The Hungry Are Dying: Beggars and Bishops in Roman Cappadocia

THE HUNGRY ARE DYING

OXFORD STUDIES IN HISTORICAL THEOLOGY Series Editor David C. Steinmetz, Duke University Editorial Board Irena Backus, Universite de Geneve Robert C. Gregg, Stanford University George M. Marsden, University of Notre Dame Wayne A. Meeks, Yale University Heiko A. Oberman, University of Arizona Images and Relics: Theological Perceptions and Visual Images in Sixteenth-Century Europe John Dillenberger The Body Broken: The Calvinist Doctrine of the Eucharist and the Symbolization of Power in Sixteenth-Century France Christopher Elwood Cassian the Monk Columba Stewart Human Freedom, Christian Righteousness: Philip Melanchthon's Exegetical Dispute with Erasmus of Rotterdam Timothy J. Wengert Primitivism, Radicalism, and the Lamb's War: The Baptist-Quaker Conflict in Seventeenth-Century England T. L. Underwood The Gospel of John in the Sixteenth Century: The Johannine Exegesis of Wolfgang Musculus Craig S. Farmer

Gerhard Sauter, Rheinische FriedrichWilhelms-Universita't Bonn Susan E. Schreiner, University of Chicago John Van Engen, University of Notre Dame Geoffrey Wainwright, Duke University Robert L. Wilken, University of Virginia The Unaccommodated Calvin: Studies in the Foundation of a Theological Tradition Richard A. Muller What Pure Eyes Could See: Calvin's Doctrine of Faith in Its Exegetical Context Barbara Pitkin The Gonfessionalization of Humanism in Reformation Germany Erika Rummell The Pleasure of Discernment: Gender, Genre, and Allegorical Rhetoric in Marguerite de Navarre's Heptameron Carol Thysell Reformation Readings of the Apocalypse: Geneva, Zurich, andWittenburg Irena Backus Writing the Wrongs: Women of the Old Testament among Biblical Commentators from Philo through the Reformation John L. Thompson The Hungry Are Dying: Beggars and Bishops in Roman Cappadocia Susan R. Holman

The Hungry Are Dying Beggars and Bishops in Roman Cappadocia

Susan R. Holman

OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

2OO1

OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS Oxford New York Athens Auckland Bangkok Bogota Buenos Aires Cape Town Chennai Dar es Salaam Delhi Florence Hong Kong Istanbul Karachi Kolkata Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Mumbai Nairobi Paris Shanghai Singapore Taipei Tokyo Toronto Warsaw and associated companies in Berlin Ibadan

Copyright © 2001 by Susan R. Holman Published by Oxford University Press, Inc., 198 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016 Oxford is a registered trademark of Oxford University Press All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of Oxford University Press. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Holman, Susan R, The hungry are dying: beggars and bishops in Roman Cappadocia / Susan R. Holman. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-19-513912-7 1. Poverty —Religious aspects —Christianity —History of doctrinesEarly church, ca. 30-600. 2. Cappadocian Fathers. 3. Poverty —Religious aspectsChristianity — Sermons — History and criticism. 4. Sermons, Greek — Turkey — Cappadocia — History and criticism. I. Title. BR195-P68 2001 261.8'325'093934 —dc21 00-058877 Cover image: Gregory of Nazianzus giving alms to the poor, from a twelfth-century Greek manuscript of his sermon, "On the love of the poor." Sinai Cod. Gr. 339, fol. 341v.By permission of Saint Catherine's Monastery, Mount Sinai.

9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper

Hunger with his grimaced face in eddies circles the unthrashed wheat. They search and never find each other, Bread and hunchbacked Hunger. So that he find it if he should enter now, We'll leave the bread until tomorrow . . . And we will watch Hunger eat To sleep with body and soul. Gabriela Mistral, "La Casa" trans. Doris Dana

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Preface

any studies on Christianity in late antiquity consider the body in the social and religious context of all sorts of renunciation: voluntary fasting, ascetic eating, religious celibacy, and rigorous monastic exercises. For many people in the ancient world, however, such choice was a luxury. The involuntary poor lived, day in and day out, with circumstances that might make a zealous monk green with envy: readymade rags, stench, starvation, fiscal penury, and unbounded physical and social suffering. Yet this population has received less attention in religious history and scholarship than those who chose their asceses, and ancient sermons about the poor have often been neglected in favor of more "theological" themes. In this study I seek to redress this imbalance by looking specifically at a collection of closely related sermons on the poor that were written by three leading fourth-century bishops in the Roman province of Cappadocia: Basil of Caesarea, his brother, Gregory of Nyssa, and their friend, Gregory of Nazianzus. In exploring their "poverty sermons," I have been particularly interested in the identity of the body as it relates to the way poverty is constructed in these texts. Who was this "body" and how was it rhetorically depicted? How did these bishops — men educated in classical paideia, who also actively promoted voluntary asceticism — use both traditional rhetoric and theology to defend this population of individuals who had no such choice or education? These sermons date to an era when certain economic and moral mandates were undergoing radical linguistic and conceptual transformation, as Christianity became the dominant social force in the Roman world. Graeco-Roman society had always included those along the lower economic fringes, but until the Christian agenda began to energetically appropriate the poor for liturgical purposes, community identities had not so emphatically regarded this state of being as a categorical concept. In these Christian texts we find this transition at work. Needy members of—and outside of—the community are here labeled and appropriated in very distinct ways for this new society and dynamic of growing religious power. The involuntary poor in these texts are constructed in language that first locates

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them in terms of negative and negating space, defined by their advancing physical deprivations: into hunger, penury, and disease. They are bodies that have been pushed by the centripetal force of victimization out to and beyond the edges of the civic sphere. The sermons attempt to change the direction of this energy, drawing the poor back into the community as community itself takes on Christian language, affirming and shaping the social and religious significance of this body by giving them communal and redemptive power, albeit ever under the bishop's authority. Basil and his friends do this in their sermons through a variety of different images that reflect their very different personalities and ways of looking at social eschatology. Yet all three use a number of common and recurrent themes that reflect their specific location and upper-class rhetorical training. These themes include the language of leitourgia (liturgy/public service), the ideals of patronage and gift exchange so essential to affirming one's training in classical paideia, and the early Christian language of incarnation, profoundly relevant to any discussion of the redemptive body. In the chapters that follow, these interwoven themes are explored as they relate to each author and to their specific texts. While the phrase "the poor" can mean many things in such a study as this (and these multiple meanings are discussed in the introduction), for the most part I have tried to limit this phrase to mean simply those these sermons identify as such. The structure of this study is inevitably shaped by its origin as a dissertation, a form perhaps most evident in the introduction, which provides a broad conceptual background to the meaning and deliberate "placing" (or contextualizing) of involuntary poverty in traditional religious scholarship. This chapter looks especially at certain nineteenth- and twentieth-century themes as they fit the poor into various ideological frames. The introduction also briefly defines the terms leitourgia, patronage, gift exchange, paideia, and the therapeutic and incarnational language of fourth-century Christianity. In chapter 1 the reader enters the ancient world. This chapter, full of stories, traces the emerging Christian use of Graeco-Roman liturgical language between the first and sixth centuries C.E. and specifically explores the theme of leitourgia as it relates to dialogue about poverty in classical Greek and Roman authors, the New Testament, evolving Christianities, several Jewish texts from the rabbinic period and later, and dominant Christian texts from late antiquity. This discussion suggests that the"poor" —as a discrete group —moved from outside the social periphery of leitourgia in the ancient world into the very center, as they became an image for the Christian liturgical ideal. In chapter 2 we arrive in fourth-century Cappadocia. This chapter is concerned with the construct of the particulate, individual body. It specifically considers the famine of the late 3605 and Basil's purported role in relief efforts and in the establishment of one of the earliest institutional responses to destitution, his ptochotropheion, or "poor-hospice." He did not act alone nor think this all up by himself, and the general image that he did perhaps points to the role of ecclesial power dynamics in his famine activities. If he rose to power as a bishop on the wings of this oft-cited social action in the famine of 368-369, how might his texts on hunger and poverty be viewed as a lens for understanding the particular context at hand, particularly his construct of the starving body? In addition, how might modern biological, social,

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and anthropological studies on starvation and famine improve our understanding of the stages in the Cappadocian crisis? To explore these questions, this chapter looks particularly at Basil's Homily 8, "In Time of Famine and Drought," a vivid sermon on starvation. Chapter 3 steps back from the individual body to look at the broader social issues into which Basil preached, here considering his sermons on fiscal penury and debt and his advocacy of material redistribution. The poor compose a fiscal body, defined by market images. As the most gifted administrator of the three men, Basil most naturally constructs the poor through a primary lens of civic liturgy, social order, economic balance, and administrative justice. This chapter focuses on his Homilies 6 and 7 and the two sermons on Psalm 14 (Psalm 15 in modern Bibles), relating them to similar texts on fiscal crisis and injustice by Gregory of Nazianzus, Gregory of Nyssa, and Ambrose of Milan. Chapter 4 considers the negative space of the homeless sick, in a careful exegesis of the constructed poor body in three sermons by the Gregories: two by Nyssen and one by Nazianzen, all traditionally titled "On the Love of the Poor." This chapter considers the friendship of the two Gregories and their influence on one another independent of Basil, and the way they image the destitute using theological and medical language of disease, healing, kinship, and incarnation. While each Gregory was certainly a theological giant in his own right, the two must be discussed together when it comes to these sermons on disease and leprosy. This chapter explores their image of the disordered body, especially as they package it in terms of theological and cosmic identity, as essential to others in the community who may — and indeed ought to — obtain redemptive healing through it. Chapter 5 concludes by suggesting that the location of this linguistic and conceptual transformation is as important as the transformation itself and inevitably shapes it. These bishops stood "between the courtyard and the altar," sometimes appearing to face one direction, out into the earthly city and sometimes the other, yet ever traversing the sacred space between them to bring together — and even to contain—city and altar in the very body of these poor. The images in Gregory of Nazianzus's In patrem tacentem (Or. 16), "On His Father's Silence," bring these themes together. It is curious, in the study of Christian theology, historically so committed to the redemption of body and community, that English-speaking religious scholars have to date so consistently failed to provide ready translations of these texts. I attempt to correct this in a very small way in the appendix, by supplying an accessible English text for three sermons where translation is long overdue: Basil's Homily 8 and Nyssen's two orations. No one is more acutely aware than I of the limitations of these renderings, and no one will be more pleased to see them superseded. One cannot study the history of poverty, hunger, and disease without standing consciously and simultaneously in several worlds, both past and present. This is not a subject that has historically inspired neat and distant objectivity, and scholarship in this area is full of lively and conflicting religious and political agendas. This locational challenge is further complicated in this case by the fact that I have, from the very beginning, found myself inevitably in conversation with two very different modern audiences as well. One is that of classical and patristic scholars, and in fact the

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study speaks primarily to this audience, as it explores the transformation of Roman and Christian culture and the place of poverty language in the development of fourth-century theology and Christianization. The other audience, at least as large and much more diverse, is made up of those who are, for many very good reasons, eager to apply these texts to a variety of modern situations, religious and secular, including relief efforts, policy development, religion and nutrition, religion and healing, and the history of public health. Such a double audience, though inevitable, given the nature of the topic, presents additional challenges. I have written chiefly to the first audience, but I deliberately include enough material directly relevant to the second to make it as useful as possible to both sets of readers. While the Cappadocian sermons may serve as models that inform modern dialogue about hunger, poverty, and human rights, certain precautions must always be kept in mind. The sermons function within a very particular historical and social context. The world of antiquity was neither the modern underdeveloped nation nor a prototype for contemporary urban poverty. These texts speak from and to a very specific politics of patronage, in which one's entitlements depended on one's associations, and developing Christianity affirmed these hierarchical structures even as it redefined them. Thus, my study seeks to contribute in some way to the broader dialogue of modern hunger, healing, and poverty relief, but its place in that dialogue is at best historical and suggestive. The sermons may in the end, like the poor themselves, be best understood by the very differentness of their perspective: the way(s) they differ from modern constructions of the problem of poverty and the way(s) the three Cappadocian bishops differ even among themselves.

Acknowledgments

t is a pleasure to express my appreciation here to those who have supported this Iacknowledged work as it has taken shape during the past decade. Many of these individuals are in notes. I first "discovered" the sermons while at Harvard Divinity School after several years as a public health nutritionist working among the urban poor; my concern for the right use of these texts and others like them is more than an academic caution. A class on the religious roots of social welfare and an enigmatic note in a nineteenth-century text led to a timely meeting with Susan Ashbrook Harvey, who subsequently served as an ideal mentor and dissertation director. She, along with Stanley Stowers of Brown's Department of Religious Studies and anthropologist Ellen Messer, then director of Brown's Alan Shawn Feinstein World Hunger Program, provided the positive intellectual space and a diversity of contexts from which to explore what sometimes seemed like wild possibilities, as well as the rigorous critique by which to make sense of them. Peter Brown read the entire manuscript most encouragingly at a key moment. It is a privilege also to thank Michael J. De Vinne, who generously allowed me to read his unpublished dissertation; Michael Foat, Brian Daley, S.J., Robert Mathiesen, and an anonymous Greek reader for their input on the sermon translations; Neil McLynn, for coffee and encouraging me to think more about Gregory and taxation; Frederick W. Norris, for his unfailing cheer and ongoing support of the whole work; the Rev. John A. T. McGuckin, for his generosity in dialogue, especially the opportunity to read his Nazianzen biography in manuscript — although I did not learn of it until this study was essentially complete, it has been a delight to find intellectual resonance along some of his trails connecting Gregory's life to his theology; and Annewies van den Hoek, who first led me — literally — to certain key library sources and introduced me to the Boston Area Patristics Group, which has served not only as a consistent forum for patristic discussion, but also as a community of friends. The material has been shaped significantly by a number of conference presentations and conversations, including the Conference on "Organised Crime in Antiquity" at the University of Wales, Lampeter; the Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Religion; the New England/Maritimes Regional Meeting of the AAR in Boston; the Fourth Annual Meeting of the International Society for the Classical Tra-

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Acknowledgments

dition at the University of Tubingen; the University of New Brunswick-Frederickton Ancient History Colloquium; and the North American Patristic Society. Portions of this material have been previously published. Several excerpts from the translations are included in Robert Atwell, Celebrating the Seasons: Daily Spiritual Readings for the Christian Year (Norwich, U.K.: Canterbury Press, 1999). Part of chapter 2 appeared in the Journal of Early Christian Studies 7 (1999), 337-63. An earlier version of chapter 3 appears as chapter 7 in Organised Crime in Antiquity, ed. Keith Hopwood (London and Swansea: Duckworth with the Classical Press of Wales, 1999), 207-28. Most of chapter 4 appeared in Harvard Theological Review 92 (1999), 283-309 (Copyright 1999 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College. Reprinted by permission). I thank the editors for their permission to reprint this material. Errors that remain are of course my own. Special thanks are due to Saint Catherine's Monastery, Mount Sinai, and Father Symeon, Grammateus and Librarian, for kind permission to print the image on the cover, of Gregory of Nazianzus giving alms to the poor, from their twelfth-century manuscript of his Peri Philoptdchias sermon. The excerpt from Gabriela Mistral's poem "La Casa," translated by Doris Dana, is from the Selected Poems of Gabriela Mistral (Baltimore: John Hopkins Press, Published for the Library of Congress, 1971), 73; published here with the permission of Joan Daves Agency on behalf of the estate of the author. On a personal note, the entire project would have been utterly impossible without those who empowered earlier beginnings. Thanks go first to my father, who has been ever supportive of my academic work and who so willingly joined the audiences in Wales and Germany. Eileen O'Connell first brought language to life; Claire Austin taught me to love the well-ordered footnote, and Bonita Rettman how to discuss literature with liberty; the Damary and Taylor-Levere families made miracles possible; and Richard Penta astonished me with the revelation that my love of scholastic learning for its own sake might be a worthy journey. The Benedictine sisters of St. Mary's Abbey in West Mailing, Kent, provided respite for re-evaluation at a critical stage early in the research; the Society of St. John the Evangelist has sustained me with its liturgies and silences, a constant reminder that not all monks dwell on power and patronage; Cynthia Read, editor at Oxford University Press, and her staff have walked me through a sea of details with unflappable grace; and the diverse parish of St. James's Episcopal Church keeps me ever mindful of community. My mother's rapid, unexpected death to cancer just as this book was going to press brought new meaning to the role of grace, courage, and dignity in the face of consuming disease. Finally, I owe much to many others I cannot name (most of them women) who have made the experience of poverty real for me. Throughout this study I have been especially haunted by the memory of a tiny, starving girl who had been placed alone on a slum wall in New Delhi. Her passive and eternal gaze met mine during a brief, private "tour" of the slum in 1988. Although I never knew her name —and was, in fact, curiously and adamantly obstructed from interacting with her —I dedicate this work to her memory, and to those who so strategically constructed her place. Cambridge, Massachusetts May 2000

S.R.H.

Contents

Abbreviations, xv Introduction: Placing the Poor, 3 1. Leitourgia and the Poor in the Early Christian World, 31 2. Hunger: Famine, Relief, and Identity in Basil's Cappadoda, 64 3. Penury and Divine Gift: The Poor as Fiscal Body, 99 4. Diseased and Holy: The Peri Philoptõochias Sermons and the Transforming Body, 135 5. Conclusion: Between Courtyard and Altar, 168 Appendix. Three Sermons, 183 A. Basil of Caesarea, "In Time of Famine and Drought," 183 B. Gregory of Nyssa, "On the Love of the Poor" 1:"On Good Works," 193 C. Gregory of Nyssa, "On the Love of the Poor" 2: "On the Saying, 'Whoever Has Done It to One of These Has Done It to Me,'" 199 Select Bibliography, 207 Index, 223

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Abbreviations

Most abbreviations of ancient sources follow either the Oxford Classical Dictionary or Lampe's Patristic Greek Lexicon. Where possible, I cite Loeb or translations from the Ante-Nicene Fathers and Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers series as the most accessible to English readers. Migne references are given for all the Cappadocian poverty sermons except Gregory of Nyssa's, for which van Heck's critical edition is widely available. See the Select Bibliography for other critical editions where Migne is not cited. i. General Abbreviations ACW ATO A/CN ANF ANRW ATR BBV

BCH BEFAR BKV CCSG CIG CIL CMG

Ancient Christian Writers (J. Quasten and J. C. Plumpe, eds. Westminster, MD, 1946 ff.) Amphilochii Iconiensis Opera (C. Datema, ed. and trans. CCSG 36. Turnhout: Brepols, 1978) American Journal of Clinical Nutrition Ante-Nicene Fathers (Alexander Roberts, ed., 1887 ff.) Aufstieg und Niedergang der romischen Welt Anglican Theological Review Jonathan Fedwick, Bibliotheca Basiliana Vniversalis: A Study of the Manuscript Traditions of the Works of Basil ofCaesarea, 4 vols., Corpus Christianorum (Turnhout: Brepols, 1993-99). Bulletin de Correspondance Hellenique Bibliotheque des Ecoles franchises d'Athenes et de Rome Bibliothek der Kirchenvdter, second series (O. Bardenhewer, T. Schermann, C. Weyman, eds. Kempten, 1911 ff.) Corpus Christianorum, Series Graeca (Turnhout: Brepols, 1977 ff.) Corpus Inscriptionum Graecorum Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum Corpus Medicorum Graecorum

xv

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Abbreviations

CFG CT CWS DAC Ep./Epp. FC GNaz GNys GCS GNO GOTS HE Horn. HSCP HTR JAAR JECS J Peds JRS JSNT JTS LCC LCL LSJ NPNF1 NPNF2 OC OCA Or. PG PL PWK REA REAug RSR RevSR SC SEG TAPA TS

Clavis Patrum Graecorum Codex Theodosius Classics of Western Spirituality (New York: Paulist Press, 1978 ff.) Dictionnaire d'Archeologie Chretienne et de Liturgie (F. Cabrol, H. Leclercq, eds, Paris 1903 ff.) Epistula(e) The Fathers of the Church (R. J, Deferrari, ed. New York: Fathers of the Church, 1947 ff.) Gregory of Nazianzus Gregory of Nyssa Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller (Leipzig, 1897 ff.) Gregorii Nysseni Opera Greek Orthodox Theological Review Historia ecclesiastica Homilia(e) Harvard Studies in Classical Philology Harvard Theological Review Journal of the American Academy of Religion Journal of Early Christian Studies Journal of Pediatrics Journal of Roman Studies Journal for the Study of the New Testament Journal of Theological Studies Library of Christian Classics (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1953 ff.) Loeb Classical Library (London, 1912 ff.) Liddell and Scott, A Greek-English Lexicon, rev. Jones Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, first series (Philip Schaff, ed., 1886-1890) Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, second series (Philip Schaff and Henry Wace, eds., 1890 ff.) Oriens Christianus Orientalia Christiana analecta Oratio }. Migne, Patrologiae Cursus, series Graeca J. Migne, Patrologiae Cursus, series Latina Pauly-Wissowa-Kroll, Real-Encyclopddie der klassischen Altertumswissenschaft (Stuttgart, 1893 ff.) Revue des Etudes Anciennes Revue des Etudes Augustiennes Recherches des Sciences Religieuses Revue des Sciences Religieuses Sources Chretiennes (Paris, 1942 ff.) Supplementum epigraphicum graecum Transactions of the American Philological Association Theological Studies

Abbreviations

TU VC ZNW ZPE ZSR

Texte und Untersuchungen ziir Geschichte der altchristlichen Literature (Berlin, 1883 ff.) Vigiliae Christianae Zeitschrift fur die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der dlteren Kirche Zeitschrift fur Papyrologie und Epigraphik Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung fur Rechtsgeschichte: Romanistische Abteilung

2. Abbreviations for the Sermons Horn. 6 Horn. 7 Horn. 8 HPs.i4a HPs.^b Or. 14 Paup. i Paup. 2

Basil, Homilia in illud: 'Destruam horrea mea (PG 31.261-78). Basil, Homilia in divites (PG 31.277- 304). Basil, Homilia dicta tempore famis et siccitatis (PG 31.303-28). Basil, Homilia in psalmum 14/153 (PG 29.251-64). Basil, Homilia in psalmum i4/i5b (PG 29.264-80). Gregory of Nazianzus, De pauperum amore (PG 35.857-909). Gregory of Nyssa, De pauperibus amandis i (PG 46.453-70) Gregory of Nyssa, De pauperibus amandis 2 (PG 46.471-90)

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THE HUNGRY ARE DYING

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Introduction Placing the Poor

You hear of The Poor, but you seldom see them. I don't mean just poor folks. I mean people whose vocation it is to be poor. Flannery O'Connor Not every poor man is righteous. Asterius of Amasea

he term poor in Christian history has carried a variety of religious meanings, and these meanings are not always necessarily associated with fiscal economics. As Flannery O'Connor's wry observation on "The Poor" suggests,1 Christianity has traditionally viewed "just poor folks" (the lower classes in general) as a separate and spiritually subordinate group distinct from those with a "vocation" to "holy poverty," although the vocation may or may not be a voluntary choice.2 Some scholars have regarded these two groups of poor as mutually exclusive. Karl Holl's 1928 thesis3 argued, for example, that poor as depicted by Jews and early (New Testament) Christians was nothing more or less than an honorific term for a holy person, entirely apart from economics.4 Dieter Georgi followed Holl on this point in his study of Paul's collection for Jerusalem. Faithful to this separation of religious and economic meaning, Georgi does not discuss economic poverty at all, noting that" 'remembering the poor' refers first of all to the eschatological title and priv-

T

1. Flannery O'Connor, The Habit of Being: Letters of Flannery O'Connor, selected and edited by Sally Fitzgerald (New York: Farrar Strauss Giroux, 1979), 487. 2. In the quote here she is speaking of a family afflicted with cancer who was enduring suffering in a manner that outsiders viewed as holy. 3. For his germinal article arguing that the "poor" in the New Testament ought to be defined religiously as "the chosen holy ones" rather than by economic criteria, see Karl Holl, "Der Kirchenbegriff des Paulus in Seinem Verhaltnis zu dem der Urgemeinde," in idem, Gesammelte Aussdtze zur Kirchengeschichte, II: Der Osten (Tubingen: J.C.B. Mohr, 1928), 44-67. 4. The thesis is refuted in two articles by Leander E. Keck, "The Poor among the Saints in the New Testament," ZNW 56 (1965), 100-29, an d "The Poor among the Saints in Jewish Christianity and Qumran," ZNW 57 (1966), 57-78. 3

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Introduction

ilege the early church in Jerusalem prided itself on and for which it was respected."5 The historical understanding of the "Ebionites" also reflects this view, defining a religious group (historical or not) by the very phrase meaning "poor."6 HolFs thesis represents an influential position in the history of the theological understanding of poor. Even when religious scholars do recognize the economic nature of poverty, they may still give primacy to the voluntary poor. Thus much Christian discourse and scholarship about religion and poverty primarily concerns the poverty that follows voluntary divestment for ideological purposes7 rather than the poor who lacked the power to choose their lot and who appealed to the monastic "poor" (and others) for assistance. The Cappadocian sermons differ here in the positive value they place on the nonmonastic poor, and in their emphasis on this economic, involuntary poverty as it profoundly relates to religious meaning. The language of early Christianity concerning poverty and the poor (however this is defined) is rooted in biblical exegesis, but its expression is inevitably influenced by cultural factors as well; for most of the texts discussed here that culture is the Graeco-Roman world of late antiquity rather than, for example, contemporary Syriac or Jewish cultural influence. Although Jews were at this time, like Christians, engaged in discourse, perhaps similarly Utopian, about poverty relief, it is unlikely that the developing rabbinic thought of late antiquity overtly influenced the Cappadocians, given much fourth-century Christian hostility to Jews and the Cappadocians' relative silence about contemporary Jewish practices. Julian praised them for the way they relieved poverty within the Jewish community,8 and Gregory of Nyssa9 and Amphilochius10 each relate that Jewish youths were among those for whom Basil provided food relief during the famine of 368-369 (although Basil himself does not mention them). Since this passive identity is the only reference to Jews in these Cappadocian texts, the role of Jewish philanthropy, discussed briefly in chapter i, is not directly pertinent to the Cappadocian sermons themselves but only to their broader world. Scholars have yet to explore in depth the specific social and historical contexts of rabbinic responses to poverty in antiquity."

5. Dieter Georgi, Remembering the Poor: The History of Paul's Collection for Jerusalem (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1992), 157. 6. From the Hebrew 'evyon. For discussion see Keck (see n. 4); see also Gildas Hamel, Poverty and Charity in Roman Palestine, First Three Centuries C.E., Near Eastern Studies 23 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), 190-91. 7. As for example Ernst Fellechner's Inaugural-Dissertation, Askese und Caritas bei den drei Kappadokiem (University of Heidelberg, 1979), which examines the communal and political implications of Cappadocian asceticism and monastic sharing of goods. 8. Julian, Ep 22; 4300. 9. GNys, In Basilium fratrem 17; for the critical edition see GNO 10.2 (1990), 124; for English translation, see Gnys, In laudem Basilii, ed. And trans. Sister James Aloysius Stein, "Encomium of Saint Gregory Bishop of Nyssa on his Brother Saint Basil," Patristic Studies 17 (1928): 38. 10. Amphilochius's encomium on Basil exists only in Syriac; see Amphilochii Iconiensis Opera, ed. and trans. Cornelius Datema, CCSG 36 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1978); for the German translation see K. V. Zettersteen, "Eine homilie des Amphilochius von Ikonium iiber Basilius von Casarea," OC 9 (1934): 67-98. n. In brief communication Professor Isaiah Gafni suggested to me that such work is in progress.

Introduction

5

In the Greek texts of the first four centuries C.E., there are two common words for the poor person, penes and ptochos. Ptochos traditionally designated the destitute beggar who is outside or at the fringes of society, the "street person," the extreme poor. Penes, on the other hand, is used to indicate the individual whose economic resources were minimal but who functioned within society, the "working poor." The penetes differ from the ptochoi in that their social ties within the community remain intact: they retain their dwellings, families, and responsibilities, including their debts.12 Penes could also be a derogatory term for anyone forced to engage in manual labor for survival. Penes was often used in Christian texts as a generic term for all "poor" and might either imply the voluntary poverty of the monastic or even —with deliberate irony— the insatiable greed of the rich, penetes because they feel lack. Gildas Hamel13 explores the linguistic ambiguity of the two terms in earlier religious texts, particularly in the way that Jewish sources were translated into Greek. The Hebrew 'any, approximating penes, represents "the poor person seen in relation to other people . . . pressed by debts and dependent for the good grace of an employer or creditor,"14 while 'evyon, approximating ptochos, represents the poor "in the most extreme of circumstances," who "needed to be helped at once if he was to survive."15 Although the parallel meanings of these Hebrew and Greek terms are fairly clear, they seem never to have been considered limiting, and early translators did not consistently follow this pattern as if it were a fixed rule. For example 'any, which occurs 80 times in the Hebrew scriptures, is translated as ptochos 38 times in the Septuagint."5 Similarly 'evyon, which occurs 61 times in the Septuagint, is translated as penes 29 times and as ptochos only 10 times; other occurrences in the Septuagint are translated using a variety of Greek terms, most commonly endees, "needy."17 Later Jewish texts leaned toward use of only the broader of the two terms. 'Any is the most common term in the Mishnah, Tosefta, and halakhik midrashim.18 The Gemaras and Palestinian Targums use both 'any and misken/miskena', with miskena' preferred in the discussions and in translations of 'any. ' Evyon occurs rarely. Hamel remarks that Syriac texts similarly use miske.no as "the all-inclusive term. It appears to represent something like the penes of Greek sources."19 Thus the distinction between ptochos and penes was hardly absolute. The terms were convenient but not necessary ways to distinguish gradients of poverty rather than two discrete classes of "poor." Some sources seem to simply favor one word over the other. For example, the "poor" in the New Testament are almost always ptochoi.

12. For a classical distinction between penes and ptochos in the ancient Greek world, see Aristophanes' Ploutos, 535-78, where Poverty (Penia), personified as a woman, defends the virtues of poverty that is called penia and distinguishes it from that poverty known as ptocheia; this is discussed further in chapter i. 13. Hamel, Poverty and Charity in Roman Palestine (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), esp. 164-77. 14. Ibid., 167. 15. Ibid. 16. Ibid., 171. 17. Ibid. 18. Ibid., 175. 19. Ibid., 176.

6

Introduction

This word occurs 24 times in the Gospels and 4 times in James; penes occurs only in 2 Cor 9:9. Yet patristic authors use both terms, retaining the classical distinctions between them. Basil show a clear preference for penes in these sermons; he uses ptochos only to make a point or to explicitly quote another source.20 To further nuance this ambiguity, ptochos might also mean one who was formerly rich, who fell into disaster, while the penes is one who maintains a stable state of social inferiority and material inadequacy. Origen and Basil both define the poor in this way. Origen remarks that "a ptochos is he who has fallen from [eKTUTtTO)] wealth, whereas a penes is he who earns his living by labor"; Basil seems to echo Origen's concept when he says, "I consider that a ptochos is he who falls from [Katep%o(J.ca] wealth into need; but a penes is he who is in need from the first and is acceptable to the Lord."21 This view is consistent with the general identification of the ptochos as one suffering acute destitution, but further distinguishes the two on moral grounds, the ptochos as the more contemptible. Gregory of Nyssa suggests the difference between the two terms in his comment that the penes who falls ill is "twice ptochos."22 As Evelyne Patlagean argues, all three Cappadocian bishops retain the classical distinction between the indigent, outcast state of the ptochos and the more economically integrated penes who is a stable member of society. While Patlagean does not specifically explore the Cappadocian poverty sermons, she sets the stage for further exploration of their relationship to what she calls "un equilibre culture! transitoire" of mid-fourth-century power dynamics and patronage.23 Basil is not alone in preferring penes; it is also the common term in texts by Julian, Libanius, and John Chrysostom. As Patlagean notes, "Christianization of the language does not alter the respective significance [of the terms.]"24 While I suggest that this may not be precisely true in the nuances of developing poverty images, the historically relative meanings of these two words themselves did not in the fourth century depend on one's religious affiliation.

Contextualizing the Contextualizers Holl, Georgi, and even Patlagean contextualize poverty in a way that is inevitably influenced by their own cultural, political, and religious context. The study of poverty relief and the social identity of the poor is, in any age, characterized by ideologies,

20. Although he does use ptochos more frequently in his letters, usually in the context of the ptochotropheion. 21. Origen, Fragmenta in Psalmos 11.6, PG 12.12018; Basil, Regulae hrevius tractatae 262, PC 3i.i26oC; both trans. Hamel, Poverty and Charity, 196. Origen does not include the comment on God's pleasure in the penes, but he does go on to cite scriptural texts about God's punishing the rich by impoverishing them. 22. GNys, Paup. i (PG 46.46oA). I follow the critical edition of Arie van Heck, Gregorii Nysseni de Pauperihus Amandis: Orationes duo (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1964) = GNO 9.1 (1967), 98. Van Heck assigned new titles to Nyssen's two sermons, calling the first oration De Beneficentia and the second In illud: Quatenus uni ex his fecistis mihi fecistis, titles more accurate in terms of content but that have not been widely used by subsequent scholars. For clarity I have retained the more traditional title. Gregory's sermons contain no chapter divisions; references here are to page numbers in Van Heck's edition. 23. Evelyne Patlagean, Pauvrete economique et pauvrete sociale a Byzance
Introduction

7

and problems and relief efforts are thus often defined according to the leading philanthropic religious or political issues of the day. For example, A. R. Hands's British narrative on charity and social aid in Greece and Rome includes a significant concern for the presence or absence of emotive pity and introduces Greek and Roman charity in the context of the English poor laws.25 Similar concerns with politics and religion informed nineteenth-century French texts as well (discussed later). These approaches may be divided into three general groups: those that emphasize evolution, those that emphasize continuity, and those whose focus is the influence of history on civic identity. Evolutionary Approach Most of the nineteenth-century French texts on poverty and charity take an evolutionary or supercessionist approach, assuming that the rise of Christian philanthropy heralded a moral improvement in social evolution. Felix Martin-Doisy of the Paris "Societe d'Economie Charitable" suggested this in the introduction to his 1851 history of charity.26 In tracing the concepts of "pity" and "mercy" as part of the development of Christian "charity," Martin-Doisy asserted that Christian charity "has enriched the human principle of ancient pity and improved and perfected the Jewish concept of mercy. In exploring eras so far before the present time, one risks finding this doctrine corrupted and changed by human contact; however, we believe that the principle of charity is divine."27 In his dissertation before the French bar in 1876, Emile Brousse summarized in evolutionary terms his theory of three leading reasons for a culture to offer public assistance: self-interest, charity, and justice: "Assistance is motivated either from a calculated precaution to protect self-interest, or from charitable interests, or from a concept of distributive justice that one may trace through the entire history of this great public service. In fact in each culture the institution takes shape according to this order of development."28 In Brousse's evolutionary ladder, Rome was at the bottom, offering relief wholly out of self-interest and fear. The Romans, he says, purchased security "by large sacrifices in which charity played no part. It was the rise of the Stoic doctrine which brought to light the brotherhood of man;.. . However this privileged concept... remained completely foreign to the masses and never translated into any organized institution of beneficence."29 Christianity, Brousse believed, led to the development of widespread acts of charity: Then one day . . . a religious doctrine appeared which undertook to relieve misery and preached the love of the poor. . . . Thus public assistance was transformed; no

25. A. R. Hands, Charity and Social Aid in Greece and Rome (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1968), esp. 11—14. 26. Felix Martin-Doisy, Histoire de la charite pendant les quatres premiers siecles de Fere chretienne (Liege: Lardinois, 1851). 27. Ibid., vi. 28. Emile Brousse, De I'assistance publique chez les Remains: droit Romain; de I'assistance publique: droit Frangais (Paris: A. Derenne, 1876), 6. 29. Emile Brousse, De I'assistance publique, j.

8

Introduction longer a tribute given out of fear, it was now the voluntary sacrifice of pity. . .. [T]he ministers of religion became, under the protection of rulers and emperors, the distributors of these inexhaustible and ever-accruing treasures.30

Yet Brousse did not consider Christianity to be the highest evolutionary form of moral goodness. A post-Revolution Egalitarian writing nearly half a century before the rise of popular Marxist theory, Brousse considered Christianity deficient because, first, it led to inevitable corruption; and second, it failed to grant real human dignity to those in need. His treatise is an appeal to his French legal compatriots to enact a state-run welfare system based on justice and the communal equality of goods. He located the roots of this justice in the Roman system of material provision of food and services to its citizens, something Christianity had influenced but not perfected. The Romans, benefiting from Stoic philosophy, established the structure; since the church had failed to administer it correctly, justice required new alternatives. Brousse's scheme assumed that liberal individualism and the nation-state were natural universals by which other cultures could be measured and which could grant the human person a dignity that religion could not. Leon Lallemand echoes many of Brousse's concerns, locating them in a broader context in the introduction to his four-volume history of charity, published between 1902 and 1912. Returning from war in 1871, he resumed his job in the administration of public assistance in Paris. There, he says, "I wanted to do a methodical study of the serious social problems with which my administrative functions confronted me, in order one day to defend with the pen the sacred cause of the poor."31 Needing a mentor, he consulted Professor Leon Gautier of L'ecole des Chartes, who told him, "We lack a history of charity; you are young; this may become the goal of your labors." It is curious that neither Lallemand nor his learned mentor seems aware of Martin-Doisy, even though both had similar backgrounds as public assistance workers with an interest in hospitals and a special concern to trace the religious and cultural roots of poverty relief. Possibly Lallemand may not be as ignorant of MartinDoisy as he suggests; Lallemand's grand published scheme traces charity from the Mosaic law to his own day but is notably thin in citing the church fathers from the first four centuries, which Martin-Doisy does in detail. For both, the evolutionary view of gradual moral superiority was ever in dialogue with the religious assumptions that were sometimes held accountable for it. Although Lallemand's work looks beyond the religious texts, he firmly locates his aim within Christian apologetics; the last line of his final volume sums up his own work as demonstrating "that which suffering humanity owes to the divine teachings of Christ."32 Continuity A number of nonconfessional twentieth-century studies sought to understand early Christian poverty relief as a new expression of a continuity, not as something distinctly separate from the cultures that informed it. While Brousse presumed that

30. Ibid. 31. Leon Lallemand, Histoire de la charite, 4 vols. (Paris: A. Picard, 1902—12), i.vii. 32. Ibid.,4.517.

Introduction

9

much, if not all of Graeco-Roman poverty-assistance was driven by fear and selfinterest, and Martin-Doisy and Lallemand defend the superiority of Christian charity, Denis van Berchem's 1939 Geneva dissertation" argued that the Roman grain dole was in fact a proof of Graeco-Roman compassion for the masses. He states explicitly that the Roman distribution of grain began as a "humanitarian inspiration," not explicitly religious in motive yet including a genuine concern for the suffering of the common people. Thus, he suggests, Christians merely appropriated a preexistent Graeco-Roman concept in a particular religious way. Christians "universalized" the civic world, he suggests; the change in this view of "city" or "nation," in terms of one's identity,34 reidentified grain distribution from a limited right of citizens to the "bread of the people." Unfortunately van Berchem's theory attributes to the Greeks and Romans a sensitivity to the plight of the poor that is missing from the ancient texts. He praises the civic liturgies without recognizing either their intrinsic religious nature or the fact that the food dole was from the outset a limited and highly charged political, rather than economic, venture (discussed further in chapter i). His discussion of ideals centers on emotive concepts that were in fact absent from much of the written testimony to Roman philosophical ideals, and although his hints about "city" and "nation" are significant, he does not adequately consider the issue of citizenship and eligibility for benefits within the Graeco-Roman city. Nonetheless, his observation that Christian poverty relief did not emerge de novo is very important. The Dutch professor Hendrik Bolkestein, contemporary with, and apparently unaware of, van Berchem, followed Brousse and others in arguing that the moral ethic of social assistance in Greece and Rome was deficient compared to other Eastern cultures of power, but he accounts for this deficiency in terms of cultural superiority rather than evolution.35 He considered Egypt the most advanced and argued that it was "Oriental" practices36 that then influenced Israel, Greece, and Rome. Bolkestein provides detailed examples of ancient "philanthropic" practices and attempts systematically to explain the absence of "pity" in Graeco-Roman sources. Like Brousse, he believed that philosophy, particularly Stoic ideals, set the stage for a moral consciousness of the poor among the Romans. The ideological limits of Bolkestein's study have been well recognized. His relevance for the present study is minimal, since he ends with the first century C.E., not considering Christianization. His study was also controversial precisely because of his own context and location. In arguing —in German in 1939 —for the moral superiority of the Persian and Egyptian social conscience as formative in Israelite reli-

33. Denis van Berchem, Les distributions de ble et d'argent a la plebe romaine sous L'empire (Geneva: Georg, 1939). 34. Ibid., 179. 35. Hendrik Bolkestein, Wohlstdtigkeit und Armenpflege im vorchristlichen altertum: Ein Betrag zum Problem "Moral und Gesellschaft" (Utrecht, 1939; reprint Groningen: Bouma's Boekhuis, 1967). 36. For which he most commonly cites Egypt but seems conceptually to also include Persia. The "Oriental" theory was outdated even in his own day. Writing thirty years before Bolkestein, Harnack remarked that the oriental philosophy of religion was "scientifically described over a century ago" and "was as indefinite as the title which was meant to comprehend it" (A. Harnack, The Expansion of Christianity in the First Three Centuries, trans. James Moffatt [New York: Arno Press, 1906], 1.30.)

io

Introduction

gious practice, he seemed to intentionally minimize the influence of Jewish ideals on Christian and Graeco-Roman society.37 Regardless of his politics, however, scholars have generally rejected his argument of "Oriental" influence on Rome. Hands argued that Bolkestein overstated his case, at best, by using later texts to prove what he posits to be early.38 Civic Identity In recent scholarship exploring the cultural contextualization of early Christian poverty language, the roles of patronage, euergetism, and the polis have become the main themes in understanding both the Graeco-Roman poor and their Christian reconstructions. This is especially evident in the work of scholars such as Alexander Fuks, Paul Veyne, Peter Garnsey, and Peter Brown. Fuks and Veyne are discussed briefly here; Garnsey and Brown will be considered in more depth later, as they relate to the Cappadocian texts. Alexander Fuks's work, contra Bolkestein's theory of Oriental superiority, explores the textual evidence of social justice in ancient Greece on its own merits,39 and David Balch has considered Fuks's studies in the context of early Christianity.40 In examining the social and economic problems of Greece between the fourth and second centuries B.C.E., Fuks did not study poverty per se but the economic turbulence and social crises within which poverty arose. Fuks's sources concern the citizens of the Greek polis, and Fuks notes that injustice was evident when members of the civic order were impoverished by losing either their land or their civic freedom due to debt, war, or both, with debt incurred as a consequence of wartime instability. Such impoverishment led to a descending spiral of political turmoil, rebellion, and injustice. Fuks explores the way ancient Greek authors addressed these problems and the solutions that contemporary philosophers proposed, which usually entailed land ownership, debt-release, social equality, and communal sharing of goods. In his extensive studies of Isocrates, Plato, situations in Athens and Sparta, and various social revolutions, Fuks clearly illustrates that the Greeks were acutely concerned about social justice. He repeatedly demonstrates that the Greeks believed that even the landless debtor who had become a slave was a victim of civic injustice in that he was deprived of rights due him as a (past and potential) Greek citizen. Regardless of praxis — and the very point of these works was that praxis fell short and needed to be corrected — Fuks's examples illustrate the ancient Greeks' genuine concern for correcting the injustice of poverty. Fuks's studies are limited to Greece, and to Greek authors prior to Roman domination of Greek culture. He does not ex-

37. This controversy is noted by his colleague H. Wagenvoort, who refutes it in his preface to the 1967 reprint. 38. Hands, Charity and Social Aid, 84-85. 39. Alexander Fuks, Social Conflict in Ancient Greece (Leiden: Brill, 1984). 40. David L. Balch, "Rich and Poor, Proud and Humble in Luke-Acts," in The Social World of the First Christians: Essays in Honor of Wayne A. Meeks, ed. Michael White and O. Larry Yarbrough (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1995), 214-33.

Introduction

11

plore the question of whether this Greek concern for civic justice had any influence on later Roman views of economic destitution. A. R. Hands and Paul Veyne have specifically addressed later Graeco-Roman texts that discuss poverty and assistance. Hands documents texts and inscriptions that evidence Graeco-Roman beneficence, specifically the provision of concrete goods and services to the community, including the poor within that community. Hands suggests that philanthropic was the term most closely linked to the emotive concept of "charity" and argues that social patronage "tended to suggest the relationship between social inferior and social superior."41 He argues that pity was an emotion of empathy reserved for one's peers, or for the rich who fell into difficult economic straits; in contrast, "there was no altar or sanctuary to which the poor and weak could flee [as in Egypt] to draw attention to their permanent condition of life"42 Hands's concern to explain the absence of "pity" language in his texts reduces the meaning of Graeco-Roman philanthropy to little more than emotive language: "something like a feeling of human decency."43 His focus on pathos as a motivation for assistance detracts from the vital civic and religious imagery he cites, which simply does not concern itself with a discourse of emotion. Paul Veyne, in contrast, entirely rejects this modern language of decency and charity in his interpretation of ancient Greek civic ideals about beneficence. Veyne argues that euergetism functioned within this economy for three purposes: to display wealth, to express respect for the dead, and to exercise political responsibilities.44 The euergetes was "a 'big man' who would speak of'my people' rather than us: the mass of the citizens are his family and he loves them no less than he controls them."45 Veyne's study focuses on the function of the gift rather than the construct of the recipient, but his examples support the general view that benefactions were intended for those within the community.46 Veyne's study is vital for its emphasis on this particular Graeco-Roman consciousness as an awareness of patronage rather than poverty. It is precisely to this context, of patronage and the gift economy, discussed later, that the Cappadocian sermons refer. These studies suggest that both the identification and understanding of ancient views on poverty and its relief depends largely on vocabulary and categorization. In other words, social assistance to the poor for the sake of justice did indeed exist as a cultural concept in the Greek, Hellenistic, and Roman worlds, although worthy recipients were perceived primarily in terms of civic identity rather than fiscal limitations. Consequently relief need not be expressed as "charity" but rather in terms of maintaining civic order and the worthy members of its community, however community was defined.

41. Hands, Charity and Social Aid, 86. 42. Ibid., 80. 43. Ibid., 86. 44. Paul Veyne, Bread and Circuses: Historical Sociology and Political Pluralism, trans. Brian Pearce (London: Penguin Press, 1990), 116. 45. Ibid., 110. 46. J.H.M. Strubbe has argued this as well from inscriptions of the imperial period; for an English summary of his Dutch study, see SEG 44.i73zqater (1994).

12

Introduction

New Testament scholarship in this field has generally followed the same ideological trends as these other studies, focusing at different times on evolution, on continuity, or on civic identity. Most of these studies, however, focus especially on the rich, the benefactors, and on prescriptions for material divestment, rather than on the identity of the poor as they relate to this divestment. In the many — and indeed very fine — studies such as those by L. William Countryman,47 Roman Garrison,48 Martin Hengel,49 Luke Johnson,50 Carolyn Osiek,51 and Bruce Winter,52 the poor are referents, not subjects, a reflection of the one-sidedness of the ancient texts themselves. Cyprian's treatise De opere et eleemosynis,^ for example, says virtually nothing about the poor, attending instead to the issue of wealth and its redemptive transfer by the rich for the sake of their own souls. Basil's Homilia in divites (Horn. 7), "Against the Rich," also reflects this exclusive emphasis without much mention of a poor person anywhere in the text.54 While understood as studies related to poverty, most of these are in fact studies about wealth. Such an approach has an immensely important place in any attempt to understand the dynamics of patronage and benefaction in early Christianity. In this context, however, the poor themselves remain virtually invisible.

The Cappadocians in Context Studies on the Poverty Sermons Studies that include references to the Cappadocian poverty sermons have historically tended to perpetuate this primary emphasis on divestment prescriptions for the rich. However, Basil's Homilia in illud: Destruam horrea mea (Horn. 6), Homilia dicta tempore famis et siccitatis (Horn. 8), Homilia in Psalmum 14 (HPs 14), Gregory of Nyssa's two sermons De pauperibus amandis (Paup. i and 2), and Gregory of Nazianzus's De pauperum amore or Peri philoptochias (Or. 14) all actively construct a social body of the destitute poor with a careful attention that goes beyond the material experience of the bodies of the rich. These texts thus deserve exploration.

47. L. William Countryman, The Rich Christian in the Church of the Early Empire: Contradictions and Accommodations (New York: Mellen Press, 1980). 48. Roman Garrison, Redemptive Almsgiving in the Early Church, Journal for the Study of the New Testament suppl. ser. 77 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993). 49. Martin Hengel, Property and Riches in the Early Church: Aspects of a Social History of Early Christianity, trans. John Bowden (London: S.C.M. Press, 1974). 50. Luke Johnson, Sharing Possessions: Mandate and Symbol of Faith (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1981). 51. Carolyn Osiek, Rich and Poor in the "Shepherd of Hernias": An Exegetical-Social Investigation (Washington, D. C.: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1983). 52. Bruce W. Winter, Seek the Welfare of the City: Christians as Benefactors and Citizens (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994). 53. For English translation see Roy J. Deferrari, trans, and ed., "Works and Almsgiving" in idem, Saint Cyprian: Treatises, FC 36 (New York: Fathers of the Church, 1958), 225-53. 54. Thus it is not included in the appendix here.

Introduction

13

Basil's Quod deus non est auctor malorum (Horn. 9) was probably preached during the famine, but it is not discussed here because it says little about the poor. Until recently these sermons have rarely been examined as a group or in much depth.55 Rather, they have been treated in a sometimes piecemeal fashion, as subsets or examples in larger topical studies, particularly studies on wealth or social ethics in the early church.56 For example, in 1941 Stanislaus Giet examined Basil's policies concerning marriage, church, and state, arguing that Basil's social policies followed from his view of human dignity and the interdependence of rich and poor.57 He held that Basil preached equality of relationships, that is, that all people are equally God's servants: all have inalienable worth: "Man is made to live in society, but society is made for man, because man and society are at the service of a God who created such harmony. Masters and servants, each retaining intact the sovereignty of their individual freedom, are companions in a slavery which ought to encompass mutual respect if they want to attain heavenly royalty."58 However, Giet discusses Basil's charity activities and texts in only the last six pages of his study, and does not discuss Basil's sermons on the poor in any detail. He does not explore the implications of the power dynamics involved in social policy, does not consider the theology of poverty-relief,'9 and does not consider the relationship of Basil with the Gregories. Instead, he argues that Basil's "grande originalite" was his integration of many disparate services (hunger relief, medical care, housing for the stranger and traveler) into one institution. While Giet's work is very important as far as it goes, it does not go very far with these particular texts.

55. For an excellent overview of the Cappadocian poverty sermons that appeared after this study was complete, see Brian E. Daley, S.J., "1998 NAPS Presidential Address: Building a New City: The Cappadocian Fathers and the Rhetoric of Philanthropy," /ECS 7 (1999), 431-61. Another recent overview is that of Mary Sheather, "Pronouncements of the Cappadocians on Issues of Poverty and Wealth," in Prayer and Spirituality in the Early Church, ed. Pauline Allen, Raymond Canning, and Lawrence Cross with B. Janelle Craiger (Everton Park, Queensland Australia: Centre for Early Christian Studies, 1998), 375-92. 56. Key studies include Jean Bernardi, La predication des peres cappadociens: Le predicateur et son auditoire, Publications de la Faculte des lettres et sciences humaines de 1'Universite de Montpellier 30 (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1968); Bernard Coulie, Les richesses dans I'oeuvre de Saint Cregoire de Nazianze: Etude litteraire et historique, Publications de 1'Institut Orientaliste de Louvain 32 (Louvain: Catholic University of Louvain, 1985); Michael J. DeVinne, "The Advocacy of Empty Bellies: Episcopal Representations of the Poor in the Late Empire" (Ph.D. diss., Stanford University, 1995); Ernst L. Fellechner, Askese und Caritas bei den drei Kappadokiem; Benoit Gain, L'Eglise de Cappadoce au \V° siecle d'apres la correspondence de Basile de Cesaree, OCA 225 (Rome: Pontificium Instihitum Orientale, 1985); Stanislas Giet, Les idees et /'action sociales de Saint Basile (Paris: Librairie Lecoffre, 1941); Judith Herrin, "Ideals of Charity, Realities of Welfare: The Philanthropic Activities of the Byzantine Church," in Church and People in Byzantium, ed. Rosemary Morris (Birmingham: Centre for Byzantine, Ottoman and Modern Greek Studies, 1990), 151-64; Julio de Santa Ana, Good News to the Poor: The Challenge of the Poor in the History of the Church (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis, 1979), 65-80; Ramon Teja, Organizacion economica y social de Capadocia en el siglo IV, segun los padres capadocios, Acta Sahnanticensia: Filosofia y letras (Salamanca: University of Salamanca, 1974), and Donald F Winslow, "Gregory of Nazianzus and Love for the Poor," ATR 47(1965): 348-59. 57. Giet, Les idees, 21—41. 58. Ibid., 41. 59. Like many modern religious authors, he seems to hold it as a universally recognized religious good that needs no explanation.

14

Introduction

Eberhard Bruck's study of church legislation regarding the "portion for the poor"60 takes them farther. Like Giet, Bruck was concerned with ideas and social action. His study is largely an excursus on the "Seelteil," the so-called "soul-portion," as this concept evolved in church legislation. The discussion about the soul-portion concerns the precise quantitative definition of redemptive alms: how much to give to the poor in order to benefit one's own soul. Bruck argues that this very specific teaching originated in these particular Cappadocian texts. He argues this chiefly from Basil's injunction, [861; TI Kod ifj V|/t>xfi],61 "give also something to the soul" (Horn. 8.8), and Gregory of Nazianzus's parallel advice, [S6<; |iepi8a KCU TTJ xj/uxfi],62 "give also a portion to the soul" (Or. 14.22). Bruck argues that Basil was the first to preach this concept, followed by the Gregories (with varying measures of faithfulness to Basil's intent) and that it was then carried forward through the preaching of John Chrysostom.63 Bruck perceives Armenteil (the portion for the poor) as a separate concept from the Seelteil, unified within the same action. He deliberately maintains this separation, but his study considers only the Seelteil; thus his focus is on the soul of the donor rather than on the recipient. Bruck's study is of particular interest, however, because he examines and identifies particular aspects of Graeco-Roman influence on donative practices and argues that three social factors contributed to the Cappadocian advice to give a portion for the sake of one's soul. The first, he suggests, referred to Hellenistic death rituals, including grave rituals such as commemorative feasts and grain/money donations in the name of the deceased. Bruck argued that the Greeks had a preexisting belief that donations benefit the soul of the deceased in the hereafter.64 The second contributing factor, he suggests, was Hellenistic ethical philosophy concerned with social justice, particularly the influence of Plato and Aristotle on Cappadocian thought. Third, Bruck argues that the Cappadocian advice emerged from a pastoral desire to grant some merciful "concession" to those unwilling to follow the injunction of Matthew 19:16-22 to "be perfect" by selling "everything you have and givfing] it to the poor." By defining a "soul portion," Bruck argued, the Cappadocians made salvation possible for the rich who did not wish total divestment of their goods.

60. Eberhard Bruck, Kirchenvdter und soziales Erbrecht. Wanderungen religioser Ideen durch die Rechte der ostlichen und westlichen Welt (Heidelberg: Springer, 1956), 1-75. Many of his thoughts on this were included in his earlier article, "Kirchenvater und Seelteil," Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung filr Rechtsgeschichte: Romanistische Abteilung 72 (1955): 191-210. 61. PG 31.3250. 62. PG 35.8856. 63. Bruck, Kirchenvdter und soziales Erbrecht, 2. 64. The assumption that Greek views on the soul influenced Graeco-Roman funerary ritual assumes a positive relationship between ancient philosophy and ancient ritual, which did not necessarily exist in any static form. Recent scholars have considered funerary ritual to be more concerned with social order and purity than with particular views of the soul. See, e.g., Robert Parker, Miasma: Pollution and Purification in Early Greek Religions (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1983), 32-73. For a general discussion of the ritual role of the sacrificial feast, including the funerary feast, see, e.g., Marcel Detienne and JeanPierre Vernant, The Cuisine of Sacrifice among the Greeks (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989). In examining the clear link between euergetism and funerary ritual, Paul Veyne argues that "pagan foundations owed little to the metaphysical aspects of death" (Veyne, Bread and Circuses, 117).

Introduction

15

As provocative as Bruck's study is, he overstates his thesis by seeking in the Cappadocians a prescription for hard and fast percentages that simply is not there, and he assumes a theoretical unity among the sermons in terms of these fixed numerical concepts. As a result, his approach often distorts and overtly misreads the texts on this detail. 65 Further, in arguing for Basil's priority in establishing the Seelteil, Bruck does not adequately explore the history of this association between alms and spiritual benefits, found for example in Ben Sira,66 and Tobii67 and clearly described in early Christian treatises such as Clement of Alexandria's Quis dives salvetur and Cyprian's De opere et eleemosynis6S even as Bruck is clearly aware of these sources. Finally, his study is limited by his assumption of that traditional tendency, in studies of Basil and the two Gregories, to view Cappadocian thought as a trinity of three persons in one mind: Basil's. This view suggests, as J. H. Srawley expressed it, that the three men "approached the [theological] controversies of the time . . . with similar aims, and sought to deal with them on similar lines. Basil was the pioneer, and the two Gregories built upon the foundation which he had laid."69 In exploring their texts on poverty relief and the identity of the poor, I find this assumption problematic; there is frank diversity in the texts themselves, and the tensions between the different approaches of these three writers are evident. Certainly their "aims" and "lines" were similar, but scholarship since Bruck and Srawley suggests that in fact each of the three was a pioneer in his own distinctive manner. Nonetheless, Bruck's study is a brave early venture into the search for the Graeco-Roman cultural influences on these sermons. He shows clearly that the Cap-

65. In arguing that the texts themselves prescribe a precise mathematically derived portion, Bruck fails to account for the diversity that he himself illustrates. For example, Basil in one place advises giving roo percent of one's food to a beggar at the door, even if a loaf is all you have (Horn. 8.6). Later, however, he suggests that 50 percent would also be acceptable, arguable from his injunction, "Recognize that you have two daughters, present prosperity and life in heaven. If you do not wish to give all to the greater of the two, at least equally divide between the unbridled and the moderate child" (Horn. 8.8); all translations from this homily are mine. Basil does not reconcile these two apparent discrepancies; he only makes it clear that in general more is better. The Nazianzen text Bruck cites similarly does not intend a fixed figure in its context. The recommendation of a portion is one phrase in a long series of repeated contrasts that conclude with the exhortation, "[G]ive even all to [God]" (GNaz, Or. 14.22). Finally, Bruck argues that Nyssen is legislating either one-third or one-fifth as the correct Seelteil, when in fact Nyssen says only that one who does not give even a third or a fifth is a brutal tyrant. Nyssen's comment may constitute frank pastoral advice, but to interpret it as precise ecclesiastical legislation seems a curious misreading. Certainly one might develop legislation on the basis of these comments but this is not Bruck's thesis; he argues that a legislative meaning is intrinsic to the texts themselves, and that both Nazianzen's and Nyssen's prescriptions about alms follow Basil's thought exactly. 66. Ben Sira 3:30; 4:1-10; 5:8; 7:32; 12:2-7; 'V122! 29:u-i367. Tobit 1:3; 1:16—17; 4:7~n; 4:16; 12:8-9. 68. Cyprian, for example, wrote, "Divide your returns with your God; share your gains with Christ; make Christ a partner in your earthly possessions, that He also may make you co-heir of His heavenly kingdom" De opere et eleemosynis 13, trans. Deferrari, Saint Cyprian: Treatises, 239. If one adheres to Bruck's method of exegesis, Cyprian's mere mention of the word divide argues for a given legislative portion that again does not accurately represent his advice in context. This treatise is in places very similar to the Cappadocians', especially in its exposition of Matthew 25:311! 69. GNys, Oratio catechetica, crit. ed. J. H. Srawley, The Catechetical Oration of St. Gregory of Nyssa (London: SPCK, 1917), 8.

16

Introduction

padocian texts did advise their audience to "downsize" private ownership without significantly threatening the status quo. Bruck suggests, but does not develop the idea, that the Cappadocian views on poverty relief actively reworked "kinship" concepts. It is impossible to examine kinship concepts, however, without understanding the textual construct of the kin in question, the poor themselves, which Bruck, like earlier scholars in poverty studies, simply does not do. While Bruck's study was driven by theological concerns, the large majority of studies since the early 19605 have explored the Cappadocian texts in terms of social and economic history. Ramon Teja responds to A.H.M. Jones's decision to exclude homiletic texts from his evidence of economics in the ancient world. Jones thought, "[A]fter reading a fair sample, . . . that most consisted of exegesis of the scriptures or of vague and generalized moralisation."70 In response, Teja argues that the Cappadocian texts provide in fact a wealth of such data. He consequently draws from these texts to produce a compendium of references to agricultural practices, fiscal policies, class differences, industry, illness, and ecclesiastical responses to economic injustices.71 As a function of his approach, Teja's study treats the Cappadocian references to social problems as if they are straightforward narratives, like Giet, "looking through" the sermons for evidence of action, rather than placing the action of the text within the action of its rhetorical delivery and liturgical context. Nonetheless, Teja's study illustrates the range of social details that preoccupied the late antique Christian moralists and functioned as references for them. Ernst Fellechner similarly uses the Cappadocian poverty sermons to explore social history, but more clearly in their religious and philosophic contexts. Unlike Bruck, Fellechner recognizes that the sermons represent the differing viewpoints of three individuals, each with a particular approach to asceticism and religious charity.72 Fellechner argues that Basil's praxis of charitable deeds ("Liebestatigkeit") is radical and Utopian,73 that Nazianzen's approach is strongly christological,74 and that Gregory of Nyssa explores the same actions from an eschatological perspective.75 Fellechner then briefly considers the relationship between the biblical and philosophical bases for asceticism and charity according to each of the three authors. However, Fellechner's work focuses entirely on voluntary poverty, defining charity from the perspective of the donor. He does not explore liturgical issues or the construct of the involuntary poor who function as alms recipients. Thus, although distinctions between the three bishops are directly pertinent to this study, in general the bulk of Fellechner's work, which is on monastic charity, is peripheral to it.

70. A.H.M. Jones, The Later Roman Empire (284- 602), A Social, Economic and Administrative Survey (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1964), vii, cited in Teja, Orgmizacion Economica y social, 207. 71. See esp. Teja, Organization economica y social, 208 on the political— rather than religious — role of the provincial division that controversially limited Basil's episcopal power. For Raymond Van Dam's more substantial exploration of the role of politics on religious authority for the Cappadocians, see his "Emperor, Bishops and Friends in Late Antique Cappadocia," JTS 37 (1986): 53-76. 72. Fellechner, Askese und Caritas, 40-58. 73. Ibid., 50-53. 74. Ibid., 54-56. 75. Ibid., 56-58.

Introduction

17

Evelyne Patlagean76 examines the Cappadocian examples much more critically and incorporates them into that social space balancing pagan and Christian thought, an atmosphere swallowed up like a disappearing ozone layer with the rise of Theodosius's laws against paganism in the 3805. The Cappadocian sermons constitute a very small piece of her much broader vision, but her argument that they base a new charitable relationship on preexisting concepts is very important for this book. That which preexists is the eminent citizen's obligation to contribute to the well-being of the city. That which is new is the rise of a new type of donor: the donor who has been an eminent citizen but who now renounces the traditional identities of citizenship — marriage, family, property— to choose poverty, celibacy, and ascetic generosity. While this is an "economically asocial" choice,77 it represents the Christian development of the concept of "citizen." Patlagean's work is thus vital for its discussion of the Cappadocian adoption of Graeco-Roman civic power for purposes of spiritual patronage. Timothy Miller briefly explores Basil's social action in the context of the historical development of the Byzantine hospital.78 His detailed discussion of terms for Byzantine philanthropic organizations is helpful in defining the poor: those in need of public assistance, including foreigners, travelers, the sick, the aged, the orphan, the infant.79 Miller's study, however, like Fellechner's, focuses on monastic roles in the institutionalization of medical care. He does not discuss the poverty sermons per se, their implications for society, or the way the sermons construct the poor. Philip Rousseau's excellent monograph on Basil takes Basil's sermons yet a step farther but is concerned with a very different question, Why did Basil become a bishop? Rousseau examines the complex ecclesiastical dynamics of power during the years in which these texts were delivered, but his focus necessarily brackets the poverty sermons, and he does not think very highly of them, arguing that Basil was not out to subvert the social order but rather to control it, and to this end, he suggests, Homily 6 is a "precisely articulated piece of social propaganda."80 Rousseau finds Homilies 8 and 9 "weak and abstract," 9 being "the worst.. . . One was likely to have come away from such a discourse with little more than the feeling that God had chosen to make one the victim of misfortune."81 Unlike Bruck, who identified Homily 8 as the irrevocable foundation on which centuries of subsequent poverty legislation were built, Rousseau complains that Basil here "offered little practical advice . . . content to set his sights on spiritual matters, even in times of physical suffering."82 Bruck finds Basil's spirituality legislative while Rousseau considers it irrelevant to his power dynamics. While Peter Brown's work has not explored the Cappadocian poverty sermons in any detail, Brown has done more than any other scholar in the last two decades to define the social framework in which late antique bishops practiced poverty relief. His

76. Patlagean. Pauvrete economique et pauvrete socials, 28. 77. Ibid., 126. 78. Timothy S. Miller, The Birth of the Hospital in the Byzantine Empire (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1985). 79. Ibid., 23-29. 80. Philip Rousseau, Basil ofCaesarea (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 138. 81. Ibid., 137. 82. Ibid., 138.

18

Introduction

broad explorations of power dynamics in the early church open the way for individual studies to research on a much smaller scale the ways emerging Christian theology itself was both shaped by, and in turn shaped, the social expression of specific issues. Brown suggests that, at least by the fourth century, the behavior of Christian bishops toward the poor reflected a solid integration of both the Christian interpretation of Jewish and Christian scriptures on the poor and the Roman model of patronage. As bishops increasingly represented social as well as religious power, they became "patrons" of the poor, following the model of the Graeco-Roman patron, yet applying it to a previously excluded group, social outcasts. Brown's work is an important touchstone for exploring these dynamics in the Cappadocian sermons. In a chapter on "Poverty and Power" in his study of power and persuasion in late antiquity, Brown points out how these bishops functioned instrumentally in maintaining social order by this role as patron of the poor: their patronage worked to contain social unrest by exercising power over a social fringe group. By giving the indigent poor a valid place in the "Christian household" (the church), Christian bishops used the substance of the existing model but reinterpreted it. Brown examines this change and its implications for power and religious patronage: Nowhere was the Christian representation of the church's novel role in society more aggressively maintained than in the claim of Christian bishops to act as "lovers of the poor." . . . In fourth century conditions "love of the poor" took on a new resonance. It was an activity that came to affect the city as a whole. . . . In the name of a religion that claimed to challenge the values of the elite, upper class Christians gained control of the lower classes of the city.. . ,83 Brown notes, as Hands and Veyne did before him, that prior to Christian influence, members of a household merited aid only by nature of their ties to membership in the city or state; one's needy economic state did not in itself constitute a moral or social right to receive aid. The masses, those without honor or citizenship, depended on their relationship to the "patrons" of the city. The "notable was only obliged to his fellow citizens";84 he had no intrinsic obligation to the homeless person, those who were thus unable to contribute to civic order. The very poor of the city were probably "held above the survival line by a network of institutions that still called them 'citizens' and not 'the poor.' "85 Family and civic patronage thus ruled all structural order and were inseparable from religious duties. The emperor was the ultimate patron.86 As Christian discussion of philanthropy changed the focus of "good deeds" from the city to the bodies of the poor, it redefined the criteria for receiving welfare. Physical need now mattered for its own sake and not solely in terms of civic order. Noncitizens might now be eligible for receiving philanthropy.

83. Peter Brown, Power and Persuasion in Late Antiquity: Toward a Christian Empire. The Curti Lectures 1988 (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1992), 77-78. 84. Brown, Power and Persuasion, 84. 85. Ibid., 93. 86. Richard Gordon develops this in his essay "The Veil of Power: Emperors, Sacrificers and Benefactors," in Pagan Priests: Religion and Power in the Ancient World, ed. Mary Beard and John North (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1990), 199-255.

Introduction

19

Although Brown allusively suggests that this paradigm shift occurred by conceptual redefinition of traditional concepts, particularly "family," "household," "city," and "citizenship," he has not concentrated largely on exploring how theological language was used to effect this shift of the interdependent social network. This is what I aim to do here. Michael De Vinne's hitherto unpublished dissertation has built on Brown's work but particularly develops Foucault's theory of the gaze and Elaine Scarry's work on the body in pain. De Vinne explores the ways in which "Christian bishops and priests from the late fourth and early fifth century shaped their discourse about the homeless poor,"87 with special attention to the power and effect of the episcopal gaze: what it looks at and what it sees. De Vinne explores the role of vision and "(re)presentation" to create a vivid linguistic sighting of early episcopal imagery. Drawing from John Chrysostom, the Cappadocians, Ambrose, and Augustine, De Vinne illustrates the ways in which these bishops deliberately spectacularized the poor, using terms from the theater and gladiatorial combat in order to render them visible: "The opened body confers a solid, insistent, undeniable reality —but only if opened eyes, surmounting their instinctual repugnance, unflinchingly engage it."88 By depicting the poor in terms of theater and gladiatorial display, De Vinne argues, the bishops heroized them, inviting the (nonpoor) audience to participate in their struggle by giving assistance and by voluntarily emulating their poverty. The bishops deliberately used the ear to direct the eye, removing the poor from their liminal social space in the boundaries of the community and subjecting them to the active penetration of the gaze. De Vinne uses Elaine Scarry's treatment of the wounded body of God to further explore the ways in which the bishops identified the poor with the body of God, thus rematerializing Christ's fissured and ruptured body: "As the glory of righteousness shines through the fissures in Job's body, so the glory of the divine incarnation shines through the fissures in the bodies of the homeless.. . . The holey bodies of the homeless accommodatingly offer a site for the reincarnation of the holy body of Jesus because that body is already pre-eminently ruptured."89 De Vinne substantiates this pierced and penetrated identification with Christ using Chrysostom's imagery in Homilia 20.3 in Epistulam 2 ad Corinthios,90 where Chrysostom depicts the poor as both divine and a divinely constituted altar. Through this image, De Vinne argues, the poor "demand succour. They demand patronage," as they are thus "established as Christ-substantiating spectacle by clerical rhetoric."91 Although his argument on patronage draws explicitly from Peter Brown, De Vinne explores the relationship between "redemptive almsgiving" and civic identity in a way that is strikingly original. Augustine, Chrysostom, and others depicted the poor as "porters," those who (ought to be) kept busy carrying the wealth of the

87. 88. 89. 90. gr.

De Vinne, The Advocacy of Empty Bellies, iv. Ibid., 29. Ibid., 83. For further discussion of this imagery, see chapter i. De Vinne, The Advocacy of Empty Bellies, 83.

2O

Introduction

rich from earth to heaven in order that the rich might enter heaven. Thus "employed," the destitute become valued members of society. This work "accords them a role in the life of the community."92 Their "preternatural transportation" further "creates clients both where the better-off now live and where they hope eventually to dwell."93 De Vinne suggests, further, that the poor become more than community members: he argues that they become patrons in their own right, that the account of the last judgment in Matthew 25 suggests a complete turning of the tables. In heaven the poor become "legal patron-advocates or prosecutors at the last judgment" as "terrestrial clients emerge transformed into celestial patrons."94 As the bishops gain power on earth through their rigorous appropriation of power over eleemosynary practices, De Vinne argues, the poor (who support these generous rich by loyal dependence on their alms alone) are promised heavenly power to become patrons over those they serve in this world. De Vinne's interpretation of this dynamic is a stimulating and welcome addition to the scholarship of poverty sermons in late antiquity. Although I share De Vinne's fascination with literary and visual images, and power dynamics, there are significant differences between his work and mine. De Vinne is concerned with the social power of the bishops' gaze; I am concerned with the incarnate body gazed upon and its entry into Christian constructs of civic and religious leitourgia. De Vinne asks, in essence, "What function do the poor play in episcopal rhetoric?" while I ask a related but more fundamental question: "Who are these poor, in this particular episcopal rhetoric? What makes it possible for the voluntary poor — the ascetic monk and bishop — to exclude themselves from this externalized group of 'other' poor?" The answer, I believe, is not only in the issues of power that both Brown and De Vinne explore but also in a variety of liturgical constructs. While De Vinne assumes (functionally at least) a unified view of alms within the Christianized patronage system, particularly among the Cappadocians, Chrysostom, and the West in the late fourth and early fifth centuries, I am interested in the diversity in these views among the Cappadocians. The Cappadocians' influence on Chrysostom warrants further study,95 but the Cappadocians themselves construct the poor with many different nuances. Just as there is no single monolithic "Judaism" or one universally agreed form of "Christianity," there is no completely unified treat-

92. Ibid., 99. 93. Ibid., 99-100. 94. Ibid., 113. 95. For a traditional study of Chrysostom's views on almsgiving, see Otto Plassman, Das Almosen bei Johannes Chrysostom Inaugural Dissertation, (Rhenish Friedrich Wilhelms-University, 1960). The influential role of the relationship both Basil and Chrysostom had with Meletius of Antioch remains to be explored. Theodoret (HE 3.10) refers to Meletius's "inn" (Kcrraywyri) in Antioch where the bishop welcomed at least one political refugee during one of the brief periods when he was not himself in exile. A katagoge might also suggest a monastery "guesthouse" (as it does in Historia monochorum in Aegypto 19.2). Basil uses the noun in Ep. 5.2, in his analogy of life as a journey where all eagerly anticipate reaching the katagoge. Meletius consecrated both Basil and Chrysostom, one in 370 to the bishop's seat in Caesarea (Socr. HE 4.26), the other as deacon of Antioch in 381 (Palladius, Dial. 5), and Basil's letters to Meletius address him warmly (see esp. Ep. 57; for Basil's other correspondence with Meletius, all dated between 371 and 375, see Epp. 68, 89,120,129, 216).

Introduction

21

ment of poverty and alms in late antiquity; there are only long strands, a heritage of themes that are woven into the package in different ways by different authors, as well as a diversity within experiences of involuntary poverty.96 Themes for this Study: Leitourgia, Paideia, Theology In this study I seek to contextualize the sermons in terms of their image of the poor as it fits within a network of overlapping layers of thought in fourth-century GraecoRoman culture, and within these layers three concepts in particular. One is leitourgia and the "gift economy"; the second is paideia and its role in power dynamics; and the third is the ongoing dialogue regarding a theology of incarnation, particularly as that dialogue uses language of philosophic and medical therapeutics. These three bishops' place at the center of much fourth-century debate over incarnational language lends particular interest to this aspect of their sermons on poverty. What follows is a summary of these three. Chapter i explores leitourgia in more depth, and chapters 2 through 5 focus on the sermons themselves and consider all three themes as they are interwoven into an image of the poor body. Leitourgia and the Gift Economy Leitourgia, often translated "liturgies," consisted in the ancient world of any "public service performed by private citizens at their own expense."97 Thus we have the modern phrase for a religious liturgy, a "worship service." In the Graeco-Roman world these liturgies were public, fiscal obligations of members of the leading class to their fellow citizens and their fulfillment could be onerous. Skilled orators were sometimes rewarded for their rhetoric by being exempted,98 though it was more common to use rhetoric precisely to gain support and attention for one's leitourgia.99 In classical Athens the ordinary leitourgia, or liturgies, were the gymnasiarchia (funding education and physical training), choregia (paying for the choruses that performed at public festivals) and hestiasis (funding public feasts).100 All leitourgia included sacrifice; thus the essential association of the word with religious ritual practices. Such liturgies did not include any formal concept of "service" to the poor and needy as such until the rise of Christianization, when Christian leaders began to use political power to apply their traditional scriptural understanding of the poor, as a social group deserving special attention, to the economics of Graeco-Roman "gift

96. Even the debtors, who "voluntarily" signed themselves into debt, did not choose this option in order to deliberately experience a worse form of poverty but rather an illusion of wealth. See chapter 3 for further discussion of debtors.

97. LSJ. 98. See the examples of Caracalla refusing such a privilege to Philiscus the Thessalian while granting it to Philostratus of Lemnos in Philostratus, Vit. Soph. 30. 622-23. 99. This is discussed further in the following chapters. Kennedy calls attention to this use of rhetoric particularly in the orations of Dio Chrysostom: (Kennedy, A New History of Classical Rhetoric [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994!, 235). roo. Noted in Liddell and Scott's Intermediate Greek- English Lexicon but not in the (unabridged) ninth edition.

