our “collaboration” and recent scholarship. I also go boldly into new realms and have written much more than I expected at the outset. Where there are disagreements between us that I think would not have been resolved by discussion, I hope that my own analysis is not unduly privileged, but ultimately I have been left with the last word and I very much hope David would not feel too aggrieved by my choices.

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I have not attempted to show the seams between my work and that of David, since this would be unduly cumbersome to the reader. My goal overall is to present a commentary that has clarity, readability and depth (without undue density), and to ensure that the goals of the commentary series are adhered to appropriately. This work is also a tribute to David Hay, whose labours on behalf of Philo over many years have boosted the Alexandrian’s profile in the scholarly community on many fronts. It is a loss to those interested in Philo that David is no longer present among us. In terms of the translation, while David Hay partly completed a draft of his own version (appearing in Hay 2013) and I have also published my own partial and rather loose (in places) translation (Taylor 2003, 349–358), it has seemed to me that—given the subtleties and complexities of Philo’s text—it would be good to make a fresh start. Neither of us arrived at an altogether satisfactory translation. I do not think that David himself in any way considered his translation a finished piece, since he would have polished it much more. I am painfully aware of errors of translation in my own previous work, and I take some small comfort (or perhaps Schadenfreude) in spotting the errors of others; all this shows that a fair amount of humility is needed in presenting a translation of Philo today. The translation here aims to be as close to the Greek text as possible, avoiding the paraphrasing tendency that was common in the work of Colson and Conybeare, while also taking some licence in order to create decent and accessible English, suitable to modern ways of speaking. I keep to a slightly old fashioned style aimed at indicating that we are dealing with a formal text in ancient Greek, with its complexities of language and structure, ambiguities and creativities, since accuracy tends to require that, yet avoid too much cumbersome literalness, for example in regard to the words μέν … δέ (“on the one hand … on the other,” a favourite construction for Philo) or γάρ (“for,” which is hardly ever used in this way today in modern English). When this translation is read, an observant reader will see all the cases where such words need to be inferred for understanding. This commentary series is based on a premise that Philo should be more accessible to readers who do not necessarily know Greek. However, this commentary must speak also to those who do know the language, often very well. For the Greek text, occasionally, I have chosen to follow Colson’s choices, or the suggestions of Conybeare (1895), rather than those of the Cohn-Wendland (C-W) edition and therefore the translation needs to be read with the textual notes (see pp. 90–96) and not simply against either the C-W or Loeb Greek texts. One of the issues is that the standard Greek text of Philo (C-W) is itself in need of revision, and the most popular Greek-English versions of Philo’s works—the Loeb series—have already promoted some explicit textual inter-

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ventions. At several places in this commentary it has been impossible for me to agree with the C-W reconstruction, or even the Loeb. I hope that those without Greek will not be put off by discussions of the text or meanings. The commentary itself uses the English translation as a grounding for explanation and discussion, but, given the technical aspects of the Greek, it seems very important to include enough about these to satisfy Greek readers. In the translation notes on the Greek wording, I aim to speak to those with a beginner’s knowledge, so that they can unpack the text for themselves. For non-Greek readers, some key Greek terms are given in English transliteration where they occur in commentary discussion, but Greek is not transliterated when there are technical aspects of grammar and translation choice. Most importantly, I have not followed exactly the transposition made in the C-W edition in regard to sections 53–55 and propose a slightly different alternative, conscious of the unease of Colson (PLCL 9:144–145, n. 1) and others. Unfortunately, the SBL Philo commentary series does not allow inclusion of the Greek text, which would have made these choices and the subsequent translation more obvious, and the reader is asked to consult both C-W and Colson’s Greek text in the Loeb edition, which is most freely available for study. I had begun this process of re-translation when my associate at King’s College London, Piotr Ashwin-Siejkowski, suggested to me that a Philo reading group might be a good idea. Thanks to this brilliant prompt, a small “Philo lunch” group was instituted in the autumn of 2012, and over the next year and more we slowly made our way through the text of De vita contemplativa, tackling all the intricacies of Philo’s wording collectively with great care, and not without humour. This was a labour that was also a great pleasure, and I am enormously grateful to all those who came along to this group, particularly to the expert linguist Carol Downer, who unpacked grammar somewhat obscure to everyone else—including Colson or Conybeare—on several occasions. I am also grateful to Sami Yli-Karjanmaa and Troels Engberg-Pedersen, who have suggested corrections, but most especially to David Runia, who went through the translation with a very careful eye. I hope they will understand if I have not followed all suggestions made, but sometimes stylistically I have had my own reasons for adopting a reading that may seem to omit, add to or replace certain words in the Greek. I have tried to explain these reasons. In what results, the final decisions are entirely my own and I take responsibility for any remaining errors. That said, any translation of Philo cannot do justice to the original. The language is very rich in figurative and cultural resonances. The vocabulary Philo uses is wide and often unusual. He seems to relish ambiguities and double meanings, tantalizing us with allusions, asides, word-plays, random thoughts

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and ruminations based on own religious thinking. His technical terms in the treatise presuppose a deep knowledge of not only philosophy but the whole spectrum of Graeco-Roman culture that only the most educated and intellectual in his own society—let alone ours—would understand, and at every turn there are biblical associations and allusions to his wider philosophical writing. In our “Philo Lunch” group we noticed rhythms, repetitions and alliterations, which could at times affect word order at the mercy of perfect linguistic clarity, much like poetry. This overarching “poetic” orality of Philo’s language became obvious, and I am thankful for this insight provided by such group work in which Philo’s Greek is read out aloud. Philo’s language and grammar can be complex; he was clearly writing his treatises to dazzle the highest echelons of the literati as well as fellow philosophers, with whom he was in debate. To make such work accessible, and yet true to Philo, is not easy, and any translation can only be—ultimately—an approximation that invariably does not communicate the richness of Philo’s literary skill. As noted above, in the notes following the translation I have included textual discussion, but for the translation itself there are sometimes discussions within the commentary section, since choices affect interpretation. I would also like to sound a gong of great appreciation to the series editor, Gregory Sterling. This commentary has benefitted enormously from his close reading, critique and suggestions. These have been extremely valuable as I have finalized the text. His vast awareness of the Philonic corpus and the relevant literature is a great treasure, and I appreciate the time he has taken to improve this work. My sense is that there will still be omissions in terms of the inclusion of all the many scholars who have contributed to understanding this treatise, and I apologize for these in advance. One must also by necessity be selective for the sake of brevity. It should be said that this commentary is historical, rather than philosophical, in emphasis; Philonists who are philosophers may find then the philosophical elements are skipped over quite lightly, with rather too much on historical context. Since I am myself a historian of Second Temple Judaism and Christian origins, I provide material focusing on my area of expertise. David Hay’s key expertise, beyond Philo, was in the New Testament, and many of the New Testament explorations are his. Before the commentary proper, I provide an extended discussion of aspects of the treatise that greatly affect its interpretation. This began as a short overview, more in line with other volumes in the series, but has grown considerably, partly because of the great interest shown in De vita contemplativa from scholars in Jewish, Christian and Classical Studies, from philologists to historians, which have resulted in numerous propositions about its genre and purpose, or

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where the mysterious group described in the treatise might fit within ancient Alexandrian Judaism, the history of the synagogue, or Hellenistic meals. There have been serious questions raised about whether the group even existed. I use this opportunity to address such questions and topics in contemporary scholarship and, hopefully, clarify aspects that have caused some confusion (including my own). I am grateful to have had this opportunity. Joan E. Taylor April 2020

Acknowledgments No work of scholarship is entirely independent. We all use the work of others in our assessments, for our information, and for our struggles to refine our thinking as we journey towards the common goal of understanding. We are indebted to the scholars of the past, and to many colleagues in the present, some with whom we agree and some with whom we disagree. In the case of this commentary, I am very grateful to David Runia, who first put his trust in me and invited me to write it, as we sat over lunch at the University of Melbourne, and also to Gregory Sterling, who has gently and patiently prodded me over the years. I am grateful to them also for their careful critique and support. Most of all I am indebted to David Hay, for reasons that have been explained in the Preface. I cite him here as a collaborator, though sadly our collaboration has been done without the lively conversations that are the stimulus for so much of what we do as scholars. Nevertheless, his great learning and mass of ruminations, notes and resources have provided an enormous help to me as I have gone on with this work. I thank his widow Mary for her wonderful hospitality, and for so generously giving me his papers and books on De vita contemplativa and only hope I have done justice to his memory. I thank also David’s daughter Cameron for helping me with finding his notes and for cracking the code. I thank the participants of the “Philo Lunch” in the Department of Theology and Religious Studies at King’s College London, through 2012 and 2013, for helping me go through the translation of the treatise with exceptional and meticulous care: Carol Downer, Piotr Ashwin-Siejkowski, Sarah Casson, Michelle Fletcher, Mina Monier, Philip Harris and Janet Fyffe. Any translation errors are of course my own responsibility, and this translation is a result of my own judgement in terms of appropriate word use, but I greatly appreciated the excellent discussion about meanings we had collectively in our enjoyable sessions. Carol’s Greek expertise in fine points of grammar was a source of much illumination to all and the important resources brought along by Piotr were particularly appreciated. As mentioned also in the Preface, I thank also Troels Engberg-Pedersen, Sami Yli-Karjanmaa and especially David Runia, for their valuable corrections and suggestions and Ildi Clarke for the excellent index. I have had the chance to present papers based on sections of the commentary, and reflections on writing it, in various fora, and I am very grateful for these opportunities. They include a number of SBL Meeting sessions, a well as seminars at Oxford University, Durham University and the University of Helsinki. I thank John Barclay, Francis Watson, Martin Goodman, Sarah Pearce, and

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Jutta Jokiranta in particular. In addition, for various comments, suggestions, useful bibliography, unpublished papers, arguments and help I thank: Sean Adams, Hindy Najman, Ellen Birnbaum, Jutta Leonhardt-Balzer, Pura Nieto Hernández, James Royse, Wayne Martin, Lutz Doering, and—fundamentally— the SBL Philo Group, who are a treasure buried in the field of the Annual Meeting I have much appreciated over the years.

Abbreviations The abbreviations of biblical books and ancient texts follow The SBL Handbook of Style, 2nd edition. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2014, as modified in line with The Studia Philonica Annual (see Vol. XXIII, 2011, 217–222). Abr. Aet. Agr. Anim. Cher. Conf. Congr. Contempl. Decal. Deo Det. Deus Ebr. Flacc. Fug. Gig. Her. Hypoth. Ios. Leg. 1, 2, 3 Legat. Migr. Mos. 1, 2 Mut. Opif. Plant. Post. Praem. Prob. Prov. 1, 2 QE 1, 2 QG 1, 2, 3, 4 Sacr.

De Abrahamo De aeternitate mundi De agricultura De animalibus De cherubim De confusione linguarum De congressueru ditionis gratia De vita contemplativa De decalogo De Deo Quod deterius potiori insidari soleat Quod Deus sit immutabilis De ebrietate In Flaccum De fuga et inventione De gigantibus Quis rerum divinarum heres sit Hypothetica De Iosepho Legum allegoriae I, II, III Legatio ad Gaium De migratione Abrahami De vita Mosis I, II De mutatione nominum De opificio mundi De plantatione De posteritate Caini De praemiis et poenis Quod omnis probus liber sit De providentia I, II Quaestiones et solutiones in Exodum I, II Quaestiones et solutiones in Genesin I, II, III, IV De sacrificiis Abelis et Caini

abbreviations Sobr. Somn. 1, 2 Spec. 1, 2, 3, 4 Virt.

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De sobrietate De somniis I, II De specialibus legibus I, II, III, IV De virtutibus

Other Abbreviations ANRW

BAR BAIAS BASOR BDAG

BZNW CBQ CIJ CPJ CUP C-W

DJD DSD HTR HUCA IG IGR IEJ IES Jastrow JBL JJS JNES

Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt: Geschichte und Kultur Roms im Spiegel der neueren Forschung. Edited by Hildegard Temporini and Wolfgang Haase. Berlin, 1972– Biblical Archaeology Review Bulletin of the Anglo-Israel Archaeological Society Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Bauer, Walter, Frederick W. Danker, W.F. Arndt, and F.W. Gingrich. Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature. 3d ed. Chicago, 1999. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft Catholic Biblical Quarterly Corpus Inscriptionum Iudaicarum Corpus papyrorum judaicorum. Edited by Victor Tcherikover. 3 vols. Cambridge, 1957–1964. Cambridge University Press Philonis Alexandrini Opera Quae Supersunt Vol. 6. Edited by Leopold Cohn and Paul Wendland. Berlin: George Reimer.; reprinted Berlin: De Gruyter, 1962. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert Dead Sea Discoveries Harvard Theological Review Harvard Union College Annual Inscriptiones Graecae Inscriptiones Graecae ad res Romanus pertinentes. Paris: Leveux, 1911– 1927. Israel Exploration Journal Israel Exploration Society Jastrow, Marcus. A Dictionary of the Targumim, the Talmud Babli and Yerushalmi, and the Midrashic Literature. 2d ed. New York, 1903. Journal of Biblical Literature Journal of Jewish Studies Journal of Near Eastern Studies

xxviii JQR JRS JSJ

abbreviations

Jewish Quarterly Review Journal of Roman Studies Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic and Roman Periods JSOT Journal for the Study of the Old Testament JSS Journal of Semitic Studies LCL The Loeb Classical Library LSJ Liddell, Henry George, Robert Scott, H. Stuart Jones, A Greek-English Lexicon. 9th ed. with revised supplement. Oxford, 1996. LXX The Greek Septuagint NT Novum Testamentum NTS New Testament Studies OGIS Orientis graeci inscriptiones selectae. Edited by Wilhelm Dittenberger. 2 vols. Leipzig, 1903–1905. OUP Oxford University Press Payne Smith Payne Smith, J., A Compendious Syriac Dictionary. Oxford: Clarendon, 1903, based on the Thesaurus syriacus. Edited by R. Payne Smith. Oxford, 1879–1901. PG Patrologia Graeca, ed. Migne. Paris: Migne, 1844–. Patrologia graeca [= Patrologiae cursus completus: Series graeca]. Edited by Jacques-Paul Migne. 162 vols. Paris, 1857–1886. PGL Patristic Greek Lexicon. Edited by G.W.H. Lampe. Oxford, 1968. PLCL Philo: The Loeb Classical Library RB Revue biblique RQ Revue de Qumran SBL Society of Biblical Literature SPhA The Studia Philonica Annual USQR Union Seminary Quarterly Review VC Vigiliae Christianae VT Vetus Testamentum ZAW Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft ZDPV Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins

Figures 1 2 3

Philo in the 9th-century Sacra Parallela, Cod. Gr. 923, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Paris 48 The Divided Space of the Sanctuary—Option A 202 The Divided Space of the Sanctuary—Option B 203

Introduction 1

Philo and the Context of the Treatise

i The Historical Context It is vital to understand an author in their context before any assessment of their work, in order to avoid any incongruous assumptions. Philo of Alexandria was one of the most erudite and prolific Jewish thinkers of antiquity (see for introductions Goodenough 1963; Sandmel 1979; Morris 1987; Hadas-Lebel 2012; Seland 2014; Niehoff 2018). As a member of a rich and important family (Appelbaum 2018), and an eminent leader of the Jewish community in Alexandria during the late 30s and 40s CE (Birnbaum 2004), Philo was in a position to obtain accurate information about politics, people and life within his city, and his city was one of the great intellectual centres of the Graeco-Roman world, a trading hub where East met West, where Buddhists met exponents of the Second Sophistic (Dio Chrysostom, Alex. 40), where philosophy and science might be discussed in the halls of the Museon, and every text deemed important was in the huge, astonishing Library, with its “daughter library” at the Serapeon (Sly 1996, 37–41). In this city, as described by such authors as Strabo (Geogr. 17.1. 1–10) or Diodorus Siculus (Bibl. 17.52.6), there were all the institutions of a Hellenistic city, multiple harbours for trade, fabulous intellectual centres in the Museon and Library, the greatest architecture in the world—represented by the iconic lighthouse—a grid street plan with wide boulevards, and a plethora of temples claimed the allegiance of the citizens, from those housing ancient Egyptian cults fused with Hellenism, in the cult of Serapis, to Hellenistic cults fused with Ptolemaic ruler-worship, in the cult of Dionysus. Focused on these cults were devotees and priesthoods who maintained their sacra and the holiness, often following regimens of exclusions for the sake of periodic or permanent vows. This was a city of fusions of science, philosophy and religion, and of different peoples, among which there was a sizeable Jewish population. However, despite all this, Alexandria at the time of Philo was not a city of peaceful intellectual pursuits, happy business enterprise and co-operation founded on Hellenistic cultural values. Established by Alexander the Great in 332BCE, it had had approximately 18 royal rulers, some more short-lived than others, beginning with Ptolemy I Soter (303–282BCE), founder of the library (Eusebius, Hist. eccles. 5.8.11) and ending with the unfortunate queen Cleopatra VII, who famously took her own life after her alliance with Mark Antony ended with the defeat of the Battle of Actium in 31 BCE. After this, as part of

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2021 | doi:10.1163/9789004439238_002

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the Roman Empire, Alexandria was under the administrative and military control of a Roman Prefect. Distinct from the rest of the country, it was Alexandria ad Aegyptum: ‘Alexandria-by-Egypt’ (Prob. 125; Legat. 250; Ptolemy, Geogr. 4.5.56; Strabo, Geogr. 5.17; P. Oxy. 1.35; see Lewis 1970; Fraser 1972; Sly 1996; Huzar 1988; Ashwin-Siejkowski 2017). Jews had for centuries enjoyed privileges in Alexandria that permitted them to have a certain amount of legal autonomy, including their own administrative and legal authorities under a Jewish alabarch (Flacc. 78–80). They had come to the city as mercenaries for the earliest king, Ptolemy 1 Soter (so Josephus, C. Ap. 1.186–189; A.J. 12.8), and served also in militias for or against various Ptolemaic rulers (A.J. 13.62–73, 353–364; B.J. 1.33; 7.421–436; C. Ap. 2.49–56; see Barclay 1996, 35–41). For example, in 55 BCE the Jewish militia aided Ptolemy XII Auletes, who was affiliated with the Roman commander Gabinius (B.J. 1.175; A.J. 14.98–99). Under Cleopatra VII, or her co-regent brother Ptolemy XIII, the Jewish militia acted in support of Roman interests, aiding Caesar in 48 BCE (B.J. 1.187; A.J. 14.127–132), and they were rewarded with certain privileges from him (A.J. 14.188–189; C. Ap. 2.37). After Actium, Augustus apparently thanked the Jews for services against Cleopatra VII (C. Ap. 2.60) and guaranteed Jews’ special status and privileges (Flacc. 50; 74; A.J. 14.188). This loyal service rendered to both Caesar and Augustus is indicated in Philo’s writings, in which he himself indicates loyalty to Augustus and his family (e.g., Legat. 143–158; Flacc. 74; see Huzar 1988, 635–636; Pearce 2012). But good relations with some Ptolemaic rulers and Rome did not spell harmony with all the Graeco-Egyptians (Hellenes) of Alexandria, especially if they had supported rival rulers. In acting for one Ptolemaic ruler against another Jews would already have created enemies, and anger at Jews boiled over in terrible attacks in the year 38–39CE, described in detail by Philo in his treatise In Flaccum, where the Roman governor A. Avillius Flaccus is accused of mishandling the situation, and also in Legatio ad Gaium, where Philo describes a resulting embassy to the emperor Gaius Caligula, in 39–41 CE, in which Philo and other Jews presented their case (as best they could) to the emperor while the leading Graeco-Egyptians of Alexandria—such as Apion and Isidorus— did likewise. In a collection of writings known as The Acts of the Pagan Martyrs (Acta Alexandrinorum) (see Musirillo 1954; Harker 2008), which tells the story from the Hellene perspective, we get a sense of their animosity: Jews, in this text, are oppressors in league with Roman authorities, set on violently oppressing the Hellenes, from the time of Claudius to Septimius Severus (CPJ 2, 152, 55–107 nos. 154–159). Thus, Alexandrian society was riven by deep divides, and Jews found themselves scorned, ridiculed and attacked by gangs of the Graeco-Egyptian popu-

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lace. In Flaccum tells a historical narrative of a horrific situation in this foment of different ethnicities, religions and values (see Box 1979; Smallwood 1981, 220– 255; Alston 1997b; van der Horst 2003; Gambetti 2009; Yoder 2012). When Alexandrians paraded a mentally disabled man, Carabas, as a parody for the Jewish king Agrippa, and then attacked and killed Jews, Flaccus did nothing, and the popular accusation that the Jews were actually anti-emperor (i.e., anti-Roman), despite their ostensible support and privileges, led to the burning and desecration of synagogues (Flacc. 32–40; Josephus, A.J. 18.257–258). Flaccus revoked the Jews’ citizen status, placing them in the class of resident foreigners (Flacc. 53–54; Legat. 194, 363; Josephus, B.J. 2.487–488) and moved them off to just one area of the city (Δ) when they had formerly lived in all five sectors, though principally in two (Flacc. 8; cf. Josephus, B.J. 2.494–498; C. Ap. 1. 33–35, Gambetti 2009, 13–21; Schwartz 2012). When Flaccus was removed, and Votrasius Pollio was briefly installed as the new governor, Philo was one of five men selected to represent the Jewish community in the embassy to the emperor Gaius Caligula (Legat. 370), c. 39 CE, to face off the alternative reality presented by the Hellenes. Josephus describes how Philo, “not ignorant of philosophy” led the delegation (Josephus, A.J. 18.259). This delegation, which involved a long stay in Rome, is recorded by Philo himself in the Legatio ad Gaium. Apion, a great Homeric scholar, a man perceived as being full of his own self-importance (Pliny, Nat. Praef. 25), was leader of the Graeco-Egyptian side. Philo was an obvious choice for the Jewish one. An eminent philosopher, Philo was also the brother of the Jewish alabarch, Gaius Julius Alexander (A.J. 18.259, CPJ 2, 420a, 420b; see Evans 1995; Sterling 2017). Alexander was immensely wealthy, so much so that he leant money to Cypros, the wife of the client king Julius Herod Agrippa I (A.J. 18.159–160) and managed Mark Antony’s wife Antonia’s estates (A.J. 19.276, 20.100). His son Marcus Julius would marry Berenice, the daughter of Agrippa I (A.J. 19.276–277). Another son, Tiberius Julius Alexander, would later become Roman procurator of Judaea and then Egypt (Burr 1955; Demougin 1992, 583–586). The very name of Gaius Julius Alexander indicates Roman citizenship (and by implication Philo’s). Philo could stand up to Apion as both a master of philosophy and a man of reputation, from a very good, well-connected and wealthy family. But the stakes were high: not only was the fate of the Jews of Alexandria in his hands, his brother Alexander was imprisoned in Rome by Gaius “in anger” (Josephus, A.J. 19.276). The circumstances that led to this are unknown, but his imprisonment might explain why another member of the delegation was Alexander’s son Tiberius (Anim. 54), and men with youth and vigour on their side: Philo indicates that all the others in the delegation were far younger and less educated than he was

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(Legat. 182). For their identities, apart from Tiberius, in Legatio Philo mentions how he and others went on an embassy to Gaius and presented their case (Legat. 349–372, and see Josephus, A.J. 18.257–260), but he does not here define who was with him in the party. They are simply “we” (e.g., Legat. 178– 183). Clearly, the deputation was a failure. Gaius demanded from Jews that they worship him as a god and accused them of impiety and treason for not doing so (Legat. 8–113; 162), and was more impressed by the leader of the GraecoEgyptians, Apion (Legat. 180–198, 349–372; Josephus, A.J. 18.259–260; Eusebius, Hist. eccles. 2.5.2–5), against whose work Josephus would write a heated refutation some 50 years later (Contra Apionem). Philo concludes Legatio still waiting for a final decision from the emperor, and subsequent events are not told (at least in extant form) by either Philo or Josephus (Legat. 368–372, see Smallwood 1961, 27). Philo had to wait until Gaius was assassinated and replaced by Claudius before Alexander was released (in 41CE). The accession of Claudius, though a friend to Alexander, did not spell peace in Alexandria. From Josephus we learn that rioting erupted again on the streets of the city and it appears that deputations were quickly sent to Claudius (Josephus, A.J. 19.278; CPJ 2.153, ll. 90–92). Either Philo again travelled to Rome in this second deputation (as recorded in work that Eusebius used in Hist. eccles. 2.18.8), or else he was still in Rome when Gaius was assassinated and he therefore went in the second deputation to the new emperor (Harker 2008, 10– 21). Niehoff (2018) importantly sees Philo as remaining in Rome throughout the period 39–41 CE. Indeed, he could hardly have left while awaiting the emperor’s decision; he may even have stayed longer. This second deputation to the new emperor was much more successful than the first, though not entirely. As a result of this, Claudius issued decrees on the status of Jews in Alexandria and elsewhere (Josephus, A.J. 19.280–291; CPJ 2.153) granting Jews civic and religious rights, but with the proviso that they should show toleration and co-operation, as if this was an inherent problem. This decree is essentially preserved in a letter dated 10 November, 41 CE, apparently published by the new Roman governor L. Aemilius Rectus, giving Jews key rights—but not citizenship—with a warning to Jews not to disrupt athletic contests, or look for reinforcements from “Syria [Palaestina]” or elsewhere in Egypt (P. London 1912 = CPJ 2.153, ll. 23–25, 85–95). They are in “a city not their own”. The content of this letter demonstrates that the Hellenes had successfully convinced the emperor that Jews were a socially disruptive force, and that Jews elsewhere, particularly in Judaea, had come to Alexandria to help their troubled compatriots. Alexandria would in fact remain a place seething with incipient violence.

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Claudius seems to have adopted a mediating position, perhaps for the sake of a truce. This truce was not particularly secure. According to Josephus (B.J. 2.100, 290–298; 387, 489–497; 7.409–419), about 25 years later some 50,000 Jews were killed under the then Roman governor Tiberius Julius Alexander—tragically Philo’s very own nephew, mentioned in two of his works (Anim.; Prov.), who had been in Rome with him. Later, in 70CE, Alexander would join Titus in besieging Jerusalem (Josephus, B.J. 2.220, 490–497; 5.45–46; A.J. 20.100–103). A short time later, Josephus himself indicates that pro-Roman Jewish authorities in Egypt handed over renegade Judaean fighters to the Romans (B.J. 7.409– 420). Nevertheless, those less friendly to Rome must have been a part of the Jewish population, and they would grow stronger; in 115–117CE Jews in Egypt revolted against Rome, and the crisis became so terrible in the wake of the socalled Kitos (Quietus) Revolt that most of the Jewish population of Alexandria was driven away or killed (Eusebius, Hist. eccles. 4.2.1–2; Cassius Dio, Rom. hist. 68.32.1–2; see Modrzejewski 1995, 198–205). The Jewish community itself was then not homogenous in its attitude to Rome, but neither was “Rome” homogenous. Even among an elite Jewish family with friends in Rome, the imperial rule of Gaius Caligula was by no means one that they supported; being pro-Roman invariably meant taking sides in the power plays of Rome itself. This has been well explored in the study by Maren Niehoff (2018, 47–68), which delineates how Philo negotiates two emperors during his time in Rome. This Roman context forms the background to Philo’s treatise, De vita contemplativa. The situation of the treatise is not explicitly described within it, but the general circumstances surrounding the second deputation to Claudius, in the wake of Gaius’s assassination (A.J. 19.278; CPJ 153: ll. 90–92), would provide a likely context (Taylor 2003: 39–44). We can therefore date it around 41 CE. As Niehoff (2011b; 2018) has well defined, it forms part of a body of work that deals with philosophical topics, but in a form that is highly Stoic and concerned with the actual. De vita contemplativa is part of the Exposition of the Law, different from the Allegorical Commentary treatises of pre-Rome Philo. This reflects a very different audience, more Graeco-Roman than Alexandrian, and demonstrates how much Rome affected Philo. This context becomes clearer when we consider aspects of the literary features of the treatise. ii The Literary Context: Countering Chaeremon Amid both the quest for knowledge, virtue and philosophical excellence and terrible inter-ethnic troubles of 39–41CE, Philo wrote his philosophical treatises (Anim.; Hypoth.; Prob.; Prov.; Aet; Contempl. see Niehoff 2018, 69–90), primarily for non-Jews, aware of opposition, determined to show how Juda-

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ism excelled all in its piety, righteousness and philosophical brilliance. In De vita contemplativa and its foregoing (lost) companion piece he extolled those who were exemplary within his own tradition, pointing first (in the lost work) to the Essenes of Syria Palaestina, who represented the Stoic ideal of an active life (Contempl. 1), and then to his local contemporaries in the context of Alexandrian Judaism, a group usually known as the Therapeutae: ascetic philosophers, engaged in allegorical exegesis, living in a small community outside the city on the shores of Lake Mareotis. He did this as Apion (Josephus, A.J. 18.257–259) and his associates who directly opposed him in the embassy to Gaius (such as Isidorus: Flacc. 20; Legat. 355), could write that Jews worshipped a golden ass’s head in their Temple in Jerusalem (Josephus, C. Ap. 2.80, 114), that their word “Sabbath” derived from the Egyptian word for venereal disease (C. Ap. 2.21), that annually they kidnapped a Hellene, fed him up, killed and ate him, while vowing enmity towards all Hellenes (C. Ap. 2.89–96), that they fomented sedition against the emperor and Rome (C. Ap. 2.68) and that they “have not produced any admirable men (θαυμαστοὺς ἄνδρας), such as inventors of certain technical advances or those transmitting wisdom … in the likes of Socrates, Zeno and Cleanthes” (C. Ap. 2.135, and see 148). The latter accusation is particularly pertinent to what Philo is doing in the two treatises, both lost and extant, both representing Stoic concepts of the philosophical life: the one (on the Essenes) providing an example for the active, or practical, life and the other (on the Therapeutae) an example for the contemplative. De vita contemplativa describes people who truly are “admirable men”: self-controlled, philosophical, intellectual, musical. The treatise begins with the recognition that these people are so stunning it could strike one dumb (Contempl. 1). Philo states outright that examples of such figures as Anaxagoras and Democritus that “Greece has admired” (Ἑλλὰς ἐθαύμασεν) are inferior to the people he describes, who are more admirable (θαυμασιώτεροι) than they are (Contempl. 16). According to Philo these admirable “men” (Contempl. 1, 29, 78) live a fairly solitary life, mostly spending their days reclusively in small huts studying and interpreting scripture in accordance with an ancient allegorical method, composing music, praying. On the Sabbaths they meet together for a discourse, and a meal—listening, eating and drinking with the utmost dignity and moderation—and every 49th eve (Sabbath of Sabbaths)—which is a festive event celebrating the Passover (= The Crossing of the Sea, Exod 34)—they also engage in entranced sacred singing and dancing during all night celebrations. They then greet the dawn of the 50th new day with prayers facing the sun and go back to their private huts. Their regimen is strict yet balanced. Their lives are a perfect illustration of philosophical excellence.

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In the struggle for such philosophical excellence, Philo’s idealizing portrayal in De vita contemplativa describes the life of pre-eminent Jews, true disciples of Moses, in order to show how in Judaism overall there was not only an example of “admirable men,” but people who would put even Socrates to shame. This is not simply a eulogy to people Philo happens to admire; it is a highly polemical piece, mindful of the struggle of Jews in Alexandria at a time of enormous social tension, full of sniping at those Hellenes who suppose they are living lives of piety when they are plainly not. Apion’s horrific misrepresentations are implicitly dismissed. A Roman context is pointed to already by internal features of the treatise in which Roman concepts of the “Greek Other” are used freely to construct the opposing party (Niehoff 2010b; 2018, 87). The absurd “Egyptian Other”, at least in regard to its animal worship (Contempl. 8–9), was a standard motif among Romans (Smelik and Hemelrijk 1984; Pearce 2007). The primary audience is clearly not composed of Alexandrians, either Jewish or Graeco-Egyptian, since the administrative districts of Egypt, the “nomes”, are described as something to be introduced to people unfamiliar with them (Contempl. 21; Taylor 2003: 43), as Porphyry would do (Abst. 4.9), writing in Rome in the 3rd century. This is not to say that Philo could not well have had as a secondary audience Jews at home in Alexandria, because there are elements of the work that could be used to urge them towards a contemplative lifestyle (see Stefanut 2017). Nevertheless, the primary audience cannot have been Jewish, since the concept of the Sabbath is explained (Contempl. 30, 32, 35–36, 65) and we are told the story of the crossing of the Red Sea and the singing of choirs as not part of a common, shared tradition, but as something new (Contempl. 86–88). The Therapeutae are “those of our people who have embraced the contemplative life” (Contempl. 58), forming a sub-group of the “us” that stands over against a different, implied “you.” There is an assumption of an oral delivery to an audience that needs to be convinced of his case, the case of the Jews, over against an opposing case presented by the exponents of Graeco-Egyptian models of excellence. Niehoff (2018, 6, 151) has proposed that Philo actively engaged in speaking in private salons in Rome, where there was an audience eager to hear philosophical talks from visiting experts. Philo’s language is full of indications that an oral delivery is in view. To some degree this is conventional, but we need to recognize here that this is a written record of what was conceptualized as an oral discourse. At the start (Contempl. 1), Philo mentions that he has “discussed” the Essenes, and “will now also say” something on those who embrace the contemplative life, though “even though the most capable speaker will be exhausted” in the description of all the virtue of these people, and the language of speaking is found also in Contempl. 10, “I speak not of physical sight but sight of

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the soul”; Contempl. 14, “lest I say the action of men whom Greece has admired was ‘mad’”; Contempl. 40, “I wish also to speak of their common meetings”; Contempl. 71: “there is no slave, as I said.” The opposite of speech—silence—is found in Contempl. 1: “the extraordinary virtue of these men must not become a cause of speechlessness”; Contempl. 63: “I remain silent about the creations of the myths and the double-bodied ones.” As he envisages himself speaking, so too he imagines an audience: Philo inserts an anticipated sceptical audience reaction in Contempl. 73 and 75, but he also composes a confident presentation that does not bow to his audience but rather expects them to be alongside him by the end of his convincing rhetoric. Philo shows considerable expertise in using rhetoric (Alexandre 1999), and this treatise shows him at his best. His finishing flourish here, defining the people in question as reaching the pinnacle of virtue and those who have achieved happiness, seems to anticipate a positive reaction. To end with the word happiness (εὐδαιμονία) is powerful, especially since it is oddly preceded by the words “better than all fair fortune” (Contempl. 90), as if at the point he can seize happiness and throw the word at the audience he can also do so with due recognition that “fair fortune” might well have eluded Jews, including the people described, in the events that had taken place in Alexandria. They can smile in the face of misfortune because they are that admirable. By the time the Jewish deputation gave their case to Claudius, the GraecoEgyptian delegation had been joined by a philosopher named Chaeremon, who “spoke at length about the city” (CPJ 2: 153, ll. 14–21; van der Horst 1987, 3). We know then something about one of Philo’s opponents in this second deputation. He was not only a philosopher, apparently Stoic, but also a priest in a Graeco-Egyptian temple, ascetic and—like Philo—an allegorist (see the testimonies in van der Horst 1987, 2–7). Like Apion, he wrote negatively about Jews, and Josephus wrote to refute him (C. Ap. 2.1). Like Philo, he would use as an example the philosophical excellence of the contemplative life found in a group with whom he was particularly acquainted: the Graeco-Egyptian priests (Porphyry, Abst. 4.6–8; Jerome, Jov. 2.13, see van der Horst 1987, 17– 23; Taylor 2003, 44–45). While his treatise only survives in summary form in the writings of Porphyry, one can place the contents of Chaeremon’s “contemplative life” next to Philo’s and see clear patterns, as both authors attempted to lay down their examples in line with prerequisite notions of what would obtain for anyone living such a life. The following table shows the correspondences.

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Porphyry, De Abstinentia 4, summarizing Chaeremon’s work on the Egyptian priests. Translation by Gillian Clark (2000, 104–106).1

Philo, De vita contemplativa

6 (1) Chaeremon the Stoic, in his account of Egyptian priests who are, he says, regarded as philosophers by the Egyptians, explains that they have chosen temples as a place for engaging in philosophy.

Philo identifies that people he describes are “Therapeutae” (= cultic ministers, see below) and philosophers §§2, 30, 89 they have chosen a very suitable spot by Lake Mareotis §§22–23

(2) Living beside the shrines of the gods was akin to their whole desire for contemplation. It provided them with safety, because everyone, out of reverence for the gods, honoured philosophers as if they were a kind of sacred animal; and it also allowed them to be undisturbed, because contact with other people occurs only at festivals and feasts,

They have a desire for contemplation §1, safety of location §23, and “are called” Therapeutae (term of respect) §2, they have a quiet life away from cities and contact §18–20 and have huts spaced away from each other §24

but otherwise the temples are almost forbidden ground to others, for they had to approach in a state of purity and of abstinence from many things. This is a kind of common ordinance of the temples of Egypt.

No specific parallel stated.

(3) The priests, having renounced all other occupation and human labour, devoted their whole life to contemplation and vision of things divine. By vision they

They do not neglect family and friends when they relinquish their possessions. §14-§16. They leave their property to other family members and go away

1 In this excerpt included as likely from Chaeremon is also Abstinentia 4.9.1–5, since there is some question about where the summary of Chaeremon’s work actually ends. Reprinted with permission from Bloomsbury T&T Clark.

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(cont.)

Porphyry, De Abstinentia 4, summarizing Chaeremon’s work on the Egyptian priests. Translation by Gillian Clark (2000, 104–106).

Philo, De vita contemplativa

achieve honour, safety and piety, by contemplation knowledge, and through both a discipline of lifestyle which is secret and has the dignity of antiquity.

§§18–20; devote their whole life to contemplation of Divine §§28, 64, 90, vision and knowledge §11; way of life studying ancestral philosophy and “men of old” §§28–29

(4) Living always with divine knowledge and inspiration puts one beyond all greed, restrains the passions, and makes life alert for understanding. They practised simplicity, restraint, self-control, perseverance and in everything justice and absence of greed.

They are always thinking of the Divine even when sleeping §26, they resist the passions §68–69, eat frugally §34, practice self-control §69

(5) Their resistance to social contact also made them revered: at the time of what they called “holiness”, they did not associate with their closest kin and compatriots, and were hardly even seen by anyone else, except, for necessities, by those who were also engaged in holiness, because they lived in enclosures which were inaccessible to those who were not pure, and which were sacred to holy rites.

They have no social contact, and leave relatives permanently §18, as above regarding location §§18–23. But location appears not inaccessible. The elders appear to have no social contact with anyone apart from the juniors, who do the necessary practical things §§70–72, they can undertake a pure fast for 6 days §35.

(6) At other times they associated more freely with their fellows, but they did not share their lives with anyone outside the cult.

They do not even associate with each other except on 7th and 7×7th days §§30, 66

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Porphyry, De Abstinentia 4, summarizing Chaeremon’s work on the Egyptian priests. Translation by Gillian Clark (2000, 104–106).

Philo, De vita contemplativa

They were always to be seen close to the gods or to their images, either carrying them or processing before them or arranging them with order and reverence: none of these rites was empty display, but each was an indication of some natural principle.

Their service is the dedication of their whole lives to the reading and understanding of the sacred writings. composing music and singing understanding Nature through allegorical interpretation §§28–29, 78

(7) Their behaviour also showed them to be reverend. Their walk was disciplined, and they practised controlling their gaze, so that if they chose they did not blink. Their laughter was rare, and if it did happen, did not go beyond a smile. They kept their hands always within their clothing.

Everything is done with gravity, both in speaking and listening, with only slight movements of the head, and they sit in assemblies with their hands inside §§30– 31

Each had a visible sign of the rank he had They sit and recline sequentially accordin the rites, for there were several ranks. ing to “age” §§30, 66–67. Order is maintained always. (8) Their lifestyle was frugal and simple. Some tasted no wine at all, others a very little: they accused it of causing damage to the nerves and a fullness in the head which impedes research, and of producing desire for sex.

Their diet is very frugal, with no wine, as it is a drug of foolishness, just as there is no wine for priests sacrificing, there is no wine for these people their whole lives §§35–37, 73–74

(9) In the same way they also treated other foods with caution, and in their times of holiness did not eat bread at all. When they were not in a state of holiness they ate it with chopped hyssop, for they said that hyssop eliminated

They only eat bread and salt, sometimes mixed with hyssop §§37, 73

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(cont.)

Porphyry, De Abstinentia 4, summarizing Chaeremon’s work on the Egyptian priests. Translation by Gillian Clark (2000, 104–106).

Philo, De vita contemplativa

most of the force of bread. Some of them abstained from oil most of the time, but the majority did so entirely. If they used it with vegetables, it was only a very little, just enough to make the taste milder. 7 It was not lawful for them to touch food As above, they eat no food but bread, salt or drink produced outside Egypt, and and hyssop. thereby a great area of luxury was closed to them. (2) They abstained from all fish found in Egypt itself, and from quadrupeds that have solid hooves or hooves with fissures or have no horns, and from all birds that eat flesh. Many abstained altogether from animate foods, and all of them did in times of holiness, when they did not even eat eggs. (3) They also refused some of the animals which had not been declared unfit: for instance, they refused female cattle, and also males that were twins, spotted, varied in colour, deformed in shape or accustomed to the yoke (because they were already consecrated by their labours) or resembled sacred cattle (whatever kind of similarity appeared) or one-eyed or suggesting some resemblance to humans. (4) There are thousands of other observations in the art of those called moskhosphragistai: these have led to booklength compilations. Their precautions about birds are even more extreme: for instance, not to eat turtle-doves, because, they say, a fal-

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Porphyry, De Abstinentia 4, summarizing Chaeremon’s work on the Egyptian priests. Translation by Gillian Clark (2000, 104–106).

Philo, De vita contemplativa

con that has caught one often lets it go alive, granting survival as a reward for intercourse. So, in case they unwittingly come upon such a dove, they avoid the entire species. (5) Some of their religious rites are common to all, but differ according to the kinds of priest and are appropriate to each god; but times of holiness cleanse them all. (6) This is the time when they are to carry Complete fast for 6 days before Sabbath out some religious ritual and abstain for for some §35; celibacy for their whole a certain number of days in advance lives §68. (some for forty-two, some for more or less, but never less than seven) from every animate creature, from all vegetables and pulses, and especially from sexual intercourse with women; they have none with males even at other times. (7) Three times each day they bathe in cold water, when they get up, before their meal and on their way to sleep. If they happen to have a seminal emission, they immediately purify the body by washing. They also wash in cold water at other periods of their lives, but not so often.

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(cont.)

Porphyry, De Abstinentia 4, summarizing Chaeremon’s work on the Egyptian priests. Translation by Gillian Clark (2000, 104–106).

Philo, De vita contemplativa

(8) Their bed is woven from palmbranches, which they call ‘bais’, and a well-polished half-cylinder of wood supports the head. They practised thirst, hunger and eating little throughout their lives.

Their mattresses in the dining room are just made of simple papyrus strewings §69; they eat very frugally.

8 It is evidence of their self-control that, without taking walks or using passive exercise, they remained free from illness and vigorous in comparison with average strength: at least, in the course of the rituals they undertook many heavy tasks and forms of service which are too much for everyday strength.

Their name ‘Therapeutae’ indicates both cultic ministry and healthcare, not just of body but of soul §2.

(2) They divided the night into times for observation of the heavens, and sometimes for religious observance, and the day into times for worship of the gods: they sang hymns to the gods three or four times, at dawn and evening, when the sun is at noon and when it is setting. For the rest of the time they were engaged in the study of arithmetic or geometry, always working at it and adding to their discoveries, and altogether committed to practising it. (3) They did the same even on winter nights, staying awake for love of scholarship, for they gave no thought to making a profit and were liberated from the bad master, Extravagance. This unwearying and consistent work

Night is reserved for the needs of the body (food, sleep) and day to the soul §§28, 34; they pray at sunrise and sunset §27; they compose music and sing hymns (with dancing at festival) §29, 80, 83–89; their study is to interpret sacred writings and expound them §§28–29, 31, 75–79. Self-control is vital §34.

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Porphyry, De Abstinentia 4, summarizing Chaeremon’s work on the Egyptian priests. Translation by Gillian Clark (2000, 104–106).

Philo, De vita contemplativa

testifies to the perseverance of the men, and the lack of appetites testifies to their self-control. (4) They reckoned that sailing away from Egypt was one of the most impious acts, because they were always wary of foreign luxury and customs. They thought it holy only for those who were obliged to do so on the king’s service, and even those laid great stress on abiding by ancestral custom: if they were discovered to have transgressed even in a minor matter, they were expelled.

Luxury is something they reject and it is given detailed focus in §§40–63. They do not travel away, by implication. Nothing is said about expulsion from group.

(5) True philosophy was practised by prophets, hierostolistai and hierogrammateis, and also hôrologoi. The other priests and pastophoroi, and the mass of neôkoroi and servants of the gods, observed the same rules of purity, but without the same strictness and selfcontrol.

There are different levels: seniors and juniors §§67, 70–72.

9 Such is the testimony about the EgypEgyptian animal worship is specifically tians given by a truth-loving and accurate denounced §§8–9. Veneration of statues man who was deeply engaged in the prac- is denounced §7. tice of Stoic philosophy. Starting from this discipline, and from their appropriation to the divine, they realised that divinity is present not only in human beings, nor does soul dwell only in humans upon the earth, but it is almost the same soul

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(cont.)

Porphyry, De Abstinentia 4, summarizing Chaeremon’s work on the Egyptian priests. Translation by Gillian Clark (2000, 104–106).

Philo, De vita contemplativa

which is present in all animals. (2) For this reason they used every animal to represent the gods, and combined, in a kind of equality, beasts and humans, and also the bodies of birds and of humans, sometimes below and sometimes on top; for they have images which are human in form up to the neck, but with the face of a bird or a lion or of some other animal, or alternatively the head may be human and the rest of the body from other animals. (3) In this way they show that, according to the plan of the gods, these creatures too are in community with one another, and that both tame and wild beasts are our foster-brothers, not without some divine intent. (4) That is why the lion is worshipped like a god, and one region of Egypt (they call it a nome) has the name Leontopolites, another Bouseirites, another Kynopolites and another Lykopolites. They worshipped the divine power which is over everything through the associated animals that each god provided. (5) Among the elements, water and fire Those honouring the elements are speare the most honoured because they are cifically denounced §§3–4. the most responsible for our security; and this too they show in the rites, for even now, when [the temple of] holy Sarapis is opened, worship takes place with fire and water, and the hymnsinger makes

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Porphyry, De Abstinentia 4, summarizing Chaeremon’s work on the Egyptian priests. Translation by Gillian Clark (2000, 104–106).

Philo, De vita contemplativa

a libation of the water and displays the fire when, standing on the threshold, he awakens the god in the ancestral speech of the Egyptians.

The relationship between Chaeremon’s treatise and Philo’s Contempl. has been noted (e.g. Hay 2013, 2481), but in order to point out that there must have been a pre-existing literary template used by both authors. However, there is no other surviving work which would suggest such a literary template. Both authors were writing a very specific context and at the same time. Therefore, suggesting a direct relationship better explains the striking correspondences. Since what is in Porphyry is a summary rather than a verbatim account of what Chaeremon wrote, he may have skipped over or reworded what was written. One aspect that may have been skipped over is that both men and women were priests in the temples of Serapis and Isis, which was a well-known fact (P. Oxy. 11.1380, and see Heyob 1975; Rüpke 2018, 264–272). Porphyry has a very masculine focus, in stating that the (male) priests do not have intercourse with women/wives during the times of their service, and not with males ever (Abst. 4.7.5), but he may have omitted to mention that the female priests likewise remain in a state of celibacy by necessity for their own service. Philo quite emphatically includes women in his description of the admirable “men” he describes, and emphasizes their superior modesty and personal commitment, and the celibacy of the whole group is defined by their self-control: they are “mostly old virgins, guarding the purity (of this state) not by necessity, as some of the priestesses among the Hellenes do, but rather out of free will” (Contempl. 68). This implies he has in view the rejection of a contrary example, put forward by the Hellene side, that includes priestesses. The Roman audience would have been fully aware of practices in the Egyptian cult: it was in the very heart of Rome. The temples of Isis and Serapis were located close to the Pantheon in the area of the Campus Martius, and likely established in 43 BCE (see Cassius Dio, Rom. hist. 47:15; Versluys 2002, 353–354). While Romans could have a love-hate relationship with the cult, and it could

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be shut down at times (Tiberius apparently had the Egyptian priests executed and the cult statue thrown into the Tiber: Tacitus, Ann. 2.85; Suetonius, Tib. 38), there were aspects of the Egyptian cult that made it very attractive to Romans. It was brilliantly synthetic, essentially a Hellenic remodelling of ancient Egyptian religion that alluring blended cult and philosophy. It was also quintessentially Alexandrian. Re-making themselves as GraecoEgyptians, the royal Hellenic dynasty of the Ptolemies had joined the locals in terms of their ancient devotions to Isis, Osiris and Horus, with Osiris now fused with Apis fused with Zeus, resulting in the Ptolemaic god supreme: Serapis. Serapis was a kind of Hellenistic synthesis in which Stoic notions about God as Nature could sit comfortably. The Serapeum of Alexandria was in the heart of the city (McKenzie, Gibson and Reyes 2004; Gambetti 30–31). In this cult, quite surprisingly, we also find Homer, thanks to the practices of Stoic allegorizing of Homer, in which great philosophers were incorporated into the devotional shrines of Serapis temples. Thus, for example, in an exedra of the processional street leading to a 3rd-century BCE Serapeum in Memphis there is a shrine to twelve famous poets and philosophers, all seated on thrones like gods, surrounding a seated central figure of Homer (Zanker 1995, 172, Fig. 91). In Alexandria itself, according to Aelian: “Ptolemy Philopator erected a temple to Homer and placed within it a magnificent seated statue of the poet and, in a semicircle around him, all the cities that laid claim to Homer” (Var. hist. 13.22). Where we may see a neat distinction between cult and philosophy, this was not the case in Hellenistic Egypt, or anywhere the Egyptian cult travelled. The British Museum has a remarkable relief depicting the apotheosis of Homer, dated to the reign of Ptolemy IV Philopator, 221–205BC, showing Homer crowned by Time and the Cosmos, alias Ptolemy and his sister-wife and co-regent Arsinoe III.2 Perhaps then it is no wonder that Philo refers to Homer’s writings in Contempl. (17, 40), and positively (see further Niehoff 2011a; 2012). In the Egyptian cult, Homer the pinnacle of Greek literature becomes Homer the gateway to philosophy, and philosophy is then interwoven with cult in a system of mysteries that would illuminate the deep realities of the universe. Therefore, we may imagine the speakers from two sides of the dispute between the Hellenes and the Jews in Rome—Chaeremon and Philo—as making presentations of philosophical excellence on their own behalf, and deriding the examples put forward by the other, in a rhetorical battle, as we today can have two politicians aiming to persuade an audience of the appeal of their own

2 Available for viewing and free use by the Creative Commons licence: https://commons.wiki media.org/wiki/File:Apotheosis_Homer_BM_2191.jpg.

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party while ridiculing or besmirching the opposition. They wielded information about their own side, aiming to show its superiority. This does not at all mean they are concocting lies, but rather they are shaping the truth of actual examples to their own ends. In terms of Chaeremon, any negative portrayal placed in contrast to the Egyptian priests is not reported by Porphyry, but then Eusebius likewise presented no negative model to that of the Therapeutae when he used Philo’s work (Hist. eccles. 2.16–17; see below). Nevertheless, in De vita contemplativa in full the opposition is besmirched in a good third of the work, against which, states Philo, “I will set in contrast (ἀντιτάχω)” the students of Moses (Contempl. 64). What Philo describes in both cases are festive meals, but the one he describes from the opposing side is not any of the meals of the philosopher-priests themselves (e.g., those of the Stoic priest Chaeremon in the temples) but the meals of their adherents: their supporters who value great examples of Greek philosophers like Anaxagoras and Democritus. The foils to the Therapeutae are not presented in the meal as like to like, and it is actually quite a curious strategy. To take an analogy from today, it would be as if, in a hypothetical polemical piece written by Buddhists against Christians, the spiritual life of Buddhist monks and nuns were contrasted not with comparable Christian monks and nuns but with Christians celebrating Christmas. We might suppose that the corresponding foils the Graeco-Egyptian philosopher-priests, in Chaeremon’s presentation, were then not priests but other Jews who participate in a festive meal that is full of insobriety, excess and dubious practices. The polemics are here at their height: those under attack in De vita contemplativa are plainly those Philo knew as the attackers of his community. Their true nature as savage beasts is represented by the way they eat. To examine this literary strategy more closely, we need to consider the social context of Hellenistic and Jewish meals, and accusations levelled against the Jews. iii The Social Context: Hellenistic and Jewish Meals The meals that Philo targets so vehemently appear to be part of the social fabric of civilized life in Alexandria, since the great symposia of the philosophers are considered precedents. However, in order to understand the meal-time practices and values of Philo’s opposition we need to understand Ptolemaic Alexandria and its blending of philosophy and cult, as outlined above. We may imagine philosophers engaged in their conversations in private homes, or the agora. We may not picture them on thrones, as found in an early 4th-century mosaic from Apamea in Syria, where Socrates is identified in the centre, or ruminating on philosophical questions under a tree, as in the mosaic from Pompeii (Zanker 1995, 216–220). But the primary focus for the “philo-

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sophizing” of philosophers was, of course, the symposium, the banquet: that of Plato forming a kind of archetype. Roman readers might then imagine that a dinner party could be a fitting setting for contemporary philosophical debate. However, Philo completely deconstructs anything positive about such contemporary dinners, and indeed Plato’s symposium itself. The practices of dinner parties presented in De vita contemplativa are clearly informed by dining in the Graeco-Roman world, with all the possible pitfalls, which we see nicely portrayed in a depiction in a fresco from Pompeii (Regio V 2,4; Museo Archeologico di Napoli, Inv. 120 039). Here child slaves are shown servicing the male diners, who lounge around on puffy yellow-draped couches. In the foreground, one boy is taking off a guest’s shoe, another boy offers him a drink, and in the right foreground a boy offers a bowl for another guest to vomit into. Not without reason, dining excesses were commonly critiqued by moralists, though one should not assume all Graeco-Roman dinners were debauched, though they could be heavily critiqued (see for discussion and sources Lanuwabang 2016, 18–21; König 2012, 18–29). In particular, we may note that Romans could point the finger at the Greeks for their apparent “foreign” excesses (Seneca, Ira 3.14–17; Ep. 83.9–10, 23–25; 108.15–16; see Niehoff 2018, 87). However, we need to explore further some aspects that are not so readily obvious about dining practices, in the light of Alexandria as a city, given what we have identified above about the fusion of the Egyptian cult and philosophy. If Philo’s stratagem involves undermining the models from the Egyptian cult presented by Chaeremon, we should look to a particular kind of dining. Indeed, a primary type was associated with festive meals: the sacrificial banquet (König 2012, 23–25; Schmitt-Pantell 1990; 1992). Given that Serapis also became fused with the god Dionysus, the tutelary divinity of the Ptolemies themselves, as we see in a 3rd-century BCE inscription from Abu el-Matamir, dedicated to “Serapis-Dionysus and Isis-Aphrodite, Saviour Gods and Bringers of Plenty” (Stambaugh 1972, 59), the wine-drinking and eating of the plenty that the god supplied would have been an appropriate activity in Serapis worship, as in Dionysiac feasting. We see in relation to the cult of Serapis that the key festive meals (Lanuwabang 2016: 65–67; Nock 1963) were focused on two major events of the Serapia, the cultic festivals, in December and April (Abdelwahed 2016). In his Hymn to Serapis (Or. 45.26–28) Aristides describes Serapis (as a bust or statue) being set up at a meal, as lord of the feast and as a participant. From Oxyrhynchus there are two invitations to dinner “at the couch of Serapis,” one defining this as being “at the Serapeum” (P.Oxy. 1.110 and 3.523). P. Oxy 1.110 reads: “Chaeremon requests your company at dinner at the table of the lord Sarapis in the Serapeum tomorrow, the 15th, at 9 o’clock” (Grenfell and Hunt 1898, 177). These dinners involved entertain-

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ments: a 3rd-century papyrus lists gifts to a comedian and dancer, as well as to a herald, dog-headed person (for Anubis), and the doorkeeper of the Serapeum in Oxyrhynchus (SB IV.7336.42; Abdelwahed 2016, 8–9). Josephus (A.J. 18.73–74) refers to a meal in relation to the Egyptian cult in Rome, as does Tertullian (Apol. 39). An inscription of the Egyptian cult Temple in Delos, dating to 196BCE, has “couches” (klinai) dedicated to Serapis, Isis and other gods and associated temple rooms have been identified as being the locations for festive dinners, with associations hiring them out called Sarapiastae and decadistae. Likewise, a 2nd-century Egyptian papyrus refers to meals in honour of the gods such as Serapis (Stambaugh 1972, 56–57). Philo himself mentions meals taking place “after sacrificing” (Plant. 160–161). As Stambaugh (1972, 57) concludes, “Such a variety of documents shows clearly that the sacred meal of Dionysiac type played a significant role in Sarapis’ cult from early in the Ptolemaic period until the Roman period, and both in royal and in popular practice”. In short, all this suggests that it was the festive meals associated with the cult of Serapis in particular that are targeted by Philo in his discussion of the wrong symposia, against which he portrays the perfect, ascetic “feasts” of the Therapeutae. Extrapolating, then, given the polemics here, one may suggest that Chaeremon’s treatise included not simply a representation of the perfection of the meals of the Egyptian priests (as mentioned in Porphyry), but also then continued to pit this against a parody of Jewish meals, using the same accusations we find in Apion’s “indictment of the Jewish residents in Alexandria” (Josephus, C. Ap. 2.7). Josephus reports that Apion claimed that Jews sacrificed and ate domestic animals (C. Ap. 2.137–139), and even engaged in feasting on human flesh in their annual festival (C. Ap. 2.89–111; see Schäfer 1997, 91). According to Apion, this festival included “an unspeakable feast and richest, famed food, and even slaves go into precincts where the most noble of Jews are not free to enter, unless they are priests” (C. Ap. 2.110). Plutarch noted that Sukkoth, the feast of Tabernacles celebrations, befitted the worship of Dionysus (Quaest. conv. 4.671D–672B, see Geiger 2010, 213–214). Tacitus (Hist. 5.5) even identified the God of the Jews with Dionysus. Such views might have been spawned by hearsay around Passover or other festivals; in regard to the former the Mishnah noted that “even a poor Israelite, they do not give him less than four cups of wine” (m. Pes. 10:1). The importance of wine-drinking as part of the meal was easily misinterpreted. Jews presumably had modest symposia along the lines specified in Sirach 31:12–31 (LXX) and 32:7–13 (LXX), where moderate drinking and eating is advised. The papers of the SBL Seminar on Meals in the Greco-Roman World has enabled a greater understanding of the context in which Philo wrote about

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the meals of the Therapeutae, with particularly helpful analyses by Taussig (2014) and McGowan (2014) as well as that by Brumberg-Kraus (2014). Creating a “banquet contrast” was used in ancient rhetoric to great effect. We find it in Athenaeus’ Deipnosophistae (5.2; 186a–190a), where Homeric symposia are contrasted with those of Plato, Xenophon, Epicurus and others (BrumbergKraus 2014). Meals in Jewish contexts were then clearly ripe for use in debate. McGowan (2014) has explored the cultic correlations of the Therapeutae’s food, which tends to emphasize their “priestly” credentials: helpful in countering the model of Egyptian priests. More generally though, what do we make of the pattern of responding to critique of Jewish festive meals by using an exemplar of one group of Jews, as Chaeremon used the exemplar of the Egyptian priests to champion Hellenic Alexandrians? There were elements of the feast of the Therapeutae that would have been highly recognisable to people at the time in terms of stages of the meal, since there was a common banqueting tradition (see Smith 2003). Taussig (2009; 2014) in particular notes that in descriptions of banquets (symposia) we find the following: i. a supper (deipnon) followed by an extended time of drinking, conversation and performance (sumposion), ii. a libation, marking the transition from eating to drinking; iii. leadership by a sumposiarch (master of ceremonies); iv. a variety of marginal personages: servants, uninvited guests, entertainers and dogs. The meal of the Therapeutae assumes some kind of template, but invariably Philo reduces everything down to extreme basics. The deipnon is bread, slightly seasoned, the sumposion drink is water, there is no conversation, the ‘performance’ is a philosophical speech, and the servants are actually junior members of the group. We will consider more closely this aspect in the relevant sections of the commentary.

2

Genre and the Question of Actuality

One of the issues that has dogged interpretation of De vita contemplativa is that of defining its genre. While it is rightly classified as ‘philosophical’, given its exploration of the contemplative life, it is also polemical and, in many ways, political, given its relevance to a critical debate in Rome and Alexandria with very real consequences. Another issue that has caused scholarly dispute is that of actuality: does Philo present a fantasy group, as a dreamy ideal? However, the polemical aspect of the treatise considered above is an important issue to bear in mind when assessing whether it depicts an actual group. We will consider the questions here.

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i An Imaginary Ideal or Actual People? Is this description of the group in De vita contemplativa a fantasy? This question arose first in the work of Charles Guignebert (1935, 320). Though accepting that the work was authentic, Guignebert considered Philo’s description of the Therapeutae so idealized and stylized that, if such people did exist, they were not really as Philo described them. More recently this has been revived (see Engberg-Pedersen 1999; Bergmeier 1993; Kraemer 2010, 66–114, revising Kraemer 1989). Engberg-Pedersen (1999, 48) does not wholly dismiss the notion that there was a real group, but the literary description is more dream than reality. Unfortunately, these suggestions seem to assume that Philo lived in a closet. For example, Ross Kraemer (2010, 84–107) has proposed that the crossing of the Sea in Exodus 15 was a literary inspiration for Philo’s invention. As Pieter van der Horst has rightly countered, “if Philo could have patterned his description … on his own interpretation of the text of Exod 15, then a contemporary coreligionist of his … could pattern their celebrations on the same interpretation as well, with the result that the actual (historical) reality was more or less as Philo described it” (van der Horst 2012, 100). Angela Standhartinger (2015) reads them in the light of ancient ethnographic discourse: Philo describes an idealized version of Jewish religiosity. While it is certainly the case that the group is presented in an idealized way, even with reference to utopian tropes, one should be very cautious about making too great a leap, and asserting that it is fictitious (see Beavis 2004). There are several reasons why the notion that Philo is dreaming up a fantasy is highly unlikely. In the first place, about a third of his treatise is taken up attacking the “Greek Other” (Niehoff 2010b), whether they are current, in the form of cultic devotions, or historical, in the form of Plato’s Symposium, which informs the current practices of symposia, characterized as opportunities for binge drinking and violence (Contempl. 3–11, 40–63). These are real exemplars. This is not a coolheaded characterization of a perfect philosophical life, but rather a counterassault against opponents, proclaiming that a life of perfect virtue can actually exist within Judaism, in such a way to make it far superior to all those models of excellence presented from the spectrum of well-known religious and philosophical groups within the Graeco-Roman world, and particularly from within Alexandrian society. It is not only that Judaism provides a supreme example of “admirable men” (see above) but also that the bad examples put forward by the likes of Chaeremon are at best inadequate and at worst depraved, abusive and murderous. As we have seen, Jews were being accused by opponents and considered a threat to society. This was a chance to turn the tables. An apparently innocuous philosophical question such as “Where does virtue exist?” or “How is the contemplative life most excellently manifested?” has

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direct ramifications in the real world, and masks a deep animosity between Philo and his opponents, opponents whom we know also petitioned the Roman emperors Gaius Caligula and Claudius, and incited horrific acts against Jews in the civil strife of 38 to 41 CE. The presentation of Jews and Judaism in the works of Philo’s contemporaries Apion and Chaeremon are essential to consider. Secondly, we know that Chaeremon used the real Egyptian priests to indicate their ideal lifestyle (in Porphyry, Abst. 4.6–8), and therefore if Philo created an imaginary group to argue for Jews as representing a philosophical ideal to counter actual examples from the Graeco-Egyptian context he would have lost the argument at the very start. It is vitally important that Philo’s group be real, even if he presents truth shaped in a rhetorical way (Taylor 2003, 6–15). Thirdly, then, a depiction of ideal Jews that was a fantasy bearing no relationship to what Jews were actually doing would have been greeted by Philo’s audience and readers as almost completely worthless, defeating his purpose entirely. Imaginary Jews would have been laughable; the opponents could simply point to their non-existence to dismiss Philo’s entire presentation. Those who suggest that Philo made up an ideal community have not grasped the issues of Philo’s political and social context, and the vitriolic attacks faced by Jews in Alexandria. As Niehoff (2018) has shown, the Philo we encounter in his philosophical treatises has taken note of his Roman audience and has been influenced by Roman intellectual trends, in which historiography, actuality and Stoicism are paramount. Fourthly, Philo locates the group not in a remote place at the ends of the world, unverifiably, but exactly on a low-lying hill near Alexandria, between Lake Mareotis and the Mediterranean Sea (Contempl. 23), and thus anyone there could have investigated the truth of his claims. Thus, David Winston (1981, 41), an expert on the genre of ancient utopia, states: “Having placed the Therapeutae … not far from Alexandria, where he himself lived, it is clear that he could not have invented them. Utopias are usually located at remote distances, safe from any effort at verification” (see also Beavis 2004, 32; 2006, 60). Given that Philo’s stated aim is to show a contemplative life, as actually represented by a group of Jews who live in a real place that is in striking distance of the city of Alexandria, his purpose would have been totally nullified by any suggestion that his group were not real, and the precise details of the location of the Therapeutae close to the huge metropolis of Alexandria almost invite someone to find them. Fifthly, Philo makes clear that he has already used an actual group of people as an example in exploring the “active” philosophical lifestyle. The Essenes, unlike the Therapeutae, are widely attested in ancient literature, and are described in at least two of Philo’s own treatises: Quod Omnis Probus liber sit

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(“Every Good Man is Free”) 75–91, and part of the so-called Apologia pro Iudaeis “Apology for the Jews” (as in Eusebius’s Praeparatio evangelica 8.11.1–18), a work usually considered part of the Hypothetica (Taylor 2007; 2012, 22–48). It would follow then that if Philo is using an actual group for his presentation of the topic of the active life, he would use an actual group for the presentation of the contemplative life (see Beavis 2004, 31; 2006, 59). To use an actual group for one treatise and an invented one for another would be unbalanced, and a very poor strategy. Finally, while it may seem that Philo provides a single testimony to the existence of a group we call the Therapeutae, and therefore they appear isolated in literary attestation, it has to be said that if in ancient history we only trusted testimony to actuality if it exists on the basis of multiple attestation in contemporaneous sources, then much of our knowledge of antiquity would be rendered invalid. Likewise, if anything that contains rhetoricity is deemed inappropriate to use either as evidence for actuality this would rule out all the work of ancient historians, since the writing of any given historia (“investigation”)—Philo’s included—was done within the realm of rhetorica, conceptualized as a speech intended to convince an audience, and was designed for rhetorical, argumentative, ends: to prove a thesis (see Perelman and Lucie Olbrechts-Tyteca 1969, 5; Alexandre 1999; Dawson 1992, 76; Taylor 2012, 6–20). Furthermore, as we will explore in a moment, that the type of people Philo describes are found only here in all his writings is a false notion. There is clear evidence of the type of people Philo describes elsewhere in his writings. They are not an isolated occurrence in Philo’s work; they are simply named and described in this treatise in a singular way. It is better to see Philo’s Therapeutae as both real and idealized, actual and rhetorical, since their presentation is shaped truth, designed for a particular purpose, at a particular time. Philo is not presenting “false news”, but a version of what was real for the sake of arguing a case. He wanted to win over his audience, to gain approval for a group of Jews that would represent the excellence of all Jews. The stakes were extremely high. ii Genre We may then consider the fundamental question of genre. Defining the specific genre of the treatise might help us in terms of viewing its rhetorical components and relationship with actuality more accurately. Noting the use of the word in Contempl. 1, Engberg-Pedersen (1999, 41) has suggested that Contempl. is to be considered as a pragmateia (πραγματεία), which he considers as a literary genre defined on the basis of Aristotle’s usage (Eth. nic. 2.2): a scientific treatise. Here though it is one apparently transformed into fiction.

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In Philo’s usage elsewhere, however, πραγματεία has no relationship to a literary genre in any place it is found. The term πραγματεία as used by Philo has been shown to be a very general one implying no precise literary form (see discussion in Manetti 1986, 25). It can mean “subject of a treatise” (LSJ 1457) elsewhere in Philo’s works or it can have other senses. In no case in Philo is there any suggestion of a genre of a scientific treatise. The fundamental substance of meaning is πρᾶγμα, a “thing done, fact, business, matter.” In Sacr. 120 it is found with this meaning of “matter.” In Gig. 29, Deus 97 and Abr. 30 it appears in plural as “occupations” or “labours,” but it can also mean a subject or topic under study, such as physics or logic: Ebr. 97; Congr. 147, 149; Mut. 53, 75; Somn. 1.102, 120. In Spec. 2.65 it refers to the “matter/substance of life,” as also in Spec. 2.102, and 3.105. In Hypoth. 11.6, in the plural, it refers to the activities, labours, or occupations Essenes work in, cf. 11. 5. In Flacc. 3, Flaccus became familiar with “Egyptian affairs/matters.” In Praem. 142, in the plural, it means “occupations/industries,” as also Fug. 33. The usage of the word in Contempl. 1 is then completely consistent with Philo’s usage elsewhere, and it can be read as “subject” or “topic,” in this case a reference to the topic of “the contemplative life,” a presentation of a philosophical ideal by a description of the lived life of real people. Contempl. is therefore a “life story,” or bios, in that it illuminates the working of a philosophical life by means of a descriptive presentation of how a real group of people fulfil certain criteria we would expect (see Uusimäki 2018, and see also Stefanut 2017). Furthermore, it is clear from his rhetoric that Philo intends to contain both the Essenes and the Therapeutae in the paradigm of virtue that readers would expect from the living of a philosophical life, even if they do not exactly fit with the common practice of Jews in Alexandria or his own notions. Philo constructs them by means of a complex mesh of biblical and classical allusions (for which numerous references may be found in his own work) and by downplaying such features as the junior members of their community by Lake Mareotis whose “active” service of the seniors would muddy his rhetoric in terms of the “contemplative” ideal, since they are actually quite busy, e.g., they serve the seniors during a meal (Contempl. 72, 81). In addition, the group appears to follow a solar calendar in which the day begins at dawn: their Sabbath of Sabbaths celebration, on every 49th day, concludes when the sun rises (Contempl. 89, cf. 65), when they go back to “work.” Most importantly, the inclusion of women is not required or necessarily positive as an element in the ideal contemplative life, and Philo works hard to ensure that they do not become a negative feature, given the various problematic ways philosophical women could be presented in antiquity (see Taylor 2003, 171–226). Philo’s “spin” on actuality is found not only in terms of how he manages such issues of the actual, but also in what

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he chooses to leave out (see Hay 1992). A rhetorically-heavy text is still not a “fiction” as such, in terms of genre. Engberg-Pedersen’s assessment (1999, 43), that Philo’s claims to be writing truth was a ruse to conceal the fiction, is, as Mary-Ann Beavis has noted, ultimately “contrived” (2004, 32), or “overly ingenious” (2006, 60). He is right that philosophical writing in antiquity was highly influenced by the principles found in Aristotle’s Rhetorica, but ancient authors knew their fables from their fact. Quintilian distinguished three genre distinctions: a fabula (fable, or myth), an argumentum (a narrative story) and a historia, “an exposition of actual fact” (Quintilian, Inst. 2.4.2). We are here in the latter category. The genre of Contempl. is best considered by reference to Aristotle’s explanation of how an inductive argument may be built up on the basis of “examples,” παραδείγματα (Rhet. 1.2.10; 1357b–1358a; see Kennedy 1999, 82–84). In accord with this, the treatise uses the good example of the Therapeutae to contrast with the bad examples used in Graeco-Egyptian culture, thus incorporating a rhetorical mode of censure or accusation (cf. Bréhier 1907, 285). Furthermore, it is critical for philosophers utilizing such examples to be seen to be representing the actual, in terms of their presentations that assert that they are truthful (so Contempl. 1–2), and in terms of representing philosophical ideals by reference to actual lives. We can consider the importance of the actual in Stoic argument by reference to Epictetus’s use of examples. In his Discourses, Book 4, Epictetus grapples with the issue of freedom, and how easily one falls into various forms of slavery; the solution being to embrace the Stoic ideal of detachment. However, in order to show that it is not an impossible ideal, Epictetus has to provide an example of someone who has lived such a life. Thus, he writes of Socrates (4.1): And that you may not think that I show you the example of a man who is a solitary person, who has neither wife nor children, nor country, nor friends, nor kinsmen, by whom he could be bent and drawn in various directions, take Socrates and observe that he had a wife and children, but he did not consider them as his own; that he had a country, so long as it was fit to have one, and in such a manner as was fit; friends and kinsmen also, but he held all in subjection to law and to the obedience due to it. Epictetus, transl. George Long 1904, 311

For Epictetus, it is necessary to show that the Stoic lifestyle can be adopted in the here and now by anyone with the appropriate commitment, and he looks to Xenophon’s Symposium for an example from history. Socrates is an “example,”

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paradeigma, described in Xenophon’s Symposium, who does not fight or allows another to do so (4.5). In this case, while Socrates as a man existed and had various characteristics, Epictetus is using him as a model of a philosophical ideal. Socrates is both actual and described (rhetorically) by Epictetus.3 This method of presenting actual examples is to be distinguished from literature that presents a utopia as a model for the future ordering of society, or a wonder. In Plato’s Republic it is not necessary for Plato to argue that in his utopian society the “Guardians” conform to any existing precedent, since it is clear that this is a created ideal for a future society that has never existed. The Stoic presentation of a lifestyle, however, relies on historical examples for the lifestyle to be shown as liveable, and to explain how it is lived. We see this in the language: “an example (παράδειγμα) of this as also the other things [referred to] is proposed to us in the life of Socrates” (4.5). In Dio Chrysostom’s Euboean discourse (Or. 7), likewise, there is the example of a simple Euboean hunter and his family in terms of an argument for simplicity as a basis for a happy life. This type of philosophical rhetoric that functions on the basis of describing an example or series of examples may be seen in Cicero’s De divinatione 1, where he reviews all known examples of divinatory practices, demonstrating its widespread usage. Numerous other illustrations of this mode of writing can be found (Breytenbach 2014). Clearly the Therapeutae hit the right notes in terms of a philosophical ideal, but that in itself does not mean they cannot be actual. To presume any group that reflected preconceived notions of what a philosophical life might be must be fictional assumes that the groups in question themselves had no interest in modelling themselves on such lives. Given that examples were known, a certain amount of emulation may well have taken place among actual groups (cf. Mendels 1979). What we have then in work such as Contempl. provides an extended paradeigma or deigma (see for further Ebner 2007): an example presented rhetorically in order to prove a philosophical life of virtue. It is essential that the people in question are actual for the philosophical example to be valid, but they are presented in a rhetorical way in order to conform to expectations. What is expected of a contemplative life will therefore be the focus, and there will be facets of reality that are included and excluded. As mentioned above, the Therapeutae themselves are not the exclusive examples being used; Philo uses contrasting examples, or “foils” (Hay 2002),

3 I am very grateful to Prof. Wayne Martin for furnishing me with this important example from Epictetus.

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of the “Greek Other” (Niehoff 2010b) to demonstrate their inadequacy. In Contempl. 57, Philo overtly dismisses the examples (παραδείγματα) of Plato’s and Xenophon’s Symposia, the very ones that would be used by Epictetus, as the opposite of what he is exhibiting in his treatise, demonstrating therefore that he is engaged precisely in the work of furnishing the same actual παραδείγματα that would render any other symposium inferior. This could not be done by means of a fantasy. One would not strongly contrast an actual example with an imaginary one. The rhetoric relies on the actuality of the example to point out the inadequacy of one that is used as a real basis for emulation. Philo here defines exactly what he is doing within an established genre. This treatise is a kind of bios (βίος, “life-story”, “biography”), in that it illuminates the philosophical life via a presentation of how people fulfil certain criteria. The usual title of the work, Περὶ βίου θεωρητικοῦ ἢ ἱκετῶν, “On the Contemplative Life or On Suppliants” suggests as much. It is a kind of sub-category of the bioi genre as a whole, here involving a life that is collective rather than just individual. The model of the contemplative life, ὁ βιὸς θεωρητικός, in particular has been explored in detail by the study of Alberto Grilli, first published in 1953 (2nd ed. 2002), in which he identified the origins of the concept in the work of Panaetius. Philo specifically indicates in Contempl. 14 that the Hellenes cited Democritus, Anaxagoras and Hippocrates as examples of those who had embraced this lifestyle (Grilli 2002, 25–26). The writing of expositions on the contemplative life continued into the Christian era. In the 5th century, there is the work of Julianus Pomerius, “The Contemplative Life,” a work formerly attributed to Prosper of Aquitaine (Quaesten 1947). This work is actually one which has the contemplative and active lives within it, and draws its inspiration from Plato, with the true contemplative life existing only in heaven. The topic of the philosophical “lives”—or rather “lifestyles”—of virtue may be traced to Aristotle (Eth. nic. 1.5; 10.7–8), who listed four lives of virtue that would lead to happiness, the foremost two being the active (public, practical, work-oriented) life and the contemplative (reclusive, scholarly) life; he then discusses whether happiness consists of the life of contemplation or in action (10.7–8; see Engberg-Pedersen 1999, 41). Such lifestyles of virtue became standard models in Graeco-Roman philosophy (see Porphyry, Abst. 1.53; Diogenes Laertius, Lives 7.130). Philosophers could be defined in terms of the lives they exemplified, such as Dichaerchus (active) and Theophrastus (contemplative) (so Cicero, Fin. 5.57; Dichaerchus, Frags. 29 and 31; cf. Diogenes Laertius, Lives 7.92, 130). Because of the loss of so much literature of the classical world, it is difficult to know exactly what works might have supplied a definitive precedent, but Antiphon’s On the Life of Those who Excelled in Virtue (quoted in

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Porphyry, Vit. Pyth. 9–12), dating to the 3rd century BCE and containing an example of Pythagoras (training with Egyptian priests), is suggestive. One thing to note, however, is that while the standard philosophical βίος concerns an example of an individual philosopher or hero (as in Philo’s own Life of Moses, see Mos. 2.12), in Contempl. we have a collective subject. This is also the case in terms of the lost treatise on the Essenes, which is paralleled in what Philo says elsewhere about them (Prob. 75–91; Hypoth. 11.1–18), and we may note that in Prob. 91 Philo specifically defines his goal as showing them as an example (δεῖγμα). The immediate parallel is—as mentioned—Chaeremon’s work on the Egyptian priests. Such collective examples are shown also in the extended discussion on the Essenes by Josephus (B.J. 2.119–161), or Porphyry’s examples of the Essenes and others as exponents of vegetarianism in De abstinentia 4 (the work which includes Chaeremon’s work on the Egyptian priests, see above). The collective example is found also in Iamblichus’ presentation of the Pythagoreans (Vita Pythag.). This sub-genre, which presents the lifestyle of a collective subject as an example of philosophical excellence in the same way as in the usual βίος of a single individual, parallels another developed subgenre of the collected biography of multiple individuals, as we find in the Acts of the Apostles (see S. Adams 2013, and see Sterling 1994). Individual and collective bioi could blend together also: in Iamblichus’s Life of Pythagoras the work begins with a biography of Pythagoras himself, as an example of philosophical excellence, and then moves to his establishment of a school (26–93) of ζηλωτάς, “emulators,” or κοινοβίους, “fellows”, and an account of the training follows. The Essenes in the previous treatise would have been presented in terms of actions and engagements that are indicative of the tropes of the active life in philosophy. In Stoicism, while both philosophical lives were valid, the “active life” was essentially superior (Seneca, de Otio 1.4). It was one engaged with public life (Diogenes Laertius, Lives 7.121, from Chryssipus, On Various Types of Life), in politics and in work, while the “contemplative” was one which was withdrawn from this engagement, focusing on private study and philosophical rumination (Seneca’s otium). For Philo, while Jews mixed active and contemplative as best lives, in his Allegorical Commentary (pre-Rome) it was the contemplative life that was superior, with Abraham as the prime example: “What life is better than a contemplative life or more appropriate to a rational being?” (Migr. 47). Abraham practices detachment in order to focus on the Divine (Migr. 150–151). In Platonic terms the contemplative life was indeed superior to the active. But Philo does not go down this route in De vita contemplativa, or any other of his Rome-infused later treatises, despite what he writes in Spec. 3.1–6: he

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takes the contemplative and active lives as two valid philosophical choices (Reydams-Schils 2015), with concrete examples, thus again appealing to Stoic readers. In the Exposition of the Law treatises Philo thus presents the idea that the active and contemplative lives were both “best lives” (Decal. 101), and Moses himself applied himself in an integrated way to the contemplative and practical sides of virtue (Mos. 1.48). In Leg. 1.52–58 (cf. Praem. 11) Philo states that virtue is both contemplative and active/practical. Ideally, all Jews are expected to mix the two together: they should devote six days to the active life of philosophy and one to the contemplative (Decal. 100; Spec. 2.64). He would allegorize the trees of the Garden of Eden as virtues both contemplative and active (Leg. 1. 57–58). So, using the Essenes as an example of the best active life in the preceding treatise was a way of demonstrating the best life of Jewish philosophy overall, with the Therapeutae’s Sabbath day assemblies and Sabbath-like daily lifestyle of quietness illustrating this contemplative dimension of Jewish life. Thus, the notion of a perfect philosophical life (see Uusimäki 2018), perhaps informed somewhat by concepts of utopia (see Beavis 2004, 61–68), shaped the form of the presentation, but it does not require the invention of a group of imaginary Jews bearing little correlation with reality. It is essential to contextualize this treatise within a tumultuous period of history, in which Jewish leaders were being publicly scourged, Jewish property sacked and looted, and synagogues burnt. In this environment, Philo successfully argues a case that virtue is indeed found magnificently in the actualities of Judaism in the present time. Notably, Philo does not here look for examples from Jewish history—the past that is long gone—but from the world of the Jews now under attack. His examples stretch from Judaea (Syria Palaestina), with the Essenes of the previous treatise illustrating the active philosophical life, to the region around Alexandria, with the so-called Therapeutae illustrating the contemplative life.

3

The Treatise within the Philonic Corpus

Between the 17th and 19th century, there was considerable doubt expressed about whether Contempl. belonged in the Philonic corpus. This was in large part due to the fact that Eusebius, in the 4th century, pointed to Contempl. to argue that Philo was describing Christians (Hist. eccles. 2.16–17, for which, see below under Nachleben). Scholars too noted the “Christianizing” elements of the text and decided then that Philo could not have written it (see for summaries of scholarship Wagner 1960, 194–202; Riaud 1987). Lucius (1879), in particular, argued it was a later composition, not authored by Philo at all, one composed a little before the time of Eusebius in order to make a claim for an ancient preced-

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ent for Christian monasticism. So influential was Lucius that Emil Schürer (1885–1891) did not describe the Therapeutae in his historical survey of ancient Judaism as he believed Contempl. to be spurious. Even when the treatise was considered genuine, the notion of contemplative Jews, who were understood often to be types of Essenes, fell foul of dominant notions of Judaism at the time of Jesus as being legalistic and unspiritual, which led to both the Essenes and the Therapeutae as being seen as Hellenized anomalies or proto-Christians (see Taylor 2012, 1–21). Fortunately, the remarkable work of Frederick C. Conybeare (1895) robustly defended the treatise’s genuineness against those who doubted by deconstructing their arguments completely, particularly those of Lucius (1879). Conybeare noted how many anomalies there were between the thought and practice of the Therapeutae and early Christians and concentrated on how much the literary style and thought expressed in Contempl. is authentically Philonic by listing a range of parallels throughout the extent of the work. Conybeare’s study singlehandedly led to an acceptance of the treatise as a genuine work of Philo (see Riaud, 1987, 1191–210). Within the Philonic corpus Contempl. falls within a cluster of extant works that may be defined as historical and philosophical (pace Hay 2013, 2481), rather than primarily concerned with the allegorical interpretation of Scripture: In Flaccum, Legatio ad Gaium, De animalibus, the Hypothetica and Quod omnis probus liber sit, De providentia and De aeternitate mundi. Eusebius himself defines Legatio as a historical work in Hist. eccles. 2.5.6. This is not to say that these works are “historical” in being factually true in all respects, but that they are—on the basis of the understanding of history in antiquity—concerned to represent what was considered actual, in accordance with a rhetorical purpose. This is true even in regard to the biography of Moses, De vita Mosis, which Sterling (2018) considers to be an introduction to Philo’s Exposition of the Law. For Philo Moses was a real person, even though also the most perfect of all human beings (Feldman 2007). The treatise’s place may also be understood in terms of the manuscript tradition, for which see below on Text, Translations and Commentaries (pp. 41–44). The usual title for the treatise is Περὶ βίου θεωρητικοῦ ἢ ἱκετῶν ἀρετῶν [τὸ] δ or Περὶ βίου θεωρητικοῦ ἢ ἱκετῶν ἀρετῆς τὸ τέταρτον, meaning “On the Contemplative Life or On Suppliants—On Virtues no. 4” or “On the Contemplative Life or On Suppliants—On Virtues the fourth part” (Morris 1987, 856, n. 189). Eusebius gives it similarly two names: Περὶ βίου θεωρητικοῦ ἢ ἱκετῶν (Hist. eccles. 2.17.3; 2.18.7), “On the Contemplative Life or On Suppliants,” though he does not mention it as being part of a larger work titled On Virtues, and neither does the Armenian version. The title ἱκέται ἢ περὶ ἀρετῶν τὸ δ, “Suppliants or On Virtues no. 4” is found in Cod. Paris. 435 (manuscript A; see Conybeare 1895, 25). The

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Latin manuscripts are similar, except one in Basel published by Jean Sichard in 1527 has the title of “On Essenes,” De Essaeis, with an explanation: Philonis Iudaei liber de statu Essaeorum, id est Monachorum qui temporibus Agrippae regis monasteria sibi fecerunt, “a book by Philo the Jew about the situation of the Essenes—that is of monks who in the time of Agrippa the King made themselves monasteries,” a late and quite fanciful explanation of the identity of the group in question which seems to derive from Eusebius (for discussion see Carlier 1996), and one that probably assumes that the Essenes were Hebrew Christians, or at least philosophical ancestors of Christians, the latter being a Eusebian view, as Inowlocki (2006, 252–263) has explored. The final part of the common heading would make the treatise the fourth part of a five-part work titled Περὶ ἀρετῶν, On Virtues. However, Philo’s partially extant work named in Latin De virtutibus, “On Virtues,” is actually an appendix to De specialibus legibus, and named in Greek Περὶ τριῶν ἀρετῶν ἅ σὺν ἄλλαις ἀνέγραψε Μωυςῆς: “On Three Virtues which, with others, are described by Moses” (Eusebius, Hist. eccles. 2.18.2, and see Wilson 2010). Therefore, we need to look for another larger work titled On Virtues. The other treatise usually linked with this larger work, On Virtues, is actually Legatio. Nearly all manuscripts of Legatio state that it is the first part of On Virtues (Colson, PLCL 10:xiv; Morris 1987, 859–864), which is surprising given the length of our extant texts of Legatio. In Leg. 373 Philo indicates that the work was followed by a “palinode”, and, since παλινωδία can mean “recantation”, one could suppose it deals with the sorry end of Gaius Caligula, persecutor of the Jews. We can see from Contempl. 1 that there was a preceding treatise about the Essenes, which would have been On Virtues 3. If we used only this manuscript tradition, and the internal evidence of the texts themselves, we would arrive at the conclusion that On Virtues was made up by (i.) Legatio; (ii.) the Palinode; (iii.) a treatise on the Essenes, on the “Active Life” of philosophy; (iv.) Contempl. and, probably, (v.) a missing final treatise (see Taylor 2003, 37). However, this neat solution is complicated by what Eusebius writes. As noted, unlike what we have in the Greek manuscript tradition, Eusebius did not associate Contempl. with On Virtues. Eusebius states that Philo related what happened to the Jews in the time of Gaius in five books, and he summarizes the whole of Legatio as comprising these (Hist. eccles. 2.5.1). He states that he read this work, named On Virtues, to the Roman Senate in the reign of Claudius (Hist. eccles. 2.18.8); in Hist. eccles. 2.5.6 the books are identified also as the Πρεσβεία, indicating the Greek title of Legatio: Πρεσβείας πρὸς Γάϊον. Nothing in Eusebius’s reference to this work indicates he has anything but Legatio in mind. Passing over most of the early part he mentions Tiberius Sejanus working against the Jews (Legat. 159–161), Pilate’s actions, which he considers as being

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against the Temple (Legat. 299–305 cf. Dem. ev. 7.2.123, cf. A.J. 18.55–59; B.J. 2.169–177), and then the threat to the Temple, quoting Legat. 346 (Hist. eccles. 2.6.2). This correlates well with what he has stated regarding Legatio in Hist. eccles. 5.1 and everything we know of the treatise. Thus, not without reason, Colson (PLCL 10:xxiv–xxvi) considered that in fact all the five books referred to by Eusebius as composing On Virtues were what we know as the Legatio. For example, Eusebius states that Philo “relates historically” innumerable other atrocities “in the second [part in a] treatise which he titled On Virtues”: ἐν δευτέρῳ συγγράμματι ὧ ἐπέγραψεν Περὶ ἀρετῶν ἱστορεῖ (Hist. eccles. 2.6.3, though see note on the possible manuscript error in Lake, LCL, 122–123). Rufinus’s Latin translation has Eusebius stating here: “In the second of the books which he wrote entitled On Virtues.” Such atrocities are outlined in Legat. 120–139, which might mean that Rufinus thought that this section of Legatio formed part of the second book. In Jerome’s Latin version of Eusebius’s Chronicon, Sejanus is mentioned in the second part of Legatio/ Πρεσβεία (Morris 1987, 860, n. 198), which means that Legatio was understood to be divided into parts, and the second part includes the atrocities (Legat. 120–139) and Sejanus (Legat. 159–161). Eusebius does not seem to know that Contempl. was included with On Virtues. However, Colson’s solution is not the only one offered. To complicate matters, in the Armenian translation of the Chronicon Eusebius states that Flacc. is the second part of On Virtues (Morris 1987, 860, n. 198). It may also be read that Rufinus thought the whole of Legatio was the first of a five part work, named On Virtues, rather than a work in five parts. In this view (as read by Taylor 2003, 31–39) we arrive at the manuscript tradition of the title of Legatio as the first part of this longer work, as above. It is then a case of considering what other parts there were originally. Some have sought to include Flacc., based on the Armenian attestation, which does indeed deal with what happened to the Jews in the time of Gaius (Hist. eccles. 2.5.1; see van der Horst 2003). That might, however, mean re-ordering the sequence. Van der Horst has suggested that On Virtues was composed by i. a work on Pilate; ii. a work on Sejanus; iii. In Flaccum; iv. Legatio and v. the Palinode. The internal evidence of Flaccus does indicate a larger work in which it was embedded: atrocities are found again in Flaccus 33– 39, but the beginning of Flaccus indicates that it was preceded by an account of the charges against the Jews by Sejanus (so Flacc. 1), and the ending refers to the suffering of a persecutor (Flacc. 191), presumably Sejanus himself, which does not correlate with Legatio. As for Legatio, Philo refers to a “palinode” or “recantation,” in the final sentence of Legat. (373). It should not refer to Sejanus but Gaius, because Sejanus is not the subject of the work (Morris 1987, 860–861; Colson, PLCL 10:xvi–xvii). There must have been a treatise about how Sejanus persecuted Jews and came to a sorry end, which then created a backdrop for

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Flaccus. Flaccus is all about emphasizing that those who do terrible things to the Jews will be punished, giving “undoubted proof that God has not withdrawn from the Jewish people” (Flacc. 191), and virtue is not the issue (for commentaries see Box 1979 and van der Horst 2003). Another possibility suggested by Morris (1987, 861) is that there was a collection on the theme of persecution and providence, beginning with i. an introduction to this theme; ii. a work on Pilate; iii. In Flaccum; iv. Legatio and v. the Palinode (see above, Sterling, p. XIII). The question of how later readers arranged Philo’s works is complex, and their arrangements, reflected in manuscripts, may not reflect Philo’s ordering or naming. The history of collections and their transfer must be borne in mind. For example, once in large part Origen’s personal library (Runia 1993, 119–123), the scrolls and codices in the library of Caesarea may have been grouped in an order that suited the users rather than in a way true to the compositions. Titles of Philo’s works could be malleable. For example, Photius, the 9th-century Bishop of Constantinople, mentions in his Lexicon (103) the ‘Allegories of the Sacred Laws of the Jews’ (τοῦ Ἰουδαίου νόμων ἱερῶν ἀλληγορίαι), meaning Leg., and also ‘On the Civil Life’ (περὶ βίου πολιτικοῦ), meaning Ios., but then a ‘Censure of Gaius’, Γάϊος ψεγόμενος, along with a ‘Flaccus’ or ‘A Censure of Flaccus’, Φλάκκος ἢ Φλάκκων ψεγόμενος (= Flacc.). The former might be Legat., but it might also well be the missing Palinode. Medieval titles deriving from library arrangements—which we cannot surely trace to early texts—are then probably of less worth than the internal features of any given treatise in establishing where it belongs within the Philonic corpus. So, while on the one hand there may be an arrangement titled On Virtues, of which Contempl. is the 4th part, on the other hand we have an arrangement in which Legatio is On Virtues in its entirety (in the library of Caesarea). As we have seen, the internal evidence of Contempl. 1 indicates an immediately preceding treatise about the Essenes as representatives of the active— practical and politically involved—life of philosophy, and nothing is stated about it being a section of a larger work exploring the theme of virtue. Eusebius does not highlight this other piece, but he may still have known it. Eusebius did know two other linked texts, “Every wicked person is a slave” (a lost treatise) and “Every good person is free” (Prob., which includes a section, 75–91, concerning the Essenes), which shows that Philo himself could create a duo of linked philosophical treatises to represent the excellence of Jews, using the Essenes with another example (the Therapeutae?). Perhaps the companion piece did not exist in the library of Caesarea, but Photius (Lex. 104) knew one on the active life of Essenes, as he notes two pieces (βίοι) as “Read: lives of those who among the Jews adopted philosophical lifestyles of either contemplative or act-

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ive philosophy, the Essenes and the Therapeutae”: Ἀνεγνώσθη δὲ καὶ τῶν παρὰ Ἰουδαίοις φιλοσοφησάντων τήν τε θεωρητικὴν καὶ τὴν πρακτικὴν φιλοσοφίαν βίοι· ὧν οἱ μὲν Ἐσσηνοὶ οἱ δὲ θεραπευταὶ ἐκαλοῦντο. Eusebius himself seems to imply that Contempl. was a late, standalone composition, because he believed it was about Christians (Hist. eccles. 2.17.1; 18.7–8). But he himself may have presented it as such for his own reasons, to stress the treatise as singular, indicative of Christians. In short, what Eusebius defined as On Virtues (i.e., Legatio) might not have been On Virtues as written by Philo, if Philo wrote such a themed collection at all. Centuries had passed since Philo’s work was first circulated and the association of treatises with larger wholes might have been severely disrupted, especially given the loss of works. Multiple designations for the same treatise and where it belonged—as evidenced in the naming of Contempl.—could well have been complemented by confusions of names of treatises. For example, the passages Eusebius quotes in Praep. ev. 8.6–7 and 11 derive from a work Eusebius identifies as the Hypothetica. This work “argued on behalf of the Jews against their accusers” (see Sterling 2010; I:i. Praep. ev. 8.6.1–9; ii. 8.7.1–20 and II: Praep. ev. 8.11.1–18). This title may not be secure, because elsewhere Eusebius refers to it as an apology “about Jews,” ὐπὲρ Ἰουδαίων (Praep. ev. 8.11). He could also refer to it vaguely as a work “concerning Jews”, περὶ Ἰουδαίων (Hist. eccles. 2.18.6). While it is listed in Eusebius’s catalogue as a single work, like Contempl., in Praep. ev. 8.5.11 it is identified as a multipartite work, answering those like Apion who accused the Jews (Morris 1987, 266–268). Tantalizingly, this mysterious and largely lost work did actually contain a treatise with a description of the Essenes such as we would expect from Contempl. 1. As discussed by Taylor (2012, 39–46), the Essenes presented here are actively busy, living in many cities and villages of Judaea, committed to community and public life and not detached. Their reputation is such that they are greatly honoured by “great kings” as well as “ordinary” people (Hypoth. 11.1.18). Eusebius has thus excerpted sections of a treatise presenting them as exhibiting an active life, in accordance with Stoic notions. There is no indication in Eusebius of how a description of the Essenes would have fitted with the general themes of Hypothetica and Eusebius was clearly selective. Nevertheless, it was written in the same Roman context we have suggested for Contempl., given its concern to refute the Hellene opposition. As Sterling (2013, 2503) notes, it is likely that Philo wrote the Hypothetica in preparation for his role in the embassy in Rome, in order to address the accusations of Chaeremon and Apion (see Hypoth. 8.6.5). The first part of the Hypothetica, according to Eusebius, concerns the Exodus and aspects of Mosaic law, including the Sabbath (Boesenberg 2010), which

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shows a correspondence with what is countered regarding Apion’s accusations by Josephus, in his Contra Apionem (see Colson, PLCL 9:409; Sterling 2004, 36–39). There is no indication of how many parts the Hypothetica had, but there was a first treatise, since Eusebius writes of a passage: “from the first part of a work he titled Hypothetica” (ἀπὸ τοῦ πρώτου συγγράμματος ὧν ἐπέγραψεν Ὑποθετικῶν, Praep. ev. 8.5.11; 8.8.5). From this, one may deduce that the title Hypothetica (note plural) occurred on the manuscript Eusebius consulted, and Eusebius thought Philo entitled it as such, but Ὑποθετικῶν is a hapax legomenon in Philo; he does not use the adjective ὑποθετικός elsewhere, though it is found in Epictetus (Disc. 1.1.7, 25, 26; 2.2.21; 3.3.2, 24) in the sense of “hypothetical propositions” that form part of an argument. He does use the term ὑποθήκη (Somn. 2.73; Spec. 1.299; 3.29; Virt. 10) in the sense of “admonition” (Sterling 2013, 2502). If it is not Philo’s usage, then it might be a title attached to a work of Philo by someone who read his work as having a collection of hypothetical propositions “concerning Jews”. Some have even questioned if it is by Philo, given its different style and content (see Colson PLCL 9:407–408, note b). We may nevertheless wonder if we have fragments in Eusebius of a longer philosophical (and apologetic) work that could otherwise have been known as On Virtues. Virtue (ἀρετή) is clearly a key theme in Contempl., and the contemplative life is simply one way of following virtue. We have virtue mentioned explicitly at both the beginning and at the end of the treatise (Contempl. 1, 90, see Runia 1997, 7–11), and also at points throughout (26, 34, 60, 72). The Therapeutae “visualize in dreams nothing else but the beauties of the divine virtues” (Contempl. 26); “putting down beforehand self-control as a kind of foundation of the soul, they build up the other virtues (on it)” (Contempl. 34). More specifically, they (unlike the opposition) maintain “manliness/courage” (ἀνδρεία), “the most useful virtue in war and peace” (Contempl. 60) and they aspire to the peak of virtue (Contempl. 72). The distinction between “virtue” in general (ἀρετή) and “manliness” (andreia, for which see Rosen 2003) was easier to make in Greek than in Latin. In Latin, virtus, “virtue” (from the Latin for “man”, vir), originally meaning “courage”, was much the same word as andreia, but it became the word for virtue in general, and specific aspects of virtus could then be explicated on Greek lines (see McDonnell 2006, 12–141). For example, Cicero (Tusc. 2.43) wrote: Though all right states of the soul are called virtues, the term is not proper for them all, but all have got the term from the one that excels the rest, for virtus is from the word for “man” (vir); but man’s proper virtue is courage ( fortitudo), of which there are two main functions, namely a contempt of death and pain. Therefore, we should be provided with these if we would

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be men possessing virtue, or rather, if we want to be men, because virtue obtains its name from vir. Despite the linkage of virtus with masculinity, virtue in Roman terms could also be ascribed to exceptional women: a woman named Caecilia Metella displayed virtus when saving a man hunted by killers (Cicero, Rosc. Amer. 27) and Cicero sees it in his daughter Tullia (Fam. 14.11; Att. 10.8) and his wife Terentia (Fam. 14.1; see McDonnell 2006, 162–165). In Greek, the word for virtue, aretē, is feminine and more general, with andreia functioning as one of the virtues. Manly virtue, andreia was linked with other virtues, particularly the fourth of Aristotle’s cardinal virtues, “self-control” (ἐγκράτεια, see Contempl. 34). It would follow then that this essay could form an appropriate part of a work titled On Virtues, for a Roman audience, as the sub-heading indicates, despite Eusebius’s use of this title for Legatio. We would then expect there could have been a series of treatises that specifically address virtue in each case, yet all designed with an apologetic purpose “concerning Jews”, in that they were meant to defend them against their accusers. If we were to look to the Hypothetica as the overarching umbrella, then the first treatise would have included the Exodus from Egypt, which would make Contempl. 85–88 neatly link back to it. However, all propositions must remain, of course, conjectures.

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Structure: The Two Ways

The structure of the treatise is built on the basis of the good example of the Therapeutae, illustrating a life of virtue, contrasted with examples from Hellenic and Graeco-Egyptian culture, which fail to provide such good examples. Underlying the presentations of features of these examples is a notion of the Two Ways of truth and falsehood, with the inadequate models being illustrative of falsehood, and the Therapeutae’s practices illustrative of truth. Of the 90 sections of this text, 35 of these concern the examples of wrong thinking, manifesting itself in various types of behaviour that lack virtue. The prime subject of the treatise concerns festive symposia (banquets/dinners), where the differences are most strongly highlighted. Various structures for the work have been provided by commentators (e.g., Martin 2009, 155–156). The following structure highlights the models used and the topics discussed. The “falsehood” category of poor examples are indicated in italics, so that the Two Ways structure is more easily seen.

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Chapter 1: Introduction (§§1–11) A Another Example of Virtue: the true “ministers” (Therapeutae) of God, who heal the soul (§§1–2) B Poor Examples: contrast false examples in varieties of Graeco-Egyptian piety §§3–10 C The Example of Virtue (Return): the ministers (Therapeutae), who constitute an order that leads to happiness (§11) Chapter 2: The Good Example (§§12–39) A Property i they are so inspired that they leave their property to family (§ 12– 13) contrast false examples of Anaxagoras and Democritus (§§ 14–15) return to true example, underscored by quote from Homer (§§ 16– 17) B Location ii they leave their homes in cities to live in cultivations and smallholdings (§§18–20) contrast: noisy cities §19 return to the “best” go to Lake Mareotis, well located (§§ 21–23) C Housing iii their individual homes in solitude (§§ 24–29) are: basic, not too close, but not far away (§ 24) contrast dwellings in close proximity (§ 24) provided with an individual sanctuary or solitarium for understanding and piety (§25), so that: a they never forget God and the doctrines of the sacred philosophy (§26) b they pray twice a day, associating light with heavenly light and dark with objects of sense (§27) c they philosophize all day, interpreting allegorically the ancient writings and making music (§§ 28–29) implied contrasts iv their common sanctuary is well-designed, and they assemble in an orderly way for perfect discourses (§§ 30–33), such that: a the most senior person speaks in the best way possible, and all listen appropriately (§31) b the arrangement of the common sanctuary protects the modesty of women (§§32–33) implied contrasts

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D

Food v Building on the virtue of self-control, they do not eat or drink before sunset (light associated with philosophy, darkness with bodily needs), some do not eat until after 3 days, some after 6 days (§§ 34– 35) vi The seventh day is a holy day in which they rest, eat and drink, but very sparingly (§§36–37) implied contrasts Clothing vii Their clothing is also very basic, just a thick cloak for winter and simple light dress for summer (§38) implied contrasts Conclusion of Features: The Two Ways Everything they do is to avoid conceitedness, which is the origin of falsehood, with unconceitedness being the origin of truth; fountain of truth and falsehood (§39)

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Chapter 3: The Wrong Symposia (§§40–63) A Intoxication (§§40–47), leading to violence and ruin B Luxury (§§ 48–56), leading to lust and gluttony C Poor Models (§§57–63), leading to debasement and pederasty Chapter 4: The Right Symposia (§§64–89) A Superior Philosophy, based on the instructions of Moses (§ 64); occur on the 49th day (§65) B Peace and Order: initial group prayer (§66); order of reclining (§ 67) C Rejection of Pleasure: women reject having children (§ 68); couches very simple (§69) D Equality: no slaves, juniors serve seniors (§§ 70–72) E Sobriety: plain food and drink: water, bread, salt, hyssop (§§ 73–74) F Edification: discourse of the President, without rhetorical display (§§ 75– 77); use of allegory (§§78–79) G Musicality: singing of hymns (§80) H Modesty: return to the plain meal: bread, salt, hyssop (§§ 81–82) I Piety: all-night sacred event, with inspired hymn singing and dancing modelled on that led by Moses and Miriam at the Red Sea, focusing on piety (§§83–89)

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Chapter 5: Conclusion (§90) The Therapeutae are balanced between heaven and world, a true example of virtue, reaching supreme happiness (§90)

5

Texts, Translations and Commentaries

The text of De vita contemplativa is established on the basis of Medieval Greek manuscripts, but also by reference in particular to the Armenian version (see C-W VI; Conybeare 1895, 1–24). i Greek Manuscripts and Editions There are several categories of manuscripts used to establish Philo’s original treatise. These have been most carefully discussed by Conybeare (1895, 1–9; cf. Graffigna 1992, 28–30; Morris, 1987, 856–858). The most important of the many Greek manuscripts of Philo’s treatise are the following: A B C D E G H I K L M O P Q

Parisinus 435, 11th cent. Marcianus (= Venetus) 41, 13th cent. Marcianus (= Venetus) 40, 14th cent. Cod. Oxoniensis Collegii Novi 143, 16th cent. Cod. Parisiensis Coislinianus 43, 16th cent. Parisinus 433, 14th–15th cent. Parisinus 434, 16th cent. Parisinus 2221, 16th cent. Marcianus (= Venetus) 39, 15th cent. Cod. B. 9. 6 Biblioteca Trinity College, Cambridge, 16th cent.4 Monacensis Graecus 459, 13th cent. Vaticanus—Palatinus Graecus 248, 14th–15th cent. Mediceus—Laurentianus 20 plut. 10, 13th cent. Laurentianus 10 plut. 85, 15th century

These have relationships, so that agreements can be found in certain groupings, as follows:

4 It should be noted that the manuscript L (16th cent.) listed in Graffigna (1992, 29) as being in Oxford is in fact in the Wren Library at Trinity College Cambridge (see Conybeare 1895, 2). Fortunately, this is a manuscript it was possible to consult during the writing of this commentary.

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Consensus codicum C G H I K Consensus codicum B D E M

Note, however, that while C-W place A, L, O, P and Q outside of the two groups, Conybeare includes L within γ, with P having some correlations with β. The stemma has been given by Conybeare (1895, 21). The Greek manuscripts share lacunae at Contempl. 18 and 33, indicating a common ancestor. ii Eusebius’s version (Eus.) There is an extensive quotation—though largely a partial epitome—from De vita contemplativa in Eusebius’s Ecclesiastical History (Hist. eccles. 2.17), and therefore Medieval Greek manuscripts of this work are important. The Greek text used by Eusebius might have had a lacuna at Contempl. 78. Eusebius does not quote from Contempl. 18 or 33 so one cannot determine whether there were lacunae here. Greek manuscripts of the Historia ecclesiastica date from the Middle Ages (see Eusebius, ed. Kirsopp Lake [1926], xxvii–xxx) and the standard edition for this section is that of Edouard Schwartz (1903). However, there is a Syriac version of Eusebius’s history in the St. Petersburg Public Library, Russia, dating to the 5th century: folio 123 verso states that it was written in A. Gr. 773—meaning the year 462CE—by someone named Isaac for a recipient whose name is no longer readable. In addition, there is the British Library Additional manuscript 14639 in Syriac, containing Eusebius, Hist. eccles. books 1–5, which was originally dated in the colophon but this is erased. Both manuscripts were used for a Syriac edition of the Historia ecclesiastica by William Wright and Norman McLean (1898), who date the earliest manuscript to the year 411, produced in Edessa. This has not been translated into English. Importantly, the Syriac edition was published after Conybeare’s (1895) work, and thus did not get included in his review of early versions of Contempl. A Latin version of Eusebius’ Historia ecclesiastica was produced by Rufinus in 401 CE, though it can paraphrase and have expansions. Eusebius’s text can appear in quotation in other works, most importantly in Ps.-Dionysius the Areopagite, as Conybeare notes: “The Eusebian excerpts are frequently found in manuscripts of the De Coelesti Hierarchia of the pseudoDionysius Areopagita. Thus, in a Florentine Codex, San Marco 686, a wellwritten parchment book of the tenth century, they follow the De Coel. Hier. f. 216 v … The excerpts, as in this codex, were collated for me by Dr. Bostagno, and I have added a few of its readings. That they were transferred at an early date into copies of the pseudo-Dionysius is clear, for Scotus Erigena already in the ninth century included them in his barbarous Latin Version of that writer” (Cony-

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beare 1895, 181). There is a 10th century manuscript of Ps.-Dionysius the Areopagite in the British Library, dated to the first half of the 10th century, MS 36821, ff. 198v–200v (now digitized and online), which matches the manuscript noted by Conybeare. iii The Armenian Version (Arm.) An Armenian translation from the Syriac was printed at Venice in 1822, based on four manuscripts, which flowed from the same architype (Σ). According to the chronicle of Moses of Chorene (III. 60), Mesrop Mashtots, the inventor of the Armenian script, and Isaac the Great sent translators to Edessa to make Armenian copies from Syriac of all the church fathers. Conybeare (1895, 154– 180, with the text) thus dates its origins very early in the 5th century. However, it has been redated to the 2nd half of the 6th century (Terian 2019, 2). Since the Armenian version and the Greek text used by Eusebius share a common lacuna at Contempl. 78, perhaps the Syriac text used for this translation was in turn based on the early Greek text used by Eusebius. Of the 176 Armenian variants only 33 have been adopted in C-W (Terian 2019, 6–10). For a detailed discussion of the text in the light of the Armenian version, see Sgarbi (1992, and also Muradyan 2011, 60–65). iv The Old Latin Version (Lat.) There is an Old Latin translation in two recensions, dating originally to the 4th– 5th centuries, and a more recent Latin recension (Conybeare 1895, 139–145; text 146–153). More study is needed on both of these. As with all the treatises of Philo of Alexandria, modern translators and commentators tend to make their own judgements at times in regard to the different readings available in the codices, and arguably it is time for a new edition of the Greek text that would in particular take into account the further work done on the Armenian, and much text critical work could be done using the Latin and Syriac. While the C-W text will be the foundation of this translation and commentary, as in the commentary series as a whole, other judgements on the text will be taken into account where particularly relevant to translation and understanding. v Editions of the Treatise The editio princeps of Philo’s work in Greek is that of Adrien Turnebus (1552). Some two hundred years later De vita contemplativa appeared the new edition of Thomas Mangey (1742), 471–486. De vita contemplativa was published with critical tools and careful manuscript work by Leopold Cohn and Siegfried Reiter

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(1915), 46–71 (editio minor: vi, pp. 32–50), abbreviated in this commentary as C-W, and this is the edition largely used here. A Greek text closely modelled on that of C-W VI: 46–71, though with some variants, was published in 1941 Francis H. Colson in the Loeb series, and subsequently issued in four reprintings (PLCL 9; 1941, 1967 [4th]), 112–169. There is also the older Greek text of Frederick C. Conybeare (1895, repr. 1987), who provided a thorough survey of the manuscripts and editions, with translation and notes, and whose English translation was highly influential, and see also Conybeare (1894). Overall, Conybeare (1895, 25–135) saw the Greek text of the extant codices as quite late and defines a family tree of 1915 manuscripts which privileges the Armenian version and the Eusebian extract (Eusebius, Hist. eccles. 2.17–18, which he dates to 315CE). The Greek text of C-W, also with some variants, with a French translation and notes is found in François Daumas and Pierre Miquel (1963). A Greek edition with Italian translation and notes is provided by Paola Graffigna (1992). The Loeb Classical Library (PLCL) text by Colson, being the Greek text most generally available, does likewise and is also a key focus in this commentary. For the Greek text used here, the C-W edition is the basis, with textual notes provided for points where there have been debates about authenticity. For full textual data, see C-W. vi Modern Translations and Commentaries Apart from Colson, PLCL 9:112–169 and Conybeare (1894) there are the translations of Yonge (1854–1855; repr. 1993), 698–706; Tilden (1922); Winston (1981); Corrington (1990), 134–155. A German translation was published from C-W by Karl Bormann (1964). The Italian translation is provided by of Paola Graffigna (1992). French translations include that of Pierre Geoltrain (1960) and Daumas and Miquel (1963, and see for further their discussion on p. 72). Spanish translations have been published by José Maria Trivino (1975–1976) and also José Pablo Martin (2009). In Hebrew there is the edition of S. Daniel-Nataf (1986). The current translation does not aim to critique all modern renderings of the work in question, but will query Colson’s text in English, where relevant, with reference to other translations also. This is because of the widespread popularity and influence of the Loeb texts of Philo.

