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Chapter 1 draws on Julian’s earliest surviving oration – the Letter to Themistius – to illustrate the interaction between Julian’s early rhetoric and the political discourse developed at the court of Constantius II. The first section challenges scholarly readings of the Letter as voicing a rejection of the late antique ideal of the sovereign as ensouled law. It argues that Julian’s primary intent in this text lies rather in a desire to advertise his exegetical skills at the expense of his interlocutor, the famous philosopher Themistius. The second sectio contextualises Julian’s ambition in the context of third- and fourth-century debates on the relationship between leadership and culture. It shows that this theme was invested with particular significance by Christian authors – such as Lactantius and Eusebius – who used it in claiming Christianity’s intellectual dominance over pagan thinking. This testifies to the existence of a shared perception that cultural authority legitimised political authority but also signals the ambitions of Christian intellectuals to negotiate Christianity’s cultural prestige in conversation with the Roman elites.
Edited by
Ben Kiernan, Yale University, Connecticut,T. M. Lemos, Huron University College, University of Western Ontario,Tristan S. Taylor, University of New England, Australia
General editor
Ben Kiernan, Yale University, Connecticut
Beginning in 302 CE, the four emperors of the Roman tetrarchy collectively issued a series of edicts that decreed severe penalties against the Empire’s Manichaean and Christian subjects. These decrees constituted the most widespread and systematic religious persecutions in imperial history. In this chapter, I explore these edicts and their consequences in the context of a global history of genocide. I argue that, while these persecutions may not satisfy modern juristic definitions of genocide, which tend to emphasize physical violence, they nonetheless suggest that the emperors aimed to eliminate alternative systems of knowledge, to remove particular religio-cultural populations from the civic collective, and to prevent these groups’ social reproduction. I suggest the tetrarchy’s edicts comprise something akin to a “cultural genocide” by the Roman government. I conclude with some brief reflections on the use of cultural genocide as an interpretive tool for understanding ancient acts of community violence.
Since the Ogdoad, the Ennead, and the Source are described as beyond verbal description, how can written language convey anything at all about this ultimate experience of gnōsis? Discussion of oral transmission by means of logos, dissemination of written treatises, and the paradoxes of hermeneutics as understood in terms of Deconstruction (Derrida) and Hermeneutics (Gadamer).
At the heart of Christianity lies an imperative to change. Following Jesus, becoming part of the movement, is about transformation: changing oneself, changing communities, indeed, changing the world. But then, we are all also subject to the imperative to survive: to accept, to adopt and adapt, to conform and to continue, to compromise, and to let be. Nothing reveals this paradoxical nature of the early church more clearly than the history of early Christianity and slavery.
Jennifer Glancy points out that scholars of early Christianity tend to have two distinct perspectives on slavery, the church, and society. While not contradictory, the two views, in essence, depict different trajectories of which one can be characterised as of descent and the other of ascent. According to one view, the Christian movement in the earliest years was a golden age for relations between women and men, slaves and slaveholders.
This note identifies the source of a brief quotation in Cassiodorus, Institutiones 1.28.3 as a passage of Lactantius, Diuinae Institutiones 3.28.22. It argues that Cassiodorus possibly intended to draw an implicit comparison between himself and Lactantius.
This chapter looks at the manner in which Calcidius presents allusions to Christian views (in comparison with known Christian authors of the era), his use of the "Hebrews," and his minimal reliance on Origen.
In Pilate and Jesus, Giorgio Agamben argues that Pontius Pilate never formally condemned Jesus of Nazareth. “The traditional interpretation of Jesus’ trial … must be revised,” he urges, because “there has not been any judgment in a technical sense.” In Agamben's telling, Pilate's non-judgment is the original truth of Jesus's death that has been covered over by tradition. This is an intriguing hypothesis, but Agamben's use of sources in arguing it is highly irregular. This article offers a critique of the legal and philological argumentation of Pilate and Jesus. In the process, it revisits an ancient—and still actual—controversy surrounding the Roman trial of Jesus and demonstrates that Pilate did sentence Jesus, pro tribunali, to death on a cross.
Rhetoric was the core of ancient education. Lactantius and Arnobius were both professors of rhetoric; indeed, though neither mentions the other in his surviving works, Arnobius taught Lactantius. Arnobius compares the gods who regulated the practicalities of life in a Roman city to an elevated conception of divinity which owes as much to classical philosophy as it does to Christianity. Romans distinguished between religio, what was done to sustain the relationship between Gods and men, and sapientia, the knowledge of matters human and divine. Lactantius opined that pagan religio lacked any connection with ethics; it subordinated the spiritual to the physical and was concerned merely with matters of ritual. Lactantius lays out the united religio and sapientia of Christianity in seven books: the first three demonstrate the falseness of pagan cult and philosophy, the latter four true wisdom and the religion of the One God, its duties and rewards.
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