22

Introduction

economy." This gift economy, epitomized by the fluid obligations and power dynamics of the patronage systems, will be discussed further. The power dynamics of class patronage were further grounded in paideia, or education in rhetoric and comportment. A leader's moral standing in society was judged on the basis of his class, his education, and his consequent ability to verbally express himself with eloquence within a given rhetorical structure. Words in this culture were spoken —even when they were (also) written down. Rhetoric reflecting this paideia was thus a fundamental expression, a truly bodily proof, of one's moral and religious integrity. References to Jesus as logos have special meaning in a class culture in which verbal expression is granted such value. For Christians trained in classical paideia, power was exercised through the rhetorical style of this verbal output, which we can examine particularly in their letters and sermons. In this context, as the reference to logos suggests, the theology of the incarnation takes on a particular meaning. As the Christian rhetor expresses moral excellence by his physical style in oral declamation, so he also points his audience to Christ, the Word become flesh. This association receives particular emphasis in much of Gregory of Nazianzus's work. Yet here, where we are concerned with another group of flesh — the poor and destitute who had no rhetorical voice of their own — the incarnation of the Word takes on meaning by the rhetor's (that is, the bishop's) verbal identification of these poor with the body of Christ. As the Cappadocians use traditional New Testament images to identify the poor with Christ, the body of the poor — in its most literal, mutable sense — gains social meaning. The rhetorical expression of this body gains a language and a voice of its own as it is viewed as the body of the Logos. The theology of incarnation takes on meaning relative to the culture in which it is defined, and this culture profoundly influences the way the theology is understood. Leitourgia in the ancient world functioned within what historians and anthropologists have called a "gift economy." Paul Veyne's study on euergetism in Greek and Roman society explores at length the gift dynamics of patronage, where exchange implies reciprocal obligations at a complex level far beyond the basic economic value of the exchange. In this context, [t]he gift could serve to establish social relations, in which generosity on the part of the leaders established bonds of obedience for the followers, and in which honour was due to the donor on the basis of his generosity.. . . The gift could therefore function as the basis for social and political organization, in creating and expressing relationships of power. . . . The value of the gift was determined by its symbolic significance, not in relation to any recognition of its actual worth. . . . Just as there might be an obligation to give, there could also be an obligation to receive: a gift could not be refused, whatever the consequences.101

This exchange dynamic had profound implications for the societies in which it operated as a political tool. The fundamental study of gift exchange, which has influenced Veyne and others,

101. Oswin Murray, introduction to Veyne, Bread and Circuses, xv-xvi. xv-xvi.

Introduction

23

is anthropologist Marcel Mauss's 1925 study, Essai sur le Don.m In this classic essay, Mauss examined the practice and meanings imbued in gift exchange across a range of cultures, beginning from his study on exchange as it functioned within the Melanesian circle of South Pacific islands. He (briefly) identifies similar dynamics in ancient Rome, India, China, and early medieval Germany. These cultures, he found, used gift exchange as a social contract of mutual and competitive obligations. While the details and degree of meaning varied in each setting, Mauss argued that in these examples gift exchange operated as part of the economic system yet with a much greater complexity of significance, going beyond the economic "rules" of these cultures. Gifts, in Mauss's theory, were understood to have the power of a living thing: the power to heal, to comfort, and to effect curses on those who used them improperly or did not continue the exchange: "Souls are mingled with things; things with souls. . . . Among persons and things so intermingled, each emerges from their own sphere and mixes together. This is precisely what contract and exchange are."103 Mauss argued that gift exchanges effect fictive kinship between donor and recipient; recipient is obligated to act in turn as donor, either to the original donor or to a third party. Gift exchange may in some cultures require what in Polynesia is called "potlatch": a conspicuous consumption, a competetive wastage of one's wealth. Putting on feasts and even incurring debt to show the neighbors one's wealth and generosity, Mauss argued, becomes a way the society invests its goods in its own social survival. Goods are spent on supporting social dynamics rather than hoarded by individuals. Mauss regarded the gift exchange system as an ideal economic model that might correct many social ills. Although Mauss's discussion of things as living entities seems more appropriate for an animistic culture than for the ancient Romans,101 his theory is directly relevant to Graeco-Roman patronage. Patronage functioned, after all, as part of an economic system that depended heavily on specifically signified exchanges and the intentional creation of social debt, mutual obligations between exchanging parties. The power of patronage-obligated leitourgia lay in the meaning of the exchange more than it did in the substance of that which took shape: baths, libraries, political positions, feasts, and so on. The power lay in the social effect these exchanges had on those who took part in their benefits. Further, the nuances of obligations related to class both in Mauss's modern examples and in the ancient world. Certain exchanges were expected between members of the same social level and certain exchanges were expected (or not expected) between members of one class and those of another. Certain exchanges, such as feasts and religious events, might be sponsored by one class but permit the participation of a larger segment of society. To use a gift wrongly, or to refuse it, was in Mauss's observation a serious and even potentially fatal social

102. Marcel Mauss, The Gift, trans. W. D. Hall (New York: Norton, 1990). 103. Ibid., 20. 104. Mauss was not without his critics. Marshall Sahlins discusses these in his chapter "The Spirit of the Gift" in Stone Age Economics (Chicago: Aldine-Atherton, 1972). Sahlins notes that Levi-Strauss called Mauss's mystical interpretation of the spirit of the gift a situation in which "the ethnologist allows himself to be mystified by the native." Others suggested his intellectual refinements were "not a native rationalization [but] a kind of French one" (Stone Age Economics, 154—55).

24

Introduction

gaffe. In the same way, misappropriation of patronage opportunities, such as refusing to attend a feast or sponsor a competition, might also insult the entire group and risk divine punishment. These dynamics, which functioned at a basic, understood level within Graeco-Roman society, profoundly influenced Christian appropriation of patronage for poverty relief. As the poor become an essential part of the gift exchange and even bear part of the identity of gift itself, they are impelled to participate just as the "rich" are impelled to practice leitourgia toward the poor or else risk divine punishment. Mauss recognized the significance of gift exchange theory for religious patronage. Alms to the poor might placate the dead in many cultures: "Nemesis avenges the poor and the gods for the superabundance of happiness and wealth of certain people who should rid themselves of it. This is the ancient morality of the gift, which has become a principal of justice."105 Thus, Mauss's theory bears direct relevance to alms, tithes, and the concept of personal redemption through charity.106 Gift exchanges in the present life are seen to maintain social equilibrium and protect against evil. In societies that believed in life after death, or in the power of the dead to influence the living, gift exchange was one way to invest in one's personal concept of the promised land or the next life. Mauss cites here the Brahmin view that alms in this life "automatically engenders] for the giver the same thing as itself: it is not lost, it reproduces itself; in the next life, one finds the same thing, only it has increased."107 Although the understanding of "next life" might differ, this view is identical to that of the Christian texts that preach redemptive almsgiving: alms not only save the self, but they convert one's goods into immortal forms one can reclaim in heaven. This is also true of food: "Not to share it with others is to 'kill its essence,' it is to destroy it both for oneself and for others."108 Those who fail to reciprocate lose honor and lose face and are regarded as debtors: "[T]he punishment for failure to reciprocate is slavery for debt."109 Thus one ideally participates in society precisely by sharing these signified objects in a recognized pattern of mutual and endless giving and receiving. Gift exchange may operate with a variety of economic implications, but always bearing a complex range of meanings that extend beyond simple economics in societies as far-ranging as ancient Rome and the modern West.110 Of note, the actual term leitourgia is rare in the Cappadocian sermons, although there is no question that the relationship between civic and religious obligations is —supremely —what they are all about. Leitourgia does not occur at all in Basil's homilies 6, 7, or 8, nor does it occur in Gregory of Nazianzus's Oration 14. It

105. Mauss, The Gift, 17. 106. For a study on Mauss's theory as it relates to the biblical tithe, see Menahem Herman, Tithe as Gift: The Institution in the Pentateuch and in Light of Mauss's Prestation Theory, A Distinguished Dissertation (San Francisco: Mellen Research University Press, 1991). 107. Mauss, The Gift, 56. 108. Ibid., 57. 109. Ibid., 42. no. For studies on gift exchange and the dynamics of consumption in the modern world see, for example, David Cheal, The Gift Economy (London: Routledge, 1988) and Mary Douglas and Baron Isherwood, The World of Goods: Toward an Anthropology of Consumption (London: Routledge, 1996).

Introduction

25

occurs twice in Basil's Homily on Ps. i4b. The first reference concerns the "irremediable servitude" of the slave and debtor (HPs i4b.21H). The second (HPs i4b.4112) is a similarly derogatory reference to those preoccupied with serving their wives' demands for banquets, and the like. Leitourgia also occurs once in Gregory of Nyssa's first oration on the love of the poor, where it refers to Moses in the Tent offering the Israelite's donations to God.113 These three occurrences illustrate the broad range of meanings inherent in the term. Despite this limited use of the term itself, the concept of liturgical identity is essential in understanding the Cappadocian construct of involuntary poverty and the means by which the poor enter the Christian text of late antiquity. First, the poor begin from a position outside the society of the immediate civic or liturgical (church) audience; they are acknowledged only as they appeal to it or compete with it for resources. Second, by the permissive action of the liturgist, in this case civic patrons or Christian bishops, the poor enter the leitourgia. Third, the poor then proceed to become a liturgical image, which most often embodies language and ideals about justice, deity, and cosmos. These three progressive positions are seen not only in the Cappadocian sermons but also in other texts from the same period. This will be explored further in chapter i. Throughout this study I use the English word liturgy when the context points toward the modern associations of leitourgia with religious ritual. The Greek term leitourgia will be used in discussing actions that focus on civic or communal identity, the sense in which the word is often translated "public service." This distinction is artificial if it is taken too far: the ancient world did not perceive any boundary between politics and religion. Yet I hope that, by using the two forms to emphasize related aspects of the same concept, I may more effectively illustrate the dynamic by which the poor become a liturgical image in Christian theology precisely by their religious and social or civic significance in public works. Paideia and Power Paideia, that education of late antiquity which formed boys into responsible civic leaders, rhetors, and advocates, was a training toward social power. Paideia was most fully manifest in a man's deportment and in his rhetorical skills.114 This formation trained the body in public deportment, but particularly to one end: effectively persuasive speech. As Maud Gleason has brilliantly demonstrated in her comparative study of Polemo and the eunuch Favorinus, the power of the spoken word depended upon the perception of its embodied presentation. Speech might be legal, political, educational, or religious in content, but it always gained power over

in. PG 29.2690. 112. PG 29.2760. 113. PG 46.460. 114. Key studies on power and paideia in late antiquity include Peter Brown, Power and Persuasion; Maud W. Gleason, Making Men: Sophists and Self-Presentation in Ancient Rome (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995); Werner Jaeger, Early Christian and Greek Paideia (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press (Belknap), 1961); George A. Kennedy, A New History of Classical Rhetoric, and his Greek Rhetoric under Christian Emperors (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983), and Richard Lim, Public Disputation, Power and Social Order in Late Antiquity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995).

26

Introduction

particular circumstances by means of rhetorical persuasion. Paideia might be the means to power, but it usually functioned as an educational seal for a class power that one already possessed by virtue of family or social connections. The man (and the speaker was almost always a man) of humble birth who happened to successfully train himself to a rhetorical brilliance was often criticized as an upstart and pretender. As practiced by Christian orators, "right speech" might also be assessed by criteria based in content as well as class: a Christian orator manifested socially acceptable paideia particularly when his oratory expressed "right teaching." Those labeled "heretics" were often scorned in a manner that implied a class bias to this "orthodoxy." Gregory of Nyssa, for example, criticizes the Arian Eunomius's teacher Aetius in this way: Aetius began to teach his "monstrous doctrines," Gregory says, "as a trick to gain his livelihood, having escaped from serfdom in the vineyard to which he belonged."115 Eunomius, too, fell short of the respectable gentleman of paideia in that his own father was "one of those farmers always bent over the plough. . . . [I]n the winter he used to carve out neatly the letters of the alphabet for boys to form syllables with, winning his bread with the money those sold for."116 Gregory here attempts to dismiss their rhetorical skills by accusing them of base economic motives rooted in low-class origins. This standard polemic against the "heretic" demonstrates how dependent Christian rhetoric had become on Greek culture: paideia was not simply appropriated for Christian use; Christian paideia and self-expression became ruled by Greek ideals of society and self-presentation. While the ascetic movement adopted a rhetoric of anti-paideia which played down the value of classical learning in Christian spirituality, even this posture may have been a spiritual relocation paradoxically expressed through using the very skills being (purportedly) rejected.117 The Cappadocians did not reject paideia in their formation of a structured Christian spirituality and monastic ideals. Julian's proscription against teachers, rescinded only at his death in 363, led to a widespread Christian reaction, a move to reclaim power over classical Greek philosophy and education. These three Cappadocians were right in the middle of this counterreaction, an active intellectual appropriation of social norms put to Christian ends which had been in progress for many decades but took on new energy after Julian's repressions. This move required Christian leaders, educators as well as orators, to demonstrate their absolute command of classical literature if only as "Egyptian booty," treasured spoils that proved one's victory over the opposition. Basil and Nazianzen, brilliantly gifted in administration and rhetoric, respectively, saw no conflict between Christianity and paideia. In this their views differ from elements of the Egyptian monastic tradition. Paideia, with its emphasis on deportment, verbal skills, rhetorical formula, and extensive fa-

115. GNys, Eun. 1.6, trans. Moore, NPNF2 5.39. 116. Ibid., NPNF2 5.40. 117. The theory that ascetic "anti-paideia" was at times an artificial posturing has been explored especially in the example of St. Antony. See, e.g., David Brakke, Athanasius and the Politics of Asceticism (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995), 253-65; Michael O'Laughlin, "Closing the Gap between Antony and Evagrius," Colloquium Origenianum Septimum, Marburg, August 1997; and Samuel Rubenson, The Letters of St. Antony: Monasticism and the Making of a Saint, Studies in Antiquity and Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995).

Introduction

27

miliarity with classical literature, was critical in shaping these bishops' administrative and theological expression and their power. All three were from respectable and wealthy families. Their ability to use their paidea in their administration and preaching further enabled them to interact freely with government officials, philosophical teachers such as Libanius, and imperial ambassadors. At home in rural "backwoods" Cappadocia, their paideia qualified them as local leaders whether they sought leadership or not. Cappadocia was a region characterized by widespread illiteracy. Here the verbal power of the rained, gifted rhetor would have been especially effective. Disputes over land would require orators. Families who wished to see their sons in government positions needed teachers of rhetoric. Churches required preachers. These roles demanded a man trained in paideia, ideal models of right deportment and declamation. A Theology of Incarnation Into these first two frames of reference — the gift economy of patronage and paideia/power dynamics — theology is a third key theme that must be interwoven with these two in order to best understand the poverty sermons. Basil and the two Gregories did much to shape the emerging fourth-century theological concern with the Christian doctrine of incarnation in their work to define the doctrines of the Trinity and the divinity of the Holy Spirit. As Christian paideia appropriated theological images, the implications for discourse about the body were profound, particularly the body of the poor who are now often overtly identified with Christ. Two aspects of this are particularly pertinent to the sermons: first, the way in which concepts of deportment and speech common to paideia are used in theology, and second, the language of therapeutics. The ancient Christian bishop was acutely aware of the power of the spoken word, to an extent that perhaps cannot be easily appreciated by Western, twenty-first century culture, where literacy is assumed and where we are barraged on all sides by written communication. For Basil and his contemporaries, the word, even written, represented first of all sound. That which was written was read aloud. Word was action, action deeply dependent on body functions. Breathing, singing, physical exercises, precise posture and motion, all identified the human word as an intangible power that issued forth from the created body. Into this perception of word, the theological understanding of logos and incarnation would have a very particular importance and meaning. Just as these bishops believed that God sent forth God's active Logos into a divinely created body, in Christ, an embodied divine/human person by which power was effected for the salvation of all creation, so also the Christian rhetor might easily understand "orthodox" embodied speech as holy behavior, an identification with the divine nature, a participation in the logos of salvation. Just as right deportment depended on verbal expression as it functioned by a deliberate and conscious use of the physical body, so also those trained in this form of self-expression might seek to explain the divine incarnation with a comparable concern for detail about function and physiology. I suggest that this association between classical rhetorical style and incarnation theology profoundly influences the development of Christian doctrine as it is found in these three men's sermons on the poor. This concern for the physiological details of the incarnation is of particular interest to Gre-

28

Introduction

gory of Nyssa, but it is present in the poverty sermons of all three men. The bodies of the poor in these texts must thus be viewed as they were interpreted in light of very specific theological perceptions: of the incarnation, of the meaning of food in religious practice, of the moral value of the created world, and of the body itself. This theme will be explored further in the following chapters as it relates to these sermons. I leave to others, or to other studies, the detailed exploration of this, as it applies more broadly in antiquity. Therapeutic language, both theoretically philosophical and explicitly medical, also runs as a constant subtext within the theology and body language of these sermons. Therapeutic language is a commonplace in early Christian references to the healing of the soul and Christ as physician, and it is also a fundamental theme in Greek philosophy.118 The Cappadocian use of therapeutic language reworks this broad cultural metaphor in a new way, toward the "right" theological ordering of the macrocosms of community and cosmos. In classical therapeutic language, the body and passions are ordered for the purpose of attaining harmony within the soul. The body is important for classical philosophic discussions of therapeutics only as it orders the environment in which the soul may best attain both spiritual detachment from the heavy particles of earthly existence and a clearer reflection of the primordial image. This was not a denial of particulate matter, but a purification toward ever finer material particles which characterized those beings who belonged to the higher spheres. Nor was this just an academic theory. Medical practice incorporated much of the same emphasis on harmony and purification quite literally in its corporal therapeutics, treating sick patients with purgings, bleedings, diet, and exercise regimens aimed at restoring humoral equilibrium. The Cappadocian emphasis on body therapeutics often seems to exceed the classical image. Basil and the Gregories describe the incarnate body in great physiologic detail, reflecting the different Christian understanding of how body related to the divine creator. For example, in discussing the fear of leprosy, both Gregories explore their cultural medical beliefs about contagion and healing but affirm that the sick body may represent a spiritual harmony available to the well only by direct physical contact. Gregory of Nyssa is particularly explicit about body parts and functions in both his treatise on the creation of man119 and his Oratio catechetica magna120 and these descriptions contain extensive discussions on the potential of even disharmonious flesh to participate in divinity. Basil describes end-stage starvation in his famine sermon in language of graphic physiology with little reference to the soul except that of those who observe or ignore these starving bodies. While the overall theme in each author's concern with the body is indeed to point toward a restoration and healing of the whole person through good works toward these bodies, the authors' dom-

118. See esp. Martha C. Nussbaum, The Therapy of Desire; Theory and Practice in Hellenistic Ethics (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994). 119. GNys, Horn, opif., PC 44:125-256, trans. H. A. Wilson, NPNF 2 5.387-427. 120. GNys, Or. catech., crit. eel. J. H. Srawley, The Catechetical Oration of St. Gregory of Nyssa (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1903), trans. J. H. Srawley, The Catechetical Oration of St. Gregory of Nyssa (London: SPCK, 1917).

Introduction

29

inant use of medical imagery points the audience beyond the traditional therapeutic emphasis on curing the passions by self-control, toward viewing the physical body as a worthy subject in itself. This use of therapeutic language does not contradict the classical tradition but uses it to a new end. The Christian use of therapeutics, hardly new by the fourth century, operates in these particular texts to engage the poor in communal and cosmic healing, something outside the classical use of this image. In using this medical model, the Cappadocians presume the same fundamental moral element basic to the philosophical language. Both they and their classical predecessors argued that healing was effected by moral choices over body and soul. The different Christian value for the body itself nuances the weight they put on body therapeutics. As the poor enter into the community body, they become a new part of not only theological but also therapeutic language. Finally, though the poor are identified with Christ, one may ask of these fourthcentury texts: which Christ? Arian? Nicene? Does it matter? In his Arian doctrine Eunomius, the primary theological opponent of all three Cappadocians, rejected the complete divine assumption of human flesh and regarded Christ as subordinate to the Father precisely because of Christ's participation in mutability. In response the Cappadocians emphasize both the "eternalness" of Christ's begotten state and the morally neutral nature of human flesh itself, which relates not only to incarnation theology but also to anthropology, that is, the Cappadocian view of the human person. While they never explicitly state that the body is "good," each bishop nonetheless affirms its place within the divinely created order of things, and its use for those mortal beings created in God's "image." While the Cappadocian-Eunomian dialogue, with its focus on the theological problems of Christ's participation in birth and death rather than humans' participation in social poverty and illness, is not a major theme of this study and is not mentioned in the sermons on poverty, it raises suggestive questions that will be explored briefly in chapter 4 in the discussion of healing and mutability in the leper's body. It is significant at the outset, however, to recall that medicine and theology were intertwined even in the very origins of this "Anomoean" controversy concerning body and divinity. In his rise to rhetorical power, Aetius trained himself as a physician and practiced medicine among the lower classes until he moved on to theological rhetoric, in which role he influenced the farmer's son, Eunomius. 121 The Cappadocians, too, reveal a significant familiarity with medical practices, apart from their treatises against Eunomius. Amphilochius suggests that Basil learned medicine, among other disciplines, during his travels in the East after leaving Athens,122 and John McGuckin suggests Gregory of Nazianzus took a few medical classes with his brother, Caesareus, during their time together as students in Alexandria.123 When Caesareus died as a court physician in Constantinople, Gregory inherited his estate (with all its

121. GNys, Eun. 1.6. 122. Zettersteen, "Eine homilie," 67—98. 123. John A. T. McGuckin, St. Gregory of Nazianzus (Crestwood, N.Y.: St. Vladimir's Seminary Press, forthcoming.

jo Introduction fiscal problems) and probably his books as well; Jose Janini Cuesta has suggested that both Gregory of Nazianzus and Gregory of Nyssa had access to this medical library after Caesareus's death,124 and it may have included texts such as the medical compendium by his and Julian's contemporary Oribasius. The Gregories' particular attention to medical detail will be explored further in chapter 4. Thus medical and therapeutic language in the Cappadocian sermons on poverty may suggest both a cultural familiarity with medical images as well as their concern with the theological value of the body itself. But first let us trace the development of these religious and cultural images, particularly the role of leitourgia in the development of early Christian views on the poor.

124. Jose Janini Cuesta, La Antropologia y la medicina pastoral de San Gregorio de Nisa (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Cientificas, 1946), 31.

1

Leitourgia and the Poor in the Early Christian World For it is disgraceful that, when no Jew ever has to beg and the impious Galileans support not only their own [poor] but ours as well, all men see that our people lack aid from us. ... Julian to Arsacius, high priest of Galatia That which the Hellenes call philanthropy puts us to shame! Basil, Homily 8.8

ne morning in the sixth century, in a cave near the Jordan River, as Sisinius the monk was singing the liturgical office for "the third hour," a Saracen Christian woman entered his cave, took off her clothes, and lay down on the floor. John Moschos, who tells the story, says that Sisinius, "not distracted," went on singing. When his worship was complete he said to the woman, "Don't you know that those who play the harlot go to [perdition]?" She acknowledged that she knew this. He asked, "Then why do you prostitute yourself?" She answered, OTI reevvw, "because I am hungry." This Greek phrase is the text's only direct quote of the woman's side of the conversation. Sisinius —who "had abandoned his own bishopric for the sake of God" 1 —responded directly. Instructing her to stop her prostitution and come instead each day to his cave, he said, "I began giving her some of the food that God provided for me to eat, until I left those parts."2 The story of Sisinius and the impoverished, hungry woman illustrates the central dynamic with which this chapter is concerned: the relationship of the poor in the ancient world to the leitourgia of religious and civic practice. While a special re-

O

1. John Moschos, Pratum Spirituale 93 (PG 87.2952), ed. and trans. John Wortley, John Moschos, The Spiritual Meadow (Pratum Spirituale), Cistercian Studies Series 139 (Kalamazoo, Mich.: Cistercian Press, 1992), 75. 2. Prat. Spir. 136 (PG 87.3000), trans. Wortley, 111-12. The phrase "until I left those parts" is ambiguous, since it is possible he did not leave this cave until his death. The woman visits him in his "cave near the holy Jordan" (Prat. Spir. 136), and Moschos's story about Sisinius's death (Prat. Spir. 93) describes his solitary life with a disciple "near the village called Bethabara, about 6 miles away from the holy Jordan."

31

32

The Hungry Are Dying

lationship took shape in the fourth century C.E. between those who practiced leitourgia and the poor around them3 — in this case both those who chose religious poverty and those who did not — certain social dynamics between social liturgies and the needy may be identified much earlier.

Leitourgia and Graeco-Roman Euergetism Leitourgia and the (Absent) Poor Peter Brown, Paul Veyne, and others have illustrated how food doles, communal religious feasts, public works, or subsidized public entertainment prior to the Christianization of Graeco-Roman culture did not function out of any concern to alleviate poverty per se. The leitourgia of the gymnasiarch funded the education of those boys eligible for such training, either by their noble birth or their ability to finance the public obligations that would be expected of them as trained ephebes.4 Those whose leitourgia funded performances and feasts had similar stated aims: to assert social power and do one's honorable duty. The donor fulfilled civic obligations while the recipients, by participating, were implicitly expected to show their gratitude by granting the benefactor praise, honor, and loyalty. Social inequality was not only understood, but essential for the system to work. Aristotle operates on this premise in his distinction between leitourgia and friendship, when he says that friendship expects an equal exchange of goods or value between the parties. If the recipients could not give as much as they received, then the act was a leitourgia, a "public service."5 In Latin the various acts of euergetism involved in a leitourgia were called beneficences. Much of the ancient world lived "hand-to-mouth," often quite literally. Economics in the ancient world operated within a "gift economy" in which reciprocal obligations maintained social stability between friends as well as between benefactor and recipient. Patronage provided both a social and economic buffer, linking intangible networks of interactive debts in a world that had no monetary "federal reserve" as such. The patron by his leitourgia funded projects —baths, gymnasia, theaters, monuments, fountains, feasts, and so on — which provided tangible securities and rewards. By this process the funding of public events was effectually an investment in the human body, as that body was trained, entertained, and fed within the larger context of benefits to the entire community. Thus, while poverty was certainly a reality in the ancient world, the poor did not comprise a discrete social or political category, and poverty was not a criteria for assistance. Those at the receiving end of social benefits were eligible solely by nature of their membership in the community, either because they were citizens of the city

3. For a parallel account of a holy man defying monastic appearances to feed a starving prostitute, see the account of Symeon the holy fool in Evagrius Scholasticus's Historia ecclesiastica, 4.34; for discussion see Derek Krueger, Symeon the Holy Fool: Leontius' 'Life' and the Late Antique City (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996), 33. 4. See Hands, Charities and Social Aid in Greece and Rome (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1968), 118—19 an d 199-201 (inscriptions 054-057). 5. Arist., Nichomachian Ethics 10.31 = 1163329.

Leitourgia and the Poor in the Early Christian World

53

or because of some socially recognized dependence (as kin, clients, or friends) to a particular patron. For example, the Egyptian, Petosiris, is clearly appealing to such a person when, in the third century B.C.E., he scribbles on a piece of papyrus: " . . . Also I have nothing to wear and we are living in the open. Will you kindly then order them to give me 4 drachmai, that I may buy at least an old cloak. . . ?"6 Petosiris's request is not directly for alms, but he asks the recipient to exercise some recognized power to pull strings for him. True, he happens to be homeless and ragged but, more importantly, he has a social identity that allows him to appeal as a friend to someone with influence. The language of many inscriptions emphasizes the communal rather than individual nature of Greek leitourgia and its relationship to piety. An inscription from Pegae around 60 B.C.E. praises the patron who "gave a dinner to all the citizens and residents [paroikoi] and to the Romans residing with us and to the slaves of all these and their sons and the slaves' children. In order then that others also may emulate such deeds for the advantage of the city . . . the people of Pegae [honor] Soteles.. . for his goodwill and reverent spirit towards the gods. . . ."7 This emphasis on both religious piety and generosity to the population as a group is seen as well in another inscription from the first century C.E., praising the benefactor Euphrosynus and his wife Epigone. This couple "rebuilt the temples which had been in utter ruins and they added dining rooms. . . and provided the [religious] societies with treasuries, extending their piety not only to the gods but to the places themselves . . . [and Epigone further provided] all men alike with a festive banquet."8 Euergeteis were also praised when they provided food free or at subsidized prices during times of shortage. An inscription from Camerinum (central Italy) in the late second century C.K. remembers that "this man's father often met the burden of the corn supply when corn was dear and frequently he gave a feast."9 These food gifts were usually consumed at the site of the feast, but there might sometimes be provisions for carryout meals, or "doggie bags." An inscription from Stratonicea (Asia Minor) from the late first or early second century C.E. praises a short-term voluntary priest and priestess for "opening the sacred refectory of the god to every class and age and to the out-of-town visitors with the most ready goodwill and lavish generosity; [they] entertained also the body of elders in the city with food to be carried away."10 These inscriptions suggest that in the Greek and Roman model the needs of the individual were addressed most often under the general umbrella of communal provisions for the entire community. Basil praises precisely this Greek philanthropy in his famine sermon when he refers specifically to the feasts cooked at one hearth for the entire Greek demos (Horn. 8.8). Although the early inscriptions

6. P. Mich. inv. 3098 (C. C. Edgar, ed., PMich I [1931], go), trans, the University of Michigan Papyrus Collection APIS (Advanced Papyrological Information System), www.hti.nmich.edu/bin/apis-idx. 7. IG 8.190 (/OAI1907, r/ff.; Laum, No. 22) cited in Hands, Charities and Social Aid, 181 (Dio); my emphasis. 8. IG 5.2.168 (BCH 20.126, Laum, No. 5); cited in Hands, Charities and Social Aid, 183 (013). 9. H. Dessau, ed., Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae (1892-1916), 6640; cited in Hands, Charities and Social Aid, 187(026). 10. BCH 1891.184^, No. 29; cf. BCH 1927. jyff.; cited in Hands, Charity and Social Aid, 190 (033).

34 The Hungry Are Dying

do not exclude the possibility of individual assistance on the basis of individual need, they do not mention it. While poverty as such certainly existed among those who witnessed these feasts, the "poor" themselves — as a discrete social group — are encompassed under the umbrella of other social categories or else excluded from the feasts because they fit no acceptable category. Graeco-Roman Perceptions of the Poor Although "the poor" in the ancient Greek and Roman texts does not carry the modern sense of a categorical noun often implying a subject with moral rights to aid or pity, it is used in the ancient world as a descriptive noun in many texts, denoting some group with certain identifiable characteristics. The following passing remarks reveal a variety of views. The comic playwrights sometimes mentioned beggars, although usually as a joke or satire. Aristophanes supplies a particularly lively description of the very poor in his Ploutos. Here Chremylos, a seeker of wealth, is waylaid by Penia, poverty personified as a woman, who argues her positive attributes. Chremylos angrily attacks her praise of poverty with a long harangue worth quoting in full for what it reveals about one ancient Greek perception of the destitute. Chremylos says, Why, what good could you provide except a crowd of blisters on coming from the bath, of starveling urchins, and old crones? The number of lice and mosquitoes and fleas I don't even mention to you, it is so multitudinous, and they buzz around the head and worry one, raising one up from his bed and telling him, "You will starve, but get up!" And, in addition to these things you give him rags to wear for a cloak; and instead of a couch, a rush mattress alive with bugs —a thing that awakens the sleeper. And you give him a rotten mat to keep instead of a carpet; and instead of a pillow, a stone of goodly size for the head; and to feed not on loaves but on mallowshoots, and instead of a barley-cake dry radish-tops; and instead of a bench, the head of a broken jar; and instead of a kneading-trough the side of a cask, and even that cask-side broken. Now tell me, do I show you to be the cause of many blessings to all men?11

Penia responds to Chremylos by objecting that what he describes is not penia but ptocheia, "beggary," to which Chremylos replies, "Penia, Ptocheia, what's the difference?"12 The Greeks clearly perceived the poor in terms of an undesirable way of life. The description (nearly half of it preoccupied with bugs) is successfully comic only if it touches a chord with the audience. Aristophanes' Ploutos refers to the destitute in two other intriguing but brief references to the religious role of the Greek leitourgia. One is the monthly Hekate deipnon, a banquet delivered on the thirtieth of each month to the crossroad shrines of Hecate. Chremylos argues that poverty is hardly noble since the poor are temple

n. Ar., Plutus 535-47, trans. M. T. Quinn, The Plutus of Aristophanes (London: George Bell, 1901), 19. 12. Ibid., 549; lit., "Well, anyway, we call them sisters, ptocheia and penia."

Leitourgia and the Poor in the Early Christian World

35

thieves, regularly robbing the goddess of her offering by snatching it as soon as it reaches the shrine.13 The other feast is that of Theseus; the slave Cario speaks to the chorus (representing "aged men") as to those who at the "feast of Theseus" have often "sopped up much soup with very little bread."14 Here again the context mocks the social practice: Cario's reference implies that this beggar's meal15 was regarded as insufficient by those who participated; his audience might expect better times now that wealth is blind no longer. There is no further reference to this meal in the play, but these two passing comments suggest that the destitute in ancient Greece were able to benefit from religious festivals, either by "theft" or by explicit opportunities for the needy to obtain free food in a religious context. Citizens — and comic playwrights — might consider the beggar a dishonorable sponger, but even this image implies that beggars were tolerated at the fringe of community life, including religious feasts. Most discussion of poverty in the ancient world is less entertaining than Aristophanes. Plautus, for example, may be either ironic or caustic when he implies that pity might be a valid reason to let a beggar starve: "He does the beggar a bad service who gives him meat and drink, for what he gives is lost, and the lives of the poor are merely prolonged to their own misery."16 The moralists and philosophers usually referred to the poor (if they referred to them at all) in terms of their "moral worthiness" (or lack thereof). Plato, for example, argued that alms ought only to go to beggars whose lives were worthy: "It is not the starving as such or the similarly afflicted who deserve sympathy, but the man who, in spite of his moderation or some other virtue or progress toward it, nevertheless experiences some misfortune."17 This implies that individual private charity was considered acceptable and also presumes a prior acquaintance with the man who begs, in order to determine whether he is — or has been —virtuous enough to help. Aristotle, too, argues for giving only to those who are worthy,18 but emphasizes that the most excellent and "honorable" expenditures are "expenses for the gods — dedications, temples, sacrifices and so on for everything divine — and expenses that provoke a good competition for honor, to the benefit of the community, as for example if some city thinks a splendid chorus or warship or a feast for the city must be provided."19 When reproached for giving to a "bad" man, Aristotle replied, "It is the man I pitied [fiXe-noa], not his character [Tp07io<;]."20 Aristotle's comment evidences the common classical and early Hellenistic view that one only gave to beggars out of regard for the particular individual — and that this took

13. Ibid., 594-97. 14. Ibid., 627—28. 15. "In token of the unity [Theseus] introduced into the Athenian commonwealth, the poorer classes were entertained at a meal, apparently not of very sumptuous character, provided at the public cost. . . workhouse meals, as we may almost deem them." B. B. Rogers, Aristophanes, LCL (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1924), 3.422, note a. 16. Plautus, Trinummus 339, trans. Hands, Charity and Social Aid, 65. 17. PL, Leg. 11.936.90, trans. Trevor J. Saunders, Plato: The Laws (New York: Penguin, 1970), 484. 18. E.g., Eth. Nic. 4.32-47 = ii2oa25ff. 19. Arist, Eth. Nic. 4.45 = H22b3o, trans. Terence Irwin, Aristotle: Nichomachean Ethics (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1985), 95. 20. Diog. Laert. 5.17, trans. R. D. Hicks, Diogenes Laertius: Lives of Eminent Philosophers, LCL (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1925), 1.460-61.

36

The Hungry Are Dying,

into account the individual's place in the network of civic relationships. Although Aristotle's systematic philosophy had little following for centuries, his comment here —and the purported occasion for it —suggest a preoccupation with moral "worth" in individual acts of "charity" by both Greeks and Romans, The importance of civic identity in public assistance is illustrated in Dio Chrysostom's account of social responses to a second-century famine In Oration 50, he talks about "pitying" "the commons" (demos), and easing their burdens. Yet Dio emphasizes that this obligation assumes social inequity: "We attend to the feet of a body if they are worse off than the eyes."21 Feet, Dio here implies, have value only insofar as they promote the effective progress of the corporate system. It benefits the city if one restores to a citizen the assets that have been unjustly lost; these "worthy" members of society would then be re-enabled to participate in the social order of the polls. Cicero and Seneca both discuss in Stoic terms the poor person who may approach them for legal representation. Cicero emphasizes both the role of social inequality and the importance of moral "worth" in granting beneficence to a client. In the De officiis he asserts: It is bitter as death for [the wealthy] to have accepted a patron or to be called clients. Your man of slender means, on the other hand, feels that whatever is done for him is done out of regard for himself and not for his outward circumstances. . . . If one defends a man who is poor [inopem] but honest and upright, all the lowly [humiles] who are not dishonest—and there is a large population of that sort among the people — look upon such an advocate as a tower of defense raised up for them .. . but in conferring favors our decision should depend entirely upon a man's character.22

In contrast, Seneca in his treatise De dementia, argues against all emotive factors, particularly mercy (misericordia), which causes irrational pathos and is thus a mental defect in those who seek self-control over the passions. The Stoic position on the passions was clearly contrary to much common opinion in the Roman world. Seneca's argument opposes pathos strictly in order to benefit justice: the good leader and judge "will not avert his countenance or his sympathy from anyone because he has a withered leg, or is emaciated and in rags, and is old and leans upon a staff; but all the worthy he will aid and will, like a god, look graciously upon the unfortunate."2^3 The emotions that the good judge denies are those of revulsion, here treated as an unnatural pathos that would tempt him to treat the suppliant unjustly. The Stoics rejected action that was based in violent pathe but argued for action when it was motivated by ideals of piety and justice. Within Seneca's text, the role of the good judge is intrinsically religious: he imitates the gods' divine justice who treats "the worthy" poor fairly. These texts clearly imply that some Greeks and Romans did give to beggars. Al-

21. Dio Chrys., Or. 50.3-4, trans. H. Lamar Crosby, Dio Chrysostom, LCL (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1946), 4.314-15. 22. Cic., Off. 2.20, trans. Walter Miller, in Cicero XXI: De Officiis, LCL (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2913), 21.244-47. 23. Sen., Clem. 2.6.3, trans. J. W. Basore, in Seneca I: Moral Essays, LCL (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1985), 1.442-43; my emphasis.

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though much of this evidence — brief, passing references in literature, philosophy and Greek comedy —is at best allusive, the poor were at least visible enough to be scorned and to survive, perhaps barely, in Classical and Hellenistic culture. The very existence of Cynic philosophers, who lived by begging, presumed that beggars might successfully survive on alms. One of the few beggars still visible against the walls of the ancient city — only because he was painted onto it — may represent a Cynic beggar. This is the image preserved on a fresco from Pompeii; the context is too fragmentary to provide a substantial commentary on alms in the Roman city.24 Yet these beggars remained conceptually peripheral to the community itself. Peter Brown argues, in discussing the fourth century C.E., that "the homeless and destitute were excluded" from "the self-image of the traditional city."25 Thus, he goes on, "in the opinion of Libanius, . . . outcasts without home or city could never be considered members of a citizen body. . . . The Christian bishop . . . erected his claim to authority over a social void. The poor were defined as those who belonged to no social grouping."26 To be excluded from a civic self-image, however, does not require that the poor were excluded from the ancient city itself, nor from all civic activities. After all, while the poor as such may be absent from the texts, destitute individuals were not necessarily absent from the feasts. The feast at Pegae, cited earlier, welcomed anyone who happened to show up: citizens, regional residents, Romans, slaves, and everyone's children. The way in which the playwrights construct beggars appeals to images undoubtedly familiar to the audience. The moralists and philosophers also recognized beggars and qualified alms in moral terms. These are not texts that exclude the poor. Rather, as Brown suggests, they exclude them very literally from the civic image. The problem of absence and exclusion, as Michael DeVinne has recently explored it,27 was a problem of select visibility. The destitute who roamed about the city constituted no discrete, conceptualized group and few considered them worth discussing except to criticize their plight or when numbers posed a political threat. Ptochoi and penetes, as Aristophanes suggests, were terms with particular meanings, but this meaning was of an ideological category only; it did not imply a social group. One might use these terms as labels, but those so labeled in any particular reference were more generally perceived (if they were perceived at all) in terms of other aspects of civic identity.28

24. For this image, which appears to depict a noble lady and subordinate female companion giving a coin to a bent, shaggy figure in rags who leans on a cane and is accompanied by a dog, see Robert Etienne, Pompeii: The Day a City Died, trans. Caroline Palmer (London: Thames and Hudson, 1992), 74. The presence of what appears to be a dog may further suggest the Cynic allusion. 25. Brown, Power and Persuasion, 84. 26. Ibid., 91, citing Libanius, Or. 41.11 (3.500). 27. Discussed in the Introduction and chapter 2. 28. It would be interesting to compare this evolving categorization of poverty, as it influenced particular body-identity, with recent studies exploring body-identity in late antiquity as it was defined in terms of gender (by which I mean physical state) or sexuality (by which I mean behavior). I think, however, that such a comparison cannot be done properly without a clear sense of body-identity as it relates to poverty. This latter emphasis must remain my chief concern for the present study.

38 The Hungry Are Dying

Food Gifts: Annona and Alimenta The distribution of free grain to Roman citizens (the annona) and to select children in certain Roman cities (the alimenta) functioned within this system of selective patronage which was concerned more with civic identity than with individual poverty. While the dole and the alimenta undoubtedly had an economic effect on the cities in which they took place, poverty was not an explicitly articulated motivation for these activities. The grain dole was an act of imperial euergetism under the special jurisdiction of the emperor, and he granted it only to certain cities.29 It is important to understand how the grain doles worked, since they were the largest available model for what eventually became poverty relief under the supervision of Christian bishops, the religious and civic patrons of late antiquity. Although the Roman grain allotment was not in itself a poverty-relief program, later Jewish and Christian assistance to the poor usually used a similar form of doling out food and sometimes clothing. When the poor qua poor enter the civic leitourgia in the fourth century C.E., as beneficiaries eligible because of their poverty, this assistance to a newly particularized population was practiced in the forms familiar to the patronage system: handouts of food and other beneficences, often regulated by administrative paperwork. Patronage as a concept implied feeding; the patron was sometimes referred to as the tropheus, one who nurtured with food. Understanding the Roman system, therefore, helps us to see how the administration of later religious charity did not create itself de novo but built on ancient traditions of civic practice. The alimenta was an allotment to meet the needs of select Roman children in various cities throughout the empire, probably with the motive of increasing the "worthy" population. It began under Hadrian in the second century and provided for children from birth until age 14 (for girls) or 18 (for boys).30 Inscriptions describe the administration, but the selection process is unclear. There is often a marked gender bias in the enrollment and even when equal numbers of boys and girls were enrolled, girls received a smaller portion for a shorter time.31 These children probably lived with their own families. The scheme was not linked (in the inscriptions) to poverty, though redistribution within a recipient's family might have occurred if food was short. The alimenta no longer existed as such by Constantine's time; his order

29. See Gordon, "The Veil of Power: Emperors, Sacrificers, and Benefactors," in Beard and North, eds., Pagan Priests, 199-255. Fora more complete discussion of the alimenta and doles, see Richard Duncan-Jones, The Economy of the Roman Empire: Quantitative Studies (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982); idem, Structure and Scale in the Roman Economy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990); Peter Garnsey, Famine and Food Supply in the Graeco-Roman World: Responses to Risk and Crisis (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1988); Geoffrey Rickman, The Com Supply of Ancient Rome. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980); and Boudewijn Sirks, Food for Rome (Amsterdam: J. C. Gieben, 1991, and Philadelphia: John Benjamins, 1994). 30. Duncan-Jones, Structure and Scale, 288. 31. Duncan-Jones (ibid., 294) notes that at Veleia between 102 and 113 C.E. the scheme supported 246 boys and 35 girls. Garnsey (Famine and Food Supply, 67) also notes a sharp distinction in Miletus, where 118 boys and 28 girls received aid.

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that provisions be supplied to families whose children were otherwise at risk of being sold suggests an attention to poverty absent from the earlier alimenta records.32 The grain dole was much broader in scope than the alimenta. The early Romans had collected grain as tax in the late fourth century B.C.E., and the term annona originally meant the "yearly return" from land over which Rome held power.33 The frumentationes, allotments of free or subsidized grain, became incorporated into the annona in 123 B.C.E. when G. Sempronius Gracchus passed it as one piece of legislation among several otherwise short-lived political reforms.34 The frumentationes were a distribution of grain made to select Roman citizens, usually plebs.35 Free grain distribution quickly became an effective campaign promise in the realm of political competition; by the time Augustus rose to power, one-third of the citizens of Rome were receiving a free grain allotment. Augustus reduced the number to oneseventh of the population, took the cura annona (task of supplying provisions) as his personal responsibility, and established the office of the praefectus annonae to oversee its administration. Grain remained an essential element in the emperor's identity as tropheus, particularly in his patronage of Rome and later Constantinople, although other cities also benefited.36 It was never at any time a universal program throughout the empire, nor did entitlement ever extend to all the citizens in any city. While it was linked to citizenship rather than poverty, the common upper-class fear of riots if the shipment failed suggests an element of genuine need among the recipients.37 Those who might riot were, after all, the lowest rung of society. The frumentationes continued as an imperial beneficence until they were finally abolished in Constantinople in 618.38 The grain came to Rome by ship from Egypt and North Africa, requiring a tightly controlled and extensive system of officials, warehouses, shipping arrangements, and distribution. Even with careful administration, success depended ultimately on the weather, the harvest, and the sea. The extraordinarily extensive number of surviving written records and legislation on the dole suggests just how vital collection and distribution was to Rome.39 Eligible recipients in Rome or Constantinople had to be Roman citizens, meet a minimum age requirement,40 and own the home in which they actually resided in

32. For Constantine's law providing food, see CT 11.27.1, discussed further on p. 56. For laws controlling the sale and redemption of freeborn children, see 0/4.43.2, 5.10.1, and 5.9.1. See also John Boswell's discussion in his The Kindness of Strangers: The Abandonment of Children in Western Europe from Late Antiquity to the Renaissance (New York: Random House, 1988), 70-72. 33. Sirks, Food for Rome, 10. 34. These Reforms concerned redistribution of land but not relief of poverty per se. 35. Sirks, Food for Rome, 12. 36. Ibid., 12—13; see also R. J. Rowland, "The Very Poor' and the Grain Dole at Rome and Oxyrhynchus," ZPE 21 (1976): 69-72. 37. Notwithstanding Dio Chrysostom's comment in Or. 46.41 that "need [for food] develops selfcontrol." 38. Sirks, Food for Rome, 12 fn 13. 39. For a detailed study, see Rickman, The Corn Supply of Ancient Rome. 40. For the occasional exception of children receiving the annona, see ibid., 184.

/p The Hungry Are Dying the city.41 The dole was issued monthly and some evidence suggests an average ration of 5 modii, that is, a supply of between 3,000 and 4,000 calories a day.42 While this would sufficiently feed one active man who ate nothing but grain, the portion in fact supplemented the diet of entire households, which presumably included pulses, vegetables, fruit, wine, oil, cheese, and occasionally fish or meat.43 During Augustus's reign recipients were issued tesserae, tickets entitling the bearer to the grain ration.44 Recipients were frequently referred to as incisi, "those engraved," suggesting further public records. During the Empire one might buy or give away a tessera frumentaria, and by the third century there are wills granting heirs a lifelong right to the deceased's tessera frumentaria. Household slaves would presumably benefit from the augmented household food supply, or they might be given their freedom to relieve impoverished or greedy owners from the obligation to feed them adequately. Slaves are, in fact, never included in either Roman or Cappadocian concepts of "the poor," presumably because, as possessions, they were guaranteed food and clothing, however suboptimal, precisely because of their dependent identity. Through the second century, distribution in Rome took place at or around the Porticus Minucia. Commodus reorganized the grain shipments, building huge granaries; many of these were in Ostia.45 Septimius Severus added oil to the grain distribution and added a tax on the oil from Tripolitania to cover this cost. Aurelian added pork and wine. These products are all low-maintenance, requiring government laborers only at the point of distribution. Oil, wine, and grain can be stored passively for some time with minimal manpower. Pigs must be slaughtered fresh but until slaughter require minimal care and can be fed almost anything. The form of the distribution changed radically in the third century, from whole grain to baked bread, setting into motion the need for a new level of state-funded labor: baking. This significantly altered the entire government structure. The collegia of Roman bakers was never quite the same again. The bakers of Rome became functionally enslaved to state control. The state took over the collegia and the lives of bakers and their children, forbidding any to change their occupation and even enforcing marriages within the collegia..^6 Even so, there was a chronic shortage of bakers. By Theodosius's day stories circulated of Roman bars and brothels where one might be forcibly kidnapped to labor in the underground bakeries.47 African governors were obligated to help fill this gap by peri-

41. CT 14.17.1 (A.D. 364): "The right to the bread rations shall follow the houses," trans. Clyde Pharr, in The Theodosian Code (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1952), 418. 42. Rickman, The Corn Supply, 173. 43. For the diet of antiquity, see, e.g., Andrew Dalby, Siren Feasts: A History of Food and Gastronomy in Greece (London and New York: Routledge, 1996); Emily Gowers, The Loaded Table: Representations of Food in Roman Literature (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993); and John Wilkins, David Harvey, and Mike Dobson, eds., Food in Antiquity (Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 1995). 44. Rickman, The Com Supply, 186 and n. 107. 45. For details see G. E. Rickman, Roman Granaries and Store Buildings (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971). 46. CT 14.3.2 and 14.3.14. 47. Socrates in HE 5.18.

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odically shipping breadmakers to Rome in addition to the usual shipments of wheat.48 In 364 and 365 Valentinian and Valens ruled that bakers were forbidden to escape their lot by joining the clergy; any who attempted "can and must be recalled after any length of time to the association of breadmakers."49 The bread of the imperial city was, to even these Christian emperors, a far more urgent priority than the bread of any heavenly city. Bakers purchased grain from the granaries and prepared the bread in their own bakeries. They could not sell or distribute state grain or bread from their own bakery. Instead, it was distributed from gradus, steps at various points throughout the city. Thus public bread was sometimes called panis gradilis. Distribution took place on different days in different parts of the city and recipients were on lists for their neighborhood's gradus. Late-fourth-century legislation suggests that the allotment at that time varied according to household size, which was kept on record. The office of the praefectus annonae, established and maintained through Constantine's reign as a position accorded equestrian status, gained senatorial status by 328. By the mid fourth century, the praefectus annonae in both Rome and Constantinople was under the authority of the respective praefectus urbi and responsible not only for the procurement of supplies but also for the entire distribution network. Grain for the dole came into the city from the land and revenue of state-owned properties, or else from supplies purchased with state funds. Most grain came from Egypt and North Africa, but grain might also be levied from towns in Italy, Spain, and Gaul.50 The emperor himself determined the size of the city's grain supply. In Africa in the mid fourth century, the proconsul and vicar of Africa were responsible for seeing that the grain was delivered to coastal granaries and for protecting it from theft and loss. One-third of the amount fixed by the emperor was shipped as early as possible when the seas "opened" in April. Shipping ended in October.

Poverty and the Grain Distributions Beyond this basic imperial leitourgia, the grain dole did not concern itself with relieving unusual or unqualified destitution. Although recipients of the annona and alimenta undoubtedly included citizens who were poor, their poverty was at worst that of the penetes, not the ptochoi. The food supply retained at all times a state of delicate equilibrium which could be upset at any moment by fire, drought, storms at sea, or political crisis. There was tremendous public anxiety lest provision and distribution fail. In any gift economy, the gift is one form of the market. The power of the poor in Rome to influence public liturgists existed only insofar as they belonged, by blood or fictive kinship, to either the patron, the community, or both. In the year 51, when the wheat dole was late, the mob pelted Claudius with dry breadcrumbs in the

48. CT 14.3.12 and 14.3.17; see also Rickman, The Corn Supply, 205. 49. CT 14.3.11, trans. Pharr, in The Theodosian Code, 407. 50. Rickman, The Com Supply, 201 and 11.17.

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Forum.51 Yet the fact that they had uneaten scraps and the energy and willingness to throw them suggests a distress following anxiety rather than acute starvation. In summary, although the emperor Julian asserted that poverty assistance was practiced "of old" among the Greeks, one looks in vain for any evidence of structured poverty relief as such prior to the fourth century C.E. All Greeks who participated in religious feasts benefited from the community meals, but they were not limited to those within the community in need. Among Roman attempts at social redistribution, the Gracchi were concerned only with land reforms. Caesar's fiscal reforms remitted accumulated interest on old debts but did not affect or forgive the debtors' obligations to pay off the principal.52 The imperial food programs reveal the same focus on social equilibrium rather than equality or poverty assistance programs. The annona and the dole undoubtedly had some "trickle-down" effect that benefited the very poor within the households eligible for these benefices, but the goal in both plans was to strengthen the city, not support the weak within it. Thus the poor qua poor could neither compete with nor enter into the Graeco-Roman leitourgia.

Leitourgia and the (Present) Poor: Judaism Greek-speaking Jews generally used the word leitourgia to refer to liturgy in the terms of Temple ritual. The Septuagint uses it in this way,53 as do Philo54 and Josephus.55 Yet as with pagans and Christians, the Jews practiced piety not only by ritual but also in very specific social behaviors directed at supporting the needs of the community and strengthening civic or kinship ties. Rabbinic prescriptions for these behaviors illustrate a link similar to that found in the Greek texts between religious practice and communal or civic patronage.56 Leitourgia, a Greek word, does not of course occur in the rabbinic texts, although it does occur in the Septuagint (see introduction). There is little inscriptional evidence for Jewish communities in Cappadocia apart from what Christians called "Judaizers," such as the cult of Theos Hypsistos from which Gregory of Nazianzus's father had been converted.57 Further, Christians throughout the Roman Empire had been reading the Old Testament for three centuries in ways that expressly distanced themselves from their Jewish contemporaries. There is no evidence that the formative ideals of rabbinic Judaism influenced the Cappadocian sermons, although, as mentioned, Nyssen writes that Basil's assistance

51. Suetonius, Claudius 18. 52. See, e.g., M. W. Frederiksen, "Caesar, Cicero and the Problem of Debt," JRS 56 (1966): 128-41. 53. Ex. 37:19; Num. 8:22; 16:9; 18:4; 2 Chron. 31:2; Joel 1:9,13. 54. E.g., Philo, Mas. 2,152; Spec. Leg. 1,82; Virt. 54. 55. E.g., Josephus, B] 1.26; A/ 3.107. 56. For a collection of rabbinic texts on alms, charity, and poverty, which most probably took written form between the fourth and seventh centuries, see C. G. Montefiore and H. Loewe, A Rabbinic Anthology (New York: Schocken, 1974), 412-50. 57. See, e.g., Paul R. Trebilco, Jewish Communities in Asia Minor (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991); also Stephen Mitchell, Anatolia: Land of Men and Gods in Asia Minor, vol. 2: The Rise of the Church (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), 31-37.

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during the famine of 368 included Jewish youths. This means Basil fed them; it does not mean he listened to them, nor that they necessarily held any of the rabbinic views that may have attained codification during this period. However, the emergence of various rabbinic texts that came together into the Talmudim in the fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries suggests a background of animated discussion among Jewish communities over certain issues, whether or not the ideas yet took written form and whether or not a community accepted them when they did. Even when they did emerge, the rabbinic opinions are prescriptive and ideal. In any historical exploration of this material, one must ever keep in mind its chronological ambiguity and imaginative, even Utopian, nature. Although an in-depth exploration of rabbinic texts on poverty and the poor is far beyond the limits of this study, several texts are worth considering briefly as representing social attitudes of some communities contemporary with the process of Christian influence on Hellenistic practice. The rabbinic texts about poverty and poverty relief suggest that, regardless of identity issues, there existed Jews and Christians who held a very similar range of views about poverty, the poor, and poverty relief, values Julian was eager to instill in his pagan priests. The poor are present in these texts on Jewish poverty relief in three ways. First, they are recognized as a distinctly protected economic group by biblical legislation, which acknowledged them as active social agents. Inter alia these laws graded the required sacrifices according to the donors' means,58 restricted the time a lender could hold a poor man's clothing as a pledge,59 and forbade interest on loans to "the poor among you."60 The legislation on Pe'ah61 discussed briefly in what follows, permitting the poor to harvest from the fallen grain in any Jewish field in Israel, illustrates the detailed concern for this aspect of empowering the poor to act on their own behalf. Later Jewish texts preserved in Greek, such as the book of Tobit, emphasize the supreme value of almsgiving and care for the poor as fundamental to the righteous life of the pious Jew. Tobit was an important text for later Christian discourse on poverty and alms.52 Second, the poor were eligible as passive recipients of alms and social assistance on the basis of their identity within this special group. This assistance took several forms but particularly included donations from community poor chests administered and distributed by community religious leaders, and by food distribution as in the example of the "soup kitchen" at Aphrodisias, discussed later. Third, the Jewish texts on the poor recognize their need for human dignity. Donations and the right to receive special protection should (ideally) always also protect recipients from experiencing public shame.

58. E.g., Lev. 14:21-22. 59. Dent. 24:12-13.

60. Ex. 22:25. 61. Lev. 19:9-10, discussed at length in the Mishnah and Talmudic material; outlined briefly below. 62. For a brief discussion see Garrison, Redemptive Almsgiving in the Early Church, JSNT Suppl. Ser. 77 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993), 53~54- Polycarp used Tobit 4.10 (or 12.9) as a proof text (Ep. ad Philonem 10.2). For a summary of the influence ofTobit on early Christianity, see L. Vanyo, "Tobias," in Encyclopedia of the Early Church, vol. 2. See also Ambrose's De Tohia, discussed briefly in chapter 3.

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The Fields: Pe'ah The Mishnah's Tractate Pe'ah, traditionally dated around 200 C.E., preserves one formative rabbinic interpretation of the injunction to the Israelites to leave the fallen grain at the edges of their fields for the poor. Tractate Pe'ah defines the ideal Jewish community's practice of the Torah's injunction, concerned only with "God's land," that is, within a Utopian society of Jews farming in Israel, and assumes a Jewish concern for the poor of their own community. It explores the ideal religious rights of those poor persons to enable themselves to survive as self-employed laborers in their neighbors' fields. In his study on the Tractate Pe'ah,fi Roger Brooks observed that God, not the householder, was obliged to provide for the poor, and thus it had to be God, not the active intent of the harvesters, who designated the portion of harvest to be allocated for the poor. In other words, precisely the random, forgotten, "accidental" nature of the discarded harvest made it into pe'ah. This is remarkable in light of what has been said so far about rights and patronage. According to Brooks, the farmer has a religious but not a social obligation to provide for the poor because "the poor perform no service on behalf of the householder and so have no direct claim upon him."64 This is in direct contrast to the priests' rations, which must be explicitly allotted by reason of the essential nature of the priests' service for the Jewish householder. Rights are here directly related to interdependence and power. If the householder becomes actively involved in deciding what is pe'ah (rather than simply designating it after the fact), he would not only be interfering with God but would be inappropriately claiming responsibility to care for the poor. The "poor" in this tractate consist of any who cannot support themselves throughout the year. A concern for justice drives these guidelines. Tractate Pe'ah attends with great detail to the behavior of the householder, the donor: how he harvests the field and how he determines who of the poor may reap from it. Must they be fellow Jews? It is not explicit in the legislation itself, as Sifre Deut. no.E notes: "Perhaps [. . . poor man's tithe must be given] to members of the covenant and to [those who are] not governed by the covenant [i.e., to both Israelites and gentiles alike]." Not every authority agreed; Sifre Deut. no.F argues that only members of the covenant are eligible recipients.65 Greeks, Romans, and Christians were not alone in their anxiety about sharing outside the group. Food Donations and Soup Kitchens Although the pe'ah texts argue that it was God's responsibility to feed the poor, Jews were nonetheless enjoined to actively imitate God's justice by contributing alms and administering their distribution to the needy within the community. Rabbinic examples abound. Almsgiving is considered a sacred activity that is believed to effect

63. Roger Brooks, Support for the Poor in the Mishnaic Law of Agriculture: Tractate Peak (Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1983). 64. Ibid., 19. 65. Ibid., 168.

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purity. Certain texts advise that Jewish alms collectors in some cities "for the sake of peace" should collect from and give aid to Jews and Gentiles alike.66 Schtirer67 suggested that the funds might be administered either from a weekly money chest or the "plate," a fund for daily food money. The individual's economic straits determined the source from which assistance might come: alms from the "plate" could be offered to the very poor, those who had less than a two-day supply of food. Assistance from the money chest could be open to those with less than a two-week supply (but who had enough for two days). Two people were prescribed for collection, and three for distribution. These texts, though late and not necessarily known to many Jews or any Christians, illustrate a continuity in the general Jewish concern for the poor which Julian noted in the mid fourth century. The rabbinic texts did not recommend self-impoverishment, although they do, like the Christian texts, identify the poor with God. A passage in Midrash Tannaim says, "God says to Israel, 'My sons, whenever you give sustenance to the poor, I impute it as though you gave sustenance to me. . . .' Does then God eat and drink? No, but whenever you give food to the poor, God accounts it to you as if you gave food to Him."68 And a midrash on Psalm 118 says: "In the future world man will be asked, 'What was your occupation?' If he reply, 'I fed the hungry; then they reply, 'This is the gate of the Lord; he who feeds the hungry, let him enter.' (Ps. 118:20). So with giving drink to the thirsty, clothing for the naked, with those who look after orphans and with those, generally, who do deeds of lovingkindness."69 While rabbinic material is prescriptive and anecdotal by nature, one piece of "hard evidence" of Jewish food assistance in late antiquity is in a Greek inscription on a stone found at Aphrodisias, dated to the third century. This inscription attests to a Jewish "food kitchen" erected to assist the poor in the community. This large block of marble was found lying loose, nearly 9 feet long with each side approximately 18 inches wide; it was inscribed on two adjacent sides with lists of donors' names. The names on face a are stated to be those who helped in the construction of a TUueMict.70 Joyce Reynolds and Robert Tannenbaum's study of the stone has evoked much debate regarding the Jewish nature of the text and the controversial significance of the term godfearers to describe donors.71 This discussion has almost excluded any consideration of the significance of the patella, which Reynolds and Tannenbaum translate "soup-kitchen." The relevant section is the first eight lines of the inscription on face a: "God our help. Givers to the soup kitchen. Below are listed the members of

66. Jerusalem Talmud, Demai IV.6f,24a, line 67 cited in Montefiore and Loewe, A Rabbinic Anthology, 424. 67. Emil Schiirer, The History of the Jewish People in the Age of Jesus Christ: A New English Edition, ed. Geza Vermes, Fergus Millar, and Matthew Black, (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1979), 2.437. For more on the rabbinic material as it relates to early Christianity, see Johnson, Sharing Possessions 133-39, 146-48. 68. Cited in Montefiore and Loewe, A Rabbinic Anthology, 414. 69. Cited in ibid., 433. 70. Joyce Reynolds and Robert Tannenbaum, Jews and Godfearers at Aphrodisias (Cambridge: Cambridge Philological Society, 1987). 71. See review of ibid, by M. Goodman, JRS 78 (1988): 261-62.

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the decany of the students of the law, also known as those who fervently praise God, who erected, for the relief of suffering in the community, at their personal expense, this memorial."72 As the stone was not found in situ, the identity of the building as a "soup kitchen" depends entirely on the word patella. Although the meaning of this word is open to some debate, all possible meanings function wholly within the cultural perception of food as leitourgia in its several senses. Patella is a Latin loanword that was well integrated into Greek by the first century C.E. The first (Latin) meaning is "dish, plate, pan" as used in the kitchen or at table, but it also has the sense of an "offering dish" (as in the cult of the Lares); in one rare use it refers to an object presented as a military decoration. In the Greek papyri it means "dish or plate used for food purposes" and seems to have passed, transliterated, into Hebrew where it means a "cooking pot or a basket," commonly for dates. On this evidence, Reynolds and Tannenbaum argue that its use on the Aphrodisias block is a Hebrew transliteration (into Greek) of the Latin loanword, denoting "plate" as a specific connotation of food alms for the very poor. This interpretation perfectly fits the context of the building as it is described in lines 6-7: "for the relief of suffering in the community." In the context of the double meaning of all ancient leitourgia, as both civic and ritual, and because food was a fundamental liturgical element in both Greek and Roman culture, the multiple nuances of the meaning of patella here may be intentional. Nonetheless, all scholars to date have accepted the interpretation "soup kitchen," and the Jewish nature of the inscription on face a. If all this is correct, then we find here within a Jewish community an organized food charity motivated by Jewish piety, in Asia Minor sometime during the rabbinic period. Although the original site of the stone in the city of Aphrodisias (if indeed that is where it first belonged) cannot be identified, it can be dated with some confidence. Marianne Palmer Bonz has argued convincingly that the adjacent inscriptions on the stone belong, with "virtual certainty," to entirely different centuries. On epigraphical grounds, she dates the "godfearers" inscription of face b to the third century C.E. and the "soup kitchen" inscription efface a much later, between the fourth and sixth centuries.73 While the general trend has been to try to date the inscriptions as early as possible, this later date for the patella inscription in fact increases its interest and relevance to the present discussion. If Bonz is correct, then it attests to a Jewish presence in organizational poverty relief immediately contemporary with the rise of the Christian ptochotropheion. It provides a valuable rare glimpse into Jewish charity in late antiquity outside of the ambiguity of the prescriptive texts (but also possibly contemporary with them). Bonz argues that the use of 6eo<; |JoTi96<; in the inscription is probably "Jewish usage developed in imitation and adaptation of the prevailing Christian stylistic

72. Reynolds and Tannenbaum, Jews and Codfearers, 41. 73. Marianne Palmer Bonz, "The Jewish Donor Inscriptions from Aphrodisias: Are They Both Third-Century, and Who Are the Theosebeis?" HSCP 96 (1994): 281-99. For another argument that the line containing the word itctteXte is fifth-century, see SEG 43.700.

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norm,"74 but we cannot be sure whether this is true also of the soup kitchen itself. It is also unfortunate, but characteristic of all euergetistic remains, that the inscription describes the donors in some detail but says nothing substantive about the presumed identity of those "suffering in the community" who were the intended recipients. Despite these uncertainties, the Aphrodisias inscription remains important for identifying Jewish charity relief in the Graeco-Roman community of late antiquity. Rabbinic Injunctions: Charity with Dignity Finally, rabbinic texts about the poor often depict them as human beings worthy of dignity and protection from public shame, especially protection from the need to beg in public. Some rabbis advised that alms be deposited in secret,75 with even the donor (ideally) pretending not to notice. Others suggested that loans were preferable to alms because they gave the recipient the dignity of reciprocating the donation and could easily and quietly be converted into "gifts" if repayment was or became impossible.76 Poverty is sometimes perceived as a test from God for both poor (testing their responses) and rich (testing their generosity). Although it was believed that God uses poverty, one rabbinic text argued that "there is nothing in the world more grievous than poverty —the most grievous of all sufferings."77 Jews were reminded of the high level of religious benefit they might gain from these loans: "He who lends without interest is regarded by God as if he had fulfilled all the commandments."78 Redemptive almsgiving prescribed in various Old Testament passages from the Psalms, Proverbs, and moral texts like Tobit was also an important theme in various rabbinic texts: "Charity delivers the soul from death and Gehinnom;79 and "if a man busies himself in the study of Torah and in acts of charity all his sins are forgiven him."80 In summary, this very brief sampling of Jewish texts about assisting the poor represents views taught in certain Jewish communities within a century of the rise of the Christian ptochotropheion. These Jewish texts consistently view this aid as a particular social leitourgia, a moral responsibility to provide for the material needs of those in the community who cannot provide for themselves. While their understanding of aid is rooted in the perceived nature of God, these rabbinic texts, unlike Christian texts, generally do not identify social aid directly with sacrifice in any explicit way. Instead, social aid in the Jewish community of late antiquity was an intrinsic part of religious life because good deeds pleased God. These texts also differ from the

74. Bonz, "The Jewish Donor Inscriptions from Aphrodisias," 290. 75. "Just as there was a Vestry of secret givers' in the Temple, so there was one in every city for the sake of respectable people who had come down in life, so they might be helped in secret." Tosefta, Shekalim II,16, as cited in Montefiore and Lowe, A Rabbinic Anthology, 420. 76. E.g., Ket. 67b [1161]; Shek. V,6 [1166]; Jerusalem Talmud, Pe'ah 8,9 [1187]; Tosefta Pe'ah 4,12 [1194]; numbers in brackets note the entry in Montefiore and Lowe, A Rabbinic Anthology. 77. Exodus Rabbah, Mishpatim 31.12. 78. Exodus Rabbah, Mishpatim 31.13. 79. Babylonian Talmud, Shabbath i$6b; Rosh Hashanah i6b; Gittin 73, b. 80. Babylonian Talmud, Berakoth $b.

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Graeco-Roman view of community leitourgia in that within the Judaisms of late antiquity, the poor were entitled to assistance qua poor. Even impostors deserved aid; God would punish them for anything they requested that they did not actually need. The poor, qua poor, were visible and explicit social entities who bore positive religious meaning, through which God was believed to take note of good deeds.

Leitourgia and the (Present) Poor: Early Christianity Early Christian use of leitourgia reflects both ritual and common civic meaning. The Septuagint's view of leitourgia as religious ritual is found again in the New Testament81 as well as in early patristic texts, such as i Clement,82 and others implying Christian use of Jewish ideas. The Testament ofLevi refers to the leitourgia of the angels in that they also serve God in ritual context, offering "propitiary sacrifices . . . a rational and bloodless leitourgia."83 Many New Testament and early patristic texts use the word leitourgia to refer either to early Christian worship or, in its more general meaning, to the obligation to meet material needs of the community. The Pauline texts use leitourgia as a metaphor for ritual sacrifice, but always in the context of specific, physical provisions. Paul describes his collection of money for Jerusalem (2 Cor. 9:12) as a leitourgia that "not only supplies the needs of the saints but also overflows with many thanksgivings to God." In Philippians 2:7 Paul refers to himself as "poured out as a libation over the sacrifice and leitourgia of your faith.. .," and in Philippians 2:30 he praises Epaphroditis for risking his life "to make up for those leitourgia you would not give me." Romans 15:27, again referring to the collection for Jerusalem, links spiritual blessing with sarx leitourgia: the Gentile converts to Christianity, Paul says, owe this money to the "poor among the saints at Jerusalem" because, "if the Gentiles have come to share in their spiritual blessings, they ought also to be of service to them in the leitourgia that pertains to the flesh [evTOU;actpKUcoic, Xevroupynaai]." Other early Christian texts speak of leitourgia as explicit ritual. In Acts 13:2 the Holy Spirit called Barnabas and Paul while the Christians were "worshipping [XeiTOUpyo'UVTCBv] and fasting." i Clement notes that by means of the ark Noah "proclaimed a second birth to the world by his leitourgia, and through him the Master saved the living creatures that entered the ark in harmony."84 Later Christian exegesis commonly interpreted the salvation imagery of Noah's ark in the liturgical imagery of baptism. Hermas similarly refers to leitourgia as a religious ritual for both body and soul. Mandate 5.1-2 describes the leitourgia of the Holy Spirit as it dwells within the "spacious room" of the believer who is pure and at peace. If the believer becomes angry, however, the Holy Spirit "does not have a clean place, and it seeks to leave" because

81. E.g., Luke 1:23; Heb. 9:21; Tit. 1:9. 82. i Clem. 40.2; 40.5. 83. Test. Lev. 3.5, trans. R. H. Charles, The Greek Version of the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1908, reprint Hildesheim: Olms, 1960), 34. 84. i Clem. 9.4, trans. J. B. Lightfoot and J. R. Harmer, and rev. Michael W. Holmes, The Apostolic Fathers: Second Edition (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1992), 39.

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4 9

there is insufficient room for proper leitourgia.85 Hermas's Similitudes 5.3.3 speaks of leitourgia as doing "anything good beyond God's commandment," resulting in "greater glory" and "more honor in God's sight," as for example fasting on bread and water with a pure heart: "Your sacrifice will be acceptable in God's sight and this fast will be recorded, and the leitourgia performed in this way is beautiful and joyous and acceptable to the Lord."86 i Clement also refers to leitourgia as a function that benefits both God and humankind. Even the winds, Clement says, "from different quarters fulfill their leitourgia in the proper season without disturbance," created by God for the benefit of creation.87 Others who specifically offer leitourgia to God include the angels88 and human beings who play a variety of (undefined) roles in the church.89 Although leitourgia in the Septuagint and early Christian texts usually refers to formal worship ritual, in the Greek-speaking public sphere it continued for centuries to bear the other connotations of civic duties, always simultaneously understood to refer to acts of piety to the gods. In the early fourth century, Eusebius of Caesarea includes among the Diocletian martyrs the bishop Phileas of Thmuis, "a man esteemed for his patriotic activities and public services [leitourgia], and for his work as a philosopher."90 Eusebius uses leitourgia in the same sense in describing the martyred Vettius Epagathus, a man of high social status in Gaul, who was "untiring in leitourgia to his neighbor, utterly devoted to God, and fervent in spirit."91 The use of leitourgia does not always carry all possible connotations, but it usually bears a general meaning complementary to both images of social action and devotion to the god(s). Leitourgia and the Voice of the Poor in Early Christian Texts Early Christian texts speak at best only generally about the poor, although gospel stories exalt both voluntary and involuntary poverty. Both Matthew's and Luke's versions of the beatitudes identify "poverty" (whether taken literally as in Luke or "spiritually" as in Matthew) with the "kingdom of heaven." The stories of Jesus feeding the thousands are marked by references to the poverty and hunger of both the disciples who distribute the miraculous provisions and the recipient crowds. The gospel injunction, "Sell all you have and give it to the poor, and come follow Me," orders voluntary poverty as a prerequisite to a life following Jesus, a life interpreted as service or worship to God as defined by the Christian texts. While the poor in gospel texts are (with the exception of lepers) usually found hanging around the temple or other "holy" sites (like the pool of Bethesda) where

85. Hermas, Mand. 5.1-2, trans. Lightfoot and Harmer, The Apostolic Fathers, 386-87. 86. Hermas, Sim. 5.3.3, trans. Lightfoot and Harmer, The Apostolic Fathers, 432-33. 87. i Clem. 20.10, trans. Lightfoot and Harmer, The Apostolic Fathers, 52-53. 88. i Clem. 34.5. 89. Ibid. 41.1; 44.2,3,6. go. 94. Euseb., HE 8.9.7, trans. G. A. Williamson, The History of the Church (New York: Penguin, !965X 33891. Euseb., HE 5.1.9, trans. Williamson, 194.

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they expect aid from all who come for religious purposes, the Gospels do not emphasize this natural identification of social leitourgia with the liturgy of the Jewish cult, probably because of the close relationship that evolved between Christian selfdefinition and the abolition of the Temple cult. Yet this link between religious liturgy and the social leitourgia that cares for the poor body is part of the Christian liturgy from the very earliest texts, even New Testament texts where the "liturgy" of Jesus's disciples actually occurs in the Temple precincts (e.g., Acts 3:1-5^). According to Justin Martyr, a collection for the poor was taken as part of the weekly worship service and the funds enabled the leader of the congregation to care for orphans, widows, the sick, the prisoners, strangers, and "all those in need."92 The Didache also advocated a regular collection of food as part of worship and, "if you have no prophet give them to the poor."93 The Christian ideal of voluntary poverty was usually associated with a piety that took special care of the involuntary poor. For example, i Clement suggested that "many have sold themselves to slavery and, receiving the price paid for themselves, have fed others."94 Early bishops, too, were expected to live poorly and to provide for the poor around them.95 Nonetheless, the person who did not will to be poor was often assumed to be implicitly inferior, a victim of the passions and desires that engender need and create the dependence that precludes true self-mastery. Clement of Alexandria admits this when he says, "For not riches only, but also honour and marriage and poverty have ten thousand cares for him who is unfit for them."96 Few early Christian texts on poverty recognize this moral distinction, and indeed few seem to see the involuntary poor as bodies with minds at all, but rather as images of static ideals. Occasionally, however, glimpses reflect the mind and soul of the poor person, as an individual with moral options. One is found in Origen's treatise "On Prayer;" another is a passing reference in a fifth-century Pelagian treatise, "On Riches." A third, more extensive, is found in Clement of Alexandria's treatise Quis dives salvetur? "Who Is the Rich Man Who May Be Saved?" These texts illustrate ways in which the Christian view of involuntary poverty was nuanced by certain assumptions about the involuntary poor. Origen, in what sounds like an afterthought, argues that the poor, too, have a need to practice prayer: Since I have not said much about the poor man, if someone disdains the poor man's temptation as no temptation at all, let him know that the Plotter plots to bring down the poor and needy (Ps. 37:14) especially since, according to Solomon, 'the poor man does not stand up to threatening' (Prov. 13:8, LXX) . . . How many have fallen away from the heavenly hope by bearing their poverty basely and living more slavishly and more lowly than is fitting among saints?97

92. Justin Martyr, Apol. 1.67, trans. Cyril C. Richardson, Early Christian Fathers, LCC (New York: MacMillan, 1970), 287. 93. Did. 13.4-5, trans. Lightfoot and Harmer, The Apostolic Fathers, 266-67. 94. i Clem., Ep. Cor. 55.2, trans. Lightfoot and Harmer, The Apostolic Fathers, 88—89. 95. See, e.g., Didascalia 4.2.3—5. 96. Clem., Stromateis 4.6, trans. W. Wilson, ANF 2.414. 97. Origen, On Prayer, 29 in Origen: An Exhortation to Martyrdom, Prayer, First Principles: Book IV, Prologue to the Commentary on the Song of Songs, Homily XXVII on Numbers, ed. and trans. Rowan A. Greer, CWS (New York, Paulist Press, 1979), 152.