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Nachleben: The Christian Use of De Vita Contemplativa

While Philo of Alexandria was a towering Jewish figure in the 1st century, later rabbinic literature avoided mentioning him. This may well be because early on much use was being made of him in Christian circles, so there was a perceived need for distinction and separation by the time rabbinic material was written down, and there was also a suspicion of allegorical interpretation (see Najman 2000). It was not until the 16th century that the Jewish scholar Azariah dei Rossi rediscovered and used Philo (Runia 1993, 32–33). In Christian circles, however, Contempl. has been one of Philo of Alexandria’s most influential works, largely through the use made of this treatise by Eusebius of Caesarea early in the 4th century (Runia 1993, 217–221, 227–231, 249–251, 315). The Therapeutae could be identified with the early Christians of Egypt, though also with the Essenes (see Runia 2016, 270–272, 274). As noted above, Eusebius included sections of Contempl. in his influential work, the Historia ecclesiastica (2.17, and see Eusebius, ed. Lake, I: xxvii–xxx), assuming everyone would recognize the similarities between the practices of Philo’s “ministers” and the Christian churches in Egypt. Eusebius says that Philo went to Rome specifically to speak to Peter and that he honoured and recognized the divine mission of the “apostolic men of his time.” Eusebius asserts that Philo’s Therapeutae were simply the early Christians of Alexandria, since his treatise “contains the rules of the church which are still observed in our own time.” Indeed, this shows that Eusebius found Philo’s account of the lifestyle of the Therapeutae realistic and believable rather than an idealization or a work of fantasy. Apparently, he thought Philo’s Therapeutae were all “Hebrew” Jewish-Christians (Hist. eccles 2.17.2). This identification has the advantage for Eusebius of seeming to provide knowledge about early Christianity in Egypt, a subject about which he seems to have little information otherwise. The passages of Philo included in Eusebius’s work are also among the oldest manuscripts in the world, since these exist in a Syriac text of Historia ecclesiastica, dated to the year 411, produced in Edessa. An edition of the Syriac text, made over a century ago by William Wright and Norman McLean, has never been translated, even in terms of this one section (see Wright and McLean 1898, 86–92), but one thing to note here is that the Syriac-speaking Christians clearly understood the words θεραπευταί and θεραπευτρίδες as indicating “ministering people,” so in Syriac the terms are simply meniḥane’ (masc.) and meniḥanitha’ (fem.), “ministers” (Payne Smith 1903, 281–282, and see discussion below on the meaning of the term). For Eusebius, also, they were called “ministers” because they provided a healing ministry to the soul, acting like physicians, or because they served and worshipped God in purity and sincerity (Hist. eccles. 2.17.3). It

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was a specific designation, either because this suited their manner of life, or because they called themselves by this name, since the name “Christians,” he states, was not known (2.17.4). These were people who typified the life of “very philosophical and vehement asceticism” (Hist. eccles. 2.16.2) known among Christians. Eusebius thought that the inclusion of women in the group was particularly important, since women’s participation was something “found only in the evangelical worship of the Christians” (Hist. eccles. 2.17.18), presumably in contrast to what he knew of philosophy of his era. He states, by way of introduction: But indeed from what is in [Philo’s] very accurate investigations of the life of ascetics among us it is very clear not only that he knew but also accepted the divine and reverent matters of the apostolic men around him, who were from the [nation of] Hebrews, as it would appear, being very Jewish, and they still kept most of the customs of old. Eusebius, Hist. eccles. 2.17.2

In other words, since the people praised in Contempl. seemed so clearly to be Christians, there were people within the early church who assumed that Philo must himself have been converted to Christianity, and there were stories to support this notion. Eusebius states that he travelled to Rome not only to represent the Jews of Alexandria to Gaius Caligula in 39 CE, as recorded in his work Legatio ad Gaium, but also again early in the reign of Claudius, c. 41 CE, and adds that at this time he met the apostle Peter and was converted to Christian belief (Hist. eccles. 2.17.1; 18.7–8). Thus, Eusebius can say: About this Philo became known to many, a man much esteemed not only among our people (οὐ μόνον τῶν ἡμετέρων), but also among those who had sprung from outside (i.e., classical) education. He was ethnically Hebrew by origin, and second to none in terms of the illustrious men in Alexandria. It is clear to all concerning the work (he did) how hard he toiled in the Scriptures and the nation’s learning. It is hardly necessary to speak of his position in regard to philosophy and the liberal arts of outside education, especially in his keen study of Plato and Pythagoras, in which it is related that he surpassed all of his contemporaries. Eusebius, Hist. eccles. 2.4.2–3

Contempl. was probably implicitly referenced in Ps.-Dionysius the Areopagite (c. 450 CE), in his De ecclesiastica hierarchia (532c–533a, cf. Ep. 1, 2, 4, 8 see Heil and Ritter 1991), where the author identifies monks as θεραπευτάς, named

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for their duty and service to God, before outlining a monastic consecration. Perhaps because of this usage, the Eusebian text of Philo is included in some manuscripts of Ps.-Dionysius (see above, Texts and Translations, p. 42), supplying a useful further resource for the Eusebian version of key segments of Philo’s treatise, though they have not yet been explored. With these influential writers utilizing the treatise, Philo was proudly defined as an exemplary Christian intellectual, providing a prototype for the Alexandrian school of Christian intellectuals that would use his writings with such enthusiasm, as we see in the works of Clement of Alexandria (150–215) and Origen (185–254), continuing the exegesis of Pantaenus (died c. 190; for further see in particular the work of van den Hoek 1988; 1997a; 1997b; 2000), but the period between Philo and Pantaenus is little understood. It is very possible that this notion of Philo being a Christian arose quite early on, perhaps preserved in a lost work of Clement of Alexandria, as David Runia has explored (Runia 1993, 7). Jerome testifies to this story that has Philo and Peter becoming close friends in Rome, which is why Philo praised Mark’s disciples in Alexandria so fulsomely (Jerome, Vir. ill. 8, 11). Epiphanius, in the late fifth century, says that Philo joined in the “Easter” celebrations of these Christians described in Contempl. (Pan. 1.29.5.1–3; see Runia 1993, 3–7; 1999b, 365–445). We can see the “Christian Philo” beautifully portrayed multiple times in the lavishly illustrated 9th-century (idiosyncratic) manuscript of the Sacra Parallela, now in the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris (Paris Cod. Gr. 923, e.g., fol. 305v): he is distinctively identified as having short black hair and a short black beard, along with a sash bearing red crosses, unlike Josephus, who is invariably presented without a cross on his clothing (see Figure 1). At Oxyrhynchus, Egypt, parts of a paginated 3rd-century codex (LDAB 3540) were discovered, and the fragments were published as P.Oxy. 9.1173, P.Oxy. 11.1356, PSI 11.1207, P.Oxy. 18.2158 and P. Haun. 1.8. Another part, comprising 4 lines of a papyrus leaf, is now published as P.Oxy. 82.5291. The codex itself as been reconstructed by James Royse as containing Sacr., Leg. 1 and 2, a section of Virt. (de Pietate), Ebr, Post and Det. Another 3rd-century (?) codex in the Bibliothèque Nationale (Parisinus suppl. gr. 1120; LDAB 3541), the “Coptos codex” has over 44 folio leaves and contains Her. and Sacr. (Royse 1980, 2016; Nongbri 2018, 247–268). Published by Jean-Vincent Scheil in 1893, it is referred to as ‘pap.’ in C-W. The preservation of these manuscripts in Roman Egypt, when the Jewish community of Philo’s own time was far from thriving, is likely to be because Philo enjoyed a large readership among Christians. David Runia (2002, 203–206) has noted that since the Coptos codex was discovered with binding made out of old manuscripts of the New Testament (𝔓4), it would have been produced in Christian circles. Its text—with peculiarly Christian abbreviations

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Philo in the 9th-century Sacra Parallela Cod. Gr. 923, Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris

of the nomina sacra—points to a Christian scribe. Thus, there is archaeological evidence, in the form of a material artefact, that testifies to Philo being read by Christians in Egypt at the later 3rd century (if the dating is correct). While it does not evidence Contempl., the Coptos codex is highly significant in that it shows numerous superior readings to the Medieval Philo manuscripts (indicating we should be aware of possible deteriorations in our texts), and biblical citations that agree strongly with the LXX, when the later manuscripts have been influenced by a different Greek version: that of Aquila (Royse 2016). A well-made, “deluxe” book, with a leather cover, it was allegedly placed in a wall space with salt (for preservation), most likely for reasons of safety. Runia has also explored the impact of Philo on the works of the 4th-century scholar Didymus the Blind, which shows the continued esteem he had in the city at this time (Runia 2002, 214–218; see also Layton 2004, 135–157). As noted in the above discussions of texts, the Eusebian passage on Contempl. is also found in manuscript copies of the 5th-century Ps.-Dionysius the Areopagite, showing its circulation and importance in a Christian milieu. Photius read Contempl. as describing Jews who were also Christians: he states that the Therapeutae

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“built monasteria and semneia, to use their own words, and set down beforehand the administration of monks today”. Photius follows Eusebius in thinking that Philo was converted to Christianity by Peter, which is why he thought that the “disciples of Mark” were praiseworthy, and lived a contemplative life among the Jews, living in monasteria, and leading an ascetic life of fasting, prayer, and poverty (Lex. 105). This was a very influential view. Edward Gibbon, in the 18th century, could consider the Therapeutae to be the “fathers of the Egyptian ascetics” (Machielsen 2016, 239). Perhaps what is most interesting in terms of its Christian Nachleben is to ask what effect all this might have had on Christian practice in Egypt. Given that here was a text that provided a detailed account of people that were considered to be disciples of Mark, the lifestyle described would have been considered foundational. The parallels that exist between the life of the Therapeutae and what developed as early asceticism in Egypt led Lucius (1879) to agree with Eusebius that the work must surely refer to Christians, but then he thought it could not be genuine. Since Conybeare’s refutation of Lucius (1895), the clearly Philonic language, style and themes—not to mention discrepancies between Contempl. and Christian practice and terminology—are now better understood, and no one now seriously questions that Philo is the author and that he is writing about Jews who did not have Christian beliefs. However, the parallels with later Christian asceticism and practices of the Coptic church itself are worthy of consideration in another way: could Egyptian Christianity have used Contempl. as a kind of guide for the establishment of communities that would in some way replicate the prototype of the “earliest Christians” described in Philo’s treatise? Peter Richardson (1993) has argued that there are clear similarities between the form the small dwellings in the Byzantine Christian monastery network in the Kellia, centred 85km south of Alexandria, occupied from the end of the 4th century onwards, and the dwellings described in Contempl. The Kellia contain clusters of small houses made out of mud brick, spaced a few metres apart. In each there is an outer courtyard, surrounded by a low wall, and a small room for prayer and meditation at the back, entered by a vestibule. Off this vestibule there is another small room for sleeping and storage. The prayer room is in the north-west corner with a niche on the east wall (see Taylor 2003, 279– 282). In fact, on-going investigations have now determined that in the Kellia there is a kind of string of settlements on a roughly east-west axis, numbering some 1500 huts (often called “hermitages”), as Stephen J. Davis has noted in his synthesis of the archaeological investigations here (Davis 2013, 335–337 and note that a full bibliography of the archaeological investigations at these localities is given in this article). This string, along with that of Pherme, shows

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that there is some variation in the form of the houses, which would tie in with anchorites living in pairs or small groups rather than singly. One cannot say, then, that there was a definitive template followed, on the pattern of the houses of the Therapeutae, but there are intriguing similarities. On the basis of the foundation story of the Apophthegmata Patrum, monks who went to the Kellia lived in scattered cells but gathered together on Saturdays and Sundays to celebrate the liturgy and have a common meal (Rassart-Debergh 1991). The word μοναστήριον, found in the treatise, is also a link with later Christianity. A hapax legomenon not only within Philo’s works, but within the whole of extant Greek literature prior to the 4th century, it re-emerges in Egypt with a specifically Christian usage. A Christian μοναστήριον is described in the Historia Monachorum (c. 400 CE), regarding an incident that took place at the beginning of the 4th century (see Elm 1994, 318–319). A thief (Patermouthios) came to rob (ironically) the μοναστήριον of a Christian woman ascetic in the Thebaid region. While he climbed onto the roof, he could not enter the “inner chamber” (τὸ ταμιεῖον, cf. Matt 6:6; pl. Matt 24:26; Luke 12:3). It seems that the thief’s goal was this inner chamber. In Contempl. the whole structure is a simple “house,” οἰκία (24, 38), with the μοναστήριον (25, 30) being the sacred inner room for solitary activity (translated best as a “solitarium” because the unusualness of the word needs to be preserved in translation), which is also identified as being called a σεμνεῖον (25, 89). This σεμνεῖον is a word similarly difficult to translate but—being used also for the communal group space (32)—best translated as “sanctuary”. It is possible that both words may be related to the language of the mysteries (Deutsch 2006, 305–306). In other words, it may be that the Christians used the term μοναστήριον found in Contempl., but reconfigured it to fit the Christian architecture of the “hermitage.” Another question is whether there was a continuing ascetic tradition that ran from the time of Philo to the time of Antony, passing from Judaism to Christianity without any hiatus. Athanasius’s Life of Antony certainly does contain some sense that there was a Christian ascetic lifestyle already at the time of Antony, including something called a μοναστήριον, in that he writes that, prior to Antony, there were “not many monasteria in Egypt, and no monk at all paid attention to the distant desert, but anyone who wished to pay attention to the [ascetic] life practised the discipline in solitude near their own village” (Vita Ant. 3). Antony meets an old man who had practised the life of solitude “from his youth.” If there was an ascetic old man living solitarily in Antony’s youth, and we may place the encounter sometime in the later 260s, the old man had been living his lifestyle through the first part of the 3rd century.

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If there were not so many monasteria there were still some, and the distinctiveness of Antony’s choice is that he went far away rather than near his home. In fact, the Therapeutae also are not in the desert, but in pleasantly well-aired cultivated areas of land, “cultivations or smallholdings” (Contempl. 20, cf. 22–23). By contrast, Antony embraces this solitary life in the desert, and when finally he is revealed there, many others then are persuaded to take up the same life, and thus there were “many monasteria” in the mountains and desert, so that the desert—as it were “became a city” (Vita Ant. 14–15). Perhaps then Athanasius understood a μοναστήριον to indicate a place where one dwelt solitarily (cave or house), and not an inner room within an existing dwelling, or indeed a collection of these in a complex. Antony was novel in having one in an unprecedented place, first using a cave quite far west of Alexandria and then using an abandoned Roman fort not far from the Nile Interestingly, Eusebius did not recognize the huts described by Philo in Contempl. as hermitage dwellings for ascetics, and thought instead that Philo was talking about churches (Hist. eccles. 2.17.9), by which he means special rooms within houses in which people will only bring sacred books and hymns, but no food or drink. Here Eusebius seems to be drawing on a model of an ordinary home that has a room adapted for Christian worship, not a self-standing structure (see Taylor 2021). As time went by the Therapeutae could also be identified with the Essenes, likewise understood to be early Christians (see Riaud 1987, 1241–1264). A 16thcentury manuscript of Philo in Basel retitles the work “On the Essenes” (Machielsen 2016, 240). In the later 16th century, however, the Catholic historian Cesare Baronio divorced the Essenes from the Therapeutae, while still insisting that the Therapeutae were Christians (see Machielsen 2016). It is indeed unlikely that the Therapeutae were Essenes (see Taylor 2003, 68–72; 2012, 46–47, and see below, pp. 58–60).

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The Name of the “Therapeutae”

It is common in scholarship to refer to the people described in De vita contemplativa by the term “Therapeutae,” a Latin rendering of the Greek word θεραπευταί, the masculine plural being used frequently as inclusive of the women of the group. The translation of the words θεραπευταί (masc.) and θεραπευτρίδες (fem.) as well as the verb θεραπεύω and the noun θεραπεία can prove troublesome given the multiple meanings in Greek, and Philo’s word-plays also make full use of these in Contempl. 2. Unfortunately, no English word encompasses the double meaning of the Greek θεραπεύω. “Treat” is a word which has a slightly

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similar double-meaning in English (one can treat someone to special “treatment,” as a favour or a gift, or give them a “treat,” and one can treat someone with medication, also as “treatment”), but it does not match the Greek sense entirely. Philo uses the noun θεραπευταί in his writings in line with the broad contemporary usage defining this word as indicating those who minister or attend to a person or (cultically) to a god, for example the θεραπευταί are, in Aelius Aristides’s Sacred Tales (Orationes 47–52), those who cultically minister to the god Aesclepius through service in his temple (Orationes 39.5; 47.23; 48.47; 50.16, 104, cf. 19), a usage confirmed by inscriptional evidence (Inscr. Perg. 8/3.71; LSJ Suppl. 150, and for numerous other Hellenistic examples, see Taylor 2003, 56– 59; LSJ 792). Philo thus uses the verb θεραπεύω both literally and figuratively to mean “minister to,” “serve,” “care for,” “attend to,” or “look after” (Sacr. 44; 118; Det. 53–54; Plant. 72; Ebr. 76, 86, 131; Conf. 94–95; Congr. 134; Fug. 89; Somn. 1. 35, 77, 218; 2.90, 183, 232; Abr. 125, 128, 130; Ios. 64, 76–77, 242; Mos. 2.5, 22, 67; Decal. 71, 129; Spec. 1. 31, 42; 2.21, 167, 259; 3.27; 4.191; Virt. 185, 217; Praem. 56, 106; Prob. 35, 39, 43; Flacc. 9; Legat. 140). Linked with this, Philo also uses the verb to mean “treat (medically),” “minister to,” or “look after” sick persons (Leg. 2.87; 3.36, 118, 127–128; Cher. 105; Det. 43; Post. 141; Deus 66; Her. 299; Congr. 53; Fug. 27; Somn 1.110; Ios. 10, 23; Mos. 2.139; Spec. 2.239, 241; Praem. 19; Legat. 35; Hypoth. 11.13; Prov. 2.17; QG 4.168). He can employ the word also in the sense of “cultivate” (Cher. 105; Sacr. 39), and “court” or “flatter” (Flacc. 9, 108; Legat. 32, 260), and even, on the basis of a fundamental conceptualization that it involves caring for and attending to something or someone, to “flatter,” “court,” as when one when “serves” or “ministers” to someone in order to appeal to their sense of status and authority (Plant. 105; Flacc. 108; Legat. 32, 260; also Josephus, B.J. 3.8; 4.249; A.J. 5.189; 6.341). The cultic dimensions of the word, as indicating those who minister to God within a cultic environment, are quite crucial. As has been previously explored (Riaud 1993; Taylor 2003, 59–61), in Philo’s usage the word θεραπευτής particularly relates to the priests and Levites. This is not the usage of the LXX. In the LXX the verb θεραπεύω has a limited employment (see Wells 1998, 109, and her Appendix 6:1), but is most frequently used in its core sense of “serve,” “minister to,” “look after,” with the object being God or human beings (1 Esdras 1:4; Wis 10:9; Sirach 32 (35): 20; Esther 1:1–13, 2.19; 6:10; Judith 11:17; Tobit 1:7; Isa 54:17; Letter of Jeremiah 25–26, 38; Daniel 7:10). Accordingly, the word θεραπεία can relate to a group of attendants serving Pharaoh (Gen 45:16). It can be used also in an expanded sense, as meaning “repair” (1 Esdras 2:17), “honour,” “flatter” or “seek favour” (Prov 14:19; 19:6; 29:26) and in 2 Kingdoms 19:24 it is used of Memphibosthe not looking after his feet. The verb θεραπεύω is applied

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to pharmacological treatment in 4Kingdoms 9:15, 16–17, Wis 16:12, Sirach 38:1– 8 and Tobit 2:10. The Hebrew verb that would have been closest to θεραπεύω is sheret, but this is not found in the Hebrew scriptures as a noun, and it tends to be translated in the LXX by the verb λειτουργέω. At any rate, we do not have priests and Levites designated in the LXX as θεραπευταί. Philo is therefore using the Hellenistic Greek of his own time, not the LXX, in terms of his language here. Describing Aaron and his sons, Philo writes in Leg. 3.135 that “the minister (θεραπευτής) and server (λειτουργός) of holy things is subject to discipline and hardship.” The Levites are θεραπευταί of God, being Reason “who has found refuge with God and become his suppliant” (Sacr. 118– 119). The devout contemplation of God, the only wise being, is symbolized by Levi’s service (θεραπεία) (Sacr. 120), so the Levites symbolize ὁ θεοῦ θεραπευτὴς, “the minister of God” (Sacr. 127). In Ebr. 126, Philo notes that “it is the task of priests and θεραπευταί of God to offer abstemious sacrifices.” In addition, Phineas is “the priest and θεραπευτής of the only good [God]” (Post. 182). Potiphres, the father of Asenath, is a “priest and θεραπευτής of Mind” (Somn. 1.78). In Fug. 42, θεραπευτικὸν γένος, describing Jews as “a ministering type of people” (cf. Contempl. 11), we still have a cultic metaphor, since they provide a “dedicated offering” to God, “consecrated for the High Priesthood to him alone.” In Mos. 2.67 θεραπεία, “service,” is what priests do: they serve God. In Mos. 2.149, it is said that proper rites and sacrificial ceremonies are befitting “to the ministers (θεραπευταί) and servers of God into which they were to be initiated (by Moses).” The priests are “θεραπευταί of holy rites” (Mos. 2.274, cf. 67). In Spec. 2.192, one who serves God is both a priest and a prophet “the true priest is exactly a prophet: not by birth but rather by virtue, advancing to the service of the existing Being.” As High Priest and initiator of ritual functions, Moses is θεραπευτής and the server of God, who must lay hold of the truth (Sacr. 13). In Det. 160, Moses pitches his tent outside the camp (body) for only then can he be a perfect suppliant and θεραπευτής of God (and see Mos. 2.135). When Gaius Caligula puts on the regalia of Mars, Philo scoffs at the “θεραπευταί of this new and unknown Mars” (Legat. 97). He refers to “θεραπευταί of the intemperate and incontinent soul,” namely gluttonies (Ebr. 210). There are “the θεραπευταί of the sun and moon, and all the host of heaven,” who are in error (Decal. 66). Continuing the cultic metaphor, an angel is a “servant and θεραπευτής” of God in the heavenly realm (Conf. 174). In all these cases “attendants,” “servers,” “devotees,” or “ministers” would translate the word; it is used in relation to the cultic service of deities. The word θεραπευτής is never used by Philo to indicate a “therapeutic practitioner” or “healer” (see Schönfeld 1961). Philo himself does not make an association

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between the name θεραπευταί and the Essenes. Vermes has proposed that the Aramaic word lying behind the Greek words for “Essene,” Ἐσσαῖος or Ἐσσηνός is ’āsē, “physician,” or “healer” (Vermes 1960, 98, 105, 113–114; Vermes and Goodman 1989, 15–17), but the correct translation of this term into Greek would be ἰατρός. This may well be the correct Aramaic term for the Greek transliteration of Ἐσσαῖος, but Philo himself does not know it, and assumes the word Ἐσσαῖος derived from ὁσιότης (Prob. 75). Philo thus writes of τὸν … τῶν Ἐσσαίων ἤ ὁσίων ὅμιλον: “the throng of the Essaioi or ‘holy ones’” (Prob. 91). The Essenes, for Philo, are not associated with the name of the Therapeutae. Slightly confusingly, however, in line with his broad cultic usage, the Essenes are classified by Philo as being spiritually “ministers” of God (θεραπευταὶ θεοῦ) “not by sacrificing animals, but by being worthy to render their minds holy” (Prob. 75). Philo distinguishes between what priests do in the Temple service (offer animal sacrifices) and what Essenes do in terms of their lifestyle service (preparing their minds for God, cf. Her. 184), though importantly he does not indicate that the Essenes rejected sacrifices in the Temple but rather lived a dayto-day lifestyle of sacrificial holiness equivalent to the holy sacrificial actions of the Temple priesthood, with their minds sacrificed on a daily basis. The language reflects Philo’s imagery of using the processes of cult to point to alternate, more spiritual, methods of serving God. It is important to recognize that Philo did not at all mean to invalidate the Jerusalem Temple cult by this imagery, only to insist on the superiority of spiritual sacrifice (cf. Ebr. 87; Her. 123; see Winston 1985, 216–217; Taylor 2007, 9–15; Taylor 2012, 28–31). Philo quite often uses the word θεραπευτής to refer to someone who serves or ministers to God (Plant. 60), particularly by ascetic devotion, for example, in Ebr. 69 the “θεραπευταί of the only wise [God] must alienate themselves from everything in creation, and look upon all such things as enemies and thoroughly hostile.” It can imply a focus on mystical vision: the “holy and genuine θεραπευταί and friends of God are those who apprehend God by himself without reasoning,” and God reveals his existence to his suppliant (Praem. 43– 44). The perfect man longs to be suppliant and θεραπευτής of God (Congr. 105). At other times Philo’s usage is more general; for example, a θεραπευτής of God attends to justice and righteousness (Mut. 106). Proselytes have forsaken their own country and national customs to become “suppliants and θεραπευταί of the living Being” (Spec. 1.309). God takes the suppliant to be his own, and goes forth to meet the person who hastens to do him service (θεραπεία): “the true θεραπευτής and suppliant” of God is a man defended by piety towards God (Virt. 185–186). Thus, we need to think of θεραπευτής as simply meaning “minister,” a word that can be deployed in various ways, metaphorically and actually, in Philo’s work.

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There is no difference between the masculine and the feminine forms of this word in meaning, including in a cultic sense, but the feminine can also carry a sense of a wife or daughter caring for her husband or father. The feminine form θεραπευτρίς appears in Post. 184: “for the consecrated intelligence, being server and minister (θεραπευτρίς) [of God]” who “must do everything in which the Master delights.” In Somn. 1.232 θεραπευτρίς is used to refer to incorporeal souls who are “ministers” of God, and to them he reveals himself as to friends. As the “Levites” are suppliants, “proselytes” are people who have left their homes and taken refuge with God, and thus they are “orphans and widows” (fem.): people who are orphaned and widowed to creation, whose “ministering” soul has adopted God as lawful husband or father (Somn. 2.273): all these designations in Somn. appear to refer to people who have adopted a lifestyle of dedicated service to God, away from their families and material things, and would therefore correspond with the practice of those he describes specifically in Contempl. The repeated association of θεραπευτής with “suppliant” (ἱκέτης) is particularly striking given the longer title of the treatise (see Introduction, pp. 32–33). In some ways the term ἱκέτης means the same thing as θεραπευτής in practice: Philo refers to those who focus on God completely, asking God for sustenance and help. These terms are not necessarily applicable to every Jew (pace Nikiprowetzky 1963; 1979), but certainly every ideal Jew. Fundamental to the identity of these is their resolute worship of the one true God. Yet it is their separation from the world and worldly things that makes these people distinctive, even as Jews. Given Philo’s usage of θεραπευτής and θεραπευτρίς elsewhere in his work, as well as in the wider context of the Hellenistic world, the assumption must be that the contemplative philosophers Philo describes are called “ministers” mainly because they were living a special lifestyle that Philo saw as being devoted service to God. That they “are called” such is, however, indicative of other people than Philo using this designation. We must therefore consider in particular other Jewish usage. In Josephus there is repeated use of θεραπεύω in relation to serving with flattery or paying court (Wells 1998, 116, and her Appendix 6:2, e.g., B.J. 1.222, 242, 289, 302, 460, 463, 464; 2.4, 297, 350; 3.8; 4.249, 365; A.J. 5.189; 6.341), though the primary meaning of “serve,” “attend to,” is also found (e.g., B.J. 1.187, 462; 7.424, etc.), including the action of the High Priest serving God in the Temple (A.J. 11.62; C. Ap. 1.30). Wells notes that Josephus employs the verb to mean “treat (medically)” nine times, but in five of these instances the patients die (e.g., B.J. 1.272, 580; A.J. 9.121; 11.62; Life 421, cf. B.J. 1.658). In regard to its use in medical terminology overall, Wells notes how consistently the verb θεραπεύω is used to

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mean “treat medically,” but there is no implication of a necessary “cure” (σωτήριον); the result of effective treatment is indeed a restoration of health. The word should not be confused with ἰάομαι, “heal,” or σώζω, “cure,” implying a positive result, and in fact some treatments were seen to have made matters worse (Wells 1998, 73, 109, 116; e.g., Tobit 2:10). Daumas notes Pliny’s record of a tomb inscription: Turba se medicorum perisse, “Hoards of doctors killed him” (Pliny, Nat. 26.5; Daumas and Miquel 1963, 79). The usage in the New Testament appears to tie “healing” and “treating” firmly together into one, as if treating someone always implies healing, and Wells argues that it also involves spiritual healing (Wells 1998, 120–154), but it seems unwise to read the language of Philo and other Hellenistic Jewish writings too strongly in line with New Testament usage. Overall, the Hellenistic usage confirms that it is not accurate to translate the verb θεραπεύω as “heal” or “cure,” despite New Testament usage, though in its passive participle this can be implied. It is better to translate it in terms of its medical use as “treat,” as in “treat a patient” or “treat an illness.” The treatment applied by the θεραπευταί is for the soul, in Contempl. 2, not the body. In Prov. 2.17–20 Philo uses exactly the same image of philosophers who heal the soul. They treat or minister to souls that have been damaged by the diseases of the passions. At the same time they minister to God. Nowhere else in Philo’s work or anywhere else, however, do we get the idea that there was a cohesive group “called” by this particular name. Philo does use this term to describe souls as θεραπευτρίδες when the people to whom they belong are engaged in a particular anti-material lifestyle, as in Somn. 2.273, where they are also called “suppliants,” but it seems unlikely to be a group name in a technical sense, as designating a “sect,” or “school.” Comparatively, Conybeare points out that Justin Martyr refers to a category of θεωρητικοί, “contemplatives” (Dial. 218C), which is actually an overarching designation for various philosophical groups, including Pythagoreans and Platonists. Porphyry (Abst. 1.53) uses the term θεωρία, “contemplation” in relation to philosophers who give up luxury and pleasures yet preserve health. Philo is himself creating a kind of entity that looks as if it might form an equivalent to the school of the Essenes in Judaea he has just described, when in fact the phenomenon he defines here is rather different. Nevertheless, as Contempl. continues, it does become obvious that this group of people described by Philo might see themselves as engaged in a form of Temple service, in which men and women take the roles of priests engaged in ministrations to God in a transformed sanctuary (see Taylor 2003, 302–310; 2004; Deutsch 2006). It is therefore possible that the group itself defined its goal as being θεραπεία, and that they called themselves θεραπευταί and θεραπευτρίδες, with the sense that they were the true spiritual ministers of God. But, as

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priests and Levites were by no means separated from the rest of Israel in any exclusive sense, but involved in ritual activities at the heart of Israel’s religious life, we should not see this group as being separated from the rest of Alexandrian Judaism. In Contempl. 2, the θεραπευταί and θεραπευτρίδες are so designated, states Philo, because they “minister to”—or rather “treat”—either the soul that is ill, as doctors in cities treat bodies that are sick, but also because they “minister to” God, or rather Being. In Conf. 95 those who do serve God are referred to as τῶν τὸ ὄν θεραπευόντων, “those ministering to Being,” and likewise in Fug. 27 those who treat people therapeutically (in this case not very well) are referred to by the same verb, as a present participle rather than a noun (as also in Josephus’s usage in B.J. 1.658). Thus, we can translate θεραπευταί as “ministers.” The recognition of this designation being non-sectarian comes through in the Syriac excerpts of Philo’s text found in Eusebius’s Historia ecclesiastica (see Wright and Mclean 1898, 86), compiled from two 5th-century Syriac manuscripts. As noted above, here the words used for masculine and feminine terms θεραπευταί and θεραπευτρίδες are meniḥane’ and meniḥanitha’ respectively, meaning “ministers,” “servers,” “attendants” and also “worshippers” (Payne Smith 1903, 281–282). This appropriately captures the sense of the Greek word, but note that it misses a sense of “treat medically,” as in a healing therapy. In this commentary, however, despite the translation of “ministers” in the text, the usual term “Therapeutae” will be used (rather than “attendants”/“the Mareotic group” as in Taylor 2003), simply for clarity, with the recognition that this term is, overall, cultic figurative language designed to indicate a particular lifestyle of special devotion to God, arising out of a particular exegetical and philosophical Jewish ideology focusing on mystical vision.

8

Identity: Ascetic Jewish Allegorists in Alexandria

The Therapeutae have seemed a mysterious group in the history of Second Temple Judaism, found explicitly defined only in Contempl. and it is often thought they are unattested elsewhere. However, they appear far less mysterious or unattested when one reconfigures them not as a definable sect but as people among those of Philo’s own allegorical school in Alexandria who have adopted an ascetic and philosophical lifestyle. While they have often been identified with the Essenes, and in fact in some ways the common picture of the Essenes has even been coloured by the Therapeutae, they should really be understood in line with people Philo refers to quite often in his writings, not always entirely positively.

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i The Essenes For much of the 19th century the Therapeutae were considered to be linked to the Essenes (see above and for the scholarship on this Wagner 1960, 194–202; Riaud 1987). The Essenes themselves were little understood, and were considered as being a marginal esoteric sect—quasi-Pythagorean or even Buddhist in character—that stood quite apart from the Pharisaic-rabbinic mainstream (see Taylor 2012, 1–21). Because of the association between the Essene interest in bodily healing (Josephus, B.J. 2.136; Hippolytus, Haer. 9.22), and the doublemeanings and metaphorical use of θεραπευταί (both “ministers” of God and “healers” of the soul) this gave cause for scholars to speculate on an association between the people in question (see Riaud 1987, 1241–1264; Vermes 1962; Vermes and Goodman 1989, 15–17, 75–99; Betz 1982; Bergmeier 1993; Bilde 1998, 40–46, 65–66; Boccaccini 1998, 27). More commonly now the Therapeutae are categorized as a group distinctly different from the Essenes, properly belonging to the milieu of Alexandrian Judaism, and it is noted that certain characteristics of the Therapeutae as stated by Philo mean that they simply cannot be Essenes (as discussed already in Taylor 2003, 68–72; 2012, 46–47). Moreover, the character of the Essenes is not as marginal or esoteric as previous assumed (see Taylor 2012, 195–200). The key points of difference between the Essenes, and the Therapeutae may be listed briefly as follows: 1. The Essenes were described by Philo in a previous lost treatise on the active or practical/public life (ὁ βίος πρακτικός) and he is choosing another example of virtuous Jews to illustrate the contemplative life (Contempl. 1). The word τῶν goes with ἀσπασαμένων, “the people who have welcomed,” as a different group, not with the initial word Ἐσσαίων which appears as a way of closing the subject of the previous treatise. Philo does not mention anything about the Essenes in the rest of Contempl. or indicate any association (see Conybeare 1895, 192, 278–279). 2. The Essenes are only found as a legal school within Judaea (Syria Palaestina). They were also found in villages and towns more widely dispersed in this region (Philo, Hypoth. 11.1; but cf. Prob. 75–76; Josephus, B.J. 2.124), including in the Judaean sector of the Dead Sea coast, probably to the north of En Gedi (Pliny, Nat. 5.15; Synesius, Dio 3.2; Solinus, Collectanea 35.9–12). They are not identified as living outside Judaea. In Josephus they are defined as active in Jerusalem in the Temple, and politically involved (Josephus, A.J. 13.171–213, 311–313; 15.371–379; 18:19; B.J. 1.78–80; 2.562–567), and in Jerusalem there was a “Gate of the Essenes” (Josephus, B.J. 5.145). Philo’s use of the Essenes for the active, practical life would cohere with the notion that they were involved in society and politics. The Therapeutae, as the “best” of those engaged in a particular contemplative Jewish

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lifestyle, are located living beside Lake Mareotis (Contempl. 22), and elsewhere in Alexandria (see below) withdrawn from society. 3. The Essenes are defined as a (largely mature) male group, living communally, who do not bring wives into these communal living arrangements (Philo, Hypoth. 11.14–17; Josephus, B.J. 2.120–121; Pliny, Nat. 5.15). Some may have had wives who were not included in the community when possessions were shared (Philo, Hypoth. 11.14–17; Josephus, A.J. 18.21; B.J. 2.120– 121). Those Essene men with wives did not live differently to those that were entirely celibate, but only married in order to ensure they had physical offspring (Josephus, B.J. 2.160–161). The Essene women were therefore not celibate and were expected to be mothers. However, the Therapeutae community is constituted by men and women living a celibate lifestyle together in one community, and the women are not the wives of the men there, but rather, according to Philo, “mostly old virgins” (Contempl. 2, 32–33, 68–69, 83–88), which probably means there were some younger celibate women also. 4. The Essenes wear white all the time (Josephus, B.J. 2.123, 137; see Taylor 2003, 299–301; 2012, 87–88). The Therapeutae only wear white clothing on the festive occasion of a Sabbath meal (Contempl. 66, cf. 38). 5. The Essenes live a life of engagement with physical labour, agriculture and crafts, by which they earn money (Philo, Prob. 76; Hypoth. 11.6–9; Josephus, B.J. 2.129; A.J. 18.18–19). The Therapeutae’s life (for the senior members, at least) involved no physical labour, earning money or profit (Contempl. 17, 66). Their only “work” is defined as the philosophical tasks of allegorical exegesis and composing music (Contempl. 28–30; 89). 6. The Essenes place their property into communal ownership (Philo, Prob. 76–78; Hypoth. 11.4; Josephus, B.J. 2.120, 122), with a common fund for the proceeds of their labour (Philo, Prob. 86) with a treasurer in charge (Philo, Hypoth. 11.10). The Therapeutae give over all their money and property to friends and family (Contempl. 13–16). 7. The Essenes eat twice a day, assembling to purify their bodies at the 5th hour (11 a.m.), before their first meal, and also at the end of the day, before dinner (Josephus, B.J. 2.129–133, Hippolytus, Ref. 9.21). These meals were considered to be “sacred and pure” (Porphyry, Abst. 4.12.3). The Therapeutae only eat after nightfall (Contempl. 34–37) and only their Sabbath meals are said to be communal. There are also aspects of what is said positively about the Essenes, by Philo and others, which simply do not appear in the discussion of the Therapeutae, but critics may assume that this is simply because it is not important to Philo to state matters in each case. Nevertheless, these key strikingly different features

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of the Essenes and the Therapeutae indicate that it is very unlikely indeed that they should be considered to be part of the same group. ii Jewish Allegorists: The Other “Therapeutae” The notion that Philo somehow made up the Therapeutae often hinges on the assertion that they are otherwise unattested, with the idea that they are a littleknown “sect” (see Kraemer 2010, 116). It also assumes that Philo is entirely comfortable with what he describes. The group described in Contempl. are exemplary, according to Philo, and much of what he writes about them accords with his own views, but he also has difficulty in presenting all aspects of their lifestyle, especially the fact that there are both men and women among them. The women of the group are a bit of a rhetorical problem for Philo, in that he needs to avoid common tropes of “women philosophers” in presenting them as living, learning, eating, singing and dancing together with men (see Taylor 2003, 173–226). Especially in his earlier writings, he does not by any means consider women, or the concept of “femalenesss,” positively (e.g. Leg. 2.385; Virt. 18–21; Agr. 73; Fug. 51; see Baer 1970; Sly 1990; Mattila 1996a; Taylor 2003, 229–236). Even within the treatise itself femininity is presented negatively in the presentation of the effeminate slave-boys of bad symposia (see Goldberg 2008). It is likely, however, that under the influence of Rome’s more emancipated attitude to women Philo himself began to see women in a more positive light, evidenced in how he presents the biblical matriarchs in his later writings (Niehoff 2018, 131–148), and the involvement of prominent women in Rome in philosophical discourse and the Egyptian cult may have encouraged him to present the women here. However, he could still present wives very negatively as jealous and manipulating (Hypoth. 11.14–17). We do get a sense of the Therapeutae being both representative of the excellence of all Jews but distinctive, as is made clear in Contempl. 13–20: they have abandoned property and family life to live apart from cities and spiritually dissimilar persons. Their doing so stems from their having received spiritual sight (Contempl. 13—evidently an allusion to their seeing or contemplating God, as in Contempl. 11–12). This demonstrates their indifference to material possessions and mastery of human passions, and they undertake a lifestyle that is very austere. Their use of allegorical interpretation links them with the kind of exegetical school of Philo himself, and he greatly approves of their methods and conclusions, so that it would be appropriate to see them as part of Philo’s own wider milieu (see Taylor 2003, 126–136). That they are educated—able to read and write and discourse, even to compose music—would link them with the wealthy sector of society to which Philo also belonged (Taylor and Davies 1998; Taylor 2003, 93–104).

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As for an underlying paradigm of the Therapeutae being some unattested “sect,” we should not in fact seek to find these people as a particular “sect” referred to anywhere else in Philo’s corpus. We are more justified in seeing them as Jewish allegorists (see Hay 1979–1980) like Philo who are occupying a rural villa outside Alexandria that has been modified for a philosophical purpose. In Contempl. we learn of cultivations and villages around them (Contempl. 20), individual huts within some kind of protected compound (24), a space, called a semneion, “sanctuary,” for teaching on the Sabbath (30–33), and a sumposion or dining room (66–89), all of which would be appropriate to a rural villa adapted for the purpose. We find such allegorists much referred to elsewhere in Philo’s writings in terms of their practice, both in regard to what they do outside the city and what similar people do within the city itself, when elite and philosophically educated people begin to follow the basic premises of the Jewish allegorical school, aiming to simplify their lives, giving away their belongings (cf. Contempl. 13–17). The ascetic life is one in which one trains in learning and self-mastery (Her. 252–253; Leg. 3.18–19), and is a way of life open to anyone in Philo’s community. In Spec. 2.20, for example, Philo mentions that there are wealthy people who take to using poor material, and drink out of earthen cups. In this report, Philo counts himself as someone who also uses simple artefacts. While their food is defined as being spit-baked bread, with olives, cheeses and green vegetables, when in Contempl. the food is simply plain bread with some salt and hyssop, their clothing is described as being almost exactly that of the Therapeutae of Contempl.: “in the summer a belt and a thin othone (linen wrap) and in winter a thick, tear-proof chlaina (mantle)” (cf. Contempl. 38). They sleep on the floor, spurning the very inlaid furniture that Philo in Contempl. associates with the bad symposia of his Hellene opposition (see Contempl. 49). In Spec. Philo states that such people are not only like this by their nature, but because of the “right education from first youth,” as in Contempl. 67. In Contempl. Philo assumes a background in which children and young people are properly educated within the city, in the right educational context, before they make a decision to leave the city and join the group outside it, having acquired property, married, and had sons and daughters (Contempl. 13). In the earlier works of the Allegorical Commentary, pre-Rome, Philo presents this lifestyle of ascetic allegorists as highly admirable. In Somn. 1.124– 126 Philo discusses a pupil (γνώριμος) of the holy Logos as one of the people who have laid down self-control as a foundation, and put up with hunger and thirst, heat and cold, not ashamed of a basic chlaina, and who sleep on a soft bit of ground. Their pillows are stones or low-rising mounds above the level (cf. Contempl. 69). “This life the soft-living people call ‘very hard’, but those living

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for goodness name it ‘pleasant’, for it suits those who are not just said to be “men” but really are” (Somn. 1.125). Here Philo takes the word “man” (ἀνήρ), and its corollary “manliness” (ἀνδρεία) as a defining feature of a pupil of the holy Logos, of Moses himself, and this correlates well with how in Contempl. there is a strong emphasis on the andreia, “manliness,” exemplified by the Therapeutae (§60): they are men (§§1, 29, 78), even when they are—rather awkwardly for Philo—women. Philo’s Moses is an example (παράδειγμα) of a soul in training, hardening up and “at war with anything weak and androgynous” (Somn. 1.126). Elsewhere in Philo’s writings the pupils (γνώριμοι) of Moses, as they are called in Contempl. 63–64, are also those who interpret scripture allegorically (QG 3.8; Her. 81; Virt. 65), a category in which Philo includes himself (Det. 86; Spec. 1.345, see Taylor 2003, 131–134). The other ascetic allegorists of Alexandria can also be seen from Gig. 3, where Philo describes “unfleshly and unbodily souls” (ψυχαὶ … ἄσαρκοι καὶ ἀσώματοι) who spend their days “in the theatre of the All, seeing and hearing divine things.” Migr. 191 mentions those who close their eyes, stop their ears, restrain the impulses created by senses and spend their days in solitude and darkness, so that the objects of sense perception will not interfere with “the eye of the soul, which God has given to see noetic (mind-oriented) things.” The Therapeutae thus spend their days in the inner rooms of huts (Contempl. 25) relieved from “the crowd of the senses and objects of sense” (Contempl. 27). Such people are defined as “wise and good” in Mut. 32: they are a sacred company (θίασος) who have stripped themselves of external possessions and rejected what is liked by the flesh. However, Philo defines “those from education” (οἱ ἀπο παιδείας)—the education by God—as “athletes” (ἀθληταί): their regimen leaves them pale, faded and skeletal (ὠχροὶ … καὶ διερρυηκότες καὶ κατεσκελετευμένοι). Here Philo seems to present, in a slightly less favourable way, the implications that we may rightly draw of the lifestyle of the Therapeutae, largely spent in solitary huts, eating only a very frugal diet (Contempl. 34–37, 73). In Mut. 34 Philo indicates that those who are wise and good—like this— are few in number. They are people who have “gone to the wild” (ἐξηγριώθησαν), inspired by divine madness, but Philo here advocates instead a tamer type of practising piety and wisdom within the city, not overlooking human beings, which is to follow Mosaic law regarding family, social and civic responsibilities (Mut. 39–40). This is a quite telling conclusion in terms of Philo’s own choices. The ideal of the release from the body is found also in Her. 68–78 (cf. 84– 85). The soul needs to leave “land”—the body—and “relations”—that is the senses—to be “like those possessed, even Corybants, Bacchic and theophoric people, according to a certain prophetic inspiration.” This language of divine possession is how he describes what happens to the Therapeutae in their all-

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night sacred event (Contempl. 85). The soul emigrates from the body (Her. 71) and “sentences” speech to prolonged speechlessness. “The one who goes out from us and longs to be an attendant of God (ὀπαδός … θεοῦ) is an heir of the glorious wealth of Nature” (Her. 76), and is the one who sees (Her. 78). The life of seeing (θεωρία), is, indeed, the contemplative life (ὁ βίος θεωρετικός). Post Rome, in the Exposition of the Law, Philo can both admire and reject the ascetic choices of those who live the inspired life, as found in his work on the Decalogue (see Niehoff 2018, 149–154). In Decal. 108–120. Philo writes of people who “having said goodbye to all other matters have put their whole personal life to the ministry of God,” but there are others who focus on justice for humanity, and fellowship, the former being lovers of God, the latter lovers of other people. The former do not share the joy and grief of other people regarding the common good, by not engaging in society, and therefore they are like wild animals in nature, especially if they disregard their parents (110). They do not show proper respect for those who brought them into the world, from nonexistent to existent (111). In fact, in the crunch at this point Philo states that piety and holiness do not dwell within souls who neglect parents (119, cf. 110), by implication contravening the law of Deut 5:16 and Exod 20:12. While in Contempl. 18 Philo defines the Therapeutae as leaving parents, and simply passes over this detail, his comments in Decal. show that the people he can compliment in one treatise can be criticized in another, since treatises can belong to different rhetorical fields, or to slightly different audiences in this period when he was essentially revising his previous positions in line with a more Stoic turn (see Niehoff 2018). Furthermore, it also shows that Philo did wish to present a truthful account in Contempl., since he did not fail to mention the leaving of parents—and society—even though he himself did not in fact think this entirely right. Philo himself at some point before he became ambassador to Rome opted for a life in society (Somn. 1.151; Her. 45–46), focusing on the common good, not neglecting his family, and doing his duty. Clearly, he saw those who chose an existence away from the city as providing an admirable and alluring lifestyle in many respects, but it was one which was impossible for himself. Ultimately it was not even entirely right, in being neglectful of others, particularly parents. The contemplative life could be both extolled and refuted by Philo. This in itself means that it is highly unlikely that Philo simply dreamt up an ideal fantasy: the evidence of his writings indicates that he directly encountered those who undertook a contemplative, philosophical existence of ascetic self-denial and that he found them highly admirable, yet also at times vexing. In Fug. 28–32, for example, Philo justifies keeping money; the challenge is to use it well (Fug. 28–29). Fame could be accepted (30) and used well, as could

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a luxurious dinner (31–32), but one should be modest and moderate. Here too the model of someone who spurns such things is found. In Fug. 33, he states that there are those who give up their businesses and financial dealings and say they have some contempt for fame and pleasure, but he is not impressed by those who look dirty and sullen (cf. Mut. 32–34). They might say they love order, temperance and endurance (33–34), but Philo questions a life that rejects community with other people. Philo seems even quite defensive about his own choices, in the face of the lifestyle of ascetic contemplatives: while they ridicule the business of politeia, they “do not recognize how useful the matter is” (Fug. 35). Ultimately, Philo asserts then that “it is better first to have fought out the active/practical life as a pre-contest to the more perfect contest of the contemplative life,” avoiding the charge that anyone has shrunk away from social and business life out of laziness (Fug. 36). In other words, using the Levites as a model, they were not supposed to retire until they were 50 (Num 4:3–5) and only after their practical duty was done could they undertake contemplation, delighting in knowledge and principles alone (Fug. 37). Virtue should be understood in regard to human interaction before one went away to concentrate on a relationship with God (Fug. 38). It is not a good idea to try this lifestyle when young. The life of “ministry to the only God” (ἡ θεοῦ μόνου θεραπεία) (Fug. 40) is tough, and, “we arrive at the court of ministry (θεραπείας) and turn away from this austere way of living more quickly than we came, for we are not able to bear the sleepless observance, and the unceasing and relentless toil” (Fug. 41). This statement uses the model of the Levites in the Temple to reflect on the philosophically contemplative life, and seems to speak of personal experience, as if Philo himself had tried the lifestyle of the Therapeutae directly. This also serves to sharpen our awareness of how much Philo was crafting his chosen example of the contemplative life for the sake of impressing an audience familiar with certain key features that would obtain in this life, and putting his own personal qualms on one side. It seems that Philo endorsed the lifestyle for those who were mature, but not for those who were young, and his comment that the women of the group were “mostly old virgins” (Contempl. 68) tends to give an impression of the whole group as mature or elderly, which is clearly how Philo would wish it, though he could not insist on this as the reality for all. In such a way he both presents truth and engages in literary airbrushing, to push his readers/hearers into a certain imaginative response. His critiques of those who undertake such a lifestyle ahead of being 50 (reflecting the pattern for Levites) makes it quite likely that there were indeed more younger people who took up this philosophical and ascetic existence in this group than Philo would have liked and he did not wish to dwell on them. Philo states that the serving juniors of the group might not all have been that young in years, taking

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into consideration the subtle ways Philo wishes to aid our imagination (Contempl. 67, 72), but, if we reject Philo’s airbrushing and sharpen our view, we can see that a number of the juniors were indeed young. A young Philo could have been among them, only to fail. This would account for his deep knowledge of the community he describes in Contempl. We see the personal tension in Philo in Spec. 3.1–6, one of the few glimpses we have of Philo’s own experience of life, where he admits that he once had time for philosophy, for “contemplation of the universe,” companioned by divine words and doctrines. He himself did not care about fame, wealth or bodily comforts, and travelled, inspired, to the heights with the sun and moon, having escaped from “the diseases of mortal life” (1–2), but he was set upon by “envy” (from others), and pulled down into a great sea of troubles in public administration (ἐν πολιτείᾳ), in which he could barely keep his head above water (3). He can sometimes take a moment and return to the air, but he is stuck in a stormy sea, with matters of civil life and strife that crash down on him on every side (5–6). Here it seems he himself has moved some way towards the contemplative life and been completely stymied by duties to politeia. No wonder, in his frustration, he finds fault at times with those who have just walked away from it all. It seems, however, that despite any criticisms he may have had of the contemplative, ascetic lifestyle, he went along this path for a time and felt called back. He yearned for it again. It was while he was so frustrated, in the “great sea of troubles” representing the Jewish community to successive emperors in Rome, that he wrote about the Therapeutae—as ministers of the divine and healers of souls—with such relentless praise (see Goodenough 1963, 59–60; Taylor 2003, 21–46). In short, the main point here is that it is quite wrong to suppose that the Therapeutae, as “ministers” of the Divine, are unattested elsewhere in Philo’s work. They are the high achieving and ascetic allegorizing philosophers that Philo knows well in Alexandria and wished at one time to emulate. The specific group he describes has withdrawn to a particular spot outside Alexandria, but that does not make them into a “sect”, or indeed a fantasy. iii “Extreme Allegorists” Given how Philo can be both critical and praising in different rhetorical fields, it has previously been suggested (Taylor 2003, 136–153) that the Therapeutae might be identified with the so-called “extreme allegorists” discussed in Migr. 86–93. These are people who value the symbolic dimensions of Mosaic law and devalue the literal, but Philo reads Gen 1:2, “I will make your name great,” as indicating that one should not only be morally good and noble, but also be

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reputed as such, and they fail on reputation. They have been criticized because they interfere with established customs (Migr. 88). These were people within Philo’s circle of allegorists who considered the words of the law as symbols of matters of the mind and therefore neglected the observance of the literal law (Migr. 89), as they concentrate on truth in its naked absoluteness (Migr. 90). As noted above, Philo can criticize those who adopt the contemplative life away from the community as neglecting parents, and therefore infringing the Mosaic law that requires parents to be honoured. But in the case of the “extreme allegorists” there are even greater issues at stake. Philo states that they honour the Seventh Day as a teaching about a power which is concerned with “the unoriginated one, and inaction with creation” (Migr. 91), a notion Philo himself explores. In Her. 170 we find that the “ever-virgin and motherless” number Seven is designed so that creation might observe inaction and “remember the one who does everything invisibly.” Likewise, in Cher. 87–89, God is always active in working in the universe all that is best and beautiful, but God’s rest is working this with ease. Philo states that just because they hold the correct symbolism to be so important, we should not “loosen the laws.” He then gives a list of “don’ts”: not to light a fire; till the earth; carry loads; bring a charge; pass judgement; demand deposits; recover loans or do other things that could be done on other days. There is the sense that there might be some Sabbath infringement in view. Here “the feast” the Sabbath, is a symbol of “happiness of soul and thankfulness to God” (Migr. 92), but Philo states that just because of this “we should not exclude the assemblies of the year’s seasons,” meaning normal Jewish festivals. While circumcision has a symbolic value, “we should not abolish what is laid down in the law about circumcision” (Migr. 92). “We” is constantly repeated here, as Hay (1997, 128, 130) notes, so Philo has in mind that the group he is countering are part of his community, but as “we” look after the body, as well as the soul, so the literal laws should be maintained as well as the inner meanings. Indeed, keeping the laws avoids “the accusations and censures of the many” (Migr. 93), meaning that Jews in Alexandria did take seriously infringements of the Sabbath and the neglect of the Mosaic laws. We can clearly see the seriousness of this in the accusations Paul elicited in Acts 21–26, and Paul’s own wellknown statements about the law, including festivals and circumcision (Rom 2:17–29; 8:1–8; Gal. 2; Col 2:6–23, inter alia) would cohere with what is defined here as being in error. As Alan Segal (1992, 246) has said, “Philo, had he known Paul, would have considered him one of the radical allegorists.” Indeed, by the time we reach the Epistle of Barnabas, generally understood to have an Alexandrian context (cf. Ps. Clement, Hom. 1.9.1–2; 2.4.2–3; Paget 1994, 36–42), the detachment from Jewish law among Christians is clearly attested.

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For Philo, virtuous people should aim to look good as well as be good (Migr. 12). One can be completely virtuous but attract the criticisms of “the many” who are less virtuous (Migr. 86, 90, 93, 107) by doing things they feel to be wrong (see Hay 1997). Philo uses the figure of Leah, who states: “Happy am I, for the women will call me happy” (Gen 30:13) to assert that “female praise” is based on appearance only. It might not be very deep, but it is still important (Migr. 95), because how you are perceived does matter (Migr. 96). It might be better to be praiseworthy rather than praised (Migr. 108), but living as ἀσώματοι ψυχαί, “bodiless souls” (Migr. 90), is not quite right. In terms of their identity, he does not say there are many “extreme allegorists”; they are “certain people” (τινες), and he does not specifically identify them with those who have sought a contemplative life. While the contemplatives are those who choose an austere, simple life, neglecting business and family, actually living away from community, the “extreme allegorists” explore absolute reality “as though they are alone living by themselves in the wilderness,” when they are actually not (Migr. 89). The problem is that people around them are upset with them, and bring accusations against them, and thus they lose their good reputation. It was noted (Taylor 2003, 140–142) that there is omission of any statement concerning ritual purity in terms of the preparation for the festival of the 49th day in Contempl. 66, but in fact this is not possible to use in regard to a definitive feature, as it may simply be an omission on Philo’s part. In Migr. it seems that the people criticized do not come to the “assemblies” of the festivals; perhaps the Therapeutae could be said not so much reject them but consider them unimportant in terms of their own participation in community events in the city, but they have an excuse in living away from the city, whereas the “extreme allegorists” act as if they do live away, when they do not. It may be that, given that the audience for Philo’s work was quite different for that of Migr, he could criticize them in one place and praise their lifestyle in another, as he does with the contemplatives. Migr. and Contempl. comprise two different rhetorical fields. If Philo were using the “extreme allegorists” as figures exemplifying virtue, for his rhetorical purposes in Contempl., then he would have chosen to emphasize the points on which he agrees with them and downplay anything with which he disagrees. For this reason he would concentrate on the specific matters he can agree with, avoiding mention of other aspects. In terms of what the “extreme allegorists” actually did do on the Sabbath (Migr. 91), the implication is that, because they argued that the symbolic meaning of the Sabbath was more important than the literal, they might be lax with the Law. This catalogue of things one should not do on a Sabbath includes country activities (tilling the ground) and city activities (conduct proceedings

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in court etc.); an indication that the extreme allegorists of Migr. are to be found in both places. According to Josephus, the Ionians did not exempt Jews from going to court on this day, much to their displeasure (A.J. 16.45–46), and Philo seems to suggest that some Alexandrian Jews might have done this, for practical necessity, while arguing for the symbolic meaning of the Sabbath. In Contempl. the group has rejected all aspects of the city and commerce, but the “extreme allegorists” would be active rather than contemplative. The Therapeutae of Contempl. seem to be defined as having an even greater regard for the Sabbath than anyone else. On this day they rest from the “work” of exegesis, contemplation, musical composition and come together as a group to hear an instruction, in the same way as other Jews on the Sabbath. Philo emphasizes in Contempl. how much the group honours the Sabbath (the number Seven), and the Sabbath of Sabbaths (7×7), but still the description of the festive Sabbath meals raises some questions. Given that the Sabbath ends at dawn, for this group, the bread eaten in the meal is likely to have been baked during the morning, though we cannot know that for sure. The food is described as being carried into the dining room on a single table (Contempl. 81), and so those who serve do carry a load from one room to another, but the total space of the kitchen and dining room would probably have been configured as being “inside” one domain (cf. Jer 17:24–26 the issue is of bringing a load into Jerusalem). It seems we cannot equate the Therapeutae exactly with the “extreme allegorists,” but the latter are likely to come from the same allegorizing circle as both Philo and the contemplatives. Philo can criticize the contemplatives for their detachment and austerity, but he does not in these criticisms level accusations of neglect of the Sabbath, festivals or circumcision; the concern is the issue of not honouring parents. There might well be those among the Therapeutae who would adopt the views of the “extreme allegorists” but we cannot make a simple equation. However, a question may remain open about their linkage with any early Jewish-Christians in Alexandria. Conclusions In terms of identity, therefore, it seems quite clear from Philo’s writings that there were people in his own social class, educated in the allegorical method, who opted to undertake a lifestyle of austerity for the sake of a philosophical ideal. They could do this by living a very simple life within the city, or else they could completely leave the city and adopt an alternative lifestyle in a place outside. We have therefore in Contempl. a presentation of those who have adopted this alternative non-city lifestyle of withdrawal and detachment, which in some ways may remind us of the life of wandering Cynics or the sanyasin of

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India, but the fact that the Therapeutae gather together in a kind of community focused on contemplation may indeed remind us more of a Buddhist monastery. It would be wrong to classify them as a “sect” as such, since this would generally imply more alienation from those they have left behind than is the case. Philo’s comments about contemplatives outside Contempl. do verify the existence of such people. However, such comments also alert us to the rhetorical aims of Contempl. in which Philo will pass over anything he does not consider helpful for his case. In terms of the women of the group he has a rhetorical problem, given he would wish to emphasize the lifestyle of the true disciples of Moses is also very manly. Indeed, among the Therapeutae, this is a place where men are men and even women are (almost) men. The women of this group are particularly interesting since, given the foregoing remarks, we should see them as being part of a reasonably elite social milieu in Alexandria that has supported the education of women and girls, so that they too can read and compose music, and also supported their lifestyle choices, so that they can opt to live in such an alternative community. In Philo’s social milieu there must have been women philosophers who taught, since it was perfectly fine for Philo to use the image of a female teacher of philosophy to further his argument (Fug. 55, 58; see Taylor 2004, 117; 2003, 103, 240). Philo states that he was bothered by Exod 21:12 in which there is an extra word in the text which did not make sense (“put to death by death”, θανάτῳ θανατοῦσι), and he “consulted with a wise woman, by name of Skepsis, in order to seek a solution; she taught me …” While it is common to assume that the woman in question is not a real person, it is actually very unlikely that this refers to the personified concept of skepsis, meaning “examination”. Philo does not allegorize the other features of askēsis, or “training”, he identifies: investigation, reading, listening, paying attention, self-control and detachment (Her. 253). Furthermore, naming such a personified feature Skepsis could easily have been interpreted as endorsing the position of the Sceptics. Tal Ilan has shown that Philo did not value the philosophical position at all, and thought that they examined matters only to pointlessly argue about them (Cong. 52–53; Ilan 2006, 32–35), nor did he generally value women’s intellect, and thus we would not expect Philo to combine both in an invented character. Ilan points out that this was a real name attested for women (Ilan 2006, 34, n. 107), and she argues that it is far more likely therefore that Skepsis is a real woman, just as the dialogue partner “Alexander” of De Providentia is most likely Philo’s nephew. Thus, as Kenneth Atkinson (2012, 201) has also concluded, “it shows that [an] educated woman lectured in the greatest centre of learning in the Hellenistic world.” Furthermore, this wise Jewish woman gave Philo other interpretations, including that a

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deathless life is one possessed by love and friendship of God and is to be gained unbodily (ἀσωμάτος κατεσχῆσθαι, Fug. 58). This is certainly appropriate teaching for one who might have been part of the group we call the Therapeutae. Within this group Philo stresses order, which must indicate rules followed by everyone, and there is a division between seniors/elders and juniors (Contempl. 72–75), as well as a means of defining who goes where in terms of an internal hierarchy (Contempl. 66–67), since it was not by order of age, so some kind of administration or at least group decision making must have been in existence in this community, though Philo does not say what this was. We are not told the whole story. Philo identifies what is different, what is useful for his example, and what is worthy in his view. He passes over anything he considers unsuited to his purpose. He skips over matters he disagrees with or finds irrelevant (see Hay 1992). Nevertheless, the identity and character of this alternative community is understandable in the light of the treatise and also in comparison with Philo’s other writings. Philo’s designation of the contemplatives as a θίασος in Mut. 32 is the best indicator of how they might be classified. In using this word, we may think of a Graeco-Roman voluntary association that can be designated as a religious guild (Kloppenborg 1996; Seland 1996). Josephus records a decree of Julius Gaius to the people of Parium which designates synagogue meetings as thiasoi, like other religious guilds (A.J. 14.213–216, see Runesson, Binder and Olsson 2008, 124–125, 230–231). As such, there will invariably be parallels with other thiasoi, but it is the distinctive features of the Therapeutae that are of most importance for their definition, over against the Essenes or any other group. Beyond the synagogue, Celia Schultz (2006, 182) has noted that while thiasoi of one gender only were usual in the Graeco-Roman world, there are indeed instances of mixedgender thiasoi from Thera (OGIS 735) and Miletus (LSAM 48). Richard Ascough (2003, 52) has recorded that of the 33 members of the thiasos of Zeus Hypsistos in Pydna, three were women (see Cormack 1941, 20) and both men and women members were included in the Dionysiac association in Amphipolis as also elsewhere (see Ascough 2003, 52, 55–56). An association dedicated to Serapis in Opus was established in a woman’s house, with administration undertaken by a succession of women (IG X/2, 255; Ascough 2003, 52). In fact, associations dedicated to worshipping Isis and Serapis were invariably mixed gender (IG II2, 1292; Ascough 2003, 57), which again is relevant given the polemical dimensions of the treatise. An inscription on Delos testifies to not only a mixed-gender voluntary association of the Egyptian cult but also to the designation θεραπευταί for those who comprise it (IG XI/4, 1216–1222, 3rd–2nd cent. BCE). Overall then, the people described in Contempl. may be seen as a Jewish voluntary association that has been in some way modelled on patterns known

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from an Alexandrian milieu, a thiasos that is understandable in the context of Alexandrian religious culture. Contempl. may provide an indication that synagogue associations might be classified in this way by others than Julius Gaius (A.J. 14.215), though this is another issue.

Translation and Textual Notes Philo of Alexandria De Vita Contemplativa

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On the Contemplative Life, Or on Suppliants On Virtue, the Fourth Part

Chapter 1: Introduction* A Another Example of Virtue (§1) Having discussed Essenes, who have sought the active life and excelled in all or—at least to speak more moderately*—they have maintained it in most parts, I will now also say next the appropriate things about those people embracing contemplation, in proper sequence of the subject. I add nothing of my own in order to embellish, which it is customary for all the poets and story-tellers to do, for want of good practices. Rather, I will artlessly hold firmly to the truth itself, at which I know that even the most capable speaker will be exhausted. One must struggle and strive nevertheless, for the extraordinary virtue of these men must not become a cause of speechlessness for those who consider it right that nothing good should be kept in silence. (§2) The practice of these philosophers is shown at once by their designation, for they are appropriately called “ministers” (Therapeutae), male and female, either insofar as they command a medical art better than that of cities—for that art ministers to bodies alone, but this one indeed ministers to souls conquered by both difficult and intractable diseases (souls which pleasures, desires, sorrows and fears, covetous, senseless and wrongful acts and the unending multitude of the other passions and evils have afflicted)—or else because they have been schooled from Nature and the sacred laws to minister to Being, which is better than [the] Good, purer than [the] One, and more ancient than [the] Monad. B Poor Examples (§3) To which of those professing piety is it right to compare these people? What about to those who revere the elements: earth, water, air, fire—to which others have also put other names, calling fire Hephaestus, because of the kindling (exapsin), I believe, and the air Hera because the lifting (hairesthai) and raising up on high, and water Poseidon perhaps because of the drink (poton), and the earth Demeter, insofar as she appears to be mother (meter) of all plants and animals? (§4) But the names are inventions of sophists, while the elements

* An asterisk indicates that there is a textual note below.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2021 | doi:10.1163/9789004439238_003

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are inanimate matter, and it is unmoving of itself, underlaid for the Craftsman for all forms of shapes and qualities. (§5) But how about those who revere the finished products—sun, moon, or the other stars, wandering or fixed, or both the entire heaven and its adornment? But these things too have not come to be from themselves, but come to be by means of a certain most perfect Maker (Demiurge) of most perfect understanding. (§6) But how about those who revere the demi-gods, which is surely also something worthy of a joke? For can the same person ever be both immortal and mortal? Besides that, also the origin of their birth is to be culpable, full of youthful debauchery, which they dare, impurely, to associate with the blessed and divine powers—as if those detached from every passion and thrice-blessed consorted, enraptured, with mortal women. (§7) But how about those who revere the wooden images and statues? These are stone and wooden substances, things which up until a moment before were completely shapeless. When stone-cutters and woodcarvers separated them from the source stock, their kindred parts and relatives became bathtubs and foot-basins and other items of dishonourable uses which serve for the needs of darkness more than those in light. (§8) For as for those professing piety among the Egyptians, it is not good to be reminded, those who have led off towards divine honours irrational animals, not only tame ones but also the fiercest wild beasts, from each of those [regions] under the moon: of land creatures—the lion; of water beasts—the indigenous crocodile; of air creatures—the hawk and the Egyptian ibis. (§9) And they worship them, while seeing these being born, and having a need for food—creatures with a voracious appetite and full of excrements, both venomous and human-eating ones, and liable to all kinds of diseases, and not only perishing by a death that is according to Nature but also often by a violent one. The civilized worship the uncivilized and untamed, the rational beings worship the irrational, and those who have kinship with the Divinity worship the animals not even comparable in ugliness with Thersites*; the rulers and masters worship the naturally subservient and slavish. (§ 10) But since these people have surely infected with stupidity not only their compatriots but also those who approach, let them remain untreatable, having been mutilated with respect to sight, the most necessary of the senses. I speak not of physical sight but sight of the soul, by which alone truth and falsehood are recognized.

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C The Example of Virtue (Return) (§11) On the other hand the ministering* type of people, having been taught* further to see always—let them yearn for the vision of Being, rise above the observable sun and never leave this order that leads towards perfect happiness!

Chapter 2: The Good Example A Property (§12) Now these people move towards ministry,* not from custom or from advice or request from anyone, but when they have been seized by heavenly love, just like the Bacchantes and Corybants, they are inspired until they see what is longed for. (§13) Then, because of the yearning for the deathless and blessed life, considering their mortal life to have already ended, they leave aside their belongings to sons or daughters or even to other relatives, giving them an advance inheritance* with free will, and, for those who are without relatives, they leave their belongings to companions and friends. For it is necessary that those who have readily received “the seeing wealth” hand over the “the blind wealth” to those still blind of mind. (§14) Hellenes sing the praises of Anaxagoras and Democritus, because, smitten with yearning for philosophy, they gave up their holdings to become grazed by sheep. I too admire the men myself, in becoming superior to yearning for possessions. But how much better are those people not allowing the animals to graze on their properties, but, after setting right the human needs of relatives or friends, they have even revealed them as well-resourced, instead of unresourced? For that action [of Anaxagoras and Democritus] was inconsiderate— lest I say the action of men whom Greece has admired was “mad”—but this action [of the Therapeutae] is sober and is executed exactly, with exceptional sound judgement. (§15) What do war-enemies do worse than cut down the crops and trees in the land of their opponents, so that, lacking the necessities of life, they are compelled to surrender? People like Democritus have crafted this for those related by blood, bringing down handmade want and hunger on them, not perhaps from bad intentions but by not foreseeing and considering what is advantageous to others. (§16) How much better then are those people who are really to be admired, having no fewer impulses for philosophy, preferring magnanimity to carelessness and giving away their material goods,* yet not wasting them, in order that both others and themselves will benefit: the others by ungrudging generosity; themselves in the work of philosophy? For the cares of belongings and posses-

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sions consume time. Time is a good thing to care about, since, according to the doctor Hippocrates: Life is short, but the Art is long. (§17) It seems to me that Homer also was hinting at this in the Iliad, at the beginning of the thirteenth canto, through these words: “Mysians, fighting hand to hand, and noble mare-milk drinkers —just milk-eaters without livelihood, they are the most righteous persons”. Whereas hurrying about life and money-making produces injustice through inequality, the opposite practice produces righteousness in respect to equality, according to which the wealth of Nature is divided up, and it surpasses the “wealth” found in empty suppositions. B Location (§18) When then they get rid of all belongings, ensnared by nothing further, they flee, without turning, leaving aside siblings, children, wives, parents, numerous relatives, friendly companions, the home towns in which they were born and raised, since the familiar attraction is indeed greatest in its power to catch. (§19) They move not to another city, like those people seeking a sale away from those who have possessed them—unfortunate or bad slaves procuring an exchange of masters, not procuring freedom for themselves—because every city, even the best-governed, is full of noises and unspeakable disturbances,* which a person once led by Wisdom would not endure. (§ 20) But outside city-walls they spend their time in cultivations or smallholdings. They pursue solitude not because of any hostile practice of misanthropy, but knowing the character of the mixture of unlike things to be unprofitable and harmful. (§21) The type of people then [I describe] is in many parts of the inhabited world, for it was necessary for both the Greek and Barbarian worlds to partake of perfect good, but it is abundant in Egypt in each of the so-called “nomes” and especially around Alexandria. (§22) The best ones depart from everywhere as to a home town,* to a certain very suitable place which is above Lake Mareotis, lying upon a rather flat, low hill, extremely well situated on account of both its safety and temperate air. (§23) Both the homesteads and encircling villages thus provide the safety; the temperateness in the air comes from the combined breezes arising from both the lake which flows into the sea and the open sea nearby—the breezes of the sea are light, but those from the lake are heavy— the mixture of which works up a very healthy situation.

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C Housing (§24) The dwellings of those who have come together are very basic, providing protection against the two most pressing things: against both the heat of the sun and the chill from the air. They are neither near [to each other], like those in the towns—for close proximities are vexing and irksome to those who have sought solitude and pursued it—nor are they far apart, because of a sense of community which they embrace, and in order that if there be an attack of robbers they can help each other. (§25) In each there is a sacred room, which is called a sanctuary (semneion) and “solitarium” (monasterion), in which they perfect solitarily the mysteries of the sanctified life, not bringing in either drink or food, or any of the other things which are necessary for the needs of the body, but rather laws, and oracles delivered through prophets, and hymns, and other things by which understanding and piety are fostered and perfected. (§ 26) Always then, they have the unforgetting remembrance of God, so as to visualize even in dreams nothing else but the beauties of the divine virtues and powers. Many in fact even call out in sleep, while dreaming, the glorious doctrines of the sacred philosophy. (§27) Twice each day they are accustomed to pray, at sunrise and at sunset. When the sun is rising they ask for a “fine day,” by which they mean a really “fine day,” that their understanding be filled up with heavenly light, while in the setting of the sun they ask that the soul be completely relieved of the crowd of the senses and objects of sense, coming to be in her own council and court to apprehend truth. (§28) The entire period from morning until evening is for them an exercise, because they philosophize by reading the sacred scriptures, allegorizing the ancestral philosophy,* since they consider aspects of the literal interpretation as [surface] symbols, when its nature is hidden away within deeper meanings. (§29) They have also works of men of old who were the founders of the school of thought, who left behind many reminders of the form [used] in allegorized writings, by which, using them as certain prototypes, they imitate the method of the practice. So they do not only contemplate, but also compose songs and hymns for God by means of all kinds of metres and melodies, songs which they necessarily record with very reverent rhythms. (§30) Thus, for six days each of them philosophizes solitarily apart by themselves in the aforesaid “solitaria,” not going beyond the doorway; and they do not even look [at the doorway] from afar. But on the seventh days they come together as into a common congregation and sit sequentially according to age with the proper posture, keeping the hands inside, the right hand between chest and chin, the left one drawn back along the thigh.

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(§31) After coming forward, the one most senior and most experienced in the doctrines gives a talk, with gaze steady, with voice steady, with reason and consideration, not showing off with a display of words like the orators or the sophists of today, but rather he has examined the accuracy in the thoughts and so interprets. This talk does not stay on the tips of the ears, but comes through the hearing to the soul and there remains securely. All the others listen in silence; they indicate agreement by a look or by a nodding of the head, this alone. (§32) This common sanctuary into which they come together on seventh days is a divided enclosure (peribolos), the one part set aside for the malearea (andrōn), and the one into the female-area (gunaikōnitis). For indeed also women customarily listen together, having the same purpose and the same practice. (§33) The wall between the rooms from the floor to the top is about three or four cubits, constructed* in the form of a protection, with the higher part rising up to the roof left open, for reason of two things: that the proper modesty in the womanly nature be protected and that, sitting in ear-shot, they have easy reception, with nothing impeding the voice of the one talking. D Food (§34) Putting down beforehand self-control as a kind of foundation of the soul, they build up the other virtues (on it). Food and drink none of them would ever deal with before the setting of the sun, since they judge philosophizing to be appropriate for light, while the needs of the body are appropriate for darkness; so the former they have allotted for the day, and to these latter needs they have allotted a certain small part of the night. (§35) Some, in which a greater passion for understanding is implanted, remember food only after three days. Still others are so gladdened and delighted by Wisdom/Sophia, having been feasted richly and unreservedly on the doctrines she has provided, that they are able to hold out for even double the time and only after six days taste necessary food, having become accustomed, as it is said of the species of grasshoppers, to live on air; the song, as I believe, assuages the want. (§36) The seventh day, though, which they consider to be something all holy and all festive, they have deemed worthy of a choice prize of honour. On this day, after the care of the soul, they also lubricate the body, just as doubtless also they release the cattle from the continuous labour. (§ 37) They eat nothing costly, but rather basic bread and a dish of salt, which the delicate prepare with hyssop; drink for them is spring water, with which they propitiate mistresses Hunger and Thirst, which Nature has set over the mortal creature, offering up nothing for flattery, but only essentials, without which it is not possible to live;

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because of this they eat so as not to hunger and drink so as not to thirst, so eschewing excess as an enemy and adversary of soul and body. E Clothing (§38) Since indeed there are two forms of protection, clothing and housing, housing has been spoken of earlier—that it is undecorated and rough, being made for utility itself alone—while their clothing likewise is very basic, [worn] for a defence against chill and heat: it is a thick chlaina as good as a woolly skin* in winter, and an exomis tunic or linen wrap in summer. F Conclusion of Features: The Two Ways (§39) Summing up, they practice unconceitedness, knowing conceit to be the origin of falsehood, unconceitedness the origin of truth,* each one having the quality of a spring, for from the spring of falsehood the many forms of evil are flowing, while the abundant forms of human and divine good flow from the spring of truth.

Chapter 3: The Wrong Symposia A Intoxication (§40) I wish also to speak of their common meetings and their very cheerful ways of behaving in symposia, as contrasted with the symposia of the others. For indeed when those others are filled up with undiluted liquor as if they are not drinking wine but rather drinking some frenzy-inducing and maniacal thing, or some even more dangerous substance for the overturning of reason, they fight* and rave in the manner of wild dogs and, rearing up, they bite each other and chop off noses, ears, fingers, various other parts of the body, so as to demonstrate in these [actions] that there is a truth in the story of Cyclops and Odysseus’s companions, which, says the poet, is in eating human “morsels,” and they show a greater cruelty than that Cyclops. (§ 41) For he assailed those he suspected to be enemies, while they assail acquaintances and friends, and sometimes even relatives. Over the salts and tables, they make warfare in cups of peace, like those in the gymnastic contests, but they create as a counterfeit for genuine exercise the miserable actions of the anti-athletes—for this is the right name for them. (§42) For such exercises that sober men do in stadiums for Pan-Hellenic audiences during the day for the sake of victory and Olympian* crowns, and perform with skill, are debased during symposia at night, in darkness. Drunk, intoxicated, ignorantly and clumsily they work to the dishonour and insult and

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deadly injury of those who endure. (§43) If there is no one who would intervene, coming out as referee in the midst as someone with more authority, they carry on, being murdered and killing at the same time; for they suffer no less than what they deliver, though* they do not know it. Those who do not set aside the wine, as the comic poet says, remain drinking not only for the evil of their neighbour, but also for their own self. (§44) And so they who a little earlier came into the symposia safe and friends a little later exit as enemies and, as they have mutilated their bodies, they are also in need of advocates and judges, on the one hand, and of poultice-makers and doctors, on the other, and the help offered by these. (§45) Others among the fellow-drinkers, who seem to be more moderate, are half-asleep,* drinking undiluted wine [which acts] like mandragora, and they stick out their left elbows and, after turning their neck at an angle, vomit into the cups. Then they sink into a deep sleep, neither seeing anything nor hearing anything, as if having just one sense, and the most slavish: taste. (§46) I know some who, when they have become tipsy yet before they are completely sunk, collect from a donation and tokens for the next drinking session, considering a part of the exhilaration in the moment to be the hope about the intoxication in the future. (§47) This is the way they are behaving, spending their time unhomed and unhearthed, enemies of parents and wives and children, enemies also of the homeland: warmongers, indeed, against themselves. For a limp and profligate life is a menace to all. B Luxury (§48) Perhaps someone might approve of the style of the symposia now emerging everywhere, according to a passion for Italic expensiveness and luxury, which both Hellenes and Barbarians have sought after, making their arrangements for show rather than for a festal occasion: (§ 49) triple-couches and multi-couches* made out of tortoise shell or ivory and of the most valuable wood, most of which are inlaid with stones; coverlets that are purples with interwoven gold, and others that are bright hues of all kinds of colours for luring the eye. A mass of drinking vessels are set out according to type, for there are drinking horns and bowls and chalices and other kinds of Thericlean ware highly crafted and detailed with carvings by skilled men. (§50) There are well-formed and extremely beautiful serving slaves, as though they have arrived not to delight by service but rather, by their appearing in such a way, to delight the eye of the beholders. Of these, some who are still children pour the wine, while the adolescents bear water; bathed and buffed, their faces are rubbed with cosmetics, [their eyes] underlined with kohl and

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the hair of their heads tightly braided, (§51) for their hair is long, either not being cut at all or only the hair of the forehead at the ends, for evenness and an exact shape of a circular line. They are clad in tunics (chitons) both finely-spun and whitish, the fronts of them below knee length,* the backs just below the knees, and they draw together each part with fancy ribbons, placing along the join of the tunics on each side folds they let down, widening the hollow parts of the sides. (§52) Others wait behind, pubescent or* first-bearded lads, downy cheeks just blooming, a short while earlier being toys of the pederasts, dressing up very elaborately, there for the heavier dinner duties, proof of the hosts’ opulence, as their employers think; but, as the truth has it, bad taste. (§53) Further to these things, there are the varieties of cakes and dishes and seasonings, concerning which cooks and chefs labour, taking care not only to please taste, as is necessary, but also sight, by the very pure [artistry]… [lacuna]* (§54) Seven tables at least and more are brought in, full of everything land and sea and rivers and air supply, all chosen and well-fleshed: consisting of animals, of fish, of birds, each one of these differing indeed in the preparations and the garnishings. And, in order not to leave out any kind of thing in Nature, last tables full of fruit are brought in, apart from the tables for the festal cups and the so-called “after-dinners.” (= 55b)* Swivelling their necks around in a circle they gloat with eyes and nostrils at their abundance and plenty, and at their wafting aroma. When then they have become sated by both seeing and smelling, they urge eating, praising not a little the preparation and the host of the extravagance. [lacuna]* (§55a)* Then while some tables are taken out empty on account of the greediness of party-guests, who like feeding gulls stuff themselves so much as even to gnaw at the bones, while mutilating and mangling others they leave them be half-eaten. When finally they refuse, having filled their stomachs up to their throats, they are empty in terms of desire, as if having not tried the foods. (§56) But why is it appropriate to recount things which are already condemned by many of the more moderate people as exacerbating the passions, whereas the lessening of these would be helpful? For one may pray about things most abominable—hunger and thirst—rather than the plentiful abundance of foods and drinks in feasts such as these. C Poor Models (§57) Of the symposia in Greece those most celebrated and significant are two at which Socrates also was present—the one given by Kallias when he enter-

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tained* feasts for Autolykos on having won the crown, and one by Agathon, which also Xenophon and Plato, men who with respect to both character and reasonings are philosophers, judged worthy of remembrance. For they have written these up as worthy to be recorded, which they supposed people still to come would use as examples (paradeigma) of proper conduct in symposia. (§58) But, nevertheless, even these, compared with those of our people who have embraced the contemplative life, will appear ridiculous. Each one has its pleasures then, but more popular is the symposium of Xenophon. Flute-girls and dancers and magicians and comedians are greatly thinking of fun in tricks and jokes; there are some others also thinking of fun* in very merry relaxations. (§59) The Platonic symposium is almost entirely about erotic love, but not of men impassioned for women, or women for men and this alone, for these passions are subject to the laws of Nature, but rather it is about the erotic love of men for males who differ only by age. For indeed if anything about erotic love and heavenly Aphrodite seems to have been cleverly said, it is brought in for the sake of wit. (§60) For the greatest part of it is taken up by the common and ordinary erotic love, removing manliness, the most useful virtue in war and in peace, and producing a female disease in their souls, and making androgynes of those who ought to have been trained in all the pursuits for valour. (§ 61) Maltreating the young age and leading it into the grade and condition of a lover-girl, erotic love has also damaged the [active] lovers in the most important things: body, soul and property. For by necessity the mind of the pederast is set on the children, keen-sightedly on these alone, and he is blind to other things, both private and public; his body is wasted away set by the passions and even more so if he is unsuccessful; while his property is set to suffer in two ways: both from neglect, and from spending it on the lover-boy. (§62) Growing beside it is another even greater ordinary evil. For they generate desolation of cities, a lack of the best type of people and barrenness and sterility. In this they imitate people ignorant of farming, by sowing in a saline or stony soil and hard places, instead of a deep-earthed plain. In this, additionally done so as to produce nothing to spring forth, they even destroy the fallen seeds. (§63) I remain silent about the creations of the myths and the doublebodied ones, who at the beginning were attached to each other by unifying* powers, after which their joined parts were divided, when the harmony by which they were secured was loosened. For all these things are seductive, able to entice the ears with the novelty of the notions. When, from many turns from first youth, the pupils of Moses have learnt to love truth, they look down on these, and continue on undeceived.

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Chapter 4: The Right Symposia A Superior Philosophy (§64) So, since these well-known symposia are full of such foolishness—having in themselves their own refutation, if anyone does not wish to look to the opinion and the report handed down about them as being altogether correct— I will set in contrast the symposia of those who have dedicated their personal manner of life and themselves to knowledge and contemplation of the matters of Nature according to the most sacred instructions of the prophet Moses. (§65) Of prime importance, they gather every seventh of seventh days, not only marvelling at the simple Seven but also at the power [of Seven] as they know she is pure and an ever-virgin. She is also the eve of the greatest festival which [the number] Fifty has obtained, most holy and most natural of numbers, from the power of the right-angled triangle, which is the origin of the generation of the universe. B Peace and Order (§66) Whenever then they come together—white-clad, beaming with the utmost dignity—once one of the “dailies”, as such it is customary to name those in these type of services, gives a sign, they stand sequentially according to rank, in order, before they recline. Both their eyes and hands are lifted up to heaven: their eyes since they have been trained to perceive things worthy of sight and their hands, because they are clean of income, are by no account defiled by anything done for profit. They pray that the festal occasion will be pleasing to God and entered into according to mindfulness. (§67) After the prayers the elders (presbuteroi) recline, following their placements. They do not consider as elders those of many years and old,* but they are still just like young children* if lately they have loved the practice; rather the elders are ones who from first youth have put in time and flourished in the contemplative part of philosophy, the part which is surely the most beautiful and sacred. C Rejection of Pleasure (§68) Eating together also are women, who are mostly old virgins, guarding the purity [of this state] not by necessity, as some of the priestesses among the Hellenes do, but rather out of free will. Because of a craving and passion for Sophia/Wisdom, whom they are eager to live with, they have disregarded pleasures connected with a body, yearning not for mortal offspring but for immortal, which the God-loved soul is able to birth alone by herself, when mind-

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rays of the Father sew in her that which enables her to see the doctrines of Sophia/Wisdom. (§69) The reclining is divided, with men apart on the right and women apart on the left. Do not let anyone at all suppose* that mattresses are to be provided, if not really expensive ones, but then softer ones for people well-born and refined and trained in philosophy. Actually they are rough beds of very ordinary wood, on which are placed very cheap strewings of papyrus of the locality that are a little clumped up at the elbows so that they can lean, for they slightly relax the Laconian tough lifestyle; always and everywhere they make free contentment their business, opposing with strength the love-charms of pleasure. D Equality (§70) They are not served by slaves, considering the possession of servants to be in general against Nature; for she has given birth to all free, but the vices and greeds of some who crave the source of evil, inequality, have imposed a yoke, and have fastened to the more powerful the strength over those who are weaker. (§71) In this sacred symposium, then, there is no slave, as I said: free people serve, fulfilling the table-service requirements not under compulsion or waiting for orders, but anticipating the requests, by free will, with enthusiasm and eagerness. (§72) For not just any free persons are selected for these services, but the juniors of those in the company, being chosen with all care on merit, which method is necessary for refined and well-born people who are pressing on towards the peak of virtue. These, who are just like genuine children, are glad earnestly to assist fathers and mothers, considering them their parents in common closer than those of blood, since of course there is nothing closer than perfect goodness for those who think well. They enter ungirt and let their tunics hang loose, so in serving there is no image to suggest an appearance of a slave. E Sobriety (§73) Into this symposium on those days—and I know that some people will laugh when they hear this, but those who laugh are doing things worthy of tears and lamentation—wine is not brought but rather clearest water, cold for the majority, warm for the more delicate of the older elders, and a table free of meats. On this [table] for food there are loaves of bread and an accompaniment of salts, with which there is sometimes hyssop seasoning prepared, because of the daintier ones. (§74) For just as right reason dictates sobriety for the priests sacrificing, so also for those living this lifestyle; because wine is a drug of foolishness, and costly dishes provoke the most insatiable of animals: desire.

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F Edification (§75) And such are the preliminaries. After the dinner-participants have reclined in the grades I have explained, and after the servers (diakonoi) have stood in order ready for service, when a great silence has come upon all*— “though when is there not?” someone may say, but [I mean] even more than before, so that there is no one daring to murmur or to exhale too strongly— [then] their president (prohedros),* seeks out* something of the [questions] in the sacred scriptures, or also solves [a question] previously offered by another, not thinking of a display [of oratory], for he does not grasp at glory with cleverness of words, but he is longing to see something more accurately and, seeing, he does not resent those who are not similarly sharp-sighted, since they at least have the same will to learn. (§76) He engages in the teaching very slowly, lingering and emphasizing with repetitions, engraving the thoughts on the souls, for in the interpretation of one running on quickly and breathlessly the mind of the listeners, being unable to follow, lags behind and lacks the apprehension of what is said. (§77) They listen, having pricked up their ears and lifted up their eyes* to him, remaining in one and the same position, indicating understanding and acceptance with nods and looks, their praise of the speaker with cheerfulness and by slightly turning the face, perplexity by a gentler movement of the head and by a finger-tip of the right hand. The juniors who are standing are no less attentive than the ones who recline. (§78) The explanations of the sacred scriptures take place through deeper meanings in allegories. For all the law seems to these men to be like a living being, and seems to have words laid out as its body, while its soul, the invisible mind, is stored up in the wording. In the invisible mind the rational soul has begun especially to contemplate similar things:* she is discerning as through a mirror of the names transcendent beauties made of thoughts manifesting and unfolding and revealing the symbols, bringing the meanings out naked into light for those able by a little reminding to contemplate the unseen things through the seen. (§79) When then the president seems to have spoken sufficiently and, according to their practice, to have met both what the discourse is accurately aiming at by the applications [of the method] and also what the audience is aiming for, there is applause from all as if rejoicing together at what will still follow.*

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G Musicality (§80) So then, after standing up, he sings a hymn composed for God: either a new one he has composed himself or an old one, some hymn of the poets of ancient times—for they have left behind many metres and melodies of epic songs, trimetres, processional hymns, libation-songs, altar-songs, choral standing pieces well-measured with beats and counter-beats—and after him also the others, according to grades, in order, take turns, everyone listening in total silence except when they need to sing the closing lines and refrains. For then all men and all women sing aloud. H Modesty (§81) When each one has completed the hymn, the juniors bring in the table mentioned a little earlier. On this is the most holy food: leavened bread with a seasoning of salts, mixed with hyssop, out of deference to the arrangements of the sacred table in the holy vestibule [of the Temple sanctuary]. For upon this table are loaves and salts without seasoning; the loaves are unleavened, the salts are unmixed. (§82) For it was fitting that the plainest and most unadulterated food be allotted to the best part of the priests as a reward for services, and that the others seek similar things, but hold off from them, so that their betters have precedence. I Piety (§83) After the dinner they hold the sacred all-night event. The all-night event is held in this way. They all stand up together and, firstly, they become two choirs in the middle of the dining room (sumposion): the one of men, and the other of women. A leader and chief is chosen for each, one most honoured and most musical. (§84) Then they sing hymns to God composed of many metres and melodies, sometimes they sound together, sometimes there are clapping hands and tapping feet, in antiphonal harmonies, and then they are conjure up processing choruses, then there are stationary ones, as they make both turns and counter-turns in choral dancing. (§85) Then when each of the choirs* of the men by themselves and the women by themselves has been satisfied by itself and from the other, having drunk, as in the Bacchic rites, the wine-cup of God-loving, they intermingle and become one choir from both, a copy of the one of old established by the Red Sea, on account of the astonishing acts there. (§86) For by the command of God the sea became a cause of salvation to some, but of destruction to others. For when it was split apart and drawn away by violent undercurrents, and on each opposing side it was like solid walls, the space in between widened into a highway road all cleared up and dry, through

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which the people walked to the opposite shore, conveyed to the higher places. When the sea had rushed back with contrary currents, both on one side and on the other, and was poured out into the dried bottom, those of the enemies pursuing them were submerged and perished. (§87) After seeing and experiencing this, which was a work surpassing word, thought or hope, both men and women alike, filled with inspiration, becoming one choir, sang the hymns of thanksgiving to the Saviour God, Moses the prophet leading the men and Miriam the prophetess leading the women. (§88) On this, above all, the choir of the ministers (Therapeutae), male and female, is modelled. With re-echoing and antiphonal melodies, the treble of the women mingling with the deep voice of the men, the choir produces harmonious concord, and it is really musical. Lovely are the thoughts, lovely are the words, dignified are the choristers, and the purpose of the thoughts and the words and the choristers is piety. (§89) Being drunk then until dawn with this beautiful intoxication, not heavy-headed or dozing, but roused more awake than when they came into the dining room, they stand with their eyes and their whole bodies facing the east, when they see the sun rising, lifting up their hands to heaven they pray for a fine day and truth and clear-sightedness of reasoning. And, after the prayers, they depart each to their own sanctuary, plying the trade and tilling the field of their usual philosophy.

Chapter 5: Conclusion (§90) Therefore, such are the things to say about ministers who embrace contemplation of Nature, indeed of those living* in her and soul alone, citizens of both heaven and world, who are truly recommended to the Father and Maker of all by virtue, which has procured friendship for them, adding a most appropriate gift of goodness, better than all fair fortune, leading to the very peak of happiness.

Textual Notes The translation presented here is based on C-W, but with some vital variations based on different textual decisions. While there are numerous small variants between the manuscripts, only the more significant ones affecting meaning are noted here. For more detail, see not only C-W, but also the excellent linguistic discussions in Graffigna (1992). § 1 As Colson (PLCL 9:112–113, n. 1) indicates, some manuscripts read φορητότερον (β, O, so Mang.), others ἀφορητότερον (A, γ, Arm., Lat.) in the first sentence, with C-W favouring the former, hence “more moderately” (cf. Legat. 287). However, Conybeare (1895, 26, 192–193) believed that Philo wrote the latter (in the sense of “more unpalatably”). Most recent scholars agree with C-W’s choice of φορητότερον, translating “more moderately” (Colson 1954, 113) or “more acceptably” (Winston 1981, 41), though Graffigna (1992, 35) sides with Conybeare, translating “meno perentoria,” “less peremptory,” though he notes the P reading of εὐφορητότερον, “much more tolerably” which in many ways would make sense of why the variant favoured by Conybeare even crept in (εὐ misread as ἀ). Conybeare argues that ἀφορητότερον is common in classical prose and that Philo intends to emphasize that the Essenes do not excel in all areas of virtue, even though this would strike his contemporaries as “unpalatable.” However, it would make better sense if Philo were insisting that he is not overstating the case in his description of the Essenes, which implies he will be moderate in his assessment of those he describes as following the contemplative life. § 9 θερσίτῃσι: manuscript A and Arm. have Thersites; C-W and Conybeare restore this from these, when all other Greek manuscripts have θερσί τισι. The Latin also suggests Thersites in using monstris. § 11 θεραπευτικόν, “ministering” in codd.; θεωρητικόν, “contemplative” or similar in Arm. and Lat. § 11 προσδιδασκόμενον, “having been taught” appears in all the manuscripts and is accepted by Conybeare, but C-W prefer to read προδιδασκόμενον, “having been taught previously.” The word προσδιδάσκω is rare, but is used by Philo in Mos. 1.111, where προσδιδασκέσθω, means “he is taught further.” This is surely preferable to the C-W modification.

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§ 12 θεραπείαν, “ministry,” in the Greek codd. but θεωρίαν, “contemplation,” in the Arm. and Lat. On the basis of the Armenian the text would read: “those moving towards contemplation.” § 13 προκληρονομούμενοι, “giving an advance inheritance,” is corrected from the Greek codd. which have προσκληρονομούμενοι, “attaching an inheritance,” thus: “they leave aside their belongings to sons and daughters or even to other relatives, attaching an inheritance [to them] with free will.” § 16 τοὺς χρωμένους, “possessions,” as found in γ and Arm. (and so Conybeare), is preferred by Graffigna (1992, 44), rather than χρόνους, “times,” AβOPQ, as found in C-W, so that the reading is “i beni materiali consuma infatti chi ne fa uso”: “material goods in fact consume those who use them.” § 19 ταραχῶν ἀμυθήτων, “unspeakable disturbances,” is found in most codd. but one manuscript (Vat. 242) has γέμει θορύβων καὶ κηρῶν καὶ ταραχῶν, “is full of noises and plagues and disturbances”; see discussion in Daumas and Miquel (1963, 90) where this reading is considered a lectio difficilior and favoured, and see also Graffigna (1992, 113). For some comparison see Deus 112, where κηρῶν seems to mean “plagues.” However, the meaning should be that the city is distractingly cacophonous rather than dangerous to health, since the person led by Sophia/Wisdom simply cannot endure this, and thus the edition of C-W seems right here. § 22 θεραπευτῶν is added to the C-W text and replicated in Colson’s edition in square brackets, since it is found in A as πατρίδα, θεραπευτῶν, “homeland, of ministers,” and πατρίδα θεραπευτῶν, “homeland of ministers,” in Arm. and Eus. However, it seems to read as a clarification, and indicates that the best ones here are the people defined in §2. It seems then to be more of a gloss than an essential part of the text and is not translated here. § 28 φιλοσοφίαν is found in the codd., but Arm. and the Latin translation of Eus. by Rufinus indicate νομοθεσίαν, “law,” which Conybeare follows, though Eus. (Gk.) has simply σοφίαν, “wisdom,” thus the whole phrase reads respectively as “allegorizing the ancestral law” (Arm., Ruf.) and “allegorizing the ancestral wisdom” (Eus.). The variants seem to make explicit what is meant, but § 26 has similar language of calling Scripture “the sacred philosophy,” τῆς ἱερας φιλοσιφίας, containing doctrines that can be called out.

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§ 33 συνῳκοδόμηται, “constructed,” appears in the codd. This may be a corruption of εὐ ᾠκοδόμηται, “well built,” on the basis of the Arm., given just ᾢκοδόμηται can be inferred from the Lat.; Conybeare (cf. Praem. 120) combines the evidence, thus εὐ συνῳκοδόμηται, “well-constructed.” However, the εὐ of the Arm. could equally have arisen as a misreading of συν, since the importance of the wall being constructed “well” seems not critical. § 38 Conybeare reads ἀντὶ λασίου δορᾶς (AγOPQ Arm.), which translates as “instead of a woolly cloak” and this is followed by Graffigna (1992, 56), but β codd. (BDEM) have ἀπὸ λασίου δορᾶς, “from a woolly cloak.” The former option is preferable but since ἀντί can also hold a meaning of equivalence (LSJ 153 A.III.2), it may mean “as” or “as good as.” Conybeare also reads ἢ ὀθόνη as ἠ ὀθόνη, thus as “a smock without sleeves, the linen coat namely,” though this is more speculative. An ὀθόνη is a linen wrap. § 39 In the Greek codd. the cases read: τύφου, ψεῦδος, ἀτυφίας and ἀλήθειαν, and are therefore back to front; this is corrected in C-W on the basis of the Lat. § 40 κράζουσι, “fight” (βQ, Arm. Lat.) is preferred by Conybeare and also Colson (PLCL 9:136) and (Graffigna 1992, 56), but ἀράσσουσι, “smite, dash in pieces” (AγP) appears in C-W, and is a slightly stronger word. The former is translated here since the latter is not a word otherwise used by Philo. § 42 The term “Olympian” appears in the Arm., Ὀλυμπίων or Ὄλυμπιακῶν, but the form Ὀλυμπιονῖκαι, “Olympic conquerors,” is found in the codd. (see Daumas and Miquel 1963, 110–111). It is put in brackets in C-W and likewise in Colson (PLCL 9:138). O reads Ὀλυμπιονῖκαι καὶ σὺν. It seems quite likely that an original καὶ that should follow Ὀλυμπίων has been melded with the word to create the predominant manuscript version. It needs detaching to be placed in the next clause. § 43 ἄπερ, “as,” found in the codd., is preferred by Colson (PLCL 9:138) to the CW amendment to ὅπερ, “though,” but he retains the latter in his text; Graffigna (1992, 60) follows the codd. § 45 Codd. AMQ and Arm. read ὐποβεβλύκασι, and it is amended to ὑπερβεβλύκασι in C-W, followed by Colson (PLCL 9:138). This is because the verb ὑπερβλύζω is used of drunkenness in Ebr. 221 and is used of overflowing rivers in Aet. 147, but ὐποβεβλήκασι appears in all other manuscripts. The verb ὑποβλέπω, literally “look from below (eyelids),” is an indication of being half asleep (LSJ 1876) and

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is commonly used for a state of inebriation in Philo (see e.g., Somn. 2.168). It is therefore curious to prefer an emendation, which is unattested, when the latter attested reading links with the stupefaction of mandragora and the word βαπτισθῆναι (§46): they are “going under,” or “sinking,” in colloquial terms. The usual manuscript reading is therefore preferred in this translation. § 49 Nearly all Greek codd. read περίκλινα, a hapax probably meaning “couches around the table” (LSJ 1377). The Armenian, however, indicates πολύκλινα, so C-W, adopts it: “couches to seat several” or “multiple couches”. Daumas and Miquel (1963, 114), prefer the codd. reading, noting Lat. stibadia would translate it, but there seems to be a movement from “three” to “many” in the sense of the sentence. § 51 Colson (PLCL 9:142) rightly suspected a misprint in C-W in its rendering of γόνου from the codd. (which can mean “genitals,” LSJ γόνας A.iv.2) rather than γόνυ (“knee”) since both Conybeare and Mangey have the latter, without comment, thus Graffigna (1992, 64), though Winston (1981, 319), following Bormann, retains it. Consultation with manuscript L in Trinity College Cambridge has confirmed that the reading is γόνυ and C-W should be corrected. § 52 Colson critiques C-W, in which ἤ, “or,” is added between μειράκια (“lads”) and πρωτογένεια (“first-bearded,” PLCL 9:142); this is inserted following the form in Cher. 114 and Hypoth. 11.3, though πρωτογένεια should then not be neuter. §§53–55 This section of the treatise is problematic textually in that there may be a lacuna following the word καθαριότητι, “very pure [artistry].” C-W do not show what the manuscripts actually have, as presented in Mangey. The C-W text (VI.60) offers a speculative transposition of text from § 55 to § 53. Colson (PLCL 9:144–146) follows C-W, but with serious hesitation. A different transposition is followed here. See the Commentary discussion. § 57 The Middle imperfect verb εἱστιᾶτο, found in the codd. is changed to the Active εἱστία in the C-W text, to read “he entertained” or “put on” a feast. Colson comments that “the active with the host as subject and the occasion as a cognate accusative agrees with the ordinary Greek usage” (Colson, PLCL 9:146–147), though he also notes that Conybeare retains the Middle. It does not seem very problematic to use the Middle, since subject and cognate accusative could still be retained.

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§ 58 Colson (PLCL 9:147) notes that the codd. read differently to C-W’s μέγα φρονοῦντες εἰσί τινες καὶ ἄλλα, “greatly thinking there are some others also.” The codd. break this up: μέγαφρονοῦντες· εἰσι δέ τινα καὶ ἄλλα in β and μέγαφρονοῦντες· εἰσι τινα καὶ ἄλλα in AOQγ, so the verb εἰσι belongs in a different place and there is τινα in neuter plural instead of nominative; Colson writes, of the codd., “Cohn’s objection to this is not stated, but presumably is to the plural verb with neuter plural noun.” It seems here that C-W’s correction of τινα is appropriate, since the ending of τινα could be explained as a copyist’s error given the proximity of ἄλλα. More difficult to accept is the difference in punctuation. § 63 While most manuscripts have ἔρωτικαῖς, “erotic,” C-W read ἔνωτκαῖς with A and Arm., meaning “unifying,” which must be right not only on the basis of the expression δυνάμεις ἑνωτικαί, “unifying powers,” in Plant. 89 (so Colson, PLCL 9:150), but also simply for sense. § 67 πολιοὺς, “grey-haired”, is given in the C-W text, following the suggestions of Mangey, while the codd. have παλαιοὺς, “old.” There seems no reason to change this word other than to avoid a repetition of a word that is essentially the same meaning, but repetition of synonyms is not atypical of Philo and it seems generally not advisable to suggest a different word when the codices indicate one that is reasonable (thus it is retained in Graffigna 1992, 74). The codd. reading is therefore adopted. § 67 ἀλλ’ ἔτι κομιδῆ νέους παὶδας, “but they are still just like young children,” are words absent from the Arm. but present in AγOPQ and Colson (PLCL 9:154) rightly thinks it unjustifiable to put them in brackets, as in C-W. § 69 μή πού τις ὑπολαμβάνει, “do not let anyone at all suppose” (C-W, Colson, Daumas) is found in the manuscripts as ἤ πού τις ὑπολαμβάνει or εἴ πού τις ὑπολαμβάνει and Graffigna (1992, 77) opts for ἦ πού τις ὑπολαμβάνει, reading “perhaps you can think of …” Colson (PLCL IX, 154–155) includes the C-W reading but translates, “perhaps it may be thought …,” while Conybeare (1894, 766) suggests: “perhaps someone imagines …” The C-W emendation is accepted here and translated accordingly. § 75 The phrasing ὀ πρόεδρος ἀυτῶν, πολλῆς ἁπάντων ἡσυχίας γενομένης, “the president, when a great silence has come upon all,” is missing in all codd. and reconstructed in C-W on the basis of the Armenian and followed by Daumas and Miquel as well as Colson (PLCL IX, 158). Conybeare renders the last four

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words as ὅτε κοινὴ ἡσυχία γέγονεν, which is apparently a more literal version of the Armenian, avoiding a Genitive absolute, and this is followed by Graffigna. § 75 C-W has changed the ζητεῖται of the manuscripts to ζητεῖ; Colson (PLCL 9:158) suggests the Passive mood of the verb is changed to Active to ensure there is a verb to go with πρόεδρος. However, since there is a rare Middle form of this verb attested (LSJ 756), and it may be better to preserve the possibility of a similar rarity here and leave it as it is. The meaning would not really change: “seeks out.” § 77 τὰ ὦτα καὶ τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς άνατετακότες, “their ears and lifted up their eyes,” is missing in all the codd. and is a reconstruction in C-W on the basis of the Arm., by reference to Philo’s phrasing in Decal. 45. Conybeare noted how ἀνορθιάζω should be followed by τὰ ὦτα, but the reference to lifting up their eyes is not found elsewhere in Philo as a corollary. § 78 The Arm. and Eus. share a common lacuna here in omitting ἐν ῷ ἤρξατο ἡ λογικὴ ψυχὴ … θεωρεῖν, “in which the rational soul has begun especially to contemplate similar things.” § 79 The manuscripts have εἰς το ἔτι ἐποψόμενον, but ἐποψόμενον is only attested in Ionic form, not Attic, and thus it is corrected to ἑψόμενον in C-W (from ἕπομαι, “follow”), meaning “the thing that will be following,” or “what will follow.” The expression τὸ ἑψόμενον is in fact found in one manuscript (Q). However, Conybeare, following the Armenian here, has εἰς τὸ τρίτον μόνον, translating “for three times only” (Conybeare 1894, 768), relating to a rather limited applause. This seems contradictory in regard to the fact that the applause takes place “when (ὡς ἃν LSJ 2038) rejoicing together (συνηδομένων),” and Conybeare engages in some paraphrasing of the whole sentence to make it work in English. The word κρότος, “rattling noise,” for applause, is not actually an individual hand clap but the sound of many hands clapping for a period of time, and it is hard to see how that could be configured as taking place “three times only.” § 85 The word for “choirs,” χορῶν, is given by C-W (as well as Conybeare, Colson, Daumas and Graffigna) on the basis of the Arm., when the Greek manuscripts have τῶν ἀνδρῶν, “of the men”, so as to read “when each of the men by themselves.” However, Colson (PLCL 9:164, n. 3) notes that one of the manuscripts, actually G, has τῶν ἂνδρῶν ἰδία καὶ τῶν γυναικῶν ἰδία: “when each of the men by themselves and each of the women by themselves,” a reading adopted by Mangey (and see C-W 69). However, losing χορῶν does not seem right since the

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focus is on the two choirs which will now become one, not on each group of persons. A composite reading that includes the longer phrasing would be: χορῶν τῶν ἂνδρῶν ἰδία καὶ τῶν γυναικῶν ἰδία, after which καὶ καθ’ ἑαυτὸν ἑστιασθῇ would neatly follow. This is adopted here. § 90 For τὼν … βιωσάντων, “those living,” the Arm. suggests a reading of τὼν … θεωρησάντων, “those contemplating,” which would relate to Plato, Phaedr. 66e; this may then be an amendment.

Commentary

∵

The Title For the title of the treatise, see the above comments on the treatise within the Philonic corpus (Introduction pp. 32–33). The title is found in the Greek manuscripts as Περὶ βίου θεωρητικοῦ ἢ ἱκετῶν ἀρετῶν [τὸ] δ or Περὶ βίου θεωρητικοῦ ἢ ἱκετῶν ἀρετῆς τὸ τέταρτον: “On the Contemplative Life or On Suppliants—On Virtues no. 4” or “On the Contemplative Life or On Suppliants—On Virtue the fourth part” (see Morris 1987, 856, n. 189). The title ἱκέται ἢ περὶ ἀρετῶν τὸ δ, “Suppliants or On Virtues no. 4” appears in manuscript A (see Conybeare 1895, 25). Thus, the additional designation περὶ ἀρετῶν appears in C-W, followed by Colson (LCL 9:518), with the other manuscripts’ designation τὸ τέταρτον, “the fourth part.” Eusebius cites the treatise as: Περὶ βίου θεωρητικοῦ ἢ ἱκετῶν (Hist. eccles. 2.17.3; 2.18.7), “On the Contemplative Life or On Suppliants,” presenting it as a stand-alone text. This probably relates to how things were stored in the Caesarea library. In the Armenian version the title is found only as Περὶ βίου θεωρητικοῦ (Terian 2019, 2), “On the Contemplative Life.” The use of the term ἱκετῶν, “suppliants,” may seem strange, and the word does not in fact appear in the treatise, but to Philo the words ἱκέται and θεραπευταί were very similar and often linked together in his writings, where he uses both terms for those who are involved with cultic services, especially Levites, for example in Det. 160; Migr. 124; Sacr. 118–119; Spec. 1.309; Virt. 185–186 (see above on the meaning of the term θεραπευταί, pp. 51–57 and discussion in Taylor 2003, 59–61).

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§§1–11 Introduction A

Another Example of Virtue §§1–2

In the introduction to the treatise On the Contemplative Life (De vita contemplativa) Philo positions his discussion in a sequence in which he provides examples for philosophical lifestyles. He has apparently already discussed the active life in a previous treatise, using the Essenes as his representative group, and now he will discuss a group who exemplify the contemplative or meditative “seeing” lifestyle. In defining them, Philo says that the men and women who adopt this lifestyle are called “ministers” or “attendants”: θεραπευταί and θεραπευτρίδες (see Introduction pp. 51–57). In order to emphasize their character, Philo then goes on to play on two of the variant meanings of the verb θεραπεύω, “minister to,” “attend to,” “serve,” “care for,” or else “treat (medically).” He begins by stating that these people heal souls and then, developing the theme of service, Philo notes that in truly giving honour to God they stand in total opposition to the people who revere the elements, the heavenly bodies, demigods, statues of gods and Egyptian animal deities (§§ 3–10). A dichotomy is set up between the example of the ministers of God (Therapeutae) and those who minister to these other entities, who create spiritual illness rather than health, darkness rather than light, falsehood rather than truth, blindness rather than sight, resulting in imagery of startling dualism that hint at the Two Ways Philo refers to in §39. Philo then concludes his introduction by extolling the contemplative people who are engaged in the ministry/service of God, people whose aim is to have a vision of Being, while in an ecstatic state much like those who serve Bacchus or Cybele. In this way, the introduction ends by making reference to the conclusion of the entire treatise §§90. The life of contemplation was defined in one of the treatises of Philo’s opponents in Rome, written by Chaeremon (see Introduction, pp. 5–19), in his treatise On the Egyptian Priests (Porphyry, Abst. 4.6–9), where the Egyptian priests exemplify the perfect lifestyle of this philosophical ideal. Chaeremon states that not only do they live a contemplative life but they are “philosophers” among the Egyptians, who are honoured by all people. In terms of the historical context of the treatise, an example from the Graeco-Egyptian side (against the Jews) using the model of the Egyptian priests would need to be countered by an example from the Jewish side.