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The poor man in this text is not one who has chosen poverty but one with choices nonetheless about how to bear it. The text suggests that Origen here speaks of believers ("saints") who face the same risk of temptations as do their wealthy counterparts. Yet their vulnerability is a direct consequence of their material poverty. Selfmastery is again the key to righteousness for all those who have choices within the state in which they find themselves. A passing comment in the fifth-century Pelagian letter "On Riches," further affirms involuntary poverty as a state in which holy feelings and actions may not be natural for all but may be possible for some who will it. This treatise explicitly advocates complete divestment of personal wealth and the writer argues with his ideologic opponents: " 'But,' you will say, 'folly and knavery are to be found among the poor as well.' Yes, but no one covets poverty, and it is easier for the poor man to divest himself of such feelings than it is for the rich man, since poverty not only does not provide the raw materials for sin but in most cases renders it impossible."98 On one level, this text seems to simply reflect the biblical claim that heaven is easier for the poor to attain than it is for the rich. Yet, in this radical interpretation of the economic route to holiness the author refers to the capacity of the involuntary poor to divest themselves of their covetous "feelings." Thus, as with Origen, the poor are here understood as those who retained the ability to make spiritual choices even when they had no material choices. The ideal choice here is one of internal selfmastery over desires rather than (simply) the choice to do without material goods, although the Pelagian text considers ownership entirely sinful and complete divestment as essential. Nonetheless both texts assume a fundamentally negative view of the common poor: as weak, susceptible to folly, knavery, living "basely," "slavishly," and "lowly." A more extensive image contrasting the involuntary nature and moral implications of both poverty and wealth is found in one of the earliest systematic Christian treatises on this moral dilemma, Clement of Alexandria's Quis Dives Salvetur." Clement explicitly discourages wholesale divestment by spiritualizing the biblical injunctions, arguing that "the renunciation and sale of all possessions is to be understood as spoken of the passions of the soul."100 Pagans, after all, have given up wealth to a variety of imperfect ends: "It was no new thing to renounce wealth and give it freely to the poor [rrafl%oi<;] or to one's fatherland [f\ Ttatpiow] since many have done this before the coming of the Savior: some in order to gain the leisure of the word and on account of dead wisdom, others for empty fame and vainglory, as the Anaxagorases, the Democriti, and Crateses."101 According to Clement here, it is

98. "On Riches" 20.6, trans. B. R. Rees, The Letters ofPelagius and His Followers (Woodridge and Rochester, New York: Boynton Press, 1991), 210; my emphasis. I am grateful to Tim Samuel Shah for directing me to this text. For a more detailed discussion of Pelagius's De divitiis, see Carlo Scaglioni, " 'Guia a voi ricchi!' Pelagic e gli scritti pelangiani," in Per foramen acus: ll cristianesimo antico di fronte alia pericope evangelica del "giovane ricco," Studia Patristica Mediolanensia 14 (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 1986), 361-98. 99. For the Greek, see Clemens Alexandrinus III, GCS iy2 (1970), 159-91. Unless otherwise noted, I follow the translation of W. Wilson, ANF 2.591-604. 100. Clem., Q.d.s. 14, trans. Wilson, ANF 2.595. 101. Ibid. 11.3-4, adapted from Wilson, ANF 2.594, w^° does no' translate the phrase r) Jtaiptcriv. It is unclear what specific teachings Clement refers to in the pagan beneficence of those he identifies with

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not beneficial to lack the means of either survival or assisting the needy: "Riches which also benefit our neighbor should not be thrown away."102 Clement considered nothing intrinsically sinful in wealth: "If because of his involuntary birth a man is banished from [eternal] life, he is wronged by God who created him."103 This attitude influences Clement's comments on the involuntary poor. Since Clement is most concerned with the importance of mastering internal desire rather than divesting himself of external goods, the poor may be viewed as facing the same difficulties as the rich. The person who chooses voluntary poverty may actually be dominated more by his passions when he is poor than when he was rich, simply because of basic human need, "being at once destitute of and desiring what he spent, he may doubly grieve both. . . . For it is impossible and inconceivable that those in want of the necessaries of life should not be harassed in mind and hindered from better things in the endeavor to provide [sustenance] somehow and from some source."104 The voluntary poor thus may face double anguish if they have given away so much that they are no longer able to provide for their own needs. Although they may seem to live like the involuntary poor, they are, Clement suggests, not better off but worse for their internal anguish. This argument against total divestment, mild as it is, did not become the prevailing view in the written texts that survive, and few later texts echo Clement's systematic caution against ascetic poverty. However, the fact that liberal donations and Christian wealth in late antiquity did not necessarily mark one as a new convert suggests that the majority of Christians actually practiced a positive view of wealth more like Clement's. Clement also acknowledges a distinction between the "deserving" and the "undeserving" poor, although he does not wholly accept it: "Wretched are the . . . poor who have no part in God and still less in human property, and have not tasted the righteousness of God."105 One must also assist these ignorant poor, he argues, for two reasons. First, the donors may be in error in judging the moral state of the beggar.106 Second, the donors ought to give to "the carnal poor, who are destitute of [heaven],107 because alms buy salvation for the donor. Although Clement advises general retention of wealth, he holds that redemptive almsgiving is achieved by divesting oneself of superfluous possessions that may benefit the "carnal poor."108 By this trade both the rich and the poor gain a desired end. Clement clearly considers destitution — voluntary or involuntary — a hindrance to spiritual growth. One ought not to emulate poverty but rather emulate God's spe-

Anaxagoras and Crates. For some of the sayings on civic duty and the poor attributed to Democrates, see, e.g., Jonathan Barnes, Early Greek Philosophy (New York: Penguin Books, 1987), 277 (4.1.42—46), 281 (4.33.23-24), and 283 (4.40.20-21). 102. Clem., Q.d.s. 14, trans. Wilson, ANF 2.595. 103. Ibid. 26, trans. Wilson, ANF 2.598. 104. Ibid. 12, trans. Wilson, ANF 2.594. 105. Ibid. 17, trans. Wilson, ANF 2.596. 106. Ibid. 32, trans. Wilson, ANF 2.600. 107. Ibid. 17, trans. Wilson, ANF 2.596. 108. Ibid.

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cial compassion for the poor. Although poverty is an unenviable affliction, Clement assumes that God dwells within the poor: "Do not look contemptuously to personal appearance nor the penniless nor ragged nor ugly nor feeble. . . . This form is cast from without.. .. But within dwells the hidden father and his child who died for us and rose with us."109 The destitute are "blessed and most dear to God" regardless of their awareness of God: Those who have nothing at all, but are destitute [ept)u.oi] and beggars [iietauca] for their daily bread, the poor [irooxoi] dispersed on the streets, who know not God and God's righteousness, simply on account of their extreme want and destitution of subsistence, and lack of even the smallest things, were most blessed and most dear to God, and sole possessors of everlasting life.110

Thus, for Clement, involuntary poverty carries a spiritual value in which voluntary destitution cannot participate. While the involuntary poor belong to the leitourgia — public service by the rich — those who are poor, Clement warns, risk a difficult struggle with internal desires mat can prevent them from attaining a perfect knowledge of God. Clement's views suggest a teetering duality of attitudes about the involuntary poor: They are in the kingdom unconditionally — unless they are undeserving or unrighteous (although they should still receive assistance). Their state is holy —although it is sinful to put oneself in their shoes and be similarly in need.111 The destitute who struggle with passions are not by this necessarily excluded from the kingdom —although, he suggests, the "wretched" and "carnal" poor may be, after all. This same sort of "waffling" occurs, to varying degrees, in all interactions with involuntary poverty in the ancient world, but few authors seem this comfortable expressing diverse views simultaneously. Clement's ardent if ambiguous defense of the beggars around him suggests a real awareness of them, their diversity, and their human misery. In advocating that wealth is necessary to effectively serve one's neighbor and community, Clement echoes the ideals of the Graeco-Roman leitourgia, although he does not generally express his attitude toward the poor in civic terms. Rather, his argument is usually biblical, consonant particularly with the views of poverty found in the synoptic gospels. It is not surprising, therefore, that Clement uses the term leitourgia throughout his works to consistently reflect an emphasis on Christian "ministry" rather than on public service and civic obligation. He refers to leitourgia thirteen times in the Stromateis, with several nuances: the divine service of celibacy,112 celestial servants such as angels, demons, and natural forces,113 Paul's ministry,114

109. Clem., Q.d.s. 33, trans. Wilson, ANF 2.600-601. no. Ibid. 11, trans. Wilson, ANF 2.594. in. Reminiscent of a similar view about eunuchs in early Christianity, whose degendered state was acceptable only if it was either a natural debility or had been done to them by forces over which they had no control. While voluntary poverty quickly became a monastic ideal, voluntary castration was consistently proscribed. 112. Clem., Str. 3.12.79.5; 3.12.82.6. 113. Ibid. 5.6.36.4; 6.3.31.5; 6.17.157.4; 7.3.17.2-3; 8.9.33.3-4. 114. Ibid. 7.17.106.4.

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forms of purification ritual,115 hierarchies of divine service attaining to salvation,116 and the good deeds of the perfect gnostic.117 This last reference is the only one which clearly implies community activities but it is still general. His use of leitourgia outside the Stromateis reflects a similar and similarly general focus on Christian ministry,118 although certainly within the broader framework of Graeco-Roman culture and civic obligation in which Clement lived. Redemptive Almsgiving In most early Christian texts, the poor exist primarily as a passive tool for redemptive almsgiving, a signifier by which the Christian donor may gain honor and divine reward. Relieving destitution is not usually defined in terms which recognize the recipients as fellow bodies in a divinely created material world of equals in the sight of God, as Gregory of Nyssa would later suggest. Almsgiving is regarded early as a redemptive leitourgia.119 Through this image the social value of the destitute poor is defined largely in terms of the afterlife. Of early Christian texts, this is particularly evident in Cyprian's essay De opere eleemosynis, which is entirely about redemptive alms. Although the treatise was delivered during plague and acute destitution in Carthage around 252-254, Cyprian attends wholly to the donor and the salvation of the donor. The recipients of alms are essentially symbols, their bodies representing holy containers by which the donor may be lifted up to God. The poor are thus rendered with a profound, if inert, liturgical identity. By the fourth century this liturgical imagery rules virtually all Christian texts on poverty, voluntary or involuntary, including monastic texts. The life of Pachomius illustrates the developing distinction — and dependent interaction — between the voluntary and involuntary poor in civic and religious life. Pachomius's conversion was prompted by an act of Christian charity. Around 312, when he was 20, Pachomius was press-ganged into Constantine's army. The recruits were imprisoned to keep them from running away, and their state was pitiable. One day "some merciful Christians" brought the prisoners food, drink, and physical necessities. When Pachomius, the pagan, asked who Christians were, he was told of their worship and that "Christians were merciful to everyone, including strangers."120 This experience induced his conversion, and alms became a regular part of Pachomius's cenobitic ascesis. He and his teacher, Palamon, "toiled not for themselves

115. Ibid. 7.9.56.4 and 7.10.57.2. 116. Ibid. 4.6.37.1-2 and 7.2.10.2. 117. Ibid. 7.3.13.2. 118. Clem., Paed 2.4.41.,4; Exc. Theod. 11.4 and 27.2; Q.d.s. 16.3. 119. For a detailed study, see Garrison, Redemptive Almsgiving in the Early Church; also Countryman, The Rich Christian in the Church of the Early Empire. 120. Vita Prime Graeca 4, trans, and ed. Apostolos N. Athanassakis, The Life of Pachomius (Vita Prima Graeca), Texts and Translations 7, Early Christian Literature Series 2 (Missoula, Mont.: Scholar's Press, 1975), 7. See also Armand Vielleux, ed. and trans., Pachomian Koinonia I: The Life of Saint Pachomius, Cistercian Studies Series 45 (Kalamazoo, Mich.: Cistercian Publications, 1980).

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121

but they remembered the poor, as the apostle says," even to the extent of furthering their own destitution. On one occasion, "because they gave whatever they had to charities it once happened that they had no bread."122 While Pachomius planned to sell two bed mats for grain, a stranger with a shipload of wheat knocked at the door and told them: "I had promised for my salvation to give wheat to those working in the mines,123 but I was instructed in my sleep that you needed it and to bring it to you since you are men of God." Pachomius answered, "We do need the wheat, but give us a fixed date to return it." The wheat was then taken from the boat and the brothers marveled at how, all of a sudden, God had helped them because of his servant.124

This is a story about redemptive almsgiving; the donor had intended to give it to the destitute in the mines "for my salvation." The monk —the voluntary poor, and in severe need — is unwilling to take it as a gift, but will accept it as a loan to be returned at a set date. Pachomius thus establishes himself as a social equal with the donor, becoming an active participant in any subsequent choice the donor may make to give the (returned) wheat to those for whom it was originally intended. The involuntary poor in this story, as in the larger cultural setting, begin outside the liturgical community. The donor must first choose between giving the wheat to those who are "men of God" or to those involuntary poor who, by implication, are not "men of God." Through Pachomius's insistence that the gift be merely a loan to the monastery, there is the possibility of meeting both needs — monastic hunger and involuntary destitution. Even if the returned wheat was not given away again, it remains a symbol of the reward and blessing that follow when one gives generously with consideration to one's salvation and to those "of God." The monastic repayment of the wheat would transform it into an image of justice, whether it returns to the original donor or is "returned" to those for whom it was originally vowed. Either way the donation functions "liturgically" as a means of salvation for both of the donors and as leitourgia in terms of the social effects it may have on the community. The (Present) Poor in the Imperial and Episcopal Leitourgia of Late Antiquity Fourth-century food patronage to the poor — as leitourgia — is especially illustrated by two laws of Constantine, the examples of Julian and Valentinian, and the acts of various bishops faced with social and environmental crises. Several of these examples help to depict in a general way the broader context for the Cappadocian poverty sermons.

121. Vita Prima Graeca 1.6, trans. Veilleux, 1.302. 122. Ibid. 1.39, trans. Veilleux, 1.324. 123. Athanassakis translates this, "When I was in the mines I made a vow of wheat for my salvation. .. ." The full phrase is, ZITOV 67tayyeiX,du,evo<; el; TG ixeraM-a mep ir\qCTO)tr|pia<;|a.ou. . . (Athanassakis, The Life of Pachomius, 56-57). 124. Vita Prima Craeca 1.39, trans. Veilleux, 1.324-25.

56 The Hungry Are Dying

Imperial relief of civic destitution generally operated only in times of crisis, such as earthquakes, and granted assistance to collective groups, such as entire cities, usually in terms of tax remission or subsidized grain. Two laws of Constantine12' seem to be the earliest Roman laws that assure food to individuals as individuals simply on the basis of their need. The first, dated 315 and 329 c.E., 126 ruled that an imperial officer issue provisions immediately to all parents throughout all the municipalities of Italy who would, without adequate food assistance for their newborns, kill them. Assistance must be provided immediately upon request "since the rearing of a newborn infant will not allow any delay." Assistance was to come from "Our fisc and Our privy purse .. . without distinction." This law seems to be intended to prevent infanticide in Italy; it does not mention exposure. A second law, dated July 6, 322, aims to stop the sale of children of indigent provincials in Africa, possibly a natural consequence of exposure: "The proconsuls and governors and fiscal representatives throughout all Africa . . . shall bestow freely the necessary support on all persons whom they observe to be placed in dire need and from the State storehouses they shall immediately assign adequate sustenance."127 The first law left it up to the parents to make formal appeal for assistance. In the law for Africa, however, it is the government's responsibility to identify the needy families. This distinction may reflect the difference between the private and public nature of the children's fate: infanticide, being a private act in the ancient world, would come to a legislator's attention only if the parents sought an alternative. Sale into slavery, on the other hand, was by nature a public participation in the market economy, permitting public investigation and intervention. It is not clear from the legal text why Constantine chose to intervene in what were essentially "normative" practices in the ancient world. Neither law explicitly identifies religious or moral motivation to prevent poverty, infanticide, or child abandonment. Nor does either law suggest any particular environmental or political crisis behind each imperial fiat. The only motive that the two laws seem to share is a particular compassion for those at risk in the social order. The goal of the Italian law is that "the hands of parents may be restrained from parricide and their hopes turned to the better." The African law similarly assumes a moral commitment to justice and the prevention of "a shameful deed": "For it is at variance with Our character that We should allow any person to be destroyed by hunger or to break forth to the commission of a shameful deed." In these two laws one may see the leitourgia of imperial patronage here adopting a new form and new means to further public order and maintain certain moral standards. Whatever his reasons, with Constantine's legislation the poor — qua poor —enter the legal leitourgia of the state for the first time. The emperor Julian may be the first pagan to explicitly argue that physical care for the poor —as an act of piety —was really an ancient pagan ideal. He does this in his often-cited admonitions to Arsacius, the high priest of Galatia. Although the passage is well known, it is important enough to be quoted here in full:

125. CT 11.27.1-2, discussed below. 126. CT 11.27.1, trans. Pharr, Theodosian Code, 318. 127. CT 11.27.2, trans. Pharr, Theodosian Code, 318; my emphasis.

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Teach those of the Hellenic faith to contribute to public service [A-eiTOVpyia] of this sort, and the Hellenic villages to offer their first fruits to the gods; and accustom those who love the Hellenic religion to these good works [ewcouci] by teaching them that this was our practice of old. Let us not, by allowing others to outdo us in good works, disgrace or utterly abandon the reverence [euXdpeia] due to the gods. At any rate, Homer makes Eumaeus say, 'Stranger, it is not lawful for me, / Not even though a baser man than you should come, / To dishonor a stranger [^etvov (murjaai] / For from Zeus come all strangers and beggars [£e!vot ie TTOOXOI te] / A gift, though small, is precious [<|>i,Xr|]."128 The Odyssean text was important to Julian; he quotes the last two lines again in another letter to a priest, also in the context of advocating philanthropy for the poor.129 In his understanding of leitourgia, Julian here returns to the ancient pagan image in which there is an inseparable coupling of social and religious meaning: to perform leitourgia was simultaneously to care for the bodily needs of the community and to reverence the gods. However, as the history of Graeco-Roman views of the poor suggests, Julian's interpretation of leitourgia practiced as philanthropy to the poorm is, despite his Homeric argument, not typical of the classical use of the word or its application.131 The fact remains that even in the fourth century, the GraecoRoman concept of philanthropy as such did not readily consider poverty as a special category. For example, in the three treatises on "philanthropy" by the pagan philosopher Themistius, whose works profoundly influenced Julian, there is virtually no discussion of material poverty at all. Only in his oration to Theodosius I, the most adamantly "Christianizing" of the emperors he addressed, does Themistius even mention the word penes, once in connection with famine (zzyb) and once in contrast with wealth (z29b).132 Although leitourgia in the ancient Greek temple might consider the god's concern for those who were physically destitute,133 and certainly the Greeks appealed to the gods for help in times of material or natural disasters, there is no doubt that Christianity, not paganism, formed Julian's earliest concepts of the poor and relief efforts. His injunction to religious almsgiving seems to be directly influenced by his Christian background, albeit reformulated using Greek texts to which he now gave new and special emphasis.

128. Julian, Ep. 22; 4300-318, The Works of the Emperor Julian, ed. and trans. W. C. Wright, LCL (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1913-23), 3.70-71, citing Odyssey 14.56. 129. Julian, Fragm. Ep. 2916, trans. Wright, 2.304-5. 130. For his extensive discussion of this, see Julian, Fragm. Ep. 28gA-92D. 131. For the argument that Julian's philanthropic ideals were substantially modeled on non-Christian philosophers, see Jiirgen Kabiersch, Untersuchungen zum Begriff der Philanthropia bei dem Kaiser Julian, Klassisch-Philologische Studien, 21 (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1960). 132. For the Greek of Themistius's Or. 1.6 and 19, see H. SchenkI and G. Downey, eds., Themistii Orationes Quae Supersunt I, Academia Scientiarum Germanica Berolinensis (Leipzig: Teubner, 1965), 1.3-26,105-26, and 327-39. 133. Athenaeus, for example, refers to an ancient Spartan riddle that is solved only by acquaintance with a certain temple to Apollo in which there was "beside Apollo's throne,... A painted representation (ypaf|<; cmoneiiinrinevo^) of Famine in the likeness of a woman." Ath. 10.452^ trans. Charles Burton Gulick, Athenaeus, LCL (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1930), 4.548-49.

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Imperial provision of food to those who were starving usually occurred only in the context of famine., i.e., widespread crisis threatening the social order. The usual imperial response to famine was tax remission and subsidized grain prices, which were granted to all the citizens of the suffering cities. Julian supplied Antioch with subsidized wheat during a famine in the winter of 361-62, when he found the rich hoarding grain. The price of wheat varied by city, depending in part on access to the sea (the cheapest method of transport) and on local supplies.134 Julian indicates that the usual price of grain in Antioch was 10 modii of wheat for a silver piece; the market price Julian found at Antioch during the famine was at least double, though his text suggests that grain was hard to get at any price. Julian cut the cost 66 percent, purchasing Egyptian grain at 15 modii per silver piece, and made a point of his generosity in his letter to the Antiochenes: "Even in prosperity you don't get 15 measures for [even] a gold piece!135 Africa also suffered acutely from food shortage in 368 C.E., the year of the Cappadocian famine. Hymetius, the proconsul at Carthage, was responsible that year for the grain shipment to Rome. Ammianus describes Hymetius as a just man of "distinguished character," and the story of his downfall illustrates how imperial power, in this case that of Valentinian, might use the public provision of grain to political ends unrelated to immediate human need. Faced with the acute starvation of the populace, Hymetius opened the Roman horrea, the storehouses of North African wheat designed specifically for Rome, and sold Roman grain stores to the Carthaginians at famine prices. Ammianus gives the price: a gold piece (solidus) bought 10 modii of wheat.136 When the famine was over, Hymetius bought wheat to replace the Roman stores at the price of 30 modii per gold piece and sent the emperor his (significant) profits. Hymetius's action was not illegal. Constantine's law of 322 was presumably still in effect, permitting that food and provisions be supplied to populations in Africa who were suffering from hunger.137 Hymetius's choice to sell rather than donate could only benefit the imperial coffers. But Valentinian, "suspecting that he had sent

134. For variations in the price of grain, see, e.g., Digesta 13.4-3; Cic., Verr. 2.3.; Plin., HN 33.164; Cicero illustrates the range in prices that could exist in even the same city at different times of a nonfamine year: in Sicily one could buy a modius of wheat for 20 sesterces before the harvest, but after the harvest the price dropped to 2-3 sesterces (Cic., Verr. 2.3.214). In describing the late first century C.E. famine at Prusa, Dio Chrysostom notes that his city's grain prices were normally lower than those of other cities (Or. 46.10) . For further discussion on grain prices, see Duncan-Jones, The Economy of the Roman Empire, 50-51,145-46, 252-53, 345-47. Duncan-Jones's data are limited to Italy and Egypt and extend only through the mid third century. A modius of wheat was a bushel measure that weighed approximately 6 to 7 kg, or 20 Ib (Duncan-Jones, The Economy of the Roman Empire, 370). By the time of Diocletian, the price of wheat was 67 times what it had been under Augustus. 135. Julian, Misopogon 3690, trans. Wright, 2.506-7. 136. It is difficult to compare this rate with Julian's subsidies to Antioch six years earlier. Julian's prices are in silver and his one reference to a gold coin is an indignant exclamation. Even if this comment indicates "real" prices, one would expect wheat to be significantly cheaper in Africa, Rome's "breadbasket" in both the best and the worst of times. 137. CT 11.27, discussed earlier. See also Emin Tengstrom, Bread for the People: Studies of the CornSupply of Rome During the Late Empire (Stockholm: Paul stroms, 1974), 26.

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less than he should have sent as the result of his trafficking, punished him with a fine of a part of his property."138 Further enraged at hearing that Hymetius went to a soothsayer for secret divine appeal to soften the emperor's wrath, Valentinian arrested Hymetius and sought to have him legally executed; the Senate saved his life by exiling him to Britain. The story of Hymetius illustrates a civic official directly representing the imperial patronage of the emperor, yet in this case without that emperor's approval. While the emperor was the supreme patron of his own city, and Valentinian thus the ultimate tropheus for Rome, there is no suggestion that the Roman shipments suffered by Hymetius's action. Nor does the text in any way censure Hymetius for exploiting the physical distress of the "indigent" famine victims to make a profit from the grain. Indeed, Ammianus defends Hymetius and tells the story to illustrate Valentinian's cruelty and paranoia. Unconcerned with these political nuances, the poor for whom Hymetius put grain on the market participated in this leitourgia at famine prices. Their participation, however, did not lead to civic order but rather enabled ongoing political corruption at the imperial level. The destitute may have "entered" this leitourgia (if they could afford it) out of extreme need, but they were ultimately the losers for it. Despite Valentinian's official loyalty to Christianity, the story of Hymetius fits the ancient Roman model — of patronage and liturgy motivated by public honor and profit for the patron, in this case the emperor — rather than the emerging Christian model. This incident occurred at the same time that Basil was relieving the indigent victims of famine in Cappadocia with free grain, medical care, and sermons that ardently advocated mercy and justice. The entrance of the poor into the leitourgia of the church did not necessarily follow nor immediately reform the state of affairs in public politics. While Hymetius practiced what his culture recognized as pious euergetism — making grain available in crisis — he did it as a fiscally profitable transaction, while Christians such as Pachomius, Ephrem, and Basil did not. The law, however, was not above using clerical differences to fund poverty assistance. In North Africa in 369, the bishop Chronopius was deposed by 70 bishops for some nowunknown offense. His legal appeal to the proconsul, Claudius, was denied and he was fined 50 pounds of silver, all of which was to go to the poor (CT 11.36.20). As the poor entered the civic leitourgia in the Christian era, they also entered the rhetoric relating to it. The poor, laborers, and illiterate had, up until now, been beneath the notice of the elite, who prided themselves on their eminence in rhetoric. The different aims of Christian rhetoric mandated different topics. Scriptural exegesis, for example, might be delivered according to rhetorical convention but it now demanded attention to new social details. Social crises might push Christian homilists and rhetors to scour the classical texts for relevant models for their new material, but these must now be revised in light of the different social emphases of the later age. The Cappadocians, John Chrysostom, Ambrose, and Augustine are among those who began to use classical rhetoric to approach social issues in particular Christian ways.

138. Amm. Marc. 28.1.17-18, trans. J. C. Rolfe, Ammianus Marcellinus, LCL (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1939), 3-99-

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The entrance of the poor into Christian leitourgia is evident in many fburthand early-fifth-century accounts of bishops responding to crises. Spyridon, bishop of Trimythun in Cyprus early in the fourth century, made a storehouse available to the poor on the honor system: those in need took at will and returned their loans unsupervised. If the system failed —and Spyridon could attest when it did —God inevitably found the sinners out: the storehouse appeared empty on their second visit for grain.139 In the late 3605, Ephrem became the steward of funds to provide for victims of famine in Edessa. As soon as the rich gave him their supply, he "had about three hundred beds fitted up in the public porches and here he tended those that were ill and suffering from the effects of the famine, whether they were foreigners or natives of the surrounding country."140 Around the same time Marathonius, an antihomoousian deacon at Constantinople, was "zealous superintendent of the poor of the monastical dwellings inhabited by men and women."141 One of Cyril's several depositions from the see of Jerusalem in the fourth century was delivered apparently because he had sold "the veil and sacred ornaments of the church" to buy food for famine victims. He was found out only when a Christian donor recognized the fabric of his donation to the altar as part of an actress's costume.142 This sale of church plate, jewels, and altar cloths to benefit the poor became a standard, if controversial, practice in the fifth and sixth centuries, usually with the opposition coming from original donors or clerics and bishop-aspirants who wished to keep the church's fiscal wealth on the altars. The poor thus competed with the traditional image of the altar, the symbolic instrument for and place of Christian liturgical practice. Early in the fifth century, Acacius, bishop of Amida, convinced his clergy to sell the altar vessels to redeem seven thousand Persian prisoners who had been taken by the Romans in their attack on Azazene. The prisoners were dying of starvation. Acacius not only ransomed the prisoners but also then fed them "for some time" and eventually sent them back to Persia.143 In the West, Ambrose, too, sold church plate to relieve human misery of captives.144 The life of Rabbula of Edessa in fifth-century Syria characterizes on a monumental scale this episcopal commitment to adorn the church with the poor by stripping it of its material ornaments.145

139. Soz., HE 1.11. 140. Soz., HE 3.16; Unless otherwise noted, translations from Sozomen and Socrates are those of NPNF 2 2. Palladius tells a similar story about Ephrem in H. Laus. 40. Palladius is alone in depicting Ephrem as solitary and living in a monastic cell; the rest of the tradition about him roots him firmly in the midst of active church administration; see Sidney H. Griffith, "Images of Ephraem: The Syrian Holy Man and His Church," Traditio 45 (1989-90), 7-33 and idem, "Ephraem, the Deacon of Edessa, and the Church of the Empire," in Diakonia: Studies in Honor of Robert T. Meyer, ed. Thomas Halton and Joseph P. Williman (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1986), 22-52. None of Ephrem's surviving texts to my knowledge supplies any further evidence of his activities in famine relief. 141. Soz., HE 4.20, English trans. C. D. Hartranft, NPNF 2 2.315. 142. Soz., HE 4.25, trans. Hartranft, NPNF 2 2.321. Presumably by attending her performance? 143. Soc., HE 7.21, trans. A. C. Zenos, NPNF2 2.164. 144. Ambr., Off. 2.70; Bude 2.40-41; cf. Off. 2.136-39. 145. P. Bedjan, Acta Martyrum et Sanctorum, (1894; reprint Hildesheim: Olms, 1968), 4.410—11; for discussion see Susan Ashbrook Harvey, "The Holy and the Poor: Models from Early Syriac Christianity" in Through the Eye of a Needle: Judeo-Christian Roots of Social Welfare, ed. Emily Albu Hanawalt and Carter Lindberg (Kirksville, Mo.: Thomas Jefferson University Press, 1994), 43-66.

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Not only did some clergy boldly strip church altars to reconstruct the poor as holy vessels; Palladius's story of Macarius and the rich virgin suggests that they were not above boldly deceiving church members as well. There was in Alexandria, he says, a rich and miserly virgin who, despite ecclesiastic rebukes, gave nothing to anyone. The priest Macarius, in order "to tap a vein . . . to alleviate her greed," offered to sell her "some precious stones, emeralds, and hyacinths" at a bargain price of five hundred coins, with surplus profit guaranteed. She fell for it and paid him eagerly. Macarius, a former gem engraver who now supervised "the poorhouse for cripples," spent the money on the needs of these poor. When the miser146 begged to see what she had bought, "[h]e took her to the upper floor [of the hospital], pointed out the crippled and inflamed women, and said 'Look, here are your hyacinths!' And he led her [to the men housed on the ground floor and said] 'Behold your emeralds! If they do not please you, take your money back!'"147 Palladius says that, although the miser immediately took off in huff, then became ill from grief, she later "gave thanks to God." The poor here spiritually benefit the miser, whether she wishes it or not. However, they function in this way not merely because they are poor, valuable to God, who are here receiving Christian mercy, but rather as they have become liturgical ornaments, "precious stones" used by the priest as part of the duties of his office. The interaction of all three parties — priest, miser, and crippled poor —works together to profit the entire community of believers. John Chrysostom's role in giving liturgical meaning to the involuntary poor can be outlined here only very briefly. Since Chrysostom and Basil were both influenced by Antiochene and Armenian monasticism, Chrysostom's views may suggest the Cappadocian model as well. Chrysostom, whose episcopal role was always secondary to his monastic concerns, mentions the indigent poor constantly in his sermons, and this focus is found as well in the writings of Palladius, his biographer. In fact, Palladius suggests that the trouble between Theophilus and Chrysostom, which eventually led to Chrysostom's exile from Constantinople and indirectly to his death, really began with Bishop Theophilus's lack of concern for the poor in Alexandria. It is no surprise that Palladius, faithful to Chrysostom, might depict Theophilus as unflatteringly as possible, but his details nonetheless reflect the liturgical concern for the poor. The trouble began, Palladius recounts, with an octogenarian priest, Isidore, who used a pious noblewoman's designated donation to the church in the manner she wished it to be used — but without Theophilus's knowledge. The woman wished that her money be used to buy clothing for the poor women of Alexandria. Isidore complied; both Isidore and the woman "knew" that Theophilus would have directed the funds instead to "stones," adorning the church with inanimate treasure, architectural modifications and additions, and decorations. When Theophilus learned what Isidore had done, he sought to expel him from the church. Isidore fled to the monks at

146. Although it is probably assumed, there is no clear evidence in the text that the woman's virginity was a religious choice. Therefore I refer to her in the discussion simply as a miser. 147. Palladius, H. Laus.6.q, trans. Robert T. Meyer, Palladius: The Lausiac History, Ancient Christian Writers (New York: Newman Press, 1964), 37—40.

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Nitria. Theophilus's subsequent attack on these monks, accusing them of Origenist heresy, was, Palladius suggests, fueled wholly by this rage at their support for Isidore.148 Isidore justified his use of the alms, saying "it was better to restore the bodies of the sick which are more prbperly temples of God than to build walls."149 The bodies of the poor had by this time entered the Christian leitourgia, but they competed fiercely with liturgical forms, in this case quite literally: the form of women's clothing (and possibly medical care) competed with the form of church architecture. Chrysostom's sermons also suggest the economic exchange of church treasure for poverty relief at a deep symbolic level. In this exchange the poor became identified not only as "temples of God" but in fact became church treasure itself, instruments by which divine body and salvation might be carried between God and members of the church, reminiscent of their redemptive role in Cyprian's treatise but far more visible, with a much greater nuance to their presence. Their image is now, two centuries after Cyprian, strengthened in part by the vivid liturgical symbols of the altar in late antiquity. The poor become the liturgical image for these most holy elements in all of Christian worship: the altar and the body of Christ. Chrysostom in fact explicitly identifies the poor as altar, both divine and divinely constituted, in his Homilia 20.3 in Epistulam 2 ad Corinthios. This passage vividly suggests the traditional Graeco-Roman sacrifice involved in civic leitourgia: Do you wish to see his altar? . . . This altar is composed of the very members of Christ, and the body of the Lord becomes your altar . . . venerable because it is itself Christ's body. . . . This altar you can see lying everywhere, in the alleys and in the agoras and you can sacrifice upon it anytime . . . invoke the spirit not with words, but with deeds. Nothing kindles and sustains the fire of the Spirit as effectively as this oil poured out with liberality. 150 . . . When you see a poor believer, believe that you are looking at an altar; when you see this one as a beggar, don't simply refrain from insulting him but actually give him honor; and if you witness someone else insulting him, stop them, prevent it. Thus God himself will be good to you, and you will obtain the promised good things.151

The divine altar of the poor body is here, like the civic duty, out in public, "in alleys" and "in the agoras." By the sacrifice of good deeds upon this altar, God's body, the early Christian texts argued, is served in the community, with the usual honor and glory expected from civic euergetism. In the Graeco-Roman world prior to Christianity, the destitute and homeless had been outside the leitourgia, perhaps not deliberately excluded but certainly conceptually unrelated to it, visible only at the fringes. Through the reworking of civic imagery into Christian discourse, the poor have become a discrete group who have entered, become, and now symbolize the liturgy in all its nuances in the Christian world of late antiquity.

148. Pall, Dial. 6. 149. Soz., HE 8.12, trans. Hartranft, NPNF2 2.176-77, and fn. 233. 150. Chrys., Horn. 20.3 in Ep 2 ad Cor., trans. M. J. De Vinne, "The Advocacy of Empty Bellies," (Ph.D. dissertation, Stanford University, 1995), 82-83, anc' n-lo8- F°r the complete text of this sermon in an earlier translation, see NPNF 1 12.372—74. 151. Chrys., Horn. 20.3 in Ep 2 ad Cor., my trans.

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Conclusion Let us now return to the story of Sisinius and the hungry woman with which this chapter began. When the story opens, Sisinius is practicing his monastic service, or office of chanting, singing, and prayers, acts commonly viewed, then and now, as Christian "liturgy." The woman's appearance in the cave is depicted as potential competition to the monk's ritual discipline and a challenge to his religious celibacy. The woman competes with his liturgy as she appeals to him for material aid, offering him her only marketable asset: her body. While she fails to disturb Sisinius's liturgy, that is, his prayer ritual, she succeeds in entering into his leitourgia, his moral obligation as a religious leader to provide civic, community, or public service at his own expense. Sisinius, the bishop who had left his see to become an anchoritic monk, subsequently fulfills this leitourgia in the same way that he performs his liturgy: regularly. His subsequent practice of feeding this woman daily from his own supply of food becomes an act of service or worship to God and the community: a leitourgia. In this way the woman by her need, by her very embodiedness, by her potential to call Sisinius to account should he fail her (which perhaps in the end he does), becomes a liturgical image for those who transmit the story: Abba John who hears it from Sisinius and tells John Moschos, who passes it on to his readers. The woman represents the need for justice and points to God by her participation in the monk's material expression of piety. Sisinius's response to this moral dilemma is not the usual response expected of the godly monk: the woman, who enters the text as a sexual temptation, is not expelled as a demon but is rather invited back. Indeed, the moral dilemma in this story is not sexual but civic, as the woman's body represents — to Sisinius —the physical needs of the community to which he has a moral duty. The end of the story, "I fed her until I left those parts," emphasizes his faithfulness in performing this leitourgia. However, the monk is sufficiently a liturgist of the living God that he is neither distracted from his worship by the woman nor tied to her material needs when called away, and the woman's daily need for food seems, like the reader's curiosity about her, suddenly unsatisfied at the end of the story. Nevertheless, her model, as a type by which bishops and even impoverished monks may serve God, stands as a moral injunction to the reader precisely because of the essential participation of her poverty in the liturgical image of the Christian text.

2

Hunger Famine, Relief, and Identity in Basil's Cappadocia

For the first time [the peasant woman] rebelled against her belief in divine Providence. There was no God for her or the other poor people, who were starving to death. God belonged to the rich, among whom there was no hunger and no understanding of hunger. To be afflicted with hunger was considered, in the world of the rich, a crime which placed the sufferers outside the bounds of humanity. . . . She felt ravenously hungry. .. . She must fill the emptiness within her in order to prevent the rich from discovering that she was hungry. Liam O'Flaherty The hungry are dying. Basil of Caesarea

Famine and Food Shortage "Food has a constant tendency to transform itself into situation," wrote Roland Barthes,1 and this is true as well of food shortage and famine. Hunger, by which I here mean an acutely perceived need for literal food,2 determines bodily processes perhaps more than any other characteristic of poverty. Further, hunger may shape not only the physical body of starving individuals but also the interactive dynamics of the starving group in the larger social body of the community. The role of religion in famine dynamics is rarely straightforward and always closely tied to other power

1. Roland Barthes, "Toward a Psychology of Contemporary Food Consumption," in Food and Drink in History: Selections from the Annales, ed. Robert Forster and Orest Ranum (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1979), 172. 2. The distinction between hunger as desire vs. hunger as a physical need is not relevant to famine hunger in Basil's text. Basil speaks metaphorically of "hunger" as an inappropriate desire only when he addresses the greedy rich. The hunger experienced by the poor is always represented as a legitimate need that deserves fulfillment. 64

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dynamics.? Further, the hunger-religion-power interaction operates at many levels, only some of them visible and measurable. Basil may look around him and observe that "the hungry are dying,"4 but the personal shame, apostacy, and sense of dehumanization that is experienced by the dying themselves may be captured only by the more intimate narratives, such as O'Flaherty's novel of nineteenth-century Ireland 5 or the diaries of those being actively starved during World War II, discussed later in this chapter. Gregory of Nazianzus called the Cappadocian famine of 368 "the most severe ever remembered,6 and Basil's situational response to it is well known in the religious history of social welfare. Gregory of Nazianzus relates the best-known version of the story: There was a famine, the most severe one ever recorded. The city was in distress and there was no source of assistance. . . . The hardest part of all such distress is the insensibility and insatiability of those who possess supplies. . . . Such are the buyers and sellers of corn. . . . B u t . . . by his word and advice [Basil] opened the stores of those who possessed them, and so, according to the Scripture, dealt food to the hungry and satisfied the poor with bread. . . . And in what way? . . . He gathered together the victims of the famine with some who were but slightly recovering from it, men and women, infants, old men, . . . and obtaining contributions of all sorts of food which can relieve famine, set before them basins of soup and such meat as was found preserved among us, on which the poor live. Then, imitating the ministry of C h r i s t . . . he attended to the bodies and souls of those who needed it, combining personal respect with the supply of their necessity, and so giving them a double relief. Such was our young furnisher of corn, and second Joseph . . . [But unlike Joseph, Basil's] services were gratuitous and his succour of the famine gained no profit, having only one object, to win kindly feelings by kindly treatment, and to gain by his rations of corn the heavenly blessings. Further he provided the nourishment of the Word. . . .7

Gregory of Nyssa tells a similar story. In a defense of Basil in light of Eunomius's attack on his brother, Gregory asserted that Basil "ungrudgingly spent upon the poor his patrimony even before he was a priest, and most of all in the time of the famine,

3. For example, Eugene Hynes explores this in his study "The Great Hunger and Irish Catholicism," Societas 8 (1978): 137-56. In discussing the Irish famine of the 18403, Hynes uses "great hunger" doubly, both to mean the actual potato famine and metaphorically the greed for land that followed the mass exodus and mortality of the lower classes whose survival depended solely on the potato crop. Hynes argues that the significant increase in the number of practicing Catholics after the famine had nothing to do with a change in beliefs but was purely a reflection of the shift in the Irish population; the peasants who died or fled, he argues, were usually not practicing Catholics, while the farmers who survived and prospered from the devastation were and always had been practicing Catholics. While his depiction of the shamanistic practices of the peasants does not prove that they did not believe themselves to be Catholics, his point is that the famine did not result in a significant long-term change in religious responsiveness, as some believed. 4. Basil, Horn. 6.6; PG 31.273D-276A; lit., "The hungry are wasting away." 5. Liam O'Flaherty, Famine: A Novel (1937; reprint, Boston: David R. Godine, 1982). The first epigraph to this chapter is from pp. 420-1. 6. GNaz, Or. 43.34; PG 36.5410. 7. GNaz, Or. 43.34-36, trans. C. G. Browne and J. E. Swallow, NPNF2 7.406-8; PG 36.5416-5458.

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during which he was a ruler of the Church, though still a priest in the rank of presbyters; and afterwards did not hoard even what remained to him. . . ,"8 While Nazianzen identified Basil with Joseph, the administrator, Nyssen constructs his role as that of the prophet, "Our Elijah": When a catastrophe once threatened . . . and all the wintry season had passed by dry and no hope appeared for crops, then our teacher, having prostrated himself before God, checked their fear just at the threat, having propitiated the Divinity with supplications and thorough prayers having ended the dejection caused by the drought. But something like the relief from the famine which the great Elijah furnished in the case of one widow does our age also show in the case of our teacher. For when on a certain occasion a severe famine afflicted both the very city in which he happened to be living and all the land which was tributary to the city, selling his possessions and having changed the money into food, when it was rare even for those who were very well supplied to prepare a meal for themselves, he continued during the whole period of the famine to support both those who came together from all sides and the youths of every deme of the city; so that truly he even afforded the enjoyment of this benefaction equally to the children of the Jews.9

That which is less examined in the story of Basil's appeal to the rich and his establishment of a hospital complex is his construction of the bodies of the poor themselves. The first part of this chapter locates the famine in its social context—as it relates to hunger and famine in general in the ancient world, and in fourth-century Cappadocia in particular. The second part of the chapter explores the way Basil constructs this "hungry" body in his Homilia dicta tempore famis et siccitatis (Horn. 8). Then I consider how these texts suggest a common social pattern recognized by anthropologists in modern studies of famine starvation. The third and final part of the chapter explores the relationship between Basil's famine response and the way the social dynamics of starvation define the starving society itself, and its members. Chapter 3 explores the rhetorical and civic context in which Basil places the poor when they are defined by simple economics, in his Homilies 6, 7 and the so-called Second Homily on Psalm 14, or HPsi^b. Famine as Politics Economist Amartya Sen characterizes famine as a characteristic of some people not having enough food; it is not a characteristic of there being not enough food. While the latter can be a cause of the former, it is one of many possible causes, and indeed may or may not be associated with famines. Food supply statements say things about commodities as such, while statements about famines are concerned with the relationship between persons and commodities. To understand famines, we need to go into this relationship.10

8. GNys, Eun. 1.10, trans. W. Moore, NPNF2 5.45-46. 9. GNys, In laudem Basillii 17 (trans. Sister James Aloysius Stein, Encomium of Saint Gregory, Bishop ofNyssa, on His Brother Saint Basil, Archbishop ofCaesarea, Patristic Studies 17 (Washington: Catholic University of America, 1928), 37-39). 10. Amartya Sen, "Famines," World Development 8 (1980): 614; emphases are Sen's.

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These disordered relationships conducive to famine include human and environmental factors that affect the harvest (weather, pest infestation, blight, land security, harvesting methods), those that affect food distribution (war, natural disasters, transportation failures, storage decisions, political control of the markets), changes in the availability of necessities to the very poor (loss of land ownership, changes in market prices, stockpiling by the rich), and changes in patronage dynamics that may also impact the availability of goods and services to certain sectors of the population. Inevitably the poor suffer most: In a free market, bad grain harvests go hand in hand with substantial price increases. In the real experience of the poorest consumers this means that they are periodically driven off the market because they cannot afford to buy enough to feed themselves. In Keith Hopkins' terms they have to adjust to market forces by fluctuations in their own body weight."

They may subsist on products not usually used for human consumption,12 and such subsistence is a sign of crisis not only to observers but, most corporally, to the poor themselves. Famine in the Ancient World Food shortages and varying degrees of public anxiety about the food supply were endemic in the ancient world, literary images already in Odysseus's comment that "nothing is more shameless than an empty belly, which commands a man to remember it, even if he is sorely tired and pain is in his heart."13 Celsus seems to take for granted the periodic occurrence of short-term food shortages when he writes, "When from whatever causes there is prospective want of food, everything laborious should be avoided."14 There have been numerous attempts to chronicle the history of famines. In 1878 Cornelius Walford published a summary of famines in history,15 which he intended to be comprehensive but which in fact "merely scratched the surface."16 He chron-

11. Willem Jongman and Rudolf Dekker, "Public Intervention in the Food Supply in Pre-Industrial Europe," in Bad Year Economics: Cultural Responses to Risk and Uncertainty, ed. Paul Halstead and John O'Shea (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 118; quoting Keith Hopkins, "Models, Ships and Staples" in Garnsey and Whittaker, Trade and Famine in Classical Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge Philological Society, 1983, Supplement 8), 90. 12. For example, Apollonius at Aspendus "found nothing but vetch on sale in the market and the citizens were feeding on this and anything else they could get; for the rich had shut up all the grain and were holding it for export from the country." Philostr. Vita Apollonii 1.15. See also Joan M. Frayn, "Wild and Cultivated Plants: A Note on the Peasant Economy of Roman Italy," /RS 65 (1975): 32-39. 13. Horn., Od. 7.216-18, trans. P. Garnsey and I. Morris, in "Risk and the Polis: The Evolution of Institutionalised Responses to Food Supply Problems in the Ancient Greek State," in Halstead and O'Shea, Bad Year Economics, 98. 14. Celsus, Med. 1.2.10, trans. W. G. Spencer, Celsus De Medicina i, LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1935), 51. 15. Cornelius Walford, "The Famines of the World: Past and Present," /. Statistical Society 41 (1878): 433-53516. Robert Dirks, "Social Responses during Severe Food Shortages and Famine, Current Anthropology 21 (1980): 22.

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icled fourth century C.E. famines in Cappadocia in 307, Antioch in 331, Syria in 336, an "awful famine" in Phrygia in 370, and the famine of 381 documented in Italy by Ambrose and Symmachus. Others later sought to improve on Walford's work with studies limited to specific regions or historical periods. In 1931 Jean Remy Palanque published a short study on fourth-century (C.E.) famine in Rome, with particular attention to political and religious intervention in the food crises between 376 and 388.17 Kenneth Gapp's unpublished 1934 Princeton dissertation examined famine in the Roman world from the founding of Rome until the time of Trajan.18 Yet in 1966 Ramsay MacMullen could still write that Rostovtzeff s 1926 call for "a full collection of the evidence about famine in the Roman Empire" was inadequately answered.19 Peter Garnsey, who has done the most extensive work to date on famine in the ancient world, has focused largely on Rome and Athens, and the quantitative textual data available for these cities makes Garnsey's work particularly valuable. Although Garnsey does not discuss Asia Minor in detail, his definitions of food shortage versus famine, and his exploration of the political and social dynamics involved in food supply and exchange in the ancient world, may be usefully applied to it. Garnsey's work also illustrates the importance of incorporating into historical studies those cross-cultural studies on famine and starvation done by modern anthropologists and economists. Famine is a universal calamity with a common set of effects and responses that may be generalized across cultures and across time. Famine causes disruption and selective deprivation within the social order regardless of the form of that social order. Garnsey has suggested that famines in the ancient world were not isolated and discrete events but rather extreme states within the context of perpetual variation in the food supply. At one end of the food shortage spectrum was food scarcity, a "shortterm reduction in the amount of available foodstuffs, as indicated by rising prices, popular discontent, and hunger, in the worst cases bordering on starvation."20 At the other end was famine, "a critical shortage of essential foodstuffs leading through hunger to starvation and substantially increased mortality in a community or region."21 Famine in Cappadocia It is not clear where the Cappadocian famine fit along this spectrum. Basil's famine sermon refers back to an extremely cold, dry winter that had been followed by an unusually hot, dry spring, and this led to catastrophic agricultural crisis as wells and 17. Jean-Remy Palanque, "Famines a Rome a la fin du IVe siecle," Revue des Etudes Anciennes 33 (1931): 346-56. 18. K. S. Gapp, "Famine in the Roman World from the Founding of Rome to the Time of Trajan," Ph.D. thesis, Princeton, 1934, cited in Peter Garnsey, "Famine in Rome," in Garnsey and Whittaker, Trade and Famine in Classical Antiquity, 63. 19. Ramsay MacMullen, Enemies of the Roman Order (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1966), 249. MacMullen devotes "Appendix A" (pp. 249-54)to a discussion of famines; he does not discuss Cappadocia. 20. Peter Garnsey, "Responses to Food Crises in the Ancient Mediterranean World," in Hunger in History: Food Shortage, Poverty, and Deprivation, ed. Lucille Newman (Cambridge, Mass.: Blackwell, 1990), 126. 21. Ibid.

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rivers dried up and crops failed. Those able to hoard grain increased their vigilance — and the market prices. Laborers began to starve. Schools closed down. The populace came to church to pray for rain. The poor who worked in the fields and wandered along the roads took on the appearance of living cadavers. Possibly the poor resorted to exposing their children, 22 or selling them, while the rich haggled with them over the purchase price. 23 Gregory of Nazianzus implied that the situation was heightened by the difficulty of importing emergency food supplies to a landlocked region.24 However, overland transport of grain was possible, if costly, and Garnsey suggests that Gregory's view of the famine is slightly exaggerated and may imply that "famine was indeed rare in Caesarea."25 The precise magnitude of the crisis is not clear. We have no idea what percentage of the population flocked to the city in hope of relief, or what percentage died of starvation. Basil wrote in the fall of 368, "The famine has not yet released us, so that it is incumbent upon me to linger on in the city, partly to attend the distribution of aid, and partly out of sympathy for the afflicted."26 We do not know where the poor came from. Famine is by nature an extended process with distinct stages. This will be discussed further below. The "famine of 368" must therefore be understood as a disaster with consequences impacting society well beyond 368. Both Nazianzen's Oration 16 and Basil's Epistle 86 suggest a level of acute anxiety about the food supply as late as 372, and both men focus much of their homiletic invective on the rich who were refusing to share or sell local grain.27 In the mid fourth century C.E., Caesarea Mazaka, the capital city of Cappadocia, was a town at a crossroads, both geographically and culturally. Renamed Caesarea when Cappadocia became a Roman province in the early first century, the city apparently had a large Christian population by the 3605, when the emperor Julian

22. Basil, Hexaemeron 8.6: "Parents who, under the plea of poverty expose their children"; trans. Blomfield Jackson, NPNF28.99. 23. Horn. 6.4; PG 31.2696. While Basil's descriptions of the poor are often quite straightforward, pointing to misery he presents as something he himself witnessed, this particular example of a father selling his children is constructed in a way that suggests it is hypothetical. Basil begins, "How can I bring their sufferings before your eyes? Consider one among them. . . . " He is more direct in HPsi4b.4 where he says "1 have seen a piteous sight: free children dragged to the marketplace to be sold because of the paternal debt . . . " (trans. Sister Agnes Clare Way, Saint Basil: Exegetic Homilies, Fathers of the Church 146 [Washington: Catholic University Press, 1963], 189). Basil disliked allegorical exegesis (Hex. 9.1), and this direct style makes it fairly clear when he is describing something he believes to be the facts and when he is creating a construct or rhetorical hyperbole. 24. GNaz, Or. 43.34: "For maritime cities are able to bear such times of need without difficulty, by an exchange of their own products for what is imported; but an inland city like ours can neither turn its superfluity to profit, nor supply its need, by either disposing of what we have or importing what we have not. . . ." Translation follows Browne and Swallow, NPNF2y.4o6; PG 36.54100— 544A. 25. Garnsey, Famine and Food Supply in the Greco-Roman World: Responses to Risk and Crisis (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 23. 26. Basil, Ep. 31 to Eusebius, bishop of Samosata, Autumn 368, trans. Roy J. Deferrari, Sf. Basil: The Letters, LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1926), 1.176-77. 27. Gregory of Nyssa, in contrast, does not blame the rich in his description of the famine; nor does he mention stockpiled grain. He says only that things were so bad that "it was rare even for those who were very well supplied to prepare a meal for themselves"; GNys, Laud. Bas. 17, trans. Stein, 39.

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confiscated all "possessions and money belonging to the churches of the city and the suburbs" and drafted the clergy into the army.28 Cappadocia was a "largely wild and mountainous"29 land-locked region, at good times rich in olives, grapes, grain, and livestock. Politically it was most important for its roads; all major routes between Constantinople and Syria went through the province and several intersected at Caesarea. Soldiers, traders, vagrants, and other travelers were constantly passing through, except during the region's infamously bad winters, when the roads were often blocked. Armies marching to and from war might — and did — commandeer the food supply of local residents. Although the soil around Caesarea itself was poor and marshy,30 grain could be stored safely in dry caverns for years." Then as now, the terrain was marked by strange, often conical outcroppings of rock, 20 to 30 feet high, many with either manmade or natural caves that later became monastic cells and churches. J. O. Barrows, a Congregational missionary in Kayseri in the i88os, noted "no less than two hundred in this neighborhood."32 Natalia Teteriatnikov has located nearly three dozen of these outcroppings, converted to Byzantine rock churches, along the modern road between Kayseri (ancient Caesarea) and Nev§ehir (ancient Nyssa), and over a dozen more between Nevfehir and Nenezi (ancient Nazianzus). 33 The Cappadocian clergy and bishops preached, wrote, and traveled in the very midst of this strange terrain. It is not unlikely that at least some fourth-century landowners stored their treasures — and stockpiled their grain — in these caves. Curiously, Barrows also describes a nineteenth-century famine in Cappadocia, using many of the same images found in Basil: The crops failed and this was followed by a winter of unparalleled severity. The people were shut up in their little villages, unable to move in any direction. Their cattle and flocks died. They subsisted, as best they could, on the flesh of dead animals. They tore down the greater portion of many of their houses, and used the wood for fuel. As soon as the spring opened, they began to try to get away. Many families kept together as long as they could, but were obliged to part with the dying at

28. Soz., HE 5.4, trans. Hartranft, NPNF2 1.329. Sozomen claims the city was "wholly Christian" but it seems unlikely that all the non-Christian "Hellenes," "Magi," and other "pagans" Basil refers to in his correspondence were new since Julian. This non-Christian group was still influential enough that Basil chastised his Christian congregation's lack of compassion for the poor with the accusation that "Hellene philanthropy puts you to shame" (Ai5ec6ff>nev 'EA^ilvwv fylXavQplima SirryiinaTa; Horn. 8.8; PG J1.325A). For a summary of Basil's references to paganism in the Cappadocian countryside in the 3605 and 3705, see Frank Trombley, Hellenic Religion and Christianization c. 370-529 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1994), 1:175; 2:120,122ff.

29. David Magie, Roman Rule in Asia Minor (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1950), 200. 30. Ibid., 201. 31. Ibid., see also Varro, De Re Rustica 1.57.2, Plin. HN 18.306 and Theophrastus, Historic Plantarcum 8.2.5. 32. J. O. Barrows, On Horseback in Cappadocia; or, A Missionary Tour Together with Some Things Which They Saw Who Made It (Boston: Congregational Sunday-School and Publishing Society, 1884), 86-87. 33. Natalia B. Teteriatnikov, The Liturgical Planning of Byzantine Churches in Cappadocia, OCA 252 (Rome: Pontifico Istituto Orientale, 1996); see esp. fig. 19.

Hunger 71 various places on the road. . . . One father took his children to the brink of the Halys to throw them in. ... The oldest broke away and ran for his life. . . . In their desperation the people would eat grass and weeds. . . . The cities all around were filled with a great horde of beggars. . . , 34 Even the problem of importing food was the same in the iSoos as in the 3605: There was grain enough not more than 150 miles away. But there was no method of transporting it. In the winter the snow was deep. Afterwards there were few animals [to haul it]. ... The people had no money. . . . In some places where they suffered, there was grain enough in the granaries locked up. It belonged to the men who had wrung it out of the poor people for their taxes. Some of it belonged to the government.35 It is not clear from Barrows's text whether he knew of Basil's famine sermon. Yet he shares Basil's pastoral tendency to explain disaster in both political and religious terms, as a moral failure of those who could have provided help but did not. Famine and the Bishop Basil the Patron-Rhetor Scholars have often noted that Basil's theological texts lacked the philosophical depth in, for example, Gregory of Nyssa's treatment of the same subjects; a case in point would compare their treatises against Eunomius or their depiction of creation. As Thomas Merton wrote to the Sufi scholar Abdul Aziz, "Basil was very interesting but there are deficiencies in him. He was an active organizer rather than a contemplative and there is little or no mysticism in him. One feels a certain coldness and lack of deep inner spirit.... In a word there is a bit of the formalist in him."36 Yet this very "formalism" well suited the traditional GraecoRoman civic patron, and Basil's "formalism" made him a brilliant administrator, organizing theology (particularly as it related to the doctrine of the Trinity and the divinity of the Holy Spirit), monastic life (ultimately influencing St. Benedict and Merton's own Cistercian order, which Merton is quick to admit), church leadership (appointing regional bishops), and social assistance. Because of these particular gifts, possibly accompanied by a certain insensitivity to other people's feelings (of which Nazianzen considered himself a victim), Basil was particularly free to employ the dynamics of power at his disposal. He used this power in the manner of his day: by assuming responsibility for certain civic liturgies and his deliberate display of the paideia of the elite patron, his use of words. Thomas Kopecek long ago located the three men among the elite of Cappadocia;57 their gifted use of paideia was no artificial posturing. Nazianzen identifies

34. Barrows, On Horseback in Cappadocia, 307-9. 35. Ibid., 312-13. 36. Thomas Merton, The Hidden Ground of Love: The Letters of Thomas Merton on Religious Experience and Social Concerns, ed. William H. Shannon (New York: Farrar, Straus, Giroux, 1985), 51. 37. Thomas A. Kopecek, "The Social Class of the Cappadocian Fathers," Church History 42 (1973): 453-66; see also idem, "The Cappadocian Fathers and Civic Patriotism," Church History 43 (1974): 293-303.

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Basil's rhetoric as the higher form of nourishment offered to the famine victims: in addition to aiding the physically starving, Basil also provided the nourishment of the Word and that more perfect good work and distribution being from heaven and on high; if the bread of angels is the Word, whereby souls hungry for God are fed and given to drink, and seek after nourishment that neither diminishes nor fails but remains forever; thus [i.e., by his sermons] this supplier of grain38 and abundant riches [he who was] the poorest and most needy [person] I have known, provided, not for a famine of bread or a thirst for water, but a longing for the truly life-giving and nourishing Word, which effects growth to spiritual maturity in those nourished well on it.39

Basil's rhetorical power is here defined in moral terms; as a man who has mastered himself to choose poverty and personal need, Basil can access the spiritual benefits of heavenly nourishment and make them available to the hungry soul. Basil's paideia is an integral moral aspect of his religious authority. Lucian quipped that it would be easier to find white crows and flying tortoises than a Cappadocian who was a reputable orator,40 although the phenomenon was hardly this rare by the fourth century; the most eminent Sophist in Athens at the turn of the century was Julian, a rhetor from Caesarea of Cappadocia.41 In this Basil and the Gregories were white crows and flying tortoises. Basil was "more hostile to rhetoric than Gregory,"42 but his rhetoric reflects no less the influence of his classical training.43 Basil's sermons on poverty are rhetorical constructs, moral injunctions whose power depends not only on their style, delivered orally to a congregation made up largely of landowners and wealthy farmers whom Basil charges with greed and injustice, but also perhaps centrally on the moral authority Basil claims for himself as he practices liturgies, public services, to community and pauper-client alike. Basil in 368 Basil's rise in ecclesiastical power and the delivery of his poverty sermons cannot be separated from this social and geographic landscape. By the time the food shortage reached the crisis of famine, Basil was approaching the age of 40. He had been very busy since returning home from Athens in the mid 3505: his sister Macrina had persuaded him in his conversion to a monastic ascesis; he had visited

38. aiT.o86Tni;, the same word Nazianzus uses in his earlier analogy of Basil with Joseph for his distribution of grain. Or. 43.36. 39. GNaz, Or. 43.36; my translation; PG 36.545AB. 40. Lucian, Epigram 43, cited in (Philostratus) Philostratus and Eunapius: Lives of the Sophists, trans. Wilmer C. Wright, LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1921), 240-4111.2. 41. Eunapius Vitae Sophistarum 482—85. The presence of gifted Cappadocians outside of Cappadocia may have represented a type of "brain drain," since Basil more than once in his letters alludes to —or seeks to correct —the poor literary skills of those around him (e.g., Epp. 135, 333, 334). The questions whether and how local dialect may have related to this and to homiletic effectiveness remain. 42. Kennedy, A New History of Classical Rhetoric, 262. 43. See, e.g., James M. Campbell, The Influence of the Second Sophistic on the Style of the Sermons of St. Basil the Great, Patristic Studies 2 (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1922); Robert C. Gregg, Consolation Philosophy: Creek and Christian Paidea in Basil and the Two Gregories, Patristic Monograph Series 3 (Philadelphia: Patristic Foundation, 1975); see also Kennedy, Greek Rhetoric under Christian Emperors, 239.

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monks in Egypt, Syria, Palestine and Mesopotamia, established his own monastic community, practice, and rules; and he had been active in disputations against the neo-Arians, particularly the teachings of Aetius and Eunomius and, for the past three or four years he had been using his administrative and rhetorical skills in his service as priest in the church at Caesarea under the titular bishop, Eusebius. It is curious that the famine sermon and Basil's letters referring to the crisis do not mention Eusebius, though he was still the bishop and presumably present, he might possibly have been aged or ill. Chosen as bishop from public life while yet unbaptized, Eusebius seems to have lacked the inclination or training to apply paideia to theological disputation, which was by now a virtual prerequisite for the ecclesiastical leitourgia. Although Basil's (and the younger Gregory's) relationship with this Eusebius had apparently been troubled at first,44 Eusebius seems to have functionally ceded active leadership to Basil, and this continued until Eusebius's death in 370, when Basil was consecrated in his place, the consecration apparently under the ruling authority of the Elder Gregory of Nazianzus.45 Thus the calamity of severe famine and drought came at precisely the time when Basil could most providentially use it to establish himself as the leading patron and ideal tropheus — spiritually and literally — for the people of Caesarea. Basil's texts on famine and poverty include his Homily 6, 8, 9, possibly 7, and Second Homily on Psalm 14. Only in Homily 8 is famine the dominant image; the others concern economic imbalance as it relates to ownership, penury, and debt. His letters include several brief allusions to famine and his organized relief efforts. In Epistle 86 (ca. 372), Basil appeals to the governor for a return of grain stolen from a presbyter Dorotheus, suggesting ongoing food crises. He uses famine imagery as a timeless metaphor in Epistle 91: "For terrible among us is the famine of love." He discusses his action in organized poverty relief in Epistle 94, (ca. 372) where he describes his Basileias; he refers to it again in Epistle 150 (ca. 373) and 176 (ca. 374), inviting Amphilochius to a "memorial" event concerning the Basileias. While Basil's casual famine references are consonant with the Gregories' basic narrative — that there was a famine and Basil was a visible figure in organizing relief—one cannot lose sight of the Gregorian bias: the Gregories' homiletic eulogies on Basil represent a heroized image of the Christian tropheus that is simply impossible to measure, quantitatively, against "real-life" events in Caesarea. We do not know the economic details of Basil's actions. We do not know whether all the food that Basil distributed was purchased with his own money or if some of the stores he "opened" were donated by, for example, that wealthy but silent honorary, the bishop Eusebius. The relative price of what was sold is also unknown. Nazianzen's Oration 43 emphasizes that Basil made no profit on his beneficence, but Nyssen's claim that he "spent his patrimony" on aid suggests that others did. Given the network of power common in patronage dynamics in antiquity, it is not unlikely that Basil convinced the wealthy to sell their stockpiled grain —to him —at (perhaps) a reasonable price, and he then supervised its distribution to the needy. These uncertainties do not sig-

44. GNaz, Epp. 16-18 (to Eusebius). 45. GNaz, Or. 18.36.

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nificantly affect how we might consider the construct of the poor in the sermons of these three men, however. Clearly something occurred in Caesarea under this gifted administrator-bishop in his last year as Eusebius's subordinate, although we are left guessing on many particulars. Among the more tangible long-term effects of Basil's work, it seems, was his construction of the "Basileias," or ptochotropheion. Institutionalizing Relief: The Ptochotropheion Basil built his hospice for the poor, an early form of what became known in some places as the "bishop's palace," on the family's country estate after the famine and after his official consecration as bishop. This edifice included a complex of apartments for the bishop, his guests, needy travelers, and the poor. Here the sick received medical and hospice care from physicians, nurses, cooks, and servants.46 The poor who could work were employed or trained in various trades. Basil called it a ptochotropheion,^7 literally, a place to feed, nurture, and patronize (trepho) the destitute poor (ptochos). This neologism, ptochotropheion, seems to spring into being some time after 350 and may have its roots in the preaching and social action of Eustathius, the bishop of Armenian Sebaste whose ascetic practices were censured at the council at Gangra. Basil addresses Eustathius in 375 as "beloved man of truth,"48 and Philip Rousseau suggests that Eustathius's influence on Basil's ascetic vision was far greater than Basil will later admit.49 In Epistle 223 Basil recalls Eustathius's frequent visits to Basil's monastic hermitage on the Iris River, and their frequent discussions as they traveled together. A half-century later, Epiphanius mentions that Eustathius had entrusted his presbyter, Aerius, "with the xenodocheion which in Pontus is called a ptochotropheion. For they make arrangements of this kind out of hospitality and the leaders of the churches there lodge the crippled and infirm and supply [their needs] as best they can."50 It is not clear from this text whether the xenodocheion "is called a ptochotropheion" in Eustathius's day or only at the time of Epiphanius's writing fifteen to twenty years later (as Basil's ptochotropheion gained renown). Given Eustathius's presumed influence on Basil, however, it is not unlikely that Eustathius himself coined the term, if indeed his institution marks its first use, and that Basil adopted it from him. Xenodocheion was, as Epiphanius suggests, the older term, hospitality to strangers being an ancient Greek ideal associated with Zeus. The Greek term was readily adapted by Christians for their own institutions. There was a xenodocheion in Antioch in 332 where clergy, widows, and poor received an allotment of the annona granted them by Constantine during a famine,51 and another xenodocheion in the capital itself.52

46. Basil, Ep. 94. 47. E.g., Ep. 176. 48. Basil, Ep. Try. & jie. 49. Rousseau, Basil of Caesarea, esp. 68—76. 50. Epiph., Pan. 75.1; PG 42.5048-0, trans. Frank Williams, The Panarion of Epiphanius of Salamis, Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1994), 2.491. 51. According to the ninth-century Theophanis Chronographia. a.m. 5824 (de Boor 1.29), cited in Miller, The Birth of the Hospital, 21. 52. DAC, Hopitaux, Hospices, Hotelleries, 2750; Charite 650, cited in Ramon Teja, Organization econimica y social de Capadocia, 12111.1.

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Basil himself refers to ptochotropheia other than his own. In 373 he sends an unnamed man with a letter "to the prefect's accountant" asking the accountant "to inspect the ptochotropheia in the district under his care and to exempt it entirely from taxation. For it has already pleased your colleague also to make the small property of the poor (penetes) immune from assessment."" Ever the astute politician, Basil's next letter is to the man's colleague, in which he mentions several ptochotropheia: the ptochotropheion administered by the episkopos bearing the letter, the (plural) ptochotropheia for which his colleague has promised support, and, to top it off, he says to the accountant himself, "You are supporting one of the homes at Amasea [in Pontus] with the means which the Lord has bestowed upon you."54 Although Basil's own ptochotropheion is best known, these references illustrate that it was not a unique or unprecedented institution at this time, although it was apparently part of a new movement. Ptochotropheion becomes the term of the day for what had previously been (and continued in other places to be) called xenodocheion. The one who fed the poor became known as a ptochotrophos.^ Here then, clearly, the poor as a group enter the Greek language of patronage and hospitality. Basil's Basi\eias/ptochotropheion was completed by 372, perhaps earlier. It may or may not have received an imperial subsidy: Theodoret suggested that the emperor Valens gave Basil "some fine l a n d s . . . for the poor under [Basil's] care, for they being in grievous bodily affliction were specially in need of care and cure.">6 Giet doubted the historicity of this imperial patronage because of the theological divide between Basil and Valens,57 but Raymond Van Dam58 and Rousseau have more recently treated it as historical. Basil's ptochotropheion was called the "new city,"59 and William Ramsay suggested it became large and influential enough to redefine the city limits.60 It continued to draw the needy in the fifth century,61 when Sozomen identified it as a "celebrated hospice for the poor."62

53. Basil, Ep. 142, trans. Deferrari, 2.345. 54. Ibid. 143, trans. Deferrari, 2.347. 55. Asterius, Homily 4.8.4. 56. Theodoret. HE 4.16, trans. Blomfield Jackson, NPNF 2 3.120; PG 82.11606. 57. Giet, Les idees et Faction sociales, 420. 58. Van Dam, "Emperor, Bishops and Friends," 53-76. Both Ammianus and the fourth- and fifthcentury Christian writers depict Valens in an uncomplimentary light, as fickle and cruel. Ammianus does, however, judge Valens "very just in the rule of the provinces, each of which he protected from injury as he would his own house" (Amm. Mar. 31.14.2) and alludes to Valens's role in funding various public building projects (Amm. Mar. 31.14.4). Van Dam points out that in the year prior to his land donation to Basil, Valens had granted building funds to western Asia Minor after an earthquake (Van Dam, "Emperor, Bishops and Friends," citing Forties Juris Romani Antejustiniani, i, ed. S. Riccobono [Florence, 1968], no. 108, with A. Schulten, "Zwei Erlasse des Kaisers Valens iiber die Provinz Asia," JOEAI ix [1906]: 40-61). 59. GNaz, Or. 43:63, f) KCUVT] jioXu;; PG 36.5770. 60. "The 'New City' of Basil seems to have caused the gradual concentration of the entire population of Caesarea round the ecclesiastical centre, and the abandonment of the old city. Modern Kaisari is situated between i and 2 miles from the site of the Graeco-Roman city" (William M. Ramsay, The Church in the Roman Empire before AD 170, 8th ed. [London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1904], 464). At Basil's death Nazianzus still locates it as "a little way from the city" (Or. 43.63). 61. Ep. 12 by Firmus, the fifth-century bishop of Caesarea, describes a shortage of essential resources during a later famine; Firmus's Ep. 43 suggests that those living in the institution actually "ran away" (cited in Rousseau, Basil of Caesarea, 14111.30). 62. Soz., HE 6.34; PG 67.1397A.

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Just as Basil's social structures were (probably) influenced by earlier monastic "activists" such as Eustathius, they also must be viewed within63 the larger framework of his own family, as Philip Rousseau and Susanna Elm64 have emphasized. Gregory of Nyssa says that his mother had "four sons and five daughters and was paying taxes to three governors because her property was scattered over that many provinces."65 All four of the brothers and at least one sister were actively engaged with the needs of the destitute within the community. Long before the famine, Basil's brother Naucratius chose at age 21 to live as a hermit monk in the woods, where he "cared for a group of old people living together in poverty and infirmity."66 Macrina established a monastic community made up of her own household. Some of the women who joined her were victims of starvation she found along the roads.67 Basil's brother Peter "was above all a coworker with his sister and mother in every phase of their angelic existence."68 Both Macrina and Peter were caring for the needy prior to the famine and both provided direct assistance in distributing food during the famine.69 While Macrina, Peter, Naucratius, and Basil were all involved in various administrative roles in poverty relief, Basil's homilies and building projects yielded him a significantly larger portion of the textual limelight, perhaps because much of the relevant text was his own.

In Famem et Siccitatem Basil's famine sermon, Homily 8, In famem et siccitatem,70 has received little serious scholarly attention, and a critical edition is needed. All that is known of its context is that found in the homily itself and in the Gregories' references to the famine. The ser-

63. Although not necessarily in close cooperation with it. 64. Rousseau, Basil ofCaesaria, esp. 1-126; Susanna Elm, "Virgins of God": The Making of Asceticism in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), esp. 78-105. 65. GNys, Vita S. Macrinae, trans. Virginia Woods Callahan, "The Life of Saint Macrina," in Saint Gregory of Nyssa, Ascetical Works, FC 58 (Washington, D. C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1967), 167. 66. Ibid., 169. 67. "There were those she had nursed and reared after rinding them prostrate along the highway at the moment of starvation and she led them to the pure and uncorrupted life." GNys, V Macr., following Callahan, 183. 68. GNys, V. Macr. 12.30-34. Theodoret placed Peter "[i]n front rank with [Basil and the two Gregories j .. . Peter, born of the same parents with Basil and Gregory, who, though not having received like them a foreign education, like them lived a life of brilliant distinction" (trans. Jackson, NPNF2 3.129). Peter was bishop of Sebaste after Eustathius's death in 377, and Nyssen attaches correspondence with Peter to his treatise on Eunomius. 69. Nyssen wrote of Peter: "Once when there was a terrible famine and many people came pouring into our region because of the fame of its prosperity, he furnished so much nourishment through his foresight that the large numbers going to and fro made the hermitage seem like a city" (V. Macr. 12,3034, trans. Callahan, 172). Of Macrina, Nyssen wrote of "that incredible farming phenomenon at the time of the famine when, as the grain was given out in proportion to the need, the amount did not seem to grow smaller, but remained the same as it was before it was given to those asking for it" (V. Macr. 39.7-11, trans. Callahan, 190). Miraculous multiplication of distributed food, reminiscent of the Gospel feeding accounts, is a common topos in hagiography. 70. PG 31.303-28. This abridged Latin title is Paul Jonathan Fedwick's. The homily is present in virtually all documented collections of the Greek corpus, although without a fixed location; it is often

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mon's (at best) vague and allusive discussion of theological issues, the explicit detail of the immediate famine crisis, and the almost disjointed nature of the narrative may have made it an unlikely text for casual homiletic reuse. Deferrari dates Basil's Epistle 31, concerning the famine, to the autumn of 368;71 Bernardi dates it to the famine and drought summer of 369.72 Like Basil's other sermons on poverty, Famem et siccitatem is an injunction to those with any material resources at all, but especially the "rich," to assist the needy within the community. "Open to the world the dark cave of mammon," he says to those storing their grain reserves in dark underground caverns."73 In this sermon Basil suggests that mortality from starvation was an immediate and very visible reality. He describes this famine hunger as a living death, constructing the body of the poor as essential hunger itself, their social identity liminal, as likely as their body to disappear into nonbeing. This hunger, Basil considers, is the supreme human calamity, a more miserable end than all other deaths. For when one considers other life-threatening calamities, the sword brings a quick end; fire too extinguishes life quickly; and even wild beasts, tearing limbs apart with their teeth, inflict fatal wounds that assure that the distress will not be prolonged. But famine is a slow evil, always approaching, always holding offlike a beast in its den. The heat of the body cools. The form shrivels. Little by little strength diminishes. Flesh stretches across the bones like a spider web. The skin loses its bloom, as the rosy appearance fades and blood melts away. Nor is the skin white, but rather it withers into black. . . . The knees no longer support the body but drag themselves by force, the voice is powerless. . . . [T]he eyes are sunken as if in a casket, like dried up nuts in their shells; the empty belly collapses, conforming itself to the shape of the backbone without any natural elasticity of the bowels. The person who rushes by such a body, how greatly worthy is he of chastisement? What excess of cruelty will he allow? Should he not be reckoned with the savagery of the beasts, accursed and a homicide?74

found near the end of each collection; for detailed summaries and a discussion of "families" of texts, see Stig Y. Rudberg, Etudes sur la tradition manuscrite de saint Basils (Lund: Hakan Ohlssons, 1953), refuted and revised in Fedwick's recent comprehensive study on Basil's homiletic manuscript tradition, Bibliotheca Basiliana Vniversalis (=BBV) II.1,2, Corpus Christianorum (Turnhout: Brepols, 1996) II.2:106769. The homily was "probably never" translated into Syriac (Fedwick, "The Translations of the Works of Basil before 1400," in Basil ofCaesarea: Christian, Humanist, Ascetic: A Sixteen-Hundredth Anniversary Symposium [Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 1981], 2:450). It is translated in several extant Georgian MSS, the earliest being the eleventh-century Ethika, produced by a Greek-speaker named Ewkt'ime who learned Georgian and became famous for his skill at producing Georgian "paraphrase" translations (Fedwick, "The Translations," 495-97). The earliest extant Latin translation is from the sixteenth century (BBV 11.2:1068-69). There are a number of extant translations into Old Slavonic (BBV 11.2:1069). Translations into Romanian [Dumitru Fecioru, Sf. Vasile eel Mare, Cuvint rostit in timp de foamete ji seceta (Bucharest, 1947] and Polish [Tadeusz Sinko, Sw Bazyli Wielke. Wybor homilij i kazari Tlumaczyl i wstgpem opatrzyl (Krakow: Wyd. Mariackie, 1947)], both cited in BBV 0,2:971, suggest an interest in the sermon in postwar Eastern Europe that invites further study. For references on other modern translations, see BBV II.,2:1069. As this book was going to press I learned that an English translation is being prepared by Richard Finn, O.P., for the Texts and Translations for Historians series (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, forthcoming). 71. Roy J. Deferrari, St. Basil: The Letters, 176.11.2. 72. Bernardi, La predication, 61. 73. Basil, Horn. 6.6, trans. Toal, The Sunday Sermons, 3.330-31. 74. Selections from PG 31.32160; my translation. For another translation of Basil's description of

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The term ptochos, generally denoting the destitute poor, does not occur in this text, and Basil uses it rarely except when he is paraphrasing other speakers or texts, including Scripture, which use ptochos rather than penes. Nonetheless, the condition of the poor whom Basil describes in Homily 8 is unquestionably destitute beggary, most likely a beggary of those who before the famine had been well-established members of the community. These penetes are further depicted as hungry, in need, demanding, as a starving brother (adelphos), and in terms of relative poverty: In 8.6, Basil says, "Are you poor? There is someone much poorer" (TtdvwD^ Tievecnepov). The poor are frequently depicted as overtly body (ao>u.a) whom the rich rush by; as naked, yet of more value than the rich person's well-covered sheep. In Homily j Basil rarely mentions the poor except as passive and silent images. In Homily 8 they take active center stage: they weep in the fields, trudge through the dry riverbeds, and knock at the door begging for food. The sermon was delivered during a church service devoted to (and probably calling specifically for) public repentance. In 8.3, Basil identifies the audience as apathetic adults, boisterous but inattentive children, and screaming infants. Although the few adults "remain with me at prayer, even those are distracted, yawning, turning around unceasingly, waiting for the cantor to finish the psalms so they will be dismissed from the church and the need to pray as from prison." Children in the congregation cry out "along with us; [they] share in our occupation as a kind of recreation and fun; they make our grief into a holiday." In this same section he says that newborn infants also "are being brought here in numbers" and "pushed forward" wrongfully, appearing by themselves, apart, as "some substitute person" in the place of their associated adults. This unusual reference to the infant as an image of the penitent will be discussed further below. It is to this audience that Basil preaches a sermon that focuses on two images: sin and starvation. His emphasis on sin is evident in the text's extended tirade of blame. He blames the congregation for wrongfully hiding goods that ought to be shared. In 8.4, he blames them for avarice, for ingratitude to God, for marketing grain that ought to be given away, and for imposing usury. This is a world where moral failure is understood as the cause of environmental disaster. "Look now how the multitude of our sins forced the seasons to [be] unnatural."75 In 8.2, he blames them for being unsociable skinflints and even homicidal: whoever is able to relieve destitution but prefers personal profit "should be condemned as a murderer."76 Basil's emphasis in this text on mourning is of particular interest, as it is here that Basil constructs the body of the poor in terms of liturgy, justice, and gift. The relationship between mourning, the appearance of poverty, and hunger is ancient. From the Israelites to Christians in late Antiquity, penance evoked an image of ashes, sackcloth, and a literal fast. The Cappadocians assume this image in their references to

starvation, see Piero Camporesi, Bread of Dreams: Food and Fantasy in Early Modern Europe, trans. David Gentilcore (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989), 27. 75. PG 31.3080. 76. PC 31.32100.

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penance; Nyssen refers to it as well in his first of the De pauperibus amandis sermons, both preached during Lent. There is some suggestion that strictly graded categories of liturgical repentance were understood and/or practiced in Asia Minor at this time, grades of penance in which mourning was intrinsic. 77 Basil's Epistles 188, 199, and 217, addressed to Amphilochius and dated 374-375, treat this type of graded penance as already an ancient and normative custom to which he simply applies fine-tuning. Regardless of dating, all grades of penance traditionally place the "mourner" in the lowest position, and Basil assumes this in Epistle 217. In describing involuntary starvation in terms of traditional mourning, Basil creates a literary contrast between those who ought to practice penance but do not, and those who are expressing sincere mourning, but for sins that are not their own. These latter were the undeserving famine victims, who suffer punishment while those in church mourn falsely, attending the penitential service but in truth distracted, greedy, unmerciful, letting the infant and the poor do the real suffering in their place. To understand Basil's constructed view of the famine crisis, therefore, one must first examine his enigmatic reference to infants and his more explicit and extensive construct of the starving poor in this text. The Mourning Infant Basil's use of infant imagery here to construct the body of the poor is unprecedented in the Cappadocians. The deliberate relationship he depicts between infant "penance" and liturgical imagery is also unusual. It begins in 8.3, where Basil censured his audience for inappropriately bringing the brephos, the very young infant, "to the confession," 7tpo<; if|V e^onoX6yr|oiv: Newborn infants without understanding or fault are being brought here in numbers for [services of public] confession, even though they have no grounds for grieving, nor the knowledge or ability to pray in the normal way. Come forth yourselves, I say, publicly [eiq (ieaov] you who are defiled with sin, falling on your knees, weeping and groaning; Let the infant do what is proper to its own age! Why are you, the accused, hiding yourself as you push forward one who is not even under suspicion, to make amends? Surely the judge will not be fooled78 at the fact that you are introducing some substitute person before him? It would be right, in fact, for [the infant] to appear along with you —but not by itself [n.6vov]!79

77. Defined, for example, in the eleventh chapter of the canonical epistle attributed to Gregory Thaumaturgus, in which church attendees are differentiated into those "mourning" (prosklausis) as sinners standing outside the church portals, "hearing" (akroasis) as sinners standing in the narthex, "falling" (hypoptosis), attending at the door and going out with the catechumens before the celebration of the mysteries, "bystanding" (systasis), present with the faithful but not fully participating and, last, those who participate in the holy mysteries (methexis ton hagiasmaton); for full translation, see Oscar D. Watkins, A History of Penance (London: Longmans, Green, 1920), 240. Raymond Van Dam explores the Wonderworker's influence on the Cappadocians in his "Hagiography and History: The Life of Gregory Thaumaturgus," Classical Antiquity i (1982): 272-508. This strict categorization of penance may be a later addition, though the general concept is early; see also Tertullian's depiction of penitential posture in similar terms of prostration, humiliation, fasting, and rags associated with mourning (De poenitentia 9). 78. TCdi^eTca; the allusion to childish behavior seems a deliberate pun. 79. PG ji.jogD-ji^A.

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Basil says little elsewhere about babies. Nearly a third of the references to brephos in his surviving works occur in this particular text. His use of brephos elsewhere is usually incidental, referring, for example, to Egyptian infants dying in Exodus,80 to Jesus' presentation in the Temple,81 or metaphorically in relation to one's spiritual state.82 In Homily 8, however, he uses infancy imagery deliberately to point to a very literal and visible reality. What is he describing? It is impossible to assess just how literally the infants here may have been playing this substitutionary role. Bernard! explained Basil's reference to infants in terms of those who were not present: that it was inappropriate for only the women and children to come to church — not very wholeheartedly at that — while the men were out profiteering from famine prices. Yet this explanation in itself seems inadequate. Nor does it make sense that Basil would berate mothers or nurses in these terms if they were simply bringing their hungry infants to church with them, the babies crying out of hunger simply because their mothers had no food to give them. It is not surprising that babies might be present during worship services in antiquity. But Basil's description of them goes beyond the commonplace to emphasize something unusual, as noted earlier, an inappropriate substitution. He uses the example of crying infants to argue that public penance ought to be modeled after Nineveh, where everyone from the king to the beasts in the barn went without food. There were no substitutes in Nineveh. This emphasis on wrongful substitution seems to imply more than simply a high noise level in the sanctuary and a low number of male participants. In a literary world where infants usually had to be dead before they were mentioned,83 Basil focuses on newborns who were very much alive and actually doing something culturally inappropriate — although we are not sure what it was. Given the image he evokes — starving and crying victims who bear their suffering alone —one wonders whether Basil's congregation was perhaps abandoning their infants within hearing distance of the church. Abandoned infants would presumably be hungry, weeping, ragged, and prostrate: the perfect image of the liturgical mourner, yet not for their own sins. And certainly infants were abandoned in famine. Macrina took into her monastery women she found starving along the road; some presumably had young children they were unable to feed.84 Gregory Nazianzus says Basil's hospice care during the famine extended to all ages, even the nepios, the very young child.85

80. Basil, De humilitate [= Horn. 20]; PG 31.528.47. 81. Basil, In sanctam christi generationem, PG 31.1473.43. 82. Basil, Horn, in principium proverbiorum [=Hom. 12]; PG 31.389.12; Homiliae super Psalmos; PG 29.369.14 and 489.37; De humilitate; PG 31.536.33. 83. For a more extensive exploration of infant feeding and hunger in the ancient world, see my article "Molded as Wax: Formation and Feeding of the Ancient Newborn," Helios 24 (1997): 77-95. 84. GNys, V. Macr.; trans. Callahan, 183. 85. GNaz, Or. 43.35. There is no evidence, however, that Basil's assistance took the form of a foundling nursery or orphanage; the infants appear as one part of a large collection of persons displaced by the crisis and ensuing poverty. Timothy Miller has noted that the Ppe<j>OTpo<|>eiov as such is never mentioned before sixth-century church legislation (Miller, The Birth of the Hospital in the Byzantine Empire, 24).

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This sermon, however, refers to a very specific group of infants, and there are certain problems with interpreting this particular reference as one of abandonment. If the parents were the poor, those forced by famine and exploitation to give up children they could not feed, it would make little economic sense to abandon them when in these circumstances parents could —and did —sell their children to feed the rest of the family. More problematic, Basil implied that these infants were under the power of, and perhaps belonged to the household of the very citizens who had grain stockpiled and were victimizing the poor. Certainly it is possible that landowners might limit their household during a famine by ridding themselves of servants' and slave infants, but Basil says —to those who are not even present —"It would be right for [the infant] to appear with you [|ieta oo\)]." Whatever their parentage, these infants were part of the social structure and could not even symbolically be isolated from it. Further against the abandonment theory, Basil does not in fact condemn the actual suffering of these infants. Instead he argued that their entire households ought to participate with them in this penitential state. Given Basil's use of metaphor and the absence of any other reference to this circumstance, there is no way to know whether he here refers to infants being abandoned or to those who simply made up a loud and disproportionate segment of his congregation, or whether the allusion to infants' cries reflects some combination of famine-related power imbalance that is not immediately evident to the outside reader of this enigmatic text. Regardless of what is going on, however, the ritual image of penitence and mourning is central. Whether infants were present with or without their caretakers, they here present an intentional and powerful image through which the audience may see the other victims in their community: the poor. Basil thus uses this image and builds from it to emphatically point to those adults who are starving along the roads, riverbeds, and fields. The infants' and the mourners' penitential prostration, kneeling, weeping, fasting, and crying out for help parallels exactly Basil's description of the poor in the fields. As intriguing as it is, the infant reference is one brief image within the larger fabric of community starvation. The Starving Poor In constructing his image of starving adults in this text, Basil repeatedly draws on biblical models to depict both the unjustly starving poor and those who assist them. He opens the sermon with a quote from Amos, who "applied remedies to the same evil disturbances which are happening to us." He then describes the circumstances that led to the crisis: a cold, dry winter had been followed by a dry, hot spring. The riverbeds were so dry that women and children were using them as paths. Out in the fields starving farmers knelt on the barren soil, gripping their knees in a classic image of lamentation, caressing the withered stalks as they might embrace their children's corpses. The farmer's voice is compared, in 8.2, with the seeds of grain "vainly scattering to the winds; for we have not listened to those who ask for our help." Rather than repenting properly, like those at Nineveh, the Cappadocians are instead sinning like Achar (Joshua 7) and Zambri (Numbers 25:6-15) as they busy themselves with stockpiling and burying wealth in the ground. Basil particularly emphasizes biblical texts on the divine feeding of prophets and

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patriarchs. He cites the example of Elijah fed by ravens (i Kings 17:1-4), the oil and trust of the widow of Sidon (i Kings 17:8-16), Adam's "sin by wrongful eating" (Gen. 3), several aspects of Joseph's food patronage, and a Greek account of Daniel in the lion's den (Dan. 14:31-39). This image of Daniel from the apocryphal Bel and the Dragon is particularly vivid. Pagan impotence in the divine provision of food is contrasted with the supernatural power of the living God to provide long-distance hunger relief to his righteous servants, as God causes an angel to physically swoop up the prophet Habakkuk, along with a pot of hot stew intended for the field laborers in Jerusalem, and propels him by smooth angelic aeroflight all the way to Daniel's cell in Babylon, to feed the prophet. "On the one hand the lions fasted, contrary to nature," Basil comments in 8.5, "while on the other hand [Daniel's] nourisher was carried through the air, the angel carrying the man along with the stew, so that the righteous might not be absorbed by hunger." New Testament references to food and hunger play a very small part in Basil's text. He does not mention Jesus' feeding miracles or Paul's collection for the poor. Nor does he explicitly refer to the church except in terms of the deficiencies of insincere liturgical worship. The bulk of his argument is built on Old Testament texts and Graeco-Roman ideals, particularly the civic image of communal meals and the patron as tropheus. As Basil constructs the starving poor in this sermon and defines his own and his congregation's ideal relationship to them, he never separates the liturgical images of repentance from an emphasis on social order and the role of the civic patron. Both penance and patron imply a standard of justice and social morality. Basil operates within the cultural context of the ideal rhetor whom Aristotle described: "What makes the sophist is not the faculty but the moral purpose. . . . The orator persuades by moral character when his speech is delivered in such a manner as to render him worthy of confidence."86 Basil's moral power is inextricably woven together with his social status and education, which in his society grant him the right to administer authority. The importance of Basil's references to the civic tropheus, therefore, rest at their most basic level in the fact that he speaks as one himself. Basil's views of patronage and authority influence the way he uses the biblical text. Of the three Cappadocians, for example, it is Basil who refers most frequently to the parable of the sheep and goats in Matthew 25:31-46, the depiction of Christ's identification with the body of the suffering poor, and Christ's judgment of the just and unjust according to their responsiveness to meet these needs.87 Unlike Nazianzen, however, Basil rarely uses this parable to overtly identify the poor as Christ but rather more often focuses on those whom the judge approves, those who act as the ideal civic patron and tropheus. Alluding to Matthew 25, Basil notes in 8.7 that "even in the last

86. Arist., Rhetorica 1.1.14; 1.2.4, trans. J. H. Freese, Aristotle, LCL (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1930), 22.15, ll87. For example, the Biblia Patristica lists 48 references to this text in Basil's work, 23 in Gregory of Nyssa's, and 9 in Gregory of Nazianzus's; Bihlia Patristica (Paris: Editions du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1991), 5.279-80. While there may be some question about the method used to determine biblical references, Basil's preference for the text is clear.

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judgement... the nourisher will stand first in honor [6 xpocjje'Ui; TtparroOTmric; TCQV Ti,u(Q|ievG)v]; the supplier of bread will be called before everyone else." Basil contrasts Cappadocian tightfistedness with both pagan and biblical generosity. Like the emperor Julian who pointed to Christian beneficence in order to shame his pagan priests into a more philanthropic frame of mind, Basil similarly shames the Christians by pointing to pagan community ideals. "That which the Hellenes call philanthropy puts us to shame!" Basil charges in 8.8, perhaps pointing the audience back to Julian's political emphasis on pagan philanthropy only seven or eight years earlier. "According to some of them, the philanthropic law [VOU.QC; tyikavQpomoc,] is fulfilled by one table and common bread in a sizeable community that shares one hearth." He quickly qualifies this pagophilic outburst by asserting that biblical models are superior: especially as evidenced by the common sharing described among the early Christian community in Acts, and particularly the biblical model of Joseph, a civic patron par excellence. Those hoarding grain should "distribute freely to the old men, as Joseph fed Jacob, feed even your enemies in narrow straits as Joseph fed his betraying brothers, lament with the youths who are suffering, as Joseph lamented Benjamin."88 As Joseph threw off his cloak to avoid the grasping temptation of Potiphar's wife, so too those tempted by avarice should throw off the garments that tempt one to gold and the love of the world. The honors of heavenly glory must be earned by generous earthly philanthropy. For Basil, giving food does more than cover sin: it redeems the cosmic flaw. In 8.7 he asserts that "as Adam brought in sin by eating evilly, so we ourselves if we remedy the necessity and hunger of a brother, blot out his treacherous eating." This emphasis on effecting cosmic change is common in Nyssen, but sometimes less visible in his brother's administrative focus. Yet in the famine sermon Basil makes explicit parallels between individual action of those who help the poor and cosmic consequences: "Pour out tears in order to grasp a thunderstorm,. . . wash the feet of guests that God will deliver from drought, . . . wipe out oppressive usury that earth might bear appropriately."89 His use here of the wordplay on tokos, meaning both "bearing" and "usury," is a commonplace in ancient Greek references to usury, and one Basil uses again in his Second Homily on Psalm 14. Comparative Texts It would be helpful in furthering our understanding of Basil's famine sermon if we could compare it with other homiletic responses to dire starvation in late antiquity. Unfortunately, little else remains. While one finds the incidental voice of the poor in many texts, ancient rhetoric was generally unconcerned with systematically addressing acute social problems such as destitution, and the Cappadocians were among the earliest Greek Christians to fully appropriate classical rhetorical forms to this end.

88. PG 31.3256. 89. PG 31.3136. The wordplay on tokos as both "usury" and "agricultural reproduction" is standard in ancient comments on usury.

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Two texts, however, provide an interesting comparison to Basil's depiction of starvation, although neither is clearly a precise parallel. These include the description of famine at Edessa ca. 500 C.E. attributed to Ps.-Joshua the Stylite, and a brief homily, De Siccitate, preserved in Migne with the Ps.-Chrysostom material. The Chronicle of Ps.-Joshua the Stylite The Chronicle of Ps.-Joshua the Stylite90 is, as its title suggests, not a sermon at all but intended to be a moral-historical narrative by its monastic or clerical author who, like Basil, understood disaster in terms of sin and, like Basil, was concerned with the role of political leaders in disaster relief. The chronicle describes pestilence and famine from March 499, when the land around Edessa was infested with locusts, through the ensuing hunger from the dearth of grain, to the social upheaval that by 502 had devastated Edessa with extreme and overwhelming poverty, starvation, disease, and death. As a chronicle, the account is clearer than Basil's in narrating the long-term nature of the process by which famine effects poverty, disenfranchisement of property, migration, and social disorder, even if we accept the text's own claim that "no one, I think, is able to describe it as it really was."91 According to this text, the locusts were "a proof of God's justice manifested toward us, for the correction of our evil conduct."92 After they had destroyed the crop, Edessa's bishop went to request tax remission directly from the emperor. During his absence the governor, unwilling to wait, "extorted" the taxes using "great violence," and when the money arrived at court, the emperor refused to remit it,93 but instead released the population from their prior obligation to provide water for the resident ("Greek") soldiers.94 To a population now assured of water but with no money to buy food, the deputy governor, Eusebius, lifted all profit restrictions on bakers, so that there might be bread in the city. But "[ejven so, the poor were in straits because they had no money . . . to buy bread . . . and there was a scarcity of everything in the city and villages, so that the people actually dared to enter the holy places and for sheer hunger to eat the consecrated bread as if it had been common bread. Others cut pieces off carcases, that ought not to be eaten. . . ,"95 Famine typically progresses through several phases, discussed further below; there was worse to come. The next year, with money gone, no harvest, and stores exhausted, crowds of villagers flocked to Edessa in hopes of assistance, "sleeping in the porticoes and streets and wailing by night and day from the pangs of hunger. . . . [T]he whole city was full of them, and they began to die. .. ,"%

90. Translation of the Chronicle here is from W. Wright, trans., The Chronicle of Joshua the Stylite (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1882) and excerpts from the chronicle's famine chapters (3845) reprinted in Garnsey, Famine and Food Supply, 3-6. 91. Chronicle 38, trans. Wright, 29. 92. Ibid., 23. 93. Ibid., 39. 94. Reminiscent of Libanius's reference to water rights in the face of military coercion of the peasants at Antioch for "protection money;" see chapter 3. 95. Chronicle 40, trans. Wright, 30. 96. Ibid. 41, trans. Wright, 31.

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The emperor at last granted money to the governor so that bread might be distributed to the poor. Those who were eligible received a lead seal around their neck and a pound of bread each day, but "still they were not able to live, because they were tortured by the pangs of hunger, which wasted them away."97 That winter the poor began to die en masse from cold and disease, and "children and babes were crying in every street."98 Those in power began to compete in the philanthropic liturgies that now firmly included care for the poor. The "stewards of the Great church . . . established an infirmary among the buildings attached" to the church, burying the dead and offering a bed to the very ill. The governor, too, set up straw and mats in "the colonnades attached to the winter bath" and other wealthy citizens did the same. Even "the Greek soldiers... set up places in which the sick slept, and charged themselves with their expenses."99 Despite this civic competition in which no one wanted to be outdone, the starving poor continued to die "by a painful and melancholy death" throughout the winter. Even then, it was not over. Chronic undernutrition, stress, and urban death in such quantity led, as it usually does, to disease. The rich began to die. In March of 501, two years after the locusts, "there were public prayers on account of the pestilence, that it might be restrained from the strangers" who continued to flock to Edessa for help. By April the plague occurred in other cities, including Antioch and Nisibis. When the harvest finally came that summer, it was poor, and prices remained high until the next year, when the chronicler says there was "a little respite . . . granted us by the mercy of God."100 This story of famine illustrates the social and political dynamics common in such an environmental crisis. The role of the extreme poor as outside the civic leitourgia is evident in the beginning, when those with only limited funds were forced by taxation into destitution, and even eventual "emergency measures" did not consider the poor who could not afford emergency supplies. The sequence of political "solutions" is essentially a situation of "too little too late," crisis building on progressive misjudgments. As famine progresses, the poor are the first to become poorer, the first to beg, the first to starve, to freeze, to become diseased, and threaten the social order with plague, with crowds, with cries, and with their own corpses. Church and government leaders in turn initiate palliative care that removes the dying from the streets, but the city's reputation for relief measures draws more needy than it can serve. Susan Ashbrook Harvey has shown vividly how this crisis, disastrous as it was at the time, was merely one small point in a larger setting of political and social crisis, which continued well into the sixth century.101

97. Ibid. 42, trans, Wright, 31. 98. Ibid. 99. Chronicle 42-43, trans. Wright, 32-33. 100. Ibid. 45, trans. Wright, 34. 101. See esp. "Amida: The Measure of Madness," in Susan Ashbrook Harvey, Asceticism and Society in Crisis (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), 57—75. For Edessa's reputation as a place where the church cared for the poor, see idem, "The Holy and the Poor," in Hanawalt and Lindberg, eds., Through the Eye of a Needle (Kirksville, Mo.: Thomas Jefferson University Press, 1994), 43-66.

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In the text of the Chronicle, the poor are at first rarely associated with the church apart from the fact that they were stealing communion bread. They become the focal point of all church social and political action in the winter of 500-501, when clergy, governor, soldiers, and "the grandees of the city" opened infirmaries and practiced civic philanthropy precisely by caring for the destitute. This coincides with what anthropologist Robert Dirks calls the "alarm phase" (see later), marked by accelerated religious behavior, among other things; at Edessa this was a time of public funerals and "public prayers." They further become a religious reality themselves as corpses, when "all the inhabitants of the city were careful to attend in a body the funeral of those who were carried forth from the xenodocheion with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs that were full of the hope of the resurrection. . . . When these were buried, then everyone . . . accompanied the funeral of those who had died in his own neighborhood."102 The poor here thus become visible to the civic leitourgia precisely at the point when it becomes impossible for ordinary civic life to ignore them. This may mark a stage in famine stress response discussed further later, when ceremony and authority take on special meaning. Philagathos's De siccitate In comparison to the Edessan chronicle, the style of the short Greek homily, De siccitate,m bears much closer resemblance to Basil's sermon; its general rhetorical pattern is, in fact, identical to it. In 1965 Guiseppe Rossi Taibbi identified De siccitate, by its opening line, as Homily 62 in the collected sermons of a little-known eleventh-century Sicilian monk, Philagathos Cerameo, sometimes "called the philosopher."104 A brief exploration ofTaibbi's MS lists reveals that Horn. 62 is preserved in about half of the extant collections of Philagathos.105 While this homily may thus be an eleventh-century text from Sicily, it strongly suggests the influence Basil's text had on later famine homiletic. The homilist of De siccitate begins, like Basil, by quoting a prophetic text, in this case Jeremiah 9:1, followed by a reference to the author's explicit rhetorical use of the "prophetic prooemion:" Basil says, "jtpo(j>r|TiK6v 7ioif|0co(iev TO TOX> X,6you TipooiHiov.. ,"106 and the other says," 'E7ii8a\|/iX,et)eTa) jiot TO TOT} A,6yoi> npooiniov 6 TWV 7tpO(j)T)Twv 0i)|a7ta0e0TaTO<;."107 Each then launches into a personal observation of the environmental crisis at hand. The homilist of De siccitate describes an agricultural scenario consonant with Basil's:

102. Chronicle 43, trans. Wright 33. 103. PC 61.723-26. 104. As noted in CPG 4647; G. Rossi Taibbi, Sulla tradizione manoscritta dell' omiliario di Filagato da Cerami (Istitiito Siciliano di Studi Bizantini e Neoellenici; Palermo, n.p., 1965). 105. My tally, based on Taibbi's listed contents of each MSS collection, suggests that the sermon is missing for various reasons in 17 out of the 36 Byzantine MSS he cites and missing from 9 of the 13 ItaloGreca MSS cited. Since Horn. 62 is the last homily in all collections, the lacuna in many cases simply means that the end of the MSS was lost. Apart from identifying the homily, Taibbi does not make any particular remarks about it. 106. PG 32.3040. 107. PG 61.723.

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I see the scourge [udicml;] come upon this whole region and am moved to lament and tears. For heaven has been shut up on account of our sins and the clouds, exposed to the sun, are parched as everything burns. . . . The earth, hardened from the fire [as it lays] beneath the burning heat, disowns its own usual harvest. Woe to us! Dumb beasts are endangered because of our sins . . . ! Cattle bellow piteously like those who face death alone; the flocks bleat their laments to one another as the blaze prematurely dries out both their watering places and their fodder. The words of Joel are now fulfilled in our own time. . . .10S

Like Basil's Homily 8, De siccitate frequently mentions prophetic texts; in fact, the only nonprophetic texts used in this sermon are Deuteronomy 28:23 and Psalm 74:9: there is no explicit reference to a New Testament text. Like Basil, this homilist blames the disaster on the people's lack of concern for the poor and the distressed and their lack of attention to church order. It similarly uses occasional therapeutic language and also echoes Basil's emphasis on confession: "tyeirfovtec,: TT|V E^OUO^oyriau', ax; rcepi [f. worcep oi ev] (j>pevm8i ovTeq TOUI; GepdrcovTaq."109 Like Basil, this homilist suggests inappropriate victims — in this case livestock — and also refers to the presence of infants in Nineveh's penance.110 Like Basil, he calls for tears to bring on rain, the physical body to image the desired environment. Like Basil, he calls for a reverse in the cosmic crisis in terms of sin and merciful behavior: "Have mercy, suckling the newborn, the old who are sick, the poor who have been parched, that we not be destroyed for our sins."111 Given these striking similarities, it seems likely that, if the sermon was preached later, it was deliberately modeled on Basil's famine homily. There are striking differences between the two works, however. De siccitate does not refer to cantors or the liturgical use of psalms. It ends by referring, not to eschatological rewards and punishment, but to the "pure baptismal garment:" TOY KaGctpov TOU Pa7moumo<; %vt
108. PG 61.723; my translation; the reference (and subsequent quote) is to Joel 1:18,20. 109. PG 61.723. 110. PG 61.724. 111. PG 61.725. 112. PG 61.726. 113. PG 61.724.

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sin. This tone makes De siccitate strikingly unlike Homily 8, in spite of the overwhelming structural similarities between them. It is tempting to argue on the basis of the rhetorical similarities between Homily 62 and Basil's Homily 8, that perhaps the eleventh-century monk, Philagathos, did not write Homily 62 at all but merely discovered it in an ancient source of other "Ps.Chrysostom" material, found a use for it, and thus inadvertently preserved it under his own name. I am not aware, however, of any reference to an earlier existence of this text. If it is Philagathos's, it provides an intriguing window into the homiletic process of the medieval monastics and their pedagogic use of the famine-related patristic sources of late antiquity.

Starvation and Society: Politics and Power While the discussion thus far may be adequate as an exegesis and comparative study of Basil's text with others in its immediate historical context, starvation in antiquity, the body of the poor, and the Cappadocian sermons themselves are better understood if we take the exploration of starvation dynamics several steps farther. The throbbing echo of the famished body crosses history, effecting distinct physical and social dynamics. Corporal Starvation: The Body of Flesh The starving body in Basil's Homily 8 has religious and social value as a body and particularly as one suffering an injustice comparable to homicide. It is important therefore, to briefly consider what involuntary starvation really means on a physical level. Apart from Ancel Keys's monumental work based on male prison volunteers in a starvation experiment,114 most scientific studies on physical starvation have, for ethical reasons, worked from data generated incidentally during acute political crises in otherwise economically stable areas, such as the siege of Leningrad,115 enforced starvation in the Warsaw Ghetto in 1942,116 starvation in Nazi prison camps,117 the 194445 "Hunger Winter" in Holland (discussed later) and, in less economically stable areas, the Bengal famine of 1943,118 and famine in Africa during recent periods of political upheaval.119

114. Ancel Keys, Josef Brozek, Austin Henschel, and Olaf Mickelson, The Biology of Starvation, 2 vols. (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1950). 115. Documented in detail in H. E. Salisbury, The 900 Days: The Siege of Leningrad (New York: Harper and Row, 1969). 116. M. Winick, ed., Hunger Disease: Studies by the Jewish Physicians in the Warsaw Ghetto, trans. Martha Osnos. Current Concepts in Nutrition, (New York: John Wiley, 1979). 117. E.g., P. L. Mollison, "Observations on Cases of Starvation at Belsen," British Medical journal, Jan. 5,1946,4-8. 118. Documented in Famine Inquiry Commission, Report on Bengal (Delhi: Government of India Press, 1945); for a summary see, e.g., Amartya Sen, "The Great Bengal Famine," in Amartya Sen, Poverty and Famines: An Essay on Entitlement and Deprivation (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1981), 52-85. 119. See, e.g., R. E. Downs, Donna O. Kerner, and Stephen P. Reyna, eds., The Political Economy of African Famine, Food and Nutrition in History and Anthropology 9 (Philadelphia: Gordon and Breach, 1991).

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These and other studies have focused particularly on the effects of starvation on children's growth and female fertility, since these parameters represent the most sensitive measures of famine's effect on the healthy body.120 Of these, the most important is perhaps that of Stein et al., who examined the conditions and long-term outcome of the "Dutch hunger winter" of 1944-45, when rations fell to 800 calories per day.121 Stein's study, and Clement Smith's 1947 study that prompted it,122 examined the effects of enforced starvation on fertility factors and children born during and after the Dutch transportation strike that was staged in defiance of Nazi occupation from September 1944 until liberation in May 1945. Stein and coworkers returned to Holland in 1969 and examined compulsory military records to explore the long-term consequences of the famine on boys born at various points during the crisis.123 Neither Stein's or Smith's studies explore the religious responses to the starvation of the "hunger winter," although they do make occasional comments. Religion was important in Dutch culture and "religious organizations not only operated social, health and educational institutions, but also played a major part in combating the famine."124 Social and health services were entrusted largely to voluntary associations that were often organized by respective religious groups; all associations were funded by the government and accountable to the state health authorities. A study of the documents from these religious groups, if they still exist, as well as transcriptions of any extant sermons preached in relation to the crisis, would make a fascinating study. Stein's research on the records from a sample of two thousand boys born at various points during the famine winter found no long-term effects of this short-term starvation on mental status, that is, intellectual performance. However, the births themselves represented a select group of survivors: it is well known that famine lowers

120. E.g. J.H.P. Jonxis, "Nutritional Status of Dutch Children in Wartime," Nutrition Reviews 4 (1946): 97-99; E. Kerpel-Fronius, "Infantile Mortality in Budapest in the Year 1945," / Peds 30 (1947): 244-49; Emmanuel LeRoy Ladurie, "Famine Amenorrhea," in Biology of Man in History: Selections from the Annales, ed. Robert Forster and Orest Ranum, (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1975) 16378; A. M. Prentice et al., "Metabolic Consequences of Fasting during Ramadam in Pregnant and Lactating Women," Human Nutrition: Clinical Nutrition -yjC (1983): 283-94; M. D. Ribeiro et al., "Prenatal Starvation and Maternal Blood Pressure near Delivery," American Journal of Clinical Nutrition 35 (1982): 535-41; G.I.M. Swyer, "Nutrition and Human Fertility," British Journal of Nutrition 3 (1949): 100107. For studies on adapting to long-term deprivation, see David E. Barrett and Deborah A Frank, The Effects of Undemutrition on Children's Behavior, Food and Nutrition in History and Anthropology 6 (Philadelphia: Gordon and Breach, 1987) and Partha Das Gupta and Debraj Ray, "Adapting to Undernourishment: The Biological Evidence and Its Implications," in The Political Economy of Hunger, ed. Jean Dreze and Amartya Sen (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990), 1.191-246. 121. Stein, Zena, Mervyn Susser, Gerhart Saenger, Francis Marolla, Famine and Human Development: The Dutch Hunger Winter 0/^3944-45 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1975). 122. C. A. Smith, "Effects of Maternal Undernutrition upon the Newborn Infant in Holland (194445)", /. Peds 30 (1947): 229-43. 123. Such a study was possible only because of the availability of careful records, a relatively stable population, and the eager cooperation of government authorities for whom this information was of great political interest. A similar study on girls was impossible due to the lack of comparable compulsory military records. 124. Stein et al., Famine in Human Development, 40.

90 The Hungry Are Dying conception rates.125 This suggests that the lower performance of underfed children may relate more to concurrent health and environmental factors than inadequate nutrition during pregnancy.126 In fact, the only long-term debility that could be definitively linked to prenatal starvation was a higher prevalence of neurologic anomalies, such as spina bifida, hydrocephalus, and cerebral palsy. Of those infants conceived at the height of the famine, exposed to starvation during the first trimester, there was a higher incidence of miscarriage, premature birth with subsequent demise due to low birth weight, and an increased incidence of meningitis in those who survived.127 Those born during the famine itself, with adequate prenatal care but a poor neonatal environment, suffered extremely high infant mortality.128 These deaths may well "select out" those infants whose mental status was affected by the starvation. In all cases social class played a role "with the lowest class affected most,"129 apparently because these did not have options for alternative food resources above the starvation-level rations. The Dutch hunger study is critically important for its findings on the effect of starvation in the prenatal and neonatal stages but does not address the effect of famine on non-childbearing adults. For a complement to the Dutch study, therefore, one may look at the physical starvation of adults similarly affected by this enforced deprivation in political crisis. One such study was conducted by a group of physicians in the Warsaw ghetto, who chose in 1942 to focus their research on their own immediate reality. Their description of the starving body represents both the voice of the observer and the voice of the starving, those who had no expectation of relief, or even survival: With prolonged hunger, . . . the patients experience general weakness and the inability to sustain even the smallest physical effort, and are unwilling to work. They remain in bed all day, covered because they always feel cold, most acutely in the nose and the extremities. They become apathetic and depressed, and lack initiative. They do not remember their hunger, but when shown bread, meat, or sweets they become very aggressive, grab the food, and devour it at once, even though they may be beaten for it and have no strength to run away. Toward the end of hunger disease the only complaint is complete exhaustion. . . . In the late stages edema affects the whole body [and] . . . there are complaints of aches and pains in the ribs, the sternum, the pelvis, and the lower extremities, and of nervousness and anxiety, but few psychic abnormalities. Women miss their menstrual periods and are sterile. Men are impotent and the few children who are born die within a few weeks. . . . By simply observing these patients one can see their characteristic posture, . . . just like a fetus in the womb.. . .B0

125. Attributed variously to wartime separation of couples, lack of desire due to exhaustion and hormone imbalance, and the widespread prevalence of "famine amenorrhea" resulting from critical loss of body fat, substantial change in body weight, and stress. 126. Stein et al., Famine and Human Development, 10. 127. Ibid., 229. 128. Ibid., 232. 129. Ibid., 236. 130. Winick, Hunger Disease, 14-15.

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The Warsaw description in many ways matches the physiological detail of Basil's description of those whose starvation he sought to alleviate. Although the differences between the purposes of the two texts cannot be overstated, in both cases the description of the body of the starving is deliberately constructed as a ritual record, or chronicle of involuntary sacrifice by those who have paid the consequences of others' social choices, and thus an indirect moral indictment against those who had the power to provide relief and refused. Corporate Starvation: The Social Body A number of anthropological studies may shed further light on the Cappadocian context by exploring the way social dynamics change as a society progresses through the various stages of starvation. Anthropologist Robert Dirks has explored unifying, cross-cultural features in the process of response to famine and food shortage.131 Although his study was criticized for focusing on the dynamics during the famine, rather than cause or solution,132 precisely this focus lends historical interest to his work. While Dirks limits his observations to twentieth-century famines, his work offers a model for cultural interactions during the actual food shortage of use to historical studies of famines. Dirks's Stages Dirks identifies a diversity of famine responses, which he explains in diachronic terms, arguing that people respond to market shortage and starvation differently at different points in the process. He categorizes these diverse responses into three recognized stages of famine-response: alarm, resistance, and exhaustion.133 During the alarm stage, Dirks argues, "[starvation increases sensitivity to environmental change." There is "abnormal excitement," which includes altruistic sharing, increased gregariousness (which later decreases), as well as speculative hoarding, panic buying, and mass emigration. Political unrest is most likely during the alarm phase. Religious behavior may also be accelerated: "[T]he performance of ritual tends to increase during the initial phase of famine. Victims of disaster often view it as a consequence of mystical disturbance, and government authorities, acting as religious and ritual leaders, frequently take extraordinary steps to bring relief supernaturally."134 Basil's Homily 8 seems in many places to speak to an audience at this stage. The second stage, resistance, begins as energy drains. Sustained undernutrition results in hypoactivity and the social consequences are significant. "Family bonds generally remain intact," but "individuals had less energy and willingness to cooperate when it came to group problems which were mostly unrelated to the question of food supply."135 Feasts are suspended. Visitors are suspect and food is hidden

131. Dirks, "Social Responses," 21-44. 132. See Comments by Ivan Brady in Dirks, "Social responses," 34. 133. Following the "general adaptation syndrome" found in Hans Selye, The Stress of Life (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1956); see also Hans Selye. "Perspectives in Stress Research," Perspectives in Biology and Medicine 2 (1959): 403-16. 134. Dirks, "Social responses," 27-28. 135. Ibid., 28.

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whenever someone knocks on the door. Small closed groups help maintain survival; the elderly fare worst, particularly those who live alone.136 Food shortages have a profound effect on kinship ties. Lidiya Ginzburg's essay, Blockade Diary, chronicling the starvation siege of Leningrad (1941-1944), is a classic cameo of the resistance stage and the complexity of hope that keeps people alive during starvation. She identifies the troubled function of kinship in this stage: "The first and closest degree of the social guarantee was the family, the cell of blood and existence with its inexorable demand for sacrifice. . . . Wrung with pity or cursing, people shared their bread [with family members]. Cursing they shared it and sharing they died."137 Anthropologist Elizabeth Colson has also noted this tension during a famine among the Tonga people, "Families no longer eat in the open, where their food can be seen and smelled. . . . Men, who normally never eat with their wives and children, share the family meal inside the house."138 Famine may ultimately destroy traditional ties in favor of new fictive kin. As John O'Shea and Paul Halstead point out, As a low level mechanism, kin-based networks of exchange and obligation represent a ... virtually universal response to scarcity. At higher levels of scale, real or fictive kin relations can be a powerful ideological device for initiating and maintaining exchange connections, providing a vehicle for interactions . . . beyond the normal scope of biological kinship.139

These new affiliations of sociopolitical patronage may, as Dirks suggests, include religious kinship. Dirks remarks that this stage is notable for "an increased attraction to authority as a source of stability and control."140 People either ask for more control or submit to it more willingly as long as it is a recognized source of resources for survival and social order. Ginzburg writes, "The siege starvation was a well organized one. People knew they would receive from somebody invisible the minimum ration, at which level some lived and some died — which it was depended on the organism."141 Where relief supplies are controlled by a religious organization, Dirks notes, a "sudden increase in ritual participation and declarations of belief seems no less utilitarian, whether or not the sect explicitly uses church membership and ritual participation as qualifications for receiving food."142 The third stage, exhaustion, is marked by the collapse of all cooperative effort, including maintenance of the family unit, although "this does not happen all at once."143 It evolves gradually as personal survival becomes all-consuming. Mothers

136. Ibid., 29. 137. Lidiya Ginzburg, Blockade Diary, trans. Alan Myers (London: Harvill Press, 1995), 7-8. 138. Elizabeth Colson, "In Good Years and Bad: Food Strategies of Self-Reliant Societies," Journal of Anthropologic Research 35 (1979): 25. 139. John O'Shea and Paul Halstead, "Conclusions" in Halstead and O'Shea, eds., Bad Year Economics, 124. 140. Dirks, "Social Responses," 30. 141. Ginzburg, Blockade Diary, 71. 142. Dirks, "Social Responses," 30. 143. Ibid.

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may cease all selfless behavior and appropriate their children's rations. Children are sold or abandoned. Life is defined entirely by an individual's relationship to the starving self: "The hungry one was asked, Two plus two?' He replied, Tour breads.'"144 Resistance efforts such as market diversification cease as energy is conserved or fails. 145 Yet, Dirks argues, "individuals remain social, if only passively"146 during this stage. When not competing for food, they may sit together in groups, for hours, in silence. Ritual is one of the social behaviors abandoned. As one of Dirks's reviewers sums up the overall process, "the range of compassion is progressively decreased — from the community to the family to the individual."147 The hostility of the exhaustion phase may be aggravated during the early stages of refeeding; this is what Dirks calls "relief-induced agonism,"148 which often disrupts relief. Those refeeding Belsen survivors after World War II similarly found them "extremely particular about their diet and difficult to please . . . ," complaining alternatively about their severe diarrhea and the food they were eating.149 Selye viewed the exhaustion phase as leading in a circle, back to renewed alarm. This agonism at the end of exhaustion may also be the driving force behind the mob who rushed to the church in Nazianzus in 372 after a hailstorm demolished their first substantial crop in years, following drought and a cattle plague150 (discussed in chapter 5). It is in this phase of end-stage exhaustion where disease may attack and "it is disease, not starvation, that drives famine mortality."151 While Dirks's stages are diachronic, clearly different strata of society will progress through different stages at different times, and the same individuals may at times be in one stage (after an unexpectedly large gift of food which satiates) or another: "the well fed do not understand the starving, themselves included." 152 Hunger Typology A related tripartite concept is the "hunger typology" formulated by geographer Robert Kates and colleagues at Brown University's World Hunger Program. 153 This categorizes three different types of poverty in relation to the underlying cause of their food dilemma. The hunger typology model explores food crisis not laterally along a time line but instead vertically as it functions at each of three levels

144. Cited in Ai'da Kanafani-Zahar, " 'Whoever Eats You Is No Longer Hungry, Whoever Sees You Becomes Humble': Bread and Identity in Lebanon," trans. Davina Eisenberg, Food and Foodways 7 (!999). 49145. Colson, "In Good Years and Bad," 26. 146. Dirks, "Social responses," 30. 147. Ibid., 36. As suggested here, Dirks's paper concludes with comments from fourteen reviewers and Dirks's response (32-39). 148. Ibid., 40. 149. Mollison, "Observations on Cases of Starvation at Belsen," 5. 150. GNaz, Or. 16. 151. A. DeWaal, "Famine Mortality: A Case Study of Darfnr, Sudan 1984-85," Population Studies 43 (1989): 5-24, cited in Ellen Messer, "Hunger Vulnerability from an Anthropologist's Food System Perspective," in Transforming Societies, Transforming Anthropology, ed. Emilio F. Moran (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1996), 250. 152. Ginzburg, Blockade Diary, 75. 153. Messer, "Hunger vulnerability," esp. 242-58.

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in the social pyramid: that of the region, the household, and the individual. A region (or community) may be "food short," lacking absolute resources due to environment, politics, or other socioeconomic factors. This is a market poverty. On the household level hunger may follow from being "food poor." Here the household lacks the necessary resources to acquire sufficient food even if there is no regional shortage. Finally, poverty on the individual level is that of being "food deprived." This poverty is the micronutrient (calories, protein, vitamins, minerals, etc.) imbalance of malnutrition. It may exist for the socially powerless even within a household with adequate resources. Each of these three "bodies" —the individual, household, and community — is poor in its particular way because of a powerlessness to control the next higher level, with communal food shortage a consequence of environmental or political helplessness. Stages in Famem et siccitatem All three types of poverty may be operative in Basil's famine text. The drought has caused a communal food shortage. Households may be food poor because of market speculation, usury, and inadequate reserves. Individuals may be separated from both household and community; adults starve in the fields and roads while infants cry within hearing distance of the church. All three of Dirks's stages may also be operative in this text. Basil's description of acute starvation in Homily 8 suggests that many had already reached the exhaustion phase, but the context of a religious meeting gathered explicitly for corporate penance identifies those who attend as in the alarm or resistance phase, gathering to "bring relief supernaturally" (alarm phase) and, at least for those present, manifesting "an increased attraction to authority as a source of stability and control," (resistance phase), although Basil suggests that it is a distracted attention. While Homily 8 seems to belong to the later phase, when the famine effects have become unmistakably manifest in the human body, its tone better matches the early phase of alarm, which may be where those well-fed members of the congregation have suddenly found themselves: "Those stockpiling gold quickly become pale like it, and like bread which they held in disdain until yesterday or the day before, since it was readily obtainable."154 Both the reference to speculative hoarding155 and Basil's active role in taking what might be called "extraordinary steps to bring relief supernaturally" fit well with Dirks's alarm stage. Possibly Basil himself is here operating —at least rhetorically —from the alarm phase while the congregation, living a less monastic life with less political power and access to food resources, has long ago passed into the resistance phase, and those mourning in the fields or lying in the roads, the poorest, felt the effects of the famine first and are now well into exhaustion. Dirks' system is intended to measure social behavior, not literary accounts. While the sermon may describe behavior, it does so through a particular lens. Basil's Homily 6, demanding that the rich make their hoarded grain available to the populace, lacks the tone of alarm that pervades Homily 8, which suggests either

154. PC 31.3130. 155. PG 31.3096.

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that it was preached before destitution reached its visible worst, or that it was preached later, when alarm was less acute and the rich were well entrenched in resistance, perhaps as winter followed, since Basil tells his audience, "The hungry are dying before your face; the naked are stiff with cold."1'6 The sermon is a behavior, after all, functioning within its own self-defined stages. Its tone reflects not so much any "actual" audience anxiety but rather that anxiety the homilist intends to evoke.

Starvation, Ceremony, and Relief To give grain that is usually sold, as Basil here demands, is to enter into what is essentially a ceremonial exchange such as that described in Mauss's work, discussed in the introduction. Basil's donation of grain to the destitute thus takes on ceremonial significance where the meaning of the gift is in fact more important than its measurable effect, and "ceremonial exchange is less concerned with the goods themselves than with the social relations generated by the interaction,"157 although Basil's gift is described as profoundly significant for the presumed measurable relief he intended. Thus economy becomes ritual, and although the ritual meaning of the donated grain is defined within a specific set of biblical images and their Christian interpretation (thus in a sense making it "Christian ritual"), the social institution that functions as a channel for this economic gift exchange is that of the classical patron and tropheus. The "gift" here is imbued by Basil's rhetoric with Christian meaning, but it requires a pre-existing Graeco-Roman social ideal to be operative. What Angeliki Liaou has said of the Cappadocian references to usury is also true of their texts on food relief: "Their effort was to turn economic behavior into non-economic behavior, while preserving the vocabulary to which their society was accustomed."1'8 Anthropologist Michael Jochim contrasts ceremonial and maintenance strategies as if they are mutually exclusive, suggesting that the ceremonial exchange is primarily aimed at "reinforcing other behaviors crucial to survival and at avoiding or resolving conflict."159 But survival and ritual were not so clearly distinguished in Basil's world. Basil and Gregory's focus on literal relief of the literally starving embodies ritual meaning in this text. Mauss recognized this common social linkage in his admission that a theory of alms could easily develop from gift exchange: "Alms are the fruit of a moral notion of the gift . . . and of the notion of sacrifice."160 Indeed, for Basil civic life, paideia, and theology all involved "rituals" on which social survival depended. Thus for Basil both of Jochim's strategies are operative: in calling for material balance, Basil advocates a ceremonial exchange. It is not this gift itself, after all,

156. Basil, Horn. 6.6, trans. Toal, Sunday Sermons, 3.331. 157. Michael A. Jochim, Strategies for Survival: Cultural Behavior in an Ecological Context (New York: Academic Press, 1981), 188. 158. Angeliki E. Liaou, "The Church, Economic Thought and Economic Practice" in The Christian East, Its Institutions & Its Thought: A Critical Reflection, ed. Robert F. Taft, S.J., Orientalia Christiana Analecta 251 (Rome: Pontificio Istituto Orientale, 1996), 441. 159. Jochim, Strategies for Survival, 188. 160. Mauss, The Gift, 18.

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that guarantees human survival, but rather its administration and the resolution of related conflicts, such as usury and the bull market that is profiting from human misery. This ceremonial exchange, the donation of grain, is an exchange only if both parties receive a "gift." The poor theoretically receive food but what do the donors gain by this ritual? Basil suggests that the answer is increased power over their environment, both on earth and in the afterlife. The ritual donation effects environmental change: "Persuade the earth to fruitfulness," Basil exhorts;161 "If you [give generously] the bread . . . would become . . . a patron of mercy."162 By ceremonially surrendering their food security to the common good, the donors assert their (consequent) moral power over a higher realm: the environment itself, the cosmic body. The (hypothetically and potentially) fed body of the poor thus becomes a symbol that reinforces the community power of the rich. In terms of the "hunger typology" discussed above, this is a case of meeting the poverty at the most basic level — the individual—to gain power and restore order, which in turn prevent both other types of poverty as the alms rise, through the social strata, touching household and community on their way into heaven itself. Although Philip Rousseau suggests that Basil seems, in Homily 8, to merely "set his sights on spiritual matters, even in times of physical suffering,"163 the relationship between this exhortation to alms and ceremonial economic exchange suggests that Basil sets his sights on spiritual matters precisely by calling his audience to set their sights on the rotting, starving, lamenting, supremely physical body of the poor around them — and to do something about it. The "ceremonial exchange" Basil demands is as rich in action as any ceremony or ritual might be, although the actions are located in human participation in physical relief of poverty. "Wipe out usury!" he demands; "Distribute your surplus to the needy... even if you have only one loaf in the house"; "Destroy the prototypical sin by distributing food." He lists the ways one ought to do this, imitating Joseph: feed the old, feed your enemy, feed the suffering youth. Basil's concerns for spiritual matters do not exclude an active concern for the alleviation of very physical suffering though, as Rousseau's study explores through other texts, Basil's dominant concern is that of ordering politics and power dynamics. Michael De Vinne, as discussed in the introduction, explores this dynamic not as gift exchange but in a somewhat related concept, that of the theatrical terms of spectacle: "Because the better off throughout the Roman empire largely fail even to see the many destitute that wander through the streets of their cities, clergymen strive to render these unfortunate fully visible."164 They did this, De Vinne argues, by making them the deliberate focus, depicted in gladiatorial and theatrical terms of textual gaze: "The opened body confers a solid, insistent, undeniable reality —but only if opened eyes, surmounting their instinctual repugnance, unflinchingly engage it."165 By thus controlling and redirecting the public spectacle, he argues, bish-

161. PG 31.3130. 162. 163. 164. 165.

PG 31.3200. Rousseau, Basil ofCaesarea, 138. De Vinne, The Advocacy of Empty Bellies, iv. Ibid., 29.

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ops such as Basil, the Gregories, Ambrose, and Chrysostom "stake a strong moral claim to the mantle of civic patronage. . . . Visualized and incorporated into the civic body, the poor thus play a considerable role in the contemporary refiguring of power structures."166 Although De Vinne's study does not explore Basil's Homily 8 in detail, his thesis of spectacle is particularly relevant to it. If De Vinne's thesis is correct, then on its most elementary level the agenda of the poverty sermons was to evoke gaze, with alms as an ensuing consequence. And indeed Basil's and the Gregories' sermons on the poor force a visual awareness, using vivid images and contrasts. The desired result—acts of mercy —would follow on what was in fact the primary functional aim of the sermon: to get people to notice the poor. For De Vinne, therefore, alms thus takes a secondary place, dependent on the primary action of seeing. De Vinne suggests that embodiment begins with the gaze, and certainly Basil in Homily 8 appeals to his audience in terms of both liturgical and civic embodiment and image. As a graphic depiction of starvation, poverty, and civic contrast, Homily 8 is a particular example of the call to a theatrical gaze for the purpose of reordering civic into religious meaning. If the poor play any "considerable role in refiguring power structures," they do so only passively as verbal tools within the rhetoric of those in power, within a social dynamic defined and ordered by those who administer society itself.

Conclusion The helpless starvation of the impoverished body is a universal image of power imbalance within society, particularly societies in crisis. The Cappadocian references to starvation in Basil's Homily 8, In Famem et Siccitatem, reflect recognizable social patterns in the history of famine and starvation. The starving poor in Basil's text were those lacking even the resources of their own body as its flesh withered away. The tragedy of this inner disease of hunger was that it destroyed the body, both the individual body of the person and the interconnecting social tissue with which it was linked to the community. The poor in Basil's sermon are recipients, passive and powerless. Comparable to abandoned infants, mourning like the penitent but for sins of which it is not guilty, the hungry body in this text is one that is inappropriately forced to pay the penitential consequences of the greed of the rich. Basil's surprisingly explicit late antique text on famine weaves together images of liturgy, ceremonial exchange, economics, and civic patronage to construct a Christian meaning for the poor body in society. The spiritual value of these textually constructed poor lies in their very humanity. Corporally, they are body created, a beautiful work by the "best craftsman," fully and equally human. They are both fictive kin and part of the cosmic balance, worthy of food whether they are young, old, blood relation, or enemy. Thus the poor enter the Christian consciousness as a body that is integral to God's creation. They enter the civic and religious liturgy through Basil's homiletic call to social change. By the imagery of infancy, repentance, and redemptive almsgiving, they become liturgy itself.

166. Ibid., 124.

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The poor are here defined as rightful dependents of their patrons in the ideal civic order. They warrant traditional civic philanthropy, an obligation that the Christian texts root in scriptural references to mercy, love, and justice, while promising donors all the honor traditionally expected by Greek benefactors, although this honor is now placed eschatologically in the ultimate city of God. Throughout this progressive construct, Basil remains firmly placed in the power dynamic of the bishop-patron that Peter Brown has so elegantly described.167 Liturgical and corporal imagery here intertwines readily and constantly with the civic imagery common among the Cappadocians and late antique Greek Christian rhetoric in general. For Basil community life, love of kin, interdependence, and a complex network of social obligations were not artificial social constructs; rather, civic identity itself and community interdependence were a "natural good." In this famine sermon, Basil constructs the body of the starving, involuntary poor, individually and corporately, as a worthy dependent for whom justice demands an integral role in the civic life of the Christian community. He draws heavily on the ideals of Graeco-Roman patronage in outlining the criteria by which victims of famine warrant social assistance. He accomplishes this by constructing body images in Christian terms, particularly in his image of the penitential infant, but also by depicting the body as a locus for cosmic redemption that is within the power of the biblical tropheus, particularly following the model of Joseph. Throughout this appeal to his society to imitate God and the Old Testament heroes in both gaze and action, Basil repeatedly uses kinship images to affirm the physical and social body of its most vulnerable members. Through his use of the imagery of starvation and mourning among infants and destitute, Basil here progresses from the liturgical metaphor to the body to the city—and back again to the liturgy. For, whether or not Basil was ultimately successful in his appeal to the rich to feed the bodies of the poor, it is in his liturgical "word and advice" on famine that he builds his civic and religious image of the poor as those who hunger.

167. Brown, Power and Persuasion in Late Antiquity, 89—103.

3

Penury and Divine Gift The Poor as Fiscal Body

Am I to be sold? Am I to obtain benefit from my friend? Has it been granted to me to make a contract with another person? Shall I get the money? Am I to profit by the transaction? Is my property to be put up to auction? Shall I find a means of selling? Am I to become a beggar? Am I to get my own? Questions for an oracle, ca. 300 C.E.

r^ometime during his episcopate Basil hosted a "synod" (owoSoq), a term he uses Oto refer to any general assembly from a council of bishops to a church gathering for a martyr's festival.1 While the people were together, some of the "faithful" used the opportunity to raid the cloakroom, as it were, stealing the "cheap clothing of poor men [iumia eweXfi 7itc>x
1. Deferrari, S(. Basil: The Letters, 4.17111.5. 2. Basil, Ep. 286, in ibid., 4.177. 3. My emphasis.

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the poor who lost their cloaks? Here Basil does indeed call them ptochoi — perhaps ironically, given his understanding of ptochoi as those who are suddenly deprived — yet they were clearly "poor" before the theft, since the robes are "cheap" and their owners "should rather have been clothed." It is not entirely clear from the text that Basil was as diligent in restoring the lost garments as he was in claiming power to punish the thieves. Basil says, "I have ordered the property they stole to be received, and some of the goods to be reserved for future claims, and some to be distributed to those present." Perhaps faced with more requests than there were garments, Basil here appropriates to himself stewardship over the material goods of the poor, with the right to judge their use and those who claim to have lost them. The poor here — entirely beyond their own control —have become tools in the power dynamics of an economic "gift exchange" over the recovery of what they may rightfully view as their own:4 To retrieve their cloaks, they must convince Basil or his representatives that they were indeed present at the event. While chapter 2 explored the poor in terms of hunger, and chapter 4 will explore them in terms of disease, this chapter discusses the fiscal or economic concepts that characterize the poor in these sermons, focusing particularly on Basil's texts. Fiscal poverty, characterized by inadequate material goods and a deficit in market power, is the most commonplace meaning of poverty in any age. What is of particular interest in Basil's construct of this poverty is not so much that he shares this universal concept, as the way he uses it: in an economy where market power is dominated by political gift exchange, and in a world where the church is actively appropriating economic language toward the perceived goal of restoring true social "justice." In Basil's Homilies 6 and 7, and his so-called second homily on Psalm 14 (hereafter HPsi^b), and in certain of the Gregories' texts, one finds the poor defined in recurrent concepts evoking images of sale and gift. This chapter will explore this construct of the poor as fiscal body, lacking power over the social marketplace, just as the hungry body is characterized by lack of power over the body's own substance, and illness (as discussed in chapter 4) is characterized by a lack of power over civic participation and health. The fiscal body is constructed in these texts in two ways, first in contrast with wealth, and second, by their bondage to debt. In both images the poor are victims of the rich, and thus these are also inevitably sermons about wealth; Basil's Homily 6 preaches specifically against hoarding grain, and both his Homily 7 and Gregory of Nazianzus's poetic diatribe against greed and avarice castigate "the rich" for their oppressive practices. The first half of this chapter will explore these texts, focusing

4. Basil is not always so ready to take complete charge of troubling and needy groups that expect his help. In Ep. 315 a relative, a "lady of the utmost propriety" who is in charge of "some orphans and a house more troublesome than a many-headed hydra," is referred to a third party whom Basil begs to "give her some aid, so as to make her possession of the orphans endurable to ourselves in the future." (trans. Deferrari, St. Basil: The Letters 4.257; my emphasis). Might she be the same widow Basil addresses in Ep. 283, who has written to him asking for a meeting with him to discuss a "multitude of anxieties.... in the care of one household"? Basil there refers to his own anxious cares about an upcoming "synod" and suggests that they may arrange a meeting then to further discuss her concerns.

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particularly on Basil's appeal to the ideal "gift exchange" of godly patronage: redemptive almsgiving. Basil uses strong communal and rhetorical imagery in describing the ideal koinonia of the Christian polis, and this is particularly evident in his correspondence with Amphilochius and in the language of the sixth chapter of the "first homily on Psalm 14," a text whose authenticity is sometimes questioned but seems —at least in its sixth and final chapter —entirely consonant with Basil's language of poverty, community, and citizenship. The second half of the chapter will focus on the dynamic of debt in the fiscal identity of Roman antiquity and the imagery Basil uses to rewrite debt language, as it relates to poverty, for a Christian economy. Usurious debt is the focus of Basil's HPs^b, a homily against usury, a sermon Ambrose freely paraphrases in his sermon against usury, De Tobia, and on which Gregory of Nyssa depends in his own sermon on the same subject, preached after Basil's death and discussed further later. Finally, Basil frequently appeals to biblical types as ideal models in his moral defense of fiscal relief, and Joseph's famine relief in Egypt is a recurrent theme in Cappadocian references to the ideal tropheus and patron. The end of the chapter briefly explores this Joseph-related imagery. The contrast in these texts — between the wealthy, greedy lender and the poor who are victimized by the rich and their own bad economic choices — effectively defines the poor negatively. Yet the special identity and power of the poor to effect redemptive almsgiving is for the Cappadocians a positive and central theme that runs through all of these sermons, constructing the poor as fiscal body by their power to effect the exchanges of eternity. This was evident to some degree in Basil's imagery of the starving poor, but it is a much more dominant theme in his homilies on fiscal poverty and in the Gregories' three sermons on the poor. This construct goes beyond the simple comparison between the accumulation of wealth and the downward economic spiral of perpetual debt. The Cappadocians bring the poor into the "market economy" of Christian society by linking this image of the imminently destitute debtor to three positive themes. The first is the way in which the poor enable theosis; that is, the donor who helps the poor with generous gifts imitates God's generosity and thus participates in God's nature.5 The second is a concern with the image of incarnation, particularly the poor themselves as the body of Christ. The third is the use of kinship and citizenship language in evoking appeals to grant the poor material entitlement and even human "rights" on the basis of this relational image. These themes are bound closely together in these texts. While the positive image of fellowcitizenship and the negative censure of wealth and debt are most dominant in Basil, the appeal to imagery of divine gift, theosis, incarnation, and kinship is perhaps most clearly expressed by the Gregories and will be discussed further in chapter 4. While Basil frequently appeals to social "equality" and sharing of goods, the Gregories most actively use language evoking the concept of "human rights." All three authors proceed from this imagery to emphasize the gift exchange of redemptive almsgiving.

5. For a brief overview of the theological concept of theosis, see Timothy Ware, The Orthodox Church: New Edition (New York: Penguin Books, 1993), 231-38.

1O2 The Hungry Are Dying

Fiscal Penury and Unjust Wealth: Basil's Homies 6 and 7 Basil's sermons, Homilia in illud: Destruam horrea mea (Horn, 6) and Homilia in divites (Horn, j),6 condemn wealth and depict poverty in images of social injustice that may be adapted to any age and context. They were popular patristic texts, translated into Syriac, Armenian, Georgian, and Arabic within a few centuries.7 The two sermons are almost always found sequentially adjacent in the manuscript collections of Basil's sermons, in contrast to Homily 8 which is placed independently, in no clear relation to any of the other sermons, and often near or at the end of the MSS. In those MSS where Basil's sermons on the psalms, usually kept separate, are interleaved with the other homilies, the homilies on Psalm 14 often immediately follow Homilies 6 and 7, strongly suggesting that the monks and clergy who assembled or inherited these collections indeed perceived a relationship between these texts on fiscal poverty and wealth. Homily 6: "I Will Pull Down My Bams" Basil's sermon on Luke 12:18 probably represents his homiletic efforts to open the local granaries at some point during the famine. In preaching about the story of the rich man who said, "I will pull down my barns" to build a larger storehouse rather than consider his own mortality, Basil says,"Beware of waiting for a famine before you open up your barns.... [D]o not look to a famine to make money, nor to the common want for your private gain. . . . Do not try to make money out of the anger of God (6.3). . . . What keeps you from giving now?" (6.6).8 Fedwick,9 following Bernardi,10 dates this sermon to the spring or summer of 369; spring seems more likely because he refers to the "cold" weather. The need depicted in this sermon is great, but it has not yet precipitated into the crisis proportions of famine described in Homily 8. The Greek words Basil uses in this sermon to depict the poor include derivatives of penes as well as terms like needy (evSefji;), brother in need, and hungry. Basil does not use ptochos in this text. Basil addresses his audience using frank epideictic oratory, expressing and attempting to evoke pathos as Aristotle recommended it,11 "to enhance belief in certain moral and civic values and thus to increase social bonding and the solidarity of the cultural group."12 These are sermons in the form of blame, appealing to cultural standards of honor and shame.

6. For the critical edition of Horn. 6 and 7, see Yves Courtonne, Saint Basile: Homelies sur la richesse: Edition critique et exegetique (Paris: Firmin-Didot, 1935). 7. For details on Basil's manuscript tradition, I depend on Rudberg, Etudes sur la tradition manuscrite de saint Basile; Fedwick, "The Translations of the Works of Basil Before 1400" in idem, Basil ofCaesarea Christian, Humanist, Ascetic, 2.439-512; and most recently idem, Bibliotheca Basiliana Vniversalis [=BBV|. A Study of the Manuscript Traditions of the Works of Basil ofCaesarea. 4 vols., Corpus Christianorum (Turnhout: Brepols, 1993-1999). 8. English translations from Horn. 6 are those of Toal, Sunday Sermons, 3.325-32. 9. Fedwick, "A Chronology of the Life and Works of Basil ofCaesarea," 1.142. zo. Bernardi, La predication, 61. 11. Arist., Rh. 2.2.11. 12. Kennedy, A New History of Classical Rhetoric, 22.

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Here Basil describes the poor as men11 unjustly deprived of material goods and social power and addresses his audience as the rich who actively deprive the poor of grain, deliberately intent to make a profit while depriving the poor of all that they have. The hoarder is eager to prevent his overflowing barns from bringing any blessing to those in want (6:1). The rich are like gluttons "who would rather burst themselves eating than leave a crumb for the hungry" (6:2), "in dread lest other men should have a share in the fruits you possess . . . you take thought how you may deprive all others. . . . " Those who hoard, Basil says, are bitter, full of unyielding greed. They ignore the injunctions of Scripture: You turn away from those you meet lest you be forced to let even a morsel escape your clutches. You have only one phrase: "I have nothing to give; I am a poor man." You are indeed poor; and in need of every good. You are poor in love for your fellow man; poor in humanity; poor in faith in God; poor in the hope of eternity! Make your brothers sharers of your grain; and what may wither tomorrow, give to the needy today. For it is greed of the most horrible kind, to deny to the starving even what you must soon throw away!14

Perhaps his most vivid image is that of the slave market, to which a father must sell his beloved children for the price of food to feed the rest of the family. "How then can I put before your eyes the sufferings of the poor?" Basil asks in 6.4, as he launches into this community market image, describing the homes of the poor as characterized by inanimate objects that have less market value than the human lives inhabiting them in need. The poor either suffer the wrongful loss of social possessions for the sake of survival, or die. "The hungry are dying. . . . The naked are stiff with cold. The man in debt is held by the throat" (6.6) "How can I put before your eyes the sufferings of the poor, that you may know from what agony you gather in wealth?" Basil asks again at the end of his sermon (6.8). Here he answers the question with a biblical example, the judgment in Matthew 25:34-43, reminding the rich of their biblical choices: either "make your riches the price of your redemption," or else be condemned as unjust stewards. In this parallel use of the same question, followed by first a civic and then a divine answer, Basil may draw on the excessive fear of the poor he perceives in his rich audience to construct the poor as agents of God's justice. They threaten indeed, but not, Basil suggests, on the social level that may be driving the rich to retentive anxiety. Rather, the true threat is far more menacing: eternal judgment against those who refuse to risk their wealth to alleviate suffering. While the poor may have been viewed by many as outside the realm of civic obligations, both Basil and the Gregories uniformly depict them within the natural world, reflecting the creator, who models cosmic love by means of a natural order of things, demanding of the creation an active imitation and reflection of the divine treatment of nature in terms of care, nurture, and disinterested investment. For Basil,

13. Basil mentions poor women explicitly only in Horn. 8, and there briefly at best. For a study on Basil's perception of gender, see Verna E. F. Harrison, "Male and Female in Cappadocian Theology," JTS 41 (1990): 441-71. 14. Basil, Horn. 6.6, trans. Toal, Sunday Sermons, 3.331; PG 3i.2y6A.

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the natural world is a model of justice, kindness, and universal generosity which ought to be imitated, in sharp contrast to the prevailing civic disorder. When Basil explains the failure of the crops, as in Homily 8, he always defines it in terms of human sin that causes nature to act against its nature. Similarly, the body of the poor is depicted as one that is disordered from what it ought to be by its deprivation and by suffering and affliction. Basil rarely blames the poor themselves for their situation15. In fact, where Basil admonishes the rich to imitate the generous earth, the poor are by association compared to the earth with its capacity to yield for the sower more than is sown: "As the wheat that falls to the earth gives increase to the one who has thrown it there, so the bread that you give to the hungry will later bring you a great gain" (6.3) Imitate God, Basil says in 6.1, whose goodness extends to just and unjust. Imitate Joseph "in proclaiming the love of fellow man" (6.2), and imitate the earth itself: as it bears fruit not for sterility but to serve others, so the one who has grain ought not to behave less generously than senseless creation. The disorder of poverty, reducing one to the level of a beast, is therefore a disordering of the natural state. This appeal to the natural world for moral examples does not imply that nature is irenic, as Basil's use of animal models in the Hexaemeron demonstrates well. There he compares the greed offish who feed one another with "the man who, impelled by devouring greed, swallows the weak in the folds of his insatiable avarice."16 The crab's attack on the oyster is "the image of him who craftily approaches his brother, takes advantage of his neighbor's misfortunes" (Hex. 7.3). The vicious conjugal union of the viper with the sea lamprey may be used to argue either that women ought to remain faithful to abusive husbands or to argue, conversely, against "the adulterous violation of nature" (Hex. 7.3); Basil does not say which interpretation he prefers, only that his goal is "edification." He regards the example of the crow protecting the migration of storks, as it was believed, as a model of hospitality, and the industry of the swallow who survives on mud, straw, and string "ought to warn you not to take to evil ways on account of poverty; and even if you are reduced to the last extremity not to lose all hope; not to abandon yourself to inaction and idleness" (Hex. 8.5). The example of the silkworm (or perhaps butterfly) ought to remind women, as they sit and weave silk, to contemplate the doctrine of the resurrection (Hex. 8.8). Even locusts "do not attack crops until they have received the divine command" (Hex. 8.7), and the gratitude of the dog ought to "shame all who are ungrateful to their benefactors" (Hex. 9.4). Basil shares the view of the classical philosophers who regarded the natural world as both a model of divine order and a warning of the "bestial" nature that is from the human perspective immoral and unjust. Homily j: "Concerning Those Who Are Rich" Basil's Homilia in divites (Horn. 7), is a challenge to the rich that takes as its text Jesus's dialogue with the rich young man in Matthew I9:i6ff. Although this sermon is usually linked with Homily 6, there is no internal evidence for any particular date, 15. Although Gregory of Nazianzus says that some of his audience do blame the poor for their circumstance. See discussion in chapter 4. 16. Basil, Hex. 7.3, trans. Blomfield Jackson NPNF 2 8.91.

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and no reference to weather or specific temporal, social, or environmental issues. The language of poverty, when it occurs here, is again characterized in traditional images of need. Again the poor are called penetes, "needy", and "hungry" as well as "oppressed." The image in Homily 7 suggests a more socially displaced group than those of Homily 6. Therefore it is not surprising that Basil does use ptochos seven times in this sermon, although in each occurrence he is either quoting from the New Testament or putting the word into the mouth of his audience. Again he speaks to the rich in an epideictic address of blame and moral appeal. The dominant theme of Homily 7 is the relationship of the wealthy person to his wealth, rather than to the body of the poor. Despite Basil's many references to the poor, they really do not exist in this text except as a contrast. Retained wealth, Basil suggests, is the cause of all civic unrest and corruption; further, it is proof of injustice. In replying to his audience's (purported) claim that they do indeed love their neighbors as themselves, he says: If your claims were true, namely that you observed from your youth the commandment of love, according to each an equal portion with yourself, from where do you derive this abundance? The care of the needy is an expensive undertaking. Even if each receives only the little his need requires, nevertheless all distribute these goods even as they provide for themselves. Consequently, the one who loves his neighbor as himself possesses nothing in excess of his neighbor's. However, you obviously have many possessions. . . . Clearly your wealth and superabundance indicates a lack of charity. . . . If you had clothed the naked, if you had shared your bread with the hungry and opened the doors to strangers, if you had become a father for orphans", if you commiserated with all those in dire straits, what regrets would you have had about money in handing over what you have left, if you had long been concerned about distributing to the needy?17

Insofar as Basil's view on material wealth here relates to his construct of the poor, his advice seems to assume a basic construct of the poor as body. Injustice consists of depriving or denying the poor person the basic material goods that all physical bodies require for comfort, health, and community life: clothes, food, shelter, land, stability, economic autonomy (in terms of freedom from debts), and freedom from imposed physical pain (beatings, torture). Poverty is "the lack of a thousand things," Basil says in 7.5, and it is therefore wrong for either the poor or the rich to be in need. Yet the insatiable needy desires of the rich in turn worsen the needs of the poor. This insatiable greed "has no respect for time, no knowledge of limits. . . . [H]e imitates the violence of fire. . . . [H]e devours completely." Thus only by renouncing their wrongful "needs" may the rich effectively satisfy the legitimate needs of the poor. There is a double paradox operative here, one overt and one unstated. Basil overtly declares that at death one gets to keep only what one gave to the poor. What he does not state, however, is that the ultimate power of almsgiving is that the donor retains social — and spiritual — power, over both his wealth and the poor. This silent concern with retaining power by releasing goods echoes Graeco-Roman euergetism and may also suggest anxiety over the potential upheaval of a social order if the poor are

17. Basil, Horn. 7.1; PG ji.zSiBC; all translations from this sermon are mine.

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not quieted in some way. Involuntary poverty permits a body, by simply existing as a witness to injustice, to bar a rich man from eternal life. But wealth exchanged for alms and voluntary poverty ultimately gains the greater power. There seems to be a clear economic class consciousness at work here, and the value of the poor is, as in Homily 6, incidental to the value of the rich man's soul. In 7.5, Basil charges his greedy audience with behavior that exceeds the force of the natural world: "To serve mankind the creator of the universe has endowed the bird of Seleucia with an insatiable appetite. But you render your soul insatiable to the disservice of human beings." In 7.7, he describes those impassioned with gems as being "like pregnant women who nibble at gravel. You, however, being gourmets, wish shiny stones. . . . " And right divestment of wealth does not lead to need: You need wealth to wear expensive clothing? Why, a tunic of two-cubits' length is enough . . . to fulfill all your needs for a wardrobe. Will you spend your wealth on food? One loaf will fulfill [the needs of] your stomach. Why such distress? Of what are you deprived? Of the renown wealth brings? If you do not seek earthly honor, you will surely attain it in the kingdom of heaven. It is vain to have wealth and not profit from it in the long run. . . . What will you tell the judge, you who cover your walls but not the human being? . . . You who can easily leave alone both your wheat and those who starve? You who bury your gold but scorn those who are hanged?18

Not all of Basil's audience have children or heirs (7.8), and some of these childless rich, he suggests, may be promising that in their will they will leave their wealth to the poor. Basil's argument against this seems to play on a well-recognized corruption in the probate process, making it unlikely that even a genuine charitable intent in a legal document would effectively reach the poor:19 You wait until you are no longer among men to become their friend? . . . Great thanks for your generosity! And in fact, what can a dead person do? . . . There is no place for piety once life is over... . You promise benefits with paper and ink, but who will announce your death? Who will pay for your funeral? . . . The one who guards your hoard will dispose all according to his own interests, thwarting your wishes. . . . Even when [the will] is clearly cosigned and you have declared it in a clear voice, only one added letter is enough to undo all your wishes: one altered seal, two or three false witnesses, and, lo and behold, your whole estate is in other hands.20

Such is Basil's confidence in the local judicial system of his day. Wealth, he argues, perpetuates injustice even after death; better to divest of surplus in the present. The definition of surplus was clearly open to debate between the bishop, who sought to distribute it, and the rich citizens in his audience, who held the keys to the granaries and to the property of the poor.

18. Ibid. 7.2 and 7.4, selections; PC 31.284A, z88C. Instead of "hanged" one may also read "strangled," possibly those punished for theft or as debtors. 19. As Gregory of Nazianzus suggests actually happened with his brother, Caesareus; for discussion see Raymond Van Dam, "Self-Representation in the Will of Gregory of Nazianzus," /TS NS 46 (1995): 118-48. 20. Basil, Horn. 7.8; PC 31.3008-3010, selections.

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Patronage and Redemptive Almsgiving in Homilies 6 and j In these texts Basil often seems more concerned about social administration than theology. Even his construction of the theological argument that dangles heavenly reward before his hearers in exchange for the solidly biblical concept of redemptive almsgiving is developed in language of Roman civic patronage and benefaction. While an argument for almsgiving as a redemptive financial exchange may seem to minimize the human value of the poor who benefit in the "here and now" — a human value elsewhere strongly defended in these homilies — Basil in fact seems to seek to raise them to humanity in a society that did not traditionally view them in this way. To do this he deliberately manipulates the Graeco-Roman ideal of public action as a form of immortality and a means for honor, a way of obtaining recognition from those segments of society that one most values. The concept of redemptive almsgiving fits well within this structure, as the Christian patron now aligns his social membership beyond the tangible community to the ideal society, the "Kingdom of God." As the heavenly city replaces the local community politics and civic order, the poor become the building blocks of that new society and alms replace edifices. As Archbishop Oscar Romero put it in the sermon he preached six weeks before his assassination, "It is the poor who tell us what the polls is."21 This is possible only if the "telling" is in the cultural language of those who hold power over the particular polls in question. In Homily 6, Basil uses the bait of redemptive almsgiving as an explicit motivator, repeatedly reiterating the theme. "Let the goal of your tilling be the beginning of your heavenly sowing: 'sow for yourselves in justice' [Hosea 10:12]." In 6.3, he writes: The glory that is born of good works you carry back to the Lord where, standing before our common Judge all the people shall call you their nourisher and their benefactor. . . . Do you not see those at the theater, at the public contests, at the fights with beasts, those who scatter their wealth for the sake of applause from the common people around them, of those whose very appearance is abhorrent? And you are mean and grasping in spending the little by which you may attain to such endless glory?22

Basil appeals to the common good: "When [wells] are in disuse they grow foul. And so do riches grow useless, left idle and unused in any place; but moved about and passing from one person to another, they serve the common advantage and bear fruit" (6.5). . . . [Your grain] "is not your own —but for common use of all. You were born naked. Why are you rich, this other man poor? Is it not solely that you may earn the rewards of compassion, of good and faithful administration, and that [the poor person] may be honored with the glorious rewards of patience?" (S.y)23

21. Oscar Romero, The Voice of the Voiceless: The Four Pastoral Letters and Other Statements, trans. Michael J. Walsh (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1985), 177, quoted in Robert Atwell, Celebrating the Saints: Daily Spiritual Readings for the Calendar of the Church of England (Norwich: Canterbury Press, 1998), 99. 22. Basil, Horn. 6.3, trans. Toal, Sunday Sermons, 3.327-28; PG 31.265D-268A. 23. Ibid. Adapted from Toal, Sunday Sermons, 3.329, 331-32; PG 31.2726, 276(3; my emphasis.

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While Basil draws heavily from the Old Testament in both Homilies 6 and 7, the allusions use Scripture as "proof texts" with little or no exegetical commentary.24 In Homily j, as in Homily 6, Basil builds the greater bulk and strength of his moral appeal to redemptive almsgiving. In 7.1, Basil reassures his audience that almsgiving is "the one action which would open to you the doors of heaven. . . . Do you realize that in giving your gold, your money, your fields, that is to say rocks and earth, you acquire life eternal?" In 7.3 he says, "I know many who fast, pray, mourn and practice admirably all the gratuitous forms of piety, but they do not give an obol to the outcasts. What good do the other virtues do them? They will not enter into the kingdom of heaven." In 7.9 he enjoins, "Prepare your tomb. Piety is the beautiful shroud. Put on all your wealth; dress up; keep it with you." Basil clearly addresses his audience as landowners, married men whose possessions suggest affluence. The greed of wealth "drives away cattle, labor, sowing, mows down the earth which does not belong to it" (7.5). The fall of the greedy into damnation is depicted in terms of civic disorder. In 7.5, he describes this oppression as it affects those who own land the rich seek to gain for themselves. "Do you not allege a thousand reasons to usurp the goods of your neighbor?" he accuses. Using as stooges and agents those whom they have already victimized into debt, the rich "inflict injustices" on those around them: What neighborhood, what friendship, what business can go on with them without falling under the blow of their maltreatment? . . . The rich man drives away cattle, labor, sowing; mows down the earth which does not belong to him. If you resist you are cut down. If you complain they serve legal notice on you. You are stopped, thrown into prison. There are informers there who endanger your life. You will be happy if you can get out by giving over the last bit you have.25

These images are matched, almost point by point, in Gregory of Nazianzus's poetic diatribe, Adversus opem amantes. Nazianzen similarly addresses an imaginary interlocutor, charging: You allow no one to be your neighbor. You seek to acquire a field: this one next door is not yours. The situation is an injustice! . . . I find in you a creditor who realizes his capital right away: [You threaten the poor landowner of this desired property with false accusations,] tortures, prison; the poor seeks to save his skin. He yields up everything, wishing to end the situation. . . . [You tell him:] "Your cattle have harmed mine." [He says,] "What harm, tell me?" [You reply,] "why, it has bellowed [too] loud . . . [and] the shadow of your trees block the light of mine. Your slave has trespassed on my land. Give up resisting me or a witness will prove my claims in court." And so it goes: the cattle, the slave, the little garden. This is tyranny. . . . Assuming the role of a patron, he prevents other people from doing any evil and pa-

24. Horn. 6 includes such passages as Prov. 3:3, 3:20, 3:27, 11:26, 27:1, Ps. 61:11, Hosea 10:12, and Isa. 58.7. In Horn. 7 he cites Ps. 111:9, Prov- 27;2O> 30:16, Eccles. 1:8, Isaiah 5:8 and 58:7. Only Naboth (i Kings 21:1) is explicitly discussed, briefly, as a biblical warning of the consequence of the rich man's greed. He also refers to "the Ecclesiast" in Horn, j, quoting Eccles. 2:18 and 5:13 as yet another brief warning, in this case against trusting wealth to one's successors. 25. Basil, Horn. 7.5; PG 31.293A-296A, selections.