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In §2 Philo describes certain “philosophers” who are engaged in a type of contemplative lifestyle. The final sentence of this section makes the exclusivity of his exemplars quite clear, since he describes the philosophers as devoted to the worship of Being. In Virt. 64 Philo states that it is the task of all Jews to make “supplication of Being.” In Conf. 94–96 Philo quotes Exod 8:1: ἐχαπόστειλον τὸν λαόν, ἵνα με θεραπεύῃ (for the LXX: ἵνα μοι λατρεύσωσιν), “Send forth the people that they may serve me,” adding that “those who minister to Being (τῶν τὸ ὄν θεραπευότων) ascend to the heavenly height by thoughts, led by Moses.” This appears to refer to Jews who make exegetical study of Moses their ultimate concern. But not all Jews “contemplate”; in Praem. 51 Philo identifies those who follow the contemplative life as being old people, who focus on it after the active life of their youth; though those who adopt both lifestyles are simply defined in Praem. 11 as “the seekers of virtue” (τοὺς ἀρετῆς ζηλωτάς), inspired by the hope of happiness. Since these examples are Jews it seems from this alone that he means to indicate Jews in Contempl. Philo later accepts that those who follow a contemplative lifestyle may be found in many parts of the world (§ 21), but they are most likely conceptualized as being included in dispersed Israel, even if they are not labelled immediately (and for further see below). In identifying those who live the contemplative life Philo does not mean to refer to all Jews here, since in §§13–20 he will refer to these people as separating themselves from their families and friends, their property and all money-making, and from residence in cities, in following their contemplative existence. He appears at the outset to define a specific contemplative group of Jews with a philosophical purpose, even though the reference is not overt. They are not schismatic or sectarian, but rather the authentic disciples of Moses (Nikiprowetsky 1979, 124): elite examples to emulate. Detailed Comments (§1) Having discussed Essenes The word διαλεχθείς literally means “having talked through,” with the initial διά indicating a drawn out speech. The translation of “having spoken” is appropriate for speaking in a public discourse, but misses the fullness of the Greek verb. English translations that preserve this (“having discoursed”), however, sound antiquated. Philo begins by referring to a previous discussion he has presented on the Essenes, pursuers of the “active life” of philosophy. In using this verb (διαλέγω), Philo himself indicates that he is giving a talk, and he repeats other words of “saying” later on (§§10, 14, 40, 63, 71). From the internal evidence of this opening paragraph, Contempl. was at least a two-part work in which Philo set side by side two communities representing

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two roads to philosophical greatness in terms of their lifestyles: active and contemplative. The first part was a detailed account of the Essenes. It is not right to read Philo as indicating he is referring to a contemplative sub-group of the Essenes since, as Conybeare (1895, 192, 278–279) notes, there would have to be the addition of τῶν before Ἐσσαίων for this reading to work, or “it would not be agreeable to the run of the sentence.” He insists that it contrasts the two lives, one active and one contemplative. Those who follow the contemplative life in this treatise are described as being very different to the Essenes found elsewhere in Philo’s extant corpus (Hypoth. 11.1–18 and Prob. 75–91). While we will soon learn that the exemplars of contemplative philosophy are near Alexandria, the Essenes are described by Philo as being located in Syria Palaestina/ Judaea (Prob. 75; Hypoth. 11.1), a location confirmed explicitly or implied by the descriptions of other writers (Josephus, B.J. 2.118–161; A.J. 18.18–22, cf. B.J. 1.78–80; 2.112–113, 567; 5.145; A.J. 13.171–172, 310–314; 15.371–379; 17.345–348; Pliny, Nat. 5.15, 4/73, and see also Hippolytus, Refutatio omnium haeresium 9.13–28; Porphyry, Abst. 4.11–13; Synesius, Dio 3.2; Solinus, Collectanea 35.9–12; for a full discussion see Taylor 2012, 3–201 and Introduction, pp. 58–60). Furthermore, while Philo elsewhere emphasizes the exclusively male and rather elderly aspect of the Essenes (Hypoth. 11.3), even stating that the Essenes do not bring wives into their fellowship because of the conflicts wives would produce (Hypoth. 11.14–18), he includes women among the exemplars he discusses in Contempl. He shows no evidence of knowing about Josephus’s order of married Essenes (B.J. 2.120), and does not seem to imagine that women could join the Essenes independently (see Taylor 2003, 70–71; Taylor 2012, 42–45). Given that women appear here in Contempl. as undertaking the contemplative lifestyle in an autonomous way, and without qualification in terms of what he has otherwise stated, they cannot be Philo’s Essenes. Given the length of the discussion of the group in Contempl., this probably means that the missing description of the Essenes was longer and more detailed than Philo’s extant treatments of the Essenes. However, Daumas (Daumas and Miquel 1963, 11–12) argues that Philo is simply referring to Hypoth. 11.1–18 (though see Bormann 1964, 44, n. 1; Hay 2003). who have sought the active life and excelled in all The verb ἐζήλωσαν, from the verb ζηλόω, may seem at first sight to imply that the Essenes were very zealous in their pursuit of the active life, but the verb indicates a striving to emulate out of esteem, envy or zeal, invariably with a strong feeling (LSJ 755). Philo uses it as meaning “emulate” on a number of occasions (e.g., Prob. 82). It is used four other times in Contempl. in a transitive sense

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to express a seeking out or aspiring after an object: solitude (24), luxury (48), wealth (ironically, in 70), pure food (82). To translate Philo’s usage of ζηλόω consistently as “emulate,” “seek out,” or “crave” then best standardizes its use in this treatise, and a sense of “be zealous for” is not quite appropriate. or—at least to speak more moderately—maintained it in most parts Neither of Philo’s extant accounts on the Essenes prepares us for his remark that they excelled in most, but not all, areas of virtue, implying that there was some aspect of their lifestyle which Philo did not absolutely support. Interestingly, in both of these accounts, Philo immediately announces that the Essenes are Jews/ Judaeans (Prob. 75; Hypoth. 11.1); whereas—as noted above—he does not overtly refer to the Jewish identity of the contemplative group until relatively late in Contempl. The extant accounts of the Essenes do not present them as exhibiting an active as opposed to a contemplative philosophical life (Engberg-Pedersen 1999, 42), but are governed by different themes: in Prob. it is the theme of the freedom of the good, and in the surviving section of Hypoth. the theme concerns the value of fellowship, κοινωνία (Hypoth. 11.1, 14, 16). Both the surviving Philonic accounts of the Essenes are “buried” in treatises that discuss other groups or persons, but the reference of Contempl. suggests that the companion account of the Essenes must have dealt exclusively with them. From these considerations it seems best to assume that Contempl. 1 alludes to a no-longer extant treatise Philo wrote of the Essenes which would have had some overlaps with surviving descriptions. That would indicate that he wrote at least three times about the Essenes (for the other cases see Bilde 1998, 34–39; Taylor 2003, 48–50, 68–72; Taylor 2007; Taylor 2012, 22–48). I will now also say next the appropriate things about those people embracing contemplation For the philosophical “lives” tradition, see the Introduction (pp. 29–31). Contemplation was key in Platonic philosophy, as explored by Festugière (1936; see Daumas and Miguel 1963, 79), and for Porphyry, Abst. 1.53. Overall, in § 1 Philo tells his readers that he will now take the next logical step and describe persons who pursue the contemplative life, given the association between the active and contemplative philosophical lifestyles in classical presentations of ideal lives. Philosophers could be defined as models in terms of the lives they exemplified, such as Dichaerchus (active) and Theophrastus (contemplative) (so Cicero, Fin. 5.57; Dichaerchus, Frags. 29 and 31). In Leg. 1.52–58 (cf. Praem. 11) Philo states that virtue is both contemplative and practical. Ideally, all Jews are expected to mix the two together: they should devote six days to the active

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life of philosophy and one to the contemplative (Decal. 100; Spec. 2.64). Thus, the contemplative life is actually that of the Sabbath. Philo personally valued the contemplative life above the active: “What is better than a life of contemplation or more appropriate to a rational being?” (Migr. 47, cf. QG 4.47). The model is Moses (Mos. 1.48). However, he also associates this better life is found “in old age,” (ἐν γήρᾳ). He will not make it unambiguously clear until §63 that the people he describes in Contempl. are Jews, but a definite identification of Jewish ideal types may have been made earlier in the whole work of which this treatise is but one surviving part. In the same way, in a treatise called De virtutibus, which also comes from a missing larger work, three philosophical virtues are expounded with reference to Mosaic law. Helpfully, within De virtutibus, Philo mentions that the first (no longer extant) parts deal with the virtues of simplicity and humility (Virt. 17). However, in the case of Contempl., while explicit mention that both the Essenes and those who embrace a contemplative lifestyle are Jewish is not made at the very outset, § 2 suggests that Philo is only concerned with Jewish exemplars (see below). in proper sequence of the subject. The phrase ἀκολουθίᾳ τῆς πραγματείας is an expression that has been understood by Engberg-Pedersen (1999, 41) as meaning that Philo was writing a certain type of specific literary genre, a pragmateia, or “systematic or scientific treatise” (cf. Aristotle, Eth. nic. 2.2), as if πραγματεία is a technical word. However, as noted in the Introduction (p. 26), the term πραγματεία has been shown to be a very general one implying no precise literary form (see discussion in Manetti 1986, 25). That it just means the “subject of a treatise” (LSJ 1457) seems obvious in view of Philo’s use of the word πραγματεία elsewhere in his works: in Ebr. 97 it means “study/subject/topic,” as in Congr. 147 and 149 (regarding definitions and grammatical study); and see Mut. 53, 75: “the subject of physics and logic”; Somn. 1.102: “the sophists of the literal subjects”; Somn. 1.120: “the subject’s hidden meaning.” Philo also uses the word to mean “matter” (Sacr. 120; Spec. 2.65); Flaccus became familiar with “Egyptian affairs/matters” (Flacc. 3). It can also mean “occupation/business” or “effort/labour” (Gig. 29; Deus 97; Abr. 30; Spec. 2.102; 3.105; Praem. 142; Fug. 33; Hypoth. 11.6, cf. 11.5). In no case in Philo is there any suggestion of a genre of a scientific treatise. Colson (PLCL 9:113) translates the expression a little loosely as “in accordance with the sequence required by the subject,” to indicate that Philo is conforming to a type of discussion that passes from one type of philosophical life to the next. There is a clear progression from one subject to another, from the topic of the active life to the contemplative life.

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I add nothing of my own in order to embellish, which it is customary for all the poets and story-tellers to do Here Philo indicates quite a negative concept of the poets, though in § 17 he will use Homer (Il. 13.5–6) very positively. In other works he can be very positive about “wise poets” and their contribution to education (Agr. 18.4; Congr. 75; Prob. 98, 143, Sacr. 78; Spec. 1.343), but there is a higher standard of truth and wisdom than they can actually furnish. In Opif. 4, as here, Philo indicates that neither the poets or story-tellers can do justice to the beauty of concepts of the cosmos found in Genesis, as written by Moses: “In celebrating the beauty of the thoughts contained in this creation account, no one, whether writing poetry or prose, can do them true justice. They transcend both speech and hearing, for they are greater and more august than what can be adapted to the instruments of a mortal being” (trans. Runia 2001, 47). Despite all kinds of literary brilliance then, speakers/writers are ultimately inadequate in their abilities to express philosophical excellence, and indeed “poets and sophists” can even delight in fictions (Opif. 157). A much more negative view comes across in the Special Laws: the “poetical type” of persons (τό … ποιητικὸν γένος) find the task of truth difficult (Spec. 2.164). Elsewhere, poets overall seem to be distinguished from the “story-tellers” (λογογράφοι; Opif. 4; Plant. 159; Spec. 4.230) or, more dangerously, “myth-writers” (μυθογράφοι), who are invariably negatively presented by Philo as spreading delusion by false opinions, creating the artifice of new gods that consign the true, existing God to oblivion (Spec. 1.28; cf. 4.59; Decal. 55, Gig. 58). for want of good practices ἐν σπάνει καλῶν ἐπιτηδευμάτων, has been translated by Colson (PLCL 9:113) as “through lack of excellence in the lives and practices which they record” and Winston (1981, 42) as “through a dearth of noble life-styles in the subjects they treat.” The use of the word ἐπιτήδευμα by Plato as “ways of living” (Phaedr. 233d; Leg. 793d) would account for such translations, but for the meaning as “practice” see Plato, Leg. 711b, 918b. In Philo ἐπιτήδευμα appears as “practice” numerous times, including, in this treatise, in § 60. The stress is on the methods used by prose writers and poets, i.e., a tendency to exaggerate and to use overblown language in order to praise their subjects. Rather, I will artlessly hold firmly to the truth itself The word ἀλλά creates a clear distinction between what Philo intends to do and the work of the poets and prose-writers. The term “artlessly” (ἀτεχνῶς) indicates no literary craft will be used and has a Stoic ring. Philo begins by strongly insisting that his account will be truthful. He will add nothing to enhance the

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credit of his subjects. He and his readers know that poets, orators and storytellers commonly exaggerate or invent things to make their subjects better than they are. He, however, will simply stick to the facts. He will not praise those he describes more than they deserve. This kind of assertion is found in historical literature as far back as Thucydides (Hist. 1.21), who states that his writing is better than that of poets, who exaggerate the importance of their themes, or the prose chroniclers, who are less interested in telling the truth than in catching the attention of the public, and whose stories are unverifiable. Plato does not allow poets in his ideal republic (Resp. 10.601a–b). Philo claims he will not use the crafty techniques of the poets and story-tellers who improve on reality. As noted, he uses similar phrasing in Opif. 4. Such assertions do not, however, indicate that purely factual information is indeed contained, unenhanced, since such claims could also accompany descriptions of the fabulous, as Engberg-Pedersen (1999, 43) has noted. However, while a major feature of fabulous tales is that they are situated in a remote location far from the author’s world. Philo’s exemplars here are easily verifiable, near to the city of Alexandria (Taylor 2003, 8–10). Philo’s treatise is an example of rhetoric, not a simple factual account, and he manipulates his audience into focusing on some aspects of the group more than others (see Hay 1992; Taylor 2003, 11–15; see Introduction, p. 27). at which I know that even the most capable speaker will be exhausted The expression πρὸς ἣν in this case “at which” rather than “towards which,” since it expresses the reason for of the speaker’s failure of energy, see LSJ 1498 III: 3; 174: II. For ἀπαγορεύσει, “exhausted,” see LSJ 174: II. The same sense of the word is found also in §55. Colson (PLCL 9:113) translates πρὸς ἣν … ἀπαγορεύσει not as the final clause of the first sentence (as in C-W’s text), but as a qualifying clause beginning the second sentence: “Though I know that in this case it is such as to unnerve the greatest master of oratory, still we must persevere …” It seems more natural to read the Greek as the conclusion of the opening long sentence, as does Winston (1981, 42), who renders that last part of the first sentence: “[I shall] absolutely hold to the truth itself, in the face of which I well know even the most eloquent orator would abandon the effort.” The greatest rhetorician might well be exhausted, or flag, by having to tell the truth all the time. Perhaps Philo means that it will be hard to do justice to a group so outstanding in excellence but, in fact, Philo will conclude this treatise by being far from moderate, that is, by claiming that this contemplative group he will use as his example has reached the pinnacle of religious virtue and happiness. The Essenes excel in most departments of virtue, but those he now describes appear superior to them. They seem to be his absolute, undiluted

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ideal. Why should writing about them be so difficult? Is their virtue inexpressible? Philo indicates as much: they appear just too good to be true, and yet the truth of their goodness must be told, even though one might be so astounded by it that it would exhaust most eloquent orators. From professing moderation in terms of the description of the Essenes, Philo expresses utter wonderment in the face of the people he now describes. That speakers may be rendered speechless may also indicate embarrassment, or fear of inciting an audience who would scoff at the accuracy of what is mentioned. Philo may well be insisting on veracity to counter any accusation that he is making things up (cf. Taylor 2003, 8–9). One must struggle and strive nevertheless This is placed quite baldly in the text as a kind of maxim made up of two alliterative adjectives (διαθλητέον … καὶ διαγωνιστέον). Despite the difficulties of his task, it would be wrong to decline the challenge of writing about them, just as one might be accused of cowardice for refusing to engage in an athletic competition. The words here are those used for athletic contests. Philo’s treatise will be marked by considerable use of rhetorical devices, but here he insists he will (so he claims) keep completely to the truth. for the extraordinary virtue of these men Philo writes literally of “men” (ἄνδρες), However, in the very next section he emphasizes that women are included in their number. He could have chosen to use the inclusive term “people,” “human beings” (ἅνθρωποι), so the use of the word “men” (ἄνδρες) is quite striking. As Kraemer (1989; 1994, 134–135) has well noted, both sexes in Contempl. are associated with “manliness” or “manly courage” (ἀνδρεία), a key Stoic virtue (Latin: virtus, see Cicero, Tusc. 2.43, 53), so the use of ἄνδρες here may be meant to indicate that these are persons exhibiting “manliness,” even women. The imagery that Philo develops here is of a masculinity of soul that will be contrasted in § 60 with the effeminate— degenerate/erotic—soul, designated as άνδρόγυνος. The term “men” also may relate back to Apion’s charge against the Jews that they produced no “admirable men (θαυμαστοὺς ἄνδρας) … in the likes of Socrates, Zeno and Cleanthes” (C. Ap. 2.135, 148; see Introduction pp. 6–8). The use of the designation “men” then links with andreia (see Gleason 1995). The virtue of andreia is important to Philo, and is specifically addressed at length in Virt. 1–50, where Philo’s notion of what it constitutes is explained with reference to Scripture. Philo contrasts the apparent courage and boldness of strong men in battle, slaying their foe and attaining glory, with true ἀνδρεία shown by “those who study and practice wisdom.” Those who prac-

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tice wisdom can paradoxically be exemplified by weak, often old, people who stay indoors, and yet who—inspired by brave fortitude of mind (and not even in their dreams meddling with weaponry, cf. Prob. 78 on the Essenes)—can provide wise counsels for both private and communal advantage (Virt. 1–4). Manly virtue was indeed what every young man should aspire to in philosophy. In Plutarch’s treatise “On Listening to Lectures” (De recta ratione audiendi 37– 39; see Larsen 2016), philosophy “alone can place around the young men the manly and truly perfect adornment that comes from reason.” Given this model of “manly virtue,” the term ἄνδρες, “men,” may be used as a device to emphasize that even the women can be considered in this category. The group encompasses members of both sexes exhibiting manly virtue (contra Taylor 2003, 15, “males, not people”). The word ἄνδρες, “men,” is therefore appropriate for the whole group, and is a word quite frequently repeated, but in different ways: in §§14 2× (of Anaxagoras and Democritus), §29 (regarding writings of men of old), §49 (craftsmen), §57 (of Xenophon and Plato), §§ 59 3× (men as males), § 69 (men as males), §78 (men as the whole group), § 83 (men as males), § 87 2× (men as males) and §88 (men as males). In § 78, therefore, the same use of ἄνδρες for the whole group occurs and it is probably not correct to see this as accidental given Philo’s insistence on women’s inclusion. must not become a cause of speechlessness for those who consider it right that nothing good should be kept in silence For a similar justification, see Opif. 4: “They must not on this account be kept in silence.” There is an emphasis on speech in this opening section, with repeated use of language that indicates something spoken aloud to an audience that might also not be spoken: “Having discussed … to speak … I will now also say … the most capable speaker … a cause of speechlessness … kept in silence.” The imagery suggests a man addressing a crowd in order to convince them of a philosophical point: here the truth of the virtue of his group as an exemplar of the ideal contemplative life. Philo’s emphasis on the factuality and integrity of his account suggests that he knows that some of his hearers may be, or actually are, sceptical of the excellence of such people, and he feels inadequate to the task of convincing them. He can only tell the truth and hope for the best, though many would be struck dumb in the face of his task. This orality is found indicated elsewhere in the treatise, for example is §73, where he anticipates the audience laughing. In terms of the orality of this opening, the rhythm is strongly felt when reading this section aloud. Philo repeats words beginning with δια- (διαλεχθείς, διεπόνησαν, δiενεγκόντες, διαθλητέον, διαγωνιστέον) which function along with oth-

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ers beginning with δ alliteratively to add emphasis to his final word: δικαιοῦσιν. The assonance of ἀνδρῶν ἀρετῆς αἴτιον ἀφωνίας may also be noted. This awareness of the sound of the spoken word, dare one say “poetry,” at once slightly undermines Philo’s insistence of artlessness in what he will say. It is important that Philo seems to assume that his hearers will have had no contact with the group he is about to describe, and yet the city of Alexandria lies on the Mareotic Lake where he will say the people in question also live. As noted in the Introduction (pp. 6–7), this is one of the indications in the treatise that his audience is conceptualized as being far from his own vicinity. (§2) The practice of these philosophers is shown at once by their designation The word προαίρεσις appears eight times in Ecclesiastes (LXX) to mean “waywardness,” as in the fixed phrase “waywardness of spirit” (RSV “striving after wind”: 1:14, 17; 2:11, 17, 26; 4: 4, 16; 6:9), and so connotes choosing to pursue vanity or folly. However, this is not how Philo uses this word. Philo uses the term 39 times, including six times in Contempl. (§§2, 17, 29, 32, 67, 79), in an entirely different way. It may be that this could be translated as “choice” or “purpose,” as Colson (PLCL 9:518–519) notes, making προαίρεσις then much the same as αἵρεσις, “choice,” “school of thought” (for which see Runia 1999a), but in Legatio it refers to Gaius’s “practice in life” (§114), the practices of the Jews of Palestine (§230), and the actual policy of Augustus regarding the Jews (§§ 316; 321). It does not have a pejorative connotation and in Contempl. appears to be used very positively to define the vocation (Colson, PLCL 9:113, followed by Taylor 2003, 349) or practice of the philosophers, a philosophical set of principles that is put into actions that are demonstrated by the name they are called, θεραπευταί: they heal souls and minister to God. In the translations of Hay (2013, 2491) it is translated as “commitment.” That these are a group of φιλόσοφοι is important to Philo, given his sense of what true philosophy entails. This identification of his examples as philosophers is repeated throughout the discourse: they are motivated toward philosophy (§16), they dream of philosophy (§26), they are trained in philosophy (§ 69), they live a life of philosophy (§89), interpret their inherited philosophy (§ 67) led by Wisdom (§§19, 35, 68). In Philo’s thought, Judaism was itself the quintessential true philosophy (and for the concept and context of philosophia within the work of Jewish authors writing in Greek and pagan writers, see Mason 1993; 1996; Runia 1999a; Taylor 2003, 105–125). Moses was the greatest of all philosophers, who was illuminated with perfect knowledge on Sinai (Leg. 3.97–101; Mos. 1.21–24, 2.2), thus someone who follows Moses is a lover of Wisdom (Her. 102; Sacr. 65; Congr. 114): a φιλοσόφος. As Nikiprowetsky (1963; 1977, 97–116) has identified—on the basis of such passages as Mos. 2.215–216; Decal. 98–101; Spec.

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2.62–64 and Hypoth. 7.10–14—for Philo φιλοσοφία concerns studying and interpreting the Mosaic “philosophy,” the law. But this should not be understood in a narrow, legalistic sense. Runia (2001, 297) notes that Philo’s concept is based on the Stoic notion that philosophy is “the art of life” (Plutarch, Quaest. conv. 613b, and for a wide survey of the understanding of the term see Malingrey 1961). For the translation designation, for πρόσρησις, see LSJ 1525. they are appropriately called “ministers” (Therapeutae), male and female The word ἐτύμως is translated literally by Colson as “in accordance with the meaning of the word from which the name is derived,” i.e., θεραπεύω (PLCL 9: 114, n. a; 512), rather than “truly” (see LSJ 704). Colson asserts that the word always has etymological associations in Philo, and notes elsewhere that it means “in accordance with the derivation” of that name (PLCL 9:556, regarding Conf. 137). However, while appropriate or accurate word-derivation and association is probably implied in the way Philo uses this word, it is in all other cases most simply translated into straightforward English as “accurately,” “properly,” or “appropriately” (Opif. 36, 126, 127, 133; Conf. 137; Somn. 2.174; Mos. 1.17, 130; 2.105, 149; Decal. 160; Spec. 1.88, 93, 147, 183, 329; 2.188; Aet. 54). Nevertheless, the embedded sense of ἐτύμως has etymological associations since Philo discusses the meaning of the word in what follows. The term as used in Opif. 36 implies correct etymology (Runia 2001, 175, and see Colson’s remarks regarding Prob. 73 [PLCL 9:512], though he slightly overstates the case). It was a particular concern for Stoics to have fitting words based on correct etymology; Diogenes Laertius notes there were five excellences of language: pure Greek, lucidity, conciseness, appropriateness and distinction (Lives 7.59). But a reader might well wonder what Philo means by saying that the vocation of those he describes is plain at once from their name—since he proceeds to give two different interpretations. ministers, male and female, translates θεραπευταί … και θεραπευτρίδες (for discussion, see Introduction pp. 51–57). This is a striking employment of both the masculine and the feminine forms, right after the use of ἀνδρῶν, “men.” As noted, for various reasons, there are difficulties in translating the word appropriately, with the two genders so markedly given, and it is common to use the Latinized form Therapeutae as gender inclusive, or to leave the terms in Greek (PLCL 9:115; Yonge 1854, 311; Graffigna 1992, 35; Daumas and Miquel 1963, 79). Conybeare (1894, 755), however, translates the reference as “healers, male and female,” with a note stating that the Greek means both “healers” and “worshippers.” In translating “healers” he retains for a modern English-speaking audience one aspect of the Greek meaning, which most obviously relates to

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medical therapy or treatment, and indeed this meaning of the Greek word θεραπεία has entered our language as “therapy,” but for the sense of “serve God” see Eusebius, Hist. eccles. 2.17.3. Conybeare’s interpretation of the other meaning as “worshippers” may be refined further, since further material from inscriptions and papyri, as well as Philo’s own usage, indicates that we should understand the term to relate to those who worshipfully minister to a god or gods in a cultic setting as special devotees dedicated to service. This does not easily translate into one single English word, but “ministers” carries something of this sense, while lending itself to the word-play Philo will engage with in this section. In line with Conybeare, the gender of the two words is indicated by “male and female.” either insofar as they command a medical art better than that of cities— for that art ministers to bodies alone, but this one indeed ministers to souls conquered by both difficult and intractable diseases Here the souls of people are sick: κεκρατημένας is the Perfect middle participle, “having been conquered” by diseases; the treatment is not prophylactic but a remedy for sickness. The “ministers” treat those who are sick by philosophy. Stirling (2015, 282–284) notes that Philo identifies in various places that there are morally sick people, though at a certain point they can become “untreatable”, ἀθεράπευτος (see below, Contempl. 10). In terms of ἰατρικὴν ἐπαγγέλλονται, “command a medical art/skill,” ἰατρική is not found in the feminine form in LSJ or BDAG and is listed as masculine ἰατρικός in BFS 175, but Philo consistently uses the feminine form in his writings to designate “medical skill” or “medical art” (Leg. 1.59; 3.178; Det. 43; Deus 87; Ebr. 184; Conf. 187; Migr. 219; Her. 297; Mut. 122; Decal. 12; Legat. 106, “Apollo’s art of medicine”; Prov. 2.18) and the masculine noun ἰατρικής for “physician” (Somn. 1.251; Ios. 75; Agr. 40; Prov. 71) and only uses the common form ἰατρικός in one extant instance (Prov. 2.61; cf. QG 4.76; LSJ 816). The verb ἐπαγγέλλονται is usually translated as “profess” (e.g., PLCL 9:115), but the middle form is appropriately translated as “command” (so LSJ 602) in the sense that they command or claim an accomplished craft or skill (BDAG 356, 2, cf. Virt. 54). To translate ἰατρική as “art of healing” as does Winston (1981, 42) might be a little confusing given that θεραπεῖα means “healing/ministry,” though he rightly notes that “soul therapy” begins with philosophy’s medical treatment during the third stage of life (Her. 299), a point worth noting also regarding § 18, where the “ministers” of God give up property that they have acquired, meaning they are not youths, and indeed the women are defined as “mostly aged” (§ 68). As noted above, it is clear that Philo plays with the difference between the soul/spiritual therapy offered by those called θεραπευταί and θεραπευτρί-

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δες versus the inferior medical treatment offered by physicians in cities. The notion of the “city” being a negative construction appears here. The implication (which will be confirmed later, §19) is that the contemplative philosophers are not within the city or using the practices current in the city (see Taylor 2003, 40–41). The medical skill associated with cities is only concerned with treatment of the body, the treatment of the soul is neglected. The primary meaning of the verb θεραπεύω is “serve, attend to, minister to, look after, care for” (LSJ 792–793), which in a religious sphere can indicate devout worship, but it can also indicate care of the sick and healing. Colson’s translation, being “either in the sense of “cure” because they profess the art of healing better than that current in the cities which cures only the bodies” (PLCL 9:115), is not quite right in suggesting that either the philosophers or the physicians always cure by the treatments they employ. In accordance with Philo’s general usage elsewhere, it is appropriate to translate his two uses of θεραπεύω here “minister to” (see Introduction, pp. 51–57). However, there are different objects implied in these two meanings: in the first place the objects are souls who are ill, while in the second the object is Being, God. Note also that in the first instance, there is a distinction made between the physicians of the city who only provide therapy to bodies, and the contemplative philosophers’ treatment which is administered to souls; to translate καί here as “also” would include physical treatment of illnesses but this is not otherwise what the Therapeutae do, and so it is translated emphatically as “indeed” (LSJ 857–858); the colloquial “really” would in some ways be better. The concept of there being a spiritual remedy given by means of the practice of philosophy is found elsewhere in Philo’s work. A diseased soul is one subject to all kinds of passions (including despair, Plant. 72), vices and cravings (Her. 223; Congr. 53; Ios. 10). Philo employs the same language of philosophers who heal the soul in Prov. 2.17–20. Philo states that God gives spiritual healing to all his suppliants and ministers (θεραπευταί) and asks them to employ it to heal those whose souls have been wounded by folly, injustice and vices (Migr. 124). The minister of God has sown eternal freedom and will change and heal (Sacr. 127). The term θεραπεία is a general way Philo commends Wisdom’s effects on the soul; therefore anyone who truly follows the path of wisdom and imparts this wisdom to others may be said to “treat” the condition of diseased souls, with the ultimate source of healing power being God. We are not in the world of technical vocabulary regarding only one group of “soul healers,” but in the world of Philo’s imagery about the effects of God’s true Wisdom on the human soul. The notion of philosophy itself being a form of healing is found quite widely in Graeco-Roman literature, for example in Seneca, Epistula morales 40, philo-

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sophy has “the purpose of healing our minds.” In Plutarch, Rect. rat. aud. 16 [46e–47a], the “word” of philosophy stings as well as heals. souls which pleasures, desires, sorrows and fears, covetous, senseless and wrongful acts and the unending multitude of the other passions and evils have afflicted There is now an aside, explaining what is meant, in terms of what conquers the soul and makes it unwell. The affect of the passions and evil actions on the soul is here put in brackets to break up a very long aside within the sentence. Curiously, ἐγκατέσκηψαν is suggested by C-W and Colson (PLCL 9:114, n. 1) for the manuscript reading of κατέσκηψαν (though Conybeare retains it, as also Graffigna 1992, 34), stating that examples of the simple verb and “almost all” cited in Stephanus’s dictionary are intransitive. The emendation is a little perplexing as the examples of κατασκήπτω in LSJ 912 are mainly transitive, and at any rate this verb is a 3rd person Aorist indicative active, though it is generally translated as if it is passive, for no good reason. The Aorist, 3rd person plural κατέσκηψαν, “fell upon,” “afflicted” or “attacked,” has as its subject the list of passions and evils (in the nominative plural): they are the active agents that “afflict” souls, as indicated by the relative pronoun ἅς (though in manuscript A and the Armenian version this is found as αἷς, referring back to νόσοις, a feminine noun despite its apparently masculine ending); Graffigna (1992, 34) opts for this, relating to “diseases,” translating: “mali che furono originati da piaceri e desideri …”: “evils that were originated from pleasures and desires …” (i.e., translating κατέσκηψαν as passive, and with a quite distinctive sense). If one wished to follow the emendation of ἐγκατέσκηψαν in C-W, it is clear that elsewhere in Philo’s corpus the verb ἐγκατασκήπτω has as its object the word “disease,” in that bad things “inflict disease” (Det. 178; Ebr. 140), but ἐγκατασκήπτω has the sense of a sudden attack, for example of epidemics that afflict people (LSJ 475), but it is not particularly different to κατασκήπτω. The list of four cardinal passions of pleasure, desire, sorrow and fear given here (see Ebr. 98; Praem. 15; Prob. 159), with the addition of vices, is similar to other standard lists (BDAG 824, πλεονεξία), and had the same widespread currency as the “seven deadly sins” today. Philo wrote an entire treatise on the four passions (Leg. 3.130), but this is now lost. The passions are essentially emotions, much studied of late in discussions of Hellenistic philosophy (see Nussbaum 1994; Sihvola and Engberg-Pedersen 1998; Sorabji 2000; Krentz 2008) and in regard to Philo (Lévy 2006; Winston 2008). The problem of the passions is spelt out in Decal. 142–153: reflecting on the tenth commandment of Exod 20:1– 17 and Deut 5:4–21, Philo observes that it is directed against desire (ἐπιθυμία),

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because the passions of the soul shake it out of good health (Decal. 142). The passions emphasized here are pleasure (ἡδονή), sorrow (λυπή) and fear (φόβος) that injure the soul, and only philosophy can cure this, like a good physician (ἰατρός) (Decal. 150). A very negative view of the passions is found discussed at length in Spec. 4.79–91 (cf. Leg. 3.185–187): passions are morally blameworthy (ἐπίληπτον). The concept of a soul being diseased by passions/emotions derives from Stoicism, in which the passions are against Nature (Rabel 1981). For Philo too they lead to diseases and infirmities of the soul (Sacr. 31; Det. 44; Post. 46–47; Deus 67–68; Migr. 155; Her. 284; Abr. 223; Ios. 10; Spec. 1.257; Virt. 162; Praem. 145; Prov. 2.18), and are unnatural and distorting (Mos. 2.139). The sage should remove the spirited parts of the soul, the passions, as unnecessary and an impediment for perfect happiness (Leg. 2.50–52, 99–104, 3.131, 139–140; Migr. 67; Prov. 156, 166; cf. Agr. 123); resulting in a purification (Abr. 217–224). Otherwise they will lead directly to vices, wrongful actions (Sacr. 32; Decal. 150– 153; Spec. 4.86–91), and eventually to the soul’s death (Post. 73–74). In Migr. 124 God the Saviour (or “Curer”) “extends his all-healing remedy (φάρμακον), his merciful power, to his suppliant and minister, to use for the cure (σωτηρίαν) of the sick,” spreading it out like ointment on the wounds of the soul, to heal the damage from “senseless and wrongful acts and all of the throng of evils” (ἀφροσύναι καὶ ἀδικίαι καὶ ὁ ἄλλος τῶν κακιῶν ὅμιλος). The one who is in fact the “suppliant” (ἱκέτης) and “minister” (θεραπευτής) is defined as “a righteous person in the category of human beings” (ἐν τῷ γένει τῶν ἀνθρώπων τὸν δίκαιον). There may be an implicit reference to the contrasting example of Chaeremon’s Egyptian priests here, since Chaeremon stated, according to Porphyry (Abst. 4.6.4): that to be always in contact with divine knowledge and inspiration puts them beyond all kinds of greediness, restrains the passions, and makes them live a life of understanding. or else because they have been schooled from Nature and the sacred laws As Nikiprowetsky (1977, 117–155) and Niehoff (2001, 147–165) have explored, in many Philonic writings the laws of Moses are the highest principles of the law of Nature (Opif. 3; QE 11.59). Moses interpreted Nature, φύσις (Her. 213), which through the Logos governs the world (Ios. 28–31). Mosaic laws are the true image of the constitution of the Universe (Mos. 2.51) and in following them you follow the laws of Nature (Mos. 2.211). To live a life of virtue is to then live according to Nature (Mos. 2. 181; Abr. 60; Spec. 1.155; 4.204; and see Agr. 66; Plant. 49; Ebr. 142; Decal. 132; Virt. 131–132). Mosaic law is that part of the laws of Nature that particularly concern human society and ethics, so these two things are not coterminal (see Runia 2001, 106–107). This mention of Nature ties the

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beginning of the treatise with the ending: in Contempl. 90 the Therapeutae are precisely those who contemplate Nature. Those who are “schooled from … the sacred laws,” ἐκ … τῶν ἱερῶν νόμων ἐπαιδεύθησαν, are surely Jews, even though the laws are not specifically defined here as being those of Moses, the laws governing Jews. Since we do not know what precisely has just been said regarding the Essenes, Philo may well be following on from language he has used in the foregoing piece, in which case this reference would have been immediately obvious to the audience. Mention of such laws firmly signals to the audience that there is a group of people who follow sacred laws distinctively, namely Jews. to minister to Being, which is better than [the] Good, purer than [the] One, and more ancient than [the] Monad. The verb θεραπεύω (see above) is repeated here, creating a strong emphasis. The concluding sentence of §2 is almost like a creed, and Philo likewise writes in Praem. 40 of God being “better than a Good and more ancient than a Monad, purer than a One” (Colson, PLCL 9:115, b). The use of the indefinite here seems purposeful in rendering the notions of the One and Monad exactly that: they are inferior to the reality that is God, so the definite article is only supplied in brackets. The object of the ministry is τὸ ὄν in the Greek manuscripts but τὸ ὄντως ὄν is suggested by the Armenian, supported by Conybeare, and see Spec. 4.192 where the expression τὸ ὄντως ὄν is found regarding the true priest, who is a prophet, concerned with “the ministry to the existent Being” (τὴν τοῦ ὄντως ὄντος θεραπείαν) through virtue rather than by birth. The terms Philo uses for God are based on both contemporary Stoicism “that which is” (τὸ ὄν), and Exodus 3:14 and Deut 32:39 (LXX), or “he who is” (ὁ ὤν), and are variously translated, for example “the Existent” (Colson, Runia), “Being” (Conybeare), “living God” (Yonge), L’Essere (Graffigna), L’Être (Daumas and Miquel). For this terminology, see also Opif. 172; Leg. 3.181; Cher. 27; Det. 140, 160; Post. 167; Deus 11, 110, 162; Ebr. 83; Her. 70, 166; Congr. 51; Mut. 11, 21; Migr. 34; Somn. 1.231; Abr. 121; Legat. 6; QE 2.68. In Leg. 2.3 Philo identifies slightly differently that “God has been ranked according to the One and the Monad” (note use of definite articles where in Praem. and Contempl. there are none) “but rather the Monad has been ranked according to the one God, for all number is newer than the universe, as also is time, for God, indeed the creator, is more ancient than the universe.” He is both One and All (Leg. 1.11). This is a clear allusion to contemporary philosophical debate about the generation of the material universe. The idea is that all things derive from an initial One (Monad), but Philo makes a distinction between the Monad and the One and sees God as transcending both (Praem. 40; Legat.

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5–6). The emphasis placed by the Pythagoreans on number is described in Aristotle’s Metaphysics (985b23–986a3, cf. 1090a20–29). The number One is the original basis of all subsequent generations of numbers, which lie behind the universe (Metaph. 986a15–21; cf. 987a 15; Phys 203a10). Diogenes Laertius, quoting the first-century Succession of the Philosophers by Alexander Polyhistor, writes (Lives 8.1): The origin of all things is the Monad, and from this Monad comes the undefined Dyad which serves as the matter to the Monad, from the Monad and the undefined Dyad come numbers … Philo could also argue for the superiority of the Monad (QG 4.110). As Runia (2005, 2007) has presented, it is not impossible to see a rumination here on the first hypothesis of Plato’s Parmenides (142c–144e, cf. Resp. 7.518c)—but more so the Timaeus (see Runia 1986). Philo here seems to be reflecting current debates in Platonic and Neopythagorean circles. While in Leg. Philo appears to equate the One with God, in both Praem. and Contempl. the Monad or One are inferior to God (as Being itself). In Spec. 1.176 Philo writes that the Monad is the “incorporeal image of God,” ἀσώματος θεοῦ εἰκών, resembling God, but it is not equated with God. Philo asserts here also that God is better than a “Good,” a comment he makes also in Opif. 8. “the absolutely pure and unadulterated intellect of the universe, superior to excellence and superior to knowledge and even superior to the good and the beautiful itself,” and in Legat. 5: “the primal good and Beautiful and Felicitous and Blessed, indeed if the truth be told, that which is superior to the good, more beautiful than the beautiful, more blessed than blessedness, more felicitous than well-being itself and whatever is more perfect than what has been mentioned,” as well as in QG 2.44. “He is beyond blessedness itself and well-being and whatever is more excellent and better than these” (translations in Runia 2007). This linkage of ideas with the primal entity of the universe does not conflate Plato’s good “Maker” or “Demiurge” (Tim. 29b, cf. Resp. 6) with the Mosaic God, namely Being. For further, see Graffigna 1992, 96–101.

B

Poor Examples §§3–10

From briefly describing the object of the Therapeutae’s devotion, Nature, Philo immediately passes on to what may be understood as a humorously ironic account of certain objects of Graeco-Egyptian cultic devotion. Philo begins as he means to go on, by flatly denouncing all those who are engaged in various

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practices of religious folly, showing themselves not to be “ministers” of things divine at all, but grossly in error. They are poor examples of a life of virtue, since the foundation of their devotion is wrong. The general implication of §§3–10 is that to serve such entities is ridiculous by comparison with those who truly serve Being. Philo creates a parody of anyone who would claim to be like the people he is going to describe. It is to be noted that the reasons Philo gives for rejecting forms of Graeco-Egyptian cultic service include a series of positive statements about the true God (§§ 4– 6). §§3–10 is linked closely to §2 since there the second explanation of the name of the group is explicated by reference to its opposite: the true ministers of God are contrasted with those who serve inferior and quite laughable things, who are configured as a kind of “anti-Therapeutae” type. §§ 11–12 rounds off this exploration of the opposite by emphasizing the true ministers’ focus on seeking the vision of Being, which explains their perfect happiness and rapturous ecstasy akin to that of Bacchus-worshippers or Corybants. The five varieties of service made in a cultic context may be summarized as follows:

§§

Those who serve

Further details

This is ridiculous because

3–4 the elements: fire air, water, earth

Hephaestus, Hera, Poseidon and Demeter (name puns)

inventers of the names the elements are of these gods are soph- inanimate matter ists created by God as a basis for forms

5

the sun, moon, planets, fixed stars—sky and kosmos (adornment)

implies “astrological” they are made from cult, venerating the elements, by astral deities along Maker, not self-made with constellations of fixed stars

these were made by God, in perfect knowledge, as part of creation

6

demi-gods

implies Dionysus, Hercules, and the Dioscuri

true heavenly powers are blissful and divine and exempt from every passion

they cannot be mortal and immortal; divine beings are sexually promiscuous?

The true nature of these objects

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(cont.)

§§

Those who serve

Further details

This is ridiculous because

The true nature of these objects

7

images of gods made in wood and stone

gods in general in the form of statues

related pieces of wood and stone are used for dark, dishonourable, body-serving purposes.

statues are just wood and stone; God is creator of wood and stone

lions, crocodiles, hawks and ibises, among many others.

they reproduce, need food, produce excrement, poison and kill, suffer illness and death

humans are God’s kin, civilized, reasonable, natural rulers over animals (Gen 1:26)

8–9 Egyptian animal gods, both tame and savage

Detailed Comments (§3) To which of those professing piety is it right to compare these people? The example here is “those professing piety” (τῶν ἐπαγγελλομένων εὐσέβειαν), who will be a foil to the better example that Philo will provide. The focus point is εὐσέβεια, “piety,” rather than ἀρετή, “virtue,” because for Philo piety is the source of all the virtues (Decal. 52); piety is virtue’s “sister and twin” (Virt. 51; see Sterling 2006; Wilson 2010, 161–162). Philo will return to identifying piety as the key focus of the Therapeutae in §88: “the purpose of the thoughts and the words and the choristers is piety.” Following the previous paragraph, “these” (τίνας) must refer back to the contemplative philosophers who represent the highest attainment of Judaism in terms of their service of Being. Possibly the castigation of those who serve cultically in Graeco-Egyptian religion in §§3–10 is a kind of set piece, one that might have been composed by Philo to use on any occasion that seemed to call for denouncing non-Mosaic religious devotions in support of the second commandment (Exod 20:4–5; Deut 5:8–9, and see Wis 13–14). We find the same abbreviated rejection of various forms of worship in Spec. 2.255, in this case in a diatribe against apostates, who deny God and revere: (i.) the elements: earth, water, air and fire, (ii.) the sun, moon, planets and stars, the whole sky and its adornment, (iii.) works of mortal craftsmen formed in human shape; see a full treatment of the subject in Decal. 54–81 (and see Sandelin 1991; Niehoff 1998).

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What about to those who revere the elements: earth, water, air, fire—to which others have also put other names The first group of misguided devotees are those who venerate the elements. The verb τιμάω has a wide meaning founded on the notion of giving honour to someone, with τιμή, “honour” (cf. §8), meaning also a gift of honour, the word used for an offering to the gods. This issue here that Philo addresses is whether any object other than God is worthy of the honour paid. In the phrasing οἷς καὶ ἐπωνυμίας ἔθεντο ἐτέρας ἕτεροι—the rhythm and assonance (with its repeating epsilons) of this phrasing is neat, but it does not make for entirely straightforward translation: thus “things to which some have attached one surname, others another” (Conybeare); “which have received different names from different peoples” (Colson); “to whom different nations have given different names” (Yonge). The sense is that the elements are revered via the names of certain gods, thus those who worship such gods are in fact worshipping the elements. Philo also notes in Decal. 52–57 that the elements have been deified, as well as the sun, moon, planets and stars, so that some call the earth Korē or Pluto, and the sea (water) Poseidon, the air Hera and the fire Hephaestus. Reference to worshipping the elements is made in 2 Enoch 16:7 and Testament of Solomon 8:1–2 (cf. Wis 13:1–2, on this see Winston 1979, 250). Later Christian apologists assail the veneration of the στοιχεῖα, the elements, with which certain gods were identified (e.g., Aristides, Apol. 3–7; Athenagoras, Leg. 2; Clement of Alexandria, Protr. 6). Chaeremon, in his treatise on the Egyptian priests, presents them as worshipping the elements as part of the cultic devotions of Serapis: “Among the elements, water and fire are the most honoured because they are the most responsible for our security; and this too they show in the rites, for even now, when [the temple of] holy Sarapis is opened, worship takes place with fire and water, and the hymnsinger makes a libation of the water and displays the fire when, standing on the threshold, he awakens the god in the ancestral speech of the Egyptians” (Porphyry, Abst. 4.9.5, trans. Clark 2000, 106). calling fire Hephaestus, because of the kindling (exapsin), I believe, and the air Hera because the lifting (hairesthai) and raising up on high, and water Poseidon perhaps because of the drink (poton), and the earth Demeter, insofar as she appears to be mother (meter) of all plants and animals. An identification of deities and elements, or mixed elements, was probably current in the Stoic circles Philo knew; Athenagoras (Leg. 22) notes that the Stoics make Zeus fire, Hera air, Poseidon water, while Empedocles has Zeus as fire, Hera as earth, Aidoneus as air and Nestis as water. Diogenes Laertius (Lives 7.147) records that the Stoics define intrinsic etymologies that would not only

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relate Hera to air, Hephaestus to fire, Poseidon to water and Demeter to earth (as here in Contempl.), but also Zeus to the life-force (with his name apparently coming from ζῆν, “life”) and Athena to primal aether (αἰθέρα). This worship of the elements identified by Philo appears to be the result of allegorical interpretation which rationalized the veneration of traditional deities in the light of theories of physics. Tatian dismisses the 5th cent. BCE philosopher Metrodorus of Lampsacus (the Elder) (cf. Plato, Ion 2) who “argued very foolishly in his treatise concerning Homer, turning everything into allegory. For he says that neither Hera, nor Athena, nor Zeus are what people, who consecrate to them sacred enclosures and groves, presume them to be, but are parts of nature and certain arrangements of the elements” (Tatian, Or. Graec. 21.3). In other words, there was no temple to the elements as such, but simply the worship of Hephaestus, Hera, Poseidon or Demeter, among numerous other possible deities identified with the fire, air, water or earth. Plutarch (Is. Os. 40/367c) notes in relation to “the doctrines promulgated by the Stoics about the gods” that the forces that shape the elements into forms are also named: the creative and maintaining spirit being Dionysus, the angry and destructive being Heracles, the receptive Ammon. Here “that which pervades the Earth and its products is Demeter and the Daughter (Korē), and that which pervades the Sea is Poseidon.” Plutarch notes that Chronos is considered to be “time,” Hera is air, Hephaestus is fire and “such men among the Egyptians say that Osiris is the Nile which consorts with the Earth, Isis, and that the sea is Typhon into which the Nile discharges its waters, and is lost to view and dissipated” (Is. Os. 32/363e), though the Egyptian references are not so much to elements but to the actual land and water. For the gods as elements see also: Cornutus, Nat. d. 3, 4, 19, 28; Cicero, Nat. d. 1.15; 2.25, 26, 28; Diodorus Siculus, Bibl. 1.12; Sextus Empiricus, Pyrrhon. 3.118 (Conybeare 1895, 195; Winston 1981, 315–316). The equation of air with Hera also made by Plato (Crat. 404c). Philo’s invective is really about the people who undertake practices of cultic reverence to honour certain gods while promoting what seems to be a largely Stoic notion that they are honouring in fact the elements by this means. Though the doctrine of the four elements is traced back to Empedocles (Simplicius, Physics, 157–159), he does not refer to them as “elements” but rather “roots” (Sextus Empiricus, Math. 10.315; see Burnet 1961, 205, 228–230; Jaeger 1947, 137–138). Plato defines the elements as being entirely used up by the Maker in his creation of the physical world, and links them with the four geometrical solids (Tim. 32d, 48b–c, 52d–61c). The elements constitute all things by means of attraction (love) and repulsion (strife) (Simplicius, Physics, 31–34). In Opif. 131 Philo clearly alludes to this well-established philosophical doctrine to explain the nature of the physical universe (see Runia 2001, 316) and speaks

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elsewhere of human beings, like the world generally, being composed of these four elements, though he says the human soul is formed from a fifth superior substance (Her. 282–283; cf. 134–140; Aet. 107), this being an Aristotelian doctrine which surfaces in Ptolemy, Tetrabiblos 1.2. Philo believes Moses accepted that the world was created out of the elements (Migr. 180), and sees them being rightly honoured in Jerusalem temple worship (Her. 226–229). Philo accepts the elements, but not their apparent deification and the cultic honours paid to the gods with which they are identified. Those who dedicate themselves in service to such are in error, and cannot then be compared with the true ministers of God. In regard to identifying the elements with deities, Philo uses terms suggesting uncertainty (οἷμαι, τάξα που) about the particular identifications, but this is perhaps a rhetorical ploy, creating a tone of being rather lightly off-hand about these identifications, detaching himself from such associations. The tone throughout appears to be one of poking fun. (§4) But the names are inventions of sophists Philo says that these divine names were assigned to the elements by “sophists,” a term that for him can have a pejorative force, in indicating rhetorical ability devoid of true wisdom (e.g., Agr. 143, 159, 162; Congr. 64; Fug. 211; Her. 246; Det. 41–42, 72, see S. Adams 2017; 2018, 55). Winter and van Kooten tend to associate such sophists with the Second Sophistic (Winter 1997, 60–112; van Kooten 2008). However, this is rejected by Koskenniemi (2013) and Wyss (2012; 2017; 2019, 101–105). Philo refers to a “throng” of sophists (Agr. 136; Post. 101), a large group, probably in much demand as teachers to young people (see P. Oxy. 18.2190; Winter 1997, 19–39; 68–71). They are not the elite philosophers of the well-known stories (see Flavius Philostratus’ Vitae sophistarum), but rather as teachers they would be from the slightly lower strata of society, yet they are Stoic in their philosophy, as indicated here and in Migr. 171. Wyss (2019, 101) notes that Philo is actually in a constant battle with these “sophists”. They will turn up again in §31, linked with “the orators”. The implication seems to be that these sophists deluded ordinary people; they are the equivalent of the “myth-makers” of Decal. 54. Thus, what Philo writes in Contempl. 3–4 is aimed at those Stoic “sophists” who rationalized cultic reverence into the veneration of naturally-observable forces and entities, as much as those who served the gods cultically. Those who dedicate themselves in service to such are in error, and cannot then be compared with the true ministers of God. Since Philo accepted that all of the material world is made up of four elements—earth, water, air and fire—the folly of these people is that they do not recognize they are worshipping something of the created order rather than the Creator.

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the elements are inanimate matter, and matter is unmoving of itself, underlaid for the Craftsman for all forms of shapes and qualities. The elements are simply the basic substance lying under material reality: ὑποβεβλημένη, means “having been put under” (ὑποβάλλω, LSJ 1879), thus “underlaid.” They are the constituting material. Philo says directly what is wrong with the worship of such elements, and by implication the gods with whom they are associated. They are passive, without life or ability to initiate motion. They are merely the “stuff” used by a Craftsman creator, who impressed on them shapes and forms. Philo’s phrasing suggests the Platonic theory of a Demiurge or Maker (see §5) stamping on formless matter the patterns presented by the eternal Ideas, most clearly defined in Plato’s Timaeus. Here Philo uses the term τεχνίτης, which has a general sense of “craftsman.” In other treatises Philo freely applies both τεχνίτης (Opif. 20, 67, 135; Leg. 1.18; Aet. 8) and δημιουργός (“Demiurge,” “Maker,” Opif. 10, 18, 36, 171; Leg. 1.77; Aet. 13) to God as Creator (see Bos 2003; on the general issues of creation and Philo’s relation to the Timaeus, see Dillon 2005; Wolfson 1968, I, 300–316; Winston 1981, 7–13; Runia 1986, 131– 176; 2003, 2007). The term “inanimate matter” (ἄψυχος ὕλη) is one that Philo uses elsewhere to speak of matter that constitutes everything, but this should not be worshipped (e.g., Decal. 76; Leg. 1.6). In Det. 8, for example, temples themselves, like human bodies, are made of “inanimate matter.” Idolatry is misguided; idols made with human hands say nothing, do nothing, hear nothing, have no breath (LXX Ps 134.15–18; Wis 13–15, cf. Decal. 52–54; Spec. 1.13–14; Congr. 133; see PLCL 9:519; Graffigna 1992, 101–102). (§5) But how about those who revere the finished products: sun, moon, or the other stars, wandering or fixed, or both the entire heaven and its adornment? In the following sections Philo begins invariably with a strong word of objection (ἀλλὰ), as if he is voicing the examples of his opponents who would beg to differ on his chosen model of philosophical excellence. The orality of this piece is shown here by the drumming repetition of the word throughout §§ 4– 10. Philo now distinguishes between the four elements and that of the great bodies that are the results of the combinations of those elements. As Colson (PLCL 9:116) points out, the participle τιμῶντας, “those revering,” of §3 governs what follows, as they have an accusative plural article at the start. Literally, ἀποτελέσματα means “finished products” (LSJ 222), referring to the fact that they are made out of the elements, by the Maker. The word outside Philo curiously has an astrological resonance (LSJ 222). These entities have been formed out of the raw elements of earth, water, fire and air (see also Her. 209, 226–227).

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Philo includes fixed stars, not only the seven planets identified as gods, in referring to the stars “wandering or fixed” (πλάνητας ἢ ἀπλανεῖς). By this he undoubtedly makes reference also to the planets and the fixed stars’ organization into constellations. The reference in Philo is comprehensive, including everything in the sky. The term ἀπλαναί appears in Ptolemy’s Tetrabiblos (e.g., 1.9), and most particularly in Books 7 and 8 of his Almagest, which include a catalogue of 1022 fixed stars described according to their positions within 48 constellations, work ultimately indebted to the 2nd-century BCE astronomer Hipparchus. Pliny (Nat. 2.24), claimed that Hipparchus “can never be sufficiently praised, no one having done more to prove that humanity is related to the stars and that our souls are a part of heaven.” However, for Philo this astrological dimension of the stars, linked with Egyptian cultic devotion, is a particularly key concern for Philo. The word, κόσμος, is translated here as “adornment,” not “cosmos” or “universe”; the reference seems to be derived from the LXX where in Gen 2:1 it reads ὁ οὐρανος καὶ ἡ γῆ, καὶ πᾶς ὁ κόσμος αυτῶν, “the heaven and the earth and their entire adornment,” cf. Opif. 89 (Runia 2001, 266), and Deut 4:18–19 (LXX): the children of Israel must not make carved images “lest having looked up to the sky, and having seen the sun and the moon and the stars and all the adornment of the sky (καὶ πάντα τὸν κόσμον τοῦ οὐρανοῦ) you should wander and worship them which the Lord your God has distributed to all of the nations under heaven.” In Opif. 53 this “god-like adornment” is equivalent to “the lightbearing heavenly bodies.” The constellations are a kind of beautiful adornment in the night sky, like jewels arranged in a necklace. For an attack on Graeco-Roman divinizing of the world or the planets somewhat like Philo’s in thought if not in phrasing, see Clement of Alexandria, Protr. 6. Conybeare (1895, 195) cites Origen, Contra Celsum 5.6, where Origen claims that Celsus shows his misunderstanding of Jewish belief when he says that the Jews worship the heaven and the angels in it, but do not worship heaven’s components, “the sun, moon, and the other stars, both the fixed stars and the planets.” The language and ideas somewhat resemble Contempl. 5, but van den Hoek (2000, 50) does not detect any direct connection. Philo places the reference to astral entities within a context of ridiculing false worship, comparable with Egyptian animal worship, or veneration of the demi-gods like Hercules or Dionysus. and thus provides an indication that there was a specified worship of deities conceptualized as being the heavenly bodies, and vice versa. Moreover, there is a direct association between the elements and the heavenly bodies formed from them. Likewise, in Decal. 52–57, Philo pairs those who worship the elements with those who revere the sun, moon, planets and stars identifying that some call the earth Korē or Pluto, and the sea

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(water) Poseidon, the air Hera and the fire Hephaestus. Clearly one leads to the other, because in the Ptolemaic system indebted to Hipparchus the spheres of the elements air and fire lie just below sphere of the moon. Philo does not here specifically link any of these bodies with the names of Graeco-Egyptian deities, though in Decal. 54–55 the sun is called Apollo, the moon Artemis, the morning star Aphrodite (Venus) and the “twinkler” Hermes (Mercury), with others also “named by myth-makers who have made up stories designed to deceive, and won fame for their skill in naming.” This seems to be what Philo has in mind in this section. Philo was not himself someone who rejected all knowledge in terms of astonomia, which at this time was a blend of science and astrology. Philo himself can use the planets metaphorically, in line with contemporaneous astrological theory. In Legat. he considers the celestial deities in terms of how unlike them the emperor Gaius was, in his assumption of supposed divinity, listing Hermes (Mercury), Apollo (the Sun, Helios) and Ares (Mars) (Legat. 93–113). They are defined in terms of fundamental exemplary characteristics benefitting humanity: Hermes/Mercury is a “prophet” of divine things, a messenger of good, and is a herald of treaties of reconciliation. This characterization has parallels with the positive qualities of Mercury in the soul as defined in Ptolemy’s Tetrabiblos (3.13/167). For Philo Ares/Mars represents a strong defence from evil (see further Niehoff 2015). Ares/Mars helps and champions those who are wronged, and ultimately destroys wars (Legat. 111–113). This parallels Ptolemy’s “honorary” position of Mars as giving someone strong, active nobility (Tetrabiblos, 3.13/163). In other words, Philo can use the astrological symbolism, but clean away the actual astrology that would otherwise adhere to it (for further see Taylor and Hay 2011). In Contempl. 5 the focus is not on science but on the cultic devotions to deities linked with astral entities. Philo also denounces the deification of heaven as two hemispheres in the cult of the Dioscuri, Castor and Pollux (Decal. 56– 57). Philo understands that the whole sky is divided into two hemispheres, one above and one under the round earth (so Cher. 25; Mos. 2.98, 122–123, 133; Spec. 1.86). Normally Castor and Pollux, the Dioscuri, are identified with two stars in the constellation of Gemini (the zodiacal sign then indicating the Dioscuri as Twins), but Philo writes that the myth of the Dioscuri—as hemispheres— is that they lived on alternative days (cf. Somn. 1.50), an interpretation found elsewhere only in Sextus Empiricus, Math. 9.37: “For the two hemispheres, one above the earth and one below the earth, the wise men of the people then call Dioscuri” (Colson, PLCL 7:610). This seems to derive from Egyptian thinking; Macrobius (Saturnalia 1.21.22) cites the Egyptian zodiac which emphasizes the signs as indicative of the power of the sun: “The Twins who are believed to die

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and come to life in turn again indicate the one and the same sun that now descends to the lowest parts of the world and now rises to the highest.” Philo sees the elements and the celestial bodies as existing prior to the mythologizing and deification, and condemns those who create gods out of these entities. As such, in this passage as a whole he is scorning a great range of Graeco-Egyptian cultic devotions as being far inferior to the proper service of the only object worthy of devotion, as evidenced by the contemplative Jewish philosophers he defines. So it seems probable that Philo in § 5 means to refer to those who rationalize by means of philosophy that they serve the heavenly bodies when they actively involve themselves in the cults of these Greek gods. It should be noted that the specific ridiculing of those who engage in such astral worship would appear to be a deliberate attack on the protecting deity of Alexandria, Serapis, who was understood to be the sun (Macrobius, Saturnalia 1.20.13, and see Fraser 1972, I.19). The Therapeutae transcend sun-worship, in that in §11 it is said that they “rise above the observable sun and never leave this order that leads towards perfect happiness.” Strabo attests a temple of Serapis at Canopus as a place where people went for cures and for oracles (Geogr. 17.1.17). The Oxyrhynchus Papyri indicate also that Serapis was an oracular god, in that he could be asked questions in terms of fortune (P.Oxy. 8.1148 as cited in Ferguson 1980, 124, see also P.Oxy. 8.1149, 11.1382). Serapis here then has knowledge of what will befall individual human beings: a god in charge of fate. These are exactly the benefits we expect from Apollo (as the Sun/Helios), according to Philo (Legat. 109), who does not mention the god by the name of “Serapis/Sarapis” at all in any of his works. For Philo, Apollo/Helios is bright and beautiful, a physician and oracular prophet; yet, if any cult was astronomiafriendly in the Alexandrian region, it was that of saving (curing) Serapis. The evidence suggests that the cult of Serapis in Alexandria integrated Chaldean star worship and the cult of the sun (Cumont 1912, 79; 1972, 1: 246– 254). While originating in Memphis as a synthesis of the god of the underworld, Osiris, and the Apis bull, Serapis soon absorbed other deities. The god Osiris, as god of the dead, was at the same time the night, since the stars in ancient Egyptian understanding were human life-spirits held there. Osiris was depicted as black not only because he represented the black Nile earth but also the black night sky. Despite this, the most important identification of Serapis by the 1st century CE was with the sun, Apollo/Helios (Stambaugh 1972, 79–84), so much so that he can even be designated as Heliosarapis (Merkelback 2001, 78–79; Vidman 1969, 331). Serapis is also called Zeus not because he is identified as the planet Zeus/Jupiter but in so far that “Zeus” designated a sky god (as explored by Ferguson 1970, 32–37). Serapis is, to Ferguson, an “important example of the solarization of Zeus-Jupiter” (Ferguson 1970, 36). See also Minucius Felix,

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Octavius 22.2; Aelius Aristides, Or. 8.56; Diogenes Laertius, Lives 5.5; Rufinus, Hist. 2.24. He is thus, conceptually, Apollo. The British Museum collection alone has numerous examples of this. One lamp (BM 1987,0402.27) shows Serapis (= the sun) flanked by a crescent moon and a star. Another item (BM 1923,0401.674) is a gem of transparent white glass paste, with the head of Serapis, surrounded by seven stars. And if we want more personal evidence of cultic worship with an astral connection in Philo’s Egypt we have a rather baffling mummy portrait (BM 1994,0521.12) from Hawara, dated to 140–160 CE, showing a man dressed in white, with a headband showing a seven-pointed star, who is generally identified as a priest of Serapis. Astral symbolism in the BM Serapis collection is found in OA.9913 a magical gem depicting a naked woman holding a sheet, a bearded bust of Serapis, star and crescent moon; 1986,0501.125 intaglio with Serapis and seven stars; lamp showing Serapis on a globe flanked by the starred caps of the Dioskouri, 1970,1231.1 and 1888,0601.150. In Alexandria astral symbolism was built into its very nomenclature: the Canopic Way ran from the western Gate of the Moon to the eastern Gate of the Sun, and ultimately led east to Canopus, a port by the Nile, where, from 127 to 151 CE the great astronomer-astrologer Ptolemy would observe the stars (Toomer 1984, 1). Egyptian priests were adept astrologers, and Chaeremon states that they spent a part of the night in observation of the heavenly bodies (Porphyry, Abst. 4.8). In the Greek magical papyri, Serapis can be called kosmokrator (PGM XIII 619), a name associated with the astrological power of the planets and especially the sun (Helios: PGM III 135; IV 166, 1599; cf. Hermes [Mercury] PGM V 400; XVII b1; IV 2198–2199. For the planets as kosmokratores, see Vettius Valens 171.6; 360.7, in van der Toorn, Becking and van der Horst 1999, 908. For Zeus Serapis Kosmokrator, see Tran Tam Tinh 1983: Cal. 24–26, 39, 85, esp. Fig. 170). Moreover, given the insistence from Philo that “Chaldeans” identify the world as God, or that God is found within the world (Her. 96–97; Migr. 177–179), it is interesting that this is precisely what Macrobius indicates in regard to Serapis, quoting the oracle to Nicocreon, King of Cyprus (Saturnalia 1.20.16–17; Stambaugh 1972, 81–82): Such a god am I to learn, and what sort I relate: The heavenly world is my head, The sea my belly, My feet are the earth, My ears lie in the aether, And my far-seeing eye is the shining light of the sun.

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Serapis in this oracle then encompasses the universe, with his body linked to the elements (water, earth, air, fire/sun), though strictly speaking it is Isis who represents the material world. The traditional realm of the god Osiris is here understood as the head of Serapis, with Helios (the Sun) his eye. In the next chapter, Macrobius identifies Osiris as the sun, noting that the hieroglyphic sign for Osiris is the sceptre and eye, since the god is the sun who looks down on the world from high above, the sun being “the eye of Zeus” (Saturnalia 1.21.11–12); Macrobius follows this by running through the Egyptian understanding of the zodiac as indicating twelve dimensions of the power of the sun (Saturnalia 1.21.16–27) and states (in response to Nicocreon’s query about which of the gods he was held to be), the oracle indicated that Serapis is the sun, while Isis—worshipped with Serapis—is the earth, or Nature, depicted covered with breasts. Thus, in short, we may understand Serapis is a kind of allencompassing spiritual deity, and a pantheistic one, in that Serapis is intrinsic within the world (the materiality aspect represented by Isis) and the heavens, not separated from it and ordering it from a throne in the celestial realm above. Ptolemy consistently uses the term “God,” in the singular, despite his exploration of the numerous planets conceptualized as deities. This is precisely what Philo repeatedly states in regard to those who worship the stars. Their theology is wrong not because they are polytheists, but because they identify “God” with the world, or see God as intrinsic within creation. This is essentially a Stoic position, in seeing God immanent in Nature, as opposed to the position of the Middle Platonists, who held God apart from the material world (see Runia 1986, 485). The Stoics had therefore a creative interpretation of cultic worship overall (see Algra 2009), but notions of the immanent Serapis in Alexandria would have matched their philosophical views. Those who venerate the stars are categorized by Philo as the antithesis of true ministers of Being. In Decal. 66 they are specifically called “θεραπευταί of the sun and moon, and all the host of heaven,” and they are a key contrasting example at the beginning of the treatise. As such, it seems likely that those who were indeed “ministers of Serapis” were called as evidence by Philo’s opponents, to illustrate lives of virtue. In his final disparagement of misguided cults, Philo will scoff at Egyptian animal worship (Contempl. 8–10). In § 5 he scoffs at sun and star worshippers in order to undermine Alexandrian astronomia that was associated with the temples of Serapis in Alexandria and Canopus, and with the Alexandrian Stoics who supported an immanent theology. That Philo could aim so directly at Graeco-Egyptian cult and devotions is something we might expect given the troubled times. As Capponi (2010, 121–122) has explored, Jews who revolted in Alexandria in 115–117CE appear to have targetted the cult of Serapis, and were called ἀνίσιοι, “impious” (P.Oxy. 4.705).

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But these things too have not come to be from themselves, but by means of a certain most perfect Maker (Demiurge) of most perfect understanding. This form of devotion is dismissed quickly with the remark that all these physical things were created by the Maker, who is possessed of perfect knowledge. Clearly this is meant to be an abbreviation of the cosmological argument that Philo sets out elsewhere in detail, with the understanding that God, who is capable of such an immense and complex creation, must have unlimited knowledge. In Contempl. 5, however, there is really no argument, Philo contenting himself with a remark that pillories people who are content to revere the visible world or its major constituents by their cultic service. Does Philo here assume that his readers will share his monotheistic convictions? Perhaps, given that the focus is the inferior service provided by the false ministers, who waste their time in their honorific devotions. But, on the other hand, he may be appealing to the sensibleness of Jewish monotheism as part of a rhetorical strategy against those who have provided examples of “the contemplative life” from a range of Graeco-Egyptian cultic devotions—fused with Stoicism and Neoplatonism— for which model we have the text of Chaeremon (see Introduction, pp. 9–17 and see §8). It is therefore part of an argument; he is not appealing to people like himself who have a foregone conclusion about the nature of God, but debating with those who have presented different models. (§6) But how about those who revere the demi-gods, which is surely also something worthy of a joke? For can the same person ever be both immortal and mortal? The reference to the Dioscuri, as conceptualized in Alexandria, which is presented in terms of the reverence for the whole sky, then leads Philo to consider the demi-gods as a category. In Legat. 78–79 these are defined specifically as being Dionysus, Heracles and the Dioscuri. As with Apollo, Ares and Hermes, in Legat. Philo commends the demi-gods for their heroic actions (81–85), and states, “all these have had admiration and even now receive admiration because of their beneficial exploits, and they were deemed worthy of reverence and of the highest honours” (86). Their example as heroes is used to point the finger at Gaius (87–92). This is one of many cases in which Philo can seem strangely inconsistent, but different rhetorical fields demanded different strategems. The ironic humour that sets the tone for this section of Contempl. is sharpened by explicit reference to a joke, χλεύη. Philo thinks it a joke that someone might be considered somehow mortal and immortal at the same time. The same kind of critique of the demi-gods is found in Clement, Protr. 2.41.4, and for further see Graffigna (1992, 102 and Daumas and Miquel 1963, 81 n. 5).

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Besides that, also the origin of their birth is to be culpable, full of youthful debauchery, which they dare, not purely, to associate with the blessed and divine powers—as if those detached from every passion and thrice-blessed consorted, enraptured, with mortal women. Philo thinks that those who revere the demi-gods must surely have a problem with the manner of their births, in ascribing lust to the blessed and divine powers. This switch to envisioning the demi-gods (as powers) reminds us that Philo can see positive attributes in Graeco-Roman deities, as Legat. shows, but perhaps Philo here is actually referring to language used by his opponents in describing their gods. They should be passion-free and highly blessed, but how can they be if they have passionate sex? The bad examples of pious ministers associate the demi-gods with certain divine powers, but “not purely,” οὐκ εὐαγῶς; when Philo uses the word εὐαγής it tends to mean “pure” or “holy” (Cher. 42, 94, 100; Sacr. 98, etc.). Here Philo considers his own concept of God’s powers themselves. Since God’s intrinsic being is transcendent, God’s interaction with the world is through “powers” (δυνάμεις; see Termini 2000; Calabi et al. 2015). In Platonic understanding these powers were the newer gods (Plato, Tim. 40b–41b, 42d– 43b, 69b–c, 70c, 78a) who serve the Demiurge (Dillon 1977, 7). In Stoic thought all the gods were in fact powers of the one immanent God, or Zeus (Diogenes Laertius, Lives 7.147, see Bénatouïl 2009, 24–26). In Philo’s cosmology the ineffable God has created the universe by means of his powers (e.g., Opif. 17–25; Cher. 23–30; Sacr. 59; Post. 20, 169; Deus 78–80; Conf. 136, 168–173; Migr. 176– 187; Mut. 28; Abr. 59; Spec. 1.382–389), but Philo is not entirely consistent in the language he uses to define these. Philo in Cher. 27–28 writes of two highest powers, Goodness and Authority, linked by a third, Logos, or Reason. In Fug. 18–19 Philo defines six powers: i. the Logos, ii. the power of creativity, iii. the power of kingship, iv. the power of mercy, v. and vi. the power of legislation, which is divided into two parts (and see Fug. 94–105). In Her. 166 the powers are described as Munificent and Punitive. Philo identifies the powers with the Platonic “forms,” ἰδέαι, in Spec. 1.48, 323. In Opif. Philo blends biblical and Platonic concepts (Decharneux 2017). As before, Philo seems to assume that those who revere the “powers” are those who revere the demi-gods as being identified with them, i.e., both Middle Platonists and Stoics; he accepts a kind of philosophic motivation on the part of those who particularly serve such entities. He aims to make fun of such a notion: they themselves would not truly accept a fouling of the “powers” with sexual passion. The adjective three times blessed, τρισευδαίμων, is an emphatic form in Philo (cf. Ios. 20; Spec. 1.31, 3.178; 4.123) and may also be rendered as “highly blessed.” It may reflect the moniker of Hermes Trisme-

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gistos, though this is only evidenced from the 2nd century onwards (Copenhaver 1995, xliii). (§7) But how about those who revere the wooden images and statues? Next in Philo’s gallery of inferior forms of reverence comes the worship of images made out of wood and stone. In poking fun at those who give honours to idols Philo avoids baldly insisting on a monotheistic theology, and also does not develop any association here with idolatry and greed for wealth and glory, as in Spec. 1.21–31 (see Sandelin 1991, 119–122). Rather, Philo develops a method found already in Isaiah 44:9–20. There the prophet mockingly describes someone who takes some of the wood from a tree for fuel to bake bread. The rest of the wood “he makes into a god, his idol, bows down to it and worships it.” The Wisdom of Solomon offers a similar line of attack, but speaks only of a woodcutter who shapes an idol out of a worthless piece of wood while with a good portion of the tree he creates “a useful vessel that meets life’s needs” (Wis 13:11). Likewise, Philo diminishes the substance of the statues themselves, stone and wood, by association, a method also used in the Sibylline Oracles (3.13–14; 31, 58–59; 587–589; 5.82–83, 356, 403–405, 495; 8.44; 14.61, Fr. 3.19; see Lightfoot 2008, 36). As with astral religion and animal worship, the veneration of wooden statues was part of Graeco-Egyptian cultic devotion. Chaeremon states that the Egyptian priests were always near the statues of the gods, “either carrying them or processing before them or arranging them with order and reverence” (Porphyry, Abst. 4.6, transl. Clark 2000, 104). These are stone and wooden substances, things which up until a moment before were completely shapeless. When stone-cutters and woodcarvers separated them from the source stock, their kindred parts and relatives became bathtubs and foot-basins and other items for dishonourable uses which serve for the needs done in darkness more than those done in light. These substances are presented figuratively as being a common stock from which some go to being honoured in the context of a temple, while related parts end up in an unfortunate new family, as if they have married very badly into a group of people who own a disreputable bath-house, or as if they have even become prostitutes, whose role is to serve the needs of the body. The word συμφυΐας is here translated as “source stock” in order to retain the “family” language that Philo employs. It is not a very common word, but is found seven times elsewhere in Philo’s corpus, with the same sense of being the material or organism from which something is cut or is taken (Deus 35, 40; Spec. 3.118; Virt. 138; Aet. 114; Flacc. 71; though it seems to mean “cohesion” in Leg. 3.38).

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Here he identifies bathtubs, foot basins and other vessels. Perhaps he is even thinking even of pans or jars used to collect human excrement. Employing the honour-shame framework understood in his world, Philo points out that the statues are themselves dishonoured by the besmirching associations of the wider family. Philo specifies vessels designed for serving the body as belonging to darkness. The theme is repeated later on; in §34 Philo will describe the Therapeutae as eating and drinking only after sunset because they consider that physical needs belong to the darkness. The body is not to be serviced, in Philo’s view, but rather neglected, as we shall see below, since the body is wicked by nature, a plotter against the soul (Leg. 3.69), evil and dead (Leg. 3.72–74; cf. Leg. 1.107– 108; Gig. 15). The association between idolatry and the body is made elsewhere in Philo’s work (Sobr. 75, cf. 144, see Sandelin 1991, 119). In particular, the association between the body and Egypt is a frequent theme, as explored by Pearce (2007, 81–128); those who serve God should “migrate” away from the body. A similar critique of idolatrous objects, fashioned by human hands, is found in the Letter of Jeremiah (LXX Baruch 6). The gold and crowns that people make for the heads of the idols might be taken for spending on prostitutes (Ep. Jer. 1.11), and the wooden gods, overlaid by silver and gold, are like a thornbush on which any bird perches, or like a corpse thrown out into the darkness (1:70). (§8) For as for those professing piety among the Egyptians, it is not good to be reminded It seems Philo has been reminded of Egyptian piety by his opponents. Mention is made of both idols made of wood and stone and also “darkness,” and thus there is the conjunction “for” (γὰρ). The same link between idolatry and animal worship is found in Decal. 76: “in addition to wooden and other images they have led off to divine honours irrational animals” (see Pearce 2007, 282– 308). Egyptian animal worship could be appealed to easily in a Roman context as being quite absurd (cf. Horace, Satires 1.8.1–3; Cicero, Tusc. 5.27). Philo generally speaks of the “Egyptians” as the native Egyptians, as opposed to the Greek-speaking descendants of those who entered Egypt in the wake of Alexander the Great. The Egyptians are antithetical to his ideals, the “ultimate Other” as Niehoff defines them (Niehoff 2001, 45–74). That he uses οὐδε … καλόν emphasizes how not at all good this thought is. It becomes the final example of all those who are not good ministers to the divine. They are introduced then with a μέν … δέ construction, culminating in the example of the Therapeutae in §11.

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those who have led off towards divine honours irrational animals Using the verb παράγω, meaning “lead away,” “lead past,” Philo visualizes animals being led from their natural habitats off from them towards temples where they are given divine honours. Charemon likely presented the practice of Egyptian animal worship in positive terms, as indicated by Porphyry (Abst. 4.9.1–4), arguing that the same soul is present in both humans and animals. However, for Philo, Egyptian animal worship is one reason to scorn his opponents in Legat. 25 and 139, since, as Pearce (2007, 72) notes, “their zoolatry reveals their true impiousness.” Clearly, one of the most important elements in true service to God is that it is motivated by reason. The Logos that is within Nature should be honored through reason (see Winston 1985, 208–211). Here the service of creatures that are ἄλογα, “irrational,” is itself also unnatural. In making this suggestion, Philo could appeal to widespread critique of such veneration (Pearce 2007, 248–264). In particular, regarding the irrationality of these, Strabo (Geogr. 17.1.28) mentions the representation in an Egyptian temple of “some irrational animal,” and in Philostratus’s Life of Apollonius of Tyana (6.19) the philosopher objects to temples that honour “irrational and ignoble animals rather than gods” (see Pearce 2007, 285). Clement of Alexandria, writing against GraecoEgyptian worship (Protr. 2), actually lists the Egyptians as slightly better than the Greeks, for at least “irrational animals” are not adulterous and libidinous. Though, as Graffigna (1992, 103–104) notes, Philo could use animals as representative of the passions (Leg. 2.11). On the other hand, Plutarch suggests that the animals themselves were symbolic of the divine being (Is. Os. 71/379e, 76/382a–c). Plutarch’s treatise on Egyptian worship of Isis, and Egyptian rites in general, provides an excellent illustration of the kind of exemplar that Philo is specifically countering by means of his ridicule. Plutarch begins his essay (Is. Os. 2/351e–352a) by noting that those initiated into the sacred rites of Isis follow a strict regimen, abstain from certain foods and bodily desires, and submit to stern and austere service in shrines, designed to gain knowledge of God (= Zeus). This exemplar of excellent service to divinity is presented by Philo’s Alexandrian Stoic contemporary and opponent, Chaeremon, whose description of the Egyptian priests—of whom he was one—is preserved as a lengthy epitome in Porphyry’s De Abstinentia 4.6–9 (see Introduction pp. 5–19). Here the “philosophizing” of the lifestyle of the priests is explicitly made in a form that parallels Philo’s description of the Therapeutae at numerous points (cf. Taylor 2003, 44–45, and see discussion above). According to Porphyry, Chaeremon states that the Egyptian priests chose temples as places where they lived the contemplative life, since the temples were only open to others at festivals. Here “they gave over their whole life to contemplation and vision of the divinities (Abst. 4.6.1).” Porphyry notes how Chaeremon

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stated that they were always seen near gods, or statues, either carrying or processing or setting them with order and dignity, interpreting them in terms of allegorical truths. In their austere lives they lived “free of disease” (ἄvοσοι). In Jerome’s summary of the same text, he notes that these priests “contemplated the nature of things and the order of the stars” (Jerome, Jov. 2.13). The description of these priests in Porphyry is immediately followed by a description of Egyptian animal worship (Abst. 4.9), which appears to be derived from Chaeremon, and it concludes by noting that “they have philosophic interpretations of the ram, and of the crocodile, the vulture, the ibis and indeed of every animal” (Abst. 9.9.9, transl. Clark 2000, 107). not only tame ones but also the fiercest wild beasts, from each of the [regions] under the moon: Chaeremon mentioned “that both tame and wild beasts are our foster-brothers” (Porphyry, Abst. 4.9.3) The expression “under the moon” uses the Aristotelian notion of the subluminary regions discussed in his Meteorology. Beneath the moon there is a sphere that consists of the four elements, thus Philo refers back to Contempl. 3 in which these elements are specifically mentioned. Here additionally by referring to the moon Philo creates an image of the animal kingdom as lying in darkness, the darkness that has already been mentioned. of land creatures—the lion; of water beasts—the indigenous crocodile; of air creatures—the hawk and the Egyptian ibis. Chaeremon identified in Egyptian cultic worship that: “the lion is worshipped like a god, and one region of Egypt (they call it a nome) has the name Leontopolites [lion], another Bouseirites [ox], another Kynopolites [dog] and another Lykopolites [wolf]” (Porphyry, Abst. 4.9.4, trans. Clark 2000, 106) and later on mentions the crocodile, hawk/vulture and ibis (Abst. 4.9.9). Philo emphasizes the Egyptian worship of the lion (the god Mihos, or Mahes, son of the cat goddess Bastet), the crocodile (Sobek), the hawk/vulture (Mentu) and ibis (Thoth). Three of these, the lion, the crocodile and the hawk/vulture, are vicious predators of the land, water and air. In both §§ 8 and 9 Philo seems to set particular store by the idea that the objects of worship are dangerous, savage beasts (see Daumas and Miquel 1963, 83 n. 4 on the ibis, and Pliny, Nat. 10.28).

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(§9) And they worship them, while seeing these being born, and having a need for food—creatures with voracious appetite and full of excrements, both venomous and human-eating ones, and liable to all kinds of diseases, and in death not only perishing by a death that is according to Nature but also often by a violent one. The civilized worship the uncivilized and untamed, the rational beings worship the irrational The physicality and inadequacy of the objects of Egyptian veneration are plainly obvious, and yet they continue to revere these. Philo condemns the animals involved in native Egyptian worship for various reasons, one of these being that these animals are, according to Philo, “full of excrements.” He links those who are devoted to them with verdure, tainting the service of these creatures with this unwholesome image. Plutarch notes this problem of animal excrement in temples (Is. Os. 4/352–353, see Conybeare 1895, 198–199; Daumas and Miquel 1963, 84 n. 1). The animals are supremely physical creatures of the body: eating and defecating, sickening and poisoning, giving birth and dying, often by violence. The participle τιμῶντας of §3 governed the sections that precede this, but now Philo uses a stronger term: προσκυνοῦσιν, “they worship.” The absurdity of this worship is then spelt out by a series of opposites: the wild animals who are naturally “subservient and slavish” should be controlled by human beings, whose proper nature is to be civilized and rational, and instead human beings worship the antithesis of what is civilized, rational, divine and beautiful. and those who have kinship with the Divinity In Genesis 1–2 all humans are created in the image of God. God breathes his breath/spirit into them, and humanity rules over all the rest of creation, including the animals, named by Adam (cf. Praem. 85–92). For Philo, all human beings are created as having kinship with God, as Demiurge or Creator, but those who turn to the worship of false gods lose their capacity for drawing near to God. The revering of animals, or images, is seen as a corruption that came into the world sometime in history, when humanity departed from the true worship of God. The same idea is found in Rom 1:18–31, where Paul considers that humanity exchanged the glorifying of God for “an image in the form of corruptible man and of birds and of four-footed animals and crawling creatures” (Rom 1:23, and see Wis 13–14). worship the animals not even comparable in ugliness with Thersites; the rulers and masters worship the naturally subservient and slavish. See the textual note on this: only manuscript A and the Armenian translation have “Thersites”. Rather than directly alluding to Genesis, Philo visibly urges the

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reader to recall a passage in the Iliad (2.211–221) in which Odysseus berates and beats Thersites, who is both very ugly and unable to stand against him, though he has dared to speak words of rebellion against Agamemnon. He was known as a monster (Plutarch, Adol. poet. aud. 18a; Clement, Protr. 37). That Thersites is a stupid and comic figure (e.g., Maximus of Tyr, Diss. 32.5, see Lowry 1991; Daumas and Miquel 1963, 84 n. 2) confirms the impression that Philo is himself poking fun by presenting the animals as grotesque and horrible. The ugliness of the animals points back to the phrasing of οὐδε … καλόν since καλόν may be translated as both “good” and “beautiful.” Here Philo defines humans as being the rulers and masters of creation, referring back to the biblical concept of Adam (humanity) created by God, who names all the other creatures (Gen 2.19–20) (§10) But since these people have surely infected with stupidity not only their compatriots but also those who approach Despite the new paragraph placed at the beginning of this sentence in the influential edition of Colson (PLCL 9:118), following C-W, and its partition as chapter II, §10 is the conclusion of Philo’s invective against the GraecoEgyptians (see Pearce 2007, 286). This is clear from the fact that Philo writes of “their compatriots,” literally “their own tribe” (τοὺς ὁμοφύλους), indicating an ethnic group, and those approaching τοὺς πλησιάζοντας, indicating outsiders arriving in their ethnic lands. These are terms of identity and geography that would refer back to the Egyptians of §8, which ties this passage with what has just preceded it. Additionally, φλυαρία, “stupidity,” “nonsense” (in word or deed, LSJ 1945), would point to the possibility of laughing with ridicule at the practices of the Graeco-Egyptians in particular, not at those who revere the elements, stars, demi-gods or statues of deities; Philo says, in Decal. 80, that strangers first arriving in Egypt are likely to die laughing at their cults. Philo returns to his imagery of health and sickness now with the word ἀναπιμπλᾶσι, “infect” (cf. Spec. 1.331, as noted by Pearce 2007, 286). The supposed θεραπευταί with whom one might compare his subjects (cf. § 3) are no comparison at all, and are, in fact, the very opposite of true ministers of the divine, true healers of souls. They infect with a kind of spiritual disease not only people within Egypt but those living nearby as well. let them remain untreatable, having been mutilated with respect to sight, the most necessary of the senses. They are “untreatable,” ἀθεράπευτοι, the opposite of the Θεραπευταί. The verb used for “remain” is διατελέω, which appears 50 times in Philo and twice more in this treatise (§§47, 63): in §47 it has the sense of “spend their whole life” and

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in §63 the sense is “continue [undeceived].” The form here, διατελείτωσαν, a 3rd person plural present imperative, with hortatory sense, thus Winston (1981, 43) has “Let them remain incurable.” The word πεπηρωμένοι is literally “having been mutilated,” Perfect passive participle of πηρόω (LSJ 1401). It means more than an impairment of sight, but implies incapacity. Philo adopted a Stoic notion of a hierarchy of senses, with sight, smell and hearing more important than touch or taste (Abr. 241). Sight stands in prime position (Abr. 150; Fug. 208; Spec. 4.60). The prior mutilation of sight means healing is impossible. Philo uses ἀθεράπευτος 13 times in his extant work, meaning “untreatable” or “incurable”; a condition not subject to remedy (see Sterling 2015). Philo brings the figurative language back to the starting point and ends his humorous tone, terminating ridicule with an image of blind persons, and even more so: they are people who seem to have deliberated blinded themselves. The point is that they live with an untreatable folly because they have lost something they once had, the spiritual capacity to desire or see the true God. I speak not of the physical sight but of the sight of the soul, by which alone truth and falsehood are recognized. What is particularly emphasized in this paragraph is the contrast between the Graeco-Egyptians who have lost their ability to discern truth, and the Jewish “ministers” of the Divine, the Therapeutae, informed by the sacred laws, whose spiritual vision leads them toward truth and the vision of the true immaterial God. The ministers of God are persons of whole or healed vision, who can heal others of their blindness and spiritual illnesses. Thus, §§ 10–11 suggest that for Philo the meanings of “treat (souls)” and “minister to (God)” are complementary facets of the same reality. By their worship of Being the Therapeutae distinguish themselves from all false and blind worship. It seems possible that Philo is here alluding to Isaiah 6:9 (cf. Mark 4:10–12), something he does more distinctly in Leg. 2.69 (“there are times when seeing we see not and hearing hear not”). Since false worship is blind, true worship heals or promotes the health of the spiritual “eye” that is able to discern truth. Just as the idea of the Good in Plato enables people to see things in the sense world as they truly are and make right value judgments, so Philo seems to be implying that persons who worship Being are provided with the spiritual capacity to judge good and evil properly. Conybeare remarks that Philo’s phrasing is Pythagorean (cf. Iamblicus, Protr. 360k, cf. Plato, Resp. 7.733d). But some people are beyond healing. This conclusion regarding those who revere images and animals in the Egyptian cult governs all the examples that Philo has given in his catalogue of those

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to whom his ministers of God may be compared and underscores fundamental dichotomies of the Two Ways inherent in the entire passage. These binary oppositions have been created in order to highlight that the exemplars Philo provides of the contemplative life are far superior to any other that may have been provided by those who argue against him. The truth and the falsehood here are specific to the examples he has given: it is the truth about what is being worshipped that they cannot see. Thus, we can create a kind of chart of characteristics that summarize Philo’s point:

Truth

Falsehood

detached light good spiritual/in the soul rational beautiful/kinship with Divine civilized soul-healing seeing

licentious §6 dark §7 [bad] §8 physical/in the body §§ 7–9 irrational §9 ugly §9 wild, uncivilized, dangerous § 9 untreatable and infectious § 10 blind §10

Philo’s dualism is different from the Platonic dualism of soul and matter and has a moral and psychological dimension (see e.g., QE 1.23). This dualism is similar to what we find in contemporaneous Jewish literature outlining the Two Ways, exemplified among the Dead Sea Scrolls in 1QS 3.13–4.26, 1QTwoSpiritsTreatise (1Q29a), 4QpapSa (4Q255), 4QSa (4Q255), 4QSh (4Q262), 4QpapSc (4Q257) (see e.g., Licht 1965; Tigchelaar 2004; Coulot 2008; Hempel 2009), and also in Christian writing: the Epistle of Barnabas 18–20; Didache 1–5. It follows on and amplifies what has already been introduced in § 3, where the “ministers” of the soul and of Being are contrasted with the ministers of the body, who command a medical art found in cities. This pattern of contrasting examples is one that creates a structure to the entire treatise (see Introduction pp. 38–41).

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The Example of Virtue (Return) §11

Finally, after this catalogue of poor examples, which are discussed not only with disdain but also with wry and ironic humour, Philo returns to the model that is the subject of the treatise, and his perfect example. Detailed Comments (§11) On the other hand the ministering type of people, having been taught further to see always See Textual Note for the C-W reading of “having been taught before” (προδιδασκόμενον) when all the manuscripts read “having been taught further” (προσδιδασκόμενον); unlike Colson (PLCL 9:118), C-W’s suggested amendment is not adopted here as the original word makes good sense. These people are additionally taught not just to see but to see always (ἀεὶ). The final dichotomies are then developed in the concluding section of this introduction, where false forms of reverence are swept aside and the focus returns to those who are the ministering people, τὸ θεραπευτικὸν γένος, concluding the μέν … δέ construction Philo began in §8. The word γένος is a “type of people,” “kind,” or “category,” and is difficult to translate. The reference is singular, but the translation is plural in order to indicate people of this “ministering” type, since “it” would read oddly in English. In this paragraph Philo returns to direct description of the “ministers” of God, which he began in §2. We now see that §§ 3–9 points to the greatness of his examples in contrast to their Graeco-Egyptian contemporaries. The essential distinction of the true ministers is their worship of God, who is wholly immaterial, in contrast to all the materialist divinities of the Graeco-Egyptians described in §§3–9. Interestingly, the language throughout is cultic, springing from the cultic associations of the meaning of θεραπευταί, but now Philo turns us back to philosophical greatness. Philo diverts us away from thinking about Jewish priests serving in the Temple in Jerusalem, which would have been the obvious comparison to what he has described in terms of cultic piety, to focus on those who can discern truth and falsehood and gain a mystical vision of God. Given the polemical tone, it seems that he is pointing to the insufficiency of such examples that may have presented by opponents, with specific reference to Alexandria (see Introduction pp. 1–19); he dismisses such examples as inadequate on various grounds. But it is not a wholesale denouncement of all kinds of Graeco-Roman religion as such. There would be notable holes in the presentation, if this were so: there is no mention of the Roman imperial cult, for example. The theme is how those other people who profess piety are not

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honouring the one who alone deserves veneration (and ultimately this might appeal to others who are philosophically motivated even beyond Judaism). The focus is on how much better his examples are than others in honouring Being, but he does this by not quite comparing like with like, in comparing cult with philosophical lifestyle, even though the people who follow this lifestyle are determined as being “ministers” of the divine, by a term that has a cultic association. The ministering type of people have been taught additionally to see always truth and falsehood, in terms of what has just been described, but also more generally. The true ministers of God can see, and they actually long to see God (Delling 1984). Deutsch (2006, 293) notes how the word βλέπω (used also in § 13, is often a cognate of the word θεωρέω, “contemplate, see,” in Philo’s works, one often used in Contempl. (§§1, 29, 58, 64, 67, 68, 78, 90). Israel means “one who sees God” (e.g., Her. 35–36, 76, Plant. 46, Legat. 1–7; Migr. 18, 54, 57, Fug. 184, see Birnbaum 1996: 61–127). Moses is the man who sees God (Post. 13–14), even though one cannot stare at God directly because of the blinding rays (Fug. 165, Post. 169, Mut. 6). As Moses is the ultimate θεραπευτής, so Israel is also “a ministering people” (QE 2.42–43). Thus, Philo appears to set up an ideal Israel that will be represented by his exemplars. He is not claiming that all Jews reach to such heights, but in Contempl. this group in some way reflects the ultimate achievement of Israel’s role in the world: they are what all Israel could be. The ministers of God long for a vision (θέα) of Being, τὸ ὄν (as in § 2). Philo elsewhere speaks of sight as the best of the senses (cf. Opif. 53–55), partly because it inspires the mind to discover the visible universe and move on from there to ponder the invisible world (see Spec. 3.187–190; cf. Conf. 141). Spiritual vision enables people to make valid distinctions between truth and falseness in terms of study and understanding in their important textual work (Winston 1985, 211–215; Deutsch 2006), an exegetical sight, but it also leads them to soar above the physical sun—as mentioned in §5 as an object of reverence—and move toward some kind of vision of God (Sacr. 7), a type of mysticism also found elsewhere in Judaism at this time (for explorations of this mysticism see Goodenough 1935; Wolfson 1994; DeConick 2004, 49–63; Bradshaw 1998. For ascent to the vision of the Good, see Plato, Resp. 517d–519d; 533d). let them yearn for the vision of Being, rise above the observable sun For “Being” as God see above under §2. In Opif. 70–71 there is the same ascent past the physical, sense-perceptible (observable) sun to the light of God (see Plato, Resp. 508b–509c). Philo elsewhere explains that the physical sun is seen by means of our sense of sight, but we only see it by the light that comes from the sun; likewise, we only see God via the light that comes from God (Praem.

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45–46, and see this explicated in Goodenough 1935). Vision of God is achieved by means of spiritual sight and those who can apprehend God without using reason are “holy and ministers and friends of God” (see also Her. 76). Elsewhere, Philo describes an elevation of the mind to become rational illuminations (Somn. 1.116), but also imagines the soul as being shone upon by God as if God is the midday sun (Abr. 119). God is the purest light (Mut. 6). The image of the “sight” of the soul is strongly reminiscent of Plato, who spoke of the “eye of the soul” (Resp. 533d; cf. 517b–519d; see further Philo, Ebr. 44; Prob. 5; Plant. 58 and Conf. 92). Conybeare (1895, 200) notes that the ascent of the soul is found in Phaedr. 246d–249d, where the realm of the gods is reached; in Opif. 71 Philo defines the goal as “the utmost vault of the intelligibles” (cf. Plato, Phaedr. 247a– b, see Runia 2001, 232). The heavenly ascent is also found within the Corpus Hermetica, including The Discourse on the Eighth and Ninth (Nag Hammadi VI: 6) in which Hermes instructs the initiate in a mystical ascent to the eighth and ninth heavens: “Trismegistus, let not my soul be deprived of the great divine vision. For everything is possible for you as master of the universe” (Robinson 1988, 325, and see DeConick 2004, 55, n. 86 concerning the possible influence of the Hermetica on Philo). For further discussion see below §§ 85–90. As noted above (pp. 125–127) the chief Alexandrian god Serapis was seen as symbolic of the physical sun (Macrobius, Saturn. 1.20.13), and therefore flying past the sun may indicate that Serapis himself is transcended. As Chaeremon said of the Egyptian priests, they “devoted their whole life to contemplation and vision of the Divine” (Porphyry, Abst. 4.6). and never leave this order that leads towards perfect happiness. The word τάξις is often a military term generally referring to a company of soldiers, but also to anything arranged in an order. Philo uses it in Contempl. first in regard to this heavenly order, and later simply as “order” as in a level of society (§61), order in the dining room (§75), or in order (§ 80). The goal of the Therapeutae defined here will be strongly linked with what they are said to have achieved in §90, and thus this creates a leitmotif of the treatise. They achieve happiness, εὐδαιμονία.

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§§12–39 The Good Example Following on from Philo’s Introduction, he identifies aspects of the Two Ways of truth and falsehood more specifically. The first way is typified by the example of the Jewish “ministers” (Therapeutae) and the second by the festive banqueters involved in the Egyptian cult (see Introduction pp. 19–22). Philo defines the features of his good examples in the following areas: property, location, housing, food and clothing. Then, he returns to the emphasis on the Two Ways by pointing out fundamental driving forces: conceitedness versus unconceitedness, the latter being the origin of truth. Thus, Philo only elaborates on aspects of the examples he finds particularly noteworthy and useful for his rhetoric. He is not aiming to provide a full description. In terms of the Therapeutae, he highlights only those aspects of the group that he finds illustrative of the excellence of Jewish philosophy, which is the philosophy of Moses as a whole. Once features of the Therapeutae have been enumerated, he will focus on one aspect only: food. After this, most of the treatise becomes an elaboration of this one feature, with the contrasting example described in much detail also.

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Property §§12–17

While the Therapeutae perceive their “mortal life to have already ended” § 13, they do not neglect all aspects of their physical state, but rather their priorities enable them to make the best decisions about how to live. Philo spends the first part of his treatise focusing on this aspect, while insisting on the inspired state of the Therapeutae. They are therefore balanced between “heaven and world,” a point he will explicitly make in §90. Detailed Comments (§12) Now when these people move towards ministry, The verb ἰόντες is simple the present participle from εἰμι, which with ἐπι (followed by accusative), indicates a movement or setting towards something. We are brought back again to those who truly serve God. The image is physical, in that the ministers (θεραπευταί καὶ θεραπευτρίδες) are concerned with ministry or service (θεραπεία, though note here that the Arm. and Lat. have here θεωρία, “contemplation”).

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not from custom or from advice or request from anyone The individual choice, and free will, of those deciding to embrace the contemplative lifestyle is mentioned a number of times in the treatise; no one compels these people to do anything (cf. §§13, 68). but when they have been seized by heavenly love, just like the Bacchantes and Corybants, they are inspired until they see what is longed for. Not only do these people minister to God, they have as their fundamental motive a “heavenly love” which has “seized” them; this is linked up with the idea of θεραπεία, “ministry,” itself. The devoted passion for God and making God the object of “sight” constitutes divine ministry. This clearly puts them in a remarkable category. It seems at first sight a rather sudden shift from Philo: having ridiculed the Graeco-Egyptian cults of Alexandria, Philo now uses an aspect of Graeco-Roman religious devotion positively. It is somewhat surprising to see this positive correlation explicitly drawn. Dionysus/Bacchus was one of the demi-gods Philo scoffed at in § 6, where mention is made of the supposed inappropriate passion gods felt for human beings. Now Philo praises the appropriate passion human beings feel for God as Being. Bacchic worshippers, and Corybants, were both renowned in the ancient world for going into possessed, trance-like states (cf. Lewy 1929; Scott 2008). The worship of the wine-god Dionysus/Bacchus, initially seen as a dangerous foreign import into Rome (see Livy, Hist. 39.8–19; Beard, North and Price 1998, I: 92–96), had become so domesticated in Italian cities that ecstatic initiation procedures could be depicted on a villa in Pompeii, in the House of the Mysteries (see Beard, North and Price 1998, I: 161–164). The Corybants or Kouretes were originally a mythic Phrygian group of dancing warriors devoted to Cybele (Strabo, Geogr. 10.3.7, 12). In fact, it is unlikely that Philo is much referring to actual ecstatic religion in his age, but rather taking these as concepts of inspired worship from Plato, since—as Strabo himself notes—both Bacchic worshippers and Corybants were used by Plato (see Phaedr. 249a; 253a; Phaed. 69c; Symp. 218a; Ion 533e–534a; Crito 54d) as indicating the inspired (and musical) state of those focused on philosophy (Strabo, Geogr. 10.3.10), and the linkage of the Bacchic and Corybantic enthusiasts—inspired, musical and dancing— Strabo traces already to Pindar and Euripides (Strabo, Geogr. 10.3.13). Thus, using the same imagery, in Her. 69–70 Philo exhorts the soul to leave the body, and become like “those who are seized and Corybantes, Bacchized and god-carried”: Βακχευθεῖσα καὶ θεοφορηθεῖσα. In Migr. 190–191 this capacity for visionary experience occurs in dreams, as also in Her. 1–2 and Opif. 71 (see Daumas and Miquel 1963, 86 n. 1). In Contempl. 85, near the end of the treatise, Philo will describe how the men and women members of the definitive

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contemplative community of Therapeutae join together to form a single choir “having drunk, as in the Bacchic rites, the wine-cup of God-loving.” The verb for “seized” in §12, ἀρπάζω, Philo uses elsewhere 23 times, though no other use by Philo comes close to that of religious inspiration in our passage. In Spec. 3.104 he speaks of being carried away by sudden anger, and, in Legat. 169, he uses the verb to describe how a clever speech might captivate a listener (cf. 2Cor 12:2, 4). Wis 4:11 speaks of the righteous man who was “taken away” (by God) from life in this world precisely because of his goodness (BDAG 134), but it may be that the language of being seized derives more from that of the Bacchic or Corybantic rites Philo explicitly mentions here. The word ἐνθουσιάζουσι, might literally be translate as “they are enthused,” but it picks up on various other words here for strong emotion. It also has quite a technical meaning in regard to being in an altered or possessed state (cf. Plato, Menex. 99d). While ἐνθουσιάζω may thus mean “inspired,” it here relates to the object of passion, τὸ ποθούμενον, and seems to indicate a deeply passionate emotion directed at what is craved. It is neuter, referring back to the vision of God mentioned in § 11. They are “inspired until they see what is longed for,” then, which relates also to the inspiration they experience in §87. Indeed the language of being “seized,” and “inspired” occurs in other Philonic passages connected with Bacchic and Corybantic rites and the “sober intoxication” Philo extolls: the visionary perception of Being (Lewy 1929, 24, 63), though he can use another word for “seized”: κατέχω (e.g., Opif. 71; Migr. 191; Her. 69). In Opif. 69–72 Philo discusses how humanity is in the image of God (Gen 1:26), or rather the human mind is in the image of the divine Mind. This human mind can be carried into the higher ether and the circuit of Heaven, whirled around with the dances of planets and fixed stars, according to laws of perfect music, going beyond anything senseperceptible to beautiful sights of paradigms and ideas (Opif. 71), “seized by sober intoxication, just as the Corybants by enthusiasm, possessed by a greater yearning and passion that others” (Opif. 71 cf. Somn. 2.1). The emphasis here on individual decision based on being seized by a heavenly love, not on custom nor on the counsel of other persons, does not fit well with Nikiprowetzky’s idea (1963, 1979) that Philo means to imply that all Jews are Therapeutae. The language of Philo in this paragraph, while uninformative about any external processes of selection, admission, or initiation into a particular community, implies that the Therapeutae are a group of persons individually summoned to a distinctive way of life by an intense experience which produces a love for God that no earthly good can satisfy. That these are indeed people among the Jewish community is implied already by §2, “the sacred laws,” but not all Jews follow the inspired contemplative life of the Therapeutae.

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The word used for love, ἔρως, is one used quite frequently by Philo, but often to refer to human erotic passion. In Contempl. it will appear again in §§ 59– 60 with that meaning: Philo insists that Plato’s Symposium is chiefly concerned with “erotic love (ἔρως) and heavenly Aphrodite” (a curiously positive use of the goddess in this context; clearly she is not here the planet of Decal. 54) but this is “common and ordinary ἔρως,” both heterosexual and homosexual. The language reflects the Platonic ideal of passionate love that ultimately is supposed to transcend ordinary reality and lead to metaphysical awareness. In Plato’s Symposium, Diotima teaches Socrates about the meaning of love as a longing that leads the true philosopher up a ladder of experiences of beauty to a climactic encounter with the Beautiful or the Form of the Beautiful (ὁ καλός), and it is then not surprising that Philo uses καλός in Contempl. 1 (twice), 8, 16, 67, and 89, as well as the double use of πάγκαλος in Contempl. 88. Unlike in Platonic philosophy, however, for the Therapeutae the object is never the human, but always Being (God), the love of which—as Philo will explains—leads to an ecstatic state in which there is an experience of heavenly ascent (see Taylor 2003, 312–322 and below, §§85–90). (§13) Then, because of the yearning for the deathless and blessed life, considering their mortal life to have already ended This is a state of existence in the present, rather than the future, attainable in the here and now. The Therapeutae have a yearning (ἵμερον) for what seems to be a particular lifestyle that is conducive to a life in the soul that is distinctive from normal life. This life is “deathless” and “blessed,” as if in a kind of angelic state, transferred already to the eternal realm of the divine. In Plato’s Symposium Socrates says “a man may be said to love a thing not yet provided or possessed, when he would have the presence of certain things secured to him for ever in the future” (Symp. 200d); yet there is a sense that the immortal state already belongs to these people. In 206e–207a love aims at engendering and begetting upon the beautiful something ever-existent and immortal in our mortal life. Likewise, “we must yearn for immortality no less than for good, since love wants good to be one’s own forever. And hence it necessarily follows that love is of immortality. The person who gains the vision of the highest beauty in itself (or the Form of the Beautiful) has gained the friendship of heaven and is, above all persons, immortal” (Symp. 212a; cf. Phaedr. 251d). they leave aside their belongings to sons or daughters or even to other relatives, giving them an advance inheritance with free will See the textual note. This translation follows C-W in reading προκληρονομούμενοι, “giving an advance inheritance,” rather than the manuscripts which have

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προσκληρονομούμενοι, “attaching an inheritance,” but the manuscripts may well be right. Having mentioned at the beginning that the Therapeutae are both male and female, Philo throughout the treatise remembers to note females as well as males, though not with complete consistency. It is interesting here that girls and women are specifically identified as heirs, and receive possessions from those who are divesting themselves of these. The term ὁυσία, “possessions,” is used in §§7, 14, 16, 18, 61 [× 2] to refer to “substance,” which in this instance refers to personal belongings and property, including land, as we see in §§14–16. In Contempl. 7, it refers to the substance of wooden images and statues. The actions of the Therapeutae here will be held up as a better example than those of Hellenic examples of philosophical excellence provided by Anaxagoras and Democritus (§§14–16). The way the “substance” here is discussed it includes fields that could be grazed by sheep, without thinking of relatives or friends, but rather the Therapeutae enable those who are not so well off to become well-resourced (§14). This indicates that the Therapeutae themselves have property to divest, and are therefore themselves reasonably well-to-do, as far as Philo portrays them. They are clearly here also mature, having children and property. In fact, there are several clues in the treatise suggesting that the Therapeutae come largely at least from the upper socio-economic classes, not least of all the fact that they are clearly very educated. Did they give up their private property with the understanding that the recipients would provide for their housing and food and the other things they needed for their life? Did other friends or sympathetic people in or around Alexandria provide for their needs? Philo is silent on these issues. What he does emphasize is that the Therapeutae were typically persons of property who gave away their possessions in order to devote themselves to immaterial things (see Taylor and Davies 1998; Taylor 2003, 93–99). It is important to note that mention of “sons and daughters” implies that at least some of the Therapeutae were married, and are fathers and mothers to offspring they left behind in order to live an ascetic life away from the city. This brings to mind the kinds of prescriptions found within the tradition of Jesus’s sayings: “Truly I tell you, no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel, will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age: homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields … and in the age to come eternal life” (Mark 10:29// Matt 19:29; Luke 18:29); “You cannot serve both God and material things (mammon)” (Matt 6:24//Luke 16:13); “anyone who comes to me without hating [rejecting?] father, mother, wife, children, brothers, sisters, yes, and his own life too cannot be my student. No one who does not carry his own cross and come after me can be my disciple” (Luke 14:26–27); “anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves their son or daughter more than

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me is not worthy of me” (Matt 10:37). All these sayings indicate that detachment from the family household in order to live a lifestyle devoted to God is required of Jesus’s disciples. The Therapeutae therefore provide a parallel of such detachment. Note, however, that their property is not given to the community they live with, but to their (less well off) relatives and friends. The giving of their wealth to those left behind, outside the place where they go to live, is completely different from what is indicated in early Christian contexts (cf. Acts 5:1–11), or among the Essenes, where Philo states that money earned and possessions were donated to the common fund of the community (Prob. 76–77; 85–87; Hypoth. 11.4). A lack of concern with material wealth is nevertheless a philosophical trope (Porphyry, Vit. Plot. 7; Philostratus, Vit. Apoll. 8.7): Socrates was famous for neglecting money-making (e.g., Plato, Symp. 216e; Apol. 31b–c). and, for those who are without relatives, they leave their belongings to companions and friends Here the word οἷς seems to be a case of “dative attraction,” the phrase literally meaning “those for whom they are not with relatives.” This notion that there may be people who do not have relatives to inherit their property is interesting, and may provide a glimpse of the vicissitudes of ancient lives, in which disease or misfortune could leave individuals without close relatives. For it is necessary that those who have readily received “the seeing wealth” hand over the “the blind wealth” to those still blind of mind. The idiom ἑξ ἑτοίμου appears to indicate an adverbial sense of something already prepared readily, see LSJ 704. Since they have readily received the true wealth of sight, the Therapeutae can hand over to others the wealth that is not important any longer. The mysterious language of τὸν βλέποντα πλοῦτον and τὸν τυφλὸν [πλοῦτον], “the seeing wealth” and “the blind wealth,” are invariably troublesome expressions for a translator thus: “the wealth which sees” and “the wealth which is blind” (Conybeare); “the wealth that has eyes to see” and “the blind wealth” (Colson). The quotation marks here are meant to indicate the metaphorical dimensions of the language. In Virt. 85, “virtue’s wealth in a soul lies in the sovereign part of their soul, in the purest part of existence, Heaven, and in the progenitor of everything, God” (see Wilson 2010, 214). Philo makes an allusion here to the Greek god Plautos, “wealth,” who is traditionally depicted as blind. The distinction between “blind wealth” and “seeing wealth” is also found in Fug. 19, where true wealth is defined as “that which is most keen-sighted of the things that are, which does not accept counterfeit coinage”: as such it is insight and discernment. In Abr. 25 the wealth that is

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not blind but rather keen-sighted is “abundance of virtues.” Joseph possessed this wealth (Ios. 258). Moses apparently despised material wealth as “blind” and pursued “the seeing wealth of Nature” more than anyone else (Mos. 1:153, cf. Praem. 54). In Abr. 57, Israel is defined as “one who sees God,” but the sight of mind is identified as “insight” (φρόνησις): the “sight of understanding” (and see also Her. 48). For further see also: Agr. 54; Sobr. 40 and Somn. 1.248. In T. Job. (26:3; 33:1–9; 36:3; 40:3) material possessions are contrasted with the truly great wealth of God’s eternal kingdom. A similar idea is also found in the Jesus tradition: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and rodents destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and rodents do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matt 6:19–21). However, clearly Jesus’s concept has a more eschatological dimension, related to the coming Kingdom of God. The Therapeutae have already received “the seeing wealth,” and it is not something anticipated for the future; they already possess insight in their minds. The true “treasures” in Contempl. are for those who have the power of sight, and enable them to “see” the divine reality of Being beyond the observable, material, sun; the material treasures that have been left to others allow no sight of these realities and are therefore “blind,” appropriate for those who do not have the capacity to see. The “ministering type of people” have been taught to see (§ 11), inspired until they see what is longed for (§12), and this “seeing” of Being allows them to exist in an order that leads towards perfect happiness (§ 11): this is the real treasure of the “seeing wealth.” Philo therefore blends together a concept of the mind’s insight and an inner experience. §§12–13 insist on the idea that the Therapeutae are driven or motivated simply and overwhelmingly by the love of God, which leads them to long to see God. While this love is evident in the ecstatic dancing and singing described in §85, another paragraph suggests that this love of God is a constant factor determining their lives: in §26 Philo writes “they keep the memory of God alive and never forget it, so that even in their dreams there is nothing else but the loveliness of divine excellences and powers.” Philo suggests that the Therapeutae are always thinking about God and God’s goodness: they are like passionate lovers who have eyes for no one else but their beloved. It is no wonder that this passionate love, the connection with seeing God, and the insistence on “the good,” are woven together here, for all are wrapped up in the word θεωρετικός of the title of the treatise. The word θεωρέω—designed as an alternative to “active” or “practical” in terms of a philosophical lifestyle—means fundamentally “see, behold, look at”: the contemplative Therapeutae are like a lover beholding the longed-for beloved, i.e., Being. Sight and seeing repeat constantly

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in the treatise to reflect how this group focus on God in various ways (§§ 1, 29, 58, 64, 67, 68, 78, 90; see Deutsch 2006, 293–295). (§14) Hellenes sing the praises of Anaxagoras and Democritus The “Hellenes” are the opposition, in this treatise, who are implied as having presented examples of philosophical greatness in terms of the contemplative life. They “sing praises” (ἄδουσιν, in the present tense) of Anaxagoras and Democritus, as having no concern with material things. Such models are presented by Plutarch and others (e.g., Plutarch, Per. 16, Cicero, Tusc. 5.39.114–115, Fin. 5.29.87, cf. Horace, Ep. 112.12–13; see Grilli 2002, 25–26; Koskenniemi 2019, 94–95). Anaxagoras of Clazomenae (c. 500–428 BCE) was a philosopher of the physical world, interested in physics and astronomy (Plutarch, Fac. 929B; Nic. 23). Philo uses him elsewhere as an example of someone who endured hardship in order to contemplate the night sky (Aet. 4). The tradition that he gave up his considerable property is mentioned by Plutarch (Per. 16), and by Diogenes Laertius (Lives 2.6–7): “He was eminent for wealth and noble birth, and furthermore for magnanimity, in that he gave up his patrimony to his relations. for, when they accused him of neglecting it, he replied, ‘Why then do you not look after it?’ and at last he went into retirement and engaged in physical investigation without troubling himself about public affairs” (transl. Hicks, LCL 9:138). This is not quite the story Philo records, but it has some similarities. The relatives approach Anaxagoras after his cultivated property is abandoned (and grazed by sheep?), and only then obtain it. Plato (in Hippias major 283a) states that “People say [of] Anaxagoras: he inherited a large sum, but lost everything through neglect—there was so little intelligence in his wisdom.” This implies neglect of his property. In Philostratus’s Life of Apollonius of Tyana 1.13 it is said of Anaxagoras that “he kept his philosophy for cattle rather than for men when he abandoned his fields to flocks and goats,” and thus Apollonius bestows his property on relatives (transl. Colson PLCL 9:35). This indicates too some critique of his action. Philo mentions Anaxagoras in the same way in Prov., as preserved in the Armenian version (see PLCL 9:120 a; Aucher 1822, 52). In regard to Democritus of Abdera (c. 460–370BCE), his priority as the founding model of the contemplative life has been explored by Grilli (2002), who has looked to Panaetius for the development of his example. He can be mentioned with Anaxagoras (e.g., Cicero, Tusc. 5.39.114–115, Fin. 5.29.87; though for a negative perspective see Horace, Ep. 112.12–13; Conybeare 1895, 204). Diogenes Laertius (Lives 9.34–36) identifies him as a pupil of “Magians and Chaldaeans,” learning “theology and astronomy” (34). He notes that he had met Anaxagoras, though they did not get on (35), before travelling to Egypt, learning “geometry from the priests,” and then going on wider travels. He also

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mentions that Democritus “being the third son … divided the family property. Most authorities will have it that he chose the smaller portion, which was in money, because he had need of this to pay the cost of travel; besides, his brothers were crafty enough to foresee that this would be his choice. [36] Demetrius estimates his share at over 100 talents, the whole of which he spent. His industry, says the same author, was so great that he cut off a little room in the garden round the house and shut himself up there” (Hicks, LCL 445). Mention of Demetrius refers to the 1st-century writer Demetrius of Magnesia, who apparently wrote a popular book titled “On Poets and Authors of the Same Name” (Περὶ ὁμωνύμων ποιητῶν καὶ συγγραφέων). Philo refers to Democritus in Aet. 8 as ascribing to the belief in successive worlds and he can present his abandoning of property positively (Prov. 2.13). He was a man who needed nothing and lived a life of poverty (Prov. 2.24; Plant. 65; Mut. 146, cf. Cicero, Tusc. 5.91, see Koskenniemi 2019, 95–96). Socrates himself was one who abandoned material things and neglected his household (Plato, Apol. 9b–c, 18b; cf. Diogenes Laertius, Lives 2.20, 25), though this seems to have been seen as more of an attitude of mind than determined neglect. because, smitten with yearning for philosophy Note the repetition of the word “yearning” (ἵμερος, found in § 13, cf. § 75). This word joins others in the passage that emphasize the yearning, longing, craving, and passion felt by true philosophers for Wisdom, especially the word ζηλόω, “seek” (§§1, 24, 48, 70, 82), ζῆλος, “seeking,” “craving” (§§ 32, 68). they gave up their holdings to become grazed by sheep As noted this particular story is not quite found reflected in other extant sources. Here τὰς οὐσίας means not so much “belongings” but “holdings” in that the implication is of cultivated fields that should not been eaten by grazing animals. Sheep have been allowed to graze on agricultural lands. In both cases, the philosophers are well-off. I too admire the men myself, in becoming superior to yearning for possessions. But how much better are those people not allowing the animals to graze on their properties Philo concedes an admiration for both Anaxagoras and Democritus (which is why he could use their examples positively elsewhere in his writings, see above). To detach oneself from material possessions is agreed upon as a good thing. However, this kind of carelessness with resources that could be used for human need is here presented negatively for polemical reasons. A simple

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detachment from property, in an individualistic way, without concern for others, is not the mark of a wise philosopher. Note though that it is not recommended that property be given to the poor of the city or outside one’s own circle of family and acquaintances, as if personal judgement is used in selecting who receives the benefit of one’s property. Ultimately, however, the wealth they receive is not the true wealth that has just been mentioned, and human need is actually quite basic. In Virt. 6 Philo says that no one lacks the wealth of Nature, which cannot be taken from them, namely air, water, crops and fruit: “These no one lacks, but everybody everywhere has an ample and more than ample sufficiency.” In Contempl. 16 Philo will present this divesting of property to relatives and friends as a win-win situation. but, after setting right the human needs of relatives or friends, they have even revealed them as well-resourced, instead of unresourced? This term ἀποφήναντες should mean they were “displaying” or “revealing” (active Aorist participle of ἀποφαίνω, LSJ 225), but Conybeare translates this as “raising.” The καί here appears to be emphatic, thus “even” or “really.” For a similar expression to ἐξ ἀπόρων εὐπόρους, see Abr. 232; ἐξ may be read as “instead of” rather than “from,” so LSJ 498 (2. of place). The inheritors of the wealth are now people who appear to everyone else as being well-resourced, which is a good thing. They do not have to struggle owing to the life decisions of the philosophers. For that action [of Anaxagoras and Democritus] was inconsiderate—lest I say the action of men whom Greece has admired was “mad”—but this action [of the Therapeutae] is sober and is executed exactly. Here τὸ ἔργον means “the action,” rather than “the work” and its sense needs repeating in the translation with the demonstrative pronouns ἐκεῖνο and τοῦτο. The people who act inconsiderately may also be described as μανιῶδες, “mad,” and are contrasted with the Therapeutae whose action is νηφάλιον, “sober” (cf. § 74). That is quite a charged word in view of what will come later in the treatise about the group’s ecstatic vigil. Indeed, having just described the Therapeutae as being somewhat like Bacchic worshippers or Corybants, it is the great philosophers Anaxagoras and Democritus who are in danger of being called “mad”; the irony is keen. with exceptional sound judgement “Sound judgement,” φρονήσις, is a key term in ancient philosophy, and important in Philo’s understanding. It occurs frequently in Philo’s work, and will appear again in §31, describing the talk of the most senior person. This sound

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judgement might not be a simple case of charity to relatives and friends, but may also indicate a subtle contract is being made between the recipients and those who live solitary lives of contemplation. One would expect that those in receipt of property from those who go out to live away from them will feel a debt of gratefulness and supply them with basic needs. Since the Therapeutae are presented as having no work to support themselves, the support of an outside community may be implied (Taylor and Davies 1998). Overall in §§12–14 the template of the Two Ways underlies what is said, and one may add to the categories already defined the binary oppositions of the following:

Truth

Falsehood

seeing wealth blind wealth §§12–13 judging soundly/sober inconsiderate/mad §14

(§15) What do war-enemies do worse than cut down the crops and trees in the land of their opponents, so that, lacking the necessities of life, they are compelled to surrender? This was a common practice to cut down trees in ancient siege warfare, but it is expressly forbidden in Deut. 20:19 (see Philo, Spec. 4.226–229; Virt. 149–154). Josephus notes how when the Romans laid siege to Jerusalem they cut down all the gardens and trees for miles around the city (B.J. 5.522–526). Democritus is now shown to have neglected his holdings, in an irresponsible, indeed completely vicious, way. People like Democritus have crafted this for those related by blood, bringing down handmade want and hunger on them Here Democritus and others like him have created (ειργάσαντο) pieces of handmade craftwork for Democritus’s relatives, namely want and hunger. These are the very things that are the work of enemies in a time of war. Anyone who copies this negligence of property does terrible things to family, inflicting on them a completely disastrous situation. The verbs are in plural, indicating the actions of not only Democritus but others who emulate him. For further, see comments above on §14.