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tronizes them by reducing them to slavery.26 . . . Your granaries of wheat are always full. You profit from inclement weather. . . . Alas, alas, you make the misfortunes of the poor an occasion to harvest money. You derive fruit from the misfortunes of others, from their extremity you gain new property.27

The commonalities between Basil and Gregory are clear in these parallel images of one small landowner victimized by his more powerful neighbor. Even the ironic allusions are similar; in 11.116-17, for example, Gregory says the rich "accumulate interest and nourish interest with new interest, and you are ever carrying this interest on your fingers," referring, as Basil and Ambrose state less poetically, to the costly rings the rich wear, rings with stones that might generate enough revenue to feed a city's starving people. While Basil and Gregory both concern themselves with threatening the rich man with the last judgment and eschatological loss, they both seek to make a more positive appeal as well. In describing the rewards of alms, Basil says, "If the joy does not lure you, then I am preaching to a heart of stone."28 The "joy" of redemptive almsgiving is based essentially on these promised benefits — to the donor — of treating the poor with justice. While Basil frequently speaks as if in the voice of the poor, understanding their plight, relating to their misery, sympathizing with their profound loss and sense of violation, and even depicting the body of their sorrow, yet all of his promises are, like his threats, directed at an audience with wealth. In Homilies 6 and 7, Basil calls for justice in terms that often seem to demand radical reform, such as his frequent references to the redistribution of goods. He is not, however, out to subvert the social order, but rather to apply a social control that reflects his own view of biblical justice. This justice requires an authoritative structure capable of directing the appropriate contributions of the wealthy to their civic communities, and of discerning the motives and moral qualities of suppliants seeking aid. His appropriation of this authority is a well-recognized example of Christians rewriting late antique society to fit their own moral model, with perhaps little actual change in the way things are done, despite the application of Christian language to the civic or ideological structure out of which they are done. This is particularly clear in certain of his correspondence with Amphilochius, bishop of Iconium, in the sixth chapter of his First Sermon on Psalm 14 (HPsi^a.6), and, as it relates to debt, in his Second Homily on Psalm 14 (HPs i/fb).

Civic Imagery: Amphilochius and HPs 143 Basil's correspondence with Amphilochius reveals Basil at what may be among his most unguarded moments: human, warm, frank, and even playful as he advises the younger man on practical theological queries. Amphilochius was one of Basil's most

26. GNaz, Ac/versus opem amantes, 11. 21-23, 3 2 ~5 2 > selections; my translation. For text and further discussion, see Bernard Conlie, Les richesses dans I'oeuvre de Saint Gregoire de Nazianze, Publications de I'lnstitut Orientaliste de Louvain (Louvain-La-Neuve, Catholic University of Louvain, 1985), 95-118. 27. GNaz, Adversus opem amantes, 11. 70-78, selections. 28. Basil, Horn. 7.6; PG ji^gyA.

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faithful and empathetic correspondents and, in all likelihood, Gregory of Nazianzus's cousin. Unlike Gregory of Nazianzus, Amphilochius never seems to have experienced any disillusionment or conflict in his interactions with Basil, although, unlike Gregory, he clearly regards Basil as a revered teacher and does not expect to be treated as an equal. Amphilochius's need to ask Basil how one ought to pronounce the word <|>dyo<;, "glutton,"29 may suggest that classical oratory did not always prepare one with adequate vocabulary to declaim against the eating habits of one's audience, as the Cappadocian sermons unquestionably do, although Christians were not the only moralists in the ancient world who censured gluttony. Although Datema thinks that it is exaggerating his greatness to call him "the fourth Cappadocian,"30 Amphilochius was by no means an inexperienced rhetor. He studied under Libanius, then practiced rhetoric in Constantinople until he was implicated (and probably wronged) in a fiscal scandal and used the opportunity to leave the capital and go home to care for his elderly father. Here he became bishop. Libanius praises his appointment in 373 for "the renewed opportunity you have of employing your eloquence. . . . [E]ven as a student you made old men leap to their feet in excited applause."31 Theodoret cites Amphilochius's ability to turn a clever phrase before the emperor several decades later.32 He had a warm and affectionate relationship with Basil and, to judge by Basil's letters to him, was constantly asking questions. His inquiries about how one ought to censure a wide range of very specific sexual improprieties led to Basil's "Canonical Epistles" (Epp. 188 and 199), and it was Amphilochius who prompted Basil to write his treatise on the Holy Spirit, which Basil dedicates to him. Amphilochius's queries to Basil suggest a certain element of naivete (or perhaps more likely, given Amphilochius's reputation as a skilled rhetor, an extended dialogue of affectionate, tongue-in-cheek joking), asking such questions as what sort of taste manna had, and how many riders were in the ancient chariot (to which Basil replies in Ep. 190). Basil's Epistle 233 is headed "to Amphilochius, who has asked questions." Basil's replies to these questions might be brief,33 but they were always to the point and without rancor. Even a skilled junior orator might need assistance with details outside the classical canon. While Amphilochius's works suggest he was actively involved in responding to the Anomoean controversy,34 Basil invited him to his ptochotropheion at least once (Ep. 175). Amphilochius's homily on

29. Which Basil mentions and answers in Ep. 236; Deferrari notes that the Doric form was §ayo<; (Deferrari, St. Basil: The Letters, 3.401). 30. Cornelius Datema, ed. and tr., Amphilochii Iconiensis Opera (=AJO), CCSG (Turnhout: Brepols, 1978), xxviii and 11.70. Datema argues from the Amphilochian corpus that Amphilochius propounded no new views, that his work reflects an inadequate philosophical education, and that he shows little personal interest in the questions posed by his contemporaries. He portrays Amphilochius instead as a careful if conservative theologian. Jaroslav Pelikan calls Macrina "the fourth Cappadocian" in his Christianity and Classical Culture: The Metamorphosis of Natural Theology in the Christian Encounter with Hellenism, The Gifford Lectures (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1993), 8. 31. Libanius, Ep. 144 in Libanius: Autobiography and Selected Letters, trans. A. F. Norman, LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992), 2.298-301. 32. Theodoret, HE 5.16. 33. "And as for ^dyoi;, we place the accent on the penult." Basil, Ep. 236, trans. Deferrari, 3.401. 34. As suggested by his support of Basil's treatise on the Holy Spirit and also Amphilochius's extant sermon on John 14:28; see (Amphilocus), "S. Amphilochius of Iconium on John 14, 28: 'The Father who

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Zaccheus,'5 a sermon about penance, suggests that he, too, sometimes preached on biblical stories about wealth and poverty with the aim of effecting change in his audience. Asterius's sermon on Zaccheus,35 preached around the turn of the fifth century and also emphasizing penitence, may suggest Amphilochius's influence insofar as Asterius is known to have been influenced by the Cappadocians. It is in Basil's Epistle 150 to Amphilochius, written "as if from" Heracleidas, a mutual friend staying at the ptochotropheion, that we find Basil's most explicit defense for the bishop's authority over the poor and his right to distribute donated wealth: [A]nd [Basil] added to these words that it was not necessary for anyone to take upon himself the distribution of his goods, but only to commit this task to him to whom the management of the alms of the poor had been entrusted. And he proved this from the Acts. . . . For he said that experience was necessary for distinguishing between the man who is truly in need and the man who begs through avarice. And while he who gives to the afflicted has given to the Lord, and will receive his reward from Him, yet he who gives to every wanderer casts it to a dog that is troublesome on account of his shamelessness, but not pitiable because of his need.37

Thus alms, Basil argues, should be given to those who can most wisely manage them, since that steward (in this case himself, or those in similar monastic administrative positions) is best suited to discern those who are really in need from imposters. This control conveniently constructs a method for regular monastic income and also maintains the hierarchy of patronage, here defended on biblical grounds from the example of shared goods found in Acts. Basil's appeal to Acts, and to an ideal world where all goods are shared, is clearly outlined in the sixth and final chapter of his "First Sermon on Ps. 14" a chapter whose relationship to the five that precede it is unclear. Although some have questioned Basil's authorship of this text, the ideas are generally consonant with those found in Basil's other writings and I therefore treat it as genuine for the purpose of this discussion. If genuine, it was probably delivered very shortly before the "second" homily further discussed later. HPsi4a is a sermon about justice, not poverty. Its first five chapters consist of a homiletic commentary on the first four verses of the Psalm known to modern readers as Psalm 15. The author depicts the just person as one who seeks to dwell wholly, body and soul, in the "tent of God." This tent is identified with the human body as it attains a life ordered by blameless thoughts, honest speech, and righteous deeds. In chapter 2 of HPsi4a, the author argues that deeds of justice "work the work of God" and function therapeutically, effecting healing in the lives of those who prac-

sent me is greater than I,' " ed. and trans. C. Moss, Le Museon 43 (1930): 317-64. For a study of Cappadocian rhetoric as it related to the Anomoean debates, see Lim, Public Disputation, Power and Social Order in Late Antiquity, 108-48. 35. Datema, A/O, 163-71; for discussion see xix-xx. 36. For Asterius see Photius, Bibliotheca 271; cf. PG 104.209. For English translations of Asterius's sermons, see G. Anderson and E. J. Goodspeed, trans., Ancient Sermons for Modem Times by Asterius, Bishop ofAmasia Circa 375-405 A.D. (New York: Pilgrim Press, 1904). 37. Basil, Ep. 150, trans. Deferrari, St. Basil: The Letters, 2.369.

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tice them.38 By living as the psalmist prescribes, one reaches toward the ultimate life, able to see through the deceptive appearances of this present world and its material riches. This emphasis on moral thought, speech, and therapeutics all point to the philosophic influence that would have been such a basic element in Basil's thought. In chapter 3, the author, turning to verse 3 of the psalm, begins to discuss philanthrophy in relation to acting justly toward one's neighbor, using the parable of the Good Samaritan to remind his audience that "all men are neighbors." Therefore one's neighbor ought to be treated with honor, respectful speech and concern for bodily needs. It is here that the constructed body of the poor begins to enter into the text. The text mentions the poor, the penetes, twice,39 each time evoking images of deficit: in chapter 4, they are the lowborn (Swyeveii;), the untaught (d|aa0eit;), weak or sick in body and those who particularly deserve mercy. In chapter 5, the author links justice for the poor directly with the injunction to fear God. Those who live justly, fearing God rightly, will exalt and regard as blessed those who are poor, obscure (cVyevvT|<;), and impaired in body. Here the text builds on therapeutic language: in discussing vows the author says that words may seem a condemnation to some but medicinal to others40 just as Joseph's administration as a judge in Egypt was salutary and Pharaoh considered Joseph a healer.41 In the sixth and final chapter, Basil, if he is indeed the author, suddenly narrows his focus, with dizzying abruptness, to the question of how one ought to distribute goods. The abrupt transition between the first five chapters and the sixth may possibly suggest a conflation of two different texts, although, as Homily 8 demonstrated, Basil's sermons did not always contain smooth internal transitions. What is remarkable here, however, is that the "poor," consistently identified as penetes in chapters 1-5, suddenly in chapter 6 become and remain ptochoi. While each of the previous five sections begins with a line from the psalm, the sixth section begins with Matthew 5:42: "Give to whoever asks you and do not turn away those who wish to borrow." Nothing in this final section relates explicitly back to the prior discussion or to the psalm. This passage would appear utterly displaced if this sermon were not traditionally linked to the "second" sermon about debt. And Chapter 6 may indeed be displaced, but its view of Christian liberality to the poor as an integral element of civic justice nonetheless clearly reflects all we know of Basil's views. As the text of HPsi4a.6 has not, to my knowledge, been translated or treated elsewhere at any length, it is given below in full. HPsi4a.6 begins by advocating the communal distribution of material goods as a civic ideal: The Word challenges us to share [KOWCOVIKOC;] and to love one another, in natural kinship. After all, humankind is a civic and social being.42 Liberality for the purpose of restoration is a necessary part of the common life [KOIVTI TtoAateta] and helping

38. PG29.256A. 39. PG 29.2570 and 2608. 40. PG 29.2618. 41. PG 29.2618. 42. TtoXmicov yap £dk>v cruvayeXacmKov b avSpmitoi;. The importance of Aristotle's Politico to Basil's civic language seems evident.

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one another upwards. "To the one who asks you, give." He wishes you to act by that love that simply responds with deeds to those who ask, and yet, on the other hand, that you judge the need of each who appeals for aid.43 He then supports his argument with reference to Acts 4:34-35: And remember the example [of the apostles], a powerful model of right-living, according to prudence, protecting and fulfilling piety. For it says, "as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold and lay it at the apostle's feet. And it was distributed to each as any had need." For many had wealth far exceeding their needs, an excess of goods, which acted as a cause for licentious luxury, now to be made available on demand according to the need, for the care of the poor, the shared supply44 of funds having been entrusted so that it might be wisely and economically distributed according to the needs of each. For wine is often beneficial to those who are sick, but the physician gives it in proportion and moderation and with a concern for quality.45 Basil does not explain the system of just distribution which he has in mind here, although he clearly perceives himself to be at its center. Although there is in this text no moral or behavioral criteria by which to judge the worthy recipient apart from the general concept of "need," there is a distinct moral tone to the prescribed "sharing." Just as the same dose of wine is not an appropriate therapy for all who are sick, so one ought to give in such a way as to exemplify godly ideals for those who benefit from the gift. Basil here defends this argument with the example of donations given at funerals to pay for the inordinate wailing of the professional mourners, which may seem out of place in a text on justice and relieving human need: However, the stewardship concerning the therapeutic treatment of the needy may not function beneficially for all. For indeed funeral dirges operate as a fraudulent trick of women, indeed, even maiming the body, and the wounds become a pretext for trade and by no means for an abundant and useful ministry [SictKovict]. The public office of the c/ioregos46 becomes the occasion for evil. But one must eliminate this kind of howling [from the funeral ceremony], by giving only a very tiny gift, and instead exhibit sympathy and brotherly love in order to teach that one must bear affliction with patient endurance.47 This progression of thought from political equalizing of goods to defraying other people's funeral expenses is logical within Basil's perception of civic identity and gift exchange. The passage assumes that the donor may use personal resources to exercise social power over the moral behavior of others by which the donor is rightly promoting a certain "holy justice." The homilist ends the sermon by relating these concepts back to biblical precepts:

43. PG 29.26100. This and the following translations from HPsi4a.6 are contiguous and sequential in the text and together constitute the entire passage. 44. or perhaps "pooled resource(s)"; reading Migne's T] ouyKOKiSri; to be O"uyico|a,i8fi; the text is also clearly flawed in its constant use of the aspirate, e for e. 45. PG 2g.264AB. 46. The one who furnishes supplies; the context may also allude to those who defrayed the cost of public choruses in ancient Athens. 47. PG 29.2646.

114 ^le Hungry Are Dying For thus it was said to them, "I was hungry and you gave me food" and so forth. "And those who wish to borrow from you, do not turn them away." For this precept is given first place. Now, even though this person making the request, being poor, begs a loan from you, you are to display the riches of heaven; you are to pay that debt. "For mercy on the poor," it says, "lends to God." And the kingdom of heaven is secure from debts. May it be that we are deemed worthy of the grace and philanthropy of our Lord Jesus Christ, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, praise and glory from age to age. Amen.48

In summary, then, Basil's Epistle 150 and his first homily on Psalm 14, if genuine, especially its sixth chapter, illustrate a concern to control social justice by drawing on Greek ideals, appealing to justice in biblical terms and overseeing its administration under the moral mantle of the religious patron. Here we see Basil's imagery of the ideal life as community life, relating directly to divine justice and civic obligation.

Against Usury Perhaps the most vivid Cappadocian image of the poor as a literal fiscal body is found in Basil's so-called "Second Homily on Psalm 14" (HPsL^b), a text against usury. Basil says at the outset that he left out an important point in his "first" sermon on Psalm 14, and now "an eager debtor to the text" will preach a second sermon to set the matter straight. The homily concerns a single phrase of the psalm: the righteous person is one who "does not lend out his money at interest."49 HPsi4b repeats many of the same themes found in Homilies 6 and 7, but here Basil constructs a more detailed historical context of the dynamic relationship between wealth and poverty in debt bondage. This homily quickly influenced at least two other homilies on debt. The homily was first delivered sometime between 363 and 377.so Its style and the theme of oppression of the poor is similar to that in Homilies 6 and 7. The sermon seeks to persuade borrowers to pay their debts, potential borrowers to be content with present poverty, and usurers —or anyone who lends at interest—to cease from this oppression of the poor and instead give interest-free loans without expecting repayment. This sermon is not really about poverty as much as it is about the process of impoverishment. In depicting the process, Basil vividly portrays the body of the poor and the psychological manipulation by which the creditor gains increasing control of his victim. While Homilies 6 and 7 are addressed to the rich about the effects of their greed on the poor, HPsi4b seems to directly address both rich and poor, exploring debt as a social disease that readily leads the rich into poverty. Basil uses the same terms for the poor as he does in his other sermons, most frequently derivatives of penes, but also €v8er|<; and anopoq. Since the debt he describes causes a rapid disenfranchisement for a debtor who must begin with some resources, as collateral for the loan, ptochos as Basil and Origen understand it would also seem appropriate, and indeed Basil uses this word here more than in Homilies 6 or 7.

48. PG 29.26460. 49. Ps. 15:5 in most modern translations. 50. Fedwick, Basil of Caesarea: Christian, Humanist, Ascetic 1.10.

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Lending at Interest in Antiquity Basil was writing about a common social problem to which the early church might be expected to respond in a variety of ways. We have, for example, the story of a mid-fourthcentury Egyptian Christian, Pamonthius, a wine dealer. When he was unable to repay a loan, and his creditors took his children and sold them into slavery, a Christian friend wrote a letter of appeal to the local church on Pamonthius's behalf, requesting financial aid that Pamonthius might at least redeem his children.51 Although the outcome of his crisis remains unknown, Pamonthius's story illustrates the social context within which debt functioned in the fourth century and the role of the church in both perpetuating the problems debt created, and purportedly attempting to resolve them. While the letter to the church on his behalf is careful not to mention interest rates, it is very likely that the accumulating interest had been a significant part of Pamonthius's problem. In exploring texts about loans, from classical Greece to Roman Cappadocia, there is a remarkable consistency in both the views on various economic themes and the socially appropriate numerical standards. The papyri occasionally attest to the practice of interest-free loans as a Roman ideal.52 In practice, however, loans were intended to profit the lender, and standard interest rates — whether as early as the XII Tables or as late as the Theodosian Code — consistently ranged between 5 and 12 percent. Higher rates were common, however, and the consequences of debt-insolvency grim. 53 As in many cultures moneylending, like fiscal gain itself, was rarely discussed in polite Greek or Roman company among the educated and/or upper class. Plato, who equates it with vulgarity, advised against it without explicitly forbidding it: "In the [ideal] state there must be neither gold nor silver, nor must there be much moneymaking by means of vulgar trading or usury. . . . [O]f all the three objects that concern every man, the concern for money . . . comes third and last; that for the body second; and that for the soul first."54 Aristotle, like Plato, argued that the most hon-

51. P. Land. 1915, trans. A. S. Hunt and C. C. Edgar, Select Papyri i, LCL (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1932), 377-79. 52. E.g., P. Amh. 50; ibid., i, 200-201. 53. The XII Tables defined the legal limit as 1/12 part of the capital, the monthly rate depending on whether one followed an annual calendar of 10 or 12 months. One percent per month, 12 percent per year, is routine in the majority of debt agreements. The Theodosian Code (De Usuris; 2.33.1-4) reiterates i percent per month as the traditional limit, under both Constantine (CT 2.33.1^ 325 C.E.) and Theodosius (CT 2.33.2; 386 C.E.). Extortionists could, according to law, be punished with penalties that ranged from two to four times the amount they had charged over the legal interest rate, but it is not clear that this in practice ever held much social threat to usurers. For recent studies on indebtedness in antiquity, I have benefited from J. Andreau, La vie financiers dans le monde romain: Les metiers de manieurs d'argent (IV siecle avant /.-C.-III siecle ap. /.-C.), BEFAR 265 (Rome, 1986): M. I. Finley, The Ancient Economy (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973): M. W. Frederiksen, "Caesar, Cicero and the Problem of Debt," /RS 56 (1966): 128-41: P. Millett, Lending and Borrowing in Ancient Athens (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991): and Nicholas Rauh, "Auctioneers and the Roman Economy," Historia 38 (1989): 451-71. See also more recently W. T. Loomis, Wages, Welfare Costs and Inflation in Classical Athens (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1998). All translations from CT are taken from Pharr, The Theodosian Code. 54. Plato, Leg. 5.743DE, trans. R. G. Bury, Laws i, LCL (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1926), 351.

n6 The Hungry Are Dying,

orable way of making a profit should, like all other good things, follow nature. Agricultural reproduction was thus appropriate, but money was a sterile substance that did not "naturally" reproduce itself. Both Greek philosophers and Christian bishops used tokos, the Greek term for both "childbearing" and "interest-on-money," to imply both natural and deviant offspring. Aristotle said, "interest represents an increase in the money itself: we speak of it as a ... crop or litter. . . . [O]f all ways of getting wealth this is the most contrary to nature."55 Yet interest-bearing loans had an accepted place in gift patronage and the social promotion of intangible obligations. Land might be the ideal "natural" source of economic profit, but Pliny, for example, had no qualms about simultaneously taking out loans and collecting old debts to raise capital to buy property.56 In his Epistle 41.7, Seneca viewed usury as a routine aspect of economics. Martial 3.31 refers to loans; Tacitus takes them as a matter of course (Annales 6.16), and it was common to invest one's patrimony in loan-based schemes.57 CT 13.1.18 recognizes commercial lenders, those "engaging in pursuing usury and rejoicing in the accession of money that increases day by day" and taxed them in the same way that other merchants were taxed. Both tradition and the ideal of upper-class beneficence expected the more honorable classes to both lend and borrow at below-market rates. CT2.33.4 implies that those of senatorial rank were traditionally expected to lend at ¥2 percent per month, or 6 percent per year, possibly with strings attached for such a privilege, and Justinian eventually made 6 percent the upper legal limit for all loans.58 This low rate is similar to the traditional 5 percent interest on land-related loans. Indeed, the act of lending, the creation of an obligation, was frequently described in terms of beneficence. The political bondage of this ironic euergetism is seen most starkly in the alimenta, discussed in chapter i. The revenue for the alimenta was generated by the interest on perpetual government loans granted to participating landowners at 5 percent, with their land as collateral. The landowner's participation in the schemes was optional, in theory. Trajan vetoed Pliny's request to impose forced loans at 9 percent on the decurions of Asia Minor to obtain "revenue from civic funds that cannot be invested by other means," claiming that "to force a

55. Arist., Pol. 1.10. 56. He gave a large interest-free loan to the philosopher Artemidorus (Ep. 3.21.2; 3.11.2). In asking for advice about buying a piece of property, he writes, "It is true that nearly all my capita] is in land, but I have some outstanding loans and it will not be difficult to borrow" (Ep. 3.19.8, trans, in Fil< Meijer and Onno Van Nijf, eds. and trans., Trade, Transport and Society in the Ancient World: A Sourcebook [London: Routledge, 1992], 70-71). 58. Part of Dio Chrysostom's patrimony was invested in loans (Or. 46.5). The patrimony of Roman minors might not be used as collateral to borrow, but it could be augmented by investment in loan-based schemes. This is attested in the "Babatha archive" from the second century (seee further later). Babatha was a widow who had a son by her first husband; the boy was still under age when she remarried and the boy's appointed legal guardians had invested his patrimony in 12 percent loans. In Document 15, dated to 125 C.E., Babatha sues these guardians for keeping half of the i percent per month interest they are collecting for her son on this loan investment. The Theodosian Code reiterates this protective status of minors' patrimony: The inherited land of minors could not legally be used as collateral to borrow (thus putting it at risk), but if the minor had inherited only movable goods, these might be lent out at interest only if the tutor was willing to assume the risk (CT 3.30.6, dated 396 C.E.). Minors of senatorial rank were an exception, legally permitted to accept interest, although at the senators' lower rate of 6 percent (CT 2.33.3).

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loan on unwilling persons, who may perhaps have no means of making use of it themselves, is not in accordance with the justice of our times."59 Yet it is under Trajan that the alimenta may have gained their momentum, and the (theoretically) less burdensome 5 percent loans of the alimenta were intended to benefit their recipients communities. Once a landowner accepted the loan, forced or not, it became politically unwise, if not illegal, to escape the obligation by paying it off. Not only was the landowner indebted to the imperial fisc in this way, but because the debt remained on the land itself, the perpetual obligation to generate income to pay the alimentary interest lowered the land's resale value. The longterm ability to support these local children rested substantially on natural forces and required grain storage facilities to maximize profit potential even in bad years. As Duncan-Jones remarked, "it is unlikely that the scheme was devised in order to serve the interest of the landowners. . . . The only beneficiaries appear to have been the children whose subsistence the interest payments guaranteed."60 While the treasury might thus, in the name of beneficence and euergetism, impose obligatory loans onto individuals, anyone caught taking personal loans from the imperial treasury was punished by the loss of his property and exile.61 Perpetual funding was not new with the alimenta, nor unique to them. Other "perpetual" foundations, including funds for memorial feasts, were also frequently maintained by investment loans with interest rates ranging from 5 percent to 12 percent.62 Further, there was no social shame to being in debt, provided one could supply collateral and make timely payments; and responsible debtors who paid the monthly interest were under no pressure to pay back the capital. In CT 12.11.1.1, Constantine argued that "it is to the advantage of the municipality to retain financially responsible debtors."63 Yet this very law also cautions that it is "to the interest of the debtors not to nourish an accumulated debt." The responsible debtor was especially expected to retain the value of his patrimony. The social value of the debtor thus rested in his place as one with an inherited investment in the civic order. To squander one's patrimony was "accounted as a loss to the municipality" (CT 12.11.1.3). Bankruptcy was not an option; one could write off a total loss only if it could be proven caused by "shipwreck, robbery, fire or the onset of overwhelming force."64

58. 0/4.32. 59. Plin., Ep. 10.54-55, trans. Betty Radice, The Letters of the Younger Pliny (New York: Penguin, 1969), 278. 60. Duncan-Jones, The Economy of the Roman Empire, 300. 61. CT 10.24.1 (368, 370, 373 C.E.). The case of Hymetius, discussed in chapter i, may suggest an imperial imposition of this law. 62. Duncan-Jones, The Economy of the Roman Empire, 81,133-35. One wonders whether low interest rates for the foundations were related to social class. Duncan-Jones identified a direct correlation between high levels of invested capital in perpetual foundations and lower interest rates. For a society where the higher honor went to those who possessed a certain level of wealth and were least concerned with making profits, social class of the investors may perhaps be hypothesized by the stated interest rate by which the foundation profited. 63. CT 12.11.1.1. 64. CT4.2O (Lex Julia cessio bonorum); each circumstance may suggest an aberration of the cosmic elements, if one allows the robber to represent aberrant earth here.

n8 The Hungry Are Dying Interest, like taxation, was occasionally remitted in situations of political reform, such as those which occurred under Gracchi and Caesar's and in times of large-scale economic crisis, as for example Valentinian's act of remitting the debts of Africans who lost everything to Vandal invaders.65 However, the principal was usually protected and the creditor's right to it was regarded as essential for social stability.66 These laws applied only to money. In lending food, one might legitimately demand as much as a 50 percent return,67 a rate Constantine confirms in applying a 50 percent interest to loans of wine and oil (CT 2.33.1). One might thus entirely bypass lower interest rates by trafficking wholly in food loans; this high return also suggests a chronic anxiety about the food supply. But what about those for whom debt implied ignomy rather than honor? Who were the victims of this system? While granting a loan was the privilege of the benefactor in Roman society, the debtors undoubtedly experienced it as injustice. Even among those who participated in them, loans were often viewed as a quasi-legal system of extortion and "legal" interest rates a creative fiction at best. Those desperate for a quick loan might be unwilling later to draw legislative attention to an "illegal" rate in a contract into which they had willingly entered. Taking one's creditor to court required not only money but also a social power often unavailable to the debtors in the texts. Further, the illiterate debtor was forced not only to trust the verbal terms of his creditor, but also to hope for a disinterested honesty on the part of the scribe who recorded the terms of the agreement, a scribe probably paid by the party who held the purse: the creditor. There were many ways the creditor might sidestep the law to his (or her) further advantage. One was to falsify the documents at some point after they were first recorded and attested. We may have one such example in Document n of the "Babatha" archive from early-second-century C.E. Nabataea. In 124, Babatha's second husband, Judah, signed for a loan of 60 denarii from a Roman centurion. The document, however, was altered to read 40 denarii; the modern editors suggest this was evidence for a "concealed usurious squeeze exerted upon the borrower" who received only 40 denarii but paid interest on 6o.68 Basil mentions another method of falsification: calculating interest by lunar months, collecting for thirteen rather than twelve months each year.69 CT 2.33.1 rules against creditors who might try to postpone the repayment of the principal in order to increase the interest. Some simply ignored the law. In some cities in Illyricum, Asia and Egypt in Varro's time, capital was lent to urban communities at 4 percent per month, or nearly

65. Novels ofValentinian III 12. For trans, see Pharr, The Theodosian Code, 526. 66. This right was linked directly and solely to the creditor in person; creditors were forbidden to engage collection agents. CT2.13, dated 422, warns that whoever hired another to "enforce his own right of action" might legally lose all right to collect the debt. 67. Attested on grain loans in P Tebt. no (early first century B.C.E.), an agreement for a loan of wheat at 150 percent return; for text and trans., see Hunt and Edgar, Select Papyri i, 202-5. 68. N. Lewis, ed., The Documents from the Bar Kochba Period in the Cave of Letters: Greek Papyri (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration SocietyAThe Hebrew University of Jerusalem/The Shrine of the Book, 1989), 41-46, 58-64. 69. "Collectors . . . . according to the cycles of the moon, like demons which cause epileptic fits"; Basil, HPsi4b.4.

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50 percent per year.70 Another of Babatha's documents proposes that Babatha offered to pay a higher-than-legal rate of interest as a way of obtaining "justice." Although illiterate and without legal power over her son, she went to court to charge her son's guardians for keeping half of the i percent per month interest they were collecting on his behalf. She threatened to take the guardians to court to sue them for all they have extorted from her son unless they turn over to her the management of these assets. She was willing to put up an equivalent value of her own personal property as collateral for her son's patrimony, which she had no legal power to control without the guardians' permission. If they granted her its management, the document states, she promised to support her son by paying his estate i'/2 percent per month from her own resources. In this way she committed herself— in a legal document — to a technically "illegal" interest rate of 18 percent, three times what her son has been receiving from the dishonest guardians, and 50 percent over the legal rate, of which the Roman centurion was perhaps so carefully aware in his loan to Judah the previous year. While it remains unclear whether Babatha succeeded in this appeal, her bold offer in a legal document to pay 18 percent interest suggests that "legal" interest was a functional fiction, and that one might without impunity impose whatever rate was acceptable to the community in a particular circumstance. Early patristic texts forbade charging interest at all, using as proof-texts the biblical prohibition forbidding the Israelites from charging interest to their fellow Israelites.71 Ideals notwithstanding, both Christian men and women lent money at interest. A poem by Commodianus which some date to the third century refers to Christian creditors who charged interest rates as high as 24 percent, and then sought to gain heavenly credits by giving alms to the very poor they created.72 The Apostolic Constitutions?^ condemned some of the widows the church supported, blaming them for supplementing their income with interest-bearing loans from their own resources. On the basis of these economic investments, the women were dubbed "false widows;" they "ought to be content with their subsistence from the church."74 The Christian prohibitions may have also been influenced by the pre-existing

70. See, e.g., T. Mommsen, The History of Rome, trans. Purdie Dickson (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1908), 5.410. 71. Deut. 23:19-20. See, e.g., the twelfth canon of the Council of Aries (314 C.E.), the seventeenth canon of Nicaea (forbidding usury), and the canons of Carthage in 348. The canons at Carthage in 419 suggest some were charging interest. Canon 4 from Laodicea (between 343 and 381) also forbids clergy from lending or receiving money at interest. The Apostolic Constitutions 3.7.3 condemns the "false widow" who lends out her money at interest even while being supported by church charity. Const. App. 47.44 proscribes usury for bishops, presbyters and deacons. Usury was also opposed by Athanasius (Exp. Ps. 14), Gregory of Nazianzus, Gregory of Nyssa (see later), Epiphanius (Haer., epilog c. 24), Chrysostom (e.g., Horn. 41 in Gen.), Theodoret (Ps. 14.5 and Ps. 54.11), Hilary of Poitiers (In Ps. 14), Ambrose (De Tobia), Jerome (In Ezech . 6.18), Augustine (e.g., De Baptismo contr. Don. 4.19), Leo the Great (Ep. 3.4), and Cassiodorus (In Ps. 14.10). For further discussion on these texts, see Robert P. Maloney, "The Teachings of the Fathers on Usury: A Historical Study on the Development of Christian Thinking," VC 27 (1973): 241-65. 72. Commodianus, Instructiones 65, cited in Maloney, "The Teaching of the Fathers on Usury," 245. 73. Const. App. 3.7.3; my emphasis. 74. Trans. W. Whiston and J. Donaldson, ANF 7.428.

12O The Hungry Are Dying

imperial prohibitions. Money that belonged to one's ultimate patron and benefactor, whether it be God or the emperor, was viewed as sacred, in the sense that it was "set apart" for exclusive imperial or divine use and administration. As Romans caught lending imperial money at interest were exiled, bishops caught practicing usury were to be defrocked, and church-supported widows were to be struck off the welfare rolls. The moral texts on usury in antiquity thus indicate a tension between ideals and practice, a tension that is demonstrated by such discrepancies in both legal and ecclesial prescriptions, and the widespread evidence in the same texts that they were often utterly disregarded. Debt Bondage and Social Dissolution in Basil's HPs 146 It is against this cultural background that Basil writes his sermon against usury, and in which he draws both from Scripture and canonical injunctions pertaining to interest-bearing loans.75 Basil constructs debt — with interest — as a disordering of the natural world. He portrays the dynamics of penury and usury in this sermon in language of illness, nature, and civic identity. The sermon is particularly vivid in its description of the relationship between debtor and creditor, and the dynamics between them that perpetuate injustice: Usury involves the greatest inhumanity. . . . Seeing a man by necessity bent down before his knees as a suppliant. . . [the creditor] does not pity him who is suffering misfortune beyond his desert; he takes no account of his nature; he does not yield to his supplications. . . . But, when he who is seeking the loan makes mention of interest and names his securities, then . . . he smiles and remembers somewhere or other a family friendship. . . . [H]e says, "There is a deposit of a dear friend who entrusted it to us for matters of business. He has assigned a heavy interest for it, but we shall certainly remit some and give it at a lower rate of interest." Making such pretenses . . . and enticing the wretched man with such words he binds him with contracts; then, after having imposed on the man the loss of his liberty in addition to his oppressing poverty, he departs. As the borrower has made himself responsible for the interest, of whose full payment he has no idea, he accepts a voluntary servitude for life.76

Unwilling either to do without or to sell his patrimony to meet his basic needs, the debtor perceives the loan as a less drastic, and probably more socially acceptable, "solution" to his difficulties. But quickly spending this illusory wealth, he has nothing left to pay the interest at the end of each month; he acquires more loans to pay off this loan interest, and the balance of greed becomes more and more asymmetric as the debt increases; so proceeds the decline into destitution. Going deeper into debt, the victim's life becomes a "sleepless daze of anxious uncertainty." For "if he sleeps, he sees the moneylender standing at his head, an evil dream. . . . If [a friend] knocks at the door he hides under the couch. . . . Does the dog bark? He breaks out

75. For canonical injunctions against usury, see Basil, Ep. 188, canon 14 (the aspiring clergy who has engaged in usury can be received into holy orders after he gives his "unjust gain" to the poor). 76. Basil, HPs^b.i, trans. Way, 182; PC 29.2658-2^.

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in a sweat."77 The interest due — the tokos — increases like a hare, a wild animal that the ancients believed could not stop reproducing even while it was nourishing the offspring already produced.78 The creditor, however, is not so easily dazed. He appears in all states at all hours: He examines your family affairs; he meddles with your transactions. If you go forth from your chamber, he drags you along with him and carries you off; if you hide yourself inside he stands before your house and knocks at the door. In the presence of your wife he puts you to shame; he insults you before your friends; in the market place he strangles you; he makes a feast an evil; he renders life insupportable.79

Basil follows Aristotle in using the image of tokos to imply aberrant reproduction: "Why do you yoke yourself with a prolific wild beast?" Basil asks. "They say that hares bring forth and at the same time both rear young and become doubly pregnant. So also with moneylenders, the money is lent out and at the same time, it reproduces from itself and is in a process of growth."80 As a wild beast, outside the realm of what Romans considered the natural order of things, the abnormally prolific "wild hare" of usury is thus portrayed with the same implications as a modern cancer: a metastasizing growth that feeds on itself and on its host to the complete destruction of all differentiation: in the end body, family, and property become nothing more than debits insufficient to meet the demands of the creditors. Indeed, Basil's medical allusions construct an image of the debtor as the victim of a fatal disease that the creditor, having the power to cure, chooses instead to provoke. Just as a sick body flushed and swollen with edema may appear rosy and fat, he says, so a loan disguises economic illness with the false appearance of health.81 The debtor is like one with cholera who is constantly eating and yet subject to perpetual and debilitating diarrhea,82 repeatedly replenishing the body but gaining no advantage on account of the wasting disease. Just as a person whose fatal illness puffs him up to give a false appearance of health, so, Basil suggests in HPsi4.b.4, the debtor gives the same impression, living in a fantasy of wealth, taking air and giving air, going to pay the debts of yesterday with today's loans, a trick that lulls to sleep the distrust of his creditors. Thus debt disorders civic stability. As debt in the end devours all the debtor's worldly goods, the creditor reduces a citizen to a beggar and deprives the community of a contributing member. To lose one's patrimony was a form of social death: the end of family land, the end of a stable civic identity, the end of all political rights

77. Basil, HPsi4b.3, trans. Way, 186. 78. Arist., Hist. an. 6.33.579^ "Hares breed and bear at all seasons, superfetate during pregnancy, and bear young every month. They do not give birth to their young ones all together at one time, but bring them forth at intervals over as many days as the circumstances of each case may require. The female . . . . is capable of conception while suckling her young" (following trans. Peck, Aristotle: History of Animals Books IV—VI, LCL [Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1970], 342-43). 79. Basil, HPsi4b.2,3, trans. Way, 185-6; PG 29.2690-2726, selections. 80. Ibid., ^.3, trans. Way, 187; PG 29.2738. 81. Ibid., i4b.4; PG 29.276C-277A. 82. On the Hippocratic theories and treatments of cholera see, e.g., Aphorismi 3.30 and De affectionibus 27.

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that may be tied to land ownership. The creditors are thus robbing their victims of intrinsic civic rights: by depriving them of their inheritance, their children's liberty, their humanity, pursuing them as hunted beasts. This, Basil admonishes, is a mockery of the patronage system with its social ideal of beneficence: "You exploit the distressed; you make a profit from tears; you strangle the naked, you beat up the one who is hungry. Of pity: nothing! Of regard for the unfortunate's family: not a bit. And the profit that you haul in, you call humanitarian [(j>iA,dv6pa>7t(x]."83 Liberty, Basil argues, should be the unassailable birthright of all free citizens and their children, even the children of the poor who lose their property to creditors or sell it to pay off their debts. Benefactors who destroy their starving and penniless dependents with interest-bearing loans commit a crime against the body of the city by undermining the social body of the poor. Basil's advice to both the debtors and the creditors in his audience seems out of touch with their daily dilemmas and insensitive to what must have been stark realities of human need. In chapter 3 he tells the person who is thinking about entering into debt, simply, "Do not borrow." However hard life is, he says, "today you are poor, but free. Debts make you a slave of the lender and a slave is a forced dependent. . . . [Although] you say, 'Things are desperate!' a loan is not a solution. . . . Take on today the inconveniences of poverty."84 But poverty is more than a slight inconvenience, and many of the poor in his audience were presumably already in debt. Basil's adamant tone essentially blames the victims for their own problem even as he seeks to reverse and prevent its effect on their lives. His solutions may be best understood in terms of didactic advice rather than ecclesiastical legislation. Basil advises those who are already in debt to face reality, sell what they can, and find work. If they are physically unable to work, they should willingly beg. In light of Basil's emotive image in Homily 6 of the poor who lost even their children into slavery, an image he mentions again in HPsizj.b.4, it is difficult to imagine Basil expecting his audience to believe his promise in HPsi4b.3 that debt-free poverty is the means to happy and untroubled sleep. Addressing the creditor, Basil says, "Lend only to God." Clearly the audience is expected to understand this allusion to Proverbs 19:17. Basil also makes this meaning clear in Homily 8, when he says, "Trustworthy guarantor, [God] has vast treasuries all over the earth and sea. In fact, even if you were to demand back the loan in the middle of the ocean, you would be guaranteed to receive the capital with interest."85 And in Homily 6 he argues explicitly for material redistribution as justice: "That bread you hold in your clutches: that belongs to the starving; that cloak you keep locked away in your wardrobe, that belongs to the naked; those shoes that are going to waste with you, they belong to the barefooted; the silver you buried away, that belongs to the needy."86 While Basil clearly advised material redistribution, there is no hint in these texts

83. 84. 85. 86.

Basil, HPsi4b.5; my trans; PG zg.zSoA. Ibid., 14^2; my trans; PG 29.2690. Basil, Horn. 8.6; PG 3r.32iA. Basil, Horn. 6.7, trans. Toal, Sunday Sermons, 3.332; PG ji.zyyA.

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of a radical communistic restructuring. Basil is not here intent on redistributing the balance of social power, except possibly to the church. He does not, for example, advise giving —to the poor —villas, estates, or even the farmlands they work, nor does he ever suggest a free education to the children whose risk of slavery he so vividly depicts. Rather, the existing patronage structure, rid of injustice, becomes the ideal model in which Basil locates God-language about justice. God becomes, like the imperial treasury, a source of public assistance. As the emperor is the ultimate patron, so God is the ultimate benefactor, whose collateral on a loan is of eternal value. Basil maintains the social language of civic patronage even as he reworks it with a solution that affords value to both poverty and the body of the poor citizen. The only way to lend to God, after all, is through this very body with its physical and social needs. By identifying the poor with civic and cosmic justice, Basil affirms the value of the body to effect redemption, but it is not an ascetic redemption. The poor effect salvation precisely by eating, by retaining their children, by being adequately clothed and free of torture and discomfort, a redemption effected solely, as in Homilies 6 and 7, by their reception of material distribution. There is no sense in Basil's homilies of the poor "praying the rich into heaven," a theme popular in other early Christian texts concerned with redemptive almsgiving. The poor here have no moral identity beyond this power of the cosmic, and essentially passive, witness. The poor in the end remain a fiscal body, to the wealthy in Basil's audience the body outside oneself against which God measures justice. HPsi^b as a Model for Gregory ofNyssa and Ambrose Basil's sermon against usury quickly became a well-known text, at least to his friends, and his themes, whether borrowed from this sermon directly or reflecting the general episcopal tone of the period, are soon repeated by Gregory of Nyssa, Ambrose, and John Chrysostom. Indeed, Bernardi dates Gregory of Nyssa's sermon against usury to the Lenten period of 379,87 that is, during Basil's lifetime, and suggests that Gregory preached it at Caesarea, since the audience is expected to have Basil's sermon fresh in mind. While Basil focuses on the debtor's pitiful state, Gregory emphasizes that of the creditor. Like Basil, Gregory's solution to social debt-bondage ultimately depended on gifts although Gregory more readily calls them charity. Unlike Basil, Gregory emphasized the futility and miserly poverty of the creditor, as he anxiously calculates the accumulating interest, worrying about getting his returns. While Basil — and Ambrose, discussed later, considered the debtor a luckless victim of the fishhook baited with gold, Gregory pities the creditors, who "pierce themselves with hooks of moneylending, recklessly harming their own lives."88 Gregory also uses the ironic imagery of disordered wildness and aberrant reproduction: "Moneylending wants everything to be wild and begets whatever has been untilled.

87. Bernard!, La Predication, 264. For E. Gebhardt's critical edition of Gregory's Contra Usurarios, see GNO 9.195-207; for an English translation, Casimir McCambley, OSB, "Against Those Who Practice Usury by Gregory ofNyssa," GOTR 36 (1991): 287-302. 88. PG 46.452, trans. McCambley, "Against Those Who Practice Usury," 302.

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It has a reed for a plough, papyrus for a field, and black ink for seed. . . . Usury's home is a threshing-floor upon which the fortunes of the oppressed are winnowed."89 Basil and Gregory agree that the financial bondage of the poor is unjust and that its solution begins by radically redefining, in both the cosmic and civic realm, the relationship between patron and debtor; Gregory argues, "Do not force poverty on those who are rich."90 Ambrose's sermon, De Tobia, delivered in Milan sometime between 376 and 38o,91 demonstrates Basil's rapid influence in the West. Preached over several days,92 it incorporates large sections of Basil's HPsi4b, translated into Latin. Basil's Epistle 197, dated to 375, implies that the two had met in person and then corresponded, so a sharing of ideas and even texts is not surprising. Those sections of Basil's sermon which Ambrose does not import wholesale he paraphrases, even to the reference to the fecundity of hares, drawing heavily on the Greek linguistic images, explaining the Greek double meaning, and substituting many of Basil's Greek puns with Latin puns on different words entirely to make a similar point.93Ambrose echoes Basil's censure of both debtor and creditor: "We accuse the debtor because he has acted somewhat imprudently, but nevertheless there is nothing more wicked than the usurers" (De Tobia 6.23). He reserves a limited pity, as Basil does, for the debtor: "He pays usury who lacks food. Is there anything more terrible?" (3.11) yet "Poverty is not a crime; but to be in debt is shameful, and not to pay, shameless" (21.81). Ambrose embellishes Basil's already vivid account, adding his own stories and comparisons and yet consistently imitating Basil's allusions to the creditors in terms of predatory beasts. Ambrose adopts unedited Basil's account of free children being sold in the marketplace, even including Basil's claim, "I have seen a pitiful sight" (8.29), probably as true to his own experience as to Basil's. His description of the legal contract is particularly vivid: Money is given, it is called a loan; it is termed money at interest, it is designated capital; it is written down as debt; this huge monster of many heads causes frequent exactions; the usurer names the bond, he speaks of the signature, he demands securities, he talks of a pledge, he calls for sureties; he claims the legal obligation, he boasts of the interest, he praises the hundredth.'4

Ambrose makes one claim Basil does not make: "The devil is a usurer," he says, referring to Satan's temptations of Christ. "[Tjhe Savior owed nothing but He paid

89. PG 46.437, trans, ibid., 295. 90. PG 46.444, trans, ibid., 298. 91. Ambrose, De Tohia. Unless otherwise noted, translation here follows Lois Miles Zucker, St. Ambrosii, De Tobia: A Commentary with an Introduction and Translation. Patristic Studies 35 (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America, 1933), 24-105. For discussion see also Stanislas Giet, "De Saint Basile a Saint Ambroise: La condamnation du pret a interet au IVC siecle," RevSR 32 (1944): 95-128. 92. Ambrose, De Tobia 23.88 responds to a listener who took offense at a portion of the sermon Ambrose had preached "two days ago"; cf. Zucker, 99. 93. E.g., usury: "use" (De Tobia 13); faenus, "interest": faenum, "straw" (De Tobia 13); sore, "fortune": sorte, "lot" (De Tobia 14). 94. Ambrose, De Tohia 12.40, trans. Zucker, 57.

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for all. . . . The usurer of money. . . exacts his hundredth. . . . [T]he Redeemer came to save the hundredth sheep, not to destroy it."9> And in 10.36 Ambrose alludes, as Basil does not, to usurers who denied burial to the dead until the bills were paid; it is not clear from the text who was expected to supervise the corpse in the interim. Ambrose prescribes the same solution Basil does, but he more readily defines his rhetorical terms: "Lend your money therefore to the Lord in the hand of the pauper" (De Tobia 16.55). Further, he orders in 17.57 that creditors return pledges they hold in order to obey the biblical injunction commanding that the poor not spend a night without his cloak.96 Ambrose makes the sermon into a moral lesson on the superiority of Christianity over Judaism (19.63-64) and a spiritual lesson about words and garments (2o.67ff.): generous giving and abundant charity, Ambrose concludes, "is everlasting gain and perpetual usury" (19.93). These sermons on usury suggest that the rich patrons expected their clients, land-tenants, and supplicants to turn their own bodies into profit for the patron. In Antioch at the end of the fourth century, when economic disorder was aggravated by agricultural tenants paying local soldiers "protection money" from their absentee landlord's goods, Libanius defended the landowners' outrage, arguing that the ideal peasant ought to gain protection in only three ways: prayer to the gods, proper irrigation and water rights on the land they farm, and trust in the kindness of their master who can remit debts and offer legal assistance — but not by "what robs me of what is mine."97 Only a short time later in Antioch, John Chrysostom condemned usury and expressed sympathy for the farming tenants in a description that makes it clear it was not the landlords' inanimate goods alone but the very bodies of the tenants that were treated as property: Upon them that are pining with hunger, and toiling. . . . [T]hey both impose constant and intolerable payments, and lay on them laborious burdens, and like asses or mules, or rather like stones do they treat their bodies, . . . and when the earth yields and when it does not yield they alike wear them out. . . . What can be more pitiable than this, when after having labored throughout the whole winter, and being consumed with frost and rain, and watchings, they go away with their hands empty, further in debt, and fearing worse than famine and shipwreck the torments of the stewards, and their dragging them about and their demands and their imprisonments and the services from which no entreaty can deliver them. . . . [A]nd new kinds of usuries also do they devise, and not lawful . . . and for not the hundredth part of the sum but the half of the sum they press for and exact; and this when he of whom it is exacted has a wife, is bringing up children, is a human being and is filling their threshing floor, and their winepress by his own toils.98

Like Basil, Chrysostom regarded the greedy who profit from usurious contracts as mentally and spiritually ill, even comparable to the insane who, insatiable, run about

95. 96. 97. 98.

Ibid., 9.33-34, trans. Zucker, 51. Deut. 24:10—13. Libanius, Or. 47.20, trans. Norman, Libanius: Selected Works 2.519. Chrys., Horn. 61.3 in Matt, trans. G. Prevost and M. B. Riddle, NPNF 1 10.377-78.

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naked: "The madmen strip themselves of their clothing, but [the covetous] strip all that meet them. . . . [T]hey do in the cities these things which the others do in the deserts, making the cities deserts.. . . They do not pelt with stones . . . but of the wounds which by paper and ink they work to the wretched poor."99

Holy Gift and Sale: Basil and the Typology of Joseph The Cappadocians, like Origen, perceived in texts a hierarchy of meanings and interpreted biblical texts and heroes in typologic terms.100 They occasionally single out a biblical character, frequently Adam and Eve, Moses, Elijah, Jonah, Daniel, and the minor prophets and treat them as historical insofar as their lives provide concrete moral examples. Basil summarizes this approach in Epistle 2, to Gregory of Nazianzus: study of Scriptures, he says, teaches one that "[not only] the precepts of conduct but also the lives of saintly men, recorded and handed down to us, lie before us like living images of God's government, for our imitation of their good works."101 The importance of these characters is in their representation as moral types and not in any particular concern for the question of historicity. This rhetorical synkrisis, comparing the subject with a hero from the past, is also a common feature of classical epideictic and panegyric oratory. To praise a hero's attention to the public food supply was, according to Aristotle, one of the five "most important subjects" that an orator must know in order to best influence those who were politically "strong" and commercially useful.102 The Old Testament patriarch Joseph is one of the most important of these biblical types in the discussion of poverty relief as it relates to Basil, in both his own sermons and those about his food administration. In Homily 6 Basil explicitly evokes the image of Joseph as a worthy model for imitation. The audience should imitate Joseph in good deeds (ewiotia), love of honor (cjitXxmjua), and splendid munificence (A,a|^7tp6T/r|<;). The image of Joseph is also one that Gregory brings to mind when he refers in Oration 43.36, to Basil and the poor. While Basil was, Gregory says, unable to address the famine crisis by performing food miracles, as Jesus, Moses, and Elijah had,103 he instead used his "word and advice" to release stockpiled grain, gathered together the poor, "obtained contributions" of soup and meat, and attended to their bodily needs. "Such," Gregory says, "was our young furnisher of corn, and second Joseph."104 Joseph's famine activities are not usually the first image of him to which exegetes attend. He is far more often cited for his adventure in sexual temptation and his relationship with his brothers. Exegeses of the Joseph story in antiquity often rel-

99. Chrys., Horn. 81.3-4 in MatL 26:17-18, trans. Prevost and Riddle, NPNF1 10.488-89. 100. See esp. Jean Danielou, From Shadows to Reality: Studies in the Biblical Typology of the Fathers, trans. Dom Wilstan Hibberd (Westminster: Newman Press, 1960). See also James L. Kugel and Rowan A. Greer, Early Biblical Interpretation (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1986). 101. Basil, Ep. 2, trans. Deferrari, St. Basil: The Letters, 1.15. 102. Arisi, Rhet. 1.4.7,11. 103. GNaz, Or. 43.34-35; PG 36.5446-0. 104. Ibid. 43.36; trans. Browne and Swallow, NPN27.4oy; PG 3&.545A.

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egated his food policy to a passing comment or two, at best.105 Yet late-antique Christian bishops do have much in common with the Joseph type of the famine story: both take political control of food policy just as they also, like Joseph, established power using a deliberate control of sex and kinship. Thus, by comparing Basil's beneficence with Joseph's famine policy, Gregory is drawing from both his Christian and classical heritage to elevate Basil as his ideal of the patron-administrator. In this section, I set this model into exegetical context against a background of several other readings of the Genesis text, by briefly comparing Gregory's comments with those of Philo, Josephus, Origen, Basil himself, and Ambrose as they relate to both gift and sale language in discussing the needy poor. These exegetes generally limit their comments on the famine story to praise, excuse, or revise three particular points in the biblical account. The first, which they all praise, is that Joseph's grain policy was, as it were, international, open to all.105 These "all" are understood in various ways: as clients to Joseph the patron/statesman (Philo), as real or fictive kin (Josephus, Basil), as outsiders who must first be circumcised (later rabbinic texts), or as the religious "other" —Jews or Gentiles, depending on who is speaking —who qualify the donor for "extra credit" for his generosity. For example, in their eulogies praising Basil, Amphilochius and Nyssen emphasize that Basil acted broadly on his civic and Christian beneficence to feed Jewish youths, an emphasis that, consciously or not, echoes Josephus's attention to Joseph's Jewish beneficence to Gentiles; Josephus interprets Joseph's universalism in terms of kinship when he says, "Nor did [Joseph] open this market of corn for people of that country only, but strangers had liberty to buy also; being willing that all men, being naturally akin to one another, should have assistance from those that lived in happiness."10'

105. Philo and Josephus, discussed later, include the famine text as a tiny detail in their larger work. Rabbinic comments on Joseph similarly say almost nothing about the famine. Ambrose, discussed later, follows the same pattern, as does Romanes in his sixth-century hymns on Joseph. 1 have not explored Ephrem's unedited Syriac hymns on Joseph; see M. Bedjan, Histoire complete de Joseph par saint Ephrem, poeme inedit en 10 livres (Paris, 1887; rept. with Latin trans., Th. Lamy, S. Ephraemi Syri hymni etsermones quos e codd. Londiniens, Parisiens, et Oxoniens. Descripsit, edidit, Latinitate donavit, variis lectionibus instruxit, notis et prolegomenis illustravit}. Th. Lamy (Paris, 1889), 3.231-639; Bedjan's second edition (Paris, 1891) contains the twelve hymns.Two recent studies on Joseph imagery in Judaism are James Kugel, In Potiphar's House (San Francisco; HarperCollins, 1990) and Maren Niehoff, The Figure of Joseph in PostBiblical Jewish Literature (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1992). These explore the depictions of Joseph as found in Josephus, Philo, and Genesis Kabbah. While Midrash Rabbah presumably existed in some form by the fourth century C.E., there is no evidence it was known to the Cappadocians. GR 89-95 concerns Joseph's famine activities; for English see H. Freedman and Maurice Simon, eds. and trans., Midrash Rabbah (London: Soncino Press, 1983), 820-84. For a collection of these and other Joseph traditions in Judaism, see Louis Ginzberg, The Legends of the Jews (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1969), 2.63-127 (text); 5:342-62 (notes). 106. Later rabbinic tradition suggested that Joseph must have insisted that recipients first be circumcised, but even this tradition recognizes the global aspect of the biblical text and alludes to the shame "over the face of all the earth" of the poverty that followed famine (Rabbah on Genesis [Mikketz] 91.5; trans. Freedman, 839). 107. Josephus, AJ 2.6.1, trans. Joseph Whiston, The Works of Josephus, (1736; rept. Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1987), 59. There is no hint here of the later rabbinic anecdote in which Joseph insisted that all Egyptians be circumcised before they could receive grain. For this tradition see Midrash Rabbah on Genesis (Mikketz) 91.5, trans. H. Freedman, Midrash Rabbah, 838-39.

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The second and third points seem more problematic to the ancient exegetes. The second was money. According to Genesis 41:56-57, Joseph sold grain. He did not organize a gratuitous breadline. Is this a model for imitation or not? The third is the account in Genesis 47:13-26, that the Egyptians gradually sold themselves and their land for food and became perpetual tenants and slaves to Pharoah. What kind of policy model is this? I suggest that the variety of comments on these second and third points reflects each author's approach to issues of religious economics, justice, and patronage. Gregory of Nazianzus does not seem entirely at ease with the biblical account that Joseph practiced patronage by producing an economic profit for his lord and by advancing his own administrative power. Gregory uses this economic detail to argue Basil's moral superiority over Joseph: "For the one made a gain from the famine and bought up Egypt. . . but the other's services were gratuitous, and his succor of the famine gained no profit, having only one object, to gain kindly feelings by kindly treatment, and to gain by his rations of corn the heavenly blessings."108 Nazianzen's praise here for the nonprofit venture may seem to suggest a tension between ideals: the hero ought not to overtly concern himself with market profit in the face of acute human need. Yet Gregory is not consistent. In Oration 16, he interprets Joseph's grain administration as part of just economic policy. Addressing an alarmed and fooddesperate congregation, Gregory says, "Those of us who are buyers and sellers of grain watch the hardship of the seasons in order to grow prosperous and luxuriate in the misfortunes of others, and acquire, not like Joseph, [who acquired] the property of the Egyptians as part of a wide policy (for he could both collect and supply grain duly)."109 Basil may be deemed superior to Joseph in that he does not collect money, but Nyssen's comment that Basil spent his patrimony on the poor110 suggests fiscal transactions in that Basil, like Joseph, also "bought up" the community's supplies when he could not obtain free donations and thus gained power over their distribution. Further, Nazianzen's hyperbolic praise of Basil nowhere criticizes Joseph's activities as a merchant; Oration 43 and 16 simply serve different purposes. Those who could not attain the degree of Basil's generosity might at least imitate Joseph's economic fairness. All three Cappadocians use Joseph's feeding program to point to the ideals of their own day. Gregory of Nyssa's encomium on Basil does not include Joseph in the list of biblical heroes, but in his encomium on Ephrem he does very briefly compare Ephrem with Joseph for his food policy and virtue.111 This identification of Basil with Joseph was not, as noted, just the kind heroizing of his friends; Basil himself actively appropriates the hero model of Joseph. In Homily 6.2, he exhorts the rich to say, "I shall open my barns. I shall be like Joseph in proclaiming the love of my fellow man."112 His appeal to both Joseph's chastity and generosity in Homily 8.8 is an extended comparison, exhorting the congregation to feed the old as Joseph fed Jacob, to feed their enemies as Joseph fed his brothers,

108. GNaz, Or 43.36; trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF 2 7.407; PG 36.5456. 109. Ibid., Or. 16.19, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF 2 7.253-54; PG 35.96oC. no. GNys, Eun. 1.10. 111. GNys, V. Ephrem, PG 46.8440. 112. Basil, Horn. 6.2, trans. Toal, Sunday Sermons, 3.327; PG 31.265A.

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to lament for the young as Joseph lamented over Benjamin, to flee avarice as Joseph fled the woman, and to be a faithful and wise manager of goods, as Joseph was with Potiphar and Pharoah.113 God will reward the one who supplies food with supreme pre-eminence in the life to come, Basil says; this is the tropheus protastates who will stand first in heavenly honor (8.7), correct Adam's gastronomic sin, exceeding the admirable philanthropy of the Greeks, and following the biblical models of the Acts and of Joseph. The Cappadocians were not the first to view the story of Joseph and the famine in terms of global patronage and justice. Philo also constructed Joseph's famine administration as patronage and, like Josephus, those to whom Joseph sold corn as fictive and blood kin. While Josephus exalts Joseph for his international philanthropy, Philo's treatise on Joseph114 particularly emphasizes his administrative practices themselves. Philo, who may have had some first-hand familiarity with famine in Egypt,115 presents Joseph as the ideal civic leader who is characterized by foresight, self-control, justice, and compassion: He first ordered all the stores to be thrown open, thinking that he would thus increase the courage of those who saw them, and, so to speak, feed their souls with comforting hopes before he fed their bodies. Afterwards, through the commissioners of victualling he sold to those who wished to buy, always keeping a keener eye on the future than on the present.116 Philo has no quarrel with Joseph selling grain to the needy because, he argues: The young man's honesty was exceedingly great, so much so that [he] refused to appropriate to himself a single drachma, contented with nothing more than the gifts with which the king repaid his services. The excellency with which he managed Egypt, as though it were a single household, and also the other famine-stricken lands and nations was beyond all words, and he dispensed the lands and food as was suitable, looking not only to present profit but also to future advantage. . . ,117 This theme of "future advantage" matched both economic and philosophical ideals of Graeco-Roman culture. Niehoff has identified a number of ways Josephus and Philo's Joseph stories incorporate Graeco-Roman ideals into their accounts, such as

113. Ibid. 8.8; PG 31.32560. 114. Philo, De Josepho trans. F. H. Colson, Philo, LCL (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1935), 5.138-271. 115. Rome's Egyptian supply of grain was shipped from Alexandria. The "worldwide" famine under Claudius (Acts 11:28) would be dated late in Philo's life; we do not know when he wrote De Josepho. Famine in Egypt was a recurrent worry to the Roman authorities, and not uncommon in the ancient world. At the end of the first century, for example, the Nile rose less than usual and resulted in a famine so severe in Egypt that Trajan ordered the Egyptian grain fleet to return from Rome to Egypt to feed the starving Egyptians. For the Claudian famine see Kenneth Gapp, "The Universal Famine under Claudius." HTR 28 (1935): 258-65. Gapp dates the Claudian famine to approximately 45 C.E.; Josephns also refers to famine in A/ 20.51-53,101 and 3:32off, which is usually dated to 46-47 C.F..: For the late first century C.E. famine, cf. P. Oxy 2958 (2 Dec 99); Plin., Panegyricus 31, cited in Rickman. The Corn Supply of Ancient Rome, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980), 115. 116. Philo De Josepho 27.159—62, trans. Colson, Philo 6.217-19. 117. Ibid., 43.258-60, trans. Colson, Philo 6.265-67.

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the symposiastic structure of the reception feast Joseph gives his brothers.118 Josephus and Philo's exegetical treatment seems to align Joseph's behavior with Hellenistic ideals of food and land-related euergetism. Joseph's role under Pharoah was comparable to the Roman praefectus annonae at Alexandria — an office well in place before Philo was born —who "coordinated grain supplies and shipment for Rome and planned ahead to avoid famine."119 Cultural revision of the biblical text is most evident in the way different authors treat the third interpretive variant of the text, the enslavement account of Egypt. The Cappadocians hardly mention it. Nazianzen says Joseph "bought up Egypt," but it is not clear whether he is referring to grain or to Egyptians. Josephus, however, and later Origen and Ambrose, capitalize on this detail, Josephus to heroize his namesake, the Christian authors to demonize either Egyptians or the "worldliness" they represent. Where Genesis suggests that Joseph made the Egyptians into perpetual tenant farmers (Gen. 47:23-25), Josephus asserts that Joseph afterward restored them to their prior full status as landowners: But, when their misery ceased . . . Joseph came to every city, and gathered the people thereto belonging together, and gave them back entirely the land which, by their own consent, the king might have possessed alone. . . . He also exhorted them to look on it as everyone's own possession,. . . and to pay, as a tribute to the king, the fifth part of the fruits for the land. . . . The [Egyptians] rejoiced upon their becoming unexpectedly owners of their lands. . . , 120

This restoration makes Joseph into a charitable benefactor to the people and not simply a just administrator of grain. This exegetical emphasis on restored ownership is one completely absent from the biblical text, yet one that perhaps well served Josephus's purpose, pointing out to Roman readers the superior justice of this Jewish model, without—overtly—comparing it to his own experience of the way Romans treated Jewish landownership. Ambrose also emphasizes a positive result: "They looked on it not as the selling of their rights but as the recovery of their welfare. . . . For they had lost nothing of their own but had received a new right. . . . Never again did Egypt suffer from such a famine."121 Ambrose's optimism may suggest a lack of awareness that Egypt, Rome's greatest "breadbasket," did not always have enough bread for its own population. Yet he too may have been influenced by political realities, such as the Italian grain shortage of 388, which diverted attention to the power of the Egyptian grain supply. Similarly, both Josephus, in Rome, and Philo, in Alexandria, were also acutely aware of the personal losses that follow political change. Each stood at complementary political poles in the larger network of imperial grain dependence, and each would therefore have a stake in calling the reader's attention to the ideal moral qualities expected of those who administer grain justly. The Cappadocians use the Joseph image to focus on both literal economics and spiritual growth. While Basil and Gregory share with Josephus and Philo a concern

118. 119. 120. 121.

Niehoff, The Figure of Joseph, 81-82. Rickman, The Com Supply, 92. Josephus, A/ 2.7.7, f ran s. Whiston, The Works ofjosephus, 65; my emphasis. Ambrose, Off. 2.16.80-81; trans. H. De Romestin, NPNF210.55-56.

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for a moral lesson, an emphasis on kinship identities and political order, there is no evidence that the Cappadocians were directly influenced by either Josephus's or Philo's image of Joseph.122 It is much more likely that the Cappadocians' typology of Joseph was influenced by early Christian texts, and of course the most notable influential possibility is that of Origen. Unfortunately, from what Quasten aptly calls "the wreckage of his works,"123 Origen's extant comments on Joseph are limited to two short homilies available only in Rufinus's expurgated Latin.124 Here Origen devotes some attention to an exclusively allegoric reading of Joseph's famine administration. For Origen, faminerelated hunger is interpreted allegorically as a consequence of sin, reminiscent of the tone of De siccitate but unconcerned with material "reality." While Origen, like Josephus and Philo, presents Joseph as a model for the just man, Origen emphasizes precisely what both Josephus and Philo expunge: Joseph's sale of Egypt into servitude to Pharaoh. However, Origen blames it entirely on the Egyptians, "because the Egyptians naturally live a degrading life and quickly become slaves to all manners of vice."125 In contrast, those "whose food is to do the will of the father in heaven" and who nourish their soul with "bread which has come down from heaven" will never suffer the privations of famine. 126 Origen uses many of the same biblical examples Basil will later use in Homily 8: Elijah, the widow of Sidon, the famine proclamations of Amos, and the example of the apostles. For Origen the text is above all an allegory and yet in places it seems to prefigure Basil's later emphasis on hunger as an allegory for greed: Watch out therefore, yourselves, not to be like these Egyptians pressed with hunger. Don't let yourselves be taken up with the cares of the world, nor enchained in the bonds of avarice, nor softened by the excess of luxury. If you do, you will be strangers to the nourishment of wisdom, which the church of God does not cease to present to you. For if you close your ears to that which is read and expounded in church, you will without doubt feel the famine of the Word.127

This same imagery of spiritual nourishment is used by Gregory of Nazianzus in his depiction of Basil's famine relief. And Basil seeks in Homily 8 to address and correct this same imagery of spiritual famine following willful neglect of the word. Ambrose's sermon on Joseph128 also draws heavily on this allegorical tradition of the hero, comparing Joseph's economic exchange with Christ's "feeding" imagery (7.41-42): "Christ opened his granaries and sold . . . not to a few men in Judaea, but to all so that he might be believed by all peoples. . . . For all men that have not been fed by Christ are hungry. Let us buy the nourishment with which we can avert

122. Although Basil explicitly refers to Josephus's telling of the Maccabean account of cannibalism: PG 31.324A, citing BJ 7.8. 123. J. Quasten, Patrology. (Westminster, Md.: Christian Classics, 1992), 2.81. 124. Or., Horn, in Gen. 15-16. For text see SC 7, 350-94. 125. Ibid., 16.1.136. 126. Ibid., 16.3.139. 127. Ibid., 16.4.141; my translation; for a translation of both texts in full, see Ronald E. Heine, Origen: Homilies on Genesis and Exodus, FC 71 (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University Press, 1982), 203-24. 128. Ambrose, De hseph., trans. M. P. McHugh, FC 65 (Washington, D.C.: Fathers of the Church, 1972), 189-237.

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famine. . . . Christ does not ask money but faith." For Ambrose,"holy" Joseph's sale of grain was a biblical model that, he argued, the clergy ought to imitate in their own distribution of material goods: "He acted so that the people should help themselves by their payments and should not in their time of need seek help from others."129 In conclusion, the Cappadocians' use of Joseph's famine-imagery and Gregory's construct of Basil as a "second Joseph" function within a broader historical move to locate the solution to spiritual and physical hunger in the same hands: those of the priest, bishop, and increasingly political Christian leaders of late antiquity. While there is no evidence that Basil or Nazianzen explicitly drew on either Josephus or Philo's image of Joseph, the texts reveal a common concern to make this biblical hero politically relevant to local food policies of beneficence. The differences in these texts suggest the various concerns of each different audience: Philo on the ideal Jewish statesman in tumultuous Alexandria, Josephus on subjugated Jews and his Roman patrons, Origen on the ultimate spiritual meaning of all reality, the Cappadocians and Ambrose on congregations and clergy with a new power over civic funds and material resources, but faced at the same time with acute human need and economic uncertainties. Further, these differences may influence the political images of religious power in these texts. Nazianzen's emphasis on free grain may reflect a Christian attempt to relocate divine power from the emperor to the Christian God in terms of the traditional grain dole to the imperial capitals: as citizens of the Heavenly Kingdom, needy Christians similarly warrant a free grain dole under the authority of their ultimate patron and his representatives: the bishops.130 The Cappadocian allusions to Joseph follow a traditional pattern in which he is the ideal tropheus, a patron who knew how to use the system to practice divine justice. Nazianzen does not overtly compare Basil's political savvy with Joseph's, but certainly Basil's famine relief, as Gregory describes it, must have involved a number of "deals" with those Aristotle called the strong and commercially useful classes of people in the State.131 Each text presumes Joseph's virtue even when that virtue is used as a sort of textual trampoline from which later cultural ideals or leaders are launched into more immediate focus.

Conclusion Basil's Homilies 6 and 7 and HPsi4b present a variety of images, stage-sets against which the poor parade their need before an audience whose victimizing responses, the Cappadocians suggest, reveal their own spiritual poverty and illness. In a cultural world in which fiscal language and gift language were often also inseparable, "giv129. Ambrose, Off. 2.16.80; trans. H. De Romestin, NPNF210.55-56. 130. Of note, later rabbinic exegesis discusses an aspect of the text which all these other texts entirely ignore: the Genesis 47:22, 26 exemption of Egyptian priests from Joseph's purchase and sale policy. The priests (like later Christian bishops and monks) continued to have tax-free status over their property and also continued to receive free food allotments. I leave it to rabbinic scholars to explore whether this textual emphasis related simply to a concern over the biblical value of the priestly class, or whether the emphasis on the fringe benefits of the priesthood was part of a late-antique competition between Jewish and Christian philanthropy. 131. E.g., the account that Basil persuaded Valens to donate land for the poor and several of Basil's epistles that request local officials to grant tax exemption for Basil's ptochotropheion.

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ing" and "buying" are complementary rather than contradictory concepts. The poor — here those without market power over even their own garments — take on in their very body itself the power of both earthly and heavenly coinage. By redefining the fiscal identity of the poor in relation to both civic and "natural" justice, following themes also found in his Hexaemeron and HPsi4a.6, Basil essentially draws and shapes them into coinage for the church. In their corporal ability to effect redemption, the poor in these sermons speak only to beg from the rich or to witness after death before the Judge against those who had no mercy. The poor have no moral identity beyond this power of cosmic witness. In the end they remain a rightful part of the created order, a body Basil metaphorically holds up before his audience as the stuff against which God will measure civic — and with it religious — justice. Thus the condemnation of usury and greed is not the end or chief goal of these texts. The fiscal body, transferred to a new treasury, as it were, needs to be firmly linked to that context which will assure continued social security for all who are "vested" in the system. While Basil's sermons advocating a civic, material response to poverty may have appealed to fellow Christian moralists, the responses he demanded, which Nyssen supports and Ambrose elaborates, called for social change at a level far beyond that which his society was willing to accept. To open one's storehouse is one thing; to write off in one strike the anticipated income and social obligations of each of one's debtors is quite something else. The texts suggest that loans, debt, and usury functioned to varying degrees between virtually all financially interactive groups in lateantique society.132 Even within a cultural system well understood by his audience, Basil advocated a practice which would — and surely he knew this — completely undercut the existing dynamics of power. Basil's images of righteousness in HPsi4b are those of civic mercy, humanity, and nature. The injustice of the miser and creditor is characterized by his failure to imitate the mercy of God (HPs^b.j). This imitation of divine mercy ought, Basil implies, to be both a function of and a benefit granted to humanity: philanthropia. One ought, he says in chapter 5, to imitate the philanthropia of Scripture when it commands, "Lend without expecting anything in return." Basil's miser chooses instead to practice misanthropia under the guise of philanthropia. The rich thus regard the poor as associates and "friends" only when the poor consent to be victimized by high interest-bearing loans. Entering into fiscal debt was, in the fourth century as often today, a transaction characterized, as Millett puts it, by emotions "ranging from despondency to a kind of reckless bravado."133 The voice of the poor constructed in these texts are those chased under the bed by the moneylender, until the bed itself and all else is taken from them, those impoverished by famine, greed, illness, political disorder, and social extortion. As one writer has put it, "[Ejven from the social point of view, being poor is expensive."134 While the voices of the poor in these texts may sound "real" enough, they are ever reflected at best indirectly through the angled prism of the 132. With the possible exception of monks. Also, I have found nothing on the role debt may have played among slaves themselves in the ancient world. 133. Millett, Lending and Borrowing in Ancient Athens, xiii. 134. Nils Christie, Forword in Unni Wilkan, Life among the Poor in Cairo, trans. Ann Henning (London: Tavistock, i

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Christian homily. Occasionally, however, a text suggests the voices themselves, speaking for themselves. We may have one example of this is in a well-known Egyptian list, on papyrus, of questions addressed to an oracle around 300 C.E., with which this chapter begins. While Egypt is not Cappadocia, the voice of those facing economic uncertainties may share the same tone across the Roman Empire, and perhaps across time. The deity(s) being addressed in this list is (are) unknown. The questions, however, clearly illustrate the social and financial concerns of those seeking a religious response to their economic difficulties: "Am I to be sold? . . . Shall I get the money?... Am I to profit? . .. Am I to become a beggar? . . . Am I to get my own?" It is not clear from the text whether this list is a collection of questions from one individual or if it represents a collective submission to the deity; nor does this matter. The perpetual problem of poverty and debt as it contributed to social disorder in the ancient world may be expressed in the anxiety of these questions, questions which may also have haunted those in Basil's audience, who faced fiscal imbalance in their own bodies.

4

Diseased and Holy The Peri Philoptochias Sermons and the Transforming Body

The history of what constitutes a "cure" in a given society is a history of that society's values: for the rhythm of the cure shows what is acceptable as a plausible way of giving form, and so the hope of resolution to ... the nebulous and intractable fact of suffering." Peter Brown, "The Rise and Function of the Holy Man in Late Antiquity"

he third dominant image of the poor body in the Cappadocian sermons, and the final image of the poor explored in this study, is that of disease. Although Basil refers frequently to his own ailments, it is the Gregories' sermons on leprosy where sickness is most clearly constructed as a dominant characteristic of the poor who are "other" in society. For both Gregories, this sickness of the leper is a characteristic that links them to deity by their participation in, and power to transform a disordered reality. This chapter explores this image as we find it in Gregory of Nyssa's and Gregory of Nazianzus's sermons "On the Love of the Poor," especially focusing on the medical images of the leper and the implications of this, in these texts, for the incarnational theology of the two Gregories, with particular attention to the concept of mutability in Gregory of Nyssa. Although only Nazianzen's sermon is actually titled Peri philoptochias, all three texts will be considered under this title for convenience in this chapter; Nyssen's sermons are traditionally known by the Latin equivalent, De pauperibus amandis. Historically identified by its effect on the skin, leprosy divides self from other by its manifestation on that very part of the human body where self ends and other begins. To touch the skin of the leper is, in biblical tradition, to threaten an ancient boundary. The Peri philoptochias sermons explicitly demand a deliberate boundarycrossing that will, they assert, effect healing and transformation, both for the homeless, who are physically ill, and for those who help them, who are spiritually sick. Each Gregory was, in himself, a theological writer of profound magnitude. The influence of both in their own day and throughout the history of patristic thought,

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extends far beyond their understanding of the poor, lepers, illness, and healing.1 This discussion necessarily limits them, and it may be viewed as somewhat egregious, after two full chapters on Basil, to explore both Gregories' Peri philoptochias sermons together in one. Yet this is necessary. It is also, I believe, fairly proportional to each author's emphasis on involuntary poverty as such. For Basil, eager to assert himself in administrative and civic policy, the place of the poor was a vital issue in his own political self-definition. In contrast, Gregory of Nazianzus was continually fleeing the demands of public life, and Gregory of Nyssa, apparently an able and willing bishop and diplomatic ambassador for the Nicene party, wrote little on the poor apart from these two sermons. The Gregories' three sermons on the sick poor demonstrate a very serious concern for the plight of these outcasts, and the images are so similar that in places each author's words seem little more than a variant of the other's work. In fact, though, they are not the same, displaying distinct, unique, individual differences beween the two friends. For example, Gregory of Nyssa's imagery of healing and holy "contagion" as it relates to divine mutability is powerfully his own, and his civic imagery is also sometimes stronger than Nazianzen's in the way he discusses honor as a function of public games,2 dignity, and kinship. Nonetheless, the texts must be discussed together, not only to better understand their similarities, differences, and the social situation they envision and prescribe, but also to understand the thought of the two Gregories apart from Basil, and maybe even, in some measure, independent of him. While this chapter ends by focusing particularly on Nyssen's understanding of incarnation, I seek to correct this imbalance, to some very small degree, in chapter 5, by exploring food crisis, civic identity, kinship, and healing in Nazianzen's dialogue-sermon, "On His Father's Silence," as it brings these themes together in one vivid appeal. While the two Gregories clearly influenced one another in the Peri philoptochias sermons, it is not entirely clear who most influenced whom on which particulars. It is generally held that Nazianzen's text was written down and presumably delivered, first. The theory that Nyssen copied Nazianzen fits his known skill as an imitator, and the friendship between the two men, which was clearly warm and lively. Nazianzen may have preached (Or. 11) at Nyssen's ordination in the summer of 372.' Jerome describes a meeting in which Gregory of Nyssa read "to Gregory Nazianzen and myself a work against Eunomius."4 Because Gregory's first book of his treatise against Eunomius is dated within a year of Basil's death, it is most likely that this reading took place during the council of Constantinople in 381, although

1. For a biographical study of Gregory of Nazianzus see John A. T. McGuckin, St. Gregory of Nazianzus: An Intellectual Biography (Crestwood, N.Y.: St. Vladimir's Seminary Press, forthcoming). For Gregory of Nyssa, see Jean Danielou, Le iv*"" siecle: Gregoire de Nysse et son milieu (Paris: Institut Catholique de Paris, 1960) and more recently Anthony Meredith, Gregory of Nyssa, The Early Church Fathers (London: Routledge, 1999). 2. GNys, Paup. i; GNO 9.1:100. All translations from Nyssen's two poverty sermons are mine. 3. For the critical edition, see M.-A. Calvet-Sebasti, eel. and trans., Gregoire de Nazianze: Discours 6-12, SC 405 (Paris: Editions du CERF, 1995), 328-47. 4. Jer., De vir. ill. 128; for Latin see O. Gebhardt ed., TU 14.1 (Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs'sche, 1896), 54. For Sophronius's Greek translation, see ibid., 60.

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mention of that city occurs neither in Jerome nor the Contra Eunomium. Jerome was present as Paulinus of Antioch's secretary. It is also possible that Nyssen had a draft of his treatise in hand when he traveled to the council of Antioch in 379, which Jerome may have also attended, since his close alliance with Paulinus went back several years. However, although the Antioch council was Meletius's attempt to resolve the Antiochene schism once and for all, and led to Gregory of Nazianzus's eventual appointment at Constantinople,5 there is no evidence that. Nazianzen was present at the Antioch council; he was probably still in monastic retreat in Seleucia. Nyssen played a prominent role in the council of Constantinople, perhaps preaching both an inaugural address and the sermon for Nazianzen's consecration. Here, too, he delivered Meletius's funeral oration soon after the council opened.6 Nazianzen may have had a significant influence in persuading Nyssen to give up secular life and join the clergy; in his letter urging this, Nazianzen teases Nyssen that he is himself even borrowing "a phrase from your own art" in the argument.7 The two may have known one another from childhood.8 They conversed often about the ascetic life. Around 360 Basil wrote Nazianzen, "My brother Gregory wrote to me that he had long wished to visit us, and added that you had formed the same purpose."9 In the surviving texts it is usually Nazianzen who mentions Nyssen, and clearly the friendship meant much to him. After Basil's death he wrote Nyssen what is probably not false, although it is standard in the genre of consolation: "What time or what words shall comfort me, except your company and conversation?"10

Gregory of Nyssa Pierre Maraval called Gregory of Nyssa "cet homme si secret."11 It is clear from his life that this privacy had little to do with solitude. Born around 335, Gregory was the third son among his parents' four sons and five daughters.12 He grew up, like his siblings, first educated under Macrina's guidance at home, and then probably under local teachers. His works reflect an excellent traditional education, but there is no evidence that he left Cappadocia for it. While Gregory of Nazianzus is universally

5. For the relationship between the council of Antioch and Gregory's appointment to Constantinople, see McGuckin, St. Gregory of Nazianzus (forthcoming). 6. For Nyssen's presence at the council of Constantinople, see J. Danielou, "Le mariage de Gregoire de Nysse et la chronologic de sa vie," REAug 2. (1956): 71-78, and N. Q. King, "The 150 Holy Fathers of the Council of Constantinople 381 A.D.," TU (= Studia Patristica) 63 (1957), 635-41. For the tradition that he preached the inaugural address and the sermon at Nazianzen's consecration, see Moore, NPNF 2 5.7; for Moore's English translation of Nyssen's funeral oration on Meletius, see NPNF 2 5.513-17. 7. GNaz, Ep. i, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF2 7. 459; = Ep. 11.3 in Gallay, Saint Gregoire de Nazianze, Lettres (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1967), 1.16-18. 8. Gregory of Nazianzus says the years in Athens "brought me to know Basil more perfectly, though he had not been unknown to me before" (Or 43.14), trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF 2 7.400. 9. Basil, Ep. 14, trans. Deferrari, St. Basil: The Letters, 1.107. 10. GNaz, Ep. 76, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF2 7.461; Gallay, Saint Gregoire de Nazianze: Lettres, 1.93-94. 11. Pierre Maraval, Gregoire de Nysse: Lettres, SC 363 (Paris: Editions du Cerf, 1990), 17. 12. Callahan, ed., V. Macr, GNO Ascetica (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1952), 8.1: 376.

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regarded as the greater rhetorical genius of the two, Gregory of Nyssa devoted himself more deliberately to its civic, rather than ecclesial or monastic, practice. Although appointed a "reader" in the church, he did not pursue a clerical career but, against family and friends' pressure, became a teacher of rhetoric; the first of his two Peri philoptochias sermons begins with an analogy from the classroom of those who teach young children. Gregory of Nazianzus's Epistle i sharply criticizes Nyssen for this secular choice. It is unclear to what extent Julian's proscription against Christian rhetors may have affected him. He married 13 and probably experienced first-hand the anxiety of parents over children's survival, which he notes is "well understood by everyone" (De virg. 3). Basil appointed him bishop of Nyssa in 372. Gregory's personality seems to have been more temperamentally irenic than Nazianzen's, and he was apparently a committed, if not always successful, mediator in situations of conflict. This tendency toward ecclesiastical mediation first appeared in 371 when he forged several letters between Basil and their uncle Gregory, also a bishop, a reconciliation attempt that not surprisingly backfired when the hoax was discovered and enraged Basil (Epp. 58-60). Undaunted, Gregory continued to encourage clerical dialogue and unity throughout his life. He spent his last decade traveling between Nyssa, Constantinople, Armenian Sebaste, Arabia, and Jerusalem as an imperial ambassador, engaged in ecclesiastical negotiations seeking conflict resolution.14 The city of Sebaste resolved its conflict by ordaining him bishop against his will; this new crisis was resolved only by a subsequent election of his youngest brother, Peter; it is to Peter, as bishop of Sebaste, that Gregory addresses his treatises against Eunomius. Gregory's first-hand familiarity with marriage probably strongly influenced his matter-of-fact references to sexual function and the physical body in Peri philoptochias and in his "Great Catechetical Oration," making him more comfortable than Basil or Nazianzen with what he regarded as simply an aspect of mortality. His tenure as bishop of Nyssa from 372 to his death, probably around 394, was

13. Gregory of Nazianzus's Epigr. 164 extols a woman named Theosebia, whom he calls "daughter of the illustrious Emmelia, who was the companion [a\>^t>Y€] of the great Gregory" (Pierre Waltz, ed., Anthologie Grecque [Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1928] 6.81). His epigram on Basil and Nyssen's mother, Emmelia, says of her children, married and unmarried, that "three were priests; one (feminine) was the companion of a priest [iepfjoi; avfyyoc,]" (Epigr. 161; Waltz, 6.81). In Virg.T, Nyssen laments, "No one can climb up to [glorious virginity] who has once planted his foot upon the secular life. We are but spectators of others' blessings"; trans. Moore, NPNF2 5.345; the context includes a reference to marriage. Danielou accepts Gregory's marriage, suggesting that perhaps there were two Theosebias, and that the Theosebia of Nazianzen's letter was Nyssen's wife, with whom he continued to live in a conjugal relationship even during his tenure as bishop; see Danielou, "Le manage de Gregoire de Nysse et la chronolgie de sa vie," REAug 2 (1956), 71-81. Danielou does not consider Nazianzen's epigrams a strong argument for Theosebia being Nyssen's sister instead of his wife. Syzugos was most commonly a conjugal term. Perhaps, Danielou suggests, Gregory indeed had a sister by the same name who also married a priest. It is also not impossible that Gregory's wife might be called a "daughter" of her mother-in-law. It seems to me that these texts leave the question of Theosebia's identity open, although they cast no doubt on Gregory's assertion that he did marry (someone). For more on Gregory's rhetoric about celibacy and marriage, see Mark D. Hart, "Reconciliation of Body and Soul: Gregory of Nyssa's Deeper Theology of Marriage," TS 51 (1990): 450-78 and idem, "Gregory of Nyssa's Ironic Praise of the Celibate Life," The Heythrop Journal 33 (1992): 1-19. 14. GNys, Ep. 2 in Maraval, Lettres, 31-38; for English trans, see Moore, NPNF 2 5.382-83.

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apparently uneventful except for a two-year exile, when the Arians at Nyssa deposed him in absentia in 376 over a charge of mismanaged funds. He returned from exile in 378 after Valens's death. Apart from his description of the warm reception he received on returning to his Nyssa,15 there is little information about his congregation, and we know nothing about its social structure. This unremarkable career is so smooth, at least in contrast to the public controversies and agonies that characterized Basil and Nazianzen, that it might be easy to minimize Gregory of Nyssa as a sort of administrative bungler, a passive, obedient brother to Basil, a holy fool of sorts in his commitment to peace and church unity, a people-pleaser, well liked but hard to pin down: a chameleon. He was none of these things. Only his Arian opponents charged him with bungling. Basil was exasperated with the forged letters, but only because he was deceived by them; the discovery of one forged letter may mark the bungler, but three seem more like a deliberate prank to try to defuse an otherwise tense situation. Basil was ready enough to protect his brother against municipal arrest in 376, possibly by providing him with his hiding place, and took responsibility for his own role in Gregory's appointment: "If anything was deficient in the canonical procedure, those who did the consecrating are responsible, not he who by every necessity was forced to undertake the service."16 Unlike Nazianzen, Gregory of Nyssa never speaks against Basil, although his treatise on Macrina frankly describes Basil's overbearing arrogance when he first arrived home after his education and travels.17 Gregory's skill as an ambassador (and repeated appointments suggests that he did have ability in this area), his commitment to church unity, and even his decision, against family pressure, to teach rhetoric rather than practice church politics and administration, suggest a strong, warm, sensitive personality who took as much pleasure in listening as in leading. This passion for a universal integration, so apparent in his low-profile, interactive approach to politics, is also a dominant force in his theology. It profoundly influences his view of creation, the incarnation, and the theological context of the destitute and sick poor. Gregory's surviving works are all dated after his ordination, but they consistently follow traditional rhetorical forms and reveal a solid education in classical method and sources. Both his Christianity and the individual personality of his correspondent influence his choice of texts: in a letter to Eupatrios, who eagerly pursued classical literature but cared little for Scripture, Gregory deliberately began with an image from Homer rather than his usual Scripture, telling Eupatrios precisely what he is doing here and why.18 One of his letters to Libanius19 is nothing more than an extended metaphor that likens the latter's letter to a rose and to romantic love: Libanius's thorny barbs only increase Gregory's desire for further dialogue. In this verbal sparring with an opponent, Gregory readily uses the courteous plays on words that typically characterized paideia. 15. Ep. 6 in Maraval, Lettres, 164-71 (= Ep. 3 in NPNF 2 5.529-30). 16. Basil, Ep. 225, trans. Deferrari, St. Basil: The Letters 3.325. 17. PG 46.965, cf. Callahan, V. Macr., GNO 8.1: 377, esp. lines 11-14. 18. Ep. 11, Maraval, Lettres, 184-89. 19. Maraval's Ep. 28, falsely attributed to Basil (Ep. 342).

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For the Cappadocians, and in fact any religious expression that is dependent on literacy, it is the letter, the written sermon, the treatise, that functions in society as what Marcel Mauss described, a social exchange, as a "gift" that is also a signifier of power. Like Mauss's shells and bracelets in Melanesia, letters in late antiquity were an exchange currency between the religious leaders, in this case bishops, supplicants, church groups, and those in civic administration. Like boxed presents, but unlike speeches, letters and treatises may be handled, owned, displayed, and passed on. To possess a theological letter or treatise was in some sense to participate in its essence either by agreement with its tenets or by use of it as a tool for constructing an opposing statement. To pass on a letter or treatise implied above all the transmission of meaning. As in Mauss's communities, correspondents and audiences in late antiquity were more than the passive recipients of the gift. Those who received these gifts —words delivered in rhetorical formulas, wrapped either in the live performance of the reading or in the exchange of a material object —were expected to act in obligatory response. Letters of recommendation created or strengthened an obligation of the subject to the author but might not obligate the recipient. Doctrinal treatises expected moral reform or response. In this way the rhetorical acts of traditional paideia were at the same time a gift exchange practiced by Christian rhetors to establish or strengthen relationships of power by perpetuating a cycle of obligations based in gift patronage. This is a dominant theme in all three Cappadocian bishops, and the language of the word as gift is one in which Gregory of Nyssa and Gregory of Nazianzus especially seemed to delight. Gregory of Nyssa frequently refers to his letters or treatises as a "gift." The treatise against Eunomius is constructed as a gift for his brother, Peter, and his letter to the bishop, Eusebius of Chalcis, is presented rhetorically as an Easter gift: Now our offering which is tendered for your acceptance in this letter is the letter itself, in which there is not a single word wreathed with the flowers of rhetoric . . . to make it to be deemed a gift at all in literary circles, but the mystical gold, which is wrapped up in the faith of Christians, as in a packet, must be presented to you, after being unwrapped, as far as possible, by these lines, and showing its hidden brilliancy.20 In Nyssen's sermons on the love of the poor, the gift goes beyond the word to the power of the sick and leprous poor to effect spiritual and cosmic healing that is part of the greater gift of redemption.

Gregory of Nazianzus: The Gift of Words and the Body of Christ If Gregory of Nyssa is regarded as a diplomat and mystic, Gregory of Nazianzus is considered "the most important figure in the synthesis of classical rhetoric and Christianity"21 and "the greatest Greek orator since Demosthenes."22 He was the son of a bishop, trained in rhetoric and philosophy with Basil in Athens, an eager and devoted

20. Ep. 4, Maraval, Lettres, 148-49, trans. Moore, NPNF^.jzy. 21. Kennedy, Greek Rhetoric under Christian Emperors, 215. 22. Idem, A New History of Classical Rhetoric, 261.

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monk, seeking the contemplative life but pushed into leadership roles by means he ever called unfair; perhaps Gregory's most assertive political act was his dramatic resignation as bishop of Constantinople in 381. His conflicts with Basil are infamous. His sense of duty to care for his aged parents clearly tortured him, although he presents himself as a classic image of the faithful son, and it was an image he was glad enough to use to avoid politics. Yet he was not a man who sought silence. He loved the paideia that so deeply formed his social and theological identity. He confesses his unrestrained fondness for the well-ordered word in his diatribe against Julian and Julian's law against Christians teaching the classics: I must carry back my words to the subject of words . . . and endeavor to the best of my ability to advocate their case . . . and let everyone share in my indignation who takes pleasure in words. . . . Words alone I cleave to, and I do not begrudge the toils by land and sea that have supplied me with them. . . . May mine be the possession of words and his, too, whoever loves me, which possession I embraced and still embrace first of all after the things that be first of all — I mean religion and hope beyond the visible world — so that if, according to Pindar "what is one's own weighs heavily," speech in their defense is incumbent upon me and it is especially just for me, perhaps more than anyone else, to express my gratitude to words for words by word of mouth. 2 '

Gregory saw no reason to reject classical paideia or any of the traditional forms involved in skillful dialectic. His theological orations against the Eunomians (Or 2831) are rooted in classical linguistic logic and rhetorical technique.24 "What can mean more to the Word than thinking beings?" Gregory asked, "since their very existence is an act of supreme goodness."25 A theologian and poet more eloquent but less "mystical" than Nyssen, Gregory of Nazianzus is deeply concerned to use paideia in Christian self-expression and theology. Norris identifies Nazianzen as a "philosophical rhetorician,"26 not because he wrote any handbooks of theory or the technical devices of philosophical rhetoric (he did not), but because the rhetorical expression of philosophical concepts intrinsically forms the manner of his own style and thinking. Although Gregory was ever fleeing center stage in terms of church leadership, it seems that he never once considered putting his rhetorical gift to any significant use other than the exposition of Christian doctrine.27 His ready supply of theological metaphors is evident even when he simply asks Amphilochius to pray for him when he is ill: For the tongue of a priest meditating of [sic] the Lord raises the sick. . . . Loose the great mass of my sins when you lay hold of the Sacrifice of Resurrection. . . . By your numerous letters you have trained my soul to science. Most reverend friend, cease

23. GNaz, Or. 4.100, trans. C. W. King, Julian the Emperor (London: George Bell, 1888), 67. 24. See discussion in Frederick W. Norris, Faith Gives Fullness to Reasoning: The Five Theological Orations of Gregory of Nazianzen (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1991). 25. GNaz, Or. 28.11, trans. Lionel Wickham and Frederick Williams, in Norris, Faith Gives Fullness to Reasoning, 230. 26. Norris, Faith Gives Fullness to Reasoning, 25. 27. I mean in terms of vocational intent. Certainly he uses the rich metaphorical imagery of rhetoric constantly in even nontheological themes in his letters: to tease, chide, entertain, and praise.

142 The Hungry Are Dying not both to pray and to plead for me when you draw down the Word by your word, when with a bloodless cutting you sever the Body and Blood of the Lord, using your voice for the glaive.28

This ability of the Christian priest to use the spoken word to effect the power of the divine Word in society is, for Gregory, an essential part of that divine participation in incarnation that characterizes the Christian's sharing in God's gift to the human race. Gregory's sermon "On the Love of the Poor" (Or. 14), even more than Basil's sermons on poverty, functions consciously within the Christian application of classical paideia and its rhetoric. The language Gregory uses to defend his arguments for compassionate philanthropia and philoptochia consistently argues for the "rights" or entitlement of the poor to relief in terms of patronage, the gift of alms, essential kinship, and christology. Like Basil, Nazianzen's discussion of social issues depends much on the euergetism of the classical patron, but of the three Cappadocians it is Nazianzen whose sermon on the poor most fully identifies the body of the poor with Christ. This is most striking in the way he concludes Oration 14, with an explicit image of the poor as Christ: I honour that purse of Christ which encourages me to the care of the poor [7iTo>xoTpO(|>icK;].... I am fearful of that "left hand side" and of "the goats" . . . because they have not ministered to Christ through those in need. .. . [Wjhile there is yet time, visit Christ in his sickness, let us give to Christ to eat, let us clothe Christ in his nakedness, let us do honour to Christ, and not only at table, [or] with precious ointments [or] in his tomb [or] with gold, frankincense and myrrh, . . . but Let us give him this honour in his needy ones [Seouevrov], in those who lie on the ground here before us this day. . . ,29

This image of the poor body as Christ is present throughout Gregory's sermon. Those who share Gregory's compassion are "Christ-lovers and poor-lovers"(i4.9). The ultimate fate of material goods turns on the reality that "we must either leave all things for C h r i s t . . . or else we must share our possessions with Christ" (14.18). The audience, Gregory says, will show "reverence for Christ as often as you show your-

28. GNaz, Ep. 171, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF2 7.469. 29. GNaz, Or. 14.39-40, trans. M F. Toal, The Sunday Sermons of the Great Fathers (Chicago: Henry Regnery, 1963), 43-64. Unless noted, all translations from Or. 14 are Toal's. A critical edition is wanting but forthcoming from Sources Chretiennes by Claire Helly (Marie-Ange Calvet, pers. comm.}; currently the most available Greek text is PG 35.855-910. For a newer English translation, see soon Brian E. Daley, Gregory ofNazianzus, The Early Church Fathers (London: Routledge, forthcoming). "Christ's body" had long been a standard Christian image for the involuntary poor, but Gregory seems to be among the first to express it so vividly in language "of the street." We find the same image again in Syriac texts. In the sixth century, John of Ephesus says of Euphemia's public appeals for aid: If someone resisted and would not give cheerfully, she made him regret the day with such words as these: "It's all very well for you to sit with your servants standing around attending you, bringing you successive courses of delicacies and wines and the best white bread, and very fine rugs, while God is overcome in the marketplace, swarming with lice and fainting with hunger. . . . " John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints 12, trans. Sebastian P. Brock and Susan Ashbrook Harvey, Holy Women of the Syrian Orient (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987), 130; my emphasis.

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self a kind and philanthropic member of Christ" (14.37). Finally- those who suffer the fate of the goats rejected by divine justice in Matthew 25 are those who "have not ministered to Christ through those in need" (14.39). While all three men speak to, and perhaps in, a liturgical context, it is Nazianzen whose central identity within the church is seen here by his placement of the poor at the very center of all that the church means to him: the identity of Christ. Basil locates it more often in community outside the church: the hearth, the marketplace, the public roads. Gregory of Nyssa's construct of the poor, discussed later, is also integrally related to the incarnation, but he builds his argument in terms more of philosophic cosmos than on ecclesiastical location and behavior. Nuances differentiate the three thinkers from one another in their construct of the poor body even as they overlap on many other points. Nyssen is also concerned with incarnation, and Nazianzen with divine spheres of the sacred; both are profoundly concerned with community. Gregory of Nazianzus's Oration 14 is almost a third longer than Nyssen's two orations on the poor, combined. In some manuscripts it is titled ne.pl 7tT,a>%OTpo<|>i,ci<;, "on the feeding of the poor." Despite its length, it is constructed as one single, unified hornily delivered on a feast day (14.30). Unlike his sermon In patrem tacentem (Or. 16), (discussed in chapter 5), Gregory here faces no mobbed threat. The context of feast and the implied physical comfort of the audience suggests a very different setting. Here the plague is not that of the cattle, but of leper, disowned and exiled. Here the people do not bring the crisis to the bishop, but rather the bishop brings it to the people, in forty chapters, a vivid appeal to biblical virtue and divine justice in ministering to the destitute. The text is a homiletic appeal to moral action, in which Gregory draws heavily on images of the patronage and gift exchange expected in civic leitourgia. Nazianzen's sermon became very popular and was widely translated. Jerome is perhaps the first explicit30 contemporary witness to it; in his list of Gregory's writings, he refers to it as "nepi §iKonm%i.a.c," and places it second after De morte fratris Caesarii}1 It is curious that Jerome preserves the Greek title, since he uses Latin to name Gregory's other works; this may suggest the rhetorical convenience of this relatively new, Greek phase in subsequent Christian discussion of philanthropy. Oration 14 was translated into Coptic early, into Armenian and Syriac by the fifth or sixth centuries, and into Georgian by the seventh.32 Nazianzen had a special place among

30. As opposed to the earliest secondary use of this homily, which is probably that of Nyssen. 31. Jer., Devir. ill. 117. 32. For a Coptic text and discussion, see Guy Lafontaine, "La version copte bohai'rique du discours 'sur 1'amour des pauvres' de Gregoire de Nazianze," Le Museon 93 (1980): 199-236; for the Coptic, Armenian, and Georgian traditions of Nazianzen's work, see Guy Lafontaine and Helene Metreveli, "Les versions copte, armenienne et georgiennes de Saint Gregoire le Theologien: Etat des recherches," in Symposium Nazianzenum; Studien zur Geschichte und Kultur des Altertums, vol. 2, ed. Justin Mossay (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schoningh, 1983), 63-73, an d Thamar Bregadze, "Repertoire des manuscrits de la version Georgienne des discours de Gregoire de Nazianze," in Versiones Orientales, Repertorium Ibericum et Studio ad Editiones Curandas, ed. Bernard Coulie, CCSG 20, Corpus Nazianzenum i (Turnhout: Brepols 1988), 19—126.

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Syriac-speaking Christians, and the translation of his works into Syriac constitutes what de Halleaux called "un monument litteraire imposant."33 It was probably known to Syriac readers by the sixth century34 and certainly by the eighth.35

Date, Text, and Context Taken together, the Gregories' three sermons "On the Love of the Poor" provide one of the most extensive Christian images of the disease of "leprosy" in the fourth century C.K., both its physiological manifestation and the spiritual metaphor. Although Gregory of Nyssa's first sermon describes destitute poverty in general, the total effect of all three sermons is to invite the audience, whether it be a reader or congregation, to come into physical contact with the suffering, sacred leper in order to effect spiritual healing for those who are physically well. The texts, and especially Nyssen's, do this by addressing the audience's common fear of contagion. As with the ancient Israelite leper, those who contracted "leprosy" in the Greek and Roman worlds of late antiquity also faced the threat of social exile, destitution, and lingering self-destruction. Yet, at least in these texts, contagion is not defined in terms of ritual purity and pollution. Leprosy was, above all, a social disease. Its manifestations were most notable for their power to exile the afflicted from that religious identity which Greekspeaking Christians also, by the fourth century, understood in civic terms; Greek and Roman religion was inseparable from civic life, and the homeless leper would be functionally unable to maintain ordinary household or civic ritual duties. Neither the medical nor the early Christian texts, however, view the leper in terms of ritual impurity, nor do the Greek and Roman medical texts on leprosy prescribe religious rites as part of curative effort. Graeco-Roman culture was satisfied to exile this threatening group to the fringes of social existence. Christian bishops, perhaps discomfited by this uncontained power of threat, sought instead to bring the poor and the lepers back under their active jurisdiction by reaching out and "containing" them within the rhetoric of Christian philanthropy. As with Basil's image of starvation, the Peri philoptochias sermons are considered as they relate not only to theological themes but also to the literal, medical image of the physical state they describe, particularly

33. Andre de Halleaux, "La version syriaque des Discours de Gregoire de Nazianze," in Mossay, ed., Symposium Nazianzenum, 77. 34. It is included in British Museum Acid. 17,144, a sixth-century collection of various writings of Basil and Nazianzen. 35. Syr. MS 151 in Harvard's Houghton library is a fragment containing the last chapter (40) of Or. 14. The Houghton text is a single vellum leaf with letters in black and red ink, probably from a lectionary. On one side is the beginning of the letters of Abgar and Jesus. On the other is the end of a text that was listed in Moshe H. Goshen-Gottstein, Syriac Manuscripts in the Harvard College Library: A Catalogue, Harvard Semitic Studies 23 (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1979), 100, as simply "a discourse, 'Love of Poverty' "; I am immensely grateful to Dr. J. F. Coakley, curator of Syriac manuscripts at Houghton, who generously provided me with a translation of this nearly illegible text, making it possible for me to identify it with certainty. Both Goshen-Gottstein and Coakley date the Estrangula of this leaf to the eighth century. The scrap was acquired in 1885 by Matthew Ward; he sent it from Baghdad with other MSS and Syriac fragments, commenting in his cover letter, also part of the Houghton collection, that "I got these scraps at Basebrin, near Midhgat, right in the Syrian region of Jebel Luv [Tur?]."

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that of "elephantiasis" in Oribasius36 and Aretaeus,37 who may provide the earliest clear clinical picture of modern "leprosy," that is, Hansen's disease.38 By considering theories of causation, contagion, and treatment in Greek and Roman medical writings, I suggest, one may better understand the images of contagion and healing present in the Gregories' sermons. The image of Christian healing in these texts, rooted in medical theory of its time, presents a very intentional image of "reverse contagion." The two Gregories, but especially Gregory of Nyssa, use the popular fear of contagion to suggest that the physically ill, exiled lepers possess a divine sanctity that may benefit the physically well only by direct contact. I suggest below that the effectiveness of this argument for reversal depends on a particular emerging Christian view of the human body, the Cappadocian understanding of the incarnation and the theology of mutability, particularly that of Gregory of Nyssa's Oratio catechetica magna. Any consideration of the Peri philoptochias sermons raises two particular questions. First, what is the nature of the evident relationship between Gregory of Nyssa and Gregory of Nazianzus's texts? Second, what, if any, relationship do they have with Basil's relief programs? How do they fit into the time line of Basil's construction of a ptochotropheion? Gregory of Nyssa probably wrote his two sermons on the poor with Nazianzen's Oration 14 in mind or even in hand. Yet the occasion and, therefore, the precise date of all three sermons is unknown. Nazianzen's Oration 14 is usually dated between 365 and 372, while Gregory of Nyssa probably wrote his two sermons on the poor between 372 and 382. The texts suggest only that Nazianzen preached during a festival and Nyssen during Lent. Scholars who try to relate Oration 14 to Basil's philanthropic action argue either that Gregory preached it prior to the famine, as early as 365, when Gregory was at home in Nazianzus functioning as a presbyter in his father's church,39 or after 372. Those who argue for the later date often suggest that Oration 14 was actually delivered in the context of the completion of Basil's hospice, possibly on the site itself.40

36. Oribas., Collection Medicate 45.27-29. I use the Greek text of U. C. Bussemaker and Charles Daremberg, Oeuvres d'Oribase Collection des medecins grecs et Latins. 6 vols (Paris: Imprimerie Imperiale, 1851-1862), 4.59-82. 37. Aret. 4.13 (description and discussion of cause) and 8.13 (treatment and cure). I use the Greek text of Carolus Hude, CMG 2 (Berlin, 1858) and the English translation by John Moffat, Aretaeus: Consisting of 8 Books, On the Causes, Symptoms and Cure of Acute and Chronic Diseases, Translated from the Original Greek (London: W. Richardson, 1786?), 273-88, 493-502. I thank Harvard's Houghton library for access to this text; yet another English translation is that of Francis Adams (1856). Most scholars date Aretaeus to the first or second century C.E., but he may be later since, as Steven Oberhelman argues, Philagrius's fourth- or early-fifth-century reference is the first clear testimony to his existence. For research on Aretaeus, see esp. Steven M. Oberhelman, "On the Chronology and Pneumatism of Aretaios of Cappadocia," ANRW 2.37.2 (1994): 941-66. 38. Mirko D. Grmek, Diseases in the Ancient Greek World, trans. Mireille Muellner and Leonard Muellner (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1989), 171. 39. Donald F. Winslow, "Gregory of Nazianzus and Love for the Poor," ATR 47 (1965): 348-59 and Rosemary Radford Ruether, Gregory of Nazianzus: Rhetor and Philosopher (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969), following P. Gallay, La vie de Saint Gregoire de Nazianze (Lyon: E. Vitte, 1943). 40. The Benedictine opinions in Migne cite the later date, as does Philip Haeuser in Gregor von Nazianz, Reden (Munich: Kbsel, 1983), 33-68.

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Bernard! argues that Oration 14 most logically fits at the beginning rather than the completion of the Basileias's construction. As Gallay justly noted, when one compares Oration 14 with Oration 43.63, it is remarkable that in Oration 14, "not only does Gregory say not a word of this hospice, but he categorically affirms that one sees the lepers in the street without shelter."41 Coulie has argued, in fact, that it seems unlikely that Nazianzen's homily functioned as part of a direct appeal for Basil's project, since it does not mention Basil or any project at all.42 Coulie agrees with Bernardi on a date around 368 for Oration 14, that is, after Basil conceived his idea for the Basileias but before the idea formed concretely enough to make an explicit appeal. The poor in this text are "spread out before our eyes;... we think only of the safety of our own bodies by flying from them. . . . We drive them away. . . . We give them no shelter, no food, no remedies. . . . Are these unfortunate people to remain out under the sky exposed? . . . To lie before our doors, weak and hungry? . . . This is the state of these poor people."43 Yet certainly this was not the state of these poor people once the Basileias was built, at least not in Caesarea. In fact, in Oration 43.63 Nazianzen praises Basil precisely for removing these images from the public eye: the public beggar is, thanks to Basil, "no longer before our eyes." This statement may reflect different eyes, either as a function of time or of place. Bringing these disparate views together, John McGuckin has recently suggested that Nazianzen's Oration 14 is probably (in substance) the discourse which was designed in 366 and 367 as the church's official money-raiser for the Caesarean Leprosarium . . . and, if so, was surely delivered in several places perhaps . . . even in the capital itself, to solicit imperial support [perhaps sent to Gregory's friend at Constantinople] Sophronius as a gift in return for his patronage of Nicobulos.44

Bernardi suggests that Basil and Nazianzen's concern for the plight of lepers began during the retreat at Annesi. This region where Basil and his friends and family began to practice the ascetic life might well have harbored lepers living in poverty. Basil spent periods of time at Annesi between 358 and 365. Construction of the Basileias began around 369 and was completed by 372. The crisis Gregory describes is not one he relates to famine. The poor in both men's texts are indeed foodshort, but only incidentally, as a consequence of their social exile and not any local crisis. Nor is Oration 14 concerned with epidemic disease, which is another wellknown consequence of famine and is mentioned (as a cattle plague) in Oration 16, in the early 3705. Leprosy is not a consequence of famine, although skin diseases caused by vitamin deficiencies of starvation might have been mistaken for leprosy in antiquity. Thus a prefamine date seems reasonable, although by no means certain. The date of Gregory of Nyssa's two Peri philoptochias sermons is equally tentative. Because he writes as if from the pulpit, they are usually dated after his ordina-

41. 42. 43. 44.

Gallay, La vie de saint Gregoire de Nazianze, 87, as quoted in Bernardi, La Predication, 104. Coulie, Les richesses, 171. GNaz, Or. 14.10—17, selections, my translation; PG 35.869-77. McGuckin, St. Gregory ofNazianzus: An Intellectual Biography.

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tion in late 371 or 372.45 Danielou argued that they were delivered in 382, since the opening reference to schoolmasters is also found in Nyssen's New Year's sermon of that year.46 Yet it seems to me that Gregory, a "schoolmaster" already in the early 3605, long before he was a priest, might have used this analogy at any time. Nyssen identifies the destitute beggars who were flocking into the city as "for the most part victims of war [di%|a.aA,c6vTO)v] but there is also no lack of strangers and exiles... in addition to these are other ptochoi, very ill and bedridden. Let everyone take care of his neighbors."47 Any attempt to date the sermons by the phrase "victims (or "prisoners") of war" depends on one's interpretation; it may relate to the Goths who had taken children in Asia Minor as hostages around 377;48 Nyssen mentions in 380 that they are still threatening the area around Pontus.49 The Basileias would certainly have been in place when Gregory of Nyssa wrote, but he, too, fails to mention it. If he preached the sermons in the city of Nyssa, he may possibly allude to it when he says, "Let no one say that some place far away from our life is perfectly sufficient, sending them off to some frontier, supplying them with food. For, a plan of this sort exhibits neither mercy nor sympathy, but is designed, in the guise of good-will, to banish these people utterly from our life."50 The phrase EOXOTia^ cwtoiKicGeiai most likely refers to a general exile rather than a specific hospice site, but it is possible Gregory is ironically referring to a tempting practice of bundling the local poor off to Basil's hospice, nearly one hundred miles away. That which Gregory of Nazianzus praises in Oration 43 — that because of Basil's institution the destitute are now out of sight —is precisely what Gregory of Nyssa condemns. In summary, then, it is possible that each Gregory preached his sermon (or its prototype) as the result of this shared awareness of Basil's social action, but the sermons themselves do not demonstrate a consciously interdependent dialogue. There is no real evidence in these sermons of either Basil, or his hospital, or his feeding programs, although certainly both Gregories were quite familiar with his public works. Although Gregory of Nazianzus tells us that Basil cared for lepers, Basil's own (extant) homilies and letters fail to mention them entirely. The sermons appeal to individual participation in assisting the poor precisely because without it, each Gregory implies, the destitute will starve and die. There is no conflict between Basil's aims and the Gregories' texts, but there is little or no evidence here for active conversation between the Gregories and Basil on the issue of poverty. Nonetheless, all three were certainly aware of one another's activities as they sought to speak into a

45. This date is likely only if one assumes he never preached in church during his years as a rhetor (3657-371) but took the pulpit for the very first time only after being ordained bishop of Nyssa, since the opening of the first oration places it quite securely within a "pulpit" setting rather than as a rhetorical lecture delivered outside of a church context. I do not know how sure one can be that Gregory was never liturgically permitted to deliver a sermon — for example under Basil at Caesarea or under Gregory, father or son, at Nazianzus — prior to his ordination. 46. J. Danielou, "La chronologic des Sermons de Gregoire de Nysse," RevSR 29 (1955): 360-61. 47. GNys, Paup. i; GNO 9.1: 96-97. 48. Bernardi, La predication, 276. 49. Ibid., 275, citing PG ^6.j^jA and 7488. 50. GNys, Paup. 2; GNO 9.1:119-20.

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shared context, and to effect a heightened Christian awareness of leitourgia in the form of philanthropic gifts to the poor. Further, there is a difference between the depth of focus with which each of the three men views and depicts the bodies of the poor. Basil's "macro" focus, on the working, socialized poor and on a civic response at an organizational level, differs significantly from the Gregories. What follows is an exploration of the Gregories' more specific focus on two particular issues: first, their language of "rights" and human entitlement, which is formative in their argument, and, second, their specific construct of the outcast leper. These discussions, both characterized by a disordered and disintegrating body, use many of the same images we find in Basil, but in their own way, they construct a new Christian meaning for the poor.

Poverty and Entitlement in Christian Cappadocia Much of the language the Cappadocians use to appropriate the poor into the citizenship and gift-dependency dynamics of Christian city and liturgy might be viewed, if somewhat cautiously, in the context of entitlement or "human rights" language in these sermons. While the modern understanding of "human rights" is anachronistic to Roman antiquity,51 both Basil and the Gregories' sermons contain distinct argument and rationale for granting traditional civic entitlements to hitherto disenfranchised outcasts. This language is most evident in the Gregories' Peri philoptochias sermons, and a brief discussion is in order here. When the Cappadocians are considered in relation to the history of religious dialogue about human rights relevant to the poor and sick,52 usually only Basil's purported relief activities are cited. The ideological argument found in the Gregories' texts deserves more attention. These sermons construct the poor as a group entitled to aid and respect by virtue of their participation in the same two relationships we find in Basil's texts: first, their relationship to humanity as kin, and second, their relationship to the divine. Kinship Language The poor are brought into social consciousness by a deliberate construction of fictive kinship. Both Gregories repeatedly refer to the poor as "brethren" — adelphoi — although Gregory of Nyssa clearly does not mean this in a literal or biological sense, since he also identifies them as "victims of war, strangers, exiles" and "others," notably the ptochoi, lepers and sick who are stretched out on the road, evoking for the viewer the story of the Good Samaritan.53 Gregory of Nazianzus suggests that many lepers were indeed literal kin to those from whom they beg (Or. 14.10), but he particularly emphasizes their common humanity: "Since we are human beings let us first give the offerings of our compassion to [fellow] humanity" (Or. 14.16). He iden-

51. I address this elsewhere; see "The Entitled Poor: Human Rights Language in the Cappadocians," Pro Ecclesia, 9(2000): 476-89. 52. E.g., Miller, Birth of the Byzantine Hospital and Martin-Doisy, Histoire de la Charite, passim. 53. GNys, Paup. i; GNO 9.1:96; PC 46.457 and 2; GNO 9.1:114; PG 46.473.

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tifies the poor as widows, orphans, exiles, strangers, slaves of cruel masters, and victims of harsh judges, greedy tax officials, shipwreck and robbery. They are, he asserts in 14.23, "our kindred" (0uyYevf|<;), "your brother," who "is your own member, [oov ecm (j.eA,o^] though this calamity has deformed him" (Or. 14.27). Kindness and mercy granted to dumb beasts is no less due to our "equals and our kindred" (TOI<; ouo^iiXoK; KCU. OHOTIUOK;; Or. 14.28), literally those of "equal rank with us and of the same race." Gregory's use here of b^otyvkoc,, "same race," is provocative. He does not define what "race" he has in mind, and the word is not commonly enough used in patristic writings to have a clear meaning here: does he mean Christian, Greek, Roman, or Cappadocian? The term may suggest that some homogeneity in fact did exist in the destitute population, and that it did not include, for example, "barbarians" or those of a visibly different "race." Nonetheless, Gregory's use of the term here is part of an argument for a broad inclusion, not for any specific exclusion of certain mendicants. Nyssen uses the same term, 6u,6<j>i>A,o<;, to make exactly the same point (see discussion later). Throughout his second poverty sermon, Gregory of Nyssa also uses many of the same terms of common kinship to place the power of the poor within the framework of cosmic harmony; for instance: Do not tear apart the unity of the Spirit, that is to say, do not consider as strangers those beings who partake of our nature. 54 . . . [These poor are ] human beings, dragging themselves along the road, half dead yet supremely human; 55 . . . You see a man and in him you have no respect for a brother? . . . In condemning the sickness you condemn yourself and all nature. For you yourself belong to the common nature of all. Treat all therefore as one common reality.56

These are only a few examples of many other instances of kinship language that runs throughout the sermons. The poor are consistently perceived as kin on the basis of their humanity, as fellow creatures, and not by any "racial" (in the modern sense) or religious identities. Participants in the Divine Image and City In addition to their identity as kin, the needy are constructed as heavenly citizens and entitled to civic justice by virtue of their identity as bearers of the divine image. Consequently they are entitled to patronage — in modern language they have "rights" — ultimately by virtue of their relationship to God the creator, who has given them both their human nature and membership in the civic community known as the kingdom of heaven. These are "rights" explicitly dependent on these relational affiliations. This citizenship depends, further, on a special identification of the poor with Christ, and emphasizing the incarnate nature of deity in Christ. The metaphor of

54. Ibid., 2; GNO 9.1:114; PG 46.473. 55. Ibid.; GNO 9.1:117; PG 46.480. 56. Ibid.; GNO 9.1:115; PG 46.476.

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Matthew 25, in which ministering to the poor is ministering to Christ, is a dominant theme throughout all three Cappadocians' writings on poverty relief.57 Gregory of Nazianzus especially emphasizes this image at the end of his sermon. To see the poor "as Christ" may, to the modern consciousness, seem to make them into a passive image, a symbol that erases individuality and looks past the needy to the "more worthy" Christ for whom they are signifiers. The Cappadocians, however, do not constrain their image to this passive model. Nazianzen emphasizes the poor person's active participation in the divine and liturgical image. He describes them as [o]ur brothers in God . . . born with the same nature . .. compounded of nerves and bones as we are; more than this, they also have received the same divine image as we have, and have perhaps guarded it better. . . . They have put on the same Christ. . . [and] have been made sharers with us of the same . . . doctrine, the same Testaments, the same Assemblies, the same mysteries, the same hope, Christ.58

Gregory of Nazianzus is not here implying that only orthodox church members deserve assistance. In fact, both Nazianzen and Nyssen emphasized the universal nature of God's goodness to all creation. It is precisely in these references to divine identity where we find the language of "human rights" in the Gregories: terms referring explicitly to equality, rights and freedom. Nazianzen exhorts his audience to "resolve to imitate the justice [iooTn?] of God" (Or. 14.24), whose gifts are "equally upon all, the just and unjust alike, upholding the dignity of our nature by the worthiness of his gifts" (Or. 14.25). Both authors link this justice with a return to Eden. Nazianzen in fact uses ioovouicc, a Greek political term meaning "equality of rights:" "At the fall came hatred and strife and the deceits of the serpent... I would have you look back to our primary equality of rights [TT)V Tcpcoiriv ioovojuav] not to the later division . . . Reverence the ancient freedom [tnv dp%odav e^evOeplav TIUTICOV]. Reverence yourself. Cover the shame [dtijiia] of your own kindred."59 While tcvouia does not occur in Gregory of Nyssa's two homilies, Nyssen understands the divine nature in the poor as that which entitles them to respect and value, emphasizing that the poor have indeed taken on the very prosopon of Christ himself: "Don't despise these prostrate ones as if they merit no respect. Ask who they are and discover their worth. They have put on the face [TO npocomov] of our saviour. The Lord has given them his own prosopon [that they might be] the stewards of our hope, the guardians of royalty [oi Supropoi Tfjq paoiXetcK;]."60 He also reminds his audience to "[rjemember who they are . . . human beings [dvSpcorcrov avQpemoi] in no way different from the common nature" (KOWT)V <|>\)aiv).61 Nyssen also seeks a restoration to Eden: "Mercy and good deeds," he says, "are

57. As well as John Chrysostom's work, which has been better studied in this regard. See, e.g., Rudolf Brandle, Matt. 25,31-46 im Werk des Johannes Chrysostomos, Beitrage zur Geschichte der biblischen Exegese (Tubingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1979). 58. GNaz, Or. 14.14; trans. Toa], Sunday Sermons, 4.49-50. 59. Ibid., 14.26; trans. Toal, Sunday Sermons, 4.56. 60. GNys, Paup. i; GNO 9.1:98-9; PC 46.460. 61. Ibid., 2; GNO 9.1:119-20; PG 46.480-81.

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works God loves; they divinize [0e6fi>] those who practice them and stamp them into the likeness of goodness that they may become the image of the primordial Being" (elKcav ir\q 7ip(OTn,<;).62 Because the poor are spiritual kin, Nyssen says, "It is just that brothers will reap an equal part of the inheritance."53 Thus, by their essential relationship with human and divine, the poor are here constructed as having "equal rights" to justice, compassion, and all aspects of the heavenly inheritance. By helping the poor, the donors also attain citizenship in the heavenly kingdom; at the end of his first sermon, Nyssen praises the author of Psalm 90, who seeks an appreciation of his own mortality and dies "as an intact and flawless citizen of the world to come. May we all attain the same by the philanthropia of our Lord Jesus Christ. . . . "64 Thus the Cappadocians here "entitle" the poor, constructing for them a social identity using language evocative of "rights." Yet these are ever dependent rights. The power of the poor depends on their place of primary honor in the kingdom of God. It depends on their revisionist identity (in these texts) as kin. The rights of these poor depend on their constructed religious role: as patrons, engaging in civic gift exchanges by receiving alms and effecting redemption (discussed in the next section). It depends on their assigned position as legal witnesses before God for justice. These rights ultimately depend on the way the authors understand the poor to image the divine. They are not, here, in any sense "existential" rights, but deliberately depend on a particular religious perspective within a particular culture. Redemptive Alms: The Heavenly Economy of Gift Exchange It is precisely because relief and help to the these texts. Claiming exhort their audience earth. Nyssen says:

the poor are kin, and because they possess divine identity, that poor possesses redemptive power for the donor, according to scriptural Christian and Jewish traditions, the Cappadocians to purchase heaven by a gift exchange with the poor here on

Don't retain everything for yourself but share with the poor, who is God's favorite.65 . . . If we want to be received by them in the eternal places, let us receive them now.66. . . Don't let another rob you of the treasure you are depositing. Embrace the wretched as gold.67. . . The gift will not result in loss. . . . Sow your benefactions and your house will be filled with a plentiful harvest.68

Nazianzen is just as explicit: "Let us through almsgiving become owners of our own souls; let us give of what is ours to the poor that we may be rich in heaven. . . . You will never outdo God's generosity . . . for to be given to God, this is also to receive

62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68.

Ibid., i; GNO 9,1:103; PG 46.464-65. Ibid.; GNO 9.1:103; PG 46.465. Ibid.; GNO 9.1:108; PG 46.469. Ibid.; GNO 9.1:103; PG 46.465. Ibid., 2; GNO 9.1:123; PG 46.485. Ibid., i; GNO 9.1:97; PG 46.457. Ibid., i; GNO 9.1:98; PG 46.460; echoed in 2; GNO 9.1:122; PG 46:484.

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him."69 Here again the destitute recipient seems little more than an object, albeit divinizing, an exchange currency by which the patron seeks to identify himself with God in order to gain earth and heaven, too. Although this new identity, for the poor, as an agent in the gift exchange with heaven hardly reforms the systemic problems of society, through it the poor may assume a certain active "entitlement": power over the gates of heaven. As the "favorites of God," the poor are natural citizens of heaven and may act as legal witnesses before the eternal Judge to prosecute the rich for their greed and injustice. Or so the Cappadocians construct them. The audience is told not only to serve God in the poor, but also to serve the poor by imitating God. Gregory of Nazianzus advocates, "Be as God to the unfortunate, by imitating the mercy of God" (14.26), "who gives you . . . land, laws, our manner of life (politeia), and the company of your kin" (14.23). God's generosity is described in explicitly fiscal terms: "Give to him, 'showing mercy all the day and lending all the day long,' carefully seeking back both principal and interest; that is, increase (of God) in him you helped (14.27). . . . And what else does the scripture say? 'He that has mercy on the poor lends to the Lord.' Who would not have such a debtor, who in due time will repay both loan and interest?" (14.36) This emphasis on giving and receiving, on imitating God and serving God, is also seen in the Gregories' appeal to other scriptural models, such as Moses. In Oration 14.1, Nazianzen wishes his audience to give as generously as Moses gave, "raining food from heaven and bestowing on man the bread of angels." Nyssen similarly appeals to Moses, but as a recipient of gifts: "You will say, 'I am poor —me too!' So it is! Nevertheless, give. . . . Moses did not receive the offerings for the Tabernacle from a single benefactor (leitourgos) but all the people gave him contributions."70 The redemptive nature of relief is thus rooted in the constructed identity of the poor as kin and as divine image. Their entitlement to "equal rights," "freedom," material and human dignity, is an intrinsic consequence of their right to locate themselves both in the civic sphere and at the altar. In conclusion, the dynamics of entitlement language in these texts does not imply a new social empowering of the poor. The donors were, as these texts ever remind us, patrons who gave to clients who remained clients; bishops who gave food, clothing, and medicine to wandering mendicants but did not (usually) ordain them; the voluntarily poor ascetics who gave alms and shelter to those who nonetheless remained poor and needy by involuntary circumstance and choice, unless they were able to flee complications such as family obligations and debt to join the voluntary poor. Yet even within these constraints, this distribution of relief to the needy in a patronage-based culture, as also today in the "rights-based" culture of the West, often acts as a gauge by which one may perceive the relative value of the individual body in that society. The religious value of the body is also a social value, in that it denotes the meaning of the body for a religious "society," the civic value of the person within the tradition's understanding of the "kingdom of God." Through the Cappadocian construct of this dynamic relationship, the involuntary poor enter into the religious

69. GNaz, Or. 14.22, trans. Toal, Sunday Sermons, 4.54. 70. GNys, Paup. i; GNO 9.1: 98; PG 46.460.

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and public liturgies from which they had been traditionally excluded. In exploring the way these texts use language, one begins to see how a particular cultural model influenced formative religious expression. Leprosy and Healing in Late Antiquity The Language of Leprosies Leprosy was a term in the ancient world which might refer to any number of skin diseases that impelled the patient to leave home, family, and occupation and live in exile at or beyond the borders of town or community. The medical texts used several different terms for leprosy. Mirko Grmek traces these from the ancient Vedic term kildsa71 through the Hebrew to Greek and Latin texts.72 That which might be called leprosy was variously termed Kenpa (the word Josephus used to translate the Hebrew zara'at),7^ or A.et)Kr|,74 or "scabies" (Greek \|«npa Lat. vitiligo), or "the Phoenician disease," which Galen wrote, "seems to be elephantiasis."75 While Grmek would like to differentiate between the various diseases classified under this broad label, the textual focus on often vague symptoms and treatment makes precise differentiation impossible. Insofar as the ancients understood all these diseases to arise from an imbalance of choleric humors, particularly black bile, they treated them with the same therapies, discussed below. The medical writers also used several different terms for what they themselves viewed as the same disease in its different states. Rufus comments that elephantiasis may also be called ocm)piaat<; or A,eovctaai<;, depending on whether the dominant symptom was chronic phallic erection with red cheeks, or a bad body odor with ridging forehead.76 Aretaeus ofCappadocia Aretaeus's lengthy description of elephantiasis vividly illustrates that which both Cappadocian bishops and ancient physicians understood as leprosy. Thought to have been a Cappadocian who studied medicine at Alexandria and lived in Rome, Aretaeus's date and life "are as little known and as much disputed as those of Hippocrates."77 He cannot be dated by his citations since he quotes only Hippocrates

71. Grmek, Diseases in the Ancient World, 157. One wonders whether this Vedic term is etymologically related to the Syriac kharsd, since an anonymous Syriac medical compendium from late antiquity refers several times to "the leprosy that is called kharsd," which Budge translates "scabies"; Ernest A. Wallis Budge, The Syriac Book of Medicines (London: Oxford University Press, Amsterdam: 1913; rept. Philo Press, 1976), 2.694. 72. Grmek, Diseases in the Ancient Greek World, 152-209. 73. Joseph., Contra Apionem 1.31 (esp. sections 281-82). 74. Herod. 1.38. 75. Gal., Prorrheticum 2.43; for Galen's comment, see Littre IX, 7411.7; for discussion, see Grmek, Diseases in the Ancient World, 165-67. 76. In Oribas., Collect. Med. 45.28.2. Aretaeus identifies these same subcategories of the disease in Aret. 4.13.8. 77. Oberhelman, "On the Chronology and Pneumatism of Aretaios," 941.

154 The Hungry Are Dying and Homer. The value of his work depends on whether he was the model for, or plagiarist of Archigenes (ft. 100 C.E.). The earliest unattested external testimony to Aretaeus is that of Philagrius in the fourth or fifth century c.E.?8 The De simplicibus medicamentis mentions him, but its attribution to Dioscorides Anazarbeus (70-75 C.E.), and therefore its date, is also not secure.79 Steven Oberhelman therefore tentatively places Aretaeus in the first rather than the second century C.E., but only because he is "not an Eclectic but a complete Pneumatist." Yet his era and influence remain speculative, and this obscurity itself may suggest that "he never left his homeland of Cappadocia (if that in fact is his country)."80 While there is no suggestion that Aretaeus was a Christian, he may have known of early Christian ascetic practices. In his description of melancholy, he refers to those who "hating society, fly into the desert and become superstitiously religious."81 If this does refer to Christians, and if it is part of Aretaeus's original text,82 it might suggest he was writing as late as the second or third centuries, when Christians began to be regarded in this way. Whenever he lived, however, Aretaeus certainly preceded the Gregories, and his description of elephantiasis contains many observations that are identical to those in the Peri philoptochias sermons. Gregory of Nazianzus may have known Aretaeus's text through his brother Caesareus's medical library, as noted earlier.83 Aretaeus's description of elephantiasis is also very similar to that of Oribasius, physician to the emperor Julian and one of Caesareus's contemporaries at Constantinople. While Aretaeus's lengthy description of leprosy may not be original with him, it is the earliest image we have, and it encapsulates well the standard physical and social images of the disease in late antiquity. Aretaeus regards elephantiasis as a disease in which [a]ll hope vanishes. . . . [T]he colour is livid or black, the lower part of the forehead is greatly contracted so as to cover the eyes, as in ... lions when enraged, hence the malady has obtained the name leonteion.. . . The prominence of the lips is thick . . . [T]he ears have . . . the appearance of ... an elephant. . . . The tumours of the cheeks, chin, fingers and knees are ulcerated, and the ulcers are not only attended with a bad smell but become incurable. . . . The members are lifeless and dead before the patient; the nose, fingers, feet, with the genitals and hands fall off. .. . [Everything is detestable on account of the pain, the body is deprived of nourishment, and there is present ravenous desires. . . . [Tjhey are oppressed with an unusual weight in every limb. . .. [T]he disease produces disgust and alienation from everything. . . . Who would not fly or turn his back upon either a son, father or

78. Philagrius, Frag. ap. Aetium 8.47; 11.1. 79. Oberhelman, "On the Chronology and Pneumatism of Aretaios," 946—50. 80. Ibid., 959. 81. Aret 3.5, trans. Moffat, 116. 82. No one else has to my knowledge related this reference to early Christianity, but it hardly fits Greek or Roman religious practices. If the text truly predates Christian ascetic practices, might it refer to an Alexandrian familiarity with Josephns' or Philo's description of the Essenes? 83. Introduction 11.124. See also Danielou, Le zv'*™ siecle: Gregoire de Nysse et son milieu, 37-38. Although Caesareus was a medical doctor, he also authored at least one theological text, if Photius (Bibl. 210) is correct in attributing to Caesareus a book of two hundred ecclesiastical questions and answers.

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brother labouring under this cruel misfortune, especially as there is a danger of the disease being communicated?'84 Hence many have exposed their nearest and dearest relation in deserts and upon mountains, some supplying their wants for a time, others withholding the necessaries of life and wishing them to die as soon as possible.85

Aretaeus's image of the macabre identifies a fear of contagion as the reason families disowned leprous relatives and friends to subsist in desolation and destitution while the disease (or the environment) progressively destroyed various body parts. These exiles survived by forming alternative communities, which were completely dependent on the charity of the communities that had exiled them. As Michael De Vinne observed (discussed earlier, in the introduction), both Gregory of Nyssa and Gregory of Nazianzus describe lepers' begging in terms of theater: they sing ballads, narrating the true tragedy of their own lives; and they perform in troupes to intentionally augment their gruesome deformities as part of their appeal for alms. Disease Etiology and Medical Theories of Causation Leprosy was understood as something causally related to a disordered reality. This disordered reality was explained in terms of cosmic, environmental, and physiological humors, although details were often vague. Gregory of Nyssa mentions a prevailing theory that putrid humors, existing in the air or water, might invade the blood, "causing" disease. Yet the standard texts reflect little concern for exploring the theories concerning these causes and limit discussion to the causal relationship within the body itself between humoral imbalance and physical symptom. Even this reference to the body being invaded by putrid humors attributes cause to the environment; there is no consideration of interpersonal transmission. "Contagion" is therefore a very curious category within this context; what does the word mean to those who use it in these texts? How did this standard view of leprosy as "contagious" relate to the little that is known about causation theory in ancient medicine? Aristotelian causal theory86 may have had some small role in the education of the Graeco-Roman physician, if he also received training in philosophy and rhetoric. However, only one of Galen's three "systems" of medical practice routinely con-

84. 5eo<; Kcd a\i§i neca56aio<; toij KOKcm; my emphasis. 85. Aret. 4.13.10,15-19, selections, trans. Moffat, 280-87. 86. For an overview of causation theory, see most recently R. J. Hankinson, Cause and Explanation in Ancient Greek Thought (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999); see also Michael Frede, "The Original Notion of Cause," in Doubt and Dogmatism: Studies in Hellenistic Epistemology, ed. Malcolm SchofieM, Myles Burnyeat, and Jonathan Barnes (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980), 217-49; R - J - Hankinson, "Galen's Theory of Causation," ANRW 2.37.2 (i994):i757-74; and Richard Sorabji, "Causation, Laws and Necessity" in Doubt and Dogmatism, 250-82. Causes were not necessarily related in ancient texts to activities. For Aristotle an idea might be a cause. This had changed somewhat by the early Christian period, in that the role of an active agent became more dominant in causation theory. Cause is active, for example, in Clement of Alexandria (Strom. 1.17.82.3 and 8.9.25.5) and the Neoplatonists continued to regard it as active. In terms of disease etiology, however, this would merely imply that humors and environmental imbalance might be seen as active agents. The transmission of undesirable properties from one person to another were understood largely in terms of religious purity and pollution, not ordinary pathology.

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sidered causal theory at all.87 According to Galen, his own approach, that of the "Dogmatists," (or "Rationalists"), treated the patient according to theories about the inner workings and constitution of the body beyond what was immediately visible. In contrast, the "Empiricists" made their diagnoses solely by observing measurable, physical symptoms, with no interest in theory. Galen's third group, the "Methodists," focused purely on method, assuming illness arose out of a supposed imbalance between constriction and relaxation. Galen observed that diseases only affected some, not all, individuals in a given (presumably disordered) environment. He explained this selective process by identifying two operative factors that determine whether or not a person will become ill. The first factor was the "antecedent cause," a pre-existing environmental or internal trigger that provokes the condition that ultimately causes illness. He believed that everyone in a given environment was equally subject to this antecedent cause. Whether one became ill, however, depended on the second factor: the "standing conditions of the body that render it liable to being so affected."88 Cause could act only on particular materials and "the type of material, and its resistive power, determine the extent to which the external cause will produce a perceptible effect."89 In other words, the essential composition of the body predisposes one to either catch or to resist certain diseases. However one interprets Galen's categories, these divisions had little significance two hundred years later. By that time medical practice was a more eclectic development based on all the traditional sources available, often collected into massive compendia like those of Oribasius or Paulus Aegineta. This view of antecedent susceptibility and resistive power also plays a role in the way the Cappadocian bishops discuss leprosy. However, neither "antecedent causes" nor "standing conditions" explain the interpersonal contagion that is understood by all as a critical risk in the physical disease of leprosy. Fighting Black with Black: Homeopathy as an Agent of Healing While ancient medical theory does not explain its understanding of interpersonal contagion, it does provide detailed insights into the dynamics of treatment. The dominant image of causal theory related to the inner workings of the body. Thus both the Cappadocians and the medical writers described cause in terms of humors, if they discussed it at all. They viewed health as the ultimate balance between moisture and dryness, heat and cold, earth, air, fire, and the four humors: blood, phlegm, yellow bile, and black bile.90 The humoral approach to medical therapy applied what would now be considered homeopathic remedies: treatments that generally resemble the disease they seek to cure, a sort of negation by inoculation. This treatment of like with like was sometimes combined with cathartic therapies (such as bleeding, or milk-based pur-

87. Gal, De Sectis; for text see J. Marquardt, I. Miiller, and G. Helmreich, eds., Claudii Galeni Pergameni scripta minora (1893; rept. Leipzig: Teubner, 1967), 3.12-32. For discussion see Hankinson, "Galen's Theory of Causation," 1759-60. 88. Hankinson, "Galen's theory of causation," 1762. 89. Ibid., 1763. 90. For a brief summary of humoral theory, see Guido Majno, The Healing Hand: Man and Wound in the Ancient World (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1975), 176-83.

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gatives) intended to release or counter excessive humoral substances. These are the therapies one finds in the treatment of leprosy. Leprosy was believed to arise out of an imbalance in either "melancholic" or "choleric" humors caused by an excessive internal production of black bile.91 Oribasius follows Galen in attributing elephantiasis to black bile and choleric humors (|o,eyaY)Co^KOi- Collection Medicals, 45.27.1), and believing that lepra belonged to the same family of diseases, requiring the same treatment (ibid., 45.27.12). This humoral theory of effect was not limited to the Latin and Greek-speaking world. In a Syriac medical commentary on Hippocrates, the author describes how "the thick chymes which are gathered together and increase," causing disease: "The bile wanders about in all the skin, even in the disease called elephantiasis. . . . Now this takes place in two ways: either because the chyme of the black bile is injected into it from another region, or because it is produced in that place itself."92 Medical antidotes in these texts were often listed in groups according to the diseased humors. The Syriac text, for example, groups together those medications one ought to use in "elephantiasis and leprosy and scabies and tumours, and running sores, and pig-sores, and cancers, and all the sicknesses which are begotten of black bile or crude phlegm which is not distributed."93 If one antidote does not work, the text suggests a wide range of possible alternatives, perhaps chosen according to the patient's economic resources and the availability of more esoteric ingredients. Treatment was both external and internal, and the same substance could be used for both. Viper meat was a popular prescription to treat leprosy. Galen, Aretaeus, Oribasius, and Paulus of Aegina all recommend viper, either in stew, as broth, or rubbed on the skin. The homeopathy of the viper is transmembranous: the leper who eats viper meat may be enabled to similarly shed his skin and be healed. Aretaeus 4.13.19-21 tells the story of one such (supposed) transformation. Philumenus, a second-century Alexandrian whom Oribasius cites, refers to the curative powers of both viper and elephant: "[Ajmong men who live in solitude there are some who eat [vipers] without themselves even being sick. . . . Some say that ivory scrapings also are effective against elephantiasis . . . " (Collect. Med., 45.29.26). Philumenus also believed in treating bad odors and repulsion the same way, and rough or shiny hard, dark skin lesions with that which resembled them in the animal kingdom; among his medicinal instructions for treating elephantiasis one finds, "grind up five or six of the bugs called millipedes which one finds under barrels, in 3 cyaths of sweet water, and give it to the sick . . ." (Collect. Med., 45.29.29).

91. Paulus of Aegina retains this teaching found in Galen and Oribasius, in his sixth century C.E. description of elephantiasis: "It arises either from the melancholic and feculent part, and, as it were, dregs of the blood, or from yellow bile, both being overheated. . . . [BJlack bile produces reddish elephantiasis, which is the less malignant variety. . . . [Ujlceration of the whole body and falling off of the extremities are produced . . . from yellow bile overheated. . . . [TJhose already overpowered by the disease must be abandoned" (Paulus Aegineta 4.1, trans. Francis Adams, The Seven Books of Paulus Aegineta (London: Sydenham Society, 1844), 2.1. In 4.2 Paulus similarly identifies leprosy as a melancholic disorder rooted in excessive black bile. 92. The Syriac Book of Medicines, fol. 8a-gb, trans. Budge, 2.14-15. 93. Ibid., fol. 2}b, 2.47.

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Despite the traditional image of the leper as an "untouchable," these remedies suggest a certain degree of permitted social interaction, at least until the patient was considered doomed. For example, Philumenus warns those with elephantiasis against sexual activity, claiming it worsens the symptoms and progression of the disease; as proof he argues that women and eunuchs rarely suffered from leprosy.94 Yet many therapies imply some degree of intimate physical contact: bleeding the patient, preparing and administering purgatives, and rubbing ointments into the affected skin. Both Aretaeus and Philumenus recommend an active regimen of long walks, declamation, and bathing, especially in sea or sulfurous waters. These prescriptions assume an ordered social existence, the economic freedom to travel, and liberty to bathe in waters that other, healthy, individuals may share. In summary, these texts suggest that the ancient physicians (in contrast to the philosophers) had little practical concern for the question of ultimate particulate or external causes of disease. Although leprosy is viewed as "contagious," its causation is discussed chiefly in terms of internal imbalance. The medical advice concerns either treating the symptoms or separating from society the patient whose disease is pronounced incurable. External factors, when they are suggested, are usually treated as forces beyond human control. Leprosy was a disease of fate, the consequence of a body susceptible to seasonal imbalance,95 perhaps because of an astrological predeliction.96 In the face of this fatalistic view of external cause, it is surprising to find leprosy identified in medical terms as "contagious" at all. Contagion and Christian Healing Metaphor and the Body in Pagan and Christian Cappadocia Nonetheless, the fear of contagion is a significant subtext, in very similar terms, in both Aretaeus's discourse on leprosy and in the Gregories' Peri philoptochias sermons. In 4.13.19, Aretaeus defends social exile precisely because "there is a danger of the disease being communicated [the verb is Jj,eta8i8a)u,t]" and further warns, "It is equally dreadful either to live or take food with the patients, as in the case of plague, because the infection is very easily communicated [again using u,eTa8t5coux] through the air."97 Gregory of Nyssa was familiar with this theory of airborne disease but disagreed with it. He argued, to the contrary, that leprosy was not contagious. There were some in his audience who, he suggests, were avoiding lepers by saying, "[Tjhese days it is important to avoid the risk of contagion [iieraSociii;]."98 Gregory directly challenges this contingent, arguing:

94. Oribas., Collect. Med. 45.29.79. T'he argument was that sex will make one's symptoms worse, not that one would transmit the disease to another person, although this fear was perhaps present as well. 95. Stephanos of Athens says that all diseases originate in the seasons insofar as these affect body moisture and other properties. Stephani Atheniensis, In Hippocratis Aphorismos Commentaria 5.22, trans. Leendert G. Westerink, CMG XI 1,3,1 (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1985), 130-31. 96. The Syriac compendium, which Budge dates to the same period as Stephanus's commentary, reflects a popular belief that lepers were fated by certain astrological predelictions: a man is likely to develop "lepra on his head" if he is born in the beginning of Nisan, any time during Tammuz, or in the middle or the end of the month of Shebat (The Syriac Book of Medicines, fol. 243^ trans. Budge, 2.618-19). 97. Aret., 4.13.19, trans. Moffat, 493. 98. GNys, Paup. 2; GNO 9.1:124.

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These words are made-up excuses. . . . And they are not true. Certain illnesses, such as the plagues do have an external cause [e^toGev cation;] and can be traced to pestilence [eK5ictS6opa<;] in the air or water, with suspected transmission from the afflicted to those who approach [them]. (Personally 1 do not believe it can possibly be passed on from the afflicted to those who are healthy, but that common factors contribute and bring on the illness similarly in everyone) — [but you say] that the sickness is to blame as it goes out from those who have been affected and into the rest. But it is only in the interior that the illness develops, invading the blood by putrid humors which infect it and the infection does not leave the sick person."

This discourse suggests that the concept of contagion was based on a medical understanding of disease in which issues of ritual purity, if discussed at all, would be inseparable from the material nature of body, soul, and society. For many early Christians, ritual purity and health connoted orthodoxy, while pollution and disease were related to heresy. Gregory of Nyssa refers to eye infections when he writes about the Arian beliefs: "If I were to relate all these things, would I not be like those who contract eye disease from frequent contact with those already infected, and myself also seem to be afflicted with the disease of passion for the unimportant. . . ?"1()0 Contagion was a common metaphor in arguments over so- called heresies, but these allusions do show that Gregory of Nyssa also understood literal contagion as something his audience linked to at least three specific physical diseases: eye diseases, plague, and leprosy. Nyssen's concern with causation, as it relates to both human transmission and the Christian's power over cosmic forces (discussed further later) reflects the dominant concerns of the philosopher rather than the typical voice of the physicians of his day. Gregory of Nazianzus argues against contagion in a manner very similar to that of Gregory of Nyssa, although Nazianzen is not quite so optimistic on the question of contagion: Come close to them; you will not be harmed, you will not contract [here the verb is netdXaupdtvo)] their affliction; even though the timid believe this, misled by foolish talk. [Look at] physicians, and the example of those who take care of these sick, of whom not one has fallen into danger through visiting them. But even should this action be not without danger [KivSweueo], or the well-founded suspicion o f i t , . . .rise above the love of the flesh [(JnAoaapida]. Do not despise your brother. . . [fleeing] as from something terrible, something fearful, to be shunned and disowned. He is your own member [aov eati |ieXo<;], though this calamity has deformed him. 101

Gregory's caution (noted here in italics) suggests that he may have believed the disease might be contagious. Nonetheless, he appeals to the same images in order to argue that it is probably not, and that it does not matter, even if it is. Like Nyssen, Nazianzen exhorts his audience to enter into physical contact with the sick to fulfill the moral mandate for a philanthropia that, in turn, may open one up to receive spiritual healing.

99. Ibid. The parentheses are part of the Greek text. 100. GNys, Eun. 1.4.28, trans. Stuart G. Hall in El "Contra Eunomium I" en la production literaria de Gregorio de Nisa, VI Coloquio International sobre Gregorio de Nisa, ed. Lucas F. Mateo-Seco and Juan L. Bastero (Pamplona: Ediciones Universidad de Navarra, S.A., 1988), 39. See also Basil, Horn, in Ps. i (PC 29.2256). 101. GNaz, Or. 14.27, trans. Toal, Sunday Sermons, 4.57; my emphasis.

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Thus the symbolic image of contagion is here consistently rooted in a medical perception of the physical body. Greek and Roman "pagans" alienated incurable "lepers" with the same vehemence found in the Torah, but the Greeks discuss this alienation in terms of civic identity rather than ritual purity. There are hints that the Greeks occasionally interpreted leprosy-like symptoms as divine punishment, 102 but this is often true of sickness in general. There is no evidence that lepers were universally banned from all Greek temple precincts, and they may even have sought out Greek temples in their search for healing. After all, both Greek and Roman concepts of the polls understood civic life as inextricably dependent on divine favor, purity, and ritual balance. Disease was usually treated with ritual therapeutics in addition to whatever medical care the patient could afford, and medical care was commonly understood in sacred terms. Thus, although "contagion" is a medical metaphor that easily lent itself to religious meaning, these Greek medical writers and Christian bishops regarded individual lepers as victims of physical and social misfortune, never (in these texts) as objects of divine disfavor. Nor are they regarded here as ritually impure. While the lepers in these texts are therefore not "impure," the image of leprosy is commonly used as an allegorical synonym for impurity. Methodius works from this image in his dialogue Sistelius: On Leprosy.10? Despite the literal nature of Gregory of Nyssa's and Gregory of Nazianzus's references to lepers, their texts also demonstrate a constant interplay of "reality" and metaphor in these allusions. There is a rhetorical tendency to talk around the actual subject, perhaps finding it as provocative a sermon topic as cancer and AIDS have been in twentieth-century theological discussion. The disease was repulsive, but the metaphor, at least, was safe, giving the speaker a sense of power over the uncontrollable terror. In Oration 14.37 Nazianzen uses this rhetorical allusion rather than directly identifying the disease as lepra: "If there is in you no wound, no bruise, no swelling sores, no leprosy of the soul [XeTipa iiq yvyflc,], no touch or a symptom as of'something shining' which however small is still to be submitted to the law, you still stand in need of the healing hand of Christ. . . . " In this extended sermon with its vehement advocacy of physical aid and Christian compassion for diseased exiles, this is the only instance in which Gregory of Nazianzus actually uses the word lepra. Gregory of Nyssa reflects a similar reluctance to speak directly and openly of this ailment as "leprosy" and its victims as "lepers," although he, like Nazianzen, consistently identifies them with Lazarus, the biblical beggar in Luke 16. Nyssen's first oration describes to his audience the debauchery of their very own parties, while "myriads of Lazaruses are sitting by the gate, dragging themselves along painfully, some deprived of eyes, the others with amputated feet, some quite literally creep, mutilated in all their members. . . ."104

102. E.g., Aesch., Choephoroi 279-82. 103. The text survives only in an abbreviated Slavic translation and some Greek fragments. For discussion see L. G. Patterson, Methodius of Olympus: Divine Sovereignty, Human Freedom, and Life in Christ (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1997), 235-39. Patterson notes that Origen's allegorical approach clearly influenced this treatise, which consists of a discussion of the prescriptions in Lev. 13 and interprets leprosy as sin in the church. 104. GNys, Paup. i; GNO 9.1:106.

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In Oration 14.6 Gregory of Nazianzus refers to leprosy as the "sacred disease" (f| iepd vocxx;), an appellation ancient medical writers reserved for epilepsy: "But above all we must be moved to pity for those who are being destroyed by the sacred disease, whose flesh is consumed even to the bones and marrow." In context this Cappadocian reference clearly does not imply epilepsy and this use of the phrase "sacred disease" seems unprecedented for leprosy.105 These authors use it instead to evoke the biblical image of the sacred beggar, Lazarus. Nazianzen orders his audience to honor those who have "the sickness that is holy, holding in reverence those who have gained the victory through suffering, lest there be some Job hidden among the sick who, though he may scrape his festering body with a potsherd is more to be revered than those who are sound in body; Lazarus gained salvation and found peace in Abraham's bosom" (14.34). Gregory of Nazianzus calls it "this public infirmity" (f| Kowfi doGeveia; Or. 14.8) and "the most grievous, the most dreaded of all, and by many the most readily invoked as a malediction" (14.9). While Gregory of Nyssa also calls leprosy the "sacred disease,"106 it is for him a horrible sanctity; these creatures are victims of a grievous or "terrible [%aX,ercr|] disease."107 Emphasis on the leper's sanctity and power of mediation with God, as it is related to his suffering, may further contribute to this interpretation of leprosy as "holy." Leprosy was a disease "apart" and Lazarus its quintessential representative, although the biblical text itself never states that Lazarus was a leper. Nevertheless, John Chrysostom emphatically asserts the sanctity of this diseased beggar in his sermons on Lazarus and the rich man, delivered in Antioch in 388 or 389: "He lay there, sitting like a gold coin beside the road, but even more valuable. . . . He wiped his soul clean, he put on endurance, he demonstrated patience. His body was lying down but his mind was running forward, his will had grown wings."108 While neither Gregory explicitly states that the diseased body of the lepers was "holy" in itself, apart from the biblical referent of Lazarus, their repeated identification of this body as a material manifestation of deity and cosmic image achieves the same purpose. The sick bodies of the destitute poor are imbued with a very particular importance that is somehow rooted precisely in the state of their poverty and is related to their identification with Christ. From its identification as the prototype of all religious pollution, physical leprosy is reformed into sanctity, and its identification with pollution reserved for "spiritual" leprosy, the diseased soul. Physical lepers become the essential means by which spiritual lepers may find a mediator to wipe away their own polluting spots of greed and passion. Here lepers, once set apart for their pollution, become a symbol of all that is now "set apart" for God. For both Gregories, as with Chrysostom, the ill beggars lying on the ground are holy coins that

105. Several centuries later Sophronius of Jerusalem similarly identifies elephantiasis as r] itpct voooi; in his Miracula Cyri et Joannis 15 (PG 87.34690). 106. GNys, Anim. et res.; for English trans, and note see NPNF2 5.462. 107. GNys, Paup. z; GNO 9.1:113. 108. ]. Chrys., "Sixth Sermon on Lazarus and the Rich Man/On the Earthquake," ed. and trans. Catherine P. Roth, Saint John Chrysostom: On Wealth and Poverty (Crestwood, N.Y.: St. Vladimir's Seminary Press, 1984), 108.