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not perhaps from bad intentions but by not foreseeing and considering what is advantageous to others In whatever example has been provided by the Hellenes, they do not suggest calamity to blood relatives by malicious or bad intentions (ἐξ ἐπιβουλῆς), but they nevertheless do this out of a lack of foresight. This passage clearly suggests that Philo is consciously addressing an alternative example of philosophical excellence provided by the Hellenes, and here he is politely—perhaps humorously—deriding it. (§16) How much better then are those people who are really to be admired, having no fewer impulses for philosophy, preferring magnanimity to carelessness and giving away their material goods, yet not wasting them, in order that both others and themselves will benefit: the others by ungrudging generosity; themselves in the work of philosophy? The translation here is dependent on a reading of ἵνα as consecutive, and thus is read as “in order that” (PLCL 9:122–123). Overall, from § 14 through to § 16 it feels like Philo is really labouring the point that detachment from one’s usual work and possessions should be done in a way that benefits family and friends, not in a way that is in any way harmful. It implies there has been an example that indicates that Democritus and Anaxagoras were exemplary in their material detachments, as models for the group that have been held up as the prime model of excellence on the Hellene side. In Porphyry, Abst. 4.6.3 the Egyptian priests are said to go to live in temples after “having renounced all other occupation and human labour.” In §16 Philo insists that the Therapeutae display the same impulse (ὁρμή) for philosophy as did Democritus, and determination to be rid of material possessions. But they are better examples in the way they do this. This has the obvious value of pointing to their superior prudence and philanthropy. The implication is that material possessions are bothersome, timeconsuming, hamper the full-throttle concentration on philosophy sought by the Therapeutae. But material possessions are not intrinsically evil, and the recipients of the property of the Therapeutae have every reason to be grateful since for them those materials things are beneficial. Philo adds that giving away their resources also benefits the Therapeutae ἐν τῷ φιλοσοφεῖν, translated here as “in the work of philosophy” but reading the Greek infinitive as English gerund, literally “in the (work of) philosophizing.” Precisely how does their giving away of possessions promote their work in philosophy? The one way Philo mentions in §16 is that they save time by not having to worry about money. In § 17 he will add that anxiety about the means of life and money-making breeds injustice. The Therapeutae are set free from money worries, and yet some financial system must undergird their communal life.

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It does not seem far-fetched to infer that Philo at least opens the door to letting his readers understand that the Therapeutae have given away their assets in such a prudent way that they do not thereafter have to concern themselves about material things. It seems likely that in many cases at least the receivers of their property have promised, perhaps even by legal contract committed themselves, to provide for the meagre material needs of the Therapeutae. At the same time, it is also worth noting that the Therapeutae, on Philo’s report, are concerned not only with philosophy but with the welfare of their family and friends. Their love of their closest neighbours is exemplary, whereas Democritus and Anaxagoras were indifferent to their nearest and dearest. Later on Philo will emphasize the family-like affection that binds the young and old members of the community. The juniors display care one would expect among those “closer than those of blood” (§72). In §§14–16 Philo indicates that the Therapeutae are not hostile or indifferent towards blood relatives and friends outside their community. They are not misanthropic (§20). For the cares of belongings and possessions consume time. Time is a good thing to care about, since, according to the doctor Hippocrates: “Life is short, but the Art is long.” See Textual Note for the reading “time” in the first sentence of this translation. While Philo can scorn the example of Anaxagoras and Democritus, he is happy to use the famous quote from the father of medicine Hippocrates (c. 460–c. 370BCE) which begins his Aphorisms (1.1 [4.458.3]), in full being: “Life is short, the Art [of medicine] long, opportunity fleeting, experiment treacherous, judgement difficult” (Winston 1981, 316). Philo cites Hippocrates also in Opif. 105 and 124, and in Somn. 1.10 repeats the aphorism without accreditation. One should not really drop the definite article, as that would imply “Art” in a somewhat different, modern, sense. As Winston and Colson (PLCL 9:123) note, the Art indicated by Hippocrates is the art of medicine. However, here this well-known saying is applied to philosophy, when medicine was understood as a branch of philosophy. By doing this, Philo also reminds us of the fact that the Therapeutae are those commanding a “medical art” ἰαρτρική better than any found in cities §2; Philo refers to “the doctor Hippocrates,” τὸν ἰατρὸν Ἱπποκράτην, linking the medical skill that caters to the physical body with the medical skill that caters to the soul. A similar saying is attributed to Rabbi Tarfon: “the day is short, and the task is great” (m. Avot. 2:15).

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(§17) It seems to me that Homer also was hinting at this in the Iliad The Aorist infinitive of αἰνίσσομαι, “hint”, seems to indicate past intention here, translated by English gerund, and is identified by Hernandez (2014, 143) as indicating allegorical exegesis, since Philo often uses an etymological analysis as his point of departure. Philo refutes the “example” of Anaxagoras and Democritus by using further authorities valued by the Hellenes, confidently claiming a clear understanding of Homer. Mention of Homer at this point is striking, given that Philo has stated at the beginning of the treatise (§ 1) that poets tend to improve on the truth by artfulness, not following good practices. However, while Philo can be slightly pejorative about the value of poets overall at times (Opif. 157; Spec. 1.28–30; 2.164; Gig. 58), he holds Homer in high esteem. He was familiar with the Stoic method of allegorizing Homer as a method of cutting to the heart of wisdom, as may be seen in the work of the 1st-century grammarian Heraclitus, Quaestiones Homericae 43 (Dawson 1992, 38–52; Sandmel 1979, 19–21; Dillon 1994), who traced his allegorical approach to the Stoic Crates (2nd century BCE). Philo’s predecessor Aristobulus could also allegorize Homer (Winston 1985, 205). Philo positively cites Homeric texts over 60 times, mentioning Homer by name five times, in this passage, and also in Conf. 4; Abr. 10; Prob. 31 and Leg. 80–82. He is “the greatest and most recognized of the poets” (Conf. 4), who could be employed in support of his own biblical and philosophical interpretations (Berthelot 2011; Niehoff 2011a; 2012; Hernández 2014; Roskam 2017). This is the only place in Philo’s extant works when he explicitly mentions the Iliad (see Hernández 2014 for a full discussion). Likewise, in § 40, this is the only time Philo mentions Odysseus (i.e. the Odyssey). Appealing to Homer was particularly canny, since in Alexandria there was a temple to him established in the late 3rd century BCE by Ptolemy IV Philopator and queen Arsinoë. In a relief from this temple, now in the British Museum, the apotheosis of Homer is shown. Arsinoë is identified as Oikoumene (the world) and Ptolemy with Chronos (time).1 For further on the importance of Homer in Graeco-Egyptian cult see the Introduction (p. 18). at the beginning of the thirteenth canto, through these words: The word ῥαψῳδία, translated “canto” may also be translated “rhapsody,” though this has a different musical association in the contemporary world. Philo pro-

1 An image of this relief (British Museum GR 1819,0812.1) is available online at the British Museum website at: http://www.bmimages.com/resultsframe.asp?image=00098405003&sto ckindexonline.com=1.

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vides a very precise citation of the Iliad 13.5–6, which adopts the same system and terminology indicated in the fragments of Philo’s predecessor in Alexandria, Aristonicus (De signis Iliadis/Odysseae), preserved in the scholia of the Venetus A manuscript of Homer’s Iliad (see Hernández 2014, 140).2 These are the divisions still used today. The origins of this system have been traced to 3rd– 2nd century Alexandrian scholars Zenodotus or Aristarchus (see Daumas and Miquel 1963, 88). “Mysians, fighting hand to hand, and noble mare-milk drinkers —just milk-eaters without livelihood, they are the most righteous persons”. The quotation does not immediately furnish an obvious relevance, but scholia on the Iliad mention several interpretations (see Roskam 2017, 11–13). Colson (PLCL 9:123) notes that Philo interprets ἀβίων to indicate that the “mare-milk drinkers” (Ἱππημολγῶν) lack the normal means of life. In English translation then they are “unlivelihooded” or properly “without livelihood” (see Winston 1981, 316; Graffigna 1992, 110–111). This Homeric model of the Dacian or Scythian nomads is found also in Strabo, Geog. 7.3.9, citing Ephorus: Ephorus, in the fourth book of his history, the book entitled Europe (for he made the circuit of Europe as far as the Scythians), says towards the end that the modes of life both of the Sauromatae and of the other Scythians are unlike, for, whereas some are so cruel that they even eat human beings, others abstain from eating any living creature whatever. Now the other writers, he says, tell only about their savagery, because they know that the terrible and the marvellous are startling, but one should tell the opposite facts too and make them patterns of conduct, and he himself, therefore, will tell only about those who follow “most just” habits, for there are some of the Scythian Nomads who feed only on mare’s milk, and excel all men in justice; and they are mentioned by the poets: by Homer, when he says that Zeus espies the land “of the Galactophagi and Abii, men most just” …3 Here, Strabo reads the passage from the Iliad differently to Philo, in seeing the word ἀβίων as indicating a tribe. However, in the fragments of Nicolaus of Damascus,4 he defines the “Milk-eaters” (Γαλακτοφάγοι) as a nomadic Scythian tribe 2 For the scholia, see Aristonici, ed. Friedländer. 3 Quoted from Strabo, ed. Jones, LCL III, 205. 4 This fragment of Nicolaus of Damascus is from Joannes Stobaeus, Anth. 5: 73: 3–6, see ed. Dindorf, i. 1–153, at 145:7–146:8, cf. 72:29–73:8 where the quote is used again.

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who only drink mare-milk: they have communal ownership of possessions, and wives, and are very just. Nicolaus specifically quotes exactly the same passage from Homer as Philo, and defines that Homer uses the term ἀβίων either because they do not work the land, or have ancestral land, or else also because they do not use bows (a bow being a βιός). The context of the passage is not of concern to Philo, but rather what it states about a lifestyle of simplicity and justice. Philo takes the passage to mean that justice goes with not busying oneself with money-making, which he evidently takes their reliance on milk alone to indicate. In the context of the Iliad, Zeus is turning his eyes away from the bitter battle of Trojans and Greeks to consider these Mysians, who are perfectly just. Yet Homer says they are also hand-to-hand fighters. This is also a kind of “simple”, perhaps even “equal” way of fighting, that would then also appear just. As he develops his ideas in § 17, Philo links justice with equality and unconcern for material things. Whereas hurrying about life and money-making produces injustice through inequality, the opposite practice produces righteousness in respect to equality, according to which the wealth of Nature is divided up, and it surpasses the “wealth” found in empty suppositions. Philo uses the noun σπουδή, “haste”, “hurrying around”, which creates a visualization of someone frantically distracted and anxious, running around to deal with matters of life and “money-making”, or “the business of acquiring of wealth” (χρηματισμόν). This means that keen concerns about the means for living and money-making on the one hand are the genesis of injustice. Living on mare’s milk implies a simple lifestyle not concerned with the acquisition of wealth. The concern with “equality” (ἰσότης) is reflected later on in the treatise in §70, when Philo states that “the vices and greeds of some who crave the source of evil, inequality (ἀνισότητα), have imposed a yoke and have fastened to the more powerful the strength over those who are weaker.” This comment is important for acknowledging the equality that we find in the group between men and women, and there are no slaves here either, though there is still a hierarchy of wisdom among the Therapeutae, in that everyone knows their place within an ordering that is based on merit as the group defines it. As for “empty suppositions”, Winston (1981, 316) points out that κενὴ δόξα or κενοδοξία is an Epicurean term (KD 15, 29, 30) and is an expression frequently used by Philo (Mut. 94–96; Migr. 19, 21; Ios. 36; Legat. 114; Praem. 100; Virt. 7; Somn. 1.255; 2.47–62; QG 3.47). Nature here connotes truth. In Virt. 6 Philo speaks of the wealth of Nature as the wealth nature gives (equally) to all persons (see PLCL 9:123 e). The wealth of empty opinion here is thus linked with material possessions, not simply vain

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ideas. Vanity and inequality and money-making go together. Following Nature’s true wealth and freedom means you need to stop running around and worrying about making money, a practice that also leads to injustice, since differences in wealth achieved by some are contrary to Nature. As Zeus looked away for a time from the ordinary violence of the Trojan War to delight in the peaceable Mysians, so Philo urges his readers to look away from the ordinary world of money-grubbing, anxiety, and injustice to contemplate a community wholly free from such evils. As he moves to his conclusion on this topic, he argues (without bothering to list all his presuppositions) that concern about money and property is incompatible with true righteousness/justice, δικαιοσύνη. This aligns with equality, which is the way Nature divides up (ὤρισται) her wealth for all. Philo insists that this kind of justice is symbolically described by Homer and literally realized by the Therapeutae. The Two Ways template therefore continues on here through §§ 16 and 17 on the subject of property:

Truth

Falsehood

magnanimity/generosity care about time righteousness/justice equality wealth of Nature

carelessness §16 squander time §16 injustice §17 inequality §17 wealth in empty glories § 17

B

Location §§18–23

In §§18–20, although Philo begins by mentioning the abandonment of property, the main concern is the separation from family and friends. If property can “ensnare,” other people with whom one has been close can exercise great influence that would “trap” the Therapeutae if they did not break free. Not only do the Therapeutae abandon possessions and family and friends, they also abandon city-living and reside in solitary places where they associate only with like-minded persons. The sentence that forms §21 provides an acknowledgement of dispersion within the subject of location (§§18–23), which has affirmed that the Therapeutae leave their homes in order to go to live in cultivations and smallholdings (§§18–20). Philo then notes that the ministering type of people (so § 11), is

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found all over the world, but in §§22–23 he states that the “best” of such people move to a particular place by Lake Mareotis. Detailed Comments (§18) When then they get rid of all belongings They are not described as bringing their belongings into a community fund, but rather they leave their belongings behind with their families and friends (see § 16). This is distinctly different to what Philo describes the Essenes as doing. In Prob. 77 the Essenes are described as “moneyless” and “property-less,” but this is because they share their houses, dwell in communities (Prob. 85), have a common fund and disbursements, share clothes and food through common meals, and pool their wages (Prob. 86). Even costs of medical treatment are paid communally (Prob. 87). Likewise, in the Hypothetica, Philo writes: “None by any means continues to possess his own things altogether—neither a house, nor a slave, nor a plot of land, nor herds (of cattle or sheep), nor anything other provided and furnished by wealth—but all things are placed publicly in common at once, everyone reaping the benefits” (Hypoth. 11.4). A common fund of resources like this was already advocated by Plato for the guardians of the city (Resp. 3.416d, 5.462c) and was an example set by the Pythagoreans (Iamblichus, Vita Pythag. 167–169); it was clearly a model to which the early Christians adhered (Acts 5:1–11; see Taylor 2012, 35, 42; Justin Taylor 2001). However, what we have described among the Therapeutae is a divesting of possessions rather than a sharing: the actual resources here are extremely minimal, and may have even been provided by benefactors, for all we know. ensnared by nothing further, they flee, without turning The language here indicates that wealth and possessions, and family attachments, are all traps, and they are freed from these things. The metaphor is continued in the language of catching a fish by bait, given the familiar being the “greatest in its power to catch,” δελεάσαι δυνατώτατον. The same thought is expressed in Praem. 17–18, concerning Enoch (Gen 5:24 LXX), where someone who has come to despise pleasures and desires, rejecting the passions, is “fleeing without turning from home, homeland, relatives and friends. For familiarity is an attraction …” As Daumas and Miquel (1963, 90) point out, the model of this migration from the world is Abraham (see Migr.). For further, see Virt. 213–214; Leg. 2.85.

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leaving aside siblings, children, wives, parents, numerous relatives, friendly companions The list of people left behind includes “wives” here, when Philo has indicated that the people he describes are both male and female. In avoiding mention of husbands, Philo ensures that the women he will discuss are not configured negatively as abandoning their husbands and children. For men to do so, while furnishing them still with all worldly goods, seems to have been a more acceptable model, given the pitfalls of the negative ways women in philosophy were configured (Taylor 2003, 173–226), and this picks up on an androcentricism already shown in §1. Later on Philo will present the women as being “mostly elderly virgins” (§78) which again counters any suggestion that women may have left husbands or children. It is noteworthy that the men are said to have had children, which probably means they are envisaged as being relatively mature in years and not young and unmarried. The order with which the relatives are mentioned is striking: wives come after brothers and children. It is possible that the reference may be broader than “wives” alone, since the word γυναί can refer more widely to women, thus “women of the house,” though “wives” would be the most obvious meaning. In terms of the other examples Philo challenges, Chaeremon describes the Egyptian priests leaving their families, in the periods of purification and fasting, though not forever; rather, “at the time of what they called ‘holiness’, they did not associate with their closest kin and compatriots” (Porphyry, Abst. 4.6; transl. Clark 2000, 104). The model of leaving the family for the sake of an ideal is found similarly in the tradition of Jesus’s sayings: in Luke 14:26: “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple”; here likewise there is a male disciple in view. However, in Matthew 10:37 the order is: father, mother, son, daughter, and wives are not mentioned, making it more gender inclusive. In Praem. 17–19 Philo sees any person who renounces the passions as fleeing from their home and family order to welcome solitude (see Winston 1981, 317, n. 12). In this case there is no notion that they are specifically distinctive as a group, but rather this is the result of a philosophical choice. Likewise, Abraham left his homeland (Virt. 213–214). Philo states, “I have often myself left relatives, friends and country to come to the wilderness, to reflect on something worthy of contemplation” (Leg. 2.85). The idea of fleeing from the world to a life of philosophy was a common trope; see for further Graffigna (1992, 111). This concept of leaving behind family is also found in terms of the Jesus tradition, but here there is something much more radical. In Mark 10:29–30, Jesus states: “Truly I tell you, no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive

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a hundred times as much in this present age: homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields … and in the age to come eternal life” (cf. Matt 19:29: “everyone who has left their homes, brothers, sisters, father, mother, children, or fields because of my name will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life”). See above (p. 159). It might appear that there are certainly practical ramifications one might consider in this scenario. Does Philo mean that the male Therapeutae take legal steps to abandon all obligations to their wives? There is no indication they are divorced. What legal steps might have been involved in giving up any responsibility for one’s children or parents? Does Philo mean to imply that the Therapeutae provided for their “nearest and dearest” by leaving them property and other financial resources? He does not say this explicitly, though it seems a natural inference from §§13–14. However, in Leg. 2.85 Philo himself states that he has “frequently left aside people who are related, and friends, homeland, going to solitude, in order to turn my mind to something worthy of contemplation.” He does not specifically state that he himself had a wife or children, but it is possible. This is a striking correlation to what he writes here in Contempl. It suggests that Philo himself left his home and family in Alexandria in order to have periods of solitude away. In other words, Philo in Contempl. may not actually even be indicating there is a permanent situation among all those he describes as following the contemplative life. the home towns in which they were born and raised, since the familiar attraction is indeed greatest in its power to catch. It is not just Alexandria that is left behind, since the “home towns” (τὰς πατρίδας) are in the plural, and referred back to by πᾶσα πόλις, “every town.” The same term, πατρίς, is used in §22 (cf. 47) to refer to the place they head towards: a true home as opposed to a physical one in which they were actually born and raised. They are described here as detaching themselves from anything that would create an attachment to the world. In Philo’s usage the word πατρίς refers not only to a native land but to anywhere that people have founded colony settlements, with Jerusalem remaining the μητρόπολις for Jews (Conf. 78; Fug. 94; Somn. 1.41, 181; Legat. 203, 281); Jerusalem can simply be referred to as “the metropolis” (Legat. 294, 305, 334). Thus, the home towns in which they have been born and raised would appropriately refer to the towns of Jews living in the Diaspora in Egypt.

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(§19) They move not to another city, like those people seeking a sale away from those who have possessed them—unfortunate or bad slaves procuring an exchange of masters for themselves, not procuring freedom— The preposition παρὰ with the Genitive τῶν κεκκτημένων would indicate a movement away from being beside something (see LSJ 1302: A). Here the image is of slaves trying to be sold to someone else, which Philo nuances by typifying them as unfortunate or bad slaves seeking an exchange of masters, rather than seeking to procure freedom. It does nevertheless indicate quite a proactive approach from slaves (for further see Garnsey 1996, 157–172). Plutarch (Superst. 166d) notes that slaves can request to be sold in markets to get kinder masters. The image of a bad slave is also found in Abr. 229; here they are slaves who attack their master. The problem with the slaves is that they fail to seek the only honourable goal, freedom. This is what the Therapeutae obtain, living a life free from any hint of the shame of slavery; see §§70–72, where Philo applies the term “free” (ἐλεύθερος), to the Therapeutae three times. The problem with slavery is not that some slaves have bad masters; the problem lies in anyone being enslaved, regardless of the quality of the masters. Of course the general picture Philo draws is of Therapeutae who come from a pool of people socially and economically far removed from slavery; they appear to all come from well-to-do homes where they have received a high level of education and accumulated or preserved considerable amounts of capital. Philo here seems to speak like a member of a slave-holding class who despises slaves because they fail to seek or obtain freedom. Changing masters is too trivial a thing to warrant anything more than contempt. Philo does not stop to consider how hard or impossible it might have been for many slaves to gain their freedom. He uses desperate slaves as an example of their moral insufficiency as if they should really have persevered in seeking their freedom rather than asking for a change of ownership. because every city, even the best-governed, is full of noises and unspeakable disturbances, See Textual Note. In Prob. 76 Philo begins his description of the Essenes by saying that they live in villages “and avoid the cities because of the iniquities which have become inveterate among city dwellers, for they know that their company would have a deadly effect upon their own souls, like a disease brought by a pestilential atmosphere.” In villages they seek out crafts that work towards peace, benefitting the people who live close by. However, in the Hypothetica 11.1 Philo writes that the Essenes live in “many cities of Judaea and many villages,” as also attested in Josephus, B.J. 2.124. It would seem that he corrected

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himself in the latter work, but expressed more of his own view of the dangers of cities in the former. The paradigm of the city versus the country was long established (Plato, Phaedr. 227e–230e). For Philo cities are full of evils, especially pride (Decal. 2– 17). Negative aspects of cities mentioned in Philo’s works include their sexual licence (Det. 99, 178, cf. Spec. 3.37) and their impious and godless people (Ebr. 78–79). In Abr. 20–23 Philo writes how the righteous man rejects the evil of the city, not because he is a misanthrope, but stays home or leaves the city to live in a country retreat for the sake of philosophy (see Runia 2000, 365, 370). In §19 Philo speaks more directly about the dangers of city life. Cities, he says, laying down a generalization as though it is a truism beyond discussion, are full of trouble and tumult. No wise person or anyone even once inspired by wisdom can endure city-living. Moreover, to live in a city is to dwell in the vicinity of people whose values are opposed to those of the Therapeutae and thus expose oneself to contacts and conversations that can only be aggravating and deleterious. Presumably these unpleasant contact partners include the relatives and former close friends the Therapeutae have cheerfully and completely broken off ties with. There is some irony here in Philo’s critique of the city because he was in many ways a homo urbanus, “accustomed to living in the hubbub of a large city,” as Runia (2000, 363) has noted. He could elsewhere present an ideal city as well-governed (Opif. 16–18, see Runia 1989; 2000, 364–367), but also lament the maelstrom of political life (Spec. 3.1–6). If he read this treatise in Rome, a comment on the nature of the city would also reference his perception of the heart of the Empire. In this, he could appeal also to a Roman audience who could view the city negatively (see Juvenal’s Third Satire). Varro (Rust. 2.1–2) admires men who only live in the city one day a week, and otherwise live in a country villa. which a person once led by Wisdom would not endure There is use of ἄν with the Aorist infinitive here, ὑπομεῖναι, which creates an emphatic sense that a truly Wisdom-led person simply cannot endure the city. The person concerned has been led by Wisdom (Sophia) in the city, and then found the noises and disturbances of the city intolerable. The image created is one of a woman, a beloved, leading a man. Wisdom/Sophia, conceptualized in this anthropomorphic way, is the foundation of all those who are “lovers of Wisdom.” Thus, there is the masculine identity of those who have left the city—as well as family and friends and so on—in order to follow her. They are in a sense captivated by Wisdom/Sophia. Philo will return to the relationship with Wisdom/Sophia in §68, at which point he concerns himself with the

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women of the group cohabiting with Wisdom. Here there is a sense of Wisdom leading the men: they are not quite “married” to Wisdom like Solomon (Wis 8:2, 16, 18), but they delight in her, like besotted lovers, when she appears again in this treatise at §35 (and see §68). Wisdom somewhat relates to the Logos/Word in Philo’s writings, in that Sophia is essentially the daughter of God (Fug. 52) just as the Logos is the son of God (Conf. 63). She is the first-born daughter and mother of the universe in QG 4.97. Philo quotes Wis 8:22–30 in which Wisdom states that the Lord “established me before the ages, in the beginning, before he made the earth” (and see Ebr. 31; Virt. 62). The cosmos can be understood to be the child of Wisdom, born of her, “the mother and nurse of all” (Ebr. 30–31; Fug. 109; see Hengel 2007, 51–52; Winston 1985). (§20) But outside city-walls they spend their time The expression ποιοῦνται τὰς διατριβὰς is idiomatic in Philo meaning either “making their occupations,” “spending their time,” or “making their abodes” (cf. Sacr. 24; Post. 173; Sobr. 67; Congr. 81; Fug. 202; Somn. 1.68; Abr. 23; Ios. 118; Spec. 2.44, 119; Flacc. 177): LSJ 416 provides a range of meanings for διατριβή, literally a “rubbing through.” To live outside a city is to live outside the walls, just as being “outside the gate” means the same thing. In early Christian literature we find this in Heb 13:12–14, which states that, as Jesus was executed “outside the gate,” so Christians are obligated to “go forth to him outside the camp and bear the abuse he endured,” knowing that “here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city which is to come.” In Heb 11:13–16 persons of faith live as “strangers and exiles on the earth” because they seek a homeland (patris) in heaven where God has prepared for them a city. Cities like first-century Alexandria had high walls for protection again military threats, and the city wall of Alexandria is specifically mentioned by Arrian, Anabasis 3.1.5, Tacitus, Hist. 4.83.1 and Diodorus Siculus, Bibl. 17.52, the latter attributing the laying out of the wall to Alexander the Great (Grimm 1996, 56–57). To live outside a city was thus, among other things, to be more exposed to attacks from robbers or others, a subject to which Philo will soon turn. in cultivations or smallholdings We are given the impression here of a location in cultivated land rather than wilderness. The “ministers” are in fertile places, and one thinks of country villas. The word μοναγρία is a single allotment, or smallholding. Both Daumas and Miquel 1963, 90 and Graffigna 1992, 113 note how rare a word it is, though it occurs in Alciphron, Ep. 2.2.7; the singularity and aloneness may be emphas-

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ised, in line with the use of such words as μοναστήριον (§ 20) or μονούμενοι (§ 30), and for further see Graffigna 1992, 113–115. In Abr. 22–23 Philo presents this lifestyle of going out to the country as being what an ἀστεῖος—literally a “towny,” but meaning an elite, refined person in Philo’s work—would indeed do in order to pursue philosophy (see above). He imagines a particular man who, “having acquired a longing for an uncomplicated life”, would seclude himself at home or else, because of too many visitors, would leave: “going off outside the city he spends his time in a smallholding (ἔξω πόλεως προελθὼν ἐν μοναγρίᾳ ποιεῖται τὰς διατριβὰς ἤδιον)” where he studies the scriptures. This then illustrates a practice Philo has observed, or likely followed himself (see Introduction pp. 60–65). It implies that the people in question are a social elite, who are not only educated but have access to a country villa (see Taylor 2003, 93–99) In Contempl. 69 and 72 the Therapeutae are described as such ἀστεῖοι. They pursue solitude Here as elsewhere in this treatise a new sentence is created here in the translation for English style, in order to avoid long phrases linked by participles. The Therapeutae are serious about their pursuit of solitude (ἐρημία), a point that is made again in §24. They spend most of their time—six days of every week—living and pursuing wisdom in solitude in their individual houses (cf. § 89). They are happy to associate with others of their persuasion, but only at intervals on Sabbath days. For the most part they prefer to be left alone. In their withdrawal from the city to the countryside, the Therapeutae are distinguished from the Egyptian priests described by Chaeremon (quoted in Porphyry, Abst. 4.6.1) who are said to “have chosen temples as a place for engaging in philosophy” (but later on in the treatise Philo will play on the cultic aspects of their celebration in the symposion, and see Deutsch 2006). Philo’s description distinguishes the Therapeutae from the Essenes, who in Philo’s description do not separate themselves from non-Essenes, whether in villages or in cities, though they live in communities (see Introduction, pp. 58–60). not because of any hostile practice of misanthropy Philo insists that the Therapeutae are not hostile toward humanity in general, only to other human beings who do not share their values. Just because they leave society they are not misanthropic like Timon of Athens (see Plutarch, Ant. 70; Lucian of Samosata, Timon), or the Essenes in Pliny, Nat. 5.17.4, and in fact Philo will quickly proceed to explain how the Therapeutae at Lake Mareotis combine solitude and communal living. Graffigna (1992, 116) rightly points out that in fact the world outside Judaism could understand the Jews’ unwilling-

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ness to mix with others as a type of misanthropy: e.g., see Tacitus, Hist. 5.5.1; Diodorus Siculus, Bibl. 34.1.1–3; 40.3, citing Hecataeus, for which see the comprehensive examination by Berthelot (2003), as well as a specific analysis of Hecataeus (Berthelot 2008). There may well then be a defensive note struck here in terms of this accusation. Philo responds to the charge elsewhere in his later, Roman, Exposition of the Law, treatises (Spec. 2.167; Virt. 141, implicitly Virt. 50–174). but knowing the character of the mixture of unlike things to be unprofitable and harmful. While detailed comments on translation in this commentary are generally avoided, a few notes here are needed. The word ἐπιμιξία (mixture) in Philo’s works otherwise tends to be used in relation to intermarriage (Decal. 127; Spec. 3.25; 4.179), but can also refer to social mixing (Leg. 1.8). The adjectives ἀλυσιτελεῖς and βλαβεράς are plural, perhaps under the influence of the plural of τῶν ἀνομοίων, “the unlike things.” Colson (PLCL 9:124 a) notes that Conybeare’s phrasing, “the intercourse with and influence from persons” deals with the “curious preposition instead of the usual πρός with the accusative, as e.g., Decal. 127 [πρὸς ἄλλους ἐπιμιξίας]” and notes too that Conybeare suggests that ἐπιμιξία may carry a sense of contagion. But ἐκ, “of” or “from,” seems appropriate following ἦθος, “nature,” or “character”. Thus, Colson’s paraphrase “because they know how unprofitable and mischievous are associations with persons of dissimilar character” (PLCL 9:125) really seems too free. Philo is making a general point apply to the particular, and it is almost alchemical. Two unlike substances will create a character in their mixture that is not good. He does not primarily refer to two groups of unlike people, despite the defensive mention of misanthropy. The focus is the noisy city which is contrasted with (implicitly quiet) solitude in country villas. Loving the latter quality, a philosopher cannot mix it in with the former without creating a “character” of the mixture that is actually not just unprofitable but quite harmful, since, presumably, those who seek solitude will be frustrated and constrained; it is not about rejecting people at all. (§21) The type of people then [I describe] The expression τό γὲνος links back to the mention of τὸ θεραπευτικὸν γένος (§ 11). The word is used for a “type of people” also in §62, though in §§ 35 and 37 it is more generally “types.” Here it may seem that the specific topic relating to this type of person is movement away from home. By expressing limited admiration for Anaxagoras and Democritus “in becoming superior to yearning for possessions” (§14), Philo may also suggest that Greek philosophers could in

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principle belong to this “type.” They too would move from home to isolated areas. However, the indication of §11 is that we are to associate this type of people with those in §3 who are schooled from both Nature and the sacred laws (of Moses) to minister to Being, and this seems to make it clear that Philo is specifically discussing particular Jewish examples, as Nikipowetsky (1963; 1979; 1996, 34–36) has argued (contra Taylor and Davies 1998, 7–8; Taylor 2003, 76– 77). See further below. is in many parts of the inhabited world The genitive πολλαχοῦ … τῆς οἰκουμένης might indicate a derivation sense “from,” but the whole sentence implies “in.” The Therapeutae are not actually “from” many parts of the inhabited world. Nikiprowetzky observes that Philo eventually makes the Jewish identity of the Lake Mareotic community obvious (§§63–64) and argues that the nonextreme lifestyle of the Therapeutae is like that of all the Jews of Alexandria, who live simply and avoid luxury, as Flacc. 91 indicates. Hence Contempl. 21 might refer to the existence of Jews in general living in all parts of the known world (Nikiprowetzky 1996, 34–36). Nikiprowetzky refers to Sandmel’s argument that the Therapeutae illustrate many of the central themes of Abrahamic piety (Sandmel 1971, 194–196). Nikiprowetzky’s interpretation implies that all Jews are, in Philo’s view, “Therapeutae.” Graffigna, by contrast, thinks it unlikely that τό γένος in §21 refers to the entire Jewish people since then Philo would need to distinguish the Lake Mareotic group as a special type or “sect” within the larger Jewish community (Graffigna 1992, 117). Likewise, Daumas and Miquel (1963, 91–92) read γένος as equivalent to αἵρεσις, a “secte philosophique,” and see many Therapeutae communities, paralleling the Essenes of Judaea. It is clearly the case that even if Philo could characterize all Jews as devoted to the worship of one God and non-luxurious living, he could hardly suggest that all have abandoned private property or live outside cities. Nevertheless, Philo does attest that Jewish communities could be found not only in Egypt and Judaea but in all parts of the world (Flacc. 7, 43–48; Legat. 31, 214–216, 281–283, 330); it is a distinctive feature of Jews that they are spread out. Most importantly, Philo writes in Legat. 281 that while Jerusalem is his “mother city” (μητρόπολις) Jews are inhabitants of many colonies in Egypt, Phoenicia, Syria, Pamphylia, Cilicia, most of Asia to Bithynia, the corners of Pontus, into Europe, Thessaly, Boeotia, Macedonia, Aetolia, Attica, Argos, Corinth and the best parts of the Peloponnese, the islands of Euboea, Cyprus, Crete, countries beyond the Euphrates, and Babylon. Philo defines Alexandria as his πατρίς (Legat. 283) and argues that goodwill to Alexandria from Gaius will extend to

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all the other Jewish colonies also, “to multitudes of the others situated in every region of the inhabited world.” Thus, this idea of Jews being situated far and wide across the inhabited world seems to be suggested here. It would be very odd if—after the acerbic denunciation of any possible examples from the Graeco-Egyptian milieu that could rival the example of the Therapeutae (§§ 3–10, 14–15)—Philo then blandly noted that the perfect good was found in many parts of the inhabited world, by which he meant to include just such examples of Hellenic excellence he has just totally deflated. He must mean people who are not exemplars of the Hellenic philosophy of his opposition. He must mean Jews. Elsewhere, Philo can indeed concede that there are a few instances of people who are wise, just and decent within the wider world (Prob. 73–74) and defines them as philosophers of different cultures: seven philosophers of ancient Greece, the Persian magi, and the Indian “Gymnosophists” (naked sophists), here using common models (see Taylor 2003, 55–56). In this he is using a common trope we find also in Diogenes Laertius, Lives 1.1–11 (cf. 9.61–63): “some say the study of philosophy had its origins among the Barbarians”. Laertius cites: the Persian magi, the Babylonian and Assyrian “Chaldeans,” the Indian Gymnosophists and the Celtic and Gallic Druids. This notion is found in Aristotle’s Magicus and Sotion’s Succession of the Philosophers. Clement of Alexandria, (Strom. 1.71–73) contains a similar list. Strabo (Geogr. 15.1.59–60) cites Megasthenes’s Indika for his information on Indian philosophers: brahmins and Sarmanae (Pali: samana; Sanskrit: sramana, indicating non-brahminic ascetics, including Buddhists; see Bardesanes in Porphyry, Abst. 4:17–18). Philostratus, Vit. Apoll. (1–6) describes how the philosopher visits Persia and India, consulting with brahmins, and then visits Egyptian gymnosophists by the Nile. Philo himself reports that Alexander the Great met a gymnosophist in India (Prob. 92–97), probably called Calanus (Plutarch, Alex. 64–65), and here Philo can state that such “testimonies of the lives good men” (μάρτυρας βίους τῶν … ἀνδρῶν ἀγαθῶν) of other cultures provide evidence of the theme of Prob., the freedom of the good (Prob. 92). However, Prob. is a different treatise, and in terms of the flow of Contempl. the focus is very much on a Jewish example, a companion example to the previous one: the Essenes. It is only if we read the treatise in isolation, which was not as it was intended to be read (see §§1–2), that it is possible to understand this section as indicating that Philo is contradicting himself to say that there are indeed instances of the “perfect good” in the Graeco-Roman world as a whole, meaning non-Jews. One needs to jump forward from the identification in § 3 to the Jewish identity of the people in question, which is made unmistakably clear in §§63–64.

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Taking the treatise as a whole, Philo clearly aims at showing that the members of the Jewish community at Lake Mareotis have attained the highest level of human excellence and happiness, even though in § 21 he does not explicitly acknowledge their Jewishness. A measure of ambiguity may have been deliberate, to allow hearers/readers to think that “the type” in § 21 is not restricted to Jews and that the phrase “perfect goodness” implies nothing more than “genuine goodness.” But ultimately that would be a misunderstanding. for it was necessary for both the Greek and Barbarian worlds to partake of perfect good The true meaning here is found in this phrasing: καὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα καὶ τὴν βάρβαρον, “both the Greek and Barbarian”: singular adjectives with the implication of “world”. The verb μετασχεῖν is “to partake of” (μετέχω LSJ 1120) with the genitive, supplied by ἀγαθοῦ τελείου; ἔδει with accusative plus infinitive indicating “it was needful for … to” (LSJ 372). The “perfect good” (the philosophy of Moses) has been made accessible to both the Greek and Barbarian worlds, in many parts, and they can partake in it, without becoming Jews, but this does not mean they possess the perfect good. They are exposed to the perfect good by contact with the “type of people” described: they are not among the type of people described. They partake of it insofar as they too can learn how to become schooled in Nature and the sacred laws (§3) in some way, since Jews are called to be a light to the nations (see e.g., Isa 42:6). This does not then imply that a “sect” of the Therapeutae exists throughout the world, but rather that Jews exist throughout this world, and some of them are willing to leave cities and/or families to concentrate on a philosophical lifestyle. but it is abundant in Egypt in each of the so-called “nomes” and especially around Alexandria Philo used the adjective περί with the accusative to indicate “around” (LSJ 1366 C4, cf. 1367, E) rather than “in” (ἐν) Alexandria since he has indicated that this type of people know they should leave the city. The city of Alexandria, specifically mentioned here, nevertheless gives us the context now for everything that follows, as a central nucleus around which Jews are to be found in Egypt. Philo’s phrasing suggests that some of his readers may not be familiar with the term “nomes,” the regional divisions of Egypt. His primary intended audience then appears to be non-Egyptian, at the least, and the historical context most suits Rome. For further, see the Introduction (pp. 1–5). Strikingly, given this interpretation, Philo does not emphasize Judaea. However, it is quite likely that he has done this already in his discussion of the Essenes. These are located by him only in Syria Palestina/Judaea, not in Egypt

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(Hypoth. 11.1; cf. Prob. 75–76). He is moving his audience now away from Judaea to Egypt, with a reference to the wider world as a preface. In terms of the contrasting examples that might have been presented here, one thinks Philostratus’ Life of Apollonius (6:1–28) with Apollonius’s meeting with Egyptian—in fact Ethiopian—gymnosophists, but it is Chaeremon’s claims regarding the Egyptian priests, who are said to live in Egypt in temples (Porphyry, Abst. 4.6.1–2), that seems most comparable. The identification of a region of Egypt as a “nome” is also found here (Abst. 4.9.4). All these examples are inadequate, however, in view of §§3–10 and §§ 14–15. (§22) The best ones depart from everywhere as to a home town See textual note. The word θεραπευτῶν, “of Therapeutae/ministers” is added to the C-W text and replicated in Colson’s Loeb edition but it does not occur in most of the Greek manuscripts or Latin. It is not then translated here, and seems to be a gloss. The manuscript addition radically alters the sense as, with it, Philo would be talking about the best of the Therapeutae/ministers, rather than the best of all Jews (who are Therapeutae/ministers). We are now to consider a sub-group of the category of the “ministering type of people”—defined more particularly as the ministers, the Therapeutae (§2)—as our prime examples: people who are defined as “the best ones” (οἱ ἄριστοι) among “the type” manifesting “perfect goodness.” The terminology does seem to imply that the Therapeutae are the best Jews, just as § 1 already suggested that their virtue exceeds that of the Essenes. Colson (PLCL 9:125) takes πανταχόθεν with στέλλονται, so he translates “the best of these votaries journey from every side.” The term’s placement between article and noun could, however, justify the translation “the best in every respect journey …” (see Bormann 1964, 53). It may have this sense in Congr. 78, though elsewhere in Philo it means “from everywhere” (Post. 116; Agr. 24; Fug. 49; Somn. 2.46; Mos. 1.38, 2.251; Decal. 116; Spec. 4.128; Legat. 15, 212, 291). Thus, it seems to indicate that the “best” people who come to this settlement are not just from Alexandria but from elsewhere also. As noted in §18 “home town” (πατρίς) is a term used by Philo to refer to Jewish colonies, and Philo can note that when people grow up in a colony this new place becomes their πατρίς, one that they feel a deep attachment to, while travellers as opposed to colonists will yearn to return to the μητρόπολις. Here it seems that it is the feeling of returning home that is the key one Philo wishes to communicate, so that while in fact they leave home, they feel a sense of coming home in arriving at this place. Geoltrain (1969, 52–53) remarks that this phrasing does not imply that the Lake Mareotis community is the “mother house” of all other Therapeutae com-

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munities throughout the world. It is in Philo’s estimation simply the perfect location for the best people. Yet the language of Philo in both §§ 21 and 22 raises briefly and obscurely the issue of the relation of this specific settlement to persons like the Therapeutae living elsewhere. Philo says almost nothing about governance within the community, and absolutely nothing about any relationships—in governance, communication, or other respects—between that community and others. It seems at least possible, however, that there were communities like this one existing elsewhere and that this was for one reason or another thought of as the “homeland” in the sense of the founding or best of all these Jewish communities (see Nikiprowetsky 1979). In Contempl. almost everything he will now say about the Therapeutae is focused on one group in a particular, small settlement outside Alexandria. These are “the best” among those who love the one God and seek only to study God’s ways. Just as the Essenes represent for Philo the finest illustration of the life of active virtue among Jews, the group on the hill beside Lake Mareotis are for him the preeminent example the contemplative “ministers” he defines. He does not need to indicate that there are many of them, and indeed he does not; the impression we gain is of a very small group. The idea that this is a place they think of as home implies their detachment from physical notions of a homeland. Philo implies that they have a natural predilection for a perfect location, in contrast to the city life (§ 19). They divest themselves of belongings friends and family and “flee” (§ 18), not to another city, but to this perfect spot for those of philosophical excellence. to a certain very suitable place which is above Lake Mareotis, lying upon a rather flat, low hill, extremely well situated on account of both its safety and temperate air While Peter Richardson (1993) suggested that ὑπέρ λίμνης Μαρείας would mean “beyond Lake Mareotis,” or rather south, Annewies van den Hoek (1997a, 84–85, n. 124) has noted that ὑπέρ with the genitive would usually mean “over,” “above” or “on higher ground,” and this is Philo’s meaning elsewhere (Sacr. 25; Her. 226; Fug. 57; Abr. 140–141; Mos. 1.175; Decal. 56). The second meaning, favoured by Richardson, is more common with an accusative, and indeed Philo uses it with the accusative when he wishes to indicate “beyond” (Leg. 1.2; Somn. 1.54; Spec. 4.86). Unlike in the case of fantasy examples of utopias, which are invariably far away from Graeco-Roman civilization, in this case the people Philo describes are located very precisely in one actual location outside a major centre of civilization, beside Lake Mareotis, the lake on which the city of Alexandria was itself located (Strabo, Geogr. 17.1.14). Lake Mareotis (Mariut) forms the south-

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ern boundary of Alexandria and was a centre of commercial activity (Empereur 1998, 214–215). South of Alexandria there is a low-lying limestone ridge that hugs the lake, lying between Lake Mareotis and the Mediterranean, colloquially referred to in antiquity as ἡ Ταινία, “the Strip” (Ptolemy, Geogr. 4.5.24). It is about 30 m in height and runs south from Bahig to Aboukir (Foster 1968, 5), beginning behind the present day Agami Zahra (Hannoville) and Bitash (Agami) beaches though it is hidden by buildings. An approximate placement for the Mareotic group as being on “the Strip” was proposed by François Daumas (in Daumas and Miquel 1963, 44–45), though he placed this north of Alexandria. A specific location here has been suggested some 14–18 kilometres from the western walls (Taylor and Davies 1998, 11–13; in detail by Taylor 2003, 75–89), traced to a site just south of ancient Chersonesus where there are also reeds and an ancient spring (cf. Contempl. 37). It was easily reachable from the city by boat and on foot, and in prime agricultural land. Philo’s description, brief as it is, then seems to refer to a particular limestone hill on the southwestern side of Alexandria. The word for “place” is χωρίον not τόπος. It applies to a small tract of land. This term is a common one for a place with agricultural or rural associations (see the discussion in Taylor 1993, 198–199). (§23) Both the homesteads and encircling villages thus provide the safety The word ἔπαυλις should best be understood as a homestead with agricultural land around it, on the basis of Greek papyri from Egypt (Husson 1983, 45–54, 77– 80), and would be a typical affluent villa. The LXX version of Lev 25:31 also uses the term for a little group of houses (in a hamlet) (Husson 1983, 78, n. 2). There is a clear indication here that the settlement is not isolated but in a wider zone of homesteads, hamlets and villages, appropriate to the land south of Alexandria in which, at the bottom of the slim, low-lying hill, especially towards the lake, there remain cultivations to this day. The villas and villages of the countryside here supply some protection since aid could be sought from neighbours in time of danger. This is far from a wilderness. Strabo notes that in the region of Lake Mareotis “all the shores around it are well-inhabited” (Geogr. 17.1.14). Cultivations of papyrus and Egyptian bean were grown (Geogr. 17.1.15, cf. Pliny, Nat. 13.69, 76 cf. Socrates, Hist. eccles. 1.27. See Fraser 1972, i, 144–146). “The Strip” gave its name to a particular kind of papyrus, grown here (Haas 1997, 34) and indeed, according to Philo, the Mareotic group used this papyrus for their couches when they ate together (Contempl. 69). The consideration of safety in §§22–23 is interesting here, and this issue repeats in §24. It is assumed that a location too far away from other people would make one vulnerable to attack.

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the temperateness in the air comes from the combined breezes arising from both the lake which flows into the sea and the open sea nearby—the breezes of the sea are light, but those from the lake are heavy—the mixture of which works up a very healthy situation. Philo distinguishes two types of breezes from two locations: the sea and the lake, the former being light (λεπταί) and refreshing and the latter heavy (παχεῖαι) and thick, which together create a moderate and pleasant air. It is the air quality that is being discussed here, not the strength of the wind (contra Taylor 2003, 80–81). The air from the lake is understood to be healthy by Strabo, who also mentions that the Etesian breezes from the sea (in midsummer) cool Alexandria (Geogr. 17.1.7). Philo notes the importance of good air in Gig. 10, and in Prov. 2.66 and 109 he states that the mind is sharpened by the good quality of air (Winston 1981, 317). The necessity of good air for health was noted by Hippocrates (so Eusebius, Praep. ev. 8.14; Diodorus Siculus, Bibl. 2.47.1; 5.19.5, and for further see Graffigna 1992, 118–119; Daumas and Miquel 1963, 93). The reference to Mareotis as a lake that flows into the sea is correct in that there was a canal cut that let the lake flow into the city’s western harbour. It was fed by the Canopic branch of the Nile (Geogr. 17.1.1), and a canal led from the lake to the western harbour, close to what Strabo (Geogr. 17.1.10) calls the Kibotos, “boxshaped” basin (Khalil 2010, Fig. 4). Overall, Philo dwells in some detail on the location’s security and healthy air. He implies that the founders of the community gave careful thought to these “physical” matters of Nature (§3). Their ascetic inclinations and convictions did not make them indifferent to all bodily concerns. Philo can say of them that they spurn pleasures of the body (§68), and give their daylight hours to nonphysical concerns (§25); but elsewhere he emphasizes that they also exercise some care for their physical bodies (§§2, 34, 36, 37), creating a balance between being citizens of both heaven and world (§90). Physical security is provided partly by the proximity of buildings and villages evidently used by persons not connected with the Therapeutae, who have deliberately chosen not to live in a desert or wilderness. Daumas points out that Greek philosophers who dealt with political problems often emphasized the importance of choosing healthy sites for cities (Daumas and Miquel 1963, 40–41, 93; cf. Runia 2003, 92, 97). In concluding the subject of location, Philo has furthered the underlying template of the Two Ways by making the following further additions to the conceptual categories of the ways of Truth and Falsehood:

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Truth

Falsehood

not ensnared/free outside city [Jews] perfect good healthy and safe

caught/trapped §18 city §§19–20 Greek and Barbarian worlds § 21 [not perfect good] §21 [unhealthy/unsafe] §§22–23

The opposite of what is presented in §§22–23 is in many ways implied by the description of cities mentioned in §§19–20, and therefore aspects of these probably do not need to be stated explicitly to be indicated. Likewise, in presenting the “perfect good” that is able to be experienced in both Greek and Barbarian worlds, it is implied that the philosophy that exists among the Greeks and Barbarians is less than perfect good, even though it may be counted as “good” in many respects.

C

Housing §§24–33

From location Philo now moves to consider the housing of the group he describes, and involves here both personal accommodation and communal meetings. The housing discussion then includes what activities are done within each space, so within the personal housing Philo describes what the Therapeutae do day and night, and this includes mention of their diet, prayers and study. Philo then moves away from the “work” they do on six days of the week to a focus on the Sabbath, which eventually becomes a key presentation in the treatise. The second type of housing for this group is the space for their Sabbath meetings, which is described as a semneion, or “sanctuary” (§ 32). Here, in this space, Philo introduces (again) the women members of the group, firstly indicating that the space of the sanctuary is divided by a wall to protect their modesty. In creating a theme of housing for this section Philo builds into the spaces various key features of the example he wishes to present, but gives us the impression of the Therapeutae always being indoors, in one way or another, in their own establishment away from the city, shut apart from everyone else. This part of the treatise recalls what was said by Chaeremon of the Egyptian priests in various ways: the priests philosophize in temples, sing hymns each day, also practice their philosophy during the night, consider all acts as indicative of an allegorical truth, and exhibit great control (Porphyry, Abst. 4.6, 8).

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While insisting that he is telling the truth (§ 1), from § 26—where it is said that the members of this group constantly have the remembrance, or awareness, of God, and never forget that—we can perceive hyperbolic elements. The passage recalls what Philo has already written about the worship and love of God, which are the driving concerns of the Therapeutae (§§ 2, 11–12). §30 is a single long sentence with a μέν … δέ structure implying mild contrast: on the one hand, the members spend six days in solitude, but every seventh day they have communal meetings. Once again, as in §§ 21 and 25, a new topic is introduced with a backward glance at what has gone before. Philo’s account of the seventh day gatherings emphasizes three or four features: the attentive postures and responses of the listeners, the style of the speech made by a senior member, the presence of women, and their separation from men by means of a partition in the meeting hall. One of the most remarkable features of the group is the presence of women, especially given Philo’s report of the exclusion of women among the Essenes (Hypoth. 11.14–17) and Philo’s own frequent denigration of womanhood, especially at the symbolic level (Baer 1970; Sly 1990; Mattila 1996a). Yet, in this passage Philo condones the presence of women. He offers a brief but impressive explanation: these women have the same religious ardour and conviction as the men; but he is at pains to ensure that the women are configured as being very modest, in order to avoid any suggestion that they are behaving indecently (see Taylor 2003, 242–246). He closes his account of these Sabbath meetings by describing in detail the wall separating the sexes (in § 33). The quite detailed description of the wall suggests that he wishes to forestall any questions about improper mixing of men and women. Thus, he ends this part of the treatise by describing architectural features supporting the distinctive way of life of the group. Detailed Comments (§24) The dwellings of those who have come together are very basic, providing protection against the two most pressing things, against both the heat of the sun and the chill from the air. Philo returns to the type of house they live in later on at § 38 before introducing the subject of clothing, stating there: “Since indeed there are two forms of protection, clothing and housing, housing has been spoken of earlier—that it is undecorated and rough, being made for utility itself alone.” This is a very simple type of house, and one can really imagine it as a hut. Yet the huts are built in such a way as to protect the community members from extremes of heat and cold. Perhaps, then, the walls and roofs are relatively thick and made of mud

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brick or stone with plaster. Philo, however, is uninterested in giving us details about the construction or outward appearance of the houses. They are neither near [to each other], like those in the towns—for close proximities are vexing and irksome to those who have sought solitude and pursued it— The verb ζηλόω occurs here and is translated as “seek” as elsewhere in the treatise. It occurs 5 times in Contempl. (1, 24, 48, 70, 82). The verb indicates a fervent seeking after an ideal. Philo reaffirms their desire to live and work apart from other people, even from other Therapeutae. During most of the week they never step outside their individual domiciles. To live and work largely in solitude is fundamental to their sense of vocation. Their dwellings are not clustered together, and have space between each one. This recalls §20: “they spend their time in cultivations or smallholdings.” We get an impression of rural cultivated farms in which their dwellings are constructed. They are not in the wilderness. nor are they far apart, because of a sense of community which they embrace, and in order that if there be an attack of robbers they can help each other. Yet Philo assures us that they also have κοινωνία that they cherish, and that partly for that reason their houses are not too far apart (perhaps with the implication that all their houses are within view of each other). This is also partly to lend each other aid in case robbers attack. The issue of physical security has been given careful consideration. The Therapeutae can count on other members of the group coming to their aid. Evidently part of the meaning of κοινωνία is mutual concern for physical safety, though their group meetings indicate they also felt strong religious bonds with each other (cf. the Essenes in Prob. 84). Philo indicates that the community’s location and houses were planned with a special concern for security, which is one indication among others that the Therapeutae are not simply a philosopher’s dream (EngbergPedersen 1999). They are located in an actual place where there are outside threats. In terms of robbers, did the Therapeutae have particular enemies or special reason to fear violence or theft? Their houses are very simple or inexpensive, and they seem to live with a minimum of private possessions. The implication is that the Therapeutae would be willing to band together to stop robbers. The only thing of value in the individual dwellings appear to be manuscripts (§ 29). These are allegorical writings by former adherents of the philosophy, though the manuscripts would probably also include sacred scriptures they work on

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themselves, as well as musical compositions. Such scrolls would have had a value, and therefore they may well justifiably have been afraid of robbers taking these. (§25) In each there is a sacred room, which is called a sanctuary (semneion) and “solitarium” (monasterion) in which they perfect solitarily the mysteries of the sanctified life Two distinct terms for an inner room in the huts are given here, σεμνεῖον and μοναστήριον, and neither of them have an extant parallel in any work outside this treatise, which poses some challenge to translators, who seek definition (“santuario e monastero,” so Graffigna 1992, 119; “sanctuaire ou ermitage,” so Daumas and Miquel 1963, 94–95; “sanctuary or closet” so Colson, PLCL 9:127, 519; a “sanctuary” or “place to be alone,” so Hay 2013, 2487, and see Winston 1981, 46). The fact that Philo defines the sacred room (οἴκημα ἰερόν), as being called something definitive may even indicate technical usage among the Therapeutae themselves, which is why terms are provided (Hay 2013, 2487). The language of the mysteries is explicitly employed, “the mysteries of the sanctified life” and here people are seeking perfection through some kind of seclusion, see Iamblichus, De mysteriis 6.5–7. Philo has already introduced the theme of the mysteries by references to Corybants and Bacchic revellers (§§12 and 85), and it is possible also that the language of the Egyptian quasi-mystery cult of Isis and Serapis may also have furnished some background (see Plutarch, Is. Os. and Apuleius, Metamorphoses). Here the “perfecting” occurs quietly as the Therapeutae devote themselves to study of sacred scripture in solitude. Philo proceeds to describe how the minds of the Therapeutae are entirely filled with God and non-material things as they pursue philosophy by allegorical study. They grow in their understanding of spiritual mysteries mainly through philosophical study of the scriptures. Note the use τελέω, “perfect” or “perfectly fulfil” here and τελειόω, “complete,” at the end of § 25, which connects with the use of τελείος in § 21. They aim toward perfect good. Thus, the “mystery” language here does seem the best way of understanding the terms. The first word, σεμνεῖον, comes from the adjective, σεμνός, which has no perfect English translation: “august,” “serious,” “solemn,” “reverent,” may all capture the meaning, but it also has a sense of sanctity. The Therapeutae are here a model of people who capture the sense of it (§§ 25, 29, 88 σεμνότης 66), and σεμνός is used 8 words later than σεμνεῖον in relation to the quality of their life, here translated as “sanctified.” The σεμνεῖον is referred to again in § 32, but the word is used here in relation to a communal space where the group assembles on the Sabbath, and thus it is a “common sanctuary”: κοινόν σεμνεῖον.

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It is used again in §89 to refer to the inner room of the hut. The word “sanctuary” is therefore used for want of a more accurate term. This inner room is also called a μοναστήριον (and also in § 30), not in the later Christian sense of “monastery” but as an indication of a solitary cell within a hut. By using the participle μονούμενοι (here translated as an adverb, rather than “being alone”) shortly after introducing the term μοναστήριον, Philo may intend to suggest that the noun is linked with the verb and designates a place where each person spends time alone (Conybeare 1895, 211). Philo elsewhere uses this verb (μονόω) to speak of persons inspired by God: Sarah (Cher. 45), the high priest (Somn. 2.188), and Balaam (Mos. 1.283). He also uses it to describe the solitary misery of Flaccus after his downfall, when he never crossed his own threshold, but in which he experienced a kind of divinely-inspired recognition of his guilt (Flacc. 168; 166, cf. Contempl. 30). Given the peculiarity of the word, it seems best to translate it with a peculiar equivalent word, thus solitarium. It seems that later Christian communities such as at the Kellia, possibly using Contempl. with the understanding that it referred to early Christians, modelled their dwellings on the pattern Philo provides (see Introduction pp. 49–51; Richardson 1993; Taylor 2003, 279–281). In the Christian text Historia Monachorum (8.54, 9; c. 400CE), one story has a thief (later the reformed Patermouthios) coming to rob the “monasterion” of a Christian woman ascetic in the Thebaid region. However, there is an outer and inner part, as in the Kellia huts. The thief climbs up on the roof of her dwelling but cannot enter the “inner chamber,” here τό ταιμεῖον (see Elm 1994, 318–319; Festugière 1971). This ταιμεῖον appears as being a feature of a 1st-century house in Matt 6:6 (and pl. Matt 24:26; Luke 12:3: i.e., the inner room(s), as is often pointed out by commentators), but it is not Philo’s usage. As Deutsch (2006, 295–296) points out, the language Philo uses here defines the individual dwelling places of the Therapeutae, no matter how simple, as sacred spaces: “the designation of this chamber suggests that the member’s house is not simply a human shelter but a ritual space.” not bringing in either drink or food, or any of the other things which are necessary for the needs of the body Part of the holiness of these rooms is that they are physical places wholly devoted to the non-physical. The body is configured as something that should be maintained in a minimal way only, and there is no thought of bodily maintenance in the sacred room. Chaeremon indicated that the Egyptian priests did not eat bread during their times of holiness and most abstained from oil all the time (Porphyry, Abst. 4.6.9); here no food is taken into the holy space.

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but rather laws, and oracles delivered through prophets, and hymns, and other things by which understanding and piety are fostered and perfected. Philo seems to have an understanding of sacred scripture used by the Therapeutae here as i. the Pentateuch (= laws); ii. the Prophets and iii. Psalms, a threefold division (cf. Luke 24:44), though elsewhere Psalms (of David) could be included within the category of the Prophets (2 Macc. 15:9; 4 Macc. 18:10). The New Testament generally refers to “the Law and the Prophets” (e.g. Matt. 5:17; 7:12; 22:40; Luke 16:16, 29, 31; Acts 13:15; 28:23; Rom 3:21, cf. John 1:45; Luke 24:27). While Ben Sira’s grandson included not only “the Law and the Prophets” but also “the others that followed them” (Sir, Prol. LXX) there is no indication that this is referred to by “other things by which understanding and piety are fostered and perfected”. Rather, this is explained in § 29 as being previous allegorical interpretations of this school of philosophy. The later category of “Writings” (Ketubim), including historical works, is not here explicitly referenced. The study is not “academic”. The Therapeutae begin and end each day with prayers for divine illumination and freedom from preoccupation with things of the senses. Their goal is initiation into “the mysteries” of the sanctified life (§25), which is revealed by understanding the sacred writings allegorically. From the perspective of modern readers, Philo has not yet clearly identified the members of this group as Jews (and will not explicitly do so until quite late in the treatise, at §§63–64). Philo in Rome, however, must have been expected to present Jews as models of virtue in his treatise, and indeed in the companion piece on Essenes (§1) this is evident. Even without any previous knowledge, informed listeners/readers would surely see (and may have been expected by Philo to see) a reference here to the main sectors of the Jewish scriptures, and we will soon learn that they also have interpretations of Scripture using the allegorical method of exegesis (§29). In §28 Philo refers to their study of “the holy scriptures,” again without identifying the group as Jewish explicitly. It seems it simply went without saying that he was using a Jewish example in this treatise. Are we to suppose that each member of the group has her or his own copies of the complete Jewish scriptures as well as copies of the writings of the founders? It seems at least probable that there was a common library from which individuals could borrow particular writings. Since they spend most of their time studying the scriptures, however, probably Philo intends to imply that the Therapeutae possess multiple copies at least of the Mosaic law and the prophets. This is one indication among others this group has access to significant financial resources. The fact that all the members can read and write and “philosophize” through a sophisticated mode of scripture interpretation (§ 28)

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is also a sign that they come from the educated and economically elite. That they each have a collection of writings in their sacred rooms indicates a degree of affluence, since written texts were not cheap to produce. They all appear to be literate, which also indicates a degree of affluence. Their ability to compose hymns (§29) is another indication of their privileged background (Taylor and Davies 1998, 16–18; Taylor 2003, 93–99). (§26) Always then, they have the unforgetting remembrance of God, so as to visualize even in dreams nothing else but the beauties of the divine virtues and powers Chaeremon says that that Egyptian priests “devoted their whole life to contemplation and vision of things divine” (Porphyry, Abst. 4.6.3; Clark 2000, 104). The “ministers” of God are in a quasi-inspired state all the time, and most especially while sleeping. They have such pure minds that even their dreams are beautiful (cf. §67, 78, 89, cf. Mos. 1:190; Post. 182). This reflects what Plato states in Timaeus 71e, that sleep inhibits the power of the rational mind, allowing for inspiration. Likewise, Cicero noted that sleep releases people from the body, so they can see things that otherwise they could not see (Div. 1.129). Levison (1995, 313) notes the popularity of sleep being a condition of inspiration by noting Plutarch’s disapproving quotation of Simmias in De genio Socratis 589c–d that it is only in sleep that people receive inspiration from on high. Levison also relates this notion to the presentation of Kenaz in Pseudo-Philo’s Biblical Antiquities 25–29. Plutarch, De defectu oraculorum 432c, has Lamprias explaining that prophecy most commonly appears in dreams or at the hour of death, which allow the irrational and visionary to come to the fore. Iamblichus (Vita Pythag. 107) describes Pythagoras’s arrangements so that his followers might have restful sleep and auspicious (mantic) dreams, guarding against anything that would muddy visions in dreams (cf. Diogenes Laertius, Lives 8.24; Ep. Arist. 213–265; see Wolfson 1968, 2.55–59, 81–82). Heinemann (1934, 2335, cf. Daumas and Miquel 1963, 95) infers from § 26 that the Therapeutae deliberately sought religious visions in prophetic dreams, that their ascetic practices were designed to prepare them for such dreams, that other persons recorded what they said while asleep, and that their dreamrevelations were focused on the relation between God and the world and mediating angelic beings. Heinemann’s interpretation of this passage is possible, but Philo does not here or elsewhere in the treatise indicate that the dreams of the Therapeutae provided them with new revelations. The centre of their contemplation seems rather to have been the scriptures (§ 28), and Philo seems to speak of their dreams as reminding them of, or confirming, sacred doctrines.

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Here φαντασιοῦσθαι is rendered “to visualise” rather than “to fantasize” or “to dream” since there is an implication of really perceiving beauties, not imagining them. Philo mentions God’s “excellences” or “virtues” in Mos. 2.189 and Spec. 1.209. The reference to divine “virtues and powers” may indicate that the Therapeutae shared some of Philo’s ideas about divine Powers (see Termini 2000) as being generated from the Father (cf. Opif. 46, 55), but no other passage of this treatise speaks of such Powers, and in fact other references to both “powers” (§§ 6, 63, and 65) and of “virtue” or “excellence” (§§1, 34, 60, 72, 90) do not refer to these. In Mos 1.190 Philo speaks of a mind like that of Moses that has “tasted holiness” and ranges “the heights and searches into divine beauties” (τὰ θεῖα … κάλλη). The idea of divine beauty also recalls LXX Ps 26 (27): 4. Many in fact even call out in sleep, while dreaming, the glorious doctrines of the sacred philosophy. The Therapeutae call out “the glorious doctrines of the sacred philosophy” (τὰ τῆς ἰερᾶς φιλοσοφίας ἀοίδιμα δόγματα) and can then presumably be heard by people outside. Conybeare (1895, 303–306) speculates here on esoteric Jewish mysticism and certainly there is a strongly “inspired” element in their portrayal. Such doctrines are not peculiar to this group, since this kind of terminology is frequently used by Philo to refer to the law of Moses, the δογματών θείων (Det. 133); τὰ θεῖα δόγματα (Migr. 131); δογμάτων ἰερῶν (Mut. 210); λόγων ἰερῶν καὶ δογμάτων (Praem. 122); τὰ σοφίας δόγματα (Spec. 1.269). These are ἀοίδιμα, “high-sung,” or “famous,” which is in Philo’s usage another way of saying “glorious” (e.g., Spec. 1.50, 322; Prob. 137). The use of the term δόγματα elsewhere in Contempl. (§§31, 35, 68) is best understood in the light of this, though with the assumption that the methods of allegorical interpretation employed lead to the truths of the sacred philosophy, as explained in §§ 28 and 78. Perhaps part of the meaning or sense of § 26 is that the Therapeutae see the truths about God in their “naked” reality, in contrast to those whose thoughts of God are confused or veiled because they are based on literalistic readings of scripture. In a curious passage (Tim. 71a–72d), to which Philo alludes elsewhere (Spec. 1.219), Plato speaks of the liver as acting like a mirror of the mind’s thoughts, with the result that it is the seat of the soul’s powers of divination. (§27) Twice each day they are accustomed to pray, at sunrise and at sunset. The verbs εἰώθασιν εὔχεσθαι, “accustomed to pray,” indicate long standing practices, εἰώθασιν relates to εἰωθότως, “in customary use” (LSJ 498). The term εὔχομαι is chosen here and in §56 rather than προσεύχομαι: the latter is used in § 66 for

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communal prayer. Philo uses it also in Her. 258 for spoken prayer in front of another, quoting Gen 20:7 (LXX). In Somn. 2.139 the word is used also in regard to public prayer in a synagogue, with people lifting their arms to pray, and in Spec. 1.24 it is used in regard to prayers in a temple. Here the prayer is solitary. Chaeremon noted that the Egyptian priests sang to the gods at sunrise and sunset, and also at noon: “they sang hymns to the gods three or four times, at dawn and evening, when the sun is at noon and when it is setting” (Porphyry, Abst. 4.8.2; Clark 2000, 106). The custom of prayer at dawn and sunset is found in Hesiod (Op. 338–339) and Plato (Leg. 887e). Josephus stated that people should pray with thanks twice a day (A.J. 4.212, cf. Let. Aris. 160) though prayer three times per day in morning, afternoon and evening is found in other writings (Dan 6:11; b. Ber. 26b; see Jonquière 2007, 47–48). The Serekh text of the Dead Sea Scrolls also indicates prayer twice a day (1QS 10.1–3, 10, and see 4Q408; 4Q503) and it is possible that such twice-daily prayer was common among ancient Jews (Geoltrain 1960, 53). Several other texts from Qumran indicate these prayers were at sunrise and sunset (1QHa 20:4–7; 1QM 14.12–14). Such prayers may have linked with Temple practices, since originally sacrifices were offered at dawn and dusk (e.g., Jub. 6:14; see Falk 1998, 46–47, 99). The Therapeutae, in morning prayers, ask for divine light to fill their minds as they work in their huts. Evening prayers are petitions that their souls may continue to apprehend truth, unhampered by sense impressions and material concerns. The Therapeutae proceed to work all day at their “exercises,” which consist largely in exegesis of scripture. When the sun is rising they ask for a “fine day,” by which they mean a really “fine day”, that their understanding be filled up with heavenly light The time between the prayers, while there is sunlight, is devoted to their work of philosophy. Their exegetical labours aim at bringing the true meanings of scripture “to the light of day” (§78). In §34 Philo says that the Therapeutae believe that philosophy “finds its right place in the light, the needs of the body in the darkness.” Hence they eat and drink nothing in the daytime (in line with the statement in §25 that no food or drink is brought into their “sanctuaries”). On the other hand, the Therapeutae do not seem to think completely dualistically in the sense that things of God are absent from the night. Philo has already said that the Therapeutae think of God continually even while sleeping and dreaming (§26). They assign only a small part of the night to their physical needs, and, evidently, even while attending to these, hope that God will not let them be distracted by bodily concerns (§34). However, their great Sabbath of Sabbaths festivals last all night (§89), which will break down this strict division.

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At the end of this celebration, they also pray for a “fine day” before returning to this work (§89). while in the setting of the sun they ask that the soul be completely relieved of the crowd of the senses and objects of sense Even though the sun goes down and the darkness is considered appropriate for catering to the needs of the body (§34), they pray that they should not be attached to sense or the objects of sense. It is at this time that these do have some power to tempt, since it is when food is given to the people who work solitarily in huts. The senses and the objects of sense in Philo are morally neutral but can be a continual distraction that encumber the soul and leads it/her astray (Leg. 2.49– 50; 3.67–68; Sacr. 111); serving the body, they need to be held in check by the mind (for numerous references see Alesse 2008, 177–180). As Runia (1986, 270– 276) notes, there is a gradient of senses, with sight being most esteemed by Philo, as for Plato (Tim. 47a–c). coming to be in her own council and court, to apprehend truth The Greek would most naturally indicate that it is the feminine soul (ψυχή) that has the power to apprehend or literally “track” (ἰχνηλατεῖν) the truth here, as a guiding authority but it should refer to the faculty of understanding, also feminine (διάνοια). Elsewhere διάνοια is a subcategory within the concept of the νοῦς or else veritably identical with νοῦς (Leg. 2.55 and cf. Eph 4:17–24). The mind is in charge of parts of the total human being (Migr. 3; Fug. 68–72) and discerns everything (Her. 234–235; see Cox 2007, 115, 131–132). The verb ἰχνηλατέω is used also of apprehending or tracking hidden truth lying beneath words of Scripture or discernment of truth in general (Conf. 143; Her. 81; Ios. 104; Praem. 36; Aet. 106, 138). The feminine aspects of the human entity are being bothered by a mixed-sex “crowd of senses and objects of sense” (given the arrival of food, § 34) and the soul places herself away from this throng in her own buildings, described as both συνέδριον and βουλευτήριον, “council” and “court”, the words being somewhat synonymous. These are locations of judgement and discernment in the public space of the city; and note the expression “the council of soul” (τὸ ψυχὴς συνέδριον) in Conf. 86. (§28) The entire period from morning until evening is for them an exercise Utilizing the word ἄσκησις, Philo links up the philosophical life with the training of athletes, already a concept used in philosophical circles (Epictetus, Diss. 3.10 and for further see Graffigna 1992, 123). This sense of the philosopher being in training, like an athlete, is found also in Prob. 88 regarding the Essenes, and

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in Cher. 78–79, where Philo characterizes such a person as being married to Reason (λόγος) and Understanding (ἐπιστήμη). The period from morning until evening, the time of light, ties in with the Two Ways paradigm of light and darkness. because they philosophize by encountering the sacred scriptures, allegorizing the ancestral philosophy See Textual Note. Colson (PLCL 9:128 n. a) comments: the “translation takes φιλοσοφίαν as cognate accusative after φιλοσοφοῦσι as in Mos. 2.216,” supporting his translation of: “They read the Holy Scriptures and seek wisdom from their ancestral philosophy by taking it as an allegory,” though this seems a rather loose rendering of the Greek. However, it is right to suggest that “the ancestral philosophy” is identical with Scripture (§§ 2, 64). In §§ 25–26 Scripture (Law, Prophets and Psalms) is “the sacred philosophy,” τῆς ἱερας φιλοσιφίας. This interpretation of the phraseology is supported by Somn. 2.127; Mos. 2.216 (see Geoltrain 1960, 53; Nikiprowetsky 1977, 97–116). The variant found in the Armenian, has νομοθεσίαν, “law,” which seems to narrow down the focus. The notion that Moses’s writings were philosophy can be seen already in Sir 24:19–23; Let. Aris. 31, 200–201; 4Macc. 1:1–2, 15–17; 5:33–35; 7:21–23; Wis 10:1– 11:1. For Philo, all Jews engage in philosophy as they engage with Scripture on the Sabbath (Mos. 2.211; Opif. 128), but the Therapeutae “work” at it every day. Chaeremon noted that the time between sunrise and sunset for the Egyptian priests was taken up also by studies: “For the rest of the time they were engaged in the study of arithmetic or geometry, always working at it and adding to their discoveries, and altogether committed to practising it” (Porphyry, Abst. 4.8.2; trans. Clark 2000, 106). For the use of allegorical exegesis see Sandmel (1979, 17–28). The Therapeutae use this method exclusively. The terminology takes us back to § 2, where the Therapeutae are said already to be schooled by both Nature and the sacred laws. They are clearly literate, which suggests they are part of an elite sector of society (see Taylor 2003, 94–96). They are philosophers, engaging in understanding the ancestral philosophy which is Judaism itself. The verb φιλοσοφέω is found four times in the treatise, describing what these people do (§§16, 28, 30, 34). They are philosophers (§§ 2, 57) who undertake “philosophy” (§§14, 16, 26, 28, 67, 69, 89). Philo seems plainly to insist that the Therapeutae are both philosophers and exegetes. Their studies are focused on the scriptures (cf. §75), but their exegesis itself is philosophical both because they employ an allegorical method and because their goal is a philosophical probing of religious concepts, “the hidden realities.” Philo can

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therefore appropriately compare and contrast the Therapeutae with famous Greek philosophers (§§14, 57). The allegorizing method is indebted to Stoic work on Homer (Dawson 1992, 38–52; Niehoff 2011a), and was of course Philo’s own exegetical practice (Dawson 1992, 73–126; Dillon 1994, and see Taylor 2003, 126–136). He even refers to the “extreme allegorists” as part of the exegetical group he belongs to, using “we” (Migr. 92). He also says of the Essenes that “most of their philosophical study (of the Bible) takes the form of allegory, and in this they emulate the tradition of the past” (Prob. 82). For further see below §78. since they consider aspects of the literal interpretation as [surface] symbols, when its nature is hidden away within deeper meanings The Greek τὰ τῆς ῥητῆς ἑρμηνείας, “things of the literal interpretation,” here is translated “aspects of the literal translation” for better English. Colson (PLCL 9:128 note b) considers ἑρμηνεία “to be here used as elsewhere, e.g., Quis Rerum 108, in the technical rhetorical sense of the language in which the thought is expressed as opposed to the thought itself.” In this way Philo sums up the allegorical method: the literal interpretation of the underlying meanings as found in a surface layer of the biblical texts is not really the truth. The literal interpretation is actually symbolic (cf. Prob. 82), because the truth lies in deeper meanings of significance (ἐν ὑπονοίαις, see Graffigna 1992, 124–125). The use of the term φύσις without a definite article seems not a reference to any sense of “Nature” in Stoic terms, but is rather more general, referring to the nature of the ancestral philosophy. The final clause, ἀποκεκρυμμένης … δηλουμένης is a Genitive absolute and is therefore translated here with “when.” §78 offers a more extended account of the allegorical approach taken in this community. Philo does not say here that the Therapeutae completely ignore or reject the literal meaning of scripture, but he clearly indicates that their main concern is at the allegorical level. However, Philo tells us virtually nothing about the allegorical or symbolic interpretations of Scripture at which the Therapeutae arrived (see Hay 1998). (§29) They have also works of men of old Literally the Greek reads “there are for them” (ἔστι … αὐτοῖς), which sounds almost a Semitism, but “they have” makes better English. Note that here the word ἀνήρ is preferred to a more inclusive ἄνθρώπος at this point, replicating the masculine language found already in §1, despite the inclusion of women in the group. The writings are of the “men of old” just as Philo can refer to the whole group of “men”, but we learn here that the designation includes women. The written collections, συγγράμματα, are allegorical treatises like those writ-

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ten by Philo himself, and the reference points to a long-standing activity. Philo uses this word elsewhere to refer to philosophical writings: a work by Ocellus the Pythagorean (Aet. 12); Plato’s Timaeus (Aet. 15). In Abr. 23 Philo writes of valuable works by people long dead, noting that they can be in poetry or prose. However, in Mos. 1.3 the works in question are—by contrast—compositions in poetry or prose that are licentious. Note that this relates back to what Philo has mentioned in §25 regarding writings they use: “other things by which understanding and piety are fostered and completed.” who were the founders of the school of thought There were definite founders here, of what is defined as a αἵρεσις, a word only used once in this treatise, in this section. One should avoid translating this term with the later Christian understanding of “sect” or even “heresy,” since in Philo’s writings αἵρεσις refers to choice, which may be considered a philosophical choice of lifestyle or a school of thought, as Runia (1999) has persuasively argued. The precedent may be found in Aristobulus, who describes Judaism as a “choice” or “school” (Frag. 4; Eusebius, Praep. ev. 13.13.8). In Philo’s writings, it is usually far more general: in Prob. 83 it is used of the Essenes, not in any sense to define them, but regarding a choice between good, evil or indifference (as also in Cher. 30; Post. 78; Deus 49; Plant. 45; Mut. 153). It is found in Philo in regard to a choice of virtue (Her. 241; Spec. 2.228; Spec. 4.108), or other choices (Gig. 18; Plant. 147; Ebr. 171; Congr. 110; Abr. 215; Mos. 2.160, 176, 177, 278; Spec. 1.340; 4.157; Virt. 60). Only in one case is it used of the Cynic school/choice of philosophy in Plant. 151, and this gives us the translation here. They were the founders of a distinctive hermeneutical approach, or perhaps of a definite commitment to that approach. Philo does not say that the founders were all Jews or that their allegorizing was entirely related to the Jewish scriptures. Yet the group he describes is clearly Jewish (§ 64), and the only writings which Philo mentions in the context as being worked over allegorically by the Therapeutae are the Jewish sacred scriptures (§§ 25, 28). Obviously we may suppose that the founders and their writings are entirely unknown to us apart from this isolated reference to them in Contempl. 29. It is also conceivable, however, that these pioneering allegorists, “men of old,” included Aristobulus. Associated with the Egyptian king Ptolemy VI Philometor (180–145BCE), Aristobulus is described in 2Macc. 1:10 as the king’s teacher (of Jewish philosophy) and a man of priestly stock. He apparently argued that the Mosaic Pentateuch is the true philosophy, and the Greek philosophers and poets were actually dependent on Moses (Eusebius, Praep. ev. 8.10.4; 13.1–16= Aristobulus Frags. 3–5), which was a view also held by Philo (Prob. 57, 160; Aet. 76; Leg. 1.107; Her. 214; QG 3.5, 16; 4.152) and Josephus (C. Ap. 2.168). In his writ-

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ings he appears to be familiar with the Stoics, Peripatetics and Pythagoreans and used the terminology of Greek philosophy (cf. the “seven-fold logos” of 12.12, 15; see Radice 1994; Dawson 1992, 77–81). Since we have very little in Philo’s treatise that clearly shows us what kinds of allegorical interpretation the Therapeutae actually came up with, it is impossible to say if they carried allegory further than some of those writers. Yet the implications of §§28–29 and 78 seem to lie in the direction of saying that the Therapeutae are thorough-going allegorists for whom the literal meaning of scripture is at best comparatively unimportant. How many books did the Therapeutae possess, either in their private huts or in a common library? Perhaps it was similar to that of Philo himself (for which, see Lincicum 2014). Philo mentions the scriptures and the writings of the founders, but does not say their holdings were restricted to these items. If the Therapeutae resembled Philo in the breadth of their intellectual horizons, they may have owned and used a wide range of Jewish and non-Jewish texts, including the writings of Plato and other Greek philosophers. Yet Philo is so unspecific about the doctrines and exegetical conclusions of the Therapeutae that we cannot be sure what other Jewish or other texts they consulted or treasured. who left behind many reminders of the form (used) in allegorized writings The expression “form (used) in allegorized writings” (τῆς ἐν τοῖς ἀλληγορουμένοις ἰδέας) refers back to “the sacred scriptures” (τοῖς ἰεροῖς γράμμασι) that are here “allegorized” in these treatises. Colson (PLCL 9:129, note c) urges that the meaning of the phrase is simply “the form or kind of treatment which we find in allegory.” However, the meaning is more likely that the founders of the school of thought composed writings that provided models of the principle used in allegorical interpretations. The sense would be that the Therapeutae work from such allegorical interpretation articulated in these writings, but that they develop their own interpretations. The principle would be that the primary meaning of the scriptures lies at a level beyond the literal. When Eusebius (Hist. eccles. 2.17.1–24) quotes from Philo’s account of the allegorical studies of the Therapeutae and the writings of the “men of old” which they possess, he surmises that probably Philo had himself listened to the scriptural expositions of the Therapeutae and that the writings of their founders may have included New Testament gospels and letters, including the Letter to the Hebrews. This is highly unlikely given the dating problems alone that this would involve, but it suggests that Eusebius recognizes important similarities between that particular New Testament document and the methods of allegory employed by Philo and presumably also by the Therapeutae community (Runia 1993, 220).

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by which, using them as certain prototypes, they imitate the method of the practice. The works of the “men of old” themselves provide a basis for imitating the method of allegorical interpretation. In this case, the word ἀρχέτυπος should be rendered “model” or “prototype,” as the works themselves are prototypical of what the Therapeutae are trying to do. The word προαιρέσις invariably means “practice” in Philo’s works, and is used in this way in §§ 2, 17, 32, 67, 79 (for other references see Borgen, Fuglseth and Skarsten 2000, 293), and here relates to the process of allegorical interpretation. Elsewhere the “practice” also encompasses the religious/philosophical orientation of the Therapeutae (§§ 2, 32, 67), intense love of God, concentration on the soul and detachment from material things, and a corresponding lifestyle and discipline marked by worship and justice. Colson (PLCL 9:129, note d) remarks that the phrase “the method of the practice” (τῆς προαιρέσεως τὸν τρόπον) is “obscure.” Colson argues, however, partly against more general interpretations of Conybeare and Lake, that προαιρέσις “must suggest a motive or purpose,” which is simply not the case in Philo’s usage. He considers it to mean “the belief which inspired the allegorists that the scriptures were to be interpreted allegorically. Their successors emulated the method in which this principle was carried out.” In terms of the latter conclusion, though, this is correct. The Therapeutae imitate the manner or method of their forebears. The inference is that they do not confine themselves to studying and copying the interpretations of their predecessors: they develop fresh interpretations of their own, but they rely on the allegorical method or assumptions of the “men of old.” They are presumably then also writing these interpretations down, using the older treatises as their model. They are not only literate as readers but also as writers. So they do not only contemplate, but also compose songs and hymns for God by means of all kinds of metres and melodies, songs which they necessarily record with very reverent rhythms. Chaeremon’s priests sing songs to Serapis (Abst. 4.8.2; 4.9.5) but here the “ministers” of God compose hymns. As with their fresh interpretations of Scripture, the songs and hymns are new compositions that they make “for God” (not for themselves) as part of their ministering. The metres and melodies required considerable skill and were associated with certain types of music (Halporn, Ostwald and Rosenmeyer 1980; van den Hoek 1997b). The hymns may allude to Graeco-Roman sung oracles, since the gods apparently delivered their oracles rhythmically, usually in dactylic hexametre, though other metres were also used, such an iambic trimetre, iambic tetrametre, trochaic tetrametre and

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anapestic tetrametre (though this was not always recorded correctly, see Ps.Justinus, Cohortio ad Graecos 37.3). Aune (1983, 362), notes that in Plutarch’s De Pythiae Oraculis 396c–d the participants in the dialogue express the view that the beauty of oracles in verse indicates their divine origin. As a parallel, the Sibylline Oracles were recorded in dactylic hexametre (Aune 1983, 51; Taylor 2003, 323–324). Philo uses music in his treatises as something that can heal the soul (Cher. 105, and for further see Ferguson 2003; 2019; Feldman 1985–1986). Later on in the treatise we will hear of these songs and rhythms being put to use in the all-night festival. In §80 mention is made of the president singing either a new self-composed song or else one of those composed by “old poets,” people who have left behind “many metres and melodies of epic songs, trimetres, processional hymns, libation-songs, altar-songs, choral standing pieces, well measured with beats and counter-beats.” All the group sing (§§ 80, 84, 85, 87), basing themselves on the model of the choirs of Moses and Miriam, after crossing the Red Sea (§88). The role of music for the group will be discussed further in the final sections of the treatise below. The attention the Therapeutae give to music suggests a high level of concern, somewhat reminiscent of Plato (Leg. 798–799) and the emphasis on music among the Pythagoreans (see, e.g., Dillon and Hershbell 1991, 89–91, 137–139, 166–167, 224). Hymns were important in Graeco-Roman cults of the period (Daumas and Miquel 1963, 98–99). Of course the Therapeutae must have been influenced by the strong traditions of Jewish religious music in Judaea and elsewhere, notably those reflected in the biblical psalms (§ 25; see further Jeffery 2003). Among the Dead Sea Scrolls the Hodayot scroll (1QHa, 1Q35, 4Q427–432) gives a clear instance of composition of song, as does the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice (4Q400–407; 11Q17). The Jerusalem Temple services in Philo’s day used harps, trumpets, flutes, and cymbals (Idelsohn 1967, 7–17), though Philo does not mention that the Therapeutae had musical instruments, only voices. Regarding the final clause, which they necessarily record with very reverent rhythms, this is simply the literal sense of the Greek. Conybeare speculates that that term translated “necessarily” (ἀναγκαίως) means here “as best they can” in the sense that they write on papyrus since they cannot engrave them on stone (Conybeare 1895, 214). Colson (PLCL 9:130 note a) suggests that the adverb indicates that the rhythms were necessarily solemn (here reverent) in keeping with the subject matter of the hymns. These are, after all, hymns for God. However, the adverb should go with the verb. Perhaps the sense is that their composition leads necessarily to writing down the songs: they are not singing the songs by themselves in isolation, but leaving these compositions to others. In Somn. 1.205 Philo writes of the “lover of philosophy,” ὁ σοφίας ἐραστής, that he weaves together the subjects studied in school: “grammar” (writing and read-

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ing), “arithmetic and geometry” (accuracy), “music” (rhythm, metres, melodies that are enharmonic, chromatic, diatonic, conjunct and disjunct) and “rhetoric” (conception, expression, arrangement, treatment, memory, delivery). This indicates that music formed part of education in Alexandria and someone with education would be expected to be able to work with it, as we find also in Congr. 16, 74–76 (Deutsch 2006, 302). It is an indication that the people of interest to Philo are educated, and elite (Taylor and Davies 1999, 17–18). Some of these songs may have been personal, and some intended for communal singing. Of course hymns composed for a congregation can also be sung or hummed meaningfully by individuals when they are alone. The biblical Psalms frequently employ the first person singular, as do the hymns of the Dead Sea Scrolls (Vermes 1997, 243–244). Since he gives such attention to the original hymns of the Therapeutae and indicates that they were an important part of their individual and communal life, it is a pity that Philo does not quote any examples. Presumably they expressed central convictions and experiences of the membership. (§30) Thus, for six days each of them philosophizes As previously noted, Philo frequently uses words such as φιλοσοφέω and φιλοσοφία to describe the activities of the Therapeutae (§§ 2, 14, 16, 26, 28, 30, 34, 67, 69, 89). They are philosophers who “philosophize,” or “engage in philosophy” (cf. the Egyptian priests, Porphyry, Abst. 4.6.1). Colson’s (PLCL IX) translation obscures this by sometimes rendering these terms with phrases like “seek wisdom” (§§16, 30). As noted previously, Philo also represents the Essenes as devotees of philosophy, but mainly of the ethical rather than the contemplative branch (Prob. 80, 88). solitarily apart by themselves in the aforesaid “solitaria” Since in §25 the word μοναστήριον is given as something quite unusual, it is put in quotation marks with an indication of its meaning. In Greek the word μοναστήριον has an initial replication of the initial syllable of μονούμενοι (cf. § 25), which emphasizes the solitariness of the individuals here, and thus in this translation there is the replication of “soli-.” The word μοναστήριος found extant only in Contempl. in this period, before it was taken up in later Christian usage, probably even under the influence of Philonic usage. In § 25, there is reference to the “sanctuary” in each simple house, a σεμνεῖον, also called a μοναστήριον, and it could also be that both the terms derive from the mysteries, since in §25 these are specifically referred to (see above). That later Egyptian monastic settlements modelled themselves on the description Philo presents of the Therapeutae seems likely given that these were understood to be the

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earliest Christians (see Introduction pp. 44–51). As noted, in the Kellia, there were small houses divided into back and front parts, along the model here. For six days these people lived a completely meditative life of study and music composition, hardly even thinking of food, in these solitary compartments. not going beyond the doorway, and they do not even look [at the doorway] from afar The word ἀλλ’ functions in terms of an emphasis to the previous statement, thus “even.” Now, however, we have a reference to a simple “doorway” (αὔλειος). The usage of this form of noun with the feminine article, as here, is found also in Plutarch, Pompey 46, 2.516f and for other examples see LSJ 276. As explored by Taylor (2003, 269–274), in a Hellenistic Egyptian house the αὔλειος is the doorway to the courtyard (αυλή), which had at the front a semi-public “gate court,” πυλών (configured as masculine space), on the street, as indicated by Philo’s own usage of terms elsewhere in his writings (Leg. 3.40; Spec. 3.169). The αὔλειος was the normal limit for well-born women (Flacc. 89), and may be considered the threshold of the home proper (cf. QG 4.15), the front door, though there was also an inner doorway to the back rooms of the home, called a κλισιάδες (Spec. 3.169; Congr. 10; Mos. 1.14; Prov. 2.57). An ideal of solitary contemplation and study, suitable for someone who is “refined” (ἀστεῖος), is found in Abr. 22–23, where such a person, craving a business-free life (ἀπράγμονος ζηλωτὴς βίου), in order to pursue virtue, mostly stays at home, and hardly ever goes beyond the back room: μόλις τάς κλισιάδας ὑπερβαίνων. Curiously, the one who pursues contemplative study (Philo himself?) keeps to the very back of the home, the most private area, the locus of the virgins (Spec. 3.169). The language is otherwise similar to what we find in Contempl. It may be noted here that Philo describes those in the huts as spending their entire time within them for six days, but later on he mentions that they do eat, even though some do not do so for days (§35). There is a hyperbolic quality to this writing here, and also a desire to avoid mention of the people who make the food available for those engaged in the contemplative life in the huts. The expression ἐξ ἀπόπτου in Her. 131; Fug. 81; Mos. 2.87 refers to unworthy people not able to see various parts of the sacred items of the Temple “from a distance” or “from afar,” and in Prob. 7 it refers to people in exile who cannot see their native land “from afar.”

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But on the seventh days This is the first time the Sabbath is mentioned, but specific reference to the “seventh day” and the “seventh of seventh days” is also found in §§ 30, 32, 36 and 65. Mention of the seventh day assembly is one of the key elements that identifies the group as Jewish, and the celebration of the seventh day is a key theme of the entire treatise. In Philo’s usage he invariably calls the Sabbath “the seventh day”, and only refers to “the Sabbath”, sabbaton, in terms of the ancestral Hebrew language (Spec. 2.86, 194–199) or when quoting Scripture (e.g. Cher. 87; Mut. 260; Fug. 174; Spec. 2.41, 86, 194). Philo represents Jews as necessarily keeping this day holy in accordance not just with the prescriptions of Moses but in accordance with Nature. It is the birthday of the world (Spec. 2.58–59), and relevant to all the earth (Opif. 89), the day of rest for God and all creation (Cher. 89). For further see comments below on § 65 and the thorough studies of Doering (1999, 315–386) and Leonhardt-Balzer (2001, 53–64). However, we are not introduced to the seventh day in a way that ties it into distinctively Jewish praxis at this point in the treatise. The number seven was strongly associated with the god Apollo, with the seventh day of each month celebrated throughout the Hellenistic world as his birthday (Homer, Od. 12.127– 129; Hesiod, Op. 770–771; Plutarch, E Delph. 17; Quaest. conv. 9.3.1). The fusion of attributes of Apollo with Serapis can be seen in the frequent depiction of the latter with the seven rays of the sun god. Therefore, Philo at this stage may be appealing to a non-Jewish audience by referring to “seventh days” in an initially obscure way. The number itself seems key here. Philo wrote a lost work on the properties of numbers (QG 2.110; QE 2.87; Opif. 52; Mos. 2.115; Spec. 2.200), and the number seven was of special interest to him (Spec. 2.40). He may then here present a simple arithimological notion, in accordance with Pythagorean thinking (for further see Runia 1986, 27–29; Moehring 1995; Leonhardt-Balzer 2013). they come together as into a common congregation The use of “as” (καθάπερ) seems to suggest a comparative point rather than indicating something substantive about the nature of the group. The word “congregation” (σύλλογος) suggests something the public would understand as a public meeting (e.g. Plato, Resp. 492b7; Pausanias, Descr. 9.34.1). The term σύλλογος is used elsewhere in Philo’s extant works to mean the sacred “congregation” of Israel (Leg. 3.81, Post. 177; Deus 111; Somn. 2.184; Spec. 1.325, 344), when paired with a θείος or ἱερός. The other word used by Philo to describe the congregation of Israel is συναγωγή (Post. 67; Agr. 44; QG 2.66; QE 1.19), from Num 27:2–3 LXX. But Philo also uses the term to refer to any gathering of people in a city. Philo writes of law courts, theatres, council chambers, mar-

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kets and other assemblies and “congregations” of people (Mut. 198; Abr. 20; Spec. 1.321; 2.44), though these he also defines as particularly male spaces (Spec. 3.169). It may be we should see the congregation as a synagogue (Conybeare 1895, 310), because Philo actually has a variety of different terms for a synagogue assembly (Leonhardt-Balzer 2001, 74–76; Runesson, Binder and Olsson 2008, 255–263), and the important thing is what Jews do when they have congregated together. For example, in Somn. 2.123 Philo writes of a Roman governor, probably either Iberius or Vitrasius Pollio (see Colson and Whitaker, PLCL V, Appendix. p. 609), who proposed to abrogate the law of the seventh day by compelling Jews to serve him on it. When he saw that some people did not submit to this, and others were very upset, the governor makes a snide speech to the Jews in which their assemblies are called “synagogues” (συναγωγία, sing. συναγώγιον). If, says the governor, there was a sudden enemy attack, flood, fire, famine, plague or earthquake on the Sabbath would you “stay at home completely silent?” (2.125). Would you “sit in your assemblies, collecting the usual “sacred company” (θίασος) and securely read the sacred books, clearly unfolding whatever there may be, and in comfort pass your time slowly expounding the ancestral philosophy” (2.127–128)? This indicates that the public gathering in the synagogue involved collective and seated discussion about points of Scripture. However, that is actually not what takes place in the meetings of the Therapeutae, where discussion is not found. This word “synagogue” (συναγώγιον) is found also in Legat. 311, where Philo mentions a letter of Augustus permitting Jews of Asia to assemble “into assemblies” (συναγωγία) which are also “meetings” (συνόδοι) and, “schools” (διδασκαλεῖα) of temperance and righteousness, which send envoys to Jerusalem with the annual first-fruits taxes to pay for sacrifices in the Jerusalem temple (Legat. 312–313). This is very useful for understanding community synagogue practice. That they are “schools (διδασκαλεῖα) of good sense, courage, temperance and righteousness” is also found in Mos. 2.16 (so also Praem. 66). In Mos. 2.41–42 Philo describes how on seventh days Jews sit together in exemplary order and listen to the reading of Scripture, and a priest (see Let. Aris. 303) or one of the elders reads the sacred laws and explains them one by one until late afternoon. In Spec. 2.62 Philo writes: “On seventh days, in fact in every city, thousands of schools (διδασκαλεῖα) of good sense, temperance, andreia, righteousness and the other virtues are open, schools in which the [people] sit in [right] fashion (οἱ … ἐν κόσμῳ καθέζονται) in silence, with ears pricked up (σὺν ἡσυχίᾳ τὰ ὦτα ἀνωρθιακότες, see §77) with complete attention because of the quenching draughts of words, when a certain person of the most experienced (τις τῶν ἐμπειροτάτων, see §31) gets up and sets out what is best and profitable with

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which to give over the whole of life to the better.” This closely parallels what he describes here in Contempl. For Philo then it seems that a “synagogue” (συναγώγιον) is the same as an “assembly” (σύλλογος) or “meeting” (σύνοδος): a subset of the congregation (συναγωγή, σύλλογος) of Israel. It is not a building that is called a “synagogue” but rather it is the congregation who assemble. He can emphasize public discussion, in line with the concept of a public meeting, or he can emphasize tuition, in line with the concept of a school. In Contempl. he is emphasizing the concept of a school, as in Spec. 2.62. However, in Prob. 81 he mentions that the Essenes “come to sacred places they call synagogues” (εἰς ἱεροὺς ἀφικνούμενοι τόποις, οἳ καλοῦνται συναγωγαί), here indicating a building that is named distinctively, perhaps in line with nomenclature current in Judaea rather than in Egypt (see Hengel 1975). This passage is particularly important in its employment of several words that replicate what Philo would write of the teaching assembly of the Therapeutae. Those in the Essene synagogue, like other Jews, also “sit in [right] fashion,” with their “ears pricked up” (cf. ἀνωρθιακότες in §77) taught by someone “most experienced” (cf. ἐμπειρότατος §31). Philo’s terminology for synagogue buildings was otherwise different. In Mos. 2.216 synagogue buildings are called “prayer-houses” (προσευκτήρια) and in both Flacc. and Legat. a synagogue building is a “prayer-place” (προσευχή; Flacc. 41, 45, 47–49, 53, 122; Legat. 132, 134, 137–138, 148, 152, 157, 165, 191, 346, 371, cf. Acts 16:13; Josephus, Vita 54). This latter term, proseuchē, is found in numerous Jewish inscriptions in Egypt to indicate the building itself (see Horbury and Noy 1992, 9, 13, 22, 24, 25, 27, 28, 117, 125, 126; CPJ I: 129, 134, 138 II, 432; see also Levine 2005, 83–84). This would suggest that Philo uses the term προσευχή for “synagogue” as a building in the way that was normative in the inscriptions, and not the term συναγωγή, which is either distinctively Essene or Judaean. and sit sequentially according to age They “sit” (καθέζονται) here, which implies that there are benches or banks. The adverb ἑξῆς indicates a sequence of places in terms of rank (cf. Prob. 12). While Philo refers to an order based on age here, in § 67 he will indicate that the concept of eldership is not in fact dependent on actual physical age. The emphasis on the sequential seating arrangements in terms of a specific hierarchy is found also in §§66–67 and §75; everyone is conscious of where they are in relation to others. A similar concern for a hierarchical arrangement is noted by Chaeremon in regard to the Egyptian priests, who had a symbol indicative of the rank they had obtained (Porphyry, Abst. 4.6.7).

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It is important to note that the sitting on benches or banks would suggest a synagogue space. For further on how the space where they meet is envisaged, see below §§32–33. with the proper posture, keeping the hands inside, the right hand between chest and chin, the left one drawn back along the thigh In Colson’s translation (PLCL 9:131), this phrase is given as “with their hands inside the robe,” which perhaps suggests the way priests of Isis covered their hands when carrying vases of the sacred Nile waters. According to Chaeremon (Porphyry, Abst. 4.6), writing of Egyptian priests: “They kept their hands always within their clothing.” This posture may have been particularly modest and decent (Taylor 2003, 292–293). However, there may well also be something distinctively Jewish in terms of this posture. Philo uses similar language in Somn. 2.126 when he describes the bad governor as saying to the Jews: “Will you go out and assemble according to the customary figure, with the right hand inside (τὴν … δεξιὰν εἴσω χεῖρα), and the other one under the outer mantle (ὑπο τῆς ἀμπεχόνης) held along the thighs (παρά ταῖς λαγόσι πήξαντες)?” This way of draping the ἀμπεχόνη or himation (mantle or outer garment) is not uncommon: statuary can show figures with their right arm tucked close to the chest in the fold of the himation (hand uncovered), with the left hand by the body (see Taylor 2003, 292–293). Interestingly, Philo is depicted draped in this way, with his left hand covered and his right exposed, in two portraits of the 9th-century Paris manuscript of the Sacra Parallela (Paris Gr. 923: 305 v and 310 v). Since the left hand was associated with negative things, it could have been covered to be particularly decent. Nevertheless, in adopting this posture, it may also be that Jews were stating something distinctive about a refusal to use the hands in work on the Sabbath: the hands are tucked away (see Nikiprowetsky 1996, 212; Daumas and Miquel 1963, 100). Somn. 2.126 assumes a Sabbath context, as here, and so it may imply that at Sabbath meetings there was a particularly correct way of sitting that was attentive, discreet and indicative of nonaction. (§31) After coming forward, the one most senior and most experienced in the doctrines gives a talk The word for “coming forward” (παρελθὼν) more literally means “passing by”, and indicates movement through space, with this person passing by the others to come to a position to speak (see for this LSJ 1337 VI). For “most experienced” (ἐμπειρότατος) Colson (PLCL 9:131) has: “one who has the fullest knowledge”; Conybeare (1894, 759): “most skilled;” Daumas and Miquel (1963, 101), “le plus versé”; the sense is of one who is expert in the doctrines. These doctrines

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(δόγματα) are philosophical: those that the group adheres to, as in §§ 26, 35, and 68. This suggests that the speaker has not merely cognitive comprehension but long years of living by those teachings, conforming his or her way of life to those core principles or convictions. That the speaker may at different times be either male or female seems to be implied by the qualifications Philo gives for the role: one most senior and with the fullest knowledge of the doctrines. While Philo envisages this person as a male, and may well have witnessed a man talking, the masculine terms can function as inclusive in Greek, even in the singular (see Taylor 2003, 103). There is in this treatise a reference to a hierarchy with seniors/elders overall, and one who is the “eldest” or “most senior” is presented as the one who is to speak. The way in which this person is designated the most senior is not indicated. The πρεσβύτεροι as a group of elders/seniors are found also in §§ 67 (×2) and 73 and appear to be the main subjects of Philo’s portrayal of the ideal contemplative life, but here the focus is on the one who is designated the highest among them, the same person who will be defined as the πρόεδρος, “president,” in §§75 and 79. For further on the “elders” or “seniors” of this group and elsewhere see discussion on §67. with gaze steady, with voice steady, with reason and consideration Colson (PLCL 9:131) links the adjectives with the appearance of the speaker, thus “with visage and voice alike quiet and composed”. This description of the speaker’s demeanour parallels what is found later in §§ 75–77. In § 75 the speaker is also described as having no interest in show, with no concern for reputation or clever oratory. The word for “steady” (καθίστημι), is repeated. Here the steady way the talk is delivered perfectly coheres with Roman ideals in terms of philosophical discourse, as can be seen by Seneca’s Ep. 40, where a slow and careful delivery is the mark of a sensible Roman philosopher, in contrast to some orators among the Greeks. The implication seems to be that the speech is not marked by emotional excitement, let alone frenzy, but rather by consideration and sobriety (cf. § 14). Philo’s own allegorical commentaries have a tone which is both sober and reasoned, and he is probably implying that the speaker uses a rather similar style. not showing off with a display of words like the orators or sophists of today As noted regarding §4, Philo has a low opinion of “sophists”. They are clever talkers who are just out for show with their wordy speeches, designed to impress rather than truly lead people to philosophical truth. He uses the term negatively 43 times in his writings. However, the word “orator” (ῥήτωρ) is found

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only here in all of Philo’s extant corpus. It may refer to a public speaker in general, but also to a teacher of rhetoric, a rhetorician (LSJ 1570), as in the Latin rhetor. This statement harks back to what Philo says at the beginning of the treatise: that he is not trying to be impressive in his language, like poets and story-tellers (§1), who are lumped with sophists in Opif. 157. but rather he has examined the accuracy in the thoughts and so interprets. This talk does not stay on the tips of the ears, but comes through the hearing to the soul and there remains securely The word ἀλλά often has the sense of “but rather.” Note that the word διηρευνηκώς is the perfect masculine participle of the verb διερευνάω, “investigate,” “examine,” and implies there is something that is being interpreted: the Scripture previously mentioned. The use of the perfect indicates a sequential element here. The speaker is equipped to talk because s/he has already successfully examined the accuracy of the thoughts within the sacred writings they have been working on in their huts (§§28–29). The καί here indicates a following action, since the speaker “is interpreting” (διερμηνεύων) methodically on the basis of the prior examination. Note the alliteration of διηρευνηκώς and διερμηνεύων. There is no mention of prayer, song, discussion or reading Scripture aloud in this meeting; Philo present things as if the gathering is all about education. All the others listen in silence; they indicate agreement by a look or by a nodding of the head, this alone This description overall should be viewed along with §§ 75–77. As Larsen (2016) has explored, the correct attitude of respectful silence during a discourse was esteemed in the Roman world (so Plutarch, Rect. rat. aud. 39c). Ultimately, for Plutarch, “right listening is the beginning of right living” (Rect. rat. aud. 48d), and he notes also how people who listen with gravity and silence gain a reputation for poise and profundity, so much so that people can even affect this way of listening with an eye to being commended (44b). Thus, Philo ends his description of the response of the listeners by stating that they show an indication of agreement by a simple look or nod, “this alone”. Control of the expression and gaze is also something mentioned by Chaeremon as being a feature of the Egyptian priests (Porpyhry, Abst. 4.6.7).

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(§32) This common sanctuary (semneion) into which they come together on seventh days is a divided enclosure (peribolos), the one part set aside for the male-area (andrōn), and the one into the female-area (gunaikōnitis). For indeed also women customarily listen together It was already noted in §30 that in the Sabbath meeting the group here are described as sitting (καθέζονται), in a particularly formal way. That this mode coheres with what is said of bodily comportment in synagogue assemblies, and that it is conceptualized as a “school”. However, the meeting place is described as a σεμνεῖον, a rare word that is probably best translated as a “sanctuary;” this is the same word as previously used in §25 for the inner part of the individual huts, where this space is understood as “sacred.” The total space is also referred to as an “enclosure” (περίβολος), a term that would indicate a walled space. In Philo’s writings this word can refer to the walled enclosures of the tabernacle or Temple complex (Mut. 43; Abr. 128; Mos. 2.92, 231; Spec. 1.74, 261; Legat. 212), but it does not have a necessary correlation with a sacred enclosure; rather it indicates a walled enclosure of many kinds (Opif. 143, Mos. 2.241; Aet. 73; Flacc. 123; Legat. 214, 347) including a field enclosure (Agr. 14), and it can refer to the surrounding wall itself (Mut. 74; Mos. 1.229; Spec. 1.71). This walled space also has a roof, mentioned in §33. Importantly, in Flacc. 48 Jews are described as no longer having their sacred enclosures: ούκ ἔχοντες ἱεροὺς περιβόλους, defined as their “prayer-houses,” προσευχαί. It was noted above in §30 that the people of this group “sit sequentially according to age,” which indicates they were sitting in order on benches or banks. This may itself imply a synagogue, since, as Rachel Hachlili states: “The most important and distinctive element of these Second Temple period communal synagogue structures are the benches lining the walls, which must have been specifically added for the congregants to sit upon when congregating and worshiping, the focus being the center of the hall” (Hachlili 2013, 46). While numerous inscriptions have been found from Graeco-Roman Egypt indicating the presence of synagogues, no actual synagogue has thus far been excavated. The synagogue is often thought to have begun in Egypt (Griffiths 1987; Kasher 1995), with prior Jewish sanctuaries being temples: at Leontopolis in the nome of Heliopolis (Hayward 1982; Schiffman 1998 and Taylor 1998) and at Elephantine on the Nile River north of Aswan (Porten et al. 1996). The internal arrangement may have been similar to that of wider Judaea in being a hall with tiered benches around it, with a focus on the middle of the space. However, in no such cases is there evidence of a divided space as Philo presents it here. In Alexandria itself, the closest parallels to a benched room enclosure are the auditoria that have come to light in Kom el-Dikka (Majcherek 2010), excavated

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by the Polish Centre of Mediterranean Archaeology (University of Warsaw). As Majcherek (2010, 473) states, “[s]tone benches were the most important interior furnishing, present in all the units.” However, unlike in the synagogues excavated in Palestine, here Majcherek notes that a “distinctive feature in all of the halls is the central dais on the short side opposite the entrance.” In this case the speaker’s dais is at the far end from the entrance, where in excavated synagogues the Torah ark would normally be. However, the auditoria date most likely from the 5th–6th centuries CE, and cannot therefore be used as a definitive parallel for the kinds of auditoria known at the time of Philo, though some have earlier structures under their floors. Nevertheless, that Philo refers to synagogues as didaskaleia is interesting given that this is the kind of structure that is found in Kom el-Dikka: school rooms. In fact, in Somn. 2.139 all the people of the synagogue are praying “standing right opposite (each other) arranged in order by rank with hands lifted up” (στάντες ἀντικρὺς οὕτω κατὰ στοῖχον ἐν κόσμῳ τὰς χεῖρας ἐξάραντες). This provides a vivid image of synagogue worship in which people are indeed placed in banks facing each other, as in auditoria and in the synagogues excavated in Palestine. In two cases in Kom el-Dikka there are divided auditoria with the dais in an apse at the furthest away point from the entry, and benches on either side of it, but a wall subdivides the space into a front (outer) and back (inner) part (areas O, P, R, S in ibid. Fig. 1 and 4). As Majcherek (2010, 473) states, in the outer room, “[l]ateral sections of the wall could have concealed the sides of the benches, while leaving a clear view of the apse. Both outer-rooms were again furnished with a single row of benches lining the opposite walls.” Notably, in Contempl, “this common sanctuary” is divided into two areas: an andrōn and a gunaikōnitis, male and female spaces. Chad Spigel (2012, 68–69) has used Contempl. as indicative of separate seating for men and women in synagogues; the group replicate common practice. Regarding the separation of men and women among the Therapeutae it has been asked whether there was an upper women’s gallery in synagogues and whether this concept was being replicated here (Winston 1981, 317–318). In the Palestinian Talmud there is a reference to the slaughter of Jews in the Alexandrian synagogue, described as a diplostoon, a term similar to that found regarding secular basilicas (Vitruvius, De architectura, 5.1.6), which usually implied a higher and lower level. This is borne out in the words of the women who say, after the men have been killed, “Do to those above as you have done to those below” (j.Sukkah 5.1 [55b], though see Spigel 2012, 71 n. 40 on the textual and translation problems). This type of synagogue construction may be evidenced in Khirbet Susiya (4th–5th centuries; see Mattila 1996b, 274; Spigel 2012, 75; Hachlili 2013, 73), but not earlier. However, this is a bit of a red herring. Even if there was an upper gallery in

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the great synagogue of Alexandria, this is not how space is configured in the “sanctuary” of the Therapeutae. In fact, single level divisions of space are also evidenced in rabbinic literature, as well as a concern for a decent separation of men and women: a partition of canes is noted by Rabbi Raba and one of rugs by Rabbi Abaye (b.Kidd. 81a; Mattila 1996b, 274; Winston 1981, 317– 318). Likewise irrelevant is the construction of the Temple enclosures with the Court of the Women, exterior to the Court of the Israelites (Josephus, B.J. 5.198–200; C. Ap. 2.102–104; m. Mid. 2.5; b. Sukk. 51b–52a) since here it seems it is simply a court in which both men and women were allowed, rather than women only, while men were only allowed in the Court of the Israelites. Additionally, whatever we may define as the practice and arrangements in synagogues, Philo tends to indicate that (ideally) women did not attend synagogue (Taylor 2003, 276–277): on Sabbath days, properly, a man returns home to the household in the evening and explains what he has heard of the laws to his wife, children and servants (Hypoth. 7.14). In Spec. 3.171 Philo states that women should not be concerned with matters outside the household: a woman should cultivate solitude, and not be seen in front of men, going to the “temple” (not synagogue) only in the least busy time of the day. This concept of women being not appropriately out in public, however, may be laid aside if the enclosure in which the Therapeutae meet is conceptualized as fundamentally private. In Contempl. the words used for the male and female areas of the divided enclosure (διπλοῦς … περίβολος) are known from domestic architecture, since in Hellenistic Egypt the front part of the house, also used for male dinner parties, was designated as the male space, ἀνδρῶν, while the back part of the house was the female space, γυναικωνῖτις: the women’s apartments, a division reflected in Philo’s works (see Taylor 2003, 266–274). The word γυναικωνῖτις was the term used by Josephus (B.J. 5.199) of the women’s court in the Temple precincts, but for Philo the word is only used in a domestic context (cf. Leg. 3.98; Sacr. 103; Agr. 79; Migr. 96; Somn. 2.9, 55, 184; Legat. 358). Philo therefore fuses concepts of domestic architecture with a meeting space that would normally be understood to be a synagogue or auditorium for teaching. Women can apparently be accommodated as a (just) positive feature in this treatise as long as women’s modesty is assured. having the same purpose and the same practice. The word translated “purpose” here is ζῆλος, perhaps better a “seeking,” or “craving,” expressing a desire to emulate an ideal; προαίρεσις indicates the chosen lifestyle of this group, see §§2, 17, 29, 67, 79, and should be translated as “practice” (see §2). The way that women are characterized in Contempl. has been

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much discussed, particularly in Taylor 2003. The women have the same purpose to emulate the ideal of the contemplative life, and the same practice as the men of the group. Everything then that is said of the practice of the group includes the women as much as the men (e.g., reading, writing allegorical commentaries and composing music). Overall, Philo accommodates them in the treatise in a way that does not sit comfortably with what he states elsewhere about women’s place, role or capabilities. For example, Philo states in Sacr. 100 that neither men nor women should attempt to gain the functions which are appropriate to the other sex. Sameness between men and women was not Philo’s ideal. (§33) The wall between the rooms from the floor to the top is about three or four cubits, constructed in the form of a protection Here τῶν οἴκων is “the rooms” since there seems to be one roofed hall in which there are two areas. The common translation of “breastwork,” for θωρακίου (so Colson, PLCL 9:133), applies a military term to this construction and does not make very good architectural sense. Rather, the sense here seems similar to the usage of Josephus, B.J. 5.317, where it means something protective. There is only one other place where Philo uses the word θωράκιον: in Spec. 3.149, interpreting Deut 22:8. In this case it refers to the “unguarded roof”: the need to ring flat roofs with “parapets” to prevent anyone from falling over the edge, and it is accordingly translated as “parapet” here by Colson (PLCL 7:569, 638–639). However, the word “parapet” is really only appropriate for a roof, otherwise it is just a protective wall. A cubit in Hellenistic Egypt was about 45 cm or 18 inches (Stone 2014), meaning the height of the wall was between 1.35–1.8 m. high, about 4′5″ to 5′9″, thus approximately 1.6m. or 5′2″. with the higher part rising up to roof left open The airy openness of the upper part of the space where the low wall is located is emphasized by assonance using a succession of ‘a’ sounds: ἄχρι, ἀνάγειον, ἀχανές, ἀνεῖται. These are lost in translation. Note that here Philo indicates that they are in a roofed space, not in an open courtyard, and we need to imagine it as a room or hall with benches. for reason of two things: that the proper modesty in the womanly nature be protected The dividing wall is configured in terms of preserving women’s modesty, a key concern for Philo in order to ensure that the women of the group are not considered in any way loose and sexualized, accusations that were common criticisms of philosophical women (see Taylor 2003, 173–226). There is no indication

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that the wall preserves the men from being distracted. Philo here indicates a belief that women’s intrinsic nature requires “modesty”, or more accurately “shame” (αἰδώς), thus showing that men and women are considered to have natures that are distinctively different. The concept of proper sexual conduct or modesty (Latin: pudicitia) was an important one for women in Rome that demanded a level of performance (see Langlands 2006, 37–77). Normally, elite women’s modesty could be easily supplied by having the right clothing: a long tunic (stolē) and expansive mantle that covered the body and could be drawn over the head. However, we will discover in § 38 that the Therapeutae opt for extremely basic apparel and the women appear to have worn an Egyptian-style linen wrap (othonē). In this case, their arms would have been exposed. Their modesty would not usually have been preserved. Their bare skin may well have been considered a distraction to a male speaker. Therefore, the wall in fact supplies the barrier that is otherwise normally supplied by clothing. This seems to solve why later on, when Philo describes the symposium of the group, in a common dining space, he does not continue this emphasis on the preservation of women’s modesty: there is no wall mentioned at this time. Here, the focus initially is on men and women dining apart from each other (§§68–69) until this all breaks down in combined singing and dancing. He in fact signals that each person arrives in this dining room “dressed in white” (§ 66) implying different, more dignified, apparel. and that, sitting in ear-shot, they have easy reception, with nothing impeding the voice of the one talking Philo presents the women as listeners here, not speakers, but they have the same purpose and practice as the men (see Taylor 2003, 274–282). The women are arranged in order in the correct posture, as indicated in § 30. Nothing impedes the voice of the speaker because the space above the wall is open, but the wall is sufficiently high to protect their modesty. The wall itself seems to reflect some concept of a mechitza, dividing wall (cf. b. Sukk. 51b, 52b), but it is difficult to imagine how this wall could actually work practically in ancient synagogues with tiered banks that have been found in Israel-Palestine and elsewhere, where the higher banks would mean that people sat at a level that would give them an eye-height higher than the wall height of 1.6m (5′2″). The auditoria of Kom el-Dikka have banks that are quite low, about 30cm high, and therefore one could just have people sitting down on the lower ones and reaching about 1m to 1.2 m., with a higher bank at 1.3–1.6m., so only two banks could then be envisaged in this space. In Kom el-Dikka there are auditoria with only two banks (D, G, O, T) and even just

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The Divided Space of the Sanctuary—Option A

with one (C, R) so this would not be anomalous if the pattern of Kom el-Dikka did continue more ancient forms. However, if this were a space that has been adapted for use as a synagogue within a private villa, we do not need to imagine that there are banks as such. The seating could simply be on wooden benches. The height of the wall is designed to protect women’s modesty while sitting. One might assume it is from the men of the group, but the focus is entirely on the relationship between the women and the speaker, not the men, and the speaker is presented by Philo here as a man, despite the fact that the group itself may have applied the criteria of excellence that warranted someone becoming a speaker in gender-neutral terms. In terms of the (male) speaker’s positioning, we are told that he comes forward (παρελθῶν): given this is a male speaker he presumably remains in male space. He would also sit, as was common for teachers in antiquity. As noted, that Philo uses the language of the private dwelling may account for the fact that Philo’s choice of the word σεμνεῖον is strikingly not the one he normally uses for a synagogue: προσευχή. While it is a meeting place for the group on seventh days, like a synagogue, there is something different about it, being in space that is not configured as public (Taylor 2003, 277), and it is also differently arranged. The wall appears to assume that everyone sits evenly, and the height of the wall is then taken as higher than the maximum eye level of seated male speaker and the women in relation to the male speaker. The wall which protects women’s modesty may be conceptualized in two ways, either as one that divides the central space down the middle, creating a left and right side (with the male speaker on the right side) or as a wall that

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figure 3

The Divided Space of the Sanctuary—Option B

divides the space into a front and back part, with the women at the back. Given the way the gunaikōnitis is configured as the back part of a usual house, with the front part being the door from the semi-public space, Philo might consider this space in the meeting room to have been at the back, away from the door. If so, then they were expected to go in first and there was some opening in the wall. Alternatively, the architectural space could have been divided as at Kom elDikka (see p. 198). The description of a room that is divided does not indicate that the male space was larger or more important. It may be noted also that in the case of a front and back division, it would still be possible for there to be at times a female speaker, in the women’s space, with the wall allowing her voice to be heard by the men. The spatial division does not restrict women’s voices, though Philo presents things with a man doing the talking and women doing the listening, while protecting their modesty during the talk (and only during the talk) in a mixed-sex environment of people sitting down. In concluding this subject of housing, both private and communal, we may then reflect on the concept of the True Ways as it may be played out here. Thus, it seems here that the contrasting aspects are far more implied than stated explicitly in this section. There seems to be a build up to what will come next, which is a very substantial discussion of contrasting examples in regard to symposia in §§40–63, which are characterized as being full of “foolishness” (§64), contrasted with the wisdom manifested in the life of the Therapeutae. From what has been said thus far, however, we may well be expecting the contrasting examples to concern themselves with some of these topics.

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Truth

Falsehood

huts well spaced sacred room (single and communal) remembrance of God order and decency correct speaking and listening women’s modesty preserved

closely packed or too far apart (§ 24) ? [no sanctity] (§§ 25, 30) ? [forgetfulness of God] § 26 ? [disorder and indecency] (§ 30) ? [bad speaking, bad listening] (§ 31) ? [women immodest] (§ 33)

D

Food §§34–37

The next part of the treatise in §§34–37 picks up on what has been said in § 27 about the prayers at sunrise and sunset, since during the day the Therapeutae are entirely occupied with study and devotion, whereas at night there is some catering to the needs of the body, and the introduction of food that may be considered alluring to the senses. Their attitude to food must then be exemplary. Despite conceding that the people of this group eat after sunset, Philo goes on to remark that some of the people in this group do not think of food after three days, or six days (§35). Philo now says that on the seventh day or Sabbath the people he is concerned with take care of their bodies after caring for their souls. Some would only allow themselves on seventh days to rest from their work and nurture the body (§36), when they eat the necessary things without which life could not be sustained, avoiding complete satisfaction (§ 37). We will see that they eat and drink sometime after the Sabbath worship service in a communal dinner. Colson supposes that on the Sabbath they do not wait for the hours of darkness but go ahead and eat and drink before sunset (PLCL 9:521), though later on in the treatise the meal for the Sabbath of Sabbaths does take place at night (§§67–90). In §37 food and drink are regarded as propitiations of the mistresses hunger and thirst, which mother Nature has set to govern mortal creatures, not just human beings but all animals, birds, insects and fish. However, to guard against indulgence, the Therapeutae only eat and drink enough to be sated. Porphyry, Abst. 4.6.8–9 quotes Chaeremon’s report that the Egyptian priests were similarly careful with their diet: “Their lifestyle was frugal and simple. Some tasted no wine at all, others a very little: they accused it of causing damage to the nerves and a fullness in the head which impedes research, and of producing

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desire for sex. In the same way they also treated other foods with caution, and in their times of holiness did not eat bread at all. When they were not in a state of holiness they ate it with chopped hyssop, for they said that hyssop eliminated most of the force of bread. Some of them abstained from oil most of the time, but the majority did so entirely. If they used it with vegetables, it was only a very little, just enough to make the taste milder” (transl. Clark 2000, 104– 105). While this shows moderation and austerity at certain times of holiness, the Therapeutae are shown to excel even further in their diet. This ascetic ideal is directly linked with those who allegorize Scripture, who are associated with an ascetic life. In Migr. 90, Philo writes that the extreme allegorists try to live like “souls without connection to the body.” The theme of eating and drinking will become a key theme of the treatise, with the ascetic eating and drinking of the Theraepeutae contrasted with the gluttonous eating and drinking of those in Hellenistic banquets, but this will not be fully developed until Philo presents the Therapeutae’s communal dinner. Detailed Comments (§34) Putting down beforehand self-control as a kind of foundation of the soul, they build up the other virtues on it The term “self-control” (ἐγκράτεια) was widely associated with andreia as a masculine virtue (Stowers 1994, 42–82). It has strong associations in Stoicism, and Philo refers to it frequently in his writings, as an ideal (e.g., Leg. 1.63– 64; Virt. 13–14; Her. 48, 253–254; Spec. 2.195; 4.122; Somn. 1.124, see Graffigna 1992, 126–127), which was the opposite of desire (Spec. 1.149), and taught in the 10 Commandments (Spec. 4.96–97). The word ἐγκράτεια is used only here in Contempl. but the entire treatise shows people exhibiting this capacity (Hay 1992, 680). The introduction of this virtue follows shortly after the modesty of women is presented, and their Sabbath meetings are described as being very ordered and demure, creating a close link with the notions of modesty, order and self-control. Likewise, in Charemon’s description of the Egyptian priests, self-control is identified as a feature of their life (Abst. 4.8.1, 3, 5) and they “practised simplicity, restraint, self-control, perseverance and in everything justice and absence of greed” (Abst. 4.6.4, trans. Clark 2000, 104). Food and drink none of them would ever deal with before the setting of the sun The word προσενέγκαιτο is the 3rd singular Aorist optative middle of προσφέρω, translated “deal with,” not just as an alternative way of saying “eat.” The word is quite flexible in Hellenistic Greek, but in Philo’s writings it means “apply,”

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“treat” or “deal with” (e.g., Prob. 91. 96; Aet. 98; Flacc. 4). In § 25 Philo said the Therapeutae take no food or drink into their individual sanctuaries, σεμνεῖα, the inner parts of their huts where they do their studies, also known as μοναστήρια, which seems to indicate that food and drink may be brought into the outer parts. It should be noted that those engaged in contemplation from sunrise to sunset are not described as preparing food, but they lay it out and eat it. In fact, this shows how Philo narrows down his description of the Therapeutae to focus only on the senior members of the group, who will in due course be those who recline for dinner, waited on by juniors (see §§72, 81). As noted by Taylor (2003, 100), since the people in question are not said to leave their huts for six days (§30), they still eat (or at least have the option of eating) and drink after sunset (§33): “The incidental appearance of food in Philo’s description must make us aware of his rhetoric: he is only interested in the treatise in the senior members of the Mareotic community.” since they judge philosophizing to be appropriate for light, while the needs of the body are appropriate for darkness The occupation of the group explicitly concerns philosophy. They are prime philosophers, “doing philosophy” in practice and thought. They call out the decrees of the sacred philosophy while dreaming (§ 26), interpret allegorically the inherited philosophy (§28), follow the contemplative part of philosophy (§67). This would have been obvious to all listeners/readers. Here the Two Ways dichotomy in amply clear: as light correlates with doing philosophy, darkness correlates with bodily needs. so the former they have allotted for the day, and to these latter needs they have allotted a certain small part of the night. The first indication of the self-mastery of the Therapeutae is their careful reserving of daylight hours to pursuit of philosophy, giving only a small part of the night to bodily needs. One might compare what Josephus states about Essenes not going to the toilet in a way that would offend the sun’s (= God’s seeing) rays (B.J. 2.147–149; so Winston 1981, 318; Daumas and Miquel 1963, 102), but this is not quite the same issue. In the case of the Essenes this appears to be an interpretation of Deut 23:13–15 (see Taylor 2012, 80–81) not an essentializing dichotomy between philosophy in daylight and bodily needs at night. In fact in Josephus’s account the Essenes eat the first of two meals in the daylight at the fifth hour (11 am; B.J. 2.128–131). Philo’s emphasis here is on the self-denial shown in their management of hunger pangs throughout the day. He does not explain just why it is not right to

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care for bodily needs except in hours of darkness. A binary opposition between light and darkness correlated with mind (or soul) versus body is assumed here. Evidently this goes back to the Therapeutae themselves, since it is not a dualism that Philo explains here or embraces in his other writings. Perhaps we can also conclude that they do not try to philosophize during hours of darkness by lamplight, though they so inhabit a mindset of awareness that even in dreams they are, in a sense, philosophizing (§26). (§35) Some, in which a greater passion for understanding is implanted, remember food only after three days. The people who live in huts are so engaged in their contemplation of Scripture, the music and their meditations that they do not stop for food during the time of darkness. There is no indication that they prepare food, or assemble anywhere for it. Philo here makes distinctions among this group: some take food and drink apparently every evening, while others fast for three days and some fast for six days a week. He implies that those who eat and drink less frequently do so because they are more enamoured of, or satisfied with, the non-physical food supplied by Wisdom’s doctrines. So some Therapeutae are more “spiritual” than others. Physical things are not denigrated, but the positive pleasures of philosophizing cause some to forget to eat and drink more than others. Still others are so gladdened and delighted by Wisdom/Sophia, having been feasted richly and unreservedly on the doctrines she has provided The word translated “delighted” (τρυφῶσιν, from τρυφάω) has various meanings (LSJ 1831), but in Philo’s works it is used in an active sense to indicate delight in material comforts (as in LXX Neh. 9:25, e.g. Agr. 48, 150; Somn. 1.121; Decal. 117; Spec. 1.134; Flacc. 184), though it can also be used of people who are dainty or delicate (Somn. 1.125). It occurs in the latter sense in § 73 in regard to eating bread and salt with hyssop seasoning, which they have for “the more delicate ones.” Wisdom/Sophia appears again as being a feminine personification who provides for those who are passionate about her. The philosophers feed on philosophy. that they are able to hold out for even double the time and only after six days taste necessary food, having become accustomed, as it is said of the species of grasshoppers, to live on air; the song, as I believe, assuages the want. Philo refers to writing of examples of people like this at the beginning of Prob., in regard to a treatise that is now lost, and mentions how his opponents will

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scoff at his comment that those who are materially rich are really poor (Prob. 8), saying to him: “You call those rich who are utterly destitute, lacking the very necessities … feeding on the empty breath of virtue as grasshoppers are said to feed on air.” Philo may be thinking of Hesiod, Scut., 393–397, where there are grasshoppers living on dew (cf. Anacreon, Ode 43). The concluding comparison of the abstemious Therapeutae with grasshoppers may have more than one level of meaning. On the surface, which is all that Philo clearly attends to, the members of the group who eat very little are like grasshoppers who are supposed to live on nothing but air. But Philo adds that apparently the grasshoppers can do this easily because of their singing. The song of cicadas or grasshoppers was something much commented upon in Greek literature positively (see Myers 1929, 3–21). A notable passage in Plato may, however, be alluded to. In Phaedrus 259b–c Socrates argues that people should be willing to philosophize during the noontime heat because the grasshoppers/locusts “need no sustenance and sing until they die without food or drink.” Socrates recalls a story that says that locusts were once humans who were so overcome by the Muses’ gift of song that they sang and sang, forgetting food and drink, until they died. Socrates goes on to say that the locusts listen to people and report those who devote themselves to philosophy and are “most concerned with heaven and with thought divine and human and whose music is the sweetest” (see further Graffigna 1992, 128–129). It seems highly probable that Philo deliberately alludes to this passage in the Phaedrus. For him the Therapeutae are like Socrates in that they resemble locusts not only in eating almost nothing physical but also because they are philosophers concerned with heavenly matters. Their philosophizing is so sweet and pleasant that they all but forget about physical nourishment. Part of their philosophical study leads to the composing and singing of hymns (§§ 29, 80–81, 84, 87–88). Even in this they resemble Socrates who, near the end of his life, felt that he was divinely commanded in dreams (cf. § 26) to “make music.” He had always thought philosophy the best kind of music-making, but now felt Apollo wanted him to literally make music, so he composed verses, including a hymn to Apollo (Phaedo 60d–61b). Winston (1981, 313) points out that in QG 3.3 Philo speaks of heavenly singing (or music of the heavenly spheres) which God providentially does not allow humans to hear because it would produce in them madness, indescribable pleasure, ecstatic indifference to food and drink and “an untimely death through hunger in their desire for the song,” which Philo then compares with the baleful song of Homer’s Sirens (Od. 12.39–40). Winston further notes comparable ideas in a statement of b. Sanh. 95b and in later Islamic mysticism. This notion of this lethal heavenly music may be linked somehow to Socrates’s tale

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of the men who became locusts through lack of food, and Philo may think of the literal music-making of the Therapeutae as distractingly lovely—like their philosophical piety and thoughts (§88). Yet he plainly asserts that the Therapeutae do not altogether forget their need for physical nourishment. (§36) The seventh day, though, which they consider to be something very holy and very festive, they have deemed worthy of a choice prize of honour We now return to mention of the seventh day. This statement introduces a key matter to which most of the rest of the treatise on the Therapeutae is dedicated, with its primary focus being on both the Sabbath dinner, and the Sabbath of Sabbaths dinner, the perfection of both being emphasized by the portrayal of their antithesis in the symposia of the Greeks. The Sabbath, and honouring the Sabbath, is the key underlying concern. In the translation the word “though” is used for Greek δέ to indicate a contrast with the solitary behaviour just described. The seventh day has already been introduced in § 30 and § 32 but without explanation, as if the number seven itself is all we need to know (and for further see below §65). We are simply given an image of hours of daylight activity not spent in the “solitaria” of the huts but rather in a common assembly, where all listen to a speaker (§§30–34), before we are introduced to the issue of food, so that readers/hearers are led to imagine that some of those listening in the assembly have not actually eaten all week. The sense of there being a hierarchy of excellence is found not only in the sitting arrangements in the assembly but also in the attitude to nourishment. We then go on to learn more about the food eaten in community after the Sabbath discourse (§ 37), that is here introduced as a festive meal. Mention of the seventh day’s importance points forward to § 65 where it is defined in Pythagorean numerological terms (as in Opif. 98–128, cf. Leg. 1.5–18). Philo extols the number 7 itself: seven is the most peaceful (Mos. 2.21–22). The seventh day is a festival for all the world (Opif. 89). Here the expressions “very holy” (πανίερον), and “very festive” (πανέορτον), describe the essentials of why the seventh day is important for this group, as for all Jews, though no attempt is made to emphasize here that this is a common view held in Judaism. It is stated, nevertheless, as information, as if the audience might not know that the group would celebrate the seventh day in this way or hold it sacred. In mentioning holiness, this again harks back to Chaeremon’s work on the Egyptian priests, where there is a specific focus on what they do during periods of “holiness” (Abst. 4.6.5, 9; 4.7.2). In the Hypothetica, Philo devotes some time to explaining what the seventh day is in Judaism, countering the notion that it is a time of idleness (Hypoth.

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7.10–14; Abr. 28–30). In Contempl. the same message is hinted at more subtly, in that the day is spent in a continuation of the spiritual exercise that has been done solitarily. There is no idleness here. This links with what Philo states elsewhere, that the mind is the seventh (perfect) faculty that should on this day be focused (Deus 10–13; Abr. 28–30; Decal. 102–105). The Sabbath is appropriate for philosophical undertaking, and Moses taught philosophy on this day. Jews gather to study the ancestral philosophy on this precedent (Mos. 2.213–220; Spec. 2.65–67), so it should be a day “devoted to the study of wisdom” (Decal. 115–117). It is a sacred day belonging to God, a day of sanctity and purity (Spec. 2.41, 56–71), not to be undermined by anything (Cher. 87–101). The seventh day is regarded with the utmost reverence and wonder (Somn. 2.123–128), and on this day in “schools” of virtue Jews gather to be taught (Spec. 2.60–62; for further see McKay 1994, 65–67; Doering 1999, 377–383; Calaway 2013, 89–91). Essenes assemble on this day (Prob. 81–83), so do all other Jews, though the process within the Essene assembly is described as different (cf. § 31), with each man being a reader or interpreter. Someone comes forward to speak and another to expound in a more egalitarian way; however, the Therapeutae entirely listen to one designated person who is doing the talking. On this day, after the care of the soul, they also lubricate the body The verb λιπαίνω has a basic sense of “lubricate,” “oil (something)” (LSJ 1052), so Philo’s phrase about caring for the body here, καὶ τὸ σῶμα λιπαίνουσιν, means “and they lubricate the body.” Winston (1981, 318–319) and Daumas and Miquel (1963, 104–105) advocate that the Therapeutae anointed their bodies with oil on the Sabbath. Colson (LCL 9:134 a, 520), however, remarks persuasively that one should not read this literally, that in the context Philo has been describing the Therapeutae’s abstemiousness regarding food, and notes a similar use of the verb without reference to oil is found in Spec. 4.74, though here it means to “soften” something hard, and indeed lubricate it. Colson then translates “they refresh the body.” The translation “lubricate” would fit with Philo’s other uses of the verb (Post. 121; Congr. 160; Ios. 109; Mos. 1.118; Praem. 161), however. The Therapeutae “after the care (ἐπιμέλεια) of the soul”, having relished all the “alternative foods” that Wisdom/Sophia has supplied (§ 35), care also for the body, It is clear that we should not read §34 as implying a sharp devaluation of bodily life or equation of darkness with evil. Rather we should read this as meaning simply that during the other days of the week the Therapeutae give so much attention to the soul and their allegorical philosophizing that they relegate physical matters to the evening. Likewise, as we have previously pointed out, the all-night festive event of the Sabbath of Sabbaths can hardly imply

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that night-time is conceived as a time when evil powers are active or in control. Even though darkness functions as the opposite of light in the Two Ways dichotomy, the actual hours of darkness can be utilized for spiritual things. It is just that they are more appropriate to the physical requirements of the body. just as doubtless also they release the cattle from the continuous labour. There is a correlation between what they do for their bodies and what they do for cattle, which they “release”. The cattle are imagined here not as grazing stock but working: ploughing, for example. It may be that we could imagine that the smallholding they occupy had cattle for ploughing farmland, which supplies them with wheat for their bread and, perhaps, hyssop. Philo suggests that they spend all their daylight hours in their private studies, but elsewhere we do learn that there are “juniors,” who may have tended to the cattle (see Taylor 2003, 101). Release of cattle on the Sabbath is noted elsewhere in Philo’s works (Mos. 2.21–22; Spec. 2.69–70, grounded on Exod 20.10 and Deut 5.14). Another way to read the clause is with this sense: on the Sabbath, the Therapeutae care for their bodies just as people who own cattle give them a break from their toil on the seventh day (in accordance with Exod 20:10 and Deut 5:14), hence the Therapeutae would “doubtless,” ἀμέλει, do so as well. Colson (PLCL 9: 520) states: “the relaxation of abstinence on the sabbath is to the Therapeutae what release from labour is to the beasts of burden.” It is clearly something Philo expects even the “extreme allegorists” to agree about: that the Sabbath is about the “inactivity of created beings” (Migr. 91). However, it seems more natural to read Philo’s sentence as implying that the Therapeutae themselves own the cattle (since the participle ἀνιέντες would most easily have the same implied subject as the finite verb λιπαίνουσιν). (§37) They eat nothing costly, but rather basic bread and a dish of salt There was a common understanding that the Sabbath was a time to eat and drink (Jub. 2.21; 1Esdras 5:52; Jud. 8:6, 8; 10:2), and Philo himself sees it as a feast or festival (Decal. 96) and happy time (Mos. 2:211). However, Philo stresses that for the Therapeutae this does not entail costly food, just bread and salt. As for the “dish of salt” (ὄψον ἅλες) Colson renders this “with salt for a relish”; ἅλες cannot be the word “salt” exactly—ἅλς (masc.), in nominative plural form—since this does not work grammatically, but rather it should be an accusative singular form. However, ἅλες is also the accusative neuter singular of the adjective ἅλης, “amassed.” It seems that Philo is using this form to express something composed entirely of salt, agreeing with the neuter singular of ὄψον, as it agrees with the singular accusative προσόψημα in § 73. This seems necessary in view of how Philo uses this description in § 81. In Somn. 2.210 there is

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reference to a table that lacks φιλίων ἁλῶν, translated by Colson as “the salts of friendship,” which is equally ambiguous, since it metaphorically indicates “salt friends.” The word ὄψος (n.) in Philo’s usage refers to a dish or relish specially made by a cook (pl. Ios. 152; Her. 20; Ebr. 211, 214, 219; Spec. 1.127, 174; Virt. 182; Prob. 31). In Contempl. it is used in §53 to refer to the variety of dishes eaten in the bad symposia, and distinguished from what is defined more clearly as a seasoning ἥδυσμα (see also §§73 and 81). In short, there is probably irony here in indicating that the “dish” served up with the bread at this symposium is actually just salt. A similar abstemious diet is attributed to Pythagoreans (Iamblichus, Vita Pythag. 106–109) In the Bible salt was used to prepare sacrifices in the Temple (Lev 2:13, cf. Philo, Spec. 1.175), and was esteemed for its medicinal uses in antiquity (Dioscorides, Mat. med. 5.126–130, see Lev and Amar 2008, 274–280), but elsewhere in Philo’s writings it is said to be a great preservative. In Opif. 66 he states that salt is added to flesh so that it would not easily decay and thus symbolizes permanence (and so also Spec. 1.175, 289). It was a necessary accompaniment to what was brought in on a table (Ios. 196, 210). It is also to be noted that in the LXX version of Lev 24:7 the table of shewbread in the Temple sanctuary had both loaves of bread and salts, which Philo uses at Mos. 2.104 and Contempl. 81. which the delicate prepare with hyssop In Chaeremon’s treatise on the Egyptian priests, it is said that, when not in a time of holiness, they eat bread with chopped hyssop, which eliminated its force (Abst. 4.6.8–9). Clark (2000, 183 n. 579) notes that hyssop was thought to be warming, which enabled the stomach to digest food better (Dioscorides, Mat. med. 3.25). That hyssop is associated with those who are “delicate” would suggest that it has some medicinal function (Daumas and Miguel 1963, 106 n. 1). In Contempl. reference to a salt and hyssop mixture is found not only here but also in §73 and §81. These “delicate” people (οἱ ἁβροδίαιτοι) may appear as curious, as we have been given the impression that the lifestyle of these people requires hardship and endurance. However, the distinction between “delicate” and less delicate Therapeutae, like the distinction drawn regarding length of fasting in §§ 34–35, suggests that the Therapeutae are not a monolithic group without individual differences. This kind of differentiation within the group also provides another point of evidence favouring the hypothesis that Philo is describing an actual group rather than a utopian fantasy of his own imagination. These delicate ones are either in need of the healing qualities of the hyssop in the salt or need it to enable them to digest the bread better.

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The reference to hyssop (ὕσσωπος) would refer to an aromatic plant which also added a little more flavour to the salts. This probably indicates what we know as hyssop (Hyssopus officinalis), which was widely known in the Middle East as having a medicinal use (Lev and Amar 2008, 422–423). The word ὕσσωπος is used to translate the Hebrew word ezov in the LXX, thus in Psalm 51:7 there is the line: “Cleanse me with hyssop and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.” Thus, Winston (1981, 319) thought the hyssop somehow purified the meal. However, this probably relates to the use of the plant in the cleansing from corpse impurity (Num 19:18–20). A house in which there was leprosy was also cleansed with blood and water sprinkled on with hyssop, a live bird, cedarwood and scarlet yarn (Lev 14:4–7; 49–52). In Exod 12:22 Moses is asked to take a bunch of hyssop and dip it in the blood of lambs slaughtered, and to touch the lintel and two doorposts with this blood, to protect the Hebrews from the angel of death. It is said to be a tiny plant that grows in cracks in the walls (1Kings 4:33). In John 19:29 Jesus is given sour wine to drink placed on a sponge held up on a “hyssop,” but this is very likely to be a textual corruption of the word ὑσσός, “javelin” (pilus), as indicated in some manuscripts of the Italic tradition (Luck 2009, 182–183). Given the various ambiguities, scholars have suggested that the ezov of the Hebrew Bible is not Hyssopus officinalis, but rather Origanum syriacum, a wild marjoram which grows in Palestine, and which is a main constituent of zaatar, a mixture of herbs and salt that is added to bread dipped in oil, as a common food (Musselman 2012, 72–75). All forms of wild marjoram also have medicinal properties, as well as being aromatic flavourings. The question of whether the Therapeutae were consuming true hyssop or marjoram may be impossible to answer, but since actual hyssop is otherwise known and consumed in Egypt, there is no reason to assume that they were consuming marjoram instead. What is very interesting is that the ezov is defined as precisely the herb that one should not consume on the Sabbath, in rabbinic literature (m. Shab. 14:3) because it is medicinal, which would involve a kind of Sabbath cure, and therefore “work” (see Doering 2008, 233). In this case, it cannot be classified as providing anything that would impinge negatively on their interpretation of the Sabbath laws, given that it is a Sabbath meal that is being described. drink for them is spring water Spring water (ὕδωρ ναματιαῖον) as opposed to rain or well water, would have been from springs located near to the hill close to where the Therapeutae lived (see Taylor 2003, 83–89). Pure water, the natural drink, was also considered an ideal (Artemidorus, Onir. 1.66). In the pseudonymous Epistle of Diogenes 44, bread, spring water, a bed of straw and coarse cloak are to teach moderation

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and patience (Cynic Epistles ed. Malherbe, 1977, 156–157). While Chaeremon noted that among the Egyptian priests “some” drank no wine (Porphyry, Abst. 4.6.8), among the Therapeutae none do drink wine. with which they propitiate mistresses Hunger and Thirst, which Nature has set over the mortal creature Hunger and sickness are presented as powerful ladies that have to be propitiated with gifts, yet without flattery, and are thus capitalized for the sense. They are established by the most powerful lady of all, Nature, and are “gifted” with being sated, without anything overblown. This image of the powerful woman or queen (δέσποινα) who makes demands on people, or else the mistress of a slave hand-maiden, is found many times elsewhere in Philo’s works (Migr. 18; Her. 40–42; Somn. 1.27). In Spec. 4.82 “the unkind and unconsoling mistresses of the body, Thirst and Hunger” torment the body until they are assuaged with drink and food. offering up nothing for flattery, but only essentials, without which it is not possible to live; because of this they eat so as not to hunger and drink so as not to thirst To eat anything beyond the essentials is considered to be a kind of flattery to the mistresses. This ideal of moderation is found also as an ideal within Stoic philosophy. Seneca wrote that a person should eat and drink only as much as is needed to relieve hunger and thirst (Ep. 8.5). Winston (1981, 319) adds a reference to Seneca’s approving reference to the abstemiousness of Epicurus (Ep. 18.9). One of Socrates’s famous quotes was: “Bad men live that they may eat and drink, whereas good men eat and drink that they may live” (Diogenes Laertius, Lives 2.34; cf. Xenophon, Mem. 1.3.6 Plutarch, Tu. san. 124d–e; 513c–d; 521f). so eschewing excess as an enemy and adversary of soul and body They consider “excess,” “abundance,” or “indulgence,” (πλησμονή) absolutely dangerous and unendurable. The term has a basic meaning of “fullness,” πλησιάζω meaning “fill.” The writer of Colossians describes an ascetic-leaning false teaching which has an appearance of wisdom but actually does nothing to check the πλησμονή of the flesh, by which he apparently means “indulgence of the flesh.” Some passages in the LXX give the noun decidedly negative associations: Exod 16:3, 8; Ps 105:15; Hos 13:6; Isa 1:14; Ezek 16:49. In Exod 16:3, the Israelites murmur against Moses and Aaron (and God), declaring that they wish they had never left Egypt where they had an “abundance” of bread to eat. The Therapeutae maintain a minimalist diet to conquer such indulgence or unnecessary and debilitating abundance. Perhaps the Therapeutae’s dread

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of “abundance” was especially connected with Exod 16:3’s thought that material abundance and spiritual degradation and bondage went together. In similar language, Philo says that the Essenes are “lovers of frugality who shun expensive luxury as a disease of both body and soul” (Hypoth. 11.11). Food and the body are not as such evil, but over-indulgence would be spiritually dangerous. The Therapeutae walk a fine line between hatred for the body and sensualist values, but they keep their distance from both extremes. Their lifestyle shows regard for both soul and body (see § 90). In conclusion, in terms of the Two Ways in regard to the subject of food, the following opposing elements can be distinguished in §§ 34–37:

Truth

Falsehood

philosophy (= soul food) light body rested/cared for eat and drink necessary things

needs of the body § 34 darkness §34 ? [body abused] § 36 ? [excess] §37

Philo does not explore the opposite of what it means to eat only necessary things to sustain the body here, but he will go into this at great length in §§ 53– 56. These things are implied even though they are not explicitly indicated here.

E

Clothing §38

Having discussed housing and food, Philo now mentions the clothing of the group, again emphasizing how extremely simple it was. He makes no distinction between men’s and women’s clothing, though this may be because he mainly has men in mind. Detailed Comments (§38) Since indeed there are two forms of protection, clothing and housing, [their] housing has been spoken of earlier—that it is undecorated and rough, being made for utility itself alone Just as §37 offered some specifics about the diet of the Therapeutae and then offered explanatory generalizations about their abhorrence of superfluity, so

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§§38–39 offer a few details about the houses and clothes of the members plus a general explanation in terms of simplicity and the virtues supported. In describing what they ingest, Philo combined discussion of food and drink. In §38 he notes that there are two kinds of protection to be dealt with, housing and clothing. He has already dealt with housing both private and communal in §§24–33, but here he deals with the issue of the protection of the body. while [their] clothing likewise is very basic, [worn] for a defence against chill and heat Philo earlier (§§24–25) gives some specific details about the private huts of the Therapeutae, emphasizing that they are εὐτελεῖς, “basic,” and they are to provide “protection against the two most pressing things, against both the heat of the sun and the chill from the air.” In § 38 he says that their clothing is also very basic (εὐτελεστάτη) and designed to protect them from extremes of summer heat and winter cold. This kind of very austere attitude to clothing also connects the group with ἀνδρεία, “courage” or “manliness,” in which there is no interest in decoration, softness or beautiful clothing. In Philo’s treatise Virt. 18–20, he looks to Moses for legislation on the right kind of clothing to be worn, noting that a man should not put on a woman’s stolē (long chiton, tunic); this would have had strong resonances within Roman circles esteeming ἀνδρεία, or virtus, since for a man to wear soft and colourful clothing was considered womanish and weak (Virgil, Aen. 9.614–620; Seneca, Ep. 122.7; Artemidorus, Onir. 2.3, and for further see Wilson 2010, 113–115). The philosophical superiority of simplicity in dress is emphasized elsewhere in Philo’s works at Somn. 1.124; 2.224–225; Mos. 1.153; Spec. 2.10; Prob. 86 and Hypoth. 11.12. it is a thick chlaina cloak as good as a woolly skin in winter The technical names for the clothing are retained in the translation. A chlaina (χλαῖνα, from χλιαίνω, “to warm”) was in ancient Greece a short woollen mantle or blanket fastened at the shoulders with a brooch, worn in the Homeric period and also used as a bed covering (Homer, Il. 10,133; 22,441; Od. 14.488, 500, 504, 513, 529; 19.337; 20:4), and was usually considered male attire (Aristophanes, Thesm. 141–142). It was associated with shepherds and farmers and rather rough (see Cleland, Davies and Llewellyn-Jones 2007, 33–34; Lee 2015, 117–118 and for further on the clothing of the Therapeutae in detail see Taylor 2003, 287– 302). However, in the Hellenistic era chlaina could be synonymous with a himation, indicating a mantle or outer wrap, probably indicating something simply shorter rather than distinctively masculine (Evans 2012, 31).

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In Somn. 1.124, Philo writes of virtuous men who are “not ashamed of a basic chlaina,” spurning expensive mantles as wasteful: “these are not just called men but really are men.” Well-to-do persons who embark on more of a philosophical mode of life, spurn luxuries and wear “a girdle and a wrap (othonē) in summer and a sturdy, untearable chlaina in winter” (Spec. 2.20). The Essenes also are said to wear “sturdy cloaks” (στιφραὶ χλαῖναι) in winter (Hypoth. 11.12), but these are not said to be made of wool (and for further on Essene clothing see Taylor 2012, 84; Tigchelaar 2003, 301–321). For the translation of “as good as” see the textual note. While four Greek manuscripts of Philo here (BDEM) have ἀπὸ λασίου δορᾶς, indicating that the cloak was made “out of a shaggy skin”, and this is the preferred option in C-W (and see PLCL 9:134–135), a large number of manuscripts have ἀντὶ λασίου δορᾶς (ACGHIKOPQ Arm.), and this is followed by Graffigna (1992, 56). This might at first sight seem to translate as “instead of a woolly cloak.” Thus, Winston (1981, 319) also prefers the reading of ἀντὶ λασίου δορᾶς and suggests that the Therapeutae declined to wear fur or skin because they regarded them as unclean or inferior animal products (in line with Plutarch, Is. Os. 352d), but this seems to read too much into the text. Sheepskin was not intrinsically unclean: Elijah covers himself with a sheepskin when he hears the voice of God (3 Kingdoms 19:13 LXX = 1Kings 19:13), and this is what Elijah throws on Elisha to commission him (1Kings 19:19; 2Kings 2:8; 13:14). In the Letter to the Hebrews prophets of old are imagined as going about in sheep and goat skins (Heb. 11:37). In the C-W reading, a sheepskin chlaina indicates rustic attire, since it is associated with poor and hard work (see Cleland, Davies and Llewellyn-Jones 2007, 169; Taylor 2003, 289–291). This unsophisticated and tough image would also tie in with the model of people practising the virtue of andreia. However, the cloak of the person described in Spec. 2.20, is woven but “untearable,” ἀρραγῆ, and this would refer better to something very thickly woven as in Somn. 1.217. Another translation is presented here, because ἀντί can also hold a meaning of equivalence (LSJ 153 A.III.2), thus “as” or “as good as.” This thick chlaina would have been totally wrapped around the body, and worn alone, as we see in the depictions of philosophers who wear a peribolaion (very large, thick mantle; see Taylor 2003, 293–294). and an exomis tunic or linen wrap in summer An exomis (ἐξωμίς) was a common sleeveless short tunic, leaving one shoulder bare, used by men in physical work (Cleland, Davies and Llewellyn-Jones 2007, 63–64, 79), and is therefore gender specific. In Hypoth. 11.12, along with their “sturdy chlaina cloaks,” the Essenes also wear “basic exomis tunics” (ἐξωμίδες εὐτελεῖς, for further see Taylor 2003, 287–288).

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The linen wrap (ὀθόνη) is a large cloth or sheet (cf. Homer, Od. 7.107; Acts 10:11, cf. 11:5; Philo, Mos. 2.90). Conybeare suggests that ὀθόνη in the manuscripts is just wrong because it is not a “particular habilment,” but, as noted in Taylor (2003, 288), “that it was not a proper garment seems to have been exactly Philo’s point.” It can simply be translated as “linen material” (Spec. 1.84) or “wrap,” secured by a girdle, περίζωμα (Spec. 2.20). This wrap may be indicative of the Egyptian kalaseris, linen material which was worn by men and women and tied around the chest (for women) or waist (for men) by the girdle. This garment is shown in a fresco from Herculaneum of Isis priests and priestesses performing a water purification ritual.5 The reference to the othonē is then a traditional item of clothing that could have been worn by both men and women, while the exomis is a masculine work garment, often made of wool. Colson (PLCL 9:135, n. c) notes that Conybeare renders ἢ ὀθόνη as ἠ ὀθόνη, which might read “namely a linen garment,” and translates the whole phrase as “a smock without sleeves, the linen coat namely.” Colson finds some evidence that “perhaps” supports Conybeare’s interpretation in Spec. 2.20 and Hypoth. 11.12, though he himself translates the phrase “a vest or linen shirt.” However, as noted above, given that ὀθόνη refers to “linen material,” it would be better to see it as an alternative to the exomis in summer, and one that imagines the use of the wrap by women as well as men, rather than a qualification of the type of short sleeveless tunic only worn by men. See above, on § 32, on the apparent need for the Therapeutae to preserve women’s modesty in a Sabbath gathering given women wearing this attire.

F

Conclusion of Features: The Two Ways

With this section Philo wraps up his introduction to the examples he is going to use for his study on the contemplative life, returning to the concept that is essentially that of the Two Ways of truth and falsehood that underpins his presentation, since he contrasts the Therapeutae, representing all that is true and good, with examples of other philosophers, for which everything is false and bad.

5 See http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:R%C3%B6mischer_Gottesdienst_zur_Ehre_Is is.jpg.

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Detailed Comments (§39) Summing up, they practice unconceitedness, knowing conceit to be the origin of falsehood, and unconceitedness the origin of truth, each one having the quality of a spring, for from the spring of falsehood the many forms of evil are flowing, while the abundant forms of human and divine good flow from the spring of truth. See Textual Note. The Two Ways concept is made explicit here, while it was implicit when it first began in §2. The image of the fountains of truth and falsehood has a direct parallel in the Dead Sea Scrolls’ Community Rule (1QS: 3.17–19): “He has created humanity to govern the world, and has appointed for them two spirits in which to walk until the time of His visitation: the spirits of truth and falsehood. Those born of truth spring from a fountain of light, but those born of falsehood spring from a source of darkness.” The image here occurs in the presentation of the Two Ways (1QS 3:13–4:26), a tradition that is much discussed in scholarly literature (for which see Daniélou 1953; Licht 1965; Nickelsburg 1999; Tigchelaar, 2004; Hempel 2010), given its appearance not only here but in the Testament of Asher 1, the Epistle of Barnabas 18, the Didache 1, and Latin Doctrina Apostolorum 1. Philo’s use of the Two Ways concept has not been so much discussed, but see Philonenko (1986) and Leonhardt-Balzer (2009) on QE 1.23, and also Brock (1990, 150), who points out its origins in Deut 30, and its subsequent appearance implicitly in a range of Jewish literature, including the works of Philo. Note that in Plant. 37 Philo describes how each soul considers paths of good (leading to life) and evil (leading to death), and likewise two paths are mentioned in Mos. 2.138. In summary, Philo is using a template of a dichotomy between truth and falsehood, as indicated here, in various part of the first section of the treatise, in which he introduces the two examples of ministers to the divine, firstly those who may be presented from Graeco-Egyptian cults, and secondly the good example of the Jewish Therapeutae, with a little on another contrasting example of Athenagoras and Democritus included. The following elements in this division of attributes of each side have then been distinguished:

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Contempl.

Truth

Falsehood

§6 §7 §8 §§7–9 §9 §9 §9 § 10 § 10 §§12–13 § 14 § 16 § 16 § 17 § 17 § 17 § 18 §§19–20 § 21 § 21 §§22–23 § 24 §§25, 30 § 26 § 30 § 31 § 33 § 34 § 34 § 36 § 37 § 38

detached light good spiritual/in the soul rational beautiful/kinship with Divinity civilized soul-healing seeing seeing wealth judging soundly/sober magnanimity/generosity care about time righteousness/justice equality wealth of Nature not ensnared/free outside city [Jews] perfect good healthy and safe huts well spaced sacred room (single, communal) remembrance of God order and decency correct speaking/listening women’s modesty preserved philosophy (= soul food) light body rested/cared for eat/drink necessary things basic clothing

licentious dark [bad] physical/in the body irrational ugly wild, uncivilized, dangerous untreatable and infectious blindness blind wealth inconsiderate/mad carelessness squander time injustice inequality wealth in empty glories caught/trapped city Greek and Barbarian worlds [not perfect good] [unhealthy/unsafe] closely packed/too far apart [no sacred place?] [forgetfulness of God] [disorder, indecency] [bad speaking/listening] [women immodest] needs of the body darkness [body abused?] [excess] [fancy clothing]

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This shows that while the binary opposition is quite clear at the start, it turns into implied features that flow from the spring of falsehood in the later sections. Philo will now turn with full force to consider the “foil” or “contrast example,” of “falsehood” and make his subject that of festive meals, symposia, which will bring out some of the worst aspects of the way of falsehood and what it entails. This is essentially a depiction of life that lacks virtue, and most particularly the virtue of andreia. It is the absolute antithesis of the contemplative life.

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§§40–63 The Wrong Symposia Philo now turns to an elaboration on the topic of food, discussed in Chapter 2:D (§§34–37). The simple food of the Therapeutae was presented as an indication of their self-control and dedication to matters of the soul rather than the body. Since the treatise is essentially polemical, providing an example of Jewish excellence in contrast to an example presented by Philo’s Alexandrian opposition in Rome, Philo now turns to engage in direct attack. This is the third part of the treatise and it takes up a large part of it. Philo fully explores the contrasting example on the matter of food before turning to the Therapeutae again, repeating and emphasizing topics he has already introduced in Chapter 2, so that this section ultimately will loop back to where he left off in describing the Therapeutae. After introducing the two springs (Two Ways) of truth and falsehood in the conclusion of the previous section (§39), Philo now takes this as the start for what follows, beginning with falsehood. This will serve as a contrast that heightens awareness of the virtue of the Therapeutae. A reader with a primary interest in different features of Second Temple Judaism might find §§40–63 a tedious diversion or interruption of Philo’s account of the Therapeutae, but it is essential in terms of the structure of the Two Ways to present the “foils” or contrasting examples (see Hay 2003). In addition, it greatly helps avoid any assumption that we are dealing with fantasy: Philo is certainly not imagining there are bad meal practices in the Graeco-Roman world among some hypothetical groups. There really are bad practices and they are found among those he is arguing against. In providing actual examples of gross behaviour it underscores the excellence of the actual good behaviour. This section is also essential in understanding the treatise as a whole and its overall rhetorical strategy. Philo announces in §40 his desire to describe the gatherings and communal meals of the Therapeutae and will do so at length in §§ 64–89, turning back to topics he has already introduced. Their festive gatherings are the supreme expression of their lifestyle and religious philosophy. Those “banquets” are much more than the food consumed, though Philo will mention the austerity of their diet again. What will get particular attention, however, will be the orderliness and dignity of their gatherings, the chaste familial fellowship they maintain, their attentive listening to a lecture or sermon, and the group hymn-singing and dancing that manifest a “sober intoxication” lasting

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all night. Their times of fellowship show what it means to centre one’s life around love of God. In stark contrast, the examples of the dinner parties Philo will describe in §§40–63 exhibit disorder, monstrous cruelty and violence, drunkenness, ostentatious extravagance, gluttony, lust, frivolity and sexual immorality. The whole passage fits into the rhetorical mode of censure or accusation (cf. Bréhier 1907, 285). As part of this rhetoric, Philo makes bad practices even worse than they are. Just as he doubtless exaggerates the excellence of the Therapeutae, and avoids mentioning his own qualms about their behaviour, he maximizes the terrible behaviour of the bad diners so that they become grotesquely disgusting. Philo’s presentation of the “Wrong Way” in regard to symposia (festive meals) is clearly divided into three sections on the following topics: (i) intoxication, leading to violence and ruin (§§40–47), (ii) luxury, promoting gluttony and other vices (§§48–56), and (iii) poor models of philosophical dinner parties which encourage frivolity and pederasty (§§57–63). Each of the sections ends with a summation and moral maxims identifying the essential vices identified (§§47, 56, 63). The whole passage is full of lively details, most of them easy to visualize. and striking moralizing contrasts. We might say the sequence of topics is from the worst to the least bad, or from the obviously bad to the foundational but still blameworthy. Even the sophisticated philosophical presentation of Plato’s symposium can only be despised by true disciples of Moses (§ 63). Ancient readers of Plato and Xenophon in particular might, like Winston (1981, 320), have considered Philo’s dismissal of their Symposia as “grossly unfair.” Ancient readers might also have felt that Philo has chosen to describe extreme and rather atypical types of conduct. The question of audience arises here (see Introduction, pp. 5–19). Given the Roman environment, and the polemics between the two warring sides of the Alexandrian dispute, there is an appeal to consider the Therapeutae as more admirable exemplars for virtue than what may be used by the Alexandrian opposition in Rome. Just as the opposition wielded attacks on Jews, including attacks on Jewish meal practices, Philo here does likewise. He has already begun with attacks on their claims to religious excellence (§§3–10); now he attacks their festive meals. As explored in the Introduction (p. 20), the strong implication here is that the symposia under attack in this treatise are associated with the festive meals of the GraecoEgyptian cult, taking place in Serapis temples. For the inclusion of both Homer and Greek philosophers in such cults, see the Introduction (p. 18). The likelihood is that Philo’s opposition was using the great examples of philosophical symposia as a basis for their own presentation of a life of virtue (contemplative).

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Niehoff (2010b; 2018, 87–88) has explored how the subject of the symposia as presented in Contempl. has a particular relevance in terms of a Roman audience, which would relate well to a Roman context for the treatise (see also Taylor 2003, 21–53). She cites Seneca’s view that sympotic excesses were in Rome associated with Greek culture (Seneca, Ira 3.14–17; Ep. 83.9–10, 23–25; 108.15–16). Elements of a Roman orientation, according to Niehoff, include “the construction of the Greek Other, details of food and furniture, and the strictly controlled and private mode of the conversation” (Niehoff 2010b, 98; these will be discussed in the relevant sections below). This builds on Niehoff’s previous work of how Philo defines Jewish identify by defining the Other in terms of both Egyptians and Greeks; Contempl. can then be seen as part of Philo’s wider stratagems (see esp. Niehoff 2001, 138–139). Assuming that Philo’s purpose in writing Contempl. was to praise and explain a Jewish example of virtue, it makes sense that he would offer a long description of obnoxious banquets in contrast to their meetings: he aims in part to convince his readers that such meals as those he now describes display values and a lifestyle that are self-destructive and deserve the strongest possible censure. A final point may be noted at the outset: §§40–63 describe the dinner parties of people who are not constrained by financial limitations; the immoral banqueters, or at least their hosts, are wealthy. Even Socrates, a man famously indifferent to money, was a guest at the tables of the affluent in the accounts of Plato and Xenophon. In §46 Philo describes banqueters who take up collections from each other to pay for their next session and he speaks of persons ruining themselves, perhaps in part financially (note the phrase “unhomed and unhearthed” §47). So clearly they have money to play with. This is not the only time Philo critiques banquets, and he seems to have had experience of these himself to account for the many details and his own repulsion (Leg. 3.156; Cher. 92–95; Legat. 312; Spec. 1.192–193).

A

Intoxication (§40–47)

§§40–47 are centred in the general idea that certain banquets are marred by alcohol-induced violence or stupefaction. Those whom wine drives to violence behave as though they had drunk not wine but something stronger (§ 40). Those who sink into stupors act as though they had consumed mandragora (§45). For both groups, a dinner party which should encourage friendship and conviviality actually produces war-like enmity in varied forms (§§ 41–44, 47). Wine causes both groups to enter into a form of insanity (§ 40) or lose all but

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their sense of taste (§45). In contrast to the “sober intoxication” of the Therapeutae’s inspired state, we have here the awful “drunken intoxication” of people actually consuming wine, the liquor of Dionysus. Philo refers to himself twice in the passage, once in explaining his turn away from the Therapeutae (§40) and once in speaking of those who arrange future drinking bouts (§45). There are parallel passages in Plant. 160–165, in which current ways of drinking “after sacrificing” (cf. Athenaeus, Epit. 2.40c) are noted as not coherent with (better) ancient ones (Colson, PLCL 3:209), and Ebr. 214– 223, on extravagance, with wine leading to violence. These will be considered in the detailed discussion below. An interesting analogue to this long passage is in Paul’s Letter to the Galatians 5:19–22, contrasting “works of the flesh” and “fruit of the Spirit.” The former is a list of abusive behaviour, including violence, sexual licentiousness, drunkenness and carousing. The fruit of the Spirit includes goodness, kindness, love, self-control. The contrasts of immoral and moral provide extreme poles of behaviour, thereby encouraging readers to choose one or the other (and not try for something in-between). The misbehaviour detailed in §§ 40– 63 is generally extreme and obviously likely to raise the readers’ hackles: who would not take offence at such bad conduct? The rhetorical effect of this is then to make readers respect the lifestyle of the Therapeutae as sane and sober by comparison—even if not a lifestyle most ordinary readers would be tempted to adopt in all its details. While the dialogues of Xenophon and Plato refer to specific banquets of the past, the descriptions of §§40–56 deal with actual festive dinner parties of Philo’s day. The symposia of old were supposed to act as models, and thus the present dinners are not simply ordinary meals but designed to allow for philosophical discourse. Who are the participants at the banquets described in §§ 40–56? Philo implies that the audience knows that his opposition are “the others” (§ 40). They do not need to be specifically introduced as there is a context clear to the audience, in terms of both sides of the debate. As noted in the Introduction (p. 19) these would be active participants from the “Hellene” side of Alexandria, likely the banqueters in the cult of Serapis, who sponsor dinners in honour of the god. Just as Jews had been criticized in the Graeco-Roman world for the festive meal of Passover, Philo targets those who worship Serapis for their festive meals. Moreover, Philo’s descriptions seem to imply that he has in mind mainly the dinner parties of elite people who can indulge in every luxury (see especially §§48–56). These also have examples that influence their behaviour: he remarks that readers who compare the Symposium narratives of Xenophon and Plato with the dinner gatherings of the Therapeutae will find the former

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ones “ridiculous” (§58). Thus, Philo does not claim to be describing the usual dining experiences of ordinary people, but the debauched dining of the wealthy in a particular context. In the Graeco-Egyptian cultic meals held as part of the divine honours for Serapis, philosophical discussion and piety are undermined by behaviour. Detailed Comments (§40) I wish also to speak Philo places himself in the treatise here in using the first person singular along with the verb λέγω, “speak.” This creates a specific break in the treatise and recalls its beginning, where Philo indicates he will now speak of those who follow a contemplative life (§1). As noted above, this implies a spoken address to an actual audience. of their common meetings and in the very cheerful ways of behaving in symposia, as contrasted with the symposia of the others The term for “meeting” (σύνοδος), appears only here in Contempl., though Philo uses it 45 times elsewhere (e.g., Flacc. 136). Strabo, Geogr. 17.8, after mentioning the common repasts of the members of the Alexandrian museum club or thiasos, calls their association a σύνοδος, but this is not quite Philo’s usage. It seems more generally a wider category of meeting than a banquet. In fact, in the latter part of Contempl. the focus on the festive event of the all-night singing and dancing goes beyond the symposium (dinner) itself. The term symposium (συμπόσιον) indicates a particular kind of dinner party. Philo uses it 12 times in Contempl. and only 14 times in all of his other extant writings, which goes to show how much of a focus it has in the treatise. A symposium was largely a drinking party in the Greek tradition, referring to a social event after a dinner involving food and alcoholic drink (Dunbabin 2003, 19), though in Contempl. §48 the drinking component is, ironically, simply water (cf. §§64, 71, 73). As indicated in Plant. 160–165, it appears to have been customary for symposia to follow sacrificing, and as such these were considered festive occasions that were held in association with the sacred. As such the Graeco-Egyptian example in view can be connected with the errors of those already highlighted in §§3–10: thus “the others” refers to what the audience knows to be the opposition. In Decal. 96 Philo points out that Jews have a festive meal every seventh day, while some cities have theirs once a month (on the seventh day of the month), “reckoning it from the time of the new moon.” This refers to the practice of having a holy seventh day feast in honour of Apollo (Hesiod, Op. 770; Colson

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PLCL 7:611). It is possible then that the festive meals of “the others” are these monthly banquets in honour of Apollo, who is strongly associated with Serapis in the Graeco-Egyptian cult. In mentioning the “very cheerful ways of behaving” (ἱλαρωτέρας … διαωγὰς), this image is planted at the outset of a happy group. As a final note on the Therapeutae before we leave them to focus on the excesses of the contrasting examples, Philo notes that the Therapeutae’s gatherings and meals are marked by intense joy. It is significant that we hit this mention of joy midway through the treatise, since the stress on the contemplative life shown in the example of the Therapeutae as being one leading to happiness is signalled at the beginning and the end of the discussion. In §11, closing the introduction, it is said that their order leads to perfect happiness. Philo will eventually emphasize the solemn joy of their all-night festive event leading to the summit of human happiness, which they reach (§90). The other banquets he now will describe are, in contrast, marked by destructive self-indulgence, foolish pleasures, and ultimate misery. The others get drunk and then in their drunkenness attack fellow banqueters physically (§§40–43), while for some drunkenness does not prompt violent behaviour but only lassitude and self-ruin (§ 44–47). Other persons delight in ostentatious luxury at their meals (§§ 48–56) and there are faults also in the philosophers’ banquets described in §§ 57–63. One almost imagines Philo turning and gesturing towards “the others” at this point; they are the opposing group in the debate. The construction of the sentence that begins § 40 shows that Philo very carefully informs the reader that he is going to do two things. He will go on to describe the symposia of the Therapeutae (in §§ 64–89), but he intends to do so in part by showing how diametrically opposed are the symposia of “the others.” The term for setting up the contrast, ἀντιτάξας, might be rendered “after describing as a matter of contrast,” and that is precisely Philo’s sequence: first the bad dinner parties, then the excellent ones. He seems to be saying that the character and significance of the Therapeutae gatherings can only be properly appreciated when the negative foil has been fully set forth. In § 64, Philo uses the same verb (ἀντιτάσσω) when he resumes his account of the Therapeutae. This device of “foils” or contrasts is foundational in Contempl. (see Hay 2003, and also Introduction, pp. 39–41). The literary device of describing a contrast is one he employs in other treatises. For example, he begins his vitriolic account of Flaccus by describing how good a governor he was in his first years of ruling Alexandria (Flacc. 1–7), ending with an explicit explanation that by so doing he will expose Flaccus’s crimes more clearly as those of one who knew better

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(§§6–7; see van der Horst 2003, 89–98). In Legat. 8–13 we find a similar bright account of Caligula’s initial rule, which in the treatise as a whole functions to expose the gross evil of his subsequent actions. In Prob. 89–91 Philo concludes his account of the Essenes by a series of contrasts: (1) the philosophy of the Essenes is a matter of practice of virtue and freedom in contrast to “the pedantry of Greek wordiness;” (2) the rulers over the country (Palestine) where the Essenes reside have displayed injustice, savage cruelty, hypocrisy, and impiety, but have been unable even to accuse the Essenes and have rather praised them (see Taylor 2012, 36–39). For indeed when those others are filled up with undiluted liquor This begins the example of the antithesis, or contrasting example, at first sight using a μὲν … δέ construction, but the μέν is actually not followed by a δέ as a counterpoint, and is in fact used for emphasizing a statement of certainty, “indeed.” The “undiluted liquor” (ἄκρατον) is used for getting drunk, since normally wine would be diluted with water. as if they are not drinking wine but rather drinking some frenzy-inducing and maniacal thing, or some even more dangerous substance for the overturning of reason The rare word παρακινηματικός derives from the verb παρακινέω, “move aside, disturb, excite violently” (LSJ 1313), but LSJ illustrates the term only with this Philonic passage and translates it weakly as “exciting.” The implication is that the intoxication of “the others” changes their characters: they would not bite other peoples’ noses or ears unless they were “out of their senses.” Colson plausibly suggests the translation of “potion” from the word φυσικόν but he places this with παρακινηματικόν rather than χαλεπώτερον, arriving at “witch’s potion charged with frenzy” (Colson, PLCL 9:137). Yet here φυσικόν seems to need to be translated as a noun, as it is in LSJ 1964, II.2, 3. It should be noted that while the Greek manuscripts read φυσικόν, the ancient Armenian version suggests that the original text may have read “natural drug” (φυσικόν φάρμακον, see Conybeare 1894, 761) though perhaps the Armenian simply points to the correct understanding of the Greek word here. Philo seems to be thinking of numerous natural drugs that could be used to create not intoxication but madness and hallucination. Philo uses the word ἔκστασις, meaning “overturning,” here in the sense of the drunkards becoming detached from their right minds (reasoning power). Philo elsewhere (but not in Contempl.) applies the term to divine possession of a prophetic nature (Her. 249). See further Graffigna 1992, 132–133.

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they fight and rave in the manner of wild dogs and, rearing up, they bite each other and chop off noses, ears, fingers, various other parts of the body See Textual Note. In Plant. 160 Philo speaks of “the modern way of taking strong drink” as drinking “till body and soul are unstrung,” providing a “parody of the athletic games, namely a drinking contest. In this they practise on one another magnificent passes, gnawing off ears and noses and tops of fingers and any parts of the body that come handy” (Colson, PLCL 3:295, 297). One may also compare the metaphorical use of such language in Gal 5:15. On that Pauline text, H.D. Betz remarks: “Comparisons of bad conduct with the behaviour of wild animals were a commonplace in the diatribe literature,” citing Plutarch, Adv. Col. 1124e: “For if someone takes away the laws, but leaves us with the teachings of Parmenides, Socrates, Heraclitus, and Plato, we shall be far from devouring one another and living the life of wild beasts” (Betz 1979, 277, nn. 43, 48); however, in Contempl. 40 Philo appears to be speaking about literal (physical) assaults. They are presented as being so violent as to be cannibalistic, in biting each other (see §43), with their bodies “mutilated” (§ 44). This is one of the first of several very visual images we are given of the participants in the antithetical bad symposia. These persons are like (1) wild dogs, (2) Homer’s Cyclops, (3) deceitful warriors, (4) pseudo-athletes, and (5) counterfeiters. Wine—so much part of the Dionysiac meals—acts on some drunkards like a frenzy-inducing drug (§40), on others like a sleeping potion (§ 45). There seems no reason to propose that Philo is copying this critique from any previous Greek (now lost) material (so Wendland 1895). Rather, as Niehoff (2009, 101–103) has suggested, Philo is appealing to the kinds of Roman criticisms of the Greek Other in their symposiastic excesses, as evidenced by the writings of Seneca, especially Ep. 83. so as to demonstrate in these [actions] that there is a truth in the story of Cyclops and Odysseus’s companions, which, says the poet, is in eating human “morsels,” and they show a greater cruelty than that Cyclops. Philo uses an allegorical interpretation of Homer’s story of the Cyclops in the Odyssey 9, by stating that this shows a deeper truth connected with “eating people” and matters more cruel than anything the Cyclops did. The reference to the “morsels” (ψωμούς) comes from Od. 9.373. In Homer’s story Odysseus and his men come to a cave containing sheep, milk and cheese, where they meet Polyphemous, the son of Poseidon, the Cyclops, who initially shows some interest and hospitality, but then he devours two of Odysseus’s men for dinner. By stating that this is “to demonstrate … that there is a truth” Philo indicates the deeper truth in a story within Homeric literature, therefore endorsing the

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practice of the allegorical interpretation of Homer (see Commentary above, on §§28–29). He does not believe in the literal truth of Homer’s myths; in Prov. 66 Philo notes that the race of the Cyclopes (see Ovid, Metam. 14.174–967, cf. Plutarch, Cons. Apoll. 113b) is “stuff of story.” Yet the story here is used to plumb a truth. In §63 Philo will refer to another “story” (μῦθος) from non-Homeric literature and develop a contrast with truth or reality; but here there is truth in the poetry. The words “as the poet says” is clearly a reference to Homer, the definitive poet. This is the second time Philo quotes Homer in the treatise (see above, comments on §17). The Cyclops killed Odysseus’s companions because they had trespassed into his home (his cave), and in order to eat them, as he would devour a sheep. He says in §43 that these banqueters are “being murdered and killing at the same time,” not hurting each other to protect themselves from enemy encroachment or to eat but simply to do violence. (§41) For he assailed those he suspected to be enemies, while they assail acquaintances and friends, and sometimes even relatives. While Colson (PLCL 9:137) translates that the Cyclops “avenged himself,” a looser rendering of ἠμύνετο as “assail” allows for a wider application that continues through this sentence, and ties in better with Philo’s other usage (e.g., Legat. 100). The Cyclops is exonerated since he was really defending himself against enemies, while these fighting drunkards attack their own friends and acquaintances, therefore showing themselves to be worse than a monster. Over the salts and tables, they make warfare in cups of peace The salts and tables are not the reason for the fighting, but assailing takes place over them in terms of a place, in the dining room itself. The salts are a seasoning for the food. The “tables” indicate what is spread out on tables: the food itself. In the case of the Cyclops, he eats the companions of Odysseus as food (“morsels”) but here the fighting takes places over what is being consumed. The rhyming expression ἄσπονδα ἐν σπονδαῖς means literally “implacable things in peace-cups,” but this is an idiom and which cannot be translated. Philo uses many verbal plays, and seems to relish the sound of his words in this paragraph. One suspects that the “performing acts of war in peaceable settings” concept used in this rhyming stock phrase was one easily occurring to Philo as he writes on the topic of bad banquets (cf. Winston 1981, 319). Colson translates: “and as they pour out a libation of peace they commit deeds of war” (PLCL 9:139), while Conybeare (1894, 761) has a paraphrase: “whom in the midst

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of peace they treat implacably.” Colson notes (PLCL 9:139) that σπονδαί carries with it the sense of “libation” as well as “truce” and notes the similarity of Spec. 3:96 where Philo writes: “We have certainly heard of banquets where sudden destruction has fallen upon a great assemblage of guests drawn by comradeship to eat of the same salt and sit at the same board, to whom the cup of peace has brought the bitterness of war and festivity has been changed into death” (Colson, PLCL 7:537). There may well have been certain infamous incidents at real banquets referenced here. Lucian (Symp. 43–47) mentions fights at symposia. A drunken fight is found in Plutarch’s Alexander 9.4–11, between Attalus, Alexander and Philip, on the occasion of Philip’s marriage to Cleopatra (see Beneker 2009). like those in the gymnastic contests The reference might seem to be to cups of truce that are part of the gymnastic contests, but ὅμοια, “like” is accusative neuter plural and would refer back to “implacable things in cups of peace” (ἄσπονδα ἐν σπονδαῖς). The actions of fighting or wrestling would be appropriate to gymnastic contests. but they create as a counterfeit for genuine exercise the miserable actions of the anti-athletes—for this is the right name for them. The phrase καὶ παρακόπτοντες ὥσπερ νόμισμα δόκιμον ἄσκησιν is literally “and they counterfeit as coin for genuine exercise.” They are duping people with pretense. The “anti-athletes” are nothing like genuine athletes (for which see Kyle 2007). We have now moved away from the image of the Cyclops to consider the fighters as counterfeiters of genuine athletic prowess. The word ἄθλιοι is only found here in Contempl. but occurs elsewhere in Philo’s writings to mean “miserable,” or “wretched,” adjectivally (e.g., Flacc. 30; Legat. 31). Again Philo is clearly relishing the sounds of words. As for the high-assonance expression οἱ ἀντι ἀθλητῶν ἄθλιοι, it was a common pun in antiquity (cf. Galen, Protrep. 31), and this is used also in Plant. 39 and Somn. 2.24 (Pfitzner 1967, 39 n. 3). (§42) For such exercises that sober men do in stadiums for Pan-Hellenic audiences during the day for the sake of victory and Olympian crowns, and perform with skill, The term “Olympian” seems to have been present for the Armenian translator and is preferred here with the accompanying καί (see Textual Notes). Now Philo compares the drunkards unfavourably to the true competitors in an athletic arena. Like athletes, perhaps fighting in the contests of classic Greek wrestling called pankratia (in which all types of holds and blows were permitted), they have fighting matches with their fellow guests (see Poliakoff 1987, 54–63). The

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reference to Olympic contests is also found in Agr. 119 and Virt. 193 and in Deus 147 there is a reference to winning an “Olympian crown,” an Ὀλυμπιακός. Philo indicates a positive attitude to athletic contests here: he is impressed by the skills of athletes. are debased during symposia at night, in darkness. Philo uses the Two Ways contrast between light and darkness that he has already employed to indicate that daylight is appropriate for matters of the soul/mind while darkness is appropriate for matters of the body (§ 34). Sobriety goes with daylight, and also good athletic activity in which exercises are appropriately employed. The bad banquet itself is imagined as taking place in the evening. Drunk, intoxicated, ignorantly and clumsily they work to the dishonour and insult and deadly injury of those who endure. The drunkards put to work the exercises of athletes towards those among them who last out through the hours of the drinking of the symposia and manage to survive the attacks. We are to imagine a type of wrestling match. (§43) If there is no one who would intervene, coming out as referee in the midst as someone with more authority See Textual Note. Philo picks up on the term “umpire,” or “referee” (βραβευτής), a person who in pankratia sometimes came between the opponents to stop a fight from going too far. This referee is depicted in Greek vase paintings (see Poliakoff 1987, see Figs. 6, 12, 37, 53, 54, 81) and was clearly essential. Winston cites Harris to state that this “is the only piece of evidence we have to show that a Greek umpire, like a modern boxing referee, sometimes separated contestants by stepping between them” (Harris 1976, 90; Winston 1981, 319), but this is not borne out by Poliakoff’s study, which shows other evidence that referees did intervene: a vase painting shows a referee flogging pankratists with a stick for the foul of eye gouging (Fig. 53). This “referee” would also hand out the rewards at the end of the game: Philo uses the word metaphorically of God who awards prizes or crowns (Somn. 1.153; Leg. 1.80). As noted above, Philo is positive about athletes. Philo frequently refers to athletic competitions, using a wide and often technical vocabulary (Pfitzner 1967, 38–48). He writes as one very familiar with Olympic-like contests, and he assumes his readers will readily understand and approve of his use of such topics and language (cf. Prob. 26). Clearly, he sees no conflict between his Jewish identity and positive appreciation of such competitions, and he assumes that attending such events is innocuous. There is no reason to think

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Philo did not approve of such contests. This was probably a common attitude among elite Jews like Philo. Herod the Great contributed heavily to the support of the games, without assuming Jewish disapproval (A.J. 16.148, see Daumas and Miquel 1963, 110–111). However, since the letter of Claudius of 10 November, 41 CE, warns Jews not to disrupt athletic contests (P. London 1912 = CPJ 2:153), some Jews at least must have had a more negative attitude to these and actively caused troubles. Philo must have known this, and therefore a positive presentation and endorsement of athletic contests here would have reassured his audience that he at least was perfectly content about the games. Elsewhere, Philo applies positive athletic imagery to spiritual conflicts against the passions and vices (e.g., see Agr. 113, 119; Migr. 200; Her. 271; Somn 2.145; Spec. 2.91; Leg. 3:72), like also Paul (see Pfitzner 1967, 38–48; Brändl 2006). they carry on, being murdered and killing at the same time; for they suffer no less than what they deliver, though they do not know it. They kill and are killed in this drunken fight, as much victims and victors, and are ignorant of their losses due to their inebriated state. The irony here seems to be that they think they are winning. See Textual Note. Those who do not set aside the wine, as the comic poet says, remain drinking not only for the evil of their neighbour, but also for their own self. The idiom of “not striking beside the wine,” παραποαίοντες τὸν οἶνον οὐκ is unpacked here in the translation. At the end of § 43 Philo refers to an unidentified comic poet who speaks of persons who remain drinking, to the evil of their neighbour and themselves. In Her. 5 Philo makes a similar reference to a comic poet he leaves unnamed, though Colson (PLCL 4:287) identifies the poet as Menander. Mention of comedy may indicate we are supposed to view Philo’s own presentation as comedic. We are supposed to laugh at the absurdity of the scene Philo describes. As Standhartinger (2017, 69) says, “The reflection of Stoic moral discourse, and moreover, comedy and Menippian satire, is unmistakeable.” (§44) And so they who a little earlier came into the symposia safe and friends Here the word symposia is found in the plural, indicating the dining rooms themselves as multiple physical spaces; not just one but several together. This is also an indication of the ambiguity of the word, because symposia can refer to both the dinner parties or banquets and the physical spaces where the banquet takes place, the dining rooms in which these occur. Throughout the

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treatise where the word συμπόσιον is found (at §§ 40 (×2), 42, 44, 48, 57 (×2), 64, 71, 73, 83, 89) it is important then to distinguish whether it is a reference to the dining room or the dining event. As discussed in detail by Edward Adams (2013, 166–170) dining rooms were found in both secular and cultic contexts; Oxyrhynchus texts (P.Oxy. 8.1129; 44.3203; 50.3600; 71.4832) testify to the renting out of συμπόσια (see Alston 1997a, 36). See the Introduction (pp. 20–21) for the likely context of these dining rooms in the cultic complexes of Serapis temples. a little later exit as enemies and, as they have mutilated their bodies, they are also in need of advocates and judges, on the one hand, and of poulticemakers and doctors, on the other, and the help offered by these. The word ἠκρωτηριασμένοι literally means “they have cut off the extremities” of the bodies, and returns then to what has been said in § 40 about injuries. Here Philo concludes his account of the drunkards who become violent by emphasizing the turnaround from when they come to the banquets with cheerfulness and friendly feelings. They soon depart as enemies of those who attacked them. They deal with their physical injuries by seeking the help of “poultice-makers” and physicians. Their injuries are that serious. (§45) Others among the fellow-drinkers, who seem to be more moderate, are half-asleep, drinking undiluted wine [which acts] like mandragora See Textual Note. The manuscripts have the word ὑποβεβλύκασι, literally “have looked under [eyelids]”, which is found elsewhere in Philo’s work as indicating drunkenness (e.g., Somn. 2.168). However, there is a C-W emendation of ὑπερβεβλύκασι (a word found for drunkenness in Ebr. 221 and used of overflowing rivers in Aet. 147). However, ὑποβεβλύκασι connects better with the “half-asleep” result of drug-taking. Philo says further that their drinks are for them like “mandragora.” Mandragora, or mandrake, was a well-known narcotic in the ancient world (see Taylor 2012, 317–318; Pliny, Nat. 25.94; Xenophon, Symp. 2.24; Plato, Resp. 448e). Daumas and Miquel (1963, 112) note that the allusion to the soporific power of mandragora was current in antiquity. Lucian has the famous misanthrope Timon accuse Zeus of being made drowsy by mandragora (Lucian, Tim. 2). and they stick out their left elbows and, after turning their neck at an angle, vomit into the cups. Daumas and Miquel (1963, 112–113) mention an ancient vase painting of a young man vomiting in this position (found in Pfuhl 1924, Pl. LIV). The position is one in which someone is lying on a couch, propped up, and they

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are turning to vomit into cups, presumably held by slaves. They seem to turn away to the back, twisting their necks from the tables and their companions. Then they sink into a deep sleep, neither seeing anything nor hearing anything They are oblivious to the violence all around them, as just described, in a state of absolute ignorance and lack of awareness. Their sleep follows on. Being full to the brim they need only to vomit to sink into a slumber. as if having just one sense, and the most slavish: taste. While the Therapeutae are all “men,” ἀνδροι, these drunkards manifest a sense, that of taste, that is ἀνδράποδώδης, “men-serving” or “slavish,” indeed it is ἀνδραποδωδεστάτην, “most slavish”. As noted regarding § 10, Philo held to the idea that there was a hierarchy of senses, with sight the most important and taste the least important. In Spec. 1.174, taste it is the basest of all senses. I know some who One striking feature of this passage is Philo’s “I know some” (§ 46), which suggests that he is writing from personal observation. Perhaps his meaning is that he knows personally some who get drunk in the way he describes, without him having personally observed their alcohol-laced stupors, but it seems more natural to suppose he is describing misconduct he has actually witnessed. As noted by Niehoff (2009, 105) Philo does indicate he himself has attended symposia (Leg. 3.156) and therefore he can describe what he witnesses (Ebr. 91; Somn. 2.167–168). when they have become tipsy yet before they are completely sunk Both ἀκροθώρακες and βαπτισθῆναι are expressions of inebriation. Of the latter word, one may note that Josephus uses βαπτίζω for “immerse” or “sink underwater” actually (B.J. 1.437; 2.556; 3.368, 423, 525, 527; A.J. 9.212; 15.55; Vita 15) and figuratively (B.J. 2.476; 4.137; A.J. 10.169). Philo’s use of an Aorist passive infinitive form of βαπτίζω to mean “get thoroughly drunk with wine” is unusual for him, since of Philo’s five other uses of the verb, only one (Prov. 2.67) comes close to the meaning in Contempl. 46. A similar use is found in Plutarch, Symp. 3.656d, but a very close parallel is found in Plato, Symp. 176b (which may suggest he is alluding to that work). The former word ἀκροθώρακες indicates a mellower stage of intoxication, see Ebr. 221 and Ps.-Aristotle, Probl. 871a8–9; Plutarch, Symp. 3, 656c (Winston 1981, 319).

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collect from a donation and tokens for the next drinking session, considering a part of the exhilaration in the moment to be the hope about the intoxication in the future. While the tokens (συμβολῶν) may be actual money, they may be in the form of IOU’s for a future drinking bout. The word was used of seal impressions on wax, the kind that would be stamped by a seal ring, giving proof of identity (see LSJ 1676). This indicates people affluent enough to have seal rings. Similarly, in Ebr. 22 there is mention of ruin brought on by such subscriptions. The drunkards arrange to get money to cover their party expenses by means of donations and subscriptions sealed with these tokens. That is, they seek company in their drinking and they seek funding from all their companions. They are not rich enough—or generous enough—to purchase all the alcohol they and their friends consume. These are not so much hosted events as they are “private parties,” events in which each member shares in the costs and makes contributions, and they are expected to be regular and ongoing. The contributions are evidently voluntary, and the diners are perhaps all social equals. Though Philo doesn’t use the term “Bacchic” in reference to the banquets, he clearly implies that all the drunkards he describes now look forward to getting drunk again. (§47) This is the way they are behaving, spending their time unhomed and unhearthed, enemies of parents and wives and children In §47 Philo comes to the end of his diatribe against intoxication, contrasting these men further with hints to what he has stated of the Therapeutae in §§ 12– 19: while the Therapeutae have left their homes and families to go as to live in community, for the sake of their longing for a life of philosophy, these drunkards simply abandon their homes and families. They abandon “parents” who may have been dependent on their care. They abandon their “wives,” meaning that the revellers are depicted as male. The hearer/reader who recalls §§ 12–19 may wonder for a moment if the Therapeutae, for all their sobriety, have not likely acted like enemies toward the families they have abandoned, including spouses and families and friends. But Philo has already provided an answer: the Therapeutae, far from ignoring families and friends, have richly provided for them by turning over their possessions to them. In contrast, the drunkards in §§45–47 injure their families largely by squandering financial assets on wine and feasting. The translation for ἄοικοι καὶ ἀνέστοι as “unhomed and unhearthed” seeks to retain the assonance without using the expression “homeless and hearthless,” since these have chosen not to be in their homes: they are not without them. These are not homeless beggars living on the streets (as yet)—but their

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attachment to drunkenness has detached them from their homes symbolically as effectively as if they were homeless. enemies also of the homeland: warmongers, indeed, against themselves. These revellers are a threat to themselves and the rest of society. Philo does not imply that the drunkards subjectively intend to injure their “nearest and dearest,” only that objectively that is the result of their pursuit of oblivion. He has already compared people who turn violent after becoming drunk to warlike enemies (§§41–43). For a limp and profligate life is a menace to all. The word ὑγρός is defined in LSJ (1543) as “languid,” “feeble,” thus “limp,” while ἄσωτος is “profligate” (LSJ 267). Plutarch (Quaest. Conv. 713a) uses the word ὑγρός in much the same way that Philo does, while Plato uses the term ἄσωτος, “profligate,” with a sense of “libertine” (Leg. 5, 743b, see Daumas and Miquel 1963, 113). Such adjectives illustrate a lack of self-control, toughness and resilience, the very opposite of the manly virtue under consideration here. In Stoic terms, being hard is part of virtus/andreia (see above, p. xx). To be soft is to be morally weak and flabby. Seneca identifies luxury as softening and weakening the soul (Ep. 7.7; 71.23; 84.11; 92.10), making it “womanish” (82.2). This gnomic conclusion is stated as an incontestable fact. Such soft men are not tough defenders of home and family but enemies. The conclusion in § 47 is meant to summarize not only §§45–47 but also the whole of §§ 40–46 on intoxication (see Structure, p. 40), and reads as a maxim: violent or not, the banquets of these “others” are saturated with alcohol and destruction. The festive meals of anyone who celebrates the god of wine are indicated as violent and anti-social.

B

Luxury §§48–56

Philo now turns to the luxury of the “wrong” symposia, finding in this the root of moral depravity. There is huge ostentatious in the luxurious furnishings both in terms of the inanimate objects and the “furnishing” of beautiful slave boys. These boys in particular are described in great detail, to emphasize how much they are made to look pretty for the pederastic pleasure of the male diners. The dinner guests gorge themselves on colour, on beauty and on food, which is also designed to please the eye more than anything, overwhelming the diners with its enormous variety. Philo conjures up an image of utter debauchery and

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excess, disgusting the audience with his presentations of the way there is no restraint in anything that the diners desire. Detailed Comments (§48) Perhaps someone might approve This is a sly dig at those who do approve, allowing Philo to describe at length modes of dining which he really wants all his readers to recognize as bad. the style of the symposia now emerging everywhere, according to a passion for Italic expensiveness and luxury The style of the symposia is concerned with the objects. He introduces the “Italic style” banquets by saying that these are “now” emerging everywhere. The general suggestion, then, is that §§40–56 describe typical or customary behaviour at dinner parties experienced by Philo and his contemporaries (cf. Daumas and Miquel 1963, 109, citing Leg. 3.156 and Flacc. 136). Philo refrains from saying that he is reporting his own observations, but the lively details he provides suggest that he writes from first-hand experience. It seems likely that he expects his readers to be familiar with such meals, and this probably justifies the inference that in the first instance he is describing meals he knows to take place in Alexandria (cf. Flacc. 136; cf. Borgen 1997, 166–171). Yet if he is speaking here to a Roman audience, he is appealing to their knowledge also of an increasing fashion for luxury in dinner parties. The source of the concept of this Italic style of banqueting seems to come from Plato. In the so-called Seventh Letter of Plato (Ep. 7, 326b); the philosopher describes his first trip to Italy and Sicily: When I arrived and saw what they call there the “happy life”—a life filled with Italian Syracusan banquets, with men gorging themselves twice a day and never sleeping alone at night, and following all the other customs that go with this way of living—I was profoundly displeased. For no man under heaven who has cultivated such practices from his youth could possibly grow up to be wise—so miraculous a temper is against nature—or become temperate, or indeed acquire any other part of virtue. Nor could any city enjoy tranquillity, no matter how good its laws, when its men think they must spend their all on excesses, and be easygoing about everything except the feasts and the drinking bouts and the pleasures of love that they pursue with professional zeal … translation Glen R. Morrow, in Cooper 1997, 1648

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Plato states that people who dine like this are incapable of philosophy, and Philo appears to be drawing out the implications of this in his own way. This trope of Italic luxury therefore is not so much a contemporary cultural phenomenon, but a motif drawn from Plato’s observations. Nevertheless, in the treatise it is a case of the world being corrupted “now” by a new fashion for luxury (as Plato defined it, as “Italic”). Overall in the treatise the focus is on what Greeks/Hellenes do, or have done: true athletes have “Pan-Hellenic audiences” (§42); “Hellenes sing praises of Anaxagoras and Democritus” (§14) and “among the symposia of Greece, two of these are widely known and notable” (§57). “Hellene and Barbarian” partake of perfect good (§21); the women Therapeutae do not behave “as some of the priestesses among the Hellenes do” (§68). The Hellenes are then those that need to be argued against, as the “Greek Other” (Niehoff 2010a), and their examples should be thoroughly denounced. Therefore, the symposia they appear to have described as vehicles for piety and philosophy are demeaned by Philo by describing the trappings of these, in which every kind of ostentation is now in fashion. “Italic” is not Greek, nor is it strictly Roman. Like Philo, Chaeremon described Egyptian priests who were “wary of foreign luxury and customs” (Porphyry, Abst. 4.8), but Romans could self-reflect and find the style of their own banquets reprehensible: Seneca wrote similarly against wealth and luxury (Ep. 17.3; 20; 2; 108.9–12; Vit. beat. 11.4, see Niehoff 2009, 111–112), and Tacitus identified the banquet as a means by which the Romans corrupted and rendered servile the British (Agr. 21). Musonius Rufus also indicated distaste at luxurious banquets (Or. 18a–b, 19a–b). The banquet as a vehicle for corruption was a commonly used trope in the writing of antiquity to point to someone’s moral weakness (see Taylor 2003, 46; Slater 1991, 157– 169). The wealth of material that has come to light in Pompeii and Herculaneum certainly does seem to illustrate a lavish world in first-century Italy, in which foreign goods and expensive materials were much used. which both Hellenes and Barbarians have sought after, making their arrangements for show rather than for a festal occasion While in §21 “Hellene and Barbarian” partake of perfect good by means of the example of virtue, here they are corrupted by seeking after Italic luxury, and they make everything they do about show and appearance, “rather than” (μᾶλλον ἢ) making preparations for the proper kind of meal for a “festal occasion” (εὐωχία).

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(§49) triple-couches and multi-couches made out of tortoise shell or ivory and of the most valuable wood, most of which are inlaid with stones The plural forms of τρίκλινα and πολύκλινα are neuter plural and refer to freestanding items of furniture that are made out of very costly materials, thus “couches for three or more persons” (so Colson, PLCL 9:141, 521). See Textual Note. Most Greek manuscripts read περίκλινα, meaning “couches around the table” (LSJ 1377); the Armenian, however, indicates πολύκλινα, meaning “couches to seat several,” and this makes sense, so that Philo would be speaking of “couches on which three or more can recline.” Philo’s general meaning is clear: the expensive decoration of such large items of furniture reflects resolute extravagance. The arrangement of the triclinium (the room containing a set of three in-built or free-standing couches) was standard in the Roman world, but in due course the stibadium, accommodating more people, replaced the couches for three persons. Philo indicates that the couches themselves are constructed out of precious materials with tortoise shell, ivory, or inlaid stones. These kinds of items have been found in Pompeii and Herculaneum. The Naples Museum (inv. 70995) has two decorative strips from a banqueting couch of bronze with inlaid silverwork. Likewise, in Somn. 2.56 Philo is appalled at the ostentatious luxury of the beds of wealthy Alexandrians: “the frames are ivory-footed and couches are inlaid with costly mother-of-pearl and polychrome tortoiseshell, done with much work and expenditure, covered all over in silver, gold, mosaic on a ground of gold tissue.” coverlets that are purples with interwoven gold, and others that are bright hues of all kinds of colours for luring the eye. In antiquity colour was highly esteemed, and dyes of all kinds were highly valued. Gold thread and purple hues were particularly treasured and enormously expensive. Here Philo uses the term ἁλουργεῖς, indicating genuine sea-purples, which were the most valued. There was a strong association between colourful clothing and the lures of the passions; women were thought to be susceptible to relishing colour, and thus highly dyed clothing was more commonly associated with women. Josephus defines highly coloured attire as being women’s wear (B.J. 4.561–563). The white clothing of the Essenes (see Josephus, B.J. 2.123, 137) and Pythagoreans seem to have been associated with their resistance to the passions and self-control (Taylor 2012, 84–85; Tigchelaar 2003).

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A mass of drinking vessels are set out according to type, for there are drinking horns and bowls and chalices and other kinds of Thericlean ware highly crafted and detailed with carvings by skilled men. The word τορεία is found only here in Philo’s works, and, according to LSJ 1806, it refers to a carving in relief, but it is suggested that it means repousée or chasing here, thus Colson (PLCL 9:141) has: “elaborately chased by scientific craftsmen,” while Conybeare (1894, 762) translates: “daintily chased and embossed with reliefs by clever workmen.” The term translated as “Thericlean ware” (θηρίκλεια), which Philo uses only this once, refers to vases in the manner of the Corinthian artist Thericles, which were particularly famous and valued (cf. Josephus, A.J. 11.15). Daumas and Miquel (1963, 114) cite Cicero (Verr. 38). Collections of Roman silverware from the first centuries BCE and CE (e.g., in the House of Menander at Pompeii), contain a high proportion of drinking cups, often richly and elaborately decorated (Dunbabin 2003, 161–162). See for example the two-handled silver drinking cup in the Naples Museum (inv. 25294). Bronze two-handled bowls were also used (Naples Museum, inv. 73599). The kind of banquet described here is illustrated by three wall paintings of House V, 2, 4 in Pompeii, where there are frescoes on the walls of the triclinium in the northwest part of the peristyle (Naples Museum Inv. 120029, 120031, 120032). In one of these there is a slave bringing in wine in two askoi. On one of the couches a partly naked woman drinks from a horn (rhyton), and on another a man holds a drinking cup or chalice (cantharus). The reference to detailed with carvings by skilled men is partly ironic, since the amount of skill required to make the drinking vessels is not valued by the banqueters, who are only interested in getting drunk. Mention of “men” (ἀνδρῶν) may well be a nudge towards the lack of manliness (andreia) exhibited by the drinkers. (§50) There are well-formed and extremely beautiful serving slaves, as though they have arrived not to delight by service but rather, by their appearing in such a way, to delight the eye of the beholders. This section begins with the same accusatives as § 49, following the accusative of παρασκευάς, “arrangements.” The words “there are” are added for sense. The “arrangements” are entirely for show, and thus the servants also—like the ornate furniture—are all about appearance as luxury “objects” (see Seneca, Ep. 95.24). Large numbers of slaves typically worked at the dinners of wealthy Romans, and young male slaves might be meant to provide sexual as well as other services (Dunbabin 2003, 150–155, cf. Juvenal, Sat. 5.56–62; Seneca, Ep. 47.7). In the paragraphs immediately following (§§ 53–59), Philo will write about other things—the profusion of rich foods, encouraging gluttony, other

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features of the symposia described by Xenophon and Plato—but then he will return to discuss pederasty (§§60–62). Philo sees in it a telling expression of what is wrong with the banquets and banqueters he is describing, and the enticing beauty of the boy slaves here hints at what he will condemn (see Szesnat 1998b). Of these, some who are still children pour the wine, while the adolescents bear water There are no adult slaves, they are all young, as in the frescoes mentioned above from Pompeii. The boys carry in smaller vessels with the wine, while the older boys carry larger vessels with the water. This wine and water should be mixed together for drinking, but we have already seen that the wine is sometimes undiluted. The words indicate only male servants: the word for “adolescents” (βούπαιδες), has comic associations in Aristophanes, Wasps 1206, but here is simply a way of describing a certain age group of male youths. bathed and buffed The translation aims to retain something of the rhyming alliteration of the Greek (λελουμένοι καὶ λελειαμένοι). their faces are rubbed with cosmetics, [their eyes] underlined with kohl and the hair of their heads tightly braided, Their faces are painted with cosmetics as women, and their hair is dressed in line with the fashion of women, in some kinds of plaited bun hairstyles. These types of hairdressing and method of styling during the Roman period have been well explored in the work of Janet Stephen (2008). Braiding and tying the hair into buns, sewn by means of hair needles, was common at this time for women. The slaves are dressed up to counterfeit women in the same way that the banqueters have counterfeited athletes (see §41). (§51) for their hair is long, either not being cut at all or only the hair of the forehead at the ends, for evenness and an exact shape of a circular line. § 51 continues the description of the boys’ hairstyles, indicating that their hair (plural in Greek) is left uncut, or else shaped with a fringe and a circular cut. Philo repeats the verb ἀκριβόω used in §49, where it applies to how the drinking vessels are “detailed” with carvings of skilled men; here the hair is cut as an “exact shape” (ἠκριβωμένον σχῆμα), implying the same attention to detail as we find on the drinking vessels, but here it is to make the hair of the slaves extremely even and neat. Seneca also notes young men displaying elaborate elegance, with dyed or specially trimmed hair (Ep. 115.2). Suetonius described

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Nero’s louche behaviour on his Greek trip as including a practice of allowing his hair to grow long: “he always had his hair formed in grades of curls, and during the journey around Greece he also let it grow long and hang down at the back” (Nero 51). Portrait busts of Nero show him with this hair curling down his neck (see Taylor 2018, 126). They are clad in tunics both finely-spun and whitish, the fronts of them below knee length, the backs just below the knees See Textual Note. Colson (PLCL 9:142) rightly suspected a misprint in C-W in its rendering of γόνου, which can mean “genitals,” rather than γόνυ, “knee,” since both Conybeare and Mangey have the latter, without comment, and see also Graffigna (1992, 64), though Winston, (1981, 319), following Bormann, retains it, translating “below the genitals.” Consultation with manuscript L in the Wren Library, Trinity College Cambridge (B. 9. 6), confirms that it reads ὑπὸ γόνυ and thus there is no reason to think of the slave boys having a very skimpy hoisted-up tunic reaching just below the genitals at the front. This is a misprint in C-W. In the case of ὑπὸ γόνυ and ὑπὸτοῖς γονατίοις the subtleties of Greek prepositions make the actual length of the tunics hard to define. It seems that the fronts are longer than the backs since the term μικρόν qualifies the back parts. The tunics (chitons) are very finely spun, or rather “spider spun” (ἀραχνουφεῖς) and “whitish” (ἐκλεύκους) also like the web of a spider, so that they are designed to catch the eye. and they draw together each part with fancy ribbons, placing along the join of the tunics on each side folds they let down, widening the hollow parts of the sides. The main point in this is that the slaves puff up the sides of the tunics, along the side joins, to create a more feminine shape. Colson (PLCL 9:143) follows Conybeare’s suggestion for a translation here, thus: “and they draw together each part with curly bows of ribbon along the line of the join of the tunics and then let the folds dangle down obliquely, broadening out the hollows along the sides,” but then comments: “This sentence has been transcribed bodily from Conybeare’s ‘provisional rendering’ in his commentary. I do not profess to understand clearly the Greek or the English.” The garments of the slaves were obviously designed to increase an illusion of feminine shapeliness, presumably to please the eyes of the guests. The design indicates not that the guests clamour for same-sex erotic stimulation but rather that they want feminine erotic stimulus. Everything is about illusion. This strongly correlates with that is written by Seneca (Ep. 12): “I see

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how anxiously they set out their silver plate, how diligently they tie up the tunics of their pretty slave-boys, how breathlessly they watch to see in what style the wild boar issues from the hands of the cook, with what speed at a given signal smooth-faced boys hurry to perform their duties, with what skill the birds are carved into portions all according to rule, how carefully unhappy little lads wipe up the spittle of drunkards” (see Daumas and Miquel 1963, 116). Conybeare (1895, 230) thinks that the slave boys’ costumes are girt up very high “to give them facility in moving about with the dishes,” but in fact the tunics of these boys are all about appearing feminine. (§52) Others wait behind, pubescent or first-bearded lads, downy cheeks just blooming, a short while earlier being toys of the pederasts, dressing up very elaborately, there for the heavier dinner duties See Textual Note. The boys just described dressed like girls are clearly the sexual toys of the men who are dining; the fact that some have moved beyond boyhood means they are no longer of interest. This again indicates that the sexual practices here are to do with pederasty, in which young boys are dressed up as girls, and not with same-sex desire as such. The older boys are left alone. For a Roman condemnation of pederasty, see Musonius Rufus, Or. 12. proof of the hosts’ opulence, as their employers think; but, as the truth has it, bad taste. Here the hosts and employers are given as plural, which relates back to the fact that the revellers are themselves putting in tokens for payment of the next banquet, so there is something collective in what is being described. The hosts have brought their own slaves to serve, and dressed them up thinking they are boasting of their opulence, when in fact they are showing off their lack of taste. Elsewhere Philo speaks of Joseph as providing a feast for his brothers that avoided luxury and “bad taste” (Ios. 204–205). Philo uses the word ἀπειροκαλία, “bad taste,” only in Ios. 205 and in Contempl. 52. In contrast, Somn. 2.42–66 presents Joseph as a man of vanity addicted to concern for the body and needless luxuries, particularly ones connected with dining. (§53) Further to these things, there are the varieties of cakes and dishes and seasonings, concerning which cooks and chefs labour, taking care not only to please taste, as is necessary, but also sight, by the very pure [artistry] … See Textual Note. The interest here now passes to the appearance of the dishes themselves, having considered the furniture and the attendant slaves. As with the work of artists responsible for the drinking vessels, and the hairdressers

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who have created a detailed cut of the boys’ hair and braided it, now here the cooks and chefs have laboured over creating extraordinary delicacies to please both the senses of taste and sight. This section of the treatise is problematic textually in that there is lacuna following the adjective καθαριότητι, “very pure.” C-W take the opportunity then to transpose some text at this point. While this commentary series follows the C-W text, it is not possible to do this here. Rather than reflecting what the manuscripts actually have, as presented in Mangey, the C-W text (6.60) offers a speculative transposition of a passage from §55 to § 53. Colson (PLCL 9:144– 146, note 1) follows C-W, but with serious hesitation. He writes: I have printed §§53–55 according to Cohn’s text, though I do not feel certain that the transposition which he makes is correct. His theory is that originally after καθαριότητι in §53 stood something like οἱ γοῦν παρελθόντες ἑς τὰ συμπόσια [“when then they came into the symposia”] and that §55 ended with something like πρὸς τὸν πότον τρέπονται [“they turn to the drink”]. Somehow in the MSS. §§53f. got transferred to after § 55, and then the words πρὸς τὸν πότον τρέπονται οἱ γοῦν παρελθόντες ἑς τὰ συμπόσια fell out. This is what we find in the MSS. According to this the guests having gorged themselves with food turn their necks round, gaze and sniff at the food, and then urge others to eat. Who are these others? The picture is barely intelligible, and undoubtedly Cohn’s order gives a better sense. On the other hand to postulate first the transposition and then the omission of some ten words seems drastic, particularly as, so far as I can see, their retention would not have made worse nonsense. Conybeare translates the manuscript version without apparently finding anything very incongruous. Graffigna (1992, 66, as also Conybeare 1895), reject the C-W change. Likewise, Daumas and Miquel state: “Ce traitement drastique infligé au texte porte la marque do son époque et ne peut être suivi” (Daumas and Miquel 1963, 117–118). They argue that the passage makes good sense without the transposition: even after the guests have eaten all they can, they enjoy the sight and smells of the food and urge one another to eat more, while offering thankful compliments to the host. The transposition is wholly without support from the manuscripts, and the more conservative position of Conybeare seems preferable. However, there is perhaps a middle way in moving a smaller section of § 55 to a position after §54.

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(§54) Seven tables at least and more are brought in Following what seems to be a short lacuna concerning the artistry of preparing food, this is now all brought in to the dining room. The important number seven in the treatise, which focuses strongly on the seventh day and its sacred celebration among the Therapeutae (cf. §§ 30, 32, 36, 65) is here used in relation to the abundance of tables filled with food. The reference to numerous tables (courses of food) is a sign of luxury surpassing that condoned by the first Roman emperor (Suetonius, Aug. 74), but in line with actual practices described by Juvenal (Sat. 1.94–95). It is imagined that the tables themselves are brought in and then food is distributed to the reclining guests by the aforementioned slaves. full of everything land and sea and rivers and air supply, all chosen and wellfleshed, consisting of animals, of fish, of birds, each one of these differing indeed in the preparations and the garnishings. And, in order not to leave out any kind of thing in Nature, last tables full of fruit are brought in, apart from the tables for the festal cups and the so-called “after-dinners.” Banquets of the well-to-do typically featured a profusion of rich foods served in a carefully orchestrated sequence to give maximal pleasure to the diners and the strongest proof of the host’s wealth (Dunbabin 2003, 157–160). Presentation and visual appearances counted for much (cf. Prob. 31). It becomes evident that Philo is not describing meals in general but specifically major dinner parties or banquets of the wealthy. He does not mention any special (religious, political, etc.) purpose to these meals, but the “festal cups” indicate special occasions. (=§55b) Swivelling their necks around in a circle they gloat with eyes and nostrils at their abundance and plenty, and at their wafting aroma. As noted above, this section has been moved right after § 53 in the C-W text. Colson supplies the designation of the “assembled guests” as the subject. The question that prompts this textual move in C-W is: when are the guests most likely to turn their heads around, enjoy the sights and smells, and then give the word to start eating, while offering many compliments about the presentation and the host? These sentences do not fit where they stand in the manuscripts, since they come after the guests have already stuffed themselves and yet they then are described as looking around at the abundance and the aromas. Rather, their reaction should follow the arrival of the tables of food. This is the rationale guiding the move of this section not to §53 but after § 54.

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When then they have become sated by both seeing and smelling, they urge eating, praising not a little the preparation and the host of the extravagance. It is not very clear who is being urged to eat. The word “extravagance,” παρασκευή, appears in §48. For the word κελεύουσιν, “urge,” see LSJ 937, sense 9, with infinitive. They are ordering, exhorting or urging people to eat. They also praise the host of the extravagance, indicating here that there is one man in charge of the food. A lacuna follows; Philo would have described eating. (§55a) Then while some tables are taken out empty on account of the greediness of party-guests, who like feeding gulls stuff themselves so as even to gnaw at the bones, while mutilating and mangling others they leave them be half-eaten. Note that the subject of the first part of the sentence is the “tables” of § 54, but in the middle of the sentence the tables become the direct object. What Philo particularly emphasizes here is the extravagant abundance of foods of all types carefully prepared to delight the eye and nostrils. The people who attend these banquets, however, uniformly greedy, devour the food like gulls. This comparison with wild animals recalls § 9 and § 40: Philo does not romanticize animals or humans who act like them. The result of this abundant food is not thanksgiving or prayer but rather an exciting of vicious appetites, at least gluttonous ones, though Philo often associates rich dining with the stirring of sexual desires, often in unlawful directions (Leg. 3.138–139). The mutilating and mangling of half-eaten food reminds us of previously-mentioned Cyclops: the dinner guests have turned into monsters. They are compared to scavenging birds. The term for bird here, αἴθυια, may mean “seagull.” Philo uses the same term with the same verb ἐμφορέω in Leg. 3.155; Det. 101 and Spec. 4.113. No other ancient author seems to use the word in this sense as a type of voracity. When finally they refuse, having filled their stomachs up to their throats, they are empty in terms of desire, as if having not tried the foods. The word ἀπειρηκότες is a perfect active masculine nominative plural participle that seems to best fit an otherwise unattested verb ἀπειράω, which is easy to understand as meaning “having not tried;” it is indicated by Philo’s fairly frequent use of the adjective ἄπειρος, and in §52 there is the word “lack of taste” (ἀπειροκαλία, literally “untried of good taste”). The word “empty” (κενοί), of the diners, echoes the same word (κεναί) used of the tables at the beginning of the section. Despite gorging themselves they are unsatisfied. Nothing quells their desires. After these words the Greek manuscripts follow with the words: “Swivelling their necks around in a circle … extravagance” (τοὺς αὐχένας ἐν κύκλω … πολυτε-

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λείας) which we have moved up in the ordering of the text and designated as “= §55b” in the translation to indicate the shift. If this passage were not moved to follow §54, it would read as indicating that the diners turn their heads around to see new tables with wafting aromas brought in (since they still have desire and a wish to try food), and urge some unidentified other people to eat. They do not do so themselves, but rather must be sated by seeing and smelling. The food that they compliment their hosts on is what fills up the “after-dinner” tables. This makes absolutely no sense. (§56) But why is it appropriate to recount things which are already condemned by many of the more moderate people as exacerbating the passions, whereas the lessening of these would be helpful? Philo draws this part of the treatise to a close in § 56 with the remark that many of the more moderate people now condemn the excesses of such symposia, and indicates something of the audience Philo addresses: they consider themselves moderate. He returns to the mention in §48 of someone might approve of certain luxurious banquets, but who may be countered by others in the audience who are more moderate, who may now object to his presentation itself as simply stating what every philosopher would say. In mentioning of the passions (ἐπιθυμίαι) and how one should lessen rather than exacerbate them, Philo draws on a great wealth of discussion about the dangers of the passions in Graeco-Roman literature, and also alludes to his own writings about these. For a detailed discussion, see Kerns 2012. Control of the passions is a principle concern in living a life of virtue, and thus explicit reference to the passions occurs elsewhere in the treatise at §§ 2, 55, 59, 61, 74. For one may pray about things most abominable—hunger and thirst— rather than the plentiful abundance of foods and drinks in feasts such as these. The word ἀπευκταιότατα is difficult to translate; ἀπευκταῖος is only found elsewhere in Philo’s works at Ios. 187, in the superlative form, where it is translated by Colson as “of evil omen.” However, LSJ 187 translates ἀπευκτός as “abominable” and it seems best to use this here. Philo’s comment appears to hint at what he has said previously (§§24, 34–35) about how the Therapeutae deal with the most pressing needs of life. The word εὐωχία, “festal occasion,” has already been noted in §48. Philo’s closing words in this part of the treatise are concerned with what people should pray for. These people seem to think only about themselves and their appetites and pleasures. In Leg. 3.220, Philo observes them negatively in much the same way: “Look at that glutton, what a slave he is to the dishes pre-

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pared by the skill of cooks and confectioners” (cf. Agr. 66). In Prov. 2:67 he writes about “the superior intelligence of the sober and frugal, while those who cram themselves with food and drink are most wanting in wisdom, because their reason is drowned by the stuff that is brought in.” Thus, human ability to think and reason requires rejection of the gluttony so evident in the banquets of §§48–56. Perhaps we should read §56 to mean that even these sensualists sometimes think about God (in Stoic terms?) or the gods—but only to pray that their sensual pleasures continue without interruption. In terms of the wise maxim that closes this discussion of luxury and excess, it states that a prayer of entreaty concerning hunger and thirst is appropriate, in order to be sated and healthy, but a prayer for abundance of food and drink is not. Thus Prov. 30:3, “Remove far from me falsehood and lying; give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with the food that is needful for me,” which is echoed also in the words of the Lord’s prayer (Matt 6:11, Luke 11.3): “Give us this day our daily bread.”

C

Poor Models §§57–63

In this concluding part of the larger section on bad symposia §§ 40–63, Philo turns from describing reprehensible behaviour and extravagance in food, drink and arrangements to focus on two renowned philosophical symposia, often used as models. They are philosophical in the sense that two philosophers, Xenophon and Plato, thought them worthy of remembrance in order to provide later generations examples of the well conducted dinner party. Xenophon’s symposium is disposed by in a single sentence in § 58, and Philo concludes this section with a lengthy attack on Plato’s symposium for encouraging sexual lusts (§§59–62) and presenting what Philo considers the silly fiction of Aristophanes (§63). Philo is particularly vehement in attacking pederasty, which he thinks Plato celebrates. Yet the main point Philo seems to be driving at is that values as displayed in banquet customs lead to a mode of philosophy that is clever, but morally debilitating and finally contemptible. Even the philosophy of Plato is corrupted by its tolerance or encouragement of sexual licence. The great alternative which Philo is presenting throughout this treatise is the philosophy of Moses as realized by the Therapeutae. Mosaic philosophy’s excellence (and superiority to pagan philosophizing) is on display in the example he provides of the disciplined lifestyle of the Therapeutae.

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Detailed Comments (§57) Of the symposia in Greece those most celebrated and significant are two at which Socrates also was present—the one given by Kallias when he entertained feasts for Autolykos on having won the crown, and one by Agathon See Textual Note. From his lengthy accounts of contemporary dining customs in feasts, Philo turns to discuss two literary symposia. He says these are celebrated and significant, in that these are the two most famous or noteworthy dinner descriptions in all Graeco-Roman literature. His real emphasis is on their connection with philosophy: Socrates, the greatest of philosophical examples (see comments on §4), was present (παρετύγχανε) in both of these banquets. In §57 Philo provides quite a list of famous names: Socrates, Kallias, Autolykos, Agathon, appealing to an audience familiar with the literature: the two works titled Symposium, by Plato and Xenophon (see Koskenniemi 2019, 98– 101). Philo esteems Socrates (QG 2.3, 6; 3.3), but he can also be critical of him, by noting that his philosophy was concerned with his own self (Somn. 1.57–68), implying knowledge of Socrates’ maxim “Know yourself” (Plato, Phileb. 48c; Phaedr. 229e). He knows him also as someone unconcerned with material possessions (Mut. 146; Plant. 65; Prov. 2.13, 21). Philo’s general concern seems to be with the values those literary banquets illustrate or affirm, as opposed to any details of the particular proceedings at those dinner parties. Of these banquets, the one given by Kallias when he put on feasts for Autolykos having won the crown is that of Xenophon’s Symposium, while the one by Agathon refers to Plato’s Symposium (Xenophon, Symp. 1; Plato, Symp. 173a; Plutarch alludes to the account of Xenophon in Pyth. orac. 401c). Mention of Autolykos is interesting given what has preceded in regard to the fighting of the revellers, since Autolykos was a pancratiast wrestler, who won a Panathenaic victory in 421 BCE. Xenophon describes him as both having beauty, modesty and temperance, and he sat with his father, while others reclined (Symp. 1.8–9); Kallias was in love with him, and hosted the symposium in honour of his victory (Symp. 1.2). His fate was unhappy, in that he was executed during the reign of the Thirty Tyrants (Plutarch, Lys. 15.5). The tragic poet Agathon put on a banquet at his house on his winning of a prize at the Lenaia in Athens (416BCE), and thus appears as a character in Plato’s Symposium, and also one of the speech-makers (Symp. 194e–197e). He also appears in the Protagoras, and as a comic character in Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazousai (411BCE).