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"bear the countenance of our Savior."109 These "myriads of Lazaruses" are "the beloved of Christ [who embody] the essential commandment."110 To regard these people who share our own nature as unrelated strangers is to tear apart "the unity of the spirit."111 They ought to be touched physically, without repulsion, since "the Lord of the angels . . . put on this stinking and unclean flesh, with the soul thus enclosed, in order to effect a total cure of your ills by his touch."112 The audience is thus invited to seek this contagion of holiness, which is available only by direct contact with those who possess it, and in this way those who assist these destitute find healing for their own diseases of wealth and greed. The boundary between body and metaphor was as elusive as that between matter and spirit. Physical images were readily translated into spiritual "realities" by both medical and religious writers. Reverse Contagion in Gregory ofNyssa The Greek verb that Nyssen used for "contagion", neTa6i5(Djii, was commonly used as a positive expression implying "sharing" or "distribution". It is precisely this capacity for sharing that both Gregories describe as the leper's greatest gift to their audience. Gregory of Nyssa writes, "The hand is mutilated but it is not insensitive to assistance. The foot is gangrenous but always able to run to God. The eye is missing, but it discerns invisible goodness, nonetheless, to the enlightenment of the soul. . . . If we want to be received by them [the lepers] in the eternal dwellings, let us receive them now."113 On a material level, Gregory is recommending redemptive almsgiving, but it is an almsgiving that functions, like the therapeutic massage, by personal interaction with the sick body. Although Gregory of Nyssa argues that leprosy is exclusively internal and not contagious, he deliberately uses this image of contagion to argue for spiritual healing based in a type of "reverse contagion." That is, he suggests that goodness and salvation are also contagious. This contagion of holiness may be "caught" through direct contact with lepers, channels of divine sanctity, as they are "always able to run to God." The persons who assist them may receive healing of their own "diseases" of wealth and greed. In this way the church needs contact with lepers in order to cure spiritual diseases. Yet lepers also need contact with the healthy to relieve their own very physical suffering. Gregory depicts this contagion as both limited and necessary. Just as healthy skin does not self-destruct over a pimple, he says, but rather "the healthy parts act together to resorb the place of infection," so also, he exhorts, his audience must surround these sick and support their restoration. To support his argument that lepers cannot transmit their illness to those who are physically well, he gives what he considers an incontrovertible proof: "Is there indeed anyone among the strong whose health deteriorates by association with the sick, even if they are in extremely close contact while providing medical care? No; this does not happen. Indeed, the oppo-

109. GNys, Paup. i; GNO 9.1: 98. no. Ibid.; GNO 9.1: 106. in. Ibid., 2; GNO 9.1:114. 112. Ibid.; GNO 9.1: 115. 113. Ibid.; GNO 9.1:122,123.

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site is more likely, I say: that illness cannot even be transmitted [ur|8£ . . . neTapaiveiv] from the sick to those who are healthy."114 Perhaps with his sister Macrina and brother, Peter, in mind, he says, "How often we see people who have devoted their lives to [care for] the sick from their youth to their old age, without their health being in the least affected. . . . Nothing happens to them. . . . In thus preparing for the kingdom of heaven, there is no [danger of] harm to the body of the one who serves."115 This contagion of holiness necessarily works in two directions. Gregory of Nyssa exhorts his spiritually ill audience, "If we wish to heal the wounds by which our sins have afflicted us, heal today the ulcers which break down their flesh."116 As angels do not shrink from touching human flesh, he says, and as Christ took on "putrid" flesh, so the putrid flesh of the leper is in direct contact with the divine power, like Lazarus in Abraham's bosom. Once there is no more weaving to be done on the corruptible and terrestrial body, Gregory asserts, this ooze, blood, pus, and bile of the ptochoi will yield to the manifest interior beauty of the soul.117 The Lepers Body. A Permeable Membrane in the Mutable Cosmos While both Nyssen and Nazianzen use similar images of the suffering leper, Nyssen's theological understanding of the created world lends itself especially to a discussion of contagion as an aspect of theological healing consonant with the medical understanding of disease as an environmental and cosmic imbalance within a universal whole. Nyssen's depiction of the leper as a sacred physical representation of divinity and cosmos may be best understood within the broader Christian discussion at this time of physical mutability in the context of redemption. I suggest that Nyssen's theology of the incarnation as rooted in a necessarily mutable body, particularly in the succinct argument found in his later treatise, the Oratio catechetica magna, or "Great Catechetical Oration," helps to explain his positive affirmation of reverse contagion in the Peri philoptochias sermons, although a full exploration of his theology concerning mutability is well beyond the limits of this discussion. Gregory of Nyssa is sometimes called the "mystic" of the three Cappadocians. This "mysticism" relates to his philosophic understanding of deity, reality, and cosmos. Two dominant elements in his mystical theology include his argument that evil has no independent existence and his repeated attempts to explain the mysterious nature of knowing God. Because these so-called "mystic" tendencies may seem to render a "New Age" tone to his cosmology, Gregory's understanding of healing as a reciprocal and global consequence of positive contagion may sound modern. However, this unity of the image is not "pantheism" or "monism" in a modern sense but rather reflects Gregory's understanding of body and universe as he has reworked Platonic images into his Christian view of incarnation. 118 In his sermon on the love of

114. Ibid.; GNO 9.1:124. 115. Ibid.; GNO 9.1:124-25. 116. Ibid.; GNO 9.1:123. 117. Ibid.; GNO 9.1:122. 118. The classic study is Harold Fredrik Cherniss, "The Platonism of Gregory of Nyssa," University of California Publications in Classical Philology 11.1 (1930; rept. New York and London: Johnson Reprint

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the poor, Nyssen defines this deification in terms of the Platonic primordial image, especially as it relates to direct contact with the leper: "Mercy and good deeds are works God loves; they divinize those who practice them and impress them into the likeness of goodness, that they might become the image of the Primordial Being, incomposite [or, pure], which surpasses all intelligence."119 Gregory of Nyssa's view of incarnation and transcendence is built on his understanding of mutability, the capacity of a substance, usually human flesh, to undergo material change. This concept, especially as found in his Catechetical Oration, is particularly relevant to his revisionist view of contagion in spiritual healing. Here he explains the mystical mingling of deity with body, his view of the Christian incarnation as something special, and its effect, which he asserts depends entirely on Christ's ability to undergo physical change: For who is so simple-minded as not to believe, when he considers the universe, that the Divine Being is in every thing, clothing Himself with it, embracing it, and residing in it? ... If, then, all things are in Him and He in all things, why are they ashamed of the plan of our religion which teaches that God came to be in man, seeing that we believe that not even now is He outside man? . . . For if the manner in which God is present in us is not the same as it was in that case,120 yet it is none the less admitted that now, as then, He is equally in us. Now He is commingled with us, in that He maintains nature in existence. Then [i.e., in Christ] he mingled Himself with our nature in order that by this mingling with the Divine Being our nature might become divine, being delivered from death and set free from the tyranny of the adversary. For His return from death becomes to this race of mortals the beginning of the return to the immortal life. 121

For Nyssen, mutability is a means to redemption. Once the body's mutable elements are understood as distinct from evil, sin, and passion, divine incarnation is a morally acceptable possibility. To the constructed opponents in his treatise, those who could not tolerate the idea that the Divine could have mingled with the polluting functions of conception, birth, physical change in growth, and death, Gregory retorts, "there is nothing disgraceful in what is free from moral evil."122 That is, there is no vice inherent in the vulnerability nor liminality of creation. Gregory argues this most directly in chapter 28, where he explicitly defends the positive value of the human body as it relates to the birth process, particularly that of Christ's incarnation. Within this argument Gregory treats the reproductive organs as part of God's design to overcome death. His argument for sexual function may also be applied to his view of the body as a whole:

Corp., 1971), 1-92; see also Robin Darling Young, "Gregory of Nyssa's Use of Theology and Science in Constructing Theological Anthropology," Pro Ecdesia 2 (1993): 345-63 and Alden A. Mosshammer, "The Created and Uncreated in Gregory of Nyssa Contra Eunomium i, 105-13," in Mateo-Seco and Bastero (eds), El "Contra Eunomium I" en la production literaria de Gregorio de Nisa, 353-79. 119. GNys, Paup. i; GNO 9.1:103. 120. I.e., Christ, here assuming the uniqueness of Christ's incarnation. 121. GNys, Or. catech. 25, trans. Srawley, The Catechetical Oration of St. Gregory of Nyssa, 79-80. 122. Ibid., 9, trans. Srawley, 53.

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The whole structure of the human body is of equal value in all its parts, and . . . nothing in it which contributes to the maintenance of life can be accused of being dishonorable or evil. For the whole equipment of the organism of the body has been designed with one end in view, and that end is to preserve humanity in existence. . . . What is there, then, unworthy of God in the contents of our religion, if God mingled himself with human life by those means which nature employs to fight against death. 123

Here Gregory argues that, while they might indeed be capable of evil uses, bodily functions per se cannot transmit the impurity or vice which would alienate them from deity. To his age, which instinctively found certain body functions "unspiritual," Gregory was emphatic that neither physical change nor contact with body products presented any moral barrier to the divine incarnation, or to participation in it. He builds this argument further in his chapter on the Eucharist. Here the subject is not change associated with sexual functions but rather the mutability of digestion, an essential aspect not only for theology but also for medicine in that it treated the humoral imbalances with agents intended to effect physical change. Gregory's discussion of Eucharist as it is found in the Catechetical Oration is based on his position that body and soul, which are both wounded and in need of redemption, experience healing through different routes. Salvation is "effected in the soul by being blended with Him by faith. But the body comes into fellowship with its Savior and is blended with Him in a different way."124 The spiritual significance of food, that is, the eucharistic bread and wine, lay precisely in its relationship to the digestive process at its most literal level:125 The constitution of our body has nothing that we can recognize of its own to maintain itself by, but continues by means of the force introduced into it, [that is] nourishment. . . . Man finds his chief sustenance in bread [and in] water often sweetened with wine. . . . By passing into me those elements become body and blood,. . . so in [Christ's] case too, the Body which was the receptacle of deity, receiving the nourishment of bread was, in some sense identical with i t . . . seeing that the nourishment was changed into the nature of the Body.126

Thus for Gregory, the efficacy and power of the Eucharist depended precisely on an element of mutability: the power of Christ's body to become bread, a power possible by the very basic physical function of digestion, helped somewhat here by Gregory's skill at rhetorical imagery. Because food maintains the constitution of the body and because bread is the chief food of the human body, so then bread may be viewed as potentially identical with body. For Gregory this is not simply a metaphor; it is the reality on which the salvation of the body absolutely depends. Mutability, the power

123. Ibid., 28, trans. Srawley, 86-87. 124. Ibid., 37, trans. Srawley, 107. 125. Reminiscent of Clement of Alexandria's description of the conversion of breast milk to blood, and its theological implications, in his Paed. 1.6. 126. GNys, Or. catech. 37, trans. Srawley, 109-10.1 am indebted to Robert J. Daly, S. ]., for first directing me to this text.

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of deity incarnate to take on the form of bread in order to enter the human body of its recipients, thus becomes a necessary agent of divine activity. This "contagion of holiness" depends on a particulate body.

Conclusion In the medical and philosophical world of the Cappadocians, physical change, that is, alteration in heat and body fluids brought about by such things as sex, childbirth, lactation, vomiting, excesses of any kind, and even ordinary growth, were traditionally perceived as potential threats that might upset the balance of the embodied soul. Any disorder might lead to disease; death and putrefaction were the ultimate proofs of mutability. All three Cappadocians wrote extensively against the neo-Arian dialogue of the day, which regarded Christ's participation in this mutable flesh as evidence that He was dissimilar to the eternal Father. In the Catechetica magna oratio, Nyssen takes great care to counter this neo-Arian view, especially in his discussion of the Eucharist, by distinguishing between that which is mutable and that which is sinful. By arguing that participation in a dynamic of change need not imply a participation in evil, Gregory of Nyssa defends the position that Christ could indeed experience physical change and still share equal divinity with the Father. Without this positive theological understanding of physical change, I suggest, Gregory would probably not have used the lepers' diseased body quite so graphically in constructing a positive understanding of contagion, even as a mystical or spiritual metaphor. Theories regarding wounds and contagion would be meaningless in his sermons on the poor if they did not fundamentally assume the positive potential of incarnate change. This theory of mutability, as essential to Christ's redemptive power, readily lends itself to all other physical manifestations of the sacred realm. The leper's body becomes a healing agent in homeopathic spiritual therapy that is able to absorb the spiritual diseases of the rich who lay their hands on them to help and to transmit redemptive healing in return. While this image is most evident in Gregory of Nyssa's texts, it does not conflict with anything in Gregory of Nazianzen's very similar sermon on the same subject. Both Gregories argued for physical contact with the sick to effect spiritual healing. Gregory of Nazianzus's text says less about the human body and addresses a wider range of social (and religious) objections to relieving poverty. While these differences are in no way contradictory in these texts, they influence the relative emphasis each author places on touch and contagion, regardless of clearly similar social context. There is no conflict in these texts between ancient medicine and early Christian doctrine. Gregory of Nyssa and Gregory of Nazianzus's advice, to make direct contact with the leper as a means of transmitting physical healing, "catching" their holiness, speaks from their traditional understanding of homeopathic healing. Thus the extended image of reverse contagion, although focused on spiritual ideals and a Christian appropriation of philanthropic patronage, is best understood against the medical and philosophic perceptions of Graeco-Roman late antiquity as these perceptions relate to cosmic and internal causation and the risk of contagion. Gregory of Nyssa's argument for the contagion of holiness from others' suffer-

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ing, based in a human touch that ministers to the physical needs of the leper and gains spiritual blessing in return, proposes an act that effects Platonic and Christian theosis. Unlike the Greek philosophers, however, Gregory centers his arguments in the sick body itself. He can do this precisely because of his positive view of creation and mutability as necessary factors in Christ's incarnation. By taking the lepers' flesh in hand, those who minister to them participate in the divine immanence of creation that proceeds from the incarnate Son's essential sharing in both deity and cosmos. Through the enacting of a positive, reverse contagion, the boundary between "self" and "other" does not disappear but here becomes a permeable membrane. The rich can attain redemption only by participating in good works that literally get "under the skin" of the poor leper, through this provision of food, warmth, and healing ointments. The leper's sanctity in turn hangs on the divine harmony between an eternal God and the choice of that deity to assume incarnation and mutability. The Gregories' sermons on leprosy weave together scriptural, philosophic, and physiologic images of therapy to argue for the redemptive unity of both society and cosmos, for the literal reality of incarnation, and the embodiment of Christ in the poor. For the Gregories, both this unity and the return to the divine primordial image are visible in, and attainable through, the destitute and diseased poor as they are transformed from exile into the active civic and religious liturgies of the Christian community.

5

Conclusion Between Courtyard and Altar

To ask for vegetables is no great strain on a friendship . . . for you have plenty of them and we a great dearth. I beg you, send me vegetables, and plenty of them, and the best quality, and as many as you can (for even small things are great to the poor), for I am going to receive the great Basil, and you, who have had experience of him full and philosophical, would not like to know him hungry and irritated. Gregory of Nazianzus to Amphilochius

n conclusion, the body of the involuntary poor in the Cappadocian texts dwells in a negative space, a space marked by what is absent. While those with influential, landowning friends could usually remedy their needs, as Nazianzen appeals to Amphilochius for vegetables,1 by well-phrased power negotiations with peers or patrons, it was this very lack of power that characterized the negative space in which the poor dwelt. First, they lacked power over food and natural resources, which led to hunger and thirst, and in times of crisis, starvation. Second, they lacked an economically beneficial role in civic exchanges for goods and services, which led to victimizing debt, usury, slavery, and material loss through the very market by which they, themselves, were defined. The English term penury, from the Latin penuria, may also suggest the Greek penetes, the image of the generic poor, those in society who function in perpetual economic need. Third, in part as a result of these first two, interrelated deficits, they lacked power to maintain wellness, which occasioned increasing vulnerability to chronic and acute disease, and often homelessness and social exile. The significance of these people in these texts lies chiefly in the civic and cosmic consequences of their deprivation, which is aggravated by the spiritual illness and disorder of the socially empowered Christians in society who, according to Basil and the Gregories, failed to meet both the fundamental Graeco-Roman ideals of patronage and civic works and the biblical ideals of mercy and justice. The poor remain witnesses before God to this disorder.

I

i. GNaz, Ep. 25, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF2 7.467; For Greek see Gallay, Saint Gregoire: Lettres, 1.33. 168

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Restoration and healing begin, according to these texts, when the community admits the poor into the liturgies traditionally associated with community life, but also when it acts in accord with certain biblical images: by feeding the hungry, by granting justice to the fiscal needs and identity of needy members, by acknowledging their citizenship, kinship, and redemptive power in the heavenly city, and by participating in, and effecting, cosmic healing through a social and ministering intercourse with the diseased bodies of these other. Yet even in this powerful and intimate interaction with the poor, with its sometimes radical prescription for material redistribution, social class differences remain effectively unchanged and, despite Basil's community ideals, the poor remain ever other. These texts view the poor — and construct an image of the poor they view — from a location that is, to paraphrase one of the minor prophets the Cappadocians so frequently cite, "between the courtyard and the altar" (Joel 2:17), the traditional biblical location where repentance and self-reform begins. The sermons are sometimes at one end of this space, sometimes at the other, and sometimes traversing the ecclesial aisle that leads the audience (and the reader) between the two vantage points. From the courtyard of the church in antiquity, one looked out into the city. Anyone might congregate in the courtyard; it was a prime spot for beggars. Penitents, too, might participate in worship from this outer boundary. The church courtyard was a space in which fourth-century Christianity appropriated civic space and redefined it according to the heavenly city. A courtyard might also, in the Roman world, be the place where patron met client, where engagement in civic liturgies affirmed one's rightful place and power in the polis/urbs, a location from which the Christian rich might participate in the humanity of the poor and gain the benefits of their divine access to power. At the other end of this aisle, within the most sacred space of the church, the altar was the place where courtyard met cosmos. It was where body met Body, word met Word, a place of liturgical becoming, as the human might participate in the divine and be transformed but remain ever other, as the poor are ever other. As the Cappadocians use these sermons to traverse the ground between these two meeting points, they wear down a path that both affirms an ancient liturgical link and defines it in the new religious terms of Christian philanthropy and philoptochia, a track others will follow in the ongoing civic administration by a Christianized society. This track represents not only the passage, back and forth, of the physical, ministering body, but also the power of the rhetorical word as it faces the altar, fills the church, and speaks to the city.

Gregory of Nazianzus, "On His Father's Silence" This multidirectional and defining dialogue —and with it the major themes that have been considered in this study —is especially evident in Gregory of Nazianzus's extraordinary and dynamic address, In patrem tacentem, "On his Father's Silence" (Or. 16). Spoken very consciously between courtyard and altar, with both in view and demanding simultaneous attention, Gregory here addresses a mob in the presence of the city's most influential priest, his father, mediating a path between chaos, on the one hand and on the other, silence. The sermon is notable not only for its image of social and economic disaster at hand, but also, stylistically, for the way in which Gregory uses multiple voices to address his audience.

170 Conclusion Voice and Audience Gregory's Oration 16 was probably delivered at Nazianzus in 373, a year after the catastrophic incident of his election to Sasima. While Gregory had allowed the forced ordination under Basil and his father's hand, he refused to fulfill it and fled soon afterward into brief monastic seclusion in the mountains of Pamphilia. When he came home to Nazianzus, choosing to act as his elderly father's co-adjutor, he entered into a period characterized by his choice of speech over silence. In Ad patrem (Or. 12), preached soon after his return, he affirms, "I am the divine instrument, a rational instrument,. . . played by ... the Spirit. Yesterday he worked a silence in me. My philosophy was not to speak. Today he plays the instrument of my mind — let the word be heard. My philosophy shall be to speak."2 He made it clear that he was willing to act as priest at Nazianzus only as long as his father lived, and not as a contender for the succession; indeed, he remained priest at Nazianzus for only a few months after his father's death, probably in early 374. The year 373 was difficult for the city of Nazianzus, and Oration 16 is in some ways comparable to Basil's Homily 8 in the situation of unprecedented disaster that induced its delivery. Cattle plague, drought, and then violent hail had wiped out livestock and the summer harvest. With nothing to pay their taxes, the people appealed to the authorities. When the appeal was denied, and tax collectors began to knock at the gates, the Nazianzens threw them out. In reaction the Roman authorities threatened vengeance on the city itself. While Oration 16 mentions only the natural disasters and nothing of government politics or taxes — these are suggested by Ad cives Nazianzenos (Or. 17, dated shortly afterward when the governor came to visit)3 —probably a combination of these sparked the mob's impetus to rush to the church. This sequence of behaviors matches the "alarm" that Robert Dirks identified as the first stage of famine response, discussed in chapter 2. This stage, we recall, is characterized by "abnormal excitement," altruistic sharing, speculative hoarding, panic buying, and political unrest. It is also a crisis state in which ritual performance is expected to increase, as victims interpret the catastrophe as "mythical disturbance" and overwhelmed leaders commonly seek supernatural intervention. The population at Nazianzus was still adequately nourished to direct its energies at resisting the tax collectors and rush, shouting, to the church. The catastrophe had affected civic order but not yet moved in to limit the resources of the physical body itself in literal starvation. Desperate to turn back the effects of this devastation, the people appealed to their most powerful local patron, in this case the bishop, whom they trusted to intercede for them to both God and the political authorities. Neither the bishop nor his son could change the weather, but the bishop did have power to negotiate with both tax representatives and the local prefect; Gregory does this directly in Oration 17 and again the following year, after his father's death, in his address Ad Julianum tributorum exaequatorem (Or. 19). We know that the elderly bishop was also a man with economic power and

2. GNaz., Or. 12.1; PG 35.844; trans. McGuckin, St. Gregory of Nazianzus, forthcoming. 3. For the argument that the political threat also influenced Or. 16 see ibid.

Conclusion 171 experience in his own right. The family was probably among the curiales, a class prominent in the city council and in civic economic decision-making. Of his father's political responsibilities prior to his conversion, Gregory later says, "What greater testimony to [my father's] justice than his exercise of a position second to none in the state without enriching himself by a single coin, although he saw everyone else casting the hands of Briareus upon the public funds. . . ?"4 If the madness of the mob is here indeed linked to their recent political insurrection against the tax collectors and fear of reprisal, as seems to be the case despite the silence of the immediate text, then Gregory's call to repentance maybe understood in terms of their civic disobedience. If the congregation expects the bishop and his son to act as political patrons on their behalf, they need first to cooperate in the general attempt to establish peace and order within the sanctuary, and to show a more ready willingness to obey an authority that might advocate on their behalf. But they arrive at the church to find Gregory the Elder, a man by now in his 905, speechless. Possibly the situation has sent him into shock; possibly he has had a stroke; possibly, recognizing his physical inability to take charge of this onslaught, silence is indeed his deliberate choice; the text is not clear. Where the bishop is silent, the mob induces Gregory the son to speak. However, his first words are to rebuke this demand for speech, asserting that it is part of the present disorder. He begins the sermon bluntly with direct questions: "Why do you infringe upon the approved order of things? Why would you do violence to a tongue which is under obligation to the law? . . . Why, when you have excused the head, have you hastened to the feet? Why do you pass by Aaron and urge forward Eleazar?"5 Thus defending his father's silence, he next immediately turns to his father and demands speech on his own behalf: Speak, in words which, if few, are dear and most sweet to me, which, if scarcely audible, are perceived from their spiritual cry, as God heard the silence of Moses. Comfort this people, I pray rhee, I who was thy nursling and have since been made Pastor and now even Chief Pastor. Give a lesson to me, in the Pastor's art. . . . Discourse a while on this present heavy blow.6 There is no evidence that his father ever replies. It is the son's direct address that gives him a place in the text. This, then, is the first voice, that of Gregory trying to establish order, distinct from both the mob's and his father. But then, perhaps once things have begun to quiet down, his representation changes, as he begins to speak as if in the mob's voice; this technique might further encourage order as he is identifying with them in pleading to his father for help. Here he addresses his father, speaking as a representative of the collective group, his verbal focus in this way directing the focus of the mob even as he uses theological

4. GNaz, Or. 18.6, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF 2 7.256; PC 35.9920. Elsewhere I suggest that the elder Gregory had once been a Roman peraequator; see "Taxing Nazianzus: Gregory and the Other Julian," Studia Patristica 4: Proceedings of the 13"' International Conference on Patristic Studies, 1999,2001, in press. 5. GNaz, Or. 16.1, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF 2 7.247; PG 35.9336, gj6A. 6. Ibid., 16.4-5, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF 2 7.248; PG 35.9370, 9408.

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questions to redirect their general anxiety. Yet at the same time he also seems to be warning the mob of certain behavioral ideals: "What is our calamity and what is its cause? . . . On these points give us instruction and warning, lest we be too much discouraged by our present calamity and fall into the grief of evil and despise it; for some such feeling is very general; but rather that we may bear our admonition quietly and not provoke one more severe."7 In 16.6 Gregory takes up another voice, that of the preacher, directly addressing the mob and seeking to answer these questions. Here he refers, in exactly the same image Basil used a few years earlier, to "the farmers . . . sitting as it were beside the grave of their crops." In the process of this exhortation, he changes the direction of his speech yet again, in 16.10-12, where he draws from biblical images, the preacher taking on the voice of God, reminding the people that God is treating them with greater mercy than he treated the Egyptians: [God says] I began with the flocks and the cattle and the sheep, the fifth plague, and sparing as yet the rational creatures, I struck the animals. . . . [Next] I withheld from you the rain . . . and you said, "We will brave it." I brought the hail upon you, chastising you with the opposite kind of blow: I uprooted your vineyards and shrubberies and crops, but I failed to shatter your wickedness.8

In 16.12, Gregory then addresses his own constructed voice of the divine in an extended prayer, where he now identifies himself again with the people as he addresses God: "May I not become the vine of the beloved? This is what I feel I must say as to my fears . . . and this is my prayer. We have sinned. Priest and people, we have erred together. But stay, Lord, cease, Lord, forgive, Lord."9 In 16.13, Gregory speaks to the congregation again, calling them to repentance, as Basil did, by pointing to a model of helplessness in their own midst, in this case that of his father. "Imitate your trembling priest," he invites them. In this penitential summons he reminds them that he is the bishop's confident representative: "I know also what he enjoins both upon me, the minister of God, and upon you. . . . [Sjanctify a fast, as blessed Joel charges you. . . . God enjoins . . . that we should enter his house in sackcloth, and lament night and day between the porch and the altar. . . . Let us show ourselves men of Nineveh, not of Sodom . .. lest we be frozen into a pillar of salt."10. . . This vivid image must have been even more evocative to his local audience, whose ruined land was set precisely in a landscape full of whitened, pillarshaped rock outcroppings. The devastation might have indeed suggested the fate of Lot's wife in a time of apocalyptic madness. The sermon resembles Basil's in its recurrent call to penance and its many citations from the minor prophets. Gregory draws from Joel, Habakkuk, Amos, Haggai, and Zechariah as well as Jeremiah, Isaiah, Psalms, Proverbs and, as we might expect by now, the judgment scene of Matthew 25. The devastated earth is an image of the

7. Ibid., 16.5, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF 2 7.249; my emphasis; PG 35.94^8. 8. Ibid., 16.10, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF2 7.250; PG 35.9488. 9. Ibid., 16.12, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF 2 7.251; PG 35.949-52, selections. 10. Ibid., 16.13-14, selections, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF 2 7.251-2; PG 35.9520, 9538.

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primordial creation: "The whole earth has become as it was in the beginning, before it was adorned with its beauties" (16.17). As in all the poverty sermons, Gregory blames the audience for all that he identifies as wrong. It is their greed and injustice to the poor that has caused such disorder in the natural world, he says: One of us has oppressed the poor and wrested from him his portion of land . . . and joined house to house and field to field, to rob his neighbor. . . . Another has defiled the land with usury and interest. . . . Another has robbed God of the first fruits. . . . Another has had no pity on the widow and orphan, and not imparted his bread and meagre nourishment to the needy, or rather to Christ, Who is nourished in the person of those who are nourished even in a slight degree. . . . Because of these things the heaven is shut, or opened for our punishment. . . [i]f we do not repent and draw near to Him who approaches us through the powers of nature."

He also shares Basil's concern to prevent hoarding and market speculation. Although he mentions empty warehouses in 16.7, he speaks in 16.18-19 to those whose resources are adequate to shore them up and who might plan to use the disaster as an occasion for profit. It is here that he refers to the biblical patriarch, Joseph, and his justice in famine distribution. In this indictment, warning, and penitential summons, we find most of the key themes present throughout the poverty sermons: land injustice to fellow citizens, usury, hunger, Gregory's typical identification of Christ with the needy, a call to action and penance, and an affirmation of God's active participation in the natural world. These are precisely the same images we find in his poem, Adversus opem amantes, and in both Basil's Homily 7 and Gregory of Nyssa's sermon against usury. At the end, in 16.20, Gregory turns again to directly address his father: "Join with us, thou sacred and divine person in considering these questions."12 As he began by appealing to a noisy crowd for silence, now he renews his appeal to the silent bishop, on his own behalf, that his father speak not principally to the crowd but, taking on the burdens of his people, to God in liturgical prayer. While Gregory the son has accepted the voice of "Chief Pastor" to the mob, he leaves to his father the ultimate divine address: Show thyself, I pray, a Moses or Phinehas today. Stand on our behalf and make atonement, and let the plague be stayed, either by the spiritual sacrifice or by prayer and reasonable intercession. . . . Restrain the anger of the Lord by thy mediation. . . . Intreat for our past wickedness. . . . Beg for bodily sustenance, but beg rather for the angels' food. . . . So doing, thou wilt make God to be our God, thou wilt. . . conciliate heaven.13

The practice of taking on voices not one's own is common in classical rhetoric. And Gregory's frequent transitions in this sermon, from one audience to another, and one role to another, in several direct addresses, is something he does elsewhere in his own work. He was ever keenly conscious of audience response. In Oration 2 11. Ibid., 16.18, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF 2 7.253; PG 35.9570!), 9606. 12. Ibid., 16.20, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF 2 7.254; PG 35.9610. 13. Ibid., selections, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF 2 7.254.

174 Conclusion

he said, "How difficult it is to discuss . . . important questions before a large audience, composed of every age and condition, and needing like an instrument of many strings, to be played upon in various ways; or to find any form of words able to edify them all."14 His sermons frequently contain particular addresses to particular, identified, members of the audience. His funeral oration for his father includes several of these: to his mother, to Basil, to the general congregation, and even to his deceased father, alluding in 18.40 to his father's tendency to suggest that the son was talking too much. In most of these cases, Gregory is focusing on different players in one unifying encomium, but in Oration 16 he is in a more difficult position. He is painfully conscious that he is here faced with the task of simultaneously persuading at least two different audiences to opposite behaviors: the mob to quiet, and his father to speak: the mob to repent, and his father to take the leadership in prayer. Though he is clearly the one who must do the talking, he seeks to use his words to dissuade both the mob and his father from regarding him as the leader in resolving the present crisis. In his attempt to quell the unrest, Gregory gives them the only thing he has to share — the sermon — and transfers their attention from the disaster at hand to his own words and by this points beyond, to his father and, from him to the altar, to prayer, to the divine wrath, and divine power. With such a variety of tasks in such a potentially explosive situation, Gregory might have had some comfort from Aristotle's advice: "In the epideictic style the narrative should not be consecutive, but disjointed."15 The sermon's multitransitional nature works at the very least to keep the reader attentive. Father and Son In pointing to his father, Gregory inevitably draws attention to their relationship. It was a difficult one, and presumably many of those present would have been familiar with some of its finer points. Throughout his work, Gregory says a great deal about this troubled dynamic. He tells his readers directly, "Though I am able to endure all things, this one thing I am bad at: I cannot bear my father's anger."16 That which the biblical scholar Devora Steinmetz wrote about kinship issues in Genesis may also suggest Gregory's dilemma: "Fathers live through their sons. . . . To the father, the son represents both the ultimate promise and the ultimate threat, immortality and death, and the father responds by ... being torn between nurturing [his son] and killing him."17 Throughout his tenure as his father's coadjutor, Gregory often may have been himself unsure which of these two he was experiencing. And Gregory clearly also experienced intense anger toward his father. He may have been very angry at the old man's collusion with Basil, who alone had the authority to grant

14. GNaz, Or. 2.39, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF 2 7.213. 15. Arist, Rh. 3.16.1, trans. J. H. Freese, Aristotle: Art of Rhetoric, LCL (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1926), 443. 16. GNaz, De Vita Sua, 492-94; PG 37.1063, trans. Carolinne White, Gregory ofNazianzus: Autobiographical Poems, Cambridge Medieval Classics 6 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 47. 17. Devora Steinmetz, From Father to Son: Kinship, Conflict and Continuity in Genesis (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1991), 29.

Conclusion 175 Gregory a bishop's appointment —and with it political status and honor; the elder Gregory had helped Basil's election to Caesarea and could have called on Basil to return the favor for his son, despite the son's resistance. And Gregory was certainly angry at his father's relentless expectations for him in the Nazianzen church. Although Gregory returns from Pamphilia willing to work closely alongside his father, he surely must have retained a great deal of this anger still; he was not a man to forget offense. Paternal-filial solidarity and conflict in antiquity was something that defined — and constantly crossed —the boundaries between public and private, family and state. In his study of fathers and sons in ancient Athens,18 Barry Strauss explores how the father-son dynamic becomes a dialogue between oikos and polls. The ideals and expectations of the ancient Athenian father —that the son will be loyal, respectful, obedient, and eventually imitate the father — are precisely what the elder Gregory expected of his son, and the church was a central stage for this dialogue between oikos and polls. Both his father's extreme age and his honor-shame dynamics work together to remind Gregory the son of his liturgical and civic duties, even as he insistently plans to give them up as soon as his father dies. And Gregory once wrote, in referring to a collection of his own letters, "As in a legitimate child, so also in language, the father is always visible."19 To what extent, then, in Oration 16, is Gregory's voice the father's and to what extent the son's? Is he here using the opportunity of his father's aphasia to speak wholly in his own voice even when he seems to represent his father? Or, face-to-face with the most powerful man in both the city and his own life, is he instead speaking according to what he perceives to be his father's expectations, to the best of his ability in the impromptu circumstances? I suggest that here, as elsewhere, whether his father likes it or not, Gregory speaks very much in his own voice. One certainly "sees" his father in this text, but it is a very particular visibility: he is speechless, trembling, a profound externalized object of veneration, an image of intercessory power, even perhaps an extreme irritation, putting his son on the spot like this. His father did need him and very likely Gregory on some level also "needed" his father. There is a hint here that Gregory is also actively working to protect both father and others in the system from facing the effects, if not the image, of his father's mortality.20 Gregory does this not only by his physical presence here, but also by his suggestion in Oration 16.1 that his father's incapacity may well be the deliberate and sacred choice of his father's will. Indeed the father is visible. The voice here radiates with both an awareness of the elder's weakness and of the son's true (if exasperated) compassion. In this generative body of his texts from this period, Gregory reveals his own profound inner conflict concerning this relationship as it affects on his own self-identity, both his distress at being forced into the public role of priestly mediator and administrator, and his own measureless passion for the liturgical word. Both an awareness of his father's power, and the ten-

18. Barry S. Strauss, Fathers and Sons in Athens: Ideology and Society in the Era of the Peloponnesian War (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1993). 19. GNaz, Ep. 52, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF2 7.477; Gallay, St. Cregoire: Lettres, 1.69. 20. What some modern psychologists call that "silent male dance"; see for example Samuel Osherson, Finding Our Fathers: The Unfinished Business of Manhood (N.Y.: The Free Press, 1986), 21.

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sion of the son's determination not to wholly buy into it, are present in Gregory's references to his father throughout his work. Indeed, despite Gregory's constant assertion of his difference in their life directions, he addresses his father here as he would address God: omnipotent rather than impotent, capable of rational speech rather than aphasic, deigning not to grant speech in the midst of the chaotic din. Drawing from Gregory's summons to his father for prayers in 16.20, John McGuckin views the sermon as ending with the son physically leading the father to the altar that they may there together intercede for the people. Although this literal act of repositioning is not explicit in the text itself, it is a most moving image, as father and son collaborated, despite their differences, in an inevitable, complex, and public role-reversal: [The sermon's] conclusion, as he took up his old and bewildered father and led him into the altar to begin the solemn intercessions for the town is truly a touching spectacle. The bewilderment of the old man . . . already in his late 905 . . . Gregory, a mature man already "old" for that era at 44 leading the gruff and dominant paterfamilias by the hand like a child marks a full circle. . . . This moment, above most others, is perhaps the time of his maturing as a man, as bishop, and as Christian social and theological leader.21

The church at Nazianzus had for years been the old man's baby. Now he himself has become the dependent. Despite his father's physical frailty, Gregory maintains him as the stronger and more sacred person. As with the penitential infant, the starving leper, and the poor, so in this text with the speechless old man, victimized by the mob, one find the image of a redemptive mediator by whom, Gregory says, "our earthly frame [shall yield up] the fruit which is eternal, which we shall shore up in the heavenly winepresses by your hands, who presents both us and ours in Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom be glory for evermore."22 Gregory's deifying image of the city's bishop here seems based, not on the elder's weakness and physical poverty, but simply on the fact that he is his father. He might have easily repeated the words he addressed to his father ten years earlier, after he came home from his flight to Pontus following his forced ordination into the priesthood: "Here am I, my father, utterly vanquished, and your subject according to the laws of Christ rather than according to those of the land; here is my obedience, reward it with your blessings."23 In conclusion, Oration 16 is significantly different from Gregory's Peri philoptochias sermon in both rhetorical context and purpose. Although injustice to the poor is a subtext in Gregory's call to repentance, Oration 16 does not, in fact, discuss the poor and does not define, in terms of poverty, either audience or the acute crisis that

21. McGuckin, St Gregory of Nazianzus, forthcoming. McGuckin draws this image from orthodox liturgical tradition, arguing that Gregory's Or. 16.20 "fits into the last part of the liturgy of the word. The action of beginning the prayers of intercession requires the presiding priest to move to the right side of the altar to begin the intercessions, while the deacon moves to the front of the bema and the bishop stands in the middle of the front of the altar with raised hands. This means that, litnrgically, Gregory would have had to come to invite his father to enter the altar area (from his seat) and stand by him as he led off the prayers" (McGuckin, pers. comm.). 22. GNaz, Or. 16.20, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF 2 7.254; PG ^.()6^A. 23. Ibid., 2.116, trans. Browne and Swallow, NPNF 2 7.227.

Conclusion 177 faces the entire city. Yet the space of this text and its multiple audiences, and Gregory's image of his father, cannot be separated from the oikos-polis dynamic, the church's place in the civic order, and especially the relationship of church to city in a situation such as this, of economic crisis. Gregory's Oration 16 speaks very consciously to this relationship, with both church and city in view and demanding simultaneous attention. And Oration 16 shares many features common to the other poverty sermons, especially in the nature of the relationship between need and liturgical identity, with both religious and political implications. This is a sermon suggesting heavy traffic along that sanctuary path between the courtyard and the altar. Gregory does not just address one, and then the other but hurries back and forth, certainly in his text and possibly also literally, in the original oral delivery. By thus assuming the various voices present, in a sort of "one man show" with moving props, Gregory negotiates the sacred space of civic and biblical patron. The gift here is the sermon; there is no breadline promised for coffee hour, no handout of coins at the door assured for the tax collectors. In turning the mob's attention to his father, the liturgy, and prayer, Gregory mediates a path between chaos and silence as he directs the city to the altar and to its representative of sacred power: his father. Only through his father's prayers can the people, Gregory suggests, truly achieve atonement, divine mediation, and heavenly reconciliation. Thus his father, trembling, sick, and possibly here even a victim of stroke, becomes the incarnate person at the altar through whom those affected by social and natural disorder may begin to be healed. As he mediates the space between city and altar, ever unwilling to be fully identified with one or the other, Gregory the son acts as a patron in the economic gift exchange of civic liturgies, giving the word to the people even as he gives responsibility for the people's care back firmly into his father's hands.

Synesius at the Altar: The Continuation of Diversity The themes explored in the Cappadocian texts are indeed precisely this limited; they are themes located in these particular authors. Although the manuscript tradition suggests that the Cappadocians' sermons on poverty had a significant influence on subsequent Christian expression of relief and destitution, it would be completely false to suggest that they present a definitive model for all subsequent "normative" Christianity. There was no universal and neatly linear progression in the way that Christians in late antiquity came to view involuntary poverty in their midst. While the poor entered certain Christian monastic and moral texts quite early, other Christian texts continued into late antiquity to demonstrate a Hellenistic view in which poverty was not regarded as a special social identity. One place where this is particularly evident is in the writings of Synesius, Christian bishop of Pentapolis in Gyrene, as that city crumbled under Gothic invasions early in the fifth century. Synesius was one of "those historical figures between dying Hellenism and rising Christianity,"24 who lived and died with his feet firmly planted in both worlds. Syne-

24. Johannes Quasten, Patrology (Utrecht: Spectrum, 1950; rept. Westminster, Md.: Christian Classics, 1992), 5.106.

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sius rarely says anything about poverty; when he mentions it at all, it is to praise it with a Roman nostalgia for the sparse and simple life. He praises the abundant but simple food and pleasures of his peasant neighbors as "the good things of the poor."25 Synesius regards poverty as static; there is "no room . . . for the burden of misfortune."26 While he does not focus on the poor in particular, he understands poverty as a disempowered state; he is quick to argue in De regno 4 that those who are unwise ought to be poor, since this would prevent them from having the necessary power to damage society by their errors. Yet he also speaks of the virtue of many who are poor, "just and law-abiding . . . not ashamed to dwell with poverty."27 The reference here is to those who have chosen poverty, but he does not include himself in this group. His ideal view of priesthood differs significantly from Basil's concern with administration; Synesius recognizes the inherent distractions in ecclesiastical responsibilities but argues that, above all, "contemplation is the end and aim of the priesthood."28 These texts suggest that for Synesius, as for the classical citizen, the destitute poor were simply not recognized as a special category demanding moral notice. This is evident in the one place where Synesius does speak at length of destitution and liturgical response. In the year 412, when he was 40 years old and had been a bishop for barely two years, Synesius faced the devastation of his native Pentapolis, a devastation that probably killed him in the end. In his Catastasis he describes the disordering of his entire civic world, first disrupted by environmental crises, then torn apart by barbarian invasions. His evocative lament over this world and his own anticipated death at the church altar contains many of the same basic images one finds in the Cappadocian poverty sermons: I have often seen a woman carrying a sword and suckling infants at the same time. . . . Our youth are being carried off captive to augment the armies of our foe. Who would blame the guiltless, for whom the burden of years and chronic attacks of disease have invoked our mercy? Pentapolis has incurred the hatred of God. There was the locust. There was the conflagration which consumed the crops of three states even before the enemy came. . .. [Anticipating the enemy's approach, he concludes:] I shall cling fast to the sacred pillars which hold up the inviolate communion table from the ground. Perchance I must complete my service by offering up my life. God will not in any case overlook the altar, bloodless, though stained by the blood of a priest.29 There are no destitute poor in this text in the same way we find them in the Cappadocian texts. Instead, Synesius describes an entire civic community that war, dis-

25. Synesius, Ep. 148, in The Letters of Synesius ofCyrene, ed. and trans. Augustine FitzGerald (London: Oxford University Press, 1926), 247. For a general discussion on Synesius, see Jay Bregman, Synesius ofCyrene (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982). 2.6. Synesius, De regno 3, in The Essays and Hymns of Synesius ofCyrene, trans. Augustine FitzGerald (London: Oxford University Press, 1930), 1.112. 27. Synesius, De regno 21, ibid., 1.145. 28. Synesius, Ep. 57, trans. FitzGerald, The Letters, 137. 29. Synesius, Catastasis, trans. FitzGerald, The Essays and Hymns, 2.365, 366, 368. Kennedy remarks that this "speech, if delivered, must have had an exceedingly depressing effect on the audience"; Kennedy, Greek Rhetoric under Christian Emperors, 22.

Conclusion 179 ease, and agricultural disaster have reduced to collective poverty and famine. It is ordinary, honorable citizens who are here victimized into selling their children, losing their sons to their enemies, and suckling their infants along the front lines. Wartime penury, famine, and disease have driven the bishop to the altar, not to pray but simply to "cling fast" to that traditional point of sanctuary for pagans and Christians alike. There is no Christian image at this altar of substitutionary redemption; slaughter is everywhere, and no one's life is saved by another's death. Yet Synesius considers it most appropriate that his own death should occur at the altar precisely because of his "ministry," his "service," his leitourgia. He apologizes to God about the blood, as might any conscientious Neoplatonic philosopher,30 or any late antique Christian. The altar will remain a sacred place in spite of it: "bloodless, though stained by the blood of a priest." Here the bishop will die as the religious patron of his people, fulfilling his proper civic duty. In imaging himself dying at the altar, slaughtered by the marauders who will (he thinks) certainly find him there at the sacred pillars, Synesius is expressing more than simply the melodrama of a brilliant philosophical writer facing tragedy. He constructs his plight in terms of his liturgical identity in relation to "his" people: the community of church, village, and city. It is their tragedy, not their poverty, which is also his own tragedy and gives meaning to his stance. While the people themselves do not here enter into an identification with the liturgy in the same sense they do for Gregory of Nazianzus and for John Chrysostom, Synesius himself does participate in the liturgical image of finding God — or rather, being found — at the altar. That this image was so natural for him, a Roman who more frequently calls himself a philosopher than a Christian, reminds us that liturgical identity was a classical norm independent of either poverty or Christianity. The difference between Synesius's perception of his relation to his social world and the Cappadocian perception is not one of the position the bishop played in civic and religious liturgy. Rather, it involves the position of the destitute poor within these liturgies. The Cappadocian texts use classical rhetoric and evolving Christian ideas to bring the poor into the center of the religious text and place them symbolically at the altar or central image; Synesius, on the other hand, like the classical non-Christian patron, does not see the destitute at all except as part of the general population, and he places himself (and his murderers) at the altar. Each approach represents a Christian use of Graeco-Roman leitourgia, with the Cappadocians deliberately appropriating the poor while Synesius considers them only as part of the general moral backdrop of text and society.

Conclusion The fourth century was a time when emerging Christian bishops crafted for Christianity a new discourse about politics and poverty using the language and images they inherited —and borrowed — from their surrounding culture. These appropriations were rarely straightforward and perhaps even often unrecognized by those who

30. For the Neoplatonists' abhorrence of blood sacrifice, see esp. Porphyry, De abstinentia; English trans. Thomas Taylor and ed. Esme Wynne Tyson, Porphyry: On Abstinence from Animal Food (London: Centaur Press, 1965). I believe Gillian Clark is preparing a new translation.

180 Conclusion most easily adapted Hellenistic ideals to Christian norms. The act of adaptation functioned as both symptom and cause: symptom of the general atmosphere of intersecting ideologies, and cause of the newly ordered identities that evolved. Nonmonastic, that is involuntary poverty was one of the identities that took new shape in this formative discourse. While others have examined the role of civic and religious power in this evolution in great detail, I have attempted here to focus more narrowly on several themes that seem most operative in the theological reformation of classical ideals: leitourgia and the gift economy, paideia and power dynamics, and, in a very limited and perhaps at best preliminary way, these bishops' definitions of an emerging theology of incarnation as it relates to their constructed meanings of the poor body. For all three authors, the poor begin to enter the text through their identity as created beings, members of the natural world. They share in the inherent value of the earth and all creation. They participate in the common graces of God's general goodness and generosity as manifested in the weather and the natural agricultural cycle. Thus the poor, who were historically invisible in the leitourgia of the classical world, become visible in the Christian texts by first being located in God's creation order. They enter the civic liturgies, however, only as the rich are willing to corrector at least address — civic injustices. While this is a major theme in all three authors, Basil focuses most on the need for devictimization, communal reform, and redistribution of material goods. The Gregories most explicitly define these injustices in theological terms of entitlement and "human rights." The poor who thus enter the civic realm are then textually elevated into the religious liturgy, that is, Christian practice in service and worship. This occurs through the medium of material relief as the "rich" actively identify themselves with penitential texts and identify the poor with the divine body, by practicing almsgiving as a redemptive gift exchange laden with intangible eschatological power, and by asserting the therapeutic function of this contact in the reformation of cosmic order. The texts reveal clear individual distinctions between the three homilists. Basil is chiefly concerned with the civic disorder of economic poverty, advising a social redistribution and (material) equality. For Basil, the poor are members of society who ought to be functioning within civic life but have lost their place in it through injustices, particularly greed, debt, and starvation. They are the generic poor, the penetes. Gregory of Nazianzus recognizes the importance of civic order but centers rather on ecclesial images. Gregory of Nyssa also shares Basil's concern for civic ideals but argues them in terms of philosophy and cosmic image. Both Gregories emphasize the role and imagery of the gift in exchanges with the poor who are, in their texts, the ptochoi, the sick whose poverty is consuming their own bodies and exiling them from healthy society. All three use very similar phrases, and often identical examples, to castigate the rich for greed and sin. All three use images of the natural world, the divine identity of human beings, social obligations, and eschatological judgment to draw the poor into community and church liturgy. All three authors in some way construct the poor body using emerging Christian images of incarnation. It is here that religion influences content as much as do power dynamics. Of the three men, it is Basil who seems least concerned with the implications, for the poor, of his own incarnation theology. He argues that the just patron ought to imitate God, but the enfleshment of this divine attribute is not part

Conclusion 181 of the argument, and Basil does not regard the poor as Christ, at least not overtly in these sermons. Nonetheless, he does strongly affirm that the poor body has theological value. This is particularly evident in Homily 8. Nazianzen uses the image of incarnation overtly, in repeated references to the destitute poor as Christ. Yet this image goes beyond the simple equation, and its power rests in the location of the image: within the religious community of church members, albeit church members operating by this time as law-abiding citizens of the earthly empire. Here incarnation images operate more indirectly as Gregory appeals for philoptochias on the basis of deification as he understands it. Acts of mercy to the poor, in imitating God's nature, serve in that theological process by which the faithful Christian gradually attains participation in God's nature. This is not incarnation in the sense of Christ becoming human. Rather, it is that journey by which the human person travels into the incarnate Christ. For Gregory of Nyssa, this journey is cosmic, a journey into the resolved (but not dissolved) fabric of the unity by which all things hold together. The literal details of Christ's incarnation, as they related to the Greeks' objections about mutability, are an important aspect of Nyssen's development of this general theme. This is seen particularly clearly in his Oratio catechetica magna and especially in his discussion there of the power of the eucharist to save the physical body. Finally, although the poor are clearly identified with Christ, does it matter whether that christologic body is Arian or Nicene? None of these texts on the poor are neat theological treatises; rather, they are pastorally rhetorical responses to social crises. Nonetheless, this elevated view of the poor as they relate to a transcendent and incarnate deity in the Cappadocian texts is different from implications that logically attend Eunomius's Arian view of Christ, at least as the Cappadocians understood that view, as one in which the Son differed from the Father in hypostasis and substance precisely because of the Son's generate nature. A "Eunomian" identification of the poor with Christ would most logically, in theory at least, maintain a certain unbroachable divide between generate (be it Christ or poor) and transcendent. None of the three Cappadocians recognizes any such barrier. The religious power of the poor in fact rests on the belief that they hold a direct line of access to the highest realm of deity; their generate nature in no way limits this access and is in fact one of its most characteristic features. Thus the power of the poor in these texts depends—perhaps only implicitly —on the "Nicene" view of incarnate deity as Basil and the Gregories argued for it against Eunomius. This does not imply any existential superiority of this view; it is simply the theological implication for a particular construction. That is, the Cappadocian view of incarnation bore a particular pattern for describing the poor which an "Arian" argument for a relationship between the poor and the transcendent might nuance differently. Their practices may not have differed in substance, but their criteria for defending these practices would be based on different concepts of divine incarnation. Nor am I suggesting that the Cappadocians treated the poor better, with more dignity, respect, or charity than did the Neo-Arians: ideology and practice rarely connect so neatly. Basil demanded that his audience feed the poor with the last loaf in the house, if necessary, but Gregory suggests to Amphilochius that Basil was not the best companion when he was hungry himself.

182

Conclusion

In conclusion, by the action that is speech, Basil and the two Gregories construct a dynamic image of involuntary poverty and the individual poor. Many of the themes in these texts seem universal, common in much religious dialogue on social issues and not necessarily particular to Christianity. Yet these sermons accomplish a number of goals that had not been targeted before in the same way. Operating in the era very shortly after Julian, but before Theodosius's policies of pan-Christianization, these texts do not presume a permanent Christian society. The memory of Julian's repression, particularly his repression of Christian paideia and power, would have magnified any new political uncertainty and encouraged a determined trend to ensure that it never happened again. This uncertainty may lie beneath the three bishops' determination to grasp hold of the full classical tradition and by it form that Christian society which they cannot take for granted. Other scholars have explored the way bishops in late antiquity used the poor to gain social power in this context. In the present study I have explored the social, physical, and religious body of the poor being used. Through their rhetoric in these sermons, Basil and the Gregories give meaning to the poor by placing them within the liturgical concepts of emerging Christian culture. Building their construct of the poor on patronage ideals and an economics ruled by gift exchange, operating with the rhetorical finesse of the ideal citizen trained in paideia, the sermons weave together an image that is at its most basic essence a theological identity, a human person whose significance is rooted in an incarnate connection to eschatological images of society and suffering. This interweaving of social and theological images forms a durable fabric out of many ancient and varied threads. It is not the thread nor the fabric that is new, but the pattern of the weave and the resulting design, one that proved very durable indeed to subsequent Christian tradition.

Appendix Three Sermons

E

nglish translations exist for some of the key Cappadocian texts on poverty; these are cited in the bibliography. Three hitherto untranslated sermons that relate directly to the body of the poor as it is explored in this study are given here. A. Basil, "In Time of Famine and Drought" B. Gregory of Nyssa, "On the Love of the Poor" i: "On Good Works" C. Gregory of Nyssa, "On the Love of the Poor" 2: "On the Saying, 'Whoever Has Done It to One of These Has Done It to Me'" Basil's sermon "In Time of Famine and Drought" (Homilia dicta tempore famis etsiccitatis = Horn. 8; CPG 2852) is translated from PG 31.303-328; a critical edition is wanting and this text must be regarded as provisional. My rendering of Gregory of Nyssa's two sermons, de Pauperibus amandis i (PG 46.453-70) and 2 (PG 46.471-90) (CPG 3196), is based on van Heck's critical edition (GNO 9.1:93-127), which includes the subtitles given here. The chapter divisions in Basil's text follow the manuscripts; Gregory's sermons contain no chapter divisions. Paragraph breaks unassociated with numbers are my own. Because of the flexible nuances of terms used to designate "poverty" and the "poor," discussed in the text, and because these translations are intended for a broad audience of general readers, I have translated both penes and ptochos as "poor" without distinguishing which word is used in which instance. As a general rule, the English word poor is used only for these two Greek terms.

A. Basil of Caesarea In Time of Famine and Drought [Tempore famis et siccitatis] [3040] i. "The lion roared, and who will not fear? The Lord God spoke, and who will not prophesy?" (Amos 3:8). Let us have an oracular prooemium for the oration, and let us take up the divinely inspired Amos as a coworker in the task set before us; it was he who applied remedies to the same evil disturbances that are hap183

184 Appendix pening to us feo^A], and who gave both counsel and judgment on those things that are profitable. For the prophet himself became a herald of repentance in former times when the people were abandoning their ancestral piety and trampling on scrupulous conformity with the laws, training themselves in the service of idols, by advising them to reverse their course and by confronting them with the threat of punishment. Thus I pray, may it be permitted to me to demand the same zeal as that of the ancient accounts. Let their fate not be ours as well. For the people gave in easily to temptations, not drawn to that which is profitable but instead acting like some stubborn and ungovernable foal with its bridle in its teeth. Turning away from the straight road and running lawlessly, it snorted at the one who held the reins until, by falling into pits and trenches, it [3058] justly suffered the utter destruction of those who are self-willed. Oh, let that not be true now with you, children, you who were born to me through the gospel, who were swaddled with the blessing of my hands. But listen prudently, as an obedient soul, receiving advice gently, yielding to what is said as wax receives a seal, so that by our shared zeal I might myself receive delightful fruit by means of this labor, and that you might applaud this address in the day of deliverance from the present suffering. What, then, is this oration about, this proclamation you are hoping to hear?1 2. We see the sky, brothers, shut up, naked, and cloudless, this clarity so pure it causes gloom and grief [3050], although in the past we desired it, when clouds overshadowed us in sunless gloom. Now the fields are little more than withered clods, unpleasant, sterile, and unfruitful, cracked and pierced to the depths by the hot sun. The rich and flowing streams have fled away and the torrential paths of the great rivers are exhausted. Little children walk in them, and women cross them, laden with bundles. Many of our wells have dried up and we lack the basic necessities of life; we are new Israelites seeking a new Moses and his marvelous, effective rod in order that stones, feoSA] being struck, might supply the needs of a thirsting people and clouds might drop down manna, that strange food. So beware. Let us not become a new narrative of famine and judgment to those who follow after us. I was looking at the fields, and at the many people weeping over their fruitlessness, and I too poured out lamentation because no showers were pouring out upon us. The sown seed was parched in the ploughed furrows. What was peeping out and sprouting was miserably withered by the heat. In fact, some people are circumstantially inverting the gospel passage, saying, "The laborers are many and there is little harvest." The farmers, kneeling heavily in the fields and gripping their knees with their hands (this indeed is the [3088] outward appearance of those who lament), weep over their vain toil, looking toward their young children and crying, gazing at their lamenting wives and wailing, stroking and, like a blind man, groping for their parched produce, wailing greatly like fathers losing their sons in the flower of manhood. Let the prophet — remember the introduction a few moments ago — now speak to us: "And I," he said, "held back the showers for your three months before the har-

i. Or, "Why, you ask, is the sermon hastening on so slowly?"

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185

vest, and I shall rain upon one city and I shall not rain upon another city, and one part will be drenched and one part, upon which I shall not rain, will dry up; and two or three cities will be gathered in one to drink water, and they will not be filled because you did not turn [3080] unto me, says the Lord" (Amos 4:7-8). We have learned that God sent us these calamities as a consequence of our turning away and indifference, not to trip us up but eager to make us upright in the same way that good fathers treat children who are careless; although angry at them and distancing themselves from them, they do not intend any harm but rather are eager to draw them out of childish negligence and youthful sins into diligence. Look, now, at how the multitude of our sins has caused unnatural seasons, and traded the proper forms for strange combinations indeed. The winter was dry with no moisture; everything froze and dried out, since there were neither snowflakes nor showers. The spring gave us the other extreme, feoSD] — the heat, I mean —but again without rain. Feverish heat and icy cold, unforeseen, exceeded the boundaries of creation and conspired with evil to do us damage, to drive people from life l^ogA] and livelihood. Indeed, what now is the cause of the disorder and the strange conjunctions? 2 Why this strange new manifestation of the seasons? We have a mind; let us inquire; we are rational beings; let us reason. Is there not a captain of all things? Did God, the sovereign craftsman, forget the created order? Was He robbed of power and authority? Or perhaps He holds fast His power but does not discharge His authority; or was He persuaded to hardness, altering His excessive goodness and concern as our guardian, to turn it into misanthropy? No wise person would say such things. However, our uncontrolled and culpable behavior is manifestly obvious: seizing on behalf of others, we do not share; we commend good works3 yet withhold them from those who are without. We are freed slaves, yet we do not have pity on our fellow slaves. [3096] We are nourished when hungry, yet we rush by the one in need. In want of nothing, having God as our treasurer and the one who defrays the costs, we become skinflints and asocial4 in relation to the poor. Our sheep multiply, yet the naked outnumber them. The storehouses are crowded with narrow corridors with abundant reserves, yet we have no mercy on those who mourn. 5 For this cause the righteous tribunal threatens us. For this cause also, God will not open his hand, because we ourselves shut out brotherly love. For this cause, the farmlands are dry: because love has fled. 3. The voice of those making supplication cries out vainly, the sound scattering to the winds; for we have not listened to those who ask our help. And where is our prayer and entreaty? [3090] O men, except for a few, you devote yourselves to market

2. Lit., "confusion," avjyjcucTK;, but implying disordered mixtures. 3. eiiepyeoia. 4. aKoivarrriTOi;; the same word is used in church discipline for "excommunicate"; here, the communal distance is a deliberate choice of the miser, and Basil's use of the word here seems to imply that in ignoring the poor the rich person is excommunicating himself (or herself), not the poor person, from community life. He uses the same word again with the same meaning in 8.7 [3246]. 5. ecnevoonevov; it is difficult to illustrate Basil's word plays in many of these parallel images. Here he is punning on crteiva) (straighten, narrow, confine) and atevra (grieve, mourn).

i86

Appendix

profit; you women collude with them in their materialism. Few remain at prayer with me, and these are distracted, yawning, constantly looking around and waiting for the cantor to finish the psalms, so they will be dismissed, as if from prison, from the church, and the required prayer. Even these smallest children, dismissed from their writing tablets at school and crying out along with us, share in our occupation as if it is a fun game; they make our grief into a holiday, since they are freed from the burden of their teacher and from the cares of their school subjects for a while. Most of the adult men, a pleasure-seeking crowd, course through the city, easy, free and loud; [3090] they carry the cause of our troubles in their souls and have contrived and worked for our disaster. Newborn infants without understanding or fault are being brought here in numbers for confession, even though they have no grounds for grieving, feizA] nor the knowledge nor ability to pray in the normal way. Come forth publically yourselves, I say, you who are defiled with sin; come forth falling on your knees, weeping, and groaning. Let the infant do what is proper to its own age! Why are you, the accused, hiding yourself as you push forward one who is not even under suspicion, to make amends? Surely the judge will not be kidded by6 the fact that you are introducing some substitute person to him? It would be right, in fact, for [the infant] to appear along with you — but not alone, by itself! The Ninevites, weeping unto God with regret and lamenting those sins that Jonah — after the sea and the whale — decried, did not present newborns alone for repentance, while the adults went on with their licentious lives, making merry; rather, you see how fasting subdued the sinful fathers first and punishment was meted out on the fathers. [3126] Most likely the (Ninevite) infant lamented as well, so that sadness might rule through every age, both sensible and insensible, according to choice and according to necessity. And God, seeing them thus humbled, as though condemning themselves to every kind of overwhelming pain, healed their passion and remitted their punishment, restoring to wholeness those who mourned properly with perception. O melodious repentance! O wise and prudent affliction! Not only did God allow irrational things to suffer that were exempt from punishment, but even those things constructed to cry out by necessity. For the sprout was withdrawn from the ox (Jonah 3:7-8), the young ram was driven away from the maternal breast, the nursing child was not in its mother's arms, but the mothers were in their own places and the children in theirs, [3120] while mournful voices from all cried in response and reechoed to one another. Starving children sought milk; mothers, torn apart with natural emotion, called to their offspring with sympathetic voices. Those being born, likewise starving, burst into the world and thrashed with the most vehement wailing, their mothers pierced to the marrow with natural grief. And by their repentance, as all were instructed together, the divine Word counted them saved. The old person lamented, tore out and scattered his grey hair. The youth and [313A] the one in his prime, being more impetuous, bitterly lamented even more vehemently. The poor moaned; the wealthy, forgetting luxury, balanced distress with self-control. The king

6. itcti^exai: the allusion to childish behavior seems an intended pun.

Appendix

187

transformed his splendor and glory into shame. He put aside the crown and covered his head with ashes; his purple robes discarded, he changed into sackcloth. The elevated throne was put aside and the wretch crawled to the earth. Forsaking the privilege of royal pleasures, he lamented together with the people; he became one with the many, because he saw the common lord of all enraged. 4. This is the right response for those who serve. This is repentance for those alienated by sin. Yet we sin much and repent carelessly and slothfully. Who in his [3136] prayer is pouring out tears to grasp a thunderstorm and seasonable rain? Who, to wipe out sin, imitates the blessed David, who waters his bed with lamentations? Who washes guests' feet, washing off the dust of the journey, so that in time he might importune God, seeking deliverance from drought? Who nourishes the fatherless child so that God might nurture for us the orphaned grain that is oppressed by the impotence of the winds? Who provides for a widow who is distressed by life's difficulties, so that the necessary food might be distributed? Destroy the unjust account books, that sin might be dissolved. Wipe out the oppressive contract of usury that earth might bear appropriately. For when copper, gold, and inert substances multiply contrary to nature, then that which is naturally fecund becomes barren, condemned to fruitlessness, as vengeance on the established practices. [3130] God is right to be angry, though he is delaying punishment for the fullness of time, since those who practice greed and who gather excessive wealth are now making the most of this power in what they have stored away. Those stockpiling gold quickly become pale like it, pale as the bread that they held in disdain until yesterday or the day before, since until then it had been easy to obtain. Give, therefore; don't market it or keep the grain in the storehouses. Tell me, what good are heavy purses? Will you not be buried with those? Is not gold a thing of the earth? Will not useless clay rest alongside corporeal clay? You gathered it and still you lack one thing: the power to feed yourself. You and all your wealth will share one death; contrive a way of transporting7 a few grains; [p^D] persuade the earth to bear fruit; effect liberation from the calamity by using the arrogance and swagger of wealth. Perhaps you will ask help from some of the pious, the prayers of someone like Elijah the Tishbite, who might generously grant you remission from your fears: some man without property, pale,8 barefoot, homeless, without hearth, impoverished, covered with a single cloak, as Elijah fei6A] was with the sheepskin, like him a man of prayer and self-control. And if you should attain the needed support of such a one, would you not permanently deride the burden of possessions? Spit on the gold? Fling out the silver as refuse, that which you once considered your most beloved treasure but discovered to be a feeble aid in time of need? Because of you God sen-

7. jropoi;: "achieving a passage through," "obtaining resources," "a ferry or path of the sea"; here the sense implies that giving wealth as alms is the only way to "take it with you" to the afterlife. 8. Lit., "yellow;" Basil seems here to be broadly pointing to himself, inviting the congregation to let him take care of them if they will give him charge of their stockpiled wealth. References to his poor health sometimes allude to his liver, so that possibly he bore a slightly jaundiced appearance, and Gregory of Nyssa (Laud. Bas. 17) calls Basil "our Elijah" on account of his famine relief.

i88

Appendix

tenced this calamity: having, you did not give; rushing past the hungry, you did not turn to those who were wailing; to those lying prostrate, you had no mercy. Evil afflicts a whole land9 on account of only a few; a land is destroyed by the wickedness of some. Achar committed sacrilege and the whole battle array was whipped (Josh. 7:19-25) Zambri fornicated with the Midianites, and Israel fell into judgment (Num. 25:6-15). [3166] 5. Let us examine our lives, therefore, both as individuals and as a community; let us attend to the drought as we would to a teacher, each recalling his own sins. Let us submit to the voice of the noble Job: "It is the hand of the Lord that touched me" (Job 19:21). And we especially consider it reasonable when calamity visits those who sin. Yet, one must add, such misfortunes of life by trial also produce spiritual maturity,10 that both poor and rich may be tried by difficulties, and each is rigorously tested by patient endurance. Such trials prove, especially in times like this, whether the afflicted one is philanthropic, aware of community identity, thankful, [3160] not blaspheming the reversal by letting life's turbulence turn their thinking upside-down. I myself have seen many (not by hearsay but actually knowing the men) who, on the one hand, while life proceeds for them from prosperity to wealth, as the saying goes, and circumstances go along moderately, if not perfectly, confess thanks to the benefactor. But then they become ingrates as soon as circumstances turn for the worse, and the rich man becomes poor, and the strong body ill, the glory and the splendor become shame and dishonor. They blaspheme aloud, hesitate to pray, inveigh God bitterly as if He is an intransigient debtor rather than the irritated master. Let such thoughts be abolished! When you see that God is not freely bestowing on you your usual benefits, you say to yourself, [3160] "Is God powerless to supply food?" How is this? For He is Lord of heaven and of all that is set in order, a wise steward of times ^i/AJ and seasons, governor over all, appointing certain seasons and solstices to withdraw from one another like a well-ordered dance, to supply our necessities by this very diversity. According to the season He brings moisture, then He appoints heat, then cold, and that we should not entirely lack a period when it is dry. Thus God is able, offering and administering his power. Is He then without goodness? But this argument also does not hold up. For what purpose, if not for good, persuaded Him to create humankind in the beginning? What impelled the Creator, if He was unwilling, to take up earth and to form such a thing of beauty out of mud? What necessity persuaded the Logos to show favor to humankind according to His own image, so that having thus begun, He might demonstrate the arts [3178] and that He might teach humankind to philosophically consider the highest things, especially those not perceived by the senses? Even by this reasoning God's supreme goodness is not lacking in our present circumstance. After all, has He not prevented the drought we see from turning into the final conflagration? And is not the sun, running a little off course as it approaches the earthly bodies, nonetheless restrained from burning up everything visible in a moment? Or does fire rain down from heaven as on chastised sinners?

9. 8iino<;.

10. Lit., "spiritual men."

Appendix

189

0 man, get a grip on yourself and your reasoning: Do not behave like irrational children, who break the writing tablets when the teacher finds fault with them, pull to pieces the garments of the father who nourishes them, [^ijC] or tear at their mother's face with their fingernails. For the storm tries and torturously tests the captain, the stadium the athlete, the battle array the general, calamity the one who is large in soul, temptation the Christian. Distresses reveal the soul as fire does gold. Are you poor? Do not despair. For dejection may cause sin, either as outrage washes over the mind and hardship causes vertigo, or, on the other hand, as wandering reasoning may develop into ingratitude. Rather, hope in God. For does He not see your lamentations? He holds food in his hands and delays giving it, so that He might test your steadfastness, that He might discern whether your judgment is like that of the unbridled and senseless, those who praise, flatter, and immodestly admire God when there is bread in their bellies; when [^ijD] supplies are low, this sort of person, who a little earlier worshiped God on account of pleasure, throws blasphemies at Him like stones. Consider the Old and New Testaments. In each you will find many nourished in a variety of ways. There was Elijah on Carmel, the lofty and uninhabited mountain. He was the solitary eremite whose soul fezoA] hoped in God for both justice and provisions for survival. Living thus he did not die of starvation; in fact the most rapacious and voracious of the birds delivered bread to him, becoming ministers of food to the righteous. By the Lord's commandment, the birds' nature was changed, they who greedily snatch up other foods now faithfully carrying loaves and necessary supplies. We learned in the scripture of these ravens who carried food to the man. The Babylonian pit held the young Israelite in calamitous captivity but free in soul and mind: what then of him? In this story, the lions fasted contrary to nature, while he who nourished (lit., the tropheias), Habakkuk, was carried through the air, the angel carrying the man along with the stew (Dan. 14:33-39). The prophet was transported all the way across earth and sea in an instant, from Judaea to Babylonia, so that the righteous might not be distressed by hunger. 6. Again, then, what of the desert people whom Moses governed? How did they survive for forty years? No one was sowing. No oxen dragged the plough; there was no threshing floor, no trough, no storehouse; yet they had food without sowing or tilling, and a stone provided fountains of water that had not formerly existed, bursting forth to meet the need. 1 will refrain from recounting each example of God's foreknowledge, which He often manifests in a fatherly way to humankind. But you, be strong a little in the catastrophe, following the noble Job's example, and do not change direction on account of the waves, neither cast off those readily portable virtues that you carry with you. As costly capital, preserve thanksgiving in your soul. I say to you: cling twice as tenaciously to thanksgiving as you do to luxury. Remember the apostolic saying, "In everything give thanks." Are you poor? There is someone much poorer than you. You have enough bread for ten days; another has enough for one. As a good and kindhearted person, make your surplus equal by distributing it to the needy. Do not shrink from giving of the little you have; do not treat your own calamity as if it is worse than the common suf-

190 Appendix fering. 1 ' Even if you possess only one loaf of bread, and the beggar stands at the door, bring the one loaf out of the storeroom and, presenting it to the hands lifted up toward heaven, offer this merciful and considerate prayer: One loaf which you see, O Lord, and the problem is evident, but as for me, I prefer your commandment to myself fjzoD] and I give of the little I have to the starving brother; for You also give to Your servant in trouble. I know Your great goodness and I also confidently believe in Your power, for You do not defer Your grace for another time, but disperse Your gifts when You wish.

And if you were to speak and act in this way, the bread that you should give out of your scarcity would become seed for planting; it would bear rich fruit, a pledge12 of sustenance, a patron of mercy. Say l^ziA] to yourself what the widow of Sidon said in a similar situation —remember the story—"As the Lord lives, I have only this in my house to feed my children and myself" (i Kings 17:12). And if you should give out of your own deprivation, you too would have the vessel of oil abounding with grace, the never-emptying pot of flour. For God's lavish grace on the faithful is exactly like that of the ever-emptying, ever-full, twice-giving vessels of oil. O poor one, lend to the rich God. Believe in the one who is at all times taking up the cause of the afflicted in his own person and supplying grace from his own stores. Trustworthy guarantor, he has vast treasuries all over the earth and sea. In fact, even if you were to demand back the loan in the middle of the ocean, you would be guaranteed to receive the capital with interest. For in his generosity, he loves honor. [3216] 7. Starvation, the distress of the famished, is the supreme human calamity, a more miserable end than all other deaths. For when one considers other lifethreatening calamities, the sword brings a quick end; fire too extinguishes life quickly; and even wild beasts, tearing the limbs apart with their teeth, inflict fatal wounds which assure that the distress will not be prolonged. But famine is a slow evil, always approaching, always holding off like a beast in its den. The heat of the body cools. The form shrivels. Little by little strength diminishes. Flesh stretches across the bones like a spider web. The skin loses its bloom, as the rosy appearance fades [$2iC] and blood melts away. Nor is the skin white, but rather it withers into black while the livid body, suffering pitifully, manifests a dark and pale mottling. The knees no longer support the body but drag themselves by force, the voice is powerless, the eyes are sunken as if in a casket, like dried-up nuts in their shells; the empty belly collapses, conforming itself to the shape of the backbone without any natural elasticity of the bowels. The person who rushes by such a body, how greatly worthy is he of chastisement? What excess of cruelty will he allow? Should he not be reckoned with the savagery of the beasts, accursed and a homicide? Whoever has it in his power to alleviate this evil [%2iD] but deliberately opts instead for profit, should be condemned as a murderer. The agony of hunger has constrained many even to fez^A] violate the limits of nature, in one case a man feeding on the bodies of his very race, in another a mother

11. Or "in the face of public peril, do not be preferential to your personal misfortune." 12. Lit., "earnest money," a collateral deposit.

Appendix

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on her child, who came forth from her stomach only to be dreadfully conceived again by the stomach. This drama is recorded in the Jewish history, the tragedy diligently chronicled in Josephus,13 when such an event seized the Jerusalemites who paid the righteous penalty for impiety toward the Lord. You see him, even our very God, often disregarding many other misfortunes but sympathetically having pity on those who hunger. For "I have pity," he said, "on the rabble" (Matt. 15:32). Even in the last judgment, to which the Lord will call the just, those who give freely will hold the first rank; the one who nourishes will stand first in honor,14 the supplier of bread will be called before everyone else; the kind and [3246] bountiful will be escorted to life before all the other righteous. The one who distances himself from the community and is asocial15 and stingy will be handed over to the fire before all [other] sinners. The present season thus summons you to the mother of all commandments: take great care that the age of festival and covenant should not pass you by. For time flows on and does not wait for those who loiter; the days hasten on; they pass by the one who hesitates. As the current of a river does not stand still even if no one ever comes to it, tests it, and puts the water to use, so also time cannot stop its compulsory circuits as it goes forward, nor is it able to reverse its course if someone does not seize an opportunity. Seize, therefore, and fulfill the commandment as you would take hold of a fugitive, securing it from all sides with grasping hands and encircling arms. [3240] Give a little and gain much; destroy the original sin by freely distributing food. For as sin came through Adam's evil act of eating, so we ourselves blot out his treacherous consumption if we remedy the need and hunger of a brother. 8. People: listen! Christians: hearken! Thus says the Lord, not haranguing the people with his own voice [325AJ but resonating through the mouths of His servants as through a musical instrument: Let us who are rational not seem more savage than those without reason, for they share the natural products of the earth. Flocks of sheep pasture on the same mountain and multitudes of horses graze on the same plain, each permitting the others all the natural enjoyment of the necessities. But we lock up what is common; we keep for ourselves the things that belong to everyone. That which the Hellenes call philanthropy puts us to shame! Among some of them the law of philanthropy16 is fulfilled by a large community sharing one table, common bread, and one hearth. Let us not have the example of outsiders, but look at the example of the three thousand (Acts 2:44-45). Emulate the first constitution of the Christians, [3256] how they had all things in common: life, soul, concord, common table, undivided brotherhood, love without dissimulation, many working to one end, many souls agreeing in harmony. You have many examples of brotherly love in the Old and New Testaments. Should you see an old man hungering, distribute freely and feed him, as Joseph fed

13. 14. 15. 16.

Josephus, B/ 7.8. ipo<|>e\)i; jipo)to0TO!Tr|c;. ciKOivovTnxx;, the same word used in church discipline for "excommunicate." v6|io<; (|)iXdv6pco7iO(;.

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Jacob. Should you find an enemy in narrow straits, do not avenge yourself with hidden wrath, but feed him, as Joseph fed his betraying brothers. Should you meet with a suffering youth, lament as he lamented Benjamin, the son of the old man. Perhaps avarice tempts you, as the mistress tempted Joseph; it grabs you by the garments so that you scorn the commandment and [3256] prefer the love of gold and love of the world to the edict of the Master. When a thought should come warring with that commandment, urging the sound mind to love money, constraining you to neglect philanthropy and restraint, throw off your garments as well: being enraged, flee. Keep faith with the Lord, as Joseph kept faith with Potiphar; manage for one year as he did for seven. Do not give everything you have to your pleasure, but give also something to the soul. Recognize that you have two daughters: present prosperity and life in heaven. If you do not wish to give everything to the greater one, at least divide it equally between the unbridled and the self-controlled child. [3250] Do not show off the former by a luxurious way of life and display the other as naked and clothed with rags; for when it should be necessary for you to stand before Christ and to come before the judge's eyes, it is the life of virtue that receives the wedding garment and the invitation. Do not, therefore, present the bride deformed and unadorned to the bridegroom [328AJ lest, after beholding her, he should turn his face away, that seeing her he should hate her and deny the union. Rather, dress her appropriately. Keep her beautiful for the appointed wedding so that she might also light her lamp with the wise virgins, having the inextinguishable fire of knowledge, not lacking the oil of right action, so that the inspired prophecy might be confirmed by works, and your own soul will manifest the saying, "At thy right hand stood the queen, arrayed in a vesture of woven gold, adorned with varied colors. Hearken, O daughter, and see, and incline thine ear: and the king will desire your beauty" (Ps. 45:10-11). For the Psalmist pointed to those things having to do with reproduction, publically proclaiming the youthful prime of the generative body, [3286] but it is also an image of each soul, that is, if indeed the Church community supports each soul. 9. Think reasonably about that which is and that which shall come, and what you might lose through shameful profit. Your body, the thing by which you recognize life, will desert you. Although you will have arrived in the revealed presence of the expected judge, you will have shut yourself off from the gift of the honors and the heavenly glory; instead of a long and happy life, you will be opening the everburning fire, Gehenna, punishments, and bitter things in eternal agony. Do not dismiss me as if I am like a mother or nurse, frightening you with some imaginative monster as they often do to very young children: when they weep endlessly and without control, they silence them with false stories. These are no fables but an oration proclaimed with the voice of truth. Know too, truly, according to the public proclamation of the Gospel, that no jot or tittle will pass away. Even the body hidden in the coffin will rise, and the soul cut off by death will again dwell in the body, and sharp scrutiny of life's events will come into one's head, [no one else] testifying. The soul herself will testify from the conscience. May it be measured out to each according to his worth by the Righteous Judge to whom is due glory, strength, and worship unto the ages of ages. Amen.