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which also Xenophon and Plato, men who with respect to both character and reasonings are philosophers, judged worthy of remembrance The word τά functions as meaning “with respect to,” so Xenophon and Plato are philosophers in respect to both their characters and their reasonings (τε ἤθη καὶ τοὺς λόγους). In Philo’s extant works he mentions Xenophon only once, here in §§ 57–58. He mentions Plato by name 11 other times: Opif. 119, 133; Prob. 13; Aet. 13, 14, 16, 17, 27, 38, 52, 141 and in Arithmetica 65a. The adjective “Platonic,” Πλατωνικός, occurs in Contempl. 59 and in Aet. 17 it appears as Πλατώνειος (see also Prov. 1.20, 22; 2.42, 52, 56; QG 1.6; 3.3; QE 2.118). Plato’s philosophy is a fundamental basis for Philo’s thought (Runia 1986; 2003b; Radice 1989; Niehoff 2010a; Dillon 1977, 139–183; Hadas-Lebel 2003, 263–265). He can be appealed to as one writing with “sacred authority” (Prob. 13), and termed “the great Plato” (Aet. 52), who is the “greatest of all philosophers” (Prov. 2.42; see Koskenniemi 2019, 102–106). For they have written these up as worthy to be recorded, which they supposed people still to come would use as examples (paradeigma) of proper conduct in symposia. The word “remembrance-worthy” or “worthy to be recorded” (ἀξιομνημόνευτος) is found elsewhere (at Migr. 17, 18; Somn. 2.109) and would seem to indicate there is a literary work. The word χρήσεσθαι is a future, infinitive middle form of χράω and the somewhat idiomatic Greek cannot be rendered very literally here. Colson has: “surmising that they would serve to posterity as models of the happily conducted banquet.” The word paradeigma (παραδείγμα), meaning an “example” or “model,” is important here in defining what Philo himself is doing in the treatise, in providing the example of the Therapeutae to illustrate philosophical excellence (see Introduction, pp. 27–31). Philo here suggests that while these examples of symposia of eminent philosophers are designed to be a guide for conduct at symposia in the present day, they are actually poor models, vastly inferior to the one that Philo will be providing. (§58) But, nevertheless, even these, compared with those of our people who have embraced the contemplative life, will appear ridiculous. This section prepares readers for the reference in § 63 to “the disciples of Moses,” but, when Philo uses the expression “our people” (τῶν ἡμετέρων) it is designed not only to function in contradistinction to “the others”; it also links the people Philo describes with Philo himself and the whole of the Jewish community in Alexandria. As noted, §3 defined the group in question as Jews by presenting them as those who were “schooled in the sacred laws,” a point fur-

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ther explicated in §§25, 28–29. Philo’s expression in § 58 likewise points to a group of Jews, people from his side in the debate “who have embraced the contemplative life.” To contrast symposia (banquets) was a literary strategy found also in Athenaeus’s Deipnosophistae (5.3–19; 187b–192c). Here Xenophon’s Symposium is criticized for promoting homoerotic love, given the victory of Autolykos as the occasion for it (see Brumberg-Kraus 2014). But it is said also that Plato’s Symposium is full of “sneerers” who mock each other and drink too much (Deipn. 5.12; 187c). Each one has its pleasures then, but more popular is the symposium of Xenophon. The word ἀνθρωπικώτερον simply means “more human,” but in regard to pleasure it seems to be designed to differentiate between the pleasure defined within Plato’s Symposium and that of Xenophon’s, with the latter being more popular or crowd-pleasing. Philo consistently describes the Therapeutae as resisting the temptations of pleasure (§§2, 68–69). Elsewhere he himself often denounces pleasure, sometimes as represented by the serpent in Genesis 3 (see Runia 2001, 373–384, who notes Opif. 157–159, 165–166; Sacr. 21–33; Agr. 94– 101). Flute-girls and dancers and magicians and comedians are greatly thinking about fun in tricks and jokes See Textual Note. Xenophon, Symposium 2.1–2 refers specifically to a “girl who was an expert pipe-player, another who was an acrobatic dancer, and a very attractive boy who both played the lyre and danced extremely well.” The girl dancer throws and catches hoops while she dances, and subsequently turns somersaults over upright sword-blades. One of the dinner guests, Philippos does a parody of these professional dancers’ efforts to amuse the others, which is portrayed in a very comic way. Near the end there is a pantomime of heterosexual love (in Chapter 8), which arouses sexual feelings in the departing guests. Philo does not just recount what is happening with the amusements but he refers to the actors who are “thinking” (φρονοῦντες) of these things. It is the amusements that are occupying their minds. Colson rightly says that Philo’s account of Xenophon’s treatise is “very superficial” (PLCL 9:521), focused on amusements mentioned mainly in the beginning and end, in contrast to the conversation that dominates the treatise. He considers that it fails to take note of the fact that pederasty “is as prominent here as in Plato’s Symposium.” As noted, Winston (1981, 320) calls Philo’s description of the symposia of Xenophon and Plato “clearly grossly unfair.” We

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may note that pederasty is more directly and strongly condemned by Socrates in Xenophon’s Symposium (he calls it “debauchery” in 8.32) than in Plato’s Symposium (see below). there are some others also thinking of fun in very merry relaxations. For the text and punctuation used here for this translation, slightly divorced from C-W, see the Textual Notes. The term “very happy” (ἱλαρωτέραις) at the end of §58 is probably meant to recall the term’s application to the Therapeutae dinners (§40), where a higher kind of happiness is on display. It is paired with the term “relaxations” (ἀνέσεσι), which can also have a pejorative sense of indulgences (LSJ 135). An ironic tone seems to permeate this entire comment. (§59) The Platonic symposium is almost entirely about erotic love, but not of men impassioned for women, or women for men and this alone, Philo’s use of a term “impassioned” (ἐπιμανέντων, from ἐπιμαίνω) indicates being driven wild, and suggests that even heterosexual love is opposed to the highest rationality. He evidently supposes that men and women are equally capable of such “madness.” Philo has already spoken of the banquets as manifesting other forms of madness: violence (§40), drunkenness which has lost all but one of the senses (§45), gluttony in contrast to “sober-mindedness” (§ 56). He will shortly describe pederasts as “blind to other things.” The Therapeutae’s celibacy presumably means that they are free of such madness. for these passions are subject to the laws of Nature, but rather it is about the erotic love of men for males who differ only by age. While the wild desire of men for women and vice versa at least accords with Nature, in Philo’s view, the desire of men for boys, the difference only being one of age, is something that does not, he thinks. Philo describes pederasty as being contrary to Nature. Philo does not directly speak of the Mosaic laws on sexual practice in Contempl. (e.g., Lev. 18:22; 20:13), but Philo’s views against pederasty link with what he states also in Abr. 135; Spec. 2.50; 3.37–39; Anim. 49, and Hypoth. 7.1 which cohere also with Josephus, C. Ap. 2.190–191, 199, 215, 273–275; Let. Aris. 152; T. Naph. 3.4; Rom 1:26–27, and Ps-Phocylides 3, 190–191, 213–214 (see Loader 2011, 204–217). Wilson (2005) has noted that the overlaps between the texts of Josephus, Philo and Ps.-Phocylides in particular may indicate a common source. In both Josephus, C. Ap. 2.199 and Ps. Phoc. 175–176 it is considered a case of observing matters “according to Nature,” thus sexual intercourse between males—in practice meaning pederasty—is condemned, and deserving of death (cf. Hypoth. 7.1). Wilson (2005, 19–22, 196) suggests there was a kind of basic compendium of Jewish common law behind all of these.

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Common notions of what was according to Nature could be appealed to by Philo here. It was assumed wrongly that there was no same-sex intercourse in the natural world (Plutarch, Brut. 990d; Ps.-Lucian, Amores 22; Ovid. Metam. 9.733–734; Plato, Leg. 836c, 838e, 841d; cf. Phaedr. 250e), and this was despite observations of same-sex behaviour among animals as noted by Aristotle (Hist. an. 6.2; Pliny, Nat. 10.166; Aelian, Nat. am. 15.11; see Wilson 2005, 197). In §52 there was already the indication of lust by male diners towards slave boys, but that is no longer the focus of attention here, where both the men and boys are assumed to be free. For indeed if anything about erotic love and heavenly Aphrodite seems to have been cleverly said, it is brought in for the sake of wit. The word “heavenly” (οὐρανίου) is as much a feminine genitive adjective as it is masculine, and Colson’s translation with its linkage of the word to “erotic love” (ἔρωτος) is not quite right (PLCL 9:149). “Heavenly Aphrodite” was a frequent reference to the goddess. The idea of a heavenly and common love appears in both Xenophon (Symp. 8.8–11) and Plato (especially in the speech of Pausanius in Symp. 180D–181c, 185b–c). In Xenophon’s work Socrates himself distinguishes between heavenly and common love, mainly as a distinction between physical love and love of mind or friendship (8.8–11). In Plato’s Symposium the distinction is worked up not in a speech of Socrates but in a speech of Pausanias. Pausanius says that there is a heavenly love/Aphrodite and a popular or vulgar love. The latter is “set on the body more than the soul,” but it is also directed toward women as well as boys. The heavenly Aphrodite, Pausanias avers, pertains to the relationship between men and boys and this love is “precious to both public and private life; for it compels lover and beloved alike to feel a keen concern for their own virtue” (184b–c). Philo indicates though that true philosophy here is wanting, and it is all about appearing witty. (§60) For the greatest part of it is taken up by the common and ordinary erotic love The practice of erotic love in symposia seems to take us back to “the symposia now emerging everywhere” (νυνὶ τῶν συμποσίων πανταχοῦ) in § 48 which led to a discussion of luxury in banquets, including the luxury of slave boys dressed up as girls. As Colson (PLCL 9:149) states, “Philo here identifies Plato’s πάνδημος ἔρως with pederasty” (cf. Spec. 3.37–39; Abr. 135–137). Colson (PLCL 9:521) also says that Philo’s criticisms of Plato’s Symposium “are not very creditable to him” that “his equating πάνδημος ἔρως with παιδεραστία is entirely wrong.” In Plato’s Symposium Pausanias in fact says that pederasty can be a manifestation of heavenly or of ordinary erotic love, depending on whether or not it is

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oriented toward the mind and virtue (in which case it is “heavenly”) or toward the body (in which case it is “ordinary”). In Socrates’s speech Diotima teases him about his fondness for beautiful boys, and Alcibiades later reports that he (wrongly, it turned out) assumed that Socrates wanted him for his body, but it is not the case that all erotic love is between men and boys. Colson says that “much of the picture ascribed by Socrates to Diotima is very much after Philo’s heart. Indeed, he himself uses the word ἔρως in the same idealistic way, e.g., De Ebr. 136.” Socrates’s speech about the ascent to the immaterial Idea of Beauty (Symp. 210a–212b) seems to be ignored here. A.E. Taylor (1926, 209) long ago remarked that the Symposium was in antiquity and remains today Plato’s most misunderstood work, especially in relation to same-sex relations, and indeed Philo’s presentation tends to prove the point. In §60 the “ordinary erotic love” Philo describes functions as the antithesis of heavenly love, and Plato’s Symposium is associated with the former. The heavenly love is exemplified instead by the Therapeutae, who have a love that impels them to seek the vision of God and rise on high in a blissful ecstasy (§§11–12; cf. 78, 85). From Philo’s perspective, Plato’s dialogue could be read as a “clever” but outrageous encouragement of pederasty, a form of love which Philo himself could only regard as “ordinary” and destructive of virtue and manliness. Clearly, Philo offers here a startling misconstruction of crucial portions of Plato’s work. However, the idea that Plato condoned pederasty is found also in Plutarch, Rect. rat. aud. 44f–45a, who cites Plato, Republic, 474d, to state that, “We know, at any rate, that all persons in the bloom of youth do somehow or other, as Plato says, act as a stimulus upon the man inclined to love; the fair ones he names “children of the gods,” the dark “manly,” while the hook-nosed he endearingly terms “kingly,” the snub-nosed “fetching,” the sallow “honey-hued,” and so welcomes and likes them all; for love, like ivy, is clever in attaching itself to any support.”1 In his work “On the Education of Children” 15 (Lib. ed. 11.11d–f), Plutarch admits to being equivocal, understanding how fathers can be outraged by admirers of their sons, but also he acknowledges this as positive thinking of “Socrates, Plato, Xenophon, Aeschines, Cebes, and that whole company of men who esteemed male erotic love.” Plutarch’s views on pederasty are notoriously ambiguous, and can be constructed negatively and positively; all is dependent on a construction of his notion of desire itself (see discussion in Ellis 2007, 127– 142, and Lucchesi 2013).

1 Transl. in Babbitt (ed.), 242.

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removing manliness, the most useful virtue in war and peace, and producing a female disease in their souls, and making androgynes of those who ought to have been trained in all the pursuits for valour It should be remembered here that the entire treatise is much concerned with the virtue of “manliness” or “courage” (ἀνδρεία), with the Therapeutae being examples of it in their resilience, order, dignity, anti-materialism, asceticism and endurance. They are all true “men”. Elsewhere Philo identifies this as the key virtue of Judaism: the law trains men towards ἀνδρεία (Virt. 18), and the paragon example is found in Moses, the “manly man” (so Conway 2008, 53– 58). Thus “female disease” is everything that is the opposite of this, the absence of masculinity, and a negative foil to masculinity (Irigaray 1985, 22, cf. Szesnat 1998a, 1998b, 1999; Swancutt 2003). LSJ (798) notes a similar expression in the comic poet Menander. As noted above, it is a Stoic construct to associate virtus or andreia with hardness and resilience, and anything softening the soul is therefore gendered as flabby and feminine. Seneca talks of the soul being made “womanish” (Ep. 82.2; 94.3). He can scold his friend Marullus for showing grief at his son’s death as being too womanly (molliter: Ep. 99.2). Rather he should embrace manliness, and not be a man who collapses and clings to the deceased at a funeral, one who is “womanish and weak” (effeminatum et enervem; Ep. 99.17) Where the expression female disease is found elsewhere in Philo’s writings, this is a kind of moral “effeminacy” or weakness in men, manifesting itself as unbridled desire, enjoyment of pleasure, shows of emotion or a fondness for luxury, including colour (Abr. 136; Spec. 1.325; 3:37; Prob. 124). Such a fondness for luxury or colour is revealed by appearance: in Prob. 124, a slave turns to a potential buyer described as one who had “a female disease, not male from his appearance” (θήλεια νόσος εἷχεν, ἐκ τῆς ὄψεως οὐκ ἄρρενα), and says, “you should buy me, for it seems to me you have need of a husband.” Abr. 133–136 deals with what happened with the Sodomites, who lived for pleasure, gluttony and lewdness, resulting from their huge wealth, the worst evil being “excess of goods”. Thus, they engaged in excessive drinking, eating fancy food and “unlawful penetrations” (ὀχείας ἐκθέσμους), both rape of married women and men (not initially defined as boys, see Loader 2011, 208) resulting in a punishment of sterility. Those they corrupted as passive partners in sex were then subject to the “female disease” by emasculating their bodies by luxury and luxuriousness, and their souls by degeneracy. In Spec. 1.325 Philo relates the term to eunuchs, banned from the Temple in Deut. 23:1, who are described as men who assume the passions and form of licentious women. In Spec. 3:37 the concern is with the boys who are penetrated in male pederastic relationships, and Philo defines them as having the “female disease” of effeminacy similarly to Contempl. 50–51,

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in that they braid their hair and wear make-up and perfume, becoming androgynes (§38). As previously, this is about luxurious and “feminine” behaviour among men. The purposes of the law of Moses is to train the soul in andreia, which is why, Philo states, it forbids men from wearing women’s clothing (Virt. 18–21, see Deut 22:5). As part of this, Philo defends the law of Moses in stating that both the pederastic lover and boy beloved should both be put to death, in accordance with an interpretation of Lev. 20:13 (Spec. 3.38–39), apparently because the manliness in both has been corrupted. Therefore, in Philo’s view the consequence of this kind of moral effeminacy in a man is to render him an androgyne (cf. Abr. 135–136; Spec. 3.37–38, see Szesnat 1998a; 1998b). A moral weakening of “manhood” in men is considered laxity of the soul. In terms of the soul, masculinity or femininity corresponds to categories of virtue or its absence: in QE 1.8 Philo would list these in a hierarchical order. The naturally feminine soul needs to relinquish her gender and turn male, because the female is “maternal, passive, material and sense-perceptible” while the male is “active, rational, immaterial and more akin to mind and thought.” This corresponds with over-arching concepts of male and female found throughout Philo’s allegorical works, explored in detail by Baer (1970). This passage of Contempl. is often read as criticism of the passive partner, who is penetrated like a woman, and thereby contracts in his soul “female disease” (Szesnat 1998), and becomes androgynous, but more obviously here it seems here that by succumbing to this ordinary erotic love all the men who actively lust are subject to the “female disease,” which is an absence of manliness itself, broadly construed. In §60 the subject is erotic love, Eros, who “makes” or “establishes” the androgynes. Philo uses ἀνδρογύνος seven times elsewhere: Sacr. 100; Her. 274; Somn. 1.126; Spec. 1.325; 3.38, 40–41; Virt. 21. While some passages (e.g., Spec. 3.38) speak directly and negatively about male pederasty, androgynes are defined more broadly elsewhere, without any necessary direct correlation with passive roles in male same-sex relations. There is even a cultic dimension: in Spec. 3.40– 41 Philo notes that such androgynes may be seen in public heading to minister in mysteries and rites of Demeter in Alexandria: these are defined as purpleclad eunuchs who march at the front of the processions. They have prominent public roles in an important religious environment. The term “androgyne” (ἀνδρόγυνος) may be compared with the term we may render as “gynandro” (γύνανδρος), used by Philo in Sacr. 100, where he criticizes men and women who try to take on the functions that properly belong only to the opposite sex (Sacr. 100), and in Virt. 21 likewise the term is used to insist that women wear women’s clothing as much as men wear men’s. In Her. 274 Philo speaks of the soul that comes down from heaven and resists the lures of

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the body—unlike some hybrid androgyne or gynandro (ἀνδρόγυνος or γύνανδρος) thereby associating the categories with desire.2 However, in Contempl. this may raise the question of why he has included women at all in the “men” he describes here, as the women Therapeutae are, as far as Philo presents them, quite “masculine” in these Stoic terms. The insistence on their feminine modesty, as in §§32–33, helps offset any criticism. Despite Philo’s critique of Plato here, Plato uses the term ἀνδρόγυνος only in Symp. 189e and 191d; both passages lie in the speech of Aristophanes and the reference is not to passive partners in male relationships, but to the original combination of man and woman which Aristophanes uses to explain heterosexual attraction. (§61) Maltreating the young age and leading it into the grade and condition of a lover-girl, Winston’s (1981, 51) translation, “degraded them to the class and condition of sex objects” brings out the way young boys are pursued and used for sex. Those who are passive objects of erotic love in pederastic relationships are described here now not as emasculated but injured, in Philo’s terms, in being reduced to the status of a young girl. Eros is the subject that is “maltreating” (λυμηνάμενος) them, or rather “the young age” (τὴν παιδικὴν ἠλικίαν), and thus the boys are seen as abused and “reduced”, with the assumption that boys should be higher status than girls. The word “lover-girl” (ἐρωμένης) is correspondingly feminine: literally the young age is reduced to the status (collectively) of a lover-girl. Here, strikingly, we are no longer discussing the boy slaves previously mentioned. The loss in status is a serious issue for a free male youth; clearly slave boys are not indicated here. A strict hierarchy that assumes male superiority is simply assumed. erotic love has also damaged the [active] lovers in the most important things: body, soul and property. “Erotic love” (ἔρως) continues to be the subject of the verb throughout the beginning of §61: erotic love wrecks havoc on not only male youth but on the older active lovers (τούς ἐραστάς). The lovers who have this erotic love and are acting upon it are likewise damaged, but not in loss of status, since they remain active. Their damage relates to their bodies, souls and property (οὐσία). This is explained in what comes next.

2 Colson, LCL 4:574–575 takes a different view of the passage, suspecting that γύνανδρος is an interpolation.

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For by necessity the mind of the pederast is set on the children, keensightedly on these alone, and he is blind to other things both private and public; his body is wasted away by the passions and even more so if he is unsuccessful; while his property is set to suffer in two ways: both from neglect, and from spending it on the lover-boy. Here explicitly we have the term “pederast” (παιδεραστής), drawing readers/ hearers back to the use of the term in §52 (cf. also Decal. 168; Spec. 3.39; 4.89), where the adult male diners were lusting after slave boys. However, the scenario now is that the boys that are the object of desire are free, since they have a status that can be reduced. Now this pederastic love is about “the erotic love of men for males who differ only by age” (§59), and in § 61 Philo speaks of the active (older) lover as pining away, “if he is unsuccessful” and as ruining himself financially. With this investment in gifts and the power of the beloved to reject the suitor, the desired passive partner cannot a slave. Hence the situation in view is that of two free males, as is assumed in the Socratic dialogues to which Philo is referring. In pedantic fashion, Philo proceeds to tick off the injuries to the active “lover,” the pederast. His soul suffers because he thinks only about the boy he loves, becoming blind to all other private and public interests. His body wastes away through longing, especially if he is unsuccessful. Finally, his property suffers because he does not pay attention to preserving it and also because he uses it to offer presents or bribes to the beloved. It is important to note that the man envisaged has property, and most likely social status. In Plato’s time erotic love between older and younger men went with andreia, and valour, the relationship of Achilles and Patroclus being the greatest model (see the speech by Phaedrus in Plato, Symp. 178d–180c and for discussion Foucault 1990, 36–37). It was assumed that a pederastic relationship with an older man would prompt a youth to become manly, brave and virtuous so as to better serve and defend the community (Nissinen 1998, 58). Philo simply asserts that, on the contrary, erotic love causes men to lose manliness, for both parties. In ancient Greece pederasty typically involved only free partners, relations between a slave and a master being considered improper. In a Roman context, however, being the passive partner was only acceptable for a slave and homoeroticism was not defended for its educational or political value (Nissinen 1998, 71). Roman orators and writers frequently criticized free youths who allowed themselves to be the passive partners, and spoke of them becoming “like women,” the active role in sexual penetration being assumed to be the only proper one for a “manly” man (Nissinen 1998, 72–84). Thus, this sexual practice becomes another way of defining the “Greek Other” (Niehoff 2010b) in a Roman context.

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Niehoff (2001, 149–150) argues convincingly that Philo in this passage takes (for himself, and by implication for the Therapeutae) the rhetorical side of Roman writers against the Greeks, since Romans sometimes styled pederasty “the Greek vice.” The Romans did not condemn all homosexual relationships, but—in sharp contrast to some Greek writers of the age of Socrates and Plato— they wrote and legislated against pederasty involving free boys. Often displaying a pro-Roman stance, Philo’s writings in general reflect a sense “both of affinity with Greek culture and superiority over it” (Niehoff 2001, 150). He is directly appealing to Roman attitudes here. It should be noted that in Contempl. 59–61 Philo speaks specifically about male pederasty, not homosexuality as we may define it in modern terms. Nowhere in Philo is there a concept of two males of the same social status engaging in a loving sexual relationship. His model of male sex is invariably one of an older, free male penetrating a boy/youth (free or slave). (§62) Growing beside it is another even greater ordinary evil. In §60 used πάνδημος to characterize the “ordinary” erotic love involved in pederasty. Now he uses the same adjective to refer to the injury done to the community of which the lovers are members. The basic injury in view is one of depopulation. For they generate desolation of cities, a lack of the best type of people and barrenness and sterility. “They have children” (τεχνάζονται) is translated “generate” for the sense; there is clearly a pun intended. Philo seems to be thinking not so much of social class as of persons of the most intelligent and virtuous type. It will be recalled that the Therapeutae apparently come from the higher classes, given their educational level, former ownership of property and freedom of choice. He argues here particularly about a dearth of persons roughly of his own social class. That in turn suggests that he thinks of pederasty as something particularly appealing to the elite classes, and indeed Nissinen notes that in classical Athens pederasty was linked with “elite upbringing” (Nissinen 1998, 58). The generation of barrenness and sterility relates back to what Philo said of Sodom, that as a result of their lusts the Sodomites were cursed with sterility (Abr. 135). Philo is clearly not trying to explain the law of Moses. In Contempl. he criticizes pederastic sex solely on general grounds that would have had particular resonance in a Roman context (see Niehoff 2001, 148–150).

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In this they imitate people ignorant of farming, by sowing in a saline or stony soil and hard places, instead of a deep-earthed plain. In this, additionally done so as to produce nothing to spring forth, they even destroy the fallen seeds. Philo here implies that the only true purpose of sexual intercourse is to produce children, with human seeds needing to be planted in a female uterus. The latter is compared with fertile soil. Philo does not say that the pederasts are routinely ignorant of basic facts of sexual reproduction, only that they wilfully behave like farmers so foolish as to throw seeds where germination is impossible. Philo would not doubt that the pederasts seek something other than begetting a new generation. What his argument assumes, however, is that sexual activity ought to—as he believes it to be in accord with Nature—aim at reproduction; Philo’s discussion in Spec. 3.12–36 assumes the Mosaic law and Nature are in complete accord. Indeed, here there is actually accord with the thought of Plato as presented in Leg. 838e: Plato wishes to stop forms of sexual intercourse other than heterosexual relations within marriage. He speaks of male same-sex (pederastic) relations as murder of the human race and goes on to employ images and language remarkably like that of Philo: “I know of a device for making a natural use of reproductive intercourse—on the one hand, by abstaining from the male and not slaying of set purpose the human stock, nor sowing seed on rocks and stones where it can never take root and have fruitful increase.” Colson (PLCL 9:150–151) suggests rightly that Philo may well have this Platonic passage in mind, and he uses the same image in relation to men having sexual intercourse with women who are deemed “barren” (Spec. 3.34). It is curious, however, that Philo uses Plato when he has just associated him with the approval of pederasty in the poor model of his symposium. In Spec. 3.39 also, where Philo speaks directly of a pederast, he states: “Finally, like a bad farmer he lets the deep-soiled and fruitful fields lie sterile, by taking steps to keep them from bearing, while he spends his labour night and day on soil from which no growth at all can be expected.” The concern here seems to go back to the assumption that a man must “be fruitful and multiply” (Gen 1:28) with his seed, not spill it unproductively. It should be noted that in regard to the celibacy of the Therapeutae, Philo implies that they are not unproductive of children; they have had children, prior to their leaving the city to come to their excellent spot outside it, to whom they leave their property (§ 13). Philo works hard rhetorically to ensure that the men at least have appeared to fulfil their duty, though this mention of children somewhat clashes with what he states about the women being “mostly old virgins” (§ 68; for further see Taylor 2003, 248–262).

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(§63) I remain silent about the creations of the myths and the double-bodied ones, who at the beginning were attached to each other by unifying powers, after which their joined parts were divided, when the harmony by which they were secured was loosened. Philo seems quite clearly to be referring to the famous speech of Aristophanes in Plato, Symp.189d–190b, although Philo’s term for “double-bodied” (δισώματος) does not occur. Colson (PLCL, 151, note b) remarks that “the allusion is to the combination of men and women, the original third sex” presented in that speech. In that famous speech the comic dramatist presents a fanciful explanation of human love in terms of each person seeking his or her “original half.” Originally, Aristophanes says, humans were joined together in pairs. When the gods realised that they were in that condition so powerful that they might storm heaven, Zeus wisely decided to cut them in half. Some of the original pairs were male-male, some were female-female, and some were male-female. Hence Aristophanes is “explaining” both homosexual and heterosexual attraction. Philo may well have interpreted Aristophanes’s speech as an attempt both to explain and to justify male homosexual desire as something as “natural” as heterosexual desire. Given Philo’s disparaging words here, it is remarkable that in Opif. 152 he speaks of the heterosexual attraction of Adam and Eve as though they were “two separate halves of a single living being,” with obvious allusion to Symp. 189–193 (so Runia 2001, 357). Of course, the Genesis 2 account of woman being fashioned from a part of man could by itself suggest the notion that the sexes were originally one. We could explain the discrepancy by thinking of different audiences or supposing that Philo changed his mind one way or the other about Plato’s text between writing Contempl. and Opif. Perhaps Philo is happy to allude to Aristophanes’s speech to explain the mutual desire of man and woman. He is, on the contrary, eager to repudiate use of that text to explain or defend pederastic desire (though see Runia 2001, 357–358). Winston (1981, 320) rightly notes that “the rabbis echo the myths of the androgyne creature” and cites Gen. Rab. 8.1. For all these things are seductive, able to entice the ears with the novelty of the notions. We now reach the maxim that closes this section of the treatise in terms of its overall structure. The poor models of symposia in Plato and Xenophon contain elements that are essentially seductive and lead people astray. Philo often contrasts the “myths” of Greek literature with the “truth” that is found in the Jewish scriptures, especially the Pentateuch (see Wolfson 1968, 1:33). Love and truth belong together, just as the true God must be worshipped in contrast to all

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the follies of Graeco-Egyptian religion (§§3–10). Philo is willing to admit that the examples show a beguiling cleverness and novelty, just as he recognizes humour and cleverness in Plato’s Symposium (§60). When, from many turns from first youth, the pupils of Moses have learnt to love truth, they look down on these, and continue on undeceived. The expression “from many turns from first youth” indicates a cycle of years passing, though the passage of time may also indicate encyclical education. Those who study Moses have been educated in it from first youth in loving truth as opposed to falsehood (note here the language of the Two Ways). They look down on people who behave badly, and do not get deceived by error. Philo’s designation “the pupils of Moses” (οἱ Μωυσέως γνώριμοι) is one of great approval (Taylor 2003, 132–133) and will be explained further in § 64 as those who have dedicated their life “to knowledge and contemplation of the matters of Nature according to the sacred instructions of the prophet Moses,” which develops what has been stated already in § 3, where they are “schooled from Nature and the sacred laws.” While on one level it refers to all Jews (ideally), it particularly refers to people who interpret the sacred scriptures allegorically (Det. 86; Post. 12; Conf. 39; Cong. 177; Mos. 2.205; Spec. 1.319, 345; 2.88, 256; Hypoth. 11.1; Her. 81; QG 3:8, cf. Virt. 65; Mut. 233, see Hay 1979–1980, 45). The pupils of Moses look down at the models of symposia presented by the Hellenes. Even the greatest cultural achievement of the Greeks, Platonic philosophy, must be judged inadequate by persons who have been schooled in the correct interpretation of the philosophy of Moses. This seems to be the final lesson to which all of §§40–63 points: the folly and inadequacy of GraecoEgyptian civilization in contrast to that of the Jews, as properly exemplified. With the name “Moses” we are clearly given the Jewish answer to all the previously mentioned heroes of Hellenistic literature and philosophy. Moses in Philo’s writings is more than a man, and much like a god (Sacr. 8–10; Mos. 1.27, 158; Mut. 125–129; see Litwa 2014; Feldman 2007; Meeks 1968, 354–371; Borgen 1996; Helleman 1990). He is the “greatest and most perfect of men” (Mos. 1.1), presenting an ideal masculinity as a kind of divinity (see Conway 2003, 489). He was named “god and king of the whole nation and was one who entered, as we are told, the darkness where God was” (Mos. 1.158). As Conway notes he becomes God by becoming more the perfect man. Thus, all who follow Moses, the perfect man, are truly “men” and thus truly more like God.

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§§64–89 The Right Symposia Philo now turns to his prime examples of excellence in virtue, having created a presentation of the worst possible symposia of those of the Graeco-Egyptian world. He will do so by concentrating on key aspects of the example he shows: their superior philosophy, peace and order, rejection of pleasures, equality, sobriety, edification, musicality, modesty and piety. With all these features, combined with the capacity to see the true reality of Nature/God, they reach the peak of happiness.

A

Superior Philosophy §§64–65

We are now led back to where Philo left off in § 40. Philo re-introduces the group he will use as his examples, making it perfectly clear that they are Jews who are guided by Scripture. His focus will concern symposia—festive dinners—as they take place on Sabbaths, and also on special Sabbath celebrations every seven weeks. As he has done with the descriptions of the Hellenic symposia, now also with these: we are given a remarkably vivid picture. But it is a complete contrast. Everything about the Therapeutae exhibits balance and self-control. Philo picks up on what he has already said about the group in describing their location, housing and clothing, picking up in many ways where he left off at the end of their meetings in the sanctuary on the Sabbath for the discourse, and their Sabbath meal (§§36–37). From reaching that point of food earlier, he briefly mentioned clothing, summed up the Two Ways, and then identified features of the wrong way in his contrasting example. Now we go back to their dinner, and the right way, and we are reminded several times of what Philo has said earlier. Detailed Comments (§64) So, since these well-known symposia are full of such foolishness— having in themselves their own refutation, if anyone does not wish to look to the opinion and the report handed down about them as being altogether correct Following on from §63, where Philo draws his detailed refutation of the “example” of the symposia of Plato and Xenophon to a close, § 64 introduces Philo’s © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2021 | doi:10.1163/9789004439238_009

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much better example, in terms of the model of the Therapeutae, or more generally the “pupils of Moses” referred to in §63, which indicates in particular those Jews who follow an allegorical interpretation of Scripture (see above) along philosophical lines: the Therapeutae are ultimately the best representatives of all students of Moses. This transition paragraph § 64 looks back at least to § 57, but also to the whole section §§40–63, with its initial launching statement in § 40: “I wish also to speak of their common meetings and their very cheerful ways of behaving in symposia, as contrasted with the symposia of the others.” Here he sums up something of what he has discussed of the bad symposia models, and then goes on to identify the contrasting example of the Therapeutae. The word ἀλλ’ in the translation is given as “so,” rather than “but,” since it indicates the culmination of the section on the symposia of the Hellenes, as well as the start of the new one on the Therapeutae. This comment also provides a quick note again of the Two Ways, pitting the “foolishness” of the well-known symposia with the “knowledge” of those he will now describe from among Jewish examples. The previous symposia referred to explicitly are the philosophical drinking parties made famous by the dialogues of Plato and Xenophon (see §§ 57–59), as well as the contemporary dinners that are supposed to function in some way in imitation of these. The symposium as an event comprises everything that takes place during the whole dinner party occasion, while the meal itself is referred to as the “dinner” (δεῖπνον, §83). Philo allows for some opportunity to doubt the reports of the models, in wondering perhaps if they are “altogether correct” (πάνυ κατωρθωμένων, κατορθόω, meaning “set upright, erect”). In stating, if anyone does not wish to look to the opinion the assumption is that there are many who would reckon the famous symposia as being philosophically admirable, but the reports might not be quite accurate. I will set in contrast ἀντιτάξω is used here at the beginning and the end of the foregoing long critique (§§40–63) that provides foils for the example of the Therapeutae (see Hay 2003). It is a signal that the opposite case serves to emphasize what he will now describe. the symposia of those who have dedicated their personal manner of life and themselves to knowledge and contemplation of the matters of Nature This connects with §3 and §63, as above. As for symposia, they are not inherently wrong; they can be managed well (indeed Ep. Arist. begins with a symposium). But they are very different for the good examples Philo will now

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describe. Nature is given as the key focus of the knowledge and contemplation of the Therapeutae. This language of Nature is part of the Alexandrian Jewish philosophical tradition, pioneered by Aristobulus, who developed an allegorical method of interpretation inherited from the Stoics. He stated, for example: “For our lawgiver Moses proclaims arrangements of Nature and preparations for great events by expressing that which he wishes to say in so many ways, by using words that refer to other matters (I mean matters relating to outward appearances)” (Frag. 2; Eusebius, Praep. ev. 8.10.3).1 Since God’s greatness permeates Nature, contemplation of Nature is a way of understanding God. According to Aristobulus, apparent contradictions in the scriptures can be overcome by interpreting texts in accordance with the laws of Nature (Frag. 2: Praep. ev. 8.10.2). In Contempl. Philo uses the word “Nature” (φύσις) 12 times, drawing a strong parallel between Mosaic law and Nature. Those who are focused on Nature have devoted their personal manner of life and themselves (τὸν ἵδιον βίον καὶ ἐαυτους) to it. The conjunction indicates a distinction between the dedication of action (manner of life) and being (themselves intrinsically). according to the most sacred instructions of the prophet Moses. For Moses and his significance see above on §63. The name of Moses is used three times in this treatise (§63, §64, and §87), and those who follow him properly are his γνώριμοι. The repeated use of the name of Moses in these two paragraphs is particularly striking. For προφήτης see § 25 and § 87. The knowledge and understanding of Nature is afforded by means of the interpretation of Mosaic writings which are “most sacred.” These have already been referred to in §25 and §28. This emphasizes the key texts of the Therapeutae are the key texts of Philo himself: most of his own allegorical work concentrates on the Pentateuch, understood to be the five books written by Moses. Philo uses the expression “the sacred instructions” (αἱ ἱεραί ὑφηγήσεις) of Moses’s law in Spec. 2.64, 256 and see Congr. 134; Mut. 204. (§65) Of prime importance, they gather every seventh of seventh days For of prime importance the words τὸ μὲν πρῶτον seem to indicate something of prime importance in degree, see LSJ 1535, 5, rather than “for the first time” (Conybeare). Colson has “[f]irst of all,” which defines the meal as the most notable of many (and see his discussion at PLCL 9:522–523). While this expression might usually be understood to read “first” temporally the point being

1 Transl. from Aristobolus, ed. Yarbro Collins; fragments in Eusebius, Praep. ev.

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made here is that the gathering about to be described in detail is of particular significance, and will prove the foregoing statement of § 64, in providing a paradeigma or “example” (see Introduction p. 28) of how to conduct a celebratory meal according to the principles of sacred philosophy. The translation every seventh of seventh days (δι’ ἑπτὰ ἑβδομάδων) is preferred to “after seven weeks,” as Conybeare translates, as if counting from Passover only (which has not been mentioned); Colson has quite rightly translated “after seven sets of seven days,” with the preposition διά indicating the interval between events (and see Colson, PLCL 9:522). It may also be translated “every seven weeks” (e.g., Graffigna 1992, 75, 143), It happens after each set of seven weeks (Nikopowetsky 1996, 212; Taylor 2003, 154–170). There are in fact seven sets of seven weeks within a solar year of 343 days (see Taylor 2003, 164–169), requiring insertions of extra days to fit the normal year of 364/5 days. Here Philo returns to the group’s special honouring of the seventh day that he has referred to in §36, before his long discussion of the example of the Hellenes and their symposia. The special concern with the seventh day points back to Philo’s early description of the Sabbath meetings of the community (§§ 30– 33). On the one hand the group honour the Sabbath as very festive and very sacred, but more than ever they honour the Sabbath of Sabbaths, every seven weeks. The lack of a definite article or specification for this festival seems to indicate it does not correspond to any of the high festivals as such. not only marvelling at the simple Seven but also at the power [of Seven] as they know she is pure and an ever-virgin. We have already had the number 7 introduced in §§ 30, 32 and 36 in regard to the Sabbath meeting. The Therapeutae honour the “power” or “square” of the number 7. The numbers 7 and 72 are celebrated because “she” (the gender being important for the image) is an “ever-virgin.” In QG 2.12 Seven is presented as pure, virginal, unmixed, unmothered, neither born nor giving birth, and therefore similar to the Divine, and is thus “the most sacred number” (QG 4.151). Elsewhere in Philo’s work the number Seven is both a number and a kind of goddess: she is a “virgin,” and also motherless, begotten by the Father directly (Leg. 1.15 cf. Her. 170, 216; Mos. 2.210). Philo thus creates an anthropomorphized image of the Sabbath reminiscent of the Greek conception of the victory goddess Athena, who likewise is created motherless by Zeus and is virginal (cf. Opif. 99–100; Leg. 1.15; Mos. 2.210; Spec. 2.56; Her. 170, 216; Decal. 102; Moehring 1995, 156; Leonhardt-Balzer 2013, 7–8). The purity and “virginity” of the number 7 is that it is a prime number, neither a product or a factor, and therefore it does not have any “intercourse” with other numbers. It is the only prime number within the range 1–10.

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The Sabbath was enormously important for Philo as all Jews (see Weiss 1991). It existed from creation for all people (Opif. 89; Decal. 98), though only after the Exodus did Israel as a nation learn how to date it correctly (Mos. 1.207; 2.263). The number seven represents the proper birthday of the world (Opif. 89; Mos. 1.207; Spec. 2.65), a day of divine light, which is virtue (Leg. 1.16–18; Spec. 2.56– 62), a day of contemplation and the pursuit of wisdom (Decal. 96–101; Opif. 128), for exposition of the law in synagogues (Mos. 2.215–216; Hypoth. 7.12–13; Legat. 156–157; Prob. 80–82; Deus 12; Her. 216; Migr. 28–29; Spec. 2.56–62, see Beckwith 1996, 14–16). Aristobulus, two centuries earlier, had also insisted on the inherent importance of the number 7 and the seventh day, “which might be called first also, as the genesis of light in which all things are contemplated,” since all things in the universe apparently revolve in series of sevens (Frag. 5, Eusebius, Praep. ev. 13:12.9–16). Since the square of 7 (the number 49) is a magnification of the significance of the simple number 7, this means that the “Sabbath of Sabbaths” celebration here is invariably particularly holy, intensifying the ordinary Sabbath. It appears then to be a Sabbath meal which has been given special significance. This does not mean other festivals are disregarded, but only that this particular Sabbath is especially enhanced (contra Taylor 2003, 169–170). Philo himself presents a eulogy to the number Seven in Opif. 89–128, where he uses the same equation as an example of how Seven is the fountain of every figure and every quality (Opif. 97), as also in Spec. 2.58, 176, 211 and Mos. 2.80 (and see discussion in Runia 2001, 260–308; Moehring 1995, 141–176). Seven is also symbolic of the spiritual person, for example in QE 2.46, when Moses is called up to meet God on Sinai. The prophet’s calling marks a second birth of a motherless form, created by the Father of all “in accordance with the evervirginal nature of the Seven,” that is the firstborn “Son,” or Logos (QG 1.4). In Philo’s theory of anthropological origins two original human figures (not one unified androgyne) are suggested on the basis of Gen 1:26–27 and Gen 2:7 (QG 1.4, 8; 2.62; Leg. 1.31–42, 54–55, 88, 90, 92, 94–96; Opif. 69, 76, 134–135, 144; Virt. 203–205; see Hay 2004, 131). The first is spiritual, incorporeal, neither male nor female, and incorruptible by nature (QG 1.8; Opif. 76, 134) which continues as the human mind (Opif. 69). A life according to mind is a life according to the pattern of Moses, who becomes almost incorporeal once he is a prophet (see Winston 1985, 67, n. 28). This connects back with Contempl. 10–13 and 18–20, in that the Therapeutae consider that their mortal life has ended (13).

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She is also the eve of the greatest festival which [the number] Fifty has obtained, most holy and most natural of numbers, from the power of the right-angled triangle The continuation of the feminine personification of the number is vital here, to ensure the subject is the number 49, as defined as the δύναμις (fem) of the number ἑβδομάς (fem.), rather than an “it” of an event. Mathematically, the day of 72, the number 49, is the eve of the 50th day, with 50 being a key number philosophically since it is the sum of the squares of the right-angled triangle, by Pythagoras’s theorem, when the shorter sides measure 3 and 4 units, and the longer side 5. Using the formula that the sum of the square of the two shorter sides of the right-angled triangle is equivalent to the square of the longer side, we get (3×3 = 9) + (4×4 = 16) = 25, equalling the square 5 × 5 = 25, with a total value of all the squares being 50. The number 49 here functions not just mathematically but continues to be personified as an entity in “herself”. In understanding this, it helps to solve the impasse of what kind of festival is being imagined. Conybeare (1895, 337– 338) identified the festival obtained by the number Fifty as being Pentecost, an annual event, and Colson (PLCL 9:152) agrees: “I believe with Conybeare that this refers to the feast of Pentecost” (and see discussion PLCL 9:522–523). So, it is thought that the festive meal of the Therapeutae is the corresponding annual eve of Pentecost. This identification is common (Kraemer 1989, 345), but many other scholars have followed Nikiprowetsky (1996, 207–215) who noted that Philo cannot mean that the festive meal of the Therapeutae is annual, since the expression “every seventh of seventh Days” (δι’ ἑπτὰ ἑβδομάδων) clearly indicates every seven weeks, and is all about special Sabbath meals throughout the year (Daumas and Miquel 1963, 50–51; Graffigna 1992, 75, 143). The solution lies in understanding that Philo is talking about the significance of the holy numbers. Conybeare is surely right that “the greatest festival which (the number) Fifty has obtained” is Pentecost. It is not the greatest of Jewish feasts, and it is never named such in Philo’s writings elsewhere, even though it is commented upon as important (see Decal. 160; Spec. 1.183; 2.176–178, see Colson PLCL 9:523). It is simply the greatest festival associated with the number Fifty. As for 49, it also has a special association with a Jewish festival, namely the Festival of the Sheaf, the day of the ʿomer harvest sacrifice of a sheaf of barley, which takes place on the second day of Passover week (Lev. 23:9–12). In Spec. 2.176 Philo writes that the Festival of the Sheaf is actually an “eve” or “pre-festival” (προέορτος) followed by a “better festival,” namely Pentecost or Shavuot. The 50th day is reckoned from the sheaf offering, by counting seven sevens (Lev. 23:15–16), and so, for Philo, “this then is the prime beauty exhibited by Fifty.” In Philo’s discussion here, there is a note of how Pentecost is connected mathem-

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atically with the right-angled triangle, and this is explained in more detail: the sum of the sides measuring 3, 4 and 5 is 12, which is the number of the zodiac, double the number 6; but 50 is superior to 12 as the second power is superior to the first (Spec. 2.176–178). Pentecost/Shavuot is then the greatest festival for the celebration of the number 50. The Feast of the Sheaf celebrates the number 72 (49), because the Festival of the Sheaf is the “eve” from which 49 (72) is counted, leading to the festival of 50. Philo is emphasizing that Jewish festivals are inherently designed to celebrate holy numbers, in quite a Pythagorean style. He is actually talking about the importance of the numbers 49 and 50, anthropomorphized as holy and heavenly virgins like Athena (Decal. 102; QG 2.12). However, despite this mention of Pentecost, this is not in fact the festive meal being celebrated by the Therapeutae; rather, we have mention of both the Festival of the Sheaf and Pentecost/Shavuot as a kind of aside to note how much Jews value the numbers 49 and 50. The rest of Judaism is being brought in, to link the “us” of Philo’s voice to the specific case of the Therapeutae. While the “eve” of Pentecost only occurs once a year, the focus in Contempl. really is on a recurring series of 49th days, celebrating the key holy and pure character of 72, the Sabbath of Sabbaths, quite apart from any other Jewish festivals. It is an amplification of a Sabbath. In fact, it is likely that the group normally have a Sabbath meal together that has some of the features of this festive dinner, but on this occasion everything is particularly heightened. Philo does not otherwise describe their normal Sabbath dinners, other than to say that they eat nothing costly, but only bread, salt (and sometimes hyssop) and drink only water (§36), which will turn out to be what they eat and drink in their “Super Sabbath” celebration. Interestingly, later in the treatise Philo notes that the Therapeutae greet the day when the sun comes up in communal prayer with outstretched hands (§89), which indicates that the sunrise is understood as a fresh beginning, after which they go back to work. We have already seen that when the sun rises the group then pray that they would have a “bright” day (§ 27). Normally, in the Jewish calendar, a “day” would begin with sunset. Nikiprowetsky (1976, 119–121) observes there is no holiday indicated on the 50th day, meaning it is unlikely to be Pentecost, when work is prohibited (Lev. 23:21). Winston (1981, 320) notes that it is an evening and night celebration on the 49th day, and reflects an ancient (solar) pentecontad calendar, an identification explored in detail by Taylor (2003, 154–170). Colson’s resistance to the implications of his translation, that it would mean that the Therapeutae “discarded the religious calendar of Moses and arranged a new system of festal days” (PLCL 9:522), is not valid, since there is no indication that they rejected any high holidays of the Jewish calendar, only than they particularly celebrated every seventh Sabbath.

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The pentecontad calendar, in which the year is divided into intervals of 7 weeks, was an ancient Jewish calendar no longer followed in Jerusalem (Goudoever 1961, 173–174; Taylor 2003, 154–170), but this was a time in which there was calendrical diversity in Jewish communities, as has been much explored (see Stern 2001 and the review of Gribetz and Kaye 2019, 359–362). The calendar required the insertion of an additional day (the fiftieth) possibly being known as the ʿatzeret (cf. Joel 1:14; 2Kings 10:20), and an additional period at the end, to accommodate it to a solar year of 364 days. The usual Jewish festivals were part of that calendar. Philo’s mention of Pentecost and the Festival of the Sheaf is therefore is an aside—a reflection of how the number 49 creates the eve for the festival of 50 (Pentecost) and is therefore special for this reason—but actually in the case of the Therapeutae what they celebrate every seven weeks a 49th day that is a Sabbath of Sabbath celebration for its own sake. In the Greek text this aside begins quite firmly with the words: ἔστι δὲ προέορτος μεγίστης ἑοπτῆς. The δέ links back to the μέν in τὸ μὲν πρῶτον, “of prime importance,” to create sense of “on the one hand … on the other” which is usually not translated into English, thus really: “She is on the other hand the greatest festival.” In the first part, “on the one hand (μέν),” Philo defines what the Therapeutae do and why they gather every seven weeks, and in the second part, “on the other” (δέ), Philo makes his own observation that the number 49 itself—or rather “herself” in this case in terms of the virgin image—is rendered special because she is the number of the eve festival for the exceptionally special number 50, celebrated at Pentecost. Therefore, in this translation, to capture this, δέ is rendered “also.” which is the origin of the generation of the universe. Philo concludes with his celebration of the number 50. The notion that the whole universe arose out of combining variations of the right-angled triangle is found in Plato’s Timaeus: the constituent parts of the four elements being made out of Platonic solids, the faces of which can be broken down into rightangled triangles of various proportions (Tim. 53a–54b, and see Opif. 97). The mention of the greatest festival for the number 50 here does raise the question of whether in a previous treatise in the sequence in which Contempl. is found there was some explanation of Jewish festivals as celebrating numbers. Otherwise, the audience may wonder what Philo is talking about. Philo may imply that the symbolic and mathematically oriented interpretations of the numbers 49 and 50 which he presents in § 65 come from, or are shared by, the Therapeutae themselves. This, then, is an instance of their allegorical or symbolic interpretation of these numbers, and it is one which Philo himself esteems.

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Peace and Order §§66–67

The next part of the example of the Therapeutae concerns the peace and order they exhibit in their dinners. They are organized, with everyone having a rank within the group. However, Philo now indicates that it is not all the group that recline for a meal, but only the seniors or elders, male and female, while the juniors are the ones who wait on them. The order is maintained by a peculiar kind of ranking that is not dependent on age, but rather on the degree of accomplishment in the sacred philosophy. This festive celebration is underscored by the wearing of white garments, suitable for this occasion, and they begin with a prayer. Detailed Comments (§66) Whenever then they come together This opening harks back to the beginning of the previous paragraph, in that it is describing their festive meals, in which there has been mention of a particular celebration of the 49th day (7×7, Sabbath of Sabbaths). The actual time of the assembly is not given, but since Philo has already stated that both normal and Sabbath day food is taken only after sunset, in the hours of darkness (§§ 34–37) we can assume this to be the case now. Later on Philo will describe an all-night sacred event following the meal, and he makes it clear that the festivity ends at daybreak (§89, cf. §27). That dawn creates an ending, and new beginning of a “day” of work, and one should then assume that prior to this special meal there has been the usual assembly in the “sanctuary” as described in §§ 30–33. Thus the assembly has moved off from this space, where they have already been sitting in order, to the new space where they come to eat. The word “whenever” (ἐπειδὰν) indicates repetition and constancy, and should indicate that this is the norm for all their communal meals. It seems intended that we should turn back here to what has already been described in regard to the Sabbath assemblies. The description of the meals follows on from what Philo has stated. The same verb is used here for the group’s coming together (συνέρχομαι §§30; 32; 66). The place for eating cannot be the same place as where they had been sitting, as the former meeting takes place in a benched room which is divided in two by a small wall (§§ 32–33). Earlier, Philo writes that after the soul has been provided for by listening to this discourse, they provide for the needs of the body (§37). However, at this earlier point we do not get the description of how they assemble to eat. After stating, “I wish also to speak of their common meetings and very cheerful ways of behaving in symposia” (§40) Philo had launched into his long diatribe that is meant to contrast

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the symposia of others. But now we need to bring ourselves back to this point of departure, and thus we are actually brought back to every Sabbath meal, as well as to the very special one celebrated on the Sabbath of Sabbaths, on the 49th day. white-clad, beaming with the utmost dignity It would seem that the Therapeutae put on special white garments for this festal occasion, as this attire is only mentioned now in contrast to their usual simple dress for summer and winter as described in § 38 (see above). Consequently, there is no need for the dividing wall to protect women from the gaze of a male speaker. Thus, all the group would have been wearing appropriate white mantles that provide decent modesty. The wearing of white clothing is a direct contrast to the clothing of the colourful serving boys described in §§51–52 (Tigchelaar 2003, 307 n. 26). While the ostentatious colour and luxury of the Graeco-Egyptian symposia may be designed to impress, the Therapeutae are beaming instead with the utmost “dignity” (σεμνότης). The word σεμνότης and its cognates is a key one used throughout Contempl. and there is no perfect English word that encapsulates all its meanings. It indicates a demeanour of solemnity, dignity, seriousness, holiness and gravitas (LSJ 1591; BDAG 919). The adjective “beaming” (φαιδροί) can be used of a smile, and therefore is made to function in a paradoxical way with “dignity” (σεμνότης), similarly to what we will find the paradox of “sober drunkenness” in § 89. Shininess is a characteristic of clean, bright or white clothing: a linen bussinon, identified as a kind of nuptial robe, is “clean bright” (Rev 19:8; and see McIlraith 1999). Philo elsewhere associates white clothing with purity (Decal. 45; Cher. 95; Legat. 12). It may be noted that the wearing of white clothing on the occasion of a Sabbath meal contrasts the group with the Essenes, who apparently “always wear white garments” which they are given at their initiation (Josephus, B.J. 2.123, 137; see Taylor 2003, 299–301; 2012, 87–88; and see Introduction p. 59). It also contrasts with the Pythagoreans, who were known as wearing white all the time (P.Haun. 2.13; Aelian, Var. hist. 12.32; Iamblichus, Vita Pythag. 100, 149; Apuleius, Apol. 56), and, as Eibert Tigchelaar (2003, 303, n. 12) has explored, there was also an association of Pythagorean dress with clean clothing (Diodorus Siculus, Bibl. 10.9.6; Diogenes Laertius, Lives 8.33; Iamblichus, Vita Pythag. 153, 155). Diogenes Laertius (Lives 8.34) states that the Pythagoreans will not even eat white cocks because they “wear” the clothing of suppliants. White clothing was usually bleached wool, a process done by fullers (Mark 9:3, see Taylor 2003, 296). There was a widespread use of such white clothing for festivals in the ancient world (cf. Ovid, Fast. 1.79; Statius, Silv. 1.2, see Radke

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1936), and thus the mention here of wearing white would create a resonance of this on the part of the hearers/readers. In Judaism there is the understanding that Sabbath clothing should be fresh and clean (b. Shab. 118b–119a) in honour of the holy day. White (normally woollen) clothing was often associated with cleanliness (Zech 3:3–5; Rev 3:4, 18; 4:4; 7:9–14, cf. 6:11), and festal occasions (Josephus, A.J. 2.327). According to Josephus, when David heard that Bathsheba’s child had died he changed from black to white clothing, denoting festivity (A.J. 7.156). Josephus also described how Archelaus has mourned for his father Herod he also changed into white clothing and went to the Temple (B.J. 2.1). In the Mishnah, the daughters of Jerusalem wore white (clean and borrowed clothing) for the 9th and 15th days of Ab (m. Taan. 4:8; see Sanders 1992, 97). White garments could also be associated with priestly dress in the GraecoRoman world, though not in Judaism, where the linen cloth worn by priests was natural and unbleached (Exod 28–29; Lev 6:3 [10]; 16:1–4 and Ezek 44:17–18, see Taylor 2014), except for the High Priest when he enters the Holy of Holies only (Lev 16:4; Somn. 1.217). In the Mishnah, m. Yoma (3:6; 7:1, 4) buts (= byssos, fine linen) garments are distinguished from white worn by the High Priest and in m. Parah 4:1 the priest who burns the red heifer is also dressed in white, distinguished from usual priestly clothing. In the Graeco-Egyptian cult, priests and priestesses wore white during ceremonies. A well-known mural from Pompeii shows priests, priestesses and worshippers within the Isis cult clothed in white (Amery and Curran 2002, 68), which is white linen according to Apuleius’s Metamorphosis (11:9–10). It then seems likely that the Therapeutae wore clean, white clothing as a way of honouring the festal occasion of the Sabbath. It may not have been linen. Nevertheless, Philo himself writes of the benefits of linen in regard to the special clothing of the High Priest and associates it, “when carefully cleaned,” with a “very bright and luminous colour” (Somn. 1.217), though he does not call it white. once one of the “dailies”, as such it is customary to name those in these type of services, gives a sign Philo refers to the people who are in charge of the arrangements as τῶν ἐφημερευτῶν. This hapax legomenon is not too difficult to understand: as Colson identifies it (PLCL 9:153) the word “suggests duties performed in rotation,” and thus renders this: “from a member of the Rota.” Conybeare (1894, 795) chose to transliterate the Greek with an interpretative aside (“i.e. leaders of the ceremonies chosen afresh day by day”), and associated them with the “presidents” (πρόεδροι §§75, 79). Their role here is defined in terms of people engaged “in

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these type of services” (ἐν ταίς τοιαύταις ὑπηρεσίαις), which would indicate a service orientation to their job, and as such they would be the “juniors” who we will meet in due course and the ones serving (§§ 70–72), later on defined as “servers” (διάκονοι §75). Their jobs are otherwise of no interest to Philo, since reporting on their duties would muddy his rhetoric focusing on the contemplative life, but the fact that food has been described as ready for those in huts to eat at the end of a day (§§34–37) already indicates their existence. The bread they eat would have needed to have been baked or brought in. The white, laundered clothing they put on for Sabbath day assemblies (noted at the time of the meal, but not noted for the meeting in the “sanctuary”) would have needed to have been washed by someone. The word “the dailies” (τῶν ἐφημερευτῶν) notes a particular customary use of the term among the group, and is signalled by Philo as unusual. It recalls the daily rostered duties of priests and Levites in the Temple (LXX 1 Chron 23:6; Neh 23:30; 1Esdras 1:16). In Luke (1:5, 8) Zacharias is going about a “daily course” (ἡ ἐφημερία). This language then associates the Therapeutae with cultic things, perhaps with an underlying premise that they follow Moses as a spiritual high priest (e.g., Her. 182; Mos. 2.75). they stand sequentially according to rank, in order, before they recline. The same ordered arrangement indicated in regard to their seating “according to age,” or “sequentially” (καθ’ ἠλικὶαν), to hear the discourse during the daytime of the Sabbath in §30. This order of seating is also indicated by Philo in terms of synagogues in Spec. 2.62. Here this is defined as “according to rank, in order” (κατὰ στοῖχον ἐν κόσμῳ), rather than age exactly. In Ios. 217 Philo uses the expression “according to rank” (κατὰ στοῖχον) to refer to the inspection of Joseph’s brothers’ sacks in order beginning from the eldest, but the assumption here is that age qualifies one to be at a certain rank, thus “age order” is normally implied. However, here this usual concept of rank is redefined in a distinctive way, as Philo will describe in §67; “in order” (ἐν κόσμῳ) is not age order. Mention of the participants being ready to recline indicates that they are about to recline on dining couches, as was common in the Graeco-Roman world. Both their eyes and hands are lifted up to heaven This gives us a prayer posture of raised hands common among Jews of the Second Temple period, and continued in early Christian communities (1 Tim 2:8), as reflected in the common “orant” pose of catacomb art and sarcophagus reliefs. The same prayer pose is adopted in the prayers at sunrise described in

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§ 89 (see further below). This Sabbath prayer before the meal seems to have been an additional prayer to the two prayers at dawn and dusk described in § 27. their eyes since they have been trained to perceive things worthy of sight The lifting of their eyes is related to their eyes having been trained to see God or realities related to God, as indicated in §§2, 11–12, where the perception of Being, or the Existent One, is the goal of their life. In Her. 79 the vision of the seer of God has been trained to look for the manna, or divine word, which is the heavenly food that delights it. In Legat. 5 there are souls whose vision has ascended above created things, “having been trained to see the uncreated and divine, the primal good, beautiful, excellent, and blessed.” The sense of their prayer is that their banquets will be regulated by mind rather than senses or sensual appetites (in sharp contrast to the banquets castigated in §§40–63). It is not a simple prayer of thanks or blessing for the meal to follow. The prayer appears to be communal, as if known and said by all. and their hands, because they are clean of income, are by no account defiled by anything done for profit. Their hands are “clean” of λημμάτων, literally “gains,” and rendered here as “income.” In Spec. 1.280, the word refers to the wages paid to a harlot, which cannot be offered in the Temple (Deut 23:18). They are also clean of “anything done for profit” (τῶν εἰς πορισμὸν: the τῶν refers back to λημμάτων, “gains, income, wages,” but “anything done” is used in the translation here to avoid repetition). It probably implies that hand-washing has been done, since hand-washing is symbolic of the hands having “done no evil” and is linked with prayer (Let. Aris. 305–306, cf. Sib. Or. 3.591–593; 4.163–170; Sir 26:29; Flacc. 121, contra Taylor 2003, 140–142). At this point Philo chooses to emphasize the symbolic concept of purity rather than normative Jewish ritual purity. He continues the symbolism of the Sabbath (of Sabbaths) being particularly pure and virginal (§ 65; cf. Spec. 2.56–62). Hand purity as a sign of innocence is found in Deut 21:6–7; Ps 26:6, 73:13; Sib. Or. 3:573, cf. Matt 27:24 (see Graffigna 1992, 145). In § 17 Philo had explained the Therapeutae’s giving up of their property by arguing that taking care of wealth and possessions consumes previous time, and injustice is bred by anxious thought for the means of life and for money-making. Now in § 66 Philo suggests that money-making is inherently defiling. It is curious that there is no mention of actual hand-washing prior to prayer. Importantly, ritual bodily purity was a feature not only of Judaism but also in of Graeco-Egyptian religion. According to Chaeremon, On the Egyptian Priests

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(Porphyry, Abst. 7:5–7) certain times (7 to 42 days) are prescribed for purifications and fasts with washings of various kinds. It may be that the actual hand-washing was simply not a key concern for Philo in his rhetorical aims. It has to be noted, also, that Philo nowhere prescribes hand-washing prior to eating, though he defines ritual purification as necessary prior to entering the Temple (Spec. 3.89, 205–206), before sacrificing there (Spec. 1.256–266), after sex (Spec. 3.63) and after corpse contact (Spec. 3.205–206). They pray that the festal occasion will be pleasing to God and entered into according to mindfulness. In Philo’s understanding, the word “festival” (ἑορτή) applies to the Sabbath as much as to the high festivals of Judaism. For Philo there are ten “festivals” in total, which he outlines in Spec. 2.41 (see Leonhardt 2001, 24–47): 1. every day (to some degree, see Gribetz 2018); 2. the seventh day; 3.the new moon; 4. Passover, identified as the “crossing” of the Red Sea (ἡ τῶν διαβατηρίων); 5. the Festival of the Sheaf and Pentecost (linked); 6. The Festival of the Unleavened bread; 7. The Feast of Weeks; 8. The first day of each month; 9. The fast day; 10. Tabernacles (Spec. 2.40). Here the word for “festival” is εὐωχία, but note that it has been used in §48 and §56 for a “festal occasion” supposed to be celebrated properly, but clearly not in the symposia of the Graeco-Egyptians. This word shows that the festal occasion of the Sabbath meal as celebrated by the Therapeutae is a complete antithesis to what has been described earlier as symposia for festal occasions. The attitude of the Therapeutae in terms of their aims is that their actions should be κατά νοῦν “according to mind,” which implies a state of mindful awareness or consciousness of Mind as an integral dimension of God, and therefore “mindfulness” seems an appropriate translation. Overall §66 implies a series of fixed customs or rules by which the Therapeutae observe Sabbath—or, in particular, Sabbath of Sabbath—meals: (i) they all change into (clean) white clothing for the occasion (ii) a group of designated “dailies” organizes everything, and is in charge of the meal (iii) the members initially gather together and stand in an orderly way (iv) they all pray with uplifted eyes and hands (v) the content of their opening prayer pertains to the proper conduct of the celebratory meal to follow

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(§67) After the prayers the elders (presbuteroi) recline, following their placements. Prayers are indicated in plural, which probably means that a number of people say them. It is only the elders (or seniors; πρεσβύτεροι) that are said to recline (cf. §75). The juniors we will find referred to later on in §§ 71–72, 75 as diakonoi, “servers” or “waiters” (and they are doubtless the ἐφημερευταί of § 66, just mentioned). The important use of the word “elders,” for those who are senior in terms of their philosophical status rather than age, is a striking parallel to the usage of the Church (see below), where the designation also referred to people who were considered “senior” in ways different to age alone. It is interesting that the term “elders” (πρεσβύτεροι) appears twice in this section, and this alerts us to Philo’s key interest in the seniors of the group overall. The phrase ταῖς εἰσκρίσεσιν ἀκολουθοῦντες is commonly translated as indicating an admission or enrolment into the group (Colson: “the order of their admission”), implying a formal procedure of admission into a sect, but Philo appears to refer back to an ordered arrangement stressed in the previous section, which is maintained as they physically enter a room; “the placements” (ταῖς εἰσκρίσεσιν) constitutes a hapax legomenon in Philo’s extant work, but he uses the verb εἰσκρίνω elsewhere as indicating the mind entering or being placed into the human body: in Leg. 1.32 he refers to mind’s “placement” in the body in the creation of earthly humanity; in Plant. 14 there is a reference to bodiless souls that are said “to enter into mortal bodies”; in Somn. 1.31 it is said that mind “is placed within from outside.” They do not consider as elders those of many years and old In §30 Philo states that they “sit sequentially according to age” (καθ’ ἠλικίαν ἐξῆς καθέζονται) but now he qualifies this statement by indicating that this kind of order is not “age” as would be commonly recognized (though see § 68). Likewise, in §31 Philo has referred to one who is “the most senior” (πρεσβύτατος) and indicated that this is the person who is “most experienced in the doctrines” rather than “the eldest.” He thus pre-empted there what he would say here. In Philo’s work, πρεσβύτεροι can just mean “old people” (e.g., Prob. 87 and Hypoth. 11.13), who are in need of care, but “elders” in terms of senior honour is what is meant here. For “old,” παλαίους, see Textual Note. There is wide attestation of the leadership and legal administration of Jewish communities being under the authority of elders, which has a biblical precedent (e.g., Exod 3:16, 18; 4:29; 12:21; Num11:16–30; Deut 19:12; 21:2–9, 19–20; 22:15–21; 25:7–9; 2Sam 3:17; 5:3; 17:4), with the Hebrew term zeqenim usually translated as πρεσβύτεροι in the LXX. The kind of ordering of seniority by experience and competence rather than by simple age is what was already the norm

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in the administration of synagogues, which were clearly under the authority of the elders, zeqenim, in Greek πρεσβύτεροι. We see this term in the Theodotos inscription from Jerusalem: a reference to the synagogue’s “fathers/parents and the elders” (οἱ πατέρες αύτοῦ καὶ οἱ πρεσβύτεροι, 1st cent. CE, CIJ 1404). Likewise, in terms of the legal school or party of the Essenes, Josephus states that the junior members have to obey the πρεσβύτεροι (B.J. 2.146). Both men and women are included within this designation in Contempl. and Philo will go on to define the women elders more clearly in § 68. Philo would go on to say that they are looked after as “fathers” and “mothers” (§ 75). Bernadette Brooten (1982, 41–56, and see also Brooten 2000) has brought to light inscriptions of “mother of the synagogue,” metersunagoges or mater synagogae, as also presbutera—indicating a female elder with synagogue council, namely Sophia of Gortyn, “elder and head of the synagogue of Kisamos” [Crete], CIJ 731c (4th– 5th cent.); “Rebeka, the elder,” CIJ 692 (Bizye, Thrace, 4th–5th cents.), “Beronikene, elder,” CIJ 581; CIL IX 6226 (Venosa, Apulia, 3rd–6th cent.), “Mannine, elder … [aged] 38 years” (Venosa, Apulia, 3rd–6th cent) CIJ 590; CIL IX 6230; “Faustina elder,” CIJ 597; CIL IX 6209 (Venosa, Apulia, 3rd–6th cent); “Makaria (or: “the blessed”) Mazauzala, elder” SEG 27 (1977), no. 1201 (Oea, Tripolitania); “Here lies Sara Ura, elder,” CIJ 400 (1st cent. BCE–3rd cent. CE) Rome. As Brooten (1982, 45) notes of the latter, the only age given (38 for Mannine) would seem to preclude the meaning of “aged woman,” and the parallel of Sophia Gortyn being “elder” and “head of the synagogue” supports the notion of presbytera being an official title. Thus, the fact that there are women counted as elders/seniors in the community of the Therapeutae is more likely to be a reflection of wider synagogue and community practice than something extremely unusual and any kind of isolated instance. In the Dead Sea Scrolls also zeqenim (m.) are paired with zeqenot (f.) in relation to a sod (council) (4Q502 frag. 19), though here there is a minimizing of the status of the female elders is found in 4QDf (4Q270) frag. 7.13–15: both mothers and fathers of the congregation are held in respect but the mothers are not considered to be of equal authority. There is no reason to read this into what Philo states in Contempl. In terms of parallels in philosophical schools, there is mention by Diogenes Laertius (Lives 181), citing Diocles, that a student of Cleanthes, Chrysippus, sat next to someone defined as “the senior [old?] woman” (ἡ πρεσβύτις) in the school (Taylor 2003, 174, 206). The “elders” were widely understood to be leaders in the early churches (Campbell 1994). The term presbutera is also found in a number of early Christian inscriptions in Greek and Latin, as collected by Ute Eisen (2000, 116–142, and see also Crawford 2003). It appears on a 2nd or 3rd-century Christian

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mummy label from Panopolis, now in the Louvre: “Artemidora [daughter] of Mikkalos, whose mother was Paniskiaine the elder, fallen asleep in the Lord” (Eisen 2000, 125–126; T.Mom.Louvre 1115). Eisen also notes the attestation of women elders in 5th-century Egypt in the Testamentum Domum 1.35 and 2.19. However, in the Synod of Laodicea in 352 CE women elders were banned formally: Item 11: “Presbutides, as they are called, or female presidents, are not to be appointed in the Church … women must not approach the altar.” This epigraphic evidence can be placed within the large body of textual and inscriptional data that testifies to the early church initially replicating the synagogue’s administrative pattern of the leadership of president (variously named) and elders, as James Burtchaell (1992) has argued, with the term presbuteros becoming conceptualized as “priest” only later on in Christian contexts, and indeed etymologically providing the basis for the English word. The presence of women elders/seniors among the Therapeutae has ramifications then for understanding eldership within both wider Second Temple Judaism and the early Church, especially if they might be considered the same as episkopoi, “overseers” (so Merkle 2003). The apostle Paul does not use the term “elders” in any of his undisputed letters, but, according to Acts 14:23, “elders” are appointed during Paul’s first missionary journey in Lystra, Derbe and surrounding region, including Pisidian Antioch: “and when they had appointed elders for them in every church …” This pattern was already established in terms of church organisation, in that Acts 11:30 refers to Barnabas and Paul sending a collection for famine relief to Judaea “to the elders” (cf. Acts 15:2, 4, 6, 22–23). In Acts 16:4 there is reference to elders who were in Jerusalem (as also 21:18). In Acts 20:17 there are elders of the church in Ephesus. The impression we get from Acts then is that churches were, like synagogues, administered by a council of elders, and that the churches replicated that order. In 1Tim 4:14 the body of elders is called a πρεσβυτέριον. 1 Tim 5:1–2 contains a reference to senior men as fathers and senior women as mothers, though here the ambiguity of the term as also indicating someone advanced in age has made interpretations and translations difficult (cf. Titus 2:2–5). In James 5:14 the “elders” (πρεσβύτεροι) pray and heal the sick. In 1Pet 5:1–5 there is an exhortation: “I urge the elders (πρεσβύτεροι) among you as a fellow elder (πρεσβύτερος) myself and a witness to the sufferings of Christ … give a shepherd’s care to the flock of God … not for sordid money … do not lord it over the group in your charge, but be an example for the flock.” Both the second and third letters of John are written as from “the elder” (2John 1 and 3John 1), implying one in authority in a Christian community. In Titus 1:5 with 7 the “overseer” (ἐπίσκοπος) is apparently a presiding elder (cf. 1Tim 3:1–7; Titus 1:7 and 1 Pet 2:25).

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but they are still just like young children if lately they have loved the practice See Textual Note. As previously noted, the Therapeutae are said to follow a “school of thought” (αἴρεσις, §29), and a “practice” (προαίρεσις, §§ 2, 17, 29, 32, 67, 79). While the former may be understood as a philosophical “school,” the latter indicates conduct (see for example Prob. 89). Philo presents a paradoxical situation in which those who are old may be considered children, while younger people could be considered elders, simply on the basis of the length of time they have committed to the practice of this philosophical life. rather the elders are ones who from first youth have put in time and flourished in the contemplative part of philosophy “From first youth” (ἐκ πρώτης ἡλικίας) refers to teenagers rather than babies, while in the assonance-rich phrasing of ἐνηβήσαντας καὶ ἐνακμάσαντας the first word ἐνηβάω refers to spending one’s time in something as a youth (cf. Prob. 15). These people have had access to the contemplative part of philosophy, which implies an educated, and probably elite, environment for study and leisure, which we will find referred to again in §69. It is not said that they joined the ascetic community as young people, since it is assumed that there are only mature adults in this community who have left family and property behind. This reference to young people indicates more likely an Alexandrian milieu in which this kind of Jewish philosophical thought and practice is taught. See the Introduction (pp. 60–65) on the wilder milieu of this philosophical school in Alexandria. the part which is surely the most beautiful and sacred At the end of this section we have another description of the contemplative philosophy pursued by the Therapeutae. It is the most beautiful and most sacred part. Note the use of “beautiful” (καλός) here as in §§ 1 (bis), 8, 16, and 89. It is a key term in Plato’s Symposium, where Socrates is finally presented as a pursuer of the heavenly Idea of the Beautiful and is himself beautiful (despite his ugly or Silenus-like exterior). In Plato’s Theaet. 176 Socrates says “we [philosophers] ought to fly way from earth to heaven as quickly as we can; and to fly away is to become like God, as far as this is possible; and to become like him, is to become holy, just, and wise.”

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Rejection of Pleasure §§68–69

In the next two sections Philo focuses on how his examples reject pleasure, in two ways. In tackling again (as in §§2, 32–33) the issue of there being women in the group he describes, Philo is careful. That Philo brings them into the description at this point, given his emphasis on their rejection of pleasure, means that the audience associates the image of men and women together in a symposium context not with any ribald pleasures of mixed-sex dining but rather with renunciation. The women are defined as mainly being old virgins, who have rejected the pleasure of having their own children. This theme of renunciation continues on through §69, which emphasizes that the men and women are seated apart, a comment immediately followed by mention of the lack of mattresses on the dining couches. While ultimately Philo wishes to stress that the Therapeutae are not as extreme in rejecting pleasure as the Spartans, the impression the audience gets is that they are very austere. There is here once more a link with Chaeremon’s On the Egyptian Priests, where the celibacy of the priests during periods of fasting is mentioned, and their beds are defined as being woven from palm branches (Porphyry, Abst. 4.7). Detailed Comments (§68) Eating together also are women The term “they eat together” (συνεστιῶνται) implies they are part of the company of elders/seniors who eat together, rather than that they eat together in a separate room, which would be common in Hellenistic contexts. This will be made clearer in the ensuing paragraphs, where the women take part in singing and sacred dancing with the men. They may be largely invisible in §§ 21–40, but they are very prominent in §§64–90. It was common for men and women to eat together at a Roman dinner party (convivium) and thus this would strike some note of approval for a Roman audience. who are mostly old virgins As Holger Szesnat (1998a) has explored, the designation “mostly” (πλεῖσται) is a telling one in terms of the slight dissonance between rhetoric and actuality, since Philo is attempting to ensure an image of women who would not be of child-bearing age, and it would probably then be assumed that they would therefore be considered beyond the realm of apparently more desirable younger women. The presentation of any younger virgin woman in a mixed group would have laid the group open to some possible whiff of female immodesty (see Taylor 2003, 249). However, since Philo indicates that the elders are

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not defined according to age, the “mostly” also allows for younger women. It should be remembered that all the reclining group are “elders,” and therefore it would be normally supposed that elder women are older in years: the “mostly” endorses the fact that this is not the case among the Therapeutae (or elsewhere in Jewish synagogue eldership, see above). Philo has just said that the elders are not those old in years, necessarily, but here he defines the women as largely elder. The word used for seniority in the group, “elders” (πρεσβύτεροι), is not the same as the adjective for the women here, which is simply “old” or “aged” in years (γηραιαί, LSJ 348). The “mostly” (πλεῖσται) may well cover both the following adjective and noun, they are both mostly old, and mostly virgins. In fact, the whole group is celibate, and what Philo states about the women’s sexual asceticism applies also to the men of the group. “Mostly” leaves it open as to whether there were some women who were not virgins, but had chosen the celibate lifestyle maintained here. Furthermore, since Philo is only discussing the “elders” (πρεσβύτεροι) who are reclining, it leaves open whether the term πλεῖσται would even be true if the junior members of the group, who are serving, were taken into consideration. The vagueness here allows for the possibility that in the actual group as a whole that Philo describes there were younger women, and also women who were celibate but not virgins (Taylor 2003, 261), women who had had children prior to their arrival in the group (cf. §18): independent women perhaps because they were divorced or widowed (and Philo’s designation of “widows” includes divorced women as well, see Spec. 2.25–31). In Philo’s construction of gender, the female is inferior to the male, as women are inferior to men: “the female is always less and inferior to the male, who has priority”, Fug. 51–52 (see Conway 2016, 480). But virgins are defined as being more masculine than non-virgin women (Mattila 1996a), in that they have let go of the lure of the sense-perceptible (QE 1.7). This makes them honorary men able to live a life of andreia. The metaphorical aspect of virginity is apparent here too. The social difference between the “virgin” and the “woman” is much used by Philo allegorically. Regarding Sarah he writes that ordinary sexual relations (upon marriage) turn virgins into women but when God starts to consort with the soul he turns a woman into a virgin again (Cher. 50; cf. QE 2.3; Somn. 2.185). Miriam is sense-perception made “pure and clean” (Agr. 80), thus also virginal. The soul must be virginal in order to ascend towards God. The feminine soul has to shed sense-perception to become a virgin: a higher spiritual state (Cher. 50; Praem. 159–160), in which, paradoxically, she is also a “mother.”

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guarding the purity [of this state] not by necessity, as some of the priestesses among the Hellenes do, but rather out of free will The pure virginity of the number Seven (§65) is now reflected in the women of this group. Given what has been said (see Introduction pp. 22–31) in terms of the genre of this treatise and its audience, Philo is setting up an example of Jewish excellence superior to what may be presented by the Hellenes of Alexandria, represented by Chaeremon and Apion. Thus, the specific reference to “Hellenes” here identifies his rivals exactly. The Romans themselves are not indicated as opponents, even though Philo must have been familiar with the example of the Vestal Virgins, who were chosen before puberty to maintain the sacred fire of Vesta in the Roman forum, and had to maintain this virginity for thirty years (Beard, North and Price 1998, I, 51–54). The question of whether Roman girls positively aspired to be Vestals, who had enormous status, is not addressed in the literature. Philo’s interest is in combatting any example of virgin priestesses provided by the Hellenes, as Roman examples are not the focus of the “Greek Other” that Philo wishes to present. One may note again the interesting sacerdotal undercurrents here: the women Therapeutae are to be compared with priestesses engaged in cultic duties (cf. §74, see Deutsch 2006). The parallel example appears to be with those who maintained virginity under some kind of duress, or family orders, and therefore Philo is perhaps thinking of young virgins dedicated to the Temple for periods of time up until they are of marriageable age, as with the priestesses of Poseidon at or Artemis Triclaria at Patrae, or the canephoroi of the Athenian procession in honour of Athena, which was replicated in Alexandria for the royal cult of Ptolemaic queens (Pomeroy 1984, 55–59). The model of dedicated young virgins who were temporarily involved in cultic duties until they were married is found widely in the ancient Greek world (see Connelly 2006, 39–41). There are also inspired examples such as the Pythia in Apollo’s sanctuary at Delphi (Plutarch, Def. orac. 51, cf. id. Pyth. orac. 22; Lucian, Astr. 23). Diodorus Siculus (Bibl. 16.26.6) states that virgins had their natural innocence intact like the virgin goddess Artemis (who is a kind of warrior or guardian), and could guard the secrecy of prophetic disclosures. Other Apollo prophetesses are either celibate (Pausanias, Descr. 2.24.1), or virgins (Euripides, Troad. 41–42; Lycophron, Alex. 348–364; Herodotus, Hist. 1.182), as also certain sibyls (Vergil, Aen. 3.443–445; 6.42–45; Ovid, Metam. 14:129–153; Lycophron, Alex. 1278– 1279; Pausanias, Descr. 10.12.6). More relevant is that there were lifelong virgin priestesses of Heracles in Thespiae (Pausanias, Descr. 9.27.6–7; see Evans 2003, 3–4). The concept of “purity” attached to virginity appears in Hellenistic writings, such as Plutarch, Demetr. 23:5. However, the targets could well also be the priestesses of the Egyptian cult (see Introduction, p. 17).

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Because of a craving and passion for Sophia/Wisdom, whom they are eager to live with, The word translated as “craving” (ζῆλος) in other writers can mean “zeal” but for Philo it refers to aspiration, indicating a deep yearning to emulate or undertake. Wisdom/Sophia has already been identified several times as the object of the group’s focus (§§19, 28, 34, 35, 68), but here there is an anthropomorphizing image to create an idea of a life partner, Sophia. Nothing prepares us for this extraordinary image. Intense craving for Sophia and cohabitation is something positive, but this is a union that will not lead to the birth of children, and is set up as the image of an alternate to the craving and passion for a man, with whom the women would have children. An entirely feminine cohabitation is envisaged. A female in body is envisaged as cohabiting with a female dimension of God (Sophia) as two women might choose to cohabit, eschewing having children. As noted above, Philo does not present in his writings a model of free, male same-sex loving sexual relationships, but rather decries pederasty and its attendant abuse, which he considers corrupting of male status and andreia (see §§57–63; Abr. 133–136; Spec. 3:37–39). He also indicates that same-sex sexual relations are contrary to Nature (§59). Here, a loving relationship between free women is presented as a positive model. Love spells from Roman Egypt indicate that women desiring other women was not uncommon in his world (Brooten 1996, 73–112). One needs to be careful when Philo engages in gendered metaphors, nevertheless. Philo can play with sexual motifs in the relationship between the feminine soul and the Father, or the masculine mind and Sophia/Wisdom, in these cases creating noetic unions (see Horsley 1979). Thus, in Fug. 54, Sophia, here defined as the daughter of God (and therefore a feminine dimension of the Logos, the “son” of God), can be a “father” who can sow the seeds of aptness to learn, education, knowledge, good and praiseworthy actions (cf. Deutsch 2006, 294). Sophia herself can be both feminine in herself (like Nature) and masculine as a dimension of God. they have disregarded pleasures connected with a body For “pleasures connected with a body” (περὶ σῶμα ἡδονῶν), the preposition περί with accusative is distinguished from περί with a genitive; it means “about,” “around,” “connected with” (see LSJ 366–367). This phrasing “pleasures connected with a body” picks up Plato (Phaed. 64c–66a), in which Socrates notes that philosophers prepare for death in life by disregarding the pleasures connected with the body: food, drink, sexual acts, nice clothing and shoes and other ornaments. They concentrate instead on the soul. In this case, it may refer to sexual

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pleasure, but may also refer to the pleasures a mother gains in having physical children. These women have chosen to forego such pleasures in order to gain the happiness and spiritual fecundity which result from cohabiting with Wisdom. Ultimately then, their life partner Sophia/Wisdom paradoxically leads them away from bodily pleasures. Celibacy is associated with the inspired state: Philo states that Moses had no dealings with passion after he became a prophet (Mos. 2.68–69, and see further Taylor 1993, 253–255). yearning not for mortal offspring but for immortal Philo affirms a quasi-maternal role for the women elders, and that the “pleasures connected with a body” relate to children. These senior women will soon be said to have the junior members who consider them “mothers,” as the men are considered “fathers,” but here Philo asserts that they also want spiritual children. However, Philo in fact jumps between the actual elder women (and men) and the image of the (feminine) soul producing children. In Fug. 52, Philo states that one should not pay heed to the gender of the names: Sophia, the daughter of God, is Father in sowing and begetting (γεννῶντα) in souls teachability, education, knowledge, wisdom, good and praiseworthy actions. In Praem. 159–160 likewise the soul becomes “mother of a large family” in returning to a virginal state, receives the divine seed, and then produces the perfect children: prudence, courage, temperance, justice, holiness, piety and other virtues and dispositions (see Baer 1970, 51–53). Philo has stated in §§ 13 and 18, with a focus only on the men, that they leave wives and children behind, curiously moving attention away from the women, probably to imply that they have fulfilled their proper duties of procreation (Szesnat 1998a, 197), given that it was the men who were obligated to multiply (Praem. 108–109; Det. 147–148, Spec. 3:32–34, cf. m. Yeb. 6:6), but here the apparently non-procreative women are a signifier for sexuality and the procreation of the soul (for further see Taylor 2003, 248–262; Horsley 1979). which the God-loved soul is able to birth alone by herself, when the mindrays of the Father sew in her that which enables her to see the doctrines of Sophia/Wisdom. While initially playing with this image of the virginal women desiring Sophia (Wisdom), as a woman they wish to live with, Philo then turns to spiritual realities that apply not to the actual older, virginal women of the group alone, in terms of their not marrying, but rather to their virginal souls. This then would apply to all those in the group. In this case the virginal souls are married to the masculine dimension of God, Father, who sows in these souls “mind-rays”

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which allow the souls to see the doctrines of Sophia. The words “noetic rays” (ἀκτῖνας νοητὰς) indicate that God as Father is conceptualized as being full of radiant noetic light that removes darkness, providing the soul with the necessary illumination to see the doctrines (δόγματα) of Sophia/Wisdom which are discerned in the scriptures (§§26, 31, 35). As noted in § 26 Sophia’s doctrines are the doctrines of Mosaic law, as interpreted allegorically. The noetic rays are then both a kind of “seed” planted in the feminine soul and also cognitive illumination. The masculine image of generation is used elsewhere in Philo’s works: in Spec. 2.30 the Logos impregnates the soul with excellent thoughts; in Post. 135 God impregnates “Leah” with the seed of Wisdom and she gives birth to beautiful ideas; in Cher. 42–49 God’s seed is “the seed of happiness” (Horsley 1979, 35–37; Baynes 2002). Sophia/Wisdom (Σ/σοφία) is an enormously important concept for Philo. The word occurs a total of 266 times in Philo’s extant works, and two of its four uses in Contempl. occur in §68; the remaining instances are in §§ 19 and 35, both of which indicate that all Therapeutae pursue it/her. This relates to also the word for “love of Wisdom” itself: philo-sophia, §§ 14, 16, 26, 28, 67, 69, 89. All Therapeutae—not just the women—are devoted to Sophia/Wisdom. In this passage, therefore, Philo passes swiftly from actual women elders who are described as “mostly old virgins,” who cohabit with Sophia/Wisdom like a female life-partner (not then bearing actual children), to an allegorical concept of the virginal, pure soul whose “husband” is the Father implanting mind-rays of illumination. Philo refers to the idea of the soul’s spiritual offspring elsewhere in his work (e.g., in Sacr. 102; Cher. 42–50; Post. 135; Deus 137; Mut. 13–15, 134–135; Congr. 5; Praem. 159–169; see Niehoff 2001, 149, n. 41). This appears to derive from the well-known discussion of “soul-children” as found in Plato’s Symp. 209a–d, in which Diotima tells Socrates that to bear these is better than having physical children, though here the soul-children comprise also Homer and Hesiod, and the law of Lycurgus, and are then literary works. Likewise, in Phaedrus (275d–e) Plato speaks of discourses, written or oral, as children. However, in Symp. 212a– b, Socrates says “the love of the gods belongs to anyone who has given birth to true virtue and nourished it, and if any human being could become immortal, it would be he” (cf. Symp. 208c–d). Thinking along these lines, Philo must imagine the Therapeutae, women and men alike, as bearing spiritual children in the form of virtue as apparent in their personal lives, but also virtue as the laws or style of their communal life, and perhaps also virtue as expressed in discourses oral and written which they produce both together and also while they are apart in their individual studies.

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However, this symbolic discussion of the soul’s productivity takes attention away from the actual women, who are “mostly” virgins who have maintained life-long celibacy. We are not told about the men, but clearly it is presumed that they are also celibate, having left their families behind (§ 18). If Philo had said that women had left children behind, it may well have struck a problematic negative chord: “mostly” buries this possible scenario. The issue of the women in the group shows Philo’s rhetorical skills at work, as he both acknowledges them and also turns them around in order to ensure they are made safe for his audience, avoiding any possible reason to consider them in any way immodest or wayward. There are women in the community, even forming a significant number in the group of elders, but they are not enticing the men into immorality. (§69) The reclining is divided, with men apart on the right and women apart on the left. The dining arrangement for the elders involves two separate zones. The word “apart,” “separately” (χωρὶς, LSJ, 2016) is repeated. In terms of “left” and “right”, one might best presume that from the point of entry into the space of the dining room there was a way in to the left and a way in to the right and women and men would have divided to go to their separate areas, with each their own hierarchy of status. They are on either side of a centrally divided space. It is not the same space as for the Sabbath assemblies to hear a discourse, called a “common sanctuary” which replicates the “sanctuary” of the individual huts, but arranged as a teaching room (see §§32–33). A dining room and a lecture hall were different spaces in antiquity, as today. There were clearly benches in the lecture hall, since here people sit (§33). Although Colson (PLCL 9:155) inserts the term “sit” here in §69 so that his translation reads “the men sit by themselves on the right and the women by themselves on the left,” there is no such word in the Greek text but rather the term is “the reclining” (ἡ κατάκλισις) which indicates the common posture for eating. Overall, the notion of “left” in antiquity was considered as inferior to “right” (see Hay 1973, 52–53). In a 5th-century letter of Sidonius (Ep. 1.11) there is a description of a dinner in which the emperor Marjoran is seated at the extreme right-hand end, with guests seated in descending order of importance along a semi-circular couch: Sidonius was positioned at the extreme left-hand end (Ellis 1997, 50). However, in the first century, dining was often arranged in the pattern of triclinia, with three couches around a central table with the diners lying on their left sides, using their right hands to eat with. This would mean that there were nine diners around one table, three on each long couch. In the case of the couches of the Therapeutae, there were clumped up strewings of

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papyrus creating a rise closer to the table for where the elbows were resting, arranged in hierarchical order. Ordering of reclining was vital in classical banqueting though the order might change depending on the way couches were arranged (see Slater 1991, 122–127). In Roman contexts it would appear that the place of an honoured guest was close to the host with an ordering right to left, or anti-clockwise (Foss 1994). Normally, in a Hellenistic context, men and women would not eat together around a table (Corley 1993, 25–28). Cornelius Nepos (Praef. 6–7) noted that in Greece—unlike in Roman contexts—a woman was not allowed at a dinner party unless relatives only were present. Here, despite the men and women being in the same space, they remain separated, which reflects this Hellenistic pattern informed by concerns for decency and modesty. Do not let anyone at all suppose that mattresses are to be provided See Textual Note. In §49 Philo pointed to the fancy couches of the bad symposia, and noted the many huge couches, and their covers, cushions or mattresses (στρωμναί) that are purple with interwoven gold or brocaded with flowers and colours. He plainly intends a sharp contrast to appear here with what he has described previously. These couches do not even have proper mattresses. if not really expensive ones, but then softer ones for people well-born and refined and trained in philosophy Here there is another indication of the social class of the Therapeutae. They are “well-born” (εὐγενεις) and ἀστεῖοι; the word ἀστεῖος literally means “towny,” but is understood to be “refined.” They are educated, in that they are trained in philosophy. These are well-to-do people one would expect to recline on soft mattresses. While this appears to indicate something about their birth and status, in fact in Mos. 1.18 Philo refers to the infant Moses as “to seem (ὀφθῆναι) as well-born (εὐγενής) and refined (ἀστεῖος)” since Moses was weaned early and advanced beyond his years. This indicates something about a person that might be perceived by others as indicating superiority, and for further see the discussion in Graffigna (1992, 175–182). Actually they are rough beds of very ordinary wood, on which are placed very cheap strewings of papyrus of the locality that are a little clumped up at the elbows so that they can lean By comparison, in §48 Philo is appalled at the ostentatiousness of the couches in the bad symposia. Here Philo speaks of simple beds or couches (στιβάδες, cf. Plato, Resp. 372b; Plutarch, Lyc. 16), rather than elegant τρίκλινα made of valuable wood, inlaid with precious stones.

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The local papyrus is mentioned here and it connects the site of the Therapeutae with Lake Mareotis, in which there was (and is) papyrus grown in the marshes (Strabo, Geogr. 17.1.15, and see Taylor 2003, 81). “Strewings” translates χαμαίστρωτον, a rare word found only in Philo; it appears also in Spec. 2.20 as “strewings” (of papyrus) and Flacc. 37 as “spreading.” In Spec. 2.20 the reference is to the beds of those who live a life of austerity within the city, and sleep on such strewings (see Introduction pp. 60–65). for they slightly relax the Laconian tough lifestyle The celebrated Laconian “tough lifestyle” (σκληραγωγία) is not very relaxed here, by most people’s standards, but Philo wishes to insist that the Therapeutae are actually quite moderate. They do not create hardship for themselves; they live very simply. There is a certain irony about presenting such an image of extremely rough couches, only to say that the group has mitigated the austerity of the Laconians (Spartans, Lacedemonians), whose reputation for following the austere laws of Lycurgus (cf. Prob. 47, 114), made them renowned as models of asceticism at the time of Philo, and also a model of “manliness” (ὰνδρεία, see Mason 2007). The Therapeutae’s mitigation or relaxing of this is only in the fact that they build up mounds of papyrus to create a comfortable leaning platform for their elbows. always and everywhere they make free contentment their business, opposing with strength the love-charms of pleasure. The main evil they resist is pleasure (§§2, 58, 68–69) with its “love-charms,” behaving like a seductress. The word φίλτρον is used elsewhere not infrequently in Philo’s works to refer to the kinds of lures that will distract the mind or soul (e.g., Opif. 165; Post. 135; Gig. 44; Deus 170). Love charms have been found among Egyptian papyri from the Hellenistic and Roman era (e.g., PGM IV 269–433; P. Mich. 757), and Philo was undoubtedly familiar with their use. Philo has written earlier of the love between human beings with a kind of disparaging sense of it as a madness (§59). The Therapeutae, however, practice a wholly admirable love of God; and for Philo that brings a happiness totally at odds with “pleasure,” which, as elsewhere, seems to connote sensual satisfactions which distract and debase the soul that gives way to them. At the end of §69 is the idea of “free contentment” (εὐκολία), which will be developed in relation to the Therapeutae’s repudiation of slavery in §§ 70– 72. Whereas Philo will proceed to describe how the servants or servers at the Therapeutae banquets are not really slaves, in § 69 the point is that all the Therapeutae are “free” spiritually in the sense that they do not allow themselves to be enslaved by craving more than their frugality allows. The impression of

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free contentment, however, given the austerity that Philo describes here, would have been curious to the audience.

D

Equality §§70–72

Whereas in §69 Philo had spoken metaphorically of slavery, meaning slavery to pleasure, which the Therapeutae overcome by means of their simple lifestyle, now in §§70–72 he goes on to insist that there are no literal slaves among the community. There are servers at the symposium, but these are free persons: the juniors of the group who serve the seniors. The fact that they do not have slaves is no accident. They are fundamentally opposed to the concept of slavery. Detailed Comments (§70) They are not served by slaves, considering the possession of servants to be in general against Nature; for she has given birth to all free The Therapeutae consider slavery “utterly against Nature.” This correlates also with Roman Stoic teachings (Seneca, Ep. 47). Philo seems to be asserting one of the fundamental beliefs of the group. The Therapeutae believe all persons are or should be free, in accordance with Nature. With this we may compare Philo’s report about the Essenes (Prob. 79): “There is not one slave among them, but all are free, tending to each other’s human needs. They denounce the masters, not only as unrighteous in outraging equality, but also for impiety in annulling the statute of Nature, who as mother has birthed and reared all alike, and created genuine siblings, not just in name, but in actual substance.” He notes the lack of Essene slave ownership (along with other personal possessions) also in Hypoth. 11.4. Josephus too notes that the Essenes eschew slavery (A.J. 18.21). The ideal of a slaveless society was found in Iambulus’s utopian fantasy of the Islands of the Sun (Diodorus Siculus, Bibl. 2.58.1). but the vices and greeds of some who crave the source of evil, inequality, have imposed a yoke, and have fastened to the more powerful the strength over those who are weaker. Philo presents this as a view of the Therapeutae, who attribute slave-holding to human evil, which fosters inequality and the oppression of the weak: the result of vices and greeds that have “imposed a yoke” (καταζεύξασαι). The same idea is also found in Prob. 79, where it is said that the law of Nature has been confounded by “the triumph of evil greed, that has made estrangement instead of

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affinity and enmity instead of friendship.” Philo uses considerable irony in Prob. because here the vices and greeds of people cause slavery, but in fact in Prob. 13 the vices and passions of human beings render them slaves: this entire treatise is concerned with the first part of the Stoic paradox, “Every good person is free, every bad person is a slave” (cf. Cicero, Parad. 33–41). In both what he writes of the Essenes in Prob. and the Therapeutae in Contempl. Philo says the group in view (Therapeutae or Essenes) oppose slavery in principle and have no slaves. They oppose it because it violates Nature and promotes inequality. The source of the practice of slavery is found in human greed and injustice. This represents the very views of people Aristotle argues against in his Politics (1253b–1255b); Aristotle stated instead that Nature dictated that there were “natural” inferiorities of people that justified slavery (Garnsey 1996, 76–77). Previously, in his Allegorical Commentary, Philo himself seems to have followed the Aristotelian view: in the story of Jacob and Esau, when Esau is made to be a slave (Gen 27:40), Philo understood these as representing parts of the soul that were naturally free and naturally servile, since all that is base and irrational is by nature servile (Leg. 3.88). He uses the idea of people being naturally servile to present his allegorical reading of Jacob and Esau (Virt. 209). He can even recommend that slaves will profit by being intimidated by their masters (Deus 64; Sobr. 69, see Garnsey 1996, 157–172). In speaking of the Essenes, Philo reports that their hatred of slavery enhances their sense of kinship, whereas slavery leads to alienation (presumably especially between slaves and their masters). In the passage in Contempl., Philo turns from speaking of slavery as promoting inequality and injustice to going on to say that the serving young member of the society regard the seniors as their true parents. Clearly here there is no alienation but quite the reverse. Philo seems clearly to be reporting the views of the two groups themselves, and their reasons for rejecting slavery are virtually identical. What is different about the Therapeutae, in contrast to the Essenes, is that the Therapeutae elders have people who do the work of waiting slaves at the symposium: the junior members of their own group. These young people, however, serve willingly, not under any compulsion. Graffigna (1992, 150) notes rightly that the term “Therapeutae” would itself indicate a service to God, so to have slaves within a group dedicated to service themselves would be inconsistent. Philo’s critique of slavery is hard to find elsewhere in philosophical writings so definitively stated. Zeno is said to have advocated equal education for slaves and free, men and women, but not to have argued against slavery as such (Sextus Empiricus, Pyr. 3.245; Math. 9.190, Diogenes Laertius, Lives 7.12). As noted, however, Aristotle’s mysterious opponents indicated that slavery was against Nature, which shows that the view was mooted already in the 4th century BCE.

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Graffigna (1992, 149–150) cites the Stoic fragments to show that there was a view that slavery was indeed against Nature (Stoicorum veterum fragmenta, ed. Von Arnim III: 352, 359), and Philo was clearly trying to appeal to a view among his audience; as represented by Seneca (Ep. 47)). However, despite representing the views of the Therapeutae and the Essenes as admirable, Philo ultimately fought shy of denouncing the institution of slavery as completely against Nature, perhaps because he needed to justify slavery as found in the law of Moses. We find him, by the time he wrote the Special Laws (post-Rome), trying to have it both ways. In Spec. he states that “no one is by Nature a slave” (2.69; 3.137), but he endorses what is written of slaves in Exod 21:1–6; Lev 25:44–46 (Spec. 1.50–53) since slave service was essential (Spec. 2.123). Ultimately, as an elite member of society, his acceptance of the institution was pragmatic. He could not perhaps imagine his normal life without its maintenance by slaves. Nevertheless, Philo also held that on Sabbath days no one should be served by household slaves, and the symposium of the Therapeutae is a Sabbath meal, in which there should then be no slaves doing the serving (Spec. 2.59, 67), for they deserve rest (Praem. 153–155). This gives us another indication that the Therapeutae do what all Jews do on the Sabbath all the time; the contemplative day of the Jews has become the contemplative life of the Therapeutae. They are different to what Philo himself considers appropriate, for himself, and much more extreme. (§71) In this sacred symposium, then Now we are to understand this dinner as “sacred” (ἱερός). The adjective ἱερός is also much used in this treatise (§§2, 25, 26, 28, 64, 71, 75, 78, 81, 83) to refer to the sacred space where the Therapeutae study and meditate (§ 25), as well as the sacred vestibule of the Temple (§81), the sacred event (§ 83), the sacred philosophy (§26) and sacred Scripture (§§2, 28, 64, 75, 78). This dinner is sacred because it is dedicated to the most holy number Seven (§ 65), the Sabbath festive event. The word συμπόσιον occurs 12 times in Contempl. (40 [×2], 42, 44, 48, 57 [×2], 64, 71, 73. 83, 89), and conduct at symposia is clearly a principal theme. In referring to “this” sacred symposium, it may indicate that Philo’s opposition had presented a model of a sacred symposium of Egyptian priests during their times of holiness, because in Chaeremon’s work there was a significant section on how they did not at this time eat bread, meat or eggs, vegetables and pulses and ate only a limited range of food or drink produced in Egypt (Porphyry, Abst. 4.7.1–6)

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there is no slave, as I said: free people serve Philo emphasizes the point, which would have created the image of a striking curiosity in societies where slaves normally performed these services, and he has already indicated that these people are well born (§ 69), yet here there are some performing the job of menial servants. Note here the expression “as I have said” (ὡς ἔφην), suggests an oral delivery of the discourse. fulfilling the table-service requirements not under compulsion or waiting for orders, but anticipating the requests, The expression “the table-service requirements” (τὰς διακονικὰς χρείας) harks back to the adjective “table-service” (διακονικός) found previously in § 50, to refer to the “table-service slaves” (διακονικὰ ἀνδραπόδα). Philo continues the contrast with this previous discussion on the types of “waiters” (pretty slaveboys) used in bad symposia. Among the Therapeutae there is no abuse of the young. The waiters are not lowly. Everything about this description is set up as an antithesis of the depraved banquets he has described. The verb “wait [on tables]” or “serve” (διακονέω) has just been found in § 70. The concentration of these words in §§70–71 emphasizes the subject of “waiting” on tables is essentially construed as being the job of slaves, but here the specific action of service is referred to. These words anticipate the peculiar use of the designation diakonoi (διάκονοι) as meaning “waiters”: those who undertake the services of waiting on tables without being slaves themselves. In Flacc. 113 “table-service” (διακονικός), as an adjective, is directly associated with the activities of slaves who have come with Flaccus to the dinner party and seem to be therefore installed to provide additional table help as waiters. They are thus “the table-service slaves” (τῶν διακονικῶν ἀνδραπόδων). Some ten to fifteen of were brought by Flaccus and to the dining room to perform their duties at the house of Stephanio, a freedman of Tiberius, where Flaccus was being entertained. This runs counter to what has been argued by John N. Collins (1990), who suggested that the word diakonos can indicate a commissioned role indicating a certain status. This is not how the word is found either in Philo or in Josephus. Josephus, for example, states of the Essenes: They do not lead wives or place slaves into their (shared) possessions, since the latter would contribute to injustice and the former would make a cause of dissension, but they exist by (rendering) service (διακονία) themselves, providing for one another Antiquities 18:21

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Here then the Essenes take on the normal diakonia of women and slaves, doing it for each other, in practical ways. This indicates a broader role than just waiting on tables, but it remains menial and practical. Such service could also be provided by disciples for their teachers: Josephus states that Elisha was the “disciple and server” (μαθητής καὶ διάκονος) of Elijah (A.J. 8.354, cf. 9.28, 33). Service (care, daily maintenance, serving of food) rendered to a teacher is what was expected as part of a subservient disciple status. Likewise, the term’s linkage with serving food and providing care seems also quite clear. In Mark the angels “serve” Jesus food after his temptation in the wilderness (1:13), and Peter’s mother-in-law also serves Jesus, Peter and Andrew (1:29–31). In Mark 10:44–45 serving is what Jesus does. He does feed people food, in the repetition of the miraculous feeding of the 5000 (6:30–44) and 4000 (8:1–10), but in the Gospels diakonia is used similarly to Josephus to indicate wider concepts of care and responsibility. Thus, when we read that the “many” women at the cross “serve” Jesus (15:41), their service is likely to be more than serving food. Such service is invariably what is done by people of low status. So Jesus says to “the Twelve”: “If anyone wants to be first, they shall be the last of everyone, and server (διάκονος) of everyone” (Mark 9:35), and: “Whoever wants to be great among you will be your server” (10:43, parr. Matt. 20:26–27; Luke 22:26). In a story in Luke 12:37, there are slaves who stay awake and alert when a master returns from a wedding feast. The master hitches up his tunic like a tableserving slave, they recline and he serves them. by free will, with enthusiasm and eagerness. Philo has used a similar expression already in §68, “out of free will” (καθ’ ἑκούσιον γνώμην) and in §13 “with free will” (ἑκουσίῳ γνώμη): the free choice involved in embracing this lifestyle, or any aspect of the practice of this philosophy, is important to stress. In choosing the word ἐθελούσιος rather than ἑκούσιος here for “free”, Philo seems to be reflecting the sound of ἐλεύθεροι, “free people,” creating an aural emphasis on the freedom of the persons involved in the servicing. In the vocalization of this section the repeated assonance of the words beginning with ἐ may be noted. Here Philo presents the notion that individuals do have free will to choose between the wrong and right way of behaving. In QG 1.21 Philo states that God gave mind to humanity which allowed then voluntary actions, “thus confounding those who say that all things exist by necessity” (Marcus PLCL 11:13). The question of human free will in relation to fate was discussed in philosophical circles. Cicero (Fat. 39–43) provides the two extremes of determinism, ascribed to Democritus, Heraclitus, Empedocles and Aristotle, and free will (Epicurean) before endorsing the moderating Stoic position of Chrysippus. Philo follows the

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same Stoic pattern of compatibilism, and appears to disagree with the position of the Essenes who, according to Josephus, considered everything to be set by God: “the Essenes declare Destiny the mistress of everything, and nothing happens to human beings that is not by her vote” (A.J. 13.172–173, cf. 18.18). Josephus aligns the Sadducees with the Epicureans: “they remove Destiny and assert that human beings have free will,” while he aligns the Pharisees with the Stoics in stating that they hold “that some but not all actions are the work of Destiny, and some of them are in our own power; they are subject to Destiny, but are not caused by Destiny.” Philo appears to be aligned with the Pharisees here. (§72) For not just any free persons are selected for these services, but the juniors of those in the company, being chosen with all care on merit The words “in the company” (ἐν τῳ συστήματι) are important as an indication of how Philo himself defines the group in question, though the word σύστημα in Philo is never used elsewhere in this sense of a community or company (cf. LSJ 1735, whereas in Josephus, C. Ap. 1.32 it means a Jewish community outside Judaea). The basic meaning concerns things being brought together into a single composition. In Opif. 48 Philo uses this word to refer to musical concord, and in Spec. 1.342 it is one of the elements of music. It refers to a basic constitution or composition of something in Leg. 1.2, 3.163, Post. 164, Migr. 104; Congr. 141; Mut. 150; Somn. 1.86; Aet. 4; Deus 113, and in Deus 157 in plural it refers to the collected waters of Gen. 1:9. Thus we can translate it here in the sense of constitution or composition of different persons, and as such a company. That people are “in” it indicates a substantive sense. The total group here then contains both elders and juniors, but throughout this treatise we seem to be directed to consider only the elders, who live an extremely ascetic and devoted meditative life. The juniors are ignored except when they are needed for service at the symposium. In terms of aurality, the term “free persons” (οἱ ἐλεύθεροι) continues the epsilon sounds of the previous section and emphasizes the free status of those serving. The alliterative phrasing in “they happen to be selected” (τυχόντες … τάττονται) indicates a selection process, but we do not know who does this, or how the selection is done. This comment regarding juniors seems to suggest that there were a number of those classified as such and that some were selected for table services on a dinner occasion. Presumably there are other juniors who were making the bread, and fetching the water and hyssop, heating the water, and so on, in the kitchen area of this residence. What is interesting is that the duty of waiting on tables is given on the basis of merit (ἀριστίδην) not by lot, which was the means by which priests were chosen in the Temple for duties.

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which method is necessary for refined and well-born people who are pressing on towards the peak of virtue The terms “refined and well-born people” (ἀστείος καὶ εὐγενεις) have already been used just beforehand in §69 to refer to the senior members of the group, the elders who are reclining, who are “well-born and refined and trained in philosophy” (see above), who recline on rough dining couches. Now these terms are used also of the juniors who are waiting on tables. For the term “refined” (ἀστείος) see in particular the appendix in Graffigna (1992, 175–182). Daumas and Miquel (1963, 133) note how these qualities differentiate the people in question from the rustic people, and associate them with virtue. Indeed, the word “virtue” (ἀρετή) is sounded here, just at the point Philo is describing this circumstance. It occurs at this key point, linking with the very beginning and the end of the treatise (§1 and §90). Given the manuscript title that indicates this was believed to have been the fourth part of a larger work, On Virtues (see Introduction pp. 32–33) the inclusion of this word in a central part of the description of the Therapeutae is significant. These, who are just like genuine children, are glad earnestly to assist fathers and mothers, considering them their parents in common closer than those of blood For “genuine” (γνήσιος) see Colson (PLCL 9:60, 156) who notes parallels in Prob. 87, Legat. 62, 71 and Spec. 4:184: the term refers to the genuine children of parents. We find here that the seniors/elders are conceptualized as father and mothers of the juniors (who must also be male and female for the possibility of their aspiring to eldership). Real parents are not so close. As already indicated, the seniors/elders are comprised by a group of men and women who recline for the symposium while juniors serve them, as if this is a family situation in which younger members of the family look after the older ones. However, we must remember that Philo notes that the “children” of this group may not in fact be young; someone old may still be understood as a “child” if s/he had only recently come to this lifestyle (Contempl. 67). This would make the situation peculiar to an observer, seeing that younger people (male and female) may have been reclining while older ones in years serve them. The specific identification of the elder men and women as fathers and mothers is important as a status indicator, reflecting a concept of a partnered authority within the Jewish household (Deut 5:16; Exod 20:12, cf. Lev 19:3; Exod 21:15, 17). Two passages in Proverbs (1:8 and 6:20) exhort children to listen and adhere to the teaching of both father and mother. There is also Deborah, called “Mother in Israel,” designating her divinely ordained leadership of the nation

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(Judg 5:7). The titles “father of the synagogue” (e.g., CIJ 1.88, 93, 319, 494, 508, 509, 510, 533, 535, 537, 645, 646, 694, 720, 739) and “mother of the synagogue” (e.g., CIJ 1.496; 523; 606; 639) provide additional evidence of these designations (Brooten 1982, 63–70), our English word “patron” retaining the link between sponsorship and fatherhood (Burtchaell 1992, 249–251). In the Dead Sea Scrolls the reference to “mothers of the congregation” (4Q270.7.i.14) probably indicates women elders, since they have a clear role in the congregation that can be complained about. This, along with 4Q270, mentioning male and female elders, would suggest that there was an accepted patterning of male and female seniors/elders within communities guided by Essene legal rulings (see Wassen 2005, 186–196; Crawford 2003, 181–183). Wassen (2005, 196) concludes from her examination of such passages: “The titles Mothers and Fathers suggest that the holders were viewed as fatherly and motherly protectors within the community, where they held a high authority.” Such wide-ranging evidence then would suggest that this is indicative of widespread Jewish usage in the preRabbinic era. In terms of the “fictive kinship group” of early Christian communities, it is clear that they saw each other collectively as brothers and sisters with God as divine Father, and thus a group of siblings (1 Pet 2:17; 5:9), a self-conceptualization noted also in Lucian’s The Passing of Peregrinus 13. Paternal authority or honorific respect of someone on earth was apparently not accepted by Jesus: “Call no one on earth ‘father’” (Matt 23:9). In Mark 3:35 Jesus states that anyone who does the will of God is his brother, sister or mother. This has resonances within Stoicism: Epictetus (Diss. 3:3:5) states: “That is why the good is preferred above every form of kinship. My father is nothing to me, but only the good” (quoted in Winston 1981, 320). However, the Christian emphasis on the fatherhood of God creates a slightly problematic situation in terms of the alternative fatherhoods provided within the churches; it clearly does not mean men cannot be designated as fathers; in fact, because Paul himself was quite willing to take this designation, and refer to his disciples as his children (e.g., 1 Cor 4:15). In Contempl. there is a sense of the seniors/elders being parents and the juniors being children, with no middle ground defined. This fits with the concepts in philosophical schools in which a teacher would be considered to be “father” to his disciples (Epictetus, Diss. 3.22.81–82 and other examples given in BDAG 786: πατήρ 3). The “fathers” and “mothers” of the juniors in this philosophical group of the Therapeutae would then have been looked up to for their philosophical excellence, example and authority, which probably included the teaching of the juniors, male and female. Here, by regarding the seniors as their mothers and fathers in common, these juniors also echo one of the themes in Plato’s Republic: the whole community is

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like a family, though for Plato this was more of a masculine construct, involving a shared “community of wives” (Resp. 423e; 457d; 458c–d; 460b–d; 540, 543). since of course there is nothing closer than perfect goodness for those who think well. The term “perfect goodness” (καλοκἀγαθία) is a technical one in Graeco-Roman philosophy indicating the perfect state of goodness in conduct, a high excellence that comprises also an admirable, noble, moral and decent quality appropriate to leaders (cf. Xenophon, Mem. 1.2.23; 1.6.14). The term occurs 77 times in Philo’s extant works and is found at the end of the treatise as being that which the Therapeutae are concerned with (§90), as also “virtue” (ἀρετή). Philo defines the Essenes as exhibiting this quality of “perfect goodness” (καλοκἀγαθία; Prob. 75, 91), and it is clearly one of his most complimentary terms. In Prob. 71–72 its opposite is a moral deficiency exhibited by rich, distinguished, pleasure-seeking people; while καλοκἀγαθία is exhibited by the wise sages (cf. Prob. 62). Flaccus at first indicated he had all the traits of καλοκἀγαθία: he was prudent, persevering, understanding and insightful (see van der Horst 2003, 92–93). The term is often used in describing great heroes of the biblical tradition (Runia 1997, 9–12; van der Horst 2003, 92–93). They enter ungirt and let their tunics hang loose As with §30 there is an interest in the clothing of the group, this time in reference to the junior members, who are distinguished completely from the appearance of the boy slaves of the bad symposia. They are “ungirt.” It was apparently customary for male slaves to gird their loins, in that they would tie up their tunics in some way that tucked them into a belt or wound as girdles (cf. Luke 17:8) when serving tables. Any workman or soldier would do likewise (cf. Eph 6:14). An example of such slaves wearing precisely what is indicated here may be seen in a late 2nd-century mosaic from Carthage, now in the Louvre-Lens Museum in Calais (MNC 1577; Galerie des Temps 69): one of the five young men depicted has tied up his tunic as a kind of girdle so that his legs are exposed. The focus here seems to be on the male juniors, since it does not seem likely that the female juniors (serving the women?) are of concern to Philo; the contrast is between the male juniors serving here and the male slaves of the bad symposia. A slave would normally wear a short tunic, and Cato, Agr. 59, gives the length of 3 and a half feet. In this case Philo uses a word we might actually translate as “mini-tunic” (χιτωνίσκος) the diminutive form of the word “tunic” (χιτῶν). The tunic hangs down rather than being tied up, as would be normal for free men who are not manual workers, shepherds, fishermen or

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slaves. He has used this word in §51 to refer to the short tunics of the slave boys who are described as creating folds in their garments and tucks. In contrast, these male juniors who serve in the good symposium of the Therapeutae have completely plain clothing. It may be noted that Philo also uses this word “minitunic” (χιτωνίσκος) to describe the short tunics worn by the priests serving in the Temple, which enables them to move quickly around this area; however, there are breeches to cover their upper legs to avoid any indiscretion (Spec. 1.83; and for discussion of priestly clothing see Taylor 2014). so in serving there is no image to suggest an appearance of a slave The interest in how the male juniors appear seems to indicate an observation based on what Philo has seen himself in the male part of the dining room. They do not look like slaves, and act instead like children looking after the needs of parents.