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B. Gregory of Nyssa On the Love of the Poor: i "On Good Works" [De beneficentia] [453] The president of this church and the ones who teach us perfect piety and the ways of virtue have much in common with the grammarians and primary teachers. When they receive children from their parents, while yet as lisping infants, they do not introduce them to advanced studies but begin by tracing "alpha" in wax, and then the rest of the alphabet; the teacher instructs them on the names of the letters and makes them practice tracing outlines of the letter with their hand. He moves on next to the study of syllables and the pronunciation of words. In the same way, the leaders of the Church begin by teaching the faithful the rudiments of knowledge and only later treating the more advanced concepts. Over the past two days, I denounced the pleasures of the mouth and the belly. Don't think that today, too, I am going to say the usual things: that it is a fine thing to spurn meat, to abstain from wine, that laughter-loving dionysiac, to moderate the zeal of your cooks and to hold back the weary hand of your cupbearers. I insisted on this point, and your behavior has proven to me that my counsel was not in vain. Since you have learned the elementary lesson, it is now worthwhile to take up next the greater and more mature17 teachings. There is an abstinence that is spiritual, and self-control that is immaterial: this is the renunciation of sin that turns toward the soul. It is on this account that abstinence from food was enjoined. Abstain now from evil. [456! Practice self-control in your appetite for other people's belongings! Renounce dishonest profits! Starve to death your greed for Mammon. Let there be nothing at your house that has been acquired by violence or theft. What good is it to keep meat out of your mouth if you bite your brother with wickedness? What good does it serve you to observe a strict frugality at home if you unjustly steal from the poor? What kind of piety teaches you to drink water while you hatch plots and drink the blood of a man you have shamefully cheated? Judas, after all, fasted along with the eleven, but failed to master his greed; his salvation gained nothing by fasting. And the devil does not eat, for he is an incorporeal spirit, but he fell from on high through wickedness. Likewise, none of the demons can be accused of gorging themselves, of excessive drinking or getting drunk, for their nature makes feeding unnecessary; nevertheless, night and day, they roam through the air, agents and servants of evil, eager for our loss. They ooze with bitterness and jealousy —things it is well to avoid —at the idea that humans may enter into an intimacy with God, since they have fallen from the supremely worthy dwelling. Accordingly, let the philosophic way be an instructive model for the Christian life, and let the soul flee from the damaging effect of evil. For if we abstain from wine and meat while clearly and publically yielding to sin, I guarantee and testify to you O

17. Lit., "more manly."

O

O

'

O

O

O

194 Appendix that the ascetic regime of water and vegetables has no good effect, if the internal disposition is incongruent with external appearance. Fasting was ordained for the soul's purification. If our thoughts and actions degrade it, why force ourselves to drink nothing but water, and why work this filthy quagmire? To what advantage is a fasting of the body if the spirit is not clean? It is no use if the chariot is well-built and the team of horses well disciplined, if the charioteer is insane. What good is a sound ship if the captain is drunk? Fasting is the very foundation of virtue, just as the foundations of a house and keel of a ship are useless and without value, however solidly laid, if the rest is not built with skill. All our austerity likewise does no good unless it nurtures other virtues and receives them as a companion. Let the fear of God teach the tongue to speak only with knowledge, not using idle phrases but only what is moderate and timely, words that are essential and to the point. Let us ponder our terms, not deafening our interlocutors with a verbal shower. This is why the fine membrane that holds the tongue to the lower jaw bears the name of a bridle, so that we might not speak totally at random. Speak praise, not insult: commend, do not blaspheme: bless and do not slander; thus the thought of God stops our heedless hand and holds it as if it were in bonds. This is why we fast, to commemorate the passion of our Lamb [457] who, before being nailed to the cross, submitted to insults and brutalities. Let us not imitate the conduct of Judas, we who are disciples of Christ. If we watch our ulterior motives, Isaiah will demand of us, "Why fast during the dispute and quarrel, while you are beating up the lowly with your fist?" (Isa. 58:4) This prophet also teaches us what makes up a pure and sincere fast: "Loose all chains of injustice, send free the oppressed, untie the bonds of forced indenture; share your bread with the hungry, lodge in your (own) house the poor who have no shelter" (Isa. 56:6-7). We have seen in these days a great number of the naked and homeless. For the most part they are victims of war who knock at our doors. But there is also no lack of strangers and exiles, and their hands, stretched out imploring, can be seen everywhere. Their roof is the sky. For shelter they use porticos, alleys, and the deserted corners of the town. They hide in the cracks of walls like owls. Their clothing consists of wretched rags. Their harvest depends on human pity. For meals they have only the alms tossed at them by those who pass by. For drink they use the springs, as do the animals. Their cup is the hollow of their hand, their storeroom their pocket, or rather whatever part of it has not been torn and cannot hold whatever has been put into it. For a dining table they use their joined knees, and their lamp is the sun. Instead of the public baths, they wash in the river or pond that God gives to all. This life of theirs, wandering and brutal, was not that assigned to them by birth but results from their tribulations and their miseries. Assist these people, you who practice abstinence. Be generous on behalf of your unfortunate brethren. That which you withhold from your belly, give to the poor. Let a fear of God level out the differences between you and them: with self-control, carefully avoid two contrary evils: your own gorging and the hunger of your brethren. This is how the physician works: he puts some on diets and gives supplementary foods to others, so that by additions and subtractions health can be managed in each individual case. So follow this salutary advice. Let reason open the doors of the rich. Let wise counsel lead the poor to the wealthy.

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But dialectic will hardly enrich those in such straits. Let the eternal word of God give also a house and a light and table, by means of the household of the Word. Speak to them with affection and alleviate their miseries with your own substance. In addition to these are the other poor,18 very ill and bedridden. Let everyone take care of his neighbors. Don't let someone else treat those in your neighborhood. Don't let another rob you of the treasure laid up for you. Embrace the wretched as gold: take into your arms [embrace] the afflicted as you would your own health, [as you would care for] the safety of your wife, your children, your domestics and all your house. [460] The sick who is poor is doubly poor.19 For the poor who are in good health go from door to door, approaching the homes of the rich or setting up camp at the crossroads and there hailing all who pass by. But those trampled by illness, shut up in their narrow rooms and narrow nooks, are only able, like Daniel in his cistern (Dan. 14:33-39), to wait for you, devout and charitable, as though for Habakkuk. Become a colleague of the prophet with your alms. Nourish those in need, immediately and without hesitating. The gift will not result in loss: don't be afraid. The fruits of merciful acts are abundant. Sow your benefactions and your house will be filled with a plentiful harvest. You will say, "I am poor; me too!" So it is! Nevertheless, give. Give what you have. God does not demand what is beyond your means. You give bread, someone else a cup of wine, another an outer garment; in this way, through a collective contribution, the misfortunes of one person are eased. Moses did not receive the offerings for the Tabernacle from a single benefactor,20 but all the people gave him contributions: the rich gave gold, others gave silver, the poor gave animal skins, and the most indigent joined together to offer goat-hair (Ex. 25:1-7). Do you remember how the widow's coin surpassed the liberality of the wealthy? (Luke 21:1-4). She emptied herself of all that she possessed. The rich, for their part, gave only a portion. Do not despise those who are stretched out on the ground as if they merit no respect. Consider who they are and you will discover their worth. They bear the countenance21 of our Savior. The Lord in His goodness has given them His own countenance in order that it might cause the hard-hearted, those who hate the poor,22 to blush with shame, just as those being robbed thrust before their attackers the images of their king 23 to shame the enemy with the appearance of the ruler. The poor are the stewards of our hope, doorkeepers of the kingdom, who open the door to the righteous and close it again to the unloving and misanthropists. These are vehement and good advocates. They defend and prosecute not by speaking, but by being seen by the judge. For the deed done to them cries out to the one who fathoms the heart in a voice clearer than the herald's trumpet.

18. Lit., "the other ptochoi," here moving into his discussion of the sick. The remainder of the treatise and most of the second treatise seems to concern these sick poor in particular. 19. Lit., "The sick penes is twice ptochos." 20. Xeiwupyoc;. 21. TIpOdOMIOV.

22. uioontcoxoi. 23. I.e., on coinage.

196 Appendix And it is on account of these that the terrifying judgment of God, which you have often heard, was described in the gospels. There I have seen24 the Son of man descend from the sky and walking in the air as one walks on earth, and thousands of angels escorting him. Then the throne of glory appeared in the sky, and the king sitting on it, and all the people who ever lived under the sun and breathed this air were separated into two [461] camps, and the multitude stood by the tribunal seat. One group, everyone on the right, were called the "sheep." I heard that those in the camp on the left were designated "goats." They deserved this epithet on account of their behavior. The judge interrogated the accused and I listened to their answers. Each received his due: to those who had lived an exemplary life, enjoyment of the kingdom [was granted]; to the misanthropists and wicked, [the judgment was] punishment by fire, and for all of eternity. The scripture tells this account with such care, and our court of justice has been painted so precisely for no other reason than to teach us the grace and the value of beneficence. 25 For this preserves our life, mother of the poor, teacher of the rich, good nurse, caretaker of the aged, treasury of those in need, universal haven of the unfortunate, who measures out her providential care to all ages and all calamities. As those who mount and preside at the games, the leader proclaims his love of honor by the sound of a trumpet and announces the prizes to all the competitors, and beneficence summons together those who have fallen on hard times and who are in critical circumstances, distributing to those who come forth not blows, but the healing of misfortunes. She is more exalted than every feat of prowess, assisting God, friend of the good man and in close fellowship with him. It is God Himself, who in the first instance manifests Himself to us as the author of good and philanthropic deeds: the creation of the earth, the arrangement of the heavens, the well-ordered rhythm of the seasons, the warmth of the sun, the formation, by cooling, of ice, in short, all things, individually, He created not for Himself—for He had no need of such things —but He maintains them continually on our behalf; invisible farmer of human nourishment, He sows at the opportune moment and waters the earth skillfully. He gives seed to the sower, as Isaiah says (Isa. 55:10), now sprinkling water from the clouds in a gentle shower, later flooding the furrows in a violent downpour. When the delicate buds sprout and green blades appear, He sets the sun over them which, now uncovered, extends its warm and fiery rays so that the ears of grain may become ripe for the harvest. He also causes the clusters on the vine to swell, and in the autumn distills His wine for the thirsty and fattens our various flocks that humankind may have abundant meat. The fleece of some supply us with wool, the skin of others provide us with shoes. You see, God is the original designer of good deeds, nourishing the starving, watering the thirsty, clothing those who are naked, as has been said earlier. [464]

24. Here and again in the opening lines of the second sermon, Gregory refers to the "vision" of the last judgment in Matthew 25 as if he is alluding to some literally visual, rather than textual image. It is very tempting to wonder if he might be referring to a scene actually painted on the church wall, one to which he could point and which listeners could study as he spoke. 25. eujcoua.

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And if you wish to know how He eases our sicknesses, hear this: the bee, from whom does she have the secret of wax and honey? Who causes the pine tree, the terebinth, or the mastic tree to produce tears of rosy resin? Who created the land of the Indies, the source of dry fruits and aromatics? Who has made oil to grow, that cures stiffness and bruises? Who has taught us to discern the roots and herbs and the understanding of their properties? Who established the art of healing, medicine? Who caused these thermal springs to gush from the veins of the earth, healing us with cold and hot, by loosening the things that are dry and have been constrained? Yes, we may aptly quote Baruch: "He searched out the entire path to knowledge and gave it to Jacob, his servant" (Baruch 3:36). For this reason we have arts that use fire and those that do not, others that use water and a myriad of practical inventions. And thus God, the founder of good works, provides for our needs with richness and kindness. But as for us, each letter of the Bible teaches us to imitate our Savior and creator—as much as mortal can try to imitate eternal —yet we monopolize all for our own pleasure in that we spend our fortune on pleasures, in that we accumulate it in capital for our heirs. We do not even give those in distress a single thought, nor do we have any effective concern for those in need. Implacable hardness! A man sees another wanting bread and without nourishment. Instead of promptly caring and reaching out to rescue him, he ignores him as he might a nourishing plant pitifully wilting from lack of water under a parching sun, while at this man's home there is great abundance with the power to relieve many. For as the flow from a single spring nourishes many open fields, the prosperity of a single house can save a crowd of the poor, provided only that the greed and selfishness of the master does not [become] like a rock that, falling into the current of a stream, hinders its flow. Let us not use everything for the flesh; let us live also for God. For the pleasures of the table assuage only a small part of our flesh, the throat; the food rots in the stomach and ends up in the sewer. Mercy and good deeds are works God loves; they divinize those who practice them and impress [or, stamp] them into the likeness of goodness, that [465] they may become the image of the Primordial Being, pure, who surpasses all intelligence. But what rewards are promised for our efforts? In this life a good hope, an eager expectation of joy. And in the next, when we will have abandoned this fragile flesh and be clothed with immortality, a blessed life, unchangeable and indestructible, prepared among wondrous and as yet unimaginable delights. Since you have been created with reason, and since you have been endowed with an intelligence that can interpret and inculcate the divine, don't be deceived by ephemeral things. Try to acquire riches that will never abandon their master. Moderate your life's needs. Don't retain everything for yourself, but share with the poor, who are the favorites of God. All belongs to God, our common father. And we are all brothers of the same race. It is best and more just that brothers reap an equal part of the heritage. But since in our imperfect order one or another always monopolizes the greater part of the heritage, at least let the others not be entirely frustrated. One man who wishes to retain all for himself and hinder his brothers from touching a third or even a fifth of the inheritance, this man is a brutal tyrant, an intractable barbarian, a craving beast, eagerly swallowing the whole meal himself, a beast far more ferocious than the entire animal kingdom. Even the wolf tolerates another wolf beside him as he eats, and dogs gather together to devour the same carcass. But such

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a man, always insatiable, refuses to share his wealth with his own kind. Content yourself with a modest table. Do not suffer shipwreck on the high seas of unbridled banquets, for this wreck is a grievous thing, not just being broken by submerged rocks, but rather being driven out into the shadowy abyss from which no one who falls in ever returns. Use; do not misuse; so, too, Paul teaches you. Find your rest in temperate relaxation. Do not indulge in a frenzy of pleasures. Don't make yourself a destroyer of absolutely all living things, whether they be four-footed and large or four-footed and small, birds, fish, exotic or common, a good bargain or expensive. The sweat of the hunter ought not to fill your stomach like a bottomless well that many men digging cannot fill. Our gourmands do not, in fact, even spare the bottom of the sea, nor do they limit themselves to the fish that swim in the water, but they also bring up the crawling marine beasts from the ocean bed and drag them to shore. One pillages the oyster banks, one pursues the sea urchin, one captures the creeping cuttle fish, one plucks the octopus from the rock it grips, one eradicates the mollusks from their pedestal. All animal species, those that swim in the surface waters or live in the depths of the sea, [468] all are thus brought up into the atmosphere. The artful skills of the hedonist cleverly devise traps appropriate to each. But what is the ultimate fate of gourmands? It is inevitable that sin, wherever it strikes, like a disease brings on its consequences. Hence those who prepare a delicate and sybaritic table are attracted necessarily to sumptuous dwellings and squander their goods on enormous houses and superfluous ornaments. They also like to rest on magnificent beds covered with flowery hangings, richly embroidered. They have massively expensive silver tables made for them; some are remarkable by the sheen of the metal; on others an artist engraves scenes and one is thus able, during the meal, to delight in beautiful legends. Think further of all the wine bowls, tripods, jars, ewers, platters, all sorts of cups; the clowns, mimes, kithara-players, chanters, poets, male and female musicians, dancers, and all of the equipment of debauchery, boys with effeminate coiffures, shameless girls, sisters to Herodias in their indecency; this is that Herodias who caused the death of John, that is to say, the death of godlike and philosophical intellect in everyone. While this is going on in the house, a myriad of Lazaruses sit at the gate, some dragging themselves along painfully, some with their eyes gouged out, others with amputated feet, some quite literally creep, mutilated in all their members.26 They cry and are not heard over the flutes' whistling, loud songs, and the cackling of bawling laughter. If they beg more loudly at the door, the porter of a barbarous master bounds out like a brute and drives them away with strokes of a stick, setting the dogs on them and lashing their ulcers with whipcord. Accordingly they retreat, the beloved of Christ, who embody the essential commandment without having gained one mouthful of bread or meat, but satiated with insults and blows. And in the den of Mammon, some vomit up their meal like an overflowing vessel; others sleep on the table, their wine cups beside them. Twofold is the sin that reigns in this house of shame: one is the excess of the drunkards, the other the hunger of the poor who have been driven away.

26. The first reference in these two sermons to the disease of "leprosy" and its biblical model.

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If God sees these scenes — and I am sure He does — what fatal catastrophe, do you think, does He hold in store for those who hate the poor? Answer me! Or do you not know that it is to this end that the holy gospel shouts out and testifies with scenes of horror and dread? And thus it describes the deep groaning of the man flung into the pit and held captive in the abyss of the wicked. Another [469] of the same type is condemned to a sudden death, such that he plans in the evening his next day's pleasure but does not live to see the first ray of dawn (Luke 16:19; 12;2°)- Let us not be mortal, fitful, and temporary, in our faith but immortal, boundless, and neverending in our pleasure. For this is the attitude we cling to, those of us who wish to pander to sensual gratification in everything as though we were rich men without heirs, as though we might be lords of earthly things forever. At harvesttime we worry about sowing and at seed-time we look forward to the joy of the harvest; we plant a plane tree in hopes of sheltering ourself beneath its shade; we bury the seed of the date palm in the wish of savoring its fruits. And often this comes about in our old age, when the late autumn of life has set in, when the winter of death is near, and there remain not a cycle of years but only three or four days. Let us be realistic, considering these things reasonably: our life is fleeting and flowing, and time cannot be stopped nor held back; it is like a river's current that sweeps everything in its path to final destruction. If only, short-lived and perishable as we are, we would not be called to render account. But such is exactly the peril that looms every hour: we will have to justify all to the incorruptible judge, even the words that we utter. This is why the blessed psalmist meditates on a similar thought and desires to know his own moment of death. He prays that God will tell him how many days he has left, in order to ready himself for his final hour, that he might not be caught unaware, like an unprepared traveler who must seek provisions while he is en route. "Lord," he cries, "Make me to know my end and the measure of my days that I may know in what way I am lacking. See, you have made my days a few handbreadths, and my lifetime is as nothing in your sight" (Ps. 90:5-6). Observe the conscientious prudence of this worthy soul, of royal rank though he was. For he perceives the king of kings and judge of judges as clearly as in a mirror, and he seeks to attain the perfect word of the commandments and to die as an intact and flawless citizen of the world to come. May it come to pass that we all attain it by the grace and philanthropy of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom belongs the glory forever. Amen.

C. Gregory of Nyssa On the Love of the Poor: 2 "On the saying, 'Whoever Has Done It to One of These Has Done It to Me'" [In illud: Quatenus uni ex his fecistis mihi fecistisj [472] Again I hold before my eyes the dreadful vision of the return of the kingdom; upset by this account, my soul is not yet able to dispel this mental anguish, as a certain scene is manifest, the king of heaven sitting, formidable, on the throne of glory as the gospel describes it —a magnificent throne, if that is what it is, on which is placed the one who has no place. Thousands of angels form a circle around the king;

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and he is a king great and fearsome, who, from the apex of his indescribable glory, inclines himself toward humanity, who I saw there assembling on foot —all the races that have lived from the beginning of humankind to this formidable day of the parousia — and meting out to all the penalty of their deeds. To those on the right, who lived rightly, he bestowed rewards. The reprobates, massed together on the left, were seen to be assigned the chastisement of their crimes; and he separated the one group from the other. He spoke to each; to one he spoke sweet and good words: "Come, you blessed of my father." And to the others this dreadful curse: "Be gone, evil ones, to eternal fire" (Matt. 25:31). This image impresses my soul with such fear that it seems to be coming to life, and no reality seems at all urgent, nor can my spirit take interest in any other topic of study or reflection except these words. And yet it is not a small [thing], nor worthy of merely a little attention:1 to know how He comes who is always present, who says, "For I am with you always." (Matt. 28:20) If He is with us, why does He announce His return as if He has been absent? If, [473] "in God we have life, movement and being,"27 according to the words of the apostle, it is impossible that the One who holds all in His hand can separate Himself in terms of place from that which He holds. How is He able to not be present to those whom He encompasses, or how is it possible to wait in the promise of His coming? What sort of throne is there for One who is bodiless? What is the limiting circumference of the throne of the One who is not limited to place?28 In all these thoughts I am running ahead of myself, as they are greater than our present concern with the end of time. Lest we be tossed out among the class of those condemned, we will do our best to use language by which each might derive profit. Certainly, my brothers, certainly this threat continues to terrify me. I do not deny my trouble and I greatly wish that you would no longer scorn my fears. "Blessed," says the wise man, "is the man always on guard. The one who hardens his heart falls into trouble" (Prov. 28:14). Insofar as the evil hour of grievous trial has not yet come, let us act wisely. And how to elude this threat? By choosing the way, alive and fresh, indicated in scripture. What is the way? "I was hungry, I was thirsty, I was a stranger, naked, sick, a prisoner. That which you have done to one single person, it is to me to whom you have done it. Come, then, blessed of my father" (Matt. 25:40). What does this teach us? That God's blessing follows from obeying his commandments. In transgressing them, one courts condemnation. Let us choose blessing and flee the curse. It is for us to seek out or not to seek out, one or the other. Let us throw ourselves with zeal into the path of God where we will live, blessed by the Lord who holds himself bound to the attentions that we render to the needy. The commandment is vital especially now, with so many in need of basic essentials for survival, and many constrained by need, and many whose bodies are utterly spent from suffering sickness. In caring for them, you will see for yourself the realization of the good news. I think

27. Acts 17:28. 28. The French adds the question, present in the Latin text but not in the Greek, "What is the expression of one who has no face?"

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above all of the victims of a terrible illness. The greater the attentions, the more vast the blessings that await the faithful servants of the commandment. But what ought we to do? Do not tear apart the unity of the Spirit, that is to say, do not consider as strangers those beings who partake of our nature; do not imitate the men who condemn the Gospel. I am talking about the priest and the Levite who passed by [476] on the road without the least compassion for the unfortunate man whom the robbers had come and left for dead. For if this sort is charged with not even discerning the brutal calamity of a naked body, how are we innocent — us — if we imitate these guilty ones? And indeed, the man who had been attacked by brigands presented a spectacle similar to the sight of those caught in suffering in these days. You see these people, whose frightful malady has changed them into beasts. In place of fingernails, the disease has caused them to bear pieces of wood on hands and feet. Strange impressions are left on our paths! Who recognizes there a human foot? These people who yesterday stood upright and looked at the sky are here, today, bending to the earth, walking on four feet, practically changed into animals; Listen to the rasping wheeze that comes from their chest. Thus it is that they breathe. But we assert that this condition is worse than that of animals. At least beasts preserve, in general, the appearance they had at birth until they die. None of them experiences the effects of such an avatar, so profound a reversal. With men all happens as if they change in nature, losing the traits of their species to be transformed into monsters. Their hands serve them as feet. Their knees become heels; their ankles and toes, if they are not completely eaten away, they drag miserably like the launch boat that drags the ships. You see a man and in him you have no respect for a brother? No, you do not pity a being of your own race; his affliction only instills horror in you, his begging repels you, and you flee his approach like the assault of a wild beast. Think a little: the angels, who are pure spirit, do not hesitate to touch humankind, and your body of flesh and blood is no horror to them at all. But why evoke angels? The Lord of the angels, the king of celestial bliss, became man for you and put on this stinking and unclean flesh, with the soul thus enclosed, in order to effect a total cure of your ills by his touch. But to you, you who share the nature of this brokenness, you flee your own race. No, my brothers, let not this odious judgment flatter you! Remember who you are and on whom you contemplate: a human person like yourself, whose basic nature is no different from your own. Don't count too heavily on the future. In condemning the sickness that preys upon the body of this man, you fail to consider whether you might be, in the process condemning yourself and all nature. For you yourself belong to the common nature of all. Treat all therefore as one common reality. [477] Why aren't you moved by any of the diseases you perceive happening to other people? You see the wandering men who are scattered along our roads like cattle foraging for a little nourishment, clothed in wretched rags, a wooden staff in their hands to arm and support them. Yet these are not their own fingers that they clasp, but a species of straps lying along their wrists. A torn scrip, a morsel of stale bread, that is their entire hearth, home, light, bed, barn, table, all the supplies of life. And do you not know who it is who lives in this condition? Man born in the image of God, entrusted with the governance of the earth and the rule over all creatures, here so alienated by sickness that one hesitates to recognize him. He has none of the

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appearance of a man, nor those of a beast. Do you think about the man? But the human body disowns this hideous form. Do you try to see here an animal? But there is no species that takes the form of this monster. Alone, they dare to look at themselves among themselves, and they live in bands, united by their common sufferings. To outsiders they only awaken disgust. Among themselves necessity overrides the horror that they give themselves. Driven away from everywhere, they form a society apart and living, mixed together, closely [in a narrow space]. Can you distinguish their gloomy dances? Do you listen to their plaintive songs? How do they arrive to make a parade of their infirmities and give the crowds the spectacle of their crippled bodies? Macabre jugglers, exhibiting their diverse mutilations! Making sad melodies and gloomy chants, poets of a unique type of tragedy where, without any need of new subjects, they fill the stage with their own misfortunes. What expressions! What detailed descriptions! What events do we hear? They tell how they have been driven away by their own parents, without the least grief over their affliction, how they have been banished from the assemblies, festivals, the markets, treated like murderers and parricides, condemned like those to perpetual exile, but much worse yet. For criminals are always able to establish themselves abroad and live among the members of a collective group. Alone, the sick are driven out from all countries, like designated enemies of the human race. They are not considered worthy of a roof, a common table, or any furniture. As if this is not bad enough, they are forbidden from the public fountains as well as the streams: they are likely to poison them, it is said. If a dog comes there to moisten his bloody tongue, it is not decreed that the water has been polluted. But if only a sick man approaches there, at once the stream is condemned because of him. Such are their stories and such their complaints. This is why, pressed by hunger, they come to throw themselves at the feet of the public and implore the first to appear. This atrocious spectacle has often filled me with alarm; often I have felt deeply upset by it, and now [480] it utterly confounds my thoughts. I see again this pitiable suffering, these scenes that force one to tears, these human beings dragging themselves along the road, half-dead, yet supremely human. Rather than men, theirs is a lamentable wreckage. Their malady has robbed them of the traits that would permit them to be identified. One is not able to recognize humans in them: they have lost the form. Alone among the living, they detest themselves and abhor the day they were born, since they have reason to curse these hours that have inaugurated such a horrendous existence. Human beings, I say, who are ashamed to answer to this common name, and who fear dishonoring the common nature by carrying the title. They pass their life ever groaning and never lack a good excuse for tears. All that they ever need to do to awaken their own plaintive cries is to look at themselves. For they do not know whether it is worse to lose their members or still to have them: should they be sad that nature sometimes spares them rather than mutilating them? Which is worse: to be able to see the evidence of their loss or to no longer have it in sight, the malady having rendered them blind? To have such misfortunes to relate, or to be dumb victims for whom the leprosy has eaten away their tongue? To feed miserably on a mouthful of bread or to have lost the form of the mouth altogether and no longer be able to catlike everyone else? To have the experience of the body rotting like carrion, or to be completely without nerve sensations? Where is their sight? Their smell?

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Their touch? Where are the other sensations that the infection eats away, little by little? One sees these unfortunates everywhere, trudging along like a flock in search of better pasture. To bargain for food, they carry their distress and show their ulcers by way of a beggar's palm. Isolated in their malady, they have no one to guide their way; their need brings them together and they themselves bring relief to one another. Powerless alone, they help one another and lend the use of their members to make up for those without. One always sees them together. The misfortune itself has fine points, more to their benefit if it advertises itself in all its horror. Each person is his own source of pity, but the public is especially further disturbed if it sees all the infirmities at one time, augmenting the horror of the particular miseries; the misfortunes of one's neighbor thus increase the compassion felt for each individual. This one brandishes a mutilated hand, another exposes a bloated abdomen, a third uncovers a now useless face and another a leg eaten away with gangrene. Anxious to expose his distress, each bares the affected part. What then? Is one not sinning against the natural law by reducing this person's suffering to theatrical phrases, treating the disease with a speech and remembering it with a ballad?29 Is it not necessary rather to let our compassion and love for one another shine forth radiantly in action? There is a difference between words and action as great as the difference between a painting and the reality. The Lord affirms that we will be saved, not by our words but by our actions. Also, we ought not to shortchange the commandment that enjoins us to help them [the poor]. But let no one say that some place far away from our life is perfectly sufficient and send them off to some frontier, supplying them with food. For a plan of this sort displays neither mercy nor sympathy but is designed, in the guise of goodwill, to banish these people utterly from our life. Are we not willing to shelter pigs and dogs under our roof? The hunters are often not separated, even at night, from their dogs. Look at the love that the peasant has for his calf. Even better, the traveler washes his donkey's hoofs with his own hands, brushes his back, carries out his dung, and cleans the stable. And will we disparage our own kin and race as baser than the animals? Let these things not be — no, my brothers! Resolve that this inhumanity will not triumph. Remember who they are on whom we meditate: on human beings, in no way distinct from common nature. "There is for all only one entrance into life"30: one way to live, to drink, to eat, only one physical make-up, a common biological law, only one physical death, only one return to the dust. All are similarly bound for decomposition; The body lives bound to the soul; like a transitory bubble, the spirit clothes itself in the body. The bubble bursts without leaving a trace of our exit. Our memory remains on steles, tombstones and epitaphs, but these also disappear eventually. Do not be exalted, as the apostle said, "but fear" (Rom. 11:20), lest the harsh lawgiver make you the first victim of the cruelty you practice. Do you flee, tell me, from the one who is sick? What repels you? That he has a weakness characterized by oozing of the rotten humors and blood infected by pus, followed by a flow of bile? For this is the medical explanation. Is it the sick person's fault if the frail fabric of his

29. Jta6aiv€a6ca, to sing a song or psalm of pathos. 30. Wisdom of Solomon 7:6.

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sickly nature exposes itself in these unfortunate ways? Don't you see the healthy person suffering with a boil, a pimple, or other irritations of this sort, of similar purulent inflammations that overheat and redden the skin? What then? Does the rest of the body energetically destroy itself? Just the opposite: all the healthy parts act together to resorb the place of infection. This kind of suffering is not nauseating. Our healthy skin does not interfere with the [484] healing of the abscess. So why send these unfortunates away from us? This is why: no one fears the pronouncement, "Go, far from me, into the eternal fire. Of those whom you have given no aid, it is me you have failed to help." If we believed this, we would change our attitude toward the unfortunates; we would go back to them, without any trace of repugnance over caring for their illness. But if we have faith in the promise of God, it is our duty to obey these commandments: only our willingness can assure us of God's promised good will. Stranger, naked, hungry, sick, prisoner; this person carries all the misfortunes the gospel describes. He lives naked, without roof, and the addition of illness reduces him to the most tragic penury. He possesses nothing and has no power to get out of his suffering and provide for his life. He is a prisoner, chained by the illness. You have here the means by which to fulfill the whole law, rendering to the Lord all the things he demands if you show philanthropy to this person. Why then seek your own destruction? For God makes a home for those faithful to his law but deserts the hardhearted. "Carry my yoke"; (Matt. 11:29) ^ 's called yoke, obedience to the law. Let us respond now to this summons: become Christ's beast of burden, strap on charity, and do not shake off this soft and gentle yoke that does not chafe the neck but rather caresses it. "Let us sow blessings in order to also reap blessings" (2 Cor. 9:6). This seed will yield a plentiful harvest. The crop of the Lord's law is abundant. The fruits of blessing are high indeed. Do you know how far they pile up? To the apex of heaven. All the good deeds that you have done will reap celestial fruit. Don't despair as a result of this saying, nor say that it is despicable to have a friendship with these people. The hand is mutilated but it is not insensitive to assistance. The foot is gangrenous but always able to run to God; the eye is missing, but it discerns invisible goodness nonetheless, to the enlightenment of the soul. Don't despise their misshapen body; yet a little while and you will contemplate a vision more astonishing than a complete miracle. Our frail nature is not prone to long-term endurance. As soon as there is no more weaving to be done on the corruptible and terrestrial body, the soul, delivered, will manifest its interior beauty. To that rich man of luxury, the life-giving hand of the poor man was not loathsome, but [485] he expressed a desire that the formerly purulent fingers of the poor man might procure for him a drop of water, wanting to lick the wet thumb of the poor man with his tongue. He would not have had to wish this if he had known enough to perceive the soul beyond the ugliness of the body. Once in the afterlife, what vain regrets take hold of the rich man? How he ought to proclaim the poor blessed for his bad lot here below? How he ought to accuse his own people, those vowed to wealth to the detriment of the soul? If he had the chance to live his life over, which character do you think he would play? That of a grand overlord or that of the oppressed? To all appearances, it is not uncertain that he would prefer the lot of the unfortunate. For he wishes that a beacon be sent [to warn] the brothers about this fate, so that they would give up this delusion of vain riches and temptation to a love of comfort and not slide down the slope

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of pleasure, rolling uncontrollably into the infernal shadows. What do you think? Are we never going to learn the lesson of these accounts? Do we refuse the fair deal that our companion, the godly apostle, offers us: Your overabundance provides for their deficit so that the abundance of the needy in what pertains to this life might provide for your salvation? (2 Cor. 8:14) If we wish to find our profit here, we should practice this with foresight. If we desire to take this blessing up, let us give relief right now. If we want to be received by them in the eternal places, let us receive them now. If we wish to heal the wounds by which our sins have afflicted us, heal today the ulcers that break down their flesh. "Blessed are the merciful, for they will obtain mercy" (Matt. 5:7). But perhaps you will disagree with me that the commandments can be well trusted, and [you say that] these days it is important to avoid the risk of contagion. You imagine that therefore you escape involuntary ills by fleeing sicknesses. These words are made-up excuses by which you conceal your scorn for divine wishes. And they are not true. There is nothing to fear when one is following the commandment. Don't treat evil with evil. How often we see people who have devoted their lives to the sick from their youth to their old age, without their health being in the least affected. Nothing happens to them. Certain illnesses, such as the plagues, do have an external cause and can be traced to pestilence in the air or water, with suspected transmission from the afflicted to those who approach them — (Personally I do not believe it can possibly be passed on from the afflicted to those who are healthy, but that common factors contribute and bring on the illness similarly in everyone)31 — that the sickness is to blame as it goes out from those who have been affected and into the rest. But it is only in the interior [488] that the illness develops, invading the blood by putrid humors that infect it, and the infection does not leave the sick person. This hypothesis is confirmed by the following proof: Is there anyone indeed among the strong whose health deteriorates by association with the sick, even if they are in extremely close contact while providing medical care? No; this does not happen. Indeed, the opposite is more likely, I say: that illness cannot even be transmitted from the sick to those who are healthy. In thus preparing for the kingdom of heaven, there is no [danger of] harm to the body of the one who serves. So why do you still hold back from applying the commandment of love? But, you say, it is hard to master the loathing that most people naturally feel in the face of the sick. Truly, I am of your opinion: it is hard. But am I saying that if it is a worthy project, there will be no effort? God's law commanded much sweat and toil for the hope of heaven and He teaches humankind —by the harder tasks and harshness of constraining circumstances on all sides — that the way to life is difficult. For it is said, "Narrow and restricted is the way that leads to life" (Matt. 7:14). What then? Will we give up hope of blessing because it is incompatible with comfort? Let us ask the young people whether wisdom by effort does not seem to them more difficult than shameless abandonment to pleasures. Are we, with so much at stake, going to choose the pleasant, smooth path and beat a retreat in the face of the steep path of virtue? This decision offends the legislator who has forbidden us during our

31. The parentheses here are in the Greek text.

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life to take the smooth road, easy and spacious. "Enter," he says, "by the restricted, narrow door." Let us put our efforts into the exercise of the precepts that our lives so ignore: curing the natural aversion of the healthy by the persevering exercise of care for the sick. For hard exercise has a surprising effect even on the most difficult people, in that it creates a long-term sense of enjoyment. Let no one say this is laborious duty, for it is useful to those who perform it. In time we will change and laborious effort will become sweet. If I must make it even more clear, sympathy toward the unfortunate is, in this life, profitable for the healthy. For it is beautiful32 for the soul to provide mercy to others who have fallen on misfortune. For all humanity is governed by a single nature, and no one possesses any guarantee of continual happiness. We ought never to forget the gospel [489] precept that we treat others as we wish others to treat us. Insofar as you sail on tranquil waters, hold the hand of the unfortunate who have suffered shipwreck. You all sail on the same sea, prone to waves and tempests: and reefs, underwater breakwaters and other dangers of the ocean evoke the same apprehension in all sailors. Insofar as you are floating, healthy and safe, on the calm sea of life, do not arrogantly pass by those who have shipwrecked their vessel on the reefs. What assurance do you have of always following your way on tranquil waters? You have not yet arrived at the safe port; you have not yet been dragged from the waves, you have not yet reached the shore; throughout your life you remain on the water. Your attitudes toward the unlucky person will determine the conduct of your fellow sailors toward you, yourself. Let us all go forward to attain the port of our rest and desire that the Holy Spirit grant us a serene haven at the end of our journey! Execute God's orders; let us conduct ourselves by the precept of love; guided in this way, let us go up and navigate [the way] to the promised land where the great city stands, whose architect and builder is our God, to whom be glory and power from age to age. Amen.

32. This thought is reminiscent of the opening paragraphs of Gregory of Nazianzus's Or. 14, where he lists the virtues that are kalos.

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2io Select Bibliography Palladius. The Lausiac History. Trans. Robert T. Meyer. ACW. New York: Newman Press, 1964. Pelagius. The Letters ofPelagius and His Followers. Ed. and trans. B. R. Rees. Woodridge and Rochester, N.Y.: Boynton Press, 1991. Philo. De Josepho in Philo. Ed. and trans. F. H. Colson. LCC. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1935. Philostratus. Lives of the Sophists. Trans. Wilmer C. Wright. LCL. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1921, 2-315. Plato. The Laws. Trans. Trevor J. Saunders. New York: Penguin, 1970. . Timaeus and Critias. Trans. Desmond Lee. New York: Penguin, 1965. Plutarch. "On Love of Wealth." Ed. and trans. Phillip H. DeLacy and Benedict Einarson. In Plutarch: Moralia. LCL. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1959, 7.2-39. Porphyry. De Abstinentia. Trans. Thomas Taylor and ed. Esme Wynne Tyson. Porphyry: On Abstinence from Animal Food. London: Centaur, 1965. Seneca. De Beneficiis. Trans. J. W. Basore. Seneca: Moral Essays. LCL. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1928-1935. . De dementia. Trans. J. W. Basore. Seneca: Moral Essays. LCL. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1928-35. Socrates. Historia Ecclesiastica. PG 67.29-842; English trans. A. C. Zenos in NPNF2 2. Sozomen. Historia Ecclesiastica. PC 67.853-1629; English trans. Chester D. Hartranft in NPNF 2 2. Syesius of Gyrene, The Essays and Hymns of Synesius of Gyrene. Ed. and trans. Augustine FitzGerald. 2 vols. London: Oxford University Press, 1930. . The Letters of Synesius of Gyrene. Ed. and trans. Augustine FitzGerald. London: Oxford University Press, 1926. Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs. Ed. R. H. Charles. The Greek Version of the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1908. Reprint Hildesheim: Olms, 1960. Themistius. Themistii Orationes Quae Supersunt I. Ed. H. Schenkl and G. Downey. 3 vols. Bibliotheca Scriptorum Graecorum et Romanorum Teubneriana; Academia Scientiarum Germanica Berolinensis. Berlin: Teubner, 1965-1974. The Theodosian Code and Novels and the Sirmondian Constitutions. Ed. and trans. Clyde Pharr. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1952. Modern Works Altaner, Berthold. "Augustinus, Gregor von Nazianz und Gregor von Nyssa: Quellenkritische Untersuchungen." Revue Benedictine 61 (1951): 54-62. Anderson, Knute, OSB. "Mysterious Relationships: Gregory of Nazianzos' Motivation of the Unmotivated toward Charitable Care of the Needy." Unpublished paper presented at the North American Patristics Society, Chicago, May 1992. Andreau, Jean. La vie financiere dans le monde romain: Les metiers de manieurs d'argent (IV siecle avant /.-C. - III siecle ap. J.-C). BEFAR 265. Rome, 1986. Balch, David L. "Rich and Poor, Proud and Humble in Luke-Acts." In The Social World of the First Christians: Essays in Honor of Wayne A. Meeks, ed. L. Michael White and O. Larry Yarbrough, 214-233. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1995. Barrett, David E., and Deborah A Frank. The Effects ofUndemutrition on Children's Behavior, Food and Nutrition in History and Anthropology 6. Philadelphia: Gordon and Breach, 1987. Barrows, J. O. On Horseback in Cappadocia; Or, A Mission Tour Together with Some Things Which They Saw Who Made It. Boston: Congregational Sunday-School and Publishing Society, 1884.

Select Bibliography 211 Beard, Mary, and John North, eds. Pagan Priests: Religion and Power in the Ancient World. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1990. Bell, Catherine. Ritual Theory Ritual Practice. New York: Oxford University Press, 1992. Bell, Rudolph M. Holy Anorexia. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985. Bernardi, Jean. La predication des peres cappadociens: Le predicateur et son auditoire. Publications de la Faculte des lettres et sciences humaines de FUniversite de Montpellier 30. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1968. Bethune, Alexander. Tales and Sketches of the Scottish Peasantry. Edinburgh: Adam & Charles Black, 1839. Biblia Patristica: Index des citations et allusions bibliques dans la litterature patristique. Paris: Editions du CNRS, 1991, vol. 5. Bolkestein, Hendrik. Wohlstdtigkeit und Armenpflege im vorchristlichen altertum: Ein Betrag zum Problem 'Moral und Cesellschaft.' Utrecht, 1939. Reprint Groningen: Bouma's Boekhuis, 1967. Bonz, Marianne Palmer. "The Jewish Donor Inscriptions from Aphrodisias: Are They Both Third-Century, and Who Are the Theosebeis?" HSCP 96 (1994): 281-99. Boswell, John. The Kindness of Strangers: The Abandonment of Children in Western Europe from Late Antiquity to the Renaissance. New York: Random House, 1988. Brakke, David. Athanasius and the Politics of Asceticism. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995. Brandle, Rudolf. Matt. 25,31-46 im Werk des Johannes Chrysostomos. Beitrage zur Geschichte der biblischen Exegese. Tubingen: J.C.B. Mohr, 1979. Bregman, Jay. Synesius of Gyrene. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982. Brock, Sebastian, and Susan Ashbrook Harvey, eds. and trans. Holy Women of the Syrian Orient. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987. Brooks, Roger. Support for the Poor in the Mishnaic Law of Agriculture: Tractate Peah. Brown Judaic Studies 43. Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1983. Brousse, Emile. De I'assistance publique chez les Romains: Droit romain; De {'assistance publique: Droit franc.ais. Paris: A. Derenne, 1876. Brown, Peter. Authority and the Sacred: Aspects of the Christianization of the Roman World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. . The Making of Late Antiquity. Carl Newell Jackson Lecture. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1978. . Power and Persuasion in Late Antiquity: Towards a Christian Empire. The Curti Lectures, 1988. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1992. . Society and the Holy in Late Antiquity. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982. -. The World of Late Antiquity. London: W. W. Norton, 1971. Brubaker, Leslie. Vision and Meaning in Ninth-Century Byzantium: Image as Exegesis in the Homilies of Gregory ofNazianzus. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Bruck, Eberhard. "Kirchenvater und Seelteil." Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung fur Rechtsgeschichte: Romanistische Abteilung 72 (1955): 191-210. . Kirchenvater und soziales Erbrecht: Wanderungen religioser Ideen durch die Rechte der ostlichen und westlichen Welt. Heidelberg: Springer, 1956. Budge, Ernest A. Wallis, trans. The Syriac Book of Medicines. London: Oxford University Press, 1913; rept. Amsterdam: Philo Press, 1976. Bynum, Caroline Walker. Holy Feast and Holy Fast: The Religious Significance of Food to Medieval Women. The New Historicism: Studies in Cultural Poetics i. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987. Callahan, John F. "Greek Philosophy and the Cappadocian Cosmology." DOP12 (1958): 2957Camp, John McK. II. "A Drought in the Late Eighth Century B.C." Hesperia 48 (1979): 397-411.

212 Select Bibliography Campbell, James M. The Influence of the Second Sophistic on the Style of the Sermons of St. Basil the Great. Patristic Studies 2. Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1922. Camporesi, Piero. Bread of Dreams: Food and Fantasy in Early Modem Europe. Trans, David Gentilcore. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989. Carney, T. F. "The Emperor Claudius and the Grain Trade." In Hierdie bundel word opgedra aan Prof. H. L. Gonin, ed. D. M. Kriel, 39-57. Pretoria: Departement Latyn, 1971. Casanova, Gerardo. "Le epigrafi di Terenouthis e la peste." Yale Classical Studies 28 (1985): H5-54Casson, Lionel. "The Grain Trade of the Hellenistic World. TAPA 85 (1954): 168-87. Cavalcanti, Elena. "I due discorsi de pauperibus amandis di Gregoriq di Nissa." Orientalia Christiana Periodica 44 (1978): 170-80. Chadwick, Owen, ed. and trans. "The Sayings of the Fathers." Western Asceticism. LCC. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1958. Cheal, David. The Gift Economy. London: Routledge, 1988. Cherniss, Harold Fredrik. "The Platonism of Gregory of Nyssa." University of California Publications in Classical Philology 11.1 (1930), 1-92. Reprint New York: Johnson Reprint Corp., 1971. Colson, Elizabeth. "In Good Years and in Bad: Food Strategies of Self-Reliant Societies." Journal of Anthropological Research 35 (1979): 18-29. Coulie, Bernard. Les richesses dans I'oeuvre de Saint Gregoire de Nazianze: Etude litteraire et historique. Publications de I'lnstitut Orientaliste de Louvain 32. Louvain-la-Neuve: Catholic University of Louvain, 1985. , ed. Versiones Orientales, Repertorium Ibericum et Studio ad Editiones Curandas. CCSG 20; Corpus Nazianzenum i. Turnhout: Brepols, 1988. Countryman, L. William. The Rich Christian in the Church of the Early Empire: Contradictions and Accommodations. New York: Mellen Press, 1980. Cuesta, Jose Janini. La antropologia y la medicina pastoral de San Gregorio de Nisa. Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Cientificas, 1946. Dalby, Andrew. Siren Feasts: A History of Food and Gastronomy in Greece. London: Routledge, 1996. Daley, Brian E. "1998 NAPS Presidential Address: Building a New City: The Cappadocian Fathers and the Rhetoric of Philanthropy." /ECS 7 (1999): 431-61. Dando, William A. The Geography of Famine. Scripta series in geography. London: E. Arnold, 1980. . "Man Made Famines: Past, Present and Future," with commentary by Surinder M. Bhardwa j. In Agriculture Literature: Proud Heritage—Future Promise, A Bicentennial Symposium, Sept. 24-26,1975, 323-41. Washington, D.C.: Graduate School Press, United States Department of Agriculture, 1977. Danielou, Jean. From Shadows to Reality: Studies in the Biblical Typology of the Fathers. Trans. Dom Wilstan Hibberd. Westminster: Newman Press, 1960. . "La chronologic des sermons de Gregoire de Nysse." RevSR 29 (1955) 360-61. . "Le mariage de Gregoire de Nysse et la chronologie de sa vie." REAug 2 (1956): 71-78. . Le iv'"'"siecle: Gregoire de Nysse et son milieu. Paris: Institut Catholique de Paris, 1960. D'Arms, J. H. "Control, Companionship and Clientela: Some Social Functions of the Roman Communal Meal." Echoes du Monde Classique/Classical Views 28 n.s. 3 (1984): 327-48. Dembfnska, M. "Diet: A Comparison of Food Consumption between Some Eastern and Western Monasteries in the 4th-i2th Centuries." Byzantion 55 (1985): 431-54. de Santa Ana, Julio. Good News to the Poor: The Challenge of the Poor in the History of the Church. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1979.

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Detienne, Marcel, and Jean-Pierre Vernant. The Cuisine of Sacrifice among the Greeks. Trans. Paula Wissing. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989. De Vinne, Michael}. "The Advocacy of Empty Bellies: Episcopal Representation of the Poor in the Late Empire." Ph.D. diss., Stanford University, 1995. Dirks, Robert. "Social Responses during Severe Food Shortages and Famine." Current Anthropology 21 (1980): 21-44. Douglas, Mary. Purity and Danger: An Analysis of the Concepts of Pollution and Taboo. New York: Praeger, 1966. Reprint London: Routledge, 1991. Douglas, Mary, and Baron Isherwood. The World of Goods: Toward an Anthropology of Consumption. London: Routledge, 1996. Downs, R. E., Donna O. Kerner, and Stephen P. Reyna, eds. The Political Economy of African Famine. Food and Nutrition in History and Anthropology 9. Philadelphia: Gordon and Breach, 1991. Dreze, Jean, and Amartya Sen. Hunger and Public Action. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989. Dreze, Jean, and Amartya Sen, eds. The Political Economy of Hunger. 2 vols. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990. Duncan-Jones, Richard. The Economy of the Roman Empire: Quantitative Studies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974. Reprint 1982. . Structure and Scale in the Roman Economy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990.

Ellverson, A. The Dual Nature of Man. A Study in the Theological Anthropology of Gregory of Nazianzus. Studia Doctrinae Christianae Upsaliensia. Uppsala: Uppsala University, 1981. Elm, Susanna. "Virgins of God": The Making of Asceticism in Late Antiquity. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994. Etienne, Robert. Pompeii: The Day a City Died. Trans. Caroline Palmer. London: Thames and Hudson, 1992. Faroqhi, Suraiya. Men of Modest Substance: House Owners and House Property in Seventeenth-Century Ankara andKayseri. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987. Fedwick, Paul Jonathan, ed. Basil of Caesarea: Christian, Humanist, Ascetic: A SixteenHundredth Anniversary Symposium. 2 vols. Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 1981. . Bibliotheca Basiliana Vniversalis f=BBVJ, A Study of the Manuscript Traditions of the Works of Basil of Caesarea. I. The Letters. Corpus Christianorum. Turnhout: Brepols, '993-

-. Bibliotheca Basiliana Vniversalis f=BBVj, II.1,2: The Homiliae Morales, Hexaemeron, De Litteris, with Additional Coverage of the Letters. Corpus Christianorum. Turnhout: Brepols, 1996. Fellechner, Ernst. "Askese und Caritas bei den drei Kappadokiern." Inaugural-Dissertation, University of Heidelberg, 1979. Forster, Robert, and Orest Ranum, eds. Biology of Man in History: Selections from theAnnales. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1975. . Food and Drink in History: Selections from the Annales, economies, societes, civilisations. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1979. Frayn, Joan M. "Wild and Cultivated Plants: A Note on the Peasant Economy of Roman Italy. JRS 65 (1975): 32-39. Frederiksen, M. W. "Caesar, Cicero and the Problem of Debt." JRS 56 (1966): 128-41. Fuks, Alexander. Social Conflict in Ancient Greece. Jerusalem: Magnes Press, Hebrew University; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1984.

214 Select Bibliography Gain, Benoit. L'Eglise de Cappadoce au \Ve siecle d'apres la correspondence de Basile de Cesaree. OCA 225. Rome: Pontificium Institutum Orientale, 1985. Gallay, P. La vie de saint Gregoire de Nazianze. Lyons, E. Vitte, 1943. Gapp, Kenneth Sperber. "The Universal Famine under Claudius," HTR 28 (1935): 258-65. Garnsey, Peter. Famine and Food Supply in the Graeco-Roman World: Responses to Risk and Crisis. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1988. Garnsey, P., and C. R. Whittaker, eds. Trade and Famine in Classical Antiquity. Cambridge: Cambridge Philological Society, 1983, Suppl. 8. Garrison, Roman. Redemptive Almsgiving in the Early Church. JSNT Suppl Ser. 77. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993. Georgi, Dieter. Remembering the Poor: The History of Paul's Collection for Jerusalem. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1992. Giet, Stanislas. "De Saint Basile a Sainte Ambroise: La condamnation du pret a interet au IV6 siecle,"RevSR 32 (1944): 95-128. . Les idees et faction sociale de Saint Basile. Paris: Librairie Lecoffre, 1941. Gilbert, Peter L. "Person and Nature in the Theological Poems of St. Gregory of Nazianzus," Ph.D. Dissertation, Catholic University of America, 1994. Ginzburg, Lidiya. Blockade Diary. Trans. Alan Myers. London: Harvill Press, 1995. Ginzberg, Louis. The Legends of the Jews. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1969. Gleason, Maud W. Making Men: Sophists and Self-Presentation in Ancient Rome. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995. Goody, Jack. Cooking, Cuisine and Class: A Study in Comparative Sociology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982. Rept. 1991. Goshen-Gottstein, Moshe H. Syriac Manuscripts in the Harvard College Library: A Catalogue. Harvard Semitic Studies 23. Missoula: Scholars Press, 1979. Gould, Graham. "Basil of Caesarea and the Problem of the Wealth of Monasteries." In The Church and Wealth, ed. W. J. Sheils and D. Wood, 15-23. Studies in Church History 24. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1987. Gowers, Emily. The Loaded Table: Representations of Food in Roman Literature. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993. Gregg, Robert C. Consolation Philosophy: Greek and Christian Paideia in Basil and the Two Gregories. Patristic Monograph Series 3. Cambridge, Mass.: Philadelphia Patristic Foundation, 1975. Gremillion, Joseph, ed. Food/Energy and the Major Faiths. Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis, 1978. Griffith, Sidney H. "Ephraem, the Deacon of Edessa, and the Church of the Empire." In Diakonia: Studies in Honor of Robert T. Meyer, ed. Thomas Halton and Joseph P. Williman, 22-52. Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1986. . "Images of Ephraem: The Syrian Holy Man and His Church." Traditio 45 (1989-90): 7-33Grimm, Veronica. From Feasting to Fasting: The Evolution of a Sin. London: Routledge, 1996. Grmek, Mirko D. Diseases in the Ancient Greek World. Trans. M. Muellner and L. Muellner. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1989. Halstead, Paul, and John O'Shea, eds. Bad Year Economics: Cultural Responses to Risk and Uncertainty. New Directions in Archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989. Hamel, Gildas. Poverty and Charity in Roman Palestine, First Three Centuries C.E. Near Eastern Studies 23. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990. Hanawalt, Emily Albu, and Carter Lindberg, eds. Through the Eye of a Needle: Judeo-Christian Roots of Social Welfare. Kirksville, Mo.: Thomas Jefferson University Press, 1994.

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Index

Acacius of Amida, sale of church plate, 60 Acts, model of communal sharing, 83, 111, 113, 129 Adam,"wrongful eating" and the return to Eden, 82, 83, 129, 150-51, 164 Aerius, presbyter, 74 Aetius, disciple of Eunomius, 26, 73 alarm, stage of starvation, 91 alimenta, 38-39, 116-17 almsgiving, redemptive. See redemptive almsgiving altar bloodless, 179 and Gregory the Elder, 176 poor as, 19, 60, 62 sale of ornaments for poor, 60 traditional location of physical sanctuary, 179 Ambrose correspondence with Basil, 124 De Tobia, 101 on Joseph, 127, 130-32 sale of church plate, 60 Amos, 81, 131 Amphilochius, 73, 101, 109-11, 127, 141, 168 Annesi, retreat at, 146 annona, 38-42 Anomoean controversy, no Anthony, St., 26, n.117 Antioch, council of, 137 Aphrodisias, Jewish soup kitchen, 43, 45-47 Apollonius, on famine foods, 67

Archigenes, 154 Aretaeus of Cappadocia, 145, 153-55, 157 Arians, christology and body of poor, 29 Aristophanes, depiction of poverties in the Plutus, 34-35 Aristotle on beggars, 35-36 on epideictic oratory, 174 on liturgies versus friendship, 32 on pathos in rhetoric, 102, 132 Politica, 112 rhetoric and public food supply, 126 on tokos 121 on usury, 115-16 Asterius, bishop of Amasea, 111 Babatha, archive, 116 n.58, 118-19 bakers, Roman, 40-41 bankruptcy, 117 Barrows, J. O., 70-71 Barthes, Roland, 64 Basil, bishop of Caesarea " Canonical epistles," 110 Ep. 150 on the ptochotropheion, 111 epistles on poverty and famine, 73 on the famine of 368, 64-98 (see also famine) Hexaemeron, 104, 133 Hom. 6, 102-104, 107-109 Hom. 7, 102, 104-109 Hom. 8, 76-83 HPs14a, 109-114 223

224

Index

Basil, bishop of Caesarea—Continued HPs14.b, 25, 109-111 paideia and administrative power, 71, 111 Basileias. See ptochotropheion beggars, fresco from Pompeii, 37 begging, Graeco-Roman views, 34-37 Bel and the Dragon. See Daniel Bolkestein, Hendrik, 9-10 Bonz, Marianne Palmer, 46-7 bread part of the annona, 40-41 sacred, stolen by the poor, 86 (see also feast of Hecate) Brousse, Emile, 7-8 Brown, Peter, 17, 37 Bruck, Eberhard, 14 Caesar, fiscal reforms, 42 Caesarea Mazaka, capital of Cappadocia, in the 360s, 69-70 Caesareus, brother of Gregory of Nazianzus, 154 library of, 30 Photius on, 154 cannibalism, at Edessa, 84 Cappadocian "poverty sermons," defined, 12 Catechetical oration. See Gregory of Nyssa, Oratio catechetica magna causation, theories of disease, 155-58 Celsus, on energy use during food shortage, 67 children in church at Cappadocia, 78 exposure, in famine, 69 food, supplemental (see alimenta) choregia, 21 Christ, in the poor, 142-43, 167, 173. See also "poor" christology Arian versus Nicene, 29, 181 (see also incarnation, theology) in Gregory of Nyssa's Great Catechectical Oration, 164-66 and the leper's body, 163-66 Chronopius, deposed bishop fined to aid the poor, 59 Chrysostom, John, 19, 61, 62 on Lazarus and the rich man, 161 Chrysostom, Ps. See De siccitate

Cicero, on beneficent justice, 36 citizenship, heavenly, and the poor, 149-52 civic identity, of the poor, 10-12 as criteria for aid, 18 criteria for civic membership, 32 influence of Christianization, 18 in patronage, 17 civic imagery, in Basil's HPs 14a.6, 109-114 in Gregory of Nyssa, 136 Clement, First Letter of, 48-9 Clement of Alexandria, Quis dives salvetur,' 15, 51-53 clothing, theft, 99-100 coinage, poor as, 133 commentaresius, 99 communities, of lepers, 155 Constantine, laws on food relief, 39, 56 Constantinople, council of, 137 contagion, 136, 144 in Gregory of Nazianzus, 159-60 in Gregory of Nyssa, 158-59 and heresies, 159 " reverse," 162-67 contracts. See loans; food tickets cosmic, views of cosmic restoration, in Basil and the Gregories, 83 poor as earth, 104 in Gregory of Nazianzus on healing, 163-66 councils of Antioch, 137 of Caesarea in Cappadocia, 99-100 of Constantinople, 137 of Gangra, 74 courtyard, as location for patron-client relations, 169 curiales, class of the Cappadocian bishops, 171 Cynic, as beggars, 37 Cyprian, bishop of Carthage, De opere et eleemosynis, 12, 15, 54, 62 Cyril of Jerusalem, 60 Daniel 14:33-39, apocryphal story of Habakkuk as tropheus, 82, 189 Desiccate, 84, 86-88 De Vinne, Michael, 19, 96-97 debt and imperial fisc, 117, 121 Deferrari, Roy, 77 deification. See theosis

Index dialect of Cappadocia, and literacy, 72 n.41. Didache, poverty-relief in, 50 digestion, in Gregory of Nyssa on incarnation, 165-66 Dignity, in Jewish poverty-relief, 43, 47-8 Dio Chrysostom, famine and response, 36, 58 Dioscorides Anazarbeus, 154 Dirks, Robert, stages of famine response, 86, 91-95, 170 disease causation theories (see causation) as consequence of famine, 85 creditors as diseased by greed, 125-26 debt as, 121 leprosy (see leprosy) divestment, Basil on total, 51-52 Dogmatism, medical theory of, 156 dole, Roman grain. See annona drought, 68, 170 Ebionites, 4 ecology, beneficence to the poor changes ecological balance, and response of the earth, 96, 104, 173 Edessa, famine of 499-502; 84, 86-88 elephantiasis, 145, 153, 154, 157 Elijah, model of, 66, 82, 131, 187 n.8, 189 Empiricism, medical theory of, 156 Ephrem, 59, 60 Gregory of Nyssa on, 128 hymns on Joseph, 127 epideictic oratory. See rhetoric Epigone, 33 Epiphanius, on the ptochotropheion, 74 equality, language in Cappadocians, 101 eucharist, in Gregory of Nyssa, 165-66 euergetism, 11, 14, 32 Eunomius, 26, 29, 65, 73 eunuchs, as rarely catching leprosy, 158 Eupatrios, 139 Euphemia of Amida, description of poor as Christ, 142 n.29 Euphrosynus, 33 Eusebius, of Caesarea, church historian, leitourgia in, 49 bishop of Caesarea Mazaka, Basil's predecessor, 73 bishop of Chalcis, 140 deputy governor of Edessa, 84

225

Eustathius of Sebaste, 74 exercise, treatment for leprosy, 158 exhaustion, stage of starvation, 92-93 extortion. See usury famine Basil and the famine of 368 ff., 59, 65-83, 94-98 in Cappadocia, igth century, 70-71 effects on fertility, 90 famine foods, 67 grain prices in, 58 grain sale versus gift in, 128,132 imperial aid in time of, 58 in history, 67-68 Egypt. 58-9, 129 Edessa 499-502; 84, 86-88 Ephrem and the fourth century famine at Edessa, 60 at Prusa, observed by Dio Chrysostom, 36, 58 under Trajan, 129 medieval famine rhetoric (see De siccitate) modern anthropology and, 68 personified in temple fresco to Apollo, 57 relief, Cyril of Jerusalem on, 60 response, Dirks's stages of, 69, 86, 91-93 father-son relationships, 174-77. See also Gregory the Elder in Athens, 175 and oikos-polis dynamic, 175 feasts funerary, 14, 21, 33 feast of Hecate, 34 feast of Theseus, 35 as perpetual debts, 117 Fedwick, Paul Jonathan, 76-77 n.7o Fellechner, Ernst, 16 Firmus, 5th century bishop of Caesarea, 75 Food shortage, spectrum and stages, 68, 69, 94 food tickets, for annona, 40. See also seal, of lead forged letters, Gregory of Nyssa to Basil, 138 Fuks, Alexander, 10 funerary practices, Graeco-Roman, 14 corrupting wills, 106 denying burial until debts paid, 125 as illustrative liturgy in HPs14a.6, 113

226

Index

Galen, 155, 156, 157 Gapp, Kenneth, 68 Garnsey, Peter, 68 gems and the poor, 61, 109 Georgi, Dieter, 3 Giet, Stanislaus, 13, 75 gift economy, 22-25. See also redemptive almsgiving and the grain dole, 41-42 and the poor as fiscal body, 99-134 gift exchange, 22-25, 113, 177 and the afterlife (see redemptive almsgiving) function of gift in antiquity, 11 gift exchange, and starvation, 95-97 gift versus sale of grain in famine, 132 letters as, 140 poor as gift, 24 role of class in, 23 of words, 174 Ginzburg, Lidiya, 92 gluttony, and rhetoric, no Gracchi, 39, 42 grain dole, Roman. See armona Greek, ancient, on civic identity, justice, and the poor, 10 Gregory of Nazianzus, 140-44, 168-77 Ac/versus opem amantes, 100, 108-9, 173 on the cosmos, 163-66 friendship with Gregory of Nyssa, 136-37 Or. 14, Peri philoptochias, 143-47 Syriac MS 151, newly discovered 8th century fragment of, 144 n.35 Or. 16, In patrem tacentem, 169-77 Gregory of Nyssa, 137-40 civic imagery in, 136 Contra Eunomium, 137 Contra usurarios, 123 De opificio hominis, 28 De pauperibus amandis sermons, 135-40, 145-53, 162-67 friendship with Gregory of Nazianzus, 136-37 Oratio catechetica magna, 145, 164-66 Platonism of, 163-64 Gregory the Elder, bishop of Nazianzus, 73 relationship of Gregory the son with, 174-77 role in Basil's election, 175

Gregory, uncle to Basil, forged letters by Gregory of Nyssa, 138 Gregory Thaumaturgus, 79 n.77 gymnasiarchia, 21 Habakkuk. See Daniel hailstorms, 170 Hamel, Gildas, 5 Hands, A. R., 11 Harvey, Susan Ashbrook, 85 Hecate, feasts of, 34 Herman, Menahem, 24 Hermas, leitourgia in, 48-9 hestiasis. See feasts Hippocrates, Syriac commentary on, 157 hoarding grain, 58, 69, 70, 71, 106, 173 Holl, Karl, 3 Holy Spirit, doctrine of, 27 homeopathy, in treating leprosy, 156-58, 166 hospitals, in history, 17 humoral theory, and leprosy, 153, 155, 156-7 hunger, group dynamics of, 64-65. See also starvation Irish famine examples, 64, 65 monastic, 55 typology model, 93-94 Hymetius, 58-59 illiteracy, and moneylending, 118-19 Imperial relief policies, 56 incarnation theology, 21, 27-30, 164-66 infanticide, 56. See also slavery infants, in church, 78, 79-81 interest rates in antiquity, 115-20 1% per month, 115 4% per month, 118-19 5-12%, 115, 117 5% on land, 116 5% for alimenta, 117 6% for senators, 116 9% in Asia Minor, 116 13% with calculation of lunar month, 118 18% in Roman Nabatea, 119 24% in Commodianus, 119 50% on food, 118 50% in John Chrysostom, 125 Isidore of Alexandria, 61 isonomia, in Gregories' sermons, 150

Index Jerome, 137, 143 Jerusalem, collection for, 48 Jewish poverty-relief, 43, 47-48 alms collecting, 45 soup kitchen at Aphrodisias, 43, 45-47 Jews in Cappadocia, 4, 42-43, 66 John of Ephesus. See Euphemia Joseph, 96, 101, 104, 112, 173 Ambrose on, 127, 130-32 Basil as model of, 65, 66 Basil's typology of, 126-32 and the Egyptian famine, rabbinic traditions, 127 n.105 Ephrem's hymns on, 127 Gregory of Nazianzus on, 65 as the ideal tropheus, 83 (see also tropheus) Josephus, on Joseph famine narrative, 130 Origen on, 126, 127, 131-32 Philo on, 127, 129-32 Romanos's hymns on, 127 Joshua, Ps., the Stylite, Chronicle, 84-86 Julian, a Cappadocian sophist at Athens, 72 Julian, Emperor, 4, 6, 26, 43, 56-57, 83, 141, 154, 182 Julian, tax assessor at Nazianzus, 170 Justin Martyr, collection for the poor, 50 kinship, fictive, 16, 23, 41 kinship dynamics in time of starvation, 92 kinship language in the Gregories' sermons, 148-49 Lallemand, Leon, 8 Lazarus, biblical beggar, 161, 162, 163, 198 leitourgia defined and described, 21-25, 31-63 in 1 Clement, 48-49 in Clement of Alexandria, 53 in Eusebius of Caesarea, 49 in Hermas, 48-9 liturgies, philanthropic at Edessa, 85 in Synesius of Gyrene, 179 use of term by Greek-speaking Jews, 42 use of term in Cappadocian sermons, 25 lending, in antiquity, 115-20 lepers, absent in Basil's texts, 147 pathos, lepers' collective songs of, 203 leprosy, 28, 135-67 and astrological predeliction for, 158

227

and Christian "containment," 144 contagion, 158-63 and exercise, 158 " reverse" contagion, as spiritual healing 162-63 and ritual purity, 144, 159 as "sacred disease," 161 sexual activity and, 158 as a spiritual metaphor in Methodius, 160 letter as rhetoric and gift exchange, 140, 141-42 forgeries by Gregory of Nyssa, 138 Gregory of Nazianzus, on his own, 175 Libanius, 6, 37, 139 literacy, in Cappadocia, 27, 72 n.41 liturgy. See leitourgia loans, 118, 124, 126 locusts, 84, 178 logos. See word; letter; rhetoric Lucian, on Cappadocian oratory, 72 Macarius of Alexandria, superintendant of poor-house, 61 MacMullen, Ramsay, 68 Macrina, 76, 137, 139, 163 Marathonius, superintendant of the poor at Constantinople, 60 marriage, Gregory of Nyssa, 138 Martin-Doisy, Felix, 7 Matthew 19:16-22 (story of rich young ruler), 14, 104 Matthew 25:31-46, Cappadocian use of, 20, 82-83, 103, 150, 172, 196, 199-200, 204-5 Mauss, Marcel, theory of the gift, 23-25, 140 medical therapy, and incarnation theology, 21. See also leprosy medicine, and the Cappadocians, 29, 30 Meletius of Antioch, 20 n.95, 137 " mercy" and poverty relief, 7 Merton, Thomas, 71 Methodism, ancient medical theory, 156 Methodius, Sistelius on Leprosy, 160 Miller, Timothy, 17 mines, slaves in, 55 miser, in Alexandria, 61 moneylenders, 116; and early Christian practice, 119-20

228 Index Moschos, John, 31, 63 Moses as leitourgos, 152, 171 mutability, and christology in Gregory of Nyssa, 163-66 Naucratius, 76 neo-Arian christology, 166 New Testament collection for poor of Jerusalem (2 Cor. 9:12), 3-4, 48 penes and ptochos, in, 6 scholarship on poverty, 12 New Testament, Cappadocian use of in poverty sermons, 82, 131. See also Matthew 19 and 25 Nicobulos, 146 Nineveh, penance of, 80, 87 Oberhelman, Steven, 153-54 oil, added to annona, 40 " On the Love of the Poor." See Peri philoptochias sermons oral culture. See word Oribasius, 145, 154, 156, 157 Origen distinction between penes and ptochos, in, 6 on Joseph, 126, 127, 131-32 on the poor, 50-51, 114 Origenist controversy as related to povertyrelief, 62 orphans, care of, 100 Pachomius and redemptive alms, 54-55 paideia, 21, 25-27, 72, 141-42. See also rhetoric Palanque, Jean Remy, 68 Pamonthius, Egyptian wine-dealer, 115 passions and self-mastery, in the poor, 51-52 patella, 45-46 Patlagean, Evelyne, 6, 17 patronage, 11 ff., 18, 32, 82-83 Paul of Aegina. See Paulus Aegineta Paulinus of Antioch, 137 Paulus Aegineta, 156, 157 pe'ah, 43-44 Pelagius, treatise on riches, 50-51 penance, 78-81, 172 penes, defined, 5

Penia, personified, in Aristophanes, 34 penury, 168 peraequator, Julian and Gregory the Elder, 171 Peri philoptochias sermons, 135-67 Peter, bishop of Sebaste, brother to Basil and Gregory of Nyssa, 76, 138, 140, 163 Petosiris, 33 Philagathos Cerameo, 11th century monk. See De siccitate Philagrius, 154 philanthrophy, "Hellenic," 83 Themistius's imperial orations on, 57 Philo on Joseph, 127, 129-32 philosophers, Greek, views on poor, 35-37 Philumenus, medical advice in Oribasius, 157-58 Photius, on Caesareus, 154 pity, as modern concept in poverty discussion, 8 plague, 85, 159, 170, 172, 173 Plato on beggars, 35 on usury, 115 Platonism in Gregory of Nyssa, 163-64 Plautus, on begging, 35 Plutus. See Aristophanes politeia, 152 "poor," the. See also beggars; civic identity; leprosy; orphans; penes; poverty; ptochos; prostitution; redemptive almsgiving; slavery; women as Christ, 53, 149-50, 167, 173; see also christology categorizing, 3-12 deserving versus undeserving in Clement of Alexandria, 52 as an eschatological title, 3 voluntary versus involuntary, 3 poor-hospice, 60. See also ptochotropheion pork, part of annona, 40 Porphyry, on eating meat, 179 n.3o porters, poor as, 20 poverty defined, 4-6, 168 comparative: sick penes twice ptochos, 6, 195 fiscal, 99-134 (see also redemptive almsgiving)

Index Hebrew terms, 5 historical approaches, 7-21 ideal of in the New Testament, 49 Jewish relief, 4 rabbinic views, 4 relief injunctions prior to the fourth century Clement of Alexandria, 50-53; Didache, 50 1 Clement, 50 Justin Martyr, 50 Origen, 50 " poverty sermons" of the Cappadocians defined, xvii, 12 on economic wealth, poverty and debt, 99-126 on environmental crisis in Nazianzus, and liturgical response, 168-182 modern studies on, 12-21 relating to disease, 135-167 relating to hunger, and liturgical response, 64-83, 94-98 prisoners, redeemed by bishops' sale of church plate, 60 prophets, Old Testament, examples of feeding by, 81-82 as typology, 126 prosopon, poor bearing Christ's, 150 prostitution and poverty, 31, 32 n.3, 63 ptochos, defined, 5 ptochotropheion, 6 n.2o, 46-47, 65-66, 73, 74-76, no, 145-48 atAmasea, 75 also called the Basileias, 73-74 Epiphanius on Eustathius's in Pontus, also called xenodocheion, 74 other than Basil's, 75 relationship of Basil's to Peri philoptochias sermons, 145-48 rabbinic traditions, on poverty and relief, 4, 42-48 Rabbula of Edessa, 60 race, in the Peri philoptochias sermons, 149 Ramsay, William, 75 redemptive almsgiving, 24, 54, 105, 107-109 and gift exchange, 151-53 in Old Testament, 47 in Pachomius, 54-55 and prayer of the poor, 123

229

redistribution of goods, in Basil, 109, 122-23, 133, 169 resistance, stage of starvation, 91-92 restoration of land, Josephus on Joseph and the famine narrative, 130 Reynolds, Joyce, 45 rhetoric, classical rhetoric as an aspect of paideia in antiquity, 22, 25-30 and Arians, 26 Basil's compared to the Gregories', 71 and class, 26 deportment and orthodoxy, 26, 27 epideictic oratory, 102, 105, 174 Gregory of Nazianzus 140-42, 170-174 Gregory of Nyssa, 139 and letter-writing, 140 and the poor body, 22 rights, human, language in Cappadocians sermons on poverty, 101, 142, 148-53 ritual purity, 159, 160 rock caves of Cappadocia, 70, 77, 172 Romanos, hymns on Joseph, 127 Romero, Archbishop Oscar on the polls and the poor, 107 Rousseau, Philip, 17, 96 sacred disease, epilepsy, 161. See also leprosy Sasima, Gregory's election to, 170 Satan, as a usurer, 124 scabies, 153 seal, of lead, as a food ticket during famine at Edessa, 85 Sebaste, Peter, bishop of. See Peter Seelteil, "soul-portion," in Bruck, 14 Sen, Amartya, 66 Seneca, on clemency, 36 Septuagint, ptochos and penes in, 5 sermon as gift, 177 silence, rhetorical function Gregory of Nazianzus and his father, 169-77 silence of Moses, 171 " silent male dance," 175 n.20 Sisinius, 31, 63 slavery of Egypt in the Joseph famine narrative, 128, 130 in the mines, 55 sale of infants and children into, 50, 56, 69, 103, 124

230

Index

soldiers, roles in time of economic crisis, 84-85, 125 Sophronius, of Constantinople, 146 Sophronius of Jerusalem, 161 Soteles of Pegae, 33 Soul-portion. See Seelteil Soup kitchen, at Aphrodisias, 43, 45-47 Sozomen, 75 Spyridon, bishop of Trimythun in Cyprus, 60 starvation Basil's description of, 77 physical characteristics, 77, 88-91 social effects, 91-97 studies on Ancel Keys, voluntary starvation of prisoners, 88 Belsen survivors, 93 Holland "Dutch Hunger Winter," 88-90

Warsaw ghetto, 90-91 World War II Leningrad, 88, 92, 93 Stephanus of Athens, 158 stockpiling grain. See hoarding Stoic views on beneficence, pity and charity, 8, 9, 36 strangers, Greek ideal of philanthropy to,

57, 74 Synesius, of Cyrene, 177-79 Synod. See council Syriac commentary on Hippocrates, 157 Taibbi, Guiseppe Rossi. See De siccitate Tannenbaum, Robert, 45 taxation, of Nazianzus, 170 Teja, Ramon, 16 tesserae. See food tickets theatrical images of poor, 96. See also Aristophanes Themistius, treatises on imperial philanthropy, 57 Theodosius, Emperor, 182 theology of incarnation, related to poverty dialogue, 21, 27-30, 142, 149-53, 161-67, 180-82 Theophilus of Alexandria, 61 Theos Hypsistos, cult of, 42 Theosebia, cru^uye of Gregory, 138. See also marriage

theosis, 101, 151, 164, 167, 181 therapeutic language of embodiedness, 28-29. See also theology of incarnation Theseus, feasts, 35 tithe, biblical, and gift exchange, 24 Tobit, almsgiving in, 43 tokos. See usury Trinity, doctrine of, 27 tropheus, 38, 39, 59, 73, 82, 95, 129, 132 usury, 114-126, 173 Ambrose, de Tobia, 123, 124-25 Aristotle on, 115-16 Basil against, 120-26 canons against, 119 n.71, 120 n.75 Gregory of Nyssa's sermon against, 123-24 John Chrysostom, 123, 125 Martial, 116 Plato on, 115 Pliny on, 116 and redemptive alms, 119 Satan as a usurer, 124 Seneca on, 116 Tacitus, 116 tokos, 83, 121 Valens, and Basil's ptochotropheion, 75 Valentinian, and Egyptian famine, 58 Van Dam, Raymond, 75 Van Berchem, Denis, 9 verbal expression. See word, rhetoric Veyne, Paul, 11, 22 viper, use in treating leprosy, 157 voluntary vs involuntary poverty, 3, 4 Walford, Cornelius, 67 wine, as part of annona, 40 woman as personification of famine, 57 otPenia, 34 women Basil on obedience and abuse, 104 carrying swords in warfare, 178 Christian women's care of orphans, 100 church widows lending money at interest, 119

Index clothing relief for poor in Alexandria, 61 poor, 31, 63, 103 n.13 rarely catching leprosy, 158 relieving poverty, 61, 100, n.4, 142 (see also Macrina) rich women, as misers, 61 starving, rescued by Macrina, 76 and usury (see also Babatha archive) word, logos, 27

power of rhetoric as sound, 22, 27 words, as gifts, 174 (see also letter; rhetoric; gift exchange) xenodocheion as ptochotropheion, 74 at Antioch in 332, 74 at Constantinople, 74 at Edessa, 86

231