E

Sobriety §§73–74

Philo now turns to the question of drink and counters the image of the bad symposia, in which the participants are depicted as utterly drunk, with the image he provides of the Therapeutae, who are absolutely sober. This passage picks up on what has already been stated in §37, and there is considerable repetition of what was said there. Notably, these two sections strongly overlap with what Chaeremon states regarding the Egyptian priests (Porphyry, Abst. 4:6). Detailed Comments (§73) Into this symposium on those days This expression “on those days” (ἐκείναις ταῖς ἡμέραις) is meant to refer to the special festive days of celebrating Seven (the Sabbath of Sabbaths), honoured by the group. See §36 and §65. For the designation of this meal as a sacred symposium, see above §71. and I know that some people will laugh when they hear this, but those who laugh are doing things worthy of tears and lamentation Before he goes on to describe what the Therapeutae do, Philo makes an aside to say some people will laugh. Winston (1981, 320) and Daumas and Miquel (1963, 134) identify this as a rhetorical device in Philo (found in QG 4:168 and Ios. 125). This device creates an idea of an audience, and one that includes people who are not on Philo’s side. However, it may also indicate an actual audience. The

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language of aurality indicates that the treatise was meant to be read out to an audience who will hear and, perhaps, laugh. Philo again inserts himself into the text as the speaker. Philo knows some persons who will ridicule the diet of the Therapeutae. But he adds quickly that these are the same people whose actions call for tears and sorrow. Their laughter is frivolous. Their own conduct is worse than ridiculous; it is destructive. Philo wants his listeners to recall the careless and greedy banqueters who luxuriate in a cornucopia of rich fare (§§ 53–56). He concluded § 56 with the comment that “one may pray about things most abominable— hunger and thirst—rather than the plentiful abundance of foods and drinks in feasts such as these.” Now he says that the critics of the Therapeutae should be the object of criticism to the point of lamentation. Their actions are deplorable, in behaving like those partaking in the bad symposia of §§ 44–63. wine is not brought Philo now discusses what is brought into the dining room here, also defined as a συμπόσιον (cf. § 83, see Taylor 2003, 282–287). In § 83 we will see that there is a “middle” of this space, which seems to lie between the dining area for men and the area for women. Perhaps there were screens for when the actual dining was taking place, which would then be removed, though it is interesting that Philo does not mention such. However, this is clearly not the same assembly place as the “sanctuary” (σεμνεῖον) described in §32, where the group (seniors/elders and juniors, presumably) all sit together to hear an instruction on Sabbath days. The dining room and the sanctuary are two distinct spaces, defined by different terms, and the wall of the latter is fixed. Wine was commonly associated with a festive meal in antiquity, and the fear that wine might run out for a festivity informs the story of the miracle of the turning of water into wine in John 2:1–11. An ideal of always abstaining from wine is not often found, though Iamblichus has followers of Pythagoras abstaining from wine during the day, drinking wine only at night (Vita Pythag. 97–98), and Pythagoras expects abstinence from the most contemplative philosophers (Vita Pythag. 109, see below). but rather clearest water The “clearest water,” διαυγέστατον ὕδωρ, is contrasted with the wine referred to in §45 that acts like the drug mandrake. The clearest water is what is referred to in §37 as “spring water” (ὕδωρ ναματιαῖον). What Philo has said earlier of the food and drink of the group is repeated here, but now with special concern to contrast it with what he has stated of the excesses of the bad symposia. The reference to “clearest” water is interesting given alchemical treatises refer to a

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device associated with a Jewish woman of Alexandria named Miriam/Maria; this balneum Mariae was designed to distil water and other liquids to create “divine water” (Lindsay 1970, 240–252). The 4th-century alchemist Zosimos identifies her as being Miriam, the sister of Moses (see Patai 1994, 81–91) who will curiously appear later in the treatise at §87. In “Miriam’s” three alchemical/mystical writings, water seems to have been of special interest, and she associates water with the soul (Lindsay 1970, 249, see Taylor 2003, 337). cold for the majority, warm for the more delicate of the older elders This water is served warm for those among the elders who are more delicate (ἁβροδιαίτοις). It was already used to describe those in § 37 who prepared hyssop with their salts (οἱ ἁβροδίαιτοι). That cold water could be harsher and lead to various medical ailments is found in the Hippocratic text, On Airs, Waters and Places 4, especially so for city inhabitants exposed to cold winds; an ideal spring produces water that is moderately between hot and cold. Diogenes Laertius describes the Cynic view of food as being: “They also hold that we should live frugally, eating food for nourishment only … some at all events take vegetables and cold water only” (Lives 6.9; as also Ps.-Lucian, Cyn. 5). Note here again the reference to the elders, but here there is a superlative form (πρεσβυτάτων) translated here as the “older elders.” Here Philo does indicate age in years, when he has previously stated that being an elder does not correlate to actual age (§ 67), and it is important to remember there are both men and women here; in this case the warm water is associated with bodily delicacy of those who are truly aged. and a table free of meats. On this [table] for food there are loaves of bread and an accompaniment of salts, with which there is sometimes hyssop seasoning prepared, because of the daintier ones. This is a single table, and there are not multiple tables delivered to the diners. There is a strong Temple association here which will be explored in § 81, where it is explicitly said that the table on which there is the leavened bread with salt mixed with hyssop is recalling the holy table of shewbread in the Temple, and yet not replicating it. The Sabbath spread of bread and salts mixed with hyssop has already been mentioned in §37, and will appear in §81. The Egyptian priests described by Chaeremon likewise used hyssop with their bread (Porphyry, Abst. 4.6.9) to eliminate most of its “force”. The term “the daintier ones” (τοὺς τρυφῶντας) connects with the “delicate” people who need special care in having warm water, and has a feminine association when Philo uses the term of people (Somn. 1.125, cf. Somn. 1.123; Mos. 1.54, and see LSJ 1831, A.2).

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The word for “free” (καθαρά) also has the sense of pure or clean. The expression “free of meats” (καθαρὰ τῶν ἐναίμων) then associates purity with a vegetarian diet (Graffigna 1992, 151–152). This same association between purity and non-meat food is found in Spec. 1.255–256, in describing the first-fruits offered by priests in the Temple: a flour and oil offering that had to be consumed by fire (Lev 6:20–22). These should be from “none of the meats, but from the purest of human food” (ἀπ’ οὐδενὸς τῶν ἐναίμων, ἀλλ’ ἀπὸ τοῦ καθαρωτάτου τῆς ἀνθρωπίνης τροφῆς), which is fine flour (= bread). This would avoid the danger of eating blood (Lev 17:10–14 LXX). The acknowledgement of the ideal of a vegetarian diet that is extremely simple picks up on what is widely acknowledged in philosophical circles of the Graeco-Roman world (Haussleiter 1935; Dombrowski, 1984; Beckwith 1988; McGowan 1999, 68–85). Plato could assume that there was no meat-eating at the start of human existence (Plato, Pol. 271d–272b, and for further see McGowan 1999, 70). The 3rd-century Neo-platonist Porphyry wrote an entire treatise against the eating of animals, De Abstinentia, in which he cites both Chaeremon’s On the Egyptian Priests (Abst. 4, 6–9, see Introduction pp. 8–17) and the Essenes (Abst. 4.11–13, see Taylor 2012, 107–108) as examples; likewise Plutarch, in the 2nd century, wrote a two part work On the Eating of Flesh (De esu carnium) citing Pythagoras as the originator of the practice of vegetarianism (cf. Seneca, Ep. 108.17–18). In Iamblichus, Vita Pythag. 107–109, Pythagoras instructs the most contemplative of his philosophers (θεωρητικωτάτος τῶν φιλοσόφων) never to eat anything living and abstain from wine, but the others would eat meat. Vegetarianism was also considered to be the healthiest diet (Davies 1984, 17–19). There was also a vegetarian ideal in Judaism, though it is not explicitly stated in any source that the Essenes were vegetarians, despite Porphyry’s citation of Josephus’s text of B.J. 2.118–161, though one of Porphyry’s interesting additions is that the food of the Essenes was “sacred and pure” (Abst. 4:12, addition to B.J. 2.131). Andrew McGowan (1999, 82–85) has noted, after the destruction of the Temple there was a movement of perushim (“separated ones,” not to be identified with Pharisees: Taylor 2012, 188–191), who decided not to drink wine or eat meat, so b.Baba Bathra 60b, t.Soṭa, 15.11–13, and the Midrash on the Psalms (137.6). Beckwith (1988, 409–410) suggests this extreme kashrut (so Simon 1985, 408–411) might have been a way of avoiding idolatry, with an ascetic twist (Tobit 1.10–13; Judith 10:5; 12:2; LXX Ezek. 46:17–18). As McGowan (79, n. 163) has noted, there may also have been health motivations (Davies, 1984, 17–19). It may also have derived from Pythagorean practice (Lévy 1965, 42–44). However, the “outdoing” of the food of Egyptian priests as described by Chaeremon (Porphyry, Abst. 4.6) seems implicit: while they abstain only during

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periods of purification and fasting, the Therapeutae abstain on seventh days and indeed all the time. (§74) For just as right reason dictates sobriety for the priests sacrificing, so also for those living this lifestyle Abstinence from wine (νηφάλια) is here stated as something taught by “right reason” (ὁ ὀρθὸς λόγος), which in this context seems to be that which is inherent in biblical law. However, this must be a view of the Therapeutae, while Philo himself does not otherwise counsel total abstinence from wine, or a vegetarian diet, as a feature of his philosophy. This is one dimension of the practice of the Therapeutae that is at variance with Philo’s own way of life, as also the necessity of country living (cf. Leg. 2.85). Philo advised eating and drinking in moderation, and one should try to keep one’s wits even one is forced to overindulge (Fug. 32). The law that priests should not drink wine when serving on Temple duties is found in Lev 10:8–11 and Ezek 44:21. Philo refers to this also (Spec. 1.98–100, 274 and 4.191), as does Josephus (A.J. 3.279; B.J. 5.229). Ps.Hecataeus of Abdera specifically indicates this ruling, by stating in fact that there is an absolute ban on drinking wine at this time (as cited in Josephus, C. Ap. 1.199, see Hayward 1996, 24–25; Stern 1974, I.39, 43). In copying the priests, serving at the Temple, Jean Riaud (1993) has argued that the Therapeutae saw themselves as having a priestly vocation, but in an allegorical or philosophical sense (cf. Taylor 2003, 302–310). Likewise, in Mos. 2.67, Philo states that Moses purifies his soul and body, by abstaining from sex, meat and from drinking wine, prior to his ascent on Sinai. The Therapeutae then appear to be keeping this state of readiness in terms of preparing for their own mystical project; their whole lives are dedicated to this state of divine focus and service, and thus they are imitating the priests always. By implication, the key link between the priests and the θεραπευταί is to do with their life of θεραπεῖα (a word found also in Josephus, C. Ap.1.30 in discussing the priestly “service” of God, see Introduction pp. 55–56). The theme of the entire treatise is that these people serve as true ministers of God by living a lifestyle of total devotion all the time. These people are more excellent than the priests; the members of the Mareotic group provide their services, continually in a virtual holy Temple. because wine is a drug of foolishness, and costly dishes provoke the most insatiable of animals: desire. In §2 desire is identified as one of the passions that has caused illness in the soul. In Stoic thought there were four cardinal passions (Diogenes Laertius, Lives 7.110–111): desire (ἐπιθυμία), pleasure (ἡδονή), fear (φόβος), and grief

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(λύπη). These were also utilized as standard by Philo; in Ebr. 105 he allegorically identifies the nine kings defeated by Abraham in Gen. 14 with the four cardinal passions along with the five senses. In Contempl. 55, 56, 59, 61, these are associated with the many follies of the people participating in bad symposia, who are driven by desires of all kinds. Here, Philo sums up a key aim of the life of the Therapeutae: to avoid desire, which “costly dishes (ὄψα … πολυτελῆ) provoke (διερεθίζει).” The verb διερεθίζω means to “provoke greatly” (LSJ 425). Philo uses the word only in three other places in his extant works. In Deus 138 the soul is provoked to a frenzy by divinely sent goads of remorse. In Mut. 159 a lamb, hegoat or young ox defends itself when one begins to “provoke” it. Thus, pleasure can “goad” or “provoke” the mind (Praem. 19). The idea is then that one should avoid goading the beast of desire with a stick, and rousing it to ferocity. The “wild beast” of the appetitive part of the soul is found in Plato’s Timaeus (70e). In Plato’s theory there are three “parts” of the soul: reason (λόγος), high spirit/wrath (θυμός) and desire (ἐπιθυμία) (Tim 69e–70a; Resp. 4.440b–d, 442c, 9.580d; Cicero., Tusc. 1.10.20), and the appetitive or desirous portion should be ruled by the rational part (Plato, Resp. 10.606a–d), since it is inferior and bodily (Plato, Phaed. 64c–d, 66b–c, 81b, 83d, 94b–e). Philo accepted this division along with the notion of these being respectively in the head (cf. Tim. 73d, 76a– d), the heart/breast (Tim 70a–b) and the belly (Tim 70e): desire is based in the diaphragm (see e.g., Leg. 1.70, 3.115; Conf. 21; Migr. 66–67; Spec. 1.146, 4.92–94). High spirit and desire work together like uncontrollable horses to drag down the soul (Leg. 1.72–73, Agr. 72–78; cf. Plato, Phaed. 246b, 247b). He could also speak of two powers in the soul (Det. 82–83, see Dillon 2010). For Philo desire was indeed a many-headed beast (Philo, QE 1.19), an image borrowed from Plato (Resp. 588c–589b). In Philo’s view, desire is expressly forbidden by Moses in the commandment “You shall not covet,” as we see in his discussions in Spec. 4.79–84, 95 and Leg. 3.185, where there is a requirement to remove all the passions from the soul, desire being the beginning of all of them. Desire is one of the passions, and all of these arise out of what the senses perceive (Abr. 238); ultimately desire leads to anger and upset, if one cannot get what one desires (Leg. 3:113–114). The most extensive diatribe Philo makes against desire is found in Spec. 4:80–94: desire exacerbates the “mistresses” of Hunger and Thirst (see Contempl. 37) and creates new hunger and thirst for money, glory, rule, beauty, and other things. It goes around the whole soul like a fire, and is the spring of all evils (Spec. 4.82–85). Desire is likened to “deadly animals and deadly posions of drugs” (Spec. 4.86), and is linked strongly with the belly (Spec. 4.91): the loose, dissolute life of people gorging on food is specifically identified as leading to an unhappy life (Spec. 4.92).

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Edification §§75–79

Philo now turns to how the symposium of the Therapeutae includes edification provided by a teacher who is truly exemplary. Everything about the discourse that is delivered is done correctly, with those listening adopting a perfect mode of silence and careful attention. The discourse involves a discussion of the allegorical meaning of Scripture, so that the deeper sense is brought out, and problems solved. Its style is then configured as one of Philo’s own allegorical treatises. Only the prohedros, or president, is noted as speaking; the others, no matter how accomplished they are, remain silent. Philo stresses order, hierarchy, quietness, slowness. The silence is in contrast to what will take place after the meal, when the group spend all night in singing and dancing. This passage develops what Philo has already stated regarding the Sabbath discourse of the most senior figure in §31. Given that the dinner Philo described takes place on the seventh day also, the group in question will have already had one discourse, in the “sanctuary” (semneion) and now will have another, in the dining room (sumposion). Unlike what is said in regard to the divided space of the “sanctuary,” the dining room is not said to be divided by a wall, for the sake of the women’s modesty. The men and women are apart, but later they all go into the middle, which seems to be then an open space. Detailed Comments (§75) And such are the preliminaries. After the dinner-participants have reclined These who recline are only the seniors/elders among the group, male and female (§§67–69), not everyone. They are reclining on very basic couches, as described in §69. in the grades I have explained Note the insertion of the author as “I” here. The word for “grades” (τάξεσι) is plural here, indicating each person has an allotted one. The word τάξις has military connotations of a company of soldiers (cf. Her. 46, noted by Colson, PLCL 9:119) and in §11 is translated as “order”, However, in § 61 the word indicates a grade (as a girl, inferior to a boy), and in § 80 everyone takes a turn at singing “according to grades in order” (κατὰ τάξεις ἐν κόσμῳ) and it seems here too that grades are indicated. Here, Philo refers back to § 66 where they are “standing sequentially according to rank, in order” (στάντες ἑξῆς κατὰ στοῖχον ἐν κόσμῳ). They recline at dinner in the same order (§ 67). Philo has been extremely insistent on this precise arrangement of grading, first indicating the

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group sitting “according to age sequentially” (καθ’ ἠλικὶαν ἑξῆς) to hear the discourse during the daytime of the Sabbath in §30, but later qualifying what “age” means in this context. The grades apply to both male and female elders who sit in separate sections of the dining room while eating (see § 68). Philo therefore presents the group as extremely hierarchical, with everyone knowing their place, though there is no indication of how they do so. While Philo emphasizes the importance of equality in regard to the avoidance of slavery in §§ 70–72, this can work along with an arrangement of people in a particular order within the group. We are told nothing about how people qualify for different grades. and after the servers (diakonoi) have stood in order ready for service In §66 Philo has written that everyone stands in order beforehand to pray, and then the seniors/elders recline (§67), thereby leaving those juniors standing who are designated as waiters for the meal. They too have an internal order, just as those who are reclining. This reference to “servers” (διάκονοι) is a striking use of a term that would become distinctive in Christian communities for an order of ministers (deacons). As previously noted regarding §§70–71 the verb διακονέω and adjective διακονικός refer in Philo specifically to table-service. Thus, the “servers” (διάκονοι) are those designated to wait on tables, providing this specific type of service. There is only one known parallel for the designation of “server” (διἀκονος) elsewhere in a Jewish context: in a 4th-century tomb inscription from Apamea in Syria, it is described as being of Nemias “hazzan and server” (άζζανα καὶ διάκονος, CIJ 805), which seems to imply that a hazzan in a synagogue could be also designated as “server”, διάκονος, though it may be that Christian usage influenced synagogues by this time. Also in the later 4th century, Epiphanius (Pan. 130.11.4) states that “hazzans” in a synagogue may be translated as “server” or “attendant” (διάκονοι or ὑπηρεταί). From a slightly earlier time there is a reference to “attendants” (ὑπηρεταί) in the synagogue (CIJ 172, 3rd–4th cent., see Burtchaell 1992, 248 n. 12), which is a term known from numerous cultic contexts of the Graeco-Roman world, in terms of temple attendants. Luke 4:20 refers to an attendant (ὑπηρετής) in a synagogue who receives the scroll of Scripture and a papyrus from the second half of the 1st century BCE records a “head attendant” (ἁρχυπηρετῶν) in a synagogue context (CPJ 1.138; Runesson, Binder and Olsson 2008, 215). The assumption would be that the waiters among the Therapeutae are male and female, in line with the fact that the elders are male and female and seated apart from each other. Female “servers” (διάκονοι, using the masculine noun) are attested in churches, in the case of Phoebe, “server” (διάκονος) of Cenchreae (Rom 16:1) and the women tortured by Pliny the Younger (so his Letter

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10 to Trajan, c. 112CE) are called “servers” (ministrae). Inscriptions testifying to women “servers” (διάκονοι) have been gathered together by Eisen (2000, 158– 198). Within the early churches, there may have been some variety of practice in this (given the ambiguities of 1Tim 3:11), but the choice of the junior Therapeutae serving being “according to merit” (ἀριστίνδην, § 72) is paralleled in Acts 6:1–6: apostles (envoys) devolve their function of “table-service” to seven men, to serve widows at table in special meals, but these men include Stephen and Philip, who are especially gifted with prophetic powers. In terms of how Philo presents things in Contempl. his tone indicates how unusual the circumstances of this meal are, with junior members of the group of special merit being chosen to wait on the reclining seniors/elders. According to Philo, there are no slaves present as members of the community or as people who serve at table; all are free (§§71–72), and the juniors take the place of slaves in terms of manual labour. The juniors appear to be the “dailies” mentioned in § 66 (ἐφημερευταί). Philo only indicates the juniors in this context, but elsewhere they may be implied. We have already learnt that food was provided for those in the small huts (§30), when they think of it after sunset (§ 33), though some do not remember it for three days (§35), while others eat only after six (35). Note that any mention of the juniors preparing the food for the contemplative ascetics is not explored earlier in the treatise (see Taylor 2003, 99–102). Their appearance is left to a late stage. when a great silence has come upon all See the Textual Notes: the Greek text is reconstructed in various ways on the basis of the Armenian. The sense is that the meal does not begin till after the president speaks and hymns are sung (§§81–82), and before this speech everyone is completely silent. In fact, nowhere in the treatise does Philo indicate conversations among the Therapeutae, but he does not claim they exercise a Trappist-like discipline of silence either—except when the time comes to listen to a speaker (as in §§31 and 75). Note that the servers are also standing in this dining room and therefore are also listening to the discourse. This kind of silent waiting for the speaker to begin was correct practice, in Roman terms (Pliny, Ep. 2.10; Tacitus, Dial. 6), and Plutarch wrote at length about the right way to listen attentively (Plutarch, Rect. rat. aud.). “though when is there not?” someone may say Philo again inserts an anticipated wry audience reaction, as he has done in terms of those who might laugh in §73.

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but [I mean] even more than before, so that there is no one daring to murmur or to exhale too strongly This awareness of silence and the need to keep completely quiet and not breathe too loudly is something that would suggest Philo observed this meal himself, and perhaps he has been invited to it as a guest. If so, the emphasis on order as defined in the group would have been particularly surprising to someone like him, who would have expected to have been placed in the most honourable position. All of his observations about the group and their practice could have arisen from a single visit for one of the Sabbath of Sabbaths meals. However, it is also possible that he spent longer with this group, as a “junior” himself, at some point in his life. [then] their president (prohedros) See Textual Note. The designation “president” πρόεδρος is added here in CW and Colson on the basis of the Armenian manuscripts, since the Greek manuscript tradition is imperfect at this point: the word is supplied from § 79. In §31 Philo has referred to one who is “the most senior” (πρεσβύτατος) who would correspond with this person, the “president” (πρόεδρος), which in Greek is literally “the front-seated one” (Plato, Leg. 949e). This word does not necessarily imply a male subject, since in a papyrus found in Oxyrhynchus a woman is honoured as a “president” (πρόεδρος) and “father of the city” (P. Oxy. 36.2780; Rowlandson with Bagnall 1998, 204). As with the word for “server” (διάκονος), a woman who exercises a function that is normatively assigned to men has the masculine noun ascribed to her. Given that this is a ranking based on exegetical excellence, then, the speaker could at times have been a woman (and see § 31). Philo’s allegorical mention of a “wise woman,” Skepsis, who teaches him (Fug. 55) would by implication indicate at the very least the appropriateness of the concept of a woman teacher (see Taylor 2003, 102–103). The term relates to the custom of prohedria (προεδρία), which is the right to sit in the best, front places in theatres and other institutions, and thus the bestowing of prohedria on a person makes them a “president” (πρόεδρος). Bernadette Brooten has suggested that the privilege of prohedria in the Tation inscription (3rd cent. from Phocaea, Ionia; CIJ 738), is the right to sit in front of the synagogue on the teaching seat of Moses (Brooten 1982, 143–144, cf. Matt 23:2, 6), though curiously often this is understood to mean the front row of the congregation (Levine 2005, 505). In the context of the meal Philo describes, the term would refer to the one who has the highest position of honour in the reclining arrangement, who is placed first and thereby most esteemed of all. Thus the “president” is also the “premier”, “first-placed,” “most senior” (cf. §31) or “front-seated.” Philo’s gram-

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mar indicates a male subject, as envisioned by him, but then all of this group, including the women, are “men” (see §1). Elsewhere in Philo’s extant works, the term “president” (πρόεδρος) is matched with another word “council-leader” (πρόβουλος, Her. 243), or “ruler” (πρύτανις, Somn. 2.187). In Contempl. Philo indicates nothing about whether this might be a long-term or short-term role; since the one placed at the front is dependent on exegetical insight (cf. §31), then presumably that role could be continually re-assigned among the elders, on merit, depending on what work has been done in the previous weeks, just as the juniors are chosen on merit for their serving duties as waiters (§72). If the “servers” (διάκονοι) correspond in some ways with the earliest such “servers” of Christian churches, could the “president” (πρόεδρος) be considered equivalent to the Christian “overseer” (ἐπίσκοπος)? As Graffigna (1992, 157) notes, the term is employed as a synonym for “overseer” or “bishop” (ἐπισκοπός) and other leading clergy in patristic literature (Lampe 1142–1143). While “overseer” (ἐπίσκοπος) is an administrative and functional term (Eisen 2000, 205–206), it indicates one who presides or oversees others, perhaps reflecting what “synagogue ruler” would do in practical terms. Women could exercise this kind of administrative function in early Judaism, e.g., Julia Crispina—probably a member of the Herodian royal family—in the Babatha archives (P. Yadin 20) is called an “overseer” (ἐπίσκοπος, not ἐπίσκοπα, Ilan 1992). The term might also have been applied to Judas, in that his “overseership” (ἐπισκοπή) is referred to by quoting the LXX version of Psalms 109:8. “His overseership (ἐπισκοπή) let another one take” (Acts 1:20), here indicating an administrative duty, thus he is an “office-holder.” The question is whether this refers to the office of treasurer (cf. John 12:6, 19:29) or his position as one of the Twelve. The Hebrew word in Psalm 109:8 is: pequddah, related to noun paqad, which is interesting because this is one of the leadership roles of communities of the Dead Sea Scrolls. The paqid—or overseer—examines people who want to join the council of the community (1QS 6.14–17, cf. CD 14.6–8). In Acts 20:17 and 28 Paul says to these elders of Ephesus, “be on your guard for yourselves and for all the flock, among which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers to shepherd the church of God …,” implying a protecting and guiding role for all the elders, not one single president. In Philippians 1:1, the letter opens with: “Paul and Timothy, slaves of Christ Jesus to all the holy ones in Christ Jesus who are in Philippi, including the overseers and deacons,” as if the former are the senior members of the group and the deacons the juniors among the leadership. Likewise, and famously, in 1Timothy 3:1–7, only overseers (plural, for a single community) and deacons are defined, and here specific rules for their suitability are laid out:

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The saying is sure: if anyone aspires to a [be] a bishop/overseer, he desires beautiful/right work. Now the bishop/overseer must be above reproach, a one-wife husband, sober, temperate, sensible, respectable, hospitable, teachable (διδακτικός), not a drunkard, not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome, and not a lover of money. He should manage his own household well, keeping children submissive and very respectful in every way— for if someone does not know how to manage his own household, how can he take care of an assembly/church of God? He must not be a newcomer, in order that he may not be conceited and fall into the judgement of the devil. It is necessary [for him] to have a good testimony from outsiders, so that he may not fall into disgrace and the snare of the devil. It is not possible here to engage with the vast literature on this passage, but only a few remarks will suffice. Here it is indicated that an “overseer” (ἐπίσκοπος) has to prove himself by managing his own home and children to prove that he can take care of an assembly; it is thus implied that the overseer must have been a mature, well-respected married man who has overseen his own household well as a manager. This implies the role involved an organizational and protective function, and so the masculine language would undoubtedly have seemed appropriate in the community addressed. The unusual adjective “teachable” (διδακτικός) in 1Tim 3:2 and 2Tim 2:24 is often considered to mean “apt at teaching” (LSJ 421), but this does not correspond to Philo’s usage; he uses it for someone or something that can be taught, e.g., “the teachable virtue,” as opposed to virtue that is learnt by special practice (Congr. 35; and see Mut. 83, 88; Praem. 27). If this is in fact the correct understanding of the adjective then an overseer (ἐπίσκοπος) had no specific function of teaching, but needed to be taught. At any rate, unlike what we find in the Pastoral Epistles in regard to the “overseer”, in Contempl. the “president” is the “most senior” elder, and here is very much concerned with providing an interpretative discourse. The difference of between the two roles may be understood as being between the role of a manager and the role of a teacher and interpretive guide. Given what we have described in Contempl., it seems as if the whole community is divided between being “senior” or “junior,” with the prohedros, president, heading the group in terms of honour and teaching authority. seeks out something of the [questions] in the sacred scriptures See the Textual Notes. The president’s discourse is clearly one of allegorical exegesis of scripture, which is based on the “most sacred instructions of the

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prophet Moses” (§64), here defined as the “sacred scriptures.” He identifies key questions and then proceeds to explain the deeper meaning of the text. or even solves [a question] previously offered by another The word for “solves” in Greek literally means “loosen up” (ἐπιλύω), which is to disentangle a knot or solve a puzzle (cf. Mark 4:34). The style of the talk by the president appears to be in the format of Philo’s treatises Questions and Answers on Genesis and Questions and Answers on Exodus. There are questions and solutions. A question is asked of what is really meant in sacred Scripture. According to the theory of Nikiprowetzky (1977) the allegorical commentaries of Philo are, overall, structured on the basis of exegetical questions and answers (see also Runia 1990, 190–194). The Therapeutae therefore engage in the very type of exegesis that of Philo himself engages in. They are both part of the same school of allegorical exegesis. Some issues are raised by the president himself. Others have been raised previously by someone else. We may suppose that “another” indicates some exegetical problem brought for discussion. Or else the president is aware of exegetical puzzles raised by persons inside or outside the group who have been expressed orally or in writing—as a modern teacher might refer to questions raised in commentaries. The president “solves” these questions. By implication the president is such a expert exegete as to leave everyone else in the group confident that the problem has ceased to exist. not thinking of a display [of oratory], for he does not grasp at glory with cleverness of words, but he is longing to see something more accurately The verb for “grasp” (ὀρέγεται) gives us a sense of what the speaker is not trying to do. Note the use of the verb “to see” (θεάσασθαι), which ties in with the Two Ways model, contrasting blindness with seeing. Here the speaker is contrasted with the Sophists who have appeared earlier in the treatise (§§ 4, 31). In many ways this description here echoes what was already said in § 31 concerning the skill of the speaker. He does not want to build up a reputation for presenting a talk in a false though persuasive fashion. He just wants to get at the truth, expecting that his audience will find that most convincing. He does not seek to gain a reputation for fine speaking that will set him apart from others in the community, though he is not averse to gaining a reputation for superior or at least special exegetical insight.

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and, seeing, he does not resent those who are not similarly sharp-sighted, since they at least have the same will to learn. The genitive τού refers back to the subject, thus it is translated as “the same.” As the president speaks, he finds a solution to the proposed question and is quick to share it with the others unselfishly. They may not be as smart as he is, but their longing for understanding is equal. Now another point of diversity appears: some persons are smarter exegetes than others, which relates also to the grading of each person. How this is assessed is not indicated. There is equality of interest, but inequality of insight. Both men and women show the same ardour (§32). The Therapeutae recognize that a system of slavery presupposes human inequality which is “evil” (§70). Nonetheless, the Therapeutae recognize different measures of exegetical capacity. The leader is qualified for the job by exegetical pre-eminence (cf. the characterization of the speaker at the Sabbath meetings in the synagogue as one “most experienced in the doctrines” § 31). However, there is no indication that this means that he has administrative leadership, unlike in the case of a Christian ἐπισκοπός (see above). Again we have the emphasis on seeing. The term Philo uses for exegetical insight is “sharp-sighted” (ὀξυδορκοῦσι, LSJ 1235). A kind of intellectual and spiritual vision is emphasized. Spiritual vision is identical with, or closely allied to, insight into the true meaning of Scripture. In describing this discourse by the president, Philo carefully subverts the usual format of a symposium, in which discussion would take place rather than a lecture, largely while drinking wine and eating well (Niehoff 2010, 112; Standhartinger 2017, 70, n. 20, see Plutarch, Quaest. conv. 1.1, 613c–f; id. Sept. sap. conv. 156d; Dio Chrysostom, Or. 27.3–4). As Standhartinger (2017) notes, there is a similarity to what Philo states of synagogue talks elsewhere, when people sit in silence and listen (Spec. 2.62; Mos. 2.215–216), but in a normal synagogue apparently there was some discussion at some point (Spec. 2.125). Philo loops back to what he has already said in §§30–31, and in the case of the Therapeutae he really does not seem to suggest any discussion whatsoever, either in the sanctuary or in the dining room. The speaker and listeners are absolutely perfect (see Larsen 2016). (§76) He engages in the teaching very slowly, lingering and emphasizing with repetitions The composed, gentle and slow form of speaking presented here would have pressed the right buttons for a Roman audience: Seneca, Ep. 40, writing “On the Proper Style for a Philosopher’s Discourse,” advocated the same mode for a philosopher, whose “speech, like his life, should be composed; and nothing that rushes headlong and is hurried is well ordered.” Seneca thus advises

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the recipient of his letter to be “slow of speech.” The word for “lingering” (διαμέλλω) indicates this, as does “with repetitions” (ταῖς ἐπαναλήψεσιν). Indeed, an epanalepsis is a designated form of rhetoric, a recapitulation of a theme, as Quintilian (Inst. or. 8.3:51) defines it (Daumas and Miquel 1963, 137–138). Philo himself is also repeating here, in his description of the speaker, what he has already said. In §31 Philo says accuracy revealed in the speaker’s Sabbath presentation “does not stay on the tips of the ears, but comes through the hearing to the soul and there remains securely.” Philo’s own repetitions are then also deliberate, intended to more deeply impress upon his readers certain essential things. One might infer that he is not speaking just as an expert in a highly technical field of allegorical interpretation; he is also, as it were, preaching a sermon, speaking—like Philo often himself in Leg.—about the hidden truths of the spiritual life, the life with God. The more junior members of the group, who are standing there ready to serve, perhaps need to have things repeated and slowly instilled, but even those who labour at allegorical exegesis six days a week nonetheless might fail to grasp the profound thoughts of the speaker, did he not shape his speech so as to emphasize repetition. engraving the thoughts on the souls Perhaps Philo would inevitably think of God engraving the tablets he gave to Moses at Sinai. The reader will also recall that the Therapeutae assiduously write down (on papyrus?) the hymns they compose (§ 29). The president writes on the souls partly by means of careful repetition in his speaking. The sense is surely that these repetitious ways of going over his main ideas incise his thoughts more deeply and firmly in his audience’s memory tablets. for in the interpretation of one running on quickly and breathlessly the mind of the listeners, being unable to follow, lags behind and lacks the apprehension of what is said This description matches what is stated by Seneca in Ep. 40 (and see Larsen 2016). In the letter Seneca presents Greeks as being more prone to rapidity, while Romans—speaking Latin—are slower and clearer, apparently using a common notion. Too fast a pace means that even attentive listeners will be lost, which defeats the purpose of an edifying discourse. Everything should be for the purpose of understanding, not for show. (§77) They listen, having pricked up their ears and lifted up their eyes to him, See Textual Notes. These words “having pricked up … eyes” are inserted into the C-W text from the Armenian version.

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remaining in one and the same position, indicating understanding and acceptance with nods and looks, their praise of the speaker with cheerfulness and by slightly turning the face For “slightly” (σχέδην) Colson understands it to mean “gradually” or “quietly”; Conybeare has: “by cheerfulness and by slightly turning their faces about.” The word σχέδην is only found here in all of Philo’s works. There is no sound from the audience, but simply a change of expression, very subtly done, and the speaker seems to be extremely alert to these, perhaps responding appropriately. Again there seems to be a sense in which someone (Philo himself?) has observed the audience listening to the speaker. This kind of detail is quite remarkable. perplexity by a gentler movement of the head and by a finger-tip of the right hand. While reclining on a couch for a dinner, the norm was to lie on the left side, leaving the right hand free to use for picking up food. This hand is therefore exposed. The expression “and by a finger tip of the right hand” (καὶ ἄκρῳ δακτύλῳ τῆς δεξιᾶς χειρός) is translated in Daumas and Miquel (1963, 139) as “de l’ index de la main droite,” as also Graffigna (1992, 83), but Colson (PLCL 9:161) has “finger-tip.” Really “finger-tip” rather than “index finger” must be meant here (cf. Procopius of Gaza, Ep. 31), even though “index finger” might make better sense. Philo seems to be indicating minimal movement, and one remembers that in the “sanctuary” meeting place the hands are held in a particular way within garments, with the right hand held between chest and chin (§ 30). Philo is clearly impressed by posture. In §§30–31 there is an interest in how the listeners in the Sabbath assembly are sitting (not reclining as here) and indicating approval by looks and nods, and there too they here have the correct position (and interestingly a covering of the left hand is shown in the Philo portraits of the Sacra Parallela in Paris Cod. Gr. 923, 305v; 310v), but whereas in the earlier sections they were clearly sitting, for the right and left hand to be mentioned in the way they are, here they are reclining on their left sides, with only their right hands free. Also, while women and men are apart, they do not seem to be so apart that their expressions are blocked from view. The speaker here can apparently now see all the faces. In §77 Philo adds something more missing in the earlier passage about the speaker (§31) where the audience only indicates agreement: here sometimes the audience members are puzzled by what the speaker says, and they have ways of signalling to the speaker the lack of comprehension by a gentler movement of the head and a finger-tip on the right hand. The speaker is expected

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to keep his eyes on the audience. If they give him a signal, he will try to make some kind of adjustment, backtrack and clear up the confusion. No one interrupts the speaker audibly, but such a visual cue is expected to be enough. The variety of responses does indicate some range of understanding and comprehension among the members of the group. The listeners can and do signal lack of comprehension, perhaps even disagreement; this is to be expected since there are juniors as well as seniors listening. However, it is evident that they are not in this setting allowed to express their thoughts and ask the speaker to justify his ideas. Yet it remains interesting that, despite all their attention, some hearers have difficulty of some kind (διαπόρησις) with what the speaker is saying; and provision is made for such complaints to be registered— presumably so that the speaker can repeat, rephrase or explain more fully. Philo’s language even seems to allow that some listeners might hear and understand but disagree with the interpretations proffered. The final clause in the sentence, after all, sets up some kind of contrast between praise of the speaker and difficulty sometimes felt by the listeners. This is not a passive audience or one in which there are no differences of opinion, with everyone sharing one mind. As Matthew Larsen (2016) has explored, Plutarch’s treatise, Moralia 3: De Recta Ratione Audiendi (esp. 10–11 [42f–43d], 17–18 [47d–48a]) is again relevant here as much of it concerns the relationship between the speaker and the audience. While Plutarch considers it highly important that the right attitude is one of silence, he also indicates that it is correct for a student audience to ask questions and indicate lack of comprehension: if you do not then you fail to gain understanding when the responsibility is yours to achieve this by asking the right questions in the right way. For the Therapeutae these questions are not spoken but signalled and it is the responsibility of the speaker to then be alert to these. The juniors who are standing are no less attentive than the ones who recline. The juniors who wait on the reclining elders are again signalled as being part of the audience, and they could then signal their understanding and puzzlement in the same way. They too are fascinated by exegetical lectures. They stand ready to serve their “parent” seniors/elders food and drink when the time for dining comes, but with total attentiveness, watching the speaker, just like the others in the room. One day they too might be elders reclining on couches (or even the one who is speaking). As for gender, the translation “juniors” is given for νέοι as it does not indicate only “young men,” despite Colson’s translation, but is inclusively “young people” or “juniors” (since this is not an age classification) and the Greek masculine plural embraces feminine subjects. Philo, or

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his informant, would have been positioned within the male part of the dining room, and therefore an androcentric perspective is created by his positioning. (§78) The explanations of the sacred scriptures take place through deeper meanings in allegories This section expands on what was already stated in §§ 28–29 in terms of the allegorical method of exegesis employed by the people Philo describes. The speech occurs here in the middle of their Sabbath of Sabbaths festive evening. This is the only place in Philo’s extant writings where he uses the word “explanation” or “exegesis” (ἐξήγησις) and refers to what the president (who is “first-placed” in the seating arrangement) is doing in explaining the sacred scriptures. The books that are the subject of study are identified as “laws, and oracles delivered through prophets, and hymns” in § 25. For all the law seems to these men to be like a living being, and seems to have words laid out as its body, while its soul, the invisible mind, is stored up in the wording. We return to the masculine language of “to these men” (τοῖς ἀνδράσι τούτοις) even though Philo continually points out the presence of women. As previously noted, Philo twice overuses the term “men” (ἄνδροι) for all the members of the group, despite insisting that women are included (§§ 1, 78), and talks of “men of old” (§29). This is likely to do with the emphasis on andreia, “manly virtue”, as well as a defensive position against Graeco-Egyptian accusations (see Introduction p. 6). Philo refers in §78 to both “the sacred scriptures” (τά ἱερά γράμματα) and the “law” (ἡ νομοθεσία) to indicate what is studied, with the “law” referring to the Pentateuch, the five books of Moses. In §25 the writings include more than the law, and in §28 we have the sense that the law, νόμος, is also φύσις, Nature. Colson has “living creature” since here it defines all entities that possess both body and mind/soul. The metaphor of the law as a living being is found also in QG 3:3 and Migr. 93 (see Hay 1979–1980, 50), using an image from Plato (Phaedr. 264c). Socrates states here that a discourse should be organized like a body of a living being, not headless or footless, and with a middle and members in appropriate relationship to each other. In Migr. 93, however, Philo argues against people who use the same allegorical method he uses, but take it to an extreme, leading them to forsake a literal interpretation of the laws. Philo exhorts these extreme allegorizers to draw the logical conclusions of this image, which they too must accept for it to be persuasive in his argument. Philo states that, “we take care of the body because it is the dwelling-place of the soul,” and so the outward, literal laws should also be regarded, as one would take care of the

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body (Migr. 93). Paul’s view, that the literal law kills but the spiritual meaning gives life, to slightly paraphrase 2Cor 3:6, would tally with this perspective (see Introduction, pp. 65–68). In conceptualizing the literal words as a body, it has to be said that the attitude of the Therapeutae to the body itself is not overly positive. In their huts, they are “not bringing in either drink or food, or anything of the other things which are necessary for the needs of the body” (§ 25). They pray that “the soul be completely relieved of the crowd of the senses and objects of sense” (§ 27). The needs of the body are associated with darkness (§ 34). This may mean that the literal laws are not completely dispensed with, but they are not valued as much as the spiritual meanings, though ultimately Philo himself wants to insist that the Therapeutae have the right balance between body and soul (§§ 89–90). In the invisible mind, the rational soul has begun especially to contemplate similar things A new sentence begins here in the translation though in Greek there is a relative clause. The relative pronoun (ᾦ) could be masculine or neuter, and refers back to the “invisible mind” (see Colson, PLCL 9:161). Note that the relative pronoun cannot refer back to the “wordings” (ταῖς λέξεσιν) which is plural feminine. The rational soul contemplates what is similar to it in the soul, the invisible mind, within Scripture, seeing through the literal words that are the body of the living being, to the underlying meanings. The word “to see” (θεωρεῖν) is a key theme of what the contemplative, “seeing”, life is all about and Philo plays on the double entendre. It reminds the audience of the Two Ways of sight and blindness. See also Textual Notes. she is discerning as through a mirror of the names transcendent beauties made of thoughts manifesting and unfolding and revealing the symbols This loquacious tumbling of words involving numerous participles seems to reach to the heights of Philo’s dexterity in terms of his expression of transcendent realities. He creates in fact an image of the feminine soul being like a woman staring at her body in a mirror of “names” (the words written down, Cher. 17), and finding that she sees not her clothed form (the literal words of the law), but a reflection back of her naked rational soul in the invisible mind, the soul of the living creature of the law. The true underlying meanings in the words of Scripture appear naked before her, rather than her clothed body, since the rational soul perceives the nature of herself in the mirror. Seeing these deeper meanings lying within the wordings of Scripture is the task of those who have the capacity, with a little reminding (through the speech), to see/contemplate. Those who are listening are themselves experiencing insight. The outer

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is stripped away so that the naked soul appears. A similar concept appears also in Migr. 190: the mirror is a way of seeing that which is invisible and is a means of revelation (cf. also Leg. 3:101; Fug. 213, see Graffigna 1992, 153–157). In the New Testament the image of the mirror is found in James 1:23–27: the one who does not do the works commanded in God’s law is like someone who looks into a mirror briefly and then forgets their own image (or self) as soon as they cease to look into the mirror. To actually do the works of the law means to be continually seeing yourself truly through the law as a mirror. Paul uses a somewhat similar image in 1Cor 13:12: “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully, even as I have been fully understood” (and see also 2Cor 3:18). Unlike James and Philo, Paul does not think we see clearly by looking into the mirror. Further, Paul does not explicitly say that the mirror in view is God’s law. Still, Paul may have somewhat in mind the idea that through love we are able to see not only God but our true selves, though imperfectly. “When the perfect comes” may allude not only to the direct vision of God but also to the direct perfect knowledge of oneself, the kind of knowledge God already has (“as I am fully known”). bringing the meanings out naked into light for those able by a little reminding to contemplate the unseen things through the seen The female soul looking into the mirror finally sees her true beauty in Scripture, nakedly revealed. The phrase “by a little reminding” (ἐκ μικρᾶς ὑπομνήσεως) is taken by Colson (PLCL 9:523), following Conybeare, to allude to the Platonic doctrine that learning is anamnesis, recollection, of latent knowledge in the mind, as in Praem. 9 (Plato, Men. 81c–d; Phaed. 72a). As Socrates’s questions could cause a slave boy to “remember” mathematical truths, so the rational soul is reminded in Scripture to discern her true and invisible self. If Colson is right, this would be another indication that Philo views Platonism positively, and that he makes use of it for his own purposes, despite the sharp critique in §§57–63. However, Daumas and Miquel (1963, 139) dispute this, considering that “reminding” (ὑπόμνησις) does not indicate a Platonic sense. Graffigna (1992, 156) points out that anamnesis is not presented as a particularly positive concept in Philo’s works: in Leg. 3:91–93 Philo identified two personages, Ephraim and Manasseh, as symbols of “memory” (μνήμη) and “recollection” (ἀνάμνησις), the former being positive and superior, the latter negative and inferior. The concept of ὑπόμνησις is then neutral and not really Platonic; the Platonic concept at any rate requires one to accept successive reincarnations of the soul. Rather the Philonic use is a “scollamento da Platone.” The objections of Daumas and Graffigna would lead to a different interpretation of the passage, so that the speaker asks those who already have the capacity

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to see hidden meanings to be reminded of how to see in the case he clearly presents, in bringing the hidden meaning out into the light. The audience still needs to be able to sharpen their own vision to see these things in this light, to contemplate (θεωρεῖν) effectively, by a little reminding of the practice of discernment. It is the speaker who is most experienced in the doctrines, and the others—in their grades—who are being reminded of the practice by the discourse. Thus, earlier in the treatise at §29 the allegorical method proceeds by studying the older written treatises which are designated as “reminders” (μνημεῖα) of the form used in allegorical writings. (§79) When then the president seems to have spoken sufficiently There is no fixed time for this discourse and the judgement on when it is right to finish is somehow decided. It is here that the designation of the speaker as the “president” (πρόεδρος) is found in the Greek manuscripts. and, according to their practice, to have met both what the discourse is accurately aiming at by the applications [of the method] and also what the audience is aiming for The expression “according to practice” (κατὰ προαίεσιν) continues the sense of this being a philosophical “practice” (προαίρεσις, see § 2). The practice here is that of the allegorical method. The speaker’s words are “well-aimed” (εὐσκόπως) and thrown on target (e.g., Legat. 6, 31; when an adverb it means, “accurately,” with the verb “to throw”, βάλλειν, Legat. 104, 174). It seems odd to associate it with “meet” (ἀπηντηκέναι) since one does not “meet” or “encounter” anything “accurately.” In fact, the adverbial use helps the meaning of the sentence, so that the adverb effectively becomes a verb in this translation. The translation of this sentence is actually quite tricky, especially given an otherwise missing verb, with parts linked by a μέν … δέ construction. Colson (PLCL 9:162, a) writes a long note explaining the technical difficulties and justifying his translation, though it is not altogether convincing. The word “applications” (ἐπιβολαϊς, fem. plural, dative) is literally “things thrown down” and has a wide and contextual idiomatic meaning in Greek literature. Colson notes that in Philo’s work the word seems to mean “aim,” or “mental effort of some kind,” referring to Mos. 1.26 and Somn. 1.1. It occurs 15 other times than in § 79 and overall means in Philo “applications,” “apprehensions,” “interests” or “projects” (Leg. 3:117, 231; Post. 20, 79, 83; Sobr. 18; Migr. 32; Congr. 143; Somn. 1.1; 2.200; Mos. 1.26; Spec. 3:180; Praem. 50, 104; QG 2.17c). Here it refers to the applications of the allegorical method, discussed in §78.

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there is applause from all as if rejoicing together at what will still follow See Textual Notes for discussion of the original wording here: C-W’s ἑψόμενον seems most likely. In §31 the Sabbath listeners expressed their approval of the discourse silently, by looks or nods. By contrast, the end of the discourse of the president is met with the clapping of hands. This is not said to be in response to the speaker, to provide acclaim, but is in joyful anticipation of what will now follow. Evidently both the president and also the listeners join together in this anticipatory clapping. There is then a sudden eruption of noise that marks a change in the treatise from a presentation of the Therapeutae as fairly quiet to being not quiet at all. This is a clear break, and from now on we will hear of music and tapping beats.

G

Musicality §80

The musicality of the Therapeutae has been indicated in § 29: they do not simply study scripture but they compose music. They are also expert singers. From this point through to the end of the description of the group in § 89 they are engaged in song, except for an interruption for the actual eating of the food. In terms of how Philo presents things, the songs sandwich the food between music, moving from individual singing before the meal, to genderdivided singing, afterwards, and then finally to communal singing in a throng. Musicality was a feature of ancient Pythagoreanism (Iamblichus, Vita Pythag. 64–67; 110–115) but Chaeremon also states that the Egyptian priests “sang hymns to the gods three or four times” every day (Porphyry, Abst. 4.8). The answer to this is that the Therapeutae are even more musically gifted. Philo makes mention of Jewish songs of praise several times in his work (Det. 114; Agr. 79–82; Plant. 126–131; 255–256; 2.271; Spec. 1.193, 272; 2.199; Flacc. 121–124). That singing was a practice of the Alexandrian Jewish community is evidenced by Clement of Alexandria (Paed. 2.4). See discussion on Philo and music above on §29. Detailed Comments (§80) So then, after standing up, he sings a hymn composed for God The envisaged speaker has hitherto been sitting down, but he stands now to sing a hymn for God. This detail shows care in defining exactly what is done: singing “to God” a hymn composed for God.

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either a new one he has composed himself or an old one, some hymn of the poets of ancient times This returns us to §29 where it is mentioned that each person is involved in musical composition in their private dwellings, so the president can compose music just as others can, and perhaps even better than others. There is no essential difference between the new and the old, since both seem to be understood as being inspired. He may be singing one of the Psalms. The Psalms were understood to have been composed by David, but there were other biblical and extra-canonical songs. We will see below that the Therapeutae apparently not only sang the song of Moses in Exod 15 but they also had a song of Miriam. Solomon is said to have composed 1005 songs (1 Kgs 4:32). There is no distinction in terms of inspiration between the “poets of ancient times” and the newly inspired hymns here, but rather continuity. In the Testament of Job, Job sings hymns and praises to God (T. Job 14.1–5; 40.5; 52.2–5, 12) and his daughters sing in the language of angels (46–50; see van der Horst 1986). for they have left behind many metres and melodies of epic songs, trimetres, processional hymns, libation-songs, altar-songs, choral standing pieces, wellmeasured with beats and counter-beats They seem to have composed songs very suited to dancing, with particular beats. The diverse beats have already been mentioned in § 29. For a detailed explanation of this section in terms of the musical terms used, see the study by Jeffery (2004, 164–165). Jeffery notes that there are ritualistic rhythms defined here: trimetres are “iambic lines with three metra, with each metron consisting of two iambic feet”; “processional hymns” (προσοδία) are designed for approaching the altar for sacrifices. On arrival at an altar a paean was sung, which might be covered by an “altar song” (παραβωμία meaning “beside the altar”) and “libation-songs” (παρασπονδεία) indicates the spondaic metre of songs sung with a wine libation (σπόνδης, see Jeffery 2003, 166). For “altar-songs” (παραβωμίων) Colson (PLCL 9:524) notes that no other ancient text associates this music with a type of metre. One minor qualification to Jeffery’s suggestions is “epic song” (ἔπος) rather than “verse”, from the adjective “epic” (ἐπικός), which relates to a form of (sung) poetry in dactylic hexametre. This connects the term with what Philo has just said about metres. Such terms would have recalled common Graeco-Roman musical practice, though it is hard to know how much the Greek terms might have been used among Jews as well for Temple practices. “Choral standing pieces” (στασίμων χορικῶν) implies not only choral singing but rhythms being suited to dancing, and later on in the evening Philo will describe at length the dancing of the men and women. The women and men will dance and sing for a while in separ-

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ate choral groups, but finally the groups will merge and become one group of singer-dancers. The model for this later on will be the singing and dancing of the men and women of Israel at the Crossing of the Red Sea (Exod 15), which was for Philo the Passover, but here it does seem that practices of the Temple are in view. The hymns directly allude to the Temple (heavenly or earthly or both) because there is something about this celebration that is designed to be situated in relationship to it, since at the end of the singing the juniors bring in a table that represents the table of the shewbread in the Temple, though they do not try to copy it completely (§81, cf. Exod 25:23–30; 35:13; 37:10–16; 39:36; Lev 24.5–9; cf. Num 4:7; 1Kgs 7:48; 2Chr 3:19; 13:11; 29:18). On the table of shewbread the loaves are a permanent offering to God, made by Levites (1 Chr 9:31; 23:28– 29). This is thus a “sacred symposium” (§71) appropriate for a meal shared by ministers of God (see Taylor 2003, 302–303). Meters accompanied divine oracles in the Graeco-Roman world, with a preference for dactylic hexametre, along with also iambic trimetre, iambic tetrametre, trochaic tetrametre and anapestic tetrametre, and the Sibylline Oracles were likewise written in dactylic hexametre (Aune 1983, 50–51). The Delphic Pythia and Sibyls provided oracles in hexametres (Aune 1983, 37). Josephus notes that Moses composed the Song of the Sea in hexametre form (A.J. 2.346), and that he composed again in hexametre verse after giving the law (A.J. 4.303). We are not told anything about the lyrics or the thoughts expressed in the songs. As Philo noted, God was surrounded by a choir of angels (e.g., Fug. 62), and therefore in the mystical work of the Hekhalot Rabbati (Synopse 94), it is said one must sing to enter the divine chariot. Jews were very conscious of the beats of the Psalms. Josephus also states that David “composed songs and hymns to God of several kinds of metre; some of those which he produced were trimetres, and some pentametres. He also made musical instruments, and taught the Levites to sing hymns to God, both on the day called Sabbath, and on other festivals” (A.J. 7.305). This is extremely useful here, since we learn from this that Levites had a tradition of singing and playing instruments on the Sabbath, as well as on other festival days. This ties in the practice of the Therapeutae with the actions of the Levites in the Temple on Sabbaths, which connects with other cultic resonances of their practice as described in the treatise (see Deutsch 2006). In the Temple, there was a specific role for the Levites as singers (1Chr 9:33; 25:7–31; 2 Chr 5:12). It is not that clear what the Levites sang in terms of their whole repertoire, even though Josephus indicates that they included the psalms of David. Liturgical hymns in general may be illuminated somewhat by the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice (4Q400–407; 11Q17) found in nine copies among the Dead Sea Scrolls, designed to be used in a Temple context over the first 13 Sabbaths of each

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(solar) year, which strongly connect the workings of the heavenly Temple with the Temple on earth. and after him also the others, according to grades, in order, take turns, everyone listening in total silence except when they need to sing the closing lines and refrains. For then all men and all women sing aloud. As with the singing of the president everyone now (stands up and) sings a hymn to God, presumably also either an old or a new one. The president’s speech (lecture) and song, is followed by a period of individual singing, led off by the president himself. This was apparently quite common at Greek symposia (Jeffery 2003, 165, and see Plato, Symp. 176s, 181a, 214b; Xenophon, Symp. 3.1). Standhartinger (2017, 75) points out that the songs replace the conversations we would normally expect at this stage of the symposium. Philo distinctly notes at the end of the paragraph that all the men and all the women take part. Individuals sing while the rest listen quietly, though the whole group joins in singing refrains or final lines. How long all this would take can only be guessed at, but there is no sign of rushing and haste to get to the food. It may also be an indicator that in fact this group is not composed of very many people, for everyone to have a turn at singing. The “others” are all the seniors who are reclining ready to eat the meal, but may also include the juniors. For the expression “closing lines and refrains” (ἀκροτελεύτια καὶ ἐφύμια), Daumas and Miquel (1963, 140–141) note that ἀκροτελεύτια is explained in a scholiast to Thucydides (Hist. 2.17) which reads “end of the line” (τέλος τοῦ στίχοῦ). At any rate, it seems that there are parts of the song that are known to the audience: closing lines and refrains that everyone needs to sing together. These are known whether these are old or new songs. Some of these songs must have been very well-known to the group, if they were familiar psalms from Scripture.

H

Modesty §§81–82

The music that has been introduced in §80 is now interrupted by the meal. After a period in which the president sings a song, followed by everyone individually doing so, with common singing of refrains and closing lines, the group finally eat. A table is brought in, on which there is the same food described earlier as their diet (§37, §73). The focus is on plainness, but it is also designated as holy food. However, in deference to the table of shewbread in the Temple, this is not an exact replica, despite the cultic resonances at work here: this shows the group’s modesty.

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Detailed Comments (§81) When each one has completed the hymn Philo emphasizes here that each one (ἕκαστος) has to complete the process of singing “the hymn,” as if “the hymn” is an order of the symposium here. Each one (who eats?) has to do this. the juniors bring in the table mentioned a little earlier. On this is the most holy food: leavened bread with a seasoning of salts, mixed with hyssop In terms of the translation, Colson erroneously translates the word “table” (τράπεζαν) in the plural (Colson PLCL 9:163). The word παναγέστατον does not mean either “truly purified” (Colson) or “all-purest” (Conybeare) but “all-hallowed” (LSJ 1295), with a Latin meaning of sacrosanctus, thus “most holy.” Introducing the concept of purity to the meal in the translations when it is not in the Greek seems particularly misleading. While this is “most holy food” (παναγέστατον σιτίον) and in some way looking to the Temple and the table of shewbread, it is distinguished, according to what Philo states next. For further on the cultic associations of the food see the study by McGowan (2014) and below. In §81 Philo has not specifically distinguished the salt from the salt and hyssop mixture. But Philo has already mentioned: “On this [table] for food there are loaves of bread and an accompaniment of salts, with which there is sometimes hyssop seasoning prepared, because of the daintier ones” (§ 73) and earlier in the treatise he has noted that on seventh days the Therapeutae eat nothing costly, but rather basic bread and a dish of salt, which the delicate prepare with hyssop (§37). He has also mentioned salts being part of the usual accompaniment of meals (§41). See the comments on these passages above. In distinction to the unleavened Passover and Temple bread, it is specifically stated that in the food eaten in this symposium there are leavened loaves, ἄρτος ἐζυμωμένος, and salts that are mixed with hyssop (cf. §§ 37 and 73). Hyssop was a medicinal plant specifically not permitted as Sabbath food by the rabbis (m. Shab. 14:3), as discussed above in §37, since there may be a sense of its curative properties leading to the work of a cure on the Sabbath day (Doering 2008, 233); therefore, to have it consumed by the Therapeutae as part of food designated as being appropriate for the Sabbath of Sabbaths is quite distinctively a different interpretation. The juniors who bring in the table are carrying a load on the Sabbath (Taylor 2003, 139–140) but if it is from an adjoining room in the house it would be acceptable even by rabbinic standards, and it is in fact unclear what Sabbath norms were in place in Alexandria (see m. Shab. 7:2).

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out of deference to the arrangements of the sacred table in the holy vestibule [of the Temple sanctuary]. For upon this table are loaves and salts without seasoning; the loaves are unleavened, the salts are unmixed. The words “out of deference” (δι’ αἰδῶ) meaning literally “in modesty,” and that sense of group modesty should be remembered. The word “modesty” is used in § 33 in regard to the women of the community. The wall is in their common sanctuary is created so that “the proper modesty in the womanly nature be protected.” The group as a whole here are also being modest in not wishing to emulate exactly the allotted priests who have the reward of eating from the table of shewbread. This reference does nevertheless create a reference point in the vestibule of the Temple sanctuary, while taking away an exact correlation with the table of shewbread (McGowan 2014, cf. Taylor 2003, 304–310). It is respected by these ministers of God, ensuring that both the bread and the salts are distinguished from what the priests and Levites consume in the Temple, and yet the food of the Temple is also somehow the model for what is eaten in this meal, as if this is the foundation for their practice, interpreted allegorically and manifested in a real meal. This linkage with what the priests do in the Temple is already found in §§73–74, where Philo states that the Therapeutae, like priests, avoid wine: “For just as right reason dictates sobriety for the priests sacrificing, so also for those living this lifestyle.” Philo seems in §§81–82 to be saying that the Therapeutae are very careful about observing at the literal level of their food a digestible and visual distinction between themselves and priests in the Temple who eat of the table of shewbread, to avoid claiming a reward that is not designated as being for them, despite the holiness of their food, and for the sake of modesty. And yet there is the model of the priests in the Temple acting as a comparison. (§82) For it was fitting that the plainest and most unadulterated food be allotted to the best part of the priests as a reward for services Here the past tense of the verb “to be,” signals that there is a rationale for their model is based in respect for the law as defined by Moses, which was fitting as a decision given that such food is designated as being as a reward for services to allotted priests for their “services”: the word λειτουγίας is specifically related to cultic services (Diodorus Siculus, Bibl. 1.21; LXX Num 8:25; Luke 1:23, see Graffigna 1992, 157). The concepts at work here are cultic (Geoltrain 1960, 20; Deutsch 2006). However, the Therapeutae—ministers of God—are not trying to do exactly what priests do in the sanctuary: the loaves on the table of shewbread have no intermixed yeast (Josephus, A.J. 3.255), or hyssop, and the table can therefore be distinguished as not being an exact replica.

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The Therapeutae emulate priestly life, while not claiming exactly to be actual priests serving in the Temple. Philo notes also that for those undertaking a Nazirite vow, they are “considering that time (of the vow) to be priestly, since those who serve among the priests quench their thirst with water” (Spec. 1:249). One may wonder then whether the Therapeutae themselves have taken a Nazirite vow (and see Cacciari 2003). and that the others seek similar things, but hold off from them, so that their betters have precedence. The “others” (τοὺς ἄλλους) would be the other part of the priests and all the Levites in the Temple, who do not eat of the table of shewbread, and these then collectively provide the model for the Therapeutae, interpreted allegorically. The small number of priests, the “best part,” who were engaged in sacred duties in the Temple vestibule, are designated as being the only ones who eat of this table of shewbread food (Lev 24:8–9). “The others” do not, but we have already had an allusion to these others in §74, which provides this model of the Therapeutae ministering like sacrificing priests. The sanctuary of the Temple was divided into two parts: the vestibule (pronaos) and the inner Holy of Holies, situated to the west (see plan in Taylor 2003, 305). The table of shewbread, the tabernacle menorah and incense altar were defined as sacred objects within the vestibule area. On the other side, in front of the Holy of Holies, there was a curtain (Exod 26:33; cf. m. Yoma 5:1; m. Shek. 8:5). This vestibule was to be only accessed by priests and anyone not a priest—even a Levite—who went into the sanctuary would die (Num 18:3). On the table of shewbread there were 12 loaves, an everlasting covenant to be eaten only by “Aaron and his sons” (Lev 24:8–9), the priests, yet only when they were allotted to this. In LXX Lev 24:7 salt is prescribed as being eaten with the loaves (cf. Mos. 2.104). Therefore, it is not that the Therapeutae exactly imitate the priests who are eating from the table of shewbread, but that the Therapeutae recognize the model of their meal in that of the table of shewbread while modifying it, deferring to the allotted priests and their roles as defined in Scripture, out of modesty. These allotted priests are, in terms of access to holiness, “their betters” (οἱ κρείττονες) as they understand them. It is not clear though how in fact they understand these priests: literally, allegorically, or both (and for Philo’s own allegorical explorations of the table of shewbread see QE 2.72; Mos. 2.104; Spec. 1.172–173). Entering the tabernacle for Philo represents only the very heights of spirituality: in Det. 160 (cf. Ebr. 100) the tabernacle is away from the “camp” of the body, because “only by this may he (Moses) hope to be a perfect suppliant (ἱκέτης) and minister (θεραπεθτής) of God.” By this reading, the Therapeutae of

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Contempl. might avoid creating an exact replica of the table of shewbread for fear of it appearing that they are claiming perfection, counting themselves as ones worthy of entering the tabernacle that represents complete closeness to God. Their pattern is set by the laws of Moses, as written in Scripture, interpreted and translated into their own practice. However, that the table of shewbread is mentioned at all in relation to the simple table brought into the dining room of the Therapeutae is striking, and it indicates a transmuting of cultic realities into their own meal-time setting. It is particularly striking when we consider that not only are these people not—in terms of their heritage—priest and Levites actually, but also are male and female (cf. Taylor 2004). The ideal of divine service that governs their practice is open to anyone regardless of gender, because it is fundamentally spiritual.

I

Piety §§83–89

We now reach the final part of the treatise, which is a kind of crescendo. The treatise ends with the image of the Therapeutae singing and dancing together, first as two choirs—led by a male and female choir leader as Moses and Miriam respectively led the Israelites in song after the crossing of the Red Sea—and then finally as one choir together. This is described as being a kind of orderly inspired action, going on all through the night until the dawn, a sober intoxication which is indicative of truly mindful awareness of the realities of God. This final part emphasizes that everything the Therapeutae do is about piety (§ 88). After they have concluded their night-time festive event in celebration of the Sabbath of Sabbaths, they go back to their usual “work” of philosophy, after a prayer together when they see the sun rising. In this way, as Brumberg-Kraus (2014) notes, Philo avoids the conflicts over competing ideas one finds as a rule in the sympotic dialogue. The Therapeutae are in unity rather than disunity. Detailed Comments (§83) After the dinner they hold the sacred all-night event. The all-night event is held in this way. The “sacred event” (ἱερός) is distinguished from the holy meal (δεῖπνον), and begins after the meal has concluded. It is the sixth stage in the entire Sabbath of Sabbaths celebration. The entire series of stages of movement are clearly distinguished by Philo, with remarkable detail provided at each point:

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(1) everyone enters the dining room (symposion), and, when one of the “dailies” gives a sign, everyone arranges themselves standing in order, with their arms stretched up to heaven in prayer (§ 66), (2) the senior members/ elders recline on dining couches, in proper order, separated into male and female sections (§§ 67–68), though the juniors remain standing in order to serve the others (§§ 70–72, § 75), (3) the president presents an exegetical discourse, while reclining or sitting (§§75–76), while the seniors recline and the juniors stand (§ 77), after which the audience applauds (§79), (4) the president stands up to sing a hymn, followed by every other member, who stands to do likewise, with everyone joining in with refrains (§ 80), (5) the senior members then continue to recline to eat the meal, which the juniors bring in on a table (§81) (6) the meal ends and “the sacred event” begins, with everyone (presumably seniors and juniors) going into the open middle of the room, but dividing into two choirs of men and women (§83) It is not entirely clear how this maps on to what is normally expected in a Graeco-Roman symposium. Standhartinger (2017) has suggested that the singing of the president, followed by songs from all the other diners, parallels what would be a welcome speech and then normal conversation during the meal. The usual libation and drinking is replaced by the Therapeutae moving into the middle of the room to sing. The entertainment, with further drinking, is replaced by participation in singing and dancing. Philo uses the term for all-night event, an “all-nighter” (παννυχὶς), twice in this paragraph and nowhere else in the treatise, though he uses it in two other passages in his writings: Cher. 92 and Legat.12. While LSJ 1298 defines the term as “night-festival, vigil” perhaps being informed by Philo here, in Cher. 92 the term is also used to describe bad banquets. In Legat. 12 the term is used to refer to “all-night frolics with harp and flutes,” as part of the merry-making and celebrations which marked the beginning of Caligula’s reign. Thus, nowhere else does Philo use the term to designate Jewish or any sort of religious events or ceremonies in a sacred way; it is a term of partying, and therefore is used here to highlight how different this particular “all-nighter” was. That something very holy is being celebrated at night is in fact a reversal of what he has stated in §§34–35 where the night-time is appropriate for the needs of the body. The meal represents that, in terms of bodily sustenance, but what follows is something different. In the context Philo does not seem to suggest that this climatic stage of the Sabbath of Sabbaths celebration involves any watching or waiting for something in the future, and therefore the term “vigil” (so Colson PLCL 9:165) is

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not really an appropriate translation. Interestingly, Josephus describes the celebration after the Crossing of the Red Sea (A.J. 2.346, see below) as going on all night, which then sets the pattern for this event, but in the biblical text of Exod 15 this is not said. They all stand up together and, firstly, they become two choirs in the middle of the dining room (sumposion): the one of men, and the other of women. The activity of singing in chorus is associated with celebration. In 3 Macc. 6:32 those delivered from the persecution of Ptolemy VI Philopator “formed choirs as a sign of peaceful joy” (χοροὺς συνίσταντο εὐφροσύνης εἰρηνικῆς σημεῖον; cf. Esth 9:18–26; 1Macc 4.56; 7.59; 13.50; 2Macc 10:6; 15:36). In Flacc. 121–122 Jews in Alexandria sing hymns and songs of praise all night long. The actual dining has ended and the sacred event now begins. Klinghardt (2014, 26) notes that in a usual symposium there would be a transition from eating to drinking marked by a libation. All the members stand up together and form two choirs standing in the middle of the dining room. It cannot be the same space they have met for the Sabbath teaching, since in the former space, designated as a semneion, or “sanctuary,” there is a dividing wall in the middle, and seating (see discussion in Taylor 2003, 283). The word sumposion (συμπόσιον) is slightly ambiguous in that it can mean both a dinner event as a whole (i.e., the symposium) and the room in which this dinner event takes place. Here it is clearly the latter meaning. Such a room is found only in the villas of wealthy people, who might even have two (P.Ryl. 2.233, from c. 118 CE). As reflected in the portrayal of §§40–63, it was usually assumed in Hellenistic contexts that it was men who participated in these dinner events (see Alston 1997, 36; Smith 2003, 25). The inclusion of women in the symposium is clearly something that Philo feels he needs to address, in an apologetic way, ensuring that they do not in any way appear unseemly, given models of philosophical woman who could be condemned for loose behaviour (see Taylor 2003, 173–226). The actions Philo describes nevertheless create a dissonance in terms of what Philo has established before in regard to gender. Previously, Philo has been very careful to have men and women separated, so that the women are kept apart from the men in both the teaching space (§ 33) and the dining room (§68): they learn separately and they eat separately. The underlying apology is one of concession, so that it is as if Philo is stating: “women also are there, but only because …” The women are extremely unusual and exemplary, in being highly modest, very spiritual/philosophical, old, celibate. It is not an inherently good thing that women are included. Ideally, Philo may have wished to continue this and have a different dining room for the women, separated out so that they are not seen by the men,

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but Philo’s construction breaks down given their actual practice. It is clear that there is one dining room and not any separate room for men and another for women. Moreover, within this one room there is a central open space (between the two areas where the couches are arranged) where the men and women now assemble (and probably assembled to pray at the start), even if still in two separate choirs. In this post-meal assembly we have the first stage, hence “firstly” (τὸ πρῶτον), in a progression that will lead to the erosion of male and female apartness, and women’s inherent modesty is not mentioned any longer. The moment Philo introduced the fact of women eating together with the men, he has told us that they are mostly aged virgins (§ 68). The reason he has done this now becomes clear, because the action he describes in regard to the singing (and dancing) in the “all-nighter” might well appear to his opponents as something dangerously close to a type of unmeasured ecstatic celebration that is anything but decent (see Taylor 2003, 311–340), if the audience were to imagine young (attractive) women, overall. We have just learned that there are some hints at a cultic reality in regard to the sacred meal, though it is oddly distinguished from exactly replicating the table of shewbread (given that there is normally no need to even mention this); now, again, the assembly seems to be reminiscent of the levitical singers, and we lead on from individual singing before the meal to joint singing after it. The Therapeutae, as ministers of God, are engaged in singing more of the songs from old poets or new ones, with new songs being the manifestation of their own spiritual inspiration (Isa 42:10; Rev 5:9, cf. Ps 33:1–22; 40:3; 96:1–13; 98:1). A leader and chief is chosen for each, one most honoured and most musical. Each choral group has its own musical director, what Colson (PLCL 9:165) translates as “leader and precentor.” The word “precentor” in the English cathedral tradition means the cleric responsible for the direction of the choral services. The words in Greek are more general. The roles are of “leader” (ἡγεμὼν, LSJ 763) and “chief” (ἔξαρχος, LSJ 588), two masculine terms in which a leading woman, for the women’s choir, is also implicitly indicated. It is not clear that Philo intends a distinction between the two terms; probably both are simply synonyms for “leader.” There is no suggestion here or elsewhere that the choral leaders have any other duties. This role itself is of utmost importance. Each choral leader has been chosen because they are “the most honoured and most musical.” The term “most musical” might refer to the person most able to sing accurately in tune and rhythm, or the term might allude to a person with the highest expertise in musical theory (perhaps something like a Pythagorean theory), but the concept of being “musical” seems to relate to spiritual inspiration also, probably manifested by their compositions. This is

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because we will learn in due course that these leaders, one of the male choir and one of the female choir, are in some way configured as being in place of Moses and Miriam, leading the men and women respectively in song after the crossing of the Red Sea (Exod 15), and thus the mention of those chosen being “most honoured” is significant. These are highly honoured positions in the group and they link with the most highly esteemed of all prophets, male and female. (§84) Then they sing hymns to God composed of many metres and melodies This refers back to what has already been said of their musical compositions, both in terms of new work and that of “poets of ancient times.” They have already stood and sung individually before the meal, starting off with the president (§§80–81), and now they join together in group singing. As before also the songs have many metres and melodies, indicating their musical expertise and enjoyment of these. sometimes they sound together, sometimes there are clapping hands and tapping feet, in antiphonal harmonies The Greek wording in this section is full of assonance and alliteration, so that we are made to sense the rhythms of the music, particularly using the consonants π, τ, μ and σ. The clapping and foot tapping is indicated by the words “clapping hands” (ἐπιχειρονομοῦντες) and “tapping feet” (ἐπορχούμενοι). As Daumas and Miquel (1963, 142) note, the word ἐπιχειρονομέω is only found in Philo (here, and in Deus 174; Spec. 4.215; Legat. 354). The words “antiphonal harmonies” (ἀντιφώνοις ἁρμονίαις) have been discussed by Peter Jeffery, who sees in such singing practices an influence on early Christian music. Jeffery (2003, 170–172) suggests that the antiphons are actually songs sung an octave apart. As they sing, their hands and feet move, Colson has: “keeping time in accompaniment” (165). But this addition is probably too wooden. They are clapping, tapping feet and probably dancing as they sing, since there is previous reference to choral singing and dancing that recalls the singing of choruses in processions and in stationary positions in cultic contexts (§ 80), and see below. and then they conjure up processing choruses, then there are stationary ones, The viewer (Philo?), observing, sees how the two choruses “conjure up” (ἐπιθειάζοντες), images of choirs that sing in procession and remain stationary in one place, though probably with the idea of them dancing either way. The word “stationary ones” (στάσιμα, an accusative plural with προσόδια being direct objects of ἐπιθειάζοντες) is explained in LSJ 1634 (στάσιμος b.) as indicating a choral

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song, sung by the chorus when stationary, but dancing was often implicit in such chorus songs. as they make both turns and counter-turns in choral dancing. The word “choral dancing” (χορεία) is used in C-W on the basis of the Armenian text; while the Greek manuscripts have “necessaries” (χρεία). That the singing is not just a formal one, with reserved composure, is clearly indicated here. The singers clap, tap, and start dancing along with their singing. Dancing in celebration is in the Septuagint associated with the Israelites singing and dancing around the Golden Calf (LXX Exod 32:6: cf. 32:19). As with singing, dancing is also part of a celebration: David and the people dance before the ark of the covenant (2Sam 6:5, 14, 16). It is part of liturgical expression (Neh 12:27; Song 7:1, see Daumas and Miquel 1963, 143) and is assumed on other occasions (Ps 30:12; 149:3; 150:4; 1Chron 13:8; Jud 15:12–13; 3Macc 6:32, 35; m. Sukk. 5:4). Philo speaks of such dancing in Conf. 35; Mos. 1:180, 255; Praem. 53. It is most especially associated with Miriam’s song in Exod 15:19, at least for the women, and it seems that the dancing of the women following Miriam is the pattern for all who celebrate on the Sabbath of Sabbath days among the Therapeutae. Klinghardt (2014) notes how unusual it was in the context of Graeco-Roman symposia for the participants themselves to dance, rather than watch dancing. The singing and dancing seem to replace what would normally be the drinking time, though also the after-dinner entertainments watched by the diners. (§85) Then when each of the choirs of the men by themselves and the women by themselves has been satisfied by itself and from the other For the reading of χορῶν, given by C-W, see Textual Notes. Each of the choirs “has been satisfied” or more accurately “has been feasted” (ἑστιαθῇ). Its form is an Aorist subjunctive passive, indicating a metaphorical concept of the choirs which are feasted on their own singing and by the singing of the other choir, the music being food they eat, or rather the drink they imbibe, as the next clause explains. The verb for feasting (ἑστιάω) has already been used twice in this treatise, in §35 and §57. In §35 Philo says that some Therapeutae are so feasted on the truths supplied by Wisdom (in their solitary hut study) that they eat only after six days. In §57 the Greek manuscripts have a form of the verb, while C-W and Colson prefer a noun form, but in any case the reference is to the banquet described by Xenophon. There is a balance between the male and female choirs. It is not suggested that the male choir is predominant and there are only a few women. They are providing their singing as food for both themselves and each other. This takes us back to previous mention of grasshoppers living on song (§ 36).

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having drunk, as in the Bacchic rites, the wine-cup of God-loving This now connects the singing and dancing directly with drinking wine, corresponding to the drinking part of the usual symposium, but this is now inspiration. In §12 Philo said that the Therapeutae are carried away by a heaven-sent passion of love and are possessed like Bacchic revellers or Corybants until they see the object of their yearning. In the earlier passage the love is evidently the love the Therapeutae feel for God, and in §85 the reference seems to be to persons who have drunk from the cup of “God-loving” (θεοφιλής, LSJ 792.II). In § 90 Philo will say also that they enjoy God’s friendship. Having drunk of the wine of God-loving, from all their singing and dancing to God, they (the men and women) mix together into one choir. In § 89 Philo will say that the Therapeutae are “drunk then until dawn with this beautiful intoxication, not heavy-headed or dozing, but roused more awake than when they came into the symposium.” This is sober intoxication at its finest (see below). The imagery of non-literal drunkenness suggests an ecstatic condition (§87) and echoes the language of §84. The comparison with Bacchic rites also suggests a trance-like condition, arising from the rhythms of the music, but trance-like conditions imply a hypnotic, sleepy, state and the Therapeutae have none of this. The reference to Bacchic rites is not a negative one. This is the only instance of the term “Bacchic rites” (βακχεία) in all of Philo’s writings. He uses the verb βακχεύω, however, in several other passages: Ebr. 123, 146; Her. 69, Somn. 2.205 and Contempl. 12, without negative associations. There are associations here with Plato, in the well-known discussion on divine madness (μανίᾳ) in the Phraedrus, in which the inspired person (ἐνθουσιάζων: 241e, 249e, 253a, 263d) is gripped by intense love, Dionysian frenzy, oracular prophecy and poetic composition (244b–245a). In Phaedrus 69c, Plato writes that “there are many who bear the thyrsus, but few Bacchai,” referring to this inspired state. Philo is concerned to note is the religious devotion rising to an ecstatic state in both the pagan Bacchic cults and among the Therapeutae. It remains surprising how readily he makes this positive comparison, without a hint of embarrassment despite his sometimes brutal castigations of Graeco-Egyptian religion and philosophy in earlier parts of this treatise, and it seems possible only because of his employment of the language of Plato. Philo seems to use the example of the possessed maenad, linking the term “maenad” (Euripides, Bacch. 695) with the word mania (Plant. 148). He is indebted to the notions of divine madness promoted by Plato (Apol. 22c; Meno 99c; Ion. 533d–534e; Tim. 71e; Phaedr. 244b). Nevertheless, this image is risky, given Roman associations of Bacchic mysteries with eroticism. In House of the Mysteries in Pompeii there are undressed women engaged in rather dubious

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activities. At least in the 2nd century BCE, the Bacchic cult had bad associations (Livy, Hist. 39.8–19). An inscribed bronze tablet found in South Italy preserves the text of a senatorial decree showing that the Senate wished to regulate its activities in 186 BCE (see Beard, North and Price, 1998, i, 93–95, ii, 290–291). This was apparently for the very reason of men and women mingling in “the freedom of darkness” (Livy, Ann. 39.13). Nevertheless, by the 1st century BCE and later there do seem to have been more formal and public Dionysiac/Bacchic celebrations, celebrated in many Greek cities and popular among women (Diodorus Siculus, Lib. 4.3:3). In Alexandria, the Dionysiac cult was associated with Serapis and the Ptolemaic dynasty (Fraser 1972, i.198–202), as a kind of state cult (see Legat. 82–83 and Introduction, p. 20). Philo had dismissed the myths of the demi-gods in §6, but the ideal of inspiration was positive. For Philo, inspiration was a good thing, if it was the right kind of inspiration, focused on the true God (cf. Her. 69). they intermingle and become one choir from both This is the final stage in the movement begun with the definition of their “first” being two choirs, with each their own leader: a man and a woman (§ 83). Now there is one. Male and female are conjoined, yet the mixing of the sexes in the chorus suggests nothing of impropriety or bodily contact. Choirs were a part of many religious ceremonies in the ancient world, and it does seem that while most choral singing was done by men and boys, women and girls could also form separate choirs, and mixed choirs were known (Marrou 1956, 135–136). This was not unheard of, but it is still a remarkable thing given what Philo has stated up until this point in terms of gender relations. Male and female are now blended in an ecstatic state. However, this does not actual indicate physical contact (contra Klinghardt 2014), because Philo seems clear in showing that the intermingling is one of voices, not bodies. Ferguson (2014) notes that there is no musical instrument noted here, which would have been a violation of Sabbath work restrictions (b. Sukk. 50b–51a; t. Shabb. 13). a copy of the one of old established by the Red Sea, on account of the astonishing acts there. This common choir is now directly linked to an action of liberation and salvation, to the miraculous deliverance of crossing the Red Sea, which led the Israelite men and women to form a single choir singing hymns of thanksgiving to God. The singing and dancing is designed to recall that of Moses and Miriam in Exod 15 (see below) an action that Philo refers to elsewhere in Leg. 2.102– 103; Plant. 48; Sobr. 13. Philo uses the term “copy” (μίμημα) in 66 other passages,

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though not elsewhere in Contempl. He says the robe of the high priest is a copy of the universe (Spec. 1.84). The breastpiece of the costume is a “copy of heaven” (Spec. 1.94). The spring equinox is a copy of the epoch in which the world was created (Spec. 2.151). Cherubim guard Paradise with a sword of flame, and when Abraham takes “fire and knife” to Mount Moriah (Gen 22:6) it is as a copy of that flaming sword. In this and other passages, Philo seems to use μίμημα in a largely Platonic sense to mean something that has an intrinsic or essential relationship to something else. From this we may reasonably infer that the dance of the Therapeutae is understood by them to participate in the “original pattern” of the singing and dancing under Moses and Miriam. This is an extremely important indication from Philo about the religious thought and orientation of this community. Their sacred event is in some way also a Crossing of the Sea festival, what Standhartinger (2017, 76) calls “sympotic theatre.” Their dance is a joyous celebration of that event, and they identify their united choir with what is led by Moses and Miriam. However, a unified choir is not quite what we find in the biblical text: Exodus 15 speaks of Moses leading the Israelites (LXX οἱ υἱοὶ Ισραηλ, “the sons of Israel”) in a song of deliverance (15:1) and of Miriam leading “all the women” in dancing, while Miriam sings to them a song like the one Moses and the Israelites sang (15:21– 22), but Exodus does not explicitly say that the men and women formed a single choir. It is the two separate choirs, each with their own leader, that should actually replicate the two choirs of male and female Israelites led by Moses and Miriam respectively. We had this at the start, but Philo indicates a transition, to a combination of the two choirs now. Yet Philo says that the united male-and-female choir of the Therapeutae is a copy of the single male-and-female choir of old beside the Red Sea (cf. Mos. 1.180)—though he adds that the men in the single choir were still led by Moses and the women by Miriam (§87). Thus, it seems then that Philo observes that the two leaders of both choirs of the Therapeutae combined in a male-andfemale leadership of the single male-and-female choir. It should be noted that this interpretation of the singing and dancing at the Red Sea is on the level of literal exegesis: there was such a choir, of old, and this choir imitates it. However, the liberation from Egypt, the Passover, which for Philo is identified with the crossing of the Red Sea (Pearce 2007, 125, cf. Leg. 3.94, 172) features as a major symbol of the defeat of the passions (e.g., Leg. 2.102–103; 3.13, 94, 154; Agr. 83; Ebr. 79; Sobr. 13; Somn. 2.270; Sacr. 63; cf. Congr. 106; Her. 255; Migr. 151, 154; Post. 155–157). The Therapeutae’s choir, formed by a group of allegorists, would therefore seek to be a copy in terms of their singing praises to God in an inspired state of love, but also reflect central tenets of the community, based on allegorical exegesis.

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One may also consider the use of the crossing of the sea in the Wisdom of Solomon 10:15–17, in which there is a song-like praise of Wisdom (Sophia), in a context showing the reward of the virtuous (see Childs 2004, 230–231): She brought them across the Red Sea, leading them through an immensity of water, whereas she drowned their enemies, and spat them out from the depths of the abyss. So the upright despoiled the godless; Lord, they extolled your holy name, and with one accord praised your protecting hand; for Wisdom opened the mouths of the dumb and made eloquent the tongues of babes. New Jerusalem Bible

In Contempl. the Sabbath of Sabbaths festival is blended with the Passover, as defined at least by Philo. The distinctiveness of Philo’s notion of what the Passover means may be found in QE 1.4, in which Philo enumerates the deeper meaning. As for souls: when they begin to give up the pursuits of youth and their terrible disorder and they change to a better and older state. And so our mind should change from ignorance and stupidity to education and wisdom, and from intemperance and dissoluteness to patience and moderation, and from fear and cowardice to courage and confidence, and from avarice and injustice to justice and equality. And there is still another Passover of the soul beside this, which is its making the sacrifice of passing over from the body; and there is one of the mind [namely, its passing over] from the senses; and as for thoughts [their passing over consists] in one’s not being taken with oneself but in willing thinking further of desiring and emulating prophetic souls. quoted from Marcus, PLCL Suppl. II, 10–11

This passage clearly shows how much the Passover was for Philo the passing over of Israel from Egypt through the Red Sea, rather than the passing over Israel of the angel of death in Exodus 12. The ending of the crossing of the Sea focuses on the emulating of prophetic souls directly and this coheres with the inspired state of the Therapeutae here described, with its identification of the leadership model of Moses and Miriam (§87).

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(§86) For by the command of God the sea became a cause of salvation to some, but of destruction to others. For when it was split apart and drawn away by violent undercurrents, and on each opposing side it was like solid walls, the space in between widened into a highway road all cleared up and dry, through which the people walked to the opposite shore, conveyed to the higher places. When the sea had rushed back with contrary currents, both on one side and on the other, and was poured out into the dried bottom, those of the enemies pursuing them were submerged and perished. The whole of §86 is a vivid telling of the story of the crossing of the Red Sea, which was—as noted above (§85)—the Passover for Philo. It is common in Philo to have a re-telling of an account in the Pentateuch, followed by allegorical exegesis, often interspersed with quotations. Here we do not have the latter part of allegorical exegesis, but it seems implicit. In Philo “Egypt” itself is the “land of the body” (see Pearce 2007, 81–128), and Pharaoh is the “leader of the company devoted to the passions” (Somn. 2.277); thus, the passions of “Egypt” are destroyed in the sea (Somn. 2.278–282). Pharaoh is also the overly proud mind, and Moses celebrated the destruction of this in the Song of the Sea (Ebr. 111). It would cohere with what we know of the lifestyle of the Therapeutae if there too celebrated their redemption from “Egypt,” namely the body’s passions, and the overly proud mind. The mention of “enemies” in the last few words indicates the destruction of enemy forces that would seek to injure those who love God. The fact that Philo is recounting this story implies that the audience did not know it. He needs to tell “of the astonishing acts” (τῶν θαυματουργηθέντων). The Therapeutae are designated as those who were saved, with enemies consumed by the waves, and the details of this story are recounted, though without any context. Apart from the introductory term “Red Sea” in § 85 the passage says nothing about where or when the event took place, and it probably does presume some prior knowledge about the significance of the Passover for Jews, but here the focus is on the actions of God in destroying the opposing forces of Israel. Philo uses the account of the LXX without quoting it word for word. Whereas the Greek biblical text reads: “and let the children of Israel enter into the midst of the sea on the dry land” (καὶ εἰσελθάτωσαν οἱ υἱοὶ Ισραηλ εἰς μέσον τῆς θαλάσσης κατὰ τὸ ξηρόν, LXX Exod 14:16) and “he made the sea dry, and the water was divided” (ἐποίησεν τὴν θάλασσαν ξηράν, καὶ ἐσχίσθη τὸ ὕδωρ, LXX Exod 14:21). Philo uses only the adjective “dry” (ξηρός). The “sea” in Contempl. 86 is not the θαλάσση but the πέλαγος. The sentence “And the children of Israel went into the middle of the sea on the dry ground, and the water for them was a wall on the right hand and a wall

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on the left” (καὶ εἰσῆλθον οἱ υἱοὶ Ισραηλ εἰς μέσον τῆς θαλάσσης κατὰ τὸ ξηρόν, καὶ τὸ ὕδωρ αὐτοῖς τεῖχος ἐκ δεξιῶν καὶ τεῖχος ἐξ εὐωνύμων, LXX Exod 14:22), shares no vocabulary with Philo’s retelling apart from the word for “wall” (τεῖχος). His description is far more dramatic and visual, with the walls being described as “solid” (παγέντων), for example, which recalls the word ἐπάγη in the actual Song of the Sea in Exod 15:8 (LXX): “the water was stood up, the waters were solidified like a wall, the deeps were solidified in the midst of the sea” (διέστη τὸ ὕδωρ ἐπάγη ὡσεὶ τεῖχος τὰ ὕδατα ἐπάγη τὰ κύματα ἐν μέσῳ τῆς θαλάσσης). One interesting thing to note is in Exodus 14:21 (LXX) the crossing of the Red Sea takes place at night: a strong south wind keeps the sea divided “the whole night” (ὅλην τὴν νύκτα). This would then suit a night-time “copy” in terms of the Sabbath of Sabbaths evening celebrated by the Therapeutae. However, note that in Philo’s retelling, the sea is split apart and drawn away by violent undercurrents (ανακοπαῖς, LSJ 109), not by wind. Thus, the Therapeutae combine a celebration of the Passover, probably allegorically indicative of ridding the body of the passions, with the Sabbath of Sabbaths celebration in honour of Seven, so that they have a particular kind of holy event suited to their own interpretation of Scripture. The memory of the Crossing of the Sea is blended into the seventh day festival. Philo does not indicate that they disregard other festivals throughout the year here, but there is something quite profoundly unique in this particular festive event. (§87) After seeing and experiencing this Given that Philo himself sees the crossing of the Red Sea as the essential component of the Passover, it is quite striking that Philo uses the verb πάσχω for “experience” here. It acts as a kind of pun on the word Πάσχα, the Greek word for Passover. The Hebrew festival of Passover derives from the passing over of the angel of the Lord, from the Hebrew word pasakh, ‫פסח‬, “to pass over,” and the Greek word is actually just a simple transliteration, but this lent itself to the linkage with the verb πάσχω, meaning “to experience” or “to suffer.” which was a work surpassing word, thought or hope, both men and women alike, filled with inspiration This work of salvation is beyond telling, leading all of Israel—men and women—to experience an ecstatic state of inspiration, so that they sang hymns of thanksgiving. Philo has already (in §12) applied the verb “to be inspired” (ἐνθουσιάω) to the Therapeutae, saying that their love of God carries them away into this inspired state. The Therapeutae, like the ancient Israelites, somehow combine exaltation of mind and emotion with sufficient rational control to sing appropriate songs to God.

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becoming one choir, sang the hymns of thanksgiving to the Saviour God See above on §85. Philo writes in Contempl. that there was one choir with two hymns of thanksgiving, under the dual leadership of Moses and Miriam. In Agr. 79–82, also, Philo indicates there were hymns (in plural, Agr. 80), but actually Miriam repeats the Song of the Sea composed by Moses. In Contempl. the mixing to create one choir (χορὸς εἷς) out of the two separated choirs of men and women is different. In Agr.82 Philo clearly indicates that the biblical account describes two choirs (δύο … χοροί) not one, with Miriam leading the women in singing the same song sung by Moses. There was one song sung by two choirs and they sung in alternate refrains a melody that responded to one another’s voices (Agr. 79), which relates better to the model of the Therapeutae before they form one choir, in their first stage of singing. In Agr. Miriam represented sense-perception that has been rendered “pure and clean” and can therefore (despite being female), provide hymns and sing blessings to God, along with mind (Moses) (Agr. 80). Mind (Moses) is active in initiating and composing the song, as the lawgiver (νομοθέτης, 84, 86) and sense-perception (Miriam) provides an echoing response, in a subordinate place. There is no indication of the subordination of the women’s choir or the woman leading it in Contempl., in the first stage of the singing, and when they form one choir with the men they are likewise not identified as the ones doing the echoing. In De vita Mosis Philo states likewise that there were hymns of thanksgiving to God, not just one hymn, but this was one song (of Moses) sung by two choirs (Mos. 2.256–257). The hero is Moses, who divides up the Israelites into two (male and female) choirs (δύο χοροὺς), and Moses leads the men and appoints his sister to lead the women. The echoing women results in music with contrapuntal harmonies. The hymns sung are actually one song of Moses as “beginning … of the prophecies of Moses influenced by inspiration” (Mos. 2.258). Philo repeats that there are two choirs (δύο χοροὺς) in Mos. 2.257. Philo’s own position was then that there was one song (of Moses), sung by two choirs (headed by Moses and Miriam), which sang two hymns which were in fact bass and treble versions of the one song, with the women echoing the men. This is not what he describes as the practice or interpretation of the Therapeutae in their second stage of singing. Among them, the two choirs that initially adopted this model have collapsed into one, yet still with two leaders of male and female sections. In Mos. the point is it is Moses’s first instance of prophetic inspiration, but in describing the Red Sea event in Contempl. 87 Philo writes that “both men and women alike, filled with inspiration, becoming one choir, sang the hymns of thanksgiving to the Saviour God:” the locus of inspiration is the men and women of Israel, rather than Moses the prophet. This prefigures Joel 3:1–2, when young and old, male and female, would be filled with God’s

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spirit. It is not how he describes the singing of the Israelites anywhere else, and there are specific differences that are not due to vagueness (contra Kraemer 2010, 96–108). Mention of “the Saviour God” (τὸν σωτῆρα θεὸν) is quite curious wording and an unusual locution in Philo, but the whole description of the miracle has hinged on “the command of God” in §86 and the astonishing actions are designed to save Israel. In terms of a parallel expression, in Legat. 196 Philo speaks of the desperate plight of the Jews in the crisis stirred up by Caligula, and then adds, “But let us keep in our souls indestructible the hope in the Saviour God who has often saved the nation when it was helpless and in dire straits.” Agr. 80 mentions God as “the only Saviour.” In Abr. 137 Philo speaks of God as “Saviour and Lover of humankind.” Sobr. 55 uses the term for God’s saving activity. The term “Saviour” is not an inappropriate epithet to apply to God, though it was also applied widely to Hellenistic kings and also to Roman emperors (see Koester 1990), as well as to gods like Serapis. A full discussion of the word may be found in Jung 2003. Moses the prophet leading the men and Miriam the prophetess leading the women Here, unusually, we not only get the definition of Moses as a prophet (προφήτης), we have Miriam specifically designated as a prophetess (προφήτις). For Moses, see above on §63. Mention of Moses and Miriam as prophets references LXX Exod 15:20. The latter term “prophetess” is not a common Greek word, but it found elsewhere in Euripides, Ion 321; Diodorus Siculus, Bibl. 1.2; Plutarch, Def. orac. 431b; Plato, Phaedr. 244a (Graffigna 1992, 158). We get the rationale for the choir leadership already mentioned in §83, where, in regard to the two choirs, the “leader and chief is chosen for each, one most honoured and musical.” The word “leading” (ἐξάρχοντος) here parallels the word ἔξαρχος in § 83. In § 83 the leaders were of two separate choirs, looking to a choir leader independently. Now, we have this concept of one choir (of Israel), yet still with a male and female pair in charge of co-ordinating their inspired singing, male and female. It is a case of teamwork, of a shared responsibility. As noted above, in the biblical account there is not really an emphasis on there being one choir; the men and women remain divided, led by Moses and Miriam respectively. The words said by Miriam in Exod 15:20–21 are probably designed to imply that she echoed Moses’ song, thereby diminishing the significance of her own, given that the Hebrew wording is similar to the opening of Moses’ song (15:1), and in the LXX version the words are identical: “Sing to Yahweh, for he has triumphed gloriously. The horse and his rider he has thrown into the sea” (ᾄσωμεν τῷ κυρίῳ ἐνδόξως γὰρ δεδόξασται ἵππον καὶ ἀναβάτην ἔρριψεν εἰς

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θάλασσαν; see Taylor 2003, 322–334). Elsewhere, this is exactly how Philo interprets it: “the same hymn is sung by both the choirs” (Agr. 82). In addition, in the MT Miriam and the women sing “to them (masc.)” not separately to each other (see Janzen 1992). In the LXX it is a little more ambiguous, in that the women follow Miriam with tambourines in a chorus/dance and “Miriam led them out saying …” (ἐξῆρχεν δὲ αὐτῶν Μαριαμ λέγουσα). The significance of the Song of the Sea is retained in the Third Blessing of the Shemaʾ in Jewish liturgy as a paradigm for future redemption. In the Jewish liturgy, “Moses and Israel” sing the Song antiphonally “to You” (God) and then join in unison to sing: “Who is like You O Lord among the celestials? Who is like You glorious in holiness” (Exod 15:11). This presumes there is Moses, as a single leader, and Israel, in which both men and women are included, as respondent, and there is no leadership of Miriam. In his retelling of the crossing of the sea, Josephus does not mention Miriam and the women at all (cf. A.J. 2.346); it is Moses who leads. In Rev 15:2–6, those who fought against the Beast “were singing the Song of Moses the servant of God and the song of the Lamb,” and here the latter song seems to replace the song of Miriam, with Moses leading. Given the editorial tendencies to minimize Miriam’s song in the biblical texts, the question of alternative traditions of an ancient song of Miriam are particularly interesting, as is the view that Miriam’s song predated the attribution to Moses (see Cross and Freedman 1955; Anderson 1987; Janzen 1992). Biblical Miriam traditions have been thoroughly explored in the work of Rapp (2002), though with an emphasis on how Miriam was constructed in the final editing of the Bible in the Persian period, and see also Burns (1987); Trible (1989a, 1989b); Meyers (2005); Tervanotko (2016). Miriam is called “the sister of Aaron,” not of Moses, in Exod 15:20, and only identified as Moses’s sister in Exod 2:4. In Num 12:1–2. Miriam and Aaron say to Moses, “Has YHWH spoken only through Moses? Hasn’t he spoken through us too?” but are punished. YHWH says to Aaron and Miriam that “if there is a prophet among you, I YHWH make myself known to him/her in a vision, I speak with him/her in a dream. But not so with my servant Moses. He is entrusted with all my house. With him I speak face to face, clearly, and not in riddles, and he sees the form of YHWH. Why then were you not afraid to speak against my servant Moses? (Num 12:6–8),” though ironically this is a clear face to face speech, and it acknowledges that Miriam and Aaron had experienced inspired dreams and visions. YHWH inflicts Miriam with “leprosy,” on account of her challenge to Moses, and she is ejected from the camp for seven days, though Aaron remains unpunished (Num. 12:9–10). Nevertheless, her burial at Kadesh (Num 20:1–2) indicates the continuing memory of her tomb.

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Despite this, there remained extra-canonical traditions about Miriam. Interestingly, while Miriam appears unmarried in the Bible, Josephus states that she has a husband (A.J. 3.54) and identifies her burial at Sin (A.J. 4.78). There are two fragments from the Dead Sea Scrolls: 4Q365 Frag. 6a.ii and c that give us a distinctive song of Miriam; 4Q365 (from 4Q Pentateuchal Paraphrases or 4QPP: 4Q364, 365, 366, 367 and 4Q158; see Attridge, Elgvin and Milik et al. 1994, 187–351; Tov 1992; Crawford 1992, 217) date by palaeography to c. 75–50 BCE, radiocarbon dated to 209–117BCE). 4Q365 a–c ranges over two columns covering Exod 14:12–15:21 (see detailed discussion in Taylor 2003, 329–332). One of the most striking points for Contempl. 88 is that in this text God is indeed called “deliverer” or “saviour” (‫ ;מושיא‬Brooke 1994, 63). In addition, those who drown are designated as “enemies” (‫ ;שונות‬Brooke 1994, 63). Thus, the Therapeutae appear to give a higher status to Miriam than one would expect from the biblical text (or elsewhere in Philo’s work), having her as a joint leader with Moses, of one choir divided up into male and female sections. The harmonious linkage of these, without either one leading the other, is indicated in the next section; it is not a case of the women only echoing what is first sung by men. (§88) On this, above all, the choir of the ministers (Therapeutae), male and female, is modelled The designation of male and female ministers (of God) is given as θεραπευτῶν καῖ θεραπευτρίδων and here Philo emphasizes the women distinctly, even though the masculine plural form would normally function as inclusive of women. He needs to emphasize them as he is about to consider the way the treble voices of the women mingle with the bass voices of the men. For the meaning of the term θεραπευτής as “minister,” see § 2 and Introduction, pp. 51– 57. As noted above, the specific model in view is that of the singing beside the Red Sea. Kraemer turns things back to front and posits that Philo constructed the entire treatise as somehow an imaginative presentation of the events of Exod 15 (Kraemer 2010, 57–116), but this suggestion appears to miss both the genre of the text and its social context, see Introduction, pp. 22– 31. As for “modelled” (ἀπεικονισθεὶς) Philo uses the verb ἀπεικονίζω in 13 other passages, all outside Contempl. It is used in Fug. 100 to mean “represent by symbolic figures”—objects in the ark in the Tabernacle representing five of the Cities of Refuge (Num 13:12). Therefore the Therapeutae as they sing and dance become symbols of the dancing and singing under Moses and Miriam. The nexus of ideas and term thus correspond to Philo’s earlier statement that the Therapeutae choir is “a copy (μίμημα)” of the choir by the Red Sea (§ 85).

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He could hardly say more plainly that the Therapeutae themselves make this connection. It is a literal exegesis in that one choir is a “copy” of another. Perhaps part of the meaning Philo would have us as readers see is that this ritualistic mixing of men and women at Lake Mareotis is justified by Scripture. Yet there is a symbolic or allegorical implication in the dancing and singing of the Therapeutae as well. Their ritual must surely be taken by Philo as intended to recall and exalt the salvation God performed at the Red Sea. Thus their singing and dancing is a celebration of that earlier experience of salvation, as they understood it. Moreover, Philo tells us that the singing and dancing was an expression of thanksgiving for what God had done, “a work surpassing word, thought or hope.” At the literal level Philo regularly presents the Red Sea event as a historical one in which God’s miraculous action saved the Israelites from death at the hands of Pharaoh’s soldiers. Whereas Artapanus (in Eusebius, Praep. ev. 9.4) explains the crossing completely in terms of natural causes and Josephus finds a parallel in an incident in Alexander the Great’s career, while upscaling Moses’s role in actual event of the crossing (A.J. 2.318–346), Philo in Contempl. 88 and in other passages stresses the extraordinary miracle which God performed (Childs 2004, 230). On the allegorical level of interpretation, Philo regularly interprets Exod 14 or the Passover festival as the soul’s liberation from the body and the passions (e.g., Leg. 2.102; Spec. 2.147), see above on §85. Perhaps the Therapeutae, too, considered the Red Sea event as symbolizing that God had set them free from “worldly” desires, but Philo does not say so (in keeping with his general policy in Contempl. of remaining silent about their particular allegorical conclusions). The fact that the choir of the group is designed to reflect or continue the inspired singing (and dancing) of Israel collectively, as the culmination of Israel itself passing over from Egypt, is repeated. One should note, however, that we do not have a Passover celebration taking place; Philo does not define the sacred event as a Passover meal, either in terms of its placement in the calendar or in terms of any other aspect of what takes place. It is a sacred meal on the special Sabbath, the 49th day or Sabbath of Sabbaths, in which there is an all-night sacred event in which the Therapeutae sing songs of thanksgiving and praise to God in the same way that Israel did after being liberated from Egypt. This is not meant to supplant any other Jewish festival. However, singing songs on the Sabbath, both at synagogue and at home, is an important part of the Sabbath to this day.

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with re-echoing and antiphonal melodies, the treble of the women mingling with the deep voice of the men, the choir produces harmonious concord, and it is really musical. Jeffery (2003, 173) defines the terms here and notes the repetition of ἀντι in ἀντήχοις καὶ ἀντφώνοις which “might be seen as more strongly suggestive of answering or alternating verses, especially since they modify the word ‘melodies’ rather than ‘harmonies’” but “we are told in the very next phrase that the high and low voices mingled” and resulted in a harmony (173). This appreciation of the beauty of the choral music seems to be a personal response by Philo. This is beautiful music, not any kind of hysteria, wild trance or chanting. This is complex and inspired music that seems transcendent, elevating and beautiful. The voices mingle and answer each other, blending together in a perfect harmony of the sexes. Lovely are the thoughts, lovely are the words, dignified are the choristers, and the purpose of the thoughts and the words and the choristers is piety. Philo ultimately seems to be saying that the music, however refined and lovely, is less important that the ideas expressed in the Therapeutae’s hymns, the thoughts of those who sing, and the singers themselves. He uses the term “lovely” (πάγκαλα). It is a strong term and perhaps could be rendered “entirely beautiful.” The hint at Platonic goals seems evident here, since the goal of the soul is beauty, in Diotima’s speech (Symp. 210a–211d). As an expression of gratitude for a salvation already given by God, Philo emphasizes that “the purpose (τέλος) of the thoughts and the words and the choristers is piety” (εὐσέβεια). For Philo, the essence of piety is thanksgiving (as explored in Laporte 1972). The Therapeutae do not celebrate themselves or their remarkable communal life—they celebrate, praise, and worship God. Philo, having described at some length the manner of the Therapeutae singing and dancing, now concentrates on their words (presumably mainly in the hymns), their thoughts as they sing, and their individual characters. All are “lovely.” The purpose of everything is piety, and it is achieved. (§89) Being drunk then until dawn with this beautiful intoxication, not heavy-headed or dozing, but roused more awake than when they came into the dining room Philo uses “beautiful” (καλός) one last time, here applying it paradoxically to a state of drunkenness. The sober drunkenness is the antithesis of the drunk intoxications described so vividly in §§40–47. Colson has the idea that in this inspired state, shame is abandoned. He translates: “Thus they continue till dawn, drunk with this drunkenness in which there is no shame” (words μεθυσθέν-

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τες οὖν ἄχρι πρωΐας τὴν καλὴν μέθην; Colson PLCL 9:167), though the meaning of καλός seems stretched a little far here. It is meant to contrast the drunkenness of the ecstatic state with the actual drunkenness he has described in §§ 40–47 (cf. Plato, Symp. 233c). The “sober intoxication,” sobria ebrietas (μέθη νηφάλιος), that Philo describes elsewhere, relates to prophetic inspiration and the passionate love (ἐρώς) of God (e.g., Her. 69; Opif. 70–71, Leg. 1.84 and see Lewy 1929, esp. 33). The origin of this concept might well be within the Dionysiac cult of the Ptolemaic kings. In the Greek Anthology (Asclep. 44 G-P = AP 9.752) there is a description of Cleopatra’s ring bearing the image of a personified Drunkenness on amethyst, the stone of sobriety, with the inscription: “I am Drunkenness, the engraving of a skilled hand, but I’ve been engraved in amethyst. The stone is in opposition to its emblem. Yet the holy object belongs to Cleopatra, for on the queen’s hand even a drunken goddess should be sober” (for further see Gutzwiller 1995). This terminology is a variant way of describing the group’s state of religious enthusiasm or ecstasy or being carried away with heavenly love (§ 12) that Philo has previously spoken about. In §85 Philo said that the men and women join in a singing choir “having drunk as in the Bacchic rites the wine-cup of divine love” and this phrasing in §89 continues the image. Every one of the Therapeutae is in this state. They apparently continue to sing hymns and dance through all the remaining hours of the night. There is no sleepiness. They have no trouble staying awake. Rather the sense is that they feel inspired by God and profoundly happy. They are in a state of elevated religious emotion and sensibility, and they connect their experience of spiritual rapture with the ecstasy of the Israelites led in song by Moses and Miriam. There is perhaps here, as elsewhere when Philo alludes to the ecstatic or rapturous state of the Therapeutae, that they look to immaterial rather than to the sensate world, considering that their mortal lives have ended (§ 13). But this state is one of great order and composure, continuing the motifs of selfcontrol and order we find all through the treatise (e.g., §§ 29, 31, 34, 66, 75–77). The drunkenness is paradoxically a manifestation of complete order, in which beautiful singing can occur, and in this state they are truly “citizens of heaven and also world” (§90). This is true heavenly inspiration, the antithesis of the actual drunkenness of a Bacchanalia, and the dinner parties he has described in such vivid detail earlier. It is not the usual type of inspiration in the GraecoRoman world that is associated with any loss of consciousness or rationality (e.g., as stated in Plutarch, Amat. 758d–e). Note that here again there is a reference to the physical space: “into the dining room” (εἰς τὸ συμπόσιον). Within this space there is some opening for them to see the sun rising. On the low-lying hill to the west of Alexandria, the sun

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rose beyond the city itself. Their height would have allowed the sunrise to have been particularly seen, unobstructed. they stand with their eyes and their whole bodies facing the east, when they see the sun rising, lifting up their hands to heaven they pray for a fine day and truth and clear-sightedness of reasoning. And, after the prayers, they depart each to their own sanctuary, plying the trade and tilling the field of their usual philosophy. The spiritual intoxication that is part of the singing and dancing lasts till dawn. As the night wanes all the members stand facing east to see the coming of daylight. On seeing the sun they look up to heaven and pray for a fine day of reasoning, their “work.” On their prayer twice a day, see § 27 and for the importance of daylight for their study and spiritual life in general, see § 34. Winston (1981, 321) notes that certain pious people referred to by the rabbis would recite the Shema at sunrise. Josephus (B.J. 2.128) describes the Essenes praying at sunrise, and they pray facing east (B.J. 2.128). Jews as a whole pray facing the east, according to Ps. Athanasius (Quaest. Ant. 37). This was done among Pythagoreans (Iamblichus, Vita Pythag. 256). In T. Job (40.3) there is prayer facing east. Philo tells us the content of this prayer, but does not say if they pray aloud or silently, as individuals or in a common prayer, repeating an established prayer or inventing one as they proceed. In content the prayer is devoted to the future of their quotidian study: they seek truth and sharpness of understanding in their philosophical work (cf. §27). The term “a fine day” (εὐμερία) is in singular, not plural “bright days” (so Colson PLCL 9:167), see also the use of the term in § 27. The prayer towards the rising sun involves an allegorical interpretation of light, in which the clearsightedness of reasoning is asked for. Josephus (B.J. 2.128–129) states that the Essenes also prayed toward the rising sun. The pose they adopt is of the classic orans posture, with eyes looking up and hands raised, a pose often seen of Christians in catacomb art and early inscriptions, though it was common in the Graeco-Roman world and in Judaism, thus for example the “lifting up of my hands” in Ps 141:2 indicates prayer (and see 1Kgs 8:22; 1QS 10:15; 3Macc 5:25). Philo designates this as a thanksgiving prayer pose in Flacc. 121, though Horbury (1998, 307–309) has suggested that the raising of hands high was a matter of some discussion, with some preferring expanded hands without their being raised. This prayer pose was adopted already when they first prayed in the dining room before the meal (§ 66). They are still in the dining room not outside, since they do not “depart” (ἀναχωροῦσι) from this until the prayers are done. The sunrise prayers therefore create the bookend of the Sabbath of Sabbaths celebration that begins with the prayers

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before the meal, most probably then designated as the sunset prayers. In terms of a normal understanding of the Sabbath, it would begin at sunset, and go on until the following sunset. Philo has stated that on Sabbath days the Therapeutae gather in the sanctuary in order to hear a discourse, with the other six days of the week reserved for their work in huts. However, here they depart for their huts at sunrise. One assumes that the communal meeting for the discourse in the sanctuary has already taken place in the day before the meal-time which would follow it (see §§30–37). This is one of the indicators in the treatise that the group follows the solar calendar, with the day beginning at sunrise, rather than the normative luni-solar calendar, with the day beginning at sunset (for detailed discussion, see Taylor 2003, 154–170). They pray for “clear-sightedness of reasoning” (ὀξυωπίαν λογισμού), which ties in with the purpose of contemplation: to have sight and discernment (Plant. 58, 60). They then return to “work”: the words “plying the trade and tilling the field” (ἐμπορευσόμενοι καὶ γεωργήσοντες) are indicative of labour, the former indicating employment and the latter agricultural labour, with both words being used for doing philosophy or “farming” virtue (Congr. 123; Plant. 42; Congr. 123, cf. Porphyry, Vita Pythag. 12; Clement of Alexandria, Strom. 1), This quiet ending to the account of the Therapeutae banquets reminds us that the members of this community actually spend relatively little time in communal meetings. After a long night of praying, listening to presidential exegesis, dining, singing and dancing, they separate and go back to their individual huts and consecrated study rooms—sanctuaries—to resume private philosophical-exegetical investigations and musical compositions, as described earlier in §§28–29. Perhaps readers who knew their Plato would recall the quiet ending of the Symposium: after nearly everyone else at Agathon’s dinner party had fallen asleep at daybreak, Socrates went directly to the Lyceum to resume his daylight philosophical discussions. It should be noted that Philo specifically describes their work as being philosophy: they are collectively a group of philosophers (so § 2), able to put into practice the true philosophy of Moses.

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§90 Conclusion Philo reaches the end of the treatise with a definition of what he has set out to do, to describe people who follow the contemplative life, turning the audience back to how he began his discourse, and providing a fitting philosophical ending.

Detailed Comments (§90) Therefore, such are the things to say about ministers The construction with τοσαῦτα is used elsewhere by Philo and by other Greek writers (e.g., Herodotus, Hist. 3.113) to refer to things already said. Here it is used with “about” (περί), which in turn governs the genitives. Quite similar summary conclusions using τοσαῦτα appear at the end of De Abrahamo and De vita Mosis. The word “ministers” (θεραπευτῶν) takes us back to § 2 where the word first appears as a term of commendation, indicating these people are ministers of the soul which has been made ill by passions and desires, people who are ministering as devoted attendants to Being itself. who embrace contemplation of Nature, The word “embrace” (ἀπασαμένων) is translated by Colson (PLCL 9:169) as “taken to their hearts,” which perhaps suggests for modern readers too much an emotional or sentimental commitment. By saying they “embrace contemplation of nature” (θεωρίαν ἀσπασαμένων φύσεως) Philo seems to mean that they live according to deep reality inherent in Nature, the reality God has established. They are not like those persons who violate the laws of Nature (φύσις) as described in all the antithetical examples of the treatise: they are the prime example of those who truly see Nature for what it is. They concentrate on Scripture, which in turn guides them in the ways of Nature. Nature, in its fundamental sense, and God are essentially the same (Nikiprowetsky 1977, 127). indeed of those living in her and soul alone, citizens of both heaven and world See the Textual Notes here regarding the Armenian version which would have the Greek τὼν … βιωσάντων read τὼν … θεωρησάντων. Colson (PLCL 9:169) does not understand the word τῶν as referring back to the ministers (θεραπευτῶν)

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and suggests leaving out the word altogether, for reasons that seem to be based on reading “the things that are in nature” (τῶν ὲν αὐτῇ). Runia (1997) likewise translates the initial clauses as referring to those “who have embraced the contemplation of nature and what it contains” (and so too Taylor 2003, 358). The plethora of genitives does not make this an easy section to translate but what is suggested as a translation here avoids removal of the τῶν, and does not translate it as “things that are in/what it contains” but rather as referring back to θεραπευτῶν. The reference of καὶ τῶν ὲν αὐτῇ καὶ ψυχῆ μόνῃ begins with a emphatic καί and then goes back to Nature (fem.), just mentioned and then to “soul,” which may possibly be rendered with a capital, as a kind of substantive entity paralleling Nature, as drawn from Plato’s Timaeus (35a–b) thus: “indeed/and of those living a life in her (Nature) and Soul alone.” The verb “living,” or “following a way of life” (βιωσάντων) implies—metaphorically—a context, or environment, which is constituted by both Nature and soul alone without distraction (Whittaker 1996). Elsewhere for “live in the soul” alone in terms of an existence, as opposed to following a way of life, Philo does not use the verb βιοῦν but ζῆν (Abr. 236; Her. 82; Mos. 1.29; Decal. 60) as Graffigna (1992, 160) notes. That the phrasing here is different from these other cases indicates a slightly different meaning. The terminology of “those who live in the soul rather than the body” is particularly associated with people who engage in allegorical exegesis of Scripture, who are assumed to live an ascetic existence (Abr. 236). This reading is coherent then with the next clause, in which the Therapeutae are thus citizens of both heaven and world, realising the heavenly in the world, living the two existences together. To live “in soul” is to live the life of contemplation of the Existent One, while their concern for Nature (φύσις) is a concern for a reality beyond the physical as discovered in Scripture. They are balanced; neither in the world alone or in heaven alone. They do eat and drink, they do care about the physical aspects of life: they live in a suitable spot, with nice breezes, safe from robbers; they have decent though simple dwellings; they work on exegesis and music, and they eat, if sparingly. They are concerned with worldly things, but only insofar as these are absolutely necessary, and their choices are always right. They exemplify what is stated in Prob. 160, defined as being that of the Stoic Zeno: “the life led according with Nature.” There are also curious echoes of this concept in the New Testament, in terms of a heavenly citizenship (cf. Phil 3:20; Heb 11:13–16; 13:14). who are truly recommended to the Father and Maker of all by virtue, which has procured friendship for them Runia appropriately notes how virtue here might also be defined as “excellence” and points out that in QG 3:8 a single man saves the city through such

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virtue/excellence, and that this ability to save the city itself is given as a reward for his goodness by God, who loves such excellence; the language is strikingly similar to what we have here; likewise, in Mos. 1.148 we find that Moses is given leadership as a reward for excellence and goodness (ἀρετή and καλοκἀγαθία), so the two are almost synonymous (Runia 1997, 11 n. 26). Both words are linked in §72. Clearly, Philo has designed the closing sentence to connect with the opening one in §1: “I will now also say next the appropriate things about those people embracing contemplation (περὶ τῶν θεωρίαν ἀσπασαμένων) … for the extraordinary virtue (ἀρετή) of these men must not become a cause of speechlessness for those who consider it right that nothing good (κάλος) should be kept in silence.” Philo therefore uses the repetition of key terms to create this link between end and beginning, intertwining the embracing of contemplation, virtue and goodness as the key elements of his exemplary model. The word “virtue” (ἀρετή) repeats throughout the text to keep reminding us of the theme (§§1, 26, 34, 60, 72, 90): the Therapeutae dream of divine virtues (Contempl. 26). They “are pressing on towards the peak of virtue” (§ 72), and here in § 90 they have achieved the peak of goodness. Of virtue itself, we find the specific virtues of both “manliness” (andreia, ἀνδρεία, §60) and “self-control” (ἐγκράτεια § 34), the latter laid down as the foundation of all the virtues. Moreover, they are friends of God; as Winston (1981, 321) states, this is “an ancient and widespread motif” (Isa 41:8; 2Chr 20:7; 22:7; LXX Exod 32:11; Ju. 30:20–21; Apoc Abr 9–10; T. Abr. A15, 16; Jas 2:23; Sib Or 2:245) which we find also elsewhere in Philo (Sobr. 56; Mos. 1.156; Her. 21; Prob. 44; Abr. 129; Leg. 3:204). It is applied to Abraham (Abr. 129; Her. 21, cf. Isa 41:8) and Moses (Mos. 1.156, cf. Exod 33:1; Jub 30:20–21; Sib Or 2:245) as noted by Runia (1997). adding a most appropriate gift of goodness, better than all fair fortune, leading to the very peak of happiness. In the final sentence, Philo stresses that the members of the group have received from God a gift of “goodness” (καλοκἀγαθία; Runia 1997, 7–8). As Runia has explored, this is a heavily loaded philosophical term defining the highest good possible. But, the only reason this group ever came to be recorded for posterity was because they were a useful model for Philo to use in his rhetorical strategy of convincing his audience of the existence of the good within Judaism at a time this was questioned. The treatise then has a curious sting in its tail. The success of the Therapeutae is said to be “happiness” (εὐδαιμονία) an important concept for ancient philosophy as a whole, and for Philo as part of this milieu (Abr. 58; Deus 5. Mut. 216; Mos. 2.67). For Philo happiness lay in truly knowing God (Opif. 144). In ending his treatise with the word “happiness”

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Philo provides a strong and positive conclusion that seems to encourage the audience to be positive in its assessment, yet it is preceded by an extraordinary concession that points outside the treatise: “better than all fair fortune.” Nothing yet said has indicated that the Therapeutae are unfortunate, that fair fortune has eluded them in any way. Why should this be considered? Philo has not discussed whether good fortune even makes for happiness, though it was assumed it would; it is as if the Therapeutae can find happiness despite the vicissitudes of fortune. They do not rely upon it for their happiness, and thus it seems that there is an implicit recognition here that fortune may well not have smiled upon them, or Jews in general in Alexandria. These few final words point out of the treatise to the historical context that must not be forgotten for us to understand this remarkable work. Thus, as Philo loops back and forth in this treatise, the reader of this commentary is asked to loop back to the start of our study, in order to consider again the difficult social circumstances in which Philo wrote this work.

Bibliography 1

Philo of Alexandria

a

Greek Editions of De Vita Contemplativa

Turnebus, Adrien. 1552. Philonis Iudaei in libros Mosis, de mundi opificio, historicos, de legibus; eiusdem libri singulares. Paris: Apud Adr. Turnebum typographum regium. Mangey, Thomas. 1742. Philonis Judaei opera quae reperiri potuerunt omnia. London: G. Bowyer. Vol. 2: 471–486. Cohn, Leopold and Reiter, Siegfried. 1915. Philonis Alexandrini Opera Quae Supersunt, ed. Leopold Cohn and Paul Wendland (Berlin: George Reimer). Vol. 6: 46–71 (editio minor: Vol. 6: 32–50); reprinted Berlin: De Gruyter, 1962; abbreviated in this commentary as C-W. Conybeare, Frederick C. 1895. Philo about the Contemplative Life. Oxford: Clarendon Press; repr. New York: Garland, 1987.

b

Translations and/or Commentaries

Bormann, Karl. 1964. Über das betrachtende Leben. Pages 44–70 in Philo von Alexandrien: Die Werke in deutscher Übersetzung, vii. Edited by Leopold Cohn, Isaak Heinemann, Maximilian Adler and Willy Theiler. Berlin: De Gruyter. Colson, Francis H. 1941. Pages 104–169 in Francis H. Colson, George H. Whitaker (and Ralph Marcus). Philo, in Ten Volumes (and Two Supplementary Volumes), Vol. IX. Loeb Classical Library. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. = PLCL 9. Conybeare, Frederick C. 1894. Philo concerning the Contemplative Life, JQR 7: 755–769. Corrington, Gail Paterson. 1990. Philo On the Contemplative Life: or, On the Suppliants (The Fourth Book on the Virtues). Pages 134–155 in Ascetic Behavior in Greco-Roman Antiquity: A Sourcebook. Edited by Vincent L. Wimbush, Studies in Antiquity and Christianity. Minneapolis: Fortress. Daniel-Nataf, Suzanne. 1986. Philo of Alexandria: Writings, Vol. 1: Historical Writings, Apologetical Writings. Jerusalem: Bialik Institute. (Hebrew). Daumas, François and Miquel, Pierre. 1963. De Vita Contemplativa. Les Oeuvres de Philon d’Alexandrie. Paris: Éditions du Cerf. Geoltrain, Pierre. 1960. Le traité de la vie contemplative de Philon d’Alexandrie; Sémitica, Tome X des Cahiers publiés par l’Institut d’Etudes Sémitiques de l’Université de Paris Librairie Adrien-Maisonneuve. Paris: l’Institut d’Etudes Sémitiques de l’Université de Paris Librairie Adrien-Maisonneuve. Graffigna, Paola. 1992. Filone D’Alessandria, La vita contemplativa. Genova: il melangolo. Martin, José Pablo. 2009. Filon de Alejandria: Obras Completas, Vol. 5. Madrid: Editorial Trotta, 145–176.

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Tilden, Frank. 1922. Philo Judaeus, On the Contemplative Life. Indiana University Studies 52. Bloomington: Indiana University. Trivino, José Maria. 1975–1976. Obras Completas de Filon de Alejandria, 4 vols. Colección Valores en el tiempo. Buenos Aires: Acervo Cultural. Winston, David, with Preface by John Dillon. 1981. Philo of Alexandria: The Contemplative Life, the Giants and Selections. Classics of Western Spirituality; New York: Paulist Press, 39–57, 315–321. Winston, David. 1986. Philo and the Contemplative Life. Pages 198–231 in Jewish Spirituality from the Bible through the Middle Ages. Edited by Arthur Green. Crossroad: New York. Wright, William and McLean, N., The Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius Pamphili, Bishop of Caesarea, Syriac Text, edited from the manuscripts in London and St. Petersburg, with a collation of the Ancient Armenian Version of Adalbert Merx and Variant Readings from other Versions. Cambridge: University Press, 1898, 86–92. Yonge, Charles D. 1954–1955. A Treatise on a Contemplative Life, in (id.), The Works of Philo Judaeus, the Contemporary of Josephus, translated from the Greek. London: Henry G. Bohn; repr. Peabody: Hendrickson, 1993, 698–706.

c

Additional Works of Philo

Aucher, Johannes Baptiste. 1822. Philonis Iudaei sermones tres hactenus inediti: I. et II. de providentia et III. de animalibus; ex armena versione antiquissima ab originali textu graeco ad verbum stricte exequuta nunc primum in Latinum fideliter translati. Venice, Coenobium Armenorum, 1–121. Terian, Abraham. 1981. Philonis Alexandrini de animalibus. Chico: Scholars Press. Marcus, Ralph. 1953. Philo, Questions and Answers on Exodus, transl. Ralph Marcus (Loeb Philo Suppl. II, London: Heinemann). = PLCL Suppl. II.

d

Lexica and Indices

See works listed under Abbreviations for standard tools. In addition: Borgen, Peder, Fuglseth, Kaare and Skarsten, Roald, The Philo Index: A Complete Greek Word Index to the Writings of Philo of Alexandria. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000.

2

Other Ancient Authors: Translations and Editions

Aristobulus Adela Yarbro Collins, Aristobulus. Pages 831–842 in James Charlesworth (ed.), Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, Vol. 2. London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 1983.

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Aristonarchus Ludwig Friedländer. Aristonici, Περὶ σημείων Ἰλιάδος Reliquae emendatiores. Göttingen: Libraria Dieterichiana, 1863. Artapanus John J. Collins. Artapanus. Pages 897–903 in James Charlesworth (ed.), Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, Vol. 2. London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 1983. Chaeremon Gillian Clark, Porphyry: On Abstinence from Killing Animals. London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2000, 104–109. Pieter van der Horst. Chaeremon: Egyptian Priest and Stoic Philosopher. Leiden: Brill, 1987. Cicero J.E. King, Tusculan Disputations. Loeb Classical Library 141. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1927. W.A. Falconer. Cicero. On Old Age. On Friendship. On Divination. Loeb Classical Library 154. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1923. H. Rackham. Cicero. On the Nature of the Gods. Academics. Loeb Classical Library 268. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1933. Cynic Epistles Abraham J. Malherbe. Cynic Epistles: A Study Edition. Atlanta, Scholars Press for SBL, 1977. Epictetus George Long. Discourses of Epictetus. New York: Appleton, 1904. Eusebius Kirsopp Lake. Eusebius, The Ecclesiastical History. 2 vols. Loeb Classical Library. London: Heinemann, 1926. Edouard Schwartz, Eusebius’ Werke 2 (Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller der ersten drei Jahrhunderte 9.1–3.) Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs, 1903. William Wright and Norman McLean. The Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius in Syriac, edited from the manuscripts in London and St. Petersburg, with a collation of the Ancient Armenian Version of Adalbert Merx and Variant Readings from other Versions. Cambridge: University Press, 1898.

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Diogenes Laertius R.D. Hicks. Diogenes Laertius: Lives of the Eminent Philosophers. 2 vols. Loeb Classical Library. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1925. Iamblichus John Dillon and Jackson Hershbell. Iamblichus: On the Pythagorean Way of Life: Text, Translation, and Notes. Texts and Translations 29; Graeco-Roman Religion Series 11. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1991. Olympiodorus W. Norwin. Olympiodorus, In Platonis Phaedonem Commentaria 1: 9. Leipzig: Teubner, 1913; repr. Hildesheim: Georg Olms. 1987. Philostratus Frederick C. Conybeare, The Life of Apollonius of Tyana. 2 vols. Loeb Classical Library. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1912. Plato John M. Cooper, Plato: Complete Works, assoc. ed. D.S. Hutchinson. Indiana: Hackett, 1997. Plutarch Frank Babbitt, Harold North Fowler, Harold Cherniss, W.C. Helmbold, with index compiled by Edward N. O’Neill. Plutarch, Moralia. 16 volumes. Loeb Classical Library: Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1927–2004. Pseudo-Eupolemus Robert Doran. Pseudo-Eupolemus, in James Charlesworth ed., Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, vol. 2 London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 1985, 873–882. Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite G. Heil, A.M. Ritter, Pseudo-Dionysius Areopagita. Vol. 2. De Coelesti Hierarchia, De Ecclesiastica Hierarchia, De Mystica Theologia, Epistulae. Berlin: De Gruyter, 1991. Pseudo-Phocylides Wilson, Walter T. The Sentences of Pseudo-Phocylides. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2005. Ptolemy Heiberg, Johan L. Claudii Ptolemaei opera exstant omnia. Leipzig: Teubner, 1898.

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F.E. Robbins. Ptolemy, Tetrabiblos, Loeb Classical Library; Cambridge: Harvard University Press/Heinemann, 1971. G.J. Toomer, Ptolemy’s Almagest. London: Duckworth, 1984. Pomerius, Julianus Quaesten, Johannes, The Works of the Fathers in Translation: Julianus Pomerius, The Contemplative Life. Baltimore: Paulist Press, 1947. Seneca Richard M. Gummere. Lucius Annaeus Seneca. Moral Epistles. Loeb Classical Library. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1917–1925. Stoic Fragments Arnim, Hans Friedrich August von, ed. 1903. Stoicorum Veterum Fragmenta. Stuttgart: Teubner. Reprint: Leipzig: K.G. Sauri, 2004. Vol. I: Zeno et Zenonis discipuli (1905); Vol. II: Chrysippi Fragmenta logica et physica (1903); Vol. III: Chrysippi Fragmenta moralia—Fragmenta successorum Chrysippi (1903); Vol. IV: Indices: Maximilianus Adler (1924). Strabo H.L. Jones. Strabo, Geography. Loeb Classical Library; Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1924. Stobaeus, Johannes L. Dindorf, Historici Graeci Minores. Leipzig: Teubner, 1887. Kurt Wachsmith and Otto Hense. Anthologius, i–iv. Berlin: Weidmanns, 1958.

3

Modern Scholarly Literature

Abdelwahed, Youssri. 2016. Two Festivals of the God Serapis in Greek Papyri. Rosetta 18: 1–15. Adams, Edward. 2013. The Earliest Christian Meeting Places: Almost Exclusively Houses? London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark. Adams, Sean A. 2013. The Genre of Acts and Collected Biography. Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series. Cambridge: CUP. Adams, Sean A. 2017. To Be and Not to Be: Philo on the Difference between Philosophers and Sophists. SBL Seminar Papers 2017, at http://torreys.org/sblpapers2017/Adams _PhiloOnSophists.pdf Alesse, Francesca. 2008. Philo of Alexandria and Post-Aristotelian Philosophy. Leiden: Brill.

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Index of Subjects and Names Aaron 53, 214 Abraham xii, 30, 159 Achilles 259 Acts of the Apostles 30 Adams, Edward 234 Aelian (Claudius Aelianus) 18, 273 Aesclepius 52 Agathon 84, 150, 348 Agrippa I (Julius Herod) xi, 3, 33 air quality 172 Alcibiades 255 Alciphron 163 Alesse, Francesca 182 Alexander, Gaius Julius ix, 3 Alexander, Marcus Julius ix, 3 Alexander, Tiberius Julius ix, xiii, 3, 4, 5 Alexander the Great 1, 131, 163, 344 Alexandria ix, x, xiii, 1–2, 3–5, 7, 18–20, 23– 24, 31, 49, 61, 78, 106, 109, 126–127, 154, 160, 163, 166, 168, 170–172, 189, 197–199, 223, 352 social conflict in 2–5, 7, 24, 31 See also meals and social context; Serapis allegory and allegorists xi–xii, 6, 8, 11, 18, 31, 32, 35, 39, 40, 45, 59, 60–66, 183–187, 263, 265, 306, 311–312 ‘extreme’ allegorists 65–68, 184 in Philo xi–xii, 65–68, 195, 312–314, 317– 318, 336–339, 344 See also exegesis; Therapeutae Ambrose xiv Anacreon 208 Anaxagoras 6, 19, 29, 39, 77, 108, 145, 148 ff., 152 ff., 165, 239 andreia 37, 38, 62, 107, 205, 217, 221, 237, 241, 256, 257, 259, 283, 285, 317 androgynes 257–258, 262 animal worship 7, 9, 15, 16, 76, 100, 118, 123, 127, 130–132, 131–135, 136 animals 131–134, 149, 254, 303 Anthony the Great 50–51 Antiphon 29–30 Aphrodite 84, 144, 254 Apion 2, 3, 6, 7, 8, 21, 24, 107, 284 Apollo 111, 124–126, 191, 208, 227, 284 Apollonius 148, 167, 169

Apuleius 176, 273, 274 Aquila 48 Archelaus 274 Aristarchus 155 Aristides, Aelius 20, 52, 119, 126 Aristobulus 185, 266, 268 Aristonicus 155 Aristophanes 216, 242, 249, 258, 262 Aristotle 25, 27, 29, 38, 116, 167, 254, 292, 295 Arsinoë (Queen) 154 Artapanus 344 Artemidorus Daldianus 213–214, 216 asceticism 21, 45–46, 49, 50–51, 61–63 See also contemplative ideal/lifestyle; Therapeutae; virtue Ascough, Richard 70 astrological cult 117ff., 122–128 See also cultic practices astronomia 124, 127 Philo’s use of planets 124 Athanasius of Alexandria 50–51 Athena 120, 267, 270, 284 Athenaeus 22, 225, 252 Athenagoras 119, 219 athletes 182–183, 231, 232 athletic contests 232–233 Atkinson, Kenneth 69 Augustus 2, 192 Autolykos 84, 150 Bacchantes 77, 142 Bacchus and Bacchic rites 100, 117, 142, 143, 150, 176, 334–335, 346 Baer, Richard A. 257 banquets 20, 21, 233, 234, 236, 237, 238–239, 246–247, 254, 294 See also dining rooms; symposia Baronio, Cesare 51 bathtubs and footbasins 130–131 Beckwith, Roger T. 303 beautiful, use of term 281 Beavis, Mary-Ann 27 Ben Sira 178 Berthelot, Katell 165 Betz, H.D. 229

382 bios 29, 30 body and physical needs 130–131, 206–215, 318 Bormann, Karl 44, 243 Brock, Sebastian P. 219 Brooten, Bernadette 279, 309 Brumberg-Kraus, Jonathan 328 Buddhism 69 Burtchaell, James 280 Caesar, Julius 2, 3 Caesarea library 35, 99 Caligula. See Gaius Capponi, Livia 127 celibacy 13, 17, 253, 282, 283, 286, 288 Chaeremon the Stoic 8–17, 18, 19, 20, 23, 24, 100, 114, 128, 132–133, 284 On the Egyptian priests 8, 9–17, 19, 21, 22, 24, 30, 100, 114, 119, 126, 130, 140, 159, 164, 169, 173, 177, 179, 181, 183, 187, 189, 193, 196, 204, 205, 209, 212, 214, 239, 276, 282, 293, 302, 303–304, 321 See also contemplative/ideal lifestyle choirs (Therapeutae) 89, 328, 330–332, 333, 335, 340–345, 346 male/female mixed 328, 335, 336, 340, 341, 343 and piety 89, 328, 345 Christianity 44–51, 177, 275, 280, 332 early Egyptian 45, 47, 49, 50, 148, 149 fictive kinship groups in 298 and the Therapeutae 45, 48–49 See also monasteria/monasticism; Nachleben Chronos 120, 154 Chryssipus 30, 279, 295 Cicero 28, 29, 37–38, 179, 292, 305 circumcision 66, 68 city/cities 84, 91, 112, 161–165, 170, 172, 173 Clark, Gillian 9 Claudius 2, 4, 5, 8, 24, 33, 46, 233 Cleanthes 107, 279 Clement of Alexandria 47, 119, 123, 128, 132, 167, 321, 348 Cleopatra VII 1, 2, 231, 346 clothing 40, 61, 81–83, 141, 201, 215–218, 240, 273–274, 299–300 chitons 83, 216, 243 chlaina 81, 216, 217

index of subjects and names Egyptian kalaseris 218 exomis tunics 217–218 himation 194, 216 othonē 218 peribolaion 217 and proper posture 194 of the Therapeutae 199, 204, 215, 218, 273, 274, 299–300 Cohn, Leopold 43, 94 Cohn-Wendland (C-W) 43–44, 90ff., 99, 106, 113, 135, 139, 144, 169, 217, 234, 243, 245, 246, 253, 314, 333 Collins, John N. 294 Colson, Francis H. 34, 44, 90ff., 99, 104ff., 109, 110, 112, 113, 135, 146, 153, 165, 169, 176, 183, 184, 186ff., 194, 195, 204, 210, 211, 218, 228, 230, 233, 241, 243, 245, 246, 252, 254, 262, 267, 269, 270, 274, 278, 288, 297, 306, 315ff., 331ff., 345, 349 conceitedness 141, 219 congregation 191–192, 193, 197 contemplative/ideal lifestyle 6–17, 19– 22, 23–26, 24–31, 37, 62–65, 67, 86, 89, 100–101, 103, 114–115, 148, 266 Philo’s depiction of 6–17, 26, 28–29, 30– 31, 62–64, 66, 101, 160 See also philosophers; Therapeutae; virtue Conybeare, Frederick C. 32, 41, 42, 43, 44, 49, 56, 90ff., 99, 102, 110–111, 113, 115, 123, 136, 140, 146, 150, 165, 180, 187, 188, 218, 230, 241, 243, 244, 245, 267, 269, 274, 315, 319 Coptos codex 47–48 Corpus Hermetica 140 Corrington, Gail Paterson 44 corruption 239 Corybants (Kouretes) 77, 117, 142, 143, 150, 176, 334 cultic practices 18–19, 20, 117–118, 121, 123– 129, 130, 135 See also animal worship; astrological cult; elements, worship of Cybele 100, 142 Cyclops 229–230, 247 Cynics 68, 302 Daniel-Nataf, S. 44 darkness. See light and darkness

383

index of subjects and names Daumas, François 44, 56, 91, 93, 94, 128, 158, 163, 166, 171, 172, 176, 194, 210, 234, 241, 245, 297, 300, 315, 319, 324, 332 Davis, Stephen J. 49 Dead Sea Scrolls 137, 181, 188, 189, 279, 298, 310, 323, 343 Community Rule 219 Deborah 297–298 DeConick, A.D. 140 dei Rossi, Azariah 45 deigma/paradeigma 28 Demeter 75, 117, 119, 120, 257 Demetrius of Magnesia 149 Democritus of Abdera 6, 19, 29, 39, 77, 108, 145, 148 ff., 151 ff., 165, 219, 239 and founding of contemplative life 148– 149 negligence of property by 151 desire 86, 113, 158, 205, 253, 304, 305 Deutsch, Celia 139, 177 diakonoi 294, 295 Dichaerchus 29, 103 Didymus the Blind 48 dignity 273 dining rooms 230, 233–234, 246, 288–289, 330 as sumposion 330 as symposia 233 Dio Chrysostom 1, 28 Euboean discourse 28 Diocles 279 Diodorus Siculus 1, 120, 148, 149, 163, 165, 284, 291, 326 Diogenes Laertius 29, 30, 110, 116, 126, 129, 148, 149, 167, 179, 279, 292, 302 Dionysiac cult 335, 346 Dionysius 20, 21, 117, 120, 123, 128, 142 Dioscorides Pedanius 212 Dioscuri 117, 124, 128 divine beauty 180 divine madness, notions of 334–335 Doering, Lutz 191 drinking cups/chalice 241 drugs and hallucinations 228, 234 drunkenness 227, 228, 229, 231–237, 253, 334, 345 as ecstatic state 346 and lack of manliness 241 and mandragora 234

translation of 234 See also intoxication; sobriety edification 87, 306–321 education 61, 69, 189, 285 music in 189 and the Therapeutae 260 of women 69 Eisen, Ute 279–280, 308 elders 193, 194, 179–181, 296ff., 302 and class/status 297–298 eldership, concept of 193 and mother/father titles 297–298 women as 179–180, 283, 297–298 elements worship of 75–76, 117, 118, 119–122, 123 identification with deities 119–122, 127 See also astrological cult Empedocles 119, 295 Engberg-Pedersen, Troels 23, 27, 104, 106 Ephorus 155 Epictetus 27, 28, 29, 182, 298 description of Socrates 27–28 Epicurus 22, 214 Epiphanius 47, 307 episkopoi 280 equality 40, 78, 86, 156, 307 Eros 257 erotic love and eroticism 83, 84, 144, 253, 254, 257–258 in symposiums 83, 84, 243, 249, 254 See also pederasty; Plato’s Symposium; Xenophon’s Symposium Essenes 6, 7, 24–25, 26, 30, 31, 32, 33, 36, 45, 57–60, 75, 101–103, 146, 161–162, 166, 175, 182, 184, 189, 228, 294ff. active philosophical life of 30, 31, 33, 35–36, 58–59, 102, 103, 170 clothing of 217, 240, 273 geographical location of 58, 102, 168–169 as healers and ministers 54, 58 identification with Therapeutae 51, 53– 54, 57–60, 70 in Philo’s writings 33, 35, 36, 58, 100, 101–103, 106–107, 108, 158, 164, 184, 193, 215, 228, 291, 299 and servants/slaves 292, 294–295 and Seventh Day practices 210, 279 Euripides 284, 334

384 Eusebius 4, 5, 19, 25, 31, 32, 33–34, 42, 45–46, 49, 51, 185, 266, 268 arrangement of Philo’s works by 32, 33– 34, 35, 36, 37, 38 Greek text of Contempl. used by 42, 43, 44, 45 Therapeutae, assessment of 45, 49 evil 210, 215, 219, 256, 291 exegesis 178, 181, 317 allegorical method of 183, 311–312 Exodus from Egypt 36, 38, 268, 335–341, 344 Philo’s allegorical use of 336–339, 344 family leaving behind of 159–160, 170, 236 neglect of 151–152, 153, 236–237 farms and farming 84, 175, 211, 348 Ferguson, John 125, 335 festival(s) Philo’s ten 277 Festugière, A.J. 103, 177 Flaccus, A. Avillius 2, 3, 104, 177, 227–228, 294, 299 Foucault, Michel 259 free will 17, 77, 85, 86, 91, 142, 144, 284, 295– 296 furniture 240–241, 288–289 dining couches 241, 275, 282, 288, 289 in the triclinium 240 in the stibadium 240 Gabinius 2 Gaius, Caligula 2–6, 24, 33–35, 46, 53, 70– 72, 109, 124, 128, 166, 228, 329, 341 Galen 231 Garden of Eden 31 gender 283 and Philo’s metaphors 283, 285 Geoltrain, Pierre 44, 169–170 Gibbon, Edward 49 gluttony 223, 241, 247, 248–249, 253, 256 God, terms used for 113–116, 127, 232, 341 as ‘Saviour’ 341 good and evil, paths to 219 goodness 225, 351 as perfect good(ness) 167, 168, 169, 173, 176, 239, 299 in philosophers 167–168

index of subjects and names Graffigna, Paola 41n4, 44, 90–92, 113, 116, 128, 132, 159, 163, 164, 166, 172, 176, 182, 217, 228, 243, 245, 289, 292, 293, 297, 310, 319, 326, 350 grasshoppers/locusts, song of 208, 333 greed 156, 247, 291, 292 Grilli, Alberto 29, 148 Guignebert, Charles 23 gymnastic contests 231 gymnosophists 167, 169 Hachlili, Rachel 197 hair styles and customs 83, 242–243 and boy slaves 242–243 happiness 8, 28, 29, 39, 41, 77, 89, 101, 114, 147, 227, 351–352 and the Sabbath 66 and life of the Therapeutae 227, 253, 290, 351–352 Hay, David xvi–xviii, xix–xx, xxii, 109 healing/healers, use/translation 45, 53–54, 56, 110–111, 112–113 contemplatives and 56 philosophy as 112–113 of the soul 112, 136 spiritual 56 tied with treatment 56, 110–111, 112 See also minister, use/translation of Hecataeus 165 Heinemann, Isaak 179 Helios 124, 125, 126, 127 Hephaestus 75, 117, 119, 120, 124 Hera 75, 117, 119, 120, 124 Heracles 284 Heraclitus 154, 229, 295 Herculaneum 218, 239, 240 Hercules 117, 123 Hermes (Mercury) 124, 126, 128, 140 Hermes Trismegistos 129–130 Hermetica 140 hermitages 49, 50, 51 Hernández, Pura Nieto 154 Herod the Great 233, 274 Herodotus 284, 349 Hesiod 187, 208, 227, 287 heterosexual love 253, 258, 262 as ‘madness’ (Philo) 253 Hipparchus 123, 124 Hippocrates 29, 78, 153, 172, 302

385

index of subjects and names historia 25, 27 Historia Monachorum 50 Homer 18, 39, 78, 105, 135, 154–155, 156, 184, 191, 216, 223, 229–230, 287 allegorizing of 154 depiction in Egyptian cult 18 song of the Sirens 208 homes and housing 39, 49–50, 173–178, 190 and the Therapeutae 173–178, 215 See also hermitages; monasteria/monasticism homoerotic love 252, 259 See also erotic love and eroticism homosexual relationships 144, 254, 260, 262 Horace 148 Horbury, William 347 hunger and thirst 214–215 hymns 88, 187–188, 189, 208 See also music and musicality Hypothetica (Philo) 5, 25, 26, 30, 32, 36–37 hyssop 11, 12, 40, 61, 80, 86, 88, 205, 207, 211, 212–213, 270, 296, 302, 325, 326 Iamblichus 30, 212, 272, 291, 301, 303, 321, 347 idleness 209, 210 idolatry 122, 130, 131 See also statues and images, worship of Ilan, Tal 69 immortality 144, 225, 287, 288 indulgence 214–215 inequality 78, 86, 156, 291 injustice 78, 156 Inowlocki, Sabrina 33 intoxication 81–82, 89, 143, 223, 224–225, 227, 228–237 and violent behaviour 227, 228, 229, 231–234 Isaac the Great 43 Isidorus 2, 6 Isis 17, 18, 20, 21, 70, 120, 127, 176, 218 Israel, translation of word 139 Jeffery, Peter 322, 332, 345 Jerome 47, 133 Jerusalem 58, 160, 166, 192, 271, 279, 280 Jesus 32, 145–146, 147, 159–160

Josephus 3, 4, 5, 8, 21, 30, 37, 47, 55, 70, 181, 185, 193, 199, 200, 206, 233, 235, 240, 253, 291, 303, 304, 323, 326, 330, 342, 343 Essenes in 58, 59 Judaea 31, 58, 161, 168, 169, 193, 280 Judaism 23–24, 31–32, 103–104, 109, 118, 139, 164–165, 166–167, 181, 185, 275, 277–278, 310 life of virtue in 23, 31 and masculinity 256 mysticism in 139, 180 Philo’s defence of 5–6, 7, 23–24, 25, 351 Second Temple period 57, 197, 222, 275, 280 Julia Crispina 310 justice 156, 157 Justin Martyr 56 Juvenal 162, 241, 246 Kallias 83–84, 150 Kellia 49–50, 177, 190 Kerns, Loren 248 Khirbet Susiya 198 Kitos (Quietus) Revolt 5 Klinghardt, Matthias 330, 333 Kom el-Dikka 197–198, 201–202 Koskenniemi, Erkki 121, 148, 149 Kraemer, Ross 23, 107, 343 Lake, Kirsopp 187 Lake Mareotis 6, 9, 24, 26, 39, 59, 78, 109, 158, 164, 166, 168, 169, 170–172, 290, 344 Larsen, Matthew 196, 316 Leah 67 Leonhardt-Balzer, Jutta 191, 219 Levison, John R. 179 Levites 52, 53, 64, 275, 323, 326, 327 light and darkness 40, 76, 80, 100, 130–131, 133, 181, 206–207, 232, 268, 287, 318, 347 food and drink practices 181, 182, 204, 206, 215, 232 Two Ways of 137, 180–181, 183, 206, 211, 215, 219, 220, 232 Loader, William 256 locusts 208, 209 Logos 129, 132, 268, 285

386 love 144, 225, 319 as heavenly 254, 255 as leading to God 144, 147, 255, 290 and same-sex relations 285 See also erotic love and eroticism Lucian of Samosata 164, 231, 234, 284, 298 Lucius 31–32, 49 luxury 82–83, 103, 237–240, 246–247, 249, 254, 256 in dining/food practices 83, 223, 225, 238–239, 246–248 as a disease 215 Greek/Hellene fashion of 238–239 See also banquets; gluttony; symposia; wealth Lycophron 284 Macrobius 124, 125, 126–127, 140 Majcherek, Grzegorz 198 man/manliness 62, 84, 107, 216, 256, 259, 290, 351 Manetti, Daniela 104 Mangey, Thomas 43, 95, 243, 245 marriage 165, 261 Martin, José Pablo 44 Mashtots, Mesrop 43 Mason, Steve 109 McGowan, Andrew 303, 325 McLean, Norman 42, 45 meals 11–13, 19–23 cult of Serapis 20–21 Egyptian priests’ practices 11–13, 19, 22, 177 fasting rituals 13, 80–81, 333 Therapeutae practices 11–13, 19, 21–22, 40, 80, 204–215 wine-drinking 21, 81–82, 301 See also banquets; symposia; Sabbath medicine 153 Menander 233, 256 Metella, Caecilia 38 Meyers, Carol 342 mindfulness 85, 277 minister(s), use/translation of 45, 52–57, 58, 100, 110–111, 169 as in a cult service to God 52, 53, 54, 55, 57 in Josephus 55–56, 57, 58

index of subjects and names masculine/feminine forms of 55, 57, 110 Philo’s use of 52, 53–54, 56, 57, 100, 110– 112, 139, 343 as medical healing/treatment 52, 54, 55–56, 57, 111–112, 114 as soul/spiritual therapy 111–112, 137 Miquel, Pierre 44, 91, 93, 94, 128, 176, 194, 210, 234, 241, 245, 297, 300, 315, 319, 324, 332 Miriam 40, 89, 188, 283, 302, 322, 328, 332– 334, 340–343 song of 242, 343 misanthropy 162, 164–165 modesty 17, 39, 40, 88, 199, 200–201, 202, 205, 273, 326 Monad 115–116 and God in Philo 115–116 See also God, terms used for monasteria/monasticism 32, 33, 46, 49, 50– 51 monasterion 79, 176, 177 money 63–64, 152, 224 See also wealth money-making 156–157, 276 Morris, Jenny 35 Mosaic Law 36, 62, 65–66, 104, 114–115, 166, 178, 253, 257, 260, 261, 266, 287, 253, 257, 260, 261, 327, 328 Moses x, 7, 31, 32, 40, 53, 62, 89, 101, 105, 109, 121, 139, 141, 168, 180, 183, 188, 191, 210, 213, 214, 216, 249, 263, 266, 268, 286, 289, 304, 314, 328, 335–336, 337, 340, 348, 351 Moses of Chorene 43 music and musicality 40, 88, 154, 187–189, 208–209, 321–324, 335 dancing and singing 322–323, 328, 329, 333, 343 hymns singing and composition 88, 187–189, 208, 321–322 and the Therapeutae 89, 187–189, 209, 321–324 See also choirs; hymns; singing Musonius Rufus 239, 244 Naples Museum 240, 241 Nature contemplation of 114–115, 132, 266, 349, 350

index of subjects and names Laws of 114, 266, 349 wealth of 78, 150, 156–157 Nero 243 Nicocreon of Cyprus 126, 127 Nicolaus of Damascus 155–156 Niehoff, Maren R. 4, 5, 7, 24, 114, 131, 224, 229, 235, 260 Nikiprowetsky, Valentin 109–110, 114, 143, 166, 170, 269, 270, 312 Nissinen, Martti 260 numbers 49, 50, 85, 116, 191, 267, 269–271 50 271 seven 85, 191, 209, 246, 267, 268, 339 See also Sabbath of Sabbaths; Seven, significance/power Ocellus 185 Odysseus 81, 229–230 Oikoumene 154 Olympian, use of term 231, 232 oracles 187, 188 orators and oratory 87, 106–107, 121, 195–196 Origen xiv, 35, 47, 123 Osiris 120, 125, 127 Ovid 230, 254, 273, 284 Oxyrhynchus Papyri 20–21, 47, 125, 234, 309 Palestine 198, 213, 228 Panaetius 29, 148 pankratia 231, 232 Pantaenus 47 papyrus 171, 188, 289, 290 paradeigma 28, 84, 251, 267 parents, neglect of 63, 66, 68, 78 Parmenides 229 passions 113–114, 158, 248, 253, 304–305, 339, 349 Passover 6, 21, 225, 267, 269, 277, 323, 336, 337–339, 344 See also Sabbath of Sabbaths Patroclus 259 Paul, Apostle 66, 225, 280, 298, 310, 319 Pausanius 254, 284 Pearce, Sarah J.K. 131 pederast, use of term 259 pederasty 40, 83, 84, 223, 237, 242, 244, 253– 255, 258–260, 262, 285 Philo’s criticism of 257, 259–260, 261, 285

387 in Plato’s Symposium 254–255 See also erotic love/eroticism; servants and serving slaves Pentecost, significance of 269–270, 271, 277 Peter, Apostle 46, 47, 4 Pherme 49 Philo of Alexandria Allegorical Commentary 5, 30, 61 allegory use by xi–xii, 195, 312–314, 317– 318, 336–339, 344 delegations to Rome by x, 3–4, 36, 45, 46 Exposition of the Law 31, 32, 63 family and life of ix, x, 3, 160, 162, 164, 235, 238 Judaism defence of x, 5–6, 7, 23–24, 31, 38, 178, 224 philosophical training of x, xiv, xxii, 46, 65 treatises 5–6, 36, 43, 178 visual depiction of 47, 48 See also De vita contemplative; Eusebius; Nachleben; Therapeutae philosophia 109 philosophers 18–20, 26, 29–31, 60, 69, 103, 111–112, 167, 189 Therapeutae as 183, 189 See also contemplative ideal/lifestyle; Therapeutae; virtue Philostratus, Flavio 121, 132, 146, 148, 167, 169 Phineas 53 Photius I of Constantinople 35–36, 48–49 piety 4, 6, 7, 10, 39, 40, 88–89, 118, 129, 138– 139, 166, 328 and Therapeutae choir of ministers 89, 328, 345 Plato 20, 22, 23, 28, 29, 46, 84, 105, 106, 108, 116, 120, 122, 139, 140, 142, 144, 149, 158, 179, 180, 181, 182, 185, 191, 208, 223–225, 229, 234, 235, 242, 250–251, 259, 285, 289, 303, 317, 318, 319, 334 Plato’s Symposium 20, 23, 29, 84, 249, 250, 252, 254, 258, 262, 264, 281, 287, 324, 345, 348 critique of Philo’s account of 252–253, 254, 255, 262 Philo’s criticism of 249, 258, 261, 265 Platonists 56, 129 Plautos 146

388 pleasure, rejection of 85–86, 252, 282, 285– 286, 290 Pliny the Elder 3, 56, 123, 164, 171, 234 Pliny, the Younger 307–308 Plutarch xi, 21, 108, 113, 120, 132, 134, 135, 148, 161, 164, 176, 179, 188, 190, 191, 196, 214, 217, 229, 230, 231, 237, 255, 284, 289, 303, 308, 313, 316 Pluto 119, 123 poets/poetry 18, 75, 105–106, 154, 230 Poliakoff, Michael B. 232 Polish Centre of Mediterranean Archaeology 198 Polyhistor, Alexander 116 Polyphemous 229 Pomerius, Julius 29 Pompeii 239, 240, 241, 274, 334 Pontius Pilate 33–34 Porphyry 7, 8–17, 19, 21, 24, 29, 30, 59, 100, 102, 103, 114, 119, 126, 130, 132–133, 140, 146, 152, 159, 164, 167, 169, 172, 173, 177, 179, 183, 187, 189, 193, 194, 196, 204, 205, 214, 239, 277, 282, 293, 303, 348 Poseidon 75, 117, 119, 120, 124, 229 Potiphres 53 poverty 49, 208 powers, Philo’s concept of 129, 180 pragmateia 25–26, 104 prayer and sacred rituals 6, 40, 49, 79, 180– 181, 275–276, 347–348 presbytera/presbutides/presbuteros 279, 280 property and possessions 39, 77, 141, 144– 146, 148, 149–150, 157–158 detachment/abandonment of 146–147, 148, 149–150, 152, 157–158, 187 and the Therapeutae 145–146, 148, 157– 158, 236, 276 See also wealth Prophets 178 Prosper of Aquitane 29 Pseudo Clementines 66 Pseudo Dionysius Areopagita 42–43, 46, 48 Pseudo-Justinius 188 Pseudo-Lucian 254, 302 Pseudo-Philo 179 Pseudo-Phocylides 253 Ptolemy I Soter 1 Ptolemy IV Philopator 18, 154 Ptolemy VI Philometor 185, 330

index of subjects and names Ptolemy XII Auletes 2 Ptolemy XIII 2 Ptolemy Claudius 2, 121, 123, 124, 126, 127, 171 purification 159, 276–277 Pythagoras 30, 46, 179, 269, 301, 303 Pythagoreans x, 30, 56, 116, 158, 188, 209, 240, 273, 321, 347 Pythia 284 Quintilian 27, 314 Qumran 181 Rapp, Ursula 342 Rectus, L. Aemilius 4 Reiter, Siegfried 43 Riaud, Jean 304 Richardson, Peter 49, 170 Rome and Roman Empire 2, 3–5, 6, 7 Egyptian cult in 17–18 See also Alexandria Royse, James 47 Rufinus 34, 42, 91 Runia, David xvi, xvii, xxi, 47, 48, 109, 110, 116, 162, 183, 185, 252, 312, 350–351 Sabbath xix, 6, 7, 13, 26, 31, 40, 59, 61, 66, 68, 80, 85, 181, 191, 192, 194, 199, 268 as contemplative life 104 and ‘extreme’ allegorists 66, 67–68 food and fasting 80–81, 204, 213, 227, 302–304, 333 See also sanctuary; Seven, significance/power of; Seventh(s) Sabbath and the Therapeutae xix, 6, 7, 13, 26, 31, 40, 59, 61, 68, 79, 173, 174, 176, 181–182, 191, 193, 204, 209–211, 246, 267, 271, 272–279, 303–304, 306, 318 juniors, role in 307–308, 310, 316–317, 324, 325, 329 music, singing and dancing in 321–324, 329, 331–332, 335–336, 340, 344, 345, 348 prayer customs 275–276, 277–278, 347– 348 president/speaker (prohedros) in 309– 311, 313, 317, 320, 324, 329, 348 rank and order in 275, 278–279, 306– 307, 309–311

index of subjects and names scriptural allegorical exegesis in 311–312, 313–314, 316, 317, 320, 329 and wearing of white 273–274, 275, 277 women/women elders in 279, 297–298, 301, 302, 306, 308, 313, 315, 317, 330–331 See also choirs (Therapeutae); Sabbath of Sabbaths Sabbath of Sabbaths 6, 68, 210, 267, 268, 270, 273, 300, 317, 325, 328–333, 344, 347–348 festive dinners 6, 26, 204, 209, 277, 317, 325 numbers 49, 50 significance in 268, 269–270, 271 and the pentecontad calendar 270–271 ‘sacred event’ stage in 328–331, 336, 344 stages of movement in 328–329, 330 Sacra Parallela 47, 48, 194, 315 salt 211–212, 213, 230, 231, 325, 327 See also hyssop sanctity/sanctified 176 sanctuary 173, 197–203, 288, 301, 306 as semneion 173, 330 and female modesty 199, 200–201, 202, 203, 326 male/female divided space in 197, 198– 203, 272, 288–289, 306, 326 use for Sabbath meetings 173, 197, 202, 272 of the Temple 327–328 See also monasterion; solitarium; synagogue(s) Sandmel, Samuel 183 Sceptics 69 Scheil, Jean-Vincent 47 Schultz, Celia 70 Schürer, Emil 32 Schwartz, Edouard 42 Segal, Alan 66 Sejanus 34 self-control 38, 205, 225, 351 Seneca 20, 30, 112–113, 195, 214, 216, 229, 237, 239, 241 ff., 243–244, 291, 313–314 senses 136, 182, 235 hierarchy of 136, 235 Septimius Severus 2 Serapis 17, 18, 20–21, 70, 125, 140, 176, 187 cult of 20–21, 119, 125 ff., 225, 227, 234, 335

389 servers and serving slaves 241–244, 290, 291, 294–295 and concept of ‘serve/servers’ 295, 307– 308, 309 feminisation of 242, 243, 244, 254, 258 as free people 86, 161, 291, 296 See also pederasty Seven, significance/power of 85, 191, 209, 246, 267–268, 270, 293, 339 Seventh day(s) 191, 209–219, 226, 227, 246, 267, 268–269 See also Sabbath; Sabbath of Sabbaths Sextus Empiricus 120, 124, 292 sexual conduct 201, 249, 261 Sgarbi, Romano 43 Sibylline Oracles 188, 276, 323, 351 Sichard, Jean 33 Sidonius 288 singing 208–209, 324, 331 See also hymns; music and musicality Skepsis 69, 309 slaves and slavery 8, 20, 21, 27, 40, 78, 161, 191, 290, 291–293, 294–295, 307, 313 boys, use of 242–244, 254, 294, 296, 297, 299–300 hair styles and clothing of 242–243, 245, 273 sexual services 241 use of in symposia 82, 241 See also servants and serving slaves; pederasty sleep and dreaming 179–182, 206, 208 sober drunkenness 225, 273, 334, 345–346 sobriety 19, 40, 86, 195, 236, 300–302, 304– 305, 326 See also drunkenness; intoxication Socrates 19, 27–28, 83, 107, 144, 146, 149, 171, 208–209, 224, 226, 229, 255, 281, 285, 287, 317, 319, 348 literary symposiums of 250, 348 Sodom and Sodomites 256, 260 solitaria 189, 209 solitarium 50, 79, 176, 177 solitude 78, 79, 103, 151, 160, 164, 165, 175, 182, 190 and communal living (Therapeutae) 164–165, 209 and women 199 Sophia of Gortyn 279

390 Sophia/Wisdom 80, 85–86, 91, 109, 162–163, 285, 286, 287 sophists 121, 167, 195, 312 Sotion 167 soul, disease/affliction of 75, 80–81, 84, 111 ff. healers of 14, 39, 45, 56 ff., 65, 100, 109, 111 ff., 136, 153 speakers 195, 198, 201, 202, 308–309 Spigel, Chad 198 Stambaugh, John E. 21 Standhartinger, Angela 23, 233, 313, 324, 329, 336 Statius 274 statues and images, worship of 15, 76, 100, 118, 130, 133, 135, 118, 130–131, 145 Stephen, Jack 242 Sterling, Gregory E. xvi, xviii, xxii, 32, 36 Stoicism x, xiii, 5, 6, 8, 9, 15, 18, 19, 24, 27– 28, 30, 31, 107, 110, 114–115, 205, 214, 256, 258, 296 deities and elements in 119–120, 127, 128, 129 Philo’s use of 5, 6–7, 27–28, 31, 110 Strabo 1, 2, 125, 132, 142, 155–156, 167, 170, 171, 172, 226, 290 Suetonius 18, 242–243, 246 sumposium, use of word 330 sun, moon, planets worship. See astrological cult symposia 19, 21, 22, 23, 28–29, 38, 40, 63, 81–89, 209, 221, 223–224, 225–226, 233– 234, 241, 265, 313, 330 and eroticism 84, 243, 254, 256 feasting practices in 81–84, 225–226, 246–247, 301 food extravagance/abundance in 246– 249, 256, 301 Greek examples of 83–84, 209, 225, 226 Philo’s ‘right’ symposia 85–89, 264 Philo’s ‘Wrong Way’ in 223, 237, 249 poor models of 249–263, 264, 265, 289, 301 and style of luxury 82–83, 238, 246 and Therapeutae asceticism 21, 40, 85– 89n See also intoxication; luxury; pederasty; Plato’s Symposium; servants and serving slaves; Socrates; Xenaphon’s Symposium

index of subjects and names synagogue(s) 192, 193, 194, 197, 198–199, 202, 279, 307 dividing wall in 200–201 separation of women in 80, 197, 199– 203, 288–289, 315, 330–331 women elders in 279, 280 See also sanctuary Szesnat, Holger 282 Tacitus 18, 21, 163, 165, 239, 308 Tatian 120 Taussig, Hal 22 Taylor, A.E. 255 Taylor, Joan 36, 99, 102, 108, 109, 144, 167, 171, 174, 190, 200, 206, 217, 224, 234, 261, 270, 300, 330, 342, 343, 348, 350 Tertullian 21 Tervanotko, Hanna 342 Theophrastus 29, 103 Therapeutae as allegorists 52, 61–62, 65–68, 183–187, 205, 211, 336 asceticism of 6, 8, 45, 46, 49, 57, 61–62, 145–146, 172, 179, 205, 256, 296 bodily needs management 206–209, 215, 318 clothing and protection 215–218 daily life and work of 59, 60, 61–62, 206–207, 215 divine possession, language in 62–63 early Christian identification of 45–46, 48–49, 51, 68 Essenes, distinct from 51, 53–54, 58– 60 evidence of actuality of 25, 28, 57, 60, 70, 212 geographical location of 24, 51, 65, 78, 170–173 housing and sanctuaries 49–50, 51, 61, 79, 173, 174–175, 199, 204, 215–216 idealization of 23, 24–25, 45, 63 Judaism of 32, 48–49, 58, 115, 141, 143, 166, 167–168, 169, 178, 183–184, 191, 251– 252, 264 meals and social practices of 11–13, 19, 21, 40, 59, 61, 68, 131, 204–206, 288–289, 307–309 as ministers 39, 45, 53, 56–57, 58, 65, 75, 100, 110–111, 112, 136

391

index of subjects and names musicality 89, 328 name 51–57, 75, 110–111 prayer and sacred practices of 6, 40, 49, 79–80, 173, 176ff., 180–182, 347–348 Sabbath day observance. See Sabbath and the Therapeutae as a sect 57, 60, 61, 65, 69, 166, 168, 278 as a thiasoi 70–71 women inclusion of 46, 51, 59, 60, 69, 75, 89, 95–96, 111, 145, 174, 184, 199–201, 315, 330, 343 See also De vita contemplativa; Essenes; Eusebius; virtue therapy 111, 112 Thericles 241 Thersites 134, 135 thiasoi 70 Thucydides 106, 324 Tiberius Julius Caesar 18 Tiberius Sejanus 33 Tigchelaar, Eibert 273 Tilden, Frank 44 Timon of Athens 164, 234 Titus ix, 5 trees 151 Trible, Phyllis 342 Trivino, José Maria 44 truth and falsehood 38, 81, 84, 136, 139, 151, 219–221, 263, 313 in poets and storytellers 105–106 as the Two Ways 38, 40, 81, 100, 137, 141, 151, 157, 172–173, 218–221, 222, 263, 312 See also light and darkness Turnebus, Adrien 43 universe, origin of 271 utopia 28, 31 van den Hoek, Annewies 123, 170 van der Horst, Pieter 23, 34 van Kooten, George 121 Varro 162 vegetarians 303–304 Vergil 216, 284 Vermes, Geza 54 Vestal Virgins 284 Vettius Valens 126 violence 225, 229, 230

virginity 283–284, 286–287, 288 virtue 5, 7, 8, 23, 29, 31, 37–38, 64, 67, 101, 103, 106–108, 118, 205, 224, 248, 350–351 and the Essenes 90, 103, 106 and gender 38, 108, 205 manliness as 84, 107, 108, 237, 351 and Nature 114–115 philosophical life of 28, 29, 31, 114 among the Therapeutae 8, 26, 37, 38, 39, 180, 221, 297, 299, 351 See also De vita contemplativa virtus/virtue 37–38, 256 De vita contemplativa active/practical life in 30–31, 106 actuality assessment of 22–25, 26–27, 28, 31, 32, 175 audience for 7, 24, 168, 224 authorship debate 31–32, 49 Christian use of 31, 44–51 correspondence with Chaeremon’s writings 9–19, 24, 114 Essenes, depiction of in 101–102 genre definition of 22, 25, 27, 29 historical context of 5, 24, 31–32, 352 Judaism portrayal in 23–24, 31, 38, 55, 101, 104, 128, 139, 141 Roman context/influence in 7, 24, 36 speech and rhetoric in 7–8, 18–19, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 32, 69, 106, 107, 108– 109 Stoic ideals in 5, 6–7, 27–28 structure of 38–41 symposia subject in 38, 40 title variants of 32–33, 36, 55, 99 and translation variations 90–96, 99, 320 translations/commentaries list 41–46 Two Ways of truth and falsehood in 38, 40, 81, 100, 137, 141, 151, 157, 172–173, 215, 218–221, 222, 312, 318 virtue as theme in 37–38, 39 women in 39, 40, 59, 60, 62, 64, 69, 80, 102, 107, 108 See also contemplative/ideal lifestyle; Therapeutae; virtue Vitruvius 198 Wassen, Cecilia 298 water 213–214, 301–302

392 wealth 60, 61, 65, 103, 130, 146, 151, 157, 158, 220, 224, 226, 239, 246, 256, 276 as contrary to Nature 78, 150, 156– 157 giving away of 146–147, 148, 149–150 seeing and blind wealth 77, 146–148, 151 See also luxury Wells, Louise 55–56 Wendland, Paul. See Cohn-Wendland (C-W) Wilson, Walter 253 wine and drinking 81–82, 86, 142, 143, 224– 225, 228, 229, 232–233, 242, 301, 304, 334 See also drunkenness; intoxication Winston, David 24, 44, 105, 106, 111, 119, 153, 156, 161, 208, 210, 213, 214, 217, 223, 243, 252, 270, 300, 351 Winter, Bruce 121 wisdom 109, 112, 121, 149, 156, 189, 333 Sophia/Wisdom 80, 85–86, 91, 109, 162– 163, 207, 337 women and femininity depiction of 17, 26, 38, 60, 159, 174, 199– 200, 214, 256 in divided spaces 198, 199, 200, 288–289, 301, 330–331 as elders 279–280, 283, 286, 287, 288, 297 and the feminine soul 318–319 and modesty 199, 200–201, 202, 205, 258, 287, 289, 326, 330, 331

index of subjects and names in Philo’s writings 60, 69–70, 107, 159, 162–163, 174, 182, 200–201, 214, 279, 282–289, 318, 343 as philosophers 26, 60, 69, 200 as priestesses 17, 56, 85, 284, 328 and rejection of pleasure 85–86, 282, 285–286 among the Therapeutae 46, 51, 59, 60, 64, 69, 80, 85–86, 95–96, 174, 279, 282ff., 315, 330–331 as thiasoi members 70 and Wisdom/Sophia 163, 207, 285, 286, 287 See also virginity worshippers 111, 136 wrestling 231–232 Wright, William 42, 45 Writings (Ketubim) 178 Wyss, Beatrice 121 Xenophon 22, 27–28, 84, 108, 214, 223ff., 243, 242, 249, 299, 333 Xenophon’s Symposium 28, 249, 250, 252– 253, 262, 263, 265, 324 Yonge, Charles D. 44 Zeno 107, 292, 350 Zenodotus 155 Zeqenin/zeqenot 279 Zeus 119, 120, 125, 129, 156, 157, 234, 262, 267 zodiac 124–125, 127

Index of Ancient Sources 1

Philo of Alexandria

De Abrahamo 10 20 20–23 22–23 23 25 28–30 30 57 58 59 60 79 80 82 119 121 125 128 129 130 133–136 135 135–137 136 137 140–141 150 215 217–224 223 229 232 238 241 236

xii, 349 154 192 162 164, 190 163, 185 146–147 210 26 147 351 129 114 199 341 342 140 114 52 52, 197 351 52 256, 257, 285 253 254 256 341 170 136 185 114 114 161 150 305 136 250

De aeternitate mundi xiii, 5, 32 4 148, 296 8 122, 149 12 185 13 122, 251

14 15 16 17 27 38 52 54 73 76 98 106 107 114 138 141 147 De agricultura 18.4 21 24 40 44 48 54 66 72–78 73 79 79–82 80 82 83 94–101 113 119 123 136 143 150 159 162

251 185 251 251 251 251 251 110 197 185 206 182 121 130 182 251 234 xii 105 239 169 111 191 207 147 114, 249 305 60 340 321, 340 283, 340 340 336 252 233 232, 233 114 121 121 207 121 121

394 De animalibus 49 54

index of ancient sources xi, xiii, 5, 32 253 x, 3

Apologia pro Iudaeis 25 Arithmetica 65a

251

De cherubim 17 23–30 25 27 27–28 30 42–50 45 50 87–89 87–101 92 94 95 100 105 114

xii 318 129 124 115 129 185 287 177 283 60, 191 210 329 129 273 129 52, 188 93

De confusion linguarum xii 4 154 21 305 35 333 39 263 63 163 78 160 92 140 94–95 52 94–96 101 95 57 136 129 137 110 141 139 143 182 168–173 129 174 53 187 110

De congressueru ditionis gratia xii 5 287 10 190 16 189 35 311 51 115 52–53 69 53 52, 112 64 121 74–76 189 75 105 78 169 81 163 105 54 106 336 110 185 114 109 123 348 133 122 134 52, 266 141 296 143 320 147 26, 104 149 26, 104 160 210 177 263 De decalogo 2–17 12 35 45 52 52–54 52–57 54 54–81 56 60 66 71 76 80 96 96–101 98 98–101 100

xiii 162 111 105 95, 273 118 122 119, 123 121, 144 118 170 350 53, 127 52 122, 131 135 211, 226 268 268 109 31, 104

395

index of ancient sources 101 102 102–105 108–120 110 111 115–117 116 117 119 127 129 132 142 142–153 150 150–153 160 De ebrietate 22 30–31 31 44 69 76 78–79 79 83 86 87 91 97 98 100 105 123 126 131 136 140 142 171 184 210 211 214 219 221

31 267, 270 210 63 63 63 210 169 207 63 165 52 114 114 113 114 114 269 xii, 47 236 163 163 140 54 52 162 336 115 52 54 235 26, 104 113 327 305 334 53 52 255 113 114 185 111 53 212 212, 223, 225 212 92, 235

In Flaccum 1 1–7 3 4 7 8 9 20 30 32–40 33–39 37 41 43–48 45 47–49 48 50 53–54 71 74 78–80 89 108 113 121 121–124 122 123 136 166 168 177 184 191

xiii, 2, 3, 32, 34–35 34 227 26, 104 206 166 3 52 6 231 3 34 290 193 166 193 193 197 2 3, 193 130 2 2 190 52 294 276 321, 330 193 197 226, 238 177 177 163 207 34, 35

De fuga et inventione xii 18–19 129 19 146 27 52, 57 28–29 63 28–32 63 30 63 31–32 63 32 304 33 6, 64 35 64

396

index of ancient sources

De fuga et inventione (cont.) 36 64 37 64 38 64 40 64 41 64 42 53 49 169 51 60 51–52 283 52 163, 286 55 69, 309 58 69, 70 62 323 68–72 182 81 190 89 52 94 160 94–105 129 100 343 109 163 165 139 174 191 184 139 202 163 208 136 211 121 213 319 De gigantibus 3 10 15 18 29 44 58

xii 62 172 131 185 26, 104 290 105, 154

Hypothetica 7.1 7.10–14 7.12–13 7.14 8.6.5 11 11.1 11.1.18 11.1–18 11.3

xiii, 5, 25, 32, 36–37 253 110, 209–210 268 199 36 52 58, 102, 103, 161, 169, 263 30, 36 102 93, 102

11.4 11.5 11.6 11.6–9 11.10 11.11 11.12 11.13 11.14 11.14–17 11.14–18 11.16 13 De Iosepho 10 23 28–31 36 64 75 76–77 104 109 118 125 152 187 196 204–205 210 217 242 258

59, 146, 158, 291 26, 104 26, 104 59 59 215 216, 217, 218 278 103 59, 60, 174 102 103 52 xii 52, 112, 114 52 114 156 52 111 52 182 210 163 300 212 248 212 244 212 275 52 147

Legatio ad Gaium

1–7 5 5–6 6 8–13 8–113 12 15 20 25 31

xiii, 2, 3, 32, 33, 34, 35, 38, 46, 47 139 116, 276 115–116 115, 320 228 4 273, 329 169 129 132 166, 231, 320

397

index of ancient sources 32 35 62 71 78–79 81–85 82–83 86 87–92 93–113 97 100 104 106 109 111–113 114 120–139 132 134 139 140 143–158 148 152 156–157 157 159–161 165 169 174 178–183 180–198 182 191 194 196 203 212 214 214–216 230 250 260 281 281–283 287 291 294

52 52 297 297 128 128 335 128 128 124 53 230 320 111 125 124 109, 156 34 193 193 132 52 2 193 193 268 193 33, 34 193 143 320 4 4 x, 4 193 3 341 160 169, 197 197 166 109 2 52 160 166 90 169 160

299–305 305 311 316 321 330 334 346 347 349–372 354 355 358 363 368–372 370 371 373

34 160 92 109 109 166 160 34, 193 197 4 332 6 199 3 4 x, 3 193 33, 34

Legum allegoriae 1.2 1.5–18 1.6 1.8 1.11 1.15 1.16–18 1.18 1.31–42 1.32 1.52–58 1.54–55 1.57–58 1.59 1.63–64 1.70 1.72–73 1.77 1.80 1.84 1.88 1.90, 92 1.94–96 1.107 2.3 2.11 2.49–50 2.50–52

xii, 314 170, 296 209 122 165 115 267 268 122 268 278 31, 103 268 31 111 205 305 305 122 232 346 268 268 268 185 115 132 182 114

398 Legum allegoriae (cont.) 2.55 182 2.69 136 2.85 158, 159, 160, 304 2.87 52 2.99–104 114 2.102 344 2.102–103 335, 336 2.385 60 3.13 336 3.18–19 61 3.36 52 3.40 190 3.38 130 3.67–68 182 3.69 131 3.72–74 131, 233 3.81 191 3.88 292 3.91–93 319 3.94 336 3.97–101 109 3.98 199 3.101 319 3.113–114 305 3.115 305 3.117 320 3.118 52 3.127–128 52 3.135 53 3.130 113 3.131 114 3.138–139 247 3.139–140 114 3.154 336 3.155 247 3.156 235, 238 3.163 296 3.172 336 3.178 111 3.181 115 3.185 305 3.185–187 114 3.204 351 3.220 248 80–82 154 838e 261

index of ancient sources De migratione Abrahami xii, 158 3 182 17 251 18 139, 214, 251 19 156 21 156 28–29 268 32 320 34 115 47 30, 104 54 139 57 139 66–67 305 67 114 69–72 143 86–93 xix, 65 86 67 88 65 89 67 89–93 x 90 65, 67, 205 91 65, 211 92 66, 184 93 66, 67, 317–318 95 67 96 67, 199 104 296 107 67 108 67 124 99, 112, 114 131 180 150–151 30 151 336 154 336 155 114 171 121 176–187 129 180 121 190 319 190–191 142 191 62, 143 200 233 219 111 De mutatione nominum xii 6 139, 140 11 115

399

index of ancient sources 13–15 21 28 32 32–34 33–34 34 39–40 43 53 74 75 83 88 94–96 106 122 125–129 134–135 146 150 153 159 198 204 210 216 260 233

287 115 129 62 64 64 62 62 197 26, 104 197 26, 104 311 311 156 54 111 263 287 149, 250 296 185 305 192 266 180 351 191 263

De opificio mundi 3 4 8 10 16–18 17–25 18 20 36 46 48 52 53 53–55 55 66 67

xii 114 105, 106, 108 116 122 162 129 122 122 110, 122 180 296 191 123 139 180 212 122

69 70–71 71 76 89 89–128 97 98–128 99–100 105 119 124 126 127 128 131 133 134–135 135 143 144 152 157 157–159 165 165–166 171 172 De plantatione 14 37 39 42 45 46 48 58 60 65 72 89 105 126–131 147 151 159 160 160–161

268 139, 346 140, 142, 143 268 123, 191, 209 268 268, 271 209 267 153 251 153 110 110 183, 268 120 110, 251 268 122 197 268, 351 262 105, 154, 196 252 290 252 122 115 xii 278 219 231 348 185 139 335 140, 348 54, 348 149, 250 52, 112 94 52 321 185 185 105 229 21

400 De plantatione (cont.) 160–165 225, 226 255–256 321 De posteritate Caini xii, 47 12 263 13–14 139 20 129, 320 46–47 114 49 114 67 191 73–74 114 78 185 79 320 83 320 101 121 116 169 121 210 135 287, 290 141 52 155–157 336 164 296 167 115 169 129 173 163 177 191 182 53, 179 184 55 De praemiis et poenis xii 9 319 11 31, 101, 103 15 113 17–18 158 17–19 159 19 52, 305 27 311 36 182 40 115 43–44 54 45–46 139–140 50 320 51 101 53 333 54 147 56 52 66 192

index of ancient sources 85–92 100 104 106 108–109 120 122 142 145 153–155 159–160 159–169 161

134 156 320 52 286 92 180 26 114 293 283, 286 287 210

De providentia I, II xi, xiii, 5, 32, 69, 148 1.20, 22 251 2.13 149, 250 2.17 52 2.17–20 56, 112 2.18 111, 114 2.21 250 2.24 149 2.42 251 2.52, 56 251 2.57 190 2.61 111 2.66 172 2.67 235, 249 71 111 109 172 156 114 166 114 Quaestiones et solutiones in Exodum xi, xii 1.4 337 1.7 283 1.8 257 1.23 137 1.19 191 2.3 283 2.42–43 139 2.68 115 2.72 327 2.87 191 2.118 251 11.59 114

401

index of ancient sources Quaestiones et solutions in Genesin xi, xii 1.4 268 1.6 251 1.8 268 1.21 295 2.3, 6 250 2.12 267, 270 2.17c 320 2.44 116 2.62 268 2.66 191 2.110 191 3.3 208, 250, 251, 317 3.5, 16 185 3.8 62, 263, 350 3.47 156 4.15 190 4.47 104 4.110 116 4.151 267 4.152 185 4.168 52, 300 Quis rerum divinarum heres sit xii 1–2 142 5 233 20 212 21 351 35–36 139 40–42 214 45–46 63 46 306 48 147, 205 68–78 62 69 334, 335, 346 69–70 142 70 115 71 63 76 63, 139, 140 78 63 79 276 81 62, 182, 263 82 350 84–85 62 102 109 123 54 131 190

134–140 166 170 182 184 209 213 214 216 223 226 226–227 226–229 234–235 241 243 246 249 252–253 253 253–254 255 271 274 282–283 284 297 299

121 115, 129 65, 267 275 54 122 114 185 267, 268 112 170 122 121 182 185 310 121 228 61 69 205 336 233 257 121 114 111 111

Quod deterius potiori insidari soleat xii, 47 8 122 41–42 121 43 52, 111 44 114 53–54 52 72 121 82–83 305 86 62, 263 99 162 101 247 114 321 133 180 140 115 147–148 286 160 53, 99, 115, 327 178 113, 162

402 Quod Deus sit immutabilis xii 5 351 10–13 210 11 115 12 268 35 130 40 130 49 185 64 292 66 52 67–68 114 78–80 129 87 111 97 26, 104 110 115 111 191 112 91 113 296 137 287 138 305 157 296 162 115 170 290 174 332 Quod omnis probus liber sit xiii, 2, 5, 24–25, 32 5 140 7 190 12 193 13 251, 292 15 281 26 232 31 154, 212, 246 35 52 39 52 43 52 44 351 47 290 57 185 62 299 71 299 71–72 299 73 110 73–74 167 75 54, 102, 103 75–76 58, 169 75–91 24–25, 30, 35, 102

index of ancient sources 76 76–77 76–78 77 78 79 80–82 81 81–83 82 83 84 85 85–87 86 87 88 89 89–91 91 92 96 98 114 124 137 143 159 160

59, 161 146 59 158 108 291 268 193 210 102, 184 185 175 158 146 59, 158, 216 158, 278, 297 182 281 228 30, 54, 206, 299 167 206 105 290 256 180 105 113 185, 350

De sacrificiis Abelis et Caini xii, 47 7 139 8–10 263 13 53 21–33 253 24 163 25 170 31 114 32 114 39 52 44 52 59 129 63 336 65 109 78 105 98 129 100 200, 257 102 287

403

index of ancient sources 103 111 118 118–119 120 127

199 182 52 53, 99 26, 53 53, 112

De sobrietate 13 18 40 55 56 67 69 75 144

xii 335, 336 320 147 341 351 163 292 131 131

De somniis 1.1 1.10 1.27 1.31 1.35 1.41 1.50 1.54 1.57–68 1.68 1.77 1.78 1.86 1.102 1.110 1.116 1.120 1.121 1.123 1.124 1.124–126 1.125 1.126 1.151 1.153 1.205 1.217 1.218 1.231 1.232

xii, 56 320 153 214 278 52 160 124 170 250 163 52 53 296 26, 104 52 140 26, 104 207 302 205 61 62, 207, 302 62, 257 63 232 188 217, 274 52 115 55

1.248 1.251 1.255 2.1 2.9, 55 2.24 2.46 2.47–62 2.56 2.73 2.90 2.123 2.109 2.123–128 2.125 2.126 2.127–128 2.139 2.145 2.165 2.167–168 2.168 2.174 2.183 2.184 2.185 2.188 2.200 2.205 2.210 2.232 2.270 2.273 2.277

147 111 156 143 199 231 169 156 240 37 52 192 251 210 192 194 183, 192 181, 198 233 93 235 234 110 52 191, 199 283 177 320 334 211–212 52 336 55 338

De specialibus legibus 1.13–14 122 1.21–31 130 1.24 181 1.28 105 1.28–30 154 1.31 52, 129 1.42 52 1.48 129 1.50 180 1.50–53 293 1.71 197 1.74 197 1.83 300

404 De specialibus legibus (cont.) 1.84 218, 336 1.86 124 1.88 110 1.93 110 1.94 336 1.98–100 304 1.124 216 1.127 212 1.134 207 1.146 305 1.147 110 1.149 205 1.155 114 1.169 190 1.172–173 327 1.174 212, 235 1.175 212 1.183 110, 269 1.189 212 1.193 321 1.209 180 1.219 180 1.249 327 1.255–256 303 1.256–266 277 1.257 114 1.261 197 1.269 180 1.272 321 1.274 304 1.280 276 1.299 37 1.309 54, 99 1.319 263 1.321 192 1.322 180 1.323 129 1.325 191, 256, 257 1.329 110 1.331 135 1.340 185 1.342 296 1.343 105 1.344 191 1.345 62, 263 1.382–389 129 2.10 216 2.20 61, 217, 218, 290

index of ancient sources 2.21 2.25–31 2.30 2.40 2.41 2.44 2.50 2.56 2.56–62 2.56–71 2.58 2.58–59 2.59 2.60–62 2.62 2.62–64 2.64 2.65 2.65–67 2.67 2.69 2.69–70 2.86 2.88 2.91 2.102 2.123 2.125 2.147 2.151 2.164 2.167 2.176 2.176–178 2.188 2.192 2.194–199 2.195 2.199 2.200 2.211 2.224–225 2.228 2.239 2.255 2.259 2.241 3.1–2 3.1–6

52 283 287 277 191, 210, 277 163, 192 253 263, 267 268, 276 210 268 191 293 210 192, 193, 275, 313 109–110 31, 104, 266 26, 268 210 293 293 211 191 263 233 26 293 313 344 336 105, 154 52, 165 268, 269 269, 270 110 53 191 205 321 191 268 216 185 52 118 52 52 65 x, 30, 65, 162

405

index of ancient sources 3.3 3.12–36 3.25 3.27 3.29 3.32–34 3.34 3.37 3.37–39 3.40–41 3.63 3.96 3.104 3.105 3.118 3.137 3.149 3.169 3.171 3.178 3.180 3.187 3.205–206 4.59 4.60 4.74 4.79–84 4.79–91 4.80–94 4.82 4.82–85 4.86 4.86–91 4.91 4.92 4.92–94 4.95 4.96–97 4.108 4.123 4.128 4.179 4.184 4.191 4.192 4.204 4.215 4.226–229 4.230

xviii 261 165 52 37 286 261 162 253, 254, 256, 257, 261, 285 257 277 231 143 26 130 293 200 192 199 129 320 139 277 105 136 210 305 114 305 214 305 170, 305 114 305 305 305 305 205 185 129 169 165 297 52, 304 115 114 332 151 105

De virtutibus 1–4 1–50 6 7 10 13–14 17 18–21 50–174 60 62 64 65 85 131–132 138 141 149–151 162 182 185 185–186 193 203–205 209 213–214 217 218

xiii, 47, 104 108 107 150, 156 156 37 205 104 60, 216, 257 165 185 163 101 62, 263 146 114 130 165 151 114 212 52 54, 99 232 268 292 158, 159 52 232

De vita contemplativa 1 6, 7, 8, 9, 26, 33, 37, 58, 62, 90, 103, 144, 148, 149, 154, 159, 175, 180, 184, 196, 226, 281, 297, 317, 351 1–2 27, 39, 167, 248 2 9, 14, 56, 57, 59, 91, 101, 104, 109, 115, 117, 138, 139, 143, 169, 172, 174, 183, 187, 189, 199, 219, 276, 282, 290, 293, 304, 320, 343, 348 3 122, 133, 134, 135, 137, 167, 168, 172, 265 3–4 16, 121 3–9 138 3–10 39, 100, 167, 169, 223, 226, 251, 263 3–11 23 4 195, 250, 312

406 De vita contemplativa (cont.) 4–6 117 5 122, 124, 125, 127, 128, 139 6 137, 142, 180, 200, 335 6–7 228 6–37 220 7 15, 137, 145, 220 8 119, 128, 137, 138, 144, 220, 281 8–9 7, 15, 127, 133 8–10 127 9 90, 137, 220, 247 9–12 174 10 7–8, 111, 135, 137, 220, 235 10–11 136, 143, 147 10–13 268 11 10, 39, 53, 90, 131, 138, 157, 166, 227 11–12 60, 117, 255, 276 12 91, 141, 143, 147, 176, 220, 334, 339, 346 12–13 39, 147, 149 12–14 151 12–19 236 13 60, 61, 91, 141, 142, 144, 149, 220, 261, 268, 286, 295, 346 13–14 160 13–16 59 13–17 61 13–20 60, 101 14 8, 29, 108, 145, 151, 165, 183, 184, 189, 195, 220, 239, 287 14–15 39, 167, 169 14–16 9, 145, 152, 153 16 6, 91, 109, 144, 145, 150, 152, 157, 158, 183, 189, 220, 281, 287 16–17 39 17 18, 59, 105, 109, 152, 156, 157, 187, 199, 220, 230, 276 18 42, 63, 145, 158, 169, 170, 220, 283, 286, 288 18–20 9, 10, 39, 157, 268 18–23 10 19 91, 109, 112, 161, 170, 220, 285, 287 19–20 173 20 51, 61, 163, 164, 175

index of ancient sources 21 21–40 22 22–23 23 24 24–25 24–29 24–33 25

25–26 26

27 28

28–29 28–30 29

30

30–31 30–33 30–34 30–37 31

32

32–33 33

101, 166, 170, 174, 176, 220, 239 282 91, 169, 170, 220 9, 39, 51, 158, 171, 173 24, 220 9, 39, 61, 149, 164, 171, 174– 175, 204, 220, 248 216 39 216 39, 62, 172, 174, 176, 178, 181, 185, 188, 189, 197, 204, 206, 220, 252, 266, 293, 317, 318 183 10, 37, 39, 91, 109, 174, 179, 180, 181, 183, 189, 195, 204, 206, 207, 220, 287, 293, 351 14, 39, 62, 180–181, 204, 270, 272, 276, 318, 347 91, 178, 179, 180, 182–183, 189, 206, 266, 285, 287, 293, 317 6, 10, 14, 39, 186, 196, 230, 252, 317, 348 59, 258 62, 108, 109, 139, 148, 175, 176, 179, 185, 199, 314, 317, 320, 321, 322, 346 164, 174, 177, 183, 189, 191, 197, 201, 204, 206, 209, 246, 267, 272, 275, 278, 299, 308, 315 7, 9, 10, 11, 14, 313, 315 267, 272 39, 61, 209, 220 348 39, 121, 150, 180, 192, 204, 210, 220, 278, 287, 306, 308, 310, 312, 313, 314, 315, 321, 346 7, 109, 149, 173, 176, 187, 191, 209, 218, 246, 267, 272, 301, 313 39, 59, 194, 258, 272, 282, 288 42, 92, 101, 174, 197, 204, 206, 220, 288, 308, 326, 330

407

index of ancient sources 34

34–35 34–37 35

35–37 36 36–37 37

38 39 40

40–43 40–46 40–47 40–56 40–63 41 41–44 42 43 44 44–47 44–63 45 45–47 46 47 48 48–56 48–57 49 50 50–51

10, 14, 37, 131, 172, 180, 181, 182, 183, 189, 210–211, 215, 220, 232, 248, 285, 318, 346, 347, 351 40, 212, 329 59, 62, 204, 215, 222, 272, 275 109, 163, 165, 180, 190, 195, 204, 207, 209, 210, 248, 285, 287, 308, 333 11 172, 191, 204, 209–211, 215, 220, 246, 267, 270, 300, 333 40, 264 165, 171, 172, 204, 209, 215, 220, 272, 300, 301, 302, 305, 324, 325 40, 61, 92, 174, 215–218, 216, 257, 272 40, 92, 100, 216, 222 8, 18, 92, 154, 222, 224, 225, 227, 229, 234, 247, 253, 264, 265, 272, 293 227 237 40, 223, 224–237, 345, 346 225, 238 15, 23, 40, 203, 222–263, 223, 224, 225, 226, 265, 276 230–231, 242, 325 224, 237 92, 231–232, 234, 239, 293 92, 230, 233 229, 233–234, 293 227 301 92–93, 223, 225, 229, 234, 253, 301 236 93, 224, 225, 235 135, 224, 236 149, 175, 226, 234, 238, 248, 247, 289, 277, 293 40 223, 237–249 61, 93, 108, 240–241, 242, 289 241–242, 294 256

51 51–52 52 53 53–56 53–59 54 55 55–56 56 57 57–59 57–63 58 59 59–60 59–61 59–62 60 60–62 61 62 63

63–64 64

64–65 64–90 65 66

66–67 66–89 67

67–68

93, 242–244, 300 273 93, 244, 245, 247, 254, 259 212, 244–245, 246 93, 215 241 245, 246–247, 248 106, 245, 247–248, 305 301 223, 248–249, 253, 277, 301, 305 29, 93, 108, 184, 234, 239, 250–251, 293, 333 265 40, 223, 227, 249–263, 285 7, 94, 148, 226, 249, 251– 253, 290 108, 248, 251, 253–254, 259, 285, 290, 305 144 260 249 37, 62, 105, 107, 180, 254– 258, 260, 263, 351 242 140, 145, 248, 258–260, 305, 306 165, 258, 260–261 8, 94, 104, 135, 180, 223, 230, 249, 251, 262, 264, 265, 266, 341 62, 166, 167, 178 10, 40, 139, 148, 183, 185, 203, 226, 227, 263, 264–266, 267, 312 264–272 222, 227, 264–348, 282 7, 40, 180, 191, 209, 246, 266–271, 276, 284, 293, 300 59, 67, 176, 180, 201, 272– 277, 278, 306, 307, 308, 329, 346 10, 11, 15, 40, 70, 272 61 61, 65, 94, 109, 139, 144, 148, 179, 183, 187, 189, 193, 195, 199, 206, 275, 278–281, 287, 297, 302, 306, 307 329

408 De vita contemplativa (cont.) 67–69 306 67–90 204 68 109, 111, 139, 148, 149, 162, 163, 172, 180, 195, 239, 261, 279, 282–288, 285, 287, 295, 307, 330, 331 68–69 10, 11, 14, 17, 40, 59, 201, 282–291 69 61, 94, 108, 109, 164, 171, 281, 282, 288–291, 291, 294, 297, 306 70 149, 156, 175, 291–293, 294, 313, 308 70–71 294 70–72 10, 15, 40, 161, 275, 290, 291– 300, 307, 329 71 8, 226, 293–296, 300, 323 71–72 278, 308 72 26, 37, 65, 153, 164, 180, 206, 296–300, 310, 351 72–75 70 73 62, 195, 207, 211, 212, 226, 293, 300–304, 308, 324, 325 73–74 8, 11, 40, 300–305, 326 74 248, 284, 304–305 75 8, 94–95, 140, 149, 183, 193, 195, 274, 275, 278, 279, 293, 306–308, 329 75–76 329 75–77 40, 195, 196, 346 75–79 8, 14, 306–313 76 313–314 77 95, 192, 193, 314–317, 329 78 6, 11, 42, 43, 62, 95, 108, 139, 148, 159, 179, 180, 181, 184, 186, 255, 293, 317, 320 78–79 40 79 95, 101, 109, 187, 195, 199, 274, 320–321, 329 80 40, 140, 188, 189, 306, 321– 324, 332 80–81 332 81 26, 68, 206, 211, 212, 293, 302, 324–326, 329 81–82 40, 308, 342–348 82 149, 175, 326–328 83 108, 265, 293, 301, 328–332, 335, 341

index of ancient sources 83–88 83–89 84 85

85–88 85–90 86 87 88 89

89–90 90

De vita Mosis 1.1 1.3 1.14 1.17 1.18 1.21–24 1.26 1.27 1.29 1.30 1.38 1.48 1.54 1.111 1.118 1.148 1.153 1.156 1.158 1.175 1.180 1.190 1.207 1.229 1.255 1.283

59 40, 328–348 188, 332–333, 334 63, 95–96, 142–143, 176, 188, 255, 333–337, 338, 339, 343, 344, 346 37 144 338–339 108, 143, 266, 302, 334, 336, 337, 339–343 108, 118, 144, 176, 189, 209, 328, 343–345 9, 26, 59, 109, 144, 164, 172, 179, 181, 182, 189, 270, 272, 273, 276, 281, 287, 293, 345– 348 318 8, 10, 37, 41, 96, 100, 115, 139, 140, 141, 148, 180, 215, 227, 297, 299, 334, 346, 349–352 xii, 32, 349 263 185 190 110 289 109 320 263 350 110 169 31, 104 302 90 210 351 147, 216 351 263 170 333 179, 180 268 197 333 177

409

index of ancient sources 2.2 2.5 2.12 2.16 2.21–22 2.31 2.41–42 2.51 2.67 2.68–69 2.75 2.80 2.87 2.90 2.92 2.98 2.104 2.105 2.155 2.122–123 2.133 2.135

2

109 52 30 192 52, 209, 211 197 192 114 52, 53, 304, 351 285 275 268 190 218 197 124 212 110 191 124 124 53

2.138 2.139 2.149 2.160 2.176 2.177 2.181 2.189 2.205 2.210 2.211 2.213–220 2.215–216 2.241 2.251 2.256–257 2.257 2.258 2.263 2.274 2.278

219 52, 114 53, 110 185 185 185 114 180 263 267 114, 183, 211 210 109, 183, 193, 313 197 169 340 340 340 268 53 185

12:21 12:22 14 14:21 14:22 15

278 213 344 338, 339 338 322, 323, 330, 332, 335, 336, 343 336, 341 339 342 333 341, 342 213 214, 215 214 23 113 118 211 63, 297 69 297 323

Old Testament/Septuagint/Hebrew Bible

Genesis 1:2 1:9 1:26–27 2 2:1 2:1–18:4 2:4–28:9 2:7 2:19–20 3 5:24 14 27:40 30:13 45:16

xii, 105 65 296 143, 268 262 123 xi xi 268 135 252 158 305 292 67 52

Exodus 3:14 3:16, 18 4:29 6:2–30:10 12

xii 115 278 278 xi 337

15:1 15:8 15:11 15:19 15:20–21 16:1 16:3 16:8 15 20:1–17 20:4–5 20:10 20:12 21:12 21:15 25:23–30

410

index of ancient sources

Exodus (cont.) 26:33 28–29 31:11 32:6 35:13 37:10–16 39:36

327 274 351 333 323 323 323

Leviticus 6:3 10:8–11 14:4 16:1–4 16:4 17:10–14 19:3 20:13 24:5–9 24:7 24:8–9 49–54

274 304 213 274 274 303 297 257 323 212, 327 327 213

Numbers 4:3–5 4:7 8:25 12:6–8 12:9–10 13:12 16–30 18:3 19:18–20 20:1–2 27:2–3 LXX

64 323 326 342 342 343 278 327 213 342 191

Deuteronomy 4:18–19 5:4–21 5:8–9 5:14 5:16 19:12 20:19 21:2–9 21:6–7 21:19–20 22:8 22:15–21

xiii 123 113 118 211 63, 297 278 151 278 276 278 200 278

23:1 23:18 25:7–9 30 32:39

56 276 278 219 115

2 Samuel/2 Kingdoms 2:8 217 3:17 278 5:3 278 6:5, 14, 16 333 13:14 217 17:4 278 19:24 52 1 Kings/3 Kingdoms 4:32 322 4:33 213 7:48 323 8:22 347 19:13 217 19:19 217 2 Kings/4 Kingdoms 9:15, 16–17 53 1 Chronicles 9:31 9:33 13:8 23:6 23:28–29 25:7–31

323 323 333 275 323 323

2 Chronicles 3:19 5:12 13:11 20:7 22:7 28:18

323 323 323 351 351 323

Ezra/1 Esdras 1:4 1:16 2:17 5:52

52 275 52 211

411

index of ancient sources Nehemiah 9:25 12:27 23:30

207 333 275

Tobit 1:7 1:10–13 2:10

52 303 53, 56

Judith 8:6, 8 10:2 10:5 11:17 12:2 15:12–13

211 211 303 52 303 333

51:7 73:13 96:1–13 98:1 105:15 109:8 141:2 149:3 150:4

213 276 331 331 214 310 347 333 333

Proverbs 1:8 6:20 14:19 19:6 29:26

297 297 52 52 52

Ecclesiastes

109

Song of Songs 7:1

333

Esther 1:1–13 2:19 6:10 9:18–26

52 52 52 330

1Maccabees 4:56 7:59 13.50

330 330 330

2Maccabees 1:10 10:6 15:9 15:36

185 330 178 330

Wisdom of Solomon 4:11 143 8:2, 16, 18 163 10:1 183 10:9 52 10:15–17 337 13:1–2 118 13:11 130 13:15 122 13–14 134 13–18 118 16:12 53

Job 14:1–5 26:3 33:1–9 36:3 40:3 40:5 52:2–5, 12

322 147 147 147 147 322 322

Sirach Prol. LXX 24:19–23 26:29 31:12–31 32:7–13 32(35):20 38:1–8

178 183 276 21 21 52 53

Psalms 26:6 30:12 33:1–22 40:3

276 333 331 331

Isaiah 1:14 6:9 41:8 42:6

214 136 351 168

412

index of ancient sources

Isaiah (cont.) 42:10 44:9–20 54:17

331 130 52

44:17–18 44:21 46:17–18

274 304 303

Daniel 6:11 7:10

181 52

Hosea 13:6

214

Baruch 6 (Letter of Jeremiah) 1:11 131 1:70 131

Joel 3:1–2

340

Ezekiel 16:49

Zechariah 3.3–5

274

Jeremiah 17:24–26 25–26 38

3

68 52 52

214

New Testament

Matthew, Gospel of 5:17 178 6:6 50, 177 6:11 249 6:19–21 147 7:12 178 10:37 146, 159 19:29 145, 160 22:40 178 23:9 298 24:26 50, 177 27:24 276 Mark, Gospel of 1:13 1:29–31 3:35 4:10–12 4:34 6:30–44 8:1–10 10:29–30 10:44–45 15:41

295 295 298 136 312 295 295 145, 159 295 295

Luke, Gospel of 1:5, 8 275 1:23 326 11:3 249

12:3 14:26 16:13 16:16 17:8 18:29 24:27

50, 177 145, 159 145 29, 31, 178 299 145 178

John, Gospel of 1:45 178 12:6 326 19:29 213, 326 The Acts of the Apostles 1:20 310 5:1–11 146, 158 6:1–6 308 10:11 218 11:5 218 11:30 280 13:15 178 14:23 280 16:4 280 20:17 280, 310 21–26 66 28 310 Romans 1:18–31

134

413

index of ancient sources 1:23 1:26–27 2:17–29 3:21 8:1–8 16:1

134 253 66 178 66 307

1Corinthians 4:15 13:12

298 319

2Corinthians 3:18 12:2, 4 Galatians 2 5:15 5:19–22 Philippians 3:20 Colossians 2:6–23

319 143

66 229 225

280 280

Hebrews 11:13–16 11:37 13:14

163, 350 217 350

James 2:23 5:14

351 280

1 Peter 2:17 2:25 5:1–5 5:9

298 280 280 298

2 John 1

280

3 John 1

280

Revelation 3:4, 18 4:4 5:9 6:11 7:9–14 15:2–6 19:18

274 274 331 274 274 342 273

350

66

1Timothy 2:8 3:1–7 3:2 3:11 4:14 5:1–2

275 280, 310 311 308 280 280

2Timothy 2:24

311

4

Titus 1:5 1:7

Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha

Apocalypse of Abraham 9–10 351 2Enoch 16:7

119

Jubilees 2:21 6:14

211 181

The Letter of Aristeas 31 183 152 253 160 181 213–265 79 303 192 305–306 276

414

index of ancient sources

3Maccabees 5:25 6:32, 35 4Maccabees 1:1–2, 15, 16 5:33–35 7:21–23 18:10

347 333

Testament of Naphtali 3.4 253 183 183 183 178

Pseudo-Philo Liber antiquitatum biblicarum 25–29 179 Pseudo-Phocylides 3, 190–191 253 3, 213–214 253 175–176 253 Testament of Asher 1 219 Testament of Abraham A15, 16 351

5

Testament of Job 40.3 347

Testament of Solomon 8:1–2 118 Sibylline Oracles 2.245 3.13–14 3.31 3.573 3.58–59 3.587–589 3.591–593 4.163–170 5.82–83 5.356 5.403–405 5.495 8.44 8.14.61 Fr. 3.19

351 130 130 276 130 130 276 276 130 130 130 130 130 130 130

Dead Sea Scrolls

1QS 3.13–4.26 10.1–3, 10 10:15

137 181 347

4Q

1QH 20:4–7

188 181

1QM 14.12–14

181

1QS 3.17–19 3:13–4:26

219 219

158 255 257 262 270.7.i.14 270.7.13–15 365.6a–c 366 367 400–407 408 427–432 502.19 503

434 137 137 137 298 279 343 434 434 188, 323 181 188 279 181

1Q 29a 35

137 188

11Q 17

188, 323

415

index of ancient sources 6

Greek and Latin Literature

Acta Alexandrinorum 2

Vespae 1206

Aelian (Claudius Aelianus) De natura animalium 15.11 254 Varia historia 12.32 273 13.22 18

Aristotle Historia animalium 6.2 254 Metaphysica 985b23–986a3 116 986a15–21 116 987a 15 116 1090a20–29 116 Ethica nichomachea 1.5 29 2.2 25, 104 10.7–8 29 Physica 203a10 116 Politica 1253b–1255b 292 Rhetorica 1.2.10 27 1357b–1358a 27

Alciphron Epistulae 2.27

163

Anacreon Ode 43

208

Apuleius Apologia 56 273 Metamorphoses 176 11.9–10 274 Aristides, Aelius Apologia 3–7 Orationes 8.56 19 39.5. 45.26–28 47.23 47–52 48.47 50.16 104 Aristobulus Fragmenta Frag. 2 Frags. 3–5 Frag. 4 Frag. 5

119 126 52 52 20 52 52 52 52 52

xi. 266 185 185 268

Aristophanes 250 Thesmophoriazusae 141–142 216

Arrian Anabasis 3.1.5

242

163

Artemidorus Daldianus Onirocritica 1.66 213–214 2.3 216 Athenaeus Deipnosophistae 5.3–19/187b–192c 252 5.12/187c 252 5.2/186a–190a 22 Epitome 2.40c 225 Cato De agricultura 59

299

416

index of ancient sources

Cicero De divinatione 1 28 1.129 179 Epistulae ad Atticum 10.8 38 Epistulae ad familiares 14.1 38 14.11 38 De fato 39–43 295 De finibus 5.29.87 148 5.57 29, 103 5.91 149 De natura deorum 1.15 120 2.25, 26, 28 120 Paradoxa Stoicorum 33–41 292 Pro Sexto Roscio Amerino 27 38 Tusculanae disputationes 1.10.20 305 2.43, 53 107 5.27 131 5.39 148 5.91 149 In Verrem 38 241 Cornutus De natura deorum 3 120 4 120 19 120 28 120 Cynic Epistles Epistle of Diogenes 44 213–214 Demetrius Fragmenta 2, 5

xi

Dichaerchus Fragmenta 29, 31

29, 103

Dio Cassius Historia Romana 47.15 17 68.32.1–2 5 Dio Chrysostom Ad Alexandrinos 40 1 Oration 7 28 27.3–4 313 Diodorus Siculus Bibliotheca historia 1.12 120 1.21 326 2.47.1 172 2.58.1 291 4.3.3 335 5.19.5 172 16.26.6 284 17.52 163 17.52.6 1 34.1.1–3 165 40.3 165 Diogenes Laertius Vitae philosophorum 1.1–11 167 2.6–7 148 2.20 149 2.25 149 2.34 214 5.5 126 6.9 302 7.12 292 7.59 110 7.92 29 7.110–111 304 7.121 30 7.130 29 7.147 119, 129 8.1 116 8.24 179 9.34–36 148 Dioscorides Pedanius De materia medica 212

417

index of ancient sources Epictetus Dissertationes 1.1.7 1.1.25 1.1.26 2.2.21 3.3.2 3.3.5 3.3.24 3.10 3.22.81–82 4.1 Euripides Bacchae 695 Troades 41–42 Galen Protrepticus 31

37 37 37 37 37 298 37 182 298 27

334

231

Heraclitus Quaestiones Homericae 43 154

Hesiod Opera et dies 338–339 770 770–771 Scutum 393–397

78, 154 135 216 105, 155 216 154 229 218 229 208 191 216 216 216 216 216

284

Greek Anthology Asclepiades, AP 9.752 346

Herodotus Historiae 1.182 3.113

Homer Iliad 2.211–211 10.133 13.5–6 22.441 Odyssey 9 7.107 9.373 12.39–40 12.127–129 14.488, 500 14.504, 513 14.529 19.337 20.4

284 349

181 227 191 208

Hippocrates De aere, aquis et locis 4 302 Aphorismata 1.1 [4.458.3] 153

Horace Epistulae 12.12–13 Satirae 1.8.1–3

1 148 131

Iamblichus De mysteriis 6.5–7 176 De vita Pythagorica 9–12 30 26–93 30 64–67 321 97–98 301 100 273 106–109 212 107 179 107–109 303 109 301 110–115 321 149 273 167–169 158 256 347 Protrepticus 360k 136 Josephus Antiquitates judaicae 2.327 274 2.318–346 343, 344 2.346 323, 330, 342

418 Antiquitates judaicae (cont.) 3.54 343 3.225 326 3.279 304 4.212 181 4.303 323 4.78 343 5.189 52, 55 6.341 52, 55 7.156 274 7.305 323 8.354 295 9.28, 33 295 9.121 55 9.212 235 10.169 235 11.62 55 12.8 2 13.62–73 2 13.171–213 58 13.171–172 102 13.172–173 296 13.310–314 102 13.311–313 58 13.371–379 58 14.98–99 2 14.127–132 2 14.188–189 2 14.213–216 70 14.215 71 15.15 235 15.371–379 102 16.45–46 68 16.148 233, 235 17.345–348 102 18.18–19 59, 296 18.18–22 102 18.19 58 18.21 59, 291 18.159–160 xi, 3 18.257–258 3 18.257–260 4, 6 18.259 xi, 3 18.259–260 4 18.55–59 34 19.276–277 xi, 3 19.278 4, 5 19.280–291 4 20.100 xi, 3

index of ancient sources 20.100–103 353–364 Bellum judaicum 1.33 1.78–80 1.175 1.187 2.128–129 1.222 1.242 1.272 1.289 1.302 1.437 1.460 1.462 1.463 1.464 1.580 1.658 2.1 2.4 2.100 2.112–113 2.118–161 2.123, 137 2.124 2.136 2.146 2.119–161 2.120–121 2.122 2.124 2.129 2.129–133 2.146 2.147–149 2.160–161 2.169–177 2.220 2.297 2.350 2.476 2.487–488 2.494–498 2.556 2.567 3.8 3.368, 423

5 2 2 58, 102 2 2, 55 347 55 55 55 55 55 235 55 55 55 55 55 55, 57 274 55 5 102 102, 303 240, 273 55 55 279 30 59 59 161 59 59 279 206 59 34 5 55 55 235 3 3 235 102 52, 55 235

419

index of ancient sources 3.525, 527 4.137 4.249 4.365 4.561–563 5.45–46 5.145 5.198–200 5.199 5.201–205 5.229 5.317 5.522–526 6.237 7.409–420 7.421–436 7.424 Contra Apionem 1.30 1.32 1.33–35 1.186–189 1.199 2.1 2.7 2.21 2.37 2.49–56 2.60 2.80 2.89–96 2.89–111 2.102–104 2.110 2.135 2.137–139 2.148 2.199 2.190–191 2.199, 215 2.273–275 Vita 54 421 Juvenal Satirae 1.94–95 5.56–62

235 235 52, 55 55 240 xi, 5 58, 102 199 199 xi 304 200 151 xi 5 2 55 4, 37 304 296 3 2 304 8 21 6 2 2 2 6 6 21 199 21 6, 107 21 107 253 253 253 253 193 55

246 241

Livy Historia 39.8–19

142, 335

Lucian Amores 22 254 Astrologia 23 284 De Morte Peregrini 13 298 Symposium 43–47 231 Lycophron Alexandria 348–364 1278–1279 Macrobius Saturnalia 1.20.13 1.20.16–17 1.21.11–12 1.21.16–27 1.21.22

284 284 124, 125, 126–127 125, 140 126 127 127 124

Maximus of Tyr Dissertationes 32.5 135 Minucius Felix Octavius 22.2

125–126

Musonius Rufus Diatribae 12 244 18a–b, 19a–b 239 Ovid Fasti 1.79 Metamorphoses 9.733–734 14.129–153 14.174–957

273 254 284 230

420

index of ancient sources

Pausanias Graeciae descriptio 2.24.1 284 9.34.1 191 10.12.6 284 Philostratus Vita Apollonii 1–6 1.13 6.1–28 6.19 8.7

167 148 169 132 146

Photius Lexicon 103 104 105

35 35 49

Plato Apologia 9b–c 18b 22c 31b–c Cratylus 404c Crito 54d Ion 2 533d–534a Leges 711b 793d 798–799 836c 838e 841d 887e 918b 949e Menexenus 81c–d 99d Meno 99c Parmenides 142c–144e

149 149 334 146 120 142 120 142, 334 105 105 188 254 254 254 181 105 309 319 143 334 116

Phaedo 60d–61b 69c Phaedrus 64c–d 66b–c 66e 69c 72a 81b 83d 94b–e 227e–230e 229e 233d 241e 244b–245a 246d–249d 247a–b 249a 249e 250e 251d 253a 259b–c 263d 264c 275d–e Philebus 48c Politicus 271d–272b Respublica 3.416d 372b 4.5 4.440b–d 423e 442c 448e 457d 458c–d 460b–d 474d 492b7 5.462c 508b–509c 517d–519d 533d

208 142 305 305 96 334 319 305 305 305 162 250 105 334 334 140 140 142 334 254 144 142, 334 208 334 317 287 250 303 298–299 158 289 28 305 299 305 234 299 299 299 255 191 158 139 139, 140 139, 140

421

index of ancient sources 540 543 6 7.518c 7.733d 9.580d 10.601a–b 10.606a Symposium 3, 656c 173a 176b 176s 178d–180c 180D–181c 181a 184b–c 189d–190b 189e 191d 194e–197e 200d 206e–207a 208c–d 209a–d 210a–211d 212a–b 214b 216e 218a 233c Theaetetus 176 Timaeus 26b 32d 35a–b 40b–41b 42d–43b 47a–c 48b–c 52d–61c 69b–c 69e–70a 70a–e 71a–72d 71e 73d 76a–d

299 299 116 116 136 305 106 305 23, 29, 144 235 250 235 324 259 254 324 254 262 258 258 250 144 144 287 287 345 144, 287 324 146 142 346 281 122, 185 116 120 350 129 129 182 120 120 129 305 305 180 179, 334 305 305

78a Pliny the Elder Naturalis historia 2.24 5.15 5.17.4 10.28 10.166 13.69 13.76 25 25.94 26.5

129

123 58, 102 164 133 254 171 171 3 234 56

Pliny the Younger 307–308 Epistulae 2.10

308

Plotinus Enneades

xii

Plutarch xi Adversus Colotem 1124e 229 Alexander 9.4–11 231 Amatorius 758d–e 346 Antonius 70 164 Brutus 990d 254 Consolatio ad uxorem 113b 230 De defectu oraculorum 51 284 432c 179 Demetrius 23.5 284 De E apud Delphos 17 191 De facie in orbe lunae 929B 148 De genio Socratis 589c–d 179 De Iside et Osirid 176 2/351e–352a 132

422 De Iside et Osirid (cont.) 4/352–353 134 32/363e 120 40/367c 120 352d 217 De liberis educandis 11.11d–f 255 Lycurgus 16 289 Lysander 15.5 250 Nicias 23 148 On the Generation of the Soul in the Timaeus xi Pericles 16 148 Pompey 46, 2.516f 190 Protagoras 250 De Pythiae Oraculis 22 284 396c–d 188 401c 250 Quaestionum convivialum 1.1 313 9.3.1 191 613c–f 313 4.671D–672B 21 713a 237 Quomodo adolescens poetas audire debeat 18a 135 De recta ratione audiendi 308 16 113 37–39 108 39c 196 42f–43d 316 44b 196 44f–45a 255 47d–48a 316 48d 196 Septem sapientium convivium 156d 313 De superstitione 166d 161 De tuenda sanitate praecepta 124d–e 214

index of ancient sources 513c–d 521f

214 214

Porphyry De abstinentia 1.53 4 4.6

29, 103 9–17, 30 100, 114, 130, 140, 159, 194, 303 4.6.1 189 4.6–8 8, 24, 132, 214 4.6.1 164 4.6.1–2 169 4.6.3 152, 179 4.6.4 169, 205 4.6.7 193, 196 4.6.8 173 4.6.8–9 204–205 4.6.9 177, 302 4.7.1–6 293 4.7.5 17 4.8 126, 205, 239, 321 4.8.2 183, 187 4.9 7, 9n1, 133 4.9.1–4 132 4.9.3 133 4.9.4 133 4.9.5 119, 187 4.9.9 133 4.11–13 102 4.12 303 4.17–18 167 4.123 59 De antro nympharum xi–xii Vita Plotini xii 7 146 Vita Pythagoras 12 348 Pseudo-Aristotle Problemata 8–9 235 Pseudo-Lucian Cynicus 5

302

423

index of ancient sources Ptolemy, Claudius Almagest Bks 7, 8 123 Geographica 4.5.24 171 4.5.56 2 Tetrabiblos 1.2 121 1.9 123 3.13/163 124 Quintilian Institutio oratoria 2.4.2 27 8.3.51 314 Seneca, Lucius Annaeus Epistulae morales ad Lucilium 2 239 7.7 237 8.5 214 12 243–244 17.3 239 18.9 214 20 239 40 112–113, 195, 313, 314 47 291 47.7 241 71.23 237 82.2 237 83 229 83.9–10 20 83.23–25 20 84.11 237 92.10 237 95.24 241 108.9–12 239 108.15–16 20 108.17–18 303 115.2 242 122.7 216 De Ira 3.14–17 20 De Otio 1.4 30 Sextus Empiricus Adversus mathematicos 9.37 124

9.190 292 10.315 120 Pyrrhoniae hypotyposes 3.118 120 3.245 292 Sidonius Epistulae 1.11

288

Simplicius Physica 31–34 157–159

120 120

Solinus Collectanea 35.9–12

58, 102

Statius Silvae 1.2

273

Strabo Geographica 5.17 7.3.9 10.3.7 10.3.10 10.3.12 10.3.13 15.1.59–60 17.1.1 17.1.1–10 17.1.7 17.1.10 17.1.14 17.1.15 17.1.17 17.1.28 17.8

2 155 142 142 142 142 167 172 1 172 172 170, 171 290 124 132 226

Suetonius Divus Augustus 74 Nero 51 Tiberius 38

246 242–243 18

424

index of ancient sources

Tacitus Agricola 21 239 Annales 2.85 18 Dialogus de oratoribus 6 308 Historiae 4.83.1 163 5.5 21 5.5.1 165 Thucydides Hist 1.21 2.17

106 324

Varro De re rustica 2.1–2

162

Vettius Valens 171.6

126

7

Vergil Aeneid 3.443–445 6.42–45 9.614–620

284 284 216

Vitruvius De architectura 5.1.6

198

Xenophon Symposium 1 1.2 1.8–9 2.24 3.1 4.5 8.8–11 8.32 250 Memorabilia 1.2.23 1.3.6 1.6.14

250 250 250 234 324 28 254 252 252 299 214 299

Christian Literature

Athanasius of Alexandria Vita Antonii 3 50 14–15 51 [Ps.] Athanasius of Alexandria Quaestiones ad Antiochum 37 347 Athenagoras Legatio pro Christianis 2 119 22 119 Clement of Alexandria Paedagogus 2.4 321 Protrepticus 2 132 2.41.4 128

6 37 Stromateis 1 1.71–73

119, 123 135 348 167

Didache 1 1–5

219 137

Doctrina Apostolorum 1 219 Epistle of Barnabas 18 219 Epiphanius of Salamis Panarion (Adversus haereses) 1.29.5.1–3 47 1.30.11.4 307

425

index of ancient sources Epistle of Barnabas 18–20 137 Eusebius Historia ecclesiastica 57 1.27 171 2.4.2–3 46 2.5.1 33, 34 2.5.2–5 4 2.5.6 32, 33 2.6.2 34 2.6.3 34 2.16–17 19, 31 2.16.2 46 2.17 42, 45–46 2.17.1 36, 46, 186 2.17.2 45, 46 2.17.3 32, 45, 99, 111 2.17.4 46 2.17.9 51 2.17.18 46 2.17–18 44 2.18.2 33 2.18.6 36 2.18.7 32, 99 2.18.8 4, 33 4.2.1–2 5 5.1 34 18.7–8 36, 46 Praeparatio evangelica 8.5.11 36, 37 8.6–7 36 8.6.1–9 36 8.7.1–20 36 8.8.5 37 8.10.3 266 8.10.4 185 8.11.1–18 25, 36 8.14 172 9.4 344 13.1–16 185 13.12.9–16 268 13.13.8 185 Hippolytus Refutatio omnium haeresium 9.13–28 102 9.21 59

9.22

58

Historia Monachorum 8.54, 9 177 Jerome Adversus Jovinianum libri 2.13 8, 133 De viris illustribus 8, 11 47 Justin Martyr Dialogue with Trypho 56 Moses of Chorene History of Armenia 3.60 42 Nag Hammadi Discourse on the Eighth and Ninth VI:6 140 Origen Contra Celsum 5.6

123

Pseudo-Clementines Homilies 1.9.1–2 66 2.4.2–3 66 Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite De Coelesti Hierarchia 42–43, 46, 48 Pseudo-Justin Cohortio ad Graecos 37.3 188 Rufinus Eusebii Historia 2.24

126

Synesius Dio, sive de suo ipsius instituto 3.2 58, 102

426

index of ancient sources

Tatian Oratio ad Graecos 21.3 120

8

Rabbinic Literature

Mishnah Abot. 2:15 Middot 2.5 Parah 4.1 Pesahim 10:1 Shabbat 7.2 14:3 Sheqalim 8:5 Sukkah 5:4 50b–52a Taʿanit 4.8 Yoma 3:6 5:1 7:1, 4

9

Tertullian Apologeticus 39 21 Testamentum Domini 1.35, 2.19 280

153 199 274 21 325 325 327 333 199, 355 274 274 327 274

Yebamot 6:6

286

Tosefta Shabbat. 13 Sota 15.11–13

335 303

Babylonian Talmud Baba Batra 60b 303 Berakot 26b 181 Qiddushim 81a 199 Sanhedrin 95b 208 Shabbat 118b–119a 274 Sukkah 51b, 52b 201 Genesis Rabba 8.1 262 Psalms Rabba 137.6 303

Papyri and Inscriptions

Corpus papyrorum judaicorum xi 2 2, 3 2.153 4, 8 55–107 2 152 2 153 5 154–159 2 418b xi 420a xi, 3 420b xi, 3 Oxyrhynchus Papyri 20–21 1.35 2 1.110 20

3.523 8.1129 8.1148 8.1149 9.1173 11.1356 11.1380 11.1382 18.2158 18.2190 36.2780 44.3203 50.3600 71.4832 82.5291

20 234 125 125 47 47 17 125 47 121 309 234 234 234 47

427

index of ancient sources P. Haun. 1.8 2.13

47 273

P.Michigan 757

290

P.Rylands 2.233

330

P.Yadin 20

310